Shame, shame

I ran my second half marathon this weekend!  Training in the summer was brutal, my last few long runs were absolute chores, and my finish time was actually slower than my first half in February. Yet, I am not disappointed. In fact, I had a great race. Crushed my 10k record by almost 3 minutes, ran the first half of the race straight through, and completed the strongest 10 miles of my life. All in all, I felt confident during and after the race.

Confident. To be honest, it's not a feeling that I'm used to. No matter how far I have I come (quite literally), no matter how strong I may feel after a great run, no matter how hard I train, I still struggle with my confidence, particularly feeling comfortable in my own skin. I don't look like a "typical" runner and some days, well, I tend to focus more on how I look than how I feel. And how others look. She can wear shorts, I think. Her arms don't jiggle in that tank top. I don't have a body that is particularly built for summer, making summer less than comfortable. When you insist on keeping your arms and legs covered, you tend to sweat a lot more!  I looked at tank tops in stores, almost buying one several times. I finally bit the bullet, purchased one, and actually decided to wear it. FOR A RACE. Other people would definitely see me, I wasn't going to be in the bubble of the my neighborhood where I'd maybe pass 1 or 2 other runners. PHOTOS WOULD BE TAKEN AND POSTED ON THE INTERWEBS. Somehow, I managed to finish the race unscathed and the world did not, in fact, end.

It seems like a rather small thing, but for me, wearing a tank top in public, running (read: jiggling) in a tank top in public was a big step for me. A step towards getting over myself and what other people think.  Body confidence is an everyday struggle. And, sadly, body shaming is a reality.

A while back, I had read an article about ultra- runner Mirna Valerio (if you don't know about her, she is an absolute inspiration!) and how she was completely body-shamed by a stranger, someone who thought it was ok to tell Mirna in an email that she is a "liar and a fraud" because she is an overweight and a runner-- two things that in this person's opinion did not belong together. They go on to say that  they have seen videos in which she "pretends to run", call Mirna "a joke", and claim she is only trying to promote her "perverse idea of beauty".  The thing that really pissed me off? "You are not a runner." This person actually wrote that.  Um, ok. Way to go out of your way to be a dick. It's worth mentioning that Mirna was in the process of completing a 50k--that's 31 MILES--when this email made it to her inbox. I had forgotten about it until the video linked above popped into my newsfeed, and I was outraged once again. I decided that in my own small way, on my my own small blog, I wanted-- needed-- to do something.  For me, mostly, but maybe for others, too. Because even though this email was not meant for me, it could have been. When you insult another runner because of her body , I take it personally.

So here it is. This is me. After a 10-mile run. My abs are not flat. And there are stretch marks. I have some sneaky back fat. There are bulges around my sports bra and the waistband of my pants. (let's not overlook those interesting tan lines, too!)  But this is a runner's body. Not because it's thin or smooth or perfect. But because it belongs to someone who runs.

For the Run Of It

You may remember last June I ran a race-- the Newport 10 Miler-- that almost broke me, and almost had me break up with running. Determined to not let a bad race get the best of me again--and because I am a complete glutton for punishment-- I signed up for it again this year. Did I crush 10 miles or did they crush me? More on that later....

Leading up to the race, I thought a lot about why the heck I torture myself anyway. It helped get me through some seemingly unending training runs, and a seemingly unending race. Why do I choose to spend hours, in some cases, of my day sweating and swearing and struggling up hills and pushing until my brain can't take it anymore and I am pretty certain I died 3 miles ago? Well, quite simply, because I can. Running will never be effortless for me, but I'm determined to keep doing it until I can't any longer, because it gives me sense of accomplishment like nothing else and  because I know being mobile a gift. In March, my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. When I'm on the road, I think a lot about her and how her energy has been sapped. I think about my mom, whose knees prevent her from walking comfortably.  I think about two good friends who weren't able to run the half they trained so hard for due to health issues. I think about how lucky I am. Don't misunderstand-- it's not easy and it's not always. I don't chant "lucky me, lucky me, woopie!" with every step (it's usually more to the tune of "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck, noooo, why???  where the hell did this hill come from??fuuuuck!"  (Yes, sometimes I say these words out loud. My running is not meant for children). 

I also started to wonder what motivates other nut jobs, so I asked around. My husband, like me, started to run to switch up his exercise routine, and continues to run to complete with himself, to be a little better the next run and the next run. My 17-year old nephew started for the same reasons (exercise...I'm sensing a theme) and has kept with it because he is determined to to break a 5-minute mile (yup, you read that correctly). He currently runs about a 5:11 so obviously his commitment is paying off! Oh to be 17... A dear friend and former colleague admits that she may hate it in the moment, but the endorphins are worth it (runner's high, it's a thing). She comes from a family of runners and hopes that she'll pass on the "crazy gene" (my words, not hers) to her future children...awww 💜.  As Oprah said (to me, directly?) "Running is the greatest metaphor for life, because you get out of it what you put into it. ” Truth.

Ok, back to June 4: Newport Part 2. By many accounts, it was a harder race than the first. The sun was hotter, the air was thicker, the hills seemed hillier than I remembered, which seems impossible since all I really remembered about the course were the hills. And my official time was 46 stupid seconds slower than last year.  It wasn't what I wanted or expected. But I noticed something this time that I hadn't last year-- there were lots of women who looked like me. Why does this matter? When you possess a body that does not fit the "ideal runner" mold, to see other people who look like you can mean the world. It's encouraging. Inspiring. It's a big reason why I put myself through this insanity: to prove that this jiggly-thighed woman with abs the opposite of steel, this fat -girl- running, is fucking capable. And maybe some other woman who looks like me noticed I was struggling, but not stopping, up that damn hill at mile 5 and thought to herself if she can do this, so can I.
Regardless if I have ever motivated anyone myself, I continue to be motivated by all the runners around me, no matter their size, shape, or pace. You are part of the reason I do this. Thanks for inviting me into your crazy family!

(I surrender, Newport!)

Only Half Crazy

It's official. I am a half-marathoner. I need to let that sink in for a second.
Three years ago, I started running on a whim, and I couldn't even make the 2 mile loop around the block without walking. I vividly remember run/walking 2.62 miles on the first anniversary of the marathon bombings in 2014, which was the longest distance I had ever completed to date.
And here I am. 

The weeks leading up to yesterday's race were rough. I logged the long miles, but doubted myself each step of the way. I ran in snow, rain, in 50 degree weather, in 80 degree weather, and even on a treadmill, but wondered how prepared I was. I dreamed about the race. I mentioned it to anyone I talked to, really. Like somehow if I told as many people as possible, I would be held accountable to actually do it. I freaked out. I felt sick. I was excited. Then nauseous. I was in denial of hard it would be. I accepted that it would take me however long it took me. I furiously calculated every possibly finish time in my head based how I thought each section of the race would go. I was driving myself nuts. Ok, I was driving everyone nuts!

By the time I got to the starting line, I had calmed down. I had a plan, to go out slow for the first 3 miles or so. I kept checking my pace, and I was going too fast. I tried to slow down. I told myself, run the first 5k through then stop for water. 3 miles passed, 4 miles passed, then 5....where the hell was this water stop?! Just after the 5-mile marker, I took a brief water break. I crushed the first 6 miles, honestly. I was feeling strong AF. And it was at that moment that I became acutely aware of what was actually going on and how much further I needed to go. I had somehow forgotten this was an actual half marathon and now I could not escape. (I was also very aware of a blister forming...I never get blisters in training, but they love fucking with me on race day.) I took a few more walk/water breaks, but finished as strongly as I could. I did not have the energy to sprint to the finish; I manged to raise my arms in victory with much, much effort. I was amazed I was still upright. Then I cried.

If you recall from my last long-distance race in June, I was overcome by a great deal of disappointment that led to a relatively long running rut. I dissected that race way way too much, when I should have been enjoying the moment. I promise I feel differently this time. But indulge me for a moment...

• I walked parts of it, more than I wanted or planned
• It was hard, like, really hard
• I went out too fast in the first half, and unraveled in the second
• I struggled, in training, and on race day
• I was slow
• I didn't run every step
• It took me longer than 2 hours-- the "acceptable" finish time* 
• It doesn't count

     (*according to some people on the interwebs)

If this sounds ridiculous, it's because  IT IS RIDICULOUS. So let me dissect the positive.

• I FINISHED A HALF MARATHON

It totally counts and I totally earned that medal.

I'm taking a break, just to recover, but I'll keep running. Whether that means another half, something bigger, or my usual 5k circuit remains to be seen. For now, I am going to enjoy not being in training and getting back to running just for me.