It's not fair

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

But then I went for a run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something I do quite often.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm mixing it up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And my current favorite is Child's Pose:  

I could easily fall asleep in this position.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why I write

Back when I started this blog about a year and a half ago, people would often ask me, "Why are you writing it?"  And I could never come up with a succinct, coherent answer for them.  I still get asked the question every now and again, and up until very recently, I couldn't quite articulate my reasons in a way that seemed logical.

Not that I think anyone needs a coherent, succinct, logical reason for writing a blog (or anything else for that matter), but I'm a person of the type that likes to find the "why" behind things.  I like to think there's a reason for everything, and therefore I should have a reason for this.

There's a reason I didn't run today (my legs and abs are ridiculously sore from our after school boot camp on Monday that is now being led by our P.E. teacher.  Then I ran yesterday for the 2nd time since Goofy.  Crazy sore).

There's a reason I became a teacher (because I love learning and want to share that love with the children).

There's a reason I got Lucy (because she's fabulous and she got me running).

There's a reason I moved to Seattle (actually, lots of reasons...too many to list).

There's a reason why I'm closing in on 30 and still single (currently looking for the reason but I know it's there somewhere...it'll turn up at some point).

There's a reason for everything.

So when I randomly stumbled upon this quote a few days ago, the reason why I write became abundantly clear:

"A writer writes not because [s]he is educated but because [s]he is driven by the need to communicate.  Behind the need to communicate is the need to share.  Behind the need to share is the need to be understood.  The writer wants to be understood much more than [s]he wants to be respected or praised or even loved.  And that, perhaps is what makes [her] different from others."     ~Leo Rosten

 Every word of this quote resonates with me.  "To be understood..."  It is all I ever wanted.

Writing is something I have always loved.  I kept journal after journal after journal from elementary school all the way up through college (sometimes in fits and starts in the later years).  In middle school, I wrote almost daily.  In high school, I wrote when I was sad or scared.  In college, I wrote when I was lonely or angry at New York City.  Before I realized that teaching was my calling, I was going to minor in Creative Writing in college.  Writing has always been with me.  But until reading that quote, I didn't quite get why.

I still have many of my diaries, journals, and writings saved in random places throughout my apartment.  Stacks of journals in drawers, notebooks filled with random thoughts and poetry on shelves, computer files full of "stories" and "books" that were attempted but abandoned just as quickly.  And when I go back to read all of these writings, the one thing that stands glaringly out is that I have always been a girl who silently screamed out to be understood.  "Please hear me," and "please understand" are phrases repeated hundreds of times on those pages.

I wanted to be heard.  I wanted to be listened to.  But I didn't know how to reach out.  I was too scared to say it all out loud.  So instead I told the pages.  Instead, I became a writer, trying to put my thoughts into words that people could understand, eventually, maybe, if they wanted to.  But the problem with all the pre-blog writings was that I knew no one would ever read them.  No one would ever really understand.

And until recently, I never even considered myself a writer.

But then, 16 months ago, for reasons unbeknownst to me at the time, I started writing this blog.  I used running and my little Lucy as a way to get it all out.  I therapeutically told the story of me, and Lucy, and how we started running together.  And how we upended our lives and moved to Seattle.

Remember us?  Driving across the country?  Changing
our lives?  Well, Lucy didn't have much say in it.  But
she was totally along for the ride.

And then, when the story was over.  I kept writing.  I kept telling the story.  I keep telling the story.  It's the Never Ending Story (love that movie).  And I have no intention of stopping any time soon.  I hope you're all OK with that.

Because what's great about this blog is that I get to be me.  Utterly and truly me.  And finally, I feel like I get to be understood.  I get to be selfish without feeling guilty.  Because if you like it, great.  Stick around.  Continue to enjoy.  And if you don't, that's ok too.  There are other things out there that will probably be much more to your liking.  No one's forcing you to be here.

But while I'm being selfish, I'm going to go ahead a make a list.  A list of...

Everything I've Gotten from Writing this Thing

1)  Understanding.  Of course this is the top of the list.  Go read the quote.  This is everything.  The best kind of understanding I've gotten is from my family.  Being home for Christmas and having my parents at the Goofy Challenge with me helped me to see that they really seem to understand why it is I do all this running.  And what it entails.  And I love that they understand.  I love that it helps them (and all of you) to understand me just a little bit more.

2)  Guilt-free Lucy bragging.  My puppy is really cute.  She is the cutest ever.  She is the bestest dog in the whole wide world.  I love Lucy.  Lucy.  Lucy.  Lucy.

Here's Lucy 3 months old on the day I got her.  OMG SO CUTE.  Look at
that ginormous ear.

3)  I get all my running talk out.  I like to talk about running.  I like to retell the events of my runs in logical detailed order.  When I do it here, it prevents me from talking incessantly to all of my friends about running.  It allows me to talk about other things with my friends.  So that my friends will stay my friends.  And not say "UGH!! All she does is talk about running!!"  "And Lucy!  I get it, she's cute, enough!"  If you get sick of my running and Lucy talk, you can leave and I'll never know.

4)  I get to write and people will read it.  I love words.  I love playing with them and stringing them together in a logical order that sounds and feels good.  I like creating images and writing in a way that happens to keep people involved in the story.  It's an amazing feeling to have people read your writing and actually enjoy it.  As previously mentioned, I've written a lot in my life but never felt the justification of having people read it.  And enjoy it.  It makes me feel kind of like a writer.

5)  It's a good time filler.  I need my alone time on a regular basis.  I could spend my alone time watching TV or doing some other useless thing.  Instead I'm writing.  And thinking.  And feeling.  And breathing.  And living.

6)  I'm inspiring people.  I must say, this is something I NEVER intended to do at the start of this whole writing experiment.  I wanted to share my experiences, my life, and my inspiration.  I wanted to talk about my running and how it gets me through the day to day of life.  If I ever got discouraged by running or sad about something, I wanted to be able to look back and remember why I kept running.  Why I kept pushing and trying and striving to do more and be better.  I wanted to be able to remember why I should keep doing it.  But it turns out, this inspires other people too.  I've never considered myself an "inspirational" person, but if what I write can help people feel motivated to get up and do more and improve their lives in some way, I am thrilled to have been a part of that.

So, there you go.  In case you're like me and need to know the "why" of things.  There's the why.  There's why Doggedly Running came into existence and continues to grow with my words.  One day I may reach my catharsis.  I may decide, "Ok, that's enough.  I've written it all."  But I highly doubt that day will come along any time in the near future.

So in the mean time, I hope you stick around for the ride.  I oh-so-selfishly want you here with me for all the ups and downs and in betweens.  And maybe..just maybe...you'll glean something from it too.

I'm back in the game...mostly

My official post-Goofy Challenge debut to running was supposed to be yesterday.

Yesterday was our "Kick-Off" for Team in Training summer season.  This is the first official practice of the season where all the teams (hike, cycle, triathlon, marathon) join together to celebrate being on the team and listen to lots of thanks you's from LLS staff members.  Then we all (runners/walkers, some hike and tri people) go for our first run together.

I was especially excited for this particular Kick-Off because I somehow convinced--after they expressed interest of course--two of my co-worker running clubbers, Natalie and Stephanie, to jump on my crazy-wagon.  And by "jump on my crazy-wagon," I mean join Team in Training, fundraise for LLS, and train for a half or full marathon.

Even though we run together most Thursdays, I was super excited to run with these ladies on their first official TNT Saturday run.

The night they signed their lives away...how can you say no when Candy
Cane Lane is involved?

But, alas, life would not have it.  As I woke up Saturday morning to head to Kick-Off, it wasn't running clothes I donned.  My running tights had to wait yet another day on the "dirty but still wearable hook" in my closet (don't judge).  My new pretty green Brooks had to sit sadly by the door again.  Instead, I pulled on some jeans and a pair of worn-out running shoes (I felt I had to at least feel like a runner) and walked out the door.  No watch.  No new snazzy RoadID (birthday present courtesy of Erica).  No hat to keep the rain out of my eyes.  Just clothes.

Why, you may ask?  Why, after a solid, steady, self-enforced 2 week running hiatus did I have to walk slowly for yet another day?  Well, because I had a golf ball in my throat.  A golf ball covered in sand-paper.

Well...not literally...but it felt like that.  It felt like someone had taken my left tonsil out and replaced it with a sand-papery, pain-filled, golf ball.

It started Wednesday morning with a slight soreness in the back of my throat.  No big deal.  I could ignore that.  Then I woke up Thursday morning and it kind of hurt to swallow.  So I downed some ibuprofen, repeated that action every 4 hours throughout the day, and made it to 3:20 to get the kids on the buses.  With the adrenaline rush of the day gone, but still a long evening to look ahead to (we had a meeting at school at until 7:30 that night, and because I commute so far I don't go home between school hours and late meetings), I could feel my tonsil growing, expanding down to touch my tongue.  I went with a couple co-workers to happy hour to fill the time and drank hot tea to soothe the throat.  But it wasn't feeling so good.

So when I got back to school, I talked with my office manager and we decided to go ahead and call a sub for the next day--maybe I should go to a doctor since I found it impossible to swallow without wincing.  

I woke up the next morning, managed to snag myself an 8:45 doctor's appointment, and got in with little waiting.  After answering the typical questions, the doctor asked me to open wide, took a quick look inside and responded with something that amounted to "ew--oh, uh, hmm."  He immediately walked out the door to grab a strep throat test and was blown away when it came back negative.  Then, as he sat thinking, he said "well, the only other thing that can make a throat look like that in your age group is mono."  Mono.  Lovely.

So the nurse took a blood draw, and they shuffled me out the door with a prescription for 10 days worth of Penicillin saying, "you might hear from us tomorrow, but by Monday afternoon at the latest."  Great.  So I have to just wait it out to see if I have mono??  This is fun.

I went straight to the grocery store, picked up 3 different kinds of soup and the fixings for a 4th, 2 pints of Ben and Jerry's, a box of strawberry popsicles, and 2 boxes of Throat Coat tea.  The only things I could fathom swallowing at the time.  I did nothing but cuddle on the couch with my Lucy dog for the rest of the day.

I'm not an ice cream person.  I have never in my life bought a pint of Ben and
Jerry's.  My throat hurt that bad.

I was determined, however, not to miss Kick-Off.  So Saturday morning I went and tried to keep a fairly large bubble around myself, not touch people, and tried to keep my painful, unavoidable coughs heartily covered in my sleeve.  Then, just before the celebrations officially began, I got the call from the doctor's office: NO MONO!!!  Thank you Northgate Sports Medicine Clinic for being so quick with my test results.

I celebrated by waiting around while almost everybody else ran, drinking tea, trying to swallow a cupcake, and air high-fiving people as they came back from the run.  Then I was so exhausted I had to go home and take a long nap.  After that, I made it through the entire 2nd season of New Girl and the first few episodes of the 2nd season of Once Upon a Time before falling asleep again.

Just a few of the summer team crew.  Yep, Movin 92.5 was there to celebrate
with us.  We're that cool.

Yay, they finished their first run of the season! I did not.

This morning, I woke up with a mostly-feeling-better throat.  The antibiotics have kicked in, taken the pain away, and left very nasty metallic taste in my mouth, which I'm crossing my fingers doesn't last for the next 8 days as I finish off the dose.  I'm also hoping that the phlegmy, unpleasant cough I've had for a month is associated with all this and will be kicked to the curb by the end of these metallic mouthed days.

And of course, when I woke up feeling good again, I thought to myself man, I really miss Green Lake.  As sick as I get of Green Lake when I'm training, I hadn't seen it's brackish waters in almost 3 weeks and it seemed to be calling my name.  But I wanted to be good, to rest my sickly body, to be a smart person and take just one more day off.  So I leashed Lucy up and we took a nice, steady walk around the lake.  I plugged in my earphones, finished up my audiobook (if you haven't read Divergent and are a Hunger Games type fan, it's a MUST READ), and tried to fend off thoughts off it would be some much more awesome if I was running right now. 

Instead I tried to think, good job being all smart and stuff and choosing not to run today.  And then, when I was about 3/4 of the way around, patting myself on the back while gritting my teeth with wanting-to-run anxiety, Erica texted me:

I obviously needed A LOT of convincing to say yes.

Two o'clock rolled around, I pulled my running tights off the "dirty but still wearable" hook, threw on my Mickey Marathon shirt, a rain jacket, my new Goofy Challenge hat, and Erica and I took off out the door.

And for the first 2 miles I felt great.  Erica and I hadn't had a real chance to catch up on life since Goofy, so we chatted away as we typically do.  By the 3rd mile I was feeling pretty winded, and there was no way I was running back up the Phinney hill, so we walked it instead.  When I got home, I looked at our splits:

After 2 weeks off, and still a little sick, I'd call this killing it.

There was absolutely no reason for us to run that fast.  I didn't expect to go under 9:00 for my first few runs back.  But when you're feeling good, chatting with a good friend, and enjoying being out there running, it's hard not to go fast.  And it's hard not to smile looking at those numbers.

So, I'm officially calling it:  I'm back in the game.  Seattle Rock N Roll Marathon, sub-4 hour marathon, here I come.

On not running...

...and kind of being OK with it.

Long before running the Goofy Challenge, right around the time that I decided to sign up for TNT Summer Team and train for the Seattle RNR Marathon, I told myself that I was going to force a 2-week running hiatus on myself.  I chose 2 weeks because that is the amount of time between Goofy and the start of summer team (this coming Saturday).  It is also a chunk of time that is short enough that I won't lose a ton of stamina and speed, but long enough to hopefully make me miss running.

When it comes to running, I have one big fear aside from major injury: burnout.  I've heard many a runner talk about hitting the burnout point, and how hard it is to bounce back from.  Suddenly, running isn't quite so fun anymore.  It feels forced and stagnant.  The innate joys of running seem to have slipped away suddenly and a long break is required before they come back.

I fear burnout because I fear what would happen to me if one of the biggest joys of my life were suddenly swept out from under my feet.  This lovely little facebook meme-ish thing (not sure of the technical term of these pictures) pretty much sums up how I feel about running:

Just in case you were still a little unsure after all this time how I feel
about running.

So after Negative November, when running didn't feel very good for a while, I decided that I was in need of a break.  Yes, Determined December was a much happier time.  I felt great and was proud of all that I did that month.  But after logging 152 miles in December (the most mileage I've ever run in a month), I was already looking forward to a break.

So I'm allowing myself a guilt-free, run-free 2 weeks.  I'm not allowing myself to feel bad about it.    I'm enjoying the extra time on my hands.  It's easier to come home from work to thoughts of bundling up and heading out for a 30 minute Lucy walk than putting on less clothes to go out into the freezing temperatures.

The respite has been quite nice, albeit a little confusing for my body and brain.  Nine days into my non-running streak, my body doesn't know how to feel about food.  After stuffing myself for a few days following Goofy, now my tummy doesn't know what, or how much, it wants.  My muscles are starting to feel antsy, ready to move and stretch and work.  My brain has also been doing a little less thinking than usual.  Running is when I work out all the thoughts that bounce around in this busy brain and come to peace with them.  I feel like nothing has been internally resolved lately, so there's all these loose ends flapping around waiting to be tended to.

But me and my brain and my body will make it through this.  Despite the confusion, we are enjoying the break.  And we will all be better off in the end for it.

So, since this post is about not running, let's talk about Lucy instead.  Because I know it's been way too long since you've seen a picture of her.  And I know you miss her.  And in all my non-running free time, I've had time to take a few pictures.  This series is called:

The Essence of Lucyness

1)  Ball of Lucy

I fold up quite nicely.

2)  Tastes like Salt! (photo courtesy of dog-sitters/Uncle Nathan and Aunt Annalise)

It would be kind of awesome if I had Aunt and Uncle
around to hang out with more often....

3)  Innocence Personified

Those baby carrots look awfully tasty.

4)  Lightning Speed

So fast you can't even see me!

5)  Lazy Play

Toys are fun.  Laying down is too.  I can do both.

6)  Upsidedown Life

The world just looks more interesting this way.

7)  Until next time...

Rest up and get some sleep.  Let your tongue hang out.

Because we've got a whole new marathon training season waiting for us.

WDW Goofy Challenge: Slow and Steady Finishes the Race (Part 4)

Well, we left off yesterday at mile 20.

Oh mile 20.

Mile 20 has proven to be the beginning of the end for me in my previous marathons.  In my first marathon, the Rock N Roll Seattle 2010, my body and soul broke down at about mile 18.  By mile 20, it was everything I could do to even fathom crossing the finish line.  In Victoria in 2011, it was at mile 20 that I allowed myself to take my first walking steps.  After that, it was a constant mental battle to keep from walking the rest of the way.  In the RNR San Diego last year, I didn't hit my true wall until about 23, but I felt the first signs of fatigue, the first signs that my body was running out of steam, at 20.

So as Erica and I kept running, kept ticking away our miles, I couldn't help but dread the inevitable.  As we passed miles 18 and 19 and waved goodbye to my parents until the end, in my mind I was thinking it's coming, it's coming.  In no time it will be here and life will REALLY SUCK for about an hour.  And an hour may not seem like very long, but when you're banging your head against a marathon wall, that hour feels like a lifetime.  It feels like all the minutes of the rest of your life will be encompassed in that hour.  It feels like it will never, ever end...like you will be running this marathon for ever and ever until the world comes crashing down--or you do--whatever happens first.



And this feeling, this wall, this "bite me zone," or whatever you want to call it, this is what I was anticipating as Erica and I finally exited ESPN's Wide World of Sports complex and passed by the mile 20 marker.  But as I crossed the line of that marker, my body didn't break down.  My mind felt at ease.  There was no wall waiting on the other side.

I thought to myself, it may not happen now, but it's still coming.  Any minute now you're going to run smack into that wall.  Prepare yourself for it.

Between mile 20 and 21, we doubled back on the same highway that took us into ESPN and saw racers passing us as they entered the ESPN complex.  I kept myself busy in this mile looking for TNT teammates passing on the other side of the road, to no avail.  There was another bathroom stop (not because I was having tummy issues, but because I finally, thankfully, had to go).  I didn't have any trouble standing back up again after sitting in the not so pleasant end-of-the-race port-a-potty.  That wall will still come though, don't let it trick you.

At mile 22, we were heading towards Hollywood Studios.  By this time, I was wracking my brain for a mantra that would get me through the eventual wall.  Every race mantra up until this point had been different.  RNR Seattle: "You can do it."  Victoria: "Pain is temporary."  RNR San Diego: "It's not about me."  For this one, I had decided I'd stick with the mantra "mom and dad are waiting for you."  I knew this would get me to the finish line.

As we entered Hollywood Studios, I suddenly spotted our friendly fireman from the morning of the half:

Remember this guy?  Full turnout gear, air tank and all?

There he was, chugging along in the extreme heat and humidity, still running.  Every runner who passed him gave him words of encouragement.  As I ran by him, I sent my own words his way: "You got this, great job."    And as I anticipated that wall again, I thought to myself, if he can do THAT, I can do THIS.

Running through Hollywood studios was pretty awesome.  We only got a little taste of it, and as with Animal Kingdom, I'd love to go back and see it again when I'm not in the tail end of a marathon.  It was inside Hollywood Studios, as Erica and I passed by the 23rd mile marker, and I still had not found that wall that I started to allow myself to think that, for just a moment, maybe it wasn't coming.  Maybe it wasn't out there waiting for me.  I shook this thought and went back to running.  It is totally coming.

After leaving Hollywood Studios, we made our way towards the Disney Boardwalk.  Running along the Boardwalk was near the water and pretty, and the wood planks were softer than the pavement we'd been running on all day.  But to be honest, I don't remember much about it.  Because it was here, right about at mile 24 that Erica and I spotted Coach Nadine.  I cannot explain the gush of excitement and emotion I felt at seeing her standing there, waiting.  She told us she had gotten there less than 5 minutes before we passed by.

Nadine has been my coach for 3 of my 4 marathons seasons with Team in Training.  I felt like I connected with her the best out of any of my coaches my first season.  On summer team last year, I watched Nadine go through what must surely have been one of the toughest times of her life and still stand with us to support us.  When I think of all the money we're raising as a team, I think of what Nadine had to go through with her dad last summer (and the years before that) and hope that what we are doing will prevent that from happening to people in the future.  This season, Nadine was there with us for almost every Saturday and Tuesday run.  Tom, her dad's name, (along with my grandmother, Tim, Yanni, Darren, Heather, and Maya) was written on the back of my purple shirt.

So when I saw Nadine in the final miles of the biggest challenge I had yet to undertake, when emotions are running at their highest levels, I got goosebumps and couldn't stop smiling.  I know Erica felt it too.  And so did Nadine.  She was wiping away little tears as she tagged on to our pace and started running with us.

Nadine ran with us for about a mile.  And it was here, as I said to Nadine "I haven't hit a wall yet!" that I finally realized, it's not coming.  I'm running a race, and there is no wall.

Nadine left us around mile 25 and it was here that I think it sunk in for both Erica and I that we only had a little over a mile to go before this was all over...just about 10 more minutes.  Erica had been feeling better after taking the Tylenol at the med tent back before going into ESPN, so as we said goodbye to Nadine and entered Epcot, our pace started increasing drastically.

At this increased pace, the numbness that the miles had created in my legs went away a bit and I could feel a little more pain.  It was here that I though to myself, you are not PRing this race.  There is no need to push this.  Slow down, enjoy it, and just get there.  So I asked Erica if we could pull back a bit.

And we did.  We ran through all the countries in Epcot (I don't know which, this part is a little hazy for me).  I remember seeing Aladdin and Jasmine and maybe a few other characters.  Then, at some point, we rounded a corner and I recognized where we were.  We had run this little path in the half the day before.  The finish line was up ahead and just around the corner.

This was AWESOME knowing exactly where the finish line was.  In past marathons (please refer to my RNR San Diego recap), finding the finish line has been torturous.  But I had already run this finish line, so I knew exactly how far I had to go.  It was a huge relief.

We ran around the big Epcot ball, past the choir at mile 26, under a tunnel, and into the finish line chute.  I heard my parents first.  I heard them screaming my name and then searched the crowds to see them waving their signs, yelling as loud as they could.  That was the first big finish smile.  A few paces down from them, I heard our teammate Dorothy yelling.  We passed her before I really heard her, but I whipped my head around in time to see her and let out another smile.  And then it was just a couple hundred yards between us and the finish line.

So Erica and I sprinted.  All out sprinted to that finish line.  We flanked one poor guy ahead of us, passed him with all we had and crossed that finish line in the exact same second with hands up in the air, smiling.

Done and done.

We did it.  I did it.  The Goofy Challenge.  39.3 miles.  2 days.  

NO WALL.  

And to be honest, it wasn't the mileage or the back to back days or anything else I was thinking about.  The first thought I had as I crossed the finish line was I DIDN'T HIT A WALL. Holy crap.  How is that possible?

Erica and I made it through the finish line area, got our Mickey medal, headed over to the Goofy tent to get our Goofy medal, and slowly made our way back to the TNT check-in tent.  I ran into a TNT friend from 2 years ago at bag check.  My parents were there waiting for me with smiles and hugs and my new "I did it" Goofy Challenge shirt at the finish line tent.  And all the while I was thinking, why are my legs still functioning semi-normally?  Why doesn't it hurt more?  Where was that amazingly tough mental battle I had expected to fight today?  Why can't I just shut up and enjoy the fact that I completed the Goofy Challenge!?!

Post-race...so confused but still smiling.

Is it weird to say that I feel like I cheated somehow?  That I feel like I didn't suffer enough?  That there was some sort of magical Disney bubble around me that kept out all the tough stuff?  This is not to say that I didn't struggle.  My legs hurt throughout the entire race.  My hip gave out on me.  I was tired.  But still...I feel like I didn't have to fight nearly as hard as I had in previous marathons.

In yesterday's post, I started of with a list of reasons why this race should have gone horribly wrong.  But now, at the end of the race, I suddenly found myself trying to think of a list of reasons why it didn't go horribly wrong.  Here are some theories:

1) Fueling.  In past marathons, I only took a GU every 45 minutes and carried just Nuun (a sport drink with no calories) in my water belt.  In this marathon I took a GU every 40 minutes, supplemented in between GUs with Sport Beans, and carried a sport drink with calories in my belt.  Additionally, I pick up Powerade (with calories) and water at almost every water stop.

2) I knew my parents were waiting for me.  Having my family there, knowing that they were there to cheer me on and watch me cross the finish line, meant that I had to finish.  It meant that I would finish, and I would finish it for them.

3) I had to be strong, and not just for me. Throughout the entire race, I knew Erica felt like crap.  So I wanted to be strong enough not only to carry myself through the race, but rally as much strength as I could to help her get through the race too.  I needed to be strong for myself and stronger for my running buddy.

4) I was already hurting, so it didn't matter.  One thing I've learned from training runs (especially tough Tuesday hill repeats or speed workouts) is that I usually perform better when I'm already sore.  My theory is: I'm going to hurt no matter what, so may as well just push as hard as I can.  I think this translated to the Goofy marathon.  My legs were tired and began hurting by the second mile.  So at mile 18 or 20 when my legs would typically start aching, they had already been aching the whole time...so it didn't fell like anything changed.  They just kept on hurting.  No big deal.

5) I didn't feel the heat. Was it hot?  Of course.  Was it humid?  Oh yeah.  But during the race, I didn't feel at any point like I was overheating or drowning in humidity.  Erica was throwing water on her head every chance she got and I talked to other teammates who felt that it was unbearably hot during the race.  For whatever unknowable reason, I didn't really feel it.

6) Coughing up phlegm didn't really hinder me.  My cough persisted throughout the race, but I just coughed it all up and kept going.  My throat didn't hurt and my lungs seemed to be functioning normally, so I just kept on going.

7) After hip-numbing with BioFreeze, I couldn't feel it anymore.  Literally.  Couldn't feel my hip.  Not sure how far I would have made it with a seized-up hip without that stuff.
8) We ran slow.  I think this was probably the biggest contributor.  At no point did I feel like I pushed myself beyond the point of discomfort.  Total for the marathon we averaged a little over a 10:00 min/mile pace.  Our average moving pace (minus all the stops) was 9:43.  Slow and steady finishes the race.  Slow and steady finishes the race in a strong way.

Post-Race

After the race, we hung around the finish line for a bit after sending my parents off to enjoy Epcot for the rest of the day.  Then we headed back to the hotel to clean up.  Erica took a nap for the rest of the afternoon.  I joined MacKenzie, Annemarie, and a few other teammates to watch the 2nd half of a very disappointing Seahawks game.

We had our TNT victory party, which was a little disappointing as the hotel kicked us out of the ballroom at 7.  There would be no epic dancing evening like in San Diego.  But Mickey and Minnie did come to visit.

I was actually more excited to see them than I thought I would be.

MacKenzie and I decided to move part of the party to our hotel room.  We drank some champagne, chatted about the race, and watched some of the Golden Globes here and there.  Mom and Dad returned from their Moroccan belly dancing dinner in Epcot and sat with us all in the hotel for a while as well.  I guess it was just what we all needed to finish the day.

And we all slept.  Because we needed it.  And deserved it.

The Aftermath

Our flight took off from Orlando at 3:30 Monday afternoon.  I had brunch with mom and dad and then said goodbye to them as they left an hour earlier for their flight.  We arrived back in Seattle at 8:30 PM.  I went home and crashed into bed so I could wake up and go brag about my weekend to my first graders the next day.

A few things have surprised me in the days after the race.  I wasn't that sore.  I was WAY more sore for my 3 previous marathons and even some of my halves where I pushed myself to my limits.  I felt like my legs were fully back to normal (at least walking-wise) by late Wednesday/early Thursday.  I was also not overly tired this week.  In the weeks leading up to the race I was always tired, no matter how much sleep I got (probably a result of the high mileage training I was in).

Also, I had decided about a month before the race that the 2 weeks after the Goofy Challenge, I would force myself into a self-imposed 2 week hiatus from running.  I'd been running a lot, and I'm about to jump right back into another marathon training season.  I'm worried about a burn-out and I think a forced 2 weeks off will help to get me excited to run again.  

Up until tonight, as I'm writing this, I have been thoroughly enjoying this hiatus.  I had no desire to get out and run this week.  It's been freezing in Seattle and a gloomy, thick fog has been hanging in the air for 2 days straight.  But now it's Friday.  And Saturday mornings are long run mornings...but not tomorrow.  Tomorrow is the only Saturday I have to sleep in before the new season starts next week, and instead of being excited about sleeping in, I'm suddenly thinking that it's going to be really hard not to run tomorrow.

But I won't run tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.  I'm going to rest and revive and rejuvenate my running legs.  I'm going to re-energize and get excited for a new, ever-eventful Team in Training season.

And throughout it all, I'm going to keep asking myself those lingering questions that the marathon always leaves me with: Why did this race turn out this way?  Why did my body react in such a way during this race? Why do I keep feeling the need to go back and do it again?

Why?

I guess I'll just have to find out in the next one.

This one's going to be pretty hard to beat though.