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.

I like "me time"

Despite the 50 degree, cloudy, rain-threatening weather today, I felt a sudden summertime flashback.  This past summer was all about doing things for me, that I wanted to do (see my Summer Goals Report Card for a summary of how that went).

Since school started back up in September, that "All About Me" feeling has all but disappeared.  I've still been trying to find time for things I enjoy where I can squeeze it in, but life seems to be focused on other things right now (teaching and all its many varied tasks, fundraising, captaining Team in Training winter team, etc.).

So today, as I reminded myself to thank all the veterans I know (seriously, thank you veterans--you've sacrificed more than I could ever imagine!), I also enjoyed a relaxing day that was all about me.  This day off took me a little by surprise.  In the chaotic stress combined with never-ending cold that I've been dealing with the past couple weeks, it somehow slipped my mind until last Wednesday that I had today off.  It was certainly a pleasant surprise as I frantically prepped my room and my mind for Parent-Teacher Conferences on Thursday and Friday.

In a way, I'm kind of glad I didn't realize ahead of time.  In case you haven't noticed this about me yet, I'm kind of a planner.  I like to know what I'm doing and when I'm doing it far in advance.  So by not knowing about this wonderful extra day, I wasn't able to plan anything.  It was just plopped in my lap, free and open to do with as I pleased.

So what did I do?  Let me tell you with more detail than you could ever possibly really want to know:

First, I slept in.  After watching the Sounders bomb their playoff game against LA Galaxy last night, I came home and proceeded to fall asleep with a glass of wine while watching Game of Thrones on my couch.  I woke up at midnight to take Lucy out real quick and then roll into bed.  And then I didn't wake up again until 9:30 am.  It was glorious.  I'm still sick and I think my body is grasping at straws for any amount of sleep it can get.

I gave myself a lazy couple hours. I ate some yogurt and granola for breakfast, caught up on some blog reading (my Google reader is encroaching on the triple digits for unread blog posts, and that's after I weaned out some I'm no longer interested in), and snuggled with Lucy in my PJs for a little while.

I went for a run.  Of course.  Because on any day that is all about me, running will certainly be involved.  I was a little nervous for this run though.  For over a week, I've been battling a hellish cold.  I've been experiencing every cold symptom possible, only on consecutive days.  It started with the headache/body aches last weekend.  Then progressed to a sore throat on Monday and Tuesday.  On Wednesday, I almost completely lost my voice (my 1st graders loved a day of "teacher with no voice").  By Thursday the voice was starting to come back, but a hacking cough and sniffles were starting (really great to have to cough for 3 solid minutes in the middle of a parent-teacher conference), and by Friday and Saturday the cough was persistent and combined with chest congestion.  It was another great week.  My long run on Saturday was miserable again.  It didn't help that we were on a super hilly course and I had 14 miles to run.  Every time I went up a hill, I simply couldn't catch my breath or get enough oxygen into my body.  My legs felt like lead.  Literally.  I managed to make it 13.4 miles, but it wasn't pretty or fast.  So when I decided to aim for a 5 miler this morning, I was nervous.  But it went surprisingly well.  I managed to keep up a 9 minute even pace, which while still in recovery from this cold thing I think is pretty good.  I didn't feel like I was dying.  Lucy kept up pace really well.  All in all I count it as a win.

I relaxed for a little longer.  This was a little forced, because my landlord sent the handyman over to check out my bedroom window, which was slowly become encrusted in a not-so-friendly looking mold (I know, not good).  But, he bleached everything down pretty well, recaulked all the seams, and seemed pretty confident I wouldn't die of mold inhalation.  So, another win there.  And while I was waiting, I caught up on more blog reading, although the number of unread posts doesn't seem to be getting any smaller.

I went shopping.  This is not usually an enjoyable experience for me, but it was fun shopping.  Not real clothes shopping or anything.  I hopped over to Roadrunner to get a new headlamp and a light to put on Lucy's collar, now that we're doing a lot of night running.  I went up to the mall to grab some perfume that I've been out of for weeks (sorry if I haven't been smelling pretty), and resisted the urge to step into the new Nordstrom Rack that opened up at Northgate--I probably would have suffocated and left anyways, because I'm allergic to real shopping.  Then I went grocery shopping and bought lots of fun veggies to experiment with.

I cooked.  Like real cooking.  Ever since my somewhat spastically written Food Conundrum post (for anyone still curious, the persimmon is slowly but surely withering away as it stares at me every time I open my fridge and I feel as though throwing it away would admit defeat and incompetence), I've actually been doing a really good job of cooking different things.  I've only been making soy sauce and peanut butter stir fry once (maybe twice) a week.  I've made roasted squash, broccoli cous cous, quinoa, sauteed brussels sprouts, and udon noodle soup, to name a few things.  But today, I had real time to cook.  And as I wandered around the grocery store, it popped into my head that I really wanted butternut squash soup.  So I bought a butternut squash, some sage, onion, and veggie broth and hoped to death that anything else I needed I already had at home.  And I did.

And it was delicious.

I wrote.  Or am currently writing.  Whatever tense I put it in, I haven't been doing enough of it lately.  These insane ramblings actually work towards keeping me sane in daily life, so I need to get better at finding time to write again.  

And now I will read.  And then sleep.  And hopefully not procrastinate for the next 30 minutes and therefore prevent myself from getting a full 7 hours of sleep.  

And then I will tackle this shortened week knowing that I had my selfish, all-about-me day.  So I can dedicate the rest of the week to everything else.  Here goes.

Speaking of sacrifice and dedication: see you at the Ballard Station Public House at 6:30 for Sports Trivia on Wednesday night!!  Proceeds benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  Not me.

Stress-induced rainbows

I was sick this weekend.  Scratchy-throat, hoarse-voice, body-aching, hot-toddy-demanding, sick.  Long-run-missing sick.  And I was sad and upset and frustrated, but I was also thankful.  Because I didn't have to miss any work days.

When did I become adult enough to think that, if I have to get sick, I'm glad the illness chooses to attack me over the weekend?  I mean, really, when did "being sick" go from being the semi-joyful get-out-of-school-free card to the crap-I-need-to-suffer-through-work card?  It's just too stressful to be sick during the work week.

And that brings me quickly to today's topic: stress.  In college and high school, I thought that stress was a self-imposed state of mind.  That with enough forethought and proper time management, stress could be avoided.  This is not to say that I didn't feel stress, and plenty of it, it's just that I thought it was my fault.  I thought I was feeling it because I made poor choices.  And all my stressed-out classmates were making poor choices too.  Because we were kids, and kids make poor choices for so many reasons.

But now, at the old and wise age of 28 and 5/6ths (please note the sarcasm in that statement), I realize that some stress is unavoidable.  No matter how much you try to stay in control of the car of life, sometimes there are just bigger cars, more powerful forces than fuel, or even simple wear and tear that drag your little car off its intended course.  As much as you try to avoid it and stay in control in the driver's seat, sometimes life just happens to you.

And this past week, man I felt like work life was certainly happening to me.  And it had absolutely nothing to do with the kids.  Or even the act of teaching itself for that matter.  There's a teaching blog I read written by a few National Board Certified Washington State teachers (www.storiesfromschool.org), and for the month of October they chose as their theme to write about the "invisibles" of teaching.  All those things that anyone not in the teaching world never gets to see or hear about.  All the daily (or sometimes not daily) minutia of being a teacher--all the planning, training, grading, reading, thinking, talking, pencil sharpening, copy-making, classroom managing, behavior managing, reflecting, meetings, meetings, and more meetings--that are an integral and exhausting part of the world of teaching.

Last week, I felt like I was drowning under the invisibility cloak of teaching (yes, that was a Harry Potter reference).  Only my close colleagues, trapped under the invisibility cloak with me, could see me drowning.  But they couldn't help, because they were drowning too.  Drowning in grading, report cards, meetings, trying to understand a new grading system that no one quite understands yet, trying to fit it all into the little amount of time allowed in the day.

And all the while, Hurricane Sandy was ravaging NYC and the rest of my home state and those that neighbor it--literally drowning those places and some of their inhabitants--making me feel guilty for wallowing in my metaphorical drowning.  And where do you go from there?

So, instead of employing my typical stress-relief strategies, which involve a lot of awkward self-talk: "Calm down Tessa, it's all going to be OK...The world will not end...Life will go on...You will get through this like everything else...In 5 days, you'll look back at this week and laugh...You will get it all done, have faith in yourself..." (luckily most of this talk happens in my head), I freaked out.  I even almost contemplated skipping my Tuesday run with the Team (thank goodness I didn't, it was the best thing that happened all week).  Instead, I got angry.  I got frustrated.  I got stressed.

And then I got sick.  Big.  Surprise.  I never get seriously sick (except for the whole STP disappointment, but that's another story).  Despite being surrounded by 23 snotty, coughing, sneezing, non-hand-washing 1st graders, I typically have an immune system of STEEL.  But on Friday, as I stumbled my way through the day, trying to check off items on my to-do list--skipping what had to be one of the most entertaining after school staff baby showers known to humans--I felt myself getting sicker and sicker.  The throat growing scratchier and more painful.  The neck becoming so painful I couldn't turn my head.  The headache pounding deeper and deeper.  And I blame it on the stress.  My body didn't want to handle it.  At the end of the day, all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.  For ever.  But I couldn't.  Because I had invisibles to take care of.

I knew it was bad.  I pre-warned Erica, who I had planned to carpool with to Saturday practice, on Friday evening with this oh-so-eloquent text:

Not so creative with words when I'm sick.

I thought I could rally.  I thought I could make it to my long run--there were 110 minutes on the schedule (probably about 12+ miles), and I wanted to run.  When I was training for the Victoria Marathon, I had a completely clogged nose and sinuses that oh-so-nicely cleared up for the duration of the run, then reversed vacuumed itself back after I was done.

But not this time.  My 6:15 alarm went off and the thought of getting out of bed, let alone running 12+ miles seemed PAINFUL.  So Erica, being the wonderful friend and person she is, came and picked up the supplies I needed to deliver to practice that day, and picked up Ironman/Coach Jason (who I was also planning to deliver to practice that day) from his place nearby.  I said a very hoarsey-voiced, disgruntled thank you and proceeded to go back to sleep until 11 AM.  I slept for 13+ hours.

Then I did some work for 3 hours.  Then I fell asleep again for 3 hours.  Then I ordered egg flower soup (AKA egg drop soup) from the Chinese restaurant down the street for dinner, watched a few episodes of Game of Thrones, and fell asleep for another 9 hours.

Sunday, when I woke up, I wanted to run.  I still only felt about 70%, but I wanted to get my long run in. I was determined.  So at 9 am, I stepped out the door, ran Lucy on an extended loop around Green Lake, about 4.5 miles, dropped her off, and then suffered through another 6+ miles.  It was slow.  There were walk breaks on hills involved.  It was painful.  But I got it done.

Because I could.  Because Hurricane Sandy did not destroy my home or family or life.  Because I was not so sick that I could move my legs and get my body going (like at those people with blood cancers that I'm raising money and running for).  Because stress would not bring me down.

Earlier in the week, in a fog of stress as I was driving home from work, I saw this:

A rainbow and a burst of sun on a gloomy,rain-filled Seattle day.  Not the
first I've seen in the past few weeks.

And as I was driving, trying not to get in a car accident while staring at it, I was thinking.  Even though Seattle sees more rain than most cities out there, we also get to see way more rainbows.  And the more rainy days we have, the more beautiful rainbows we get to see.

And now, as I look back on this past week of stress and sickness, I realize that sometimes you may feel like you've lost control in the driver's seat, or you're drowning under an invisibility cloak.  Sometimes life happens to you.  But you'll get through it.  You'll take back control and start swimming again.  And then when you see the sun, and the rainbow at the end of the road, it'll seem all the brighter.