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!