Not Gracie's Day

I love to run with my dog....and the feeling is reciprocated by her. She knows the sound of my shoes as I tie the laces and comes trotting into my closet, ready to hit the roads again. She is joyful in her anticipation, barking, whining and running around my feet. I only wish I had half her excitement when it came to running ...motivation would not be a problem!

On Monday, however, it just wasn't Gracie's day. I had a very busy afternoon and was trying to squeeze in a three miler before my two o'clock appointment. I got out my standard winter running wardrobe and started the chore of suiting up. The temperature wasn't supposed to break out of the teens, so I knew I really needed to bundle for this run.

Gracie heard the swish of my wind pants and came running down the hall. "Yeah!!! We're going for a run," was her bark of glee. Her tail thumped the carpet with the anticipation of hitting the streets. It took about five minutes to get ready, with Gracie nipping at my heals the entire time. She whined with excitement as she followed me to the mud room for my windbreaker, hat and gloves.

I just needed to check my email to make sure my appointment was not cancelled. I took a quick trip downstairs, with Gracie right behind me, and then back up to the kitchen for a Kleenex (although boogers freeze, they eventually thaw). It was then that I noticed the clock. Already 12:55, I only had an hour to run, eat, shower and get to my appointment, which was 15 minutes away.

My run would have to wait. I started to take off my hat and mittens and unzip the windbreaker. Gracie's little button eyes gave me the "wait a minute...I thought we were about to do something fun...." look. It was as if someone had taken the squeaky part out of her favorite toy. You could see confusion and disappointment all over her face. Her ears laid back as if to say "I promise I'll be good, just take me for a run."

But alas it just wasn't meant to be. She followed me to the bathroom and cocked her head to the side as I turned on the shower, then slowly, tail hung low, she turned around and walked out. The picture above is how I found her as I was getting ready to leave the house. As if to say, "never mind, I didn't want to run with you anyway!"

The Things People Say to Runners

We've all come across these people...the ones who just have to say something about running as you pass by. Sometimes the comments are a courteous, "way to go," while other times they are just downright rude.

I had one neighbor think I might be too hot...without asking, he hosed me down as I passed by. What he didn't know was I still had 10 miles to go...not a lot of fun in soggy shoes and dripping shorts -- Let the chaffing begin!

How many times has someone asked you to run for them too? Oh sure...I'd love to! I really enjoy adding mileage to my run for someone else. I only hope they reap the health benefits as well.

What about the person who tells you how crazy you are? Don't you just want to smack em? I don't need some stranger telling me I have a mental health problem...I am quite aware of it already!

My personal favorite is the weather forecaster. It is a hot afternoon...you feel as though you are searching for the oasis in the desert, when some smarty pants drives by, rolls down the window of their air conditioned car and yells...hot enough for you? No really, I would prefer it was 10 degrees warmer. I make it a goal to dehydrate at least once a week.

So what is a runner to do with these clever comments? Well, we could waste our time getting upset....or we could chalk it up to another one of the many reasons running is less a means of exercise and more a life experience.

Booger Runs

Despite the fact that I live in the Midwest, and have lived here my entire life...I hate cold weather. I know, "hate" is a very strong word...one that I tell my children not to use...but despise, dislike and abhor simply do not have enough force to portray my real feelings about the cold.

Today, started out at a balmy 3 degrees in my hometown. I call it booger freezing weather, for the obvious reason. I always use the booger barometer to test the coldness factor. If, when I breathe through my nose, all the boogers instantly crystallize to my noes hairs, it is too cold for a really long run outside.

This leaves me with two choices...hit the treadmill, which I unaffectionatley named the hamster track, or suffer through a shorter run with icicles hanging from my nose! Today I chose the latter.

I prepare for my frozen booger runs by, dressing in layers (just like mom taught me). Despite the fact that am trying to streamline my apparel, I always end up looking like Ralphie from A Christmas Story -- long sleeve moisture wicking shirt with a hood, turtleneck fleece, running tights, wind pants, wind breaker, hood up, hat over hood, ear band, mittens and sun glasses.

As I hit the bitter cold, the wind stings against my exposed face (the only exposed skin on my body) -- instantly, I have the icy booger rush. My legs are stiff, but I keep pressing onward. Gradually, I get into a steady pace, my breathing normalizes and I start to enjoy the frozen world around me. Until, I turn the corner and head west!

The normal three mile course I run goes through my subdivision. It is one big loop, which means, at some point in my run, I will hit a head wind. In addition, I live in a neighborhood of relatively new construction on two acre lots -- wide open spaces for the wind to whip through. The winter wind, which normally comes from the Northwest, always hits me right in the middle of my run. I call this section of the course, my shoe run, so named because I spend most of the time looking down at my shoes to block the wind from hitting my face (and further freezing my boogers).

Despite the wind I press on, knowing that soon enough I will head east. I am always amazed by how good the run feels at this point in the course. With the wind at my back, I normally have to unzip my windbreaker! My nose is still iced up, but the rest of my body is actually HOT! I open up my stride and start my final 3/4 of a mile -- I'm in the homestretch!

When I get home, I find the frozen boogers have now turned into a dripping faucet. I run inside and grab a tissue before they make their way into my mouth -- ugh! My cool down stretch and requisite ab workout are frequently interrupted by additional tissue runs -- how can such a little nose have so much snot?

Just as I am starting to get a chill from the now clammy sweat that is covering my clothing, I end my workout with a long HOT shower. Despite the fact that, for the foreseeable future, I will remain living in a cold climate, I am glad I took my booger run...I emerge from the shower warmed up and ready to face the rest of my day!

Running Through The Eyes of a Child

I started my second running career with a four and seven year old watching my every step. I ran in high school, but had long since given up the sport for less motivating ventures. However with my 36th birthday just completed, I began to realize why it was so important for me to continue my running journey.

It was early October and I had been training for my first marathon since June. I began my second running career the previous December, barely able to make it a half mile and graduated to the distance of 26.2 miles just 10 months later.

It was a glorious October day, highs in the 50s and a crispness in the air. I was at the starting line ready to barf up the bagel I had forced myself to eat before leaving home at 5 a.m. As I stood in the sea of people not knowing a soul and wondering why I thought I could do this, my daughters came up to wish me good luck and that they would be cheering for me. Each had made a special sign which they proudly waived as I started my twenty six point two mile quest.

Even though I trained all summer, the race was anything but easy. I went through a whole range of emotions from joy and elation, to despair and despondence. It was at these low moments that our silver Honda Odyssey would drive past and I would hear my daughter’s cheers. I was driven onward because they wanted me to do it.

When I reached the finish line, both of my girls met me for the final quarter mile and ran to the finish. I can still remember the pride that each of them had in telling their friends and teachers that they had finished a marathon! It wasn’t until a few months later that I truly saw the impact my running had on their lives. My oldest daughter was talking about her favorite sports, of which running was one. She looked me in the eye and said “mom, when I grow up will you run a marathon with me?”

Note: since I first wrote this piece, my oldest daughter has competed in and completed two 5K's (see photo above!)

But I Can't Run

I hear this time and time again from the non-runners I encounter. They label me "crazy" and a "glutton for punishment." In addition, I often hear..."I would love to run...but I just can't." While there are truly some people who, because of a medical condition, cannot run, the majority of people can run, they just don’t want to.

I started my first running career in high school on the track and cross country teams. I was not necessarily in love with running, I just like the team aspect of the sport and found a sense of belonging in this community.

My second running career started just after my 35 birthday. With my children in preschool and elementary school, I found myself looking for a way to take off the weight that I have been losing and regaining through yo-yo dieting and on-again-off-again exercise programs. I was fat, discouraged and depressed and was the first to say, but I can’t run!

When I finally decided that I wanted to become a runner again, the first thing I discovered was that things did not move as easily as they did in my teens. I had extra curves and baggage that I wasn’t carrying around in my youth. I was also not able to just get out there and do it. I had to take it slow.

My program started just before Christmas. I ran a whopping half mile before I had to walk. I continued my walk/run program for several weeks, until I was able to go a full mile without hyperventilating. By Valentine’s day I was able to run five miles at a slow and steady pace and just after St. Patrick’s Day I ran my first half marathon.

Now entering my fourth decade of life, I still continue to run. For me it has become a therapy of sorts. It allows me to push myself to limits I thought were out of reach. Some people ask me if I always love running. To which I answer a whole hearted “No.” However, I always qualify this “No” with the statement, "I never regret going for a run." Even though it may feel horrible and I might dread every step, when I finish I know I have accomplished something.
So for those of you who say, “I can’t run,” know that if you truly want to run, you really can do it!

Running on empty -- A Mommy's Journey

There I was. A mother of two, overweight, out of shape and in the midst of a stare down with the treadmill. How did I let myself get to this point? Would I ever be fit again? It was the age old question that haunts many young mothers.

Keeping up with the kids was a full-time job which often left no room for self improvement. I found myself eating the scraps of food they left on their plate while cleaning the kitchen and keeping a toddler from climbing the cabinets. I was overwhelmed, over tired and often over worked. Until the day I saw myself in a photograph.

To say I was shocked by the picture is an understatement. That couldn’t possibly be my rear end. However the clothing attached to the body was most assuredly found in my closet, and in a size that I was in denial about wearing. I was fat!

I started the quest to find my pre-pregnancy body at the local Weight Watchers. And, while I was able to take off a respectable 25 pounds, as soon as the program was over, I found myself slipping back into my familiar routines. Next was the gym. I believed that if I simply worked hard enough I could eat what I wanted. I started strong, but my enthusiasm quickly waned as the pounds held onto my bones for dear life.

In my youth I was a runner. While I was not a particularly good one, I was able to earn a respectable spot on my high school cross country team and even competed for a year in college. This was the thought that brought me to that pivotal moment standing face to LED display with the treadmill.

The first run was a hard one. I made it a half mile before I had to walk. The next day I was paying for my new found hobby, having trouble making it down the stairs to meet with the torture machine once again. But somehow I found the will and made it another half mile. Over the next few weeks, I gradually saw myself making slow mileage improvements. Within six weeks I was able to run five miles, albeit slowly, it was still five miles!

Soon came the challenge. I was asked to train for a local half marathon. Even in my cross country days I did not have to run more than five miles (the races were only two miles), so the thought of running 13.1 seemed an insurmountable task. Yet while my mind and body were screaming "no," my mouth said "yes."

I found that this seemingly impossible goal was driving me onward in my quest for health and fitness. I had to change my eating habits just to have the energy to run. In addition, I made the mistake of telling everyone my plans. I knew if my plan wasn't public knowledge, I would certainly have the ability to back out at the last minute. But with everyone watching my progress and encouraging me to move forward, I was forced to keep going.

The day of the race came and I was in the best shape my body had seen for over 12 years. I had made it up to 12 miles in my training and hoped that adrenaline would carry me the remaining 1.1 miles. It was a long and arduous run. I had blisters on my toes, aching hip joints and cramps in my arches, but yet I moved forwards. And when I finally crossed the finish line, I reached my goal. I was losing weight, had more energy to chase my children, a brighter outlook on life and a new found spark of motivation. And then came the fateful question – “I wonder if I could run a marathon?”