Category Archives: Lessons from Running

Random lessons

Letting Go of the Martyr Thing…

Before I start, I want to give a quick update on Katherine.  Thank you so much for all the prayers, she is doing really well.  She was awake about a day after I posted and was communicating through writing while she was still intubated.  Last I heard, the breathing tube was removed and she was resting up in preparation for surgery scheduled for today to repair her facial fractures.  She still has an intensive recovery ahead of her, but the worst is behind us. She proved that she is the Superwoman we all believed her to be!
Something cool that happened from my last post was that my friend Leslie reached out because she had just met Katherine a couple weeks ago.  Katherine had posted looking for a photographer in Chicago and I gave her Leslie’s name.  Leslie had the pleasure of meeting Katherine’s entire family on the River front for photos.  Leslie thanked me for bringing my world’s together.  I always say I love small world stories, but my world is small because I make it that way.  I love bringing people together.  It’s who I am.
Now I’ll tell you a story…
Today I went out for a nice, little 16 mile run.  Ok, so most people wouldn’t put little in the same sentence as running 16 miles.  Fair enough.  I did the same thing I’ve done the past couple Thursdays, which has become my one “free day” during the week.  I don’t have to go to school on Thursdays and if I work it isn’t until later in the day.  So I’ve been dropping the kids at school and taking advantage of my solitude out in the woods.
This morning a couple ladies asked me if I was a “real ultra runner”.
“Are you an ultra runner? Because you look like an ultra runner.”
“I’ve done AN ultra”, I informed them.  “And I’m getting ready to run Berryman next weekend.”
“Oh, doesn’t that have one that’s like 50 miles?”
“Yes, but I’m just doing the marathon.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I heard how ridiculous it sounded.  “Just a marathon”.
At what point did we become a society that belittles our accomplishments?  I realize that the running community is known for this, but it happens a great deal in our everyday lives too.
I’m “just” a stay at home mom.  I’m “just” an associate.  I’m “just” a (fill in the blank).
I was thinking about this while I ran today.  And let’s face it, even though I “just” ran 16 miles, I was out there for the better part of the morning.  So I thought about several of the events of the past week.  Such as…
Last Thursday morning when I arrived at the Al Foster trail head, I pulled into the parking lot “just” ahead of my friend Heather.  (See what I did there?  Ok, sorry, I’ll stop.  For now.)  Heather was meeting a girlfriend to go for a run.  They invited me to join them, but I didn’t want my pace to slow them down.  And I was in need of zoning out, so I sent them on ahead.  But we chatted in the parking lot for a bit.  Heather gave me some of the details about Katherine’s accident that I hadn’t gotten.  We were all still pretty shaken by the whole thing.
Before Heather and her friend left, Heather said something that stuck with me this week.  She said there was a song that she always associates with me when she hears it on the radio.  I couldn’t place the song she meant, but I appreciated the sentiment.  It was something about a fight song.  I planned to look it up later.
That was Thursday, the weekend was a whirlwind!  Friday I dropped the kids at our friends house to ride to school, headed off to school myself, straight to work from there and finally arrived home in time to put Silas to bed Friday night, so I could study for a bit.
Saturday was off to the races early.  I dropped Ally at her dad’s for coverage of her day’s activities (Cue:severe mommy guilt for missing her Gymnastics Showcase).  Then we had Ethan’s baseball pictures at 9am and game at 10am.  The game went into extra innings, because I wasn’t stressed enough about the schedule, and we came screeching into the garage just minutes before Ethan’s friends arrived for his birthday party.  Fortunately my beau and his little dude were already there, just in case.  Brian and I filled canteens for all the boys, loaded everyone into the cars and headed off to Shaw Nature Reserve for an afternoon of hiking and exploring.  After everyone was thoroughly exhausted, we headed home for parents to pick up their boys. I ordered pizza while our boys played Wii.  Then B and I collapsed on the couch for a bit.  I may even have dozed briefly.  After B and G left, and my boys were settled for the night, and Ally was retrieved from her cousin’s house, I sat down for another study session until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
Sunday morning we were all pretty quiet.  B and G were back in time to go church with all of us. We caravan-ed over to the Crossing and I passed my kiddos off to their dad after service.  Then I raced home to change clothes and grab food before going to work for the day.  After work, I got in a short run and a shower and I was studying (while cooking salmon and drinking a glass of wine) when B showed up for dinner.  Neither one of us had enough energy to do anything more than sit on the couch.
Monday morning I was up with the sun for one last study session before heading off to school to take another exam.  I tanked this one.  And by tanked I mean it brought my average down to a 94%.  I’ll survive to see another day.  But my competitive nature is flaring.  During the 3 hours of lecture that followed, I found my mind wandering more than usual.  And at 1:00 when I finally sat down on my counselor’s mini-couch (I won’t say love seat, that’s a stupid name for a piece of furniture, especially in a therapist’s office), I promptly burst into tears.
“I’m so tired!”  I sobbed.
CRASH!  That was the the sound of my martyrdom crashing head first into a solid, cinder block wall.
We talked about a lot in our hour, but that’s covered under patient confidentiality so I can’t tell you the details.  I can, however, tell you that a big part of it had to do with me taking care of…me.
Yes, it’s true.  I have this problem with being a martyr.  I try to be all things to all people.  I make sure everyone is cared for.  And while I stepped out on my own a few years ago as a single woman, in an effort to take care of me, my needs, my heart, I still find myself crawl back into the role of martyr on occasion. It’s a sneaky, subtle process.  And then eventually I hit a breaking point which brings me to the realization that I’m back.
Last night I was out to pick up a couple things, gifts for Ally’s teachers and supplies for Silas’ talent show skit.  He’s going to be Silas the Mad Scientist and do “experiments” with Pepsi and Mentos.  I hope someone will take a video since I will be at my own last day of class that day.  I walked into Bread Co to get some gift cards for the teachers and I saw, none other than, Amy Marxkors.  I find it hilarious that this girl and I can try and try and try to make plans, but they always fall through.  And then randomly we will run into each other multiple times in a week.  I saw her twice last week at the end of my 13 mile run on Al Foster.
I gave her a quick run down of what’s going on with me and found out about some cool new projects she is working on.  And then, like a flash, she was gone.  Off to deliver a strawberry smoothie to the little girl she was tutoring.  But the thing that is so cool about my random Marxkors sightings, is that they may be brief, but they are always profound.  I texted her later to say how glad I was to see her and that I knew it was supernatural.  Her text back was on point…”Oh, I’m so glad! It is crazy how we run into each other at just the right time.  Be strong and deny the “martyr” thing.  That’s just a lie the devil uses to steal our lives.  God talks about quiet and stillness.  You need that.  Don’t sacrifice that.”
So, today as I enjoyed my quiet and stillness…maybe not so much physical stillness as just letting my brain be still, I heard Him softly telling me, “It’s ok. You do an amazing job of taking care of everyone, but it’s ok to take care of yourself.  You are my child, too. Let go of the martyr thing…”
While a part of me wants to jump up and down and scream, “WooHoo!”, there is an equal part of me that isn’t really sure what letting go looks like.  Change is scary.  It’s “just” hard.  But’s it’s also a necessary part of growth.
I have proven I’m a fighter.  I have proven I can do any darn thing I set my mind to.  I have proven I can be a full time mom, go to school, work and keep everything running like a well oiled machine.  But who am I trying to prove any of this to?  Now it’s time for me to prove that the fighter in me can fight the urge to be the martyr. Because I am so much more than “just” a martyr.  I can let go. I can make waves no matter what I’m doing. Or not doing. Starting now I reclaim my life.  I reclaim me.
And Heather’s song is still just as appropriate.  Take a listen…

A New Town Adventure, starring Jen and Lindsey (aka, the Blind and the Blond)

I know I’ve said it before, but some days just Do. Not. Go. According. To. Plan.

Today was one of them. Wow.  It was spectacularly amazing how much today did not go according to plan.  The good news is, I’m in need of a lighthearted post since my last one was pretty heavy.  So this came at just the right time.

The plan was…I would pick up Jen at 6:30 (much to my chagrin) and drive to New Town. We would do a little open water swim practice.  Then the rest of the crew (Justin, Kris, Tony, Steve and another Jen) would show up around 8 and we’d go for a 30ish mile bike, followed by a run.  Kris was suggesting only a couple miles, I was feeling ambitious, so I figured at least 4.  Then I would come home, shower, relax and feel incredibly accomplished for the rest of the day.

Here’s what really happened…

As planned, or relatively close to it, I arrived, coffee in hand, to pick up Jen. She was outside with her gear ready to go, so we put her bike on the rack with mine and away we went.  She was cheery, I was trying not to be grumpy.  The sky was a stunning array of pinks and purples as the orange ball of light rose over 40/64. We were a few minutes behind schedule as we drove north on 270 but everything was going roughly according to plan, until I forgot where I was going for a second and we ended up on Main Street Old St. Charles.  Ummm, oops.

We had been having such a lovely time chatting that I just completely flaked. So, back to 70 and over to 370 and almost there.  My blond moment had set us back some, but Jen took it in stride.  We finally pulled into New Town around 7:40 and made our way towards the lake in the center.  I looked at the other side of the lake and said, “Oh, there’s Tony’s car.”  Yep, all of our friends who were supposed to be waiting for us after the swim, had beaten us there.  Super.  But in all honesty, the time in the car with Jen had been good therapy.  Ya know how sometimes, you feel like you just click with someone?  Jen is one of those people.  The funny thing is we’ve both had this same circle of friends for well over a year, but we just officially met a couple weeks ago.  Today was confirmation that we are supposed to be friends.

After saying hi to the crew, Jen and I began the process of wetsuiting. You thought wetsuit was a noun, didn’t you? I have decided it can be a verb too, because I assure you the act of putting on a wetsuit deserves its own word.  Other than the 4 letter words I associate with it.

The nice lady whose house we happened to be in front of, came to the door to let us know that her sprinklers were headed our way. We appreciated the warning, not that it would have made much difference.  But we were happy she wasn’t yelling at us or turning us into the authorities for trespassing.

Anyway, back to wetsuiting. Lather on Body glide, one foot in, the other foot in, slowly work it up and over the booty.   Somehow Jen managed to get into hers before I was anywhere even close.  Gerry had joined us at New Town this morning, simply to be our stripper.  Wet suit stripper, that is.  He volunteered for the task of helping us remove the wetsuits.  However, his presence proved much more valuable for assistance with the opposite task.  Eventually Jen and Gerry each took a leg and as they worked the neoprene over my knees they lifted me completely off the ground.  Laughing, I grabbed onto their shoulders so I didn’t fall on my head.  I’m sure the two guys in the truck behind us thought the whole scene was hilarious.  Who could blame them?  We were ridiculous.  It was fantastic.

Finally, wetsuits, swim caps and goggles on. We walked over to the water and in we went.  The cycling crew was long gone, but Gerry sat and watched as we sputtered through our first strokes.  We all laughed as I was immediately tangled in seaweed.  Ok, try again, a few strokes in…anxiety attack.  Can’t breathe.  Remain calm and begin again.  We both started to find a rhythm.  Every 100 meters or so, we’d check in to make sure the other was ok and catch our breath.  Then, right back to it.  Somehow we managed to stretch a .6 mile swim into over a mile.  We were a magnificent display of criss-crossing each other’s wake.  We did a virtual high-five from about 10 feet away as we arrived back at our starting point.  And the even better news was that the cyclists weren’t back yet, so at least we didn’t take THAT long. We climbed out of the lake, walked back to the car and removed our wetsuits, which took considerably less time than putting mine on.

We had stashed my car key in Jen’s saddle bag so I unzipped it and unlocked the car. We weren’t practicing a fast transition so we took our time changing into dry cycling gear, pumping tires, putting on cycling shoes/gloves/helmets and having a quick snack.  Jen had stashed a bag of gummy bears in her car yesterday so her boys wouldn’t find them and when she showed me the blob they had melted into, we laughed about the inappropriate form it had taken.

We debated waiting for the group’s return, but ultimately we decided to take off. And I really had to pee.  So we rode over to the little market and Jen stayed with the bikes while I went in and used the ladies room.  It was a miracle I didn’t get lost, because it was about the only time I made it to my destination without an unplanned detour during the entire morning.

When I returned to Jen waiting outside, we mounted the bikes and slowly began making our way out of the neighborhood. I said, “I’m not really sure where I’m going out here.”  Jen responded, “Me neither.  I usually just follow Tony.”  Yeah, that’s what I usually do.  We joked about the blind leading the blind.  Maybe it should have been the blond leading the blind?  Sadly, we got lost several more times just getting out of the neighborhood.  But sometimes getting lost is the best way to figure out where you want to go.  (Take a second and ponder that)

We eventually found our way out onto one of the main roads and in the middle of Jen’s response to my question about her job, I glanced forward and saw that her saddle bag was open.

“Uh, Jen, I don’t want to interrupt but your saddle bag is open and we need to make sure the car key is still in there.”

She came to a screeching stop and we both grabbed for the bag. It’s not there.  She pulled the spare tube out, looked through everything.  Nope.  Not there.

And so began a slow retracing of our route, eyes glued to the other side of the road, scanning for the only key I have to my car.

You want to know what happens to Lindsey in that much stress? I go silent.  A girl who never, ever stops talking when there is someone to talk to, suddenly has no voice at all.  I began praying silently in my head, Please let us find the key…over and over and over.  They were the only words I knew.  About 2 minutes later we ran into the rest of the group.  Oh good, more eyes means a better shot at finding it! Unless…oh no, please don’t let that key have rattled free as we crossed one of the bridges over the lake…

We all rode slowly back into the neighborhood. Jen and Steve (or Justin?  Or both?) rode one way to cover one of our little accidental detours.  I headed back toward the market with Tony and Kris.  I think “other Jen” went a different way.  I wasn’t entirely sure who was where since I was so focused on starring at the ground.

Jen pulled over a couple of guys in a maintenance vehicle and asked if they might have seen a key on the ground. They said to check the market.

We rode back to the corner, back over the cobblestone section of road where I was desperately hoping it would be due to the jarring as we rode over the bumps. Nothing.  Solemnly, we headed down the last stretch toward the cars.  “Please let it be by the car…”

As we arrived at the car and leaned the bikes, Justin had me retrace exactly how we’d done things. Tony and Jen looked through the leaves by the curb, Justin and I started walking back the way we had gone.

Justin and Kris decided to put on running shoes and look for it that way. Great idea!  Too bad my running shoes are locked in the car.

As a last resort, Jen and I rode back over to the market to see if it was there. There was a guy setting up chairs for a wedding.  And just as Jen asked him if he had seen a key, he said, “Yeah, I was trying to yell to you guys, cause I thought you were looking for it.  I took it into the market.”

Oh Thank you Lord!

We affirmed the wedding setter-upper with “Thank you!”, “You are my favorite person EVER!” and “You’re awesome!”

I practically flew off my bike, handed it to Jen and ran into the market, my cycling shoes clicking on the tile floor. I saw the cashier and searched his face as I simply asked, “Car key?”  He said, “Right here” as he reached into a drawer behind the counter.  That market was my beacon in the night today.

As I returned to Jen outside, a wave of relief washed over both of us. We pedaled back to the cars and as soon as everyone was within earshot I let out a loud “Woohoo!”  We heard their return cheer echo in the distance.

I looked at Jen and said, “Should we quit while we’re ahead?” She said emphatically, “Yes!”

Most lame training ride ever. We covered about 6 miles in an hour.

Justin and Kris were headed out for a run, so we traded our cycling shoes for running shoes, ditched our helmets and locked the bikes back to the car.

I firmly clutched the car key in my hand as we began running, trying to catch up with them. Again, we weren’t entirely sure where they were or where we were going.  They said a loop around the lake, right? Sure.  A mile or so later, we were back at the cars having gone around the lake, and never finding them.  Hmmm…

And then we saw them coming toward us. They were shooting for 2 miles so we joined them for a little back and forth on the road where we were parked .  Well, at least this way we can’t get lost.  Or if we lose the key again, we won’t have much ground to cover to look for it.  In the future, Tony has been assigned the task of marking the bike course with chalk.  And I am accepting applications for a “Key Master”.

Jen and I finished the day at just over a mile swim, about 6.5 on the bike and just under a 2 mile run. Not even 10 miles in total. But we had done a mini-tri, practiced transitions (sort of), held a scavenger hunt and had quite an adventure.  Most importantly, we had gotten in a practice swim in the wetsuit.  And we bonded.

As we drove out of New Town, I yelled out the window to our friends, “Maybe you should follow us out of here so we don’t get lost again.” They all laughed.  And then Jen said, “It’s funny but it’s true.”  And we laughed again.  We did beat them out of New Town.  It was the only thing we won at today.

As we drove home, we resumed our continual chatter. During the run, Jen had continued the story I cut short upon noticing the open saddle bag.  And our conversation went into deeper topics.  I still can’t believe I haven’t known this girl my entire life.  As I turned into her neighborhood, and onto our street, I was a little sad that our morning was over.  We hadn’t really done what we set out to do, but I know I got so much more out of it than I ever could have imagined.

Then I drove the mile back to my house, sat my nasty self on the couch and ate a bag of goldfish crackers. I don’t mean a handful.  I mean I opened a brand new bag and ate every last morsel of that flavor blasted goodness.  Hey, better to drown my frustrations in goldfish than calling up Gerry to see if he has any more of the Tequila left that I kept refusing last night.

While our workout today left me feeling like a huge embarrassing failure, the time I had with Jen was priceless. And I can’t thank that group of people enough for sticking it out today until everything was under control.  I have my second 70.3 next weekend to prove myself as an athlete.  And I’m so glad that most of the folks from this morning will be out on that course with me.  Justin, Kris, Steve and Jen are all after their A race for 2014.  Other Jen is on a relay team.  Hopefully, Tony will come out and take some stellar pictures of us since he isn’t registered.  For me, it’ll just be another day at the office as I use it as a big training day in prep for Arizona.  I can’t think of a better way to spend next Sunday than having a “do-over” of today.  But even if I had known what was in store for today when my alarm went off at 5:45 this morning, I wouldn’t do this “Triathlon of emotions” any differently.

PS-Justin, I think I’ll head over to the Hyundai dealership right now to have a second key made.

 

Jen and RRG, aka the Blind and the Blond

Jen and RRG, aka the Blind and the Blond

 

Hot Mess to the Rescue!

Last night at 8pm, my Hot Mess peeps reunited in the Lifetime parking lot for a field trip. Well, half of us reunited anyway. It’s been a month since our Ragnar adventure from Madison to Chicago, so it was time.  The plan was set in motion on our drive home to St. Louis last month, when we talked about all the fun events we were planning.  Sadly, our Castlewood run a couple weeks ago, which was to be followed by pancakes at Kris’s house, was kind of a bust, due to migraines, and travel, and unfortunate life circumstances.  Almost everyone had to bail on that gathering, so the group was small that day.

So, last night all the Hot Mess girls (Kris, Shalini and myself) along with a few of the boys, (Gerry, Wes and Shane) piled into my Pathfinder and we drove over the Missouri River, west on 94, out to the Lewis & Clark trail for a night run.  The point was for everyone who doesn’t usually run at night to be able to reuse some of the supplies we had to purchase for Ragnar, ie headlamps and reflective vests.  As the FLEET FEET Chesterfield Social Run Leader, I use mine on a fairly regular basis, but there was no way I was gonna miss out on this adventure.

And what an adventure it turned out to be…

We arrived at Lewis & Clark by dusk.  Wes figured out how to set the timer on Shalini’s camera, and the scent of bug spray was in the air (and my mouth…gack!) as we steadied the camera on the one other vehicle in the gravel lot to get the right angle for our self-portrait.  We all commented that it was odd for that lone Camry to be out there at that time of day.  We speculated that there was an ax-murderer waiting for us in the woods.  Ah, but there is safety in numbers.

We each took a final swig of Gatorade before leaving our bottles in the car and I handed the car key off to Shane for safe keeping.  We debated between the 5 mile loop and the 8 mile loop, ultimately landing on the 5 mile loop, nice and slow, before we would head back to the valley for a beer.  The 5 mile loop is Lewis, right?  No, it’s Clark.  No, no, it’s definitely Lewis.  Whatever, somebody knows, right?  Maybe…

We turned on our headlamps and set off down the path.  Of the group, I had run out there the most recently, but the last time was Easter.  The trail has changed a lot just since then with all the rain and tornados we’ve had.  Wes and I are the most frequent traversers of that path, so Wes primarily took the lead, confirming with me in places.  But Gerry, who had only been there once, turned out to be invaluable, finding the path on multiple occasions.

It was officially dark by the time we reached the bluff overlooking the river about a mile in.  The moon was high, lighting up the water enough to see it moving rapidly down below.  Wes said, “Be careful how close you get to the edge there”.  As I scootched closer and closer, I said, “Oh, like this?  Does this bother you Wes?”  I don’t think he found me amusing.

We tried to take a photo or two with Kris’s phone, while the sweat rolled down our faces, but I’m not sure how successful the pictures turned out to be.  Then we took a hard left and headed down the hill.  Shane said something at one point about when were we going to go back up.  Then we went back up.  And up.  Then back down.  Then across the creek to the sign…wait, where is the sign…?  Wes found it.  We’re following Lewis, right?  That’s the 5 mile loop, isn’t it?  Yeah, it is.

No, it isn’t.

Unbeknownst to us, we chose the longer of the roads less traveled.  We carried on, going along our merry way, Wes making owl calls and other odd noises.  What is that sound?  Is that a chainsaw?  It was at about Mile 5 that we got stuck.  The path ended, we headed back up.  No, that has to be the right way…it was, the path was just blocked by a HUGE tree that we had to climb through in order to get back on track.  Good thing we had Explorer Gerry with us to go on ahead and figure it out.

When we got to the sign that read Lewis Trail Mile 6, we knew for sure what we had done and that we still had a couple miles to go.  We were on the longer trail.  That was also the point that I couldn’t stop thinking about the Gatorade that was sitting in my SUV.  It was surprisingly pleasant in the woods last night.  After how incredibly hot it was all day yesterday, the woods seemed strangely cool, despite the thick humidity in the air.  I commented that I didn’t think getting super dehydrated 4 days before my big race this weekend was probably in my training plan.  But, what can ya do?  Just gotta keep going.

At about mile 6.5, Wes, Shalini and Kris were maybe 15 yards ahead of me, Shane and Gerry.  Then I heard Shane say, “Who is that!?”  We could see someone in a striped shirt following close behind our trio of friends ahead of us.  What in the world was going on?

As we caught up to them, we learned that Bill from Florida, had gone out for what he thought was a 3 mile hike at 7:30pm. He ended up on the 8 mile trail, just like we had.  What are the chances of that?  I always say everything happens for a reason. Hot Mess to the rescue!  That’s what I like to call a happy accident.  He had already called for assistance, so when he saw our lights, he asked “Are you search and rescue?”  Kris, not knowing that he was serious, said, “Sure!”  We’ve never met a stranger.  Especially when someone is in distress.  So our group of 6, then became 7.

As we hiked him out of there, he called 911 back to say he had been found.  It was entertaining to hear only his side of the conversation.  “No, I don’t know these people.”  “They’re very well prepared with lights” and “They’re a very exuberant group”.  I’m pretty sure he was talking about me with that last part.  Go figure.  I’m loud.  And I like to laugh.  This is nothing new.

As we finally closed in on the end of the trail, we could see there was quite a welcoming committee waiting for us.  As we exited the woods, we were met by an Ambulance, Fire truck, a couple cop cars, the Park Ranger, and a flatbed trailer to transport the ATV.

First things first, “Shane, unlock the car so we can rehydrate!”  We all agreed that Gatorade had never tasted so good.  The Ranger took down Wes and Shane’s info so that if the deputies had any questions they could get in touch with us.  We took photos in front of the emergency vehicles to commemorate our walk on the wild side.  When I saw “Cottleville” on the Fire truck, I went over to ask if Farrell’s fiancé, Ryan Heaberlin was on board since that is his station.  I talked to Fireman Steve and told him how I know Ryan.  As we talked we realized we had met once before when I brought Silas to the station for a visit.

Eventually, we headed out of the parking lot. I had to weave my way between all the large vehicles with their lights flashing.  We headed to Itap in the valley, for a well-deserved drink, as we relived our adventure of the evening.  Never a dull moment with this group.  I guess that’s partly what makes our name, Hot Mess, so appropriate.  And remember how we saved the distressed runner on the course up in Wisconsin last month?  Well, I’m really glad I didn’t have to help carry Bill through the woods, like I did Angela at Ragnar!

I really don’t have much of a moral to my little story here, other than if you’re going to set off into the woods at dusk, make sure you bring a light.  And make sure you know which trail you’re supposed to be on.  But I’m glad I had that time with my teammates last night before I set off on another adventure.

I leave tomorrow afternoon for Racine.  It may not be in the woods, but it’s still unfamiliar territory. I need to go finish gathering my necessities and packing.  Yes, the piles are already forming on my bedroom floor.  But I got my Hot Mess mojo last night, so what else do I really need?

Please keep all your positive thoughts coming my way, especially starting at 7:20 am on Sunday when the yellow wave of women 35-39 sets out into the waters of Lake Michigan.  It’s almost Go time, People.

I’ll catch you on the flip side…

Speedwork, Smiles and Sweaty Hugs

Today was a unique experience in my racing career. I went to a race that I was not competing in.  I was there purely to provide a cheering squad.  And I say squad because I dragged my 3 kiddos out to the course with me.  Granted I bribed them with Dunkin Donuts along the way, but the donuts had long since worn off by the time everyone crossed the finish line.

There was a Triathlon that about 25 of my friends competed in about an hour outside of St. Louis this morning.  Although this would have been great prep for the 70.3 I am about to embark upon in 3 short weeks (Oh dear Lord is it really that close? Please be wrong, please be wrong, please be wrong…crap. No, it’s really that close.  Deep breath…)  Anyway, I was saying, today’s event would have been a great practice race for Racine, but since I had my kids this weekend, I didn’t sign up.

On Thursday at Speedwork, a bunch of peeps were talking about it and I considered for approximately half a second that it might not be too late for me to sign up and I could just have my friend Chad’s daughter, Jasmine, watch my kiddos.  But ultimately, I decided I wouldn’t have the time I needed to mentally prepare, in order to have a decent race.  So I bagged the notion of trying to compete, and settled on being at the finish line to cheer everyone in.  As it turned out, THAT was a fantastic idea.

You see, on Thursday, I was having an awful day.  I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and proceeded to stay there for most of the day.  I didn’t actually stay in bed, I just stayed in my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad mood. Even coffee didn’t help.  Neither did cleaning.  Lindsey quirk #7 (I think I’m on 7)…usually cleaning the whole house top to bottom can burn off my negative energy.  It didn’t that day.  The reason for my bad mood really isn’t important, but I continued to be Little Miss Crabby Pants. That is, until I got to hang out with some of my running buds at Shalini’s neighborhood pool for a bit. The kids played while we sat, and I vented, and we laughed.  Then I went off to Speedwork at the Marquette High School track and really let loose with the emotions to run it out.  Nothing makes for some really good speed like a little anger.  After running myself to the point of dripping with sweat during a 400m, 800m, 1200m, 1200m, 800m, 400m pyramid workout, I seemed to be a little better.  Having my kiddos out at the track was a blast, too.  And then we all went off to Dewey’s with the whole crew for some pizza.  We ended up with such a huge group that we needed one giant table and a corner booth.  We pretty much closed down the joint.  As I sat there eating pizza, with Silas snuggled on my lap while my other two played with Chad’s kids, Dennis and I were talking about the importance of the running community and sharing that with my kids.  Showing them that working out and being healthy is fun.  Not just because exercise is good for the body, but also celebrating that with good people is good for the heart.

And that’s when it hit me.  I’ve been enjoying showing my kids what it is that I love so much.  And even more, I’ve been enjoying merging my kids with my community.  So I decided I would take the cheering section on a field trip out to Innsbrook to support my friends in their athletic endeavor.

On the way out to the course this morning, we had the windows down and the radio turned up.  It was a beautiful day, sunny skies with some puffy white clouds, a nice breeze and high in the low 70’s.  Perfect race day weather.  I kept saying, “Next year I am totally signing up for this race”.  Which likely means it will either be pouring rain or a heat index of 105.  So, we were cruising along, singing with Christiana Aguilera, and suddenly Ally asks, “Mom, why are so many songs on the radio about dating or being in love?  They are almost all about girls and boys.”  I said, “You’re right, Al.  I guess it’s because people write music about their life experiences.  And so many life experiences involve different relationships.  Some that grow, some that end, some that last forever, there are so many kinds of relationships and they’re always changing.  People sing songs about that because the listeners can relate to them. “

Eventually, we made it to the course, which was interesting, seeing that I am completely navigationally challenged.  I pulled over to ask a police officer for directions and he started to ask if I knew where some landmark was, then stopped mid –sentence and said, “Wait, you’re not from around here, are you?”  Ummm, no.  Once we got parked, we had to hike over to the Finish Line.  All 4 of us, single file, trying to avoid being run over by cars and cyclists.  We walked up to the Finish and no more than 30 seconds later, I saw my friend Katherine cross the line.  About a minute later, she was followed by Nick.  Despite my direction mishaps, we made it just in time.  Shortly after that, we located my friend Dan and we all watched a straight on view of the Finish to see everyone coming in and our cheering section continued to grow as members of our training group finished.  It was a steady stream for the next hour and a half of so many friends.   Fellow and former Fleet Feet-ers, social runners, customers, training pals from swimming, Ladies from the Fit and Fab group…they just kept coming.  It was amazing.  I yelled, I cheered, I high fived and fist bumped.  I got several sweaty hugs.  And I wouldn’t take back a single one of them.

I watched my friends crash through their own personal obstacles, conquer their fears, bust down old PR’s.  I saw some take home medals and some were just glad to cross the line still standing and with a smile on their face.

Karen’s finish made a lasting impression because as she stood there talking to us just seconds after finishing, she had tears in her eyes as she said, “I did it”.  Karen, like me, was not a swimmer, but she learned and she got through the open water swim and was so proud of herself that she cried…happy tears of course.  Personally, I almost always cry when I cross the finish line.  Maybe that’s another Lindsey quirk.

Unfortunately, I missed Kris coming across the line because Silas decided he had to go to the port-o-potty and it had to be right that second.  Then he proceeded to check each one and declared, “They’re all flooded!”  To which I replied, “Welcome to my World, Kid. They’re port-o-potties!  Just pick one!”

Tracy made my day when she said she was disappointed to find out I wasn’t competing today.  It’s ok, Tracy and I will have our shot together in Wisconsin in 21 more days.  Tracy also said the best part was that she just felt positive the whole way.  That’s awesome.  I’m gonna need some of that in Racine!

Every few minutes someone else came down the shoot.  AJ and Rickster crossed at the same time.  Roberto, Chad, Steve, Erin.  I didn’t have any idea that Teri and Kristen were going to be there.  Tony, Nikki, Chris.  A couple friends did the sprint distance, so I never saw Jenn on the course, but I ran into Sarah just as I was heading out with the kids.  Sarah placed 3rd today and had a huge 7 minute PR after 5 years off…she did all that with a defibulator.  Incredible.

As the kids and I followed Tony’s little red mini Cooper carrying him, Erin, Nikki and all of their bikes, all of us caravanning back to Erin’s parent’s house for brunch, I heard another song come on the radio and these words struck me…

“We come into this world unknown
But know that we are not alone
They try and knock us down
But change is coming, it’s our time now

Hey… everybody loses it,
Everybody wants to throw it all away sometimes
And hey… yeah I know what you’re going through
Don’t let it get the best of you, you’ll make it out alive”

This week begins the final big push to Racine.  I’ve got to get in some good swims and long rides and get my body more used to the feeling of running after getting off the bike. It’s going to be hard, but as we always say, “It’s supposed to be hard.  If it was easy, everyone would do it.”  After today, watching my friends, my community, my peeps, I know that I can do this, because I’m going to have so many of them right there with me when I do.  Life experiences.  Relationships.  Getting knocked down and getting back up again.  Because no matter where you are on your journey, someone else has been there and it’s your community, your cheering section, your friends, that will always get you through.

So proud of these peeps!  Even more proud to call them my friends.

So proud of these peeps! Even more proud to call them my friends.

Find Your Strong

Saucony did an advertising campaign recently called Find Your Strong.  If I could have had a theme to the past week, I think that pretty much covers it.

Last week I was feeling pretty discouraged about my training for Racine and just my abilities in general.  After I blogged my pity party the other night, I decided it was time to put on my big girl panties and get to work.  So on Thursday afternoon when I left FLEET FEET, I went off to Lake St. Louis to meet up with Farrell for a little open water swim.  I got to see her new house, which is awesome.  But we spent a little too much time chatting and didn’t end up with a ton of time to swim.   We walked over to the beach and jumped in for a quick 1000 meters (I supposed quick is a relative term).  It wasn’t much, but considering that was the first time I’ve been in that lake since my first and only triathlon last August, it was somewhat monumental.  I swam 500m out and then back again in the open water, freestyle the whole way, practiced sighting and felt great.  I acknowledged how far I’ve come in less than a year and that alone was enough to restore my confidence in my upcoming attempt at 70.3.  After that swim, I got in a short 40 minute bike ride, before getting over to the Marquette High School track to be the guest leader for Thursday night Speedwork.  Cole, who usually leads, had been given concert tickets for his birthday from his girlfriend and had asked me several weeks ago to fill in.  I didn’t get to run too much of the workout with the group, but I got in a couple of slow, rather painful (my hip is still sketchy) laps around the track.  So, all in all, it was a successful day since it involved swim, bike and run.  Sort of.

Thursday morning was tough though.  As I dropped my kiddos off at their camp, I said goodbye to them until I see them again on Tuesday.  5 days straight without my babies.  Ally and I got each of the boys settled in their rooms and then we began the trek up the stairs.  She started walking slower, I could tell it was coming.  As we got in sight of her group, she threw her arms around me and started sobbing.  “I don’t want to be away from you for 5 days, Mom.  It’s too long.  I miss you so much!” she cried.  I hugged her and pulled her to the bench along the wall of the hallway.  I held her for a few minutes and reassured her that she’d have a great time at the water park with her cousins, the time would fly and we’d be back together before she knew it.  I asked if there was anything I could do to help make it easier and we agreed on a 7pm phone call Friday night.  Ultimately, I wrestled free of my baby girl’s grip and headed back down the stairs.  As soon as my back was to her, my own tears began to fall.  You see, sometimes we put on a brave face and we stay strong only because we have to, in order to help someone else feel strong.

When the kids are with their dad, I usually fill the time pretty well.  Thursday was packed with activities.  Friday I worked most of the day, then went down to Forest Park, did a couple loops on my bike, and just as I was transitioning to run, Diana showed up.  We did one loop around the park before heading back to the rooftop of her apartment building for some sunset wine and sushi.  During which, I made a call to my Ally-girl, as promised.

Saturday morning, I was up at the crack of dawn to head out to Newtown to meet up with Kris for a swim/bike.  I got in two whole laps for a whopping total of a MILE of open water swimming, no stopping, all freestyle!  Holy Schnikes I’m making progress!  We followed that up with about 15 miles on the bike before Kris and I both had to hit the road.  I grabbed coffee and food on my way to work, where I jumped in the shower. I am so grateful for this particular amenity of my job, though probably not as grateful as my co-workers, considering that as I stood in Starbucks wondering why it smelled like a fishy lake, I ultimately realized it was my own stench.  Gross.  Anyway, I fit some folks for running shoes on Saturday afternoon and then did a quick change into a little black dress to head out to dinner with a group of friends, during which I had to respond to several  “I miss you” texts from Ally.

On Saturday evening I came to the realization that I have officially become “That Triathlete Girl” who has her bike locked to the bike rack and a bike pump, helmet, cycling shoes, wetsuit, towel, swim cap, goggles, running gear and evening out clothes all in the back of my car at any given time.  Always prepared to squeeze in one form of recreation or another whenever I can.  But I digress…

This morning I was planning to cycle.  Well, it didn’t happen, for a myriad of reasons.  I had some other stuff to tend to before going off to work, which involved sending an email I didn’t really want to send but I knew it needed to happen.  After work, I was hoping to get in a long run in the rain which probably would have been good for my head and my heart, which are very obviously not on the same page these days.  The heart wants what it wants, even though the head sometimes knows better.  Or maybe the head just thinks it knows better.  I’m still not really sure.  At any rate, the lightening  extravaganza that was on display about the time I rolled up to Creve Coeur Lake, quickly put an end to the idea of my rain run.  So, I went with Plan B instead, I picked up Thai food and went to hang out with Farrell.  I needed some Linds time.

So, what’s the moral here?  Well, sometimes we have to do things we don’t particularly want to do in an effort to be strong for ourselves or someone else.  Sometimes we have to find our strong.  Sometimes it doesn’t look the way we thought it would.  Sometimes we find confidence in that.  Sometimes it means we have to let go of something.  And sometimes, it just plain breaks our hearts.  But when it comes down to it, as this weekend comes to a close, I’m proud of me for finding my strong when I needed to.  Sometimes being strong means facing a fear, sometimes it means pushing ourselves through it and sometimes it means making ourselves vulnerable.  I believe it was Nelson Mandela who said something to the effect of, “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave (person) is not (one) who does not feel afraid, but (one) who conquers that fear.”  I think he was saying, Be Brave…Go find your strong.

Yesterday morning as I drove out to Newtown, the sun was shining, but I had my wipers going because it was also raining at the same time.  I thought, This is so odd.  And then in my rear-view mirror, I saw a rainbow.  But isn’t that just so representative of life…it can be sunny and raining all at the same time.  And sometimes you have to look behind you, in order to see the rainbow.

Objects in mirror are closer than they appear...

Objects in mirror are closer than they appear…

Burn Out

Burn out.  It happens.  I can’t remember it ever happening to me in the few weeks leading up to a race, but this time it did.  Racine is 32 days away.  And I just don’t feel like training.  I just want to sleep.  For like a week.

I got back from Ragnar last week and managed to shuffle my way through the week of post-race blues.  I kept telling myself at least I have Racine 70.3 to look forward to in just over a month.  But for this week, I have absolutely zero to show for my training.  My hip has been bugging me since the relay last weekend, so I pretty much took running out of the equation for the last 10 days, with the exception of a mile and a half that I ran last Thursday with Ethan who was dragging me along the entire way, telling me to hurry up.  I think it took me nearly 14 minutes to go 1.25 miles…painfully slow.  Literally. I hurt.

I did manage to work in some laps in the pool, several miles on the bike and some strength training.  Sunday morning I rode almost 30 miles, partially in a downpour, before heading in to work.  But since then…nothing.  I have done absolutely zip.  On Monday, I had to refocus my priorities to tend to things like retirement funds and taxes and life insurance and broken air conditioner units.  All things I had been pretty much avoiding for about a month.  Except the AC, that kinda snuck up on me, and I knew I needed to deal with it before the real St. Louis summer arrives.  Basically, anything regarding finances is pretty much like someone speaking Japanese to me, so rather than try to understand it, I just smile and nod and go on my merry way.  Then I ride off into the sunset thinking that if I just ignore it, I won’t ever have to deal with it again.  Well, yesterday, it was time to stop avoiding things and confront them head on.  So I did.  But it pretty much sucked up my whole day and after a while I decided my Monday brick workout was out the window.  And I was, oddly, ok with that.

Eventually I made my way to work.  And afterwards, we had our standing Monday night girls outing…me, Linds and Katrina.  Occasionally, one of us doesn’t make it (which usually involves one of those two having plans with a boy) but last night we all ditched our plans and joined up for some 54th St Therapy.  Katrina sidelined packing and prep for this weekend, Linds bailed on the new guy from “match” and I happily saved my Chinese take-out and viewing of the Bachelorette for another night.

Anyway, I had considered going to swimming this morning, but when I was asked to take custody of the kids a little earlier than normal, of course I couldn’t refuse.  So, my swim workout again fell by the wayside.  And again I wasn’t terribly disappointed.  Relieved is probably more accurate.

I tell people all the time that eventually something will come up to throw a wrench in their training.  I had a customer the other day who insisted he wouldn’t miss a training run leading up to the Chicago Marathon in Oct.  I told him that chances were good that he would get sick or something would come up at some point to make him skip a run or even two, but he should remember it isn’t the end of the world.  Just pick up where you left off and keep on going.  He insisted he wouldn’t slip, not even once.  Ok, dude, we’ll just see about that.

So, why is it that after missing two of my crucial workout days, I am considering throwing in the towel?  This isn’t like me.  I don’t always practice what I preach (ie-Get on the foam roller everyday!…uh, yeah, I do that…usually…sometimes…not really) but honestly, I’ve never been one to be worried after skipping a workout or two.  However, tonight as I sat on my booty at the pool with the kids, eating a dinner consisting primarily of brownies and Swedish fish, I found myself considering the possibility that I have taken on one too many races and I am no longer finding this fun.  Picking the hardest race I’ve ever attempted, which takes place during my kids summer vacation, in the year that I am learning how to be a single parent, might possibly have been the dumbest thing I have ever done.   Finding time to train for this thing is STRESSING ME OUT!

So, what are my options…consider the possibility that I should step out of this race and save 70.3 for another season in my life.  OR…remind myself that I’m human, I’m not Superwoman, and it’s ok if I go and attempt this race and just do the best I can without placing a bunch of expectations on myself.  It might take me a really, really, really long time to finish this thing…and that’s ok.  I might get a toe cramp on the swim or a flat tire during the bike or any other number of setbacks on the course.  I might have to walk the entire half-marathon, which would typically be my strength.  I might, God forbid, not even finish.  And all of those things are O-K.  I’m still going to try.  Even though my training hasn’t been what I wanted it to be.  And even though this week, I’ve been in the dark place, and haven’t particularly felt like training.  I’m still going to keep putting one arm in front of the other, one pedal in front of the other and one red Mizuno running shoe in front of the other, just to make the effort.  Because that, my friends, is life.  It’s hard, and sometimes we have to do things that we don’t find especially enjoyable or we aren’t very good at and sometimes we just feel burned out, but ultimately, we know that we have to at least try.

I don’t think anyone would think any less of me if I decided this wasn’t the time or place for me to attempt this.  And quite frankly, I don’t really give a crap if they did think less of me.  I don’t need to prove anything to anyone other than myself.  This is between me, myself and I.  Nobody else.  At the end of the day, I am accountable only to the person that I see when I look in the mirror.  And I know that I’m not the kind of person to back down from something just because I may not do it as well as I do some other things.

So, yeah, this week I committed the cardinal sin of training when I bailed on a couple workouts just because.  That doesn’t mean I’ve lost my discipline, it just means that I’m a busy single mom who had some extra challenges come up. But I won’t run away with my tail between my legs.  I’ll stand and fight. I’ll get back on the horse and ride again.  And I’ll probably fall off a time or two, or ten.  And I’ll probably encounter some more things that I don’t know how to do (I still need Roberto to teach me how to change a flat tire).  And I’ll probably ask everyone I know for advice.  And I’ll probably piss and moan about how I’m just not as good at some of this as so many other people I know.  But it is what it is.  And at least I’m gonna keep giving it a shot.  Starting tomorrow.  Or maybe the day after.

Hot Mess

Last weekend I spent approximately 82 hours in a 15 passenger van with my Ragnar team, Hot Mess.  We drove to Madison on Thursday, where we started a 200 mile race on Friday, ending in Chicago on Saturday evening.  It was crazy.  It was a hot mess.  It was…absolutely fantastic.  So much so, that after taking our time leaving Chicago on Sunday afternoon to drive back down 55 south, we still weren’t ready to part ways.  Half of us went to Uncle Bill’s Pancake House to grab dinner.  We milked the weekend for every moment.  I sat at Uncle Bill’s nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee, with a half-eaten pancake in front of me for over half an hour, telling our waitress that I was “still working on it” just to keep my teammates there a little bit longer.

The basic concept of a relay is Run, Eat, Try to sleep, Laugh your ass off, Repeat.  This was my second relay of the year but a completely different team running a completely different course means a completely different experience.  One is not necessarily better than the other, just different.  As a side note, my two teams have been the Smokin’ Aces and the Hot Mess.  So, when I’m not with the rest of the Aces or the rest of the Mess, what am I left with?  I’m just Smokin’ Hot.  Haha.

Anyway, I was saying, a different experience.  We ran country roads, neighborhoods, trails, city streets, you name it. This team was comprised of almost entirely St. Louis folk, with the exception of Tom, who we picked up in Madison on Friday morning.  It was a nice balance of some friends that I know relatively well and others that I just met on this trip.  We had quite a mix of personalities, which certainly keeps things interesting.  I believe that people come into our lives for a reason and that we can learn something from every person who does so.  I definitely learned some things this past weekend, and I’m not just referring to the education I received on the definition of “glory hole” or how to jimmy-rig a Garmin strap with a safety pin or that there is a right way and a very wrong way to climb up on top of a van.

You’ll find that on a team, there is always someone handing you a beverage at the end of your leg…or I should say, almost always.  We’re still apologizing to Wes for not being out there to cheer him in at 5am. There’s always someone to give you a hug when you need it or to “fluff” you as you get ready to run.  Someone might even read you a bedtime story.   Or offer to spoon you.  And the laughs just keep on comin’.  Especially when you run into Napoleon Dynamite on a bike.

I have come to the conclusion, that no matter how different we are, people are all inherently the same on the inside.  We all share the same basic need that comes down to being accepted.  To know that each of us is enough…just as we are.  Even with our own hot mess going on.  Even with our own individual quirks.  And believe me, any time you put 11 people in a van together, you’re going to discover each other’s quirks. (Hopefully I didn’t drive anyone too crazy with my tendency to recite movie lines incessantly) But you’re also going to discover a lot of good things about each other too.

You learn that people are willing to step up and take one for the team, even when they’re tired or hurting.  Like Gerry running part of Mark’s leg with him in the heat of the day, after he had just finished his own leg. Like people who are willing to stay awake and drive or navigate in the wee hours of darkness.   Like people who are willing to run an extra leg, or maybe two.

Friday afternoon, as we drove along the route, we noticed a distressed runner struggling in the heat.  We quickly pulled over to help her.  Despite the fact that she was stumbling along the road, she refused to give up. The heart wants what it wants and she insisted on finishing.  Also despite the fact that Dan was supposed to run the next leg, he was the first one out of the van to help her.  Wes drove up to the next exchange to find her team.  Kris gave her water and Gatorade, while John tried to get a cell signal to call the Ragnar folks. A few of us basically carried her along the route to where the ambulance was waiting for her because she absolutely refused to stop.  I’m glad to report we saw Angela later the next day.  She had been released from the hospital to rejoin her team, but wasn’t allowed to run anymore of the race.  Apparently, she had not been informed that she wasn’t supposed to exercise in the sun while she was on her new meds.  It was about 80 degrees and sunny when we found her on that country road where there was no shade.  A runner is a runner, and even though we compete against one another, we ultimately know when to put the competition on hold to help one another.

Re-entering reality over the past couple days has been tough.  I’ve been in a funk since I got home late Sunday night, as I know several of my teammates have also been.  We’ve all got a bad case of the post-race blues.  I love racing.  But sadly, racing doesn’t love me back.  It breaks up with me every time.  It waits until I am riding the high and then it says, “Lindsey, it’s over between us.”  And then I find myself feeling empty and alone.  The thing that has been my focus is now gone. It was better than I expected, but now it’s behind me and I can’t go back.  For me, this was a unique experience.  I got to run the final leg into Chicago, the city that I love and will possibly always consider home.  I say it all the time, you can take the girl out of Chicago, but you can’t take Chicago out of the girl.  I’ve been back to Chicago several times since moving to St. Louis, but this was the first time that I didn’t see a single person from my life when I lived there.  As I ran that final leg into Montrose Harbor, I listened to Fun sing through my yurbuds, “May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground”.  Which is exactly what I was doing.  It’s time to let go of my life in Chicago.  It’s time to let go and focus on the next chapter.  It’s time to just let go…

And you know what they say…if you love something, let it go.  I can’t go back to my life in Chicago because that’s just the way it is, but I know running will come back to me, it always does.  And I will be woo-ed to race again.  See you soon, Racine.

A final note to my Hot Mess teammates:

Thank you to Shalini for having this idea.  And for being persistent enough to follow through, no matter what!  Thank you to Wes for immediately inviting me to be a part of this Hot Mess.

Thank you to Dan, Gerry, John, John Vega, Kris, Mark, Shane and Tom for coming on board and being a part of this experience.  I can’t imagine a single second of the Ragnar Chicago weekend without any of you.

Thank you to all of you for accepting this hot mess, otherwise known as Rambling Runner Girl.  I could not be more proud to be a Hot Mess! Lots of hugs to all of you, and remember…if the van’s not rocking, we’re probably spooning.

PS-I’ve noticed that my big toe on my right foot has been numb since Sunday.  Does anyone know if this is a side effect of roofies?

Hot Mess, Ragnar Madison to Chicago 2013

Hot Mess, Ragnar Madison to Chicago 2013

 

 

 

Why Did the Beetle Cross the Road?

Why did the beetle cross the road?

I don’t know.  I didn’t stop to ask him.  Instead I kept right on running, careful not to step on him.

But if you want to know why Rambling Runner Girl crossed the road, it was to stay in the shade!

However, I got so much more than just a break from the sun.

Let me explain…

The saying goes that lightening never strikes twice, right?  Well, I’m not sure I really believe that, but I can assure you that tornadoes DO strike the same place.  I know this because as I pulled into Babler today, I encountered a sign indicating that parts of park were closed due to storm damage from tornadoes that rolled through last month.  This was the same sign I came across in February of 2011 when I was one of the first people to enter the park for a run after tornadoes had done some major destruction.  In fact, there was a news crew there that day.  They filmed me, interviewed me and gave me about 20 seconds of St. Louis fame.  A few weeks ago, the park got slammed again.

For whatever reason, I chose Babler as yesteday’s location for an easy 12 mile run.  Ummm, yeah, there is nothing easy about Babler, especially on a day where humidity is at a high for the year so far.  Typically, when I run at Babler there is a 4 mile loop that I stick to, mainly because I know it and I don’t usually have enough time to run the 5 mile loop that I’ve heard exists out there.  Well, yesterday, I finally chose the road less traveled, at least by me.  I ran the big loop twice and added a little out and back stint down a side road that I had never been on to finish out at exactly 12 miles.

When I ran the first loop, it was overcast and I thought for sure I was going to get rained on.  I didn’t.  But I did meet a turtle on my way out of the parking lot.  And I found what was, quite possibly, the world’s longest hill.  I’m still not sure why, after a short break at the car to refill my water bottle, I decided to do it again.  On the second time around, the haze had lifted and the sun was shining.  It was humid and hot.  As I crested the world’s longest hill, I started to seek out shade where ever I could find it.  So I crossed to the other side of the street.  It was at that point that I saw some of the damage done by the most recent tornado to rip through Babler.  I had seen several trees down already, twisted and destroyed by the wind, but when I crossed over, I could see down into a ravine of pretty severe devastation.  I was shocked for a second that I hadn’t noticed it the first time.  How could I have missed that?!  But the truth was, I couldn’t see it from the other side of the street, just a few steps away.

That got me thinking, sometimes I get so focused on what is right directly in front of my face, that I become oblivious to things that really aren’t that far away.  I am guilty of being so intensely interested in my phone, or my laptop, that I don’t notice Silas getting into the fridge and pulling out the pitcher of fruit punch until it is spilling all over the floor.  (And then I get mad at him for not asking for help.  He probably did, and I just zoned out.)   Likewise, sometimes I get so focused on my Garmin that I forget to enjoy the path that I’m running.  Fortunately, yeterday was not like that.  It was hot, and a tough run, but I enjoyed it and appreciated it.  And I was thinking about another time recently that I was glad that I looked up to see what was going on around me.

The other day at work, I was sitting on the floor, fitting a customer for some running shoes, when an elderly couple walked in.  I greeted them with a “Hi, Welcome to FLEET FEET” and a big LJ smile.  Then I continued with my customer while Cole assisted the woman who strolled in with her walker, and her husband.  After several minutes, my customer had gone outside to run to try out a different pair of shoes, and I looked up from my fit app, to see this old man, on his knees, gently putting his wife’s stockings back on her feet.  I caught Cole’s eye, and we clearly had the same thought about how sweet it was that this man was humble enough to get down on the floor and do this for the woman he loved.

I’ve never been one to live life behind a camera.  In fact, at lot of times, I’ll look back at various events and think… I probably should have taken more pictures.  But something I have always made a point to do, is take mental snapshots.  I’m glad I looked beyond my fit bench the other day, to take a mental picture of that sweet man and his wife.  It was a good reminder that there are people who will do things like that for each other.  I’d like to think someday when my fingers are too arthritic to tie my own running shoes, that someone, whether it’s my kids or my friends or whoever, will be there willing to do it for me.  And until then, I’d like to be able to return the favor.

So, courtesy of yesterday’s run, I hope I will do a better job of remembering to look a little father outside of myself.  Run a different route, cross into unknown territory, take a look around and remember that there might just be something bigger and more extraordinary ahead, if I take the time to look up and see it.

Warning at the entrance of Babler

Warning at the entrance of Babler

Me and Steve and Steve’s Mom

Last weekend I spent 3 days basking in the glorious beauty of Vancouver, British Columbia with Steve and his mom, Dee.  It’s really too bad that Steve and I can’t get married because I can’t imagine a more perfect mother-in-law than Dee.  But given the circumstances, Steve will continue to be the main man in my life as my training buddy, my movie partner, and the Will to my Grace; and at least I get to be an honorary member of the Carrell family.  I really wouldn’t have it any other way.  We went to Capilano to cross the giant suspension bridge and play among the treetops of the rain forest.  We sat outside on the patio to have dinner at Water St. Café, overlooking the old Steam clock in Gastown.  We went up to the observation deck of the sightseeing tower and made a friend named Carl from Toronto.  We took the water taxi across the harbor to Granville Island for a tour of the market, some gelato and enjoyed the view while listening to live music.  We ate a variety of cuisines, including Japanese, Italian, Thai and Freshii burritos.  We briefly considered trying the Japadog street vendor, but ultimately decided better of it. We talked about taking a seaplane to Saskatchewan. (Or I did anyway, just because that’s fun to say.  Go on, say it.  It’s fun, right?)  We had absolutely perfect weather for our travels.  Not once did I have to pull out the umbrella I had tucked into my suitcase.

Oh, and I happened to run a marathon while we were there.  Every marathon has a story.  Vancouver 2013 was certainly no exception.

Frequently in life, you have to take the image that you’ve conjured up in your mind of how things are “supposed to be” and chuck it right out the window.  Once you do that, you are finally free to enjoy life.  I didn’t get married thinking, “Wow, maybe one day I’ll end up a divorced, single mom.  Won’t that be great?!”  Likewise, I didn’t go out to Vancouver last Friday thinking I wouldn’t BQ, PR, cross the finish line, whatever.  I had specific ideas of how that race was supposed to go.  But sometimes we have to come to the realization that Plan A isn’t working out.  So we skip to Plan B.  And eventually we end up on Plan Q.  But when we accept that maybe that was the best plan all along, things tend to go a little smoother.

Steve got to see me at the beginning of the Vancouver marathon, as he generously volunteered to escort me to the start to act as cheerleader, photographer, gear gatherer and just general brains of the operation since mine was preoccupied.  Steve can now tell you a little known fact about Lindsey…the only time I actually stop talking is when I’m nervous.  Sunday morning, I was nervous.  I was scared of the unknown.  I didn’t know if the race would go the way I wanted it too.  I was prepared for it to be hard, and I knew it was going to hurt, but I didn’t know how much.   But sometimes we just have to take that leap of faith down the path in front of us, and adapt to the twists, turns, hills and hurts as we go along, rather than having an expectation of how it “should” be.

The Vancouver marathon course was ultimately not the place for me to accomplish all the running goals that I’ve set for myself.  I didn’t hit the numbers I wanted to.  That was, without question, the hardest full marathon course I have ever encountered.  My St. Louis friends will understand what I mean when I say that Vancouver was like Baja on steroids.  And I did it on a record hot day in Canada.  I believe the high spiked to 80+ degrees on Sunday, which was especially weird since our flight out of Minneapolis was delayed on Friday due to de-icing during a blizzard.  I’ve come to the conclusion that Canada hates me.  At least as far as marathon weather is concerned.  As I’ve mentioned in the past, Quebec + Hurricane Irene = cancelled race; Vancouver + Heat wave = time killer.  It seems I can’t catch a break.  But as I’ve already come to learn with running, you can’t do anything about the weather, you just have to suck it up.  And remember to be smart.  Which is exactly what I did.

And by being smart, I don’t just mean paying attention to pace and not going out to fast…which I kind of did anyway despite my best efforts not to.  I also don’t mean the fact that I paid very close attention to staying hydrated and cooling off however I could.  Special thanks to the two guys in their yards with the garden hoses going and the girl with the spray bottle somewhere between mile 21 and mile 25.  That part of the race is a little hazy.

Being smart partly meant drawing energy from all the other runners in my life.  When a girl with an amazing voice sang the Canadian national anthem, I thought of Marxkors singing her own rendition to honor me in her bathroom at 5:30 in the morning.  As I weaved through the streets of Vancouver, I could hear Ken’s voice telling me, “Run the tangents, Girl”.  Every time I pulled a Gu out of my spybelt I thought of Faith as I read the labels she had printed up for me, that read things like, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” and “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength”.  When I saw a girl in my same red Riders, I thought of Nicole finishing up her marathon in Cincinnati.  When Nicky Minaj’s Starships came on my ipod, I thought of my Fleet Feet girrrrlz…Liz, Jess, Faith, Katrina.  When I wanted nothing more than to quit running all together and walk it out, I heard Jake saying “Just keep putting one foot in front of the other”.   I also realized when I tried to smile in order to numb the pain, that Jake is totally full of crap.  Which I probably should have known already anyway.  Of course, that thought made me laugh, which at least distracted me from the pain for a second or two.

As a random side note, other highlights of the race included the 80 year old Asian dude with the sign that read, “You’ve got Stamina.  Call me…maybe?”  Awesome.  Seeing Steve and Dee around mile 19, after I crossed the Burrard St. Bridge.  I traded my empty (and disgustingly sweaty) spybelt for a pack of Sports Beans.  (Note to self:  tucking a pack of sports beans into your sports bra for 6 miles is a really bad idea) And at Mile 22 when I hollered at a guy who was wearing a Fleet Feet St. Louis shirt while pointing to the matching logo on my own pink singlet as I passed him.  Did I really see him in Canada?  It was entirely possible that I was hallucinating, but I think he was wearing a visor.

However, this time, being smart mostly had to do with appreciating the opportunity I was given to run in Vancouver and soaking up everything about that experience.  After a very tough climb over Kilometers 10, 11 and 12, with an oddly misplaced water station nestled halfway up, I eventually crested the top of a hill (a really, really big hill) to reveal what was quite possibly the most spectacular scene I have ever been privy to in any marathon.  A breathtaking panoramic view of the snow-capped mountains, the bay below and a solitary flag donning the signature red maple leaf flapping in the breeze among a throng of evergreens.  If there is one moment from that race that will remain permanently etched in my memory, I hope it’s that one.  Because it was at that precisely that moment that I realized something.  Yes, I have goals and I will keep working toward them, Boston not excluded.  But while I may not be the fastest or the best runner in the world, there is one thing I am really good at.  Being Lindsey.  I know that I might slow down when I get tired, but I won’t quit.  I won’t ever give up.  Even when it’s hard, and it hurts, I will keep trudging on into the unknown, putting one foot in front of the other, and get the job done.   And I will appreciate the beauty surrounding me, even through the struggles and the pain.  I don’t want to take anything for granted.  Because all of that is what makes me who I am.

Whether I did it as fast as I wanted to or not, I ran 26.2 miles on Sunday.  That’s nothing to scoff at.  I ran a really hard course on a really hot day, and I did it in less than 4 hours.  That’s faster than any of the 4 times I’ve run the Chicago course, which is completely flat (except for the only hill in the city that they decided to stick in right at the end).  There ain’t no shame in what I accomplished on Sunday.

After I crossed the finish line and had a medal placed around my neck, Steve found me staggering down Thurlow Street.  I sat down right there in the middle of the street, exhausted and spent, after I declared to him, “You are never picking the course again!”  But in seriousness, I told him that even knowing what I know, I would still do it all over again.  It was a beautiful course.  It was a spectacular weekend. One might even say, majestic. I was completely overwhelmed by the love and support of my friends, and equally overwhelmed by the sense of peace in my heart while I was in Vancouver.  Steve was glad to hear this because having never seen me after a marathon, he was a little concerned I would be upset or disappointed in my time.  My response to that was, “You know me, I’m Lindsey.  I’m always going to find a reason to smile.”

That's the Burrard St. Bridge I got to run over

That’s the Burrard St. Bridge I got to run over

 

 

The Final Countdown…

The final hour is now upon us.  I leave for Vancouver in the wee hours of the morning.  I’m packed…well, sort of.  If you count an open suitcase on my bedroom floor with a pile of stuff thrown in that general vicinity over the past few days “packed”.  Should I be sleeping right now?  Probably.  Although, the chance of that being very successful tonight is unlikely.  Steve and I have been texting and the challenge is on to see which one of us will be asleep first when we get on that plane.

I’m ready for this.  I’ve trained hard for this race.  And now it’s time to trust my training.  I’m bib #2423 and I’m ready.  Did I already say that?  I need to keep reminding myself.

As is usually the case during the last week of the taper, I have begun to doubt myself.  I feel slow.  I go between feelings of “I can totally do this!” and “Can I really do this?” within a matter of seconds, it’s like the runners version of Bi-Polar.

I’ve seen all of my running peeps this week.  I’ve heard “You got this Girl” and “I believe in you” more times than I can count.  I’m gathering all the good vibes and mojo that I can.  I’ve been getting emails and texts wishing me the best.

My friend Katherine stopped by the store the other day with a present and a note.  The present was a pair of socks that say Badass.  Her note read: “Lindsey, Just a small reminder of all the hard work you put into training for Vancouver.  You have done all you can and you are ready.  Run strong, have fun and best wishes for a great race”.  I hope some of her speed rubs off on me.  This girl just ran a personal best of 3:17 at Boston, finishing early enough to claim her medal and get clear of the finish line before the nightmare began.

I got to run with Liz on Tuesday, who celebrated my last PR in December 2011 with a ballet slipper Christmas ornament (she couldn’t find a running shoe) since she was my Secret Santa.

Faith and I met this morning at Starbucks for our standing Thursday coffee date before we opened the store.  She had a present for me that included some of my favorite treats, an Awesome journal (seriously, it’s called The Journal of Awesome) and sticker labels of inspirational quotes to put on my GU’s for the race.

Marxkors came by the store today, just to give me a good luck hug and rub some of her speed on me.  And I finally had her sign my copy of her book, The Lola Papers, which I plan to read on the flight tomorrow, if I can stay awake.  I’ve read her inscription a couple times, but it keeps making me cry.

I ran with Nicole after work.  It seemed appropriate for us to run together one last time before we head off to our separate marathons in different parts of the world, since we did so many of our training runs together.  We got in a quick 3 miles this afternoon in the humidity.  We talked race apparel, nutrition, strategy, pace.  We both feel just a little better knowing that we’ll be running a marathon on the same day, even though with the time change I will be starting about the time she is done.   Both of us running in matching red Riders.

I think the only person who I didn’t see this week, that I felt like I should have, in order to bring the whole thing full circle, was Nick, since all of this started at his birthday dinner back in December when Steve said, “I think I’m going to run Vancouver for my birthday”.  Unfortunately, I don’t think Steve will even be able to run me into the finish, but he’ll be waiting to celebrate with me when I’m done.  Nick’s and my last text exchange went like this:

Nick: Rock that marathon.  You’ve trained hard and earned a PR.

RRG: I haven’t earned it yet, but I’m gonna give it my best shot.

One of the best things that any of my friends said to me this week was “It’s impossible to really feel pain when you’re smiling”.  I’m going to hold on to that at Mile 17, or 18, or 19, or 20, or whenever I hit the wall.  And I’m going to smile.  Because that’s what Rambling Runner Girl does when she’s running.

I ran 16 in the rain, 17 in the cold with some sleet, 18 in a blizzard, 19 in wind and 20 in heat and humidity.  Welcome to marathon training in the Midwest!  I’m ready for any weather Canada decides to throw at me.  Of course, I’ve said that before…thanks, Hurricane Irene.  The forecast in Vancouver is calling for much warmer temps than the average for this time of year, a high of 75!  What?!  55 and sunny at the start, let’s hope it doesn’t heat up too much.

This 26.2 means a lot. I’m going to push myself. It’s going to be hard.  But it’s supposed to be hard.  If it was easy, everyone would do it. I’m prioritizing my goals as good/better/best.

Good: A PR, anything better than 3:47:11.

Better: Beating my old BQ time before the BAA dropped the times, anything better than 3:45:59.

Best: BQ, faster than 3:40.  That’s a tall order.  But this is a new day.  I’m a new girl.  Both figuratively and literally, since this is my first marathon ever as Lindsey Jacobs.  Ultimately, I just want to go run a great race and be happy crossing the finish because I laid it all on the line.  In the words of Pre, “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift”.

But here’s the big question…what do I have to lose by believing that I can accomplish all that I want to in this race?  Even if I don’t accomplish all of it, it doesn’t mean I can’t, it just means I didn’t this time.  So I will believe that I can.  And I will go after it.  With all of my heart and everything I have I will go after that 3:39:59.

Today, as I left out the back door of the store, sweaty from my run with Nicole, I heard Faith yell “Get ‘er done!” and AJ followed that with “Break a Leg…are we supposed to say that?”  The point is this…regardless of what the final result is on Sunday, I have never felt so loved and supported in any of my marathons before this one.  I have a phenomenal cheering section.  And that is better than any race shirt, or finisher’s gear, or medal I could ever earn.  My people…that’s my real PR.

Some of the items to go in my carry on

Some of the items to go in my carry on