A few great things...congestion being one of them.

Can you read that sign? "Slow Congested Area."
Our government dollars hard at work. I can confidently state that there was no congestion anywhere in the area...nor in the next four miles which looked incredibly similar (and had three more signs posting that it was a congested area.)

Had a great run out into the countryside this morning. Dropped 23 seconds per mile off last week's long run time and added a full mile onto the run.

Favorite moments from today's run:

Saw a baby cow that had just been born. Its momma was still trying to clean it up when I came by, and the baby was just taking its first steps. Nothing's sweeter than a wobbly calf.

About ten miles into the run, an old man pulled up next to me, rolled down his window and said, "I guess you are out for a walk?" (At the time, I was taking a one-minute walk break, so I didn't have to kick in his door.) Still, the fact that I was three miles from town on a country road was enough that he wanted to make sure all was okay. I told him that I was getting ready for a marathon. He repeated, "A marathon... so I guess you don't need a ride?" Very sweet. Unless you were the woman in the car behind him waiting for him to get going again. Then it was probably very annoying.

Five dog day. But still no dogs at the house that worries me most. That was a seven pig house, but they were all safely behind a fence. Phew.

I found a nickel.

I had the hubby take this pic at the end of the run...celebrating my first fifteen mile run in several years.




What was great about your latest run?

How big is your box?

I'm having one of those school years where work is really, well, work. It's mentally taxing in ways it hasn't been before. Some days, it feels like the best way to approach the day is one task at a time. Other days, I can take on the big picture. Today my friend and I gave a training for other teachers, and that was work (but in a different way). So we followed that up with our first-ever run together.  

I told my friend about the box today. Let me qualify this by saying that these mind games are really for those gut-wrenching, long-distance runs that seem like they'll never end. The box is a mind game that another friend taught me when I first started running. And I'm all about the mind games that you can play when running. A couple of my favorites:

Step counting: When I think I can't go another step and when the gravel side of the road looks as inviting as a down comforter, I start counting. 50 steps on. 50 steps off. 100 steps on. 100 steps off. 500 steps on. 50 steps off. I pick some steps and run/walk them until I feel like I can adjust the number. It gives my brain something to do while my body is suffering. 

Do the math: Can you? If you can still calculate the number of miles left in relation to the number of miles in the total run (or, in common speak, if you can do fractional math), then you're not yet really fatigued. 

And the box. The space on the road in front of me is a rectangle, and I adjust the size of the rectangle based on however much I can mentally handle. But the point is to keep running towards the front edge of the box. Sometimes the box is a mile long. Sometimes, the box is ten feet. But whatever distance I make the box, the deal is that I can't readjust the length until I get to the front edge. The goal, too, is that when I get to the edge of the box, I run another ten steps beyond it...cause I can do anything for ten steps. 

My friend needed the box today. She hadn't run this distance in a while, and we were out running in a 20 mph wind on some rollers around her house. And it kind of made me think that I really need to be more aware of "the box" when I'm not running, too. When work is really work. The box is as big as I make it. And I can always go a few steps beyond it.

What are your favorite mind games for runs? 

You be strong woman! Continue!

I got passed by a Kenyan today. Twice. An actual Kenyan...not a speedy fast figment of my imagination. And when I say passed, I don't mean once coming and once going. I mean the guy lapped me. (He's a runner on the local university team.)

I get to qualify this by saying that I was running a 1.25 mile loop in a local park on a gravel trail, and he was doing some sort of inner loop on the grass (cross-country style), so I don't think he was actually doing the same distance that I was. But whatever distance he was doing, he was doing it a heck of a lot faster.

I got out of work late today, pulled on my running shorts (yes, shorts in February), and walked out to my truck debating all the way there whether or not I should just head home. I was pressed for time, and by the time I got to the park where I wanted to run, I wasn't sure I'd have time for even a three miler. With the Flying Pig coming up, though, there isn't much wiggle room for missing runs, so I hit the trail.

Initially this post was going to be about the running monologue in my head while I run in a park. My brain wants me to say these unfiltered thoughts to the people I pass. "Really, those Skecher shape-ups aren't doing a thing for your ass." "I'd kill for that pace." "Buddy, lose the fleece...it's freaking 60 out here!""Hey, dog friend." "What's with the side to side arm motion, dude?" "You. Are. Badass." These comments are usually interspersed with my own comments to myself. "You do love hills. You really do." "Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast." "Tuesday night tacos?" "Relentless forward motion." But then he showed up. The Kenyan.

I was coming down into a little mini-valley...down to the bottom, through the scoop, and right back up again. I had just taken those few sweet steps where forward momentum and downward momentum somehow combine to make the running feel effortless, and I was about to start the grind up a 1/3 mile long hill when I saw him coming out of the corner of my eye. Fast. Feet kicking up. Smooth. That sweet spot feeling immediately disappeared, and I just wanted to stop and watch the poetry in motion. He was unbelievable. He said something to me that I didn't hear as he passed, and I said, "Go, man, go!" and he was gone.

On the second loop, I didn't see him coming. Through the sweet spot again and about twenty steps up the hill, and he was behind me again (very briefly). "You had to catch me on the hill twice," I said cleverly as if the hill was what was making the difference...not my 10:42 pace. What he said made my day, "It's good. You be strong woman! Continue!" And he was gone again.

New mantra. Thinking about putting it on my shirt for the Pig.

You be strong woman! Continue!

A new route, a milestone, and dog poop (again with the dogs)

I set out on a new running route today. I never do that. I run the same roads every single time I run. Most of the time I run alone, so running familiar routes is a comfort to me. I know the houses. I know the dogs. (There are two on the backside of my 8-mile loop who chase me every Sunday on my long run, but they are behind an electric fence.) And apparently some of the people know me--I once got passed by a woman out on a beach cruiser who struck up a conversation with me about how much I was running because she'd watched me lose 20 pounds over the course of several months passing by her house on my runs.

Today on my 14 miler, I ran out into the countryside onto the sixteen-mile loop that is part of my bike route. Hills. I haven't found out too much about the Flying Pig, but people tell me that I need to be running hills. Perhaps not the wisest choice today--I haven't run 14 miles in five years. I've been sick for the last week and a half. And I was tacking two miles onto my previous long run, so it promised to be a tough day out there anyway.

The thing about this route, though, is that I know where the dogs are because they've chased me on my bike a million times. I talked with my husband about it before I left the house, and he said that he hadn't seen any dogs in the house I was most worried about in quite some time. Comforting. Last time I'd been by there on a bike, no fewer than four dogs had chased me down. My husband said that he seldom gets chased on the run like he does on a bike. Hmmmm. Okay. I'd give it a whirl.

So this house is about five miles into the run. And you get to the top of a roller just before you get to the edge of the property. Then you're faced with about a third of a mile of barnyard and junkyard-like paraphernalia to deal with. If the dogs are there, they are usually pretty well-hidden, but they are never chained or collared. And by the time I got there today, I had repeated my husband's words about not having seen dogs there several times in my head like a mantra to calm me. Still, I was wound up.

I tried to run as stealthily as I could, and I was about halfway past the house when I started to think my husband might have been right. Maybe these folks had gotten rid of their dogs. Phew. What a relief. Shuffle, shuffle....shit. Yep. Right next to the mailbox. Two amazing piles of dog poop. I mean, these piles were so huge that I wasn't sure that Clifford himself hadn't been there. My heart rate skyrocketed, but I shuffled on. Evidence. No dogs today. But the signs are clearly there.

Miles four through eight were the hills. I was gassed when I was done with them, and I still had another six to go. I finished, though. I wrapped up the run at exactly fourteen miles, and I was exhilarated and discouraged. Exhilarated because I hit the 14 mile milestone again. I haven't been that distance since the marathon of Ironman Wisconsin in 2007. Discouraged because my mile pace was a full minute slower than the 12 miler I'd done a couple of weeks earlier. Also discouraged because I felt like crap when I finished. Seriously. I got in the shower and couldn't stand still because my hammies were screaming so loudly. I went through that mental space where the marathon seems ridiculous. If 14 feels this bad, then how the heck am I supposed to get back to 26.2? And I'm looking at a 5+ hour marathon time, and that's something I've got to get in the right head space about before I toe the line in May.

All part of the process. And there's no point to committing to a marathon if I'm not going to appreciate the process.

100 miles down...14 miler coming...and rich dogs...

So I discovered something yesterday while running. I got to run out of a park that I normally don't get to run from, and I headed from there up a tree-lined street into what I'm pretty sure would be a gated community if we had such things in the area where I live. The houses up there are amazing--well-manicured lawns, wide streets, views of other well-manicured lawns, circular drives, and street lights appropriately placed every so often so as to highlight the well-manicured lawns. There is only one road in and out of the subdivision, and that road leads to a circle of 1.1 miles through the subdivision looping back to the entry road. I'm not going to lie, it was pretty sweet. There wasn't a person to be seen on the entire run, and I kept thinking to myself, "These folks should get used to seeing me because if they aren't going to use these beautiful streets, I sure as heck am." Whoever those folks are. I didn't see a soul. But here's the thing I discovered--rich dogs are annoying, too.

I planned to run about 3.59 miles yesterday. Okay, at least 3.59 miles yesterday. I had exactly that much to hit 100 miles for the year. The road from the park up to the loop was .65 miles. And I went around the 1.1 mile loop once admiring the houses and thinking about how peaceful it was to be in this beautiful area of town. What I didn't realize was that while I was doing my first one-mile loop, the homeowners were all coming home from work and letting their dogs out.

So I headed out for loop 2, and I met my first two furry friends. Yip dogs. No sweat. A few houses on from there, and there was a black lab-type friend and some other muttly looking guy. And the parade continued. What had been a peaceful neighborhood only minutes before erupted in wild barking for the extent of my second loop around. Eight dogs came out from four different houses in a 1.1 mile stretch. And still, not a person in sight. I thought the barking would bring someone out, but nope. Pretty much the same as in the country. When I run past someone's property and their dog goes on the offensive barking and such, no one seems to take note. Not something I really understand. If my dogs go after someone/something, I go after them... and then apologize profusely and explain that they are geriatric and can't hear and don't really have teeth anymore. No one bit, though. So that was a good thing.

Tomorrow is a 14 mile run. I was going to do it Sunday, but the weather is rolling in. Tomorrow's high: 60. Sunday's high: 37. Hmmmm, tough call. 14 miles is enough to reassure myself of my badassness (giggles out loud), so I don't feel the need to add in challenging weather if I can avoid it. The journey to the Flying Pig continues.

A Valentine's Day Things I Love About Running List

I took a cough-free three mile run tonight, and I was grateful for it. I hacked up a lung when I got home, but I had a great three miler while I was out there, and I was formulating my top five things I love about running in my head. I don't think these are actually my top five. But these are the top five that came to mind. 

5. Snot rockets. Seriously. In no other area of my life, can I just stick my finger to the side of my nose and blow and just keep right on running. Bodily functions don't really fascinate me in the way they do a lot of people, but there's something just so freeing about blowing your nose tissue-free. And when a car swipes too close, well, let's just say it's good to have something in the arsenal. 

4. Gear. Running can be as gearful or gearless as you want it to be.  Sometimes, I kinda dig the gear. I have every version of water bottle available to fit in every hydration belt or camelback out there, and yet I still manage to find more versions to try. I'm a few years behind in my GPS technology, but I have two different versions of GPS watch and at least one GPS-equipped cell phone. I can find the perfect long-sleeved, short-sleeved, or no-sleeved shirt for any sweating occasion. And the shoes. Oh, the shoes! 

3. Not having to have gear. While I have all the stuff, I don't always like to use it. And that's the beauty of running. A pair of shoes, socks, shorts, and a sports bra, and I'm out the door. Any of those four pieces is missing, though, and it's run interrupted.

2. Having a secret running life. It's not always easy to compartmentalize, but I love going out and running a solid long run on Sunday and then heading into work on Monday knowing that I'm doing something most people don't know I do or probably don't think I could do. And if something at work is driving me insane, I get to go work it out on a run. Now that I think about it, the folks  at work may have caught on by now; I tend to use a lot of running metaphors. 

1. My crazy-gene-sharing, number one favorite "thing" about running is Jen.There's a great fellowship in running because runners all have to share the same crazy gene.  Most of my favorite running stories involve Jen or Jen's family. If you don't have a Jen, you should get one. 

This one's for you, Sherry Arnold...

It's been a tough week. Bronchitis. Sinusitis. A steroid shot (WOOT!). Antibiotics. Prescription cough suppressants. I had a decent twelve-mile run last Sunday (albeit slightly painful from some rather awkward chafing), and that has been it for running miles this week. (The irony of my last post is not lost on me. There are times when toughing it out, though, is dumber than hitting the couch.) So I did the 12 mile to couch training program for the week.

This morning was the virtual run for Sherry Arnold, so I layered up, put on my race belt in Sherry's honor, and headed out the door. It was the coldest day of the winter here so far (at least in my memory).  And I'd like to write about this run with some level of clarity, but I just don't have it. I kept thinking about how uncomfortable I was. Several times, I doubled over next to the road to cough. I couldn't quite figure out the right combination of layers for my head. My sunglasses kept fogging up. My feet were numb. I just couldn't get it together. But I ran.

And then I got to come back home. And that's the one thing that struck me on this run. I got to come back home. Sherry Arnold didn't. So while it wasn't the run that I thought I'd be having today, this run was for you, Sherry.

Even when the crap piles up...

Or maybe because the crap piles up? It was a crap week at work for me. People didn't show up. People didn't do their jobs when they did show up. Kids did what kids do and threw curve balls at us all, and it felt like we swung and missed more often than not. The kid thing is the nature of teaching at a middle school. Kids are supposed to try to outwit, outlast, and outplay us--even to their own detriment. The "People" deal should not be the nature of middle school, and it frankly sucked. If you are a teacher, you know what I mean when I say that sometimes all you want to do is freaking teach, for crying out loud. A friend gave me a mantra for the week, "Step over the crap, not in it." I should have said it more often.

But my goal for the week was to run my Tuesday/Thursday runs no matter what. I come up with excuses for why one run or the other doesn't happen every week. Lame. Every Tuesday, I have a meeting after school, so I get home late. Every Thursday, I sponsor the knitting club at school, so I get home late. Switch the runs to Monday/Wednesday, you say? Oh, every Wednesday I have a faculty meeting after school, so I get home late. And Monday is a recovery day from long run Sunday. These aren't even the excuses I come up with. This is just my actual schedule.

I won't go into the actual excuses. They really are lame. My point here (and I do have one) is sometimes when the crap piles up, the best thing to do is to run. No matter what. Raining? F it. Dark out? F it. Don't feel like it? F it. Put your effing shoes on and get out the door. (Somehow, pseudo swearing motivates me. I'd actually swear, but I'm trying to keep my two-year-old daughter from producing the words I actually say in my head all the time. I don't abbreviate in my head.)

To make what should have been a short story longer, I ran the Tuesday run just fine. Got to Thursday, and I was fired up because I didn't have child responsibilities, so I thought I was going to get to run down by school instead of having to do my usual route at home. Got into the bathroom at school to change after knit club and discovered I had not packed my sports bra. Disaster. Jumped into the car, drove home, snuck into the house so as not to alert our geriatric dogs to my presence so that they wouldn't go ape-scheisse over me being home and leaving them again, slipped on my sports bra and shorts and snuck back out the door undetected. Got back in the truck and drove to the local park with a 2 mile trail. Laced up. Hit the trail. Misery.

I was having one of those runs where you feel obligated to run because: a) you promised yourself you would get in your Thursday run no matter what. b) the weather is ridiculously nice (no global warming? what the hell is wrong with these people? but I'll take it.), so you have to run because it would be a sin not to. c) the husband is not going to get to run, so you have to run so that you don't feel guilty for preventing him from running.d)I'm sure there's a d. But there's a Bell's Porter in me at this point, and I fear I'm just rambling. Crap.

Long story short, no joy. Ran 2 to fill the obligation. Headed home. I know, though, that even when the crap piles up, I should be stepping over it. Not in it. Even on a crappy two-mile run. And sometimes running to fill the obligation is as important as running because you enjoy running. (And sometimes a Bell's Porter is a great thing to drink before posting on a blog and sometimes not.)

Running 12 tomorrow. Crap or not.