Wedding Recap: Happiness abounds

This weekend, my little brother and my beautiful new little sister tied the knot.  In my eyes (and hopefully theirs too!), it couldn't have been a more perfect weekend.

But let's, just for a moment, clear the air.  Because I know what everyone has been thinking as I discussed attending my brother's wedding over the past months.  I've seen the hesitation, the slight slip of the tongue, the questioning "younger?" look in eyes that have trouble hiding what they're thinking.

And for a moment (just a moment) I almost sunk into the trap.  I didn't write any blog posts last week because I wanted to stay out of my brain.  I was a little worried about what I'd find if I delved too deep.  But that was silly.  I should know myself better than that by now.  Because the moment I walked through my parents' front door and saw my little brother on the day before his wedding day, I felt nothing but joy.

Because here's the thing: why on earth would I allow anyone else's happiness to diminish my own?  I am happy.  I have been happy since I stepped foot in Seattle.  And the fact that my little brother now gets to celebrate a lifetime of happiness with his new wife only serves to increase my own happiness.  I live my life with the knowledge that one day I'll meet a man who will realize just how amazing I am, and he will somehow manage to sweep me off my feet.  Until that happens, I do not intend to spend my days waiting around, feeling sorry for myself.  I have learned how to live my life full of happiness just as I am, and I will never allow seeing others celebrate their own happiness to belittle mine.

But let's stop talking about me.  Because this weekend was not about me.  It was about Nathan and Annalise.  High school sweethearts who have been dating for 10 years.  And after being engaged for 3 years, it's about time we got to officially bring Annalise into our family.

The weekend was amazing for so many reasons.  But what I think I will remember the most is just how amazing my family is.  Of course, my mom and dad, brothers and sister are the best, but so is everyone else. I got to see aunts, uncles, cousins, and other relatives I haven't seen in years.  I saw my grandma, who I haven't seen since I graduated from college 7 years ago.  I got to watch my dad's side of the family interact with my mom's side of the family for the first time.  I got to meet the plethora of new family members that are joining us for the future.  And the best part of it all was, we had a blast.

I haven't seen a single picture from the weekend that didn't include ear to ear smiles.

Me and the groom on the way to the chapel.

Me and my big sis.  Nothing but smiles as my littlest
bro/ best man delivered his best man toast.

Proud ma and pa.

More big smiles with littlest bro and girlfriend doing some sort of sitting
dance that involved lots of hand waving and laughing.

The bride at post-wedding brunch, obviously prepping
for what may happen a couple years down the road...

The rehearsal dinner was full of catching up.  The reception was full of laughs.  And the ceremony was perfect.  My big sister and I played a role in the ceremony as Annalise had asked us to put together a reading.  Which brings me to the point of this post: reprinting it here for everyone to see.

It took us many hours of Sunday morning (or late Sunday evening for my sister in Sweden) FaceTime, many drafts, and many re-writes, to put together the final reading.  

Here it is, unedited:

A good author can say in a short string of words, what it’s taken a lifetime to build.  Today, we've borrowed the words of some childhood favorites to help us share our thoughts.

We’ve watched your love grow throughout the years, and the Velveteen Rabbit describes it best.

     "What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
     "Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
     "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
     "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
     "Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
     "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
     "I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.
     "The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

We’ve seen your relationship mature.  We know you are meant for each other, and A.A Milne explains why in Now We Are Six.

     A soul mate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise. Our soul mate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we've found the right person. Our soul mate is the one who makes life come to life.

Or, as Emily Elizabeth in Nathan’s favorite childhood book, Clifford The Big Red Dog, puts it:

  

     One day I gave Clifford a bath. And I combed his hair and took him to the dog show. I'd like to say Clifford won first prize...but he didn't. I don't care. You can keep all your small dogs. You can keep all your black, white, brown, and spotted dogs. I'll keep Clifford...Wouldn't you?

But we also know that love is compromise, which isn’t always easy.  We think this is best described in one of Annalise’s favorite childhood books, Where the Wild Things Are.

     And on our way... I can show you your kingdom. This is all yours. You're the owner of this world. Everything you see is yours. Oh, except that hole over there, that's Ira's. The tree's yours, but the hole is Ira's. But everything else is yours. Except for that rock over there, that's not yours. That little rock next to the big rock. But everything else in the kingdom... except for that stick. That little stick right there, that's not yours.

Love is also a risk and a leap of faith, as two little leaves show us in the book The Little Yellow Leaf.

     And then, high up on an icy branch, a scarlet flash.
     One more leaf holding tight.
     "You're here?" called the Little Yellow Leaf.
     "I am," said the Little Scarlet Leaf.
     "Like me!" said the Little Yellow Leaf.
     Neither spoke.
     Finally… "Will you?" asked the Little Scarlett Leaf.
     "I will!" said the Little Yellow Leaf.
     And one, two, three, they let go and soared. 

But the best part of it all is when you find the one that you know you can’t live without, like Pooh and Piglet.

     “Pooh” whispered Piglet.
     “Yes, Piglet” replied Pooh.
     “Nothing,” answered Piglet,
     “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

     “If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.”

     “It’s so much more friendly with two.”

     “Pooh, promise me you won’t forget about me, ever. Not even when I am a hundred.”
     Pooh thought for a little.
     “How old shall I be then?”
     “Ninety-nine.”
     Pooh nodded. “I promise,” he said

.
     “Some people care too much, I think it’s called love.”

And after today, we get to watch as you change and grow together.  And, as with The Giving Tree, you can take comfort in knowing that you’ll always be there for each other.

     And after a long time the boy came back again.
     "I am sorry, Boy," said the tree, "but I have nothing left to give you--My apples are gone."
     "My teeth are too weak for apples," said the boy.
     "My branches are gone," said the tree. "You cannot swing on them."
     "I am too old to swing on branches," said the boy.
     "My trunk is gone," said the tree. "You cannot climb."
     "I am too tired to climb," said the boy.
     "I am sorry," sighed the tree.
     "I wish that I could give you something... but I have nothing left. I am an old stump. I am sorry..."
     "I don't need very much now," said the boy, "just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired."
     "Well," said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, "Well, an old stump is a good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest."
     And the boy did.
     And the tree was happy.

Congratulations Nathan and Annalise.  I can't wait to witness all the happiness that the rest of your life together will bring.

Hopefully it'll all be as fun and classy as this post-ceremony
limo bus celebration.

Wonderful Wednesday

Today: a list.

A list of all that is good.  In no particular order.  Just because.

No windy introduction necessary.

1) First grade conversations.  I don't know if they were just on a roll with unintentional humor today, or if I was simply in a more lighthearted mood than I have been lately, allowing me to acknowledge it all.  A random sampling:

First grader #1: "Ms. Kaplan, why isn't it sunny out?!?"
First grader #2: "Because Mother Nature LIES."
The sincere incredulity inherent in the first statement was only overshadowed by the emphatic anger of the second.

"Have you seen this before?": A statement made by the smallest, sweetest, most innocent-looking girl in my class to her best friend as she simultaneously raises her elbow high, holding her first up to her ear, looking cocked to punch said best friend in the face.  While the shock settles in and I prep for a mad dash across the classroom, best friend raises her fist for a bump, and they proceed to blow it up while smiling the biggest smiles I've ever seen on 7 year old princesses.

First grader at pack-up time with exasperation: "Oh, NOW the sun is out."
Ms. Kaplan: "Perfect! Just in time to go home and play outside!"
First grader: "But I'm going to go home and play video games."
Ms. Kaplan: "Or you could go home and go outside and not play video games."
First grader: "But they're so fun.  Ugh, why did they have to invent video games?"
Ms. Kaplan: "Good question."

2) A solo run.  I love running with friends.  Lately, it's all I've been doing and it's been great.  But sometimes I forget how amazingly therapeutic it can be to pound it out on a solo run.  Especially when you get home and see these mile splits:

See those pretty green numbers?  Perfect.  Negative.  Splits.

3)  Worry-free (and $$ free) lunch.  It is Teacher Appreciation Week.  At my school, PTA provides lunch for all staff all week long.  It's crazy how great it is to not have to worry about packing a lunch every morning.

4)  More sunshine.  Sunshine has become the cowbell of my life.  More cowbell please.

5)  The collective sigh over spilled milk.  A poor unfortunate kindergartner, back from a field trip, clutching a small carton of chocolate milk while standing outside amidst a crowd of teachers waiting for the buses to take off at the end of the day, drops the milk carton and it sprays in an arc across the sidewalk.  Every adult standing nearby collectively sighs, "Awwwww..." and then smiles as the child looks up, lost and forlorn.

6)  Amazing friends.  Who show their support in incredible ways.

7)  A perfectly ripe avocado.  Pure deliciousness.  For the salad I simply can't get enough of lately.

Kale, grapefruit, avocado, sunflower seeds, and a
homemade citrus/olive oil dressing.  Drool.

8)  Multitasking.  I am an amazing multitasker between the hours of 7:30 AM and 4 PM Monday through Friday.  But I typically use up all my multitasking mojo during those times.  Today, I was able to multitask at home, long after my 4 PM cutoff.

Foam rolling and taking a bath.  At the same time.

Eight good things on a pretty average day.

Even if nothing fantastic or outstanding happens, every day has something good to give.  You just have to keep your eyes open wide enough to find it.

Not a moment wasted

All that complaining about May sneaking up on me last week?  I take it back.  Bring it on.  With the week I just had, I all of a sudden find myself counting down the days to this marathon and summer vacation.  It suddenly can't come soon enough.  

But, if there's one thing I've learned from being on a team like Team in Training, it's that you shouldn't waste a minute of life waiting for something else to happen.  Not even one.  Every week I hear stories of people whose lives were cut too short or stories of those who survived and now live their lives with a new amount of zeal and appreciation.  Each story reminds me that life is fragile and can change in an instant.  So I try my best to live each moment now as if the next one might not be coming.

And this past weekend, I spent every conceivable minute possible doing exactly what I wanted to be doing.

Soaking up the sun.

This newly bloomed patch of freckles (or "sun kisses" as I like to think of
them) is evidence of the properly sun-screened exposure.  While my father
carries his freckles year-round, mine only turn up when touched by the sun.

As I've mentioned before, everything about sunshine in Seattle makes me smile.  And this weekend was no exception.

It started Friday night with a long Lucy walk followed by some solo carb-loading for my Saturday long run and an early bedtime.  I am super exciting on Fridays.

Nothing but blue skies for our Friday evening walk through Phinney Ridge.

Saturday morning, I woke up bright and early to take on a 160 minute long run with Team.  I slathered on the sunscreen, donned my purple passion t-shirt and capris (no shorts for me on long runs no matter how hot...ouch), readied my fuel belt, and headed to Matthew's Beach to meet the Team.  The weather couldn't have been more perfect for this run.  Cool in the shade, almost a little too hot in the sun, and a nice little breeze here and there.

After last week's resolution to reclaim my Queen of Negative Splits crown, I wanted to start this run off slow and easy.  Luckily, two of my faster-paced teammates were on board for this slower-paced start.  Unfortunately, my GPS watch failed to connect to satellites at the beginning of the run, so my split times were based only on the shoe pod, which is nowhere near reliable (it cut my actual distance by over a mile and who knows what it did to my pace).  But, I think we kept pretty close to a 9 min pace or just under for the first half of the run.

The second half of the run, where in past weeks I've felt like absolute crap and have gotten slower every mile, was just what I wanted this week.  I remembered to GU at all the times I wanted to, took some sport beans in between, and stopped at all the Team water stops to hydrate and refill my fuel belt.  By the time we hit our last turnaround, with about 4 miles to go, I was feeling pretty great.  Yes, my legs had the typical long run lead feeling and didn't exactly move very easily anymore, but I felt I had energy to spare.  I unintentionally picked up my pace a little (perhaps pushing my running buddies a little faster than they wanted to go, sorry!) and powered through the final miles, trying my best to ignore my aching legs.  I felt like I accomplished some great mental training for race day--the heart was in it, even though the muscles were more than ready to be done.

And in the end, we got back about 2 and a half minutes early.  So you know what that means: negative splits!  Finishing strong!  Best long run yet this season.  Confidence officially boosted.

While my watch wanted to tell me I only did 16 miles, my running buddies registered a more accurate 17+ miles.  With this great run and my great-feeling interval run from last Tuesday, I'm starting to feel a little more like a marathoner again.

After the run, we all jumped into Lake Washington up to our hips for an "ice bath."  Ice baths are MUCH more enjoyable with friends.  We should have taken a picture of the 10 of us in the water.  Oh well, next time.

And then, since the sun was shining and the weather was warm, we all hung out on the beach with our potluck breakfast, relaxing in the grass, resting our tired legs for an hour and a half.  Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.

When I got home, I spent just enough time indoors to shower off all the salt that coated my face, arms and legs, get cleaned up, and grab Lucy.  We dropped off my car for a much needed oil change, and then I proceeded to walk Lucy around the hills of Queen Anne for an hour while we waited.  It started off ok, but by the end, my legs were screaming at me.  They wanted to be done for the day.

But no, not a minute of sunshine to waste.  In Seattle, despite what the weatherman may say, the sunshine can disappear at any moment.  And then who knows when it'll come back.  There's a reason why we are a city full of sun-worshipers who appreciate every moment it's around.

The rest of the day consisted of margaritas on the deck of the delicious Mexican place down the block from me, more Mexican beer at a block party in Green Lake, and then an entertaining evening of watching a very theatrical and enthusiastic San Diego based rugby team sing karaoke at a bar in Queen Anne.

By the time I crashed into my bed, I couldn't keep my eyes open for more than a minute.

I gloriously slept in until 9:30 Sunday morning (I know, I definitely wasted some sunshine time there, but I don't consider my Sunday morning sleep-ins to be a waste of time).  After rolling out of bed, I took Lucy out for another long walk in the sun before heading out to Kirkland for our second Ragnar team meeting.  While we sat outside at our potluck lunch, discussing the logistics of the weekend, I somehow managed to claim the longest, most difficult leg of the race (runner #7, 21.9 miles, the last 2 legs of which are both 8+ miles and considered "very hard" according to Ragnar standards).  As MacKenzie put it, I "like a challenge."  We'll see how my legs like the challenge less than a month after my marathon.  I am secretly excited though.

From the meeting in Kirkland, I headed home to pick up Lucy and a bag of ice, and headed out to West Seattle to meet HLM Sierra in the park in front of her apartment on Beach Drive.

Not a bad view.

I spent the next 3 hours enjoying the last dregs of weekend sun with Sierra, Lucy, and Bob cat.  That's right.  Bob cat.  If you were walking/running/rollerblading/cycling along Beach Drive at any time yesterday between the hours of 4 and 7, you couldn't have missed us.  We were the two girls in sundresses stretched out on a blanket with a large dog and matching cat on a leash, a small cooler of tasty drinks, some cheesy snacks, 2 very thick books, and travel Scrabble perched between us.  We are nerds.  I am 100% ok with that.

Sierra = crazy cat lady in the park.  The looks on the faces of passersby were
priceless.

Lucy, Queen of the Sunshine, protecting us from any fly that dared come near.

Sierra and I are awesome Scrabblers.  Seriously.

I reluctantly dragged myself home at 7 to clean up from the day and begin mentally prepping for Monday.  To say it was hard to go back today would be an understatement.  The sun kept shining all day, the classroom got it's summertime afternoon stuffy heat, and after driving home from work this afternoon, my car thermometer registered this crazy number:

In Seattle.  In the beginning of May.  I swear it's not photo-shopped.

This wonderful weekend gave me a taste of what summer could be.  I relished every conceivable moment of it.  And now, my brain seems suddenly switched into summer preparedness mode.  Time to get the bike tuned up.  Time to air out the swim suits.  Time to pull out the running shorts.

But, until then, I'm not going to waste any of the time that is here now.  There is more sun to be celebrated this week.  And when the rains come again, I'll listen to the pitter patter on my window and remember that rain has a beauty of its own too.

Weekends like this remind me that every inch of every day should be a celebration of all that is good right now.  I'm going to try my best not to waste a single minute.

A much needed boost

A couple of days ago (or maybe it was weeks or even months...who knows with the speed by which time has been passing lately), I saw quote/meme/picture/whatever-the-techie-term-is inspirational thing on Facebook.  While thinking through this post today, I fully intended to go find it and post it here, but after a much too lengthy fruitless search in the never-ending depths of my newsfeed and even a half-hearted Google search, I turned up empty-handed.  Here is the closest thing I found:

Definitely on the cheesy side, but the theme is on par.

The quote I was vaguely remembering went something like this: "Disappointments are just the beginning of the unforeseen better/new/improved/full-of-opportunity/beautiful/open-doored path before you."  In case you can't tell, I totally just made that up.  But I think it sounds Facebook quotish enough (that's is a word in my dictionary, Mr. Spell Check).

By the way, Mr. Spell Check, "newsfeed," "hearted," and "doored" are also words in the dictionary of Tessa.  You can take your squiggly red lines and find someone else to harass.

I digress.  Let's get to the point here.

I've had a few disappointments lately.  Some larger than others, but disappointments nonetheless.  So when a disappointment, no matter how small, does flip itself into a positive, I can't help but smile and say, "Thanks, Universe."  Not to sound pompous, but in the balance of karma, I feel like I should have a few good things coming my way in the future.  Sometimes it's good to see them come to fruition, no matter how small.

So, let's define my negative/positive payoff this week.

The disappointment:  I've been trying, despite a packed schedule, to fit in Monday boot camps wherever I can.  For the last couple months, I've been fairly unsuccessful.  I know that strengthening is really important for running, and I've always failed at it, so I wanted to do as much as I could this time around.  I was super excited on Monday because it was going to be the first time I'd been able to make two weeks in a row of boot camp since mid-February (not exaggerating, OCD-style training log shows proof).  I packed my boot camp bag and brought it to school with me ready for 40 after-school minutes of excruciating but wonderful pain.  

So you can imagine my disappointment when a mid-afternoon staff email when out with the unfortunate subject line: "boot camp cancelled."  Boo.  Hiss.  Universe, you suck.

I took my sadface home, gave Lucy a bonus 45 minute walk, and wrote an "I suck at marathon training" blog post.

At least somebody got some enjoyment out of the day.

The unforeseen better/new/improved/full-of-opportunity/beautiful/open-doored path before me: I wasn't feeling very excited about Tuesday's Team run.  Tuesday Team practices are our "workout" runs.  We do things like hill repeats, tempos, and intervals.  Whether I've been sore from Monday boot camp, or just plain exhausted from my over-booked weekends, I've felt tired on almost every Tuesday run this season.  I have no desire to be the fastest (that's a lie) or the best (also a lie), but I'd at least appreciate a run where I feel on top of the world.  Is that too much to ask, Universe?

Apparently not.  Because it totally happened.

We did intervals on Tuesday.  The interval run consisted of a 10 minute warm up, 30 minutes of 5 minute intervals (3 mins "on" and 2 mins "off"), and then a 10 minute cool down.  I tried to start slow, keeping in mind my own advice and desire to get back to my self-designated Negative Split Queen status.  It paid off:

Not showing warm up and cool down, the interval splits.
If you try to tell me 6:54 is slower than 6:52, I will strangle
you and then point out the 2 second difference in the time
and then the mileage of the split itself.  Dead on the same.

And then Nike+ congratulated me by showing me this when I got home and plugged in the watch:

Read those little red banners at the top.  I've been logging
my runs to this website for a year and a half.  Those little
guys mean fastest EVER.

Joshua Radin is currently singing to soundtrack of my life from my computer speakers as I write:

"It's a brand new day

The sun is shining

It's brand new day

For the first time, in such a long long time

I know, I'll be ok."

I could be being over-dramatic here, but I'm taking the win and running with it (ha, pun).  At least for a little while.  I won't say I've re-earned my Queen of Negative Splits title, but I could be on my way.  We'll see after my 17 miles this coming weekend.

And now, because I am a blogger and I love to over-analyze things, let's talk about all the things that could have contributed to this amazing run:

1)  No boot camp.  My legs weren't sore.  My body wasn't tired.  I was well rested, despite the marathon nightmare I'd had the evening before.  This is pretty much the main reason why I think I killed this run.  See the whole turning a negative into a positive thing?  It works.

2)  A day at the zoo.  Tuesday was first grade field trip day.  I got to spends hours out in the sun looking at cute animals at my favorite zoo, catching up with a co-worker that I unfortunately don't get to spend much "outside of work" time with anymore.  Sunshine, animals, and good friends are all good for the soul.

3)  A running buddy.  The last couple Tuesdays, after a warm-up with some running friends, I usually am left in the dust by and/or speed ahead of everyone else for the workout portion of the run.  Pushing through hill reps, tempos, or intervals are no fun on your own.  Erica and I have always been really good at keeping each other going through these tough runs.  But, as I may have mentioned just a few times, Erica is coaching.  And therefore not running with me.  But yesterday, new fast runner friend James was feeling a little tired and stuck with me.  Even through these runs, where "conversation" isn't quite physically possible, it's still nice to have someone at your side.  For me, just having someone there makes a big difference.

4)  Any number of other factors.  Hydration.  Food.  Sleep.  Karma.  Life convergences that I am completely unaware of.

The major lesson I'm taking away from all of this?  Besides the whole turning a negative into a positive thing, I think I'm going to forgo boot camp at least until taper time.  My legs loved the rest day.  If by simply giving them a day of rest they will continue to perform as they did yesterday, I think I can make the sacrifice.

Now I'm ready to ride this high into the weekend.  I'm crossing my fingers for a long run of epic proportions.  Or maybe just one I feel good on and earn myself some negative split bonus points.  Let's not set the expectations too high here.

Let's do this, Universe.

I want to beat all the numbers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Marathon Reality Zone

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

"I'm confused."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________________

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

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

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

I think we need some space

I'm tired of the internet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's a good listener.

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

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

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

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

I rarely reject my baby blues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(not really) THE END.