Just One More Day....or Four

This week is the last big push before it is taper time, and I must say that I absolutely cannot WAIT for taper time. Usually, I do not want to taper and I have a hard time getting myself to completely do it. But this time…oh this time…I am so ready.

The alarm went off again at 4:30 this morning. I hit the snooze button as many times as I thought safe, while dreaming I’d already gotten up between snoozes. I eventually hauled my tired limbs out of bed and walked over to my dresser, where I had laid out my running clothes the night before. My sleepy mantra was “one more day, one more day, just one more day” as I got dressed, put on my cap, kissed my sleeping husband and headed out.

I drove 25 minutes to meet Kristi and Chris and we ran 8 miles over Cecil Ashburn and back. While the run itself was fine and I enjoyed the views of the city and skyline from up there, I felt sleepy and heavy on the drive to and from the run. I wondered how I would make it through this day. Following work, I have class from 5:30-8:30 and I knew by then I would be zonked.

Still, I repeated my mantra. Monday through Wednesday I have evening activities which make my day longer than I would sometimes like it to be. So when the alarm goes off in the 4:00 hour, I don’t mind running, but I know I may pay for it later. Most Thursdays I do run, but I sometimes have the option to do it in the afternoon instead of early in the morning. (Although for the last few weeks, I have found things to fill up that night as well.) So the “one more day” mantra was more for schedule than mileage. For mileage the mantra is “one more week” which is actually no longer correct but sounds better than “4 more days.”

So, I am tired. A lot. I love what I do, but I also recognize that other things may suffer because of it. I want to crawl under my desk at 2:00 p.m. and sleep. I want it so badly, I almost do it. I am hungry all the time. I feel like I bring enough lunch for the hockey team, and yet I have still lost weight. I don’t feel like going to class on Wednesday nights, I don’t feel like dressing up for work or fixing my hair (which I do anyway, but sometimes…well…I look a little thrown together to put it nicely), and I fall asleep on the couch as soon as I sit down. Thankfully, Jason understands all of this and knows it is only for a time, so he has never complained about any of it.

As for me, I want running to enhance my life, not make things harder.  But for now, despite the weariness I feel and the longing for a huge breakfast of pancakes, bacon and eggs followed by a 3 hour nap, I press on and repeat my mantra. “One more week, one more week, just one more week.”

If all goes as planned, I will complete my third consecutive 60 mile week. I have never done this before – or anything remotely close to it. I feel good about it, and my confidence increases as I think about my approaching 50 mile race.

When race day finally arrives, I will step up to the start line in the early morning darkness and know I have worked hard for this moment. When I cross the finish line, I will know it was all worth it. And then I will have Jason drive me directly to Cracker Barrel.

Reminders and Rainy Day Running

Jason returns today, after having been gone a little over a week, and I could not be more glad.  I have turned into such a ...what would you call it?  A sap? (Dad used to call me that if I ever moped about a boy.)  I lived alone for 7 years, loving almost every single minute of it and now, after 3 years of marriage, I do not like coming home to an empty house after class or going to church alone on Sunday or having to rely on phone conversations as my only means of communication with Jason.

So, I have filled my week as usual.  With running in the mornings, work during the day and No Boundaries or class in the evenings.  My mom came and spent two nights with me and that was fun.  The other evenings I tried to savor things I would not normally do when Jason is here, such as eating pb&j sandwiches every night and sitting on the couch until bedtime watching the latest Hallmark movie.  I also spent the weekend in Fayetteville, and had a wonderful time hanging with Mom and Dad in paradise (aka their land). 

As I had planned to do, I went with Mom at 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning to her boot camp workout.  Because it was raining, the workout was held in the gym of Riverside Christian Academy where she works as part-time counselor.  The guy leading the workout was Adam and he also works at the school.  There is usually a bigger group, but this morning it was just Mom, and three other guys plus Adam.

Jason had cautioned me when I told him of this plan to be careful, and he was right in doing so.  I have not been cross-training as much as I would like and certainly not enough to keep up with a boot camp workout.  With the sore knee and back I'd been battling, I knew I needed to sit out several of the activities.  I did help Adam coach Mom, however, and that was fun.  "Come on, Mom, push harder."  "Pick up your knees."  "Are you slowing down?"  "That was not 100%!"  It felt like some sort of payback. 

During the workout, I kept checking the weather outside, but the rain continued.  This concerned me.  I needed 12.5 miles to get in my 60 for the week, and I was determined I was getting those miles.  I returned to the gym and joined the group for their last activities.  It was a blast and I spent as much time laughing at myself as I did working out.

At the end of the workout, Adam said a prayer, as he always does.  In his prayer he thanked God for allowing us to work our bodies and improve our fitness, but he also asked God to help us remember that our spiritual health was even more important.  His words hit me like a punch in the gut.  It caused me to stop and consider what my focus had been the past several weeks and I knew without a doubt, it had been on my physical fitness alone.  Sure, I talk to God, but usually about the things I want from Him.  I don't sit quietly and open myself up for what He might like to say.  I don't read His word, but sporadically and hurriedly.   I do notice His amazing creation and the fact that this whole running adventure brings me closer to Him, but I knew in that moment I was not as strong spiritually as I was physically.  

We said our good-byes and I asked Mom if she would drop me off so that I could start my run.  I think she would have run some of it with me, but she was not willing to do it in the rain.  She dropped me off at my Aunt Cindy's house, which is about 4 miles from her's, and I began my run.  A kid named Ben ran with me for some of it, and Aunt Cindy joined me for a few miles as well.  Most of the run was in a steady drizzle, but I did not mind.  By mile 10 I was alone and feeling great, loving the beauty of the countryside and the smell of the wet leaves and trees all around.  I thought about Adam's prayer and talked to God about my focus and selfishness.

Those last few miles were my favorite.  I climbed the long hill to Mom's road, and then the steep hill that was her road as hard as I could go.  When my Garmin said I had completed 12.5, I threw my hands in the air in triumph and smiled at the sky.  I felt strong.  I felt washed clean inside and out (although I still smelled like I'd run 12.5 miles).  I took in deep breaths of the cool, green air and thanked God for the experiences of the morning.

That run capped my second 60 mile week, despite two days off for rest.  I was excited about that.  As September comes to a close, so closes the window of time in which I can improve my fitness for the 50 miler in October.  Along with achieving the distances I believed I needed to be ready for that, I received an important reminder on what else I should be training.  I plan to work on this.  I know that one day this body will grow old and unable to do what I am doing now.  I also know that one day I will be given a brand new body, which will have the ability to run and not grow weary, to walk and not faint.

I look forward to that day when I can run for 10,000 years, when miles will seem like mere steps, and there will be no aches and no pains in my body or in my heart.  I look forward to spending my first 10,000 years running, with my Savior by my side talking to me of all the things I've never known or understood.

In the meantime I will be training, for my 50 miler and any other races I desire to run, and for the day when I will run in another Place altogether.

Honk If You Like Runners

Being an early morning runner, one thing that baffles me is the desire of drivers to honk. Who has the energy or hearing capacity for that kind of noise first thing in the morning? And what exactly is a honker trying to communicate at 5:37 a.m. with that loud blast of noise directed at me?


Well I have some theories. And I’ve narrowed it down to three types of honkers (although understanding these people is still beyond me).

The Hurried Honker

This horn blower is the person who is in a hurry and perceives that you (the runner) are in their way. This is confusing when I am on a sidewalk or in bike lane that is almost as wide as the driving lane. But let’s just say I am running along the side of a road with the traffic. First of all, I am facing traffic and if there is a shoulder, I will move over to let cars get around me easily. Second, I have begun wearing blinky lights when I think this will be an issue so that all oncoming cars have time to see that they are approaching something in the road ahead (this assumes they are not texting or applying eye shadow while eating a breakfast burrito). I am usually poised and ready to take a dive if said car is, in fact, not watching for me.

So, let’s assume again that the oncoming car sees me and there is no shoulder so they are going to have to slow up and go around me. OH HORROR OF HORRORS! Slow down? Be patient? No way! Forget it! These drivers are important people and it is imperative that they reach their destination pronto. I have noticed this mentality while being a driver myself, so it is not only with runners and cyclists that drivers get annoyed. It is with other drivers who may be in their way. The arrogance here…but I’ll step off the soapbox.

The Hopeful Honker

This sound blaster is the person who thinks runners are hot (aka good looking, attractive, sexy, whatever) and decides to let them know by honking. These are often trucks of some sort – working trucks, utility trucks, produce trucks, etc. – who are out making the morning rounds and deliveries. I want to poke them in the eyeballs AFTER giving them a good strong whiff of just how wonderful I smell. I am sweaty, I am sticky, and my hair is usually sticking out of my visor in all directions. I may or may not have morning breath, and I know for a fact I stink and not just a little. You really want a piece of this? I think not. Nor is honking and letting me know that from a good distance I look attractive going to get you or I anywhere. It is just plain loud and annoying, and makes me feel slightly violent.

(I would also put high school students who think it is cool to scare runners in this category).

The Happy Honker

These honkers are the ones who know the runner and they want to say hey. I guess I can’t really get annoyed with these, as most of them are my friends but…if it could wait until you next see me or for an e-mail later that day, that would be a better choice. Whether it is a friendly honk or not, it still makes me jump out of my skin.

That may be an over simplification of all the drivers out there, but there it is anyway. I know, by writing this, I will not be able to change most of the drivers who communicate unnecessarily with a loud blast of noise, but since dodging drivers will always be part of the running experience (for city dwellers, at least), I have recorded it as I see it.

For runners, I would suggest facing traffic if you must be out in it. Wear lights and reflective clothing if you think it will be dark (or any hour near it). Never assume a driver will see you or give you the right of way. My mom always said she would not run in front of a car unless she could see the white of their eyes (but even then, you have no idea if they are going to assume you will stop or not). I’ve almost been run over by a police car with no blinker when he was turning right so…no driver is exempt from suspicion.

So good luck to all my fellow runners who brave the streets every day. Be watchful and be safe. There are people in cars.

Success with Sixty

As I look back on the previous week, I am pleased with what I was able to do. Despite the crazy, busy schedule I kept, and the sore knee and leg that convinced me to take one day off, my plans and predictions came to fruition. I was able to run a total of 60 miles for the week.

Every evening last week contained an activity of some sort leaving no time for running a double or any afternoon cross training. This concerned me somewhat, but there was nothing else for it but to get out of bed early each morning and get after those miles. When I wrote out my plans and predictions for the week, I was not sure if I would be able to do it, but I meant to take one day at a time and try.

Saturday’s 20 miler went very well. I began to struggle around mile 13, but after eating two power gel blast gummies, I felt a lot better and was able to finish the run feeling good. After the previous Saturday’s debacle, it felt really good to feel good.

I started this week with a 10 mile trail run on Sunday, and a day off Monday. My right knee is still hurting, and while it does let me complete my mileage, it complains all day afterward. I would like for this week to be another high mileage week and for the rest of September to be spent hitting the mileage hard. When October arrives, it will soon be time to taper.

This morning I went for an 8 mile run with my mom. She is training to qualify for Boston (at the age of 59, after running a marathon in all 50 states, and 60 marathons before the age of 60). I felt pretty good despite a small bit of knee pain at the beginning and some lower back aches in the middle. I’m trying to stretch out these issues each day at work and in the evenings.

So, since my plans and predictions from last week actually came to be, I’m getting a little braver and making a few more. Here’s my new set of plans and predictions:

Sunday – 10.6 miles of trails with Christy
Monday – day off
Tuesday – 8 miles with Mom in the morning, 3 miles in the afternoon to mark No Boundaries course, run these same miles with runners for Nobo.
Wednesday –20 miles with Kristi with a good deal of climbing in the middle.
Thursday – 6.4 easy paced miles to work out any soreness from the 20 miler and to even out my weekly mileage.
Friday – fit in at least 8 miles before and after the morning No Boundaries training run.
Saturday – I’m planning to do this crazy boot camp thing my mom is doing with some friends and a guy training them all who has agreed to help her qualify for Boston. But at some point I want to round off my mileage (which should be around 56 by then) to 60 or more for the week. Maybe a 5 mile run before or after boot camp.

The training continues…

Enough Time

I used to roll my eyes in my head (aka, secretly) when people would whine about how they did not have enough time to do this or that.

"I just don't have time to send an e-mail." "I just don't have time to workout." "I just don't have time to complete that project."

But here is the truth as I see it.  We have time for what we want to do.  Now, some things we don't just long to do like go to work everyday for 8 hours or go to the dentist, but we do these things because we want the money and we don't want our teeth to fall out.  And then there is the time we want to spend sleeping.  And the time we want to spend checking our e-mail or facebook.  And the time we want to set aside for our favorite show(s). And the time we want to spend reading a new book or magazine, or writing a blog for 5 people to read.  Or any other hobby or activity we like to do.  We make time for that.

However, I find myself becoming more and more...how should I put it...humble, understanding, sympathetic to those who claim they do not have enough time because I find myself whining about the same thing lately.  (But then I look at what I wanted to do and I did it so... really...did I have enough time or just use it for something else I wanted more?)

So when I go home after work followed by class and plop down on the couch with a pb&j and pull out my iphone to play Jason in a riveting game of Words with Friends, while sort of watching Dark Blue (which I think is kind of repetitive)...can I complain the next morning of not having enough time to do my stretches, give my sore leg the attention it needs, run the 800 miles I long to run, etc?  Probably not.

And yes, that is what I did last night (and I sort of suspected I would).  This morning, however, I stuck to the plan.  I ran 6.5 miles and then got out the foam roller and tried to breathe while rolling out my sore leg.  While I was down there I gave a little attention to the abs and arms (which I wish I would do every day), and did some more stretches to loosen all that was tight (which currently feels like everything).

I think it helped.  I am going to TRY to make myself do it again tonight after the Inner City Ministry Catfish Fry (yum). And again on Friday.  Time keeps ticking, however.  It is time to get up, time to run, time to go to work, time to do what's next...  Before I know it, it will be time to put all of this training to the test and see if it was enough. 

But really, can I complain about not having enough time when I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing with the time I do have?  Nope.

And just so you know, my dear reader or two, when I crawl into bed at night with a wonderful husband by my side, a sleeping boxer on the floor, a great job (despite the whole 8 hour thing) to go to in the morning, and friends and family I love all around, I know I am one blessed chick.  God has simply given me too many great things to fit into one tiny day.

But I'll get around to them....when I have time.

Plans and Predictions

Do you ever wish you could simply peer inside your body and really see what the problem was?  Many times when I have pain or soreness, I wish I knew exactly what was causing it and exactly what I needed to stretch or ice or strengthen to make it well.  And then I wish I had more time in my day (and maybe more self-discipline too) in order to focus on such things than I currently do.

At the moment, the issue I'm having involves my right leg.  I had a bit of knee pain before the 23 mile trail run Saturday, but thought it was caused by old shoes (which I have now replaced, despite their pinky-purpley color). After the 23 miler, the knee was pretty mad.  My massage therapist, Kim, worked on it Sunday and told me it was my IT band causing the trouble, and I agree.  Because now that IT band is so mad, it is aching all the way up to my hip.

The pain is tolerable, but also causes me discomfort even when I am not running, which is not a good sign. So I have taken today off (more by force than pure choice due to canceling my morning run and class tonight after work) and hope to get in some quality time with the foam roller once I get home.  Or possibly The Stick if I can't stand the foam roller.  Either way, the leg needs some TLC and I have to take the time to do it.  

So far, the week looks like this:

(Saturday) - 23 mile trail run in Memphis
Sunday - Massage with Kim, 5 mile run
Monday - 10 mile run with the girls at 5:00 a.m.
Tuesday - 8 mile run with Kristi at 5:15 a.m., fast 2.5 mile on the greenway to mark Nobo course, 2.5 slower with Nobo runners.
Wednesday (today) - off, TLC to leg, complete healing
Thursday - not sure, depends on level of predicted complete healing, but 6-8 miles would be preferred and then some swimming after work.
Friday - run some miles with Katie before Nobo run at 5:45 a.m.
Saturday - 20 mile run with Katie.
(Sunday) - hopefully some trails either in the morning before church or later that afternoon.

All in all, if I am able to hit at least 6 on Thursday and at least 8 on Friday, that would put me around 60 miles for the week (Starting Sunday, ending Saturday), despite taking today off...if the leg cooperates...which it will because I've already predicted the complete healing that will take place tonight. (insert hopeful winky face here).

So I'm telling you and I'm telling me that I MUST focus on my leg TONIGHT!  And maybe some stretching in the office at lunch.  My ice pack is here as well, so there's that.  It's about accountability.  And complete healing.

Ultra Running Ultra Fiascos

I suppose not all trips and races on which Jason and I embark are going to be the best ever.  This weekend, we took a short trip to Memphis to run the Bartlett Park 50k, leaving on Friday afternoon and coming home Saturday after the race.

I have never been so glad to be home!  Let me explain:

First of all, I usually book hotels online and I am usually pretty good at choosing them.  I've stayed in a Baymont before so I thought that was a good choice and it was on the race website as a hotel close to Bartlett Park.  I don't know much about Memphis, and I'm sure there are much better areas than where we were, but this was not one of those areas.  It was old, run down, and sketchy.  The hotel was the same.  All we needed was sleep, however, and that is all we did.  (Or tried to do with the neighbors watching TV at high volume).

The next morning we checked out and walked outside into a hot and humid morning.  It was going to be a hot day, but I figured we would be in the shade of the woods most of the time so it would not be too bad.  I had my water bottle and intended to drink plenty and take my time on what I was approaching as a long training run.

The race was small and the optional distances were the 50k, 40 mile or 50 mile.  Christy, a friend from Huntsville, was out there to do the 50 mile, and I was glad I would have a buddy on the course.

The race began with a short 2 mile loop and then those running the 50k would run four 7.4 mile loops.   There were two aid stations out on the course, and runners passed them 3 times.  I ran alone for a while until Christy caught up to me.  We talked and met a girl named Jessica who was a hoot.  She was 46, but looked 25 and she had never run an ultra before.  She had questions about everything and was nervous about her ability to complete the distance, but from her training and energy level, I knew she'd have no trouble.  She left Christy and I somewhere around mile 11, I think.

I knew something wasn't right.  My legs would not get into a comfortable rhythm.  I thought around mile 2 that I just needed to warm up, but when they felt the same at mile 8, I wondered how I would do 31 miles feeling this way.  I kept moving, however, enjoying the conversation with Christy, which kept my mind off how I felt.

When we reached the first loop, a volunteer told me that mine and Jason's number's were switched and that she was really confused when he ran through with the number for "Jane."  We laughed about it and she said he was in first place.  I was not surprised by this.

Around mile 14 (21 for him) Jason caught up to us.  He said, "I think I am done."  I asked why and he said he had missed the 2nd aid station twice.  This was a tricky part of the course.  It was an out-and-back path to an aid station off the main trail loop, but the signage around it was very confusing.  The only reason I did not pass it as well was because Christy had run the course the year before and knew it was a mandatory part of the course, not just an aid station there if you needed it.  Jason, being by himself on the run, passed it by because he had not needed aid yet.

We suggested he could go through again and run the aid station twice to make up what he missed, and he did, but he told the race director to pull him from the results.  He told me it would have made him mad if someone beat him by running a different course, and he did not think it was fair.  So Jason completed his 31 miles, but his heart was no longer in it and he was not having the greatest day either with the heat, dehydration, and lack of recent trail running experience

Around mile 16, I came to the parking lot after my second 7.4 mile loop and I wanted to quit.  I sat down in the parking lot next to Jason as he changed shoes, and told him that everything hurt.  It felt silly, however, to come all this way to run 16 miles, so I decided even if I did not run the entire 31, I was at least doing one more loop.  Jason was doing his last loop as well and that encouraged me to keep running.

It was hard.  I had lost Christy after Jason caught up to us, and she looked so strong, I knew I would not be able to catch her.  My legs ached so badly, and I had no idea why.  My feet and knees hurt as well, but it was just a side note compared to the ache running down my legs.  I was thirsty, but had a stomach full of liquid and while I knew I should eat something, it was the last thing I wanted.  But I ran on, taking walk breaks at the slightest hint of an incline and running (or shuffling) once the trail flattened out again.

Despite all of that, I managed to have a good time.  Everyone out there was so nice, both the runners and the volunteers, and I met a lot of really great people while running.  Right after I started my 3rd loop, a girl named Sarah caught up to me.  Jessica had already told us about Sarah, so I knew a little bit about her.  She was a very experienced ultra runner and marathoner and had her watch set to go off every 20 minutes to remind her to drink.  She'd had a dehydration scare a few years ago, and did not want to experience that again.  She told me about her four kids and I told her about my husband and my mom.  I love talking about Jason and the time seemed to go by a little faster as I was distracted from my discomfort.

After 3 miles, however, I could not keep her any longer.  I was alone again until a man named Chuck passed me.  He asked how I was and I said fine and he went on.  He came back a few minutes later, however, and said he was going to make sure I got to the next aid station.  I wasn't feeling that bad, but I thought it was very nice and was grateful for the company.  He asked me my name and when I told him it was Jane, he said he knew many beautiful girls named Jane and I was holding the torch for that name well.  I said thank you, but I was thinking, you are obviously not really looking.  My legs were covered in trail dust turned to mud from my own sweat, my shorts had grown another size because they were sodden with my sweat, my face was covered in salt from my sweat...and I was sweaty. 

Chuck and I got to the aid station and I left him behind after eating a few potato chips and getting a water refill.  The thought of anything sweet made me sick, so it was salt and water for me.  At this point, I knew it would not be too much longer before I would finish my third loop.  It had been sprinkling on and off during the morning, but now it was steadily raining, although little of it got through the canopy of trees overhead.  The sound was extremely pleasant and the temperature had cooled considerably, and I did not mind my last, slow miles alone.

When I finally emerged into the parking lot once more, I saw Jason and we walked to the aid station to tell the volunteers keeping track of loops that I was finished.  Another runner in front of me was doing the same.  As I went back to the car and squatted down to stretch, I thought this is pretty miserable.  It was still raining, I was soaked and muddy, tired and aching all over.  Still, there was nothing for it but to try to make the situation better.  Jason and I went to a water bucket and washed the mud off of our legs.  I changed into dry clothes behind our car door and toweled off as best I could in the drizzle.  Then we went home.

Despite the fact that I had just experienced my first DNF (unless you count the 5k in middle school when I got lost and was too embarrassed to cross the finish line) I really did not feel too bad about quitting.  Doing one more loop would have been awful, and while I was currently hurting, I knew I had not done any real damage.  To continue running might have, however, and that was simply not worth it to me.  I had completed 23 miles and I chalked it up to a good long run with lots of trail practice.  For that day it would have to be enough.

I was concerned, however, about what this meant for my 50 mile trail run coming up.  Was I in over my head or was this just a bad day?  Could I still be prepared for a 50 mile run despite not completing 31 miles?  Maybe I wasn't cut out for this trail running thing...

All I can do in response to these questions is to continue to train, attempt the 50 miler and see.  I have some time left to improve my fitness, and hopefully the temperatures will be cooler in October than they were for the 50k.

As for Jason and I, we are both fine after a good night's rest in our very own bed and some good food in our bellies.  We got home, took a much needed shower (which was utterly blissful) and then went to get our pup from the Rudolph's before stopping by Smokey's BBQ to get the traditional post-race BBQ sandwich. 

As the stiffness works its way out of my muscles (with the help of Kim's wonderful hands this afternoon), it is time to plan the remainder of my training.  It is time to focus on what I believe will get me ready for the longest run I've ever attempted.  And then there is nothing to do but start running...and see.

I Think My Sister Hates Me

My sister is one of the most thoughtful, loving, care-taking, creative people I know.  She is 6 years older than me and has always looked out for me, taken care of me, helped me, cheered for me, and comforted me when I needed it.  From the time she gave the neighborhood kids what for when they were mean to me, to the time she actually rocked me when I was sick (and the same size as she was), to the time she made my lunches when I'd come home from school, to the time she let me cry on her shoulder when I did not make the high school soccer team and the guy I liked did not like me back.  We've laughed so hard we couldn't breathe and we've cried together at the end of "Homeward Bound" no matter how many times we've seen it.  We've shown up in the same outfit, and no, we did not call each other first (although we've done that too).

Not only is my sis tons of fun and the best big sis a girl could want, she is the best gift giver around.  Not only at Christmas and on birthdays, but for Valentine's Day, Halloween, and maybe even St. Patrick's Day, I am usually guaranteed some sort of treat or trinket.  Or it may be a regular Tuesday in September when she digs something out of her purse that she saw and knew I just had to have.  She's this way with others too, not just me.  From the hilarious (Aragorn action figure), to the meaningful (family cookbook with recipes from the Reneaus and McGuires, complete with childhood photos), to the practical (large Pampered Chef measuring cup), to the downright thoughtful (jar of puppy treats for Chance), she quite literally thinks of everything and with perfect timing.

So, when my amazing sis said she had an office warming present for me, I KNEW it was going to be something good.  When she prefaced it with, "you might hate me" and got a mischievous, slightly guilty look on her face, I still thought it was going to be something awesome. 

And then she pulled out the biggest jar of M&Ms I have ever seen.  She held it out to me and proudly stated, "This is FOUR large bags of M&Ms!"  I looked at her, my mouth hanging open, my eyes wide and all I could say was, "JULIE!"

She said it was for my desk and that I could share it with others.  She even put a cute little metal scoop in it, so people would not have to reach in with their hands to get some.  She demonstrated that one scoop was the perfect amount of M&Ms for something sweet in the afternoon, and she reminded me that just the other day I had complained about there being no plain M&Ms in the snack machine upstairs.  

And that is when I knew...my sister does not really love me like she has claimed all these years. Because she HAS to know that the person who will eat the majority of the four bags of M&Ms in this jar will be ME!

Epilogue

1.  My sister and I still (and will always) have a wonderful relationship despite the fact that I have eaten almost 4 bags of M&Ms in the last week.
2.  I have tried to push these M&Ms off on every person who comes into my office.
3.  I have still eaten most of the M&Ms in the jar and must now run tomorrow's 50k twice. 

Trail Shoe Trial

After the crazy, forgetfulness that has been this week (and I even had Monday off!), I opted for a slower pace this morning.  Instead of getting up early to pound the pavement, I got in a few extra minutes of sleep and took the pup for a walk.  I did not wear a watch or an ipod or anything else that required charging.  I simply put on my mismatched running attire, threw my hair into a sloppy ponytail (more of a bunny tail really), and grabbed the leash, my house key, and a plastic poo bag.  The Chancellor, understanding what was about to take place, began his full body wiggle in excitement.

I also decided I'd better try out my new trail shoes.  I recently purchased a pair of Montrail Masochists and I had yet to wear them. It is sort of important that I do, since this Saturday I will be running the Bartlett Park 50k near Memphis, and I am intending to wear them during that race.

I'm not completely sold on the idea of a trail shoe.  My own trail running experiences have led me to believe that regular running shoes work just fine for me.  I should add here that my trail running experience is EXTREMELY limited.  I can count my total trail races on one hand, and I barely need two hands to count the times I've run on trails period.

All of the more experienced trail runners I know wear trail shoes of various sorts and believe that they are needed when hitting the trails.  When I decided to train and run Mountain Mist in 2008 (a race I decided NOT to run after training on the actual route), I bought a pair of Asics trail shoes because I was told I should, but I never really liked them.  I sprained an already weak ankle multiple times, causing frustration and unwanted time off, but I kept wearing them anyway.

The obvious solution may have been to choose another pair of trail shoes.  And I did try some on eventually.  They all felt bulky, heavy and hard, and I did not like any of them.  So when I decided I wanted to try a 50 mile trail run, I started training in my regular running shoes to see how that worked.  So far, so good.

Reading "Born to Run" did not help the trail shoe defense much either.  I understand the concept of one's feet feeling the ground (while somewhat protected, of course) and knowing what to do, how to balance, shift, settle, move.  I often wonder if the constant ankle spraining is not a result of too much between my foot and the terrain. That does not mean I want to hit the trails barefoot tomorrow, and it does not mean I think supportive shoes are unimportant.  I'm not sure, however, that I need extra shoe simply because the terrain has changed.

But I bought some anyway.  I guess I'm not totally convinced that I know what I think I know.  And the new Asics Cumulus (my normal running shoe of choice) is pink.  Ugh.  I was hoping for another blue and green pair like the ones I have now...that are in serious need of replacement.

So the Montrail Masochists felt a little awkward when I wore them this morning, but not overly so.  I ran some at the end of the walk, and it felt more natural than I thought it would.  They are a little lighter than the other trail shoes I've tried and not as stiff.  I may try them out again this afternoon and maybe tomorrow morning.  I realize this is probably not the best protocol when trying out new shoes but it is the best I've got for now. 

Chance, meanwhile, thought it was all a little over the top and suggested padded paws as the best footwear for running.

I Forgot!

I think I have been losing my mind lately.  I have been forgetting all kinds of things and while I do tend to be a little scatterbrained from time to time, it has gotten out of hand lately!

Yesterday I left work and drove straight to the Wellness Center for my No Boundaries run. On the way there I realized I forgot my cell phone, which was on my desk.  I figured I wouldn't need it between then and tomorrow morning, so I did not worry about it.  When I got to the Wellness Center and went inside to change clothes, I realized I had forgotten to pack a sports bra.  Good grief.  I can forget socks, I can forget my watch, I can forget a ponytail holder (and I do quite frequently).  But a sports bra is sort of a necessity.  Like shoes.

I thought I'd call Julie to see if she would bring me one but of course...I had forgotten my cell phone.  By the time I borrowed one to call her, she was already on her way.  The two mile run with my team was not too bad. I tried to stay at the back of the run/walk group, but most of our Madison Maniacs are running at this point so...there's that.

Last night I decided to join my running girls here in Madison for an easy 6-8 miler at 5:00 a.m, and I set my alarm for 4:45 a.m.  This morning I awoke to Jason's alarm, which goes off at 5:00, and realized I was supposed to be starting the run at that moment.  I had forgotten to put the alarm on the radio setting.  It was going off, but making no noise. And of course, I had no way to call them because I had forgotten my cell phone.

I laid there a little while talking to Jason and then decided to get up anyway and see if I could meet the girls somewhere along their run.  After getting dressed I realized I had forgotten to charge my Garmin the night before and it was most likely dead.  It wasn't, but it only had 39% battery left.

I took off in the dim morning light with my ipod shuffle turned down low to wake me up.  After a mile I stopped to stretch my legs and realized I had forgotten to turn on the GPS.  My Garmin was keeping time, but not keeping track of mileage or pace. I knew the distance from my house to the place where the girls were parked, so I turned on the GPS and kept going.

The girls had just finished their run, but Katie and Julia said they could run a few more with me.  We took off running and when we were close to the parking lot again, I realized I forgot to turn my Garmin back on after stopping to talk to them.  GOOD GRIEF!  Julia had her Garmin and told me the loop we had done was 2.5 miles, so I added that to the 2.5 I ran to get there, adding 2.5 more to get home.

On the way home, my ipod died because I had forgotten to charge it, and my Garmin started to beep at me saying it had a low battery.  I rolled my eyes and kept running.  This was getting ridiculous.  I managed to get myself ready for work without incident and remembered to grab my book bag for class tonight, although I did forget to grab a banana on the way out. I stopped by Brueggers for a bagel and coffee and got to work on time.  I found my phone on my desk underneath folders and papers I'd been working on the day before.  And of course, it was almost dead.  Did I bring the charger with me this morning?

Nope.  I forgot.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

Sometimes I get what I like to call Post Race Blues.  Even though I did not participate in the Louisville Ironman, I was involved in all the hype and excitement just like Jason.  I was exhausted after spending over 12 hours waiting, watching, cheering, running from here to there, and wondering how Jason was doing.  I'd say it took us both a day or two to get back to our usual running schedules, but the hardest part for me was to return to life as usual after being a part of such an event. 

Now, life as usual is pretty great.  But it is strange to come back, have people ask how it went, and give them the surface version, "He did great!  It was hard, but he pushed through and did really well."  What is really well?  What is an Ironman anyway?  Most people don't know, and even if they do know what it entails, it is hard to imagine what that must be like unless one does something in the swimming, cycling, running family.

I expressed my "blues" to Jason, who is much more practical than I am.  He said it was okay if others didn't know what it felt like because we knew and that was enough.  And he was right.  I am grateful to know.  I love sharing this kind of thing with Jason.  I think we make a pretty good husband and wife team that way.  We even got to celebrate that this weekend as we hit the 3 year mark on September 3.

As crazy as it may seem, I think this Ironman business has brought us even closer.  For Jason, he has seen that I support him, I am proud of him, and that I will gladly go with him to these events and even participate in them when I can.  For me, it reminds me of all the reasons I admire him.  I think it is good for a wife to be reminded that her husband is someone she has a crush on and to be impressed by him.  Completing the Ironman does not only mean he's a tough, athletic guy, it also means he's committed, driven, hardworking, focused and well...pretty cute if I do say so myself.

This long Labor Day weekend has been a blast, and despite my post race blues, I had something to look forward to during the week.  Friday night we went out to eat at Bonefish Grill.  We got the perfect booth, set off to the side with romantic, dim lighting and we enjoyed a delicious meal while remembering the past 3 years and what led us up to this point.

And I am going to claim the # 1 Wife Award, because I totally ROCKED the anniversary gift.  I went to Madison Cycles on my lunch break Thursday and pestered the cycling guy to death until we found the perfect present.  I got Jason a bike stand that holds both a road bike and a tri bike so that Jason could work on his bikes without having to sit them on the ground.  He loved it.  He put it together Friday night and replaced several parts on his tri bike.  The more he used it, the more he liked it.  I must say I was pretty impressed with myself.

Saturday I got in a great 20 miler and then came home to shower and pack for Lenoir, TN.  My crazy husband had signed up for 3 triathlons in a package deal, and one of them was the Atomic Man Triathlon Sept 5.  A half-Ironman distance.  I only supported this if he promised to be careful, listen to his body, and to pull out if the thought he might hurt himself.  He said he would, but of course he blew it away finishing in 5:11 and he felt completely fine throughout.

As for me, the temperatures have finally become pleasant in the mornings and I have been increasing my mileage steadily to get ready for my upcoming races.  This taste of fall invigorates me, and each morning I step outside into the cool, crisp temps, I have to smile despite the fact that it is 4:00 a.m.  My pace is beginning to gradually pick up and my running times are beginning to drop.

So with the celebrating of an anniversary, the cooling of the weather as fall begins to make an appearance, the upcoming races to which I look forward, my post race blues did not last very long.  There are simply too many good things all around me to let the blues stick around anyway.

My Husband the Ironman, Part 3

It was August 29, 2010, the day of the Louisville Ironman.  I'm not sure how much sleep Jason actually got the night before, but he did not waste any time getting up when the alarm clock went off at 4:30 a.m. (which was 3:30 on his personal clock).  I woke up to the crinkling of a Powerbar wrapper, and I thought to myself, here we go.

When we walked outside we were both surprised to be hit by a wave of hot, humid air because the temperatures the previous week had been so pleasant.  I began to worry about how high the temperature would climb, and how that would take its toll on the athletes.

I walked Jason down to the transition area where he pumped up his bicycle tires and put a few things in his transition bags. It was dark and there were people everywhere, as we walked to the back of a long line of athletes waiting to start the swim.  My mom joined us in line and we all three waited there for over an hour until it finally started moving forward.  The race had begun.

 
I parted ways with Jason about 5 minutes before he jumped in the water.  My heart was racing as I gave him his three good luck kisses, and I had a lump in my throat as I tried to capture his plunge into the Ohio River.  After seeing him off, Mom and I made a quick stop at the Subway across the street for a bathroom break and a breakfast sandwich.  Jason had given himself about 2 hours to finish the swim, but I wanted to be there as soon as possible.

We ate as we quickly made our way back to the transition area.  I ran along, shoving one last bite into my mouth before trashing the rest, and then I nudged and inched my way into the mass of people lining the path the swimmer's would run to get to their bikes. My camera was at the ready as my eyes scanned each swimmer to see if he or she were mine.

It wasn't very long before I saw Jason.  "There he is!  There he is!" I said as I snapped away and started cheering.  He smiled as he ran by, giving me a wet high five as he passed.  He had completed his swim in 1:24:30.

After seeing him there, Mom and I ran to the bike exit and stood on top of a wall to see him again.  We cheered and took pictures as he rode out of the transition area to begin his 112 mile bike ride.

I figured we had about 2 hours before seeing him at the 40 mile point in LaGrange, TN where they were holding a festival for all of the Ironman spectators.  Mom and I went back to the hotel to get Dad and the car, and the three of us drove to LaGrange.

I'm not sure how we managed to miss the right exit, or if the GPS we were following tried to take us the shorter route, but to my dismay, we ended up riding along with the cyclists. I tried to find a road that would take me around them, but we were out in the middle of the country and there was no where to go.  I tried to stay out of their way, always giving them room to go around me and pass other cyclists, all the while hating that I was in a vehicle on their course.

I was relieved when they finally turned off and we went straight, taking a different route to LaGrange.  Once there, we stood with the crowd along the road, cheering for the cyclists as they rode through town and looking for Jason.  I yelled as loud as I could when I saw him, and he smiled and waved looking strong and full of energy.  We had about an hour and a half before he would ride through again at mile 70, so we grabbed a hot dog and I stopped by a face painting booth to get the Ironman logo painted on my arm.

He rode through again, still looking great as he smiled and waved at us.  I was so excited to see him obviously having a wonderful time, and I hoped his energy would stay with him through the remainder of the ride and then for the marathon to follow.

After this second sighting, it was time to head back to Louisville to see him finish his bike ride and begin the marathon.  We drove as far out of the way as we could, believing ourselves to be going around the cyclists, but once again the only way to get back to Louisville was to ride with them. I hated it, but drove as carefully as I could, riding in the oncoming lane when I could see no other traffic coming.

We parked at our hotel, and Mom and I made our way to the transition area once again.  We climbed back onto the wall where we had previously stood and waited...and waited...and waited.  It was hot and the sun beat down on me as I worried and wondered if we had missed Jason or if something had gone wrong.  The occasional siren of an ambulance did not help matters.

I eventually called Mark, my brother-in-law, and asked if he would track Jason's progress online.  He found that Jason had finished his bike ride and was already running.  I was relieved that he was okay, but so upset that I had missed him.  I knew he'd be looking for me at that transition, and I really wanted to be there for him as he started what would probably be the most challenging part of the race. 

As I look back now, I feel sorry for Mom, because I was inconsolable as I tried to figure out what to do and where to go next.  I had a map of the marathon, but there were no mile markers, so I had no idea where to go to see Jason before the end of the marathon, and I wanted to see him so badly!

The two of us walked to the finish line, with me whining the entire way. When we got there we asked another spectator about the course and he quickly became my hero.  He explained that they would have to pass the finish line around mile 13 and then do another loop of the course before returning to complete the marathon.  He then plugged Jason's number into his Ironman iphone app and saw that Jason would be approaching his midway point in the next half hour.  I could have hugged him.  I hugged Mom instead.

While we waited to see Jason, we met up with his parents, his brother and his brother's girlfriend, Erin. When we finally spotted Jason, I could not yell loud enough.  He saw us and came over, hugging his mom and my mom before giving me a huge kiss and telling me to walk with him.  "Nothing is right, nothing is right." he said as we walked.  "Everything is right, everything is fine, " I replied.  "You are doing so well, Babe!  Just keep moving."  He gave me one more kiss and took off.  Despite his complaints about how he felt, his form seemed solid and strong.

After that, the wait seemed endless.  I took pictures of all Jason's fans who had come to cheer for him, and we talked and caught up and watched the other athletes, and I wondered how Jason was feeling, how he was doing, when I would see him...  I could not wait to hear the announcer say, "Jason Reneau, you are an Ironman," and my eyes stayed focused on the street leading up to the finish line.

Jonathan spotted him first and began yelling as I tried to cheer and take pictures at the same time.  Jason looked amazing as he ran through the finishing shoot with a marathon time of 3:45:41.  I ran along the outside taking pictures and grinning like a fool at my husband who had just completed his first Ironman.

A race volunteer gave him his medal and then walked the remaining way with him, as I followed along on the outside of the finish line.  She gave him water, a finisher's tech shirt, and a hat and they handed these things to me to carry.  Finally we reached the end of the line and he was handed off to me.  He was doing just fine, bright eyed, smiling and glad to be finished.

His family and mine caught up with us and they all congratulated him and I took everyone's pictures.  I was so happy for him I could have exploded.  After we took pictures, I sent him back to our room with his family, and Mom and I headed down to the transition area to collect his bike and transition bags.  Jason was over heated and extremely nauseated, but after a shower, some rest, and a little food, he was feeling better before I got back to the room.

Not only had Jason finished his first Ironman, but he blew it out of the water with a finishing time of 11:13:36.  When he signed up for this event he was injured, discouraged, and knew very little about competitive cycling or swimming.  And yet.

I had been right in believing that not only would he finish, he would finish quite well.  I am proud of my husband for many reasons, but on this day I was proud of him for challenging himself, keeping his eye on the goal, pushing through doubt, injury, pain, frustration and discouragement, and giving it all he had on race day.  It is how he has approached everything in his life, and that is what makes my husband the Ironman.

My Husband the Ironman, Part 2

Once Jason was signed up for the Louisville Ironman, it was time to buy a bike, a helmet, cycling shorts, clip-in shoes, bike tools, swim trunks (the tight, triathlon kind), goggles - the works.  I don't think either one of us realized just how much gear was involved, and Jason made many return trips to Madison Cycles the more he learned. 

Jason found a training plan online and every week he printed off that week's assignments.  He did not follow it exactly, but he used it as a guide for the workouts and amount of training he should be doing.  His first bike ride, the day after purchasing his bike, was a 20 mile ride on a cold Sunday morning from our house to the Allen's house where I was running with my friend Shannon, and then getting ready for church there.  When he arrived he was frozen and a little saddle sore, but he had enjoyed the ride.  That was a good sign.

As winter settled in Jason purchased an indoor trainer that would allow him to ride his bike in the warmth of our house.  This meant that many evenings after work, I would make dinner or watch TV with the gentle hum of the bike in the background.  This was kind of fun because we got to spend time together while he rode his bike, although I must admit to getting impatient a time or two when my tummy was ready for dinner and he had 10 minutes to go.

He started going to a public pool near our house until we figured out the UAH gym I attended had a better pool schedule, so I added him to my membership.  I tried to join him at the pool in the winter months, thinking it would be good cross training for me, but in temperatures from the 40s and below, I could not bring myself to put on a swimsuit and get wet.  Jason, however, was undeterred.

When the warmer weather of spring finally showed up, Jason got ready to take his bike outside again.  For Christmas he had received all manner of cycling apparel and gear, so he was ready to go.  

Jason entered his first event that involved cycling in March.  He signed up to do the Powerman Duathlon in Birmingham which consisted of a 10k run, a 37.3 mile bike ride, and another 10k run.  We were both a little nervous about his very first event, but he did well, despite the cold and the rain that day.  After the event, some other participants noted his fast running time, and Jason admitted to being very new to cycling.  They told him in order to get stronger on the bike, he needed to get in time on it.  They said he needed to get out there and ride and ride and ride.  So that is exactly what he did.

He started riding on Tuesdays and Thursdays with a group on Redstone Arsenal, slowly building up his mileage and speed.  One Sunday afternoon after spending the day with my parents in Fayetteville, TN, he decided to ride his bike home for a total of 43 miles.  Upon finishing he was cold and glad to be out of the wind, but other than that, he felt just fine.

In May, he entered his very first triathlon, which was a sprint triathlon in McMinnville, TN.  He had a blast and watching him, I caught the bug myself.  We went straight to Madison Cycles on the way home and I was fitted for a bike and all the gear that went along with it.  Now I would be joining him on this new adventure.

Over the summer we did as many triathlons as we could find.  Jason began to do better and better, often winning his age group as he increased his distance from the sprint to the Olympic distance.  He signed up for the Gulf Coast Triathlon where he hoped to see what the half Ironman distance felt like and if he was training enough.  He decided not to go however, when his brother's house was flooded in Nashville, and we went to help Jonathan that weekend instead.

Jason also participated in several organized rides starting with the Tour de Cave 70 mile ride in June, and following that with a few 100 mile rides in July.   Each morning he would get up extra early, run 10 miles or so, and then ride the 100 miles on his bike.  I joined him for a few of these, always riding a shorter distance and sleeping until he returned from his run.

At some point late in his training, Jason realized that he probably needed a triathlon bike for his Ironman, instead of his current road bike.  Once again we went to Madison Cycles (they probably love us), and once again he had to get used to this new bike, with only a month or two left to train.

As our fast and fun summer came to an end, so approached the Louisville Ironman.  Jason had told no one of his new endeavor except for myself and his brother (although I might have blabbed to a few girlfriends along the way).  He quietly went about his training, enjoying the new activity, sharing only with me any thoughts and doubts he had about his upcoming Ironman. 

As the weeks turned into days and into hours before the big event, the main question Jason asked was, "Did I do enough?"  I believed he had.  I believed that not only would he finish his first Ironman, but that he would do quite well.  I reminded him of this every time he expressed doubt.

He ended up telling a few friends who had inquired as to his plans for the weekend, and he invited his family and mine to come watch if they wanted.  They did, of course, and we all made plans for where we would be and how we would find each other.

And then it was time to leave for Louisville.