Coastal Musings

So last week I took a vacation. It was unexpected just how much I needed this break from our own reality. Even more unexpected how with 15 people to please, serve, feed and keep happy - somehow the whole affair went off without a hitch, thanks in large part to our wonderful, peace-keeping hosts.

There I was in the midst of a married-in family, one Jorgensen in a sea of Wildsmiths, happy, calm, at peace and finding myself falling back in love with the run. Daily, we would get up, put on our shoes and head off to some amazingly, impossibly beautiful trail or ocean run, a long line of ages, shapes and personalities - wandering through the beauty together.  It was a powerful reminder of just how essential it is to get out the door, one foot in front of the other, and move.   

Making it happen

The rabbit hole

Down there with little clue how to get out, an unexpected lifeline came my way. It was exactly what I didn't know I needed, and on that rope I found 5 solid days of running in a weeks time, as well as a beautiful glimpse at joy and a handful of genuine smiles. I'll take it.

And here I am at midnight on an airplane, heading off to a new family thanksgiving. My 2nd without the life force of Nana. And this year, for the first time, I am looking forward to forging new traditions and new paths. Thank you running. Keep up the good work!

The Bust of 2012

I miss feeling. I miss writing. I miss running. I miss consistency and routine. The fits and starts that began the year never materialized into a movement. And here I am halfway through November with little calendar completion and even less words. I suppose - what I did not count on or understand or read about - was that after the numbness wears off, the depression digs its heels into you, spotlighting with 20/20 clarity the understanding that life will never be the same again. Your emotions begin to play tricks with time and context. It is as if I did not want to get on with my life, as if I was intentionally squatting on my own dreams and future because I was very unwilling to give up my mother. 

I found myself, unbeknownst to myself, unwilling to move, knowing that each single step forward would be moments in life that my mother would not see. For months I would stop and start -  just a tiny toe into the new motherless world, but the pain seared through me. It was too intense; so I retreated. After all the suffering, the years of abuse my mother’s body went through as the disgusting disease ravaged her insides, I still just wished she were here.  And it all sounds like platitudes and common moments, no more special than anyone’s, but it honestly felt as if no one had ever gone through this particular hellish pain. 

All the while I was casting myself in stone - preserving the life - the only life I had ever known.  Right down to the very core of my being, I was not moving on. I picked up dozens of books only to make it 2 pages in. I started numerous projects only to abandon them within days. Sleep left me by even larger degrees, and I stopped - just stopped - being me. I stopped running consistently, living healthily, and loving with my whole self. I recoiled from the everyday to enter my own cocoon of self pity, angry at everyone who still had a breathing mother. I found myself terribly upset when encountering women over the age of 64, still alive while my once vibrant mother was swept away. Several times I remember thinking - I should be feeling this more - I should be taking this in and learning -  but I just couldn’t muster the energy to complete that sentence. 

Now here I am, waking up after the storm, wondering where the last 14 months have gone?  While going about the difficult task of developing the new context of my relationship to my Mom, letting go of the external one, I’m beginning to realize that it hurts to be pinched again. And here underneath the exhaustion, the anger, the depression echo the stirrings of a deeply determined ultra-marathoner - crawling her way back to relentless forward motion.

Hunger, Haribo & The Long Run

Being a vegetarian, albeit a less than stringent character, my healthy calories can sometimes be slightly harder to come by than digging into a dense steak dinner. As the mileage amps up during a training cycle I find myself constantly trying to catch up to my hunger needs. Healthy eating is important to me - it’s been a part of my life - almost my entire life - and while I VERY much enjoy the occasional bag of funyuns or handful too many of oreos, I’ve been a clean living sort as long as I can remember. Clean does not mean low fat. I eat cheese, butter, eggs, peanut butter, nuts by the large handful, granola, etc... But largely what goes in my mouth fits the standard definition of real food. So as the miles creep up and my calorie needs begin to multiply I run into the great food dilemma of a 1st world middle class life.... To powder and supplement with bars and gels or try to consume whole food for all my needs. I used to joke around with my brothers that my beer a night habit was calorie and carb loading in an all natural liquid way. But beer cannot really effectively be consumed on the long run, other than those rare marathon occasions when it’s super warm and the frat boys are out in force with their coors light and smiles. (Yes, my brothers and I did share a warm, crappy beer at mile 22 of last years St. Louis Marathon). And quite honestly I don’t have time to concoct organic home recipes for on the go running, so I do, often, find myself forking over cash for gooey food-like substances.

So far in this new training cycle I haven’t run long or far enough to justify a fuel on the run carry along, until this past Sunday that is. I knew I had a long run, 20 or so miles, on the schedule, yet I had forgotten to address the fueling issue until late Saturday night. In a pinch I ran over to Walgreens and purchased a bag of Haribo Gummy Bears. These candies are a childhood favorite of mine. I vividly remember my first time with these chewy, sweet confections. I was 8 years old and my family went to a German Fair. There was music, games, dancing, fun of all sorts, but the highlight of my trip came from a little booth giving away free samples of these treats. I savored my tiny little bag of gummy bears for three days, popping one in my mouth at a time. I thought they were the best things I had ever tasted. I simply couldn’t believe how good they were, and I wanted to delight in them as long as I possibly could. Since that time I have harbored a love of the gummy bear. I certainly never anticipated that love crossing over to my fitness needs.

Yet on Sunday morning, I popped open the bag, threw a handful into a smaller plastic bag, laced up my shoes and headed out for a beautiful, long run. An hour or so into the run, I tossed half of the gummy bears in my mouth, filled my belly with a few swigs of water and continued on the path. While not the same jolt of energy from an accel gel or gu, the gummy bears did their job and kept me from crashing. After my 2nd hour running I polished off the small bag of gummy bears and made it back to my front door with energy to spare. I’m not sure if it is the increased fitness from several weeks training or the magic of the black forest delight - either way my week ended on a high note with an easier than expected first crack at a long run, and gave me some hope that I can get back to form for this season! Looking forward to building on this confidence and energy for the next few weeks.

Miles Run: 50 +2 hours yoga

The True Adventures of an Incredibly Average Runner

There is a saying in Tibetan that “at the door of the miserable rich man sleeps the contented beggar.” The point of this saying is not that poverty is a virtue, but that happiness does not come from wealth, but from setting limits to one’s desires, and living within those limits with satisfaction. The saying rattled around my noggin all week long during my first structured training week in over a year. When you’ve been out of the game for such a while - it is hard to jump right back in, address your weaknesses head on and realize that you are not as fast, as fit, as spiffy as you once were. One of my frustrations last year came not only from the physical illness, surgery, recovery, the emotional exhaustion of death, but also from the unrealistic expectations placed on myself in the midst of all of the crazy. I lost sight of the process. I just wanted to be there already - to be as good as I possibly could, if on the best day I was as fit as I’ve ever been. And even then - if that were the case - I would still be telling you the tales of an incredibly average, at best, state-ranked runner.

I’m not great. I’ll never be on the olympic team, nor could I even set my feet on the starting line of the trials. But I can stand next to those running giants, and that is one of the reasons I love this sport so much. I pound the pavement behind the best in the sport - directly behind them. I step over their sweat and spit and cross the same finish line they do. How many athletes get to shadow the best of the best? If you love baseball, but don’t have the skill to make it in Yankee stadium, the closest you get is a seat on the sideline. For us runners, we get to stand toe to toe with those who are at the peak of the sport. We get to stand in the same arena, go through the same journey. This is one of the beauties and wonders of running. And while it’s certainly important to set goals - and to have “stretch” goals in your peripheral vision - we must be happy with the process. We should revel in the fact that we are here at all, that we are moving, pushing, learning and growing right along with the greats. And my incredibly average-ness doesn’t matter, it’s the goals set, the structure and life they give me that moves me along. Setting those goals, being realistic about my own limitations, physically, time wise, etc.. is a productive first step in being satisfied within the limits.

In that mindset I began the week, full of anticipation and ready to take the dive. And I did. And it wasn’t so bad after all. I forgot how much I love a plan. The structure, the pressure, the insistence that you can’t get better if you don’t try. 1 week down - 13 more to go before challenge #1 of 2012.

Miles run 44 + 1.5 hour yoga

The Reckoning

We knew death was coming. We watched it for almost 7 years, peeking through the glass, dipping it’s toes in the bath, hiding in the closet. We knew it was losing patience with my mom’s desire to stay here, with us, as long as she could, and yet when it finally came, when we saw it open the door and enter the room, when we stared it in the face we couldn’t help but be shocked that it does actually exist - that it will take away from you the breath of the one you love most.

Have you seen death? Have you watched the shallow breathing of a loved one slowly subside, seen the last life breath, felt the skin, still warm to the touch start to cool, watched the veins turn purple, the skin white and glistening, the body growing rigid - difficult to walk away, to say goodbye. It changes you. It shifts your insides around, forces reflection in serious and uncomfortable ways and pushes you to the brink of exhaustion, depression, emotion....

It’s been almost 6 months, and not an hour of the day goes by where I am not still profoundly saddened by this loss, by my lack of peace in her not being here, present, in this life, surrounding me with her love, her encouragement, her way of grace. When you lose your mother, when you become an orphaned adult, you lose the context of your life, the keeper of your memories, the place holder of the one person who knows you from the tiniest formation to the fully realized you. And moving through this grief does not happen quickly, does not happen in a linear form, and is NOT something you can check off the list and move on to the next. I am learning, just now, to live WITH this loss and not let the loss be what defines my movements and moments. I am progressing. It is slow. It is painful, but it is real and honest and the only way my mother would want it to be. Of that much I am certain.

And as a new year comes crashing into the calendar, my first year without a mother, I am ready to look into it, put my big girl shoes on and start moving forward - Relentless Forward Motion.... Toward that end - I’ve tacked up a training plan, signed onto a social networking site for runners, told everyone around me my goals and desires for my 2012 running year and re-dedicated myself, to myself: to the movement, the relentless forward motion, the breathing in & out, pounding, sweating, heart pulsing joy that is running. I’m smiling again - in bits and pieces - and hoping that this essential piece of my life ushers me through and onto the closure stage of grief - so that I can begin to honor my mother with true joy and reflection and understand this cycle we call life. My focus is on building a solid mileage base in order to really succeed at the Ultra Distance in the way my body is capable.

February 25: Cowtown Half Marathon - Ft. Worth, Tx
March 11: Quivering Quads Trail Half Marathon - Troy Missouri
April 15: Go St. Louis Marathon - St. Louis, Mo
May 31: Soldier Field 10 mile - Chicago, Il
August 25: Lean Horse 100 mile!!!!! - Hot Spring, SD (Top 3 overall finish)
October 21: Rock-N-Roll St. Louis Marathon - St. Louis, Mo
November 16: JFK 50 mile Boonsboro, MD (Top 10 overall finish)

Endurance Training 2012 begins now. Follow me as I train and race my way through the year!

Grief Sucks

Sometimes, now that the numbness has finally left the building and the deeper understanding regarding the permanence of loss is here, I hurt so much I have to squat down or double over. These moments come out of nowhere; unexpected, unprovoked, unaware I go - and the choice becomes - do I push it down, swallow hard and soldier on? Or do I stop in my tracks and watch it happen, let it happen, wash over, around, above, underneath, all around me? It’s difficult. At home when I feel the pang of lonliness come over me I can justifiably sit down and allow it, but at the drug store in the cough medicine aisle? When a memory so strong hits me that I literally feel the wind knock away? What then? Or at the airport - quietly reading and listening to music when I am struck by the powerful knowledge that I will never touch my mothers hand again, never see her smiling small self on the couch, never hear I love you from the one person who has known me longest & loved me deepest? How do you “move through” this shit? How do you ever get to the other side - to the peace of mind and understanding that loss will continue coming, not just once but many times over - the longer I stand on my own two feet.

Running is helping. Running, deep breathing, rhythmic pounding clears my mind, pinpoints my focus, produces in me a “comfortable pain” that I am used to, like going home again, as close to my mothers arms as possible. And for this one pure act of mirroring physical and emotional self I am thankful. All the better that I have a partner in this long run.

Yes, I’m still running. Yes, the 50 mile race is 5 weeks away and nothing, nothing, nothing will stop me from being there on that starting line, breathing in the cool fall Appalachian air. It will - It will - It will be further progress, further movement and hopefully a celebration of being alive and being able to do just this much.

Why Don't You?

So I missed my first 100 mile race - I suppose if you never get there - it isn’t missed right? Anyhow, I had to refocus, something I am slowly beginning to tackle. Some days still knock me out and send me crawling back to bed, but last week I almost had 2 good days in a row. I’ll take it. I’ll take what, if anything, I can get in the way of joy and progress in this still acute phase of grief.

I asked Conrad last week, “How are we going to get through this 50 mile race if I can’t even manage to string 2 days of running together?”

His response, “Sheer will this time around I think Kristen. Nothing but determination and stubbornness.”

Humph I thought... Then I thought some more about it. I know that for me goal setting has been tantamount to signing up for the races and completing the intense training, but it hasn’t and never will be an integral part of the running experience. In my world, running and racing are two separate entities which have very little to do with each other. I’ve almost always loved running: the feel of my feet pounding the ground, the sweat pooling in the crevice above my elbow, the slight burning in the lungs, the sun on my skin. I can go anywhere I want on a run. And often I do. I meditate, I move, and I absolutely love being alive - having the blessing and the gift of movement.

Racing - well that is something completely different. It’s an exhausting, nerve wracking, intensity that I place on myself for months at a time. I count my calories (making sure to eat enough), my liquid intake, my steps, my miles down to the tenth, my sleep, etc... I’ve never gone into a race unprepared - minus the Cowtown half that I signed up for on a whim 16 hours before the event and while still in full recovery from major surgery mode - and as such - I’m always abundantly prepared and largely lucky in ways of weather which have helped me reach almost every goal I’ve set. It takes a certain amount of focus and a tremendous amount of dedication & discipline to consistently reach for those goals and continue hitting them. It’s the yang to the ying of my peaceful, intuitive, instinctual runs.

Knowing that there is very little chance of me finishing this year’s JFK in top form, or at the top of the women’s leader board as my initial goal, I had a moment of weakness wanting to quit the whole running business. But then I came to my senses and started placing these moments and ideas and goals in perspective.

How about I just finish the race as a goal? How about I just get to the start line and see how I do? And in the meantime throw out the training plan with it’s 20+ hours of intense training a week - just get up and go - just run -until I am tired, I am weak, I am sick and I can run no more. Run when it’s nice, run when I want to, maybe 2 or 3 times a day if I feel like it. Work on my spirit, be mindful, continue to discipline the mind with meditation & yoga and just be thankful that I can get my ass out of bed every morning. Be thankful that I have an adoring family and a compassionate husband and child who hold my hands when I don’t know they need holding and care for me in ways I never knew possible. Be happy with the end, be happy with the means, work to get through all the in-betweens with an occasional smile and continue to run. I love running. I love being at one with my breath and my physical self - pushing my limitations and seeing where it takes me. Chained by the idea of a time goal or a place goal, I think I’ve forgotten the true nature of the run, the race, the event is simply to exist, to be, to breath and to finish with a peace.

That said, sometime soon I am looking forward to throwing my all into training again, into a time goal or a place goal, when I have fully healed from this most difficult of events. Until then - I will be easier on myself, easier on my body and understand that I am happy to just put the shoes on and get out the door. It’s time to fall in love with running again.

Miles run - 60+ Consistent Yoga, Biking & Meditations 5+hours

Bringing me to my knees

I've run in rainstorms, in hailstorms, through snowstorms, in the middle of the night, in the predawn winter beauty, with torn knee ligaments, a broken foot, way too soon after major surgeries, through illness, in the middle of chaos, on my days off, on my vacations. Regardless of life's caution tape - I've run - always, daily - meditations and ruminations of physicality. Until this July, when first overwhelming stress and then grief knocked me a one two punch I didn't know capable of withstanding. I'm nowhere near the day by day credo, still managing simply moment to moment. But last week I ran, for the first time in almost 6 weeks. I ran twice. It was difficult. It was painful. It felt as if I were returning home after a long, exhaustive, much delayed journey. I have to start somewhere. Let the new method of life: one full of conscientious listening, mindful understanding & quiet daily running begin. For you mother, I vow to keep my body as clean and free and full of life and movement as I can. My 50 mile training starts today - and I will carry you with me through each step.

RIP Sweet Brenda Ann Rice Jorgensen - 2/20/47-7/27/11
Nana's Eulogy:

My mother was the blueprint of a woman etched in full form. Her relentless passion for her family and faith guided her every breath. She took the job of motherhood with a tremendous degree of seriousness and gave us, all three children, more than enough love to share with our own family. And when we grew up, got married and had families of our own - they simply became extensions of her own immediate family. And the love she had to give, somehow found in her reserves, was just as relentless and just as passionate for Conrad, Jody & Alli as if they were her own blood. Forget about the grandkids - Those boys made my mom's heart melt every time they walked into the room. She understood her role as grandmother in the most essential of ways and cherished her rowdy crew with a heart full of pure love.

Her strength in living each day was fierce and profound. The core of her being, the fibers that made up her soul seemed somehow stronger than the rest of us. A woman who could not be rattled, whether through birthing all three of her children on her own, in strange cities without family and friends around, to carting surly pre-teens around all through springtime sans Pops, as he was providing for our family, to her illness - which she never let define her, not even in her death. Once my mother found out and processed this Ovarian Cancer thing, she took it not as a sentence but as a gift of renewed life and began training for a half marathon. Her strength in living going hand in hand with her passion in loving.

But the thing I will remember most, and miss most, about my mom was her selfless nature. This was a woman who always, always, always put others first - no matter the cost. Even in dying she took my hand, when I was crying for her, and said to me, "I know dear. I lost my mother too early as well. It's going to be hard, and you are going to miss me, but you will get through this. I wish you didn't have to go through this, but you will be ok."

As I learn how to construct my world without this essential person in it, I will willingly carry this sadness with me, taking her spirit and her teachings and her guidance with me in every moment. It is my deepest wish that her relentless passion and strength in living and selflessness become larger parts of the woman that I am. But for now, my sweet mama, I breathe sanctity in this family and you my peace. Thank you for me.

JFK 50

This morning we received our official entry letters for the JFK 50 miles! I'm thrilled to be participating in this historic distance event again this year, and am looking forward to the goal of chopping hour or so from our last effort.

Many of you know the difficult, exhausting experience our family has been immersed in these last few weeks. It's been an intense roller-coaster of a time - but our one constant remains running. And although the time to write, mentally reminisce and wander about this great effort has all but ceased, the running, while much less than the 90+ miles a week scheduled, has continued. 10pm running, clearing out the mental minutia of the day, has been a necessary gift of time.

So we continue on, pumping our arms, pounding our feet & sweating through it. Until next time.

Miles Run - 100

Finding Strength in Weakness

35 miles - not even halfway to 100 - and the distance nearly finished me off yesterday. We were starting later than I would’ve liked, due to my inability to get out of bed when the alarm went off. I stood up, looked out the window, looked at Conrad and said,” I can’t move. I’ve got to go back to bed for an hour.” So I promptly did. Upon my next wake up, 7:45 am, I did manage to get myself out of bed and downstairs for a cup of morning joe to try and pry my eyes open. Unfortunately, my stomach was feeling a bit unsettled, and the coffee just kick-started a terrible, rumbly gut. Ignoring the discomfort, I only have 8 weeks left to get these long miles in after all, I traipsed upstairs, dressed myself in the lightest, loosest fitting running gear I could find and talked myself into feeling “great”. We packed our fuel belts full of gummy bears, pretzels, mints, granola bars & tylenol, filled our water bottles and moved out the front door.

It was warm. It was humid, but it wasn’t too sunny yet. I felt ok at the get go, but then my fuel belt kept hitting my stomach, right where it was cramping the worst, and I couldn’t get into a rhythm. I think I spent the first 7 miles fiddling with the belt, moving it up, moving it down, tightening it, loosening it, just trying to feel better. Of course, it wasn’t really the belt that was the problem. It was my ever growing stomach ache. Conrad woke up and felt great, and as the run progressed, he continued to feel better and better. While it’s wonderful to have someone at your side for these long excursions, and it’s also wonderful to have someone help you along when you feel awful, it’s difficult to feel like you are being an anchor. I haven’t seen Conrad feel this sprightly on a long run for quite a while - and it doubled my frustration at my own weakness.

Once we got through downtown and onto the MRT trail, I was in pretty bad shape. About an hour and a half or so into the run - I had to stop, go off the trail and try to clear out my belly. I squatted right into a hive of bees - not my day. Upon returning to the trail I did feel a bit better and tried to fuel myself with some gum drops. We made it almost another hour before I really started to fail. All my systems were just shutting down. I was dehydrated from the heat, humidity and stomach issues - and my legs were just wiped out. To add to this, our turnaround point on the trail is this little park, complete with a water fountain for us to fill our water bottles. When we got to the park, however, there was NO WATER. That meant another hour, at least, until the next working water fountain. It was really more of a mental blow than anything. I tried my best not to tear up as I was already dehydrated, feeling quite sick & now we were almost 20 miles away from home. There was nothing to do but turn around and get there.

My spirits sank further and further - but Conrad did his best to keep the mood light. I again had to leave the trail to empty out my stomach, and this time I managed to find a place free of bees, but full of chiggers - not my day. Once we got moving again, I would have to take long walking episodes. I felt terribly for Conrad, who was joyful despite this agonizingly slow pace. At 4 hours we hit a water fountain, and we were both so thirsty that we drank 20oz on the spot, and then filled our bottles back up again for another 20oz. We realized that the water was a grey/green - but we really had no choice, as the thermometer was tipping close to 90 and the sun was in full blaze by that point. The rest of the run was a blur of frustration, pain, exhaustion and doubt. Even 1 mile from home I wasn’t sure if I would make it without having to stop for a long rest. Yet throughout this whole struggle - I was thankful to have the experience. I learned more about my drive, my determination, my physical strength in the face of adversity - as well as a few practical matters for 100 mile heat training, like taking the sunscreen with you and re-applying every hour so as to avoid the burn Conrad & I are sporting today.

I’m not sore. I am tired, but I do feel recovered and ready to run tomorrow. Hopefully this upcoming weekend’s run, we’ll be adding 6-8 miles to the distance, will fare much better - and I’ll be healthy from the start. I can say with authority that this run is the hardest run I have ever had, by far the worst run I’ve ever been on - and still I can’t wait to tackle the long run again next weekend. Some people might think that’s crazy, but I liken it to progress - relentless forward motion. It’s all going up from here!

Miles Run: 55 +1hour biking +2hours yoga

That's why they call it "The Wall"

Week of Jun 6-12
Last week was my 2nd successful week of running in 2011. Going into a marathon normally, I’ve built up a good base, worked though some serious speed work, upped the ante on my endurance training with 8-12 weeks of 70+ miles and had a 2 fairly quiet weeks leading up the event. Saturday’s marathon was an anomaly in my distance “racing” (term used loosely). I hadn’t been able to string together more than 2 days of successful running since surgery. I began running mid-Feb and struggled mightily. I continued on in the hopes that I would wake up one day and just feel better - but getting more and more discouraged with each failed run. Honestly, I was at the point, 3 weeks ago, where I was ready to wipe the racing calendar clean and just take running off the table for a spell. And then 2 weeks ago, I had a good run - 3 solid hours of feeling my feet hit the ground that felt not just good but great. It wasn’t speedy, but it was zen. I had no plan of action, no course pre-arranged. I just went, and as the miles kept ticking off I felt better and better. Somewhere in those moments, running down Jefferson Avenue, I committed myself back to running, to training with purpose and to reaching beyond my current limits. In this wheelhouse was the Indy Marathon Championship weekend, a race that had been booked on the calendar for months, but one I had all but given up hope of actually doing. I was concerned that I just didn’t have the miles on my legs, and that I wouldn’t actually be able to complete the distance without doing some major mental and physical damage to my body.

It was low key affair, no nerves, no butterflies, no expectations other than to cross the finish line and do my best to negative split the race. I surprised myself by feeling pretty great for 24 miles. I went out, very conservatively for the first 10 and then began trying to steadily increase my speed. I was doing a wonderful job of this. Mile 24 was a nice, comfortable 7:11 & then came the mile 25 marker: 16:44! Perhaps the slowest mile I have ever run in any sort of race. I HAVE NEVER - EVER hit the wall like that.  And honestly just 2 seconds before I was getting quite excited that I had "paced myself" appropriately and wasn't going to have any bonk miles. I was actually RUNNING, not walking at that pace. I am thankful the race was 26.2, as I’m honestly not sure I would have made another 10 steps. I did make it though and recovered quickly. For me it was a case of not fueling appropriately, being dehydrated and seriously under-trained to tackle a marathon with any sort of speed. But in this race I learned even more about my body, my mind & my limits. So I consider it a huge success and a great jumping off to my 100 mile training. Let the 40+ mile runs begin.

Mile Run: 48 + 2 hours yoga + 1 hour bike

Thinking About Goals

I didn’t post on Monday, but I did have another successful, albeit hot & steamy, running week. I am finally truly feeling fit - not fast, not loaded with endurance - but fit. My base is back baby! My runs are no longer fitful excursions of self doubt and frustration. They are moving back to peace. This weekend Conrad & I will be traveling to Indiana for a marathon, great research to see how much work needs to be done in order to catch the 100 mile goal I’m seeking. What is that goal? Well, there is a culture in 100 mile races surrounding the Belt Buckle. Finish your 100 mile jaunt in under a day - you get a shiny belt buckle for your effort. Sounds bizarre to anyone outside of this extreme endurance mindset - I realize - but I can’t wait to hold that piece of metal in my exhausted hands. I’d also very much like to finish in the top 3 overall. Having never run more than 50 miles, who knows if my body will support that goal. I will certainly be dedicating my mental and physical self to this pursuit in earnest for these next 11 weeks, and as the date draws closer, be able to flesh out the target. Until then I’m hoping to build on the base now established and work on the mental challenges of running without sleep.

Miles Run: 40ish (down with the stomach flu several days last week...)

Big E Hands Me the Key

The week started rough with a Monday morning run that left me in tears. I struggled every single step of those 10 miles, talking myself out of training. I decided I would be happy “taking it easy” for the rest of the year and giving up the 100 mile goal. I limped home, showered, napped and put the idea of running on the back shelf for 24 hours. After coaxing myself through a miserable run for the umpteenth time I decided on a cocktail prescription of rest, relaxation and finding the pleasure of putting one foot in front of the other. Speedwork has never been enjoyable for me. It did not fit in my new plan. I did, however, have to accompany Eric to the track on Tuesday evening, consciously slipping on some flip flops just as my brother texted that he would be joining us. I don’t get to run with my brothers very often, and I really appreciate the time with them so I grabbed my running shoes, just in case.. After a warm-up jog of 800 - we were hanging on the track chatting when Ben said - GO - and Eric put a friendly wager of beer down for the winner of the workout. That was a perfect pill for my running woes. I needed to make running a “game” in order to switch my mental focus. And while I lost 4 tasty brews that evening, I got my swagger back, sailing through the rest of the week with comfort, polishing it off with a solid 3.5 hour Sunday morning run. I am happy with this progress and thankful to my brother & Big River for helping me shake off the dust, unlock the mind and shift the focus from struggle and stress to fun, fun, fun…. I plan on keeping that in my rear-view mirror for these next two weeks to see where it takes me.

Miles run 63 + 3 hours of yoga

Short and Sour

Yesterday, just as I sat down to write this post, a quick storm pushed through the area with stong winds ripping down power lines in our backyard and taking out our power for 24 hours. I put my computer away, called the power company and spent the afternoon cleaning up the debris. Today, as I am short on writing time, I will keep this brief. Last week I ran only 4 days. It's still very hard, and I am not enjoying myself - save the one 8 mile run I had with Conrad. I'm struggling everyday and getting more and more frustrated with each passing mile. Running for me, outside of pushing myself in races & speed sessions, has been a respite from struggle, my peace of mind. I don't want to dwell or complain about my current lack of fitness though - so until next week.

Miles Run 34 + 3 hours yoga

This Week is My Week

The truth is I have been saying this for 6 weeks now. After a generally disappointing running week and a struggling Sunday long run I mope around and placate myself with the sentiment: Tomorrow you will start the week off right, run everyday, feel good, and truly progress. That has yet to materialize. I’ve had maybe 4 good runs in 2011, and while I do feel physically recovered from the surgery - I still am lacking in energy and drive. I am having lots of issues with my HRT, memory issues, sleep issues, hot flashes and exhaustion to name a few. Most days I wake up and feel as if I have a mild flu. And it’s one of the first times in my life I have not been able to MIND OVER MATTER the exhaustion. I’m certain it won’t last forever, but I am losing patience with the process and just want to feel “normal” once again. It’s like playing the lottery everyday that I slip my running shoes on - not knowing if I will make the run at all, much less without having to walk a portion of it. Last Tuesday was the first time in months I have given speed a try, and I did mildly better than I anticipated. I was able to maintain a 10K race pace of 6:40 a mile for 8 laps around the track. It did lift my spirits some but the struggle continues. Right now I’m in the weeds and can’t imagine running 100 miles in 3.5 months. I just have to trust that the years of miles on my legs and my stubborn spirit will start to come in handy as the weeks progress.

Miles run: 30(ish), 0 miles biking (waiting for clearance to ride a bike), 2 hours of yoga, 0 miles swimming - ahhh...

Surgery, Recovery & Relentless Forward Motion....

The blog died out 2 months before the 50 mile race - which is a shame.  Things got busy, and I just didn’t have time to journal and edit.  I DID the 50 mile run on November 19, 2010. It was a transformative experience.  I loved it - loved it so much I have committed to running double the distance at the end of August in South Dakota.  I’m hoping to journal this experience, this time keeping up - even if life bears down uncontrollably hard.  I have snippets of writing here and there leading up to the big 50 mile occasion, and I will do my best to form it into some sort of coherent essay.  In the meantime what has been going on with me?

Well - I had my cancer eradicating surgery on December 17, 2010 and was expecting a swift and relatively painless recovery. That did NOT happen.  I had several setbacks, major amounts of exhaustion, and a good deal of pain for many weeks.  At 8 weeks out I finally felt comfortable enough to try a run.  It sucked big time, but I kept moving. 1 week later I ran a half marathon in Ft. Worth.  It was my slowest time ever, @ 2hours even I came in - 25 minutes slower than my last half 6 months prior - but I was ecstatic to cross the line and realize that I had a fighting chance to get back to fitness.
 
My first true long run in 2011 happened just over a month ago at the Go St. Louis Marathon with my brothers - my first real steps back to running form:
Games were a big deal in my house growing up - card games, board games, atari and nintendo games were essential pieces of our childhood life, but nothing took up more space in our world than the physical games we played - both on our sport teams and in our own house. We had pick up basketball games & wiffle ball in the backyard and our own version of indoor soccer in our living and dining room (Thanks Mom!). No one was a bigger participant in this game playing than my Pops, whose excessive creativity spilled over into all things games. He would make up intricate and involved games for us and willingly participate in the fun. I grew up in an extremely physical house, in a flurry of constant activity. I love sports - I love games - I spent most of my young life playing team sports, having a group around me to consistently push me to the next level and make me work hard even when I just wanted to be lazy. The comradarie of sports is something I miss. As a long distance runner it’s you and the pavement, a totally different kind of intensity. So having the chance to run with both of my brothers - it felt like old times - playing games, gathering strength from one another, and despite the heat and the hills, having some serious fun! Although the marathon was thrown a weather curveball for the 2nd year in a row I was still smiling from ear to ear as I realized for the first time since December, that I really am capable of the long run again! Families really do ROC.

Since that Sunday I have struggled with my running, trying very hard to take it easy, build on what I am starting, and gain a tiny bit of my speed back each week.  It’s not easy, it’s not even very fun, but I realize I have to be patient - start slowly - and trust in the training. It's in me - it's there rattling around somewhere, and I'm not giving up on it just yet!

Early to Rise

I love my weekends. I love them! The sleeping in, the quiet morning, the lingering cup of joe, having my boys beside me - just relaxing and considering the possibilities…. Even with a relatively rigorous running and x-training schedule I’ve managed to keep my weekends relatively peaceful and sleep centered. This weekend, however, we set our alarms for a very early Saturday morning wake-up to watch my brother participate in a triathlon, something he particularly loves doing. It’s the first time we’ve had the chance to see him in one, and it was wonderful. The weather cooperated, the whole family came out in force, and Eric did better than he anticipated. It certainly raised my desire to finally tackle that beast (best left to another year).

The dawn waking Saturday hijinks made the idea of an early rise on Sunday entirely unappealing. I really wanted one nice long morning rest - but I knew in order to get my 22 mile run in with our current heat and humidity that I had to be out the door early. I had NO desire to run. When the alarm rang I turned it off and just laid there talking myself out of the whole affair. I honestly don’t think I would’ve climbed out of bed if it weren’t for the smell of coffee (merci Conrad!). I felt exhausted, I didn’t have the proper fuel to take with me, and I didn’t really have time for breakfast if I expected to beat the heat. So as I was pulling on my shoes I made a pact with myself that I would just get to the 2nd water fountain in the park and try again Monday morning for 22. I had no real plan to seal the deal. And I think, for me anyhow, that’s when my best runs happen. Those times when I set out with no real expectations always end up being the runs I feel like I could go on forever. I went out the door and rolled through 22 miles with relative ease. It’s a great sign that my training is paying off in giant endurance dividends, and that despite my poor choice in nutrition for the morning I’m doing a good job taking care of my fuel tank in the long term. It’s exciting to see my body respond on little sleep and a stressful week - but I also know that it’s really important to rest and let my body repair. That balance is tricky, as I feel myself getting fitter I want to push a little more, test the boundary just a tad, but I’ve got 7 weeks until Chicago and 12 until the big event of 50 miles so I’m working on my patience and my restraint.

Miles Run: 62 + 1 hour swimming +1 hour biking +1.5 hour resistance/yoga

Down time

It’s been one of those weeks where I just couldn’t catch up to sleep. It continually played chase with me and won. Luckily it is my down running week and oddly enough the only time I felt good was during my runs. In fact I felt great. My easy week really was easy. Things are finally coming together for me, and although I don’t think I’ll hit a PR with this Chicago Marathon, I am finally truly feeling fit and ready to go. This heat, this extended vacation time, this life…. It’s all been killer. But last week I started to feel better, things got easier - so much so that I had to shave about 30 seconds off my speedwork and base pace times. And this week the trend continued. On Wednesday, my anaerobic day, I added almost an extra mile of speedwork to the run, and my cooldown mile was @ 7:20 (not my cooldown pace…) It’s funny because my body is tired, my mind is a little weary, but once the running shoes are on I feel invincible. Hopefully this burst of running energy is a sign that I am getting fitter and maybe even that speed is starting to make an appearance. I’m not worried about my endurance, I know I’ve got that in the bag - but the fast part, well it’s been a struggle this summer. The 80’s are set to return this week and perhaps that will help me along even more.

Miles run: a delightful 50 + 1.5 hour resistance + 1 hour biking