Back At It

Facebook has reminded me that I wrote a blog post on this very day last year, when I declared that January would be the official beginning of my 10k training.

Well, I'm back it. This time training for a -gasp!- 10 mile race. Although I ran two 10k races this year-- and lived the tell the tale-- and although I have five months to prepare, I may be even more terrified than I was last year. Ten. Miles. MILES. That's more than kilometers, people. It's not quite as scary as a half marathon. But still, who does this?  You know what will be fun, guys? Let's pay money to wake up before dawn on a Sunday in the summer to hobble across a finish line looking like a stroke victim. What a photo op! Maybe I'll lose a toenail. Maybe I'll get heat exhaustion. This can only end in disaster.

Then again, I really started to think about what scared me so much last year:
You'll have to start running 5 days a week, they say. You'll need to average 15-20 miles a week. Get used to running 60 minutes at a time. Get used to declining social invitations.
I typically run 3-4 times a week.
I average close to 15 miles a week.
I often run for 60 minutes at a time (and don't actually mind that much. Dare I say I even ENJOY it??)
I do pass on social invitations when I need to.

So, if I got over these hurdles of 10k training, I can get over the hurdles of 10 mile training. I haven't officially begin yet, but unlike last year, I don't feel as though I failing already. I may have two (ok, three. ok, four. stop interrogating me!) cupcakes yesterday and I may have skipped a run last night for less intense cardio at home instead. And I may still be scared. But I am excited, too. I'm excited to accomplish a new goal, excited to show myself how strong I am. And I'm ready. Let's do this!

B.B.

I'm going to ask that you indulge me for a moment. I'm not writing about running or fitness or races or pants today. There's a story in the news that I can't get out of my head. You're probably aware of it. Back in June, the body of a 2 1/2 year girl was found washed up on Deer Island. It's taken months, but investigators have finally been able to identify her. Baby Doe has a name--Bella-- and though the public doesn't know the details yet, we have learned that this little girl was murdered, and that both her mom and her mom's boyfriend have been arrested. I am sad. And angry. Really angry. Baby Bella deserved more than this.

*****************************

Hi Bella,

We haven't met, but I have been seeing your face and hearing your story for the past few months. I've been thinking about you a lot, too, especially in the last few days. I actually grew up in an area not far from where they found you. I drive through the neighborhood in which you lived almost every day on my way to work. I always thought that if I ever had a daughter, I would name her Isabella. She would be a Bella, like you.
What happened to you makes me sad, really sad. You were probably scared and confused. You may have felt pain. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry you won't get to grow up in a city that loves you so much.  Mostly I'm sorry that the adults in your life, the very people whose job it was to keep you safe, failed you. You deserved so much more.

Rest in peace, Baby Bella.

Love,
L.

I AM

I'm a runner, but I'm slow.

I'm a runner, but not a real runner.

I'm a runner, but I don't run every day.

I'm a runner, but sometimes I take walk breaks.

I'm a runner, but I only run for short distances.

I'm a runner, but sometimes I avoid the hills.


I'm a runner, but I don't like to run in the heat.

I'm a runner, but I'm always at the back of the pack.

I'm a runner, but I don't look like one.

I'm a runner. Period.

Fat Girl Hiking

A few weeks ago, my husband (oh yeah, we eloped to Vegas. Still sounds weird to say "husband". But anyway...) convinced me to go on an overnight hike. It didn't take much, really. We'd be sleeping in a hut, with running water and (composting) toilets, and the croo cooks a huge dinner and breakfast for the guests. And let's be honest, I'm always in in for the food. It was only my second time hiking with a big pack, and my first attempt at a 4,000-footer--a hiker term for a tall-ass hill. I was excited, though, ready for the challenge. Ready to eat the delicious baked good promised to me.

 As we hiked up to the hut, I kept thinking about how hard it was, but how running was so much harder. Stopping for a snack or to catch your breath is common and encouraged and needed in hiking. Hikers don't talk about pace. It's difficult, but not as difficult. Maybe. As we summitted the 4,000-footer the following day, I kelp thinking how I'd rather be running 5 miles than scrambling up these rocks with 18 pounds strapped to my back, with no party or medal or beer wench waiting for me at the top. By the end of the weekend, I had come to the conclusion that running and hiking are just, well, different. And it took me 10 miles over roughly the same amount of hours to realize this? I have bigger issue than I thought.

The biggest difference I found was the amount of  thinking each requires. Some of my best runs occur when I actually stop thinking about running and just do it (hey, that would a great slogan...any of you in marketing?). The more I think, the more excruciating it becomes. Hiking, however, requires almost constant thinking. Right foot on this rock, left hand on that tree root...it's like a really un-sexy game of Twister. If I stop thinking about hiking too much...well, let's just say, you don't hear many news stories of joggers tripping and plummeting to their death.

There are some commonalities, of course. Each can totally suck and have you questioning the sanity the first person who decided this could be "fun" or "recreational". But hiking and running both do offer great physical and mental benefits. Hikers and runners are all about their gear and gadgets (and, to be fair, shopping is my real cardio). And, I have come to learn that hiker and runners alike enjoy eating and drinking. A lot. And there ain't nothing difficult about that!

Where's the Beer?

I usually run for beer. 
I sign up for the races that offer free beers at the finish line. I joined a run club which ends every weekly run at a local bar. I'm no fool. Running flat out sucks sometimes, and a girl needs a little incentive.

Back in March, though, I registered for race which promised no beer at the finish. And I had to
fund -raise to participate (give me money. please?). And it was in July (guaranteed hot & humid). And it was a 9k (5.6 miles? I had a long way to go. Literally).

Torture, you may be thinking, this gal likes to torture herself (minds out of the gutter please). I won't lie, it felt like torture leading up to the race. I had good runs, I had bad runs, and the bad runs really set me back. How was I going to be ready for this? I should have been training in the heat, but I would always talk myself out of it. Why wasn't there free beer? Why I am even doing this?

I'll tell you why. No, I didn't get a race medal that doubles as a bottle opener. But I did get to cross home plate at Fenway (the awesome-ist ballpark in the all the land), which is way more valuable than any free Harpoon or 'Gansett. Even better than that-- and that was friggin' awesome, you should know-- my teammates and I raised money for one of the most worthy causes there is, the Home Base Program, which supports post-9/11 veterans suffering from PTSD and traumatic brain injuries. Sitting in the grandstand, listening the stories of the vets and families this great organization has helped, it really put things in perspective. Yes, running 5.6 miles (#nowalkbreaks) was hard for me. Training was brutal at times. But it was nothing compared to what service men and women face every day, not only when deployed, but also after they have returned home.

I'll be honest, I wasn't sure if I was going to break up with running this summer. I hesitated to register for some upcoming 5ks even until the "big" race was over. If I (and my knees) survived, that would be the deciding factor. My knees feel fine, and having been part of such a humbling and amazing race, I know I can't pass up running it again next year. In the meantime, there will be plenty of boozey races to tide me over.

Get 'Er Done

June 6th, 10:19 AM. I think I'll try for 6 miles today, for real. Maybe not. Last week sucked. But the weather is better today. I can do it, if I take some breaks. I'm wearing a new sports bra. We'll see where the road takes me. I just signed up for a 10k. In JULY. It's going to be friggin' hot, hotter than today. Good lord. Is that a clown on the side of the road making balloon animals??? For  a bath and kitchen center grand opening??? Why??? He's looking at me, run faster. Nothing to see here, creepy clown. And I almost died tripping over branch. Ok, try to huff and puff a little less as you pass these college kids...not that they even seemed to notice me. Dogs! Hello doggies! Your owners didn't even glance at me. The friggin' clown tries to make eye contact from across the street but these dog owners give me nothing. 
I feel ok, I think I can do this. What did the guy at the flower stand say to me? Not sure, but try to smile...did that looks at pained as it felt? Face...muscles...can't...control....Ok, I'm running the route in reverse. There's no turning back. Well, there is, but I still have to make it home, so... I'll need to stop and walk  soon. Oh the dog walkers again! Still nothing. I thought dog owners were friendly. I'm totally gonna run a marathon some day. Right?! I know I'm moving but it feels like slow motion. Like those dreams I have when I can't walk quickly or run and eventually I try crawling. What does that mean anyway? I should probably walk. Sad balloon animal tied to the lamp post, but I think the clown is gone. Jesus, no, he's still there!! Feet away from me!! Look away, and definitely don't walk now. Do not engage, clown, do not engage. Wait, I'm at 5.5 miles. And I haven't stopped yet. Am  really going to this?? Why are the last few yards uphill? Don't run me over Mr. Truck. Phew. Holy shit, I actually did it, and  totally fist-pumped myself.

Join the (Other) Club!

So you may recall the pity-party I threw for myself a few weeks ago, after an attempt to join a run club. Determined not to be an awkward, anti-social runner (slash human) forever, I tried my luck, with the urging of a friend, at another group. Apparently everyone gets a high-five at the end, and they drink beer together. And wear matching t-shirts. What mythical land is this? Cambridge, it turns out.

I laced up my running shoes, drove across the river, and hoped for a more positive experience. Would this group really be as inclusive, friendly, and motivating as they claimed? I mean, that's what the last run club  touted , and we all know how that turned out.

The high-fives began even before the run, with a group photo. A group photo. Then the organizer welcomed us, first timers and regulars, gave brief pep talk. Wave to fellow runner, give them a thumbs up. We're all runners. She pointed out the leads and the caboose. A caboose? So that means even the last person, the slowest of the bunch, wasn't alone? Even they deserved a running buddy? Is this what a running club can be?

I've been twice now, and both times, I have been the.last.person.to.finish.  I'll admit that the first week was a struggle. The run was hard, and being last (even though I had 3 cabooses with me that night!), well, kind of sucked. Last night, I felt less self-conscious about it (and didn't apologize to the caboose for being slow), but it's something I need to work on, to get over. Honestly, no one but me seemed to care or be bothered by my slow(er) pace. Everyone was so nice, which made me realize that I'm the asshole, I'm the one being a jerk to me. Note to self: stop being a jerk.

Someone has to be last, right? The one upside of this is  that I get all high-fives The high-fives are real. So is the beer. 

The Walk of Shame

I think I'll try 6 miles today. Yeah, if I walk a little, I can totally do it. Ok, I feel good! I'm totally going to run a half marathon next year. Well, actually my legs feel a little weak. And it's hotter  out than I was expecting. Has this route always had this much incline? I forgot sunblock. How is it so hot? Try and smile at these people as you pass them...they did not smile back. Another person...try to look like a real runner, run faster. And maybe hold your breath a little. Ugh, I exerted too much energy trying not to look like a stroke victim when I passed that woman. I'll just run the normal 5 miles. Seriously, when did it get so hot? If I turn right here instead of left, then it's only 4 miles. I can live with that. 4 miles! Did I tie my laces too tight? It feels like it. Jesus, my fingers are swollen. If I just make it to 3 miles, I can take a little walk break. Oh, F this, I'm walking the rest of the way.

And so went my late morning run. I barely eeked out 3 miles before, well, giving up. I know all runners have good days and bad days. I know there is no real shame in walking. I know I need to listen to my body. I know the weather is a factor. (Did I mention it's hot? To be clear, I am not complaining about the weather-- I am not allowed to after the winter we had-- just stating fact.) I know that I've come a long way. I know all of these things! But can we admit that it's still frustrating? Grrr! I had a similar experience a few weeks ago, stopping exactly where I did today and walking the rest of the way home. For the first time in months, I gave into to that annoying voice that says "you can't do this, just stop, no one will know", a voice that I had become rather good at ignoring. Admittedly, I felt like a failure.

You're probably reading this and thinking, well that's dramatic! You're right, it kind of is. I'm nothing if not dramatic. Deep down I know that running any amount of miles--whether I need to walk a little or not-- is a real accomplishment, and that I would only fail if I didn't go back out the next day or the next and try again. And so, I will try again. I will hit the 6 mile mark one day (soon), and because I want to, I run even further than that. All in good time.

Join the Club

Running has, for me, been very much about being alone. I’ve come to relish this time.

Recently, though, I have been itching to be part of a community. Though I have several friends who are runners, due to schedules and locations and various paces and goals, we’re rarely running together. While I pass (rather, they pass me) too many runners to count during my urban runs, they seem to have a lot of contempt for me. I try to smile, but they always look away. In the zone? Oblivious? Judging? Maybe they are thinking the same thing about me? Not sure. But, it’s easy to feel alone, even when I am surrounded by other runners.

So I decided to join a run club. I was excited, scared, intimidated. I emailed the organizer with nervous first-timer questions. I was assured that all runners (even slow, short-distance ones like me) were welcomed and encouraged to attend. The group is large, I was told, I’m sure there’ll be someone running at your pace.

But there wasn’t. Thankfully, a friend had joined me and ran the whole way beside me. If she hadn’t, I would have been completely alone, is this giant group. None of the other runners looked like me. The conversations I overheard centered around marathon training.  There was no real introduction, so I wasn’t sure where we were going or how long the route was, and the group quickly ended up far ahead of us. We were a run club of two.

To be clear, I wasn’t expecting 100 runners with my pace, or everyone waiting for the “new girl” at the end with a high-five and a beer. But I was expecting something…inclusive, friendly. Maybe a “hey, how’d it go?” from someone, anyone, at the end.  I was expecting to leave feeling empowered and inspired, but I left feeling pretty sorry for myself instead. I know it sounds like I am throwing myself a pity party—and I admit that I am. Thank you for indulging me.

This clearly was not the running club for me. As much as I’d like to crawl back into my shell and never take my running “public” again, I will keep looking and give other clubs a try. Updates to follow!

Marathon Monday

Today is one of my favorite days in the city, Marathon Monday. Long before I ever started running (and to be clear, I did not run today, in case any of you had lost your mind and thought otherwise!),  the Boston Marathon has always held a special place in my heart. Back when I was in school, I was mostly thankful for the day off. To be fair, I still get the day off, and it's still awesome. But as I got older, I really started to think about and appreciate the event. The history (it's the oldest annual marathon in the world). The Hoyts. Heartbreak Hill. The energy that seems to encapsulate the whole city. It's papable. And it's become stronger and greater, much like Boston itself, since the events of 2 years ago. I am always proud to be a Bostonian, but never as proud as I am on a day like today.

If you've ever been a spectator, for this or any marathon, you know that the level of athleticism is amazing--and I don't just mean from the elite runners, the ones who run to win. They are pretty awesome to watch, but I'm really in for the the regular people. The folks who are running just to finish, how ever long it takes, and very often doing so for charity. Every age and body shape/size and fitness level are represented. These are the people who really inspire me, these are the runners I love to watch, to cheer for.

This year, I was lucky enough to see my friend, Susan, cross the soggy finish line of her first Boston Marathon. Running for an amazing charity--Dana Farber-- with the other 'regular' people, she is, as far as I am concerned, a superhero. Susan, though in great shape, is not a life- long athlete, and began seriuosly running in her 30s. She's proof positive that running is as much about mental strength and endurance as it is about athletic prowess.
To Susan and all the other 'regular' people, thank you. Thank you for running, thank you for giving us something to cheer for, thank you for being an inspiration.

Stop and Go

I hate stopping during a run. Stopping to tie a shoe, stopping to wait until it's safe to cross the street, stopping so I don't run into the pedestrian that somehow seems to be taking up the entire sidewalk, even having to stop on the treadmill because I accidentally dislodged the emergency stop button....I hate it all. The last time my shoe came untied, I swore profusely and pouted (I've clearly got other issues, people). Unless I have elected to take a needed walk break, I always feel like I am cheating. Sure, I ran 4 miles, but I stood on the curb, waiting for the light to change, for 40 seconds. Two or three times. That cancels it all out, right? Real runners would make up for that time, right (or run into traffic!? EEK)?

Since the weather is finally improving here-- and by that I mean the temps are actually near 40 degrees and most of the snow has melted enough that the sidewalks offer more than 5 inches of passable space-- I have been lucky enough to take my runs outside for the past few weeks. Since cars and people are always factors in urban--and suburban-- running, this has meant many of the types of stops I mentioned.  Amazingly, I haven't sworn or screamed. I have mumbled a few choice words to myself...I try to be a considerate runner, I do, but you gots so put down the phones and watch where you are going people! Also, maybe your group doesn't take up the whole sidewalk? And here's something drivers: stop signs mean STOP. The instructions are written right there.

I digress. I've got issues.

I have started to embrace these brief stops. Maybe I am cheating. But it feels so good. And frankly, what else am I supposed to do? I've got to be safe, and honestly, it makes the 3-4 miles way more bearable. That may be because I get to take a short "rest'"or because I've taken the pressure off myself. I'm not sure what the "official" word on this is, but for me, it seems to be working.

Sweating Like a Pig

Have you ever been at the gym, looked around, and thought do some of these people live here? Do they even need to be working out? Or maybe you've been flipping through a fitness magazine and said to yourself "even if I follow the 'Only 10 Moves You Need For a Firm Butt' or 'Work Out On the Go: Equipment Free Hotel Room Exercises', even if I eat all the superfoods and then juice-fast for a month, I will still never look like that"? I know I have, and that's part of the reason I so love this video by This Girl Can, a national campaign celebrating active women in England, and featuring REAL women (leave it to the UK!) I could also listen to the featured Missy Elliott song on repeat for four days and never get sick of it, so that doesn't hurt either.

Its been making it's way across the interwebs and may have popped up in your newsfeed. If you haven't watched it already, it's worth a look. Just try and avoid the comments section on YouTube, which is just good advice in general! :)
#thisgirlcan

The White Stuff

For those of you living under a rock, the Boston area is essentially non-functioning and buried under 27.9 feet of snow. Ok, 6 feet. And there may be more on the way. I give up. I. GIVE. UP. Driving? A nightmare. Walking? If walking in a narrow, snow-banked flanked street is considered safe, then sure, go ahead and walk somewhere. Running? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, I needed a good laugh.

Don't get me wrong, I want to be running outside. I can handle the cold. I can even handle a little snow cover on the sidewalks. But right now, well, there are no sidewalks. There's not even a shoulder on the road (it's a snow bank now) for me to run in. I see OTHER people out there (you, by the way are crazy people. Cra-zy. You should see a doctor), but I am not willing to take any chances.

My 10k training soldiers on, however, on the boring, dreaded treadmill. I'm starting to become ok with it. I have to be really, since I may be restricted to one until the actual race in July (maybe the snow will be gone by then). Music is making a huge difference. I added a few new songs to my workout play list that, frankly, I don't know how I managed to run without. Here is what I am into right now:

Lose Yourself, Eminem (oh, there goes gravity!)

Eye of the Tiger, Surviver (obvious choice, right!? I could run up the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum, right!?)

Don't Let Me be Misunderstood, Santa Esmeralda (from the Kill Bill soundtrack, so it conjures up  images of ass-kicking, sword-wielding female strength and hotness. It's also 10 1/2 minutes long so by the end of it, I have practically run a mile!)

Uptown Funk, Mark Ronson feat. Bruno Mars (don't believe me? just watch!)

(I'm a) Slave for You, Britney Spears (I'm a) Slave to This Treadmill

I am always open to suggestions and new (or old) songs. What's on your running playlist??

From Russia, With Vodka

For me, the holidays are not officially over until my good friend's anual Russian Christmas celebration, which  happened this past weekend. If you're not lucky enough to have an awesome friend who lived in Russia and continues her connection to the country by hosting a food and drink orgy annually, let me break it down for you:
Wine.  Cheese. Vodka. Cheese. Crostini. Football (on a good year).Vodka. Sugared lemons. Cheese.Wine. Conversation about men who wear silicone suits to look like women. Borscht (beets are good for you!). Vodka. Wine. Cupcake. Cupcake. Cookie. Vodka. Wine. Water.

I have no regrets. Really. I can't feel guilty for allowing myself in indulge in a celebration. But unlike previous years, I am back to reality, getting my eating and exercise on track, not allowing myself to use the "holiday" excuse clear through June. These nights of indulgence (which will be the title of the romance novel I write about my relationship with wine and cake--a threesome!--so HANDS OFF) are the exception and not the rule these days. I've come a long way in the past 10 months and 50 pounds and I have nothing to feel guilty about. I am stronger than vodka and brie!

In the Long Run

I am obsessed with time.

 It may be my German decent, it may be that I have OCD, maybe it's that  I am a self-proclaimed control freak. Whatever it is,  I  am obsessed. I always wear a watch, I have at least one clock--sometimes as many as three-- in each room of the house, even the bathrooms. I have anxiety dreams about being late for work and appointments and trains and planes. Time pretty much rules my life. Even on lazy weekend days, when there are no real plans, I'm still stressed out about how long it took me to get out of bed, or how long it takes me to get ready, or "it's what time already? If we're going to grocery shop, we need to go now!" It's exhausting. Just ask my boyfriend.

This obsession with time is also  a detriment to my 10k training. What I need to focus on now is stamina, distance. I need to push myself to run 4, 5, 6 miles without injuring myself, without falling over, no matter how long it takes me. But even on my "easy" 3 mile runs, I'm constantly checking my phone, my iPod, my FitBit, the treadmill. How long have I been running? I made it to this point last run in 6 minutes and today it took 7??! I need to finish in 48 minutes, tops. Can I run a half mile in 5 minutes? God, I am so slow today!  It's like I can't shut the time part of my brain off. I know I need to slow down and focus on finishing the route, building my stamina. I know in time that the stronger I am, the faster I will eventually become. In the long- run, I just need to finish that long run.

I know all this. And yet I am struggling with the idea of letting time go, forgetting about my pace, and focusing on distance. How does an obsessive, German control freak deal with this?!