Eyes wide open

When I left the house for my run today, it was 9 degrees fahrenheit, with a windchill that put the "feels like" temp at minus 1.  Yes, I was that crazy. Not a lot of fast running or deep thinking occurs at minus 1.  However, I happened upon three rhymes that kept bouncing around in my noggin as I paced through the town.  I will share them, and the lessons that accompany them, in hopes that they will keep you company some cold morning. 

1: Mile one, hard part done.  I talked myself into going out to the door by promising myself an easy four miler.  After I finished that, I figured I may as well go one more since I was awake and warm(ish) anyway.  It really is the starting that is the hardest part.  Everything gets easier as you go but you gotta get out the door.

2: Eyeballs freeze at nine degrees.  I learned this on accident.  Seeing how my eyes were the only part of my body not covered in double layers, they were already more exposed.  But being constantly pooled in a thin puddle of tears is just asking for trouble.  After a while one finds that the eyes become glued completely closed as eye lashes crystallize. This makes a minor hazard for running, as vision is typically preferential to running blind, but the ice does quickly melt with reintroduction of heat.  

3: After five, the world's alive.  Although it sometimes seems like I am the only one who is awake when the world is dark and cold, I am surprised to see just how many good people were up and about. I even passed one other runner with reflective tape and head lamp glowing; it warmed my heart.  But I also tip my hat to all those who start early and brave all conditions to satisfy whatever demands--job, family, life--are placed on them.  It is good to know that the world is full of hard working people who are up and about when it seems more reasonable to be sound asleep.  And even though I can't really see them, I feel on connected to all these morning people with their little glowing lights that cut through the he dark.  

So tomorrow, when you are out before (or after) the crack of dawn, pick a rhyme to sing to yourself while you run. Hopefully it will help you to stay motivated, or not to be so lonely, or maybe just to smile.  Just remember to keep those eyes open so they don't freeze shut.  

Be your best self

One of the best things about running is that you can see improvement in yourself without comparing yourself to others. Even if you are not winning races, you can feel success just by improving your own best times.  In fact, you are I likely to meet more problems than success when you start comparing yourself to others.  

Let me explain.  

I had a coach in college who told me I needed to lose weight.  There I was, in the best shape of my life,  and I was told I needed to get leaner to run really fast.  All-Americans, of which he had coached a lot, were very lean and strong and I needed to look more like them.  I really trusted the coach, knew he knew about coaching distance runners, and I wanted to be faster, so I tried to limit my calorie intake for a time.  Instead of getting faster, I just found that I was too tired to run well.  Go figure.  

At this point I decided that if I was fat, I would just have to be the fastest fat kid out there.  I could not worry about becoming someone else, even if that meant never becoming All-American.  It was a very liberating idea.  I no longer had to worry about becoming someone else, I just had to become the fastest version of myself I could be.  Could I have lost a few pounds and run better?  Probably.  Was it worth starving myself to become something I wasn't? Probably not.  

Even now, I occasionally am tempted to compare myself to someone else, forgetting how well I am doing for myself and become disappointed I am not reaching someone else's standard of excellence.  I am much happier if I recognize that I am doing the best with what I have and don't worry about what anyone else is doing.  Stop worrying about how you measure up to anyone else.  Just do your best, enjoy running, and be the fastest fat kid you can be.  

What to do on Saturday...

I am done with my marathon now, and find I have time in my life again. I have been looking forward to this for six months because of all the things I could do without having to go for those long runs every week.  I even compiled a list of things that I could be doing with my time if I wasn't running around town for two to three hours every Saturday.  This was the start of my list:

I could sleep in.  A long time.

I could make, eat, and clean up breakfast and be halfway to lunch.

I could do my grocery shopping.

I could read a good book.

I could watch a whole movie, complete with bonus features. 

I could clean my whole house, top to bottom. 

But I couldn't think of more than two or three things that actually sounds like a better idea than the run. And now that I actually have the time to do these things, all I want to do is go out for a run. I think I must be missing something.  What exactly is it that normal people do on Saturday morning?  I am open to suggestions.  Maybe there really is something better out there that I am missing. It is interesting to think of the possibilities in case I ever retire. But for now, I guess there isn't much I could do that is better than my Saturday morning run.  See you out there.

Another Marathon

So I have done it again.  Another marathon.  I swore I would never do another.  It was still 26.2 miles.  Still 3 hours of running. Still painful. And it was amazing.  I think I need to apologize to marathoners everywhere because I have spent years moaning about the marathon and complaining about how it isn't a good race to run. Too time consuming, too hard, too long, not good for the body, and on and on and on.  

And all of that is still true.  But I am beginning to get it a bit. To run for three (or more) hours on the edge of one's ability and push limits back is to truly accomplish something. I can run a 5k and feel good about what I have done.  But after finishing a marathon I feel primarily exhausted, followed closely by exhilarated, unconquerable, and strong.

I owe a lot of this to my sister.  She wanted to attempt a sub three hour marathon, which is 6:52 per mile pace or faster.  That is fast.  I didn't think I would be able to run that fast, but I am a little competitive and so figured if she could try it, I better give it a go as well.  I trained hard and had some good tune up races, but still entered the race with a lot of questions.  Before the race, and even at points during it, I questioned whether or not I should try for the 3 hour mark.  It would be much easier to just relax and run without pushing the pace. I remember clearly a decision point; I realized I had to risk to receive the reward. If I just ran safely and comfortably, I would never know what I can do. Without risk there would be no accomplishment.

I ran for it.  The first hour I felt great.  The middle was steady work.  The last hour I started to hurt.  The last three miles took willpower to keep moving at all as my quads  felt like someone had been kicking them for the previous two hours.  And I realized that the hardest parts of the races are where we prove ourselves.  I needed to prove to myself that the training is all worth it.  That I can do hard things.  That the most rewarding things often require a sacrifice of time, effort, and comfort to attain.  

I crossed the line in 3 hours, one minute and 30 seconds.  To some it would appear that I felt short of my goal and that I might be disappointed.  On the contrary, however, I am still amazed at what I was able to accomplish.  I set a new pr by seven and a half minutes.  I ran about 4 minutes faster than I thought I could.  I ran an average of 6:55 pace for 3 hours, and I am even starting to believe that I could go a tiny bit faster. Sometimes what appears to be failure is really a great achievement or a jumping off point for the next goal. 

So although I haven't been able to climb stairs all week, and even sitting down and standing up was a major effort for a day or two, it was only two days before I started talking about the next one.  Because I think I'm starting to get it.  I am grateful for the chance to find the superwoman in me that is only found at the end of 26 miles. 

In the bigger picture, this is exactly why the Lord gives us trials too. He knows that we need to see the strong people we stand to become. We can't always recognize our own strength when we are standing safely on the starting line, or well within our own comfort zones.  As we experience the pains and discomforts of life, we work, we endure, and we are stronger for it. It doesn't feel good all the time, but at the end we can stand back and appreciate the growth we experienced along the way.  Fortunately there are plenty of people to help pace us, encourage us, and even challenge us to be better than we think we can be. 

So while I don't want pain, or trials, or marathons, if that is what it takes for me to become better,  I say bring it on.  And watch out world, because if it's me and the Lord in this together, anything is possible. 

Muscle cars

I have always had a thing for classic muscle cars.  My dream vehicle is a sixties Mustang convertible. There is something about the strength and power that muscle cars exude that I find appealing, exciting, even sexy.  To cruise down the road (because muscle cars never "drive", they always "cruise") with the wind in your hair is the epitome of freedom.  

However, I drive a minivan.  It is practical.  It is functional.  It gets me from point A to point B.  But it is neither strong nor powerful and nowhere near sexy. And between the kids in the backseat and the errands to be done, freedom is out the window.  

Fortunately I have another vehicle.  Running, I've decided, is the equivalent of the muscle car for me. I can head down the road, wind blowing through my hair, feeling strong, powerful, and yes, even sexy.  The rest of my life is lived minivan style: safe, practical, and functional.  But running is the one chance I have to show some muscle.  To push the engine to its limits and see just how fast and how far I can really go.  To enjoy the scenery and the journey, without being worried about where I am going or by the need to get things done.  

So while it is wonderful to have a minivan, and much of life is lived therein, don't be afraid to let your inner muscle car loose every once in a while.  Go cruisin', relax and enjoy the ride. 

What fast looks like

My sister had an awkward moment this morning when, after her 5k in which she ran blazing fast and destroyed the competition, she got in line for the pancake breakfast.   Then she realized she could smell herself and it wasn't all roses and lilies.  I told her that she could simply tell anyone whose nose was offended that she is what fast smells like.  

It got me thinking of the other potentially awkward moments runners might encounter which could be explained away by stating, "True, but this is what fast looks like."

For example, when I am in a bathing suit that shows off my big strong legs with the terrible running shorts tan line, I can reassure myself, "it's okay.  This is what fast legs look like."

Or when I am all red faced and straining in my finish line photo, instead of being grossed out Or critical, I just say, "Awesome! so that is what fast looks like!"

And then when I can't fit into clothes because I have arm muscles but no boobs, I say, "That's okay.  Obviously no clothing designers know what fast looks like."

Or when I go in to get my pedicure and the Asian women (not racist, I just have never been to a non-Asian pedicurist) start mumbling to each other in their native language about my feet and ask if I need a cheese grater to get the callous off, I say, "No it's fine.  I need the callous.  This is just what fast feet look like."

Then there is meal time.  Runners can't survive on salad and universe juice.  Go ahead and eat meat and don't feel bad about that second trip to the pasta bar.  That is what fast eats like.  

Finally my own personal favorite: bedtime.  I know nine o'clock seems early to some, but hey, when I have to get up early to get my miles in before it is too hot, I have to get my sleep.  So yes, asleep at nine.  That is just what fast looks like.  

Non slip headband

Here is the most wonderful headband for anyone who wants to keep hair out of her face.  It really truly doesn't slip while you are running and is so cute all your friends will be jealous.  Besides, it is easy enough to make in just a few minutes and is super cheap.  I made them for my track girls this spring and one for myself because I liked them so much.  Enjoy!

http://www.kristinagrum.com/2013/08/tutorial-how-to-make-no-slip-headband.html

Race review: Gunsight Gallop

This morning I ran a race called the Gunsight Gallop. It has nothing to do with a gun, and everything to do with a gallop. It is a gentle 3 mile race in a little town called Clarkston, nestled against the hills of Cache Valley, Utah.  I have run this race several times before, and I am still drawn back, mostly because it makes me feel happy.  

This was the thirty-something year of the race, so it is even older than I am, but has built a wonderful tradition over the years.  It started in conjunction with the town celebration, originally called the pony express days.  The race was named after the local mountain peak (Gunsight Peak) which you can see the second half of the race. As far as I know, the course hasn't changed all that time either.  With an entry fee of five dollars, there is no good reason not to run.  And since winners walk away with a cash prize that is more than that, I'm pretty sure the race is barely self-sustaining. No teeshirt is offered, but the race is simply about giving people a chance to run. 

I give a lot if credit to the original race director, Dan Cooper.  He was a friendly guy with a passion for running and an ability to provide a good experience while keeping it simple.  He even offered to watch my kids so both my husband and I could run one race morning when my sitter was running late.  How many race directors make that offer?  I think we had maybe 30 people running this morning which was perfect. It felt like a family affair (and it probably was, mostly).

 It is not a pr course, as it is hilly and gravelly, but it is a race that reminds me why I run: it is fun, I feel good, competition makes me better, and mornings are beautiful.  So if you can make it to the Gunsight Gallop next June, I highly recommend it.  Tell your friends, just not too many of them.  

When you've seen it all...

Just when you think you have seen everything there is to see in at track meet, come to Idaho.  I have been going to track meets for over 20 years and thought that nothing could surprise me.  Until two weeks ago, we were at the state qualifying meet near Idaho Falls, Idaho.  The wind was consistently blowing at 30 miles an hour, with gusts up to forty and above.  That is a lot of wind.  As spectator, I got so used to bracing myself by leaning into the wind that if it let up I almost fell over.  Needless to say, it was extremely difficult to run in.  

But the really interesting part came when the hurdle crew set up the hurdles on the track.  The hurdles were all in their tidy little rows, for a second or two.  And then the wind started pushing them down the track.  It would be nearly impossible to run a hurdles race with moving hurdles.  (Although now that I think about it, that could be an interesting event....) As the crew would fix one or two hurdles, another one or two would get blown out of line.  So the solution was to have people stand and hold the hurdles in place until the runners got close, then run to the side at the last possible second.  It was like a game of chicken within the race.  I've never seen anything like it.  The strong guys with razor sharp spikes on their shoes are barreling down the track toward you.  How long do you dare to stay put? It actually worked surprisingly well, though.  Racers, and hurdle holders, finished the race without incident.  And everyone else got a good laugh while experiencing another first at the track.  

Happy Mother's Day

Everyone has times in their lives when they learn important lessons about life.  And many of these important lessons can be traced to running.  For me, one of these defining experiences happened my senior year of high school, and I have my mom to thank for pointing me in the right direction.  

Through my senior year of high school track I had a nagging pain in my foot.  But the pain would go away after I started running so I ignored it.  Until I couldn't anymore.  I ran the state qualifier meet, finished my race, and when I stepped off the track, I couldn't walk on that foot anymore.  A visit to the doctor the next day confirmed that I had had a stress fracture in my foot all season that broke completely when I ran the last race.  Adrenaline had gotten me through but could get me no farther. The doctor, though kind, was also a practical man who knew that if he let me leave the office without a cast, that I would attempt to run on that foot again at state.  So he cut the leg of the jeans I was wearing (the first thing of many that brought tears to my eyes that day) and put on a cast then and there.  I would be in a cast and on crutches for at least 3 months.  I was heartbroken for a number of reasons.  I had one more race in high school that I wasn't going to be able to run.  My graduation was two weeks away.  And it was two days until my senior prom.  

I cried a lot.  I am ashamed to admit that I wanted to sit at home and not go out until I could walk on two feet.  Enter mom. Moms have the sometimes unpleasant job of telling us what we need to hear, however unwilling the listener.  After letting me wallow for a while, she insisted that I go out and get my nails done and get myself ready for the prom.  She even made bows to adorn my crutches that matched my dress.  I owed it to my date to be pleasant and have fun, she said.  So reluctantly at first, I went. But you know what? In the end, she was right.  It was a memorable prom and I had a wonderful time. 

Here is what I needed to learn.  When unexpected and bad things happen--and they will-- it is okay to cry for a minute, but then you have to pick yourself up, carry on, and make the best of things.  So thanks mom, for teaching me how to keep running, even on crutches.  

How to boil a frog

There is a proverb that says to boil a frog, you put him in a pot of cold water, increasing the temperature of the water so slowly that at he never notices an increase until it is too late. Whereas if you put him in the hot water initially, he would merely jump out and there would be no frog stew.

I think running is like this.  As I coach my high school tracksters, we try to increase their toleration to mileage and speed work gradually enough that they never really notice, but their bodies adapt and they can tolerate workouts they couldn't and wouldn't handle on day one.  

This also reminds me of marathoning.  If I tried (as some do) to run a marathon on no training,  it would be like placing me in boiling water: I would want out quickly.  So I build up my training and I can tolerate much more at the end than I otherwise could at the beginning. 

So the moral to the story is simple:  if you want to introduce a new behavior, introduce it a little at a time. Don't expect radical change at first, it will send the frogs hopping.  But with patience you will gradually have boiling water and a body accustomed to it.  

Happy running. Or boiling. 

Cougars Don't Cut Corners

One of my favorite stories from college lore is this.  The campus grounds crew, tired of students wearing the grass thin as they angled across the well-manicured lawns in an effort to get to classes faster, placed signs all around proclaiming loudly, "Cougars Don't Cut Corners!"

It was an admirable sentiment, until some smart-alek student snuck around one night and cut off all the corners of the signs, leaving a somewhat mixed message for students the next day.  

While this story makes me laugh, I retell it to my runners to remind them of this truth: there is more than one way to cut a corner.  I can't really stop anyone who wants to cut a corner, but you still shouldn't do it.  In the short term it might get you there faster, but in the bigger picture it doesn't get you the results you desire. 

Knowing this, I still found myself subconsciously looking for corners to cut this week as I searched for a marathon training plan.  I am trying to decide if I can run a sub-3, and after looking at the paces and training required, I decided it just looked really hard.  So I began to wonder if I could find another training plan, one that somehow could turn me into a faster runner without all that hard work.  Turns out they all expect me to run faster longer in practice if I want to run faster longer in a race.  There is no shortcut.  And, it occurred to me, if there was someone selling a shortcut, it probably wouldn't yield the results I wanted in the end anyway.  Eventually I came to the conclusion the grounds crew hoped we would all reach years ago: if I wanted to get where I was going, I needed to stay on the proven path and not cut corners.  It might require more work, but short cuts just leave everything worn out in the end.  

Running in the light

I was running early this morning. Once I got off of the one mile strip of Main Street that has street lights,  it was really dark.  Like mid winter, no moon, cloud-cover, can't see a thing dark.  Fortunately, I was wearing a headlamp and reflective vest. ( I figure the cars should at least see me before they hit me.) But as I was running in the dark, I realized I could only see about a ten foot halo around me, where the light was shining.  Beyond that, it was completely black. I have to admit it is a little scary not knowing what is beyond the halo of light, but I had to keep going.  As I did, I discovered that I could see the next ten feet ahead, and then the next ten feet, and found that the light moved just ahead of me the whole way until I returned safely to my home.  

I realize this might sound a bit obvious, but there is a great principle here at work.  As we move through life, we often find ourselves in unknown territory, where we can't see the path ahead.  We can chose to stay safe and run back and forth in the light of Main Street, or only stay those places we are comfortable, but then we don't get anywhere.  Yet if we have a little faith, trust in ourselves and our guiding light, we can be guided safely through the darkness of our lives.  Isn't that wonderful!

What I wish I knew in high school

I enjoy spending time around the high school girls that I coach on the track team.  Some days they remind me of how fun high school was, and other days they remind me how grateful I am that I am well beyond. But occasionally they get me thinking about things that I have learned from and since my high school days, that I wish they could understand to help them on their way.  I don't know if I would have listened if someone had given me this advice, but here is my list to pass on of things I wish female high school runners understood.

You are a runner. Doesn't mean you can't do other things, but this is what you are good at. Embrace it and commit yourself so you never wonder what if.

Understand that while running is part of who you are, it does not define you.  When you are no longer a competitive runner, you will still have an identity as a sister, friend, daughter, scholar, hard-worker, etc. 

Big legs are beautiful, because big legs=muscle=fast=strong=beautiful.

You are faster, stronger, smarter, and more capable than you believe. 

There will be voices, both inside and outside your head, that tell you you can't do it.  Prove them wrong.

There will be voices, both inside and outside your head, that tell you you are better than you can imagine.  Believe them.  

Someday you will learn that eating 15,000 calories a day without gaining a pound is unnatural and unsustainable.  Until then, enjoy it.  

It's okay to cry when your goals are unmet or changed out of necessity.  But then set new goals, get back up, and go to work. 

Treasure the friendships.  Never again will you have such a natural group of built in friends who understand why you are the way you are (running lots of miles makes everyone strange).

Give your parents a hug.  They follow you to races and cheer like your race is the most important thing in the world to them.  It's really you they care about, not the race.

Be the best you can be and run (and live) with no regrets.

Happy running.

Faith

I was trying to pep-talk another runner who said, " I don't know if I can do this," and I found myself reassuring her that running is a tremendous leap of faith.  When I begin a race or a run of any distance,  I have no assurance that I will finish, let alone feel good doing it.  The thought of running twenty miles (or even five miles or one, some days) can be pretty overwhelming.  Without faith, I wouldn't dare even begin.  But a runner who has faith can be brave enough to take that first step.

A runner has to have faith in the coach, trusting that Coach has prepared the athlete adequately to run.  Likewise, the runner also has to have faith that the workouts have been appropriate and have been completed in a manner that will allow her to race at her best. I know that my past workouts have made me strong enough to finish the workout in front of me today.  (I used to calm pre-race nerves by relying on my faith in my coaches and assuring myself that they had done everything possible to prepare me or the day's race. ) 

Further, faith is a motivator for work, because faith would be incomplete without taking those first few steps out the door. I can have all the faith in the world that I could run a five minute mile, but without actually training for it, my faith wouldn't be any good. But because I want to turn my faith into knowledge, I am willing to do the work.  

So if there is a life lesson in this, here it is.  Faith is believing that we can accomplish the unseen task ahead of us, and even the simplest task requires faith.  Don't be afraid to try your faith, but let faith move you to action to run farther or faster than you ever have before.  

Happy running.  

   

Galen Rupp follow up

It occurs to me that I never followed up with the conclusion of Galen Rupp's record quest.  I wish I could report that he had broken the record as planned, cementing his place in the indoor record books.  Unfortunately, this is real life and despite evidence to the contrary, Rupp is only human.  He pulled out of the record attempt due to nagging injury in order to save himself for indoor nationals and worlds. 

I have to admit feeling a little disappointed for him.  He was running so well, I figured the record was a given.  And I'm sure he was disappointed too.  But I also see several positive lessons in this experience.  

First, there is no shame in living to run another day.  One bad race, or workout, or day, does not define a career. It is better to accept a minor setback, recover, and then press forward full steam ahead again, instead of just plowing ahead recklessly.

The second lesson is that sometimes, despite our best laid plans, life interferes.  Even if he was doing amazing workouts and eating right and sleeping right and everything, Galen still got injured.  It happens. We have to be flexible enough to change plans midstream sometimes. 

Third, recognize the difference between short term and long term goals. If the goal of his entire season had been to set the record, then it would've been worth it to run and risk injury.  But if the goal is to place at world championships, it is an easy decision to pull out and train for that instead.  It is important to see that a change in plans doesn't mean failure, it just means a new focus.  

My take home message is to set high goals for yourself.  Go for the records.  But don't feel like a failure if you don't get them.  Just refocus on another goal, regroup, and run another day. Happy running. 

Another sign you've been spending too much time at the track

Since I started coaching the high school track team,  my four kids get to come hang out at the track with me.  Most of the time this is not a problem, and they enjoy running around, playing, and generally being with the high school kids.  

However, the other day it occurred to me that maybe my kids are spending a bit too much time at the track.  I was headed to practice with my five year old, and mentioned how it was time to go so we wouldn't be late.  He responded, "yep. We can't be late because we are the coach."

I loved his use of the plural.  But maybe he needs a day off.  This coaching stuff can be exhausting.  

10 reasons it's great to be a distance runner

1: I have time to be alone and think, plan, solve problems, or just relax.

2:  Everyone thinks you are strange anyway, so go ahead and live it up.  You have nothing to lose.

3: You can win medals, even as a fully grown adult.  

4: I can eat dessert.  Sometimes two.  

5: It is socially acceptable to wear spandex.  

6: Carbs are my friends.

7: You can go places car people can't.

8: I have forged lifetime bonds with people through the shared sweat and effort of many miles, and even bonded with those whom I have shared a few miles. 

9: I better understand the rewards of hard work and long term persistence. 

10: I have earned my confidence and strength one mile at a time. 

Happy running. 

Windy season

Track season has arrived.  In southeastern Idaho, this means the winds start howling.  Wind can seriously effect your times when running, so when planning workouts and races, it helps to know what kind of weather you are facing.  Instead of investing in some fancy schmancy wind meter, I have devised some ways of determining how wind will affect my run for the day. 

#1: Most effective in the early morning, I call this the donut detector.  There is one grocery store in town, and depending on how many blocks away and in which direction I can smell the donuts, I can easily estimate in which direction and how strongly the wind is blowing.  

#2:  The fried chicken check. Similar to the donut detector, but it works in the afternoon.  

#3:  The pony tail windsock:  this is the most reliable and specific of my wind meters.  If you want resistance training, you want to run so that your ponytail blows straight behind you, so you are running directly into the wind.  If you are doing an out and back run, you want your ponytail to be blowing sideways, so that you never have a direct headwind, but you will have cross wind the whole time.  If your ponytail is blowing directly into your face, you have a killer tailwind, and you will run your fastest times. However, you may want to phone a friend to pick you up at the edge of town rather than turn around and run back. 

If I am feeling wimpy, I usually plan my hard days so I warm up into the wind, run repeats with the wind behind me, then recover into the wind again, so all my fast running is with the wind.  If I'm up for a challenge, I run on the track where it all balances out.  If I were really tough, I would do all my running into the wind, but that is just exhausting.  

Whichever way you run, you are now tougher for doing it, and therefore, more awesome. 

 Happy running.  

If all sports were like track...

I have been spending too much time watching the Winter Olympics lately.  Besides making me grateful for a (sometimes) summer sport, I'm often find myself thinking how much better all sports would be if they were patterned after running sports.  In track, you know exactly where you stand the whole time. if you are the first guy to the finish line, you win.  Easy. End of story.  No judges to arbitrarily award or deduct points based on your style while running. No prizes based on artistic interpretation or costume choice or music or any other such nonsense. (Seriously, figure skating?) No waiting for the contestants to go one at a time.  It is you, the clock, the other competitors.  At the finish line, you know exactly how you did and where you finished, and that has been within your control the whole time. 

In fact, not only do you know where you stand any given day, you know where you stand in all of history.  A mile today is exactly the same distance as when Sir Roger ran it sixty years ago.  No questions about the best runners of all time; it is all written in the history books. 

But I digress.  Think about how much improved it would be if they put all the figure skaters out there at the same time.  First one to complete all required elements wins.  Or maybe last one standing, if you want it to be an endurance event. (Then again, maybe we already have that event and just call it hockey....) And do we need to have individual ski racing and group ski racing? Seems to me if you put them all out there at once and let them race down the mountain it would be a bit more efficient time-wise.  Short track speed skaters seem to get it, but long trackers have only partly figured it out.  Put everyone out there at the same time and let strategy (and fate, perhaps) duke it out, cross-country style.  I don't even know what to do about curling, but if suspect it should fall into the recreational activity category more than finely tuned athletic event anyway.

Now, I don't mean to disparage any of the fine athletes representing their countries at the olympics.  Heck, they do lots of things I could never dream of attempting.  I just think we could redesign some rules to make some of the events a tad more exciting.  If it requires a judge, a costume, and music, it can be an amazingly athletic performance, but it might not be a good sport. I prefer sports that are honest and straightforward and not open for error by judges or interpretation. 

By the way, did you ever notice most Olympians train by running? Just saying....

Go team. 

Running truisms

There are several things that I have discovered while running through life.  Science will not back me up on any of these things, but if you have run enough you just might find yourself nodding in agreement at some of them.  

The hills are always longer going up than they are coming down.  

You never gain with the wind at your back what you lose with the wind in your face.  

No matter which direction you are headed, the snow will blow into your face.  

Two minutes of running a hard mile is much longer than two minutes in a marathon. 

One minute of recovery time will always go by twice as fast as one minute of hard  interval time.

It doesn't matter how many toilets there are at the starting line, it will never be enough.

It doesn't matter how many times you have been to the bathroom before a race, you will always have to go when you are on the starting line. 

You will know you are training hard when you start having nightmares in which either you can't run very well or you never get to stop.  

You will know you are training hard when your workouts start resembling your nightmares. 

No matter how fast you are as an adult, you will never be as fast and it will never be as easy as you remember it being when you were younger. But you will keep running anyway.  

That's terrific. I think.

I have been pondering the word "terrific" lately while I have been running.

My logic goes like this: if something is horrific, it is filled with horror and leads to a horrifying experience. Yet if something is terrific, is it terrifying or filled with terror? Or does it mean fabulous, as we commonly intend.  

The answer, because I know you have lost sleep over this, is yes and no.  I looked up the origin of the word terrific. Turns out, in the 1600's terrific meant "full of terror".  Somewhere in the early 1800's, the meaning morphed from "full of terror" to just "very great or severe".  Finally around 1889 we colloquialized the word to mean "excellent", adding the positive connotation.  

As a crusader to improve consistency of usage of the English language, I would offer suggestions for how to properly use the word terrific, regardless of the time period in which you live, and especially as it applies to running situations.  

Correct usage 1677: 

If someone asks, "how was your run?" And you respond, "terrific! I ran 3 sets of 20 400's at mile pace."  

That is correct, because that workout is truly terrifying.  

Correct usage1809: 

"How was your run?"

 "Terrific! I  puked my guts out."  

Correct use of terrific, because it is must have been very severe to make you puke, and it is terrifying for me to imagine exactly what happened.  Also, TMI.

Correct modern usage:  

"How was your run?"

"Terrific! I felt great and hit all my paces.  I'm ready to PR."

It is correct because terrific, here, means really excellent.  It is also correct original usage if I am trying to inspire terror into an opponent, like when I am talking to my brother in law and he knows I will beat his time.  He will recognize both meanings of terrific.  

Now go amaze your friends with your new wonderful grasp of the English language. And never again wonder if the things you think about while you run are weird.  It just might make you smarter.  

Pay attention

Just when you thought you had seen it all in distance running, another barrier is pushed back.  Alberto Salazar and his team Oregon Project just may make us rethink traditional training practices.  Over the last ten days, Galen Rupp, coached by Salazar, ran American indoor records in the 5000 meters (13:01.26) and 3000 meter (8:07).  He will make an attempt on the American (3:49.89) and world record (3:48.45) in the mile in two weeks time.  The kid is on fire.  

But the race was only half of the story.  Shortly after running a race at a pace normally used by vehicular traffic, camera crews filmed him doing another workout.  Rupp took about 15 minutes to enjoy the moment, sign autographs, and catch his breath, then he changed shoes and took to the track again.  This time by himself, he ran 5x one mile repeats, with about 3 minute recovery in between.  His paces were 4:21, 4:20, 4:20, 4:16, and, brace yourself, 4:01.  By himself. On an indoor track.  Shortly after setting the American record in the 3000.  He nearly threw down a sub-4 mile.  Now, I know the four minute barrier was broken long ago, but the group of people who belong to that group is still pretty exclusive, and the group that can run sub four alone in workouts is even smaller.  And then Coach Salazar casually mentions that Rupp hasn't even started his taper yet, but has done that all on tired legs.  I haven't studied a lot of elite training programs, but I can only imagine Rupp must be running an enormous load of miles to even attempt this kind of workout.

Maybe Rupp is a genetic gift to the sport of running who can handle an amazing work load. Maybe Salazar has tapped into some previously untried methods of training that are yielding great results. And maybe apprentice and master have just connected at the right time.  But whatever the case, Galen Rupp is showing the world that to beat him, they will have to outwork him, and that won't be easy.  

I don't know about you, but I think the future of American distance running is in good hands (or legs), for a while.  And I will definitely be watching that mile on February 15.

One last thing: the life lesson I see here is that if you want accomplish things no one else has done you have to be willing to work in a way no one else has ever worked.  

Priorities

About a month ago I had the chance to slow down for a bit.  My oldest boy landed in the hospital with a ruptured appendix, requiring about a week long hospital stay right before Christmas.  My husband and I quickly figured out that between staying with him and caring for the other kids, anything non-essential wouldn't get done, which meant no running for me. Suddenly something that consumes a fair amount of my time was sacrificed.  And surprisingly,  I was okay with it.  

Now maybe I needed a break anyway, and I'm sure I would have found time to run had his stay been much longer, but I was grateful for the chance to recognize that some things are still more important than others.  It was okay to take time off for my kid when he needed me. And now that things are back to normal (ish) I am running again with increased gratitude for the little things, like health, home, and  simple happiness. 

Happy running. Or happy time off. Either way, enjoy it while you can.

Road closed

Did you ever notice how a road closed for an event is like a cattle call for runners? Officials may as well put up a sign saying  "run here" as a barricade announcing road closures for a parade.

I was able to attend the Rose Parade in Pasadena, California,  this year on New Year's Day.  And what a way to ring in the new year.  But the interesting thing to me is that beginning about five a.m. when the roads are officially closed to traffic, the streets become full of runners. It was amazing.  People emerge from the sidelines, headed both directions up and down the parade route, with all different abilities, some costumed, many of whom camped out all night, everyone just running.  There is no official race, and while it would probably be a money-maker, it would ruin the freedom of the day. Instead, you pick the distance, pace, and starting line.  Some spectators notice and cheer, others ignore you completely, but there is a camaraderie among the runners.  Sometimes you have to weave in and out of other parade goers, but that just adds flavor to the event. There is something exhilirating about running the streets that are normally jammed with cars, but now only busy with foot traffic.  You become the fastest moving vehicle, and it is exciting.  

Try it sometime.  Next time you see the roads closed, go for a run and enjoy the freedom of being free to run somewhere that is typically off limits. Happy running.  

Sports Bras

One reason I love to write about running is because I get to address vitally important issues that could change the lives of my dear readers.  I mean, how can we survive without knowing the appropriate bumper stickers to display, or whether or not to wave at the person passing us.  

Today I would like to address another such critical issue: sports bras.  

One day in high school I found myself with some time to kill inside the school library, so naturally I began perusing books in the non-fiction section under running.  I picked up one book published near the start of the running boom in the 70s, which was full of helpful advice for the beginning runner.  One page was particularly enlightening to my teenage mind, which said that some women like to run in a bra, but suggested that it was not absolutely necessary.  (Okay, it wasn't just enlightening, it actually scarred my brain enough that it still troubles me to think that someone can walk into the library and pick up a book telling them that bras are optional.)

For any aspiring runners who have read that book or any from the same era, let me clarify:  unlike almost every other piece of clothing, the bra is no longer considered optional for female runners.  Please secure yourself.  Even shoes are considered optional these days, but sports bras, no matter how little they are actually needed, should be required. Trust me.  You (and everyone running with you) will thank me later.  

Happy running. 

Waving

Today I would like to resolve a matter that frequently perplexes runners: what to do when another runner waves at you.  The dilemma occurs when you are minding your own business headed down the road and you see an approaching runner.  You wonder what the proper greeting is, and might actually consider hiding in the bushes as an option rather than commit a fast moving faux pas.  Pretending to be interested in your watch could come off as rude, yet stopping for conversation will disrupt your groove, and extra breath used in greeting can be hard to come by if you are running hard anyway.  

So here are the guidelines to the secret, unwritten, rule of friendly runner etiquette.  

If someone waves at you: wave back.  Whether you know him for not, wave back.  Profoundly simple, yet tremendously helpful advice, I know.  But it doesn't cost you anything to wave, and you will be surprised at how refreshing it is to be connected to another runner.  Besides you never know if you will "run" into that person again and it could be helpful to see a familiar face.  No one will think you are a snob for waving, where you might look like one if you don't.  

If running in crowds of people, like a big city: don't wave unless you know the person. When I was running in London, no one made eye contact, so waving was out of the question.   This is a habit born  of sheer practicality, where if you waved at everyone you could spend your whole run just waving.  Skip the wave in a crowd.

Running loops: unless you are good friends with the person, you don't have to wave every time you pass someone on a loop. It would get a bit ridiculous to wave every time you passed someone running opposite directions on a track, for example.  Once is enough. 

Waving at cars: a friendly wave for the car that moves over to give you extra room on the side of the road is a great way to say thanks and hopefully spread goodwill for runners.  Just resist giving a one-fingered wave to the guy who actually moves closer to you or honks as he passes.  It won't help.  No matter how much he deserves it. 

If you see someone veer off the road and hide behind a tree: don't wave, whatever you do. Chances are nature is calling and the last thing they want is to be recognized at that moment.  Pretend you see nothing but the road ahead.  

When in doubt, wave.  Go ahead, give it a try.  Wave at those you pass.  It doesn't have to be a big arm-flapping wave, but you might be surprised how acknowledging your fellow humans brightens your day, and theirs.  

Happy waving. 

Ps lest you think I am crazy, this is a real issue to some people.  I have heard adults seriously contend one with another about it.  Silly, I know.  They should have just settled it with a race.