The Next Challenge

I'm happy to say that Jack is starting to figure some things out. For example, there are foods out there besides french fries and ice cream that not only will not cause his death, but might, in fact, be tasty. On Sunday alone, he tried three new foods. We got some fresh apricots at the grocery store and because they were "so cute," Jack agreed to taste them. Then he ate all five. I gave him some red pepper strips with his dinner, and he informed me that, "I don't yike red peppers," but after I told him he did not have to eat them, he did without complaint. Even better, Steve convinced him to try one of the world's greatest foods, ribs. "I yike ribs," Jack said happily, and I had him call my dad with the good news.

Now if only we could get him to try something completely off the wall, such as CEREAL, we'd really have something.

Last night, Jack informed me that he was not going to sleep in a Pull-Up. The kid has been successfully potty-trained during the day for quite a while, and I have to admit that 99% of the time, he wakes up in the morning completely dry. But I also really like not having to change sheets in the middle of the night, so I was prepared to do Pull-Ups indefinitely. Jack informed me politely and reasonably that his body is indeed ready to go all night and that he would not be needing a Pull-Up any more.

"But what if you go in the middle of the night," I asked. Jack said that he would get up, go to the bathroom, and go back to bed. Um, okay. If you say so. Sure enough, last night was successful. "I am all done with Pull-Ups," Jack informed me triumphantly. Too bad that happened immediately after I spent ten bucks on a new bag of them, but whatever.

The little man is also expressing more and more of an interest in learning to read and write. Last night, he and I spent a long time practicing writing the letter J. It is unfortunate that the kid happens to have his name start with a letter that is kind of hard to draw, but we kept on working on the line on top with a hook at the bottom. He definitely doesn't have it yet, but the desire is there.


Yes, I know those are numbers, but you get the idea.

As he and I were working on letters, then making a mixed media collage (ie coloring book page involving crayons, colored pencils, and marker with stickers on it), he'd occasionally grab a carrot stick to munch on. I looked like the greatest mom the world has ever known. I will have to remember that moment the next time I hit the Hell With It button and give him a bowl of marshmallows and put him in front of the TV.

Still, we don't have everything quite figured out yet. Jack decided a while back that he doesn't need to take a nap anymore. However, all evidence points to the contrary, particularly when he is tired to the point where he has screaming fits and attempts to hit me and throw shoes at Steve. The kid needs to take a nap, and we all need to work a little harder to make it happen.

Last night after work, Steve and I had a Team Meeting with my mom and Doug, who take care of Jack on Mondays and Tuesdays. We agreed to attempt a nap at 12:30 and keep trying for 40 minutes. Jack is to stay in his room for 90 minutes, at which time his alarm will go off. We aren't going to make him sleep - if he wants to stay in a darkened room and play with Roary and Susie, so be it, but we are hoping he will get bored and give in to the urge to nap.

Starting today, his sticker chart will no longer be for staying in bed at night, but rather for staying in bed at naptime. He's down with the plan and is eager to earn enough stickers to get his Superman and Krypto action figure set. Here's hoping that The Great Nap Crackdown of 2008 is successful.

Bringing Sweaty Back

I woke up bright and surly on Saturday morning, hoping to get my 18 miler in before it got too hot and humid - and to leave plenty of time to shower before Jack's swimming lesson. I dosed myself liberally with Body Glide, hydrated well, and took off.

Three hours, 22 minutes later, it became apparent that really, there wasn't anything I could have done to avoid that humidity. My clothes were so soaked in sweat that I could literally wring them out. It looked like I'd been swimming, and my skirt clung to my legs. I had painful chafing on my chest and back from my sports bra and on my thigh from my (still awesome) new Amphipod.

This incredibly sexy result aside, it was a really good run and left me feeling strong. Even though I'm a member of Club 26.2, the fact that I can run 18 miles at all makes me really proud. I also did an experiment to see if I could keep up a solid average pace and still walk at water stops. When I was approaching my house and my mom's (my two designated places), I picked up the pace for about a 1/4 mile, stopped and walked while I drank and refueled, then picked up the pace again for that 1/4 mile back. My pace for the miles including breaks is definitely slower, but other splits are faster. I don't know; I think it works for me.

My focus has improved, too. I only took two walk breaks beyond those for water, one of which was because I gave myself a gigantic hill at mile 17. I definitely want to include some hills in my training, especially in anticipation of the Bix, but my marathon is not a hilly one, so there is no need for me to force myself to run hills while fatigued. When I do my next 20 miler on Sunday, that loop is going to be one of the first ones, not the last.

And now for those splits. The goal pace for this run was 10:46. Here's how I did:

Mile 1: 10:13
Mile 2: 10:24
Mile 3: 10:21
Mile 4: 10:31
Mile 5: 10:44
Mile 6: 10:24
Mile 7: 12:24 (walk/water/Gu break)
Mile 8: 10:24
Mile 9: 10:07
Mile 10: 11:55 (walk/water/Sport Bean break)
Mile 11: 10:48
Mile 12: 10:54
Mile 13: 13:09 (walk/water/Gu break)
Mile 14: 10:37
Mile 15: 10:51
Mile 16: 10:46
Mile 17: 13:30 (the aforementioned hill)
Mile 18: 11:08

Advanced Overtraining

The topic of this week's Take It and Run Thursday is he perils of overtraining. I have become something of an expert on overtraining.

If you read about running and training, you know the basic, easiest way to overtrain: too great an increase in mileage. If you ran 30 miles last week and ramp up the mileage this week to 50 - or even 40 - chances are good you are overtraining and are at risk of injury or burnout.

Pfft. Everyone knows that. I have learned advanced ways to overtrain.

For example, if you've been carefully planning all of your runs to be on flat courses, suddenly throwing yourself a bunch of really challenging hills - especially at race pace - is an excellent, more creative way to overtrain. The achilles injury that had me limping for a week last year can attest to that.

Speedwork also poses an opportunity to overtrain. Let's say you're trying to run 400 meter repeats at 2:00 pace. Why stop there? If you can, push that to 1:47 or so, because you can, and you are an amazing, lightning fast Kenyan, not a 30something American mom. You know, for example.

Those incredibly fast workouts felt amazing. That is, until I developed shin splints in my left leg that I was afraid meant a stress fracture.

There are many ways to overtrain, but the key is to tell yourself that the rules do not apply to you. Because you are so awesome, you can crank up the miles, race up hills, and sustain too fast a pace with no consequences whatsoever.

Here's the thing: the rules do apply to you. They apply to all of us. And by running too much, unprepared, or too fast, you could be trading short-term pleasure for long-term problems. Because you decided the rules didn't apply to you, you put yourself at risk of losing an entire season of training, of not being able to run that race that you overtrained for.

Remember: just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Race Karma

The internet is full of advice for running races. Stay hydrated, don't eat anything weird beforehand, don't wear new clothes, don't go out too fast, start off in the right pace group, and so on. But I believe there's a smaller way you can improve your race performance - or at least your enjoyment.

The key is creating good race karma.

Good race karma might not get you across the finish line first, but maybe it can keep you from losing your chip, tripping over your shoelaces, bumping into a pothole, or looking like an idiot in all of the race pictures. It certainly won't hurt. Here's how to bump up your race karma.

• At the beginning of the race, make an effort to actually look at the flag, not your Garmin. And take your damned hat off.


• Give the volunteers your appreciation. At the very least smile and nod at them.


• Wave at the spectators. Yes, they may be sitting in their front yard drinking beer while you run your butt off, but they can also give you a boost when you need it most.


• If there's a kid spectator looking for a high five, don't leave 'em hanging!


• Police officers taking care of the course need extra special love. Smile at them and say thank you.


• At water stations, get your cup from a kid if at all possible. If there are no kids there, pick that person all the way at the end of the water line who is getting no customers whatsoever.


• If you're going to pour some of that water on yourself or dump some out of the cup, pay attention to the people around you so that you don't accidentally drench a fellow runner.


• When you're finished, either throw your cup in the trash or at least toss it carefully on a pile of other cups so it's less of a hassle to clean up later. The same goes for Gu packets.


• Is there a band playing? Clap for them - even if you're wearing your iPod.


• Have fun and enjoy the food at the post-race party, but just eat and drink whatever you're going to enjoy there. I have actually seen people fill up bags with bananas and granola bars and such. You are not at the grocery store.

What about you? How do you practice good race karma?

Goin' on a Bear Hunt

When I was in Girl Scouts, there was a song we used to sing called "Goin' on a Bear Hunt." In the song, you go looking for a bear and encounter a bunch of obstacles along the way - lake, cave, stuff like that. One verse went like this:

Ooh, looky!
What is that?
It's a swamp-a!
Can't go over it.
Can't go under it.
Can't go around it.
We gotta go through it!

When I headed out for last night's track workout, it was so horrendously humid, I immediately thought, "It's a swamp-a!" And that workout wasn't going away, so... "We gotta go through it!"

After running to the track, I did 3 x 1600, with a goal pace between 8:20 and 8:30 a mile. I was supposed to do 1 minute rest intervals, but I did bump that up a bit because I needed a bit of extra time to recover and drink from my water bottle.

I was completely drenched in sweat, and my hair curled up like Will Ferrel's in Semi-Pro. It was so nasty out that I did something I do not usually do - I took my shirt off. Luckily the black sports bra and black skirt looked like an actual outfit.

Here are my swamp splits:
8:27
8:15
8:20

That second mile was a bit of an experiment. I picked up my pace a bit on the straightaways, then slowed a bit on the curves. My main goal in doing this was to break things up a bit and help me resist the urge to just sit in the shade. Obviously, it worked better than just that!

The Benefit of Experience

I'm starting to repeat experiences from last year's marathon training, and I am struck by how much better things are going now than they were before.

On Friday, I ran the Firecracker 10K, just like I did last year. Only this time, my experience was worlds better. The race has a 5K and a 10K, which start together. After about a mile, the courses split up, and there's a volunteer with a bullhorn whose job it is to repeat over and over, "10K, up the hill!" (which honestly would be kind of a fun job). The 5K is "fast and flat," but the 10K is described as "hilly and challenging." Last year, I remember going up that first hill, and thinking, "Man, that was a bitch. Good thing that's over!" only to discover hill after hill after hill. Just when I thought I was finished, bam! Another scary steep hill. It wore me out mentally.

Worse, when I ran that 10K last year, I was in the "Wow, I am so strong and amazing that I can just run whatever I want to!" phase. The day I ran that 10K last year, I was supposed to do an easy 3, but I figured, "Why not run twice that distance on a difficult course? And race it?"

Well, the reason why not was that I injured my Achilles tendon and limped for a week, that was why.

This time around, I was ready for the hills. I'd done plenty of hill training, and I knew when to expect each one. I skipped my scheduled 7 mile tempo run for the week and did this one instead.I did not injure myself, and even better, I got a PR! There were also improvements to the race itself, such as the fact that they didn't run out of t-shirts (though they did only have XXL, which fits me like a dress), and, even better, they had ICE CREAM at the finish line. Awesome!

On Sunday, I once again felt like a seasoned veteran. It was the day of my first 20 mile training run of this marathon training time. Last year, 20 miles was the longest I'd ever run, and I was nervous as all get out. Could I really do it? Would it take me all day? Would I get sick or hungry? I was so freaked out about it that I barely slept the night before. Then, I proceded to have a terrible run. My mind was not in the right place at all, I got lost, it was hot, and I had to hurl myself along for the last two miles.

This time, I was confident that I could do it, knowing that I had a great 17 mile run the week before and that I have successfully run farther than 20 miles before. I plotted a fun course for myself and had some good podcasts to listen to along the way. I also enlisted the aid of my mom as a water station, saying I'd be by her house at mile 13 and again at mile 17. My water bottle and packets of Gu were waiting for me, and on the way back, Mom had not only refilled the bottle, but even added ice. It was the greatest tasting thing ever. She even took my picture:



I'm walking, so it's not too bad-ass, but you can at least admire my cute running outfit. And my legs look good.

I finished the run in 3:36, which I was very happy with. And, after some food and an ice bath, I felt just fine for the rest of the day (and today), with the exception of a couple of blisters. Not bad!

Have It Your Way

If, like me, you have the glamorous job of being mother to a three-year-old, you spend a tremendous amount of time in public bathrooms. Take today, for example. One trip to Burger King, two trips to the bathroom. The second time, Steve offered to take him, but Jack insisted that I have the honor. I am awesome.

The lid to the wastebasket was broken, a source of endless fascination to Jack. He kept asking me about it - how it happend, who would fix it, and so on. As is often my strategy when barraged with his random questions, I turned it back on him - "Jack, how do you think it got broken?"

He gave the matter some thought, and in the car on the way home, he theorized:

Membe, after everyone was asleep, a monster or a nightmare had a key to Burger King. And then they got in and they sat on the trash can and it broke!

Steve and I agreed that this was a logical explanation, and that was undoubtedly how it happened. Then, we got this exchange:

Roary: Maybe, after Burger King was closed, a monkey and an elephant decided to go in. The monkey used the key to open the door and let the elephant in. Then, the elephant sat on the trash can and broke it.

Jack: That makes no sense, Roary.

Suits Me to a Tee

Take it and Run Thursday this week addresses an issue near and dear to the hearts of all runners: t-shirts. We run in them, and we all have boatloads of them in our dresser drawers from races. And there's nothing like a good running related t-shirt to put a smile on our faces.

My favorite running-related t-shirt is one that I don't wear for running at all, since it is (shudder) cotton. But I love to put it on after a tough run. It's from Life is Good, which is a sentiment that makes me smile, and it has a simple image and message.



When I wear that shirt, I feel like a runner - and like everyone who sees me knows it, too.

It's not a t-shirt, but I also love my running hat, which I bought at One More Mile, which is an excellent source for running slogans. It proudly proclaims:



And see? They have it on a shirt. The hat was a reward I bought myself after a long run in last year's marathon training. It helps me remember that the time I spend runnning is even better than hanging out at a bar drinking margaritas. Yes, I know that sounds crazy, but it's really true.

The running shirts that Amy and Tom at Runner's Lounge have created over the past week have inspired me. I think I'm going to need a custom t-shirt for my marathon in September. One that includes my new mantra and will show all of the spectators what I'm made of. What do you guys think?

These Kids Today

Last night was a track workout for me, and let me tell you, the Moline High School Track is a totally hopping place on a Tuesday night. No, really. There was a group of runners training together who seem to hit the track every Tuesday at around the same time as I do. And as an added bonus, there was a group of high school kids - members of the high school cross country team, judging by their t-shirts - who were also working out on the track.

In my years of high school cross country and track, I spent many, many hours on that track. It was the home of the 16 x 400 workout that was, for quite a while, the most physically difficult thing I'd ever done. The place where we'd have home track meets. The place where I learned to appreciate the smell of wet pavement. And, thanks to its incredibly poor surface, the place that gave me a stress fracture in each leg.

Ah, memories.

The track has since been resurfaced. Not only is it as spongy as running on a beautiful fluffy cloud of cotton candy, it's even a school-spirit inducing maroon. Every time I run on it, I appreciate how nice it is and think about my teenaged self hobbling over to the pool to do some water running because of the injured legs.

So, imagine my surprise when I saw two of the girls toting yoga mats "so it doesn't hurt my hands when I stretch." I immediately wanted to go into an Old Lady Rant.

You kids today! You have no idea how good you have it. When I was your age, our track was made out of the same concrete as the highway and was covered in broken glass. I still have pebbles embedded in my palms from stretching on it. And that's the way it was, and we liked it!

In other news, the workout was 5 x 1K repeats with 400 meter rest intervals. My goal was a 5:08 pace. Here's how it shook out:
5:03
4:58
5:04
5:10
5:01

Even without the benefit of a yoga mat.

Finding Focus

Internet! I have a problem.

The distances of my long runs are cranking up. Saturday, I ran 17 miles. (As I was running, I kept thinking I had to do 18, probably since that was one of the big distances I ran in training last year. Then I'd remember, "Oh, I only have to do 17. So no big deal." That goes to show you just how warped your brain gets in marathon training, since you think things like that while 17 miles is no big deal, 18 is somehow a more significant challenge, when actually it'd be tacking on well under 15 minutes to the time on my feet. Also, this is a long parenthentical thought.)

Physically, I felt fine. I continued to develop the world's largest blister on my left foot, but other than that and desperately needing a shower, I was in fine shape.

The problem was, after a while, the running started to feel monotonous. I lost focus, and allowed myself to take walk breaks that I honestly didn't need, just to mix things up a bit.

Does anyone have any advice on how to retain focus on a long run?

Bix at Six Kix

So, Internet, you guys probably have hometown races that you really like running. But I can confidently say*, mine kicks the most heiney-butt. Here in the scenic, and now mostly above water Quad Cities, we have the Bix 7. It's a seven mile race on a challenging, hilly course that attracts elite runners to the point where there are statues of Bill Rodgers and Joan Benoit-Samuelson near where the Michelob Ultra will be at the post-race party.

Not only that, but every Thursday on the weeks preceding the race, there is an official Bix at Six training run on the race course. As fate would have it, I was scheduled to do a 7-mile tempo run last night, so I went for it.

Hundreds of people showed up, the streets were blocked off, spectators cheered, water stops were plentiful, and sprinklers cooled us off... again, all for a training run.

It was a great night to be a runner.

Oh, also? I run 7.21 miles (the training course is a little bit farther) in 1:06 something. Woo hoo!












*unless you live in, um, Boston, or something, which totally doesn't count.

Go Running Anyway

It’s Thursday, which means it’s time for another edition of Runners’ Lounge’s Take It and Run Thursday. The challenge this week is to complete this statement in 13 words or less:

You are a runner…

Well, that’s easy. I can do it in five.

You are a runner when you go running anyway.

Of course, if you want to know what I mean by that, you’ll have to indulge me in a few extra words. Out here on the Internets, I’ve seen people wondering about whether or not they’re truly a runner. “I’m too slow,” they say. Or, “Well, I’ve never run a marathon, so I don’t think I’m really a runner.”

Think of the woman hauling ass up a hill with a double jogger. She might be running 13 minute miles or slower, but you can’t tell me that woman isn’t a runner. And think about all of the lightning fast sprinters who are about to rock out the 100 in Beijing. Usain Bolt of Jamaica can run 100 meters in less than 10 seconds. I don’t think he’s ever run a marathon, but I do believe the dude is a runner.

Being a runner is not about speed or distance; it’s about attitude. You know who I think is not a runner? Anyone who goes running only under ideal circumstances. You are a runner when you go running anyway.

• If you’ve had a lousy day at work and want nothing more than to sit on your couch and eat chips…
• If you’re exhausted from taking care of your kids…
• If it’s pouring rain and blowing wind a million miles an hour…
• If it’s so hot and humid that you have to get up at the crack of dawn to avoid melting on the road…
• If there’s no way you can avoid hills…
• If you didn’t sleep well last night…
• If you’ve got a blister on your foot that’s killing you…
• If you forgot your iPod…
• If you feel fat and slow…
• If it’s snowing and anyone with any sense is bundled up under a blanket…
• If it’s a great Saturday to lie in bed, but you’ve got a 5K to race…
• If you’ve got family in town and everybody looks at you a little cross eyed for lacing up your running shoes…

If you can look any of these excuses in the eye, put on your shoes, and go running anyway, then you are a runner.

Turned Around

Last night's run had all the potential to be a bad one.

For one thing, I was late getting home. I picked up Jack at my mom's house, and things were chaotic. Jack's stuff was scattered all over the place, and I had to find Roary under the computer desk. Why? Because the little man had just fallen and scraped the Charles Dickens out of his knee and elbow. Dr. Mommy and Nurse Grandma had to patch him all up, and by the time I got home, it was 5:45.

In my rush to get out of the house, I forgot my iPod. Fine, I thought. No music. I don't want to turn back to get it because it's starting to rain.

I ran to the track for my Stairs workout - 1200, 1000, 800, 600, 400, 200. And then discovered that I couldn't run there because there was some kind of track meet going on.

What to do? I couldn't go on the track, and I didn't want to leave and go somewhere else to run. There was a long, straight stretch of road in front of the track, where I've started and finished many a road run for cross country practice in high school, so I decided to just do my workout there. Better than nothing.

It ended up being much better than nothing.

Warm-up: 1.82 miles, 18:54, 10:22 pace
1200: 5:56, 7:55 pace
1000: 5:13, 8:17 pace
800: 4:03, 8:08 pace
600: 3:01, 7:59 pace
400: 1:55, 7:43 pace
200: 54:48, 7:00 pace
Cool-down: 1.37 miles, 17:18, 12:38 pace (there was some walking in there)

Just goes to show, you never know when a good run will find you.

Awwww.

Jack: MOMMY! I need you.
Me: What for?
Jack: Well, I have two tigers and one Quackers, but nobody to cuddle with!
Me: I'll be right there.

Squishable

This morning, Steve told Jack that we are getting ceiling fans installed in our bedroom and in his. The new ceiling fan, Steve said, would help keep Jack cool and comfortable at night. Jack's wee face then lit up, and he said:

And it will blow all of the nightmares out of my room, Daddy! Those nightmares won't be able to stay because they will just fly away.

Sometimes I just want to squish that little guy.

Running's Gateway Drug

In the movie Ratatouille, Remy the gourmand rat’s hero Gusteau lived by a simple philosophy: Anyone can cook. It may take time, patience, and hard work, but Remy learned that anyone – even a lowly rat – can cook.

If Gusteau had been a runner instead of a cook, he’d have been about fifty pounds lighter. No, wait… that’s not where I was going with this. If Gusteau had been a runner, I believe he would have said this:

Anyone can run a 5K.

I saw this philosophy put into practice last Saturday when I ran Race for the Cure. Over 9,000 people woke up early on this beautiful day, put on running shoes, and ran 3.1 miles. There were definitely some serious runners there, but there were also people who I’m sure were competing for the very first time.

Yes, new runners, we experienced veterans can tell that this is your first 5K. Maybe your running shoes are blindingly white and too new, or maybe they’re beat up and have clearly been kicking around your closet for a long time. Maybe you’ve pinned your race number on the back of your shirt, rather than on the front where God intended it. An even clearer sign? You’re wearing the race t-shirt. Veteran runners would not only never wear the shirt before finishing the race, but heavens: it’s cotton!

When I see someone running their very first 5K, I think, “Get behind me, loser. You’re not a real runner.” No, wait, that’s not it. Instead, I rub my hands together like a super villain and say, “You will be mine. Oh, yes. You will be mine.”

That’s because a 5K is the gateway drug to running. It’s how we lure you in. We promise programs that take you not from “a base level of mileage of blah, blah,” but from your couch to a 5K. Many 5K’s are for a good cause. After all, who doesn’t oppose breast cancer or want to support melanoma research? It is no coincidence that 5K’s tend to be flat – no need for pesky hills to potentially scare off any new runners. We want you to soak in the party atmosphere of the race, feel cool in your new t-shirt, discover the free cookies and popsicles waiting for you at the after-party… to say nothing of the awesome sense of accomplishment you get at finishing your first race.

With any luck, just a few of those new runners I saw on Saturday liked their first hit of the gateway drug. Maybe they’ll stick with that first drug, happily running weekend 5K’s… and maybe they’ll move on to the hard stuff. Either way, I’m happy. Runner's Lounge's Take it and Run Thursday wants tips for 5K's, and mine is simple: Anyone can run a 5K, and everyone should try.

Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say YES!

When I get home from a run, Jack always greets me with, "Did you have a good run, Mommy?" which delights me to no end. Lately, he has been following up that question with, "Did you win?"

One school of thought would be that I should answer thusly:

Sweetie, when I go running, most of the time, it's not a race. What I'm doing is improving my fitness, enjoying the fresh air, and relieving stress so I can be a better mommy. I do have goals, but instead of challenging someone else, I am really challenging myself. And with that, I am always a winner.

However, I prefer this approach:

Yes.

I mean, come on: did you see anybody finish ahead of me?

Don't Forget

This week, I have officially started my training for the Quad Cities Marathon. My training program is much more challenging this time around, and I am fully counting on logging a PR.

But this weekend? I am skipping my long run of 13 miles. Instead, I am running a 5K. And no, I am not going to just use that 5K as a speed workout. In fact, I plan on turning in what will probably be a Personal Worst for the 5K. I may even take some walk breaks. I could do my long run on Sunday, but I'm not going to.

Saturday is my 11th wedding anniversary. My fabulous, wonderful, supportive, world's greatest running cheerleader husband wants to run Race for the Cure with me to kick off our day of fun. What, am I going to ditch him and race to the finish? No, some things are more important.

Sunday is Father's Day. Steve is such a loving and accomodating husband that he actually said that surely we could spare a few hours for me to get in a run on Sunday. The very fact that he offered that proves to me that he more than deserves a full day of love and attention from me and Jack.

The fact of the matter is, I can go a weekend without a quality run, and I will still be able to finish the marathon - and I suspect, still get my PR.

More importantly, I don't have to do any of this. Running is supposed to be fun; it's not my job. I am not going to win this race, get an age group award, or even qualify for Boston. There are a lot of reasons that I run - stress relief, to challenge myself, to improve my health, to get time to myself, to be able to eat more ice cream, because I love the smell of wet sidewalks on a rainy day...

If I skip a long run to spend a special weekend with my family, I will still get every one of those benefits.

The theme for this week's Take It and Run Thursday is "As you start your marathon (or half marathon) training, don't forget..."

My advice is simple: don't forget why you do this.

Point and Laugh

On Saturday morning, I took Jack to his first real swimming lesson. And by real, I mean, he is really learning how to swim, not just being a happy baby splashing in the water while I sang "Wheels on the Bus."

We arrived at the pool ready to go, and the teacher informed me that I would not be getting in the pool with Jack. I had assumed that I would be, given that (1) he can't swim and (2) he is too short to stand up in the shallow end. Apparently, I was the only parent who made that assumption, which also meant that I was the only adult there wearing a swimming suit.

Yeah.

And to make matters worse, we grown-ups did not get to sit on the side of the pool to watch, but rather had to sit out in the lobby.

You ever feel self-consious in a swimming suit? Well, imagine that you are also the only one who is NOT fully dressed. And that you are not sitting next to a pool.

Since changing into my real clothes was not an option (we needed to be there to watch in case the kidlets should need us), I decided to just adopt the proper attitude. As in, "Yeah, catlickers. I'm wearing my swimming suit. And I look freaking hot, don't I? Go ahead, take a good look. Can you tell I'm a marathoner? By the way, nice shorts. I can see you're really getting your money's worth out of that elastic waistband."

Meme-o-Rama

Absolut(ly) Fit just did an asston of memes and gave a random, "whatever, you're tagged if you want to be" tag. Seeing as how this means I wouldn't have to come up with content on my own today, I'm calling myself tagged.

Write your own six-word memoir.

She got things done.

That's right, Internet: I am so efficient that I can do this in just four words. I take an inordinate amount of delight in making lists and crossing things off of them. I multi-task and get more done before 10:00 on Saturday morning than many people do all day. And, at work, my job is to handle project management, which basically boils down to telling other people what to do and when to do it. My unofficial title is The Badger because I badger people to do their work.

Share seven random or weird facts about yourself.

1. I love to peel things. Chipping paint. Nail polish. Sunburned flesh. If it peels, I cannot resist it.


2. You know the way snobby people curl their little fingers while drinking tea? Sure you do. Anyway, the pinky fingers on both of my hands are like that pernamently. I was born that way, and they do not straighten. I am pretty sure this is not the only thing keeping me from being a concert pianist.


3. When I was pregnant, one of my biggest cravings was for ham sandwiches. This should have been my first indication that I was having a boy, because Wasser men love ham.


4. I am really good at counted cross stitch, but haven't done it in years.


5. I have a dresser drawer devoted entirely to camisoles.


6. I write for, and edit, a blog about comic books. Check it out, my friends:The Bad Genious .


7. I'm 33 years old, but am only on my second car.

And a running one...
1. How would you describe your running 10 years ago? In a word, sporadic. I was 23 ("twenty-three and so tired of life, such a shame to throw it all away...") and foolishly devoted to a job in which I was treated like crap. Working from 8:00 to 10:00 every day (when not hiding in the secret bathroom where I could cry undetected) left little time for running, but every once in a while I'd bust out a 3 miler.
2. What were your best and worst race experiences? I think my best race experience was my recent trisko, the Quad Cities Distance Classic. My expectations were pretty low going into it, considering that I was injured. Then, the weather was terrible - freezing cold with high winds. And yet, I gutted it out and finished with a time of 2:05, which I am very proud of. I think my worst experience was probably last year's Race For the Cure. I have two words for you, which anyone else who has given birth can understand: stress incontinence. Nuff said - in fact, too much said.
3. What are the best and worst pieces of advice you've been given about running? I've gotten lots of good advice in my 20+ years of running. One thing that comes to mind came from my high school cross country coach, the awesomely named Coach Quick. Quick told us that in order to run well, you have to have strong arms. He had us lift weights, which I have always felt made me stronger. I also know that when I get tired, I tend to hunch up my shoulders, so I remember to drop them down and use better form, which makes me less fatigued. Bad advice tends to come from non-runners, who say dumbass things like, "I wouldn't run unless somebody was chasing me." I smile as if I haven't heard that one a thousand times already and secretly feel superior to them.
4. Tell us something surprising about yourself that not many people would know. I just did a big pile of random above, so I'll keep this running-related. Um... I always put on mascara before I go running. I may turn into a beet-red sweaty mess, but I will look much cuter and more awake due to the mascara.

If you want to be tagged, you are.

Nobody Does it Better

Amy and Tom, the fine folks behind Runner's Lounge, are celebrating the site's first anniversary by encouraging us to post the best posts of the past year. I've gotten some great feedback from my friend Internet on my post about the last 6.2 miles of my first marathon, and I got a crazy amount of comments when I posted all about my butt.

But to me, Runner's Lounge is not an opportunity to remind everyone of how awesome my butt is (though obviously I'm sure the appreciation of my heiney was part of Tom and Amy's original vision), but rather a way to connect with, and be inspired by other runners. Reading other running blogs has honestly made me a better runner.

You guys are a constant source of inspiration. The Laminator wrote a great post about the way a good run can make any day better. I defy you to read Marathon Dude Bill's race report about Boston and not want to put on your shoes and hit the road. Or check out Kent's Power Climb and marvel at what a total bad-ass he is. And when I read Non-Runner Nancy's recap of her first triathlon, I wanted to put on some red lipstick and nail polish and join her and Amy.

I find myself cheering for my BRFs, like when I read POM/Jessica's triumphant half marathon race report. I gave a big "hell yeah" when one of the other Running Betsys threw down the gauntlet: she set the goal of qualifying for Boston. And when my friend Sandy finishedher very first trisko, I'm sure she heard me yelling "GO SANDY" all the way in Virginia.

I also find myself admiring how brave, strong, and tough my BRFs are. Jessica at 21 Days realized the value of failing. Kate blogged about her struggles with depression and anxiety. And yet another Runner Betsy realized that fear is holding her back. And despite incredibly bad conditions, Tom finished the Chicago marathon like the class act that he is.

Even when you guys are injured, you help me out as a runner. Nibbles saw light at the end of the tunnel when she found a good sports doctor. And the story that Frayed Laces tells about finishing her first marathon with a broken pelvis should be required reading for all runners.

We BRFs can kick up all kinds of righteous indignation on each other's parts. We read about Meg's ridculously competitive friends and Laura's manager's theory that running a marathon is easy, and we are ready to throw down.

Other posts are just instant classics. Chloe Elizabeth's Dear You to the marathon is great reading, and Amy's Running Handicap Calculator is an idea whose time has come. Plus, I've got to love RazZDoodle, a man who hates the treadmill just as much as I do.

Finally, you people crack me up. I loved reading about Vanilla "accidentally" cross dressing, or the time that Topher tried to earn a Garmin by potty training his son. There was the plan Nitmos had to torture marathoners. And of course, there is something special about Marcy's gallery of bathroom shots.

So, let me sing you out. There is of course, Madonna:

Time goes by so slowly for those who wait
No time to hesitate
Those who run seem to have all the fun

But this calls for Carly Simon.

Nobody does it better
Makes me feel sad for the rest
Nobody does it half as well* as you
Baby, you're the best

*lyrics actually say "good," but that offends me gramatically

My FIRST Attempts

Since I've officially decided to use FIRST to train for the Quad Cities Marathon, I am going to have to do something I really don't want to do. That is, incorporate cross training into my workout.



I kicked things off on Monday by going to the pool to run some laps. Let me begin by saying that I looked fantastic. I had on my sportiest looking swimming suit - a solid navy blue tankini (Tankini: The Official Swimwear of Moms Trying to be Cute), a new swimming cap, and goggles. I totally looked the part.

Then, I quickly discovered something. You guys, swimming is really catlicking HARD. Who knew you could sweat so much while in an indoor pool? My routine was to swim a lap, gasp for breath for 15 seconds, do a kickboard lap, gasp for breath for 15 seconds, and repeat.

I was almost finished when an old man in a speedo got into the lane next to me. He had hip problems that caused him to limp, but once he got in the pool, he proceeded to completely kick my ass.

Nevertheless, I'll keep at it. I will concede that I see the science behind cross training, and I do want to get to the starting line injury free. And if I have to take out Oldy McSpeedswimmer Tonya Harding style along the way? So be it.

Face it, Tiger: You just hit the jackpot.

Two years ago, a miraculous transformation took place. Roary went from being Random Stuffed Cat/Tiger Sitting On The Coffee Table to Jack’s Best Friend – and a valued part of our family. So valued, in fact, that for the second time, we celebrated Roary’s birthday.

I’m happy to say that this year, Roary did not have to help Jack through any surgeries or trips to the emergency room. He did, however, stick with Jack through his the move to Stately Wasser Manor, the transition to his Big Boy Bed, a new school, and potty training. Roary and Jack play together, take naps together, and argue like brothers. When Jack is tired or stressed, he has been known to yell, “Roary! I need you!” And one of my favorite moments ever in my life came on our trip to Disney World. Jack asked Steve how we were able to hear Jiminy Cricket’s voice during the fireworks. Steve said that it was magic. Jack pointed up in the sky and said, “Look, Roary: Magic.”



Jack’s understanding of Roary’s importance has deepened in this past year. About a month ago, I heard Jack’s panicked yell from the bathroom. Acting purely on instinct, I found myself rapidly removing a pile of sodden orange fur from the toilet – Jack dropped Roary as it was flushing.

It was quite a while before Jack found the humor in that situation. He clung to Roary (who I’d secretly swapped for a clean, dry model) and thanked me for rescuing him. “Roary, you could have been lost,” he said tearfully. “You’re part of our family.”

Amazingly, that family has grown. Steve and Jack went to Barnes and Noble last week and found a selection of Roaries, who Jack immediately decided were Roary’s family and should read books with them. When it came time to put the tigers away and say goodbye to them, Jack started to move slowly. He replaced all of the tigers but one.
“Daddy,” he said, “I really want to take this tiger home with us. She is Roary’s mommy and Roary needs his mommy. And then she would be part of our family too.”
Steve listened carefully, and he could tell that Jack was being completely sincere. He was not trying to score a new tiger, so much as he was looking out for his friend. Sure enough, when Jack came home, he held Roary’s mommy over his head and announced, “Ta-da! This is Roary’s mommy and she is part of our family now and her name is Susie!” The Roary and Susie hugged and kissed.



A little while later, Jack grew pensive. He realized that Susie still had her whiskers, but that Roary’s are long gone. It made him sad to think that his friend was missing his whiskers. So, I explained to Jack that he had loved Roary’s whiskers off, and that is what happens to friends who are special to us. I showed him Rexa, who was my special dinosaur when I was a little girl, and the place under her chin where I rubbed off all of the green. I told him that it doesn’t hurt Rexa, just like the missing whiskers don’t hurt Roary, because it reminds them of how much we love them. This made Jack feel better – so much better, in fact, that the next day he removed Susie’s whiskers so that he would know she was loved, too.



We celebrated Roary’s birthday like a family: with cupcakes (marble, so they’d be striped like Roary) with orange icing (Roary’s favorite color) that we decorate with jungle animal candies and black icing stripes. I don’t recommend the black icing, but I do recommend spending a birthday with loved ones.



Happy birthday, Roary, and welcome to the family, Susie.

Declaration of Independence

A few mornings ago, I woke up to the sound of the water running in the bathroom. Odd, I thought, and as I turned it off, I noticed that Jack's stool was in front of the sink and that the cups were much closer to the edge than usual. My detective skills are second only to Batman's, so I had an idea of what was going on.

When Jack woke up, I said,"Hey, I want to ask you something, buddy."

Jack then grinned ear to ear, and excitedly began this monologue:

Guess what, Mommy? Last night, I was thirsty, so I got out of my bed all by myself and went into the bathroom. Then, I moved the stool over to the sink and turned on the sink. All by myself, Mommy! I got the cups and filled a cup with water, and I did not spill it, Mommy! Then, I squashed the cup and threw it in the trash and went back to my bed. I didn't turn off the water, though.

Then, he literally clapped his hands with joy at this miraculous accomplishment. Steve, who was listening too, said, "That's great, buddy! And next time, if you need help turning off the sink, come wake up Daddy and I will help you."

I agreed, emphasizing, "Go ahead and wake up Daddy. Daddy will turn off the water for you. Daddy."

That's Hot

I live in the midwest and am training for a September marathon. That means there's no getting around it: I need to run in the hot, humid, sticky, nasty dog days of summer.

As Nicole Richie (who I just know would be my BFF if we ever hung out, because girlfriend is hilarous and I would take her out for margaritas and nachos because she should not get so thin ever again) would say, "That's hot."

Thus, the theme for this week's
Take it and Run Thursday: running in the heat.

Amy had a great post earlier this week with some excellent practical advice for running in the heat. I can't even imagine improving upon it, so I won't try. Instead, I will offer Betsy's Salute to Hot Weather Post-Run Food. There are some foods that could not be more delicious than after a hot weather run.

1. Popsicles. I love popsicles under any circumstances, but after a long run in the heat, they are heavenly. There are popsicles in my freezer at all times, usually two boxes. That is because Jack prefers Spider-Man popsicles

and I cannot imagine anything more vile than a black popsicle. I tend to buy the 100% Fruit Juice kind, but either way, they are so fabulously cold after a hot run.

2. Watermelon. Ice cold out of the fridge, and with plenty of liquid in it to replenish lost fluids. Mmm.

3. Gatorade. Like Amy said, Gatorade never tastes better than after a long run.

4. Ice cream. Enough said.

5. Apple slices. Magically take care of weird gumminess in your mouth and taste amazing as well.


What about you catlickers? What's your favorite post hot run treat?

Race Report: Wild 5 5K

Although Yoda knows i've done a lot of running in the past year or so, I haven't run a 5K since last June. And to be honest, those 5Ks that I ran last year aren't efforts that I am especially proud of. It has really just been this year that I've made the decision to take my running to the next level. To not just go out there and run, but to focus my training, pay attention to my times, or really have any thought in my head but to run. So, in a way, this was the first 5K that counted.

The Lead Up:
Unfortunately, the lead up to it wasn't the greatest. I took a (well deserved) week off after my trisko, but last week, I haven't been able to run much at all. It's an insanely busy time for my husband at work, so I had pretty much full-time Cub Duty. However, I ran 3 miles on Wednesday night with a time of 26:something, so I set a race goal of 26:00. That's a great improvement on my previous PR of 27:46.

The Night Before:
McDonald's Quarter Pounder, fries, and an ice cream sundae. And then a lousy night of sleep. Lovely.

Race Morning:
I woke up focused... but not really on running. I was focused on getting a cup of coffee, having a quick breakfast, getting dressed, waking Jack up, getting him dressed and with a glass of milk, then going to pick up Katie, his "boysitter" (because as Jack will remind you, he is not a baby), getting the two of them settled, and myself to the race - all in an hour and a half.

The Race:
There's only so much you can say about a race that's only 3.1 miles long. My strategy was to just put in a really strong effort and see where I went from there. The weather was pretty well perfect, probably in the 60s or something like that. The course had a few gentle hills, and was an out and back. The first mile felt awesome, as did the second. During the third mile, I started to feel pain in my side, so I dropped my shoulders and focused on my breathing. I gutted through it, kicked it to the end, and was thrilled at the final results:

25:13, a new PR! For those into stats, that's 9th for my age group, 260something overall.

Say My Name

In the book Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris was disappointed to learn that his IQ was too low to qualify for Mensa.

Hugh consoled me by saying, "Don't let it get to you. There are plenty of things you're good at."

When asked for some examples, he listed vacuuming and naming stuffed animals. He says he can probably come up with a few more, but he'll need some time to think.

This passage has always amused me, because I do believe that one of my great talents has always been naming stuffed animals. Never have I had a teddy bear named Teddy or some such foolishness. Under my watch, stuffed animals get names that truly suit them, Roary being a prime example.

Clearly, some of my BRF's, with sadly unnamed Garmins, need my help.

Nancy, your Garmin is now named Ayla, after Daryl Hannah's cavegirl character in Clan of the Cave Bear. Club in hand, Ayla will spur you on throughout your workouts.

Kent, I have decided to name your Garmin Bob, after Dr. Robert Atkins, the man who helped transform you into the man you are today.

Nitmos? Bad news, buddy: your Garmin is now named Vanilla, after your nemesis. Think of it this way: when it beeps at you, you can say, "Shut up, Vanilla. I know what I'm doing."

Jen calls herself The 311 Boys' Mom because her two sons were both born on March 11 - more than a decade apart. Jen's Garmin will be known as June, since I have a feeling June is a lucky month for her.

(List to be updated as more BRF's are in need of my skills. Other skills, by the way, include drawing Star Wars characters in a manner realistic enough to suit a three-year-old and finding my way in malls.)

Name It

Okay, fellow runner nerds, I've got to know:

What did you name your Garmin and why?

When I got my Forerunner 205, it was pretty much love at first step. All of a sudden, I had no idea how I could live without the ability to know my exact pace, time, and mileage with impressive accuracy at every given second. I couldn't possibly think of this new coach as just "the Garmin."

Clearly, it needed a name. Especially if it was going to keep beeping at me every mile or so. And I wanted it to be a woman's name... and what better choice than to name her after kick-ass awesome marathon mama Paula Radcliffe?

So, I've got Paula. Topher runs with Duncan. What did you name your Garmin?

Feeling Cross

Often, the brilliant minds over at Runners' Lounge seem to be able to see exactly what's on my mind. Almost as if there were some thing on the internet where they could read my thoughts; I don't know how they do it.

Anyway, this week for Take It and Run Thursday, the theme is Cross Training. To be honest, I'm really not into it. Like Tom said a few days ago, "I'd rather be running." But now that I'm about to start using FIRST for this fall's marathon, cross training is going to be an essential part of my preparation.

I know what I need to do: bike, swim, or maybe walk. And I get why - it'll help strengthen my body and allow me to have "active rest." I'm just not enthusiastic about it. If only my regular life could be considered cross training. Thus, I propose Betsy's Real Life Cross Training Program:

• Carrying all of the groceries into the house in one trip.


• Having endless "battle fights" with Jack and his ever-growing collection of toy swords. Bonus effort points for not losing my mind in boredom.


• Shoveling snow. Sure, it's May, but I'm not convinced it won't snow again, like, tomorrow, given the winter we had.


• Cooking dinner with one 30+ pound boy hanging on my leg.


• Not making sarcastic comments when it would be inappropriate to do so, tempting though it might be, particularly at work.


• Folding and putting away laundry.


• Suffering through "Your call is very important to us" on-hold purgatory.


• Updating my blog entries (though considering this is my first post since Friday, I might have to focus on other things).


• Lugging Jack to my mom's house on days in which he insists that I carry his gigantic bag of toys, Roary and three other stuffed animals who are now Roary's good friends and Roary cannot stand to be parted from them, a huge toy pirate ship, two costumes, a snack, and Jack himself, whose desire to be carried is not so strong that he stops squirming.

Does any of that count?

The Next Step

After finishing last week's trisko, I made a move that is very unlike me:

I took the entire week off from running.

My running is an important part of my routine. It centers me. More importantly, it gives me something to think about and focus on besides the daily grind of working, keeping the house marginally clean, TV, and watching the earth's plates shift in the painfully long amount of time that it takes Jack to get in and out of his car seat. I look forward to it every day, and in this past week, I have really missed those quiet hours pounding the pavement.

In the meantime, I've been plotting what's next for me. Now that the weather is nice, it is without a doubt Running Season, the most glorious time of year for us runners.

I am lucky to live in an area in which running is extremely popular. If I wanted to, I could probably find a race to run within a half hour drive every single weekend. Considering that would leave me pretty well broke, I've decided instead to run one race a month. Here's what's on the agenda:

• May 24: Wild 5 5K. I am so hardcore on this one that I have actually hired a babysitter to hang out with Jack while I run this race. I've never done this one before, but I'm eager to get a recent 5K time for training purposes, plus the t-shirt is technical fabric, so score!


• June 14: Race for the Cure 5K. Race for the Cure is always a big party, and is of course for a great cause. Better still, this race falls on Steve's and my 11th anniversary, and we're looking forward to running it together. For extra fun, Steve's workplace fields a team for this event, which we've joined.


• July 4: Firecracker 5K or 10K. It's the 4th of July, so I'll have the day off work, and what better to do than get in a race? I ran the 10K last year, and it was, as the brochure promised, "hilly and challenging." I'll probably do the 10K again this year.


• July 26: Bix 7. If you live in the Quad Cities like I do, you cannot consider yourself a runner and not run the Bix. I am working on recruiting BRFs to come to Davenport for this fun event.


• August: TBD. I don't know yet what I'll do in August. We'll see what strikes my fancy.


• September 28: Quad Cities Marathon. This will be my second marathon, and I'm going to tell you right now, Internet: I am getting a PR.

Marathon training officially starts on June 9. I'd really like to use a program that involves running more days than not, but I also know that there are three members of my family, not just one. So, I'm going to try out the FIRST to the Finish Line program. I will do intense runs on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, with cross training on Mondays, Fridays, and possibly Sundays.

Ooh, pretty

Internet! Lookit what I've got!




It's a new necklace from Tarma Designs and I *pink puffy heart* it.

They have a bunch of other running-inspired jewelry, so more shopping might have to be done. Some of you might argue that I don't need to buy 47 different running necklaces. To that, I say that this necklace is made from recycled materials, so why do you have to hate the earth so much?

Duh

The theme for this week's Take It and Run Thursday is "It was so obvious!"

Well here's one:

If you set goals for yourself, you will be a better runner.

That's right, Internet. I recently discovered that if you try to run faster/longer/stronger, you have a considerably better chance of, in fact, becoming faster/longer/stronger.

Duh.

I have been a runner since I was about 10 years old. I ran my first 5K way back in 1985, and I am still very proud of the varsity letters I got in cross country and track in high school (because I worked my butt off to earn them). But honestly, when I'd go out and run your usual Saturday 5K race, my only thoughts would be "This is fun," "Cool t-shirt," and "I wonder what the after-party will be like."

I didn't train for anything specific, and I didn't pay much attention to my times.

But this year, I resolved to take my running to the next level. And a big part of that was setting goals for myself. Because I had goals in mind, my training was more focused. I tried harder, and paid more attention to how I was doing.

I went into my trisko training with a goal of 2:00, which was ambitious for me. My injury made me back off that goal a bit, and I honestly didn't think I'd do well, given the weather. But even without a perfect training period, my time was only five minutes off that ambitious goal.

All of this leads to the head slapping, "duh" revelation:
If I try to do something, I just might do it. Even if I don't quite make that goal, I'll do better than I would have otherwise.

Trisko Race Report: Quad Cities Distance Classic

Yesterday, I ran my very first trisko*, the Quad Cities Distance Classic. Training, as dedicated and sexy readers know, has not gone according to plan. I was hoping to run 2:00 or faster, in preparation for aggressive marathon training, but an injured shin meant I had to miss a week of training and back off the speed workouts in a big way. So, going into the race, my official goal was "whatever," though I would have been happy with anything under 2:30.

I was awakened yesterday morning when a huge gust of wind rattled Stately Wasser Manor. The weather was absolutely horrible - pouring rain, cold, with high gusts of wind. I was soaking wet after just walking through the parking lot. It was not a good start. While I was stretching (and people watching), I heard a man say, "I'm glad I'm just doing the 5K. With this weather, the half marathon is just going to be miserable." Thanks, dude. It might be true, but I so did not want to hear it. A big part of me just wanted to bag it. To either run the 5K or just crawl back into bed for some Mother's Day pampering. But, I reasoned, a race like this shows what you're made of as a runner. And it might be Mother's Day, but I? Am one tough mother.

"One tough mother" became my mantra as I ran the race.

I took my place at the start, along with my fellow sufferers. The race director said, "Okay, I'm going to make this fast. No announcements, no thank yous, no national anthem. I'm just going to fire the gun. Go!"

I'd planned to keep an eye on Paula, my faithful Garmin, to make sure my pace was conservative at the start of the race, but Paula was struggling. She couldn't get satellite reception for the first four miles, so I decided to just run comfortably and see what happened. If I finished slow, so be it - this was my first trisko, I was guaranteed a PR, and if my time was slow, well, then it'd just be easier to beat.

The race started off with a bitch of a hill that went from the half mile mark to the mile mark. The hill is just a block away from Stately Wasser Manor, so I've been running it on pretty much every workout. I used to struggle on that hill; yesterday, I kicked its ass.

The Quad Cities Distance Classic is not a big race by any means. There were only 222 people running the trisko, and when I drove the course the day before, I realized that we weren't likely to see many spectators. Add to that the fact that it was Mother's Day and the weather was terrible, well, it definitely wasn't a big race with lots of crowd energy, bands at every mile, or anything like that. It was just me, the other runners, and the volunteers. I made an effort to give a wave to every single volunteer, because standing out in that weather and not even running had to have been lousy.

The race course was scenic, or at least would have been had it not been so horrible out. We ran through Moline and back to Rock Island. The course ran through some really nice residentail neighborhoods - and some sketchy ones. We then ran along the Mississippi, which was definitely flooding.

All the while, the wind battered me. At a few points, it blew behind me, prompting me to run faster than I might have otherwise. Then it would switch and I'd have to lower my head to fight through it - and keep my hat on. Mostly, it blew sideways. And Yoda, but it was cold. I swear I saw sleet and snow and certain points in the race.

At the water stop at mile 5, I spilled most of a cup of water on my gloved hands, but it was so cold out that I was better off wearing the wet gloves than taking them off. I repeated my "One tough mother" mantra, thought of the Toughness Points I was accumulating, and dreamed not of my post-race meal but of a pair of dry socks.

Still, I was feeling good. I passed mile 7 and thought, "Okay, only two three milers left." At mile 10, I took out my cell phone and called Steve so that he and Jack (and my mom and stepdad) could come to the finish line to watch me. Jack got on the phone and said, "Go, Mommy, go!" which spurred me on further.

At mile 12, there was a long incline that was no fun whatsoever. I started to feel pain in the achilles tendons of both legs. That was a new one - my achilles have not bothered me in the least in all of my training runs. So, I attempted some of the mental exercises I've read about and told it, "Hey, achilles pain? Now is not a good time. After I finish this race, I will give you all kinds of attention. I will slather you in Biofreeze and take a ton of Advil, but for now, pipe down." Other runners were struggling, and I passed a ton of people on that hill.

As I headed into the final part of the race, my power song, "All These Things That I've Done," came on. Awesome, as that song is always in my head when I picture finishing a race. The last part of the race is a lap around the track at Augustana College, and Steve, Jack, my mom, and stepdad were there cheering for me and waving at me. I'd been looking forward to seeing their faces, and it really energized me.

I rocked it around the track, passing three people before I headed into the finish chute. The volunteers who took my name from my race number and handed me a finisher's medal were amazed at my kick. Jack almost knocked me to the ground with a mighty leg hug, then I got hugs from Steve, my mom, and stepdad. Other runners milling around smiled that it was a good Mother's Day present, and I have to agree.

One of the other runners, who I think of as Red Vest Guy, came and congratulated me on my race. "You were a good pacer," he said, and I told him he was too. Red Vest Guy and I were close to each other throughout the race. He'd pass me, then I'd chase his red vest and I'd pass him, and so on. I don't even know which one of us finished the race first, but I do know that keeping an eye on him helped me run better.

And how'd I do? Well, like I said, given my injuries and the conditions, I stuck firm with my goal time of "whatever." So, imagine how happy I was when I saw the clock at the finish reading 2:05. That means that I ran those 13.1 miles at an average pace of 9:34 per mile. I came in 9th for my age group and feel just incredibly proud. I finished the race with a new mantra, a new distance under my belt, a ton of Toughness Points, and a PR that is going to be a challenge to beat.



*that's a half marathon to those of you who haven't fully bought into my rebranding of the race.

Oedipus Wrecks

The other night, Jack and I were talking about princesses. As you do. And I asked him which princess is his favorite. He amended his initial response of "all of them" to say Princess Giselle. Why? "Because she wears that beautiful big white dress, Mommy. You should get one like that."

I told Jack that I do have a big white dress like that. In fact, my big white dress is probably only slightly smaller than the comically exaggerated dress from Enchanted. Jack was amazed that I have a dress like that, yet do not wear it every single day, because really, why wouldn't you?

Before he could suggest that I get my dress out of the place where I have it hermetically sealed, I distracted him with an album of wedding pictures. Jack loved them. Not only did they feature a very glamorous Mommy and Daddy, but lots of other people Jack knows. Seeing his older, sophisticated (he is 12, after all) cousin Devin as a baby? Fascinating. Then, Jack and I had this conversation.

Jack: Mommy? When you get married again, will you marry me?

Me: I can't, buddy. I'm already married to Daddy.

Jack: Well, then what am I supposed to do?

I suggested that he could marry somebody else. Somebody smart and funny and... "Membe Cinderella," Jack suggested. Then he had an even better idea: Princess Jasmine, from Aladdin. After all, Princess Jasmine is brave, smart, pretty, and has a pet tiger, just like Jack. Clearly, the two of them already have a lot in common.

Non-Taper Madness

Marathoners know the perils of Taper Madness. That is, in the final few weeks before the big race, we turn down the miles and turn up the Crazy. It makes sense that this would happen. A marathon is a big challenge, no matter how experienced you are. And you know what helps all of us runners relieve stress and keep from losing our damned minds? Running. Which, during the taper, you are doing signficantly less of.

Not long ago, I predicted that, since I'm training for a trisko, I'd avoid any of the Crazy. The distance isn't nearly as daunting to me - I have no doubt in my mind that I can finish it. And no taper mean no Taper Madness, right?

Please, take a moment to laugh at me. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Because the truth of the matter is, I get nervous before every single race. I was full-blown crazy before the marathon, to be sure, but I feel butterflies even when I'm about to do a 5K.

My nervousness defies reason. That 5k, 4 miler, 7 miler, or even the trisko? I know I can finish these distances. I even know I'm not going to come in last... and it's not like there's any chance I'm going to win or even get an age group award. There is absolutely no pressure on me whatsover. And yet, nervous crazy thoughts abound as I wait for the race to start.

I have started to get nervous about the trisko already. Again, I know I'm not coming in last, and I know I'm not going to win anything. My race goal of "whatever"? I'm pretty sure I can pull that one off. Plus, since this is my first trisko, I have a guaranteed PR.

So, why was I up last night, unable to sleep, running through scenerios and mile splits in my head?

The Last 6.2

Today's topic for Take It and Run Thursday is marathon madness. There are a lot of things I could say about the experience of training for and running a marathon, but today I'm just going to focus on the final 6.2 miles.

I get a kick out of this t-shirt:



because for me, that final 10K was a true test. Like many marathoners, the longest run I'd done in training was 20 miles. It felt like a huge leap of faith to think that another 6.2 miles would be no problem, considering that running 20 was such a challenge. But I set out on that fall morning in Des Moines trying to be as confident as possible that I could do it.

My husband and son were waiting for me at the 20 mile mark. They waved, cheered, blew kisses, and promised they'd see me just before the finish line.

As I passed them, a huge smile found its way across my face. In that moment, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to finish the marathon. I felt absolutely giddy. All of those months of training were coming together. And with every step I took, I was running farther than I'd ever gone before. I passed a group of high school students who were playing the drums and as I crossed over into the park, I felt like I could conquer the world.

The trouble was, fatigue was starting to set in. My problem wasn't The Wall (which I never hit) so much as keeping my mental focus. Four plus hours is a long time to be doing anything; you can get bored watching a movie that's that long, much less spending all that time running.

I found myself taking walk breaks, not so much because my legs were tired, but to break up the monotony. I made a deal with myself: I would run the final two miles, no walking. Then, I spotted a pacer holding a great big 5:00 sign. I dug deep, started running again, and passed him. At 24 miles, I took my final cup of water. Before long, I was at 25 miles. Just 1.2 miles to go, I thought. That's not so bad.

That last mile was the longest mile I have ever run. For the entire race, I'd been surrounded by people, but in that last mile, things were quiet. There were no spectators or volunteers anywhere near by. Only a few runners were close to me, and I could see all of them struggling. One guy passed me, then stopped to walk I don't know how many times. He finally gave up and just walked.

In that final mile, I pulled out every trick I knew to keep going. I flipped through my iPod for good songs. I chanted my running mantra to myself: I am strong. I am tough. I can do this. I am a marathoner. I focused on objects a bit ahead of me and imagined myself pulling on them, moving myself further along.

Finally, I reached a volunteer. He pointed off to the left and said, "See that red thing right there? That's the finish line. Go get it."

Yes!

As I ran towards that finish, the streets began to be lined with spectators. "Give me some love," I asked, and they'd cheer for me. The big smile was back on my face and grew even bigger when I saw Steve and Jack.

The two of them were about a quarter mile away from the finish line. Steve was holding up Jack so he could see me, and the two of them were grinning at me, yelling and cheering like crazy. It is a sight that I will never forget as long as I live.

I ran past the two of them, and the rest of the race was all me. I looked at that finish line, and kicked it in. I'm sure it's a mental thing, because for all of my running life, no matter how hard I've worked or how tired I am, I can always kick it to the finish line.

I'd imagined crossing the finish line a million times in my training. And always, the soundtrack was my power song, "All These Things That I've Done" by The Killers. That song was running through my head as I ran on:

While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
If you can hold on
If you can hold on

My eyes welled up as I crossed that line. A volunteer gave me my finisher's medal and wrapped me in a silver blanket. For the first time in four hours and 57 minutes, I had stopped moving forward. I quickly realized three things:

1. I was HUNGRY.
2. Holy sweet Yoda in the swamps of Dagobah, but my legs hurt!
3. I was a marathoner.

Crisis!

Internet!

I need your help!

I think that Paula, my beloved Garmin Forerunner 205, is bruising my wrist.

I suppose it stands to reason that if you wear a watch the size of a Buick that this kind of thing would happen. As I run, Paula apparently whacks against that little round knobby bone on my left wrist.

Anyone else have this going on? Any ideas?

My one thought is to wear a wristband under Paula, to kind of cushion my wrist. And, if I have to, I'll just wear her on my right wrist for the trisko.

Save me, Internet! Prove that you're good for more than just eBay and porn.

Whoops!

I went to my local running store at lunch today because I was out of Body Glide. I bought said Body Glide, then accidentally also purchased some Sport Beans. And tights.

Whoops!

I've Got Questions

It's Thursday, which means another Take It and Run Thursday. This week, I get the opportunity to be completely devoid of knowledge and insight. Instead, I turn the tables on my BRF's and ask for your advice.

And babies, I've got questions.

1. What kind of vitamins do you take?
I have a handful of vitamins that I take every day. A multi-vitamin, sort of as insurance. And because I'm anemic, I take iron twice a day, plus a Vitamin C supplement that aids in the absorbtion of iron. But I see other stuff in the aisle at the drug store that intrigues me. Glucosamine, anybody?

2. How do you integrate shorter races into an overall training plan?
I've got a fall marathon that I am about to start training for, and I'm following a plan that is more intense than the one I did last time around. Still, I like to do the occasional 5K, or run the Bix 7. There are a ton of races where I live, and it's a lot of fun to run them and be around the people, get the t-shirt, what have you. But weekends are also the time for my long runs. If I am running a 5K on a day that I have a 10 miler scheduled, is there a way to do both? Do I run a 5K, then run 7 miles later instead of 10? Do I run the 10 miler the next day? Or, if I am truly serious about the marathon, do I skip these shorter races and focus just on training?

3. Has anyone used the FIRST program for something other than a first marathon?
One of the problems I'm running into lately with my trisko training is that Uncle Hal has me running pretty much every day except for Fridays and Mondays - and sometimes a weekend day off. I love to run, but on nights that my husband has to work late - or that we get sweet 12th row seats to see Go Diego Go Live - I end up missing a day of training... and worrying about getting in the miles to be prepared. Running three days a week with FIRST is intriguing to me, so I'd love anyone's impressions of the plan, especially for someone not running their first marathon.

I guess that's it for now. Thanks, BRF's!

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.