#bostonstrongMLPS

Two weeks ago my friend Danielle and I ran the Get in Gear 10k here in Minneapolis. The weather was a perfect 50ish degrees with full sun. My first 10k was the 2010 Get in Gear. That race was much different. I got to the race late, needing to use the restroom. I waited 20  for the porta-potties. After I couldn’t find the start line. Finally, a very nice volunteer, fished opened the gate so I could squeeze through and get started, 45 minutes late. The rain didn’t slow me down as I enjoyed the race, finishing in 56 minutes.

This year was different for many reasons, not just the weather. It was my fifth 10k in 3 years. During that same time I’ve completed various races at other distances, but the 10k while one of my favorites is the race I most overlook. Maybe I give it the middle sibling syndrome, being caught between the 5k and the Half, but I often ignore it. This time,I specifically chose the distance because it was in the middle, giving me the exact challenge I wanted. A race that I could successfully complete but worth the entry fee and motivating enough to get someone to do it with me. I needed this race. Two weeks before almost, Boston happened. My legs ached, screaming at me to get running. My heart heavy, my brain not understanding how to sort all the emotions racing through it. Running is what got me in shape. Races are what made me feel apart of a community. Miles spent in my head, music that pushed me through it all, all of that needed to be honored and not just alone. I had to register for a race after Boston. I read several blogs following a similar thought. Twitter took up the tag #BostonStrong(your city). When Danielle told me about it, we made the decision that it was going on our race shirts. The race went and we finished. The race was not my slowest 10k and not my fastest. It just was.

That is exactly what I needed it to be. I need a race that reconnected me to what it is that I love about running. Seeing the other runners supporting one another. Seeing the other shirts dedicated to Boston. Seeing the spectators along the race course, people cheering on their loved ones and complete strangers, all reminded me why I love this almost otherwise solitary sport.

Lou Lou

My darling beagle is 9 today. Granted that’s my best guess from vet estimations. I adopted her with no knowledge of her history. She’s the sweetest little girl and every day she reminds me. Happy Birthday Lady Lou. You are the best $40 I’ve spent.

Heartbreak Hill: Why Runner’s Do It

As a runner yesterday’s news from the Boston Marathon shocked me. Most random violent acts are terrible. They take away your safety net. Yet, even when I read about mall shootings, subway bombings or other acts, it doesn’t change my daily routine. I still ride the bus. I still go shopping at malls. There is a certain part of me understanding that nothing is certain but life.

I couldn’t place exactly why yesterday bothered me more, it unsettled me. Then today I read the Jezebel article about it. That’s when it connected to me. Marathons are a personal accomplishment for thousands of runners. Qualifying for Boston is a feat, getting in is even harder. Runner’s World covered this back in 2009, and it’s only gotten more competitive due to social media.  Training for any marathon takes more than just the ability to run. It takes determination, strength, time, and the ability to be alone with your thoughts but also keep your body moving while your brain is saying quit. Boston has extremely difficult qualifying times, per the Runner’s World article above, only 10% of marathoners will make it. The runner’s running yesterday were making a dream come true. They were fulfilling a goal by even making it to the start line. The tradition, the fans, the course, it all supports that dream. When something attacks those supporting random strangers making their goal, it hurts. The victims were those watching loved ones and strangers achieve a life crowning moment. As a runner, I count on that support to push through races.

Some of my favorite races have been ones with memorable signs and strangers encouraging me along the way. I still remember signs from races long ago. In San Diego a guy held a sign that read “I don’t do marathons, I do a marathoner”.  My first Twin Cities 10 Miler a lady held  one that read “You’re faster than any Kenyan to me”.  There was the one at Fargo that read “You trained for this longer than Kim Kardashian was Married”.  Then there was the Elvis impersonator at Fargo. The DC half featured a guy wearing a super hero outfit also belting out karaoke and the Minnie Mouse lady. You see as a runner, even after all the training, you still doubt yourself. Your body still hurts. You still want to just stop and say I can’t anymore. It’s the people cheering you on, offering you treats and drinks . It’s the volunteers that wake up early posting to their station along the race. It’s the family holding signs up, taking pictures and watching. All of these things are what keep you going and encourage you to do it again. It also gives you a bonding moment with those you did the race with, we all achieved this together.

While the reasons are sorted out. The people are what will keep humanity going forward even in events like this. I leave you with this, shared from Facebook.

“If you’re losing your faith in human nature, look at marathon crowds, standing for hours with no seating, no cover, no bathrooms, to cheer thousands of strangers. Or look at our sport’s volunteers, on whose shoulders the whole sport rests,” Roger Robinson, Runners World writer at Boston Marathon.
If you want to do something, go out for a run today. Wear your favorite race shirt. Running is a community, strong, supportive, together.

“Every runner knows what a finish line means. It’s a refuge. It’s a celebration of life, and affirmation that you can, indeed, achieve the goals you set. It’s a community in which age, race, gender, economic status, even running ability, are forgotten in the thrill of a moment of shared accomplishment. Violence, terror, anger, grief? These have no place at a finish line.” – Message from the Drake Relays Road Races Organizers

Remember fear is a powerful thing, but love and hope are stronger.

Getting Comfortable with Uncomfortable

I found this while searching the hashtag #whole30 on Instagram today. It really stood out to me. Not just because it’s clever but because it summarized so much in just a few words. Patience is not an adjective that describes me. Fast is a compliment with most situations. Even when someone thinks you did something too fast, they don’t use the word fast, they used rushed. You are rushing me is bad, fast is a compliment. Fast food is often thought of as unhealthy, many times it is. However, not all food that is fast is bad. An apple is fast, it’s healthy. Yet, what this illustrates is the pause, the thought that needs to go into your choices.

The whole 30 search interest sparked last week after reading two separate blogs doing it. I was curious as to what it was and why it was becoming the new trendy diet.The whole 30 is part of a larger movement and similar to Paleo, but more strict from what I can gather. I’m not an expert on either. Both ask the person to eat a lot of vegetables(minus white potatoes) and meat, no sugar, beans, soy/tofu, starches or dairy. Both are very meat heavy eating styles, which is what turns me off from them. I’ve been a vegetarian for the last 6 years. I still eat fish and eggs. I’ve had a cheeseburger three times in the last two years. I had a chicken sandwich once last year.  Both incidents were born of necessity and choice. When your heme blood levels are low, you need a little red meat in your life. Plenty of people follow healthy vegetarian or vegan lifestyles. This post isn’t about what is superior or not, it’s not even about the most healthy. Plenty of people eat unhealthy as a vegan(sweedish fish are vegan as is plenty of other easy fake food). But for most people, being too healthy is not the issue. What turns me off about these trends is just that I would need to start buying large quantities of meat again. I briefly thought about it tonight while in Trader Joe’s. I casually strolled by the meat, glancing at the organic, natural chicken. Then I nearly fainted when I saw it would cost 11 dollars. Do you know how many beans that would buy me? I’ve made exceptions for eggs and fish because they are still relatively inexpensive. If I am visiting my sister, the Amish farm up the road hooks me up with a dozen eggs for $1.50. If I am living it up city style as I often am, you can find organic natural eggs for around $3.50-4.00/dozen. Yes, that’s not cheap and you can get regular, abused chicken on roids eggs for $1.25/dozen.  I just prefer to think my dollars are going towards helping the chickens escape that life or companies are giggling gleefully as they pocket the extra three dollars.  Beyond the price, there is just so much choice it is overwhelming at times.

American is a land of abundance but we also have a large problem with finding what too eat in that sea of choice. I wandered the Minneapolis skyways for 45 minutes yesterday trying to decide what to eat. I was overwhelmed with options but also lacking options that fit what I was looking for within my dietary needs. It is something I run into over and over again. I do not think my needs are that crazy. But apparently in comparison they are, I guess my family’s joke about my bird food diet is true. I am picky. I do want real food on my plate. I don’t want food manufactured in a plant, designed by scientist to appeal to my sensory palates and basically act like crack. I want food to be food.

I think that’s exactly what the poster above advocates and I hope more people join the movement. Thug Kitchen knows it.

 

Sweet Syrupy Siren, Breaking up with Soda.

Soda, the sweet syrupy siren, pop or coke are other names it goes by. Flavors, varieties, caffeinated or not, it is every where. Easily available, vending machines accepting credit/debit cards, stores, vendors, restaurants giving it away with your meal. When I put giving it up, permanently, on my 30×30 list I thought I was ready. I knew it wasn’t great for me. I saw the Pinterest science experiments where Mountain Dew glows or how to use Coke to clean toilet bowls. I knew Coke could clean battery acid. I often thought if it can clean battery acid what is it doing to your body? My battle with soda is like my battle with most things, breaking the habit is the easy part. Sticking with the reasons, resolving to keep it without giving it to the social pressures, well that’s never been my strong point. Even though, I’m inherently stubborn. My journey with soda started when I was a child like many life long habits do.

My parents are avid drinkers, soda drinkers. We never had alcohol in our house growing up, but multiple 12 packs of soda rotated between the garage and basement. The variety astounding, to this day, my parents keep a selection between brands, diet and regular. I often drank cans throughout the day never questioning what I was drinking. I liked it. This habit continued through college.

2004 I decided to give up soda for the year. I succeed until NYE, when my well meaning friend passed me a drink containing Sprite. Still I considered the year a success. This was also around the time I decided to start working out more and became a vegetarian. I lapsed being a vegetarian on a Chipotle chicken burrito. I also started drinking soda again. Again, convincing myself I was successful. I stuck with it longer than any one else I knew. I mean, I gave it up for a YEAR. I did it. Wasn’t that enough?

Since I’ve been on and off it, telling myself it was fine as long as it was diet. I knew that regular soda had empty calories and high fructose corn syrup. I also started running more and realized how much better I did when not chugging diet soda. Google it. Seriously. The biggest thing I wanted to push forward with was how after drinking a Diet Coke, I wanted something sweet, always. There are studies showing this is not limited to me. Once again, Google it if you don’t believe me.   I try to remind myself, soda is weird chemicals, sugar and water.  It doesn’t contain health benefits. Coffee, wine, even juice all have health benefits that can be supported. Soda, often the only study is about how it’s bad and why you need to stop drinking it.  I started listening to Jillian Michael’s podcast. She hates soda. I started reading more health blogs and taking more interest in health overall. Almost any weight loss article, improve your health, help your teeth, live longer or anything along those lines recommend to stop drinking soda. There are plenty of reasons, it’s expensive. It contributes to weight gain, even diet soda because it often made me want something sweet like a cookie. My health is my greatest wealth and there are enough things challenging it, why add soda to that list?

But in the last two months I’ve drank it, twice. Why? It’s every where. My resolve against it is shrinking. People around me, friends, family and strangers are sipping it. I get it free with meal purchases. It’s just another thing that makes me different from everyone else. It’s tiring, explaining why you don’t eat or drink something. Lately, I’ve started doing something as a way of reminding myself why I shouldn’t. Yes, I drank a soda to remind myself what it tasted like, hoping it would end the curiosity.  It didn’t. It made it harder. I missed it. I liked it, it tasted good. But it worked, it ended the curiosity. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, it was that I knew it wasn’t something I wanted in my life. It is easy, getting caught in what is easy. But easy isn’t what I want.

My 30×30 list is proving difficult. I put lofty goals on it. Giving up soda permanently, is something I want in my life. While I will relapse or make excuses. It is the second hardest thing on my list. Yet, I’m ready. I’m ready to give up the excuses and just do what I feel is right and that means no more soda. It doesn’t matter what everyone else is drinking. It doesn’t matter how many free sodas I get. It doesn’t matter how many times I have to say “No, I don’t drink it”. Ultimately, it’s my choice. Sorry, I’m not sorry. I’m giving it up.

Setting Your Dedication

I practice yoga once a week.  The Starbucks of Yoga, CorePower Yoga is located countrywide offers a variety of yoga classes. My favorite is yoga sculpt. I think of it as a bootcamp with yoga.The classes uses a variety of high intensity music, pumping your way through sun salutations, burpees, plank and a variety of moves with weights in a heated room. It is hard. Since September I try to make it to one class a week. Yoga supplements my work out routine, it is not my only routine. Plus, membership or class passes are expensive, but worth it. I don’t get the same work out from a Jillian DVD.

I’ve been cruising along in class, gaining strength, pushing my practice. I could even make it through class using 5lb weights. Which may sound like okay, big deal, but it was a huge improvement from the first class where I couldn’t even finish the class with 3lbs. That was disappointing, I used to rock out 30 day shred with my 8lb weights. Then I went to Florida for the first time, between that and when my class pack expired and my next pay check came in, I went about two weeks between classes. Not a huge amount of time, but within that time, I lost something. I went back expecting my favorite instructor and there was a sub. No big deal, that happens and new instructors can be really fun. No, it was one of my worst classes. I just hit a wall and could not push forward from it. I hated almost every song that was played. The class didn’t flow for me. I cried while laying in corpse. I wondered what was lost. Why did I go from a punishing, rewarding work out to one where I felt defeated every single lunge.

I left class and thought no big deal, bad work out happens. You can’t let it defeat you. I went back, another bad class. Once again I thought okay, it happens. Go back, another bad class. I cried at the end of all three.

But, I wasn’t going to give up. No, I had at least 6 classes left to use. That money was not going to waste. I would keep having bad classes if needed until there wasn’t any left. I’m stubborn, I’m determined.

Every class you dedicate your practice to someone or something. I’ve never really thought much about it. I usually send it out to someone I feel needs strength in their lives. Good friends, after my aunt’s funeral I sent it to my mom(one of the bad classes), but I never thought about what I would gain from sending it to these people. The idea of how energy is shared through the universe is a powerful force. It is also something easy to roll your eyes at. It’s something you would shake your fist at a dirty hippie and say “get a job bum”. But then I realize I am that hippie. I read this blog post explaining the practice of dedication. What strikes me about it, is that it’s not just who you send it out to but the emotion that person brings.

I went back last Friday, dedicating my practice that class to my niece. The class was peaceful, energetic and fun.  It reflected my niece in the child like simplicity. I wasn’t struggling, expending thought on why not, or what was stopping me. I just went with it, the eagerness of exploration. I was back. Monday I went again, this time sending my practice to a friend, I struggle defining what or who they are in my life. My practice was equally punishing but rewarding. It was hard, it was fun. It was what I needed it to be.

Exercise is a tricky mistress. It rewards you. It requires your time. It requires your patience and often asks for more. When you finally learn what you get from it beyond a sweaty pile of clothes it becomes something you don’t know how you lived without. It doesn’t mean that I eagerly await every single work out. I need breaks. I need variety. I need motivation from others. Yet, even with that I know when it’s been too long. I look at my running shoes and say, yes we have a date.

I’ve learned that sometimes it’s just a matter of setting your dedication.

Marching into Madness

February was a crazy month. I traveled to Florida twice. Once to the panhandle for the Pensacola Double Bridge Run. The second time, I went to Orlando celebrating my niece’s fourth birthday in Disney World. While in Orlando, I learned my Aunt passed away from her battle with multiple sclerosis. After landing in Minneapolis, I went home switching suitcases and drove to Wisconsin for the funeral. Before I knew it, March was here.

Losing a loved one is never easy. Watching the my aunt go from a healthy, full of life mother to being trapped in her own body, shocked me. MS is a difficult disease. It’s furry comes and goes, or comes strong and without apology. My grandparents have now lost two children due to it. It’s slowly taking away my own mother’s mobility and independence. Instead of wallowing, it reminds me that being your health really is your greatest gift. You control so much within your life. Your health isn’t always guaranteed but it should never be taken for granted.

When I joined Pinterest, one of my first pins was the image above, it spoke to me. It reminded me that even on my shittest run, I should be thankful. The simple motion of putting one foot in front of another is a privilege.  As I approach my first half marathon of the year, it has taken on a new meaning for me. Openly, I admit, I’m dreading it. I have not been putting in the effort for it. Today I ran 7 miles, the first time I’ve run that since the Pensacola. I have not run 10 miles in one run since September. Sure, I work out at least three times a week. I wasn’t winded when out running today. I don’t feel that my body is going to fail me. I know I can run the distance. I worry because my brain is actively telling me I can’t, slow down, give yourself a break. However, I know it’s just my brain not believing in my own strength.

But I just have to remember.

Rock and Roll DC, I’m looking at you, it’s time to hit sub 2:00 hours.