Real Runners Believe

Am I a running snob?

Am I one of Those People?

Recently I was talking to The (washed-up) Mayor and he said something that really startled me...

He implied that he was not fast enough to be considered in the same league as me and my running peeps.

Um, WTF? That’s insane.

Are there some sick athletes among us? Hellz to the Yeah.

Do I consider myself one of them? Not really.
Does speed define one's BadAssery? B*tch Please.

I’m just a runner who runs for the love of the sport. I am not particularly athletic. In fact, I was once told that what I Lack in Speed, I make up for in my expertise on the "Running Psyche". 

I’m a run Guru; I’m not a BQ.
But yeah, I'm a Galactic BadAss and I OWN THAT SH*T.

Still, though, when he pointed out that he wasn’t as fast or as athletic as the running crew I chase every week, and that he wasn't a "runner" like me, it made me question whether or not I come off as a running snob or something.

Do I? Am I the runner girl version of Draco Malfoy? Am I coming off as an elitist?

I hope not, because if I am, I have not represented myself very well lately.

My personal belief is deep rooted in the idea that for every runner there is a (race distance)(trail)(non-race)(route) that will meet their particular needs. That is one of the things that makes running SO great.

Anyone can find a way to make this sport THEIR own personal FLAVOR. It just happens that right now my flavor is the kind that comes with wizards and a coffee shop.

Of course, this is a running blog. I love running. I could wax poetic about why running is the Cat’s Meow all day long.

 For years.

 I have, in fact, essentially done that. 

               For years.

When he said it my gut response was to say, “But that’s silly. You are athletic. You run for your reasons; I run for mine. That doesn’t make one of us a better runner, it just makes us unique in the way we practice our sport.”

Right?

amiright?

After all - my “running peeps” and I don’t necessarily run for the same reasons, even though we run together. And by together I mean I chase them and they come back for me. Or something like that.

Even runners training together for a BQ are not running for the same reason. Everyone has their own story that makes their BQ dream unique.

All the contemplating made me really consider the Why behind my run these days?

My answer is varied and complex.  Why do I run? Primarily because my children will sell me on ebay if I don’t... and also I’m obsessed with it... and because it’s the “thing that gets me high” instead of illegal drugs. I run so I can drink Starr Hill and not look like I drink Starr Hill. 

Oh, and I like running... even when I hate it. And I like the anticipation when it’s about to start. And I like the feeling of finality when it’s over. And most of the time I like the steps in between where I wrestle with my pace and my self-worth does battle with my self-doubt. 

Ultimately my run is my hobby, my therapy, my therapist, and my drug. ~ like a love sick crack head ~

I run for 10,001 reasons. And maybe they’re similar to yours, and maybe they’re not, but at the core, if you believe you are a runner, then you are a runner.

~savor the run~

Right Turns

It happened again.

I was praying for the end of my run by mile 2. At 2.68 I had checked my watch at least twice. I started wondering if there was something wrong with me. I showed up to run rogue, and instead I wanted to run away.

Why was running so hard today?

My legs were dead and my heart felt as though it was going to erupt from my chest. At some point I was struggling just to put one foot in front of the other, and all I could say to myself was, “Just try to hang on to Dead Ass Last and you can turn back with the group that is running 5 miles instead of 6+.”

So, I made a new goal.

I would hold on until the turn, and run the shorter distance. In fact, I got a little cocky with the new plan and I ran side by side with Harry Potter for a few strides. He mocked me gently, I pushed back, and then he dropped my sorry a** like I was standing on the street waiting for the bus. I pushed myself to try to catch him again, even though I know I can’t do that. I pushed myself because I knew I would be running the short route.

The pack bifurcated at an intersection.

All I needed to do was turn left and I would be Dead Ass Last behind the shorter distance pack. A right turn ensured an extra mile of torture.

I stood on the dark corner and watched everyone run away from me.

Head lamps and blinkies were the only thing I could see, though I could hear snipits of conversations. “...said so... Shamrock will be... was fine... elbow now... retirement plan...” FYI~ runners are weird

I had about 3 seconds to choose or I was going to find it excruciating to catch either group. Left for 5, Right for 6.2ish.

3

“Run Short!” my mind screamed.

2

I stepped left...

1

...and turned right.

My spirit sighed in relief even as my legs complained. I dug deep and caught the two women who represented the Dead Ass Last crew.

Why (the f*ck) did I turn RIGHT?

Chasing the group for an extra mile sounded like a terrible idea almost as soon as I did it. It became even more terrible sounding as we started the first in a series of climbs. Yet, I was elated by the terrible decision.  As further validation, one of my companions pointed out that being Dead Ass Last at Rogue is still faster than the average runner, by far.

In other words, we don't suck.  

The last climb was horrible, I might add. I almost quit. I dry heaved about a block from the end, and stumbled to a walk. One of the People I Don’t Know grabbed my arm – “NO! You DID NOT RUN THAT HARD TO QUIT NOW.”

I ran side by side with her to the end. And I appreciated every bit of energy she shared with me for those last steps. She was amazing, and positive, and all the things we need to be for each other on days like today.

Some days are harder than others. And in that way, Running once again proves that it is just like Life.

Today I further clarified my personal distinction between the pain of an injury, the pain of general fatigue, and the deeply satisfying pain of a hard run.

Running is hard. If it was easy they would have named it something else.

Like, “napping”.

~ savor the run ~

Get Dropped. Keep Running. Repeat.

I could hear myself breathing. I could hear the air whining in my throat. A hundred running soles in the dark could not deafen me to the sound.  The back to last crew was about to catch me.  I could hear that too.

Male voices - 

      "I got nothing."

         "No?"

      “Nothing.”

OMFG. seriously? Those People were f*cking talking? About NOT talking?

My stomach churned a bit. I settled in on Harry Potters heels next to Ed.  I’m sure my watch would have indicated some blistering pace, but I couldn’t look at it. Every ounce of my concentration was being put into not getting dropped.

At that moment, I wanted to die. Or vom. Or vom and THEN die.

So many choices.

Too many.

Talking was not one of them.

David spoke up - "I do my best thinking when I can't breathe."

Everyone laughed. And I don’t know if it was the moment, or the endorphins, or the fact that I’m too clever for my own good, but the next thing I knew, I managed a sentence,

“Hypoxia:  The birthplace of innovation and creativity.”

It was worth a hearty chuckle, and I let them pull away. No worries. They’ll be back.

I’ve gotten into a habit now of running intervals on Thursday mornings. I think everyone should try it. I credit hypoxia with this great idea. 

Truly, I do.

Every time the Back to Last crew thunders past, I jump onto their energy and hang in as long as I can. It’s fun, and it gives me something to think about besides dying. Or vom. and only someone suffering from decreased O2 would think that this sounds fun.

It’s been four weeks since I started these hellish intervals, and every week it’s about the same. 

Jump on, Hang in, Get dropped, Keep running. Repeat.

Today was particularly interesting though, because when Back to Last caught me on Hanover Street, instead of latching on and sliding off, like I normally do, I stuck to it. I guess part of it was that as we neared the end of the run I wasn’t worried about using all my energy.

So I ran. “Great Job, G. 2/3 of a mile to go.”

I couldn’t reply. There was no extra air. Fire burned in my lungs, I was being torched from the inside out. I couldn’t stop myself though, all I could do was just keep going. Anytime I felt myself fading, I sucked it up and pushed harder. I could feel Harry Potter at my side, and I matched him for as long as I could.

He pulled away. It's a familiar feeling though, so I wasn’t worried. His orange shirt served as a beacon. I was running on the edge of death for no reason other than it was a Thursday.

F*ck. Me. 

Who do I think I am?

This is insane.

Why am I doing this?

My inner voices were raging with every miserable breath and ultimately the battle came down to two important concepts:

I want to die.

-Doing battle with-

You can do anything for 2/3 of a mile.

And that’s where it ended. 2/3 of a mile later I found myself dry heaving at the end of a dark street in Richmond. 

I didn’t die.

At the end of the run, as the spots faded from my vision, I flashed my smile at Harry and Ed. I was high. Severely high. And PROUD of myself. It’s probably a good thing that I had to get home right away. No one needs to witness that much “high” in one runner on any given day. It should also be noted that people this high have impaired judgement.

Running with Those People I Don’t Know, showing up, and bringing it every week is really starting to pay dividends. It's like therapy for my MOJO. It feels good to work that hard.

I was in the thick of the pack today. I learned someone’s name this morning. That felt good too.  

Yep. Huge dividends. 

Pretty soon I’ll know Those People I Don’t Know.

~ savor the run ~

Selfishness and Awesomeness

I flinched as the cold wind bit my cheeks. Water filled my eyes, and I blinked back tears that meant nothing.  With a temperature hovering in the mid twenties, and a wind chill in the high teens, it seemed the sun was completely ineffectual despite the brightness.  Never the less, we set out and laid down 5 miles on the icy pavement. They weren’t effortless, but they got done.

We were having a double date, My Run and I. It was nice to go out with another like-minded pair.

I’ve been exclusively dating My Run for a few weeks now.

It’s going well.  There’s no drama with My Run.  Ok, ok, I admit that there’s some drama: I’m borderline obsessed with My Run. Since we are old friends with a long history, it’s been relatively smooth to just step into a full blown relationship again.

Not that it’s without any tension. Mmm. There’s all kinds of chemistry here.

I’d mention our run together the other day as an example, except I don’t want to run and tell. Suffice it to say, afterwards I was sweaty and laughing, and My Run was very satisfied with the effort.

yeah, I work on the 6th Floor

I am reminded of something Professor Holton, a badass cyclist, often says about cycling, “It never gets easier, you just go faster.” That quote applies to My Run too. Not that speed is the ultimate measure of awesomeness. A hott figure is another measure. Or is that spelled hot?

So yesterday, as I climbed the stairs at work, I realized I was only doing it for my run. My run likes a strong a**. It’s kinda My Run’s obsession. That, and strong hips. And don't get me started on what I'm doing in an effort to get a more Run worthy core. Planks, handstands, etc.

I guess what I’m saying is that I’m intentionally changing my habits for the benefit of my partner.

Further fueling my concerns, My Run and I are chasing our dreams together again, but we are doing it at the exclusion of others. I turned down a date the other day with a man, because I wanted to spend more time with My Run. Maybe it was also because he wasn’t someone who I wanted to spend time with, but still... I suspect my mother would have an opinion on that.

Handstand
Difficulty Level:
Puppy

This intimacy, this commitment, this everything... well, it rocks on so many levels I can’t even begin to explain it. It is deeply satisfying to be monogamous with My Run when there is no real race on the horizon.

It’s selfish feeling, but in a healthy way.  

Except, here’s the question that haunts me:  Can selfishness be healthy? Is there a time where selfishness is the right choice, especially when it leads to awesomeness?

Do we, as a culture, place too much negativity on selfishness?

Or, am I just justifying my selfish behavior of late?

And My Run and I don’t have the answer to any of those questions.

We will just keep getting up in the morning and going out together. We will take the stairs so my assets will be stronger. We will sacrifice our sleep. Sometimes we will join a group, and sometimes we will go it alone. Sometimes we will even rely on mechanical assistance to get us through our miles when we pound it out on a treadmill.

I’ll worry about the selfishness later.

~ savor the run ~ respect the distance ~

If You Toe the Line, You Have to Race

I'm all about the 5K distance.  I've been enjoying the shorter running.  No lie. It's The Year of The 5K and I am LOVING IT.

There's no pressure to train.
Sometimes I wake up and run fast, and sometimes I run relaxed, and sometimes I skip my run and climb 5 or 6 flights of stairs at the hospital 2 or 3 times a shift.  And that's my workout.  This is not training.  This is running for the joy of running.

You know what else is awesome about the 5K distance?

I can do all those things, or none of them, and it doesn't matter.

The Pre-Race Photo

The 5K will still be out there waiting for me.  I will get to the end of it regardless of my non-training.  If it doesn't go well, there will be another 5K in a few weeks and I can run back to back 5K races without hurting myself.

And that was my mindset when I went out to run my December 5K.

I told DeNiece to pick the race.

I didn't really care which one she picked.  As I said, a 5K is a 5K, and since I haven't been doing too much specific training it almost didn't matter which one she chose.  Hills or Flat?  A known course or a new course?  Nothing mattered except showing up and having some fun.

And FUN is my middle name, so that's a given.
Actually it's spelled like Althea, but is pronounced Fun.

DeNiece picked me up after a healthy breakfast of 3 chocolate chip cookies.  I may have had some water... wait.  No I didn't, but I definitely had some coffee.  For the record, my pre-race dinner was 5 pita chips, a spoonful of hummus, 2 glasses of wine and a marshmallow.  Oh yeah, and a shot of Fireball.  Can't forget that...

Basically, on the drive over, I questioned aloud whether or not I was in top running form.

Not that it mattered.  It's only a 5K.  And as I said it, I thought, "I'm not sure I'm showing the 5K enough respect".

We arrived at the Jingle Bell 5K to discover that Harry Potter, one of my all time favorite Black Team runner friends, was standing in the packet pickup line with is son, M!  It was M's first 5K!

It was sure to be a #bestdayever!

There was some banter.  Some wardrobe commentary.  Some jokes were thrown around about "just go win it, ok?"

We ran a warm up, got a selfie, walked around, said 'hi' and 'Merry Goodness' to all the peeps we saw and recognized, and then it was time to line up.

I wasn't feeling epic.  But I was feeling some bad dance moves.  It's nice when you can not only embarrass your own kids, but you can also embarrass your friend's children.

I wandered back into the crowd... and DeNiece and another GBA 5K team member, WnW, pulled me to the start line and said, "This is where we line up."

I said, "I don't belong up here."
Potter said, "If you toe the line, you have to race it."
D & WnW basically said, "You belong here.  We are here.  You are with us."

I lost track of D & WnW within about 13 seconds of the start.  They went that fast.  I saw them up hills and on the out and back, but generally it was my race to run alone.  That said, I didn't get passed by a tremendous amount of runners.

The Potter Boys - look at that kid's form! Love it! (glad to
 see Harry Potter catching on with the festive "tall socks")

I ran well.  Pushed myself.  It was hilly.
I felt a little hunted by the Potter Boys.  I kept expecting them to come from behind.
I walked a hill and dry heaved at mile 2ish.  I decided Fireball may have been a bad pre-race hydration strategy and will note that for future 5Ks. ~respect~
I really pushed it on my last half mile.

I finished having no idea what the clock read.  I ran without a watch, as is my new habit, so I truly had no idea how fast I had run.  The Potters rolled in right after me.

There were high fives exchanged all around!  M rocked out his day.  He should be proud of himself.

We ran/walked a little cool down and made noises about leaving before the rain started.  We didn't leave though, because DeNiece pointed out that WnW had probably won her age group.

Team GBA 5K

Well, while we were at the awards waiting for them to call WnW's name, we heard my name called for 3rd place A.G finish!  And DeNiece was 3rd in her A.G!  And WnW did, in fact, win her A.G!

The Bling

All on the day that was M Potters first 5K!  What a fun day!

Even more fun when I looked up the results last night and I was pleased to see they had read my A.G. awards in the wrong order, and I was actually 1st place A.G. finisher.

But you know what was the MOST fun of all?

I took off time between my October 5K and December 5K.  A lot of time.
:59 seconds worth of time.  Of course, you know what I thought first when I compared the two times?

"I couldn't have run 1 second faster?"

Yeah.  Runners are weird.  And I am a runner.

The Year of the 5K stats so far:

~ savor the run ~ respect the distance ~