grandma's marathon

there was only one goal in my mind during the race last saturday: claudin and i had to finish together.

in all our years of running, one of us had always made it to the line ahead of the other (she'd hand it to me in the shorter races where speed trumps endurance, but then i'd get her in the longer distances where strength beats leg turnover). we've never finished side-by-side before and have always dreamt of crossing the line holding hands, so that end result was my entire motivation. in my mind, there was no.other.way. but with six miles to go, it didn't seem like i was going to get my way.

first, let's go back to the beginning, when everything was going to plan and it was like running in a dream.

a dense fog had consumed lake superior and the scenic highway that ran alongside it's shore that morning. the locals continually apologized for the weather and sure, it would've been nice to see the "great lake", but cool temps and mist? it's a marathon runner's dream. like with most dreams though, my memory of the race is bizarre and probably makes more sense in my head.

so.

i remember standing at the line, straining to see the course, which seemed to dissappear into nothing only 50 feet ahead. there was an excited buzz in the air as we waited for the start, but as soon as the air horn sounded, everything hushed into a loud silence of muffled footsteps and heavy breaths. usually, the beginning of a marathon passes by in a blur, but because of the visibility, it was more like everything oddly emerged in and out of a mist. there was a duck-dog along the side of the road near mile two; a mocha moose around mile three; yellow balloons hanging solemnly in the air at every mile; and a train that slowly chugged parallel to our route with passengers cheering from it's windows. the fog swallowed everything up so fast you wondered whether or not what you saw actually existed - we were in one of dali's fantasy worlds where time vanished and the non rational prevailed.

claudin and i were running quietly in stride through the surrealistic landscape when a voice from behind brought me back to consciousness. it was jen bigham, member of volée, the elite racing team for oiselle and she had spotted me because i was decked out, head-to-toe, in their apparel. hashtag, fangirl.

ANYWAY. the three of us made fast friends and instant racing buddies, forming a flock {oiselle means bird, en francais} that was on a mission to break 2 hours, 50minutes. for almost 15 miles, we flew down the asphalt road together, gliding along the coast and soaring in and out of clouds. we steadily clicked off mile after mile at a 6:30 average and took turns sharing the pacing duties. there was casual chit-chat at first, but once we got past the halfway point, the vibe became more serious and we all got quiet, focusing on our efforts.

i took an energy gel at mile 8, sips of water at every aid station, and another gel at mile 15 - pretty standard fueling for me - but around mile 17, my stomach started to feel a bit off. i tried to distract my mind with positive thoughts and mantras, like this one my high school coach gave me days before the race: "be comfortable being uncomfortable". but when "uncomfortable" became "unbearable", i began desperately looking for a suitable pit stop. then, as we approached mile 19, i saw it in the distance with a light from the heavens cutting through the fog and shining down on it: a port o' john. "i'm going to pull off here, claudi. i'll catch up" i said, without really thinking.

it was only after my group charged onward and the door slam shut behind me that i realized there'd be a lot more that a few seconds i'd have to make up. i kept the watch running, but didn't have to check it to know how far back i'd fallen. by the time i was back on the road, the group was so far ahead that the fog had eaten them up. i was a minute behind and all alone. in a mater of seconds i went through all the emotional stages: panic, despair, frustration, and ultimately, determination. i resolved to stay calm and gradually work my way back.

over the next mile i eased back into pace and kept my eyes ahead, but with six miles remaining, there wasn't much time to make up ground so i had to push. slowly, people came back into view and i could see some runners who were falling off their paces. i stared at their backs, always giving myself a mile to catch them, but doing it in shorter time than that. one by one, i ran them down, flying past both men and women, surprised at how easily they let me by. i didn't care about time anymore, i just wanted to make it back to claudin so that we could finish the damn race holding hands!

finally, with three miles to go, i saw her. she had broken away from our entire group (which at one point had amassed to a flock of five women and a couple of dudes). she looked strong and was also moving past fading runners. there was a tremendous sense of urgency coursing throughout my body as we entered downtown duluth and i questioned whether i'd be able to reach her before she crossed the line. i kept taking advances one runner at a time though and with each one seemed to be gaining momentum.     

with about a mile remaining we crossed a bridge that took us into the harbor area, i powered down the last hill hoping to cover some major ground, but for all my efforts i only seemed to be inching closer - the gap was getting harder to close. luckily all those inches did add up though and as we entered the file 800 meters i was right on her heels. CLAUDIN! i yelled. i wanted to let her know i was there so she wouldn't take off in her final sprint without me but she was just as spent as i was. relieved that i had done it - that i had caught up and that the race was almost over, i was all smiles. we finished stride for stride and ran down the straight-away holding hands.

for the record:

+ not only did i look super fly in my oiselle kit, but the gear is comfortable - no sport bra of shorts-band chafing whatsoever!
+ it takes ONE MINUTE, at least, to get in and out of a port o' john during a race.
+ claudin ran a two minute pr in her second marathon ever - either this girl is on fire or her coach is awesome, but it's most likely a bit of both.
+ finishing a race hand in hand is a lot trickier than it seems and definitely not as glamorous as you'd imagine {the awkward proof is in the finishing photos}.
+ ice cream sundaes taste sweeter after 26.2 miles and no one judges the second you eat when you tell them you ran a marathon that morning.

off to the races

 

remember when i mentioned my first solo trip without august? well, that time has come and today i leave for my annual vacation with claudin: one whole week without children, sleeping in, urban-hiking, photo-journaling, coffee-shop-vulturing, and general pampering. but first, we're running a marathon. i know! {i kind of feel like i've been holding out too.}

the marathon isn't exactly something you just decide to jump in and do one day. i mean you do, but then it takes months of training. and even though i haven't mentioned it on here, i've actually been running a lot in preparation. when i think about it, it's kind of odd that i haven't written about my training. aside from family and work, it's what fills up my day. but i guess running was always such a huge part of my identity and defined me for so long, that i've almost over-compensated by not writing about it at all. when i started this site, it was to get away from whatever stigmas are attached to runners and explore the other sides of me. i was SO set against this site being pegged as a running blog but instead, i've written mostly about family, which has sort of put me in the mommy-blog category, so hey! sometimes even when you try not to be placed in a hole, you end up doing it anyway.

there's entirely way too much that's gone into the last four months of training to get into it now, but things have been going well and you can expect a full report after the race. until then, send speedy thoughts our way on saturday morning at around 10:00 EST {we should be about mid-way around then}

this all feels a bit self-indulgent when i think of a week away from the little guy. *eye roll* here we go again with baby-talk and mama-guilt. but with all the new "tricks" he's learning it's getting harder it is for me to let him out of my sight. even dropping at daycare has been tough a few times when i worried that'd he'd take his first steps without me being there to see them.

when i heard august peep this morning, i jumped out of bed anxious to get to him before andy. i opened the door to this room and saw the familiar sight of him standing in his crib, careening his little head to see who it was. under puffy eyes, a smile broke as he said hiiiiiiiii and i swept him up for a "biiig hug". and I do not know WHY, but this very normal start to our day had me fighting back tears.

ok. i do know why.  it's because everything will be fine and he is going to have a blast while i'm gone.
the older he gets, the less he needs me and i saw that as i watched him and andy pull out the driveway. he was sitting content in his car seat and, after prattling off a couple of words through the closed window, he went back to playing will a ball and cup, like it was no big deal. as they drove off and i stood there waving, my heartstrings tugged inside me. at that moment, i was so grateful that that silly little blondie was ever even mine at all. still, i choked up walking back up to the house, quietly wishing that he will feel safe and be happy while i'm gone.

but andy knows august just as well as i do: he knows his routines and needs, his discomforts and the songs to sing them away. also, they are on their way to grandma and grandpa's house. those two love august as if he were there very own, so he will be plenty loved and cared for. i'm excited to hear how much fun he's going to have and all of my mom blubbering aside, i really am so excited to be able to take this vacation with claudin!

music mix 02: street joy

you know those weekends you decide to fully embrace? the ones where you put off everything that needs to be done so you can do everything you want to do and instead of waking up early, you sleep in? or maybe you don't sleep in and you get up early anyway because you told your husband you wanted to learn to fish and he held you to it, so you spend the day wading in a river, scaring the trout one bad cast after next. the point is, you missed that short window of cool morning temperatures and have to wait until after the heat of the day to get your run in {which you're sort of dragging your feet about doing}.

that is when you load this playlist onto your ipod, put one foot in front of the other, and zone out. each song has the relaxed, easy sound of an early summer evening when the is sun sinking into the horizon. the bluesy riffs and lazy sounds of the slide guitar make me think of sitting on the porch and drinking something refreshing, like a juicy marg. this mix will take you there - a sort of mental "pre-game", if you will. it's the perfect way to cap off a self-indulgent weekend.

happy listening!

*yes, that is my handsome husband fly fishing with our son strapped to his chest pictured above. meanwhile, i almost got swept away by the current trying to capture the shot {he's got the skills and coordination i can only dream of}.*

spotify | mix 02
01. turn blue - black keys
02. street joy - white denim
03. things are changin' - gary clark jr
04. fool for you - alice smith
05. grass is greener - st paul & the broken bones
06. be mine - alabama shakes
07. keep your hands off her- the black keys
08. red house -jimi hendrix
09. broken bones & pocket change - st paul & the broken bones
10. cherrywine - hozier
11. outro -  gary clark jr
12. daisy -  stone temple pilots

music mix 01: keep your eyes ahead

this is the first of a series of running mixes i'm going to be sharing with you. if running is not your thing, that's ok. most of the music i run to gives me a feeling of forward movement so the playlists could easily work as soundtracks for a leisurely bike ride or a weekend drive - basically any situation where you have the wind in your face and can just cruise.

because most the miles i log are done outdoors, a lot of what i like to listen to is inspired by my surroundings. i tend to compile mixes based on a specific feeling or mood i get from the current season. this particular mix expresses the transition of seasons from end of winter to early spring. it's airy and bright, with a dreamy undertone. most of the songs begin a lot like early spring mornings: soft and cool, then warm into lively beats.

i've been listening to this mix for weeks, but since the weather's been so cool this year, it still totally fits my state of mind. the first song always makes me want to take a deep breath and let out a cathartic ahhhhh - it's a great way to start off a run. 

feel free to listen + enjoy via the links below.

spotify | mix 01
01. lights out, words gone - bombay bycicle club
02. nocturene - wild nothing
03. easy - real estate
04. origins - tennis
05. burning - the whitest boy alive
06. back seat - atlas genius
07. 505 - arctic monkeys
08. shadow - wild nothing
09. sweet disposition - the temper trap
10. keep your eyes ahead - the helio sequence
11. red eyes - the war on drugs
12. green aisles - real estate
13. i will sing you songs - my morning jacket

remembering boston

{photo}

for the past four years, i've rushed into work on patriot's day, excited to get to my desk so i could stream the boston marthon live on my computer. even before i ever ran my first 26.2, i felt a connection to the race, not only as an endurance runner but as the daughter of multiple time boston qualifier. it's is THE event in US marathoning and whether or not you've done the race yourself, i think most people can appreciate it's history and prestige.

when the bombs went off at the finish on boylston street just before 3pm last year, i had already shut the videostream down, but as the resident running guru at the office, i had people coming to me minutes after the news broke to ask if i had heard. "sure" i answered casually, "a kenyan [rita jeptoo] pretty handily dropped an etheopian [meseret hailu] in the final mile of the women's race, while a kenyan [micha kogo] and two entheopians [gebregziabher gebremariam and lelisa desisa] had an exciting sprint to the finish in the men's race." that was not the report they were asking about.

i heard cryptic bits - people trying piece together what had happened - an explosion at the finish line, people injured, no suspects. was it an act of terrorism? was it an isolated incident? who would do such a thing? my mind spun with thoughts. i was bursting at the seam with pregnancy and so far removed from the running world at that time, yet i felt the weight of the tragedy so presonally. the build up to a marathon is not just physical but emotional. for all those runners, the finish line meant so much more than a time and particpant's medal. how could why would anyone deny a person of acheiving such a innocent and noble pursuit? it's impossible to make sense of such a thing.

a year later, i go out for a run on a rainy april morning and i am grateful. ten months after the birth of my son, i am healthy and able to enjoy a sport that i love. somewhere deep in my soul though, i ache and i feel a heaviness in my legs. it's the weight of those three lives lost and the hundred's more injured. today, i remember them.

next monday, thousands will toe the line for this year's boston marathon and it makes me proud. i am amazed by our country's resiliance and all those brave runners are a symbol of that strength. that's why i loving running so much - it translates into all areas of life and helps us to realize what we are truely capable of. we are pretty incredible, aren't we? the ability of our bodies to heal, our hearts to mend, and our sprits to endure.

first post-baby race recap

that's me on the left and my twinner on the right

days later and i'm still gimping around from sunday's cherry blossom ten mile run. my time was nearly five minutes slower than my personal best and i almost dropped out halfway through, but man! it was great to race again.

when claudin called a couple of weeks ago to tell me that she had been accepted as an elite entrant for this year's running i was all, "yeay! that's awesome! go you!" but then she was like, "no, you've got to do it with me." and then i was like "mmm, yeahhhh... i don't know about that."

the cherry blossom ten miler is one of the biggest road races in the country and it was selected to host this year's US 10 mile championships, so in addition to the perennially strong international field, some of the nation's top distance runners would be in the mix. not only did i think that i had no business toeing the line with such high-caliber athletes, but when i planned my first race back from pregnancy, i had envisioned a more low-profile event. regardless, claudin urged me to contact the organizers to see if there were any more open spots. so i left the final decision to chance and in the hands of mr. race director. 

wouldn't you know it, i got in.

claudin arrived friday afternoon before the event and we spent saturday getting all the pre-race logistics in order. we checked in at hospitality suite, picked up our packets, ate the customary pasta dinner, and called it an early night. claudin was without her kids for the first time in years and andy was on baby-duty, so we nestled into bed and slept more soundly than either of had in months. as far as i was concerned, we were already winning.

the alarm went off at 4:30am on sunday morning and i wanted to hurl it at the wall (we're never using your ancient cell phone with it's devil ringer again, claudi). after lying a few minutes in bed until my heart rate returned to normal, i joined claudin in getting ready and twenty minutes later we were driving down the quite dark roads into DC.once on site, we dropped our things off and camped out in a tent that was designated for the invited athletes.

claudin and i warmed up around the national mall, while the day dawned around us. the sky was magnificently color-blocked with a soft orange on the horizon and a rich indigo overhead. the capital building sat against that stunning backdrop at one end of the mall and the washington monument was glowing in the light at the opposite end. everyone was pulling out their phones for pictures and once again, i cursed claudin's "dumb" phone for not having a camera. i don't know what made me more anxious: getting through the port-a-jon line before the race start or not being able to capture the photo.

the elite women were escorted to the line around 7:10am and we all took our final strides while the announcer introduced the field. when the bull horn sounded ten minutes later, i was running with this group of speedy women and heading towards memorial bridge like i hadn't missed the last year and a half of competing. the first mile of a race is always misleading. your body is fresh, pumping with adrenaline, and just steps ahead are some of the fastest women in the world. no big deal. for a minute you even think, hey! i might be in better shape, after all. this feels easy! but luckily, i wasn't *that* far removed from the sport so i knew to back off. claudin and i settled in at the back of a small pack of about six women who were running at our goal pace.

the next four miles went just as i hoped: claudin and i were running stride-for-stride at a comfortably hard pace, occasionally exchanging a few words of encouragement. as we approached mile five though, i sensed that while claudin was in cruise control, my foot was heavy on the gas trying to keep up. then, i started to feel a burn in my right quad/IT band. crap! we're not even half-way yet. it was too early for my body to be breaking down, so i knew that i was probably going too hard too soon. "go ahead, i don't want to hold you back" i told her. "no" she said and pointed to the ground at her side, indicating that i should get up next to her. i made the effort to catch up, but my wheels began smoking and the warning light came on. "if i don't back off now, i might not be able to finish" i told her and with that, claudin understood. she dropped me like i wasn't moving and left me alone in no-man's land.

we were entering haines point, an isolated peninsula where the only company was a bunch of demons hitchhiking on the side of the road. feeling lonely, i picked a few up, but those pesky hitchhikers were lousy companions. they kept talking about the pain in my quad and about how i haven't been training hard enough and how there were still five miles left to go. so after about a half mile of that nonsense, i decided that was about as far as i'd take them. without slowing down, i opened the door and kicked them out. when the next mile marker came up, i checked my watch and was surprised to see i was still on pace. if my body was holding on despite feeling so crappy, then the doubt was obviously all in my head.

i rallied my best survival tactics and coached myself into a more positive mind set. one thing that always works for me in these longer distances is breaking the race down into smaller parts - one mile is pretty easy to wrap your head around - so instead of thinking about the ten miles i had to cover, i focused on the one ahead. i looked for the runners in front of me and as it turned out,  i wasn't the only one hurting. there were a couple of women who had also fallen off the group. i set my my sights on their backs and gradually ran them down, one at a time. as i moved my way up, i noticed that there was just one woman between claudin and i.

with a mile left to go, i found myself on the heels of the next runner and less than 100 meters behind claudin. i passed the woman in front with ease but was nervous about her finishing kick, so to be safe, i pushed a little harder to create a buffer. despite my move, the distance between claudin and i remained the same. i lost sight of her around the final turn and instead noticed a particular couple on the sidelines that caught my eye: a handsome bearded man, holding an equally stunning little boy. "there's mama! go luci!"

it was with those two guys in mind (and the very real fact that if i didn't keep moving, my quads would shut down) that i bee-lined it to the finish and right through the line, like forrest gump running past the end zone. i clocked in at 1:01:06 and placed 39th. without ever stopping, i went straight to august and holding him my arms, paraded him around like i won top honors.

for the record:
+ my cellphone isn't any "smarter" than claudin's but the battery was dead that morning
+ claudin finished 20 seconds and one spot ahead of me. she's clearly at a new level since her 5th place finish at the marine corps marathon and i'm excited for her to run even faster in her next one!
+ there were two other new moms who put my performance to shame with how fast they blazed: sara slattery finished 14th in 54:14, while megan wright was 22nd in 56:51.  both have one-year-old boys.
+ my good friend and old high school teammate, chris sloane, also ran super fast and PRd by a minute.
+ after the race, claudin and i split a large pizza and each HOUSED a double concrete from the shake shack WHAT! (that one was for both of you, ne and nick mangum)
+  the cherry blossoms hadn't even budded but they're reported to be at their peak between april 8-12. but SHHHH don't tell anyone until after i've taken my pictures and left this coming saturday

which way did the clocks move?

last sunday's wake up call sounded to the thppppbth, bakabakabaka, thppppbth coming from the crib in the room next door. there is no "sleeping in" on the weekends when you have a baby. not unless your partner decides to take one for the team, leaving you the whole bed and an extra hour to snooze. that there is what you call a clutch performance and it was HUGE since daylight savings was saying it was six a.m. when it was actually only five. heroics like that make you want to do something really special for a person. you know, to show your profound gratitude. so around seven, i shuffled out of the bedroom, traded off with my husband and left him the whole house while it was still dark and quiet enough for to salvage some sleep.

i loaded the baby into the car and we headed to abuelita's house for the day. it's the same house i grew up in and the place my siblings and i now call "the family home". the drive is not that far - only a few towns over - but it feels like another world; another time. the visit was unplanned, so when i walked in - baby on left hip and tray of coffees in right hand - to an empty house, i was only mildly surprised. she must be at church. we passed the time exploring the ol' homestead. memories were ignited by each room: my dad's office, where the desk lamp burned late every night as he prepared work for the next day; my sister's bedroom, where the wall-to-wall bookshelves make an impressive private library and a good source for some classic children's books; the loft, where we flipped through family photos my mother keeps in a wooden chest; and my bedroom, where we played with the same stuffed animals that sat on the pillows when i was a kid. walking around the home where you lived your childhood with your OWN child is kind of mind-blowing.

when my mom came home she had bagels and more coffee, which we enjoyed while helping the baby discover his food's route from table to mouth (a tricky and silly adventure that has its own story for another time). he barely finished his banana, smashing the last chunk into his eye as he rubbed it with sleep. once he was down for his nap, i left him in my mom's care while i went out for a run. running on the c&o canal brings back such vivid memories of my father. it's like he's with me whenever i'm there. i got lost in my mind with thoughts about runs we did together that one summer after my freshman year in college. as i approached the turn-around point, i remembered how he'd come home after having run to that same spot, bragging about finishing "just an easy thirteen [miles]" and had stopped midway to watch the kayakers navigate the white waters below. when i was done, i sat and stretched in the same gravel parking lot where he and i had stretched after every run together. only i have *these* memories of him. they're mine. my brother and sisters have their own intimate memories of him; my mother has countless more. but those moments are for each of us to cherish - gifts from my dad.

it's funny how when everyone was springing forward, i spent the day slipping back.

what i think about when i run

1.6.14
treadmill run during lunch break
i lost my keys at work on friday and found them in the trash can under my desk three hours later. i spent the entire run trying to figure out how that happened since i have NO memory of doing it. all i could come up with was this vision myself in a work-induced daze: i finish eating lunch, wipe my hands, crumple up the napkin, and SLAM DUNK the keys into the trash can. 

1.7.14
break of dawn on the coldest day in 20 years
the temperature was in the singles digits, but the wind chill made it feel arctic. i was wearing two of every thing and had all of my body covered up except for my face. i don't think there is a weirder feeling than congealed mucus - i tried to come up with a list but nothing could top frozen boogers.

1.8.14
treadmill run after work on the second coldest day in years

i know that we’ll be safe and sound. beep-boo-be-be-be-be-boo-bee-be-boo-beep (safe and sound)

beep-boo-be-be-be-be-boo-bee-be-boo-beep we’ll safe and sound

the first song that played on the gym radio station was that capital cities' song and maybe it was because i was running inside and facing a window that looked out on all the people freezing outside, but it got stuck in my head for the duration of my workout. which wasn't at all annoying.

1.9.14

morning run

avocados. a_vo_ca_dos. avoCAdos.
of all the food my son has tried so far, i think they are his favorite. i need to pick some up from the store to mash up for his dinner tonight. since i can't run with a note pad and pen, i do this all the time (recite the grocery list in my head, over and over again).

1.10.14

on the treadmill again during lunch

nothing funny about today's run. i challenged myself to a quicker pace and had to focus on staying relaxed. my shoulders kept inching up to my ears until i'd wag my finger at them and say "ah, ah, ah. you get back down!"

1.11.14

a quiet grey morning

today i quite literally ran with my head in the clouds. my route was quilted with patches of fog and each time i ran through one of the hazes, i thought of when i was a little girl and wished of living on a cloud - childhood dream realized.

1.12.14
sunshine! squinted and hissed when it first touched my skin  
we have two very worn pillows sitting on our couch that have been on my project list. since i had a double shot of espresso and nothing on the schedule, my mind was buzzing with ideas. i planned out my CRAFTernoon with spastic enthusiasm.

what sort of odd things do you think about when you workout? leave a comment below - i'm curious and would love to know that i'm not the only flake who has such random thoughts. 

winter running

it was one of my favorite kinds of runs: the winter landscape was still blanketed in snow but the air temperature was warm enough to melt whatever hadn't already been cleared from the roads and sidewalks. the contrasting temperatures brought out a thick fog that beckoned me into it's void and it suited the dreamy morning very well. i had the unusual luxury of a couple hours alone to move at my own pace, so i enjoyed my morning coffee before setting out into the grey. once en route, my thoughts coordinated with my movements along the road, whimsically jumping around with impressive agility. if the conditions had better matched their surroundings, it could have been the perfect run, but avoiding icy patches and dodging on-coming traffic made for a bit more stress than what is ideal.

winter running is a tricky thing. there's not much to consider if you've got a treadmill at home or membership to a fancy gym - on blustery days, they are probably the safest options. i'm not generally a fan of treadmill running (it can be like a form of torture to me), but i'm not a total purist and will bite the bullet if the conditions are bad enough. it's not the most romantic setting for a run, but if you want to get it done, you need to embrace your inner hampster. that said, i'm still pretty stubborn about running indoors so i will gladly set out in most weather... so. long. as. i'm. prepared. with the arctic blast that's due to hit pretty much the entire country, i thought it might be helpful to share some cold-weather running tips for the week ahead:

dress the part
running in pretty much any condition is really not that bad if you're prepared. rain, snow, heat, cold are all manageable with the right gear. when it comes to winter running, layers are essential. you can always take off, but once you're out you can't magically produce another layer. jackets are good because if you get warm a mile in, you can easily unzip and tie that bad boy around your waist. i like ear warmers better than hats  because things on my head feel weird, so if the band is bothering me, i'll pull it down around my neck and then BAM i've got a neck warmer. i prefer mittens to gloves because my fingers stay warmer when they're all nestled next to each other, sharing the heat. a lot of base layers made these days are long in the arms with thumb holes at the end - that extra bit of fabric is nice on the hands. running in the cold can put quite a load on your heart because it has to work double-time to exert your body and keep the internal temperature warm, so help that little organ out and dress warm.

be visible
run when it's light out and wear bright colors. there's a reason stop signs are red and traffic signals have yellow and green. you might be able to see the on-coming hunk of steel and it's headlights, but the driver that's texting behind the wheel might not see you. neon limbs flailing about? maybe. so think like a seven year old girl and dress with the most vibrant clothes you've got. did you're mom buy you a reflective vest when you were a freshman on the high school cross country team? well mine did and you can bet she made me wear it a couple of times. i was the cool kid at school.

stick to sidewalks and paths
the shoulder disappears under nasty grey snow in the winter. if you have to run on the road, get as far left as possible and face traffic. where i live the drivers don't share the roads well with pedestrians or cyclists. when you do encounter a courteous driver that swings wide or slows down for you, give them a smile and a wave. kindness is contagious and maybe they'll tell their friends. (we'll make a change doggonit, one aggressive and angry driver at a time.)
go slow
muscles are cold enough when they've been idle and freezing temperatures only make them tighter so warm up slowly into your run - you don't want to pull anything. another reason to take it easy on the pace is so that you can watch for ice or uneven footing. slippery spots can sneak up on you and a whole lot more than your ego can be bruised if you bite it hard on asphalt. oh and don't forget those traffic signs: BRIDGE ICES BEFORE ROAD.

stretch
you probably won't notice right away, but you use all kinds of muscles that aren't normally used when you run in wintery conditions. all the lateral hopping to avoid puddles and ice will make your IT band, tibialis anterior, and a whole bunch of other stabilizing muscles sore. if you caught a slick spot during your run, chances are that the cat-like reflexes which prevented you from falling used every muscle in your torso (back and abs) to keep you upright. all that twisting is going to make you sore so do a good ten minute stretch and cover all muscles groups, just in case. if you don't, you'll likely feel it the next day.

get out of your wet clothes ASAP
dawdling about the house in damp, sweaty clothes is a great way to get sick or catch hypothermia. take that stinky ish off and hop in the shower!

drink lots of water.
even though you may not sweat as much when it's cold you still need to hydrate. the air is very dry in the winter and i can just imagine the millions of little pores that cover out body desperately agape, begging for water. drink up!  while you're at it, heat some in a kettle and drop a slice of lemon in - it's tasty and it'll warm you up , from the inside out.

that is all. happy and safe running, friends!

Marine Corps Marathon

a poster of this picture hung framed in our basement for years. it was risky business, hanging such a big print on the wall of a room that was devoted to "horsing around", so it was only a matter of time until a fractured web took residence on the lower corner of the glass. we all denied doing it, of course. if it was me, i effectively blocked it out of my memory and destroyed all the evidence. my parents never replaced the glass probably from a lack of time. (i have ONE child and still have two coats sitting in the back of my car from last spring's cleaning that need to be dropped off at the dry-cleaners.) but looking at this image now, i still see that web in the corner - though it's more appropriate now that nearly twenty years have passed.

i was five years old in 1986 when my dad ran his first marine corps marathon. we were all waiting for him at the finish, amid hundreds of other supportive families waiting to reunite with their own phidippidean heroes. he gave me a big hug that crinkled with the mylar blanket wrapped around his shoulders and i recognized the sweet familiar ammonia scented sweat of his efforts. i never actually saw him run; just the salt crystallized in the creases of his face and a play-by-play of each mile. through his stories, i had run a marathon in my mind dozens of times. the marine corps marathon is called the people's marathon but i call it papi's marathon. oh, he ran other marathons - even qualified for boston a handful of times - but this race was the. one. it struck close to home (literally). not only did we live only some twenty miles up the potomac from the finish at the iwo jima memorial, but he was a marine. and he was hard core. so there you go.

look at him, he hasn't aged a bit. that's how he lives in my mind. a picture of health. there is even a hint of a smile on his face. would that I could produce such images while running - i always unfortunately get caught with shoulders slumped, mouth agape and jowls pulled to the earth by gravity.  it was this photograph of my father that inspired me to run a marathon. (that, and the unspoken obligation of being a runner with a father who ran marathons.) in any case, it was this image that ran alongside me as i trained for my first attempt at the distance. look at him, like the american dream personified: work hard and you can achieve any goal you set forth. even the photographer strategically composed his shot with the nation's capital in the backdrop. you can practically hear bruce springstein chanting born in the USA

when i started running back in high school, people used to ask when i would run a marathon. my answer then was at 25. it seemed like a good, round number and far enough away to put off. i was determined to do one though. it was the first thing i ever put on my "bucket list". i dreamed of running my first marathon with my dad and my twin sister: the three runners of the family. had i stuck with the commitment, it could've happened, but i put it off until 30 and by then our window had closed. he's five years gone now and i've got a baby boy who's blue eyes can only have come from his grandfather. now it's my sister's time. when she felt the draw to run her first consecutive 26.2 our dad's milestone anniversary called for one option only: run the marine corps. it'd be nice do it with her, but some things you need to do on your own. anyway, i suspect that she won't be alone; the wind be at her back, with papi pushing her along.

the marathon harvest season

the last six months i've been coaching my sister for her first marathon and now she only has four days to go. she's been tapering the last two weeks and has impressed me with her calm but now she's close enough to feel the heat of the fire and she's starting to sweat. i had to calm her down today when all the pent up anxiety started pushing against the fences of her mind.

for the past couple of weekends, thousands have gathered and crossed their respective finish lines. over the several following weekends, thousands more will do the same. if you're in that first group then congrats. it was thrilling, wasn't it? i have no wisdom to impart that you haven't already experienced or figured out. if you're part of the second lot then you too are somewhere in the taper zone and entering that final stage. there's still time to salvage your sanity.

the taper is an essential part of marathon training and there are dozens of theories on how and when to do it. i'm not going to get into it because each person is unique and what worked for me may not work for you. plus, i'm not going to pretend that having run a few marathons makes me some kind of expert - even those who coach or run them for living will admit there's no secret sauce. that's the nature of the beast. what I will offer are some words of advice on the psychology of the taper. and since running a marathon is eighty percent mental, these aren't just pearls, they're precious gems.

as you may have noticed, i like to speak in metaphors - i'm the mr. miyagi of running, dear grasshoppers. i like to paint pictures with my words. but i also like to be allusive. some things are best figured out and i think you're smart. (don't worry, my analogies are not very complex. i'm not that clever.) so allow me to share my very basic farming knowledge because the season is right and well, i love the fall. so yeah, the harvest.

the harvest marks the end of the growing season. soon after the last frost, the land is prepared; tilling the soil and removing weeds. this early phase is tedious but necessary. the ground needs thawing from the sleepy winter and your legs need turning over. it becomes rote at a point and you don't think of it much. like eating or breathing, getting out for a run becomes habitual. once the field is cleared, the land needs enrichment so, the soil is fertilized with various nutrients: hill repeats, tempos runs, fartleks, and speed intervals. the seeds are sown. with time and dutiful irrigation, they begin to germinate and grow.

now let's pretend it's a small tract and we're farming in the 1800's because i'm a romantic at heart and we're doing this by hand. no heavy machinery. so we gather up our tools: sickle, pitchfork, sack, and wide brimmed hat - always a wide brimmed hat (you've got to dress the part) - and march onto the field. at some point, you'll need each of those tools. some of them are sharp, so let's call them weapons. there are demons in those fields and they'll try to scare you away from your task. don't listen. pull out that hand scythe and swipe them away. it's hard labor, you'll get exhausted, you're muscle will burn with fatigue but you need to do it. the yield will nourish you throughout the winter. food for the soul. so you forge on, raking up the crops you have felled. At the end of the day, your sack is full and crates are heaping. no matter how long it took, how efficient you were, or how good you looked doing it, you did it.

and that's how i handle the taper. i recount all the work i put in, inventory my tools, and i visualize my success. you've done all the work. the hay is in the barn. after months of tending to your plot, the crop matured and now the time has finally come to harrow the field. you've prepared the land, you've sharpened your tools, now is the time to reap. if that doesn't have your adrenaline pumping, then we are at odds because i'm not even racing and my stomach just did a flip.

Yoga for Runners

I woke up stiff this morning with an Achilles tendon that could snap if tempted by quirkiest of steps. As I gingerly tip-toed around the house, biding my time until the muscles loosened and my body woke up, I thought about taking my own advice. If yesterday's post also struck a nerve for you (and if that nerve is of the pesky sciatic kind because you're back at work and have been sitting at a desk all day so now that nerve is compressed and shooting pain down from your lower back to your feet) then you need to get to stretching. Maybe your ache is not that specific and it's just a general soreness you're feeling, or perhaps you've got this chronic nag that just won't quit. Well, in any and all cases, you need to keep those limbs nimble.

Now, you can do the classic (static) gym class stretches which you may fondly remember as: hurdler stretch, butterfly, quad stretch, etc. These, like all classics, are timeless and can be very beneficial. But only IF your muscles are properly warmed up first. Otherwise, dynamic stretching (in which you use momentum to propel your muscles into an extended range of motion) is a safer bet.

A while back, when I was sidelined with an injury, I reluctantly took up yoga. I've got an extended post coming on how that happened and how my relationship with the discipline has since evolved, but suffice it to say, we're committed now - I heart yoga. It's the perfect complement to running and guess what? If you "flow" from one pose to the next, it's a glorified dynamic stretching routine in disguise.

Without getting too carried away, I'm just going to take you through a series of my favorite asanas. They flow well into each other and usually hit all my trouble areas. Take two deep breaths in each position before moving into the next and be sure to switch sides once you've gone through the whole sequence. When all is said and done, you're looking at a good five minutes of "stretching". Do a couple sets or take a few more deep, belly breaths in each position, to make it longer or if you're feeling especially Frankenstein-like. I'm no guru and my practice is far from perfect but I've cherry-picked the poses that suit me best as a runner and you can do the same. I highly encourage you to start incorporating it into your routine. You may not be doing back bends or twisty contortions anytime soon, but you just may be able to reach your toes. And that would be a miracle, at least in my case.

Downward dog>High lunge>Low warrior>High lunge>Downward dog>High lunge>Warrior I>Warrior II>Reverse Warrior>Warrior II>Modified side angle>Triangle>Mountain Pose

The Marathon

We're approaching marathon season and for those of you who are taking on the challenge of either the full or half this fall, you're probably in the "meat and potatoes" of your training. If you're like I was during this point in the build up, you're probably feeling a bit tired. Maybe your stride resembles the shuffle of an old man? And perhaps that geriatric gait is echoed by a grumpy demeanor? Good. You're training for a marathon and need to get used to the feeling of running tired. You will, after all, be covering 26.2 miles in one day. And spectators will be expecting you to finish, looking dewy and composed while sprinting across the line. So how do you maintain that putative "runner's high" all the way to the illustrious finish line? Therein lies the challenge of marathon training. It is a delicate balance between running more than you ever have and being overtrained. And now is the time when you really need to pay close attention to all the little things because this is when you are most vulnerable to injury or burnout. 

Just to be clear, overtraining is when the volume and intensity of your training exceeds your recovery. Now, most people think of recovery just in terms rest, but that's only one component. What many do not realize is that recovery also involves nutrition, dietary supplements, massage, physical therapy, and maybe even scaling back for a few days. The classic analogy is to compare your body to a car - to ensure that the engine runs smoothly, you need put the best fuel in it. What drives the machine though, is more than just the gas. Now is the time to go in for a check up. Wheels need rotating? Get a new pair of trainers. Fluid needs replacing? Schedule a massage to get the blood circulating and lactic acid build up out of your legs. Alignment needs checking? Visit a chiropractor for an adjustment. All these factors can contribute to your physical performance. If all this sounds a bit excessive or too luxurious for your ambitions, that's OK. I can't afford weekly massages either. Instead, use a foam roller to work out knots in your legs. Or buy a carton of Epsom salts at CVS for five bucks to soak in a couple of nights of the weeks. You can also or swap an easy run day for a restorative series of yoga poses (YouTube has all kinds of blissed-out videos to follow but, my personal favorite is: Yoga with Adriene). And making the drive to a park where you can run on some soft, dirt trails can do wonders for your asphalt-pounded muscles, as well. 

Overtraining can also have effects on non-physical factors of an endurance runner, such as their emotions and behavior. People are funny when they are depleted. We get very primal when our basic needs are neglected; reason and emotional control go out the window and we revert to our childlike selves, fussy and grouchy. If you've been getting called out on your attitude or sass, you may be on the verge of over doing it. Aside from the very real and goal-crushing possibility of getting injured, you could lose motivation, which is almost as bad. So please, for the sake of your loved ones, take care of those ancillary details and remember that your friends and family are innocent supporters. Go easy on them.

Finally, I'll address the psychology of long distance running because, you know, "mind over matter" and what not. See, when your body wants to quit, it's your mind that will keep you going. That means you have between now and race day to convince yourself that you're the bomb.  It's important to trust your capabilities, so if you have any doubts now, start working on that confidence. Entrap each mile logged and every work out done, in your mind and use those thoughts on race day to make you explosive. Then, when the crowd cheers for you, shouting words of encouragement about what a "great job" you're doing and how you should "keep it up", you will believe them. When I was preparing for my first marathon, I read a ton of other people's race recaps. Their stories were inspiring and helped me to stay focused on my goals. Imagery is a powerful thing and if you can envision yourself in an other's success story then, on race day you might make your own. (The key is to read about the positive experiences, so go ahead and click that little 'x' in the corner of that tale depicting a grueling death march.)

All of this is mostly to say I'm thinking about you all and hoping for the best. What else is a post-preggo mama to do but live vicariously through other runners until she's ready for her comeback? I'm no expert and maybe you already know all of this, but next time when I'm in the thick of it, I'll be sure to come back to this post. Just a friendly reminder, is all. Oh, and as my mothers always says, "Don't forget to have fun."

For extra motivation, click on this image to see a video of my finish at the 2011 Twin Cities Marathon. A recap with all the exciting details will be posted soon.

Spoiler Alert!

You know the last scene in The Usual Suspects when Kevin Spacey limps out of the police station as the crippled con man, Verbal Kint? He carefully crosses the sidewalk, avoiding people as best as he can, but fumbles through the crowd and hobbles in the same pitiful and awkward manner we've sympathized with throughout the entire movie. Then the camera takes a low angle at the feet of dozens of people; Verbal's feet emerge from the crowd dragging along the curb when suddenly, the right foot seems to relax a little. You think it's a trick of the eye. Is his stride changing? Then the inward angle straightens itself out ever so slightly.  As the camera stays on his feet you continue to see his gait morph. In a few paces the limp ceases and before you know it, he's got a smooth, regular stride. The camera pans up his body which is now moving with surprising grace and coordination - a swagger, even - revealing that he is actually the villain, Kaiser Soze.

That's how I felt on my run today.

It's been over ten months since I've felt "normal" running. I took nearly the first five months of pregnancy off due to "growing pains". See, I was afflicted with what's known as round ligament pain - a common complaint during pregnancy, but one that had me calling the wambulance at the top of my lungs. Waaa! Waaa! Waaaaaaaaa! These pesky round ligaments surround a woman's uterus and attach to her pelvis. In the early months of pregnancy they can cause discomfort in a woman's groin as they stretch and thicken to accommodate and support her growing womb. They feel like a dull ache in the low abdomen and kind of follow the bikini line on a very high-cut, 80's-style bathing suit (think Baywatch). Anyway, they were bad enough that I couldn't make it more than five minutes on a run before having to stop. And this is me, people. I don't walk on runs. For once in my life, I was smart though and listened to my body. I got off land and into the swimming pool, which turned out to be a great substitute (and no, I will not be attempting triathlons anytime soon). By the time I felt good enough to run again though, I was over halfway through my pregnancy and had a significant "bump". I didn't have all those months to get used to and adjust with my growing belly. So, when I went on my first run, it was like I had donned a 20-pound weight vest and was carrying a bowling ball in my middle that was throwing my center of gravity off. There's a natural shuffle to my stride which, when coupled with the "pregnancy waddled", made for an awkward running form, to say the least. I'm sure that when people saw me and my belly lumbering along, they held their breaths hoping against a face plant. Not to worry, I ran on very flat and very soft terrains so that if ever did bite it, I'd have a soft-ish landing.

I'd lose myself during those pregnant runs, dreaming about how after my baby was born, a switch would flip and I'd be running with the elegance of an Arabian horse. My belly would be gone and I'd be a couple dozen pounds lighter but my muscles would be stronger from carrying around that extra weight; the excess oxygen flowing in my veins (thanks to increased blood volume) would be nature's alternative to blood-doping; and that relaxin hormone, which had made my joints all loosy-goosy, would now offer the kind of flexibility and range of motion I haven't had since I was August's age. I envisioned myself floating on the path with an easy cadence and the envy of every "weekend warrior". Wrong. Returning to running post-baby hasn't been remotely like those visions. Instead it feels like what I imagine moon-walking might be like: the clunky astronaut boots making it impossible to raise your feet higher than an inch, despite feeling the weightlessness from the absence of gravity. My once strong and supportive core now makes no attempt to keep my hips in line, letting my disobedient legs flail recklessly on the cement. To add insult to injury, the stretched out fascia around my middle shakes with each step, rippling through each layer of skin, resulting in jiggle-itch. So much for wishful thinking.

I know better. Nothing worth having comes easy. First my body needed to heal, then it required rehabilitation, and then with time, it'll get back to it's former glory. I've taken it easy: done a lot of walking, a bit of yoga-ing, and some strengthening/toning. But for all my motivation, there's so much lacking. Consistency, for one. It's hard when all you want to do between feedings is veg out. Forget "keeping up", I'm just try to catch up with those darn Kardashians. One day I'll find the energy to bust out a few minutes of core work and plank, the next day I'm eating a tin of chocolate-covered almonds, commiserating with Kim as her swollen, pregnant feet get the best of her. Then I'll look over at my little sleeping starfish and think how both he and his daddy would just shake their heads in shame if they saw me in such a state. That's when I pick myself up and snap out of it. I'll get back on track for a day or two, then slip again. Hey, at least it's TWO steps forward, ONE step back. I am advancing.

I caught glimpse of that progress today. The run began inauspiciously enough and much in the same way as most runs these days: ungainly and slow. I used the momentum of a downhill start to get going at a pace just slightly above a fast walk. After a minute or two, I settled into a comfortable trot and concentrated my gaze on the sidewalk just ahead of my feet, careful not to get tripped up on any weather-raised sections. A mile later inertia kick in and I zoned out, just enjoying the fresh air and movement. All of a sudden I felt more natural, like my old self. I may even have fooled a few people as I passed with the fluidity of a seasoned pro. It was short lived - I was only able to keep pace for about a mile (which is a far cry from the 8+ mile runs I used to easily knock out) - but for the first time in months I had it. Like Spacey's character, I made the transformation (however briefly) from gimpy con artist to cocky bad-ass. I'm not delusional, there's a long way to go before I'm kicking ass and taking names, but there's hope. In the mean time, I'm waiting on a call from Hollywood. This is method acting at its best, people.

Apples and oranges are still both fruit

A reader recently asked me to address the common comparison between childbirth and running a marathon now that I have done both. Well, off the bat, I can say it's a fair analogy. Both events require preparation, endurance, and optimism. And having been a runner almost all my life, the parallels were instinctual.  So I approached labor the only way I knew how: treating the nine months of pregnancy much as I would a marathon build up. Training for baby is what I called it.

The concept was particularly fitting to a person like me because I am inquisitive and assiduous by nature. I thought that if I educate myself,  "train" mentally and physically, it won't make birth any less painful, but at least, I will have done everything in my power to prepare for it. Like a diligent student, I completed each day's homework and built upon the small, yet incremental growth from the previous trimester. Like any life endeavor, it's a cumulative effort. 

I also appreciate the importance of training the mind in addition to the body. They work so cooperatively together, I'd be remiss to neglect one or the other. I knew then, that it was important to maintain a positive attitude. Like with the marathon, pregnant women encounter so much negativity and fear. Movies only ever show us woman screaming in pain, grabbing their husband's by the collar, reviling, "You did this to me!" in accusation. If we were as pessimistic about marathon running as we are about childbirth, we'd see a lot more DNFs in race results. How can you hope to do a thing if your already doubting its success before you've started?

Now, I'm not saying that trepidation is a sure route to failure. In fact, when I stood at the starting line of my first marathon, I knew it was going to be hard work and that it even might hurt. But that's a lot to bite off before twenty-six-point-two miles. So the best thing to do is just take it one step at a time. Same thing with pregnancy. You can't expect take those nine months in all at once and not be overwhelmed. Instead, you take it one day at a time because what you feel one day may be completely different the next.  

What makes the two ventures equally amazing in this is that because your body is undergoing such a drastic transformation, it communicates to you better than any other time in your life. Senses are heightened. Now whether or not you listen  to what it says is another challenge.

Of course the two are not identical and at a certain point, the analogy breaks. In all honesty though, that didn't happen until the actual moment my baby made his entrance to the world. I'm not going to sugar-coat that one. It was a whole new level of hurt. But you somehow dig deep to go beyond it. And more incredible still, is that you almost immediately forget the pain.

To me, labor was the epitome of running a marathon - every contraction was like a hill that burned on the way up but once crested, I had the other side to recover. And each "hill" brought me one step closer to my goal: my baby boy out of my belly and into my arms. Although I was exhausted and aching when I crossed the finish, it was the sweetest and most thing precious thing.


For those of you that have done both, what are your thoughts? Did having the experience in one help you in achieving the other?

Let me count the ways

Remember when I mentioned that my love for running stems from all the things it has brought in my life? Well, grab a cup of coffee and find a comfy seat (or if you're like me and up at ungodly hours nursing a newborn, bust out your iPad and balance it awkwardly on your lap, cradling baby with one arm and finger-scrolling with the other hand). Wherever you find your reading spot and whatever beverage you choose to imbibe, get cozy because here's that story. 

Running and I go way back. Back before I was conscious of it. You know, when it wasn't about training yet and all it served me for was as a means to get to the other side as quick as possible without getting caught in Red Rover, Red Rover. Sadly, I was not that naturally gifted speedster that always won the game. I was slightly above average, if we're being honest here, but nothing indicated that I was destined for greatness. That was more apparent for my twin sister. 

In middle school, part of the end-of-year Phys Ed evaluation included a timed mile. Each class would toe the line, boys and girls together, and make their laps around the perimeter of the playing fields. To me, it was just another assignment. I wasn't remotely interested in competition, I just wanted to get it done within the time limit to get the credit. My sister, on the other hand, was what we call a "fireball". She had PE at different period so we weren't in the same class and while I ran/walked the mile with a couple of friends, casually bringing in the rear in just under nine minutes, she was throwing elbows and out-sprinting the boys for top honors. I was so proud when the list went up a week later: Top 10 boys and girls in the school - my sister ranked third. 

Over that summer, before entering high school, my sister received a letter in the mail inviting her to join the Cross Country team. We didn't even know what Cross Country was but it was sent from and signed by the coach. Her first recruiting letter. Reluctantly, I agreed to go to the first day of practice with her, for company. We showed up that day in cut-off jorts, over sized Champion tees and Adidas Gazelles. I remember my coach staring right at us during Orientation, advising those of us who were there to take it seriously to invest in a pair of "running shoes". Mortification. I felt all eyes burn holes in my skin as the group followed his stare. Needless to say, I was clueless.

I should have been more savvy. My dad ran marathons. I had even been there at the finish of a couple of them. But all those 26 miles before the final glorious .2 I witnessed were non-existent to me. As were the early morning training runs before work (probably while I was sitting on the bus to school). And the fact that he himself had been a member of the Cross Country team when he was in high school. Amazingly all that history wouldn't be revealed to me until years after I entered the sport. 

Anyway, when we signed up for the team that summer leading into the 9th grade, my dad took us out for our first run. "Just one mile"' he promised. But twenty minutes in, with no finish in sight, we were on to him. "Where's the mile?" I whined. "We passed it almost two miles ago" he chortled with delight. Yeah, hardy-har-har, Daddy-o. What I really wanted to do was push him right into the the canal we were running along side. With just minutes to go until we were back where we started, he pointed out the finish and challenged us to "kick it in". Pissed as I was for his misleading us, I had just the drive to shift into that gear and sprint to the end... getting SMOKED by my sister, of course. 

That was the foundation for a life long passion: a hint of a natural gift, combined with the challenge of doing a thing, and the pride of proving to yourself that you can, topped off with a bond shared between me, my sister, and our father. Next went up the framework: camaraderie, friendships, community. Then, the walls: commitment, determination, perseverance. And finally the roof: accomplishment, success, personal bests. The end result is a beautiful house and inside a safe, familiar home. You can leave it - go away for a while - but it's always nice to come back and you never want to stay away long. It's so much more than a verb and that's why it's kinda amazing.

Oh, and I never would've met this man here - the father of my son - if it hadn't been for running. So yeah, I owe it all my devotion.

Once a Runner

I've been running for more than half my life and for just about that long, it's how I've identified myself. Ignore that I'm an identical-looking-but-actually-fraternal-twin. Forget that I'm half Bolivian and speak fluent Spanish (thanks to my mother). I won't even mention that I enjoy just about all forms of art: drawing, painting, writing, poetry, photography... Or that I studied business with the hopes of one day having my own. And I'm - for some reason - embarrassed to tell people my hobbies of sewing, scrap booking, card making, cooking, and just about anything handmade (maybe I'm paranoid of the judgement. Maybe they're too trendy/girly/CRAFT-y). But until a couple of years ago, if you asked me what I did, I'd answer "I'm a runner".

True story: when I was in college, my sister, roommate, and I all went out one weekend for late-night pizza by the slice.  It was was a big deal for us - three DI college athletes - to be out past midnight, eating junk food. A couple of guys come sit down at a table next to ours and one asks "Are you guys part of the Bar Crawl?" (our rebellious night out coincided with the annual event when people walk from bar to bar). "No", I replied and then proudly revealed "We're part of the Cross Country team!" Blank stare. "We just got back from Nationals..." I boast. Nothing. I think he pretty much slowly backed away, got up, and left. I got endless years of  crap for that one.

It goes without saying that I was proud of my running. And it was kind of merited. I saw pretty early success in high school which allowed me the opportunity to continue with the sport in college. Then, after graduating I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to continue training on an semi-elite level. I worked with some really great coaches and earned a few respectable finishes at national competitions. I even made a couple of world teams and got to represent the US at international events. But there's a HUGE disparity between national elite and world class. And in our sport, if you're not world class, what's the point. You can't make a living grabbing cash prizes here and there at local road races. For the record, that is NOT why I ran. But most decorated college athletes graduate with stars in their eyes. Young and ambitious, we think we've got nothing but time and the untapped talent to become the next big Olympian.

I tried at it for a while - three years, actually. In retrospect, I'm not sure I gave it a fair shot. Not in terms of time but ef fort. It's HARD work and admittedly, I was scared. It takes a special kind of focus to put everything into one thing. I didn't acknowledge it at the time, but I wasn't truly willing to do that. Long story short, I finally came to the realization that everything else in my life had been on hold far too long. It was time to move on.

Reluctantly  I let go though, because if I wasn't a runner, then what was I? Would my family and friends be able to separate me from my running after so many years of association? Could I assign myself another characteristic? For a while, when I was in transition, I felt lost. Then one day it occurred to me: there's so much more to me. Challenging Aristotle's synergistic philosophy, I say the sum of our parts makes our whole a lot greater.

I'm not abandoning running. I love it. I'm still very devoted to it. It brought so much to my life - but that's another story for another time. Instead, I embrace everything else that makes me Me. I am a Libra, after all, so it's about time I found balance. Enriching my life with various interests make me a happier and in that way, a more successful person.