How would you rather spend 3 hours?

I'm home for the holidays in Rochester, NY (yes, the same Rochester near Webster, NY, now made famous by another act of gun violence just before Christmas...but we're not going to discuss that now), and the thought of writing a blog post is a little daunting.  Instead of having my alone time in my 1 bedroom apartment with my Lucy dog, I am now in a home filled with my parents, 2 brothers, a sister, 2 dogs, and 2 cats.

Meet Maxwell and Sadie.  They are exhausted from all the
commotion in their usually quiet house.

With all these people, animals, and the action that is inherent in having so many lives in one place, it's hard to sit down and find a quiet moment to write something.  It makes me realize why I might treasure my alone time so closely--I never had any growing up.

Nonetheless, I have a lot to write about, and if I don't get started now, I just may not be able to inform you of all the wonderful things that have happened in the past few days.  And then the world would simply end.  

For today, we're going to talk about what happened on Saturday, and two separate, very different 3 hour chunks of time.  First though, some background info:

For the past 4 winter breaks as I head back to the East Coast, I usually pass Lucy off to Aunt Sierra (and Uncle Travis) who in turn take her down to Portland where Sierra's family is for the holidays.  Lucy then spends her holidays in Portland with them and then is back up here in Seattle by the time I get back into town.  This year, however, Aunt Sierra and Uncle Travis were heading down to Portland a few days earlier than my flight to New York, which in turn meant that I had to give Lucy up to them a whole 3 days earlier than expected.

This was unthinkable.  Three days in Seattle without my little girl??  I don't think so.  So the only other option was that I drive the 3 hours down to Portland on Saturday, dropping Lucy off and spending a nice evening with Sierra and my West Coast family, then driving back up to Seattle on Sunday to pack up real quick and take a red-eye flight out on Sunday night.  This was obviously the better option.  

Now, before driving down to Portland on Saturday I of course had my longest long run in preparation for Goofy training.  My 3 hour long run.

So here's what Saturday's schedule looked like:

1)  Run 3 hours

2)  Ice bath and eat

3)  Drive to Portland

4)  Eat, sleep, and enjoy an evening in Portland

Not a long to-do list, but a burdensome one.  But, just for comparison's sake, I want to talk about my Saturday in terms of of 2 chunks of 3 hours...and how one of those 3 hour chunks was about a thousand times more enjoyable than the other.  Take a prediction and guess which I enjoyed more.

The first half hour running.  We had a small showing for our TNT team Saturday morning, as most of our teammates were already off to far away places to celebrate their holidays.  However, the few of us that were there were strong and ready to go.

Erica, Annemarie, and I started off together, and pretty soon into the run Annemarie was already talking to Erica and I about how much more we were capable of as runners compared to what we usually do.  She's convinced that we could be 8 minute average runners if we just pushed ourselves a little harder.  While I would like to get there eventually, and do believe I can, starting during the longest run for Goofy was not the place to do it.  Annemarie even agreed with that.  However, I think we still probably were running much faster than we would have had it been just me and Erica.  

The first half hour driving.  Lucy and I stopped at Starbucks to grab some caffeine before heading out on the road.  I was excited to be in a warm car with warm coffee, because I still hadn't completely warmed up from the run and ice bath.  After getting back into the car where Lucy anxiously waited, I rolled up the window and promptly shut her tail in it.  After some crying and panic, I convinced myself I had broken her tail and almost went to the vet.  Then we both calmed down, realized she was fine, and kept driving.

30-60 minutes running.  Almost 4 miles into our bowtie route run, Erica, Annemarie, and I decided to go a little further than we were supposed to on our first half of the bowtie to extend the time on that end.  On the return, we were somewhat jokingly criticized by teammates for altering our route and "getting lost" on the Burke Gilman trail (this is funny because it's impossible).  We laughed and kept running.

30-60 minutes driving.  I settled in to listening to my audio book that I had started the day before.  It's a good one, so I was excited to have a big chunk of time to listen to it.  Lucy curled up in her bed in the back and passed out, having forgotten about her obviously-not-broken tail.

60-90 minutes running.  In this chunk of time, we made it back to the water stop where we started, said hi to our volunteer for the day (a former teammate that it was great to see!) and then set off on the second half of our bowtie, saying "See you in an hour and 40 minutes!"  My legs and my body were feeling great.  I was comfortable at the pace we were running and happy to have good company on the run.

60-90 minutes driving.  Having finally passed my exit for work, I got to see some different scenery to keep my brain more occupied.  The audio book was interesting.  Lucy continued sleeping.

90-120 minutes running.  We were running north, knowing that we had 53 minutes out from the home base water stop before we turned around.  As we kept running, I was thinking that I'd never run this far north on the Burke.  I'd definitely done some bike rides that far north, but running from the U-district (our southernmost turn around point) to Bothell and back again was something I never imagined I'd do.

90-120 minutes driving.  I found myself looking at the clock a little more often.  How far away could Portland really be?  It was dark and rainy, but I tried to stay focused on the audio book.  Lucy slept.

120-150 minutes running.  As we turned around and started in on the last 5 miles running, my IT bands started tightening up a bit and my very uncomfortable sports bra that I will never wear on a long run again started bothering me.  Other than that, I felt great.  Erica, Annemarie, and I talked about everything from running faster to our holiday plans to reality TV.  

120-150 minutes driving.  More audio book.  More rain.  More Lucy sleeping.  My legs started hurting from being in the same position for so long, tightening up as the muscles tried to recover from the run.

150-180 minutes running.  As we hit the last water stop and starting getting closer to the end, I looked at my watch and realized that we just might make it 20 miles on this run.  On my 3 hour runs in the past (one for each marathon I've run) I'd run, respectively, about 17 miles, then 18 miles, then a little over 19 miles.  Another little piece of evidence showing how I've gotten faster over the years.  I'd never run a 20 mile training run before.  Suddenly, it became the goal.  As we hit the last couple miles, I switched my watch from displaying my pace to my mileage.  I watched the mileage tick away slowly.  At the end of the 3 hours, when we made it back to our home base water stop, I was a tenth of a mile away from 20 miles.  I had told myself that if that happened, I'd run just a little further until my watch turned past that 20 mile mark.  So, Erica, Annemarie, and I, after already having run for 3 hours, pushed it just a little past where we needed to go so that we could round out our even number.

When we finished, my legs we stiff, my IT bands were tight, but I felt wonderful.  I had made it 20 miles in 3 hours!  Annemarie later told me that our average moving pace (not includeing water stops) was 8:45.  I couldn't be happier with how the run went.

150-180 minutes driving.  My brain stopped focusing on the audio book.  After going backwards and playing it back a couple times, dangerously having to take my eyes off the rainy road to change it, and then still not focusing on what was happening, I switched the audio book to some music and started singing as loud as I could to keep myself alert and awake.  Lucy went on sleeping.  We were almost made it all the way in those 3 hours.  Not quite.

So...3 hours.  Three hours of running, feeling alive, moving my legs, talking with friends, ticking away the miles.  Three hours of driving, listening to a book, Lucy sleeping in the back, trying to keep mentally awake enough to be safe on the road.

Two chunks of 3 hours spent in completely opposite ways.  Active vs. sedentary.  Outside vs. stuck in a car.  Mentally alive vs. struggling to keep focused on anything.

You tell me, how would you rather spend 3 hours?

I think my answer is clear.

To run speedy or not to run speedy...

...should it be a question?

I like to be the fastest.

When driving, I've often heard the comment, "yep, I can tell you're from New York."  I drive in the left lane and when people drive under 10 mph over the speed limit in that lane, I get severely annoyed.  Did you ever see the Pemco ad for the Northwest Profile "Oblivious Left-Lane Occupant"?  One of my biggest pet peeves ever (aside from leaving your blinker on endlessly for no reason...just turn already!).

Even when me and Lucy are out for a leisurely walk, I feel the need to pass people on the sidewalk.  That person 5 blocks ahead?  Yep, I'll catch 'em.  I am sooo the faster walker.  In NYC, I think I could have tried out for the speed-walking event in the Olympics with the paces I had to keep to pass people on those sidewalks.

But with running, things are a little different.  I certainly like to be the fastest.  On some days, like this week, I even like running fast.  On other days though, not so much.  Sometimes running fast feels great.  And sometimes running fast makes me feel like crap.

The term "fast" in running is very relative.  Some bloggers I follow consider "fast" to be a sub-3 hour marathon (actually, I think anyone would consider that fast).  Others consider anything under an 8 min pace to be fast.  Still others happily speed along at anything under a 10 min pace.

Even for me alone speed seems to be a constantly shifting relative term. About a year and a half ago, I was ecstatic if I had a run that averaged under 10 min/mile.  Then a year ago, paces between 9:30 and 9:45 were fast.  6 months ago, 9:15s were my speedy paces.  And then by the end of the summer, I ran under 9s for my speedier runs.  Now?  I consider things closer to 8:30 min/mile to be speedy for me.  Really pushing it is more like an 8:00.

By anyone's standards, I've certainly gotten faster in my years as a runner.  And I don't feel that this trend will stop anytime soon.  I don't really want it to.  It's something I'm quite proud of.  And another thing to add to the list of "Things Tessa Thought She'd Never Do But Did."  Let's take this week's runs as examples.

First, Saturday's long run ended up being 16.6 miles.  I ran with Erica and Annemarie, who's been running with us on our past few long runs.  We averaged a 9:37 pace for the run, but that includes multiple stops at TNT water stops and little chats with the volunteers without stopping the watch.  Looking at the mile averages for any miles that didn't include a water stop, the average ends up being something closer to 8:45 min/mile.  If I could keep that pace up for an additional 10 miles, I'd run a marathon in 3 hours and 49 minutes.  The question is, could I?  Should I?  Why would I?

That's 3 questions.  Moving on.

Wednesday night, Erica and I got together to do our last speed work out for Goofy.  It was raining.  It was cold.  We were tired and grumpy.  But I wanted to get out there and get it done.  And I'm glad I did, because I felt great.  We decided on intervals of 1:3:5:5:3:1.  That means a 10 minute warm up, then running fast for those minutes, with a minute break in between each, then a 10 minute cool down.  I didn't set my watch to split the intervals, so I've only got the mile splits, but here they are:

Intervals happened in miles 2-4 .

Those close to 8 minute paces mean that the actual intervals were faster than that because the "rest" minutes were slower.  When I looked at the splits for this run, I was surprised and beyond happy.  I ran hard, and felt like I could have pushed even harder.

Then today, another day when I wasn't super excited to get out and run, Lucy and I did this:

To some, this doesn't look very speedy, to others it does.  To me,
the jury's out.

Let me say first, that I am very proud of my little Lucy dog for holding these paces with me today.  She is NOT a fan of running fast, but she has slowly gained speed as I have over the past year or so (although she's usually a few paces behind where I want to be).  As a result of this run, she now looks like this:

You obviously can't tell from the picture, but she is deep
in leg-kicking, eye-twitching puppy dreams.

Because I knew I wasn't super excited about today's run, I told myself before I started that I would run the miles to enjoy them today.  No marking my landmarks that tell me how much closer I am to home.  No negative "ugh, I just want to be done" thoughts.  I would relish in the joy of these miles, absorb the steps, feel the pace, and slow down if I got uncomfortable.  Don't look at the watch.  And I'm very happy with seeing the paces of some of those middle miles where I was "running comfortably."  I didn't know I could run comfortably at that speed.

But aye, there's the rub.  Speed and comfort don't always mix for me.  I want to run fast.  But I want to be comfortable and I want to enjoy my miles.  So I guess the question really seems to boil down to "Can I run faster and love running at the same time?"

Sometimes, on days like today or yesterday, I would say the answer is yes.  But other days, not so positive days, I just want to run a 9:00+ pace and be ok with it...not be disappointed with it.

The thought of actively trying to run faster just makes me nervous.  Up until now, my speed has come naturally with my training--I haven't consciously tried to get faster.  It just happened.  But recently, I semi-noncommittally have undertaken a new goal: to run a sub 4 hour marathon in April.  I have a race in mind but am not ready to name it publicly because I'm not quite fully mentally committed yet.

My current marathon PR is 4:18.  I know I can do better than that.  I've had multiple coaches, fast runners, etc, who've run with me tell me that I could most definitely run a sub 4 hour.  But the thing is, despite having heard it and seen myself run faster, I still am not sure I believe I can.  And to be honest, it scares me.  What if I put that kind of pressure on myself and I fail?  I could potentially drop 17 minutes off my PR and still be disappointed.  That's a lot to take in.

Before I fully commit to training for a sub 4 hour marathon, I need to admit to myself that I can actually run a sub 4 hour marathon (and that I can run a marathon without Team in Training, because it would be my first without them).  I'm hoping Goofy will help add a boost of confidence to my mental state.  But who knows how Goofy is going to play out.  I'm keeping positive thoughts though.

No matter what happens, this speed question is always on my mind.  Until I remind myself to step back...

and breathe...

and look at the bigger picture...

because 2 and a half years ago, I had never run a marathon...

and 3 and a half years ago, I had never run a half marathon...

and 5 years ago, I wasn't a runner and never thought I could be...

so just the fact that I'm having a "speed" argument in my head for what will hopefully be my 5th marathon is enough to make me smile...

and the "Things Tessa Thought She'd Never Do But Did" list is pretty huge...

and still growing...

and that is enough for me.

For now.

I am a teacher too

Most of you have come to know me as a runner.  It is what I write about and think about a lot of the day.  I've been told on more than a few occasions that I have inspired people through my blog and my dedication to running.  I love that I can influence others in a positive way and treasure this ability I never knew I had.

But in my life, I am something that is 1000 times more important to me than being a runner.  I am a teacher.  I am a first grade teacher.  And today, as I sit down to write, it is not running that has been on my mind.  I could tell you about my long run on Saturday, my recovery run on Sunday, or my lack of running today.  But that is not where my mind is.

Since 11:15 Friday morning, my mind has been in Newtown, CT.  Along with the rest of the country.

I was in the library with my 1st graders for our weekly 30 minutes of reading with our 4th grade reading buddies.  The 4th grade teacher mentioned to me that someone had heard about a school shooting that morning.  I had not had a single break to look at a computer that day, so I didn't know.  My heart sank.  Then she said it was an elementary school.  My heart dropped out of my chest.  We looked up a few news reports with the librarian and the library assistant, out of sight of the prying eyes of the children.  The first words that sunk in on the screen were "18 children" and "Kindergarteners."  My mind started convulsing in disbelief.

This kind of stuff doesn't happen in elementary schools.  It is a fear and violence that exists in middle and high schools, in movie theaters, in shopping malls...not in elementary schools.  Not to these little children.  I felt like something had shattered.  Some shield had just fallen away.

As we learned more throughout the day--20 children, 6 adults--20 year old shooter--the principal, the counselor, a first grade teacher, a substitute teacher--my hands began to shake.  Suddenly it felt like it was my life, my kids.  My adorable, precious, enthusiastic 1st graders that have so much life left to live.  Those awful images that usually exist only in nightmares kept coming to my mind in flashes as I spent the rest of the afternoon with my children, pretending that nothing had happened, carrying on as if nothing was wrong.

At their afternoon recess, I watched Obama's tearful speech and read more news reports.  When they came back into the classroom I wanted to hug them tighter than I ever have and tell them how much I love them.

That night, I went home and lit candles for the ones who had their lives taken from them.  And as I lit the candles, I couldn't help but think about my family.  So I told them all I love them.

My family.  Healthy and safe and alive.

On Saturday, I woke up and decided that, even though I run with Team in Training and we run to cure cancer, today my miles were being run for something else.

After my run, any spare moment I had I was looking up more news reports, my thoughts consumed by any information I could learn about what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School.  They released the names of the children, confirming that they were all either 6 or 7 years old.  They released the names of the teachers, and one of them, Vicki Soto, was a 27 year old first grade teacher.  The facts too closely aligned with my own life to ignore.  This tragedy has nothing to do with me, is not about me, but it sure felt like it could have been me.  And I just can't seem to shake that feeling.

I can't imagine what those families are facing, and will face as they mourn their loses.  And I especially worry about the 1st graders who watched as their teacher and classmates were brutally killed.  Or the students who saw the bodies as they left the school.  Or those who simply heard the shots or were present in the school.  Those images, those sounds, that fear will haunt them for years to come.  Their innocence was stolen from them, and they may never be able to get it back.  It isn't fair.

Today, as my students entered my classroom, I again saw those horrific images I had composed in my mind, but just I smiled and hugged them and welcomed them back to our classroom.  A classroom I didn't feel quite as safe in as I did on Friday morning.  I wondered what they knew, what facts they had heard and what misinformation had not been clarified.  I couldn't ask them, I couldn't talk to them--that is not my job.  I am not their parent.  I am their teacher.  As much as I want to talk to them about it and reassure them if they are scared and help them understand if they do not, that is not my job.

When one student walked up and hugged me tightly, looked me in the eye, and said "I missed you, Ms. Kaplan," I couldn't help but think does she know?  Is this just a first grader's loving hug after a weekend away from school or was it something more?  But I couldn't ask, I couldn't probe.  That is not my job.

I heard nothing from the students until the very end of the day.  During writing time, something sparked a student to comment about the tragedy.  He spouted off a few facts "20 children, 6 adults" and a few pieces of misinformation "the guy's mom was a kindergarten teacher and he shot her kids," before I could quickly stop the conversation and keep these statements out of the ears of nearby children.

But as he spoke, he said one thing that made me cringe and want to cry out in anger.  "My brother says that this is why teachers should be armed too."  I know his brother.  A few short years ago he was a 1st grader in my class too.  I know this family and I know this is not the beliefs of the parents.  But somehow these boys now think that their teachers need guns in their classrooms to make them feel safe.

I don't often get political on this blog, but today I feel a need.  Today, I am sad and I am angry and I don't believe that Americans should be allowed to own semi-automatic weapons.  This is the gun that Adam Lanza carried into an elementary school so that he could shoot 6- and 7-year-olds as they learned to read:

Plus 2 other handguns.

I like to consider myself a pretty open-minded person, but why on earth does any American civilian need a gun like this in their home?  I have heard the arguments of pro-gun enthusiasts: 

Guns don't kill people, people do.  Why don't you outlaw knives and shovels and cars while you're at it? Yes people kill people, but guns make it a whole lot easier.  Knives are meant for chopping, shovels are meant for digging, and cars are meant for driving.  But guns...guns are meant for killing and nothing else.

It's for protection, defense.  Really, when an intruder breaks into your home, do you think you'll have time to run to the gun safe and grab your ammo and gun before they get to you?  And if you tell me you could keep it loaded in your bedside table, then I will never knowingly set foot into your house and hope no child ever does either.

I use my guns for hunting.  That's fine, but do you need a semi-automatic rifle to hunt deer?  And if it's only for hunting, there's no need to keep ammo in the house.  And the gun should be locked tightly away.

Whatever the argument, I am not open minded about gun control.  According to a CNN article I read over the weekend, "There are an estimated 270 million guns in the hands of civilians in the United States, making Americans the most heavily armed people in the world per capita. Yemen, a tribal nation with no history of strong central government or the rule of law, comes in a distant second" (source).  Now is the time for a conversation about gun control across the country (actually, it was the time for talk about gun control after Columbine or Virginia Tech or the Aurora shootings and long before).  It is time for a change, and I will stand strongly behind any movement to take assault weapons out of the hands of civilians.

But the problems behind what happened in Newtown are two-fold.  Gun control would go a long way towards solving some problems, but we also need to make changes to our mental health care system.  This blog post presents a few of the problems with our system.  Right now, people who need help can't get it until they are charged with something.  Until it's too late.

I have seen these children in my classroom.  The angry ones.  The violent ones.  The self-destructive ones.  And I do what I can for them, but I always wonder...where will these children be 10 or 20 years down the road?  If they don't get the help they need, will they be the next Adam Lanza?  What will they have to do before they get what they need?  I am scared for these children, I have been scared of these children, and I am scared for their friends and family when something goes wrong.

We all know that prevention is the key, but where is the government, where are funds to help make this necessary prevention happen?  And why are most of our prisons filled with the mentally ill, biding away their time without counseling or help?

I hope that if we have to live through this massacre of children, teachers, and school staff that we can do something productive with it.  But I fear that as with most other things, as the news begins to fade and the general public begins to forget in a few weeks, the conversations we are all so passionate to have right now will blur into the background.  

But for me, it will be a long time before I can "forget" what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary.  This shooting has shaken me to my core more than I could have thought possible.  In one week I will be back home in New York celebrating the holidays with my mom, dad, sister, and brothers.  I will hug them and tell them I love them because I can.  Because they have not been taken from me and I have not been taken from them.  I will cherish those moments all the more this year.

And I will try my best to remember the children and brave staff members of Sandy Hook...I will try my best to fight for the kinds of change that could have saved their lives.  I hope you do too.

Charlotte, 6                                       Rachel Davino, 29

Daniel, 7                                           Dawn Hocksprung, 47

Olivia, 6                                            Anne Marie Murphy, 52

Josephine, 7                                      Lauren Russeau, 30

Ana, 6                                               Mary Sherlach, 56

Dylan, 6                                           Victoria Soto, 27

Madeleine, 6 

Catherine, 6 

Chase, 7 

Jesse, 6 

James, 6 

Grace, 7 

Emilie, 6 

Jack, 6 

Noah, 6 

Caroline, 6 

Jessica, 6 

Avielle, 6

Benjamin, 6 

Allison, 6

Have you fartlekked today?

I didn't today, but I did yesterday.

However, due to my compulsive need to retell stories in chronological order, we'll have to come back to that.

Last week when I left you, I had had 2 pretty amazing runs.  I was getting my mojo back.  The streak of finding my mojo still continues...do not fret...but I have to tell you about Saturday's run.  To start off, let's look at the splits:

Miles 1-6 = awesome. Miles 7-11 = not so much.

The first half of this run was perfect.  I felt great.  My legs were strong.  I carried along at a pretty swift pace for me for a long run.  But on our out-and-back run, just after the midway turn around point, I felt some sudden pangs of pain in my side and tummy.  At first, I ignored it.  But the pains gradually worsened.  In mile 7, I made a pit stop, but to no avail and the pains continued.  They turned slowly into a massive side stitch under my upper left ribs, which then stretched all the way across my tummy.  As I continued running, the cramp crept slowly down my side.  By the time it hit my lower ribs, it was pinching so badly that I had to walk for a bit (hence mile 8's pace).

I was running with one of my teammates, Annemarie who thankfully stuck with me through this pain, the walking, and the pit stops, despite my urging her to continue on her own without me.  She's already typically a much faster pace than me, then add my tummy troubles to it and I knew I was like a lead foot to her.  But she insisted she wasn't going to leave me.  Which I was extremely thankful for.

After we walked for a minute or so, I tried to pick back up the pace again and probably made it another half mile before attempting a pit stop again.  No luck, and the pain continued.  I kept running for a little and then needed another short walk break.  Annemarie kept reminding me to breathe deeply, which I focused on, but it's tough to breathe deep when every breath results in a crippling pain in your side.

After the second walk break, we had about 2 miles to go.  So I gritted my teeth, counted down the minutes, and just kept pushing until we finally got back to the start (hence the slightly faster paces in the final 2 miles--just trying to get through it).  By the time we finished, my cramp had slid all the way down my side next to my hip bone and extended across my lower abdomen.

While I chatted with a few other teammates at the end, I had to keep doubled over for about 10 minutes before I was able to stand fully upright somewhat comfortably.  And then by the time we had gotten back to the cars, driven to breakfast, and ordered our food, I was totally back to normal.

I have no idea what caused this.  The only thing I can think of was that I added some Seitan (wheat protein) to my pasta the night before.  But this didn't really feel like a bathroom tummy issue--it was an honest side cramp.  Nonetheless, no more Seitan on Friday nights.

*Side note for those who don't know of the term: this experience is NOT what a fartlek is.

But, despite all of this, I must point out my mental state during my struggle.  I was annoyed and frustrated, but in a completely different manner than all of Negative November.  I knew I could do this run.  My legs felt great.  My lungs (aside from the pinching cramp) felt healthy and full.  Mentally, I was 100% there for this run.  Instead of giving up and calling someone to come get me, or sending Annemarie on to go fetch someone, I mentally and physically pushed through whatever affliction decided to attack me on that run.  And now I believe that I passed whatever test it was that somebody decided to give me that day.  A++ for effort and mental stability.  Go me.

And then that night, I celebrated/tried to forget about the run by putting on a little black dress for a Holiday Ball and drinking too much with my HLM Sierra and other friends I haven't seen enough lately.

Yes, there is a lot of leg in that picture, but I put those
guys to work daily and they deserve to be shown off
once in a blue moon.

Then on Sunday, I allowed myself a day of nothing.  I slept in until 10, then curled back up in bed with my friend Hulu until 2.  Then I moved to the couch and my friend Netflix kept me company until I ordered dinner from the Thai place down the street.  I had a guilt-free productivity-less day (which may or may not have also had something to do with the amount of alcohol consumed the evening before).

Monday was a rest day on the schedule.  I thought about running since I had taken Sunday as a rest day, but then Erica asked if I wanted to drink wine instead.  So I did that.

Then on Tuesday, I fartlekked.  I'm not sure how I've made it 4.5 years as a runner without a fartlek.  I've known what a fartlek is for a few years, just never really did it.  For those that are curious and have no idea what a fartlek is, let me educate you.  It is not quite as interesting as the word may suggest.  Fartlek means "speed play" in German according to Coach/Ironman Kelly--so if that is incorrectly translated you can totally blame her :)

As technical as that may sound, it's kind of a fun speed work run.  If you're with other people it's a great challenge.  Erica, Ironman Jason, and I all ran together.  After a 10 minute warm up, one person chooses when to start sprinting.  They choose a starting point (ex. "that stop sign") and an ending point (ex. "the next crosswalk").  Then you slow down, recover, and a minute or two later, it's the next person's turn to choose the starting and stopping point.  You're typically sprinting for no more than a minute and a half.  We continued these starts and stops of bursts of speed for 40 minutes, followed by a cool down of 10 minutes.  And there you have it.  A fartlek.  Very little structure, but lots of challenge and speed work where your suffering is totally dependent upon you and your running buddies' whims.

Last night, I had lots of energy and speed at the beginning after having rested for 2 days, but by the end I was spent.  In a good way.  I'm excited to do another one next week.  I'd rather do fartleks or speed intervals over hill reps any day.  Just sayin'.

And after last night's fartlekking, I woke up this morning for pre-dawn run #3.  It was raining and Lucy was protesting against any pace faster than 9:00.  But my mojo-filled mind didn't care.  I got out there and ran and had 4.5 miles under my belt before 6:15 in the morning.  The sun didn't even start rising until close to 8:00.  I was out pounding the pavement over 2 hours before he even thought about waking up.  Go me again.

And so now I have a new goal: Make Wednesday morning runs a regular occurrence (after next week, because I'll be fartlekking with Erica again next Wednesday evening).

Anyone want to become my Wednesday morning running buddy (I'm looking at you, Ironman Jason)?  We leave from my place at about 5:20 AM.  No big deal.

P.S.  Mr. Spell Check does NOT like the word "fartlek" or any derivation thereof.  I defy you again Mr. Spell Check.  Bwa-ha-ha.

P.P.S.  Happy 12/12/12!!  I hope you did something awesome enough to give yourself at least a mini "go me."  It feels pretty good when you do.

2 runs to change it all

I feel like myself again.

Negative November has been washed away in the rain, and Determined December has stepped in it's place.

It's funny how 4 years of pretty awesome running (with some ups and downs) can seem to disappear in one discouraging month.  But now, I'm back.  I'm retraining my brain and loving the miles again.  Not just having the miles done with, but the actual miles themselves.

Take last night's run for instance.  Usually, on Tuesday nights I practice with TNT at Green Lake.  But after a last minute meeting at work and some traffic on the commute, I got home with no time to take Lucy for her walk before I left for my run.  So out of fairness to her, I decided to skip practice (it's a "rest" week anyways, so I wasn't missing hill repeats or tempo runs) and take the loveable Lucy out with me for some exercise.

Because this sleepy puppy is way better to have around in a 750 sq ft apartment:

So sleepy and cuddly.

Instead of this neurotic mess:

So. Much. Energy.  Pictures cannot capture it fully.

On the way home from work, the rain was just a steady light sprinkle.  This is typical Seattle rain, and I don't mind much running in it.  It's not soaking, and at times can even be refreshing if it's not too cold out.  So when I got home, with the decision to skip practice made, I put Lucy on her leash and headed out for a 5 miler through Ballard.

Five minutes into the run, the rain turned into more of a steady rain instead of a sprinkle.  That I could handle.  I don't melt.  Although I think Lucy has convinced herself that she does.  She's a trooper though and trots along behind me.

But 10 minutes after that, it started POURING.  I was already about 2 miles from home, so there was no turning back.  I started puddle jumping and enjoying the seconds of pass-through under dry trees, thinking the downpour couldn't last long.

But it did.  And 10 minutes later, I was drenched, starting to feel a little miserable and tired of jumping around puddles at the same time that Lucy aimed for them (she likes to splash through them and then try to catch the splashes in her mouth...so charming).

Then, about a mile and a half from home, as I waited at long stoplight, imagining what a soaked pair me and Lucy must look like to the passing cars, I gave in.  I started laughing at how heavily the rain was coming down and streaming through the gutter at my feet.  I was soaked, and cringing miserably under the downpour wasn't going to help matters.  Instead, I surrendered to it.  Let it rain.  Let it pour.  Let it come down in sheets.  I will take it all.

And then the rest of the run felt, simply, like freedom.  I pumped my legs, jumped into the puddles with Lucy, and forgot about caring.  It was all about running and enjoying it.  No matter what conditions surrounded me.

The rain washed it all away.  Whatever "it" is.

And then I got home and took a long, hot, well-deserved shower.  I might be exaggerating, but I can't help but say that it was one of the best runs I've had in months.

But, it didn't end there.  Remember this post back in early October when I made of lovely list of all the things I've learned since saying goodbye to the snooze button?  And remember how I so optimistically ended my list with this?:

8)  Perhaps, one day, I could become a morning exerciser.  Who knows...crazier things have happened.

Well friends, that day has officially arrived, and a lot sooner that I'd ever expected.  Actually, the first momentous morning run happened a few weeks ago, but it was in Negative November, I felt awful and I frankly didn't feel like writing about it (I know...bad blogger).  But this morning, after my body cleansing run last night, I woke up and ran again.

Due to scheduling conflicts this evening, I knew I wouldn't get my run in.  And with the Goofy Challenge lingering over my shoulder, I'm hesitant to miss any runs right now.  So I decided I would re-attempt a morning run.  I was in bed by 8:30 last night and asleep by 9:00 (yep, I'm a cool kid).  The alarm went off at 5:00 and I got up and ready to go.

Luckily, it was not raining.  As much as I embraced the rain the evening before, the thought of another drenching run at 5 AM didn't seem too appealing.  I bundled up, put on my headlamp, attached Lucy's flashy red light to her collar, and took off.

And again, I felt great.  The usual stiffness I feel on weekend or vacation day morning runs wasn't there.  My lungs felt great.  My legs were a little sore, but sometimes that only helps me push harder (I'm hurting already, why not push just a bit more anyways?).  I was also surprised to run past a pack of about 15 runners making their way around Green Lake.  And a few other solo and pair runners as well.  On my first "official" morning run, I had seen 2 other people out braving the elements.  It was nice to have some other morning runner smiles this time.

I did my 4.5 mile loop around Green Lake and the zoo.  It wasn't my fastest run ever (about a 9:00 pace), but I wasn't aiming for speed.  My main thought during the run was: "Enjoy it."  So I ran at a pace that I was completely comfortable at.  A pace that felt easy.  A pace that Lucy could easily keep up with.

And then, I was back home by 6:15 AM, with my daily run already under my belt.  And again, it felt pretty amazing.  I went to work knowing that I ran that morning.  I taught my first few lessons knowing that I got up and ran in the morning.  I ate lunch knowing that I had already done my run.  And through the afternoon  and on my way home from work, I knew that I didn't need to run when I got home (even if I wanted to).

Let me make this clear, in case it's not: I ran in the MORNING.  Pre-sunrise.  Pre-work.  And it felt good.

In less than 12 hours, I ran close to 10 miles in two very different but two very encouraging, self-affirming runs. My mind is getting back to where it used to be.  And I'm starting to feel like me again.

So, my official goal for Determined December:

Enjoy Running.

Because really, otherwise, what's the point?

Going Goofy is getting serious

I'm not sure if you've noticed this about me yet, but I'm quite adept at distracting myself from things that I'm not quite ready to think about yet.  Sometimes this pays off, reducing stress and eliminating unnecessary worry.  Other times, it doesn't work out so well and I find myself panicking in the final moments.

You may have heard me mention a few times in passing that I somehow decided that it would be a smart choice to sign up for Goofy's Race and Half Challenge in Disney World, which takes place on January 12 and 13 (for those who don't know about this race yet, it's a half marathon on Saturday followed by a full marathon on Sunday).  Technically, I've been training for the Goofy challenge since early September when we kicked-off the Team in Training winter season.  I've been attending Saturday long run practices and Tuesday strengthening and speed practices.  I've been trying to fit in my weekday runs and Sunday recovery runs.  I've been following the schedule the best I can and going through the motions.

But my mind has been elsewhere.  To simplify things, here's bullet list of all the other things I've been thinking about:

• starting school after an amazing summer
• my first triathlon
• becoming a "morning" person
• the Nike Women's Half Marathon
• figuring out how I want to eat
• dealing with stress (both good and bad) at work
• being sick for a long, frustrating time
• holidays
• the Seattle Half Marathon
• etc.

The one thing that I have certainly not been focused on is running 39.3 miles in one weekend.  But now, pardon the expression, shit is getting real.  

Because suddenly, it's December.  And December happens to be the calendar month that comes before January.  Which means that I have just a short month and a half until I'm headed down to Orlando to run through all the parks in Disney World.  Twice.  

There are a couple of things that happened this week to suddenly make Goofy seem real.  First of all, the Seattle half was my last big distraction race before Goofy.  Now it's over, and the only thing left to focus on is Goofy.  After just a day of rest on Monday, I've run every single day since then (it's Sunday again now) and it feels like running the Seattle half happened eons ago.  According to my Dailymile log, I put in 41 miles this week.  For me, that's a pretty heavy mileage week.

On Tuesday, we did an hour long "tempo" run where we kind of just ran fast for a long time.  My tummy wasn't feeling too happy with me by the time I finished (eating half a box of cheez-its as a mid-morning snack = bad news bears for evening run) and my legs were still sore from the half, but I pushed through 6 miles.

On Wednesday, we had our somewhat belated "half-way" party for TNT to celebrate being half-way through winter season.  But due to scheduling issues, it was really more of a three-quarters-of-the-way party.  Another reminder that the race is getting closer.  I squeezed in a quick 30 minute run with Lucy before heading to the party.

On Thursday, Erica and MacKenzie met me at my place to go for a girls' night run with Lucy and Lottie (MacKenzie's furry four-legged best friend).  I'm sure we looked awesome with our headlamps and flashing collared dogs running around Green Lake.  We tried our best not to bowl anyone over, including ourselves, for the 5.4 mile run.  

Then on Friday, I went for a completely solo run (not even Lucy joined me).  Usually in TNT training seasons, Fridays are rest days.  But for Goofy training, we've been running Friday runs to get our legs nice and tired for our Saturday long run.  Kind of a simulation of what it will feel like on marathon day after we've already run a half marathon the day before.  This Friday, it was absolutely pouring rain, but as I drove home, I realized I actually wanted to get out there and run.  This was huge.

If you've been following along, you know that I've been not feeling so positive in the past 2 months or so.  I can't really remember a recent time when I had that innate urge to really want to get out there and run.  That urge is what got me running in the first place and what has kept me running for so long (and so far), but I just haven't felt it in a long time.  I haven't felt the bodily need to run like I usually do, I just got out there because I felt like I had to.  And when I was out there, I felt awful both mentally and physically.  But Friday, suddenly I wanted to run.  Pouring rain and all.  I decided to leave Lucy at home, because puddle jumping in the rain is hard enough, and even harder with a pup who loves to go splashing through the puddles instead of avoiding them.

I just wanted to get out and run.  For me and no one else.  I wanted to feel that feeling again of just running and loving it.  And I did.  I was soaked and I was cold, but in my mind I felt like I was in a place I haven't been in far too long.  And of course, to make it real, I had to declare it so on Facebook.

Which people seemed to like.

I think the Seattle half may have just given me the confidence that I needed to get my head back into the game and ready for Goofy.  I think it reminded me that I can fight through the tough times, that I have in the past and I will continue to in the future.  I think it gave me the push I needed to get me past this hiccup of a few months.

And then Saturday, with my new realization under my belt, I tackled 17 miles without too much worry.  I've gotten used to typical Saturday long runs ranging between 8-13 miles, but this was the first time I'd run longer than a half distance since San Diego training last spring.  At TNT practice, me, Erica, and our teammate Annemarie ran together in perfect running weather (the weather report called for rain, rain, and more rain--but it held off just for us).  We ran up and down Lake Washington, starting in the middle at Genesee Park, running down to Seward Park, back up again all the way past the 90 bridge, through Leschi, and past Madison beach.  Then we turned around and headed back to Genesee Park.  Minus some water stops and bathroom pit stops, our average moving pace was 9:00 min/mile.  I believe those would be the fastest chunk of 17 miles I've ever run.

And mentally, I was there.  No, it was not easy the whole time (anyone who thinks 17 miles could be easy the whole time, go try it), but when things started hurting and my body got tired, I had a fight in me that I haven't had in what feels like a very long time.  In the final miles, when my legs didn't want to run any farther, I told them to, and unsurprisingly they did.  It was just what I needed.

I even tolerated my post-run ice bath better than I have in past weeks, knowing it was healing up those tired muscles, getting them ready for the next run.

Today, I went on a 30 minute recovery run.  My legs were tired and tight and I took it slow with Lucy, but I still felt great.  However, I oddly felt like people were staring at me as I was running around the lake, and when I got home I realized that I looked like this:

Not my best running clothes outfit combo ever.  I may have
blinded people as I passed them.

I feel as though the more I run, the less concerned I am about my running appearance.  But that is the least of my concerns right now...

Because I have just 6 short weeks until my biggest challenge yet, and I hope this current mental uptick I'm feeling stays with me solidly until then.  Because there are still a lot of miles to go before I even get there.  But when I get there, if I survive it all, I'll get to come back to Seattle wearing these three shiny medals around my neck:

Donald for the half, Mickey for the full, and Goofy for both.

And the biggest smile you've ever seen.

Amica Seattle Half Marathon: On giving it your all (Part 2)

When you run the same race more than once, you can't help but compare performances.  Races typically happen on or around the same date every year, and a lot can happen in a year.

For example, I've now run the Seattle Rock N Roll 4 times.  The first year was my first half marathon.  The second year was my first full marathon.  And then I ran the next 2 years as halves, "just for fun."  Every year that I run the race, I can't help but think back on the year before.  Or the year before that.  As I round a certain corner on the course or climb a certain hill, I get flashbacks of how I was feeling, which body parts were hurting or holding strong, and which voice in my head was the loudest at that moment, in that exact spot, exactly one year ago.

So, as I ran the Seattle Half Marathon on Sunday, comparisons to last year's race were unavoidable.  Therefore, let's get the time comparisons out of the way right at the get-go:
Seattle Half Marathon 2011:  1:59:33, average pace 9:07
Seattle Half Marathon 2012:  1:52:47, average pace 8:36
Total Time Loss: 6:44
Average Page Difference: 31 secs/mile

Those are some stats I can smile widely at.

This year, I have strengthened and added speed more drastically in my running than any other year in my short racing career.  I could discuss the reasons why or how, but it would push this race recap into a Part 3. So instead, I'll save all the whys and hows for a future post.  For now, it's time to get on with the race recap.

We left off last time just after the race started.  I crossed the start line with Erica, Jason, and Joe.  Jason took off right away and ran himself to a super speedy 1:35 PR.  Joe stuck with Erica and I for the first few miles through downtown Seattle.  We chatted, weaved up onto sidewalks, around crowds of people, between cars parked on the street, and finally made our way into a clear opening as we entered the tunnel of the I90 express lanes.  These miles were pretty uneventful other than the fact that we started realizing we were going a little faster than our goal starting pace (remember, I wanted to start at 8:50, Erica pushed for 8:40 but agreed on the slower pace).  Here are the overall splits for those interested in numbers:

I had to cut the headings off the top, but I think you get the idea.

Notice that after the first mile, we came nowhere close to that 8:50 goal.  We average more around 8:25 for miles 2-7.  This made me nervous, knowing that in addition to the rolling hills that we had already hit, we had 2 monsters to tackle around mile 7.5 and just before 9.  So, as usual, during the first half of the race as Erica and I stuck together, we talked about unimportant things and kept looking at our watches, telling ourselves to slow down, take it easy.  There were mountains to climb.

And when we hit the first mountain (left turn from McGilvra up Galer, left turn and all the way up Madison, for those of you familiar with Seattle), my first solid flashbacks from last year hit hard.  I all but died on that hill last year.  I was running with Erica and one of our TNT coaches, Kathleen, from the season we had just finished up.  We had stuck together for the first 7 miles, but as we got up Galer and rounded the corner to Madison, all I could picture was Erica and Kathleen slowly getting farther and farther ahead of me as I ran out of steam up the hill.  And then the rest of the race was a mental battle after that.

But this year, it was different.  This year I had the super hilly Nike Women's Half Marathon under my belt.  I knew I could tackle hills like this and survive to continue running (and then tackle some more).  So with that recently gained confidence, I powered up the hill.  I panted and pushed and grimaced and climbed until we hit the top.  And then, just like I did in Nike, I hit the top of the near mile long hill, and it was done.  I didn't die.  I didn't walk.  My legs didn't fall off.  And the average pace for that hill?  About 8:30, I think.  Still well under that intended "starting" pace.

One of the things that I had learned from Nike, was that after the first brutal hill, if I slowed down just enough, controlled my breathing and relaxed my muscles, then my body could recover.  I could continue on as if I hadn't tackled that hill.  So I used this knowledge after the Madison hill.  I tried to slow up, relax, and get recovered for the next quickly approaching monster of a hill.  This is the first time race experience has really paid off for me.  Instead of panicking about the next hill, I focused on recovering, getting ready for it, and conquering it.

That didn't make the next hill physically any easier though.  The climb from Lake Washington Blvd, up Interlaken to the Arboretum is much shorter than the Madison hill, but it is way steeper.  Was it easy?  No way.  But that typical nagging voice, that voice that spoke so loudly to me in last year's race on that hill, it was quiet this time.  It wasn't completely silent.  It urged me to slow down, walk, stop.  But it was just a whisper, a faint nudging in the back of my head.  The voice that knew I could make it, keep going, and finish talked much louder than last year.  The difference was audible in my head.  

When we hit the top of the hill, the Team in Training mission mile was there with pictures of all of those people we are running in honor of, in memory of, or in celebration of right there on the side of the road.  And familiar team faces waited at there too.  And again, I remember that I could do this--and it wasn't always about me.

Erica and I continued together through the Arboretum, out the other side and along 520 back towards the city.  Through these miles (about 9.5 to 11), I kept waiting for my body and mind to recover from that hill.  But right around mile 11, I realized that my body just wasn't recovering this time.  I was still breathing hard, my legs still felt like lead, and my mind started giving way, letting the whisper of a voice get a little louder.  

As we climbed another long, slow hill up to the I5 overpass in Eastlake, I suddenly felt the need to make a decision.  I let Erica slip ahead of me and slowed down a little bit.  But I still was getting my my breathing back and I still had 2 miles to go.  So I made a conscious choice.  I could struggle and fight and suffer my way through the miles, or I could walk, just for a short time and try to recover a little more.  Try to get my steam back and let myself push harder a little easier through the last miles.  I chose the latter.  I walked for what felt like to me about 2 minutes.  Looking back at my splits though, it couldn't have been more than 30-60 seconds, seeing as my slowest paced mile (mile 12) was only a 9:09 pace.  I obviously couldn't have walked that long.

As I walked, I ate a 3rd GU, focused on calming my breathing and resetting my brain.  By the time I got going again, I felt about 75% better.  Conclusion: walking isn't the end of the world.  Sometimes you just have to reset yourself and start over.  I need to remind myself of this every time I stop and walk and hate myself for it.

As I got going again, I knew there were still a few more little hills.  All I told myself was that I would run through the flats and try my best on the hills.  With each hill I hit in the last miles of the race, that nagging voice was there, pulling me back, wanting me to stop.  But the stronger voice said No.  I'd had my break, it's time to keep going now.  Even that last big hill on Mercer, just a 10th of a mile to the finish line, the hill that almost cost me my first sub-2 hour half marathon last year, that hill didn't break me.  I kept going.

After that final hill, there are about 700 flat yards to the finish line inside the stadium at Seattle Center.  In all of my races, those last 700 yards, as you enter the finish chute in cheering crowds with the finish line is sight, those last few seconds are when I push with everything I've got.  I spin my legs with all that they have left in them to cross that finish line and smile with arms raised for the camera.

But something weird happened in those 700 yards this time.  I tried to speed up, to spin my legs faster, harder, and stronger.  But I couldn't.  My brain wanted to make them go and get me there and end the final moment miseries of the race.  But I simply couldn't go any faster.  And that's when it hit me, right as I approached the finish line.  I had nothing left to give.  No strength left to push, no stamina left to carry me just a little faster.  I had left everything I had in me out on the course the day.  I didn't have an ounce of steam left in my body.  

This thought was the most rewarding thought as I crossed the finish line.  I had nothing left in me.  I had given everything to the race.  Erica even commented after I crossed the finish line and was making a mad dash for the port-a-potties that I looked a little green.  That's probably not something I should be proud of, but I am.

And so in the future, when I look back at the second time I ran the Seattle Half Marathon, I will remember my new first.  This is the first race I've run that I have literally left every ounce of myself on the course.  Retrospectively, in all my past marathons and half marathons I gave probably somewhere between 75%-95% of myself to the race.  I feel like I've always had a little left in me, which is maybe why I've always felt just a little disappointed in myself after all my races.  

But this race, on this day, I gave 100%.  Am I still a little bit upset that I walked?  Yes.  Do I still think that I could do better?  Of course.  But for today, for now, I can leave this race behind me knowing that I gave everything I had to give.  And came out with a PR that I thought I'd never achieve to top it all off.  

And it suddenly makes that sub-1:50 half marathon look absolutely achievable.  But I'll save that thought for the next one.

Those tired red eyes mean job well done.  Go us.

Amica Seattle Half Marathon: On giving it your all (Part 1)

I don't know what I was expecting from this race.  I always secretly "want" a PR.  On some days, I go into races and all I want to do is fight to the finish.  But sometimes, on other days, I know that my heart and soul aren't quite into it.  Walking into race day on Sunday, I wasn't quite sure where my heart and soul stood.  

A little over a month ago, I had an amazing feeling PR at the Nike Women's Half.  And part of the reason it felt so amazing was because it wasn't expected.  I had convinced myself on the day before the race to follow my original plan of NOT hoping for a PR.  Instead, I took each hill as it came and simply focused on getting to the top of it.  And then getting to the top of the next one.  And then a PR happened.  And it surprised the hell out of me.  Best surprise ever.

But with this race, I didn't know what to think.  I felt a little resigned.  And to be honest, if I could pick a theme word for the past month of my life, "resigned" would be it.  Resigned to the fact that I've had a cold/cough "thing" for a month that seems to fade in fits and bursts and then reappear.  Resigned to the stress at work.  Resigned to the not-so-great-feeling runs.  Resigned to the number of minor (or perhaps major) catastrophes that are taking place in my apartment right now (seriously, thank goodness for great apartment managers).  Resigned to spending money on things that aren't at the top of my list right now--a puppy ear infection vet visit, a new dresser (see previously mentioned sentence re: apartment catastrophes).  Just generally resigned to life.  Not to say that I'm unhappy--just, like I the theme word implies, resigned.

Then of course, I couldn't help but think about my performance in this race last year (side note mini celebration: I've been writing long enough to refer to a race recap I wrote last year! Resigned is not how I'd describe the feeling which that evokes).  This race was tough for me last year.  It was a mental battle and a challenge in every respect.  It was the first time I ran a half marathon in under 2 hours.  27 seconds under 2 hours, to be exact.  And remembering that battle from last year made me a little nervous for this year.

So, let's maybe call it what it is.  I was scared about this race.  And I did everything I could over my long holiday weekend to jam pack my time and avoid thinking about the race.  Wednesday after an early-release day at work and a turkey trot with my teacher running club, I went to see the new Wildlights at the Woodland Park Zoo.

Pretty fun.  Glad I visited before it got too cold out.

Thursday, I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with the people I consider to be my west coast family (Sierra and her family).  Friday, I celebrated Apple Cup and did a little fundraising in the process.  Saturday, I headed to Team in Training practice and put in 5 pre-race miles (for Goofy Challenge training, it's good for me to run a race on fairly tired legs), then frantically cleaned my apartment for 2 hours (again, see previous paragraph re: apartment catastrophes), and then went and put in 3.5 volunteer hours at the TNT booth at the race Expo.  

Look at us, TNT promoters.  I got to see a few people I haven't seen lately
while talking up a great cause.

And then, after a carb-load dinner with Erica where we made a very loose race plan (start at 8:50 pace, although Erica was pushing for 8:40), I went home and tried my best to fall asleep without thinking about the race.

Race morning, I woke up to a scratchy throat (again, surprise!) and took some ibuprofen to ward that off for a few hours.  Isn't there some sort of rule about not taking ibuprofen on race day?  I don't remember...oh well.  I didn't die.  And I didn't really care at the time--I just didn't want that awful scratchy-throat-can't-breathe feeling I've had for the past few weeks of runs to haunt me throughout the race. I wanted to be able to focus on battling just the normal running pains this race, not any extras.

I also decided last minute to change up my typical fueling plan.  I DO NOT recommend this to anyone who has not done this distance race few times.  One of the top tips that coaches always tell you is don't change ANYTHING on race day.  And it is great advice that I always heed on race days.  But this was my 7th half, and I thought maybe it was time to try something new.  And I didn't change anything too drastic.  I usually take a GU every 45 minutes and only put Nuun in my water belt.  I decided to decrease the amount of time between GUs (every 35 minutes) and put some Ironman sports drink mix into my water belt, along with some Nuun.  My past few races, I felt like I hit my wall around miles 11-12, and I wanted to see if fueling with a few more calories a little earlier on could stave that off.  

And so, Erica, Ironman Jason, and I headed down to the race, parked on a nearby side street (surprisingly easily), and then headed to the TNT booth at the finish line to hang out inside a warm building until the start.  One of the great parts of this typically cold and rainy Seattle race is that the finish line is inside a large building at Seattle Center.  Knowing typical Seattle weather, this is key for the time of year of this race.  There were also indoor, flushing toilet bathrooms here.  Way better than the typical race start port-a-potties.  Although, let me tell you (however unpleasant this is), that a pre-race public bathroom is a no-holds-barred situation.  It's all got to come out in there or else it will on the course.  And it results in a hold-your-breath-don't-listen-and-just-deal-with-it type of public situation.  Port-a-potties disguise this a little better.

Then we walked to the start line and started pushing our way through crowds to get to the faster paces at the front.  This seemed really poorly designed to me this year--the only way to get to the front was to push through from the back.  The barricades allowed no entrances from the side.  Seemed a little silly.  We ended up starting just behind the 2:15 pacer, resigned (yep, that's intentional word choice there) to the fact that we'd have to do some weaving and bobbing to get through the crowds after the start.

Me, Erica, Ironman Jason, and Ironman Joe (remember them from this summer?) all started together.  When we crossed the start line, Jason took off with an ambitious PR in his sights.  Joe, who was battling a not so great sounding chest cold kept pace with Erica a I for a bit.

And so, a mile into the race, after weaving through crowds that forced us into 9:00 first mile, I was resigned to whatever this race had in store for me and whatever my body decided it was going to do that day.

And, as is typically the case, this race surprised me in ways I never expected.

But you'll just have to wait and see how :)

100th Post! This is a BIG deal

It's kind of like the 100th day of school.  We celebrate it every year, just because it's the number 100.  Because 100 is special and round and even and pretty looking.

I've thought a lot about how to celebrate my 100th post.  100 best running moments?  100 things I love about Lucy?  That could get downright annoying.  A list of 100 sentences that I've started with the word "and"?

But when it came down to it, I felt like lately I've been stuck in a bit of a negativity rut, which is not characteristic of me.  I haven't felt great on my runs lately, I've been sick, I've been surrounded by a lot of negative thinking in the work world that I have been accidentally absorbing.  Then there's the whole political thing that just seemed to sap a lot of positivity from me as I envision what policy makers might decide to do to my job next.  All in all, I haven't had the most positive outlook lately.

So, in honor of my 100th post, which happens to fall in the thankful month of November, with the intention of turning this frown upside-down, I present to you a list.

100 Things I Am Thankful For

First, let's start with the obvious things, lest I forget them as I delve into the less obvious, more nuanced thankfulnesses (my spell check does not like that word, thankfully I can ignore that little red line):

1)  The floppy, sleepy, warm ball of fur, otherwise known as Lucy.

Because she represents all that is good in life.

2)  My family.  We may be spread across the country and across the globe, but they are the backbone of my life, quietly supporting me every step (running or walking) that I take.

3)  My friends.  All of them, from friends I've known for a lifetime to friends I only met a few months ago and friends that I haven't talked to in 6 months that I can still call up one night and talk to as if we haven't missed a beat.  My friends are the skin that holds all my pieces together.

4)  My job.  I love what I do.  I love the feeling that it gives me.  I love the school I work at, the children I teach, the colleagues I work with, the challenges that I face every day.  And even though it may get frustrating sometimes, I love that my job is filled with more smiles and waist-high hugs than I keep track of each day.

5)  Running.  Do I need to elaborate on this?  Without running, who knows how all this pent-up boundless energy would be spent.  It could be scary.

6)  Health.  Of all kinds.  Physical health, mental health, bodily health, spiritual health, other healths (sorry again spell check) that I may possess that I do not even know about.  Without all these things, I would not be able to have any of the above, previously mentioned thankfulnesses.

And now let's move on to a few of the more material items for which I am thankful:

7)  My iPhone.  The material of materials to be thankful for.  How did I know how to live before my iPhone taught me how?

8)  My apartment.  Both the physical space and the location.  I enjoy it all and appreciate that it keeps me sheltered and comfortable on cold, rainy nights after I've dried out from my run.

9)  My couch.  The most comfortable, reading, writing, cuddling, and time-wasting spot I know of.

10)  My bed. It's where I sleep.  It's wonderful.

11)  My running shoes. Without them, I would get nowhere.

12)  My GPS watch. It provides me with fun numbers to look at.  And get mad at.  And feel proud of.  And I really like numbers.  

13)  Calphalon cooking pots and pans. I love how heavy they are and how evenly they cook my food.  

14)  My new blender.  Without which I would not have had 5 days worth of butternut squash soup in my fridge.

15)  My french press. It makes such tasty coffee so quickly.

16)  Wine. The great writer's best tool.  And it tastes good.

17)  Books. Glorious books.  Audio books, Kindle books, paper books.  Wonderful books.

Pretty, illogically organized books.

18)  Throw away mini flossers.  No, they are not environmentally friendly.  Yes, buying a roll of floss would produce way less waste.  But man, they make it so easy to floss.  

19)  Candles that don't smell overly strong.  If I could light 15 candles every night, I would.  As long as they only smell faintly sweet of cinnamon apples or pumpkin spice and DON'T make my apartment smell like a headache-inducing perfume section of Macy's.

20)  Dresses.  Summer dresses.  Fall dresses.  Dresses worn in the wintertime with button-up sweaters, leggings and boots.

21)  Leggings and boots. See above.

22)  Flats. Cute ballet flats. Boots that are flat.  Converse. 

23)  Hats.  That keep the rain out of my eyes.

24)  Hoods. That keep the rain out of my hair.

25)  My Toyota Matrix. That gets me from point A to point B when I can't run or bike or swim there.

26)  Pandora.  Is that a material thing?  It's more of an airwave (really spell check?  Airwave isn't a word??), but it emanates from a material thing.  In which case...

27)  The internet.  It overwhelmingly easily connects me to everything and everyone at the touch of a typing finger.

And a few material things that get their own category: FOOD.  I could write a top 100 list of food alone, so I'm limiting myself to 10 items here.

28)  Soy sauce.
29)  Peanut Butter. (are you surprised these are my top 2?)
30)  Cheese. As much as my tummy hates it the next day, what I would give for a great taste of cheese every day.
31)  Bread. Pure comfort.
32)  August tomatoes fresh from the farmers market.
33)  Garlic.  More.  Give me more.
34)  French Onion Dip. My deepest guilty pleasure that I allow myself about once a year.
35)  Soup on a cold night.
36)  Noodles.  Of any kind.  Spaghetti, angel hair, linguine, rice noodles, lo mein noodles, egg noodles.  Slurp in your mouth, sit hearty in your belly noodles.
37)  Broccoli.  Best. Veggie. Ever.

There's so much more food, but let's move on to moments.  Because moments are the blocks that build a worthwhile, fulfilling life.  And every moment counts.

38)  Coming in a from a cold, rainy run and spending way too many moments in a scalding hot shower. Sometimes you just can't physically get yourself out.

39)  Waking up at 2 am, thinking it's time to get up.  And then realizing you still have hours more to sleep.

40)  Long runs with friends.  Because you have nothing else to do but talk, and nothing to distract you from listening besides the rhythm of your own breathing.

41)  Long runs alone.  Because sometimes all you want to hear is the rhythm of your own breathing.

42)  Cuddly puppy moments. 'Nuff said.

43)  Eerie early morning walks and smiles from early morning passersby.  Because early morning risers know something about each other without even having to speak.  We are ready to take on the day.  And we will wake up early because we're so excited to get started.

44)  Talking to an old friend after a few months and feeling like you just talked yesterday. Because it's great when it's just that easy.

45)  Feeling the heat of sunshine touch your skin for the first time in weeks...or months.  Because it's amazing that something can touch you that deeply from so far away.

46)  Puppy dreams.  Eye-blinking, nose-twitching, feet-kicking, close-mouthed-barking puppy dreams.

47)  Seeing your parents for the first time in weeks, or months, or longer. Because that little kid is still there inside you somewhere.

48)  Going to bed early. And knowing that tomorrow will be so much better because of it.
49)  Rainy Sundays when you have nothing to do. And can't feel guilty about doing nothing but curling up with a good book or movie.
50)  Hearing a song just when you need to. When the lyrics speak your thoughts and the rhythm reaches your soul.
51) When the light turns green just as you are hitting the brakes. And then you get to zoom right by the guy sitting in the next lane.
52)  When the light stays red, and you are totally OK with it. Because sometimes, it's great not to be in a rush.
53)  The sound of ginger hitting a hot pan of sesame oil and the burst of scent it releases. Because soon, peanut butter and soy sauce will also be joining in the sizzling fun.
54)  The smile on a first grader's face when something clicks.  They just learned.  And you watched it happen.
55)  The feeling of comfort.  Comfort in being alone.  Comfort in being with family and friends.  Comfort in sharing time with someone you love.  Comfort in being who you are, where you are, doing what you're doing.
56)  Seeing an old picture. From a time you forgot about, a place you forgot about, a moment that had ceased to exist.  And then there it is.
57)  Sincere smiles.  Real, whole bodied, sincere smiles.
58)  Birthdays.  And getting to hear from all the people you love on one day.
59)  Taking the first step into freshly fallen, perfectly even snow. Because no one else did that yet.  You took the first step.
60)  Accomplishing something you've worked hard for.  Crossing a finish line, taking a diploma, ignoring the call of the snooze button for several months in a row.
61)  Seeing the face of someone else accomplishing something they've work hard for.  Smiles, tears, hugs, and joy.
62)  Walking in bare feet across a recently vacuumed carpet.  So fluffy.
63)  Turning on the car and seeing you have a full tank of gas.  I smile every time.
64)  Writing with a sharp pencil.  So perfect.
65)  Seeing the first flowers of spring or the first colors of fall.  Knowing that a new season is on its way.
66)  Forming the perfect sentence.  That expresses exactly what you wanted to say in the exact way you wanted to say it at the exact right time.
67)  Having a good cry.  Until your eyes are puffy and red and your chest is sore from the sobbing.  I don't have enough of these under my belt.
68)  Going "home" for the first time after realizing that it's not really your home anymore.  But still feeling like it is.
69)  Crawling into bed with freshly washed sheets. Especially if they're still warm from the dryer.
70)  Losing yourself in the pages of a book.  And realizing that for a moment, you forgot everything except the world in those pages.

And now on to a random compilation of things:

71)  A clean, empty sink devoid of dirty dishes.
72)  Words.  Of all kinds, in all places, in every sense.  Perfect words.
73)  Laughter. Belly-aching, can't-hold-it-in-if-you-tried laughter.
74)  Brushing your teeth after you've just woken up.
75)  A perfectly blue sky.  Not a single cloud.
76)  Pushing up the hill when you just don't think you can run any further.  And then turning around and getting to run back down it.
77)  Standing in the rain on purpose.  No umbrella.  No hood.  Letting it soak you and drip from your fingertips.
78)  Jumping in puddles.  Lucy taught me the joy of plowing through the deepest ones.
79)  Cold, wet animal noses.
80)  Smelling a familiar smell.  Letting it drag you unexpectedly back in time.
81)  Round numbers.  Because they're almost like perfection.
82)  Candid pictures.  What made us all decide to turn and smile every single time the camera comes out?
83)  Curiosity.  It doesn't always kill the cat.
84)  Bananas. Sneaking this one in because it missed the top 10 food list.  Bananas are a mental running crutch for me.  And they're so good when perfectly ripe.
85)  Wiggling your toes into the wet sand.  Letting it slowly cover your feet, sinking in to your ankles.
86)  Riding your bike down a big hill.  Fast and without fear.
87)  Surprises.  Whether you wanted them or not.
88)  Doing something that scares you. Pushing the limits just a little too far.
89)  Push button lights. I find them more satisfying than switches.
90)  Finding exactly what you're looking for.  Whatever it is.

Finally, rounding it all out, a list of all the feelings I'm thankful for.  Because feelings are what make us human.  They are what make all the 90 things I listed above meaningful.
91)  Gratitude.
92)  Compassion.
93)  Anger. That leads to positive action.
94)  Sadness.
95)  Fulfillment.
96)  Loneliness.
97)  Determination.
98)  Optimism
99)  Joy.

and of course,

100) Love.

Because, in the words of one of my favorite holiday movies, "Love actually is all around."  All you have to do is look.

Well, there it is.  The incomplete, not at all comprehensive or all-inclusive list of things I'm thankful for on this momentous day of my 100th blog post.  Thanks for sticking with me through it all.  I hope you stick around for the next 100.  I can't promise you anything more than the truth.  But hopefully that's enough.

Let's get interactive:  What are you most thankful for?  What glaring things did I forget?

Share with me.  I selfishly need your good positive vibes right now.