running: the dawn

Sundays are my long run days. So in preparation I set my alarm with the intention of started by nine. However, I have a way of hearing my alarm and very intentionally turning it off right before I fall back asleep. This morning was no exception. Finally, I found myself on the run by 11:00.

Even though I have a Nike+ system that is supposed to be able to track distance, I had mapped out my run to make sure that I was going to complete the allotted seven miles.  I was very excited to try out a new route. This, I would soon learn, was somewhat premature.

The run started of beautifully. The sun was shining and there was hardly a cloud in the beautiful blue sky. I even texted KT (who wasn’t able to join me due to a prior commitment) to tell her that I was starting and that it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day for a run. Once I actually got started, I realize that the 22 degree weather was going to make this a very different run that last week’s six miler in 45 degrees.

I had to pull my neck gaiter up over my chin and ears to keep from chattering and I kept having to adjust my earphones that were tugging and falling out of my ears.  Then, whenever I was facing a headwind my eyes would start to water and I’d have to wipe away the frozen tears from the corners of my eyes. My nose also felt like today was the day to behave like a leaky faucet. The dripping seemed uncontrollable. I had to try to keep track of which glove was my sweat-wiping one and which was my “drippings” one. Let’s just say I’m going to give them both a really throurogh cleaning tonight before any more runs happen.

That brings me to the hills. First, it was up, then it was down.  And repeat.  Like 20 more times. Now, I understand that hills are very effective for training and it’s really good to plan some workouts that involve hills. But these seemed a bit over the top. Literally.  Some were long rolling hills that just seemed to go on forever. Others were shorter, but much more intense in their incline.

The worst hill of the day came right after I passed the half way point. My Nike+ announced to me that I had only three miles left which made me very happy. Then I made my last turn to head back towards my care and came face to face with the beast which we will call Bertha. Big Baby Bertha. You see, Bertha is the kind of hill that just doesn’t stop. All I could do was put my head down and hope that she would be gentle with me. Every once in a while I would glance up to see if I was nearing level ground. Once such time I lifted my head to see that I was only two-thirds of the way up, and I almost burst into tears. For a second I thought about walking, just until I could catch my breath. But the second passed, and I reminded myself that I could do it. I could conquer this beast.

Shortly reaching the summit, I heard the lovely voice from my ipod telling me that there were only two miles left. Only two! That’s nothing! I suddenly felt amazing. From there to the end there were no more uphills and one really fun downhill.

Then, all of a sudden I was back at my car. For once, my nike plus system seems to be right on track and it clocked me running a 9:45 pace. Which I must say surprised me, what with all the hills and other ridiculousness that was going on.

I decided that I needed to start my favorite (and my favorite, I mean most effective) recovery routine: the ice bath. I stopped by the local grocery store and bought two bags of ice. Yes, you see where I’m going with this. I got home, and started the cold water in the tub. Meanwhile I donned a sweatshirt and made some delicious rooibus tea. Ten minutes later a very very cold Dawn climbed out of the ice-filled waters. I’m happy to report that I am currently feeling no soreness nor am I lacking any range of motion. The ice bath wins again!

We’ll see how I feel tomorrow I have an easy two-miler planned.

There’s something that I’m trying to figure out about myself.  For a long time now, I’ve believed that I love to run.  I have told many people that I love to run.  I usually list it as one of the things that I “do” whenever someone inquires about my hobbies or pastimes.   I run.

However, in order to be something that I truly LOVE, I imagine that I would need to actually run more consistently that I have ever been able to.  I can’t get myself to get out the door and log miles unless I have an event that I’m training for.  And by event I mean race.  And by race I mean marathon.  I’ve tried signing up for 5k’s and 10k’s, I even ran my first 15k last fall.  None of those distances ever persuade me to follow a consistent training pattern.  I would run a couple times, to make sure that I was going to be able to complete the distance without embarrassing myself, but not enough to actually improve my running abilities.

So, in order for me to run regularly, I first need to sign up for a marathon (or half-marathon, any thing with the word marathon usually works), but I think I’ve discovered the other ingredient necessary for my motivation sandwich.  I need a partner.  I need someone who is going to care about all my aches and pains.  I need someone who is going to meet me for an early morning run or call me when she doesn’t feel like going running after work.  I need to run in community.

There’s something weird that happens to me when I start to train, I see the world through the eyes of a runner.  Everything that happens to me either becomes fuel for my run when I need to pound out my frustrations, or inspiration for my run when I’m feeling strong and powerful.  I’ve realize that there are not many people who understand this obsession that I periodically develop.  With the exception of my training partners.  They always seem to understand.

I have had some amazing women train with me.  First, there is Andi.  Whom I love.  Andi and I worked at summer camp together the year after my second half-marathon.  I remember the first day, I was in the lodge finding out where my cabin was going to be and she walked in a pair of running shorts on and I asked her if she was a runner.  I don’t remember her exact response, but she did say that she had just run her first 5k and she really enjoyed it.  From that day on we would get up before dawn and run.  Everyday.  I loved my early morning runs with Andi.  Somedays we would chat.  Somedays we would just listen to our own breathing.  Somedays we would be chased by crazy blind dogs.  By the end of the summer we were running 10 mile long runs on Sunday morning and Andi had signed up for her first half-marathon.

After she finished that half, we were chatting back and forth and I don’t remember who suggested it first, but somehow we decided to sign up for the Lincoln Marathon in May.  Our main challenge to being training partners was that she lived in Michigan and I lived in Nebraska, so we couldn’t actually run together.  We started emailing regularly, giving each other detailed break-downs of our runs and our plans to run.  I think we were able to physically run together twice during the 6 month training cycle.  I don’t know how, but it worked perfectly.  We paced together exactly, like we were born to run together.

Then I moved to Vermont.  I remember the day that I found my second running partner.  We were at a dinner party hosted by a mutual acquaintance, and somehow found ourselves talking about marathoning.  At this point, even though I had run one marathon and two half marathons, I had a hard time calling myself a runner (I still sometimes shrug off this label, but that’s a whole different issue).  I was a little intimidated talking to Judy because she was obviously in better shape than me, so there was no way I could ever dream of running a race with her.  After that day, we became fast friends.  I invited her to Jazzercise, and knew that we would be forever friends when she would still associate with me after her first class (most people are scared off by the mere mention of jazz hands).

Judy ended up becoming my roommate and I talked her into running another marathon.  After her last one she had decided that she just didn’t enjoy going that far in one day.  We sometimes ran together, sometimes separately.  I must say that some of the most beautiful and fulfilling run were with Judy as we explored the back country roads outside of Montpelier.

Both of those extraordinary women shared some of the best and worst times of my life, training for and participating in marathons.  And I was priviledge to have them both stand up with me at my wedding.

That brings me to the present.  KT, bless her heart, has become my third marathon-bound training teammate.  And I love her for it.  Before Christmas she and I were talking about exercising and fitness and she discovered that I’d run marathons before.  She got very excited and asked all kinds of questions.  I told her that I believe that anyone is capable of running that distance, you just have to decide and if you’re me, you need a training partner.  She and I then joked around about the episode of Friends where Monica becomes Chandler’s “training partner” trying to help him lose some weight that he’d gained.  She goes WAY over the top with her exercise enthusiasm, and truth be told that is exactly like me.  I can be VERY enthusiastic.

So a couple days after that conversation, KT send me a facebook message asking, “Will you be my Monica?”  My heart literally skipped a beat.  Having someone to train with and coach along the process is exactly what I need to resurrect my love of running.  I was so excited I almost started crying.  I love moments like that when I get a better understanding of who I am and how I work.  I need to combine fitness with relationship, otherwise I won’t succeed.

I thank these women: Andi, Judy, and KT.  You have made my life better.  You inspire me to be a better version of myself and I love you!

At the end of each week I plan on including a running miles/workout stats, so that I can track my progress over time.  I missed my first two weeks, but I gotta start somewhere, so here it goes.

Summary
Running:
Sunday–6; This was our long run for the week.  It felt really good.
Monday–2; This was just a short run to shake out the soreness from the long run.  We took it slow.
Wednesday–4; Wow, the day I froze.  This is when the temps plummeted and we haven’t seen the 20′s since then.
Thursday–7; These miles were split.  4 I ran on my own in the afternoon, and 3 later that same night with Keren.  Oh yeah, it was snowing.
Friday–2; A quick to miles to check how my speed is improving.  8:43 pace.  I need to keep working on that.

Total Miles: 21

Not bad.  I did log 23 miles last week and I should be increasing as the weeks go by, not going the other direction.  However I did start doing more cross training this week with the Jazzercise.  I went to a regular (hour-long) class on both Monday and Tuesday nights, and a 30-minute express class on Thursday (in between the 7 miles of running)

My favorite part of the week was yesterday morning.  I found out that I didn’t have to be a work at 8am like usual, so KT came over for some strength training and core work.  It was fabulous.  I am quite sore today and last night she was sending me text messages about how she couldn’t move because of the workout.

I can’t lie.  I do love a little soreness.  It makes me feel like I did something, like I earned a badge of some kind.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an advocate of prolonged muscle fatigue or pain.  But, as I’m going about my day I like to be reminded of the hard work that I put in the day before.  It actually motivates me to do something again today.

I did it!  I got all my spare gumption that’s been lying around with nothing to do and went out to face the chilly afternoon.  This time, I was sure to double up on my layers and wear my extra warm running pants (that are not flattering at all by the way, what with their tapered leg and elastic waist).

The run was actually much much more enjoyable than I thought it was going to be.  I had my ipod cranking out some lovely Jazzercise songs (that is the only way that I stay current on music, since I’m old and listen to NPR ALL the time) and the only part of me that wasn’t warm was my hands.  Now, I had in fact doubled up on the gloves, but apparently that wasn’t enough.  So midway through the run I decided that if the temperature drops below 30 degrees, I’m just going to have to wear my snowboarding mittens.  End of discussion.

A good part about the run was that the wind was in my face heading out and at my back on the way back.  Which meant that the second half of the run was so enjoyable I almost forgot that it was so cold.

The snow-covered slippery roads provided an extra challenge that might have also distracted me as the miles went by.  I had to think about each step and watch out for patches of ice.  I’m pretty sure that I looked like a member of the Flinstones, with my feet flailing beneath me as I desperately try to get some forward motion.  I’m starting to think that I might need to invest in those cleat-looking things you can slip over your shoes for more traction.  That would reduce the fun of random cars that drive by and laugh at my predicament, but I can’t be all things to all people.

The weirdest thing about the run though was that is was my fastest run so far this training season.  I ran an average of 8:50 per mile…which is not fast by any stretch of the imagination, but it is fast-er that I have been running lately.  I must have thought that I could actually run away from the cold air if I just moved fast enough.  Apparently I was trying to spend as little time as possible in the frigid air.

All in all, it was a great day to be a runner.  Then I got home and checked the weather.  Sometime during my run it dropped from 14 to 12 degrees.  Awesome.

After passing on running this morning (due to a scratchy throat from yesterday’s 16 degree run) I’m feeling an internal urge to get out and run now. So, currently I’m sitting in my living room staring out the window as the snow is blowing around in all the wind. I just checked weather.com and it’s a balmy 13 degrees, windchill of 1. And the debate continues in my head.

Welp, I think I’m going to brave it. I made myself a deal that if the temperatures were in the double-digits I wouldn’t use the weather as an excuse. I have all the protective gear I need, so I can handle it. Out into the snowy wonderland I run.

I love math.  I think we can trace that quirk in my personality back to elementary school.   I was completely obsessed with the “mad minute” activities.  These were one-page worksheets covering addition, subtraction, multiplication and division that we were given one minute to finish.

The first time we would start a new concept, it was laborious to do the mad minute.  I’d have to stop for each question and think through the process.  When it was addition, that meant counting on my fingers.  “Three, plus four…that means three to four to five to six to seven.  So three plus four has to equal seven!”  Then I’d quickly write the answer down and move on to the next question, starting the process all over again.

Over time, I would see the patterns, and would have to think about the process less.  I would make up my own little shortcuts and make connections that helped my go faster.  Instead of having to think about what addition actually meant, it became instinctive.  I knew that three plus 4 equals 7, because it always equals seven.  It was developing the correct brain reflexes.

It was so exciting to see how much I could get done.  It was even more fun to realize that I was getting faster over time.  I enjoyed the new challenge of moving from addition to subtraction, and then throwing fractions in just for kicks.  There was nothing more satisfying than completing that last problem and turning my paper over before the minute was over.  Done!  Such a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Years later, I am wondering if my running will ever get to that same point.  Right now, I feel the labor every day.  I have to consciously think about setting time aside to run, preparing myself physically for the run, preparing myself mentally for the cold.  I feel every step that I take, every breath rings in my ears, I am aware of the movement and the motion.  Is it possible that this will ever come more naturally?  Will I ever not have to think about the steps and the motion and the breathing?  Will I ever wake up without an alarm and find myself out running before I have to actually think about what I’m doing?

Maybe not.  Maybe running is not meant to be like math.

I would love to be a natural-born runner.  But alas, I’m afraid I wasn’t made that way.  My legs are short, I have pretty severe over pronation, and weak ankles (made weaker by numerous sprains playing high school and college basketball).  Running may never come easy to me the way math does, but I love it.  I will keep working at it in the hopes that some day I will find myself on a run without restraints, where I feel free of the process and I can just enjoy my accomplishment and turn the paper over.  Done!

So, my lovely husband pointed out that the white writing on the black background was not easy on the eyes…so I’m still experimenting with various options. If I stumble on something you especially love, let me know!

16.

As in 16 degrees.

Yes, that was the temperature outside this morning when KT and I embarked on our morning run.  My alarm went off at 5:00am and I hoisted myself from the perfect comfort of my bed.  Since our heat is on a timer and isn’t scheduled to come on until 6:30 (I really need to talk to Mr. Dawn about that…) it was absolutely frigid in our little house.  I stammered around in the darkness trying to remember where I had set out my running close the night before.  I finally made it both to the light switch and the thermostat which made the whole getting up and waking up process much easier.

The past week, most of my running has be in temperatures in the 30′s and I got used to dressing accordingly.  A long sleeve shirt, fleece, pants and tall socks combined with my running hat, ear muffs, neck gaiter and gloves.  I have felt very warm and comfortable.  The problem this morning was that I didn’t take the time to check the weather before I got into my car (which had been parked in the garage all night) and headed over to KT’s house for our pre-dawn run.

After turning left at the one stop light in our fair village, when I saw the current temperature posted on the Village Offices: 16 degrees.  Oh shoot.  At the last minute before I ran out the door, I grabbed my lightweight down jacket just to wear on the drive there and back so I wouldn’t be chilled.  When I stepped out of my car and into the blistering cold wind, I realized that I would not be taking the jacket off AT ALL.

The run itself was not as bad as I imagine it could have been.  The first two miles just sort of breezed by without me really paying attention.  Then out of no where I felt a slap, right across my face.  It knocked the wind out of my lungs and my eyes went all blurry.  It took me a second to realize that we had rounded a corner into a direct head wind.  Oh. My. Word.  My eyes started watering and then freezing around the corners.  My gloves, which up until this point have been my favorite, do a great job at blocking the wind, but for some reason today they just couldn’t hold up to the low temperatures and my hands started to get really cold.

But nothing, I mean nothing, was as bad off as my legs from my hips to my knee caps.  The one other time KT and I have run in sub-twenty degree weather I made sure to put a wool base layer under my running pants.  This time, not-so-much.  On the up side, it was like taking an ice-bath whilst running.  Yes, I do indulge in an occasional ice-bath.  Usually this treat is reserved for post-long run fun-ness, when my legs are traumatized and slightly inflamed.  No need for that today, the ice-cold wind took care of everything.  My legs were litterally tingling as I ran along.  I was pretty sure they were still function because I was moving forward and my ipod kept counting down the miles…

We made it to the end.  Four miles total.  Added to the 6 on Sunday and the 2 on Monday, we’re up to 12 for the week.  Go Team!

jazzercise.

No one believes me when I tell them that I love Jazzercise, and they’re are even more shocked when they learn that I spent three years as a Jazzercise Instructor.  (In fact, had I not resigned last May, January 22 would have been my 4-year Jazzer-versary.)  But it’s true, I LOVE the Jazzercise workout.

I know what people think when they hear the word Jazzercise.  First, most people literally show me their “jazz hands” and start laughing because they are so sure they just summed up all there is to know.  The conversation then goes directly to the 80’s.  I can see the images they are forming in their minds, all of which involve…shiny blue spandex leggings, lavender leotard, serious head band action and to complete the ensemble, hot pink leg warmers scrunched up just over the white double velcro straps of their Reebok shoes.  Hotness!

I can personally testify that Jazzercise has evolved through all the changing decades and is just as up-to-date today as it was with all of its 80’s glory.

Monday I signed up and officially became a customer of Jazzercise once again.  My first class was in 2000.  A friend of mine was going and she couldn’t stop talking about how much fun class was.  Back then, I was a poor college student, so I would wait to get coupons in the mail and then go to class for a few months at a time.

From the first day, I knew this was an exercise that I could get excited about.  The number one reason is that it gives me a chance to dance my little heart out.  The moves are not hard, but they are SO much fun.  The music always got me going, and before I knew it the class would be over.

The year that I ran my first marathon, I signed up to go to Jazzercise the four months leading up to the race.  I used it as my cross-training going five days a week.  Come race day I felt strong.  Jazzercise uses moves from all different fitness-related activities from kick-boxing to latin dancing, from yoga and pilates to plyometrics.  For me, it’s the perfect companion to running.  In Jazzercise I spend so much time focusing and strengthening my core and I remember how different my running posture was after a just a month of attending classes.

Then it was time for me to leave school and get a full time job in the big scary world.  I am not exaggerating when I say that I would look up online to see if there were Jazzercise classes near any potential job.  When I finally decided to move to Vermont I found and apartment within walking distance to the local Jazzercise center.  It was there that I found a community of women that melted my heart.  The Barre Jazzercise center was also where I decided to become a certified instructor.

I thought I loved Jazzercise before, but once I became an instructor my love affair was elevated to a whole new level.  After another move brought me to Kansas and again I was immediately welcomed into a family of fitness-minded strong and beautiful women.  These ladies were with me through my dating-engagement-wedding evolution.  That brought them even closer to my heart.

So, when my latest move brought me to a small rural town and my job demands increase, I couldn’t balance all areas of my life anymore and I had to step away from my role as an instructor.  It broke my heart.  I spent the last seven months Jazzercise-less.  The first time in 10 years.

And now…I’m back!  I took my second class tonight as a returning customer and loved every second of it.  There’s something different about Jazzercise sweat.  It gets in my eyes, my mouth, drips off my nose.  It’s like swimming, but not.  My legs were burning by the end of class, so many squats and lunges!  I can’t wait to feel the sore in the morning.

This morning, I was up before dawn. It was dark in this little town, but I felt the birth of something new, or at least the return of something familiar. On went the gloves, the layers, the hat, the shoes, and out I went, to face a new day. I ran a quiet two miles.  It’s like being home again.

I must confess, I have been lurking. Peeking into the lives of people I don’t know and gaining a sense of community. I just discovered the awesome power of shared-experience with total strangers. It’s incredible to hear stories of triumph and perseverance. Reading about how a women who never thought she could, finished her first marathon or qualified for Boston, or ran 6 miles for the first time ever. Yes, it’s true I am quickly becoming addicted to running blogs.

My own story with running started my senior year of college. I had one more “activity” credit that I needed to get before they would let me out into the great wide world. On a whim, and probably because it was the only one that fit my schedule, I signed up for “Running for Everyone” at 7:30am. With no agenda other than getting a college diploma, I stumbled into the most transformational aspect of my life.

By the end of the semester, I ran my first half-marathon–in the rain. I was so green to the sport, I had no idea what was going on. I had trained.  Not necessarily trained well. The long runs only started about a month and a half before the race and still really didn’t have a clue what it meant to have a race-day goal or what PR meant. I didn’t know that there would be water available on the course. When we got to mile 10 and there were people offering me slices of orange, I remember nothing had ever tasted so amazing. There were huge slabs of wood with some grease-looking goo (I now know was Vaseline) and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what that could be for. I still remember how funny I looked in the finish line photo wearing my basketball shorts, soaking wet running shoes, a sweatshirt and an “emergency” poncho (the clear kind you can buy for $1). It was obvious I had never raced before. But in that moment, I remember being so confident, so proud of myself, and complete.

That’s how my journey with running began. Now, here I am seven years post-college. For awhile I kept up with the running. The next year I ran the same half and improved my time by more that 20 minutes. A year after that my dear friend Andi agreed to train and run the full marathon with me. That was a perfect day. Then I moved to Vermont, and found a new running partner and decided to tackle a new course and run another full marathon. That day was not-so-perfect and couldn’t improve upon my time.

That was in 2006. It’s been four years since I ran a full marathon. Sure, I’ve done a couple half’s but it’s not the same. My heart calls out for the challenge, the pain, and the triumph that comes with running 26.2 miles.

That brings me to today. Exactly one week ago I signed up and paid for the San Diego Rock ‘n Roll Marathon on June 6, 2010. I have found a training partner that I’ve also convinced to travel with me to California to tackle the race.

I’ve learned that while running is a solitary sport, I do it best in community. In the past week, I’ve stumbled on people’s stories of triumphs and trials when wrestling with the beast that is the marathon. This world of blogs, specifically running blogs, has already given me so much support. I’ve learned new techniques, various training plans, clothing suggestions, equipment reviews and so much more. I feel like I’m stealing. I’m taking in, without giving back. I believe that community is vital to the success of the individual and I can’t truly be a part of a community until I give as well as take.