Category Archives: Lessons from Running

Random lessons

A Letter to My Teammates

To my dearest Smokin’ Aces (aka, Baywatch, Bugs, Buttons, Dropbox, DTH, Mad Hatter, the Minimalist, Ray, Secret Weapon, Sexecutioner and Thumper):

As soon as I started unpacking tonight, my emotions got the best of me and my tear fest began. We’ve all expressed what a fabulous weekend it was. Despite a total deluge at the Start that lasted into the first few legs of our race, several navigational mishaps and many misadventures along the way, eventually the skies cleared and we ultimately took 2^nd overall. We shared lots of laughs, made some new friends and created many memories. But what some of you may, or may not, know about me is that I need this race. I need the Smoky Mountain Relay, like I need to breathe. Last year I needed SMR for a host of different reasons than why I needed it now, but I need it none the less.

Last year I needed this race to learn about confidence in myself and in other people. This year I needed SMR to be reminded of just how far I’ve come in doing that. I needed to see for myself that I am not the same person who ran in the Smoky Mountains a year ago. Thank you, Aces, from the bottom of my heart, to each and every one of you, for being a part of that.

Smoky Mountain Relay, Then & Now:

This year I only ran 3 legs, versus 4 last year, because we were a full team of 12. I had to wait what felt like an eternity to run my first leg, in the dark, which is a stretch that I ran last year during sunset. We can blame poor navigation, resulting in a late arrival to the starting line, for that one. This year, Leg 11, was about setting the tone for a new race in 2013. It was about leaving last year where it belongs, behind me. This was a whole new race. And I was amped!

Leg 19 hasn’t changed a lick in the past year. Except maybe it got harder, if that’s possible. It’s still steep, rocky, and run in the pitch blackness of a Smoky Mountain night. But something has changed since a year ago…Me. Last year I ran Leg 19 thinking I had something to prove. This year I ran Leg 19, because I knew I could. I believed in my own abilities. Like I kept saying all weekend, “We all have our strengths. I know mine.” Today in the car, Ken was saying how I have an ability that is unlike most people. If you put me up against any of those super-fast guys on the road, they’ll smoke me; but put me up against any of those guys on Leg 19 and that margin decreases significantly. Hills level the playing field, thus my nickname. Last year, as I climbed Leg 19, I ran into mist and fog, which was symbolic of how unclear everything was in my life. This year, as I climbed, the stars were bright and beautiful, just like the still unknown future that I know lies ahead of me. This year I did that crazy hard climb 5 minutes faster than I did it last year, I’m not even sure how that happened other than knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I am a stronger person than I was a year ago. Ironically, the song playing on my ipod as I reached the top, with legs so fatigued I had to be practically carried to the van, was Alicia Keys’ Brand New Me.

I asked everyone last night at the house, what their favorite leg was that they ran this year. However, I didn’t answer my own question. 34. Without a doubt. I’d be willing to say that leg 34 is even harder than 19, or maybe it just feels that way to me after running both. But I don’t yet know SMR any other way. Leg 34 has an elevation change very similar to that of 19’s 2400 foot incline, but it’s over the course of slightly more than a mile, rather than 5.5 miles, leading me to believe that it’s close to a 20% grade up gravel and trail and leaves and roots. After the hard part was done, my legs were trashed and my Garmin died shortly thereafter. That’s when the fun started. Last year, I questioned where I was going every step of that leg. This year, I knew exactly where I was headed. I even got to point another runner in the right direction, just before I left him in the dust. Last year, I ran the steep downhill switchbacks feeling fearful and totally out of control, which mimicked my life at that point. This year, I ran with a smile on my face, feeling free and loving the momentum. Stretches of 34 were longer than I remember, but I loved every second of it, particularly running beside a bubbling brook that I eventually got to cross. Last year, I got completely lost on Leg 34, adding over a mile to my route. This year, I trusted my directions, trusted myself and stayed the course. Last year when Ken showed up to help drag my butt out of the woods I was surprised to see him and I didn’t think I’d even make it to the end. This year, Ken and Craig were waiting right where I expected them to be to run me out of the woods. I couldn’t have been happier to see them, not because I needed help, but to share that part of the leg with my friends, and I smiled as I yelled, “Let’s go, Boys.” Ken still had to help pull me up the last hill because my legs were so wasted, but unlike last year I accepted help happily, rather than feeling totally demoralized for needing it. Friends help each other, it’s just what they do.

Next year, I’m looking forward to turning Leg 34 over to Ken and trying out some new parts of the 214 mile course. But rest assured, I’ll still be crazy enough to tackle Leg 19 again.

With all of my reflections on the Smoky Mountain Relay, this letter doesn’t begin to cover all that we had to laugh about, most of which is not even appropriate to share in this forum. It’s interesting how runners can take something completely innocent, turn it around to be totally inappropriate and find it side-splittingly hilarious. Some things just never get old. We laughed about day old sandwiches, French Press coffee, timely birthday cards, Poops McGee and running serenades. We bonded by saving each other from Lymes disease, discussing the qualities of a good boyfriend, fending off the stench of Ken’s feet and sharing visors. Just in case anyone missed that, yes, I have a thing for guys in visors. Just call it one of my many quirks.

This morning, as we headed toward home with the sun coming up over the mountains, Ken’s playlist filled the van with Paul McCartney’s Blackbird. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly, All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arise…” This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, and all of the Aces, past and present, are secure in my heart forever for being a part of it.

I think the theme of the weekend came when, in reference to what was happening in Boston, Alamar said it best, “Choose to love, People”. Yeah, I choose love.

Xoxo,

Hills

Smokin Aces 2013

Camaraderie

As you are probably all well aware, especially if you follow RRG on a regular basis, tomorrow morning I will leave for the Smoky Mountain Relay. I should probably start packing, but instead, here I sit with my coffee and my laptop. Alas, I am a procrastinator. At 10 am tomorrow, I will join with 4 of my teammates at the Starbucks in Chesterfield valley, to embark on our epic road trip from St. Louis through Paducah and on to the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. Feel free to swing by Starbucks as we depart to offer words of encouragement…or to send us off with coffee. Either way is fine really.

In the aftermath of what happened on Monday in Boston, I can think of nothing I would rather do this weekend, than join with this ahhhh-mazing group of people to run an awesome race. The camaraderie of a relay is really like no other running event I know. It’s odd to think that running a race where you might not see another living soul while you’re out there getting through your assigned leg would provide camaraderie, but I assure you, it does. You might spend many hours sleeping during your “race”, but still, you feel the camaraderie. Chances are, by the end of the race, no one will want to be within 25 feet of you, but it’s really nothing personal, you just stink.

In all seriousness, this weekend is going to be intense. The raw emotion that was evoked from the devastation in Boston, also brings out the best in humanity, and that is what truly bonds us together. That is camaraderie.

Let me tell you a few stories about last year’s race. In the middle of the night, in a dark church parking lot, Nathan made me luke warm ramen noodles to get me ready for an upcoming leg. As I ran up a mountain on said leg, my team stopped and waited for me to cheer me on and give me Gatorade as I trekked upward in the pitch dark. When I was literally lost in the woods on my last leg, Ken came into the woods to find me and at one point was actually pushing me up the hill when I thought I couldn’t do it anymore. But, camaraderie is not just about noodles and Gatorade. And sometimes with camaraderie, you don’t have anyone right there next to you, you just have to trust that they are supporting you from afar.

I’m sure everyone on the course in Boston felt the camaraderie of their fellow runners right up until the blasts put a stop to Monday’s celebration. But what the blaster didn’t anticipate is that those explosions, rather that halting camaraderie, ignited that part of the human spirit that takes camaraderie to a whole new level. The way people ran in to help the injured. The stories of Boston residents coming out of their homes to provide for the basic needs of stranded runners. Strangers sharing cell phones to try and locate loved ones. I even read a story of a man who put his medal around the neck of a runner who was stopped just short of the finish because, honestly, we all know that every person who ran even a portion of the Boston Marathon on 4/15 was a finisher in the eyes of the running community.

None of my Smokin Aces teammates were in Boston, but we all knew people who were there in some capacity and you can be very sure we are planning to let everyone in the NC mountains know that we are running this weekend to honor Boston, just as I am sure most of the other teams will be doing as well. It may not be much, but it’s what we can do. Armbands, graffiti on the van, a moment of silence at the start. Anything little thing to remind the rest of the world about what camaraderie looks like, just helps to unite us all against the horrible, hateful crimes that keep occurring way too frequently.

This Friday and Saturday we will be running to stand together as a united front against fear and violence. We will be running to honor those who have fallen, those who lived through a nightmare, and those who ran to help. We will be running to ensure that cowards who try to tear down the human spirit will not win. We will be running because we are grateful that we can. We will be running to remember what camaraderie looks like. But mostly, we will be running just to remember.

This is Rambling Runner Girl, signing off, until we meet again on the other side of the Smokies…

For Boston…

Boston 4/15/13 and Running in Red Riders

I had a post all set to load earlier before I went into work, but I ran out of time. In light of today’s events, I feel like there are a few other things I need to say instead.

Wow. Just wow. Happiness is walking into work and finding a free pair of brand new, bright blue Nike Free 3.0 waiting for you. Heartbreak is having a customer walk in a few minutes later and ask if you heard about the explosion at the finish line of the biggest running event in the world, which resulted in deaths and injuries of runners and spectators. Tragic. Absolutely devastating.

I’m grateful to report that I have, in some form or another, heard from everyone I know that was running today when the explosion occurred at the end of the Boston Marathon.

I still don’t know very many of the details, but here is what I do know. This sucks. The fact that anything as glorious as the Boston Marathon and all that it stands for is now tarnished by this tragedy is absolutely horrible. We all know that I’m a crier, and just because I was at work all afternoon/evening, doesn’t change that fact. Every post I read, every story I heard, all brought more tears. My friend Flavia posted this: And just when you think it can’t get any worse…Relatives of Sandy Hook Massacre victims were VIP guests at the finish line tent, where the bombing occurred. The theme of this year’s marathon was “26 Miles for 26 Victims.” That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Something that was meant to give hope, just re-victimized those people who have already suffered so much.

I can’t believe any of this. I can’t fathom what it would be like to have the experience of living my dream of crossing the finish line at the Boston Marathon, only to have that experience shattered by a bomb going off, and potentially losing a limb. Not being able to run again. Or worse, losing a loved one.

I tried to be there today. When I went to Quebec in 2011, I went with the intention of qualifying for Boston and the possibility of being there today. That marathon in Quebec is the one that got cancelled courtesy of Hurricane Irene. Then I went to Dallas. I ran the race of my life and fell just short of qualifying. That would have gotten me to Boston today. I wanted to try again last year in Chicago, but I sprained an ankle 3 weeks out and I knew my hopes were shot. My Smoky Mountain teammates might even remember me saying last year that this year I wanted to run Boston and then drive down to NC to run our relay 4 days later (That’s right, I leave for NC on Thursday and I’m sure we’ll come up with a way to honor the victims of Boston at SMR). None of that had even occurred to me until I got this message from Jess: “Glad you weren’t at Boston this year! God works in mysterious ways!!” Oh my goodness, yes, I was desperately trying to be there this year, but something kept standing in my way. Maybe its coincidence, but I believe it’s something bigger. I always say that everything happens for a reason. I know my time in Boston is coming, but now I’m so thankful it was not today.

Here is the message I have for the person or people who did this: You have tarnished something beautiful today. You have grieved my heart and the hearts of my friends in the running community worldwide. But we are not afraid to keep running and we will not let you steal our joy. We will continue to do what we love and we will be united in that.

I can’t say it any better than what my friend Megan posted: It is the men and women running toward the chaos that bring hope…

My thoughts and prayers go out to everyone affected by this horrible tragedy today. xoxo…

On a lighter note, if you feel so inclined, here is the piece I originally planned to post…

RUNNING IN RED RIDERS

I’ve been severely out of sorts this past week. Which explains why RRG has been uncharacteristically quiet. It’s a combination of a hormonal imbalance, a completely crazy ridiculous schedule with a bunch of random life interferences thrown in and a series of bad workouts. But…I’m Back, Baby! My mojo has been missing for a while, but I found it on Saturday. I’m sure my Smoky Mountain Relay teammates will be happy to know that, seeing as our race starts THIS Friday!!!

Remember Dorothy’s ruby slippers in the Wizard of Oz? Well, here are my new ruby slippers…

RRG’s Ruby Slippers

Red Mizuno Riders. Dorothy was right, there is NO place like home. I’m ashamed to say that my first marathon was completed in a pair of cheap, crappy, worn out shoes from Famous Footwear. GAAAHHHH! Did I really just admit that?! It’s a miracle I didn’t get injured, and another miracle that I decided to do it all again. 6 more times and counting. I treated myself to some “real” running shoes shortly after that first round with the Chicago marathon in 2001. That was my very first pair of Mizunos. I’ve been running mostly in Mizunos pretty much ever since, careful to replace them every six months or so, until last year, when I put myself in a pair of the Brooks Glycerin 10. I love my Glycerins but a couple weeks ago I went out for a run at Babler and my shins were killing me. My body was telling me it was time for new shoes. One of the great things about working at a running store is that I have easy access to trying lots of different shoes. And ultimately, I ended up right back where I belong, Mizunos, which just feel like…home.

If you read about my 20 miler last Monday, you know how awful that was. On Thursday when I ran 6 with Nicole at Queeny, I was resisting the urge to puke the entire run. Of course, that probably had something to do with the Chick-Fil-A I ate just an hour before. We’ll chalk that up to a lesson learned the hard way. Then, later on Thursday I went off to lead the social run and ran 4 more miles with Nick. I’m not sure which one of us was hurting more though, because at one point I felt like I was pulling him along, which doesn’t ev-errrr happen. I topped out for 10 on the day, but none of those miles felt particularly good.

And swimming last week? Well, that was a total disaster. I was having so much anxiety in my life that I already felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. Not a good state to be in when you jump in the water. I think I barely managed 500 meters and at one point I was so frustrated with myself I ended up at the end of the lane with my head on my arms, clinging to the side of the pool, sobbing. Rambling Runner Girl turned into Crying Swimmer Girl. Or as Steve said when I told him that story, “Lately you are Crying Everything Girl.” Seems that way sometimes, doesn’t it?

So, after a rough week of workouts and life in general, it felt so good to go out for a run Saturday morning before work and feel like I was finally getting back to being the girl that I know I am. I was also reflecting on the things that had gotten me down over the past week. Seeing how I got through all of that made me realize just how far I’ve come over the last year.

So, here’s the question: Is it really all about the shoes? Well, I work in a shoe store, so the obvious answer is Yes! But it’s also about the person wearing the shoes and what they do with what they’ve got. The shoes aren’t going to run themselves. There are times where you just have to put on whatever shoes you can find and get the job done, but once you learn to do that, it makes it so much better when the shoes really fit.

During my run on Saturday, I was listening to the Rascal Flatts song Unstoppable. “You find your faith has been lost and shaken, you take back what’s been taken, get on your knees and dig down deep, you can do what you think is impossible…”

Over the past several years, my faith was lost and shaken. By that, I primarily mean my faith in myself. But slowly I’ve been rebuilding that. I am taking back what’s been taken. It’s hard, and I’ve had to dig really deep, but I’ve been willing to do that and I’ve learned that I really can do what I used to think was impossible.

While I was out for that Saturday morning run, I felt like I was sliding effortlessly across the blacktop, kind of like I was flying, in my red Mizuno Riders and it made me think about something my friend Luke said to me a while back. Luke is one of my best, best, best friends from High School. Which means that, obviously, we’ve known each other for approximately…a very long time. He has seen me conquer countless battles in life and he’s been there through a lot of heart aches. He was also my Homecoming date Senior year since nobody else wanted to take the weird girl who cries all the time and only talks about running. As things have finally started to fall into place with my life, I feel like I am finally getting my groove back and I told Luke that I felt like I was soaring. His response was “Babe, you’ve always been soaring. You just didn’t realize how high you could go!”

He’s absolutely right. And I think it’s finally time for me to find out.

19 Miles, or something…

Today was a weird day. I ran 19 miles. On a Tuesday. Who does that? Well, I do. Since I didn’t do a long run last weekend, and this was a rare Tuesday that I didn’t have my kids, I figured why not throw a long run in mid-week. Of course, those 19 miles were basically all I did today. I had every intention of getting to swimming this morning too, but when I got the email that practice was cancelled due to some bad water, I decided to roll over and go back to sleep. Which was a fantastic idea in theory, except that my neighbors’ roofers didn’t approve of that plan. I tried for a while, but eventually gave up and dragged my butt downstairs for some quality time on the couch with my book and a cup of coffee. I did make a quick trip to the post office later to mail a letter, because yes, sometimes people actually still do that. And I hit the grocery store since my kids come back to me tomorrow and I had almost nothing to feed them. But other than that, all I can really say for today is 19 miles.

19 miles. No rain. No snow. Again, weird. It seems like so many of my long runs lately have been under the duress of less than ideal weather conditions. However, I am very much looking forward to the days of not having to check the weather on my phone 15 times in making a decision on what to wear. Will I be over-dressed? Will I be under-dressed? Any special accessories like tornado-proof shoes? These hovering cooler temps are getting really old. I’m so ready to run in shorts and sleeveless all the time, and God help me, I will not complain about the heat this summer.

I started my run today by myself. I like running by myself, so that’s no big deal. But after 13.32 miles, I was definitely ready for some company. Fortunately, I already had a group to meet. We did a team outing for the new FLEET FEET that is getting ready to open in Des Peres later this month and we ran the social run course that I will have the shared privilege of leading every other week, just like I already do in Chesterfield. I could not be more excited about it! But, like I was saying after a little more than 13 miles on my own, the company was more than welcome. We ran the 5 mile course, which is incredibly hilly, completely the opposite of the Chesterfield social run that is on the levee and flat as a pancake. Mmmmm, pancakes…

After my solitary 13 through the hills of Wildwood, I was thrilled at the nice slow pace set by the 6 month pregnant chick and the injured dude. The last time Adam and I ran together was a trail half marathon where he got injured. We finished just seconds apart and he ended up with a 3^rd place age group award, I got nothing. How is that fair?! Well, I guess it’s not exactly fair that he’s been injured either.

As we finished up the group run, I asked in my always too loud Lindsey voice, “Who wants to run this last .7 with me to round out my 19?!” Not surprisingly, I didn’t have any takers. They said, just run up the road to the bar, we’ll meet you there. Which is exactly what I did. And then I proceeded to throw down with a cheeseburger and fries like nobody’s business. And a couple of Courtney’s hot wings. Boy, some pancakes sure sound good right now…

Like I’ve already mentioned, it was a weird day. There’s a season for everything right? Sometimes we need to do things on our own and sometimes we need others to help pull us through. I thought it was interesting that I finished those 19 miles alone, just as I had started. But, that wasn’t the part about today that was ultimately so weird. 2 years ago today, I felt more alone than I ever have in my entire life. I was at the absolute rockiest part of the bottom. Things couldn’t get any worse. I knew my marriage was over. And the possibility loomed that my life was too. I was telling a friend today about some of the stuff I was dealing with then, and in response to the question, “How do you even begin to let go of all that pain?” this is how I answered: You spend 29 days under a blanket wanting life to just go away, that’s rock bottom. And then, you come to the realization that your entire life you’ve been a survivor. You’ve survived everything that’s been thrown your way. So you slowly start to pick up the pieces and go forward. Its slow steps at first, but eventually you find yourself running toward freedom. And when you finally get there, it’s amazing.

That’s kind of how I feel at the end of every run. No matter how tired I am, or how slow I’m dragging myself along, at least the last few steps, something stirs and I am able to muster the strength to run like I haven’t just put 19 miles behind me. Because I am a survivor. I feel like I am a running to that feeling of freedom and I’ve made it. It is amazing. Especially when you get to the end and you get to celebrate with the awesome people who kept you company along the way. A couple years, or even a couple miles, can make all the difference in the world.

For some reason, after all that, I’ve got a hankering for some pancakes. Geesh, you’d think I just ran 19 miles, or something.

Adam and RRG post race

18 Miles in a Blizzard

It’s official. I’m crazy. I mean like certifiably insane crazy. I just ran 18 miles in the snow. For anyone reading this outside the Greater St. Louis area, I might need to clarify what I mean by snow. It’s March 24^th, right? And we are having the blizzard of the year! I’m quite sure we are breaking records with this. For a place that claims that they don’t need to be prepared because they never get snow (which is ridiculously incorrect), we are in the midst of an estimated foot of snow. It started at about 6 am today and is expected to continue until 6 am tomorrow. School has already been cancelled. Is that even possible with April a week away? I guess so because we are having our own 2013 version of Snow-mageddon.

So, if you happened to be out today, and saw any of the 25 people crazy enough to be out running in this mess, I was one of them. At least 20 of the others are all friends of mine. I’m glad to know I’m in good company in my craziness.

As weird as this will sound, I needed to get out there today. Aside from the fact that I needed to do a long run for training purposes, I was feeling pulled in a million different directions this morning. Emails, texts, phone calls…it seemed like everyone needed something from me and they all wanted it right at that moment. I just didn’t have it in me to take care of everyone else’s requests. I have a tendancy to allow myself and my feelings to get buried under the expectations of others, so I know when I start feeling buried, that’s when I need to take care of Lindsey. I put away the laptop and tucked the phone into my spybelt (I didn’t plan to check it during my run, but in light of the weather, I figured it was best to have it with me). I strapped on the Yaktrax and I set off into the blizzard.

I’m not gonna lie, that was a tough run, both physically and mentally. I typically have some kind of weird mental block on 18 milers. 20’s I can whip out without a problem and even anything up to 16-17 isn’t too bad. But I hate 18 miles. I absolutely loathe that distance. Today I set out with 18 in the back of my mind knowing that I should go that far, but not really sure if it would complete it. I think I got so focused on beating the snow, that I actually forgot how much I hate 18 miles. I finished in around 3 hours. I’ve run 20 and 21 milers faster than that. One of those 20 milers even involved rain, sleet and crazy wind. Oddly, it was exactly 2 years ago today, if I remember correctly, when I was training for the Nashville full that never came to fuition.

The first 10 miles today were great. It was actually quite beautiful running out Old Manchester, all snow covered and lovely. The snow plows were being very considerate and trying not to attack me. Mile 11 was tough, I started to curse running. Mile 13 was great, I thought I would probably make it. Mile 16 was hard, and slow, and painful and reeked of gasoline from snow blowers. I finished Mile 17 right next to my street. I could see my house, my nice warm comfy house. I wanted to stop. I wanted to say “Well, that’s a wrap, time to get warm and dry”. It would have been so easy to just call it a day. 17 miles in a blizzard, that’s plenty, right? But those are the moments that truly test our character. What do we do when things are hard? When we’re tired and weary, do we quit? Cheat? Give up? Or do we push through the cold and the tired and the soaking wet shoes to press on towards the goal? Do we fight through the pain to accomplish what we set out to do? There is a reason I always wear a bracelet on my left wrist that simply reads “Persevere”. It reminds me that I can, and I will, in any situation.

At approximately 17.36 miles, a man in his driveway stopped shoveling for a moment and watched me as I passed. I paused my music long enough to hear him say, “Now that’s dedication”. Smiling, I responded, “Marathon training doesn’t stop for the snow!” He smiled.

Seriously, marathon training doesn’t stop for the snow. Life doesn’t stop for the snow. Sure it slows down and school gets cancelled, but it doesn’t stop. And neither should we. Sometimes it’s a long, lonely, snowy, slushy, challenging road, but every once in a while, when you need it most, someone shows up with a word of encouragement and a smile that will pull you through that last half mile.

Now who wants to come over and shovel the foot of snow in my driveway so I don’t have to? Any takers? Anyone…?

View of the blizzard from my porch. No doubt it’s beautiful. But brutal to run in.

Once Upon A Time…

I raced today. I was so excited to get out on a course and kill it. But I didn’t kill it. I was terrible. It was only a 5 mile race and I missed my goal by a minute and a half. That may not sound like much, but on a 5 mile course, 92 seconds is a lot. I started out too fast, and I know that for me, that is the kiss of death. I wore shoes that I don’t usually run in, I had to stop and retie both of them with very cold fingers. (Note to self: double knot the Kinvaras, especially when you may lose dexterity) But mostly, I was just a head case. Didn’t I JUST write a post about this very thing?! I was supposed to run the whole thing today with my friend, Nicole. We were going to get after it. I was not planning to tell her to go on ahead without me. Blech.

I still finished in the top 7% overall, and I finished in the top 3% of women runners. I was 29 out of 913 women my age. I still averaged 7:55/mile. (Would have been 7:45/mile without the 2 pauses to retie shoes…stupid) Why am I disappointed in this? Because I had a goal in mind. I wasn’t really out there to compete with anyone other than myself, or so I said. And I blew it. Or at least it felt like I did.

As the day progressed I realized what had happened. I carried a lot of baggage through that race with me today. It’s funny how you can be doing your favorite thing in the world, with one of your favorite friends, amongst thousands of happy Irish people (or at least people wearing green and pretending to be Irish) on St. Patty’s Day…and still feel lonely. How is that even possible? Well, sometimes we have to battle old demons. They can weigh on us, exhaust us, slow us down.

As I was driving home, I began writing this story in my head…

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, young princess. Her name was Lulu. Princess Lulu loved to run. Running made her feel wonderful and beautiful and free.

One day, when Lulu was still just a girl, one of her friends decided to steal something from her. She trusted him. But he took something from Lulu and it caused her to break a little on the inside. He broke a part of her, the part that made her remember that she was beautiful. Lulu was sad. She didn’t want to get her friend in trouble and she thought she was to blame for allowing him to take it. So she kept it a secret. She didn’t tell anyone about what her friend had done for a long, long time.

A few years later, Lulu was separated from her father. She missed him tremendously. Her father was the person that reminded her that she was beautiful no matter what. And she started to forget. The broken part not only caused her to forget that she was beautiful and forget all the good things about herself, it started breaking up other parts too. It got worse. The longer she kept the secret, the harder it was to remember the girl she had once been and she started to believe that she was anything but beautiful.

Princess Lulu still loved to run. It still made her feel good. But it no longer made her feel beautiful. Now it made her feel tough. And if she was tough, then she felt powerful, and that would show other people that they couldn’t take things away from her.

But then, one day many years later, her father came back. She was scared; she didn’t want him to see the brokenness that made her feel so yucky. But her father had a special mirror that allowed Lulu to see not only her beauty on the outside, but more importantly all of the beautiful parts on the inside. Her father already knew about the broken parts, and he could help put them back together. He showed her that she was beautiful even without the part that was missing. Slowly, her heart began to mend and the more beauty she could see in herself, the more beautiful she became.

When she ran, it was no longer about feeling beautiful or feeling tough, it was just about being who she was and reminding herself how far she had come, all those miles that were behind her. It was about reminding herself that she wasn’t broken anymore.

Today when I ran, I wasn’t running for me. I was running to try to prove something, but I was carrying around so much weight that it just didn’t work. I forgot how far I’ve come. I forgot to just be me. And the more things went wrong, the more I slowed myself down worrying about them. So, even though I didn’t hit my goal this time, I guess I didn’t entirely blow it, because as always, I learned a lesson from the experience.

So, do you want to know the rest of the story? What happened to Princess Lulu? Well, the story isn’t over yet. It’s still being written. But you should know that Princess Lulu is healthy and happy, most of the time anyway. She will never get back what that boy who claimed to be her friend took away from her, but she has learned to look beyond it. She no longer feels like a victim of his theft. And she knows she is not defined by the part that is missing. Some days she feels beautiful and other days she wrestles with what exactly that means. But no matter how she sees herself, she knows that her father always sees her in that special mirror and she knows that, more than anything, she is loved.

Wearing green and ready to run with one of my favorites.

It’s Magic

It’s funny how workouts have a way of mimicking life. We have good days and bad days; likewise, we have good workouts and bad workouts. As I was on my way to the pool this morning, I got a text from my best friend, Britta. She has finally entered the world of texting, it’s still rare, but it does happen on occasion. You may recall a post I did about a month ago called Why I Run, which was a response to Britta asking that very question. She was, at that point, considering signing up for the Chicago Marathon. Well, here’s the update. Despite Active.com’s epic fail the day registration opened and then later crashed, Britta managed by some miracle to clinch a place on that first day. Last week, I was one of 36,000 runners who entered the lottery for the remaining 15,000 or so spots available. I had slightly less than a 50/50 shot, but it was out of my hands. This morning, I woke up to find the email that read, “Congratulations! You have been selected to register for the 2013 Bank of America Chicago Marathon”. Awesome. I have the opportunity to run 26.2 miles with Britta in the city that cemented our friendship for life. It just really doesn’t get any better than that.

So, anyway, back to the text Britta sent me this morning. Here’s our conversation:

B: Just ran seven miles and felt like crap every step of the way. I need more sleep…

B again: But that’s the first time I’ve felt yucky so that’s something.

RRG: It happens. We all have a bad run once in a while.

B: Until two weeks ago, I haven’t run seven miles since college. Again, I will take the positive little steps, literally.

RRG: Exactly! And on that note, I’m getting in the pool. J

If you recall, Britta is the swimmer. So it’s funny how we’ve taken up each other’s sport. But the theme of this conversation is so true. Some days, I go run and I feel fantastic. Other days, I run and it’s fine, nothing special. And still other days, I run and it’s like I would rather be rolling around in a pile of nails and shards of broken glass on a bed of hot coals. Some days, we just don’t have it. That’s not just running, that’s life. No matter the amount of coffee or Midol or whatever I think I need, sometimes I just feel like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and I spend the whole day in a funk. Those are the days, or the workouts, that you just have to power through so you can get to the end and say “I made it. And that’s good enough”.

Oddly, I jumped into the pool today and had the exact same experience. After a brief warm-up, Andy asked me, “How’d that feel?” I responded simply, “Stiff”. I wasn’t feeling comfortable in the water. I was tired. My shoulder hurt. Blah, blah, blah. So, what do you do when you’re just not feeling it? Well, you suck it up and you keep going. I did some drills, that got me loosened up and I felt a little better. Then Andy said, “Ok, it’s time to try swimming 500 meters without stopping, no breaks at the wall”. Oy vey! Unlike Britta not running 7 miles since college (I won’t date us here and say just how many years that’s been), I have never swam 500 m without stopping, not ever in my life. I’ve stayed afloat for that long, but never actually swam freestyle all the way. It was go time!

If you had told me just 2 months ago, that I would swim 500 meters in approximately 12 minutes and feel like I could keep on going, I would have told you that you were batshit crazy! (Sorry, I usually try to keep things G-rated…or PG at the most, but I needed to make a point) Somewhere over the past 8 weeks, Lindsey learned how to SWIM. But guess what? If I would have bailed because of all the excuses I was conjuring up in my head, I wouldn’t have even known I could do that. I needed to just get out of my head and stop over-thinking. I’ve always had a tendency to over-think and over-analyze ev-er-y-thing, from workouts to life in general: Why does my shoulder hurt? What if he doesn’t ever call? Why didn’t so-and-so respond to that email? What will all those people think of me if I do my own thing instead of going along with the majority? (Someone please tell me I’m not the only one who does this) But let’s think about this, if there’s nothing we can do about it, why worry about it?!

Something Andy said to me in the pool today as I was struggling along, was, “Strive for consistency, expect anything BUT.” That’s so true. Consistency and pace are key! Especially when we’re talking about going the distance. But we have to be prepared to roll with the punches and power through when we’re having a bad workout. Fighting through when we’re just not feeling it is what makes us stronger. Wouldn’t it be fantastic if life was always consistent, too? Well, no, actually. There is something to be said for breaking the status quo. Sure it would be great if we could avoid the hurts and the heartaches (or the shoulder aches), but it’s the pain that makes us grow. And if we didn’t feel the yucky stuff, we wouldn’t appreciate the good stuff so much. The lows might be lower, but that makes the highs higher too.

I’ve already admitted to my reality TV addiction. Last night I was watching The Biggest Loser (Yes, I watched The Bachelor finale, too) and Jillian said so many things that struck a major chord with me. The best one was this, “Here’s the thing-you try and you fail, you try and you fail, but you know why you get up every day and try again? For THIS moment. This moment right here. This is what you fight for. And it doesn’t happen often, but when it does happen, it’s Magic. And it’s worth it.” Amen, Sister!

Something else Jillian said was, “It’s about a girl that lives the life SHE wants, who follows HER dreams and who does not hang her state of being on the outside world”.

We don’t get the magic moments every day, we may even go years without one. It’s taken a lot of hard work for me to become that girl who doesn’t hang her state of being on what anyone in this world sees. But I am living the life I want and I am following MY dreams. It’s Magic. And it IS worth it!

RRG and B…this is approximately what we looked like the last time B ran 7 miles. I tried to use effects to enhance the photo, not sure it really helped.

Finding Purpose in the Rain

The other day I saw one of those silly ecards on Facebook that was exactly perfect. It read, “I don’t go crazy. I am crazy. I just go normal from time to time. Get it right.” That pretty much describes every runner I know. Otherwise, why would I have gladly gone out into a downpour this morning and run 17 miles? I started at 9:34am. By 9:37, my braids were soaked, my shoes were squishy and there were streams of water pouring off both sides of my navy blue FLEET FEET hat. By the time I finished I was reminiscent of the scene in the movie League of Their Own where the announcer says, “And then there’s Marla Hooch. What a hitter.” It wasn’t my most gloriously attractive moment, to say the least, but I got it done.

So, picture this: Linds J running 3 loops around Creve Coeur Lake in the driving rain. Every once in a while I would tip my head toward the sky to let the rain fall on my face, I could feel myself smile, and I would close my eyes. Lindsey quirk #5: Sometimes I try to run as long as I can with my eyes closed. I find it a good form of release, and I especially like doing this on a long straight downhill. I’m sure eventually I’m going to bite it. Probably really hard. But until the day comes when I go careening down the side of a hill, rolling through trees and brush, resulting in stitches and/or broken bones, I will likely continue this practice. Anyway, I was out there to put in the miles all by my lonesome today, but weirdly, I was not the only one. There were several other runners on the path and as we would pass each other, we exchanged that slight smile and knowing glance that says, “So you’re crazy too.”

And here’s the other thing, while I was out there getting after it, I had about 25 friends that were doing something even more ridiculous. 13 miles of trails in the rain at Cuivre River State Park for the race Quivering Quads. From what I hear, it was a total muddy mess. And I think that sounds absolutely, spectacularly awesome! Like I said, as runners, we’re all crazy.

Runners, let’s face it, we’re a little bit cultish. I mean that in a good way, of course. Or as my non-runner friend, Ben, says, “Runners are all drinking the Kool-aid, but it’s more like a protein shake.”

Seriously, think about it. Anytime a runner finds themself in a room full of mostly strangers, we still have a way of gravitating to other runners. It starts out with an, “Oh, you run too? What’s your favorite flavor of Gu?” Afterwards comes a brief assessment period to size each other up with questions like: How many marathons have you run? Ever done an Ultra? What’s your PR?

Eventually, you and your running acquaintance find yourselves huddled in the corner where the true bonding begins as you discuss things like stress fractures and where you were on the course the year they cancelled the Chicago marathon because it was so bloody hot and the water got lost. By the time you’re being dragged out the door, you and your new bestie have become facebook friends, you’ve tweeted about this awesome kindred spirit you’ve just met and you have plans to run together next weekend.

But why do we do it? Why do we willingly go out in weather worse than the postman would and put our bodies through such torture? Well, we do it in the name of fun. We do it for discipline. Sometimes we do it out of guilt, knowing how we’ll feel if we don’t. We do it for bragging rights. But we also do it for purpose.

At the end of my run today, I found a new friend hanging out in the pavilion at Creve Coeur. As I stretched a very tight IT band, Ed and I started talking. When he was younger his goal had been to break the 4 minute mile. The closest he ever got was 4:08. Umm, yeah, he passed the sizing-up assessment with flying colors. But not just because of his speed. Now Ed has Stage 4 Colon Cancer with metastasis to the liver. He’s had baseball sized tumors removed and ongoing chemo. Just like my friend, Teri, who I’ve talked about before, he is continuing his athletic feats while fighting a battle for his life. I have nothing but respect for these folks, especially as I think about how much easier it is for my healthy body to go run 17 miles.

And earlier this week, I made another new friend, who I fit with new running shoes at the store. Douang recently lost her 22 month old child, who was diagnosed with Leukemia at only 6 weeks old. I can’t imagine anything worse in life than the pain of that. She said she took up running to find purpose and to just keep going.

We all have storms in life. They all look different. You never know what’s going to be thrown your way. Running has been a constant in my life, but the storms have blown through. Some were just a passing shower, and some have been more catastrophic. Some have delivered me to a point where I wanted to just stop eating altogether; running gave me a reason to eat. I knew I needed food to have enough energy. If I didn’t eat, I couldn’t run.

Douang was right, running gives us purpose when we want to throw in the towel and quit. Or when we don’t even know what we want or what the next step is. Storms in life will come and go. During the times that the rain falls hard we learn to appreciate, even more, the days when the sun is shining.

It’s funny. As I sit here typing this, the sun is starting to come out after a LOT of rain. Which is appropriate seeing as I am currently entering a season of life where it feels like the sun is shining after running at least 17 miles in the rain. I know it’s going to storm again eventually, so in the meantime, I’ll keep running. I’ll keep logging the miles in any kind of weather, just to stay prepared for whatever comes my way. Running won’t save me, but it might just give me a reason to get out of bed on the rainy days.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a pint of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch in my freezer that is calling my name. I’m going to eat the whole flipping thing. And then lapse into a post 17-miler coma.

RRG after a very wet 17 miles. Shirt says Running on Faith…because sometimes that’s all you’ve got to go on.

Stair Repeats and Blondie Bars

What’s worse than being stuck at home with a puking kid for two days? Being stuck at home with a puking kid for two days and making the bad decision to bake. Because when you’re stuck in a house with just one other person most of the time, who happens to be managing only Gatorade and saltines, you find yourself eating the entire pan of Trader Joe’s Blondie Bars. Ugh.

After 2 days of that, I was in serious need of a run. Especially since my calves were still ridiculously tight from another bad choice I made earlier in the week. On Monday, I went to boxing. Then I decided to go for a run at the mud pit called Castlewood State Park. Now, I love to run in the mud, but I only managed about 3 miles because the mud was more like clay that was clinging to my shoes making it feel like I was running with cinderblocks strapped to my feet. So, I gave up that idea and decided to run the stairs. I didn’t just run them once, or twice. Not even 5 times. I ran the Castlewood stairs 10 times. Yeah, that’s right, I said TEN. I’m not sure what got into me, maybe it was Kanye singing “N-now that that don’t kill me, can only make me stronger”. Or maybe it was my determination to do even better this year on Leg 19 of the Smoky Mountain Relay in April (5.5 miles over a 2,500 foot incline on gravel in the pitch dark-Bring it!) Whatever it was, it seemed like a good idea the first time up the stairs. But by round 7, I couldn’t even really feel my legs. By the time I got back to my car in the parking lot, my quads were shaking and I had a hard time removing my Cascadia’s from my feet.

I always say its two days after a tough workout that the pain is the worst. So, here we are, it’s Wednesday, and my calves are on fire. I’m hydrated. I tried foam rolling. That was only minimally helpful. I knew I needed to go for a run to stretch it out. But after sitting around watching TV and eating Blondie Bars for 30some hours, I was severely lacking motivation and energy to get off the bar stool my butt had become glued to. I needed to tap into another source. Question: What is in perpetual motion and has the energy of a puppy on steroids? Answer: My 7 year old. So, after I picked the older kids up from school, I said, “Hey Ethan, you wanna go for a run around the lake with me?” He said, yeah, sure, but could I wait 10 minutes for him to get ready. Uh, yeah, cause I’m gonna need at least that long to get motivated to do this. It’s only 1.25 miles around the little lake we live on. It really shouldn’t be this challenging. I figured we’d go around twice, maybe three times. So, we got ready, we went around the lake once, plus a little more, for a total of 1.59 miles. We didn’t even run the whole thing because E kept getting a side cramp and needing to walk it off. I don’t think either one of us broke a sweat. I’m not sure I burned more than 15 calories. And my calves are still killing me.

So, what’s the moral of this story? I have absolutely no idea. I guess it’s don’t run stairs repeats at Castlewood when you’re going to be stuck at home eating Blondie Bars for two days.

Man I can’t wait to get out there and log some miles tomorrow. But I think I might stay away from hills for another day or so. And I foresee see a big salad in my future.

Ethan and I after his first 5k in November 2012

A confession…

I am obsessed with movies. All movies. Comedies. Classics. Action. Drama. Musicals. You name it.

My brother and I actually have a secret language. We speak movie lines. We do this so often that sometimes people who know us well will hear us talking and say, “What movie is that from?” And one of us will respond, “It’s not. I just said it.” I can also speak this language with the rest of my immediate family, my cousins, other extended family members, and the occasional non-Jacobs clan foreigner.

Disclaimer: I will only say this once, and only once, if anyone attempts to make fun of me for what I am about to say, you are taking your life into your own hands…I will plead temporary insanity. But here’s my confession. I have a secret addiction to sappy, cheesy girl movies. Otherwise known as, chick flicks. I don’t like to admit this because I’m concerned that the negative connotations associated with enjoying such movies, may tarnish my reputation as a badass. But I’m about to quote a movie of this genre, so I figured I would just out myself already and be done with it. So, there ya have it, I like sappy movies. The Notebook, Love Actually, The Holiday, Letters to Juliet, When Harry Met Sally, all of them. If there’s an insanely hot, buff, young stud as the leading man, all the better. Preferably the likes of Jude Law, Vince Vaughn or Ryan Gosling. And Ladies, who’s with me in thinking that Taye Diggs really needs to do a nice romantic lead? One word…Yummy. And yes, I cry during the bombing scene of Pearl Harbor and when the old people are laying in their bed while the water rises in Titanic.

So, anyway, the other night I was watching Eat, Pray, Love. No one does cheesy girl movies better than Julia Roberts. Am I right? Well, in this scene of this particular flick, she was thinking about leaving an unhappy marriage. She said, or rather, she was thinking… “The only thing more impossible than staying, was leaving. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I just wanted to slip quietly out the back door and not stop running until I reached Greenland”.

I know that feeling. There’s running. And there’s running away from something. I used one to do the other. I ran my first marathon in 2001, and then I had three kids from February of 2003 to July of 2007. I ran a half marathon in between each of my pregnancies to make sure I got my body back down to size and to feel good about myself. Ethan was 4 1/2 months old when I turned 30 and I was determined to be wearing my skinny jeans for my birthday. I did. I ran the Chicago Half the week before. I’m still not even sure how I trained for that with an infant. But it was after my youngest was born that my running took on a life of its own. I was a busy mom of 3, not yet school age, kiddos. It was my sanity to get to the gym every day, pass off my little ones and jump on a treadmill. I ran my second marathon just after my 3^rd baby’s first birthday and I didn’t slow down. It became an obsession. I worked in a run where ever I could. But the ones I looked the most forward to where those long Saturday morning training runs. The longer, the better. I was like Forrest Gump, I just kept going. I wanted to run and not stop until I reached Greenland. At the time all of that was happening, I didn’t realize what was going on. It’s taken some deep introspection (and a lot of therapy) to figure out what I was doing. I wasn’t just running; I was running away. Running was my attempt to get away from my life, a life I had lost control of. Running was my escape. My escape from a marriage that I didn’t know how to change, or I was too scared to change, because I had spent so much of my life running from the things that I didn’t know how to confront.

Leaving my marriage is without a doubt the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life, but I had to confront it. There was no running from it. I couldn’t just slip out the back door. I had to stand strong and face it. And now that I’ve learned how to face things, when I do run, I don’t feel like I’m running from something, I’m running TO something. I’m running to accomplish a goal, running to get healthy, running to feel strong, running to embrace freedom. Later in that scene of Eat, Pray, Love Julia says, “Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.” My failed marriage left me feeling like my life was in ruin, but I guess now I run to continue my transformation. I run to grow and to prove that transformation to myself. Because I don’t need to prove anything to anybody else.

However, just to set the record straight (and to reclaim my rightful badass status), I can quote Tommy Boy in it’s entirety, I really wanted to name my youngest son Maximus after Russell Crowe’s Gladiator, my favorite Bond movie is Dr. No, and who doesn’t love Indiana Jones? Any questions?

RRG and “Little” brother after the Surf City half-marathon 2011. I’m pretty sure we were quoting movie lines during that race.