Jan 16
There’s lots of guidance out there for mothers and fathers of little girls, but very little for how to be an active, encouraging, parent of a little girl who’s a budding athlete. Here, a few choice recommendations for those sleep-deprived, much loved, parents of little girl athletes everywhere.
Dec 6
I have a lot of college-educated readers out there. And lots who aren’t. For those who never had the experience, when you first arrive at the halls of higher learning, you get handed a giant catalogue (or, sometimes, a very short list) of courses that you have to complete before you can do anything “fun”. These are things like “Foundations of American History” and “Statistics 101″. Or, if you’re me, “Remedial Spanish”.
As I was back on the path again on Saturday, I got to thinking that I was running through my own personal course of “Running Foundations”. It’s a Freshman Year course. It’s usually one that you wander into, occasionally hungover, and with questionable attire, sometimes wondering if you really should have had that late night Burrito the night before. But alas, because you have made a commitment to better yourself and your life, you find yourself in a classroom (or on a path) at 8:00 a.m. on a day which usually involves sleeping in. And for what?
Well, the premise is prety simple. If you’ve never had a course in World History, and some day, you want to work for the United Nations, it might help to understand where all of the great countries in this world arose from.
Similarly, if you want to be the next Meredith Grey, you might want to attend Basic Hairdressing, while also figuring out how to tell the difference between an ACL and an MCL at Basic Physiology.
And if you want to some day run a half marathon, or a whole marathon, or even just get to a point where you can run regularly ( the equivalent of ALWAYS knowing where that MCL is), you have to slog through the early mornings, or the late nights, and the simple pain – and occasionally, outright fun – of learning something you’ve never learned before.
I was thinking all of this because I’d been through Running Foundations long, long ago. In the tail end of my law school career, I was interning at a large firm, overweight and out of shape, and I was in no condition to start running. But I somehow decided I should try. I got started with the basics, and embarked on a solid year of running short distances before I ever considered running anything long.
I feel very much like I’m back in Freshman year right now, re-learning how to do all of this again. I seem to have forgotten some of the habits that I got into after years of Advanced Running (like the fact that I’m always only warmed up after about 3 miles) but on the up side, I am also continuously surprised and happy to be running again.
It’s like that first moment when you’re learning a new language and you realize that you can say more than “Oui” and “Non” and can, in fact, order a cup of coffee with some milk in it to go! You want to do a little dance at the accomplishment, while recognizing that it’s probably still very small. Indeed, a very small thing.
On Saturday, it was the realization for me that I was going to have no problem getting in a 3 mile run/walk, when I was about 2/3 of the way through. It was going to be fine. I felt like a pro coming back to audit the introductory course, but I didn’t care. I knew how this early day of the Running Foundations class was going to end, and it was going to end well. I was going to feel super strong, and happy, and I wasn’t going to want to crash out (at least not until later that day!).
And that’s probably the best part about coming back to the basics. I do know how this path looks. I do know how to navigate through the ups and downs of a return to running. But in the meantime, I get the great days of hauling through the Common; of feeling like I’m actually FAST (???), and of knowing that I am absolutely in the right place, doing the right thing, to be healthy and strong.
I’m not quite sure what my “advanced” course looks like these days. Will I ever try to run another half marathon? Who knows. It seems awfully crazy to me right now, I’ll be honest. For me, I may just be one of those continuing “General Studies” majors who goes on to sample everything – and that would be okay. But for now, I’m going to put in my time on the Foundations. I’m going to commit to running a few times a week, and to cross-train on the off days – and like any good Freshman, I’m going to plan for some party time.
And as Foundations go, that’s good enough for me.
See you on the path!
Sep 1
Last night I had the marvelous opportunity to go listen to the BBC Orchestra play Beethoven’s 9th Symphony at Royal Albert Hall in London. A very kind colleague had heard me mention that I wanted to go, and when an opportunity arose, he extended the invite. I was thrilled to spend a great night sitting with he and his partner, listening to gorgeous music and that extravagant sound of a chorus belting out the tune we know as the Ode to Joy.
We walked to the show, and covered a variety of topics in our hour long trek from the office. As I told my mother last night, I knew I’d officially become a Londoner when my friend asked if I would mind walking (in my suit, from the office) and I not only said “no, I don’t mind” but I meant it! More than that, I was prepared with my running shoes (though I quickly changed back into my cute girl shoes once we got close). The other way I knew I’d done okay was that I really did enjoy the walk – and even though we arrived slightly “misted” – it was a perfect way to spend the night.
As I walked back to the Underground after the show, I was whistling the Ode the whole way. It was the second day in a row, you see, that I’d had a wonderful walk in the park – and I’d be lying if I didn’t say those endorphins weren’t making themselves known.
So it should come as no surprise that tonight, when I turned up for my first “training” consultation at the local gym, I was still in a decent (if slightly nervous) mood. An hour and change later, with our initial intake done, and the initial workout done, I’m still smiling.
So what is it exactly? What is it about the prospect of a committed program for the next twelve weeks that has me giddy as a kid?
Well, for me, it’s a few things. First, not to state the obvious, but I’d forgotten how amazing a workout is for your mental state. Just this week, the New York Times reminded us of this when they shared the results of a recent study that said that for those suffering from chronic depression, exercise is as effective as drug therapy. If that isn’t an indicator of what exercise can do for you, what is? Now, I wouldn’t claim that I’m in anywhere NEAR that kind of funk, but if it’s that good for those who are struggling, imagine what it does for those of us who are just okee doke? I mean, by all rights we should be singing Odes everywhere we go (don’t worry, no singing, just whistling here.)
Second, I think it’s the prospect of having a plan to follow – as my assistant likes to say, “a proper plan”. It’s knowing what I have to do when (with some flexibility) to get me to where I want to go. It’s taking the guesswork out of the equation by knowing that I have someone to report to – and also knowing that this investment is going to eat up a decent chunk of my cash. I’m putting my wallet where my ass is. And I’m okay with that. But, as my friends and business owners of Chicago Endurance Sports always knew, (that’s you Jenny and Mike) getting people to commit by signing up for a set time with a decent investment means people are less likely to blow off the training group. Trust me – I know that when I’m paying for these sessions that I won’t be willing to let them die. According to the Evening Standard tonight, I’ll be buying a trip to Ibiza every week to see my new friend Jason, and though he doesn’t sing and dance, I’m going to make the most of that time.
So I guess that’s it. I’m excited to have a plan. To invest in my health. To make some good changes. I know, I know – we’ve all seen or done this before. But I’ve never – literally – NEVER – done the training thing with a personal trainer. The closest I came was the great help and guidance (okay, and ass-kicking) my PT Joel gave me last year at Accelerated when I was rehabbing. I had great rehab results with Joel, who pushed me farther than I knew I could go. So maybe that’s it too – maybe I’m hoping with some encouragement and regular accountability, I’ll get back to a level of fitness I’m excited about.
I think that means, kids, that we start today. So get ready for mind-numbing updates full of good cheer about the newest adventure. I hope you’ll join me for this ride, and that you’ll be working along at home too. And when 2012 knocks on our door, let’s all kick it down with our new bad selves, eh?
See you on the path 
p.s. In case you’re curious, the following goals have been set:
1) Lose 25 pounds. (I have a date in mind, but let’s not share that).
2) Be strong enough to be ready to run once the 25 pounds is off (ideally by February)
3) Olympic distance triathlon in early spring of 2012
There’s more, but that’s a start. 
Jul 24
So I got on the scale yesterday and realized I’d lost about 15 pounds since moving to London in April.
If you’re like me, you might be asking how the hell that happened? Was there Dexatrim in my wheaties? Is Greek Yogurt really laced with some sort of fat-burning protein I’ve not heard of? Am I sleepwalking through nights (that would explain why I’m never rested?).
Perhaps. But the real revelation came when I was moving the “I brought these to London but I won’t wear them” clothes to the front room’s dresser (because they were borderline obscene sausage-fests when I tried them in April). Turns out, on a whim, I threw on a pair of REI hiking pants that I had been mortified to try on (note, not KEEP on) in April – and they not only zipped, but they fit. And looked decent.
What. The. Hell?
I’ll be honest kids – it’s been a bit bleak here. I’m averaging some pretty long hours at the office, I’ve worked out once in the last six weeks, and my bikes just arrived ten days ago (they stare at me, balefully, from the living room, giving me a stink eye every time I download a book from Amazon with the excuse that the Left-hand drivers are going to run me over like the American tourist I am.) I’ve been dogging it – only swimming once.
I also made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t run again until I had lost some weight. Actually, quite a bit of weight. Because as much as I know that my weight wasn’t the sole cause of the last year’s injury, I know it didn’t help. So, no running. Swam once. No cycling. What gives?
Well, here’s the thing about London – I have no car. It’s a big city. I walk everywhere. Sometimes, I walk quickly. Everything I do, suddenly, after about 8 years, is under my own steam. And turns out, “under my own steam” burns some calories.
This is a good thing, right? Well, yes. For starters, I’ve noticed that because I run (er…I mean, hurry) down the left-hand side of all the tube escalators, I’m getting quads of STEEL people. I land lightly, and my hips stay centered, and Joel my PT would be SOOOOO proud of how I’m transferring weight from one leg to the other! (This is also a skill you can test by standing on one leg and trying to put on a sock without holding onto anything. If you’re not successful, might I suggest descending some stairs – wide ones – regularly?)
Anyway, I think that this Tube tactic, combined with the fact that I’m just walking everywhere – is just really doing a little bit, each day, to help. And who am I to complain?
Don’t get me wrong. According to my standards, I still want to drop another 30 pounds before I run again (and yes, I’m serious as pie on Sunday). But I’m feeling better about getting moving.
Anyway, that’s the update from here. I’m sorry the posts have been sparse lately, but next week I’ll have internet service at my home again for the first time (with a computer that can keep up) since I moved here, and then we’ll be back in business. For those who are new readers, thanks for stopping by – and those who have been with me all along, thanks for sticking by.
See you on the path -
Sal
Jun 27
Happy Monday kids! I wanted to call today’s column Inspiration Monday because well, it’s a place we all know well. Monday – also known as the day on which our dreams sometimes begin (and sometimes end) for our weeks of healthy activity, good eating, and finding life balance.
It all sounds so impossible sometimes, doesn’t it? I say this as a woman who is currently sitting in a hotel room, working for the 10th hour in the day, about to go to a (I’m sure wonderful) working dinner with colleagues, which will terminate sometime before I begin sleeping in my soup.
But if I manage to stay awake, tomorrow morning, I’ll be cruising (early. very early) to get a glimpse of the Arch de Triumph or maybe just the Seine. It’s a good life I’m in right now, and I’m looking forward to exploring Paris a bit on foot.
As many of you know (and are probably tired of hearing), losing a little bit of mobility has driven me to the slight edge of insanity over the past twelve months. Arriving in London bike-less and unable to run, it’s been even harder for me to find that balance. And yet, I found myself so very, very grateful these last few months just to have that simple act of walking become a part of my daily life again. When I think of the joy of walking without pain – well, it makes me so much more aware of everything we stand to lose.
Do you ever wonder what it might be like to lose that mobility we all take for granted? Does it ever seem unimaginable? So it’s doubly hard, then to imagine what it must be like to have lost it – and found it again.
Today’s Health section in the NYTimes profiles one such athlete, John Carson, who was struck while training a few years back. Diagnosed with a severed spine, he took his inspiration from Lance Armstrong, Grete Waitz, and Alberto Salazar, and committed to racing in whatever way he could, whether that meant wheel-chair, hand-cycle, or – as it currently does – on two legs he can’t quite feel.
He is, quite simply, an amazing man, with an amazing story. And yet – keep reading. Because somewhere in that brief summary by Tara Parker Pope is an athlete like the rest of us – (or some of the more dedicated ones we have known) who is now transitioning to find a quieter, more manageable way to fit training into his life. He’s finding he has limits, and he’s going to work within them. He’s done with Ironmans this weekend (I know, right?). He’s going to spend more time with his wife, maybe start a family. He’s going to go back to “average” training, and an “average” life. But he’ll know what we all know – and sometimes just forget: that every day we have where we are healthy and able is a gift. And that we should use it to the best possible means we have.
So get out there. Go for a walk, or a swim, or just challenge your kid to a game of soccer. Get sweaty and red-faced, and maybe even pull a muscle or two. You’ll survive. Your body is built for it. Take advantage of it. And then say thank you.
See you on the path…..
Mar 22
I was sitting in the Running Doc’s office yesterday and saw he had the April 2011 issue of Runner’s World. There, on the cover, was a headline screaming “Can you be FIT and FAT?” I did a double-take, having a mini-Eureka moment. Had Runner’s World truly published a piece that would quiet some of public misconceptions about weight and running? Had they taken the leadership position one expects of the foremost running magazine in the world to provide some support for those who struggle with weight, but want to be runners? Had they done the public service to really research the issue and present the long-term research on weight, weight loss, and the impact of running on such a life?
Of course not. My expectations were way too high. But even with those crazy expectations, I was disappointed.
The article was a 1.5 page spread pitting two scientists – one a researcher, one the manager of a Harvard weight loss clinic – against one another. They were given 20 words on “can you be fit and fat” – and Harvard (and who can argue with Harvard?) landed solely in the camp of “no, you can’t be fit and fat because you’ll eventually get diabetes or arthritis and, BY THE WAY – not that I was asked, but if you just lost a few pounds, you’d be FASTER!”
To the question of whether a fat person can be faster than a slim person (because that’s what we all care about out there – speed) she answered, essentially “well, sure it’s not impossible – but you’d be FASTER if you just lost some weight.” Well duh. Of course we would.
What she didn’t answer is “what’s the percentage of runners who are overweight who successfully complete training programs for 5ks and 10ks – and feel wonderful afterwards – versus those who are “fit” who do not?
“What’s the percentage of runners finishing a half marathon who just “threw one off” becuase they’re “fit” – versus the percentage who make a lifestyle change and train to become more active – thus ingraining the behavior in their lives?”
“What’s the percentage of runners who start with the sport as a way to improve their fitness and even though they see only moderate weight loss, continue, both reducing their probability for Type II diabetes and other complications which arise from a sedentary life?”
As you might guess from my questions, I’m in the camp of “do more, and find a way to get the doing more to change your life.” There are, of course, immense benefits which accrue if you can figure out how to minimize your caloric intake and stick with it. But to the Researcher’s point in the piece, Americans have largely failed to figure out how to do that in the last 30 years. We have figured out, though, how to be more active.
Fix what you can. Focus on the exercise. That’s my platform in the Fit and Fat wars, and I’m sticking with it.
On a side note, I’d also say that I’m tired of seeing people use the word “fat”. If you look at the history of this blog, you’ll see that I’ve used that word twice in two years. I think it’s demeaning, and I hate it. Yes, I said it. I might use it self-deprecatingly when I’m feeling really low, but in my mind, there are enough people who are out there judging. We don’t need to judge ourselves any more than we already do. So this week, do me the favor of maybe reading that article above – and then thinking about all the ways in which your FIT life overcomes your F*T life. If I know most of you, it’s going to be a blowout.
See you on the path.
Feb 12
Special correspondent Kristin Maquire writes: I’ve never done a special report on underwear before, but with Christiane Amanpour busy in Egypt, I raised my hand for this opportunity to investigate a recent incident that made me wonder: am I making the right choices to protect my lady parts (and myself from sheer mortification)?
Jan 11
At the beginning of each year, we’re all laced with some super-potent exercise cocktail. Evolution (or perhaps our innate nature which lets hope spring eternal every winter) makes us believe this year will be better. This plan will work. These things will stick.
Sometimes they do – but sometimes, little things get in our way. We’re all grownups with schedules and obligations and habits that we drag around. So how do you hurdle them to find your inner athlete?
I’ve been thinking about this as I struggle to find a rhythm that works for me again for “getting moving”. A few weeks back I received the rather tough news that my lingering foot issue is apparently here to stay, and having been summarily benched from running – and even (GASP) walking any real distance, I’m finding myself annoyed and unmotivated.
So I built myself a pep list. It’s just what it sounds like – it’s a little pep talk – on paper – to remind myself that there aren’t any rules except DON’T GET HURT. Here, then, my ten tips for finding my inner athlete – being put to good use, as we speak…
1. Think outside the path. The running path is my “box” – it’s the place I go to work out, run, walk, interval, cross train, bike etc. I do it because it’s easy and close and safe. But now, it’s off limits to me. So I’ve got to think wider and farther. For me, that means finding an alternate, totally different activity to keep me motivated – this week, that’s going to mean cross country skiing!
2. Think of it like seasonal fruit. Every cookbook you see is organized by season (okay, well, the ones I’ve been reading lately.) If you’re in a climate that HAS four seasons, try something season-ish. In Chicago, that means I’m tempted to check out the Ice Rink at Wrigley, or spending 30 minutes building a snowman, (try it, it’s a workout!) or shoveling for an hour (okay, to be fair, not me). But there are lots of opportunities to take advantage of the weather in a way that helps get the blood moving. Do what’s easy in those situations.
3. It’s not about the clothes. I pay a LOT of attention to what I wear, but that’s because I live in a tundra and when I was a distance runner, it mattered what was on my body for a three hour run in 20 degree weather. But most days, no one – other than you – gives a flip about what’s on your bod. Cover up, or don’t, but it’s only an hour, and really, if you just dress in layers, you’ll be fine.
4. Eat the elephant. This is Coach Jenny Hadfield’s fave phrase (or at least one I hear her reference all the time) and I love it. If you have 100 pounds to drop, you’re not going to see a result right away. Remember that you have to do it one step at a time. You can’t run a 5k if you can’t walk to the end of the block – at least, NOT TODAY. But you will be able to do it soon. Look to the horizon. For me, that means looking towards June as a “go” date, and taking small, meaningful activity bites in the meantime.
5. Stop bitching. Yikes, that sounds mean. But seriously, this is mostly a tip for little old me. I can complain all day long about how much I’m annoyed to be hurt, but let’s face it folks, things happen. I refuse to complain any more about this foot – instead, I WILL find the positive in what it forces me to try as an alternative.
6. Pack a flare. When you need a group workout, ask your friends to join you. Need someone to help you get out of a funk? ASK. You don’t have to ask your husband or your best friend – you can go meet new people, and ask them too. Are you going to a Weight Watchers or other meeting? Raise your hand and ask if the group (who clearly knows how to get to your location one day a week) can meet before, or after, or another day of the week and walk for 2 miles. It might only be 30 minutes, but that’s a HUGE accomplishment if you were doing nothing before. You can do the same thing with work colleagues or train buddies, or that other mom who drops off her kid at the same time you do every day.
7. Have a fallback position. In one of my favorite series, Band of Brothers, I learned about the importance of a fallback position. It’s the place you go when sh*t goes awry, when you can’t move forward – but you don’t want to get run out of town. In athlete land, that’s figuring out what is the absolute BARE minimum you will accept from yourself on a weekly basis. Is that two workouts? Is it 30 minutes a day? For me, right now, that fallback position is ZERO minutes, and that’s got to change.
8. Do something totally frightening. Most Januaries, I sign up for a terrifying race in the August/September timeframe. It lets me plan out the year, and reduces the likelihood that I’ll coast all the way till May with no aerobic or core training. This year, I’m torn because life is in a bit of limbo, but I’ll likely be signing up for another Olympic distance triathlon in that range. Is it because I like killing myself? No. Will I necessarily finish? Nope. But I WILL train like a devil and get back in the pool, and for me, that’s what matters today. That race scares the ever-living crap out of me, and it consistently does the trick of getting me moving. Maybe, for you, that’s signing up to take Tennis lessons, or learning how to play Ultimate Frisbee. Maybe it’s racquetball or basketball or a volleyball team. What frightens you is personal – think about it, and use it to make you move.
9. Pay it forward. Find a way to make your movement meaningful, and you’ll likely stick with it longer. Maybe it means bringing a friend on walks with you. Maybe it’s running or walking for a cause. But if you reach out and help others, you’ll be more likely to finsih whatever you’ve completed, because it’s not about you – it’s about someone else. And if you’re like me, you’re frequently far more likely to not want to let someone ELSE down than you are to pay attention to your own little needs
10. Accept that you will be humbled. We are not all born athletes. We have to learn how to do things. We will fail. We will fall off bikes, we will sprain ankles, and we will look really, really stupid at times. But all of those things will make us better at our sport of choice, and with muscle memory and learning, we’ll get better. Really, we will. It won’t always feel like this. The same goes for your aerobic capacity. We’re like gas tanks – if you’ve been draining the lungs with no activity for awhile, it’s going to take a bit of work – every day work – to get them functioning right on demand. So don’t get all mad when you’re huffing and puffing (or sweating or red-faced). It’s a badge of honor, and it just says ‘hey, I’m new here.’ It’s a good thing.
And on that note, kids, I’m off to relax a bit….have a great night!
7.
Nov 3
This past Sunday, I had the great opportunity to run off a few of the Kit Kats which had been calling me home this Halloween season. The Chicago Monster Dash (complete with a lovely stained glass medal) beckoned, and I obliged.
With registration in hand (there’s a good story behind that), I hit Grant Park on a gorgeous fall day, just as the Half Marathon crew was taking off around 8:00 a.m. If you saw me wandering over to the start line Sunday morning, you might have thought that I was just another lame-o without a costume, getting ready to knock out three miles. And I was. But I was also a woman who ran dozens of races over the past ten years – but not a single running event - without being injured - in the past 18 months.
I don’t know about you, but for me, 18 months is a lifetime. I mean, literally, children learn to walk and babble and do all sorts of things in 18 months. People meet and get married in that amount of time. Sometimes, they even wedge in a divorce. In my intervening 18 months, I’d moved once, been through a stint of unemployment (and a return to work), welcomed multiple small children into my extended friends and family, and – and – not to be underestimated – completed more than 30 PT visits and been introduced to the joys of cortisone. In short, I’d been through some stuff.
So toeing the line (or, more accurately, jumping in behind some girls dressed as Red and Green M&M and the Super Mario Brothers), had me feeling a bit stressed. Was I really ready to try this distance? Was I asking for trouble?
I’ve been returning to running slowly, following the program given to me by my doc – but I haven’t been following it to the tee. I mean, really, that would make sense. I’ve also been helping to pace the Chicago Endurance Sports 5k group this fall, and had been running without incident the past two weeks. So part of my nervousness was wondering if 3 miles was too much, too soon. (And trust me, when I say this, I cringe, becuase 3 miles used to be something I did when I was bored. ) But I knew that if I kept to my training, and kept an easy pace, all should be good. And it was. I focused on my “effort level” – how hard I was working throughout – and not on the pace per se – and felt pretty good at the finish. No pain, and no worries. Well, almost no worries.
Because here’s something I didn’t count on: all the race-day stuff that I thought just came with BIG races (you know, the ones where, if you quit, you’re 5-10 miles from home), well all of that was present too. The things I thought would go away because I wasn’t running long – well, they were still there on Sunday, just for a shorter amount of time. But make no mistake, they impacted the way I ran the race, and how I felt when I finished. So here, a few pieces of advice about dealing with the race day stresses I encountered Sunday – and that you’re likely to encounter if you’re just the slightest bit like me!
Remember you race with others. The whole point of doing a 5k or a 10k is to put yourself in an event where you can push a bit with support – and an incentive to do well – AND where you can feel like part of a community as you engage in a solo activity. But running with others means you’re probably going to be impacted by them too. Think about how you’ll handle it when the woman with the double-wide stroller cuts you off on the path – while talking on her cellphone. Or how you might deal with a group who decides to walk right in front of you – four or five wide – while you’re trying to keep a pace. These things happen, and they’re part of every race. The best thing to do is either: decide you’re going to expend your energy to run AROUND them the whole race; or simply try to squeak through when you see a chance, smile, and keep breathing.
On Sunday, I was so surprised by how much I wanted to keep at my effort level – without slowing down – that when Stroller Mom whipped around in front of me (but didn’t keep moving fast enough so that I wasn’t clipping her heels) I took two steps off the path and ran for about 20 yards – faster than I normally would – just to get ahead of her. It wasn’t a great tactic, but it made me feel better.
In other races, I’ve tapped people on the shoulder who did that to me, apologized, and said “can I squeak through?” and they oblige. But it always goes down easy with a smile. Remember, most people are just out there to have fun, and they don’t want to be in your way. Be kind. Or run ahead. Either one works – one is just slightly more repeatable than the other.
Remember nothing’s perfect. Saturday night before this race, the organizers found out they had to re-route the entire half marathon course. People who had planned their mental game around a specific course were crushed by the idea that they were going North instead of South on our lakefront path.
With so little notice, the course organizers did the best they could to create a route that would work for our police force, the Presidential security detail (he was in town and flying out near the course) and the runners. And they did a great job – with one tiny flaw. The re-routed course setup was just a hair long (for the half marathon, by about .4 mile.) Some people who were using it to qualify – or who just wanted to claim a sub-something race, were disappointed. Others were just glad they could run 13 miles AND tack on an extra .4 .
In the 5k race, the mile markers were off. I try to judge how well I’m doing by the pace I keep on each mile – but my “splits” – the pace per mile – were way off when I checked them against the mile markers. As I kept looking at my watch after the last marker, I kept thinking “you suck, you’re never going to make it in”. (Drama queen moment). I did fine, and I came in in just over 50 minutes. So the splits weren’t perfect. It didn’t mean I was going to run TEN miles instead of 3 on Saturday. I was just not going to be FULLY AWARE of every component on the course. So what? I still finished and had a great medal. And that’s something to remember when you’re on the course. Porta potties will be locked sometimes. Pacers will not keep their pace. Drawbridges may go up (as happened on Sunday). It’s about keeping your cool – and your perspective on this. It’s just. a. run. Yes, you’re going to be thrown by it, but if you practice the mantra that “Sh*t happens” or “There is nothing I can do about THAT in THIS moment” you will have a much easier race.
Find the joy. When your’e in the zone – even if you’re a big, slow runner like me – sometimes you get so wrapped up in what you’re trying to accomplish that it’s like a tidal wave of coaching thoughts. I’m a golfer, and I analogize it to standing over a balll, with a billion swing tips going through your head. “Stand straight shoulders back tuck that chest in arms loose pull back count and DOWNSWING and through and don’t dip and belt buckle to the pin and finish high!” Jeeminy Christmas, it’s no wonder I chunk the ball half the time.
But when you’re running, it can be the same thing, and on race day, my running mantra goes a little like this: “Head up chin off the chest breathe in three out two and can you talk? and heel strike under your hips and god could that chest stop bouncing and ..” You get the picture. Add in the splits and a heart rate monitor and it’s DEFCON 4 out there and nobody knows it but me.
So how do you keep from agitating yourself to death? Simple. Find the joy. Focus on other people. Watch that couple in front of you as they talk about the movie they saw last night. Or keep your chin up – but take a look at the gorgeous scene around you (for me, this was Lake Michigan, sparkling on Sunday.) Or find yourself a good looking runner to ogle! There are options, people – all of them designed to distract you through 3.1 or 13.1 or 26.2 miles faster than you can say “shoe box”. Take in what your’e seeing, though, and just grab the joy out of it.
It’s that joy that brings me back to the path, every single time. And as I left the race on Sunday, it was that joy that I carried with me. I finished, pain free, and I had a blast. I can’t wait for what’s next.
See you on the path.
