Mile by Mile: Life Lessons Learned Through Marathon Running

On Thanksgiving morning, I participated in my run club’s Tofurky Trot.  That’s right, Tofurky.  Last year, there was a discussion on the various area turkey trots (you know, those Thanksgiving morning community road races), and one of the vegans in the group joked that she had a Tofurky run at her house.  In typical Libertyville Running Club tradition, it happened.  Twice:

Anyway, I was running (well, trotting because we were chatting too much to consider ourselves racing) with two friends.  I’m working on growing my chemistry tutoring business, and the question of how that was going…..lead to AP exams and college choices and life in general and how we can apply our perspective about running to life. 

★☆★☆★

When you run a major marathon, you have to focus on your race.  The only thing that matters is when the chip on your shoe or race bib hits the mats, so worrying about how fast the people around you are going is anethma.  They might be pacing for a faster race.  You might see them in five miles, hitting a wall because they went out too fast.  They might have shown up late and ended up starting in the back instead of the super-speedy corral they were assigned.  You might have passed them earlier in the race because they stopped to use a porta potty.  Basically, you have no clue what their chip and pacing is saying, so there is no point in comparing yourself to them.

That’s true in life.  We spend so much of high school and college worrying about gpa and test scores and class rank, comparing ourselves to our peers.  My dentist had a son in my high school class, and when I would go for a cleaning, I would always be with the dental hygienist who also had a son in my class.  Both parents were very interested in my class rank, my ACT, what colleges I was interested in attending, and so on.  Their sons were great guys, but I’m a member of Mensa genius who was so smart as a 3 year old that I started kindergarten a year early *and* was in the gifted program *and* by high school, so ambitious about college that I fought for every extra credit point and A+.  I felt pressure, but it was so awkward to be in the dentist’s chair, having to point out that I’m a better student than their sons.  Especially when both of them had a lot of gifts that have made them successful today.  Just not being in the top 1% of their high school graduating class. 

With those comparisons, we stop running our life, our “race,” and try to keep up with everyone else.  However, when you ask someone 20 years later, they often regret the decisions that were influenced by external pressures, whether they be academic or romantic or financial.  Be you.  Run your own race.  Do your thing the way you need to do it.

That 2015 Chicago was looong!

Unless you are Eliud Kipchoge, a marathon is long.  Three hours is considered a “fast” time, and some people will be out there for seven or eight hours.  A lot can happen in an hour, never mind eight, and one of the mantras in marathon running is “just put one foot ahead of the other.”  I definitely had to say that to myself throughout both Chicago and New York this year, as I didn’t know how long my body would last. 

When I came home, I realized I would have to apply that mantra to life.  I had quit my job.  I had broken up with my boyfriend of four years.  My house was a cacophony of stuff my ex had accumulated, stressing me to the point where my brain couldn’t figure out how to do things like make dinner or brush my teeth without an anxiety attack.  The focus on the trip and the marathon had taken some of the pressure off these things, but now I had to face reality.  A giant, scary, overwhelming reality.

Instead of being caught up in the place I found myself, I just needed to put one foot ahead of the other.  I had to figure out what was stressing me out the most, what the smallest step I could take to alleviate that stress, and then accomplishing that step.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  It has been all about finding success in forward progress, no matter how small, and cherishing the stress relief associated with it. 

We get so caught up in not being “there” yet that instead of focusing on that next little step, we stop and quit.  Just keep moving forward.  Keep learning, growing, progressing, trying.  You are getting closer.

★☆★☆★

In the course of a race that lasts hours, even for the fastest in the world, a lot can happen.  The weather is often unpredictable and inconsistent.  The meal you ate the night before suddenly doesn’t agree with you.  The start is earlier or later than your normal training times, so you have to modify your nutrition plan.  You have to be able to roll with the punches and adjust, rather than pining over what didn’t go right.  That was my New York experience in a nutshell, having to make decisions and game plans on the fly as my body wasn’t reacting as I expected. 

There are days when you get up early and make a perfect bullet journal page….just to have something happen that causes it to fly out the window.  For me, that’s like setting up an ornate domino show, and having something knock the whole thing down before you get a chance finish the design.  I’m back to square one and the first domino.  I really have to stop, breathe, regroup, and figure out how to go forward now that the plan is gone. 

Life constantly doesn’t go as planned, and most of the time, we don’t get to start over again.  We get stuck at that point, not knowing how to get back on track to a rigid set of ideas and rules of what we want, rather than looking at where we are and retooling.  Be adaptable to changes, especially changes that are outside of your control.    

★☆★☆★

Running a marathon is an all-day, if not all-weekend event.  You have spent months thinking about this weekend, planning this weekend, purchasing items (and often travel) for this weekend, so it makes sense that there’s also a sense of anxiety that something won’t go as planned.  Even the most veteran marathon runners feel those nerves, and back in 2015, I let those nerves get the better of me in Chicago.  My head started to control my body, and my body started to shut down.  I did set an 8 min PR, but it would be three years until I would have the experience to quiet the nerves and crush Chicago.

There are plenty of people who let their nerves get in the way of success.  The college student so afraid of public speaking that they cannot give the presentation required for their degree.  The job seeker so afraid a job won’t be perfect enough that their non verbal behavior blows an interview.  The person who walks away instead of having a difficult conversation.  The woman at the bar who notices an attractive man, but is too nervous of making a fool of herself to approach him and say hello.    

We often think that our anxieties and nerves are a weakness to suppress, wallowing in self-pity over our failures.  Accept those nerves as part of being human.  Learn how to overcome them. 

Wait, there's something new here!

Another mantra of marathon running is “don’t change anything on race day.”  The idea is that if you figured out what worked in training, race day is not the time to try something new.  While yes, a major change on race day can cause a lot of problems, great runners are willing to take those risks in hopes of going beyond what they think they can do.  In New York, I tried compression socks for the first time on race day, and it probably was the smartest thing I could have done.  I also try to keep my nutrition plan flexible, risking that whatever is on course might not agree with me, over becoming overly dependent on a specific product schedule.

It’s the perfect metaphor for life.  Many people get stuck in this plan of how life should be that they fear the risks they could take to achieve greater goals.  We stay in jobs we don’t love, with people we don’t love, doing things we don’t love because it’s safe.  It’s easy.  It’s predictable.  We create a bubble around us where nothing is difficult or challenging or scary, to the point where they cannot tolerate anything that changes their universe.

However, that rigid adherence to what is planned and familiar keeps us from growing and improving, which comes from taking risks and failing.  The runners who are so quick to tell me they have every detail about their marathon planned are often the ones who struggle improving their time.  And in life, the people who stay in their comfortable bubble often ruminate about how they wish their lives were different, even as I see them actively reject anything unfamiliar.  Break your bubble.  Try new things.  Meet new people.  Challenge yourself.  Fail.  Learn from failure.  Grow. 

★☆★☆★

Finally, it’s not about one race.  Your first marathon is usually the most exciting.  Everything is new and different and adventurous.  Your time will be your personal best, since it is your first.  The process naturally gets you in shape, and you see your speed and endurance improve.  Your confidence builds, and you become ready to tackle greater things in your life.  (Did you see Brittany Runs a Marathon?)  Life is good!

That initial improvement comes from starting with nothing.  Eventually, you’ll plateau, have a setback, or fight injury.  Running isn’t fun.  You’re slower.  It hurts.  Your friends on Strava seem to be flying past you in their own quests to run PRs.  Many runners hit this point and quit, but the ones who figure out the challenge, make the changes, and reboot can go further and faster.

My largest challenge is my head.  I used to feel so slow that I would be bored to tears during training, and that would translate to going out too fast at the start of the race, to fight that boredom.  By mile 15, I was spent, walking, and even more slow and bored as the race could not go fast enough.  I decided to take a couple years off of racing marathons, but continuing with the training.  Slowly, I improved to the point where those 22 mile training runs seemed easy—and suddenly, so did my marathons.  I’ve gone from a consistent 5:30 finisher to a consistent 5 hour finisher, breaking 5 hours twice.  It took years, four years, of slow progress, setbacks, and challenges to get to this place.

I’m in the same spot in my life.  I know where I’m going, but it doesn’t seem to be moving fast enough to get there.  I feel like I’m plodding along, keeping my head afloat, and every ounce of forward momentum turns to a setback.  I know I’m being challenged, and I need to keep retooling and practicing and failing and learning and growing.  I need to accept that this process could take years, or even a decade, so I need to celebrate every step forward and overcome every setback.  Just like I believe I’m capable of being a faster marathoner, I am capable of living the life of my dreams.

We get so focused on success that we get demoralized and derailed by the first glimmer of imperfection, that first challenge or obstacle.  However, it’s the failure that causes improvement.  Don’t allow setbacks to hold you back.  Identify the roadblocks on your path and figure out how to overcome them.

Breakthrough, and first sub-5!

So runners, what say you?  What life lessons have you learned from running marathons, 5k’s or ultras?  What do you want to pass along to others?

Gratitude for Thanksgiving Day

Inspired by a Facebook post of a friend who lost her husband of 38 years, here is what I am grateful for this Thanksgiving holiday: 

• The right diagnosis for why my brain works the way it does, so I can figure out how to make my life work for me, rather than struggle trying to make me work to have a normal life.
• Strength to walk away from toxic relationships in my life, even when it was safer to stay.
• Passion for marathon running and writing, healthy addictions to deal with the challenges life throws my way.
• Friends who have reached out, supported me, and became my family, even as life got crazier and crazier. 
• Life lessons that were earned from the difficult times, as well as the personal growth that came from them.
• Discovering a voice that has been silent way too long, and the confidence to make it heard.
• Peace in my soul that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, replacing the empty longing that comes from fantasies.
• Hope that fuels the pursuit of my dreams, and dreams that are worth pursuing.
• Looking in a mirror and loving the woman I see in it.

In the face of so much wrong and bad and difficult and challenging in our worlds, we still can find so many things that are good.  Stop and think about your life.  What is on your gratitude list this year?

You Never Will Know the Demons You Create, So Just Be Kind

DISCLAIMER:  This blog is, and never will be, a political blog.  However, I spent eight years working in politics, seeing the good, the bad, and the ugly of this country.  The experience taught me so much about myself and my universe that at times, I cannot help but speak about it.  Just don’t interpret my story as a political manifesto.  It’s really just my life and my voice.

I have to get something off my chest.  Or my back.  Or draining on my soul.

I went onto Twitter on Friday to write a post, and found that #ByeByeElyse is now trending.  Apparently, Rep. Elise Stefanik, a Republican from New York and ranked as the 19^th most bipartisan Member of Congress, did something so awful that she should be burned on the stake or something.  I could not imagine what could be causing such a vitriolic response.  Except maybe those impeachment hearings….

To be honest, I’ve been ignoring the impeachment hearings.  I’m burnt out.  With eight years of eating, sleeping, breathing, and living in the political world, our current political climate is beyond stressful.  It’s toxic.

I started as a Congressional staffer for a Republican member of the House.  Politics had been an interest of mine since college, and while I was an armchair junkie, I never thought I’d have the resume or the talent for the work.  When the candidate I helped get elected asked me to join his staff, I was excited for the opportunity to help the people in the district, the people I had befriended over the months leading to the election.  You’d think it was glamorous and exciting, like The West Wing or House of Cards?  Not even close.

When you are a Congressional staffer, you have to answer the phone and calm down the angry callers.  When it is a Republican Member of Congress, the angry callers tend to be Democratic party voters who have seen your boss on TV or read a press release or worked for his/her opponent in the last election….or is supporting your boss’ opponent in the upcoming election.  Of course, the fact that they are calling a professional office with people who are just doing a job (beyond answering the phones, I was responsible for helping constituents struggling with their immigration and visa paperwork) is completely lost in the blinding rage, and the poor staffer is called a bunch of four letter words, told they should just kill themselves because they don’t deserve to be alive, or my favorite, told they couldn’t possibly be that stupid of a woman for supporting their boss.  Seriously, I didn’t realize what the c-word was….until I was called it over 1,000 times within six months.

The good news is that my boss wasn’t re-elected, so I didn’t have to face any more of that abuse.  But as I slowly healed from the mental and emotional damage from that experience, I continued to work in politics, being exposed to the occasional blog post or angry tweet that would just trigger me into a panic attack.  But instead of manifesting as severe fear, it manifested as anger.  Inside, I was a raging Tasmanian Devil, but I could not stoop to the angry mob’s level. 

You see, political work is a very public job.  Everything you do is seen as representative as your employer, whether it be an elected official, a candidate, or an organization.  Not only did I want to take the high road, personally, but anything I did could be recorded, screenshot, or otherwise documented.  And spread across social media.  So I kept silent, numbing my pain with marathon training and pinot grigio.

Then Donald Trump ran for President.  Up until this point, I had been dealing with hyper-partisan liberals, charged with emotions, but as the election (and Trump’s Twitter account) moved forward, the drumbeat of scared energy got louder and louder.  Then Trump won the election, and everything went off the rails.  The anger, the vitriol, the hatred, and the emotions were ratcheted so high that dissent, which exists in our country by design, was no longer tolerated.  Either you agreed with the people who thought Trump needs to go….or you were devil spawn.  No grey area.  No “nice” Republicans.  I mean, we’ve gotten so bad that Ellen DeGeneres was trolled for laughing with President George W. Bush at a football game.  Ellen DeGeneres, who is this sweet, kind, funny human, was trolled for being a sweet, kind, respectful human.

Not only was healing my wounds no longer possible, silencing my voice was causing other problems in my life.  I had become a shell of who I was before all of this started, both emotionally and physically.  I needed to make changes.  I needed to reprioritize my life.  And I needed to speak up instead of staying silent. 

Being obnoxious because you are fighting the good fight is not acceptable.  It’s not acceptable if you’re a Republican, and it’s not acceptable if you’re a Democrat.  Calling an office and using obscenities is not acceptable.  Cyberbullying someone who disagrees with you politically is not acceptable.  And most importantly, feeling that your horrible behavior is justified because of your beliefs is not acceptable.  As Ellen DeGeneres said, be kind. 

Seeing the anger towards Rep. Stefanik on Twitter was triggering, but instead of silencing myself, I took fingers to keyboard and purged some demons.  It’s time to tell our truths, listen to each other, find common ground, and appreciate our diversity.  Starting with myself.

The Exceptional People Biography Book Club---for Exceptional People

About five years ago, in one of my “why can’t I find a good man” phases, I came across the Extraordinary Women series on PBS.  The episode was a biography on Coco Chanel, and what struck me, as I watched, was how she struggled finding a happy, lasting relationship.  Of course, she lived in the 1920s, when women were still defined as “Mrs. Husband,” so she couldn’t be successful without a husband.

I then remembered an autobiography I read years ago about Myrna Loy.  She’s most famous for being Mrs. Nora Charles, the wife of famous detective Nick Charles (played by William Powell) in The Thin Man movie series.  I had plucked it from the library at random, but now The Thin Man is one of my favorite movies.  However, what I remember most about her autobiography was that after four marriages and four divorces, she realized that she was happiest single.  Of course, it was a lot easier to be a single woman in the 1960s when you were a Hollywood legend, but it struck me that once again, a successful, smart, independent woman….didn’t need a husband.

So why on earth was I, a career focused, independent, self-sufficient woman in the 21^st century, judging myself for not getting married and having kids?  Why did I think there was something wrong with me, instead of looking at the mirror and realizing that I was living the life that Coco Chanel and Myrna Loy and Grandma Westphal wished they could have lived?  I mean, Coco Chanel and Myrna Loy were exceptional, successful women.  Maybe my husband struggles were more a reflection of my exceptionalism instead of my failure.

Of course, it would take another bad relationship for me to truly accept that about myself, but hey, we’re all human.  And I’m GenX, the girls who were taught they could be astronauts and politicians, but also were expected to find the time to date, get married, have children, go to yoga, join a book club…..

Oh, right, book club.  After this awakening, I decided that I needed to be reading more biographies of exceptional people, and last month, I went down to Chicago to meet Adam Rippon, the hilariously funny openly gay Olympic bronze medal winning figure skater turned YouTube talk show host.  If Adam isn’t exceptional, I don’t know anyone who is.  It was a book signing for his autobiography, Beautiful on the Outside, and I brought it with me to New York as a fun read. 

That's not a photo from NYC, but it's still a good book

Adam had said during the question and answer session that he picked moments of his life that were relatable to everyone, and there were several times where I’m thinking, “wait, that happened to me.”  Maybe not hopping a subway in France to buy a shirt at H&M during a competition, but definitely the multiple hour breakup conversation.

While reading Adam’s book, I decided to challenge myself to read a biography (preferably, an autobiography) every month.  Typically, biographies are written about people with exceptional lives, and often, these exceptional people weren’t successful fitting into societial norms.  Actresses and activists, heroes and nonconformists, they remind us that it is okay to be different, that being “different” might mean being extraordinary.  And maybe, help us find that exceptional voice inside ourselves, because we are all exceptional.

Which is why I’m starting the Exceptional People Biography Book Club for Exceptional People.  Every month, I’ll post on my Instagram a short review of the biography I’ve read.  I’m also very open to suggestions of good biographies and autobiographies.  Who has inspired you?  What story moved you so much that it changed your life?  Send me a comment, email, direct message or smoke signal, and let’s all discover how each one of us is truly exceptional!

Star #3: New York, New York

This journey, to run all six majors by my 50^th birthday, wasn’t really about the actual races.  My journey through the boroughs of New York City wasn’t really about running a marathon, either.

After 9/11, my mother suffered a mental breakdown.  I was living with my parents at the time, and working as a public skate guard at an ice rink about 45 min away from home after being laid off from my first chemistry job in April.  She had always been nervous about my more independent nature, as she rarely did anything alone, but as she lost touch with the reality that I was an adult, I wasn’t allowed to leave the house without a cell phone and promises to check in.  (There was one incident where I was working the Friday night public skate, and because the police station was two doors down, an officer was parked outside the rink entrance as I walked out of there and to my car.  I figured that since I was super-safe, I wouldn’t have to check in with her.  I walked in the front door to my mother, so convinced that something bad had happened to me, was about to call the police.)

I lived in that environment for about a year and a half before taking a job as a traveling consultant and buying a home of my own.  While I was traveling the country and making mistakes and learning, my mother’s fear of something happening to me if I left my safe suburban life remained in the back of my head.  I rarely would even travel to Chicago, outside of the trips to the airport required for my job.  When I commuted to Princeton, NJ in 2008, the idea of going to New York City, visiting Times Square and the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island alone was out of the question.

After a fantastic Chicago Marathon with the Muscular Dystrophy Association, I learned they had a New York City Marathon team.  The two marathons would be three weeks apart this year, so I signed up for both, with a goal to raise $7500, a test to see if I’m ready for Boston or London’s charity fundraising requirement.  In the excitement of knowing I would be finishing another major marathon, it never occurred to me that I might be a solo traveler; I was in a relationship at the time, and usually a few people from my run club might get in by lottery so there might end up being a nice group.

In the end, there were five of us:  three who qualified by time, myself, and someone who did get in via lottery.  However, I was the only one who wanted to expand the trip into more than running a marathon, and by summer, my boyfriend and I were through.  I booked my trip solo, renting an AirBnB in Harlem for a few nights after the race and purchasing tickets for both the Statue of Liberty and the 9/11 Museum.  I figured that I had three days before the race with both my charity team and my Libertyville Running Club teammates to get an understanding about the city, and I’d have my smartphone and Uber.  And of course, that 26.2 mile jog from Staten Island to Manhattan.

I flew into LaGuardia, and immediately, there were people in running shoes and jackets everywhere.  Talking to the lady at the information desk, I scrapped my plan to take an Uber because she said the subway was so easy.  And it was.  I came out only three blocks from my hotel, and really, it was no different than wandering around the Chicago Loop.  Win!  I also discovered my Maps app had directions via public transit, which made everything super-easy, especially later in the trip.

Between the LRC and MDA, all of my meals, my walk to the expo, and even getting to the bus in front of the library race morning were with friends.  Two of us even walked around Times Square.  The best moment was walking down the peanut butter aisle in Whole Foods the night before the race and realizing that there was no way for them to prepare the amount of bagels and peanut butter needed for all those runners, staying in hotels around Midtown.  Total apocalypse.  I grabbed the closest thing, plus two cookies to counteract the super-garlicy bread at dinner, and decided to make do with what I’m thrown.

Times Square

Actually, that became the theme of race day.  While the race starts at 9:40 am (and my wave at 10:35 am), we had to be up at 4:15 am to make a bus to get from Manhattan to Long Island.  I woke up healthy (which is a fear when the dry hotel air is giving me a slight tickle in my throat) and ready…..to sit on a bus for two hours and then the start village for another two.  In stop and go traffic.  So in the midst of balancing hydration and nutrition and digestion and porta-potties, I also had to consider the potential of motion sickness.  Fun times.  I distracted myself by meeting new people, but by mile 10, some issues arose that required me to focus on how I was going to keep putting one foot ahead of another.  A potty stop and shoe unlacing at mile 16, the realization that I was near PR pace at 19, and a near sprint to finish below five by the end.  The Wave 3 clock at the finish said 5:01, so I didn’t realize my time until I got back to my hotel and saw the texts from friends who were tracking me.  I collapsed on the hotel room floor, crying. 

Back home with the LRC, celebrating my 4:56:56

The race itself is now just a series of snippets, going by so fast that I barely remember it.  The quiet start up the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.  Running on the expressway as the UPS trucks used for bag check race by.  The welcomes as we entered each borough.  The noise and enthusiasm of loudspeakers and unofficial aid stations and even homes decorated for the race in Brooklyn.  The constant up and down of the road.  The runners from around the world.  The selfies on the Queensboro bridge.  The seemingly never-ending First Avenue.  Trying to wave to the motorcycle camera in the Bronx.  The long uphill into Central Park (Mile 23!), and just floating up and down the hills to the finish.  It was fun and glorious…..until I was in a crowded finish chute, barely able to put weight on my pained right foot, starting to chill.  It was such a long walk that after I got my poncho, I found a bench and sat down for a while. 

After a warming shower at the hotel and an evening celebrating our accomplishments, my roommate, Kate, headed back to Chicago while I headed out to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.  The hotel held my bags, so I hopped on the subway for the short trip to the ferry launch.  On the subway, a family got on with a toddler in a stroller.  The toddler crawled out of the stroller, and not understanding the rhythm of the train, stumbled and hit her head on a pole.  The entire car, made up of people of all backgrounds and cities of origin and tourists and languages, all gasped, almost in unison.  No matter what our differences may be, we are all human.

Hey, I ran over that on Sunday!  Mile 1!

That became the theme as I traversed New York the next two days.  I finally saw the Statue of Liberty and visited Ellis Island.  I cried my way through the 9/11 memorial museum.  I stayed in a lovely garden apartment in Harlem.  I traveled by subway and quietly listened to two women trying to do good in the schools, just as I do on many a Thursday night.  I saw a community where the businessmen stand outside, greeting the people they see every evening.  I got takeout from the Queen of Soul Food.  I ate ramen at a shop hidden from the street.  I got a fist bump from the barista at Starbucks.  I got a great local beer recommendation (Interboro Brewing Double Fluffed Stout) from a Whole Foods employee.  I even got asked directions.  Sorry, it’s my first time here.  I took the bus to the airport, and waiting for my flight, met a server who had volunteered all day at the Biofreeze station.  I was told that New Yorkers are blunt and rude, but I found a strong sense of humanity and community.

 

In the end, I conquered New York twice.  Once on race day, but also navigating the city in the days afterwards.  Halfway through this journey, both five years and three stars, and I’m learning what a good traveler I’ve become over the years.  I’ve found not only the dream I want to pursue, but the passion and gumption to make it happen.  I took risks, overcame challenges, and rolled with the punches.  The scared little girl, trapped behind her mother’s anxiety in 2002, was now standing where they watched workers sift through the ashes and steel on TV every night.  Both that girl and that land has changed dramatically.  The pain and hatred inside of Ground Zero is now a beautiful place to reflect, remember, and memorialize.  The fear and insecurities in the little girl have been replaced with strength and confidence.

The Sphere, which was located on the plaza between the two towers

It may feel like the happily ever after ending, but these were the “easy” marathons, really.  The three remaining—Tokyo, London, and Boston—are much harder to gain entry.  I maxed out my network fundraising and came up just short of $5000, so work remains before I can apply to run for charity.  They are also going to be significantly more expensive than the three I’ve completed, between the two international major cities and the training regime needed to qualify for Boston on time, which is now a little over an hour.  Well, the biggest challenges in a trilogy always arrive at the very end, right?  So the journey continues, one step at a time….