Jingle Bell Run 5K - Somerville, MA

This race had a mission. After my interaction with the race organizer and his definition of "real runners," I knew I had to rock this race.
And I had to get my message across as well. A trip to AC Moore and a half-hour, and I had this:

Sunday morning we got up, had a leisurely light breakfast, and then headed to Somerville. I mentioned to Erik that I wasn't as nervous for this race like I was for the Superhero 5K. Was this a bad thing? Was I getting cocky? Erik said no, it was a good thing, that I wouldn't be anxious.

We arrived and found one of the last parking spots. We took turns walking to the port-a-potties for those last pre-run potty runs, while keeping the little one in the car to stay warm as long as possible. I found fellow runners Amy and Scott, and we walked back towards the car. We also found another running friend (Jules). We gathered Erik and the girl, and went to drop her off with grandparents so we could line up.

I lost Erik as I walked to my spot (I found out later he neded yet another run to the portables); so Scott and I walked back towards the back. We decided to stay near the "12 minute" gate, looking at some of the folks there and assuming they were more our pace. I kept fiddling with my shoes, tying and re-tying, worried they were too tight, then too lose.

And then the crowd started moving. We did the jog-jog-stop for a bit. We crossed under the START balloon arch, and I was off!

Holland Avet towards Teele Square was a steady incline. I kept telling myself that I used to walk this street when I was a smoker, so running up it should NOT be a problem. I got to the top, turned onto Broadway, and felt the need to walk. I let myself walk a few hundered feet to a pedestrian sign, and picked up the pace again.

North Street was where I saw the MILE 1 sign, and let out a cheer! The picture of the Harpoon Bottle helped with motivation.

As I hit Powder House Blvd and the loping hills, my motivation came in the form of the other runners. Unlike the Superhero, I was never alone on this race. I was surrounded by other runners...and walkers, mostly walkers. I kept getting compliments on my jacket, and then when I explained why I was wearing it, I would get even more words of encouragement.

The hills of this race made me grateful that I trained on hills in Dedham. As we neared Tufts and the rotary turn onto Broadway, an announcer called out my name, asked if that was right. I gave a thumbs-up and a wave, and he said "Good job! Thanks for joining us today!"

My second walking bit was after mile 2. A steep climb and a water station equaled me taking a little bit of time to catch my breath and get some water in my dry mouth. I couldn't swallow, so I swirled around and spit it out on the road. I wasn't the only one to spill water and with the cold weather led to a bit of an icy patch. I walked past the station, and then started the downhill jog.

This gave me enough momentum to keep going when hitting another hill on Cedar Street. I started noticing runners walking the other way. I knew I must be close to finishing. I turned on to the bike path, where I had the smoothest pavement the whole race (gotta love New England streets). I picked up my pace. I knew I was close to finishing.

Then, I saw it: The finish line. Unconsciously I started running faster. I was having trouble catching my breath, so I forced myself to slow down for a little bit longer. Erk came off the sidelines and ran past me for a bit, cheering me on. "I'm trying!" I yelled.

I decided to pick up my pace and try and blow through the finish line. This was harder than expected because of the pedestrians clogging up the finishing path. I started yelling for folks to move out of my way, and I pushed it.
I checked my time on my RunKeeper app. My time was 49:21, average pace 16:06. I was so happy I finished under 50 minutes! When I checked the results, I saw my offical time was 49:18, with an average pace of 15:52. AWESOME! This is about five minutes faster than my last 5K.

Despite the organizer being a jerk, and getting one of the craptastic racing shirts, I had a blast in this race. I never felt alone, and I got a sweet medal (that doubles as a bottle opener) that makes up for the shirt.

Instead of celebrating in the Square (lines were loooooong), we went back to JP and had some Harpoon Winter Warmers and finished the celebratory meal with a mud pie cake I shared with my little girl.

Happy Winter Holidays, everyone!

Ho, Ho, *Burp*

I was up before dawn this morning, on a 16-minute mile pace run for 3 miles. It was cold. It was dark.

It is also the holiday season. With this time of year comes the food. That lovely cupcake is courtesy of the building my company is in. Today is "Design Your Own Cupcake Day" in the lobby. There was red velvet. I could not say no to red velvet cupcakes!

I also could not say no to the amazing food at my husband's work party this past weekend. From the appetizers (baked brie with raspberries!) to the buffet (roast beef with roasted potatoes), to the desserts (eggnog mousse-filled chocolate cups!), it was a very yummy event.

So I make sure to get those runs in. Not just for the race that's in 13 days, but to be able to enjoy the yumminess of the season and not pay for it in my waistline.

The Shadow is a Lie

I started working hills on Saturday morning. During the weekends, I can go out later in the mornings. This works in that I can actually SEE the road I'm running on. The downside? I can see my shadow.

Just like Peter Pan, my shadow & I do NOT get along very well, especially while running. I'm chugging along, thinking I'm making Freddie-Mercury-rock-star type pace, and then...I see this shadow next to me. Is it LIMPING? It looks like I'm barely walking, let alone running anywhere! What the hell am I even doing, thinking I'm running?

I do know that this isn't true, that it's that evil gym teacher in my head, trying to psyche me out of finishing the run. So, whenever I see ShadowMe waddling along, I tell myself that it's not true; the shadow is a lie. It becomes a mantra if it's bad enough: The Shadow is a Lie. TheShadowisalie, theshadowisalie...

How do I know it's a lie? I see my pace from RunKeeper. Machines can't lie. This past Sunday, a fellow parishoner from church stopped me on the way out and said, "I saw you out on the VFW Parkway the other day. I can't believe how fast you were going!" And sweet old church-going men DEFINITELY don't lie!


...oh, and that race in December? Signed up, ready to go!

Pony Play

I'm thinking about another 5K, the last one before switching up my training for the winter. Friends are doing The 3rd Annual Jingle Bell Run. I go and look at the site, and I come across their awards schedule:

"14 & Under, 15-17, 18-29, 30-39, 40-49, 50-59, 60-69 & 70+; Clydesdale Open & Masters 190-210lbs., 211-225lbs.,226lbs.+;Filly 140lbs.+ Open & Masters"

First, what the heck are these awards for overwieght runners? Secondly, why isn't the divisions for "Fillys" as broken out as the "Clydesdales?"

Apparently, the horse divisions are classifications for plus-size participants, and is starting to become more common in races. However, that still doesn't answer my question. Why the difference in the weight ranges for men and women?

Before I get my feminist dander up, I email the race organizer for more information. Here's the exchange, with me in purple, and the Jingle Bell-er in red. I only edited for my own spelling, and to remove redundant award information:

Me: Good afternoon, I was looking at singing up for your 2010 Jingle Bell Run, where I saw the awards structure ...Can you explain why the "Clydesdale" division is broken up into so many divisions, yet the "Fillys" are not? I ask because it doesn't seem fair to not have the same division breakdown for both genders. So I was hoping you could shed light on that.

Response: because more big fit athletic men participate than big fit athletic women...absolutely nothing unfair about it all....

Me: Thank you for the quick response and explanation. That's pretty sad, then that more women aren't competing.

R: I can only lead em to the scale....can't pick em up and put em on it:)

Me: I was just surprised to see the 200+ range for the guys, and not for the girls. As a 200+lb female jogger, it kind of is stinky to be lumped in with the 140+ range.

R: Divisions not for joggers...they are for folks running. hard and racing...they are competitive divisions

Me: okay, that makes MUCH more sense. Thank you for taking the time to explain it, I appreciate it!

R: Keep on jogging....it will get you to racing some day...good luck

I look back on this exchange and cringe. I can't believe that I let someone talk to me like that. If that was in any other situation, I would have stood up for myself more, and argued about the sexism and EXTREME SIZEIST bias that was going on here.

But, I didn't. Why? You can see it where I call myself a "jogger." Right there, I purposefully chose that word, because I was scared if I put that I was a plus-size runner, I'd get a response that would be the equivalent of a "sure, sure you are honey," and a pat on the head. I really felt like I didn't have a leg to stand on, because even to myself, I can't believe to call myself a runner.

I thought about boycotting the race on principle. Instead, I'm going to do this race. I need to think of something witty to put on a shirt, or find as many Athena runners to join me in this race, and prove this Responser-Person wrong.

To be continued!

Da d-da da, Da d-da da!

100 miles! I've run over 100 miles. That's almost four marathons!


I hit 100 miles this morning, my first run after the 5K. The leaves were thick on the trail today. On my return trip, I noticed that after slogging through the tangle of wet foliage, on the clear path my pace was picked up. A rudimentary form of resistance training!

I love that even though I've completed the goal of running a 5K, there's still more milestones to accomplish. I don't know what's next, but I'm feeling strong and confident that I can do them.


My apologies to The Proclaimers. I know it's not 500 miles...yet!

53:45

I ran a 5K on Sunday. Wait, let me do that again.

I RAN A 5K ON SUNDAY!

I got up that morning, so SO nervous. I knew I had to eat, but my stomach was in knots. I took a shower, then ate a yogurt and 1/2 a naner. Sweetie & I got dressed in our running costumes, packed up our stuff and The Girl, and headed into Cambridge.

Sweetie dropped me off so I could get our numbers while he parked. I ran into my inlaws (who would be watching the girl), but I was too nervous for chitchat...I NEEDED our numbers! Found our names, got in line, and then, there it was, my bib with my name and number on it. This wasn't the first bib I've gotten, since I was in the JP Morgan Chase Challenge three years ago. However, this was my first bib for a race I planned on running in.

Sweetie showed up with the Girl, and after quick trips to the port-o-lets, he helped me pin my bib on, and attach the D-Tag (D-Tag info)to my shoe. We met up with another friend who was racing, and checked out the other people in costume. There were a LOT of Wonder Women around - I guess there's not a lot of female superheroes to go around - and quite a bit of cleverness. I didn't go for clever; I went for running-functional clothes, and modified them to look Wonder-Woman-esque. In the 80's TV show, she had different outfits for different activities, so I consider my costume "within cannon."

They announced to line up for starting. Sweetie and I parted with kiss, him to the front, and I moved to the back. I met two other women there, also graduates of the Couch to 5K. One of them was also running her first 5K today. As we were chatting about our experiences, another announcement: they lined everyone up the wrong way, so now the back was the front! I quickly moved to the other end of the line. I did not want to be trampled in my first race.

And then I waited. I had this almost out-of-body moment, as I was watching this sea of costumed people milling about, then there was this quiet "gong," sound, and the sea realized it was supposed to move! Little by little, the sea would ripple as people went from walking to running. I took my iPhone out, hit the Start button on Runkeeper as I crossed the starting line.

The beginning of the race was a bit chaotic. I couldn't hear my music as everyone was talking and yelling and cheering. I heard "Wait for me, Spiderman!" and other calls of running mates to find their partners. We turned a corner. Some cut across the sidewalk; I stayed on the road, because I'm a perfectionist like that.

The Wonder Woman bracelets for some reason were distracting me, and catching on my iPod wire. I ripped them off, and stuck them to my running belt. Shortly after that, the edges of the WW emblem kept catching my hand on the upswing. RIP! RIP! off those went. I tossed them aside, mentally promising to pick them up on the way back.

Around the turn onto Mass Ave, shin splints hit. I had made the mistake everyone warned me about; I tried to keep up with the other runners. Now I was paying the price. I slowed down, and started walking. This is what I was afraid of. I would start out running, something would happen, and then I would end up walking the route, and walk across the finish line, a failure. I couldn't let that happen. I WOULDN'T let that happen!

I started to jog again, this time at my own pace. "I Got a Feeling" by the Black-Eyed Peas come on, and I got into my groove. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw friends from church, waving at me and cheering me on. I was doing it, I was running the 5K!

Further down Mass Ave, my Mother and Sister -in Law tried to run out to see me...in the street. I waved them away, yelling "Back! Go Back on the corner!" I was in a zone, and did not want to break it by trying to talk to people. Also, Mass Ave was not closed to traffic, and Mother-In-Law was holding my daughter...I did not want to be thinking about that.

The turnaround was down Bay Street. REALLY down. As I was loping down the hill of a street, and across Green Street, I realized this meant that there would be an equally steep up. Sure enough, I turned and faced an almost 45-degree incline of Hancock Street. I remembered my friend A talking about facing hills, so I kept my head down, dug my knees in, and up I went.

I kept back down Mass Ave. I met up with the water station as they were packing up. Fortuitously, one of them saw me, and brought me a cup of water. That was the BEST drink of water I ever had. As I neared a construction site, another volunteer pointed me to the sidewalk to circumvent the site. At least I hope he was a volunteer, as I handed him my empty cup (I didn't know what to do with it!)

Further down Mass Ave, my friends moved to the other side of the street, still cheering me on and giving me encouragement. They offered to keep me company partway, but I had to decline, for I was still in the groove, keeping my pace, and I needed to stay focused. I saw a mile marker...2 miles! I had gone two miles!

Another turn down Albany Street. I was ready to see the finish line, where was it? Another turn onto Pacfic, and then again onto Sidney. I don't think the race is going to end. I'm going to keep on going, like a character in a Stephen King novel!

Then, I saw the park. The finish line, it's here! I turned the final corner onto Tudor. There it was. I kicked into high gear. I gave every last bit of energy I had into finishing strong. I had been training to "open up" and the finish line, and now that was paying off.

Done! The clock said 54:23, but when I stopped the RunKeeper clock, it said 53:45. Sweetie came up to hug me, but I couldn't breathe, and I needed to walk, to cool down. After I gained my breath back, I came back to Sweetie, who hugged me. "You did it!" he whispered into my ear. I started to cry in relief and joy. I walked back to my family and friends, and I scooped my daughter into my arms and hugged her tight.

After six months, I can say that I really went from the Couch to a 5K. There are more on the horizon, I'm sure, but for now I'm celebrating this one.

A fat girl ran a race. She placed 675th out of 684 runners. I say it's a win.




Epilogue: on the way out of Cambridge, Sweetie spotted the bracelets and emblem on the road. He pulled over twice and picked them up, so I'm not a WonderLitterBug.

The Home Stretch

"You can say I'm not a runner, and you can tell me I'm not running a "real race." Say you can't make the time to come see me race...I'm making it all fuel for when I'm pounding the pavement, so keep it coming, haters!"

This was my Facebook status last Friday morning. I got 22 responses to that post, probably the most I've received since announcing my daughter's birth a year ago.

Even though I didn't write that post as a way to shop for compliments and encouragement, that's what I got a TON of. I am amazed, in awe, and am so touched by all of you who sent me support and love. Thank you.

And to all of you who said you're running now because of my posts. Again, thank you. I think of you all running along side me on those dark, chilly mornings, so thanks for keeping me company.

Six days. That's all that's between me and my first 5K (SuperHero 5K). I'll be working on my costume this week, adding music to my iPod, and envisioning the finish line, surrounded by my supporters.

Chasing Ghosts

I don't remember when the teasing started. It became such a part of my childhood that it was part of the routine.

The main reason for teasing is because you're perceived to be different than everyone else. Unfortunately in my case, it was perpetuated by the adults. My second grade teacher in Central Oregon pointed out to everyone my Boston r-less accent. My third grade gym teacher was relentless on pointing out I wasn't as physically adept as my classmates. Of course the other kids picked up on this, and reinforced what the teachers knew: I was different, and did not fit in. When my parents would intervene and try to get the administration to take a stand, they were hesitant to do so, citing it was part of the process of growing up, "kids will be kids," and even suggesting it was I needed to do more to fit in.

The teasing and bullying intensified through the years. Name-calling led to nasty notes, which led to spitball throwing, which led to gum in my hair, which led to hair-pulling, kicking, and other violence.

Whenever I fought back, it seemed I was punished for my actions. In-house suspensions, detentions, and at one point told I needed psychiatric evaluation. The bullies kept bullying, and any time they were pulled into a principal or guidance counselor's office to be reprimanded, their parents were right there, explaining it was part of growing up, "kids will be kids." Right before I was pulled out of public schools, I had a girl threatening to kill me, slit my throat with a knife if I showed up at the bus stop - the one on school grounds, not the one near the house. The teacher's response who I went to about the threats? "I'm here to teach, not to babysit."

Moving to the MetroWest of Massachusetts my freshman year, I got pegged a "narc," and again had death threats against me in the lunchroom. My salvation came in the form of upper class girls who invited me to their lunch table and watched over me.

From there? It Got Better. I got involved in Band, Drama, and other clubs. I still got teased, but not as savagely as my earlier years. Then I went on to college, and It Got Even Better from there. I slowly got more confidence in myself as a person and my personality.

Today? I'm still figuring it out. I find myself wondering during my runs when(not if) a car window will roll down and make fun of the fat girl running. I've had images of getting laughed at on Race Day, or if pics of me running will end up on someone's Facebook post to get mocked. I still have issues sitting by myself in crowded places, worried that the fat girl with glasses sticks out like a sore thumb.

But these moments are not as frequent or common as they used to be. I have way more "I'm pretty freaking fabulous" moments than the other negative ones. I need to, for my daughter's sake.

I am so thankful for the next generation of teachers that don't handle bullying the way it used to be handled. I am thankful that I live in an area and within a community that is so diverse, that my daughter hopefully won't experience the intolerance and teasing I and so many others before me did.

However...kids will be kids. They will always notice things that are different. And here's where all of us grownups need to step in. TEACH your kids that yes, some kids and people are different, and that's okay, and that it's NOT okay to make them feel like there's something wrong with them because they're different.

Teachers, Educators, People involved with kids? WATCH. LISTEN. Many times I couldn't go to a teacher because I was told I was being watched, and I was threatened within an inch of my life if I went to an authority. Look for the kid sitting by themselves at lunch or at recess. The quiet kid. Check in with them, make sure they're okay. So many times I've heard that no one knew until it was too late that something was wrong with a bullied child because they were the good, quiet kid. They may be holding it all in for fear of their life.

If your kid is the different one? LOVE THEM. Tell them how fabulous they are, EVERY. DAY. Even if they are driving you crazy, tell them they're wonderful. They need to hear it. I don't know where I would be if I didn't have the amazing support of my parents through all of it.

If you're a kid reading this, and are going through some of the stuff I did? It gets better. REALLY. I went from the kid that had no friends, was terrified of going to school, to ...a grownup with friends, a family, a kid of her own. I'm not going to lie and say that after high school it's all unicorns and rainbows, but the world waiting for you on the other side is SO MUCH BETTER. I promise.

Woo-hoo!

See that?

Three.

THREE MILES.

Wait, make that OVER THREE MILES!!!

No, no , no...make that OVER THREE MILES IN LESS THAN AN HOUR!!!

It was challenging run. It was dark, so seeing the path was difficult. I felt myself slowing down at parts. As I hit the turnaround, I felt a second wind. And I kept running.

Whenever that inner critic would suggest walking partway, I tuned into the music and kept running.

The next thing I knew, I was at the finish line. I did it! Three miles!

Even Chubby Runners Get the Blues

It's easy to stop blogging when you don't want to talk about the not-so-rock-star training days.

First, the Black Plague came to our household. The little one got it first, followed by myself and then my husband. Sleepless nights and gastrointestinal apocalypses led to some lack of disipline in the training department:

Not bad, but only two running sessions and no trips to the gym. Then, I was able to hit another milestone for distance this past Tuesday:



Then, the weather, more sickness...led to another gym session and running session skipped. I was determined to get out there yesterday morning for another 2.75 mile run. As I geared up, I heard the wind HOWLING against the windows. Husband came back from his run, said the wind wasn't that bad for him. I head out.



To quote Pooh and say it was a "blustery" day, puts it mildly. The wind whipped at and around me. The storm from the night before scattered acorns, twigs, and BRANCHES across my running path. It was hard to keep a pace and look out for obstacles at the same time.

Finally, somewhere a 1/2 mile into it, my inner critic convinced the rest of my body - including my heart - to just give in. So I walked the route. I kept trying to push myself and start running, and the wind would pick my hat up off my head, or my shins started to bark. Until I stopped trying, and walked home, defeated.

However, as I walked home, I did try and reason with myself and not beat myself up. It was a looooong walk home. It made me realize and appreciate what I do run in the mornings. It didn't feel this long when I'm jogging it!

When I got home, I didn't even want to talk about it with my husband. Until he cajoled it out of me, where I cried and told him I was definitely NOT a rock star today.

"Honey, some days you're Freddie Mercury. And some days, well, you just have to settle for being Courtney Love."

And he's right. I have to remember that if every run was fantastic, wonderful, "Chariots of Fire" level amazingness? It would get boring. And I would get bored, and I'd stop.

Now? Now I want to get back out there. I've got three miles to tackle on Tuesday, and it's going to be a "We Will Rock You" run, not a "Bruise Violet" run.

Milestones

This is the farthest I've run. Ever.

In the application I use to keep track of my running (Runkeeper), it shows I've run 71 miles. That doesn't seem like a lot, does it?

And yet. This is the most I've ever run. Runkeeper also told me that this week I ran the furthest distance (2.31 miles), which also added up to the most I've run in a week (6 miles).

As I mentioned last week, I'm all about the rewards. I need to start thinking about what to do when I hit 100 miles.

Motivation

There's a difference between what motivates you to get your ass off the couch, and what keeps you motivated to get your ass off the couch again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.

My original motivation to exercise was spite. I went to a new doctor, and within the first 10 minutes of meeting me told me I needed Weight Loss Surgery; no ifs, ands, or buts. I was told diet and exercise wouldn't work for me, I was beyond that help. After bawling my eyes out, I got over the pity party and got angry. I lost 50 pounds that year.

I got back on the exercise and portion control track six months after having my daughter. I wanted to get back down to where I was before I had her, and then some. I got back to running, because I hadn't finished Couch-to-5K last time.

Now, as I am training for my first 5K, I have different motivation I rotate through as I run:
-proving that doctor wrong
-getting rid of the ghosts of PE teachers past
-looking at pictures of myself and not cringing
-thinking about all that shopping for new clothes
-competing with my husband
-seeing my daughter at the finish line

A lot of it is superficial and selfish; I'm okay with that. Motiviation doesn't always have to be inspiring, heart-wrenching. I am all about the rewards.

Couch to 4800k

I'm spending this week in Oregon, celebrating my Mom's 60th birthday. My route was flatter than my usual run, and so much more scenic. There were spots I didn't have the luxury of sidewalks, so I ran on the road.

Here, they don't have a shoulder on the road; they have irrigation ditches. I was pretty cautious in certain areas. The sidewalks I did run on have spoiled me when I have to return to VFW Parkway. They were flat, and smooth. No tree roots pushing them up. No acorn husks left by hungry squirrels (because they were all in my parents' backyard eating the peanuts my mother was feeding them).

At one part of my run, a plane was coming in and landing alongside me (the runway is that long dark gray part on the right of the picture). I am going to admit here: I totally felt like Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Without the motorcycle...or leather jacket...or sunglasses. But I digress.

This was supposed to be a 2.25 mile run, and I had plotted it out ahead of time. So much for technology (thanks MapMyRun!) I managed to keep a 3.5mph pace, no walking. I'll revisit doing 2.25 on Saturday, my last day before I head back home.

2 miles - Shaving Seconds

I wasn't sure how this run would go. I had run 1.5 miles on Thursday, so I was worried going back to 2.0 miles would be a bit of a stretch. I talked to A on Friday, and she suggested to go slow on the mile out, so I'd be able to make it on the mile back.

I headed out, and made sure not to "push." I kept my playlist on good, even, pace-making songs; "Born to Run," "Livin' on a Prayer," "Princes of the Universe." I'm getting to the point where I can actually feel that I have a pace, rather than "ohgoddon'tletmedieouthere, ohgoddon'tletmedieouthere..."

This run I shaved 20 seconds off my pace. The mile out that I was doing a pace? Was faster than I've done, even on Thursday's shorter run. The training plan so far seems to be working. I'm feeling confident that I'll be finishing the 5K under an hour.

Small(er) Cargo

I went to buy cargo pants the other night because my mother stole my last pair (by "stole," I mean I gave them to her and she took them back to OR), which I loved. I grabbed the few pairs of pants in my size (which are few and far between in a chain store that moved it's plus-size online), and hit the dressing room.

Huh, I thought, These pants are...too big? I went back out, grabbed a few more a size down, and well, look at that, these fit. It's the first pair of pants that the size doesn't start with a two I've bought in a very long time.

Instead of celebrating, or considering this a mark of my efforts, I started making up reasons why they didn't fit: they're a different cut of pants; they must be faking their sizes (I read that in an article the week before); it's only that store I'd fit into that size...

I battle with this little voice after every run. Today was a shorter run to increase speed, 1.5 miles. My guess while out on the run of where the turnaround was off a bit. So of course it wasn't a good run, I missed .04 part of it! I wouldn't have picked up my pace so much if I had just finished exactly .04...

This voice used to keep me from even lacing up the sneakers, or picking up that smaller size off the rack. As I'm getting older, I'm ignoring it more. I can tell the difference between my instinct (That dog foaming at the mouth? Not friendly!) and the inner critic (you're not going to finish a 5k, who are you fooling?). So I carry it around in my head, let it say it's thing, and walk up to the register to buy the cargo pants.

2 miles

Started this run filled with piss and vinegar. Realized a few minutes into it that maybe I was going too hard, but I felt okay so I kept going.

And then I hit the first mile, and as I rounded back, my legs went "hey, we are so DONE!" and my shins said "hear, hear!" Walking happened. I'd start jogging again, and my shins would bark in protest. More walking happened. I got to the last tenth mile of the run, I said "the heck with you shins, I need to finish strong," and killed myself to my finish spot.

I was sure my time would be craptastic, but then I saw my pace was still pretty good when I stopped RunKeeper. When I checked the stats on RunKeeper, I can see why after the first mile I was getting exhausted: I had really increased my pace, almost up a full minute on the first mile. Hopefully a trend on the rise!

Training for 5K: Week Two

Right. That running thing I've been doing.

I "graduated" Couch-to-5K on August 6th. I finished the timed training program, and I was able to run for 30 minutes without puking or passing out. I was running 1.65 miles in that time, a pace of 18:13.


Fast forward six weeks. I started my own program of adding more distance every week. My furthest distance has been 2.26 miles. My pace is usually at 17:50. I've also signed up for a 5K on Halloween day.

I also started a training plan I found on about.com. When I counted back from race day, it brought me to Week Two last week, which was a 1.75 mile run on Tuesday and Saturday, and a 1.5 mile on Thursday with a Cross-Training session on Wednesday, and an Active Recovery on Sunday.

I got two runs in, NO Cross-Training, NO active recovery.

I'll admit: I was burnt. I had been working out 5 days in a week the past couple of weeks. I was finding reasons not to get up and go, even when I knew that I'd feel cranky later in the day. I just wasn't motiviated. In Lift Like a Man, Look Like a Goddess, the author says this is okay, and giving your mind a rest as well as your body from time to time? Totally okay.

So I gave myself a light week for working out. And I wasn't hard on myself for it.

This week I'm on to climbing back up to 2 miles. I'm hoping to shave some time off as well. My goal for this first 5K is to come in under an hour. I know most people do them in 30 mimutes or so, but I'm being realistic. I'm a fat girl, learning to run. It's not going to be a 10 minute mile overnight. It will be a challenge, mile by mile, minute by minute.

Couch to 5K, Week Three: Noticing Improvement

note: I think I need an pic/icon of Wonder Woman Running. OR, my dream icon would be the commercial trailer when Wonder Girl runs w/ Wonder Woman, and you see the two sets of red boots running in the street...that's one of my first Wonder Woman memories...

I started Week 3 in the middle of May. Week 3 consists of (after 5-min warm-up) jogging for 90 seconds, walk 90 seconds; jog three minutes, walk three minutes; repeat twice. I should have posted this closer to the runs, as I don't recall my exact feelings. I do remember coming in from one of the first of these intervals, and being shaky and out of sorts. Sweeetie came over, brught me water, took electronics away from me and helped to the floor to stretch. As I got my sorts back, he said "well, no wonder; your pace went up by almost a mile." In week 2, my fastest pace was 3.5 mph. Now, I was hitting 4-4.5 in some spots. Well, that is an improvement!

I repeated Week 3 twice, and one more day for good measure. It took me awhile to get comfortable running the three minutes straight. Quite a few times I did get into a "zone," and I felt like a "runner!"

Couch to 5K, Week Two: Bringing in the Tech

I moved on to Week 2 last Wednesday. The week's program is a
five-minute warm up, then intervals of a 90-second jog and a 2 minute
brisk walk. I am definitely progressing, because I'm ending further
than Week 1.

I have been using the podcasts from Go
Nicole Yourself!, which I like a lot more than Ullrey's podcasts.
The music changes for the different intervals, and there's a
five-second countdown to the change. The best part, however, is at
the end. A voice announces "aaaaand you're done!" and then a little
audience goes "yaaaaaay!" I live for those yays.

Saturday was Week 2, Day 2. Just as I finished my first interval, it
started to rain. Instead of turning around, I thought to myself, "I
can run through this." Near the end of my run, the heavens opened up.
I had two intervals left. I was DETERMINED to finish it. The rain
got so hard, my glasses were covered in water, and started to fog up.
I had to run the last legs basically blind. Thank GODS they had just
finished repaving our roads so I had a flat surface to run on. All
this time I'm thinking..."am I really running in the rain?" I
think I've finally gone hardcore on this program.

Saturday was also the day I tried out an app I heard about from a
coworker: RunKeeper
utilizes the GPS in your iPhone, and will map your course, keep your
time, and average your pace. The rain and clouds prevented RunKeeper
from working correctly on Saturday. I tried again Monday morning. It
mapped, but not correctly. It went off into the woods, into
backyards...my coworker suggested shutting off the 3GS, and and turn
off the automatically set time optime (put here more for my own
benefit on Wednesday).

If you end up on RunKeeper, I'm "runningkumquat" there. I was
hesitant to show my routes in fear of being judged on my slow pace and
amount I'm running...but fuck it. I'm a fat chick running...so of
COURSE I'm slow!

So that's where I'm at. I'm thinking about going to week 3, day 1
tomorrow. That would mean I stayed on Week 2 only one week, but I
found myself wanting to keep running on Monday morning. So, why not?

Couch to 5K, Week One: Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Three years ago, I started the href="http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml">Couch to 5k
Running Program. There's been stops, and starts, ...and a baby,
and now, a start.

I started again about a month ago, on a treadmill. I was miserable.
I kept catching the belt with my feet, that I wasn't picking up my
feet. I felt like the pace on the treadmill was slower than most
people were walking.

So I started looking at the strides of the runners on the treadmills.
Thankfully I didn't get kicked out of the Y for being a stalker, but I
got some idea of what I should be doing.

And then...I just got out and ran.

I stopped worrying about my form, my stride, my breathing. I ran like
I was a kid again, for 60 seconds, and then walked it off for 90
seconds.

Until the shin splints kicked in. ow, ow, ow, OW. I wanted to keep
running, but my shins just wouldn't let me. I mean, really, I
couldn't.

After a trip to Marathon Sports, I laced up my new sneakers last week,
and started Week One. Again. I also had a new podcast in my iPod.

And then...I just got out and ran.

My pace was improved! I went from a 19/20 minute mile, to a...14.7/15
minute mile run/walking.

I'll do Week One the rest of this week, and move on to Week Two. I
would REALLY like to finish C25K this time around.