running through the blah-ness

As you can probably tell from my last post and the ridiculous length of time that has passed since then, I’ve been struggling with motivation.

Apparently, this is not an issue for Cardi B.

The blah-ness is usually at its worst on my long runs, so I’ve had to employ some strategies to keep things interesting. A few ideas that have worked for me:

Podcasts. Until very recently, I never ran with headphones (or earbuds or whatever the hell you want to call them – I’m old) because I was convinced I was going to get abducted and murdered or run over by a hybrid. Then I bought a pair of these guys, which allow me to listen to podcasts while still being able to hear my surroundings. Life-changing!

Current favorite podcasts include “Women Who Travel” (love the interview with Jessica Nabongo, who is currently on track to become the first Black woman to travel to every country in the world), “Work Play Love” (retired pro runner Lauren Fleshman and her pro triathlete husband, Jesse Thomas, talk about motivation in sport, work-life-training balance, and self-acceptance as an athlete – all wonderful, positive topics for a long run), “This Filipino American Life” (the episodes cover so much of what growing up was like for me), and “Game of Thrones” fan theory podcasts (no shame for my inner geek – love me some Bald Move and Binge Mode, but ugh with the way Season 8 went).

Finding new routes. I tend to run the same two routes over and over again, which is incredibly boring and tedious. So I’m trying to mix it up, even if this means simply running one block over from the street I usually run on. It’s a small change, but at least there’s something new to look at. (Side note: You know you’re old when you enjoy checking out people’s yards, taking mental notes about which perennials you should incorporate into your own landscape.)

Spotted these on a recent run. Aren't they pretty?

Signing up for races. I’ve been using local races for my long runs – instead of competitions, I view them as supported long runs where I’m surrounded by people, can practice my nutrition/hydration plan, and not get distracted and spend 20 minutes shooting an Instagram story about a random cat on the sidewalk. I did the Hot Chocolate 15K in April and the Birdtown 13.1 this past weekend and had a great time. No PRs were set (that wasn’t the point), but they were both successful training runs.

Races are also a great way to make friends, dead or otherwise.

allez allez

Last month I ran my first race in France.

My aunt (who is also my godmother and the visionary individual who introduced me to J.R.R. Tolkien, inspiring my life-long love of Middle-earth and a somewhat unfortunate dwarf rune tramp stamp) and I took advantage of a fare sale and escaped to Paris for a long weekend.

Coincidentally, our weekend away was also the same weekend of the Course de la Saint-Valentin, a 10K organized by the Paris Frontrunners, an LGBT running club. The race is four hilly loops through the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, which is one of my favorite places in Paris and also happens to be where I rolled my ankle and ended up with a cuboid stress fracture six years ago. I took this as my opportunity for a do-over and signed up immediately.

C'est magnifique!

One thing to know about racing in France: There is a mandatory medical release form for every race. It must be signed by a doctor, and you will get e-mails in French every few days until you upload the completed form. Luckily, I had my annual physical in January, so timing worked out for me to have my doctor complete it. (Also, my aunt – in addition to being a book binding artist, owner of a massive stamp collection, and mother to a crazy cockatiel named Gershwin – is a doctor. So I was doubly covered.)

And then there was the race swag.

Yes, that is a condom. When I showed it to my aunt, her immediate comment was, “So is that French sizing?” (She was also quite thrilled by the sexual health literature that accompanied said condom. Best French vocabulary lesson ever.)

Race day was equally awesome. Many runners were in costume. (My favorite: Gay Ninja turtles, complete with green body paint.) And the active warm-up was a riot – I couldn’t stop laughing! (Picture Mario and Luigi joyfully doing squats.) And crowd support was on point too. (There were drag queen cheerleaders who swatted you on the butt with a leather whip as you ran past.)

Post-race yoga with your favorite Nintendo characters.

 This was a slow race for me (much hillier than I’m used to – finished in 1:00:59), but I had a blast!

running as metaphor

Wilder opening circle (photo by Jess Barnard)

Confession: I've been sitting on this post forever. I started writing it two weeks after Wilder, but was having trouble getting it to exactly where I wanted it. So I never hit publish and just let it languish in my drafts folder.

This is exactly everything anti-Wilder, which was all about letting go of perfection and still being able to find a way to say, "I am satisfied."

photo by Jess Barnard

So I'm making myself hit publish now. Here goes.

Almost two months have passed since I got back from Wilder (and yes, time does seem to go by faster as you get older – this article proves it’s a legit thing), but I can't stop thinking about that wonderful weekend in the woods.

Those trails – I’m a road runner, and the roots and moss and rocks made me nervous, and I worried about reinjuring my ankle, and my calves and my glutes got sore, and my lungs strained, and everything felt hard and so very slow, and at one point, someone mentioned ticks (wtf, people, way to freak me out). But I kept going (even if it meant walking at times). And the view at the top was so worth it, and I never want to forget the blue of Penobscot Bay and the trees just starting to turn colors.

Can you blame me for wanting to go back?

And you know what I realized (besides the fact that I have zero clue what to do with a tick)? Writing is a lot like running. It’s hard and it can sometimes suck and you have to put in the work before you see any results, but the secret is keep going. Keep going even when your writing is awful and sappy and embarrassing, keep going even when it’s uncomfortable, keep going even when you feel like you’re wasting your time. Because in the end, it’s worth it.

Wilder founder Lauren Fleshman (photo by Jess Barnard)

There were goats! I love goats!

I'm the awkward one in the blue tank top (photo by Jess Barnard)

hi, September. bye, September.

My boss started a new meeting process called three things. (And no, this isn’t a reference to the number of snacks I eat in every meeting. Although it could be. There was that one time I dropped an entire salad on the boardroom floor in the middle of a meeting with our whole curatorial staff and the editor of an important arts publication. I’m still embarrassed.) It’s about sharing the three projects that are top of mind at the moment.

So I’ll get to the point. Three things:

One

I got into Wilder -- a writing and running retreat led by former pro runner Lauren Fleshman – and leave for Maine tomorrow morning. I haven’t started packing at all and will probably spend tonight frantically throwing shit into a suitcase, but I’m beyond excited. It’s an honor to be selected as a participant.

 
My relationship with writing is weird. (And wasn’t that just the most profoundly literary sentence you’ve ever read in your whole life?) I love it and am terrified of it all at the same time. I want to start writing fiction again, but I still have PTSD from grad school. There’s something about creating that feels so naked and vulnerable. It’s bizarre – I have no problem making an ass out of myself in the pool (want to see me attempt the fly, anyone?) and putting in the hours for a massive goal like Ironman, but when it comes to sitting down and starting a short story (much less finishing one), I’m scared shitless.

So I’m hoping Wilder will be what I need – a way to shed the icky, competitive grad school feelings, get messy, and channel some of the same energy and passion I’ve put into triathlon, all while exploring a beautiful place (autumn in Maine!) and meeting inspiring humans. (And maybe, if I’m really lucky, some inspiring cats too – because you never know. Like my ultimate fantasy would be waking up to the sound of meowing outside my cabin and finding a tiny orange kitten who would then be my muse for the rest of the trip and then I would take her home to Minnesota and name her Merwin after W.S. Merwin – who cares if he’s a man, minor detail – and then my army of cats would become even stronger.)

Two

I wasn’t lying about the fly. I joined a masters swim group and have officially survived Week 3 of my attempt to become a “real” swimmer. I can now not only do a flip-turn, but a backstroke flip-turn as well! However, I still resemble a dying frog during breaststroke, and I laugh hysterically when the coach asks us to do IMs. Equally hilarious: Dolphin kick with a board, a.k.a. spastic wiggling in the middle of the pool while clinging to a piece of foam. (Dear people with kids: Make them go to swim lessons so they don’t become me when they are adults.)

Full disclosure: This isn't the Phillips pool. But this is an accurate depiction of my swimming.

Oh, and inside tip: If you live in Minneapolis and are looking for a masters group that is primarily beginning-to-intermediate swimmers who are super welcoming and totally focused on learning, this is the workout for you. It’s at the brand-spanking-new Phillips Aquatic Center and only costs $30 for the entire session, which runs through Dec. 20. (For comparison, yesterday I spent $40 ordering Halloween costumes for cats, and I’m pretty sure that won’t make me a better swimmer, so $30 for masters swim is like the best deal ever.)

Three

Is it just me, or as you get older, do you become more of an introvert? Don’t get me wrong – I still love throwing a good party (like the time we had Yia Vang from Union Kitchen come over for a cooking class and then somehow stayed up until midnight and a bottle of 1977 Port was consumed, among many other things).

But I want to leave the house less and less. (This is not helped by the fact that I recently discovered Instacart.) And now that it’s fall and the daylight is waning (I like that word – “waning”), all I think about is sleeping. (I’m also reading this book, which is basically about a woman who quits her life and sleeps for a year. My feelings on it fluctuate between “Wow, this character is remarkably flawed, with some serious psychological issues” and “Dear god, she’s a freaking genius.”)

opt outside

You know what feels really damn good?

Being able to swim, bike and run outside in November.

Big Ginger and I spent the past week in Sacramento with my family. While we were there, we ran on the American River Trail ...

... swam in an outdoor pool ...

Can you tell I'm excited?

... and did the local turkey trot. (For the record, I missed a 5K PR by 11 seconds, which is amazing, since this race was super crowded, I haven't been running much recently, and I'm recovering from a bad cold.)

Official finish time: 25:31. My 5K PR is 25:21. So close!

And then we came home and -- holy holiday miracle -- it was warm enough to ride outside.

public service announcement

Don’t eat this before running.

think positive thoughts

I'm running the Hot Chocolate 15K tomorrow, but the last thing I feel like doing right now is racing. (OK, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. Of course I'd much rather run a race than, say, projectile vomit onto a wall with a velocity so forceful that the vomit immediately splashes back on my face. That would clearly be much worse.) I'm exhausted from training, I'm frustrated because my last two swims have been pretty craptacular, and "heavy thunderstorms" are predicted for tomorrow.

Accurate feelings.

Blah, blah, blah. Whine, whine, whine. You get the picture.

I need to fix this, so I'm creating a list of 10 times when I felt like a goddamn champion so I can call up these happy memories if I'm still feeling dumpy on the course tomorrow. So much of training and race prep focuses on the physical, but mental strength is just as important and often gets taken for granted.

So here goes. Let's flex those mental muscles, baby.

1. IMAZ 2014, the first Ironman. It was a culmination of hard work, a celebration of strong friendships, a turning point in an otherwise shitty year. Quite possibly the best day of my life.

2. The first time I completed an Olympic distance swim. After struggling with my fear of open water for so long, I wanted to cry with joy when I did that swim without freaking out even once.

3. Canyoneering in Costa Rica. Want to feel like a bad-ass? Jump off a cliff.

4. When I climbed Green Valley Road for the first time and didn't have to get off my bike and do the walk of shame.

5. The night I arrived in Seattle. After driving for 14 hours from Sonoma County with two very confused cats (Mouse did not yet exist at that time), it hit me I'd be starting a totally new life in a city where I knew no one. And I felt excited.

6. When someone asked me, in French, for directions in Paris. This is how you know your outfit looks good. (Also related: When I successfully bought tampons in French.)

7. When I broke the two-hour mark for a half marathon. (Side note: I'd really like a new 13.1 PR. It's been awhile. But that's another goal for another time.)

8. Cutting my CSS pace and realizing I don't have to be in the slow lane forever. God, I want a sub-2:00/100 swim time so badly.

9. When I was on a relay team for Iron Girl and it felt so good to pass a ton of people on the bike and our team kicked ass and we had a blast.

10. Vineman 70.3. My favorite race ever. I'll never forget the first time I crossed the finish line -- again, a feat I never in my life thought I'd be capable of. Or the year I set a PR there and it was cathartic and I ran straight to Layla and cried my little heart out.

You know what? I'm feeling better already.

take that, winter!

I did it.

I ran outside in -2 windchill and didn't die. And I still have all my appendages. (Side note: Did you know penis frostbite is a thing? I learned that today. I also learned you should never google "frostbitten penis.")

The key is good gear and covering every bit of your skin. (Read Megan's winter running tips for an awesome breakdown.) I was a little nervous about getting it right -- would I be too hot or not warm enough? What about my eyeballs? And dear god, would it be horrible waiting for my Garmin to find a satellite? (Answer: Yes, it was uncomfortable but doable.)

I wore a fleece-lined beanie, a ninja mask balaclava, sunglasses to protect my eyes from the wind, a long-sleeved technical base layer, a 2/3 zip pullover, my North Face Isotherm jacket, fleece-lined gloves, tights, Smartwool socks and trail shoes for more traction. My core, fingers, toes and face were warm throughout the run (just 40 minutes), but my butt and thighs started to go numb after awhile. (I think next time I need to double up on the pants.)

The run itself felt great. I can't tell you how excited I was to be outdoors after being cooped up on a treadmill for so long. (Is this how I get out of my running funk? Only run in ridiculous weather conditions to keep things interesting?) I took it easy over the icy patches, though -- I'm terrified of taking a nasty fall. (This happened to me in grad school a long time ago. I got out of my car, slipped on a patch of black ice and hit the ground hard -- in front of a lot of people, of course. I've been paranoid ever since.)

What I loved: How quiet it was out there. Like having the whole world to myself. And the scenery -- the snow transforms everything.

Also: These signs that the nearby elementary school made are pretty much the best thing ever.

I don't ever want to see my poop cry.

The Minneapolis PD is standing by.

(Huge thank you to The North Face for the cold weather gear! It's great being part of the TNFLocals program!)

a half marathon happened

When Layla and I get together -- like we did for the SeaWheeze half marathon in Vancouver earlier this month -- hilarity ensues.

Dear Vancouver: You were warned.

It's like we forget how to be adults.

Absolutely play with your food.

And pose with taxidermy.

Wait, it gets so much better. Better than you ever thought possible. In fact, the Best Thing Ever.

ROAR.

Dear Asian cosmetics store that convinced us to buy these masks age-defying beauty treatments that allow us to live our dream of being in the cast of "Cats": Thank you. (Although maybe being in "Cats" was entirely my dream and not Layla's. Dear Layla: Thank you for supporting my dream. You are a good friend. And now there is a scary photo of us on the internet forever.)

Oh, and the race? That was fun too. Yes, we waited in line for three hours to get into the expo store and then promptly proceeded to lose our minds and start grabbing everything in sight. But in the end we were rational, narrowed down our purchases and avoided being in debt for the next 20 years due to Luxtreme.

Spotted: The fine line between entrepreneurial and insane.

Shenanigans and shopping aside, the race itself was great -- a lot better than I expected. We all know I've been struggling with motivation when it comes to running. (I can ride my bike all day, every day, but lately with running, I'll do everything possible to come up with excuses. I've actually started running point-to-point routes and taking the Nice Ride bikeshare home because biking has become how I reward myself for slogging through a run.)

Meanwhile, Layla was recovering from an achilles injury. We didn't have high hopes, so we seeded ourselves with the 2:20 pace group. Our plan was to start together and then see what happened -- no pressure to stay together. (Because we're chill and well-adjusted like that.)

At the starting line!

Yet somehow -- I've never done this with anyone ever -- we ran every single step of the race together. The only times we got separated were at the aid stations, but then we always found each other afterward. Both of us finished in exactly 2:13:17. (Feel free to interpret this as a metaphor of our deep and profound friendship.)

And then we took photos with towels on our heads because that's the sort of thing we do. (Again: Friendship.)

Other thoughts on the race: Grab your girl friends and sign up. SeaWheeze is well-organized, the course is pretty (a few little hills -- nice change from the Midwest), the crowd support is awesome and the swag is good (shorts!). But know that the course is long (my Garmin said 13.45), the lines can try your patience (getting the post-race breakfast was insane) and some of the aid stations this year had people dressed in nude full-body leotards jumping around and cheering and it was really scary and I could barely handle it because nude full-body leotards.

However, at Mile 12, there was a man with a sign that said "Think Happy Thoughts," and I may or may not have said "Penis!"

Anyway.

Since SeaWheeze is a lululemon event, there was also a lot of yoga.

I didn't participate; I just took awkward photos of a sea of strangers' butts. 

ask me about discomfort

Current status:

Do you like my pedicure?

Remember my recent "my left knee hurts" complaint? Turns out my left IT band and hamstring are so tight they've been pulling on my knee. The pain was enough yesterday that I skipped my long run and then went to the chiropractor today for some intense Graston action. Hence the bruising (which is a totally normal thing after this treatment, I promise). I'm already feeling better, but may still keep the running easy, especially since I'm less than three weeks away from Vineman.

Anyway, this weekend was a brutal one for training. The heat and humidity were overwhelming. (Dear Minnesota: I thought you were supposed to be cold. WTF.) I did my long ride -- 65 miles -- on Saturday. Even though I brought ample hydration and nutrition and followed my plan exactly, by mile 45, I knew something was wrong. I started feeling really drowsy -- like I could just shut my eyes and fall asleep mid-ride.  

The part when I seriously considered lying on the side of the road.

And it got worse. The air was stifling, and when there was wind, it felt like a hair dryer hitting my face. And when I stopped at a park to use the restroom, taking my shorts off was a struggle because they were so soaked through with sweat. (However, I was happy I could still pee. At least there was that.) And when I got back on the bike, I started to feel chilled, and my heart rate was in zone 4, even though I was riding really slowly.

(Meanwhile, this entire time, I also had a bug bite in the crease between my upper thigh and my lady parts. So imagine that too -- sweat plus awkward bug bite plus extreme heat plus hours in the saddle. And if you're wondering how the hell I got a bug bite there, it happened at last week's race. I changed out of my tri shorts into regular shorts after the race, and somehow a bug flew up there. And I totally felt it happen. It was like a sudden pinch. And I actually stuck my hand up my shorts to figure out what was going on. And this was mid-conversation. So if you happened to be the person I was talking to while I shoved my hand toward my crotch in discomfort, sorry.)

Thankfully (my awkward bug bite and) I made it safely to my car, only to learn the outside temperature was 95 degrees. I nixed the T run and went home.

Not the most productive training weekend.

happy global running day

I feel pressured to write about running since today is Global Running Day.

But really all I can think about right now is how I cut the big toenail on my left foot too short and now it's bothering me and my toe feels very exposed and vulnerable and I should probably take my sock off and examine my foot because I did indeed run today for Global Running Day and it's completely possible that I irritated my toe during the run which would be a shame since today was the first really good run I've had in a long time and the weather was perfect and overcast and cool and I had the trail all to myself and other than the sound of gunfire from the nearby shooting range everything was lovely and peaceful.

Dear Coeur: Does this bra come in safety orange?

Please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks putting a shooting range next to a trail is a strange thing.

that only took four years

Because I am an extraordinarily intelligent human being who respects her body and its need for recovery, I did the New York City Marathon three weeks after Ironman. As you can see from my official race photos, I had an absolute blast.

Walk of shame in an unflattering shirt? Nailed it!

My left hamstring was so excited for this race that in the weeks between Ironman and NYCM, it allowed me to run a whopping total of five miles. And I would've deferred the marathon, except I've been deferring it (or it's been deferring me) since 2011. And I was out of deferments. And since I got in via lottery and the chances of ever getting in again are very slim, I told my hamstring to suck it up. (OK, maybe it was more like: "Let's at least get to the starting line, and if this is really awful, then I promise we can get on the subway and go home and eat pizza.") 

The demeanor of a true champion.

Race morning dawned, and Neveia, Margie and I left the apartment we were staying at on the Upper West Side at 6:45 a.m. and squeezed onto the subway.

Then we stood in a huge crowd waiting to get into the ferry terminal.

My fashion choices for this race were spot on.

Then we stood in another huge crowd waiting to get on the boat.

When we got off the boat (which was so crowded we sat on the floor and I tried not to think things like, "What if a previous passenger got seasick right here and now I'm sitting in it?"), there was a huge line to get on some shuttle buses. 

"Being squished is fun!"

It took us three hours to get to the start area. And then we began running at 11 a.m. (Pro tip: If you ever do this race, bring a portable lunch that you can comfortably eat while your face is pressed against a total stranger's back.)

Anyway, I made it to about Mile 14 and was somehow on track for a PR, but then everything about my left leg started hurting. And then I did the run-walk-shuffle thing until Mile 18. And then I just decided to walk. And for awhile, it was fine because I was walking with a random guy named Jerry who was also having problems with his hamstrings, but then around Mile 21 or so, Jerry barfed, and we all know how I feel about barfing, so I said farewell to Jerry. (For the record, there was a lot of barf in this race. The most horrible thing I saw was a woman jamming her fingers down her throat, making herself puke. I wouldn't be surprised if that sight alone was the whole reason Jerry lost his cookies. Because it was pretty disgusting. And hey, now you can have that mental image forever too! You're welcome!)

Walking those final miles was slow and painful and not very fun at all. I amused myself by taking pictures of my favorite signs.

I would like to adopt these people as my own.

Dear random strangers: I love you.

I finished in 5:41:25, for a brand-spanking-new personal worst marathon time!

And then I got in a huge crowd.

On the plus side, Margie qualified for Boston, so we celebrated afterward with some bubbly.

And I did get to eat a pizza (gluten-free of course).

And now I can cross NYCM off of my life bucket list.

P.S. Those are pirate pajamas. And I may or may not still be wearing them as I type this post.