At last night's run workout, our coach emphasized that we're getting to the part of training where things get tough. Time is tight because of extra holiday commitments, training miles and expectations are longer. Days are colder and shorter. Racing a marathon is half legs and half mental (I'd say half heart). So she posed two questions.
- Why are you doing this? Why are you choosing to spend $$$ on training, shoes, cold weather gear, gels, 20lb. bags of ice, entry fees. Why are you choosing to get up at 6 or earlier 5 days a week to run, spending three plus hours on Saturdays running long, going to bed early on Fridays, skipping that extra glass of wine or gluten free beer, or not having any at all?
- Will it still matter if you don't achieve your goal? What if you get sick or injured the week before the race, and can't even make it to the start line? What if something happens and you can't finish the race, or don't meet your time goal?
If I didn't know the answers before, hiking the Appalachian Trail taught me my answers for questions like this. Because I asked them of myself while I was on the trail.
Point One: I love running. Most of my family probably thinks I'm crazy; they'd only run if they were being chased. What do I love about it? I feel at home in my body after and often while running; it often feels more natural to me than walking; it clears my head and makes me a nicer, happier person; I experience cool stuff - like feral monk parakeets at breakfast, the changing colors of the leaves, incredible sunrises, steam rising off the lake, snoozing cormorants, and other creatures. I meet interesting people who can converse in runner's lingo. I also love testing and pushing my physical abilities. I'm pretty naturally athletic, but it wasn't particularly encouraged by my family. In fact, I was discouraged from playing the sports I wanted to play, or given "appropriate for girls" alternatives. Boo! So, for years I was a closet runner, no racing, I just did it because I liked it and it made me happy. I didn't have "running clothes" and maybe replaced my running shoes every two years. Only in the past 10 years, and particularly the past 5, have I really given myself over to the pursuit of athletic goals. I invested in training and really began to nurture that aspect of myself and I feel there's so much more I'm capable of. So, I'm doing this to test my abilities, see what I'm capable of, to get better. I'm no fan of progress for progress' sake, I don't want my toothpaste to be "new and improved" every year, but when it comes to my personal abilities, I get a lot of satisfaction from the work to improve my fitness. I enjoy hill repeats and track intervals, tempo runs and fartleks. I know they pay off and I feel great when they're done, but I actually enjoy doing them, too. For me, they are worth the sacrifices.
Point Two: Absolutely. It took me 1700 miles of the AT to get this one, but in Glencliff, New Hampshire, when my hiking partner, Journey, went home and it was just me, Gracie, and the unknown trail ahead (arguably the most difficult sections - with threats of water crossings that were deep, swift, and cold; possible early season snowstorms; a dwindling window of available time; and the most challenging terrain yet) I knew I had to continue and that I would continue unless I felt I was putting myself or my dog in danger. I had reached a state of peace about the hike - if something happened and we had to go home, I would be disappointed, but not devastated. It would all have been worth every moment. I felt it, I knew it: the Journey was truly the Destination. The friends I made, the miles, the bugs and rain, the months of aching knees, the sweat and the tears, the fear, elation, peace, pain, frustration, and joy, and yes, the food I was able to eat were worth every step taken. It is the same with my marathon training. Regardless of the outcome of the race, I have gained new friends, a new level of fitness from which to start training for whatever's next (I don't expect this to be my only marathon), and the delight of encouraging and nurturing something I love about myself. The satisfaction of dedicating myself to a goal, and persevering to see it through. Now that I think about it, running was one of the first things I did to really take care of myself - body, mind, and spirit. Which brings me full circle to my love of running, and why I ran so many years without racing. Granted, at the moment I am training for an ambitious time goal but ultimately, it's not about the clock.
An introduction, because I can't think of anything more compelling this evening.
I chose to participate in Holidailies 2010 for several reasons. I used to work with Jette (Holidailies founder), knew about Holidailies from it's inception, and this year she suggested I "like" Holidailies on FaceBook. A few entries back, I described how a recent horoscope (Free Will Astrology) encouraged me to update my blog more regularly, and Holidailies seemed like a good motivator to put my writing out there on a semi-regular basis, and perhaps create a new habit. But I wouldn't have considered it had Jette not reminded me of it.
This is not the first time Jette, unbeknownst to her, has been instrumental in motivating me to do something. Back in 2000, when we worked together, I found out she'd signed up for a triathlon. I had been wanting to race a triathlon, had a lot of time on my hands (I'd just gotten out of a relationship), but was scared I wouldn't be able to swim the half mile required for the race. When I heard she'd signed up, I thought, if Jette can do it, why can't I, and the rest is history. So thanks, Jette, for inspiring me to do yet another thing that scares me a little.
Things you can expect to see here: posts about my favorite things: training (currently for my first marathon), food (best reason for running, mostly gluten free, dairy free, and healthy, but I do have my favorite indulgences - hello, Chocolate), my dawg, and whatever else I decide to throw in about stuff I like and stuff I do. And I usually manage to work in a reference to my thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail.
A demonstration - I could hardly wait to get home after tonight's run workout to make myself a basil pesto-black olive-red onion pizza, on Glutino gluten free crust. With a name like Glutino, I don't expect much. They actually make the best gf pretzels, which were a rare but exciting find in trail town grocery stores, but their bagels/pizza crusts have more of a yeast roll taste and consistency. Quite passable, but Udi's pizza crusts come far closer to the mark. I'm curious about the Udi's bagels, which have been waiting in my freezer for sampling. Happy Holidailies!
After a week and a day, I have running water in my bathroom again, and let me tell you, indoor plumbing never loses its novelty. I said that alot while hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2009, and the more I think about it, the more I think it is a universal truth.
I like my 3/4 bath with its vintage tile and pedestal sink. Last year I swapped out the toilet seat for a blue plastic one I'd salvaged from a 50s house I helped tear down. This year Eddie gave me a new set of faucets and Thanksgiving weekend seemed a good time to tackle the replacement. Two trips to Home Depot, four trips to Breed & Co, and eight days later, success! Gotta put in a word for the dudes in the hardware department at Breed (central location). That is my absolute favorite place to shop when I'm working on a project. More than half the time (this project not included) I walk out with spot on advice and no merchandise. They know their stuff, have everything I might need, and know where to find it in the store. You just don't get that kind of service at the big box home improvement stores. And they have killer truffles.
So, here's how the faucet replacement went down. I consulted a website or two to get some tips on the replacement. And headed to the conveniently close Home Depot for teflon tape and a nifty pipe wrench. The old faucet disassembly was simple enough. I was delighted to learn the waterline connections were the same size on the new faucet. Much thanks to the Eddie for the basin wrench. Here's the old faucet, minus the pop-up drain, which I'd already pulled.
All the gaskets were shot, the slip-joint extension for the drain pipe was in sad shape, plus, my first attempt at pop-up drain installation revealed a desperate need for plumbers putty. Off to Breed I went. Next, I installed the new pop-up drain and flange. A simple task made challenging by the limited workspace behind the pedestal. After getting it the drain in place I tried to reconnect to the p-trap, to discover I needed to take about 5/8" off the end of the drain pipe. Disassemble, cut, reassemble. Connect p-trap to drain, install faucets, pop-up drain lever, and reconnected the water lines. The moment of truth. I turn on the water and sadly, discover a leak at the p-trap connection. Tighten the connection some more. Still leaking. Dangit. I suspect it's the gasket, so back to Breed I go, and return with a different type of gasket. Still leaking. By this time it's late Saturday afternoon, and I'm tired of messing with it.
I think about the plumbing all week. When I finally get back to it the next weekend, on closer inspection I discover a little light filtering through the ell-shaped pipe that goes into the wall. Lovely. I start to think perhaps I need to call in a plumber, but I'm not ready to give up that easily. That pipe does not want to come out of the wall, but several hours after applying some WD40, I get it loose. In the meantime, I've been back to Breed for the replacement pipe and more gaskets, since the helpful hardware man explained on a previous visit that I only needed to hand tighten the nuts, and that the gaskets were getting pinched and were only good for one use. After cutting about an inch off the end of the new pipe, I get everything in place. Moment of truth #2 Still leaking, but now from hairline cracks in the j-bend pipe. By this time it's funny.
It's late, it's Sunday, and I'm really not motivated to drive all the way to Breed, so I fall back on the convenience of Home Depot, since I know what I want and where to find it. I install the new j-bend and finally, everything is working as it should. Exciting, no? Here's the purty new faucet:
Lesson learned - just buy the whole p-trap replacement set already.
The State Plumbing Examiners Office is not far from my house. I often wonder if they have a crack team there...
What does it take to be a successful thru-hiker or marathoner (which I'm not yet, but well on my way toward)? It's a mixed bag of characteristics, but I've realized a couple of things that work for me, and seem to be part of my nature, are a willingness to suffer (happy suffering, as Willow would say) and a short memory. Case in point, this weekend's 18 mile hilly as all get out long run.
Thursday prior I felt really fatigued and took a 1.5 hour nap (one of my favorite perks of freelance/contract work) then slept 10(!) hours that night. Friday I started to feel the beginnings of a cold - itchy/scratchy throat, sinus drainage, and by evening, sore throat. Now my Thursday fatigue made sense, but this did not bode well for the next day's long run. I did what I could to take care of myself - neti pot, EmergenC, salt water gargle, and hoped for the best.
Saturday morning I got up early enough to repeat the neti/gargle regimen. Long runs have entered the realm of "I've never run this far before" and this is my first marathon, so my sense of discipline and my fear of not being fully prepared for the race have me really committed to the training schedule. It also means long runs take on race morning excitement and energy. Which may explain why I felt a little better Saturday morning than I did Friday night. Still, I halfway hoped I'd see my coach early in the run and that she'd send me home when she heard I was nursing a cold. No such luck, but by the fourth mile, I'd mostly forgotten about it. That's not true. Every time we approached a water stop for the first 3/4 of the run, I hoped my coach would be there. When she wasn't, I reasoned that I didn't feel that bad, so I kept going. Willing to suffer in pursuit of a goal.
So, the run had quite a few long, steep hills, but two days later, I only remember two of them, and my general reaction is "those weren't so bad." Granted, it helps to have a frame of reference that includes plenty of Wilke and Hill of Life repeats, plus any number of mountains and the entirety of southern Maine on the Appalachian Trail. They provide points of comparison (whether or not accurate) from which I can tell myself "if you did X, you can certainly do this." Looking back at the entirety of the run, the only reminder of its difficulty is the soreness in my quads, which I'm still feeling today. Mentally, I'm still thinking, "that wasn't so bad."
The two things I most want to remember from this run are the sight of a majestic buck standing on the lawn in a residential neighborhood - so still I first thought he was a lawn ornament - as we ran by. And that I did it.
Here's the elevation profile from the run - doesn't look that bad, right?
Breakfast/brunch is one of my favorite meals. I've had some giant honeycrisp apples in the fridge waiting for me to have the motivation to create something worthy of their greatness, and today was the day.
I sauteed the apples in butter and grade B maple syrup, with a bit of lime juice, dash of salt, and dash of cinnamon.
After I put the apples on, some raw walnuts went into the toaster oven for toasting.
Pancakes followed the Bob's Red Mill gluten free pancake mix recipe for one batch, using unsweetened vanilla almond milk, and 1T ground flaxseed/3T water egg substitute. I had one egg left from the New Mexico farmstand, and wanted to eat it on its own, so fried it in the pancake pan as the last two pancakes finished side two of cooking.
This was one of the best breakfasts I've made for myself in awhile, worthy of my birthday weekend. Unfortunately, the camera battery was dead, and I wasn't about to wait for it to charge before I ate. There are leftover pancakes, and one more apple I can fry up, so perhaps I can get a photo then. In the meantime, the house smells like apple pie.
Forgot to mention how everything ended up on the plate: bottom layer of two pancakes (side by side), then most of the apples and toasted walnuts. One more pancake, the last of the apples, and more walnuts to top it off. Egg on the side. All the running makes me hungry!
Facebook - I enjoy keeping up with what's going on in my friends' lives, but lately, I've not wanted to condense my life to a few lines in a status update. Staying silent was the choice I made for awhile, but it left me feeling closed off and frankly a bit voyeuristic. Not good for me. I happened to read my horoscope for this week, which had some rather odd, but welcome advice for this Scorpio. In a nutshell, update the blog. I took it as a sign, and just the amount of encouragement I needed to lurk less, blog more.
With that bit of business taken care of, today's topic is running. I've been a runner for the better part of 25 years. I started when I was 16, not as part of the school track team or through any organized training, but because I felt terrible about my body and my self. That was the year I started my period (a whole other topic I may or may not ever get to), and really started to wonder what was wrong with me that boys weren't interested in dating me. Here's the part where I tell you I was quite clueless about my sexual orientation for another nine years, which, yes, is another topic or ten. Back to the running. I was starting to get some womanly curves and cellulite and was not happy about either one. So I started running up and down our 1/10th mile driveway. And I discovered I liked it. It felt good, and I felt good. Both when I ran and afterward. So I kept running.
One of the things my mother and I share is a love for shoes, and shoe shopping. Particularly at discount shoe outlets, which there was a dearth of in my hometown when I was in high school. So we would take these all day shopping excursions to Pasadena, Clear Lake, and places I can't even remember, so absorbed was I in the array of shoes from which to choose. Shoes were the one aspect of my wardrobe my mother did not have any interest in shaping. She never tired of suggesting cute, feminine articles of clothing to this devout tomboy, but shoes got a pass. So, when I added a pair of discounted New Balance running shoes to the stack of Bass loafers and saddle shoes (tomboy prep), there was no argument or explanation necessary. And I kept running.
I ran my very first race when I was in college. It was a 5K to benefit the college orchestra, as I recall. Part of my motivation was to support the orchestra, something I'd been a part of in high school, but dropped to make room for more FFA activities. And I was curious about racing. I have no recollection of my finishing time, but I remember enjoying the test of my abilities, and I remember wearing that race shirt for many years afterward. The next race was the 4th of July Heat Wave 5 miler in my hometown. I think I was still in college and it was the longest I'd ever run. Heat wave was right. I stopped sweating in the last mile of the race and almost got heat stroke. My mother was not pleased, but looking back, it was fun. I didn't race for quite a few years after that. Mostly because I was cheap and broke and reluctant to part with the standard race fee. But I kept running.
After I married, I quit for about a year, but my body and soul missed what running gave me, so I started back. I was probably on my second pair of New Balance running shoes by then. When my husband & I moved into central Houston/the Montrose, I started running through Rice University. I remember having a breakthrough one morning as I exited the central loop through campus and headed back to our apartment. I'm not doing this for anyone but myself. I don't care what anyone else thinks about how I look or how my body looks. I run for me. It was a powerful moment, and a precursor to my acknowledgment and acceptance of my sexuality.
Running has been a near-constant thread in my adult life. Through the many changes in our marriage, separation, and divorce, I kept running. When I moved back in with my parents, the driveway was shorter, but I kept running. As I discovered how to live on my own as a gay woman, I kept running, grateful to be back in a neighborhood near Rice and it's familiar paths. When my first girlfriend moved in, I stopped. For almost five years. Toward the end of that relationship, I started running again, and promised I'd never give up that part of myself again.
I ran at least a couple races a year after that, did my first triathlon, and started thinking about a marathon, which had been on my life list since I was in high school. I was in another relationship by then, but still running. Then my left knee started to hurt. An MRI did not show any damaged connective tissue. Physical therapy and a break from running were all I could really do. So for six weeks (that felt like six months) I biked and swam. For the second time in three years I started back running. Within a year I was doing triathlons again. In three more years I was single again, trying to survive the worst breakup I'd ever experienced. Often, as I headed out for a morning run, I'd feel as if getting hit by a truck would be better than having to keep feeling so much pain. But I kept running. At the beginning of 2006, realizing I hadn't done many of the things on my life list, I set a goal to do an Olympic triathlon. A dear friend encouraged me to train with Team in Training, and through that organization I discovered the benefits of good coaching and came to appreciate my love of running and the gift that it is.
I focused on triathlons for a couple of years, but running was always my favorite part, and my strength. When I was hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2009, I missed running. I remember one glorious afternoon in Pennsylvania when I realized I'd dropped my water filter some ways back on the trail. I left Gracie & my pack at the shelter where we'd stopped, and tore back down the trail. Without the weight of the pack, I felt like I was flying and I ran as fast as the terrain would allow. It was pure bliss and I remember wondering how much better my running would be by trails end. When I got back from the hike, my body and psyche were wrung out, beat up, and depleted. I tried valiantly to run in the first few weeks after I quit hiking. I knew from my triathlon experience that I needed physical activity to combat PTHD (Post Thru-Hike Depression). But my body wasn't having any of it. My feet hurt for at least two months following the hike, and my knees barked at anything other than walking pace on level ground. My runner's heart was despondent. For a long time, I didn't want to do anything physical. The times I did, my body said otherwise. At a time when my sure-fire antidote to depression and malaise was unavailable, I was entering into a dark night of the soul. My life was full of uncertainty and questions. I felt heavy, lonely, doubtful, afraid.
Where once I ran, I turned to food. Biking and hiking were out of the question according to my knees. In retrospect, yoga or swimming would have been more beneficial than for me to continue eating like a hiker. So why food? The simplest answer is that I was looking to feed an emptiness. And that would be a topic for yet another post. Thanks to the motivation of a dear triathlon buddy and running partner, I eased back into running yet again over the winter. Dark six am runs at Lady Bird Lake can be a really good start to the day. Bringing things full circle, I was glad to be running in the dark because I was struggling with my body image again. By summer, every now and then I would feel like I was getting my pre-hike body back. What I know now is that I will never again have yesterday's, last month's, or last year's body. Today I am better able to enjoy the body I have in the present moment and what it is capable of, and to have compassion for it and myself when I feel the pull to make comparisons or self-target.
So, now, 25 years from when I started, I am in the middle of training for my first marathon, with an ultimate goal to qualify for and race the Boston marathon. The sun is rising after the long, dark night. Sometimes I have dreams where running feels plodding and awkward, but me and my body feel good these days when I run. I still struggle with compulsive eating, but I have more awareness and compassion, and I'm working toward finding balance around the compulsive behaviors in my life. And I'm still running.
Long time, no post. Up to my eyeballs in work. Not complaining, especially in this economy. Bonus - steady work keeps me from making up trouble in my head. Especially trouble that isn't real. Have a bit of time on my hands today, so will try for an trail journal post or two.
Peace.
