Mile 24

Yesterday, I faced a difficult non-running challenge.  As president of the PTA at my children's school, I needed to present an unpopular view to our families, facilitate a discussion on the topic, and do it on my own without support from the administration.  To say that I was stressed about this task is to say that a marathon is a little run.

I wasted time and mental energy feeling frustrated about the situation and wanting to know why I was forced to defend a decision that I had no role in making and that, quite frankly, I didn't agree with.  I couldn't eat.  I had little patience for my kids.  I twisted my hair into oblivion.  Exhausted from the stress, I finally found a new framework in which to face the situation.  I couldn't control the circumstances, but I had total control over my outlook, my approach, and my attitude.

With this realization, I noticed that the meeting was exactly like mile 24 of my marathon: an uphill battle with the wind in my face and a body and brain fatigued beyond all imagining.  But just as I put my head down and survived mile 24, I knew I could grin and bear it to make it through my tough evening.

Renewed in spirit, I approached the meeting and the dreaded topic with optimism.  I strove to find a silver lining (small though it was) amidst the hurt feelings, and I encouraged the rest of the families to do the same.  I asked them to use this frustrating situation as an opportunity to teach our children how to be strong in the face of adversity, to face the future with courage, and to stand together as a united front when the going gets tough.  The message was received better than I could have hoped, and though nothing is resolved, I hope that the spirit of optimism will overpower the anger and frustration.

The discussion took every drop of my energy, and when it was finally over, I felt like I'd been run over by a Mack truck.  Not unlike how I felt at the end of mile 24.

When I set out to train for a marathon, I expected to gain strong quads, chiseled calves, and lungs of steel.  What I attained instead is infinitely more powerful.  Though I'm pleased with my strong legs and spacious lungs, I'm amazed at the mental strength I honed over the last 5 months.  Before marathon training, I couldn't have faced the unhappy crowd last night with the calm and poise that I did.  My marathon taught me that I can do hard things.  Really hard things.  I can persevere through difficult moments - the mile 24's of life - by sheer force of will.

Thanks to months of training, I am strong.  Inside and out.

I DID IT!

I did it!  I raced the GO! St. Louis Marathon on Sunday.  I am a marathoner!!  The weather was not exactly ideal but it was good enough.  The crowds were wonderful.  The volunteers were top-notch.  And the camaraderie among the runners was just as I'd hoped.  If you just want the Cliff Notes version, that's it.  If you love race day minutiae, however, read on.  I've got it for you in spades:

PRE-RACE
My dear BRF, who was not running due to injury, offered to drive me to the starting line, and I greatly appreciated her calming voice and peaceful spirit in the early morning hours.  I was sad that she wouldn't be by my side on the course, but I looked forward to seeing her, along with my family, at various points on the course as my dedicated cheering section.

Waiting around before the race, I felt more calm than I expected.  I chatted with a few folks, but I mostly sat quietly on a park bench waiting for the race to start.  I'd packed my pre-race fuel (I love to eat a peanut butter graham cracker and banana immediately before a long run) and ate it just before I entered the starting corral.  Again, in the corral, I felt calm.  I took in the sight of the huge field of runners, focused on my breath, and waited for my turn to go.

The view in my starting corral; my mantras for the day;
pre-race shoe selfie.

EARLY MILES
The wave start was a bit haphazard.  We neatly lined up in our corrals, but the officials did not put much distance between the corrals.  The elites took off on their own, and then the rest of us more or less went out in two massive herds.  Not at all the start I was expecting, but the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd kept me at an easy pace for the early miles, an essential part of my race strategy and one that I thought would be hard given race day excitement.

The crowd remained very thick throughout the early part of the race.  Our first mile took us through downtown St. Louis and then onto the first of two bridges.  The bridge trek was fun, though the running lanes on the first bridge were quite narrow, and my pace stayed lower than I expected.  We crossed over into East St. Louis, IL, and I was pleasantly surprised by the crowd support.  Many residents were out cheering, and the atmosphere was very upbeat.

The only thing dampening the Illinois crowd was the rain that began to fall.  Rain?!  It wasn't supposed to rain!  The forecast showed 0% chance of rain that morning.  Yet here I was, at mile 2.5 in a sprinkling rain.  Fortunately, the shower was very short-lived; it was done by the time we crossed the second bridge heading back to downtown St. Louis.

My incredible support crew on race day.  Not pictured are the photographers: my dad and older sister.
The Little Lady is also absent from the pictures but she was surely there
high fiving lots of runners along with her sister :)

Running on the second bridge, I learned the phenomenon of mechanical resonance.  I suddenly felt unsteady on my feet and momentarily worried that something was wrong with my electrolytes or hydration.  Then I realized that everyone else felt it too: the bridge was bouncing from the feet of so many runners.  Like the rain, the sensation did not last too long, but it was a bit unsettling.  The traffic on the second bridge seemed even thicker, and I worked hard to keep a lane so I could pass slower runners on the uphill section.

By mile 4, we were finishing up the second bridge and heading towards the north part of the city.  We heard a great live band at mile 5, and I saw my cheering section there, too!  I waved and blew kisses at them, feeling strong and happy.  My pace was right about where I wanted it, and though the field was still dense, I felt like I was in a good groove.

Elevation and pace chart for my race.
Clearly, I started taking more frequent (and slower!) walk breaks near the end,
but my running pace stayed remarkably consistent throughout.

Mile 7 took us back to the starting area with an absolutely bustling crowd!  High energy and wonderful enthusiasm.  By mile 8, I had finally found my way out of the thick group of runners.  I felt like I had some breathing room and could set my pace a bit more easily.  I saw my husband, kids, and other sister at mile 9 and collected some quick hugs before continuing towards the Anheuser Busch Brewery.

The fans near the brewery and in Soulard were spectacular, as always.  I saw a good friend at mile 10 and gave high fives to my kids at mile 11 as I headed back up Broadway towards downtown.  Miles 11 and 12 included lots of uphills, but I kept telling myself "kill the hill!" as I charged and passed people left and right.  In mile 12, I found myself next to a woman who was running her 100th (!!) marathon.  I stayed in her general area for almost 10 miles, and she and her posse were a wonderful boost to my spirits.

MIDDLE MILES
At mile 13, as the half marathoners were upping their efforts towards their finish line, I had to remind myself to stay focused.  I felt myself getting swept up in the energy of the finish line crowd, and I had to work hard to maintain a steady pace.  Once the half marathoners turned, the course became a ghost town.  We headed (uphill!) into a more industrial part of town, the fans were sparse, and the runners felt few and far between.  As I neared mile 15, my left knee started complaining, and I hit an unexpectedly hard mental period.  I saw my parents/sister/BRF right around 15 and told them that it was getting tough.  My sister reminded me that my only goal was to finish, a timely reminder that sharpened my focus.

Still churning out industrial-area miles, I saw my husband/kids/sister again around 17 and stopped for a moment to talk to them.  I knew I was close to Forest Park, so I felt mentally renewed as I ran away from them.  Entering Forest Park was like finding an oasis in a desert.  The crowds were energetic, music blasted, and I fell into step with a few more runners.  I cruised through familiar sections of the park for several miles feeling tired but content.  When I saw my parents/sister/BRF at mile 20, however, my commitment to the cause was flagging.  I paused to eat some banana and drink water and told them that I really just wanted to sit down.  They pushed me away, wisely saying that sitting was a terrible idea.

A summary of the day: running strong; crossing the finish line;
legs up the tree post-race; my crew in matching shirts.

My sister and BRF offered to run with me for a bit; I asked if we could walk instead.  We walked for almost half a mile, and though I can hardly recall what they said, their energetic and encouraging voices kept me going.  When they peeled off, I told myself that I'd start running again in 20 more steps.  Nearing the end of this walk break, a kind runner asked if I was ok.  "You look strong!" she told me.  "Pump your arms.  You can do this!"  Too tired to disagree, I followed her directions and resumed my running stride.

We remained in the park through mile 22, and I kept up a reasonable pace.  I stopped to walk at each water stop, with my walking pace becoming slower and slower each time, but I always returned to my run and told myself I only had to run until the next water table.  I saw my husband/kids/sister again at mile 23, and my husband ran and walked with me for about half a mile.  He kept trying to push the pace, but I assured him that I was moving as fast as possible.  He pointed out that I only had a measly 3 miles to go, the equivalent of a simple neighborhood loop that I've run hundreds of times.  I told him that I wasn't sure I cared to finish, but he called my bluff.  "Go get it!" he told me.  "You've got this!"

THE FINAL PUSH
After parting ways, I headed back into the industrial stretch this time with tired legs and a headwind.  Mile 24 found me running uphill with the wind in my face.  Instead of feeling defeated, however, I pushed my pace on the hill and told myself that this is just how things happen for me.  I don't get the easy path; things don't just fall into my lap.  Instead, I work hard, fight through tough conditions, and get the job done.  I walked (slowly!) through the water stop at mile 25 and told myself that I had to push hard to the end.  No more walking until I crossed that finish line.

I felt mentally recharged in that final 1.2 miles.  My knee ached, my hamstrings were fatigued, my toes hurt, but I was going to finish strong!  I turned up the pace even higher at mile 26, not sure that I could maintain it.  I charged down the final straightaway, sensing rather than actually seeing the crowd, hearing their cheers but with eyes solely focused on the finish line.

This photo captures it all: joy, pride, exhaustion, and the unbelievable
feeling that I set out to do something hard and I did it!!

And then I crossed it!  Upright and smiling, just as I had hoped.  Under 5 hours, as I had dreamed.  Under 4:40, the goal I set for myself in mile 24 when I needed motivation to run rather than walk.  I crossed in a time of 4:38:33.  The feelings that flooded in that moment were unlike anything I could have expected.  Elation, fatigue, invincibility, strength, pride, amazement jumbled together in a crazy mishmash in my brain.

I saw my family a few minutes after I finished, and all I could say was "I f@#*ing did it!"  I apologized to my oh-so-innocent mother for the strong language, but nothing else could capture my thoughts.

I did it!  I f@#*ing did it.

Finding Time and Honing Mental Toughness

As it turns out, training for a marathon takes a lot of time.  Earth-shattering revelation, no?  Before deciding to train for this distance, I accounted for the extra time I'd spend out on the road logging my miles, but there's a bunch of other time that I didn't quite consider: additional stretching and foam rolling, plotting new (longer!) routes, planning logistics for long runs while still balancing the family calendar.  I knew I'd have to do these things, and I knew they would take time.  However, I hadn't considered the enormity of the mental energy they would require.  The planning, scheduling, and organizing are almost as exhausting as the miles themselves.

In spite of all this, I'm so glad that I decided to train for a marathon this winter.  I'm (over-) committed on many different fronts, but running is the singular thing I do for me.  By signing up for the marathon, I've committed to taking care of myself: eating the right food, getting enough sleep, guarding my mental and physical health.  I obviously should do these things no matter the race calendar, but running gives me extra impetus to focus on my well-being.  Without the marathon as my anchor, I likely would have slipped on most, if not all, of these tasks.

The marathon training process is also an opportunity to develop my mental toughness, which will carry me through the late miles on race day AND through countless other real-life difficulties.  The lessons I learn while running make me a stronger wife/mother/human.  This training plan is teaching me to push my limits, to try something that seems too crazy to imagine, to continue pushing until the work is done.  Because of this mental training, I'm better equipped to handle the numerous non-running stresses in my life.

So, while it seems crazy to add one more enormous task onto my plate, I wouldn't change it for the world.  There are other things on my docket that I'd drop in a heartbeat if given the opportunity, but not the marathon.  That is mine, and I'm keeping it.

The Road to 26.2: Week 5

Mother Nature did her best to wreak havoc on week 5 of my marathon training schedule.  Bitterly cold temperatures swept through the country, enveloping us in temperatures that barely reached double digits and windchills that hovered around 0*.  Not to be derailed by a little cold, I braved two frigid runs at the beginning of the week but decided that the treadmill was a safer option for the late-week runs, including my long run.  To recap, my training week looked like this:

Monday (1/5):  3 mile run and strength work.
A windy, cold neighborhood run with Emily.  The wind made my eyes water, which quickly turned to ice.  In case you wondered, frozen eyelashes are an odd sensation, especially while running.  Post-run, I did some strength work focusing on core and legs with a few ceremonial push-ups.
Tuesday (1/6):  6 mile run.
Still trying to settle on a good 6 mile loop, I headed to a park that's about 2 miles away.  It was not the most scenic route, but it was a good change of pace.  My legs felt heavy throughout the run from the cold and from Monday's strength work.

My iPhone's message after Tuesday's cold run.
I'm sure it was out of it's acceptable temperature range,
though most likely on the other end of the spectrum, at least if my
frozen fingers get a vote...

Wednesday (1/7):  yoga.
Yoga during naptime was the perfect choice on this blustery cold day.  Just 30 minutes, but I felt renewed and invigorated when I was finished.
Thursday (1/8):  3 mile run and strength work.
My first treadmill run of the week.  I began listening to the Serial podcast on the recommendation of several other mother runners and was instantly hooked.  I followed up the run with some squats, lunges, planks, and glute exercises.
Friday (1/9):  neighborhood power walk.
A 4:00 explosion from all three kids (yes, simultaneous tears on all fronts!) made me want to tear out my hair.  Instead, I headed out for a quick pre-dinner walk as soon as my husband got home from work.  The crisp air was refreshing, clearing my head and restoring my sanity - at least temporarily.
Saturday (1/10):  12 mile run.
On the treadmill.  Ugh.  Long.  Mentally exhausting.  Not something I care to repeat any time soon.
Sunday (1/11):  REST.
We spent my rest day celebrating Mr. D's 7th birthday!  How I can possibly be the mother of a 7-year-old is a subject for another post ;)

While yoga only shows up once on this list, I snuck in mini yoga moments throughout the week whenever I could.  Just a pose or two here and there to help work out some kinks.  Though this was a tougher week of training, both in terms of mileage and circumstances, I feel satisfied with how it went.  Not ideal conditions and my performance was far from perfect, but I persevered and garnered some serious mental toughness.  

(No picture of the tree this week.  Since I did my long run inside, I didn't think to go out to snap the weekly pic.  And I guarantee you don't want to see photo evidence of the view from my treadmill!)

12 Miles to Nowhere

Yesterday found me with 12 miles to run and no good way in which to complete them.  Due to family commitments, I had to fit in my long run in the morning, and Mother Nature was not smiling upon me.  The temperatures barely reached 15* with windchills hovering around 5*.  Knowing that my 12 miles would take about 2 hours, I reasoned that it would be unwise to spend such a long time out in the bitterly cold air.  I'm as badass as the next mother runner, but losing a toe to frostbite isn't high on my to-do list.

With the outdoors off the table, I was left with one other choice: 12 miles on the treadmill.  In my dark, uninviting basement.  With baskets of laundry and bins of outgrown clothes to keep me company.  By Thursday, I was 93% certain that this would be my fate, so I had a good 36 hours to prepare mentally.  I knew I just had to embrace the suck and do everything I could to make it as painless as possible.  I downloaded several episodes of the Serial podcast, cued up a few episodes of Friends on Netflix, and lined up my water, dates, and headphones on the treadmill console.  Time to quit moping and make it happen.

My Strava post after the run.  I stand by my assertion that
monotony is better than frostbite, though I'm not sure by how much...

The run began worse than I expected.  The first mile dragged on forever, and I couldn't wrap my brain around the possibility of logging another 11.  But by mile 3, my mind had accepted my fate and stopped complaining about the unchanging view.  I found my zone for miles 3-6, but then my brain re-engaged and started rioting.  6 miles was my previous treadmill distance record, and both my brain and my legs knew it; neither of them wanted to continue past the 6-mile mark.  It took all the mental strength I had to stay on the treadmill because every fiber of my being wanted to hop off and call it a day.

After fueling at mile 8, I found my stride again.  "Just 4 miles to go," I told myself.  "You can do this!"  I knocked the speed down a little, switched from podcasts to Netflix, and solidered on.  Mile 11 was another low point, but I forced myself to kick up the pace for the final mile.  I upped the speed every .2 of mile 12 and finished feeling strong but exhausted, both mentally and physically.  It was undoubtedly the hardest run I've had in quite some time.

I climbed the basement stairs and rejoined the family, barely mustering the words, "that.was.hard." in response to my husband's inquiry about the run.  I was totally spent, yet at the same time, I felt like a rockstar!  As I laid in our dining room with my legs up the wall, I thought about what I had done: powered through when I wanted to quit, tackled an insane number of miles while staying in one place, and lived to tell about it.  I have no doubt that I will face mental difficulties such as this on race day.  This run was an opportunity to practice my response when negative thoughts try to defeat me.  Though I didn't break any land speed records (why is it so much harder to run on a treadmill?!), I am so proud of my effort.  I will carry this victory with me for many future runs and remember that the harder the battle, the sweeter the reward.

What's your treadmill distance PR?  Given the scenario, would you have braved the cold or faced the treadmill?

Not So Sweet Six

For some reason, six mile runs are not my friend.  They feel short enough that I don't spend much time preparing for them mentally, but they are long enough that I can't really fake them.  My fueling strategies are challenged.  Miles three and four just drag on forever.  Why do they taunt me so?

Six miles has really always been my nemesis.  When I first started ramping up my mileage in 2012, I plateaued around six mile long runs for several weeks.  I just couldn't get over the hump - mentally more so than physically.  I finally broke through, but it took a concerted effort.  And six continues to taunt me today.  This very day, in fact, I found myself facing my old foe six.

It was a dreary morning, and no part of me wanted to leave my warm bed at 5:45 to get ready for my run.  I nearly convinced myself to postpone the run until tomorrow, but dreary as it was, today's weather looked more promising than tomorrow's, so I forced myself out the door.

My new AMR gear: the one bright spot in today's run.

The run started off fine enough.  I was happy to be outside and to have a few moments to myself.  I quickly discovered, however, that I was not such a fun person to be around.  I was inexplicably crabby, feeling annoyed with the weather (not quite rain but not quite not rain) and tired of dodging ankle-deep puddles.  I was listening to a fabulously upbeat and positive podcast featuring the incredible Olympian and mother runner Deena Kastor, yet I couldn't stop myself from spiraling further into a funk.

Around mile four, I challenged myself to finish with negative splits, an attempt to salvage something useful from the gloomy morning.  That idea changed my mental focus enough that I could (finally!) settle into the run.  And I did it!  I managed to finish with a strong effort and completed the run with picture-perfect negative splits.

All's well that ends well, but I hope I can improve my relationship with that number which is afraid of seven (you know the joke, right?).  I have many midweek six's on deck in this training cycle, and I certainly don't want to suffer through each of them the way I suffered through today's run.  Is there any particular distance that taunts you?  How do you power through those tough runs?

Nightmares and Mental Toughness

With marathon training beginning in one week, I experienced my first marathon stress dream last night.  Buckle up for a crazy recap of an even crazier dream.  The dream race began at 10:00 (totally normal, right?!), and I absurdly decided to run the half marathon, which had an earlier start time, as a warm-up for the full.  I had a bit of downtime between the end of the half and the start of the full, but I never stopped my watch.  Therefore, when I finally started my 26.2, the numbers on my watch were totally meaningless.  Yet somehow that didn't seem overly stressful to my dream self.  I ended up stopping by my house several times during the race (though it is, of course, nowhere near the course), lollygagging about looking for another shirt and different socks.  I considered taking a shower, too, but fortunately, had the presence of mind to jump back into the race instead.  Though the dream seemed to last forever, I woke up before crossing the finish line, which only made things all the more frustrating.

The dream left me feeling defeated.  Why did I lack such focus during the race?  Why did I make such terrible decisions on race day?  And I couldn't even stay on the course throughout the race?!  Is my psyche trying to tell me that I can't do this?

With memories of the faux race still in my head, I laced up for a rare daylight run.  The weather was picture-perfect with sunny blue skies.  Despite the lovely the weather, however, I couldn't get out of my head and escape the defeated feeling of the dream.  The entire run felt like a mental battle, and I was tempted to call it a day after just two miles.  But I refused to accept defeat.  I forced myself to finish the distance I had planned, and I even managed to squeak out negative splits.

It was definitely a day for building mental toughness.  I know I will hit low points such as this again during training and most likely on race day, too.  Because I battled through this run, however, I will be better equipped to handle those future lows.  My psyche is wrong: I CAN do it!  And I will.

Mentally tough run this morning, but at the end I was greeted by this lovely sunshine over my backyard. Totally worth it :) #lifeisgood #motherrunner

A photo posted by Kate (@mamakateruns) on Nov 11, 2014 at 5:58am PST

Race Recap: Rock 'n Roll St. Louis

Sunrise in downtown St. Louis as we wait to start the race.

I couldn't have asked for anything more at Rock 'n Roll St. Louis on Sunday.  Delightful weather, upbeat crowds, good bands, terrific volunteers.  Oh yeah, and a smoking new PR :)

Emily and I arrived downtown just before 6:00am and found rock star parking near the starting line.  We took our time stretching, visiting the porta-potties (so many available!  Kudos to the race organizers), and eating one last bit of banana.  Nerves mounted as we waited around in our corral, but overall we were just excited about our day.

Nervous smiles as we hang around in our corral.

We wanted to beat Emily's half marathon PR of 2:08.  To do so, we planned to run the early miles at a 9:45 pace, kicking it up to 9:15-9:30 around mile 8, and drawing closer to 9:00 for miles 11 to the finish.  A thick crowd and an early restroom stop threatened our plan at the outset, but we weren't rattled.  We hit the 5k checkpoint at 30:29, which was certainly slower than we anticipated.  At that point, however, the crowd had thinned a bit, and we could make our way through the field with less weaving.  The slow early pace didn't bother me, as I hoped we were conserving energy and would have more left in the tank for the later miles.

Feeling strong at mile 8.

We faced an unexpectedly long climb at mile 4.5 (with the early morning sun in our eyes), but we cranked that mile in 9:30.  Entering mile 6, our energy flagged a bit, and we embarked on the part of the course that did not have live entertainment.  (Citing respect for the neighborhoods, race organizers informed us that there would be no bands from miles 6-9, an unfortunate point in the course to be lacking distraction.)  We kept a good pace, however, and hit the 10k checkpoint at 58:58.  Mile 8 brought us to a familiar park where our families were waiting for us.  Seeing their happy faces and stopping for a quick hug gave us an extra spring in our step.  We logged the next two miles at about 9:20 each, and we agreed to try to hang at that pace until the mile 12 marker.

My sweet cheering section :)

While miles 1-6 were rather urban, starting in downtown and then traversing some industrial areas, miles 7-12 took us through beautiful neighborhoods and along well-maintained parks, and many of the residents came out to cheer us on.  As we were kicking up the intensity of our effort, I was grateful for the distraction of lovely houses and cheering fans.  The band at mile 11 was my favorite of the course, for no other reason than their rendition of "Run Around Sue" made my heart happy and gave my tired legs a little extra pep.

As we planned, I pushed the pace as soon as we passed the mile 12 sign.  Emily stayed a step behind me but promised that she was ok.  Mile 12 took us across an overpass into downtown, and the view of downtown and the other runners in the field was fabulous.  Pushing uphill at the end of that mile, however, I could tell that my energy was waning.  We saw my parents right at the 13-mile mark, and I mustered a smile and a wave for them.  As we neared the why-does-it-still-seem-so-faraway finish line, Emily stepped ahead and took the lead.  "Let's go," she said.  "Let's get it!"  I didn't know I had any gas left in the tank, but I found just enough to turn in a strong finish alongside her.  We couldn't believe our eyes when we saw the official time: 2:03:58!  More than 4 minutes faster than her previous record, and 8:21 faster than our April race.

This giant street marking totally messed with my carb-starved brain.
This faux finish was at the 13-mile mark, and that final .1 seemed endless...

Full of pride and finish line adrenaline, we walked to the car discussing possibilities for our next race.  One good finish line deserves another, right?  We will plot our spring race soon enough, but for now, I'm going to bottle up the excitement of this finish and savor the sweetness of hard-earned victory.

Elated at the finish line!

It's Go Time: Rock 'n Roll St. Louis

The hay is in the barn.  The seeds have been sown.  The work is done.  Now it's time to go out and show what I can do.  The Rock 'n Roll St. Louis half marathon dawns early tomorrow morning.

I'd be lying if I denied my pre-race jitters, but I certainly feel more confident than I did on the eve of the GO! St. Louis race in April, my first half marathon.  I know that my body can cover the distance.  I am strong, injury-free, and mentally prepared to face the challenge of mile 11.  I don't have a specific time goal (at least not one that I'm willing to verbalize), but I definitely hope to beat my spring time of 2:12:19.  Considering how much I labored for each step of that race, I am optimistic that I can shave a few minutes off that time.

I'm working to focus on the excitement of the day: running in a new part of the city, hearing local bands, spending the morning with my BRF, and seeing the joy on my kids' faces as they oogle my finisher's medal.  I've logged the miles and finished the training.  Now it's time for some fun :)

Ready to rock, roll, and sparkle!

Inspiration from a BQ'er

I love that running gives me a chance to draw inspiration from others.  I love to watch other runners work hard, push their boundaries, and strive relentlessly towards a goal.  I become deeply invested in their training and seeing their successes feels almost as thrilling as accomplishing my own goal.  I thrive on the team spirit and sense of camaraderie we share as we constantly work to better ourselves one mile at a time.  While watching their efforts (through blogs, Strava, and Twitter), I am inspired to set my own big, scary goals and set out to accomplish them. 

Because of SBS and other strong women, I have the courage to dream big.

One of my favorite running bloggers, Sarah Bowen Shea of Another Mother Runner, set out on Sunday to run a Boston-qualifying time at the Victoria Marathon.  She shared her training with us through various media, and as a result, an enormous tribe of mother runners sat glued to their devices cheering for her as she pushed herself 26.2 miles through beautiful British Columbia.  When I saw that she had nailed her qualifying time, my excitement was off the charts.  I cried happy tears - for a woman I know virtually but not "in real life" - and that feels perfectly normal to me.  After all, I cried when her partner in crime, Dimity McDowell, finished her IronMan race in 2013.  Those mother runners inspired me to first lace up my shoes, which means that I owe them an enormous debt of gratitude.  Doubtless, I'll never be able to do for them what they've done for me, but I can cheer like a crazy woman at their victories and cry happy tears in celebration.

Congrats, SBS, on your hard-earned victory, and thank you for allowing us to share in your journey.  You've inspired me - and countless others - to dream big, aim high, and work tirelessly to make the dream a reality.

Race Recap: Run for the Hills 5k

On Saturday, I returned to a familiar 5k course feeling a bit unsure and apprehensive, but I left feeling empowered and victorious.  In the week preceding the race, I had my heart set on achieving a new PR.  Come race morning, however, my confidence flagged, and my interest in that goal waned. My body was strong, and I knew I could run hard, but my brain was wimping out big time.

Pre-race smiles with Dan.

Emily and I are ready to go!

In perfect, 60* weather, Emily and I ran a 2-mile loop from our houses to the starting line, which felt very good.  As the starting gun fired, Emily said, "Don't stay with me if you want to run fast.  Run your race!  I'll see you at the finish."  We ran together for the first mile and then separated when she grabbed some water and I went without.  We clocked the first mile in 7:58, at which point I was sure that negative splits would not be attainable.  Logging one sub-8:00-minute mile is huge for me; to add a couple more sounded impossible.

I headed up the first hill, passing several runners along the way.  I cruised through a flat stretch and then a nice downhill, logging the second mile in 7:52.  I felt good as I approached my least favorite part of the course: the hill at mile 2.  Even on this hill, however, I kept my focus, thought about running tall and strong, and I passed many people as I climbed.

By the time I crested the hill and neared the 3-mile marker, I was mentally and physically spent.  I was exhausted, and running fast no longer felt fun.  I rallied mentally by telling myself that I do hard things all the time; this was just another hard thing that I had to do.  It was time to embrace the suck.  Taxed but still pushing, I finished that third hilly mile in 7:29.

Coming down the final stretch, I surprised myself by finding some extra gas in the tank and kicking it into yet a higher gear for a strong finish.  I finally closed the gap on a man I'd been trailing for half a mile and crossed the finish line alongside him.  Official finishing time: 24:24!  I blew my old PR out of the water by 3:04!!

The best cheering squad on the planet!
My generous parents wrangled my kids and my nephews so we could run. 

After refueling, rehydrating, and cheering for the rest of our gang, I ran the 1-mile kids fun run with my 6-year-old.  We had a disastrous experience last year, so I felt a bit unsure as we set off.  He wore a cape my sister had made for him, which inspired cheers from many spectators.  He fed off their excitement and had a great time.  We did a mixture of running and walking, as we had planned, and he was happy throughout.  What a difference a year makes!

Super D. and I are ready to race!

After crossing the finish line with Super D., I checked the standings and saw that I placed 4th in my age group.  I finished 75th overall (out of a field of about 350), and I was the 19th woman.  To say I was ecstatic is to say that an ultra is a little race.  We stayed for the beginning of the award ceremony to cheer for my friend David, who finished 3rd overall.  As we were heading away, David came racing toward us, medal in hand.  "You won 2nd in your age group!" he cried as he handed me the medal.  I was confused but excited.  It turns out that the top two women in my group were 2nd and 3rd overall, which moved me up to 2nd in our age group.  A technicality but still a win - and a medal!  I wore that medal with pride all day :)

Special shout-out to Sparkle Athletic for my blingy skirt.
I think the sparkles gave me speed!

I left the race thinking that this PR would probably stand for quite some time.  Now, 48 hours later, I'm thinking about what speed work I could do next summer to try to top it again next fall...  This is what I love about running: it always pushes us, calling us to be the best that we can be.

My Favorite Mantras

When I'm sure I can't go another step. When the hill is too steep, the humidity too high, my enthusiasm too low. When my carb-starved brain can't convince my achy quads to keep moving. At such times, I rely heavily on mantras. 

Mantras are brief phrases that I can repeat endlessly in my head (or on desperate occasions, out loud) to help regain my focus. These phrases bring me back to the present moment, rooting my body and brain in the here-and-now rather than in the where-I'd-rather-be. I find that when I can focus on this moment, this step, this square of pavement, I can survive lengthy runs. When I get ahead of myself, however, thinking about mile 8 when trudging through mile 2, I feel overwhelmed and want to quit. To refocus, I pull out a mantra, repeating it for miles at a time, if need be. Some of my favorite mantras include:

Be where your feet are.

I am here now. 

Inhale peace, exhale doubt. 

Long, tall, strong. 

Forward is a pace. 

Earn it!

Embrace the suck. 

It's supposed to be hard. If it was easy, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great. (a Jimmy Duggan quote from A League of Their Own, one of my all-time favorite movies.) A bit long, but it encapsulates so much and gets me through the ugliest runs. 

I like to have many different mantras from which to choose. Depending on my mood or situation, different mantras keep me moving forward. When I'm feeling zen-like, I love using "I am here now." But when I'm crabby and miserable, I need a kick in the pants rather than zen. "Embrace the suck" usually pulls me out of such funks, reminding me to take all of the run - the good, the bad, the ugly - and appreciate it for what it is. 

Do you have any go-to mantras? What helps keep your feet moving when your spirit is sagging?

My Most Important Mile

My favorite running gurus over at Another Mother Runner invite readers to submit entries for a regular column called "Most Important Mile of My Life."  Last fall, I submitted an entry and was elated that my post aired on their site in November.  My 15 minutes of fame!  You can read the original post on their site, and I'm also reproducing it here.

*******

I’ve logged many significant miles: the joy of my first double-digit run, running through the frustration of a miscarriage, the terribly wonderful first postpartum run.  But my most important mile came during a 1-mile fun run with my kindergartener earlier this fall.

We were all smiles and excitement at the starting line, but our enthusiasm quickly diminished.  After about .2 miles, he had had enough.  He wanted to quit and kept telling me we were going too fast, even though our pace resembled a slug moving through quicksand.

Tears in his eyes and a forced smile on his face, but he was actually running for a moment.

We spent most of the mile walking with intermittent bursts of running.  "Just run to that tree," I begged him.  But no amount of cheering from me would get his feet moving faster than a shuffle.  I pleaded.  I cajoled.  For whatever reason, his heart was not into it.

With only .1 of a mile to go, he broke down in tears.  I showed him the finish line and promised him bagels and frozen custard after we crossed it, but he couldn't do it.  We sat on the curb crying for a few minutes until he finally regrouped enough to run the last stretch.

It was certainly not the run I had expected, but I learned a great deal about myself as a mother during that (painful, frustrating, slow) mile.  I had to set aside my type A desires and really stop to listen to my son.  That mile was about spending time with him, being patient with his frustrations, and persevering when we both would have preferred heading to the car and going home.

A few minutes after the race, he gave me a big hug and said, "Mommy, even though I cried a lot, I had fun running with you.  Can we do it again?"  

Of course, sweetheart.  Anytime.

Finally finished!

The Price of Sleeping In

After a broken night sleep, thanks to a cranky, teething one-year-old, I could not force myself out of bed when my alarm sounded at 5:03.  I snoozed once, then twice, then decided that an early run was definitely not going to happen.  I promised myself that I would run on the treadmill at naptime instead.  I silenced the cruel dream-crusher and fluffed my pillow for an extra hour of shut eye.

Once I was really awake, I knew that I would regret my decision to sleep late.  The kids started bickering as soon as they stepped out of bed with J-Bug sobbing three times before she made it to the breakfast table.  I sighed, wishing that I had some post-run endorphins to help me ride the tidal wave of emotions erupting in our house.

Somehow, we survived the rocky start and had a surprisingly good morning.  Some fresh air and friends helped to turn all of our moods around.  By the time everyone was down to nap, I really just wanted to crash and regroup, but I knew that I'd be frustrated with myself if I blew off my run for a second time.  I changed into running clothes, knocked the dust off my treadmill, and got down to work.

Best.craigslist purchase.ever.

My brain could tell that I'd been away from the treadmill for quite some time.  The first mile was agonizingly long and painful as I watched each second tick by on the display.  I found something of a groove late in the run, but it never really became easy.  When I finished, however, I felt unexpectedly happy.  Although I battled mental monkeys throughout the run, when it was over, I felt like a million bucks.  I was proud of myself for following through and logging some miles today.  It would have been easy to skip it entirely, but I chose to do the hard thing and run on the treadmill at an awkward time of day.  While the numbers were nothing extraordinary, the feeling of accomplishment was overwhelming.  This treadmill run was surely successful, but I'll think twice before I snooze my early alarm again...

Looming Large

I'm planning to run a local 5k in about 10 days, a race during which I made my 5k debut last year.  Which in fact, is still the only race I've actually run.  But that's an entirely separate post.

This race traces through the neighborhood in which I grew up, and I love running along those streets that I've tread since I was very small.  There's one part of the course, however, that is a treacherous and seemingly endless hill.  It starts right around mile 2, and for me, that is always the hardest part of a 5k.  I've run far enough to feel fatigued but the end is still nowhere in sight.  Add that mental low to a serious hill and it makes for a tough race.

The hills are all in my head.  I know my legs are strong; it's my brain that needs to catch up.

I haven't run this part of the course in months, so I revisited it last week, and as I remembered, it felt very difficult.  The trouble is that the hill seems to go on forever.  You can't see the entire hill from the bottom as a curve obstructs the view.  When I reach the point that initially looked like the top, I follow the curve and realize I've only finished half of the hill.  Even though I've run this hill many times, it still looms large in my head.

This weekend, I knew I had to nip my worries about this hill in the bud.  We visited my parents' cabin, which is set in a heavily wooded and highly hilly area.  The hills near their cabin put all inclines near my house to shame, so as I ran up and down them on Saturday, my legs learned the true meaning of the word hill.  I conquered some big ones this weekend - longer, steeper, and scarier than the one in the upcoming 5k - and it felt great.

Digging Deep

Earlier this week, I had a non-running moment during which I called upon all the mental (and much of the physical) strength I've developed as a runner.  With an insufficient number of carseats, I found myself needing to make an urgent 4 mile round trip with four kids in tow.  I loaded up a stroller with the three older kids and strapped the baby into a carrier on my chest.

As we set off on the 90 degree day, I knew my task was going to be incredibly difficult.  I was pushing 100 pounds of kid plus 30 pounds of stroller while wearing a 15 pound baby on my chest.  I tried to find the least hilly route I could, but the walk to our destination was brutal and slow-moving.  My legs worked as hard as they have on hill workouts, and my arms were screaming from the effort of pushing the heavily-laden stroller.

Difficult as the first walk was, the walk home was even worse.  One mile from our house, a tire blew out on the stroller, rendering the stroller useless and forcing the three older kids to walk the rest of the way.  Tired little legs plus excessive heat equals a crabby one mile parade.

Admittedly, our walk was shorter and less hilly, but in my head, it looked and felt exactly like this.

Throughout the ordeal, I called on all my runner's mental strength.  I parceled out the trip into small, achievable intervals so that I could accomplish what I needed to.  I tried to stay optimistic, counting off the miles covered rather than the miles remaining.  Most of all, I put my head down and soldiered on.

The trip was stressful, grueling, and far from pleasant, but I was able to do it because I am a runner.  I know how to find that hidden inner strength to persevere and keep fighting when the road seems impossible.  Without those skills, I never could have overcome all the obstacles that faced us that day.  Thank you, running, for making me a stronger person - both on a run and in my daily life.