Running Chick with the Orange Hat

Not Watching

2009-12-13T21:07:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago, I met my Running Partner (RP) (yes, I totally stole that abbreviation from you Jon!) for our weekly long run. I stood in her driveway and finished donning my gear while my Garmin quickly found the satellites. I quickly slapped it on my wrist and pressed 'start' as we headed out the driveway and down the street.

We were running a particularly hilly route, especially for the first half of the run. I forced myself to not look at the watch and just focused on getting up the hills. It was a cold, windy morning and we were chatting non-stop for mile after mile. Well, actually my RP was doing most of the chatting...I was nodding and grunting 'uh huh' while trying to not lose chunks of my lung as we pushed up the steep inclines.

Somewhere around mile 9-ish, my RP stopped for a quick break. As is customary whenever my feet stop moving, I pressed 'stop' on my watch. I heard a beep and looked down at the display to see how we were doing. At that moment, my brain froze in utter confusion. The watch reported that we had been running for 7 seconds and had traversed a only a few feet.

Wait. What?

My brain quickly unfroze in HORROR as I realized that the watch had never actually started when I pressed 'start' in the driveway. However, much more interesting to note is the fact that I had never even looked at it until the run was almost over. The only reason I even knew that we were at the mile 9-ish mark is because it took 3 miles to finish the planned 12 mile route (now that the Garmin was actually STARTED). My RP didn't wear a watch, so she had no data to share with me. I was completely data-less, for no good reason.

I. Never. Even. Looked. Can you believe it? I still cannot.

I am still in a state of shock because it just doesn't seem feasible that I didn't pay ANY attention. I am a number cruncher. I check my pace frequently. I love to download data from my Garmin and pour over the information in search of revealling patterns. I'm always hopeful to spot glimmers of improvement but most days, I am simply hoping to not be slower than than the previous run. On days when my Garmin has not been charged and ready to go, I have to wear a watch. I just HAVE to know details about my run. I feel restless, awkward, and uncomfortable when I am not able to somehow collect objective information. It's unnerving to be data-less.

Sure, I could wax poetic about how I may be having a breakthrough in my running and I that I no longer feel constrained by the numbers on my wrist. Maybe a new path is being forged by this Running Chick, and I'll be freed of the pressure to meet my own expectations.

Or maybe, I just need to remember to actually look at my watch when I press start, or else I'll wind up in some therapist's office, crying on the couch about feeling like a puzzle with a missing piece.

MCM 2009 - Strategies and Analysis

2009-11-10T21:03:00.002-05:00

One of the great things about running a marathon is the lessons to be learned once the sweat has been wiped away and the muscle soreness has subsided. Now that I can navigate the stairs again without crying, it's time to take a deeper look at my race.

Pre-existing Condition(s)

It's been two and a half years since I've run a marathon. Since then, I've been taking classes, changing careers, adjusting to new schedules, missing yoga, sleeping less, eating worse, gaining five pounds and have felt perpetually stressed out. This combination has created a less than perfect foundation for me to build my training, and I knew that going in to this endeavor. However, I didn't have a true appreciation for how unhealthy I had become over the past two years until it was too late.

Training Schedule

I used the same schedule that my coach had put together for me for the Hartford Marathon in 2006, with some minor adjustments. I figured if I could handle that schedule, then I could run my BQ time of 3:45 or better. I nailed every workout for the first 16 weeks of training. Over the last three weeks, I skipped the speed workouts and one or two other smaller mileage runs. I had been feeling so tired and rundown, that is seemed more prudent to get some extra rest and recovery than squeeze in those last few workouts.

Nutrition and Hydration

During training, I experimented with the timing of my meals prior to my long runs. I had read somewhere that the meal you had a lunch the day before a long run or race was the more important meal, so I was interested to see if that would work for me. I started having pasta for lunch and then a lighter dinner the day before the long run. I tried to apply that same logic the day before race day, however I ran into a few unanticipated problems with 'meal management' being away from home.

On race day, I knew there might some trouble later in the day when I made too many trips to the portalets before the race started. I was experiencing some GI issues that were usual for me on race morning. My tummy felt a little 'off' but I convinced myself that it was just nerves. At mile 5, I had to choke down the first Gu, forcing myself to eat it. I think I was only able to get one more Gu down, somewhere past the halfway mark; after that my stomach was not remotely interested. I should have tried to eat more, but I just couldn't do it.

The marathon had water stops about every 2 miles, which was new for me. I have become accustomed to more frequent stops, and I use them as a reminder to drink from my Fuel Belt (Accelerade and Gatorade Endurance). It wasn't until too late that I realized I wasn't drinking often enough. (Even in my every day life, my hydration has been decreased overall which has had a cumulative effort).

Aftermath

Body Glide saved me from blisters on my toes and from chafing in the usual spots. It didn't save me from the chafing in the unusual spots, like my lower back where my Fuel Belt was rubbing or my hip where my ID in my key pocket was rubbing. I earned the obligatory black toe nails - one on each foot. Although one was already black from the Hartford Half Marathon a few weeks ago. I suspect that I may be saying 'Goodbye' to that particular toe nail.

Rest, Recovery, and Return to the Roads

Here's the honest truth: this was my fifth marathon, and it felt as bad as my first. I wasn't disappointed in my finish time, but I was disappointed with how I felt. I expected to be feeling strong over the last few miles, and to be able to finish with a kick. Instead, I felt completely wrecked and it was so frustrating.

I waited four days before running again, and those four miles were tough - I was still sore and tired. I tried again two days after that, with similar results. My muscles would throb afterward and I felt tight all over. I took the hint, and took all of last week off completely. I ran 5 miles on Saturday, and it felt moderately better, but I still felt sore and achey afterwards. I was stumped.

Then I realized the ONE thing that was different. Over the winter, I took 5-6 weeks off from running and stopped using my orthotics due to an ankle injury. I never put my orthotics back in my shoes, as I seemed to be 'fine' without them. Could it be that simple?

I wore them for my next run on Sunday, and it was like finding my legs again. No aches or pains, during or after. Apparently, the months of training without the orthotics caught up with me on marathon day and were the last piece of the puzzle in my perfect storm.

The mileage will stay in the 25-30 miles a week from now until December. Then I'll decide about running Boston this year, or exercising the option to run next year (that's the bonus of qualifying in late October - you have a two year window).

MCM 2009 - Always Earned, Never Given

2009-10-29T21:57:00.003-04:00

The last time I tried to run a ‘destination’ marathon, I flew across the country to San Diego, caught "The Ick" and was unable to run the race. My second attempt at a ‘destination’ marathon found me at the start line of the Marine Corp Marathon this past Sunday morning. This is my very lengthy account of that adventure.

Friday evening: I dashed out of work, drove home, grabbed my bag and was at the airport with plenty of time to spare. I called my former coach and when he asked what my goal was for the race, I replied "I guess I'm shooting for a 3:40" in a very non-committed kind of way. Behind my half-hearted statement, the truth was this: I wanted to re-qualify for Boston, so I had to run at least a 3:45, and technically I had trained for a 3:30. I was content to just see what would happen if all the right pieces fell into place, without any pressure.

The flight was late, but uneventful and I was at the hotel by 10 p.m. Jeanne had left me a message with instructions on where to meet her in the morning so we could ride to the expo together.

Saturday: A whirlwind day of text messages, phone calls and logistical details. A metro ride with Jeanne to the expo, a visit to a Starbucks in Chinatown and a quick visit to the National Portrait Gallery to soak up some free art. I felt so cosmopolitan and cultured. Then it was off to a late lunch where we met up with my friend Kirsten and her hubby and two young kids. I feasted like glutton on pasta with sausage and peppers and a delicious salad. (I think I scared Jeanne with my appetite. Honestly, I scared myself a little.)

Just as we stepped out of the restaurant, our hotel shuttle was passing by, so it was a rushed goodbye with Jeanne, but at least we have a picture that proves that we were together.

After some quiet time back at the hotel, Kristen came by and we watched 'Spirit of the Marathon' to get motivated for the journey to come. I found it odd that I wasn't feeling more nervous or stressed about the race. It just felt like another run.

I wasn't hungry for dinner, but we made our way down to the hotel dining room around 7:00 p.m. I had a turkey club sandwich with a handful of french fries. Looking back now, that might not have been a great choice; I should have asked for a special order of grilled chicken, rice and a small salad or side of veggies.

Sleep was typically elusive, as it always is the night before a race. I fell asleep after midnight and woke up every 30 minutes or so. I've spent the past two years sleep deprived, so this wasn't a big concern for me, but it was another piece of the plan that didn't fall into place.

Race morning went like clockwork. Getting to the Runner's Village was a breeze and breezy with mild winds blowing. I was grateful for the 'throw-away' sweats and long-sleeved tee that I had worn, as it was a little chilly in the pre-dawn hour. The most impressive thing to me: the sheer number of port-a-potties. I was amazed, and it was just a wonderful sight to see all those little boxes lined up next to each other. I didn't wait more that 5-10 minutes to use one.

On the way to the start line, there was a final dash into the woods. As I was finishing up my business, a man comes rushing in to the woods RIGHT NEXT TO ME. There was plenty of other places - trees, bushes, tall grass - that he could have chosen, yet he chose my spot. Sigh.

As we pushed our way through the crowds to get to our place in the pack, we could hear the announcer "Two more minutes to the wheelchair start" and then "Five more minutes to the marathon start". We kept pressing forward, watching for our Pace Group signs - Kristen looking for 3:45 and me for 3:40. We found 3:50, but couldn't find either one of ours. We didn't want to line up much further up in the corral and get caught up in the faster pace, so we stayed put, standing near other runners who said they were trying for the same paces that we were. Kristen was nervous about not being with the pace group, so I silently decided that I would try to pace her for the the first 10K or so, and then I would pick up my pace so we could each run our own race.

BOOM! The howitzer fired, marking the start of the race, and 4 minutes later, we crossed the official start line. The first mile was as slow as expected as we all navigated around each other, trying to find our paces and spaces in the sea of runners. The spectators were wonderful, with loud cheers, bright signs and lots of cow bells. That remained the standard for most of the race - crowds on and off the course.

At the end of the first 5K, I had adjusted our pace so we were right on track:
5K in 00:26:27 (NET). Pace: 8:30. Predicted: 3:43:03. Since my Garmin is not 100% accurate, I was finding it difficult to gauge our actual pace. By the time we crossed the 10K mark, I had picked up the pace to my intended race pace, and Kristen was running strong right next to me: 10K in 00:52:16 (NET). Pace: 8:24. Predicted: 3:40:31.

As we passed through Georgetown and I soaked up the energy from the spectators, I laughed when I saw a sign that said "That's not sweat...it's your fat cells crying." Brilliant. I felt a surge of adrenaline. It was wonderful.

From there, things started to get weird. Somewhere around Mile 9, my right calf muscle started to cramp, and felt like it was just on the verge of a full fledged Charlie horse. I stopped to try to stretch it, with unsuccessful results, and continued on, hoping that it would work itself out. It never did (and four days later it's the only part of me that's still sore). I was still pacing us at MY pace, and not Kristen's: 15K in 01:18:16 (NET). Pace: 8:23. Predicted: 3:40:06. I began to worry about being a bad pace leader.

We were heading out towards Haines Point and crowd support was beginning to get sparse. There were some Kappa Sigma brothers cheering VERY loudly, and I smiled to myself as I thought 'They're no Wellesley Scream Tunnel but they'll do in a pinch.'

Kristen mentioned that she needed to slow the pace down a little. I tried to slow down, and I thought I actually did slow down, but the next time I looked over my shoulder for her, she was further back. By the halfway point, we were officially separated: 20K in 01:44:26 (NET). Pace: 8:24. Predicted: 3:40:20 and Half in 01:50:17 (NET). Pace: 8:24. Predicted: 3:40:34.

I passed by an older woman (age in the late 60's, early 70's) and took note of her MCM t-shirt which read "Always earned. Never given." Just as I was about to make a comment, I heard a Marine tell her that he loved her shirt. I turned and agreed with him, and he said "If only we could get Generation M to learn that." I responded with a hearty "Yes, sir!"

At this point, I knew trouble was on the horizon. I wasn't drinking enough, and I'd only eaten two Gu gels. My stomach wasn't remotely interested in food. My right calf was still tight and the outside of my left knee was quickly following suit. I couldn't understand why I was feeling so tired so early in the race. I distracted myself by watching spectators and forced myself to smile as much as possible. Once in a while I would look around and remember that I was in our nation's capital as a monument would pop into view. My pace stayed steady: 25K in 02:10:11 (NET). Pace: 8:22. Predicted: 3:39:42.

Passing by the Lincoln Memorial was overwhelming - the significance of the structure and the size and energy of the crowd really picked up my spirits again. I smiled when I heard someone yell "I have a dream!" The long trip around the mall rewarded me with a Jeanne-sighting and got me through to mile 20. I was sorely unprepared for 'beating the bridge' as I didn't realize that I would be running on a highway for nearly two miles. I was digging deep into my soul over that stupid bridge, and my pace had already started to slow: 30K in 02:36:40 (NET). Pace: 8:35. Predicted: 3:45:10.

The final miles were tougher than I imagined they would be, and having Marines handing me water at the aid stations was motivating, serving as a constant reminder that if they could make tremendous personal sacrifices and endure, I could run a few measly miles through some discomfort. Crystal City was a blur, with the highlights being: the smell of beer from a make-shift water stop, a young woman vomiting in the pachysandra and the self-made promise of walking through the remaining water stops.

I nearly sobbed when I realized that we had to get back onto the highway for the final stretch to the finish. There were no spectators, and it reminded me of a war scene, with runners walking, shuffling, and even sitting down on the side of the road, with their heads hanging low. My feet felt like they were dragging through molasses as I plodded along. I felt discouraged by my inability to pick up the pace, as I had finished most of my long training runs at 8:00-8:10 min/mile pace. Where was my reserve tank of gas?

Finally, the highway ended and the crowds began to swell again. As I passed by the Marines lining the course, I almost asked one of them to run me in. This was the first time I would be approaching a finish line without having had a friend run along side of me for at least the last 6 miles.

In an instant, I spot Jeanne and she runs out onto the course with her camera, randomly snapping away. She asks "How do you feel?!" and I mumbled "I've got nothing left to give. Where is the finish line?" She says "Haven't you passed the Mile 26 mark yet?" No. I hadn't. And I really, really wanted to,

And then I did. My reward? An uphill finish, with a sharp right hand turn. As I rounded the corner, I slowed to take one, two steps...then dug deeper and pushed forward as the crowd cheered their loudest. I didn't care who they were cheering for...at the moment, it was all for me. Finish in 03:43:58 (NET). Pace: 8:32.

I crossed the finish, came to a dead stop with hands on my knees and garnered the attention of about 5 handsome young men in uniform. I kept saying "I'm OK. I just need to stop running." I straightened up, shuffled forward in a daze and had a space blanket draped over my shoulders. A few steps further, and yet another Marine was placing my medal around my neck. As I said 'Thank you, sir' I felt the words catch in my throat and fought back tears. I felt completely engulfed by my emotions and struggled to keep them hidden. A glimpse of the Marine Corp Memorial nearly sent me over the edge, and a phone call home to my husband left me hyperventilating.

Jeanne spotted me through the fence and shouted encouraging words to me, something about me qualifying for Boston. Slowly, I wound my way through the crowd and out onto the street. I started to look around for a medical tent, as I was suddenly overcome with nausea and some potential GI distress. After a few moments of sitting on a curb, I recovered enough to shuffle over to the baggage trucks, where Jeanne and I were reunited. She produced a magical band aid from somewhere in her bag, and helped me apply it to my bloody toe. She carried my bags for me, rubbed my shoulders and helped calm me down. In those moments, she went from being a bloggy-friend to being family, and I will be forever grateful.

The rest of the adventure involves finding my friend Kristen at the beer tent, a long bus ride, a search for a taxi, a narrowly missed late check-out fees, a shower in the hotel's fitness center locker room, a beer and burger at the hotel bar with fellow racers, and a flight back home.

Now the question remains: Boston 2010 or 2011?

Smiles and Frowns from My Favorite Race

2009-10-07T20:24:00.003-04:00

Labor Day (Sept. 7th) was the seventh time I’ve had the pleasure of running the New Haven Road Race 20K. There were smiles and frowns that day:

Smiles:

I had the pleasure of sharing my drive down to the race with one of my new training partners – she’s lively and funny and darn good company in the car and on the roads. Our incessant chatter helped to keep those race day butterflies under control.

I was able to catch up with all my Bloggy-Runner friends – always great to see familiar faces and swap stories. It may be a year between visits, but we seems to reconnect as if we just saw each other last week.

We had absolutely PERFECT racing weather. This was the best weather I can recall in all seven years that I’ve been on the course.

The little old ladies were on the bridge in their traditional spot, sitting in their old-school aluminum lawn chairs. They are always there, every single year, cheering for everyone like each runner is leading the pack. I don’t know what I will do if those ladies are ever NOT on the bridge.

Another annual tradition was honored as chocolate truffles were passed around after race as we gathered in our lopsided circle on the grass. The truffles were made by this guy, of course. YUM.

And the final high point of the day - a PR by 43 seconds.

Frowns:

My super-secret bathroom was ‘under construction’ which meant I had to wait in the looong Porta-Potty line.

The beer line was so loooong that I actually decided that I would not drink my favorite beer of the whole summer (the brand of beer itself is not my favorite, just the act of having that cold cup of delicious beer at the end of that race.)

However, the very worst moment of all: when I realized that I had lost my Garmin Forerunner 305, given to me as a gift by my coach and containing all my mile splits for the day.

Overall, I’d say that the day ‘broke even’ and I can live with the results.

Since then, I've run a half-marathon (in the pouring rain) as part of a 22-mile training run and have registered for another half-marathon for this coming weekend. The training is quickly coming to a close and it's just a few more weeks until I get to run in our nations capital!

The Goods

2009-08-26T20:38:00.004-04:00

I'm thrilled to report that a few good things have been happening around here lately:

Free is Good

About a month ago, I received an email from a marketing company, offering me the opportunity to try out a Moving Comfort sports bra of my choosing. After carefully considering their offer for about 10 seconds, I responded with a hearty "YES PLEASE!" because 1) sports bras are not cheap and 2) I already own and cherish a Moving Comfort bra that I wear for yoga and cycling, so I was confident that they would come through with a good running bra.

Disaster *almost* struck when I received an email stating that my selected bra was not available and that the "experts" at Moving Comfort had selected a comparable bra for me in a similar style...and in a size that I was POSITIVE would not fit me. When I received the Phoebe bra in cornflower color, I quickly learned how the "experts" earned their titles - it was a perfect fit. (Please note, if I was ordering this bra for myself without expert help...I would have had to return it because I would have selected a size that was too small for me.)

I wore it twice - once during a very, very humid and warm 4 mile run and then again during a less humid 18 mile run. My requirements fr a sports bra are simple: no chafing, no bouncing, good wicking, and able to be removed from underneath a shirt. The bra exceeded my performance expectations and then some.

Good Fun in the Sun

I would be remiss if I did not follow up to my previous post about the race I love to hate. I did participate in the race and survived to tell the tale. I have to admit, this was probably the 'best' weather out of all three years of my participation. It was hot. It was SUNNY. But it wasn't humid, and that made the course a little more bearable.

I started the race with the mindset of "It's just a training run" and stayed relaxed for the first 6 miles, chatting with my friends. But then my legs took over and my dreams of being a supportive runner to my partners were dashed as I just couldn't contain my energy. They urged me to go on without them, so I picked up the pace for the second half of the race. I admit that I felt guilty for leaving my friends behind as I kept passing runners wilting in the heat. However, it was quite a boost to my confidence to be able to pick up the pace, finish strong and not feel completely wasted at the finish line. My last mile clocked in at 7:47, and that was after 18 other miles already under my belt for the day.

The best part of the day was hanging out with my wonderful friends afterwards, including this guy who flew in from Florida the night before and then spent half of the first day of his vacation baking in the sun with us. His post about the race is a Must Read.

Good Times

Finally, I'll make a brief mention of my marathon training: It's right on track [pun totally intended]. I've been able to hit my weekly goal miles and times without difficulty. [knock on wood, please]. The funny thing is - I don't really have an actual race goal yet. My marathon partner wants us to 'run our own races' ... so that leaves me wondering what my pace should be for Marathon #5. I may just wait until race day and see what happens. I have no aspirations for a PR this year so the pressure is off from that perspective. Luckily, I've got at least 8 more long runs to mull it over with my training partners.

The Race I Love To Hate

2009-07-28T21:16:00.002-04:00

Runner-friends who know me well have heard me rant, rave, whine, complain and cry about how much I hate, despise, and loathe running in the heat. I find absolutely no joy in sweat-soaked slogs through humidity laden air whilst baking under a blazing sun. I try my hardest not to race during the summer months, especially since most races start at 8:00-9:00 a.m. which is when I try to be DONE running, not just STARTING. You get the picture.

Back in 2006, I ran the John J Kelley 11.6 mile race for the first time, but the race has been around for 47 years. It attracts all sorts of big names and running legends, yet it’s a smaller race with absolutely no entrance fee. Plus, it starts and ends at the beach which is always an added bonus, especially for the spectators that get dragged along to these events. Sounds perfect, right?

I had a great race that day, but it was unbelievably hot and uncomfortable, as it usually is in August in New England. Looking back at my race report, it seems that I was willing to overlook the heat and intended to add that race to my list of ‘favorites.’ I missed the race in 2007, but a fellow blogger coaxed me back in 2008. My race did not go quite as well last year, between the heat and the Swim With the Car Key Fob incident. I truly suffered on the course, falling apart for miles 8, 9 and 10 and barely redeeming myself in the last mile.

Interestingly, I seem to have selective amnesia about the true pain that the race causes me because I find myself with plans to head down there again on Saturday for this year’s installment. Of course, after a summer of cooler temperatures, low humidity and rain, it seems that summer has decided to finally arrive, just in time to deliver another smack down to me, most likely at the same mile 8 marker. I’m not ready for the heat but I have a different strategy this year: I don’t care about my finishing time.

I’m going to use the race as part of my planned 19-mile training run, and will be running it with my marathon-partner. I don’t usually use races as ‘training’ fodder but it fit perfectly into the schedule, and it’s a great meeting place for me and my partner. As an added bonus, there may be another blogger there. So we’ll run it in at a relaxed pace and enjoy the summer day. I won’t embrace the heat, but maybe I can at least be cordial with it for one day.

Out and Back

2009-04-21T21:17:00.003-04:00

Oh the suspense of the last eight weeks!

Here’s a quick recap for those of you with busy lives who want the quick-and-dirty: I just started running again about three weeks ago after five weeks of no running at all. I’ve withdrawn from the Half Iron and registered for the Marine Corp Marathon. (I'll still be going to the Mooseman Half-Iron to cheer for and support my friends/bloggers.)

Ultimately, I’m not meant to race in the month of June. Out of the past four years, I’ve planned three different June races and had to scratch each one off the list for one reason or another.

The first lesson from this story: recognize a pattern and learn from it. Note to self: no more BIG races in June (I'll bet I said this last June too).

Second lesson from this story: it takes an incredible amount of energy, motivation and will-power to start a new career and simultaneously train for a triathlon while rehabbing from an injury.

Honestly, when I embarked on this journey towards the Half Iron, I thought that it would be a good way to keep my spirits up over the long winter and serve as something positive to focus on. However, it seems that a few things went awry:

1) I didn’t factor in how exhausted I would feel during the first few months of working as a physical therapist assistant. I took for granted how much ‘rest’ I was getting at my previous desk-job…all that sitting, drinking water and eating while sitting down - I had no idea that would be a luxury in my new career! Being on my feet all day, talking to people constantly, manipulating body parts and *gasp* THINKING…well, it just leaves me wiped out.

2) I thought I would be working in a town that had easier access to a swimming pool. I envisioned myself stopping for a swim on the way to work or on the way home. That did not turn out to be true. I thought I could at least make it to a 8:00 pm swim class twice a week. That also did not turn out to be true…going back out in the winter weather to go swimming at night, and then being totally WIRED for hours afterwards? Not. Fun. I’d walk into work like a zombie the next morning. I dreaded going to the pool.

3) I certainly didn’t factor in a five-weeks-no-running injury. It didn’t just take a toll on my training plan, it also took a toll on my confidence and mental well-being. I define myself as a RUNNER first, a CYCLIST second and I only swim because I have to. Taking ‘running’ out of the equation just sent me into a downward spiral which led to a endless circle of no motivation, missed workouts and massive guilt (lather, rinse, repeat).

There you have it - the excuses, the rationale, the reasons. It was tough to admit I couldn’t pull it together AGAIN, but as I’ve said before, there are often more lessons to be learned in failing than there are in succeeding.

Therefore rather than focus all on ME for my next race, I’m helping a friend reach her Boston Qualifying time at the Marine Corp Marathon. Back in 2006-2007 when I reached that goal through the help of others, I promised myself that I would ‘pay it forward’ someday and help someone else achieve their dream. Back to running, back to my roots and it's time to turn the focus outwards rather than in. Onward.

Rebel Without a Schedule

2009-02-24T20:02:00.002-05:00

I've got this little race planned for June...something about a 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile bike ride, and a13.1 mile run. I have the physical capacity to complete each of the three components separately without a problem. Attempting to do them all on the same day, well...that's the challenge, isn't it?

Usually, when I undertake a new and bigger challenge, I spend hours researching different training plans, collecting ideas and advice from as many sources as possible and then I piece together the perfect plan. I've even been known to enlist the help of a coach when necessary.

This time, as I started gathering all the information, I realized that nothing really fit my style. I was looking for a beginner-to-intermediate program, with the focus evenly split on all three disciplines, maybe even a little heavier towards biking and running. To complicate matters, my daily routine has been changing on a weekly basis making it difficult to establish a solid routine that I could rely on week-by-week.

Therefore, my plan is to have no formal plan. Instead, I decided to just do this: swim - 2 days a week; bike/spin 2-3 days a week; run 4-5 days a week. Increase distances as needed, scale back every few weeks to get some extra rest, and try to schedule at least one day a week of total rest. Eat, sleep, hydrate.

How is the un-formal plan going? Truthfully, I don't think I've had a single week where I've hit every workout. I've missed a few swim sessions, and I am struggling to get on the bike trainer twice a week (and I've yet to make it past 40 minutes). To complicate matters, I've managed to develop some type of tendon/joint/bursa inflammation in my ankle, so running has been non-existent for over a week now. Drastic measures may be taken to remedy *that* situation.

I'm not worried. Yet. But this non-program program needs to shape up soon, or I'll be watching the race from the sidelines.

Staying Afloat

2009-02-10T07:15:00.002-05:00

The half Ironman training is officially underway, and I have again been reminded of the power of training with other people.

The best addition to my training schedule has been signing up for a Master’s swim class. For the uninitiated, ‘Master’s’ does not mean ‘old people’ or ‘people who have mastered swimming’. In our class, it simple means ‘people over the age of 18.’

I was feeling nervous and intimated about attending the first class – all those people in the pool with me at the same time! Sharing a lane with people faster than me! Plus, it had been months since I’d been in the pool and it always takes me a few swim sessions to get back into the swimming-groove.

I was pleasantly surprised to see some familiar faces, and even managed to get myself invited into a lane with two young women who could actually interpret the foreign looking language that outlined our workout for the night.

There were three workouts to select from, as announced by the swim coach: 2300 yards, 2700 yards and 3200 yards. I nearly choked when she read off those distances, as I had never completely more than 1800 yards and that was a the peak of my triathlon training, probably two years ago. What had I gotten myself into?

My lane-mates selected the 2700 yard workout and assured me that we would complete it in the allotted 90 minutes. I was extremely skeptical, especially when I noticed that the ‘warm up’ yardage was longer than my entire last workout in a pool. The first few laps were lung searing and I repeatedly questioned my sanity. I wondered if I could I get a refund.

Somehow I managed to make it through the whole workout, even attempting the backstroke for the first time (it was ugly). I was absolutely stunned when I climbed out of the pool and realized that I had just covered 1.5 miles in the water. I turned to my lane-mates and told them that I never would have persevered if it were not for their presence and encouragement. They admitted to feeling the same way, and our little swimming sisterhood was born.

Now, if I could only figure out how to get myself on the bicycle a little more, I’d feel much better about this latest adventure.

Doin' The Limbo

2009-01-26T21:21:00.002-05:00

Been quiet around here, huh?

Did you ever find yourself in limbo, dancing in that odd space in between life changing events? One moment ends and then a blank screen pops up with a little spinning hour glass. You know that a new screen will appear eventually, but it's impossible to tell how long the hour glass will keep spinning. So you wait, staring intently...barely breathing.

My new screen appeared today. I can now move on to the next steps. I can now breathe again. I can end this dance with flourish and grab my next partner as the music changes.

I completed my degree to become a physical therapist assistant. I secured a job in an orthopedic/sports medicine out-patient physical therapy clinic. I'm (mostly) prepared for my license examination. I started my training for my first half-Ironman. I joined a swim class and swam farther than ever before in the very first class. I'm shopping for wet suits and snow shoes.

As my life finds it's new routine, I hope to be here more often. I hope you can join me!

Long Awaited Review

2008-12-07T15:07:00.004-05:00

In my previous post, I mentioned that I was testing out a new watch, tech4o's Women's Accelerator Trail Runner. For more details on the watch, and to view various models, go to tech40.

After calibrating the watch at the local track, I was unable to immediately test it out because I needed to consult the instructions on exactly how to reset the watch with the new calibration information.

At this point in my testing of the product, I was a little less than impressed. Not only are the instructions on the watch published in a 8-10 pt font which requires both reading glasses and a well-lit area when consulting them, but I found the instructions cumbersome to navigate through. In their effort to be helpful with a schematic drawing of how to navigate through the different screens, it only made things more confusing for me. However, in their defense, I hate following written instructions and I usually just try to intuitively press buttons until I reach the screen I need. I wasn’t able to easily follow their set-up which led to my frustration, and required me to use the instructions. It became a vicious circle.

Once I finally got through all the set-up, I was able to test it out on a measured greenway near my house. I was pleased to see that at the half-mile mark the watch read .492 miles. Most of the distance monitors – GPS and otherwise – have some margin of error and this watch fell within the 95-97% accuracy similar to the others.

The pedometer/mileage display screen was difficult for me to read, especially while I was actually still running. I had to stop and use the backlight in order to read the numbers. The buttons are on the small side, but I’ve been spoiled with the big display and big buttons on both the Nike and Garmin gadgets which I regularly use.

Again, I went back to the instructions to see if there was a way to switch the display so I could set it to display 'miles' rather than 'steps' as the primary display. I wasn't able to find a way to do it, but then again, I wasn't thrilled with having to read through the instructions again, so I might have missed it. Since the watch is targeted to 'runners', I am baffled as to why the default setting isn't set to miles in the first place. It does display the mileage, but it's the secondary display at the top of the screen, which means that it's very small. Not a watch for those of us with complicated vision issues.

I'm not sure I see the advantage to having this watch, especially with the other products out there that are in a similar price range. Could this be a useful product for a new runner? I suppose. But I'm not sure this would be my first choice. It's a sleek looking watch and I appreciated the opportunity to test it out, but I suspect I will only use it as a time piece and possibly as a stop watch. I'll stick to my Garmin or my Nike for distance monitoring.

More Gadgets and Gears

2008-10-28T18:05:00.006-04:00

Being a celebrity has it's perks. Over the past few years I've had the pleasure and opportunity to test out various products and post about them here. Fortune has smiled upon me once again, and thanks to tech4O, I am a recent recipient of a new running watch.

Specifically, this one:
This watch - the Women's Accelerator Trail Runner - is similar to some of the other non-GPS products out there - this one works like a high-tech pedometer except without a foot pod. It will be interesting for me to compare this watch to my now-discontinued Nike SDM which works on similar technology and requires a foot pod.

I was able to use it right out of the box, with the time and date having been pre-programmed in for me. I wore it on one run so far, and it was comfortable enough that I didn't even notice that I had it on. Compared to the Garmin, it felt like a feather on my wrist. Plus, it's attractive enough to wear out in public, and doesn't completely engulf my very tiny wrist.

Unfortunately, I am unable to comment on it's performance at this time. The mileage was off considerably, by at least .50 miles. Upon further inspection of the rather detailed instructions for the watch, I learned that I might need to calibrate it to insure better monitoring of distances. Looks like a trip to the local track will need to be planned this weekend.

Stay tuned for my next adventure with this latest gadget!

Back to the Beginning

2008-10-12T20:30:00.003-04:00

This past week has been filled with experiences that have brought me back to my humble beginnings.

As some of you have heard, I have signed up for a half Ironman distance race in June 2009. For the uninitiated, that means a 1.2 mile swim, then 56 miles on the bike, followed by 13.1 miles of running. Registering for this race was a lot like signing up for my first marathon: it's something I know I can do, but it will require hard work, focus, a big learning curve and a little bit of crazy. (Oh, and a wet suit - anyone got one I can borrow?)

Yesterday, I ran the Hartford Half Marathon. I haven't run this race, or even a half-marathon technically, since I started this crazy running addiction in 2003. The whole day was a little surreal for me - it felt strange to head to the race alone without my race crew, and to not run the full marathon. It was odd to be done so early in the day, and see so many people lining up for food and massages.

It felt odd to run the race alone, to have perfect weather, and to find myself smiling so much. Within the first mile of the race I heard one of April-Anne's favorite song, just after I had parted ways with another wonderful friend who was running the marathon. Later, I thought of Michelle when I passed by the Parrothead's rest stop, and of course, I thought of jeff whenever I high-fived someone. I got a little weepy when I read the back of one woman's shirt that said "Running with my mom" when I realized that she was running in memory of her mom. And I nearly jumped out of my skin when my friend Fran screamed my name and ran out into the road to boost my spirits.

I savored every step of that race - the ones that felt good and the ones that didn't - because these were my roots, this was where it all started, and I realized that running still has me captive.

To complete the weekend, I engaged in some active recovery and further root re-building by climbing on to my very neglected mountain bike to cover 20-miles on the local rail trail. As the autumn leaves swirled down and around, I smiled, knowing that I had reconnected to that part of me that has been buried too long under stress.

New beginnings from old roots; I'm ready.

Summer Moments, Remembered

2008-08-29T21:03:00.000-04:00

As my summer wraps up, there are a few moments I want to savor, to hold on to, to keep in my back pocket for those cold days ahead. I thought I'd share a few with you here:

A sunny, summer Sunday morning, I pass by a corn field and the golden corn silks glisten in the light, like rows of little blonde-headed fairies.
Further down the same road, I pass my favorite little farm and the two cows are pressed against the stone wall, watching me as I pass. I pause to say 'hello' and we stand silently staring at each other. A week later, I am formally introduced to the cows - Harold and Kumar, with Spot the calf. They are the highlight of the organized bike ride in which I participate - not to mention to delicious molasses 'energy bars' that their owners share with the riders.
Each day as I run past the storm grates in the road, I hear the occassional 'sploosh' of a frog, as it dives for cover from my imposing shadow.
Running down the paved greenway, I spot a cat coming towards me. Quickly, off to the side, there's a flurry of activity as a family of turkeys scurry down the sloped side of the path. The cats curses my loud feet, and bounds away.
Mornings greet me with darkness. My headlamp catches some movement off to the side of the road. 'Oh, a cat!' Not quite - it has black and white fur, but it's white striped back and bushy tale straight up in the air suggest that it's not a cuddly feline at all, and not happy to see me. I move quickly past, waiting to exhale.
I sit in the warm sunshine on the damp grass and sip my all-time favorite cup of beer of the summer - the free beer post-race at the New Haven 20k. I swap stories and smiles with my running friends Bill, Missy and Jon and congratulate myself on meeting my simple goal of beating last year's time. (Jon wrote a great race report.)
After three flat tires and 102 miles on my bike, I finish the ride under 6:00 hours with tired legs, salty skin and my cycling 'family' at my side.

This will be my second fall season without a marathon on the schedule, and based on my newly changed 'career,' it was a good decision. I'll keep the miles up and may set my sights on a spring race instead. Or maybe something else entirely (she says mysteriously). Hope you all have warm summer memories to hold on to during the cold winter months!

Build a House that Lasts a Lifetime

2008-08-29T21:00:00.001-04:00

Back in January, I received a wonderful email from a woman named Susan. She was writing to tell me that she had just started running and while looking for inspiration she had come across my blog. She made a comment in the email about wondering if she was "built" for the whole running thing.

In my response to her, I made the analogy that building a running life is just like building a house. We need to lay a good strong foundation, pick a design that works for for each of us individually, and make the framework solid. Then we can mix and match to suit our styles - change the wall color, change the flooring - whatever we want. Sometimes things break during the building process, and that's ok...because as long as we tend to the leak before the roof caves in, we can still keep building. If we don't tend to the leak, we may have to postpone the project longer than we wanted to or worse, start rebuilding from the ground up.

I have recently found myself strengthening my weakened foundation.

Over the past year, it was all I could do to maintain the rough framework of my running 'house.' At the end of May, I began to thicken the layers, slowly adding pieces back on. Twelve weeks in to the process, and I'm beginning to resemble the runner I used to know. I've still got lots of construction ahead of me, but I'm ready to roll up my sleeves and swing the hammer a little harder.

I hope you can take your time building *your* house and make your love affair with running last a lifetime. Be inspired by other 'home owners' - but don't get caught in the trap of comparing yourself to others. You do what you can do, do what's right for your 'home' and the rest will fall in to place.

Feelin' Some Title Nine Love

2008-08-21T22:37:00.003-04:00

Not sure exactly how Title Nine found me, but I have my suspicions. Even if I'm wrong about how they stumbled across my blog, I am flattered nonetheless. They dug deep, using the 'Way Back' machine to uncover one my first posts, and have featured it on their 'Best of the Blogs' Timeout with T9 page.

It's interesting for me to read that post now, knowing that my journey has taken me so far (literally and figuratively) since I typed those words. I hope you can still find a nugget or two in there to entertain or inspire you.

The flashback post is even more poignant to me at this moment, as I almost feel like I am back at the beginning again. I'm trying to figure out what I want to tackle next, both in my athletic life and in my personal life, while also trying to determine exactly HOW to do all the things I want to do as I make the next leap of faith.

For now, I am just moving forward, one step, stroke or revolution at a time. Hope you are doing the same!

Running Dismount in Cape Cod

2008-08-07T14:52:00.000-04:00

We were fortunate enough to be invited along on a family trip to Cape Cod in early July. The free lodging aside, we were excited about reconnecting with family, relaxing on the beach, and celebrating our 11-year wedding anniversary.

The in-laws rented the perfect house situated 1.25 miles away from the Bay and 3.50 miles away from the Atlantic. As an added bonus, the Cape Cod Rail Trail was accessible a half mile from the house.

I convinced Hubby to borrow my stepfather's bike and join me for a ride on the flat, paved trail. He hadn't been on a bike since he supported me during the Hartford Marathon in 2006 but he was willing to indulge me.

We set off from Orleans, heading towards Wellfleet. The ride itself was smooth and mostly uneventful, save for some saddle sores developing on Hubby's posterior. The racing saddle he was trying to sit on, coupled with the thin foam chamois in his cycling shorts did not lend themselves to a cushy ride.

He was in quite a bit of pain at the end of the 20-mile ride, and seemed anxious to get off the bike. So anxious, in fact, that he attempted a 'running dismount' wherein the rider slows to a gentle coast, swings one leg over the bike and then in one deft motion, unclips the other foot and begins to run with the bike.

Having been trained to be a bicycle cop, Hubby was confident that he could still manage such a maneuver, even after almost 8 years of NOT being a bicycle cop. You can predict where this is headed...graceful, he was not. But dang it, it was funny as hell.

Other than his pride, his thigh and his thumb, he survived intact. He soothed his wounds with a few of these, and politely informed me that I would be riding alone the following day.

Luck of the Irish – A Race Report!

2008-08-03T21:37:00.003-04:00

Luck of the Irish – A Race Report!

My favorite Florida runner is in Rhode Island for his annual vacation, and managed to talk me in to running the John J. Kelley 11.6 mile race in New London. By “talk me into” the race I mean that he mentioned he was considering running it to which I replied that I’d happily meet him there. Next thing I know, we’re agreeing on a meeting time, and I’m committed to running a race that I know is notorious for being a hot, humid one. But it starts and ends at the beach, and David would be there so how could I resist?

We found each other easily and fell into conversation like old, familiar friends. David is one of those people who can instantly put me at ease with his laid-back manner and friendly smile. For every question we asked each other, the conversation moved off into a million tangents, leaving some few initial conversations incomplete as we got more and more distracted. I could have talked to him for hours.

We went about our race-readiness routines and did our warm up. The warm-up helped us realize just how warm it already was, and we made our wardrobe adjustments. We found some other runner friends of mine as we neared the start and the energy level started to pick up a few notches.

As I toed the line, it felt odd to not have any real race goals, strategies or aspirations in mind. I really had no idea what I wanted to accomplish or how I wanted to tackle the race. I haven’t raced in almost a year and my training is still less than stable. Rather than rest the day before the race, I went out for a 32 mile bike ride. Part of me thought it would be cool to just hang with David for the whole race but that Other part of me really wanted to gauge my fitness level.

By the end of the first mile, I was feeling pretty good so I pulled away from David as we moved up one of the few noticeable hills on the route. As I caught up to Beth, my friend and former arch-nemesis, I settled comfortably into her pace and thought ‘Yeah, I can do this pace for the whole race’. When I looked down at my watch and realized we were doing 8:10’s, I was shocked but decided ‘What the heck? Let’s see what happens!’

A mile or two later, my friend started to fade in the heat, just a little. I stayed fairly consistent, and got a little nervous when I read the timer call out ‘41 minutes’ at the 5 mile mark. The heat and humidity were beginning to make themselves known and I started to doubt my ability to keep this up for another 6.6 miles. Then I thought ‘Well, maybe I’ll finally get to experience ‘blowing up’ at a race.’

Before I even hit the hill at mile 8, I felt my body begin to protest. The nagging side stitch I’d had from the start was really making itself known, and my quads started to feel heavy and tired. We were running along a main route out in full sun, dodging cars and dealing with sidewalks and curbs. I choked down a warm Gu, hoping for some energy. I walked a few times, trying to find relief and digging deep for some motivation. Mile 8 saw my slowest mile at 9:25 and my heart rate maxed at 187 beats per minute. I was suffering and it was my own fault. For a moment, I considered walking until David caught up with me and then finishing the race with him…but my curiosity got the best of me and I had to see what would happen next if I pushed forward.

I got the pace back up a little and just focused on finishing. I made small talk with other runners, walked through the water stops and ran through all the hoses. I kept dreaming of the cold ocean swirling against my legs. My stomach wouldn’t allow me to think of anything other than cold water to drink. All other foods and drinks were banned for the time being.

Finally the finish was in sight, and I gave the most pathetic finishing kick of my entire career. I got my fill of water, cheering for Beth, hobbled over to my car, changed shoes and made it back to the finish line in time to cheer for David. As we gathered our beach gear from the cars, David broke open the delicious bag of potato chips that he brought especially for me, knowing about my ‘chip’ addiction. The salty treat was just what I needed!

We wandered through the post-race area, then made our way down to the beach to dip our toes in the water. I wasn’t brave enough to go all the way in, as it felt too cold to me, but David didn’t hold back. I made sure to get my legs in far enough so my quad muscles could benefit from the cold water. When Beth found us, I went back out into the water with her, and thought that a whole-body dip might help to get rid of some of the stinkiness of my post-race clothes. It felt wonderful, once the initial shock turned to numbness.

Back on the towels, we relaxed in the fading sunshine, as the storm clouds began rolling in. As an added surprise to the day, Jank’s wife tracked us down and brightened us up even more with her smile. We’d heard that she might be there, so we loved the celebrity sighting.

Reluctantly we began to part ways – David was first to leave, then Beth and I walked out to our cars together. As I got closer to my car, I could see David just pulling out of the parking lot. When I got to my driver side door, he had attached the bag of chips there for me to enjoy on the ride home. I smiled and thought ‘What a great day!’

The story should end here. But it doesn’t.

As I fished my car key fob out of my pocket – the same key fob that I had in the pocket of my running shorts during the race…the shorts that I had worn out into the water…as I pressed the button to open the door - and watched as nothing happened, I felt my stomach sink. I had gotten the fob wet. It was useless. I couldn’t get into the car without setting off the alarm.

Now, normally there would be easy solutions to this predicament…but my car has never made things easy for me. See, my driver side door lock is broken, and the key does not work in the lock. Therefore, the door is always unlocked, even when the alarm is on. In order to disarm the alarm if the fob doesn’t work, you need to be able to lock-unlock the driver side door. If you can’t disarm the alarm, the car won’t start. To sum up: there was no way for me to drive my car, even though I had a key and the car was unlocked.

I spent the next 20 minutes taking the key fob apart, drying it out and trying it over and over. I just had to get the alarm to disarm ONCE. I didn’t want to open the door and set off my alarm until I had to, so I wandered around trying to find out if there was a dealership in the area (yes, but the service department would be closed). I borrowed a cell phone and tracked down a phone book to try to contact a dealer directly but then couldn’t get through. Brick walls at every turn.

I had a mini-meltdown in the middle of the snack bar and left my husband a tearful message.

Finally, I pulled myself together, went back to my car, warned the people near me that the alarm was about to go off and opened the door in order to retrieve my cell phone from the car. The people near me were so sympathetic and everyone wanted to help but no one quite knew what to do. One gentleman, Dennis from SNERRO (the race timing company), offered to drive me home…which was sorta on his way home but not really. As I tried to turn down his offer, he said with a shrug and a smile: ‘I don’t have anything else to do today!’

I called AAA to arrange for a tow and then Dennis sat and waited with me. The storm clouds were thick and dark overhead, the promised storms were imminent. Every once in a while, I would press on the key fob, hoping for it to work just that one time. Dennis went to get his car, and I called my husband to give him an update. We’d been waiting about 40 minutes so it shouldn’t be long before AAA got there. I commented once again to my husband that I just need the stupid thing to work ONE TIME.

Dennis came back with his car just as the sky started to spit out some sprinkles of rain. As I sat on the ground contemplating the situation, I absent mindedly pressed the key fob for the millionth time. The lights flashed on my car. I looked up at Dennis in total disbelief…’DID YOU SEE THAT?!’ I jumped up and pulled open the car door, bracing myself for the alarm…but was greeted by blessed silence.

It worked! I could leave!! I gave Dennis a big hug and thanked him for being so wonderful. Dennis refused to leave until I started the car and he was reassured that it really worked. Then he said he didn’t want to leave until he saw me drive out of the parking lot. I agreed to follow him out, as I wasn’t familiar with the area and could use a hand getting back to the major route.

Needless to say, I called AAA to cancel my order and then promised myself to get the door lock fixed once and for all. I haven’t touched the key fob since the ONE TIME and will likely not try it again until the door lock works. Lesson learned.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, the skies opened up, and the thunder and lightening commenced. Perfect timing…it was still a great day, now it had an added adventure to it.

Obsess Much?

2008-07-29T11:52:00.003-04:00

Leave it to me to create a mountain out of a Mouse hill.

Seemed like a simple plan: Run the Disney marathon, get in the car, drive to Tampa, get on a cruise ship. Then I started to actually think about the logistics. Try to stay with me here:

We arrive in Tampa, Florida on Friday for the Sunday race. We rent a car in Tampa and drive to Orlando (about an hour and a half away). Arriving on Friday allows for time for packet pickup, expo shopping and more importantly, rest and relaxation.

We stay 'on-property' at Disney in order for me to be able to take the shuttle bus to the start line at the very early hour of 3:30-4:00 a.m. for the 6:00 a.m. start time. This means the Hubby can sleep in a little bit, but will have to pack the car, check out of the hotel and get himself over to the parking lot near the finish line, preferably around 7:30-8:00 a.m. He may or may not be able to catch a glimpse of me on the course (least of my worries, really).

With luck (and good training!) I can cross the finish line around 10:00-10:15 a.m. I make my way through the finishers chute - medal, photos, water and find the Hubby. We walk (I hobble) to the car, climb in and head for Tampa. Goal time of departure from Epcot: 11:00 a.m.

We return the rental car and take a taxi/shuttle to the cruise ship terminal. Hopefully, we reach the ship by 1:30 p.m. and we don't get stuck in a crummy cabin because all the good ones were already assigned.

This whole plan is contingent on everything running (pun intended) smoothly. No long race start delays, no injuries, no traffic, etc.

I'm crazy. I know it. You can tell me. Actually, I need to hear that this is a crazy idea. As much as I love a challenge, there's too much money riding on this one if it gets messed up.

Option B:

Arrive in Tampa on Saturday and get on the cruise ship on Sunday (I like to plan to leave a day early in case of weather issues that delay flights). Wait until 2010 and do the Goofy Challenge at Disney with a plan to enjoy the parks for a day or so afterwards.

Really, let me know what you think. This has been completely consuming me and I need to make a decision, make the plans and be done with it.

Thanks!

The Internet Just Got Smaller

2008-07-21T21:28:00.005-04:00

While I realize that I will never reach the 'end of the Internet,' I had a very surreal blog-world experience late last week that reminded me of it's potential to be a small place. The story has already been told by 21st Century Mom, so rather than repeat it here, I'll just let you go read about it over there. (And then tell her how amazing she is for having just done her first Half-Ironman at Vineman this weekend.)

I promise you, the story is jaw-dropping freaky...well, at least it was to me, momentarily. Oh, and a note to my Dad: when you read her story, send me an email and for a small price, I will reveal her true identity.

In other related small-world news...I am entertaining the idea of running the Disney Marathon this year, and then boarding a cruise ship out of Tampa immediately after crossing the finish line. I've already sent out an inquiry to my favorite Florida runner, and I'm open to hearing from others if you have advice to share. I have a very small window of opportunity (and budget) for a vacation in January and I'm hoping to start it with a marathon and end it with a tan and five extra pounds on my frame. Disney is almost full, and air fare is only getting higher so I need to make decision soon! (Note: Houston is sold out, and California doesn't have any marathons in early January. Grrr.)

Because of Running: Part Two

2008-07-16T14:47:00.004-04:00

Part two in a series on how running has made an impact on my life.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I rediscovered running in January 2003 and ran my first (and technically, only) half marathon in October of that same year. I experienced a few pings and pangs, plus a niggle here or there but nothing that stopped me from pushing forward towards my first marathon the following October. During training, I managed to irritate my iliotibial band (ITB) which led to the donning of a knee brace for my first distance event (no, it didn't really help to wear one). Shortly after the race, I needed to get a cortisone shot into my toe to ease the pain from overuse. Somehow, I got lucky and the injuries dissipated. However, by the time marathon #2 was completed in October of 2005, the ITB on the opposite leg flared up and wasn't letting up.

I knew my luck could only carry me so far, so I sought medical advice and was referred to physical therapy to rehab my ITB. At some point during my seven weeks of rehab, I remarked to my therapist that I thought he had a pretty cool job. Not like it was the first time I had been exposed to PT - having been a patient years before for a foot surgery and having had college roommates and friends who were studying physical therapy. But this was the first time that I was really paying attention.

My therapist was able to work with me to help me get back to running, back to the activity that defines me as a person and makes me feel 'whole.' He taught me which muscles to stretch, how to properly stretch them and even explained why it was important. He stretched the muscles for me; he worked out the adhesions that had formed in the ITB, relieving the pain and freeing it up so it could move the way it was intended to move. He showed me how to strengthen my leg muscles, and then pushed me harder than I could ever have pushed myself.

I got back on the roads, stronger than ever and was able to lay the foundation that eventually led to my Boston Qualifying time, and ultimately, the Boston Marathon. I was able to realize that dream because someone knew how to get me past the basic level of 'functioning' and took the time to make sure my rehab was successful.

I knew that I wanted that job - it was a perfect fit. I also knew that I didn't have the time or money to get through a traditional PT program (which is now at least a 5-year, full-time program). But Running had a plan in mind for me already. When I told my therapist how cool his job was, he explained to me that he wasn't a PT, but rather a PTA, a physical therapist assistant. The 2-year, part-time program sounded much more reasonable and achievable. My job scope will have some limitations as compared to being a PT, but I will have the ability to treat patients. That's what matters most to me - being able to treat patients, improve their functioning and return them to the activities that matter most to them. In September, I start my final semester, doing two 'clinical affiliations' full-time, until the end of December. Then, I start the next leg of the journey and see where it takes me.

Because of running, I will be proud to tell people what I do for a living.

Is that your cell phone in your pocket or....?

2008-06-30T21:40:00.001-04:00

Training has been heating up over here at Running Chick headquarters. The last few weeks have seen a gradual increase in running miles to 30+ miles a week, with 5 days of running. Plus, I'm back on the bike two days a week, with one shorter ride of 25-30 miles during the week and then a longer ride on Saturday mornings, usually around 50-60 miles. Then, there's two days of yoga and a day of swimming.

This has been quite a change compared to the previous 'maintain the sanity' level of running 4 days/week for 24-25 miles (and nothing else) which had become the 'norm' for the past 9 months.

The results? Yup. I'm exhausted. But in a good way. Not in a stressed-out-school-makes-my-brain-hurt-and-there's-too-much-too-do way. Each week, it gets a little easier and muscles are reappearing where I love seeing them. I'm getting stronger.

However, a curious thing did happen on my 'long' run last weekend. As I rounded the corner to attack the last big hill of the day, I felt something vibrating against my waist. At first, I thought it was my cell phone which was tucked inside the pocket on my Fuel Belt. Nope...that wasn't it. Besides, who would call me at 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning?

Then it happened again. Only louder this time, and more forceful. What the heck is going on? Suddenly, it occurs to me....it's my stomach, growling and grumbling like the hungry beast it has become in the transition period to more intense training. My stomach continued to be persistent about being heard and felt, but having already eaten my one Gu, and almost out of Accelerade, there was nothing to do except dream about the breakfast I'd whip up once I got back home.

What's The Worst That Can Happen?

2008-06-23T16:00:00.007-04:00

In case you've been wondering, I have been running. And biking. And there's even been a little bit of swimming and some yoga. While I still haven't selected any real 'goals' yet, I felt the need to jump back in to training as if my life depends on it. In many ways, it does.

I crave the routine and focus that come with training. Formulating a plan, setting up a schedule, tracking the data - all these tasks bring me a sense of calm, a sense of order and control. After placing my life on "hold" for the better part of the year, it's a relief to be grinding up hills, planning 400 meter intervals and falling asleep too soon after dinner.

The first few weeks back are always the hardest - mentally and physically. The lazy relaxed pace is now reserved for 'easy' days as I struggle to get the legs to turn over faster. That's been a shock to the system - shifting gears from a constant slow and steady pace, to something that requires work, concentration and some amount of pain.

Reflecting on my goal-less decision to inflict pain on myself, I realized that if I didn't turn up the heat, I'd just continue to tread water, content to get lost in the zen-like steadiness I'd already established. Then last weekend, I decided to push outside the comfort zone a bit, and bravely opted to ride the B-ride with my cycling club (15-17 mph average pace). I knew I wasn't quite ready, but I also knew that if I didn't just jump in head first, that I would continue to find reasons to leave the training wheels on.

At about 50 miles in to the 61-mile ride, I realized that I had taken on a bit more than I should have - eyes bigger than my stomach, so to speak. I was tired, over-heated and cranky. My legs were sore - my quads were toasted. I was mortified that the group had to wait for me on more than one occasion. I desperately tried to find a shorter route home, so I could ride alone in my suffering. But they weren't having any of my whining, and one of the riders insisted that he would stay with me for the rest of the ride, no matter what.

I was on the verge of tears. I whined a bit more about how I had still had to ride home from the ride start/finish point. An offer was made: 'Once we get back, you can throw your bike in my truck and I'll drop you off at home.' That was all it took. I responded: 'Nah. I'm a tough guy. I'll pedal the 3-miles home at 10 mph before I'll accept a ride.' Happily, my pace didn't need to be quite that tame, and I made it home in one piece with *most* of my dignity still in tact.

As I was cruising bloglines a few days later, I came across a post that Little Miss Runner Pants wrote, which featured some (many) inspirational words via Gym Jones. This rings so true for me, I had to share it:

"You have to be willing to bite off more than you can chew, to overdose, and to fail. If you won't risk the answer you won't ask the question. If you lack the will to ask then consciousness will not unite with muscle and bone. I criticize such a lack of will (especially in myself) and ask, “What's the worst that can happen?” The fearful part of me replies, “I may fall short of my expectations. I may not be who I pretend to others. My perception of self may be proven wrong, very wrong.” The confident part of me says, “So what ... only after breaking myself apart may rebuilding begin.” So go ahead, break stuff. Break yourself on the once-hard edges of yourself. And recycle the debris into the foundation of your future."

Even though I was a bit broken by the time I got home, I am rebuilding and ready to try some more, try harder and will gladly suffer in the process.

Double Tagged!

2008-06-13T15:33:00.012-04:00

I don't do these very often, but both runner-bloggers were kind enough to tell me that I had been tagged, so I thought I'd give it a shot.

Tag #1

Morgan tagged me with Five Questions:

1. How would I describe my running 10 years ago?

A casual fling. Running and I would hang out together on the treadmill once in awhile, but I spent more time with Mr. Free-Weights and Mr. Elliptical in the gym. On a few occasions, Running and I even went outside together, but at that time I lived in Tucson, AZ and did not enjoy running in the heat. (I still don't.)

2. What is your best and worst race experience?

Every race is the worst race when I'm in the middle of running it. Then every race is the best race once I've crossed the finish line.

All my races have happened without incident, except for the infamous "Did Not Start (DNS) due to The Ick" at the San Diego Marathon in 2006. Aside from that, I have enjoyed every race experience in some way. Each one is unique and memorable. (Yes, I'm one of those annoying people who can find something positive in every situation.)

3. Why do you run?

As stated in my first blog post in April 2004, I run because I can.

4. What is the best or worst piece of advice you've been given about running?

Best advice: Pace yourself. Start slow then build speed and feel like a Rock Star. (And invest in good shoes!)

Worst advice: None that I recall. Although, I have learned that it's necessary to experiment and then pick which techniques/methods work specifically for you. There is no standard training formula for running that fits every single runner.

5. Tell us something surprising about yourself that not many people would know.

Secretly, I hate running.

Just kidding.

I'm such an "open book" it's tough to come up with something surprising, or that only a few people would know. How about this: I got engaged after only 6 weeks, and will be celebrating 11 years of marriage (to the same man) in July.

Tag #2

Jeff (one of many "jeffs"...not to be mistaken for the amazing-hip-lower-case jeff) tagged me with the seemingly simple, yet mind bending task of coming up with a "6 Word Memoir."

Hhmmm. Sum up my whole life and personality in six words? Feh. I can't do anything with less than 3 paragraphs! Here's my shot at it:

Seeker of challenges, strength, positive energy

That hurt my brain.

Feel free to tag yourself for either/or and play along. Let us know in the comments!

Because of Running

2008-06-12T20:43:00.001-04:00

First in a series of posts about the impact that running has had on my life.

In January 2003, I (re)discovered my passion for running. Fifteen months later, I craved more information, more connections with other people who shared my passion. Turning to the Internet, I stumbled across a small number of running blogs. Quickly, the few grew into many and I joined the fray. In doing so, I formed cyber-friendships with runners from all over the country. Comments often led to email exchanges and friendships blossomed. The friendships varied from casual to practically-siblings.

One particular friendship even rewarded me with a coach. jeff, aka the amazing hip, coached me through my Boston qualifying marathon, and then not only coached me to my PR-setting Boston debut, but he also ran each step of the epic-weather marathon with me.

He’s been more than a coach, and more than an acquaintance. We joke about being BFFs (best friends forever) but honestly, that’s about as accurate a description as I can create. He’s like the brother I always wanted but never had – perfectly filling that role by being the first person to give me a nickname that stuck (Flipperhead. Or just Flipper.) We’ve cheered each other on through countless races "virtually" from across the country as well as in person. We've celebrated each other's successes and consoled each other during darker moments. We have visited each other's house, and met each other's tolerant, understanding, wonderful spouses. We even have annoying 'inside' jokes.

While I could spend hours listing off all the many incredible qualities that make up my BFF (not to be confused with BTT - http://www.breakingthetape.com/) the one thing that stands out time and time again is his incredibly generous spirit. It's impossible to count the number of times he has gone out of his way to help me, as well as others. Rarely have I heard him say "No, I can't do that." Usually, he's one step ahead, anticipating where he might be able to offer some assistance, and then doing the right thing.

Over the past two years, he has listening to my endless stream of whining and complaining about school, marathon training, school, my expanding backside, school and my ever increasing stress level. He's listened patiently. He's offered advice, support and most importantly, he's made me find a reason to smile. As if he hadn't done enough for me in the past, a few weeks ago he completely out did himself by sending me this:

a Garmin-licious gift to congratulate me for surviving three semesters of intense coursework.

Seriously. He sent that to me. I know. My jaw dropped too. They don't call him the amazing hip for nothing.

Because of running, I have a friend like jeff in my life.