Just a post about a run

I am, still, after four years of running, completely suprised at how the simple act of moving through the world on my own two feet at a pace of my own choosing can make me makes me so strong, so powerful.

I worked from home today, and just before lunch, laced up my running shoes and headed out the door. Spring has reared her head here, so things are greening and blooming and it was cool and breezy, and bright and clear. Perfect running weather. I dragged out my garmin forerunner for this run, because I at least wanted to know how far I went, regardless of the pace. Technically, Mondays are supposed to be recovery runs for me (which would imply I did something on Sunday to recover from) but I didn't run this weekend, I rode both horses on Sunday, and while my core and abductors are very sore, running doesn't ease riding soreness. So off I went.

I made up the run as I went along. Since I was running along the main road in front of my neighborhood, I left the IPOD at home. I got some running advice from a guy picking up his mail "pick your knees up a little higher", was told to be careful by a guy on a bike, and my personal favorite, was yelled "what are you training for?" by a guy at a stop sign, I smiled waved, and yelled back "the rest of my life". Yeah, I know, totally corny. I couldn't help myself.

Some runs are just like that.

Just a post

In about 3.5 hours I'm running a 10K in a neighboring town. The group that organized the 8k turkey trot I did organizes a bunch of smaller local races - races I didn't know about until after that Thanksgiving Day race. I sat down with their website last week and entered random races over the next couple of months. Since my dog training situation is suddenly vastly different than it's been for the last year plus, my weekends just got a whole lot roomier. I see more running and more horses in my future. This is not a bad thing but it feels weird, for sure.

I'm thinking pretty seriously about getting a part time job. If nothing else it would finance my dog training trips to Pennsylvania. I'm feeling a little greedy when I consider having TWO jobs when so many are losing their jobs, but I'm hoping that greedy feeling will pass as I watch my dog learn under the capable (and considerably more gentle) hand of this trainer.

I am in the process of becoming (hopefully) a Weight Watchers leader. I lost nearly 47lbs using Weight Watchers, and don't mind pimping them. Weight Watchers isn't a flashy program, Jillian Barberie, Marie Osmond and Wynona Judd are NOT involved. It's truly the program of 'eat right and exercise' and that's kind of boring, but it is truly the only thing that works, long term. I don't think I know everything about the program, but I certainly absorbed everything I could and I am a believer. I was completely, and utterly frustrated at being in my late 30's and able to own and run a home, hold down a job, take care of cars and finances and animals and friends and travel and running but somehow I couldn't get a grip on how to lose weight and keep it off. That frustration drove me to that first meeting well over a year ago.

About a month ago I stopped in to my meeting to record my once a month weight and walked into a new group member talking to our group Leader and dissolving into tears. I went to make a quick escape and she asked me to stay. She apologized and before I could form the thought I told her to stop, that I didn't know a single woman who hadn't cried over her weight. After 15 minutes or so of talking, she left and my Leader, the woman who helped me so much, told me that was about the nicest thing she had heard one member tell another. She planted the seed, and now it's a vile, wicked, unpluckable weed.

Recently in another, much more dangerous, situation I had the opportunity to help someone, a complete stranger in fact, and I followed my heart and my gut - they both told me it was the right thing to do. So, I did. When that person expressed concern that she was being perceived as soliciting help, I told her the truth. When things were at the darkest in my life a complete stranger stuck out their hand.
I owe.

Yes, the two situations are completely different and only in the extreme is weight loss life threatening, but who am I *not* to help when I can, whatever the situation?

It's the person in the second situation I'll be thinking of this morning during my run. She may be running as well this morning, and no doubt with a heavier heart and load than I will. It's going to be a beautiful day here in my corner of the world, I hope it's as beautiful where she's headed today.

Junk drawers

Today, I came up close with my junk drawer. The real one in my kitchen, and the one in my head.

To be honest, I have way more than 1 junk drawer in my kitchen, but I TRY to keep one full of all the cords and chargers for the electronic crap I own. Thankfully the good people that make all those cords put the name of the device on the charger making it easy for me to identify what cord goes to what small metal object I can't live without. Otherwise, I'm fairly certain I would have blown up/burned out all of these little electronic things I own.

Rifling through one of them today, I ran across my Garmin. I bought this when I first moved to NC, HAD to have it...and I did use it, for about 3 months. It has a setting where you can tell the garmin how fast you want to run, and it will yell at you in electronic fashion, when you are going too fast, or too slow. I *thought* I would like that, I did NOT. It did keep track of my pace, and my miles per week. I also found, in my drawer, two stop watches and two heart rate monitors.

I closed the drawer without removing any of it, and drove to a neighboring town for my run. I couldn't find my running schedule, but I thought I was down for 4, maybe 5. I ran 6. It was one of the best runs I've had in a long while. The night before I had read an article about negative self talk - the article was about weight loss and self-sabotage, not running, but it applies to running, plenty of people tell me they don't run, because the "can't". I've always wondered where that comes from.

As I started tonight, unfettered by worry about heart rates or splits or even just pacing, I wondered if I had negative self talk ahead, so I let the thoughts roll through.
I always think of Al D. when I run. He was a friend of my brothers and a multiple IRONMAN, Al used to tell me to 'just keep putting one foot in front of the other', as I came up a small hill, my head jumped to 'this ain't no E. Maple Avenue', my predawn running days in Sterling at Chrismas with all those gigantic blow up grinches and santas and the like, the first time I ran 10 miles by myself, crossing the bridge over route 28 and listening to Eye of the Tiger, I thought about my dogs, my family, my potential Thanksgiving plans, realized my tennis shoes matched my shirt and shoes, felt like a dork for matching, saw a cairn terrier on the trail and wondered when Wizard of Oz would be on TV again, wondered how I was going to discreetly dislodge my running shorts wedgie, and realized I left wet laundry in the washer.

I'm no Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm, and I'm fairly certain I've run into negativity when running before. I just can't remember it very clearly. One of my running coaches told me during marathon training to check myself. Lungs ok? Legs ok? Are you hurt? Or is this just hard? Those four little checks are all I've needed. That last one, it's the kicker. Running is sometimes hard, but I *can* do hard things. Hard is not impossible.

I had new music for my run, because there are some electronic devices I can't give up., some of it made me laugh, I believe Pink's "leave me alone tonight" is very possibly my new theme song (that is, if I had an old one, this would replace it) and some of it made me sad, some of it pushed up the hill and to run hard for the last .25 miles. Train like you'll race, Cravey.

There's been a lot of JUNK in my life lately. I've been stressed out, angry, frustrated, tearful, regretful, over-tired, scared, restless, losing sleep, and downright cranky. I am sick of it. I do not now how to deal with most of the things that are working me over like a loser in the UFC octagon. Most of it is unchartered territory for me. I am angry that I am letting myself be so affected by all of this STUFF.I am disappointed that I can't look at the rest of my life, at all of the great, wonderful, fantastic, things and people I have surrounded myself with and AM truly grateful for.

Running usually clears my head and helps me better prioritize my junk drawer, I don't know yet, if that happened tonight, I just know I desperately want to close the damn drawer and walk away from it.

A little race, a lot of heart.

Race day.
I got up and went to meet my friend, the one I started on the Couch to 5k running program. Three months ago, she selected this day, this race, as her target for running and completing her first ever 5k. She wasn't completely finished with the program, hadn't yet run 30 minutes straight, but she was determined, and in running sometimes, that's all it takes.

She selected the Race for the Cure here in Raleigh. A race this year that registered 25,000 runners/walkers/run/walkers. The environment is wonderful at these races, lots of crowd support, runner support, and the survivors. Wow. If you can't get inspired here, you are a soul-less pit.

We watched the road fill with other runners behind us, for a full quarter mile, women lined up. B lost her mom five years ago to breast cancer. I knew she was battling more than nerves before a race, saw her eyes linger on mom-daughter pairs and couldn't think of one thing to say. I watched as women lined up all around us with names written on them, the names of women lost, women still fighting, women they hope will never have to fight.

Her plan was to run intervals, 10 minute runs, 2 minute walks. She wanted more, but she didn't want to disappoint herself so she set her goals low, and I knew, hoped she'd be able to run every step.

At 7:50, we started, dealt with the massive crowd and then broke out and ran. I knew we were running much faster than she had ever trained 2 minutes into it. I told her to set the pace, and I'd stay with her. She did. At 8 minutes I could feel her losing speed, her breathing getting labored. We walked at 10, about halfway up the first hill. She was winded and as I looked over to check on her, disappointed. We topped the hill, and saw our first mile marker, and our time. I didn't say anything, but mentally noted that were almost a full two minutes ahead of her 'average' pace. We ran again. More hills, and in 5 minutes and at the bottom of another hill, she needed a break. We walked up the hill, ran down it and more. We didn't make the full 10 minutes and I saw her disappointment in herself grow. She said "I didn't want to walk this much". I don't know what got her up again, words of encouragement, the kids with supersoakers shooting at us, the B52's blaring from someones porch, the wonderful volunteers at the water stops, or if she just found something down deep where those things live. Whatever it was, she picked up her head, and got to stepping again.

More hills, more struggle, not enough water, but she kept stepping.

At the last half mile mark, I wanted to cry, she had worked so hard, and I could see the emotion rise in her when she realized we were almost back to the start.

At the quarter mile mark, her tears came but she ran faster, and harder, finishing strong and a full 7 minutes faster than the girl had ever completed 3.1 before.

Here's to you, B, to a run you can be proud of, and for being the kind of woman that sets a goal, fights for it, even when it's hot and hard, and doesn't quite come out the way you had hoped.

Youur mom isn't the only person who's proud of you.

The return of an old friend

For the last few months, in the back of my head I've been reminding myself on a daily basis that I ran a marathon in 2005. That not only did I run 26.2 miles, but I did everything that goes along with the actual race, ie the training. FIVE MONTHS OF TRAINING.

This fall was going along nicely. I was training for the Raleigh half, I was working through the umpteenth injury of year, but I was still putting them down. Then the stupid toe thing happened and it blew my long run mileage off the map, and I was out for the race. The "toe blow" wasn't just physical in fact, it's what it did to me mentally that had had me chanting the marathon mantra. It was really getting me down. I missed running. The first frost came and my brain immediately went to how much I love frosty early morning runs ...and I was quietly snarky about the runners I'd pass to and from work each day.

Last week, I went for a run. Three miles after work one day. It was rocky. I felt rhythm-less in breath and pace, and awkward (feelings I usually reserve for dancing). Friday night I ran again. It was awful. Painful. Breathless. Slow. N.e.v.e.r.e.n.d.i.n.g... and it was only 3 miles.

Tonight I laced my shoes and set IPOD playlist and hit the road. Just three miles was the goal. Running normally clears my head. Not tonight. The thoughts came as fast as Rage Against the Machine's Township Rebellion and with it the 2 mile mark. Two more RATM songs and I'm at 3 miles. I'll just run til I hear Lenny Kravitz tell me he can't breathe without me., that's worth running a few more minutes, so is hearing my favorite song lyric ever - 'first one to complain leaves with a blood stain' .. yeah, I'll just run to the end of this song, I love running when Christmas lights are up, man my hair is getting long, I wonder what 2008 will bring, I really wish I had some pie at home, okay, just one Manson song, how do you *not* run during 'The Beautiful People'.. and then there it was the 5 mile mark. Enough.

My pace is slower than it was three months ago.
It was only 5 miles.
But I found it again, the reason I love running.
Running doesn't let me take it for granted. It gives me what I give it. No more, no less. It kicks my ass but leaves me feeling stronger. There's a new challenge on the other side of street even when it's the same street day after day. It never changes, but it's always different.

It's good to be back.

View from a long run and thanks to a far away friend

I went out thinking I’d do an average 4 miles or so.

Sometimes, a run is just too good to quit on. For me, it’s always a combination of the rhythm of my feet, the rhythm of my breathing and the rhythm of whatever music is pumping out of my IPOD.

I’ve tried to follow all the ‘experts’ advice, slower music for longs runs, a mix of slow and fast beat music for interval runs, fast music for tempo runs.
As is my custom, I ignore the experts.
When I run, the music playing has to be, aggressive, loud, and preferably bass-laden. That’s just how I run. My ex used to say the music I listened to was “crunchy” that’s as good a description as any.

I like this trail more than any I’ve run on in my 3 years running. It’s pretty isolated, very few houses, a golf course, a goat farm, one overpass, and a golf-cart graveyard are all you’ll get for man-made structure. The rest is trees and water and Carolina blue sky. It’s a well used trail; people on horses, people walking their dogs, cyclists, and of course other runners.

For the firs time in I can’t remember how long I lost track of the mile markers, and when the opportunity presented it self, I took a left turn off the trail, and ran down a little country road. When I decided to turn back, I still wasn’t ready to quit, so I took the left back onto the trail, still moving away from my truck.

This was as sister-Mandy calls it an ‘empty the trash of my mind and put that shit on the curb’ run. Running is my therapy, my church. It reminds me of what I am capable of all on my own. It reminds me that there are always options. It reminds me of exactly what I can control; which maybe isn’t much, but pace, direction, and effort aren’t exactly nothing either, in running or in life.

Thanks Doc, for the reminder.

Simple Simon and some other stuff.

The Sunday before last I ran 3 of 5 scheduled miles; at mile one my leg hurt a little; at mile two I could feel myself grimacing every time my left foot hit the pavement; and at mile 3 I was looking for a puppy to kick.
I quit at 3. The pain was so bad that when I was trying to "walk it off" I wasn't sure the leg would support me, yeah, that kind of bad.
I went home frustrated. I called my Ironman friend, told him what was going on. After being properly chastised for how long I'd been ignoring it (like 3 weeks) he gave me this plan.

(1) No running til the pain goes away. Not.one.step.
(2) Ice and ibuprofen twice day.
(3) When the pain goes away, cross train only - no stair steppers.

Today was my first run back. Sure, it was super short, just under 3 miles; but I had no pain - AT ALL. I also had the lovely Tiff nearby making the stair stepper her bitch. She makes every workout better - the cute boy wandering around the gym lifting weights didn't hurt either.

All in all, a better day than the last 9 - yeah, because I ran and it didn't hurt me. Turns out I am just simple.

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In unrelated-to-anything-really-news, I finally threw away the onion - it's been riding around in my cup holder since I wrote the OCD post. The best part of that? I've had a few people in my car since then, and not one of them has asked why I was driving around with an onion in my cup holder. So, either (a) it's not that weird, or (b) the people I've had in my car know that I'm nuts, or, (c) best option of all, they are just as off as I am and find it completely unremarkable to drive around with an onion in your cup holder.

More unrelated news... I'm having Valentine's day dinner with a friend I haven't seen in 20 years. She was really my brother's friend, but we found each other through the magical Internet (Thank you again, Mr. Gore) and so.. off to Moonlight Pizza we shall go and commence to throw things at all the happy couples. (You've been warned).

And that is that for Monday night at Casa Cravey home of the happy runner-chick.

Boo-yah.