Pushing My Limits

Today marks the end of my summer hiatus from blogging.

My break was much needed, July nearly sent me to the loony bin, and just reaffirmed what I already knew: I REALLY need my laptop back, erm, to write.  :-D Often.  And with purpose.  More on that later.

In the meantime, I began to acquire a case of runner's doldrums mid-July.  Oh, I still went, and regularly enough, but that carrot of a yet-to-be-accomplished goal was lacking ever since my feet crossed that strip in Folsom Field.  Without a concrete goal, and the very-vague-yet-unconstrained-by-culturally-dictated-shapes-or-sizes aim of being a 'fit mama,' while noble, is sort of like telling a toddler to 'be nice' when really they need to quit biting every damned person they feel like, I just didn't have enough to inspire the runs for which my legs began to yearn.

I mean, have you met me?  Girl likes a challenge, and by challenge I mean, 'those feats which redefine impossible.' Pretty much anyway.  Oh and btw a perfect theme song for this is Natasha Bedingfield's Unwritten, since we are being all literary and redefining and all that....or, it is just a great dose of positivity.  You're welcome!

Anyway....so I had some chats with God about this - as some of you may know my whole running journey began as a desire for me to reflect the healing and other works He has done/is doing in my life - and asked Him, "What's next?  Because this is great and all, but it's not as dramatic as what you've done for me.  How can I even begin to show them?  I mean, without going all divine being and walking on water like Jesus, ya know"

So on the fateful day of July 14th I found myself at the grocery checkout staring down the cover of the August Runner's World.  The chick on the cover had enviable tone, for sure, but my gaze locked in on the words just to the left of her middle:  BREAK 2 HOURS (or any time goal).  Ok, so my Boulder (10k/6.2mile) time was 1:16 and change, which broke down to a 12:17/mile average pace.  And a sub-2 hour marathon (21k/13.1miles) equates to roughly a 9:09/mile pace.

So there I was looking at the [im]possibility of doing more than double the distance in less than twice the allotted time?!?!  Sold!

I started my training on the 17th and have been sticking to it.  I'm not quite at the performance demanded by the training guidelines - i.e. I did week 1 twice since my first attempt at an 8 mile run was only slightly more than two-thirds successful, I have not quite made the 'easy,' 10:30 pace over distance my own yet (oh, but I will...I did a 10:31 pace last Tuesday, SOCLOSE!!!!), nor would I call it an 'easy' pace for me at this time.  But I am getting there.  So far I have pushed myself beyond what I thought I could with:

• my first time ever experiencing exercise-induced vomiting (during which all I could do was envision Biggest Loser montages)
• an 8:00 mile!!
• completing 8 miles, period, let alone at an 11:56 pace!!!

I don't have a half-marathon picked out/registered for yet, but there is a local on in November that I'm starting to see myself doing.

Turns out, I need direction in order to channel my energy.  Put another way, I need to be told what to do.  Heh, who'da thunk on that one, eh?

And, side bennie of running like a beast - my legs are starting to shape up (finally - I mean you'd think they'd have gotten the memo that we've been working HARD for OVER A YEAR by now!) and this 'fit mama' is starting to look the part as well as feel it!
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Coming down from that runner's high

I did it!!!!!!

It's been over a week now, but what a HIGH.  It has taken me awhile to come back down.

I ran (as in ran the WHOLE way - well, barring two little walk steps on the hill as we all narrowed up and crowded into the stadium right after the 6 mile marker, wherein I then said, "Self, uh, what the hay-ell Are.You.Doing???  You have not RUN this far in the HEAT to WALK any or all of the remaining .2 miles, so no no no, none of that!  Get you butt back to running," and so I re-commenced with a gait that was running-ish until the finish line) the Bolder Boulder.

It was crazy - as evidenced in this stunning eyewitness footage:

BTW....does the creepy dude in the bathrobe, on his stationary bike, at 3:58 - 4:14 remind you of the same guy I thought of? :shudders:

Anyway, the day was not without glitches - I mean, we are talking about ME here, right?  When was the last time everything sailed smoothly???

First, Seth's stopwatch and I were so poorly acquainted that I hit the wrong button to start so that when  I looked down at the first mile marker I saw a big, fat 00:00:00 staring right back at me.  So there I was, running, intermittently looking and fiddling at my wrist instead of keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead of me - which is just begging for disaster, but lo! the Lord's angels were with me and a human stampeding calamity was averted - when I figured out the right button to push and time started ticking away.  I figured that I would just add the start time to current time and voila! I'd have the total at the end.  I never thought that perhaps the Boulder clock and mine might perchance differ in opinion with each other (which they did, come to find out) and felt pretty good thinking that my first mile was in the 9 minute vicinity.

Then there was the issue of my thighs.  They're uh, pretty meaty still.  Particularly on the insides.  And they pretty much always touch.  This led me to the observation of two things.

1.)When you wear shorts to run in, as opposed to spandex, when dealing with this particular plight, well, you wind up with what looks like a sort of wedgie in the front as the insides of the thighs push your shorts higher and higher.  When you're running a race, even with the full knowledge that you will not win said race nor even your wave of the race, you don't have the time to constantly be pulling your shorts out of your crotch.  Which led to some fantabulous photos of one Ramblin Red, bib number GK544.  But hey, at least I wasn't wearing a RED UNITARD WITH A VERY OBVIOUS BLACK THONG underneath, right? All I could think was, "That's a guaranteed recipe for a hemorrhoid!"  I mean, one word: FRICTION!  Ouch.  Or a stripper-style German Barmaid costume.  I kid you not!  Because this is a race and I was properly attired in athletic garb, even if it malfunctioned slightly.

2.) While I'd trained for this day, I hadn't given much thought to the impact on my performance when the sweat would inevitably begin to seep into the heat rash that is ever present in the summer months due to said thigh rubbage affliction.  I pretty much tried to shower at every hose/sprinkler offered along the course to keep the stinging at minimum.

This is just the first mile too - you see where it was distracting?

After mile 1 I got into a groove and hung there. Until midway between 2 and 3 miles when the hill came, along with the blazing sun.  I slowed and got hot.  Then kicked back up again.  At the 5k marker I started to get all dejected, thinking, "I still have another HALF to go!"  And shortly thereafter was a church, whose congregants had a tent with Switchfoot playing, which was SUCH a Godsend to me.  I meditated alternately on Philippians 4:13 and my rather paraphrased and personalized version of the introductory lines of the 23rd Psalm, "The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not want.  He brings me to green pastures...called FOLSOM FIELD!"

And before I knew it, I was at mile 4, then 5.  And then began the ascent up that final hill, where I met with mile six.  My legs were rubber coated lead weights by then.  But I could SEE the stadium, and aside from that brief moment of self-sabotage, I was determined to finish.  Once I got into the stadium, and realized the finish line was not right inside the stadium, but 3/4 of a lap around the track, my heart sank a bit, but only momentarily.

And just like that it was over.

I'd crossed the line.  And slowed to a walk.

It didn't hit me until I'd walked up the stadium bleachers to the drink station at the top.  And whose bright idea is that anyway?  Sending people who are virtually drunk on endorphins - seriously, I felt as if I'd had 5 beers, ok, 3 as I'm a lightweight since I don't drink that much, and could hardly stand up straight - to navigate stadium steps with their elevation and weird half-step cadence and not a railing to be had to get water?!?! I got my water, and stretched my muscles, which were already stiffening, when I got the shakes.  Just like I'd had after each one of my babies were born, only with a fraction of the intensity.

And then the tears came.

And I lifted my eyes to the hills, those beautiful flatironed hills of Boulder, and hiccupping through the sobs, whispered, "My help comes from the LORD...my Deliverer, how much you've brought me through...thank you...thank you...thank you..."

My week after that was kind of a mixed bag.  Kind of like wowed meets "Now what?"  But I've decided that Monday wasn't the end-all for me, despite having been a destination goal.

Now that I've attained it, I say it is only the beginning.

I'm thinking if I could go from hospital bed to 5k in a mere 4 months, and double that in 7 months, there is no reason why I couldn't double it still and do a half-marathon next year.

For now, I've just been going when I can and loving it.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Penetrating Through the Shadows

Some people think that saying or writing the negative things we think just lends credence to irrational fears, giving them, the fears, the power to cripple oneself, sort of a reverse affirmation if you will.

And I used to agree with them.

But over the past year, so many fears and doubts have lurked in the back of my mind, all ambiguous and shadowy, intangible and so difficult to ascertain just what it is that is robbing my joy that I don't really know what I'm afraid of, just that there is a general sense of trepidation as mental bogeymen hedge about furtively in the depths of my soul.

They're just shadows, too, these bogeymen.

Some are completely warped, the sort that, in the room of a child who is afraid of the dark let's say, appear to be gremlins or hobgoblins and have the ability to not only paralyze a child with fear but also bring with them the gift of wakeful insomnia.  Given some time, explorations [often made by a loving parent], and a flip of the light-switch, these shadows are the ones that are eventually revealed as being the result of the neighbor's misshapen tree outside the bedroom window, blowing in a storm.  Nothing a rational person would fear.

Others may have a basis in reality, but are grossly exaggerated, as most actual shadows are.  For instance, my personal shadow, while based on my body, will at times - depending on the angle of the sun, time of day, etc. - illustrates me as having legs a mile long, with a teensy, tiny little head, and skinny arms that extend forever.  Clearly not a true picture of my actual form!

Anyways, sometimes identifying the shadows, speaking them and what you're feeling, is the first step to illumination and seeing them for what they really are.

[whew - this is turning into a lengthy preamble - who's still with me?]

All of this to say that yesterday, I went running for the first time since Thursday [on account of I had some knee pain last week and was trying to rest it a bit].  My knees felt great (Praise GOD!), I was feeling good, hit my mile right at 10:02 [which is not my fastest but is a good comfortable pace for me] and kept going.

Until about 1.5 miles.

Suddenly my legs were tight, my lungs constricting, my body burning with fatigue.  Out came the bogeymen, their shadowy appendages poking at my heart but never fully revealing themselves.  [in less flowery vernacular, and more concisely put - my stress level had a detrimental impact on my performance - but that is too simple and not rambly enough for this blog, eh?  Also?  You don't say? Stress can kill performance, well, how about that!]

So I walked.

But I didn't walk in defeat.  I was in tears, and some of the fears were really getting me.

You're not going to make it at Boulder.  All this hype, all this work for a YEAR and you are going to let your fears get you and paralyze you.

I cried out, like a child afraid of the dark, for my Father.  My Heavenly Father.  I begged Him to come into the dark, shadow-filled recesses of my mind and flood His light into the space - so that the cause of the shadows could be exposed, and I could see the hobgoblins for the trees they may have been.

I realized that as some of the fears shifted from the shadows into an actual form, that is a thought, that these thoughts were all in the 2nd person - YOU statements, not I statements.


And this is where I hesitate - as I always get self-conscious talking about spiritual warfare and "voices" having worked with people who audibly heard voices in their heads.  The need to disclaim "This is different," sits within me.

In the negative inner dialogs of my mind, I have plenty of I statements, more than I'd care to admit, so this is not just an observation of mental semantics, a rationalization made of split hairs.  No, as I realized this, I felt as if someone or something was feeding me these thoughts.

From the beginning of this journey, I have desired my running accomplishments to be a testament to God's redemptive work in my body, a way to open the door to talk about the greater works He has done in my whole life.  I didn't want the glory, but for God to have it, as He deserves it.  And yet, here was this voice, making it all about me, and what I could or couldn't do.

Meanwhile, my Father did as asked of Him and put His Word upon my heart: cliché as it may sound, scenes from David and Goliath flashed in my mind.

In regards to the voice of negativity, I was reminded of Saul telling David that he shouldn't even think of trying to take the giant down.  Also?  That I CAN run 6.2 miles, because I did it about a month ago.  And I will again, because I hadn't even made it for a full 3 miles before I ran my 5k.

Finally, regarding who gets credit - David's confidence in the Lord and words to Goliath just before he accomplished the most widely known TKO of history rang in my ears:

"... but I come to you in the name of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies—the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. Today the Lord will conquer you... and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel!  And everyone assembled here will know that the Lord rescues his people, but not with sword and spear. This is the Lord’s battle, and he will give you to us!”

There are half a dozen other bogeymen crouching in my mind's eye that I must shed some light on - so if I'm on the quiet side, just know that I'm working through some things.
© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

T - 16 days (and roughly 2.5 hrs)

The past two days I have been amazed at my body.

Yesterday I ran a mile in 9:16, hit 2 miles at 20:26, and had run a full 5k in 34:36.  And, psst...I walked a block of it, which means, I could do better still!  This is a huge victory for me in that it was my first sub-10 minute mile EVER, AND it was nearly 10 minutes off my 5k time in October.

This morning, I only ran a mile, but did it in 9:02!!!!

Recently I was discouraged about Bolder Boulder, thinking I wouldn't be able to run in the 68 minute heats (and I'm not, because I didn't run a pre-qualifier) simply because 68 minutes seemed too hard.  Yes, I've grown weary of "I just want to finish," and have started to replace it with, "I'd like to finish in :insert minutes and seconds:."  But, good news, if I double my length at the same pace as above, it is RIGHTTHERE.  SOCLOSE.  And I'm running that pace with a stroller and two dogs pulling me every which way, to which my stabilization muscles have said, "Uhm, Hell-O!"  In other words, I'm pretty confident that I have this in the bag!  Squeee!!!!

I've been watching this regularly, to get myself psyched up, to be able to visualize in my head as I'm running my loops at home.

Frank Shorter narrates the Bolder Boulder Course from Ryan Van Duzer on Vimeo.

I picked up my packet the other day - have my shirt, time tag, etc.  

May 31, 2010.  8:02:40am is my start time.  Shooting for finishing around 9:11ish.  And feel triumphant as I enter that stadium that not only did God bring me back last year, but He's strengthened me into an athlete along the way!

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved