Race Day

After months of preparation, the half marathon is tomorrow. I've completed my training. I'm rested and hydrated. There's no cramming for a race, so this is as ready as I'm going to be.

I rekindled my relationship with running 10 months ago. Despite a slow start and numerous setbacks, I made it here. The hardest parts are over -- waking up at 5:00 a.m. every Saturday, running 12 miles alone in the rain. There was no audience for these cold, dark runs, and no immediate reward. 

But race day is a celebration. Runners will smile and encourage fellow participants. The streets will be lined with cheering people. Volunteers will give me food and drink, and place a medal around my neck.

I'm thrilled to wake up early tomorrow and celebrate with the running community. Together we'll enjoy the rewards of having a goal, sticking to a plan, and crossing the finish line. 

Let's do this.

Thighs Are Not the Enemy

I don't remember a time when I didn't hate my thighs. I can't recall exactly when I learned how a woman's body "should" look, but approximately 30 seconds later, I began dwelling on my thighs. Even at my thinnest, I wished they were smaller, stronger, with fewer bumps or jiggles.

But maybe I need to be easier on them. 

These thighs ran 10 miles today. They ran 10 miles last week, too, and they'll do it again next Saturday. I'm deep into training, and my thighs are doing their job. They pushed and propelled me, and kept going long after my mind wanted to quit.

I've been running casually since age 14, and running seriously since age 22. Throughout my running career, I've had my share of pain. My knees, shins, back, arches, and even the dreaded blackened toenails have all hurt and hindered my training. But never my thighs. Never once. 

So I'm calling a truce. 

My thighs are imperfect, but they've done everything I've asked of them. They've completed a marathon. They've traveled the world. They help me get to work, and allow me to walk, run, and dance. 

Focusing solely on what my body looks like is a waste of time and energy. Aesthetics only get you so far. Instead, I intend to refocus my energy on working on what my body is capable of. 

I have discipline, strength, and stamina, and I am capable of greatness. 

Motivation

There are many noble reasons to run: to inspire children, to channel addictive tendencies, to raise money for charity. The running community is filled with amazing people who work to make the world a better place. 

My reasons are a little less dignified. I run because I'm hungry, and I run because I'm vain.

I love to eat. I have no allergies and a diverse palate, so literally everything sounds delicious all the time. Now I could eat hamburgers and tacos without running so much (this is America after all), but then my second motivator comes into play. Since I don't want to weight 300 pounds, I work to strike a balance between calories in and calories out.

This morning I ran eight miles, and promptly followed them up with a hamburger. I have no regrets about my day. 

I use running to supplement my life. Some days it's an hour of reflection, some days a cathartic release, and some days just a good old fashioned calorie buffer. Training can be grueling, so any type of motivation helps. I wish I were motivated solely by splits and PRs, but I'm not. A meal just tastes so much sweeter when it's earned. Bon appetit!

Rain

I love running in the rain. Living in Portland, that's a bit of a necessity. The water makes me feel clean, alert, and powerful. There's no telling where sweat stops and rain starts. Drops of water on my glasses keep my focus short, seeing only what's in front of me. A casual runner may  opt for a treadmill or skip the run to avoid the rain, but I love it. 

The last half marathon I ran was three weeks before I moved from Minnesota to Oregon. It rained the entire day. My fellow racers complained, but I viewed it as an omen that I had made the right decision to move. The rain forced me to focus my thoughts on something bigger than the race. What was I running to? What was I running from? What adventures would I face in this city with so much rain?

I am now less than two months away from my next half marathon. Yesterday I ran eight miles in the rain. I saw only one other runner, and we nodded in solidarity as we passed. Rainy runs are not for the weak of heart. 

As it always does, the rain helped me focus. Eight miles means I have only five more miles to train. I am closer to the finish line than I am to the start. The miles will become exponentially more difficult, but I'm feeling strong, disciplined, and ready for the challenge -- rain or shine.

Unexpected Progress

Sometimes progress sneaks up so slowly, we don't notice it from one day to the next. Change is subtle. Growth is quiet. Without even realizing it, four miles has become comfortable. 

Several months ago, I completed my first four miler in ages. It wasn't pretty. Since then, I've had numerous bumps and setbacks. Discipline and motivation have been constant struggles, requiring me to completely rework my routine. My former method was no longer successful, so I tried a wide variety of options -- strength training, biking, yoga, swimming, Zumba. The results of these experiments have not always been apparent. I'm often the least advanced in the class, and my small weights are nothing compared to the beefcakes who bench on either side of me.  I hadn't noticed much progress, but I continued to try. 

Finally, it's working. 

I committed to a half marathon in October 2013, and last week I began my formal training. I anticipated a rocky start, as many of my recent endeavors have not gone well. Four miles was the plan for Day 1. I did it. Quite comfortably, at that. Thinking it may have been a fluke or just adrenaline from the excitement of a new race,  I tried the course again on Thursday, and yet a third time this morning. Each time, I felt strong and prepared. 

By no means do I expect this to continue for every run. As I continue to increase the distance, there will no doubt be bad days. Some runs will hurt, some will be slow, some will make me turn red and sweaty, and some will fill my head with negative thoughts that I can't quite shake. 

But my positive four mile streak gives me hope. If I can push through the bad runs, I can make it to the good ones. And before I know it, I'll be crossing the finish line. 

In Defense of Treadmills

Treadmills, I owe you an apology. For years I've avoided you at all costs. Rain, ice, snow, dark, traffic, mosquitoes, smog, cold, and wind all somehow seemed preferable to to the monotonous whir-whir-whir of a treadmill. Recently, though, I've started to come around. 

Treadmills offer a way to run that is always safe, well lit, and 68 degrees. They provide an area that is entirely mine, no sharing required. I no longer need to meander around mommy joggers with their enormous strollers.  I never have to red-rover my way through social walkers, chatting three abreast. There are no dogs, or gum, or puddles. It's a 3' x 6' space free of hazards or distractions. 

Indoor running also allows a higher level of spontaneity. Rather than commit in advance to a three, five, or seven mile loop, I can determine in real time what kind of run I want to make it. If I'm feeling strong and light, I can increase my speed with the touch of a button, or let the clock continue to run as I extend my miles. Hills and elevation changes are my own creation, and if I ever feel exhausted or hurt, I just step off. There's no fear of being stranded or injured miles away from home. When I need to be done, the run is over, no questions asked. 

Even competition is minimized, as each runner in the row looks straight ahead, concerned only with his or her own performance. The run is entirely personal. (Granted, healthy competition has its advantages. When I was feeling sluggish and tempted to quit on a long training run a few years ago, I was passed by a 70-year-old in a GRANDMAS TRI HARDER shirt. After that, I couldn't not finish the run. Shame is one hell of a motivator). 

I certainly won't be eliminating outdoor running anytime soon. The sunshine, the fresh air, the scenery, the using-your-legs-to-propel-your-body-forward-rather-than-letting-the-treadmill-belt-pull-them-back -- these are all important and beneficial aspects of running. Battling the elements is part of the reason we runners are so proud of our sport, and I have no intention of running exclusively in a sterile environment. But for the days when the great outdoors is just more than I can handle, it's nice to have a safe place to run. 

New Routine

One of my first jobs was on an assembly line in a packaging factory. Hour upon hour, repeating the same motion. Take it from the left, move it to the right. Again. And again. Sound like hell? It wasn't. It wasn't a dream job by any means, but it was pleasant, peaceful. I knew what to expect, and I did it. Every. Day.

I love routine, especially when it comes to running. Meals, paths, brands, race organizers, even specific annual races--if I like something once, I'll repeat it as regularly as possible. I don't do well with chaos, so I find order where I can.

For almost entirely positive reasons, routine has been out of the question this month. New job, new house, new dress code, new commute, new responsibilities, all in a city that I'm still discovering by the minute. Each change has been for the better, but adapting can be painful.

On my first run in the new neighborhood, I got lost. Despite Google Street Viewing and MayMyRunning the course, the turns happened sooner than I expected, or later. I don't know where I went wrong, but I did. No landmarks looked familiar. I hadn't set out on a long run, so I couldn't be that far astray, but it was enough to shake my confidence. I twisted and meandered my way back to a major street and found my way home, nowhere nearly as neatly as I'd intended.

As much as I try to hold on to structure and sameness, change just keeps on coming. But that's what's wonderful about running. Change can lead to exciting progress and new discoveries. The motions of running are consistent, but there are new variables every day. I can change location or time of my run, change my motivation for running, the distance, or level of difficulty. If I'm not getting the results I want, I can add a new element and improve the way I run.

Maybe I'll join a running group. Maybe I'll try an obstacle course race. Maybe I'll stop running with a watch and run until I feel finished, not until I hit a certain time.

There's always a way to change and make it better. Even it's not the direction I intended to go.