Tag Archives: run

30

Aug. ’13

Cool Story

“Nothing’s better than the wind to your back, the sun in front of you, and your friends beside you.”
– Aaron Douglas Trimble

So.  Wanna hear a cool story?

Ok, see this pic?

MEZOEblog

That’s me on the left.  And on the right is my friend Zoe.  [Isn’t she gorgeous!?]

Ok, so it’s a picture.  No big deal, right?  Just a pic of two chicks who are friends.  Both women, both in the same age range, (both, incidentally, feeling silly taking a ‘selfie’ pic…), both smiling and happy and healthy.  I can hear you now – “Yeah?  So what?”

Ok, so we’re both runners. Is that a tad more interesting?  No?  Ok, how about this….We’re both runners training for a half marathon.  Slightly cooler, right?

Still nothing earth shattering?

Hmmm..  Alright, let’s try this – we’re training for a half marathon together.  Now, is it cool story?   Sure it is.  Two friends training for a half marathon together.  That’s intriguing, no?

Oh shoot.  Silly me.  I almost forgot the most important part.  The part we writers like to call the twist.  You ready?

Zoe lives in Australia.

I live in America.

Yep.  You read that right.

world-map

With 14 time zones, an ocean or two (I sooo didn’t pay attention in Geography class…), and a boat load of cultural differences between us (people use kilometers?  Really?  I know about the 5K and the 10K, but you mean there are others??), Zoe and I are training partners for our half marathon on November 9.

So, how did this all come about?

Well, it’s pretty simple really.  In early May, just a few short months after starting my blog, and just days before my first half marathon, I received my first comment on here that was not from someone I know personally.  It said:

Good luck! From Melbourne, Australia!

I just wanted to let you know how much I’m enjoying your writing- I found you when I was searching running blogs as I’m a new runner myself and totally obsessed. You write so evocatively and thoughtfully, and I often find myself smiling or nodding along to your musings! Best of luck with your half, you’ll smash it!

Warm regards,
Zoë

I’ll never forget how thrilled I was to get that message.  Not only did it make me realize that other people were reading this stuff (besides my ever-loyal friends and family in real life), but someone was actually reading it in Australia!?  What?!  How cool is that?  This message was the first in what would become a banter between two women all the way across the world from each other over the next few months.  And then, when I announced that I would be training for my second half marathon in November, Zoe suggested that we train together.

So, here we are.

We’re only in our first week of training, but I intend to post a few updates along the way to let you know how we’re doing.

Isn’t this great?  Someone way over on the other side of the map is my buddy.  My training partner.  We’ve never laid eyes on each other in person, never heard each others’ undoubtedly cool accents (ok, her cool accent – my southern drawl is nothing much to brag about if you ask me…), and have never even shook hands.  In many ways we’re still strangers, but in many other ways – the ways that matter – we’re friends.

We’re just truly never alone, are we?  No matter how much we may feel like we are at times, something like this reminds us that we’re not.  Somewhere out there, there is someone not only going through whatever you’re going through, but willing to go through it right beside you if you let them.

Yep.  That’s good stuff.

Ok, so now is this a cool story?  😉

And guess what?  It’s just going to get even cooler.  So, stick around!

***

“In union there is strength.”
– Aesop

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Running. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 4 Comments

04

Jun. ’13

Time to Chill

takeabreak

I’m about to do something that I have never done so far in my “career” as a runner.

I’m backing out of a race.

I was scheduled to run the Bear in July.  For those who missed my blog about it, this is a 5-mile race straight up a mountain.  When I signed up for this thing back in February, I knew it was going to be quite a challenge.  I was prepared to put in the training and do what it took to be able to run this bear of a race and be able to say that I did it.  Nothing was going to stop me.

Well.  February was four months ago.  A lot has happened since then.

I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses.  But frankly, I am.  Since February, I have

  • trained for and ran a half marathon.  (Go me!)
  • My daughter has been cast as the lead in a local theatre production (and I have been cast as a chorus member), which means the theatre is our second home.  It takes a great deal of our time and attention.
  • I have made the decision to move into a new home and have had to tackle the stresses that come along with any move.
  • I have hurt my foot in some phantom way (no clue how it happened – but it’s definitely getting better!), which has slowed my running down a great deal.

Oh, I could keep listing things, but honestly, it doesn’t matter.  Because basically?

Well.  Basically, I’m just tired.

I’ve noticed that ever since my half marathon has been over, my thoughts keep going back to this dreaded Bear race in July.  It has been a constant worry in the back of my mind.  Through everything else I’m doing in my life, there’s the undercurrent of, “I should be training for the Bear.  I should be training for the Bear. I should be training for the Bear.”  To be quite honest, it has become a nuisance.  So, after some soul searching, I have decided to back out of the race.

For a while, I struggled with that decision.  I called myself a quitter.  Told myself that, whether I realize it or not, other people are watching me through this process because of my blog articles and my Facebook posts.  By quitting, I am sending a message to my readers that giving up is ok.  That running is not the awesome thing that it is and that you shouldn’t push yourself to try bigger and better things.  I didn’t want this to be the message I conveyed.

But finally, I just decided to stop beating myself up.

I decided to look at it a different way.

Here’s what I want this decision to show you.  No one is perfect.  NO ONE.  If you’re a beginner runner (or maybe even just someone thinking about running), I know how intimidating it is to see these “experienced” runners do all the things they’re doing – the half marathons, the 5Ks, the 10Ks, the mountain-climbs.  Believe me, I know.  I was you just a little over a year ago.  I didn’t think that these runners were human.  I thought they weren’t like me – they didn’t have life stresses that get in the way, or days when they just felt too tired to run.  They were machines, not a flawed, tired human being like me.  Well, guess what?  I was wrong.  They were just like me.  And I’m just like you.  We all need a break sometimes.  We all need to go easy on ourselves and not push ourselves to the brink of exhaustion.

I mean, after all, when it ceases to be fun – then what’s the point?

I enjoy running.  I enjoy appreciating the new, healthier person that I have become because of it.  Nothing will ever stop me from being a runner.  But for a little while, I think I might hold off on pushing myself to the next limit.  I’m just going to enjoy where I am now, maybe enter a few local 5Ks here and there, and just relax for a while.  No pressure, no training, no pushing – just running.

I’m taking a little break from the stress.

And that’s perfectly okay.

***

“It was being a runner that mattered, not how fast or how far I could run. The joy was in the act of running and in the journey, not in the destination. We have a better chance of seeing where we are when we stop trying to get somewhere else. We can enjoy every moment of movement, as long as where we are is as good as where we’d like to be. That’s not to say that you need to be satisfied  forever with where you are today. But you need to honor what you’ve accomplished, rather than thinking of what’s left to be done.”
– John Bingham

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03

Jun. ’13

Warrior Dash (or, as I like to call it: “Hell”)

warriordashpic1

Awww.  Look at the happy little couple with their little bibs on ready to conquer the Warrior Dash!  Bless their little hearts.

Ahhh, the Warrior Dash.  For those of you who aren’t familiar, this is a 5K obstacle course mud run.  We (ok, Richard) had been looking forward to this for a long time.  This is an all-day event, with different race waves starting every 15 minutes from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.  Our official start time was supposed to be at 12:30 (this was the only slot available when we signed up – these things sell out fast), but we quickly learned after we got there that it really didn’t matter which start time you chose.

The start times were about as disorganized as everything else was.  *Sigh*  But I’m getting ahead of myself….

Ok, here’s what we forgot to notice in this cute little picture.

One – a random flag floating mid-air over my right shoulder.  Um.  What the heck?!  Ok, that has nothing to do with the story I’m about to tell, but I just had to point that out.  Freaky, much?

And two – the angry chick to my right.

Ok, let me point them out for you:

warriordashpic2

Ok, so although the ghost flag is pretty awesome, let’s concentrate on Angry Chick for a minute.  Because that represents what my story is going to revolve around.

Angry Chick is angry.  I don’t personally know Angry Chick, mind you.  But I know a little something about how Angry Chick feels now.  Angry chick is covered in mud, has a medal around her neck, has a fierce look on her face, and is holding a beer.  I’m going to tell you how Angry Chick got that way.  And I’m going to tell you how Richard and I soon joined Angry Chick in Angrychickville.  (Ok, Angrydudeville in Richard’s case).

Let me give you a nice little overview.  Here is a comment that a participant placed on the Warrior Dash Facebook page after the race:

“Warning to warriors: There are far more obstacles than advertised in this race! The first unpublished obstacle required you to stand in line for almost an hour in the sun to get your registration packet from the six people they had working to check in ten thousand runners. While standing in line, you had to try to avoid getting shoved into the back of the sweaty fat guy in line in front of you.  The next obstacle was to try to make it to your heat on time after standing in line for so long. (We were only an hour late.) The next few obstacles were pretty easy, they only involved jumping over fire and crawling under barbed wire. The mud pit was very challenging thanks to the concrete-like consistency of the mud. But that’s nothing compared to the next obstacle. This one required you to get rinsed off from the one guy with a hose who was rinsing off one person at a time. Given these obstacles, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll be attending another Warrior Dash….” – James Lewis

Yeah.  THAT.

Oh my gosh, this race was horrible.

As described in the comment above, we knew we were in for a disorganized mess when we couldn’t even find the line to pick up our packets.  There were just gobs and gobs of people standing everywhere.  Once we finally somewhat figured out where to stand, we stood there for at least 30 minutes before we looked around and realized that this group was only men.  We couldn’t see the tiny little signs WAY up at the front of the line that said women’s sign-ins were to the left and men’s were to the right.  So, in an extremely non-typical move for myself, I did what most everyone else was doing.  I cut in line.  I’ll be darned if I’m going to stand in that scorching heat (92 degrees at that point) for another half hour.  First rule of warriordom?  Each man (woman) for themselves.

To quote another witty Warrior Dash participant’s Facebook page comment:

“I want my medal to say ‘I survived the packet pick up.'” – MK Turner

EXACTLY.

So, after the torture of waiting to get signed up, we then stood in another slightly less long line to check our bag.  All in all, the whole process only took an hour and a half.  No biggie.  AN HOUR AND A FREAKIN HALF. In 92 degrees.  With no water.  Before a race.

So, once the race finally started – at first, it wasn’t too bad.  Well, sorta.  Did I mention it was hot?  Now, mind you, Richard and I are both half-marathoners.  But at the 0.5 mile mark?

Me:  You wanna walk?
Richard:  Oh dear God, I thought you’d never ask.

The obstacles were admittedly pretty fun, I’ll have to say.  Well, maybe fun isn’t the word.  Gratifying?  Maybe that’s it.  You just felt somewhat accomplished after completing them – even if you were on the brink of death from heat exhaustion.

Ok, did I just say the obstacles were fun?  Let me rephrase.  Most of the obstacles were fun.  Until the last one.

The mud pit.

Oh, dear God.  The mud pit.

Now, we were well aware that there would be a mud pit.  That’s part of the draw.  We were ready to get dirty.  No problem.  Bring it on, yo.

But holy llamas – what the hell was that??  That wasn’t mud.  That was brown cement.  Brown cement that almost took my life.  And I’m not exaggerating.  Not in the least.  Even calm-mannered, non-dramatic Richard will tell you the same thing.  It was so incredibly thick that you could barely move.  And you didn’t realize this until you were halfway through it and there was no way out.  It was like quicksand.  We were in all the way up to our chin and couldn’t move at all.  Each step propelled us maybe an inch.  Maybe.  The only redeeming factor is that the people behind you who were also ‘in too deep,’ so to speak, saw what you were going through and knew they would soon be in your place (there was no other way to go but forward), so they were reaching down in the mud and trying to help dislodge your foot from the muck it was sunk down into to help push you forward.  Honestly, I don’t know if I would have gotten out of the pit if it wasn’t for the girl behind me.  And again, that’s no exaggeration.

Eventually, though, after lost shoes, lost shirts, a lost Mason ring (it still makes me sick to my stomach to think of Richard losing that…), and lost energy and drive to ever do any race ever again, we managed to stumble across the finish line.  Together.  30 pounds heavier from the mud, but still upright and breathing.  Barely.  I cringe to think of what that finish line picture looks like.  I just hope I didn’t flip the camera off, because at this point, I cannot be held accountable for anything that happened in the delirium that followed the mud pit escapade.

Oh yeah, and as if that weren’t enough….there was ONE MAN with ONE WATER HOSE to try to clean off about 10,000 muddy people.  I’m sure you can imagine how well that went over.  At one point, the little sprinkles of water I was managing to get hit with only did nothing but serve to get mud in my eyes, which I could not remove because there was not one single solitary piece of my body that wasn’t covered with even more mud.  So, eyes closed, I asked Richard to bend down and I managed to use the only available thing within reach – the one tiny little spot on the top of his head that didn’t have mud on it.  Yes, I rubbed my eyeball in one little inch of mudless hair on my boyfriend’s head.  Look, people, in times of war, you do what you have to do.

Oh dear God, I could go on and on trying to describe the water hose process more, but frankly, I’m sick of talking about this race.

I’m done.

We got our free beer for completing the race (ok, Richard got his two free beers since I don’t drink the nasty stuff); we laid in the sun for over an hour to try to let the mud dry so we could scrape it off before getting back in the car to head home; we stood in another 30-minute line to get our bag back; we put our dumb ol’ hats and dumb ol’ capes on in the scorching heat and snapped a picture to commemorate the misery; and we hauled our exhausted butts home.

So, Angry Chick, wherever you are, we are now members of the same club.  We have survived this near-death experience of a race and will live on to tell our grandchildren about the time we almost died during a 5k.  We are survivors, right?

Yes, my fellow angry friend, we are warriors. 

warriordashpic3

Hooah!

(And, oh heck, who am I kidding?  We’ll probably see ya next year.  I mean, ‘hope springs eternal’ and whatnot, right?  Surely it couldn’t get any worse than this.  Could it?)

Sigh.

***

“All life is an experiment.  The more experiments you make, the better.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

P.S.  This particular Warrior Dash was in Huntersville, NC, on June 1, 2013.  From what I have heard, not all Warrior Dashes are like this disorganized mess.  Just wanted to throw that disclaimer in there on their behalf.

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Running. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , . 8 Comments

28

May. ’13

Dress the Part

I noticed something interesting the other day.

This is my daughter, Kelly.

dresspartblog

This picture was taken on the day of her 7th grade graduation.  We curled her hair, she had a little makeup on, wore a cute little dress…she was looking pretty darn spiffy.  Well, later that evening, she and I had to be at theatre rehearsal.  (She was cast as Annie in our local theatre’s upcoming production – if you haven’t already heard me mention that about 3,000 times. I’m just a little bit proud.)  She still had her hair curled, still had the little dress on, etc.  And something interesting happened.  When she stepped on that stage that night, she did the best she had ever done.

Now, granted, my daughter is capable of playing this role.  She is beyond capable.  But with this being her first large role (first speaking role, even), she’s a bit nervous and a little reserved.  Up to this point, she hadn’t found her ‘sea legs,’ so to speak.  But by golly, she was swimming that night.  That girl was spot on.  I saw more spunk and confidence than I had seen thus far.

After rehearsal, I told her what a great job she had done and asked what made her come alive like she did.  She said, “I don’t know.  I had my hair all curly and a dress on…I guess I just felt like Annie.”

“I guess I just felt like Annie.”

Kinda profound when you think about it.  She dressed the part, so she felt like the part.  Simple as that.

So, how does that apply to the rest of us?

Granted, I know we’re not all title characters in a musical.  Most of us are just out here floating about in our regular everyday lives trying to make it through the day without any major catastrophes.  But I think I just learned a pretty good lesson from my 13-year-old daughter.  Whatever I want (need?) to be, I just have to “dress the part.”

Let’s take my running for example.  Now, I’ve heard a lot of runners have mentioned this before so I’m not alone in this thought process.  Sometimes I just don’t feel like running.  I just don’t.  I know I need to, I know I’ll feel good when it’s over, but none of that matters.  I’m just tired and I don’t feel like it.  But as soon as I put on my running clothes and running shoes…suddenly, I’m transformed.  I went from a lazy bum on the couch who didn’t feel like doing anything at all, to an all-out runner who is raring to go.  It’s that simple.  I dress like a runner, so I feel like a runner.

Now, that’s a literal example.  But maybe this can be applied in a not-so-literal way.  Maybe it’s not always an outfit.

Maybe if you want to be a certain thing, you just have to pretend like you are that thing.  You know?

You want to be happy?  Dress the part.  Slap on a smile and be happy.  The first time you do it, you may just feel dumb…smiling for no reason like that like a big dummy.  But the second time you do it, who knows?  You might actually start to feel a little better.  The third?  Maybe even better.  Eventually your smiles will not only fool other people into thinking that you’re actually happy…you might even start to fool yourself.  How about that?

Dress the part.

You want to forgive someone who hurt you?  Act like you have.  Seriously.  Just act like that.  When those negative thoughts pop into your mind, tell yourself that that person is forgiven.  You don’t have to mean it.  Just say it.  Again – at first, it will feel silly.  You’ll feel like a liar.  But the next time?  Maybe it will feel like a little less of a lie.  The next time?  Even less.  Eventually, maybe it just might not be a lie.  Maybe it’ll even become the truth.

Maybe you can put on that little imaginary cloak of forgiveness and finally – finally – just move on.

Dress the part.

Fill in the blank with whatever you need to fill it in with.  You want to be a more positive person?  Act like you’re a positive person.  You want to be a better friend?  Be a better friend.  You want to trust someone?  Trust them.

You want to love someone?  Love them.

Dress the part.

Start with baby steps.  Then bigger steps.  Then keep increasing your stride until you’re moving at full speed.

YOU alone have the power to change everything.

***

“Endeavor to be what you desire to appear.”
– Socrates

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10

May. ’13

The Bear

hills

So, in all my hustle and bustle with getting ready for this half marathon that I just ran [If you’re new to my blog, here is the link to that one: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/05/04/i-did-it/], I kinda sorta forgot about something.  I’m signed up for another race in July.

The Bear.

*Sigh*

bearprofile2

Holy crap.  Do you SEE this thing?  If you’re local, you probably know all about it.  If you’re not – well look at that picture.  A 1,541 elevation climb in 5 miles up Grandfather Mountain in Linville, North Carolina. They limit the run to 800 runners and slots usually fill up within the first two or three days after sign-ups open.

Oh. Dear. God.  What the heck was I thinking???

Oh yeah, now I remember.

I signed up for this race, and the half marathon, during the time that Richard and I were split up.  I was so incredibly determined to prove to myself that I was tough.  On the outside and on the inside.  I was going to devote my life (and overactive mind) to training for these races and show the world – and me – what I was made of.

Well, that was four months ago.  Richard and I found our way back to each other (yay!) and life is pretty awesome.  So, I have nothing to prove now, right?  No need to climb a dumb ol’ mountain.  It’s allll good.

Except.  Well.  I think I still need to do it.

Turns out, proving to myself that I’m strong didn’t really have anything to do with that breakup.  Actually, I think I have been needing to do this for a very long time.  Sometimes something comes along in your life … whether it be a breakup, a financial crisis, a family problem, whatever … and you suddenly start to see things like you haven’t seen them before.  Your slumbering senses are awakened.  You realize something needs to change.  And once you make that realization, going backwards is not an option.  It’s just not.

I’ve never seen myself as strong before.  I’ve had other people tell me I was.  I can look back on things that I’ve made it through (cancer, divorce, etc.) and realize that I must have been at least somewhat strong to get through it all.  But I didn’t feel strong.  Hearing others say it just didn’t do anything.  I needed to hear me say it.  And I just couldn’t.

And then I discovered running.

I discovered something that gives me strength.  Something that I can do to continually prove to myself that I can do so much more than I realized I was capable of.  With each additional mile and each additional intensity level, I amaze myself with what my body can do.  I just had to train my mind to tell my body it was possible.

And now it’s time to do that again.

I’m sure I won’t be the fastest person up that mountain.  Just like I wasn’t the fastest person to finish that half marathon.  But I’ll tell you what – I sure did run that half marathon faster than I’ve ever run one before.  And I sure will run those 5 steep miles in Linville faster than I ever have run them before too.  That’s a guarantee.

I can do this.  I will do this.  I will climb this mountain in July just like I’ve climbed all of the metaphorical mountains that came before it.  Only this time, I’ll be aware of my strength.  And I will be proud.

Then?  Then, I will file this memory away with all of the others, so that I can recall it the next time I see a mountain in my life that I feel like I won’t be able to climb.  This will remind me that I can.  And I will.

Hmmm.  Maybe that’s what this running thing is about after all.

***

“It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.”
– Edmund Hillary

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04

May. ’13

I did it!

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”
– T.S. Eliot

racecollage7

Well, it’s official.  I’m a half marathoner.

And let me tell ya…it was HARD!  This course was definitely no walk in the park.  (Ok, admittedly there was some walking, but there was NO park. I swear.)

I really am so proud of myself.  Somewhere deep inside of me, I truly wondered if I could do it.  During my long training runs, my legs were so heavy and so weak.  I never made it up to a full 13.1-mile run in training (11 was my furthest), so I was so scared that I might not actually be able to make it that far.  Especially on this extremely tough course.  It helped me though to see quotes like the one by marathoner Alberto Salazar:  “I had as many doubts as anyone else. Standing on the starting line, we’re all cowards.”  Made me feel less alone.  Made me realize that what I was feeling was what most everyone feels or had felt at some point in their running process.  Even elite marathoners.

But, alas, I did it.  I made it!

And here’s a short list of awesome things from the race:

  • I made a running buddy along the course.  He was an older man from the Winston-Salem, NC area.  Silly me – I didn’t even ask his name. Nor did he ask mine.  But we leap-frogged each other throughout the race.  Kept each other company at times.  Chit-chatted about our jobs, our families, etc.  It was nice running a half-marathon and having a conversation every so often.
  • I saw a shirt that said “Slow and steady, my ass! This is my top speed!”  That made me giggle.
  • I saw a shirt that said “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1).”  That made me smile.
  • I saw my friend Kelly who broke her foot during training for this race, out there running anyway after only having been out of her cast for about 2 or 3 weeks now.  I was in awe.
  • I got “I love you” and “You got this!” texts from the man I love during the race. Priceless.
  • I got “Run Forrest Run!” texts from my coworker during the race.  Sigh.
  • I got close to the finish feeling like I might not make it, and rounded a curve and saw my boyfriend Richard’s friends (ok, my friends) standing on the side to cheer me on – the same people who I cheered on during their half marathons and marathons in New York last year. That made me cry.
  • I got to the finish line and saw Richard and my son Jeffrey waiting for me (after their own 5K race) with smiles and cheers.  And saw my son (who never ever EVER remembers or cares to take a picture of anything) poised with his camera waiting to snap a picture of me crossing the finish line.
  • I got this from my boyfriend as a post-race gift:

meshirt

The shirt says “13.1 wuz worth it.”  And yes, it was.  Awesome gift.  Awesome man.  Lucky girl.

And probably my favorite moment from the race:

  • My son’s dad called him to see how the race went.  And without missing a beat, Jeffrey immediately began telling him my finishing time and details from the half marathon.  Momentarily forgetting that he himself had just finished second in his age group in his own 5K and won an award for it.  Talk about a proud mom.  That definitely started the waterworks flowing, and I’m not sure he even realized what he had done.  In fact, I’m sure he didn’t.  Feeling my son’s pride in me was like nothing else.

I know there are a million more things I could list that I loved about this race.  But those are the highlights.  Point is – this was a beautiful experience that I won’t soon be forgetting.

So, in honor of all that I have overcome in training for this race, and in life in general – two divorces, two bouts with cancer, a bad car accident during training, a breakup at the beginning of training (which ended up in a glorious reconciliation mid-training), and just a general past filled with doubt and uncertainty about myself and my abilities – this race is for you.

I can do anything.

And so can you.

***

“The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”
-John Bingham

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Running. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 9 Comments