Race Report: Lincoln Memorial Half Marathon

Let's get this out of the way first of all: I ran the Lincoln Memorial Half Marathon (Pikermi/Trisko/13.1) in 2:10:31, scoring a new official Personal Worst at the distance... and am very happy with how I ran.

From the beginning, I knew this race wasn't going to be a PR. My stress fracture last fall scared me, and I've been very cautious about easing my way back into training. Not only have I been devoted to the 10% rule, but I have also been careful about not upping the intensity too much. I want to run faster, but more than anything, I want to run. If it takes a while to get back into the shape that let me PR last spring, so be it.

The week prior to the race, I hit another stumbling block: the first beautiful days of spring. You'd think this would be good news, but not for me. Those first beautiful days of spring mean my allergies are at their absolute worst. Despite drugging myself within an inch of my life, I couldn't breathe, couldn't sleep, and felt dry headed and miserable for the four days before the race. It was to the point that I was blowing my nose so often, it started to chafe. (FYI: Body Glide helps with this, too.)

So, let's just say that when I toed the line, I wasn't feeling like a million bucks. I felt like about a buck fifty. Instead of having a time goal, I decided to have an effort goal. And that goal was based on my new hat. Check it out:



It's from Endorphin Warrior (not compensating me in any way for promoting them, not that I'd mind if they did!) and I love it. The message is RELENTLESS but because of the colors of the letters, it also tells you to RELENT LESS. I was determined in this race to give it everything I had and to relent less.

So, the race is in Springfield, Illinois, and pretty much everything is all about Abraham Lincoln. The race course goes past a number of Lincoln sites - the Lincoln home, the new library and museum, the old and new State Capitol buildings, and Lincoln's tomb. An actor portraying Lincoln started us off with an in-character speech, then a group dressed as Union soldiers fired their rifles to start. The course was very pretty and well marked. It got challenging at the end as the formerly flat course turned hilly. I started to get worn out, but I kept remembering my goal: RELENT LESS.

When I crossed the finish line, I knew I'd left everything I had on the course. 2:10:31 was my slowest ever time, but it was also the absolute best I could have done on that day, and that is an accomplishment I can be proud of.

To mark my accomplishment? A finisher's medal shaped like a giant penny. What better momento could you ask for?

Runner Girl - Yoga Girl Team-Up

It all started with a dare.

My friend Daina is a yoga instructor. She posted a Facebook status update enthusing about how she helped someone in one of her classes get into a downward facing dog. I loved her excitement about it, but said that no way could I do it – my body does not bend.

Daina confidently said that with her help and some hard work, I could do it… but that she could never run like I do. I responded that with my help and some hard work, she could run a 5K.

“All right,” Daina said. “You’re on.”

And with that, the Runner Girl – Yoga Girl Team-up was born.

Last night, Daina took the first step and went running with me. She lives about a mile away from me, so I ran over to her house to pick her up. Daina, dressed in shorts and a skull t-shirt, looked absolutely adorable… and nervous. The last time she’d done any running at all was in high school, when they forced us to run a mile for time – and she hated it. I said that she probably hated it because she tried to go too fast. Since we were just starting out, we didn’t need to go fast; we just needed to go. We’d run relaxed and easy, and if she needed to take a walk break, we would.

And with that, we were off! The two of us ran through her neighborhood, enjoying a beautiful night and talking about our kids. My Garmin chirped, and I gave her the good news: “Guess what, Daina? You just ran a mile.”

She could not believe it. “I did? That didn’t feel like a mile!” I assured her that it was, and that she was doing great. With a big smile on her face, she ran with me another ½ mile, back to her house. I showed her how far we’d run (1.58 miles) and how fast (19:11). She was absolutely thrilled and gave me a big hug before I took off back to my house. We made plans to get together again soon for another run.

I don’t think my feet touched the ground the whole way home. I was incredibly happy for my friend and loved seeing how proud she was – and rightly so – of her accomplishment. It was the best 1.58 miles I’ve run in a long time.

Very few people have the guts to go outside of their comfort zone and attempt something that’s really challenging. Last night, Daina did just that. Her strength and confidence inspired me and will be in my head the next time I’m struggling with a workout or race.

I’m looking forward to our next run together – and to her pushing me out of my comfort zone to do some yoga.

13.1 Miles and Semantics

Run 13.1 miles and you'll find yourself searching for the right words to describe the experience. "Half marathon" seems really inadequate; running a 13.1 mile race is an accomplishment, not half of an accomplishment. Plenty of runners have been batting around alternative names for a race of 13.1 miles. I have favored "trisko," a play on the fear of the number 13.

Last week, I was standing at the starting line of the St. Patrick's Day 5K, and I noticed the t-shirt a woman in front of me was wearing. It declared that she was a member of Team Pikermi and had this picture on it:



I was intrigued enough to hit my computer pretty much as soon as I got home to learn more. Sure enough, Team Pikermi is a group of runners who are enthusiastic about the 13.1 mile distance, but think it needs a better name. And I am not afraid to admit, the name Pikermi is much cooler than trisko.

Why?

Because Pikermi, Greece is midway between Athens and Marathon. Pikermi, as a name, has the same historic significance as Marathon does for the 26.2 mile distance. I like to think that when Phedippides hit Pikermi, he was still feeling pretty good. Maybe he had some Gu, checked his Garmin, and thought he'd be in great shape after 13.1 more miles - we've all had that feeling. I can also say with confidence that if old Phedipp had finished his run in Pikermi, not only would he not have collapsed and died at the finish line, but he would have felt just fine after a shower and a good lunch.

I challenge my fellow lovers of 13.1 miles to join Team Pikermi and help give this distance the respect it deserves.

I ran into a different semantic debate about running 13.1 miles last week, with my husband. We were getting ready for bed, and he asked, as he often does on Saturday nights, "How long are you running tomorrow?" I told him 13.1 miles.

"But... that's a half marathon!"

"Well," I explained, "My training program has me at 13, so I like to throw in that extra .1 for fun."

Steve was astonished. "You're running a half marathon tomorrow."

"No, I'm running a half marathon distance tomorrow. It's not a half marathon," I said.

"What's the difference? That there are no guys in yellow vests telling you which way to turn?"

"I guess that's part of it," I said. "I also didn't pay any money for this, don't have a bib number, no official timer, no race director, no t-shirt, no one else runnign it with me, the course hasn't been certified..."

"Whatever," Steve responded. "You're running a half marathon tomorrow."

As I turned out the light, I muttered, "Half marathon distance."

Race Report: St. Patrick's Day 5K

I ran the St. Patrick's Day 5K for the first time last year. I didn't really love the race, but I did love the fact that I got a sweet, sweet PR (23:44).

That time loomed large as I warmed up for the race. The fact of the matter is, I am not as fast as I was last year. The injury to my left shin last fall forced me to take quite a lot of time off, and I have been returning to running - and to speed work - very carefully and gradually. Last spring, I went into half marathon/trisko season chasing a PR and nailed it. My first trisko/half marathon of the 2010 season is The Abe Lincoln Memorial Half Marathon on April 4, and as much as I'd like to PR, I just don't know if I can do it. This race, I figured, would be a good way to set expectations.

The temperature was in the 40s, rainy, and a bit windy. That kind of weather yields a wide variety of clothing choices from other runners. I wore tights, a long sleeved shirt with my racing team singlet over it, and my racing team jacket. Teammate Missy wore the same thing, without the jacket, and Penny sported shorts. As always, the guys wore less - Frank just did the singlet and shorts, and I was cold just looking at him. Of course, the people who ran the race dressed as leprechauns probably would have done so regardless. In retrospect, I think Missy's outfit was perfect. By the time I finished the race, I was a bit hot, but not so hot that I would have wanted bare arms or legs.

We took off, and as I approached the first mile, I felt totally worn out. When I heard my split time, I knew why: 7:45. Way too fast! I made an effort to relax and slow down in the second mile, which I did, big time, at 8:48. By the third mile, I felt like I was crawling, though apparently I wasn't - 8:35. I sped up a bit for that last .1 and finished in 26:20. That's a totally respectable race time... if you don't know how much faster I ran it the year before.

I am really trying to keep things in perspective. When I finish my half marathon/trisko in a few weeks, the most important thing is for me to cross the finish line knowing I have done the best I possibly could on that day. Last spring, that was 1:56:51. This year, I am hoping for 2:05. It won't be my best ever, but it can be my best of the day.

Victory Pose

In my last post, I shared a picture of myself crossing the finish line at the Chili Chase. In it, I am all business, which is exactly what my mental state was at that moment. I had just raced up a pretty steep hill to pass several other runners and was feeling the effects of the effort. I'm sure there was a smile on my face a second after that picture was taken, but in that moment, all I wanted was to get my foot on that mat.

My friend Tim, a recent convert to running, said that he always thinks about striking a pose as he crosses the finish line. He's partial to the Rocky:

and wonders, as a newbie runner, if it's appropriate. I told him that it's not only appropriate, but encouraged, but the more I think about it, there are some etiquette standards for victory poses when crossing the finish line. When Tim finished his first half marathon, then hell yes, he should rock the Rocky, but when I put in a solid effort at that four mile race, it would have been a tad much.

When can runners pull a victory pose like the Rocky, or its two armed variant? It's time to write the unwritten rules:

DO: Any time you finish a race of 13.1 miles or greater. You just accomplished something that most people will never do. I don't care how long it took you to finish that marathon; if you can get your arms over your head, do. Feel the triumph!

DON'T: When finishing an easy 3 mile training run around your neighborhood.

DO: After you set a hard-won PR. If you've been working your butt off to break 30 minutes (or 21 or 15 or 45 or whatever) in a 5K, and you just did it? Celebrate!

DON'T: If you took a walk break 20 meters ago and then just broke into a sprint to cross the finish line? People noticed it and we're not impressed.

DO: Just finished your first ever race? Welcome to the fraternity, my friend. Hoist your arms!

DON'T: If you just barely squeaked past another runner, then good job kicking it in, but throwing a Rocky seems like rubbing it in.

What about you? When do you think you can throw a victory pose?

Race Report: Chili Chase

One sure way to kick those winter running doldrums is to sign up for a race. I ran the Chili Chase two years ago and had a great time, so I decided to run it again. And as an added bonus, this was my first race as a member of the Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team! I felt very proud to put on my uniform and was determined to do my team proud.

I arrived early to help out with registration. I helped give out the technical socks that the race director offered in lieu of t-shirts. It's always great to have another pair of good running socks, plus these had a very cool bright green band on them with a little chili pepper. As an extra, we also had running gloves to give out. People loved the gloves, a simple lightweight cotton that are perfect on a day when it's cold, but not too cold. Volunteering was a lot of fun. I got to hang out with a cool group of people, plus I was able to say hello to lots of my fellow runners.

Fifteen minutes before race time, I said goodbye to the other volunteers working the table and went outside to warm up. The temperature was cold, in the 20s, but I was careful not to over dress for it, wearing tights, wind pants, a long-sleeved technical t with my team singlet over it, and my team jacket. For the first time, I pinned my race number to my leg, rather than to my shirt, in case I needed to unzip my jacket. It snowed later in the day, but luckily there were no weather obstacles on the course, save for one tiny patch of packed snow - with a volunteer whose job it was to tell everyone to be careful.

All the runners gathered at the starting line, which went down a long medium-steep hill. The race director warned us that what goes down must go up - in other words, enjoy this downhill, because you'll be running up it to the finish line.

I wasn't sure how the race was going to go. I have struggled to get in quality speed work this winter. The tracks aren't clear, and it's hard to do speed consistently on the road because the combination of ice, packed snow, loose snow, and slushy mess makes footing unpredictable. I am training for a half marathon in April, and I know I'll have the stamina, but I don't know how fast I'll go. So, I decided to relax, work hard on the hills, and see what happened. I put Paula Garmin on under my jacket so I could look if I wanted to, but not be distracted by my pace.

We took off, and it was a great time. There was an out and back portion of the course, so my fellow runners, friends, and team members and I cheered for each other as we went by.

In the last mile, things started to get interesting. I could see several runners ahead of me who were struggling with the hills. I have been training on hills all winter, but even without that advantage, I always try to pass people on hills whenever possible. It's a psychological thing; I can see other people are having trouble, and I tell myself (whether it's true or not) that I am strong on hills and can beat people.

I picked off three runners who were slowing down, then set my sights on more and more of them. I probably passed five or six runners in the last mile. In the end, I crossed the line with a time I was very happy with: 35:32.

The post-race party for the Chili Chase is always fun. There's great food - bbq sandwiches, chili, and beer. I had a bite to eat and hung out with friends. Out of curiosity, I checked the results to see where I placed. To my surprise, my effort was good for 34th place... super cool because the race director doesn't do age group awards for this race, but rather gives out awards for the overall top 35! I just made it. Better still, instead of a trophy, I got a bright green travel coffee mug with a chili pepper on it.

It was a great way to spend a Sunday and has me feeling good about the year of racing ahead.

Doldrums

I held out for as long as I could, but winter doldrums have offically set in.

There is much to love about running in the winter. Snow becomes more than just a cold wet inconvenience that I have to shovel; it's also beautiful, sparkly, and makes an appealing crunching noise when I run through it. Running makes me appreciate snow. And the cold doesn't bother me. Put on the right gear and give yourself ten minutes and you're fine. Best of all is the Badass Factor. No matter how short or slow your run is, the mere fact that you're out there while everybody else is inside makes you look totally hardcore.

Still, it's just seemed like so much effort lately. It's pitch dark when I leave the office and not getting any lighter by the time I've had dinner and put Jack to bed. By then the idea of layering up, going outside, and having what will be a slow run because of the snow is really unappealing.

I've got a half marathon trisko scheduled for April, so I'm still getting the miles in, but it's not much fun. I am waiting for the freedom of wearing just one pair of pants to go out, of trading my winter hat for a running cap, and of seeing just a little light in the evenings.

Magnificent Seven

Sunday's long run was scheduled to be seven miles. It was easy to choose a route - I drove to Davenport and ran on the Bix course. Hey, if I lived in Boston and needed to run a 26.2 training run (admittedly unlikely), I know where I'd run then, too.

The weather had warmed up to the low 30s, which felt lovely and warm, and it was raining, which during the winter just feels like a refreshing change of pace. The course, as always, was hilly and challenging, but I was really in the mood to tackle something like that. I even saw a pair of fellow runners who seemed to be doing the very same thing. We waved enthusiastically at each other from across the street.

When the run was over, I felt great... except for one thing. I did a road test of a new sports bra and tried it with no Body Glide. Big mistake. A spot on my chest was completely chafed. The feeling when I stepped into the shower and the water hit me was absolute agony. Running seven miles in the rain over steep hills? No big deal. Tiny spot on my chest with no Body Glide? Totally laid me out.

Five to Survive

On Saturday, Steve and I accomplished a feat that many of my peers described as brave: we hosted a birthday party for Jack at our house.

Honestly, it didn't seem that big of a deal to me. We planned exactly the kind of party that I remember from when I was a kid. Birthday parties were not outings to Chuck E. Cheese or the Family Museum. They were games, presents, and birthday cake at someone's house.

Steve and I planned the party carefully. We created a schedule, in ten minute increments, of all of the games and activities. Jack helped us clear all of his toys out of the family room and into the basement. Experience has shown me that otherwise, the other kids will descend upon our house and start dumping bins of action figures onto the floor, making both Jack - and me - cranky. And creating automatic fun, Jack decided it would be a costume party.

And the party was only scheduled for two hours; in running terms, that's just a half marathon. Not so much to endure!

The kids arrived and proceeded to run around the house like maniacs, which was exactly what was on the schedule. Then, we played games. First up was hot potato, in which we passed around a stuffed Spider-Man, with an emphasis on silliness - act like bunnies while passing Spidey, for example. Then, we had the kids toss balls into a laundry basket. After that, I switched to a quiet activity and the kids decorated masks with stick-on jewels. The kids loved the masks and worked on them for quite a while.

When all of them were finished, Jack led everyone in a costume parade. I gave away prizes for all of the costumes - also known as treat bags. Jack decided way back in November that his party would be a costume one, so we were able to pack the treat bags accordingly, with two different kinds of masks that I bought for a song in a post-Halloween clearance sale at Michaels, along with the standard noise maker, candy, and dinosaur pencil. They went over huge.

Then, it was time for birthday cake and presents. Hooray, party successful... except that we still had an entire hour to kill.

Steve and I brainstormed quickly for more games to keep the kids occupied. Luckily, the two of us had plenty of silliness left. We played Simon Says, then Musical Pillows. Musical Pillows was a huge hit last year; pillows instead of chairs because they're easier to manipulate. And again, the focus wasn't so much on being out or not as it was on having the kids circle the pillows pretending to be cats, or ducks, or ballerinas. And finally, did you know that kids still love to play Duck, Duck, Goose? Well, thank goodness, they do.

Once the kids took off, all three of us crashed. Jack was thrilled with how everything went.

Badass 800s

Bart Yasso, step aside: I have invented a new speed workout.

Bart invented the Yasso 800, in which a runner does a series of 800 meter track repeats which miraculously predict their marathon finishing time. Nice.

But the workout I've invented is much tougher: Badass 800s.

Yesterday (the day which running history will note as the dawn of this new test of mettle), I drove to a nearby park and did a short warmup. Then, I went to the top of a long hill, set Paula Garmin, and had at it.

A Badass 800 consists of running down that steep hill, around a pond (the icy patches are optional to the workout), then finishing by running up that same steep hill, a total of 800 meters.

Badass 800s help a runner build fast twitch muscles, practice running downhill without killing your quads or falling flat on your face, navigate an undulating path that's far from track-flat, then handle a steep uphill when you're fatigued.

In short, they make you totally badass.

Yesterday, I did 4 Badass 800 repeats and went home feeling pretty much invincible. As I look ahead to the 2010 racing season, I am going to conquer every hill that I see.

Making the team

One of my goals for 2009 was to get more involved in my local running community. Recently, I got some news that proves that I accomplished that mission.

In 2008, I applied for the Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team. I knew it was a long shot; I was new to the club and didn't really know anybody yet. But I loved the idea so I figured it was worth a try and sent in my application, along with an impassioned essay.

No such luck. In fact, I found out I didn't make the team on the very same day that I lost my job. Bummer, right?

This year, I applied again. I was hoping that the time I'd spend attending club events, getting to know my fellow runners, training with the club, and volunteering at a couple of races would make the difference. And, if not, I'd try again for the 2011 team - eventually, they'd have to cave and let me in.

It looks like they caved: I made the team!

We had our first meeting yesterday, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I was honored to be part of such a fantastic group of runners. The Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team is made up of runners of all age groups and abilities. They are people who I've watched get trophies at races, but also people who I've seen volunteering time and time again, supporting our fellow runners any way we can. Our team's goals are goals that are important to me as well - to promote the sport of running.

As a member of the team, I am going to enjoy some amazing benefits. I was issued a uniform, which I will wear every time I race: a singlet, shorts (which I may replace with a skirt), a sports bra, warm-up pants, a windbreaker, and a technical t-shirt to wear either when volunteering or when it's too chilly for the singlet. Best of all, it's my favorite color, red! I will also get a 20% discount at Running Wild, our fabulous local running store, and free or reduced entry to several local races. One of those local races is the Bix 7, and not only that, but our team gets elite entry. As in, "Hey, there, Meb and Joanie! Good morning, and I hope you enjoy kicking my ass in this race."

Our team does, of course, have to earn our keep. We are required to volunteer at at least six events a year. In particular, if we are running in a race for a free or reduced entry, the race director asks that we volunteer either before or after the race. I am more than happy to pitch in. Last year, I volunteered for two races, and I've been planning to do more. This sport has given a lot to me, and I want to make sure I give back as well.

I left the meeting feeling inspired, both to run my best and to promote my sport to everyone. I am proud of this accomplishment and everything that it represents.

Race Report: Frostbite Footrace 8K

Where we last left off, I was taking an unplanned rest day thanks to an achy knee, but still determined to run the 8K Frostbite Footrace to see how it felt.

I took some Advil and headed for the race, hoping for the best. The place was buzzing with runner friends of mine, including Sara and Jen, who I hadn't seen in months. I think everyone was excited about the first local race of the year - and the fact that the weather was so nice. Several people enthused about how warm it was, and that the weather should not be a factor at all in anyone's performance.

For those of you who don't live in the midwest, the temperature was about 20 degrees. Only a cold weather runner could look at a day like that and be happy to be running outside.

I lined up with Sara and Jen. "Are you ready for this?" they asked. I said that honestly, I probably wasn't. Because of my knee problems, I planned to run a relaxed race and see how I felt. I figured chances were pretty good that I'd end up having to take off another several days. I put my Garmin in my pocket so that I wouldn't be distracted by my pace, which I figured wout be slow.

And, bang! We were off! Jen, Sara, and I leapfrogged back and forth for the first 2 and a half miles - the two of them running together and me by myself (they're sisters and tend to stick together). The two of them stopped for water, and as I passed them, Jen said, "See, Sara? That's what you get for stopping. Now she's ahead of us."

Not for long, though, and the two of them passed me again.

I'll be honest: a huge part of me wanted to beat them. No matter what, it's hard to shut down that competitive spirit. But an even bigger part of me wanted my knee to not be hurt. The months I took off for my injured shin really bummed me out. So, I relaxed and tried my best to run my own race.

At about the halfway point, Jen pulled ahead of Sara and I caught up to her. Sara said she was okay and told me to go after Jen. I did my best, but it wasn't meant to be this time around. Sara was close behind me for quite a while, so I warned her about some of the big hills.

After a while, she was too far behind me... and Jen was too far in front of me. I was on my own. The race ends with a climb up a long, not too steep hill. I pushed it hard to the top, remembering how windy that same climb was last year.

Finally, I kicked it past another runner and into the chute. My finishing time astonished me - just shy of 45 minutes! That was far faster than I'd thought I was going; I guess keeping my Garmin in my pocket paid off, because otherwise, I might have slowed down.

Best of all? My knee is totally fine. On to the next run!

Slip sliding away

Bad news: my knee hurts.

I have been devoted to the 10% rule, so I don't think it's overuse. In fact, it seems pretty clear that running on the uneven and slippery terrain we have outside was the cause. Somehow, I must have slid too much and put too much strain on my knee.

Regardless, I'm taking an unplanned day off today. I have an 8K to run on Saturday, and we'll see how it goes.

Think positive for me!

Frozen

Ellen: Clark, Audrey's frozen from the waist down.
Clark: That's all part of the experience, honey.

Last night, the temperature was in the 20s, and compared to where it's been for the past few weeks, that felt positively balmy. So, when I went out for my 4 mile tempo run, I put on fewer layers than usual - a long sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, and windbreaker, with a pair of tights rather than my fleece pants.

The terrain outside is still pretty uneven. Moving from nicely shoveled sidewalks to loose snow to packed snow to ice patches is a challenge (and tweaked my right knee a little bit). I made an effort not to look at my pace on Paula Garmin, but just to go for that all-important "comfortably hard" feeling. It felt good to open up, and between the increased effort and the music of Lady Gaga on my iPod, my run was over before I knew it.

It was pretty easy to ignore the tingling feeling in my legs.

I got inside, and without those distractions, that tingling feeling demanded a lot more attention. I got undressed to get in the shower and discovered that my legs, from my waist to my knees was bright red (I guess my Recovery Socks kept my calves warmer). Uh-oh.

I quickly got in the shower, careful not to keep the temperature too warm for fear it'd warm me up too fast. Then I put on warm jammies and a robe, covered my lower half with a blanket, and drank a lovely glass of lukewarm water. One bowl of hot soup later, and I seemed to be okay.

The moral of the story is, just because it feels warmer than usual, if that "usual" is 20 below, doesn't mean it's suddenly warm outside.

Recovery

Running conditions update: still ridiculously cold. Trying to navigate between patches of ice, packed snow, and powder snow is no picnic. This winter, I've had just a handful of runs that made me feel exhilarated and amazing when I finished. More of them have been a slog. I'm proud to have gone out in the cold and done something challenging, but the running itself was not the fun part.

In cases like that, the best part of my cold weather run is being done. My recovery routine can actually create a runner's high in a way that the run itself can't always do.

The very first thing I do when I get home is take off my sweaty clothes. I have a nice warm sweatshirt right at the back door, ready to go. Time is of the essence - if I wait too long, my body temperature drops too rapidly and I spend the next couple of hours shivering.

Then, while I do some gentle stretching, I heat up a mug of hot chocolate. If chocolate milk is an ideal recovery drink, surely it has the same properties when you heat it up, right? Let's just call the marshmallows extra carbs.

The hot chocolate tastes better than any hot chocolate I've ever had, and the warm, dry shirt becomes the most comfortable thing that I own. It probably goes without saying that the hot shower I enjoy afterward is pure bliss.

But the best thing of all is the way I feel for the rest of the day. I walk around knowing that I did something challenging, something that most people would never consider doing. Even if it wasn't fun and easy, I did it.

What about you? How do you recover?

10 for 2010

Yes, everybody's doing it, so let's all join hands, jump off this bridge together, and ponder our goals for 2010.

1. Run at least two half marathons in the spring and two in the fall. Last year, I did three in the spring and one in the fall. 13.1 is my favorite distance to race, and I'm going to continue to devote myself to it in 2010.

2. Set a PR in the half marathon. I don't care if it's one second; I want a new PR.

3. Set a PR in the 5K. I'm going to keep running this distance and want to keep shedding seconds as I go.

4. Run at least three new races. Yes, I said this last year and ran considerably more than three new races, but I'm keeping the number at 3 figuring that eventually I'll run out of new local races to tackle!

5. Strength training and core training at least twice a week. I am such a slacker about this, and for no good reason. It really doesn't take long, and I have everything I need at home to keep up a minimal routine.

6. Drink more water. Not so much while I'm running as during my day to day life. I really need to work on this one, just to be healthier overall.

7. Eat like an athlete. That doesn't mean that every single thing I eat will be healthy, but most of what I eat will be, and I want to think about the effects food has on my body and determine what makes the best fuel. And if I do that, I can eat the occasional homemade cookie with no guilt.

8. Incorporate more hills into training. When I go out for a run, I tend to keep it flat. No more. I'm going to come up with some standard 3 and 4 mile loops that include hills at different points in the route. I know that this will make me stronger.

9. Remember to actually wear my Road ID when I go out. In 2009, I was probably at about 75%, and that's not good enough.

10. Keep a training log. I'm devising my own training routine this spring based on FIRST and my race goals, very carefully following the 10% rule. The log will add even more structure and accountability to what I'm doing.

It's going to be a great year. What about you, Internet? What are you doing in 2010?

Christmas at Stately Wasser Manor

'nuff said.

Seven

Seven. It's not the number of miles I ran yesterday, or even the number of dwarfs in the movie I watched with Jack. Instead, it was the high temperature for the day, a day when I needed to go for a run.

Under those circumstances, many runners would do something foolish, namely run on a treadmill.

Pfft.

Instead, I layered up: red knee-high Oxysox, fleece pants, long-sleeved t-shirt with thumb holes, red fleece vest (which I forgot that I had on and surprised me when I got changed later), red windbreaker, black vest (see, forgot I had the red one on), hat, buff, thin running gloves, Steve's wooly glove/mitten hybrid "glittens."

And you know, after maybe 3/4 of a mile, I didn't feel cold any more. The main evidence of the cold was the frost that formed on my hat... and the fact that my watery eyes produced an ice clump in my eyelashes.

On a beautiful spring day, the streets are crowded with runners. Yesterday, I didn't see a single fellow runner out. I can only hope a few of my brethern spotted me and decided to go out later.

When the weather is as cold as it is here on the ice planet Hoth, you hear a lot of people griping about it. I believe those people should go outside. If you only experience winter through your window or your car, yes, it sucks. But if you're outside, you get an invigorating experience that gets your blood pumping. And the post-run hot chocolate is the most delicious thing there is.

Running away from home

As I look back on my year of running, some of my fondest memories were of running away from home. No, not fleeing the confines of Stately Wasser Manor, but rather enjoying a nice run while traveling for work.

When I'm traveling for work, I am completely away from my normal life. When I get up in the morning, I don't have a cup of coffee with Steve, make Jack his morning strawberry milk, and get him ready for school. Instead, I wake up and pretty much get to work, then do the same all day, then at night until I decide to get to sleep.

I forget that other people are not existing out of time like I am. I'll sit at the desk, impatiently wondering why no one has answered my emails, only to remember that it's only 8:00, most people have not been working for the past hour and a half, and that they are, in fact, trying to get ready for work.

I have learned that when I'm away from home, I always need to bring my running shoes and I always need to go for a run.

Those early morning jaunts have been terrific adventures. I wandered through a neighborhood in Charlotte, lined by honeysuckle bushes, and two little girls waiting for the school bus ran with me for a little while. I found trails around beautiful frozen lakes outside Minneapolis. In San Antonio, I zipped along the cobblestone paths of River Walk and watched the sun rise at the Alamo. I spent another morning with Lake Michigan to one side, the skyline of Chicago looming large in front of me. My favorite travel run was in Seattle, where I ran through memories of the summer I lived there with Steve, the summer we fell in love.

Running while on the road connects me with the city where I'm staying in a way that eating breakfast at the hotel and going to and from whatever project I'm working on does not. More importantly, it keeps me connected to who I am. When I'm away from home, I have to keep running.

The Fab Four

Back when Jack was just two years old, we went to a birthday party for a little boy who was turning four. This other little boy was quiet and solemn, a huge contrast to the zany little bundle of energy that was my kid. I watched the other boy calmly unwrap his birthday gifts and eat a modest amount of cake and dreaded the prospect of Jack turning four. My cute, funny, entertaining little guy wouldn’t be so cute anymore.

This year has proven to me that I was wrong. That other kid was just weird. Jack’s fourth year has been fantastic.

Our family went through a lot of changes this year. I lost my job in January, which enabled us to spend a lot of time together, in the Mommy-Jack Academy. We went to dance classes and acted silly, we put on plays with his tigers, baked cookies, and had a great time. When I went back to work, he and I missed our time together, but it felt like things were a bit more back to normal… except that they weren’t, because all of a sudden, I had a job that required me to travel pretty frequently. And at around the same time, Steve also had to do more travel for his job. Jack has adapted really well. We keep a calendar in his room and mark when Mommy or Daddy is coming home. Sometimes he gets a present after one of us has been on a trip, but more often, we go out for a special breakfast to spend more time together.

Jack absolutely loves his preschool, especially the main teacher Miss Toya. Miss Toya has helped Jack improve his writing, so he will surprise me by pulling out a crayon and writing WASSER on a piece of paper. She teaches the kids to say “yes” instead of “yeah,” and it sounds so much nicer that Steve and I have adopted the same habit. The kids in Jack’s class put on a circus this spring at which Jack was an acrobat. She even showed up at one of his soccer games.

Jack has an incredible curiosity about words and language. When we go to the library, he loads up the bag with all kinds of reading material – picture books, non-fiction materials about animals, and now chapter books. His favorites are the Magic Treehouse series, about a boy named Jack who travels through time. Jack will sit and listen to me read for as long as I’m willing. He has also started noticing words everywhere and will ask, “What does ‘O-P-E-N’ spell?”

We have done some fun traveling together as a family this year. In June, we took a weekend trip to Chicago, Jack’s first big city. He was fascinated by the tall buildings, the pigeons, the noise of the El track, and the fact that he was allowed to go in a taxi without his car seat. Our big vacation was to the Wisconsin Dells and the Great Wolf Lodge. Jack had a blast playing in the many swimming pools and going down water slides.

The little guy has had a few dark moments. He got in the most trouble of his entire life when, mad at me, he used his scissors to cut a small hole in the back of one of our living room chairs. And when I tell him to apologize for things – “you don’t have to mean it, you just have to say it” – he steadfastly refuses.

At the same time, he’s sweet and affectionate. He was eager to help his three-year-old cousin play hide and seek with the big kids at Thanksgiving. Jack gives lots of love to Roary and his fleet of “stuffed guys,” telling them, “It’s okay, Sweetie,” if they are sad. And when I started to cry during the movie Up Jack reached over and held my hand.

He also loves to make people laugh. He will tell jokes over and over again, figuring that the knock-knock joke about the interrupting cow will only be funnier the 900th time you hear it. He is even a fan of physical comedy, pretending to walk into walls, then laughing like a loon.

Year Four has been wonderful. Jack does or says something every single day that makes me proud of him. When I look ahead to Jack’s fifth year, I have no fear. My little guy will still be my clever, funny, sunny little guy.

Happy birthday, Jack!