Running to Marvel

My small group (Bible study group from church which meets every other Sunday night) recently decided to start reading "Crazy Love" by Francis Chan.  We finished our study of Joshua and were trying to decide what to study next.  I was leaning more toward another book in the Bible.  I find that I often get bored with what other people have to say about the Bible, so I figured it was better for me to go straight to the source.

A few people in our group spoke very highly of this book and one even read a review about it out loud for the rest of us.  It sounded pretty good.  And if what it said was true (that God is calling us to a passionate relationship with Him and that He is bigger than we may realize, etc), it could be pretty life changing.  That, added to the fact that I'd have to keep up with the reading in order to discuss it on Sunday nights, along with the fact that Jason and I would read it together - I was in and I ordered my book the next day.

Last night as Jason got ready for bed, I read the introduction by Chris Tomlin and the preface.  It sounded pretty good still...maybe a bit scary...but mostly good.  Scary because it might move me to change and well...I like how things are just fine.  Are things exactly like they should be?  Probably not.  Is it possible to live a much more powerful life if my relationship with God were more than it is now?  Definitely.  But changing...moving away from my comfortable little life into something that might be...hard?  I don't know.

I do know it is worth it to try, however, and so I intend to give it a go.  One chapter at a time.

When Jason came to bed, I read aloud the preface and the first part of the first chapter.  I really liked what I read.  The first chapter is titled "Stop Praying" and what I got from it so far is this: We (humans) are quick to talk to (at) God, but do we really know Who we are talking to?  Do we really have an understanding of Who He is?  So, my first assignment is to marvel at Him and to witness just how big and amazing He is.  Francis reminds readers that the majesty and glory of God is all around for our viewing pleasure, and he gives several examples of this.  He also references this video, which I just watched today. And let me just say here that the book says all of this MUCH better than my little synopsis in this paragraph.

So this morning, I woke up with the words in that first chapter still in my mind.  I was a little disappointed to have missed my morning run due to the crazy storms because it is when I run that I find it so easy to marvel at God.  I witness His mornings, and each one is different and beautiful.  Each sunrise paints a different picture across the sky.  The birds have different songs to sing, and there is no telling which ones we will hear while out running.  You might think there isn't much to see running through southern suburbia, but there is plenty.

As I drove to work in the cold, windy and wet morning, I thought "You've picked a great day to focus on marveling."   But then I noticed the clouds in all shades of gray, in all shapes and sizes, moving across the sky.  I noticed how everything glistened in the wetness, and the sounds the water made when I drove over it.  When I got out of my car, sure it was cold and damp, but even the parking lot smelled good after so much rain.  And then to ponder just how our atmosphere works to create rain in the first place, and that my God came up with all of that... Yes, even on the nastiest November day, there was plenty at which to marvel and see the greatness of my God.

I thought about the movie "Eat, Pray, Love" which was made from the book of the same title.  I started that book too, but had to put it down once she went to India to learn to meditate.  It was just too feely, move-to-the-light-ish for me, and I tend to think God wants a bit more for (and from) us than happiness.  But I watched the movie anyway because I figured they'd romanticize and condense it, and because I like Julia Roberts. 

There is a part of the movie, after she leaves her husband (because she is not happy), where she tells her boss that she wants to marvel at something.  To do this, she wants to go to Italy, India, and Bali in search of...things at which to marvel.  And as the movie portrays, there is plenty there to see.  The food, the languages, the fountains, the landscape, the weather.  But if that is what it takes to truly marvel over something, I'm afraid most of us are out of luck.  Unless we learn to marvel where we are.  Unless we open our eyes, take a look around and see it.  Because I believe it is there.  I believe it is all over the place in Madison, Alabama.  Just like happiness, I believe we can find it anywhere and in any circumstance.  It may take a bit more looking, but I know it is there.

My drive to work was only 20 minutes long.  I listened to the radio, sipped my coffee, and tried to take in the marvelous that was this gray, rainy day.  I succeeded.  I intend to continue this exercise.  Instead of talking to (or at) God in my usual sporadic manner, I'm going to be silent for a while, look at what He has done and see more of Who He is.  I'm going to keep reading this book too.  I'm going to do my running this week with the purpose of marveling at everything it entails, from my own body and what it is made to do, to my surroundings, to the company I keep or the solitude. 

I'll let you know how it goes.

Running is Like...

I had a simply marvelous Thanksgiving holiday.  I enjoyed the time with Jason, the time with our families, the shopping with Mom, the food and the time away from my office.  My house looks downright FABULOUS if I do say so myself (and I do).  

One thing I particularly loved about my holiday time was the running.  I didn't have to get up at 4:45a.m. and hit the streets.  It was nice to run in the sunshine under a blue sky with my pink sunglasses and my green shorts.  It was cool enough to run far, and warm enough to work up a good sweat.  I allowed my legs and my mind to wander down any road they chose, and I enjoyed the freedom and the solitude immensely. 

On Wednesday (my housewife day) I ran the 3 miles to my sister's house to feed her animals and then ran home. I must insert here that since I moved to Madison seven years ago, I have lived within about a mile radius of myself. Because of this my running routes stayed relatively the same despite the moving from a condo to a house of my own, to a house with Jason.  

As I ran the familiar route to my sister's house, I approached a hill that used to be a difficult one.  I remembered when getting all the way to the top was a big deal and when being able to keep running once I got to the top was a major accomplishment.  It was many years before that hill became just another bit of running route.  Sure, it still gets my heart rate up a little higher, but I hardly notice it now.  There are many hills like that among my running routes and I enjoy revisiting them when I get a chance.  It is almost like I want to grin and say, "Just look at me now. You thought you had me beaten, but look at me NOW."

And sometimes I'm not just saying that to the hill, but to the past as well.  As I run these familiar streets, I remember what was going on in my life when I ran them in the past.  So much has happened in the last seven years.  I have run these streets with a heart full of joy, sorrow, doubt, fear, anger, curiosity, hope...

And while these streets stayed the same, I have changed quite a bit - as a person and as a runner.  Most of this change has been good and I love seeing how far I've come, what I've learned, how I've grown.  I look back and I see how things did or did not turn out the way I wanted, and either way it was usually a good thing (and a God thing).

Sometimes I laugh at the girl I used to be.  She was so silly about so many things.  There was so much she didn't know, but thought she understood.  She made mistakes, but most of them taught her something important.  And for some reason, in the end, she always came out okay.  I'm not sure why that is, but I'm grateful for it.  Looking back, it is easy to see God's fingerprints all over the experiences of the past seven years.

What stands out to me is how the things that used to seem difficult, like there was no right answer, like there was no way to get passed it or through it, and nothing good could possibly come from it...they don't seem like that anymore.  The large, monstrous hills that were so hard to climb seem like anthills now.  And what's more, I'm glad to climb them.  I actually enjoy the challenge.  I like the way my legs burn, the way my heart beats harder and my breath comes faster.  Those hills make me stronger, so when I'm faced with a bigger hill, or a hill I must climb when I've already run a long way, I can handle it.

So running is like...life.  The more I experience, the more I learn about myself, about my God, about the people around me, about how to handle the more difficult things that come my way.  That does not mean I have it all figured out.  On the contrary, I realize that I know less and less as I learn more and more.  But I can learn from the past. I can see how getting over those obstacles, those hills made me who I am today.  And the more hills I climb, the stronger I get and the more confidence I have when faced with a new one.

I love that.

The 5k That Almost Wasn't

For the three years that the Jingle Bell 5k for Arthritis has been held in Huntsville, I have had a team to run it.  We are the Red-nosed Runners, and the first year the race was so small that my team was in the top 5 for money raised. Now the race is much bigger so the corporate teams raise a lot more money than I can, but I suppose that is a good problem to have when raising money for a cause.

In previous years I've had hot chocolate and cookies at my house afterward, but this year I did not offer that.  With the home improvements we've been doing, Thanksgiving just around the corner, and our small group Bible study that night, I left it up to my teammates to do their own thing before and after the race.  Good thing too, because I almost missed it.

Around 1:00p.m. I was mopping my hallway when the phone rang.  It was my friend, Katie who was on her way to the race and did not know where exactly it was.  I thought the race started at 3:00p.m. so I asked her why she was already heading over there.  "The race starts at 2:00, " she said.  I pulled up the website to help her with directions and sure enough, the race did, in fact start at 2:00. I had to call Mom and pronto.

Mom was driving down from Fayetteville to run the race.  She was going to come to my house and we were going to ride together and grab a coffee afterward.  I told her the race started at 2:00 and gave her directions to get there. Then I changed into my running digs, hopped in the car and drove to the race (I wasn't exactly sure where it was either, but I had a general idea).

I found Mom driving around Research Park and motioned for her to follow me.  We eventually found the entrance, parked and made a dash for packet pick-up.  The start line was a good distance away, so we stashed our bags in the Sportsmed tent, pinned our numbers on crookedly, made a quick run to a port-a-potty and got to the start line about half a minute before they said, "Go!"

I took off.  Or tried to.  I had it in my mind that I was going to try for (and achieve) a 5k PR. The race was in the afternoon and my body was warmed up.  I'd eaten and my legs were itching to go since I had not run yet that day, so I figured I'd be able to push.  The problem was that I'd jumped into the crowd at the first open spot, and when the announcer started the race, I could hardly move forward.  I weaved back and forth as I tried to get around walkers and runners.  It was fun to see several of my friends on my way out of the crowd, however, and I cheered for as many as I saw.

My first mile was 7:07 despite the slow start.  That was right where I wanted to be.  The second mile however, was 7:21.  I knew a PR was still within my reach if I pushed hard and held on.  I fixed my eyes on a girl in a running skirt a good distance ahead of me and told myself I could do it.

I did eventually catch and pass her, but not quickly enough for a PR.  I was 10 seconds over it, finishing in 22:50.  I was slightly disappointed but not overly so.  I turned and jogged back along the course, cheering for all the friends and teammates I saw.  I felt really good, like I could keep going forever.  After Mom ran through, we walked a bit and then headed to Barnes & Noble for the first peppermint mocha of the season.  MMMMMM.

I think I've hit a plateau with the 5k distance.  I'm sort of interested in training to improve, but I really prefer the longer distances at a slightly slower pace.  So maybe one day... Maybe one day soon.  If everything is just right I think it is possible. I'll probably double check the actual start of the race next time too. That may help.

Earning Your Turkey

As Thanksgiving approaches, I will admit it, I think a good deal about what I'm going to eat.  And I think about it with excitement.  I am a big fan of eating, and the traditional Thanksgiving meal is one of my all-time favorites.  I absolutely LOVE fresh turkey and my dad's dressing with some tangy cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes and green bean casserole with a delicious slice of pecan pie to finish it off.  And the left overs!  Oh, the blessed leftovers.  I love them. 

This is going to sound like I'm one of "those" people when I say this, but one thing that makes eating fun is feeling like I've earned it. By earn, I mean I have already or am about to burn off a large portion of the calories I wish to consume.  An example: I love Olive Garden, but I only go after running a marathon.  Why?  Because I don't want just the salad and bread sticks.  No, I want the deliciousness I can't even pronounce that I saw on the latest Olive Garden commercial.  But I won't really enjoy it if I don't think I've earned it.  And for the calorific (I don't even want to know) goodness that is eating at Olive Garden, only a marathon will do.

So, when Thanksgiving approaches, I begin to think of ways to earn it.  A local Turkey Trot is one way.  A walk with Chance and any available family between feedings.  A long run before or a few days after.  High mileage and light eating the week before.  Lots of shopping the next day.  Any of these options will do.

I found a great article in Runner's world that discusses this.  It is called "The Runner's Holiday Weight-Loss Plan" and I think it has some great tips for watching the waistline during the holiday season.  I don't think I'm alone when I say that I want to enjoy all the goodies the holiday season brings, but I don't want there to be any proof afterward.  Vain?  Nah.  As a runner, it isn't all about looks (although...it is some).  It is about staying light on my feet, staying healthy and strong, and yes, even looking good in my jeans. 

So give the article a read and enjoy your Thanksgiving meal.  And if none of that appeals, you could always try this:

Old Navy Gobblepalooza | Three Days of Dazzling Deals | Gobblepalooza.com

The Good, the Sad and the Impressive

The Good

Jason and I (although my part has been minimal and rightly so) have almost completed painting the spare bedroom and the study.  I've been given the closets to paint, and let's just say I'm really glad no one looks in the back of the closet.  It is an improvement from the non-painted scuffed up wall that was there but...my painting...is scary.  And I would not ordinarily volunteer to paint, but I hated to sit comfortably on the couch while Jason worked, so I helped.

The carpet folks will come on Saturday and take care of the bedrooms which are currently concrete floors (thanks to Jason).  I cannot WAIT to get my little home back in order!  It is starting to give me the heebie jeebies!  I'm ready to clear out the front room, rearrange it to our liking and clean the floors!  I haven't done much to them besides vacuum since we've been working on the house but...they are starting to get to me too.

And then there is Thanksgiving and I am so excited this year!  My in-laws and my parents are coming to my house.  There will be 8 of us total.  I have never hosted a Thanksgiving lunch (or dinner or breakfast), never made a turkey or anything (except pecan pie).  I've also been saving my pennies for Black Friday shopping with my mom. I'm sad that Julie and my mom-in-law won't be able to shop with us, but I do have one buddy and for now that will do.  I'm not really one to get up at 3:00a.m. and hit the stores, but I don't think I'm in the market for any hot ticket items either.  Still, I am pumped about a fun day of Christmas shopping with my ma.

The Sad

Due to the fact that the carpet folks are coming on Saturday, and I'm in a lovely state of recovery...I have written the race director of the Dizzy Fifties ultra and told him that he can give my spot to someone on the waiting list.  I ran the Dizzy Fifties 40 Mile last year, and it was such a wonderful experience.  The course is sort of a figure 8 and runners hit the aid station every 5-ish miles.  A lot of folks complain that it is boring because the figure 8 is run over and over again, but for this inexperienced trail runner, it was just what I needed to become familiar and comfortable with the terrain.  Part of it is smooth and flat, and part of it is hilly and more technical, but not so much that it is overly difficult to run.  This race was why I thought adding 10 miles would be so doable.  I did not take into consideration just how different trail running courses could be (which should be obvious, but lets place major emphasis on the inexperienced part of my trail running know-how).

I'm a little sad to be missing it simply because it was a special race for me.  If there was nothing going on, I might be tempted to do the 50 mile and...I don't know, go for a better 50 mile time and experience.  Regain what I felt in the 40 mile...something like that.  But, that will have to wait another year.  I am ready to focus on full body fitness, my core, my arms, my speed and doing another 50 mile would NOT help with that.  It would be another recovery period and I do not have the patience for that right now. 

The Impressive

I work with a lady named Maxine who is a runner.  I realized this shortly after I started working at UAH and recognized her during my run one morning.  After seeing her out there several times, I brought it up and she and I have been pals ever since.  Maxine is 66 years old and she ran the half marathon on Saturday.  She was the only one in her age group to run it, and I was so impressed.  I sure hope I am still running these events when I am 66. 

At the race, Saturday, I introduced Mom to Maxine.  I had already told Maxine all about Mom, how she trained me for my first marathon and ran it with me, how she'd run a marathon in all 50 States and run a total of 60 marathons before the age of 60.  Maxine, being a mom and a runner, loved the stories I shared.  She told me yesterday that she prayed for Mom to make her 4:30 goal in the Rocket City Marathon coming up. 

THAT is what I'm talking about.  I was so hesitant to write the post before this one.  I'm not really into the controversial and I usually keep my opinions to myself on such matters because there is always that small doubt in my mind whispering, what if you don't really know?  What if there's something you did not consider? 

As cheesy as it may sound, I like to focus on the positive, the amazing, the impressive, the inspiring, the uplifting, the sunny side of things (just call me Pollyanna). When others argue and debate heatedly or light the spark of a controversial discussion, I am more likely to walk away and ignore it than to engage.  But when it comes to running, something that can bring a community together, promote physical, mental and spiritual health, help people feel amazing about themselves - something that is so accessible to all, and rightly so.  I want to tell those who exclude, make fun of, and put down other runners to can it. 

What is impressive?  Two women in their 60s talking about their next marathon.  A stranger praying for another to achieve her goals.  Spectators cheering on runners they don't even know.  The winner of the race remaining at the finish line to cheer in every runner that comes through, no matter how long it takes them to do it. Celebrating with your fellow runners who achieved their goals, no matter how much slower it was than your own. That, my friends, is impressive and that is what it is all about.

The Better Boston Bureau

The other day a well known runner guy in our little running community posted a Facebook status about the Boston Marathon.  He was complaining about how quickly the race filled (something like 7 hours I think) and that the qualifying times were too easy, which is why so many people were signing up.  He received several responses to that, both in agreement and not.  He then posted the times from years ago and what they are now.  I guess the point was to show what they should be...or that they were once harder...or the people who qualified with those harder times were more deserving of the honor to run the Boston Marathon...or maybe he hoped the race directors of the Boston Marathon would take note and change things... Whatever the purpose, it bothered me.

It was not only his status, but the responses to it that also bothered me.  One girl posted that the times were too easy and who wants to run a race if just anyone can get in. What?  Too easy for her maybe, but not for everyone who strives to qualify. And do they really believe it is only the qualification times that make Boston such an important goal for marathon runners? These were my thoughts as I continued reading the responses.  What in the world?  These people are Facebook friends* with others who run slower than they do or who have not yet been able to qualify.  How in the world is a status of that sort supposed to encourage runners? Maybe the point is not to encourage them, but to let them know they are not worthy and their marathon times are too slow, even for the current Boston qualifying times.  That's nice. 

The proof that some of their friends got the message appeared some minutes later.  Another running friend who recently qualified and got in to Boston posted that after reading all the talk of the race, she wasn't sure she should have registered. I commented on that one.  I had a lot of things I wanted to say...something about meaningless words of ignorant, thoughtless people, but instead I said she had earned it and should go.  It was her running journey, after all.

Good grief. What happened to good old fashioned kindness and thoughtfulness?  And what is it in our nature that makes us compare, put down, exclude, divide?  Is it so that we, in the end, come out on top?  I am better than you, and here's my proof! 

Should Boston qualifying times be more strict?  Maybe, maybe not.  For this little runner, they seem pretty tough. Are runners who qualified for the harder times better, more deserving runners of the honor of running this marathon?  Maybe, maybe not.  But what point does it serve to broadcast such a view, right in the face of hundreds of other runners who dream of such an achievement?  It isn't just me. I know these other runners.  I see their statuses filled with all caps and exclamation points on the day they qualify.  I see them at the finish lines, gasping for breath, feeling like death while knowing it was totally worth it.  I hear the plans, goals, training and hopes of one day making that qualifying time.

I know running races, like all sports, is competitive.  I know there are results and they are based on the comparison of my time against yours. I think that is fine and helps runners push harder than they might otherwise.  I think it is fun to race, to compete against those like me (age and gender), and I like it when I win my age group. But what I think is "Wow, Jane, look at you!  There is no way you would have ever imagined running like this a few years ago!  Wow!  You've got to tell people so they know they can do it too. So they can feel like this.  This feels awesome!  I wonder what else I can do..."  I'm not trying to pat myself on the back for being nice.  And I'll admit, I'm not always thinking nice thoughts.  There exists a person or two that I've beaten and enjoyed the fire out of it (quietly to myself...okay, and to Jason).  But what comes before the fall is pride, and it doesn't taste so good when you have to eat it.  I don't want my running experience to be about beating another person (just that curly headed girl named Jane).  I want it to be about my love of the sport and all the running adventures I write about in this blog.

I think it is impressive when someone can run really fast or really far or really far really fast.  It is more impressive, however, when someone can run like that and stay humble.  When kindness and thoughtfulness have a higher priority than spouting off about who the best runner is and that second place is just first loser (yes, they've posted that too). I think those who win are pretty cool, both locally and nationally.  Until they appear to think so too.  Until they need to take their running prowess out of the racing arena and use it to step on others who can't even fathom running like that.  Then I am unimpressed.  I am not inspired.  I don't want to be anything like that, no matter what their marathon time was. 

The things that are the most important - love, kindness, thoughtfulness, gentleness...you know where I'm going. I think these should take precedent over the constant comparison of me against you.  Can I run faster?  Do you make more money?  Are you smarter than me?  Am I better looking than you?  What is it that promotes our need to be better than others?  And how in the world can we really measure that anyway? Does it make you feel better to exclude me, the slower runner, from the Boston Marathon?  I won't ever get that feeling of turning the corner right before the Boston finish line (I've heard its awesome), or witness an entire city support a race, or hold that medal in my hand.  But hey, at least the qualifying times will honestly reflect which runners are good enough for Boston, and when registration opens, those runners will be able to get in.  If that is what matters the most, then so be it.  

* Facebook friend definition - someone you've come into contact with at some point in your life....maybe.

Half Time

First of all, I'd like to say that I do love a quiet and rainy Sunday morning with a cup of coffee and a pup at my feet.  Does it get any more peaceful?  I always intend to get up a little earlier on Sunday to have some time to write and sip, but usually extra time in bed wins out.  I went to bed at 8:30 last night (I know, just call me Granny) and that along with the time change made it easier to get up this morning.  And imagining that first sip of coffee.  That will do it every time.

So, yesterday I ran the Huntsville Half Marathon.  For some odd reason, it is one of my most favorite races.  Many of my fellow runners complain about the boring out-and-back section on the greenway, but I love that part.  I love seeing the front runners heading back out, and I love seeing all my friends ahead or behind me and cheering for them.  And even with that bit of craziness two years ago when I got temporarily disqualified, I still look forward to running it every year (although I always want to yell NO HEADPHONES and point to my head when I see Pres). 

I will admit, however, to being a little nervous about this one.  I had not run any sort of endurance race since the 50 mile.  The only race I'd run was the Spooktacular 5k and let's face it, how serious about a race can you feel when dressed as a Jedi?  With the half, however, I wanted to do well.  Possibly even get a PR, but I had no idea what I'd have or if my legs would give out or do something crazy...or if they'd be just fine.

Race morning, I got up early, drank some coffee and ate a granola bar.  I picked up my mom at my sister's around 7:00 a.m. and we drove to the race.  I had to hurry and get my packet, pin on my race number, visit the bathroom one last time (coffee) and it was soon time for the race to start.  I stood at the start line talking with Leah and Amy, and that took away any pre-race jitters I was feeling.

The race began and we were in a tight pack on the road, so it was impossible for me to start out too fast.  That was fine.  I wanted to give my legs about 3 miles to warm up before I picked up my pace.  Once the pack thinned out, however, it was hard to hold back and for a while, my watch said I was running a 7:35 pace.

Around mile 4 or 5, I caught up to my friend Kristi.  It was very nice to have a buddy for a while and we talked just like we do on our weekly runs until we reached a water stop.  She was being extra careful due to an ankle sprain and so I lost her around the aid station.  By this point I was good and warmed up and ready to push it.  My next miles were just under eight minutes as I entered my favorite part - the greenway.

It wasn't long before the front runners appeared, and I cheered for all the ones I knew.  Seeing the first few women is always inspiring too, and spurs me on to push a little more.  The best aid station is down there, as well, and I saw several friends handing out water and gatorade there.  I love the loud music they play.   It is like a little party and all the runners got to go through it twice.

Once I turned around, I got to see my mom and many of my other friends and it is always fun to cheer for them (and to be cheered for, of course).  One man running with me said, "You've got a great support system out here."  I agreed.  Maybe that is one reason I love this race the most.

I was keeping my pace between 7:55 and 8:00.  I was feeling pretty good but still a little apprehensive.  Would I give out in the last 2 miles if I kept this up?  No way to find out unless I tried it, so I kept going.  I caught several people as I ran, and met another lady who stayed with me a bit.  We talked a little while about the race and the day.  It was a warm day (just like last year) and she was surprised by this, being from San Diego.  We talked about what it was like there and the best races in her area.  I think it was a nice break for my mind and body because I quit thinking about pace and let up a little as well.  Around mile 10, however, I was ready to push again.  I was trying for a 1:46, which would be a personal record. 

Around mile 11, I did begin to feel a little tired and my pace dropped.  I began to take smaller quicker steps, and that helped.  I had a sip of water at the last aid station and began to dig deep.  I passed several people who had seemed far ahead of me on the greenway.  I caught up to a young guy wearing those rubber shoes with the toes in them, and I asked him how he liked them.  He looked (and sounded) like he was struggling a bit and I don't think he wanted to be passed by a girl.  I can kind of tell when it bothers a guy because they glance at me, pick it up, and try to hang on.  He kept groaning every once in a while, so at one point I told him we had less than half a mile to go.  He let out a loud grunt...and I left him.

I was running around a 7:30 pace at that point, and it would turn out to be my fastest mile in the race.  I knew a 1:46 was a little out of reach, but I meant to push hard anyway.  I told myself I'd run 50 miles and therefore had the ability to dig deep and push even when tired.  It worked.

There was a girl running a good distance ahead of me and I stared her down, willing the distance between the two of us to grow smaller.  It was, but so was the distance between us and the finish line.   I poured it on, and once we entered the parking lot at mile 13, I took the opportunity to pass her.  She wasn't having it.  She picked up her pace, and I picked up mine.  She and I, along with two other guys all hit the finish line together, and Jim Oaks, one of the race officials, called out the order we finished by shirt color.  I didn't know what anyone else was wearing so I fell in line behind them.

Jim Oaks said, "No, you are just ahead of her by a little bit," as he took my arm and moved me in front.  It was a little awkward as we walked through the narrow shoot together to hand off our tags to the volunteers...but I smiled to myself anyway.  If you don't want to get passed at the end, you better be running to that finish line like nobody's business.  Like it isn't even worth their effort to try because it can't be done.  Still, even more than racing her, I was watching the clock.  I did not want it to say 1:48, so I ran like mad to get there.   But still...she was a female after all and she might have been in my age group (she wasn't, but I did not know).

I finished the race in 1:47:51 which is only a few seconds slower than my PR for a half marathon.   I was thrilled with that.  I would have liked a 1:45 or 1:46, but I knew I had not been training for that.  Only a month after the 50 mile that beat me black and blue, I was running a good half marathon and that was enough for the day.

I walked back to cheer with my friend Holley who had come out to support me and Kristi, and soon Kristi joined us.  I cheered in Mom and all of her Fayetteville peeps, along with several other friends.  Mom and I ran 3 more miles after the race.  She wanted seven, but at that point my body was done.  We went to check out the results, and good thing too, because she won first place in her age group.  I was 5th.  And if I had been 2 minutes faster, I would have been 3rd and won a COFFEE MUG!  But still, 5th out of 79 isn't half bad.  I'll gladly take it. 

Overall, it was a great day and a great race.  As always, I had a wonderful time and I was pleased with my performance.  No matter what anyone else says about that race, it will always be one of my favorites.

I'm in the green shorts on the far right.

Veteran's Day Inspired Thoughts

I got choked up this morning as I wrote my Facebook status, thanking those who have served and are serving our country. I always get teary when I think about how much I love my country.  Whenever I hear "God Bless the USA" on the radio, I turn it up and sing at the top of my lungs, with my voice cracking toward the end.  I love hearing our national anthem at races and ball games, and I always get choked up then too.

I think it started back when I spent some time in China.  On my first trip home, I looked out the window as my plane descended over my hometown and I sang a few words of "God Bless the USA" to myself.  I had never been outside of the US until then and going to China...well, it was an eye-opener.  I read several books and blogs about it before I went, but nothing really prepared me for how different it was than anything I'd ever known.

When my friend Emily joined me there the following semester, we had a saying that kept us...sane.  "It's not bad, it's just different."  This was always the comic relief when things made no sense or when we'd simply had enough.

I loved my time spent in China, but when I returned to the US to stay, I was glad to be home.  Ever since, I have been extremely grateful to live in this country.  Sure, our government is a complicated mess and I don't always agree with decisions that are made.  But all it takes is pulling up the latest news on other countries to show me that our government isn't half bad.

I value peace and I value freedom.  A lot.  I love that I can wear what I want, buy what I want, work outside the home, own property.  There was a time in this country when women could not, and it is still that way in others around the world.  I can marry who I want, I can choose my major in college.  I can go from having nothing to having much, and there are laws in place to protect my property from others.  Education is readily available, and I may not like what goes on in all school systems, and I may think our teachers should be paid a lot more, but my children can still go to school and get a good education.  And if public education is not to my liking, I can choose to pay for a different one or homeschool.

Options.  Do Americans even realize the options we have that so many other countries do not?  My students in China did not even get to pick their college majors.  They were assigned a major whether they liked it or not.  Some of my students could hardly communicate with me in English and yet...that was their college major.

Freedom to choose.  Freedom to decide.  It is so easily taken for granted.

After spending almost a year in China, and even as I take my current National Security Policy course, I am often left with a feeling of overwhelming gratefulness that I, Jane, was born in this country.  I am grateful that I can go about my daily life unafraid.  I am grateful that as a woman, I am as free as a man.  I can pursue athletics.  It wasn't that long ago that women were not allowed to enter marathons because it was believed our uterus would fall out.  I am grateful that I can run down the road, baring my ankles for all to see.  In some countries women must cover themselves head to toe.  I can vote.  I can run for office, if I choose.  I have a voice.

I know this is sort of stream-of-consciousness, but this is how this gratefulness comes to me.  Bits and pieces at different times throughout each day.  Driving to work on a clean, litter-free street.  Wearing shorts.  Voting at the polls.  Making out a Christmas shopping list.  Walking into a grocery store.  Drinking clean water from the tap. Making travel plans.  Owning a home.  As I live out my freedoms each and every day, I recognize them for what they are.

My father-in-law and most of my grandparents served in the military. My grandparents are all gone now, but when they were alive, they had stories.  Most were in the Air Force, with crazy stories from WWII.  My father-in-law served in Vietnam.  I also have several friends who serve now.

I am not a proponent of war, but I am a proponent of freedom.  My thoughts on our current war situation are mixed, but I do know that freedom is worth fighting for, and I am so very grateful for the men and women who did the fighting, and for this great country in which we live.  

God bless America, land that I LOVE!

Times, They Are A Changin'

Ah, that good old "fall back" that everyone grumbles about.  A co-worker of mine said to me as we were walking into work yesterday, "I wish they would just leave it alone."  She shares the sentiment of my husband and many others, although I don't think they are really complaining about the extra hour of sleep, but more so the darkness that shows up a lot earlier than it used to.

I've joined in with the occasional complaint about the early darkness.  In my cushier days of working for the government (although, I guess you could say I still do), I could amend my schedule and leave work at 4:00p.m. once the time changed so I could enjoy a bit of sunlight in the afternoon.  That is no longer an option with this new job, so I leave in darkness with the rest of Huntsville at 5:00 p.m. 

Still, for me there is an upside to the time change and it has to do with the fact that I am an early morning runner.  As summer ends and the days grow shorter, the darkness of the morning grows longer and I end up starting and finishing my run in the dark.  When the time changes, however, I am suddenly met with a sunrise much earlier than before and I love that.

This morning was particularly nice as Kristi and I were running directly into the sunrise.  As the line of pink and orange began to appear on the horizon, I thought, "How nice is this?"  Not only is it nice to be able to see where I am going, it is nice to be greeted by such a lovely sight!  I can say with honesty that I love starting my day this way.   Sure, it is sometimes grotesquely early, but so very worth it.  Those first few moments of being awake may be a little tough, but once I get up and start moving, I'm always glad I did.  

Friends have said I am disciplined and dedicated, but really, I'm getting so much more than the hour of sleep I gave up. Good exercise.  Good conversation with a friend or two or seven.  And many mornings, an amazing sunrise.  It feels like God is saying, "good morning" as he presents his beautiful gift.  I want to be awake to see that.  I want to be outside running, seeing, and experiencing before I start a day of sitting, staring at a screen for 8 hours. 

So even though times are changing as they always have, it is not all lost hours and darkness.  There is light and beauty to be found as well.  I mean what better way to spend that extra hour?   

Progress!

Turns out I made the right decision about this weekend.  It was very productive, and while I enjoyed running each day, I was relieved that I had not chosen to do 26.2.  The running itself was good, but afterward, I felt like a creaky old lady.  Jason said I feel that way because I am not yet recovered...and I believe him but good grief.  Enough already!

I had a fun and fast 7.5 miler on Saturday.  A fun and COLD 6 miler with Shannon Sunday morning, and another cold 6 miler this morning with the gaggle.  I feel like I'm getting back into a routine and that feels good.  I'm trying to get my recovering old lady self into a regular yoga or pilates class to help things.  It won't be pretty for the first few weeks, but I know it will be a step (or pose) in the right direction.

On another note, we made some MAJOR progress on the house.  We consolidated, organized, shredded, and bagged until we had our files in order, our junk in trash bags, and an empty study.  Of course the front room looks like something from the hoarders TV show, but at least we know what all of it is and where it will need to go once the bedrooms are re-carpeted. 

When we were finished, we looked at our trash bags and shook our heads.  How in the world did we have all of that stuff we did not need?  It felt good to get rid of it and to be organized once again.  Our motto while cleaning and clearing was WWJRD.  "What Would Julie Rudolph Do?"  Jason asked if that was sacrilegious and I said no since the original "J" didn't come up with that slogan.  To explain, you have to know my sis. And since you may not know her, I will go ahead and tell you that she is the Jillian Michaels of cleaning out.  All she needs is a British accent and she could have her own show.  We considered using her services, but in the end, I felt we did a pretty good job on our own with our little motto as our guide. 

It is now time for me to go to Kemp's Flooring and pick the new carpet and make an appointment for them to come install it (does one install carpet?).  My original plan was to walk in, tell them I wanted what they put in the Rudolph's house and walk out.  Jason nixed that, however, saying I needed to pick our own carpet.  I, for one, know very little about carpet, paint, color schemes, room layouts, etc.  What I do know, I've stolen from other people.  I have no shame in seeing something I like in someone's house and doing the exact same thing in mine.  But, I will go and browse the swatches all the same. When, exactly, may be tricky. 

The only thing that received none of my attention this weekend...the paper.  We spent all day Saturday (9:00a.m. to 4:00p.m.) working on the study and then Sunday I did laundry and vacuumed the house and then sat on the couch for just a second and got sucked into "Freedom Writers," which is a great movie by the way.  Jason was diligently doing his own homework and when he saw me sitting on the couch he asked about the paper. I told him I was thinking about it and planning it out in my head.  Then I told him not to talk to me until the commercials.

So, that leaves me my lunch breaks at work to write and ...alas...I will have to finish it up Tuesday evening.  Not ideal, but I can give up my TV time with Jason this one time.  I am so pumped about the home improvements.  I know it seems trivial, but there is just something so rewarding about having one's home in order. 

So there you have it!  Good decision made, good weekend had!  The end.

Two Reasons I Love Saturdays

Nuff said.

Because I'm a Girl...

...I reserve the right to change my mind.  And that is exactly what I have done.  I will not be running the Marshall University Marathon this weekend, and I am at peace with this decision.

As I told my friend, Katie, it isn't the marathon itself that is the reason.  I would love to try for a PR, and I still may in the next week or so.  The things that stop me in my tracks and make me consider the wisdom of going have little to do with running and more to do with the rest of my life.

1.  I have a paper due Wednesday.  It is only a 10 pager, so not very intimidating, but I am not very good at doing school work during the week, which leaves Saturday and Sunday as prime paper days.  When my day starts at 4:30a.m. and I get home at 5:30 p.m. or later...my brain wants to chill, not work.  Yeah, that is the price one pays when working on a Master's, and I know a ton of people work and go to school (and have kids and a million other things) but for me...I'm not that into it at the moment.  I've made all A's so far but...I'm thinking I will be at peace with a B this semester. 

2.  My house is torn apart.  Not all of it, but about half of it.  I decided I wanted to repaint the spare bedroom and re-carpet both that room and the study.  Right now the spare bedroom is concrete and mostly painted walls.  The study is a mixture of itself and the spare bedroom.  Both rooms need to be emptied before the carpeting can begin.  And I can't just empty them.  I have to organize, sift, and cull.  That takes time.

3.  Thanksgiving is at MY HOUSE this year.  That is why #2 has a bit of a deadline. 

4.  And lastly, there is the issue of the 7.5 hour drive both ways in one weekend.  Now, I might be up for this if 1-3 did not exist and if Jason were running the marathon as well.  But to go just for me and then come home to a crazy next couple of weeks...no thanks.  Plus, this old body aches just sitting through a day of work when I can get up and down as needed.  All that time in the car with a marathon in between...it does not sound fun or smart. 

And so, there are the reasons I have changed my mind.  I felt so relieved to finally make this decision, that I knew it was the right one.  Once I let go of the plan, it was like my whole being gave a sigh and I realized just how tired I am.  Not like the dragging, can't stay awake kind of tired, but the kind where the striving and planning and going and training finally takes a toll and I realize I need to take some time to just be.  Time to focus on a few non-running things in my life, like my class, my home, and my family.

I'm still out there most mornings running with my girls, or enjoying the last vestiges of sunlight on an afternoon jaunt.  I still (and will always) keep track of my weekly mileage and my Garmin is once again strapped to my wrist, showing me pace and time.  But I don't have a plan and for once that feels so good. 

Running just to run because it is what I love to do.  I'm going to hang out here for a while.

Decision Time

To run the Marshall University Marathon or not to run it...that is the question.

In truth, I think I already know what I will do.  I will go and run.  I will run hard and try for a personal record. But I have no idea what the outcome will be, and I have already counseled myself strictly that I am NOT allowed to be down or hard on myself if I do not PR.

Here's the thing.  I think I am trained and able to run a better time than a 3:58.  Maybe not a Boston Qualifier, but a PR is definitely within my reach.  The factor that works against this is that I just ran a 50 mile trail run 3 weeks prior.  I feel good and healed and ready, but that is not always a true sign that this is the case. 

Why is this a big deal at all?  I mean there are a ton of marathons all over the US taking place at later dates.  Why not do one of those?  Good question.  The reason is I've decided to do some other things, and while I do not intend to stop running, I do not intend to run a marathon for a while.  I'd like to temporarily "end" on a better note than a 3:58.  Not because that is not a good marathon time, but because I know in my heart I am ready to do more.  I'm itching to prove this.  Maybe just to myself, but I want to see it on the clock, not just in my mind. 

I had a moment last week when I let myself...what would you call it...give way to the worry and frustration that sometimes plagues a runner in a human body (which is pretty much all of us unless there is something I don't know).  Our imaginations, dreams, hopes and desires often outrun what our bodies will let us do.  This may be because of time, energy, ability, or injury - but it is the runner's curse in a way.  In truth, we (I think I can speak for most of us) just desire to run.  Period.

I love it.  It is why I can hardly let myself mend and heal after a hard race.  It is why I cannot ignore the call of a gorgeous day.  I get impatient, irritable and fidgety at my desk as I long to be outside in it.  It is why, when injury strikes, it can become seemingly unbearable to hold back, to stop, to do less, to wait.  Simply because I love to run.

So, last week I had some pain that hinted of injury.  And I had surprising amounts of fatigue.  I wanted to run the marathon.  I doubted I could run the marathon. Should I run the marathon?  I wanted to run and PR. And as the tears of frustration began to appear, I rubbed my sore leg and thought, this is ridiculous.  I am crying about running down the road of all things!

Ridiculous, not to mention greedy.  Ungrateful.  Silly.  I just finished a 50 miler.  What more can a girl want?  I also have a husband I love, a house, a good job, great family, and all the trimmings that make my life wonderful.  I feel like the little girl who got a new doll but wants the doll house and pronto. 

So, I let myself have this little pity party tear fest and then I got myself together (okay, so Jason helped). My amazing massage therapist worked on my leg and told me I was going to be fine.  She said to rest and then run the marathon.  My running friends said the same.  At the very least, I get another state toward my 50 state goal, and I can say I tried.  At the most...well, we know what that would be. 

The decision is pretty much made.  It is a risk because I fear the disappointment that accompanied Louisville, KY.  I fear some sort of proof that I can't break my own record.   But I hope too.  I hope I can run strong and hard.  I hope I can achieve a PR.  I hope to have that amazing feeling that accompanies such a feat. 

All I can do is lace up my shoes and give it a shot.