Eureka!

Second bad long run in a row for both T and I. Last week I blamed it in sudden weather changes. This week it dawned on me -- we are both wearing the same shoes we completed the marathon in. Duh. My legs are hurting because my shoes are dead.

Looks like I get to spend Monday on a Columbia trip to buy new running shoes. Chances are, I'm hanging up the 2130s (or whatever number they are on these days) for something with better arch support.

Yay for new shoes. Boo on crappy-feeling long runs.

Back on My Feet

It's a phenomenon that is happening more often than I like. Just before Christmas, I shared that a romantic comedy made me cry. This morning, an article in Runner's World is making me pause every few paragraphs to avoid bursting into full-out tears.

Yesterday was one of those strange magazine days. I found both the February and March issues of Runner's World in my mailbox. And not wanting to get ahead of myself, I've been paging through February while sneaking jealous glances at the March issue. That is, until I settled in on this story.

I turned to the middle first, where I saw a funny pull-quote: "It's like I'm doing a butt-lick." Solomon yelled. The runner beside him looked puzzled. "I mean fartlek!"

What on earth kind of story inspires that kind of quote? I paged back. "The first time Mike Solomon smoked crack, he ran."

Surely this isn't a story telling runners they should start drugs...

Course not. It's a story about a running ministry. A group of homeless men led by a Crazy Running Girl, who believes training for a half marathon will help them get back on their feet -- hence their name "Back on My Feet."

You can read the story online here.

A little under a year ago, I accidentally provided the catalyst for an ecumenical clergy group -- men and women who meet once a month at the Salvation Army shelter. We talk about the needs of the shelter and folks who are staying there -- and the ones who are unable to get in. We talk about how our churches can get involved.

I'm not entirely sure the shelter needs us -- the woman who essentially runs the place is an incredibly gifted person. She is passionate about the people who set foot in her "home" and loves them dearly. I'm convinced anyone who hears her speak would immediate do anything in their power to help -- so she hardly needs a group of haphazard clergy and a goofy religious reporter (that would be me) to motivate church members.

But we need them. We need to be reminded that our daily actions have an impact on how others live -- or don't live. We need to step into the shelter and see the artwork on the walls and hear the stories of the individuals who rely on the location where we meet for their next meal; for their home of being back on their feet.

Back on My Feet and the Friends of the Salvation Army Coalition remind me that we all need someone to count on. We all need to know someone is with us. Whether that is a fellow runner or someone who sacrifices her time to sit beside you in a hospital room and rejoice with you on the good days.

The folks of BOMF (as they call it) have learned that there are no shortcuts in the world of distance running. The road knows when you've put the miles in. And the same is true in life. We can accomplish amazing things when we take that first step and put in the hard work of living well.

Walking with the big dogs

I had a fantastic revelation while eating lunch. I hate football. No that isn’t the revelation. But since about 95.6% (give or take) of the U.S. population would be enjoying the Super Bowl game – or at least the commercials, I would go to the gym. It was brilliant.

I loaded some lectures onto my rarely used mp3 player and prepared to listen to Madeleine L’Engle or Tony Campolo or Don Miller while trying out the 3-in-1 cardio machine.

Got in my car, put on my retired Mizuno running shoes and prepared to put my fabulous idea into practice. Only one problem. I got to the gym half an hour before it would close for the day. Who knew they closed at 6 on Sundays.

Determined not to waste my cardio energy, I decided to park at the trail head and get a good walk in.

While listening to Madeleine talk about fantasy (read more about this on my non-running blog at http://doveintheattic.blogspot.com/2009/02/fantasy-of-faith.html), I set out on my familiar trail.
About a mile and a half out -- past all the office buildings and the Italian restaurant –- I see a rather large dog next to the trail. As I saw no person with the dog, this gave me pause. It begins to cross the road, and I follow it with my gaze. Another dog. They seem to be headed away from the trail, so I keep walking. Then I see it. Something too big to be a dog following behind. That’s when it hits me –- these aren’t dogs, they are deer. My this point, I’m less than a quarter mile away and still walking -– more slowly now -– toward them. A fourth deer stops before reaching the road and looks at me.

I pause Madeleine, amazed by the scene before me. The four make it across the road about the time I reach the place they had been standing on the trail. Then I hear it. To my left, in the little wilderness area by the trail, are at least three more deer (it’s dark at this point, and we are far enough away from the streetlamps that I can’t tell the still deer from the rest of the landscape). A couple are still moving around, and one – the biggest – studies me. I stop moving and look back. We both stood there for a moment or two; both curious and perhaps cautious. I hear a clicking noise, and they all run back in the forest.

And I realize: this is not something that happens in a gym. BUT, since I’m listening (or at least was until I paused) to a talk on fantasy, I had to picture running on a treadmill while a herd (or flock or gaggle, whatever) of deer frolic by in front of me. As fun as that would be –- I think the outdoors have got something magical!

So, all you football fans, keep your game and your commercials. I’ll keep walking with the deer.

Testing the limits

I run my LSD runs at a faster pace than my weekday shorter runs. I suppose that means calling then long, slow days is inaccurate. But having long fast days and short slow runs on weekdays sounds ridiculous -- even if it is true.

Running with a partner pushes me to go beyond my comfort level. I can't get away with an easy pace because I'm accountable to someone else. So I (mostly) rise to the occasion. I will my legs to go faster and my lungs to keep working. I start estimating where the next quarter mile falls and staring at that point until I reach it -- and discover I've gotten worse at determining quarter miles!

We ran today's 4 miler in only ten minutes more time than last week's 3 miler -- and given that our pace is generally slow than a 10-minute mile, this is an exciting thing. It means we were faster this week.

Tiffany, who often morphs into my personal trainer, told me -- as she sped up -- that she had a goal for me to shave 15 minutes off my half marathon time. Days like today remind me it is possible. I'm faster in community, and I like that. Nice little theological moment showing how much we really do need each other. I need Tiffany to believe for me when I feel my body is going to give out -- it never does, but it's hard to believe that alone. She needs me to say "hey, guess what -- we're going to be marathoners." I guess I believe for her that we can tackle distance. Who knows, without each other, she may be content to be a 10k runner, and I'd be a happy 13 minute miler! With her -- as she so kindly pointed out -- I get to test my limits. And so far, I'm crashing through the barriers.

3 more pounds down this week. Hoping to lose 20 by race day...

Running rhythm

Step. Step. Step. Step. The rhythm is familiar. And this time of year, I not only hear, but see my breath. I breathe, I step. I step, I breathe. It's the way of the road.

I watch people walk to and from their cars. They look at me puzzled. The snow hasn't completed melted, ice lines the sides of the roads, and I'm out pounding the pavement. "Someone chasing you?" Yes. Myself. The non-running Jennifer is back there, reminding me of what I was before I tied on a pair of runners. The Jennifer who didn't understand what it is like to cross a finish line and feel the cold weight of a medal around her neck. She doesn't get the exhilaration of making the impossible happen.

Sometimes I feel her catching up to me. Those moments when my legs feel too tired or the bad running days get the best of me. The days when I don't want to leave my house.

Today was not one of those days. Today I grabbed my balaclava, layered up and waved at the old Jennifer as I raced past. The rhythm of the road has won.

Running therapy

There is a great onemoremile slogan: "Running is cheaper than therapy." It is ranked as one of the top contenders for the shirt I will buy myself for completing the half marathon in April (because apparently, the only time I can purchase from them is after completing races... I think I need to rethink this plan!).

However, I'm beginning to wonder whether running is therapy for me, or if I've just turned Tiffany into my counselor. Probably a combination of both.

During the last half mile of our Saturday run, we were giving ourselves a pep talk about all we accomplished this past year. Neither of us thought we'd ever be marathoners. We shared stories of how excited we were after our first 5ks (again), and I voiced aloud how with my first 5k, half marathon and marathon, I felt I had something to prove. I thought others on the course were thinking "what is SHE doing here? Like she can run this distance..." And of course, no one else was worried about me. *I* was the one who doubted. And I'm good at continuing the doubt "what if I can't do it again? what if I have completely forgotten how to run?"

And while there have been plenty of days when it felt my legs didn't remember, I keep being able to pound out the miles.

They say running is mostly mental. Seems that the phrase has two meanings. It not only takes building of mental strength, but it changes you mentally, too. I'm not sure whether it is the endorphins, the thrill of accomplishing something I never thought possible or simply time to process... but I like it.

---
In health/fitness notes, I lost 1 pound this week. Yay! I like when the scale moves in the downward direction. I took my fitness test at Wilson's this morning and scored Excellent in core strength (crunches), Good in Strength (sitting bench press), Average in Fitness (heart rate recovery after step test) and Below Average in Flexibility. Not sure what was up with my heart rate. It was at 116 when she checked it after I sat down. Have to say I was disappointed in that "average" fitness assessment. Guess I need to train for an ultramarathon instead!

Registration... check!

Finally took the time to register for Go! St. Louis. Active.com registration always includes the question "is this your first half marathon or marathon?" It was fun to be able to answer "no" for the first time.

Now that I'm over the winter season depression, I'm really looking forward to this race. Last time I ran a half marathon, the distance was brand new. Those last miles were REALLY hard. After completing the marathon, running 13.1 with thousands of other folks in downtown St. Louis just sounds fun. And while I plan to train hard and hope to set a new PR on the course, realizing that this race will be just for enjoyment really makes me happy.

It is strange not to have the "oh no! what did I just do??" feeling after hitting the "submit" button on registration. Half marathon, you no longer scare me! (someone remind me of that the week before race day!)