Tag Archives: running

Broken.

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On April 28 2013 I broke my foot during the Nike All Women’s half marathon in Washington DC. It’s been almost two weeks. The foot is healing, it’s in a boot, I’m on crutches, and I feel like my best friends are going on a vacation without me.  

It was going to be a great race, I could feel it. The energy at the start line was high and strong.

Buzzing start line

At the half mile mark I ran through a tunnel crowded with thousands of other runners. One of them stepped on my left foot. I fell, got up, and fell again.

Roar.
I finished the race, and I ran 12 miles on a broken foot. But now I can’t run for at least another 10 weeks.

urgent care leg

I may swim in 4 weeks, and maybe get on a bike trainer. I do the math every day–when I can run again, when I can train for my races this year. But I’m not racing in a fun Mother’s Day triathlon with my best lady friends this Sunday. Deep breath.

My 2013 race schedule  included my first marathon. I had a plan damn it. Later this year, I was going to meet Other Me. Super woman me, in super woman shape, who attacked all these races. Roar!

Head strong.
My Ironman brother tells me injuries like this are part of racing and training. And that it had to happen to me sooner or later. And he’s right. He’s nursed many injuries himself, and he’s come back strong each time. Think Ironman. He also is so Zen when faced with crap like injuries. I always aspire to be like him, and not just when I race. He once told me that when I decide to race the longer distances, I better have answers to all the questions my head will be asking me when I’m struggling in the last 10 miles. I better get started.

The new training plan.
My plan was to get my body in super strong shape this year. Muscles, roaring, leaping over tall buildings, that kind of thing. It’s too early to tell if in August, I will be able to swim in beautiful Lake Arrowhead and run up those crazy steps to T1 at Luray. Or if in September, I will rack my bike in the biggest triathlon transition area in the country. And it’s hard to admit that I simply may not be able to run my first marathon this October.  Deep breath.

So the running and racing goddesses are taking me on a detour. Their plan for me in 2013 is to put my head in training, not my body. My head needs to be in super strong shape this year. It has to be strong enough to believe that whatever happens in the healing process this year, I can and will come back stronger. That’s the Other Me I hope to meet later this year.

And when I do race again, I will remember to pack my health insurance card in my race bag.

Overflow.

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I’ve deliberately avoided putting my fingers to the keyboard for months. Any and all threateningly powerful emotions have been very neatly put away in a box. I’m experiencing an overflow. And they are all demanding attention. Kabanga. Newtown. Boston.

Boston. Running has taken me on a journey I never knew I could or would want to take. Running allows me to be free from whatever I choose. I meditate when I run. Running taught me about pain and the meaning of being strong. Racing is when I get to be with thousands who share my joy and my pain. It’s a time to celebrate our collective journey. It is a time to contemplate and enjoy where we are, how we got there, and hopefully where we will be going next. I can’t imagine running this weekend’s race or any other race without thinking about Boston. I can’t imagine what my journey will be like this year when I run in my first marathon in October. I’ve lost something—like dropping a glove in the throng of runners at the start line. I can’t retrieve it.

Newtown. When children are killed, they become my own. And those other children who witnessed the massacre? They were mine too. For a long time I was a grieving parent mourning the loss of my child. I was a parent shielding my child from the scarring images that forever will burn in her head. Saleha said to me the night of Newtown, “Mama, please don’t imagine you were a parent of one of those kids.” I told her I couldn’t help it. She said she couldn’t help it either.

Kabanga. When I arrived, it was so different, yet so… familiar. It took me a few days to realize that I felt like I was home. The landscape, the small kampung-like houses, and the people’s wonderful hospitality and generosity. But every day at the school I was with children with bleak futures. We all did as much as we could, realizing that each evening when we left the children to go back to our safe and clean house, many would sleep in rooms filled with stench from an overflowing sewer. And wake up to armed guards, not hugs from moms and dads… But each day, we did give hugs and love. As much as we could. But. How dare we complained about a missing toilet seat in our bathroom. How dare we complained about that smell that permeated everything we wore. How dare we complained about not having anything to do. How dare we complained about ANYTHING.

Sometimes, there just aren’t answers to the sadness. Okay. Back in the box. For now.

Yoga on my mind

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Last week, I almost wept in my yoga class. Nothing hurt. No twisting, bindings or inversions (I’m terrified of inversions). No pulled muscles or ligaments. No injuries.

.

.

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I’m hesitating as I write this, because I’m still grappling with why I fought back tears during the closing sun salutations.

I am relatively new to yoga. An injury last year was the final push I needed after years of saying, “when will I find the time?” Yoga is now a critical part of my running/triathlon training regime. It is a conduit to achieve more flexibility, balance and strength. Until about 3 months ago, yoga was simply a way to take care of my body, to ensure racing longevity. And in the 9 months I’ve been practicing yoga weekly, my body is thanking me. And now, it seems my mind wants some of the action too.

A few weeks ago, I found myself reverting to Shavasana at night when I can’t sleep. I also started to set my intentions before each run or swim just as I do before a yoga class. Then last week I found myself weeping in my husband’s arms when I got home from my yoga class.

Sarah Lynn, my yoga instructor and owner of Journey Yoga, is a very lively and active instructor – often playing music I would love for my running playlist. She’s passionate and energetic. If you’re looking for a quiet and gentle yoga class, Sarah Lynn is not the instructor for you. Last week, however, it was a quiet class. There was no music. No loud chatter, just thoughtful instruction. We were asked to simply engage or activate various muscles during the practice that would in turn elicit a reaction from other muscles in the body. Shoulders, back, legs, hands, arms, you name it.

During class, Sarah Lynn helped us with visualizations and regular reminders to breathe. And reminders that it’s okay to underachieve. That it’s okay not to work our muscles as hard as we possibly can. About half way through the class, my movements became more fluid, my poses were more balanced and strong, and my stretches were deeper than usual. Sweat was streaming out of every pore in my body. As we went through the last few sets of sun salutations, a tsunami of emotions moved up my feet and through my whole body. I wanted to sob. I almost did.

Why? I don’t really know. It took me by surprise. This practice was easy, yet so hard. The hard parts (consciously using all my muscles) made the balancing and poses seem easy, fluid and strong. On the drive home, so many images and emotions flashed through my mind — like fast-forwarding a movie. What continues to stand out in my mind is the journey to achieve my goal with running, racing, triathlon-ing… and all the training that exhausts me, frustrates me yet thrills me. But I don’t know what my actual goal is, or where my journey is taking me. Is it really okay to underachieve? Or not work as hard as I possibly can?

Oh this is cheesy as heck, I know. But I can’t shake how I felt that night. And I still don’t really know what it meant. Or why I think it’s supposed to mean something. Or anything for that matter.

But whatever it was, I think I may have started another journey.

Thank you Sarah Lynn.

You Decide

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Last weekend Scot and I celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary at this small restaurant that delivered intimacy on a rainy night with lots of delicious promise in a cozy dining room. That night, thousands of yummy flavors and textures exploded in my mouth and my mind, lingering there still, many days later.

At some point, I lost count how many little dishes came out for the antipasti and primi. Eight? Nine? And the wine, oh the wine. All pre-selected and paired perfectly for us. Did I mention flavor explosions? My toes were twitching, it was so good.

The experience was perfect because I didn’t have to decide on anything. I didn’t have to choose. I just had to decide if I wanted fish, quail or pork for my secondi (easy!). I felt so free. Little tasty surprises showed up at our table every 10-15 minutes. Someone decided that morning what I was going to eat. I was so happy I wanted to giggle all night long.

While I was trying (and failing) to make this delicious morsel last forever — this melt-in-your mouth gorgeous ivory white soft cheese that sat in a perfect cradle of olive oil — I said to Scot:

I can’t wait for the day I can just cook or eat what I want, and not have to plan, decide, choose what is good and healthy for the family.

With growing kids, my cooking brain thinks in three parts: healthy protein, good carbs, lots of vegetables/fruit. Making the best choices possible can be a burden. Because sometimes, all I want to eat is a bowl of cereal. Or make that super spicy fish curry, or that delicious eggplant lamb dish I haven’t made in ages because the kids wouldn’t go for it. So I try to choose well. EVERY DAY. Not just with food, but with life. Choices and decisions. The best ones possible. So tiring sometimes.

So back to this dinner – freedom from decisions and choices was so nice.

The next morning, Scot and I ran in a 10 mile race with 4 other friends. And since I’m a control freak about race days, I laid out our race day logistics days before. The guys gave me lots of good-natured grief at the 5:30am call and my control-freak tendencies — some have never raced with me before. Those who have know better.

Heading home after a great morning of racing and a big post-race breakfast, the guys at the back of the van commented that I was not giving proper directions on the best route home. See what can happen when you make the decision to decide and choose?

So I sat back and let it go.

“Antelmo knows exactly where to go.”

“But wait. Antelmo, turn here so you can drop Pete off first….”

Someone bring me another helping of that yummy octopus and whatever else is on the menu…

Peace?

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Recently I attended a Total Immersion Swimming and Chi Running clinics. I did both with the intention of indulging my laziness – wanting to improve speed and endurance without exerting any more energy than I already am.

Both instructors convinced me that some amount of balance, posture, and relaxation will help improve my swimming or running. Be one with the water and you will swim like a dolphin. Good posture coupled with relaxed arms and legs will help me run forever and ever. I started to imagine I was listening to a yogi sitting on top of a mountain giving advice to triathletes. Seriously.

After an enlightened morning, I realized that both TI Swimming and Chi Running embrace the concept of being at peace with the universe or at least allowing yourself to be one with your environment. When you swim, don’t fight the water, flow with it. When you run, fall into it. Relax. No tight asses in Chi Running. Cue sound of heart beat. Then overlay with deep breathing, and light sound of water or footsteps in the background.  Ohhmmmm. Seriously.

Over the last year, I’ve learned that to be a successful (or at least happy) athlete, your entire body has to be in sync. Putting in hundreds of miles prepping for races and triathlons didn’t hurt my back. A weak core and tight hip flexors did. After years of listening to Beth preach the benefits of yoga, I started yoga. And yoga started me on a different journey. The swim/run clinics also pushed me farther down this road. I’ve learned that it’s not just about “getting a good workout” it’s also about strength and flexibility. And lots of balance — for my body and what’s in my head. And guess what — being at peace with the universe. In this case, being at peace with myself, what I’m doing at that moment (running at 5 friggin’ AM), and being able to embrace the fact that I CAN run and swim and ride. With relatively no pain. Cue happy zen-like music.

Now I have to cross-train to be fit for life. Flow with life and use inner muscles to either move quickly or deal with crap when it gets thrown at me. Be at peace with what comes. Because it just will. Definitely embrace my universe of children and husband. Quiet the mind. Don’t fight it. Fall into it gently. And I can run forever and ever.

Why I do more

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GETTING SHORT
I started running because I was getting shorter. At my annual physical before my 40th birthday, I measured an inch and a half shorter than the previous year (and many years before that). It messed me up. Somehow in a fog of rationale I thought, “If I’m not 5’ 6”, then what else am I not?”

So I started walking, then running. Last time I ran was 20 years before that. Within 6 months, I ran my first 5K with 2 other girlfriends. We had shirts that said “Shut Up and Run.” Before long, I ran a half marathon. Oh, and in addition to the 5am runs, there came the 5am swims and biking in the dark. Now, 4 years, 20 running races and 6 triathlons later, what next? More it seems.

MORE PLEASE
Lately, I’ve been struck (and a little confused) by my desire to keep doing more. To battle my perennial image and weight issues, I lost 15 pounds to prep for the 2012 race season. I am getting stronger and leaner thanks to P90X, and running those hills seem easier. I’m still trying to kick the last 5 pounds or so, but heck, like most women, I’ll never be happy with what the scale says.

But where am I going with all of this? It would be so much easier to NOT do all of this. Sometimes the 4:45am wakeup calls just feel really bad. And I am often tired and cranky by 3pm. And forget sleeping for 8 hours a night. What do I want from all this? A marathon? A half Ironman? Run faster? Swim faster? I am at least 10 times more physically active than when I played team sports in high school. I am in great shape, and I’m healthy. And core, yoga and stretching – are all part of my weekly workout routines. Why doesn’t it feel enough?

MIDLIFE CRISIS
A friend recently said I am going through a midlife crisis. I will be 44 in a few months. So far this year, I have signed up for a 5 miler, a 10 miler, a half marathon, an Olympic Tri, and a Sprint Tri. I will probably do another Century Ride, a few shorter races and hopefully get in the Army 10. Hmm. I DO love how I feel during AND after a run. Swimming has boosted my running in so many ways. And I feel bad ass when I finish a triathlon. Racking up my bike and getting my transition area ready is nerve wracking AND exciting as hell. Open water swimming scares the crap out of me, but I’m hoping to overcome that this year. I love it all. Is that all there is to this? That I love it? I just don’t know.

I do know that I’ve learned a few things over the last 4 years:

• I can do more than I think I can
• If I force myself to run when I don’t want to, I feel really good when I’m done
• There are really good running days, and there are really bad running days
• I thought I was strong until I started yoga
• Stretching is essential to prevent injury
• I love my chiropractor
• I am lazy. I don’t want to expend more effort to increase speed or distance.
• I CAN apparently work out an hour a day, 6 days a week.

Mostly good eh? Oh, and one more: I found another best girlfriend, with whom I never would have done any of this. We push each other, wake each other up for stupid early morning workouts, and have had many heart to heart talks (not related to running, biking or swimming) during, before, after and in between those workouts. I love her dearly for what she has become to me, and for showing me what I can become. Yes Beth, I can squat lower apparently.

BECAUSE I CAN
So what is the lesson here? I do all this because I enjoy feeling strong and bad ass? And because I can? I guess so. Because before long it won’t be my choice. One day, my body is simply going to say, “No more!” I had a taste of that last year and it was a very unhappy and stressful time. I just need to be happy with what I have achieved so far. And go for more. Yes?

YES!