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