Diary of a Slacker - Life as a Marathon

I've been doing nothing but short runs in recent months, so the appalling lack of content on my iPod has been a moot point.  If I'm only going out for a mile or two, I don't really need the earphones in and tunes or an audio book or podcast chattering at me.  Of course, every time it would occur to me to grab it, I'd discover the iPod was out of juice.  Then, too, it happens to be linked with the iTunes library on my desktop.  Which has been inoperable for the past 3 months on account of my monitor dying.  I did eventually replace it. I just haven't bothered to hook the new one up yet.  Yes, my life is a sad testament to the power of procrastination.  


Anyway, in anticipation of eventually stretching out to longer runs, I've been wanting to download some podcasts for my listening enjoyment while I endure the torture.  And rather than be bothered with the whole hooking-up-of-the-monitor and charging-of-the-iPod thing, I finally opted to download them to my iPhone. I run with it much of the time anyway so I can use my RunKeeper app.  Which tracks all manner of exercise activity, including running, biking and swimming.  But, strangely, not napping.  


I've several politically-oriented podcasts to which I regularly listen, so I subscribed to those.  And then I also, with a bit of searching, managed to locate and subscribe to podcasts from my church. Which I love to go to, but somehow rarely seem to do.  The two things you never talk about at the dinner table?  I'm all about 'em both.  They're music to my ears and inspiration to my sorry feet.  


So, iPhone suitably stocked, I resolved to get in a good work out tonight.  I've struggled to stick to my running schedule (not surprisingly.)  Socializing, sleep-deprivation, and cruddy weather have conspired to knock me off it.  But tonight, I knew I'd have a golden opportunity: Riley has acting class from 5:30 to 7:00, right by the "Y". That would give me well over an hour to get a good run in and maybe.....a swim!   I honestly cannot tell you the last time I swam (for training purposes, as opposed to fun).  It was sometime early last summer (i.e., 2010) I think.  I wasn't even sure I could locate a usable pair of goggles -- ultimately, I settled for the scratched up pair Riley used all this past summer.  


After depositing her at her class, I hustled over to the "Y," and snagged a treadmill for my run.  I figured I could manage a solid two miles.  And I had podcasts!  I opted for some religion tonight, and so pressed play to this past week's sermon: http://www.wcrossing.org/rss.aspx?c=1&f=1     Though I've not made it all the way through it, yet, you can imagine my surprise when, about 15 minutes in, the pastor, referencing a passage from Hebrews, began speaking of "the race that is marked out for us."  What lies before us - is not a 40 yard dash, it's a marathon.  And it's easy to lose focus and be hindered by the every day worries that litter our path.  


Fitting that.  In so very many ways.  They don't happen all that often, but I love the grace of those moments. They do serve me well -- as both guidance and inspiration.  Though I'd have gladly stepped off the treadmill at 1.25, I kept my focus and pushed on to the full 2.  And, though, I approached my swim with some apprehension, not sure if I could manage even 4 laps, it seemed to me that 24 would be a nice, solid reintroduction to what is, in truth, my favorite part of training.  Though it is challenging and tiring, there is something so peaceful and even rejuvenating about propelling your body steadily and rhythmically through the water.  You're alone with your thoughts and uniquely able to focus.  


And so, while I initially gave some thought to stopping at 18 laps, I stretched it out to the full 24.  Just a little over a third of a mile, completed in roughly 18 minutes.  No speed record there, but it was a good solid swim and I was pretty pleased with it.  


And no, unlike some of my far more dedicated friends, I'll not be running a marathon anytime in the near future.  But then again, I'm running one every day. We all are.  

Diary of a Slacker - 11/15

4:50 a.m. No - my alarm didn't go off.  My brain just decided to make an unscheduled detour out of Dream Land. As I rolled over and stared blearily at the clock, I grumbled to myself. Only 35 minutes until the alarm was set to go off. I'd be lucky if I fell back asleep....but I did.  For what seemed like 10 seconds.  Then came the incessant bleating.  My hand clumsily slapped the snooze button.  And I thought to myself that I could actually wait and run this evening.  I tend to run better in the afternoon/evening anyway.  And another 40 minutes of sleep would be heavenly...

No.  "No excuses." That's what I keep telling myself.  And if I don't stick with it, I'm going to be a lost cause.  Slackerdom is far too easy and appealing.  So, up I got, and threw on my running pants and a long-sleeved tee.  Checked the weather -- showed 48 degrees.  Okay. Livable.  Yawn, stretch, groan.  Let's do this!

There was a fair amount of cloud cover and, at first, I thought my GPS might do a number on me again, but eventually, the little green ball lit up, assuring me that somewhere out there, Big Brother was, indeed, watching.  I set out at what felt like a somewhat faster pace than I've been employing of late.  Felt good until I made it about half way up the hill on Baxter, and suddenly felt like walking might be nice.  No, I thought.  Keep chugging along.  So, I did.  

I'm going to be damn glad when a measly 1.2 miles doesn't feel like 12.  Sheesh.  But I ran it all, and clocked a semi-decent 10:27 min/mile pace.  At least I'm moving in the right direction.  Going to have to sneak an extra run in either tomorrow morning or Friday (probably the latter), as Saturday or Sunday runs seem highly unlikely.  I aim to be having fun with friends in Indy this weekend.  Woot!

Diary of a Slacker - 11/13

So, I'm going to take a moment and pat myself on the back for completing four runs in six days.  That's probably the most frequency-wise I've done in well over a year. Distance/endurance-wise? Yeah - I still have a long way to go. 

Thursday morning, I woke up with the alarm, ready to go...until I saw that the temperature outside was in the mid-30's.  That was almost enough to persuade me that I should just blow it off and try to enjoy an extra 30 minutes of sleep.  Then, knowing that the "Y" does open at 5:00 a.m., I decided to heed my "no excuses" mantra, and get on with it. So, off I went to the "Y," arriving shortly before 6:00 a.m. I have to admit, I was somewhat surprised at just how crowded it was at that ungodly hour.  Fitness freaks abound! I hopped on the treadmill and churned out 1.25 in just over 13 minutes.  Not bad. Mission accomplished.

Saturday morning was a bit more of a chore.  Knew my brother would be here at 7:45 a.m. to pick us up for the trek down to Columbia for the Mizzou game. Which meant I had to be up and out the door by 6:00 ish.  That's a tough sell on a Saturday.  And it was chilly - lower 40's.  What was worse, neither my lungs nor my legs were cooperative.  Even though I ran my standard 1.2 around the neighborhood, I had to stop and walk a couple times.  Frustrating, knowing that, at times, I've been able to run 5 or 6 straight without walking.  Not so much at present.  Still, it was something.

Today was a total change of pace (no pun intended).  We were pushing 80 this afternoon temperature-wise.  (Wish it had been like that at the game yesterday!!) After dropping off Riley at a birthday party, I donned some shorts and a t-shirt and headed out for what was intended to be a 2 mile run.  (My "long" run of the week.)  I wasn't exactly certain of the route I wanted to take, so I just improvised as I went along.  And it turned into a 2.5 mile run. Although, in fairness, about .5 of it (on the uphills) was walking.  Still, I finished it in under 30 minutes.  And didn't feel awful afterward, save for the fact that my calves were burning and sorely disappointed that the hot tub is apparently on the fritz.

I know my chances to run outside are going to become few and far between here soon.  So I'm glad I was able to this weekend.  One thing I definitely need to do is get some podcasts downloaded onto my Nano -- those long runs are going to be rough, especially if I'm relegated to the treadmill.  Thankfully, I have several awesome sources from which to choose -- a little church, a little politics -- may not make for great dinner table talk, but to keep me company while I pound out the miles?  Music to my ears. 

Diary of a Slacker - 11/8

Oh, hello.  Yes, yes it has been two weeks since I posted an entry.  I didn't choose the title of this series lightly. But I don't take this renewed effort to get back into half-marathon form lightly either. It's just that the running gods saw fit to flatten me with a weird flu-ish chest coldy thing just as I was getting back into the running groove.  


Today was the first day I felt capable of forcing the lungs and legs back into their involuntary servitude.  Thankfully, the weather was mild.  Though it was quite dark still at 5:50, and the skies spat at me a bit, it was a relatively pleasant morning for a run.  I did my standard wimpish 1.2 miles, though at an arguably more respectable pace this time - roughly a 10:25 minute mile.  


The short term goal is to churn out similar runs on Thursday and Saturday and then a 2+ miler on Sunday.  The long term goal is to be running 4 comfortably for my Sunday "long runs" by year's end. This is doable.  If I can stay semi-healthy, anyway!

Diary of a Slacker - 10/25

So, as indicated in my previous entry, I've resolved to get back to this running thing.  Sunday morning, it was only a mile, and I figured I'd churn another couple of those out this week, and then bump it up to two.  Originally, the plan was to run yesterday evening.  But I was actually sore from Sunday!?! (In my defense, I did hike about three miles around South City carting a lawn chair in my efforts to cheer on the real runners, but still!) And yesterday's lunch, though quite yummy, left my stomach feeling a little on the not-so-good side.  And, most importantly, I really wanted (needed!) to get a pedicure after work....


And the excuses are so very devious and determined to knock me off my game!  So I decided to push back: I'd set my alarm for 5:30 this morning and get up and run then - ha!  That'd show 'em!  Or something.  As I finally collapsed into bed after midnight, I had a fleeting thought that maybe an extra half hour of sleep was more desirable than a pre-dawn run, but I resisted the temptation to knock the alarm time back to 6:00.  And wow did 5:30 come early!  


Fortunately, I woke up in non-groggy mode, and was able to drag myself out of bed and into my running attire, finally making it out the door at 5:52.  Not bad, but, seeing as I had to meet Jim & Riley in The Valley, at 6:30, it didn't leave me a lot of time.  There'd be no taking it slow this morning! Thankfully, it was in the 50's so the run temp was quite bearable.  My shoes each took a turn coming untied, but, honestly, since it was during the uphill stretch, I didn't mind the momentary breathers to re-tie and stave off the looming face plants on the concrete in the dark.  


I knew the GPS on my Runkeeper app wasn't working right when I took off, but I didn't have time to fool with it.  Sure enough, as I completed my run, I was amused to see that the program had tacked on roughly .3 miles to my route, which knocked my pace down to a 9:06 min/mile pace.  Heh.  Yeah - I don't think I'm there quite yet.  Then the stupid thing didn't post to Facebook or Twitter, so I decided to post it manually. Only, instead of putting in 13 minutes as my completion time, I accidentally put in 13 hours.  Which apparently translates into 1132 calories burned, despite the snail-like pace.  So - if you're ever looking for a way to burn a bunch of calories, and have half a day or so to spare, now you know!


Despite the technical difficulties, I was actually feeling quite good about this morning's run.  Then I made the mistake of stepping on the scale, and subsequently doubled-down by accidentally pulling out a pair of my Size 2 pants from my uber-skinny days and attempting to don them as I got ready for work.  Yeah, I'm about 12-15 pounds past those.   I don't know if I'll ever be able to reclaim them as appropriate attire, but I'm going to take a shot at it.  And in the meantime, try and figure out a way to trick gravity into redistributing weight upwards.  

Diary of a Slacker - The Return

Those who have been Facebook friends with me for awhile may recall my Diary of a Slacker Notes.  I've not kept up with those - true to form, I've been slacking. Not only have I not kept up with recording my run-training progress, I've not kept up with my running. At least not very well. But that's about to change.

It isn't just the fact that most of my pants have gotten a bit too snug for comfort that has inspired me to snap out of this lazy streak and seriously get back to the running.   Today was the Rock 'n Roll Marathon & Half Marathon - a race for which I'd signed up with every intention of completing. It's already been a year and a half since I ran one - far too long.

But I cut the timing of training-in-earnest awfully close as it was. And then I let some sickness and a little sadness take me out of the game all together. It got to the point where I knew if I tried to push it, I'd probably end up hurting myself.  So the excuses won the day and I bailed.

It was the right decision, but as I was picking up my packet with my friend Tina at the Expo yesterday, I felt more than a twinge of regret that I wouldn't be running today. Even more so as I stood along the course today and watched all the runners go by. I was happy to cheer them on, but sad not to be running along side them.

One of my favorite things about today was listening to my friends, The Hulapoppers, play at the Mile 12/Mile 25 marker and seeing the look of sheer joy that would overtake some of the runners' faces as familiar tunes tickled their ears.  In some, you'd see a little hop-skip in their stride.  The music combined with the realization that they truly were in the home stretch.  I remember what that feels like - when it sinks in that you really do only have a mile left to go, and what's a mile when you've just run 12 (or 25)?!  There's nothing quite like it.  And I aim to get there again.

As a show of solidarity to my friends who actually were running today, I'd resolved to go for a short run myself this morning before heading down to the race.  It had been over a month since I'd run, and it seemed the least I could do. But when I woke up this morning, it was chilly, and I was already running a little late, and I knew I'd have to walk quite a way once I got down there, and....  The excuses tried to get the better of me again.    

But I didn't let them.  It wasn't much, but I churned out a mile - at a whopping 11:20 minute pace.  Yeah.  That's gonna need to improve.  Substantially.  And it will.  Because it's embarrassing to acknowledge my slugginess when I know I'm capable of far better.  So I'll be inflicting the return of my Slacker's Diary on any of you charitable enough to follow along.  It'll help keep me focused. Which is a good sort of thing.

The Tears of October

I need to preface this entry with an apology -- it's a little dark and rather intensely personal. And it's probably the opposite of what many of us need at the moment. I've written so infrequently of late that I feel guilty sharing this. But when the words want out, they want out....


I know many people love Fall: the cool, crisp air, the leaves as they change, the smoky smell of them burning, or of marshmallows roasting over fire pits, football and tailgating, playoff baseball...


I love those things, too.  But this time of year always brings with it the bittersweet taste of tears for me.  It was 29 years ago, and the Cardinals were playing Milwaukee (then an American League team) in the World Series.  They won Game 7 on Wednesday, October 20, 1982 - I remember the evening well. I was home with my Dad, typing a paper on Euclid for my Geometry class and watching the game.  (Mom was out of town for work -- ironically, in Milwaukee.)  We were elated with the win.  Later that night, though, would come a terrible loss. I wrote a poem about it some months later for my English class. If you'll indulge me, I think I'll let the 14 year old me tell the story:

Death of a Dream

Death is cruel and unrelenting;

Its hand reaches all ends of the earth.

It lurks around every corner,

Present from the time of our birth.

Its victims are not those who it claims,

For the pain ends for them once they die.

It stays, though, forever with those of us

Who find it so hard to say goodbye.

I, too, have known this awful pain.

I've felt it three times this past year.

First Grandpa, then Rich, then my cat.

Rich's story I'll tell with a tear:

He was my dear sister's boyfriend.
I know he meant everything to her.
And though I met him just a few times,
He was right for her, I was sure.


He was warm, and cute, and funny.
Her love for him was strong and true.
And I saw her happiness mount
As their love for each other grew.


The Cardinals won the World Series
On that horrible night that he died.
When I found out about it the next day,
I just ran to my friend's house and cried.


I remember finding out on a Thursday.
We'd had a sock-hop at school after a game.
I got home and knew something was wrong
When I heard my Mom call my name.


She'd been out of town on business,
And was, I thought, in Milwaukee that day.
When I saw her my heart leapt in fear
As I noted her state of dismay.


I asked what was wrong and she told me.
Her voice cracked and a tear shone in her eye.
And all I could do for a long time
Was ask, "Why, oh why, did he die?"


His death had shattered a dream,
A dream that could never be mended.
It was killed along with him in that car
When his precious life was ended.


And so, death claimed my dear sister's boyfriend,
And with him a part of her, too.
Yes death is cruel and unrelenting.
This fact I now know to be true.


That experience was, without question, a watershed for me. I've often wondered why it affected me as profoundly as it did. I suspect it was the fact that the loss came so suddenly and without warning. That's a harsh lesson to learn at that age -- maybe at any age.  And knowing -- feeling -- the pain it caused my sister. It was a soul crushing thing, and, in truth, it affected my whole family -- my grandmother, my parents, my siblings.  After, we were simply...different.  Wounded, saddened, but closer and stronger in some ways -- like a tree that has survived a damaging blow and found a way to grow over and around it.


Though it did heal over time, that wound that has never been forgotten, and each year, as Summer says goodbye and October approaches, I feel a certain sense of foreboding.  Is that simply superstition? I'm not sure.  Logical or no, October since then has always been about love and loss to me.  It was in October, a couple years later, that I met a boy to whom I would forever lose my heart, and about whom, there would always be a sense of missed opportunities and might-have-beens.  It was in October, several years after that, that I began dating my (now ex) husband.  (And for all the good that came of that -- most notably, the amazingly wonderful Riley -- there later came the undeniable loss of divorce.)  It was in October that we lost his dear sister when she was far too young to leave us.  It was in October, a year ago, that I encountered yet another loss -- one which, in retrospect, ought not to have seemed quite so devastating, but given its suddenness and circumstances, nevertheless knocked me utterly flat.


So, here we are once again in October. The Cardinals are in the World Series, and there is much for which to be thankful -- even joyful. But it is, indeed, bittersweet.  I have several friends who've recently lost loved ones, and others with loved ones who are gravely ill. And there's a chill in the air that I can't quite chase away. For all the beauty this time of year can hold, to me, October will always be a reminder of love and lives lost.