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.