Category Archives: Thoughts on Life

Not An Afternoon Person

You always hear people say, “I’m not a morning person,” or “I AM a morning person!” It’s normally one or the other, few in-betweens.

Rarely do you hear people discuss their preferences/aversions for other times of the day.

Well, I am here to officially state my most recent self-realization:

I am NOT an afternoon person.

In fact, I’d venture to say that I rather dislike the afternoon, and I’d be fine if we just skipped over it.

Pretty positive that you all have guessed by now that I am 100% a morning person. Not only do I preference the morning for running, but I just generally enjoy the energy and promise that comes in the earlier hours. I realize that this is certainly in my nature, and for many people—no matter how hard they try—will never be morning people. Such as my own sister, or this girl. This is no fault to them—and in fact, their productivity at the hours including a “PM” in the title really impresses me.

So let’s talk about why, to me, the morning is spectacular and afternoons suck.

I now pronounce you oatmeal and PB. You may now be consumed by Robyn,

An obvious starting point…breakfast. Breakfast is THE BEST and while I enjoy every time I get to feed, breakfast is always my favorite. Several of my favorite foods are of the breakfast variety, and I’m pretty sure there is no one on Earth who dislikes going out to breakfast. And BRUNCH? Don’t even get me started.

Second, the running. With ever present variables involved with running—namely weather, traffic, and time—the morning consistently proves to be a superior time to get some miles in.

There is very little traffic (aka: stoplights are just pretty lights to look at rather than obey), the temperature is typically cooler and calmer (rain in the PNW tends to hold off in the AM hours), and once you’re done—YOU’RE DONE. No waiting and waiting and waiting throughout the day to run after work, when you’re already ready to crawl into bed.

Or at least—that’s when I’m ready to crawl in bed. Or watch Gossip Girl. Or better yet—a combination of the two with a jar of PB.

Generally, I’m just more productive in the morning. I answer more emails, I stay on task, and I’m generally in a better mood. Yes, this could be a direct result of the fact that I run in the morning—but I think it’s more in my hardwiring than anything else.

Self-photography at 5:30 am—obviously productive things are happening.

So between the hours of 4:45 am (peachy wakeup time, eh?) and, oh, let’s say 1:00 PM—I’m a machine. It’s amazing the amount of things I can accomplish in this time frame, particularly before 8 am. I am typically worked out, showered, dressed, breakfasted, commuted, and at my desk by 8. And on days when I consider putting a bra on an accomplishment (see: all Sundays in the winter), this seems somewhat impressive.

So why, then, after 1 PM does my day start to suck? Honestly, I don’t really know—but slowly but surely, between 1 and 5, my productivity, energy, and attention span start to spiral in a bottomless pit of death. Around 3:15 I start imagining pajamas, horizontal positioning, and a bag of trail mix. That fantasy gets more elaborate as the minutes tick by, and when I think it’s finally time to peace out to Lazyland, it’s only 3:31.

Now, there is a very obvious explanation for this phenomenon: I wake up in the deep buttcrack of dawn, so obviously my energy teeters as the day progresses. Kind of true, but not entirely the reasoning.

You see, around 6, I start to perk up again—as if by some afternoon-turned-evening miracle, the pit of despair has spat me back out into the real world. Once the afternoon is over, I turn back into a milder version of my morning self and can generally maintain some semblance of a functioning person until bedtime.

Also, dessert comes during this time of day, an obvious incentive for some mood-boosting.

So why so much happiness and glitter in the morning, muddy sloth-like behavior in the afternoon, and normalcy in the evening?

My justification: I am not an afternoon person.

Tell Kristin Bell we can be friends.

Just like so many people aren’t morning people, I’m declaring myself not an afternoon person.

I know that a lot of people experience that 2 pm slump that 5 Hour Energy loves to capitalize on, but this is a whole new level of lethargy. It’s really a general hatred for these hours of the day—and while I know it’s important to appreciate the time we’re given because it’s fleeting and blah blah blah…I just really would rather fast-forward through these hours of the day. And not just work days—no, this is a general statement about every day.

The only thing these hours are good for is optimal sun exposure in the summer, and otherwise—they do nothing for me.

What spawned all this afternoon-hating, you may be wondering? Well, in an out-of-character move I decided to move my run from yesterday morning to the PM hours. Normally, if I bail on a morning workout—I take it as a rest day. But no, I went the fateful route of deciding to postpone my run in favor of more sleep. The extra sleep was nice—but when I was grumbling and cursing my way through my PM run yesterday, I gladly would have taken less sleep over that misery.

Seriously it BLEW, and I don’t know how in the world so many of you workout in the afternoon. I mean, hat’s off for sure, because to me that takes about 6,000x more energy than rolling out of bed and sweating in the AM. It took me oh probably 6.5 miles to finally be like, ok—I guess this isn’t too bad, but believe me it took a lot of angry thoughts before I made it to that point.

So, I’ll stick to my morning rituals, and accept the fact that I’m useless human from 1-5 pm.

Or I’ll get 5 Hour Energy to sponsor me.

WHAT ARE YOU? Afternoon or morning? Night owl only? High on life 24 hours a day?

Central Governor Theory

3 Replies

I’ve officially indoctrinated myself into the ranks of serious runnerd.

I bought a running textbook. Not a novel, not a book of motivational quotes, not “Runner’s World.”

A mother effing textbook. The Lore of Running, to be specific. And the worst part? I’m stupid excited about it. I’ve already planned early bedtimes of sitting with a highlighter and going through each chapter like I’m studying for a test.

Who am I?! Either this is a sign that I might need to go back to school sooner than I thought, or I’ve really got it bad for running. And because I’m really digging the whole not-ever-having-homework-or-taking-tests lifestyle right now, I’m gonna go with the latter.

It all started with another running book, Eat and Run—the one we’ve already talked about. Scott Jurek was merrily telling me all about his adventures in 100 mile races and whatnot, when he said something that hit me straight between the eyes. Or, more so, it hit me straight in the part of my brain that is haunted by the Tacoma Marathon.

{Yes, still talking about that one—sorry. I thought I was done, but this discovery was just too enlightening to ignore. I promise I’ll stop talking about that race someday}

Truth be told, in many ways I have left that race behind me as I’ve moved onto other endeavors. I certainly learned a lot from it, but it was a fairly traumatic event and I don’t want the bad parts of it to overwhelm my ambitions and love for this sport.

However, to this day I haven’t been able to answer exactly why what happened, well, happened. I was completely depleted and fatigued, and I’d reached my own physical threshold. However, I still hadn’t been able to come up with why, after 26 miles of running, my body decided to quit when the finish line was in view.

Enter, Scott Jurek. He was telling a story about the Western States 100—a notable race in California that courses up and down mountains for a hundred miles. Scott was pacing a friend, who was about to win the race, and right when they got to the local high school track (the location of the race’s finish line) and the finish came into view, his friend collapsed—unable to move.

The circumstances sounded very similar to mine—and as Scott continued to tell the story, my interest heightened and it all started to sound frighteningly parallel. Scott stated that in his opinion, when his friend’s brain processed the finish line in sight, it told his body, “Hey dude, you’re done. You can quit now.” Subsequently, his body gave out, just stopped, because his mind had resolved that it could stop working so hard.

It’s all very hippy dippy stuff, but hear me out. This guy was able to run, up and down mountains no less, for ONE HUNDRED MILES without faltering. Of course he was tired, battling, and exhausted, but there was something that was able to keep him going. But then, right as the finish line comes into view, that same body that’d been working toward this finale just decided to stop? The timing seems all too peculiar, just as my own seemed in the Tacoma Marathon.

Scott goes onto describe some actual scientific rationale behind this occurrence—termed the Central Governor Theory by Dr. Timothy Noakes. In essence, the theory advocates for the power of the mind over the body in endurance sports.

“The central governor is a proposed process in the brain that regulates exercise in regard to a neurally calculated safe exertion by the body. In particular, physical activity is controlled so that its intensity cannot threaten the body’s homeostasis by causing anoxia damage to the heart.”

In lamens terms, our endurance is not only an effect of our training or our VO2 max, but of a part of our brain that strategically plans out our exertion levels based on the required mileage, time frame, etc. It’s essentially a case for mind over matter, and it advocates that our Central Governor has means of protecting us from overexertion.

It’s a debatable idea, have no doubt. But, it is one that has been cited and used in many sports studies and theories for years.

The thing that struck me about it is that it spoke so closely to the feelings I experienced during the Tacoma Marathon. I had passed my own limits for a good deal of that race: I was hurting, I was done, but for some reason I was able to keep going. And it wasn’t pride at that point—because no matter how much I wanted that BQ and I wanted to keep going, my fatigue had overtaken my pride.

But I was able to keep going, and my legs seemingly had a life of their own. Until, that is, I saw the finish line. I was grateful to see it, have no doubt, but it felt like my desire to be done had overtaken the strength that had kept me going. When I fell, it was because my body had given up, and although I had been able to continue to push it along for all those miles of pain, for some reason—so close to the end, they’d won the battle.

If you attribute the Central Governor Theory to my experience in that race, it makes a whole lot of sense—particularly the part where I fell right before the finish line. In a direct comparison to Scott’s story about his Western States 100 friend, my brain resolved that it could be done upon seeing the end, and my body responded with absolute abdication.

Now, I fully realize that there are a number of factors that could have come into play in the end of that race. I was entirely depleted, have no doubt; a 105 degree fever, cramping legs, and complete fatigue undoubtedly contributed to the time I spent in the medical tent afterward.

However, those factors would have existed whether or not I collapsed so close to the end. I’ve thought all along that it was my mind more than anything else that was the ultimate reason for the disconnect that occurred at mile 26. It felt like a cord between my body and my mind was snapped, and I couldn’t get the two to work in sync any longer.

So yes, my physical exertion was beyond a manageable level. But there was something more that occurred on that day—and the Central Governor Theory, at least to me, explains better than anything else the final factor that came into play.

Again, I promise that I have and will stop analyzing that race. I have gotten over it, and I know one day it’s going to be an ancient memory. But once this idea of the power of the mind was presented to me, I couldn’t help but draw comparisons to that day. Because that day was the first time, and perhaps the only time, where I can say that I relied solely on my mind to carry on when my body was done. My mind was the only thing I had left for a long time in that race—and this theory presented an explanation for just how that dependence actually worked.

I think what I love so much about the Central Governor Theory is the theme that running is so much more than just our physical abilities. We hear time and time again that “Running is a mental sport,” and yet it’s so much easier to measure the physical side of it. We concentrate on times, VO2 max, lactate threshold, maximum heart rate, and mileage so often as the means in which we measure our physical abilities.These things have a lot of merit, of course, but there is something more to running than just the physiology. It’s the reason we can get out of bed in the morning when our bodies are so much happier staying under the covers. It’s the reason why we can sprint to a finish line even though we’ve been dead for miles. Our brains have a lot more power over our abilities that we even realize—and while that’s not to say that we shouldn’t concentrate on the tangible numbers, I truly believe that to be a good runner, we must remember that one of the most valuable tools we have is the one inside our head.

So, in going back to the textbook—The Lore of Running was written by the Central Governor Theorist himself, Timothy Noakes. The book discusses his theory, but also any and all things related to running. It’s definitely somewhat biased and opinion based, as essentially all running books are, however I’m excited to read what more this South African bloke has to say in favor of the power of our minds in relation to the power of our running.

The only problem? Everything is in kilometers, meaning he’s forcing me to exercise my brain while siphoning through chapters. Tricky man that Noakes.

Happy Friday! Happy running 🙂

Get Comfortable

4 Replies

I can’t even begin to describe how nice it feels to write a bit about running right now. For the past few days I’ve been grinding on documents nonstop at work, and I’ve barely had time to use the bathroom let alone do any blogging updates.

Alas, a break in the day has presented itself.

Hello!

On Tuesday, I completely contradicted my current training M.O. and decided to spice up my normal “Ten-Mile Tuesday” run.

{I love Ten-Mile Tuesday, and it’s been one of my favorite workouts for almost a year—even when I’m not marathon training. It’s always in the morning, it’s always moderately paced, just lovely}

When I set off for this jaunt, I had it in my head that I would go slow-ish. I had 8:30s or so in mind, and I knew I wanted to be comfortable. It took about 3 miles or so to really get a steady pace (doesn’t it always?) but once I was cooking I realized that I was hovering below the 8 minute/mile mark, and it wasn’t too awful. However, I knew that I’d be feeling it toward the end of the run—and since this wasn’t about speed I knew it was smarter to stay at a comfortable pace.

But then I kinda starting talking back to myself. I was realizing that recently, this pacing is my comfortable pace. I’ve been feeling lighter and more efficient during my quicker runs, and the only thing that makes me shy away from committing to increasing my average speed overall is my fear of getting uncomfortable. The only discomfort, however, comes when I see watch, and I freak out and slow down—only to feel a little less natural and wary.

So yesterday, instead of constantly telling myself to reel it in, I started a new mantra—which I repeated over and over again.

“Get comfortable.”

You see, I definitely have a running comfort zone, as I’m sure many of us do. For a long time, it was 9 minute miles. It was a pace I knew that I could hold for a long time, and it was the pace that I used constantly throughout my first marathon training cycle. Once I got to race day, I was so confident in my 9 min/mile abilities, I knew that I’d be fine at 8:50s.

Since that time, I’ve gotten a bit faster and my comfort zone is now around an 8:30/mile pace. There was a point in time it was lower (before my horrid bursitis kicked in earlier this year), and I’m starting to feel like it might be time to hold myself to a higher standard. If my watch is the only thing that’s scaring me away from a faster average pace, what’s the harm in trying one on for size?

Which is why on Tuesday, I decided to forego my current relaxed training plan and focus on maintaining a certain, faster speed over those miles. I settled on 8:05, and instead of trying to go faster and slower, I was preaching to myself to simply “get comfortable” right there. I know my comfort zone well enough to know when I’m either behind or ahead of it, but in this case—I was simply trying to trick myself to get into that comfort zone.

And how did I bode? I felt great, and I felt that aside from the placebo exhaustion effect of seeing speedier times on my Garmin, I was—in fact—comfortable with that speed.

Which makes me wonder— where is the line between our physical capabilities and our perceived capabilities? When I talked about that 9:00/mile comfort zone that I’d settled in for so long, was that really my running happy place, or was I simply settling for what I knew I could do?

Although there’s a definite mental prowess to runners that many lack, I’m realizing that it’s just as easy to fall into a running rut as it is anything else. We get in a safe zone. Which is fine, truly, because goodness knows it’s better to be running safely than not running at all.

But, there’s also something to be said for removing our self-created limits. Of course, we don’t want to be reckless and haphazard about it (hello, injuries and burnout), but sometimes it’s good to question if there’s a little bit more we’re not allowing ourselves to take on.

For me, this was decreasing the average length of my weekly runs, and increasing speed over shorter distances. I knew that I could knock out a long run at a moderate pace, which is why I settled in a routine of a 10 mile, 12 mile, and one long(er) run on the weekends. This was my routine for as long as I can remember—all the runs were at the same speed, and I’m realizing now they were all a bit mediocre. But after my knee blew up, I flailed in Tacoma, and I was sidelined with IT band woes, I knew that something needed to change.

I still wanted to run, and I still wanted to race, but I needed to reclaim control over my running and get back to the magic of the sport.

By introducing myself to the things I had so often shied away from—speed work, shorter mileage but faster times, and additional hills—I have a newfound confidence in not only my running but in the sport itself. It’s wonderful to see that something so simple as running can be approached so many different ways. And the best part? There isn’t only one right way.

I think what I’m most pleased with is that I feel that I’m slowly but surely finding a way to run that works for me. Through this Chicago training “program” I’ve been following, I’ve been getting faster, I’m recovering quicker, and my IT band injury has evaporated. I credit this to a few things, but primarily to the big alterations I’ve made to my running. The shoes, the speed, the rest—they’ve all been things I’ve changed in order to better my running, and at least for now…they seem to be working.

So I’m going to continue my less-strict approach to training. But I’m also going to continue to allow myself to “get comfortable” with the times, distances, and workouts that I almost always deem uncomfortable. This doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, or even suck, sometimes—but it means that I’m not going to be afraid of pushing away from “security blanket” workouts and try getting a little creative.

What’s your running comfortable space? A certain distance? A certain speed? A certain workout? How do you think you can try and test yourself?

Dear Internet, I suck today.

4 Replies

Optimistic title, no?

Confession: This is not the first draft of this post.

Weird, I know, because normally I operate on the “word vomit with some typos” single draft method when writing my blog posts. But not today. I was trying desperately to feign some version of my normal Friday cheerfulness and obnoxious rambling about how everything is perfect and running is super and puppies are cute and sequins should be everywhere.

Running is super, puppies are cute, and sequins should in fact cover more things than it already does.

But, I couldn’t even fake it today. I’m in a funk, and I didnt’ want to admit it.

After some flailing attempts to write out my feelings about “FRIDAY AND WEEKENDS ARE AWESOME!” and all that, I realized it was bullshit, because I actually don’t feel too pumped about much today, and it was all a lie to write a post acting like I was.

One big “select all” and “delete.” That’s what happened not too long ago, which leaves me here—admitting to both you, and myself, that I’ve been pissy today and didn’t want to admit it.

Why? No reason…which is always worse. When I’m in bad mood, 99% of the time I am either hungry or tired.

I’m like an infant, if you didn’t know that.

However, neither of those are the case. I’m caffeinated, I’m exercised, and generally things are pretty dang good. No reason bad moods suck, especially when I start getting down on myself for being pissy when things could (always) be much worse.

I’ll get over it, and I am sure you don’t want to hear me investigate the cause of my bitchiness any more. And I don’t either, which is why I’m here. Writing is theraputic, but only if you tell the truth. You see, earlier when I was trying to write about my favorite things, it felt tedious and annoying and I couldn’t muster any energy whatsoever to make my fingers type. That’s because my usual zest wasn’t there, and now that I’m actually writing about the way I’m really feeling—well, the word vomit is coming no problem.

Funny how that works, huh? Thinking back to all that writer’s block I experienced in college when writing about something I hated—it was always so difficult to force a paper out.

{But don’t worry expensive liberal arts institutions, that probably never, ever happens to anyone else.}

The truth is, good writing necessitates honesty. When I say “good” I’m not boasting about my blogging abilities—because goodness knows there is no Shakespeare over here. “Good” is more of a subjective term, and I always think that my “good” writing is the kind that has my real, honest-to-goodness voice behind it. That can only be done with brutal and sometimes harsh honesty—even when it means admitting to yourself that writing about random Favorite Things sounds like the worst thing in the world.

Why have I taken this long to tell you about why I suck today and didn’t write a post that probably no one cares much about? I don’t really know. But getting down the way I’m really feeling is always helpful, and I knew that instead of ignoring my blog and letting another day go by without posting—I might as well get some words out there.

One of the biggest reasons I started my blog was to have an outlet. Sure, I wanted to keep myself accountable in terms of training, and I wanted to connect with the online running community. But perhaps more than anything, I wanted and needed a place where I could let out some of the thoughts that go on in my head.

Since I was young, writing things down has always been a big help. I’m lucky I figured this out so young, but it’s something that has definitely taken practice and discipline. To this very day, I have to be very intentional when writing down the things I’m thinking—good or bad. It’s really easy to hide behind things that will distract us from our bad moods. My resort comes in the form of Gossip Girl episodes and bottomless bowls of trail mix, which is about 50% chocolate chips.

In my last post, I advocated for this type of relaxation. But, there’s a difference between relaxation and distraction, and that’s unfortunately what our unwinding habits can turn into. Which, once again, leads me back to why I’m here.

I want to be merry and peppy and favorite-y today, but I’m not.

And it’s okay, because I’d rather be honest than put on an act.

I’ll get over my funk, and I’m glad that I was able to realize that the trials and tribulations of Blair and Serena and all those other beautiful people wasn’t actually relaxing as it was distracting me from the fact that I’m funked out.

*If you’re wondering what the majority of yesterday afternoon and this morning looked like, I think you can guess*

That all might not make sense, and I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time waiting for some a-ha! lesson. I suppose the “lesson” is that sometimes it’s better to admit your problems than to pretend they aren’t there.

And believe me, I know a bad mood hardly qualifies as a problem. But, it’s a small scale example of something I think a lot of us do frequently. Finding an outlet for whatever it is that’s getting us down is the most important route to take, in my opinion, and for me—that’s here…and running.

Oh, this is a running blog? Have I been whining about nothing for this whole post while you wanted to talk about running?

Yea, I wished the same…and I’m sure soon enough I’ll be back in action, complete with sequins and exclamation points. And I need to get my act together, particularly because on Monday I have some pretty sweet news to share, and I won’t have a choice but to be pumped about it.

So, weekend, I’m going to squeeze every “stop being a bitch” activity out of you as I can…and if all else fails, I’ll rely on the Red Robin meal tonight that I’ve been crafting in my head since 9 am. Coping mechanisms people…I have many.

If you’re still there and feel like helping me find some joy in the world…what are YOU doing this weekend? Are you excited and glittery today, or are you hanging out in Oscar the grouch land with me? What are your bad mood coping mechanisms? What’s your outlet? Should I get the bacon cheeseburger tonight or the bacon cheeseburger? Oh, a spiked Freckled Lemonade you say? Done.

Perspective

1 Reply

Did I blog yesterday? No.

Was I going to blog yesterday? Yes.

So what happened? Well, consider my lack of communication an act of sparing readers from my down-in-the-dumps-ness. Yes, that makes sense.

You see, I had big plans for some positivity, some weekend recap, and some random banter. However, life chose to thwart that plan a bit—and alas, my ability to even fake happiness yesterday was completely zapped away. I didn’t feel I should divulge my feelings to the Internet, so I decided to follow the mantra that Mom always says, “It will be better in the morning.”

And you know what? It is. Sure, things are still pretty damn crappy, but thanks to my unavoidable optimistic hard-wiring, I’m feeling about 700% better than yesterday. And heavily caffeinated, which is a staple in the RB recipe book of creating a good mood.

But let’s back track a bit. Because despite my resentment toward the shit that’s gone down, I cannot leave you hanging like that. Note that I am wary about reporting personal, non-injury related bad news on my blog, however this isn’t so private. So, onward.

On Sunday, BF, my friend Anna, and I were headed east to do some hiking. BF was driving my car, while Anna and I followed in her own. To make a long story short, BF started going 30 on the highway, pulled over, we screwed around with some engine starting and stopping, and it was concluded that we needed to get the car towed. We still managed to get in our hike thanks to Anna’s vehicle, but at the end of the day BF and I spent our evening getting my beloved Glinda settled at an auto repair shop in West Seattle.

Gooooooooood times.

(Side note: AAA can see right through it when you try to get a membership after you need their services. In summary, get AAA before you need them—it’s worth it.)

Anyway, yesterday I went back to the auto shop with some high hopes for a simple, fixable, not-too-expensive diagnosis for my poor car.

Can you see where this is going?

Take the opposite of those high hopes, and that’s exactly what the mechanic got to tell me.

Essentially, my car needs a new engine, which including the labor involved in installing it, is going to come to oh just a little bit less than I initially paid for the car. Super duper fun times.

So, after a lot of discussion over what to do (you know how those conversations always need to happen in crappy car situations), I decided to bite the very expensive bullet and get my car fixed. It’s really, really not an ideal situation—but that was the best decision to make, and so all I can is move forward.

Other than feeling really bad for my car (she’s my baby!) and being pissed at the blow to my bank account, I was mostly just sad for all the things I wouldn’t be able to do/would need to put on hold due to this super inconvenient circumstance.

In truth, I was really just feeling sorry for myself. I spent most of yesterday alternating between crying and racking up a list of all the things I need to currently buy, pay off, and save for that will have to go to the back burner.

You know, because adding up all those things was really going to make me feel better about the whole thing.

It was a pity party to say the least, and while I’m still wallowing over the set-backs this will undoubtedly produce—the truth is, these things happen…and it’s going to be okay.

Sure, it sucks, and as a young 20-something I’m not exactly the most equipped person to handle the financial blow of it all. But, it really is all about perspective.

I might not be able to buy the road bike I’ve been planning on for a little while longer, but you know what? I’m still healthy, I’m still clothed, I’m still fed (a lot), and I’m going to be fine. There are many people who would have had to cut their losses completely in a scenario like this. And with that said, there are many people who don’t even have a car—nor the means of retaliating from a situation like this. When I can shift my perspective in that regard, it makes the whole scenario a lot more manageable.

Am I going to be paying an extra, hefty monthly bill for a while? Yes. But, it’s not the end of the world.

When I began realizing that this situation is only going to be as severe as I make it, I began to draw the same parallel to my lingering injury. The fact is, I’m still in pain, I’m still not feeling like I’ll be long running for a while, and I’m still in and out of very pissy moods about this whole thing. However, when I can pull out my better-self and think about this injury in the grand scheme of things, much like my car, it doesn’t seem to be such a big deal.

I can’t run right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t run again. I know I keep repeating this (mainly because I have to keep re-telling it to myself) but all runners get injured. You are almost as much a runner when you’re injured as when you’re busting out PRs…it just comes with the territory. When I think about all the professional and Olympic-bound (Kara, I love you) runners whom I admire and look up to, it’s comforting to realize that all of them, at one point or another, has been sidelined—and, obviously, that never stopped them from doing great things.

Being a great runner isn’t about always being able to bust out a marathon on a whim or running fast every single day. It’s not even about times, podiums, or number of medals hanging in our houses. It’s about having the mentality that no matter what situation we’re in, whether sidelined or on the race course, all we can do is our very best. If we do that, there’s nothing to be disappointed in.

The transition from the whole car perspective thing to my injury reflection was a bit janky, I realize, but I think the biggest lesson I’m coming to terms with is that no matter what the scenario…everything will really be okay. In the big picture, hiccups happen, but they are only as big as we make them out to be. Even when we’re feeling overwhelmed, sad, or generally pissed off at the things that have brought us down, it’s so important to remember that we are still in control—no matter our feelings to the contrary. Because we are…we just need to keep the reigns in our own hands instead of letting our emotions and stress take them away.

Okay, enough serious stuff. I will leave you with some pictures from the weekend, instead of detailing all the adventures. As I said on Friday, my friend Anna came to visit me, and we had a wonderful time. Here is some documentation of that wonderfulness in photos. Spoiler, there was a lot of food involved.

Ikea! Please note our new indoor tree. Name yet to be determined.

A trip to Via Tribunali in Upper Queen Anne was the ticket for our Saturday night feeding, and it did not disappoint in the least.

Whole bottle of wine at dinner, check.

…And what goes better with a bottle of wine than a huge floppy pizza? This was all mine, in case there was any confusion.

BF approves.

And obviously after you are full of wine and pizza…the next best move is for…

Molly Moons ice cream! No, both are not mine, this time…

So, obviously I have a certain tendency to take pictures at meals. No need to photograph our beautiful hike, or any other activities for that matter apparently…I promise to get better at this!

So, regardless of the car mishaps, my weekend was certainly fantastic, and I’m thankful to have such a wonderful friend who will venture across the state to eat, play, and laugh with me.

I hope your week is going well so far! And if it’s not, try taking some control over your situation, and remember that although things could be better, they could always be worse as well. And if all else fails, go find yourself a pint of B&Js, or a puppy to play with. Strangers’ puppies are perfectly acceptable.

Getting Uncomfortable

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TGIF

I really feel like I’m saying that a lot more frequently than normal. Again with time dwindling away…

Where does it go?!

Actually, I think I only feel like this because I always posts on Fridays, therefore my forced Friday acknowledgment makes the time seem to go quicker.

That’s my justification.

Hello! Welcome to the end of the week, and another round of “I have too many other things to say there I’m not doing Friday Favorites, AGAIN.”

Sure, I could save up all of my running-related thoughts for posts in the future, but I’m the kind of person who doesn’t necessarily like to wait on the things that are currently going on in my brain. Also, I never “draft” posts—that would be way too productive. I’m sure you thought I spend days ahead of time writing my posts, given their not-at-all rambling and stream of consciousness nature.

Sorry to let you down. I fly by the seat of my pants and often have typos.

So, despite my lack of dedication to Friday Favorites and my fear of the speed of time, I am generally feeling rather cheery today. Superb workout (including RUN!) and my beautiful, tall, law school attending bestie Anna is coming to visit for the weekend.

Friendship! This is actually one of the few “nice” pictures we’ve taken.

Anna and I get along for a number of reasons, but mainly because our friendship takes little effort; it’s easy, it’s fun, and it has no filters. We also enjoy many of the same things, namely being active and food—sometimes in that order, sometimes not. With that said, our weekend will consist of some hiking, some Ikea browsing (also known as people watching, impulse buying, and getting lost), and food consumption.

There, that’s more accurate.

Additionally, I have some pretty exciting endeavors/news in the works. Exciting is relative, meaning it might only be exciting for me, but I am PUMPED for some things going on in the near future. More on that on Monday! Let’s just say I spent the better part (aka: all of) yesterday morning plotting/emailing/texting/Tweeting with Nicole about some pretty sweet and sweaty plans. I love having people that can share in my athletic ~~delusions~~ ambitions.

Oh, you want a hint? Here.

I’m in this weird balancing act right now of settling into a routine of not running as much, trying new things, and wanting really bad to run again. The thing is, though, it’s becoming just that: a routine. And truthfully? I don’t hate it.

Yes, I love running all the time. Particularly long, salty-sweat face runs that leave me in a heap of endorphin-filled giddiness on the couch, whilst stuffing oatmeal in my face and planning my dessert for the day.

Running is the best. DUH.

But, I have to say I am really digging discovering all of my body’s short-comings and working on them.

Do I have calves that don’t fit into most boots? Yes. Do I have quads that could likely strangle someone? Yes, not a pleasant thought there. But other than that…I’m realizing that I have a lot of room for improvement in terms of my strength, and it’s both humbling and exciting to figure that out.

Case in point: the current state of my rear. It’s sore. It’s been sore since Wednesday. I definitely have not been massaging it in public.

With the exception of some occasional leg lifts, I rarely did any kind of glute work when I was logging heavy miles. This isn’t awesome…considering the strength of your rear muscles and the propensity of getting injured are directly related, but the truth is I never had any interest. I might love a long, exhausting run or a sweat-covered spin bike, but honestly…I actually shy away from things that I know will be hard. Once I am confident in doing something (such as the aforementioned cardio activities) I have no problem hopping right into them…but give me something I’ve never done before and I curl into a ball of stubborn reluctance.

And thanks to my new-found need and interest in testing out my weak points, I’m realizing that being a good athlete isn’t actually about focusing all our energy and attention into the things we’re good at. Sure, if we’re good at something—we want to capitalize on it, but being a good athlete is actually more about finding the areas we need to improve on more than the things we already excel in.

I am so guilty of getting into a place of routine with my workouts. I know they will be fulfilling enough to tide me over, I know that I will get through them no problem, so I’m content with never changing them. Sure, a 10-mile run every Tuesday is a great workout, and it kept me in great running shape, but hand me a pair of hand weights and make me do single-leg lunges? I turn into a crying toddler.

Do you see the imbalance? I think a lot of us do this…and although it’s great that we can excel and be great at certain things, that does not excuse us from making our bodies work hard in other capacities.

Which is a very wordy, roundabout way of bringing back to where I am now. I don’t think at least one of my muscle groups hasn’t been sore in the past two weeks. I’m doing exercises that I have long proclaimed to loathe, simply because they are hard. I’m accepting that not being the best in a class is okay, and I’m letting instructors give me advice.

And I’m loving it. I love being sore, even though it necessitates doing things that are uncomfortable or even painful. I love feeling that there’s a lot of room for improvement, and I love my new mentality of “all-around” fitness as opposed to the one-dimensional cardio focus that I tend to hide in.

This whole way of approaching my physical health hit me right between the eyes this morning when I thought about trying to run. And while I bellyache about not running, and all I seem to think and talk about is when I can run again…I somehow felt reluctant when it was go time. Was it because the walk/run is annoying? No, I’m getting to be okay with it. Was it because the weather was bad? No, no rain.

It’s because I knew it would be hard. Hard, sure, because of my persnickety IT band, but mainly just hard, physically. Even in marathon shape, you can’t go a month with minimal running and expect to just jump back into it effortlessly.

A part of my brain, the newly-developing humbled part, knew this as I went back and forth with the running decision. All of a sudden, my go-to, default mode of exercise has become a little more difficult to force out…and it scared me. It scared me the same way squats and lunges always scare me. It scared me the same way biking scares me, and lifting heavier weights, and trying a new yoga pose scares me.

(Side note: Running is hard no matter what. I am simply speaking as someone who is normally in running shape and is currently out of running.)

Running has become a little more ambiguous than I’m normally used to. That bothers me a little, but I’m happy that running can slowly become a part of the mix of things that I’m working on getting better at. I am fairly confident that once my injury whittles away, my running is going to come back no problem—but for now it’s something I need to challenge myself with. And that’s okay.

What’s my point? I don’t really know…there’s a lot of rambling going on in there.

Ultimately, I think I’m realizing the importance of leaving our comfort zones. You might be able to bust out miles week after week, but are you actually challenging yourself to be better?

I encourage you to look at the fitness safe zones you stick to—and maybe try and step out of them a bit. Improving upon your weak spots isn’t going to take anything away from the things you’re already exceptional at, and in fact—it will probably make you better in them. Whether it’s adding speed work to your training routine (I’m speaking to myself when I say this one) or going to a weight lifting class for the first time—try getting a little uncomfortable.

You’ll be sore, you probably won’t be the best in the class, and you will probably utter many swear words during the process. But you will positively leave in a better space than you started off in. We cannot get better by sticking to the same routines—we plateau, we get bored, and eventually our fitness can actually decline. We get better by pushing our own limits, doing things that are hard, and regularly questioning how we can improve.

What kinds of things do you want to incorporate in your fitness routine? What do you actively avoid, for fear of failure or it being “too hard”?

Run Love

100 Posts

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Hello!

Thanks to my good friends at WordPress and their stellar programming math skillz, it has come to my attention that I have reached 100 blog posts.

Woo! Big numbers!

I realize in the blog and internet scheme of things, 100 is minuscule. However, it’s all relative…and for someone like me who really just figured out how Twitter and Facebook work, 100 is big.

In honor of 100 posts, I’ve decided to talk a bit about the things I’ve learned through being a part of this cyber blogging and running world. Some good, some bad, some ugly (see: missing toenails), but overall…I’ve gained a whole lot more than I ever thought possible from being a part of you people, and I’m happy for it.

Let’s hope to it then.

I’ve learned that I’m really not that crazy.

Well, okay, yes I’m that crazy.

However, for a while I thought I was alone. I thought that preferring to run many miles on a Saturday morning over a Friday late night bar crawl made me somewhat of a freak. And sure, maybe it does. But there are other freaks out there! Hooray for unity over hydrating and carbo-loading!

Occasionally, I do love a night out, a day off, and generally just being lazy. But, for the most part, I consider my love of consistently being active and ready to run very unusual, and before having a blog…I barely talked about it with my friends and people I knew. I wasn’t embarrassed, necessarily, but I didn’t want to feel like I was “showing off” or trying to get attention. Because that’s never been what my running’s about. Honestly, I would actually downplay my answers when people asked me how many miles I ran every week or how often I worked out, because I didn’t really feel like explaining myself away to people who just weren’t going to get it.

Not that there’s anything wrong with not getting it. But I was happy letting other people do their thing, while I did mine.

I was kind of a secret runner, I suppose you could say, and with this came a tendency to think of myself as a bit of an outsider.

Joining a community of running addicts like myself has really helped me to realize that I’m not all that strange at all, and in fact—marathon training and hard workouts can be something to be proud of. Sure, I do tend to feel gloaty sometimes and I still tend to shy away from discussing my training with other people…but reading about the running other women my age are doing really makes me feel like I’m part of something other than just my own seclusive habits.

I’ve learned that I really, really love to write.

In reference to the above “lesson” I’ve learned, you might be wondering…if I shy away from talking about training, why would I have a blog where all I talk about is miles and cookies and sweating?

Good question.

I actually started my blog primarily because I love to write. My love of writing has existed for much longer than my love of running, and it’s actually the catalyst for why I started my blog.

I began reading lots of books and articles all about running. I didn’t really realize that this literature on running was out there, and all at once it seemed it was all coming at me like wild fire. I loved it, I couldn’t get enough of it, and it made me want to run and train even more.

It was actually a book about running that really jolted me to run my first marathon. Not to sound like every other American recreational runner-turned-marathoner, but it was Dean Karnazes’ book “Ultramarathon Man” that made me think, “Wait a minute, I can do that!”

Not long after I did my first marathon, I somehow stumbled upon some running blogs. In all honesty, I never used to read blogs, and I kind of thought they were a place where people were more honest about their lives than they were in the real world or on Facebook…which, unfortunately, some people think of as “the real world.”

In a nutshell, I thought blogs were for internet shut-ins who would rather spend time in the virtual world than with their friends or family.

I was wrong.

I started finding blogs of girls who were runners, and they were exactly like me. I felt like I was reading my own writing with some of these blogs, and I found myself coming back to them every day. The more I read…the more I admitted the truth to myself: I wanted to start my own. Because if there’s one thing I love more than writing and running, it’s writing about running.

As you can probably tell at this point, I can get a little metaphysical and deep when it comes to talking about running, I will totally own it.

But it’s who I am…and it’s been through writing that I’ve realized that running is so much more important to me than just calorie burning and leg toning. In fact, when it comes down to it, those things are in last place on the list of reasons why I love running. Having a blog has helped me realize that…and it’s through all the writing and reflections that I’ve done about this sport that I’ve really broken down the true essence of why I love to run.

Additionally, I am convinced that having this blog has helped my professional writing as well. For those of you who don’t already know, I’m a magazine editor by day, meaning a lot of my job requires writing in all different shapes and forms. Articles, reviews, interviews, press releases, newsletters…you name it, I’ve written it. And I’m finding that the writing is coming easier to me than it used to, and I think that has a lot to do with the more fun, quirky ranting I do here.

Practice makes perfect no matter what it is you’re practicing, and writing definitely qualifies in that regard.

I’ve learned that it’s important to step away from our computers.

It’s not that I didn’t really know this before, but I’ve realized recently that while it’s fun and exciting to check in on our blogging friends via Twitter, new posts, Facebook, etc. whenever they have something new to share…it’s also really important to get away from it all as well.

It’s really easy to get super caught up in the on-goings of the virtual world. And why not? We start to feel like we know the people that we follow, and that follow us, so it’s easy to spend our time ~~procrastinating~~ looking for what everyone is up to. This is all fine and well, however I know I can warp myself into a little black hole sometimes by spending too much time staring at my screen’s reality as opposed to living in my own.

I catch myself when I’m out away from my computer and I find myself thinking about something or someone that I only know of because of my internet relationship. This, I am sure, is normal in this day and age, but frankly I don’t like that it takes me away from whatsoever I’m doing, you know, in my real life. I love my internet peeps, don’t get me wrong…but there’s something to be said for getting away from our alternate reality and just being.

It’s the same reason, on a lesser scale, that I like to run without music. Or, how BF and I don’t check our phones when we’re on dates.

Thanks to technology ruling both our working and social lives in the modern world, it is inevitable that we will spend countless hours engrossed in the happenings on a small screen.

This is not how we, as social beings, were meant to live, though.

So be proactive and take some time outs. Everything will be there when you get back, and I promise your Twitter feed is highly more enjoyable when you check it after a weekend as opposed to a couple of minutes.

I have learned that we’re really not alone.

When something good or bad happens, it’s easy to feel we are in a category all our own.

We run our first half marathon faster than we expected? Huzzah! We must be Superwoman.

We get hurt and can’t run for a few weeks? The universe obviously hates us and we were never supposed to be a runner in the first place.

(WTF tense was that? I don’t know. Leaving it. Lazy.)

Here’s the fact of the matter:

If you run your first half, full, or whatever distance faster than you thought…that really is super awesome, and you should consider yourself a Super(wo)man.

If you are hurt and can’t run, that really does suck, and I’m sorry.

But, reality check…there have been and will be many, many, many more people in the same scenario as you. It doesn’t make your accomplishments any less great, or your hardships any less easy, but the fact of the matter is you are far from the first to experience (fill in the blank____), and that’s okay.

Take some comfort in the fact that others can relate to you.

Injured and not sure what to do? The wonderful thing about the internet (and the blogging world) is that there are positively more injured people out there that would love to commiserate with you. They may even be able to help or offer some advice.*

*Take all injury research and advice via the internet with a grain of salt, as you may wind up self-diagnosing leg cancer when you actually have shin splints.

The same idea goes for accomplishments. We should absolutely feel proud of the things we do that we worked hard for and ultimately achieved. Celebrate. Tell everyone. Go nuts.

But, don’t be disappointed when you read ten other stories just like yours. They don’t take anything away from you, and they don’t make what you did any less spectacular…they are simply a reflection that other people want to do cool things too. Instead, you should celebrate with those people. A party is much more fun when there’s lots of folks involved, so just as other people root for you and encourage you in your training endeavors…pay it forward, and join in on the virtual cheer-leading brigade.

On that same note. Let other people inspire you! I know that while I might be envious of girls my age who have already run Boston-qualifying times or competed in Ironman races, I can turn my jealousy into fuel. These stories inspire me to reach further, dig deeper, and I love getting new ideas for races or training plans from the bloggers I admire and who inspire me.

I’ve learned that following the training and racing of other people can be just as fun as doing it yourself.

I never, ever, thought I would be someone who regularly followed blogs or commented on the ramblings of other people. The extent of my internet exploration ended with Facebook and Gmail, and everything else was for people who were much more tech-savvy and social media smart.

Now, I’m still not tech savvy, nor too skilled at hash-tagging or making YouTube videos, however…I know that something I look forward to each day is reading up on the trials, tribulations, and sweat of the lady runners I follow. (Really wanted that list to be alliterative, dang.) I think it’s really exciting to watch someone’s progression from a 5k runner to a marathoner, or a marathoner to an ultra-marathoner.

No matter the level, I love to read about people who run. Running is the underlying thread that unites us all, and despite the different locations, interests, and ages, I love that the running blogging community is held together through the pure love of putting one foot in front of the other.

My favorite thing about running is the simplicity of it. It’s primal, it’s natural, and it’s the way we were meant to get around. People who write about running get this, and I love connecting, if even just through a comment box, with others who understand the need to run.

So there you have it. Some things I’ve learned through writing about running and a bit of my blogging story thrown in there as well.

After 100 posts, countless miles, injuries, races, comments, tweets, meet-ups, emails, etc. I want to say THANK YOU to every single one of my readers. Your words and feedback make this space so enjoyable and fun for me, and I appreciate all the advice, laughs, and random tidbits you share with me. I’m looking forward to much more writing, running, and reading with you—all with a heaping spoonful of cookie dough and a Nuun-filled water bottle on the side.

Happy Monday!!

Friday Lessons, Mustaches, and Pandas

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It’s Friday already? I mean, awesome, but this week has flown by—which is odd, because I feel like I’ve been moving at a sloth-like pace through it.

Anyways, welcome to the end of the week!

Here is a picture of an adorable panda to get us off on the right foot:

PANDA DON’T BE SO SAD! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO GET DOWN!?! I WILL HELP YOU! I LOVE YOU!

It has been too long since I included some cuteness in my posts. The shame!

I know I always do Friday Favorites, and I know I’ve been skipping out on it recently in favor of being thankful and talking about existential running jargon, and I PROMISE I’ll start faves again soon….but not this week. Sorry, I know you’re day is probably ruined.

I just have too many other things to say! And since I have limited blogging time availabile…I need to squeeze things in when I can.

So, we all know by now that my race on Sunday went differently than I anticipated. (And if you don’t know, check it out here, because I know your curiosity must be ON FIRE right now). Can you tell I’m caffeinated? I am.

Anyways, there has been a lot of post-race reflecting, pondering, and Nutella consumption going on around these parts, and while I am not ready to dismiss the seriousness of what happened by any means, I am literally unable to not try and find the silver lining and move forward. Eternal optimist—I can’t help it, and I am a big believer that all experience is good experience, even when that experience involves the inability for the nerves in my brain to signal my legs to move.

With that said, I’d like to share with you some of the things I’ve learned from this whole ordeal. Truly, the big lessons will probably take a little while to fully emancipate, however I do feel like I’m squeezing all of the personal-growth juice I can from all this.

Ew, sorry, “juice” should not be used to describe anything other than something that comes from a fruit.

You get it though.

So…let’s get a move on. Here are some things I’ve learned, both big and small, through the race that quite literally swept me off my feet (and not in a Ryan Gosling dream sequence kind of way).

-I have “awesome” veins.

After I was removed from the ice bath and my temperature was going down, the nurses/doctors were helping to stop my muscle cramping by using a lot of compression on all my limbs. One of the women behind me was all, “Wow, you have awesome veins!” and although this could mean a) I am easy to stick with a needle b)she was being nice about the spider veins all over my body or c)both, at the time I took it as a compliment.

I might have “awesome veins,” but the lady doc doesn’t really have “awesome IV sticking abilities.” I also have “awesome bruising skills.”

– The pacer stick is not very heavy at all.

One of the things I have always been SUPER impressed by in terms of the people who pace a race (besides the fact, obviously, that they are guaranteeing a certain finish time over 26 or 13 miles) is that they are CARRYING something while running. I can barely handle carrying a handheld water bottle, and I get stressed thinking about carrying anything more than a few gels and my own body weight. You can imagine my horror, then, when the 3:40 pacer (mustache man, if you remember) asked me to hold the pace stick while he went pee in the woods.

Him: “Hey can you hold this for a bit?”

My Brain: “WTF WHO DO YOU THINK I AM I HAVE ONLY RUN ONE MARATHON I HATE YOU!”

Me: “Totally, no problem.”

Surprise! It’s really light, and actually very manageable to run with. And despite my momentary panic, I decided that his decision to offer ME the carrying stick actually translated into:

“You’re such a super star runner, Robyn. My mustache and I respect you and your flawless form and I have no doubt you could take over my pacer job. In fact, you should be a pacer yourself.”

That’s exactly what he thought, and despite the fact that his mind *might* have changed when he saw me being cradled like an infant by the Medical Director, I still think we have an everlasting bond through our 3 minutes of a pace-stick exchange.

BFF photo

– Knowing your target HR=helpful when running a marathon

I’ve said this before, but I don’t own a Garmin. I was always very happy with my little blue Timex, and I actually enjoyed the added freedom of not knowing exactly how far I had gone on a run or how fast I was going. I liked calculating these things afterward instead—meaning that while I can claim to be a “pure” runner while actually out on a run, I do still really care about distance and pace. Something I am not able to calculate too easily without an electronic device is my heart rate, and I believe this knowledge would have been a good indication of how over my limit I was on Sunday.

So, I’m giving in: For both my safety (and the fact that I really, really want one) I’m going to invest in a Garmin, finally. Having one doesn’t mean I need to wear it on every run I go on, however knowing my ideal HR on long runs will help me avoid the situation I got into.

In that regard…suggestions? I just want pace, distance, HR, and a light…for when it’s dark.

– Always have someone you know with you at a race

Certainly, everyone wants supporters to cheer them on at a race—it’s so motivating to know that you have friends, family, or pets out there on the course or finish line, gunning for you to run a stellar race. However, as I have discovered, it is almost equally if not more important to have people there for the bad things that can happen along with the good.

If you remember, I came *this* close to running the Eugene Marathon (and yes I am totally, 100% okay with the fact that I didn’t run the flat, fast course instead of Hill Town Tacompton, clearly). BUT had I run Eugene, I would have been there completely solo, as BF wouldn’t have been able to come, meaning that if something like this would have happened, I wouldn’t have had anyone I knew on the sidelines. No one to drive me home, no one to be there in the medical tent, and no one to report to my family that everything was okay.

When I was coming out of my overheated delirium, all I wanted was for BF to come and be with me, and I can’t imagine how much scarier that situation would have been without someone I knew present.

So sure, I definitely love having people there to cheer me on, but I know now just how important it is to have someone there for a worst-case scenario as well.

Thanks for coming see me “finish” a marathon Corey, you’re the best sister.

– There is such a thing as “marathon peeing”

YOU GUYS, this happened. I couldn’t believe it, and I’m still having a hard time thinking back to it all, but for reals—around mile 22, there I was…a self-sufficient, mature(ish) 24-year-old, peeing my pants on the run.

Now, if you haven’t heard of this before, please don’t click out of my blog out of disgust and shock—because truly, I had no idea I was capable of this. I knew that people did it…instead of stopping at the porta potties, they just straight peed their pants, but I always assumed this was people who had itty bitty bladders and were going for a world record. I NEVER have to pee when I run, but somehow my ample mid-race hydration caught up to me…and there it was.

I was in my cloudy “Make it stop” state when it happened, so it didn’t really register at the time, but when one of the doctors afterward asked me, “When was the last time you peed?” I started cracking up and said, “On the course!” which I thought was absolutely hilarious. At this point, I still had a 105 degree fever, which probably aided my light-headed humor, but now thinking back…it is hilarious, and clearly I have no shame.

Luckily, an ice bath quickly cleanses peed-in shorts, so wearing my shorts afterward wasn’t entirely unbearable.

SEXY. That’s why you date me BF, isn’t it? Cause I’m so “Not so fresh and not so clean clean.”

– After a marathon, your body declares full autonomy over you.

Yes, we should always listen to our bodies. And yes, I hardly practice what I preach in this regard, but when it comes to the week after a marathon, we hardly have a choice.

Every action I’ve been taking this week has been dictated by my body, and anything too difficult for it is quickly stopped in its tracks. I’m able to swim and spin no problem, and both are adding some really helpful blood flow…however running, not so much.

I felt good enough yesterday afternoon to (very slowly) try out my post-marathon legs. So while I said, “Yes! Let’s run!” my body quickly replied with “NOT!” in a very in-your-face Borat kind of way.

After about a quarter mile, my right knee/IT band/fibula/etc started getting really tight, and it was not having it. BF and I were “running” together at the time, and I had to tell him to go on ahead while I waited with a pissed off leg (Not to be confused with a “pissed on” leg, which I also know about…see above). Fortunately, he is a kind soul and quickly returned to walk back to our starting point with me, and I am going to wait a few more days until trying to run again.

I admit that I quickly panicked that I have some long-term injury that will disable me from running the entire summer (rationality is my strong suit), however I know that you cannot trust any post-marathon pains until the race wear and tear eventually works its way out. Truthfully, I think my muscles are just still really recovering, and my foremost goal right now is to listen my body above all else.

Sorry ladies, you’ll have to wait.

And with that said…

– It is okay to back off.

This is perhaps the biggest understanding I’ve reached so far in the reflection I’ve done over this race. I know it is definitely going to take a while to really internalize it, because it completely contradicts the way my brain works—but it’s something I know will make me a much smarter athlete and runner.

My problem during the race (and I suppose in my day-to-day life) is that I refuse to let myself back off from not trying my very hardest. For better or for worse, I hate thinking of myself as someone who doesn’t give their absolute best—because that’s the way I always like to operate. It’s the reason why I love always having a hard, satisfying workout, why I don’t like taking days off, and why I got myself into the circumstances leading up to my collapse on Sunday. I thrive on pushing myself, on knowing that I worked hard, and it’s the way I have and will probably always choose to operate on a daily basis.

Most of the time, this is a good thing. It’s good as a runner, an employee, and just for general productivity. However, as is always the case, it is possible for there to be too much of a good thing. Case in point, the Tacoma Marathon.

So, I suppose what I’m mostly realizing is that I don’t need to worry about my mental stamina. I think I’m always worried that I’ll slip in the average, lazy-person mindset of only half-assing things and searching for ways to not give me all. This fear is part of what drives me to always give my best, which is good, however I’m realizing that I’m not a person who will ever not be competitive, not be strong-willed, or not be anxious to do my best. In that regard, it will actually be more helpful for me to realize how to dial back, as opposed to giving more.

I know now that I don’t really have an issue with trying my hardest, and in fact it will be braver and more trying of my natural instincts to tone down my workouts and my do-or-die mentality. Of course I want to keep working and training hard, but something I really want to start to internalize is that for me—the greater way of challenging myself is finding a better balance. This means a rest day, every single week, even when I’d rather not and knowing when I’m on a run or in a race when I need to forego being a winner for the sake of being safe.

Part of being an athlete is understanding both the value of recovery and the value of hard work. I have been very one-sided when it comes to achieving this balance, and it reached a breaking point when I ignored my body’s warning signs for the sake of a certain finish time.

So, to make an already long story short, I have learned that being more cautious and offering my body more rest is ultimately going to make me a better athlete, and I’m happy to have a new kind of challenge ahead of me.

Have a great weekend all you lovely people out there! Thanks for following my meaning-of-life journey post-marathon, and I hope that if nothing else, I’ve offered a bit of insight into how pushing through pain only goes so far, and sometimes the harder, gutsier decision is knowing when to stop instead of go.

Tell me some marathon lessons you’ve learned! The good, the bad, and the pee-your-pants kind. You’re welcome internet for knowing about that now. Have you ever done that? Please tell me so I don’t feel like a toddler/old person. What are your Garmin suggestions? What are you doing this weekend? Will you help me save that panda from his tree? SOMEONE PLEASE HELP THAT PANDA.

Post-Race Reflections and Ramblings

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Slowly but surely (emphasis on the slowly, namely my walking speed), I am returning back to normal since the *excitement* from Sunday. I have done a little yoga, a little swimming, a lot of sleeping, a lot of horrific foam rolling, and drowned myself in frozen yogurt—all of which are helping to cleanse away the fear and the beating endured in the race.

A BIG thanks to those of you who’ve offered your support, condolences, and general affirmation after reading my lengthy race recap. I truly appreciate your kind words and happy thoughts.

There are many things that have been going on through my head since Sunday, and I think I have started to unwind from the pure shock of it all into some more grounded, realistic thoughts. However, I am still quite askew in terms of my rationalization of the whole thing, and while there are a number of words I could use to describe my current state of mind regarding running, marathons, etc., I think the one prevailing thing I’m feeling is frustration.

Now, before I dive into the specifics of this frustration, let me first say that I realize there are many different opinions on how I decided to run my race on Sunday. I have heard everything from ballsy and inspiring to reckless and stupid (I believe the phrase”psych exam” was in there somewhere), and I want to say that you are entirely entitled to your own opinion.

Personally, in terms of how I view it all, I think that I fall somewhere in the middle. On one hand, I know that I should have never put myself in that kind of danger, and I’m mad at myself for scaring my loved ones and myself by not realizing I’d reached my limit. On the other hand, and I say this with marginal reluctance, but the truth is—I can’t say that I would have run that race any other way. For better or for worse, my mind was stronger than my body on Sunday, and while I will absolutely need to keep this in check, I am also not surprised it happened.

It might be stubbornness, it might be idiocy, it might be determination, or it might be an alternative chromosome—no matter how you characterize my mindset during this race, all I know is that it is 100% who I am as a runner, an athlete, and a person. Which is part of the reason this race has left me feeling frustrated, among other things, and I’m having a hard time trying to reconfigure how to prioritize my goals from here on out.

Part of me wants to run for fun for the rest of the year; just running without regimin or goal time in mind—simply for the love of it. The other part wants to run so many marathons that I’m able to drown out the memory of what happened in Tacoma. I am certain I will land somewhere in the middle eventually. Frankly, I don’t like that a sport I love so much and a sport I hold in such high regard chopped me to pieces so quickly. I spent months preparing to run this marathon—I was ready for it, I was both mentally and physically chomping at the bit to do well, and in 3 hours and 44 minutes it punched those months of hard work right in the face. Well, in the IT band, the hamstrings, the quads, and the calves—to be more specific. It was my own fault, I know that, but at the same time I feel like I was cheated by the laws of all marathon running and general athletic endeavors.

Allow me to explain: Every single sports mantra, coach, PE poster, whatever will tell you, “Pain is weakness leaving to body,” “You’re stronger than you think you are,” and “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift” (yes, I needed to include Pre). Since a very early age, we’ve heard all these mantras, and we’ve been told to believe that our bodies are much stronger than our mind allows them to be. Unfortunately, I internalized these ideas too much on Sunday—and I crossed over the line of my physical potential to my physical limitations.

The entire time I was running, particularly when it started to get really difficult, I told myself all these “mind over matter” sayings—I convinced myself that of course it was hard, it’s a marathon! I thought that the pain I was experiencing was the kind that everyone feels, and all I had to do was push it further—because I was stronger than any mental downfall or shortcoming. I knew I was in good enough shape to run a marathon, in fact I was in better shape than I was for my first 26.2, so the pain I was feeling must have been due to the hills and the speed—not to my own physical deficiency.

I realize how prideful this sounds, and it absolutely is, but more than anything it’s my obscene competitive nature. I am competitive with others, have no doubt, but my most fiery, ruthless competitive drive is with myself and my own goals. So despite knowing I was in more pain than I should have been, and despite knowing that running an 8:10 pace over 26 hilly miles was incredibly ambitious, I could not let up holding myself up to my highest standard.

I knew qualifying for Boston on this course was going to be miraculous. I said this to BF, to my family, and I thought that I knew it myself. However, I also knew, in the murky, victory-craving corners of my brain that it was still possible. I knew that if I had ideal conditions, perfect taper, and a little bit of race magic—I would be able to pull it off, even on a hard course. And…I suppose this was accurate, because had I not literally fallen at mile 26, there is a very good chance I would have qualified. However, instead of letting my training, the course, and the miracle come to me…I forced it, and that was my mistake.

I should have realized earlier in the race that should I qualify, the factors leading up to it wouldn’t be entirely in my control. Because despite how much we’d like to think it, miracle races (as BQing in Tacoma would have been) require a little something more than all the training and preparation we put into them. They require that certain race day magic that lights us up when we need it, and it’s somewhat intangible and undefinable. Unfortunately, I decided to forego the whole “let it come to you” notion and instead decided to make my own miracle happen. Once the image of myself crossing the finish line under a 3:35:59 clock got locked in my head, I couldn’t let it go—even though when I started feeling the wall around mile 19, I should have.

So instead of obeying the rules of “the wall,” something I had never before experienced, I decided to try and run right through it…and then when that didn’t work, I backed up and ran right back into it, over and over again. The funny thing though about walls is that they don’t move, and all that endless beating against my own wall ended up withdrawing every ounce of strength I had in me. I am sure that had I backed up my pace even a tiny bit, all the conditioning I knew I had within me would have regained a bit of control and I would have finished the race in a great time. I couldn’t accept “a great time” though, because I was chasing the 3:35 beast the entire race, and despite all the fire and poison it was spitting at me, I was determined to pin it down.

So, what do I take from all this? Well, there are many things—but more than anything, I think I have learned that on Sunday, my mental conditioning was stronger than my physical conditioning. So often our brains tell us to stop while our bodies have the ability to keep going—however, I experienced the opposite. I didn’t listen to my body, I brushed off my pain as durable, and eventually my mental stamina outlasted my body to the point where my body decided to no longer function.

There is, furthermore, a line between pushing to your limits and exceeding your limits—and this is something I had never really realized or grasped before. I’ll admit I’m a bit confused and worried about the line dividing “far” and “too far,” because up until Sunday, I believed we were capable of anything we set our minds too. Which I still believe…but now to a certain degree. I suppose what I will need to work on more than anything is listening to my body as opposed to pushing myself solely on brain determination.

At this point, I know I have the mental strength to get through a marathon…perhaps too much, and that is something I can still count on the drive me when the going gets tough. However, I am now going to have to work on deciphering between working to my full potential and working beyond my capabilities. Because, yes, I do have limitations…and despite the fact that my self-righteous subconscious would scoff at such a statement, it is the truth—as it is for everyone.

So where does that leave me? Well, I am going to continue to recover, reflect, and eventually I’ll get brave enough to put on my iPod and lace up my shoes. I’m actually still unable to listen to any of the songs I listened to on race day, and even seeing the clothes I wore gives me a bit of a shudder. No doubt, full recovery from this marathon—particularly the metal part—is going to take a while. However, I never shy away from an opportunity for self-improvement, and I’m happy to accept all the humility and re-prioritization it takes to get myself back in the swing of things.

I realize this post was rather stream-of-consciousness and didn’t have much of a thread running through it (I suppose not too many of my posts do though 🙂 ). However, this post was very expressive of the way my brain is working right now—just trying to process it all and regain a little composure. I ultimately just needed to get some of my thoughts down, and now that I have I feel a bit freer.

And now, because I am FASCINATED by this right now:

When is “pushing yourself” too much? Where do we divide the line between fighting through the pain and accepting it? Do you think runners are particularly susceptible to this kind of thinking?

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