Official Race Recap: Flower City Half Marathon Edition

Yesterday, I ran a half marathon. For those of you who don't know, that's 13.1 miles. (I think this course was actually 13.2.) Though keenly aware of how much I'd like to improve my time, I am proud of my accomplishment. Nine months ago, I would have laughed out loud if someone had suggested I even attempt it.

Before - 7:25 a.m.

The race experience started yesterday (April 28, 2013) at 5 a.m. Yes, 5 a.m. Rebecca* and I had to drive over an hour and, because of a mix-up at packet pick-up earlier in the week, Rebecca still needed to get her race bib. So, by the time I got a quick shower, dressed, and double-checked my gear, it was about 5:30 and we beat feet. Mind you, this departure was nearly 15 minutes later than we'd left the day before to get to Rebecca's duathlon.

Fortunately, race nerves make one alert, even at ridiculous hours of the morning, so we had a good hour of chatting along the way. As we got closer to Rochester, it began to feel like we were cutting it a bit close. We weren't sure of all the directions. We made the correct turns but I was getting more stressed.

We, finally, arrived, found a parking lot about 200 feet from the race start/finish, I got my gear in order, and we rushed over to packet pick up with about 15 minutes to start time. Though Rebecca had called ahead to make sure her bib was available, no one knew where she could get it. The race volunteers and staff only kept us waiting a few tense moments before deciding to assign her a new bib. I was so grateful for their quick decision-making!

Once that was squared away, we found the ladies room. According to the women behind us, the one we found had the shortest line. I was just grateful it wasn't a port-a-john. After barely 3 minutes, we were done with that necessity and headed toward the start.

Rebecca led the way to the back of the pack. I was expecting tears at the end of this race but, as we waited, I almost started bawling before we even began. Preferring not to cry in front of others, I was glad I held it together. The race bib situation meant very little lingering, so I didn't have to fight back tears for long.

The race had a field of only about 2400, so we were over the line in less than a minute, despite starting in the back of the pack. For the first six miles, I was holding steady with the 2:30 pace group. They would catch me on my walk breaks but Rebecca and I would pass every time we started running again. The first six miles were mostly flat...

When we began, the temperature was around 55 degrees and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Sounds great, right? I'd say the same thing if I wasn't going to be running for close to three hours and the temperature wasn't going to hit 72 by the time we were finished. You see, 40s and 50s are my running happy place. Much higher and I'm dead tired, demoralized, and so parched that I begin to worry I'll get hyponatremia from trying to slake my thirst.

Sometime during mile 4, I think, I asked Rebecca, "Why am I doing this?" She said a bunch of true and encouraging things but, mostly, with two thirds of the race still ahead, like a child who's learning to ride without training wheels, I needed someone to reassure me that everything was going to be alright, that the pain and fear would end and I'd be happy with the result.

As we approached the biggest hill in the race, Rebecca asked how I was feeling. She'd already been "coaching" me but this was the let's-evaluate-our-plan conversation. I'd been pushing too hard but didn't want to whine, so just said I was really tired and didn't know if I could keep my current pace. She suggested we walk the entire hill. (I think) I said something fairly nonchalant like, "Oh, that sounds like a good idea." Silently, I was rejoicing in the depths of my soul. Walk the hill. YES! In our race plan conversation, I'd said I didn't want to deviate from my run/walk intervals but, ultimately, I wanted to enjoy the experience so that the thought of doing it again wouldn't make me want to vomit.

We walked up the hill. The 2:30 pace group was long gone. In my head, I was bargaining - maybe we can just walk up over this little rise, too. My mind stubbornly refused to let my legs push harder. Finally, I said, "At the end of my next scheduled walk break, let's start running again." I surprised myself by saying that because what I really wanted to say was, "Let's walk the rest of the way; It's such a nice day for a walk!"

Over the second half of the course, I walked a lot more than I would have liked and probably a little more than I needed. Since it was my first half marathon, I'm giving myself a little bit of a pass for just getting through it without stopping or falling over.

The course goes through a lot of beautiful neighborhoods and a good number of people stood along the course cheering on runners as they passed. The children were especially fun - shaking plastic jugs full of coins, shouting, "Shake your moneymaker!" - a baby dinosaur sleeping on his dad's shoulder - a little boy offering high fives near the end. Folks in ape costumes welcomed us into the cemetery. Women in period costume lined the streets of the Susan B. Anthony historical neighborhood. Several people handed out beer around mile 11 and a small brass band, playing continuously for at least 2.5 hours, greeted us with jubilant tunes at one of the last curves in the course.

During mile 11, I struck a bargain with Rebecca: "If we can walk to the mile 12 marker, I'll do everything I can to not stop running until the end." Relief flooded my body when she agreed. Though I knew she couldn't/wouldn't force me to do anything, I also knew that everything Rebecca said or did was an effort to help me not disappoint myself.

So, when the sign came into sight, Rebecca said, "Remember that post you wrote about high school you running the mile?... [moving past the mile marker] Kick that girl's ass." We started running - what most people would call jogging but felt to me like sprinting after already covering 12 miles. People were really spread out, but we started passing a few, including one guy who looked fit as a fiddle. As we passed people, Rebecca said, "If you keep going, that guy in the white shirt/the skinny girl in the pink shirt/etc. aren't going to beat you." Her words didn't make me feel superior but they helped me keep going even when my legs felt like lead, my feet started to go numb, and I couldn't think about anything further than one step ahead of me.

When we were in sight of the finish line, I said, "Rebecca, I just want to stop so badly." Of course, I didn't. I kept going. I ran from the 12-mile marker until the end of the race. One person, at the 13 mile marker, presumably trying to encourage, shouted, "NOW SPRINT!" I ignored him but Rebecca replied, "This IS sprinting." Her words make me laugh now.

I "ran" past the finish line, wobbled over to a volunteer to retrieve my medal, and immediately started searching for water. Blessedly, it was only a few feet from the finish. After a very quick chat with Rebecca's cousin and his girlfriend, who'd completed the race 1:10:00 and 55:00 earlier, and taking a race-ending selfie, we went to get some food. I don't think I've ever eaten such delectable pizza.

After - 10:15ish a.m.

Having run 12.2 hilly miles a week before, I had no doubt that I would be able to complete the race. However, without Rebecca, I don't know if I would have met my goal of finishing in less than 2:40:00. I might have let myself slide after that hill. Throughout the race, she walked the fine line between encouragement and kicking my rear. I didn't have to check my watch because she was there to keep me on track to meeting my goal. When I needed to say how much I wanted to quit, she was there to remind me that wasn't an option and of how far I'd already come, both in the race and in running. When I didn't want to eat, she reminded me that's exactly what my tired muscles wanted. Most of all, having her there meant that I got to cross that 13.1 mile finish line for the first time with one of my favorite people.

I beat my goal time. By 46 seconds. It doesn't sound like a lot but, believe me, it's better than missing it by even 1 second. At the beginning, I really thought I would completely bust my goal, with something around 2:30:00 but I'm satisfied with the effort I put forth. And, who knows, maybe my second will be faster (even though I'm running it in less than six days).

In this race, I learned that I can endure more pain than I think, that my mind is holding me back more than my body, that the right running partner is invaluable, and that, when you're done, no matter how hard or painful it was, it seems like it all went by in a wink.

“The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.” ― John Bingham


*Rebecca, I may have re-written some history here, particularly in making myself appear much tougher than I actually was. Please feel free to share your recollections or correct mine. :)

Boston

In the nine months I've been a runner, my experience of the running community has been one of overwhelming love, support, encouragement, and celebration.

Runners love what they do. They love seeing other people (even slow people who may need to lose 100 pounds) getting out there to do it, too.

People in this community have cheered me on as I triumphantly crossed a 5k finish line they could have reached twice in the time it took me to run it once.

I've read stories about runners, whose race was cancelled, using their time instead to take needed supplies to those affected by Hurricane Sandy.

And of a father who won a marathon while pushing his daughter in a stroller because he wanted to make great memories with her before he dies of brain cancer.

I've watched nonagenarians competing in the 100-meter dash with crowds cheering their every step.

And Rita Jeptoo run to her second Boston Marathon win.

These people know something important. They know that running changes people's lives. They know the power of finding something you love and passionately pursuing it through both triumph and pain.

Most of the people running in today's Boston Marathon had to work their tails off to even make it to the starting line. It's no small task to get the qualifying times for a chance to register. They toiled through months of grueling workouts (more or less happily) just for the possibility of making it to Boston. Today's race was to be the victory lap after all the sacrifice.

Now, for many, the finish line celebration has been cut short or didn't take place at all.

But, do you know what I've seen through all of this?

I've seen reports of runners continuing past the 26.2 grueling miles they'd already completed on their way to the hospital to donate blood.

I've read about a perfect stranger giving a runner a shoulder to cry on and money to get back to her hotel safely.

And, all over Facebook and Twitter, runners are rallying around the city of Boston and the marathoners as if they were family.

Because they are. I only married in recently but I can tell you this is one tightly knit clan. You can't knock runners down without expecting them to pick one another back up and continue on their path, even if through curtains of tears, knowing they are that much stronger for the experience.

A quote posted on Facebook sums up my feelings well: "I am a runner. I may not have qualified this year. I may have qualified and not run. I may have been injured and unable to go. I may never even be able to qualify. But I am a runner and my heart is in Boston today."

We're runners. We'll run to process this event. We'll honor the people killed and injured today by staying on our feet. And we'll keep moving down the road because that's what we do
  
"If you're trying to defeat the human spirit, marathoners are the wrong group to target." - Mighty Brighties

Protection

I've written before about the impact weight loss has had on my life, here. It's been and will continue to be an amazing and terrifying journey.

Fat is protective. Fat stores can be the difference between life and death in some situations (not terribly often in the US...). Women are encouraged to gain weight during pregnancy for the sake of their baby's development. A little extra padding can be a very good thing when winter rolls around.

Being fat is also a great excuse for lots of things.

No energy? Exercise is too difficult with the extra weight.

No dream job? Fat people are discriminated against and their competence doubted because people (even other fat people) are judgmental.

No boyfriend/husband? Men are too shallow to look past the extra pounds.

The list of things I silently blamed my fat for could go on and on. But, despite the things the weight "kept me from having," deep down, I think I loved it. The fat was a buffer between me and the world, a protective layer of convenient excuses.

It was almost exactly a year ago that I started a diet. Three months later, I did my first workout. I don't actually know how much weight I've lost over that time (Pffftt on scales!) but I know it's been significant (tight XXL shirts to loose M level of significant) and I've noticed another strange phenomenon.

Suddenly, I'm feeling things. A good run, an apt quote, a beautiful photo, great song lyrics, good or bad news from a friend impact me so much more deeply than they once did, bringing a smile to my face or tears to my eyes (sometimes both). Maybe it would be more accurate to say I feel much more comfortable expressing how these things make me feel. Just today, as I was driving home from my longest run yet and thinking about how I'll be running a half marathon WITH my lovely Rebecca in two weeks AND realizing that, barring crazy circumstances, I would complete it in a respectable time, I teared up... more than once! I have no doubt that my face will be wet with tears as I cross that finish line and I won't care who sees me.

At times, it is terrifying to realize that my crutch, the one I've carried with me for most of my life, is going away. (What will it mean if I don't get my dream job and a husband when I'm thinner?)  You know what, though? If you're not injured, it's a heck of a lot easier to walk without a crutch since you don't really need it in the first place.

I Couldn't Run This Fast in High School

Does anyone else remember the mile run we had to do every year for the President's physical fitness test? I forget how often we had to do it -twice a year, maybe - but I haven't forgotten how much I dreaded that day. It was torment.

There were always the athletic kids who would finish their four laps of the track in six or eight minutes and they barely looked like they were trying. Then there were the kids who pretended not to or really didn't care and, therefore, walked around the track at a leisurely pace.

Then there were a few kids like me. We wanted to do our best but didn't understand that our bodies were in no condition to sprint. So we would go out hard, at least hard for us, and be completely exhausted before the first lap was behind us. Discouraged by being lapped repeatedly and unable to see a good reason to keep trying, we would stop and walk with our heads down and our chests heaving, trying to ignore the fact that while we were still hauling our bodies around the track, our classmates were sitting around watching.

I think that my best mile time ever was 12 minutes. Despite the fact that eighty percent of my classmates finished well under that time, I was ecstatic. In fact, I even considered going out for track, thinking maybe this running thing could be fun. (Anyway, no one ever got cut from the track team even if she was never chosen to compete.) A few days distance from that run, and the soreness brought on by that single mile on the track, caused me to reconsider my dream of becoming an athlete. I stuck with being the smart kid - I was already good at that, hardly any effort required.

It took nearly fifteen more years before I tried again.

Over the past few months, I've huffed and puffed through many a mile that took more than 12 minutes for me to cover. But now... Now, I can run a single mile in less than ten minutes. I can run 9 at a time, covering each mile in about 11 minutes and 30 seconds. I've run as many as 10.5 miles at one go. And, in about three weeks, I'll be covering 13.1 and getting a medal for doing it.

High school me couldn't believe this was possible. Grown-up runner me knows that I still have plenty of time to get even faster!

Learning NOT to Run

Today's training run was supposed to be nine miles.

I woke up a little later than planned, ate a quick breakfast and got running suit-ed up. Compression socks, Halo headband, GPS watch, spandex and plenty of neon made me look like the real deal (or something). With my water bottle, iPod, and some mid-run fuel in hand, I headed over to a nearby state park to begin my workout.

My plan was to take it easy - I wanted to set an 11:30 minute/mile pace. This week, I've been running faster than that but, due to some pain and tightness in my left leg, I knew the only chance of getting through would be to take it slow and easy.

My first mile was right on pace but I could feel my leg tightening during my walk interval. As I started my second run interval, I noticed that my left glute was starting to feel off. Near the end of the nine-minute cycle, I alternated between walking and running several times. All the while, arguing with myself about whether I was fighting through some mental block or if there was a physical problem that needed to be addressed.

Maybe running would help with the pain and tightness. At least, that's what one part of me was saying. The other part was reminding me that the problem's a couple of weeks old, getting progressively worse, and a few days off now could help me heal and reach my goal of finishing my first half marathon in five weeks and my longer term goal of running/being active for the rest of my life.

At the end of my second mile, I reached a bench. Frustrated and ready to cry, I sat down. When I stood up, I started walking back the way I'd come.

Every time I passed someone running or biking, I wished I had a sign that said, "I'm injured, not a crazy, geared-out walker! Please don't judge me."

It was so stinkin' hard to decide to cut that run short. I've run nine miles before. There are still five weeks before the half marathon. I'm in fine shape to get it done and will probably be in better shape if I don't push too hard on a verging-on-injured leg. But... still... I wanted those five miles that I missed. I wanted to get it done in a good time. I wanted to make it to 80 miles this month.

Eight months ago, the hard thing would have been pushing through those nine miles (or, let's be honest, pushing through one mile). Today, the hardest part was listening to my body and NOT running. Who'd have ever thought that would be so difficult?

Strength, Speed, and Stamina

Several friends and I have a small Facebook group, called Friends Who Run. It's a place where we can celebrate our triumphs, moan about our aching glutes, avoid annoying other facebook friends with our intense interest in running and racing, and connect about other parts of our lives at the same time.

This morning, I posted this to the group:

 

This thought hit me when I was in my car, going someplace I can't remember. I thought, "I would run even if I didn't need to lose weight. I run because I love to run." It's impossible to exaggerate how incredible and completely unbelievable this realization feels.

Back in my DC days, I had the determination to climb on the elliptical every day after work for eight months straight but there never came a time when I thought, "I LOVE this! I don't care how many calories I'm burning!" Not a chance. I spent more time on that machine only because I knew there was a direct correlation to weight loss/maintenance. And I got through the time only by distracting myself with music, TV shows, and celebrity gossip magazines (which I don't even like).

In high school, I went through an aerobics video phase. I sweated to the oldies and worked out with Kathy Lee Gifford and did a Latin dance/aerobics hybrid like the clutzy white girl I am. There was never a moment that I just loved these activities; they were always a gateway to weight loss, a hot body and, hopefully, a boyfriend - the crowning achievement of any high school experience (amiright?!).

But, this running thing, I love it, because it gets me out the door, connects me with friends (new and old), gives me goals to reach for, makes me feel like a rock star, energizes my mind so I can think more clearly, and exhausts my body so I sleep like a baby. AND these bits of amazing only represent a portion of the awesome that has come into my life since I started running.

When I'm out on the road, I think about pushing myself to run my fastest mile ever or keeping a consistent pace over many miles or getting up a hill without any walk breaks. When I got my Garmin Forerunner 10 and one of the display options was "calories burned," it didn't even occur to me that I'd want to know that information while running. I want to know how far and how fast. Immolating calories is a terrific bonus of the run but not my primary or secondary or even tertiary reason for squeezing into my spandex and lacing up my Brooks. (Yes, that sentence was partly an excuse to use the word "tertiary." Deal with it.)

Don't get me wrong - I still think about losing weight, since I have 30-40 pounds yet to go, but it's not a thought that plagues me. I'm doing something that makes me feel alive. And, BONUS, that thing will help me achieve lots of other goals, including, but not limited to, losing the extra weight I carry, literally and figuratively.

Official Race Recap: Georgetown Ten-Miler Edition

I ran nine miles last week. This week I ran (almost) ten.

Back in November, when I had been running for barely three months, my friend, Katie, asked if I'd be interested in running this ten mile race in March. Having a tendency, once I've discovered something I enjoy, to go at it whole hog, I said, "I'll do it if you do it."

Well, we did it... today.

Georgetown is only about 35 miles from where I live and the race didn't start until 9:30, so I was able to sleep until 6:45, have a leisurely breakfast, and still make it to the race with 45 minutes to spare. I grabbed my bib and got into what seemed like a reasonable port-a-john line. I guess it would have been more reasonable had there been more than one toilet and people weren't taking their sweet time... Anyway, half an hour later, with only about five minutes to spare until the start, I got my chance to pee. When I came out 20-30 seconds later, several people shouted, "That was fast! Fastest pee-er ever!" It was a victory. I knew I wouldn't win the actual race but I got cheered by a crowd, anyway.

At the top of the stairs, I was greeted by Katie, her husband, Vince, and two of her friends, Ken and Juvy. Vince was there to cheer. The rest of us were there to get our run on. Because it was a trail race, they started us in waves of 100. I was in the second wave; the others were in later ones, so we didn't run together. The entire field was fewer than 600 runners - nice and small.

Anyway, I was feeling good for my first five miles. The sun was out but it was at my back. My pace was consistent and almost exactly what I was expecting. I got to the turnaround, ate some GU Chomps to recharge my battery as I headed back toward the start, followed a curve in the trail, and was hit full in the face by the sun. Urg! I've gotten so used to running in cold, wet, snowy even, that the sun and warmth wiped me right out. My mile times went from consistent and at goal to consistently slower.

I stuck with my 9:1 walk/run plan the entire way out. On the way back, I felt like I needed several extra walk breaks. One of the things that kept me going was knowing that I would pass the single solitary water station near mile marker 2.5. I was daydreaming about that water and kept moving because I wanted it so badly. As I approached the water station, I saw them hand a cup to the runner 10 or 20 yards in front of me and then noticed that there was no table, there were no full cups. All that was left was a strewn mess of cups and two guys cleaning up. The guy in front of me had gotten the last of the water. So discouraging!

I kept going, knowing that, only a week before, I'd run nine miles with no water. (Thinking back, though, I realize that run was at a cooler temperature, under overcast skies.) Anyway, I slogged through the next two miles knowing that there had to be water at the end. Knowing that I'd already gotten through 7.5 miles and definitely had it in me to finish up.

I got to the end - 9.6 miles and about 2 hours (UPDATE - official time: 1:56:18) after I started. My Garmin didn't agree with the organizer's measurement of the course. In fact, it disagreed by nearly half a mile. I'd like to believe that my watch is cutting out distance, that I'm really going further and faster than I think, but it doesn't seem like the discrepancy would be that big.

There was water at the end. I quickly guzzled 24 ounces of it and grabbed a bottle for Katie. Ken, Vince, and I waited near the finish to spot Katie and Juvy, both of whom were not far behind me. As they approached the finish, we cheered them through. Then we picked up our t-shirts and medals (my first!) and stretched a bit.

All in all, I was pleased with my effort. I was a bit disappointed in parts of the race but I'm trying to think of it as a learning experience instead of beating myself up as I am prone to do.

Lessons learned from this race:

1. Since I'm like a fish that needs an endless supply of water, I need to find the best way to carry my own, especially in smaller races.
2. I need to get some prescription sunglasses or start wearing a hat/visor during races that might involve sun in the face. Also, sunscreen.
3. I already knew I was a hot runner. That seems to be doubly true in hot weather (duh...), so I need to wear fewer clothes or layers that can be peeled back as the race goes on.

It was so cool that the race was in Georgetown because, afterward, we got our pick of amazing restaurants for lunch. We chose Thunder Burger and Bar, which I would heartily recommend to anyone who gets to that area.

I would not recommend the commute from DC to Baltimore on 295, however. Apparently, everyone in DC wants to go to Baltimore on Saturday afternoon, especially when I have to pee.

Seven weeks until my half marathon in Rochester with the lovely Rebecca.

I Ran Nine Miles Today

Who does that?

According to some of my friends, only crazy people.

According to my recent experience, the answer is actually a lot more people than I expected. There are a lot of people in the world that I know, who regularly spend hours at a time putting in laps at the track, loping around their neighborhoods, or bounding down wooded paths.

There's amazing variety among runners.

Some can finish a marathon in less than three hours and do it again the next week. Others are over the moon when they finish a single mile without a walk break.

Some enjoy all the fancy gear and revel in discussions of heart rate monitors and paces and race strategies. Others just like to lace up their shoes and go.

Some lose themselves in music, pumping the jams through headphones guaranteed not to fall out. Others forgo this extra boost and listen to the birds and the wind and the sound of their own feet hitting the pavement or the trail.

Some live for their next race and spend many happy hours researching the next running vacation destination. Others go solo all the time, not interested in the adrenaline rush created by a crowd and a starting gun.

Some look for the next new training method or diet or supplement to boost mileage and speed. Others are content with the pace and miles they put in.

For some, running provides much needed alone time. For others, it is a great way to socialize and make new friends.

Despite all this variety, I've learned something very important about people who run. After we get out there, no matter how well or badly the run seemed to go, whether we brought along a pile of gadgets or left them all at home, if we set a personal record or ran more slowly than expected, we almost always feel like rock stars. Just like I do right now after NINE MILES!

Also, we feel hungry. Very very hungry.

Thank you!

To the kid at the bus stop who yelled "RUN!" as I passed by one early fall morning...

To the older Asian man who stopped me mid-run one day to congratulate me on doing something good for myself...

To the teenagers playing basketball who commented on my stylin' neon safety vest...

To the women, smoking on the stoop across the street, making jokes about my "nice tail" just loudly enough for me to overhear...

To the strangers on the internet who encourage me to keep going even though they've never met me and probably never will...

To all the runners I've passed who nodded, waved, smiled, said "hello," or made a friendly comments...

To the friends with whom I've reconnected or more deeply connected through this fun new lifestyle...

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

Whether your words were kindly and sincerely meant or not, I'll take them. :) I hope I can return the favor!

Offical Race Recap: Penguin Run 5K Edition

I eagerly anticipated casual Friday this week because it meant that I would get to wear the shirt from my most recent 5k - the 19th Annual Penguin Run - held in Buffalo, NY, to benefit Cradle Beach, a summer camp that serves disabled and underprivileged children in the area.

A few months ago, Danielle, a friend I've recently reconnected with over running, said, "Hey, here's a list of races. Pick one and we'll run it together." This was followed almost immediately with, "Oh, you don't live in Buffalo, do you?" Seeing it as a good excuse to make the seven hour trip to see friends, I chose a race, anyway, and planned a weekend away.

When people learned that I was planning to run a race in Buffalo in January, most of them looked at me with doubt in their eyes and said, "What if it's snowing? Won't it be cold?" Meh, whatever, a little snow and cold never killed anyone. At least, not quickly. Anyway, I've discovered that my sweet spot, temperature-wise, for running is anywhere between 10 and 50 degrees F. I don't mind bundling up a little and I put off A LOT of body heat. Even at 18 degrees with snow I've had to remove outer layers mid-run. At 50, I can wear capris and a tee and be completely comfortable. And snow coming down is actually fun as long as there's no ice.

Anyway, on the day of the race, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the temperature was somewhere in the twenties, and the race was midday, so the sun was shining directly on all of us.

I'd convinced another friend, Kyle, with no nagging at all, that he should run with us. So, he and I headed over to the race around 10 a.m. for the 11 a.m. start time. As we were walking from the main building to where packet pickup was taking place, I heard someone yell, "KATIE!" and was suddenly being hugged by Danielle. While Kyle and I got our race gear, Danielle and her friend, Mike, headed out for a three-mile warm up. (Good for them. :)

As start time approached, I paced around the parking lot, then the banquet hall, then back to the parking lot getting more and more nervous about how I'd do. Finally, we were all directed to the start line. Danielle, Kyle, Mike, and I stood around the fringes, talking, laughing, and admiring the shirts of some fellow runners. Three guys had the best technical tees ever. Each was printed with a different animal - horse, wolf, and tiger - and not just a little print, I'm talking full shirt. We asked where they bought them but we couldn't get a straight answer. Guess they don't want the trend catching on. Hipster runners?

The horn blew right on time and we were off...sort of. It took a bit of time to get spread out and up to speed.

Danielle had agreed to pace me with her fancypantsGPSwatch. As we were getting started, she looked over and said, "We're at a 13-minute pace now." Given my 10:30/mile goal,we picked it up. We started passing people right and left. By about half a mile in, we had settled in with our crowd - the folks we'd stay with for most of the race.

In my neighborhood, I'm constantly climbing hills while training. One of the hills I do is actually rated on some objective scale of difficulty. Buffalo, on the other hand, is flat. The course had five feet of elevation - TOTAL! Five feet. Who even notices that when it's spread over a mile? Still, when Danielle told me we were doing under a 10-minutes pace and I felt good, I was shocked. Pulling back the pace to make sure I could finish strong was difficult because it felt so good to just go.

Around the mid-point, I could tell that Kyle - whose training amounted to three or four short runs the couple of weeks before the race - was getting antsy, so I told him to go ahead and just run. Danielle and Mike stuck with me, chatting, encouraging, and just being generally awesome running partners.

When I'm alone, I take walk breaks every 7-8 minutes. Danielle and Mike got me through quite a bit of the race without walking. In the third mile, I just had to take a couple quick walks - breathing hard starts to make me panic - but I was able to get moving again fairly quickly.

As we neared the end, Danielle asked if I wanted to open it up to get across the finish line. I wasn't sure if I could and I told her that. So, she said, "See that 45 sign up there? How about we pick it up after that?" "I don't think I can." We got to the 45, Kyle was there looking all relaxed from being finished for 3 minutes already, and Danielle sped it up. She and Mike both kept encouraging me that I COULD do it. You know what? They were right! It was only for a tenth of a mile but for that tenth, my pace was less than 9 minutes/mile!

My official time was 32:42. That's 2:30 faster than my first 5K, which I ran only two months before. The lack of hills combined with training and encouragement made a huge difference in my performance. It was so much fun to cross that finish line and know that I got faster! The best part is that every race and every training run is a learning experience and I'm getting better at knowing when I can push harder and when I need to back off.

After eating lunch in the crowded banquet hall, we took some impromptu camera phone photos, said goodbye and parted. Half an hour later, I was on the road home, glowing from my post-race euphoria. I'm still freaked out about the longer races I'm facing this year but I'm also confident that I can do it!

For the Ladies: Instead SoftCup - A Review

A disclaimer: I did receive a free box of Instead Softcups to try as part of the For the Love of the Run/Instead Softcup Challenge. That being said, the opinions expressed in my review are completely my own.

An additional note for squeamish readers: There may be some moments in this review that are too much for you. If you need to, skip to the bottom for my review recap.

After I started running, I started hearing more about alternatives to tampons and sanitary pads. Most women can tell you that menstruation is not a terribly convenient or tidy process. Having one's period while running frequently and training at long distances, while using the "traditional" methods of period protection (such an odd term), is much less so. It can also get terribly uncomfortable - including the possibility of chafing in some of the worst places imaginable.

Even before I learned about the Instead Softcup Challenge, I had already purchased a sample directly from Instead. I've never been able to comfortably use tampons and was getting tired of ruining panties every month, so I was excited to try something new. The Instead Softcup website has a lot of information about use of the product and really thorough FAQs, so I'll focus on my experience with the product here. You can get your technical information from them.

Like many women, I can be a tad squeamish about my own body, so it took me a little while to actually try this product. I've used Softcup for two cycles now and am planning to continue into the foreseeable future. (Warning: skip to the bottom now if you're not interested in all the details.)

As with any new product, getting the hang of using it properly took a few tries. Within half an hour of inserting my first Softcup, I had to try again because I hadn't pushed it back far enough and I could tell that leakage was imminent. Once I figured out exactly how to place the Softcup (resting behind the pubic bone), all leaking stopped, except for when I used the bathroom. A friend who has been using this product for a while and Instead's FAQ section confirmed that this was normal. Also, during the heaviest days of my period, I have to make sure that I empty the Softcup a little more often to avoid tiny leaks that can result from overflow.

Taking out the Softcup without a mess is a skill that continues to elude me, even as I'm in the midst of using it for a second cycle. Removing the Softcup is simple enough, but I always end up with some blood on my fingers. For me, this is not a big enough drawback that I will discontinue use of the product, but it is less than optimal when using public restrooms. As I was traveling while first trying the Softcup, this issue presented some challenges. I am going to make a kit for Softcup use, to include hand sanitizer to use before inserting or removing the device and wet wipes for after (before leaving the stall). Many women may already keep these items handy; I am not one of those women.

I have done a variety of activities while using Softcup, including running and yoga. When it's inserted, I don't notice that it's there. I've never experienced any leaks as a result of physical activity even on heavy flow days. Compared to my experience with tampons (terribly uncomfortable/lots of leaks) and pads (leaks/chafing/smells), Softcup is incredible.

THE BOTTOM (oh, squeamish ones, you can start again here): Going forward, Softcup will be my choice for period protection (yup, that's still weird), especially when running. Not only is it comfortable and reliable, it's much more cost effective and environmentally-friendly (there are both disposable and reusable options) than the products I've used in the past.

Ladies, I'd recommend giving this product a try - whether you run or not. If you're interested, there may still be time to get in on the Softcup Challenge. Those of you who don't want commit to publicly discussing your period, respond to this post. I will order Softcup sample packs for the first five to respond before January 30.

Running Evangelist

I spend a lot of time surprising myself these days.

This week, at work, it happened again. Two co-workers and I were about to begin a meeting and one of them, Heather, mentioned the new sneakers she'd purchased recently. Actually, when she bought them, Heather posted on my Facebook wall that the shoes made her think of me. (That anyone would think of me when they buy athletic gear is a huge surprise in itself.)

Anyway, Heather went on to say that, after using the shoes to take her dog on a long walk, she ate McDonald's.

Without even missing a beat, I launched into something about how a lot of runners don't lose weight because they overcompensate for the calories burned during runs by eating too much.

The conversation continued for about ten more minutes along the same line. Heather or Sarah would make a comment and I would have some rejoinder about running.

Please don't misunderstand, I wasn't hijacking the conversation. I even made a couple of attempts to turn the topic back to work. I even said, "I have about five responses to what you just said but I don't want to keep us from our meeting."

By the end, I'd offered to run a race with Heather if she decided to take up running.

So, anyway, what on earth happened over the last few months that I have become "that person" - the one who can always find a segue into further conversation about running, the one who offers to add a race to her schedule to motivate a friend, the one who evangelizes for the cause of running, the one who is sometimes completely annoying?

By the way,  if I ever do become "that person" around you and it's annoying the crap out of you, just let me know. I'll try to stop. Just give me some grace, though. After all, there's no one as zealous as a convert.

Thinner

Age 5: healthy weight

So, I've been running and doing other exercise for the past six months. Actual running has been involved for a little over five of those months. Reliable sources have led me to believe that if a person sticks with something for six months, chances are good that she will stick with it for much longer, possibly even the rest of her life. That's cool, reliable sources, but I'm hedging my bets by paying for races that require training. I've also added running with friends to the equation like an extra layer of protection. Better safe than sorry, I say.

Anyway, the real point of this post is that, as I run and do Pilates and practice yoga and lift weights, I'm getting thinner. Because I didn't weigh myself at the start and have only weighed myself twice since (most recently on Labor Day weekend), I don't know how many pounds I've dropped. I do know that pants that were embarrassingly tight in July are now comically huge on me. Form-fitting clothes, which I would have avoided as recently as September, feel good and look flattering today.

Not only has my body gotten smaller, it's become less jiggly. When I walk or run, I can feel muscles flexing and relaxing instead of an extra layer of insulation wobbling. (It could be just a dream but, if it is, it is a good dream.) Bones that used to be entirely hidden by extra flesh are now peeking through, promising to become even more prominent (in a healthy, not a disgusting, way) as I keep up the good work. Muscles that once needed much coaxing to appear hard and toned, now look flexed and ready to go when I'm just sitting or standing around.

There have been so many other benefits, too. My balance is much better - I don't spend half an hour after waking each morning trying not to trip over myself as my muscles get used to this whole moving thing all over again. My lungs don't scream from walking up one flight of stairs. My body is actually tired at the end of the day and, as a result, I sleep soundly and wake refreshed.

But, let me tell you a secret, for all its wonders, my changing body is a little scary, too.

I've been a "large" woman my whole life. I've seen pictures of a five-year-old me, in which I'm a healthy size, but I can't remember what that felt like. There were a couple times in high school and one time between college and grad school that I lost substantial amounts of weight. Most of those occasions involved either very little exercise at all or a staggeringly limited array of exercises (30-60 minutes on an elliptical every weekday for eight months and nothing else). Diet helps shed pounds but you can be thin and still jiggly. The elliptical helped somewhat with the jiggle but I'm surprised I kept up with it as long as I did since it was SO BORING.

After 25 years identifying as the fat girl, no matter how slender I become, she will always be a part of me. I know how to be the fat girl. In very many ways, it's comfortable to be her. This new, thinner, decreasingly-jiggly body is a strange land for me. Judging by the clothes I'm wearing, I'm about to enter territory I've never traversed, having mostly stayed around the borders of the land of Healthy Weight. It's going to take some time to understand the ways of the people here and become fully assimilated.

I will continue to question whether that size medium actually fits or if I should try to cover up the lump that just won't go away with something a little baggier.

I will be surprised when I see someone who weighs 150 pounds pack away half a pizza.

I will be self-conscious about (while, at the same time, proud of) the stretch marks that will remain on my arms, stomach, and thighs, no matter how much weight I lose.

And I will notice every bump or lump or bulge that might mean it's all coming back - maybe not forever but for a long time to come - because it always seems to happen slowly, when you're not paying attention.

I'll get there. Staying there, taking up permanent residence is the scary part.

They're Everywhere

You know how when you get a new car, you start noticing that EVERYONE has the same car you do? Well, since I began running, I've started noticing that runners are EVERYWHERE. I see them in the morning as I walk in to work, in the afternoon as I'm leaving work, along the road as I drive. Where I never see them is in my neighborhood where I run.

Weird.

I think I'm jonesing for a running buddy. Any slow pokes out there in Baltimore want to jog with me once or twice a week?

Go Away! (Wait! No! I Don't Mean You.)

This morning, I was contemplating whether I should do some yoga. Almost immediately, what I'd like to call the Gollum-part of my brain began questioning why I would want to do something so silly. After all, yoga makes me hot and sweaty, sometimes I look silly or fall over while I'm doing it, and it fatigues my muscles.

For most of my life, I've identified as "non-athletic" and let myself off the hook for most non-required physical activity. And, as we all know, a body at rest tends to stay at rest. The longer I rested, the more reasons/excuses/justifications the Gollum-part gave me for continuing to do so.

But now, even though I know that I enjoy moving my body, that Gollum-part, full of reasons, excuses, and justifications, still makes a valiant effort to derail me from every workout. With the advent of my adult-onset athleticism, it has even added a few new lines to its repertoire.

"You ate so well today, you don't need to exercise, too."

"You ran 6 miles last night. Sure, yoga will stretch out your sore muscles and strength training will help you run faster next time but YOU RAN 6 MILES LAST NIGHT."

"Look how far you've come. Isn't the point you've reached good enough? Why don't you just take it easy? Forever."

Etc. Etc. Ad Nauseum. It's nasty little voice tries to soothe me into complacency.

As I listened to this script playing in my mind today, I felt disgusted that I was still listening to the Gollum-part. Then, confused by how my mind continues to fight something I know every bit of me enjoys. Finally, I made a decision.

From now on, as often as I remember, when the Gollum-part speaks up, I'm going to respond, "SHUT UP! You don't speak for me. I'm going to see what my body can do today. It might be a little. It might be a lot. But it's going to be something. Go away and NEVER come back!"

And, some day, just like in the Lord of the Rings, the Gollum-part WILL go away. Only, in my world, he'll never come back.

It's an imperfect metaphor. So sue me.

My First Official Race Recap (5K Edition)

I heard somewhere that there are more races run in the USA on Thanksgiving Day than any other day of the year. After all, what better way to assuage one's guilt for eating a ridiculous amount of calorie-rich food than to run hard before the marathon of eating begins?

Yesterday, I took part in this glorious tradition by running my very first race ever. I was looking for a 5k in November and, when I discovered that one of my running friends was, too, I decided to join her in whatever local race she undertook. So, Stacey and I ended up registering for the 40th Annual Millersville Turkey Trot.

I was feeling some race jitters the night before we ran. Falling asleep wasn't a problem but I woke up around 3 a.m., then again at 5 a.m., and, though I was able to doze off, I had a nightmare. My clothes were too small. I couldn't find the start line. My ID was missing! It was a mess. Fortunately, the actual race went very smoothly.

I arrived at packet pick-up around 8:15. There were a lot more participants than I expected. Last year, there were just over 500 finishers. This year, there were over 900!

When I got into the packet pick-up line, there were only about ten people ahead of me. By the time I got my t-shirt, there were about eighty behind me. Timed that right! Almost as soon as I had my shirt and bib, I turned around and saw Stacey. She helped me find the bathroom and showed me how to put the timing chip on my shoe (a process I somehow made ten times more difficult than it should have been).

We got to the start line in plenty of time but, due to the large number of participants, the race started about fifteen minutes late. While we waited in the crowd, we overheard a guy behind us complaining about how slow people and children mess up races. I started cracking up as he informed his friends that, from now on, he was only going to run "serious" 5K's. I sort of wanted to punch this guy's pretentious face, but I was also a little sad that he couldn't just relax and have some fun. I understand the desire to do your best but, holy crap, don't be a douche about it. (Btw, I abhor the word "douche," as an insult but, if you had heard this guy, you would have realized he was the reason it came into common usage.) Do they publish a list of "serious" 5K's? If so, I want to get one so that I can run slowly with an empty stroller in front of that guy.

Anyway, once we started, it was great. I felt like I was going my normal pace but, at my first split, I was only at a little over ten minutes. For me, that's phenomenal. There were some hills, so I tried to make myself slow down and I even took a couple short walk breaks, but at the two-mile split, I was at an 11-minute/mile pace and still feeling great!

I was amazed by the people I was able to pass or stay with through the entire course. My thoughts were not judgmental just rather amazed at how far I've come in three-and-a-half months. Just goes to show that fitness cannot be judged by looking at a person.

As I drew nearer to the end of the course, I desperately wanted to put on some speed but I just kept my pace until I knew I could pick it up and finish strong instead of pooping out just shy of the finish.

I crossed the finish line at 35:16, beating my goal time by almost a full minute. I was giddy! I grabbed an apple and hunted for Stacey's red shirt among the crowd. We posed for the picture above and then I spotted another friend, holding his daughter, among the spectators, looking for us to finish. He'd missed our triumphant jogs across the line but it was still great to see Stu and Isabelle and hear Isabelle say, "Good job, Kate!" (even if it wasn't until hours later).

Only the first 100 finishers got ribbons but I wore my new race t-shirt (after I took a shower) for the rest of the day and was proud to answer people's inquiries about how it had gone. I'm constantly amazed at and grateful for how interested and supportive people are of this new pursuit.

Now that I've officially "competed," I can understand why runners do this often and why they go for longer and longer distances. It's so cool to take part in an event with so many people doing an activity that can be very solitary. It's interesting and fun to push your limits and realize how much more you can do. But it all went by so quickly - that 35 minutes passed in the blink of an eye - so it makes sense that people, especially people who can finish 5K's in 15-25 minutes, would want a greater challenge, something that lasts longer, after putting in the hours of training required.

The verdict: I'm glad I've already got some other races on the docket. Woot! Can't wait to run with (or behind :) Danielle, Katie, and Rebecca in the coming months!

Races I'm Going to Run

08/17/13 - River Valley Run 10k - Baltimore, MD
09/01/13 - 1812 Challenge - Watertown, NY
09/14/13 - 9/11 Heroes Run - Arlington, VA
10/05/13 - Houghton Fun Run 5k - Houghton, NY
10/12/13 - Baltimore Running Festival 5k - Baltimore, MD
10/19/13 - Runner's World 5k AND 10k - Bethlehem, PA
10/20/13 - Runner's World Half Marathong - Bethlehem, PA
12/14/13 - Celtic Solstice 5-Miler - Baltimore, MD
04/08/14 - Hot Chocolate 15k - Philadelphia, PA
05/03/14 - Frederick 5k - Frederick, MD
05/04/14 - Frederick Half Marathon - Frederick, MD

I Love My Thighs

Never in my whole adult life have I been able to honestly say that I love my thighs. They and my upper arms have always been the two pieces of my body that I wanted to hide under clothing as frequently as possible.

But now, I'm saying it, loud and proud, "I LOVE MY THIGHS!"

Let me be clear - these parts are still wobblier than I would like. I'm working on that, not because I feel ashamed but because I want to see what they can become.

I love my thighs because they move me.

When I look in a mirror as I'm walking past, they don't jiggle. They are becoming more and more like the thighs I so admire in swimmers and runners that flex powerfully with each step.

These thighs of mine are evidence that I'm changing from the inside out and I'm proud of them and me.

I love that these thighs are one of the things that will carry me through my first race - this Thursday in Millersville, PA - hopefully, in a time I can hardly bring myself to believe is possible.

What's your favorite of your parts?

My Apologies (Sort Of)

I know, I talk about running incessantly. You're starting to get bored and annoyed with all my chatter. I'm sorry in the I'm-sorry-you-feel-that-way way not in the I'm-sorry-I'm-doing-it way. It's not going to stop. I've already got races in mind for the next eleven months. If I make it through all that, I can't imagine I'll give it up.

Some reasons I'm going to keep running AND talking about it:

1) I've never felt this good about myself in my entire life (except maybe when I had 4.0 semesters post-high school). Running has given me an amazing sense of confidence and accomplishment that is dependent only on what I do or don't do, not on what other people say or think about me.

2) I can't remember a single time in my life that my body has felt better than it does now. Even with the seemingly inevitable aches and pains of running, I feel strong and energetic most of the time. And, when I am tired, I sleep great! It's not just my muscles and lungs that are working better, it's everything. A few people have even said my skin looks clearer and it was pretty clear to begin with.

3) Running is fun! Sometimes it's the most fun when it's over but, unlike any other exercise I've ever undertaken, running gives me a joy, a feeling of freedom, like I can do anything I want to do. Knowing what my friends say about racing, I think beginning that part of my journey will just add to my already significant enjoyment of the sport.

4) Every run is a triumph. Every time I go out there, I remember that, as little as three months ago, the thought of moving my body seven miles without a car felt impossible. Now, every time I go a little further or faster, it's like I won another prize.

5) Through running, I learn something new every day - about the sport, about other runners, or about myself. I love learning! I've even had opportunities to share my knowledge (possibly giving unsolicited advice - I'm actually sorry about that if it annoyed anyone) and I love teaching as much as learning.

6) I'm an inspiration. I'm not being prideful - people have told me I have inspired them. It's amazing and humbling and touching to know that something I'm doing (that can sometimes feel totally selfish) is inspiring other people to make decisions and take actions toward bettering themselves. That's definitely something I'm not planning to throw away anytime soon and I hope that my perseverance will only serve as further inspiration.

So, I'm going to keep talking. I hope you'll keep listening and responding. But, if you can't take it, I'll understand. :)

Diving In

Before you read the following, I have to let you know that everything I'm about to say makes me feel like a complete poser.

I'm making a plan - a race plan, that is. These are words I never thought I'd say. Before starting C25K, running a race wouldn't have even crossed my mind.

But NOW, now that I'm thinking about it, the thought loops through my mind all day long. And I spend time almost every night looking up races near people I would like to visit.

I've got a 5K coming up next month (November 22 - Millersville Turkey Trot - Millersville, PA) before I stuff myself with Thanksgiving yummies! I'm hunting for a 10K in January or February. AND... dah dah dah DAH... I've chosen my first half marathon (April 28 - Flower City Challenge - Rochester, NY) and will be running it with (behind...far behind) one of my lovely college roommates, Rebecca, and possibly one of my favorite co-workers, Karin. In May, I'm running a Warrior Dash here in Maryland - mostly because I want a fuzzy viking hat.

After that, I'm considering doing The 18.12 Challenge, which starts in my hometown and continues for 18.12 miles to a battle site from the War of 1812 on the shore of Lake Ontario in Sackets Harbor. Seriously? Seriously. And, several friends have already noted, an 18 mile race in September puts me in pretty good position for a marathon in the fall. I'm not planning on that yet.

Phew! Even thinking about it is exhausting yet, somehow, completely exhilarating at the same time.

So, I'm going to start training. That word - "training" - intimidates me, makes me feel completely out of my depth and, as I mentioned before, like a total poser. But I'm going to do it. Until now, this running thing has been all about getting fit and losing weight and feeling better about myself. Those goals still apply, but as I'm getting closer to reaching some of them, it's becoming more about pushing myself, improving my time, increasing my distance, setting a goal and crushing it as often as possible.

Anyway, I think once I run 13 miles at a go, the occasional poser-y feeling should wear off.

Feel free to offer any advice as I begin my training journey.

Races I've Run

07/20/13 - Hot Buns Run - 31:51 (5k PR)
06/15/13 - 1/2 Sauer 1/2 Kraut - 3:02:29
05/18/13 - Warrior Dash - 1:28:47
05/11/13 - The Color Run - untimed
05/05/13 - Frederick Half Marathon - 2:29:53 (HM PR)
04/28/13 - Flower City Half Marathon - 2:39:14
03/09/13 - Georgetown Ten-Miler - 1:56:18 (10-mile PR)
01/27/13 - Penguin Run 5k - 32:42
11/22/12 - Millersville Turkey Trot 5k - 35:16

Under Pressure

Okay, I'm willing to accept my share of the blame for the people around me jumping to conclusions. Apparently, when you write "Marathon?" on Facebook and suggest that possibly, just maybe, you will run a marathon at some time in your life, that means you are intending to run a marathon in 6 months to a year.

If I'd only known before I posted it! But I didn't and now that cat's out of the bag or something.

So, my lovely, encouraging friends are talking to me about doing a marathon and saying, "I'll run the first mile with you!" and "Let's do it!" The problem is that I am still actually undecided about this. I don't know if a marathon is a goal I'm interested in setting. I don't even know for sure if a half-marathon is in my future.

Mostly, the issue is that I'm a little bit stubborn. I don't like to do things because other people think I should. I want to do things because I want to do them. I don't want people to have expectations and goals for me.

More importantly, I don't want people to be disappointed if I don't live up to their expectations - and running 26.2 miles is a pretty big expectation.

This running thing - it's all new for me. I'm still not sure how far my mind and body will let me go. And I'm a bit overwhelmed by what it means to TRAIN for a marathon. There's so much to think about and plan.

And, I have this little thing inside me saying, "If you want to do it, you can't just do it, you have to do it well, you habitual over-achiever." And that little thing is not interested in watching me slog through a marathon at my current 13.5 min/mile pace and it has absolutely no confidence that I will be able to reach the 9-10 min/mile I'd prefer.

So, "Marathon?" really is a question in my world, not a vague and sneaky way for me to wave my arms and say, "HEY EVERYBODY, I'M GOING TO RUN A MARATHON!!!" I promise, when I make that decision, I will wave my arms and shout "WATCH ME! WATCH ME! WATCH ME!"

In the meantime, I am so grateful for everyone's encouragement (so keep it coming) and boundless confidence in my ability that I sometimes lack. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Am I Serious?

Baltimore Running Festival

On Saturday, I spent half the day at the Baltimore Running Festival. I didn't run, I was there to cheer on some friends and co-workers

We cheered from two different locations. Our first observation point between miles 15 and 16 was a bit subdued - populated only by those who knew a friend would be coming down the road. The finish line was a completely different story. There were hundreds of people, lining both sides of the path, cheering everyone who passed. Running through that line, feeling those encouraging vibes in the last two miles of the race would set me up for 2 to 3 months.

Less than three months ago, I was still telling myself, "Running is boring and painful. Why would anyone want to do that for 5 minutes, let alone 4-5 hours straight?" Even a couple weeks ago, my opinion still went something like "Running can be fun but I still don't understand long-distance running." My time at the running festival opened my eyes - just a little bit further.

I'm beginning to see the attraction - the satisfaction in training, the energy during the race, and the sense of accomplishment at the finish line. I'm even beginning to believe that, with sufficient training, I could do it.

Does that mean I'll be running a marathon? I guess we'll see.

Retreat

Most of my closest friends live far away - some farther than others. At times, this fact is sad and distressing, almost a cause for despair. However, in the past year I've realized that it can also be a cause for rejoicing.

Though I miss living daily life with my friends - facing the mundane details side-by-side with my people - there is something to be said for having every visit be an occasion. When I want to see most of my oldest and dearest friends, I have to plan and coordinate to make it happen.

While the need to plan can sometimes be frustrating, it also means that when I'm with my friends, the time is for us to spend together. It doesn't matter what we do, we are more focused on enjoying one another than we might be if our visits were easier and more frequent. We know that our time is limited and I (I assume, we) cherish even the time spent doing nothing together.

And, as a bonus to all the amazing friend time, visits to my people can also be amazing retreats.

I get to spend hours reading at a friend's cabin.

Or watch the mist rise over a lake in early autumn at other friends' lake house.

Or write in my journal with only occasional (welcome) interruptions from little people.

My friends' homes are places full of good times and good people but the fact that I must travel to see them gives me the chance to get away from my normal life on a regular basis. It's beautiful. And, no matter how much I would love to be nearer my dear ones, distance has its benefits.

I'm a Runner

The title of this blog may make you think, "Duh." Maybe a few of you even said it out loud. After all, even to me, it seems like running and exercise and diet are all I ever write about on here (and on facebook). But, I didn't realize how true the statement "I am a runner" has become in my life until today.

The last time I ran, before today, was September 1. That's when this stupid pain in my foot kicked in. I've been exercising since - aerobics, strength, flexibility, yadda yadda yadda - but it has all been in service of the ultimate goal: once again lacing up my running shoes and hitting the streets.

Having been pain free for more than a week, I decided to take a calculated risk and go for a jog this morning. I got up around 7, dressed in my decidedly non-fancy running duds, popped in my ear buds, and headed out the door.

Even as I started, I was thinking I'd just walk. Then I opened my C25K app, regressed to week 6, even though I was only one session away from week 8 when I got injured, and pressed "Begin Workout."

I was a bit nervous when I started jogging the first time - completely tuned in to any warning signs from my foot. My stride was clumsy at first but it smoothed out more quickly than I expected. Everything felt great.

When the C25K coach told me to begin walking, I was a little disappointed. I felt no need to rest but I followed her instructions. Throughout the second jogging section, I was thinking, "Maybe this foot injury isn't really a problem. This feels good! I LIKE RUNNING!!!"

That's when the thought hit me - I'm a runner. An injured, newbie runner, yes, but a runner nonetheless. I think I even had a tiny runner's high.

It was during the third jogging section that I got my first twinge. I kept going for a minute or so, feeling it out. When the pain didn't subside, I slowed to a walk - a very disappointed walk, I must say - and finished my trek home. I was nearly 2 miles into my run before I felt any pain at all. AT ALL.

The moral of this story is that, whatever the doctor recommends (we've been playing phone tag for the past couple of days), the ultimate goal of any treatment plan for my foot will need to be getting me back out running with the fewest number of invasive procedures possible. After all...

I AM A RUNNER!

Broken Foot (or Complain, Complain, Complain)

Usually, when I go to the doctor, I leave feeling better. Maybe not 100% better but, at least, confident that there is a direction that will lead to healing. Didn't feel that way so much leaving the podiatrist today.

Today, leaving the doctor's office, I felt like the rug was being pulled out from under me. For nine weeks, I had been on track, holding steady, taking control of my health, and really beginning to enjoy running. Even after her initial assessment, the doctor seemed confident that it was probably just tendinitis. She had x-rays taken just to be sure it wasn't something with the bone.

Well, it was something with the bone. I saw the x-ray and thought, "What is that extra joint doing there?" Turns out, it wasn't an extra joint but an old fracture that had never been properly diagnosed or treated and had, therefore, not properly healed. In fact, the bone that broke didn't heal back together at all. You can clearly see the split in my x-ray. That means, that one of the bones in my foot is not bearing any weight at all - so the other bones and my muscles and tendons have to take up the slack. Which has led to tendinitis and the pain I've been experiencing. The doc hopes we can treat this with orthotic inserts but, if that doesn't work, surgery may be the next logical step. Surgery! On my foot! And I didn't think to ask whether she thought the inserts would be enough to get out running again or if that was just a measure to make me comfortable.

On the way home from the doctor, I started crying in my car. They were tears of anger and frustration. Some of it was frustration that I can't do what I want to right now, which is to exercise pretty intensely on a daily basis. Most of it was anger, though, that when I was fifteen, my mom had to consider her pocketbook when deciding whether I should receive medical care... anger that when I was fifteen, I knew how tight money was, and felt like I should downplay my pain to not stress/worry my mother... anger that whatever has to be done now to fix it will likely cost much more that it would have and be far more painful than it would have been to get it treated right away.

I know there are alternatives - I can find other activities to do - but right now it feels like they all involve gym memberships and/or expensive equipment that I can't afford. Running only requires a good pair of shoes and almost everything else is optional for the distances I can do. And aerobics requires a good floor space and a few DVDs borrowed from the library.

There are certain to be positive developments in this situation and I know there are lots of worse things that could have happened but, for today, I'm feeling down and I won't apologize for it.

The Anxiety of Rest

Last week, I was on vacation. It was truly lovely to visit one of my best friend's and her beautiful family but, while there, I experienced unexpected anxiety.

I've been at this exercise thing for two months now - twice a day, six days a week. I know, it sounds crazy but it makes me feel good. While I was in Houghton, I wanted to ease off a little, enjoy some rest and relaxation. I still worked out most days, but only once. I even got a really great run in with my amazing marathon-training Rebecca. I ran two whole miles without stopping - two runs in a row!!!

On the days I didn't get up in the morning to work out right away, I noticed that I spent many minutes throughout the rest of the day feeling anxious that I was losing momentum until I did some sort of exercise. In the back of my mind, there was (and is) this voice reminding me of the times I've started and quit in the past.

It taunts me, whispering, "Ha! This is how it happened before - you were going to take it easy for a week or you got sick or your muscles were extra sore and you never started again. You're a looosssseeer."

And, now, after a couple really great runs in Houghton, I'm injured. There wasn't a moment when it happened, so the diagnosis isn't obvious, but walking and running make my left foot and ankle hurt and it's a bit swollen. The pain is dull and achy, gone when I wake up but returning as soon as I've walked for a few minutes.

So, wisdom and running friends tell me that I shouldn't run on this foot. I probably shouldn't do aerobics on this foot either. If it doesn't go away in a few days, I'll need to go to the doctor. If it's the stress fracture I fear, it could mean 3-4 weeks of "rest."

And, I think I'm getting sick (sore throat and all that jazz), which is another good reason to rest and recover. But...

I DON'T WANT TO REST! I don't want to sit around. I want to run and do aerobics and practice yoga and lift weights. I want to finish couch to 5K and move on to 5K to 10K. I want to keep moving in the right direction, not stagnating on my couch. Most of all, I don't want to quit. I don't want to quit. I don't want to quit!

Please, dear God, don't let me quit.