Three Year Runniversary

In about a month it will be three years since I first laced up my Asics and stood in a parking lot with several hundred other women wondering what in blue blazes I was getting myself into taking part in our local running club’s Women’s Running Training Program. I was convinced of two things: 1) I was out of my mind; and 2) I was going to die. Clearly I was wrong on one of those two counts.

The Training Program is ramping up again, and for the third year I’m volunteering as a Coach with the Beginning Runners group. Earlier today a young friend I’ve known for a long, long time tagged me in a post on Facebook showing her registration confirmation for the program. And truth be told, I got puddled up. I am so proud of her for stepping out of her fear and putting herself ‘out there’ doing this in a group and in public.
She’s pretty convinced she’s out of her mind.
And she’s afraid she’s going to pass out, fail, or worst of all quit.
I’ve promised her she won’t pass out or fail and she’s given me permission to nag her so she doesn’t quit. Thus proving that she’s out of her mind. Never give me permission to nag! I’m good at it. I have references.
Me? I’m proud of her! Couldn’t be more full of maternal pride if she were my own child doing this.

Every year I’ve been a volunteer coach it has served a couple of purposes.
First, if my own running has faltered or I’ve begun to ‘fall out of love’ with it knowing this is coming up kicks me back into the groove.
Second, it puts me back into what my RYL (Running/Yoga/Life) Mentor calls “Beginner’s Mind”. I get that little excited/nervous flutter in my stomach. I get excited about running and all things running all over again. I start inventorying the answers to beginner questions in my mind, and in that process I ask them of myself.
How are my shoes?
How’s my running bra?
Am I eating to sufficiently fuel the maching?
Am I adequately hydrating for those hot, steamy, Memphis afternoon runs?
Have I lost my mind?

In encouraging my young friend I linked her to the beginning of this blog so she could see where I was early on in this and while I was there I scanned through some of the posts there and stopped when I came across this statement, made about three weeks shy of my own Graduation 5K: I have never, ever in my life stuck with any sort of exercise plan/program this consistently for this long! And it stopped me in my tracks. Because I am still sticking with it!
Oh there have been occasional lapses, but I’ve never quit or stopped. I’ve always come back to it, always begun again all over again.

And much of the credit for that goes to the very thing that got me started in the first place. A few weeks ago I was deliberating with RYL Mentor whether or not I was going to continue coaching with the Beginners, move to coaching with the Intermediates, or register as a participant for the Advanced training to up my own game. My personal jury was still out on the decision a bit. Until the email went out asking coaches to sign up and I decided to give it one more year and I found myself clicking the link and signing up. And today, when my young Rockstar friend tagged me in that post I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be. My heart is with the Beginning Runners, and there’s a tiny bit of selfishness in that.

The butterflies are marching and I’m excited for both of us.
On Monday, July 7th when we start that first Run With Coaches it will be a beginnig for her and an amazing continuation of a beginnig for me.
Three years.
Who saw that coming?!

The Incredible, Amazing, Self-Repairing Want To

After months of worrying about it, sporadic efforts, and vacillating between “I’m going to fix this!” and “Screw it, I’ll just quit!” and finally deciding to let things Just Be until they started Just Be-ing something else, something clicked and I’m back to loving running.

Seriously.
*poof*
Just like that.
It started with a Memorial Day Race that we do not just because it’s a race put on by our favorite running store, but because it honors those men and women from our area who have made the ultimate sacrifice in service to our country.  I knew the running of the race part was going to be ugly because I hadn’t really been running, and even with an 8am start time it was going to be warm and m-u-g-g-y.  It’s late May in Memphis and “Muggy” is this city’s middle name!  But it wasn’t quite as ugly as I’d expected and – once I could breathe like a normal human being – I didn’t feel all that bad.
Of course having the store staff cheering us on by name, and the Patriot Guard Riders who came out to honor the latest name added to the existing 1,575 names on the memorial wall cheering us on telling us how awesome we were it was hard to feel bad about being out there in any way.

HCRP ended up at the Ortho Doc looking into some knee pain he’s been experiencing recently.  No damage or injury, but it’s possible he’s beginning to develop a bit of arthritis in his knee.  Not a game stopper, just requires some care and adaptation.  Anyway, we blew off running Wednesday.
Correction.
I blew off running Wednesday.  He had a note from his doctor.
Thursday came and I packed my gym bag, took it to work, and spent the day alternately adoring and glaring at it.  Around 3:30 I decided “I’m just not feeling this today, I don’t see it happening.”  Then I thought about some of the races coming up on our calendar – some of our favorites in this area – and decided “No, I’m going to run!”
And so it went for the next 90 minutes.
Back and forth.
“Running!”
“Nope. Not running.”
Forth and back.
HCRP got there and was visibly limping so it was clear that running wasn’t in his best interests, which was the precise moment I decided “I’m running!”

We run together.  Always have since I started the Women’s Running Program three years ago and told him “You’re doing these runs with me during the week!”  Unfortunately because we run together and “always have” when one of us is ill, injured, or ‘just not feeling it’ it is far too easy for the other to “sit this one out” with them.
Awww…
Such devotion!
Such love!
Such a load of crap!
And so I laced up my Asics and hit the Greenline for a couple (and a half, there was ‘and a half’) miles that felt really, really good!  AND felt good at a pace that was a full 30 seconds  per mile faster than my old reliable 12:00 minute per mile standby pace.
By myself!
I’m so accustomed to having HCRP just off my left shoulder that I think part of my brain had come to believe I ‘couldn’t’ run alone. I’m not sure why, and honestly I’m not inclined to give it too much mental space or energy.  The thought/belief was there, and now it’s not.  I actually enjoyed the solitude.

Yesterday morning we (HCRP’s knee is improving!  Yay!) headed out for another run.  He kept it short (2 miles) and I resisted the urge to increase mileage too quickly and only went out for 3.  And again, my pace was quicker than it’s been in the past and everything felt good.
I’m doing some things differently – basing my intervals on distance and not time and increasing the distance of the run intervals – which will bring the goals I had for this year to reality.

But more important than pace or time or distance is that I’m already looking forward to Monday’s run!

My Give A Dang* is fine, it’s my Want To that’s busted

First and foremost, let’s dispense with the titular earworms:
Give A Dang*
Want To
I really only like one of those songs.
And you, in the corner, stop snickering at ‘titular’. It’s a grown-up word. Look it up!

I want to run.
That’s a lie.
I want to want to run.

I pack gym bags.  Several days a week.
I actually manage to run about once a week, which I end up enjoying once I get past the griping thighs and burning lungs. I’m even (somehow) running a full 30 seconds per mile less than my standard pace.
And after every one of those runs I turn to HCRP and say “This is the last time we skip runs!” Which is generally followed closely by “And we have got to cross-train!”
I’ve even resorted to platitudes like “No excuses!” and “Were gonna ‘Just Do It’!”
I have not (yet) resorted to “No pain, no gain”.

We’re volunteering for races with our running club.
Cheering on other runners, admiring finish times I will never aspire to.
Talking running out the wazoo.
Speaking of my wazoo, it has somehow managed not to grow exponentially in direct opposition to the number of miles I’m not logging.  Not sure how that’s not happening.
(If you understood those last couple sentences, you might want to get your head examined.)

My running friends are running.  And then some!
My Tri-ing friends are tri-ing as Tri-Season is upon us.
And I envy them all the joy they get from the miles.

Me?
I’m just not feelin’ it.
I want to feel it.
I’ve even tried that whole ‘fake it til you make it’ thing through not one, but two half-marathons I was woefully under-trained for.
But I’m just not there.
The list of Races We Must Do This Year isn’t enough to get me excited.  Regardless how close (next week!) the first of them may be.  I suddenly find myself completely capable of registering and either skipping it or volunteering to work it with “Hey, they got my money for their cause and I got my shirt” as my lovely parting gift/consolation prize.

One of my BFF/RMs (Running Mentor) has even offered to coach me, she being a Certified Coach and everything.

*sighs*
Tomorrow my BFF/RM and I are getting back into our weekly yoga practice. That had to take a back seat to a greater need that had her completely gone (as in out of town) for six months.
But she’s back now.  And so is Friday Yoga Time.
Maybe that will help.
Keeping up with (or trying to) her fit-tabulousness could motivate a manatee!

WRWM is starting up again in July and HCRP and I are committed to being Volunteer Coaches again. And I have two months to get my tail – along with my legs and lungs – into “Why yes, yes I have in fact done this before” condition.

Thankfully, in addition to the return of BFF/RM, one of my ‘nother Favorite People and Running Gurus put some words on my screen this very day that said more about me than they did her. Even though I’m pretty sure she believes they were All About Her.

I also want to write. Maybe not about running, just in general.
But definitely I definitely want to write about running here.
Only it’s hard to write about something you’re not doing.

At least for me it is.

Maybe if you build the Give A Dang, the Want To will come . . .

*Edited for the sake of my mother, in case she ever reads this.

It’s only a goal if it’s your own

Assuming you know the story of My First MaraNot (if not go back and catch up, I’ll wait) . . .

Okay, now that we all know the story, there’s one line in there that turns out to be not-quite-so-true for me. When I said (repeatedly) and wrote (just the one time) “And, I still have a marathon to run!”, well, it turns out I didn’t really mean it. Okay I meant it in that ‘All the Kool Kids are saying/doing it!’ kinda way. But it turns out it wasn’t really so much a part of My Truth after all.

Those of you who are diehard, driven, The Goal is The Goal kind of folks might want to stop reading right now before you get to the ‘throwing up in your mouth a little’ part. Unless you already have and in that case: I apologize. Here’s a breath mint.

To say that I have been ambivalent about running for the past two months is an understatement of epic proportions. As I was sharing with my Sole Sister/RYL (Running/Yoga/Life) Mentor Tonia there was a day a couple weeks ago when I was sitting at my desk glaring at my gym bag when the thought “I’m just going to quit running” walked purposefully through my mind.
Followed by complete and utter silence.
There was no immediate outcry from The Parts of Me That Lurve Running.
There was nothing.
No argument.
No “But you’ve got Nashville coming up!”
Nada.
Zip.
Infinity x Zero = Crickets.
And that was the moment I realized that there was something seriously wrong.

The problem wasn’t running. I <3 Running! Really, I do!
I wrote more about running than my husband on Valentine’s Day!
If that’s not proof I don’t know what is.
But somewhere between Friday morning when I typed out that cherubic little missive to my sport of choice, and Saturday afternoon when Tonia texted me asking “Can you talk?” (or words to that effect) I realized that The Problem was The Goal.
Not MY Goal.
Rather the goal I picked up and took home that really wasn’t mine.

Here’s the deal. (Yes, I say that in actual conversation. Frequently.)
When St. Jude was cancelled I was upset.
Correction I was hurt.
Corrected correction I was hurt and disappointed.
Correcting the corrected correction: I was hurt and disappointed and angry.
I was robbed!
I’d spent six months of my life training to run that marathon and now It Wasn’t Happening!
Oh sure, I could have gone out on No-Longer-Race-Day and run the course – hundreds of people did and they had a blast!  But we had other things to take care of.
The next week there was very well put together Make Up Marathon I could have taken part of.  And I just couldn’t get into it.
I did neither of those things.
Because I spent six months of my life training to run That Marathon.
Nothing else.
Not the Run It Anyway Marathon, not the Make-Up Marathon, not even one of the three races we were given the opportunity to transfer our registrations to.
That Marathon.
The 2013 Memphis St. Jude Marathon.
And It Didn’t Happen.
Not because I couldn’t do it or because I didn’t feel like it.
The event simply didn’t happen.  (For completely valid reasons.)

In all, 100%, complete, total honesty my first reaction was “Okay, well, it isn’t meant to be.” And I was okay with that.
Until everyone around me started saying (to be encouraging and supportive) “So you’ll Find Another Marathon to do? Right? Right!! Yay Julianne! Ewe can dew eet!”
And because I didn’t want to be A Quitter, and because I didn’t want to let everyone else down, I Found Another Marathon! And I registered and I set up a training plan based on the one we’d used before and even with having to have one of my 2,000 parts forcibly evicted (removed, surgically, it was my gallbladder, not my brain) I had more than enough time to recover and train and Run My Marathon in April!
Only that wasn’t ‘My Marathon’.
It was Everybody Else’s Marathon.
I had been perfectly okay releasing my Marathon Dream to “Eh, it happens!” and move forward to my stated goals for 2014 that centered around reducing my times in shorter races and embracing my Inner Halfer.
But I said I was Running A Marathon!
And Everybody expected me to Run A Marathon.
Many of my running buddies dove headlong into the next closest-on-the-calendar Marathon and did it! Others opted to get into trail running, and some into really long trail running. I admire each and every one of them for what they’ve done.  Especially those really long trail running people.  (They’re crazy, but it’s that admirable kind of crazy.)  Sometimes admiration is the sincerest form of flattery, not imitation.
And when I finally said, out loud, to Tonia “I really don’t think I want to train for and run a marathon, any marathon” I felt like the weight of the expectation of a thousand expectated expectations were lifted from my shoulders.

Because here’s the thing: Nobody – not one person runner or non-runner – ever said to me “Okay Julianne I/we expect you to run another marathon or you will be dead to me/us!”
Nobody threatened to take away my Asics or all the miles I’d put in training or the fact that I love running or even the really cute skirt I’d bought Just For That Race if I didn’t find some other marathon to run.
*I* did that to me.
*I* put that expectation of an expectation on me. And them. But mostly on me. On their behalf. Wasn’t that good of me?

There’s nothing wrong with saying “Okay, that race didn’t happen” and taking that as the answer to “Is it part of my journey?”.
Funny thing is that when I blurted all of that out to Tonia her answer was “If it isn’t your passion – don’t do it!”. And when I shared with my ‘nother running friend Tracie on Sunday she said “If you’re not going to enjoy it – why do it?”
Yet another reason I <3 <3 <3 Runners!
We’re big fans of that whole “It’s your race!” concept in and out of our Asics. Or Brooks. Or whatever fits your footfall.

So I’m running in Nashville (and I’m still raising money as a St. Jude Hero, as is HCRP) but I’ll be running the Half. HCRP hasn’t fully made up his mind yet, and whatever he chooses to do is his race.

Won’t you be my Valentine?

Dear Running,
What to say?
I know I’ve been distant and aloof these past couple months.
Oh, I’ve flirted with you here and there.
Those quickies on the treadmill.
That long weekend in New Orleans that wasn’t everything it could have been. By the way, thanks for doing your part there even though I didn’t do mine getting ready and all.
But really, we both know my heart hasn’t been in it.
And truth be told, I haven’t missed you. Much.

Because I love being part of The Kook Kids Klub, I’ve kept up the facade that we’re still A Thing. But you and I? We know what’s been up between us. Or hasn’t.  Thanks for not blowing my cover.

And really, it hasn’t been you, it’s been all me babe.
I got my feelings hurt when that Big Date we had planned back in December fell through. That wasn’t you or me. It was that witch Winter Weather. But I let disappointment turn into a long-term pout and I took it out on you with that whole silent treatment thing.

Of course having one of my 2,000 parts decide to stop doing that voodoo it (used to) do so well and having to be evicted didn’t help. But I’ve been over that for weeks now.

I do still love you.
I promise.

I’ve got too much invested in this relationship to back out now.
And we’ve got that whole Spring Prom thing planned in Nashville at the end of April! I know you’ll be there and I have no intention of standing you up.
I’ve just needed my space.  Okay maybe not “needed” but I took it anyway.

But this morning I woke up truly and fully missing you.
Everything about you.
The sweat.
The time and distance with nothing but the two of us.
The caring about a time on a clock at a finish line and wanting to make it something different. 
The Zone. That mile or so when it feels like my feet aren’t even touching the ground and I Could Do This Forever.
And yes, even that first sucktastic mile or so when I have to remind the legs and the lungs that yes they’ve done this before.
Yeah, I woke up missing that too.

So I guess what I’m saying is it’s time we got back together.
For real now. No more treadmill flirtations or half-hearted weekend getaways.
It’s time for me to come back to you. You’re right where you’ve always been: under my laces, on the streets. Thanks for that.
See you tomorrow morning!

It’s all about the numbers

Numbers of miles run.

Numbers of calories burned that simply must be replaced.

Numbers of ounces of fluid lost that absolutely must be replaced.

Numbers of ‘other things’ you pass on because “I have to run tonight/early tomorrow.”

Numbers and numbers of numbers.

And the numbers that matter most of all? 12/7 and 26.2.

Oh, and 1.9 million.
That’s the number of dollars it takes every single day just to open the doors and turn on the lights at St. Jude Children’s Hospital.
Only those doors never close, and those lights never go off.

So all those numbers of miles and calories and ounces and “Can’t make it”s really don’t add up to a hill of beans in light of that $1,900,000.
Now do they?

One number that keeps resounding in my head, because it’s pretty huge for me, is Sixteen.
That’s the number of miles we ran last Saturday.
That’s 2.9 miles further than the half marathon that seemed like So Many Miles a little over a year ago.
That’s four miles further than than my Waterloo Distance of Twelve Miles.
And at the end of the Sixteen I felt pretty damn good!
Or at least better than I’d expected to feel.
I think I actually got a little Runner’s High around fourteen miles because suddenly my legs that had been filling with lead at Thirteen felt awesome!
I felt awesome!
The air was airier, the sun was sunnier, I think I actually levitated for a few steps!  Okay maybe I didn’t levitate, but  I can see how people get addicted to running these longer distances.

Tonight’s seven miles started out great.  Legs and lungs were working together from ‘Go!’ and everything was awesome until it wasn’t which was around four miles when my right hamstring started tightening up.  Then my left knee started humming in harmony, and by 6.75 miles both hamstrings were doing all they could to secede from the union of my legs so I walked the last quarter mile and until HCRP could get back to the car and come pick me up a little past seven.

I know what caused it.
Lack of consistent cross-training.
So we’ll be correcting that immediately.
And I’ll be getting in to see Dr. Awesome Sauce, Official Unofficial Chiropractor of Every Runner I Know, to see if he thinks taping my hamstrings will help.  Or if he, like TJ (my Running Friendtor – Friend + Mentor = Friendtor) thinks this is lack of consistent cross-training.
You know, doing what I know I’m supposed to be doing.
Another thing that adds up.
Doing + What You Know To Do = Success
What You Know To Do – Doing = Pain/Possible Injury
That’s math I know how to do.

The scale might lie – but the PJs never do!

As seen on Facebook:
Okay, I have to brag a little here…
A couple months ago I snagged a pair of summer PJs that consisted of a cute little tank top and a pair of cotton – dress shirt cotton, not t-shirt cotton – pants. Grabbed them off the rack based on (my recently acquired) no-longer-XL size and took them home. Went to put them on that evening and was mortified to find they were ENTIRELY too tight! Can’t sit down without splitting a seam tight. I was pissed! I threw them in the back corner of the closet and went back to my faithful, t-shirt cotton PJs that fit comfortably and non-judgmentally. Meanwhile, I’ve been running and running and yoga-ing, and Ye Olde Scale has remained unrelentingly stuck on A Number so I’d given up any hope of New Summer PJ pants fitting.
Tonight in a fit of morbid curiosity I grabbed New Summer PJ pants and put them on, fully expecting a seam to split.
And guess what?!
Guess!
They fit!
As in “I’m sitting in them with all seams in tact” fit.
The number on the scale? Hasn’t budged. Not 1/10th of a pound.
But something has obviously changed because The PJ Pants fit!!
I swear I’d wear them to work tomorrow if I thought nobody would notice!

Which was followed by (my own) disclaimer/comment:
The Moral of this moment of braggedness: The scale might lie, but the PJs never do! Just because weight doesn’t change doesn’t mean changes aren’t taking place in the body.

Just about the time I was going to delete the post because I was worried it would hurt or offend some of my friends who are struggling with weight loss issues, I was tagged in a post by one of the women who is participating as a Beginning Runner in the Women’s Running Program that got me started running two years ago.
I just want to “Thank” Middle-Aged-Woman for her PJ story!! I have been having a pity party these last few weeks b/c I hurt my hip and the doctor told me NO running for 2 weeks!! NO RUNNING are you kidding me?? I am on a running plan and have been so excited about the Womens Run Walk program that this is going to KILL me…Then football practice started and then I went on vacation so needless to say I am a little unhappy at the moment that I know for a FACT that I am behind in the run…So then I read your PJ post and it made me smile…It made me think to keep going no matter what (I too have been mad at the scale for not moving) and I was whining to Brian about next Monday and how I am going to suck and he said NO your going to go and run what you can. No matter if I am behind I am going to keep going….I am so lucky to have encouraging people in my life:)
And, as I commented back to her:
Oh B! You just BLEW AWAY every doubt and ‘second guessing’ I had about sharing that. It felt so ‘selfish’ and ‘braggy’ that I seriously almost deleted it as -soon as I posted it. I have so many friends struggling with weight loss and I really questioned whether or not posting that would come across as a ‘slap in the face’ to them.
I am just in TEARS reading this post and realizing I was so right to listen to that ‘still small voice’ that said “Share this”. Thank YOU for this affirmation that sharing our little victories is done for a reason and serve as an encouragement to others!
You will do great Monday. Run your pace and stick with the program and you will ROCK that Finish Line next month!!
Followed – once I was no longer all puddled-up – by:
Thank you more than I can say.
Also, thank you for redirecting me to the greater point of what happened for me with those PJ Pants. I don’t run to “fit into the PJs”. I run to run, and to remind myself of what I can do today that I couldn’t do last week.

Earlier today another online friend messaged me sharing her intention to get back into running.  She’d been a cross country runner and swimmer in high school and over the (much fewer than mine) years since she’d fallen into a more sedentary lifestyle.  Of everything she said to me in her message, this stood out the most: I joined a local gym tonight, and just wanted to say that reading your posts about the running events and training you do has been a huge inspiration for me with getting back into it and hoping that one day, I too can complete run events…  but I know I can do it, because the running/fitness journeys of you and many others show me that it IS possible, no matter how unfit I am right now. So thank you for sharing about your running and fitness, because I know I really appreciate it and find that it has spurred me on with this. 

A few minutes later I received a text from my DIL that led to a textversation about the ways our bodies change, but more importantly the way our expectations of ourselves and what we can do change as we continue our journeys as runners.

At the end of the day – and especially any given run – it is those immeasurable, un-quantifiable things that running gives us that keeps us coming back for more.
It’s running a distance you’ve never run before.
It’s a body that just feels stronger.
It’s doing A Thing we never thought we could.
It’s hearing “Your calves look amazing!” when we’ve been focused on our gut.
It’s ‘getting’ what “I ran ‘X’ miles today!” means to another runner.
It’s knowing what PR/PB means because you’ve had one.  And want to set another.
It’s having someone say “You encourage me!”  “You inspire me!”  “I appreciate your encouragement!” 

And then there are the messages that make it just impossible to ever – no matter how bad last week’s second four mile run s-u-c-k-e-d, and no matter how many doubts about finishing a marathon Saturday’s eight miles left me with – quit this thing called running.
How do you quit a thing that gives you all that?!

But, some nights, it’s putting on Those PJ Pants.
And having them fit!

Because it will never be harder than chemo for a kid

Today is exactly 20 weeks – 140 days – from Marathon Day!
Today’s Long Run was 6 miles.
Today’s run is the shortest Long Run we will have until after The Marathon.
I have our entire Marathon Training Program on a Google Calendar, a paper calendar that hangs above my desk at work, a second paper calendar that hangs in our kitchen at home, and on an Excel Spreadsheet.
Oh, and in my Franklin Covey Planner.
I have it in all those places not because I have some undiagnosed psychosis or neurosis. I have it in all those places so I don’t have to constantly be thinking about “What’s next?”
(Which could, quite probably, have led to the development of some undiagnosed psychosis or neurosis. But I fixed that.)

Early on in this whole process I started freaking myself out by constantly checking and rechecking the whole entire thing semi-obsessively to make sure I wasn’t double-booking us for some sort of non-running event – because we have so much time in our calendar for anything non-running these six months – and in doing that I started looking at the number of miles we’d be working up to and Freaking The Eff Out!
“I can’t possibly run 14/16/18/22 miles! I’ll die! My legs will collapse. My lungs will explode! I’m not THAT kind of runner!”
Thankfully, during one particularly freak-out filled run I had the sudden flash of sanity that I didn’t have to run 14, 16, 18, or 22 miles that particular day. All I had to run was that day’s three or four or however many miles it was.

Much like the sudden flash of sanity I’d had the first time I set out to run more than four miles.  After nearly hyperventilating I realized that I didn’t have to run the entire four miles that minute, all I had to run was the five minute interval I was at the start of. Then I would walk for two minutes. Then I would run the next five minute interval.  But in that moment all I had to run was the given five minutes.

So, just like I worked through that little existential crisis, I realized that in documenting the entire training plan (in a ‘couple of places’) I no longer had to focus on anything other than any given day’s scheduled miles.

And, four weeks ago, we set off on Our Marathon Training Program.

Brief Aside
We are incredibly blessed (and grateful beyond belief) to live in a city that boasts an indescribably amazing Running Club. We are surrounded by experienced runners (many of whom are certified trainers) who are more than willing to impart their knowledge and wisdom-from-experience anytime we ask.
In addition to that we have not one, but two, actual Running Stores (as opposed to Big Box Sporting Goods Stores) each of which offers a Marathon Training Program designed to prepare local area runners for St. Jude. This year St. Jude is also offering a Marathon Training Program, which is also great! We decided to go with the training program offered by our favorite Running Store, in great part because we have a great relationship with the owner and his staff and trust their judgment and guidance.

Brief Aside Concluded

The first two weeks our training runs felt like what I’m pretty sure military boot camp does. On X Day we ran X Miles.
Why? Because we had to. The Schedule said so. And so we did.
And those runs felt like exactly how I was approaching them: Mandatory steps to get to what I really wanted to do – Run The Marathon.

I began to dread these runs the way one dreads going to the dentist, making a toast at a distant relative’s wedding reception, and trotting out the Christmas Sweater you got from Aunt Hattie in 1987 because “she just adores seeing you in it”.
Don’t get me wrong.
I love running.
I love everything about running.
I love the release, the relief, the effort, the personal barrier shattering.
I love finishing a run dripping with sweat, red-faced, gasping for air, with at least some part of me crying out in protest for a few seconds.  Just because.
But I found myself not loving The Training Runs.
And it stymied me.
I mean, what the hell?!  (Sorry Mother.)
Here I am doing something I love to raise money for a place I love and believe in like few other places I know.
And I am haaaaating it!
Quitting was not an option, so I decided to heed the advice of one of my favorite Bondi Band headbands and “Suck it up, Buttercup!” hoping that the dread of the Must Do Training Runs would somehow get left behind me on the pavement like the stress of work or several ounces of sweat.

And then.
It happened.
It was on a Monday about two weeks ago and, after a week or two of unseasonably cool summer weather, it was hot.
Hot hot.
Ugly, muggy, nowhere for sweat to evaporate to, sun glaring down like the wrath of someone wrathful, hot.
Memphis in July hot.
Who saw that coming?!
Oh.
Wait.
Anyone who’s ever spent a July here.
Enough about the weather.
Memphis.
July.
Hot.
Happens.
Back to my epiphany…
It was hot and there I was again not looking forward to that evening’s run.
Add to that the fact that it was the first week of our running club’s Women’s Running Training Program which I should have been looking forward to.
No, I was looking forward to it.
Really, I was!
I love seeing all these Beginning Runners taking control of their health and, for many of them, doing something Just For Them for the first time in their lives.

I just wasn’t looking forward to my run. My miles.
HCRP and I were going to get to the venue early to get in a couple miles so our total mileage would add up to what the training plan called for.
As I was changing from work clothes to running clothes and mentally bitching about the heat and why couldn’t it be a little bit overcast and where did our cooler summer weather go a thought came slamming into the front of my brain: Kids going through chemo at St. Jude don’t get to ‘just not do chemo’ because it’s too hot. Or too cold. Or too early. Or because they’re “just not feelin’ it”. They have to do it No Matter What.
From that realization was born my New Running Mantra: No run will ever be harder than chemo for a kid.
Since that moment there’s been at least one day when I just really didn’t “feel like” running. But I did. Because kids can’t “not feel like” chemo.
There have been moments during runs when I wanted to just stop and walk the rest of the way back to the car. But I didn’t. Because kids can’t “just stop” chemo.
There have been times when my lungs protested sucking in 70+% humid air and sweat was running into my eyes and my knee was twinging and IT Band and/or Piriformis was screaming and I tied my shoes too tight and . . . and . . . and . . . And whatever it was that was uncomfortable couldn’t hold a candle to what chemo does to a kid during and after.
They can’t make excuses. I don’t have any.
And you wanna know a little secret?
There are no more ‘bad’ runs for me.
I cherish every one of them.
Because no run – no matter how long how hot how cold how anything – will ever be harder than chemo for a kid.

National Running Day

Who knew?!
No. Seriously. Who knew? Before like Sunday when it started popping up all over Facebook I didn’t know that The First Wednesday in June is National Running Day.
And because I didn’t know that The First Wednesday in June is National Running Day I had accepted an invitation (and tickets) for HCRP and I to attend a local charity event.

I woke up this morning thinking “Ooh! 89 degrees will make for a great run this evening!” I even had the presence of mind to check my gym bag to be sure I had everything together for a run. And then it hit me (when it was too late to get a run in before work): There are simply not enough hours in the day for me to work, run, attend the charity event, be a good pet owner, eat, sleep . . .
And let the guilt cycling begin!
How am I not going to run on National Running Day?!
How am I not going to attend this event we’ve been so generously hosted at?!
How am I going to do everything that’s expected of me by my running friends and my job and my non-runner friends and the cats and the dog and – oh yeah – a girl’s gotta eat!
I finally said, out loud, and in So Many Words “There just aren’t enough hours to make everybody happy!”

And then I got to work.
I fired up my computer, and my desktop background started cycling through the 30+ ‘motivational/inspirational’ images I’ve collected from Ye Olde Interwebs and lo and behold I get patted on the shoulder by this one:

281972_439898836052990_1821223776_n“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Not my running friends.
Not my non-running friends.
Not anyone.
Not. Any. One.

So no, I will not in fact be running on National Running Day.
I will be going to work.
I will be supporting my fellow runners as they log their miles today.
I will be honoring the graciousness of the person hosting us at the event we are attending tonight.
I will be taking care of my household.
I will not be running.
Not today.
I will run tomorrow.
And that’s okay.
And I will set a reminder on my calendar for next year that The First Wednesday in June is National Running Day.

Oh and P.S. the pain that’s plagued the ball of my right foot for the past five weeks? I saw a (really freakin’ awesome) Podiatrist yesterday and the verdict is: inflammation of second metatarsal. Have an orthotic to offset pressure on the ball of the foot. Double dose of Aleve twice a day for 2 weeks. And I’m good to go to “get back out there running”.

We run. We learn. We suffer Ignominity.

In the one year and roughly ten months since I laced up my theretofore walking shoes and set out on my first outing as a runner I have learned many things.

  1. That I can, in fact, run!  Not just run “because zombies/people with big guns/IRS agents/Student Loan collectors are chasing me”, but run because I want to and I actually enjoy doing it.
  2. That falling on a run is generally never as bad as we imagine it will be before we’ve done it.
  3. That sometimes when one adopts a major lifestyle change, other people aren’t so much fans of it.  And that’s okay.  They don’t have to be.
  4. That if you push yourself past one “I’ve never/I could never” boundary you start looking for others to barrel over.
    I started running saying “I’ll only ever want to run 5Ks.  I have no need to ever run A Marathon!”  I currently have several 5Ks, three 10Ks, and a Half under my laces, and now those laces are with me as I train for what? A Marathon.
  5. That once you open yourself up to One Big, New Thing other Bigger, Newer Things follow quickly in its wake and your life becomes the Biggest, Newest Thing of them all.
  6. Tonight I learned that I can, in fact, stay on an elliptical for more than 1.5 miles and it will not kill me.
    And by “stay on” I don’t mean just stand there texting and flirting with the weight lifters (seen it!).  I mean “stay on” as in actually moving the foot sleds in an appropriate rotational motion over and over and over and over again for all of 3.0 miles!  And I didn’t quit.  Not even when my quads were screaming in two part harmony “Get thee to a treadmill woman!”  (They didn’t say “woman” but Mother will be sorely disappointed if I repeat their little potty-mouthed commentaries.)

Like many other runners I’ve come to love reading about running.  Amby Burfoot, Christopher McDougall, Hal Higdon, and George Sheehan are my new Jodi Picoult and Alice Hoffman.  Runner’s World has replaced O and Real Simple.
Most of my “Liked” pages on Facebook have to do with running.
And our social life revolves around races, either running them or volunteering with our running club because that’s another running is: A community.

But I’m digressing a bit here . . .
Back to the reading about running . . .

As I’ve read about running I’ve come to the conclusion that there certain Inevitable Ignominious Interludes in the life of every runner.  After Sunday’s run I’ve knocked two off the list. It was actually during Sunday’s run (which was supposed to be Saturday’s run but got put off due to circumstances beyond our control) that this list came to me.  So here I will share:

The Runner’s List of (mostly) Inevitable Ignominious Interludes

  1. Falling.  Otherwise known as face-planting.
    Been there, done that.  Got the high fives from other runners!
  2. Eating a bug.  Covered this one on Sunday.  Okay, kindasorta covered it…
    There I was running along and feeling pretty good given that Sunday was “Suddenly Summer Day” here in our fair metrolopolis when *ack* *cough* *gag* I felt the distinctive sensation of a bug hitting the roof of my mouth.  Thank God my lightening quick “I don’t want to choke to death alone on this trail” reflex kicked in and I managed to trap it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth and spit it out before I ended up curled up on the trail praying for a Heimlich Certified ‘nother runner to come along before I gasped my last gasp.
  3. Spitting/Being Spat Upon
    Much like everyone poops (the cute children’s book, not the runner version – I’m getting to that) every runner spits.
    I learned to spit.
    Unlike my little sister and her childhood BFF Angie I did not hone my spitting skills at a young age.  I was blessed to have a Southern Grandmother who instilled in me a strong sense of what Young Ladies do and do not do.  Spitting ranked high on that list.  Little Sister had the same Southern Grandmother, she just didn’t care about The List.
    However, once you become a runner many otherwise socially unacceptable behaviors become necessities.  Spitting is high on that list.  It didn’t take me too many runs to learn that swallowing too much water while running would more than likely lead to ignominity #5 or #6, so my ever-patient HCRP worked with me on the vital skill of “Swish and Spit”.
    But with great power comes great responsibility and in the case of spitting one must learn to look left, look right, look right again, then spit.  To the right.  I have yet to spit on another runner and, thankfully, I have yet to be spat upon.  My days are, obviously, numbered.
  4. Snot Rockets.
    I’m reasonably certain I just lost every single non-runner who’s ever stumbled across this blog with those two little words.  But runners know the nose knows and sometimes you just got to blow.

    I actually saw Kara Goucher blow a snot rocket at the Starting Line of the New Orleans Half this year and was shocked when I found myself respecting her style instead of being utterly disgusted. Another “I’m A Real Runner Now!” moment.
  5. Puking.
    There are a host of reasons why puking happens in running: Nerves, fueling too close to your run, changing what you eat to fuel before a run the day of a race (never, ever, ever do this!), consuming too much water or sports beverages during a run (hence the importance of mastering the Swish and Spit), and heat (a big one down here in Dixie).  And the one that I think maybe about 10% of us ever really do: Leaving absolutely everything on the course and having nothing but the waning contents of your stomach to leave at the Finish Line.
  6. Peeing.
    As in down one’s own leg, not just in general.
    Again, a number of factors can lead to this, but it generally comes down to either skipping a port-o-john or being so intent to PR or win that you honestly don’t care about anything else and stopping is not an option!  (I can assure you this one will likely never happen to me. If I have to choose between peeing anywhere but down my own leg or pretty much anything else, the “anything else” is out the window.)
  7. Remember: Everybody Poops
    And sometimes runners poop . . .  well . . . on the run.
    This is one that easily 99% of us will never, ever experience because we don’t run that far or that hard.  But it does happen.  To the Extreme Runners.  And from what I gather, they really don’t give a crap!  Okay, they do but not the way most of the rest of us would.  They’re too busy being awesome and superhuman to care about such.  In fact, at that level, I’m pretty certain it’s almost a badge of honor.
    However, if you’re concerned about preventing this in your own running experience I had a little time Sunday during The Longest 2.75 Mile Run Ever to come up with my personal list of Things That (might) Make You Go Poo:
    Changing your pre-run/race fueling foods. This is not the time to change partners in mid-dance people!  Replacing peanut butter with almond butter is probably perfectly safe, just not right before running.  Tummies are funny things.
    Switching sports drinks.  If you’re a Gatorade drinker switching to Powerade is probably best done on a rest day just in case there really is a substantive difference in their chemical composition.  (This is a lesson I learned from personal experience, thankfully not during a run or race.)
    Deciding that the night before a race (or run) is the perfect time to try “Thai Hot” for the very first time.  It isn’t.  It never will be.

I am certain, because I’m still a Running Newbie, that I’ve either missed or completely mis-conceived something in this list.  But if you’re Running Newbier than me I’m probably not too far from right.