Age

It's a phenomenon with which I don't quite know what to do.

As I said earlier, I blithely signed on to another team for a relay this summer.  My strategy is to not forecast too far into the future, my physical capabilities for any upcoming event.  Because who knows?  I can still grind out some decent miles so that's not really my concern.  It mostly boils down to vanity, pride, and ego.  

I looked over our team roster this morning.  We have, from youngest up, one teenager, a sprinkling of twenty-somethings (including my son), some thirty-somethings, mostly forty-somethings, and me.  I am nine years older than the next oldest.  This problem has become more pronounced in the last couple of years.  I used to routinely run with friends who were within a few years of my age, so my question is ..... where'd everyone go??

Why am I flagging out here all alone in my age group?  If I carried my years like super model Christie Brinkley does, who is actually ten months older than me ...... then okay.  I mean, who cares how old she is .... she looks amazing.

I wonder, however, when she runs, IF she runs, if everything jiggles.  If she wears longer shorts to cover some of said jiggling.  If she wears sunglasses for more reasons than sun glare.  If she shies away from tank tops regardless of the temperature.  Probably not.  

I read, just this morning, that Barbara Eden, of the old "I Dream of Jeannie" sitcom, (google it if you are too young to know) can still fit into her genie outfit at age 78.  Not that anyone WANTS her to be wearing it at her age, but just that it fits.  She surely looked amazing at my age too .... a few decades ago.  And at that point, she probably didn't jiggle when she ran ..... IF she ran.  

So it's another year of being the oldest one out there.  All pride, vanity, and ego are tossed aside as I jiggle and schlep my way down the road.  Then after we cross the finish line, I will again consider retirement and some vigorous recovery of my image.   Maybe I'll purchase some red hats, wear flouncy purple dresses and big jewelry, and sit in the shade with a tall glass of raspberry lemonade.  My hair can then remain in place, make-up perfect, nails done, and no sweat in sight.  And no more clown shoes, sports bras, and clunky GPS watches.

And no more runs to procrastinate each morning.  And no more obnoxious hills that jeer at me if I stop and walk.  And no more safety-net from getting fat .... it isn't working that well anyway ....   And no more deep satisfaction after I complete a seven-miler. And no more thrill of being on a team, cheering each other on, and strutting our medals afterwards.  

And then I'll be just a little bit sad.  But I can reunite with people my age.  Maybe Christie will want to hang out.  She probably looks great in purple.

Still here

..... with no idea what to say.

So how about a running update?  I'm trying to ramp up my lagging miles and for one simple reason .... I've GOT to.  And it's my own dumb fault.  I let emotion entice me into volunteering to do another relay this summer.  Can there BE anything more bothersome than emotions?  They get me into trouble much too often, as in .....

Last week:  "It sounds SO FUN!  I can't be left out!  All those fun people!  It was a BLAST last time!  I WANT to do it!" 

So I sign up for the race/relay/whatever.  Then (inevitably) ......

This week:  "Gads!!  What was I thinking??  It's TOO hard!  I'm TOO old!  Now I have to TRAIN!  DANG IT!!"  

At least Favorite First DIL and Favorite Third Son are planning to do the relay with me.  It'll be their first, and I will be, as the expression says, showing them the ropes, so to speak ..... ha!  As if.  Also Favorite Daughter will be on a nearby team.  So in case I expire on the side of the road, there will be next-of-kin handy to deal with my remains.   

Sooooo, I got a whopping 10.5 miles in this last week.   Pretty sad considering I used to do 20 miles EVERY stinkin' week.  Without fail.  This time I am blaming the weather.  And an unexpected trip to Seattle.  And waffles .... never mind.  

BUT yesterday I ran two miles in the rain, which is significant because it was raining before I started, and I WENT ANYWAY.  A good sign!  A glimmer of hope .... and .... it's spring.  

Other than that, not much else is new in my life of running.  No cool new shoes or spiffy running accessories.  No collisions with motor vehicles.  No milestones.  Nothing on which to brag.  Still just schlepping along the same ol' sidewalks.   And in one last desperate attempt to perk up this drab post, here is my latest BEST running song, courtesy of above-mentioned Favorite First DIL.   (Thanks Lora!)  Warning:  If you are determined to hang onto a gloomy mood, do NOT click on it.

Hoka What-What??

I have new shoes.  They aren't Adidas, Mizunos, Nikes, or any other of those impressively macho brand names.  They are Hoka One Ones.  There MUST be a story to that name, but I don't have a clue.  In several years of Runner's World magazine, I've never seen them mentioned.

Favorite First DIL (daughter-in-law, for those of you who have yet to enter the world of communicating in initials) first mentioned these shoes, which she learned about from someone in her town "who knows".  Google helpfully produced a picture and I was intrigued.  They looked cushy.  I LOVE cushy.  None of that minimalist stuff for me.  I'd strap pillows under my feet if they didn't create drag.  But the nearest dealer was in Renton, Washington, a good three or more hours away.

So weeks later, on a trip north to Seattle, Patient Husband kindly detoured us through Renton.  Just to try a pair on.  That way I could know if I like them and check sizes in case I decide to order a pair online.  I really didn't intend to buy anything.  Husband dropped me off and left to check out a nearby electronics store.  Well, they had a few pairs on sale -- last season's I guess .... in what I thought was my size.  What else can you do, when they are reduced $65?  I bought the shoes.

When Husband saw them, he subtly and discreetly noted their gargantuan size.

"They're HUGE!!" he blurted.

Hmmm ..... well, yes ...... he was right.  But they're size 10 and my old Asics were 10.5.  At this point, my Inner Vanity now demands that we're all perfectly clear that I don't have big feet.  I'm willing to repeat that if necessary.  In other shoes, I wear 8.5, a size so normal it's boring ..... but over the years, having destroyed more toenails than I can count, my running shoe size has grown.  And Hoka One Ones seem to run large anyway, in addition to being quite wide and boxy.  So it is descriptively accurate to say that I now run in ......

clown shoes.

CUSHY clown shoes.   I can run over rocks and hardly feel them.  They ALMOST rank the AWE factor of my Tempur-Pedic mattress ...... almost.  (And not much in this world compares to my bed.)

So look out Fashion Police.  Go ahead and laugh.  I don't care ..... much ..... well, except that same Inner Vanity is now threatening to revolt.  But at least my feet are happy and my toenails may survive the year.

**************

P.S.  For Susette, since she asked.

Considering the state of my hair this morning, this is all you get in this shot.

Update!  I have since learned that they are pronounced Hoka Onay Onay.  It's from the Maori language, and means "Time to fly"!  Gotta love that!

Is it just me?

Running messes with my emotions.

Example:  Hood to Coast 2012.  My first leg was just over four miles on a gradual down hill.  Easy.  My second leg, however, was 7.25 miles on a mostly flat road with some low hills.  I gave myself complete permission to take walking breaks if needed.  But I ran it all, non-stop.  Each time I thought about walking, the slope would head downward, so I kept running.  Then up the next hill, repeating the thought process:  "I can walk now ... no, it's going downhill again."  Till about two miles from the end and it became a "I gotta do this!"  It was now dark and when I could see the lights of the exchange ahead I knew I was .... AMAZING.

Note:  You may be wondering:  7.25 miles?  Why is that a big deal? .... Let me explain.  Until I started my marathon training in December of 2010, I practically never walked during a run.  I ran my first 13.1 miles (half marathon) without walking, except for the potty-break which we're not counting.  But then I learned that many, many people run marathons with walking breaks -- that it was actually allowed in the World of Running ... and I instantly signed on to the mentality.

And I haven't been able to go back.

 It's harder to push myself on a routine run.  On a good day I can run three miles before taking a break.  So 7.25 was a big deal.

When I finally got to that exchange, it was fortunate that Husband was there because I sank into his shoulder, gulped air, and half-sobbed.   Weird.

My last leg was something around 5 miles and I ran all of it as well.  (Go easy on your critique of my posture in this photo, please.  This was at the end of almost 18 miles total.  I only had three hours of sleep and my iPod battery had died about four miles back.)

(Thanks Dave, for a great picture.)

Another example:  Favorite Daughter's marathon last spring.  I went to show support and to run with her during her last couple of miles.  As I trotted out to meet her, I could hardly contain my enthusiasm for all those MAGNIFICENT people finishing up their 26.2!  I KNEW what they had been through, not only for the last several hours, but for the last six months!  All complete strangers, yet I was so dang proud of every one of them!   I hope I reined in my giddiness enough to not look too idiotic.  At least I didn't try to high-five them all.

Another example:  I've mentioned this before, but almost every time I run a race with other people .... not just a fun run ..... but an organized race ... I nearly burst with:  1. Love for the world,  2. Kinship with all present,  3. Knee-buckling GRATITUDE that I can DO this, and ... 4. The false perception that I feel GOOD and can run for miles and miles!  Of course it all melts off after about five minutes and I begin to wonder why the heck I keep doing this whole stupid running thing.

Then there's my music playlist.  Each song was carefully chosen.  And they are now mine.  You see, when you run to a song enough times, you can somehow take credit for it.   And the song becomes better than other songs ..... until you become sick of it and dump it from your list.  So when it comes on the radio when you aren't running, you feel good.  Because it's one of YOUR songs ...... and you want to point it out to other people and brag, "I run to that song!" ...... which SHOULD make you all the more cool in their eyes ...... don't you think?  ...... oh never mind.

Last of all, I have scarcely any practicality in my brain, when thinking about a race far in the future .... like next summer.  Times like that I'm fueled on pure emotion.  Especially when fun people, whom I adore, are involved.  I'm trying to not leap into commitments like I typically do, and instead give those impulses time to work their way through my thought processes for at LEAST a few weeks, or more.   Because I KNOW that a few days before any event, I'll be seriously questioning my level of sanity when I signed up.

So that's it.  End of post.  No pithy finale.  Just this song.  Which is MINE.  'Cause I run to it.

Sweat, snotrockets, beleaguered toenails, and other niceties

Warning:  Not for the delicate, squeamish, or faint of heart.  You may want to shoo the children from the room.

Okay, I am a decent, refined, educated woman and I have spent the better part of my adult life cultivating that image.  I even strive for being classy and/or dignified and although I don't always reach the mark .... the effort is there.  I don't swear.  I don't spit.  I try to use decent grammar.  I don't even call policemen, cops.  My clothes are somewhat coordinated with my jewelry, shoes, and handbag.  Decorum is my middle name.  Bottom line:  I work on it.  I do.

But running has introduced a certain level of crudeness into my world.  And the former image is waning.

Several years ago I was running with someone who shall be nameless, except that he is a sibling ... and he runs .... but I won't mention any names ....  Anyway, he did what I have seen cyclists do ... who shall also remain nameless .... which is to relieve a drippy nose by holding one nostril closed and blowing out the other, in the general direction of the local flora along the way.  I noted that he seemed quite casual about it.

Many months later during a routine run, after I finally tired of carrying a wad of kleenex in my pockets, or stuffed into my sleeve, or in my gloves .... we're talking wintertime here .... I, after carefully checking to make sure NO ONE would see, ..... tried it.  I did.  ..... And it was amazing!  It worked!  Wow.  Freedom.  In case you are in a state of shock and dealing with mental pictures, just know that I never aim for pavement.  And I remain profoundly judgmental of men who spit in public and leave it there for the rest of us to step carefully over.

(Okay, the worst is over.  You may now bring the children back into the room.)

And then there's sweat.  Yes, I do it with the best of them.  I can lose two lbs. of water weight in a vigorous 5+ mile run.  And my poor toenails!  I have two that are currently hanging on for dear life, hiding under L'Oreal's "Cravin' Raisin" nail polish.  (I did not make that name up.)  It is typical for runners to lose toenails, and I can't recall how many of my own have bitten the dust.  (I have purchased toe guards and may report on them in a future post.)  Add to that, calluses and the blisters that come and go, and you have feet that don't strut around in sandals like they used to.

Finally, I often notice at the end of a long run and miles of heavy panting, my chin feels crusty .... as if I've been drooling.  However, my friends assure me that they haven't noticed any drool.  But maybe they're just being kind ....  And we've already had the discussion on the lack of makeup and frizzy hair.

Anyway, there you have it.  Running isn't for divas.  It takes a fair amount of self-acceptance combined with increasing apathy for one's public persona, to be able to run openly.  And if you ever see anything suspicious on a sidewalk .... it was NOT me.

Nope.  Was not.

Don't worry. Be happy.

I write solely on inspiration.  If it hits, I write.  If it doesn't, there is a looonnnngggg gap of time between posts.  Plus lately my passions have been lured over to my other more serious blog.  Warning:  if you go there, you will see another side of me.  It may not be pretty.

So back to running ..... here's the thing.  Other than my Marathon Year, the annual highlight of my summer is the Hood to Coast relay and it is now less than three days away.  This week, one and two years ago, I was in serious need of therapy, anti-anxiety meds, and/or someone's strong hand to grip.  I was the team captain, desperately keeping my mental boat afloat.  Being cursed with the need for perfectness ..... I typically drove myself close to The Edge, with worries and last minute details.  You may recall this and this post.

However this year ..... I just came off the whirlwind of Favorite 2nd Son's very recent wedding, shown in Favorite Daughter's blog.  Involved were visiting relatives, lots of sewing, luncheon planning/managing, cleaning, and cooking, cooking, cooking.  Details were stuffed into, and falling out of my brain and I had lists written on many scraps of paper.  It all turned out to be a wonderfully beautiful (and exhausting!) event and this family totally SCORED with a perfect and beloved new daughter-in-law.  And it completely overshadowed the Hood to Coast.

PLUS as I have said recently, I am not team captain this year!  Have you heard that enough times yet??  And the wedding is DONE.   AHHHH ..... do you feel the serenity  ..... the calm ..... the lack of concern for this weekend?  Yes, there are still a few unaddressed HTC details, but whatever .....

I've done my training, finishing with an easy three miles yesterday, and am in full taper-mode until Friday at about 8:00 a.m. ... when I begin my first leg.

No problem!  All is good.  Rest, sleep, eat carbs .....  don't worry .... be happy.

Dedicated to slow teams

In a relay, a fast team is awesome to behold.  You know those teams.  They're comprised of actual athletes, all 20-something in age, and not an ounce of fat to be seen.  In their sport, they are focused and determined to win.  And not just determined, they're confident.  They're tanned and ripped and they sail silently past the rest of us as if we were not even there.    Some of their teams even require qualifying times and are the teams from which the rest of us have no hope of ever receiving an invitation.

That is not my world.

The teams in which I have ran, are not fast.  Oh, we've had our fast runners to be sure.  I want to give full credit to Mark, Ben, Anne, Ricky, and others who have patiently added their low-minute miles to our team's average time and put up with the ultra-early starting times to which slower teams are typically assigned.

I prefer a slower team.  Slow teams have more fun .... in my opinion.  Reasons:  Less pressure.  In fact, as far as the rest of the team is concerned, the only pressure is what each of us put on ourselves.  We know we won't win, so there's no disappointment when we don't.  When assembling a team, we don't look for highly skilled runners.  We look for fun people who run.  The kind of people with whom we won't mind spending 30+ hours in a crowded van.

But the main reason I prefer slower teams is that on those teams, miracles happen.

Remember this post about my 2nd Hood to Coast?  That was the Year of Amy.  She was new to running yet agreed to join her husband on our team, worried about it all year, then ran all of her legs from beginning to end without walking.  She DID it.  She faced her personal beast and KILLED it.  Her words at the end:  "I never knew what I could do.  Now I know."

Last month was the Epic Relay.  We were so slow that our last six legs had to be run simultaneously so that the finish-line party would still be happening by the time we got there.  That was the Year of Carrie.

Carrie had always been athletic, but was new to running.  She was so scared, but agreed to take on some of the most difficult legs of the route.  Her first leg was brutal with long uphills, and she said that when she finally saw the exchange up ahead and realized SHE HAD DONE IT, she almost cried.  The rest of her legs she ATTACKED like a warrior.   Carrie defined herself as a runner in that relay.

It was also the Year of Ellen who, over the past year, had diligently lost a great deal of weight, and became something she never used to think was possible.

And also the Year of Anna, who also overcame personal fears and limitations and showed herself what she could do.

I could say the same for Val, Justin, Anne, Dave, Chery,  and others.  People who may not have been the fastest at first.  People who didn't dare call themselves runners ... at first.  But after being invited into a team, doing their part, and running their legs -- they personally allowed themselves to own the title.

When teams take a chance on beginners, lives are changed.  Beginners who, although terrified, accept the invitation and the challenge, then DO IT.  They prove what they can do to their biggest critic -- themselves.

That was me once.  I remember the fear, the intimidation, and the complete lack of confidence.  I still feel it a little.  That first year when I was actually invited on a real team with real runners -- was the year MY life was changed.  It was the Year of Me.

Hooray for the slow teams!  Sometimes their hurdles are the hardest of all.

570.57 !

That's exactly how many running miles I have put these aging legs through in the last six months.    That's a smidgeon under 22 miles per week on average.  Had I not collided with a car last month and forced into some recovery down-time, it would have been more.   But all in all, my inner-tyrant-training-demons are quietly satisfied.

And summer is just beginning .....

Here are the upcoming highlights:

Mid-June is the Epic Relay.  Same format and approximate distance as our beloved Hood to Coast, but closer to home ..... in fact one leg of it runs right behind my house .... you cannot get closer than that!  It also has far fewer participants, is cheaper and easier to get in ..... BUT .... as much fun?  That remains to be seen.   It will be my first experience on an all-girl team.   I will be, like always, the oldest one in the van.   Some of my teammates are young enough to be my daughters, including my actual daughter, better known in this blog as Favorite Daughter and Favorite Running Partner.  But I am not the slowest which ..... means nothing really.   Relay teams are all about fun and not speed, which ALL slower teams say Because.It's.True.   Fast, competitive teams simply CANNOT be having as much fun as we have!   (Wikipedia would concur, if it was asked .....)

Late August will be my 4th Hood to Coast.  Will it be my last?  Every year from about January through June, I ALWAYS say I'm ready to retire.  And this year is no different, but I've learned to take myself with a BIG grain of salt.  So we'll see.  One year at a time.  We'll also see if HTC fixed their big mess of 2011.  They reduced the number of teams this year so we're hopeful it will go back to being our old HTC that we all know and love.

September brings the Best Dam Run .... my favorite 10K.

That's pretty much it.   Not that that's ALL I'll be doing ..... we have some BIG plans, but not everything involves running.  Yes, you heard that here.

Oh, and we finished our annual Run Run Ye Saints last week and it was a smashing success!!!  A post is forthcoming.

For now, revel in the fact that SUMMER IS JUST BEGINNING!!!

Birds, the Sequel

Just so we're all on the same page, you will need to spend a few minutes reviewing this post.  I'll wait ................................................................................. . . . . . . . . . . . .   .   .   .   .   .   .     .      .     .     .    Done?  Alrighty then.

After sailing through April un-accosted, I thought this must not be a year for birds.  Is there such a thing?  Just like those occasional years of fewer hurricanes in the mid-west, or when the price of gas inexplicably drops below $4 a gallon.  Sometimes it's best to just enjoy those tender mercies without always looking for the cause.

Last year, a suspicion of my paranoia was hovering around in the thoughts of a few of my readers; therefore, I was determined to gather absolute proof that:

Birds do not like me.  

They're watching.  ( You can click on any picture to enlarge.)

Thanks to Husband Dear, and his complex and over-priced camera, we got a lot of shots of me running ........ and ....  keep looking .... it's there .....

Black on black.  Kinda creepy.

Zooming out.  (The camera, not the bird.)  Do you see it?

Oh yeah.  This feathered piece of work, is SO guilty!

More evidence:  

The hood of my car, AKA the Bird Latrine.

That long stringy thing is a rubber snake.  Its intended purpose is to scare the birds and stop the nest-building.  Last year they built their nest on top of it.

I could add a photo of the poop-spattered street in front of my house, but I think you get the point.

So there you have it.  The Evidence.

I rest my case.

How to traumatize a driver

I was wondering what to write about this week.    Hmmmmm .....  What's new in my running life .... oh yes!  Last week I was hit by a car.

Yours Truly was running down the sidewalk on the left side of our town's major thoroughfare, and came to one of its many entrances/driveways.  A driver was waiting to turn right onto said thoroughfare, and since all oncoming cars would be on his left, left was his focus.  Knowing this probability, I usually stop or run behind any cars waiting to pull out.  But as I approached, I looked at the driver and THOUGHT we had eye contact.  Not.  So just before I got past him, he hit the gas and sent me tumbling.  I'm detailing this can-happen-all-too-easily scenario for you, in hopes it will be a reminder to all.  NEVER ASSUME THEY SEE YOU.  It nearly happened to me a couple of years ago, but the driver stopped as I jumped past his front left bumper. 

I wasn't hurt, other than a few scrapes and some prize bruises.  I even finished my run after picking myself up and comforting Shaken-Driver-Justin (yes, we exchanged info) who probably aged ten years and saw his entire life flash by him in that moment.  He would have hand-carried me to the nearest Mayo Clinic and donated a kidney, if needed. Worried-Justin called me later that day and I could hardly convince him that I was okay. He just wanted to stay on the phone and hear me say it a few hundred times.  

I have also gained a front-row education of what happens a few hours after any type of physical trauma.  Oh my.  Apparently muscles, particularly my knee which took the brunt of the fall, have this delayed reaction rudely initiated by Tightening, and promptly followed by a nasty companion called Soreness.   I became a hobbler for a day and fortunately remembered, the next morning, that Husband had a knee brace in his drawer.  That brace has now become my friend and is earning its keep. 

Note the new shoes!

I'm still a little sore, but healing.  The bruises are segueing from scary black to that ugly green stage.  And during my runs, Friend Knee Brace and I will remain partners for a little while.  I'm not sure about Justin, though.  His recovery make take longer .....

Back on ... track?

I've had a brief break from running, which is no big deal really, BUT it was my first break of any length EVER.

And we've all had a sizable break from this blog .... another first.   That is due to more serious blogging on more serious topics.  Brow-knitting, teeth-gritting serious .....

But the nasty ... be-grateful-I-didn't-post-pictures ... sore on my foot that ultimately chased all shoes off my foot for a week, has healed nicely and I'm back on the road.

Today I returned to our high school track, where they are cutting down perfectly good trees and cluttering up the lanes with big trucks and debris.  I stayed on the opposite end and far from their chain saws.  200 meter repeats, back and forth.

Oh, and I'd also like to introduce my new toy!

(Mine is the green one.)  It carries all my music, is as teeny as it looks here, and the best part ..... it clips onto my shirt!  Jacket-season, with the associated pockets, is waning, and now I don't have to endure another summer of sweaty iPod-armband-chafing!

Don't you just LOVE May?   One might question my taste in months because of our unseasonably cool weather this year, but I love May because of the anticipation it brings.  Summer is coming!  It's still ahead of us ... stretched out there full of fun!  And my little green iPod, my healed foot, and the treeless ...... dang, that means shadeless ... track, are ready.

Sprinting and other dubious ideas

A good friend sent me an article on the benefits of sprinting-intervals VS long, slow distance running.  It claims that more calories are burned by short frantic, as-if-chased-by-a-rabid-Rottweiler sprints interspersed with brief breaks of slow running or walking.  

So of course, armed with this new and unwanted knowledge, I am compelled to revisit the local track with my stopwatch.

Track-running rates only slightly above treadmill-running.  But at least it affords me a relatively lesser amount of public exposure as opposed to slogging along on the major highway that slices through my town.  Very few see me on the track.  And considering the state of my hair after a good 30 minutes of running, the less seen, the better.

So my new regimen is to run like all get-out for 30-40 seconds, then collapse into a walk for about a minute, repeating the process until I hit one mile total of sprinting.  This means 8 to 12 repeats depending on the length of the sprints.  This week I ran for half a lap, then walked the other half.  According to my GPS, I can briefly push my time under a seven-minute-mile without throwing up.  Husband helpfully suggests I push it closer to Puking Level, but I don't see HIM losing his breakfast when he exercises.  And I have no intention of losing mine.

The first time I tried this, my legs quickly turned to rubber, followed by several days of hostile thigh muscles.  Usually my thighs quietly comply with whatever I put them through and my calves freak out instead.  But this time the calves were fine.  (Maybe .... due to the recent hint of warm weather and the approach of capris-season, they're happily preoccupied with the instant-tanning cream I've started to slather on them.)

(LOVE.THIS.STUFF)

Finally, an added benefit of sprinting is that it builds speed.  That would be nice.  But at my age, let's just try to hang on to what I've got, okay?   So NO NEED to send me any more articles unless they contain uplifting/cheerful advice such as ....  one really ought to drink chocolate milk after one's run.  And particularly nothing on rock-climbing or hang-gliding, please.

Monday

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned earlier that I run 20 miles each week.  (Don't think I can't hear the collectively bored  S..I..G..H.. and "Yes. We know.")  ........... Anyway, I try to "gitter done", (as my adorable red-neck brother would say) in as few runs as possible.  Usually it takes me four times out, and sometimes three.  It's best to put in a strong effort on Mondays with a good seven to eight miles, or at least six ... five minimum, and hopefully by Friday, there are only a couple of miles left to do.   Dodging the rain and coordinating the other elements of My Life, adds challenge to this routine.  Then I "relax" over the weekend, filling my exercise time with walks or maybe a bike ride, and start over again the next week.

Today, being Monday, I did exactly seven, and it was one of my better-feeling runs which just happen randomly.  I carry almost 10 lbs. less than I did a couple of months ago and either:  1. It's helping ... or 2. The stars and/or planets are aligning themselves again.  When I hit the 6.2 mile mark this morning (10K distance) I noted my time.  1 hour, 7 min.  Not great by any means ..... I've certainly done better, but I wasn't really trying that hard either.  So I'm okay with it.

According to those mysterious people called "They".... who SAY a lot of stuff....   research has shown that, on average, runners get two seconds per mile faster for every pound they lose.  So, for example, a 10-pound loss would shave about one minute off your 5K race time.  Not bad, eh?  But in three and a half years, I've only run one official 5K and I don't keep track of my 5K pace.  I focus more on 10Ks.  T'would be really nice to just do a 5K, but I never sign up for them.  Reasons:  There's usually a 10K offered in the same race for the same price, and my frugal nature demands I get the most for my money.  Plus, I know I CAN run 6.2 miles.  Plus my beloved running-friends all go for the 10Ks.  So there it is.  (I might have to recruit some new calmer-and-less-crazed friends because some of my current ones are pushing past 10Ks and I just don't want to get caught up in the momentum.  Been there.  Done that.)

Well, this certainly was a boring post but hey, it's Monday.  However, when you read that I've lost "almost 10 lbs.", it SHOULD have snapped you to attention!  'Cause I'm dang-pleased about it.  More on THAT soon.  

Just something pretty from my yard.

    

Chased by slugs

Okay, here's the thing.  In all honesty, my major motivator to run has been to stay ahead of those 20+ pounds that I lost over three years ago which have been chasing me ever since.  I literally run from them.  If I stop or slow down, they WILL catch up and attach themselves permanently onto my pear-shaped lower half.  My minor motivator has been an effort to stay within a certain range of fitness so as to be able to participate in running events in an acceptable manner because those events are so.dang.much.fun!   And that's it.  Do I run because I love it?  No.  Only that I LOVE what it does for me.

Since the advent of our 10 week fitness challenge, just over 9 weeks ago, I have been successful in losing approximately 8 pounds so far, placing me solidly in my pre-30s weight range.  Yes!  Ta-da!  But my brain has wandered onto the thought that I don't NEED to run as much.  The fitness challenge works!  If I just stay in a fitness challenge forever, who needs running?  I could just walk - which is much easier and actually IS fun to do, regardless of the benefits.

This new thought is a bit unsettling.  I KNOW of the power of motivation.  It drives everything I do.  Without it, I would most surely turn into a big useless SLUG.  And I'm not just talking about diet and exercise ..... everything I do is because I'm motivated to do it.  Think about it.  It's true for you too.  And we can only hope that our motivation is good, meaning we're not motivated by greed, pride, jealousy, etc., and instead we are motivated by integrity, love, righteous desires, health, size 6 jeans, and so forth.  Therefore, losing motivation to do something good, is not good.

Another motivator is habit.  They say to develop a habit, do it everyday for 30 days.  Yeah right.  For BAD habits, yes, it works quite well.  But good habits -- not so much.  I'm not sure how long one must do it for it to become deeply embedded in one's routine, but a month is definitely NOT enough.  I think we need to bump up the timeframe to a number ending in years.

Having been a runner for 3.5 years now ..... is it enough?  Have I developed a habit strong enough to carry me?  I don't know.  I WANT to be a runner for as long as I physically can, but I don't know if I'll want to RUN that long.  There IS a difference, you know.  I want to BE it, as opposed to wanting to DO it.  But wanting-to-be is also a motivator.

So even though I'm not currently being chased by unwanted pounds, I will always be chased by slugs.  Particularly a certain BIG one with my name on it.

Ee-yew ....  

Rah Rah RUN !!

If I like something, surely everyone else MUST like it too, right?  And when I'm passionate about something, then why the heck are you all just sitting there??  Let's feel it!

I'm again attempting to whip up enthusiasm in a group of non-runners, or I should say, pre-runners as I present to them reasons THEY need to run.   So let's put our heads together and figure out how I can inspire some pavement-pounding calorie burn.

Who is this group?  20-somethings who have recently landed in my world, who are still feeling pretty invincible and for the most part, have no clue of the evil that awaits them around the eventual corner of their 40th birthday.  Namely loss of youthful stamina and the dreaded middle-age spread, among other obnoxious things.  How do I motivate them to head off the problem before it shows up?  How to I make them want to run?

Regular exercise is the BEST prevention of dementia, heart disease, obesity, depression, bone problems, diabetes, etc., not to mention ... early death.  But when you're barely out of your teens, who cares about 20-30 years in the future?  They WANT that video game and cheese burger now.   They probably don't even know what dementia IS and surely their knees with carry them forever.

But I'm gonna try.  I'll give it my best because I just KNOW that if someone had tried to inspire me to run about 30 years ago, I would have been all ... over ...... it ........... okay maybe not.   So I'll poke, prod, and pep-talk them out the door and onto the sidewalks.  And maybe, just maybe, a budding runner will emerge from the pack and make us, and all future cardiologists, proud.

"The Little Engine that Could"

This will just be a short post to endorse the latest addition to my blog list.  My friend Cinder (and fellow grandmother extraordinaire) has been running less than one year and yet has completed a full marathon, several halfs, and is preparing to undertake a feat so BEYOND incredible that few would even consider doing.  She plans to run across America.  Yes, you read it correctly ..... from New York to Oregon.  Added to her story are some serious physical maladies that she has had to overcome ... and some with which she still deals.  Sprinkled across those maladies are some miracles of mercy that were "FedExed" directly from heaven.  I encourage you to check out her blog, along with my advice to prepare to be inspired.

Up the hill, but not over it.

Pressure is building because it's been over two weeks since my last post.  I usually formulate ideas while running, which I shall call Method A.   But since nothing has come to mind lately, I'm deferring to Method B, which is sitting at the computer with fingers poised on the keyboard, and waiting .....

Hmmmmm.....  okay, here it comes.  As I said in the sidebar of this blog, advice written to the older, senior-type runners, is in short supply.  At races, older age divisions are called Masters which, I suppose, is a kindly-meant gesture intended to make us feel valued.   Runner's World magazine, in its latest issue, offers an article addressed to our geriatric group.  Finally.  Except it includes the 40-somethings.  Do you know how long it's been since I was forty???  Don't answer that.

So let's talk about that article.  What does it say WE need to do that's different from the rest of the running crowd?

~More rest days.  Done.  I'll take it.
~Lower expectations.  Don't try to compare your today's Best, with your Best of 10 years ago.  Since I don't HAVE a ten-year-old Best, that's a non-issue for me.  I'm just trying to keep up with last week!
~Train by time, not by miles.  This means if six or seven miles used to take you an hour, stay with that hour even though you cover less distance now.  I'm considering this approach.
~Cross train.  This means adding to your regimen, any type of exercise that is NOT running.  I tried that with weights and I lasted four months.  I keep hearing that yoga is almost better than chocolate.  Is that possible??  So I'm considering it too.  
~Slow down.  I've been slowing down since my first mile over three years ago.
~Keep pinning on bibs.  Ha!  Your mind immediately went to drool, didn't it.  No, we're talking about racing bib numbers.  Although, I suppose, you COULD use them to catch drool ....  The point is to keep entering races.  It says there's something valuable about competition and accountability. Here's the GOOD news:  The older you get, the less competition there is in your age group.  If you hang in there long enough, odds are you'll eventually win a medal.  And when you do, you have MY permission to proudly wear it everywhere for at least a month or two.

That's about it.  Well, there was more, but overly long posts tend to bore the reader.  But before I close, I'd like to add a few suggestions of my own:

~Cute running clothes.   I may not FEEL as perky on the inside as my striped leg warmers would imply, but I can look the part.
~Remember how many in your age group are NOT outside, running up hills.   Feel superior to all self-imposed couch potatoes, especially the YOUNG ones.
~Do NOT compare yourself to younger, stronger, faster runners.  Instead, keep in mind fond memories of your own dear grandmother, who ALWAYS wore sensible shoes and a flowered dress.   Fifty is the new forty.  Yes, it is.  And in a few years, SIXTY will become the new forty.  Just wait.  You'll see.

Rainbows and purse racks

Rainbows are supposed to be God's promise (Gen. 9: 13-15) that he'll never again flood the entire earth .... but I'm beginning to wonder.  Yes, I live in the Pacific Northwest, and yes it's supposed to rain here, and NOT that I'm doubting scripture, but let's be reasonable.  This deluge we've been having is a bit over the top.  (And the normally quiet little stream-now-turned-raging-torrent behind my back fence is almost literally over ITS top.)  An axiom that one often hears about our weather is that if you don't like it, wait ten minutes.  Well, I've been waiting ..... and waiting .... and we're into our third soggy day of this downpour.   It's long past wearing out its welcome.   

You see, the BIG problem is not the flooding and random power-outages here and there.  No, those are just minor annoyances.  The REALLY BIG problem is that the storm outside has forced me to transform what is normally a handy and convenient purse-rack, back to a treadmill.  And then I've had to .... USE IT.

Runner's World magazine wisely had this to say:  "Treadmill (n.) A torture device perfected in the 20th century designed to destroy one's mind through sensory deprivation and monotony."

So there it is.  In spite of what one would think is an ideal setting for one of these beasts:  In my bedroom, next to a picture window with a lovely view, in front of a large flat screen TV (with cable!) and a fan, and a few steps from my bathroom and shower.  And not to mention the lock on my bedroom door .... but, as I said, in spite of these attempts to make it tolerable, running indoors was never meant to be.  It's just not natural.  It's kind of like fake Christmas trees in this evergreen corner of the world.  Running is for the great outdoors!  To run into an arctic headwind, dogs yapping at your ankles, flash-judgments between stopping for that traffic light or sprinting across the street, realizing that you really should have "gone" before you left the house because your bathroom is now miles away, and having to wipe your faucet-like nose with your gloves and/or sleeve because you forgot to bring a kleenex.  THAT is the joy of running!

When I'm running on a treadmill, it's a constant battle with myself.  Just make it to a mile! - I growl to Self.  Just one mile ... you can do it.  Running a mile outdoors is easy.  Indoors it's a miserable test of endurance because I know I can jump off anytime.  But when I'm outside, if I've ran three miles from home, I pretty much have to run those three miles back again.  There's no getting around it, so there's no battle.  You just do it.

Maybe tomorrow the clouds will let up.  Maybe tomorrow my purses will return to their proper home.  And maybe tomorrow I can return to the streets, and the exhaust fumes, and the traffic lights, and the puddles, and ..... why am I suddenly humming that song from Annie?

Resolutions and COOL things to come

My running resolutions for this new year can realistically be summed up in one word:
MAINTAIN

Or IOW:  Just keep it up.  Carry on.  Don't get fat.  Hang in there.  Don't die .... yet.

So no, I DON'T plan on another marathon, at least not at the moment.  I DON'T plan on another trek ...   And I'm NOT captain of our 2012 Hood to Coast team.

I just plan to continue slogging along as usual, with the atypical-to-me Plan of NOT focusing on PRs.  I met my goal of a sub 60-minute 10K in September, so check that one off The List.  (And if you're underwhelmed at my 10K goal, you might recall my age .....)  Just run for fun, I say to Self ......  and .... well, we'll see how that goes.   It's all part of the eternal effort to squeeze a few more drops of youthful energy out of this aging soul before I resign myself to the well-earned title of OLD.

Second thought, I DO have an actual goal:  In 2012, NO ONE will get lost on a 10K route for which I am responsible.  Never again!  And if I have to personally escort every runner to keep them on track, I will do it .... somehow.

And this year Delightful Running Friends and I will test out an additional relay called The Epic!  (Sounds OMINOUS, doesn't it.  There's something about the word epic.)  More on that later.

I also plan to accompany Husband to Utah this summer for his debut into the Saints-to-Sinners Relay, in which I will NOT be participating because it's done entirely on bicycles.  My goal for him is to simply survive this potential widow-maker.  You'll also hear more on this later.

Finally .... there's some crazy (an adjective which cannot be emphasized enough!) talk afloat about a summer solstice run in the Arctic Circle.  And I'm not talking burgers.  It makes one wonder about the sanity level of the company with which I've been associating lately.

Stay tuned ....

Runner's HIGH?

I've never been able to pinpoint what, exactly, is a "runner's high".  Have you heard of it?  I was perusing an article in the NY Times that ran too long for my attention span, but told of actual studies, using actual science - neuroscience to be exact, that it does indeed exist.

It's all about endorphins that get released in the brain during exercise, causing mood changes.  We're talking about the same parts of the brain that kick in when one is involved in a love affair or when a piece of music gives you the "chills".  One researcher said he could see blissfulness in runners' faces after two hours of running.

So that brings me to wonder.  I have done runs that lasted two hours.  And runs that lasted three, four, and over five hours.  And I'm pretty sure I wasn't feeling any endorphins.  There may have been some mood changes along the way, but nothing that fits the description of euphoria.  Not even close.  The only "high" I feel happens afterwards when I've STOPPED running -- when I'm in my shower and my run is DONE for the day.  But even that wouldn't fit what the article described.  It's more like relief.  Or satisfaction.  Or comfort in the perceived belief that I am safe from getting fat that day.  One acquaintance, who mentioned that he often sees me out on the road, said he might consider taking up running if he ever saw me looking like I was having fun.  So far he hasn't.

The article also mentioned a follow-up study about how running affects pain perception.  Meaning - tolerance for pain increased to the point that some runners kept running with stress fractures and even during heart attacks.

Not me.  Albeit I've never had a stress fracture nor a heart attack, I have had nasty leg cramps wherein my calves morphed into painful wooden stumps and although I tried to keep running, it just wasn't going to happen.  The upper body was willing, the lower body was in revolt.  It did cause a mood change to be sure.  But again, euphoria just doesn't come to mind.

I've heard that some runners "hit the wall" somewhere during those last few miles of a marathon which means the bodily revolt mentioned above, turns into full-fledged mutiny.  Some marathoners also experience dark feelings of discouragement and/or anger.  Typically-cheerful Favorite Daughter had some of this and her husband, who waited in a supportive-husbandly manner to see her cross the finish line, briefly thought she was mad at him for being there.  I, on the other hand, felt joy crossing the finish line because at that moment I was thinking I NEVER HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN!

So I've given up the hope of euphoric highs when I run.  My bliss happens at the Sees Candy counter - free samples!  Or at Dairy Queen with a Chocolate Extreme Blizzard in hand.

  Or when I find the perfect pair of boots marked 75% off.   Score!!