I need a brain break

My brain is tired.  I think it needs a break.  In first grade, we take a 10 minute "brain break" after our lunch recess every day.  With the lights turned down and children resting at their tables, this is the most calm, quiet, soothing time of our entire day.

I've had some very clear signs this week that my brain needs some rest:
-Tuesday morning I woke up to find my bottle of soy sauce, typically housed in the door of the fridge, nestled on the top shelf of my dish cabinet.
-Today, as I left the parking lot of the school I've been stationed at for training this week, I was frantically waved down and stopped by a 5th grader who informed me that my water bottle was still sitting on the top of my car.
-On several occasions, I've walked from the living room to the kitchen, or kitchen to bedroom, or bedroom to living room, or any combination thereof, and completely forgotten why.  If I'd been at my own school this week, I'm sure there would have been many fruitless walks across the classroom or down the hallway as the purpose for these trips slipped right out of my brain.

Even Lucy is getting fed up with my brainlessness:

She takes her personal blindfolds out when she gets sick
of me.

Looking forward into the month of March, I'm a little concerned that my brain may just about die out completely by March 31st.

March is JAM PACKED with running fun.  It starts off this weekend with the Hot Chocolate 15K.  Then 2 weeks later, the St. Patty's Day Dash, which is a little over a 5K.  And the week after that, the Mercer Island Half Marathon.  Mid-month, we start hill reps for my Seattle RNR marathon training.  And of course, my favorite date this year, March 10th, is coming up soon and I'll be able to enjoy some relaxed post-work runs in the daylight without fear that the dark with encroach too soon.

Add to that 2 Sounders games, Team in Training practices, being a track coach for our Kinder though 2nd grade kiddos, and many well-deserved weekend naps, and you have what I would call a very busy month.

But what I'm telling myself in my positive teacher voice is: I'm looking forward to kicking the February doldrums to the curb and getting re-motivated to eat healthy and do a lot of mindless running.  And by "mindless" running, I mean runs where I think about nothing of any importance except the joys that running brings.

And at the end of it all, I will be rewarded with Spring Break.  Where I'm pretty sure I will sit immobile on my couch for a week straight, fighting with Lucy for leg space.

In order to prep myself for this excitingly busy month, I have bought myself some fancy new Mizuno kicks:

Color!!! Yay!  Been waiting on these guys a few weeks
now.  Apparently there is a rash of new large-footed
runners out there demanding my shoe size.

I've been a dedicated Brooks fan for the past 3 years, so I feel some pangs of guilt making the switch.  But as I ran around Green Lake today, I couldn't help but look down and admire my bright feet every now and then.  Brooks hasn't caught on to the bright shoe trend for their Adrenaline's yet and I also finally realized that maybe I should look for a little bit of a lighter shoe.  These feel like they're about half the weight of my Brooks.

I'm not giving up on my Brooks completely (I still feel loyal to them and have a pair that are no where close to worn out yet), but I'm excited to be in something new.  

One of these things is not like the others, one of these
things just doesn't belong (if you're not singing that
in Big Bird's voice, I don't know what universe you
grew up on)...hint: ignore the converse.

So, armed with new running shoes and a positive attitude, I am going to enter the month of March with an enthused smile.  My brain may completely give out on me by the end, but I've got 23 little first graders and one little puppy dog who are experts at reminding me of every little thing I've forgotten throughout the day (in the classroom, we often have "let's find Ms. Kaplan's iPad [or water bottle or marker or any other thing of importance]" hunts).

And then I will take a big, huge, deep breath and collapse for a week as I get recharged and re-energized and give myself a brain break before the final stretch of the school year.  

And possibly start training for a mid-summer half Ironman...

I apologize in advance for forgetting to do that thing that I promised you I would do in the month of March.  I probably had really good intentions and then my brain malfunctioned.

Wish me luck.

My body is telling me something

I am acutely aware of my body.

I realize that statement can be interpreted in many ways, so let me explain.

I remember as a kid one summer, that I got stung by a bee (or so we supposed).  I remember not realizing that I had been stung, or that anything had happened to me at all until, as I was wandering around the decks of our neighborhood pool, I looked down and noticed that my ankle had swelled to the size of a large grapefruit.  Once I looked down and saw it, I suddenly felt the warmth and pain inside the swelling.

Until seeing the swollen results of the "bee sting" (I've surmised that this is what we called the incident simply because it was the only thing that seemed to logically explain the random swelling that disappeared within a day), I did not realized that anything was wrong with me.  I had no idea how to listen to my body.

Sometimes I look at my first graders as they fall ill throughout a day and simply complain of feeling "tired" if they complain at all, but then get a paper cut that bleeds and this results in an uncontrollable need to take a trip to the nurse.  Because look, "IT"S BLEEDING!"  And I think to myself, they have SO much to learn about themselves.

As a full grown adult, I have learned much about my body since my childhood days.  I attribute much of this to age, maturity (yep, claiming to be mature), and life experience.  But I also attribute a great deal of my body awareness to running.

Running has taught me how to truly listen to my body.  To listen to what it needs, and what it wants, and what it most certainly does NOT want.  It's taught me to pay attention to the little twinges and aches and pains, but not to freak out about them.  It's taught me to feel my energy level, my hydration level, my hunger needs...and to listen to them.  Running has taught me that my body is capable of just about anything, as long as I take care of it and treat it nicely.

As a kid, I didn't notice when my body was unhappy with me.  So it didn't matter.  If I was grumpy or sad or tired or upset or happy or energetic or any sort of feeling, I didn't think it had anything to do with my body.  My skin was the bag that carried around these bones and muscles that allowed me to swim and climb trees and ride bikes.  I didn't care too much about it.  And luckily, it survived.

But now, as a "mature," adult runner, I realize that my body is the foundation for everything I do.  And what I choose to do to my body and put into my body is directly reflected in the outcomes of my day.

I used to be a naysayer.  Yeah right, being Gluten Free makes you feel better, I'd think.  It's all in your head.  A cleanse?? Really?  Such a fad follower.  South Beach Diet.  Atkins.  Jenny Craig.  Eliminate carbs.  Go fat free.  Be a juicer.  Splenda instead of sugar.  No salt.  Fiber, fiber, fiber!

All these things probably have some sort of research proving their effectiveness (I would hope), but the fad diets of the media always overwhelmed me and seemed ridiculous.  And to a certain extent, I still think they are.  I don't necessarily believe in "dieting."  I believe in changing the way you eat in a sustainable, livable way.  A way that you can sustain for the rest of your life.  A fad diet may work for a few months until you realize that all you really want to do is eat that bagel, and then another one, and another, and it all falls to crap.

Random picture of Lucy naughtily on the couch when she's
not allowed that you've all probably already seen on FB
because I have no other relevant pictures for this wordy
post.  She's adorable even when making bad choices.

I don't want to sound too judging here, because food and I have always gotten along pretty well.  All my life, I've been a relatively healthy eater.  As a kid, my favorite snack was cherry tomatoes in ranch dressing.  Or a pickle.  I've never been a sweet or dessert person.  I love fruits and vegetables.  I cut out red meat and pork from my diet when I was 12 (I wanted to save the poor cows and pigs) and haven't knowingly eaten either of these things since.  Fighting weight has never been a major problem for me.

Don't get me wrong though--I certainly have my weaknesses.  I will eat an entire large bags of chips in one sitting.  I LOVE SALT.  And dips for the salt.  Oh man--french onion dip, ranch, salsa, spinach and artichoke dip, smoked salmon dip.  I found a mean recipe for a jalapeno popper dip on Pinterest.  To. Die. For.  Not healthy in any way.

And fried food.  Chicken strips.  Fries.  Tots.  Fish and chips.  Onion blossoms at the fair are one of my favorite things.  All coated in salt.

And cheese.  Cheese, cheese and more cheese.  I want ALL the cheese.

Oh wait, here's a semi relevant picture.  Saw this guy
sitting outside the grocery store and laughed out loud.
Didn't know they still existed.  I don't eat Oscar Meyer Wieners.
Or any hot dogs.  I refused to eat those by about the age of 6.

There's a point to all this rambling here.  I'm getting to it, promise.

In general though, I'm a pretty healthy eater.  And being more acutely aware of my body has also made me more acutely aware of my body's reaction to the types of foods I eat.  When I eat a cupcake for a first grade birthday party, half an hour later I'm grumpy and have a sugar headache.  And dairy and I don't really get along.

Before I became obsessed with running marathons (when I was just plain old running), I had developed some really good eating habits.  I had decreased my portion sizes, ate a salad before my dinner every night, made my own lunch every day, and mostly stayed away from my weaknesses minus some minor guilt-free indulgences (which I think everyone deserves once in a while, if you can keep it to just once in a while).  I was really proud of my eating habits.

Lately, not so much.  I've been eating out a lot.  I've been indulging on cheese.  I haven't been eating my daily salads.  I've been buying frozen lunches.  I've been eating a lot of chips.  And I'm starting to see it in the mirror, which isn't so fun (side note: I don't weigh myself ever--I judge my weight based on how I feel when I look in the mirror, which is all that really matters to me).

And I think my body is starting to yell at me.  A couple weeks ago, I even tried to appease it by switching to soy milk in my morning cereal and coffee.  This has been awesome because the tennis ball that seemed to reside in my stomach after a milky morning has completely disappeared.  Instead of feeling heavy and icky when I get to school, I feel light and ready to go.  I've been slowly trying to phase out most dairy.  Today I got a soy latte instead of a regular latte, and my typical post-latte tummy ache was nonexistent.  But I've been eating a lot of cheese too.  Which defeats the purpose.

Today, I felt like crap on the way home from work.  I had an all day training and went out for Teriyaki for lunch (we teachers don't get to go out for lunch too often, so we take advantage when we can).  Then I had a meeting after the all day training where dinner was provided and ate two extremely greasy, cheesy pieces of pizza.  So on the drive home, I felt that heaviness in my tummy that makes me uncomfortable and disappointed in my choices for the day.

And I'm just going to mention in an aside here the minor fact that I've been sick for almost 2 months straight, and it's been about 2 months that I've been lax in the food choice category.  Perhaps there's a correlation?

I promised you a point to this post, so here it is.  I've been doing a great job of taking care of my body athletically.  I've been running and then mixing things up with boot camp and yoga.  I've been changing routines in an effort to treat my body more kindly instead of pounding pavement every day.  But my eating habits have slipped.

So I'm going to set a new goal for myself here on the internet (I've found that publicly set internet goals tend to work for me, even if no one is actually holding me accountable for them--for example, I still haven't touched that snooze button since August).  I want to get back to feeding my body well.  I want to make my own lunches again.  I want to eat a salad with dinner and go back to taking more time to cook like I used to.  I want to pay attention to the dairy, meat, and other substances that don't work for me and limit them.  I want to continue phasing out dairy, even though I will never give up cheese (has anyone tried soy yogurt before?  I bought some from Trader Joe's and it's staring at me in my fridge, but I'm kind of scared).  I want to be smarter about what I'm ordering when going out to eat.  And go out to eat less.

So, I may be two months late with this, but here is my official New Year's/last year in my 20s resolution:  Get back to eating better.  Continue to pay attention to what my body likes and what it doesn't.  And adjust accordingly.  And then feel better and be even happier.

Ready...go.

February doldrums

I think I'm in the depth of the February doldrums.  Winter has been here for a while, but the sun is slowly giving us little tastes of what soon will be.  I'm beginning to feel the hope of spring, but the also the frustration of still knowing that there is much time to wait.

The days are steadily stretching.  It's been a little light out if I don't leave for work earlier than 7.  And after work, the sun seems to be sticking around just a little longer.  But not quite long enough.  I still feel as though I'm stuck in the dark days of winter when I leave for work in the dark, get home in the dark, and never see daylight from my windowless classroom.

I'm counting down the days until March 10th...

Ok...I was going to provide a "do-it-yourself" task here to figure out the significance of March 10th, but I did a little Google pre-search to see what you'd end up with, and here's what I got:

Number 3 is my favorite.  The International Day of Awesomeness
because it is Chuck Norris's birthday.  Did you know that Chuck Norris
has never done a marathon?  That makes me super awesome.

But none of those reasons are why I'm looking forward to March 10th.  March 10th is, in fact, the start of daylight savings time!  Yay, daylight!  I've so missed you.  Even if you're gloomy, covered in clouds, and blurred by the rain, I find you better than perpetual darkness.  Especially after the events of last week.

Today, as I contemplated the topic of this overdue post, I wanted to write about my February doldrums.  And my constant displeasure with constant illness.  And my frustration with being very tired most of the time.  And my unfailing uneasiness while out of doors at night.  And my seemingly strained patience level with my talkative 1st graders.  And my annoyance at substitute teachers that keep cancelling my upcoming 4-day job.   And my decision that internet dating totally sucks (yeah, probably wouldn't have written about that anyways, but it totally does--and I've made that decision a few times before but somehow get sucked back into it).  And my displeasure at the prospect of a tiring busy day tomorrow when I'm already feeling tired and over-spent.

And all the other little frustrations of everyday life that can cause the doldrums.

But wallowing in my doldrums will not help anyone, including myself.  So I'm going to flip this Negative Nelly attitude on it's head and force a "Thankful Things Thursday" out of this brain, Ali on the Run style.  Because I have a whole lot to be thankful for, big and small.  And a few little doldrums won't make me forget that.

So today, here's what I'm thankful for:

I'm thankful for the little taste of daylight I got this week.  I had Monday and Tuesday off for "Midwinter Break" and the weather in Seattle was beautiful.  My favorite thing to do when I have a day off is to go to the zoo.  I live within 5 minute's walking distance of the zoo and I am a member, which I means I get for free as often as I want.  So on Monday, I got to hang out with my favorite zoo buddies in the great day-lit outdoors with wild animals.

Are these zoo buddies or wild animals?  I don't know.  It's apparently the best
way to see the hidden Arctic Fox.  And a little test--how long will it take Ryan
and David to read the blog and get mad at me for posting this picture on the
internet??

I'm thankful Lucy and I had some daytime walks.  The vast majority of our walks in the past few months have been in the dark, both morning and night.  So some carefree daylight walks through the neighborhood park on my days off were just what we needed.  

Then she stared at me exasperatedly from "her"end of the
couch as I tried to stretch my legs out.  Apparently I'm not
allowed on that end of the couch anymore.  But she gets
to come on my side all she wants.  I am not complaining.
I am thankful.

I'm starting to really like my new exercise outlets.  I did an hour-long class on my Yoga Studio app on Sunday and liked it way better than the 30 minute class I've been doing the past couple weeks.  More time in the stretches, more relaxation, and a little more time to feel like my body is warming up to the moves.  And Boot Camp is kicking my butt in a good way every week.  I'm starting to see muscles where I haven't before.

I'm taking it easy with the running and am ok with it.  It's been a long time since my lungs and sinuses have felt normal.  And now my ears are beginning to plug and pop with some regularity too.  So when I have a week like this week where I have only gotten 2 runs in so far, I'm learning to be ok with it.  I need to figure out how to get healthy first.  And I'm thankful for my ability to try to make that a priority over running without freaking out.

I'm thankful for heat.  Heat blasting out of car vents after a cold day in the windowless classroom.  Heat turned up just a little too high in my small apartment.  Heat from a steamy shower after a cold rainy run.  Body heat from the exasperated but tolerant puppy on the other end of the couch keeping my toes warm.  Heat from a fuzzy blanket or down comforter.  Heat in the winter time is the best feeling ever, especially after you've been cold.

I'm thankful for red wine.  It's tasty.  It's great in the winter.  It's perfect to pair with a fuzzy blanket, cozy couch, puppy toe-warmer, and idea-filled writer's brain.

I'm thankful that tomorrow is Friday again.  I've only worked 2 days so far this week.  And tomorrow is Friday.  That is a great feeling.

I'm thankful I'm finally off the waiting list for the Insurgent audiobook at the library.  It is downloaded to my phone and waiting to be listened to.  Tris and Tobias will have my rapt attention for a few days.

I'm thankful for all the kind, caring, worried messages after last week's post.  Hearing how badly you all want me to stay safe and be smart makes me feel all warm and fuzzy from the inside out.  And hearing that my opinion helped voice the opinions of others was reassuring as well.

I'm thankful for Team in Training.  Because we're doing everything we can to make this come true:

Someday is today.

I'm thankful for my sister, whose birthday is today.  Happy Birthday big sis!!  I'm sending you hugs of love that span all the oceans and lands that separate us.  Lucy sends a slobbery kiss too.

I was looking for a fun kitty-themed birthday picture for cat-lover sister.
I found this instead.  I think it's totally birthday-worthy.

Yep, being thankful really does work.  February doldrums are faded for now and I'm am reminded of just how awesome my life really is.  I have very little to complain about.

Come March 10th, I'll be celebrating Chuck Norris's International Day of Awesomeness harder than Chuck Norris.  Life is good.

It's not fair

On the way home from work today, I was really grumpy.  I was grumpy as I walked into my apartment.  And I was grumpy as I speed-walked as far as I could to get Lucy some sort of quality walk in before it got dark out.  I fully intended to spend my evening writing an angry, bitter blog post.  I wanted to complain and moan about circumstances frustratingly far out of my realm of control.  And I probably will get around to a little complaining at some point here.

But then I went for a run.

I ran with 2 trusty men by my side to keep me nice and safe in the dark (information for those that are worried--and for those who aren't, I'll explain why one might be in a bit).

And as usual, running made everything better.  The tension I've had in my back and neck all week released.  I forgot that I've been incessantly sick for about 2 months, and it seems to only be getting worse right now.  I forgot that work has been overwhelming.  I forgot that my routines have gone completely out of whack this week.  I forgot that I'm currently running on very little sleep.  I felt good.

I ran, I talked, I laughed, I smiled.  I breathed a deep breath for what seemed like the first time in a few days.

Now, I'm sitting at home eating leftovers and popcorn for dinner.  And I'm completely OK with that.  Even if it is Valentine's Day.

And for those cynics out there, no I was not grumpy because it is Valentine's Day.  Despite the fact that I have been routinely single on most Valentine's Days throughout my life, it is not a holiday I hate.

I mean, really.  How many Valentines did you have today?  Cause I had pretty close to 30.  Beat that.  Did your Valentine's loot come anything close to this?:

Somehow a not-so-sneaky nose made an appearance in this picture.  Sorry
little lady, you will not be getting any chocolate today.  Or any other day.

First graders (and former first graders) know how to show the love on Valentine's Day.  It should take me a number of weeks to make it through all those Spongebob candy Valentines.

I may have felt grumpy all day, but I smiled a lot too.  Because Valentine's Day in first grade is probably the most exciting day of the year.  And by the end of the day, I managed to allow myself to embrace the chaos and make it through.

So...why the grumpiness?  Get ready for a quick change of mood here.

If you aren't a local Seattlite, take a quick browse of this local news article.  In short summary, 4 women were attacked with sexual intent over the course of 4 days from Friday evening to Monday morning.  And all of these attacks happened in neighborhoods closely bordering my own.  The closest attack was just over 20 blocks from my apartment.  All attacks were in the dark (ranging between the times of 8:30 pm to 6:30 am) aimed at women running or walking by themselves.

Something I do quite often.

The one that hit closest to home for me (metaphorically, not literally) happened on the northern outer loop of Green Lake at 6:30 am Monday morning.  My running path.  At a time very close to when I've been out there.  Alone (albeit with Lucy).  In the dark.  Also, just an hour later and a quick jaunt away from my Monday morning Lucy walk.

I'm not typically someone who bases my life around fear of uncontrollable, probably unlikely to occur, circumstances.  I've always prided myself in the past on being "stronger" than letting those things control my life.  But there's a vast difference between being "strong" and being "naive."  And, as with the recent events at Sandy Hook, I could see myself in those victims.  I could see it easily having been me too.

So, literally the day after writing an extensive blog post about my addiction to my routines, I had to suddenly alter my daily structures.  30 minute walk with Lucy in the morning on a route that took me just 5 blocks away from one of the attacks?  Nope, that wasn't happening.  Typical post-work run by myself in the waning light after work?  Nope, not happening either.

Wednesday morning after hearing about the attacks, I woke up, itching to take my little pup out for a walk.  I did walk her, but instead of plugging in my earbuds and walking the 15 blocks north I normally do, I called my mom and kept her on the phone with me as I walked less than 10 blocks north past all the open coffee shops/grocery stores with people in them, then turned around and speed-walked home.

This morning, I only walked the short 3 blocks north to the open Starbucks (long enough for Lucy to do her business), then turned around and went home.  And as I walked the 3 blocks back to my apartment, I got angry.  I wanted to walk my dog.  I wanted to feel free to live my life as I usually do in my typically safe neighborhood.  I wanted to feel safe as I walk down a well lit, fairly high traffic street at 5:30 am.

*Note: I realize when looking at the bigger picture that these complaints are completely first world, selfish problems, but they are my life and I feel I have a right to be upset by them.*

And then it just threw off the rest of the day.  I was so preoccupied with being angry and scared (while figuring out how to fit first grade Valentine's festivities into an already busy day in my head) that I forgot where I was supposed to meet co-worker carpool buddies Natalie and Stephanie for carpool, making us all later than we intended to be for work.  At work my patience with the kids was minimal, which isn't great on a day as exciting and jam-packed as Valentine's Day.  Then I had a meeting after work, and by the time I got home, it was too dark to make it very far with Lucy for a walk.

Even as I prepped for my run, smartly and purposefully planned with safety in numbers, that uneasiness was in the back of my mind.  As I chose my running outfit for the evening, all I could think was wear something that screams, I AM NOTICEABLE.  You can't drag me off into the bushes without anyone realizing.

It may not be PC to say this, but if you can't see me in this
neon shirted clashing lovely outfit you've got to be blind.
The headlamp also adds a noticeable element in the dark.

I felt closed in on both sides of my day by the veil of darkness.  Unfairly, frustratingly trapped by long winter nights and short winter days.  Because I am a girl.  A strong, tall, able-bodied girl.  But a girl nonetheless.  And there is a guy out there that thinks he has a right to any vulnerable girl walking the streets.

It makes me angry.  It makes me grumpy.  It makes me frustrated.  It makes me change my routine.  It makes me change my life.  And I don't like changing my life if I don't want to.

But, as I said, I ran.  And running simply makes everything better.  And while I'm riding the endorphin highs of a great run, I'm going to enjoy it.

Because tomorrow morning, I don't know what I'm going to do.  When it comes time to get up and walk Lucy in the dark, by ourselves, will I be strong and naive and continue to live my life, or be smart and safe and change my world because of a fear of something out of my control?

Either way, it makes me uncomfortable.  And I'm going to whine like a first grader and simply say, "It's not fair."

I'm mixing it up

I have an addictive personality.  I think this is derived from my desperate desire for routine.

My entire day has been routinized.  Lucy and I are incredibly in sync because she can pretty much predict my every move.  When my 5:15 alarm goes off, she stays in bed, knowing she won't have to actually get up until my teeth have been brushed, face washed, and I've gotten dressed for our morning walk (in that order).

I posted this on Facebook earlier this morning, but it's so
adorable I had to make another use of it.  She was none
too enthused to get up this morning after I returned from
my bathroom routines. 

After that, we walk for exactly 30 minutes on the exact same route each morning.  I listen to an audiobook as we do this.  When we get home, she gets breakfast (if this isn't done IMMEDIATELY upon walking in the door, she will whine at me pathetically until it happens).  Then I put make up on, get dressed for work, eat breakfast while reading email/facebook/blogs, make coffee and gather lunch items for the day (typically the same lunch items each day), give Lucy a treat, and head out the door.

Every morning progresses in this exact manner.  The only exception being sometimes the alarm goes off at 5:00 instead of 5:15 when I have an early meeting.  Otherwise, just the same.

That's a lie.  Sometimes I'll put my orange in my lunch bag before I put creamer in my coffee.  But that only happens when I'm feeling spicy.

So it should be no surprise to know that I have an addictive personality.  When something sneaks its way into my routinized life, and I enjoy it, I quickly decide that it needs to happen regularly and frequently.  Luckily, up until this point, I've managed to maintain addictions to mostly healthy things (aside from 5 years of smoking through late high school/college--sorry mom and dad, finally admitting that one out loud).

My addictive, routine-based life is one of the biggest reasons why running works for me.  I can run every day if I want to.  I can take the same routes through my neighborhoods.  I can run at the same time, at a speed that works for me.  When I started running, I stuck with it because I made it routine.  And once it becomes routine for me, it isn't going away very easily unless there is a substantial, legitimate reason to make a change (i.e. I quit smoking the day I started student teaching...just couldn't justifiably wrap my brain around the idea of a smoking teacher.  I haven't smoked a single cigarette since that day 8.5 years ago).  

I am addicted to running.  There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it.  (Irrelevant side note: 7 years of teaching first grade boys means I can't say "buts" without snickering.)   I'm running 3 races in March alone, I'm already training for my 5th marathon, less than a month after completing the Goofy Challenge, and I'm on a Ragnar Northwest Passage Relay team for July.  This kind of schedule is not normal.  It is the result of an addiction.  I acknowledge this.  My name is Tessa and I'm a running addict.

In the past 5 years, I've done little else exercise-wise besides running.  I had a month-long phase of hot yoga a couple years ago.  Last summer I was pretty good at integrating biking and swimming (cause that's what my friends were doing).  Other than that, running is pretty much it.

So, this marathon training season, I am setting a new goal.  I am officially trying to mix it up a bit.  This marathon season is going to be about trying new things.  Trying new fueling routines (or at least sticking consistently to the new fueling that worked for Goofy)  Trying to push the speed.  Trying new shoes (eek! scared for this one).  Maybe investing in a new water belt.  Not running with Erica every team run (she left me to become a coach or whatever...now I have to find someone new to do some speedy running with on Saturdays and Tuesdays while she selfishly helps others).  

Also, for legitimate reasons, I would like to regularly break into the mold of cross training.  Running gives me super strong legs and a strong lower back.  But my arms are flimsy.  My abs could use a little help.  And my flexibility, which used to be not half bad, has been reduced to an inability to remotely come close to touching my toes.  

There are a couple of ways I'm working on this:

Yoga.  I recently discovered a completely awesome new-to-me iPhone/iPad app called Yoga Studio, which I learned about from another lady blogger who reviewed it quite nicely.  I've decided that instead of a 40 minute easy recovery run on Sundays, I will from here on out be doing yoga with my yoga studio app.  Two weeks in, I've been successful with this.  I started with the 30 minute combination class, and this is more than enough to challenge my strength and flexibility right now.  It will take many years before I will look anything like I'm supposed to in a Standing Forward Bend.  Nowhere close on that one.  

If you can do this, I applaud you.  I cannot.

And my current favorite is Child's Pose:  

I could easily fall asleep in this position.

My only complaint about yoga right now is the dog that makes it impossible to relax in Corpse Pose--or any other pose for that matter.  It's very difficult to "empty your mind" when you are being licked in the face with enthusiasm.  Lucy and I are going to have a long chat before I begin yoga-ing next Sunday.

Boot Camp.  In reality, I've been doing "boot camp" on Monday afternoons all year.  But before winter break, "boot camp" was me and my teacher running clubbers doing some strengthening that we made up as we went along each afternoon.  Now, Boot Camp is being run by our P.E. teacher.  It is much harder.  In a good way.  I first did Boot Camp this way 2 weeks ago and was sore for almost a week.  My legs hurt so bad that I took a couple days off running, and my slight soreness after the Goofy Challenge paled in comparison to the state my body was left in after these 40 minutes of strengthening.  I've now done Boot Camp 3 times (the 3rd being today) and I'm learning to love to hate it.  It hurts, it's hard, and it sucks.  But it's working muscles that I forgot existed.  There are even muscles in my legs that I didn't know were hiding away in there.  I can already feel myself getting stronger.  I'm happy and proud of myself to for doing something different and challenging.  And I also know that this will help me get stronger in my running too.  So bonus for that.

To most of you, those two slight changes may seem minor.  But they are huge changes in my addicted-to-running life.  And I am going to be all the healthier and stronger in my running because of them.

I have high hopes for marathon number 5.  I have a set time goal in mind (sub 4 hour), which scares the crap out of me.  The actual goal itself doesn't scare me so much as the act of setting such a distinct goal.  In the past, I've had vague goals: "Run faster than last time," "Be stronger when you want to walk."  Vague goals can pretty easily be accomplished (although I've come to find that the satisfaction level may not be as high).  With distinct goals, however, can come distinct failures.

So by working harder, changing the routine, creating a few new positive addictions, I'm hoping to make that goal seem a little less scary.  Right now is the time to build up confidence in my body and it's ability to do what I want to ask of it.  I don't think setting these new routines and mixing things up will be too difficult.  I've already gotten a good start.

The bigger challenge will be training my mind to be ok with running fast when I'm too tired to want to go on.  But we'll cross that bridge when we begin to see it.

For now, my personal brownie point count is pretty high.  I pat myself on the back for that.

Are you sure there's no "I" in team?

I was never a "team sport" kind of person in the traditional sense of the term.  In my early days of elementary school all the way up through high school, P.E. units that involved anything resembling kickball, dodgeball--or any sport organized around a large ball for that matter--terrified me.

I knew I was going to be that girl.  The girl that let the soccer ball roll right between her legs.  The girl that whiffed it in the kickball game.  The girl that struck out every time.  The girl that got pelted in the face with that god forsaken dodgeball.  Out first every time.  I just knew I would be that girl.

Don't even get me started on the multitudes of reasons why flag football or (gasp) ultimate frisbee would have me quaking in my large-sized sneakers.

Ultimately, I've realized that all of this fear probably had a lot more to do with my extreme shyness than any real lack of physical skill.  I was an athletic child.  But I stuck to those sports that, yes included a team, but the team played a much smaller role.  "Teamwork" wasn't a big player in all the sports I chose.  Swimming, gymnastics, diving, horseback riding, and even a short but fun stint of left-handed tennis at an early age.  If I failed at these sports, it wasn't immediately evident to every single person in the near vicinity.

So when I finally discovered the joys of running in my post-collegiate years, it fit right in to my idea of a sport that could have a team but didn't necessarily need one.  I didn't have to have a team with me to go out and run a mile through the neighborhood.  I just needed myself and my running shoes.

And for a few years, that was enough.  Me, my Lucy dog, and my running shoes were all I needed for a happy, healthy running life.  But as time passed and I slowly honed my skills and confidence in social interaction, I found myself noticing other runners.  Other runners who ran with other runners.  Thoughts of having "others" to run with began to creep in.

Then I ran my first half marathon.  All by myself.  And as I ran that first race, I noticed a team of purple shirted runners who seemed so happy running together, cheering for each other.  As I crossed that first finish line, blown away by the fact that I just ran a half marathon, I was thinking wouldn't it be great to have running friends?

So the next year I joined up with those purple shirts whom we've come to know as Team in Training.  And while Team in Training's ultimate purpose is to raise money to cure blood cancers, I'm going to set that motivational factor to the side right now.  Because what I'd like to focus on is the Team.  And why running with a team...why being on a team...is just plain awesome:

They are expecting you.  When there is a team practice and you don't show up, they notice.  And they ask why.  There are two benefits to this.  First, it feels good to have your absence noted.  It makes you feel important and wanted.  Second, it gets you out there even when you might not want to.  Long day at work?  Not feeling motivated for that run?  You should find a better excuse than that, because the next time you see those teammates, they're going to be looking for a better excuse than that.

Running in a group is uplifting.  While I am an advocate for periodic solo running to work out internal angst and anxiety, running with a group is uplifting in an entirely different way.  As you get out there running, you see your teammates out there too.  You cheer them on.  They cheer you on.  You exchange smiles.  You forget whatever internal angst and anxiety was weighing you down.  Running with all those people nearby (whether you're running with them, past them, or they are passing you) makes you feel lighter, body and soul.

Team practices force social interaction.  If you are at all like me and really enjoy your "me" time, this is a good pull to get you out of the house, talking to people, interacting with others.  Talk isn't cheap.  Talk is self-affirming, joyful, interesting, and eye-opening.  I used to be afraid to meet new people.  Now I can't wait for new seasons to start, because I know I will get to meet new, amazing people.

All those people are really motivating.  I selfishly draw motivation for my running by watching others push themselves and grow in their running.  I watch others struggle and then succeed.  I watch others accomplish things I never thought imaginable.  Then I absorb all of it and run with it.  It becomes a part of me, helping me believe in myself.

They accept you without the makeup and nice clothes.  Many of the people I run with rarely see me in normal clothes with my makeup on.  The first time I met most of them, it was just me.  No makeup, hair in a pony tail or hat, wearing unappealing running clothes.  They see me in a state that I would feel extremely uncomfortable in were circumstances any different.  They see me with no external frills.  And they still seem to want to talk to me, be my friend, even hang out with me in real life situations.

I get to motivate other people.  They see me run and struggle and succeed and grow.  And just as I absorb motivation from them, they can absorb it from me too.  I like helping people (which is a main reason why I chose my current profession).  If I can help people just by being there and running, doing what I love most, then it is an added bonus for me.

The bond between teammates is unique.  What we experience together as teammates is different from anything else.  It bonds us together and creates a connection between humans simply because we exist in this space, at this time, doing this thing, together.  It is a bond that doesn't seem to be easily broken.

I realize that all of these reasons, this list of why being on a team is awesome, are very selfish.  Often when I think about why I am on a team, it is the "I" that I am thinking of.  So I think that age-old saying "There is no I in TEAM" is a little off.  I joined a team because I value myself, care about myself, and want to improve my life.  In that same act, I also want to help improve the lives of others.  It is because I care about myself that I also, in turn, can deeply and truly care about others.

So yes, there is an "I" in team.  I am an I.  He is an I.  She is an I.  We are all I's.  Then, once or twice a week we come together, mesh all our lonely I's together, and create a cohesive, caring, supportive team.  A team I can't quite imagine life without.