I signed up for another race – mostly because I want to eat and not lose any of the momentum from finishing the triathlon and partly because the next race in October is with very dear friends and its to run over the Astoria Bridge so it involves a weekend away with my spouse.
Finishing the triathlon is not a sentance that my jr. high self would have envisioned – proof that jr. high, while generally miserable, is thankfully not the sum total of existance. My eldest is going into fourth grade so we have two years left to pour in quality while she is still sane. And then according to my wise mother the goal in middle school is to just get them through it.
The next race is a 10K. I ran one several years ago. I came in dead last. I’d prefer not to be last again. Near the end of the crowd is okay. Last, not so much. I had a hard time this week getting into the gym during the day. The Scramble for the Kids is on Monday and so this last week was full of a myriad of details. As a result, two of my excercise attempts happened late evening after the three year old went to bed. Couple days ago the nine year old wanted to know if she could come along. I paused. Sometimes I run because I need a break. And last time she ran with me it involved more of me dragging her than actual running. But the jr. high kid in me wants my daughter’s jr. high experience to include fewer painful PE moments than mine had. Plus the fact that she wants to run with me is a a great honor. So I said sure.
She did great. We ran 2 miles in 25 minutes and were still friends when we came back home.
after dinner and after I read bedtime books to the little one (Make Way for Ducklings, This is Not my Hat and The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore for those of you curious).
We headed out with iPod blaring so we could both hear and I was wearing a light backpack so we could bring home treats. I asked my spouse if a run still counts if it is to the store for ice cream. He said yes. Points for the husband!
This two miles we dropped 4 1/2 minutes off our time. Seriously should add ice cream to every run. Actually I think the fact that I was chasing her down the whole time pushed us both to speed up.
She talked me through all the post run stretches and then we sat on the couch and ate bowls of ice cream and then I dove back into golf details. And now the house is quiet, the girls are asleep and I’m grateful for today – for reading and laundry and errands and nap time and quiet moments with my spouse. And for the run. I’m grateful.
Our pastor says that parenting is not for wimps. And so we run. And eat ice cream.
This past weekend I participated in the 21st annual Hood to Coast / Portland to Coast relay. It’s a crazy fun event. When I was explaining to my daughter that I’d be gone overnight because I was walking to the beach she looked at me like I was crazy. In reality there were twelve of us that spent exactly 31 hours 38 min 32 seconds taking turns walking the 130 mile course from Portland to Seaside. We came in 94th out of 142 in our bracket.
My team is called the Rocket Girls. We got the name from a daughter of one of the team members. When she did her first race in 3rd grade or so she told her mom that the way she sped up when she was lagging was to say “GO GO Rocket Girl. GO as fast as the wind”. We tried her method and found that she’s right. Go Go Rocket Girl really is effective self talk and doubles nicely as a team name. Here is a photo of Van One. I was in Van Two. Our team spirit was less creative so I’m not showing you a photo of our van.
My sister and I were on the same team. Here we are nice and perky right at the beginning of the race.
Here we are at the end of the race. This is after we each walked over ten miles (I did twelve; eight of it in one long hill in the sunshine). This is also after we slept three hours the night before in our van. My sister and I shared a seat. It was cozy…and stinky…and hot. We’re less perky.
The Van One girls look happier. This is because they had showers already. We’d just gotten off the shuttle bus. This is a photo of the ride on the shuttle bus. Our last walker beat us to the beach. Yup. She walked faster than the shuttle bus drove.
When I got home my daughter asked if I had fun walking to the beach. Absolutely. I’ll do it again next year. I told you. It’s crazy fun.
I’ve been doing a little personal research into what happens when you eat junk food and then run. It’s not pretty. About a week ago we had a potluck at the park. We were standing around waiting for everyone to arrive and to pass the time we ate potato chips. Lots of potato chips. BBQ. A good solid start. Sea Salt and Vinegar. Chips that bite back. Tomato and Basil. Tastes like spaghetti. I’m not sure I like them. That didn’t stop me from eating quite a few. More people arrived. They brought more chips. Doritos. Cheetos. I avoided these due to the good ol’ latent TB since I think technically they have cheese in them somewhere. Tortilla chips. We didn’t have any forks. We used potato chips. On top of the multi layer chip fest I added fried chicken and lemon bars. The lemon bars were really good so I had two…or three.
Then we went for a two-mile run. It hurt. A lot. I think I was sweating grease. I told you it wasn’t pretty. Two young and fit and cute runners tried to lap us. They failed but it about killed me off. I think we ran far enough to burn off the lemon bars. The potato chips and fried chicken are still with me.
The fried chicken wasn’t even very good. I bought it at the deli. No comparison to the homemade fried chicken we’d had a week prior. We were at the church campout. Usually this involves lots of fun, friends, boats and sunshine. This year it involved lots of fun, friends, tarps and rain. I’m happy to report that our tent didn’t leak. At one point in the deluge we had ten little girls lined up at picnic benches getting fancy manicures. I did base coats. My friend is a natural nail artist. I particularly liked the pig.
After we cleared out the sparkles and polish remover the crew started getting dinner ready. We were all hovering. A tiny bit of sunshine broke out. The food kept coming. Oh happy day! Sesame noodle salad, watermelon, homemade potato salad (only four ingredients…its fabulous), bread and fried chicken. The chicken was not greasy. It was a bit peppery. This is why I like camping. I ate a ton. Quite wisely I did not go running afterwards.
On Saturday I ran my very first 10K. I had a decent plate of spaghetti the night before. Good carb load. We ran all six miles. We came in last. A group of walkers beat us. This is becoming a pattern for me. My mother-in-law reassured me that its a good thing to be a turtle. Slow and steady may not win the race but she swears turtles finish every race they start. I do have to say this slow six miles was easier than the potato chip two miles.
It’s his favorite because whatever you put in is what comes out. I feel like my own living parable. Junk food in, cruddy run. It may be fun to dish out snarky comments and its tempting to jump into divisive gossip. The outflow though of that kind of input is devastating. It starts with a sluggish attitude. Bitterness settles in. Pretty soon despair is dogging your heals. Wanna run a good race? Think on what is good. Avoid the grease.
I need a new pair of running shoes. Mine are just about dead. I know this partly because when I run I can feel pavement through the tread. Partly because this particular pair of running shoes smell funky. I don’t know how long running shoes should last but mine have logged miles for the last nine months and it’s time to go get a new pair. I feel a little guilty though. It’s like I’m trading in a pet for a new and improved version. The shoes look at me accusingly. I keep putting them back in the closet and delay again buying new ones.
Nine months ago I was diagnosed with dormant tuberculosis. (See To Whine or Not for all the details). To distract myself, I started running. My sister agreed to train with me. We recruited a marathon survivor to coach us. The first time we went out to run we made it once around the track. One quarter of a mile. We were hurting, red and blotchy and felt completely pitiful. The next week we went two laps – half a mile. Still blotchy. We were excited when we got up to a mile and did it in “only” fifteen minutes. We even high-fived. About a month ago we did our first 5K. We came in last. This did not bother me in the least. Last week, we did five miles in an hour. I cheered. My first 10K is in eight days.
There are two types of runners. The first types are gorgeous tall lanky people who make running look easy. My brother-in-law is one of these. He routinely runs ten plus miles and actually enjoys it. I like to watch this type of person run. Graceful. Fast. You can tell at one glance that they were built to run. In high school these people made me nervous. Now I mostly just try to stay out of their way.
The second type of runners are shorter, slower, and less coordinated. These are my kind of people. What we don’t have in grace we make up for in courage. I personally tend to weave when I run. A friend who trained with me a few years ago got so used to it that she just started grabbing my shirt sleeve when I was wandering too far into someone else’s lane. She didn’t say anything, just reeled me back in.
I am coming close to a finish line. I took my last pill for TB on Monday. In two weeks the medicine should be out of my system and I can resume a normal diet. I am so looking forward to eating a banana. And some guacamole. And cheddar cheese. I plan on eating everything on my restricted list. Even Skipjack even though I’m not totally sure what that is. Some sort of Tuna. Ever notice how if you can’t have something you suddenly want it? Is that just me? In two weeks I’ll have a celebratory dance and quit all the restrictions.
I’m not going to quit running though. Running clears my head. If I’m cranky and go for a run, I come back happy. It might only be that I’m happy I can stop but whatever works. Over the last nine months I’ve lost over 25 pounds, killed tuberculosis, kicked a caffeine habit, survived without chocolate and learned that if I run I can eat pretty much however much I want. This will be useful when the cheese resumes. I may have to up my mileage.
I really need new shoes.
To see the flipside go to www.doncanonge.com.