Three weeks and I have only ran once!

I can't take it anymore. I have to return to running. It's weird, I am finally at a point that nothing hurts and I am just about ready to jump out of my skin. My next run is a Shorty (5K) on New Years Eve in downtown Portland to be followed by the Race for the Roses Half Marathon in April. I need to run. I need to drop the few extra pounds that creped up on me during my marathon training. Running can equal pain. But it also equals sanity to me. Bring me my running shoes! (Oh, that's right. I guess I will have to get off my ass and get them myself.)

R-Day Part II

My little French marathoner. He was awesome. He was in the second wave. I was in the third. I was certain he would finish in record time. After all, he must be an amazing marathoner if he is running with a metal structure hoisted on his shoulders. Those who knew me back in my sculpture day, could easily love this guy. He has to have balls of steel.

The start was invigorating. Of course they had you start running to Frank Sinatra’s "New York - New York". Your first mile and a half is over the Staten Island Bridge. Knowing that inclines are my downfall (I just recovered from a knee injury), I decided to walk briskly up the bridge till it leveled out. It was windy on that bridge, but the view was amazing! I was in a freaking marathon people! Many, many people passed me. All were incredibly excited. I wanted to run with them, but I knew that if I pushed too hard now, I would suffer that much more later. Once I crested the bridge I started my run. Soon I had left Staten Island behind me and I was in Brooklyn.

I would like to take a moment to say that I love Brooklyn. LOVE IT. The people were so excited that greeted the runners on the sides of the streets and the energy was just amazing. I have never seen so many strangers that looked so excited for me. Brooklyn has a culture and dynamic that I just love. If I were to choose to move to a city I have never lived in before, it would have to be Brooklyn.

Now I spent allot of time in Brooklyn. Approximately 11 miles of the 26.2 miles of the marathon are all in Brooklyn. It was a relatively flat course and I enjoyed my journey through the borough. The only portion of Brooklyn that was fairly quite was the neighborhood which has a large population of hasidic Jews. The runners received more bewildered looks than cheers. However, there was one lovely family handing out popsicles to the runners. I know that there is a place in heaven for them!

Speaking of Jews, I saw Jesus. Okay, not the really Jesus, but a guy who I assume decided to re-use last night's costume for little marathon cheer. Jesus held a sign that said, "In ten miles, water will turn into wine." Jesus was a lucky man that I was currently indisposed at the moment. Because (1) he was at mile 12 - not mile 16.2 and at that moment I was highly aware of how much more I had to run and didn't appreciate any false hope and (2) promising wine to me and not delivering said wine to me could result in bodily harm. Especially, since I expected that I would need as much "pain killer" as possible after this Sunday run.

My second bridge crossing was the Pulaski Bridge. This was the halfway point of the race and the first indication that perhaps my knee had not completely forgiven me. I didn't feel pain in as much, but a familiar "wobbliness" or looseness. I took is easy and tried to maintain a normal gait. From this point I left my beloved Brooklyn behind for Queens.

Subtle shift in the force in Queens. There were some marathon watchers that did do their best to cheer us on, but where there were once thousands - stood only a couple dozens of people. More industrial, Queens didn't offer the same thrill as Brooklyn and now the miles were starting to pile on.

Queens was soon behind me and as I crossed the Queensboro Bridge. That looseness in my knee had become a steady, but doable ache. At this point in the race I saw a man who was participating in the marathon who was using a prosthetic limb (singular) in lieu of his missing legs to take small leaps towards completing his journey. He had the assistance of a friend who pushed a wheel chair behind him, incase he needed it. But this guy was freaking awesome. Seriously, he put any professional athlete I have ever seen to shame. Someone endorse this guy, because I would buy whatever the hell he would sell! My knee after seeing this guy was a non-issue.

As I entered Manhattan, I was so excited that I really couldn't take it all in. I was in the NYC Marathon! I just kept hitting me like a shockwave. I was like a kid on a sugar rush at Chucky Cheese. I was on overload. I will say that the upper eastside of New York is snooty-tooty. There is nothing like having people cheer you on from their penthouse apartments or trendy bar scene. Either way both groups appeared to be deep into their cups by the time I passed them by. As I approached mile 18 near 96th Avenue, my knee finally started to scream stop! I slowed, but refused to stop. Knee be damned, I had a marathon to run! My running took on the gait of an elderly lady running in slow motion against a river of Jell-O. Slow, smooth and awkward. But I continued to move forward.

I soon entered the Bronx. Okay, so anything I had to say about Queens being more industrial in appearance, can be magnified 10 fold for the Bronx. There were maybe 20 people scattered along the streets in the Bronx, when I arrived to cheer us on and I loved each and every one of them. When we reached the Mission Avenue Bridge which would take me from the Bronx back to Manhattan, any semblance to running was given up. I had almost 6 miles ahead of me and I was going to walk them.
I was angry. I wanted to run. But at this moment, my body had taken charge. My knee had the stability of play dough and my shins had those wonderful sharp pains I remembered from my first days of training - shin-splits. I would finish this god damned race. After all, my boss was tracking my progress online!
As I neared Central Park and saw its great trees I felt this mixture of joy, grief and relief. Joy over almost being finished. Grief, which I think was more of an emotional response to the pain I was in and relief that in a few hours this would all be behind me.

A lovely woman cheered to me, "You're almost finished! Keep going!” I love her. She saw my face and she looked like she wanted to give me a hug. It's like when your little kid and you fall and an adult asks you, "Are you okay?", and you start crying. You were fine before they asked you if you were okay. It’s was trigger.
Another young lady handed me a filled cup of which I was about to thankfully drink, when she announced, "Its beer!” You, bitch. I thought and I handed the cup back to her. There hasn't been an aid station for over three miles and I needed either water or more god forsaken Gatorade. Not fucking beer! I don’t like beer when I not running a marathon! I couldn't walk straight or think straight. Where was that fucking wine Jesus promised earlier?! Now wine I could do.

As I was running on the outskirts of Central Park, I saw what I thought was the finish line. I knew that the race ended in central park and that I had to be mistaken. But somehow, my legs overheard my thoughts and started their countdown to non-movement. I started to chant to myself, "One more mile. One more mile." I wanted to cry so badly, but I refused. My breath came out in ragged little sobs. But still I didn't cry. I sounded like I was, but I swear at that moment, I sucked it up! Then the unimaginable happened. I crossed a mile marker that said, "1.5 miles left to go!" I almost went postal. In my head I thought I only had less than a mile left. I continued. What felt like an eternity later I approached the finish line. They began to call out the names of the runners who had written their names on their shirts for the supporters to shout out. I, never running a marathon before was not in the loop on this name tag stuff. Still I showed my bib number and shuffled over the finish line. From there I walked another 100 feet to get my metal and then another 50 feet to get my picture taken wearing said metal. At this point I started to cry. Mom, I never wanted you more before in my adult life! I needed my mommy, a bath, a valium and my bed - in that order.

My friends sent me a text message letting me know that they were waiting for me and that they were 10 blocks away. They had to be fucking joking. Must be. First I had to use the port-a-potty. As I started to approach a line of them in the park and race volunteer blocked me. He said, "Sorry mam, those are out of service. You'll need to exit the park about 9 blocks up to use the port-a-potties there." I started to cry again. This somehow cracked his tough New York exterior, and he apologized to me and told me (lied) that really the port-a-potties are just a little ways up the way. I started to walk to meet my friends. They weren't lying. Because they didn't have the $75-$150 tickets to be at the race finish, they were blocked access to the park. Within 20 minutes of finishing the race I was reunited with my friends.

I love my friends. They made sure to document the completion of my first marathon. And the fact that I couldn't walk downstairs to get to the subway after the race. That’s right. The only way I could get down the stairs was to walk backwards. I'll post those pics, if I get them. The pictures of me after the race are not pretty. I have the wild hair of a crazed homeless person with the smell to match. So here's to my first marathon. Hopefully not my last, but hopefully my slowest! Here's to more miles to come!

Oh by the way. My little French hero with the sculpture of the Eiffel Tower on his shoulder finished 3 minutes after me. He is also 63 years old. THAT IS A FUCKING ROCK STAR - PEOPLE!

R-Day, part I

The night before the race we rented a hotel room. My gym buddy had joined me on my journey from Oregon to New York to witness my historic run. The hotel was a genius idea. However, I was unable to sleep more that a few restless hours at best. I had ill-rational thoughts that I would oversleep, twist an ankle, take the wrong train to get to the race start, and the small fact that I was going to run a marathon kept bouncing around my head. I decided to go to bed early and take a couple of Tylenol PMs to try to get to sleep. If not for those little blue pills, I don’t believe I would have slept at all.

I feel sorry for my friend who joined me on my trip to NYC. She had never been to the big city before and I was unable to really show her the town. You’re not supposed to walk overly much before the race. Fatiguing your muscles before a marathon is a sure way to doom your run. The night before the run was Halloween. And the mischief available for two single ladies in NYC was huge – if one of ladies was not doing an endurance run the morning following. She was very understanding, which is why I am nominating her for sainthood. Do you have to be a catholic to become a saint? I digress.
Before I went to bed, I laid out all my clothing for the race. I made sure that I had my train fare, directions to the train & Staten Island Ferry, and money for any last minute necessities. I made sure that my racing bib was attached to my shirt and my shoe tracker was attached correctly to my shoe.

I woke at 5:45AM and left at 6:30PM. We were staying in Brooklyn near some friends of mine. The race starts on Staten Island. My transportation to the start was scheduled at 8 AM from Battery Park. I walked from the hotel in the direction I was sure I was supposed to be heading. And I walked. Then I walked some more. I realized that I was nowhere near where I was supposed to be. I regrouped and finally found the subway station I was supposed to go to. I estimate that I walked at least two miles out of my way; only twenty six point two left to go.

When I arrived at my stop, it was in the financial district. I was to take the Staten Island Ferry, where the official race bus shuttles would shuttle me to the race start. I was in the third wave (blue wave) of the race. My wave of the race wasn’t scheduled to start until 10:20 AM. By the time I arrived at the race start I still had over two hours until I started running. Saying that I was antsy or worried; would be an understatement.

The start was pandemonium. Or perhaps that is what every marathon start looks like. Thousands of people milling around, looking for places to sit and stretch and trying to figure out what the PA announcers are saying in the five different languages they keep using. Speaking of foreigners, I had no idea that there were so many French marathon runners! My favorite was a french runner
running with a metal model of the Effiel tower on his sholders. 

To be continued....

I am SPAZZZING OUT!!!!!!!!

In less the a few hours I leave for NYC! I am going to run a freaking marathon, people!. Holly crap! I am so excited, but I wish I had more time to prepare. I feel terribly bloated and I am fighting a very slight cold, but I am sure that neither is nothing that a little running wont take care of. I am off to bed. I have to get up at 3:15AM for my flight. Wish me luck! I take prayers too.

Thank you all for your support!

Much Luvin,

Chris

1 Week to the Day to Go.

My last long run before the Marathon is now behind me. I only have cross-training, 2 three mile runs and 1 two mile run, before resting for the big day. A weird kind of sadness has descended upon me. I hear that when people put forth so much effort and time into a project, such as planning their wedding, marathon training, graduating from college; once the deed has been completed some descend into a depression over the loss of what for that time had defined them for so long.

I would prefer not to fall into that category. My plan is to try to accomplish those items, which seem to sit around on my “to do" list and never seem to be completed. Learn conversational Spanish. Go skydiving. Complete a new series of artwork and look into having a show. Take a trip to Europe (hello, second job). Get a professional designation to help with my career. Will I do all these things? Maybe. But it’s the journey I enjoy more than the destination.

I am currently worried about whether or not I am adequately prepared for this marathon. My injury appears to be recovered. But on my last run (7.25 miles), honestly, I felt like crap. It's not a confidence booster. I have run 20 miles - twice. Logic tells me that if nothing else I can run/walk 20 freaking miles. So then I should be able to do the same on race day. Right? It's most likely that a massive case of PMS has hit me; which has the same affect on most women of making me a tad moody.

I just spent an amazing weekend at the beach with some of the most beautiful women of Oregon. They are all very inspiring to me. Mothers, sisters and friends all empowered in their own unique way. I'll be thinking of you all while I am in NYC!

1 Week till NYC!

With only one week left till race day, my excitement is almost uncontainable.  My long run this weekend is only 8 miles.  For those of you that would like to join me at the Oregon coast, here is my route for Saturday Morning - about 10am-ish.

Email me if your planning on joining me.  Hope to see you then! - Chris

Two weeks till race day...

I am still in my tapper period (LOVE IT) and now I am planning my trip to NYC. I am so excited! I have realized that I won’t be able to complete my race in less than 5 hours, but I will complete it (in NYC and how freaking cool is that going to be?)! My last long run was good (13 miles) and my knee has recovered. That injury was the result of inadequate stretching. Damn the IT band! Who knew?! So now I am stretching every day and I hope that it will prepare me for race day. My next run is 8 miles - it feels like a gift, really. Who would have thought that I would have looked at an 8 mile run two years ago and thought, "Yeah, that's just a short run!” I laugh, but part of me can’t stop thinking, "hell, if I can do this, is childbirth really such an insurmountable ordeal?", for the moment - yes.

Whiskers on kittens, tapering, brown paper packages tide up with string – these are some of my favorite things…

Ah, tapering, how I have so looked forward to you. I have longed for this time for months now. But alas, our time together is short and tainted by an annoying injury to my knee.
It was on my last long run. I had planned to run 21 to 23 miles and picked Forest Park (Portland, OR) as my spot. I haven’t done much hill work and I though that if I took it slow and easy that it would be a great last run. I was excited for my last long run and was strangely looking forward to it. At mile marker zero I felt good and started my pre-run warm-up walk. I walk for at least 10 minutes at the start of my long runs. You may be able to break into a gentle jog from the get go, but unless its race day – no way for me. I felt good, no worries. I began my slow jog, a pace I planned on maintaining throughout my entire run. Somewhere in the 12-13 minute mile pace. Things were going fine. Now I should state that Forest Park at mile marker zero starts out as an incline (the Leaf Erickson trail) and continues to be an incline the whole damn way to mile marker 8 (as far as I have ever gone on that trail). At mile four and curious sensation started in my right knee, right outside of the knee I should say. I felt a weird loose numbing pain. The pain was nothing really to write home about, so I continued my run. By mile marker 8, the annoying “loose” feeling had turned to a full blown pain and forced me to start a shuffling walk back to mile marker zero (now only 8 miles away). I called my running coach and she informed me to call it a day, of which I reluctantly agreed.
This annoying pain refusesd to go away! What the hell? I have rested my knee (which meant –no running for a solid week) and still it continuesd to be bothersome. Well tonight no more. In less than two weeks is my race and I’ll be damned if a wonky knee is going to keep me down! I will run, damn it!
Please look for my next post about knee replacement surgery and the high cost of pride.

Correction on my previous post of September 6, 2009.

You CAN become insanely bored on a treadmill. Anything over the 2 hour marker should suffice to drive you suitably insane.  Better yet, have your IPod either die on you or refuse to play anything but your 70's Disco Mix; that should be enough for you to strangle the coughing, hacking, perfume doused bastard next you. 

A discussion on boredom…

I have been asked on multiple occasions, “Don’t you get bored running on the treadmill?” My answer typically is fairly honest, no. But people look at me in disbelief as if I had just tried to pass of my knock-off Prada as the real deal. So I will attempt to take you through the process of an average treadmill run’s thought process.

Stage 1 – the warm up: First thoughts have to do with whether or not I have to go to the bathroom, do I have sufficient reading material, does my water-bottle rattle distractedly in the treadmill’s cup holder, what is my hair doing, what garment has the highest potential for chaffing, and most importantly are my shoes tided?

Stage 2 – actual running begins: Pain. Odd random pain in either foot, shin, calf, or hip. Nothing that lasts more than 15 seconds. My body’s way of saying to me, “Fuck you and all your damn running!” Again more thoughts on possible bathroom usage. Legs and hips are stiff and will remain so until mile 2 is complete. I find that I am continuously flipping through my magazine looking for something pretty and distracting (articles about shoes are the best). I must keep the red flashing numbers covered at all times, or I will watch them with the fever of watching paint dry.

Stage 3 – My profuse sweating is making my hair stick to my head and my shirt to my body. I look around for one other woman who is by chance as sweaty as I. A sister or a comrade in our sweat-dom. No such luck. My looks around the gym have caught the attention of the older woman in perfecting matching track suit sweat band combo. The look of utter disgust on her face as she sees my sweaty appearance is enough – apparently her gym clothes are not meant to be sweated in. I then start to visualize that I am running in NYC on marathon day. I am running through the barrows so excited and pumped. This little dream last about 5 minutes, before it feels stale. I check my running posture and the time. I still have approximately 30 more minutes ahead of me. I flick through the songs on my IPod and find that song. You know that song that back in the day you would dance to in the clubs with your girlfriends using your sexiest moves. The same song that if anyone you knew today heard you listen to, would mock you endlessly for having it on your play list.

Stage 4 – Make your self utterly deaf and do not make eye contact. A fellow gym member has decided to take up residence on the treadmill next to me. They causally glance at me and start their run. They are running faster than me, but that is fine. I have a distance race ahead of me, not a speed race. For some reason they pound their treadmill like a drum and the beat of their foot strike is utterly distracting. I turn up the IPod. It appears that the fellow runner has drunk a tall glass of milk. I assume this because they are now coughing and hacking something fierce. I continue my run hoping that they will finish soon and leave me in peace. What’s this? The runner has a friend! Great! Fantastic! Now he and his buddy (obliviously a milk lover as well) are loudly chatting, hacking, coughing and pounding the treadmill as if was pizza dough. Better yet, new runner has decided to wear lots of cologne. Its times like these that I wished I had a terrible case of gas. I get them. And they are the stuff of legend. But no, I can even muster up a burp at the moment, let alone a toxic gas event. I use my frustration to power me through my last 1 mile.

Stage 5 – Cool down: Total time on the treadmill 60 minutes. Now I have a cool down of 10 minutes. The guys have left their treadmills after their 15 minute runs. Too bad, I really wanted to know how the Blazers were going to make it to the final four this year. As my sense of smell starts too slowly return to normal – who still wears, no make that bathes in Drakkar anymore? Really! I realize that I am starving and think of dinner. Mmmm, I do love me some din din.

And that my friend, is what I think about when I am on the treadmill. No, I am not smashing atoms. It’s boring and repetitive. But you try doing complex thought on the treadmill. I have tried to do simple math and you would think I am trying to calculate the amortization schedule of my loans. That is how Chris end’s up falling off the treadmill (twice). No thank you.

Time to play is not for today…

Labor Day Weekend has arrived. The last days of summer are upon us and for many here in the Pacific Northwest it’s a last rush to enjoy all that is bright and beautiful about the summer before the drizzly days of winter are upon us with their relentless grey skies and wet chilly mornings. You can smell that crisp cool air coming in from the ocean almost 100 miles away, a sure sign that winter is sure to follow.

When you go to the stores, Halloween decorations are now in full display. Halloween is typically one of my favorite holidays, but not this year. This year Halloween has put sheer terror in my heart. For Halloween is the day before my 1st marathon. The race is less than two months away and my panic is really starting to set in. I yearn to get out of my apartment to do something else other than buy supplies, work or run. But now is not the time to play hooky. Marathon training, to me is a kin to a prisoner work release program. You go and work then dutifully return back to you cell (apartment) to continue on the next day. Hopefully at the end of the program you’ll get some time off for good behavior. Don’t get me wrong I am so ecstatic that I have somehow managed to get into the marathon and that I am moving along in my training. But after almost two years of training for one race or another, I could use a break and a martini.

The height of my excitement this weekend – I went to a movie. Oh I know what you’re thinking “you, rebel”, but you see, if it weren’t a three day weekend, then I would have had to run my long run today and then I would have been too tired to do anything the rest of my weekend. Friday night I would have had to go to bed early so that I could do today’s long run and Sunday would have been reserved for recovery and prepping myself & the apartment for the next week. Yep, I am a real ball of fun right now. Woo freaking woo, people.

Melvin, Atomic or Hanging – at mile 5 it all feels the same…

That’s right – I am talking underwear people. I have been fighting a battle now for over two years. A silent battle of wills - so to speak. I will that my underwear will stay in its intended place while I run. However, the underwear has repeatedly refused to remain decent. The underwear appears to know where to “wear” on my last nerve. I have tried brief, bikini, thong, boy-cut (worst decision EVER), high-leg and so many other options that my drawer looks more like the discount bin at Victoria Secrets than an underwear drawer. My more “earth mama” friends have suggested commando, but that is ultimately just not me. I prefer that protective barrier between me and my clothing. I just prefer my undies to have some measure of manners.

Confuse by this rant? Let me detail to you my worst experience ever. I have a typical outside run ahead me. Not my long run, but I have at least an hour + ahead of me outside. Without thinking about it, that morning I put on the cutest pair of boy-cut undies. They matched my bra, why wouldn’t I have picked them? Oh, let me tell you why! Boy-cut or boy shorts cover your tushie more than let’s say a bikini would, but not so much that you feel your wearing granny panties. Herein lays the problem. You see, cotton granny panties cover you butt, but they follow the shape of it completely. As you sweat they just stick to your butt – completely, but respectful. Boy shorts allow a little tushie to hang out below. As you run that butt of yours moves, really moves and those cute little boy shorts start going for a ride. Now if let’s say your on a public and popular trail where attractive people are and mothers are walking their infants, its perhaps bad form to pick your underwear. So I continue on thinking and hoping that at some point I will dislodge - what now feels like yards of fabric from my buttocks. No rest for the wicked, it is apparently “Everyone Be Outside On This Damn Path Day”. 30 Minutes have passed and I am almost ½ through my run. I decide that perhaps if I run faster the underwear will dislodge themselves or at the very worst I’ll get back to the privacy of my car that much faster. WRONG. My underwear feels as if its convinced my innocent track pants to participate in this torture. My wedgie has now transformed so some sort of hybrid Melvin/Atomic wedgie. Did I mention that even at my top speed I am also the slowest runner on the planet? The old, weak and infirm taunt me as the wiz by me on their Rascals. Bastards! Not only am I my normal sweaty self, but I am about 99% certain that I am sporting a fashion faux pas – starts with a camel and ends with an –o-. Thank god my running pants are black!  I arrive at my car, blessing the stars that there is virtually no one in sight and I immediately adjust myself with no subterfuge. Ah the relief…and the giggles. Not my giggles, no that would be from the local high school track team that has just passed my car to start their nightly run. Go ahead and laugh my pretties. I can see your panty-lines from here and I have a pretty good idea where there going to be headed.

Sidewalks, Dead-ends & Roadkill - Oh my!

With my long runs becoming longer and longer, I have taken to plotting them on Google Maps. This is a wondrous web service; right up there with email and Fandango if you ask me. Google is about 90% accurate (in my opinion) and I can finally have a way of more accurately measuring the distance of my runs, before I run them. Oh but there is one hitch. I live in Tigard, Oregon, population of approximately 46,000+. Do you think that perhaps the city could hire one damn civil engineer and implement their suggestions?!

My frustration stems from the fact that like many areas of the Northwest, not every street is labeled with a sign, sidewalks are limited if they exist at all, and little if any street lights. Add to that some streets are not through streets (with no signage). Perfect example: there is a street about 2 blocks from my house. Now from Google maps, using the satellite view it appears to be a through street, so much so that Google recommends this route. As I proceed on my run down this street it becomes immediately apparent that this is not a through street because someone never finished paving the damn street. Oh look, some kindly neighbor has decided to extend his fence across the street as well. Great! Now I have to either jump a fence to trespass on this guys made up boundary line or worse run back up the street and find an alternate route. I choose the later. Tigard police don’t give warnings. They give citations - big fat citations with matching fines.

I figure that this dead-end is a once in a blue moon kind of deal and continue on my run. But wait; there is more – as I continue to run following the remainder of my route, I again come to an unmarked dead-end, but this time there is no fence. This time there is a very deep and stinky creek that I have to traverse. WTF! I am on mile 13 of my run. My legs are shaking and now I have to do some kind of American Gladiator move to cross this damn creek! I find an aqueduct and use that to cross the creek. After completing this run and all the additional mileage as a result of my re-routing, I decide to see if the local Parks and Rec website can give me a map of available trails to use in my future runs. Well, there are some small parks and some of them are honestly very nice. Thank God! But none of the parks are linked in any way to each other. Oh there are proposals to one day, maybe link some of these trail together, but that is years and many dollars away. So to complete my blithe rant, I will continue to run in Tigard; dodging road kill & traffic, exploring dead-ends, and getting lost in my own neighborhood - over and over again.

Like a hamster on a wheel...

Running. Always running. That is my life. When is my next run? How far is that run? What elevation, incline, speed, terrain, etc? Am I sore, tired, fatigued, stiff or is it that one moment of rarity where nothing hurts and I have enough energy to think of something to clean. This training has becoming all encompassing, but I have come to the point that as much as I am sick of it – in some sick way I relish it. I love that I am getting stronger, faster and more determined than ever. Yesterday, I ran 16.29 miles – outside and up some serious hills (okay I walked up the hills). A year ago that would have been unimaginable. Now it’s only the most recently accomplished challenge. Next week 17 miles is my long run. Already I am trying to plan my next route.

Don’t get me wrong – I miss having time to seriously do my art (or at least think about creating). I miss not being able to hang out with my friends and family members because I have to prepare for a run for the next day. There are days (like today) where I am just sick of it all and would like to take a long nap and forget it. However, there is something so incredibly self servicing and freeing about this training for me. Knowing that I am preparing for a battle that is nothing less than against myself, is as fear inducing as it is exciting. There is nothing that is going to stop me short of serious injury, from doing this marathon – nothing that is except me. When people say that running is a mental game – it’s all too true. Your body could be at its peak in performance, but if your mind isn’t – you aren’t running. Too often we discount this connection. But where your head is – will determine when your feet will follow.

Slacker is my name-O!

Marathon training requires allot of discipline. More perhaps than most are willing to dedicate and sacrifice their time in pursuing the goal of running a marathon. I understand this more fully now than ever. I love the fact that I am pursuing this goal and that I am able to see my progress, however slow it may feel.

August is proving my most difficult month thus far in my training. Every weekend has a social engagement, a weekend getaway, or some other event of which I have promised my attendance months previously. This normally inspires excitement and anticipation from me. I am, by nature a social butterfly. But with my long runs on the weekend becoming more and more demanding of my energy and time, I find that I am forced to breakup these runs into two separate runs to accommodate my time and energy. I fear that these mini-long runs are a poor substitute for the intensity of the true long run of 13+ miles that is scheduled for me. Another side effect is that I am missing my rest days, if not all of them during the week, then at least one. I was very excited for this past weekend. I was going to run with the Portland Marathoner Training – 5 hour group. Their run, which was scheduled at 8:00 AM, was an 18 mile run. Since they are more advanced in their training than I; I was planning on only running 13 miles.

This plan was perfect; however I decided to go for a run Friday night to make up some miles I had missed earlier in the week. When I came home about 9:30 PM, I found I could not fall asleep and was restless, but tired. When I finally fell asleep, it was 1 AM. When my alarm went off at 6:30 AM for my run with the Marathoner’s group, I was so tired, I felt nauseous. I made an executive decision. I was miss the run and meet up with the group the weekend after next. Unsure of where to run and having a commitment later that day, I completed a 5 mile run along the waterfront in downtown Portland. On Sunday, I ran another 8 miles in my neighborhood. Sunday night I was exhausted. Exhaustion, I am learning will make my sometimes less than smooth social skills even less effectual; case in point – completely forgetting at the bridal shower the bride-to-be fiancée name was Page and loudly asking what a “page” had to do with a wedding. Ouch!

Tired, I can manage. Exhaustion is something I am beginning to understand requires rest to recover sufficiently from. Gumption or sheer force of will, will only take me so far.

I am blessed to have so many wonderful friends. I wouldn’t imagine missing someone’s wedding, bridal shower, or some other once in a lifetime event. But honestly, I can not wait for September. No plans, no commitments – only running. Lots and lots of running.

Important Lesson Learned!

I had one long run last weekend. Last Saturday I was to run 12 miles. My IPod has a habit of rounding up - so in order to run 12 miles, I have to run 13.2 on the IPod. Crazy math, hunh? Well, I have another obstacle - I need to run more outside. So here was my plan. I would run about 5 1/2 to 6 miles outside in the morning before it became too hot then finish the run at the gym on the treadmill. Here was the plan:

Wake at 7am.
Leave house by 7:30am and run.
Come back to house in an hour, leave for gym.
Complete run at gym in about an hour.
Come home, shower.
Maybe run to the store or just chill out.

Here was reality:
Wake at 7:30am.
Leave house at 8:35am and run.
Heat is already 80 degrees.
Run for 1 hour and 10 minutes.
Return home - dehydrated and tired.
Shower.
Sit on couch; think about how freaking hot apartment is.
Fall asleep on couch. Wake up hours later, sweaty.
Shower.
Go to Target to buy fans.
Go to gym at 6:10pm.
Run 50 minutes, then kicked out of gym (they close at 7pm).
Shower.
Wake at 10am Sunday morning to run last 3 miles of run.
Shower.
Feel utterly drained and wasted on Monday.

Lessoned learned - run my long runs all at once or suffer the consequences.

No Candy...

I am now in training. I run any where to 4 to 6 miles four days a week with a long run on the weekend which at the moment is topping out at 12 miles. With the guidance of my running coach – found on the Road Runners Club of America website: http://www.rrca.org/. She has created for me a custom schedule to enable me to run my marathon. I am so excited to be accomplishing something, hell, even attempting something that 15 years ago I would have thought forever beyond my ability. Why the running coach? Because I saw someone wrote a freaking book on how to run the NYC Marathon. Why did they write a book on how to run one specific marathon, you ask? Cause it’s that freaking hard. So for the cost of two pedicures a month, I hired a running coach.

My running coach has confirmed for me my sinking suspension regarding marathon training and weight loss. The two do not coincide. I have to admit that I am a bit bummed. In the 2 last weeks or so I have used this as a reason to eat more than I would have normally, but I determined to put a stop to this behavior. Would it be nice to be that size 8 while running across the finish line in Central Park – Hell Yeah! But knowing that it's perhaps not a realistic goal (I am currently a size 12) I am not going allow myself to continue to gain weight just because I have this odd sense of defeat. Which is really weird, cuz I am in a freaking marathon! I need to celebrate this accomplishment. When I eat better - I feel better. A few weeks ago, I bought candy for the office (okay me, but I shared People!). And I found that I felt achy and terribly fatigued afterward. So I have made my first pledge for this race. To improve my training and overall sense of well being – no more candy till after the race – insert big gasp here! To those of you who chew only ½ a piece of gum at a time, I don’t expect you to understand. I am once of those who does eat and enjoy the entire movie size box of sour skittles before the opening credits of the movie are over. It’s weird how much more in tune I feel with my body now. It’s hard to ignore those small signs that I was so oblivious to before. The food I eat, the amount of sleep I get, the depth of my training – now all greatly impacts how I function. Now to most of you this is no great revelation. To me, it’s the first time I have really paid attention to what my body is saying. At the moment, it’s got a filthy mouth.

One day a week I am to cross-train. I have found a great class called Zumba at this dance studio called Diva Den: http://www.pdxpoledivas.com/index.html. I found this place through a Weight Watchers meeting, believe it or not. I have taken levels 1 & 2 of the Pole Dancing Classes and they are an utter blast – but I have been told not cross-training worthy. Have no fear, once this race is completed I will return to my pole! Oh, don’t be confused. I am not very good at pole dancing – I call myself the Mary Catherine Gallagher of the strip tease. That easy/flirty/sexiness that so many women have – not me. Why do I do it? The same reason kids swing on the monkey bars – its fun! And the shoe are just freaking hot!

Well I am off to shower and rest. Today is a rest day. Tomorrow - bring on the runs!

So much has happened since my last post!

I took some much needed rest after my half marathon (about a month and a half). Getting back into to game was difficult, but worth the effort. Re-training is much easier than that first attempt at running seriously.
I have completed my races for both the Starlight Run and Epilepsy Run. Both were fun and I did not focus on finishing in any "record" time (for me). I have also won the lottery pick for the ING New York City Marathon for this November 1, 2009. The airfare has been purchased and the training will begin in earnest soon. I am also looking at hiring a running coach. I never - ever would have thought it necessary to hire someone to tell you to run. When I began to plot out my training schedule for the ING, I realized that I would be able to run the marathon in 2 months! Great! Awesome! But you see, my race is not for 4 months. Major freaking problem. So I became creative and figured that if I repeated every week twice, then I would be doubly ready for the race. One small nagging issue - overtraining. Never an issue for me before. Hell getting me to train was the issue before. So with the help of the Road Runner's Club of America website: http://www.rrca.org/ I have found several coaches who appear up for the job of correcting my form, training schedule and giving me that little tiny bit of additional motivation I need.
I am excited and scared, but I know that I will succeed. I just want to be sure that it doesn't take me 12 hours to finish the ING! God, if your listening, help me train so I can finish in 5 hours and I will no longer cut-off old people in traffic - well, I'll try anyway.

New Races on the Schedule!!!

May 30, 2009 - The Starlight Run - again, but this time with spunk!

June 23, 2009 - I am running for charity! I will be running in the Epilepsy Foundation Northwest Run/Walk. Please support me in my effort: http://efnw.kintera.org/faf/r.asp?t=4&i=307541&u=307541-255188066&e=2399299511

Pictures and details of each long and painful moment to follow!

The Race for the Roses Half Marathon-2009

This year's marathon brought about a record number of participants at about 4000 runners. Impressive. I with my sweet mum in tow, arrive about 6:45AM to the scene. The race started at 7AM. Although I was suffering from a small cramp in my right calf, and I was a bit stiff still from waking earlier that morning, I figured the run would limber me up. I wasn't feeling the normal excitement I had experience on my other runs. More fear and panic. But my mom was there, so I did my best to put on a good face. I now see from the photos of that day I failed terribly at that.
Typically at mile 2 or 3 I begin to loosen up. Not so this time. This was perhaps the most demanding run ever. The first and most significant hill forced me to walk and curse the very notion of running for sport. "Why would anyone in their right mind pay good money to partake in a run, on city streets, at 7am, for 13.1 miles?!" I continued and then something wonderful happened. I started to run down hill. This was awesome! I could run faster! I felt no pain! I should have questioned this logic. But no, I continued on my new wild pace until mile 8. That is when disaster hit. My Nike+ failed. Utterly and completely failed. The announcer told me "Congratulations, for completing my 8.4 mile run." I stopped. For the first time in the entire race I stopped moving. This is when all madness began. I began walking and fidgeting with my IPod to fix the Nike+ (how to fix something that only plugs in is beyond me!), and I realized that although I only stopped for a moment my legs began to stiffen up. Running faster than my base pace down the hill was resulting stiffened legs and greater exhaustion. I started to jog lightly while cursing the damn Nike+. I got it to restart but after .3 of a mile again I heard the announcer congratulate me on my "spectacular" run. I checked the sensor in my shoe, I checked the sensor in my IPod, I reset the IPod; nothing worked. Oh, inventor of the Nike+, how you could create something that I could so dearly love and make it betray me in my greatest time of need! I continued with my run, but my pace had slowed considerably. Now I was just listening to music, which somehow was less inspiring knowing that my miles were no longer being logged. I passed mile ten. My hips had the most amazing sensation. As if the ligaments had become as stiff and brittle as overdone jerky. A speed walker and some tumbleweed passed me by. My knees were throbbing and my feet had filed a formal protest. I had consoled myself that at least there were no more hills. Until I reached the bridge. That damn bridge had the steepest incline yet. I tried to jog, up the bridge; being the last mile and all, but the body had refused to follow the mind's instruction. The only thing keeping the body moving was the knowledge that no more movement would be required after the finish line. I finished the race at 2 hours and 24 minutes. I was so relieved that I practically cried. I am overwhelmed that I was able to do it and although I am still surviving the aftereffects of the race, I can’t believe I did. I now know what I need to do and what to expect for my next 1/2 marathon and hopefully have a bit more insight for my future marathon. I will also try to follow my own suggestions about knowing the course & pacing myself.

Train-rain-train & more rain...

It's spring in Oregon. What does that mean? Small breaks of sunshine or hope as I like to call, them break through the constant drizzle of those last remnants of winter’s rain. Spring also brings my first 1/2 marathon. The Race for the Roses is taking place April 5th and I have just a bit of fear in my heart. With two weeks left before the big race I have time to complete my training. Today I ran the insane distance of 11 miles. My body responded wonderfully, but my mind continued to protest the entire time. Small tweaks of the knee or ankle are to be expected. The occasional side stitch is well known, as well as producing enough sweat to soak the death valley - all these physical thing are well known and understood by me. But the mind is truly evil. Will I be able to run this distance outside? Is the treadmill lying to me and I have really only completed 5 miles to the 11 it’s stating? Is my IPod Nike+ rounding up my miles (they do, by they way). My poor mother, who is flying out to see this historic event; what the hell is she going to do for 3 hours while I run around Portland?! Doubt is plaguing me. I will continue to run and proceed with my training. I still want to run that marathon - but all this running is getting just a tad bit old. And when do I hit the point when I can eat anything I want and be thin?! Hopefully this race will inspire me; much like my other first distance races did. Either way I'll still get my t-shirt and get to hang with mom - not a bad deal!

Shamrock Run 2009

This year I had the honor to run with an amazing group of people at the 2009 Shamrock Run in Portland, OR. Raymond, Sarah, Lisa and Christopher braved the rain, wind, cold and early morning hours all for the pure joy of running on Portland's city streets. It was for most their first 5K run and I was overjoyed to have witnessed it. Here's to my peeps! Thank you & much love - Chris

Clarity or Insanity? Try both...

After completing my second race I was on a ‘runner’s high’ so to speak. Elated that I had surpassed my goals (shocked to have even accomplished them, really), I wanted to continue to train and find greater challenges. But I also don't want to burn out or try to compare myself to runner who have been running since birth. I needed to impress upon myself that this was a journey I was taking for my physical and to a great extent inner self. But I do have to admit that the physical benefits can be pretty good.
I love the way that running is redefining my body. Let me be clear. I not loosing weight. Crazy hunh? All that running and with little to no weight loss?! Yep. But I was trimming up in ways I never though would be possible - without some serious cash, a plastic surgeon and recovery time. I was becoming stronger and every breath felt more deeper and purposeful. I bet you I can inhale a kumquat. My thighs are trimming up and becoming more slender and powerful. And my butt. Ahhh. Let me tell you about my butt. Overall size remains the same, but the shape is a huge improvement. I no longer have the wall-of-ass as I liked to think of it. It has a serious curve. Jeans which I refused to wear before because I hated the way they made my butt look - now look good! My mood has improved. I can’t really explain it but somehow I have become even tempered and honestly happier since taking up the sport. I have become content in my skin. Oh, there are things I would like to improve, but now I don’t have that burning sense of urgency or remorse because some part of me isn’t up to snuff. I also have a greater sense of what I want out of life. Somehow sweating has brought me clarity. Amazing what allot of movement and an alien parasite can do for you! Now I am an adict. I can't stop. Plus, if I had to save myself from a charing rino, I could possibly out run it. Well maybe if it was lame...

Now I have a personal goal of completing a marathon for 2009. Wish me luck. I have my eyes set on one in particular, but there are always more races to be run...

Here is my race History so far:
The Shamrock Run (5K) - PDX
The Bridge to Bridge to Brews (8K) - PDX
The Starlight Run (5K) – PDX
The Human Race (10K) - PDX

Future Races:
2009 The Shamrock Run (5K) – PDX
The Race for the Roses (1/2 marathon) – PDX
A Marathon – to be determined…

Wish me luck! And oxygen at the finish line!

B2B and Back Again

I had just completed my first race. My goal for the year was to complete a (singular) 5K, but I had my heart set on the Bridge to Bridge (B2B). The B2B has an 8K race, but no 5K. In my excitement I had told everyone and I mean everyone, I was going to run the B2B. So in a long standing tradition of mine; I sucked it up. I would run 2 races in 2008. This time I drove the course and realized quickly that as picturesque as the bridges were, they were nothing but man-made inclines. Great. Now not only do I have to prepare for a longer run, but one with inclines. I was terrified. But I had already registered and my forty-some dollars for the registration fee was non-refundable. My sentence was set and there was no chance of parole. So I ran at an incline for three weeks to prepare. Race day I recruited a friend who I told I needed for her emotional support. In reality I wanted someone there to identify my body. This race was almost 5 miles! Who in their right mind would run that distance?! I managed to eat a light breakfast of a banana – which due to my nervousness tasted almost identical coming up as it did going down. I made sure to have my trusty I-Pod and my newest gadget with me. My Nike +. Oh, how I loved my Nike +! It tracks my miles, speed, and goals. It’s like when the teacher gave you a foil star in class for a job well done. You could have built a nuclear power plant for show & tell, but it meant nothing if you didn’t get your star. The reviews states how incredibly accurate the device was in determining your miles. We arrive at the race after looking for parking for 30 minutes. It’s insane to think that all these people drive to run in a race that is most likely a longer distance than the drive from their houses to the race. We get to the start line just in time for me to realize that I have to pee. Again, thousands are in attendance and there appear to be 4 port-a-potties (okay, maybe more - but at time all I could realize was there were not enough!). No time to pee the race is about to begin in about 7 minutes. In the fine tradition of my people; I suck it up. I set my I-Pod for an 8K distance. I am ready. The race starts and we being the slow shuffle dance across the starting line. Something I didn’t realize was that this race was a walk/run. Which means that there are people WALKING! Slowly! Nothing is worse, than having someone slowly shuffle in front of you when your tying to get your motivation and average pace up. And they were TALKING! I had my very first on foot road rage moment. I started darting around the walkers, while also trying not to out pace my average speed. We approach the big hill on the way to the first of two bridges in the race. This hill is steep. The kind of steep that makes you nervous about parking facing down hill. I crest the hill, slightly winded, but for the most part feeling good. The walkers are behind me and now I have space around me for the first time. The Steele Bridge is the first you cross and I realize that as amazing as it is to run over this bridge and to see all of downtown Portland ahead of you, I begin to wish they had closed the entire bridge for the event. Cars are racing down the opposite lane of traffic spewing their fumes. Nothing like increasing your lung capacity to suck in exhaust. This was minor though in the knowledge that I was doing something that I never thought I would ever, ever be able to due. Run. The day was crisp with morning and I felt great. I spy a runner who is about to pass me. He looks sharp. He has the complete matching Nike outfit. He has on the $200+ running shoes I saw recently at the sporting goods store (Nike, of course). And is calves; his calves looked like they were carved by some long dead roman sculptor. He had on these sporty Ray-Ban glasses – again perfectly matching the outfit. He was a thin, toned and just fantastic. Not really my type, but he looked like a running god to me. “Wow”, I thought, "I bet he is going to finish this race in like 20 minutes." I see him pass me and mentally wish him well. Halfway through the race I see Mecca. A rest station with port-a-potties! I pause and wait in line to relieve myself, grab some water and continue on my run. I figure I won’t finish this race with record speed, but I am going to finish – alive. A better result than I expected. As I am crossing the second bridge, I see the running god pass me again! Oh, what happened to my running god! Did you fall? How did I pass you and not noticed? Wait, I even stopped for a potty break! I must call Hell when I get home and see how the snowballs are faring. After crossing the bridge and rounding the final bend, my Nike + chimes in, “Congratulations! You’ve just completed your 8K!” As I am about ready to cheer to my own success, I see a mile marker ahead of me; 0.5 miles till the finish line. “Liar! Dirty filthy liar! Stupid Nike +!”, I think. Fear sets in. What if I during my training, I have been running less than I thought and now my body is going to explode because it wasn’t ready for this! Too late now, I have to complete this race. Anyway I have to pee again. With that I finish my race and claim my prize; breakfast at the original “Original Pancake House” and use a proper bathroom.

My First Race

I choose the Bridge to Bridge (B2B) 5K that took place in April in Portland, Oregon. I told EVERYONE, I would be running in that race. I began stepping up my training working towards mastering my 3+ miles before the race. I was feeling inspired and frankly successful. That is until I went to register with the race. That year’s event did not include a 5K. I was in an utter panic. Their shortest race was an 8K; 4.97 miles. WTF! I was still working on getting to 3.107 miles at a stint and they want almost 5! I was determined to run the B2B. I needed an “ice breaker” race, something to boost my confidence. I selected the 2008 Shamrock Run. That race had a 5K run and was a month before the B2B. I had double checked the course this time!

The Shamrock Run is a fun, all inclusive race that benefits a local charity. Taking place right before St. Patty’s day, I thought this would be the perfect way to prove to myself that I could run the B2B; my new nemesis.

Here is a quick overview of my first race:
I woke up late; no time for breakfast. I went to the race wearing bright green sweat pants and a Guinness Sweatshirt. I thought I would look so festive! After all, who could have come up with a more ingenious outfit to run a race themed for the Irish? How about the 16,000 other participants?! The race starts at 8:05 AM. The temperature is about 30 degrees. Lots and lots of people wearing festive Irish theme crap over their Nike outfits. All those participating in the run are huddled at the race line. The race horn starts. You see hundreds of people begin to slowly shuffle over starting line. I had thought when I heard the horn that we would be off! But to avoid the possible stampede we all shuffle as if we are all in mutual agreement. As the crowd disperses, I am starting to get around more and more people. I start to feel pretty cocky. “These people are barely even hoofing it! Come on people! Move it or loose it!” I think. I start to feel the effects of my running, but I have been running for less than 5 minutes. I try to pace myself. I can accept that exceptionally fit people are going to pace me. Very youthful people too, have the leeway to pass me. As my breathing is starting to return to normal, I spot her out of the corner of my eye. She has that silver hair that is almost purple. Her wrinkles are so deeply worn I bet you could find lost articles in them. Oh sure, she is fit and thin, but she has to be close to eighty and she is closing on me – FAST. I begin to pick up speed. I’ll be damned; if someone with a hip replacement is going to pass me. I may be a beginner runner, but I am not eighty! Although I have picked up the pace and again my breathing is ragged, the gap between us is closing. She still has on her reading glasses! I start to make fast dashes into the crowd ahead of me. “If she is going to pass me, then I wont have to watch her do it”, I think. But no, she is tailing me! I have become her 'rabbit'. As we round the second bend of the course, we approach another obstacle I didn’t train for. A huge fucking hill. Back in my training on the treadmill, ever hear of me saying I ran at an elevation of blah blah blah? Nope – not once. Today would be a day of first. Determined (stupid, really) I sprint as fast as I could up the hill. That old bird will never be able to keep up with me now. I was sucking air like a coke fiend at a Studio 54. I started to look around, “I beat her! She is so far behind me, I can’t even see her! Ha!” I thought. That is when all triumph and joy left me. I spotted her in a gap in the crowd. I was about a fourth of the way up the hill and she, ‘Old Blue Hair’, was cresting the fucking hill. I continue to run. But now my legs are refusing to pump and my lungs have left my body for a more restful place. Unable to run another step, I attempt to power walk up the remaining of the hill. All those people I passed at the beginning of the race? Please enter humbleness here. Thankfully the top of the hill came and the remainder of the course was downhill, so I could begin my much slower run again. I was convinced that my race time would be forty-five to sixty minutes. I finished in just over 29 minutes.

As with most things, I learned some important lessons after completing my first race.

1. Study the course! Know where the hills are and fear them;
2. Plan your outfit. Prepare to be freezing (if spring), then while running hot & sweaty and finish by being sweaty & with more freezing;
3. Figure out how you are getting to and from the race. Although this came as a shock to me – THOUSANDS of people attend these races and about half of them DRIVE to the race;
4. Eat a breakfast that is easy on the tummy (very light). Heart burn never feels good, especially when running (but farting is forgiven - only if outside);
5. Pace yourself. Someone older, less fit, with one leg is going to pass you. They may even give you the stink eye for slowing them down. Don’t sprint your first race, unless you like the feeling of affixation;
6. You will feel like your running in slow motion. People will pass you (Mr. Peg-leg). Don’t panic. You are most likely running faster than normal.

Training Dayz

I was progressing well through my pod-cast training, although how anyone can progress from one week to the next was beyond me. I stayed at week 5 for 4 weeks! I finally broke at week 7. I had been at the week 7 pod-cast for about 3 weeks when I realized that I hated – no, HATED the urban tribal techno playing in the background and that the narrator’s voice which I at first found upbeat and inspiring, was now an unwelcome prompt for me to run more, faster, and with better form – ever chipper and driving me to wonder about the man who created this insane form of punishment. I realized then, why you where supposed to push yourself to progress from one pod-cast week to the next, least you risk a severe case of rage inspired insanity. I never could bring myself to listen to weeks 8 & 9. I would not let this deter me from finishing a 5K race, however. I needed to test out my ability. I made a goal and decided that I would run one (1) 5K in 2008.

Giggle, Wiggle & Wobble

The first pod-cast was deceptively easy. Walk briskly for several minutes run for a minute, return to walking, run for 90 seconds, walk, run a minute and finally finish by walking to cool down. Total time on treadmill – 35 minutes. Not to say I didn’t find this challenging – just I wasn’t experiencing the heart pounding, side tearing, breathless exertion I was anticipating. You repeated this pod-cast 3 times in a single week then progressed to week two – wherein he increased the time running and decrease the time walking. This continues all through the pod-casts, until you hit weeks where there are long continuous runs starting around 25 minutes and progressively getting longer as the weeks progress. Something happens to a person when they run for anything longer than 5 minutes. They feel the vibration of body parts giggle and in some incidents (larger parts) wobble in a ways they have never moved before. I was convinced that if by no other means my love handles would simply vibrate right off my body along with ruling majority of my ass. But thankfully these thoughts did not persist long, because another concern was suddenly brought to my attention. Apparently I was a host for some kind of parasitic alien. I knew this be true, because due to all the shaking I was undergoing, it had become angry and was responding by causing the sharp pain in my side. You might call it a “side stitch”, but this pain moved from one side to another and was relentless. Thus, obliviously alien in nature. I was determined to complete my first long run. I firmly told the alien to “quit it!” ignoring the odd looks from the other gym goers. My list of aliments however, doesn’t end there. I had suddenly become asthmatic. Seeing my reflection in the window in front of me, I could see my face was deeply red, beginning to look a bit purple around the edges. I was huffing and puffing, but couldn’t get any air in. My pony tail was at an angle (not on purpose), I was dripping sweat (just gross), and then the minor fact that I couldn’t breathe. I finished my run, marking a top speed of 4.5 mph on the treadmill and collapsed on the floor in the stretching area. My legs were J-E-L-L-O, but honestly I was proud of my accomplishment. Next time, I would try it without crying.

The Pod-Cast from Hell

I had purchased an I-Pod to provide some much needed musical inspiration. Although I had heard and knew what the term “pod-cast” was, I'd never actually heard one. While surfing I-Tunes I came across a free pod-case called, “Couch to 5K”. I was intrigued. One it was free, two it promised to bring you from your couch to a 5K race in nine weeks and three I had just moved to a new state where I knew no one, was poor and had an abundance of free time. In the back of my mind I was mulling over the idea of running a 5K. But honestly I had no idea what a kilometer was. Was it a mile, more than a mile, less? I never paid attention in math class and again that oversight was biting me in the butt. I really never thought that I would ever be able to run that distance, however long it was. But this pod-cast had a pleasant sounding narrator and upbeat techno music. I reminded myself that this was not gym class and there would be no jeering audience or pushy gym teacher to see me fail. So I began my training.

The Beginning

I am not a natural athlete. If fact, most of my life I have struggled with being overweight. That struggle dominated my life and in some ways still does. It colored my view of the world and how I believed others perceived me. In my early twenties I was able to get my weight down from over 300+ to a respectable 145. I did this through a very strict and stupid diet and occasional exercise. I weighed 145 for approximately 6 minutes. What a glorious 6 minutes they were! Since then my weight bounced around from 165 to 180. In late 2006, I found myself back up to 200+ pounds. I was pissed! I’ve been here before and it sucks. Determined to loose weight and trim up, I decided to do the unthinkable and run.