Uphill climbing isn't easy...

I've been suffering from 2 fairly serious set-backs in my day-to-day running life for the past several months.  There have been many posts about my frustrations with these things.  These set backs have severely affected the amount of time I spend running, the amount of effort I put in while running, and the way I feel before, during and after running.

In fact, let's just put it out there and refer to these set-backs as what they are: "afflictions."  These afflictions have manifested themselves into two very distinct categories:

1)  The physical affliction - a nagging overuse knee injury that's hung around since mid-October.

and

2)  The mental affliction - a mental "burn out" (otherwise known as the loss of enjoyment in running) presumably the result of 3 consecutive marathons (interspersed with some halves) followed by a half Ironman.

If I've learned anything concrete about running in my years of endurance training, it's that running success is a direct combination between the physical and the mental.

 +  =

Then underlying, overlaying, and encompassing all of that is this:

 Pure heart.

The body and the mind, supported entirely by the heart of a runner is what feeds success in this sport (the definition of the term "success" is widely open to interpretation).  The success of a runner then feeds the heart which restarts the equation.  And around and around we go.

When a piece of the equation disappears or loses it's strength, things begin to slide out of rotation.  Instead of continuing the endless spiral upward (think spiral staircase to the sky), things begin to level out and eventually start spiraling downward (think sink drain).

When two pieces of the equation start to weaken, the downward spiral only intensifies (more like a drain in the bottom of a swimming pool).

Getting stuck in this downward spiral sucks.  It is, for lack of a better word, disheartening.

And when you get stuck in this awful downward spiral, the question inevitably becomes: When will I get to see the light of day again?  How do I reverse the direction of this thing?

I claim to be no expert in any of this.  All I can talk about is me and my over-thought analyses of my experiences.  But after spiraling downward for 3+ months, I can proudly proclaim that I've switched the direction of my spiral.  Things felt pretty dark and hopeless for a while, but I'm beginning to climb the hill now instead of slide down it.

There are a number of factors that I believe contributed to my ability to turn around on that hill (physical therapy, mental recharging, a nice long break, etc.).  And now that I've turned it around, I can officially say that I am in "recovery."  The bad part is over.

Now is the hard part.

As much as it sucks to be down here, climbing out looks a whole lot
harder than staying put.  

In order for me to make the decision to start climbing, I had to realize something.  Something that I knew once, but had forgotten in training season after training season.  One day, this thought occurred to me:

I don't have to run.  I choose to run.

Almost 6 years ago, I chose to run.  I fell in love with running, which made me want to run more.  I chose to sign up for my first half marathon.  And then my first marathon.  And then more.  And somewhere along the line, running started to feel less like a choice.  As impending races compelled me to "stick to the schedule" and "get my runs in," running started to feel less like something I wanted to do and more like something I had to do.  Even though I was the one that signed up for all these races, I somehow forgot that running was a choice.

It become an item on a checklist of things I had to do everyday:

1) Wake up: check

2) Walk the dog: check

3) Go to work: check

4) Run: check

5) Eat dinner: check

6) Sleep: check

The day I realized that running wasn't a requirement on an endlessly repeating list was the day I finally wanted to start climbing out of the hole.

And now, as I continue the climb up, each day I have to remind myself that running is a choice.  Each day, I have to remind myself that I don't have to run.  

And here's the next important step that I've discovered on my road to recovery.  Every day, after reminding myself that I don't have to run, I do one very important thing:

Listen.

And when dealing with two afflictions, there are two things that I try really hard to listen to:

1) I listen to my knee.  I check in with how it's feeling.  Has it been hurting throughout the day?  How did if feel when we ran yesterday?  Is today a day that it can run or does it need a rest?  If, after some very careful listening, my knee gives the okay then...

2) I listen to my head.  Where is my mind at today?  Was it a stressful day at work resulting in that innate need to run?  Or am I just tired and done?  Is that little ninja fighter in my head feeling strong today or does she need a break?  If, after some very careful listening, my mind gives the okay then...

I run.

But I keep listening.

Because this isn't an exact science.  Sometimes I make the right choice.  Sometimes the physical says yes and the mental says yes and that results in an amazing run.  But sometimes it doesn't.  Sometimes one or the other or both change their mind once we're out there.  And when that happens, I go home.  I don't push myself through miserable, painful, unnecessary miles.  Because, right now, I don't need to.

Right now running is a choice for me.

And maybe there are days where I listen, and the answer is no, which means I don't run.  And maybe that's the wrong choice.  Maybe running could have been the best thing I did for myself that day.  And I missed out on that.

But right now, running is a choice for me.  And I'm willing to take that chance.

Let's put all this in a real life context and look at the choices I've made so far this week:

Sunday: After an 8.5 miler on Saturday with Team, my knee wasn't feeling happy.  But it was a beautiful day and I wanted to get outside.  So I chose not to run.  But I chose to take Lucy for a nice long walk.  And that was enough.

Monday: After a nonstudent professional development day at work (meaning I sat in meetings all day, something teachers aren't typically fond of), I was itching to get out and move.  My knee was feeling ok.  So I ran.  But once out there, my mind wasn't in it and my knee wasn't feeling great.  So instead of pushing myself through a planned 5.5 mile loop, I cut back early and barely logged 3 miles  And that was enough.

Tuesday: I felt good and my knee felt good.  I met Ironman Jason for a loop around Green Lake and then continued running as I coached for Team practice, logging about about 7.5 miles total.  I felt great.  And that was enough.

Today: I woke up hoping to get in another short run after work.  I did a lot of miles yesterday and while my knee was feeling ok, I didn't want to push it.  Another easy 3 miler would be perfect.  But throughout the day, my mind wasn't into it.  I ended up staying at work 45 minutes later than I intended to.  I had to run an errand on the way home.  And by the time I got home, I made a different choice.  I didn't run.  And that was enough.

"Enough" is what I'm striving for right now.  I hope that in a couple months, I'll be ready to push a little bit beyond "enough" again.  I hope to enter into Eugene training fully recovered from both of my afflictions.  But right now, the best I'm allowing myself to hope for is "enough."

Each day I listen and I make a choice.

And I keep climbing up the hill.

Which is enough.

For now.

The Seahawks are going to the Superbowl! And here's why it matters...

I used to be a football hater.

I just didn't get it.  When I watched a football game, all I saw was really big men hurling themselves against each other every minute or so.  And then the clock would stop.  And it would take an hour (like...forever) to get through a 15 minute quarter.  I had no idea what a "down" was.  I couldn't understand why getting one "goal" got you six points and then you got to kick a little bonus point after.  And why did they kick it when the rest of the time they were running with and throwing the ball?  I mean really...make up your minds.

And the whole yelling at the TV thing.  That was beyond me. THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU EVEN IF YOU YELL REALLY LOUD.

Both my high school and college football teams may as well have been nonexistent.  Lack of real skill plus lack of community excitement equals frequent exclamations of "Wait! We have a football team??"

These guys don't make college football news all that often.

I didn't grow up in a sports watching family.  Not to say that we weren't athletic.  We just participated in the sports--we didn't watch them.  The few times I remember my dad watching anything, it was basketball games.  And it quickly got voted off the screen by mom and the 4 children in favor of cartoons or sitcoms.  I remember the "Ugh, basketball?!?" cries of indignation as we walked into the living room and realized there was a game on our TV.

I didn't live in a city that was dedicated to its sports.  Rochester, NY doesn't have any major teams.  Our closest team is the Buffalo Bills.  And seeing as they haven't made it to the playoffs since 1999 (after suffering 4 consecutive Superbowl losses several years before that), there wasn't too much excitement surrounding them in my middle and high school years in Rochester.  Not hating on the Bills here.  I will proudly proclaim to be a downtrodden Bills fan now and keep them on my ScoreCenter update feed.  There just wasn't any excitement surrounding them in my world in the late '90s.

Go Bills!! When the Seahawks aren't playing.

My first experience with any major football game happened in college when I went to visit a friend at University of Michigan.  It happened to be Homecoming weekend and there was a game in "The Big House."  We woke up at 7 am, were playing beer pong by 8, and the rest of the day is a blur.  The stadium fascinated me, the crazed fans confused me, and the excitement of an entire community centered around a sports team baffled me.

Then I went back to NYC and forgot about it.  I made it through 6 years in NYC without ever seeing a game.  I never even made it to Yankee Stadium (I'm well aware that's a baseball stadium, but the fact contributes to my explanation here)--and the original one closed the year that I left.  Football was the furthest thing from my mind in NYC even though there are in fact three teams to choose from in that state (actually, now I believe that part of New York's problem is that there are too many teams to rally around--I mean really, the Giants and the Jets even play in the same stadium...why 2 teams?).

And then, I moved to Seattle.

Side note: There seems to be a "Seattle changed everything" theme in my life.  I apparently didn't care about much besides teaching and school until I moved here.  Which isn't bad, but there are other things in the world too, which I have since learned about.

My first year in Seattle, I fell immediately into a dedicated crowd of football fans.  The 2008 football season wasn't the highlight of the Seahawks career, and I learned the term "fair-weather fan."  But I loved the fair weather fans, because that meant that me and my friends could get cheap tickets to Qwest field.  We could find tickets the day before a game for as little as $35.  Which resulted in me attending six football games that season.

This football hater went to six games.

Before every game, we tailgated (protected from the rain under a viaduct that no longer exists).  I learned what it meant to shotgun a beer.  We didn't show up in the stadium often until well after the end of the 1st quarter.  While initially I was probably way more excited to wake up on a Sunday morning, hang out with friends, and have an excuse to drink all day, I eventually started paying attention to the actual game.

Awesome 12th ladies.  Seahawks vs. Patriots 12/7/08.  I am swimming in my
borrowed jersey.

And then as time passed, I actually started liking the game.  I learned some of the rules.  I began to understand the importance of a first down.  I remembered to call them touchdowns instead of goals.  I learned how to calculate points.

Since that season, I can say that my knowledge of football has grown immensely.  I've learned that the quarterback isn't the only player that matters on the team.  I actually get the point of running plays now.  I know what flags are for and understand the panic of one on a big play.  I understand the importance of having a high point differential.  Especially after this year, I realize that having an amazing defense is just as important as a good offense--those guys aren't just bodies on the field blocking the way.  It takes some real skill to do what they do.

Since that first season, I've never made it to more than one game per year.  I probably won't ever be a season ticket holder or go to nearly that many games in a season again.  So that first year will always be kind of special.

But from 2008 to 2013, my love and loyalty to the Seahawks has only increased.  And while my knowledge of the game itself has played a role in keeping me interested, that is not the reason why I have become a football fan.

What I've learned in my 5 year development as a 12th man is that it has very little to do with the actual game.

I mean, of course the game is important and there are lots of fans out there who love the game for just the game, but for me, what I really love about football isn't the game.

It's kind of like running (isn't everything?).  I love running.  I love everything about running--the way I feel after a good run, the grit of a good fight through a tough run, the amazing friends I've made in the running community, the incredible benefits to my health.  There are a lot of things I love about running, but one of the things I love the least about running is actually running.

This girl does NOT want to be running.

What's great about football, and what I believe is uniquely great about the Seahawks, is the 12th man.

Pause for those who need a 12th man explanation:  Seattle Seahawks fans are notoriously known for being the loudest, most loyal fans in football (we've actually registered small earthquakes due to explosive cheers in the stadium during games--google the term "beastquake").  The Seahawks players and management acknowledge and praise the presence of these fans.  In football, there are 11 players out on the field.  In Seattle, the "12th man" is the fans.  In 1984, the president of the Seahawks acknowledged the importance of the fan presence on the field by retiring the #12 jersey.  Now, you can buy #12 jersey (like any other jersey) but instead of a player name on the back, it says "fan."  To show support of the team, flags with 12 are flown throughout the city and the team raises the 12th man flag before every game in the stadium.  Check out this link for more history on the 12th man.

Even the Space Needle sports its 12th man flag during important games.

The Seattle Seahawks have an amazing relationship with their 12th man.  They acknowledge us in interviews--we were the ones that kept them going.  No one wants to disappoint the 12th man.  And yes, I realize that these guys are paid millions of dollars to play this game, but I believe them when they say that they play their best for us and we are who they're fighting for.  And that feels pretty darn good.

What it really comes down to is this:  when I am watching a game, cheering on my team, reacting to every disappointment and excitement...I am a part of something.

We had a door decorating contest at school, and I cannot even begin to tell
you how excited my little first graders were to put this together.

I am a part of this amazing city where thousands upon thousands screamed in pure undignified glory when Sherman tipped Kaepernick's last pass for an interception.

I am a part of the packed bar where people are standing on chairs and tables, belting "We are the Champions" at the top of their lungs.

I am a part of crowds of strangers high fiving and hugging each other, making contact in a world where interactions like this rarely exist.

I am a part of the endless conversations at work and elsewhere, recapping events, squabbling over opinions, and finding connections with people I previous thought I had nothing in common with.

I am a part of my group of friends who get together every week, win or lose, because this thing is important to us.

Me and the rest of the 12th man are a part of something.

And isn't that what we all really want anyways?  To be a part of something?

As a former football hater, I can't justify hating something that brings people together.  That makes them smile and feel true joy.  

And while it's not always smiles and hugs, when it is, there are SMILES and HUGS.  And even when there aren't smiles and hugs, we're all in it together.  So that makes it okay.

I certainly can't hate that.

More 12th ladies (and one Patriots fan).  All together and smiling.

So...the Seahawks are in the Superbowl and I am not at all ashamed to admit that I am beyond excited.

I am not ashamed to admit that it matters.

GO HAWKS!!!

Update: 30 things to do before I'm 30

T minus 3 days until I'm 30.  And seeing as there won't be a lot more checking things off the list between now and Thursday morning at 12:16 AM, I'm going to go ahead and file my progress report.

Almost exactly 4 months ago, I made a list of "30 Things I'd Like to do before I'm 30 that I've never done before." 

I feel like I could have come up with a more concise, clear name than that.  Oh well, what's done is done.  And here is how I did.

Progress Report: 30 things I'd like to do before I'm 30 that I've never done before

1)  Do a half Ironman.  Check.

Remember this?  It was awesome.  Find the recap here.

2)  Get my tattoo.  Fail.  I got a great recommendation for an artist but never followed through.  This will happen someday.  I have no excuse for not doing it other than lack of time commitment.  And that's a poor excuse.

3)  Take a cooking class.  Check.  Sierra, Erica and I had a fabulous evening at Hipcooks one evening before the holiday break learning how to cook and enjoy delicious Thai food.  

Look at me, cooking Thai food!

Then 2 evenings later, Sierra and I remade the fantastic meal (or at least the parts of it we really enjoyed). 

It tasted even better when we adjusted things to fit our own flavor palates.

 And since then I've incorporated some of the tips and flavoring techniques we learned into my bi-weekly peanut/soy sauce meal.  It has now morphed into a much tastier dish (not that it wasn't tasty before, but now it's even tastier) with the addition of lime, brown sugar, fish sauce, thai chilies, and garlic along with other ingredients that have incorporated their way into the meal in the last 2 years (rice vinegar, mirin, ginger, sriracha).  It's not quite the "quick and easy" one dish it used to be, but it's fabulous and still doesn't take very long.

4)  Volunteer at a women's and/or homeless shelter.  Check.  After seeing this item on my list, Coach Nadine contacted me and let me know that she had contacts with an emergency women's and children's shelter called Mary's Place in downtown Seattle.  Every Sunday at Mary's Place, a group of volunteers both cooks and serves dinner to the women and children at the shelter.  After recruiting Erica and Dorothy as well, we spent an afternoon cooking a taco bar at Nadine's house and then carted it downtown to serve at the shelter.  It was a great day.  So glad I put this one on the list.

Chop, chop, chop.

Nadine and Erica, chicken shredding extraordinaires! 

5)  Take a road trip somewhere new.  I was going to cheat and count the road trip home from Portland with my mom, Erica, and Ana for the Portland Half.  But after last weekend's slightly nerve-wracking drive up to Mt. Rainier to go snowshoeing, I don't have to cheat anymore.  Me, Erica, Ana, and Amber all piled into Ana's little car and drove 3+ hours to Mt. Rainier and back.  The driving trip included a stop to put on (and then take off) chains on Ana's tires--a first for almost all of us.  It also included my first Dairy Queen stop in years.

6)  Publish a short story to the blog.  Check.  I published one of the stories I wrote for my fiction writing class over the summer.  It was based on a prompt: "You're in a box on wheels going down a hill..."  I got a lot of good feedback on it from my classmates and professor, so figured it was safe for publishing.  In case you missed it, it's at the bottom of this post.

7)  Ride the Ducks in Seattle.  Check.  I roped my mom into playing tourist with me during the weeks she was here for the Portland half marathon.  It was fun.  I'd do it again.

We're on a duck!!

8)  Run the Golden Gardens Stairs.  Fail.  I don't really have an excuse for not doing this.  Although I have been injured for several months, so I could pull that card.  However, I am signed up to do the Big Climb as a part of Team Yanni to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society on Sunday, March 23rd.  During that race I will climb a whole lot more stairs than exist at Golden Gardens.  I'll be climbing the Columbia Tower in downtown Seattle, which includes 69 flights of stairs, 1311 steps, and 788 feet of vertical elevation.  So there's that.

***By the way, I'm hoping to raise $500 for LLS for this event, so if you'd like to donate to support me, Yanni, and the amazing organization that is LLS, please donate generously on my fundraising page.

9)  Do a mud run.  Fail.  There wasn't one that worked out time-wise.  I wanted to do LLS's Pineapple Classic, but it fell on the same morning as my first Team in Training practice for Spring Team.  And being a coach, I didn't really want to miss that.

10)  But a toaster.  Success!!  It may have taken me months from way back at the beginning of the summer when I massively burned my arm on the oven door and finally admitted to needing one, but it happened.  And not only did I get a toaster, I got a toaster oven.  If that doesn't make me a grown-up, I don't know what ever will.

I also got a crock pot and a wine rack.  And my mom took me shopping to
get them all when she was in town.  Darn, I think that takes away the
"being an adult" aspect of it all.  It's ok, I don't really want to grow up anyways.

11)  Take a dance class.  Super fail.  I chickened out.  No excuse.

12)  Get 8 hours of sleep every night for a week straight.  Impossible.  I don't know why I even thought I could do this.  Crazy.

13)  Get rid of horrible commute/be brave and start a new job.  Been there.  Done that.  Still setting into life as the new girl at school, but couldn't be happier that I made the change (as much as I miss all my LDFers).  Having a 15 minute commute can't be beat.

14)  Walk a dog at a dog shelter.  Check and check.  Coach Nadine hopped on board with helping me out with this one too.  I got connected with Seattle Animal Shelter and got approved for their Get Fit with Fido program.  This is not just a program where I walk dogs, but one where I will run with dogs.  Two of my absolute favorite things in the world: running and dogs.  I took the 2 required trainings (Shelter 101 and Safe Dog Handling) and am currently working my way through my 6 required shifts of dog walking before I can start running with the pups.  And I have yet to bring home a friend home for Lucy.

I think she's still perfectly happy as a spoiled only child.

15)  Make a delicious baked item.  Kind of check.  I got inspired to make chili in my new crockpot a few months ago.  And I can't have chili without cornbread.

It was delicious and it required baking.  It even brought
back some nostalgic childhood memories.

I had planned to do better than this, but it's all I've got and I'm counting it.  Although I have been saving frozen bananas for weeks now, hoping to get my hands on a good banana bread recipe.  Got any?  I'll make it when football season is over and I have my Sundays back.

16)  30 random acts of kindness.  Check.  I might be cheating a bit on this one too because I never deliberately performed 30 random acts of kindness.  However here's the thing: I'm a first grade teacher.  And I think that I can safely claim that I perform 30 random acts of kindness per day for my little ones.  Whether it's teaching them something new, reteaching something they didn't get yesterday, or zipping up a coat, they get to absorb every ounce of my heart, patience, and kindness between 8:30am and 2:55pm every day.  So I'm going to say that counts.

17)  Be a coach for TNT.  Did it and doing it.  And loving it.

Me and my white board are ready to go every Saturday
morning.  Stick people sketches and all.

18)  Go to the top of the Space Needle.  Check.  This was another part of dragging mom along for "pretend to be a tourist in Seattle" day.  Although mom really is a tourist here.  I just don't think she particularly enjoys doing touristy things.  Nonetheless, she smiled through our day of tourism.

The view from the top.  It really is a beautiful city I live in.

19)  Hike to Camp Muir with Yanni.  Yanni was a little bit busy ninja-fighting cancer and running marathons.  She's kind of awesome.  I hope we get to do this someday soon.

20)  Cook something new.  Check.  I bought a crock pot and cooked about 5 new recipes until it disappeared into the cupboard a month ago and I haven't seen it since.  I also cooked my delicious Thai dinner.  Yum.

21)  Make a list of 40 things to do before I'm 40.  Quarter-check.  I started the list, but it's actually kind of hard.  I currently have 10 items on my list.  Most of them are items from this list that weren't accomplished.  Others include: falling in love, starting a family, and becoming an Ironman.  I have a lot of work to do in the next 10 years.

22)  Run one more half marathon.  Double check.  I ran alongside my mom who sped-walked the Portland half marathon in October.  She walked so fast that I had to run to keep up.  

I realize I used this picture in last week's post.  But it's relevant again.  And
look how happy mom is.

Then I somehow made it slowly but surely through the Seattle half marathon on a bum knee.

I PR'd the last 2 years in this race.  It was not in the cards this year.

With those 2 added to my list, here is my race count as I turn 30:

5 marathons

11 half marathons

1 half Ironman

1 sprint triathlon

many other 5K-10Kish races

I can't say I'm ashamed of those numbers.

23)  Try a new sport.  Double check on this one too!  In November, I went on my first ever trail run to celebrate Coach Jeff's birthday (yes, trail running is a different sport from regular running).

8+ miles, a couple thousand feet of elevation.  A not-so-
healthy knee.  Maybe not my smartest choice.  But it was
lots of fun!

Then last weekend, I went showshoeing for the first time at Mt. Rainier (hence the road trip to Rainier mention in #5).

Ladies in snowshoes.  That was the most snow I've seen
all winter.

We drove 3+ hours to go snowshoeing for 2 hours and drive home for 3+ hours.  But it was a beautiful day and my first trip to Rainier.  All in all, totally worth it.

24)  Try a new cuisine.  Inadvertent fail.  I actually thought really hard about this one.  As I thought about planning a small birthday dinner for Thursday night, I looked up restaurants for cuisines that I haven't tried yet.  And to be honest, I couldn't really find any.  From Ethiopian to Korean to Scandinavian to Greek, there aren't a lot of options our there for me to try that I haven't already.  Maybe I didn't get creative enough, but I actually put effort into this one and came up empty.

25)  Watch a meteor shower.  Fail.  I totally forgot about this over break.  Oops.  It's going on the 40 things before 40 list.

26)  Volunteer for Make a Wish.  Another fail.  But also not for lack of trying.  I looked up information and volunteer applications on the Make a Wish website, but had to push this one to the side.  With the time commitment I'd already undertaken for volunteering at Seattle Animal Shelter and coaching for TNT (and the whole teaching thing), this just wasn't a commitment I could logistically make.  It'll go on the 40 things before 40 list too.

27)  Originally empty but later filled with: For 30 days, write down one thing each day that you are thankful for.  Check.  Here's my little red book as evidence:

I faithfully wrote in this little guy every night for 30 days.

A random snippet of things I was thankful for in the month of October: random unsolicited compliments with no expectations attached, cross-training, clean sheets, the Portland Saturday market, squeaky Lucy yawns, great friends, TNT, lazy Sundays, and perspective.

28)  Left empty until about 2 weeks ago, turned into: Go to a casino.  I spent my New Year's Eve at Snoqualmie Casino.  Most people find it unbelievable that until then I had never set foot in a casino.  I walked in the door with $40 and walked out with $190.  I also got to dance care-free a for couple hours, part of the time with a tall cute boy who made me feel pretty for just a little bit.  Not a bad way to start the year.

Every now and then it's fun to get dressed up, put on a pair of heels, and
feel pretty for a night.

29)  Also empty when the original post was written, but turned into: Rediscover why I love to run.  Check.  It may have taken a knee injury, a few weeks off from running, and then some weeks of forced reduced-distance and reduced-intensity running.  But finally, after what feels like a really long time, I come home from work most days and want to run.  I'm beginning to need to run again.  And in turn, I'm beginning to feel more like me again.  Funny how those two things go so closely hand in hand.

30)  Skydive!!  Sad fail.  After my original post, I only had a couple weeks of good Seattle weather to try to do this and it didn't work out.  Then the weather turned and won't be back up to par for skydiving again until the spring.  I am in no way giving up on this one.  It will happen.

So there it is.  I'm not really sure how I did.  I accomplished a lot of the important ones, but failed at a few items too.  And some I fudged in order to give myself a check.  I'd like to say I give myself an A for effort at least.  And many of the ones I missed, I still plan to do at some point.

So now the question that's left is: How do I feel about turning 30?  I could lie here and say "life is great!" and "I've done so much, who cares about turning 30!" but I'm not here to lie to you.  I thought that was how I would feel when I turned 30, but after a middle of the night semi-breakdown with my sister over the holidays, I do realize that this number is affecting me in the stereotypical way. 

So here's an honest answer:  I'm proud, excited, a little bit sad and a little bit scared.  I'm proud of everything I've done with my first 30 years of life.  I'm excited because I know that I have so much more living to do.  And I know that the best is yet to come.  But I'm a little bit sad because I feel like I'm leaving behind a part of my life that I won't get back.  And leaving things behind is always sad.  I'm also a little bit scared that maybe the best isn't yet to come.  That maybe I won't find want I'm looking for.  Maybe all this optimism won't pay off in the end.

But I don't think the way I feel is any different from any other birthday.  On birthdays we look at our life, where we've been, and where we might go.  And I think proud, excited, sad, and scared pretty much sums it all up.

Here's hoping the next 30 years bring everything I've dreamed of.  And if not, here's to hoping I'm happy with it anyways.

I won't start over, but it's time to reset

I'm not someone who usually puts a lot of stock in New Year's resolutions.  I'm not super comfortable with the idea that the changing of the year, the ticking of the clock, and the movement from one day to the next should determine my motivation to improve my life.

I mean, I get it.  I understand it.  It's a big number that's changing.  It's a metaphorical re-start.  It's a point in time to look at and say "There.  There is where I'll make the change."  And more power to you for it.  If you choose to change your life for the positive, I don't care your reasoning for it.  Do it.  And keep doing it (don't give up when January peters out).

But for me, I've just never been a fan of looking at New Years that way.  I'm the type of person that is constantly evaluating, re-evaluating, analyzing, over-analyzing, reflecting, rethinking, and setting goals (or getting angry at myself for not meeting them).  I do not need nor want yet another reason to examine my life and weigh its successes and failures against one another.  Oftentimes I just get fed up with examining my life.  Sometimes I just want to live it.

This year, however, my bah humbug attitude towards the New Year seems to have become overcome with more optimism than I typically find in early January.  Maybe it's because of the challenges this past year threw at me.  Maybe it's just because of the challenges of the past several months, which seem to be fading away.  Maybe it's because in exactly 10 days, I will be 30 (2014 is a big number, but 30 is way bigger).

Whatever it is, I'm feeling glad that 2013 is over and 2014 has shown up.  I'm ready more than ready to hit the reset button.

Remember way back when we had Nintendo?  Not the stuff we have now.  Not Wii or Xbox or Playstation or whatever else is out there now that I have no idea about.  Real old school Nintendo is what I'm thinking of.

Yeah, this one.  From the days when we were tethered to the box by a cord.

Remember how it worked?  Pixelated graphics, only four directions to move.  Walk or run, no in between.  Duck Hunt was the most amazing invention we'd ever conceived.

I refused to play the actual duck shooting one--I'd only shoot at the clay
discs.  Such a righteous little child I was.

Remember when you were playing these games when sometimes the screen would just gradually start to turn to snow?  You wouldn't notice it at first, but pretty soon you'd start to lose your super fancy graphics to the stripey fuzz of an analog TV.

And the solution to this?  Give the machine a tap.  On the top or side.  Sometimes with more force than others.

Then, you'd keep playing.  Everything would be good for a little while, until things started to succumb to the fuzz again.  Give it a gentle tap (or more forceful slap) and all would be good again.

This would continue.  Minutes of clear pixelated fun followed by some bouts of fuzziness, knock it back to life, repeat.

(Bear with me, I'll get back to the New Year thing)

But sometimes, you'd get fed up with it.  When the fuzzies came more frequently or too quickly, or when the forceful slams stopped working, it was time to give up and hit the reset button.  Lose everything since the last time you manually saved the game.  Accept minor defeat by the machine.  Reset.

And after that, if the troubles still continued, the last resort was to power down.  Shut it off.  Pull out the game and blow on the little metal teeth, reinsert game, and power back up.  But that was only for major defeats.  When the machine really refused to work.

With all that in mind, here's what 2013 was for me:  it was that space of time between when the game hit the first fuzzy point to when you decided to reset.

Last January, things started off working great.  I conquered the Goofy Challenge with more than a smile on my face.

1 weekend, 2 races, 3 medals. Immeasurable fun.

I felt strong starting training for my next marathon after taking a forced 2 week hiatus from running (my meager attempt to avoid burnt-out runner syndrome).  February hit, and I entered what I termed the "February Doldrums."  This was the first little bit of fuzziness.  Not too much though, and with a little tap, all was clear again.

After that, I made it through my March Madness of races: Hot Chocolate 15K, St. Patty's Day Dash, and culminating with a pleasantly unexpected PR at the Mercer Island Half.

Even got an unexpected medal.

April and May were filled with peak marathon training.  There were clear ups and fuzzy downs.  Nothing too drastic.  Nothing that couldn't be quickly knocked back into focus once it got fuzzy.  But, the fuzzy points got a little more frequent.  There were more runs that didn't feel great sprinkled with some really great ones (the great ones being the ones that made it on blog recaps).  The clear spots didn't last quite as long as I wanted.

And then there was June.  The Seattle Rock N Roll Marathon.  And let's just say, that didn't go so well.  You can go back and read the blog recap if you haven't already.  A race recap titled "I got it done" doesn't show a whole lot of enthusiasm about how it went.

And after that, the fuzziness stuck around for a little longer than normal.  For at least a month, things just weren't right.  Running wasn't what I wanted to be doing.  This time around, it required a big hard slap to clear things up again.  Which, luckily, happened when I ran the Ragnar Relay.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, I had 3 really
great runs.  Including one really awesome 9 miler in pitch
darkness at 2 am.

That little runner's high lasted a little bit.  But I quickly refocused my energies on my quickly approaching triathlon.  I turned my focus from running to swimming and biking.  I could easily ignore my lack of enjoyment in running when I had other things to focus on.  Swimming and biking kept me occupied enough to keep the world clear through the summer months.  As I approached my race day in mid-September though, things started getting a little fuzzy again.  I was ready to be done training.  Aside from my minor 2 week hiatus back in January, I had been training for one thing or another for an entire year.

That little fuzziness was cleared up by the completion of my first half-iron distance triathlon.  I even managed 3rd place in my tiny division.

I may not be a whole iron woman, but I can at least claim
to be half of one.

After that though, things seemed to go quickly back to fuzz again.  I was done.  I was burnt out, trying my best to keep myself motivated to be out there running ("rediscovering my love for running" as I termed it).  But it just wasn't clicking.  By early October when I crossed the finish line of the Portland Half with my mom, I had all but given up on trying to clear the screen.

Mom's first half!  Excited to do this again with the dad in tow sometime in the
future.

And then, just a short week or so later, my knee injury showed it's ugly face.  And since, then, as positive as I've tried to remain about the whole thing, things have pretty much looked like this without much relief:

Lots and lots of snow.  And not the good kind.

I took just about a month off completely from running, and did very little running once I started again.  There have been PT appointments, attempts at other forms of exercise, and many frustrating attempts at running.  There was the Seattle Half on Thanksgiving weekend.

A fun day, but that's pretty much all I can say about it.

After that, I ran off and on through December, hoping every time that maybe this time it wouldn't hurt.  Maybe this time I'd be able to go a little faster.  Maybe this time things would start to feel better.

But it didn't.  Not really.  No matter how many times I tried to knock that stupid Nintendo, the fuzz just wouldn't clear.  I even stopped keeping up with blog posts.  Because I didn't have anything very positive to say, so I didn't really feel much like publicizing it.

Just before New Years though (literally, a couple of days), something happened.  I decided to go out for a run.  I decided to keep following my 5:1 run:walk ratio prescribed by my PT.  And I paid really close attention to what I was doing.  I didn't think about anything else but running.  And here's what happened: I noticed that when I held my body the way the PT told me too (and I was able to now with my newly strengthened core and glutes from a few weeks of daily strengthening/stretching exercises), my knee stopped hurting.  Not completely.  The pain went from a 4 to a 1 (or 2).  There was still a nagging tightness, but when it started hurting, I could adjust my form and make it stop.

Control.  I found a way to control it.  And OMG the world is right again when I can control things.

I went to PT the next day and bragged about my new discovery.  I celebrated with my physical therapist.  I told her that I was finally seeing a light.  It was way down there at the end of a long long tunnel, but it was there.  Sorry to switch up the metaphor.  Bad writer.  I'll stop that now.

Then it was New Years.  I got dressed up super fancy with my friends, drank way too much, had a lot of fun, and celebrate the onset of 2014.

And after a couple more mostly successful runs, here we are.  And here's what I've decided about 2014: it's time to hit the reset button.  I'm not saying that I'm power off, shutting down, or starting over.  I don't need or want that.  But I needed a reset.  Enough of the quick fixes--the little taps to try to get myself back in place.  They aren't working anymore and were just a minor fix anyways.  I need to face the minor defeat and reset.

I have an inkling of a plan of what re-setting looks like for me.  But it's just forming.  For now, admitting that I need it is enough.  Knowing that, I went for a run today.  I kept to my 5:1, but I focused on what I should and enjoyed the struggle it took to push myself just a little faster.  I didn't and won't focus on pace in this reset, but at the end of it all, I was pretty happy to see a couple sub-9 miles even with my walking interval.  I've started the reset.  It's beginning to work.

I'm going to keep working on this reset, and will probably tell you about it at some point.  But not yet.

In the meantime, Happy 2014.  It's going to be a great.

I can literally feel it.