One week from tomorrow is THE race. I've checked both weather.com and Accuweather and they are pretty in sync with their forecasts. Looks like we have a chance of rain (40-50%) and roughly 45 degrees as the high. I can live with that, especially because the week looks relatively dry, which will be HUGE for the trail portion of the race. It is also nice that the trail segment is first and won't have all day to get soggy and muddy before we run on it. I will take it!
I guess I'm tapering. After tomorrow's run, weekly mileage will be at 28 miles (two weeks in a row of getting my spot near the top taken on Garmin Connect weekly mileage… UGH!). Next week, I'll do 2 or three very short easy runs to keep the legs loose and just stay generally active without overtiring my legs. There is a fine line between overdoing it and turning into a slug where I've had so much rest, things don't want to get moving on race day. That's not good. So I try to find the happy medium. Meanwhile, Sondra is resting and trying to keep her shin splints (developed late in training) in check. She's been really smart this week and I imagine will be next week too. I do keep telling her that training is done and there is no benefit to be had by pushing on that leg. At this point, all either of us can do is screw it up!
I am expecting a good race. I am not nervous, although usually race expos can change that. I don't think my goal is overly aggressive and think that strategy will have more to do with reaching it than anything else. Fifty miles is a long way to go and to reach the goal that I know I am physically capable of, I need to plan how to execute each portion of the race. Of course I will plan on wiggle room since I don't know at which point in the race I will encounter some rough patches (inevitable in a 50 miler. Not an "if", but a "when"). The last time I ran JFK is was around mile 34. I remember Jack telling me that the 30s are the toughest miles. You aren't quite close to being done, but you're now running much further than any of your training runs. You're body rebels a bit and you just have to plow through it. Having that insider knowledge was huge when I hit that point because the unknown can be scary and make me think I can't. That was when I discovered the beauty of electrolyte tablets in an ultra marathon. I got to the point where food was unappealing, Gatorade tasted bad and it was hard to eat so much. The E-tabs were great to get all I was losing replaced and ease up some of the odd leg cramping I was having.
Maria is my crew. John is staying home since Emma has to take the HSPT for high school. I wanted her to be in her own bed and have a good breakfast before she goes. I love my in-laws and all, but they are indeed, grandparents. If the girl requests straight sugar for breakfast, then straight sugar it is! And my girl would. So I'd like her to have brain food and something conducive to focus and concentration and not give her that inevitable crash midway through. She's top of my prayer list until noon while I run. I think that is when the test ends.
John will get to track the race through the really cool "Live Tracker" capability that Garmin has. I registered him by email and as soon as I start my Garmin when Live Tracker is initiated, he will get an email invitation to "View Kate Rewwer's live activity". I practiced it a couple of times and he was able to track some runs of mine. He said it updates about every minute so he will really get to see exactly how I'm doing and where I am on the course. It'll give him an average pace, which of course will vary dramatically from trail to road. The other nice thing is that he won't drive Maria crazy with texts questioning how it's going. The only issue will be if my battery dies before the race is over. Tracking will stop and he will have to wait it out. The last time I ran JFK, I got to mile 41 and the battery died. I don't know how long my battery life is, but if it is only 8 hours, it will die before I finish. My goal is a sub 10 hour race. Greg and Sarah have also been added and I won't add anyone unless they WANT to track it. I don't want to assume that people want to sit at their computers and watch a slow blue dot crawl all day long. Me? I kind of like that sort of thing. With a 50 miler, you can actually do a lot and then come back and be sure that the blue dot hasn't gotten very far and know you have not missed much :) So mom, let me know if you want to track me! Oh yes, and I won't be adding people I don't know, creepy, weird people, murderers, kidnappers, etc…
I've done the calculating, of course, and my average pace needs to be below 11:57 overall. Now that sounds way doable, right? Well of course you have to add in the trail portion, the aid station stops for fuel and shoe changes, bathroom stops (which are a few during 50 miles where you are eating and drinking a lot) and average all that in. I also have to consider those "rough patches" where I only may be able to walk for a bit until my legs come around. So run pace isn't that generous for the distance with all that factored in. Nevertheless, I'm feeling ready for it.
Finally, if you are the praying type, please offer up a prayer or two for my brother, Joe (the one doing Burning River next summer). He has been incapacitated this week due to a compressed disc. He was found on exam to have an old fracture in his back (WHOA!) and is currently flat on his back on Flexerall and Vicodin. From what I understand, he should really be back to normal soon. I don't know what it will do to his current base building for BR. He's been doing really well and been very consistent with his running and has been keeping me updated. He has some army buddies who have agreed to crew and pace for him, making this very real for him. His plan is to get some longer walks in when he is back on his feet and I know he has PLENTY of time still to be ready, even with this setback. BUT… prayers always make things better. That's a fact.
See you after the race!
Friday, November 14, 2014
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Indianapolis Monumental Marathon
I will not wear a watch in the next marathon I decide to race. I will also likely never run with a pace group.
Yesterday I ran the Monumental marathon as a "training run" (and a hopeful Boston qualifier) for JFK 50. I did not get my BQ time goal, but it was a great run. The weather, minus a few miles of a headwind, was really perfect for marathon running. I like cold weather running the best and this was the coldest it has been so far this fall. Greg also ran the full marathon and Suttan ran the half. It was nice to have company to hang out with prior to the start. The very gracious staff of the Indianapolis Westin hotel allowed runners to take over their lobby and use their bathrooms prior to the start. The starting line was right outside the hotel, so no freezing and shivering for 15-20 minutes in line at the start. It was great!
I decided a while ago not to wear my Garmin, but as I got dressed that morning, I decided I could not forgo the watch. I mean, how would I review my splits afterward? How would I obsess over good miles vs. bad? How would my friends in my GarminConnect group do the same over my run (HAHAHA… you all KNOW it's true!)? So I put it on. Literally 5 minutes before the start I felt the nerves as I powered up my satellite. And then I got this feeling that was overwhelming. I would not wear it. Period. I took it off, powered it off and zipped it into the back pocket of my running tights. Not quite sure where that overwhelming absolute sense of "PUT IT AWAY AND FORGET ABOUT IT" came from, but it was the best decision I have ever made in regard to racing a marathon. I would run this race based on how I was feeling and I would not let my splits begin to freak me out or mess with my head. This, after all, wasn't my race. I actually had to keep saying that out loud to remind myself of it. My plan was to start with the 3:50 pace group since on the website a few mornings earlier, there was no 3:45 pacer. I would start out a few seconds behind pace and then begin to take seconds off after mile 5 or 6. I have never done that before in a race. Usually race nerves and a poor sense of pacing have me starting out a bit faster than one should for a race that long. Greg and I lined up together. I guess tiny Suttan got lost in the crowd of giant people (compared to her :). I then spotted the guy holding the 3:50 sign and right behind him, someone holding 3:45!! Surely that was a sign from God that this would be the day. I was certain he fell from Heaven just a few minutes prior. Well maybe he did and then needed to be quickly reassigned when he was only halfway through the job, because our lovely 3:45 pacer DROPPED from the race just after mile 14!!!
Here is how it went down… I settled into a nice pace after mile 1 as I let the 3:45 pace group catch up. I had crossed the mat maybe 30 seconds before they did and figured I could pull ahead at mile 24 or so (HAAA!). As always, it was taking my body some time to warm up. In other words, I didn't feel my best, but I refused to let it rattle me. For every complaint that popped up, I pushed it away, knowing I would feel better once a few miles were behind me. I do the same thing on my Wednesday speed runs… start out thinking there is no way I will be able to hang at pace that day, but always do just fine. So all those reminders were really helping keep my head in check. Sure enough at around the 10k mark or even mile 7, I was feeling quite comfortable and at ease. The wind was at our backs at that point. I knew all the prayers that I had said and that my friends had and were saying (thank you, Sarah!) were absolutely making a difference. I was running along with the pace team, really feeling good and confident. This was the such a new and delightful marathon "racing" experience for me. The knowledge that it was a training run was huge. It kept me super relaxed. I had no fear or worry of disappointing anyone and really felt this run belonged just to me. I had no watch to look at a million times that would trip me up if I saw a number too fast or too slow. I just figured I'd let this guy do the work and I would tag along.
After we crossed the halfway mat, the pacer said he was going to take off his sweatshirt. Another girl running with the group and I continued on. I figured she was also pacing the group since she seemed to converse with the pacer for much of the first half and also stayed right beside him. I told her I'd stick to her like glue and she replied, "Well I'm relying on him!", and pointed behind us to the pacer. She then told me she was trying to qualify for Boston with a 3:45 and had really trained hard and had missed it by 5 minutes in her last marathon. I'm told her that I knew a thing or two about that and we began to talk about racing and all that fun stuff. The other factor not mentioned is that she also did not have on a Garmin… just a watch with time. We kept running, but she soon began to worry we were running too fast since the pacer seemed so far back. She did NOT want to get too far ahead at this point and wanted to pace very carefully. Smart girl. We even commented that we both felt awesome at the pace we were running… it seemed almost slow! But we knew we had to let the pacer catch up so we walked, yes, WALKED up a small incline. We soon discovered when we looked back that he was GONE. We knew he did not pass us and we knew he was not behind us. We also did not realize how far behind we were at that point. This was a very good thing for me. I had no clue I was nearly 10 seconds off overall pace at that point. I wasn't paying attention to the time clocks at all since that would require some mental math and figuring out stuff. Well no wonder I felt pretty good! I had slowed just enough to fool me into thinking I was more than ready to nail my time and that it might actually be easy.
I crossed the 30k mat pretty sure I was still on pace. It was not until after the race that John told me my split at the 30k was an 8:46. For me, however, it wouldn't have mattered if it were an 8:36 or an 8:46 at that point. At mile 21, the infamous wall jumped in front of me. It was the dramatic and immediate feeling that I was out of gas and out of fuel… glycogen depleted. This didn't rattle me either, though. Running this race at the pace I did was a bargain without the traditional 3 day carb load. I discovered that it matters a lot for me. Since running a mid 8 pace for that long truly is a race for me, I was using up my stores faster than I could replace them. I did one 26.2 mile training run at a slower pace several weeks ago and I never got depleted. Sore and achy, of course! But not glycogen depleted, therefore despite the annoying discomfort of running that far, I could hang on to my pace. This time, I couldn't. I definitely tried to run hard through the crash, but I couldn't run hard. I probably dropped a minute off my pace per mile from that point on. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't as horrible as it normally is for me because I was still very happy. I know this is part of marathoning. I know it isn't recommended to run back to back 20 milers two weeks out or do a 10 mile tempo run 1 week out. I also know a 3 day carb load is recommended and although I did rest a lot this past week, sleep was not a luxury. So I was so ok with it all and still gave it my physical all to the very end. Even without our fearless pacer dropping out, I would not have hit a 3:45.
I am not so sure about my friend though. When she discovered we were way off pace and when the 3:50 pacer passed us, she absolutely crumbled. Her mental state crashed and her body followed. I never saw her again after mile 21. I felt horrible for her. I knew exactly how she felt but I also knew nothing I said to her would matter at that moment. So I just shut up and ran on. But not before I told her marathons are a dime a dozen and she would get her time. Although she was angry at the pacer, I felt it best not to mention that the pacer is not responsible for a runner's racing success. You are bargaining that the pacer, who is human, WILL have a good day. Well the marathon is a fickle bitch, as my husband likes to say. No one is immune from a bad race day. Not even a pacer. So every racer has to have a back up plan to run his own race when a pacer has a bad day.
I crossed the mat in 3:54:45… 10 minutes off my goal time. Suttan was waiting at the finish for me after running an awesome half. Greg was on target to cross soon and came in at 4:04:04… an incredible PR for him. The cool thing is that he didn't train specifically for a marathon. He ran one 20 miler with me 2 weeks ago and much of his racing success yesterday has to do with his half ironman training, which he built an awesome aerobic engine by cycling mixed with running. He also expected nothing from himself, which helped tremendously.
Yesterday's race was a huge victory for me. I have never raced a marathon feeling that strong mentally, especially when I've fallen off pace. I did keep it a race and did plow hard through the final miles, though it wasn't enough. I think that is why I cannot fathom running my second back to back today. I am so sore and my right knee is bothering me. With my real race only 3 weeks away, I can only screw things up by too much at this point. It is a shame to miss the Mason half on such a gorgeous morning, but I know it is for the best. When my alarm went off and I tried to go down my steps and needed the banister this morning, I knew it wouldn't be wise to even attempt it. It has been a long time since that has happened after a long "training run". I need to recover a bit.
I'd like to thank all those who sent up prayers for a good race for me. On all saints day, there was certainly a whole host of heavenly saints keeping me mentally on target, no doubt in preparation for the next time I train for that goal. You know, the one I have said many times over I am not doing anymore? Yeah, that one. I ran the best I was able yesterday, no doubt about that. For that, I am really, REALLY grateful and happy for that awesome training run.
Yesterday I ran the Monumental marathon as a "training run" (and a hopeful Boston qualifier) for JFK 50. I did not get my BQ time goal, but it was a great run. The weather, minus a few miles of a headwind, was really perfect for marathon running. I like cold weather running the best and this was the coldest it has been so far this fall. Greg also ran the full marathon and Suttan ran the half. It was nice to have company to hang out with prior to the start. The very gracious staff of the Indianapolis Westin hotel allowed runners to take over their lobby and use their bathrooms prior to the start. The starting line was right outside the hotel, so no freezing and shivering for 15-20 minutes in line at the start. It was great!
I decided a while ago not to wear my Garmin, but as I got dressed that morning, I decided I could not forgo the watch. I mean, how would I review my splits afterward? How would I obsess over good miles vs. bad? How would my friends in my GarminConnect group do the same over my run (HAHAHA… you all KNOW it's true!)? So I put it on. Literally 5 minutes before the start I felt the nerves as I powered up my satellite. And then I got this feeling that was overwhelming. I would not wear it. Period. I took it off, powered it off and zipped it into the back pocket of my running tights. Not quite sure where that overwhelming absolute sense of "PUT IT AWAY AND FORGET ABOUT IT" came from, but it was the best decision I have ever made in regard to racing a marathon. I would run this race based on how I was feeling and I would not let my splits begin to freak me out or mess with my head. This, after all, wasn't my race. I actually had to keep saying that out loud to remind myself of it. My plan was to start with the 3:50 pace group since on the website a few mornings earlier, there was no 3:45 pacer. I would start out a few seconds behind pace and then begin to take seconds off after mile 5 or 6. I have never done that before in a race. Usually race nerves and a poor sense of pacing have me starting out a bit faster than one should for a race that long. Greg and I lined up together. I guess tiny Suttan got lost in the crowd of giant people (compared to her :). I then spotted the guy holding the 3:50 sign and right behind him, someone holding 3:45!! Surely that was a sign from God that this would be the day. I was certain he fell from Heaven just a few minutes prior. Well maybe he did and then needed to be quickly reassigned when he was only halfway through the job, because our lovely 3:45 pacer DROPPED from the race just after mile 14!!!
Here is how it went down… I settled into a nice pace after mile 1 as I let the 3:45 pace group catch up. I had crossed the mat maybe 30 seconds before they did and figured I could pull ahead at mile 24 or so (HAAA!). As always, it was taking my body some time to warm up. In other words, I didn't feel my best, but I refused to let it rattle me. For every complaint that popped up, I pushed it away, knowing I would feel better once a few miles were behind me. I do the same thing on my Wednesday speed runs… start out thinking there is no way I will be able to hang at pace that day, but always do just fine. So all those reminders were really helping keep my head in check. Sure enough at around the 10k mark or even mile 7, I was feeling quite comfortable and at ease. The wind was at our backs at that point. I knew all the prayers that I had said and that my friends had and were saying (thank you, Sarah!) were absolutely making a difference. I was running along with the pace team, really feeling good and confident. This was the such a new and delightful marathon "racing" experience for me. The knowledge that it was a training run was huge. It kept me super relaxed. I had no fear or worry of disappointing anyone and really felt this run belonged just to me. I had no watch to look at a million times that would trip me up if I saw a number too fast or too slow. I just figured I'd let this guy do the work and I would tag along.
After we crossed the halfway mat, the pacer said he was going to take off his sweatshirt. Another girl running with the group and I continued on. I figured she was also pacing the group since she seemed to converse with the pacer for much of the first half and also stayed right beside him. I told her I'd stick to her like glue and she replied, "Well I'm relying on him!", and pointed behind us to the pacer. She then told me she was trying to qualify for Boston with a 3:45 and had really trained hard and had missed it by 5 minutes in her last marathon. I'm told her that I knew a thing or two about that and we began to talk about racing and all that fun stuff. The other factor not mentioned is that she also did not have on a Garmin… just a watch with time. We kept running, but she soon began to worry we were running too fast since the pacer seemed so far back. She did NOT want to get too far ahead at this point and wanted to pace very carefully. Smart girl. We even commented that we both felt awesome at the pace we were running… it seemed almost slow! But we knew we had to let the pacer catch up so we walked, yes, WALKED up a small incline. We soon discovered when we looked back that he was GONE. We knew he did not pass us and we knew he was not behind us. We also did not realize how far behind we were at that point. This was a very good thing for me. I had no clue I was nearly 10 seconds off overall pace at that point. I wasn't paying attention to the time clocks at all since that would require some mental math and figuring out stuff. Well no wonder I felt pretty good! I had slowed just enough to fool me into thinking I was more than ready to nail my time and that it might actually be easy.
I crossed the 30k mat pretty sure I was still on pace. It was not until after the race that John told me my split at the 30k was an 8:46. For me, however, it wouldn't have mattered if it were an 8:36 or an 8:46 at that point. At mile 21, the infamous wall jumped in front of me. It was the dramatic and immediate feeling that I was out of gas and out of fuel… glycogen depleted. This didn't rattle me either, though. Running this race at the pace I did was a bargain without the traditional 3 day carb load. I discovered that it matters a lot for me. Since running a mid 8 pace for that long truly is a race for me, I was using up my stores faster than I could replace them. I did one 26.2 mile training run at a slower pace several weeks ago and I never got depleted. Sore and achy, of course! But not glycogen depleted, therefore despite the annoying discomfort of running that far, I could hang on to my pace. This time, I couldn't. I definitely tried to run hard through the crash, but I couldn't run hard. I probably dropped a minute off my pace per mile from that point on. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't as horrible as it normally is for me because I was still very happy. I know this is part of marathoning. I know it isn't recommended to run back to back 20 milers two weeks out or do a 10 mile tempo run 1 week out. I also know a 3 day carb load is recommended and although I did rest a lot this past week, sleep was not a luxury. So I was so ok with it all and still gave it my physical all to the very end. Even without our fearless pacer dropping out, I would not have hit a 3:45.
I am not so sure about my friend though. When she discovered we were way off pace and when the 3:50 pacer passed us, she absolutely crumbled. Her mental state crashed and her body followed. I never saw her again after mile 21. I felt horrible for her. I knew exactly how she felt but I also knew nothing I said to her would matter at that moment. So I just shut up and ran on. But not before I told her marathons are a dime a dozen and she would get her time. Although she was angry at the pacer, I felt it best not to mention that the pacer is not responsible for a runner's racing success. You are bargaining that the pacer, who is human, WILL have a good day. Well the marathon is a fickle bitch, as my husband likes to say. No one is immune from a bad race day. Not even a pacer. So every racer has to have a back up plan to run his own race when a pacer has a bad day.
I crossed the mat in 3:54:45… 10 minutes off my goal time. Suttan was waiting at the finish for me after running an awesome half. Greg was on target to cross soon and came in at 4:04:04… an incredible PR for him. The cool thing is that he didn't train specifically for a marathon. He ran one 20 miler with me 2 weeks ago and much of his racing success yesterday has to do with his half ironman training, which he built an awesome aerobic engine by cycling mixed with running. He also expected nothing from himself, which helped tremendously.
Yesterday's race was a huge victory for me. I have never raced a marathon feeling that strong mentally, especially when I've fallen off pace. I did keep it a race and did plow hard through the final miles, though it wasn't enough. I think that is why I cannot fathom running my second back to back today. I am so sore and my right knee is bothering me. With my real race only 3 weeks away, I can only screw things up by too much at this point. It is a shame to miss the Mason half on such a gorgeous morning, but I know it is for the best. When my alarm went off and I tried to go down my steps and needed the banister this morning, I knew it wouldn't be wise to even attempt it. It has been a long time since that has happened after a long "training run". I need to recover a bit.
I'd like to thank all those who sent up prayers for a good race for me. On all saints day, there was certainly a whole host of heavenly saints keeping me mentally on target, no doubt in preparation for the next time I train for that goal. You know, the one I have said many times over I am not doing anymore? Yeah, that one. I ran the best I was able yesterday, no doubt about that. For that, I am really, REALLY grateful and happy for that awesome training run.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
The double life of a runner and mom
Happy almost Halloween to everyone! I both dread and look forward to the mounds of candy my kids will be collecting and trying to hide from me. I am counting on an abundance of Twix, 100 grands, Almond Joys and Snickers to keep me fueled until the big race on November 22nd. I am referring, of course, to the JFK 50 mile race in Maryland that I will be running with Sondra.
Training has been really, really good. I can hardly believe the race is just about three weeks away. As part of my training, I am running the Indianapolis Marathon on Saturday and running the Mason half marathon on Sunday. These back to back long runs are supposed to be nice and slow and easy. But I plan to make Monumental a hard training run. I think my body can take the pace and much as I told myself I would not really taper, I really have this week. By hard training run pace, I mean around an 8:35 avg. Or more like an 8:25 since everyone knows marathons are never really 26.2, but much, MUCH farther (at least after running that long it seems like one step past the 26.2 is running forever!). The one thing I haven't really done this week is carb load as recommended. I have my reasons. Once I carb load, it mentally becomes a RACE. It is now an attempt at a BQ and not just a hard training run. If you've followed this blog, you really know that doesn't work for me. I know it doesn't make sense. I know it isn't logical. But again, I can't change that part of my mind anymore than I can change my eye color. If it is a workout…and a hard one at that… I may be able to pull off that pace for that distance. I also have to understand not carb loading could ultimately be my downfall. It is a risk I'm willing to take given the number of times I've carb loaded and fallen short. Don't get me wrong… I don't think I can run on empty. I'm eating carbs and will absolutely have a hearty, carbohydrate laden breakfast on Saturday, I'm just not doing the traditional make yourself sick type of carb loading. This is going to drive my running friends nuts since Suttan told me, she'd really like this off her back…or in other words, "Get you damn BQ already so we can stop hearing about it!!!" Ok, no she didn't say that. But it was funny how she worded it in regard to this particular marathon. I know that they would all like to see me achieve this long time goal. They are super sweet like that. I do, however, have to remind them (and myself) that this race is not my goal. My goal was, and still is, a PR in the 50 mile distance. Some years magical things happen and everything clicks and every race is wonderful. Some years everything is bad, injury happens and/or all races are bad ones. I have had an injury free and pretty strong training cycle. I feel good and am hopeful Saturday will be a good day. But if it isn't, that is very ok and there will be no upset or tears (maybe from Suttan, but not from me :). I still get a medal and I still get one heck of a nice long training run in. My race has still yet to come and that is where I am determined to stay focused (as I sit here antsy and semi-tapered from lack of running this week…).
My non-running life has been quite a ride. If it were not for the loving arms of God, I'm telling you, I'd be in a corner sucking my thumb and rocking. We moved at the beginning of October and our other house is on the market. This alone makes for some busy days of trying to settle in our new house and trying to maintain the other one to sell. My mind is so cluttered with tasks that, well, I forgot to pay the water bill at our "old" house and when I went over there to spruce up the other day, I discovered the water had actually been shut off. Oh shit! So down I go to pay the utility bill and request my water be turned back on. Of course, there is a line behind me and I get those sympathetic looks of "Sure, lady… whatever…" as I explain that I really just did forget. Always a fun and embarrassing way to start the day.
What has really occupied head space over the last couple of weeks, is my sweet 11 year old, Jack. Well over a year ago, I wrote about Jack, who has ADHD. I think I discussed how we were trying to go the wall keeping him unmedicated and making changes in his diet as well as putting him through an intense program geared to help him (and us) be successful with attention and focus. Let me tell you… we have hit the wall, plowed through it, climbed over it and have discovered that Jack's attention deficit is not only severe, but he also has a significant learning disability.
Before I go on, I realize that to some, I may be violating Jack's privacy. First of all, if you know Jack, he is so good with it, very honest and frank about his struggles and very ok with who he is. Secondly, to me, this is no different than revealing Jack had a physical disease like cancer (thank God he is very healthy). A learning disability is a biological disorder, not a character weakness and there is nothing to be embarrassed about when your child is struggling. I say make some noise and enlist as much help as you can. This is how God created Jack's brain. God doesn't make mistakes… never, ever. This is a lesson I am learning and has put me on my knees more in past two weeks than I can ever remember.
In the past two years, I have prayed often for school to become "easy" for him. It has not. Instead, it has become more challenging every year. When Jack would have a test, I'd go to the adoration chapel, kneel before the Blessed Sacrament and pray for a good grade, or at the very least, his BEST. Often times his best that day was a D… minus. So I'd say, "Maybe you misunderstood my request this morning, Lord. But he is much smarter than a D-." And so it went, over and over and over. I knew that although I did not quite understand what God's purpose in all this was, I held on to the knowledge that there is purpose in every struggle we have. What I did neglect is what has become so evident, so overwhelmingly glorious this past week.
God heard every prayer and saw every tear I quietly and not so quietly shed for my boy. In his infinite mercy, he has protected Jack's emotional and psychological being. Jack had a psychological evaluation with all of his testing. It was concluded that Jack is a happy child with an average self esteem. Jack gets along with everyone. He is loving and playful. He loves the bullied and the bullies alike (in fact, he is oblivious to any kind of friction amongst the kids in his class). He never complains about his teachers, though I have… very often and sometimes not so fairly. He rolls with the changes, despite the day to day challenge of sitting for 6-7 hours in a traditional classroom and struggling to understand for YEARS and despite being in a classroom full of pretty smart kids who like to compare grades. In the critical years of adolescence, the ones where fitting in and not being different are so very, very important to kids, the ones that drained and are draining my two older kids and their mom, Jack is HAPPY! This is the work of a loving God answering the prayers of a mother. As I sat in quiet prayer this morning, I felt this is what God was saying to me. He let me know he heard me and he did answer. Perhaps not in the way I had asked, but maybe even better. God has most certainly given Jack challenges. But I am certain God knows these things will strengthen him and make him a better person. It is John and my responsibly to find the right help and guide him so that he can succeed at this. But God has also protected this child's self confidence and emotional well being as evidenced by what a happy and easy going kid he is.
We continue to walk an unknown road in our quest to help him succeed academically (isn't all of life an unknown road?). There are some pretty intimidating decisions to be made and I would be lying if I didn't say I wasn't extremely anxious over all of it. I equate this feeling to spinning headfirst, eyes closed into the unknown. It is very unsettling… UNTIL I remember WHO will catch me, who will protect me and who will guide me (and John, though he seems to have an innate sense that things will be good. God perhaps?).
And then I am certain that Jack will be just fine.
Training has been really, really good. I can hardly believe the race is just about three weeks away. As part of my training, I am running the Indianapolis Marathon on Saturday and running the Mason half marathon on Sunday. These back to back long runs are supposed to be nice and slow and easy. But I plan to make Monumental a hard training run. I think my body can take the pace and much as I told myself I would not really taper, I really have this week. By hard training run pace, I mean around an 8:35 avg. Or more like an 8:25 since everyone knows marathons are never really 26.2, but much, MUCH farther (at least after running that long it seems like one step past the 26.2 is running forever!). The one thing I haven't really done this week is carb load as recommended. I have my reasons. Once I carb load, it mentally becomes a RACE. It is now an attempt at a BQ and not just a hard training run. If you've followed this blog, you really know that doesn't work for me. I know it doesn't make sense. I know it isn't logical. But again, I can't change that part of my mind anymore than I can change my eye color. If it is a workout…and a hard one at that… I may be able to pull off that pace for that distance. I also have to understand not carb loading could ultimately be my downfall. It is a risk I'm willing to take given the number of times I've carb loaded and fallen short. Don't get me wrong… I don't think I can run on empty. I'm eating carbs and will absolutely have a hearty, carbohydrate laden breakfast on Saturday, I'm just not doing the traditional make yourself sick type of carb loading. This is going to drive my running friends nuts since Suttan told me, she'd really like this off her back…or in other words, "Get you damn BQ already so we can stop hearing about it!!!" Ok, no she didn't say that. But it was funny how she worded it in regard to this particular marathon. I know that they would all like to see me achieve this long time goal. They are super sweet like that. I do, however, have to remind them (and myself) that this race is not my goal. My goal was, and still is, a PR in the 50 mile distance. Some years magical things happen and everything clicks and every race is wonderful. Some years everything is bad, injury happens and/or all races are bad ones. I have had an injury free and pretty strong training cycle. I feel good and am hopeful Saturday will be a good day. But if it isn't, that is very ok and there will be no upset or tears (maybe from Suttan, but not from me :). I still get a medal and I still get one heck of a nice long training run in. My race has still yet to come and that is where I am determined to stay focused (as I sit here antsy and semi-tapered from lack of running this week…).
My non-running life has been quite a ride. If it were not for the loving arms of God, I'm telling you, I'd be in a corner sucking my thumb and rocking. We moved at the beginning of October and our other house is on the market. This alone makes for some busy days of trying to settle in our new house and trying to maintain the other one to sell. My mind is so cluttered with tasks that, well, I forgot to pay the water bill at our "old" house and when I went over there to spruce up the other day, I discovered the water had actually been shut off. Oh shit! So down I go to pay the utility bill and request my water be turned back on. Of course, there is a line behind me and I get those sympathetic looks of "Sure, lady… whatever…" as I explain that I really just did forget. Always a fun and embarrassing way to start the day.
What has really occupied head space over the last couple of weeks, is my sweet 11 year old, Jack. Well over a year ago, I wrote about Jack, who has ADHD. I think I discussed how we were trying to go the wall keeping him unmedicated and making changes in his diet as well as putting him through an intense program geared to help him (and us) be successful with attention and focus. Let me tell you… we have hit the wall, plowed through it, climbed over it and have discovered that Jack's attention deficit is not only severe, but he also has a significant learning disability.
Before I go on, I realize that to some, I may be violating Jack's privacy. First of all, if you know Jack, he is so good with it, very honest and frank about his struggles and very ok with who he is. Secondly, to me, this is no different than revealing Jack had a physical disease like cancer (thank God he is very healthy). A learning disability is a biological disorder, not a character weakness and there is nothing to be embarrassed about when your child is struggling. I say make some noise and enlist as much help as you can. This is how God created Jack's brain. God doesn't make mistakes… never, ever. This is a lesson I am learning and has put me on my knees more in past two weeks than I can ever remember.
In the past two years, I have prayed often for school to become "easy" for him. It has not. Instead, it has become more challenging every year. When Jack would have a test, I'd go to the adoration chapel, kneel before the Blessed Sacrament and pray for a good grade, or at the very least, his BEST. Often times his best that day was a D… minus. So I'd say, "Maybe you misunderstood my request this morning, Lord. But he is much smarter than a D-." And so it went, over and over and over. I knew that although I did not quite understand what God's purpose in all this was, I held on to the knowledge that there is purpose in every struggle we have. What I did neglect is what has become so evident, so overwhelmingly glorious this past week.
God heard every prayer and saw every tear I quietly and not so quietly shed for my boy. In his infinite mercy, he has protected Jack's emotional and psychological being. Jack had a psychological evaluation with all of his testing. It was concluded that Jack is a happy child with an average self esteem. Jack gets along with everyone. He is loving and playful. He loves the bullied and the bullies alike (in fact, he is oblivious to any kind of friction amongst the kids in his class). He never complains about his teachers, though I have… very often and sometimes not so fairly. He rolls with the changes, despite the day to day challenge of sitting for 6-7 hours in a traditional classroom and struggling to understand for YEARS and despite being in a classroom full of pretty smart kids who like to compare grades. In the critical years of adolescence, the ones where fitting in and not being different are so very, very important to kids, the ones that drained and are draining my two older kids and their mom, Jack is HAPPY! This is the work of a loving God answering the prayers of a mother. As I sat in quiet prayer this morning, I felt this is what God was saying to me. He let me know he heard me and he did answer. Perhaps not in the way I had asked, but maybe even better. God has most certainly given Jack challenges. But I am certain God knows these things will strengthen him and make him a better person. It is John and my responsibly to find the right help and guide him so that he can succeed at this. But God has also protected this child's self confidence and emotional well being as evidenced by what a happy and easy going kid he is.
We continue to walk an unknown road in our quest to help him succeed academically (isn't all of life an unknown road?). There are some pretty intimidating decisions to be made and I would be lying if I didn't say I wasn't extremely anxious over all of it. I equate this feeling to spinning headfirst, eyes closed into the unknown. It is very unsettling… UNTIL I remember WHO will catch me, who will protect me and who will guide me (and John, though he seems to have an innate sense that things will be good. God perhaps?).
And then I am certain that Jack will be just fine.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Dig
This post is for my brother, Joe, who needs something to read. Or some "inspiration", as he puts it. He is beginning the wild journey of ultra marathon training and is going for the big one out of the gate. He has set his sights on running the Burning River 100 in 2015. He's kind of starting at ground zero. In fact, I think he's starting underground. Yikes! Actually, to his credit, he isn't starting, he did that over a month ago. He's continuing and I believe he is absolutely going to pull it off.
First, however, he has to stop smoking. Seriously, Joe. Exactly how much do you think your poor lungs can take when you are asking so much of them and then pouring poison into them simultaneously? If you want your body to perform, you have to take care of it. It can only do so much. And it can do A-MAZING things, but only with consistent and constant care. You are a smart man. You know that. So quit it already. If you already quit, that's awesome and sorry for the public thrashing. Also, no more McDonald's, Wendy's, Taco Bell, Skyline, etc… Well, occasionally is fine, but not all the time. And Mt. Dew, if you are still drinking that nastiness… yuck. You can have it during the race, but knock it off from now until then. Instead, eat well, brother. LOTS of omega 3s because they help a lot with inflammation of all those soft tissues that take a beating during training, which will be an absolute with all those impending back to back long runs. If you don't know what foods have them, here are a few… eggs, flax seeds, walnuts, pasteur raised meats (grass fed stuff), beans (especially kidney!), salmon. And the list goes on. You can now even buy omega 3 enriched organic milk. And don't say it's too expensive if you are still smoking. Don't even do that with me. So there is a crash course in running nutrition. A basic stripped down version, as there is an overwhelming amount of information out there. This WILL be a big factor in your success or failure at attempting this. Make no mistake, what you eat matters!
Now, back to this post. The title is actually the title of a song that Joe sent me a couple of weeks ago. It's on his running playlist and it is normally not my style of music, but it's really a good song with a catchy tune. But it's the message that Pete Townshend, the singer, is trying to get across that has been unbelievably inspirational to me these past few weeks. So thank you, Joe, for sending it.
Anyone who has ever trained hard to run a race knows the term "dig deep". It means to search within for a source of strength that can carry us to the finish. It is especially important to do this toward the end of a race or work out when physical energy seems all but gone. For some it is the memory of a loved one that provides strength. There are thousands of reasons people find that mysterious, untapped source at the end of a race or hard training session. It is very personal and different for each of us. A very powerful image for me is that of Christ carrying his cross up Calvary Mountain. If you have seen The Passion, you remember him falling and using every last bit of strength to get up. His inspiration for continuing on to his death, was us. His inspiration to get to the top for the finish, was our salvation. Although no shiny medal or race t-shirt awaited him. He knew the ultimate prize, which far surpassed any post race chocolate milk and massage. I have revisited that image countless times in my head during different training cycles and even races (especially Burning River last year) and what a difference it makes! It slaps me back to the reality of how whatever it is I am doing at the moment pales in comparison. It gives me strength and cause to continue.
But one doesn't have to be training or racing to have the need to dig deep. Life in general requires that quite often. I am training to run the JFK 50 with one of my running group friends. This will be her first ultra distance event and she is going to be awesome. I'm not just saying that either. Seriously, I am beginning to think of all my excuses of why she beat me come race day in November. Sondra is an incredible runner. The annoying kind who seems to require no effort when doing 12 mile pace runs. She has brought me to a new and different level of running fitness… even after all these years of training for marathons and ultras. This is different. This has been an awesome combination of a new kind of strength training (tabata… look it up. Holy cow!), nutrition and running workouts that I both dread and love. I am probably close to my peak running fitness. It is wonderful.
It is also absolutely exhausting. Yes, I choose to do this. No one is making me. But DAMN, it's hard. Maybe that is the appeal. I am also moving and trying to raise kids, two of which are teenagers. Digging deep has taken on a whole new meaning for me. I have my two "littles", 8 and 11 year olds, who also need mom in a different way (funny how my "little" kids are not really so little anymore. I used to think 8 and 11 year olds were big kids… WAHHHH!). Then there are my 15 and 13 year olds, who are awesome. They are truly wonderful people who will one day make incredible adults. At least I keep telling myself that :) But I'm finding they are stupid. Teenagers are just stupid and you cannot tell them anything. They make stupid choices, do stupid things (like make their mom cry and keep her up at night worrying about stuff and forget that she is tired and training a lot and trying to friggin move!). They are also self centered and darn me for forgetting the world revolves around their schedules. And before I continue on, I have to stop and say, MOM… I am SOOOO sorry for my once stupid teenage self!
Yes, these days, digging deep has many meanings. In training, I dig deep to hang for a hard workout or finish up a very long run. In mothering, I dig deep to find God's voice guiding my words and my actions as they relate to my children. My own words are not good words. They are actually cuss words. So I need God in a way I never have to help me mother these very stupid children and turn them into smart adults. I need Him to also give me the words to soothe a wounded 13 year old girl, who's confidence and self esteem are shaken from careless and mean words of her peers, also stupid teenagers. I also need to dig deep to get myself out of my own self-centeredness when it comes to complaining about day to day life. Complaining about how stressful moving is (how blest we are!), complaining about my kids (how healthy are beautiful they are!), complaining about training exhaustion (how uninjured and running strong I am!).
Yes, God has given me a beautiful, full life. It's a shame that some days I have to dig deep to thank Him.
Here is the song I am referring to. I hope you can access it here. It's never easy to copy and paste from youtube on here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=As-SmW0E0cc
First, however, he has to stop smoking. Seriously, Joe. Exactly how much do you think your poor lungs can take when you are asking so much of them and then pouring poison into them simultaneously? If you want your body to perform, you have to take care of it. It can only do so much. And it can do A-MAZING things, but only with consistent and constant care. You are a smart man. You know that. So quit it already. If you already quit, that's awesome and sorry for the public thrashing. Also, no more McDonald's, Wendy's, Taco Bell, Skyline, etc… Well, occasionally is fine, but not all the time. And Mt. Dew, if you are still drinking that nastiness… yuck. You can have it during the race, but knock it off from now until then. Instead, eat well, brother. LOTS of omega 3s because they help a lot with inflammation of all those soft tissues that take a beating during training, which will be an absolute with all those impending back to back long runs. If you don't know what foods have them, here are a few… eggs, flax seeds, walnuts, pasteur raised meats (grass fed stuff), beans (especially kidney!), salmon. And the list goes on. You can now even buy omega 3 enriched organic milk. And don't say it's too expensive if you are still smoking. Don't even do that with me. So there is a crash course in running nutrition. A basic stripped down version, as there is an overwhelming amount of information out there. This WILL be a big factor in your success or failure at attempting this. Make no mistake, what you eat matters!
Now, back to this post. The title is actually the title of a song that Joe sent me a couple of weeks ago. It's on his running playlist and it is normally not my style of music, but it's really a good song with a catchy tune. But it's the message that Pete Townshend, the singer, is trying to get across that has been unbelievably inspirational to me these past few weeks. So thank you, Joe, for sending it.
Anyone who has ever trained hard to run a race knows the term "dig deep". It means to search within for a source of strength that can carry us to the finish. It is especially important to do this toward the end of a race or work out when physical energy seems all but gone. For some it is the memory of a loved one that provides strength. There are thousands of reasons people find that mysterious, untapped source at the end of a race or hard training session. It is very personal and different for each of us. A very powerful image for me is that of Christ carrying his cross up Calvary Mountain. If you have seen The Passion, you remember him falling and using every last bit of strength to get up. His inspiration for continuing on to his death, was us. His inspiration to get to the top for the finish, was our salvation. Although no shiny medal or race t-shirt awaited him. He knew the ultimate prize, which far surpassed any post race chocolate milk and massage. I have revisited that image countless times in my head during different training cycles and even races (especially Burning River last year) and what a difference it makes! It slaps me back to the reality of how whatever it is I am doing at the moment pales in comparison. It gives me strength and cause to continue.
But one doesn't have to be training or racing to have the need to dig deep. Life in general requires that quite often. I am training to run the JFK 50 with one of my running group friends. This will be her first ultra distance event and she is going to be awesome. I'm not just saying that either. Seriously, I am beginning to think of all my excuses of why she beat me come race day in November. Sondra is an incredible runner. The annoying kind who seems to require no effort when doing 12 mile pace runs. She has brought me to a new and different level of running fitness… even after all these years of training for marathons and ultras. This is different. This has been an awesome combination of a new kind of strength training (tabata… look it up. Holy cow!), nutrition and running workouts that I both dread and love. I am probably close to my peak running fitness. It is wonderful.
It is also absolutely exhausting. Yes, I choose to do this. No one is making me. But DAMN, it's hard. Maybe that is the appeal. I am also moving and trying to raise kids, two of which are teenagers. Digging deep has taken on a whole new meaning for me. I have my two "littles", 8 and 11 year olds, who also need mom in a different way (funny how my "little" kids are not really so little anymore. I used to think 8 and 11 year olds were big kids… WAHHHH!). Then there are my 15 and 13 year olds, who are awesome. They are truly wonderful people who will one day make incredible adults. At least I keep telling myself that :) But I'm finding they are stupid. Teenagers are just stupid and you cannot tell them anything. They make stupid choices, do stupid things (like make their mom cry and keep her up at night worrying about stuff and forget that she is tired and training a lot and trying to friggin move!). They are also self centered and darn me for forgetting the world revolves around their schedules. And before I continue on, I have to stop and say, MOM… I am SOOOO sorry for my once stupid teenage self!
Yes, these days, digging deep has many meanings. In training, I dig deep to hang for a hard workout or finish up a very long run. In mothering, I dig deep to find God's voice guiding my words and my actions as they relate to my children. My own words are not good words. They are actually cuss words. So I need God in a way I never have to help me mother these very stupid children and turn them into smart adults. I need Him to also give me the words to soothe a wounded 13 year old girl, who's confidence and self esteem are shaken from careless and mean words of her peers, also stupid teenagers. I also need to dig deep to get myself out of my own self-centeredness when it comes to complaining about day to day life. Complaining about how stressful moving is (how blest we are!), complaining about my kids (how healthy are beautiful they are!), complaining about training exhaustion (how uninjured and running strong I am!).
Yes, God has given me a beautiful, full life. It's a shame that some days I have to dig deep to thank Him.
Here is the song I am referring to. I hope you can access it here. It's never easy to copy and paste from youtube on here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=As-SmW0E0cc
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
The time has come!
It's been awhile since I've sat down to do this. I've thought about sitting down to write so often, but one of two things always happens… first, I get interrupted or second, distracted. It is the second reason that I sit down to write (type) this post. Here is the nutshell version:
I am so damn tired of living in a distracted and moody state that I have decided to rid myself of any type of social media for good. Not just temporarily. Not just for now. For good.
Now the typical, drawn out, genetically predisposed "Corey" version:
For starters, this is not a "lesson". I am not writing to voice my arrogance or for neediness for others to agree with me. I am not writing so people fluff me with complements or learn any sort of life lesson from me. I am overloaded with articles and blogs like that daily and I've resorted to rolling my eyes. See what I mean by my nutshell version? I am writing because it brings me joy. A joy I have for so long gone without because I'm too busy with things that fill my head with garbage and bust my good moods (BTW, B… your post yesterday was awesome and brought me extreme joy and as always, Aleisa's do too :).
I have been toying with leaving social media (Facebook) for a long time. I know that it is a big time waster and can be overly addicting for me. I will acknowledge what my sister pointed out yesterday…it keeps my very large extended family connected in a way we never were before. I'm closer to my cousins now more than I ever was and I get to see pictures of my growing nieces and nephews often. There are posts and pictures that make me laugh daily. I can wish someone a happy birthday and when Nora was alive, I knew when something went wrong by her mother's prayer requests. I don't watch the news or read the paper so it was through FB that I learned of Pope Francis's family tragedy yesterday and added him, and them, to my prayers today. These are all wonderful ways to use Facebook and social media in general and why I struggle to come to the decision to exit this virtual world. Also, I think my kids are damn cute and I think all 400 plus of my "friends" need to see them!
But then there is the dark side of Facebook for ME.
When I look at my attitude about others and life in general, there has been a definite shift over the last 6 years. Oh it has been subtle, but it is large scale. I was born an optimistic and happy person. Ask my parents… I was a delightful and happy child (miserably bad teen) and grew into a generally happy adult. But when I step back and evaluate a day in my life now, I see a cynical and negative outlook that I can only attribute to adopting from how I see others lives displayed through social media. It isn't THEIR fault. It's mine. Let's face it, people put their best selves forward in public. And when I KNOW it's fake, it enrages me. But WHY? Why the heck should I care what hat someone else decides to wear for the whole world to see? I don't know. I really don't. But I do.
That is not all though. There are people I like a lot, or I should say did like, before FB. Now it's all I can do to shake my head and mutter "asshole" when they post their political or religious (or lack their of in this case) views by copying and pasting them on the homepage. These things are posted as gospel or proof of their point when they come from sources like Huffington Post or Buzzfeed. So I leave my computer in a rotten mood and pissed off at the poor misguided soul who posted. And who, by the way, lives across the country and could give a rats ass. So who loses? Him? Nope. I do and so does my family. People will say, "Well there is an unfriend button!" What?? Wait a minute. No, I am not going to go through my friends list "unfriending" people. Just the word "unfriend" is wrong and mean. It is the opposite of how we are supposed to live, right? If you happen to friend someone who is obscene and rude or extra stupid, just block their posts. It's quite easy really. Seriously, I'd have like 10 friends if I "unfriended" everyone who annoyed me. The exceptions are Pope Francis and Fr. Robert Jack (he's cynical and cracks me up and super spot on) and my Uncle Buzz. There are a few others too, but I can't remember (uh, anyone who corners me and asks :) The rest of y'all? Annoying.
The bad is outweighing the good in my case and I thank God for the wisdom to help me see this. Though my faith has grown by leaps and bounds through the years, my soul is (and always will be) in need of some desperate work. And no doubt, the devil is hard at work in this case and is very sly… making me think I NEED to keep up on current events in the lives of my family (HELLO?? Telephone call, anyone?) and friends. That is the lure used to keep me chained to social media, which in turn also allows me to also see things that make me angry and unkind or tempt me to make fun of people who are just dumb on Facebook. God certainly did not create me to be that person. I no longer want to spend lunches with friends, long runs or precious alone time with my husband talking about the stupidity or what I think is the sad or fake lives of others. So screw you, Satan. Game over.
I think I will make it in my new caveman world of simple texts and phone calls. I will admit that it will be really hard for me to do this as I love to scroll down the FB homepage and take a peek at the lives (real or fake) of others. And if I have a super cute picture of my kids, I'll text it to one of my sisters to post their GORGEOUS nieces and nephews.
PS… John, totally hitting that grocery store now like I said I was…
I am so damn tired of living in a distracted and moody state that I have decided to rid myself of any type of social media for good. Not just temporarily. Not just for now. For good.
Now the typical, drawn out, genetically predisposed "Corey" version:
For starters, this is not a "lesson". I am not writing to voice my arrogance or for neediness for others to agree with me. I am not writing so people fluff me with complements or learn any sort of life lesson from me. I am overloaded with articles and blogs like that daily and I've resorted to rolling my eyes. See what I mean by my nutshell version? I am writing because it brings me joy. A joy I have for so long gone without because I'm too busy with things that fill my head with garbage and bust my good moods (BTW, B… your post yesterday was awesome and brought me extreme joy and as always, Aleisa's do too :).
I have been toying with leaving social media (Facebook) for a long time. I know that it is a big time waster and can be overly addicting for me. I will acknowledge what my sister pointed out yesterday…it keeps my very large extended family connected in a way we never were before. I'm closer to my cousins now more than I ever was and I get to see pictures of my growing nieces and nephews often. There are posts and pictures that make me laugh daily. I can wish someone a happy birthday and when Nora was alive, I knew when something went wrong by her mother's prayer requests. I don't watch the news or read the paper so it was through FB that I learned of Pope Francis's family tragedy yesterday and added him, and them, to my prayers today. These are all wonderful ways to use Facebook and social media in general and why I struggle to come to the decision to exit this virtual world. Also, I think my kids are damn cute and I think all 400 plus of my "friends" need to see them!
But then there is the dark side of Facebook for ME.
When I look at my attitude about others and life in general, there has been a definite shift over the last 6 years. Oh it has been subtle, but it is large scale. I was born an optimistic and happy person. Ask my parents… I was a delightful and happy child (miserably bad teen) and grew into a generally happy adult. But when I step back and evaluate a day in my life now, I see a cynical and negative outlook that I can only attribute to adopting from how I see others lives displayed through social media. It isn't THEIR fault. It's mine. Let's face it, people put their best selves forward in public. And when I KNOW it's fake, it enrages me. But WHY? Why the heck should I care what hat someone else decides to wear for the whole world to see? I don't know. I really don't. But I do.
That is not all though. There are people I like a lot, or I should say did like, before FB. Now it's all I can do to shake my head and mutter "asshole" when they post their political or religious (or lack their of in this case) views by copying and pasting them on the homepage. These things are posted as gospel or proof of their point when they come from sources like Huffington Post or Buzzfeed. So I leave my computer in a rotten mood and pissed off at the poor misguided soul who posted. And who, by the way, lives across the country and could give a rats ass. So who loses? Him? Nope. I do and so does my family. People will say, "Well there is an unfriend button!" What?? Wait a minute. No, I am not going to go through my friends list "unfriending" people. Just the word "unfriend" is wrong and mean. It is the opposite of how we are supposed to live, right? If you happen to friend someone who is obscene and rude or extra stupid, just block their posts. It's quite easy really. Seriously, I'd have like 10 friends if I "unfriended" everyone who annoyed me. The exceptions are Pope Francis and Fr. Robert Jack (he's cynical and cracks me up and super spot on) and my Uncle Buzz. There are a few others too, but I can't remember (uh, anyone who corners me and asks :) The rest of y'all? Annoying.
The bad is outweighing the good in my case and I thank God for the wisdom to help me see this. Though my faith has grown by leaps and bounds through the years, my soul is (and always will be) in need of some desperate work. And no doubt, the devil is hard at work in this case and is very sly… making me think I NEED to keep up on current events in the lives of my family (HELLO?? Telephone call, anyone?) and friends. That is the lure used to keep me chained to social media, which in turn also allows me to also see things that make me angry and unkind or tempt me to make fun of people who are just dumb on Facebook. God certainly did not create me to be that person. I no longer want to spend lunches with friends, long runs or precious alone time with my husband talking about the stupidity or what I think is the sad or fake lives of others. So screw you, Satan. Game over.
I think I will make it in my new caveman world of simple texts and phone calls. I will admit that it will be really hard for me to do this as I love to scroll down the FB homepage and take a peek at the lives (real or fake) of others. And if I have a super cute picture of my kids, I'll text it to one of my sisters to post their GORGEOUS nieces and nephews.
PS… John, totally hitting that grocery store now like I said I was…
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Let's Pretend
Let's pretend that God doesn't exist, but that I live as He does.
So here is what I suspect would happen. I choose to live my life as a faithful servant of God (who really does not exist). I choose to believe with all my heart that He does and that the Ten Commandments really are His rules for us to live by. I choose to fear judgement day every time I fail to act in accordance with those commandments and ask for forgiveness and trust in His mercy when I am sincere. And I choose to do that not only because I fear judgement, but because I love God and don't want to hurt Him. I screw up over and over every day and never stop believing in God's forgiveness and mercy and never stop seeking it.
So then I get old. I mean, really old. I am running along one day at the age of 95 (yep, still running!). I feel some pain in my chest and down my left arm. I get really dizzy and I realize, this is the end. I then fall down and die. From then on, I know nothing. God does not exist, but I don't care that I lived as though He did because I am dead. Gone. Kaput. I certainly don't feel duped or snowed… because I'm dead. My family buries me (or as I have requested, spread my ashes along the Boston Marathon course so at least I FINALLY can say I was on it. Even though I won't care because I'm dead and know nothing). My body rots and eventually disintegrates into dust. Only bones are left. Who cares? Won't bother me. I am dead. No soul, no nothing. I regret nothing. Because I am nothing. I simply, am not.
But God does exist. And suppose I live as though He does not or that it does not matter that He does.
And I'm running along at the age of 95 and fall down dead from a heart attack. And everything I chose to cast away as fairy tale or fantasy in regard to the existence of God suddenly matters more than anything ever did. It will determine where I spend eternity.
That's a HUGE problem. Not a risk I'm willing to take.
Live as though God exists. Because He does and it matters more than anything in life every will.
So here is what I suspect would happen. I choose to live my life as a faithful servant of God (who really does not exist). I choose to believe with all my heart that He does and that the Ten Commandments really are His rules for us to live by. I choose to fear judgement day every time I fail to act in accordance with those commandments and ask for forgiveness and trust in His mercy when I am sincere. And I choose to do that not only because I fear judgement, but because I love God and don't want to hurt Him. I screw up over and over every day and never stop believing in God's forgiveness and mercy and never stop seeking it.
So then I get old. I mean, really old. I am running along one day at the age of 95 (yep, still running!). I feel some pain in my chest and down my left arm. I get really dizzy and I realize, this is the end. I then fall down and die. From then on, I know nothing. God does not exist, but I don't care that I lived as though He did because I am dead. Gone. Kaput. I certainly don't feel duped or snowed… because I'm dead. My family buries me (or as I have requested, spread my ashes along the Boston Marathon course so at least I FINALLY can say I was on it. Even though I won't care because I'm dead and know nothing). My body rots and eventually disintegrates into dust. Only bones are left. Who cares? Won't bother me. I am dead. No soul, no nothing. I regret nothing. Because I am nothing. I simply, am not.
But God does exist. And suppose I live as though He does not or that it does not matter that He does.
And I'm running along at the age of 95 and fall down dead from a heart attack. And everything I chose to cast away as fairy tale or fantasy in regard to the existence of God suddenly matters more than anything ever did. It will determine where I spend eternity.
That's a HUGE problem. Not a risk I'm willing to take.
Live as though God exists. Because He does and it matters more than anything in life every will.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Meb vs. Ryan according to stupid people
Unless you live under a rock, by now you know that American elite runner, Meb Keflezighi, won the Boston Marathon last Monday on Patriots Day. And unless you also live under a rock, I'm sure you've heard about how Ryan Hall may have somehow played a part in his victory. And regardless of whether you think Hall deserves a little bit of credit or you think he is a pompous ass, I'd like to pose one question… how many people actually know the stories and have followed the careers of these two American elite runners? How many of people know their race histories, amazing victories, devastating setbacks and relationship as training partners and friends? For those that don't, a judgement on either of these men based on media coverage that only skims the surface of who they are beyond Boston 2014, doesn't carry much weight (in my opinion).
What prompted this post was an interview posted by Competitor Running, a site I follow and frequent on Facebook. In listening to Bob Babbitt interview Hall, I can see how Hall comes across a bit arrogant at times, but he also had a lot of validity to what he was saying. In other words, because I've read much of Hall's autobiography, I can hear his personality come through (not trying to act like I know the guy, but reading someone's story gives you insight into the way they think and act). The comments under the posting infuriated me, mostly because people thought Hall was taking credit for Meb's victory. NO, he was NOT! Meb ran a fantastic race and deserved every bit of that win. He was strategic and in top shape. His race was executed precisely as he had planned and probably visualized over and over in training. Meb Keflezighi was the sole first place winner of the Boston Marathon.
But Ryan Hall did help his friend. No one can say that Meb wouldn't have won anyway. He likely would have. No one will ever know. But to bash and make such hateful comments such as "Ryan Hall is an ass. Dude hasn't run a good race in over 2 years. Showed his true colors when he pulled out of the London Olympics. He needs to just go away.", shows how absolutely stupid people are when they dare to publicly comment on what they DON'T know.
Ryan Hall holds the fastest American record for the marathon at 2:04 (and change). Meb's PR was in Boston, 3 minutes and 59 seconds slower than Hall's PR. But Ryan has never won a major marathon and Meb has. Place is what gets you the win when racing… any race. That is a fact. Therefore, many people have commented that time doesn't matter and the better runner is the one that gets the higher place and therefore, Meb is better than Ryan. Oh is that so? I am certain I have placed higher in shorter (or longer distance) races than some people that have qualified for Boston. And those people with qualifying times have been able to participate in the Boston Marathon. But my place in any race did not get me into Boston. And hypothetically, even if I had won a marathon on a Boston qualifying marathon course with a 4 hour time (because there were only 3 runners :), I would not be going to Boston. My time, and time only, will get me there.
So that argument is really, really stupid.
I have followed the careers of both these men. They are both top notch, exceptional athletes as well as men of stellar character. They are both devout Christians, which again, if one knew that, he wouldn't be commenting that "Hall only does things for his own glory. No one else." Dear God, idiot, read something about him or perhaps visit the Hall Foundation website and then see what a stupid comment that is! This is a man whom his teammates respect. Otherwise, why would they listen to him on the race course? If I had trained my butt off and was in the lead pack in Boston and was running with some guy who was only in it for himself, there isn't a snowball's chance in hell I would waste a second even considering his suggestions. But they did. And one of the lead Americans, Nicholas Arciniaga, said this:
“So we kept it slow. I don’t know if that did anything to help. But those guys had to work to catch Meb. I think Ryan was really smart to (think to) be able to say that (in the middle of the race).”
Doesn't sound like a bitter and bullied runner to me! Sounds like he knows and respects Hall's character and opinions and therefore, CHOSE to follow his advice.
In 2007, after the New York olympic trials marathon, Meb was crawling around his hotel room as the result of a hip fracture that denied him a spot in the olympics that year. He couldn't walk and had also just learned that another training partner and elite runner, Ryan Shay, had dropped dead on the course. He described that as the "low point in my career". So what did he do? He describes a moment when he just cried and prayed and said, "God, if you want me to continue doing this… which I believe you have called me to do…then help me see that. Otherwise, make it clear that I need to retire." No wonder I got choked up watching him break the tape 7 years later in Boston. And this was not just any year. I know exactly why Meb Keflezighi won that race. And so does he. In everything that happens to him from the tragic to the glorious, he turns to God. His day was coming and he trusted that and at 38 years old, an age that is tough to compete at this level, he pulled off the seemingly impossible in the most meaningful Boston Marathon in history.
As for Hall, who hasn't had low points in their careers? Running is a career for Hall and like Meb, Ryan feels that God called him to run starting in the 8th grade. Part of being so devoted to the Lord is learning to keep that faith alive and strong during some very difficult times. It is easy to love and praise God when life is easy and we are winning. It's a whole other story when life is hard. I do believe it is the most faithful that are tested far more than the luke warm. And so it is also obvious to me why such an amazing athlete like Ryan Hall has had a couple of pretty miserable years. He has been riddled with injuries and has had to pull from many races. He had high hopes for Boston and was so disappointed with his performance. But knowing what I have learned about Ryan Hall, I do not believe for one minute he is taking the glory of this race from Meb. And I believe very much that he tried hard to sacrifice a bit (once he knew he didn't have it in him that day to win or come close) so that an American, one that he loves and respects, could win.
I hope that this ridiculous attack against Ryan Hall stops soon. While everyone is entitled to an opinion, it is much easier to put credence into the opinion of someone who knows what these guys are about on a personal level. And they are both wonderful guys and A-MAZING athletes.
See? All my reading and stalking the elites isn't so futile after all :)
What prompted this post was an interview posted by Competitor Running, a site I follow and frequent on Facebook. In listening to Bob Babbitt interview Hall, I can see how Hall comes across a bit arrogant at times, but he also had a lot of validity to what he was saying. In other words, because I've read much of Hall's autobiography, I can hear his personality come through (not trying to act like I know the guy, but reading someone's story gives you insight into the way they think and act). The comments under the posting infuriated me, mostly because people thought Hall was taking credit for Meb's victory. NO, he was NOT! Meb ran a fantastic race and deserved every bit of that win. He was strategic and in top shape. His race was executed precisely as he had planned and probably visualized over and over in training. Meb Keflezighi was the sole first place winner of the Boston Marathon.
But Ryan Hall did help his friend. No one can say that Meb wouldn't have won anyway. He likely would have. No one will ever know. But to bash and make such hateful comments such as "Ryan Hall is an ass. Dude hasn't run a good race in over 2 years. Showed his true colors when he pulled out of the London Olympics. He needs to just go away.", shows how absolutely stupid people are when they dare to publicly comment on what they DON'T know.
Ryan Hall holds the fastest American record for the marathon at 2:04 (and change). Meb's PR was in Boston, 3 minutes and 59 seconds slower than Hall's PR. But Ryan has never won a major marathon and Meb has. Place is what gets you the win when racing… any race. That is a fact. Therefore, many people have commented that time doesn't matter and the better runner is the one that gets the higher place and therefore, Meb is better than Ryan. Oh is that so? I am certain I have placed higher in shorter (or longer distance) races than some people that have qualified for Boston. And those people with qualifying times have been able to participate in the Boston Marathon. But my place in any race did not get me into Boston. And hypothetically, even if I had won a marathon on a Boston qualifying marathon course with a 4 hour time (because there were only 3 runners :), I would not be going to Boston. My time, and time only, will get me there.
So that argument is really, really stupid.
I have followed the careers of both these men. They are both top notch, exceptional athletes as well as men of stellar character. They are both devout Christians, which again, if one knew that, he wouldn't be commenting that "Hall only does things for his own glory. No one else." Dear God, idiot, read something about him or perhaps visit the Hall Foundation website and then see what a stupid comment that is! This is a man whom his teammates respect. Otherwise, why would they listen to him on the race course? If I had trained my butt off and was in the lead pack in Boston and was running with some guy who was only in it for himself, there isn't a snowball's chance in hell I would waste a second even considering his suggestions. But they did. And one of the lead Americans, Nicholas Arciniaga, said this:
“So we kept it slow. I don’t know if that did anything to help. But those guys had to work to catch Meb. I think Ryan was really smart to (think to) be able to say that (in the middle of the race).”
Doesn't sound like a bitter and bullied runner to me! Sounds like he knows and respects Hall's character and opinions and therefore, CHOSE to follow his advice.
In 2007, after the New York olympic trials marathon, Meb was crawling around his hotel room as the result of a hip fracture that denied him a spot in the olympics that year. He couldn't walk and had also just learned that another training partner and elite runner, Ryan Shay, had dropped dead on the course. He described that as the "low point in my career". So what did he do? He describes a moment when he just cried and prayed and said, "God, if you want me to continue doing this… which I believe you have called me to do…then help me see that. Otherwise, make it clear that I need to retire." No wonder I got choked up watching him break the tape 7 years later in Boston. And this was not just any year. I know exactly why Meb Keflezighi won that race. And so does he. In everything that happens to him from the tragic to the glorious, he turns to God. His day was coming and he trusted that and at 38 years old, an age that is tough to compete at this level, he pulled off the seemingly impossible in the most meaningful Boston Marathon in history.
As for Hall, who hasn't had low points in their careers? Running is a career for Hall and like Meb, Ryan feels that God called him to run starting in the 8th grade. Part of being so devoted to the Lord is learning to keep that faith alive and strong during some very difficult times. It is easy to love and praise God when life is easy and we are winning. It's a whole other story when life is hard. I do believe it is the most faithful that are tested far more than the luke warm. And so it is also obvious to me why such an amazing athlete like Ryan Hall has had a couple of pretty miserable years. He has been riddled with injuries and has had to pull from many races. He had high hopes for Boston and was so disappointed with his performance. But knowing what I have learned about Ryan Hall, I do not believe for one minute he is taking the glory of this race from Meb. And I believe very much that he tried hard to sacrifice a bit (once he knew he didn't have it in him that day to win or come close) so that an American, one that he loves and respects, could win.
I hope that this ridiculous attack against Ryan Hall stops soon. While everyone is entitled to an opinion, it is much easier to put credence into the opinion of someone who knows what these guys are about on a personal level. And they are both wonderful guys and A-MAZING athletes.
See? All my reading and stalking the elites isn't so futile after all :)
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
It sucked!
When I started this blog in 2010, it was a way for me to do something I love (write), as well as a fun way to show the progression of one's mind and body in the process of going after a goal such as qualifying for the Boston marathon. While writing for some is a painful and mundane act, for others it is an outlet… a source of therapy, if you will, much like running. I guess I am crazy enough to need both types of therapy. I can honestly say I didn't expect to still be blogging about this 4 1/2 years later, that's for sure. If you would have asked me back then, I would have guessed a year, tops. I figured I'd have a couple of Boston Marathons under my belt by now. Heck, it would be an annual event like it is for so many of Boston's participants!
I sit here dumbfounded that it has not happened. I sit here, still in shock over the horrible race that came from the Athen's Marathon.
I don't want to recap Sunday. I did in an email to my running group, who tracked our progress throughout the race, but that is as far as I want to go with it. From start to finish it was an exhausting battle of mind and body and to that, all I can say is, based on my training and my experience, it should not have been. Yes, it was warm, but the temps were not the only thing affecting the race.
But I do want to touch on something that may be a pressing question to many. Since Saturday's post was about my reliance on God during that race, I fear that many will think that the prayers for a successful race were pointless. Did God answer "yes" to my ever so specific prayers and to the ever so specific prayers of all our wonderful families and friends also praying for us? No, He did not. Could He have made everything perfect? Tweaked my mind? Given strength to my legs? Cooled it down a bit? Of course He could have. He is God. Am a just a wee bit perplexed as to why He didn't? Of course I am. I am human.
But there is a difference between being perplexed and losing faith in God. I always try to remember that we are like children in every sense of the word. We are like the two year old asking for the cookie before dinner. Or the teenager asking to go to an unsupervised party. We say please, use our manners and do everything we are "supposed" to do in hopes of being granted a certain privilege. Because of doing those things, we feel entitled to the reward, i.e.., cookie and party. But our parents know that neither of those things are a good idea, though as a two year old or a teenager (who in my opinion have about the same amount of egocentrism), it seems like the meanest and most unfair thing on earth. After all, what can be so wrong with something that tastes so good or is so fun? Now I am certainly not saying that running a good race since I put in the training and have the physical ability is asking for too much. I am simply trying to drive home the point that my small human mind is not always privy to understanding the incredible and almighty God. Much like a child cannot understand a parent's reasoning.
There are stories, countless stories, of people who have seen God's purpose in life's trials only after something happens. A few people last year said that perhaps there was purpose in me NOT being in Boston in 2013. Who knows where my family would have been waiting for me? Who knows where I would have been? I just don't believe that random things that happen in life are just random. There is a method to God's music. Most of the time we can't handle the fact that we don't know the method.
There is another element to the race that has come into light after some reflection. I wanted to go into the race and make sure I offered up my miles for others. It was the beginning of Holy Week and the beginning of Christ's passion, a time of unimaginable suffering both physically and mentally, though his mental suffering started long before his betrayal and crucifixion. And heck, it worked like a charm at Burning River, where I had a lot of physical suffering but not mental or psychological. And I could handle the physical suffering. Certainly I could get the same results! But as I ran, I struggled… terribly. And I won't lie, much of it was anger and trying to calm that anger. I fought and I fought and I fought for 26.51 miles (because that is how long that f%*k%ng marathon was) with waves of different emotions. From start to finish, it was the greatest challenge, mind and body, I have ever encountered. And though I do not DARE compare that type of suffering to the type that Jesus suffered, I can certainly draw some correlation to what it meant.
What I wanted with that race was to glorify God and run with a thankful heart. I wanted to offer all that I had to give for all of which I have been blessed.
I ran with all that I had, in a vicious battle, mostly mental, for over 4 hours and was left with a race time that was 30 minutes off my goal.
And though I won't know until I die and I hand God a lengthy list of "WTF?" questions for Him to answer, perhaps this race was more glorious than I know.
Have a blessed and safe Easter!
I sit here dumbfounded that it has not happened. I sit here, still in shock over the horrible race that came from the Athen's Marathon.
I don't want to recap Sunday. I did in an email to my running group, who tracked our progress throughout the race, but that is as far as I want to go with it. From start to finish it was an exhausting battle of mind and body and to that, all I can say is, based on my training and my experience, it should not have been. Yes, it was warm, but the temps were not the only thing affecting the race.
But I do want to touch on something that may be a pressing question to many. Since Saturday's post was about my reliance on God during that race, I fear that many will think that the prayers for a successful race were pointless. Did God answer "yes" to my ever so specific prayers and to the ever so specific prayers of all our wonderful families and friends also praying for us? No, He did not. Could He have made everything perfect? Tweaked my mind? Given strength to my legs? Cooled it down a bit? Of course He could have. He is God. Am a just a wee bit perplexed as to why He didn't? Of course I am. I am human.
But there is a difference between being perplexed and losing faith in God. I always try to remember that we are like children in every sense of the word. We are like the two year old asking for the cookie before dinner. Or the teenager asking to go to an unsupervised party. We say please, use our manners and do everything we are "supposed" to do in hopes of being granted a certain privilege. Because of doing those things, we feel entitled to the reward, i.e.., cookie and party. But our parents know that neither of those things are a good idea, though as a two year old or a teenager (who in my opinion have about the same amount of egocentrism), it seems like the meanest and most unfair thing on earth. After all, what can be so wrong with something that tastes so good or is so fun? Now I am certainly not saying that running a good race since I put in the training and have the physical ability is asking for too much. I am simply trying to drive home the point that my small human mind is not always privy to understanding the incredible and almighty God. Much like a child cannot understand a parent's reasoning.
There are stories, countless stories, of people who have seen God's purpose in life's trials only after something happens. A few people last year said that perhaps there was purpose in me NOT being in Boston in 2013. Who knows where my family would have been waiting for me? Who knows where I would have been? I just don't believe that random things that happen in life are just random. There is a method to God's music. Most of the time we can't handle the fact that we don't know the method.
There is another element to the race that has come into light after some reflection. I wanted to go into the race and make sure I offered up my miles for others. It was the beginning of Holy Week and the beginning of Christ's passion, a time of unimaginable suffering both physically and mentally, though his mental suffering started long before his betrayal and crucifixion. And heck, it worked like a charm at Burning River, where I had a lot of physical suffering but not mental or psychological. And I could handle the physical suffering. Certainly I could get the same results! But as I ran, I struggled… terribly. And I won't lie, much of it was anger and trying to calm that anger. I fought and I fought and I fought for 26.51 miles (because that is how long that f%*k%ng marathon was) with waves of different emotions. From start to finish, it was the greatest challenge, mind and body, I have ever encountered. And though I do not DARE compare that type of suffering to the type that Jesus suffered, I can certainly draw some correlation to what it meant.
What I wanted with that race was to glorify God and run with a thankful heart. I wanted to offer all that I had to give for all of which I have been blessed.
I ran with all that I had, in a vicious battle, mostly mental, for over 4 hours and was left with a race time that was 30 minutes off my goal.
And though I won't know until I die and I hand God a lengthy list of "WTF?" questions for Him to answer, perhaps this race was more glorious than I know.
Have a blessed and safe Easter!
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Here we go… again!
Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow I lace up with two of my friends and we run, no, RACE the Athens, Ohio marathon. I will admit, I am nervous, but appropriately so. It would be odd for me not to be even though I have gotten many well wishes and comments of "You are ready!" "You will crush this!" "Don't worry!", (ha ha… that one is my favorite :). Honestly, my very favorite comment was from Suttan, who I ran with on Thursday morning. We were discussing the weather, which has decided to be very warm (80 degrees). Keep in mind I have mostly trained in freezing and sub freezing temps and there is a phenomenon known as acclimatization. No, it won't be 80 by the 8 am start, but it will most certainly be 70 or so by the almost noon finish.
Anyway, as I voiced my concerns over the temps, sweet Erin tried to dismiss my worries, while Suttan said, "I would be worried too. I would not like that." Now while most people would have looked at her like "How could you say that to this head case??", I so appreciated her validating my concerns and making not feel crazy to be worried because yes, temperatures CAN and DO affect performance. Do I really think they will? No. I think I will do well. But I loved, LOVED that she said that to me. She was still very positive and encouraging. So thanks, Suttan :)
Of course I am nervous. I have toed the line in a quest for a BQ in many races past. I have felt very ready at some of those races. The same thing will happen tomorrow. I will start the race, confident I can get the goal. I am planning a slightly different strategy, however, and I have the utmost wonderful pacer and race partners to run with. My running friend, Greg, will also be running. He is as strong and ready as they come and I cannot wait to race with these two. Sarah will be pacing us. She will also be wearing my Garmin. So I will have no clue what pace I am running throughout the race. She has strict instructions to pace easily in the beginning…. in fact, I hope our first splits reflect a slightly slower time than what I need. The course runs along the river in Athens and is out and back. We run down river on the way back and my hope is to take it easy in the first half and run a nice negative split. I run best that way in training, especially during long runs. So we are mixing thing up and hopefully, we come in right where we want. Keeping my head in check will be the biggest challenge. All the "snap out of it!" advice is not helpful in the least. I am who I am. Yes I have an element of control over which thoughts I choose to let linger in my head, but I also cannot "trick" myself. I'm smarter than that :)
And so, as always, I turn to God, who lovingly whispers, "I got it. Don't worry." I have absolutely no qualms about praying for my race. I don't think it's selfish or unimportant to ask for help with something that is important to me. God LOVES when we rely on Him for everything. I know that if it does not counter His will for me or if there is not, yet again, some lesson to be taken from failure, all will be well. I know this. I also know that if I can't trust God with the little things in my life (and trust me, add perspective in and this is little), then I will never be able to trust Him with the big stuff. So go ahead, pray for your races. Pray for strength, pray for endurance, pray for mental fortitude. God is thrilled when you do and He always shows up! Because spirituality and running are so intertwined with me, I think that the day I am racing is eerily relevant. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. The gospel will reflect the betrayal and handing over of Jesus to be beaten and ultimately crucified. Certainly reflecting on the significance of tomorrow's gospel will make a difference for me in how I choose to run.
I'm still nervous, though :)
All nerves aside, I have had a great taper. I am well rested and carbed up, though my body is a bit off kilter from all the carbs. I have slept in most days this week… yesterday until 6:30!!! That is huge for me. I must not be THAT nervous if I'm sleeping well. I got to have lunch with my parents yesterday, which was awesome. It isn't too often I get to just sit with them and chat about all sorts of things. Last weekend, they were the main crew (along with my 12 year old nephew) for my brother Jack's 150 mile ultra marathon (sigh). My dad told me the story of how at one point, he and my mom trekked up a muddy, steep hill en route to an aid station. It was around midnight and they had only a small flash light to guide their way. All these runners were going by with high tech head lamps and flashlights. Here they were, climbing with one flash light. When they reached the aid station, the workers and runners all clapped and cheered as they thought my parents were DOING THE RACE! I thought that was hilarious. My parents are 77 and 76. And honestly, the energy it takes to crew an ultra is immense. Here they were, having a blast doing it. My dad describes the scene as a "happy asylum". I got a kick out of that description because he is so right. You have the craziest people on earth who are so kind, encouraging and polite. They are also in the throws of physical misery and exhaustion WHILE being kind, encouraging and polite. It really is no mystery to me why so many are beginning to discover the world of ultra running. The atmosphere at the races is just awesome.
I love that I have these two people as an example of who I want to be like when I get older. My mother was still having babies in her 40s and many years after the youngest is gone, married and mothering her own children, they are off crewing a grueling and difficult race on little sleep. Their description of the experience showed nothing but pure joy and pride for their son, who completed the race. I was very lucky to be born to these people.
Prayers for Greg, Sarah and me greatly appreciated!
Anyway, as I voiced my concerns over the temps, sweet Erin tried to dismiss my worries, while Suttan said, "I would be worried too. I would not like that." Now while most people would have looked at her like "How could you say that to this head case??", I so appreciated her validating my concerns and making not feel crazy to be worried because yes, temperatures CAN and DO affect performance. Do I really think they will? No. I think I will do well. But I loved, LOVED that she said that to me. She was still very positive and encouraging. So thanks, Suttan :)
Of course I am nervous. I have toed the line in a quest for a BQ in many races past. I have felt very ready at some of those races. The same thing will happen tomorrow. I will start the race, confident I can get the goal. I am planning a slightly different strategy, however, and I have the utmost wonderful pacer and race partners to run with. My running friend, Greg, will also be running. He is as strong and ready as they come and I cannot wait to race with these two. Sarah will be pacing us. She will also be wearing my Garmin. So I will have no clue what pace I am running throughout the race. She has strict instructions to pace easily in the beginning…. in fact, I hope our first splits reflect a slightly slower time than what I need. The course runs along the river in Athens and is out and back. We run down river on the way back and my hope is to take it easy in the first half and run a nice negative split. I run best that way in training, especially during long runs. So we are mixing thing up and hopefully, we come in right where we want. Keeping my head in check will be the biggest challenge. All the "snap out of it!" advice is not helpful in the least. I am who I am. Yes I have an element of control over which thoughts I choose to let linger in my head, but I also cannot "trick" myself. I'm smarter than that :)
And so, as always, I turn to God, who lovingly whispers, "I got it. Don't worry." I have absolutely no qualms about praying for my race. I don't think it's selfish or unimportant to ask for help with something that is important to me. God LOVES when we rely on Him for everything. I know that if it does not counter His will for me or if there is not, yet again, some lesson to be taken from failure, all will be well. I know this. I also know that if I can't trust God with the little things in my life (and trust me, add perspective in and this is little), then I will never be able to trust Him with the big stuff. So go ahead, pray for your races. Pray for strength, pray for endurance, pray for mental fortitude. God is thrilled when you do and He always shows up! Because spirituality and running are so intertwined with me, I think that the day I am racing is eerily relevant. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. The gospel will reflect the betrayal and handing over of Jesus to be beaten and ultimately crucified. Certainly reflecting on the significance of tomorrow's gospel will make a difference for me in how I choose to run.
I'm still nervous, though :)
All nerves aside, I have had a great taper. I am well rested and carbed up, though my body is a bit off kilter from all the carbs. I have slept in most days this week… yesterday until 6:30!!! That is huge for me. I must not be THAT nervous if I'm sleeping well. I got to have lunch with my parents yesterday, which was awesome. It isn't too often I get to just sit with them and chat about all sorts of things. Last weekend, they were the main crew (along with my 12 year old nephew) for my brother Jack's 150 mile ultra marathon (sigh). My dad told me the story of how at one point, he and my mom trekked up a muddy, steep hill en route to an aid station. It was around midnight and they had only a small flash light to guide their way. All these runners were going by with high tech head lamps and flashlights. Here they were, climbing with one flash light. When they reached the aid station, the workers and runners all clapped and cheered as they thought my parents were DOING THE RACE! I thought that was hilarious. My parents are 77 and 76. And honestly, the energy it takes to crew an ultra is immense. Here they were, having a blast doing it. My dad describes the scene as a "happy asylum". I got a kick out of that description because he is so right. You have the craziest people on earth who are so kind, encouraging and polite. They are also in the throws of physical misery and exhaustion WHILE being kind, encouraging and polite. It really is no mystery to me why so many are beginning to discover the world of ultra running. The atmosphere at the races is just awesome.
I love that I have these two people as an example of who I want to be like when I get older. My mother was still having babies in her 40s and many years after the youngest is gone, married and mothering her own children, they are off crewing a grueling and difficult race on little sleep. Their description of the experience showed nothing but pure joy and pride for their son, who completed the race. I was very lucky to be born to these people.
Prayers for Greg, Sarah and me greatly appreciated!
Friday, March 7, 2014
Looking for Angels
We have begun the season of Lent with gusto in our house. Weeks ago, I tried to think of something we could do as a family to bring us closer to God and to get my children to understand the meaning of TRUE sacrifice. As I pondered over what that should be, in that way corner of my brain, the one I try to shut down so often because it tells me to do things I don't WANT to do, I thought, "Give up television." I know families who do this and I always admire them. One year (and she may be doing it again), my sister, Maria, and her two children, became "unplugged". She LOVED it and so did they. And these are kids that love their electronic gadgets! They completely gave up TV, iPads, iPods and so on. Ellie was 8 and Mitch was 6. They are still pretty malleable at that age.
Ever try that on a fifteen year old?
I continued to search for an idea. One that I could live with. The idea of giving up TV was very tempting since I don't really watch it (much). But damn, it sure is a good baby sitter now and again and did I REALLY want to do that to myself? Sounds like someone else needed to learn the meaning of true sacrifice as well. Buckle up, mama.
One night at dinner, the kids were all fighting and, well, let's just say dinner was not peaceful. Nothing new... I mean this is usually 60% of our evening meal experience. In a fit of rage, I began to rattle off my usual banter of how rotten they were being and that things were going to change, dammit! Before I could think clearly, the words just spilled out of my mouth, never, ever able to be taken back. *"By the way, kids, get ready. We are giving up all electronics after dinner for Lent. All of us!"
*(does not include mom needing to email or answer texts or dad taking patient calls... or mom occasionally playing Flappy Bird to beat dad's high score).
Ok, so the Flappy Bird thing is a joke (kind of). But the point is, I said it. They heard it. It was decided and I could not take it back.
An eruption of moans and groans by each of the kids ensued. Will immediately told me this would be impossible as much of his homework is done electronically. Ok, Will, don't be an idiot. Of course homework is not included and you know what I mean! No more watching DVR'd episodes of The Mentalist. No more Full House (thank GOD) for Lucy and Emma and no more youtube videos of Elvis or funny cat pranks for Jack. No more 10 minutes of Food Network for me as I drifted off to sleep at 9:00 pm (that's fine, I could give that up) and no more History Channel for John. Nope. We were powering down.
So what were we going to do? Of course, I wanted to pray more as a family. We've been doing it (most nights, we ain't perfect) and the kids no longer roll their eyes so that's a plus. But perhaps we could do something more. Many nights we have sports practices and by the time everyone is home and showered, it is bedtime anyway. I figured those would be the "easy" nights, although I didn't know what I would do with Lucy, who often afforded me about an hour of peace by watching back to back episodes of her favorite show. Girl needs a mute button when she is hanging out with me... WOW... verbal child!
Weeks ago, I was talking to my cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth lives in Oregon, is a runner (she's cool in my book) and just delivered baby number 5 on Tuesday. As a side note, the day she went in to be induced, she started her day with a run with friends and a light stretching class. Might I say she texted me a picture of herself in her Team Mitch tank that day and I wanted to dislike her. She appears to be hiding a basketball under her top. No hips, no big butt, no fat arms. Nope... thin, beautiful and glowing. She ran throughout the entire pregnancy! Can't hate her if I tried. She is awesome. ANYWAY... Elizabeth had read a book called "Running For My Life". It is the autobiography of Lopez Lamong, an Olympic runner. She was telling me about it and said she had read it to her kids, the oldest of which is 9. They loved it. Lopez was a Sudanese child refugee and became an Olympic star. He attributes all of his success to God, who lovingly saw him through many horrific years of his life.
I was intrigued.
Last night, our first "real" night of no sports and no electronics, started out with John coming home from work saying his stomach felt "off". Given that both boys each spent a night vomiting every hour, then sleeping the next day, I figured there was a high probability that John was on his way. I was correct. Poor John spent the evening/night in bed, and ultimately throwing up many times.
The kids and I had dinner and then attacked homework. I never help Jack with math homework. He hates it and I hate it. And sorry, 5th grade math homework is above my head these days. So John helps him. But last night, that wasn't going to happen. I approached Will, who has no school today (I swear, those St. X kids always seem to be off!) and he willingly took Jack into the dining room and did his homework with him. He was kind to him too. I heard him TEACHING him and explaining things to him. Angel #1.
Emma cleaned up the kitchen (don't be too impressed. It was her turn and she complained, but hey, she did it), while Lucy and I attacked the unfolded laundry. When that was done, we read her book for school. Earlier in the evening, Emma needed help with English. Now that is where I can help... usually. Last night's edition was 17 sentences of figuring out when to use forms of "lay" and "lie". Well, who knew there were so many options to choose from... we had "lain, laid, lay, lie, lied... and blah, blah, blah...I didn't have time to review the rules, so a call to Grandma Corey was in order! Ten minutes later, we had our sentences done and mom was reminded of the rules of when to use each form. Emma was happy. I was happy. Angel #2 (thank you, mom!).
With dishes done, Jack's math done, Lucy's homework done, the dog fed and put to bed and laundry folded and put upstairs, it was time to say our prayers. I had decided after I talked to Elizabeth that day that I'd like to read that book. I also decided I'd like my kids to hear his story. John downloaded the book on the iPad Kindle (usage of this doesn't count since I am just reading a book). I called the kids into the living room, was met with a few exasperated sighs, and began reading. I told them I would read one chapter a night when we were all home. They figured they could suffer through just ONE chapter. I read chapter one and none of them moved. They did not budge. Not even Emma. "Should I read another chapter?" "Yes." It was unanimous. I cannot tell you the last time we had a vote that ended unanimously in this house. That never, EVER happens.
The story begins with Lopez being kidnapped from his mothers arms by rebel soldiers. He vividly recalls his parents chasing the truck he was thrown into and screaming and crying. I had to pause a few times as I read to compose myself. He was six years old.
The story continues on about where he was taken (don't want to give it away in case you want to read it!) and what happened to him. The horror was unbelievable. What captivated me was this tiny boy's recognition of God sending 3 angels (older boys, also kidnapped, that took care of him as best they could) to help him.
And suddenly I got it. And the kids got it. No matter WHAT we are going through in life or how awful and horrible our situation, God is caring for us. Always. How many times do I lament over a situation or hardship, never seeing what is right in front of me? How could this boy of six see it in the worst of situations?
I also realized last night, the angels right in my home (and on the phone) helping me. Not even knowing they were being such. I could have stamped around and been upset at all I had to do on my own with John sick (never considering what my sister goes though as a single mother every single night). I could have, but for some reason, I didn't. Perhaps a heavenly angel on my shoulder? Who knows because I can be good at the occasional pity party.
We finished after two chapters. I know the kids are looking forward to hearing the whole story and I am looking forward to reading it to them. I HIGHLY recommend it even after just two chapters. It was now 9:00 and time for bed. "Hey Lucy, I think I'm going to sleep in your bed tonight since daddy is sick." Lucy's eyes lit up at the prospect of having me all to herself in her twin bed (UGH!). "Mom, Lucy can sleep with me so you can have the bed to yourself." I had to make sure that was really Emma, though it sure sounded like her. Yep, sure enough, it was. Angel #3.
Thank you, God. For everything.
Ever try that on a fifteen year old?
I continued to search for an idea. One that I could live with. The idea of giving up TV was very tempting since I don't really watch it (much). But damn, it sure is a good baby sitter now and again and did I REALLY want to do that to myself? Sounds like someone else needed to learn the meaning of true sacrifice as well. Buckle up, mama.
One night at dinner, the kids were all fighting and, well, let's just say dinner was not peaceful. Nothing new... I mean this is usually 60% of our evening meal experience. In a fit of rage, I began to rattle off my usual banter of how rotten they were being and that things were going to change, dammit! Before I could think clearly, the words just spilled out of my mouth, never, ever able to be taken back. *"By the way, kids, get ready. We are giving up all electronics after dinner for Lent. All of us!"
*(does not include mom needing to email or answer texts or dad taking patient calls... or mom occasionally playing Flappy Bird to beat dad's high score).
Ok, so the Flappy Bird thing is a joke (kind of). But the point is, I said it. They heard it. It was decided and I could not take it back.
An eruption of moans and groans by each of the kids ensued. Will immediately told me this would be impossible as much of his homework is done electronically. Ok, Will, don't be an idiot. Of course homework is not included and you know what I mean! No more watching DVR'd episodes of The Mentalist. No more Full House (thank GOD) for Lucy and Emma and no more youtube videos of Elvis or funny cat pranks for Jack. No more 10 minutes of Food Network for me as I drifted off to sleep at 9:00 pm (that's fine, I could give that up) and no more History Channel for John. Nope. We were powering down.
So what were we going to do? Of course, I wanted to pray more as a family. We've been doing it (most nights, we ain't perfect) and the kids no longer roll their eyes so that's a plus. But perhaps we could do something more. Many nights we have sports practices and by the time everyone is home and showered, it is bedtime anyway. I figured those would be the "easy" nights, although I didn't know what I would do with Lucy, who often afforded me about an hour of peace by watching back to back episodes of her favorite show. Girl needs a mute button when she is hanging out with me... WOW... verbal child!
Weeks ago, I was talking to my cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth lives in Oregon, is a runner (she's cool in my book) and just delivered baby number 5 on Tuesday. As a side note, the day she went in to be induced, she started her day with a run with friends and a light stretching class. Might I say she texted me a picture of herself in her Team Mitch tank that day and I wanted to dislike her. She appears to be hiding a basketball under her top. No hips, no big butt, no fat arms. Nope... thin, beautiful and glowing. She ran throughout the entire pregnancy! Can't hate her if I tried. She is awesome. ANYWAY... Elizabeth had read a book called "Running For My Life". It is the autobiography of Lopez Lamong, an Olympic runner. She was telling me about it and said she had read it to her kids, the oldest of which is 9. They loved it. Lopez was a Sudanese child refugee and became an Olympic star. He attributes all of his success to God, who lovingly saw him through many horrific years of his life.
I was intrigued.
Last night, our first "real" night of no sports and no electronics, started out with John coming home from work saying his stomach felt "off". Given that both boys each spent a night vomiting every hour, then sleeping the next day, I figured there was a high probability that John was on his way. I was correct. Poor John spent the evening/night in bed, and ultimately throwing up many times.
The kids and I had dinner and then attacked homework. I never help Jack with math homework. He hates it and I hate it. And sorry, 5th grade math homework is above my head these days. So John helps him. But last night, that wasn't going to happen. I approached Will, who has no school today (I swear, those St. X kids always seem to be off!) and he willingly took Jack into the dining room and did his homework with him. He was kind to him too. I heard him TEACHING him and explaining things to him. Angel #1.
Emma cleaned up the kitchen (don't be too impressed. It was her turn and she complained, but hey, she did it), while Lucy and I attacked the unfolded laundry. When that was done, we read her book for school. Earlier in the evening, Emma needed help with English. Now that is where I can help... usually. Last night's edition was 17 sentences of figuring out when to use forms of "lay" and "lie". Well, who knew there were so many options to choose from... we had "lain, laid, lay, lie, lied... and blah, blah, blah...I didn't have time to review the rules, so a call to Grandma Corey was in order! Ten minutes later, we had our sentences done and mom was reminded of the rules of when to use each form. Emma was happy. I was happy. Angel #2 (thank you, mom!).
With dishes done, Jack's math done, Lucy's homework done, the dog fed and put to bed and laundry folded and put upstairs, it was time to say our prayers. I had decided after I talked to Elizabeth that day that I'd like to read that book. I also decided I'd like my kids to hear his story. John downloaded the book on the iPad Kindle (usage of this doesn't count since I am just reading a book). I called the kids into the living room, was met with a few exasperated sighs, and began reading. I told them I would read one chapter a night when we were all home. They figured they could suffer through just ONE chapter. I read chapter one and none of them moved. They did not budge. Not even Emma. "Should I read another chapter?" "Yes." It was unanimous. I cannot tell you the last time we had a vote that ended unanimously in this house. That never, EVER happens.
The story begins with Lopez being kidnapped from his mothers arms by rebel soldiers. He vividly recalls his parents chasing the truck he was thrown into and screaming and crying. I had to pause a few times as I read to compose myself. He was six years old.
The story continues on about where he was taken (don't want to give it away in case you want to read it!) and what happened to him. The horror was unbelievable. What captivated me was this tiny boy's recognition of God sending 3 angels (older boys, also kidnapped, that took care of him as best they could) to help him.
And suddenly I got it. And the kids got it. No matter WHAT we are going through in life or how awful and horrible our situation, God is caring for us. Always. How many times do I lament over a situation or hardship, never seeing what is right in front of me? How could this boy of six see it in the worst of situations?
I also realized last night, the angels right in my home (and on the phone) helping me. Not even knowing they were being such. I could have stamped around and been upset at all I had to do on my own with John sick (never considering what my sister goes though as a single mother every single night). I could have, but for some reason, I didn't. Perhaps a heavenly angel on my shoulder? Who knows because I can be good at the occasional pity party.
We finished after two chapters. I know the kids are looking forward to hearing the whole story and I am looking forward to reading it to them. I HIGHLY recommend it even after just two chapters. It was now 9:00 and time for bed. "Hey Lucy, I think I'm going to sleep in your bed tonight since daddy is sick." Lucy's eyes lit up at the prospect of having me all to herself in her twin bed (UGH!). "Mom, Lucy can sleep with me so you can have the bed to yourself." I had to make sure that was really Emma, though it sure sounded like her. Yep, sure enough, it was. Angel #3.
Thank you, God. For everything.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Owning It
I have to apologize to all the drivers who fit the previous post's description. I'm not apologizing because I think it is ok to be rude. I am apologizing because the anger I wrote about is two sided. I realized something about myself a few years ago. When everyone on planet earth seems to be annoying me at any given time, the real problem is always me.
Case and point... Yesterday I was meeting some runners from my group at 5:15 to do track repeats. It was the first time we have been able to get on the track since we began training 8 weeks ago. Up until yesterday, we had been doing them on a .5 mile strip of road that is perfect for running but can at times, be traffic heavy. We were happy to finally not have to worry about hitting our paces AND avoid getting hit, as well as have a clear track to run on. The trouble started the second I stepped foot outside. I was greeted with a strong gust of wind and flurries in my face. "You have got to be FREAKING kidding me!" I wanted to turn back around and walk in the house. I tried to ignore the flying snow surrounding my car and the whipping flags as I drove to the track. I had gotten there a bit early because I had laundry that needed to be finished before the kids got up. Stepping out of my car, I began a slow jog to the track. I had to put my head down to avoid the face full of wind and snow that wouldn't let up. I was getting more ticked off by the minute. I knew that the workout would be challenging enough without the wind. I now wondered if I would hit pace at all. I began my warm up around the track. Shortly after I finished my warm up laps, Barbara arrived. I immediately greeted her with a snarky comment about not getting a break, even once, with this weather. She agreed and as the others began to arrive, I again, was quick to point out just how much it sucked. I later realized that a good coach, who assigned the workout to begin with, would have been encouraging, not demoralizing. Most of the girls that showed up are not a fan of running that early to begin with. I am the creator of my own problems.
Yesterday's fit was not unusual for me lately. Last week, I deactivated my Facebook account. I intend to reactivate it once I can turn my bad attitude around. The problem was that everyone was beginning to bother me, yet with the easy access, I couldn't just stay off. Social media and the need to know what is going on with other people many times a day has its grip on me, though I hate admitting it. The best cure for me is to simply cut it out of my life for awhile...stone cold turkey! Again, I quickly acknowledged that "I" am the problem. Not everyone else. It always amazes me what I discover about myself through honest self reflection. It isn't easy to point a finger at myself, but often times, it is necessary. It is the only way I will ever become better...at everything. I am finding it is normal for me to go through these "grumpy spells" now and again. I thank God for my husband and kids, who are often quick to recognize it even before I do. Lucy is especially sensitive and will say, "Mommy, I know something is wrong with you because you are yelling a lot." Usually she says it right after I have yelled about something and I often reply with, "Mommy wouldn't have to yell so much if you guys would just do what I said the first time!!!" Usually I say that while yelling :). Deep down, I know my baby is on to me. And it forces me to want to turn it around right then.
I'm blaming it on the nasty winter this time. It is driving me crazy (and all of the country). But I am also owning up to how I respond to it. The sun will shine again and the snow will soon be gone.
Soldier on!
Case and point... Yesterday I was meeting some runners from my group at 5:15 to do track repeats. It was the first time we have been able to get on the track since we began training 8 weeks ago. Up until yesterday, we had been doing them on a .5 mile strip of road that is perfect for running but can at times, be traffic heavy. We were happy to finally not have to worry about hitting our paces AND avoid getting hit, as well as have a clear track to run on. The trouble started the second I stepped foot outside. I was greeted with a strong gust of wind and flurries in my face. "You have got to be FREAKING kidding me!" I wanted to turn back around and walk in the house. I tried to ignore the flying snow surrounding my car and the whipping flags as I drove to the track. I had gotten there a bit early because I had laundry that needed to be finished before the kids got up. Stepping out of my car, I began a slow jog to the track. I had to put my head down to avoid the face full of wind and snow that wouldn't let up. I was getting more ticked off by the minute. I knew that the workout would be challenging enough without the wind. I now wondered if I would hit pace at all. I began my warm up around the track. Shortly after I finished my warm up laps, Barbara arrived. I immediately greeted her with a snarky comment about not getting a break, even once, with this weather. She agreed and as the others began to arrive, I again, was quick to point out just how much it sucked. I later realized that a good coach, who assigned the workout to begin with, would have been encouraging, not demoralizing. Most of the girls that showed up are not a fan of running that early to begin with. I am the creator of my own problems.
Yesterday's fit was not unusual for me lately. Last week, I deactivated my Facebook account. I intend to reactivate it once I can turn my bad attitude around. The problem was that everyone was beginning to bother me, yet with the easy access, I couldn't just stay off. Social media and the need to know what is going on with other people many times a day has its grip on me, though I hate admitting it. The best cure for me is to simply cut it out of my life for awhile...stone cold turkey! Again, I quickly acknowledged that "I" am the problem. Not everyone else. It always amazes me what I discover about myself through honest self reflection. It isn't easy to point a finger at myself, but often times, it is necessary. It is the only way I will ever become better...at everything. I am finding it is normal for me to go through these "grumpy spells" now and again. I thank God for my husband and kids, who are often quick to recognize it even before I do. Lucy is especially sensitive and will say, "Mommy, I know something is wrong with you because you are yelling a lot." Usually she says it right after I have yelled about something and I often reply with, "Mommy wouldn't have to yell so much if you guys would just do what I said the first time!!!" Usually I say that while yelling :). Deep down, I know my baby is on to me. And it forces me to want to turn it around right then.
I'm blaming it on the nasty winter this time. It is driving me crazy (and all of the country). But I am also owning up to how I respond to it. The sun will shine again and the snow will soon be gone.
Soldier on!
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Angry
There has been something that has been bugging me lately that I just have to vent about. I usually don't take my "issues" and blog about them (publicly anyway), but this one, I must.
WHAT IN THE HELL IS UP WITH ALL THE ANGRY, RUNNER HATIN' DRIVERS OUT THERE?
This winter has been the worst ever. I don't know if this ridiculously cold and snowy mid western winter has just gone and made everyone annoyed and mean, but seriously, bad attitudes are going to kill a runner or two in my town if this keeps up. For example, I can safely say that on 75% of the runs I have done lately, I have had to jump onto the snow banked curb to avoid getting hit. This would be on a four lane road with the lane next to the driver completely free of other cars. Oh and don't think I am not reflective and visible. Because I am. I not only run facing traffic (the correct way for a runner), I also wear a headlamp that drivers can see well enough in advance to think, "Oh hey, there's a runner up ahead. How wonderful and dedicated for that person to be out at 5:30 am, making sure not to take away family time and getting it done before the kids get up. I will get over in the next lane as to not even come close to him/her. Sure hope he/she has a wonderful day. Say, I'd like to try that running sometime!" By the way the cars whiz by, skimming the outside of my jacket, I'm thinking the thought is more like this, "Who is that asshole up ahead in this sub zero degree weather? What a dumbass! Doesn't he/she know that running in weather like this is bad for your lungs/muscles/bones/heart? I think I'm gonna toss my cigarette out at watch him/her cringe. And I ain't moving. This road is for cars, not runners. Oh and I hate my job and am really pissed that I have to go to work this early."
To that person, I'd like to say I pray for you. I'd love to say that. But usually I tell you to f*%k off under my breath and thank you for nearly killing me. I am not doing anything illegal by being out there. I am preserving my sanity and often times figuring out life's problems and saying some prayers... well, until that little distraction comes along.
I have a long way to go. Pray for me, please. And be kind to runners.
WHAT IN THE HELL IS UP WITH ALL THE ANGRY, RUNNER HATIN' DRIVERS OUT THERE?
This winter has been the worst ever. I don't know if this ridiculously cold and snowy mid western winter has just gone and made everyone annoyed and mean, but seriously, bad attitudes are going to kill a runner or two in my town if this keeps up. For example, I can safely say that on 75% of the runs I have done lately, I have had to jump onto the snow banked curb to avoid getting hit. This would be on a four lane road with the lane next to the driver completely free of other cars. Oh and don't think I am not reflective and visible. Because I am. I not only run facing traffic (the correct way for a runner), I also wear a headlamp that drivers can see well enough in advance to think, "Oh hey, there's a runner up ahead. How wonderful and dedicated for that person to be out at 5:30 am, making sure not to take away family time and getting it done before the kids get up. I will get over in the next lane as to not even come close to him/her. Sure hope he/she has a wonderful day. Say, I'd like to try that running sometime!" By the way the cars whiz by, skimming the outside of my jacket, I'm thinking the thought is more like this, "Who is that asshole up ahead in this sub zero degree weather? What a dumbass! Doesn't he/she know that running in weather like this is bad for your lungs/muscles/bones/heart? I think I'm gonna toss my cigarette out at watch him/her cringe. And I ain't moving. This road is for cars, not runners. Oh and I hate my job and am really pissed that I have to go to work this early."
To that person, I'd like to say I pray for you. I'd love to say that. But usually I tell you to f*%k off under my breath and thank you for nearly killing me. I am not doing anything illegal by being out there. I am preserving my sanity and often times figuring out life's problems and saying some prayers... well, until that little distraction comes along.
I have a long way to go. Pray for me, please. And be kind to runners.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Athens Marathon and Life's Other Stuff
The memory is still very fresh... mile 23 of the Indianapolis Marathon last October. In the throws of marathon misery, I vowed I would never race another marathon for as long as I lived. I meant it, too. Every single miserable, awful step, came the promise to myself I was done. Coupled with the fear that my brother Jack, pacing the 4 hour group, was quickly gaining on me, I was in a bad place mentally. The only thing that kept me from walking the rest of the way was the thought of his cheerful, optimistic voice right behind me, passing me and then in front of me. I was nearly 15 minutes behind my goal time as it was. I was in an all too familiar place, one that I hated and one that years ago had drained my love of running. It wasn't until I experienced the world of ultra running that my passion was re-ignited. Give me great distances, food, company and walk breaks... give me all day and I can get the job done. Give me a time goal, a clock and a bit of pressure... and I crumble.
So what is the logical next step? In the the lives of logical people, it is to simply shift all together to running slowly and joyfully. Logical runners in this place run marathons only as training runs... with crowd support, lots of company, chipper conversation and medals at the end. Every long run is a party, not a job or another workout checked off the training list. Well, the good Lord left out the logic gene when he created me. I have registered to run the Athens, Ohio marathon on April 13th. My intent is to race it for a sub 3:45.
Let me back up a bit. I am currently coaching seven spring marathoners. Five of those runners are training to run the Boston Marathon, one is running the Flying Pig as her first marathon, and one is training to run right beside me once again and pace me during the Athens Marathon. I think it may be all the Boston talk. I mean, I run with gals who are training for Boston. The conversations about the race keeps the depression over training conditions at bay (sub zero temps, snow and ice... blah!). Every time Boston is brought up, I get excited. Talk of who still needs plane tickets, who is rooming with whom and where to eat the night before is fun hear and be part of. It is also dangerous. Or maybe it's good. I haven't decided yet. I begin to think, "Now why the hell am I not doing this?" Ok, yes, I know the answer of, "You haven't qualified! Last year, while they were running pace runs, track workouts, hill repeats and tempo runs, you were taking your sweet time on the trail, enjoying nature, eating and ultra training. And before that, you raced and didn't get the time. That's why!" I think those things and I know that ultra training was a good reason not to have raced a qualifying race. However, it kills me to know I have it in me but that I have decided to stop trying because for 6-8 miles of racing a marathon I am hating life. That is no good reason to give up on something I CAN do. None at all. I would never want one of my children to cease reaching for dream but for a few short days, weeks, months or even years of difficulty. Especially when it is an attainable goal should they JUST KEEP TRYING. My kids are very aware of my Boston quest. How could they not be? When phrases like "carb loading", "Don't eat that. It's mom's long run fuel", "I told Mrs. Post that I know what pacing means" and "all we have to eat in the house are these energy gels...", are part of the daily household chatter, I realize they are aware of so much. They are aware of hard work, failure, more hard work, more failure, detours, changing course and getting back on track. Someday, they will see what came from all of it. Success.
Now what the heck with Sarah? How many times is she going to put herself through my miserable racing state? I'm guessing as many times as it takes to drag my ass to Boston. I didn't ask her to do it. Not only does she want a reason to keep her endurance base up, but she WANTS to do it. She WANTS to endure when I completely lose my cool and start being a complete bitch right around mile 18. She WANTS to challenge me and risk getting punched when she tells me to pick it up as I begin to fade. Actually, no, that is not what she wants. What she really wants is to be there when it all comes together. She doesn't want to be at home, tracking me on her phone or computer. In a nutshell, she never loses faith that this will be the race that I achieve a dream whose road has taken me down some unbelievable twists and turns as well as some life altering moments. She knows it's a matter of time. I know it's a matter of time. That is why we both keep doing what we do. I told her last week that Athens was the LAST time I was going to race a marathon. She knows that is such bullshit even before I do. If I get a BQ, I'll then want to run a PR sometime. If you give a moose a muffin, ya know?
The person that endures the most, though, is John. Oh sweet John! He actually lives with this. I think when I came home from Indy declaring that I was done racing, he responded something like, "Ok, or at least until the next time you decide to race." I am most definitely this boy's ticket to Heaven. It takes a really special person to put up with my kind of crazy on a daily basis. It actually has become his normal. He would be very worried about me if I did not change my mind... constantly. John is "training" to run the Flying Pig marathon. It is 3 weeks after Athens and my goal is to run it with my childhood friend, Nicole, and her husband, Jerry. This will be their first marathon and I cannot wait! She is having an awesome training cycle and feels good. John is also going to run this with us. I put training in quotation marks in regard to John because he always does his own special combination of training. It goes like this... run 5 miles as your longest run from October to January. Then, accompany your wife and her friends on a 14 mile long run. On the way home, talk about how your calf was really iffy and that it is a good thing we did not go any farther. Also, make sure you never stretch, roll or ice and for God sakes, do not fuel right. Take several weeks off for some sort of calf or foot ailment. On race day, run a terrific race and have a good time doing it. That's how he rolls. It is annoying and funny and so HIM!
And so we all train on... trying to be creative through the snow, ice and crazy wind. Our lives keep changing, but our group remains constant. Our goals change, but running together does not. Greg, Jen and Cheryl keep vowing to stop doing marathons and yet... here they are, training for marathons. Sondra keeps saying she hates speed work and is moving to ultras, yet Sondra is always kicking our assess and running the fastest in our pace group during workouts, all the while talking comfortably. Sarah keeps saying she has no goals and doesn't want to commit to anything, yet her Athens registration was complete before I blinked. Erin, new to marathoning, is forever doubtful of her ability, yet her race times reflect a fierce competitor and athlete. Suttan hates ice like no one's business and has the stamina and grit to withstand long treadmill runs when the majority of us would rather skip the workout than run on a treadmill. Kim hasn't committed to anything except to burn off a week's worth of hefty calorie consumption. Barbara soaks it all in, analyzes us and I am certain, deems us all as crazy (she's the sports psychologist in our group).
God continues to bless me and I continue to strive to thank Him. In the throws of the daily grind and mundane tasks of everyday, I sometimes get into the pattern of focusing on all that sucks. But my kids keep growing, my husband keeps loving me and I keep running with awesome people. My parents and in-laws are healthy and my siblings are a short drive or phone call away. In other words, all that really matters in life is good at this moment. For that, I am so grateful.
So what is the logical next step? In the the lives of logical people, it is to simply shift all together to running slowly and joyfully. Logical runners in this place run marathons only as training runs... with crowd support, lots of company, chipper conversation and medals at the end. Every long run is a party, not a job or another workout checked off the training list. Well, the good Lord left out the logic gene when he created me. I have registered to run the Athens, Ohio marathon on April 13th. My intent is to race it for a sub 3:45.
Let me back up a bit. I am currently coaching seven spring marathoners. Five of those runners are training to run the Boston Marathon, one is running the Flying Pig as her first marathon, and one is training to run right beside me once again and pace me during the Athens Marathon. I think it may be all the Boston talk. I mean, I run with gals who are training for Boston. The conversations about the race keeps the depression over training conditions at bay (sub zero temps, snow and ice... blah!). Every time Boston is brought up, I get excited. Talk of who still needs plane tickets, who is rooming with whom and where to eat the night before is fun hear and be part of. It is also dangerous. Or maybe it's good. I haven't decided yet. I begin to think, "Now why the hell am I not doing this?" Ok, yes, I know the answer of, "You haven't qualified! Last year, while they were running pace runs, track workouts, hill repeats and tempo runs, you were taking your sweet time on the trail, enjoying nature, eating and ultra training. And before that, you raced and didn't get the time. That's why!" I think those things and I know that ultra training was a good reason not to have raced a qualifying race. However, it kills me to know I have it in me but that I have decided to stop trying because for 6-8 miles of racing a marathon I am hating life. That is no good reason to give up on something I CAN do. None at all. I would never want one of my children to cease reaching for dream but for a few short days, weeks, months or even years of difficulty. Especially when it is an attainable goal should they JUST KEEP TRYING. My kids are very aware of my Boston quest. How could they not be? When phrases like "carb loading", "Don't eat that. It's mom's long run fuel", "I told Mrs. Post that I know what pacing means" and "all we have to eat in the house are these energy gels...", are part of the daily household chatter, I realize they are aware of so much. They are aware of hard work, failure, more hard work, more failure, detours, changing course and getting back on track. Someday, they will see what came from all of it. Success.
Now what the heck with Sarah? How many times is she going to put herself through my miserable racing state? I'm guessing as many times as it takes to drag my ass to Boston. I didn't ask her to do it. Not only does she want a reason to keep her endurance base up, but she WANTS to do it. She WANTS to endure when I completely lose my cool and start being a complete bitch right around mile 18. She WANTS to challenge me and risk getting punched when she tells me to pick it up as I begin to fade. Actually, no, that is not what she wants. What she really wants is to be there when it all comes together. She doesn't want to be at home, tracking me on her phone or computer. In a nutshell, she never loses faith that this will be the race that I achieve a dream whose road has taken me down some unbelievable twists and turns as well as some life altering moments. She knows it's a matter of time. I know it's a matter of time. That is why we both keep doing what we do. I told her last week that Athens was the LAST time I was going to race a marathon. She knows that is such bullshit even before I do. If I get a BQ, I'll then want to run a PR sometime. If you give a moose a muffin, ya know?
The person that endures the most, though, is John. Oh sweet John! He actually lives with this. I think when I came home from Indy declaring that I was done racing, he responded something like, "Ok, or at least until the next time you decide to race." I am most definitely this boy's ticket to Heaven. It takes a really special person to put up with my kind of crazy on a daily basis. It actually has become his normal. He would be very worried about me if I did not change my mind... constantly. John is "training" to run the Flying Pig marathon. It is 3 weeks after Athens and my goal is to run it with my childhood friend, Nicole, and her husband, Jerry. This will be their first marathon and I cannot wait! She is having an awesome training cycle and feels good. John is also going to run this with us. I put training in quotation marks in regard to John because he always does his own special combination of training. It goes like this... run 5 miles as your longest run from October to January. Then, accompany your wife and her friends on a 14 mile long run. On the way home, talk about how your calf was really iffy and that it is a good thing we did not go any farther. Also, make sure you never stretch, roll or ice and for God sakes, do not fuel right. Take several weeks off for some sort of calf or foot ailment. On race day, run a terrific race and have a good time doing it. That's how he rolls. It is annoying and funny and so HIM!
And so we all train on... trying to be creative through the snow, ice and crazy wind. Our lives keep changing, but our group remains constant. Our goals change, but running together does not. Greg, Jen and Cheryl keep vowing to stop doing marathons and yet... here they are, training for marathons. Sondra keeps saying she hates speed work and is moving to ultras, yet Sondra is always kicking our assess and running the fastest in our pace group during workouts, all the while talking comfortably. Sarah keeps saying she has no goals and doesn't want to commit to anything, yet her Athens registration was complete before I blinked. Erin, new to marathoning, is forever doubtful of her ability, yet her race times reflect a fierce competitor and athlete. Suttan hates ice like no one's business and has the stamina and grit to withstand long treadmill runs when the majority of us would rather skip the workout than run on a treadmill. Kim hasn't committed to anything except to burn off a week's worth of hefty calorie consumption. Barbara soaks it all in, analyzes us and I am certain, deems us all as crazy (she's the sports psychologist in our group).
God continues to bless me and I continue to strive to thank Him. In the throws of the daily grind and mundane tasks of everyday, I sometimes get into the pattern of focusing on all that sucks. But my kids keep growing, my husband keeps loving me and I keep running with awesome people. My parents and in-laws are healthy and my siblings are a short drive or phone call away. In other words, all that really matters in life is good at this moment. For that, I am so grateful.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Happy New Year- 2014
While the rest of the world sleeps off a hangover, I sit well rested and ready to face another year. In short, being in bed by 10 pm last night will serve me well today :)
New Year's Eve has never been a favorite of mine. I realize that it is just "one day" to dig deep and stay up late, but I really don't feel the need. The week of Christmas is always exhausting for us (as it is for most people). Couple that with the fact that I am cursed by the genetics of my dad and my internal clock will wake up somewhere between 4-6 am every single day, regardless of whether or not I just went to bed at 3. I'm not kidding... it can be very troublesome. When it happens, I am downright awful to my family the next day.
This year, we considered two gracious invitations by friends to spend New Year's Eve with them. All was contingent on what my out of town sisters were up to, however. After realizing they were going back home on New Year's Eve, we found ourselves free to spend the evening with friends. However, true to form, I woke up yesterday morning at 4:07, even though my alarm was set for a MUCH later 4:45 (so that I could hit a 5:30 TRX class). TRX was followed by a 4 mile run, which was followed by yoga two hours later. A mid morning meeting followed yoga, and then it was home to get the crew ready to meet my in town sister and brothers' families downtown for a day of ice skating. By noon, I knew that I was not going anywhere last evening. All I wanted to do was put on my pajamas, settle in with the family in front of a nice fire, watch a movie and drift off into 2014. And that is just what I did (Yes, neighbors, you woke me up at midnight. But I wasn't mad... just like you won't be mad when I celebrate at 4 am sometime soon!...kidding... didn't mind a bit, nor did it prevent me from falling back to sleep immediately).
This morning I awoke to Facebook posts and pictures of countless New Year's celebrations and status update resolutions. The pictures were so fun to see and the resolutions made me smile. I saw a few that were thrilled to see 2013 leave as they clung to new hope for a better year in 2014. I saw some that felt 2013 was a glorious year filled with countless blessings and they hated to see such a wonderful year come to an end. The spectrum is so wide!
I come into this new year with a much different approach than ever before. Maybe because in the course of the last 12 months, my perspective has shifted dramatically. Obviously there were things that happened in 2013 that were life changing, not the least of which was finishing my first 100 mile race. But the race itself wasn't what changed me. The training and preparation for the race did and those were things that were in the works years before 2013, even though I did not know it. The race was glaring evidence of what had been taking place over a long period of time... that by learning to trust God's plan for my life, failure was impossible. God's plans never fail. I, however, have countless times failed to follow them.
Another reason I don't get jazzed up about the calendar changing to a new year is because I have come to realize that every day that I wake up is a clean slate. Ever single day, every minute of my life I have the chance to do better, be better and start over if I wish. I don't have to wait for the date to change or the year, I just have to decide and try. And I have that chance with every breath I take. By God's grace alone, I can be different today than yesterday, whether it is a new year or not. This is wonderfully reassuring and comforting to me and I hope it offers comfort to anyone who feels as though he must wait for a magic date for changes to start. Change of heart and change in my life can happen the second I will it to, no need to wait.
And so I started this morning like I do most mornings that our 5 month old puppy allows me to... in quietness and prayer. I sat in my chair with my hot coffee, a warm blanket and the full attention of Jesus. He has mine too, which thrills Him. I resolved the same thing today as I did yesterday, in the "old" year... to be better than I was yesterday, in all areas of my life. I asked for guidance, grace and wisdom in some decisions I'm making. I prayed for each of my children and for John and for all the members of my family. I prayed for my friends that are in pain right now, the souls that I know that have gone before me and as always, for sweet Nora and her parents.
I also asked my saintly BFF, St. Sebastian, to intercede with prayer for me that I may stay healthy enough to continue running. God only knows what I'd be like without it and it isn't pretty.
Happiest of New Years to all! I wish you many blessings to come in 2014 and beyond.
PS... taking up running is a FABULOUS New Year's resolution. Just sayin'.
New Year's Eve has never been a favorite of mine. I realize that it is just "one day" to dig deep and stay up late, but I really don't feel the need. The week of Christmas is always exhausting for us (as it is for most people). Couple that with the fact that I am cursed by the genetics of my dad and my internal clock will wake up somewhere between 4-6 am every single day, regardless of whether or not I just went to bed at 3. I'm not kidding... it can be very troublesome. When it happens, I am downright awful to my family the next day.
This year, we considered two gracious invitations by friends to spend New Year's Eve with them. All was contingent on what my out of town sisters were up to, however. After realizing they were going back home on New Year's Eve, we found ourselves free to spend the evening with friends. However, true to form, I woke up yesterday morning at 4:07, even though my alarm was set for a MUCH later 4:45 (so that I could hit a 5:30 TRX class). TRX was followed by a 4 mile run, which was followed by yoga two hours later. A mid morning meeting followed yoga, and then it was home to get the crew ready to meet my in town sister and brothers' families downtown for a day of ice skating. By noon, I knew that I was not going anywhere last evening. All I wanted to do was put on my pajamas, settle in with the family in front of a nice fire, watch a movie and drift off into 2014. And that is just what I did (Yes, neighbors, you woke me up at midnight. But I wasn't mad... just like you won't be mad when I celebrate at 4 am sometime soon!...kidding... didn't mind a bit, nor did it prevent me from falling back to sleep immediately).
This morning I awoke to Facebook posts and pictures of countless New Year's celebrations and status update resolutions. The pictures were so fun to see and the resolutions made me smile. I saw a few that were thrilled to see 2013 leave as they clung to new hope for a better year in 2014. I saw some that felt 2013 was a glorious year filled with countless blessings and they hated to see such a wonderful year come to an end. The spectrum is so wide!
I come into this new year with a much different approach than ever before. Maybe because in the course of the last 12 months, my perspective has shifted dramatically. Obviously there were things that happened in 2013 that were life changing, not the least of which was finishing my first 100 mile race. But the race itself wasn't what changed me. The training and preparation for the race did and those were things that were in the works years before 2013, even though I did not know it. The race was glaring evidence of what had been taking place over a long period of time... that by learning to trust God's plan for my life, failure was impossible. God's plans never fail. I, however, have countless times failed to follow them.
Another reason I don't get jazzed up about the calendar changing to a new year is because I have come to realize that every day that I wake up is a clean slate. Ever single day, every minute of my life I have the chance to do better, be better and start over if I wish. I don't have to wait for the date to change or the year, I just have to decide and try. And I have that chance with every breath I take. By God's grace alone, I can be different today than yesterday, whether it is a new year or not. This is wonderfully reassuring and comforting to me and I hope it offers comfort to anyone who feels as though he must wait for a magic date for changes to start. Change of heart and change in my life can happen the second I will it to, no need to wait.
And so I started this morning like I do most mornings that our 5 month old puppy allows me to... in quietness and prayer. I sat in my chair with my hot coffee, a warm blanket and the full attention of Jesus. He has mine too, which thrills Him. I resolved the same thing today as I did yesterday, in the "old" year... to be better than I was yesterday, in all areas of my life. I asked for guidance, grace and wisdom in some decisions I'm making. I prayed for each of my children and for John and for all the members of my family. I prayed for my friends that are in pain right now, the souls that I know that have gone before me and as always, for sweet Nora and her parents.
I also asked my saintly BFF, St. Sebastian, to intercede with prayer for me that I may stay healthy enough to continue running. God only knows what I'd be like without it and it isn't pretty.
Happiest of New Years to all! I wish you many blessings to come in 2014 and beyond.
PS... taking up running is a FABULOUS New Year's resolution. Just sayin'.
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