My Sweet Sixteen

I'm a very lucky girl in that although my husband travels so much he is typically home on Saturdays, the days I do my big runs. He can stay with the kids while I go out and conquer the world, one mile at a time.

Unfortunately he has a lot of two week long trips coming up, meaning I need to find other ways of getting my training in. I really hate asking people to watch my children. I know how inconvenient four extra little ones can be. And it's no small task to take on my little brood, especially with their food issues. But if my long runs are going to get done, I'm going to have to start asking for help.

I'm also a very lucky girl in that my sister lives about half an hour away and is brave enough to take on my clan. I'm very grateful to her today for letting them terrorize her house for four hours. Yikes! Thanks Erin!

Driving half an hour away today meant a change in scenery for me AND a new running partner. I "met" Becky on my running group and have really been wanting to meet her in person for a long time. Her lovely personality just radiates from her typing so you can imagine what she's like in person. Even lovelier.

In the two plus hours we ran together I'm pretty sure I spilled my entire life story to her. In detail. She was very gracious to listen, especially at the end of our run when I started to get whiny about achy knees and hips. Not to mention the patience she had with my natural ability to get lost as we tried to find each other at the beginning of the run. (At least I only ran 1.5 miles in the wrong direction before realizing my error.)

It really is fantastic to chat with someone while you run. Those 16 miles zoomed by. It would have been rather treacherous without the good company. The wind and cold temperatures, aches and pains were a little easier to ignore. It's always fun to talk to someone who you've felt like you've already known for a long time. All in all...it was a great way to start a Saturday!

That being said...I was pretty spent by the end of my 16 miles. New personal record! But, oh my poor toenails! Four Ibuprofen and a couple of hours kicked back in the recliner later and all was well.

16 miles down. Only 10.2 more to go!

P.S. How could we forget to get a picture, Becky?! Next time...

Depression and Running: My Drug of Choice

It's been a pretty gnarly week over at our house this week. Nothing in particular has happened. It just feels like everything is wrong and hopeless and bad and dark and...wrong.

There is a part of my brain that KNOWS none of that is true. But it is a very small, quiet part that can't quite seem to override the more grizzly parts that take over every once in a while.

I think I have struggled with depression for almost my whole life. I believe it is genetic and that I was blessed with this Debbie Downer DNA from both of my parents. But my parents never really labeled what it was. Like ever. Maybe they were in denial of their own condition. Maybe they didn't want to acknowledge their daughter's distress because that only gave fuel to the fire. There was never talk of medical conditions or mental health or doctors or drugs. It was, "You just need to pray harder, Evelyn. Rely on the Spirit and the gospel. You need to overcome the 'natural man'. Just BE happy. Just do it." They were trying to help. They just weren't.

My weight didn't help either.

I remember my mom telling me once that she noticed I started really gaining weight in the 4th grade. And that was also the year that school stopped being so easy for me. And that was also the year that I began to really care about food. She said I would get upset about food, like if she told me I couldn't eat something, I would get mad or sad.

I would sneak food. My parents didn't buy junk food or take us out to eat very often. We hardly ever had pop. Delivery pizza and root beer was a treat. We ate lots of homegrown vegetables and very little meat. So I would creep into the laundry room where our food storage was, find the bags of chocolate chips, and hide them in my room.

I have this very vivid memory of coming home from school, bitterly disappointed about falling out of a Spelling Bee competition I had been doing really well in. My mom was making a no-bake cheesecake. My favorite. I don't know if she said this or I simply made this correlation in my mind, but the cheesecake was my consolation prize for losing in the Spelling Bee. And the cheesecake was delicious and comforting compensation.

At some point I made an emotional connection with food.

Food was my friend as I tried to deal with the sadness and anger I felt over so many things. I didn't have any friends for most of junior high. The friends I thought I had betrayed me all in one swift swoop. They invited me to a fake birthday party, hoping I would show up and realize I had been tricked. I remember finding some shells and photographs I had given them, smashed and ripped and blowing around the school yard. People called me a "brown noser" because I tried to do well in school.

I came home every single day just as smashed and lost as those shells. My parents did their best to try to put me back together each day. I remember lots of notes of encouragement and late night talks. There were also lots of commiserating treats.

My last year of junior high, I finally found my way into a group of wonderful girls...who, because of city boundaries, all went to the other high school after we finished junior high. Again, I was friendless and lost in a big new school full of big new experiences.

Eventually I found new friends. They were fantastic and I loved them dearly, but I still felt alone as "The Jolly Green Giant" of the bunch. I was one of the tallest and heaviest girls in the group. I felt awkward and obvious. I had no idea how to act around guys. I tried to compensate for my size and uncoordination with humor; humor that probably just made things worse at times. The only guy-ask-girl dance I went to was a Valentine's dance where my friend asked me via phone message machine at 11 pm the night before the dance. I was grateful to be asked, but crushed to know I was, once again, last choice.

Finally high school drew to a close and college began. I never could master the art of dating and settled for being "the buddy" or the heart breaker of every weirdo in my hometown. But, lo and behold, one day I met my future husband. He was handsome and athletically-built so of course I immediately set about matchmaking him with my younger (skinnier) sister, "because no guy like that would ever go for a girl like me". But I soon realized he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at me. Well...this is new.

We were married and quickly got very comfortable around each other. No boundaries meant no more time in the gym and no more being vigilant about every little calorie. Soon I was pregnant. And then I was pregnant again. Before I knew it I was 100 pounds over my wedding day weight and struggling with what I thought was "just" postpartum depression; and what I thought was my first encounter with depression. But the "postpartum depression" raged louder with each pregnancy and birth. And it came ever maliciously with a miscarriage. And then it was there all the time. Anger and apathy and jealousy and over-sensitivity and feelings of inadequacy and frustration and pity and hopelessness.

After 31 years of life and almost 10 years of marriage, I have learned a few things.

I suffer from chronic depression.

I am an emotional eater.

My natural tendency is to "medicate" my pain with food.

Prescribed medications do not work for me.

I will probably struggle with depression and weight my entire life.
  
I do not have to live in misery my entire life.

No one is responsible for my happiness but me.

I have found my drug of choice.

Running.

I can pinpoint exactly why this week has led me back to the doorways of depression. I have not been able to get a decent run in since Saturday. At first it was a time conflict, but as each day passes it becomes a motivation conflict. Very quickly it spirals into dark, old conflicts between my brain and my body. I forget very quickly just how much I love running and how much running loves me.

If someone had told me in junior high or high school how much I would love running, I would have told them they were nuts. But now it drives me nuts that no one did! Running is so healing physically AND mentally. I would probably have been at a better weight. Maybe guys would have asked me to the dances then. I would have lots of endorphins rushing through my brain counteracting all those nasty, gnarly, negative thoughts and doubts. I might have come in contact with people who could have helped me learn about the very positive and powerful effects of exercise and healthy eating. Maybe I would have made the correlation that just as I can stick to a training schedule and achieve major mileage goals, I can stick to other things and see other big life goals come to fruition.

I feel like I can say with a great degree of certainty that my adolescent experience would have been a TOTALLY different experience had I known how to be a runner.

I hate hearing people say they have no regrets or "live life without regret" because I do! I have so many regrets! And then I have guilt because I must be living wrong if I am living with regret. My saving grace is that I have running. While I wish I could have had it 15 years ago, I am so grateful to have it now. When that nagging depression raises its ugly head I know how to combat it. I know how to help my children not make some of the mistakes I made. I can teach them ways to cope with the hard times that will inevitably come with things other than food and well-meaning "just get over it"s. I can show them in a very tangible way how to set goals and actively achieve them.

And that is very powerful medicine.

C'mon Spring! You Can Do It!

Thanks to restless kids, I was wide awake at 5 am Monday morning.

Sometimes I really want to _________ my kids when they wake us all up that early.

(Fill in the blank with the appropriate term. Just don't call CPS. I promise that as much as I may want to _________ my kids, I am not.)

And then sometimes I really want to thank them for yanking  me out of bed that early. That gives me the opportunity to get out of the house and run my miles OUTSIDE while Joe is still home. It almost always makes my day when I start it with an outdoor run. I'm not very good about answering to an alarm clock. At least it will go away once you hit "snooze". The kids don't come with snooze buttons and they are not easily ignored.

Dangit.

Anyway, since I was up at 5 am, I ran my four miles outside. Yay!, but may I whine for a moment?

Weren't you already whining about the kids?

Yes, but can I whine about something else?

I'm going to go ahead and make the assumption that you, whoever "you" is, said, "Yes! Please! Whine to me!"

I really try to make it a personal point not to whine about the weather. I live in Utah, where many a license plate totes the saying "The Best Snow on Earth". It snows here. A lot and for a long time. It comes every year, without fail. And I'm totally chill with that. (Ha ha! Get it? "Chill"?)

So...it drives me crazy when people complain about something so unchangeable as the weather. Every year, like clockwork, like WEATHER, we know winter is coming. Along with it comes snow. Cold, icy, wet snow.

Don't like it? Fine. Move! I hear Arizona or California or Hawaii is lovely this time of year. But if you insist on living somewhere where there are four distinct seasons, don't moan and murmer every single time the snow flies or the temperature soars above 85. If you don't like something, CHANGE IT! If you can't change it...DEAL WITH IT. Quietly, please.

That being said...

This is the first winter I have braved the elements and trained/ran through. And I am so so so so sosososososososoSOOOOO sick of the cold and dark and ice and danger of winter running!

C'MON SPRING!!! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! YOU CAN DO IT!!!!

Dashing through a Dozen



Things you see on a 12 mile run: Domestic Elk

I normally do my long runs on Saturday when Joe is home to watch the kids. I wake up early to get out the door and get it done, but it still takes up a big chunk of my Saturday and I spend the rest of  the day recuperating from the pounding miles.
This week Joe got back into town early Friday so I jumped on the opportunity and did my run Friday afternoon instead.

Thus far, I have started my runs from home, running out in a straight stretch half the distance and then running down a block and returning back on a parallel straight stretch. It's effective. It's predictable. It gets me where I need to be. And it can get awfully boring.

So this time, since I had Joe around, I asked him to drive me out 12 miles away from home and I would run all the way back. It seemed like a great idea...when I was sitting in my warm, comfortable home. And then we started driving.

12 miles seems so much farther when it's done in one straight shot.

My stomach started to squirm as we got farther and farther from home. We passed from our town to the neighboring town to another town and even another town.

Gulp.

When we reached 12 miles, he asked me what I wanted him to do.

"Take me home", I said, only half way joking.

But I got out of the car with the thought that the only way 12 miles is going to happen is one step at a time. And so I ran 12 miles home. It was marvelous. And it was cold, much colder than I had anticipated. Yet still marvelous.

My legs stuck with me. The music was good. I felt pretty comfortable, as comfortable as one can be jogging, until mile 11. Then it got extra uncomfortable and dark and even colder, but with the thought that there was only one mile to go...I got through it.

I ate a couple of Clif Blok Shots and anti-fatigue pills before and half way through. I think that really made a difference. My ten mile run a couple of weeks ago was miserable. This 12 mile run with that mid-run nutrition went much, much better!

I still haven't committed to a hydration belt. I just carried a water bottle with me and refilled the two times I stopped at convenience stores to use the bathroom. That would have worked okay except for the cold water sloshing out of the bottle making my already freezing hands even icier.

And with that run I'm almost half way to marathon distance! That's exciting and very motivating. Next week I'm scheduled to run 14 miles, the longest distance I will have ever run in my entire life. After this run...I'm game!

Oh, and it was very satisfying to wake up this morning and NOT have to go running. Especially when a huge snowstorm came plowing in. I sat quite comfortably in my recliner, watching the snow blowing horizontally, feeling very smug and relieved that I was already done with my miles!

A Plea for Help

Today I put out a plea on Facebook.

I'm single-momming it this week and would love a chance to run outside. Would anyone be interested in taking my kiddos for an hour?

I didn't expect much, but within an hour I had four offers. One came at the perfect time. My two big kids were off at school, child #3 had just left for preschool, and my chores were done for the morning. The window of time was wide open and perfect. I pushed Cee in the stroller over to my visiting teacher's house and counted that as my warm-up. An hour later I returned, having completed my 6 miles in record time. All before noon. Talk about feeling accomplished.

Running outside was just what I had needed to make it through the rest of the week flying solo. It's such a stress-relief to be out in the air and the sunshine, stretching my legs, getting my heart pumping, and moooooving.

How grateful I am for other moms, neighbors, friends, visiting teachers who are willing to reach out and answer my plea for help. They may very well have saved my children's lives this week.

It's a good day.

The Terror of Ten Miles

Last Saturday I ran ten miles.

If my training schedule hadn't said "10" I would definitely have quit at 7. Those last three miles were t.o.u.g.h. My legs, especially my calves, and the bottoms of my feet were not happy with me. My entire body just felt tired. It was pretty miserable. Towards Mile 9 I found myself talking out loud to...myself.

You can do it! You can do this! Just move. Keep going forward. You can do this, girl!

And I did do it, but instead of feeling proud of my accomplishment, I felt fear.

If I'm struggling this bad to get through ten miles and hurting this bad for the entire day after, how in the world am I going to make it through 26.2 miles? Heck! How am I going to make it through the 11 that I need to run next Saturday?

It's disheartening to let that fear settle in and eat at your confidence. But my hope is that with a bit of education and some new "toys" I can overcome some of the struggles I had with this run.

It's time to bite the bullet and shell out some cash for new shoes and a hydration belt. I've only ever bought one pair of running shoes from a real running store where they watched me run and advised me to buy a certain type of shoe. (I guess I "over pronate"?) That was just last year and it cost me over a $100 as well as some respect from my husband.

He is so not fond of my favorite hobby. The time and money spent on training, gear, and races drive him nuts. It's going to be hard to convince him it's already time to buy more shoes. And then even more money on a "fancy fanny pack". He's going to be thrilled.

Oh and then it's also time to delve into the world of mid-run nutrition.

Shudder.

It's very overwhelming to me. Shouldn't running be simple? Why do I need to learn biochemistry and sell my first born just to run, or at least run comfortably? I guess I'm kind of a lazy runner. I don't want to put much work into it beyond moving my legs.

Safety is Sexy, People.

When I was a teenager I would rather have died of a brain injury than wear my bike helmet and look like a total dweeb. But Daaaaaad! Helmet hair is sooooo embarrassing.

And then I grew up.

Fashion be damned. I want to run and I want to live while doing it.

Safety is sexy, people.

(And toasty warm!)

Plus, as my friend Myya pointed out, I could always moonlight as a crossing guard. Bonus!

But check this out... Even in my super cool, neon orange, reflective running gear, I still almost got hit. TWICE!

After that experience I feel the need to clarify that if I ever do die while running, let it be known that I died happy, doing something I loved. (Slap that on my headstone, please.)

In totally unrelated news, I also feel the need to clarify that bathrooms really are a much more practical place to apply your makeup rather than, I don't know...A MOVING VEHICLE!

My final thoughts for the day: Please be kind and keep a watchful eye out when driving, especially at night. You never know when you might come across a sexy crossing guard.

You CAN Run from Your Problems

A really bad mood has been lurking over my shoulder for a few days now. Brewing and churning and festering, just bursting at the seams for a chance to take me (and my poor unsuspecting family) down.

I keep trying to fend it off. I go through my list of possible bad mood causes:

1. My period is due any day now.
2. Winter. Endless winter. Can you say "cabin fever"?
3. No car. No money.
4. Mundane daily routine.
5. Frustration with myself for not having more self control and gumption.

A perfect storm of yuck.

But then I went running. (Outside!)

I intended to do my short three miles on the treadmill all day, but my bad mood blues kept me from "intending" too heartily to really do anything about it. But I had already skipped my Monday short run. I'm committed to this marathon training. I couldn't skip a second run in a week. I just couldn't. So after dinner, with a belly full of spaghetti and bread sticks, with all traces of daylight and warmth gone, I walked out the door leaving the husband, the kids, the house, and the chores behind.

As soon as I began running, I felt the relief set in.

Physically, mentally. Ahhh! 

It was so tangible. How is it that I always forget how good this makes me feel?! This running thing (particularly outside running thing) is better than any anti-depressant. It just makes me feel better. Instantly, continuously, long-term-ly. It. Is. So. Good.

And "they" lie. Turns out you CAN run from your problems.

100 Days

Today was the 100th day of school for my school kiddos. Coincidentally, there are (only!) 100 days left until I run my first marathon.

And here's another coincidence...Last year I ran my first half marathon in the 13th Annual Portneuf Gap Marathon. This year I'm running my first full marathon in the 13th Annual Ogden Marathon!

Hmm.

I have my marathon training schedule posted on my fridge so that I can look at it every day and GET ABSOLUTELY FREAKING TERRIFIED!

Some days I catch myself thinking, "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU THINKING?!" Other days I find my thoughts are a tad more positive: "Maybe, just maybe I can do this...And live."

Needless to say, training for a marathon is a daunting thing. But then again, so is training for a half marathon and I did that. And lived.

Pfft. What's a full marathon to a half? Well, Evelyn. It's twice. It's run a half marathon, then turn around and do it again. No naps. No ice cream chocolate sundaes. No. 

I CAN DO THIS. I just need to stick to my training schedule and put in the hours. I remember last year being astounded at how quickly I could build up my mileage just by adding a mile or two on my long runs each week.
At one point I was elated to be able to run 3 miles at a time.

Then 5.

Then 8.

Then a double digit 10!

Then--gasp!--12!!
And then I was on my way to running 13.1 in my first half marathon.

26.2 miles. I CAN DO THIS!

And then I die or I go on to conquer the world.

100 days!

Trail Running: There's a First Time for Everything



And we're breathing...

I don't know if it's absurd or profound that I've had to lose myself to find myself.

Translation: As I've lost weight, I've gained a new sense of me.

With the loss of dozens of pounds I suddenly have the confidence and willingness to do things I never would have dared dream of doing before. I was too self-conscious, too afraid, too anxiety-ridden, too fat, too lazy, too incapable. I was blinded to my abilities by all that fat and fear.

I get angry with myself for losing so much precious time--like all of my 20s and even much of my adolescence--by being so dang petrified to just get up, get out, and get moving. There is a big wide wonderful world out there to be explored and I'm finally feeling brave enough to explore it!

This was my Facebook status last Saturday morning: "I've seriously lost it now. I've woken up at 6 am on a Saturday so I can drive half an hour to meet a 'stranger' where we will then proceed to RUN up a mountain in the cold and dark. Bonkers."

I met Heidi on an LDS Runners Facebook group. She has been running for over 5 years and has been so kind to mentor this newbie runner online. The other day she offered to meet up with anyone who wanted to for a trail run. I snagged the opportunity iimmediately and agreed to be there.

Aaaaand then considered canceling about 37 times. The anxiety of doing something new with someone new was overwhelming. Even the morning of the trail run, I found myself concocting some kind of excuse to not show up. So typical of 281.5 pound Evelyn.

"What if I can't keep up? What if it's too hard? What if I hold the group back? What if I get hurt? What if? What if? What if?!?"

Heidi and Ethan and their "Take No Wild Turkey Prisoners" faces

While 281.5 pound Evelyn may still be fiercely whispering doubts, I'm learning to ignore her. I went anyway, and although I got lost on the drive there, I eventually made it. Heidi and her son, Ethan, were wonderful people! They are definitely more in shape than me, but they made no fuss about my heavy breathing or slower pace. I only had to ask to walk one time and I kept up the whole way downhill!

Trail running is fabulous! It's so nice to ditch the hard unforgiving pavement and the sounds and smells of the city for soft cushy dirt, colorful fall leaves, and cheerful bird songs. We covered almost 5 miles round trip and even tackled a 300 foot ascent (talk about a calf workout). We saw deer and lots of wild turkeys. We crunch-crunch-crunched through banks of bright red and orange leaves.

As if the scenery wasn't awesome enough I had the opportunity to meet someone I've admired for awhile as well as pick her runner's brain. I've met several blogging friends "in real life", but this was the first time I've met a running friend. (Does this make me a "real runner" now?) Thank you so much for letting me tag along, Heidi and Ethan! I had a fabulous time and can't wait to do it again!

(Who needs a silly comfort zone anyway?!)

Running in the Rain

As a young girl, I saw enough romantic movies and heard enough passionate tales to know one thing was certain:

A kiss in the rain is worth a thousand normal kisses.

Rain kissing meant passion.
Soaking wet smooches ensured your true love was true.
Dry kisses? Meh. Damp, rainy kisses? Ooo-la-la!

So when I was 17, I had my first kiss. On a mountain side. In a rain storm. It was the most romantic moment of my young life...Until our lips actually touched.

Rain + kissing = Eww.

On the other hand...

Rain + running = HALLELUJAH!

Talk about passion, romanticism, guts and glory, and feeling alive! Take a run in a rainstorm and you'll know what I mean. I finally got my first rain run of the summer in this week! AHH! I love it! Especially during the summer.

Have you ever ran in the rain? What do you think? Cool, cleansing, invigorating blessing from Mother Nature? Or damp, chilly, chafing Karma curse?

I Wear Running Shoes to Therapy

I started running last year because I was fat.

And I was fat because...Well, I'm still figuring that one out. But don't worry about me; I'm working through it with the help of therapy.

I see my therapist 3 to 4 times a week. And I always wear my running shoes. A ponytail. And spandex.

My therapist doesn't talk much. She just listens as my brain sifts to the rhythm of my running shoes hitting the pavement. Some days "therapy" is just getting away from the kids, the house, the daily grind. Running mindlessly to loud, pumping music. My mind idling on song lyrics, craft projects, to do lists.

But some days--like today--we have break-throughs.

Today I ran past a wild rose bush. Cheery red and yellow blossoms snagged my peripheral vision. They flagged my memories down and instantly conjured a childhood image.

A daddy daughter date.

A Saturday morning. I don't know how old I was, but lucky me, I was going to go to a church breakfast with my dad. Just him and me.

Dressed up, we stood next to the wild rose bush that grew in our backyard. Near the grey bricks of the garage. The bush was wild and prickly and repulsive most of the year. But every spring, it imparted a peace offering: hundreds of bright, happy red and yellow blossoms.

I could smell the sun baked blossoms as we posed for a quick picture. My mom was there too. I remember her breaking off a few flowers to place jauntily in my dad's pocket. And a few blossoms to tuck behind my ear. Fragile, homemade boutonnieres for our special date.

Like the brilliantly colored petals, everyone was cheerful. The excitement of this petite rite of passage imprinted on my young mind accompanied by the sight and fragrance of floral reds and yellows.

This vivid memory, a memory I haven't reflected on in years, flooded my mind within milliseconds of catching sight of the bush. As I rushed past the blossoms, the warm, musty smell of sun baked wild roses waved me on, patting my back, and sealing in the reminiscence.

As I continued on my running path, savoring this cherished memory, I marveled at how quickly it had risen to my conscience. At how vivid it was. And again at how swiftly my mind and heart synchronized afterwards.

And just like that something gave way within me. Almost physically I felt it.

Forgiveness.

It was an instance where the circumstances of the moment harmonized. The music on my playlist was rather melancholy. I was feeling particularly receptive after being worn down by the effort of the first few miles. This was the one and only wild rose bush seen on my entire four mile journey.

There was a release. Of hurt, of anger, of bitterness. A grudge held against parents who made so many mistakes, left back on the trail, laid down to rest next to the rose bush. It was a sudden and enlightening realization that all parents are guilty of negligence and error as they struggle to find their way through parenthood. That there was no point in making them suffer for it anymore. Whether they realized I was doing it or not. Whether I realized I was doing it or not. And a hope that my own children would be kinder to me than I had been on my own mom and dad as I would inevitably have my own grievous faults in raising children.

All that from running.

I started running because I was fat. I keep running because I am healing my body, mind, and soul.

(And it's a heckuva alot cheaper than seeing a real therapist.)

Define: "Runner"

This week I have been asking myself a lot of questions. Or maybe just lots of questions that basically boil down to one question.

What qualifies one as a "runner"?

I ask myself this because one day I want to be a "runner".

I enjoy running. It makes me feel powerful and amazing and brilliant and dynamic and proactive and accomplished and just about every other synonym you can find in a thesaurus under the word "awesome". I run three days a week. I have finished a 5K and a 10K race. I am already registered and paid for a half marathon in September. In the back of my mind I have this craving to finish a full marathon some day.

The desire is definitely there.

But if I were to videotape myself running and post it for others to see, I imagine "others" wouldn't classify me as a "runner".

I weigh over 200 pounds.
My shoes should have been replaced ages ago.
My workout clothes consist of ratty T-shirts and worn-out exercise pants bought on clearance 5 years ago.
My mile time is probably well over 10 minutes.
I've only run in two races, a 5k and a 10k.
I didn't run consistently through the fall and am just starting to run routinely again with the new year.
And when I say "run" I probably should say something more like "wog" (walking/jogging).

So, am I a "runner"???

It's not a rhetorical question. I want to know what a person must do to become such. Tell me.

At the same time, I don't want anyone to figuratively pat me on the back with lovely words such as "No worries, mate. You're a *cough* runner."

Please. Don't "Sweet Spirit" me. I know I'm not the prettiest girl at the ball, but I want to know that I belong at the ball. And if I don't belong at the ball, how do I get in? Without sneaking through the back exit that is.

Never mind how un-"runner" I am now. I can buy new shoes, new clothes. I can train more. I will be under 200 someday and someday very soon.

But...There are people walking amongst us that you just know. They run.

They are lean and long.
They carry water bottles.
They wear spandex. Confidently.
They rock a messy ponytail.
They drive Subaru's.

These people, these runners, migrated in concentrated masses at a hotel the day before my 10K race back in September. The runners had come to pick up their bibs and to mingle with like-minded people.

I knew it from the second I stepped out of the car. I didn't belong.

I tried not to hunch and hide as I stood beside my sister who was running the half marathon the next day, who is a "runner". Many people simply ignored me as they immediately embraced her as one of their own, animatedly talking to her about things like "stride" and "pace" and "PRs".

I knew what they were talking about. I had read several books on running. I had trained. I had lost 50 pounds in the process. Yet, I wasn't a runner. Not that day. And maybe not even this day that I write these words.

This year, while I don't intend on wearing spandex or purchasing a Subaru, I will walk amongst those runners as one of their own kind. This year I won't be ignored. This year I will become a runner.

Whatever that is exactly.

Thanks Mom

My mom called me yesterday and asked for some advice on how to begin running. I was really happy to be asked. When it comes to running, the more the merrier. She explained to me that during a workout she had recently ran in place for 10 minutes.

10 minutes?

Geez. I can't even do that.

Sure, I ran a 10K (6 plus miles) without stopping last September, but my running has been hit and miss since then. With the start of the new year I resolved to get myself back into running at least 3 times a week. So far I've been running on the treadmill while Pandora.com plays in the background.

Run one song. Walk one song. Run one song. Walk. Run. Etc.

Last week I was so proud of myself for "pushing" to running one and a half songs and then walking half or one song. At best that's only 6 or 7 minutes of constant running.

And my mom can run 10?

Dangit.

By no means is my mom decrepit or incapable. It's just...She's my mom. She's older wiser and she hasn't run regularly or in a 10K race like I have. I have to admit, as happy as I was to hear her taking an interest in running, this was a low blow to my ego. It just simply wouldn't do.

So as I stepped on the treadmill the next day--today--I had one goal in mind.

10 minutes. No. Wait. More than 10 minutes.

25 minutes later...

I stepped off the treadmill sweaty, worked, accomplished.

There really is something to that whole "mind over matter" business. I thought I was barely making it through 5 minutes and that I was working so hard going for a whole long amazing 5 minutes. How on earth did 5 really difficult minutes turn into 25 minutes?

It's not my body that limits me. It's my brain.

I can do anything. I just need to believe I can.

"Whether you think you can or you can't...you're right."

So thank you, Mom, for inspiring me to do better and for pushing me out of my comfort zone! And way to go on running yourself. How 'bout a little half-marathon in September, eh??? Love you!

I am Mom. Hear me run.

5:10 am.

The baby wakes

Ready to be fed.

Ever the good mother

I rescue her from her nocturnal cage.

As she eats

Toasty and nuzzled by my side

I ponder on Frost and his two roads.

Such deep thoughts for such a shallow hour.

I ask myself

Which road do I take?

The well traveled road,

The one that lets me lay here toasty and nuzzled between sleeping babe and sleeping “Babe”?

Or do I take "the road less traveled",

The literal road that asks for an RSVP of Tennis shoes and sweat?

I chose the latter.

“I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

As I emerge from the warmth of the house I strap on Orion’s Belt

And take a greedy swig from the Big Dipper.

The constellations are my running companions

As is the wind that grouchily shoves at me and grumbles,

“Go back to bed. Go back to bed.”

But there is Frost in the wind

And as I run I take the literal road less traveled by:

A new running path.

One that takes me away from my rut of a route routine.

I run in solitude as the stars slyly wink at me, silently cheering me on.

The twinkling headlights from early morning travelers

Connect in manmade constellations.

They travel a different path than I.

I run

Uphill

I run

Past a cluster of cranky teenagers biding at the bus stop.

I cast my eyes to the ground,

Embarrassed that I’m far from the teenage dream

But soundlessly giggling with wicked premonitions of paunchy bellies and receding hair lines.

I run

Determined to propel myself through the entire distance.

With a half and three miles behind me

I finish.

And just as I enter my house

The sun peeks over the mountains

And gives me a swat on the bum as if to say

“Job well done! I’ve got this.”

Another day has hardly begun

And I am yet again accomplished as a runner.

I traveled the road less traveled by.

I gave wear where wear was wanting.

And as my day is underway

I can see

That it has made “all the difference”.

Quick and Dirty

Hey! Still here chugging away on this weight loss journey! Life has been crazy as it always is.

As of Tuesday, September 6, 2011 (Labor Day holiday kind of messed me up on weigh in days) I lost another 4.1 pounds, bringing me to a total of 52.4 pounds lost since May 9, 2011.

As of Monday, September 12, 2011 I lost 0 pounds. No surprise with the bigger loss the week before. Here's hoping for a better week this week.

My first 10K race was on Saturday, September 3rd. It was a fantastic experience and I plan to write about in detail when I have a bit more time and the pictures to add.

I've hit a motivational slump over the last couple of weeks, but I'm working my way out of it. Onward and upward!

Change of Heart

I remeasured my running route tonight.

What I had thought was a 3 mile run is actually a 4 mile run!

I have been running 4 miles without stopping and I didn't even know it.

I can't tell if that makes me kind of smart or kind of dumb.

Whatever it is...it makes me feel kind of awesome!

I can run 4 miles without stopping!

That's insane to me!

I was so down on myself because I thought I was running a 16 minute mile.

That's a terrible pace.

Now I know it's closer to a 12 minute mile which still isn't fantastic, but at least it's not 16 minutes.

Never mind on that bad day.

I'm good.

Mama Said...

Days like this...

make me...

CRAZY.

I started to type "Days like this make me want to give up!" but I erased that because it's just not true anymore. I don't want to give up. In fact I'm terrified of giving up. I never ever ever never want to go back to who I was a few months ago and I just simple cannot let that happen.

Still, on a journey like this, you have fantastic days where you feel like a million bucks and you feel like you could be president of something if you really wanted to and then you have really rotten meager days like today.

Days where your body and your children and your life are joining forces to make running feel pointless and impossible and stupid.

The baby is screaming.
The three year old is crying.
The older two are bickering.
The sun is too hot.
The running clothes are chafing.
The car needs $700 in repairs.
The house is a mess.
The work is piling up.
The everything and anything are all wrong.

And where you could run for an hour only a day before, all the sudden you can't make it for 20 minutes. There's no way you're going to be prepared for  half marathon, much less a 10K. What were you thinking to make these kinds of goals?! And forget about what a crummy runner you are. How about what a negligent mom you are too? And let's not forget how shoddy your housekeeping skills are. And what about the kind of friend you are anymore. Pathetic. And this...And that... And...blahblahblah.

I suppose these bad days help us to appreciate those great days. At least that's what I keep telling myself in hopes I'll believe it.

Running in the Rain

Just as I began my morning run at the local high school track it started to rain.

What's a little rain? I kept jogging.

Then it started pouring down rain.

I kept jogging.

It was early. Most of the other runners had left either because of the rain (wimps!) or because they were done with their workouts (more likely than the former).

It was just me and the track and the rain. The rain was warm and harmless. Before long I was soaked. But I felt so alive!

This was a girlhood fantasy dream come true. (I would say fantasy but then I would have to admit that it was probably more hormonally charged than I am willing to confess to. At least directly.)

I wish I had done this ages ago. I discovered that nothing makes you feel more alive than running in a summer rain.

Aaaaaand then nothing makes you feel more like the old fat person you are than running in the rain with high school football practice starting on your left side and cheer leading practice on your right side.

This was a girlhood nightmare.

It was something straight out of my past or one of those gawky teen flicks.

I was never a cheerleader (or a football player). I was the chubby awkward girl who got good grades.

Now I'm the chubbier awkward lady who has four babies, bills, and other worries besides not being asked to the school dance, studying for finals, and remembering my locker combination.

Still I couldn't help feeling like I was right back there. Back in that painful pubescent period.
The football players stood on the track joking around and wasting time before their practice began on the field inside the track lanes. They didn't move out of my way as I jogged in my lane. I had to run around them. Just as I had had to in high school.

The cheerleaders all wore teeny tiny shorts and perky up dos that obviously had more intention than just keeping their hair out of their face. After all, football practice was going on only a mere few yards away. They mostly ignored me. I was insignificant. Just as I had been in high school.

Just a fat, huffy puffy, old mom.
Before they all showed up I had been soaring with the exhilaration of jogging through an early morning summer rain fall. Now I felt keenly aware of every roll of fat, every heavy footfall, every gasp for air.

Then the thought came to me...

Where are you all going to be in 10 years?

I slapped on my mental blinders, continued my run, and almost giggled out loud as I imagined the balding and bellies, the minivans and mortgages in their futures.

This wasn't about them. This wasn't about high school. This wasn't even about me 10 years ago.

This was about me. Now. In the present. And the me I am trying to create for the future.

This is a personal journey. And so far my journey is going marvelously. A few cocky football players and snobby cheerleaders do nothing to change how far I've come and how far I can go.

So, I kept running through the rain. And there may or may not have been football and cheer leading practice going on all around me. Who knows. Who cares.

I am the heroine in my own movie. And we all know what happens at the end of those teen flicks anyway, right?

3 Miles

3 miles.

All running. No stopping.

It was so hard.

After the first mile, after the second mile, I really began to wonder if I could do it.

My body begged and pleaded for me to just stop. Give up. Call it.

But I ignored it. I did it. I ran all three miles.

I not only did it. I sprinted at the end.

And I felt like one bad mamba jamba as I strutted through that last cool down lap to the victorious sounds of Muse blasting over my earphones.

I gave myself chills.

Is there a super hero cape flowing behind me?

Maybe.

Is there anything I can't do?

Today it all feels possible.