Thoughts From a Comically Slow Runner

I ran almost 5 miles today. Alone. This is a big deal. The friend I've been running with twice a week let me know she couldn't make it and while I had more than 24 hours to work through it, I am not very good about running by myself. She was sweet enough to text me to say that she figured I'd go farther without her along to hold me back. She's too nice for her own good. I know well enough that she was running farther (and probably faster) before I totally imposed myself into her solitary runs. So if anyone's holding anyone back, it wouldn't be her. Just sayin'. At any rate, since she challenged me (ok, so she didn't, but I had to take it that way or my bed would have won this morning), I did run farther than we had been running, almost 2 miles longer. I also forgot how long the new route I chose to take was, so that's a bit to blame for the extra distance too. Being challenged and being incapable of remembering simple distances.  Makes you really want to run with me sometime, doesn't it?  Poky slow airhead who is oddly competitive.

First, I looked at the weather when we normally run and burrowed back into my warm bed with the dogs. It was chilly and windy. No need to run in that. It would surely be warmer and less blowy later. Nope. By 11:00 I had lost all hope so I pushed myself out the door anyway. Less than 5 minutes into my run I passed a neighbor. And lest you think I actually run faster than anyone on earth, let me reassure you that when I say passed, I mean I was running one direction and she was running the other. I had on a long sleeved t-shirt (non-wicking) and shorts. She had on a knitted toboggan, a down vest, long sleeved shirt, gloves, and pants. She probably thought I was crazy. I thought she was crazy. If I tried to run in all of that with temps even 1 degree above freezing, I'd probably spontaneously combust or have the most curious case of heat stroke ever. As it was, I was soaking wet with sweat and had discovered entirely new orifices out of which to leak water by the end of my run. Fat girl obviously has her own personal internal combustion engine.

As I neared the one mile mark, I was still debating with myself which route I intended to run. It was at that point that some really inspirational music came on the iPod and I decided I could in fact run more than 3 miles. Wondering what sort of music might possibly make someone decide to run longer? Well, country music, then acoustic stuff, and then the Disney star stuff from 7 or 8 years ago that my daughter once loved. Clearly I was in an hallucinatory state when I decided this. Plus I need better music to run to. I haven't run this other route in a good seven years. Lots of things had changed since then. Not least of which is that the road somehow lengthened considerably while I was busy making a permanent indent in my couch cushions.

But I could do it, right? Nope. I hit the turn around point and my brain won the battle. Actually my stomach won the battle. It threatened to cast up the protein bar I had for breakfast. Nothing pretty about belching up protein bar while you run. It's also not pretty to belch up protein bar while you walk but at least the rest of you doesn't hurt so much. So I walked a couple of minutes. When I thought it would be safe to speed up again, I trotted off, rewarding myself with the promise of another short walk once I hit the busy road I had to cross. Yes, mind games are us, at least they are for me whenever I run. As I made my way home, I did notice that the leaves were blowing across the road much faster than I was running. That was a bit depressing at the time, if you must know. Although since the computer says the wind was blowing at 15 mph, I guess I can live with it. At my speed, I'm probably just lucky to have laid eyes on the leaves at all before they zoomed away.

Despite the two small walk breaks dictated by my head rather than my legs, the run actually felt pretty decent. I was my usual disgusting, sweaty mess at the end of it and my fingers did start tingling twice despite making sure I wasn't clenched up tight at all. I even turned around and went on a couple mile trail walk with a friend to walk her dogs after I was finished. I didn't much want to get out of the shower after I was finished with all of it and our water bill is going to look like we're watering the lawn during a drought summer but I'm feeling pretty good about myself right now. Ask me tomorrow if I can still walk though. ;-)

5 Days Running

And I mean that title not only in the literal sense of running but also in the sense of consecutive days. Yes, I have been out running for the past five days, all in a row. That is more than I've done in a very long time. The last time I ran a lot, I was in a whole different decade of my life. I was many pounds thinner. My knees cooperated with me much better. But it's time to get back to what helped me be thinner and healthier then. I got on the scale the other day and saw a number that I had vowed to myself I was never going to see again. And yet there I stood. Why is it that the vows we make to ourselves (think New Year's Resolutions) are the easiest ones to break? We honor promises to mere acquaintances but we don't honor those made to the person with whom we are most intimate, ourselves. That has to stop so I am hauling my sorry butt out the door kicking and screaming and running again.

And you know it wouldn't be me running without ridiculousness ensuing, right? So far in the past five days I have had running tights that tried to fall off my hind end, causing me to attempt to give myself a wedgie about every five feet, at least until I was sweaty enough for them to stick permanently; I have almost stepped on a small snake (what is it with me and wildlife that needs to stay in the wild and quit scaring me anyway?!); I have been breezed past by a running neighbor who paused momentarily and fell back to chat with me before looking at her watch, realizing just how badly I was tanking her run, and racing off again; I have had to fight the urge to stop running and cry when Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah came on the iPod in the middle of the run instead of the end where it once was, long ago when a much fitter and faster me created the playlist specifically for my runs; and just today I had to deal with swirling winds that managed to blow as headwinds each and every time I faced a hill. I still don't believe in omens but if I did, I'd say that someone up there agrees with my chiropractor, who told me on Monday that I shouldn't be running, or at least not running on streets. I love Dr. George, but he just doesn't understand how hard it is to push my butt out the door and do this. Adding in driving to a track (boring) or the Greenway just to have a softer surface to run on would likely end up with me running errands in running clothes, not running in running clothes. And with that number on the scale and the strangulation hold of my pants around my middle, well, we just can't have that.

I have been alternating my mileage between short and shorter these past five days. No need to make myself hurt so badly I never want to see my Asics again, right? And this morning I'm pretty sure I looked fantastic on my run. You know all those women who go to the gym wearing makeup? I admit I have been very judgy about them in the past. But today I ran in makeup so I felt extra glamorous about exercising. Ok, not really. I put on makeup (mainly just eye stuff) last night for a charity do we went to because I thought I should wear at least as much eyeliner as my twelve year old son had on. (He's currently Cubby the Lost Boy in the his middle school's production of Peter Pan and he seems to like eyeliner about as much as I do, which is to say not at all but he'll have to wear it again tonight and I won't. The benefits of being a grown-up!) In any case, when both T. and I went to wash the makeup off, we both discovered that soap was not adequate and since I really never wear makeup, I had nothing better to work with. Hence both of us still had on eyeliner this morning when we woke up. Not sure how that's going to fly today at school for him but in my case, it made for a cosmetically enhanced run that ended with me looking like a demented powder puff football player with eye black streaking down her cheeks. Soap may not budge eyeliner but sweat sure does! Not that I ever expected to win any fashion awards while running (or any time, really). And now I'm not so judgmental about other women working out in makeup. Maybe they too just didn't manage to get it to come off before their morning workout. Unless, of course, they aren't sporting bedhead with the made-up face. In that case, well, I still find them suspect. They're probably the women who claim they don't sweat too. (Liars.)

The temperature here is dropping like a rock and we're heading into the ten pound plus holidays but it's the right time to work on me again. Hopefully this time I can keep my vow to myself. I don't think I'll keep up the eyeliner thing, I fervently hope the snakes have all hibernated for the winter, and with a little bit of luck my pants will stay on my butt but you'll continue to see me plugging around the streets (sorry Dr. George), ideally losing weight under my seventeen layers, and even continuing to share the misadventures that are bound to follow.

Savannah Rock and Roll Half Marathon

Remember how, I posted about my last 5K and mentioned that I was going to get serious about trying to train decently for my upcoming half marathons? Yeah, I lied. The two 5K's I did in the last couple of months are the farthest I've run since last January's Disney half. Yup, the same half where I vowed never to do an untrained half again. Apparently I am nothing but a big fat liar. Because this past weekend, I hopped in a car with two friends and headed to my parents' in Savannah to run yet another half for which I was woefully unprepared.

As convenient as it was to be able to stay at mom and dad's house, not being downtown in a hotel meant that we had to catch a shuttle to the race. This was a bit of a problem. We arrived at Savannah Mall, the shuttle location, at just past 6am. The race was scheduled to start at 7:30am. You'd have thought that surely that was enough time. Unfortunately it was not. We stood in lines at the mall, freezing our poor tail ends off waiting for buses for an inordinate amount of time. K., C., and I considered tackling some guys near us who were smart enough to be dressed for the weather in sweat pants. We figured that they could probably take us though, especially given that our hands had frozen into clenched up claws. At least the buses were heated but the shuttle location meant we had a lengthy drive into the city to the race. At 7:30, when the gun was ostensibly sounding at Bull and Bay Streets, we were still on the highway making our way into the city. For those of us with late starting corrals (ie the really slow pokes like me), this was not a big deal at all but it led to us being passed by much faster runners who had missed their scheduled start for more miles than we would have expected.

I really lucked out in that K. also fell down on the job as far as training was concerned so we were equally unprepared and could run together the entire way. Since I had gone 3 miles and she had gone 6, my big goal was to get past those two mile markers still running. I'm probably a colossal pain in the butt to run with because it's like I'm people watching at the mall. Poor K. had to endure me pointing out every oddity, every entertaining shirt, and every fun poster that passed us or that we passed. We had a good old time pointing out people who clearly tried to wear clothing that was 3 or more sizes too small for them. K. found one woman who had shorts so far up her bum it looked almost as if she was running in a thong. I pointed out the woman whose running skirt was so short that it was really more a scarf around her waist. I thought about taking some pictures of people from the rear (and not just these two) to show the incredible variety of shapes of people who run marathons and half marathons but then realized that I'd be highly annoyed if some stranger snapped a picture of my jiggly butt on a run without my permission. I'd probably think they were a bit of a pervert. So I refrained. (You should all breathe a sigh of relief since I had intended to post those pictures here too.)

Some of the most entertaining sights during the race were the backs of people's t-shirts. Now, the mass produced ones can be quite entertaining and pithy but my personal favorites are the homemade shirts. An older man ran past us at one point and he had a laminated card pinned to the back of his shirt. It said, "Estimated finish time: Tuesday around noon." The fact that I was seeing this from behind and watching it get smaller and smaller in the distance tells you a little bit about how fast untrained runners run a half marathon. Another one that made me chuckle was ironed on to the back of a woman (also going faster than us) which said "If a marathon was easy, it'd be called Yo Mama." There was the "I could be wearing that" kind of shirt that said "Muffin Tops 13.1." And then there was the truly inspirational: "Proof that all things are possible, -160 lbs." It does not need to be said that all of these people were running faster than we poky little puppies were since I was reading their backs.

The other place you find entertainment during a long and painful run you haven't trained for (are you sensing how important this training thing is yet?) is looking at the signs along the route. People make lots of encouraging signs for their loved ones. My family doesn't but hey, I only hold that slightly against them. Since I never get signs specifically encouraging me (and co-opting any encouragement intended for other Kristens doesn't count, especially when so many of them spell our name incorrectly--it's an EN, not an IN at the end), I love the funny ones. There was a guy under an overpass holding a sign that said "GO COMPLETE STRANGER GO." I think I fell a little bit in love with him when I saw it. The best was that some anonymous voice behind me shouted to him "Thanks complete stranger!" Another one I poked K. to check out said "Do it longer. Do it faster. Do it harder. (That's what she said.)" Yes, sexual humor is never out of place during an endurance run.

Pointing shirts and posters and people out to K. as we ran helped keep my mind off the fact that we were actually stupid enough to try to run that 13.1 miles. Because, in case you are under the impression that it's not far, you're wrong. Map out some of the routes you normally drive and you'll be shocked at how far 13 miles will actually get you. In any case, marathons always seem to bring out some interesting characters. There are, of course, the folks in costume. We had wonder woman on our bus to the race. And I saw 4 Where's Waldos posing for a picture after the race. But it's the characters you stumble across during the run who divert your attention best.

There was a guy just ahead of us who had a doggie squeak toy in his pocket. Any time there were people cheering on the course, he squeaked that toy for all he was worth. There was a barefoot runner. (Given the bloody stumps and blisters I generally have at the end of the race, barefoot running appeals to me not at all.) There was the young guy wearing a pink race shirt, pink knee high socks, and a black running skirt. I asked K. if she thought he'd lost a bet. She said she thought it was a choice and I suspect she was correct. In any case, he had the good sense to get a skirt that was the proper size, unlike the woman I'd seen earlier. There was a woman who must be a religious fundamentalist of some stripe as she was wearing a long black skirt to mid shin, stripey rainbow socks pulled up to cover what the skirt didn't, a long sleeved blouse type shirt, and had her hair in a braid that stretched below her bottom. There was a Marine running with a full pack, the Marine flag, and an American flag. Oo-rah to him! Personally I carry my extra 50 pounds around daily, evenly distributed over my entire body so I don't know what the big deal was but everyone else seemed impressed. ;-) One guy zipped past us singing at the top of his lungs to his music. A woman running beside us shouted to him, "That's right! You go! You'll never see us again." It's kind of hard to giggle and run at the same time. One guy was running with his girlfriend/wife and he was obviously trying to encourage her. She was just as obviously pretty much out of gas. If she hadn't been and I'd been her, I think I might have run faster for a minute just so I could catch him and kick him. He would run ahead of her a ways and then turn around and run backwards trying to convince her to catch him. I told K. that I thought that was incredibly annoying and I'd want to strangle him. Apparently I was a bit louder than I realized as a woman running next to them turned around and yelled back to me "I would too." Good to know I can be a judgmental big mouth even in the midst of a run. The worst person we saw though was a woman who had pooped her pants. She was running just slightly faster than we were so we had the benefit of the hideous smell (and unpleasant sight) for longer than we would have liked. I should add that each and every one of these people I mentioned was running faster than we were. Although we did pass the annoying boyfriend/husband and his clearly wiped out significant other walking towards the end of the race and she hadn't given him a black eye yet so she really must have loved him.

Although I hope I won't do another race so unprepared, I was really pleased that K. and I managed to run the entire 13.1 miles. We crossed the finish with a chip time of 2:39:29. Definitely slow but upright and running the whole way! Once we were finished, I needed a porta-potty rather desperately. A big greasy hamburger the night before the race was yet another of my poorer decisions and my body was about to extract revenge. You know it's a sad day when you look with pleasure on a porta-john. It's even sadder when your thigh muscles are incapable of allowing you to hover over the grungy seat but you don't care and only let out a moan of pleasure at finally sitting down. The moment of truth comes, of course, when you are finished and should really leave the john but find that standing up is last on your list of friendly options. Knees protesting madly, I made my way back to K. where we heard the overall awards being given out. When they started off by saying that third place in the women's half marathon went to someone from Charlotte, NC, I just knew they meant me. Um...no. I'm just a bit older and slower than Alana Hadley. But only a bit. (And my son, hearing about her amazing performance, said "Our track team is dead!")

Since I wasn't going to be getting any awards, we headed back to the shuttle line to catch a bus back to the mall. I swear we walked another mile to get the shuttle ("How best should we mess with these runners who've just run a gajillion miles? Let's make the shuttle stops be forever away from the finish and see how long it takes them to hobble over to them. Yeah, that sounds like fun!") And once back to the mall, we had to make the equally long trek to my car. Being smarter than the average bear, we cut through the mall in all our stinky glory instead of going around the outside. K. needed a bathroom break on our way so I loitered outside near several other people who obviously had also just finished the run. As one girl came out of the bathroom, her waiting friend told her that she'd found out what the word they didn't know meant. Word geek that I am, I leaned in to hear her ask which word it was. Apparently the word "inaugural," as in "The Inaugural Savannah Rock and Roll Marathon" had stumped all three girls. I swear I weep for the youth of today.

All in all, a fun time. New things I learned from this run: I learned that stashing your phone up your sleeve during a long run is a bad plan. It now makes a sound like I am getting a text every minute or so even though I'm not. I thinking having it bang against my elbow for so long short-circuited something in it. It makes me sound really popular though! I also learned that stiffness sets in in different ways depending on your lack of training. For instance, having gone to the bathroom while out for dinner that night, I found that there was no way on God's green Earth than I was going to be able to raise my leg high enough to flush the toilet. Just another little indignity I never knew about before. And I learned that there are very good reasons to flash your father a rude gesture in church. I went with mom and dad to the Saturday night service after the race while K. and C. napped or rested back at their house. I'm pretty sure I moaned audibly when we had to stand to sing and again when we sat back down. I know I had to grab the chair in front of me for balance since I felt like someone had knee-capped me. It was at this point that dad pointed out an older gentleman in the row across from us who had also run the half that morning. This man was rising and sitting without any apparent discomfort. Show-off! And yes, I made a rather rude gesture in dad's general direction. The people behind us were probably horrified but I figure they were already distracted by my moaning and groaning so they weren't surprised when I turned out to be an impertinent and rude piece of baggage too.

Now we need to see if I have learned the most important lesson of all: TRAIN FOR THE BLASTED RACES! (But not until after the state tennis tournament is over as I wouldn't want to over train for that. ::grin::)

5K race thoughts

My current half marathon training plan is not just limited to sitting on the couch thinking I can run 13.1 miles or playing tennis (which includes running so it's legitimate, right?!) although both of these are indeed a vital part of my current training. I have also started running a few of the local 5K races, especially when they benefit good causes, to judge just how brutal this half next month is going to be. Last month I ran the Rock and Read 5K to benefit local libraries. It taught me that not running at all to train was about the dumbest idea I've had in a long time, probably since I decided that 3 kids was a good idea. So yeah, it ranks right up there amongst the dumbest ideas ever. It was also the slowest 5K I've ever run in my life. On the plus side, it lit a bit of a fire under my rapidly expanding butt. So this morning I ran another 5K to see how the latest change in exercise habits was treating me. The Big South 5K benefits middle school sports and although neither of the two older kids have played middle school sports (they prefer to do things that involve us having to pay large sums of money rather than the token amount school sports require), it's a good cause and better yet, it was close and I knew much of the route from my marathon training 3 years ago when I wasn't so fat and out of shape.

When I first woke up this morning, I have to admit I was not pleased to think I was going to have to drag myself out of bed and actually run. In fact, I laid in my toasty bed and seriously considered ditching the race. After all, I had paid the money and picked up my packet already. Who on earth would it hurt if I didn't run? Furthermore, this particular race didn't have shoe timing chips that would ultimately need to be returned to the timing folks; it had strips across the back of the race numbers and that strip is mine to keep forever. So I wouldn't even have to have forked over the postage to return the chip if I chose to luxuriate in my cocoon of blankets. It was a tough call, let me tell you! But I did eventually roll out of bed and head out into the chill morning.

The event was well set-up and there were 1000 runners; not bad for a two year old race. A flash mob of cheerleaders from one of the local middle schools busted out in a dance before the start. Runners as a group seem to be singularly unimpressed with such stuff right before the start of a race. I personally don't do perky in the morning. Ok, I don't do perky ever, but definitely not in the morning. But good for those girls getting out and doing that. My children didn't budge from their cozy beds to come out and run, walk, or cheer (they are mine after all). The race itself was through neighborhoods and very pleasant and after the first mile, slow starter that I am, I actually felt good. I managed to feel good through the entire race. So a definite improvement on last month (and my time was over a minute faster this time too).

I enjoy listening/eavesdropping on other people both before and during short races like this one. When parents are running with children and offering them encouragement, it helps me. But there are just some truly entertaining comments that I'd chuckle over if I wasn't breathing too hard to laugh. As we headed down the first slight downhill, a guy with good legs but a beer belly told his young daughter, "Pick up the pace downhill. When you're fat, you have to roll down as fast as you can." They sped off and left me in the dust. I was still plugging along at my usual pace when I came up behind two young boys, maybe 9 or 10 years old, who were walking together. The one turned to the other and said, "OK, let's run to the front now." And they took off and left me in the dust too (probably did make it to the front too, the little buggers). My favorite though (and it's only my favorite because it was said as I was passing them instead of the other way around) was the two teen/pre-teen girls in goofy stripey socks who stopped to walk at about 2.5 miles. The one said to the other as they were being passed by people behind them "Look at all the people we're going to have to catch now." I can't swear to it, but I'm pretty sure those stripey socks never did end up passing me. :-)

Casual races like this can be fun provided you don't get run over by a runner pushing a jogging stroller. I used to be impressed by these people but over time, I've noticed that they are all incredibly fit and thin. So pushing a jogging stroller is really no big deal for them. It's the roly poly runners like me who have to lug the weight around *all the time* who should be more impressive. Fit running mom or dad can ultimately hand that kid off to someone else and revert to their gazelle like nature while we hippos have no choice. I've got it way harder. Of course, they probably don't carb load the night before the race on mint Oreo cookies either, but I'm just trying to honor the spirit of the thing on my own terms. And I never did claim to be a real runner. Jogger, shuffler, dilettante, occasional slug, yes. Real runner, in my dreams.

I did feel good for the majority of the race (minus the amount of time that it takes me to get into my stride) and I managed to average under 10 minute miles so I'm doing better than I was. I still run with the heavy runners at the back of the pack: heavy as in weight, heavy as in heavy on their feet (you should hear some of the pounding footfalls), and heavy as in heavy breathers. The latter is me and apparently I'm a heavy and loud enough breather to scare people who are wearing iPods given the number of over the shoulder startled looks I got as I plugged along today. I will never be one of the front runners, not the 5-6 minute mile runners who finish their entire race before I hit mile 2, but I'd love to get back to my sub-nine minute pace. Not thinking that's likely for this half next month but maybe for the half in January if I do remember to get out and run sometime again before then.

Thoughts that occurred to me while running this am...

and one that occurred afterwards because I am a little slow on the uptake.

In the order that the thoughts occurred to me, which is to say, no particular order at all, let me share with you some of the contents of my head during this morning's run.

1. I can't believe I gave up extra sleep time for this! (Either I'm coming down with something or hell has frozen over because I looked at my bed this morning after coming back from kid #3's bus stop and actually chose to go for a run instead of crawling back under the covers.)

2. Huh. I'm not sure these lyrics are the best thing to be hearing mid-run. (The iPod was on shuffle so I'm not sure of the song but the lyrics were something along the lines of "I want to be running when the sand runs out." Yeah, not feeling so metaphorical at that particular moment.)

3. Holy cow buddy! Please don't ever drag your trash to the curb shirtless again. Unless you are in phenomenal shape and a hottie to boot, save even the partial nudity for the privacy of your own house. (And shortly following that, directed to the same guy came another thought.) Just because the jeans are your skinny jeans, does not make them, in fact, *actual* skinny jeans. I have jeans that fit 20 years and 30 pounds ago too but I keep them as a goal, not a current fashion statement. And as far as that goes, skinny jeans on men is not a pretty fashion anyway so best to just avoid the whole look. (Yes, it took me a while to run past this guy's house. I think it was the running equivalent of slowing down in the car to rubberneck. Unfortunately it probably reinforced the guy's image of himself as able to pull off the too small jeans hiding under the tubby gut--and yes I am well aware of the pot calling the kettle black circumstances of that observation but at least my tubby gut was covered and trying to exercise.)

4. What does that guy have in his hand? A golf club? Shit! Maybe I shouldn't run past him. (It's a little disconcerting to be faced with passing a walking man carrying a golf club when you are clearly a chubby, slow, out of shape woman. On the plus side, he was a painfully slow walker if I was sailing past him like I had wings on feet because Apollo I'm not.)

5. Seriously, if you wanted to ban feathers in girls' hair, shouldn't that have been included in the dress code before the school year began and I spent money getting one put in R.'s hair? Not knowing that it would be the fashion is no excuse for you, as principal of a middle school, to declare after the fact that feathers are not okay. It's been a fashion making its way around the country for months now as you would know if you paid any attention whatsoever. (Fly fishermen the country over have been lamenting the rising cost of feathers for their flies as a result of the trend and even I, in my self-imposed news vaccuum--gearing up to avoid all election BS, dontcha know, know that and I'm not paid to deal with 6th-7th-8th graders all day every day. Seriously, how out of touch is the school administration?)

6. Only a few more small hills and then I'm home. Wonder if crawling up them still counts as running? (Self-explanatory, no?)

And the shower thought...

7. Mother effer! (Sweat washing into the paper cut like snicks all across my legs where I had a run in with ornamental grass planted too close to the sidewalk on my walk last night hurts like a son of a beeyotch. And furthermore, lotion after a shower is an even worse idea. Just sayin'. And you're welcome for keeping it close to PG rated since you know there was absolutely zero censoring in my actual thoughts. Hey, it's my own private shower after all. We also won't discuss the fantasy I had about creeping out late at night and taking a weed whacker to the whole damn mound of grass. A girl can dream though.)

Tueday's midmorning running musings

I'm stoopid. No really. Dumber than a box of rocks. Who in their right mind goes for a run knowing that the temps are well into the eighties? Who was up and awake when the temps were in the low seventies and opted to go back to bed and run later? Yup. Apparently my IQ today is lower than a rock. I couldn't run the whole planned run (only 3 1/4 miles) because the heat just sucked the life right out of me. And my clothes and hair look like I've been running through the sprinklers. Don't I wish! Actually, I contemplated jumping into the neighborhood pool but then realized that since it's not officially open until this weekend they've probably got some nasty chemical stew going on in it right now. So I'd die from heat stroke accelerated by poisoning if I hopped in.

While I was running and losing 100 lbs. of water weight a minute, I finally understood why world class runners wear the equivalent of a sports bra and tight underwear to run. And as my own shorts bunched up between my fat, sweaty thighs, I wished I had those to run in too. (Well, I also wished for smaller thighs but I can buy the first and neither love nor money seems to be providing the second). Sadly, without the thinner thighs (amongst other body parts), the running underwear outfit is not an option. Just the thought of my wobbly, undulating stretch marks on display for the entire neighborhood to see is giving me an optical illusion headache. On the plus side, my bunched up and uncomfortable shorts caught a lot of sweat and kept it from running down into my socks. Yes, appealing, isn't it? Running can take you right back to childhood and wetting your pants. Such a charming trip down memory lane.

I did have a few moment on the run that shouldn't have been and ultimately didn't last very long though. Some neighbors lost trees in the last nasty set of storms and they've had someone come out, take them completely down, and grind the stumps. So a brief close of the eyes and the smell of freshly sawn wood transported me immediately to the the cottage up north where summer running is dreamy and cool. Totally lovely. Then the heat radiating up off the road, the sweat running down my spine, the sunscreen leaking into my burning eyes, and the bunched up, wet shorts brought me right back down here to the sunny south. Maybe tomorrow I'll be smart enough to stay out of bed until *after* I've run!

Real runners

Real runners run in the rain. Real smart runners look at the weather radar, see the severe weather still in the area, and find a treadmill on which to run. No one has ever accused me of being a smart runner. I do hate to run in humidity (a real handicap here in the generally sunny, hot south) and rain is nothing if not over the top humidity but I didn't melt when I ran in the rain before so I convinced myself I wouldn't melt this time either. My sister wants to run the Disney half with me again in January and I am not only considering that (although I'd hopefully train for it this time!) but I am unexplainably attracted to the idea of the Inaugural Rock and Roll Savannah Marathon and Half Marathon in November. Any takers who want to shuffle along with me? Of course, I have the running bug about as long as it takes for me to get out the door and start sweating. Who knew I was such a lame baby? --about the weather, about exercise in general, about hills, about everything except signing up online and forking over the money.

Anyway, despite the nasty storms lingering in the area, I liberally applied Body Glide (how can I possibly be almost out of it when I haven't done any long runs in a coon's age?) and popped out the door to a pleasant surprise. No, it wasn't the sun drying up all the rain ala Itsy Bitsy Spider but it was a break in the deluge. And really, it's good to find happiness in the small things, right? Of course, that means I used the last of my precious Body Glide for a short run that didn't require it. Ah well. Consider it my small contribution to the working of the economy when I buy the next stick.

It was still nastily humid but I discovered that my new iPod (shhhhh! Don't tell anyone D. got me a replacement iPod instead of the Zune. I just can't change my corporate allegiance if I love a product--and already have a good iTunes library--just because MS is now paying our bills) clips to my clothes and was already fully charged. Bonus! The neighbors haven't heard me belting out my playlist for quite a while now. I'm sure they missed the off-key serenade as well as my fabulous listening choices. It's funny when you listen to songs you haven't heard in a while. They do take you back. I was in the locker room at college with the rest of the swimmers as I caterwauled along to December 1963 (Oh What a Night). I smiled and hummed to The Shores of Les Cheneaux by Mary Gerwin as I imagined running up at the cottage. Incidentally, she's got a gorgeous voice if you are unfamiliar (and in the spirit of full disclosure, my daughter and her niece are friends). I remembered the Erasure concert with an old boyfriend when I heard Take a Chance on Me. I could see my daughter shaking pom-pons in one of her dances from years ago during Avril Lavigne's Boyfriend (of course, mine is the explicit version and hers was not only the radio track but cut out even further so not exactly the same song). I suspect I was running very strangely during Flo Rida's Low since that and Kid Rock's All Summer Long take me directly to The Islander Bar at the cottage and evenings spent dancing there with J. so the run started to look like a weird jerking run/dance combo. And there are so many more songs connected to people and places in my life. I might have to do a long run just to hear and enjoy them all again. (See how I can happily plan for more--and longer--running when I am safely ensconced at the computer and nowhere near the vicinity of my running shoes?)

So did the weather hold out for me you ask now that I've finished with the digression down the song inspired memory lane? It did. Not that you could tell by the time I got home given I was dripping with sweat and looked like a cloud burst had centered its efforts all on me. As much as I'd like to claim I worked that hard, it really is a function of the humidity combined with my appallingly overactive sweat glands rather than any impressive exercise chops that I looked like I had been running for hours. I also learned that my contacts help keep more sweat out of my eyes than I knew. How did I discover this little known perk of being blind as a bat? Well, I rubbed an eye to wipe some sweat out of it and promptly swiped my contact out too. I used to regularly lose contacts in the pool when I swam but I never imagined I'd sacrifice one to running. Life is just full of surprises. And once that tiny corrective piece of plastic was gone, salty water seemed magnetically attracted to that particular eye. Sopping wet, weeping from one blind eye, and only capable of barking out every tenth word of the songs on the iPod, the end of my run was really some kind of wonderful. Well, it was some kind of something but I'm trying to keep things G rated on here.

Running wasn't all bad though. If it had been, I wouldn't even begin to contemplate the races, even from the safety of the computer chair. I do feel smug about going out and going 3+ miles in nasty weather when I certainly didn't have to, not even for exercise purposes. I've played tennis twice this week already and have another match tomorrow (could I actually win for once?) so adding in a run as short as this was hardly impacts the exercise front at all. And I have mostly been good as gold with what I've been eating and am at almost 25 pounds lost since January so I'm a mere 6 pounds up from my lowest adult weight and what I weighed when we moved here three years ago. Feeling pretty good in general. Maybe that's what it takes for me. I won't be on the roads tomorrow (unless it rains and my match gets called off) but I very well might take running shoes with me to the dance competition and take a run during one of our very long breaks. Then again, the competition is in the mountains and, well, did I mention I'm a big lame baby about hills?!

Running realisation #57

When you glance up from the road and see a couple who look familiar walking toward you, make sure and certain they are the friends you think they are before raising a weary arm and waving wildly or they will wonder who the crazy red-faced woman with flapping bingo wings waving at them is. Neighborhood humiliation is all that much worse when you look like you've been dragged fighting through a hedge backwards.

Running realisation #12

The legs that used to be rock star hard and muscular are now nothing more than spokesmodels for Jell-O Jigglers. Must run more consistently!

Running realisation #325

A pony tail is my very own running metronome. It just doesn't bear thinking about what else bounces up and down and back and forth in perfect rhythm with my stride.

Disney Half Marathon

No, there have not been posts missing about all my training for this half marathon that sounded like such a good idea last year when my sister convinced me to run it with her. What's been missing has been the training. And yet I am just crazy enough to decide that the fact that my longest run in the past six months was between 3 and 4 miles was no hindrance to running this race. The fact that I can count on my fingers the number of times I've gotten out on the road and actually run in the past six months also didn't dissuade me. I am nothing if not stupid stubborn. So this past Saturday, I slipped my winged shoes onto my completely un- and under-trained feet and headed out for 13.1 very long miles as if it was a walk in the park. (Well, given that it was at Disney and there was some walking involved, I guess it actually was a walk in in the park.)

On Friday morning, after seeing the kids off to school and making sure all arrangements to get them where they needed to be in my absence were in place, I checked to make sure I had my shoes, loaded up the rental car and headed out for my 8 hour drive to Disney. The drive was completely uneventful and quiet without the usual kid and canine chorus in the backseat although I did get a phone call from a friend telling me all my careful planning for kid activities went to hell in a handbasket since my daughter suffers from amnesia the minute I am farther than 10 miles away from her. Oh well!

I beat my sister to our hotel by about 10 minutes and got in the rather long registration line. When it was my turn to register, the woman behind the desk got a weird look on her face and disappeared with my license. Luckily the problem was that they were overbooked so they upgraded us to the Caribbean Beach Resort. Of course, given the run's early start time and our late-ish check in time, there was going to be no time to examine our upgraded amenities. We hopped back in our cars, drove to our new hotel, and checked in there.

We then immediately headed to the bus stop to catch a ride to the Expo to check in there. Neither S. nor I had trained the way we should have so S. was a little disconcerted when she saw our bus, thinking that it said R.I.P. as its destination. Would have been about right! (It actually said V.I.P.) We got to the Expo, registered for the race and wandered through the goods for a while before heading back to our room to spend some quality sisterly-bonding time together.

As soon as we got into the room, while I was still tossing things onto the table, S. was busily tearing a bed apart to check for bedbugs. Once she had declared it bug free, I immediately claimed the bed. Big sister status should count for something, right? She moved on to check the second bed as I climbed into the first one. As I was arranging the bedspread at the foot of the bed (she is skeeved out by bugs and I'm skeeved out by the idea of hotel bedspreads), I noticed that my blanket had hair on it. And not my hair. Almost woven into the weft of the blanket. I wailed about the foreign person hair on my blanket while S. just laughed and told me that it was karma since I'd stolen that bed from her in the first place. In the midst of us laughing about my disgusting, hairy blanket, mom called to check in on us. (I think she was more than a little nervous about us running the half, especially since we didn't lie and tell her we were in shape.) She was horrified by my hairy blanket tale and insisted I call housekeeping and get a new blanket. Meanwhile, S. was ever helpful and asked me if the hairs were pubes. (You'd never guess we weren't 12, would you?) Mom insisted that I could catch an STD from the icky blanket. S. and I howled with laughter and agreed that I was marinating in a stew of STD's right at that very moment. So I promised mom that I'd get the blanket swapped out and we hung up. Laughter before bed must be tiring because I fell asleep almost immediately.

We had set a wake-up call for 3:15am with the intention of being on the bus by 3:30 as the run started at 5:30. At 3:05, S. asked me if I wanted to sleep the last 10 minutes because she was awake and getting up. Yes, she was the sort of child who used to come into your room, pry open your eyelid, and ask if you were sleeping. Good to know very little has changed! Since I obviously wasn't going to get that last 10 minutes, I got up and crawled into my duds. We dragged ourselves out to the marathon bus (no longer R.I.P. buses) and got on. What was playing on the speaker system? The Bee Gees. Stayin' Alive. Seriously. I couldn't make this up if I tried!

We had agreed the night before that we weren't actually going to run together because I was in the corral ahead of S. plus she has this misconception that a 9-10 minute mile is *really* slow. I am under no illusions about just what slow really is. Slow, thy name is K. (who can pull off 9 minute miles only when properly trained and in shape). But not running together made it a little bit annoying that I hadn't brought along my iPod since I had been anticipating chatting throughout the run. I know, sick that I can contemplate 13.1 miles and chatting, but I did just admit I am all about slow so it's not really a very big feat. As it was time to move to the starting area, S. and I split up.

I have a slight issue with crowds so the 27,300 people at the race was a little much for me. To combat the willies, I pushed to the front of my corral so I'd have a little space. Unfortunately I ended up next to some people who had just met and were casually chatting about the race. The one guy mentioned the bus that collect the people who aren't keeping to the 16 minute mile pace. He was then asked if there were many people on the bus and who on earth could they be. His answer? Well, a lot of them are people who haven't trained for the race. It felt a like the universe was trying to bludgeon me over the head with my own stupidity. I scooted out of range of his very loud voice as I waited for the race to start.

I couldn't see the start line or the enormous screen while we waited for the race to start but I sure could hear the commentators as they interviewed people, talked to the amazing Achilles athletes, and introduced the live feed to Victory Base in Afghanistan where there was going to be a 1/2 marathon simultaneous with the Disney 1/2. Finally with a fireworks display, the first flight was off. 5 fireworks dsiplays later, my flight was off and I was heading into one of my most hair-brained ideas ever.


The Disney marathon is very well organized. Despite the insanely early hour of the start, there were Disney cast members stationed all over the course to cheer on those of us crazy enough to be running. There were folks in costume (and some in costume running the race too) and folks just wearing the Mickey and Minnie hands all giving up sleep to support us. Unlike my other half marathon (the one where I was in shape), I searched for and noted every last mile marker. Once I got past mile marker 3 still running, I was pretty pleased with myself. (It's always good to have low expectations for yourself; that way you can be assured of exceeding them.)

I valiantly plugged along, knowing that I was going pretty slowly. Between miles 1 and 2, I saw the first wheelchair athlete pass on his way back to the finish. I have to admit that I seriously wondered if he would be willing to let me hitch a ride back on his lap. I mean, he was clearly winning by a large margin as there were no other athletes close to him. He probably still would have won with my fat butt adding another level of challenge to his race. Another mile or less into the race, I saw the first elite runner zip past on his way back towards the finish. Someone running close to me shouted, "You're amazing" to him. Bless the employee or family member who shouted back in our direction, "You are too." I'm not sure I buy it, but it made me feel good all the same. A little farther on, I passed a woman holding up a sign that said "Sweat is Sexy." All I could think was that she'd never gotten a whiff of me because honey, in my world, sweat is only sexy from a distance; close up, it stinks.

Turning the corner to run up Main Street Disney was incredibly cool. Definitely the best part of the run in terms of scenery. The race is actually not in the parks themselves nearly as much as I had expected but given that I tend to be a look at the ground kind of runner, this was mostly okay (although the steep camber of two stretches of the race was incredibly rough). I noticed as I came to each mile marker that my mile pace was getting slower and slower. I walked through every water stop, sometimes taking both Powerade and water. My smallest toes on both feet started developing blisters at about mile 3 and each step was agony for a while until the nerve endings down there clearly just quit in the face of my utter intransigence in the face of their complaining.

At mile 8, my head beat out my body and I walked instead of running. I walked on and off from mile 8 to mile 12 depending on how loudly my muscles were complaining. When my lower intestine started rumbling ominously at mile 11, I picked up the pace for a while. At some point in there while I was walking, an older man (60's? 70's?) tapped me on the shoulder as he speed walked past me and asked if I was doing okay. When I nodded and smiled, he gave me a thumbs up and melted into the crowd in front of me. Not too much later, a woman about my age patted my shoulder and told me I was doing great. How incredibly pitiful must I have looked from behind to inspire two complete strangers to touch me and encourage me to keep going? I'm wondering if the fact that my hands swelled to look like I was wearing Mickey Mouse gloves inspired their concern? Or maybe it was because the back (and admittedly the front too under the race bib) of my shirt looked like I was entering a wet t-shirt contest? Obviously something about me screamed defeated at that point. Just before the last water stop, the muscles beside my knees started twitching uncontrollably, an incredibly odd feeling, so I downed yet another Powerade and forced myself into a run for the last stretch. I think I even sped up at the sight of the finish line because heaven knows I was just so pleased to be done. Knowing S. had smoked me and finished long ago, I collected water, medal, fruit, muffin, and diet Coke (you could eat for a week on what they give you at the end of a marathon) and wobbled off to find her at our "pre-arranged meeting place." She was standing there and I was sitting there and it took us both a while to realize that we were both there.

We shuffled over to the bus to the hotel and pulled ourselves on board. Since there were few seats left we split up. Some poor guy who had come to watch his brother run sat next to me and had to endure my funk cloud all the way back to the hotel. Once we got off the bus, I had to start excavating things from my running bra in order to unlock the rental car. It had seemed like a good storage spot that morning but when I pulled the wet and salty key out (after several other things including sports gels), it seemed like a less than good idea. S. started laughing about the next poor person to rent that particular car. From now on, I'm going to have to Lysol rental car keys before I touch them, all because I was gross. And you all will too now that I've planted the idea. You're welcome!

After a much needed shower, we got in our cars and drove to S.'s house where I promptly crawled into my nephew's bed and took a nap. I woke up with a massive headache and attacked it with drugs that had the added benefit of making my entire body feel close to human again. The following morning, I rolled out of bed and hit the road for the 8 1/2 hour drive home. I'm surprisingly not too stiff although the blisters on my feet still hurt. I am pretty certain that I won't agree to any more long distances without proper training but I'm thinking that these long races offer the perfect excuse to abandon the family guilt-free. Excuse me while I check my calendar to schedule the next one!

Oh, and yes, S. did smoke me. She ran the whole thing in 9:44 minute miles. Basically untrained. Brat.

Running or oh my aching legs

So I haven't been out on the road as much as I should be this training go-round but I am actually exercising so I think I get a partial pass on this, right? I have been playing marathon tennis matches, sweating through spin classes, and am even contemplating the comic relief of joining the adult jazz class at R.'s dance studio just as long as they don't think there's a snowball's chance in hell that these old hips will ever be capable of doing the splits. But I am running some (and even some that I haven't mentioned on here). Yesterday and today I actually got to do my favorite kind of running: with a friend. Weird how I'm really an introvert but I like to have someone huffing and puffing alongside me so I can run my mouth for the bulk of the time. Just shows how out of character the whole running thing is for me!

So K. is also training for a half marathon although hers is in December so slightly before mine. And she's running quite a bit farther than my pitiful mile and a half. Of course, if she was going to go almost 4 miles, I had to also. This is why I need the distraction of running with another person. When I start whining to myself, I let myself stop. When I want to whine in company, I tamp it down thanks to the fear of being told at the end of the run: "You're a colossally whiny pain in the ass and I never want to run with you ever again." Now this doesn't mean that my running partners over time don't think "Shut the eff up and just run woman!" But I think I'd prefer to be ditched because I chat pleasantly rather than because I am a big fat whiny baby. With luck K. won't tire of my diarrhea of the mouth any time soon though!

While yesterday was longer than I have been going, it wasn't really too bad, highlighting the fact that I clearly mentally sabotage myself right, left, and center on most of my solitary runs. So when we decided to do the same thing today, I was feeling pretty confident. Big mistake! Day two of running more than twice the distance your body has been doing hurts a heck of a lot more than day one. Getting to the turn-around point was brutally long. If I didn't know better, I'd say they added to the path overnight so it was farther than yesterday. Could happen, right?

As long as those almost four miles felt today, the worst part of the run was the chafing. Apparently an additional twenty pounds means that things that didn't need to be Body Glided up for such a (realtively) short run before sure do now. My inner thighs are on fire. And boy howdy did my shower once I got home hurt like a son of a gun. I'm now walking like I just got off a horse. That should bode well for that dance class tonight. Can you use bowlegged and graceful in the same sentence or is that too much of a stretch? OK, you probably can't use my name and graceful in the same sentence without the qualifier of "not" without stretching the bounds of credulity so I'm guessing not. This nasty rub rash reminds me of a girl I knew in high school who told me once that if you were a virgin, your legs touched at the top of your thighs but if you weren't, they didn't touch. Did I mention that I was rather naively gullible back then? Three children later I think I've proved her wrong. Or maybe that only counts for people at healthy weights and there's hope that someday my thighs won't touch. I'm going to close my eyes and wish for that day to come very very hard right now.....

::blink blink::

::blink blink::

::blink blink::

Nope. Anne, wherever you are, sadly I think you got it wrong.

After our run, K. and I went to the Trader Joe's conveniently located directly across from the lovely Greenway we've been running. Oh how I love you Trader Joe's. But I have to say I'd love you more if you gave a small corner of your refrigerated space over to water. You could eliminate some of the cheeses, in particular the lovely ones that most mock my efforts at eating reasonably (ie not the entire block all at once). Anyway, we can't have been the only sweaty, smelly people who wandered in from the Greenway desperate for cold hydration. Room temp bottles just don't cut it when your body temperature is roughly the same as the inner core of the sun. On the plus side, I did decide to do my lunch time shopping while I was there and apparently I should shop for food immediately following a run more often because I made far healthier choices than I normally would. Hey, maybe I'll reach that magic thigh not touching place sooner than I think! I came away with a salad with Italian beans, edemame beans, grapes and electrolyte added water. I can feel the health oozing out of me right now. Oh wait, that's just the water running through me. And yes, I am well aware that I probably bought into silly marketing with the electrolyte added water (there was no flavoring or sugar or anything like that) but maybe it's real and I wouldn't want to miss out on all the benefits if so, right? I mean, I haven't forwarded any chain e-mails lately so I can't afford to press my luck too much.

For those of you who know my usual barf-filled travelogues, you'll be pleased to know that vomit seems to stalk me in all areas of my life, even running (and no, it wasn't me puking although there were moments where I felt like I might). The puppy had to go to the vet for her spay appointment today. As she gets motion sick if she's in the car for more than 10 minutes, she threw-up all over on our way to the vet's. Two saving graces: one, I was smart enough to put a towel down for this eventuality and two, she hadn't had food or water since the night before so there wasn't a lot to upchuck. However, being lazy, I decided to leave the towel in the car for her return trip (certainly she'd have another episode after anesthesia, right?). This is a terrible plan when you then park your car in the sun while you run for 40+ minutes. OK, this is probably *always* a terrible plan but it is even worse in the aforementioned situation. My van now smells positively vomitrocious and I suggest that all of you start buying stock in Febreeze given my stupidity quotient! I got to drive home with doggie stomach acid fumes, rank dance shoes (which seem to have found a permanent home in my car), and my own sweaty stench all wafting at me. Not much of an olfactory reward for being so good on the exercise front but not nearly as fattening as a cookie scent would have been, I guess.

Provided that my legs don't fall off in the intervening interval, I plan to go shake my thang tonight at that dance class. Tomorrow is spin class and then tennis. Thursday is a tennis match. And Friday will be either a tennis match or a clinic, one of the two. So it looks like it may be Saturday before I see the road again. I'm just hoping the chafing is healed if the thighs are still touching by then (hope springs eternal).

Body 2, Head 0

Instead of mind over matter, my running career seems to consist of faking out my whiny brain, trying to shut down the negative chatter, and just continuing to put one foot in front of the other in a relatively straight line (if not watched carefully, I am like a horse given her head--always turning back to the home stable). Today was a win. I actually forced myself out there and took a run. And I really do mean forced. I did not want to go. I knew I should go. I knew I really needed to go. But I did not want to see the pavement any closer than from the window as I lounged on the couch with a book. Do you see what I am up against mentally with this running thing?! And yet the head lost today because I got out there despite my internal dialogue. Of course, I had to listen to myself trying to defeat me most of the way through the run. On the plus side, by the end of the run, the voices in my head were silent and I didn't feel as badly as I have the past few times out. Signs of improvement I think. Maybe the next time this happens I can actually try running a bit farther instead of stopping. This time though, I was tired of pushing my glasses up my nose and the call of the barking dogs left at home reeled me in.

I don't know how people who wear glasses and not contacts do it. My eyes have been red and itchy and since I was uncertain if I have allergies (never have until I moved here) or if I was suffering from pink eye, I haven't been wearing my contacts. So the run meant that either I ran with glasses or I ran blind. And I mean truly blind. Having had a terrible foot injury when I was able to see and being a klutz of the first degree, I decided that running blind was one of my dumber considerations. And that's going some! So I left my glasses on and plugged away. When the doggoned things weren't slipping down my nose, they were fogging up turning them into a whole new kind of road hazard. I'm going to have to go back to thinking about running blind (still not my best idea) or concede allergies and just put the contacts in regardless.

Other than the glasses thing, the run itself was uneventful. Same route as usual. Same huffing and puffing as usual. Same internal negotiations about when I can stop running as usual. Same jiggly bits as usual (you'd think this would be helping the weight loss plan but it's not). I did learn something new post run though. I learned that if you putz around in your yucky, smelly running clothes long enough for the too small sports bra to dry, it is significantly easier to peel off than when it is oozing sweat. You're welcome for that mental image. :-) And with that bit of worthwhile advice, here's hoping that the body beats the head into submission some more this week and the number of times I run goes up (even if I stop posting about each and every one).

Exercise and all that fun stuff

So today was training day 3. Yes, I know I started last Wednesday (and yes, today was garbage day too but apparently I timed it correctly as there was no truck in evidence today and I only had to smell unpleasantness from the cans too full to close, but I digress) which means I rested more days than I ran but I did also have a day with a tennis match in there too. And seeing as we lost in a 3 set tie breaker, I'm willing to fudge it a little and say that it partially counts as an exercise day. Of course, we lost because of a combination of lack of conditioning on my part and unforced errors (also sadly mainly attributable to me thanks to the aforementioned lack of conditioning) so the day just reinforced the need for me to be out on the road putting in the mile(s). And in case I needed additional reinforcements, only one of my very cute tennis skirts still fits me. Worse yet, today's sports bra (no, I didn't run *or* do laundry this weekend but I did dress up like Gene Simmons in KISS so I was more productive than you thought, no?) no longer contains all it was designed to contain so I look like I'm smuggling very lumpy cantalopes in my bra. And you know any time you start comparing a part of your anatomy to rotten fruit, things have gotten out of hand. So I was back out on the road today.

The weather was perfect for running with only a mild breeze. I felt phenomenal. It was almost like being in shape again. Then I turned the first corner and hit the first hill. My short lived dream of feeling good when I run right now died a miserable death. The women walking behind me whom I had just passed were dangerously close to overtaking me (how mortifying would that be?) so I powered up the hill and lost them. OK, they made a different turn than I did but it sounds like I actually put on a burst of speed if I say it the other way. I started feeling reasonably decent again at the halfway point but was back into self-negotiation mode by the time I hit a mile. I was also breathing like I have emphysema and not interested in swallowing my own spit by that point. Yes, I must have made a charming sight: dumpy brunette chugging down the road hawking loogies about every fourth foot fall. My neighbors who work have no idea the spectacle they're missing. I did manage to run all the way home again instead of stopping short and once at my driveway, I tried to take my pulse. Nevermind that I had no watch to time it with. It was clear that the poor overworked heart was pumping somewhere between cardio workout and heart attack level, probably leaning closer to heart attack.

Now I'm feeling good that I went out and did it. Tomorrow is a spin class and Thursday is another tennis match. Friday could be more tennis but I'm sure I'll squeeze in some more running soon. I have to really since I'm behind the training schedule for the half in January. Good news though, my sister is behind too and says she thinks she'll have to walk some of it. Not that I believe her for one moment especially since she probably walks faster than I run. But I'm on it now.

Training Day 2

Did I say that starting to run again was hard? What I didn't realize when I wrote that was that pushing myself out the door for day 2 would be even harder. I skipped yesterday because of a torrential downpour despite knowing that my kids just *think* I am a wicked witch and that I won't actually melt. So I knew that I had to get myself out there today or call this a failed attempt at a re-start. And how weenie would that look given how much I've whined about getting back out there? So with motivation at an all-time low, I scanned the closet for a shirt that would cover the jiggly bits even while I bounced along, re-did the velcro strap on the iPod case from the strangulation setting (aka much thinner Kristen setting) that I endured on Tuesday and dragged my already aching legs out the door into a chill, grey, misting sort of day. At least the weather gave me a good excuse for the tortured expression on my face. It's always easier to explain away a scowl when it's spitting rain than when the sun is shining and the birds are chirping and all is right with the world except your aching thighs and quads and groin muscles, etc.

I again chose my "regular" hill route and huffed and puffed my way through it slowly. I spent a lot of time arguing with myself how far I was going to run. I alternately gave myself permission to stop after a mile (ya big baby!) and then bullied myself into committing to going all the way back to my house (a whole mile and a half plus). Whimpering over such short distances is disheartening even if I am starting from scratch. So that's something I need to figure out how to banish from my head. Actually, if I figure out how to banish things short of knocking myself on the coconut and suffering full scale amnesia (which might be the condition I had in regards to starting exercise again come to think of it), I coud probably make a mint (and I have a long list of other things I need to permanently forget too). On the plus side, I am fairly easily distracted so almost stepping on a tiny turtle with a shell the size of a silver dollar interrupted the nattering voices. Yes, when you run as slowly as I do, you do get to see nature in all its tiny glory.

I found, as I ran and the music played along, that I don't remember the order of the songs on the marathon playlist. This is sad for two reasons. One, that means it has been incredibly long since I have had any running reason to play the playlist. Two, it shows how long it's been since I heard anything but the first four songs on the list. And no, today didn't advance me to song #5 either despite the fact that I ultimately won the mind over matter battle and ran all the way to the house and then walked another quarter mile or so for a cool down. I know there are good songs buried in there somewhere. But I suspect they don't tee up until mile 5 or 6 or so. And heaven knows that could be months before I get there!

And finally, on the run today I had a (semi)wardrobe malfunction that I had never experienced before. I chose a hair tie that was too loose and my pony tail slid out of the holder piece by annoying piece. And it isn't easy to try and grab your hair and jam it back into a band when you are running, at least not if you are the epitome of uncoordinated like I am. I probably shouldn't even have bothered trying as I looked rather like Cousin It on a bad hair day when I got home too. Do I have more hair than two years ago? Less? Why can I not make the ponytail holder work correctly? At least I've got something to ponder to keep my mind off of my aching muscles. And next time (yes, there has to be a next time) I think I'll use a different hair tie. Wonder if I can get different muscles too?

Running redux

Today was Day 1 of my training for the half marathon. The fact that I am training for a half might indicate that I have been running for a long time and am just going to ramp up my mileage. Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth. I am basically starting from zero (unless you count actually running about once every 6 months or more frequent unfulfilled intentions). And let me tell you, starting from scratch is rough. But apparently the feeling of doing this is a little like childbirth: the pain of it eventually fades from memory and so you settle back onto the couch to turn into a slug thinking all the while that you’ll start running again soon because, after all, it wasn’t *so* bad, now was it? People, I am here to tell you that childbirth hurts and starting running again hurts even worse. But a half marathon demands training, especially one that I’ve agreed to run behind with my athletic sister. So out the door I went.

I should probably also admit that starting running again might not have hurt nearly so much if I hadn’t gained that 30 lbs. since the last time I was running comfortably. I’m now doing the equivalent of running my old 30 lb. lighter self and a large toddler all at the same time. It could only have been worse if I’d taken up smoking in the interim too, which I didn't so I’ve got that going for me. But the extra weight and the length of time since I had last run guaranteed a rather painful, jiggly-looking, very short run. It didn’t disappoint on any front.

I waited until most of the morning traffic had left the neighborhood (I can do without the public humiliation of lumbering along in front of the neighbors, shirt straining over the belly and shorts bunched up unpleasantly between wobbly thighs), snagged my iPod, and headed out. I am at least occasionally smart and I started out at a very moderate to slow pace to help me ease into the run. Sadly, this is apparently my *actual* pace now and so there was nothing easy about it. Honestly, I think if I’d gone any slower, I would have been going backwards. On reflection, I might have drifted backwards on a few of the hills. Yes, I intentionally included hills in the run, not wanting to shy away from anything. Ok, I probably only included them because they are on my old “usual” route and I was too lazy to try and find a new route that was pleasingly flat. Computer issues mean that mapmyrun.com was out and I’m not sure they have a “wuss” function where you can plug in your requirements for a run, including but not limited to a completely flat and shaded route with moving sidewalks. They should get to work on that for me. So I plugged up and down the hills following the garbage truck. I’m still not sure if the bad smell was the trash or my own morning breath blowing back into my face. I might have to time next Tuesday’s run to try and miss the truck although their frequent stopping next to me meant it was almost like running with company.

I think I only ran about a mile and a half this morning. I’m actually not sure, having left the Garmin at home, knowing full well I wouldn’t really want to know length of run or the time it took to accomplish either. This doesn’t bode well for having to run 13.1 miles in 4 months. But with luck I’ll be out there plugging away tomorrow or Thursday too. And maybe I can winnow some of that weight off before the actual race. Maybe this is not just starting running again, it’s starting to be healthier again and I can get rid of the toddler weight once and for all.

ORN

The title above refers to what real runners call Obligatory Running Notes. It's a sort of training log that helps them get to and stay at the top of their form. Obligatory running notes for me are more an extended form of whining. ;-)

Today I ate 3(!) cranberry scones. They were totally delicious, not that I'm patting myself on the back or anything (although I am) since I made them from scratch all my little self with only the merest help from a recipe. Ok, a lot of help from a recipe. But they were too tempting to resist this morning. And after eating three of them, well, I felt compelled to run at least a mile for each extra scone I ate. Not that I probably even worked off the calories for even a quarter of one of those tasty buttery goodnesses. But I did actually push myself out the door so that's a plus.

On that note, when does "have to run" become "want to run" and please can't it come sooner rather than later because my own motivation doesn't seem to be standing me in particularly good stead these days.

Today's run offered a dilemma I haven't faced in quite a while. Sleeveless shirt to prevent the potential farmer's tan look or short sleeves to hide the mad flapping of the bingo wings on the undersides of my flabby, pasty, sunless arms? I love spring but the unveiling of the flesh is a bit distressing at the moment. (Multiple scones daily won't help that problem either.)

Not only do I need to start getting back into the running frame of mind, I really need to find someone to run with since company makes me happy. I didn't mind running alone when we lived in the frozen northland. I just got out and did it. And by doing it, I discovered a whole group of people with whom to exercise. I had H. for spin and tennis. I had M. and C. and J. for running in the evening and weekends. I had K. for running before school. I was spoiled beyond belief and it made me happy. And I ran a lot. I had running buds down here when we first got here but I stopped really running and now I can't keep up with them. I know all the runners in my neighborhood and they have always been way too fast for me (uh...Boston anyone?). And so having been spoiled, I am now finding it hard to get myself out there and go it alone. Dare I say it? Yes, I find my own company while exercising, dead boring. Running with myself is like being trapped in a conversation with a person who ignores all your social cues that you want to be released while you are too well-raised to walk away from them in mid-sentence. So you see my problem? Must get more interesting internal dialogue going on or look into hiring the crane to hoist me off my couch a couple of years (and several thousand scones) from now.

Now I'm off to the grocery store to buy bleach. Oh the exciting life I lead! Maybe I should have run there and back, although I suspect they frown on customers pulling sweaty money out of their bras to pay for their groceries. But I could have called carrying the bleach home while I ran a cardio-weight workout!

This is not a New Year's Resolution

It's way too far into January for even the most diligent of procrastinators (me) to claim it as one. It is, instead a declaration. A way to be held accountable (because heaven knows I need a whole stable of these sorts of things). I am publically affirming my need to change my life and my habits and get myself back on track, weight-wise and exercise-wise. I have let things slip the past year and a half and it's time to do something about that.

A little background. In 2007, I lost between 50 and 60 lbs. I did it on Weight Watchers. I hauled my butt out of bed on Saturday morning to go to an 8 o'clock meeting 15 minutes from my house. If that's not commitment, I don't know what is, especially when you consider the long and special love affair I have been conducting for most of my life with my bed and my pillow. No, I never practised kissing my pillow. I don't mean that kind of love affair! (Although I am getting the sudden urge to leave the computer and head upstairs to snuggle down in my covers.) I mean, I am the one who flat out told the swim coach in college that I wouldn't be coming to morning practice. No, I didn't ask. I told. And he never questioned me. Cursed me soundly probably, but... Anyway, so I lost this large amount of weight. And I started running and agreed to run a marathon and things were going really well. I could see my goal weight shimmering in the distance. I actually hit my college weight again. I looked pretty good, even if I still needed to lose a bit more.

And then we moved.

Yeah, I'll let that stand apart so it looks as stark as it felt. The move was a good one professionally for D. and I was on board. But moving does me in, each and every time. And we've done it enough for me to know this about myself. They say knowledge is half the battle, right? Yeah, um... not in this case. So even though I made new friends and continued training for my marathon, I gained weight. Yes, I actually gained weight training for a marathon. And not a pound or two of muscle. No, I actually packed on 20 pounds. This is not recommended. I am a professional stunt weight gainer on a closed track. Do not try this at home! Seriously, don't do this. It is very bad for you physically and emotionally. And you run a whole lot slower too. But moving does that to me.

So after the marathon was over, despite the fact that I loved the friends I met training for it (I trained through Team in Training and can't recommend them enough), I let my running taper off and finally stop altogether. After all, I no longer had any great need to give myself a pep talk and stumble out of bed to run at 6 or at 7am. And I had run a marathon. The whole thing. (Well, I walked *a little*.) So surely my fitness level wouldn't suffer if I took off a week, a month, 6 months, or more. Have I mentioned I'm very good at rationalizing things that are completely and totally delusional?

So that brings us to today. I sit here 20 pounds over the weight I was when I moved here, a couch potato of champion calibre. And I need to change this. It is a success that I only gained 20 of the 50+ pounds back. But that 20 pounds needs to go bye-bye now. And even before it goes, I need to redistribute the weight I do have so that it's not quite so Stay-Puft Marshmallow-y and the only way to do that is by exercising. So that's the deal. I will commit to more exercise and more mindful eating from now on into infinity.

And believe it or not, so I didn't have to feel like a total and complete loser when I wrote out how lazy and slack I've been, I actually did 10 slow sit-ups, 50 bicycle crunches, and held a plank for 1 minute. (More on this in a moment.) I also agreed to walk a half marathon this fall with a friend and to run a half with my little sister (she's gonna smoke my butt) in a year. I'm also about to agree to meet my running friends for a run Saturday morning. I may not go all 4 miles with them and I certainly won't be as fast as they are, but it will make me accountable and force me to pry myself out of the toasty warm coccoon of my bed, away from the soft heater pressed against my stomach that is the dog, and away from my loudly snoring husband. (Had to throw the last one in there so I didn't convince myself to just stay in bed.) And I might even go hog wild and enter a 5K in March so that I have something a little closer looming over my head with the spector of great humiliation behind it if I don't make and keep a real commitment.

So, do you believe the little bit of exercise so far this morning? I really did do it. Promise. I stopped at ten sit-ups because I do want to be able to get out of bed tomorrow morning without having to roll right over the edge. The bicycle crunches were a little gross as I got to watch my stomach accordian fold and pleat into itself over and over again. Makes me want to sew my mouth shut for the next eternity or so. As for the plank, I was pretty darn proud of myself that I actually held that sucker for a whole minute. My arms started shaking at 45 seconds and I actually started Lamaze breathing shortly thereafter. Didn't work to keep me from feeling the pain now either. But I did all this and might even do it again later tonight. Consider it my delayed bit of circuit training. ;-)

My ultimate goals? Get back into shape so that the only heavy breathing I'm doing is of the fun variety. Lose the 20 pounds I gained by the time I go on vacation this summer. That's four pounds a month. Seems reasonable enough. And once that 20 is gone, set a goal weight and really shoot for it. I know I can be singleminded (I can also be bloody minded but that's a whole different kettle of fish) and do this. Especially putting it out into blog land where everyone can see it.

So, if you know me in person, please don't put tasty looking hors d'ouvres down in front of me. I am an unconscious eater and will just clear the platter. Even worse, once I regain consciousness, I will look at the devastation I have wrought and think "Oh well. I'll just keep going then, shall I?" So put the good stuff quite a ways from me. The public humiliation of crawling over others to get to it should at least slow me down. You can, instead, put the veggie tray in front of me. I'm liable to clear it like a plague of locusts as well but I'm okay with that if you are. Also, don't be offended if I hie myself away from the interesting conversations in the kitchen. I am fairly simple and essentially lazy so if I am sitting away from the food and have to hoist myself out of the chair to actually walk over to the food, chances are inertia will win. See Mr. Hale? I *was* paying attention in physics all those years ago. Inertia is a very powerful force. And it should be used for good, not evil. ;-)

Well, I think that's more than enough for now. I thought about doing a daily update like in Bridget Jones' Diary but didn't want to bore you all stupid. I mean, my fragile ego can only take so many people unsubscribing from the blog. (And incidentally, someone did that just the other day, not that I am obsessing over it or anything, but why? Didn't you love me anymore? And yes, I know you won't even see this because, after all, you unsubscribed. But really, you couldn't even fake it and tell me that it was you not me? That I'm still great and all that jazz? **sob** No, don't worry, I'll eventually get over it.) So I think the daily update is out but feel free to nag the heck out of me if I haven't posted an update in whatever time frame you deem best for keeping me accountable. Tonight I crunch some more; tomorrow I run.

Abort! Abort!

Getting back into the swing of things is really tough after the holidays. It's even harder when it's cold. And boy howdy is it cold here. But I'm of hardy northern stock (plus I have some handy dandy cold weather running gear from when we lived in Michigan) and so I forced myself out of the nice cocoon of warmth in my bed, tore myself away from the furry snuggles of a contented dog, and kitted myself out as if I was going running in Antarctica. Yes, real, honest to goodness northerners (those whose blood hasn't been thinned by a move to more temperate climes--seriously, more temperate? I need to know when this is going to be more obvious since I'm missing the picture somehow) would have laughed their skinny, shivering butts off at me in my arctic togs.

I strapped on the GPS watch on one wrist and the brand spankin' new Road ID on the other and headed outside. Did I mention it was cold? Is it obvious yet that I didn't want to be doing this? So I bounced a bit to warm up, hit the start on the watch, and lumbered off. Not even two driveways down from my own, I had to give a mighty jerk to hike the pants back up where they belonged, having forgotten that they have a habit of sliding dangerously southward until I'm sweaty enough for them to stick and stay up. Then I made the mistake of glancing at the watch and seeing that the dadgummed thing apparently thought it was too cold also and thus hadn't started. My nose started to run and I'd forgotten the first rule of cold weather running: stash copious amounts of tissue into the pocket of your jacket for just such a situation (and while stuffing your bra might be the logical place for the tissues, it makes for soggy, salty, smelly tissues when you need to swipe at the candlewicks dripping down your face).

I was cold, my watch was non-functional, my pants were resolutely sliding down, and the snot was running out of my nose faster than I was running myself. So I hit a cul-de-sac and shuffled home, screaming "Abort! Abort!" in my head the whole way. I consoled myself by saying that I had probably gone a mile (in 3 minutes and 4 seconds according to the wonky, malfunctioning watch) but when I actually clocked the route later this afternoon in the car, I went a whopping half mile. Epic running fail! I swear I am my own worst enemy.

On the plus side, I actually did break a sweat so I will have to choose other pants tomorrow and whining about trying to run and hold pants bunched at your waist, even if only inside my own head, won't be able to be an excuse. Of course, tomorrow's supposed to be cold too and those are my only winter running pants. Somehow I suspect the thick layer of leg hair that I have been carefully cultivating isn't going to mimic the toastiness of the specially lined Antarctic gear. Of course, if these pants fall completely down and expose my nekkid butt to the elements and my long suffering neighbors, it'll be a really cold day in Hell--I'll keep you posted.

As for the rest of the day, well, I retreated to the couch, a down blanket, and a book. More my natural habitat you know, as my atrophied muscles adequately proved today.

Running: a new low

My running has officially hit a new low. No, it's not the fact that I seem to run once every several weeks or so (if you search through the sparse running posts on here, you'll find that's become kind of a theme). It's also not the fact that I am again carrying 20 pounds that I thought I'd seen the last of permanently. It's not the fact that I am slower than molasses in January at the North Pole (honestly, people out for a Sunday stroll probably saunter faster than I run at this point). It's not the fact that my 4 inch long leg hair created a *huge* wind drag (it's been a long time since high physics so just let me believe this please) or that all the jiggly bits of me wobbled alarmingly and at high frequency as I ran. Of course, none of those things help any. But I've hit a new low because I now spend my run creating Facebook statuses (or writing entire blog posts!) in my head.

Case in point: Today I went out to run for the first time in an eon because I have discovered a group of neighbors who are just starting out running and want to train for a 5K. They said I can join them on Mondays and Thursdays. I need all the incentive and help and comraderie I can get. So I thought I should get out there today and see how I feel. First I discovered that the iPod had lost its charge. Then I putzed around the house doing all sorts of odds and ends to put off the actual run. But I finally got out there. As I started out, my watch immediately beeped at me to slow down. When I'm in shape, I ignore it. Today, I cheerfully slowed way the snot down. Then as I tackled the first uphill (into the wind for added insult), I had to cough. Now the old bladder ain't what she used to be pre-kids. And so the lightbulb went on in my head that I had just come up with a good facebook status: "K. shouldn't cough and run at the same time. That's an accident no longer waiting to happen." (And yes, that is my current status because I like to overshare, especially if it earns me a laugh.) And that was that.

The rest of the run was spent coming up with status updates and once I realized that I could never contain all my thoughts in so brief a space, this blog post. Interestingly, you can track the run through the status updates I thought of as I plugged away. The above was followed by "K.'s legs feel decent but her lungs aren't happy." Then came "K. is very grateful that the uphill parts of this route are mostly on the way out. Coming back should be okay." Next was "K. should have pulled the covers back over her head when she talked herself into running this morning." Then "Oooo. A worm." (It rained here earlier today and I'm distractable; what can I say?) Next was, "K. knows it's a darn good thing she's on the return run." Followed closely by "K. wants to know when the slight downhills on the way out turned into nearly vertical, scaling Half Dome sorts of uphills on the way home?" Next was "K. thinks perhaps she should fork over the money for a Road ID for when some Good Samaritan finds her mute and gasping on the side of the road." (Incidentally mom, a RoadID would be a good present for both S. and me at Christmas.) Then was "K.'s children can skip backwards faster than she is currently running. Does it still count as running if this is the case?" Almost last was "K.'s extra 20 lbs. ::gasp:: makes for some seriously ::gasp:: awful chub rub." And finally was "K. hopes that they don't put her in her running clothes to bury her unless they are 110% certain she's going to end up in Hell. No wait, she's in Hell now." All my Facebook friends are currently wiping brows with relief that I can't mobile upload (never mind that my cell phone is never charged even if I had the app).

But I ran the whole route, which is more than I expected to be able to do when I set out. Granted it was a mere 2 1/2 miles, but hey. Beggars can't be choosers! Oh, there was one last status update: "K. is going to wring those little buggers' necks for eating all of the pretzels with Hugs and M&Ms." This last skittered through my very tired brain as I noticed the empty bucket in the freezer while scooping ice into my very large glug of water. Here's hoping tomorrow's company keeps me from being so, erm, creative in my thoughts!