Mountain running

I knew that keeping to the training schedule last week was going to be a real challenge. A 10+ hour car trip. Thanksgiving. Sleeping on an air mattress in a room with 2 kids & 4 dogs. Mountains. How would I adjust to running at an elevation of around 5,900 feet?

I was worried about all these things. We spent all day Saturday in the minivan trekking across west Texas. The plan was to run 4 miles on Sunday, in order to maintain the training schedule. However, Sunday came, and I was exhausted. After a morning outing into town, I completely fell apart and ended up falling into a monster nap on the couch for most of the afternoon. I was bummed that we missed our running window and was worried that I would not have the strength to run on Monday and my schedule would be shot.

Thankfully, my running buddy/trainer/husband was with me and spurred me into action on Monday morning. As we hiked down to the road to begin our run, I was both nervous and excited. In retrospect, I was also very naive. Our 4.5 mile route took us on a steady uphill climb into the canyon (about 630 feet in elevation gained) for 2.25 miles, at which point we turned around for a blessed (mostly) downhill run. I was naive in thinking I could run most of the uphill portion. I was quickly discouraged and straining for breath. Even the walk breaks were not breaks. It was exhausting, of course I cried, but in the end, we did it.

And just in time, too. As we were returning to the house (after the run, on achy, wobbly legs, a hike up a steep, rocky hill), the misty rainclouds we had observed gathering from a distance moved in upon us and let loose. We very narrowly missed being caught in the torrential, freezing downpour. Whew.

After the experience of Monday's run, I adjusted my expectations for our Wednesday run (3 miles). Honestly, most of the uphill part was walked, but even so, my pace was much better than it had been on Monday. I felt much more confident this time out, knowing that this would be invaluable training for the hills in the half marathon.

On Friday we got an early start so as to miss the threatening rain. We took my brother-in-law's word that we had a window of opportunity and we ran with it. It was pretty chilly, so we bundled up and headed out. The rain/sleet from the night before made the route a little muddy, but thankfully the storms held off until we finished our run (the first few drops falling as we made our way back to the house.) Another close call.

I have to say, this week was a huge confidence boost for me. Running in the mountains was a thrill. My trainer's praise, encouragement, relentless pushing and comic relief made all the difference. I could not have done it without him by my side.

The first race of my career

My husband asked me later why I cried.

I struggled to come up with just one reason.

It could have been the sheer relief of reaching the end of a hilly run on a warm and muggy Texas November morning.

It could have been the hormones.

It could have been the smiling faces and cheering voices of my family and friends as they greeted me at the finish line. Or the camaraderie of a new found friend and sister who could have finished much, much sooner if she had only left my side.


It could have been the waiting comfort and safety of my husband's arms, the way the world outside faded around us in a moment that was ours alone.

Followed by the sweet intrusion of the children, awakened early on a Sunday morning without complaint, whose unrestrained love fills my heart to bursting.

It could have been the fleeting sensation of accomplishment and control, a buoy in a sea of discouragement and helplessness. The tiny glimmer of hope that truly anything is possible.

It could have been the emotion evoked in consideration of the purpose of this race, of the lives lost, of the families touched, of the battles waged and being waged still. The stories swirling all around me in an ocean of pink, festive and sober, the faces of those running in celebration and of those running in memory.

It could have been my own thoughts of one woman, one person in the long line of persons without whom I do not exist, the grandmother it was not my privilege to know. Had this particular disease not taken her, how many more years might she have had? Enough to see her youngest son become a man? Enough to meet the vivacious girl who would become his wife? Enough to have regaled his children with her wit? Would she have looked into my face and seen herself reflected there? As I see myself reflected in hers?

As I ran my race, these thoughts ran with me. Wondering. Dreaming. Wishing.

So, why did I cry?

How could I not?

Ups and downs (and downs)

After two straight weeks of feeling pretty good about myself, I was bound to have a week like last week. I started it off pretty excited, pleased with my long run (4 miles) and my mastering (ha!) of the weekly 3 mile runs. I hit the gym on Tuesday for my 3 miles and I don't know what happened. It was just... blah. I did not enjoy myself. I did my miles, but it didn't feel good. I felt no mastery. And this bummed me out a little. Because most of all, I want to find the joy.

On Thursday, I got stuck at work late, missed my lunch and missed my regular run time. My husband was kind enough to ferry the children to their various after-school activities so I could get my run in. Truthfully, I was excited about it. Work had been stressful and I was eager to take my frustrations out on the pavement. However, the relief and exhilaration I was expecting did not come. My neighborhood route had some rolling hills that wore me out and on the way back I found myself running into a gusty wind. I was winded, overheated, and felt like I was barely moving. It was all I could do just to finish the stupid run. It blew.

This run really affected me. I had expected so much more.

On Saturday, my husband and I took the opportunity to run together at a park near our house. The boy was at practice and we brought the girl along with her bike. I did not want to run. Still feeling the disappointment from my weekday runs, I had no motivation. Out on the trail, things did not improve. Surely my attitude bears a great responsibility. It was just hard. I felt slow, breathless, confused about why the first mile is still so miserable. During that first mile, I fought back tears and an overwhelming desire to sit my butt down on the trail and give up. Give up the run, give up running. Give up the half marathon. My impossible and ridiculous goal.

I didn't sit.

I did cry.

Though stubbornly refusing to listen to my husband's advice about my breathing, I kept my feet moving. The welling despair was (somewhat) quelled. We finished the run. My attitude did not improve. We had a time constraint, so we didn't even get in all 3 miles. This, along with my performance, felt like failure.

Blurgh.

And... [deep breath in].... [deep breath out]....

Every week is a new beginning. Every day a fresh start. And there are goals that shouldn't be backed out of. No matter how ridiculous.

I ran on Monday. 3 miles. It was good. I found a some joy.

And... [deep breath in].... [deep breath out]....

This Sunday, I will be running my first 5K race.

It's good to have goals

I'm a little late with my training update for last week. Here's the brief recap:

• Sunday, 10/23 - missed the group run (and hats off to Hannah and Michelle for braving the muggy afternoon heat to get their 6 miles in! That's commitment.)
  
• Monday, 10/24 - 3 miles at the track, no walking
  
• Tuesday 10/25 - weight training (squats, lunges, calf raises, bicep curls, abs, shoulder press, chest press, tricep kickbacks, etc.)
  
• Wednesday, 10/26 - 3 miles at the track, 30 sec walk breaks after miles 1 & 2
• Thursday, 10/27 - Tacodeli (I know... not technically training)
  
• Friday, 10/28 - 3 miles at the trail, 1 walk break
• Sunday, 10/30 - 4 miles at the trail with the group (I only walked a couple of times - once on the crazy hill and once when I stopped to take off my long-sleeved shirt. Oh yeah, and once on the spiral ramp on the Pfluger bridge. So, 3 times.) I spent most of this group run trailing the rest of the group, but for a brief number of minutes, due to a navigation error on the front runners' part, I found myself in the lead! I know it was not a legitimate lead, and we are absolutely NOT competing with one another, but I couldn't help being pleased, thinking, "I'm winning! I'm winning!" And then they all passed me. Ah, well.
  

And now about the goals...

3 miles is my current theme. When I head to the gym (or trail) during the week, 3 miles is the goal. Secondary to the 3 mile goal is to do the 3 miles without any walk breaks. Sometimes I am successful, sometimes I am not.

Related to the subject of goals, my trainer has shared with me in the past that I should have three goals for the half marathon: 1) to finish, 2) to do my best, and 3) to finish well. And that I should be satisfied to meet the basic goal of finishing.

That being said, let me share with you my secondary goal beyond simply finishing -- what, for me, I would consider to be "finishing well." I think it's ambitious, and I am hesitant to share it out loud, but here it is:

I want to run the half marathon. That's it. I just think it would be super cool.

But on days like today, when running the 3 miles at the track was a torturous exercise in self-denial, and I did stop to walk, I think it is a crazy goal. Me? Run for 2½+ hours? Ha!

But then I remember (and my trainer faithfully reminds me) that 3 months ago I could not run even one mile, could not run for more than a mere 2 minutes at a time. And yet somehow here I am now, at a point where I can run for 35-40 minutes without stopping.

Which makes me realize .... anything is possible.