Bear bait

Running with a partner is a great way to pass the time and have someone to encourage you along the way. However, you should get suspicious when the potential running partner is significantly faster than you and wants you to run on a trail known for having bears.  Here is how the conversation with my brother went:

Steve: I want to run a trail and I need you to come with me, since my wife doesn't want me to go alone because there might be bears.  

Me:  Well  I'm flattered to be invited, and I know I'm a pretty good bodyguard, but you know you run a lot faster than me.  

Steve: well isn't that the point? If we encounter a bear, I only have to outrun you.  

Me: so you are inviting me as bear bait?

Steve: that sounds a bit harsh when you put it that way but basically....so are you in?

 Needless to say, I'm still considering it.  Choose your partners wisely.  And maybe carry bear repellant. 

Chariots of Fire

One of my favorite movie quotes of all time comes from the movie Chariots of Fire and seems appropriate for Sunday.  Eric Liddle is the aspiring British Olympian who happens to come from a family of Christian missionaries.  He finds himself conflicted between his family's desire to see him spread the word of God, and his own desires to run.  Talking to his sister, he says, "I believe God made me for a purpose.  But I also believe he made me fast.  When I run, I feel His pleasure."  

I find it encouraging to think that I was made for a purpose, that I wasn't just given the leftovers form the talent bucket in heaven, and that perhaps the Lord has a reason he made me a runner.  I also like to think that I can feel God's pleasure when I run, that somehow caring for the body He gave me brings me closer to Him.  Lastly, it reminds me that when we are looking, we can find God in some unlikely places, like on the track or in the middle of a quiet road somewhere. Today, give thanks for your talents and enjoy your day of rest. 

Idaho days 5k

Strange things happen on race mornings.  No matter how many times I tell myself it is just for fun and I don't care how I finish, when I wake up race morning, the nerves set in.  My body knows I am about to punish it, so I can barely choke down any food and make repeated trips to the bathroom. Before each race, I swear I won't race ever again.  And yet once the race starts, whatever game plan I had is out the window.  The competetive monster inside me refuses to hold back and run comfortably, instead insisting on chasing down anyone who dares run in front of me, a strategy I begin to regret about 2 miles in. At the end of the race, once I have recovered from Just-glad-to-be-done mode, I usually conclude that I should have run faster and promise to do it better next time, effectively breaking the promise I made to myself before the race never to race again. So goes the cycle.  I guess I just don't get running for fun.
Today's was a very low-key race, with absolutely nothing on the line, except my pride and expectations. I finished as the first woman, 2nd overall, running 20:57 for a pretty gentle out and back race.  The good news is my splits were even (6:42-6:46 miles) and I felt good, the bad news is I want to run a minute faster next week. 
With no entry fee, no tee shirt, and no prizes, today's race was all about the simplicity of running. Maybe 50 people showed up, all about 20 minutes before race time. You recorded your own official time on the sign-up poster once you crossed the finish line, mostly so the race organizers knew everyone finished. A table complete with a water jug, watermelon, bananas, and oranges greeted all finishers.  They even had water stops at the turn around points. What more do you need? It was the kind of race I really enjoy, high on enthusiasm and low on everything else. The verdict:  I'd do it again as a workout.  Highly recommended for beginning runners, families, or a good workout for those training through.  Only downside:  lack of bathrooms near the start and somewhat anti-climactic. Overall, a good experience for your time, and you can't beat the price. Thanks for a putting it together!

Fast movin' mama

When my oldest child was a baby, my husband was in graduate school, so I learned very quickly that if I wanted to run, the baby was going to come with me in the stroller.  We had some great times and covered a lot of ground in that jogger.  Sometimes I would get strange looks from people, but for the most part, people were very encouraging of me and my stroller.  I even braved a few races, politely starting in the back and then weaving through the crowd as it thinned (hey, pushing a stroller is no reason not to try to win!).  I knew even my toddler was catching the spirit of racing in one particular spring 5k. I was about a mile into the uphill race, not only pushing a 2 year old in the stroller, but hauling my 7 month pregnant belly along.  I thought I was moving at a pretty good clip, all things considered, but it wasn't good enough for the man in the chariot.  "Faster Mom," he said, "they are getting away from you!" If I hadn't been gasping for air I would have assured him that I was doing all I could to catch up.  

Fortunately by the time baby sister showed up I could leave them both at home with daddy and enjoy running solo again.  Only a small part of me misses having that constant little running partner.  Now my 10 year old and his siblings stand at the finish and yell "faster", but will love me even if I can't win. They don't know the difference between faster and slower anyway, but they know they have a mom who runs and loves it.

 Today, I salute all moms who run when they can, often dragging children along, because we know it makes us better moms, better wives, better humans.   Especially those loading up multiple kids into the stroller or  getting up at outrageous hours to run before the household wakes,  you rock.  Keep up the good work.  And let us hope that when the tables have turned, that the children we once pushed around will take us out for a spin in our wheelchairs every now and then. 

Honesty

Everyone needs at least one totally honest person in their life. We need someone to tell us the truth that we refuse to believe.  Let me illustrate.  

My darling younger sister has always been an amazing runner.  She has competed in track, cross-country, soccer, and gymnastics without injury, including while running in college.  Now, three kids and several years removed from her prime, she experiences a minor calf injury while attempting to train for her first marathon.  Looking for treatment advice from the experts, she asks our brother about it.  In the most direct, non-soft way possible, he says,"Let me tell you something that no one else will. You are getting old.  You cannot run as fast as you used to."

We all laughed heartily at that wisdom, and I imagine this was truly ground-breaking news for the fast sister.  (Not to mention a what-do-you-really-think-about-me moment between siblings.)  But the point holds true for all of us.  None of us are as fast as we used to be, and sometimes we need permission for that to be okay.   We need someone who knows us well enough to tell us that it is okay for our PRs to be distant memories; some days it is enough just to keep moving.  We need that person around who we trust when they say it's okay to take a day off, but who encourages us to keep going, too.  So thanks, Brother, for setting the example of a dedicated runner, but for keeping us humble and real.  And by the way, you will always be older, so let us now how this old age thing works out. 

I can do hard things!

Sometime last fall I went to a training meeting for adults working with Boy Scouts.  During the meeting, the speaker said, "These boys need to know they can do hard things."  Ever since then, that has become my mantra when trying to convince myself to do something I'm not sure I can or want to do:  I can do hard things.  It is a very empowering thought.  It doesn't make the task easier, but it reminds me that I am equal to it.  

This has been especially true in running.  I was at the track one rainy day doing 400s, while some aspiring policemen were preparing to take a physical fitness test. When I was catching my breath between repeats, one asked, "do you actually enjoy this?" I didn't have to think long, because I've heard variations on that question my whole life.  "Yes," I said smiling, "it feels good to do hard things, to push myself." And it's true.  There is no sense of accomplishment like doing something hard, finishing something you weren't sure you could even do.  The best part is that the boost in confidence and strength carries over into life outside running.  I know I can do hard things, because I do it every day when I run. 

You run like a horse...

I was chatting with a fellow church-goer one day after meetings, when he mentioned that he'd seen me running earlier in the week.  "Oh?" I was not particularly surprised, but was completely unprepared for what followed.  "You run just like a horse." 

"Thanks," I say, as I'm thinking, What! All foamy at the mouth and sweaty and gallopy? Maybe because I'm enormous with a long ponytail and my neck stretches out when I run? Whatever the reason for the comparison, it was the most unusual compliment I think I'd ever received.  

Only later did I learn that this man's business is training racehorses.  He would recognize a good trot if he saw one.  So although it seemed odd to me at the time, perhaps it was the nicest compliment I'd ever received after all. 

I learned several lessons that day: Don't be surprised by anything the farmers say.  Don't judge the value of an opinion until you understand where it's coming from.  And always take as a compliment any comparison to a horse.  Now go out and run like a horse today.  

It runs in the family

It has recently come to my attention that not all families are running families.  In fact, some families are not sports families at all.  I know this may be hard to believe, but not everyone plans their weekends around their training/racing schedule.  Some people have other things to discuss when they get together besides their latest PRs and goal race times. Some people don't count mileage obsessively and take days off from running once in a while.  None of these "other people" are in my family, of course, but I do hear that they exist.

I have actually begun to worry lately about what would happen if my kids decide they don't like to run when they grow up.  What would we talk about? Around what would we plan our family vacations? And I can't even begin to think how we would start every holiday if we didn't have a fun run to attend.  Almost as far back as I can remember, my family has been runners.  We ran on teams when we were younger, and run socially as adults. Naturally we have other interests as well, but we have bonded over running.  We grew up spending summers at track meets, falls at cross-country, and winters training.  Several of us ran in college, and have then worked as high school track coaches.  We have persuaded my dad, who tried to convince us that he was non-competitive, to compete in road races and run relays with us.  Even my mom, who probably doesn't consider herself a runner, is such a fixture cheering on the sidelines that she is cemented firmly in most of my running memories, and can probably talk about running more knowledgeably than a lot of runners.  We cheer for each other, we compare training logs, we get together to run races, and even try to beat each other.  Talk about quality family time.  I try to imagine growing up without running and I imagine a lot of sitting around staring at each other.  What do non-runners do?

Should my kids decide to pursue other activities besides running,  I will love and support them anyway. I just can't imagine why they would want to do anything else. 

A day of rest

I love Sundays.  It is the one day of the week that I can leave my running log blank and not have guilt.  Enjoy your sabbath.  If you need a running fix today, here is a link to an inspiring short video that shows a great side of running.

https://www.lds.org/friend/online-activities/videos/other?lang=eng#daytons-legs

Superhero

I think I figured out the secret behind the superhero super powers.  I'll let you in on it: the secret is in the spandex. I've discovered this little known tidbit while running (of course).  There is some transformative power in spandex. The second it goes on,  I transform from middle age mother of four housewife into Runner-girl, cousin of Wonder Woman. I am suddenly able to flex my muscle-laden legs and outrun deer or climb hills and conquer track repeats with the grace of the goddess Nike. While the spandex is on, I am tough, strong, and yes, attractive.  I take on the world, and I am restoring peace and order to my world through that hour a day I spend running, much as the comic book superheroes.  I return (eventually), ready to resume my ordinary life and non-spandexed identity.  It makes sense.

I'm working on a theory about the mask too.  You know how they always wear a mask (and Clark Kent has his glasses)? The world never recognizes them.   My theory is that while people can actually recognize them, the bystanders recognize that the superhero is fullfilling a higher purpose, and therefore not to be disturbed.  The hero, meanwhile, feels protected from the world.  See, because I run in sunglasses, I believe that I am somehow hidden from all the people I pass.  I observe them without being seen.  I get to fight the Evil Enemy Flab and his cohort Old Age in peace as bystanders simply shake their heads in admiration. 

Every once in a while someone will tell me they saw me out running.  I smile and nod, but don't let them know that they actually saw my alter-ego, Runner Girl.  I have returned to my ordinary life, and am now merely a mom that would never be caught sweating in public. 

But the spandex and sunglasses are never far away.

10 things to ponder during the long run

I am training for my second, and hopefully last, marathon.  I love running but I just don't love marathoning.  It is just too long.  I'd rather run short and fast and be done with it.  That being said, here is my list of top ten recurring thoughts during the long runs (in order from early in the run until late in the run):

1. I feel great. I could do this all day. I love my sister for inviting me to run a marathon with her.
2. I wonder how many MnM's I can fit in my skirt pocket.
3. I hope that passing car understands just how far I am running.
4. Why couldn't Philippides have died after sixteen miles?
5. Time to make sure my legs haven't fallen off yet.
6. Who would know if I pulled over and took a little nap for the next hour?
7. I hope there is a porta-potty out here somewhere...
8. I wonder if my sister hates me that she wants me to do this with her.
9. Next time, a 5k.
10. Done at last.  I am awesome. I just hope I don't have to move anymore today.

The Birds

So I run in a rural area.  I figure a little wildlife comes with the territory. I get that.  But nothing prepared me for a role in a revival of Hitchcock's The Birds last week.  I was trotting along comfortably enjoying the morning when a bird swooped low over my head.  I figured it was just flying low and it didn't bother me until it came back even lower.  I watched as it circled around and started diving towards me again. This time I noticed talons and a very sharp beak as it was headed for me.  Determined not to lose an eyeball, I shouted at it hoping to scare it away.  It worked only temporarily as the hawk circled again for another pass.   By this time, I'm shouting and waving my arms and looking like a complete lunatic, but I managed to run beyond whatever the hawk was protecting.
Eventually, my breathing and pace returned to normal, and I was feeling more confident, albeit confused about what inspired the attack.  Unfortunately, the only way home was to turn around and go back the way I came, so I was hoping the bird would find better things to do than harrass me by the time I got back. From the point I turned around, I was scanning ahead, hoping not to see the big hawk in the sky.  This would have been easier had not a sparrow decided to dive bomb me as well. His attack was not as persistent as the hawk, but by this point, I was getting a little jumpy.  Any bird that took flight when I passed was a potential threat.  I didn't see the hawk again until I was right next to the field where it started circling.  Did I look like carrion? It wasn't that long of a run.... My plan was to outrun it while screaming and waving arms.  Crazy, but what else could I do? He dove at me again, but pulled up when I turned on the maniac routine, so it worked.  I was half-panicked, half-laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, once I was a safe distance past.   I only hope no one I know saw me that day. 
After some reflection, I think the birds must have been protecting unseen nests nearby my route, so credit the defensive mama birds.  But I am a little less trusting of birds these days.  Sure, they look innocent enough, but I've seen the movie. 

On your marks, get set, go!

Welcome to Running Off Balance!  Several years ago my family put together a relay team, and came up with the name "off balance", thinking we were making an oh-so-clever play on "new balance", the shoe company, and the craziness of the run we were about to attempt.  Since then, we have discovered it is probably a more accurate descriptor than we originally thought for most long-distance runners, and my family in particular. (love ya, but you're all crazy!)  We also felt really cool when people mistook it for "new balance" and asked with reverent awe if we were a professionally sponsored team.  While that mistake is rarely made anymore,  the moniker stuck and I thought it would be fun to share the random thoughts and experiences that I have while running.  Happy running!