Peace and a 10K

Here is a 2015 Monument Ave 10K Race Recap... sort of.

For Richmonders there are few things more fantastic than running Richmond. We have a strong running community, well organized and friendly to both the veterans and the noobs. Every year we have a 10K that attracts 30K participants, both running and walking their way for 6.2 miles down the avenue of Civil War statues that slices through the west side of town.

Tree lined streets and a grassy park down the center of the road make this flat fast out and back pretty enough to enjoy without being distracting.

At the last minute I signed up to run it.  I know, it’s “The Year of The 5K”, but the 10K is like twice the Fun and if I’m anything it’s a sucker for Fun Things.

Thus – I’m not short – I’m FUN SIZED.

Saturday I ran with my 30K BRFs

I made a goal – run sub 8’s, listen to your body, be in the moment, run your own race, trust yourself, fight every step of the run for a PR because you’re almost fit enough to do that.... Oh, and above all - look like a sexy beast.

I’d like to say it was the #bestdayever.  I’d like to say I owned the course and that the masses parted and my lungs were clear and I ran sub 8’s and got a PR and my hamstring didn’t complain once and I looked like a sexy beast...

But wha’ hada happen’d wuz...

My hamstring was achy and tired feeling during the warm up, and my chest was tight while I was waiting for the race to start. I hit my inhaler, which makes my heart race. Once again I mildly underdressed, which was intentional, but I wished for more Throw Away clothes as I stood in my corral. I did not run sub 8’s for the whole way.

My name is a little ways down this list.
But for the record:
My name is a little ways down this list.

I ran a 7:56 on mile one, and even though it was a sub 8, I knew my shot at a PR was pretty much over.  Nothing should FEEL THAT HARD at mile 1 that’s what she said.

Mile one was brutal. I also knew, however, that I could still break 50 minutes if I worked hard.

At least I looked like a sexy beast...

I chased down another runner with a blond ponytail, pushed someone else, was pulled at the end, and ran a 49:46.  I crossed the finish line and collapsed into the arms of Coach Black for a deeply satisfying hug.

I knew that my finish time was probably not quite good enough for a place in the TOP 100 in my AG, but ultimately I accepted that it was a completely respectable time. There were 1871 women in my AG at this event. I would later learn I had placed 78^th.  I’ll take it.

As I made my way through the gates and corrals and water lines and photographer, I thought about my performance.  There was a point in my life when a sub 50 minute 10K would have been as unattainable as winning a race. I’ve done both those things twice now. What other “unattainables” are on my “list” that shouldn’t be there?

Plenty.

And they’re going to need to GO.

I didn’t linger at the finish. I was instantly cold. So I went back to around the mile 5 marker and found my friend Dimples. She lent me a jacket so we could spectate together before she sent me back to her house with a key so I could shower and warm up and beer.

Now, here’s the thing. I was a mile from her house... so I ran back through the city with my medal tucked in my bra and my phone in my hand. It felt good to run.

Isn't that silly? I had just finished a race...  

I was on the sidewalk parallel to the course, and there were thousands of runners making their way to the finish.

I was easily on my 8^th mile of the day when you combine the race and the warm up.  But I wasn’t really dead on my feet... I was just enjoying a chilly run through the city... It felt easy. I was completely relaxed and at peace.

The sun dappled through the tree branches, the sidewalk was chipped and crooked, the spectators were teasing me that I was running the wrong way...  my stride was light, and I felt like a beast.

A beast who could fucking run.

Saturday, in that moment, is when I realized how ready I am to run again. I mean, really run again, for me. I want to Run Richmond. I want to be in the city, winding my way down cobblestones to the river, cutting through the museum district, crossing flood walls and embracing this place I love so much. 

I want to run again. Not because I have to, or because someone else tells me to, but because I MUST run in order to be true to ME. 

And in that truth, I will find peace.

~savor the run~

100 Days of Gratitude

About 4 months ago I realized that my life wasn’t exactly going to go the way I expected.  

One day I was driving down the road I was mapped on with a smile on my face, and the next day, my car started to slide.  I jerked the wheel to try to stay on the road, but I used a heavy hand.  It threw me into a whirl, I spun very quickly out of control, and just like when a car slides on ice, the more I thought I could correct it, the worse the spinning became.

And the more I spun, the harder it was to understand that it would ever stop.

It felt like there would be no end.

In October a friend saw me struggling.  She is a good friend.  She said, “No matter how you feel tomorrow morning, I want you to do something when you wake up.  I want you to think about what you are grateful for and write it down.”

She said in 100 days that I would feel better.  She said, “If you do this every day, in 100 days you will remember what you have forgotten.”

I thought she was crazy.  I hadn't forgotten anything.  My life had just spun out of control.  I thought that it was my fault.  I was operating under the illusion that if I kept jerking the wheel, I could get it back on the road.

I listened to her though, because I was so desperate that I would have done almost anything to feel better, even if I had to wait until January.

Some days it was really hard.  I wrote things like, “I am grateful that the sun came up” because I couldn’t think of anything.  Or, “I am grateful for coffee”, because that seemed like the only thing that would get me through the day.

As the days went on, it became easier to write them down.  “I am grateful for my children...” and “I am grateful for my amazing job” and “Harry Potter” and "my run" and "my mom" and “my running wife” and "my wonder twin" and “the puppy who woke me up at 3 am, because when he did that I saw an eclipse”....  

And do you know what I realized the other day?

It did not take "100 days of gratitude" to make me remember why my life is so good.  I realized that I could be grateful for something every day for the rest of my life and still probably not honor all the amazing people and good and lucky and blessed events in my life.

I know I have it good.  I know we are lucky.  I am aware that my parents love us.  I know my friends love and support me and the kids.  Those same friends will be there at 5 am to run, at 10pm for a glass of wine, or for an afternoon hug on the hard days.

I am grateful that I live a blessed life.  I am grateful for the roof over our heads, no matter how humble its shape.  I am grateful that I have a generous heart, and that I freely give what I have to give without regrets.  I am grateful that I was born with a smile that comes easily, and that when I can, I use it to bring joy.  I am grateful my family raised me to be courageous, to try new things, to be brave, and to live a life without fear.  I am grateful.

Because of my gratitude, my cup is not “half full”:  It is overflowing.

I am grateful.