Over the Long Haul: 8 Benefits of Running with your Spouse

Twinsies by accident!

When we started running (consistently) in 2009, we almost never ran together. Besides having 2 little kids at home (6 and 4), we didn't run very similarly:  different pace, varying times of the day, and contrasting workouts. Most of the time back then, one of us would run early, then we'd switch off so the other person could go. It was like that game “tunnel tag” we played duirng grade school recess, except we didn't crawl between each other's legs before heading out the door for a run, and it wasn't nearly as fun.

In the summer of 2015, we started running together more. Our kids were older (10 and 12) and it was easy to run at 0-dark-30 before they (or anyone sane) woke up. We could run 10 miles, stretch, shower, and make waffles before the kids slithered downstairs on a Saturday. Because we could run together, we decided to train for and run a race for our 15th Anniversary. Yep, we celebrated 15 years of marriage by running 31 miles. Nothing says “I love you” quite like sliding down a steep muddy hill and knocking your husband down like a bowling pin. And they say romance fades over time.

Crazy hill at Point Defiance 50K. Notice the rope!

Before 2015, when we did manage to get to run together, we called it a “Running Date.” If you're scoffing because you think a red-faced, sweaty husband is gross, then you're missing the point.

Let me tell you the 8 benefits of running with your spouse:

1. No travel time. After sleeping in a queen-sized bed for 20 years, we broke down and bought a king last spring. Holy rollover room, Batman. Now, we're a separated by 2 feet instead of 4 inches, but we still have zero time considerations when we meet for a run. Even running partners who are neighbors have to wake up a couple minutes earlier to allow for time to get to each other. We're already there.



I must be telling a joke. Point Defiance 50K

2. Safety First. Running alone has a lot of benefits, including time for personal reflection, choice of route, and easy pace decisions. Still, it is generally considered less safe. Not only do I feel safer having my husband with me as far as being attacked or robbed (I've hoped for years that robbers aren't interested in my Garmin or Scott's 150$ Altras), we feel safer just having another set of eyes to notice large roots or cars who refuse to stop. Red lights and stop signs don't matter before 7 a.m., apparently. I've screamed “SCOTT!” and grabbed his shirt, or had his arm across my chest more than once in the last two years.

3. It's a marriage, too. Running with your spouse can give you 45 minutes to 2 hours (or more!) of uninterrupted time to discuss important parts of your lives. For us, whether it's figuring out where to go on vacation, when to file the taxes, or how to manage a kid that won't stop lying, running together has afforded us time to privately talk about essential details of marital life. Or, tell each other dirty jokes; whatever keeps the spark alive!

4. Enjoy the Stillness. Since we've been married forever and we see each other a lot, sometimes we don't need to talk. It's nice to run with someone who understands that it's OK to be quiet. We don't feel the need for incessant gabbing and can enjoy the sounds of nature or get lost in our own heads for a couple of miles.

Warming up before a race and keeping to ourselves.

5. OMG. I need a “lookout.” There may have been a time (or two, get it?) when I needed to use the bathroom but there wasn't one! Frack!! Scott would have been a fantastic sentry. In real life, he's a business analyst, which has no similarities, but you gotta play the hand you're dealt, right? I'm telling you that he's wonderful at making sure “the coast is clear” and I have zero worries about copping a squat when he's there. This man saw two babies come out of me. Nothing that exits from me during a run compares to that!

6. Stay Gold, Ponyboy. In order to stay true to your running goals, running with your spouse can keep you honest. I'm a little bit competitive. That said, I'm also a human being who hates those cold, dark, windy, and rainy mornings as much as any normal person. It's slightly easier to pull the covers off in the morning if I'm heading to the track with Scott to run intervals on a blustery, cold morning. I can't look like a wimp in front of my man.

Baby, it's cold outside. Pretending to be tough for each other.

7. Divide and Conquer. Since we're often training for different events, which might mean different distances or different terrain (road vs. trail), we will sometimes do partial runs together. Last year, I was training to run 50 miles and Scott is sane so he wasn't. Scott would run five to 10 miles with me, then go grocery shopping (eat, shower, watch a movie), then come back to pick me up at the end of the trail. Yeah, we both felt spoiled; me because I didn't have to run out and back (or grocery shop), and Scott because he only had to run 5 miles instead of 25.

8. My hero. We've saved each other's bacon a couple of times in the last two years. Scott is awesome at bringing and carrying an extra light. Apparently, I turn my head a lot when I run so if I wear a head lamp, it's like a strobe and everyone gets dizzy. Scott is awesome with the headlamp or he'll carry knuckle lights so we can both see and avoid a skunk on the trail. True story and, gosh, isn't he sweet? I've saved his booty a couple times too by carrying WAY too much food or water for just myself. Dried apricot, Nuun, PB&J?

He's happy because I just shared my sandwich.

What about you? Do you run with your spouse?

Are there more benefits that I forgot to mention?

Are there other activities that you do enjoy doing with your spouse?

Road vs.Trail: A roadie's lessons from a year running trails

In the Fall of 2016, I lost my mind I decided that I wanted to challenge myself and spend 2017 running on trails. Just so we're clear, I am NOT a trail runner. I told a guy at the beginning of Mary's Peak 50-miler: “I'm just a 10K runner pretending today.” And, that wasn't far from the truth. My challenge was to do the kind of running that I'm not particularly good at and to culminate the experience by running a 50 miler. I ran 5 trail races in the last year, each one progressively longer:

• 8K (Kevin's Cup Trail Run, November 2016)
• 25K (Hagg Lake Mud Run, February 2017)
• 18 Miles (Hot Springs Trail Run, April 2017)
• 50K (Soaring Eagle Trail Run, May 2017)
• 50 Miles (Mary's Peak,Trail Run, June 2017)

After finishing the 50 miler, I ran a few shorter road races (5K, 10K) and got the itch to run a road marathon. My last marathon before this one was the Newport Marathon in 2015, so, yeah, I'm rusty. I selected the Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon [MCGM] for 2 main reasons. First; my dad, brother, future sister-in-law and niece (along with numerous extended family) live very close to the course and second; the race is in December. Most marathons tend to be in the Spring or Fall which means training happens in the Winter or Summer. Since, MGCM is in December, training could happen during my favorite season: Fall. That sealed the deal.

I completed the Mississippi Gulf Coast Marathon this past Sunday. After spending a year running on trails, I noticed that there are a number of differences between racing on the roads versus the trails.

Here are the TOP 10 DIFFERENCES:

 

1. You make it hurt so good. Roads are hard on your feet! OMG. My feet. They hurt so terribly by mile 6, I wasn't sure I could actually keep letting them hit the ground for 20 more miles. A series of thoughts circled in my head:

• “Maybe these shoes have too many miles and there's no more cushioning.”
• “My feet didn't hurt at all during training.”
• “Is this road made out of solid concrete?”
• “I think my feet would feel better if I was just beating them with a hammer.”
• “Take faster steps so there's less contact time”
• “I've turned into a baby having been spoiled running races on mud and dirt the last 12 months!”
   

2. I'm going the distance. I'm going for speed. You can run a faster pace on the roads. Okay, duh. There are no slippery rocks to ski down, or sneaky tree roots to catch a toe on, and no crazy cliff edges upon which you are teetering between staying alive and breaking a bone, losing your front teeth or worse. Thus, you can go (a lot) faster. The problem, initially, was that I wasn't accustomed to running fast. That first “fast” training session, I thought my shoe was going to fly off. Dang! I re-laced my shoes and over the 16 weeks of training, I actually started running faster. What? You mean training works? Who knew?



Mile 20. I finally passed the runner behind me for good.



3. It's the thrill of the fight, risin' up to the challenge of our rival. People are WAY more competitive during road marathons vs. trails runs/ultras. “People” are more competitive? Hmm...OK fine, it's me. On Sunday, I spent at least 10 miles trading places with another female runner. Why would she not just relinquish and go away? She probably thought the same thing about me! During trail races, I would tell the people behind me that they could go ahead and pass me, but 9 times out of 10, the person would say, “Oh. I'm fine back here.” Nobody really cared about who was in front.

 

4. Be careful not to choke. Eating and drinking are more challenging during road races because I don't let myself stop. That means I am trying to take in fluids and nutrition while running. It's nearly impossible to eat or drink gracefully without choking, spewing, and later developing aspiration pneumonia. I was SOOO out of practice for doing this having spent a year taking my time fueling up at trail aid stations. On the roads, gels are fairly easy to swallow while running, but try drinking water or Powerade from a cup while running. Gah. At some point I ended up with Powerade in my eye. Don't ask.

Aid station grace at Mary's Peak

5. If it smells like funk. Elimination timing really matters. I have paranoia about having to pee (or more!) while racing a road marathon. I'm not going to wet myself, but stopping during the race is out of the question. Wearing Depends would cause more harm than good (I don't want to imagine the chafing), so I end up being obsessive about going beforehand. At the MGCM, I went through the port-a-potty line 3 times before the race. During an Ultra-marathon, the forest provides endless possibilities for relieving oneself, so it's essentially a non-issue.



Slow goin' on mossy rocks.
Kevin's Cup

6. I hear the clock tick. I care more about my finish time. It's true. Maybe if I felt like I was at all competitive during trail races (um, faster), I might care more about my time for those. Speed is not a priority. Like I've said, during a road marathon I don't want to stop to eat or go to the bathroom, whereas during trail race, I stop at aid stations and eat real food. During the trail races, I would stop and eat bananas, my homemade plantain waffles with almond butter, watermelon, dried apricots, and plantain chips. I also make “pit stops” to go potty if needed (usually at an aid station port-a-potty, but I can't swear that was always true).

7. Steady as she goes. It's easier to run a consistent pace on the roads. On the trails, there are just so many more variables. There are even things that cause injury and death: roots, rocks, cliffs, and hills that go up for 1200 feet at a time! My mile splits could vary by 10 minutes on the trail depending on the terrain and elevation change. On the road, mile splits might only vary by 30 seconds.





Laughing my way to the finish line
@ Hagg Lake

8. Why so serious? There is less smiling and laughing during the race. I've outlined above a few reasons why road marathons are more serious. I noticed that I was smiling in more in the pictures taken on the trail this past year than during my road marathons. However, I had a BIG smile when I saw my dad at the finish line on Sunday!

 

9. Our time is short. My training time for this road marathon was a million times shorter. I enjoyed time on the trails, but between driving to/from the trail and the longer time it takes to cover the distance, I found I was spending up to 3-4 hours a week longer in training to run a similar mileage.

10. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. Sometimes, running long distances on a road or a trail looks the same near the end. Whether it's on soft single track in the depths of the coast range or on a road overlooking sandy beaches, the race can chew you up and spit you out. During the last part of any long race, there is always some carnage. People are walking, shuffling crying, trying to massage or stretch their legs. A guy I passed at Mary's Peak around mile 40 said, “This race is no joke!”

Yeah, after Sunday, I'd say no road marathon or trail ultra really ever is. 

Everyday I'm shuffling. Finish line @ Soaring Eagle 50K

I'm back to running, and thinking about that label "Special Needs"

Did I mention that I'VE BEEN RUNNING?

It's true. Huzzah. I ran 13 miles last week and I'll probably run about 20 miles this week. The hamstring is feeling pretty good, not perfect, because it feels kind like it's weak. Um, because, it is. Lame.

I can barely explain how wonderful it has been getting back into my dusty old running shoes. I work through a lot of crud in my head when I'm out running. I don't process my life's worries as easily while doing the dishes or driving. This week, my son has been weighing heavily in my thoughts during my miles.

When our kids were small, my wise sister-in-law said, “I think easy babies are boring. It's much more fun to have a spirited child.” At the time, I wasn't so sure. I wished for a baby that would sleep contently in a car seat, or a toddler that I could take to a restaurant. That wasn't in the cards, but I wouldn't change out my hand, now.  Last week, you could say that I've been anything but “bored” with my challenging 12-year old.

Recently, while I was running, I was listening to a Podcast and a woman mentioned that she was with her “special needs daughter” who had “ADHD.” I said out loud for everyone on Fanno Creek trail to hear, “ADHD is not Special Needs!”

Maybe because my son is diagnosed with ADHD/ADD, I had a knee jerk reaction to the label “Special Needs” when it comes to ADHD. I've always thought that it was a label for a condition or diagnosis that is more serious and all encompassing, like Autism, Down Syndrome, or Cerebral Palsy. Maybe that is a fallacy? Maybe I've been deluding myself into thinking that because I don't want my kid to have such a label? Honestly, I'm not sure.

Hmm...there it is: ADHD

Jude is now 12 and in the 6^th grade. As with any child and any age, there are trying, demanding, unpleasantly surprising, but also loving, quiet and carefree times. Jude has many fantastic traits, but he also has struggles. This last week, he and I have been having a tough time working together. I know what he needs to do, but getting him to comply is the problem. I'm sure that many parents feel this struggle.

 

 

Dysgraphia. Luckily, we are in the digital age.

In addition to his diagnosis of ADD, he also has dysgraphia (difficulty with handwriting such that it's illegible and nearly impossible for him to do). Given these challenges, school has been less than a stellar place for Jude. We've struggled the last 6 years because in spite his challenges, Jude also has very high test scores (we're talking 98 percentile), and a very high IQ (yeah, probably a lot higher than mine, little brat). You may not think so, but it was a disadvantage for Jude to score well on tests, but actually NEED help in the classroom beyond that of other students in order to complete his work.

At the end of the last school year, we finally got more specific help for Jude with an IEP [Individualized Education Plan]. The psychologist remarked during the IEP meeting, “we've never had a kid with test scores THIS high in Special Ed.” And, that's when it hit me:

Special Ed.

Special Needs.

My kid is...well, Special.

In my heart, I've always known this. Even now, I have to remind myself daily that what is expected from other kids his age isn't a fair measurement because his brain is disorganized. At the same time, in other ways, he's light-years ahead of other kids, so again the expectations are different. He needs outside assistance to stay on track, but he fights this constantly. It will probably be this way at least for a while until he matures enough to realize that you have to work for what you want. What else is there to do? I have to keep helping him succeed, until he can do it on his own.

Why? Because I know that with perseverance and hard work something special will come from my intelligent, messy, argumentative, fun-loving son. Like my slow come back from this annoying hamstring injury, I know Jude's success won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

A Sixth of Firsts: The 2015 Holiday Half Marathon

As I'm sure you've just read, Melissa has been nursing an injury to her leg for a few weeks. The morning of the Holiday Half she decided she would not try to compete. Instead, she offered to run with me to help stay on my goal pace. In six years of running this race, we've never done it together.

I also lost my iPod (temporarily), so Melissa let me borrow hers. Since she wasn't racing, she said, she would be able to just enjoy the holiday music, carolers, and cheering fans. Sadly, the headphones I brought didn't want to produce any sound. In six years of running this race, this would the be first time I'd done it with no music.

Rupp behind Mo Farah in the 2012 Olympic 10,000m Final. (AP Photo/Anja Niedringhaus)

This was also the first time we were able to see an elite, professional runner compete in this race. Olympic silver-medalist Galen Rupp was running this one, possibly to qualify for the Olympic Marathon. Since the race is out-and-back, we got to watch him run by. He looked amazing, focused, but barely working hard. At least, that's how he appeared in the second or two we could see him. He was at least 10 minutes ahead of the second-place finisher.

Finally, this was the first race I've run that was canceled part-way through. Fortunately for us, it was after we finished, but hundreds of runners were not able to finish at all. When we were about six-and-a-half miles in--not long after the St. John's Bridge--I heard what I thought were some train cars banging around. The course is not far from the Willamette River, and much of it overlooks the freight terminals of the Port of Portland. The sound was similar to one I'd hear when running on a certain stretch of the Wildwood Trail (on the opposite side of the river), and I'd always imagined they were coupling freight cars. That, or something huge was being loaded or unloaded down there.

A few minutes later, as we turned on to St. John's Avenue, I looked to my right and saw a huge, black plume of smoke. "Oh shit, look at that!" Seconds later, we heard the sirens. It occurred to me then that I'd heard an explosion, not some coupling cars. For the next three miles or so, the skyline was dominated by the towering pillar. Something was obviously on fire, but I didn't know enough about that part of town to know what it could be. Heading back toward the bridge, I got a better idea. Eventually we had to run through it, though the wind had shifted and it wasn't all that bad for us. I glanced over just after passing under the bridge, and I could see the flames. A spectator nearby said it was "oil cars" that blew up. OK, well, he didn't sound too concerned. We'd later learn that a driver was killed when he lost control of his truck and slammed into train cars carrying asphalt. We also learned that the race directors opted to cancel the race after the smoke became too thick.

I shifted my focus back to the race, because the smoke was behind us. At that point, I realized I hadn't asked Melissa how she was feeling. "I'm OK," she said. "If you need to go, then go." "No," I said, "I don't." We were climbing up the hill toward Mile Marker Nine, and I really didn't feel like doing anything but stopping. I walked a few steps at the water station then powered up the rest of the hill.

For the first six miles, we had been right on my goal pace. But we slowed down to get some water at one point, and also as we started the long, slow climb back from the turnaround. By the time we hit the Bridge again, we had been off the pace for a few miles. I really didn't want to lose anymore time, and I tried to just keep up the same effort level and not back off. I could still try beat my old time, even if I couldn't meet my stretch goal of breaking an hour and 43 minutes.

Having passed the race's tail-end, everyone around us was running about the same pace in the same direction. (Except Galen Rupp, that is. He won the race handily, then decided to go back out on the course for his cool-down. He breezed by in the opposite direction when I was around mile 9.) For a little while, I thought Melissa was right behind me--I even thought I recognized her breath. Afterward, she would tell me that I left her behind at that water station. She couldn't hold onto the pace, and didn't want to hurt herself even more.

Usually by this point in a race, I'm feeling pretty crappy. Melissa and I have chalked this up to my nutrition, which I could discuss at length. Suffice it to say that I've had success with eating more before and during races and long runs, and that was my plan today. I passed the 10-mile marker feeling very full and began rethinking. The daunting logistics of opening a packet of gel, sucking it out, then trying to gulp down some water would do little to help my focus. I opted to leave the gel in my belt and see what happened. Maybe it was foolish, but I actually felt strong with only 5K remaining. Plus, I didn't want to feel sick.

By now I knew I was running alone. Melissa was somewhere back there, probably a few yards, but not going to catch up. I hoped she really was OK.

As I turned onto the bluff on Willamette Boulevard, a wave of fatigue washed over me. Damn. I still had the gel packet, but still didn't want to attempt it. There were only 2.1 miles to run. I had to hold onto this, which meant pushing just a little harder. Seconds later, a runner passed me on the left and I immediately tried to make him my focal point. I couldn't catch him, so I started picking out other people to pass instead. I've heard this is a tried-and-true strategy, but I've never felt competitive enough to try it. It was tough, but the 12th mile was my fastest of the race--by about 20 seconds!

Finally, I turned onto Greeley Avenue to see the finish line. I didn't have much left, but I laid it all down. Since my first time running the Holiday Half, my main fear at that point has always been tripping right before the finish. It's downhill and there are timing mats on the ground to negotiate. I know, I know, but it's scarier when you're sprinting in front of scores of spectators while listening for the announcer to mispronounce your name.

As I closed in, I saw that the race clock read, “1:42:45”. Wow, I had actually done it! Just then, a guy right in front of me tripped and tumbled to the ground. "Oh, shit!" I yelled, then slowed down to ask if he was OK. He looked up, bleary-eyed, and grunted that he was. In that split second, I decided to finish the race then come back to help. As soon as I crossed the final mat, I turned around to see him getting to his feet. As he crossed the line, I checked with him one more time.

I crossed at 1:42:56, but my official time was one hour, 42 minutes and 44 seconds. That is around 40 seconds faster than my previous best time. I really could not be happier with this finish. Like Melissa, who finished just a few minutes later, I spent much of this training cycle (and most of the year) with a nagging injury: tendinitis in my knee. It's certainly not as bad as hers, but I never felt like I recovered the speed I had last year. My workouts were always sluggish, and only a few of the long runs actually felt good. I figured it would be a push to even reach my old PR.

Usually, going into a race I have a decent idea of my potential. OK, so I didn't win first place, but this may have been the first time in six years that I have so drastically underestimated myself.

This is Not the Injury I Was Looking For (No STAR WARS spoilers)

You know that you are an injured runner when you're envious watching the STAR WARS Episode 7: The Force Awakens. I won't spoil anything for those who haven't seen the movie by telling you that some of the characters run a bit. As they were dashing around the screen, I stared at them with great longing.

Seriously, who does that?? A runner who can't run. Right now, I can't jog across the theater parking lot without my right leg whimpering. A few weeks ago, my right leg started hurting right where my hamstring inserts into my ischial tuberosity. FAN-FREAKING-TASTIC. Proximal Hamstring Tendonitis. As if that wasn't bad enough, I was about 10 days out from a race, the Holiday Half Marathon.

If you're not familiar with proximal hamstring tendonitis, it makes your butt hurt. Every single time my right foot makes contact with the ground, my butt hurts. And, like the STAR WARS craze right now, it is simply impossible to ignore. It got so bad during an easy run that I was relegated to walking, and then trying butt exercises and stretches to relieve the pain. That helped zero, but I'm sure I looked really cool rubbing my butt with my fist on the side of the road. Sadly, I ended up hobbling home the best I could. I took a 4 days off, then tried 3 miles. It felt better but it wasn't fixed. Against my better judgment, I ran the race anyway. It was awful, big surprise. It felt like someone was stabbing my butt with a hot poker every time I took a step.



That's no moon. It's a race medal!

When I hung up my gigantic medal after the race, I thought of Clark's boss, Mr. Shirley, in Christmas Vacation saying, “Put it over there with the others, Greazeball.” There was no satisfaction in finishing a race that I'd limped my way through on the verge of tears.





Look at my running shoes. Patient. Cute. Reflective.

The pain has forced me to keep my running shoes neatly on their rack. I'm not running, but I'm not someone who can just lay on the couch holding my butt and crying. And, my leg doesn't hurt when I'm not running on it. So, that leaves lots of other exercise besides running. Weight training, yoga, stair climbing, plyometrics, cycling.





 

 

 

 



Enter my new exercise buddy. This is Jesse. My trusty steed has been around for a while, but we've now become like besties. Isn't he handsome? I can ride my bike anytime, except that I have to give myself some breaks because the seat isn't all that comfortable day after day. Hamstring tendon feels fine. I'm smiling because I just started riding.

After spending an hour at the gym this morning working out indoors, I know that running outside without pain will be worth waiting for.  Not unlike Episode 7, right?  Maybe when I can run again, I can tell you more about how STAR WARS relates to running, but for now, we'll just have to wait.

What I find on the Trail: Flow, Hobbits and Vertical Leaps

I take a class at the gym weekly called, “Functional Training.” At one point, we were doing squat jumps and the instructor walked over to me and said, “Your jumps look great. You must have played Volleyball.”  NOPE. “Basketball?” Not unless you count playing in 8^th grade, uh, like 25 years ago. “Ballet dancer?” Ha! Perish the thought.  I laughed about that for days.  


Pretty sure Lucy and I are kindred spirits when it comes to ballet

I wasn't brave enough to say what was in my head, “No, no...I'm just a runner.”

Who would have guessed that a runner might be good at vertical jumping? Surely, you MUST do something else because running isn't really athletic. To many non-runners, running is what you do to condition yourself for your chosen sport. To others, there isn't really any skill involved so running doesn't improve overall athleticism. Running is just a tad harder than say, walking, right? And, walking is easy, so.... Come on, is it really that simple? Let's consider not only the physical challenge of running, but also the mental aspect that accompanies any type of competitive running.

I've been reading all about the mental side of running the last few months. From “Elite Minds: Creating the Competitive Advantage” by Dr. Stan Beecham to “The Rise of Superman: Decoding the Science of Ultimate Human Performance” by Steven Kotler, I've been taken in by how and why we can use our minds to push our bodies for better performance. Further, one of the most fascinating parts of our mind/mental state is something called Flow.  Not Aunt Flo, you Weirdos. 

What the heck is a “Flow State,” you ask? Simply put, it's an amazing phenomenon that happens when people are deeply focused on a challenging task. In his article “Locking into Flow” in the August 2014 issue of Running Times, Phil Latter, wrote,“in flow, your concentration locks onto the task at hand. You feel invincible, confident that your well-honed abilities will meet any challenge you encounter, even as the energy you expend feels effortless.”

Runners aren't the only people who find themselves tapping into flow. Musicians, artists, writers, computer programmers, surfers, extreme snowboarders, and even rock climbers are often working in a “flow state” when they complete their best work, most challenging tricks, or personal bests.  Think Michael Jordan when he couldn't miss a shot---that's flow.

Laird Hamilton had to tap into flow to tackle this monster wave.

What helps us get to this fabled “Flow State?” Much of that is dependent finding the right challenge for the skill level that you possess at the time. Often our skills are beyond where we generally work because we refuse to challenge ourselves outside the comfort zone.  Most of the time we take the path of least resistance.

I know that I am most definitely guilty of cruising on Easy Street. Hey, it's comfortable for me to slip out my front door, slog out 5-7 miles at an easy pace around my neighborhood. I know that recovery runs are important for my body, and easy runs are also generally when I can think about my day---work, appointments, dinner. We generally don't find ourselves working in flow every time, but when we do, it's magical.

Last Thursday, I ran 11 miles in Forest Park on Wildwood Trail. The rain was furious and unrelenting. My fingers were wrapped around my 18-ounce hand-held water bottle, and all five of them had turned into white water-logged mini prunes. Water rolled off the brim of my hat onto my already soaked clingy long-sleeved t-shirt. The trail was sticky in spots like peanut butter, filled with downed twigs and branches, and scattered with ankle-deep puddles. Maybe, it's something in my subconscience, or the fact that I keep seeing a certain “Lord of the Rings” book lurking around my house, but there is one part of the Wildwood trail where I swear I am going to see Froto and Samwise step out from behind a tree. No joke.

The book that is laying around everywhere.

I knew they were out there hiding behind a tree.

Last Thursday, I breathed in the foggy mist and smiled to myself. I felt happy. Trails help me find myself running in flow since I have to be aware of every foot placement, root, and puddle and can't just daydream or plan my weekly menu. I have to focus and concentrate solely on the moment. Running in a flow state is all together different than just going out for a jog around the neighborhood. Somehow during the process of running in this hyper-focused state, the run itself melts away all the hard choices and messy emotions I may have had floating in my head prior.

I feel blessed to have running to thank for giving me the ability to find flow and move through life differently as a result. Not to mention all that bounding over puddles, rocks, and tree limbs makes me able to jump higher, and then strangers think I must play a “sport” like basketball or volleyball. No way. I am just a runner. But, if you ask me, that in itself is pretty special.

Against All Odds: Mixed Up Weekend

Have you ever noticed that Jude Law looks remarkably like Phil Collins? I know, the world is not fair. But, it's a true story.

Jude is on the left. For reals.

 

Ok, so now you want to know why or how we stumbled on pictures of said aging, hair-receding hunk? Well...

It started innocently enough. It always does, doesn't it? It snowballs into surfing the web for aging actors so easily. We were listening to “Riptide” by Vance Joy. The lyrics say: "I swear she's destined for the screen, closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen."

That led to Scott to say, “Michelle Pfeiffer.? Was she in Batman? Or wait, was that Kim Basinger?”

To which I replied, “Michelle Pfeiffer was Catwoman. There's no way Kim Basinger was Catwoman. She was...um.,Vicky Vail.” Not sure how he mixed those two up? Hello.

This lead Scott into looking up various 80s stars. At one point, Scott said, “Well, Catherine Zeta-Jones, no one else could come close to her.” I said, “Yep, she has a flawless face.” Then, I remarked, “You know who is truly flawless? Jude Law.”  Nowadays, I guess that makes Phil Collins flawless, too.  "...It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all."

They ARE like crazy flawless, no?

 Earlier today, we ran 16 miles for our long run. We usually run long on Saturdays, but I felt weary, tired, and worthless, so I talked myself and Scott into saving it for Sunday. When I whispered to Scott at 5:30 am on Saturday morning, “let's run long tomorrow and do a short run later this morning.” Scott said, “Can't. It's against your religion.”

"You're the only one who really knew me at all." Damn, Phil Collins, you got us.

It's true I never like to run long on Sundays. I channel Larry the Cable guy and say let's “Git-R-Done.” On Friday, I had admitted to Scott that I didn't think it was wise to try to run the Hagg Lake 50K. We just didn't have time to train properly for it. We were slated to run 26 miles on Saturday. My plan was to run on Wildwood Trail for 17 miles, then run home from there for the final 9 miles. Thinking about that run was making me feel sick---I knew my body wasn't ready. Sometimes, you have to listen to your body. I could see the relief on Scott's face.

Today, we ran the road section out and back toward the Wildwood Trail. It got colder as we cruised up, up, up Cornell Road. At one point, there was a sign that said, “500 Feet.” Geez, that's nearly the Alps for us Valley Dwellers. Brr. For once, gloves were a good idea.

As we were floating down the hill on Cornell we stopped at a traffic light. I glanced at the car coming to the light to make sure it was going to stop, then proceeded. That's when I felt Scott's arm across my chest, and heard him yell, “DON'T GO!!” Tires were squealing to a stop. I looked up to see a young woman with her hands over her mouth, then my eyes darted to the traffic light to confirm that it was indeed still RED. We were almost run over by an idiot running a red light.

I am usually SO vigilant; I never trust drivers. She came out of nowhere, and I think that's just how it happens. That is how my children would have become orphans. I know, I know...let's not get all crazy with the “what ifs”



The waterfall from the Larry Vincent Bridge.

While running through the rather quaint part of Cedar Hills, we ran by a beautiful waterfall, with a sign telling us it was the “Larry Vincent Bridge.”  Scott commented that Larry Vincent was only 15 years old when he died. Larry died. We nearly died. I was struck by the parallel if only for an instant. We later learned that Larry was an avid runner and loved running in that beautiful area of Cedar Hills. I bet back in 1977 there weren't as many cars and Larry didn't worry about young women running red lights.

 

We mixed it up this weekend...against my religion and against all odds, and stuff. Yesterday, I noticed that my new socks were labeled for RIGHT and LEFT. Nice. Of course, I had them on backwards.

Mixed up my apparently labelled socks.

We ran before lunch on our favie stretch of Fanno Creek Trail with the kids on their bikes. It was so much fun, I suggested we do it for all of our short weekend runs. It's nice cause the kids can carry our HUGE new phones. Less weight=faster, right?

After lunch, we registered for most of the races we will be running for the next 6 months. In 2015 we're mixing it up and running longer races. We AREN'T doing the 10K Series. 2015 will bring a big ole half-marathon at Y2K in January, a trail 25K at Hagg Lake in February (just not ready to run the 50K this year), 30K at Champoeg in March (Scott is running the 10K). Then, we reserved our hotel room for May 30th for the Newport Marathon. Scott hasn't decided if he's running the marathon. I think he will. :) I will probably run around Hagg Lake on the roads, too, on May 2nd for 10.5 miles.

Finally, I'm vying for Scott to run this cool looking 50K up at Point Defiance in Washington in October. What better way to celebrate 15 years of marriage? Have to find some nice family member to watch the kids though because filling up water bottles and leaving out bowls of cereal is looked down upon unless you are leaving a cat for 3 days.  It will work out because I know when I hear Scott singing "Riptide" he's thinking about running 31 miles with me near Puget Sound.

"Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I want to be your left hand man."