OH HI! It's been a long time, hasn't it? I've written a lot of posts in my head (I need something to occupy myself on long runs, and, yes, I am still in it for the long run) but they haven't perfected the thought-to-word-doc technology yet. YET. At any rate, I was all prepared to come back strong in February with a post-half marathon entry but got slightly derailed. I'll circle back.
For now, let's go back to last summer. While on an after work run with a friend, she suggested we run/walk intervals for the second half of our 4 mile jaunt. I agreed, though to be honest, I thought of intervals as maybe not real running. Let me explain! While I've always taken walk breaks during longer runs, I also tried to push myself to run as long as I could without stopping. I thought that was the real mark of success (for me anyway). Regardless of pace, I figured running 7 miles all the way through meant I was a legitimate runner. Runners run, afterall. And I had read enough internet comments to know that there were plenty of running "purists" out there who considered any amount of walking blasphemy (my fave: "if you walk any part of a half-marathon, you don't get to say you ran it").
But something changed that day. I enjoyed the intervals. I felt good. I was preparing for half marathon and decided then and there that I would incorporate intervals into my training. I bought and interval timer! And a Jeff Galloway book! If I was gonna do this, I was doing it right. Intervals got me through a summer of training, my July half, and beyond. Intervals allowed me to PR at both the 7M and 10k race distances. When I signed up to run February's Hyannis Half, for the third time, I had fully embraced the Galloway Method. Maybe I would even PR. No matter, I was definitely going to blog about it, in total support of all interval running.
The morning of the race, however, I woke up and could barely walk. I couldn't even bend my leg enough to get my pants on. It was painful to sit, stand, or lay down. My husband ran the race and waited for him on the sidelines. I cried, from pain, from frustration. I was pissed. Mostly at myself. If you're wondering what happened, the short of it is that I had been ignoring back pain that made itself VERY known that day. Turned out to be sciatica and after weeks of physical therapy, I am getting stronger and running again. Intervals are a necessity now. Eventually, I will get to a place where I can increase the running intervals, and even run a few miles through. But I'm not going to abandon this method. Intervals runners are real runners. You want to run all the way through? Cool! You wanna try intervals? Cool! However you're running, keep doing it.
(Oh, and this past weekend, I PR'd one more time--at a 5M race. Intervals for the win!)
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
Monday, October 2, 2017
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
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!
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!)
Monday, February 27, 2017
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...
(*according to some people on the interwebs)
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.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
In a Rut
I have always had a love/hate relationship with running.
Right now, it’s more hate.
I think the 10 miler last month nearly did me in…I can count
on one hand how many times I have run since then (which is really unusual for
me), each time painful in its own way.
I’ve barely managed to run 2 miles without stopping to walk. It’s like I
crossed the Newport finish line and stopped caring a little.
Now I have a 5k and a 9k looming over me this July—two
distances that should be relatively easy for me, on courses and I familiar
with. Yet, I am terrified. Terrified that I’ll crash and burn, and all the work
I have done in the past two years will be for naught. Terrified that, as it
seems, I am starting over, again. It’s happened before: I have fallen out of
practice (or maybe out of love) and even the shortest of distances feel
insurmountable, the desire to actually get out the door starts to wane.
I think that is what’s most bothersome now, not just that I
am having a hard time physically logging
the miles, but that I don’t seem to be enjoying it.
Running has always been a challenge, but at the end of the
day, it’s been something I have liked—no, loved. I look(ed) forward to running!
I would be nervously excited for race day! Now I am just nervous, and slightly
annoyed, as though running left the toilet seat up again. Maybe we’re just in a fight right now. Maybe I need to let things cool
off – literally. It’s fucking July people and it’s HOT. Whatever the case, I’m left wondering what to
do. Do I struggle through these July races and then call it quits? What about
the half marathon that I wanted to complete? Will I even be ready for something by the end of the year? Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.
I just don’t know.
Running and I need couples therapy.
I’m trying to do my part. Yesterday, I went for a run in my
old neighborhood. The change of scenery helped a bit. Though it wasn’t a great
run by any means, I didn’t stop on the hills (I do not miss those hills). So let’s just say yesterday was hill training. And it was a
success. Tonight, I am heading to run club for the first time in a few weeks,
hopeful that my fellow nutcases and post-run beer will motivate me. And just a
few minutes ago, I registered for another 5k this month. This time, no hubby,
no friends, just me. That will be a first.
See, running? I am trying. I’m not ready to give up on us. I
just hope you feel the same way.
Monday, June 13, 2016
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 :)
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 :)
Monday, January 4, 2016
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!
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!
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