It's the final countdown.

At the beginning of 2013 when everyone was secretly relieved that the world didn't end in 2012 and everything seemed so shiny and fresh and full of potential, I decided that in 2013, I would run 1,000 miles.

Everything seems like a good idea in the hungover dawn of a brand new year.

I did some quick math, then took a couple aspirin, had a swig of some hair of the dog, then tried to do the math again.  It turned out that I would need to average about 20 miles a week to make that happen.

No sweat.

Or rather, a lot of sweat.  But whatever.  These miles needed to be run, and I was just the gal to do it.

I know myself well enough to know that without very specific goals, I'm the least motivated lazy lop around.  I had run almost 800 miles in 2012, so 1,000 seemed both a challenge and totally reasonable.  It was a competition of sorts, and I do love me a good competition.  Even when it's with myself.

The first few months were fine.  I owned it.  I ran.  I was fast.  I was motivated.  1,000 miles? Hell, I could do 2,000.  Or 1,500 at least.

Around month four, running ennui began to set in, but I plodded along.   After all, I knew that if I stopped I might never start again, and I had told myself that I could surely do this.  By month six I dreaded it.  By month seven I was really ready to quit and began fabricating potential excuses to try to get out of the the rest of my sentence.  I mean goal.  Whatever.  I determined that the only way I could surely get the rest of the year off was by breaking my own leg, but I also knew that breaking my own leg might put a damper on my ability to stay out of the crazy house, and that ability is usually tenuous at best, so I plodded on.

And I plodded.  And I plodded.  And I plodded.

Last month I got a bit of a second wind.  I think finally I was seeing that the end was in sight.  

As I sit here and write this, I am about 70 miles from making my goal for the year, and there is nothing - NOTHING - that will keep me from it at this point, not even a self-inflicted broken leg.  I'll drag it along behind me if I have to.

I think I though that running 1,000 miles would make me different somehow.  I thought that I would feel different.  Look different.  At the absolute minimum, I thought it would make me a better runner.

It turns out, none of those things is true.

I think it may have taught me one really important lesson though.

Don't make New Year's resolutions to your stubborn self while hung over.

I surely won't run 1,000 miles again in 2014, but I plan to remember that lesson forever.

Color Run, take 2.

Last year around this time I did a Color Run with some friends and I had a blast, so when I heard one was coming to my little old hometown, I jumped on the chance and signed Zachary and myself up for the low, low price of about a million dollars.

Ok, it wasn't really a million dollars.  But it was quite a lot.  Like grocery money for a week a lot.

After our "fits and starts" experience at our first family 5k, R opted out of this one and I left Cooper with my sister for the day, because there was NO WAY I was going to be willing to wrangle both of the kids by myself over the course of 3.11 miles.  NO. WAY.

We carefully planned our outfits, where by "carefully planned" I mean I ordered us these super cool socks WITH CAPES and it was determined that Zachary would be Batman and I would be Superman.  He always gets to be Batman.  It's really not fair.

And even though I'm still bitter about not getting to be Batman (AGAIN!!!) I will have to say our socks were quite a hit with dozens - DOZENS! - of people complimenting us.  So I was a little bit mollified.

Zack and I got there super early because I can't help it and also because I knew parking would be a bear (it was - I LOVE being right, don't you?) and we queued up and discussed our strategy (start out slowly, work up to more speed toward the end) then we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And then we went and used the porta potties.  Then we lined up and waited.  And waited.  And finally we were off!

Although I had explained how things worked I don't thing Zack really got the full picture until we rounded a curve and saw the first color station (BLUE!!!) and he stopped dead in his tracks (nearly causing a massive pile of sweaty people to fall on us) and said, quite simply, "WOW!"  Then he took off for it like a bat out of hell and by the time I caught up with him he had run through, come back around and run through again, and was rolling around on the ground in it, making blue snow angels and giggling like a schoolgirl.  Getting good and dirty is a skill mainly reserved for seven year old boys, and he was in his element.

I finally convinced him that we had to move along (MORE COLORS! LET'S GO!) and we made our way through yellow, orange and pink (the pink people were particularly aggressive with their color squirt bottles, by the way) before heading to the finish line and of course to the after party.

This is my who knows what number 5k and Zachary's third, and it was one of my favorites so far.  The mood was festive, nearly everyone we encountered was in a good mood, I stopped a dozen times along the course to offer to take pics for groups of people, and I have no clue how long it took us to run the whole race because it wasn't timed, and for once, I didn't really care.

We went to have fun, and we accomplished that.  In spades.

This post contains affiliate links. 

Workercise.

Your favorite kind of exercise.

If you've ever read my blog before today you might have picked up on the fact that I'm a runner.

I'm not a particularly good or fast one, but I'm a committed one, where by committed I mean I might need to be committed.  

I've basically been running long enough now that it has become just something I do, like brushing my teeth.  I get up, I run, it's good.

And I enjoy it.

But this isn't a post about running.  Even though I really, really, really love to run, I still feel kind of... selfish when I run.  It's just for me.  It's my time.  It lets me put my responsibilities, my kids, my laundry, my dirty dishes away for a while.  And from where I'm at that seems self-centered, which I'm not entirely comfortable with.  It doesn't mean I'm going to stop.  But it adds a second layer of... something to it that makes it not perfect.

What I really love, though, really, truly love, is the exercise that is part of a hard job well done.  Yard work?  Yeah, I love it.  Gardening?  Sure, sign me up.  Moving rocks, painting the deck, pressure washing the house, whatever thing that I can do outside and call "work" and that makes my heart rate go up and my muscles sore makes me ridiculously, totally, completely content.

I could spend days on end digging in the dirt, planting flowers and vegetables and herbs.  I look forward to the day each week that I get to mow my grass.  When a big outdoor project comes along I'm all in.  

For me, it's the combination of moving my body plus having a real, tangible sense of accomplishment about what I'm doing that draws me to things like this.  When I can step back, feel muscles ache that normally don't  and really see a difference being made, it's my happy place.

This kind of "workercise" will never, ever, give me rock hard abs or a tight little behind, but it does give me a feeling of accomplishment and peace that nothing else in the world does.

And that's impossible to beat.

Lunar 5k

So a while back on a whim, we decided as a family that we would all run/walk/crawl in a local 5k called The Lunar 5k. And by "we" I mean "me" and by "as a family" I mean it was cheaper to take the kids along instead of getting a sitter, since Cooper was free.

SPOILER ALERT - This was not necessarily a great idea for all involved.

In my defense, it SEEMED like a pretty good idea.  Zachary has run a 5k before, and Cooper will do anything his big brother does, so it seemed safe.  Also, this race promised loads of lazer lights and glowing things and I felt certain that the boys would be so distracted by all that kind of stuff that they would forget that what we were doing was kinda hard.

The real truth though?  I've been in a bit of a running funk lately, and I really, really, really miss running races.  A combination of trying to save money and not having childcare has kept me from them the last couple years, but oh, how I miss it.

So this seemed like a good - if not exactly perfect - solution.  By taking the kids along I could call it "entertainment" and not feel quite as guilty about spending the money, plus no sitter was required.  It was a brilliant plan, with the small exception being that I knew I'd likely end up walking more than running, because of the boys.  Still, it was fine.  At least I'd get to be there.  And get a t-shirt.

I love race t-shirts.

Cooper opted to wear his Superman shirt and cape to the race "so he would be faster," and I loaded us up on light sticks and flashing things, and we were ready to run.

I noticed a couple small problems right off the bat.  1. It was freaking hot.  2. It wasn't dark yet, so my light sticks were pretty useless as a distraction, and 3. It started at 8pm, which is Cooper's normal bedtime, and he was yawning before we even got out of the car.

We lined up like we belonged there, but at the starting line two very different things happened.  Zachary shot off like a rocket blast, and Cooper said, "I'm tired.  Can you carry me?"  

It was quickly determined I would go catch/find Zachary, and R, ever the trooper when my crazy albeit well-meaning ideas come to fruition, scooped Cooper up and walked the entire race with him on his shoulders.  The entire way.  With a 30 pound weight wearing a cape.  On his shoulders.  Remind me not to be grouchy at him the next time he leaves his socks on the floor. 

Zachary ran like a bat out of hell for the first 3/4 of a mile and I struggled, and I do mean STRUGGLED, to keep up.  Then as suddenly as he had taken off, he stopped and asked me, "Mama, are we done yet?'

Hell no kid.  Hell. No.

So we walked most of the rest of the way, with a few bursts of running thrown in whenever we saw a water station ahead.  Apparently he was thirsty.

But we finished and both of us were pretty darn happy to be done.

A few minutes later, we were standing at the finish line waiting for R and Cooper, and we saw Cooper's head bobbing above the crowd.  A couple hundred feet before the finish line, R put Cooper down and he ran FULL OUT across the finish.  And he kept running.  And running.  And running.  All the way past the finish line, down the path and nearly to the lake.  

When we finally caught him, he said to me "Guess what Mama?  I just ran a race and I BEAT DADDY!" 

So although it wasn't the BEST experience for all of us involved (namely the adults), the kids had a pretty good time.

  

And at least I got a t-shirt.

And wanna know the really, really, really crazy part?  I'm considering doing it again when The Color Run comes to town in October.

But SHHHHHHHH!  Don't tell R.  Let's make it a surprise for him.  He LOVES surprises!

Halfway.

At the beginning of the year, I must have been drunk and I decided to run 1,000 miles in 2013.

Just the other day, I passed the 500 mile mark for the year, and even though I don't claim to be a math genius, my figuring says that's halfway.  Since there are still a few more days left in the month, I'm halfway there SLIGHTLY ahead of schedule.

I'm not sure why exactly I decided to do this, except I know myself well enough that I know if I don't have something to strive for, I usually just don't bother, and since I'm not training for running races any more, this was a way to keep myself motivated and running regularly.

And that part has totally worked.  I log - on average - 25 miles a week, every week.

Being the goal-oriented, kind of driven gal I am, I would expect this to make me incredibly happy.

Instead, I just feel kind of blah about it.

I'm happy I'm running.  I'm happy I'm meeting my goal.

But I guess I expected to feel lighter, leaner, faster, stronger... better.

And I don't.  At all.

If anything, I'm slower.  And I'm certainly not lighter.

Every morning I wake up, mentally check my schedule for the day and decide if I will run that day.  And if I am running, will it be 3 miles? 5 miles? 7 miles?  Then I do it.

And it's fine.  And the next day, I do it all over again.  And it's still fine.

And I'm halfway!

So there's that.

On Boston.

The first national tragedy I remember was the Challenger explosion.

I was 12.

The image I saw play over and over on tv that morning is burned into my brain.

I remember thinking about it for days, weeks even.  I may have obsessed over it a little bit, watching all the tv specials and reading all the magazine articles about the astronauts aboard, about o-rings and solid rocket boosters and about a million other things that I couldn't really understand, but felt like it was my duty to KNOW.  But then time passed, and life went on.

When I was 16, Operation Desert Shield became Operation Desert Storm, and for the first time in my generation, our country was officially at war.  I remember wondering "Well, what do we do now?"  I was supposed to go on a date with my boyfriend later that day, my sister and I had planned a weekend shopping trip, but I didn't know if those things were... appropriate now that my country was at war.  Does life go on when unspeakable things are happening so close to home?  I learned pretty quickly, of course it does.  Of course life goes on.

I was an adult, at work when I heard the first news about 9-11.   A bookseller rushed in right before opening time, insisting that we all turn on the tv in the break room so we could watch it unfold.  I was super responsible, and this bookseller was prone to grand exaggeration, so I ignored her pleas.  It wasn't until I opened the store and NO ONE came in, no one for hours, that I finally gave in to the fact that this was a big deal and let the staff catch up on the news.  I remember thinking, "Well, what now?"  Do I let staff members leave?  Keep going on business as usual?  This was a big deal of a thing, and I didn't know how to respond to it.  But I tried to keep it to business as usual, as much as possible anyway, because life goes on.  Of course it does.

When hurricane Katrina hit and the reports started rolling in, I was pregnant with Zachary.  I laid in bed for days, literally unable to move away from watching all the stories unfold about acts of bravery, lives lost, and unspeakable horrors that people so close to my home were experiencing.  I wondered at the insanity of bringing a child into a world where these things were happening.  I watched as the news stories slowly transitioned to what seemed to be PR pieces, and the thought of Harry Connick, Jr. in a rowboat pretending to "rescue" people while his camera crew trailed along filming it still makes me want to search him out and punch him in the photo op.  Then eventually, I dragged myself out of bed and got on with the business of living my life and getting ready to have a kid.  It's just life.  And it goes on.

Since then there have been tragedies on top of tragedies.  Bombings, school shootings, it's all become so... commonplace.  The Newtown school shooting left me reeling for weeks, but I pulled it together and did all the things I was supposed to be doing, because life just keeps going.

In recent years, I've been turning to social media more and more to get my information, and the Boston Marathon bombing yesterday was no exception.  My first inkling that there was something going on came via this tweet from Runner's World Magazine:

And honestly, it didn't really register much at first.  Stuff seems to blow up every day.  There's always an emergency or a tragedy or an... event of sorts that everyone gets all excited about for about a minute, then we never hear about it again.  

But within a few minutes, I could tell this was one of the real ones.  My Twitter stream, then my Facebook page started to fill up with information about what was happening in Boston.  I love that social media has made it so easy to get information, often directly from people who are living it, right in the moment.  I hate all the rampant speculation that accompanies it, though.

As a runner myself who hopes to someday run a marathon, this tragedy hit me hard.  I kept reading about runners who, on what should be the proudest moment of their lives, were instead scared, confused, hurt and bleeding.  At least three people have lost their lives. 

As later reports came in, the words "devastating lower leg injuries" and "amputations" were being thrown about, and for a group of elite runners who have spent years training their bodies to run and endure, this seems a particularly cruel and tragic outcome.

My Twitter feed and Facebook page have slowly transitioned from actual news reports to quotes from Mr. Rogers, Gandhi, Jesus and more about forgiveness, and about seeing the good in people in times of adversity, and about coming together as a country.  The topics #runforboston and #raceshirt are trending on Twitter right now, encouraging the world to go on a run in honor of those injured and to wear a race shirt today to show support.

These things may be helpful to others in dealing with this.  We all deal with things differently.  

But right now, as I sit here typing away, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel.  Anger at the evil people in the world who use violence as a tool - definitely.  Sadness for those who are dead or injured - certainly.  Confusion about why these horrible things keep happening - no doubt. 

But as much as I want to sit and read about what's happening and obsess over it some more, the laundry still needs to be done.  Two little boys still need attention and tickles and love.  Dinner still has to be cooked.  Life keeps going. 

Of course it does.

But I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it. 

Practical advice for beginning runners

Long ago when I decided to start running, I had absolutely no clue what to do.   I thought that I would just walk out the door and start walking, then eventually I would work my way up to running and that would be that.

Um, not so much.

Over the past three-ish years since I took my first tentative (and painful) steps as a wanna-be runner, I've learned a lot.  A LOT.  Most of it is totally common sense stuff if you've been running for a while, but I wish, oh how I wish someone would have told me this stuff when I was first getting started.

So here, from me to you, is my best advice for a beginning runner.

1.  You need good shoes.  When I first started out, I thought that I needed all the latest gadgets like a NIKE+ SPORTWATCH (OMG THEY MAKE IT RED NOW!!!), or really cute t-shirts with sayings like "Run Like Zombies are Chasing You" or "One Bottle of Wine =5 Miles" or whatever.  I love those things, and I wanted those things, but the only thing I really NEEDED was good running shoes. 

Now here'e the thing about running shoes.  MY perfect running shoes are probably not going to be YOUR perfect running shoes.  As someone who ran a half-marathon in poorly fitting shoes, I can tell you that it would be in your very best interest to go somewhere and get fitted by a professional.  Then, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD try them out.  Oh, and did I mention make sure that they fit???  In a nutshell, if your feet hurt when you run, if you get blisters , if your toenails fall off, or if YOUR FEET HURT, you are probably wearing the wrong shoes.

2. Set a running plan.  I'm a big fan of the Couch to 5kplan, and I used it when I first started running.  You start out doing a mixture of walking and running at specific intervals, and gradually increase your running time while decreasing your walking time.  But if this plan doesn't work for you, set your own.  Then stick to it (mostly).  Even if your running plan is as vague as "Run Monday, Wednesday and Saturday for 20 minutes," it's still a plan.  And you need a plan. 

3.  Set some running goals.  When I first started running, my goal was to run a 5k without embarrassing myself (much).  After that was accomplished, I set other racing goals, all the way to running a half-marathon.  If road races aren't your thing, though, that's ok.  Right now, for a variety of reasons (like no childcare... and no childcare) I'm not running races, but I still set a goal to run 1,000 miles in 2013.  The important thing is that you have a running goal to work towards at all times.  Maybe your goal when you start will be to run one mile without stopping, or to increase your speed per mile.  It doesn't matter what the goal is, just that you're working toward something that's important to you.

4.  Find a support system. Maybe your spouse/best friend/neighbor/kids/sibling or whoever is already a runner and that's part of what's egging you on.  If so, fabulous!  You have a built in support system already.  If that's not the case, though, find someone (or a group of someones) that you can talk running with.  Most cities have running groups that are free to join, or if you're not much of a joiner (like me!) you can find plenty of online only groups, like this Facebook group my friend Natalie and I started.  I can guarantee you that your non-runner friends' eyes will glaze over after you have spent 15 minutes talking about your latest race pace time, so it's important for you to find other people who are doing the running thing too, so you can ask questions, set group goals, or just encourage and motivate each other.

5. Listen to your body.  When I first started running, I hurt ALL. THE. TIME.  Most of the hurt was normal (soreness), but sometimes, it just wasn't.  A good general rule of thumb is that if the same spot hurts for two days in a row, take two days off.  As you get more used to running, you will get better at knowing what's normal running pain (HA!) and what might need some attention, but at first, err on the side of caution and don't overdo it to the point of causing yourself permanent damage.  

6.  If you don't push yourself, you won't get any better.   If you run at the same speed, or run the same route, or run on the treadmill at the same incline all the time, your body will get used to it (quickly!!!)  and you will stop growing as a runner.  So switch things up.  Some days run faster.  Some days run longer.  Run a different route.  Whatever you need to do to change things up, do it.  You will be a better runner for it.

7. Cross training is important.  If you're serious about becoming a life-long runner, you need to do some cross training, too.  Running only works certain muscle groups, but you can increase your stamina and your speed by regularly working on the muscle groups that SUPPORT your running muscles.  I like to kick box and ride the stationary bike.  Some runners swear by lifting weights, and others love the elliptical.  Whatever your choice, it really is important to switch your exercise methods up in order to become a more solid runner. 

8. Take time off.  There are days that I REALLY don't think I want to run.  Usually, I talk myself into it by saying "Ok, I'll put on my shoes and just run a MILE.  Then I can stop."  Except the mile come and goes, and by then I'm pretty well into it with no interest in stopping.  However, it is important to take rest days to let your body repair itself.  Pretty much everything I've read says four or five days of running per week is PLENTY, no matter what level of running you're at.  Also, if you're going on vacation, or have something important going on in your "real" life, you can take a more extended break.  Be prepared, though.  For me, if I stop running altogether for more than three or so weeks, I feel like I'm starting all over.  I think what you're going for here is balance and common sense. 

9.  Hydration and good nutrition are a must.  It took me months of trial and error to figure out what kinds of foods would fuel me for long runs.  What works best for me is a combo of carbs and protein, like an egg white omelet wrapped up in a tortilla or peanut butter and banana toast (my favorite go-to meal before a race or a long run!).  This is what works for me; you have to figure what works for you.  You do need SOMETHING to fuel all the energy you will expend while running, though, and as a matter of... um... gastrointestinal preference, I usually wait at least 45 minutes to an hour after eating before I run.  Oh, and you need water.  Lots and lots of water.  You need it before your run, during your run, and after your run.   

10.  Figure our what motivates you!  Something made you decide to start running.  Maybe it's a weight loss goal, or an overall attempt at a healthier lifestyle, or maybe its' just something you've always wanted to do.  Whatever your reason, it will get old QUICKLY if you don't enjoy what you're doing.  Personally, I get such a rush from my own personal achievements that it keeps me coming back for more.  I'm super competitive, and running is a perfect (and healthy) way for me to use that to my advantage.  Maybe for you, running is a social outlet and that keeps you interested.  Whatever the reason, figuring out what makes you tick will make you a more consistent and dedicated runner.

At the end of the day, though, the best advice I could give to anyone who is just starting on his/her running journey is pretty simple - HAVE FUN, and the rest will fall in line. 

This post contains affiliate links.

Still running.

At the beginning of the year, I set out to run 1,000 miles in 2013.

So far, so good.

As of today, I've logged a little over 120 miles, which is - dare I say it - slightly ahead of schedule. (If you're interested, I'm tracking my progress on my sidebar.  Keep cheering me on.  Or shaming me.  Whatever works for you.  I respond equally well to both.)

And it's been good.

I know enough about myself to know that I work better with specific goals to drive me, and at this point I'm feeling good about my about my progress.

The encouragement from my online running group certainly helps, too.

When I started running almost three years ago, I couldn't run for five minutes without stopping. I ran 100 miles last month without even exerting that much effort.

I've come a long way.

To me, running has just become something I do, like shower or brush my teeth or eat dinner or whatever.

It's a habit. And it's a good one, I think.

If you would have told me 10 years ago, or 15 years ago, or 5 years ago, that I would be running nearly every day and loving it, I would have called you crazy.

Now, I feel crazy if I don't get my run in.

It's a powerful thing, to be able to accomplish things you never dreamed you'd do.

So here's to the next 900 or so miles.

May they keep me sane, keep me healthy, and keep me proud of the person I've become.

Goals are good.

Like most of the people I know, I seem to have more interests than time.

It seems like every time I make a choice to do something I enjoy, it is also a choice NOT to do something else.

I can either blog or read books.

I can either run or craft.

I can either cook or sew.

I can either keep my house clean or work in my yard.

I can either watch tv shows or watch movies.

I can either play video games or read magazines.

But what I can't do?  I can't do it all.  At least, I can't do it all to my liking and to the extent I want to do it.  

But I still try.  Sometimes my to do list includes things like "read Runner's World magazine from last month," just because the new one has come already.  But anyway, for me it's always, always, always a challenge to prioritize what I want to do and accomplish with my limited "free" time.

Last year, I used 122 hours of that time to run, logging just under 700 miles.

Considering that for the entire month of November I ran only four (yes, four) of those miles, I'll have to say that while 700 is a good number, it could have been better.

So that's why for 2013, I'm committing myself to running 1,000 miles.  

That's just shy of 20 miles per week.

At my current pace, that's about 180 hours of my life.

That's 180 hours that I won't be sewing or cooking or crafting or reading or watching tv.  It's also 180 hours that I won't be cleaning my house or playing with my boys.

It's a big commitment.  REALLY big.

 I'm going to have to stay on track EVERY week to make it happen, which is scary and daunting when I think about it too much.

So instead of thinking about it, I'm just going to do it.

Just watch me go.

I'm tracking my progress in the sidebar.  Feel free to egg me on and/or ridicule me to do better.

Color Runnin'

Before...

If my friend Natalie and I ever wrote a co-biography, It would most certainly be called "It Seemed Like A Good Time At The Time."

We have a long and colorful history of getting excited about something, making grand plans to do it, talking about it and scheming about it for months, then realizing we don't want to really DO it and oh dear god who had this idea anyway?

So back in May when Natalie texted me a link to this 5k run and asked me if I wanted to do it, I of course jumped right on board.  Running three miles while people throw colored powder all over you in an attempt to get you as rainbow-colored as possible?  Of COURSE I'm in.

Then as the date approached both Natalie and I did what we always do - we started stressing about the details of travel (the race was in Nashville) and parking and packet pickup and logistics and...

Suddenly it didn't seem as fun any more.

But we soldiered on.

And we got there just fine, and got our packets picked up just fine, and found ample places to pee before the race began, and everything was just FINE.

And... we had a blast.

And after.

We ran together, and even though I've done lots of races in the past, this was the first time I had actually run WITH someone the whole time.  We talked and laughed and pointed things out to each other and got totally covered in magical colored dust, and it. was. awesome.

My slightly neurotic, homebody personality often keeps me from doing things just because of a fear of the unknown, and it's amazing to have a friend like Natalie who drags me out of my safe little cocoon of a comfort zone from time to time.

At the ripe old age of 38, I'm starting to realize that life is really just a series of memories strung together by common threads of people and places, and that I need to do more things, make more memories, and live more of my own life.

And this was a great and colorful place to start.

Another 100 in the bag.

Last month, for the third month in a row, I ran over 100 miles.

That's over 300 miles in three months.

I'm still not fast.  I'm still not skinny.

But I'm a runner.

In three months, I ran the distance from Louisville, KY to Chicago, IL.

Running makes me feel strong.

It makes me feel less crazy.

It makes me feel more confident.

It makes me feel like I wouldn't get picked off first in a zombie attack.

It makes me feel less clumsy, less self-conscious, less awkward.

It frees my body and my mind in a way I can't describe.

Most days, I feel like I could run forever.

Some days, I feel like I want to.

Whenever I run, I feel good for the rest of the day, and I usually end a run by trying to decide when I'll be able to try to fit the next run in.

It's like a drug, this business, and sometimes I hate it, but I love the way it makes me feel so I can't really quit it.

And I  really don't want to.

And In August, I ran...

In August, I ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Every single day.

Every. Single. Day.

Every day I strapped on my running shoes and ran.

Some days it was only a mile or two.

Most days it was three or four miles.

One day it was even 10 miles.

I got tired and didn't want to do it some days, but I did it anyway, because the others in my little virtual running group were doing it too.

It's nice to have a support system like that.

So on and on and on I ran.

I logged a little over 100 miles (AGAIN!) and I feel pretty badass about it.

Except why am I still fat?

Oh well.  Fat or not, I'm a badass runner.

And now I have to go.

It's time for my run.

Run, Mj, RUN!

So I mentioned awhile back that my friend Natalie and I had set up a Facebook group of runners, walkers, and crawlers, and that for July, we were going to challenge each other to run 75 miles.

And amazingly, all six members of the group did it.  I say it was amazing mainly because most of the group members had never ever ever run/walked/crawled anything close to that much in one month before.  But we all did it this time.  Here's to the power of groups!

I was putting in that kind of mileage back when I was training for a half marathon but that was over a year ago, and my stubby little legs had gotten complacent since then.

But my determination (and competitiveness) were greatly renewed by being in this little group, and for the month of July, I finished up at just over 100 miles.

Uh huh.  That's right.

100. Miles.

Ok, now would be a great time for all you "real" runners to just move on along.  100 miles, you scoff.  I ran that much just yesterday.

Well, whatever, you imaginary nay-sayers.  Like I said before, just keep movin' on along, because I'm pretty proud of my feat, and of all the people in the group who completed exactly what they set out to do.

And now it's August, and for the month of August, our group (which has now grown to 9 members!) is going to streak.

The days in a row kind of streaking, not the clothes off kind of streaking.

Although what they do in the privacy of their homes it totally their own business, and I'm not going to judge.  But wouldn't that chafe just a little?  Whatever.  No judging here.

The rules are simple.  Run, walk or crawl at least one mile every day in August, then post your results on the group Facebook page.

I have no doubt that the members of our group will do exactly what we set out to do.  After all, we're runners, and runners can do anything.

Anybody else wanna play along?

Mygymstory.com

So I wrote a little post about how how important it is to wear the right kind of running shoes and it's being featured today on mygymstory.com.

 Check it out.

 Really. Go on.

  Just click here.

Here's to 75 Miles in July

While I was away on vacation, I got a text from Natalie.

"So, what do you think about running 100 miles in June?  To keep each other motivated?"

Motivation, my ass.

I smell a competition gearing up, and Natalie knows exactly what motivates me.  We had recently both signed up for The Nashville Color Run, and even though it's JUST a 5k, and even though it's MONTHS away, I've been itching for a really nice, healthy competition to get me running more often.  Maybe even one where both parties involved are aware of said competition.

Anyway, before either one of us took one step in June, we decided that maybe 100 miles was a bit much, so we would do 50.  That's 100 miles TOTAL, so it's not like we backed out or anything.

And so I ran.

And Natalie ran.

And we taunted informed each other via Facebook posts and many, many text messages.

Sometimes she was ahead.  Sometimes I was ahead.  I did bathroom surgery on my toe and had to take a couple days off.  She worked a full time job and still found time to run somehow.  I broke in a new pair of running shoes, much to my little piggies' dismay, yet still I ran.  She went away on vacation and still ran.  Every day.  Twice some days.   It didn't really matter.  We were both going to finish come hell or high water, because that's just how we are.

Natalie and I used to work together, in exactly the same job in exactly the same place, and oh boy did we ever compete with each other.  However, we managed to do it in a way that made us both better, and without hating each other or ever, ever throwing each other under the bus.

And since we're still the best of friends years later, that must say something about our ability to be competitive but still maintain some sense of sanity about it.  Well, maybe "sanity" isn't exactly the right word, but still, it's nice for a crazy competitive person like me to have someone to go up against whose head I don't want to bash in the entire time.

And I'm proud to say that as of June 30, we had both gotten our 50 miles in and had agreed to shoot for 75 in July.  We've even set up a Facebook group called Run, Walk, Crawl - 75 Miles in July to keep up and keep motivated.  We've even found a couple more die-hards to drag along with us.  

Because that's just how we roll.  Or run.  Whatever.

Competition.

A few weeks ago, I sent my friend Natalie a text:

"I'm pretty sure I pulled something in my leg while I was running today, but I had to keep going because I'm in a competition with someone."

Her response? 

"Someone imaginary or someone real?

Sad that I had to ask."

Ah, she knows me so well.

"Well, he's REAL," I responded.  "He just doesn't exactly know that we are in a competition.  It's some dude I went to high school with who was kind of a jerk to me.  He keeps posting his runs on Facebook, so every time he does, I have to run more miles plus faster than he did."

A few minutes later I texted her again.

"Oh great.  Now he's started 'liking' my runs on Facebook.  I think he's on to me."

Natalie answered, "Oh my.  Please don't break yourself.  Also, don't accidentally friend his wife."

ME: "Well, maybe she runs, too, and I can compete with her.  Secretly, of course."

Natalie: "NO NO NO!!! Step away!  You may not stalk people and run 5ks with them without their knowledge!"

It's sound advice, I guess, but then who would I compete with?   

I'm not a quitter. No, really, I'm not.

Last year at this time, I had just finished running my first 5k, which I promptly followed up with a 10k, then a 10 miler, then a half marathon.  There were a couple other races thrown in there too, just for good measure.  It was my all consuming passion of the moment.

I started running for all the wrong reasons, promptly became totally addicted to it, and then, as I am prone to do, let it consume my life.

I trained every day.

I had visions.

I had goals.

It was a competition.  For goodness sake, it was a RACE!

I was going to be the best overweight middle aged housewife runner on my street!!!!  Maybe in my whole subdivision!!!

And then, right in the middle of training for my second half marathon, I hurt myself.  And no amount of Tylenol, ice or Ben Gay would allow me to run.

I was off for three months before I even felt like I could sholg (shuffle/walk/jog), I missed my fall half marathon (WHICH I HAD ALREADY PAID FOR BUT I'M NOT BITTER), then it was Thanksgiving, then it was Christmas, then suddenly I wasn't a runner any more.

Because every time I tried to run, I felt like I had lost so much ground.  So much stamina.  So much speed.  And it made me Hulk-Smash angry at myself, because if I can't win then I will just take my toys and go home, thanks anyway.

Then one day a couple months ago, I felt like going for a run.  So I put on my running shoes, cranked up my iPod, and I ran.  It was just a couple miles, but it felt good.  A couple days later, I did it again.  And again.

And now I've fallen into a pattern of sorts.  I run two or three days a week.  Sometimes I run four days a week. Occasionally, it's just one.  I run when I feel like it, and I run until I don't feel like it any more.

I think of it kind of like showering.  I do it because I should, I never really look forward to it exactly but I always feel better after, and maybe I should do it more often or more thoroughly but what I've found really seems to be working for me and it keeps the stink off, so to speak.

And I think I've accepted the fact that I'm not ever going to be some late to the game extreme super Boston qualifying marathon winner, and I'm ok with that.

I believe what I have found with my running is something called "balance."

This "balance" business has always been something I've heard of, but it was mythical, like unicorns, leprechauns, and the nude cheat code for the Laura Croft: Tomb Raider video game.

It makes me wonder if it would work in other areas of my life, like housework and spending time with the kids and cooking and my new craft obsession and quality time for me and quality time with RJ.

Nah.  I think it's just for running.

But that's ok.  I'll take it.