I believe in the good

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We will keep running.  Have no doubt in that.

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

My next run is for you.

Pleasure in the pain

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

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

Let's just call it what it is.

I'm a wimp.

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

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

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

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

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

Like I said, I'm a wimp.

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

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

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

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

Metaphorical speed mountain, you don't scare me.

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

I killed it.

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

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

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

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

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

Watch it. Funny stuff.

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

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

It's ok to lose control

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

Eleanor Roosevelt was such a wise woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Running.

Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I fail at doing nothing

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

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

A beautiful day, for humans and canines alike.

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

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

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

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

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

I put a bird on it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Springtime color

Springtime is my favorite.

For so many reasons.

While I love winter and the cold air and bundling up and cozy, homey days, there is something missing in wintertime.  There is an incredibly unfortunate lack of color.  The sky is gray.  The trees have been stripped of all brightness.  The grass turns brown.  Everything seems subdued and stagnant.

But when the first days of spring arrive and you begin to feel just a touch of warmth, suddenly the world is filled with color.  And it is the stark contrast of the lack of winter color held next to the brightness of spring that makes it all the more brilliant.  I feel as though I am overwhelmed by color.  Surrounded by life and growth and newness.  Spring, quite simply, makes me happy.

Spring is when the world starts growing again.  From plants to people, life seems to come alive and click back into place in springtime.  Watching things grow is at the top of the list of things I enjoy.  When things are growing, possibilities seem endless.  Life seems unstoppable.  Doors are swung wide open, shedding light on new paths and into long-forgotten corners.  Anything can happen in the springtime.

Springtime in first grade is one of the most amazing times of the year.  In April, all those little ones who have seemed to struggle to grow up until this point suddenly begin to sprout and bloom.  They jump reading levels at speeds that seemed unattainable.  Math starts to really make sense.  And all those little skills and strategies that you've been teaching all year suddenly seem to click into place.  Being a first grade teacher in the springtime always reminds me exactly why I chose the job I did, and why I love it so much.

For the past few days in Seattle, we've been experiencing an uncommonly early, warm, clear spring.  This weather is supposed to last at least until Thursday, which I am grateful for seeing as I am now on spring break.  I know that we will probably pay dearly for these days with long months of rainy 50 degree weather in April and May, so I am soaking in every ounce of brightness I can right now.

I took Lucy for a walk after work on Friday, and couldn't help but smile at each and every pop of color.  I simply had to document it all with pictures while Lucy sniffed away at new spring smells in the grass.  The colors of spring are dynamic and varied and beautiful.

Color fills the trees:

It grows from weeds:

Hangs in bushes:

And pops from flowers in all shapes and sizes:

Even the whites seem to burst with color:

And of course the blue brilliance of the sky is unbeatable.

Color is filling up life right now.  Up until this week, I had been consumed by the dullness of lackluster, cold, dreary days.  But springtime has arrived and life is in full color.  The world is growing and changing outside.  And, while it lasts, I'm going to spend every moment I can outside.  And when I can't be out in it, I'm going to swing my door wide, open all the windows, and try to absorb the energy and newness that life is throwing my way.

Mercer Island Half Marathon: There are no limits

I'm all raced out.  I'm officially at the end of my own little game of March Madness that I've been playing.  It started 3 weekends ago with the Hot Chocolate 15K, continued last weekend with the St. Patty's Day Dash, and ended today with the Mercer Island Half Marathon.

And if there's a theme to all of these runs, it's that there are no limits to what my body will do if I ask it.  I've already told you about the Hot Chocolate 15K and the shenanigans of the St. Patty's Day Dash.  Those two races taught me that even when I beat up my body, treat it unkindly, dehydrate it, and deprive it of sleep, it will still perform better than I could have expected.  But those races were "just for fun."  They had no real bearing on the mental account book I keep of my running progress (even though I'm still blown away by my St. Patty's Day Dash average pace).

Today's race, however, really counted in my books.  Today I wanted to do well.  I had goals (a PR of sub 1:50).  There was no joking around with this run.  The Mercer Island Half is not easy.  It is all up and down hills with very few flats.  The roads are all canted, which wreaks havoc on knees and hips.

So I prepared as I normally do before a serious race.  I drank a lot of water on Saturday (and nothing else). I ate a salad, a massive bowl of pasta, and bread for dinner.  I was in bed by 9:30 and asleep by 9:45.  I woke up nice and early to eat my almond butter and banana toast and have time to properly prep my race supplies.  By the time Erica came to pick me up, I was ready to take on this race.

I oddly did not feel nervous before this race.  Typically, before any half or full, I get butterflies in my stomach the morning of the race.  I can't help but think about all the pain I'll be facing in just an hour or two.  I can't help but wonder how strong my mental faculties will be when the pain hits.  I usually turn over and over thoughts in my head of which voice will reign supreme during the race--the voice that says "this sucks, I'm done," or the voice that says "you can do it, just push on through."  Maybe it was the fact that I'd already been at 2 race starts in the past few weeks (even if they weren't nerve-inducing starts).  Maybe it was the idea that I have the Goofy Challenge, the Seattle Half in November, and the Nike Women's Half Marathon all on my list of recent successful activities.  Maybe by the 9th half marathon you've run you simply don't get nervous anymore.

Whatever the reason, I was wary of the lack of nerves.  I like nerves.  Nerves mean I'm not getting cocky and over confident.  Nerves mean I'm still feeling the way normal people feel.  Nerves mean life and reality and fear, a little of which is good for all of us.

But before I had any real time to get nervous about not being nervous, we were at the race start ready to go.

Me and my racing ladies.   Ready to take on another.

We started off at a pace that we all considered way too fast.  But as we kept running, and passing other runners, despite Erica and I's constant self-reminders to slow down, we kept speeding up.  We all had dreadful fears of running out of steam and crashing when we hit the final big hill at mile 11.5, but couldn't quite seem to back off the pace.  So we went full steam ahead and ticked off the first few miles quite quickly.

I think Mercer Island is probably one of the most unique courses I've seen.  It reminds me of the portion of the Amica Seattle Half that goes through tree-lined winding Interlaken, except the whole course is like that.  Lots of curves and bends and little inclines.  You can never see more than a quarter mile of the course ahead of you as you wind through the street the encircles the island.  I saw some great things about this and some not so great things.  Great being that you couldn't see what was coming or how far you had to go.  The miles ticked away quickly when you came around a bend and realized that the next mile marker was all of a sudden right there.

The down side to this winding, blind course was that when you hit a hill, you had no idea how big it was.  You couldn't see the top and therefore had no way of knowing how to gauge how much effort could be expended.  And remember, there were lots of hills.  In fact, from the first mile until about mile 10, it felt like all we were doing was going uphill.  We kept going up and up and up with no downs.  And being that this was a loop course that started and finished in the same place, I didn't quite see how this was possible.  Nonetheless, we kept going up and kept our pace up too.

We had looked at the elevation map on the bus on the way to the race, so I knew where the big hills were (mile 5, miles 8.5-9.5, and then the real doozy from mile 11.5-12.5).  When we hit the mile 5 hill, it seemed like no big deal.  In fact none of the hills really seemed like a "big deal" compared to the Nike hills in San Francisco, the steep portions of Amica Seattle, or even the hills at the end of the Whidbey Island Half.  These were mild rolling hills, which didn't seem so bad when you were on them, but they all added up at the end.  My legs started feeling tired around mile 9.  Things started tensing up and my hips and knees started hurting.  

After getting to about mile 10, we finally started seeing some downhills.  I tried to use these downhills to recover my breathing, shorten my stride again, and regain my mental focus for the mile 11.5 hill.  I felt the whispers of my negative voice enter the back of my brain, but I tried my best to push them back, to stay focused on the mile I was on, and to pull strength from Erica and Ana, who were right there with me.  

And mostly, that worked.  I recovered in time to tackle the mile 11.5 hill.  This actually was a big one.  By the time I got to the top, I was out of breath again and losing steam.  Erica and Ana seemed to be picking up some energy that I didn't have, so I focused on pushing through and staying with them.  When I hit mile 12, I told myself I could make it a mile more.  One mile, no big deal.  I looked at my watch and realized that I was going to make that PR I was looking for, which kept me moving.  There were still two more little, steep hills between me and the finish though.

At the bottom of the second to last hill, all I wanted was to be done.  My legs had very little left in them and felt like lead.  My muscles seemed done.  Somehow I dug deep and found enough energy to get up that hill.  But at the top, I still had a half mile to go and an uphill finish.  A glance at my watch told me I had time for a mini walk break.

But I didn't let myself.  Because suddenly I remembered my team.  And I remembered that there are people who can't run.  I thought of Yanni, one of my teammates whose cancer recently relapsed, who is experiencing some horrendous side effects of a new drug she's on, but yesterday at practice she ran 14 miles.  She pushed through something I can't even imagine.  So for Yanni, who I watched push through Goofy training, and the Goofy Challenge, and now another marathon season, for her I pushed through the last half mile.  It may not be much, but it was all I had to give.

I hit the last short hill and gave every little ounce of energy I had left in my body.  I had nothing left for a sprint to the end.  I just made it there.  And my official finish time: 1:48:32.  I broke 1:50.  I shaved 4 minutes off my PR time from the Seattle half in November.  

The watch stats.  Paces definitely all over the place, but staying
between 7:55 and 8:25.  8:11 average overall.  Seeing this makes me
wonder what I really could have done last week at the Dash.

At the end, I realized why I didn't feel very nervous at the start.  It's because I finally realized that there are no limits to what my body can do.  There are only limits to what my mind will let it do.  At 12.5 when I thought I was done, I recharged my mind, found the motivation I needed to keep going, and simply did it.  If my mind tells it to, my body will find the energy it needs to keep moving.  It is my brain that needs the training.

But my brain has come a long way.  When I look back at the Seattle half 2 Novembers ago, or the San Diego Marathon last June, I realize now that the thing that disappointed me in those races wasn't my body's performance, it was my mind's.  I felt like I had given up.  In my last couple races, my mind has grown stronger because I've gained confidence in my body and myself.  I've trained the voice that says "Yes, you can" to be the loudest voice in my head.  I've trained it to drown out the other voices.

If you told me 2 years ago that I'd be running a 1:48 half today, I would have told you that you were absolutely insanely crazy.  I never in a million years thought that I would make it here.  And that from here, I would think that I could still go further.  Because I believe in myself and what I am capable of.  I believe that there are no limits except in my own mind.

A lesson I think we are all learning.  We all PR'd today.  It was a pretty
amazing race.

Now, after all this March Madness, both my body and my brain are tired.  In fact, I kind of feel like this:

No words are necessary.

I just have to make it one more week and then I get to have my Spring Break.  And for Spring Break, I have absolutely no plans.  I will run a little, relax a little, and accomplish very little.  I think my body and my brain deserve at least that.

In the meantime, I'll keeping pushing on.  Because I know I can.

St. Patty's Day Dash and other sunshiny activities

It's March in Seattle.  The time of year when the weather develops it's own bipolar personality.  Today I went on a run around Green Lake with coworker/teammate Stephanie and Lucy (who seemed SO excited to get out the door, that I just couldn't leave her behind even though I knew she'd hate me 10 minutes into the run).

We started the run in the warm sunshine.  A couple minutes later, we felt a few sprinkles.  By the time we made it a quarter of the way around the lake, it was legitimately raining.  Then, by about halfway around, the skies had darkened to an evil grey and it began hailing on us.  My poor, hatless forehead (because silly me thought I didn't need one on this run) got pelted with little balls of ice painfully enough that we had to duck under the cover of some big trees.  Twice.  Of course, if I had actually worn the hat, none of this would have happened (thus is Seattle).  Then, by the time we made it all the way around the lake, the sun was back out and shining warmly.  As if we hadn't just had the most uncomfortable, cold, horrible run ever.

But sometimes this bipolar, unpredictable personality also works to my advantage.  Like this past weekend.  My plans included: an elementary school track meet, a Sounders game, and the St. Patty's Day Dash.  All of which take place outside.  And the forecast for the entire weekend: 90% chance of rain.  Cold.  Miserable.  Last year on this oh-so-eventful weekend, it even snowed.  And not the good kind of snow.  The wet, heavy, drippy snow that melts as soon as it hits the ground.

But the actual weather that Seattle chose to deliver for us for the weekend?  Beautiful, sunny, warm-ish, and fantastic.  Except for the track meet, so let's start there.

Well actually, let's start before that.  Because running is the most important thing, right?  I started off my Saturday by meeting Stephanie for a 7 AM run, since I'd be missing my TNT practice for the track meet.  We took off from my place, and by the time we made it halfway through the run, the gray, dull light of the sky and the weird time of day to be running had my internal time clock all out of whack.  I had to remind myself that it was 7:45 AM, not 4:45 PM, and I had a long, busy day ahead of me.

Now, the track meet.  I think that a K-2 track meet has to be one of the most entertaining sights I've seen.  I first experienced it a couple years ago when I went down to "spectate" because I had a number of kids on the track team and wanted to be a good, supportive teacher.  A K-2 elementary school track meet consists of 3 events: the 100 meter dash, long jump, and softball throw.  Nothing is measured, timed, or recorded.  It's all about enjoying being out there and active for these little ones.

Each event is beyond entertaining to watch.  In the 100 meter dash, you have the ones who sprint with all their little might to the finish line.  And then there are the ones that jog along, looking left and right, wondering why everyone is cheering for them to "go! go! go!"  In the softball throw, there seem to be two extremes as well.  The ones who lob the ball with every ounce of muscle they have, and then those that give it a lazy toss and walk away.  But the long jump is absolutely the best to watch.  They swing their arms, gather their energy, and focus.  And then with two feet ready to launch, they do a short little bunny hop.  It's so incredibly anticlimactic that you can't help but giggle.  For a little while I may have even forgotten that the weather was grey, blustery, cold, and beginning to rain by the time we left the field around noon.

From the track meet, I headed home to walk Lucy and get geared up for the Sounders game against the Portland Timbers.  This is a huge rivalry for Seattle, so I was excited, but also anticipating horrible weather with no cover at Century Link Field (AKA the Clink).  I prepared myself for the absolute worst.  I wore my winter coat with the rain jacket liner.  I put on rain boots.  I brought a poncho.  I brought gloves and a winter knit hat (handmade by my soon-to-be sister-in-law!).  But what did Seattle give us?  Sunshine.

Beautiful sunshine.

It was still very windy and chilly, but we survived it with that sunshine.

Those smiles were BEFORE the Timbers tied up the game in the 90th minute.

Then, after an appropriate amount of time out and about after the game, I headed home to get about 5 or so hours of sleep before the St. Patty's Day Dash.

I love the St. Patty's Day Dash.  Despite the typically rainy Seattle weather I've experienced at this race in the past, I've never been let down.  The beer garden after the run beats any other race day beer garden I've experienced.  But I guess we should talk about the actual race first.  I met this lovely group of misfit runners before the race start:

Teammate Alana, Erica, me, Ironman/Coach Joe, and Ironman/Coach Jason.
Love this picture.  Perfect excuse to wear my green sparkle skirt again.

We pushed our way to the front of the race start and took off right on time.  I can't say that I was feeling at the top of my game after the Sounders game the night before, but I had tried to hydrate and eat when I woke up in the morning.  I didn't really expect much from this race besides just getting through it then heading straight to the beer garden to celebrate all that is good about Irishness.

The course is basically the same as the Hot Chocolate Run two weeks before, just shorter.  It starts at Seattle Center, heads straight up 99 to the Aurora bridge, then turns around and comes back down.  Not super pretty or exciting.  But at least the second half is all downhill.  And there are lots of costumes and funnily dressed people to look at and distract yourself.  Erica, Alana, and I stuck together the whole way, criticizing and complimenting wardrobe choices, and yelling at running friends we saw along the way.

When we crossed the finish line in front of the EMP, we checked our watches and were all sincerely surprised by what we had just done.

My Nike+ watch kindly told me that this run included the fastest 5K, 1K,
and mile I'd logged to date.

The overall average pace for the entire race was 7:55 min/mile.  I don't think I've ever logged a run with an average pace under 8:00.  I'll definitely take this as a win with pride, especially considering that I wasn't feeling in top form and hadn't had a ton of sleep.  With what happened here and at the Hot Chocolate Run, maybe I should just go to a Sounders game before every race I do.  It seems to work for me.

I won't be testing that theory before this weekend's Mercer Island Half Marathon though.  I've got lofty hopes for that one.

After the feel-good finish, we rushed to grab our free shirt from the Brooks tent (a nice little leprechaun-inspired tech tee), grab our checked bags, and get to the beer garden.  Highlights of the beer garden include:
1)  Green beer, made green by a smart former teammate who toted food coloring to the race.
2)  Lots of TNT friends.
3)  Epic beer cup towers.
4)  Epic beer cup towers craftily and satisfyingly destroyed by elastic, rubber band-like bracelets (Alana gets all credit for that one).
5)  Coach Shelby dancing.
6)  The most rousing game of mini-beach ball volleyball I've ever seen.
7)  And, of course, the devil:

Look at his bib number!  And his shirt is pretty
awesome too.

And look at the sunshine in the window.  The day turned out to be gorgeous.

So, I guess I can't really complain about today's sunshiny, rainy, hailstorm of a run.  Because I had a great weekend.  And even if the fabulousness of the weekend can't really be attributed to the weather, I'm still grateful for the sunshine.  Because every day is unpredictable.  So I'm going to do my best to enjoy what I've got while I've got it.  I'll worry about what's coming next when it gets here.