Wordless Wednesday (Busy Bees Edition)

I really love running on the Miccosukee Greenway. The terrain varies from extremely "root-y," to grassy, to my favorite, crushed shell. There is a big grassy space that is probably roughly a mile around to circumnavigate. I often include it in my route.

Saturday, as I rounded a turn in my favorite grassy area, I noticed a spot that had been isolated by tape:

I thought perhaps a tree was down ... or there was a big hole in the ground ... or they had recently sprayed some toxic herbicide there or something. I did not expect this:

And (no lie) you could see all of the swarming insects buzzing around close to the tree line.

If you are one of my regular readers, you know how I love signs that make you scratch your head (well, they make me scratch my head at least!).

My thoughts about this sign:

a) Are the stinging pests supposed to stay away? It does say, "Stinging pests stay away!" As a grammar lover, I might suggest as an alternative: "Stay Away! Dangerous Stinging Pests Here!"
b) Interesting that theoretically it's okay outside of the tape but not inside the tape (I guess maybe there's a nest in the tree or something)
c) What's the deal with the phone number? Do the stinging pests have little tiny phones they are supposed to call with if they can't resist staying away?
d) Of course you know I couldn't resist calling the number. The number leads to the Leon County Division of Parks and Recreation, which tells you if it is an after hours emergency to call the Leon County Sheriff's Office. That is assuming you haven't lost all oxygen to your brain from the anaphylactic shock you may be in by this point.* 

*Important caveat. Although this post pokes a bit of fun at the Parks Division for the sign, I am a die-hard fan of the Greenway. As a runner, I never take for granted how well-maintained the greenway is, and how fortunate we are in Tallahassee to have miles and miles of safe and beautiful running areas. I frequently see the work crews out there keeping the bathrooms and other areas clean for our enjoyment. I am sure it is this care and commitment that led to the placement of the sign in the first place.

Fewer Races, Faster Times (Hopefully)

"The Last Banana"

When I first started blogging regularly, I planned to chronicle my efforts to get out of "the last banana club." This post is the first one I ever wrote about my goal of improving my 5K time to the point that I could finish in less than 30 minutes (and have a broader post-race snack selection than that last sad banana half).

St. George Island Sizzler

June 27, 2009

As I approach the three-year mark of that goal (without having achieved it), I find myself utterly unable to commit to any other goals for 2012 (I usually have 3 goals for each year). It is time to admit that, although I have definitely made progress, something I am doing (or not doing) has to change in order to get me there.

I finally purchased a heart rate monitor. I purchased the heart rate monitor when I entered into a coaching relationship with Coaches Jeff and Diane of PRS Fit. I have spent this first week talking back and forth with Jeff about my goals of running a 5K in less than 30:00 and completing the Boston 13.1 Marathon for Autism Speaks on September 16, 2012. One of the keys of establishing the coaching plan is an assessment. The assessment thus far has involved the heart rate monitoring and preparing to adjust my weekly workout schedule.

I did a maximum heart rate test on Tuesday (and, for the record, ran my first sub 10:00 minute mile in the process!); and lactate threshold testing on Thursday. Yesterday involved one of the first adjustments I have had to make to my workout plans. Prior to having a coach, I had planned (for yesterday) to run a 10K race here in town. Subsequent to having a coach, I ran 1.5 hours instead, keeping my heart rate in my Zone 2, with a three minute push at the end. The goal is to build an aerobic base.

Coach Jeff's rationale for forgoing the 10K is that I was making a common mistake: racing too much, training too little. As much as I missed everything I love about racing yesterday -- my friends, the excitement in the air, the challenge, the race pictures we would see afterwards (hey, maybe one of these days I will like one!), the results, and helping a good cause (in this case, Ronald McDonald House Charities of Tallahassee) -- the coach is right in this case. I would have completed the race, I would have LOVED it, I would have had some good stories to tell.

But I would not have known enough or learned anything else about my body, my technique, or my mental approach to make any changes that would make a lasting difference in my 5K speed.

I also know I am probably going to have to change my fitness schedule around so that my Tuesday intervals aren't followed the next day by boot camp* with stadium stairs (because there is not enough recovery time between the two). It has taken me so long to get to a point that is a hair below dread every Tuesday night that I have asked the coach to leave intervals on the schedule in lieu of doing something different with the time I have been devoting to reaching Row 85 of Doak.

As much as I will miss my boot camp buddies, I'll pay the price for now.

Anyone want to do stadium stairs with me some other night?

Run for the Cookies

February 12, 2012

*(Here's a blog about boot camps - note Doak camps are usually on Wednesdays now.)

Running Free

“A woman who surrenders her safety pins need not surrender her dignity.” 

Okay, okay, the line from Wally Lamb's "The Hour I First Believed" is actually:

“A woman who surrenders her freedom need not surrender her dignity.”

.....but in the case of the women I ran with yesterday at the Gadsden Correctional Institution in Gretna, Florida, safety pins held a lot of symbolism for me.

I am not sure why I end up writing about safety pins so much (such as this post and this guest post on Running Toward The Prize.) I suppose someday I will own a race number belt and won't be writing about safety pins anymore.

I didn't think much of it yesterday when I pinned my number on at the inaugural Gadsden Correctional Institution 5K. I've pinned numbers on for races countless times before. Let me give you a little background to explain why I was standing inside a correctional institution in the first place.

Less than a month ago, David Yon wrote an article for our track club about a visit that he, Mary Jean Yon, and Elizabeth Stupi had made to the Gadsden Correctional Institution to speak to the members of the prison's running club. (I really encourage you to read the article.) One of the things David said in the article was that the warden (who is a runner himself) wanted "to see the 12-week training session culminate in a 5K race, with members of the community invited to participate." 

I immediately emailed David after reading the article and told him that I would be interested in participating in the 5K if it ever came together. In true Gulf Winds "get it done" fashion, it came together rapidly.

As it turns out, it takes quite a process to get 20 civilians (some of whom were men), into an all-female correctional institution. "Quite a process" includes completing a background check form, heeding instructions about what to bring (driver's license or no entry), how to dress (men must have shirts, no "sports bra only" styles for women) and how to pay our "entry fee" (donate a new or used book about running).

After we went through the initial security checkpoint, we were taken to the recreational field. This field is the only place at the facility where the women are usually allowed to run. 10.5 times around makes a mile.

The women were in uniform shorts and tshirts. I learned later that they have a choice of three styles of athletic shoes from a specific catalog. For all the time most of us spend obsessing about heel lift, motion control, arch support, and other intricacies of running shoe design, it was a sign that these women love running that they will run in the only shoes available to them, shoes that do not appear to be specifically designed for running.

You could argue that a 5K is a 5K. Distance is what it is. But I witnessed more than a group of runners traversing a typical race distance yesterday.

Things I heard along the way, either overheard or in direct conversation:

Wanna know where I was at this exact same time last year? Receiving chemo.

It was so nice to run on the pavement! (For this race only, the group was allowed to run in a different area of the facility. We ran around their usual recreational field loop once, then ran four laps of a route around the perimeter of the facility but inside the secured area, of course.) The route ran past groups of women/staff cheering us on, past the gorgeous flower beds created and cared for by inmates in the horticulture program, past the most determined-to-hydrate water station volunteers I have ever seen at a race.

The real magic (for me) happened after the race. Completing this 5K was a very big deal for these women. "I did it!" was the exclamation of many of the finishers. One woman had never run longer than 1.5 miles and had gotten added to the race roster at the last minute. She was so proud.

I had an extended conversation with a woman named Michelle who plans to be a fitness trainer when she gets out later this year. She said, "the day I get out, I am doing yoga at the beach, either at sunrise or sunset."  (There is yoga offered at the prison, along with aerobics and other wellness activities.) She couldn't wait to write her family to tell them about the run.

I talked at length with two women who had lots of basic questions. How long is a half marathon? How long is a marathon? How do you do a Disney race? What do you listen to when you run?  (They all had transistor radios and headphones; they said they hope to get mp3 players.) Do you have to belong to a running club to do a race?

I talked with a woman who is my age (47) who talked about recidivism and minimum mandatory sentences. She said she has seen women return to the institution 2 and 3 times. She talked about the 5:30 a.m. wakeup of fluorescent lights coming on overhead. She said once she returned home, she would hope her family understood when she just stood in front of the refrigerator and cried, happy to be able to eat what she wanted when she wanted to.

I learned a lot in a couple of hours about the impact of prescription drug abuse and minimum mandatory sentencing.

As usual, I was toward the last of the finishers, but I still got to hear a few ecstatic cries of "I did it!" I also heard "This was my first marathon." Who am I to correct? It may not be 26.2 physical miles but this feat was a race about more than movement of the feet.

The women shared about the programs they are involved in at the prison. There are several programs that involve animals, including greyhound rehabilitation and training dogs for Canine Companions for Independence. The inmates who work with these animals explained what a sizable privilege it is, and that they are held to extremely high standards behaviorally in order to maintain that privilege. 

When the warden presented awards (watches) to the top three inmate finishers, he gave a concise and impassioned speech to everyone who had participated, reminding them that even if they didn't win a prize, they should be proud of what they had done; he talked about expanding the running program so it was easier for women to keep up with their progress. He reminded them that they had their race numbers as keepsakes.

 

If I as a community member was thanked once for coming, I was thanked a hundred times. 

I would go back in a heartbeat. Such incredible conversations. Such testimony to the ability of running to empower people. 

I heard the women reminding each other to return the safety pins that had been holding their numbers on. They weren't allowed to keep them. My friend Elizabeth said she had returned hers too, so I decided that if they couldn't keep theirs, it was probably a good idea to turn mine in also. By the time I came to that decision, there was no one left to turn them in to.

I arrived home with four extra safety pins. 

Along with the safety pins, I brought home images firmly burnt into my head of women who have surrendered their civil freedom (for now) but found freedom of body, heart, and mind as they traversed 3.1 miles.

 

(We weren't allowed to take our cameras in (although some of the staff took pictures so I 

hope to see some of those). I took this picture right before we drove away.)

Follow up addition ...... this is a group photo that we just received (4/25/12):

Truman Would Tell Me To Stop (A Mama Kat Writing Prompt)

This week, random.org "chose" Mama Kat prompt number five for me: What is the one "vice" you can't give up?

My vice is not immoral or illegal. It doesn't even cost a lot of money.

It is (drum roll please) the nightly snack.

I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't have a nighttime snack. There were times when it was something "lighter" (like a Weight Watchers ice cream snack when I was on Weight Watchers). It's pretty much a 47-year-old habit, whether light or "heavy."

I have heard some people say that calories are calories, whether you eat them at 10 a.m. or 10 p.m. I have heard more people say that calories before bedtime are not good for a nutrition plan. After all, they are just going to sit there in your digestive system looking for some activity to fuel. Last time I checked, brushing teeth, reading, and sleeping aren't super-demanding activities.

The one time I was successful in avoiding (and not wanting) the nighttime snack was during my and Tenley's trip to Guatemala last summer (see #9 in this post).  We had a satisfying dinner around 6 p.m. every night, followed by an activity (such as a speaker), then took showers and went to bed. The "nightly slowdown" came so early compared to my usual habits that I would read and fall asleep. There weren't nighttime snacks to be had, and I didn't miss them.

I know that my nighttime snack is a grown-up pacifier - I like the routine, I like the taste, I like slowing down long enough to do something pleasurable. When I have a freelance project underway, it marks the end of a long couple of evening hours of proofreading/editing on top of my day job.

When I have thought about meeting with a nutritionist, I have envisioned the conversation going something like this:

Nutritionist: "It is good that you kept a food diary before our first meeting. The skim milk every night is good but what's the deal with the Double Stuf Oreos?"

Me:  "I'll do anything to keep 'em! Run an extra mile! Eat less some other time! I want to lose weight so I am more likely to run faster but I love my evening Oreos."

Nutritionist: "You know that's almost 1,000 extra calories a week, in those Oreos alone?"

Me: "1,000 extra calories that are weighing me down when I run."

Nutritionist: "Run away, as fast as you can, from that nighttime snack."

Me: "Here I go ................."

"If I want to be great I have to win the victory over myself."

- Harry S. Truman

Run for the Cookies (And For Sherry) on February 11

On Saturday, February 11, Wayne Kevin and I will be running in the annual "Run for the Cookies" 5k (me) and 1 mile (him). In addition to our official "cookies" race bibs, we will also be wearing this bib on our shirts:

Sherry Arnold was a runner from Sidney, Montana, who was abducted early on the morning of January 7, 2012, and murdered. Two men are in custody, for this crime (her body has not been recovered). For more facts about the case, visit this link:

This case has resonated with me for so many reasons, including the fact that Sherry was a mom, wife, and runner. I can't change the outcome but I can do my part as a member of the running community to tangibly show my support.

Sherry's cousin, Beth, of Shut Up + Run, has created a virtual run as a way to show Sherry's family the support of runners (and anyone willing to move) from all over the world. The plan is to do this on February 11. And it's simple: run, walk, crawl, row, bike .... whatever ..... a 5K (3.1 miles) while wearing Sherry's bib. Here is Beth's original post explaining this event.

This is simply a support/awareness run. However, there is a way to donate toward a fund for Sherry's children here via the "donate" button.

If you participate in the virtual run, Beth is encouraging you to submit pictures that she can share with Sherry's family (see a few of the early birds here). If you choose to do your own post about this (great idea, dontcha think??!!), please send the link to Beth so she can share it with the family also. Her email address is beth@shutupandrun.net.

To recap the instructions for participating in the virtual run on February 11:

Print out the bib:

A pdf is available here: http://www.races2remember.com/images/previews/Sherry.pdf

Then: 

• Mark your calendars
• Print out a running bib and pin it to your shirt
• Gather your friends, your running club members, your families
• If it’s wet where you are, “laminate” your bib with postage tape and punch holes in it
• If that time doesn’t work, go when you can (the official time for the run is 9 a.m. M.S.T.)
• GO. Run as far and as long as you want. Walk, hike, cycle, rollerblade if you don’t want to or can’t run.
• Please share this on your blogs, Facebooks and Twitters
• Keep it simple. Just run with Sherry on your minds and hearts.
• You can also connect with this event on Facebook

Let's show Sherry's husband, Gary, and Children Holly and Jason that they are not alone.

(Runners at the Sidney (Sherry's hometown) event will release helium

balloons that have notes to Sherry attached during their February 11 activities.)

Red or White?

I had not planned to write a Mother's Day post. But when I called to order a corsage for my mom to wear to church on Mother's Day, the simple significance of Barbara Carter's question sealed the deal.

The question: Red or White?

I realized when I was commenting on Julianna Baggott's "Happy Birthday" blog post to her mother, that this seed of a post had to sprout.

My comment was this:

Very eloquent and simultaneously comical post. When the florist asked me yesterday (about my mother's Mother's Day corsage) "red or white?" I thought, what a perfect blog post title (southern tradition dictates you wear a white flower if your mother is deceased and red if she is still alive). I am glad I would still be eligible for red.

In her homage to her mother, Julianna writes that her mother gave her the greatest gift a mother can give a writer daughter, permission to write about her. I don't know if my mom has given me that gift. I suppose this post is more of a way of wresting the act of writing about her directly out of her hands whether she is ready to give it or not. I do know I hurt her to the core with the scathing analysis of our family that I wrote in my college family relations course and left out in a public area after letting a friend read it. I really thought I knew a lot about how our family had been shaped back then. Now that I am raising my own family, I think I just need to steer my kids away from family relations courses requiring papers that rely on self-disclosure. Engineering would be safer and more lucrative anyway.

For my mom, I had to order a white orchid. Vila, her mother and my grandmother, passed away years ago. When I think about my mother's stories of insisting she follow her older sister to kindergarten, even though she was only four (rules were much more relaxed back then), of how she loved her "with the girls" lifestyle in Lake City before she married my dad, I think I can detect the independent streak that I inherited. It may have driven Grandma Vila a little nuts.

Me? If I were wearing a Mother's Day corsage, it would be red, since my mom is still living. One of the things that troublesome paper touched upon had to do with me being an only child. When I find myself too wrapped up in one of my children's projects, friendships, or hobbies, I often wonder what it was like for my mom to have all of the offspring "eggs in one basket" (my father has two sons from a previous marriage). I remember her following behind me when I was running around the neighborhood as a high school runner, worried about some cramping I had been having. It drove me nuts. Running was then and still is about freedom, not being weighed down by a tan Chrysler station wagon 10 yards behind me going 3 miles per hour. She, on the other hand, didn't want me to end up face down on the pavement or the shoulder of the road, overtaken by some horrible runner's malady.

Although she hasn't given me permission to write about her, and I rarely do, today is the day to be thankful that I still qualify for "red." My friend Audrey used to send her mom Evie flowers on her (Audrey's) birthday, on the premise that Evie deserved to celebrate the accomplishment of giving birth (and raising a child) as much as Audrey deserved to have her milestone commemorated. I think Audrey had it right.

In conclusion,  here's to a mom who has me seeing "red" on Mother's Day.

Sprinting Toward a Bold 2011

It is odd. The word "bold" keeps insisting upon keeping its grip on me.

I wrote this post about being bold in December 2010. One of my favorite bloggers, Kristi from Live and Love Out Loud wrote her own great post about boldness. I flirted with (and decided to have an ongoing relationship with) this quote, that I read on "Daily Good":

Leap, and the net will appear (attributed to Julie Cameron). 

It should not have surprised me, then, that when my friend Patrick Detscher and I started corresponding about his recent opportunity to run a 200 meter race at the 168th Street Armory in New York City, a venue on which he had previously run 30 years ago.

Without further ado, and with gratitude to Patrick for a great New Year's story ... 

A New Year is upon us,

The train ride from Westport, Connecticut to Grand Central is less than an hour; the epic blizzard had reduced rail service to a weekend schedule. Renee was seated comfortably next to me for this short and compelling train ride. As young adults, we had made several ventures into this region when we knew one another 35 years ago. For some reason, this trip was different. As you know; just as a person can’t just “show up” for the Gary Droze FSU Interval Sessions, held every Tuesday at 6:30 pm, nether can they just stroll into the 168th Street Armory in New York City and run.

The new track at the Armory amazes me, as does the vintage wooden track which lies just beneath it.

I can’t claim any of the spike marks on the wood floor picture above are from my shoes when I ran on it three decades ago, however, I can tell you that the facility is called Jungle Land for many good reasons.

The track is very fast in that centrifugal force applies here. If you run fast enough, the high banks can be your friend, run slow and the track draws you toward the center, just like one of those yellow funnel devices which steal quarters as the coin spins gracefully toward the center opening. It's New York City and the same kids, who once upon a time, did everything they could to elbow, trip, shove and spike other runners are now middle aged dudes.

While running the 200 meter race, I received a warm welcome as I rounded the final turn in lane one; an elbow to the ribs was all it took to send me reeling into the inner area of the track. With God’s help, I was able to step over several sets of sprint blocks and cross back over the rim which runs around the center of the track, while still running full tilt for a second place finish.


Sprinting in the urban areas of New York, which my High School Coach Bill Mongovan exposed me to, will always be a unique and physical type of race. Even though I wasn’t disqualified for leaving the track, the dude who threw the elbow is no better for it. You see, even in Jungle Land, mindful competition is achieved without elbows; by making yourself better and running both harder and faster.

This New Year belongs to the BOLD.

Remembering Ordinary Moments (A #Reverb10 Post)

It is no coincidence - none - that I loved this #Reverb10 prompt the first time I read it:

Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?

Author:  Brené Brown

And I don't think it is a coincidence that I saw this sign in the bathroom at SweatTherapy Monday night as I was changing clothes:

And it most certainly can't be a coincidence that when I asked the Random Number Generator to "assign" me one of 27 #Reverb10 prompt options, that I got this prompt! 

I started thinking about "ordinary moments" that have brought me profound joy in 2010, and although I thought the decision would be difficult, the answer came to me quickly, as long as I could indulge in two examples.

Around and Around

I can't possibly count how many times I have run the same 1.7 mile loop of Hawk's Landing Drive in 2010. I can easily sense the stark difference between all of those loops and the four months when I was not running. Because of my crazy schedule, I often run at night.  The sights are a little dull, but the combination of fresh air, solitude, and motion (and the fact that I've pretty much got the neighborhood dogs convinced I am okay) have done more for me than mood elevators that would have cost money and time. Even if I am listening to a podcast, music, or a book, it is the one time that my mind is free to wander. My mind needs that. All of me needs that. The joy of outdoor running in the dark. 

"Dad, I Need a Ride to School"

My son usually takes the bus to school. Occasionally, he will ask Wayne (my husband) to take him to school if he needs to be there early for a meeting or other activity. He is not super-organized enough to ask for the ride early or in advance, though. One night, I was sitting in the computer room, listening to the family talk outside in the living room, when I heard:

Wayne Kevin (son): Dad, you need to take me to school tomorrow.

Wayne (dad): What for?

W.K.: I have a meeting.

Dad: What kind of meeting?

W.K.: SWAT

Dad: FOR WHAT?

W.K.: SWAT, you know, Students Working Against Tobacco

Important piece of information - Wayne (dad) has been smoking since he was a teenager. He's 52 now. My children have always had a smoker for a parent (just stating facts here, not condoning).

In that moment, I was blown away by the fact that my son, who is as often as not a major goofball, was standing up for something he believes in, knowing how difficult it would be for his dad to swallow. (Truth in advertising: it probably didn't hurt that by joining SWAT, you got to miss a day of school for training but still .....).

The joy of overhearing an ordinary ride request with an extraordinary rationale. 

....sometimes it's more than just enough

When all that you need to love

Is in front of your eyes.

(February Song - Josh Groban)

Goal Deferred

Once a week, I get an email from Pulse Magazine.  Subtitled "Voices from the heart of medicine," the magazine "tells the personal story of health care," frequently from the providers' perspective.  I have read of doctors who can pinpoint the moment where the lost the ability to empathize, medical personnel candidly recounting their worst days (and what they learned from them), and patients' efforts to cling to shreds of hope as they battled horrific diseases and a medical system that is difficult to navigate.

In its New Year's post, the magazine asked readers to chime in with their wishes.  Dr. Maurice Bernstein, of the Keck School of Medicine at the University of Southern California, wished for this:

For my first-year medical students, I wish that their interest in patients as persons continues into next year. For my second-year students, I hope that when they enter their clerkships in the summer they will remember what they learned about humanism and will still think of Mrs. Mary Jones as a patient in room 210 and not as "the gallbladder in 210."

It must be tremendously difficult to think of "patients as persons."  As I revise my timeline a heck of a lot longer out than I had hoped for running my sub 30:00 5K, I reflect on a summer of trying to figure out what was wrong with my heel, a journey that detoured through two men with medical degrees before being put back on track by a shoe salesman and a massage therapist. 

When I first started experiencing heel pain in early July, I had (in retrospect) just started doing homegrown turnover drills and completely changing my mechanics to try to stop heel striking.  I iced it, babied it, took lots of ibuprofen and, like many of us, kept on running!  Stop #1 was at a chiropractor (who does have an MD degree also).  He proclaimed this issue as plantar fasciitis, and had his staff apply an ultrasound treatment.  (He did have access to my xray, which did not show anything amiss.)  I came back 5 or 6 times for more ultrasound treatments (with a copay each time).  At my follow up visit with him, where I explained that the pain was radiating up my entire calf, he essentially told me to get better/different inserts and/or shoes.  HMMMM.

Next stop:  the podiatrist.  When I look back on the interaction, I am not sure he even touched my foot (although he did look at the xray).  His diagnosis, within 3 minutes of chatting briefly with me:  plantar fasciitis.  His remedy:  stretching, ibuprofen, inserts (that he happens to sell for $45 each).  As I left, I was handed a few poorly copied handouts with stretches on them.  HMMMM again. 

When I posted a whiny Daily Mile workout report mentioning my alleged PF on Facebook, I heard almost immediately from Shannon Sullivan and the light at the end of the tunnel began to break through.  He has dealt with many runners over the years and has probably seen more runners' feet than you can shake a Thorlo sock at.  I visited him on a Sunday afternoon and he spent a good hour with me, trying to help me sort it all out.  We talked extensively about the onset of the issue, how it had progressed, and what I had tried to do about it.  We looked at my shoes (important tip when dealing with any foot/heel/ankle issue and runners - have your shoes with you when seeking answers).  After feeling my foot, he said, "I don't think you have plantar fasciitis."  I think I heard little New Balance clad angels singing.  Why?  Because he had listened to me; when I explained that I knew PF pain and this was not it, I wasn't told to cough up a copay and stretch. 

The second part of my rescue team is Kim Ortloff.  She and I were slightly acquainted through Gulf Winds Track Club, and I sent her an email briefly describing my situation and my theory that this was not PF.  When I met with her and she spent an hour reviewing the situation and kneading deep into my foot/ankle/calf muscles, I walked away feeling understood and having an answer.  The answer is that the changes I made in early July led to some type of insult to my subtalar joint, and that resulted in the constellation of other issues I had.  Besides some answers about my specific injury, I gained a great deal of insight into how I can better guide my body through the healing process and return to running (five minutes at a time?  really?  is this like an auction -- ten minutes anyone?  please?). 

When I look back on the summer and my attempts to get answers and stay on target toward my goal, I just wish I had been more assertive with medical degree holders #1 and #2.  I wanted to shake them by their Hawaiian shirt (#1) and lab coat (#2) and say:  don't you realize how much running has come to mean to me???? 

I am already seeing silver linings to this situation, like my intensified cross training, the money saved from not paying race entry fees, and a few more hours sleep on Saturday mornings.  When I return to running, I plan to be fitter than I am now, and more prepared to aggressively stalk that sub 30:00 goal (less the turnover drills, perhaps). 

This seven foot rope (for stretching) is going to be my new best friend:

I just wish doctors #1 and #2 had done a little stretching themselves to try to run a mile in my shoes -- I think the answers would not have been quite as cursory if they had done so. 

Wordless Wednesday

Saturday, August 21, 2010, will be National Trail Running Day

talk

 

"dirty"

 

to me

 

This photo was taken at 5 a.m. before the "Balls Deep 8 Miler" on the Miccosukee Greenway on June 11, 2010 (photo credit Leisa Eastman)

Faster, With More Energy

I love being an extra on film sets.  When I try to pin down exactly why I love being an extra, I find that the reasons refuse to define themselves in a linear list.  I enjoy having a "bird's eye" view of the production process, the great people I meet, and the sense of common purpose shared by cast and crew.  Because my full-time job is filled with tasks that will not show any type of defined outcome for years (if ever), it is nice knowing that putting in hours on set now will result in something to watch at an appointed time.  Here is me in a "jazz club" scene for Waking Eloise, an MFA thesis film I know I'll get to see in August.  Hooray, a defined outcome!  (And note the look on my face because it applies later on in this blog.)

I have been auditioning at the FSU Film School twice a year for about five years now.  Until today, I chose one of the "sides" provided by the film school for each audition.  With these sides, one of the FSU Film students reads a part and I read the other while being filmed.  After the first reading, one of the students gives direction about how to read the part differently, and I read it again.  This time I did a monologue that I had chosen; doing so gave me the opportunity to memorize the part in advance.  I have found that trying to read material I am not that familiar with while also trying to emote and make eye contact with the other "actor"/the camera is disconcerting.

As much as I love being an extra, I discovered when I had an opportunity to have a speaking part in an FSU Film (Water Wings), that I love that too, and that the experience rocked my "I -want-to-express-myself-in-addition-to-being-a-mom-of-two-kids-with-a-full-time-job" mindset out of dormancy. (Read about it here.) When I prepared for Water Wings, my role was a monologue with several accusatory questions in a row:  "Why did you do this? Why did you need to hurt me? What was so wrong? What couldn't you take?, etc." When I practiced this at home, I spoke them as I read them, with pauses in between each question. As it turns out, the Director wanted more of a rapid fire delivery. Check.

It was in giving me feedback about today's first monologue delivery that Aaron Nix summarized in four words an improvement I need to make in my acting (foreshadowed by Shane Spiegel's direction in Water Wings) that I also want to make in my running (and in my life).

Faster, with more energy.

As of noon today when the audition occurred, I had not decided what the subject of tonight's blog was going to be.  I still want to write about the "scientific so," but that requires more research (pun intended) as does the reason that several convenience stores I frequent feature men's undershirts and clean "tshirts" near the checkout (apparently sales are brisk, even at a significant markup).  But Aaron's four words crystallized a great blog topic, so here goes.

Last night, in preparation for today's audition, I decided to record myself delivering my monologue.  Someday, when my acting improves and if I accumulate additional credits, I'll get a good laugh out of this.  There's only so much you can do with your point and shoot camera when you are holding it at arms' length and recording yourself, but I saw enough to decided that a) my glasses create a barrier that doesn't help me engage and b) my delivery was so low-key that I wouldn't want to watch me! 

Practicing My Monologue (Slow, With Less Energy)

With Aaron's feedback about my second delivery today, the direction I received in Water Wings, and my own observation from my self-recording last night, I am starting to detect a theme!!  Furthermore, what's with that de-energized look on my face in the shot from "Waking Eloise"?

It's exactly what I want out of my running:  Faster, with more energy.

For running, getting to that sub 30 5K is obviously going to require "faster," but the "more energy" part is something I can tackle.  I think sometimes I apply restraint to my running on the premise that I need to conserve energy when there's more need to push myself, and to apply more energy to the things in my life that can improve my running, like better eating habits and more challenging cross training.

As for acting, I love it therefore it's time to figure out how to get to "faster, with  more energy."  As Seth Godin says in his blog about the dangers of the category of "neither", "If you spend your days avoiding failure by doing not much worth criticizing, you'll never have a shot at success."

As the week begins, I encourage you to look for that territory beyond neither.  As Godin says, opening yourself up to taking the risk of being criticized may lead you to "encountering the very thing you're after."

I'll "run" into you next week, readers.  I'll be the fast, energetic one!

Some of the wonderful friends I have made on set -- this one is "Banoffee Pie," and FSU Media Production Narrative Project film!

Answering the Call

Ring ring!  Ring ring!  Ring ring!

Tony Sturges was in the middle of reading a passage from Exodus 3:1-15 this morning at church. Moses had just encountered the flaming bush. Tony had just read, "When the Lord saw that he [Moses] had turned aside to see," when the cell phone started ringing. It wasn't a "ding a ling" kind of ring, more of an insistent "tech-y" sounding beep. Some readers would have ignored the ringing and forged ahead, trying to keep the parishioners focused. Not Tony. He stopped reading, and waited for the ringing to stop. My guess is that this choice was out of reverence for the word of God, not to embarrass the phone's owner. (Or maybe it was a reflex from years of teaching college and dealing with students' cell phones going off in the middle of lectures.) Whatever his reasoning was, it turned out to be divinely inspired, since the continuation of the sentence he was reading was, "God called to him out of the bush." It took Tony (and the rest of us) a while to stop laughing and to regain some semblance of Sunday morning attentiveness.

There are two other thoughts related to "God's call" that I want to share in today's blog.  The first has to do with yesterday's Thomasville Road Baptist Church 5K/10K, a race held every year to benefit the Florida Baptist Children's Homes.  Since my blog is still (occasionally!) about running and my quest to run a 5K in less than 30 minutes, here's a 2009 vs 2010 comparison:

2009 (5K) 41:28 (13.27 min. mile)  -  2010 (10K) 1:17:10 (12.27 min. mile)

The other thing I want to point out about the Thomasville Road Baptist Church has nothing to do with distances, splits, or routing (how is it possible that Tallahassee goes only uphill anyway??).  It has to do with our numbers, which are handed to us in this condition: 

Look closely at my number.  What do you see in each of the four corners?  While we all need a safety pin on each corner of our race number, only at the Thomasville Road Baptist Church race do the numbers come PRE-PINNED!!  When I got my pre-pinned number last year, I thought the pre-pinning was quaint.  This year I realized that the TRBC volunteers consistently do this.  It's an example of "customer service" that a lot of for-profit businesses could do well to take note of.  Yes, we can pin our own numbers on, but this one tiny touch of "let us make it a great day for you" is representative of an organization that wants to ensure everyone has a first-class experience.  According to Grea Bevis, the Race Director, this is a responsibility of the packet pick-up committee.  When a business (or church group) takes time to attend to little details like this, we customers notice and remember.  Nice job, TRBC.  I know you do this because you feel it is "part of your call" to serve God and community.  Next year, I'll "pin all my hopes" on racing with you again. 

While I am on the subject of things we feel "called" to do in life, especially when we feel God has a hand in it, for the second week in a row I am citing Seth Godin's thought-provoking blog.  Today, he talked about how so many huge corporate behemoths have gotten things turned around, putting the "factory, the infrastructure, the systems, the patents, the process, the manual" ahead of the "irreplaceable people, the linchpins, the ones that make a difference."  It is those irreplaceable, linchpin people who disperse a "call" throughout an organization, living out that organizational mission in every professional choice they make.

If you have personally lost sight of your "call," I encourage you to use this week to look for an opportunity find joy in going the extra mile, putting the "pins in the numbers" ahead of time, and helping a coworker or friend do the same.

I'll "run" into you next week, readers!

Going the Distance

Yesterday, Wayne Kevin and I ran the Women's Distance Festival race in Indianhead Acres. I was really happy to run my second sub-39:00 race in twelve days, and Wayne had a good mile run as well.

My original draft for this blog talked about one of the main topics of curiosity on Wayne's part when he started running the 1 mile in this race in 2006 -- why are the street names so funny? (We always park on Kolopakin Nene, which apparently is an authentically Seminole way of saying "Seventh Trail."). I learned that the original developers wanted to name Jim Lee Trail "Humpin Nene"! Some ideas are better left not implemented.

Back to original programming ......

After the 5K, I helped set out the prizes for the one mile run - TOYS!!! After the kids finish their run, they are called up in the order of their finish to choose a toy as their reward. Here was the loot freshly arrayed:

And here was the loot surrounded by the excited kids as they awaited the 1 mile awards:

Between taking picture #1 and picture #2, I watched all the kids finish the race. The most dramatic moment of the entire day was this neck-and-neck finish between Lilly and Austin, who finished within .29 seconds of each other:

I don't know the full backstory of why these two 7 year olds were so bound and determined to prevail over each other. The finish was right up there with one of Michael Phelps's oh-so-close finishes in the Beijing Olympics.

What I do know is that no toy in the world will bring out the tenacity I saw in these two young people yesterday. It comes from somewhere else deeper in the soul.

Each child got a goodie bag yesterday in addition to their toy of choice. (They could also choose a trophy instead of a toy). These rewards for getting up early, running a mile, and pitting yourself against your goal of choice: beating your most recent "best" time, beating a worthy competitor, earning "grand prix" points, or just finishing the race, are important incentives to get kids out to our races and integrated into the world of running.

Lilly's and Austin's toys, along with all of the other ones earned yesterday, won't last forever. But that building block of "I can do this" is no child's play ---- it will "go the distance" of a lifetime.

Sometimes It Is Easy to Let Go

I worked a race Saturday (Coach Mike's Run for the Kids 5K), so I didn't do any personal banana counting. (I did run the course afterwards, and after the uphill grade of Mitchell Drive, I understood those stressed looks on finishers' faces at the end.)

Throughout my run of the course, I was brainstorming what to blog about this weekend. There wouldn't be any pictures of me to post (not that those are likely to bring on new followers!). I wasn't with Wayne Kevin as he competed in the Stone Creek Kids' Triathlon in Valdosta, GA, so I wouldn't be able to count on pictures of that.

Well, Jeff Bowman took care of the picture end, and my brain took care of the "topic" end. So here are the pictures (photo credits to Jeff Bowman):

And here is the takeaway:

Back when Tenley did competitive gymnastics, one of the other moms had to miss half of the meets because her son played football on the same days. I could not imagine how she could bear missing her daughter's meets. This was around the same time that I was talking to Tenley's former third grade teacher about helping her with anxiety about moving schools, and I said, "we will work on the anxiety." She rightly pointed out that resolving the anxiety was not really a "we" thing. The issues Tenley was facing would be most readily resolved with her in the driver's seat. It was time for me to release my grip -- although I could provide parental support in abundance, I couldn't fix this problem for her.

Yesterday, however, I had virtually no qualms about not being in Valdosta with Wayne. I certainly can't help him swim, bike, or run faster. I knew he would have fun being with his friend Alex, going to Wild Adventures afterwards (possibly the prime draw of the day), and being outside participating in the triathlon. If he had a bike accident? That's what first aid is for. If that nagging big toe nail that is partially ripped off made it hard or impossible to run? Wayne would have to decide how badly he wanted to finish the race. I also know from plenty of observation that he's a different boy when he's with a "dad" coach than when he's with mom.

So when I left to run the Schneider 5K course, knowing that he would probably call while I was out, I felt very relaxed about the outcome of his morning. I did have a "missed call" message when I returned. When I reached Wayne he was a) happy to be on his way to Wild Adventures, b) reasonably happy with his triathlon morning, and c) telling me he loved me. Nothing about nagging hanging toenails.

Wayne was number 32 yesterday (I guess he will be for most of the week because it's written in sharpie on both arms and legs!!).

Just like the numbers that won't wash off easily, this new phase in our parent/child evolution won't easily fade for me either.

I'll "run" into you next week, readers!