Long Run to Philly - 7 Miles

I woke up yesterday and thought it was Monday. I let out a sigh. I had to go to work. It took me a couple of moments before I realized it was Sunday. Another sigh. I had to go for a long run. It's not that the long runs are so horribly long at this point. I'm just in the grinding stage of the training. I'm several months removed from the excitement of starting off and a lot of months away from the starting line. Right now, it's about logging the miles and trying to avoid that temperature/humidity cocktail. I crammed in two long runs into the same week last week combined with travel. My legs definitely felt it. It's been a milder summer than most. Last week we even got some rain. I was able to run after work because of the cloud cover and temperatures were 10 degrees less than normal. It's just about getting out there right now.

Seven weeks down. Eighteen to go.

Long Run to Philly - 6 miles

Squeezed in a long run before heading for the coast. I knew the call of the beach and bloodys on Sunday would be too much for me. Nice and easy run. 72 degrees and 97% humidity.

Six weeks down. Nineteen to go.

Long Run to Philly - 5 Miles

I've been reading a lot about Lewis and Clark lately. Like them, I'm on my own trail of discovery. Unlike them, my goal is not to find a water route to the Pacific. My goal is to finish my ninth marathon. My first one in ten years. Career and family changes have had a way of interrupting training during that span. Now, I'm 50+ and menopausal, so it should be an interesting journey. I'm using the USA Fit Training Schedule. I used it to train for my first marathon and for my previous marathons. I've completed plenty of half marathons during that span. I usually get to 15 miles and then something unexpected, good or bad, happens. We'll see this time. I've chosen the Philadelphia Marathon on November 23, 2014, as my goal because that's an off-week for my beloved Texas Longhorns, no home or away games. I'm sure on another level it represents freedom.

Yesterday's long run goal was five miles. A nice and easy run though at 72 degrees and 97% humidity, I felt as if I had a blanket over my back. I froze my water bottle like I read on a recent Runner's World post. It worked, keeping my water nice and cold for the duration of the run; although there was that annoying sound of an ice block swirling around in my container towards the finish. I'm sure by the end of the summer here in Central Texas that won't be a problem.

Five weeks down. Twenty to go.

Pick Me

I’m the runner you pick off at the end of a race. The one you’ve been sizing up from the halfway point. The one you tell yourself, “I don’t care about my time. I just want to finish in front of ….” It’s okay, I’ve done that too; usually it’s someone in an air cast or kilt. 

I knew I was the prey yesterday at the Freedom 5000. A July 4^th run around Camp Mabry. I saw a woman with “Tex Ass” printed across her shorts walking in front of me. I passed her; concentrating on keeping up my pace. I had a nice run going and didn’t want to mess it up. She started running, stopping a few hundred feet in front of me, and, then, walking again. She did this three more times. I clearly stirred something in her. She finally pulled away and finished ahead of me. I tried to summon my inner Leo Manzano, but no kick would come. I probably had more than ten years on her and I was on day 40 of the Runner’s World Run Streak. At least, that’s what I told myself.

I couldn’t fault her; if I had “Tex Ass” across my butt, I wouldn’t let me pass me either. At least, I made her work for it. 

The Longest Day for the Longest Hill

A recent Facebook post from Your Austin Marathon said this: Battle San Jacinto. San Jac is a “cruel 85-foot climb over a quarter of a mile that starts the final mile.  If you didn’t prepare for it, it can really take you down.”  It’s not the worst hill ever, but after several hours taking a beating, your quadriceps don’t know the difference. It feels like a long hill even with all the people lining up to cheer you on.

Today, on June 21, 2014, summer solstice, the Alzheimer’s Association, honors those who are on their longest hills as teams from all over the world come together to “honor the strength, passion and endurance of those facing Alzheimer's with a day of activity.” My dad passed away several months ago from complications related to Alzheimer’s. For the more than 5 million of Americans living with the disease and over 15 million caregivers, every day is an uphill effort. Every valley leads to a bigger hill. Today, I pray for families of caregivers who are just now starting their own journeys. My brother and mom were my dad’s primary caregivers. They embraced the challenge in such a way that my dad was able to pass away at home when he was ready. And, isn’t that what we all want ... to finish our race on our own terms.

ABOUT THE LONGEST DAY

On The Longest Day, teams around the world come together to honor the strength, passion and endurance of those facing Alzheimer's with a day of activity. Held on the summer solstice, June 21, 2014, this event calls on participants to raise funds and awareness to advance the efforts of the Alzheimer's Association.

This Was Me

I could relate to the posts. "Pro runner Lauren Fleshman challenged runners to post unflattering photos of themselves in an effort to keep it real and redefine the meaning of beauty." Like many of the women who posted, I had regretted the double chins, bulging waistlines, and cheese thighs I saw in my finish line photos. I always wondered why those companies thought I would ever purchase photos that looked like that. My latest finish line photo was no exception. I reluctantly clicked open my Austin Half photos waiting in my inbox. The usual initial disappointment. That’s really what I look like? I took another look at the “keeping it real” photos. I admired them. If they could put themselves out there, I could too. I went back and purchased my photo.

For better or worse, this was me. A woman of a certain age. Uncropped. I had purchased a Road ID because I wasn’t immortal, upped my calcium intake because I wasn’t unbreakable, and rested more after long runs because I wasn’t unflagging. I learned the upside of hot flashes, heading out on cold, long runs like a surfer catching a wave. I reminded myself the photographer had asked me if I wanted to take the photo and I had said “yes” enthusiastically. I had chosen to have the photo taken. This was me.

February 16, 2014 - Austin Half Marathon

The Payoff for Winter

Time to prune my roses.  A February 15 ritual that signals spring is around the corner, for me anyway. Central Texas may have a few more freezes between now and Easter. There are warmer than cooler days ahead though. My roses know this. Their branches shoot out new leaves each day benefiting from my post run coffee grounds and banana peels the months before. My bird of paradise that I had been hauling inside and out during freezes, finally had a beautiful yellow and purple spathe jutting out from it—the first time it’s bloomed in four years. The milkweed was bunching up for the coming Monarchs. My over-wintering hummingbird was still slurping up my feeder nectar. Spring is shaping up to be the payoff for what I did in winter, yard-wise and running-wise.

Yesterday, I was churning up Congress Avenue, miles three through six, during the Austin Half Marathon. A gradual ascent; there were worse hills, this was the Hill Country after all. These 200 feet seemed to go on forever; especially when I could see all the participants moving up the hill in front of me. All the buoyant expectant conversation around me suddenly quieted in focused effort.  This was serious business. I was half way up the climb when I realized I hadn’t thought about stopping yet.  I checked myself. This wasn’t like me.  I wasn’t huffing and puffing as much or convincing myself walking up it would save my legs later. I wasn’t straining. I was striving. Those long weekend runs to campus and back the past few months were making a difference. Duval was making me stronger. I just hadn’t realized it. When I reached the section where the half marathoners turned back towards downtown and the full runners turned left, I asked myself if I could’ve gone left. Could I have gone farther?  Not today, I told myself, but it’s only 13 miles more if I train. Only 13 more miles? That’s a thought I haven’t had in years and a seed planted for future seasons.