Caught in the Crosswalk not the Crossfire

This morning, I went for my usual Sunday 6 mile run. Sunday runs are quiet, slow, and usually a time for reflection about whatever is on my mind. It was a little bit slippery but the blue sky and the shining sun made up for any initial shivers.



Something has been on my mind. With

United Nations Disarmament Statue. UN Headquarters, NYC.

the shootings in Connecticut and being a mother of children who are in the age-range of the children who were brutally and senselessly murdered, thoughts about guns and schools have been weighing heavily on me. Those little faces have been on my mind. I don't want to get into too much talk about gun control---really, own one if you want. This I know, I ABSOLUTELY do not want armed guards at my children's school. I don't want to teach my kids that they need to live in fear and that they need to be protected by firearms against the terrible people of the world. I don't want to live in a police-state where every place we go there is someone standing ready to shoot someone else. Ugh, it's like a bad action movie. I've told my children that we don't own a gun because we don't want to shoot anyone. I'd rather think that I don't wish ill will toward anyone.


In fact just the other day, a friend of mine pointed out, "I thought you were 'Life is awesome Melissa?"' Yes, well, I try to be positive, but it wasn't always this way. Maybe it was working in the service industry in my early years (Taco Bell Cashier, Hostess at a Restaurant in the Airport!) that made me think that people were selfish, cheap, dirty, jerk-faces lacking any sense of manners or ability to treat the people serving them with human dignity. My dad used to say, "maybe working with 'the public' isn't for you??" Indeed, a nice job in the college library was more up my alley.


Nowadays, usually I find it pointless to dwell on the negative. Usually, I think that you have to look for the silver lining when you can because otherwise you can drown so easily in the bad things around you. But, that doesn't necessarily come naturally to me. Those jerks in the world can suck you in, and it's hard not to fall into the "hate-them-back" trap. My feelings about the lowness of humanity can come back even when I least expect it.

Like today.

I was waiting for the "WALK" signal at an intersection. After a few close calls with drivers, I am pretty cautious. So, today, I was on the right side of the road, and noted that there was a car waiting to turn LEFT (which would cross over the crosswalk I would soon be entering). His signal was a YIELD to oncoming traffic. I was oncoming "traffic." The light changed and I waited a moment to make sure this gent was going to YIELD to me. He didn't make a move, so I jumped off the curb and set off running in the crosswalk. I was about 1/3 of the way across AND, then, I saw him headed straight for me. I screamed, "Oh, shit!" put up my hands, and turned quickly to run back to the side where I was. He slowed down, BUT instead of letting me go, he drove right on through. It was my right-of-way. MINE! Adrenaline took over and I yelled a litany of profanities that would make a sailor blush. I was jumping up and down, flipping the bird. Beyond pissed.

My heart is racing just typing this story. Bastard. Mother-F*%ker!! What did he think he was doing? What a huge jerk!

And, it took me about a mile to think about what my friend had said to me. I'm the "silver-lining" person, right? What could I pull from this experience?  I really, really, wanted to think that guy was an asshole who didn't deserve to be driving. He should have his driver's licence revoked. Too bad, I was too busy yelling to notice his licence plate number. I am glad that I was paying attention and not blindly just running through since most of the time, I don't trust drivers to notice me. I didn't really trust this guy either, and that's probably why things worked out ok. I am not going to make excuses for this guy. HE WAS WRONG. But, I thought maybe his mind was elsewhere while he was driving and he didn't see me (obviously). Shoot, maybe his wife left him, or he was late for work, or his dog died?? Dang, sounds like a country song, but really, I am glad that one of us was paying attention. Me hating this guy probably won't make me feel any better.

Deep breaths. It's ok.

Even at the height of my emotional response to potentially getting run over, I didn't want to shoot that guy. Well, I kind of wanted to punch him for just a second. Does that make me a bad person?? Maybe. Thoughts aren't actions. I'd love to be one of those awesome Buddhist types who doesn't even consider retaliation and only looks to love that person who has done them wrong.  <HUGS>. Um, no, if threatened directly without any true means of peaceful escape, I would most certainly try to fight back. However, I'm pretty unlikely to throw the "first punch." Yes, I got mad at that guy today, but I'm not going to keep on getting mad at him. I'm not going to be afraid to run through crosswalks just because there are people out driving like this guy. We can only control our own actions and reactions to a situation.

That's the message I want to teach my children. I feel like I would do more damage teaching them to be afraid. I don't want my kids to feel like someone is going to come into their school to shoot them. That's the only reason why there would be an armed guard outside their classrooms to protect them. So, let's not make children more laden with anxiety and tension. I'd rather teach them an awareness about people who should be avoided, and how to show acceptance whenever possible to others--even those mean peers. Kill them with kindness? Yes, I think so.

Not Sweating the Small (or Big) Stuff

At the beginning of the year I set some, what I thought were, fairly lofty running related goals for the race distances that I generally run. At that time, I hadn't even considered running a marathon. That idea didn't hatch until March. In truth, the marathon training probably was a huge asset to me recently reaching some of my targets.

I wouldn't even call them "goals" as such. It was more of questioning what I was capable of doing racing-wise in 2012.

In January I wrote: "Can I run under 21 in the 5K, under 43 in the 10K, under 1:35 in the Half-Marathon??"

It took almost to the end of this year to reach 2/3 of those time related goals. 5K PR on 11/22 of 20:41; 10K PR on 9/23 of 42:24. I haven't run under 1:35 in the half-marathon distance yet. Heck, I haven't run under 1:37. But with the Holiday Half coming up next week I will have my last chance to see what this body is capable of.

And, speaking of bodies. Mine has been a little different.

I was out running today before lunch. It was so nice out. Perfect temperature, slight breeze, the sun peeking out behind a handful of big billowy clouds.

I run with my iPod clipped to the strap of my sport's bra. It's been a great place for it until today. My iPod would not stay clipped to the bra. It just kept falling off. I tried to figure what the problem was and well, it became obvious to me pretty quickly. My "girls" were bouncing so much that the iPod was knocked off of the strap. Why? Well, I think my boobs are bigger than they've been. I know, I know TMI, Melissa, but really. Just gaining a little extra weight since the marathon has made me bigger...umm, everywhere, but most noticeably today, it was this area.

I don't really care too much, but the extra bounciness making my iPod fall off and down my shirt three times had me ready to chuck the fricken thing into the bushes. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em! My iPod became friends with my rack. I shoved that little thing in the bra and kept going. Worked fine. I'm not sure if it would work for a longer run. Today was an easy 5 miles, but I can imagine  that a 2 hour run would leave that little metal object impaled in my skin.

So, I guess I should...work off the post-marathon weight gain. Let's face it, I'm not running 50 or 60 miles a week, now. The little handful of Peanut M&M's or more drizzles of bleu cheese dressing on my salad adds up, now. I don't want to be obsessive. There's no way I'm going to weigh and measure my food. Nope. Just eat less. Lift weights more. Drink a little less wine. No problem.

So...what is the post about?? Well, it's just been more of mind dump today, but really I think it's about NOT obsessing. I am not obsessing about the race next week. AND, I'm not obsessing about my body. Whenever I put pressure on myself to run a certain time at a race, I don't do as well. Instead, I am not worrying about it, and I'm singing "Que Sera, Sera. What ever will be, will be..." La, la, la.

Epiphany

Yesterday morning, Scott and I hit the trail for a run that lasted little over 2 hours. While I was out there, running on tired, achy legs in the pouring rain, I came to realize why people run ultra marathons.

Ultra Marathons?? Yes, that's a race that is more than the typical marathon distance of 26.2 miles.  So, it might be anything from 50K (31 miles) to 100 miles or more. I guess I always figured that people who do 50-mile or 100-mile races must really love running. I mean, you'd have to really love something to do it for 6, 10 or even 24 hours, right? What about those people who vie for a spot to run the Badwater UltraMarathon? Holy cow, that's 135 miles through Death Valley during July with an elevation gain of 13,000 feet. That's just insane!

The mere thought of running the Badwater race, makes me cringe. Um, no, thank you. I mean, obviously, my hat is off to those crazy motherfuckers, er, I mean utterly elite, tough, and strong-willed athletes. I'm totally in awe of those folks. Personally, I can't imagine taking on such a challenge. You would have to have a passion for running that extends beyond the limits of most everyday runners. I am an everyday runner, and I don't have any desire to run more than say 3 or 4 hours. Period.

My very pedestrian runner self has read a little bit about ultra running. I've picked up Born to Run, and various articles in running magazines. I have wondered about the motivation and will that drives these people to run that long and far, and I always figured that there was something special about the people. But, yesterday, I came to a different realization about it. It is not only the superiority of the people who run almost endlessly. There is more to it.

First of all, I have noticed that most ultra marathon races are run on trails.  Coincidence? Doubtful.

Hagg Lake Trail 25K 2012

I have run a couple of trail races. Last year, I ran the Hagg Lake Trail Run 25K. Compared to any road race I've ever completed, this race can officially be put into the "Adventure" category. The race is affectionately called, "The Mud Run." And, that's no joke. I ran two training runs out there last year, but the muddiest day by far was race day. It was so slippery and wet, it was almost comical. I fell down at least 6 times, and so did everyone else. I was slipping so much going UPHILL that the woman behind me help give me a little "push" on my behind. I'm usually not too keen on the idea of someone touching my ass, but was very thankful to her for that shove. Thanks, Lady.

Sometimes, you need a push in the butt. Seriously.

I want to run more trail races. Running on a trail is different from running on a paved road or path in a lot of ways. Some would argue that trail running and road running are practically different sports. Maybe?  I have excuses for not finding the trails more during my runs.  The biggest is that I'd have to drive to the trail.  I already feel the time squeeze for getting my runs done.  But, I think that if you want to do something bad enough, you will find a way.  No excuses. What better way to force myself to run on trails (at least on the weekends) than to sign up for a trail race?   Hagg Lake Trail Race 25K here I come, AGAIN! This year, Scott is joining me for some muddy tromping.
 
Our official trail training started yesterday, when Scott and I took ourselves out to the Wildwood Trail in Forest Park. The trailhead where we started was pretty flat and fairly smooth. The steeper hills and switchbacks came along after a few miles. It was raining lightly and we loped along, noticing our already tired legs, discussing how we probably shouldn't have stayed out so late the night before. We ran in unison for the first few miles, but, at some point I realized that Scott wasn't right behind me anymore.

Then, it started raining harder. I mean, it was pouring so much that rain seemed to be coming down in sheets. I absolutely loved the giant onslaught of rain. It was perfect. All that rain made the trail "juicy." There were puddles, and squishy muddy spots that I had to navigate around. A few times, I just ran right through the puddles because it was easier than trying to quickly find a place to put my foot. On the trail, I have to be much more alert and careful. Rocks, holes, and tree roots are not my friends.

Scott running yesterday on the Wildwood Trail

The rain slowed to a light drizzle, and I was struck by the beauty of forest. A foggy mist had sunk into the valley of trees along the trail. The leaves that were left on the trees were mostly yellow, brown and rusty orange. Those colors against the backdrop of the green Douglas Fir and Western Red Cedar trees was breathtaking. The sounds of the rustling trees, rain falling into the puddles, and my own breathing and footfalls kept a nice, calm rhythm. I thought about how I could just run like this this ALL day.

And, that's when the idea of ultra marathons seemed to suddenly make sense. I had an epiphany of sorts.

It isn't just that the people who run ultra marathons love to run so much that want to run all day and night. No, obviously there is more to it than just that. At some point, the running is automatic: placing one foot in front of the other. But, the challenge is to keep themselves going when their bodies are telling them to stop. These special people have taught themselves to turn off that urge to quit, and find other things to make the experience worthwhile. I am sure that the factors that would make a 50-mile trail run doable vary from person to person, but nevertheless, there must be some common themes for everyone.

Yesterday, it finally clicked for me, "This is why they do it!" With the varied terrain of many trails, one has to be mindful in order to stay upright when it's muddy, rocky, or slippery. That is one of the things that keeps the long run interesting. The forest gives a sense of calm, and quiet but yet, there are always subtle noises if you are listening closely. And, undeniably, the beauty of the land, the fresh air, and the feeling of unleashed freedom help to keep people going for hours. And, hours. I would also surmise that the challenge of pushing to the limits of your own mental and physical abilities would be a huge factor.

These long races and runs aren't just about or for the sake of running, and running and running. It's also the environment of the race itself----the internal space of the runner's mind, AND the physical surroundings of the trails they run on.

My revelations yesterday made me feel inspired to go the distance.

And.Just.Keep.Going.

Sublimity

I posted before about a perfect sunrise run on New Year's and how it made me think about omens and ascribing meaning to the things we see.  This experience also reminded me how often I've had moments while running that I can only describe as transcendent, or sublime. When I think of something sublime, I think of an experience that defies description, something amazing that leaves us at a literal loss for words.  Sublimity is not a concept we can apply lightly.  I used the word "often," but that's misleading because I've only had a handful of these experiences in my entire life (and no, none of them were chemically enhanced). I can think of only four or five of them, and three happened while I was running. Since I've shared one, why not talk about a couple of others?

The first was during my longest race ever before I started considering myself a runner:  The Columbia Classic Moonlight Run in 2000.  This race started around sunset on the rim of the Columbia River Gorge and traveled down past Crown Point Multnomah Falls--15K in all.  The first three or four miles of the race are downhill, and I took them way too fast.  I actually felt great for that part (of course!) and was even chatting it up a bit with Melissa as we wound down to the flats.  I don't remember the exact mileage where I started hurting, but it wasn't long after we hit the literal bottom.  By that point it had gotten dark and, with no streetlights on the highway, the visibility was very poor.  Aside from Melissa running near me, I felt all alone and completely surrounded by darkness--this definitely contributed to my experience.

At some point after halfway, in despair of even finishing this race, I entered nirvana.  That's what I called it at the time, anyway.  All my pain and weariness seemed to float way and my mind simply shut off; I was absorbed into the night.  For lack of any other description, I was simply not there.  (In retrospect, nirvana was exactly the wrong term for this experience, as it was the antithesis of mindfulness.)

I don't remember this experience starting, nor do I know how long it lasted; I only remember suddenly snapping back to the reality of four miles left to run on chafing, exhausted legs and an aching stomach.  I had never wished more to go back in time than I did in the final miles of that race.  In all my running since the Columbia Classic, I haven't had that kind of dissociation.  I'd like to think it's because I'm more competitive with myself or more in-tune with my body and my running goals.  I don't really want to be completely mindless, however pain-free it is.

Another "sublime" moment also happened in the dark, but this time it was very early morning.  It was just another typical Saturday long run and I decided to go out to the Fanno Creek Trail.  I had to run down some well lit streets to get to the trail, so I didn't realize there was a full moon.  The first part of the trail goes through some thick forest behind a neighborhood, so again I couldn't see the sky well.  In fact, I don't remember even looking up until I had crossed through another very well lit area, over a footbridge, and into Greenway Park.

The sky opens up past that bridge, and when I crossed it and looked up, I nearly stopped running for lack of breath.  The full moon was right there, hanging so brightly over the trail in front of me, surrounded by silver scudding clouds.  The misty ground in this wetland area was also silver.  Everything was glowing silver.  It was the greatest painting of a moonlit night that no artist could ever create.  For moment, everything around me was absolutely perfect.  I forgot whatever had been on my mind.  I forgot the problems that were going on in my life, my struggles, my disappointments, my worries.  I wanted to stop running.  I wanted to just stand there on the trail and smile till the sun came up. 


All of this is leading up to a post about my motivations for running.  Unlike many runners, I haven't quite figured out exactly what those motivations might be, but MissMelissa's marathon certainly inspired me to explore them.  This post was definitely a start, but there is more to come.

Resurrected: Reflections on Running through Life

I wrote this piece about a year ago. Well, it was November 13, 2011, to be exact. I was so inspired, I just couldn't keep my thoughts in my head anymore. I had to write them down. I re-read this today, and can hardly believe how excited I am to run tomorrow.

For the last few weeks, or really since my week off after my first marathon in October, I have been less than inspired to run.  Really, my runs have not been very enjoyable.  They've been tiring, lack-luster, and somewhat boring. Frankly, my runs have been a chore.  They're just something else I HAVE to do, instead of something I WANT to do.  It was almost like doing the dishes, worse, it was like having to do the laundry. 

Yesterday, I had a great run, and everything just seemed to slip back into being "right" with the world. I am hopeful that it will continue.  This time of year is my favorite, and the beauty that I encountered yesterday was breathtaking. There was no ignoring the crisp air, gorgeous leaves, lovely fog dusting my face with dew.  I instantly knew why I am so drawn to running.  I like to race, but I really love to get out there.
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I often reflect on things that are going on in my life while I'm out running. Most of the time, it's just the everyday things...what to make for dinner this week, nice colors to paint the bedroom, trying to remember to sign up the kids for swimming lessons....
 
When I'm not checking off my 'to-do' list, one of the things I love most about running is just taking in the outdoors. I like examining each season for what it is: the warm sun on my arms and the roaming wildlife in the Summer; the blossoms on the trees and the smell of lilac in the Spring; Winter's blustery winds and sideways rain. I particularly like the Fall; the leaves turning beautiful shades of red, orange, and yellow. The early light showers of rain on my face and the smell of something new on the horizon. I've often said that you couldn't pay me to run on a treadmill---and it's never been more true than now.
 
I don't talk about running much to other people. Most folks just don't "get" it. And, really, I don't expect them to understand. It's a personal thing. More and more I have been thinking of running as a metaphor for life.
 
Running, like life, isn't always the same. Sometimes, my runs are smooth and easy and I get to a 'Zen-like' state where everything is working like it's supposed to. I have no worries. At times, when I am racing I feel like I have entered a different level of consciousness. I call it being on 'cruise mode', but really it's like dissociating from all things around me---the pain in my muscles, the other people nearby, the wind, the smell of the cars. EVERYTHING.

I have imagined that other people probably feel this way when they are in their particular 'zone', too...like artists, musicians, and even surgeons or computer programmers. It's a way of hyperfocusing on one thing---and everything else is quiet.
 
But, just like life, running isn't always rainbows and perfect smelling roses. Sometimes, I have to force myself out the door---like when I have a cold or feel like I only slept 15 minutes the night before. And, even when I feel pretty good---I don't LOVE every second. Like when I go to the track to run speed intervals. I know they make me faster and help me attain my PR goals, but I can't escape the feeling when I'm on the track that I'm like a dog on a 10 foot chain in the yard. In life, I don't like doing the dishes or vacuuming either, but I do like a clean house, so I do what it takes to get that done, too.
 


The shirt I bought last November. Sums it up nicely.

My running will never be perfect--but I love it. I recall going for a run on a blustery, COLD morning last winter, when it was 15 degrees. It was dark and windy. I had to wear to ski-type of hood, a scarf, and earmuffs to keep my face from freezing. Some people may have decided to use this sort of day as a rest day, but I was determined not to let ANYTHING, even the worst weather, stand between me and my run that day. And, it turned out to be one of most enjoyable runs to date---the fact that it was NOT perfect, made it an important part of my training.
 
That's the sort of determination and pushing the envelope that I think life requires of us. Certainly, there will be times when things are not ideal. Sometimes, the hand that you're dealt is unpleasant, but fold your cards and go home? I don't think so. You couldn't pay me to run on a treadmill in life either. Life is full of changes, and challenges--embrace them or fight them head on--don't stay inside and wait for them to go away.


Evidence vs. Peer Influence

DISCLAIMER:  This is not a post about what other people should do regarding child restraints. It's just an example of how we were able to use logic, reasoning, and evidence to explain our parenting decisions to our daughter.
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I seem to have reoccurring conversation with my daughter. Lately, it's been coming up more and more often.

My daughter, Maya, who is seven years old, asks, “Mom, why can't I sit in a booster seat?? I'm 7 and a half! All of my friends sit in boosters, and I still have to sit in this crummy car seat. I'm not a baby!” Peer influence is huge at this age. She thinks she should be doing what her friends are doing.

Usually, I simply tell her that I care about her safety and her car seat with the 5-point harness is safer than any booster on the market. I ignore the peer impact, because, I've felt like it was a simple answer: We really don't care what your friends are doing, we have decided that you will stay in your car seat. But, recently that simple statement didn't seem to keep her from arguing the point. She wanted to know WHY. Why are we forcing her to stay in her car seat???

I will tell you why. But, first, let me just report, if you don't already know, that:

INJURIES FROM MOTOR VEHICLE CRASHES ARE THE LEADING CAUSE OF DEATH FOR CHILDREN.

According to the CDC, “placing children in age- and size-appropriate car seats and booster seats reduces serious and fatal injuries by more than half.” HALF.  Notice, that they don't just talk about age. It's actually related to size as well. This concerns me a great deal because Maya is small, but as she points out, so are other children.

Here's one of Maya's recent examples of why she should be allowed to move to a booster seat. “Jessie*(another 7-year-old) doesn't sit in a booster, AND she rides in the front seat!”  And, well, she's right. I can't tell you how many times I have watched people driving away from our elementary school in newer cars (read: have front airbags), with their children in the front seat. Yes, in all cars with front airbags, there is a CLEAR label on the front side of the visor. Here's the one from our car.
 

 

 

 

 

I find it hard to believe that people will ignore something right in front of their faces. Obviously, they do, but, I don't care what other people think or do. I wanted to know what Maya thought, so I decided to have her read the visor after she was questioning me the other day. Yes, it says that the safest place for all children under 12 is the backseat. TRUE STORY. I told Maya that I will always chose the safest, least harmful option for her. She seemed to understand this written out explanation.

So, when Maya cited another friend as an example, “Mom, Sally* sits in a booster seat, and she is only 5 AND shorter than me!” I decided to let her read a little more evidence. This time, we decided to look at information from the AAP (American Academy of Pediatrics). I told Maya that there is a lot of motor vehicle crash research. We talked about how they do all sorts of experiments crash testing cars, and researching why and how people (and kids) die or are badly injured when they are involved in a crash. Based on the findings of this sort of research, the AAP, has released new guidelines based on the “best evidence” for keeping children safe.

 

Maya is, well, small for her age. At age 7, she weighs 44 lbs, so she's in the 9th percentile for weight, and is 47 ½ inches tall, placing her in the 22nd percentile for height. I tell her that she's just perfectly petite. And, she is.

Maya and I decided to have her look at the recommendations from the AAP:

All children 2 years or older, or those younger than 2 years who have outgrown the rear-facing weight or height limit for their car seat, should use a Forward- Facing Car Seat with a harness for as long as possible, up to the highest weight or height allowed their car seat’s manufacturer.

Maya has two car seats for each of our cars: the Britax Marathon and the Britax Regent. The Marathon has an upper weight limit of 65 lbs, while the Regent's is 80 lbs. The Marathon's upper height limit of 49 inches, and the Regent is 53 inches.  She is currently 44 lbs, and 47 ½ inches, so indeed, she will be in both the Marathon and Regent a bit longer.  But, finally, she seemed to understand that there was a REASON why we were having her stay in the car seat so long. We aren't just mean.

Maya and I also read through the information about booster seats:

All children whose weight or height is above the forward-facing limit for their car seat should use a Belt-Positioning Booster Seat until the vehicle seat belt fits properly, typically when they have reached 4 feet 9 inches in height and are between 8 and 12 years of age.

4 feet, 9 inches. NOT, 49 inches, as I have heard from more than one person. Seriously. That is actually 57 inches. Our son, who is 9 years old, and is in the 85th percentile for height is currently 55 inches. Yes, he will be sitting in his booster seat for a bit longer as well. And, you can bet your tail they will both being sitting in the backseat at least until they are 12!

What I loved about showing all this evidence to Maya was that she was able to understand the reasons why we are choosing this scenario for her. You have to level with children, at times. What other people choose to do, is not always the best situation for you. This can apply to SO many instances that will come up later in her life. Peer pressure and a desire to follow the crowd is huge. But, I want her to continually ask, WHY? Those people over there are doing that, why aren't we? This is why. Logic, reasoning and evidence worked well, this time.

I also told Maya that other people are free to choose what to do with child restraints in their own vehicles. We do what WE think is best. We can't decide for other people, just as we don't want them to decide for us. Just think what they might choose, right?!

Staying close

Anyone in my family will tell you that I almost never have any trouble falling asleep or staying asleep. That is, of course, when I am sleeping in my own bed at home. My kids, Jude (9) and Maya (7) even know that they probably won't wake me up, unless they knock or talk loudly in my presence. The exception is that I generally don't sleep well at all when my husband is out of town. It takes me a long time to fall asleep, and then usually, I am in for a restless night. Good thing he rarely travels or I would be more of a zombie.

A few weeks ago, while my husband was gone for business, I was just about to drift off WAY past my usual bedtime, when I heard a little cry. I thought, "Is that Maya crying?" I hurried out of bed and to the stairs leading up to where my children have their bedrooms. The little crying started again and I quickly realized that it was Jude. I headed up to check on him. He said that he had a nightmare, and couldn't get back to sleep. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked. 

"No" he said, "but can I come lay down with you for a little while?"

I said, "Sure." I thought,"Why not? It's not like I am going to sleep well anyway."

Jude came down with his favorite, very special stuffed dog, Lightning. I laid down on my side and he scooted himself close. There in the darkness, I felt a sense of calm, and of bliss. I was taking in the smell of his body wash from his recent shower, listening to him breathing quietly, and stroking his course hair. I felt completely in the present moment, and it was so comfortable to hold my son close---it was just like when he was 8 pounds, instead of 85.

If you know anything at all about 9 year-old boys, then, you know he was like a little furnace, and I was getting warm with him laying *right* next to me. I suggested, "Jude, you know you could slide over onto Daddy's side of the bed." He replied, "But I feel better laying right by you." 

That statement melted my heart, but it also it struck me. Jude rarely cuddles up with me at all anymore. I remember rocking him and holding him constantly when he was a baby. Sometimes, my arms would ache because I'd been holding him all day. As an infant, he would only sleep if he was right next to me or being held. He didn't outgrow this until he was 9 months old! Of course, through his toddler-hood and preschool years, he loved to cuddle up for bedtime stories, during movie night, and when he wasn't feeling good. These days, I have realized that although I give him little touches, and squeezes, he wasn't seeking much more than the occasional hug from me.

I am starting to wonder if cuddle time will become obsolete for me and my boy. As much as I hate the idea, I think maybe it's already started to go away. Even if cuddling goes away, I would like to think that he will trust me to comfort him forever when things aren't going well---when he's worried, scared or heartbroken. 

I know that contact is so important for us humans. And, it's not just the psychological aspect; there are brain chemicals released during hugs and cuddles. As a parent of children who appear to be “growing up” nearly daily, I think I may have to find ways to make sure our kids get contact we all need---even if they aren't seeking it. So, I think I will be more conscientious of making sure that we continue to be close throughout their growing years, teenage time, and into adulthood. These two kids are my special people and I want to make sure they always know it.

10K: The Perfect Race Distance

It seems like over the last few weeks or so, I’ve noticed several places where either bloggers, magazines or other running related outlets, have been asking runners which racing distance is their favorite. 

What Racing Distance Is Your Favorite:

5K? 10K? Half-Marathon? Marathon? Ultras—50K, 50-mile or even 100-milers??

For a lot of people who run, it is an interesting question to ponder.  After reading though the other people’s responses, I noticed (unscientifically, of course) that a lot of people prefer the half-marathon distance. One person said something like: “A half-marathon just long enough that you feel like you did something, but not too long to be overwhelming.”  Hmm, I don’t fall in step with these people.

After having now raced in 5 half-marathons, a marathon, and some sprinkled-in 5Ks, I still love running the 10K distance more than all others.  Maybe it’s because this is the distance I chose to race when I started racing back in July 2009? First love, perhaps?  It’s true that I fell in love with the10K and never looked back. I’ve heard that those who are born in the Aquarius sign are likely to fall in love quickly, and are very loyal. Maybe astrology is telling me something about running AND life?  Ha! Since that time, I’ve run more than 25 10Ks and counting.

But, why? Why do I love this 6.2 mile race more than any other distance?  What makes this distance special or different than any other?

The10K is important in its own way because you have to combine speed and endurance over the 6.2 miles.  Half-marathons and marathons are so much about endurance, mental planning and patience. My temperament doesn’t wait very well; I like to get things done, now, like right now!! And, the 5K is just a glorified sprint. From the moment you start a 5K you are running hard and nearly…almost, gasping for breath with your legs burning the whole way. Yikes.  

Hagg Lake 10K 2012

The 10K brings the two ideas together in a complete union.  Run fast, run steady, and keep running your body neither too fast nor too slow. Honestly, that’s the recipe for a Perfect 10K.  You are literally right on the edge of your anaerobic threshold---not quite out of breath, but not really able to speak more than a few words.  Your legs are tired, but not too tired. Your mind is thinking about running the part of the race you’re running right now, and nothing else. There are no concerns about how much is left to go or how you ran the previous few miles.

Running this way makes me feel like I’m doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.  When it all comes together, it is the best feeling in the world because it’s utterly quiet.  It’s just me out there---cruising along, moving forward, staying smooth and running the perfect race.  

Something Unexpected at the Portland Marathon

Now that my legs feel normal again and not like ground sausage, I am beginning to reflect on my first marathon experience.  They say the marathon is different from all other races. And, being a person who mostly runs 10k races, I always thought that was just what marathoners said to set themselves apart from “other distance runners."  Since I have essentially tied a neat bow on the Portland Marathon 2012, I can honestly say that it was truly different than any race I have ever run.  And, not just farther in distance or longer in time; it was physically, mentally and emotionally different.



A hot afternoon run in shady Forest Park



On race day, I felt ready. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t hastily jump into things.  I prepare, I plan, and at times, I fret. I had prepared physically by tirelessly following a 16-week training plan and logging more than 655 miles during that time. I felt mentally prepared by forcing myself to run on hot, humid afternoons and early mornings when I really didn’t want to run all.  On those warm days, I would have rather sat in the shade with a book, and when the alarm buzzed at 4:30am, I really wanted to stay in my lovely bed. I even set up my iPod playlist carefully to include slower songs at the beginning, increasing in tempo and intensity toward the end.

My plan going into the race was to run the first half slower than the second half.  My goal time was to run between a 3:30 and a 3:35.  I decided to follow Bart Yasso’s strategy for running a 3:30, since to run a 3:30, you need to run about an 8-minute mile overall.  Bart said to run an 8:05-8:10/mile for the first 10 miles, then an 8:00/mile pace for the second 10 miles, and then run the last 6 miles at 7:55/mile.  No problem.  This was completely doable.

I remember waiting at the starting line in the early morning.  I was full of anticipation, excitement and ready to move. I tried to stay loose, stretch, and relax. I heard so many voices running through my head. Friends who had wished me well, saying “No one trains as hard as you…you got this.” and, “Good luck today. You’re right in there to qualify for Boston.”  To “qualify” for Boston, you have to be in the top 5-10% of runners in the country for your age and gender [Boston qualifying time for my gender/age group is 3:40].  Boston?!? I had to put that out of my mind.

Relax.  Stick with the plan.

At the starting line, I saw a fellow runner friend with whom I had been running races for the last 2 years in the ORRC 10K Series. Brian and I always finish our 10K races within about 30 seconds of each other.  I see him at every race and he’s always very encouraging. Brian reiterated the idea of running the first half of the marathon SLOW.  Okay. I can run slow.



Around Mile 17. Still feeling pretty good.



The first 10 miles, I tried with great patience to run slow. Since I usually run 10k races, I am used to running 6:55/miles or faster.  It was difficult when, at mile 3, I saw Brian run past me.  It was very hard not to try to stay with him. I had to tell myself, “I am running my own race.” I was determined not to derail my own plans. For the first 10 miles, I averaged around an 8:05 minute/mile. Not bad, pretty close to the goal pace. Once I hit mile 10, I really wanted to run faster. It felt good to run faster.  Then right before the long hill leading up to the St. John’s Bridge, I had caught up to Brian.  We exchanged pleasantries and both of us seemed to be still feeling good.  I felt like my right hamstring was little tight, but other than that I felt well. So, I loped up the hill, and cruised across the bridge. The spectators and volunteers were so nice, saying, “Good job, Melissa, you got this.” I felt like I did.  My Garmin watch "average pace" was reading 8:03/mile. Good. Just wait until mile 20 then I could speed up and finish this thing.

Then, it just seemed to happen.  After, I ran uphill around mile 18 or 19, I felt really, really tired.  So tired.  I had planned to meet my husband, Scott at mile 20 so he could join me for the last 6 miles.  I thought it would be fun since October 7^th 2012 was our 12^th Anniversary. By the time I met up with Scott at mile 20 my legs were completely done.  Run a 7:55/mile for the last 6 miles?!! HA!  I knew that wasn’t in the cards, and I threw away the idea of running a 3:30 marathon. I watched my Garmin average pace of 8:03 slowly climb, to 8:04, 8:05… 

Running with Scott was a godsend.  He asked me if I needed anything.  I wanted to say, “Yes, can you run the rest of this race for me while I stop and take a nap??” But, that was too many words for me to manage.  After mile 22, we headed down a LONG downhill from Swan Island.  By this time, my knee joints and hip joints were hurting so bad each step felt like someone was stabbing me with a hot poker. It was a new sensation since I have never had joint pain when I’m running.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to stretch my right hamstring. I wanted to walk, I wanted to stop running. Scott said cheerfully, “Only 4 more miles!”  I thought, “Oh my, I have to run 4 more miles like this?”

I didn’t run those last 6 miles with my legs.  I ran them with sheer WILL and DETERMINATION. I knew if I stopped and started walking like so many of the people we were passing, I would never get going again.  I just wanted to get done.  Be finished.  Get myself on the other side of the finish line with my medal around my neck and a space blanket draped over me. DONE.  I also was holding on to some idea that I could still run a 3:35.  I couldn’t let all the work of the last 16 weeks fall apart.  “Hold it together.  Try not to slow down” I told myself.

As we closed in on the last 2 miles, a song came on my iPod that made me start to cry. I swallowed hard, and realized that I was mouthing along to the lyrics of Christina Aguilera’s "Fighter."

YOU-WON'T-STOP-ME

I am a fighter and I
I ain't gonna stop
There is no turning back
I've had enough

I have hurt before during races.  I have wanted to slow down, walk, or even stop all together.  But, I’ve never experienced an emotional reaction during a race. Tears? Really?

At that point, I felt like hurled myself over the Broadway Bridge and into the downtown streets of Portland.  The finish line was like a lighthouse, I was like ship lost at sea.  I was so happy to see those blue and red balloons above me.  It seemed like thousands of people were shouting my name, cheering and yelling and yet somehow,  I heard a familiar voice call, “Go Melissa!!”  It was my mom.

I made it. I glanced at my watch.  3:34:32!!  I got my medal! I got my space blanket! I was finally walking!!!

Scott and me after the race

But, walking hurt terribly too.  My hip and knee joints were so painful, my quads and hamstring were really tight, and my eyes were full of tears. I had to limp my way slowly to find my family.  As soon as I saw my husband, my two kids and my mom, I started to cry.  It was so overwhelming to keep all that I had just experienced inside of me. With the love of my family, I recovered myself pretty quickly.

I knew the race would be hard physically.  You cannot run that far at any pace without feeling some level of fatigue.  I knew I’d have to dig deep mentally, too, to keep myself on pace, to force myself to drink water and fuel my body.  But, the wave of emotion that swept over me during and after the race was something new.  I had no preparation plan in place for this sort of reaction. And, I strive to to take measure to be ready for all contingencies.

Not this day.

I love running because most of the time it helps me through tough emotional times.  This time, running was leading me to my breaking point. And, I was ill prepared for this unexpected reaction from myself.  I came through this "marathon experience" however, and now I feel different. There was so much going on inside my body and my head, but the largest part of me that felt affected was my heart (not the organ). It’s hard to put into words and maybe a little cheesy, but I felt like the race wasn’t an achievement for my body, but more milestone for my soul.

So...the question of the hour is: Will I run another marathon?? Maybe. I mean I didn’t get to the 3:30 goal this time, so there’s always next time, right?  :)

Running Goals: 2012

In my last post, I talked about setting goals for the New Year, and how I've always been pretty bad at following through with that type of thing.  To that end, I thought I'd explain some of the things I'd like to accomplish in the next 12 months.  This will hopefully keep me honest, knowing that at least a few people are reading this (yes, you).


Race times
Long term, I'd like to break 46 minutes in a 10K, and hit 45 minutes as a stretch.  I'll mostly be racing 10Ks this year (thanks to the ORRC 10K Series), so this will be my main focus.  I'll probably do one or two 5Ks, and if I can break 22 minutes I'll be happy.

Assuming I'm able to do two half-marathons again this year, I want to get down to 1:47 or better.  I'd hoped to beat 1:50 in my last race (the Foot Traffic Holiday Half in December), but missed it by almost two minutes.

I think the biggest key to reaching these goals is...


Running Mileage
I started adding miles at the end of 2011, but not consistently.  For the last two months, I was averaging just over 20 miles per week, with some highs near 30 when I was training for the half.  According to Runner's World, I'm barely running enough to race 5Ks, so I definitely need to find somewhere to add more.

My weekday morning runs are very tight  because of work schedules.  I have about 35 minutes if I leave the door right as my wife comes in from her workout. This past year, I averaged 27-28 minutes, or about 3.3 miles.  (I have to factor in time for my running partner (left) to do what he needs to do out there.)

With a double once a week (Wednesday), all long runs at 10 miles or more, I should be able to get close to 30 miles per week.

Strength Training
I hit the weights three times in a normal week, but due to scheduling and other issues I sometimes drop that third day.  When trying to add mileage for the half-marathons, I sometimes dropped my Sunday morning weight workout.  My first goal is to maintain the three-day weight regimen.

Second, I want to make sure I'm doing at least two lower body exercises with each workout.  Up until a few months ago, I usually skipped the legs altogether to keep them fresh for running.  I don't think this was very wise, and I'm hopeful that weight-trained legs will make the hills easier and my finishes stronger.

Flexibility

I'm seriously tight. I try to stretch a little after my runs, and sometimes in the evening before bed, but I really need to make this a daily thing.  I'm going to stretch for 10 minutes or so every night, and do some key post-run stretches every time as well.

I think that sums it up for me right now.  I am thinking about how to address some more personal goals in a separate post.  For now, this one is going to be a bit of a reference for the rest of the year.

The New Year

"Last time I was here it was raining.
It ain't raining anymore."
-Ryan Adams, Dirty Rain



It is the first day of January, and my run this morning was dominated by the bright sunrise in a clear sky.  In this season of goals, resolutions, and the desire to improve ourselves, I was struck by the perfect appropriateness of this (not to mention nature's love for clichés).  I believe we find messages in things when we look for them, and that our expectations will define the message we find.  A man in a dour mood would call that sun blinding, for example, and point instead to the cutting wind as an omen of a cruel year to come.

That said, how could I not look upon the blue sky and golden sun without finding a sense of optimism for the new year?  It was as if nature herself were smiling hopefully.

I've never been one to embrace the "New Year's" spirit.  I like to think I am already committed to continuously improving myself (especially this past year), and that New Year's Resolutions are really just for people without the willpower to maintain their good habits.  Moreover, as my friend Tanya pointed out, these resolutions tend to "give [us] nothing but a self-worth disorder."  It has become a great joke that New Year's Resolutions are doomed to fail, like marriages where the spouses get tattoos of each other's names.

This these past few days, though, I've realized that there really is no bad time for resolving to improve yourself.  In the business world, the evangelists of continuous improvement are always looking for more bottlenecks to be unblocked and positive changes to be made.  By definition, continuous improvement is never finished.  The New Year simply provides a convenient time to set new goals and a convenient timeframe in which to meet them.  The smartest goals have a strict time component; while a deadline includes a risk of failure, the lack of one leads to procrastination.

This also led me to another realization about myself.  Sure, I'm an advocate of self-improvement and do look for constructive ways to make myself a better person.  But I'm terrible about setting goals, which is probably the single most effective way to make a change.  I am a master of procrastination, which is why I started this blog weeks ago and am only now adding another entry.

So, I'm going to use this "season" to set some concrete goals for myself, both in terms of running and a few other things (including keeping up with this blog!).  The running goals are pretty easy to make--I can couch them in terms of time, speed, or miles--but might be hard to hit.  I want to add at least five additional miles per week, and improve my 5K and 10K time by one and two minutes, respectively.  I'm looking forward to that challenge.  Personal goals are difficult, since they tend to be more abstract and the habits more deeply entrenched.  I'm also reticent about sharing some of those with the world, but I may change my mind about that.  I plan to share some of my successes and failures along the way, and also hope that putting all of this out in cyberspace will keep me accountable.

Finally, while we usually look to the new year as a time for positive change, it also reminds us that we can put the past behind us.  We can break bad habits, stop making the same mistakes, or take control of our lives where we thought we'd lost it.  Even when faced with challenges outside of our control, we have a remarkable ability to adapt to circumstance.  No matter how bad the night may have been, the sun is still going to rise on a new day.