Trisko Update

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Friends, the trisko is looming. I will run my very first half marathon (unless you count the two half marathons that composed last fall's full marathon) on Sunday, May 11.

Training for a trisko is really different from training for a full marathon. I have long runs to do, but they just aren't that long. And because the distance isn't quite so punishing, there is no taper - and no accompanying taper madness.

Two Saturdays ago, I ran a 10 mile run that kicked my heiney-butt all over the place. I was tired and had to stop to walk a couple of times. Every injury I have ever had in my entire life came back to say hello - except for the shin pain that had me so worried. It was like, "Knee pain? What the hell - you haven't been around since January. What are you doing here? And now you, hip pain? You went away in November, and you sure as Yoda are not coming back now."

But the good thing is, this is not my first big race, so I know that every once in a while, I'm going to have a bad run. Because on Saturday, I ran 11 miles, rocked it out, and felt completely fine afterwards. Just hungry.

I am also considerably more prepared for the race than I was for my marathon last fall. I've reviewed the course map, and it features a big-ass hill towards the beginning of the race. The hill is on 4th Street in Moline, and Stately Wasser Manor is on 3rd Street. That means that there is absolutely no reason for me to not make that hill my bitch. I plan my training runs now so that I have to run up that hill at some point - usually when I'm fatigued. I'll have to post a picture of the monster so that you will all be impressed by how bad-ass I am.

Less bad-ass is the fact that the time I took off for my hurt shin has made me change my goals.

Old Goal: 2:00 or less, in preparation for a 4:00 marathon in the fall.

New Goal: Whatever.

Few Words

The challenge of this week's Take It and Run Thursday is to post some wisdom about running in 13 words or less.

My first thought was to give some advice that I repeatedly learn the hard way:

Don't overtrain. Just because you physically can doesn't mean you should.

But really, there has never been better coaching advice than that given in the genius film Better Off Dead. Sure, it's about skiing, but it works for us, too:

Go that way... really fast. If something gets in your way... turn.

Down by the River

Steve called me late yesterday afternoon to tell me that he had to work late. That's fine, but it meant I wouldn't be able to get in a run, since it was also my night to recap American Idol. Again, that'd be okay, except that I know I won't be able to run today either, since he's got another work thing. And that trisko is looming closer, you guys.

Then, I decided to make it work. I wouldn't be able to do my scheduled five miles, but if I kept things interesting for Jack, maybe I could do three. And to make things as interesting as possible, I decided we should go to the bike and running path down by the Mississippi River.

This little outing took considerably more work with the Cub involved. For one thing, I had to figure out how to cram the jogging stroller into my car, ultimately shoving it onto the passenger seat. And I had to pack snacks. Then Jack wanted to learn how to make Gatorade - "Some for you, and some for me, too, because I'm going to run too, Mommy."

The second I parked my car, Jack pulled off a classic kid move: "Mommy, is there a potty here?" The answer to that question was either "No" or "Yeah, see that rock over there?" And thus, I became the one to teach my son how to pee outdoors. I always thought his dad would take him through that rite of passage, but I was desperate.

I finally got him in the jogger, only to have him immediately dump 3/4 of his goldfish crackers on the ground. Jack and I established that there is no Five Second Rule outside when he saw a partially eaten container of McDonald's french fries lying in a parking lot and was intrigued by them. We do not eat food off of the dirt - not even french fries or shrimp cocktail.

At last, we were off. Jack had a fine time looking at ducks, waving at babies, and checking out the dogs. I actually managed to get in about 2-3/4 miles before he asked me if he could run, too. He'd been more than patient, so I unstrapped him, and we took off.

Running a quarter of a mile is probably very much like running a 10 miler if you have little short legs like he does. But Jack really kept at it. Every once in a while, he'd stop to walk, and I'd ask him if he wanted to ride in the stroller for just a little while. Every time, he responded by saying, "I want to run" and taking off once more.

There is no doubt in my mind: the kid is a future distance runner. I think he's in for quite the dilemna the fall of his freshman year in high school when he has to decide between Daddy's sport of soccer and Mommy's sport of cross country. I'd be willing to bet money that he'll wind up a cross country runner. He likes playing soccer, but I've never heard him laughing with glee the way he does when he's running.

After our run, we stopped for Gatorade - me in my green water bottle, Jack in his Thomas the Tank Engine sippy cup. We discovered that the geese that live by the river are a bold and frightening lot. My friend Felicia writes on her blog Life Aboard Mazurka about a pair of geese that pretty effectively terrorize her boat home. She calls them the Cheneys, which made me instantly think of this goose as Condi.

Jack and I stood on one side of a park bench, with his sippy cup on it, and Condi was on the other. She marched right up to us hissing. It is really weird to see a bird hiss, and at first, Jack thought it was funny to see a bird sticking its tongue out. But Condi got awfully close to us, and since she and Jack are roughly the same size, he started to feel intimidated. "Mommy, I don't want that goose to lick my cup," he said, "Will you please pick it up?" I had to admit that I was scared of the goose too and was nervous about picking the cup up. Then, Jack, Roary, and I tried to scare Condi away by roaring at her. We sounded ferocious, but Condi was nonplussed. She backed up slightly, so I swooped in and rescued the sippy cup. Jack and I then retreated.

It was a really fun night. What had looked like an evening of me being slightly resentful at not getting a run in turned into an adventure.

Family Sports Weekend

This weekend was the first time this year that we've had warm weather. Finally, it feels like spring, but it's been cold for so long that the warm weather feels precarious. I wanted to soak up every minute of it, for fear that it will start snowing again any second. As a result, the boys and I spent a lot of time outside, and it wound up being a big Family Sports weekend.

On Saturday, we went to a track meet at Augustana. It was a lot of fun to watch, and of course brought back lots of memories for both me and Steve. Jack, too, loved every minute of it. In between races, he'd run back and forth in front of the bleachers, just dying to get out on the track himself. When the meet was over and the athletes had cleared out, I told him we could go down there. Jack merrily ran along, yelling, "YOU CAN'T CATCH ME!" and "GO, AUGIE!" After we turned the first curve, I suggested we turn around and run back. No way. Jack wanted to go all the way around the track. He stopped a couple times to walk, but he did it. 400 meters is a long way if you're only 3 years old, so I think that the boy is a future distance runner.



Yesterday was time for more sports. The three of us played frisbee, catch, and soccer. And then, we set up Jack's new mini golf course, a Christmas present from his grandparents. It's a very cool toy - we can set up the courses in a number of different ways. And it's designed such that it's not ridiculously hard for a little kid to do. On the first hole, all three of us got it in one on the first try, so Jack didn't get frustrated at not being as good at it as we were.



After a quick trip to buy flowers to plant, I suggested that Jack and I stop by the grocery store for popsicles, which we could then eat on the back step. Jack's response? "I love you, Mommy."

No Ifs, Ands, Or...

It's time for another edition of Take It and Run Thursday. This week's theme is Inspiration. There are so many things that inspire me to run, but today, I want to talk about a very special inspiration, one that is behind me every step of the way.

I am talking, of course, about my butt.

My butt and I have had a tumultuous relationship over the years. When it really began to come into its own, I was a teenager. What had been a non-entity when I was a kid suddenly became very curvy, very bubbly. Not even Sir Mix-A-Lot could keep me from feeling a tad self-consious about it, and in retrospect, what a complete waste of anxiety. I mean, please. I was a teenager, and I was running about ten miles a day. I had no idea how fabulous I really looked. I can't believe I bothered wearing a pair of running shorts over my tights, when really, I should have worn a bikini every single day to show off how amazing I looked. Youth, as they say, is wasted on the young.

My butt and I went off to college, and although I'd get in the occasional run, I also discovered the joys of bourbon, with its accompanying joy of 3 for $1 chili cheese dogs from Stop-In, preferably eaten at 2:00 in the morning. This same trend continued for years after college.

The result? My butt grew bigger and more bubbly, though my waist stayed relatively small. Buying pants became one of the most traumatic things I had to do; it was impossible to find anything that fit right. Pants that fit in the waist were impossible to get over my butt, and pants that fit my butt left such a huge gap in the small of my back that I could have just skipped carrying a purse and put all of my gear back there. And skirts? Forget it. A skirt that was an attractive knee-length in the front was a micro mini in the back once the fabric had made its way around the countours of my heiney.

Then, I got pregnant... and huge. I tried not to look at the scale when I went to the doctor's office, because really, that was not information I was interested in learning. I do wish that the nurses would be a bit more considerate when adjusting that scale. They should really start with the weight at, like, 500 pounds, and then adjust it downward because you are such a delicate little thing, rather than beginning at 100 pounds and knocking that little lever evermore to the right. But I do know that towards the end, Jack and I were over 200 pounds. I also know that not all of that weight was the baby.

At one point during my pregnancy, I got out of the shower and made the mistake of looking in the mirror. I screamed, then found Steve and said, "There are purple stripes on my ass! How long has this been going on?" Steve, both diplomatic and smart, said that he hadn't wanted to tell me, because there was nothing I could do about it. I shrugged it off and ate a ham sandwich the size of Texas.

After Jack was born, the purple stripes faded to a less livid hue, and the butt started to shrink back down. I still had problems finding pants that fit, but a combination of being too busy to eat and lugging around my giant economy-sized baby got me to the point where I had a pair of jeans that I absolutely loved. They were dark denim, boot cut, and made me feel so much cooler and more attractive.

Still, my butt and I were not peacefully co-existing; I couldn't wear those jeans every day, much as I would have liked to. So, I took stronger action. I started Weight Watchers, a program that I loved because it seemed so sustainable. It wasn't that I couldn't eat cookies any more; I had to see cookies in context with the rest of my diet and find the right place for them. More importantly, I started running more.

My body transformed. Not quite to my teenaged self - that ship has definitely sailed - but into something newer and stronger. Before long, pants started to fit me again. I tried on a pair of jeans, giddy at the fact that I was even considering a size 8. I stepped out of the dressing room and asked Steve, "Do these look good? They're tighter than I'm used to." Steve looked at me, his eyes widened, and he whispered, "Get them." I did, and when I wore those jeans the first time three people asked me if I'd lost weight. I immediately went back to the store and bought three more pairs. I still have that dark denim boot cut pair that I loved so much, but I keep them for shovelling show since I can wear them comfortably over two pairs of long underwear.

Since I started running seriously again, my butt and I get along just fine. It's no longer something I have to work around when I'm getting dressed. I can even wear skirts. I've chosen to think of those once purple stripes as racing stripes, and of my butt not as something to run away from, but as a muscle that keeps me moving - both literally and figuratively.

My Prince

Jack, admiring my dress: Mommy, you look pretty enough to be a princess.


Me: Jack, where was Grandma when I picked you up?
Jack: She went to the gym to exercise.
Me: Oh, that's good. I'm glad Grandma is exercising.
Jack: When I get bigger, I am going to exercise with you, Mommy.
Me: Will you? I'd like that.
Jack: I will go running with you, Mommy. Without the stroller.
Me: Will you run races with me?
Jack: Yes, and I'll say, "You can't catch me!"
Me: I'll do my best to catch you, but you're fast.
Jack: And we will run races together and then I will beat you.


Jack: Mommy, where do you work?
Me: At Terrostar, remember.
Jack: When I get bigger, I am going to work at Terrostar with you, Mommy.
Me: Oh, yeah? I'd like that.
Jack: We will go to work together, but I will have my own desk and 'puter.
Me: Good idea.
Jack: And we will have lunch together and we will go to Starbucks.
Me: Cool. I'll tell my boss to save you a spot.


Jack notes the framed photo he moved from his bookcase to his nightstand.
Jack: That picture of you and Daddy, Mommy.
Me: Yes, Daddy and I gave you that picutre.
Jack: I moved it over here because I miss-ed you, Mommy.

These are all moments for me to remember when Jack annoys the heck out of me. Three-year olds have moments of being not so great, but things like this more than make up for it.

Red Rubber Ball

Okay, Internet. I did it. I went running again. I was SO nervous that I decided a little tribute to some BRF's would help. So, for Topher, I wore my new running tights, 'cause I know the man loves his spandex. And, so that the tights wouldn't completely scream LOOK AT MY BUTT, I put on some red lipstick in honor of Nancy. And I set off.

I ran 3 miles, slowly (32:something, compared to the 4 miles I ran at 35:something), on a flat surface. But you guys?

It was fine!

No pain in the leg before, during, or after.

Thank you so much to all of you who have written in kind words of support. I really have been scared that I'd have to take a significant amount of time off of running. The sad thing is, when I thought I had a stress fracture, the fact that a semi-broken bone would hurt and all was really not a concern to me so much as the fact that it meant I wouldn't be able to run. Yes, that is nuts - thank you for noticing.

Something that you catlickers might not know about me is that I absolutely love oldies music. And there's a song that comes to mind right now, called "Red Rubber Ball," which I downloaded in commemoration of my state of mind right now.

I should have known you'd bid me farewell.
There's a lesson to be learned from this
and I learned it very well

Now I know you're not
the only starfish in the sea.
If I never hear your name again
it's all the same to me.

And I think it's gonna be all right.
Yeah, the worst is over,
Now the morning sun is shining like a Red Rubber Ball.

Freaking Out

Remember when I said that I was treating my shin pain by resting, icing it, and trying not to freak out?

That third part is not going well right now.

I have not been running since last Sunday. I'm planning on starting back with an easy, slow 3 mile run tomorrow. The leg hadn't hurt me in days, until...

(cue foreboding music)

Yesterday, I spent about 10 minutes playing soccer in the backyard with Jack. The leg started hurting almost immediately.

Crap in a hat, you guys.

I am still going to go through with my plan to go running tomorrow and see how I feel, and "if" it still hurts, I'll call my doctor.

That "if" is in quotes, because my sense of dread tells me it will be. That same dread tells me that this is a catlicking stress fracture and that it's a good thing I haven't registered for the trisko yet.

I'm really down.

I love it when a plan comes together

It's time for another Take It and Run Thursday, this time about training plans. Training plans rock my socks. The very first one I followed (besides the divine wisdom of Coach Quick)was Hal Higdon's beginner's marathon training plan. Following the plan gave me a lot of confidence. I mean, it's Hal Higon; dude knows what he's doing, and if Hal says I should run an easy 3 today, then by Yoda, that's what I'm going to do. Hal's and my goal for my first marathon was simple: to finish. And, sure enough, it worked.

My goals now are more ambitious, and in turn, so are my training programs. I am following Uncle Hal's intermediate program for a trisko. It includes speedwork and weight training, two things that I did not do in the beginning program.

After the trisko, I will start training for the Quad Cities Marathon. I'll use the plan laid out in Dave Kuehls' Four Months to a Four Hour Marathon. Between you and me, Internet, I think that four hours might be too ambitious of a goal for me right now. My first marathon was 4:57, and while I am positive I can do much better, shaving 57 minutes off of my PR is likely a bit much right now. However, I know that I will finish stronger in marathon #2 by adding some track workouts and tempo runs as Kuehls suggests.

I love training runs because they give me confidence that I am doing the right thing to prepare for my races. Even more importantly, they make me feel like a serious athlete (which evidence keeps suggesting I am). I am not just out there running a couple of miles around my house that are pretty; instead, it's a 3 mile recovery run. Or I'm running a tempo run to build speed, or a long run to build endurance.

And when I cross the finish line, I'll be able to say, "I love it when a plan comes together."

Fake Swearing

Okay, Internet. Several of you have now asked about some of my more colorful phrases, such as "catlicking" and "Laws!" Why in the name of Yoda (there's another one) would I say such things?

Here's your answer:

Captain Crazy Cubbypants here has not only developed the ability to understand people when they speak, but also to repeat them. Often, the results are amusing, like last night when he said, "I'm not a monster, you know," and "Sorry I freaked out back there, Daddy." What would not be so cute would be if he learned some of the choice four letter words that used to be such an important part of my vocabulary.

Okay, it would be kind of cute. But it would not be, so much, socially acceptable. Steve even calls me out for using the word crap. I was like, "Are you fucking kidding me? I can't say crap?" And then he pointed out that if Jack started saying crap, it would not sound too good to, say, his teachers or people at churches we are auditioning.

So, what's a mom to do? If you smack your funny bone, saying, "GOLLY, THAT SMARTS!" is not at all satisfying. So, I make up my own swear words. And if this means that one day Jack will get caught saying, "For the love of Yoda, Catlicker, if you don't give me back my catlicking Roary, I don't know what I'm going to do," I think I can live with that.

Jack Wasser, Boy Genius

The boys and I were having dinner last night.

Steve: That's great, Jack. You're so smart.
Jack: WAAAAHHHH!
Me: What happened, Cub?
Jack: WAAAHHH! I bit my tongue.

Quick, call Mensa, because they just don't come any sharper than this one.

Not Running

Okay, Internet. I am trying not to freak out here.

For about a week, I have had some pain in my left leg, inner shin, towards the bottom of it.

It is not too painful to run on, and in fact, diminishes the longer I run. It occasionally, but not always, hurts when I walk.

So, as of yesterday, I am doing the following:
1. Resting, at least until Saturday. No running at all.
2. Icing it a couple times a day with my friend the bag of frozen peas.
3. Trying not to freak out.

So far, I'm doing pretty well with numbers 1 and 2. This is despite the fact that it was catlicking beautiful out yesterday, and scores of people ran past me as I drove home from work, looking happy, and I got a new pair of running tights in the mail.

I thought about just running 3 miles, slowly, to see how it felt, but instead, I made myself sit down with the peas. I am really trying to keep this in perspective - a couple days off might be all I need to feel better. It worked with the achilles pain last summer. And if that's all I have to do, it won't screw up my trisko plans, because the fact of the matter is, if I had to, I could run one now. Maybe not as fast as I'd like, but I would finish.

But you guys? I'm freaking out. Because, let's face it - I don't have shin splints. I have not suddenly gotten back into running after a period of inactivity, and I'm following a training plan that is not making me overtrain. Dr. Google tells me that it's either a tendon problem or... a stress fracture.

Crap in a hat.

Please, Goddess Nike, please don't let me have a stress fracture.

That's My Boy!

Saturday afternoon this week meant special Mommy-Son time. Jack earned enough stickers on his chart for staying in bed at night to earn a trip to Bouncetown Adventures.

Sweet Yoda, was that kid excited. As we drove there, he and Roary sang a song that the two of them composed, lyrics consisting of the words "Bouncetown USA!" over and over again. Imagine my disappointment when we got there only to discover that the place didn't open for another half an hour. Crap in a hat!

I gave Jack the bad news, immediately assuring him that we would be coming right back. I also launched into the important parenting technique known as Distraction. We had half an hour to kill - did he want to go to McDonald's and eat french fries or to Starbucks?

He chose Starbucks.

Could it be more clear that I brought the right kid home from the hospital?

So, after a quick break for caffiene (for me) and chocolate (for both of us), it was back to Bouncetown. And Jack was a perfect gentleman. He looked out for littler kids. He took turns. He shared the Spongebob Squarepants ice cream treat that I bought for him.

And when it was time to take a bathroom break, he happily complied. As he and I were leaving the bathroom, he heard a little girl about a year older than he is pitching an absolute fit. Jack looked at her in astonishment and said:

There's no crying in Bouncetown!

Ask Betsy

Did you know that people who comment on my blog are among the most superawesomesexy people on the entire internet?

Well, you totally are.

In the past few months, I've gotten comments that included questions. Since I don't feel like doing any work right now, it's time for a round of Ask Betsy.

My friend Courtney (who I went to college with and is pondering running a trisko and who totally should and also is awesome)asked about my weight training program - do I do major muscle groups, or what?

I try to keep things simple. I do lat pull-downs, biceps, triceps, hip flexes, leg curls, leg extensions, and inner and outer thighs. I keep the weights fairly light and do 2-3 sets of 12 reps. When I start marathon training in a couple of months, I am going to meet with a personal trainer to get some recommendations.

Database Diva wondered how I managed to make it from high school to 2007 without any major injuries. Ah, that's easy. In those 10 years, I didn't run that much. A couple times a week, I'd go out and run maybe 3 miles. I'd knock out a 5K if it was somewhere cool and I wanted a t-shirt. I quit running completely when I was pregnant. My doctor's advice on exercising was to listen to my body. My body said, "Eat a ham sandwich the size of your thigh along with a chocolate milkshake and a bag of gummy bears, then what say you and I take a nap?" And I listened. I also hardly ran at all when Jack was a baby because I was just too worn out. I was a serious runner in high school, then had a fallow period, then came back to it again. How I came back to it and got serious again is, of course, a longer post.

My last post created several questions about my beloved coffee. TriGirl Thea asked if Folger's has a bad name in the US. I can't speak for my entire country, but I find it watered down and bland. Shelah asked if drinking coffee makes me hot. I am probably not the right person to ask, because nothing would stop me from drinking it and because I have been known to walk through a snowstorm for ice cream. It doesn't bother me, I'll say that much! Nibbles asked me what my favorite kind of coffee is. I tend to like Latin American coffees, like Guatemalan, but I also like Kona, Jamaican Blue Ridge, and Sumatra. The house coffee at Stately Wasser Manor is Verona from 'bucks.

Nibbles had more questions - if I get bored running in loops and how the trisko training is going. I don't get bored with the loops because they're long and varied - it's not like running laps around the block. Sunday, for example, I am going to run three miles down a big-ass hill, to the path by the Mississippi River, and back, get some water, then do a flat 1.5 miles out and back through some neighborhoods. And the trisko training is going really well. It's so much fun to be doing speedwork again. This week I did 8x400, and I rocked those bitches out! My pace averaged 1:47, which is really fast for me.

The Bets was psyched to find another woman named Betsy who is a runner and a coffee lover. Well guess what - there are three of us. Check out another Betsy at Eat, Drink, Run, Woman. EDRW Betsy is training her butt off in hopes of qualifying for Boston, and since she lives in Seattle, I think it's safe to say that the girl knows her way around a cup of coffee.

And finally, for those of you who have astutely noted that Jack is the cutest thing ever, all I can say is that this is empircally true.

Good Hydrations

This week's Take It and Run Thursday is all about hydration.

So, about hydration? I'm for it.

Honestly, I don't really do anything that unusual. When I have a long run, I'll put an insulated bag with a water bottle (reusable, naturally) in it and will drink when I loop back by my house. This system works well for me because I don't like to carry water with me. I haven't found anything yet that's comfortable and doesn't leak. And it's kind of nice having my water waiting for me when I loop back home.

When I'm finished running, I have a bottle of Gatorade waiting for me in the fridge. I like the yellow kind, and I buy it in powder form to mix with water, since it's much cheaper that way.

But if we're going to talk about liquids that are vital to one's well being, there's only one that truly fills my heart:

Coffee.

I have been drinking coffee since I was 11 years old - almost as long as I've been a runner. I can admit with absolutely no shame whatsoever that I am truly addicted to it. And for me, the first cup of coffee is like that first hit of heroin for an addict in withdrawl - it's not so much about feeling good as it is about avoiding feeling bad. The subsequent cups of coffee, however, are pure joy.

Do I drink coffee before going running? Um, do you expect me to be awake when I'm running? Because that's obviously not going to happen on its own. That said, if I have a long run scheduled in the morning, I limit myself to that one cup. Then I'll choose Gu with caffiene to make up the drug loss... and treat myself to a great big latte later on in the day. A pre-run cup of coffee poses no problems for me, especially since I go to the bathroom eighty million times before any run in a bit of obsessive panic. And again, the prospect of going without coffee is just not a possibility.

I love everything about coffee. The color, the texture of the beans. The sound of it brewing, and the sound of it as it pours into my cup. I recently started adding milk to my coffee, mainly as a source of calcium, and I love watching the light color swirl into the dark. I love the way it feels when I cradle a hot cup of coffee in my hands, and I think coffee ring stains are kind of beautiful. And the smell is pure heaven. I had a job in college working for a coffee shop, and when I was finished with my shift, the smell would linger in my hair and on my clothes, and I loved it. I am also a coffee snob. If you offer me Folger's, I'll drink it if I have no other choice, but I'll be silently pissed off about it.

In short, I like my coffee like I like my running: a latte.

Jack and Roary

Jack: MOMMY! Roary poked me in the eye.


Jack: (whining)
Me: What's wrong, Jack?
Jack: Roary broke my sunglasses.


Jack: MOMMY!
Me: What's wrong, Cub? It's time to go to sleep.
Jack: Roary hit me.
Me: Roary, tell Jack you're sorry.
Jack (as Roary): Sorry, Jack.
Me: Now hug each other and go back to sleep.


Jack: Did not.
Roary: Did too.
Jack: Did not.
Roary: Did too.
Jack: Did not.
Me: Stop it, you guys.



I don't see the need to have another kid.