Runner Girl posted this on Facebook last night. And nothing could be more true.
I remember the first time I decided to become a runner. I laced up my new running shoes, told the guy I was dating at the time that I was going out for a run, and then bounced happily out the door. I might have made it around the block. It took me at least 10 minutes to do that and I thought I was going to die. I literally thought my heart was just going to stop in protest. When I stumbled back through the front door a quick 10 minutes after I'd gone, my boyfriend said, "I thought you were going for a run." I should add that he said this while reclining on the couch with a beer and a bag of chips. The man had never done anything physical in his life. So I would have been totally justified if I had gone to the kitchen, grabbed the rolling pin, and beat him repeatedly about the head with it. That's what I would have done if I hadn't been crumpled in a weeping pile of sweat by the front door. Of course, if I'd managed to crawl to the kitchen, I wouldn't have even found a rolling pin because I don't bake. Whatever. Here's my point. That's where I was when I made the decision to become a runner. It was not a great place to be and certainly didn't feel very promising. I never thought I'd say "easy" and "6 miles" in the same sentence. But I committed to it anyway. And I never looked back. Last weekend, I made it onto the podium at a 10 mile trail run. We all have to start somewhere. Running may not be for everyone, though I really think it is the most natural thing in the world and should be for everyone that doesn't have some injury or disability keeping them from it. But if you've ever thought about it, try it. Just go ahead and do it and keep doing it until it makes you happy. Because it will make you happy. I mean, first it tries to kill you, but then eventually it makes you totally happy.
10 miles of trail. Sun and 65 degrees. Shorts. Perfect. The first 3 miles of this race was beautiful. Clean, rolling trails. Mostly downhill, but not quad-crushing downhill. "Wow. I'm moving fast. This is such an easy course." Around mile 2, it occurred to me that we had been going mostly down for quite a while and that meant we would eventually have to go back up. By mile 3, I was being passed by the freaks of nature that had started the 5 mile race 10 minutes AFTER those of us running the 10. "Yeah, not feeling so fast anymore. Who made these people?" Mile 4 and we split off from the 5 miler pack. Suddenly it was just me and one other runner. Peaceful. "A lot less crowded now that we got rid of them, huh?" she said. "Yeah, but who's going to carry me to the finish when I fall and break something?" Me. The eternal optimist. Miles 5-7 were a bit of a blur. My legs began a violent protest. There was more up in this section than there had been in the first few miles. I debated with them. "WALK!" "We're over halfway there. Just keep going." "WALK NOW!" "Come on! We're about to PR. Just keep pushing." "We. said. WALK!!!" So we walked. Fine. By mile 7, I'd convinced them to rejoin me in an effort to finish this 10 mile trail run in less than 1 hour and 45 minutes. And since we were back on the original few miles of trail, the up wasn't as rough anymore. I was determined to hit my goal.
And I did.
When the race director gave me this medal, she told me I was awesome. Seriously, so awesome. My response? "Yes. Yes, I am awesome."
What a week! Today's the day I get my email. Today's the day I find out if I made it into the Marine Corps Marathon. I haven't opened my email yet. I'm too nervous. What if I didn't get in?!? ... What if I did? Gah! Am I really ready to commit to this training? Yes. Yes, I am because committing to training is what my life is all about now. Tomorrow our Bikini Ready Booty Challenge starts and I will commit to training my glutes and legs. (There's still time to join us by clicking here.) We're doing the Brazil Butt Lift program and I'm super excited about it. Love how much fun that program is. The perfect mix of dance and strength training. And it is so effective for lifting that butt and toning those legs just in time for bikini weather. It's that special triangle training Leandro does.
And Saturday is the Montvale 10 Miler. I FEEL ready for it, but who knows if I'll meet my goal pace until I'm out there on the trails. So, really, this week is all about the glutes. I'm going to need them to power me up the hills on Saturday.
Let me get real for a minute. (Nah, for real, I'm always real. But that sounded like a good opening line.) Recently my workload doubled. Literally. It literally doubled. This is mostly a good thing. I mean, more income is always a good thing, right? But time wise, my life went a little out of control. I was unprepared for the chaos that ensued with such a sudden and drastic increase in my work. My once focused and intense workout schedule became random, sporadic. I began eating whatever fully processed crap I could find sitting in the back of my pantry. I spent 90% of my day sitting at my desk staring at a computer mindlessly cramming food into my mouth. It doesn't take long for those types of habits to catch up with you. I ran a 10k trail run on Saturday. That was my wake up call. Carrying an extra 12 pounds up and down the slippery trails was difficult. Add to that the fact that my body was not fueled properly and I had lost some muscle tone, well, it was a poor and painful performance. I finished through sheer will and stubbornness (largely thanks to my good friend cheering me on at the finish), but I was miserable. I did not enjoy it. Not even a little bit.
It happens. We fall off the fitness wagon. What do we do when that happens? (This is where you pump your fist in the air and yell, "GET BACK ON!") Yep. I'm recommitted. So, my work schedule may not always allow me to get out for a long run or fit in a 30 minute fitness program, unless I become that chick that forces herself out of bed at 3am to fit it in. And that's probably never going to happen. I need my sleep to keep from hurting all the people. Still, I CAN use my monthly fitness challenges to squeeze in some basic exercises between classes or even while on a conference call (yes boss, I'm grunting because of the squats not because of the new class schedule). And I CAN refocus my eating habits. It's all up to me. And it's all up to you, too. Though, if you need a little support, I can help with that. Just check out the Free Fitness Group Schedule.
Do you have a pre-run routine? I do. I sit in my car. My car with the 13.1 magnet on it to prove I'm a runner. My dirty car to prove that I'm a trail runner.
Yeah, I feel some pressure from the other runners out there stretching and jogging and standing in the port-a-potty line. But I am my own runner. I don't succumb to their pressure.
I don't pre-run jog because, even after 20 years of running, I still believe that I NEED every last ounce of energy I showed up with and a quick ten-minute jog is like adding an extra mile to the run.
I trained for a 5k people! I am prepared to run exactly 3.1 miles this morning. Not Four!
Besides, I don't like to be cold. And race day morning is ALWAYS cold. It's like a law of physics or something. Actually, it probably is since it has to do with the sun heating the earth and that heat escaping through the atmosphere overnight and blah, blah, blah. That's physics, right? I don't know. I don't remember passing that class.
Anyway, I don't like to be cold, so I'll wait in my car where it's warm, thank you very much.
PLUS, you have to get up at the ass crack of dawn for most of these runs, so I'm probably tired and need a little nap.
So, fellow runners, judge me if you must. I don't need to warm up. I have never pulled anything during a race and I am not likely to do so in the future. I just don't run that hard.
Ask a runner what the best day of the year is and most of us will tell you, it's the first day you can run comfortably in shorts.
Today was that day here in VA. Normally my first run in shorts will leave me feeling light and free.
Not so much today. I'm carrying an extra 12.2 pounds of winter weight. (I'm like a bear. I need to make sure I can survive the winter.)
So now the work begins to get back to my ideal running weight. I've got a 10k trail run on Saturday and at this rate I'll be lucky to finish last in my age group. I might end up so slow that they move me into an older age group just because.
I've got the exercise piece down. I'm continuing to build muscle with my fitness programs and flexibility with my yoga. Now it's time to refocus on nutrition.
Need to find your own running weight (or just looking to drop some pounds)? Join the Monthly Fitness Challenge under the Free Support Group Schedule tab. We'll focus on creating one new healthy eating habit each month.
And just so I'm clear, I'm quite happy with how I look. This is not about trying to be skinny. This is about being a better athlete. Stronger. Faster. Leaner.
These two things are totally related. Just read. I'll get you there.
I was going to run a Zombie Run last fall.
I love a challenge. Running through the woods with zombies chasing you trying to infect you? And, dude, there was a Twinkie station. An entire station dedicated to TWINKIES. Yeah, seriously good times. Plus, who couldn't use a little practice for the zombie apocalypse? I want to know what to expect when the undead eventually take over the world. Wait. Undead. That's vampires. You can't train for vampires. You ain't outrunnin no vampire no matter how hard you train. I guess zombies are just dead-dead. And you can totally outrun that.
I didn't though. I didn't run the zombie run. Mostly I didn't run because all of my friends are pansies. They were to scared to run from the zombies and this concerns me. I mean, I've surrounded myself with a bunch of pansies. Who will have my back if I need to start throwing some bows? Admittedly, I'm not swinging on too many people these days, but I like to have the option of running my mouth knowing I've got people to back me up. But clearly I don't have people. And, for real, I am NOT running from zombies alone.
Whatever. New plan. Since I will obviously be the last of "my people" left on earth when the zombie apocalypse does hit, I have decided that I need "new people." So I'm taking applications. We're in training, people. And we're starting with our legs. If we're going to outrun the zombies, we need strong legs. You know what that means. Thirty-day leg challenge! Yep. Who's with me?
We're starting March 1st. Click here to join or email me for more information: sunshinestrongbb@gmail.com.
Every now and then, I have a successful social interaction and I walk around feeling confident and proud of myself until my next social interaction when I start talking about my cats.
(Side note: In some of my social interactions, talking about my cats is not only accepted, it is expected. I am, however, trying to expand my social circles and the realization that not everyone wants to hear about the funny thing Stinky Butt did yesterday has saddened and devastated me. But I am adjusting.)
One might think that, as a runner, I would at least be spared from socially awkward interactions when I'm out on the road running away the stress of the day. For most people, that is probably true. Not for me.
I'm pretty sure it's an illness. There is some major imbalance in my brain chemistry. I'm just....awkward.
Let me give you some examples.
I am one of the few female runners in my neighborhood. I enjoy running alone, but every now and then it's nice to have that social interaction to make the run more fun. Now, there are several male runners in my neighborhood. I've tried running with them. I can't. It hurts. Physically. They run something inhuman like a two-minute mile. I don't ever want to run that fast. Ever. So, I'd prefer to find some other normal chick in my neighborhood to run with every now and then.
I was out walking my new foster dog the other day. She's a short little Dachshund mix. A slow walker. Well, fast for her, slow for me. About a mile into our walk, a female runner begins to pass us. This is where the awkwardness begins. My brain gets all excited. Potential running partner! And she's not running too fast, so I could probably keep up with her. I should make conversation and see if she wants to run together sometime. What do I say? Hey, you running that nighttime trail run this weekend? Yeah. That's a good intro. Make a running connection. Most people around here aren't trail runners, but still. It's a running connection.
As I'm processing all of this, she has passed us and is a good ways up the road. I start to pick up my pace to catch up to her, but small dog stumbles and stops moving. Fine. I do the only logical thing. I pick her up and start to run towards my future new best friend running partner. I had to run pretty fast, though, because she had put some distance between us and looked like she was about to make a turn down a road where the not-dog-friendly dogs live.
Now, it may just be me, but it seemed perfectly normal that I go running up to some stranger with a Dachshund tucked under my arm asking between gasps if she was thinking about running through the woods in the middle of the night this weekend. Apparently it's not. That realization hit when I saw the look on her face.
Soooo, I'm not sure when I turned into a 15-year old boy stalking the prom queen, but I decided to just stop the interaction there, turn around, and carry my Dachshund home. Home is where the cats are and they almost never judge me. Right.
Not convinced yet? Let me give you another example.
One of my favorite things about competitive runs is the camaraderie. You get to yell out at perfect strangers, "Great job! Go get it!" and feel really cool about it. They smile back and yell, "Yeah, girl! You, too!" We pump our fists in the air like we're competing for the Olympic gold and pick up our pace a little bit. It's fun. It makes me feel like I'm still connected to the human race.
But, apparently, those kinds of interactions should really just stay on the race course.
As I was driving out of my neighborhood recently, shortly after my stalking incident, I passed a different woman running and pushing a jogging stroller up a nice little hill. I was impressed, as I had never had the desire to jog with my babies. They were fat babies. Big fat babies. Heavy. Too much extra weight.
Anyway, I was so impressed that I quickly rolled down my window, pumped my fist in the air and yelled, "Yeah! Way to get at it! Woo Hoo!"
I don't know. Maybe if I had just left off the woo hoo it would have been less...freakish. Perhaps it was the unnecessary fist-pumping. Whatever the issue, the woman picked up her pace and placed a protective hand closer to her child. At that point, I desperately hoped she could see the 13.1 magnet on the back of my car. See? It's ok because I'm a runner, too. This is what we do. Isn't it?
So, yeah, I think I'll just stick to running alone and save the woo-hooing for my cats.
We all have a pile of them somewhere in our house.
You can't just throw them away, right?
You worked hard for those race bibs, so display them proudly.
Here are some creative ideas:
Race Bib Coasters.
I love this idea. You can have them created for you through a website like goneforarun.com. For the more talented among us, you can create your own with some tiles, modge podge, and brush on glaze.
(Check out The Creativity Experiment for step by step directions: http://www.thechasinghappyblog.com/2013/06/the-creativity-experiment-diy-race-bib.html)
Race Bib Tote Bag.
This would make a great bag to carry your race gear in. Again, you can have one created through a website like mile22bags.com. But, if you lean toward the more creative side, make your own.
(Melissa Schweisguth walks you through it on her bog: http://livingacoustically.wordpress.com/2010/02/12/making-race-bibs-into-a-tote-bag/)
Race Bib Quilt.
What a great way to keep warm on a cold winter day after running the Frozen Toe 10k! Campusquilt.com will scan your race bibs onto material for quilting or even create the quilt for you.
Apparently this is not a popular option, as I had a hard time finding a photo of one. Most folks go with the race shirts rather than bibs for this option.
Race Bibs Framed.
Frame 'em! That's simple enough. All you need is a frame. Of course, if you're my mom, you will also need clear tape to hold each bib in it's place perfectly aligned to every other bib. If you're me, you'll just throw them all in there and they land where they land. Either way, it's a quick and easy way to display them.
Race Bib Holders.
While I'm sure the more DIY among you will figure out a way to do this yourself, you can order these through a website like runningonthewall.com. The adventures of Z&K walk you through the DIY option here: http://theadventuresofzandk.com/2012/11/23/diy-race-bib-holder/
Race Bib Wallpaper.
Or just paper up your basement, office, or workout room. Probably don't use those mud run bibs, but, hey, its your house!
Have other ideas of your own? Share them in the comments!
Some people hear a forecast of 6-10 inches and think snow day. I think snow RUN. I LOVE to run in the snow. But it's important to be safe out there, so here are some tips I've learned along the way.
Run with friends
Seriously, this is my number one tip. I used to have two friends that I ran with back in PA. We had so much fun running together that I would drive 30 minutes in snow and sleet just to meet up with them for a 5 mile run. I have since moved to a new state and no longer have those running buddies. It’s a struggle just to get out the door on a cold day, even without precipitation.
Dress appropriately
Layers are best. A moisture-wicking base layer will keep sweat off your skin. A top layer that blocks the wind and maybe a fleece mid-layer to insulate when it’s really cold. It’s also important to protect your ears and your fingers in the cold. Just remember that you will warm up quickly as you run, so don’t overdress unless you’re in an area where you can remove a layer along the way if needed.
For a review of some specific cold-weather running gear, check out my post Staying Warm on a Snow Day Run.
Warm up
Your muscles may need more time to warm up in the cold weather. It’s good to start out walking briskly before jumping into your run. If it's really cold out, consider doing some jumping jacks or burpees (yes, the dreaded burpee) inside before you head out.
Hydrate
You don’t get as thirsty during cold-weather runs, but that doesn't mean you don’t need to hydrate. It's always a good idea to carry water with you on runs longer than a few miles. If it's below freezing, try to carry your water bottle inside your jacket so it doesn't freeze.
Watch for ice
You may need to shorten your stride when running over slippery surfaces. I like to seek out fresh snow, which I find provides better traction. Plus it’s fun. Snow running is not a time to get in your speed work.
Make sure you are visible!
If you’re running on roads, drivers will be more focused on avoiding black ice than on you. Run against the flow of traffic and be prepared to dive into the closest snow bank when the oncoming driver doesn’t make room for you. Better yet, stick to the trails. They’re more fun, anyway.
Or just stay indoors
I hate treadmills (HATE them), but some find them to be a great option when it’s just not safe to run outside. Myself, I will just pop in my favorite exercise DVD and push play. (Contact me for some suggestions of fun and effective at-home exercise programs.)
I hurt the back of my knee trail running the other day. At least, I assume I did it while trail running. It is equally possible, however, that it happened simply because I am old.
Whatever. The point is that I was injured. Instead of going to the doctor, I decided to self-diagnose. With the help of my 19 year old son.
We spent about 20 minutes throwing around terms like ACL and meniscus. We compared me to various standout athletes, football players, basketball players, cyclists. We briefly considered how the injury would impact my future in professional sports, but then decided that it was unlikely to have any impact at all and that my lack of talent would actually be the deciding factor.
In the end, we could not agree on an actual diagnosis. We did agree, however, that the best course of treatment was to whine excessively and tell as many people as possible about the pain. My son even suggested that I fall down as much as possible grasping the back of my leg and crying out in pain.
You scoff at our medical wisdom? Then explain how I woke up this morning virtually pain-free. Yeah.
So, my son and I are looking into opening up our own medical practice for low talent athletes. We lack the actually medical training for such an endeavor, but we'll make up for that with our outrageous fees for a simple office visit.
But I'm curious. Do all runners (those of us without endorsements and shoe deals) self-diagnose and refuse to go to the doctor? Is everyone else's response to these pains to ice it and see how it feels in the morning? Because it seems to have worked for me so far.
Trail running is painful. And beautiful. It's beautifully painful.
5:00 am. Alarm. The first thoughts that roll through your head at that time? "No. Just, no."
5:10 am. Alarm. Again. "I said no."
5:20 am. Alarm. This time there are cats staring at me. Insisting on breakfast. One is nose to nose with me. Licking his lips loudly. Breathing on me. Purring. Loudly. "FINE!"
Morning Shakeology (Chocolate with Soy Milk, Almond Extract, and Mint - sooooo yummy) and I'm feeling better about trudging out in the 15 degree morning to my car. Heat. Must have heat.
Arrive on site and pick up my race packet, including my cool new Mountain Junkies Hoo-Rag. Check the weather again and it's now 13 degrees. The sun is finally up and it's getting colder. Whatever.
Line up at the starting line with the sun shining down on us and think, "This may not be so bad." Then run .05 miles into the shade and think, "I'm not dead sure my legs are actually moving. Are my legs moving? I'm moving, so my legs must be moving."
1 mile in and I still can't feel my feet. It's called the Frozen Toe 10k, but it is not just my toes that are frozen. My feet are frozen. Pretty sure frostbite is setting in. That's it. I'm gonna lose a whole foot in this one. Maybe two. Sucks cause I really like running.
Mile 2. Tree root. I think. Not sure because I wasn't paying attention and I didn't actually feel my foot hit anything. But I know I'm going down. I try to catch myself, flailing at air. That doesn't help. Air is useless. I'm down. Eating dirt. My first fall ever on a trail run. I'm assured by the man behind me who helps me up that now I won't fall again since I already got it out of the way. I guess it's a Law of the Trails or something. The chick in front of me says she likes to do a little celebration when she falls because it's so exciting. Ummmm, ok.
Mile 3. Up. Just....up. Sucks. Up sucks. I hate up. Never doing this run again.
Mile 4. Chick in front of me goes down. True to her word, she jumps back up and does a little cheer. Interesting.
Mile 5. Pretty sure my legs have actually left my body. I can't feel them. Not because they are cold, but because they are revolting against more up. They thought mile 3 was enough up. Random words start to float through my head. Words like "proprioception." Do you know what proprioception means? Do a trail run after the age of 30. You'll figure it out.
Mile 6. That's so pretty. What a pretty little pink mile marker. Actually, it's not pretty. It's magnificent. That's the most magnificent number 6 I've ever seen.
