The Face in the Jar by the Door

Before I quit skating back in 2011, I had decided my next freestyle program was going to be to Eleanor Rigby. 

Eleanor Rigby

Picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been

Lives in a dream

Waits at the window

Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door

Who is it for?

I have lived my entire adult life wearing the face I keep in a jar by the door. 

It’s understandable, given my childhood.  I was not an easy child for any mother, between the OCD and the high IQ, but my mother came into parenting with the scars of her own difficult childhood.  Today, she probably would have known to heal herself before becoming a parent, but back then, she saw being a wife and mother as her salvation.

She had no idea what to do with a kid who just saw the world so differently than everyone else.  A kid who taught herself how to read and do multiplication, but would get insanely frustrated if things weren’t exactly ordered in her head.  (For example, I nearly had a meltdown on the first day of kindergarten….because the school bus didn’t have seatbelts.  In 1979, when you could drive around in your car without wearing a seatbelt.)

Overwhelmed by the meltdowns and scared of what the world would do to her outlier child, she did what she learned from growing up in an alcoholic family.  Pretend.  She would say things to me like, “you know, you’re not going to have any friends if you act this way.”  “Do you know how difficult you are to live with?”  In eighth grade, I’d have to come home from school, detail every social interaction, and problem solve to see how I could do better.  Every day.

She was determined to jam my square peg into that round hole, even if my self-esteem was destroyed in the process.  Her anxiety over me was so great that she would do whatever it took to gain total control of my life, even into adulthood.

Instead of creating a confident young woman who glided through social interactions, she created a woman who felt the need to pretend to be someone else to garner acceptance.  I created my face in the jar and learned how to navigate life wearing it.  My mother loved “Face in the Jar” Erin better than the person I really was.  At one point, after a sorority Mother’s Day tea, said to me, “why can’t you be like this all the time?”  Because, Mom, it’s an act.  It’s not me.

In the process of healing from the breakup of a four-year relationship, I’ve been reflecting on connection and my connection to the world.  That face in the jar has allowed me to navigate the adult world, but I don’t feel connected to it in any way, shape or form.  I have friends, but not a single best friend who gets me on that deeper level, because it’s hard to let anyone in.  Don’t even get me started about dating, which is all about putting your best foot forward while having a good time….until it’s time to take down the façade and be vulnerable with each other.  My ex once got angry at me because I didn’t trust him.  He was absolutely right, but it never occurred to both of us that perhaps we should have stepped back from our relationship and worked on building that trust.  Instead, he decided that because I didn’t trust him, he had carte blanche to treat me however he wanted.

And that’s the thing about my face in the jar.  It’s a laid back, amenable person who has allowed herself to be stepped on, walked over, or in the case of my ex, steamrolled.  It’s someone who is easy to ignore or fade into the background.  It’s someone who never complains or creates drama for others.  It’s someone who is easily forgotten, someone who knows how to be invisible.  Someone completely different than the woman whose mind is always on overdrive with thoughts, ideas, and keeping ahead of her OCD.

One of the things that has been tumbling in my mind of late is whether it’s time to leave the face in the jar when I leave the house.  Then I look at the world right now and see all the the anger and vitriol and judgement and closemindedness and intolerance towards each other.  It saddens me that as a culture, we are so dogmatic about receiving conformation about our own beliefs that we have zero respect for someone who disagrees with them.  We are supposed to be a country where each of the 330 million people get to believe whatever they want, but instead, I see a country where if you don’t conform 100% to whatever, you are automatically horse manure…and I’m scared of how I’ll be treated if I didn’t wear my face in the jar.

Eleanor Rigby resonates because so many of us keep faces in jars by our doors, afraid of what would happen if people saw our true selves.  We’re supposed to be the champions of individuality, but instead we force people into silent conformity.  To fix our country, we need to start here, and it’s why I no longer want to hide. 

Quest, Derailed

Yes, it’s been a year.

When I started this quest, I had planned to work on my blog every Sunday, then I met a cute guy and then we started doing Sunday Funday and then it was harder and harder to find time to do the blogs and….

But I was still running.  I was still improving, still moving towards the goal of the six marathons.  The blog was just to keep me accountable, and since I was progressing, there was no need to dedicate serious time for the blog, a good thing because it seemed that I didn’t have a lot of time and energy for it.

I was helping a friend (and working on my time) by helping a friend train for a marathon.  I worked out with the Libertyville Running Club and ended up running a 7:35 mile at the final time trial.  I entered both the Toyko and London marathon lotteries (but didn’t get in) and helped out on my charity team’s committee, hoping I can get a charity bib into New York.  The quest was progressing forward, and I didn’t need to be held accountable.

At the same time, there were subtle dynamics going on around me that I couldn’t ignore.  While everyone was super-nice with the run club, it did feel like a closer circle was forming, and typical of my life, I didn’t know what I did or didn’t do to be excluded from this circle.  I couldn’t be that upset, since 1.  I couldn’t afford to keep up with them because I have to save money for the marathons 2. My life was full and busy without them and 3. I was too shy to put any effort into connections.  However, the change in the energy affected my enthusiasm for the club. 

Then we had a little election.  For 99% of the country, they are armchair politicos, watching on news and posting on social media, but really have not invested any effort to impact the outcome.  However, my boyfriend and I work in the political field, so our lives can be dramatically affected by the vote.  In a Presidential year, it’s especially nerve wracking because so many voters chose their President and vote downticket that our lives are impacted by people who don’t even know what they are doing.

This election was contentious and emotional and angry, and in the end, the national election was the complete opposite of our local results.  While you can’t make politics personal—we are professionals, after all—there is a letdown, almost a grieving process, after an election.  Usually, most people go back their jobs, their lives, just as they are, pre-election, except for that 1%, like my boyfriend and I, whose lives were dramatically changed by the results.

This year, however, was different.  Many people were upset about the election results, including many in the run club.  Not only did I represent the other side, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many helped to turn my life upside down because they didn't see below the top of the ticket.  I was already feeling a little out of place before this happened, but now I felt isolated and unwelcome, to the point that I questioned why we were even doing this quest.

It was an extremely generous gift to have found my friend Christy, then.  She saw me through all this difficulty, running mile after mile and understanding my feelings.  And at my lowest point, she gave me a very special gift—a birthday marathon in New Orleans, LA.  It brought me back to running—and eventually, back to my run club.  However, my life is still very much in flux, to the point that I can’t make major financial decisions.  Consider it a setback in my quest.  We’ll be up and running and fighting again, but for now, it’s all about qualifying for Boston and writing blog posts, because that’s all I can afford to do.

Wait, wasn’t this blog supposed to keep me accountable? (Year 2 of the Quest)

A few months ago, the leader of our run club asked if anyone had a blog because he wants to publicize them on the club website.

I started this blog to keep me accountable on my goal—six major marathons in ten years—but life has a funny way about happening while you try to make plans.  When I started this blog, my personal paradigm was that life in my forties was going to be about work and running and my cat.  The guy I had a crush on probably didn’t know I was alive, anyway….

Well, he found me.  The day before my birthday he asked me to lunch, and about a month later, I accepted.  At that lunch, he asked me to a concert, and to my surprise, actually followed through.  It was probably the most nerve-wracking first date of my life, but by summer, we had dedicated Sunday—the day I was supposed to write my blog post—as our day to be together.  Of course, when you have an amazing man, why on earth would you say, “um, no, I have to write a blog post” when he wants to spend the day with you?

So my day dedicated for blogging was filled with adventures.  Concerts and ice skating, botanic gardens and even running, days filled with fun and love.  One of the things that we have in common is college cross country, so he started running with my run club, as well as with me. 

Summer changed into fall, and he decided that he would join me in Las Vegas, running his first half marathon.  More of my time was being spent training for Chicago, but he was racking up the miles, too, preparing for Vegas.  He was my biggest cheerleader in Chicago, and after finishing a tough race, patiently waited for me to finish Vegas.

As I entered Year 2 of this journey, it was clear that I just purely didn’t have time to keep up with a weekly blog.  However, I have been running.  A lot.  With an unpredictable work schedule, I decided to save my race money for my three international marathons and train like crazy to get closer to BQ pace.  Meaning, my goal is in mileage—2016, to be exact—rather than in races.

Trying to stay on pace of this goal in winter was tough.  The cold, the dark, my work schedule, time with the boyfriend, even keeping running clothes clean were all challenges.  Even with having running friends and a great club, I have fallen behind pace quite a bit.  The blog, behind even more.

I had to step back and consider why I am writing the blog in the first place.  The goal is to hold me accountable towards my quest.  Well, I signed up for the London lottery last week.  I also started to put together the framework for being a charity runner at the NYC marathon next year.  I’m slowly knocking seconds off my runs, inching closer to Boston qualification, and really utilizing the power of positive thinking (from myself and my running club) to believe it is possible.  I even shocked myself and did a 7:55 mile last week, only 49 seconds slower than my high school PR, set when I was 15.

However, I’m still lagging a bit behind pace to do 2016 miles in 2016.  Quite a bit.  (Did you see the last post?  I’m stuck in April!)  The cold temperatures and the short days made it difficult to get out the door and run.  The days have gotten longer and the weather warmer, so I’m thinking it’s time to get streaky…

Um, not this streak...

Until I catch up a bit on the mileage, I’m going to try to grab some miles every day.  It’s a challenge because I’m 41, and rest is very important to prevent injury, so walks are included in this mileage grab, even walks that are a normal part of my life.  I also have to remember (again!) that I’m on a quest, and that the journey is significantly more important than any destination—or any goal.

It’s time to get faster, crush some serious mileage, and streak!!!  Ethel, cover your eyes!

Think It’s Easier for Those 7 Min Pacers? Think again…

One of my favorite runs with my club is Tamarack 800s.  We have a street in town that not only is exactly 800 meters, but is shaped like a semi-circle, so it is around 400 meters to get back to the start.  Perfect to do repeat 800 meter intervals.  We do them in winter, at night, so it’s often dark and chilly and snowy.  Of course, the street is a mile from a bar, so that’s our warmup and cool down.

There was a blizzard south of Chicago a few weeks ago, so a lot of people were expecting bad weather and decided not to show up.  As usual, that meant that I was the slowest runner who did. 

For a lot of people who can’t easily do a sub-10 min mile, watching someone who can run a mile under 6 minutes cruise by can feel discouraging.  On the Tamarack run, I’m often lapped by our faster runners, since my full speed is slower than their easy jog pace.  It’s not discouraging to me, however, because I can see they are working just as hard as I am, and it’s the effort, not the pace, that makes us a “real runner.”

One of the first lessons I learned in running is:  “fast” and “slow” are relative.  My first year of high school cross country, our top runner qualified for state.  My junior year, the top seven qualified for state.  I was nowhere near qualifying for state, but I had a different focus:  my personal best.  It’s something that has carried me through many, many tough workouts, getting lost, and being lapped.  I compete against the clock and my Strava account, not what everyone else is doing. 

It didn’t matter that I was slower than everyone else.  A couple of people decided to skip the speedwork and run Tamarack Street backwards, so I never felt alone or unsafe.  I enjoyed the beauty of the evening and the comradery of everyone pushing themselves to their limits.  I had fun!  When I came back to the bar, I was treated like a runner, not a has-been.  But….going out and running, regardless of pace, is going to make me faster than sitting at home.

So don’t feel discouraged if you aren’t super-fast.  You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.  Runners are welcoming and generous and encouraging.  We’ve all had those runs where we’ve gotten lost, where it’s taken much longer than we expected, where our heads are faster than our legs.  We admire the runners who take 6, 7, or 17 hours to finish a marathon just as much as we admire the ones who can do it in less than 3 hours.  Focus on your own improvement, train hard, and have fun.

I Finally “Anchored” a Relay, and it was Awesome… (Marathon Training, Week 5)

The last couple of weeks were missing entries because I was traveling to and from Louisville, Kentucky, for American Mensa’s Annual Gathering.  It was a great time, and I was able to do most of my mileage, but as with most vacations, lots of unhealthy food and beverages and too little sleep.  It was fun, but I’m glad to be home and back to training.

On Thursday, I participated in an unique fundraiser for a local high school cross country team.  We were in teams of seven, running a relay race where each runner did a mile before tagging to the next runner.  The winner would then be the team who accumulated the most miles.

Of course, my run club doesn’t go halfway…we had a plethora of food, chairs, Gatorade, and even a game of bags to play.  (We were one the rubberized field, so the fire pit and s’mores stayed in the car.)  The goal was as much to have a good time as it was to PR on the individual miles, and the DJ helped to create a festive environment.  My team decided on a theme of costumes, so we had jorts, troll hair, ugly sweaters, and twins.

It had been years since I had “raced” on a track, especially a 1600, and I had complete forgotten how to warm up and prep for that distance.   Plus, the last time I ran a relay was probably for our grade school’s Junior Olympics field day.  When my “twin” tagged me, I obviously went out way too fast and just died at the end.  8:31.

A friend who also ran showed up and was kind enough to read splits.  So helpful, because it kept that first 400 in the 2-min window.  My second was an “adult” PR of 8:22.  (My actual PR for the 1600 is 7:06, which I did at 15.)

As the night wore on, mental fatigue wore in.  Our team had some trouble counting laps—at one point my twin ran up to me and said he was done, but I thought he had only done two laps.  However, we kept going and going and going….8:25, 8:27.  I finished my fourth mile, laid down on a blanket, and realized I was covered in sweat, despite it being a cool evening.  While decent times (and definitely sub-BQ pace), I was disappointed.  I had been working hard, so I had hoped to see a significant improvement in my mile time.  Perhaps if I had been home training I would have been fasher

By the end of the night, we started to count through the team, and based on everyone’s approximate time, I would be the last runner.  Anchor leg!  I was tagged at 3:54, so I figured I could do about a 1200 (3 laps).  After the first lap, the team captain ran with me, talking, while the theme from Chariots of Fire played.  It was surreal with the lights, the high schoolers passing me, the music, the splits being read, the cheers….and I was about 40 m short of a full 1200.  Epic movie moment, and a great way to end the night.

It was a great night of comraderie, teamwork, fun, and community spirit.  I can’t wait until next year and have another chance to smash a PR!

Everyone Loves a Parade (Marathon Training, Week 2)

This week included endless 400 repeats, a great new clubhouse, and the rowdiest, sugar-pumped entry in the local parade.  Oh, yeah, and 24 miles.  However, the highlight was Saturday morning….

I got to the “early miles before the club run because we have a parade today” group about 20 min late, so I didn’t get to start with the group.  However, I was able to do a four mile loop and get to the actual start at 7 am, meeting up with the club and doing five more miles.  I didn’t want to go all the way home and back, so I wore my parade getup to run club—a club singlet and pink shorts. 

I have to say that wearing a team uniform always powered me to run faster, and yesterday morning was no exception.  I may not have been going faster, but I definitely felt faster.

After the run, I headed over to Starbucks to chill before the parade lineup started.  One of the baristas is a member of the club, so we chatted a bit.  It started to get super-busy, and a family sat down in the chairs near me.  Their order got messed up a bit with all the insanity, so I scored a free mocha.  I was set for the parade.

Now, I am a parade veteran.  I think I’ve done 30 or 40 for work, so I knew about all of the little details that people don’t think about when putting together a parade float.  Like that people love bringing their dogs to parades.  Since we were handing out donut holes to the kids, I figured that I would shop around and get a couple dozen donut shaped dog biscuits to complement what the club was doing—and was thrilled to find the perfect product:  Gourmet Tails Festive Donuts.  I threw them into an empty donut hole container, and I was ready to go.

We were a huge group of participants, with half a dozen parents with running strollers, superheroes, people running laps around our entry, kids handing out donut holes, and even two dogs.  It was loud and crazy and fun, probably the most entertaining entry of the entire parade.  At first, the strollers did formation runs, but as the kids ran out of donut holes, they joined in….to the point where the entire club was running formations and having a great time.  As I handed out my “dog donuts,” I would announce that the club meets on Saturday mornings and that all paces are welcome.

After we were finished, we took our time getting back up the parade route and our cars.  It was a fantastic morning, a fantastic showing for the club, and a great way to cap off the first hard week of marathon training!

Feeling Like a Kid Again

Running-wise, it’s been a great couple of weeks.  I joined Strava, a combination social media and fitness tracking app, which has been great to keep me accountable on my runs.  I was using Nike+, but the app just drained too much of my battery on runs.  Strava has a sleep mode, so it’s not as taxing to the battery.  Of course, I joined the run club group on Strava and enjoy all the kudos, as well as giving my runs clever titles for everyone else to see.

After work on Monday, I did a short five mile run I do all the time.  The end is a short downhill slope, and I sprinted down the hill.  It was like I was back in high school, where our home cross country course ended down a hill and into the chute.

Saturday, the run club had a scavenger hunt as a going away party.  It was Texas-themed, so we had a group of adults, dressed in Western wear, running around all over our town, posting photos and videos on a Facebook event page.  Running around, from clue to clue, I somehow logged six miles, but again, felt silly and childish.

Within all of the good feeling, there has also been some seriously fast runs.  Five miles at sub 10 min pace, 8.5 miles at sub-11 min pace.  It’s like in addition to recapturing my love for the sport, I am recapturing my speed.  Given my goal—a sub 5 hour marathon—I’ll take both!

The Running Club that Goes Beyond Running…

(Well, it’s the so very awful Monday that starts out realizing you never finished your Sunday journal writing.  Sigh.)

I’ve blogged about why I joined a running club and how important it is to me in my training, but the past few weeks I’ve been reminded about how the social side to a club helps your mental health and wellness.

While running and training forges strong bonds with teammates, whether it’s the high school cross country team or the local running group, it then expands with discovering common interests away from the path or track.

My sophomore year of high school, I’ll never forget spaghetti dinners at different teammates’ homes and the routine of singing “Piano Man” and “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling” on the way home from meets. 

When your running club often meets at bars after runs and has the motto “Running and Shenanigans,” it is inevitable that someone will see a poster for a concert or trivia night, and say, “hey, let’s go to this!”  Next thing you know, you’re doing karaoke to Jon Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” just because it became an earworm this week. 

On Friday, one of our members decided to enter a hula hoop contest near my office, so I walked over and was part of a large crowd to cheer her on.  The restaurant also has a games night, and as we waited for the contest to end, I mentioned that I have an old set of Axis & Allies, so we agreed to meet at one of these games nights to play.

Saturday night was wild and crazy and fun and bonding, just as much as that awful speed workout or that time someone got lost on the trail run.  We started with pedicures.  Normally, I don’t spend money on a luxury like a pedicure, but my feet, especially my toes, have survived two seasons of marathon training, plus a half marathon.  My nails have the marks of being bounced around running shoes for miles and miles, to the point where I’m having trouble keeping them trimmed and pain free.  So it was time to give my feet some professional attention. 

Not only was the pedicure worth every penny, but the time spent with the other girls was just as valuable.  I have wonderful friends, but the closest one lives over an hour drive away, so I’ve been craving a local social life, local girlfriends for quite some time.  Hopefully the time spent with the other girls will help open doors to having local friends.

However, I may need to get a second job just to cover my social life.  Our club does road trips, and in November, they are going to the Rock & Roll Marathon in Las Vegas.  I discovered that there is a five hour time limit (remember, my PR is 5:39), but it seems like exactly the push I need to work hard over the summer.  Plus, Vegas.  I need to ask for the time off of work, but once I have, I’m buying my bib.

In the meantime, is it wrong that I’ve already picked out my song for the next Karaoke night?