I have officially completed a 10-mile race. Without walking or having to use the bathroom. I never thought I would be able to say that.
Yesterday was a perfect day for a run. It was cold in the morning, but warmed up a little by mid-morning. The sun was shining and the sky was clear and bright. Continue reading
Tomorrow is the day. All the training or lack thereof comes down to this.
I took two long walks today, mostly to get the dog out but also to calm my nerves and stretch my muscles. I came home and I tried to relax on the couch, and I had pasta for dinner. And suddenly, as I stood in my bedroom laying out my race shirt and my leggings and my socks, it hit me. I was taken back to those times in my life years ago. I realized that I am familiar with this feeling. The feeling you get when you’re about to do something hard. When you’re about to stretch your body to its limit, and you’re about to put your heart and soul into something that you never thought you could do. The thoughts, anxiously jumping around in my head, the butterflies in my stomach. I am taken back to nights of pacing and packing, checklists and doublechecking. Writing down my goals and visualizing the beginning, middle and the end. Trying to anticipate victory but wondering if I’m just getting my hopes up for failure.
This feeling is not unlike the feeling I had before a swim meet. Which surprises me, because this whole process has felt nothing like swimming at all. I felt so comfortable swimming, so at home in a pool. It was predictable and safe and easy.
But these past few months of running have been hard. It’s been mentally tough to get myself back in this game of practice, practice, practice. It’s been full of ups and downs as I figured out how to deal with sore knees and flat feet and blisters. I was convinced in the beginning that I would be able to create my own training schedule and stick to it. I figured I’d be able to build up slowly but surely and that by the time this race came around, I’d be a pro.
But every day was a struggle, mentally and physically. After we adopted Sadie, I began walking 2 miles every single morning. That was great, but walking is not the same as running. I knew I needed to run and train, but after waking up early to walk and being at work all day, I came home and felt like I’d already done my workout, and I didn’t want to go out again. Forcing myself to get back outside, to put on my third pair of socks for the day, and to finish up with another shower before falling back into bed was hard.
I didn’t run as much as I wanted to or thought that I would. I ran mostly on the weekends, when I had more time and more daylight. I ran enough to be able to run the next time.
And then it got cold and dark. And that was hard.
I feel like a fairweather runner – literally. I wanted to run during the mid-morning, when it was 67 degrees, sunny but not hot, and definitely not raining. I wanted to have eaten something, but not so much or so recently that my stomach got upset. And I wanted my knees to not hurt and my legs to feel great the whole time. Guess how many times that actually happened. Right.
But there was one night, about a week and a half ago. I got out in the neighborhood after work, before dinner. It was a little cold, getting a little dark. I had planned to run about 3 or 3 1/2 miles and not worry about speed because I knew I’d be tackling the hills in my neighborhood.
And as I crested a fairly steep hill, I saw the pinks and golds in the sky as the sun set over the houses, and it was like a switch flipped. I didn’t have to stop to catch my breath. At that moment and for the rest of that night’s run, I actually felt like a runner. Not a swammer trying to run, but a true runner. I felt strong, my knees were okay, and my heart was pumping. I suddenly felt like my legs could take me up and down those hills and I would be fine.
That night, as I ran, I felt like I was flying.
I came home after 4 miles and I said my run felt easy. And I never in a million years thought I would ever say that about any run.
So tomorrow I am hoping to fly. I am trying to keep that amazing run in my mind and have it carry me through the next 10 miles. I’m going to go through the motions to prepare tonight like I did so many times for hundreds of swim meets.
I’m not going to be nervous, because this can’t be any worse than a 200 meter fly.
Also – remember this?!
Hartwood Acres looking fabulous. This was not a running day. This was a I’m-tired-so-lets-walk-and-take-pictures day.
It has been a month since I signed up for the EQT 10 Miler, so I guess it’s time to give you an update on my training progress.
I meant to write a weekly update, with a detailed report of my workouts and how each mile of my runs felt. Some of you might have been interested in that, maybe. But I didn’t, so I’ll just recap.
After I hit that “register” button I was all like “Let’s do this!” and I laced up my shoes, drove to North Park and tackled 5 miles including the hill behind the boathouse. Nothing crazy – I do that loop all the time, walk/run, usually, depending on whether I’ve just eaten dinner or not.
Then all that week I was like “I got this!” so I pushed myself. I went to the gym and did some spinning and some body weight leg stuff and I ran on the treadmill. And then my knees were like “HA! We tricked you.” So I had to settle down a bit. Continue reading
As you may or may not know, I have been haunting a new neighborhood lately. One more urban, more crowded and certainly more interesting. I’ve come to this neighborhood with plans and hopes and fears and dreams. I have ventured out into this unknown…
Part of my plan for exploring this vastly unfamiliar area is to run. After my first (and last) 5K, I stopped running for a little while. I figured I could celebrate my small and insignificant victory by taking a break. When I tried to start back up again, I was out of shape and my knees were bothering me. I needed to start slowly and that is hard. All I wanted to do was pick up where I’d left off. Continue reading
For some, it was a warm-up. They were stretching their legs, ready for some warmer weather and the beginning of spring. They were preparing for the real races down the road. Just another morning jog.
But for me, it was my greatest achievement. Well, as far as my running attempts go.
I finished my first 5K race on Saturday morning. I said I would do it, and I did.
I was most definitely not planning on running in the March Mad Dash. First of all, it is March. It’s cold and snowy and gray, and I like to run in nice, warmer weather. Second, I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t been working hard enough at the gym and I wasn’t ready.
But my sister came home from school for spring break and it didn’t take too much to convince me. I like running with a buddy, and I will accept any motivation to get out and go. When she first asked me, I instinctively said no. And then I remembered my lifelong dream of running 3.1 miles and caved.
We registered in advance (couldn’t back out now) so when the day of the race came we got there early to pick up packets and get free T-shirts. (You know that’s really the only reason why I agreed to do it.) I was so eager to get there and warm up and get free stuff that I guess we got there a little too early. We ended up standing out in the cold for about 45 minutes. It was supposed to warm up later in the day, but at 8 AM, it was still hats-and-gloves weather.
As we walked from our car through the parking lot, we saw stickers on the backs of other people’s cars. 13.1… 26.2…140.3…I was so out of my element. We didn’t know where to go, or how the 5K course went. We were (are) such amateurs.
They told us to line up behind the starting line, according to how fast we thought we were in comparison to the other 750 people around us. Yeah right. I had no idea if I would be slow or fast compared to anyone. So I stood in the middle of the crowd with my sister, vowing to stay together. As it turns out, some people seriously underestimated their speed and tried to trample everyone in front of them, and some people seriously overestimated their speed and got trampled. More of the latter. And staying together? That didn’t work for very long. Too many people were ducking and weaving and dodging. We got separated, and, even though I maintain that I totally could have kept up, she pulled out ahead.
The whole race was kind of exhilarating. This gun goes off and this big mass of people starts moving, looking like a bouncing sea of bodies all headed in the same direction, slowly sprawling out into a long, snaking line. I played little games in my head–picked people to keep up with and people to pass. I tried to keep my stride longer than the person next to me, or my breathing more even. Just trying to keep it interesting.
Volunteers were standing along the sides offering drinks and encouragement. “Gatorade first, water second!” “Keep it up, you’re doing good!” I felt like a runner. Like someone who runs 5Ks all the time. Until I grabbed a paper cup of water and spilled it all over myself trying to drink and run at the same time.
I felt good until I got about 2.7 miles in. It was at that moment that one of the volunteers cheered, “You’re doing good! Just up the hill!”
“Up the hill?!” I screamed at him.
“You’re doing good,” he said a little more quietly. And I staggered past him.
This was a killer hill. At the end of a 5K. I had not expected a hill and so had run a little harder in the middle of the race than maybe I ought to have. So I basically died. I hadn’t eaten enough breakfast, so my stomach was audibly growling, I still had my gloves on, so I was hot and sweating, and pretty much felt like passing out.
I gave myself a tiny break about 3/4 of the way up the hill and let myself walk for approximately 15-20 seconds. Just long enough to take my gloves off. Then I picked it up and ran a little faster to make up the time.
On the way down the hill, I felt great. I felt like I could keep going, do the whole loop again, maybe do a marathon while I was at it…
My mom was cheering for me as I came into the finish line. My dad was fumbling around with a camera trying to figure out how to take a picture. My sister had beaten me by a few minutes. But I made it.
My official time was 28 minutes and 51 seconds. I came in 41st place overall for the 5K, out of 168 5K runners. I came in 10th in the 20-29 women’s age group (out of 39). Some 11- and 12-year-olds beat me. So did a 58-year-old. But that’s okay.
I successfully completed my first 5K race. On to the next one!
Post-race
My whole life, I have never been a runner. I have skinny flat feet, weak ankles, knobby knees and sore hips. I succeeded as a swimmer because I failed at everything else. I couldn’t kick a soccer ball, or run the bases. I was afraid of the balance beam and lacked the grace to dance on stage. Even a game of tennis contained more running than I could manage. I accepted the fact that I would never be a runner. That was okay. I love to swim.
But today, I ran around my entire neighborhood–without stopping, without walking. Let me tell you one thing–my neighborhood is no joke. The route that I take is about three miles and there are ten hills, varying in difficulty (most of them hard). So my run today was an accomplishment for any non-runner, especially me.
The beginning of my running journey
When I stopped swimming competitively almost two years ago, I knew I had to stay in shape. I wanted to stay active and try new things. I thought, What better place to try new workouts and activities than a college campus? But I found that I didn’t have as much free time as I’d thought. The idea of going to fun workout classes drifted farther and farther from my mind as I got more involved with the student television network and took on a part-time job. I did join UD’s yoga club and went to classes when I could. I went to open swim a few times and to the gym to ride a stationary bike.
But I found that the easiest thing to do was to run. No time limit, no gym or equipment necessary, no experience needed. I downloaded a free app for my phone called CardioTrainer and hit the streets. It was fun to track how far I’d gone, how many steps I took and how many calories I’d burned. I could also compare all of my past workouts. Last summer, I bought new running shoes, convinced that having new shoes would motivate me to run even more.
And yet, running is hard. It’s hard to tell myself to run everyday when I’m tired or sore, but if I miss more than a week I feel like I am starting all over again. I refuse to run in the rain or the cold or the dark. I prefer to run in the morning, but not the early morning. I can’t run after I eat, but I can’t run on an empty stomach. I hate running in the extreme heat of summer. I want the conditions to be perfect, the hills not too steep. In other words, I’m a picky runner.
My running goals
I’m never going to be a Runner, with a capital R. That’s never going to be me, so I’m allowing myself to be picky. I set a few goals for myself to keep me getting out there, and I have a community center membership where I can run on a treadmill when the weather isn’t ideal.
My first goal was to run around my neighborhood. For the past two years, I have tackled the hills of my neighborhood in various ways. I’ve tried running with the dog and without the dog. With my sister or my mom, and by myself. With my iPod, without my iPod. I’ve run the first part and walked the end, or vice versa. I’ve run up the hills and walked down them. I’ve run as far as I could then took a break. No matter how hard I’ve tried, the few roads that circle my house have defeated me every time.
Until today.
Another goal I’ve set more recently is to do a three-mile run once a week. It has usually been on the treadmill, since it’s gotten cold out, and I can easily keep track of the miles and speed. But there are no hills on a treadmill (none that I do) so today was a test. Run the three miles with hills. I didn’t think I would make it the whole way. I usually get about two miles in and slow to a walk. Today, however, I was feeling good. Today was a triumph.
My final goal is to run a 5K. Someday. A real 5K, where I get to register and get a little piece of paper with a three-digit number that I can pin to my shirt and a free T-shirt to show the world that I participated. You know, the whole shebang. And I want to not suck. So my efforts for now are to keep up my three-mile runs and continue running all the hills.
I thought that I hadn’t been getting any better. I couldn’t see any noticeable difference. But today I ran three miles with hills. Not bad for a swimmer. Like I said, today was a triumph.
(photo via)
Of all the inspirational stories that emerge from the coverage of the Olympics, the one that caught my eye a few days ago was that of Oscar Pistorius, of South Africa. He is called the Blade Runner, using prosthetics in place of both of his lower legs and feet. Oscar is quite literally a runner without legs. If that doesn’t inspire someone, what will?
He was born without fibulas and was not even a year old when his legs were amputated. Think about the kind of life he probably had, growing up. It’s hard enough to live in the hard world with all your limbs. And still he had Olympic dreams. He still knew that he could do more, even without his legs. And luckily, we do live in this hard world, because it enabled him to find a way around his “handicap.” Building him some prosthetic legs put him on the path to greatness. If only it could work like that for everyone with the Olympics in their sights.
Pistorius worked hard and has to have tons of natural talent in order to get where he is today. But he also has to be incredibly lucky. Not every double-amputee with or without prosthetic limbs ends up in the Olympics. He is lucky that he has the money to afford his state-of-the-art legs, and to replace them when necessary. He’s lucky that his case was reviewed and ruled in his favor to allow him to compete in this year’s Olympics. It can’t be easy for him. Why don’t you try running with no legs?
Yet there are still bitter critics saying that his artificial legs give him an unfair advantage; they give him spring in his step that other runners don’t have; they reduce his fatigue because there are no muscles there to use up oxygen and make him tired. But if he had such an advantage, wouldn’t there be more amputees running as fast as he is?
It might be easier for people to yell “unfair!” than to admit that their guy will get beat by a runner with no legs. We want everything to be equal and fair, but that’s not how the world is. It’s not even fair for the people who do have their legs. Some of those runners have had better coaching, or are in a geographically more agreeable country or city. Some athletes are better off financially and can concentrate on just running, while others are trying to hold a job and provide for a family. People aren’t going to come from the exact same circumstances, so can’t we call it unfair for everyone? Can we kick everyone out who we think is too old or too young, not allow someone to compete because they had more time to practice than we did?
His artificial blades were proven to not give him any extra spring. They are shock absorbing, like many running shoes claim to be, but they do not add extra power. I’m sure with today’s technology rapidly advancing, that power boost may not be far behind. But of course, the Olympic committee would shoot down a competitor with a power boost in their feet, just as they would someone who takes performance enhancing drugs. There is obviously a line between artificial feet and rockets for legs.
It would not be easy to learn to walk on blades and certainly not easy to run fast enough to qualify in the Olympics. Whatever “advantages” this guy has, it is not his feet. I salute him. I hope he runs the best he can and keeps up with the best of them. I hope he wins medals and proves to everyone that you can achieve dreams even with disadvantages like the loss of your legs. I hope he becomes an inspiration to other amputees in the world, and those who are trying to overcome major challenges in their lives. I do not, however, think that he should be able to compete in the Paralympics after the London Olympics. If he has the chance to prove how great he is now, he shouldn’t need to prove himself again, or against other amputees. He earned the right to compete in the Olympics and he deserves that. But no one else gets two tries. Now that is what is unfair.
As technology continues to improve and we become better able to make limbs for amputees, and give people the chances that they wouldn’t have otherwise had, we’re going to have to keep re-evaluating what is “fair” and who has the “advantage.” It is a continuous process, just as everything else dealing with rising technology is an ongoing process. With everything in a state of constant change, nothing is going to be cut and dry forever.
Oscar Pistorius proves that someone without legs can run in the Olympics. Hopefully this will open doors for others like him and we can continue to be supportive of all athletes who work hard and persevere through all the obstacles they are given.
And if he can run races in the Olympics, without legs, I can surely get off the couch and hit the gym once in awhile. Like I said, truly an inspiration…
image from usatoday.com
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