I want to beat all the numbers

I've been running fast lately.  And mentally, it feels great.  Ticking away weekday miles at paces averaging 8:30s and under is very emotionally satisfying for me.  Especially because last year around this time, my weekday averages were closer to 9:15s.  That's a pretty big leap without making a concerted effort to actually get faster.

I like to beat the numbers.  All the numbers.  It doesn't matter what the numbers are counting in what context of life.  It doesn't matter if the numbers are important.  I have to beat them.  Usually it's an internal thing (for ex, thinking things like "yesterday I ran an 8:35, so today I will only be happy with an 8:30"), but I can get externally competitive as well.  If we are having a conversation about numbers, my numbers have to beat your numbers.  You wake up at 6:00?  I wake up at 5:15.  I beat you.  You have 20 kids in your class?  I have 22.  I win.  Oh, you say you actually have 23 little ones in your classroom?  I only have 22.  I still win.

It is no surprise that beating the numbers plays a huge role in my running addiction.  I like watching the miles pile up through the weeks and months.  I like watching my average paces getting smaller and smaller.  I could spend hours staring at my training logs, figuring out all the ways that I beat the numbers.

A small snippet of my OCDish training log, formatting courtesy of Sarah OUaL.
So many numbers.  Such satisfaction.

Running has turned out to be a wonderfully healthy outlet for my "beat all the numbers" obsession.  But as with all obsessions, sometimes one can get a little carried away.

As much as I love beating numbers, I also really love running.  Just running.  Simply running.  And I haven't been doing a lot of that lately.  I feel like I've been walking (or should I say, running?) the thin line between letting the numbers take over and remembering that there are so many other reasons why I love running.

Let's take my latest long runs for instance.  I love long runs.  They are by far my favorite type of run.  Long runs are relaxed and should feel easy.  I've gotten to know many of my TNTers through hours of conversation on long Saturday runs.  Long runs are the only times I really feel the runner's high.  I have to go longer than 6 or 7 miles to really feel that "this is amazing, I feel great, I can't believe I'm running this far, it feels so easy" feeling.  Some of my greatest running memories are from my longest runs (longest run for Goofy and longest run for San Diego last year).  Finishing a run with mileage in the double digits is amazingly satisfying.

Lately, I've settled myself into a group of runners at Saturday TNT practices that are about my pace, but definitely push me too.  This is great.  I like being challenged and pushed to run just a little faster than I'm comfortable with.  It's good for me.  It helps me feel more comfortable with trying to hit a sub-4 hour marathon.  But there's something about pushing the paces that just isn't quite as physically enjoyable.

I haven't been loving my long runs lately.  At first I thought it was because I wasn't eating properly or hydrating well.  I thought I was pushing it too hard during the week or maybe not getting enough sleep.  But I think I've come to realize that it's actually just the numbers.  I want to go fast.  I want to see long run paces near the 8:30s, but this is ridiculous for me.  I'm looking to run my marathon at an average total pace of 9:00 to hit the 4 hour mark.  A long run should be run at a slower pace (according to my coaches, a whole minute slower) than your goal pace.  I'm running mine faster.  There is absolutely no reason for me to be running middle miles that look like this:

These are paces I would expect from a weekday run,
not in the middle of a long run.

I used to be the queen of negative splits on long runs.  I'd finish feeling great, like I could keep going for a few more miles.  Instead, I've been feeling myself slowly dying as I get closer to the finish.  And it makes me enjoy my long runs a little less.  It makes me feel not-so-good as I slow to 9:00 paces in the last couple miles.  It lowers my running confidence, even though I'm running faster than I ever have.  I should be picking up the pace in those final miles, not slowing down.  It makes me forget how much I really love running.

I've been struggling with the balance of wanting to run fast and enjoying my run.  Also, without my trusty running buddy Erica at my side in this training season, I face the possibility of running 2+ hours on my own if I don't keep pace with my little group.  And that prospect is even less enjoyable than completely losing steam at the end.

I want to truly enjoy my Saturday long runs again.  Like I enjoyed the "almost" 5K I completed at a super easy-for-me 9:20 pace yesterday.

I felt great, despite not really feeling so great before the run.
My hair isn't really red like that.  I am not a ginger.

As I enter the Marathon Reality Zone and start thinking about plans for the marathon, I know that I need to get back in the habit of starting slow and hitting negative splits.  I'd be happy with just keeping an 8:45 average pace for the first 3/4s of a long run.  I need to remember that come marathon day, I might be out there all alone for the majority of the miles, so it's time to start thinking about what I really need to do to be able to pull it off on June 22.

This past weekend, I held stronger to my "slower" long run pace of 8:45 (while unfortunately feeling like I was holding everyone else back in the process as they stuck with me).  I felt so much better on the run than I have the past few weeks.  My legs felt like they were dying at the end, but only in a normal I-just-ran-15-miles kind of dying.  Not the you-just-ran-too-fast-we-don't-work-anymore dying.  Still, there were no negative splits.  Not quite good enough.

As much as I want to beat the numbers, Saturday long runs are not the time to do it.  I want to love my Saturdays again.

I think it's time to let the numbers win, just for a little while.

The Marathon Reality Zone

Is anybody else wondering what happened to April??  I mean, tomorrow is April TWENTY FIFTH.  Seriously.  We've apparently made it through 24 days of April already.  I'd like some of those back please.  I don't know what I was doing, but it sure feels like I didn't get 24 days in April so far.  Wasn't it just April 1st last week?  Lucy even has her confused face on:

"I'm confused."

I feel like someone is playing a cruel trick on me and has gone through all the calendars in my life, flipping forward the metaphorical pages.  I swear it was just a couple weeks ago that I was celebrating Chuck Norris's International Day of Awesomeness (AKA Daylight Savings).  And now, the sun is staying up until almost 9:00.  I'm pretty sure I've beat it to bed a few times already.

I feel like I've been cheated somehow.  Because the end of April means it's almost May.  And May means it's almost June.  And June means two important things:

1)  The End of the School Year.  Holy crap, so much more to do.  So much more to teach.  So much love left to give this class of little ones.  So not ready to say goodbye yet.
2)  Marathon Time.  Marathon #5.  A reunion with my very first marathon 3 short years ago, the Rock N Roll Seattle Marathon.  And a lofty goal time: sub 4 hours.

I'm not ready to start freaking out about the encroaching end of the school year yet, so let's focus on the other looming event.  I am slowly but surely entering what I have deemed the "Marathon Reality Zone." Because, let's face it, there is a "Marathon Denying-the-Truth Zone" and it starts the moment you sign on the dotted line and say "I'm going to train for a marathon."

Characteristics of the Marathon Denying-the-Truth Zone include:
1) Telling people you are training for a marathon, following a step-by-step training plan (or not), but not quite admitting to yourself what the end goal of it all is.
2) Going out for daily runs with one thought in mind: get through this run.  And then get through the next run.  And the next one.  Pat yourself on the back for each successful run.  Shake your head in disappointment for each "missed" run, or not-so-good run.  In this zone, the focus is on the small picture.  The big picture is still being ignored.
3) Buying new running gear, on-the-run food, sports drinks, etc.  Enjoying trying out new things, because you are just "training."  And that's what training is for.  Nevermind what all this training is actually for (you know...a marathon).
4) Adding an aside in your head as you tell people about your marathon: "Yep, I'm going to run a marathon [aside: IN JUNE]."  That aside, "in June" becomes a mythical, unreachable point in time in your mind.  A time that you somehow convince yourself to believe will never actually get here if you just keep training.

The Marathon Denying-the-Truth Zone is generally characterized by an ability to not really acknowledge the daunting task you've undertaken.  It exists in a time far removed from the marathon itself, and you may find that it will suddenly and abruptly end for a variety of reasons.

For me, the Marathon Denying-the-Truth Zone lasts varying amounts of time.  It was probably shortest for my 2nd marathon.  For my first marathon, I didn't know what I was getting in to, so didn't really know what "Marathon Reality" was.  But for my second marathon, I hit the Marathon Reality Zone early.  Because I knew.  I knew EXACTLY what I was getting myself into.  By the third marathon, I managed to stay in the Marathon Denying-the-Truth Zone a little longer for the same reason--I knew what I was getting in to, and decided not to acknowledge it.  And for Goofy, I managed to deny the truth almost up until the point I was unloading from the plane in Orlando.  Typically though, I'd say that I start to enter the Marathon Reality Zone as my Saturday runs begin to routinely reach lengths of more than a half marathon.

The Marathon Reality Zone has it's own unique characteristics:
1)  Quietly freaking out.  Thoughts of "Seriously? Seriously?? You signed up for another one of these???" or "Am I really going to do this again?" and "What was I thinking?" are prevalent.
2)  Panicking if you miss a single run.  Because suddenly it feels like every run counts and you will crash and burn at mile 15 if you miss THIS run (for marathon newbies: this is wildly unrealistic--a single missed run will do absolutely nothing to hinder your training).
3)  Overreacting to every little ache and pain.  Because no one wants to get injured weeks out from a marathon.  The sense of devastation is acute.  And then you realize that you just ran 14 miles.  Of course you are going to feel a few aches and pains.  Calm down.
4)  Having internal conversations with yourself that for most people would be embarrassing to share with the rest of the world:
     "You can't run 26.2 miles that fast."
     "Yes I can, I will do it."
     "It's going to hurt."
     "Of course it is, I would never think it wouldn't."
     "Are you sure you want to do this?"
     "Yes."
     "Well, not really."
     "I'm mean, of course!"
     "Actually, I don't know if I can."
     "Umm, you can and you will.  Stop talking to yourself."

The Marathon Reality Zone is generally characterized by a final acceptance of the truth (26.2 miles) and an unavoidable relative level of mental instability.  I'd like to say that I generally do a good job of keeping the insanity on the inside while in the Marathon Reality Zone, but I'd have to ask my friends to really be sure.  They're the ones that have to deal with me.

I feel as though, after realizing that April has been stolen from me, that I'm slowly but surely entering the Marathon Reality Zone for this training season.  It seems a bit earlier than usual seeing as the marathon is still 2 months out, and I think my lofty time goal is the culprit.  My current marathon PR (from San Diego last year) is 4:18.  And that day, I was somewhat disappointed because I had felt like I could have done better.  Even though I knocked 10 minutes off my previous PR.

While I continue to call this goal "lofty," I also acknowledge that it is completely attainable for me.  And that is why I'm entering the Marathon Reality Zone so soon.  Because it's beginning to scare me.  I know I can do it and should do it, but what if I don't?  How badly will I mentally beat myself up if I don't do it?

Too many questions.  Another key characterization of the Marathon Reality Zone.

It's apparently here, and I'm in it.  I'm looking at another 15 mile run this weekend, and I think it's time to start gearing up for the mental training.  Time to go gung ho with the positivity.  Time to accept the reality and work with it.

Time to remember that I'm a marathoner.  I can do anything.

_______________________________

An update on my separation from the internet, for those who may have an iota of interest:

For the past 2 days, I did not check Facebook between the hours of 7 AM and 5 PM.  The world did not end.  In fact, it all feels a little bit lighter.

There may in fact be some sort of correlation between not checking Facebook and entering the Marathon Reality Zone...I refuse to acknowledge it if there is.

I think we need some space

I'm tired of the internet.

I know that sounds completely hypocritical coming from someone who blogs on a fairly regular basis (and is in fact using the internet to do just that right now), but it's simply true.  In the past, I was never someone who understood people that needed to "take a break" from the internet.  I didn't get it.  What was there to take a break from?  Why on earth would you cut yourself off from the world like that?

I'm also not someone who believes that smartphones have made us dumber.  I think they've just made life easier and provided us with yet another thing to distract us from what is happening in the here and now.  Interpret that as you will.

But lately I've been finding myself bogged down by the internet.  I'm constantly checking Facebook in any spare moment I have.  I obsessively check my email throughout the day, even though the vast majority of what I get I immediately delete or don't bother to really read.  When I'm bored with those I'll check my Blogger stats (how many pageviews today??) or switch over to Twitter and read the random comments of people I don't and probably never will know.  Or I peruse the multitudes of other running blogs I follow, half-heartedly reading posts that I'm only mildly interested in.  Thank god I've lost interest in Pinterest.  That sucked away a few weeks of my life a while back.

I find something innately wrong in the fact that before picking up my book to read and go to bed at night, the last thing I feel the need to do is check Facebook "just one more time."  From my phone.  While laying in bed.  And then the first thing I do after I hit stop on my alarm in the morning?  Roll over, pick up the phone, and check my email.  Because it is so important to check my email at 5:00 AM when the rest of the west coast is still happily drooling on their pillows.

I suddenly find it all ridiculously over the top.  I am ridiculous.

And it needs to stop.  There are so many other things I could be doing that make me much happier than counting how many likes I got on the last picture I posted.

Like reading.  I am pretty sure I've been reading Storm of Swords since the beginning of the school year, and I'm still only three quarters of the way through.  Granted, it's a very thick book written with very small font, but I still find this inexcusable.  If it weren't for the excessive number of audiobooks I plow through on morning walks with Lucy and solo commutes, I'd feel like I had completely and utterly starved the poor bookworm that lives in my heart.

A book, a hot cup of coffee or tea, and some couch time are at the top of
the list of things that make me happy.

Or writing.  I swear, one of these days I will embark upon a project of writing something besides this little blog.

Or cooking.  My cooking creativity has all but disappeared in the past year or so.

Or having heartfelt conversations with Lucy (I know you're not surprised by that).

She's a good listener.

Or reaching out and talking to friends I haven't touched base with in way too long.

Or sleeping.  How many times have I told myself I'd start getting ready for bed at 9:15 and then look down at the little computer clock to find that it suddenly reads 10:00.

Or for that matter, I could be thinking.  Do we do enough of that anymore?

I'm pretty sure the only thing I haven't sacrificed to the internet is my running.  That gets top priority regardless of how many re-posted inspirational quotes are appearing on my Facebook feed.

I rarely reject my baby blues.

I'm starting to sound cynical though.  I didn't mean to do that.  Let me step off my soap box here.

I think the biggest problem that I have with my current addiction to the internet is that there is no end to the internet.  There's always a new Facebook post, or rising pageview numbers to check, or more blog posts to read, or more email in the inbox (my phone just buzzed with a new email, ha).  It doesn't really stop.  And that's a problem for me.

I don't know if you've noticed this from reading the blog, but I like endings.  I like to wrap everything up in a nice little package, tie it with a bow, and stamp a big, fat THE END on it.  I'm a person who needs closure. If I'm left hanging, my mind literally will not shut off.  Reading books by authors like Dan Brown or from series like the Hunger Games or Divergent, where every single chapter ends in a cliffhanger, absolutely kills me.  Because I cannot stop reading.  I lose a lot of sleep when I'm reading things like that.  And when I do sleep, I'm dreaming about what's going to happen next.  Eventually though, those books end.  The internet does not.

But, besides books, nothing in life has neat little endings.  I think that's partly why I find writing this thing so cathartic.  I get to artificially attach endings to the episodes of my life, pretending everything got wrapped up neat and pretty and now I'm ready to start the next book.  And get to the next ending.  But that's silly, and as I said, artificial.  I need to get over that.

I can't say that I'm anywhere near ready to completely call it quits with Facebook (nor do I really want to) or any of the other multitudes of social networks I check regularly.  But I think it's time to put some limits on our relationship.  I'm sorry Internet, but I need some space.

I think this might be harder than quitting the snooze button.  Wish me luck.

(not really) THE END.

I believe in the good

"If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon."

                    ~Katherine Switzer (first woman to run the Boston Marathon)

Call me naive, but I believe in the goodness of humanity.  I believe we are born with kindness and empathy.  I see it in my first graders every day.  Even in those that have seen worse than I have in their short years of life.  I see in their eyes that all they really want is to love and be loved.  And I believe that the vast majority of us keep that goodness until the end.

If there is hate in us, it has been learned.  It has been taught.  We are not born with hatred in our blood.  It is put there.  It is absorbed.  And a very small few of us out there can't seem to push away or move beyond that hate.  A very very few of us.  But they are the ones that make the headlines.  They seem to be louder than the rest of us.  In a year that seems to be plagued with tragedy after tragedy, it could certainly seem like there is more hate than love.

But in the ever-intelligent words of Mr. Rogers:

"When I was a boy and would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.'"

Today, as I heard of the events unfolding in Boston, it wasn't hate I saw.  I saw goodness.  In the people who tried to help.  In the runners who ran from the finish line straight to the nearest hospital to donate blood. In the hopes and prayers and kind thoughts that flooded and continue to flood Facebook and Twitter.  In the outpourings of donations that crashed the Red Cross's website.  In the strength of runners.

Whoever did this for whatever reason will soon learn that runners are among the most resilient out there.  We will not walk away from this with our tails between our legs.  We will come back stronger.  I'd be surprised if today doesn't result in a record day for marathon registrations.  The Boston Marathon is every runner's dream.  And I'm fairly certain that will not change after today.  It certainly won't for me.

We will keep running.  Have no doubt in that.

I'm sending all my good thoughts to those affected by today's events.  I hope you don't lose faith in the goodness of human nature.  There's so much good out there in the world, don't let the little bit of hate outshine that.

My next run is for you.

Pleasure in the pain

Being a runner requires, as I'm sure do other sports and athletic endeavors, a certain amount of masochism.  Some of the best runs I have are ones that hurt so good.  Ones that challenge my level of pain tolerance and test my mental abilities to keep pushing through.

However, I can't say that I'm a person who has anything remotely close to a high level of pain tolerance.  Paper cuts, which are unfortunately a commonly faced hazard of my job, will debilitate my affected finger for days.  And I absolutely can't stand it when I bite my own cheek.  I will carefully chew one-sided for over a week until my poor swollen cheek swells down to normal size again (if I don't keep accidentally biting it repeatedly and crying out in agony).  I even managed to black-out from the pain of a sprained ankle a few years ago (I'm am being sincerely honest when I say the memory loss had nothing to do with the Seahawks game tailgating that occurred prior to the incident).

Let's just call it what it is.

I'm a wimp.

But when it comes to running, the story completely changes.  I have taught myself to endure and take pride in any sort of typical pain associated with running.  As I grimace and grunt through hill reps or speed work or the tail end of a long run, I am smiling on the inside, knowing that this pain is earned.  I worked for it.  It means that I'm out there working hard for no other reason than because I choose to.  This pain means I am strong.  And being stronger (mentally, physically, and emotionally) is something I am continually striving higher for.

Post-marathon pain is the best.  I giggle with co-workers as they laugh at me for waddling down the hallways.  I wince happily as I try to go up or down stairs, swinging myself between railings instead of taking that horrifically painful downward step.  I joyfully imagine how ridiculous I must look as I attempt to sit in a chair, grabbing at any nearby table or the seat of the chair itself in an attempt to lower myself down without using any of the brutally sore leg muscles.  Each painful step is a reminder of what I recently accomplished.

Today, I am in pain from my neck to my knees.  Let me proudly tell you why.

It started on Monday with my first boot camp work out in over a month.  Remember back when I said I was going to be good and do boot camp and yoga every week during this training season?  Yeah, my busy schedule unhappily got in the way.  So I was kind of dreading re-entering the boot camp arena.

I'm not sure I've told you exactly what boot camp entails.  It is led for free by the P.E. teacher at my elementary school for any staff members who wish to inflict serious pain on themselves for 40 minutes after the work day.  Awful tools of torture like hand weights, jump ropes, and *gasp* sliders are used throughout.  There are rotations of 2 exercises with 30 seconds on, 10 seconds off for 4 repeats.  Then a minute of rest and water followed by a new rotation of 2 exercises.  This continues for the full 40 minutes.  This may not seem too overwhelming, but by the time I get to the third or fourth 30 second rotation of an exercise, my muscles are screaming that they won't do any more.

Like I said, I'm a wimp.

BUT, because I'm doing this to benefit my running, I am happy and willing to try my best to push through this pain.  I had gotten pretty strong up until I dropped off the map for 4 weeks.  So my return to Monday boot camp hurt.  I collapsed while doing push ups and my abs all but completely gave out by the end.  I did, however, lunge like a rockstar.  I've got the leg exercises down.  Even if they do still leave me sore.

On Tuesday, it hurt to get out of bed.  The first "sit" of the day (guess where that was) was excruciating.  It hurt to turn my head, and coughing left me cringing in pain.  But this pain was earned, so I smiled through it all (they were mostly smiles on the inside so my co-workers and first graders didn't think I was a crazy person).

Then, Tuesday night was Team practice.  Instead of the anticipated hill rep workout, we did a tempo run.  Which I was excited about.  A tempo run consists of a 10 minute warm up, 20 minutes of running at 1 minute below your marathon goal pace (which for me means running at a 7:45 pace), and then 10 minutes of cool down.

I much prefer speed work to hills.  With hills, you can actually see the mountain you have to climb.  For speed, the mountain is completely metaphorical and dependent upon your effort level.  So for speed work, I grimace, grind my feet in, and RUN.

Metaphorical speed mountain, you don't scare me.

And, to top it off, I often find that when I am already sore and hurting, I typically perform a little better.  Because I'm already hurting.  So pushing harder doesn't really make it hurt any more.  It just feels the same.  So why not give it your all?  Which I did.  My middle tempo miles were 7:48 and 7:38, respectively.  That's what I call a negative split.  And according to my Nike+ logs, I recorded my fastest mile and fastest 5K to date (which means I beat what I ran at the St. Patty's Day Dash, NBD).  Even with the warm up and cool down, I still averaged an 8:17 overall for the run.

I killed it.

*Side Note: Speed for me is completely relative.  My speeds may seem slow to some and fast to others.  This is just an expression of how I feel about my current pace and anyone who is out there pounding the pavement is doing much more and much better than the vast majority of the population.  I truly admire you all.

So can you guess how I'm feeling today?  There is a LOT of pain.  I sat as little as possible today.  I dreaded the awful toilet trips where sitting is necessary (for us ladies, at least) for a ridiculously short amount of time where there are no nearby tables or items to grip to relieve leg pain (unless you want to touch the germ-infested walls or *double gasp* toilet seat).  And those 3 awful steps that lead down from my apartment stoop have been accomplished with a swinging leap from the railings.  But I'm enjoying the pain.  Because I earned it.

And I still ran today.  After Erica bailed on our usual Wednesday run, I decided to take Lucy out for an "easy" loop of Green Lake.  I knew that if I ran Lucy-pace, she'd force me to go slow and easy and keep me from really hurting myself (injury pain = not OK).  After I hobbled down Phinney Ridge, she trucked along with me at a 9:00 average, which for her is actually quite fast, but for me has somehow become an easy, slow pace (a year ago, I was ecstatic to run a 9:00 min pace, so it's crazy to me that this has now become my "easy" pace).

Post run Lucy might be the cutest thing ever.  She wouldn't lift her head,
despite much encouragement.  The tail is wagging though.

So I must conclude from my limited years of endurance running experience, that we athletes take some sort of sadistic pleasure in the pain we inflict upon ourselves.  And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way, because otherwise they wouldn't make commercials like this:

Watch it. Funny stuff.

So if you're out there running or pushing yourself in some other fantastically challenging way, cheers to you.  Enjoy the pain.  You earned it.

I'm certainly going to happily grimace through whatever pain I'll be facing tomorrow.

It's ok to lose control

I've had this magnet on my fridge for years:

Eleanor Roosevelt was such a wise woman.

When I bought it, my intention was to have it there to remind me of the type of life I wanted to live.  There was a lot that scared me back in those days, and I wanted to be brave enough to conquer my insecurities.  One day at a time.  

I wasn't very successful at first.  Putting yourself out there in the open for everyone to see and judge and ignore as they please is daunting.  But little by little I chipped away at each insecurity and each fear.  I did things like getting a dog, entering working world, starting to run, moving to Seattle, and exposing myself to the world via blog.  I'd like to say that, while I may not do one thing every day that scares me, I've come pretty close to it.  Taking risks fascinates me now, because usually the consequences aren't nearly as bad as what you dream up in your head.

However, there is one big fear of mine that I am still working on.  If I could go back and list all those little fears I've faced, all the cliffs I've jumped and blind turns I've taken, they would all pale in comparison to this one.

My biggest fear has always been a lack of control.  I like to be in control.  And when I'm not, I get scared, frustrated, sad, and angry.  This is why I get so upset when people do things that take away some of my control on life (things like shooting elementary school students or attacking women like me in my neighborhood).  

A lot of the choices I've made in life have been based on control.  I wanted to be an educated person so I could control the path I take in my career.  I join tons of committees at work and take on many leadership roles in all aspects of my life, not because I want to be in charge, but because I want to have as much say as possible in the choices people are making that affect my life.  I want to have some control over those decisions.  My daily routines, fairly fixed schedule, and desire to constantly plan ahead are all a result of a desire to be in control.

So when I look at that magnet every time I open my fridge, I am faced with the necessity to conquer this fear.  To let go a little.  And there are certainly some things that I've come to realize I have no control over.  For instance:

1)  The weather.  This is obvious, but I used to get annoyed when things didn't work out in my favor.  Now I suck it up and deal with it.  Cold and rainy or sunshiny and beautiful, I'm still going to be out there in it for a couple hours a day (for running and Lucy walks at least).

If I could control the weather, there'd be sunshine for everyone!  And some
rainy gloomy days here and there too, just so we wouldn't forget to truly
appreciate the sun.

2)   My hair.  There is no controlling this mass of curls:

No matter how much hair product is applied, these curls
have a mind of their own.

3)  Illness.  I learned this lesson hard just before STP last year.  And after being sick from about November through March this year, which made running pretty frustrating.  Getting sick sucks.  And these illnesses are just cold and flu bugs.  Let's not even get into the serious stuff.  I raise money for LLS in an effort to control that at least a little.

4)  What people think of me.  This is big.  Huge.  It's really the most important one.  I'm a pleaser.  I want everyone to like me.  I get upset when people don't.  But what I've come to learn is that there will always at some point in time be someone out there who isn't perfectly happy with me.  I can't control that.  There are too many people in this little world to please them all.  All I can do is just be me and hope for the best.  If you're not happy with that, I'm going to go ahead and find some other friends.

Among other things, those are the biggies I've learned to let go of.  So, you may be thinking, how did all this happen?  How did I learn to let go, relax control, and accept these things for what they are?

Running.

Of course.

Running is the best metaphor I can find for learning to overcome my fear of losing control.  And every day when I step foot out my door strapped into my running shoes, I forgo just a little bit of control.

Yes, there are certainly things about my running that I can control.  I can stay properly hydrated.  I can eat the right foods.  I can fuel appropriately on long runs.  I can train with integrity.  I can keep my stride length short, control my breathing, and relax.  I can wear the right shoes, buy the right clothes, and run right paces.

But sometimes, even when you do all those things right, running can slap you in the face and say, "Ha! Got you!  I'm in control today!"  Whether it's a crappy run when you thought it would be a good one, or a great run when you expected it to be the worst, running can be extremely unpredictable and out of your own control.

While I still play the game of trying to "figure it out" when runs go unexpectedly, it really doesn't matter. Sometimes it just doesn't go as planned.  I just have to let go and deal with that.

And over the years, as running has dug its roots deeper and deeper into my life, I've learned how to deal with its unpredictability.  Its uncontrollability (that's not a word, I made it up).  Again, as ever, it all comes down to training my brain.  Because it's my brain that controls it all eventually.

I've had to train my brain to push those Negative Nelly thoughts away and bring the Positive Polly thoughts to the forefront.  If a run just sucks, I remind myself that I can get through it.  It's not the end of the world.  Other people have pushed through much worse than this.  I've pushed though much worse than this.  It's not that bad.  Suck it up.  And if a run feels great, I've trained myself to take those amazing feelings, bottle them up, and save them for the tough times.  I hoard those on-top-of-the-world feelings for when I need them most.  For the days when all I want to do is sink to the bottom.

So now, here's the challenge.  How do I take these amazing let-it-go, lose-control brain trainings that are so effective during the 30-60 minutes I typically run in a day, and transfer them to the other 23 hours of my daily existence?  How do I get better at pushing the Negative Nelly life thoughts away and keeping those Positive Pollys in the forefront?  Because honestly, my life is pretty great.  And on those few days when I'm feeling down or frustrated and simply like I don't want to push through, I need to have a reserve of bottled up amazing thoughts to get me through.

And for me, I think it all starts with letting go.  Realizing that controlling everything isn't going to fix everything.  I need to get better at letting things happen, instead of always trying to make them happen.  I need to release my grip and relax.  Some days aren't going to be so great, but it's ok, because more days will come and it's highly likely that they'll be better.

So, Ms. Eleanor Roosevelt, I'm trying my best to heed your advice as it applies to me now.  Every day, I'm going to try to do one thing that scares me.  Every day, I'm going to let go and try to just take life as it comes.  And accept the fact that it will all still work out in the end, and eventually I'll get where I need to go.

I fail at doing nothing

I'm not very good at doing nothing.  I'm on Spring Break right now, and a week ago, whenever anyone asked me what my plans were for Spring Break, I emphatically and happily replied, "Nothing!"  March was a busy month packed full of activities and plans, so I was very excited to have a whole week to myself of just doing nothing.

But it's Wednesday now, and I have yet to have a day of "nothing."  I started Spring Break with an 11.5 mile long run on Saturday morning.  Then I walked through Discovery Park with Lucy and some other human and canine friends.

A beautiful day, for humans and canines alike.

I then spent the evening celebrating the start of Spring Break with just the human friends.  Sunday, I woke up intending to sprawl on the couch for a few hours, but the day was just too beautiful.  I walked Lucy.  I went for a recovery run.  I had some quality FaceTime time with my sister.  I found every excuse possible to be outside in the gorgeous weather.

Monday, I woke up with an hour long yoga session.  Then an hour long Lucy walk.  Then I took a solo trip to the zoo and wandered around for over 2 hours.  And I followed it all up with some happy hour time with Erica.

Got my first view of sleepy mama with 4 sleepy lion cubs!

And then yesterday was the busiest day yet including two doctors appointments, another longish Lucy walk, helping a friend move, cleaning my car, replacing my chipped and cracked front door mat (more work than it sounds), and then a very hilly and difficult run with Team, rounded out with drinks/watching the Sounders lose again with some Teammates.

Today I woke up intending to do nothing.  Really.  But instead, I walked Lucy, went for a sore-legged run, went grocery shopping, did laundry, sorted through the massive stack of mail that has been piling up since before Christmas, and finally put up some wall hanging things that have been on the to-do list since I got them for Christmas.

I put a bird on it.

My list of to-do's for the rest of the week is still pretty long.  I have several hours of prep work/grading to do for the first graders.  I need to vacuum my car now that I have some quarters.  I want to do some deeper spring cleaning on the apartment.  And I need to go dress shopping for my little brother's mid-May wedding.

In fact, that list looks really daunting with only 2 days left in the week and a plans-filled weekend ahead of me.  It seems like my Spring Break priority of "doing nothing" fell to the bottom of the to-do list.

I wasn't always like this.  I used to be really good a doing nothing.  In fact, I used to be able to do nothing all day long.  Sometimes for multiple days in a row.  I used to be a pro at doing nothing.  But not anymore.  I think my constant go-go-go schedule has rendered me incapable of doing nothing.

But I'm a wholehearted believer in the fact that doing nothing can sometimes be just what is required and necessary.  I believe that we busy-bodies, who continually move from one task to another, one activity to the next, and one crossed-off item on the endless to-do list to the next item, I believe we miss out on something.

There's a peaceful calm associated with doing nothing.  A calming of the body and the mind.  There's an internal serenity that can only be reached by simply being still sometimes.  And I'm not talking about meditatively still.  Just allowing yourself for a few hours to feel the peacefulness of forgetting the burdensome to-do list.  For me, doing nothing means sitting with a cup of coffee or tea and becoming absorbed in a good book for a few hours.  Or curling up on the couch with Lucy and watching a sappy movie or marathon of TV shows.  Doing nothing is forgetting everything.  Becoming immersed in somebody else's fictional life for a little while.  Forgetting Facebook and email and communication of any kind in our overly communicative world.  Doing nothing is not thinking.

And I think I need at least a day of doing nothing, since I obviously can't manage to give myself the week of nothing I'd intended.  So tomorrow, which is supposed to be not-so-nice weather here in Seattle, I have 2 concrete things on my schedule: a run and a lunchtime walk with Lucy and Cristin.  The rest of the day, I am going to try my best to make it a priority to do nothing.  To read until I inevitably take an unintentional nap.  To watch some endless mindless hours of movies.  To bond with my couch.

I'm moving myself to the top of the to-do list.  Everything else can wait for just a little while.  Wish me luck that I can actually manage it.