Recovery report and some summer goals

If there's one thing I've noticed about marathon recovery, it's that the amount of recovery time needed drastically decreases as the number of marathons you've run increases.  With each marathon I've completed, I've made my return to the running world much sooner than the last.  And I've found that the more you keep moving post-marathon, the more quickly recovery occurs.

After Saturday's race, I tried not to sit stationary for too long.  I sat for a bit after the race and took a mini nap (30 mins) while defrosting from my ice bath.  But other than that, I was moving around the rest of the day/evening.  On Sunday, I woke up and took Lucy for an extended walk and then wandered down to the Fremont Fair to watch my co-worker's band play and roam around for a couple hours.

Coworkers! And beer!  Fun post-marathon recovery times.

By Monday, my legs were already itching to start moving again.  They were still sore, but not nearly as bad as I'd anticipated.  I actually managed to step down all 3 steps that lead to my apartment instead of executing my typical post-marathon grab-the-handrails-swing-and-leap move.  But I was a good girl and instead went into work for a few hours to start prepping for summer school.  I ended up just doing another long Lucy walk later in the day and stilled the restlessness in my legs with half a bottle of delicious wine and some girl talk that evening.

By Tuesday though, I was craving some sort of physical exertion.  I know it's ridiculous to feel "lazy" 3 days after running a marathon, but I did.  In large part because, while I am still trying my best to take a positive stance towards my not-so-fun marathon, I felt like I hadn't really and truly given it my all in the race and therefore didn't feel justified in relishing in post-marathon immobility.

Side note: thanks for all the reassuring FB comments.  You guys make me feel awesome when I'm not really feeling all that awesome.

So, I woke up Tuesday morning and took my routine 30 minute Lucy walk before heading in to work for the first day of summer school.  Everything went swimmingly and I was out the door by noon headed back towards Seattle and a date with Green Lake.  I was still hanging on to an ill-conceived belief that I wouldn't run for a week, so instead I met Ironman MacKenzie and Ironman Jason at the Green Lake bathhouse for our first open water swim of the summer season (not Jason's first, but me and MacKenzie's).  

I reacquainted myself with Green Lake.  We became best friends again.  I quickly recalled that I shouldn't think about the fact that I am swimming in Green Lake (eww) while actually in Green Lake.  I tried not to freak out too much when the seaweed floated into my face, and recalled fondly the days of smelling like neoprene from last summer.  It truly felt like summer again.

And the swim actually worked wonders for my recovery.  My back and neck, which had been more sore than my legs, felt amazingly loose and much better post-swimming.  My legs even loosened up a bit.  All in all, the first open water swim of the season was a success.

I did learn, courtesy of my fancy new Garmin 910XT, that I suck at
swimming in a straight line.

I took it easy again on Wednesday, trying to continue to be a good girl and not run.  So I did this instead:

Wednesday brunch complete with extra spicy Bloody Mary?  Yes, please.

But then today came.  And today, I felt no desire to "take is easy."  So I didn't.  First, I taught my half day of summer school and spent a couple hours starting to pack up the classroom.  Then I took another dip into Green Lake with Ironman Jason.

If you thought the first swim was bad, this makes me look drunk.
I wasn't.  Promise.  It kind of looks like a squid.  Or armless Frogger, mid-jump.
I totally did it on purpose.

And then, just a short hour later, Erica and I went for an "easy" recovery run (oops, still sub-9 pace) around Green Lake.  While I felt more winded than usual (something that seems to always happen to me post-marathon), my legs felt strong and I couldn't feel any soreness left in them.

Lucy's been helping with the healing of the blister, so I only felt a few
little pinches from it (I know, gross again, but that's true love right there).

Green Lake and I were the best of buds today.  I expect we'll have another date in the very near future.

Tomorrow is shaping up to be another pretty active day.  After a morning Lucy walk (and maybe a little yoga if I'm super motivated), I'm planning to take Old Reliable (yep, I decided to name my bike) out for her (or his?  I'm not sure yet) first spin of the season.  I want to do an easy 20 miles on the Burke and try to gauge how much seat time I'm going to need to put in to get things back in not-so-painful shape.  Then I've got a date with the Puget Sound, 2 stand up paddle boards, and my co-worker/also-not-working-for-the-summer friend Natalie.  This will be my first paddle boarding experience and am I'm super excited for it.  Natalie happens to own the 2 paddle boards so there will hopefully be many repeat forays in the sound in the future.  The weather is looking like it's going to be a scorching 80 degrees, which will be amazing.

And now that it truly feels like summer, and probably will even more so once the weather catches up tomorrow, it's time to set some summer goals.  If you remember, I set some pretty awesome summer goals last year, and then being the teacher I am scored myself in my Summer Goals Report Card.  Unsurprisingly, I  passed by "leaps and bounds."  This summer I have fairly similar goals with some slight alterations.  I've attempted to set myself up for even more success this summer.  Here goes:

Side note #2: This post is getting really long.  I won't be offended if you have to take a break and come back later.  In fact, I'll never know and then I'll think I have an amazing amount of pageviews for this post which will make me feel like the best blogger ever.

Summer Goals 2013

1)  Do different stuff.  Vague yes, but let me explain.  Since the start of Goofy training back in September, I've been doing nothing but run.  After my performance this past weekend, I'm kind of happy to put running a little further down the list for a while and focus on different things.  It won't disappear completely, it just may not be top priority for a while (which will probably mean running 2-3 times a week instead of 4-5).  This week I have been REALLY excited to do things that aren't running (swimming, soon biking and paddle boarding too).  I almost even bought a Groupon for 15 Crossfit classes, but then it was sadly sold out.  I'm keeping my eyes open for more though.

2)  Write more.  And write other stuff.  This was a goal last summer in which I gave myself the score of "semi-satisfactorily accomplished."  I wrote a decent amount of blog posts, but failed at writing anything else.  This summer I've set myself up for success.  I signed up for a fiction and short story writing class through the University of Washington, so unless I completely bomb the first college class I've taken since grad school, I think I've got this one in the bag.

3)  Enjoy teaching summer school.  I taught summer school last summer, but it was just a time filler.  I knew I'd get bored if I wasn't at least doing a little bit of work.  This year, I signed up again because it worked out perfectly last summer (2 days a week, 3 hours a day--just enough to keep me busy, but not too much to kill the whole summer).  I also thought I could take advantage of the afternoons down south to pack up the classroom a little at a time and cart everything up north bit by bit.  But really, I want to enjoy teaching the last moments I have at my current school.  It's going to be really hard to say goodbye, so I'd like to milk every minute I have with my Federal Way kiddos and coworkers.

4)  Lots of Lucy time.  Obviously.  Wouldn't want to get so caught up in everything else that I forget about the extra Lucy-dog cuddle time that summer allows me.

5)  Vary my cooking.  Last summer, the official grade for this one was: BIG FAIL.  I stuck to my peanut soy sauce noodle dish the same way I've stuck to it all year, with very minor variations in between.  I worry about setting this as a goal again, but I'm going to attempt it.  I've started getting a produce box delivered once a week, which has slightly varied my produce choices.  And I'm still set on visiting the farmers' market every Friday night.  I'm crossing my fingers I do better on this one this summer.  But I'm not holding my breath.

6)  Train for, and complete, a half-Ironman.  Yeah, this one's kind of a big deal.  I've got a race picked out (the Black Diamond long course on September 15--my dad's bday!), but I haven't committed to registration yet.  Although I'm pretty committed to the idea of it.  Ironman MacKenzie has already told me she'd join me, and since she's also a school employee off for the summer, this works out perfectly for training together.  And we're hoping to convince Ironman Kelly to join us too (Ironman Kelly, are you reading this??  You're being called out on the internet.  Now you must do it).  So there's that.

I think 6 is a nice, even, round enough number for summer goals.  I do have a new classroom to move into, a new school to get to know, and a new district to try to understand while I do all of this.  And only 2 months of "free time."

Let's get this summer started.

Cuddling commence.

Seattle Rock N Roll Marathon Recap: I got it done

Let's just say that Saturday didn't go as planned.  The race was a struggle for me almost the whole way.  Mentally and physically I just wasn't where I wanted to be.  I'll go into detail here in a bit, but I want to make something clear first.

No, the race didn't go as planned.  But sometimes plans don't work out.  And that's ok.  I'm not upset, sad, or angry.  I'm not wallowing in sorrow because I didn't make my planned time goal.   Because my 4:23 finish time still puts me in the top 30% of finishers for my division and gender, and top 40% overall.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed, but I only let myself be disappointed for a minute.  Because when it comes down to it, my "rough" marathon was still a marathon.  I completed my fifth 26.2 miles, and that's something I'm proud of, regardless of my finish time.  I don't know a whole lot of people who can proudly say they've run a marathon, let alone five.

I've heard a lot of stories from runners that have completed multiple marathons, and every one of them says that some races are good and some just aren't.  There's no predicting, no preventing, and no avoiding when that rough race will come.  I figure it's about time I paid my dues with a crappy race.  Now it's out of the way.

Despite Saturday's challenges, I'm still here and I'm still smiling and I feel the fight growing all the stronger in me for the next one.

Post race smiles happen whether or not you make your time goal.

Now on to the recap:

Some days you wake up and you just don't feel right.  Something feels off.  Not quite what it should be.

Saturday morning felt like that.  My alarm went off at 4:30, and as I reached over to turn it off, my brain was thinking it was time to go to work--and it took a minute before I registered that it was marathon day.  On a "normal" marathon day, I'd be jumping out of bed, brain focused and body full of nerves.  As I got dressed and prepped my race supplies, I had to keep telling myself it was marathon day.  It felt like I was getting prepped for a typical long run.  Not a marathon.

When I got to the race start, I was surrounded by nervous, excited teammates.  I tried as hard as I could to absorb their excitement and soak in their nerves, but my race day giddiness just wouldn't seem to kick in.

An amazing group of purple, excited marathoners ready to take on the day.  These people collectively
raised $180,000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society for this race.

Perhaps this picture more accurately depicts my fuzzy, not-quite-with-it pre-race feeling:

The body looks there and ready, the face and mind
not so much.

I went through the motions of our typical pre-race routines.  Starting with lots of group pictures.

Coach Erica and running buddy James.

Me and my co-worker ladies that I somehow convinced to join the crazy
marathon world with me.

Nothing but sparkle from Mr. Sparklepants.

I checked my bag and headed into my corral, hoping that being lined up and ready to go would jumpstart the nerves.

Me and the boys of corral 10.

But the nerves didn't come.  I learned early on in the competitive swimming days of my elementary and middle school years that if I wasn't nervous before a race, I wasn't going to do well.  Nerves are what get me  excited and get me pumped.  They're what push me to do and be the best.  I always had my best races when there was a lot of pressure on me, resulting in a lot of nerves.  So the fact that I was standing in my corral, minutes before the start and lacking anything but a tiny inkling of nervousness had me a little worried.

When we finally crossed the start line, I took off and tried not to psych myself out too much.  I focused on keeping my feet moving and trying to maintain the slow easy pace we wanted for our start.  And in fact, the pacing was pretty good for those first miles.  I kept up with my reminders to keep it slow and before I knew it, we were at the marathon/half marathon split around mile 6.  As the half marathoners turned left on Lake Washington and we turned right, we waved goodbye to a couple of the people that were in our starting group.

With 3 of us still together, James, Curt and I headed south down the stretch of Lake Washington toward Seward Park.  And it was at this point that I started to get a little worried again.  I was feeling a blister on my foot that I knew would be pretty terrible in a couple of miles.  And I was tired already, which I shouldn't have been.  On top of that, my stomach wasn't feeling top notch.  I could feel every GU I took in and stopped taking my mid-GU sport beans because things just seemed to be sitting there.

By the time we swung around back out of Seward Park and I saw the 90 bridge off in the distance, my thoughts were already turning negative.  I tried my best to remind myself of John Bingham's advice from our Inspiration Dinner for TNT the night before: "Define yourself."  But I was apparently defining myself as a Negative Nancy for the day.  I tried to dig deep and unearth that positive fighting voice I've come to know so well in my past races, but it just wasn't there.

Me, James, and Curt.  I'm smiling, but only on the outside.

By the time we hit the 90 bridge and climbed the steep little hill up to the express lanes at mile 15, I was already beginning to count down the miles.  Usually I can get to miles 18-20 before starting the ending countdown, but this race already seemed to be dragging for me.

Last week, the weather in Seattle was cloudy, in the 60s, and rainy.  And since Saturday, the weather has been about the same.  But on Saturday, the sun was shining and temperatures were supposed to peak around 80 degrees.  I had been sweating from the first mile, worried about hydration and salt intake, and the sun was out in full force.  

As we ran across the bridge, I could feel the sun, but there was a light breeze that kept the temperature pretty low.  By the time we started nearing the turn around point on the bridge at mile 18, I needed to take a port-a-potty pee break--which I saw as a good sign of proper hydration.  However, with the way I happened to time things, I had to run about 2 more miles before finally being able to stop.  We ran into Coach Jeff right at the turn around point, and I think he could tell right away that I was struggling.  He reminded me to re-set the brain, that it was just an 8 mile run from here.  I could do this.  And for a while, that worked.  Eight miles just 2 short weeks ago felt like nothing to me.  I could run 8 miles.

We finally hit a port-a-potty and Curt took off, concerned that he wouldn't be able to keep going if he stopped.  James stuck with me and waited for me to run the rest of the bridge together.

But by the time I hit mile 20, the heat on the bridge had gone way up, and my upper stomach had turned into a complete knot.  I could feel every ounce of liquid I took in and every little glob of GU I ate with each bouncing step.  I started to feel myself hunching over, straining my back, trying to overcompensate for the discomfort in my tummy.  I was tense, running with tight fists, and starting to get angrier and more upset with every step.  James reminded me that the 4-hour pacer was still behind us, which perked me up a little but I was losing hope that I'd be able to maintain pace.

By the time we hit the water stop at 20.5 and walked through to get water, I couldn't get myself running again right away.  I was feeling dizzy and trying my best to hold back tears.  I felt all the fight in me drain away in an instant.  As I watched the 4 hour pacer pass us by, I all but gave up right then and there.  I told James pretty adamantly to go on without me, but he walked with me until I could get going again.  We stuck together until about mile 21 when my pace slowed even more and James kept going.

Then it was a battle between me and my mind.  I hit the 90 tunnel off the bridge and started walking.  Then I kept walking.  And I walked the entire tunnel, trying my best to talk myself into running again.  I decided that once I felt able to get myself going again, I'd run 3 minute intervals with a minute rest in between.  I had done intervals like this while pushing through speed work at Tuesday practices, so I knew I could do it.  I told myself I could do it.  I started chanting it as a mantra in my brain, trying to stay focused on that one thing: "3 minutes running 1 minute rest 3 minutes running 1 minute rest."

I ran into a teammate, Liana, who was helping to sweep the half marathon as I approached the end of the tunnel.  When she asked how I was doing, and I replied that I felt like crap, she told me "Yeah, you don't really look so good."  But I told her my plan, and saying it out loud helped.  I got to the end of the tunnel, hit the sunshine again, and kicked my feet into gear.  I stuck to the 3:1 intervals, cursing how slowly time seemed to be passing in the running intervals and how quickly it seemed to be passing in the walking ones.  I bounced back and forth for a while with a 4:10 pacer, keeping up hope that maybe I'd still PR, but at the same time acknowledging that today was not my day.

Walking here, you can pretty clearly see how I'm
feeling.  Looking at my posture, I know why my back
and shoulders are more sore than my legs now.

I made it back into the city and it was right around mile 24 that I saw Erica running towards me.  I felt a huge rush of relief.  I knew she'd push me to the end and that I didn't have to fight by myself anymore.  She'd already been warned by a couple others that I wasn't doing so hot, so she was ready for my grumpiness.  She helped set mini goals for me, many of which I blatantly said no to, but it helped.  I kept running further than I probably would have on my own.  

Another shot of the pain face and Erica trying to
stay positive and keep me going.

In the last 2 miles I ran as much as I could and walked when I couldn't run.  I was trying to fight, but I didn't have a lot of fight in me.  My heart wasn't in it.  Erica helped get me through it though, right up until the last .2 miles.  I entered the finish chute, saw some familiar team faces and some friends who came down to cheer me on at the finish (thanks Cristin, Frani, and Joel--you guys are the best), and finally crossed the finish line 5 minutes slower than my current PR.  

I wasn't upset anymore, I wasn't angry anymore.  I wasn't even disappointed anymore.  Because I finished.  As I was cursing myself at mile 23, internally claiming that I'd never run another marathon again and only do triathlons from here on out, I had gotten all of it out.  At the end, I was happy to have finished.

Because I ran a marathon, and how could I in any way be disappointed with that?  I wouldn't allow it.  So I smiled as I got my medal.  I smiled as I walked the finisher's zone.  I smiled as I saw my all my friends back at the TNT tent.  I smiled as I talked about how hard of a race it was.  

Mentally, this race was 100x harder for me than Goofy was.  It was harder than any of my previous marathons, because I felt like I didn't have the fight in me.  But I gave all the fight that I had that day, especially given the stomach issues and massive blister I had developed in the early miles.

Gross.  I know.  But I never get blisters, so I had to
document this one.

I fought through this race in the best way I knew how.  Yes, I ended up running almost 25 minutes slower than I wanted to.  Yes, I forgot to actually enjoy the race (this may have been the biggest problem I had actually).  But I did the best that I could with the circumstances I faced.

I tried to give all I had for these guys.

And I couldn't be happier for that.

Change has arrived!

Making the decision to change your life isn't easy.  I feel as if this is a lesson I've learned many times.  I have, at several critical points in my life, made the decision to change things in a big way.  In college, as I wandered aimlessly, flip-flopping back and forth between a passion for psychology (understanding people) and writing (understanding myself), I made the very quick and suddenly deliberate decision to become a teacher.  Four years after that, when I realized that there was a gigantic gaping hole in my life, I decided to adopt my Lucy-dog.  A little over a year after that, it occurred to me that I felt like crap and Lucy was crazy, so I decided that we would become runners.  And not too long after that, I acknowledged that New York City and I just didn't get along, so I decided to hop coasts to Seattle.

All of these decisions have resulted in hugely positive effects on my life.  If I could turn back time, I wouldn't change a single one of them.  But that doesn't mean that these changes didn't come along with some major sacrifices.  When I decided to teach, I resigned myself to the fact that I would never be a money-maker.  When I got Lucy, I gave up a little bit of my freedom--being tied to only being away from home for a few hour chunks at a time, which can be limiting to a young 20-something.  When I moved to Seattle, I left my family and a good number of friends behind on the east coast.  And to be honest, there are still times when I miss NYC (just a little).

Change is inherently filled with sacrifice.  Something inevitably must be given up in order to fulfill a new desire.  When the instinctual need to hold on to that which is comfortable and familiar becomes less consuming than the desire for that which is new and different, then you can truly make the decision to change.

And in my humble experience, I've found that the act of making the decision for change is by far much more difficult than enacting the change itself.  I remember the exact moment when I decided to move to Seattle.  I was on a dog walk with my dad over winter break 2007 in Rochester when he helped me realize that this was something I truly wanted.  And it was like a wave of relief.  The months of agonizing, worrying, and weighing pros and cons were suddenly over.  The decision was made.  The rest was "easy."

It took me a really long time, but this year I finally made a decision to change my life again.  Since everything is finally official, I'm excited to finally be able to talk about it here.  I made this decision back in January, and it's been hard to write lately with this looming, life-changing decision hanging over me and not being able to write about it.

I decided to get a new job.  I'll still be teaching, of course.  In fact, I'll still be teaching first grade.  I'll just be doing all that 5 miles from my home now, instead of 30 miles.

Switching jobs may not seem like that huge of a change, but for me it is.  I've been at my current school for 5 years.  Taken into perspective, this also may not seem like that big of a deal, but again for me it is.  Look at it this way: since I left my parents house after graduating from high school in 2002, I have not lived in one place for longer than 2 years.  I lived in 5 different places during my 6 year stint in NYC, and I'm currently on my 3rd place in my 5 years here in Seattle.  That's 8 different apartments in the last 11 years.  I'm a bit of a transient.

So for me, having been in the same school, the same classroom, for 5 years--that's huge.  Lake Dolloff Elementary School has been my home for quite a while now.  My little windowless classroom has really grown on me.  The staff at my school has become my family.  They've helped me grow as a teacher, develop as a leader, and gain confidence in myself.  They've watched my running career develop from my first half marathon in 2009 to my 5th full marathon coming up this weekend.  They're my colleagues, but they've also become my backbone in a number of ways.  And I've made a lot of good (and hopefully lifelong) friends at Lake Dolloff.

Not to mention the kids.  But I feel like that's a given.  While I've had my little challenges, all in all the Lake Dolloff community is pretty great.

So why make the incredibly difficult decision to leave?

I could make a list, but there would only be one item on it:

TIME.

*(and I guess money would be a small, sub-aside too)

Lake Dolloff is 30 miles from my apartment.  Every morning I get in my car at 7 AM, and I'm lucky if I get to work by 7:40.  In the afternoon, I get in my car at 4 PM and am lucky to be home by 4:45.  So added up, on a lucky day, that's one hour and twenty five minutes in the car.  And that's on a really lucky day.

And let's think about that block of time away from home in terms of this one:

My little laundry helper.

On a lucky day, that's 10 hours I'm asking her to hold her bladder and wait around for me.  Can you hold your bladder for 10 hours?  I certainly can't.  Lucy is getting older.  Her 7th birthday was not too long ago, and I'd imagine that in a few years, she's not going to be able to hold it for 10 hours either.  And I don't really want to have to ask her to anymore.

Then there are the days that I have after school meetings or family nights or some other commitment directly after work.  Then I hire a dog walker to come by and let her out for a half hour, which costs me $21 each time.  Those $21 after school meetings (that I'm not getting paid for, by the way) really add up after a while.

And then there's the time in the car.  Time I could spend running.  Or writing.  Or walking Lucy.  Or being with people.  Or reading.  Or doing anything but driving in a car trying my hardest not to fall asleep on I5 (let's not talk about how many times I've literally slapped myself to stay awake).

And the gas.  Let's not talk about the gas either.

So with all the pros and cons added up and evened out, I finally bit my lip and made the extremely difficult decision to look for a job closer to home.  And ever since January, I've started making small transitions in order to get adjusted to the decision (telling my principal in March, telling my colleagues in May, starting to apply for jobs, doings interviews, easing myself into thoughts of packing up my classroom, etc).

And today, officially, I was offered a job.  I was offered the job.  The exact one I'd been looking for.  First grade, a diverse school, a good school district, a seemingly supportive staff, and all just 5 miles from home.  In the words of almost everyone I've told: "You could run there!!"  Finally getting the job is a huge weight off my shoulders and I couldn't be more ecstatic about how it worked out.

Lucy happy face.  This is exactly how I feel too.

It will be a big change.  But I'm ready to make the sacrifice.  It's time.

I can't wait to see what the next year will bring.

In the meantime, I've got a marathon to run in 3 days.  Time to stop procrastinating and start thinking about that...

Something's on its way

I'm itchy.

Not the dry-skin kind of itchy.  Or the ew-gross-rash kind of itchy.  Or even the first-grader-gave-me-lice kind of itchy.

It's an internal itch.  Almost like when you get an itch up inside your nose, right in your nasal canal.  An itch that's impossible to scratch no matter how you try to get at it.  Except this itch is in my bones.  It's an itchiness that extends deep down into the marrow of my bones.  Every single one of them.

It would be really easy to attribute all of this itchiness to the taper.  The taper is a time in training where there exists a constant internal battle to keep the pent-up energy in its cage.  For weeks, you've been telling your body to push harder, push faster, and give it your all.  And then, all of a sudden, it's "Wait, slow down, take it easy."  This is not an easy transition.

I'm now 2 and a half weeks into taper and my body, despite how much you think it might be used to this by now, is fighting against me.  Last week's mileage total capped off at 28 miles.  A vast difference from the 50 miles the previous week.  This week, it's already Wednesday, and I've only run about 8 miles so far.  My legs are itching to run far and run fast.  But the smart side of my mind keeps saying "cut it short" and "go slow."  So in reality, I've been coming out with average-distanced, a-little-too-fast-but-not-too-bad runs.

And then, to top that off, the race is just a mere 10 days away.  Per Ironman/Coach Jason's advice, this has been boldly splayed across my mirror for 4 days now:

Lowest goal time I'll admit to actually thinking
I can achieve.

I've never done the "visualize your time" thing before.  Most likely because I've never had such a solid time goal for any of my other marathons.  I'm still undecided as to how I feel about it.  It surprises me every morning.  It's the last thing I see before I go to bed.  And I can't tell if it's helping to put me in the marathon goal-oriented frame of mind, imprinting this time into my retinas, or if it's simply just freaking me out.

Because I'm kind of starting to freak out.  And that could be a cause of this itchiness I'm feeling.

Then there's also the fact that I have exactly 3.5 school days left.  Next Tuesday at 11:10 AM, I will put my little ones that I've learned to love so much onto the bus for the last time.  I also have mixed feelings about this.  I've had an amazing class of kids this year, and I wish them all the best in the world, just as I did for my little ones last year (click that link and read it, it's one I'm quite proud of).  I feel as thought it's going to be harder than usual to say goodbye to this group.  BUT, I simply cannot wait for summer to start.  I'm done for the year.  Final report cards are done.  The kids are all but completely spent and have lost any pretense of trying to follow all the rules.  We are all just counting down the days until we get to go out and enjoy all the beauty that Seattle summers have to give (well, I am...they're probably looking forward to playing video games all day).

And speaking of Seattle summers, we've been getting so many little tastes of the beautiful weather to come that it makes that 3.5 day count-down all the more excruciating.

Took this while traffic was at a dead stop on the viaduct after work the
other day.  Doesn't really do it justice.

All of that combined: the beautiful sunshine, the nearing of the last day of school, the rapidly approaching race day, and the internal frustration of tapering.  All of that could easily explain this itchy feeling I've got.

But somewhere in the depths of my mind, in those places you only get to on long, lonely commutes, or during times of too much thought, I feel like this itchiness is something altogether different.  Like the way Mary Poppins always knew that when she felt the altering of the winds, it was time for a change.  Change is on its way, whether I'm prepared for it or not.  And my bones are just itching for it.

In the past, when I've itched for change in this way, it has typically worked out well for me.  An itch for change is what got me interested in teaching.  It's what brought me Lucy.  It's what got me running.  It's how I ended up here in Seattle.  It's how I got myself wrapped up in Team in Training.  It's how I started this blog.  This internal itchiness has worked out pretty well for me in the past.

So while I find the wait time to be quite annoying and frustrating (like a clawing under your skin, the anticipation is entirely consuming), what I hope deep down is that I'm paying my dues for something really good that's coming my way.

At least that's what I'll keep telling myself.

National Running Day!

HAPPY NATIONAL RUNNING DAY!!

This beautiful sunrise did not happen today.  But it happened a
couple days ago.  Close enough.

Every runner who is connected to any sort of social network probably heard at some point today that it is National Running Day.  A day to brag about how awesome runners are and why running is the best thing in the whole wide world.

I celebrated National Running Day with a solo taper run after work.  I could have gone and joined a few other running friends at a group run later in the evening, but I was happy with sticking solo tonight.  I ran at my pace for exactly how long I wanted to.  In fact, I was super proud of myself that as I started feeling a little tummy-icky at the end of the run (too much kale for dinner last night? Or maybe the half a Costco-sized muffin I ate as a pre-lunch snack?), I just went home--instead of pushing miserably through the final mile of the run.  Yay for taper.  The perfect excuse to take it easier than you normally would without feeling any guilt pangs.

In honor of National Running Day, much of the running world is posting, blogging, tweeting, and meme-ing about why running is the best thing ever.  But I'd like to take a little twist on that here--because honestly, I think you're probably sick of reading about all the reasons why I think running is so awesome.  I kind of talk about it a lot.

Instead, I'd like to take a dip into the depths of a world in a parallel universe:

What Tessa's Life Would Look Like WITHOUT Running

*Just a warning: this might not be pretty.

1) Take this already tall and overbearing frame and add 20-30 lbs.  I like food.  I really like food.  I like to eat food.  And I like to drink wine.  It's quite tasty.  Beer too sometimes.  This body is capable of in-taking a surprising amount of calories in a day.  Without running to counteract all those yummy calories, it would get bad.  A visual:

Me +20 lbs circa 2007.  About 6 months before making the
decision to start running.

2)  I'd have a lot less friends.  I've collected quite a large number of running friends in my years with Team in Training.  Without these friends, I'd still have my "nonrunning" friends, but Lucy and I would certainly spend a lot more lonely time on the couch together.

Me and a few of my running friends in San Diego last year.

3)  I'd have no idea what my body is capable of.  Through running, I've learned things like:

• No seitan (a very tasty meat substutite) the night before a long run.
• If it hurts, keep going.  If it stills hurts, stop.
• You can go farther.
• Sleep is the most important thing.
• When you gotta go, you gotta go.  Porta-potties are your friend.
• Don't push it too hard, too fast--it might actually break on you.

...among others.  Without running, I'd be a blumbering, flailing mess of lanky limbs.  I'd treat my body like crap and then wonder why I felt tired and sick all the time.

4)  I'd lack self-confidence and have low self-esteem.  Before running, my self-confidence and self-esteem had pretty much bottomed out.  I didn't like who I was, didn't trust who I was, and worried that no one else did either.  But now, I am who I am and I am happy with that.  When I meet people, I try my best not to put on any false pretenses or play any games.  What you see is what you get.  If you don't like it, you can tell me.  I'll listen to your criticism, take it to heart, and then move on with my life.

5)  I wouldn't wake up to this every morning:

Accomplishments.  It's hard to tell, but each hook has at
least 3 accomplishments hanging proudly.

I rolled over in bed to turn off my alarm a couple of days ago, and opened my eyes to this scene.  The sunrise peering in the window, making these guys shimmer as brightly as the biggest smile you've ever seen.  I couldn't think of any better way to start the day.

6)  I'd be very indecisive.  I used to hate making decisions.  I always worried I'd make the wrong one.  I panicked if I was the one who had to decide where to go for dinner.  What if the food was bad?  What if there was too long of a wait?  What if the menu didn't have something for everyone?  Through running, I've learned how to pay attention to what I want and need, when I want and need it.  I've learned that in order to get what you want and need, you need to make the decision to obtain it.  Need help making a decision?  I'm your gal.  Call me Ms. Decisive.

7)  I'd be an insomniac.  On days that I don't run, I toss and turn all night.  On days I run, especially days when I run long and hard, I can almost sleep straight through the night.

8)  I wouldn't have any shoes.  Lucy would have eaten all of them in her early, energy-crazed years.  Because she wouldn't have been exhausted from the run we'd just been on.  For that matter, I probably wouldn't have any socks, underwear, or fabric on the corners of my couch either.

Sweet destruction.

9)  I'd have a lingering left knee injury and constant lower back pain.  Both of which plagued me until I started running.  Both of which were cured when strengthened through running.

10)  My brain would short-circuit.  I'd have endless, crazed, stressed, and consuming thoughts running on a repetitive loop continuously, consistently, and ceaselessly in my mind.  Without stress-relieving, thought-diminishing, worry-resolving daily runs, my brain would fry out from overuse.

11)  I'd be blog-less.  You wouldn't be reading this.

So as a summary: the parallel universe nonrunning Tessa is larger, friendless, body-abusive, unconfident, lacking in accomplishment, incapable of getting what I want, sleepless, shoe-less, full of pain, braindead, and blog-less.

Wow, that would suck.

Good thing I'm a runner.

Happy National Running Day.