It's another lovely week of running! The weather has been pretty perfect--a little windy, yes. Not too hot yet, which is a bit of a bummer during the rest of my life. Can I tell you how freaking cold it was at soccer tonight? For two hours? Holy cats, I was frozen.
But I digress. Yesterday, Tuesday, was a very pleasant six miles in the early morning. It's a bit disconcerting that it's so light out at 5:30AM. By the time I get home I'm in a near panic thinking it must be close to the time Christopher has to leave. I am not, however, complaining that it's lighter out in the morning. Just kinda wish the birds who have made a nest in our neighbors' eaves would SHUT THE CHIRPING UP FOR FIVE MINUTES AT 4AM!
Again, digress. The six was fantastic. Last mile was the fastest, which felt good. It's hard for me to run fast in the early morning; it always feels harder than it should, or harder than it feels later in the day. I don't know.
The six I did today was not so easy. I actually had to stop twice to regroup. The wind was assaulting me in three different directions and I think I just couldn't slow down. That happens, sometimes, where my brain tells the legs and lugs to slow down but they just . . . won't. Anyway, after the last, um, regrouping, the last 1.5 miles felt much better. Maybe I just need to meditate, or think less, or, whatever.
And, um, I wasn't going to do any races until the Fall, but I might have just agreed to do a half at the end of June. I am 100% positive it will just be for fun, so there's no pressure to go as fast as I possibly could. And I'd be doing it with my friend Elizabeth, who is a fantastic runner. We'll see.
Oh, there's another half in October I'm looking at, too. I think I need an intervention.
Run happy!
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Monday, May 26, 2014
Marathon Relay
One race, one LONG race, broken up into four legs. OK, so it was just a marathon broken into three 10Ks and one 12K--not exactly a coast-to-coast multi-day event. This was our second year running the relay; my husband started us off, then his best friend at leg two, his work partner at leg three, and me at the anchor.
And oh, what an anchor I was. I guess the marathon is still in my legs because I actually needed to WALK about 4.5 miles into my 7.4-mile gig. Oy. I definitely started too fast and couldn't sustain the pace. After my little walk break, or regrouping as I like to call it, I felt a million times better. My pace slowed from roughly 6:45 per mile to about a 7:10 per mile and it made a world of difference. I did, however, also yank out my headphones. It's strange: I love to run with music mostly all the time, but in the marathon and also this past Sunday, the music was making me NUTS!
Moving on. I got passed by a few runners who I'd passed just a few miles back, and when I started running again I fell in with a few of them. The first guy, at about mile 24 on Richmond looked strong so I started to chat him up. He was trying to break 3:10--we were on pace for about a 3:08. He was trying to qualify for Boston; I told him he was going to do it, ran a little bit with him and then took off. Later, on Delaware, we passed the water stop at mile 25 where a volunteer was shouting "ONE MORE MILE!" I turned to a runner next to me in a Canadian-flag singlet and said, "Well, actually one point two, but who's counting?" We chatted a bit and I told him, truthfully, that he was very smooth and relaxed for being at the pace we were running at mile 25. He was pacing the guy behind me, another guy from Canada. They'd done another marathon a few weeks ago--the same day I did Pittsburgh--and were trying to improve their time. They'd already qualified for Boston, too.
So, I ended up finishing my leg in 3:07 and change. We were hoping to break 3 hours but none of us were quite up to it this year, especially not me. But I passed another relaying woman in the last quarter mile and our team still came in third. And when I finished (and didn't throw up, thank goodness) I turned around and found the first guy I ran with. He did it! I gave him a high five and apologized for being so annoying. He said no way, I said, "See you in Boston!"
And right before we went home, after I found my husband and kids, I saw the Canadians and gave out some more high fives. I love the relay, and I love the marathon. It was a great day.
Run happy.
And oh, what an anchor I was. I guess the marathon is still in my legs because I actually needed to WALK about 4.5 miles into my 7.4-mile gig. Oy. I definitely started too fast and couldn't sustain the pace. After my little walk break, or regrouping as I like to call it, I felt a million times better. My pace slowed from roughly 6:45 per mile to about a 7:10 per mile and it made a world of difference. I did, however, also yank out my headphones. It's strange: I love to run with music mostly all the time, but in the marathon and also this past Sunday, the music was making me NUTS!
Moving on. I got passed by a few runners who I'd passed just a few miles back, and when I started running again I fell in with a few of them. The first guy, at about mile 24 on Richmond looked strong so I started to chat him up. He was trying to break 3:10--we were on pace for about a 3:08. He was trying to qualify for Boston; I told him he was going to do it, ran a little bit with him and then took off. Later, on Delaware, we passed the water stop at mile 25 where a volunteer was shouting "ONE MORE MILE!" I turned to a runner next to me in a Canadian-flag singlet and said, "Well, actually one point two, but who's counting?" We chatted a bit and I told him, truthfully, that he was very smooth and relaxed for being at the pace we were running at mile 25. He was pacing the guy behind me, another guy from Canada. They'd done another marathon a few weeks ago--the same day I did Pittsburgh--and were trying to improve their time. They'd already qualified for Boston, too.
So, I ended up finishing my leg in 3:07 and change. We were hoping to break 3 hours but none of us were quite up to it this year, especially not me. But I passed another relaying woman in the last quarter mile and our team still came in third. And when I finished (and didn't throw up, thank goodness) I turned around and found the first guy I ran with. He did it! I gave him a high five and apologized for being so annoying. He said no way, I said, "See you in Boston!"
And right before we went home, after I found my husband and kids, I saw the Canadians and gave out some more high fives. I love the relay, and I love the marathon. It was a great day.
Run happy.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Quiet Calm Mornings
Thursdays are my favorite. Marathon training gave me tempo runs on Thursday mornings, starting at 6 miles a pop, all the way up to 10 miles. When I first looked at the training (Hansons Marathon Method) I was just a little super daunted by the thought of a ten mile run during the week. The way our day works, I needed to be finished before most people were hitting the snooze button. How, on earth, would I EVER get enough sleep?
The weeks went by and the miles went up and suddenly, Thursday mornings? I was running 8, 9, 10 miles and was finished by 6:45AM. It was both a bit grueling and exhilarating. I love getting out of my house, in the quiet morning, running on the streets by myself. Well, mostly by myself. Here and there I'd pass another intrepid soul or pair of souls getting it done.
Thursday was also the sixth day in a row every week of running--another part of the program that seriously freaked me out. SIX DAYS IN A ROW?! I'd never done that before. The first Thursday found me a little tired, but not completely defeated. And every week after that Thursdays got a little easier and stronger. And again, suddenly, I was running six days in a row, loving it and feeling great. I would be lying if I said I didn't also equally love my full day off on Fridays. But that's not the point.
I'm back to my pre-marathon running schedule, in which my longest streak is three days in a row, Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday. Last Thursday morning my legs were heavy and tired. Today was better, but still a little tired. It was cool and getting bright, a little humid. I had it in my head I was going to run eight, but at about two I realized that wasn't going to happen. I pulled out seven, and that was that. It was so lovely to be out in the morning, listening to music, enjoying the sun rising earlier and dodging cars in the street.
Run happy.
The weeks went by and the miles went up and suddenly, Thursday mornings? I was running 8, 9, 10 miles and was finished by 6:45AM. It was both a bit grueling and exhilarating. I love getting out of my house, in the quiet morning, running on the streets by myself. Well, mostly by myself. Here and there I'd pass another intrepid soul or pair of souls getting it done.
Thursday was also the sixth day in a row every week of running--another part of the program that seriously freaked me out. SIX DAYS IN A ROW?! I'd never done that before. The first Thursday found me a little tired, but not completely defeated. And every week after that Thursdays got a little easier and stronger. And again, suddenly, I was running six days in a row, loving it and feeling great. I would be lying if I said I didn't also equally love my full day off on Fridays. But that's not the point.
I'm back to my pre-marathon running schedule, in which my longest streak is three days in a row, Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday. Last Thursday morning my legs were heavy and tired. Today was better, but still a little tired. It was cool and getting bright, a little humid. I had it in my head I was going to run eight, but at about two I realized that wasn't going to happen. I pulled out seven, and that was that. It was so lovely to be out in the morning, listening to music, enjoying the sun rising earlier and dodging cars in the street.
Run happy.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Crap Weather Wednesday
If it's Wednesday, you can pretty much guarantee the weather sucks.
My running schedule puts me at my parents' house on Wednesdays; they babysit my nephew every Wednesday and I bring my youngest son over to play. And, well, so I can run. But since the first of this year every SINGLE Wednesday has been just horrible, ridiculously awful weather.
Back throughout the winter there were a few (a FEW!) blizzards (PLURAL!) and, without fail, the worst of the weather would be on a Wednesday. One absurd Wednesday I ran at my inlaws; the snow was blowing both sideways and up from the ground, somehow. I ran straight into nearly gale-force winds, was blinded and continuously stung in the face by ice pellets, and basically wanted to find a sinkhole to swallow me on the spot. This spring has seen some impressive rainstorms, sometimes dropping an inch of rain. What day would you guess is ALWAYS raining? You are correct.
And if, by chance, the weather wasn't horrendous on a Wednesday, then one or both of my kids were sick.
I have learned quite a bit from running through all these shitty days this year. I'm not going to melt in the rain, I'm not going to blow away or get buried in the snow. There's always a reason NOT to run, and the perfect weather days are scarce. The only way the run's going to get done is to just get out there and do it. And while I feel like I should burn all my fleece-lined winter running gear after these past six months, I got out there, and I did it--and I continue to do it.
Today was no different from any other Wednesday. Mo had the day off so we planned to meet for coffee at 10. That meant I'd need to get Oliver and myself to my parents', run, shower, chit-chat and get back across town in about 90 minutes. I had everything perfectly timed and got to my parents' house . . . just as it started to pour. I had five and a half planned for this morning, and as I waited for the rain to abate, my perfectly-timed schedule started to erode. Fuck. I got out there, fired up the GPS and just went.
I only had time for five, and the rain let up just enough that I didn't get completely drenched. I let it rip for the last mile and felt GOOOOOOOD. Sometimes running fast just hits the spot. So I got it done today, didn't melt, and still made it in time for coffee.
Run happy.
My running schedule puts me at my parents' house on Wednesdays; they babysit my nephew every Wednesday and I bring my youngest son over to play. And, well, so I can run. But since the first of this year every SINGLE Wednesday has been just horrible, ridiculously awful weather.
Back throughout the winter there were a few (a FEW!) blizzards (PLURAL!) and, without fail, the worst of the weather would be on a Wednesday. One absurd Wednesday I ran at my inlaws; the snow was blowing both sideways and up from the ground, somehow. I ran straight into nearly gale-force winds, was blinded and continuously stung in the face by ice pellets, and basically wanted to find a sinkhole to swallow me on the spot. This spring has seen some impressive rainstorms, sometimes dropping an inch of rain. What day would you guess is ALWAYS raining? You are correct.
And if, by chance, the weather wasn't horrendous on a Wednesday, then one or both of my kids were sick.
I have learned quite a bit from running through all these shitty days this year. I'm not going to melt in the rain, I'm not going to blow away or get buried in the snow. There's always a reason NOT to run, and the perfect weather days are scarce. The only way the run's going to get done is to just get out there and do it. And while I feel like I should burn all my fleece-lined winter running gear after these past six months, I got out there, and I did it--and I continue to do it.
Today was no different from any other Wednesday. Mo had the day off so we planned to meet for coffee at 10. That meant I'd need to get Oliver and myself to my parents', run, shower, chit-chat and get back across town in about 90 minutes. I had everything perfectly timed and got to my parents' house . . . just as it started to pour. I had five and a half planned for this morning, and as I waited for the rain to abate, my perfectly-timed schedule started to erode. Fuck. I got out there, fired up the GPS and just went.
I only had time for five, and the rain let up just enough that I didn't get completely drenched. I let it rip for the last mile and felt GOOOOOOOD. Sometimes running fast just hits the spot. So I got it done today, didn't melt, and still made it in time for coffee.
Run happy.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Rumble in the Tumble
Can we be frank here for a minute? I mean, sure we can--this is a blog no one reads! This morning I had a run that was cut short due to . . . well, who needs to be polite? MAJOR IMPENDING POOP DOOM.
Holy cats, I was looking so forward to this morning's run. The weather was perfect: fifty degrees, calm, clear. I didn't even wear a jacket. I was planning on a nice, easy seven miles. In fact, it was one of those runs when you feel like you can run forever.
IF YOU DIDN'T FEEL LIKE POOPING YOUR PANTS THE ENTIRE WAY.
Somewhere between my front door and the end of my street I got the little nagging feeling that maaaaaybe I should turn back, get my business done at home, and head back out. But by the time I woke up this morning (mentally--not when I physically got out of bed), got everything I needed to do done and got out the door, I didn't think I'd have enough time to run as far as I wanted to in the time that was left.
Well. Bad choice.
Legs felt great, head was great, and MAN did I need to poop every step of the way.
Let's me be clear about this: I am not someone who can just go into a public restroom and cavalierly drop a deuce. The first time in my entire life that I pooped in a communal bathroom was in college; in fact, I recall being most nervous about that aspect of dorm life more than anything else (as it turns out I SHOULD have been more nervous about my freshman roommate sitch, but that's another story). Anyway, it takes a LOT for me to use a bathroom other than my own to pinch a loaf---and this morning, I would have traded my kingdom for just about any bathroom.
Today I happened to run a route that included exactly zero viable bathroom options, other than possibly squatting on someone's front lawn like a dog. Ooh, I was suffering. I made it to 5.99 miles before I had to pause, compose myself, take a little waddle/walk around in place and give a very stern talking to my muscles. I ran for another half mile before the turtle nearly won.
Shamefully I walked the last half mile home, waddling, sweating and breathing deep the entire way. Ugh, I even passed the constantly-locked bathroom in the cemetery across the street from out house. Side note: why the FUCK do they keep that bathroom locked?! It's just RIGHT THERE by the front gate, taunting anyone who is foolish enough to think she can just leisurely saunter in and do her business.
I made it home right in the nick of time. Mostly.
Oh my god, I'm an animal. I'll get that last half mile tomorrow.
Run happy.
Holy cats, I was looking so forward to this morning's run. The weather was perfect: fifty degrees, calm, clear. I didn't even wear a jacket. I was planning on a nice, easy seven miles. In fact, it was one of those runs when you feel like you can run forever.
IF YOU DIDN'T FEEL LIKE POOPING YOUR PANTS THE ENTIRE WAY.
Somewhere between my front door and the end of my street I got the little nagging feeling that maaaaaybe I should turn back, get my business done at home, and head back out. But by the time I woke up this morning (mentally--not when I physically got out of bed), got everything I needed to do done and got out the door, I didn't think I'd have enough time to run as far as I wanted to in the time that was left.
Well. Bad choice.
Legs felt great, head was great, and MAN did I need to poop every step of the way.
Let's me be clear about this: I am not someone who can just go into a public restroom and cavalierly drop a deuce. The first time in my entire life that I pooped in a communal bathroom was in college; in fact, I recall being most nervous about that aspect of dorm life more than anything else (as it turns out I SHOULD have been more nervous about my freshman roommate sitch, but that's another story). Anyway, it takes a LOT for me to use a bathroom other than my own to pinch a loaf---and this morning, I would have traded my kingdom for just about any bathroom.
Today I happened to run a route that included exactly zero viable bathroom options, other than possibly squatting on someone's front lawn like a dog. Ooh, I was suffering. I made it to 5.99 miles before I had to pause, compose myself, take a little waddle/walk around in place and give a very stern talking to my muscles. I ran for another half mile before the turtle nearly won.
Shamefully I walked the last half mile home, waddling, sweating and breathing deep the entire way. Ugh, I even passed the constantly-locked bathroom in the cemetery across the street from out house. Side note: why the FUCK do they keep that bathroom locked?! It's just RIGHT THERE by the front gate, taunting anyone who is foolish enough to think she can just leisurely saunter in and do her business.
I made it home right in the nick of time. Mostly.
Oh my god, I'm an animal. I'll get that last half mile tomorrow.
Run happy.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Sunday Funday
Two weeks ago I ran the Pittsburgh Marathon. The weather was in the low fifties, overcast, not really windy and just a little drizzly. Almost humid. It was a really fun race; not a course I'd call FAST, as I found it to be pretty hilly in the second half. But very well spectated and stocked, lots of porta-potties (ahem, thank GOD for that one between miles 16 and 17), plenty of water and music and gorgeous views of the cities and its neighborhoods.
I'm just now accepting my finishing time, as it was about 10 minutes off my top-tier goal. I used the Hanson's Marathon Method and my splits were relatively even throughout the race. I never felt like the distance was insurmountable, and I truly enjoyed both the training and the race. Throughout the eighteen weeks my training led me to believe I'd run in the neighborhood of three hours and twenty minutes, and I ended up finishing at 3:28 and change.
Yes, it's my PR; yes, I qualified for Boston. But there's still that little nagging feeling that I didn't do my best. I mean, I DID have to stop to, um, relieve myself, and I fought mightily with that fresh, not-started roll of toilet paper. And I DID choose to enjoy the water stop at mile 24, walking through it and drinking the entire cup of water instead of splashing myself in the face. And then I walked just the tiniest bit farther than the stop.
So there's a few minutes. But I knew at the half 3:20 was not happening for me that day. Maybe I psyched myself out, having that number in my head for the past few months. I was a nervous wreck before the race--I was practically in tears waiting in the corral. From the very beginning I kept reining myself in, trying to keep the bulk of the race effortless--and it largely was.
Who can say? It just didn't happen that day. And what I DID accomplish makes me proud, still. I met most of the goals on my multi-tiered list. I still love running; in fact, I think I love it even more. The training was pretty grueling, especially throughout this beast of a winter. But I loved those longer, mid-week runs and the hard work every day, running six days in a row each week. The training this time around changed me.
One my favorite parts of the training was getting not one but TWO longer weekend runs, back to back. Saturday I'd run the longer of the two, the *real* long run. But then on Sunday, I'd do it again, sometimes the same distance (10), sometimes a bit shorter (8).
I had a nice 6 miler this morning, and it feels good to get back into the routine. Just because it didn't happen two weeks ago doesn't mean it never will. I'm coming for you, 3:20.
Run happy.
I'm just now accepting my finishing time, as it was about 10 minutes off my top-tier goal. I used the Hanson's Marathon Method and my splits were relatively even throughout the race. I never felt like the distance was insurmountable, and I truly enjoyed both the training and the race. Throughout the eighteen weeks my training led me to believe I'd run in the neighborhood of three hours and twenty minutes, and I ended up finishing at 3:28 and change.
Yes, it's my PR; yes, I qualified for Boston. But there's still that little nagging feeling that I didn't do my best. I mean, I DID have to stop to, um, relieve myself, and I fought mightily with that fresh, not-started roll of toilet paper. And I DID choose to enjoy the water stop at mile 24, walking through it and drinking the entire cup of water instead of splashing myself in the face. And then I walked just the tiniest bit farther than the stop.
So there's a few minutes. But I knew at the half 3:20 was not happening for me that day. Maybe I psyched myself out, having that number in my head for the past few months. I was a nervous wreck before the race--I was practically in tears waiting in the corral. From the very beginning I kept reining myself in, trying to keep the bulk of the race effortless--and it largely was.
Who can say? It just didn't happen that day. And what I DID accomplish makes me proud, still. I met most of the goals on my multi-tiered list. I still love running; in fact, I think I love it even more. The training was pretty grueling, especially throughout this beast of a winter. But I loved those longer, mid-week runs and the hard work every day, running six days in a row each week. The training this time around changed me.
One my favorite parts of the training was getting not one but TWO longer weekend runs, back to back. Saturday I'd run the longer of the two, the *real* long run. But then on Sunday, I'd do it again, sometimes the same distance (10), sometimes a bit shorter (8).
I had a nice 6 miler this morning, and it feels good to get back into the routine. Just because it didn't happen two weeks ago doesn't mean it never will. I'm coming for you, 3:20.
Run happy.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Long Saturday
I love my Saturday runs. Anywhere from an hour to two to maybe more of just me, my best friend, the pavement and the sky.
Often there is snow, wind or rain to accompany us, too. Not today, though!
Meet Mo:
She's the one in the glasses. We've been friends since high school but best friends since well after college. This is not the most flattering picture of either of us. Here, try this one:
Well, who looks their picture-perfect best right after a sweaty summer run or a freezing 8K anyway, amirite?!
Anyway. We've been doing our Saturday long runs together for several years. It's really great way to stay connected, catch up every week, work out whatever emotional or stressful shit we have built up from the past six days. We did a nice eight this morning; the sky was blue and the wind was calm. We did have to bust out our running jackets since it was about 40 degrees. After being in the low 60s in the mornings all week.
WELCOME TO SPRINGTIME IN BUFFALO!
It was lovely. We ran through a, um, blighted part of town. That part wasn't so lovely, but we did manage to find many hills in our otherwise relatively flat city. Go us.
We are going to dinner tonight with our husbands, both of whom are runners as well. Running, to me, is kind of like "Fight Club," in that the first rule of running is you DON'T TALK ABOUT RUNNING.
I'm sure we'll break that rule a few times tonight.
Run happy.
Often there is snow, wind or rain to accompany us, too. Not today, though!
Meet Mo:
 |
| Sweating along the shore of Lake Michigan. We ran together on a girls' weekend a few years ago. Our friends thought we were nuts and Wait--we need another girls' weekend. |
 |
| Post Turkey Trot 2013. |
Anyway. We've been doing our Saturday long runs together for several years. It's really great way to stay connected, catch up every week, work out whatever emotional or stressful shit we have built up from the past six days. We did a nice eight this morning; the sky was blue and the wind was calm. We did have to bust out our running jackets since it was about 40 degrees. After being in the low 60s in the mornings all week.
WELCOME TO SPRINGTIME IN BUFFALO!
It was lovely. We ran through a, um, blighted part of town. That part wasn't so lovely, but we did manage to find many hills in our otherwise relatively flat city. Go us.
We are going to dinner tonight with our husbands, both of whom are runners as well. Running, to me, is kind of like "Fight Club," in that the first rule of running is you DON'T TALK ABOUT RUNNING.
I'm sure we'll break that rule a few times tonight.
Run happy.
Friday, May 16, 2014
Looking Back/Looking Ahead
I am a runner. I wasn't always. I want to always be one.
In high school I started running on the cross-country team, but wasn't ever really great. One of my favorite memories was a family friend teaching me how to run the summer before my freshman year. He is still an incredible runner, but at the time he was coming off a win at the Tokyo Marathon and a good showing at the Olympic Trials. I, in my 13-year-old innocence, had no idea what all that really meant; all I knew that summer was that our runs together were both exhausting and challenging, and I wanted to get better. He gave me a great gift that summer--I try to give what I can to new runners in kind.
My freshman season was cut short by a broken ankle, but the following summer I went to a cross-country camp in the Pocono Mountains. Here, we ran twice a day; up mountain roads and through forest trails in the morning, speed work and intervals in the afternoon.
By Thursday I needed to fake an injury. That shit was hard.
After that, I wasn't a runner for many years. I don't think I even ran all the way through high school. When I went to college, I spent a looooong time enjoying the Bacchanalian life of drinking, partying, carousing, eating . . . and not running. Or, really, exercising at all. Oh, occasionally I'd make a half-assed attempt to "get in shape." I'd go flop around on the elliptical at the Physical Activity Center or take a step aerobics class taught by some exercise-science major. Maaaaybe if I was feeling desperate I'd throw on my old running sneakers and whatever old clothes I could find and run a few blocks. I'd try to convince myself I'd just run about five miles, probably. My fitness kick would last, usually, a week.
Ugh, I was a bit of a disaster.
Eventually, when I left the debauched college life behind, I finally got into getting fit. I certainly didn't get into eating well, mind you, but I'd go to the gym regularly. I even taught fitness and cycling classes for many years. When I started teaching Kindergarten, I signed up to be on my school's team for the Corporate Challenge. I coulddefinitely probably run three-and-a-half miles without stopping. Maybe.
But oh, did I. Somehow I was the second fastest female on the team. And then I was hooked and never looked back.
So here it is. I'm going to try to be honest with myself about my goals and progress. I just recently ran the Pittsburgh Marathon, getting my PR and qualifying for Boston in the process. I don't love running in races but there are a few that I do enjoy. I'm counting the minutes until I can register for Boston, and am hoping to just chill for the rest of the year until training starts. Running has, somehow, changed from something I did to stay fit to something I NEED to stay sane. I am head-over-heels in love with it, and am trying to just run happy all the time.
In high school I started running on the cross-country team, but wasn't ever really great. One of my favorite memories was a family friend teaching me how to run the summer before my freshman year. He is still an incredible runner, but at the time he was coming off a win at the Tokyo Marathon and a good showing at the Olympic Trials. I, in my 13-year-old innocence, had no idea what all that really meant; all I knew that summer was that our runs together were both exhausting and challenging, and I wanted to get better. He gave me a great gift that summer--I try to give what I can to new runners in kind.
My freshman season was cut short by a broken ankle, but the following summer I went to a cross-country camp in the Pocono Mountains. Here, we ran twice a day; up mountain roads and through forest trails in the morning, speed work and intervals in the afternoon.
By Thursday I needed to fake an injury. That shit was hard.
After that, I wasn't a runner for many years. I don't think I even ran all the way through high school. When I went to college, I spent a looooong time enjoying the Bacchanalian life of drinking, partying, carousing, eating . . . and not running. Or, really, exercising at all. Oh, occasionally I'd make a half-assed attempt to "get in shape." I'd go flop around on the elliptical at the Physical Activity Center or take a step aerobics class taught by some exercise-science major. Maaaaybe if I was feeling desperate I'd throw on my old running sneakers and whatever old clothes I could find and run a few blocks. I'd try to convince myself I'd just run about five miles, probably. My fitness kick would last, usually, a week.
Ugh, I was a bit of a disaster.
Eventually, when I left the debauched college life behind, I finally got into getting fit. I certainly didn't get into eating well, mind you, but I'd go to the gym regularly. I even taught fitness and cycling classes for many years. When I started teaching Kindergarten, I signed up to be on my school's team for the Corporate Challenge. I could
But oh, did I. Somehow I was the second fastest female on the team. And then I was hooked and never looked back.
So here it is. I'm going to try to be honest with myself about my goals and progress. I just recently ran the Pittsburgh Marathon, getting my PR and qualifying for Boston in the process. I don't love running in races but there are a few that I do enjoy. I'm counting the minutes until I can register for Boston, and am hoping to just chill for the rest of the year until training starts. Running has, somehow, changed from something I did to stay fit to something I NEED to stay sane. I am head-over-heels in love with it, and am trying to just run happy all the time.
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