10 times the fun.

So about a week ago, I completed a 10 mile race, my longest race by far. I started to write a post about how disappointed I was in myself, about how I walked more than I wanted to, how I was almost thwarted by a sore hip and nasty blister that formed around mile 6 (a blister that is still healing). Then I re-read my last post from January, when I declared I was going to try and be kinder to myself. I switched gears and began to write about the lessons I have learned in training for this most recent race. It was positive, encouraging. I saved the draft. But then I had the kind of day at work where I closed to the door to my office and sobbed quietly, out of frustration, and, at least that day, did not really believe what I had started to write.

There's been a lot going on lately that has me down-- the Presidential race,  hateful legislation, senseless violence. But let's be clear, I am staying the fuck away from any of this in this blog. This silly little blog is mine, my space (just not MYSPACE), my time, to write about something that I (mostly, when I don't have a nasty blister or sore hip) enjoy.

So here I am, writing something, even if it's nonsensical.

Let's go back to June 5. I was spent/hurting/frustrated when I approached the finish. I wasn't even able to run the last mile without a walk break, never mind the last 3 (it's just a 5k! I told myself...a 5K after you already ran 7 friggin' miles is not just a 5k). Yet, something happened when I turned the corner into the fort (yup, this race ended inside the walls of an actual fort!). The other runners from my run club started to cheer--really loudly--for me. Then I saw my husband waiting at the finish line, like he does. Every. Single. Race. And I booked it. There was a woman ahead of me a few yards and I thought uh-uh, I am so passing you. Sorry bib #1016. I still, it turns out, had a little steam left in me after all. And in keeping with my 2016 be-kinder-to-myself-because-I-am-enough-goal, here is what I wanted to say all along. When you're running for 2 hours, you have A LOT of time to think:


1. You will not be first. I've got news for you. Unless you're an elite runner (in which case, how did  mistakenly find yourself here??), you will not win the race. You will be passed, by younger runners, sometimes by older runners, sometimes by someone who is just running to catch the bus (not that this has happened to me....). AND IT DOES  NOT MATTER. Because, you probably won't finish last either.  Don't worry, bib #1016 wasn't last either.

2. You're lucky. Seriously, even if you ran one of the worst races of your life and felt like you stopped to walk every 6 minutes (ahem, self), you're lucky. I'm lucky. Think about what a gift being mobile is. Whether you can run a marathon or walk a mile, you can do something many others can not. Try not to take it for granted and try not to be so hard in yourself (ahem).

3. Running is hard. There is really no way around it. It plain sucks sometimes. And the old adage is true: the first step, out the door, is always the hardest. Remember this the next time you're out there and struggling (ahem, self): what you're doing is not easy, mentally or physically. You're allowed to stop and breath every once in a while. WALK is not a dirty word.

4. Everyone had to start somewhere. Do you want to run a half marathon? A 5K? Do you just want to be able to make the mile loop around the block? You can, and you will. In good time. Even marathon runners started somewhere. No, I would not be able to run 26.2 miles tomorrow, but I like to think that if I do choose to some day, I will be able to do it. With training and time, you'll run any distance you want to-- you just have to want to. What do I want? To finish a half-marathon by end the of year (gulp, this makes it official). Will I? Yes. Not next week, not even next month.  I will doubt myself along the way, yes, just like I doubted I'd be able finish a 5k or 10k or 10 miles. When I basically collapsed onto him after the 10-miler, my beau whispered in my ear you can do anything. I shrugged it off at the time, but he's pretty smart so I an inclined to believe him :)

Twenty Sixteen

I don't do New Year's resolutions.

I mean, don't get me wrong, there are certainly things I need to improve upon (every day), but I don't like the idea of setting some potentially unrealistic goal. What happens if by the next December 31 I am 5 lbs heavier rather than 15 lbs lighter? Does that mean my entire year was a disaster? How many of us "resolve" to do something, go at like gangbusters for 2 months, then totally fall off the wagon and forget about it until December 30th? And it's impossible to lose 15 lbs in a day.

That being said, goals are generally good. There are things that I struggle with every day, and every day I try to get better. At the risk of sounding like I am making resolutions, I am going to share some of those things with you:

1. I need to be nicer-- to myself. As a byproduct, I will probably be nicer to others, as well.
I think we all--especially women-- struggle with this. How many times have you said to yourself (maybe even today) I'm worthless, I'm fat, I'm awful at my job, I don't know why I bother, I'm an idiot, I'll never be able to run this race, I'm slow, My ass looks huge, I'm stupid? Think about it-- did you tell yourself anything like this today? I certainly did. Now think about this-- would you ever say these things to a good friend (or anyone??) Can you imagine texting a dear friend right now "You're bad at your job and pretty ugly, too"? NO (at least I hope the answer is no), so why is it okay to say this to yourself? It's not nice. I have also been thinking about how it may make others feel. Think about how you internalize it when a good friend complains that she's fat or stupid. Do you think to yourself, good Lord, if she's fat what does she think about ME?? Is it possible that the people around you internalize, as well? If I complain about having a bad (for me) race and an awful pace , how does my friend who finished after me feel? Of course, my negative comments are not directed towards her, at all. They have nothing to do with her. But if I were on the other side, I may think, Jeez if she's slow, she must think I suck. Maybe I am too sensitive (I have been told as much). But think about it.

2. I need to relax.  It's a fact that I am one of those people who considers vacuuming or ironing "relaxing". Housework is my happy place. Really. One of my favorite things is cleaning the house while my husband is at work on a Saturday morning. It offers me the order and control I desperately crave. But the truth is, I can't truly relax. Last week I was on vacation from work, and one day, while hubby was getting ready to go to his work, I said very confidently that I was going to have a LAZY DAY! My lazy day consisted of doing a load of laundry, cleaning the bathrooms, mopping the kitchen floor, baking cupcakes, loading the dishwasher, running 2 miles, unloading the dishwasher, frosting previously baked cupcakes, and vacuuming the house. Sheesh. What's worse is that each time I have a massage (which is once a month-- a worthy luxury) my masseuse tells me to the relax, to which I respond "I AM relaxed!". I'm not. During a massage. It's sad.


So there it is. I refuse to succumb and call these "resolutions". But I do strive to be better. Whether you call them goals or resolutions or you're just trying to be a little better day to day, best of luck in the New Year!

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.