About Simone Biles and Mental Health

Finally, it’s the Olympic Games!  I remember getting so excited for the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles, watching the Opening Ceremonies while checking off the delegations on my world atlas.

That was five months after my mother sat us down to watch Torvill and Dean in Sarajevo, the only perfect Olympic ice dance performance in history.  Little did I know then that I would become an ice dancer myself, decades later.

It's not the Olympics, but definitely nerve-wracking!

We were glued to the television set those 16 days in the summer of 1984.  From Mary Lou Retton to Carl Lewis to the first women’s marathon, I loved all the Olympic sports we didn’t normally see on television, and like most kids, dreamed of being an Olympian.  Of course, it was pretty clear that I just didn’t have the athletic talent to get there, nor the dedication to do the same thing over and over and over again for years to achieve that dream.

Still, watching the Olympics became a regular tradition, and now having participated in both a Winter (figure skating) and Summer (marathon running) sport, it’s very special to feel a connection to the stories playing out on television.  I know what it’s like to face a panel of skating judges or trying to manage a hot, sunny race day.

This is what I will tell you, after two decades of athletic training:  it is HARD to be an Olympian.  You train day in and day out in relative obscurity to perform your best at one competition that only occurs once every four years. 

Or, if the world shuts down due to a global pandemic, five years.  2020 was a terrible year to be an elite athlete.  Facilities closed and locked down.  Competitions cancelled.  And when they announced that the Olympics would be postponed, many couldn’t turn to the one thing they’ve done for decades to soothe their mind—practicing their sport. 

It’s been a very long fifth year for these athletes, and watching these Games, it’s very clear it is a very different Olympics.  Parents are watching from home.  Audiences are made up of media and fellow athletes—at least, those who are still competing as they are sent home as soon as their events are finished.  For the athletes, who are used to competitions being a certain way, it must be discordant, disruptive, and distracting to not have a full arena of cheering crowds—or more importantly, a hug from Mom and Dad before their event.

Like so many others, I was shocked that Simone Biles withdrew from the ladies’ team final due to a mental health issue, but once I saw her vault, it completely made sense.  Even though she had made little mistakes at both the trials and at qualifying, that vault was just….wrong.  It was very clear her mind was in a very bad place, to the point of danger.  Thankfully, she was able to land on her feet instead of her head, go backstage to talk with the team doctor, and make a decision that kept her safe.

….and social media exploded.  Armchair experts, criticizing her decision, telling her that the Olympics are about “pushing through” challenges.  People who can’t do a cartwheel or somersault, never mind a double twisting double pike, thinking they know what’s best for an athlete who has spent the past five years mastering her sport for this very moment while juggling the responsibilities and expectations of federations and sponsors. 

It was too much, and her mind….broke, separating from her body to the point that she could no longer physically do her sport.  Had she broken her ankle or—gasp—been taken off the floor on a stretcher on her way to the ER, there would be outpourings of sympathy, but since she is physically fine, it didn’t make sense to people who honestly, don’t understand how mental health really works.

Well, it made perfect sense to me.  It seems so long ago when I was running negative splits through Central Park in the New York City Marathon.  Taking a break to heal after the marathon turned to hustling multiple jobs to keep my head above water to surviving a global pandemic.  Just like many who struggle with mental illnesses, the stress over furloughs and disease and isolation and “not normal” triggered my OCDP contamination fears to spiral out of control, to the point where making a plan to run with friends is dictated by the various anxieties and rules created by my illness. 

Physically, I’m fine, but it has become so much a fight in my head to go running that I can’t.  It’s not something I can think away or push through or get over myself, because that will trigger a full-blown, self-destructive panic attack.  Like Biles, I have to find a way back to the basics, back to figuring out a way out of this hole, because I still have three marathons to run, including Boston.

Cashed in some gift cards for a new toy...just working on that insane step goal right now.

However, it’s not just about sports.  I struggle getting out the door of the house on time because I just can’t get my hands correctly clean.  People suffering from depression literally cannot get out of bed in the morning, while anxiety sufferers can get trapped in their own worried thoughts.  So many people having to fight their heads, their thoughts, every day—just to be a functional, productive member of society.

We have all faced mental blocks.  Maybe it’s a task that you just can’t start—or can’t finish.  Maybe it’s overcoming a fear or anxiety.  Maybe it’s having a confrontation or difficult conversation.  We have the training, the skill set, the ability to do it, but our minds just scream, “no!”  When your mind is blocking you, even from doing something you love, there is no escape. 

And when that block is about twisting and flipping and trying to land on your feet, you have to withdraw from the Olympic Games.  Even though these athletes make it look so easy, it’s not. 

After watching Mary Lou Retton win the all-around gold medal in 1984, I asked for—and received—gymnastics lessons.  I realized very quickly that not only did I not have the strength to do the basics we were learning in our group lessons, but that I was scared to do simple skills like handstand roll downs and back walkovers.  Gymnastics is a dangerous sport, and after my first meet, I decided it wasn’t my thing, moving on to the much safer ballet and tap dancing.

(I never did ask for figure skating lessons because I knew they happened before school, and my mother struggled to get us to school on time as it was.  Ah, hindsight.)

It’s not a surprise that so many Olympians and professional athletes have supported Biles in her decision to withdraw from the Olympics.  Every top athlete lives with the pressure from the obligations they have to their sport, their federation, and their sponsors, never mind what they place on themselves to keep winning, to keep succeeding.  At that level, it’s not enough to be at their top physical condition.  They have to be mentally strong to overcome all the nerves that come with being on their sport’s greatest stage, and over the years, we’ve seen many talented athletes come up short as their minds struggle with the stress, stress that many sitting on their couches at home take for granted because it’s so invisible.  Until Simone Biles said, “I can’t.”

Simone Biles might come away from Toyko without a gold medal, but she has given us all a lesson in mental health. 

Back in the Saddle

I’m back in the saddle again.

A short warm up run

To start the work week.

I huff and I plod along,

Enjoying the green buds and the birds’ chirp,

The start of spring.

I think about how I felt in NYC,

A lean, mean marathon machine.

That was a long time ago.

I may be out of shape, 

But my mind is stronger than my body.

Stronger than when I started this quest.

I’ve grown.

The Grind

I’ve been a chemistry tutor for over five years.  What started as helping out a friend has become a new career, and I’ve added math, including calculus, to the mix this year.  Gosh, I so missed solving hard math problems.

Many people think they’re bad at math because they don’t have all the answers instantaneously.  They don’t even know what skill they need to start a problem.  Chemistry is challenging because it’s usually the first time you’re using math to solve science—an entire year of those dreaded word problems.

One of the many secrets to mastering math and chemistry isn’t a formula or a cheat sheet or having mad skills.  It’s being able to attack each problem, each test question.  Look at what you’re given, look at what they want from you, and go from A to B.

How do you do that?  Practice.  The practice of doing many, many problems until you are able to attack anything that might be thrown at you.

It’s no different than anything else you practice—an instrument, a sport, an art.  In order to master any subject, you have to do the grind.  The grind of waking up and doing the same thing day after day.  The grind of focusing on perfecting each little detail.  The grind of continuing to move forward so slowly that you see more failure than success.  The grind of brushing yourself off after each failure and getting back on the path.

Over the years, people are in awe of my chemistry degree, like I have this amazing talent.  To be honest, it’s just that my love of the subject gave me the determination to grind out problem after problem.  I can’t sleep on an unsolved chemistry or math or computer programming problem, often waking at 2 am to finish what I started.  It just tumbles in my brain, crying to be solved, just like the baseball player down the street throwing curveballs at a net late on a summer evening or the oboe player next door playing the same measure of music over and over again on a Saturday morning.

Of course, it’s easy for someone with a passion for baseball or a talent for playing the oboe to do the grind, but have you ever heard someone express a huge passion for being a cog in a Corporate America cube farm?  How do you grind at something you don’t love?  That doesn’t come easily for you?

How many of you loved school when you were in second grade, but hated it by the time you were in high school because the classwork was just so hard?  How many of you grew up playing Little League or taking dance lessons or studying piano, but quit when it seemed that you had hit your limit? 

I joke that I’m the utility ballplayer of life because I’ve done so many things, but quit before I had mastered them.  I’m competent in a lot of skills, but not exceptional.  My resume goes from research chemist to quality consultant to executive director of a political party to tutor.  I’ve taken dance lessons and piano lessons and figure skating lessons.  I played clarinet in the school band, nine years total.  Even where I do have talents, math and science, didn’t help me push through the challenges in college.  I graduated with my degree, but barely.

It’s hard to believe that a year ago, I was on top of the world with my running, having negatively split New York through the hardest part of the course to break 5 hours and get my second fastest time.  2020 was supposed to be the year I took a break from racing to focus on how I could get that Boston qualifying time.  Then the world shut down, and my focus turned to survival.  As the months tickd by, and races continue to be cancelled, delayed, postponed, and modified, I thought about my quest to finish all six majors by my 50^th birthday.  The deferments, the cancellations were definitely going to impede my ability to grab slots in Toyko or London once things returned to normal.  There’s usually half a million people who apply for those lotteries in a normal year, but what now?  As for Boston, losing one, if not two years for charity runners will make it even harder to get one of those coveted spots, and I’m so busy trying to survive that running has taken a back seat, derailing my efforts to qualify.

I have five years to get into three major marathons.  I’m barely scraping by, financially, my mental health is a mess, and there are now millions of runners who didn’t get the spots they thought they’d get this year.  How on earth am I going to finish this quest?

Then I thought of my students, past, present, and future.  How many of them feel dumb at school?  How many hate doing homework because they just don’t even understand the lesson?  How many want to give up and say they can’t do chemistry or math?

Tutoring isn’t just about AP exams and letter grades.  It’s about helping these kids overcome challenges, solve problems, and learn how they learn so they can apply these skills for the rest of their life.  Odds are that you won’t have to use the ideal gas law or Rolle’s Theorem in your 40s, but the skills that got you through those assignments and tests, will.

Just like my quest; it is more about the journey more than the end result.

In 2021, I need to figure out how to do the grind when it’s something that isn’t easy or fun or exciting or interesting.  After some soul-searching, I came up with three things I’d like to accomplish this year for three very different reasons.  They are all going to take that grind, though in different ways:

1. British accent.  As a high school drama kid, I was always jealous of my classmates who could switch into a British accent without even thinking about it.  When I got a part in the fall play and had to do five lines in accent, I spent hours and hours listening to Brits read books on tape, trying to figure out the intonations and pronunciations, but never feeling like I got it right.  Now, with YouTube and Zoom and all sorts of tools (there has to be an app, right?), as well as maturity and wisdom, perhaps I can master something that I was convinced I couldn’t.
2. Daily routine.  It’s been a year, right?  As I navigated the roller coaster of part time work and furloughs, I saw a lot of my regular maintenance routines falling apart from running to brushing my hair every morning.  I’ve put down the list of things I do want to accomplish every day.  It may not be fun or exciting, but going through the steps to get my life reset will do wonders for my mental health.  (If you were wondering about running, it’s part of this routine.  Baby steps.)
3. Blogs and Coffee.  As part of my daily routine, I’m reading blogs I find on Twitter over my morning coffee.  I had a great idea a couple of days ago to use the hashtag #blogsandcoffee to share the blogs that I’m reading.  Now, I’ve had a lot of great ideas over the years that get lost on the wayside for a number of reasons, so my goal here is to post #blogsandcoffee every single day in 2021, even if it’s a tweet to say why there wasn’t a #blogsandcoffee.  Maybe it will develop a following, maybe it won’t, but at least I ground through the challenges and finished what I started.

Unlike most New Years resolutions, which have an endpoint, I am creating a focus, an intention, to grow as a person, regardless of whether or not I meet my goals.  If I figure out how to grind through things I don’t enjoy, it’s powerful—and it’s a power I can teach my students so they can succeed, whether it’s third grade math or AP Physics.

Also, rather than a personal, specific goal, it’s a theme we can all take together.  Let’s face it.  2020 was a struggle in many ways.  We survived, but not without damage.  We’re not the same people who started this year, but to continue to thrive, we need to continue to evolve.  We need to grind through our challenges, whether it’s AP Calculus or working from home or figuring out how to change the oil on the car.  What are you needing to grind through in 2021? 

I Was on a Break....from Running

Global Pandemic.  Record Unemployment.  Civil Unrest.

Not what I was thinking when I said the 20s would roar.

It’s been a year—no, wait, a decade—and we’re only seven months into the 2020s. 

Our New Normal

Wait, isn’t this supposed to be a blog about fun and running and traveling around the world?  Well, when the marathons cancel and borders close and the run club stops meeting and you get furloughed from two jobs, running takes a back seat to life.  Life, as we knew it, had changed.

I wasn’t in a good place when this all started.  My mental health took a huge hit last August, and I’ve been slowly trying to get back to functional.  Things that you may take for granted, like the steps you take to make it to work in the morning, are very stressful to my OCD mind.  There are just so many steps, and if I don’t do them right, the anxiety surges, just like an electrical power surge.  Do I have a clean outfit?  Do I have a clean coffee mug in the dishwasher?  Did I remember to brush my teeth?  Did I brush my teeth before I put my shoes on?  Did I make sure to only touch the door handle with my pinky finger?  Did I wash my hands after touching (water kettle, sink handle, laptop keyboard, dryer handle, fridge, or anything else in my house)?  All while trying to get out of the house at a time that gets me to my job on time.  I’m exhausted before I even put my key in the car.

Running, especially running with a group, has all of that, too.  How am I supposed to put my hair in a ponytail without contaminating everything?  Where do I put my purse while I’m running?  What about my car key?  And shoes.  I’m afraid of shoes right now.

I can run or work, but I can’t do both.  And I have to pay the bills.

It’s so frustrating, after such a victory in New York, to have slid down to a place where I’m going to have to start over from scratch.  Unlike a physical injury, where your body is begging you to stop and heal, you feel like such a failure because you can’t get yourself out there.  The negative thoughts creep in (because your brain is already hurting) about how I’m going to get to do these last three marathons, especially Boston.  I’ve gone from “I can totally qualify for Boston” to “I’ll never run Boston” in the span of six months.

Then I think about why I run and what I love about running.  For me, it’s the meditation, the ability to let my brain get exhausted by the physical effort, to be outdoors and see new trails.  It’s the companionship of friends as well as the quiet solace of an empty trail, hearing only the wind and the birds.  Then I think about all the athletes who not only have seen their competitions and races and Olympics get postponed and cancelled, but also stuck at home, unable to do the training that they love so much, that would alleviate the grief of losing their Worlds or Olympics or Boston Marathon.

Running cannot be a chore.  It has to be my solace, not my obligation.

Quests are never easy.  Even Hollywood fills epic quests with monsters and quicksand and Eyes of Sauron and Darth Vaders.  I knew five years ago when I started my quest that there would be epic challenges (though not a global pandemic that would completely shut down the US for months), and the point of the exercise was how I grow from the challenges laid before me.  So I will face my struggles, heal my mind, and find a new path to traverse.  Some day, I will cross that sixth marathon finish line and kiss the ground.

I want to get back to this woman

We are all challenged now with so many things right now.  Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Treat each other with love and kindness.  Open your hearts and minds.  Let’s walk together.

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?

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!

Mind Games, Part 1

I’ve been running mile after mile after mile, but it doesn’t seem like I get any faster.  It’s what makes running—actually, any athletic endeavor—a challenge:  your mind.  Mine is more that my brain moves at the speed of light, but my feet struggle to do a mile under 10 minutes.  Long runs are both a constant stream of conscious and a constant feed of “I’m bored.  I’m so flipping bored.  How much longer do I have to be bored?”

Of late, I’m disappointed with my slow, slugglish pace when I upload my run.  It’s very discouraging when I’ve done so much speed work and run my recovery miles, yet rather than improve, I am still at 12+ min pace, rather than the 10:30 pace I’m trying to reach.  I don’t have a choice here; to qualify for Boston I have to be able to run a marathon near 9 min pace, and even if I’m wearing a charity bib, almost all the runners finish before five hours.

It’s always been a struggle to get motivated to do the longer runs of marathon training because they take hours, and then I’m spent all day.  Add in winter where I’m not running as much during the week, and I feel even slower.  I had started dreading the long run, the time, the boredom….and I wanted a distraction.  Of course, I’m the type of runner who when distracted, slows down even more.  Not helpful. Also not helpful…not having a big race on the horizon because there’s no PR for me to chase.  I needed a reboot, a way to push myself through, to maximize my limited time with mileage.

About a month ago, I started out on my Sunday recovery run, feeling sluggish and slow, tired and battling a headache.  While it was a recovery run, I did have a deadline:  the sunset.  My route would take me on trails that closed at sunset, 7:05 pm, so that was the cutoff.

After about a mile and a half, I hit a stoplight and checked my watch:  6:34 pm.  I thought about the route and guesstimated that I would really have to push myself to finish the trails in a half hour.

The trail coursed through the local high school’s athletic fields and then followed some power lines.  It seemed like I could not get out of the high school area, but as I turned onto the trail at the power lines, I could see the trail all the way to the golf course.  “Oh, that’s not so far,” I thought.  “Maybe I can do this.”  I coursed down the hill, and as I crested the hill by the golf course, I checked my watch again.  6:47 pm.  18 minutes is totally doable.

I ended up leaving the park at 6:58 pm, about seven minutes ahead of schedule.  My next deadline was to finish in under an hour, or 7:15 pm.  It was about two miles, so well under my usual pace.  I pushed onwards and hoped for the best.

As I made the last turn towards home, I was surprised again.  7:08 pm.   I had reached two goals I didn’t think possible on a day like today.  It’s amazing what happens when you make up your mind to do something…..

(to be continued)

Star #1: Chicago

Sometimes, you can be perfectly prepared just to be derailed by something you cannot control.  A perfect description of the Chicago Marathon.

I was ready.  Well trained, fully tapered, recovered from my cold with plenty of rest, and mentally determined to succeed.  I had a blast at the expo with my boyfriend, picking up my packet, taking pictures, and collecting tchotchkes.  I came home, packed my bag, and got to bed super early, knowing full well that rest might be illusive.

After a snooze at 3 am, I woke up at 3:35 am from alarm #3.  I was up, out of bed, and munching on a protein bar, thinking, “hooray, I get to run today!”  I was out the door and through the 7-Eleven (to buy my morning coffee) so early that I was the first person at the train station.  As soon as I got settled, one of my clubmates walked through the door of the station, ready for the start line.  Most people bring a change of clothes, wallets, water bottles, and other accouterments, so I couldn’t help but break into a smile to see him so ready to go.

We hopped on the train and had two more clubmates join us at the next stop, all filled with the nervous excitement of race day.  While the other three were in the fast “A” corral, I was the only one who had run Chicago previously.  My stomach was a little queasy, but I chalked it up to the coffee, the lack of sleep, and the nerves. 

We got into the city and headed for the Congress Hotel, where we were meeting the rest of the club.  About a dozen were in the lobby, complete with our hot pink running shorts.  A couple pictures, and it was time for the first wave runners to head to the corrals and me to my charity team check-in.  I walked north on Michigan with them, all a bundle of nervous excitement, as was I. 

On our way north, we bumped into another clubmate.  It was her first marathon, and she had been injured this summer.  Originally, she was going to start with me, but another clubmate who was closer to her pace was in a corral behind her.  I told her to start in the further corral with the other clubmate, who I knew would do a better job pacing her. 

One thing I love about my charity team is that we do a private check in, locking our bags in a monitored office instead of a tent in Grant Park.  I got there after the first wave runners left, and talked to the coordinator.  Apparently we had a lot of first time runners, and the coordinator remarked how calm I was.  (Ha!)  Well, it is my third year.  Talking to the runners, I asked who they were running for because with my charity, every runner has a friend or family member who has cystic fibrosis, and it’s a good reminder of when we get into the tough miles.  I put my bib on, drank a couple glasses of water, and used the restroom a couple times.  I was ready.

Two young women were leaving at the same time I was, so we walked over to the corrals together.  It was their first marathon, ever, and they were running for their brother who has CF.  They asked for advice, and that was simple.  “You will be challenged.  When that happens, think of your brother, and you’ll find the strength.”  We slid through security, and the photographers wanted a picture.  I told them to take a picture with just the two sisters—a great family memento. 

I scurried over to my corral, looking for familiar faces.  I wanted to start at the back of the corral, since my friends would most likely be in the next corral.  The pace group near me said 4:40, nearly a full mile/min faster than I wanted to pace.  I decided I wanted to be further back, but there wasn’t a 4:55 pace team.  It made my strategy easy:  don’t push until I met up with the 4:55 pace group.  I also was watching for my clubmates headed to the corral behind me, as well as if they were going to be in my corral.

It was a much longer wait than past years, when I got to the corrals right before they closed.  I milled around a bit, looking for familiar faces (and hot pink shorts).  Not seeing anything familiar, I then did what I always do at this moment:  chat with the people around me to allay my nerves.  My first marathon, I actually met someone who had a friend in common.  Small world.  No luck this year, but I met a person who moved to Texas over the summer—and was thrilled that it was “only” going to be 77 degrees. 

Then my stomach started to rumble, and it wasn’t the type of rumbling you wanted to have in a crowd full of people.  It was the rumbling of intestines that was dealing with something that didn’t agree with them.  Like I wasn’t nervous enough.  But….I had trained all summer for this race.  I had worked so very hard on hot days.  I had persevered when my intestines grumbled and rumbled.  One mile at a time.

We slowly moved forward to the start, and as I crossed the start line, it was a mix of emotions, the adrenaline rush of starting a race tempered by the nerves of how my digestive track would feel being bounced around by running.  It was much better than expected, and I was jogging easily, waiting for the 4:55 pace group.

The first mile went quickly, and the clock read 1:01.  If I did an 11-minute mile, it meant that I cross the start line around 50 minutes, making it easy to pace.  The spectators, however, were making it difficult.  I bumped into three people trying to cross the stream of 40,000 runners, one of whom was walking a bicycle.  As we started to turn to go north, I bumped into my first clubmate, who was trying to finish about my pace.  It was all smiles as we greeted each other, happy with excitement and adrenaline, but it was clear that I was feeling faster, so he urged me to keep cruising instead of waiting for him. 

When I hit the second water stop, I was greeted with an empty table.  Knowing that it was supposed to be a warm day, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was.  I ended up waiting for the volunteer to pour a cup, rather than moving along to one of the later tables.  While annoyed a bit at myself, I was grateful that it was early and not late in the race, when picking up water at later tables would be critical, especially on such a hot day.

Miles 2, 3, and 4 were easy, about 11 min pace, following the magic blue line that indicated the official measurement.  As I turned the curve to enter Lincoln Park, I met up with a runner in full firefighting gear.  I wished him luck, and then I got a tap on my back.  It was another clubmate, Trish, complete with tank top and hot pink shorts.  She had started behind me and was running well.  After a little chatter about pace, she told me to follow her.  The next few miles were just fun, chasing her around slower runners and feeling strong.  However, I was torn in my head because while I was enjoying myself, it was a smidgen faster than I had been pacing—and we had a long way to go.  I decided that since I was having fun and ahead of pace, why not.  We passed the senior apartments and waved to the residents, took the big turn in Lakeview to head back to the Loop, enjoyed the drill team and feathered queens in Boys Town, and jogged down one of my favorite parts of the course. 

By mile 10, I couldn’t keep up, but I was also looking for a special cheerleader—my boyfriend, who promised to be at the corner of North and LaSalle, before I made the turn into Old Town.  He was there as promised, with sign and cowbell.  I asked him how I looked, and he said, “strong.”  I gave him a kiss, told him I’ll see him at Mile 23, then trotted off to the next water stop—where I saw Trish again—and Old Town.

Around mile 11, the adrenaline was starting to wear off, but then I saw our old Team CF coordinator.  I knew I didn’t have a lot of time to chat, but I smiled and waved.  It seemed that every time I wanted to give up, there was another reason to push forward.

It was now around 10:30, and it was warming up.  I thought I would be drenched in sweat as the temperature was climbing, but I wasn’t.  However, the sponges at the next aid station felt so good.  As we returned to the Loop, race marshals were directing us to run in the shade of the buildings.  Soon I noticed that there were no lines for the porta-potties, so I took a short potty stop.

That stop threw my digestive track a bit out of whack, but I still grabbed the energy chews.  I hadn’t eaten in over five hours, and I figured that I needed the sugar and electrolytes.  I grabbed a cup of water, then walked while I ate the chews.  I then saw the clock.  Doing my back-calculation, I was right at pace, 2:30, which made me even more nervous because I thought I had been much faster.  I really had to pick up pace….but I couldn’t.  The chews had made my stomach turn completely upside down, too nauseated to run. 

At this point, I stopped having fun.  The 4:55 pace group came by, and I tried to start running again to keep up with them.  I couldn’t.  I was feeling very sick, so much that the things that usually motivate me through the second out and back—the crowd, the noise—was making things worse.  On top of it all, losing the pace group meant that I had lost my goal, a sub-5 hour marathon. 

As I walked along, trying to settle my stomach, I tried to plan what to do.  My cell phone was locked back up in gear check, so I couldn’t call my boyfriend.  Going to a medical tent could cause a lot more trouble than it was worth, especially when my emergency contact, my boyfriend, was driving down to mile 23 to see me with the rest of the running club, and trying to get to a medical tent at mile 15 or 16 would have been difficult.  Also, I hadn’t seen Heidi or Ann, so I wondered how they were doing.  I decided to try to make it to mile 23, then just stop.  I was ready to stop.

I meandered along, mostly walking, trying to find my run club teammates who had started behind me.  I felt tired, sick, and upset that after a summer of hard work, was going to fail at my goal.  The crowd, who had started cheering early in the morning, started to look tired as the sun passed noon and the temperature got warmer.  Water station tables were empty of both cups and volunteers, and even the puppets in Pilsen and the dragons in Chinatown were MIA.  It was exactly the opposite of my goal this year.  I wanted to feel strong, like the 4:30 runners in the inspiration videos I watched all year, and I wanted to be running in an excited crowd.  Instead I was trudging along in the back portion of the pack.  Rather than crowds, it was a smattering.  It was hard just to not crumble up and cry, but I was determined just to get to mile 23.

Even in all this frustration, there were points of hope.  At one water stop, I was surprised by a girl wearing a jacket from my local high school.  Like many of the volunteers who were sticking it out, she encouraged me to take her cup of water, even though I was already holding a cup.  As I started into Bridgeport, I met up with another guy who was walking.  His goal was more than an hour faster than mine, but an injury had him waylaid.  When a friend passed away earlier that year, he and a group of friends decided to run the marathon, so it was definitely not the day he planned.

Suddenly, I noticed a familiar shirt, one from a local charity.  I excused myself from the young man and trotted up to the man wearing the shirt, which happened to be a fellow runner with our club.  I was so happy to see him, despite my stomach troubles, and he was walking too, due to a foot injury.  We caught up about how our day was going, and he even encouraged me to run a bit.  I started to feel normal, but tired, when I got to the Mile 23 sign…

One of my clubmates spotted me about 25 feet before I got to the party that was Mile 23, where our entire club situated.  I cannot describe how happy I was to see a huge crowd, plus my boyfriend, waiting for me, the final member of the club to pass.  Of course, when I told them I was ready to quit….they wouldn’t let me, even my boyfriend.  Two members, I found out later, finished the marathon, then ran the three miles to this point to cheer the rest of us on.  When a friend asked what I needed, the answer was simple.  “Ice,” I panted.  After chewing and swallowing the ice, I felt better enough to keep going, and I raced forward to catch up with the clubmate I saw before I got to mile 23.  I surprisingly felt much, much better, just in time for the best photo spot.

When I turned north on Michigan, I was surprised with a “Go Erin!!”  It is popular to put one’s name on their race singlet, but here’s why I refuse to do so….it was a high school classmate I haven’t seen in decades.  Since I didn’t have my name on my singlet, I knew it was someone who recognized me rather than reading my name.  It was just the boost I needed to finish strong.

Here I was, hot, tired, and three miles to go….and then another clubmate appears.  He was coaching a charity team, and gave me a coach pep talk before he sent me north.

The last three miles of the Chicago marathon are the hardest.  You are exhausted, but as far as you can see is a marathon.  The turn into Grant Park—and the eventual finish—is about three miles away.  It’s hard, at this point, to mentally motivate yourself to drive to the end.  Since I wasn’t able to push as hard as I hoped in the middle third, I had some extra energy, and I was passing hot, tired runners left and right.  Before I knew it, I was running up the hill in Grant Park and through the finish line.

I was, in a word, exhausted.  I didn’t pause much longer than to pick up my food bag, a water bottle, and my finisher medal, then headed back to my charity team’s bag check.  My boyfriend was there with a bouquet of flowers, a hug, and a kiss.  I grabbed by bag and checked my facebook updates.  To my utter surprise, I took 8 minutes off my PR with an effort significantly less than I desired.

Writing this post, I was disappointed how quickly I lost my mental edge once things didn’t go according to plan. Had I just walked until my stomach calmed down, then leaned on my training to get back in the groove, I would have smashed my PR rather than tripping over it.  It was truly not the race I wanted to have, but there were a lot of lessons to learn for my next marathon.

One down, five to go…..

Rivalries and Nerves (Marathon Training, Week 18)

Six days before my first marathon in the quest, and nervous wreck.  Why?  A rivalry.

Now, I love friendly rivalries, the ones that push both of us to do our best and come from a place of friendship and caring.  It encourages me to be a better runner and person.  But there are also times where my Type A competitive nature gets the best of me. 

There’s a girl in the area who when I switched back to running, tried to take me “under her wing.”  While I appreciated her insight, she didn’t seem to understand that my goals and attitudes about running were very different.  I’ve been doing this competitive athlete thing a very long time.  I’ve been the kid too slow to make the varsity team when the team qualified for the state finals, and I’ve been the adult skater who was in first place at Adult Nationals.  I’ve weathered through illness and injury, but I’ve also struggled with motivation and confidence.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that your passion has to be in the process of training.

When we first met, I assumed, based on her constant signing up for races, that she was just as passionate about going out and running.  Nope.  She really didn’t do a lot of training runs, spent quite a bit of time nursing various aches and pains, and was tied to her walk/run intervals.  Plus, her attitudes and advice were definitely shaped by having the financial means to purchase gear and sign up for races.  Not only am I on a tight budget, but much of it didn’t exist when I started running. 

I really don’t care about other people’s running journey, since karma dictates that you will get out of the sport what you put into it.  But I’m not perfect, and her attitude just pushed my buttons.  Perhaps it was that she didn’t have the work ethic.  Perhaps I was jealous that I couldn’t afford some of the stuff she did.  When I saw her, I would work harder, run further, go faster, and for most of the summer, I was ahead of her. 

Well, in the past few weeks, she’s started to push herself, closing in on me.  On Sunday, she broke 5 hours in the marathon, a goal that I’ve been working so hard to do.  My heart just sank, and it triggered my past mental demons, from both skating and running.  I was nervous, thinking, “What if I’m not faster than her on Sunday?  If I’m not as fast as I want to be, can I redo?”  A long deep chat with the boyfriend eased the jittery feelings, but not the nerves. 

On Monday, one of my skating friends, trying to practice her Silver Moves test, posted the following advice to herself:  Do your best, and do it with joy.  It was the message I needed to hear.  I need to focus on my own race and not worry about what everyone else is doing.  Especially someone who is on a very different journey.

In less than 24 hours, Marathon #1.  A little excited, a little nervous, ready to do my best, and ready to do it with joy.

Food, Glorious Food (Marathon Training, Week 16)

Two weeks until the big marathon, Major #1, and I’m having some, um, digestive issues.  Mainly, that I either have to take a long bathroom break in the middle of a race or give myself hemorrhoids (or both).  When you talk about five hours of running, the discomfort and distraction is significant, and as I get closer to qualifying for the Boston Marathon, a bathroom break can mean the difference between qualifying and “see you next year.”

Now, I am the type of runner who tries to roll with the punches, no matter the circumstances.  There’s so much I can control (my training, my diet), but there’s a lot I can’t control (the weather, how my body will feel, illness, injury).  However, this bathroom issue is in that grey area:  I can control my diet, I can time my bathroom breaks, I can run through every discomfort, but I can’t control how my body will react to the race.

However, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get everything through and out my system, so the bouncing of running creates the need for a bathroom break.  I’ve eaten big meals, small meals, high carb, high protein, meat, no meat—with no relief.

My next plan is to significantly increase my fiber and water in the next week or so, to “clean out” my digestive track, and then hope there won’t be any extra left.  Wish me luck!

Diva Moments (Marathon Training, Week Thirteen)

Sometimes, racing shows us our worst moments.

A couple weeks ago, the leader of our run club posted a deal—a half marathon in Wisconsin with a $35 entry fee.  I couldn’t resist, and signed up, knowing that it was a new marathon to a new location.  I questioned that decision all week, because I would have to drive myself into Milwaukee, figure out parking, get to the pickup on time, and basically stressing about getting to the start line on time.

I’ve been doing this running thing FOR 26 YEARS.  You would think that getting to a start line would be old hat.  Nope.  I worry about oversleeping, missing trains, getting lost, not leaving enough time….it goes on and on.  Actually running the race is easier!  As a result, I don’t have much stomach for cutting the time close.

(Side note:  I don’t do a ton of races.  Partially because they’re expensive, and partially because I don’t run to race.  I run to enjoy beautiful scenery, clear my mind, release tension, and stay healthy, and racing all the time doesn’t really do any of that.)

If I’m driving to a race, my plan is always to arrive when registration opens, giving me plenty of wiggle room.  I usually need to stop twice—once for my breakfast of coffee and a protein bar, and once for a potty stop—so extra time is never a bad thing. 

My sweet boyfriend, hearing my whining about logistics, offered to drive me up to the race, despite having to be in Chicago later that afternoon.  He thought that leaving an hour to get to the race was plenty of time; I wanted to give some buffer time.  At first, the trip was easy, telling us that we’d get there around 7 am, a full half hour before packet pickup closed and an hour before the race.  We decided to stop at a big box store so I could use a flush toilet, then as the rain poured down, purchased ponchos.  I was starting to get nervous about getting there on time, since the stop took longer than I expected.

We got back in the car, looked at the GPS, and suddenly it was predicting a 7:21 arrivial.  Way too close.  I tried to stay calm, but then not only did we get turned around by the GPS, but it directed us to a public transit parking lot across the river.  By that point, it was 7:05, and I was two steps from a full-on panic attack.  Yes, there were 25 minutes, and it was a small race, but we didn’t know where we needed to be.  I pulled up the parking assistance map, which seemed to indicate that we needed to enter the park on a neighboring street.  My boyfriend saw the entrance to the park, but I yelled at him to instead take the next left, assuming that the roads in the park were being used for the race and were closed.  When we got to the park entrances on the map, we discovered they weren’t roads, and my boyfriend kept going, looking for a park entrance.

At this point, I needed out of the car and into the park.  I was fully panicked and convinced we’d be circling the park past the packet pickup.  I told my boyfriend to stop and I’d meet him later.  I streamed out of the car, flying into the park and towards the start line.  I was shaking with panic when I got to the packet pickup….and as it turned out, had plenty of time.  My boyfriend walked up to me, shaking his head.

It was an eye-opener.  Chicago is an easy marathon for me, since I’ve completed it twice.  When I do the other marathons in my quest, getting to the start line might be complicated by unfamiliar instructions and in two cases, foreign languages.  The adrenaline of panic can cause me to go out too fast in the first couple miles, which really need to be calm affairs.  I’m supposed to be channeling Cinnamon Carter, not panicking into the unknown.

The reminder is that I have to do more research into my races before I leave so I’m not uncertain, plus adding more buffer time for the unexpected.  Having a better sense of where I was headed would have lessened the panic and turnaround time.

I’ve signed up for a 20 mile supported training run with friends, so I hope it will go more smoothly.

Marathon Kick-Off!

This past week I have been super lazy, almost tapering because I start training for the Chicago Marathon.  Of course, “lazy” means “less than 10 miles.”

Today I kicked off marathon season by running the CF Superheroes 5K this morning.  Last year, it was a 90 degree day, so to turn around and be in the upper 40s this morning was a surprise.  I had planned to wear my marathon shirt from last year, but with the forecast, changed to my LRC long sleeved shirt.  I still wore shorts, and despite being a windy, chilly day, was very warm after the first mile, so I was very, very glad I didn’t keep my warmups on.  The chill (and the positive energy from the LRC) made me push all that faster, and I ended the day under 30 minutes for the 5K, not far from my collegiate PR.

It is hard to believe that when I did my first LRC run, I looked at my run app, realized that I was running sub-9 pace, and thought, “holy cow, I am sprinting.”  On Tuesday, marathon training starts in earnest with a track workout and a mile time trial.  My goal is to run that mile around 8:45.  I’ve come a long, long way in a short period of time, and I have miles and miles to run before October.

Of course, full training is more than just running.  I have to purchase my pool pass for the local park district.  I have to clean and prep my kitchen so I can cook and eat healthier food.  And as a charity runner, it means fundraising… 

I kicked off my fundraising with an online Origami Owl party.  Their main product is lockets that you can customize with various charms, from a 26.2 to crystals in a rainbow of colors.  It’s very much like those online parties for other direct sales companies, except that I’m giving my hostess proceeds to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.  I would be a horrid fundraiser if I didn’t post the link and code.  To purchase, go to superangie.origamiowl.com and use the jewelry code:  95450

And thus I start my first mission on my quest.  18 weeks of running and fundraising, with some swimming, some distractions, some challenges, and some adventures spattered in the mix.  There will be lessons learned and wisdom gained, achievements and setbacks.  I’m looking forward to this next chapter.

Running as Therapy

Yesterday I was able to do a long-ish run to clear my head.  For me, the rhythm and pace of long runs are meditative, thinking about all the things going on in my life.  Work, home, friends, dating….it can be incredibly overwhelming at times, especially when I’m still recovering from having the rug pulled out from under me almost four years ago. 

They say that time heals all wounds, but it’s also amazing how quickly I can be pushed back to that day—Labor Day, 2011—when the love of my life told me he didn’t love me.  In six words, my entire future ceased to exist.  I was left alone to face a difficult world, not knowing what to do with myself.  Very slowly, I have built a nice life, but nothing as wonderful and perfect as when we were together.

Running has been my salvation in the years since that moment.  Solo runs give me the time to think about all in my life, a way to pound all the stress and frustration into a speed workout, a way to feel an accomplishment on a day when you feel overwhelmed, or a way to sort through all the various thoughts and emotions in my head.  It’s probably why I appreciate the solo run so much, and why I can’t race every weekend.

This quest, to do these six major marathons, is a continuation of the healing process.  Bad things happen in life, and will you choose a path towards healing or a path towards destruction.  I want to choose the path towards healing, that day of someday feeling that inner happiness and light again, so I gave myself a goal that forces that decision towards health and wellness.

I’m lucky that I have access to miles of beautiful trails, and yesterday I went to an overlook by a lake.  The beauty of the trail, as well as the overlook, was just the soothing my mind needed as I pondered my place in the universe.  My mantra of late has been “There is no such thing as coincidence.  God does not make mistakes,” but my own emotions often make it hard to hear His intentions. 

Running clears the mind, makes it easier to hear all of the random thoughts bouncing around.  Feeling rather not-confident about some things, I recalled a mantra posted on someone’s Facebook wall:  Confidence is not ‘They will like me.’  Confidence is ‘I’ll be fine if they don’t.’  In my head, it translated into:  Confidence is not about being perfect, it’s about knowing it’ll be fine if it isn’t perfect.

That mantra hit home.  I had spent two days in sheer panic, due to one question:  what if the future isn’t perfect?  Well, doh, the future is guaranteed to not be perfect.  And of course, it wasn’t.  So I woke up Saturday a jumble of thoughts and tears.  In nine miles a talk to myself about how miserable I was—and why was I so miserable transformed into a realization that everything will be ok, that the less-than-perfect is part of God’s plan, that I was putting too much pressure on myself to predict the future. 

If I am going to reach this goal of finishing all 6 majors in 10 years, I have to be able to bounce back from adversity, challenges, injuries, illness, jet lag, and who knows what else?  I need the confidence that comes from knowing everything will be fine, no matter what life throws back at me.

I’m glad I got out there and ran.  My negative energy came out in the sweat dripping off my forehead, and I was ready to choose happiness instead of self-pity.   So when life gives you lemons, go out for a run.