Like a Ninja

Fall may be the best timeof year to run, but for me it can be the hardest. Come October, I am suiting up for an extended campaign of school, work, sports, birthdays and holidays. From now until January, there is not a moment to spare; with the daylight diminshing , finding a way to get in a run is way harder than the actual run.

The enemy wants to retake this ground from me, but I will not yield it - no matter how tired or poorly equipped I may feel.

Yesterday was the perfect day to run. It was a clear, cool Sunday. Sunday should be slow and relaxing, but in our house it is multiple trips to church for services, classes, play practice, and youth groups. We also require this time on weekends to tend to the basic needs of our household: groceries, laundry, housekeeping, etc. Saturday was full of football, apple picking and shopping. By the time I got home, I opted for the glass of wine instead of the run. I had no choice now, I had to get my long run in on Sunday.

I prepared, knowing that I would be facing waning motivation. I made sure to eat and drink appropriately. I immediately changed into my running gear right after church so that I was ready to walk out the door and run at any open interval. I kept telling myself: It’s always about starting. Once you start, you are fine. I knew I could overcome the lure of the nap if I just stepped outside.

But the enemy knows our weakness, that soft unprotected spot we think noone else notices.

Husband: Are you going for a run?

Me: Yes.

Husband: Hmm. Well, your hair looks so good today. It’s a shame to mess it up running.

Dang! I never even saw it coming. I had prepared for the assaults of fuel, hydration, fatigue, time restraints, gear – but never did I think I would have to defend my hair – my Achilles heel.

This is why I train: to defend myself from these stealth, ninja-like attacks. I ducked. I ran.

And I ran.

Anatomy of a Meltdown

Or How Running Prevented a Quadruple Homicide.

Saturday morning I was to meet up with my running group for our long run of the week. We were to meet at 6:30am. Did I mention this was Saturday? I’d been out with a friend Friday night to see a play to which I had  been long looking forward, but I didn’t get home until midnight (way past my customary 9:30 bedtime).

It started at 4am – the waking, looking at the clock every half hour, trying to decide what time I really needed to get up. At 6am I made the decision that I would not get up to meet my running group. I drifted back to sleep. I didn’t feel relieved at letting myself off the hook, I felt defeated.

About an hour and a half later, I became aware of my husband curled behind me, spooning. This should have felt safe and lovey, but instead it felt predatory. (This has nothing to do with my husband - just scars of injuries past that become inflamed without warning.)

Moments later, the other man in my life appeared. “Mommy, can I snuggle?” So I moved over to be sandwiched between the two in our wholly inadequate double bed. In short order the middle child padded in and curled up at the end of the bed on my feet while the dog became increasing ly frantic, racing from one side of the bed to the other trying to find a gap he could jump into.

Thus I enter consciousness under siege, like a soldier awakened by incoming rounds. I started flailing around and hollering for everyone to Get. Off. Me. and finally managed to extricate myself. I left everyone behind thinking, “Why is she rejecting me?” The truth is that it couldn’t be any less about them.

I head into the living room/kitchen/great room - an area that is being secured by the National Park Service as a monument to chaos and disorder. I make my coffee and assume my position for my daily morning ritual of study, prayer and contemplation. This practice is essential for me and the reason I get up so early. I need that half hour before anyone else in the house is up, but since I have slept late, I have missed my window. Instead, my study time is punctuated with distractions and demands.

As I start briefing everyone on the day’s schedule and what needs to happen to make it all possible, I feel myself getting tighter than a piano wire. I stop what I am doing and say, “I am going for a run. You all have approximately 1 hour and fifteen minutes to do something that will not make me want to burn your flesh off with my eyes.”

Had I stayed any longer, I would have had a classic meltdown involving any of the following: yelling, shaming, belittling, martydom, condescension, hysteria, and tears (theirs or mine). Instead, it took 50 minutes of running before my meltdown occured in the form of rivulets of sweat streaming down my face. I literally left it all on the road.

Paying it Forward

This morning I had a little “show and tell” time with my running group. This was hard for me. Even though I am feeling pretty proud of what I’ve accomplished over the last year and a half, it is still hard to look at those pictures – and embarassing to share them.

I posted this on Facebook last night: “Getting ready to share some of my ‘before’ pictures with my running group. Even my kids don’t recognize the ‘old’ me.” One of my high school friends (that I haven’t seen since high school) asked, “What was wrong with the old you?” Gosh, what to say? He hadn’t seen the wreckage of the in-between years.

 The “original” me was a girl that was pretty bold and confident, despite never recalling a time I wasn’t acutely aware of my weight. I was cute enough, smart, popular, captain of the cheerleading squad – all with the pluck of one who may have been genetically burdened with short legs, thick thighs and wide hips, but wasn’t going to be held back by them.

Then some years of hard livin’, poor choices, plummeting self-esteem, and babies – all those damn  babies – and the “original” me disappeared inside the “old” me. One of my dear running ladies asked, “Don’t you feel like a new person?” My answer was, “No, actually, I feel like who I used to be,”  the point being: I feel more like my authentic self.

So it’s not about being fat all my life and then thin, or thin-then-fat-then-thin-again, or fat and not quite so fat now. I run to move closer to who I really am. I coach and write and share my experiences – funny, embarrassing, painful, hopeful, triumphant – for only one reason: gratitude. I’m not exceptional or genetically gifted or the great overcomer. I’m just a woman willing to let it all hang out in the hope that someone else will find the courage to run or walk towards her real self again.

What’s Your Excuse?

OK – I have to admit that the marketing minds at Nike so get me. I love this ad!! And truly, as I’ve said many, many times, if I can do this, you can do this.

Have you got boobs? Then you’ve got a dog in this fight.

We had an awesome Survivor Saturday this past weekend at the Womens 4 Miler Training Program. Two breast cancer survivors spoke of their personal battles with this disease. There was Patty, a young woman who truly didn’t fit any high risk profile. Even her doctors were skeptical that the lump she found could be anything but benign. Then there was Louise, a woman with a compelling family history of cancer who regrettably let her annual mammogram appointment lapse. She gave us all fair warning not to do the same. Their stories serve as powerful lessons of both warning and hope, and we are blessed by their generosity and celebrate their happy outcomes.

Let me lay a few facts on you:

• One in eight women or 12.6% of all women will get breast cancer in her lifetime.
• Breast cancer risk increases with age and every woman is at risk.
• Every 13 minutes a woman dies of breast cancer.

I had never given a lot of thought to breast cancer. I had no family history, except for my great grandmother who was diagnosed in her mid 90s. I mean at that age, it’s gotta be something, right? But here’s one that really blew me away:

• Women who have a first-degree relative (mother, daughter, sister) have a risk of breast cancer 2 to 4 times greater than average. [BUT...]
• Genetically inherited forms of breast cancer only comprise about 5 to ten percent of breast cancers cases overall.

Whoa! So having a family history of breast cancer may put you in a higher risk category, but not having a family history of breast cancer really doesn’t afford me any “GET OUT OF CANCER FREE” passes? Maybe I should be taking this whole deal a little more seriously.

I didn’t believe I had too many risk factors aside from poor diet, smoking, alcohol abuse, obesity and having my first baby as an “old” lady (30!). During the course of my own personal wellness journey, I got involved with the Women’s 4 Miler which revolves around education and fundraising for the UVA Breast Care Center.  I started running because I wanted to lose weight; I trained with the W4MTP because it was a kind, safe, and proven training program for women like me.

All that breast cancer stuff was incidental to me, but I started hearing some of these startling statistics, and more importantly, I came to know and love too many women who were in the fight of their lives, or who were survivors, or who had lost a loved one to this disease. For me, it has gone beyond statistically scary to downright heartbreaking.

I know now, that even though I may be doing all the right things, I am not immune to the vagaries of cancer. So for myself and for every friend, mother, sister, daughter, aunt, and grandmother out there, I have committed to run for prevention education, better detection, better treatments, and a cure.

So if you have breasts, you have something at stake. Take care of yourself, get your mammograms, and do your monthly breast self exam. If you know and love someone with breasts, this issue is yours as well.  

References:

cancer.org

cancerfacts.com

UVa Breast Care Center

May You Be Encouraged

This morning God smiled upon me (even though I was skipping church) with another spectacular, glorious day of clear skies, warm sun, cool breezes – perfect early morning running conditions.

As a runner, I go about my work quietly. I prefer to run alone. I used to be terribly self-conscious about running out in the world – fearful even – but I’ve discovered a lovely comraderie amongst those hearty souls that “just do it”. I live in a neighborhood with a good number of other runners and cyclists, and I love when they wave or give a little shout-out of encouragement.

“Looking good!”

“Good work!”

“Way to go!”

I mean, where else can you go and get that? No one EVER walks by my desk while I’m coaching one of my sales people and shouts, “Looking good!” I never get a thumbs up and “Way to go!” as I’m poring over sales reports and spread sheets.

So this morning, I was running towards an oncoming cyclist. I was wearing my favorite t-shirt – the one that says: “Training is the opposite of hoping” and my hat that says: “Life is good.” The cyclist came nearer, a smile spreading broadly across her face. There was that moment of acknowledgement, the looks exchanged that say we understand each other, we are of the same tribe. Then she went one step further: she put her hand out in a high five gesture.

Now, I’ve done this with my training group as we pass each other on the road or wave each other across the finish line, but this was different. Here was a stranger, on a bicycle, extending her arm and her joy to me! I extended my own hand to meet her’s in a solid, satisfying smack! as we passed each other. I don’t know if I can adequately give words to what I felt then, but I had an idiot’s grin on my face for another 3 miles – all the way home. It’s amazing how far a little encouragement can go.

There is no wagon.

I wish I could claim the following as my own original idea, but I have to give credit to my dear, funny, wise WeightWatchers leader Denise for this inspiration.

Have you ever tried to do something hard? Like stop smoking, lose weight, start running or make your bed every day (well, that’s hard for me)?

When your new habit or discipline fails, you might say, “I fell off the wagon.”

So here’s the question: If you fell off the wagon, where were you sitting? Too close to the edge?

If you weren’t too close to the edge, then the question is: Who’s driving the wagon?

What is it you want to achieve? How do you think you will get there? Are you waiting and hoping the wagon will come by?

I’ve got news for you: There is no wagon. There is only right now. Turn in the direction of your desire and start walking (or running). Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Run the Race Marked Out for YOU

Let us throw off everything that hinders … and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.
~Hebrews 12:1

This week marks the first time some W4MTP participants will leave the safe confines of the track and head out on the road. Some of you may be glad for it – going round and round on that track can be BORING! If you are like me, however, leaving the track can be scary.

The track is safe, measured, predicatable and FLAT! The road – not so much.

Hitting the road is an important milestone for a new runner. It will teach you a lot about freedom and adventure and pushing your limits, but one of the most powerful lessons you will learn about running – and life – you learn on the track.

On the track, everyone starts in the same place. The crowd moves out and around the oval, everyone settling into their pace, marking their laps. You will find that sometimes you are in crowd jockeying for position, and sometimes you are on your own for a stretch. After a few laps, it’s impossible to tell who is ahead or behind. All you can do is run your course.

Your journey is uniquely your own. There will always be someone ahead and someone behind. Sometimes you will be in the middle of the pack and sometimes you will have to go it alone. You can’t keep count of everyone else’s laps, only your own. If you can embrace this idea, you will be set free to be who you really are, free to look forward, free to slow down, free to reach out to others on your path who need a word of encouragement or instruction, free dig deep and find out what you are really made of, free to fly.

Why I Run

Saturday was my debut as a running coach.

So I’m out on the road with my group for their first one mile run. I pull up alongside one woman to check in. We chit chat a little and she asks me, “So why do you do this?”

I wasn’t quite ready for that question. You’d think that as prone to introspection as I am, I might have a ready answer for this one. My reply? “Well, I used to be 100 lbs overweight, and now I’m not.”

I couldn’t believe I just said that out loud. Not only was it rather blunt and inelegant, but it was startlingly honest in a way I didn’t think I could be. And I think she understood that I really wasn’t talking about running for weight management.

I’ve thought a lot about what I’ve gained from running – all the benefits, growth and “character building” opportunities it has afforded me. Running may have started out as a tool in my weight loss efforts, but both the weight loss and the running have become larger than wanting lose pounds and dress sizes. They have become instrumental in regaining a sense of who I really am, what I’m really made of. The strategies I employ in running I apply in almost every other area of my life: boldly pursuing a vision, setting and achieving a goal by putting one foot in front of the other, getting the right support system and team in place, knowing when to push harder and when to rest, ordering my life so that all its components support my larger objective.

I am awake now. I run to keep from becoming numb and drowsy and disoriented. I don’t ever want to forget who I am again.

You never know how far one step can take you.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one small step.

When I was looking for some inspirational/motivational quotes to share with my new four-miler trainees, this classic Chinese proverb seemed apt for new walkers and runners. It’s very common to be intimidated by the thought of running four miles, especially if you’ve never been a runner. Even as a walker, it may seem way out of reach when the longest trek you routinely make is from the car to the door of your house or office or grocery store.

I was thinking I’d start out with something like this: You may not be going for 1000 miles, but 4 miles may feel that far away to you now.

Then I started thinking, “How many miles have I actually logged over the last year?”

As a middle aged, middle distance, moderately paced (and that’s generous) runner, I have logged about 600 miles since I started my journey a year ago. That means that should you choose to stick with a moderate plan of running 3-4 days per week, 2-4 miles per day, you could easily make your journey of 1000 miles in two years. That’s really pretty amazing.

And it all begins with that first step. No effort is too small, especially when applied deliberately and consistently. You can go as far as you please if you just keep putting one foot in front of the other.