13 and Running in Red Riders

I had a post all set to load earlier before I went into work, but I ran out of time. In light of today’s events, I feel like there are a few other things I need to say instead.

Wow. Just wow. Happiness is walking into work and finding a free pair of brand new, bright blue Nike Free 3.0 waiting for you. Heartbreak is having a customer walk in a few minutes later and ask if you heard about the explosion at the finish line of the biggest running event in the world, which resulted in deaths and injuries of runners and spectators. Tragic. Absolutely devastating.

I’m grateful to report that I have, in some form or another, heard from everyone I know that was running today when the explosion occurred at the end of the Boston Marathon.

I still don’t know very many of the details, but here is what I do know. This sucks. The fact that anything as glorious as the Boston Marathon and all that it stands for is now tarnished by this tragedy is absolutely horrible. We all know that I’m a crier, and just because I was at work all afternoon/evening, doesn’t change that fact. Every post I read, every story I heard, all brought more tears. My friend Flavia posted this: And just when you think it can’t get any worse…Relatives of Sandy Hook Massacre victims were VIP guests at the finish line tent, where the bombing occurred. The theme of this year’s marathon was “26 Miles for 26 Victims.” That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Something that was meant to give hope, just re-victimized those people who have already suffered so much.

I can’t believe any of this. I can’t fathom what it would be like to have the experience of living my dream of crossing the finish line at the Boston Marathon, only to have that experience shattered by a bomb going off, and potentially losing a limb. Not being able to run again. Or worse, losing a loved one.

I tried to be there today. When I went to Quebec in 2011, I went with the intention of qualifying for Boston and the possibility of being there today. That marathon in Quebec is the one that got cancelled courtesy of Hurricane Irene. Then I went to Dallas. I ran the race of my life and fell just short of qualifying. That would have gotten me to Boston today. I wanted to try again last year in Chicago, but I sprained an ankle 3 weeks out and I knew my hopes were shot. My Smoky Mountain teammates might even remember me saying last year that this year I wanted to run Boston and then drive down to NC to run our relay 4 days later (That’s right, I leave for NC on Thursday and I’m sure we’ll come up with a way to honor the victims of Boston at SMR). None of that had even occurred to me until I got this message from Jess: “Glad you weren’t at Boston this year! God works in mysterious ways!!” Oh my goodness, yes, I was desperately trying to be there this year, but something kept standing in my way. Maybe its coincidence, but I believe it’s something bigger. I always say that everything happens for a reason. I know my time in Boston is coming, but now I’m so thankful it was not today.

Here is the message I have for the person or people who did this: You have tarnished something beautiful today. You have grieved my heart and the hearts of my friends in the running community worldwide. But we are not afraid to keep running and we will not let you steal our joy. We will continue to do what we love and we will be united in that.

I can’t say it any better than what my friend Megan posted: It is the men and women running toward the chaos that bring hope…

My thoughts and prayers go out to everyone affected by this horrible tragedy today. xoxo…

On a lighter note, if you feel so inclined, here is the piece I originally planned to post…

RUNNING IN RED RIDERS

I’ve been severely out of sorts this past week. Which explains why RRG has been uncharacteristically quiet. It’s a combination of a hormonal imbalance, a completely crazy ridiculous schedule with a bunch of random life interferences thrown in and a series of bad workouts. But…I’m Back, Baby! My mojo has been missing for a while, but I found it on Saturday. I’m sure my Smoky Mountain Relay teammates will be happy to know that, seeing as our race starts THIS Friday!!!

Remember Dorothy’s ruby slippers in the Wizard of Oz? Well, here are my new ruby slippers…

RRG’s Ruby Slippers

Red Mizuno Riders. Dorothy was right, there is NO place like home. I’m ashamed to say that my first marathon was completed in a pair of cheap, crappy, worn out shoes from Famous Footwear. GAAAHHHH! Did I really just admit that?! It’s a miracle I didn’t get injured, and another miracle that I decided to do it all again. 6 more times and counting. I treated myself to some “real” running shoes shortly after that first round with the Chicago marathon in 2001. That was my very first pair of Mizunos. I’ve been running mostly in Mizunos pretty much ever since, careful to replace them every six months or so, until last year, when I put myself in a pair of the Brooks Glycerin 10. I love my Glycerins but a couple weeks ago I went out for a run at Babler and my shins were killing me. My body was telling me it was time for new shoes. One of the great things about working at a running store is that I have easy access to trying lots of different shoes. And ultimately, I ended up right back where I belong, Mizunos, which just feel like…home.

If you read about my 20 miler last Monday, you know how awful that was. On Thursday when I ran 6 with Nicole at Queeny, I was resisting the urge to puke the entire run. Of course, that probably had something to do with the Chick-Fil-A I ate just an hour before. We’ll chalk that up to a lesson learned the hard way. Then, later on Thursday I went off to lead the social run and ran 4 more miles with Nick. I’m not sure which one of us was hurting more though, because at one point I felt like I was pulling him along, which doesn’t ev-errrr happen. I topped out for 10 on the day, but none of those miles felt particularly good.

And swimming last week? Well, that was a total disaster. I was having so much anxiety in my life that I already felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. Not a good state to be in when you jump in the water. I think I barely managed 500 meters and at one point I was so frustrated with myself I ended up at the end of the lane with my head on my arms, clinging to the side of the pool, sobbing. Rambling Runner Girl turned into Crying Swimmer Girl. Or as Steve said when I told him that story, “Lately you are Crying Everything Girl.” Seems that way sometimes, doesn’t it?

So, after a rough week of workouts and life in general, it felt so good to go out for a run Saturday morning before work and feel like I was finally getting back to being the girl that I know I am. I was also reflecting on the things that had gotten me down over the past week. Seeing how I got through all of that made me realize just how far I’ve come over the last year.

So, here’s the question: Is it really all about the shoes? Well, I work in a shoe store, so the obvious answer is Yes! But it’s also about the person wearing the shoes and what they do with what they’ve got. The shoes aren’t going to run themselves. There are times where you just have to put on whatever shoes you can find and get the job done, but once you learn to do that, it makes it so much better when the shoes really fit.

During my run on Saturday, I was listening to the Rascal Flatts song Unstoppable. “You find your faith has been lost and shaken, you take back what’s been taken, get on your knees and dig down deep, you can do what you think is impossible…”

Over the past several years, my faith was lost and shaken. By that, I primarily mean my faith in myself. But slowly I’ve been rebuilding that. I am taking back what’s been taken. It’s hard, and I’ve had to dig really deep, but I’ve been willing to do that and I’ve learned that I really can do what I used to think was impossible.

While I was out for that Saturday morning run, I felt like I was sliding effortlessly across the blacktop, kind of like I was flying, in my red Mizuno Riders and it made me think about something my friend Luke said to me a while back. Luke is one of my best, best, best friends from High School. Which means that, obviously, we’ve known each other for approximately…a very long time. He has seen me conquer countless battles in life and he’s been there through a lot of heart aches. He was also my Homecoming date Senior year since nobody else wanted to take the weird girl who cries all the time and only talks about running. As things have finally started to fall into place with my life, I feel like I am finally getting my groove back and I told Luke that I felt like I was soaring. His response was “Babe, you’ve always been soaring. You just didn’t realize how high you could go!”

He’s absolutely right. And I think it’s finally time for me to find out.

Total Bonk

Bonk. We’ve all been there at one time or another. Wikipedia describes “bonk” or “hitting the wall” as a condition that endurance athletes face when glycogen stores are depleted and this manifests as sudden fatigue. I describe it as those moments when I’m running and I want nothing more than to lie down right where I am, with my cheek to the ground and never move ever again. Not even if someone offered me a million dollars. But knowing that if I do cave to that temptation, I will lay there in the fetal position until wild animals come to drag off my rotting carcass.

Today I had to do a 20 mile training run. Total bonk. I knew by the time I reached the end of my driveway it was going to be rough. My body was tired, I hadn’t carb loaded appropriately and it was hot. Trust me, I am NOT complaining about the heat, I’m just sayin’. It was a delightful change from what we have grown accustomed to this spring. But my body hasn’t had time to adapt to the humidity. Seriously, last week when I did 19, I was wearing gloves. And today I had to stop at 4 different places to refill my water bottle. Welcome to marathon training in the Midwest.

I tried everything to enjoy running today, but it just didn’t happen. I listened to the words of each song on my ipod, hoping that something would inspire me. But it seems that the line I heard at only a tenth of a mile in kept replaying over and over in my head. “Life ain’t a track meet, it’s a marathon.” I’m not even going to tell you what song that’s from because then I have to admit to the trashy, inappropriate music I listen to. I’m sure some of you will google the lyrics out of sheer curiosity, don’t judge me.

When my Garmin beeped at mile 4, my body said, “Are you kidding me?! We have to do that 4 more times?!” My brain said, “Yep! And we’re gonna be that much stronger for it.”

At the point where I finally got to turn around and head home, I celebrated, for about half a second, before I realized “Holy Schnikes! I have to do it all again.”

With 3 miles left to go, I was like, “3 miles. What’s the big deal? That’s a 5k, we can whip that out no problem.” Except for the fact that by that point, my pace had slowed nearly to a crawl and I began to wonder if I would even finish by dark. (I started at approximately 10:30am) I had eaten a pack of Cran-apple Gu Chomps, a Berry Blast Powerbar Gel and almost an entire package of watermelon Sports Beans. And yet, my body felt depleted, drained and dead.

1.9 miles to go, I walked long enough to eat the last 4 sportsbeans. Keep going.

Only .7 miles left, I stopped at Mobile on the run to fill up my waterbottle that was completely empty, again. Could I have made it the rest of the way without more liquids? Probably, but I needed water (and a 30 second break) to boost my morale.

You know you’re tired when you think to yourself, “The faster you run, the sooner you’re done” but you just can’t make your body move any quicker.

I finished my 20 miler at the end of my street, but I wasn’t home yet, so I kept running, or shuffling rather, until I got to my house. 20.23 total miles for the day. Ouch. I hurt.

Sometimes when physical strength fails, we have to rely on mental toughness. Mental toughness is when our brain convinces us to do something that we really, really don’t want to. My brain made my body keep moving when I really didn’t think I had the physical capability to keep going. It’s important to listen to our bodies, if there is an injury or some logical reason to stop running, we should. But “I’m tired” and “It’s hot”, those are not reasons. We have to train our bodies to go farther and faster, and we have to train our brains to see through the excuses our bodies make when they hurt. My brain got me through that run today. My brain, and my heart. I’ve said it many times, where I lack in ability and speed, I make up for it with determination and heart. I know what I need to do and I get it done. Today was no exception.

Just go one more mile. Just get up this hill. Just make it to that fire hydrant. Just go one more step. And another. And another. Some days are just like that.

On my way in to work this afternoon, armed with Ibuprofen, GU Brew Recovery and CEP sleeves, I got a phone call that I didn’t need to come in thanks to the Cardinals who demanded the attention of the vast majority of West County St. Louis today. Oh, Praise the Lord, I have never been so happy to live in St. Louis on the day of the home opener in the Lou. So, what did I do? I took the rest of the day off. And I went to get a pedicure. I think I earned it. The best part? The color I picked is called “It’s my year”. Heck yeah it is.

So what else can I say about that brutal, painful, grueling 20 mile run today? Two words: Bragging rights.

This is how RRG wrote today’s post

Stories You Didn’t Know About GO!

Today I made a good decision. It was a hard decision, but a good one. Today was the GO! St. Louis marathon and half marathon. I had the opportunity to run the half, and I wanted to. I really wanted to. If you’ve read many of my posts, you may have noticed that I love racing. This week I considered getting up before the sun to run the half this morning and then, literally, racing to work. I thought about going out and doing it nice and easy, “for fun”. But I know me. I don’t do anything nice and easy. I would have thrown myself into it, because that’s what I do, in pretty much every aspect of my life. What can I say? I’m kind of passionate like that.

I’ve got so much adrenaline building for my two big upcoming races. Between those, my failed racing attempt on St. Patrick’s Day, and a missed race in February….I would have gone out of the gates guns blazin’! That would not have been smart. So, this week as I mulled over the idea of racing today, I ultimately listened to my head and did the right thing. I decided not to risk injury. I decided to save myself for MY races. My day is coming, I just need to be patient (something I have a reeeeeeally hard time doing).

This blog is typically about my own personal running adventures, but this weekend I had so many friends racing that I have to share some stories. These are some of the people who inspire me and push me to keep doing what I love…

My Smoky Mountain Relay teammates, Ken and Jordan didn’t run the GO! They ran the Xenia Marathon in Ohio. Ken had a huge PR of 3:15, placing 12^th; Jordan ran 2:49 and took 3^rd overall.

Barb Delgado ran the GO! Half in 1:32:55, taking home a 2^nd place age group award.

Carl Bost finished his second marathon. He has cut himself to half of his former size. If he keeps running marathons, he might disappear.

Two years ago, John Tvrdic, didn’t understand my running addiction or how I could get up at the crack of dawn to log the long miles and now he has officially been bitten by the running bug. How many Halfs is that now JT? And when is the first full???

Lindsey Harris ran back to back half marathons this weekend, the Lincoln Half on Saturday and the GO! on Sunday. Lindsey ran to let the past be the sound of her feet upon the ground. Carry on, Girl, carry on…

Douang, whose comments are scattered all over the pages of my blog and I absolutely love her for it, ran her first half marathon today and I know she was thinking of the sweet baby she lost way too soon.

Courtney, Nicole, Wes, Kris, Teri, Tracy, Megan, Chris, Julie, Laura, Brian, Andrea, Rick, Adam and probably several others that I didn’t even realize were out there. Some ran the half, some ran the full, some ran the relay as part of a team. It wasn’t about the distance; it was about doing what unites us as runners. And feeling like we are a part of something bigger than ourselves.

Speaking of being a part of something bigger…Chris Smaglis, Caleb Baldwin, John Hull, Katie Poland, Adrienne Beer and Judy West, along with so many others, ran to raise money for Team Living Water. Living Water is an organization that provides wells for clean drinking water in communities all around the world. But even more than that, they provide hope for the hopeless. Saturday evening I sat in church with yellow jersies scattered throughout the room. I was sitting next to Caleb; he was wearing his yellow jersey and a hat that had been signed by all the people who donated to Living Water through his efforts. Caleb wore that hat while he raced today and now it will travel to the project that he ran for so the people who will receive water from this team will know some of the names of the people who sponsored them.

My dad always said, “Surround yourself with good people”. It’s obvious that I have. These are my friends. I wouldn’t necessarily say they are always a good influence on me (ie-Nicole heckled me for my decision to practice self-control and not race today) But, like I said, these are the people who inspire me to keep doing what I love. It’s not just about going out and winning. It’s about pushing yourself to accomplish your own personal goals, whatever they might be. There are so many reasons we race. Ask any one of us on any given race day and chances are you’ll get a different answer. Sometimes it’s about running for yourself, running to heal a hurt, running to remember someone, running to raise money for someone who needs something. Sometimes we run just because we are so grateful that we can.

Tomorrow I have a 20 mile training run to do. I won’t be physically surrounded by all of these people, I probably won’t even see anyone I know while I’m running. But I know without a doubt, it will be thoughts of them, and the inspiration they are to me, that will be pulling me through each one of those 20 miles.

One way or another, next April I plan to listen to my heart and I hope to be rocking a yellow jersey of my own…

RRG logged 5 miles today while the GO! was GOing on…

Chasing My Shadow

A couple weeks ago, my friend Amy Marxkors, wrote a piece about how you can’t run and cry at the same time. I assure you, this is correct. I speak from personal experience. Personal experience as recently as this afternoon.

I’ve been having a rough week. So rough in fact that when I met Faith for coffee this morning prior to opening the store, it didn’t take more than a minute or so after her walking in, and I was dissolved in tears in the front window of Starbucks as I shared my woes with my friend.

I managed to pull myself together eventually and put on my happy pants while I was at work, but as soon as the clock hit 2pm, I knew I needed to get my run on. I needed to find me some hills. Off to Babler I went for a quick 4 miles before I had to pick the kids up from school. As I cruised down 109 towards one of my favorite running spots, the tears began to cruise down my face all over again. I could hear Faith’s words from this morning ringing in my ears, “Lindsey, I know it’s hard, but you are so brave.” I pulled into my usual parking spot by the statue, changed my shoes, threw on my visor and set out on my usual “bad day route” with mascara still streaking my face. It didn’t take more than a step or two for me to figure out that crying was just not in the cards if I wanted to get this run in.

I’m sure curiosity is peaked…why had Rambling Runner Girl turned into Crying Runner Girl? Well, I’ll tell you. But first I have to ask the question, why is it so hard to say the word “No”? It’s one of the first words we learn to say, right after Da, Ma, ball, dog and car. Sometimes even before some of those. And toddlers use “No” more than any other word in their rapidly growing vocabulary. Actually, so do some adults who act like toddlers. “No” is universal in how many different languages? And even cultures that use a different word for “No”, still clearly understand what it means. We also have many different gestures to indicate “No”, some more appropriate than others. But at what point, did it become so difficult for me to say No?

I’m a pleaser. I like to make other people happy. And I deeply take to heart other people’s feeling when I’m making a decision. Especially when those people are my children. But as a parent, sometimes it’s necessary to say “No” to things they want, or that other people want for them, because we have their best interest in mind. We can’t please everyone all the time, so we really just have to do the best we can, to make the decision that we can live with at the end of the day.

A few weeks ago I was asked to make a decision about something regarding my kids. I wrestled with it. I struggled. I did my research. I talked through it with the people closest to me. Ultimately, I knew what my answer needed to be, but I knew it was going to be hard to say it. Last night, I said it. I exercised my right to say no.

This morning, I needed to hear Faith’s words, because I was doubting myself. I didn’t feel brave. But as she reminded me, I’m not the same person she met 2 years ago. Now, I am brave. Because to me being brave isn’t about being fearless. Being brave means standing up to adversity and intimidation with conviction and fortitude. Being brave means getting back up when I fall down. Being brave means saying what I need to say whether I say it in a whisper or a shout or even if my voice is shaking. I continued to let all of this sink into me as I embraced the rolling hills of Babler this afternoon.

By the end of my run, I noticed the graceful way my shadow seemed to glide across the asphalt, such smooth movements, almost like I was flying. It was actually kind of beautiful to watch. It’s funny how I was working so hard to put one foot in front of the other, sweating, struggling, pushing myself to go harder but from a totally different perspective my counter-part appeared to be going along with such ease. So there we were, two of me. Which one was real? Both actually.

It’s all a matter of perspective. Sometimes we just need to step back and look at ourselves from another angle, because sometimes we see ourselves a little too closely. So I will go on chasing my own shadow and I’ll try to remember that the “me” that is fighting to keep going is the same “me” that is graceful and courageous and strong.

Does this shadow make my butt look big?

19 Miles, or something…

Today was a weird day. I ran 19 miles. On a Tuesday. Who does that? Well, I do. Since I didn’t do a long run last weekend, and this was a rare Tuesday that I didn’t have my kids, I figured why not throw a long run in mid-week. Of course, those 19 miles were basically all I did today. I had every intention of getting to swimming this morning too, but when I got the email that practice was cancelled due to some bad water, I decided to roll over and go back to sleep. Which was a fantastic idea in theory, except that my neighbors’ roofers didn’t approve of that plan. I tried for a while, but eventually gave up and dragged my butt downstairs for some quality time on the couch with my book and a cup of coffee. I did make a quick trip to the post office later to mail a letter, because yes, sometimes people actually still do that. And I hit the grocery store since my kids come back to me tomorrow and I had almost nothing to feed them. But other than that, all I can really say for today is 19 miles.

19 miles. No rain. No snow. Again, weird. It seems like so many of my long runs lately have been under the duress of less than ideal weather conditions. However, I am very much looking forward to the days of not having to check the weather on my phone 15 times in making a decision on what to wear. Will I be over-dressed? Will I be under-dressed? Any special accessories like tornado-proof shoes? These hovering cooler temps are getting really old. I’m so ready to run in shorts and sleeveless all the time, and God help me, I will not complain about the heat this summer.

I started my run today by myself. I like running by myself, so that’s no big deal. But after 13.32 miles, I was definitely ready for some company. Fortunately, I already had a group to meet. We did a team outing for the new FLEET FEET that is getting ready to open in Des Peres later this month and we ran the social run course that I will have the shared privilege of leading every other week, just like I already do in Chesterfield. I could not be more excited about it! But, like I was saying after a little more than 13 miles on my own, the company was more than welcome. We ran the 5 mile course, which is incredibly hilly, completely the opposite of the Chesterfield social run that is on the levee and flat as a pancake. Mmmmm, pancakes…

After my solitary 13 through the hills of Wildwood, I was thrilled at the nice slow pace set by the 6 month pregnant chick and the injured dude. The last time Adam and I ran together was a trail half marathon where he got injured. We finished just seconds apart and he ended up with a 3^rd place age group award, I got nothing. How is that fair?! Well, I guess it’s not exactly fair that he’s been injured either.

As we finished up the group run, I asked in my always too loud Lindsey voice, “Who wants to run this last .7 with me to round out my 19?!” Not surprisingly, I didn’t have any takers. They said, just run up the road to the bar, we’ll meet you there. Which is exactly what I did. And then I proceeded to throw down with a cheeseburger and fries like nobody’s business. And a couple of Courtney’s hot wings. Boy, some pancakes sure sound good right now…

Like I’ve already mentioned, it was a weird day. There’s a season for everything right? Sometimes we need to do things on our own and sometimes we need others to help pull us through. I thought it was interesting that I finished those 19 miles alone, just as I had started. But, that wasn’t the part about today that was ultimately so weird. 2 years ago today, I felt more alone than I ever have in my entire life. I was at the absolute rockiest part of the bottom. Things couldn’t get any worse. I knew my marriage was over. And the possibility loomed that my life was too. I was telling a friend today about some of the stuff I was dealing with then, and in response to the question, “How do you even begin to let go of all that pain?” this is how I answered: You spend 29 days under a blanket wanting life to just go away, that’s rock bottom. And then, you come to the realization that your entire life you’ve been a survivor. You’ve survived everything that’s been thrown your way. So you slowly start to pick up the pieces and go forward. Its slow steps at first, but eventually you find yourself running toward freedom. And when you finally get there, it’s amazing.

That’s kind of how I feel at the end of every run. No matter how tired I am, or how slow I’m dragging myself along, at least the last few steps, something stirs and I am able to muster the strength to run like I haven’t just put 19 miles behind me. Because I am a survivor. I feel like I am a running to that feeling of freedom and I’ve made it. It is amazing. Especially when you get to the end and you get to celebrate with the awesome people who kept you company along the way. A couple years, or even a couple miles, can make all the difference in the world.

For some reason, after all that, I’ve got a hankering for some pancakes. Geesh, you’d think I just ran 19 miles, or something.

Adam and RRG post race

Leg 19

It was gorgeous out today. Hard to believe that just a week ago I was running in a blizzard resulting in a foot of snow. The snow has all melted and it appears that maybe Spring has finally arrived. Well, hold that thought, we have a chance for flurries tomorrow. Seriously?!

Well, today I took advantage of the beautiful day. I went for trail run and muddied up a brand new pair of New Balance 1010s. It was awesome. Pretty much the whole time I was running I was thinking about one of my upcoming races. The Smoky Mountain Relay is less than 3 weeks away and I could not be more excited. As I ran some tough hills today, it was the thought of repeating Leg 19 in a few weeks that pushed me up those inclines.

The SMR is a 215 mile relay through the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. It’s typically a 6 or 12 person team, last year we were 9. I got pulled on to the team by Jordan and his wife Jan, who both worked at FLEET FEET. Jordan was looking for more people to add to the team at the same time I was looking to try something totally different with running. I figured, this is something I want to try, it sounds really cool, so sure, why not? One and done, right? Wrong.

As we got closer to the race, I had a chance to meet the other St. Louis based team members. We skyped with the guys we had picked up from the race website to join our team. We totally scored picking up 2 guys from Utah, who are not only awesome people and amazing athletes, but Mark owns a house near the finish where we all stayed. And will again, even though Mark won’t be with us this time due to the impending arrival of his third child. Not all of my teammates have their priorities in order since they have not planned these things around SMR, but I guess we’ll forgive it since he lets us use his house.

Ken and Jordan started putting together a rough draft of leg assignments. The nice thing about SMR is that you don’t have to stay in any particular order, you can jump around in the line-up however it suits you. The first draft came out and I started scanning it. My first leg: 4 miles, easy. Second leg, same. What is this?! Just cause I’m a girl they are going to give me only easy legs. This is stupid. And then I saw it. The only leg labeled “Very Hard” was given to yours truly. Sweet! Well, I said I like to run uphill, so they let me have it. 5.5 miles up a 2500 foot incline on gravel about halfway through the race which puts us somewhere in the middle of the night. I was pretty stoked that my team had entrusted me with this leg of the race.

Each team starts according to ability and projected time based on 10k time trials for each team member. When I did my 10k last year to see what I was capable of, it was the first time I’ve ever broken 50 minutes. And that was just me, out on the road, getting it done. Put me in a race setting and I’m capable of even more. I’ve since had the chance to prove it. In October, I crushed that when I finished in 48:30, taking home a 2^nd place age group award at the Gumbo Flats 10k.

But anyway, we were one of the last teams to start because we were expected to be pretty fast. At the start line, there were some announcements. One of them was this-Leg 19 had been declared one of the hardest legs in any overnight relay in the country, so we were given the choice to opt out of it. My team started looking around, who has Leg 19? I said, “I do. That’s my leg. And I’m doing it. We came to do this and we’re not opting out of anything!”

And so we began the race. Jan started us off and ran a loop through the park, and then Matt continued our trek into the mountains. Some legs were on the road, some were on trails. Some were flat to easy rolling hills, some were intense uphill all the way, some were steep downhills.

I did my first leg, about 4 miles on the road. Other than a couple dogs chasing me, it was no sweat. On the way to my second leg, Craig had to drive like a maniac because of the potential for the van route to take longer than the runner getting to the exchange point. It lived up to its potential. Despite Craig’s driving, and me almost falling out of the van pantless, Mark still beat us. And he kept on running. So when we caught up to him, he said, “Can I please finish this leg? I feel really good”. I jumped back in the van, feeling totally dejected and announced, “I’m stealing Jan’s leg.” So, literally, I took the following leg from Jan. There is nothing worse than having your adrenaline all amped up and then being told to chill. That leg was a fairly easy 4 miler, except that it was dusk and by the end of that leg it was so dark I almost fell into the abyss because I couldn’t see anything.

Finally, at something like 2am, it was my turn to really get after it. Leg 19. Here we go. That leg was a beast. Aside from the fact that it was pitch black and I could see nothing farther than the 5-10 feet in front of me, thanks to my headlamp, it was very much a never ending hill, or so it seemed. I kept thinking about Jordan’s words, “It doesn’t matter how slow you go, just don’t stop.” At only one point did I get about a 10 step break from going uphill, a very brief plateau and then back up. My teammates had asked what I needed in terms of support. I said, wait for me at about 2 miles up and we’ll go from there. They waited. When I got there, Ken gave me Gatorade and some encouragement. I don’t know if it was my ego or being delirious, but I remember talking smack, saying “This is nothin. I own this mountain.” They went up a couple more miles, and waited again at a weird turn. When I saw them again, I was no longer talking smack. I was no longer talking. I was barely breathing. Then they said, “See you at the top” and they were gone. I finally got to the sign that said I only had a half mile to go. Yessss! But according to my Garmin, I still had about a mile and a half. Hmmm…that’s weird. Turns out some kids had moved the sign down the mountain in an effort to be funny. Not. Cool. I kept climbing, slowly, so slowly. At one point I wanted to see how dark it really was, so I covered my head lamp for a sec, uh, yeah, it was total blackness. I was having a mental battle with myself, “I want to walk. No I don’t. Yes I do. No I don’t”. Then the mist started and it got so foggy, I could barely see my hand in front of my face. And just as it seemed I would NEVER get there, I could hear Nate O cheering me on and he slowly came into view. Oh thank you sweet Jesus, I made it!

On April 18, a carload of us will make the roadtrip to NC. And some time during the wee hours of April 20, I will have another go at Leg 19. I am determined to do it even better and stronger than last year. Because I am better and stronger than I was last year. You may not know this about me, but I’m not typically one to back down from a challenge. Leg 19, I’m coming for you. Again.

RRG…smiling at the top. This is why Nathan A has given me the nickname “Leg 19”

What’s Your Dream?

Anybody who has ever seen the movie Pretty Woman should remember the line where the guy says “Welcome to Hollywood! What’s your dream?! Everyone who comes to Hollywood gots to have a dream…”

It’s true. We all have dreams. I am notorious for having very vivid and really weird dreams, and I inevitably remember the ones that are excessively strange, like when I was pregnant with Ally and I dreamt I was riding a giant chicken. What the heck is that about?! But that’s not exactly what I’m referring to here. I’m really talking about the things that we hope for, that kind of dream. Some dreams are realistic like, I dream of eating pizza and ice cream this weekend, and that Michigan State will win against Duke tomorrow night…not completely out of the realm of possibility. Other dreams are completely fanciful, like dreaming I will win the Ironman championships in KONA someday. Ummmm, not likely.

I do have a real dream. Ok, I have lots of dreams actually. I have a dream that someday I will go to Ireland and rent a little cottage for a month or two so I can start writing my book. I’ll tour the Irish countryside and drink beer with the locals. And I’ll become a best-selling author. I have a dream that someday, someone will present me with one of those pretty, little blue boxes from Tiffany’s. I have a dream I’ll get to visit my friend Jess in Australia and dive the Great Barrier Reef. And, despite the fact that I’ve denied it for fear of admitting it, I have a dream of being in love again. Preferably with someone who is also in love with me. I guess only time will tell…

But since I am Rambling Runner Girl, let’s talk about my running dreams. I have a dream that someday I might qualify for the Boston Marathon. And that leads to a dream of actually running the Boston Marathon. When I ran my first marathon in 2001, I had absolutely no thoughts of this particular dream. I dreamt only of crossing the finish line in Chicago and living to tell about it. However, as my running career progressed, so did my dreams. I got faster. I broke 4 hours. I keep inching closer and closer to the possibility of a BQ (Boston Qualifier for those less integrated into the running world). And just as I got right within reach, the Boston Athletic Association went and lowered the times needed to qualify. Now, I’m no longer just a minute away from my qualifying time. No, now I have to drop at least 7 minutes and 12 seconds from my fastest marathon time. Big sigh…

When my friend, Steve decided to run the Vancouver marathon in May to complete his first full, and I so graciously invited myself to join him, we talked about both of us running fast enough to get me that BQ for HIS birthday (his bday is the day before the race). We were sitting at Nick’s birthday dinner at Drunken Fish eating sushi and drinking Dirty Martinis as this whole conversation took place (well, Nick and I were drinking martinis, Steve was likely drinking Diet Dr. Pepper) and then I went home and registered for Vancouver that night. I guess you could say I like to make a big deal of my friends’ birthdays.

Tonight I led the social run at the store, but it wasn’t the same. Steve wasn’t there. At least not for the run. He showed up later to hang out with all of us afterward, but he is unfortunately injured. The other day I got the following text from Steve: “I am so %#&$* for Vancouver”. The sad reality is I might be taking on the Vancouver course on my own. I’m not sure if that sucks more for me or him. It sucks for me, cause I was hoping he would pull me along fast enough to get under that 3:40 mark. But it sucks for him because despite his best efforts, he keeps getting injured and that 26.2 keeps eluding him altogether. Yeah, ok, it probably sucks more for him. At least I get to make the attempt.

I’m still hopeful that Steve will be running with me that day, in some capacity. Even if we don’t run the whole race together, I’m hoping that he’ll be there at some point to celebrate with me, just like he has at so many other points over the past year.

So, I will go on about my training for Vancouver. And I will hope that Steve will be well enough to, at the very least, run me into the finish. Many things have to come together on May 5 for me to live a dream…the weather, remaining injury free, pacing myself just right, remembering all my gear, not wearing shoes that come untied (Stupid Kinvaras. Ok, so that was probably the fault of me, not the shoes), and avoiding any other freak things getting in the way. So, we’ll see. If nothing else, I will keep chipping away at my goal. I may hit it. I may not. But I’ll go enjoy a good, long run through beautiful British Columbia. Whether I get that 3:39:59 or not, I’m still going to keep trying to achieve it. And eventually I might get to realize that dream. Someday…

Steve, RRG, Nick and Dan enjoying some post run Froyo

I Don’t Want To Be

Today, after I left swimming, I hopped into the car and heard the Gavin Degraw song “I Don’t Want To Be” on the radio. Which is, by the way, an awesome song.

“I don’t want to be anything other than what I’ve been trying to be lately

All I have to do is think of me and I have peace of mind

I’m tired of looking round rooms wondering what I’ve gotta do or who I’m supposed to be

I don’t want to be anything other than me”

That song made me think about a conversation I had last night when I met a friend for a drink after work. Chris and I were talking about the fact that after going through a divorce, you are kind of left stripped of the need to impress people all the time. Divorce teaches you first hand that you will never be able to please everyone all the time so you might as well surrender the need to try. You learn how to be more true to yourself than you’ve ever been. You’re kind of left with this mentality of “This is who I am. You can take it or leave it, but I’m done trying to be something I’m not.”

It was especially funny to be listening to that song today right after leaving the pool because at swimming I had a startling revelation. After sitting at the Nissan dealership for considerably longer than I was supposed to this morning for a new set of tires for the Pathfinder, I was going to be late to swimming. Rather than an hour and a half, I would have barely an hour of pool time. I started questioning if it was worth it to hurry and get there or if I should scrap it, go home and do yoga. I decided that since I hadn’t been in the pool for almost 2 weeks, I needed to get in the water. Weirdly, I had actually missed it and I needed to do some long, slow laps. I’m now determined to become the Forrest Gump of swimming. So, today as I was challenging myself to go 1000 meters without stopping, I came to the conclusion that I have maybe, just maybe, started to like swimming. GAH! How in the world did that happen?! I am officially a triathlete. I am no longer an imposter. I went the distance, a full 1000 meters in the pool. Actually, it may have been 1050 meters, because I thought at one point I’d lost count and I didn’t want to cut myself short. I swam the extra 2 lengths just in case. But the point is, I did it and I really felt like a swimmer. And…wait for it…I liked it.

That’s the cool part. At my core, I’m still the same old Lindsey. But my identity is ever changing. I’ve always kind of considered myself to be a “jack of all trades, master of none”, so why shouldn’t I be a triathlete? I don’t have to be great at all of it, but since I enjoy all of it, why not? Don’t get me wrong, my first love still is and always will be 26.2, but, as much as I’ve resisted it, I have this new part of me now too. The part that is a swimmer. The part that is a triathlete. I am multi-faceted. And not just in regards to sports.

Swimming has taught me so much about myself. It’s teaching me about conquering fears and about continuing to improve myself, both as an athlete and as a person. I made the initial attempt at triathlons, just to take on a new challenge and look where that brought me. Just like in life, it’s important to continue evolving. Whether you’re married, divorced, single, gay, straight, a parent, whatever, we all change over time. The key is to know who you are and be true to that. As Gavin sings, “Part of knowing where I’m going is knowing where I’m coming from.” I know where I was when I wasn’t being true to myself and I don’t want to go back to that. But now, I know who I am, I’m happy with me and I’m happy with where I’m headed.

RRG playing the part of the Triathlete

18 Miles in a Blizzard

It’s official. I’m crazy. I mean like certifiably insane crazy. I just ran 18 miles in the snow. For anyone reading this outside the Greater St. Louis area, I might need to clarify what I mean by snow. It’s March 24^th, right? And we are having the blizzard of the year! I’m quite sure we are breaking records with this. For a place that claims that they don’t need to be prepared because they never get snow (which is ridiculously incorrect), we are in the midst of an estimated foot of snow. It started at about 6 am today and is expected to continue until 6 am tomorrow. School has already been cancelled. Is that even possible with April a week away? I guess so because we are having our own 2013 version of Snow-mageddon.

So, if you happened to be out today, and saw any of the 25 people crazy enough to be out running in this mess, I was one of them. At least 20 of the others are all friends of mine. I’m glad to know I’m in good company in my craziness.

As weird as this will sound, I needed to get out there today. Aside from the fact that I needed to do a long run for training purposes, I was feeling pulled in a million different directions this morning. Emails, texts, phone calls…it seemed like everyone needed something from me and they all wanted it right at that moment. I just didn’t have it in me to take care of everyone else’s requests. I have a tendancy to allow myself and my feelings to get buried under the expectations of others, so I know when I start feeling buried, that’s when I need to take care of Lindsey. I put away the laptop and tucked the phone into my spybelt (I didn’t plan to check it during my run, but in light of the weather, I figured it was best to have it with me). I strapped on the Yaktrax and I set off into the blizzard.

I’m not gonna lie, that was a tough run, both physically and mentally. I typically have some kind of weird mental block on 18 milers. 20’s I can whip out without a problem and even anything up to 16-17 isn’t too bad. But I hate 18 miles. I absolutely loathe that distance. Today I set out with 18 in the back of my mind knowing that I should go that far, but not really sure if it would complete it. I think I got so focused on beating the snow, that I actually forgot how much I hate 18 miles. I finished in around 3 hours. I’ve run 20 and 21 milers faster than that. One of those 20 milers even involved rain, sleet and crazy wind. Oddly, it was exactly 2 years ago today, if I remember correctly, when I was training for the Nashville full that never came to fuition.

The first 10 miles today were great. It was actually quite beautiful running out Old Manchester, all snow covered and lovely. The snow plows were being very considerate and trying not to attack me. Mile 11 was tough, I started to curse running. Mile 13 was great, I thought I would probably make it. Mile 16 was hard, and slow, and painful and reeked of gasoline from snow blowers. I finished Mile 17 right next to my street. I could see my house, my nice warm comfy house. I wanted to stop. I wanted to say “Well, that’s a wrap, time to get warm and dry”. It would have been so easy to just call it a day. 17 miles in a blizzard, that’s plenty, right? But those are the moments that truly test our character. What do we do when things are hard? When we’re tired and weary, do we quit? Cheat? Give up? Or do we push through the cold and the tired and the soaking wet shoes to press on towards the goal? Do we fight through the pain to accomplish what we set out to do? There is a reason I always wear a bracelet on my left wrist that simply reads “Persevere”. It reminds me that I can, and I will, in any situation.

At approximately 17.36 miles, a man in his driveway stopped shoveling for a moment and watched me as I passed. I paused my music long enough to hear him say, “Now that’s dedication”. Smiling, I responded, “Marathon training doesn’t stop for the snow!” He smiled.

Seriously, marathon training doesn’t stop for the snow. Life doesn’t stop for the snow. Sure it slows down and school gets cancelled, but it doesn’t stop. And neither should we. Sometimes it’s a long, lonely, snowy, slushy, challenging road, but every once in a while, when you need it most, someone shows up with a word of encouragement and a smile that will pull you through that last half mile.

Now who wants to come over and shovel the foot of snow in my driveway so I don’t have to? Any takers? Anyone…?

View of the blizzard from my porch. No doubt it’s beautiful. But brutal to run in.

Spring Break, Part II

We’re home. Safe and sound. Nothing like having your first vacation as a single mom start off with not being able to check into the hotel because your credit card has been cancelled thanks to some joker who tried to commit fraud at a Target in Brooklyn. Super (Insert maximum sarcastic tone here). After a few phone calls, a bit of stress and the threat of tears (mine), we were good to go. Although, I could have done without the additional headache of a stalled Pathfinder after loading up the car at check-out. Someone please tell me it’s going to get smoother from here. But the kids had a blast and I survived, so I’m gonna call it a success.

While I was away, I received the following message from my friend and SMR teammate, Ken. By the way, this is the guy I’ve had a conversation with while in adjoining port-o-johns. Now that’s bonding! Anyway, his message:

“Spring break provides a chance to bond with our kids in ways that our normal routines do not allow. As for working out, do what you can. You suffer from the same problem I do, you believe that going at life at 100% is the only way to go at it. Unfortunately our muscle fibers need to heal or we end up in the gray zone with no improvement. So take these days as a chance to let the muscle fibers heal up while your workouts are easier.”

He’s exactly right. And that’s exactly what I did. My workouts were anywhere from minimal to non-existent. However, my heart fibers were what got truly stretched.

My workouts included things like practicing the fine art of “car dancing” and climbing many levels of stairs to reach the top of the water slide. Although, I have to admit, it wasn’t just for the stair climb workout that I carted a giant intertube up those stairs so many times, I’m kind of a big kid like that.

I have to give my kids huge props. They were champs. They humored their mom’s hairbrained idea to go for a hike when it was only registering 18 degrees out. Seriously, isn’t this supposed to be SPRING break?! What’s with the excessively low temps?! But, we did it. We saw deer, climbed trees, caught some fantastic views and had ourselves a good ol’ time…at least until the whining of “I’m hungry” and “I can’t feel my feet” set in. Just as Ken said, I go at life at 100%, so as tough as it was for me to accept that I wasn’t going to be able to complete all the trails I wanted to, I needed to do what was best for my kiddos and know when to say when.

I’d have to say, though, that the best workout of the week award goes to the laughter Silas provided as he did his spontaneous poolside dance party to “Moves Like Jagger”. That kid does have some sweet moves and he had me laughing long and hard. There is no better way to burn a few calories and tighten up the abs than laughing.

Like I said, my heart fibers got stretched more than any other part of me this week. Ally and I doing multiple slide runs together, Ethan spotting more deer than anyone and his declaration that “This hike is AWESOME” and riding the lazy river with Silas; those are all things I will hold in my heart forever. Even long after I’ve forgotten various tempo runs and speed workouts…well, ok, I don’t cherish speed work at all.

But here was the part that really got me. As an added bonus, we had access to an indoor amusement park as well so my kids got to ride the likes of the Growler and the Tilt-a-whirl to their hearts’ content (and to their mom’s nausea! I love rollercoasters, but the spinning, Oh, the incessant spinning…). The first night Silas kept dragging me onto rides because he needed me there. By the end of the last night, he was doing rides by himself. As I watched my three sweethearts climb onto the Growler together, (a huge blessing for the fighting to subside for a brief and beautiful window) I was so amazed by my little man’s courage. He’s not a baby anymore.

As a parent, it’s my responsibility to teach my kids how to spread their wings and learn how to fly. But who knew that at the same time I’m teaching them, I would be re-learning how to do that myself?

One of our family rituals is at dinner time we go around the table and each say our best and worst thing of the day. We hadn’t done that during this trip, until lunch yesterday at Nonie’s Cafe. The kids said their “bests” were everything from hiking, the wave pool, going into Chicago to see friends, the ropes course, the various rides, Shedd Aquarium, the water slides. They basically made a list of everything we had done and called it the best. But I have to agree with them. My best was…all of it. And my worst was…umm, yeah, I don’t really have a worst.

Well, I guess I probably coulda done without the whole credit card debacle.

My cuties at Starved Rock State Park in Utica, IL