Unbridled

When I first received the above race photo, I laughed, and then I sat and studied it and thought about it. As you can see, my right braid has come loose. The left one is still intact. It’s a funny look, and while some part of me knew my hair had come unraveled there towards the end of the race, I paid it absolutely no attention. I just ran towards my finish line. It is a perfect representation of the dichotomy between practicality and emotion that exists within each and every one of us.

Experts say that a left brain dominant person is more analytical and methodical, while a right brain dominant person is more creative and artistic. In this picture the left side of my hair is still woven into a predictable pattern of interlaced strands. It is tidy and restrained. But the right side of my hair, well … it is loose and flowing. There is nothing holding it back and out of the way. No, instead it is expressing itself in a wild, unbridled, and unruly manner.

There are all kinds of people in life … those that are wild, impetuous and adventurous, and those that are practical, pragmatic and sensible. I always say that the best people are the perfectly balanced people. These people have equal sides wild and tame. I call the practical side the “square” side and the impetuous side the “circle” side. The square side is useful. It’s paying bills, chores, traffic jams, grocery shopping, attending meetings, waiting in cash register lines, checking off to do lists, deciphering spreadsheets and tables, etc. The circle side is a nice respite. It’s adventure and fun and creativity and being fearless and carefree. So a perfectly balanced person is what I would call a “squircle.” I did not coin this … it’s an actual thing. Check it out …

A squircle is a shape intermediate between a square and a circle. For those who are curious, a squircle shape is what’s called a superellipse.

The perfect person can successfully vacillate between these two domains.

Distance running attracts many “squares,” I have found. I have had the pleasure of running with people of differing levels of squareness. I, myself, have some square in me, although I largely view myself as a “circle.” I love to create spreadsheets and tables, pore over data (especially running data), research the things in life that make me think, etc. These things could, by most standards, be considered “square.” But I also love to create art and to write. I like to go on adventures and create fun outfits. I like to throw theme parties and dress up in costume. I can be emotional and I’m the first to recognize when I’ve said the wrong thing or when someone is upset. I am a dreamer. To complicate the square/circle/left brain/right brain paradigm I’ve been working with here, there is also this notion of a “Type A Personality” and a “Type B Personality.” The Type A is independent, ambitious, goal oriented, highly competitive, self-driven, etc. and the Type B is creative, fun-loving, friendly, charismatic, easy-going, less competitive, and inspiring. Most of us distance runners are of the Type A personality variety. So, I think we mostly would identify as “square” in that regard. But I have also noticed that the distance runners I’ve come to know and love have quite a bit of Type B or “circle” in them. They are silly, spontaneous, funny, carefree, and love adventures. I believe they are “squircles” Type A/B.

Distance running requires a person to use both her square side and her circle side. At the beginning of the race, the runner must focus on restraint. The square is alive here. If the runner wants that wonderfully magic feeling of wild abandon towards the end of the race, she must not get excited by the thrill of the race atmosphere. She must ignore the desire to run free. The beginning of the race is the time to remember all those pace charts and data her watch has compiled over the 18 week training period. This is all a very square practice. Somewhere in the race, around mile 20 for the marathon, it’s time to gradually increase pace. If those first 20 miles were completed in a square manner, the gradual increase will feel okay. At this point, there is still a very square element going on, for it’s not yet time to truly let loose. Somewhere around mile 23 for a marathon, it’s circle time! Finally! It’s time to ignore the watch. Forget about all of the pace charts and data. It’s time to run completely free. Unbridled. Uncontrolled.

This photo encompasses this wild abandon portion of the race. I am now an ostrich, running fast and free. This is encompassed by the right side of my hair. This is the best part of running. But, it can’t be like this the whole way. It just can’t. Just like in life, it is impossible to be successful without practicality and pragmatism. Life simply cannot be one big party. It is fitting that it is the right side of my hair that has come unraveled … it is no longer subscribing to the methodical braid I forced it into. It is no longer adhering to the orderly, prescribed, pattern. Even my smile, on that right side is less restrained and less tight than it is on the left side. My smile is somewhat loose and feral on the right. It is as if my entire right side has let go. It is enjoying every second of that approaching finish line. This is the moment. This is it. Reckless abandon. May we all have runs where we run out of a braid or two.

Lucky Number 7

Are there shifts in the cosmos every seven years? Astroglogists say  these shifts not only exist, but that they influence the energy in our lives. Seven is an important number. Shakespeare wrote about the seven stages of man. There are seven continents, seven seas, seven colors in a rainbow, seven days in the week, seven notes on the musical scale, seven deadly sins, seven seals of God. There are seven directions (up, down, left, right, center, forward, backwards). The world was built in seven days, and scientists say that human cells replace every seven to ten years. Seven seems to be a pretty important number. I could buy that my I experience a life shift every seven years. I kind of like the idea of my life being in cycles rather than it being linear, anyway. This seems much more optimistic. If I look at each seven years as a grouped cycle of my life, I can see things with more clarity. If I chart the beginning of my running journey, I see that it began in a cycle of my life where I started a new job and it carried me through my kids getting to junior high age where they were much more self-sufficient and I had more time on my hands to explore running. I was in a volatile marriage and I was witnessing the effects it was having on my girls. In terms of running, I mastered the 5K, 10K, half marathon, and achieved a BQ in the marathon. In terms of my personal life, I mustered up the courage to go through a divorce and begin making a much more happy, peaceful home.

1.	35 years old	2012	started a new job, started running, kids are in elementary school 5ks: 23:43 (7:38 pace)       23:47 (7:39 pace)
2.	36 years old	2013	10ks and half marathons52:38 (8:28)    1:59:3953:39 (8:38)    1:59:3249:25 (7:57)
3.	37 years old	2014	half marathon 1:57:37 and began training for a full marathon
4.	38 years old	2015	1st marathon
5.	39 years old	2016	2nd marathon, 1st triathlon, kids are in junior high school
6.	40 years old	2017	3rd marathon, 2nd triathlon, placed in age group in nearly every race entered,
7.	41 years old	2018	4th marathon, joined Bay Area Fit, 1st sub 4 hour marathon, 1st BQ, kids are in high school, went through a divorce

I am currently in the midst of the second seven year cycle of my running journey. This cycle has been all about enjoying this life. The girls are currently late teen age … one in college, one finishing high school. I ran two world major marathons, experienced the torture of a virtual marathon twice, and by the end of this cycle I will have both kids out of high school, possibly one almost ready to graduate college. I might even be ready to attempt a BQ again for the 50-54 year old age for the 2027 Boston Marathon. Hopefully this cycle will see more world marathon majors. It will definitely see more national park visits and fun destination runs.

1.	42 years old	2019	1st world major marathon, 2nd and 3rd sub 4 hour marathon
2.	43 years old	2020	1st virtual marathon, remarried
3.	44 years old	2021	2nd virtual marathon, 1st national park visit
4.	45 years old	2022	2nd world major marathon
5.	46 years old	2023
6.	47 years old	2024	kids are out of high school
7.	48 years old	2025	could attempt a 50-54 year old BQ

1.	49 years old	2026
2.	50 years old	2027
3.	51 years old	2028	kids should be out of college
4.	52 years old	2029
5.	53 years old	2030	could attempt a 55-59 year old BQ
6.	54 years old	2031
7.	55 years old	2032

So, now that I have taken a look at the many accomplishments I have made in my running journey, it is time to take a hard look at my extreme fear of failure and how it is affecting my marathon performances.

To back up a little, let’s get some definitions to some key words down on the page.

fear= distressed emotion aroused by a threat, whether real or imagined
control= to command, dominate
earned= to acquire through merit deservedly
given= bestowed without any particular effort or without being earned
imposter syndrome= doubting your abilities and feeling like a fraud; failing to accept accomplishments & be deserving of accolades
emotion= feelings of fear, sorrow, joy, love, etc.
thought= idea, notion
belief= opinion or conviction
doubt= uncertainty, hesitation to believe

Self-doubt and a lack of confidence is self-sabotage. Currently I have a tape running in my head of negative self talk. I am constantly overthinking running and my performance instead of just running and doing what I have trained to do. I am scared. I have fear. This is actually not a bad thing at all. From what I have gleaned from the research I’ve done on this topic, self-doubt and fear are a very natural part of racing. This is actually where the magic is. If I always knew I could achieve my goals, it would mean my goals weren’t challenging or exciting enough. It isn’t that I need to get rid of every pressure, fear, or basically any negative emotion, it’s actually not that at all. Instead I need to face and embrace my fears, and in so doing I will have let go of the need to control them. On this same note, the idea of thought “suppression,” is silly. If I were to tell someone, “don’t think about a white elephant,” well, chances are ALL you’d be able to think about would be a white elephant. This is just how the brain works. In this case it isn’t a white elephant I’ve been trying to avoid, it’s been my inner pessimist that tells me that any successes I’ve had have all been flukes. Just small little miracles that were bestowed upon me without my having to earn them. So, this right here … this tape on loop saying things like, “you can’t hold this pace. You may have done this several times before, but that was a different time. You can’t possibly do that again. Those were crazy, lucky flukes,” is what I need to pause and address. Let’s pause the tape and let’s start thinking about my accomplishments in running. I earned these accomplishments. They were earned and not given.

So, the previous charts of seven year cycles and my accomplishments is there in black and white for me to look at any time I need a reminder of what I have worked very hard to accomplish. It’s time for me to stop letting my fear paralyze me. It’s time for me in that moment of extreme doubt to ask myself, “what’s the worst that can happen? what’s the best case scenario?” Whatever actually happens, it will all be okay. Maybe I need to replace all of the “I can’ts” with “I choose not to.” For instance, It’s not “I can’t hold this pace,” it’s more like “I choose not to hold this pace.” The simple fact is that it’s extremely difficult to reason my way through feelings, so I need to stop trying to do that. Instead, I need to accept the reality of whatever outcome my negative voice says is coming, but have my actions reflect the opposite. For example, if my negative voice tells me I’ll blow this marathon because I’m a bad runner, remind myself that I am a great runner who has accomplished many great things, and instead approach the marathon with confidence.

So whether shifts in the cosmos actually do occur every seven years or not, there is no denying that our lives can change drastically over the years. It has been quite interesting to review my seven year cycles and how my life has taken twists and turns. Life is precious and fleeting. My worth is not determined by the time on a race clock. Sometimes I will be so close, but not quite there. Sometimes I will miss the mark completely. Sometimes, the stars will align and everything will go perfectly. The point is never to give up, to never quit the fight. Only time will tell how my remaining seven year cycles will play out exactly, but one thing I can control is my response to my self-doubt and fear. Those things are there and they will always be there. These are natural feelings for any athlete who cares about their sport. The magic is in my response. It’s really all up to me.

Boston Marathon: an honest poem

Royal blue and yellow,
an official unicorn seal.
My devastated heart, jello
Unfortunately how I feel.

Wellesley girls offer kisses;
a scream tunnel carnival.
My qualifying time misses,
each increasingly more sorrowful.

Heartbreak Hill for them,
Bitter jealousy for me.
Boston Strong for them,
Fragile feelings for me.
Marathon Monday for them,
Miserable Monday for me.

It’s right on Hereford,
and left on Boylson.
Runners thank the Lord,
the most iconic run.

New England rolling hills
parlay the Citgo sign,
Friendswood, Texas loser feels
offer no finish line.

Wallowing in self-pity,
Going about my day.
Knowing I’m being shitty,
Discerning no other way.

It’s time to celebrate, 
for goodness sake.
It wasn’t my fate,
so cheer I fake.

It’s really hard to run away from yourself

I’ve written about running countless times. I’ve written about how when I’m running I am someone else. When I run I am strong, confident, beautiful, and worthy.

I’ve written a whole hell of a lot about how free running has made me feel. Free. Unrestrained. Empowered. Valuable.

I am still running, naturally, but not like I was before. I’m still running marathons, three in 2019, and one already in 2020, to be exact, and other races, but not as fast as I used to and not with the same amount of fervor.

So, what gives?

Well, I was running before not because I “wanted” to, but because I “needed” to. It was what I needed. It was an urgent, pressing need. I had to get away. I ran hard and I ran long. I ran until I was too tired to care about my problems. I ran to feel worthy. I ran to feel human. I ignored all of the bad parts of my life by running, and the running empowered me.

You see, when I was running, my problems simply didn’t exist. In that space they were utterly and completely nonexistent. Running and thinking about running became a wonderfully satisfying distraction. I had things to focus on. I was thriving.

The problem with this is that I was attempting to put lipstick on a pig. I was essentially saying, “everything is fine in my life if I’m doing this well with running. Everything is great. Life is good.”

So I tried to run away through my running; however, no matter how hard I tried, the problems still existed. Inside of me was an unhappiness that I simply could not run from. My unresolved issues were there. The more I ran, the more I was increasing the distance from the solution.

My unresolved clutter needed to be dealt with. Truly. I could not keep running. I needed to stop. I had to stop. Stay in one place and quit running. And I had to think. Really think about what I wanted and what was best. I had to think about that sense of pride I once had from persevering. At one point I felt like I kept grabbing for new, but my hands were so full with the old that I just ended up dropping everything.

So I made changes. Big changes. I took my life back. I stopped running from my problems and decided that I needed to change things in order to be the person I used to be. Needed to be. I am more than just my running. I am a complete person. I have people who depend on me to be my best.

So after the changes, it was time to heal and reflect and to run on my own terms. Not as a way to escape problems, but for the pure joy of running. To experience running in a different capacity. To be grateful to running for all of the solace it brought me through those tough times, but also to run for a new purpose. To be grateful for my present calm and to run happy. Truly.

But I have to admit, I do not feel the urgency and need to run I once felt. The running is simply not at the forefront of my mind. I feel free in my day-to-day life, and so I do not seek the escape from the present. I do not need running to feel free.

So, while I was unhappy before, I was an exceptional runner. What a conundrum. In order to run well I have to be unhappy? What, am I some sort of tortured artist who must “suffer for her craft?” Seriously?

No. I just need more time to adjust.

I have tackled my problems head-on and have begun to move on. Just like coming back from a physical injury, coming back from emotional injury is just as difficult, dare I say even more difficult. It is very difficult to write a new chapter before you have finished the previous chapter.

So I am back to writing again. And reflecting. And learning to run with joy. I am understanding now that before running was a numbing agent for me. Running produced a precarious scab that once upset slightly would cause me to bleed. I  am understanding that by running away I wasn’t fully present wherever I was supposed to be at the time.

I am now present. I will no longer run away from myself.

It’s Not Easy Being Green

Green is my favorite color.

As a poetic type, I really adore imagery and symbolism. I love the way that in literature, for instance, inanimate entities represent much larger ideas. So, naturally, the fact that I am drawn to the color green intrigues me. So, I sat down and thought about what the color green might symbolize. First, I began with the positive, naturally. There are many positive associations to the color green. Green leaves on plants signal that the plant is growing; therefore green symbolizes growth. Green leaves are the anticipation of things to come; green symbolizes hope. Plants need great care; green symbolizes nurture. In the Spring, plants begin to turn from brown to green; green symbolizes resurrection. In short, green renews and restores depleted energy. Well that all sounds really good, and while it’s just so much fun to concentrate on the pretty stuff, this little dreamer must consider the negative now.

Upon careful consideration, I have discovered that there are some pretty negative associations to the color green, unfortunately. The phrases “green with envy” and the “green-eyed monster” immediately jump to mind, meaning jealousy and envy. Green is associated with money, and therefore symbolizes greed, materialism, possesiveness, and selfishness.

Now, pause. You might be asking yourself, “why this sudden fixation on green and its meaning?” Well, that, naturally, has a little something to do with running, as everything in my life finds its way back to my running. You see, this past week, Boston Marathon applications were accepted. I, by a 21 second cushion, earned the right to submit my application, but it will most certainly be rejected, and I am completely prepared for this. Many of my hard working friends have been accepted, and I am thrilled for them. I am truly thrilled, but I am also dealing with this conflicting feeling of envy. I am, as it were, green with envy at the moment, and while it is uncomfortable to admit that, it is the honest truth.

So, lets back up a little here. If you’ve followed my story, you know that gaining entry into the Boston Marathon is most certainly on my list of long-term goals. This past year, my goal was to run a 3:45 marathon, period. I had no Boston Marathon goal set. I met my 3:45 goal with 21 seconds to spare. Success! The fact that this earned me the right to submit an application to run the Boston Marathon was simply an added perk. So, if applying for 2019 wasn’t even a goal, why am I suddenly saddened by the fact that I won’t be accepted?

Well, that is due to envy. Plain and simple. I look around and all I see are little Pacmen bolting around gobbling up PRs, age group wins, and BQs. These little yellow circles are constantly gobbling them up before looking for more. As soon as one is gobbled up, another target is thrown out instantly. It is very easy to get swept up in the ego of it all. Essentially, it sucks the joy out of running. With the help of writing and a good friend, I am starting to reconcile it all in my mind. I am reminding myself that I have a plan. A very systematic plan that I have been honing since 2013. I have gotten stronger each year and learned more, and I simply refuse to compromise my original intent: to use my passion for running to inspire and motivate others, and through this, become a better person myself. This small rejection is an excellent opportunity for me to motivate others. To let others know that it is normal to feel inferior and inadequate at times. While it’s a secret feeling that is impolite to admit, envy happens to everyone.

I mean, who hasn’t been touched by envy, right? The key is to allow the envy to be used as motivation and not as competition with another. The positive in envy is that it spurns ambition, enthusiasm, desire, and initiative. So I will use this envy to celebrate those that have been accepted to run Boston. I will celebrate them like no other; for, while I hope to one day join their ranks, that simply won’t be in 2019. It will happen, but I’m not sure when it will happen. I will wait in gleeful anticipation and know that my success will be counted sweetest after much hard work, dedication, and patience.

In Chinese philosophy, the yin and yang symbol represents two seemingly opposite or contrary forces and how they attract and complement each other. Neither side is superior to the other, as evidenced by the equal parts and small dots in the opposite colors. The idea here is that when one side increases, the other decreases, and the goal is for a balance between the two in order to achieve harmony.

So, yes, while green means envy, greed, selfishness, etc., (yin) green is also a positive color. It gives us the ability to love and nurture ourselves and others unconditionally (yang). It is the blanket of soft grass beneath our feet. It is the leaves on the beautiful, fragrant flowers we enjoy. Nature wears the colors of the spirit, and green is the color of nature. Perhaps green is the great balancer of the heart and emotions.

Discipline is the Bridge Between Goals and Accomplishment

I’m racing a 10K this weekend across a bridge. Now, it is important to note that this will not be my first experience with this race, nor this bridge. Oh no. This bridge and I know each other pretty well at this point. You see, I toed the line of this race five years ago when I was a beginning runner. At that point, I had about a year under my belt of running experience and I had consistently run 10K races at a pretty competitive pace. I was pretty confident going into the race. Definitely way too confident.

Eager to race hard and win my medal, I took off like a rocket on that race course that Sunday morning in September. Silly, silly little runner girl, for fast starts are for fools! Lacking experience and knowledge, I was foolish. About halfway into the race, I realized just how bad that finish time was going to be and I completely bailed on myself. I allowed myself to walk. I allowed myself to feel sorry for myself. I allowed myself to feel hopeless. I begrudgingly collected my race medal after I crossed the finish line and had a sour attitude driving home. In the following days, I questioned my abilities as a runner. I seriously considered quitting. For, as a girl who struggles with confidence, I’d almost rather save face and not try over trying with all of my heart and failing.

Obviously, if you know me at all, you know that I did not quit running after that less than stellar experience. No, I tucked my tail between my legs, licked my wounds, kept my head down, and continued to work on my running. I consulted training manuals and read running biographies. I asked for advice from experienced runners, and I pored over all of the data my running app afforded me. I wrote about my individual runs, and every few weeks I’d go back and read what I had written and compare those earlier runs to my current runs. In short, I became a student of the sport. I rather like being a student. I’m the girl that went to graduate school twice after undergraduate school, and my life’s work has been at a high school. I love to learn and I enjoy being tested … but it really crushes my confidence when I fail a test. This 10K bridge run from five years ago was a test I failed. The reason I failed is simple: I did not study. I did not prepare for the test. I had no bridge experience. I went into the race with a bravado I had no business possessing. So, once I regrouped, I did what every good student does: I studied my ass off and I practiced. But, I have been a coward. I have been a coward because I have stayed away from this race that left such a bad taste in my mouth. The reason is simple: I have felt too vulnerable to try this race again. I have been hedging my bets. I have not wanted to commit myself to trying this race again, for fear of the outcome, but it’s time to try again.

All these years this bridge run has been in the back of my mind. This bridge has been my albatross. Certainly, the metaphor of the bridge is not lost on me. I truly believe that the metaphor of running is one of the largest factors in my running obsession, so the fact that it is a bridge run that has me all out of sorts is really quite appropriate.

Let’s break down the bridge metaphor, shall we? A bridge offers a connection. The phrase “bridge the gap” comes to mind. So, the bridge is a connection, but it’s also a sort of obstacle. What a conundrum. During difficult times we find solace in knowing that once we “just get over that bridge” we will be in a better place on the other side, with all that trouble being mere “water under the bridge,” but we have to go through that difficult time before we can truly put it behind us.  We often say “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” meaning, let’s not focus on that difficult obstacle at this point, let’s focus on our current situation, but alas, at some point we must face the issue. The bridge allows us the stability to overcome an obstacle and transition from a difficult situation to a better outcome, but it’s really freaking hard sometimes to cross the bridge!

I have avoided this race for many years and it’s finally time for me to face this challenge. I must cross this bridge. In life, facing challenges is how we grow, and regardless of the outcome, I’m ready to face this challenge.

 

Realizing Life While We Live It

“Does anyone ever realize life while they live it…every, every minute?” Emily Webb from Our Town

What is the human condition? Obviously it’s the big things, like birth, aging, and death, but there in the middle part, it’s conflict and aspiration. It’s love and friendship. It’s that choked up, lump in your throat, overwhelming feeling that is all encompassing. That middle part is what makes us human, what makes us curious, what makes us feel alive. Those are the things that life is really all about. In order to truly understand ourselves, we look to the past and to those around us in the present as a way to understand the human condition.

I have had the distinct pleasure of finding a group of ladies within my running group that make me want to be a better runner and a better person. They inspire, motivate, and support me, and for this, I am truly grateful. I feel like we are a sorority of sorts, just as the early pioneer running women were. This is precisely what prompted us recently to recreate a photograph of the women who were permitted to race the 1972 Boston Marathon as the first official female registrants. We researched and dressed as these amazing pioneer women, and it was an extraordinarily uplifting experience.

This photograph recreation served as a way for us to honor the legacies of the past, through not only our connection to each other, but our connection with these women through time. For, these pioneer women paved the way for all of us to run with passion and joyful hearts. What better way to pay homage to them than to rally around each other in a concerted effort to achieve more? Reading about these women’s journeys has inspired and motivated us, and we have a renewed resolve to tackle this next round of marathon training.

But, truth be told, all of this respect we’re paying to these amazing women has me taking a good, hard look at my interactions with other runners. I’d like to think of myself as supportive and encouraging to all of my fellow runners, but do I sometimes feel insecure about my running? Yes. Do I sometimes feel jealous of another runner’s success? Yes. Do I sometimes wish I, too, could run the 2019 Boston Marathon alongside the best runners out there? Yes. Do I sometimes feel like I truly don’t belong on the starting line? Yes. Do I sometimes worry my days are numbered with this whole running thing? Yes. Do I wish I could run faster for longer? Yes. What do all of these thoughts tell me about myself? Well, probably just that I am human. I am human. I make mistakes. I say and do the wrong things sometimes. I feel insecure and unworthy at times. But I also feel happy for all of my running friends’ successes. I am thrilled for those running Boston in 2019. I will be the first one to tell another runner “I am proud of you,” and I genuinely mean it. I do. I want the best for all of us, but that doesn’t preclude me from feeling all of the yucky things I mentioned above.

I guess the best thing this photograph recreation activity has done for me and my friends is made us appreciate and admire those pioneer women’s courageousness and it has made us strive to continue their legacy through our offers of support and encouragement for each other. We may not all run at the same pace for the same distance, but we are all out there fighting that good fight. We are all courageous in that we try. One foot in front of the other, we run. We aren’t always motivated to start, but we find a way to muster up the desire to run. We resist that temptation to quit and we keep fighting. We are inspiring to each other and to the next generation of women that are watching us juggle all areas of our lives and still train for our sport. We are athletes and athletes cheer for athletes. Our duty is to lift each other up and we are committed to what Sara Mae Berman (F1) said, “…We never had any animosity with each other. We just all tried our hardest, and figured the winner would be the one who had trained best or had the most talent.”

So that’s our takeaway from this photograph recreation: train hard and support each other, not just in running, but in life. Celebrate the human condition by realizing life while we live it. If we can manage that, we will all win.

1972 Boston Marathon Female Entrants

F2 Nina Kuscsik 3:10:26 aka Ana Lira

F6 Kathrine Switzer Miller 3:29:51 aka Liz Horton

F3 Elaine Pederson 3:20:25 aka Kimberly Etzel

F5 Ginny Collins 4:48:32 aka Maria Anker

F4 Pat Barrett 3:40:29 aka Dendy Farrar

F10 Frances Morrison 5:07:00 aka Priscilla Fierro

F1 Sara Mae Berman 3:48:30 aka Ileana Sepulveda

Valerie Rogosheske 4:29:32 (not pictured) aka Anh Hunter

Are we running or are we talking? Why not both?

I recently had a conversation with a beloved runner friend about talking while racing. You see, at my last marathon, January’s Chevron Houston Marathon, I talked, off and on, for 20 miles with my group. It was very nice. Not long, drawn out discussions or anything, just funny little observations on the race course, quick questions of my comrades, just kind of passing the time and the miles, waving at spectators, “run dancing” with the belly dancers that were out entertaining runners and spectators, you know, having an awesome time.

 

But, if we’re racing and we’re talking are we expending too much energy and wasting our breaths, as it were?

 

Hmmmm. Well, here’s the long and short of it, at least according to me.

 

The largest first portion of the race I need to remain calm and in control of my pace. I do NOT need to attempt to run on “feel.” Oh no, big mistake. It feels great in the beginning! No, the largest first portion of the race needs to be restrained. I have to be checking my watch and making sure I am not going out too fast. I need to ignore the excitiement of racing I’m feeling and ignore all of the runners around me that are zipping past me. I need to ease into it. Talking is actually a very good test of my intensity. I need to be relaxed and talking for the first 20 miles of my marathons. Now, the last 10K, no, I’m not talking then. I’m gradually increasing my speed as I get closer and closer to that finish line. The last two miles — I might be able to smile at you, but I will not be able to talk to you.

 

People say all the time that distance running is as much mental as it is physical, and I couldn’t agree with this more. I have gotten too much into my own head, for lack of a better phrase, that I have ruined my own race. It has happened. I have also ruined my own race by disregarding my training and starting my race out too fast. I’ve actually done that more than a few times through the years, and I have finally learned my lesson. Being able to utter words and phrases here and there to nearby runners during a race is a good thing, in my opinion. As a runner who lacks confidence at times and can tend to either be intimidated by other runners, or to get distracted by faster runners around me, it is good for me to relax, maintain the pace I have previously set for myself, and to remain calm and in control. Chatting up nearby runners helps me with this.

 

So, while I get that we are all different, and that is what I truly enjoy about humankind in general, chatting during long distance races is a good thing for me. It forces me to relax and remain in control and it keeps me happily distracted from this monumental task at hand. Now, I’m the first to admit that I am still learning about running, and I’m also the first to admit that my opinion on this topic could very well change, but for right now anyway, a little chatting during a marathon is THE BEST!

Running is so very difficult in the summer, and the winter, and … well, it’s just difficult, period.

This past summer I wrote about how very difficult summer running can be because of heat and humidity. Houston, Texas is a real sauna in the summer, believe you me. This past summer, I would have said that unequivocally, it is hardest to run in the summer months. However, after the cold snap we experienced where my feet were feeling the coolness emanating off the concrete and my hands were going numb from the cold, maybe winter running is equally difficult. It is certainly not an extreme cold that we experience here in Houston, Texas, but running in colder temperatures for several hours will certainly wear on a girl, regardless.

So … which is more difficult … summer running or winter running? Or is it that running is just difficult in general?

Honestly, I guess it might depend on which month it is when I try to decide. If I were asked in the summer which was more difficult, I’m quite sure I’d say the summer, and vice versa. In life we tend to struggle with the here and now difficulties. We focus on what is hard for us at the moment and we believe that once certain circumstances change, we will be afforded great relief. Then said circumstances change, and while we enjoy some relief, we find there is a new set of difficulties plaguing us and we reflect back on that earlier time. The earlier time suddenly seems less awful in comparison to our present hell. In other words, we romanticize the past and overdramatize our present struggle. The same is certainly true in running.

Running is hard. It is hard because the runner is forced to keep going, even when his mind tells him he should stop. Even when his muscles tighten and burn and his legs become extraordinarily heavy. Even when he gets emotional and sheds tears. Even when he becomes hungry and feels weak. Even when his jelly legs cause him to slip and fall. Even when his feet feel raw and blistered. The runner keeps running. One foot in front of the other. The runner keeps it moving. Keeps going forward. Just when it seems there’s no possible way the runner could run any more steps, behold, the finish line appears.

Setbacks and struggles are inevitable in life. They just are. We must persevere through difficult times and learn from them. In retrospect, these tough times were mere blips in time that passed. It always passes. Additionally, we are grateful for the good times when we experience the bad times. Would we even think to recognize the good times if it weren’t for the bad times?

Running is challenging. Period. It teaches us about ourselves. It challenges us. It frustrates us. It invigorates us. It makes us feel alive.

Post Marathon Reflection

So this year I finally decided to try the Hansons Marathon Method. I had looked into the plan several times after seeing the success of so many of my running idols, but I was always intimidated by the amount of weekday miles it included and the absence of super long weekend miles. I was very skeptical, only because it was not what I was used to.

Now, it should be noted that I have never been formally trained by a coach, never been given a “training plan,” never run for a team, etc. For the first five years of my running I scoured the internet for training plans, read books and articles, and experimented with my running. My training consisted of a hodgepodge of various training plans leading up to my first three marathons. And, every time I went out for a run, I was trying to see how fast I could go. I did not have “easy run” days or true “speed workouts.” How silly I was! Varied workouts with different goal paces is the way to go.

It wasn’t until this past training cycle that I not only decided to fully commit to training the Hansons way, but I also joined an advanced marathon training club where I was instantly surrounded by coaches and other hard working like-minded runners. Again, this was different than what I was used to. I completed nearly all of my runs solo before joining the group, so this took some getting used to.

I very quickly began to love the camaraderie and support I received from my coaches and newfound training partners. Before too long, I considered these people close friends. I can honestly say now that I would do anything, within reason, for them.

The main thing I learned through my training this year is the thing I read over and over, but never really followed:

Don’t go out too fast.

It’s so simple, isn’t it? Ease into it, then go fast at the end. Use that energy you’ve been saving up to blow through that finish chute and throw those arms up as you cross that finish line!

Doesn’t that sound fun? It really is.

You see, I have learned, through my personal running mistakes, that you can sort of “fake it” with shorter distance races. 5Ks, 10Ks, even half marathons. You can go out a little too fast with those and still salvage your race. But the marathon, that is a beast of a race. Those that are walking or barely jogging at the finish line are most likely doing that because they started out too fast, left nothing in their tanks, and are now suffering. I know that’s what happened to me at the conclusion of my first three marathons.

So, all of that being said, I chose to reflect on my marathon race with the Hansons “Assessing Race Success and Determining Future Direction.”

Was I able to complete all of the training as scheduled? If not, did I run more than scheduled or less?

• Yes and no. Yes, except when I had the flu. Yes, except when I was out of town, got turned around, found my way, and chose not to risk losing my way again and skipped a couple of miles. So, I guess this is a no. Can it ever be a true yes? Maybe I can find out next year.

Was I able to hit all of the prescribed workout paces? If not, were there specific workout types that gave me trouble?

• Yes and no. Yes, except for when I almost passed out after taking too many salt pills. Why was I even taking salt pills? I don’t even sweat that much. There’s an example of me trying something unnecessarily and then suffering. Stick to what works. Stick to the plan! No one told you to take salt tablets! So, let’s try for a resounding yes on this one next year.

Did I run any of the workouts, easy days, or long runs faster than prescribed?

•     Yes. I’ve already been yelled at about this. I get it now. I won’t do this again.

Was this training cycle at a higher level of weekly mileage than usual? Higher than I’ve ever done?

•     Yes, and hell yes!

Was the goal pace faster than I’ve ever run? Was goal pace too aggressive?

• Hell yes! Not too aggressive. I finished right under my goal time. Yay!

Were my goals appropriate relative to recent performances and fitness?

• Yes. Even though it seemed lofty, my goal was right in my wheelhouse.

How well did I execute my race plan? Did I start too fast? Too slow?

• Excellent. I started out easy & opened it up after mile 20 for the last 10K. I can finally say that I did NOT go out too fast! I’m so happy to report that I trusted my training & ran according to my plan. Everything fell in line perfectly.

Did I have people to race? Was the crowd support good?

• Interesting question. For the first 20 miles I ignored everyone around me except for my awesome running partners, and concentrated on my goal marathon pace and not going any faster. I sort of put blinders on, as I am ever so tempted to pass people in the beginning. As far as racing people during the last 10K, it honestly wasn’t even like that. I’m so happy to report that I was simply finally able to open it up and drop below my goal marathon pace, and that just meant I passed everyone around me. I can’t even count how many people I passed during that last 10K. The crowd support was amazing. Houston never disappoints.

What was going on in my life during this training cycle?

• Just life. The same old, same old. Full time job, married, two children who participate in extracurricular sports and need help with homework, transportation, etc., household chores, shopping, strength training. weight lifting, cross training.

Was my life more stressful or less stressful than past training cycles?

•  I would say it was the same amount of stress as past training cycles.

What was my pre-race routine like compared to past cycles?

• It was the same. I like to get to the convention center early, check my bag, use the restroom, and attend Mass.

Did I get sick during this training cycle?

• Yes, with the damn flu. It was horrible.

Was I dealing with any injuries this training cycle?

• Nope, but strangely enough every year in the past I did. I ran more miles under a more aggressive plan, and stayed injury free. I’m going to give all the credit to the Hansons plan. That was the only thing I did differently from past years.

What was my sleep like this training cycle?

• I’d say it was about the same. I went to bed a little later on Tuesday and Thursday nights, but still got my requisite 6 hours of sleep a night.

What was the weather like this training cycle? Did I adjust for weather?

• It was standard Houston weather. Muggy and hot for most of the training cycle. I de-rated for humidity as suggested by my coach.

Last year’s post marathon reflection was sad for me. I missed my goal … by a lot. I regressed from the previous year. It was disheartening, but I learned a lot from it. Had last year’s marathon not happened, would I have trained as hard as I did this year? I’m not sure.

This year was different. This year I ran my fastest time yet and managed, by 21 seconds, to qualify for the Boston Marathon. This gave me a tremendous boost in confidence and made me realize that my dream of one day running the Boston Marathon might be closer than I thought. Could I run 2-3 minutes faster and creep into Boston Marathon acceptance? I’m going to try my hardest to find out.