Taking off the wait

Breakfast: check. Nap: check. Just about to watch my Rangers play a day game. Later, I need to make a casserole for potluck brunch tomorrow. What else did I do today? Oh yeah,

I ran 15 miles!

So, after my last update I got the week’s schedule and saw that we weren’t moving down mileage yet. I wouldn't have to wait for my chance after all. Why was this week’s run even more terrifying? Well, first off, I missed the entire training week due to my ankle. I decided that I should rest it if it was still hurting. Seems fairly logical, but I tend to be more of the it feels better today so let’s try it out kind of person. I didn’t want to make it worse though. I knew it was just a mild sprain – I would wait for it to heal. But time off makes me nervous. I know it was only a week, but I showed up for this morning’s run feeling out of shape and ill-prepared for what was ahead of me.

14.55 miles + 5 hill repeats is enough of a challenge without throwing up a mental barrier. I just kept telling myself time didn’t matter, but I would finish the miles. I will finish!

There’s something humbling about knowing that when I crossed that finish line today I would have still had 11 miles to go. But one giant mental road block at a time. I’ve checked this week’s plan now, so I can accurately say that we will be only running 12 miles + 5 hill repeats next week. But when we take on the 15-mile day in 2 weeks, I’ll know it’s just another pleasant Saturday run and I am strong enough to finish.

106 days to go

Watch out for that broken road!

About 1 mile in to my 13-miler today (and of course that’s a Luke’s 13, so really 13.77 plus 4 hill repeats, making it about 14.7 – but who’s counting), I stepped off the road onto the limestone gravel and rolled my ankle. It just stung a little at first, so I decided to shake it off and keep going. I took it easy on the hill repeats at mile 4.5 and then kept going with my group. I could tell my ankle was getting pretty sore and my knee was starting to hurt, telling me I was compensating and running with poor form. I was keeping up and pushing through, though, at least until we reached the hairpin turn. I literally had to hop on my left leg to make the turn.

So, when one of the girls said she wanted to cut the run short because she wasn’t feeling well and asked me if I wanted to head back with her, I said yes. It was probably stupid to push my ankle more if it was hurting and there were a lot of hills coming up on the route, but in hindsight I wonder if I could have made it through the run.

Today I would have passed my magic number – the longest run I would have recorded. I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve been able to reach any milestones or challenge myself since I haven’t been competing in races. So I was looking forward to today.

I think I’m at least partly aware of how ridiculous I sound as I’m resting here typing with my leg in a compression sock and my ankle propped up on a pillow and covered in ice, but I kind of wish I’d have kept going. Next week we’ll go back to 12 miles for a recovery long run (sort of oxymoronic, isn’t it?), so it will be 2 more weeks before I can take on my magic number on again.

One thing I know – I’ll be ready in two weeks. I won’t step off the road onto a rock. I won’t take it easy the week before. I will conquer those hills. I will make every twist and turn and hill of Sperry loop. I will bring it.

Today… RICE. Tonight… the ballgame. A girl’s got to keep her perspective.

113 days to go

Beyond reason

There comes a point in every long run when I wonder what the heck I’m doing out there. Very little of it makes sense, really. Waking up at 4:40. Putting my knees and ankles through the pounding routine. For that matter, paying to do all of it. Shoes. Races. Training. All for what?

Today we set out for a nice 12-mile run with 4 hill repeats. No problem. This week I was ready for those hills. I did seven hill repeats in training this week – the six required and an extra for good measure. Those hills were not going to beat me. I ate a banana before my run in hopes of not getting another never-ending leg cramp. I was going to knock out those 12 miles and not be last in my group. Except what was billed as 12 miles was really 12.7. Add in the hills and we were pushing 13.6. What the? How’s that fair? Like I said, it doesn’t always make sense.

But more than just a reason to get out and run, and maybe most importantly, there needs to be a reason to keep running. To keep running when the side stitches kick in at mile 9. To keep running when your watch says 12 and you’re nowhere near the finish. The worst – to turn right when you can see the lake straight ahead (which will get you to the finish) and it makes no sense to run the other direction. There has to be another reason to keep going other than your car being back at the starting line. Because, I’m pretty sure that if I’d lain down by the side of the path someone would have scooped me up and taken me back to my car.

So why keep going? Simple. It’s beyond reason. It makes no sense. Period. But for some reason I love it, and I keep doing it to myself. Pray for me. Better yet, let’s just hope the people who are ready to give up – at anything they might be doing – realize that sometimes it just doesn’t make sense. There may be no reason other than being able to look back and say, “I tackled that and I survived.”

120 days to go

Because my life is more than just running, I’m often forced to balance my schedule of work and home with my training routine. Just like anyone else out there who moves and breathes at the same time, I am often forced to make choices, to find my true priorities in life. As we’re getting closer to the audition dates for “Quilters”, I’ve been trying to decide if my mental and emotional capacity could withstand the additional load. I know that work will be very busy as we go into the annual finance campaign and I know that my mileage will keep getting steeper as the Rock gets closer. I was really struggling with whether or not I should even audition.

And then, because sometimes God knows we need help making decisions, Mike found out his reunion date – October 8 – which happens to be the final performance date of the show. So, it looks like we’ll be headed to San Francisco so I don’t have to head to auditions. Problem solved, right?

Sure… except now I have the overwhelming problem of focusing on what reunions mean. My 10th will follow Mike’s 20th by one week. Do I have far too many forehead wrinkles for a 28-year old? Have I accomplished everything I should have in 10 years? Am I the kind of woman people expected Mike to show up with at his 20th? Does any of that even matter? I’m sure the latter is the most important, but I’ve always been hyper focused on other people’s opinions.

To things I can control… I’ve found some great running routes in San Francisco and even an 8K race on the Sunday we’ll be there. Tonight I’m looking forward to a nighttime run around the lake. Life is good.

Cleansing thoughts

In no thanks part to my morning sludgery, yesterday I was forced to take my daily run to the afternoon streets. 15-minute warm up, 6 hill repeats, 30-min cool down, no less than 105 degrees. Even keeping to the shade – that was hot. When I was asked how my run was, the only word that came to mind was “cleansing”.

 

I’m pretty sure, if given the chance and proper hydration, I could sweat every negative thought and emotion out of my body. It was almost therapeutic. I almost enjoyed it. Almost.

And because I decided just five more minutes when my alarm went off at 4:40, I get a chance to do it all over again today. So, for my quick 55-minute jaunt down the Katy Trail, I will be channeling visions of saunas and relaxing spas and thinking about how cold it’s going to be on race morning in December. All I know is after barely making it through last Saturday’s training run, I will not fall behind. I may, however, reconsider this whole sleeping in thing – at some point the extra sleep just won’t be worth it.

Tomorrow is t-minus four months, but I’m still six weeks away from my next race. It’s time to get focused. It’s time to sweat away all the excuses and just run.

Countdowns

After last year’s migraine inducing July 27th meltdown, I pursued a different road this year. No year gets less painful, I don’t really expect them to, but whereas last year there was chaos and disorder (culminating with me actually miscalculating the number of birthday candles needed), this year was structured and planned bitter-sweet celebration. Like every year, I made strawberry cupcakes. But this year I kept myself busy all day – there was a staff birthday lunch and I went to volunteer with UrbanLife after work. I actually had to work in quiet alone time to be with my thoughts.

Really, it was a day like any other. Which, I guess is good. That was the point, I believe, for everyone involved to have a normal, happy life. But I can’t help knowing that she’s fading from my mind. It’s hard to imagine what a 5-year old would look like today based on pictures of an 18-month old. A 5-year old is a vibrant little person, full of energy with a personality that I can’t know or experience. I’m now resigned to a world of make believe and imaginings.

All this is to say… I’m okay. I really am. I know there is a piece of my heart that will always be broken, will always be missing. But I know that despite that brokenness, my heart still beats. I still love. I still celebrate life. I take these burdens of fears and these pains of memories, I put them in their own little place that’s become a part of who I am, and I keep moving forward. I know that each day she grows I grow – not apart, not side-by-side, but as individual identities that will never not be from the same source.

In a funny way, it’s a good thing for me to have a countdown timer that’s keeping me so focused. For years my life has pretty much revolved around counting down to July 27. Today, July 28, is not about counting down 364 more days. It’s about counting down to December 5 (oddly enough, Mike’s birthday), another day that I would have said would be impossible. It’s amazing how God works. The strength He supplies is never-fading.

130 days to go

A new running partner

Let me preface this posting with a mom warning (Mom, you might want earmuffs for this). Don’t know if earmuffs work for blogs, but the point is made.

Thursday afternoon I went and got a new tattoo that I designed and have been waiting to get for a couple of months. I wanted to get it to mark a very special five year anniversary of sorts as a way of keeping an important message and memory with me at all times. The trick was, since I got the tattoo on my rib cage I knew that my 10 miler this morning might be a little uneasy. I just had to make it through the pain.

My mom told me one time she figured my sister’s and my running ability came from our father. I told her it was more the ability to fight through pain and never quit that got us those miles (although athleticism doesn’t hurt). She agreed – that was something she knew about. Life gives us all sorts of obstacles, big and small. The only thing we can ask of ourselves is to hold strong to faith, to believe in God and hope for the best. We will have fights to win and hills to climb – battles that will knock us down and almost out. But we hold on to those who love us and keep moving. And we should carry those battle scars with honor, for they were not easily earned.

Turns out, even with the pain, it was a great running day. My first sub-9:00 10 miler! 8:50, as a matter of fact. I promise not to get that tattooed anywhere, though.

134 days left to go.

Falling off the surrey

I promise I have not fallen off the wagon. The past couple of weeks, with dress rehearsals and performances, have left little time for self reflection and blogging, but I’ve been getting some limited weekday miles in and making my Saturday group runs. Last weekend we breezed through 7.5 miles. Yesterday I clogged out 9 miles – I think it was at least 90 plus humidity, blazing sun and level orange smog – and didn’t even finish last in my group. It’s the small victories, I guess. Of course, Saturday morning was painful on more than just the my-legs-only-pounded-out-seven-miles-this-week way. After our Friday night performance, which Mike and Jeff came to, I climbed into bed after 12:30. I set the alarm clock for 4:30 and prayed for sleep. We were awoken at 2:30 to flashing lights in our bedroom window. I didn’t hear sirens, so I was pretty confident our house wasn’t on fire, but I wasn’t sure about the neighbor’s. Turns out it was just a tow truck – an obnoxious and inconsiderate one, but just a tow truck. Okay, not a fire. Back to sleep.

I only mention this all as a reminder to myself the when “Quilters” rolls around in a couple of months and I’m thinking about auditioning I remember the long nights and difficulty finding time to run. Those training miles mid week are invaluable in keeping me on track, both mentally and physically.

On a positive note, I am officially registered for White Rock! I submitted my registration with a 4:30 goal finish. So, I guess that makes me all in. Finish line here I come!

Tonight’s the final performance of “Oklahoma!” and I’m ready to get back into my routine. But it’s certainly going to require me to work past those little excuses. I know that life can get busy and schedules can feel too crowded, but knowing that I’m on my way to achieving a major goal in my life – that should be enough to keep me moving one foot forward at a time.

140 days to go!

I can pencil you in…

That whole idea of running without the weight of the world seems really hard sometimes. Especially when my days look like this and my weeknights look like these.

I do it to myself. And I really do enjoy my extracurricular activities. But I’m gearing up for that there’s-not-a-single-moment-for-me-or-us time. Breathing and just being in some quiet will never be more important.

Tonight I’m going to squeeze in a 5.5-miler before a Luke’s social and OK rehearsals all while battling the hurricane Alex related storms. Just another day in paradise. Bring on the rain!

Running free

I broke from the pack this morning to do a tempo run, so unlike last week I wasn’t as swept up in panic and frantic chaos (even if most of it was in my head.) And what did the solitude leave me with? Just me. My breath, my footsteps, my key rattling in my pocket – just me. There was no top 100 hit pumping me up and keeping me motivated. No chit chat for my eavesdropping pleasure. Just me – and maybe some frogs and birds and the occasional passerby.


Luke’s wants us to run without headphones: one, it makes us more observant and therefore less likely to get flattened by a car or bike; and two, so that we can be part of the group. Mission two fail. But I did successfully finish without being run down! In adjusting to my new quiet runs, I have noticed a couple of differences. The biggest might be that I’ve stopped running with my knee band. I used to require support for my runner’s knee, but lately I’ve been running fine without it and with no pain. Could it be that by focusing on me and not being distracted has adjusted my stride and made me run with less pain? Maybe, or maybe my legs are just stronger. I’m becoming very aware of my pace. Some days it’s nice – and necessary, like on tempo days – but it takes me away from breath energy and stride focus when every 14 steps I have to look down at my watch and check my pace or distance. I’m also becoming more aware of my to-do lists. I’ve gained a whole hour of thinking time, which certainly isn’t the point. At least I don’t think it is.


I read a great article in Runner’s World about meditative running back in May. At the time, I remember thinking how cool that would be and how much I would like to incorporate that into my running style, but it’s really hard to stop the inner dialog and just be. Away from the world, the fears, the doubts, the distractions, just me running free.


158 days, 913 miles to go

Identity

We’ve been waiting to receive our running groups – the 20 or so souls we would be hitting the pavement with for the next 5½ months. So far we’ve just been doing evaluation runs on Saturday mornings, both of which I ran at about a 9:40 pace. But this week I finally found out who I was – I am a Green 1. I pretty much figured I’d be a green or a yellow – I knew blue would be too fast and red would be a little too slow. I’ve embraced the fact that I’m a pretty average, middle of the pack runner. Slow and steady – that’s been my identity. So, when I read Green 1, I figured that’s probably low 9s, and I’ll admit I was a little intimidated by that thought. Could I keep up with low 9s, or would they know I wasn’t one of them?

So, bright and early this morning (okay, dark and early), I got to the meet up point and started looking for my new support group. I saw red signs. I saw yellow signs. No green. I’ll just go over here and stretch. And then, across the crowd, green, I see Green 1. I casually scooted into the circle. They mostly looked like me, they weren’t all 1% body fat and standing about half naked in 3 inch long jogging shorts. I could be one of these people, and then I read the sign. 8:01-9:00. GULP! Quick pull your eyes back in your head before they notice. Remember, they can smell fear! I tried to calmly chuckle out, “That’s a bit faster of a pace than I thought I be grouped with.” Fortunately I heard at least a couple of “me too’s”.

I left the house this morning without my watch, so I have no idea what pace we ran. My guess, probably low 9s. I kept up with the group, though – most of them anyway. This could be good. I do perform better when I’m being pushed to keep up. But there’s a big difference between running 5 miles at sub 9 and running 12 miles sub 9. I just have a hard time seeing myself as a sub 9-runner.

It’s weird the way we identify ourselves. It must be self-doubt taking over. I know the difference between modesty and self-deprecation. This feels like the latter. Here’s what I know… I’ve never been strong enough to accomplish anything on my own, but there isn’t a thing I haven’t been able to survive. My strength is in God, and one way or another I will cross that finish line – under 9 or not.

Rabbits and sheep and runners, oh my!

I was up and at ’em this morning to meet the Wednesday morning RA group. Got there just in time to stretch a bit then take off – like a rocket. A big group of runners left, about 10-15 stayed behind. I couldn’t help wondering as I took off, should I have stayed? Am I one of those people? Oh well, too late now. Not sure who the other group was, but I learned quickly there wasn’t anyone in my pace group running with me. I was chasing rabbits the whole time, but it did keep me moving. Mainly I had to keep my pace up because I had no idea where I was going and was afraid I’d lose sight of the group. From somewhere behind me, although I’m not sure how, another runner came up alongside me. He obviously recognized my greenness and chatted with me for a bit before taking off again. I reached the turnaround, still a bit behind the pack but I kept most of them in my sights. We pulled off the running path and headed into a neighborhood, and I noticed the group was slowly thinning. Where were people going? Did they have their own ways back? Did I start following random people? Is the girl I’ve been tailing now getting nervous and wondering who this creepy girl is panting behind her?

And then that same guy pulled up alongside me again. We chatted. I told him I realized I was the only one in my pace here and was just trying to keep up. He said he’d run with me to the split so that I could find my way back. Runners can be such friendly people. He informed me the group I took off with was actually the Park Cities running group, not my Luke’s group. Oops! Who knew there were so many runners out there? I tried to not let on that I was a lost sheep. He probably knew though, which is probably why he was shepherding me.

Up side? Rabbit chasing got me a nice pace. Once I get to know some more faces, maybe I’ll figure out when I’ve lost my way. It is nice to know that if I get a little tired of the RA route I can switch it up. Of course, I’ll actually have to run it a few times before I can get in a rut. At least now I know someone in the other group. Tomorrow… the group I know… and the HEAT!

165 days, 927 miles to go

It's just now Summer?

The first day of summer. In Texas. Running outside. Just remember... I'll miss these days in December.

What better way to celebrate the summer solstice than with a pre-sunrise run. It’s pretty nice to be able to knock out a five mile run before the day even gets going. It’s also nice to head off to work knowing that I’ve already accomplished something today. Of course being half brain dead and half heat stroked might have lead to my inability to find my keys this morning. But it’s a give and take. Today, it took.

In an interesting bit of irony, my celebration may have been a little off, as I learned today that the word solstice derives from Latin sol (sun) and sistere (to stand still). But what fun is it to stand still? Catching a little bit of stillness this week will be nice though, since this is my last light week before “Oklahoma!” rehearsals pick up. Tomorrow is a rest day, then Wednesday I’m thinking about checking out the 6 a.m. run. It’s a 6-miler down the Katy Trail. I’m just now starting to get the hang of this early morning thing. Mainly, I’m trying to make a concerted effort to run outside instead of the treadmill – two really tough habits to break.

Training miles are finally starting to pick up! Oh, and I updated the page's look and added a countdown timer!

167 days, 932 miles to go

A family affair

This weekend was off to an exciting start. My sister Amy had a little girl on Friday afternoon, Rowan – she’s a cutie by the way – so I got to spend some family time Friday night. Then, my dad joined me for my Saturday morning run. Two items of great note: First, I successfully woke up at 4:40 again. Second, it’s really fun to make running a family affair. Not sure where it is on my dad’s list of Father’s Day memories, but getting to enjoy a quick 4-miler with him was pretty cool.

Back in April, my family attempted to run a half marathon together. We were all going to run a race down in Houston together, but thanks to some awesome Bon Jovi tickets from my husband, we couldn’t make it down to Houston. So, we all ran together in spirit – me and Mike in Dallas and Dad and Emily in Houston. My sister finished her run in about 2:00, I crossed at 2:05 and my dad rocked a 2:09. Pretty solid for the Frye family! But I missed out on that once in a lifetime bonding moment there. A four-mile run certainly isn’t a half marathon complete with photo ops and medals, but it’s still a memory I wouldn’t have thought I’d have about a year ago.

Tonight Mike and I will run a couple of miles together as a great capper to a family filled weekend.

168 days, 939 miles to go.

Sounds like...

My local chapter of runners anonymous met tonight. We met up for a nice social run, a quick four miler, at 6 p.m. I didn’t bother checking the temp, but I’m going to guess 96. See, nice. There’s a reason we’re all crazy.

After our run there was a kickoff party, so it was nice to be able to meet some people. I even got to talk to some of the shoe guys about my aching foot. They said, sounds like the beginning of plantar. Plantar fasciitis, good grief. At least they said stretching my calf well and icing after running should help.

Now, it sounds like the vacuum’s running. I’m pretty sure that as I’m sitting here typing my husband is downstairs cleaning. Does that mean I’m falling behind on my household and wifely duties with all this running? Am I a horrible person who can’t keep her life in balance? Maybe it’s just halftime in the basketball game. Ok. I’ll go see if I can help.

171 days, 943 miles to go.

Something's missing

After sleeping it off and gaining a little perspective, I realized I might be grieving a little today. Every day, since October 24, 2009, I’ve been training to run a half marathon. I’ve absolutely fallen in love with the distance, the trill of training for a race and the energy of race day. Five half marathons in exactly six months, it’s really been dominating my life.

Now today, I wonder when my next half marathon will even be – certainly not before February. I’m going to miss my favorite little race. Of course, I’ll have plenty to train for with the big race coming up, but it’s going to feel weird. I know that I’ll be running a 20K in September, but I imagine that might be my only race before December 5. Maybe I can sneak in the DRC Half in November. I guess the most important thing will be training right for White Rock. Small personal sacrifice will be worth it.

I’m sure once my runners anonymous group gets in full swing I won’t feel like something’s missing. Right?

Number 5 down, thankfully

Today was a very important learning experience. First, not every race can be a new personal record. The thing I love the most about running, though, is the fact that the only thing that can stop me from finishing is me. So, I learned the value of perseverance, through the heat, the wind, the humidity, the burning leg pain, through it all.

If you had asked me headed into the race if I would have been happy with a 2:10 finish, I would have said no way. Remember that fear of not having trained hard enough? Boy did that come back to get me! As I trailed away farther and farther back from the 2:00 group that I started with, I just kept thinking… it’s okay. 2:05 is okay. Then the 2:10 group passed me, and I was still halfway from home. My legs felt like they were on fire, but I knew if I just kept moving I’d get there (and before the 2:20s at least.) Suddenly, with two miles to go, I was passed by the 2:20 group – they looked like their legs were so fresh they’d just started and like they were running in 20 degrees cooler weather.

Just keep moving. Just keep moving. Strength. Endurance. I figured maybe if I just kept smiling I might be able to trick my legs into feeling better. If anything, at least there will be good looking pictures of me from the course. As I rounded the corner to mile 13, all I could think was Mike would be there. He’d just fought his was through his first 10K. He knew the exact heat and sore legs I was battling. I just had to get to him. We’d get across that finish together. And there he was. And together we ran.

It might not have been my best race. Heck, there’s still time, it might not be my worst. But I’ll tell you, maybe with the exception of my first White Rock half, no finish has ever felt better. I honestly feel like I earned every foot of those 13.1 miles.

Before the dawn

This is what my feet look like at the lake at 5:40 a.m. Not bad, huh? I mean, they’re vertical. Or is it I’m vertical and they’re horizontal. Either way, my feet and I were there at the lake at 5:40 a.m. So it is now official, well, even more official. I’m now officially training for the White Rock Marathon. Now there are people who will hold me accountable, and will expect me to do the same for them. I’m no longer on this road on my own. The next big step will be conquering my treadmill addiction. Or crutch, maybe it’s a treadmill crutch. I’ll make an effort to get on the road more often, that’s all I can promise for now.

Tomorrow morning is race time! I think I’ll get to sleep in a little. 4:40 came pretty early today. Maybe I can sleep in until 5:15! “Oklahoma!” rehearsals after a 3 miler will feel a lot different from “Oklahoma!” rehearsals after 13. Hope my legs hold up!

177 days, 963 miles to go

Runners Anonymous

Today was a pretty exciting day, in the world of a new runner anyways. First, I picked up our bibs for race day. I’m pretty sure major dork-alert alarms must go off when I go to packet pick up. It’s like this strange childhood exuberance akin to Christmas morning meets the mystery grab bag prize at Putt Putt. Like I said, dork alert! But getting to hold my bib in my hands and riffle through my packet in search of its hidden treasures is almost as fun as crossing the finish. Almost.

And then, as if that weren’t enough excitement for one day, I attended my orientation for my new running club. It was like attending my local chapter of runners anonymous – people gathered together confessing how many years they’d been on the wagon, how many races they’d notched in their bed posts. I was surrounded in a room of my peers. An entire room of crazy people just like me, people terrified of that first 3 mile run, people pushing themselves to that first 13.1, people insane enough to tackle their first 26.2, people just looking for company along the road.

Next meeting of my local RA chapter… 6 a.m. Saturday morning. That’s 0600, in the morning. Yikes! Hope my excitement carries me enough. It’s just another new habit I look forward to forming.

179 days, 966 miles to go

Butterflies

I’m entering that anxious little countdown period before race day. It usually consists of the feeling that I’m way out of shape and am really going to struggle to get to the finish. I certainly haven’t been slacking off since my last race, but I always feel like I haven’t trained quite hard enough. I’m really trying to avoid that feeling headed into the marathon in December, but I’m already 14 miles behind where I’m supposed to be on my training schedule.

A couple of things have contributed to my shortfall.
1. I’m human – and therefore innately lazy. We’ve already learned I love the snooze bar. It’s also sometimes not as much laziness as it is prioritizing different things. I’m trying to keep a balance in my life and don’t always succeed at that.

2. I’ve been listening to my body. This is a relatively new thing for me. I usually try to tough my way through pain, tell myself that it will go away after another mile. But after dealing with a lingering hip flexor and an aching quad for long enough, I now try to nip injury in the bud. I think it’s my new shoes, but my right arch has been giving me some grief, which is also causing my calf to tighten up. All that’s to say – I’d like to use this body for a long time, so I better take care of it.

I’ve got two make-up days scheduled this week, so I’ll be able to knock out seven miles, and I’ll grab three more this weekend at my race. So before you know it, I’ll only be back four miles. I can deal with that.

Tomorrow’s bib day – cue the excited nerves.

180 days, 970 miles to go

Milestones

Today Mike and I are celebrating our second anniversary. We’ve shared some fun memories and events, but nothing has been more fun (or made me more proud) than watching Mike take up running with me. This Sunday, while I’m completing my fifth half, Mike will be conquering his first 10K. I only wish I could be there to watch him cross the finish line.

I’ve been looking into running groups as I’m beginning my training for the full in December. It’s amazing the difference a great training partner can make. The best races I’ve run have been when I had someone to run beside, someone to distract me or keep me focused, someone to make me laugh or push me to the end.

I think that’s life. We could do this one our own, I suppose. But having my best friend right alongside me, it just makes every day of life enjoyable. I can’t wait for the day Mike’s ready to run alongside me, or even better, the days I have to push myself to keep up with him. For now, I’ll try to be the best cheerleader a runner/walker can have – just like he was my greatest fan when I started this crazy journey.

182 days, 974 miles to go

Like a trusty barstool

One thing about this new running habit is my new affinity for the gym. I originally joined to escape the very wet fall we were having last year. Now, it’s saving me from the heat. This weekend we’re supposed to hit 100, and before it’s officially “summer”. Anyway, that’s off topic. I was discussing the gym. It’s less of an affinity more of an addiction. I need it in my day. The sanctuary of sweat and exhaustion. There’s something very therapeutic about having a place to go, a transition, between work and home. There are far fewer times that I come home exhausted and warn down from my day, no matter how hard I work myself there.

The other day on Facebook I was venting about the heat at my office, “headed to the gym at lunch just so I can have some air conditioning. Office already reads 78, and that's before the afternoon sun.” One of the women from church, who knows of my treadmill addiction, responded, “I guess you deserve to sit on the treadmill at the gym!” which I found pretty funny. I probably do deserve to rest, but I decided to try out some new exercises instead. Anyway, I responded back that the treadmill has been like a trusty barstool. (I do really appreciate my desire to run to the gym to relieve stress and get some air rather than running across the street to some bar, like I might have in my glory days.) Then, ironically, when I went back to the gym later after work (yes, I went twice in one day. See paragraph 1 – it’s an addiction.) I saw the regular lunch guy at the check-in desk along with my regular afternoon guy. It was like some weird parallel universe – we each wondered what the other was doing there so late in the day. They were teasing me that someone was on my treadmill. Then he said, “We’re like your Cheers!”

It certainly is nice to have a place to go where everybody knows your name, and which treadmill is yours, and don’t care if you eat your lunch at your desk to get an extra break away from the world that day. There are certainly worse addictions to have.

186 days left, 981 miles yet to run

Making it happen

Something that I struggle with every morning, regardless of it being a morning I’m supposed to get up and run or not, is that energetic, spring-out-of-bed mentality. There are times when I know I need to get up, I know that something is waiting for me, someone is counting on me, and so I get up with little resistance, often before my alarm even goes off.

When Mike and I were on a mission trip a couple months back, I would wake up before my alarm, often an hour early, with excited, anxious anticipation. Saturday mornings when I’m supposed to meet people to volunteer or I have a choir rehearsal, no problem. Race days – I can’t wait to get up.

So where is that excited, anxious anticipation in my everyday life? I have something waiting for me. My job. My sneakers. I have someone counting on me. ME. And for someone who is a tough critic of herself and has at many times disappointed herself, shouldn’t that be enough?

Maybe where I’m falling short is how I’m valuing things. In mission and service I’m seeing my efforts have an impact. It’s my chance to brighten up the world. Race days give me a chance to challenge myself, to push myself, and they’re days that it’s just me against me. It seems to often that the “everyday” just pulls me down. Life gets in the way of me being able to live. Why is that? Why do I let that happen?

Let’s see if I can’t challenge myself to find the challenge and value in each “everyday” day.

Today’s miles: 5 Days left: 190

Rest

A day of rest. In the midst of training, in the midst of life, we all need time to rest. We’re headed into a holiday weekend. An extra day off and time to renew. Last week, between the final week of the show (I was in a play called “Anatomy of Gray”) and the full load at work, I let busyness overwhelm me. I neglected time with my husband and time with myself. My training schedule went out the window. My routine went out the window. And guess what, so did my spirit. I could tell I didn’t have the same life in me.

The art of balance is such an evasive dream. We aspire to be everything to everyone. Ultimately, I must, we all must, surrender to that fictitious divinity. I can only ever be me. I can push myself to be stronger, to endure more, to be more. I can push myself to be faster, smarter, sharper, more alert. But I cannot ever be perfect. Not in this life.

And so, to be stronger, I rest.

Day 3

Today, in my Nike inbox, I had a message. “Congratulations on passing 500 miles! Keep on running!” It’s completely amazing to think that I’ve already reached that marker after starting running in the fall of last year. When I think back to my first day of “running” all I can remember is how bad I was and how little I felt I’m accomplished.
August 28, 2009 – I remember setting out to complete two miles – down to the little pond and back. I walked about ¾ of a mile then jogged the rest. My pace: 12 minutes, 34 seconds per mile. That was 26 minutes and 15 seconds of wondering if I’d made a huge mistake. But I kept on pushing myself. If I did .2 miles running on Monday, I wanted to do .25 miles of running Tuesday. Mainly I never gave up. I knew that the only thing that could keep me from finishing the 10K I was originally training for was me. So today I celebrate and just keep on running.

Day 2

This morning I had a quick run around the neighborhood park, just me and the early morning Texas sun. I’m surprised I don’t run in the morning more often, the sky’s pink. The air around me is quiet. It’s almost like God’s surrounding me with some of my favorite things, just inviting me to soak it in for a little while. Something to remember as I’m running franticly through my “real” life. Just breathe in the beauty around me.

One Foot in Front of the Other

I printed out something very exciting, and yet somewhat terrifying, today… my full marathon training program. 28 weeks. 195 days. 1,000 miles.

In three weeks I will complete my fifth half marathon in six months. That sentence right there is mind boggling to me. Especially since one year ago the thought of running a mile was so unfathomable it was laughable.

This is the story of what motivation can do. It can trick you into strength. It can keep you in bed. Leave you on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. Or drive you to the finish line after a grueling mile of struggling to breathe.

This is the story of the sweat, tears, blood and cheers of a new runner and the quest that we all share… finding the strength to get through each day, one foot in front of the other.

Day 1:
Already behind on my first goal – go for a run at 6 a.m. It’s a tough call… beat the Texas heat or beat the snooze bar one more time. Maybe I need some kind of motivation? Some new fangled carrot. Give me a couple of hours to ponder that. No excuses today though. I’m not getting behind before I even start.

Today’s scheduled milage: 3 mi (8 mi if you ask my overlapping half program) – we’ll aim for 5 to split the difference