I think I have talked briefly before about how seeing family age and wither away has been a huge motivator for my running and seeking better overall health as I stare down middle age in the not too distant future. I have also talked about how I seek out stories of seniors that are beating the odds when it comes to avoiding the rust that often sets in when they sit in the chair in their living room, or the front porch. There are so many stories out there when you start looking and paying attention and they are so inspiring! No matter what age you choose to start, as long as you are still breathing, it seems your body and health can improve.
Researchers that actually study senior citizens and health improvement beyond taking pills are proving this more and more. The unfortunate thing is that studies have been slow to occur in this field because there isn't a whole lot of money in this area but with the ever aging population and the strain that this is going to be on governments that are taking on more and more of these elderly patients with longer life spans due to medical interventions, people are waking up and admitting there needs to be a better way.
I was a lucky kid in that I grew up in a home with not just one grandma, but two. Starting at the age of six, I lived with both my grandma and my great grandma.
Looking back to my earliest memory of my great grandma, I see her sitting in her chair. Four different houses over the years and the scene never changes. When she walked, she shuffled from one place to another and I can still hear the sound her slippers made against the wood floors. Her back had what my grandma, her daughter, called the "widow's hump." I have a picture of her from her high school days of her and her girls' baseball team. This sort of shocked me when I first saw it. An image of my grandma as a young woman, running and playing a sport, is hard for me to imagine.
When she died in her late 80's, in a nursing home once she needed 24 hour care, my family was told by the doctor in the nursing home that she was on so many pills she was almost a drug addict, along with suffering from type 2 diabetes.
I think of her final years, sitting in her chair, watching her t.v programs, waiting for the mail or one of her grandkids to play a card game with her, and I am sad for her.
Now her daughter, my other grandma, is continuing on her same path. We get into weekly discussions on her aches and pains. She laments to me on how she will need a wheelchair at the airport when she comes to visit us because the distance between the terminals and the security check point are so long.
She is suffering from arthritis in her shoulders and she is convinced it is from her high school years of twirling baton. She tells me my running will ruin my knees and when I told her I completed a half marathon her response was simply "Oh my god." Her belief is that exercise will eventually lead to pain and bodily damage in the end.
Nana, I tell her, you have got to move, you have to go for a walk everyday, lift some one pound weights to which she responds, "Oh, honey, this is just old age."
She won't listen when I talk to her about the research proving that activity is the best treatment for her arthritis, instead she downs Aleve on a daily basis.
I am not in her doctors' offices with her, so of course I am not sure what they are prescribing for her aches and pains, it is highly possible they are trying to encourage her to get up and move. She has no major injuries or disorders to prevent this, but if they aren't, I really wish they would!
I wish we would get past this idea that old age equals lack of ability to move, the necessity for motorize carts at the grocery store and a hurry cane.
There is a common phrase used among the horse rescue community that "old age doesn't equal skinny!" it is an attempt to dispel the myth that once a horse hits their late teens and into their 20's that being skinny is just part and parcel of being an old horse when in actuality, being underweight does mean is that he most likely has dental issues that need to be taken care of, or an overload of parasites. Sway backs are a symptom of being ridden with the horse in an improper carriage, with a high head, hollowed back and abs not engaged and carrying the horse, again, not a sign of old age.
I wish that we could make it a campaign to dispel the myth of old age in humans equaling the inability to walk from one end of a shopping mall to the next.
I don't want my boys to fear old age, I want them to see their mom and dad hiking the Pacific Crest Trail and running ultra marathoners long into their "twilight" years (and while we're at it can we get rid of that phrase, too!)
Now just to get my husband on the same page.
A 30 something mom's first time journey into the world of long distance running.
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Monday, November 21, 2016
Is Strong Really The New Skinny?
I was on the stair climber yesterday, that mind numbing machine that tries to inspire you to climb higher and faster by putting various buildings and monuments around the world. To beat back the boredom I picked up the equally mind numbing magazine, Shape, because of a certain celebrity on the cover that I was interested in reading about.
As I flipped past page after page of makeup ads and articles on how to get a certain look, how to get an awesome butt, shoulders that look good in strapless dresses, recipes to help you lose weight, all just to get to a two page article on a celebrity that was really only in there to sell her clothing line of "active wear" and swim suits that look like they are best for laying by the pool and not swimming laps or playing at the water park with your kids (these types of suits made very difficult to find by the way,) the saying "strong is the new skinny" popped into my head.
Years ago, as a newly married 19 year old, I had subscribed to this magazine, and as I look back I realize "strong" was never a word I aspired to. Nor was the idea of living a life of fitness and good health well into my senior years.
All I wanted to, all I was programmed to want, was to look good. If this meant eating as little as possible to achieve that then I would do it. Exercise was just to get me that look, just like the magazines promised. Do this exercise and you will have the perfect butt, find out what celebrity X does to have those abs. It was just a bombardment of how females needed to LOOK.
I started to really reflect on this, to wonder why I grew up needing to "look" a certain way (although like the majority of women I never actually did achieve that look.) In my introspection, I recalled all the fashion magazines that filled my childhood home.
Gaunt, forever 21 and forever hungry, wearing clothes I would never be able to afford, adorned with makeup I would never have the time to apply, were the females that always stared back at me. Subconsciously these images melded into being, convincing me that this is the ideal female, this is who I should be.
I never tried very hard to live up to this, don't let me fool you into thinking I became a fashionista that never left the house without perfect hair and makeup! Far from it, I actually did more of the opposite, partly due to my 6 foot frame and the difficulty in finding clothes that comfortably fit and partly due to my bank account that could never maintain that sort of a lifestyle, especially once kids came into the picture, but the bigger reasoning was I never felt like I could become that ideal woman in the magazines.
It was an ideal too hard to attain. Every picture ever taken of me, I analyzed like a scientist searching through strands of DNA. I quickly ascertained that I was not picture material, so I avoided them all together. I ducked away from cameras pointed in my direction every chance I got.
Fast forward to life with little boys and I knew that no way, no how, would my boys grow up looking at unrealistic images of women. I was thankful for grocery stores that offered "family friendly" aisles that little people wouldn't be eye level with cleavage and magazines entitled "have eye popping sex tonight!"
I felt vindicated in my thinking on this subject when my oldest was around six years old, after seeing the cover of a magazine with a woman in a short skirt and plunging neckline, as we stood in line at Barnes and Noble, he asked me "why do ladies sometimes dress like they are naked?" I shrugged and said I wasn't sure, but a few years later we discussed how some ladies think that is what makes them pretty and what they think men want to see, and how movies and magazines teach a lot of girls that their worth is in what they look like.
I am not naive enough to ignore the fact that males are very visual beings and my boys eyes' aren't ever going to be drawn to cleavage and short skirts with bleached hair and overdone makeup, but I do hope they have been brought up to look for healthy and active, like they have been raised, for their future life partners.
Reading the book "Natural Born Heroes" really brought home the idea that our bodies, both male and female should be healthy and strong, for good purposes. For survival, for war, for the simple facts of enjoying life to its fullest! There is so much world out there to be explored, trails to be run (or walked) national parks to be explored, even if you aren't an outdoors person, museums and malls with miles of stores and art are there to be enjoyed and walked.
I don't believe we are doing an adequate enough job of changing the narrative for our young people to strong is, and SHOULD be, the new skinny. I think we're getting closer, with the sudden explosion in spartan races and other types of events like tough mudder, but with as many of those that are gaining in popularity, Kardashian type lifestyles are gaining followers by the millions on instagram. How to get the "thigh gap," overinflated lips, and oddly shaped derrières are still a hot topic in magazines that target young women. Young men are still being bombarded with six pack abs and biceps really not serving any purpose other than to flex in the mirror while posing for a selfie, as the ideal man.
We need to impress upon our young people that having a healthy body that can get us from point A to point B, should be our goal. Filling our vehicle (our bodies) with foods to adequately fuel us and keep us healthy. Finding role models, both real life and those in the spotlight.
For my sons, their karate instructor who is almost 80 years old, still strong and nimble and still working at his landscaping job as well as teaching martial arts several times a week, is someone I point them to when we talk about a long life of fitness and health. Michael Phelps, an idol of my son that swims competitively, is an example of a strong, healthy body that is utilitarian, not just chiseled to grace the cover of a magazine.
For myself, I look to people well into their 70's and even in their 80's, still running marathons and Iron Man races. Even 100 mile ultra runs. Our bodies are amazing works of art, given to us to enjoy life to its fullest, climbing mountains, swimming oceans, biking through countrysides or exploring city streets. They is so much more to living than looking good in a selfie in clothes made for mannequins! The only way to get this message across to our kids is to really get serious about teaching them that strong and healthy, not skinny, is a lifelong endeavor.
It's definitely the message I wish I had learned long ago.
As I flipped past page after page of makeup ads and articles on how to get a certain look, how to get an awesome butt, shoulders that look good in strapless dresses, recipes to help you lose weight, all just to get to a two page article on a celebrity that was really only in there to sell her clothing line of "active wear" and swim suits that look like they are best for laying by the pool and not swimming laps or playing at the water park with your kids (these types of suits made very difficult to find by the way,) the saying "strong is the new skinny" popped into my head.
Years ago, as a newly married 19 year old, I had subscribed to this magazine, and as I look back I realize "strong" was never a word I aspired to. Nor was the idea of living a life of fitness and good health well into my senior years.
All I wanted to, all I was programmed to want, was to look good. If this meant eating as little as possible to achieve that then I would do it. Exercise was just to get me that look, just like the magazines promised. Do this exercise and you will have the perfect butt, find out what celebrity X does to have those abs. It was just a bombardment of how females needed to LOOK.
I started to really reflect on this, to wonder why I grew up needing to "look" a certain way (although like the majority of women I never actually did achieve that look.) In my introspection, I recalled all the fashion magazines that filled my childhood home.
Gaunt, forever 21 and forever hungry, wearing clothes I would never be able to afford, adorned with makeup I would never have the time to apply, were the females that always stared back at me. Subconsciously these images melded into being, convincing me that this is the ideal female, this is who I should be.
I never tried very hard to live up to this, don't let me fool you into thinking I became a fashionista that never left the house without perfect hair and makeup! Far from it, I actually did more of the opposite, partly due to my 6 foot frame and the difficulty in finding clothes that comfortably fit and partly due to my bank account that could never maintain that sort of a lifestyle, especially once kids came into the picture, but the bigger reasoning was I never felt like I could become that ideal woman in the magazines.
It was an ideal too hard to attain. Every picture ever taken of me, I analyzed like a scientist searching through strands of DNA. I quickly ascertained that I was not picture material, so I avoided them all together. I ducked away from cameras pointed in my direction every chance I got.
Fast forward to life with little boys and I knew that no way, no how, would my boys grow up looking at unrealistic images of women. I was thankful for grocery stores that offered "family friendly" aisles that little people wouldn't be eye level with cleavage and magazines entitled "have eye popping sex tonight!"
I felt vindicated in my thinking on this subject when my oldest was around six years old, after seeing the cover of a magazine with a woman in a short skirt and plunging neckline, as we stood in line at Barnes and Noble, he asked me "why do ladies sometimes dress like they are naked?" I shrugged and said I wasn't sure, but a few years later we discussed how some ladies think that is what makes them pretty and what they think men want to see, and how movies and magazines teach a lot of girls that their worth is in what they look like.
I am not naive enough to ignore the fact that males are very visual beings and my boys eyes' aren't ever going to be drawn to cleavage and short skirts with bleached hair and overdone makeup, but I do hope they have been brought up to look for healthy and active, like they have been raised, for their future life partners.
Reading the book "Natural Born Heroes" really brought home the idea that our bodies, both male and female should be healthy and strong, for good purposes. For survival, for war, for the simple facts of enjoying life to its fullest! There is so much world out there to be explored, trails to be run (or walked) national parks to be explored, even if you aren't an outdoors person, museums and malls with miles of stores and art are there to be enjoyed and walked.
I don't believe we are doing an adequate enough job of changing the narrative for our young people to strong is, and SHOULD be, the new skinny. I think we're getting closer, with the sudden explosion in spartan races and other types of events like tough mudder, but with as many of those that are gaining in popularity, Kardashian type lifestyles are gaining followers by the millions on instagram. How to get the "thigh gap," overinflated lips, and oddly shaped derrières are still a hot topic in magazines that target young women. Young men are still being bombarded with six pack abs and biceps really not serving any purpose other than to flex in the mirror while posing for a selfie, as the ideal man.
We need to impress upon our young people that having a healthy body that can get us from point A to point B, should be our goal. Filling our vehicle (our bodies) with foods to adequately fuel us and keep us healthy. Finding role models, both real life and those in the spotlight.
For my sons, their karate instructor who is almost 80 years old, still strong and nimble and still working at his landscaping job as well as teaching martial arts several times a week, is someone I point them to when we talk about a long life of fitness and health. Michael Phelps, an idol of my son that swims competitively, is an example of a strong, healthy body that is utilitarian, not just chiseled to grace the cover of a magazine.
For myself, I look to people well into their 70's and even in their 80's, still running marathons and Iron Man races. Even 100 mile ultra runs. Our bodies are amazing works of art, given to us to enjoy life to its fullest, climbing mountains, swimming oceans, biking through countrysides or exploring city streets. They is so much more to living than looking good in a selfie in clothes made for mannequins! The only way to get this message across to our kids is to really get serious about teaching them that strong and healthy, not skinny, is a lifelong endeavor.
It's definitely the message I wish I had learned long ago.
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
Running Partners
First of all, if anyone actually reads my blog I apologize for what a mess it is. I used to blog all the time a few years ago but blogger has changed, my laptop is old and slow so I typically write posts on my phone and I have yet to figure out how to post pictures. It let me post a couple and then not again so hopefully I will figure that out soon enough. I hate reading blogs without pics, so I know how boring that is. Running on the prairie is not all that scenic but once in awhile I manage to snag a deceptive picture to trick people into thinking the place is somewhat scenic. Can anyone tell I want to move back home?
One thing I didn't really expect when I mentioned my runs on Facebook was that people would actually be inspired to run. I've never seen myself as the type to inspire people so this was kind of a surprise.
I told everyone that mentioned it that I was happy to run with them if they wanted to get together and one friend finally took me up on it. She needed to meet pretty early, when it was still dark! But I went ahead and got my butt out of bed anyway. By our second run together, our sons had joined us!
One big positive that has come from our move is the amount exercise all of the family is getting now. My oldest son and running partner has joined the swim team and doing incredibly well, my youngest has taken up martial arts and bikes or walks every day with his dad to hatch Pokémon eggs and I have goaded my husband into running again so he is following a Hal Higdon 5K training plan.
Exercise is so good for everyone, our bodies were created to move, after all! So I am overjoyed that I might be the kick in the pants someone might need to get moving and get healthy. I keep telling everyone that last year I couldn't even make it to the end of our gravel road which is just about a quarter of a mile and now I can run a half marathon (albeit slowly!) so if I can do it, anyone can do it!
One thing I didn't really expect when I mentioned my runs on Facebook was that people would actually be inspired to run. I've never seen myself as the type to inspire people so this was kind of a surprise.
I told everyone that mentioned it that I was happy to run with them if they wanted to get together and one friend finally took me up on it. She needed to meet pretty early, when it was still dark! But I went ahead and got my butt out of bed anyway. By our second run together, our sons had joined us!
One big positive that has come from our move is the amount exercise all of the family is getting now. My oldest son and running partner has joined the swim team and doing incredibly well, my youngest has taken up martial arts and bikes or walks every day with his dad to hatch Pokémon eggs and I have goaded my husband into running again so he is following a Hal Higdon 5K training plan.
Exercise is so good for everyone, our bodies were created to move, after all! So I am overjoyed that I might be the kick in the pants someone might need to get moving and get healthy. I keep telling everyone that last year I couldn't even make it to the end of our gravel road which is just about a quarter of a mile and now I can run a half marathon (albeit slowly!) so if I can do it, anyone can do it!
Monday, November 7, 2016
Runners that cheat
I first heard about people that actually cheat in marathons and other similar distance races in Runners World a few months back. What a bizarre concept! Why in the world would someone cheat in a race? I guess I see WHY pro athletes cheat when it comes to bettering themselves to keep their jobs, I don't think it is necessarily right of course, but isn't running races about self improvement and health? What satisfaction do you get by finishing a race by cutting through the course, or signing up for a marathon but actually running the half?
Another way people cheat is to buy the bib of a runner that qualifies for Boston, or have someone faster then you wear your bib in a Boston qualifier. I just don't understand the psychology behind this.
Cheating is so common that they have actual committees that watch for it, studying previous times in races, whether times registered from their bibs when they crossed mats (if they didn't this is a good sign they cut through the course somewhere) sometimes they even need to look through race pics to look for cheaters. The first time I read about cheaters was a story about a man that the race committee noticed in a finish line pic. He wasn't in the best physical shape but he crossed the finish line looking pretty darn good, in a cotton t shirt with nary a sweat stain! Just that picture alone piqued the interest of the race committee and sure enough, they did some digging and found that not only was he a repeat offender in the cheating department but he also wrote checks that bounced for multiple races. I would love to know his reasoning behind this. Was it a good story to post on his Match.com profile?
Here's a blog that is dedicated strictly to catching and researching these cheaters. I appreciate people that dedicate time for outing these people, hopefully it deters others that might consider doing this. Training for a race takes literal blood, sweat and tears and to see others take places in races that one must qualify for, or lie about their age to earn records, use others bibs to run races they didn't qualify for, it really and truly is a disgrace and these people should be ashamed of themselves.
Another way people cheat is to buy the bib of a runner that qualifies for Boston, or have someone faster then you wear your bib in a Boston qualifier. I just don't understand the psychology behind this.
Cheating is so common that they have actual committees that watch for it, studying previous times in races, whether times registered from their bibs when they crossed mats (if they didn't this is a good sign they cut through the course somewhere) sometimes they even need to look through race pics to look for cheaters. The first time I read about cheaters was a story about a man that the race committee noticed in a finish line pic. He wasn't in the best physical shape but he crossed the finish line looking pretty darn good, in a cotton t shirt with nary a sweat stain! Just that picture alone piqued the interest of the race committee and sure enough, they did some digging and found that not only was he a repeat offender in the cheating department but he also wrote checks that bounced for multiple races. I would love to know his reasoning behind this. Was it a good story to post on his Match.com profile?
Here's a blog that is dedicated strictly to catching and researching these cheaters. I appreciate people that dedicate time for outing these people, hopefully it deters others that might consider doing this. Training for a race takes literal blood, sweat and tears and to see others take places in races that one must qualify for, or lie about their age to earn records, use others bibs to run races they didn't qualify for, it really and truly is a disgrace and these people should be ashamed of themselves.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Diet and workouts other than (gasp) running.
When I followed the Hal Higdon Half marathon training plan, I didn't deviate it from it one iota. I was so overwhelmed by the mileage and the thought of actually sticking to the plan that I was fearful of adding anything to my days.
After the half when my knee hurt so bad for several days, I knew I needed to add strength training into my workouts. At the gym I use the machines for the quad and hamstring strengthening, at home I do exercises I learned on a Pilates DVD from a decade ago to strengthen the psoas, and I try to swim a couple times a week.
There's really no schedule set in stone with me. I would probably be in better shape if there was! I am just of the mindset that fitting it in when I can is better than nothing. I would also love to be in a place where the weather was more consistent to allow for more outdoor exercise. If it isn't the wind, then it's the swarms of mosquitoes, miserable heat or miserable cold. I would really like to just deal with one negative, maybe rain, or heat, but that requires moving. Sigh.
As far as diet, I try really hard to not be on my typical see-food diet, I see it and I eat it. Two years ago, after mocking everyone on the gluten free diet and rolling my eyes at this "fad diet" that I figured would be out of fashion soon enough, I read the Wheat Belly Diet and was shocked to see I had many of the issues they listed off for people that were gluten intolerant; stomach aches (every morning!) acne well into my thirties, itchy skin, bloated stomach. I gave the Wheat Belly Diet a try and the difference in how I felt was almost immediate. It wasn't too long after that I gave the Whole 30 Diet a try. I gave up dairy, wheat, beans, rice and all sugar except in fruit. It was torturous, but what wheat removal didn't do, being dairy free did. My dark circles under my eyes went away completely and I lost 15 pounds but it was so restrictive I couldn't keep it up. Moving to the area we now live in made eating healthfully outside of the house very difficult and I have sort have gone back to my old, bad ways of eating.
Running has helped me stay on track as best I can, waking up after an evening of pizza to go for a run is out of the question, and once you've gone on a long run and feel good, it makes it easier to make healthy meal choices. I suppose some people think if they exercise they have an excuse for bad food choices but I feel the opposite. Except for my lattes, those are fuel for my runs!
Basically with my running I have wanted to make a full, permanent lifestyle change. Exercise and the foods we eat to fuel our body should go hand in hand for life and it is difficult to have good health without both.
After the half when my knee hurt so bad for several days, I knew I needed to add strength training into my workouts. At the gym I use the machines for the quad and hamstring strengthening, at home I do exercises I learned on a Pilates DVD from a decade ago to strengthen the psoas, and I try to swim a couple times a week.
There's really no schedule set in stone with me. I would probably be in better shape if there was! I am just of the mindset that fitting it in when I can is better than nothing. I would also love to be in a place where the weather was more consistent to allow for more outdoor exercise. If it isn't the wind, then it's the swarms of mosquitoes, miserable heat or miserable cold. I would really like to just deal with one negative, maybe rain, or heat, but that requires moving. Sigh.
As far as diet, I try really hard to not be on my typical see-food diet, I see it and I eat it. Two years ago, after mocking everyone on the gluten free diet and rolling my eyes at this "fad diet" that I figured would be out of fashion soon enough, I read the Wheat Belly Diet and was shocked to see I had many of the issues they listed off for people that were gluten intolerant; stomach aches (every morning!) acne well into my thirties, itchy skin, bloated stomach. I gave the Wheat Belly Diet a try and the difference in how I felt was almost immediate. It wasn't too long after that I gave the Whole 30 Diet a try. I gave up dairy, wheat, beans, rice and all sugar except in fruit. It was torturous, but what wheat removal didn't do, being dairy free did. My dark circles under my eyes went away completely and I lost 15 pounds but it was so restrictive I couldn't keep it up. Moving to the area we now live in made eating healthfully outside of the house very difficult and I have sort have gone back to my old, bad ways of eating.
Running has helped me stay on track as best I can, waking up after an evening of pizza to go for a run is out of the question, and once you've gone on a long run and feel good, it makes it easier to make healthy meal choices. I suppose some people think if they exercise they have an excuse for bad food choices but I feel the opposite. Except for my lattes, those are fuel for my runs!
Basically with my running I have wanted to make a full, permanent lifestyle change. Exercise and the foods we eat to fuel our body should go hand in hand for life and it is difficult to have good health without both.
Friday, October 21, 2016
New Shoes!
I am really impressed by people that keep track of the mileage on their shoes, how do they do that? A training log? Their memory is just that good? Whatever it is, I didn't do that with my last ones and based on the holes I was creating with my big toe, it probably had a good many on them!
Back home we had a running store in town, Fairhaven Runners how I miss you! They watched you walk, watched you run, evaluated your stride, brought out the shoes they recommended and had you run outside in them to try them out. Here on the prairie? Yeah, no such store.
On top of that, I was making way too big a deal selecting a brand and style this time around, mostly because I feel like I am more of an actual runner while before I was just a casual jogger. I mean, I have actual running socks so that must mean I getting pretty serious, right?
Since I have been trying to get to the whole minimalist running feel, I knew I at least wanted shoes that mimicked the Luna Sandals. Altras were recommended to me by the lady I met that ran the Leadville, if they will hold up for a 100 mile of tough mountain trails they must be worth trying out. I was thrilled to read the story on them; wide toe box and zero drop heel developed by a family that had a running store and realized that feet needed to replicate the barefoot stride inside a shoe as closely as possible. The outdoor store in town just started carrying Altras and had two trail types to choose from, the Lone Peak had the best fit, and yes I had to get the men's because they don't have my size in women's. I have big feet.
I like that they give me lots of space for my toes and enough cushion for my foot that I don't feel the stab of every rock down the drive but still minimalist enough that if I am heel landing too much I can feel the jarring up nearly into my teeth and I am reminded to correct my stride and lighten up on the landing. I heel strike pretty bad going downhill, but maybe that is because I run hills so rarely, note to self; run more hills.
So far my longest run in them has been five miles on the treadmill, I told you I have been slacking off. Today I ran an actual trail, with varied terrain and rocks to deal with, other than feeling I was slipping too much in the shoes themselves, as in my foot within the shoe, when going downhill, they held up well enough and I don't have a lot of complaints. The grip on the ground was fine, but the real test will be when the ground is damp and slick. With the clay footing around here, it makes running in the winter outdoors (when it isn't in the negatives and the wind isn't blowing) even less appealing.
The even bigger test will be the long runs, whenever those happen again.
Back home we had a running store in town, Fairhaven Runners how I miss you! They watched you walk, watched you run, evaluated your stride, brought out the shoes they recommended and had you run outside in them to try them out. Here on the prairie? Yeah, no such store.
On top of that, I was making way too big a deal selecting a brand and style this time around, mostly because I feel like I am more of an actual runner while before I was just a casual jogger. I mean, I have actual running socks so that must mean I getting pretty serious, right?
Since I have been trying to get to the whole minimalist running feel, I knew I at least wanted shoes that mimicked the Luna Sandals. Altras were recommended to me by the lady I met that ran the Leadville, if they will hold up for a 100 mile of tough mountain trails they must be worth trying out. I was thrilled to read the story on them; wide toe box and zero drop heel developed by a family that had a running store and realized that feet needed to replicate the barefoot stride inside a shoe as closely as possible. The outdoor store in town just started carrying Altras and had two trail types to choose from, the Lone Peak had the best fit, and yes I had to get the men's because they don't have my size in women's. I have big feet.
I like that they give me lots of space for my toes and enough cushion for my foot that I don't feel the stab of every rock down the drive but still minimalist enough that if I am heel landing too much I can feel the jarring up nearly into my teeth and I am reminded to correct my stride and lighten up on the landing. I heel strike pretty bad going downhill, but maybe that is because I run hills so rarely, note to self; run more hills.
So far my longest run in them has been five miles on the treadmill, I told you I have been slacking off. Today I ran an actual trail, with varied terrain and rocks to deal with, other than feeling I was slipping too much in the shoes themselves, as in my foot within the shoe, when going downhill, they held up well enough and I don't have a lot of complaints. The grip on the ground was fine, but the real test will be when the ground is damp and slick. With the clay footing around here, it makes running in the winter outdoors (when it isn't in the negatives and the wind isn't blowing) even less appealing.
The even bigger test will be the long runs, whenever those happen again.
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
On being alone
I played sports in high school, not so much because I wanted to but because it seemed to be expected of me. I was tall, the tallest girl in my high school, so therefore my whole purpose in life seemed to be to play a sport that required tall people; volleyball and basketball and even the soccer coach came begging, saying I would make a fantastic goalie because I could take up so much of the goal with my long arms and legs. No, thanks to that one, Having people barreling towards me only to kick a ball at my face did seem not at all appealing in any shape or form. I did give in to the basketball coach and for a short time the volleyball coach and I look back on those years really not very fondly. I just didn't enjoy it, and it wasn't necessarily that I didn't enjoy the sport itself but rather the people I played with, nor did I really enjoy the coaches.
Everyone had an agenda, the players were hoping for scholarships, or the admiration of their peers, or the approval of their parents, the coaches were re living their high school playing days and hoping for a coaching spot on the next big team or a championship title. No one really seemed to be playing the games for the love of it in the moment.
There are those that say sports teach dedication and team work, okay I guess, but there are many things a young person can do that can teach that. In this day and age I would say quite possibly the best argument for team sports in high school would be the exercise, and that might quite be enough of an argument altogether.
Running is something I wished I had found as a teen, beyond the endless laps around the soccer field and the suicide lines we had to run at the end of practice. If not just for the exercise but the alone time it would have granted me. I find people overwhelming, always needing something that I cannot give them. As a female, it becomes very hard to be yourself with people when your genuine self is someone that walks about as open as a book as one can be. Often people that you come across in your day to day life don't want that, they don't want honesty about your rough day, they want uplifting Facebook memes and everything hashtagged blessing. They don't want to know you have an opinion differing from theirs, whether it be on religion, politics or where you want to live. Too many people create their false idols in their hometown, their Boy Scout groups or the way they think you should behave and become easily offended if you don't fall in line with the same way of thinking. Quiet and meek has never been something I could pull off very well and my self deprecating sarcasm seems to make a lot of people uncomfortable.
Running doesn't require anything from you, just shoes and clothes that don't enhance the chafe and you're off. I don't need a court, or a coach, I can just run. If I race, I am running against myself and not letting down a team if I have a bad run. It's easier to get over a slower time than you expected when the "we are only as strong as our weakest link" isn't in affect.
You can run without an agenda, run alone without judgement. No relying on a teammate to kick a ball back at you or a horse to be sound and ready to go.
The louder life gets, whether it be at work or just reading social media for 15 minutes, the more I see a need for being alone, no pressure from outside voices. Just the freedom of feeling ground rise up to meet each step, fast or slow, it's always there, waiting patiently for you.
Everyone had an agenda, the players were hoping for scholarships, or the admiration of their peers, or the approval of their parents, the coaches were re living their high school playing days and hoping for a coaching spot on the next big team or a championship title. No one really seemed to be playing the games for the love of it in the moment.
There are those that say sports teach dedication and team work, okay I guess, but there are many things a young person can do that can teach that. In this day and age I would say quite possibly the best argument for team sports in high school would be the exercise, and that might quite be enough of an argument altogether.
Running is something I wished I had found as a teen, beyond the endless laps around the soccer field and the suicide lines we had to run at the end of practice. If not just for the exercise but the alone time it would have granted me. I find people overwhelming, always needing something that I cannot give them. As a female, it becomes very hard to be yourself with people when your genuine self is someone that walks about as open as a book as one can be. Often people that you come across in your day to day life don't want that, they don't want honesty about your rough day, they want uplifting Facebook memes and everything hashtagged blessing. They don't want to know you have an opinion differing from theirs, whether it be on religion, politics or where you want to live. Too many people create their false idols in their hometown, their Boy Scout groups or the way they think you should behave and become easily offended if you don't fall in line with the same way of thinking. Quiet and meek has never been something I could pull off very well and my self deprecating sarcasm seems to make a lot of people uncomfortable.
Running doesn't require anything from you, just shoes and clothes that don't enhance the chafe and you're off. I don't need a court, or a coach, I can just run. If I race, I am running against myself and not letting down a team if I have a bad run. It's easier to get over a slower time than you expected when the "we are only as strong as our weakest link" isn't in affect.
You can run without an agenda, run alone without judgement. No relying on a teammate to kick a ball back at you or a horse to be sound and ready to go.
The louder life gets, whether it be at work or just reading social media for 15 minutes, the more I see a need for being alone, no pressure from outside voices. Just the freedom of feeling ground rise up to meet each step, fast or slow, it's always there, waiting patiently for you.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Trying to get my mojo back
I am watching big snow flakes come down right now, after a warm sunny day yesterday, a twenty degree drop in just an hour; welcome to Montana! Blah!
One of my issues with keeping up with running back in Washington was the rain and I know here it will be the wind and snow. I don't know how dedicated I can be to the treadmill, it's just so boring!
Since September 10th, the half marathon, the farthest I have run is five miles. Mainly out of boredom, I know this. I need some mental training along with physical, something beyond just kicking my butt. I need a mental kick, too! Finding a running partner would be ideal, but the husband nor the kids are interested. I don't have an addictive personality, unless you count coffee, so that's against me in the must not stop running department. I follow lots of trail runners on Instagram for inspiration but they are always posting awesome adventures in beautiful places, which inspires me to someday go and run these places but being that I am on the prairie right now, and at least a three hour drive from any great trails to run safely, that kind of negates the inspiration NOW that I was hoping for. The running groups in town seem to mainly consist of diehard runners that run 6 and 7 minute miles and require me to make a third trip into town anyway, so that's off the table for the time being.
Until I get inspired again, I need to just run my short three and a half mile runs, just so I am at least doing something, this much I have figured out. Just keep on moving and doing!
One of my issues with keeping up with running back in Washington was the rain and I know here it will be the wind and snow. I don't know how dedicated I can be to the treadmill, it's just so boring!
Since September 10th, the half marathon, the farthest I have run is five miles. Mainly out of boredom, I know this. I need some mental training along with physical, something beyond just kicking my butt. I need a mental kick, too! Finding a running partner would be ideal, but the husband nor the kids are interested. I don't have an addictive personality, unless you count coffee, so that's against me in the must not stop running department. I follow lots of trail runners on Instagram for inspiration but they are always posting awesome adventures in beautiful places, which inspires me to someday go and run these places but being that I am on the prairie right now, and at least a three hour drive from any great trails to run safely, that kind of negates the inspiration NOW that I was hoping for. The running groups in town seem to mainly consist of diehard runners that run 6 and 7 minute miles and require me to make a third trip into town anyway, so that's off the table for the time being.
Until I get inspired again, I need to just run my short three and a half mile runs, just so I am at least doing something, this much I have figured out. Just keep on moving and doing!
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Well, I did it.
I tried really hard to get out of it, I told my husband and kids I would just go run the route they posted on line and save the $84 dollars, but that didn't go over very well, as one might imagine. So begrudgingly I signed up, picked up my race pack, and dragged myself out of bed at 5am to make sure I had breakfast digested before the starting gun.
My husband and our boys all went to cheer me on and I fretted about how long this would take me, leaving them to wander the park in the early morning hours. It was a small group, 60 something runners. I discovered what I pretty much already knew, that I hate road races.
Having not run the full half marathon distance of 13.1 miles following the Hal Higdon plan, I ran slow, telling myself I just wanted to finish, not beat anyone or run some awesome time, but it was still defeating to be passed by so many people, and even more so when the really fast ones have hit the turn around point and start passing you going the other way. For some reason my breath gets out of whack in the beginning of races I feel like I am hyperventilating. That, mixed with the wind that is typical in this area, made it feel like I was running with a parachute on and slowed me down significantly.
I was so fortunate to have made a Facebook friend that had just run the Leadville 100 in Colorado and she showed me how to tape my toes and other spots that were being rubbed raw, unfortunately the toe I wrapped rubbed against another toe, creating a disgusting blister that I felt starting at mile 6.
By mile 11 I had to hit the bathroom in the worst way and couldn't put it off any longer when I came upon a restroom right along the trail. It was probably the fasted pee break of my life but it was enough time to let five more people creep past me. I had nothing left beyond a survival pace so there was no way I was getting my spot back. I was ready to walk, and fighting it with every fiber of my being.
Right before mile 12, I thought I was going to puke. This is not good, what a wimp am I if I was puking after only 12 miles. Fortunately I managed to avoid it and started taking short walk breaks. At mile 13, another runner caught up to me and she became my half marathon angel. She asked if wanted to run to the next water station together and then finish the race. She had raced a half before but thanks to a blister at 4 miles she ended up waking the rest of the race for the most part. Her goal for this race was to just keep moving. That sounded good to me! My goal was to just not go to the hospital.
We made it, bit by bit. She urged me on when I stopped and I urged her on when she stopped. We both crossed the finish line at 2 hours and 30 Minutes, my boys ran the last .1 mile with me and I resisted the urge to just lay on the ground and go to sleep.
My split time was 11.32. Okay, nothing to brag about. Had I not stopped to go to the bathroom and been better prepared to run against the wind for half of the race, I could have done a little better, but hey, I did it. I got a medal! And I showed my kids I could set a goal and follow through, and 36 years old doesn't need to mean "I'm old and slow!" I sure wasn't fit enough in my early 20's to run 13 miles, even though I was considerably skinnier.
The downside was my knee hurt for almost a week after and I still have barely returned to running, with this Saturday being two weeks since the race. I have run a few short sessions on the treadmill and swam laps at the pool so I am not completely giving up on working out. Tomorrow I plan on starting the next one, whether it's the 50k or a marathon plan I am not sure which one to work towards.
Whatever I decide, onward I will run.
My husband and our boys all went to cheer me on and I fretted about how long this would take me, leaving them to wander the park in the early morning hours. It was a small group, 60 something runners. I discovered what I pretty much already knew, that I hate road races.
Having not run the full half marathon distance of 13.1 miles following the Hal Higdon plan, I ran slow, telling myself I just wanted to finish, not beat anyone or run some awesome time, but it was still defeating to be passed by so many people, and even more so when the really fast ones have hit the turn around point and start passing you going the other way. For some reason my breath gets out of whack in the beginning of races I feel like I am hyperventilating. That, mixed with the wind that is typical in this area, made it feel like I was running with a parachute on and slowed me down significantly.
I was so fortunate to have made a Facebook friend that had just run the Leadville 100 in Colorado and she showed me how to tape my toes and other spots that were being rubbed raw, unfortunately the toe I wrapped rubbed against another toe, creating a disgusting blister that I felt starting at mile 6.
By mile 11 I had to hit the bathroom in the worst way and couldn't put it off any longer when I came upon a restroom right along the trail. It was probably the fasted pee break of my life but it was enough time to let five more people creep past me. I had nothing left beyond a survival pace so there was no way I was getting my spot back. I was ready to walk, and fighting it with every fiber of my being.
Right before mile 12, I thought I was going to puke. This is not good, what a wimp am I if I was puking after only 12 miles. Fortunately I managed to avoid it and started taking short walk breaks. At mile 13, another runner caught up to me and she became my half marathon angel. She asked if wanted to run to the next water station together and then finish the race. She had raced a half before but thanks to a blister at 4 miles she ended up waking the rest of the race for the most part. Her goal for this race was to just keep moving. That sounded good to me! My goal was to just not go to the hospital.
We made it, bit by bit. She urged me on when I stopped and I urged her on when she stopped. We both crossed the finish line at 2 hours and 30 Minutes, my boys ran the last .1 mile with me and I resisted the urge to just lay on the ground and go to sleep.
My split time was 11.32. Okay, nothing to brag about. Had I not stopped to go to the bathroom and been better prepared to run against the wind for half of the race, I could have done a little better, but hey, I did it. I got a medal! And I showed my kids I could set a goal and follow through, and 36 years old doesn't need to mean "I'm old and slow!" I sure wasn't fit enough in my early 20's to run 13 miles, even though I was considerably skinnier.
The downside was my knee hurt for almost a week after and I still have barely returned to running, with this Saturday being two weeks since the race. I have run a few short sessions on the treadmill and swam laps at the pool so I am not completely giving up on working out. Tomorrow I plan on starting the next one, whether it's the 50k or a marathon plan I am not sure which one to work towards.
Whatever I decide, onward I will run.
Friday, August 19, 2016
When women run alone, an uncomfortable topic
The murder of three women that had been out on runs just a few weeks ago seems to have created a flurry of discussions on the subject. There are so many different opinions on it and no matter what stance you have, you will have a large group of people strongly disagreeing with you so please realize this is MY opinion based on my own personal experiences and I don't in any way want to upset someone or tell another woman how they should go forward with their running, this is simply my view.
Sadly, women being murdered while out running is not something unheard of. Just follow the news around the country and you will hear of it, maybe not often, but often enough for me. When I was nine years old, I was very close to being kidnapped while out riding my bike, with a friend, in broad daylight, in a highly populated neighborhood. Had I not had the good sense to listen to the voice within me that told me I was not going to make it to my apartment building and instead ran into a random person's yard and onto their front porch, I feel pretty certain that I would be dead.
I basically blocked this from my memory for many years, my mom not taking me all that seriously when I told her the story once I got home and I think my child's mind just accepted my mom's theory and I shut it out. It wasn't until I was significantly older and replayed it that I saw how very close I was to being gone.
I don't remember exactly what age I was when catcalling and whistling began if I was walking home from the school bus, or out jogging, but it basically became something that I accepted as a way of life. I would roll my eyes and avoid eye contact with whomever did it, I really didn't care. It wasn't something that made me fearful and I figured they thought they were complimenting me so whatever.
When I ran in highly populated areas, I would occasionally have men run alongside me and try to chat. One came right out and told me he would meet me there at the same place the following day to run with me. No "hi, how you doing?" Just sort of a command.
I gave him an "are you nuts?" expression and moved along. Oh, I guess I failed to mention that several of these incidents, including the last mentioned one, I was newly married so sporting a wedding ring quite clearly on my left hand.
It wasn't until I had had two kids, and was still being hollered at whenever my husband wasn't running with me, that I became angry about it.
One particular day when I was running with my husband and pushing both of my boys in the jogging stroller, my husband sprinted ahead for the last stretch of our run while I just jogged slowly along, when a van pulled up alongside of me and my boys, a teenage boy jumped out, another sat in the back with a video camera, while a third teen was driving. "wanna race?" the boy shouted as he ran alongside of me, apparently to capture this on video. I looked towards my husband, who was quite a ways of ahead of us but had just turned around and the teens saw him at that very moment. "Get in the van!" the driver shouted, seeing that there was a man in the vicinity, and off they took.
Yes, it was harmless, but it was disconcerting to me, a mom that just wanted to push her kids in a stroller along the beach and had that been my boys, I would have been furious. The fact that they thought it was fine to harass me, until they caught sight of my husband and realized he was with us, also made me upset. If I am with my sons, now that they are older, or my husband, nothing. If my husband and sons are outrunning me, a car passes them without a word and I get hollered at.
I have been followed out of my neighborhood on the one and only nearly dark run I ever went on alone and had a man expose himself to me on a long desolate stretch of road. Several people, mostly women oddly enough, thought it was funny. I wasn't one of them, and to this day I will not run in the dark alone again.
I don't dress in an appealing fashion in any way shape or form, not even in tank tops. I think there are just men out there looking for an opportunity when it comes to situations like the flasher or the teenagers. Maybe also the catcallers. I think the only people ever saying that a female is asking for the attention because of the way she dresses are the actual perpetrators. No one in their right mind blames the woman and I do not believe we live in a world of "rape culture," the new buzz word, in this country What we do live in is a world where there are mentally ill and evil people out there and that is why I choose to run safe. Which for me means in well travelled areas when I am alone, out in the open where cars will be going by on a regular basis and never at night. I know that no matter what I wear, if there happens to be a sick individual out there, I am quite possibly a prime target based on the fact that I am female and he has an opportunity.
I do teach my boys that catcalling and leering, hollering at a woman, is just completely unacceptable. It's harassment and disrespectful and all I can do is hope other parents choose to do the same but there will unfortunately always be mentally ill or just out right evil people living amongst us and we just never know when they will strike. I don't consider this living in fear, I just consider it living in (an unfortunate) reality.
Sadly, women being murdered while out running is not something unheard of. Just follow the news around the country and you will hear of it, maybe not often, but often enough for me. When I was nine years old, I was very close to being kidnapped while out riding my bike, with a friend, in broad daylight, in a highly populated neighborhood. Had I not had the good sense to listen to the voice within me that told me I was not going to make it to my apartment building and instead ran into a random person's yard and onto their front porch, I feel pretty certain that I would be dead.
I basically blocked this from my memory for many years, my mom not taking me all that seriously when I told her the story once I got home and I think my child's mind just accepted my mom's theory and I shut it out. It wasn't until I was significantly older and replayed it that I saw how very close I was to being gone.
I don't remember exactly what age I was when catcalling and whistling began if I was walking home from the school bus, or out jogging, but it basically became something that I accepted as a way of life. I would roll my eyes and avoid eye contact with whomever did it, I really didn't care. It wasn't something that made me fearful and I figured they thought they were complimenting me so whatever.
When I ran in highly populated areas, I would occasionally have men run alongside me and try to chat. One came right out and told me he would meet me there at the same place the following day to run with me. No "hi, how you doing?" Just sort of a command.
I gave him an "are you nuts?" expression and moved along. Oh, I guess I failed to mention that several of these incidents, including the last mentioned one, I was newly married so sporting a wedding ring quite clearly on my left hand.
It wasn't until I had had two kids, and was still being hollered at whenever my husband wasn't running with me, that I became angry about it.
One particular day when I was running with my husband and pushing both of my boys in the jogging stroller, my husband sprinted ahead for the last stretch of our run while I just jogged slowly along, when a van pulled up alongside of me and my boys, a teenage boy jumped out, another sat in the back with a video camera, while a third teen was driving. "wanna race?" the boy shouted as he ran alongside of me, apparently to capture this on video. I looked towards my husband, who was quite a ways of ahead of us but had just turned around and the teens saw him at that very moment. "Get in the van!" the driver shouted, seeing that there was a man in the vicinity, and off they took.
Yes, it was harmless, but it was disconcerting to me, a mom that just wanted to push her kids in a stroller along the beach and had that been my boys, I would have been furious. The fact that they thought it was fine to harass me, until they caught sight of my husband and realized he was with us, also made me upset. If I am with my sons, now that they are older, or my husband, nothing. If my husband and sons are outrunning me, a car passes them without a word and I get hollered at.
I have been followed out of my neighborhood on the one and only nearly dark run I ever went on alone and had a man expose himself to me on a long desolate stretch of road. Several people, mostly women oddly enough, thought it was funny. I wasn't one of them, and to this day I will not run in the dark alone again.
I don't dress in an appealing fashion in any way shape or form, not even in tank tops. I think there are just men out there looking for an opportunity when it comes to situations like the flasher or the teenagers. Maybe also the catcallers. I think the only people ever saying that a female is asking for the attention because of the way she dresses are the actual perpetrators. No one in their right mind blames the woman and I do not believe we live in a world of "rape culture," the new buzz word, in this country What we do live in is a world where there are mentally ill and evil people out there and that is why I choose to run safe. Which for me means in well travelled areas when I am alone, out in the open where cars will be going by on a regular basis and never at night. I know that no matter what I wear, if there happens to be a sick individual out there, I am quite possibly a prime target based on the fact that I am female and he has an opportunity.
I do teach my boys that catcalling and leering, hollering at a woman, is just completely unacceptable. It's harassment and disrespectful and all I can do is hope other parents choose to do the same but there will unfortunately always be mentally ill or just out right evil people living amongst us and we just never know when they will strike. I don't consider this living in fear, I just consider it living in (an unfortunate) reality.
Monday, August 15, 2016
Week 8, and all the fun things that come with running longer distances
Week eight wasn't as smooth as the prior weeks and I was stressing. Looking at that number on the Higdon schedule, staring back at me like a mountain peak to be climbed. It seemed impossible, especially after the disastrous short run of only 4 and a half miles two days earlier.
I didn't wake up early enough to get a run in so I waited until evening when it looked like a storm was looming off in the distance and I was thinking cloud cover would make my run a little more bearable. Typically, clouds and the storms that seem to roll in on a bi weekly basis come in fast but it was just my luck and the clouds offered me no cover.
After only one mile an odd tingling came down my arms, and into my hands. I felt light headed and had to take several walk breaks. How in the heck was I was suppose to make it 8 miles in just two days?
I thought about my day, I had consumed more sugar than I typically did, I had barely drank any water, and it was just too hot than what I was used to, in hind sight it made sense that my run sucked.
Saturday night I made sure to drink plenty of water, I set my alarm for 6:15 so I could beat the heat, okay I actually got out of bed at almost seven but it was better than an evening run. I made sure to take a bottle of water, with my weird chia seeds that my family teases me about, and I just made myself do it.
I had read a short article by Scott Jurek about setting little goals throughout the run (okay, the article was about 100 mile runs but essentially this was like a 100 mile run for me right? so the same psychology would work) so I told myself there would be no walking but I would stop every mile to drink my water.
There is absolutely no shade on the path I run except for an old grain mile only a mile from my house that I can about five seconds out of the sun but that is it. I did manage to lean against a phone for a second while I took a drink wondering what in the heck had ever possessed me to believe that living on the prairie would be something I would even remotely like doing, but I digress.
Five miles seems to be the distance where if I can get there, my brain flips a switch and says "oh, so this is what we are doing. Fine, I will stop trying to convince the body it is going to die and needs to stop running RIGHT NOW." My body resigns itself to its situation and trudges onwards.
Five miles also seems to be the distance where chaffing begins to catch up with me. Who would have thought the wrong kind of underwear could create such an unpleasant topic of discussion when your husband asks how your run went.
Onward I went, and that last quarter of a mile down that miserable gravel road greeted me. I stared at the road, staying on the path worn by truck tires where the rocks weren't sticking up every which way. I focused on my breathing pattern and sang a song in my head, anything to focus on NOT looking at the house, which seemed so far away but I did it, I reached our driveway, 8 miles complete!
I didn't wake up early enough to get a run in so I waited until evening when it looked like a storm was looming off in the distance and I was thinking cloud cover would make my run a little more bearable. Typically, clouds and the storms that seem to roll in on a bi weekly basis come in fast but it was just my luck and the clouds offered me no cover.
After only one mile an odd tingling came down my arms, and into my hands. I felt light headed and had to take several walk breaks. How in the heck was I was suppose to make it 8 miles in just two days?
I thought about my day, I had consumed more sugar than I typically did, I had barely drank any water, and it was just too hot than what I was used to, in hind sight it made sense that my run sucked.
Saturday night I made sure to drink plenty of water, I set my alarm for 6:15 so I could beat the heat, okay I actually got out of bed at almost seven but it was better than an evening run. I made sure to take a bottle of water, with my weird chia seeds that my family teases me about, and I just made myself do it.
I had read a short article by Scott Jurek about setting little goals throughout the run (okay, the article was about 100 mile runs but essentially this was like a 100 mile run for me right? so the same psychology would work) so I told myself there would be no walking but I would stop every mile to drink my water.
There is absolutely no shade on the path I run except for an old grain mile only a mile from my house that I can about five seconds out of the sun but that is it. I did manage to lean against a phone for a second while I took a drink wondering what in the heck had ever possessed me to believe that living on the prairie would be something I would even remotely like doing, but I digress.
Five miles seems to be the distance where if I can get there, my brain flips a switch and says "oh, so this is what we are doing. Fine, I will stop trying to convince the body it is going to die and needs to stop running RIGHT NOW." My body resigns itself to its situation and trudges onwards.
Five miles also seems to be the distance where chaffing begins to catch up with me. Who would have thought the wrong kind of underwear could create such an unpleasant topic of discussion when your husband asks how your run went.
Onward I went, and that last quarter of a mile down that miserable gravel road greeted me. I stared at the road, staying on the path worn by truck tires where the rocks weren't sticking up every which way. I focused on my breathing pattern and sang a song in my head, anything to focus on NOT looking at the house, which seemed so far away but I did it, I reached our driveway, 8 miles complete!
Thursday, August 11, 2016
Week 7 and a trip home
We made a whirlwind trip to Washington to visit family and do a few fun things that we can't experience living out on the high prairie. I only made it on one run over the four days we were gone, a four and a half mile trek through a tree lined neighborhood in Bellingham.
Being back near the water and the trees and the beautiful green everywhere was very soul renewing. I wish running had been something I had been able to do more of as the amount of trails to run are endless. I would have had to find a running partner beyond my husband with the kids being young and unable to be left home alone so that is something that was prohibitive, and I guess I was just not miserable enough there as I am here to find a distraction, ha!
Hopefully our days here are growing shorter, whether we go back to Washington, we don't know yet but at this point I will happy anywhere with a bigger population and the things to do that our family has become accustom to. Goodbye crappy neighbors that drive by and spit in my yard and flip off my children, goodbye water being delivered by truck to my house, endless casinos and bars and hello to organic food stores and weather that will make life outdoors a little more tolerable. Yes, I am looking forward to the big day!
Since we drove home on Sunday, the day that was supposed to be my long run, I had to wait until Monday and I made it the seven miles pretty easily, this week it mores right up to eight miles, no seven mile repeat, and I think it should be okay.
My running pal met up with me the following day when I was supposed to run a four and a half but I ended up running six instead. I felt good until the next morning when my body said not to get out of bed until nearly nine o'clock. Okay, fine. I guess I need to rest!
Being back near the water and the trees and the beautiful green everywhere was very soul renewing. I wish running had been something I had been able to do more of as the amount of trails to run are endless. I would have had to find a running partner beyond my husband with the kids being young and unable to be left home alone so that is something that was prohibitive, and I guess I was just not miserable enough there as I am here to find a distraction, ha!
Hopefully our days here are growing shorter, whether we go back to Washington, we don't know yet but at this point I will happy anywhere with a bigger population and the things to do that our family has become accustom to. Goodbye crappy neighbors that drive by and spit in my yard and flip off my children, goodbye water being delivered by truck to my house, endless casinos and bars and hello to organic food stores and weather that will make life outdoors a little more tolerable. Yes, I am looking forward to the big day!
Since we drove home on Sunday, the day that was supposed to be my long run, I had to wait until Monday and I made it the seven miles pretty easily, this week it mores right up to eight miles, no seven mile repeat, and I think it should be okay.
My running pal met up with me the following day when I was supposed to run a four and a half but I ended up running six instead. I felt good until the next morning when my body said not to get out of bed until nearly nine o'clock. Okay, fine. I guess I need to rest!
Friday, July 29, 2016
Week Five, just barely
Some mom friends and I hiked trails at Glacier and I wasn't quite sure of what to expect physically. I WAY overpacked and wished I had taken pretty much nothing but my toothbrush and a change of underwear about mile three because all I really wanted to do was run.
The views were lovely, the food was great once we got up there and it was a much faster 3 hour and 15 minute hike down as opposed to the six hour hike UP the day before. I knew hiking would be good cross training on my half marathon journey but I didn't plan on the soreness for two days after getting home. I think the walk down was what killed me, my calves were screaming after any moments of inactivity. My running got pushed to the side for a couple days but by that Sunday I was able to complete my 5 mile run so I felt that I successfully accomplished the week despite my missed runs that week.
After Scott Jurek's book, I read "Older, Faster, Stronger," by Margaret Webb. It was definitely an encouraging read as I struggle with the thought of "getting old" as I stare down 40 in a few years. My husband and I just don't have people in our families to look to for inspiration when it comes to aging. The unfortunate thing is many of them seem to just be waiting to die. I know this sounds like a horrible thing to say but when you sit in your chair for the last 20 years of your life, complaining of "old age," I just can't seem to see it any other way. I don't want to be this way, and I don't want our boys to see us doing this. I want to hike to beautiful places and run trails as long as I can. I realize, of course, that good health isn't always guaranteed, but I can do my best to do what I can to stay as healthy as possible.
I really enjoy reading inspiring books and articles written by people that feel the same as I do. I don't particularly care whether it is written by a woman or not, I pay more attention to the fact that they are beating the odds, male or female, and enjoying a healthy, active life. I came across a great article today about Laird Hamilton and his outlook on aging and staying active. He made an awesome point when he said "I think what happens is that we decide we’re old and we just stop, and everything stops working. There’s so much stigma and weirdness around being older." I just want to pull my hair out every time my grandma tells me one of her ailments is "just getting old." I try to encourage her to eat better and get out and walk but I think he mind is already made up that this is old age and this is how she will be. It makes me sad. Imagine if our society worked on changing this mindset with seniors and they found out there was another way? Unfortunately, I think, much like cancer, there is way too much money involved in the elderly, from specialty centers, to prescription drugs and the doctors that care for them. What incentive is there to encourage people to exercise and eat well? We have to decide that on our own and not look for a doctor to tell us these things. I hope to encourage others like so many have been encouraging to me, especially to my own family.
But enough of that depressing talk! So I now on week six, having run SIX miles! last Sunday. The longest I have ever run in my life. It is hard to imagine that I can run 13 miles, but I keep putting along, checking off the days on my Hal Higdon schedule. This week has been the most difficult so far, even on my days of just 3.5 miles. It has been hot and I have been staying up too late (like I am doing now!) so I get up around 7:30 and it is already hot. There is nowhere to run in my area that has shade, I miss the heavily treed parks of my home in Washington. One day this week I decided to run my four miles on the treadmill at the gym, which was probably worse than running outside because for one it's mind numbingly boring, and two, the darn gym seems to have no air conditioning and while there was a line of fans along the wall, not one of them was on and I couldn't seem to see how to turn them on. I made a mental not to avoid the gym for running until the miserable arctic winds returned to the prairie this winter. I managed to run my four miles this morning in the 80 degree heat and reminded myself that next run day, which will be another 6 mile run on Sunday, I better get my rear end out of bed at 5:30!
The views were lovely, the food was great once we got up there and it was a much faster 3 hour and 15 minute hike down as opposed to the six hour hike UP the day before. I knew hiking would be good cross training on my half marathon journey but I didn't plan on the soreness for two days after getting home. I think the walk down was what killed me, my calves were screaming after any moments of inactivity. My running got pushed to the side for a couple days but by that Sunday I was able to complete my 5 mile run so I felt that I successfully accomplished the week despite my missed runs that week.
 |
| Just coming out of the woods on our hike at Glacier. |
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| I really, really wanted to run this trail! |
But enough of that depressing talk! So I now on week six, having run SIX miles! last Sunday. The longest I have ever run in my life. It is hard to imagine that I can run 13 miles, but I keep putting along, checking off the days on my Hal Higdon schedule. This week has been the most difficult so far, even on my days of just 3.5 miles. It has been hot and I have been staying up too late (like I am doing now!) so I get up around 7:30 and it is already hot. There is nowhere to run in my area that has shade, I miss the heavily treed parks of my home in Washington. One day this week I decided to run my four miles on the treadmill at the gym, which was probably worse than running outside because for one it's mind numbingly boring, and two, the darn gym seems to have no air conditioning and while there was a line of fans along the wall, not one of them was on and I couldn't seem to see how to turn them on. I made a mental not to avoid the gym for running until the miserable arctic winds returned to the prairie this winter. I managed to run my four miles this morning in the 80 degree heat and reminded myself that next run day, which will be another 6 mile run on Sunday, I better get my rear end out of bed at 5:30!
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| A Mountain Goat enjoying the view with me, while my Lunas let my toes breathe. |
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Finding My Happy Place
I was never without a horse, for pretty much all of my life and I was determined that they made me happy, they were the one thing I would cling to and refuse to give up when my boys came into the picture. Fast forward to a year ago and it all came to a head, our move to Montana seemed to show me how really unhappy horses made me. They cost a ridiculous amount of money, they are a tremendous amount of work, especially when you keep them at home, and quite honestly, the majority of horse people, at least for me, are not people you want to hang out with. I don't know what it is that brings out the worst in people when it comes to horses but it never fails, gossiping and nastiness will weasel it's way in to the conversations, especially online, pretty quickly. When I take a weekend trip with the family to go mountain biking, at the end of the day I am pumped up by all the friendly people you meet out on the trails, when I used to come home from a day at the barn, it wasn't unusual for me to be in tears for one reason or another. Whether it was a nasty barn owner, a rude fellow boarder or a lame horse, I am just to the point that I am tired of it all. Not to mention all of the time it takes away from my family. I don't like being away from them, my husband works 12 hour shifts and we are apart enough due to that, my boys will be grown and on their own soon enough, I cherish every moment I am lucky to have with them. When I run, they either run with me or ride a bike, or I get up so early that they are still asleep before I get home. This is what I I have realized is what makes me the most happy.
I read a lot of times where people say running takes away time from the family but in comparison to my other hobby, it doesn't and it can easily be turned into a family adventure whether they bike or run alongside you and having a healthy parent is a good thing, encouraging them to be active as well. I know when kids are little it isn't that easy. Our running never lasted long due to living in the rainy PNW and not wanting to drag them (or ourselves) out in the rain, but now at 11 and 13 it is much easier.
Running a 5k, as opposed to attending a horse show, was a huge morale booster for me. I was so happy and thrilled at my piddly accomplishment and by the encouraging and friendly people that were involved with the race, it was a night and day experience from a horse show. Life is too short not to find things that make you walk away from happy and encouraged as opposed to crying and dejected.
My husband says I am going through a midlife crisis I early, I don't know, maybe he is right but I kind of feel like the odd thing about finding yourself, is actually true. Maybe all these years I just haven't really ever found the real me, until now.
Monday, July 4, 2016
Week Two Complete.
Four weeks ago I had the brilliant idea of running a half marathon in Bozeman on September 11th. I mean, four months to prepare to run 13 miles is plenty of time, right? Well, I guess we will soon find out!
Right away I printed off Hal Higdon's half marathon plan. The only other time I was every seeing improvements in my endurance was when I followed his 5k plan. In no time I was running six miles straight and feeling good so I figured I would stick with his plans.
It definitely gives me a great, consistent schedule and when I can wake up each day, do the workout on the calendar and check it off, I feel a sense of "yes! I can do this!"
Yesterday was the end of week two and it called for a four mile run. I went to the river with my family, those three bums on bikes while I ran (in my Luna sandals!) and I trudged through the four miles, against the freaking wind and in 88 degree heat, so yeah it was a miserable run, but I did it.
The good news about my sandals is that they are no longer rubbing the tops of my feet raw where the buckle sits but I did have a blister at the bottom of my right foot, so boo to that.
My calves are not cramping when I land fore foot first like they did in the beginning and it feels like I am running on springs when I am running correctly, especially up hills. I can't make it the whole way running like that yet, my calves wear out and I go back to the jarring heel first landing.
Next weekend instead of the five mile run the schedule calls for, I will be hiking in Glacier National Park so I am a little nervous about throwing off my schedule but hopefully I won't be too tired the days following and I can get back on track.
Right away I printed off Hal Higdon's half marathon plan. The only other time I was every seeing improvements in my endurance was when I followed his 5k plan. In no time I was running six miles straight and feeling good so I figured I would stick with his plans.
It definitely gives me a great, consistent schedule and when I can wake up each day, do the workout on the calendar and check it off, I feel a sense of "yes! I can do this!"
Yesterday was the end of week two and it called for a four mile run. I went to the river with my family, those three bums on bikes while I ran (in my Luna sandals!) and I trudged through the four miles, against the freaking wind and in 88 degree heat, so yeah it was a miserable run, but I did it.
The good news about my sandals is that they are no longer rubbing the tops of my feet raw where the buckle sits but I did have a blister at the bottom of my right foot, so boo to that.
My calves are not cramping when I land fore foot first like they did in the beginning and it feels like I am running on springs when I am running correctly, especially up hills. I can't make it the whole way running like that yet, my calves wear out and I go back to the jarring heel first landing.
Next weekend instead of the five mile run the schedule calls for, I will be hiking in Glacier National Park so I am a little nervous about throwing off my schedule but hopefully I won't be too tired the days following and I can get back on track.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
My Luna Sandals, finally!!
A few years ago, the barefoot running movement was afoot (ha, like how I did that?) So much so that even non runners were aware of, which at the time was me. I saw people in those goofy toe shoes that reminded me of the toe socks of the 80's. Then for the ones not wearing the toe shoes were the ones running totally barefoot. I couldn't imagine how this was possible down any sort of terrain beyond grass.
I had forgotten about the toe shoes but was reminded of them reading Born To Run. It all made sense of course, we weren't born with shoes on our feet, after all, and growing up in Hawaii I recalled as a child how spent most of my days either barefoot or in flimsy rubber sandals we called "slippers." Shoes were only worn at school and sporting events and we were able to do this year round thanks to the weather. I remember how tough my feet were as a kid, but now, I'm lucky if I can walk across the unwatered grass.
So fast forward to three months ago and a book called "Born To Run" which everyone that runs and their spouse that doesn't, has read. I was intrigued by the science behind barefoot running, it only makes sense, right? Our feet are made to get us from point A to B, all without anything strapped to it. Humans like to interfere, just look at horses! And what do we get for it? Injuries and feet that can't make it across the lawn without a man made shoe strapped to it.
So why not? I would give this quasi barefoot lifestyle a try. There are several minimalist sandals out there, but only Barefoot Ted was in the book I just read and he WAS based out of Seattle, so the Luna sandal was what I wanted. Yeah, I have a weird way of selecting my future purchases.
I did a search on the store locator and of course, no local stores carried the Lunas. They did carry them at my favorite running store back in Bellingham, of course.
I had to wait until until we went on our family vacation down to Texas and tried out a pair in Austin.
The saleswoman warned me to take it slow and give myself about a year before really running in them but after wearing them for the rest of my vacation I went on a two mile run with them once we got back to Montana.
Running with them definitely gets you to land on the front of your foot rather than heel first. If you do land heel first you can feel the jarring all the way into your jaw. My calves were screaming so
I would switch back and forth, trying to land as soft as possible when running heel first. Other than muscle soreness in my calves I felt fine from running in them, the downside to them is that try as I might, I can't seem to adjust them so the buckle doesn't rub in the top of my foot, creating a sore spot.
First it was just one foot but by the second run is was both feet. I put band aids on both feet and that seemed to help significantly.
Another down side is the rocks that get stuck in between your foot and the shoe, I have to stop
more than once to remove a small rock but that's what you get when you are stuck running gravel roads, and the rocks you kick up and hit your toes on rare occasions are killers.
I pretty much wear them everywhere and enjoy letting my feet be free and unrestricted. I don't think I'll be running my half marathon in September in them but maybe next summer.
I had forgotten about the toe shoes but was reminded of them reading Born To Run. It all made sense of course, we weren't born with shoes on our feet, after all, and growing up in Hawaii I recalled as a child how spent most of my days either barefoot or in flimsy rubber sandals we called "slippers." Shoes were only worn at school and sporting events and we were able to do this year round thanks to the weather. I remember how tough my feet were as a kid, but now, I'm lucky if I can walk across the unwatered grass.
So fast forward to three months ago and a book called "Born To Run" which everyone that runs and their spouse that doesn't, has read. I was intrigued by the science behind barefoot running, it only makes sense, right? Our feet are made to get us from point A to B, all without anything strapped to it. Humans like to interfere, just look at horses! And what do we get for it? Injuries and feet that can't make it across the lawn without a man made shoe strapped to it.
So why not? I would give this quasi barefoot lifestyle a try. There are several minimalist sandals out there, but only Barefoot Ted was in the book I just read and he WAS based out of Seattle, so the Luna sandal was what I wanted. Yeah, I have a weird way of selecting my future purchases.
I did a search on the store locator and of course, no local stores carried the Lunas. They did carry them at my favorite running store back in Bellingham, of course.
I had to wait until until we went on our family vacation down to Texas and tried out a pair in Austin.
The saleswoman warned me to take it slow and give myself about a year before really running in them but after wearing them for the rest of my vacation I went on a two mile run with them once we got back to Montana.
Running with them definitely gets you to land on the front of your foot rather than heel first. If you do land heel first you can feel the jarring all the way into your jaw. My calves were screaming so
I would switch back and forth, trying to land as soft as possible when running heel first. Other than muscle soreness in my calves I felt fine from running in them, the downside to them is that try as I might, I can't seem to adjust them so the buckle doesn't rub in the top of my foot, creating a sore spot.
First it was just one foot but by the second run is was both feet. I put band aids on both feet and that seemed to help significantly.
Another down side is the rocks that get stuck in between your foot and the shoe, I have to stop
more than once to remove a small rock but that's what you get when you are stuck running gravel roads, and the rocks you kick up and hit your toes on rare occasions are killers.
I pretty much wear them everywhere and enjoy letting my feet be free and unrestricted. I don't think I'll be running my half marathon in September in them but maybe next summer.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Why do we run?
A year ago, this week, my family and I moved to Montana from Washington state for my husband's new job.
We were leaving behind the only home our boys had ever known, my dad and grandparents, friends made over the years and that sense of security and comfort one develops in the communities they live in. We were looking forward to a new adventure, a bigger home with land in a more affordable area. Yes, we were leaving behind the beach that was a mile from our home, the beautiful Puget Sound, but I had somehow convinced myself Montana would be better suited for us. Just as beautiful as our old home, green and mountainous with never ending nature to explore.
Well, reality smacked us in the face within just a few days of arriving. The picture that we build up in our minds is so often not what life turns out to be. I felt like I had fallen for a bait and switch scheme when it came to Montana. It wasn't the green mountains and endless rivers that we moved to, instead we ended up on a prairie; flat and brown the majority of the year. Casinos and bars were the theme of the area we had moved, a strip club and 24 hour "body shampoo" parlor were on the main drag near the mall and grocery stores. The bad part of town that you avoided in most of middle class America, was essentially the whole town.
There wasn't a day that went by for the first few month that I didn't cry. Going into town for the most basic things, like grocery shopping, would have me in tears because the selection of places to shop were dismal. The variety of food was even depressing. I seemed to have stepped back in time to two decades ago and I longed to return to the 21st century. Foods I normally bought and took for granted weren't available, once I asked the man working in the produce section where the bay leaves were and he said they didn't carry them. Organic food seemed to be a new idea here and the selection at the grocery stores were sort of like that weird basket of fruit that sits on convenience store counters, only there so that they can abide by a law that allows them to take EBT for soda and other junk food.
My boys often said we had been brought to Montana to teach us a lesson about not taking things for granted; so essentially we were being punished.
After years of boarding my horses, I finally could have them at home, but even my horse became a symbol of why we were here and I lost all desire to ride. I would do the bare minimum; grooming and feeding her twice a day and mucking out the stall, watch her enjoying her new life through the windows.
My husband, I guess finally beaten down by his family's misery, assured us we wouldn't stay here. Knowing this helped, I told the boys we wouldn't be here forever and we just needed to make the best of it while we were here, despite the misery I felt I knew I needed to help the kids get through this. After a night of text messages back and forth with my aunt back home in Washington in which she told me I needed to make the best of the situation, I knew she was right and began to spend my days wondering what I could do differently to chase away this deep pain and sadness that brought on tears and anxiety attacks on a near daily basis. Even sermons at church entitled "how to love this city" didn't help. I knew this was where God put us for the time being (even though we viewed it as a punishment) and I needed to rely on Him to get us through to the other side but I still feel empty and depressed. An email to a friend back home came back with the advice to go and get counseling. It seemed there was no one that could just hear my grief and pain that I didn't have to pay.
The winter was miserable. The wind blew, and blew, and blew and at times it was so cold my horses had frost on their eyelashes. Even if I wanted to ride, that was out of the question, it was just too cold. With no way of going outside we got a membership at a gym that was one of the best gyms I had ever been inside. Three swimming pools and a huge basketball court would provide plenty of activity for the family. Oh well, I told myself, at least I can get into shape.
I had played sports in high school and since then had been sort of an on and off exerciser. We would run in the summers when the weather was great and the days were long but as soon as the rain returned in late September, we were back on the couch and in front of the t.v. until spring. We tried gyms at various times but never stuck with them.
I always imagined myself as a runner. Always wanted to be one of those people that had to get a run their run in, no matter where they were, but I never managed to do it. I always heard about the terrible knees runners had, or the damage marathoners did to their hearts, and I was never able to find anyone that wanted to run with me, so my excuses for not running piled up.
Which brings us back to Montana and my tale of woe. I started in the winter, on the treadmill, first I was barely able to trudge out a mile, and then I slowly eaked out two miles, and then three, until finally I ran four miles one day and marveled over how good it felt to get off the treadmill having run for 40 minutes. I finally read the book I kept seeing mentioned on just about every running blog and Ted Talk, "Born to Run." In it the author says running booms occur after national tragedies, so my newfound joy in running made sense since I had had my own personal version of a national tragedy. It makes sense, I suppose. We were created to run, run for our food, run as a form of travel, run to flee danger.
Or run to flee stress and sadness. So here is my journey.
We were leaving behind the only home our boys had ever known, my dad and grandparents, friends made over the years and that sense of security and comfort one develops in the communities they live in. We were looking forward to a new adventure, a bigger home with land in a more affordable area. Yes, we were leaving behind the beach that was a mile from our home, the beautiful Puget Sound, but I had somehow convinced myself Montana would be better suited for us. Just as beautiful as our old home, green and mountainous with never ending nature to explore.
Well, reality smacked us in the face within just a few days of arriving. The picture that we build up in our minds is so often not what life turns out to be. I felt like I had fallen for a bait and switch scheme when it came to Montana. It wasn't the green mountains and endless rivers that we moved to, instead we ended up on a prairie; flat and brown the majority of the year. Casinos and bars were the theme of the area we had moved, a strip club and 24 hour "body shampoo" parlor were on the main drag near the mall and grocery stores. The bad part of town that you avoided in most of middle class America, was essentially the whole town.
There wasn't a day that went by for the first few month that I didn't cry. Going into town for the most basic things, like grocery shopping, would have me in tears because the selection of places to shop were dismal. The variety of food was even depressing. I seemed to have stepped back in time to two decades ago and I longed to return to the 21st century. Foods I normally bought and took for granted weren't available, once I asked the man working in the produce section where the bay leaves were and he said they didn't carry them. Organic food seemed to be a new idea here and the selection at the grocery stores were sort of like that weird basket of fruit that sits on convenience store counters, only there so that they can abide by a law that allows them to take EBT for soda and other junk food.
My boys often said we had been brought to Montana to teach us a lesson about not taking things for granted; so essentially we were being punished.
After years of boarding my horses, I finally could have them at home, but even my horse became a symbol of why we were here and I lost all desire to ride. I would do the bare minimum; grooming and feeding her twice a day and mucking out the stall, watch her enjoying her new life through the windows.
My husband, I guess finally beaten down by his family's misery, assured us we wouldn't stay here. Knowing this helped, I told the boys we wouldn't be here forever and we just needed to make the best of it while we were here, despite the misery I felt I knew I needed to help the kids get through this. After a night of text messages back and forth with my aunt back home in Washington in which she told me I needed to make the best of the situation, I knew she was right and began to spend my days wondering what I could do differently to chase away this deep pain and sadness that brought on tears and anxiety attacks on a near daily basis. Even sermons at church entitled "how to love this city" didn't help. I knew this was where God put us for the time being (even though we viewed it as a punishment) and I needed to rely on Him to get us through to the other side but I still feel empty and depressed. An email to a friend back home came back with the advice to go and get counseling. It seemed there was no one that could just hear my grief and pain that I didn't have to pay.
The winter was miserable. The wind blew, and blew, and blew and at times it was so cold my horses had frost on their eyelashes. Even if I wanted to ride, that was out of the question, it was just too cold. With no way of going outside we got a membership at a gym that was one of the best gyms I had ever been inside. Three swimming pools and a huge basketball court would provide plenty of activity for the family. Oh well, I told myself, at least I can get into shape.
I had played sports in high school and since then had been sort of an on and off exerciser. We would run in the summers when the weather was great and the days were long but as soon as the rain returned in late September, we were back on the couch and in front of the t.v. until spring. We tried gyms at various times but never stuck with them.
I always imagined myself as a runner. Always wanted to be one of those people that had to get a run their run in, no matter where they were, but I never managed to do it. I always heard about the terrible knees runners had, or the damage marathoners did to their hearts, and I was never able to find anyone that wanted to run with me, so my excuses for not running piled up.
Which brings us back to Montana and my tale of woe. I started in the winter, on the treadmill, first I was barely able to trudge out a mile, and then I slowly eaked out two miles, and then three, until finally I ran four miles one day and marveled over how good it felt to get off the treadmill having run for 40 minutes. I finally read the book I kept seeing mentioned on just about every running blog and Ted Talk, "Born to Run." In it the author says running booms occur after national tragedies, so my newfound joy in running made sense since I had had my own personal version of a national tragedy. It makes sense, I suppose. We were created to run, run for our food, run as a form of travel, run to flee danger.
Or run to flee stress and sadness. So here is my journey.
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