Race Report: Quad Cities Half Marathon

So, during the course of my training for the Quad Cities Marathon's half marathon trisko, there was a little something I neglected to mention: a nagging pain in my left shin.

Why did this never come up? Well, for one thing, it wasn't that bad. It would be sore for a while after a run, but not too bad and it never slowed me down. But the little bugger persisted. For months. And if I actually said out loud that I had an injury that wasn't healing, then people might suggest something sensible, like that I not go out and race for 13.1 miles. And that was a conversation I was not interested in having.

Still, between that little nagging injury and the fact that my training has not been as focused this season (and that is another post altogether), I knew that this race would not be my best work. That's okay, though - they can't all be PRs, and I was very excited to run on a beautiful course, support my fellow club members, and have a good time.

I met my running club at the hideous hour of 6:30. We all wore our neon yellow training t-shirts and posed for a very bright group photo. Everyone was excited, especially the firs time marathoners. I was so glad that I decided to train with the group instead of on my own. The sense of camaraderie was great. The weather was a bit chilly, probably in the 50s, so I waited until the absolute last second to, as they say in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, pop off the shirt.

I think that the fact that I ran the 26.2 version of this race last year made me really appreciate the trisko course. It had all of the good - running over bridges across the Mississippi, stunning views of the river, friendly spectators, and a conveniently timed hot air balloon festival - and none of the tedium of spending far too long of a stretch running on Arsenal Island.

A half marathon, while more than half as easy as a full marathon, is still not easy. As I hit miles 10 and 11, I was feeling tired. I kept on pushing forward, though, knowing how close I was. I was definitely not on track for a PR (thanks in part to a bathroom break I took at mile 2, figuring that would help me enjoy the race more, especially without any records in the offing), but I still wanted to finish respectfully.

At mile 12, huge spasms shot up and down my left leg. They hurt so much that I actually said, "Ow!" out loud. But no matter, I kept on running listened to Steve, Jack, and my mom cheer me in, and happily crossed the finish line with a totally decent time of 2:05:32.

As soon as I did, that nagging injury, which was pretty quiet through the entire race, started screaming at me. I stayed on my feet and limped through the after party, figuring that would be better for me than sitting down. I enjoyed my first post-race massage, which was heavenly.

The bad news, Internet, is that my shin is in very bad shape. Standing or walking on it is incredibly painful, and walking up and down the stairs is an exercise in toughness. When I got to the post-race party my club had, I groaned when I saw I'd have to go up stairs to join everybody. Russ, my coach, immediately saw me limping and wanted to know what happened. He was glad to hear my plans to see my doctor and rest, though still concerned about me. The party was great. Everyone was in a celebratory mood. And Paul, the president of our club, had spent the entire day completing a slide show, set to music, that documented our training. It was amazing to see how long we'd all be running together and how hard we had all worked. It ended with shots of each and every one of us crossing the finish line.

I limped my way through work and limped my way to the doctor's office today. My doctor thinks that I have some kind of soft tissue damage and doesn't think that the bone is injured. I am going to an orthopedist on Thursday who will have a better assesment of what's wrong, and I will go on from there.

One of my co-workers saw me dragging my semi-useless leg around today and asked if I hurt myself, "In a one-legged ass-kicking contest." I like to think that's exactly what happened. I ran a great race despite what seems to be a bad injury, and I kicked ass.

Last one!

Sunday marked my last long run before next week's half marathon trisko. The entire group - both those training for the marathon and for the trisko - ran eight miles. Russ, our coach, told us to run them easy, have fun, and try to run with somebody new.

That sounded like a good idea, so I kept my iPod in my pocket and found a couple of runners to hang out with for eight miles. I'm glad I did. Both women were training for their first marathon, and it was fun to hear what they were thinking about and how excited they were about their first race.

After the run, we had a potluck picnic. I read somewhere that runners have no guilt at the buffet table, and our training group definitely proved that. One guy loaded up his plate with both fried chicken and doughnuts. John, another of our coaches, had a cinnamon roll in one hand, and a beer in the other - a fine Sunday morning breakfast. My own breakfast included a ham sandwich, tuna noodle casserole (surprisingly delicious after an 8 mile run and before 9:00 in the morning), lots of fruit, and cake.

So now, with that last run behind me, I am feeling excited. I have my race day outfit ready to go (featuring a new pair of Wright Socks), have looked at the course map, and am excited to do some shopping at the expo. Let's get this party started.

Doping

My half marathon trisko is a little over a week away. Since I'm husband-free this week and can't go out for a running, I'm grabbing inspiration elsewhere.

To kick things off, I am re-reading Once a Runner. Sure, the main character's race is 12.1 miles shorter than mine, but any runner can read this book and relate to what he's going through. It makes me want to throw on my running shoes, get out there, and WORK.

Then, I just finished watching my DVD of Spirit of the Marathon. I seriously think I should watch this movie before every single race that I run. I love that it shows the hard work and determination of the runners not just on race day, but during their training. It also makes me proud to see that the elite runners have many of the same challenges that the ordinary runners do.

Between Spirit of the Marathon and Once a Runner, I am so completely pumped to get out there and race that it may count as doping.

6.2 miles of friends

This week's Take It and Run Thursday asks a fun question.

You get to run the last six miles of your next marathon with 6 different people. They can be dead or alive; famous or not famous. Who are these people and why did you pick them? Furthermore, why did you pick them for the specific mile you did? Remember, you get an extra .2 miles with runner #6.

Fun, right?

Mile 21: Ryan Reynolds. I think we are all aware of the simple fact that any good looking guy becomes exponentially better looking when you find out he's a runner. Ryan Reynolds is funny, seems to put a reasonabl eamount of effort into his core fitness, and has run a marathon before. Ryan and I would hang out in mile 21, and I'd be sympathetic to the fact that he doesn't get to run with his wife, Scarlett Johansson. That's got to be a bummer for him, and hopefully Scarlett wouldn't be too jealous of the time we were spending together. Poor girl probably has trouble running because of her enormous rack, a problem I do not share. I'd bid Ryan farewell, then it'd be time for

Mile 22: I would spend this mile hanging out with Non-Runner Nancy. In case you live under a rock, NRN recently faced an injury and surgery that she's recovering from nicely... but learned that running and her body don't mix. Well, through the magic of Take It and Run Thursday, Nancy can, in fact, run again. She would hand me her red lipstick, and the two o fus would laugh through that 22nd mile. Nancy would help me remember that, even in the hardest parts of any race, I should be grateful about the fact that I can run at all.

Mile 23: I'd spend the 23rd mile of the race with two of my favorite people in the world - my brother Andy and my sister Jenny. The three of us would spend so much time laughing and telling stories about each other that the miel would be over before I knew it... something that would definitely be appreciated so far into a marathon.

Mile 24: Mile 24 would mean time for a different kind of inspiration. Sharing this mile with me would be a group of women who would have to slow down one whole hell of a lot to hang out with me: Paula Radcliffe, Kara Goucher, Deena Kastor, Catherine "The Great" Ndereba, Joan Benoit-Samuelson, and Katherine Switzer. Their strength would carry me through that mile.

Mile 25: I would love to spend the 25th mile with the man who really turned me into a runner: my high school cross country coach, Jeff Quick. Coach Quick taught me a lot about running - how to do speedwork, how to run hills, the same stretching routines that I use today. He also taught me toughness, tenacity, and to trust my own instincts. I'd love to run with Quick to show him how those lessons have stuck with me.

Mile 26-26.2: The final 1.2 miles could only be spent with my guys, Steve and Jack. The fact of the matter is, I couldn't run at all if it weren't for the love and support that the two of them show me. Neither of them ever complains when I leave the house to go running. Steve always makes sure I get enough to eat after a long run, Jack always talks about how he wants to be a runner "like Mommy," and the two of them do a million other things every single day that help me get on my shoes and be my best. Steve and Jack would run that last 1.2 with me because the two of them are with me every step of the way. Every mile I run, not just in a marathon, but every inch of my training, I run with the two of them in my heart.

Taper Dreams

Let's get this out of the way: it's been almost a month since my last post. In that time, I've been busying myself with a family vacation, a trip to the circus with Jack, beating Steve at Rummikub, working like a maniac, and... the occasional run.

My half marathon trisko is just a few weeks away. I've completed some really solid long runs, so I'm confident that I'll be able to finish the race in a respectable time. I'm also confident that this will not be my finest work ever.

I was chatting with Tom from Runners' Lounge recently. He said that to have a really successful race, everything has to come together: running, work, family - everything. It's a beautiful thing when it happens, but it's also rare. For me, for this race, the stars have not aligned. I think the biggest problem is that my shorter runs have lacked the intensity I've put into my long runs, so my speed work has not been very strong.

Why is this? Well, I've thought about it so much that it's a post in and of itself, so I'll shelf that one for later. Now I am truly excelling at tapering. In fact, I am over-achieving by not running at all. Steve is out of town this week, so I've been spending lots of time hanging out with Jack. I'll grab a 5 miler on Saturday, then run 8 with my training group on Sunday. Then, just a few easy runs before the race, and that's it.

Maybe it's been this lack of running that caused me to have a really crazy nightmare last night.

It was the day of the race, and I decided it would be a good idea to go to the dentist, "just really quick, before the race." Yes, in my dream, the dentist's office was open at 6:00 in the morning on a Sunday. Just go with it. The dentist had just finished telling me that I was going to need to get braces again (braces are a recurring theme in Betsy anxiety dreams)when I realized I had completely forgotten my running clothes at home.

I had to call my mom and ask her to go to my house to get them for me. I tried my best to walk her through the exact details of what I needed, because if you're running 13.1 miles, any old thing will not do. She kept getting distracted and couldn't find what I needed. My mom was ignoring my requests for the Wright Socks SLX or at least the DLX in favor of talking about how cute and little Jack's socks are when, mercifully, the alarm went off.

Runner II: Electric Boogaloo

I set off for a 3 mile neighborhood run today to shake off the cobwebs of a day of hanging out with a sick little boy (croup + strep = no fun) and to test out my latest pair of WrightSocks, this time the Runner II.

I was overcome with a strong feeling of "Meh" about the whole thing. Lately, I've been pretty solidly rocking out my long runs, or at least getting through them in heroic efforts. But I am having trouble mustering up much enthusiasm for my shorter runs during the week. It is really not a good thing, you guys, because I can't run a great half marathon just based on great long runs.

Today, I attempted to make my neighborhood 3 miler a little more exciting by Running Like Jack. Running like Jack means occasionally tearing off at full tilt. And it means that if I see a puddle, I am going to blaze through it and splash as much as possible.

Running Like Jack made that 3 mile run more memorable and helped me muster up more enthusiasm for something that has gotten mundane. I am also happy to report that the Runner II held up like a champ. Even soaking wet, I had no blisters, chafing, or discomfort.

Not exactly what I had in mind

I planned very carefully for today's 12 mile long run. And my run did not go remotely as planned.

The people in my training group who are preparing for the full marathon were doing their first 20 miler of the season, whereas we trisko runners were doing a mere 12. We got an email from one of the coaches advising us that it was going to be a hot today, so we should plan on hydrating carefully. Plus, to avoid some of the heat, we'd start at 6:15 rather than 7:00.

However, this weekend, Steve was away at a fraternity reunion in a cabin in remote Kentucky. How was I going to get away for a run? I obviously can't leave him alone, and it seemed like a lot to ask of my mom to come to Stately Wasser Manor at the crack of dawn. Then, I got a brainstorm - Jack and I would spend the night at my mom's house. I'd get up, go running, then the Cub and I would have breakfast with my mom and Doug. A huge bonus in this plan is that my mom can make the hell out of some blueberry pancakes.

I didn't sleep well, due to a combination of an unfamiliar bed, pillows other than my own, and sharing a bed with Jack. And then... my alarm didn't go off. I woke up an hour later than I should have.

A huge part of me wanted to just stay in bed and decide it wasn't meant to be. But I thought about how supportive my family was being, and that was enough to get me up and in my running shoes (and Wright Socks DLXes). I wasn't sure how to do a 12 miler from outside my usual base of operations, so I decided to break it into two 6 mile runs, stopping at the house in between for water breaks.

The weather was brutally hot and humid. In no time, I was completely soaked. And it was one of those days when nothing on my iPod was quite working for me. I kept hopping back and forth between podcasts and music. My heart definitely wasn't in it, and the miles, to put it mildly, did not fly by.

I've often heard that, in a marathon, you run the first 10 miles with your head, the next 10 with your legs, and the last 6.2 with your heart. I ran this entire 12 miler with my guts, just toughing it out because I knew that even if I didn't want to, I could do it.

When the run was over, I'd like to say that I felt triumphant, but I really just felt tired. Too tired, tragically, to even eat the blueberry pancakes.

The run was not exactly what I had in mind. But you know what was 100% awesome? The WrightSocks DLX. They were cushy and comfy, with that bit of snuggness at the arch that I like. Despite my profuse amounts of sweat (sexy), I had no problems at all with sweaty feet. Better still, I didn't have a single blister.

My Socksual Experience

Friends, the Wright Socks Challenge is on!

Sock #1: The Cool Mesh. I wore this little friends on a 3 mile run on a business trip in San Antonio. I don't know if you all were aware of this, but it is really catlicking hot in Texas in August. Anyway, I thought that thin socks would be the way to go. They were comfortable and not hot, but I wasn't wowed. They were innocuous, though I've got to say, I think I like thicker socks better. So, it was on to...





Sock #2: The SLR. I wore this on a morning run to the Alamo. These were even more comfortable. They were a little thicker and even more comfortable. They're the kind of socks that hug you around your arches, which is delightful. They were a little thicker than the Cool Mesh, and I liked them better. But do I like them four times as much as the Target ones? I don't know... maybe not.



And then, there was Sock #3. This was the SLX. First of all, do they not look fast? They also hugged the arches of my feet and were the cushiest pair yet. I wore them on a 10 mile long run in brutally hot weather. Like the other two pair, they were quite comfortable and didn't annoy me in any way. But the very best news of all was that even on a long run on a sweaty day, I had no blister whatsoever. Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, we have a WINNER! I will definitely get those again.

More details of my socks life will follow.

My Socks Life

My socks life has been pretty boring for quite a while.

For most of the time that I've been a runner, my socks have been totally vanilla. From 1984-2007, you could describe them in three words: cheap white cotton. When I decided to train for a marathon, I upgraded to cheap white non-cotton, fearing blisters.

Is it time for a socks change?

The fine folks at Wright Sock and Runners' Lounge think it might be. I have been chosen to participate in the Wright Socks challenge. I scored six pair of Wright Socks to test and review here on my blog. You might be wondering if that means that you can expect more of this cringe-inducing sock puns for the duration of the challenge. Yes, you can. To do anything less would be to admit de-feet.

My current socks of choice, the cheap white non-cottons, are C9 from Target. Do I like them? Eh, they're okay. They serve their purpose of providing a barrier between my foot and my shoe, but they don't really do much else. I do get blisters after long runs, though Body Glide seems to make that a little better. They are comfortable enough, and I can get them readily for about two bucks a pair.

That might not seem like much, but as far as I'm concerned, the Wright Socks have a lot to live up to. I can't throw a pair in the cart while I'm stocking up on paper towels. And at five or six bucks a pair, they better do more than just provide a barrier between my shoes and my feet. If I'm going to abandon the C9's, they need to (wait for it...) knock my socks off.

My box of socks arrived Thursday, and they look fantastic. There are all different kinds to try - thick, thin, double-layer, and single layer. The first pair will be tested today.

How Runner Are You?

How much does being a runner influence your day to day life? I was thinking about this when, a few weeks ago, I decided to cut my hair. It was below my shoulders (which is Crystal Gayle levels of long for me) and getting a bit scraggly. The very first thing I said to the stylist was, "I'm a runner - how much can you cut off for me to still be able to have a ponytail?" And anytime I get a pedicure (admittedly rare), I make sure I tell the aesthetician, before she so much as fills the foot bath, that I am a runner and she'd best not mess with my calluses.

On the other hand, I rarely dress like a runner unless I'm actually running. And by "dress like a runner," I don't mean "wear a singlet and tights to the grocery store." I mean, there are people who I can immediately peg as runners even when they are in their civilian garb. That is because that civilian garb consists of race t-shirts with jeans or shorts and an old pair of running shoes. I don't do that (at least not very often). To prove my point: when I'm not wearing running shoes, I am usually wearing heels.

What about you? How runner are you?

The Way You Look Tonight

Tonight was one of those ordinary nights that is, at the same time, special and magical.

Jack and I went to Lincoln Park to listen to a band, bringing with us a picnic of McDonald's. Then we played on the playground, where he was a knight and I was a dragon. I said it was time to go, but he wanted to dance.

The band was playing "The Way You Look Tonight." I looked down at my dance partner, four years old, wearing a t-shirt that's too big for him and his favorite pair of faded red shorts. He was covered in a mixture of sweat, dirt, and chocolate. And his dancing consisted of manic spinning and flailing arms.

The lyrics were apt:

Lovely... Never, ever change.
Keep that breathless charm.
Won't you please arrange it?
'Cause I love you... Just the way you look tonight.

Garmin's Many Uses

Devoted followers of the Church of Garmin (praise be thy name) know that it is an invaluable tool for runners. Garmin can track your time, pace, distance, and elevation. It can record splits of any length or beep at you if you're going too fast or too slow. It can pit you against a virtual opponent in a race, graph your running history over time, and help you find your way home if you're lost.

I have also heard that it can tell time, but that feature's a little harder to find than the rest.

Recently, I uncovered another of Garmin's many widgets, one I was not aware of before. Garmin is also an effective babysitter.

I came home from a run, and Jack's desire to be entertained didn't mesh well with my desire to sit on a chair and drink Gatorade. Then, I had a holy Garmin vision (praise be thy name), divine inspiration if you will.

I put Paula Garmin on Jack's wrist and told him to run around the backyard so I could see how fast he was going. Jack thought this was the coolest idea ever. I gave him my iPod (tuned to the Captain Cubtastic mix) and added a headband to hold in the earphones. The result looked like this:


Garmin then proceeded to entertain Jack until dinner time. He raced around the back yard, creating obstacles for himself, and singing along to his music (particular favorite: "We Will Rock You"). My job was to occasionally throw out some encouragement: "You're doing great!" or "Don't stop running" bought me plenty more valuable chair sitting time.



His average pace was 15:something, probably slowed by the zillions of times he fell, the one time his shorts fell down, and the times he spent hiding behind a tree.

Now we just need Garmin to come out with My First Forerunner, because as this picture of Jack after the Bix illustrates, my boy loves to run.

Race Report: Bix 7

I had big plans for this year's Bix 7. I was going to smash my PR of 1:06:58 and run it in 1:03. I was pretty sure I could do it - I recently ran a 10 miler at 9:02 pace. Subtract three miles and add in crowds and hills, and it seemed challenging, but possible.

But plans change. What was going to be a tough race turned into a weekend of running with my guys.

Friday night was the Junior Bix. Jack was incredibly pumped for his race. I got him dressed in his Quad Cities Micro Marathon t-shirt, since Jack is certainly not going to run wearing the race t-shirt, a fact that the vast majority of the other kids were clearly unaware of. Amateurs! On the walk from the car to the starting line, Jack asked me at least three times if I would run the race with him. Every time, I answered, "Yes, if you want me to. Or if you want to run by yourself, that's fine too."

Jack insisted that we would run together - and we did, holding hands the whole way. Running with Jack is good for my spirit. All I need to do is see the joy on his face as he races to the finish line and the pride he feels upon finishing and I am reminded of my own love for the sport.

As for Steve, he was more nervous about the big race on Saturday. Last year, he ran the race despite not training well, and he suffered for it. Steve announced months ago that his goal was to run the Bix without feeling like he was going to die afterwards - and enlisted me as his coach. I put him through a series of long runs of gradually increasing distances, intermixed with the Gentleman's Three (a relaxed three-miler) and 5K's for fun. We also ran the Bix at Six training run a few weeks prior to the race, so I knew he could do it.

Steve was less confident and asked me if I would run the race with him. That was not my plan, and as visions of my 1:03 finish faded away, I said, "Um, do you want me to?" He nodded and said, "I'm asking you to." It was clear that he needed me, for moral support at least, so I agreed to run the Bix not as a racer, but instead as a coach.

Race morning! Steve woke up feeling more excited than nervous. He declared that his goal was to run the race at 12:00 pace - a more ambitious goal than "finish and not want to die," but one I was sure he could achieve. I made sure he had a good breakfast, both water and coffee,and a couple of Advil. Then we engaged in my favorite pre-race ritual of people watching - cute couples ready to run together, gaunt high school cross country boys, a shirtless guy in denim shorts, and spectators smoking cigarettes and squinting at us uncomprehendingly. The Bix is held at the end of July every year, and really, the end of July in the Midwest is a typically horrible time for running. But the weather was unseasonably cool, in the 70s, with delightful breezes. It was a great day to run, and I wondered if course records would be set.

The gun went off, and about ten minutes later, we crossed the starting line and began our assent of the Brady Street hill. The hill is about 1/4 mile long, with a challenging grade. We spent a lot of time weaving around people who apparently decided to walk it while standing shoulder to shoulder with five of their closest friends. We finished the first mile in just over 12:00, which is excellent given both the hill and the crowds.

Steve was relaxed and comfortable in the second mile. We saw Meb Keflezighi looking fantastic with a huge lead (he went on to win with a blazing time of 32:25). I later found out that Magdalena Lewy Boulet was also racing. It felt great to be running the very same race as such elite athletes! Equally cool, we ran mile two behind a phalanx of firefighters that included two who had been injured in the line of duty and were racing in wheelchairs. At the two mile mark, I heard another runner remark, "That was only two miles? You've got to be kidding me!" Steve still looked great.

People talk about the Brady Street hill when they talk about the Bix, probably because it's big and at the very start of the race. But to me, the hardest part of the course comes in the third and fourth miles, where there are steep rolling hills. Steve was a little quieter, but was still running strong.

At around mile five, Steve asked me to run a little slower. I was proud of him for opting to do that, rather than walking. I babbled away, hoping to distract him by making up a plot for "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" in which the gang runs a 5K. Steve told me later that it was obvious that I was trying to distract him, but that he appreciated it nevertheless. When I told him we had just a mile and a half to go, he was thrilled, not having realized we'd crossed the five mile mark.

Soon, we turned to run back down the big hill. I advised Steve to relax and let the hill do some of the work for him. Some of the runners around us were clearly suffering, but Steve was hanging in there pretty well. I reminded him that we were almost finished, just a mile, less than a mile to go. "You've got this," I told him.

At the bottom of the hill, the finish line was in sight. Steve picked up his pace, knowing that the race was almost over. We crossed the finish line holding hands with a time of 1:19:48.

Steve's 2008 time was 1:33:51. Not only did he finish the race feeling strong, not only did he beat his 12:00 pace goal, but he shaved two minutes per mile off his previous pace! I could not be more proud of him.

My weekend may not have included the PR I was planning, but instead, I got to enjoy running with the two people I love most.

I'm Going on a Long Run

Lately, the song "Going on a Bear Hunt" has been running through my head... but with some slightly different words. Sing it with me!

I'm going on a long run.
I'm gonna run a big one!
I'm going on a long run.
I'm not afraid!
Ooh, looky!
What is that?
It's a swamp-uh!
Can't go over it.
Can't go under it.
Can't go around it.
We gotta go through it!

I did indeed encounter a swamp on a recent long run. I was out with my running club a few days after a rain that would best be described as "monsoon-like." The path was still covered with puddles, patches of mud, and so on. The miles flew by as I'd come across a new obstacle and decide if the mud/water/gunk was too deep to run through.

One of the times I decided that it was too deep, I veered to the right hand side of the path. The other runners had the opposite instinct and went left.

I chose wrong.

Within seconds, I was sloshing through swampy long grass, soaking my feet up to my ankles, and giving my three-day old running shoes (Brooks Adrenaline, btw) some character. Everyone had a good laugh.

I'm going on a long run.
I'm gonna run a big one!
I'm going on a long run.
I'm not afraid!
Ooh, looky!
What is that?
It's a hill-uh!
Can't go through it.
Can't go under it.
Can't go around it.
We gotta go up it!

For this week's long run, we started at a different park than usual. My fellow half marathon trisko runners and I did ten miles. I was feeling great (9:02 pace makes me want to use the f-word), and the setting was beautiful. I saw two baby deer as I crossed 9-1/2 miles. I even managed to finish mile 10 as a great song finished on my iPod.

Then I remembered that in order to get back to our picnic shelter, my car, and my Oxysox, I would have to go up a gigantic hill.

I'd given those 10 miles everything I had, and Internet, my calves were burning. Still, I thought about the popsicles and watermelon that were waiting for me, and I climbed that hill.

As runners, we learn to meet obstacles head-on. We learn how strong we are, and we learn that when something daunting is ahead of us, we can confidentlly say, "I'm not afraid!"

Babyproof No More

As soon as Jack was even thinking about being mobile, Steve and I babyproofed the utter hell out of our house. Every stairway had a gate on it. Every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen was locked. Plug-ins had covers on them, and I bought a cover to keep him from turning off the computer. We even had locks on the toilets to keep him from chucking stuff into them.

When we left our house in Virginia and moved into Stately Wasser Manor, he was two years old and a lot more steady on his feet. We got rid of the gates on the stairs, the locks on the drawers and cabinets, and the plug covers.

But we did keep all of our cleaning products way up high in the pantry. If I needed to run the dishwasher (which it seems like I do every day, rolling that rock up the hill), I have to walk to the pantry to get it, then put it back away again.

This morning, it occurred to me that was unnecessary. I moved all of the kitchen cleaning products to under the sink, where nature intended them to be. This time, my childproofing consisted of a single conversation.

Me: Hey, Jack! See this stuff here?
Jack: Yes.
Me: Leave it alone.
Jack: Of course.

I have felt this many times over the past four and a half years, but Jack really seems to be at an ideal age. He's little and cute and charming, but he can also be quite reasonable.

The F-Word

Take It and Run Thursday challenges us this week to write about something controversial in the running world. To that I say fine, but just remember it was your idea, because today, I'm going to use The F-Word, a word that running bloggers everywhere are afraid to use. In a few minutes, this post is going to be riddled with F-bombs. You have been warned. Here it is:

Fast.

That's right, I said it: Fast.

It's just a little word, right? So why are so many of my fellow runners afraid to use it to describe themselves?

I have read many race reports about new PR's, the really great kind that smashed the previous best... without a single use of the F-Word. Descriptions of blistering track workouts, pounding out 400 meter repeats... without anyone so much as whispering F-A-S-T. I've even seen truly talented runners demur from using that word to describe races where they've placed or even won. The closest thing you'll hear is, "I finished with a really good time."

You didn't finish with a really good time, my friend. You were FAST! The fact of the matter is, there are a lot of runners out in the blogosphere who are extremely fast runners and just won't admit it. I read several race reports from the Boston Marathon in which the blogger noted that they'd never felt so middle of the pack as they did in Boston. Okay, so maybe you weren't in that lead pack in Boston, but if you were running the Boston Marathon at all? Let's face it: You. Are. Fast.

Is it modesty? It's true that runners are really nice and inclusive people. If I brag about how fast my 23:44 5K race was, I don't want to discount the accomplishment of a fellow runner who worked just as hard to finish in 30:00. Or, are we comparing ourselves to elite runners? Tirunesh Dibaba of Ethiopia is the fastest woman to run a 5K, and her time of 14:11:15 makes my 23:44 look like walking. Can I really call myself fast compared to her?

Yes. I am fast. And so is Tirunesh Dibaba, so are the Boston qualifiers, and so is my fellow runner who worked her butt of to score that 30:00 5K.

We all have our own Fast. Fast happens for all of us when everything clicks together just right, when we feel like we're flying, when our lungs are burning, and when we look at the time on the clock (or just the feeling in our hearts) and it is good.

I challenge you, my fellow runners, to own your Fast. To embrace the F-Word. And to shout from the rooftops when you have an amazing workout, run a strong race, or get a PR these words:

I am fast.

Race Report: Surprise Track Meet

Last night, I went to the track at Augustana College for my running club's weekly track workout. To my surprise, there was a track meet going on. People were setting up hurdles, pole vaulters were warming up, and the place was teeming with people of all ages in brightly colored running clothes. Just as I was starting to think that my plans to run on the track with the club had changed, an announcement came over the loudspeaker: Cornbelt Runners, go find Russ. He'll give you your bib number.

Well, allrighty, then.

I tracked down Russ, who is our coach, and several other runners trickled in with me. "Russ, what do you have cooked up for us?" I asked. Russ grinned and said that we were going to run in the 1500 meter race.

I have to admit, one of the first things I thought was, "If I'd known I was running a race, I'd have worn something different." My black running skirt and neon yellow marathon training group just isn't the fastest looking outfit I have. But so be it, because my second thought was, "Hey, all I have to run is a 1500? Nice!"

I warmed up and chatted with my fellow runners. Several of them had never run a race so short and had never run a track meet at all, so the excitement and nerves were high. Before I knew it, it was time for the 1500. All of the Cornbelt Running Club runners walked over to the starting line - and there were a lot of us! They had the women go first, followed by the men. And we women were joined by several kids.

Now, I have learned my lesson about kids at track meets. I ran against several of them at
an indoor meet in January, and they are freaking fast. I immediately decided to just discount the kids and focus on running against the grown-ups. We women rationalize that it was okay if the kids beat us because, um, they didn't have to work all day.

The gun was off, and so was I - probably way too fast. I glanced down at Paula The Garmin in the first 200 meters or so and saw that my pace was at a 5:something mile. I resolved to relax. Before long, there were a couple kids in front of me (ignored the little scamps), along with Kathy, who I know is one of the best runners in the area. I figured I'd have no chance of catching up to her, and sure enough, I think she ended up finishing about 150 meters ahead of me.

At around the second lap, a younger woman passed me as well. I focused on running strong, keeping my arms relaxed, and making a game of pretending to be the main character from Once A Runner, out running the mile of my life.

In the final straightaway, I picked up my pace and shaved quite a lot off of my time by chasing after one of those young whippersnappers. No, I didn't actually catch him, but again, kids are fast.

My final (unofficial, Paula Garmin) time was a speedy 6:11, putting me as the third grown-up to finish the race, and probably first in my age group if I'm right about the ages of the other two women.

I spent the rest of the night on an absolute runner's high. I hung out and watched the guys run, then headed home. As I was pulling up to Stately Wasser Manor, I saw Steve out for a run, so I parked the car and joined him for a Gentleman's Three, a great opportunity to cool down and tell him all about the race.

Lonely Too Long

For a long time, I've really preferred to run alone. That's still true - the solitude and silence can be absolutely great. But at the same time, I really want to get more involved in my local running community. I want to know my fellow runners and be able to chat with people I see at races - that was one of my 2009 goals. So, when the opportunity to join a training group for the Quad Cities Distance Classic half marathon trisko, I decided to go for it.

Turns out, running with a group is fun... and doesn't cramp my style at all. There are cool people to hang out and talk with before we hit the trails. I usually end up running by myself, but I can join someone else if I want to.

So, when the opportunity presented itself through my running club to train for fall races, I jumped on it. For fifty bucks, I get supported group runs every week, coaching, access to weekly track workouts, a discount for the Quad Cities Marathon or trisko, a pasta party, and a t-shirt. Sold!

The group has been wildly popular. There are 120 people signed up right now to train for fall marathons and triskos. Last Tuesday, I went to my first group track workout and saw that about a hundred people showed up. One hundred people, willing to do speedwork on a sweltering hot Tuesday night! I am so proud of my running club.

Tremmy

Jack likes to play a game in the car in which his various stuffed animals call him on the phone. Emmy will call to make sure he's not doing anything dangerous (which is a problem because Emmy tends to think just about everything is dangerous), or Roary will call to say he misses him and to ask when he's coming home.

One day, Jack mixed it up by getting a phone call from "Tremmy." We told Tremmy she had the wrong number, but she kept on calling back, Jack laughing progressively harder every time. Tremmy started calling us more and more often. The phone calls would go like this...

Jack: Ring, ring!
Me: Oh, no. That's going to be Tremmy.
Jack: (giggling)
Me: Hello?
Tremmy (aka Jack): Tremmy!
Me: Hi, Tremmy.
Tremmy: I am just calling to say that I have a big bag of mice.
Me: Oh, no. Tremmy, what could you possibly be doing with all of those mice?
Tremmy: I'm going to throw them at every light in the city!

Steve and I started to wonder more about Tremmy, so when she called, we asked her what kind of animal she was. Jack/Tremmy told us that she was a bird. That sounded about right to us, some kind of crazy looking bird.

So, imagine our surprise when we were at the mall and saw this crazy-looking bird:

It could only be Tremmy.

Tremmy lives with us now, but that doesn't stop her from calling us with crazy news, such as that she smeared all of the toothpaste on the windows and was throwing mice at it to see if they'd stick (Tremmy says they do not).

I am really proud of Jack's amazing imagination and sense of humor. Only Jack could invent a crazy bird who spends too much time on the phone and does weird things to mice.

What else is Jack doing? Oh, being a kid. See?


Like, eating only the middle of his Oreos.


And running through the sprinklers.

It's good to be a kid.

Running in an Oven

I have spent the time since 13.1 Chicago feeling like a bit of a slacker. Maybe that's not fair; the race was on a Sunday. I was travelling in the middle of the week, but got up early Wednesday morning to run a Gentleman's Three. And then on Saturday, I ran Race for the Cure with Steve (yes, I owe you a race report). So, it's not like I haven't been running, but the intensity hasn't been there since that last half marathon trisko.

Today presented a golden opportunity: The Bix at Six.

The Bix 7 is one of my favorite races, it being a challenging seven mile course that attracts elite runners. It's pretty cool when your hometown race is popular to the extent that there are statues of Bill Rodgers and Joan Benoit Samuelson, no? And the Bix at Six is a series of training runs, open to the public, that are on the race course.

I have said it before, and I'll say it again: it is so damned cool to have a local race that is such a draw that hundreds of people show up for a training run, the streets are blocked off, and there are water stops.

I left the office after work and hurried home to grab a quick sandwich and to change clothes. As soon as I opened the door to go outside, I knew it was going to be a tough night: it was blazing hot and humid to the point where I felt like I was inside an oven.

Uh-oh.

This summer, so far, has been blessedly mild, so this was the first really hot weather run I'd done. And having that start out with seven miles worth of hills, after not running a whole lot was a recipe for disaster... baked in the oven I was running in.

So, I made a promise to myself to take it easy and have this run be my first one in getting acclimated to the heat. I dressed in a tank top and running skirt, strapped on the Batman utility belt filled with Gatorade. I was sweating before I even started running. I slowed my pace way down, cut the course to about 5 miles, and took frequent walk breaks. I also make the delightful discovery that my makeup, which has an SPF in it, immediately melts into horrifying pools of poison when I sweat.

Was this the most fun run ever? No, it was not. But it could have been a lot worse. I am going to tough it out through my next couple of oven runs until the heat doesn't seem like such a big deal after all. And I will sing the praises of the glorious volunteers, who actually had ice water.