The Thankful Runner

I can't say it as fact, but I have a sneaky suspicion that neither Martha Stewart or Julia Childs were runners. I am pretty confident that the editors of "Southern Living" and "Beautiful Home" are not either.

I was in the line at the grocery store and in a feeble (failed) attempt to avoid the chocolate, I began perusing the magazines. It took me about 15 seconds to come to the decision that those magazines are not written for runners and triathletes. It took me about 20 seconds to realize, how funny it was that that was my first thought....

I flipped open to a page showing a beautiful home. It was just gorgeous. Oh, how I would love to own a house like that, so perfectly positioned on a grassy hill with a sprawling yard......sigh! The article went on to show pictures and detail every room, and with each flip of the page my heart sank as I realized that this house was not for me, the runner. The fine entryway with the steps leading to the front door simply would not do. How can a girl be expected to walk up those things after a 22 mile run? The rich, dark hardwood floors would be destroyed by my three running mates-- two black labs and a catahula. Not to mention the fact that I couldn't possibly walk across them dripping sweat and mud! And really, how silly would the porcelain bathroom fixtures look with my sweaty shorts and sports bras hanging from them dripping onto the marble floors? I can just see me plopping down on the floor post-run and stretching while my stench embedded itself in the luxurious carpet.

I closed the magazine, made my purchases, and went home. I pulled up to my simple home with the yard that needs to be mowed. It's so hard to get to that pesky yard work after a Saturday morning spent running. I opened the door to the sound of 12 humongous paw running towards me, slipping and sliding across the tile. I walked past the ball of fur collected in the corner and stepped over one of the three cats winding through my legs. I picked up the towel I had used to wipe the mud from my legs after a bike ride and sat on the couch to realize it was still wet from where I sat on it this morning before I changed. And as the leftover sweat seeped into my jeans and the dogs fought for my affections and I took in the pile of sand next to the 4 pairs of running shoes under the coffee table, I knew I couldn't be luckier. I am exactly where I am supposed to be.... it may not be in Beautiful Homes Magazine and it may not be every person's dream home but if they made a magazine of homes for runners, my house would be on the cover.

Sometimes, it's hard to be thankful. It's hard to remember that the grass is not greener on the other side and to be content with where I am right now, in this moment. Today I am overly aware of the blessings in my life. Almost a year ago, I lost my job. Since then, so much has changed. I didn't even know how well I had it. I never even considered how fortunate I was or that I should be thankful for what I had. And the best part is that even though I am living now on less, my life is so much fuller and richer than ever before. You can't buy that.

My dogs are all lying at my feet right now, twitching and dreaming. I had a glorious run in the rain, my belly is full, my body is nourished and my spirits are high. I have everything I need right here and I couldn't be more thankful.

I used to be a wimp. I really did. Not just a wimp in the sense that I couldn't handle a little pain or criticism or something like that. I was wimpy in that way, but I was a wimp in every way imaginable. Running has made me a stronger person, a better person.

You see, running is applicable to every part of life. "When the going gets tough, the tough get going." It sounds good but I think that's just a saying to most people. Runners get the full sense of what it means to "get going." So many times, when life gets tough, I want to quit. I want to do the easy thing. I want to come up with excuses, but then I remember. I am a runner.

Every time I run a race, no matter the distance, I come to a point where quitting is not only possible, it’s actually kind of reasonable. I even play in my head all the “reasons” or excuses I could tell people for why I didn’t finish or PR or whatever. …..

“Man, I got the worst cramp at mile 10 and that was it…”
“Dude, I don’t know…. My leg was aching a bit and I just couldn’t pull it out….”

When the alarm goes off at 4am I have excuses galore for why I should miss my run or bike or swim; a whole laundry list of “good” reasons not to do my work out. No one would know anyways. But on race day, when it matters most, everyone will know. You can’t hide behind excuses and you have no choice but to bare your soul to the running gods. You either did the work or you didn’t. I have done both and I can tell you one felt a whole lot better than the other.

So for me, I relate everything in life back to that experience.

Work is tough? No big deal. Stay the course, persevere, find a way to get through it and reap the reward at the end.

Marriage a bit rocky? Welcome to mile 22 of marathon day. Are you going to drop out or keep putting one foot in front of the other?

Your heart is broken and you feel like you can’t catch a break? Aaaaaah the joys of a good speed workout. Sucks right now, your heart feels like it could explode but if you just keep pushing, it will end and you won’t die in the process.

Feel like the task ahead is insurmountable? Sounds like a hill run to me. Slow down, breathe deep, trudge on…. You’ll get there!

I used to make excuses all day long. I would blame shift or try to explain my way out of stuff. And then I started running. Running keeps you honest. You either do the work or you don’t. I tell people running saved me and I really believe that it did. It saved me from a life of underachievement. It saved me from giving up on dreams and hopes and ambitions. Running took away my fear of the unknown and gave me the courage close my eyes and take the plunge. You’ll only under-train for a marathon once. And then the memory of that day will follow you… Every time you think of an excuse you’ll remember that pain and humiliation. You might think you are tough but a 5K will let you know just how tough you aren’t.

Someone once told me “Life isn’t about surviving one storm after another. Life is about learning to dance in the rain.” So, put your rain boots on, I hear the music playing…….

Hiawasee

There it is. Right in front of you. You can't see the top til you get there. Once you do, you can't see the bottom anymore. It's like hell on Earth while your pedaling. But when it's over, you don't remember how bad it was and you wonder about the next one, the bigger one, the steeper one, the harder one.... and so goes life....

Last weekend, I went to the mountains of North Georgia for what I refer to as a vacation--- full days of biking up the hardest mountains you can find, running the trails, and swimming carefree miles in the cool, open waters. For me, I can't imagine a vacation better than days with conquests so challenging you can't believe them when you see them. And nights so exhausted and yet strangely exhilarated by the fact that you did! Such a dichotomy of emotions....

We spent hours on the bikes during the three days we were there. It was good for me, for my mind and for my heart. I fill my life with people because I love people. I love their stories, I love to watch their reactions and emotions. People fascinate me with their unique struggles and backgrounds and dreams. I love the intimacy of quiet conversations about love and hope and despair. And I love them more when they are shared over the open road in the darkness of the wee hours of the morning. The last year has been so tough for me. I lost my baby, I lost my best friend and in some ways, I think I lost my mind. The pain in my heart is so intense that I feel the only expression is physical. I take the pain in my heart and disperse it into my workouts. When my body is tired, my mind is still.

As we biked up the steepest climb in North Georgia, I thought at moments that my quadriceps might rip from the bone. The air was thin, my lungs were hungry and at one point the darkness was closing in so rapidly I thought I might not even get my foot down in time. My chest was pounding as my heartrate maxed and I don't even know where the strength came from to take even one more pedal stroke. Each corner we turned revealed an even steeper climb with only the promise of another corner ahead. An hour and five minutes uphill. Pure Torture. But, when we reached the top and looked out over the valley, it was so clear, so beautiful, and so obvious. We couldn't see the whole picture until the end, not until we could really appreciate it. That's just how it is.... That mountain view would have been nice to someone who had driven up there but it would never have compared to the view we got to see. We put in the work and thus reaped our own reward- a deeper satisfaction in our work and a greater appreciation of the challenge.

We high-fived and gave our pats on the backs and exclaimed that we had never seen such a beautiful sight. Most importantly, though, we couldn't believe how far we had come. In the moment, in the pain, it was just about squeezing one more push out of tired legs..... left, then right, then left, then right. Now with the whole picture in view, it was the realization that the journey, no matter how hard or how long is always worth the effort.

I climbed back on my bike and started down the mountain.

I never hit the brakes.

40 mph clipped into a bicycle is a freedom and fear like nothing else.

“I believe life is constantly testing us for our level of commitment, and life's greatest rewards are reserved for those who demonstrate a never-ending commitment to act until they achieve. This level of resolve can move mountains, but it must be constant and consistent. As simplistic as this may sound, it is still the common denominator separating those who live their dreams from those who live in regret.” ~ Anthony Robbins

Sweat beads of Blackness....

In a normal day in my life, it is not unusual for me to go from one activity to another. I might meet a client or group to run and then head straight over to work in the studio with someone recovering from injury or someone on the pilates reformer. The other day was no exception, but as I was driving back to the studio I noticed that my clothes stunk. Not just a little un-fresh, either. Full on stinkage! I tried every trick in the book—baby wipes, smelly lotion, wiping down using the sink in the bathroom—all to no avail. I apologized to my client who politely said she didn’t smell me. Of course, she then suggested I try soaking my clothes in a bucket of double strength Oxi-clean until I was ready to wash them. BRILLIANT! Why didn’t I think of that? So, I bought some Oxi-clean and set about filling an industrial size mop bucket with water and cleaner and in went the workout clothes. This was GREAT! How exciting to have fresh-as-new clothes again! I felt like a kid getting ready for the 4th grade science fair…. Ah, the memories….plants and bugs and Jell-o and ….. but, I digress...

Knowing the stench contained within my poor, overused workout attire, I settled on 24 hours of soakage before extracting the clothes and washing them. Such a long 24 hours, too…. I could barely contain myself (embarrassingly). It was like getting a whole new wardrobe again, all clean and stink-free.

This is a testament to the mundane-ness of my life, I suppose…. Or to my inner nerd.

So, I put on my lab coat and goggles—ok that is a bit of an exaggeration…. But, I went out to the garage and began removing the clothes from the bucket and I was completely taken aback. I expected the water to be dingy, I really did. But, the water was BLACK, not tan or muddy or cloudy. It was Black, so black you could not even see the bottom of the bright yellow bucket. Disgusting. Truly and really, that is just gross. And embarrassing. And eye-opening. How could that much filth be contained in something that looked perfectly clean and bright and completely UN-filthy??

Most of the time when I run, I allow my mind to ponder things, to think deeply and to access the emotions and fears and thoughts that dwell deep inside of me. It is normal for me to talk to God as I travel through the early morning darkness. It is when I am the most honest, when I speak most freely, and expose myself. The wee hours of the morning allow me to admit to the places in life I come up short, to realize just how little I really know about life and marriage and all the things a person might wrestle with as they travel their worldly journey. Running takes all the uglies inside of me, brings them to the top and allows them to crack through the surface. Sometimes, I cry for things lost and days past. Other times, the rage within me can only be quelled by a workout so intense it would be frightening to witness. But mostly, I find joy out on the road. I clear my heart and I clear my mind and I make a little more peace with my place in the world and a mission too big to accomplish alone.

Maybe therein lies the answer to the black water. Maybe each drop of sweat carries a little of the blackness and darkness from inside my heart to the outside and each breath of the fresh morning air replaces it with lightness and joy……. Who knows? What I do know is that no matter how good or bad life is at any moment, I have a constant. Every morning I can get up and lace up my shoes. Sophie will always meet me at the door and God is always waiting to talk knowing I will discover another piece of the puzzle in the miles ahead. And when I return all sweaty and tired, my clothes will contain the filth. They won’t look dirty, but every stitch will be full of the worry and fret I left behind. And me? My heart will be full of the joy and possibility of a new day, a new challenge, a new mountain to conquer.

Who knew?

This past weekend a group of us went to do the Moss Park Olympic Triathlon. This was my first tri of the season and actually my first since Timberman half ironman last year (August). Needless to say, I was a bit nervous about the race and especially since my training schedule did not allow for a taper. I ran 12 miles the day before the race. And that is where the story gets interesting. Saturday morning, after running with my Fit2Endure training group, I went out to check on my bees. Yes, I have bees and yes they make honey (they are bees afterall) and yes they are so cool and yes I am a dork--- that should answer most of the basic questions. Oh, and no I have not been stung before..... until Saturday. Therefore, I did not know that it hurt so darn bad or that I would indeed have a "gross local reaction." The stupid little booger got me right where the ankle and foot meet and my whole foot became red, painful and incredibly swollen. I got some professional advice and downed a bunch of benadryl, which I also did not know would absolutely knock me on my rear, and went to bed that night praying the swelling would reside and my foot would fit into my shoe for the race. Race morning: Did you know that if you do not take medicine and then takes lots of it, you will have a hangover the next day? I did not. Now, there was a time when I was perfectly capable of functioning through a hangover or an all-nighter or any number of similar scenarios. Now, I am old and, that is not the case. It was horrible! My foot was still swollen HUGE and my head was killing me and I could have lay down on the side of the road and just fallen asleep. Not the ideal way to feel on race morning. I wasn’t going to go through with it but I packed my stuff, just in case, and drove there with everyone and stood doubled over by the truck trying to control the vomitous sensations pulsing through my body. What to do? What to do? One of the girls suggested I set up transition and then decide when the gun goes off or just drop out if I felt bad. Hmmmmm…. Not a bad idea. I go to set up transition and what do ya know, my shoelace breaks. At this point, I know it must be God telling me to just stop while I am ahead and forget the stupid race. But my Mr. Fix-it husband rigged my shoe and pulled me down to the water just as they were lining up the guys. I still had no desire to get going and I was pondering what the people swimming behind me might think of me as they swam through my puke when I hear, “Ladies, 10-9-8-7…..Go!” Please know that at this point, I truly had no intention of starting the race. I was not in a good place mentally or physically and I knew disaster was foreboding. BUT I had exactly 10 seconds to react and adrenaline, or God, or practice, or whatever took over and I snapped my goggles in place and ran right into the water with the other girls before I even knew what I had done. STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!! You absolutely cannot turn around and go back to the start against a mass of kicking and punching women in the water. I was stuck and my heart was racing and I couldn’t breathe, but if I was going to even get back to the shore, I had to calm down and breathe. So, I slowed long enough to catch my breath, swallowed a mouthful of vomit, put my head down and just focused on finishing that first swim lap. And wouldn’t ya know… by the time I rounded the first lap, I decided to try the second one.
I came out of the water 17 minutes ahead of last year’s time and that was just the boost I needed to keep going. All the way to a 2:28:xx finish-- A huge PR and a really respectable time. I was stoked!!
Here’s the thing, though: I was so close to not even starting. I was so incredibly close to not racing and missing the opportunity to know I could overcome challenges and still put up a great race. I almost missed the opportunity to gain even more insight to myself, the opportunity to challenge myself and push just a little harder than I thought I could. I almost let myself quit. Whatever it was that made me throw on my goggles and race out into the water with a bunch of flailing women, I’m really glad because I learned a lot that day about myself. I also remembered why racing has so much application to life. I didn’t walk away with a trophy on Saturday (4th place, oh well) but I walked away with these lessons heavy on my heart….

· Go ahead and proceed like it’s going to happen, you can always stop and re-evaluate along the way.

· Don’t take too much time to think about it. 10 seconds is just enough time to take the plunge and deal with the punches as they come.

· There is always another gear. You just have to decide to pedal that hard.

· Keep your friends close. Who cares about your enemies? Only your friends can lift you over the big humps.

· When you think you can’t take another step, you always can. You have to dig into your own soul and coax that athlete out, but you really can do it.

Who is a runner?

Last Saturday, July 4th, when the rest of the world was sleeping in, sunning at the beach, drinking ice cold beer and strawberry daquiris, or simply enjoying ginormous hamburgers, ice cream, apple pie and all the other tasty summer treats, I was pounding the pavement. I wasn't alone, though. Nope. Nine other silly triathletes decided to join me as I endeavored on an unsupported Olympic distance triathlon right here in sunny Lakeland, FL. We jumped right off the dock into a lake and swam 1 mile (gators be damned!), then hopped on the bikes and rode through the streets of Lakeland, and ended with a sweaty 6 mile run in the heat of the day. It was great and honestly, I really don't think I would have preferred to do anything else that day. But, thinking back over it makes me consider the running and triathlon community a bit. Maybe it's just Lakeland or maybe it's running communities in general.... I suppose it could also be the way I speak so convincingly of the fun of torturous endeavors or stupid human feats and thus recruit poor souls to do things with me. Whatever it is, I love being part of a community of people who are so in tune with the ideas of challenge, perseverance, personal sacrifice, and of course reward for a job well done (that would be the beer garden after a race)!

It's interesting to me that after high school suddenly the lines between the cool people and the dorks get a little murky and people redistribute themselves into new groups and even multiple groups based on anything from religion to sport to a love of some weird computer game. Running is one of those groups that seems boundless in regards to age, gender, nationality, ability....really, any limit at all. In one week, I may share the road with someone more than twice my age or someone who worships differently than me. I could race next to a landscaper, a doctor, or even a stay at home mom. And here's the best part! At the end, when we all stand around drinking water or Gatorade (or BEER!!!), we can talk endlessly about a common ground that unites us in some weird brotherhood. I know that every person standing there was once a beginner. I know they have all tried and failed. I know they all have accomplished something that satisfies them on a personal level like nothing else. We may never talk about it, but you can see it in the twinkle of an eye. It is apparent in the finishing moment when you see the pain on their faces contort to a smile so full of life and accomplishment. And you understand. You've been there.

I love running. I love everything about it. But I really love runners.

Meet Abigail. This is the newest addition to our family and we actually got her the weekend before we had to put Roxy down. Abby and I share a similar story- a spotty past with lots of let downs along the way, never quite understood, and in swoops the superhero to save us from ourselves. Roxy saved Abigail, she chose her from all the dogs at the SPCA as the perfect one to come into the family and fill the void. So far, Abigail has eaten two heart rate montiors, three shoelaces, a sports bra, a flip flop, a pair of sunglasses, a lap watch, some socks, a multitude of stuffed animals, and more raw hides than I can count. There have been moments when I have wondered if Roxy chose this dog to get me back for something. Today, though, I am confident that Abby was chosen because, like most things in life, she is teaching me a lesson and preparing me for challenges that lie ahead.

The thing I love about Abby is that she has absolutley no limits in her little doggy brain. She does not realize she is smaller than Sophie, she does not realize we are stronger than her, she does not realize she just simply cannot run 20 miles (yet). She has no idea that the squirrels are faster or that the cat has sharper claws or that a growl is any kind of warning whatsoever. Now, I suppose it's possible that she is just plain and simply dumb. Okay, that is actually quite possible. BUT, I prefer to think that she is fearless, without bounds, unwilling to submit or conform to her surroundings. I prefer to think of her as "Abigail, the Conquerer!"

I watched Abigail this morning as she "conquered" Sophie's bowl of food. Sophie did not find this interesting in the least and instead stood by growling and barking her protests as Abby gobbled up everything in sight. But, I did. I realized that every day we have a choice; we get the opportunity to choose how to go about our day or our run or our job or maybe even just our slot in life. We can be like Sophie and stand by and protest and watch our life be gobbled up by someone else, or we can choose to be like Abigail. We can set about the goal unaffected by the nay-sayers and protesters, completely oblivious to the fact that there is any limit to what we can do in a lifetime. I hear comments everyday about how bad the economy is and how people can't find jobs and how tough it is out there and I say "Rubbish!" Sure, things aren't quite like they were and money is a little tighter. Maybe we have to think twice before we pull out the debit card or we have to skip a meal out here and there, but put your earplugs in, friends. We live in a great country with more opportunity in a day than some people see in a lifetime. We have hope and possibility. We have choices. As for me, I choose to be like Abigail. And while they are busy complaining, I'll eat their food, too!

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize." 1 Corinthians 9:24