Let's Talk About the Weather

The snow is falling. Again. It will be followed by a coating of a quarter-inch of ice. Again. And the temperature on a good day this week will hit a high of 25 degrees.

I'm not sure that this winter could be any crueler.

The other day I delighted in an afternoon that brought just enough sun that I could run in only one pair of tights, instead of two. I shed my usual third top layer and traded in my fleece hat for a head band to keep my ears covered. There was nothing frozen falling from the sky. It was liberating. It was also short-lived.

I don't mean to whine or complain--there is nothing anybody can do about the weather and nobody is forcing me to train for the Boston Marathon--but I think my core body temperature has been hovering somewhere around "really cold" since early November. 

The view from my window

I was thinking about all of this the other day during an easy run. I planned a nice little out-and-back jaunt on a course I use on days I don't feel like dealing with a lot of hills. As I plodded along, trying to share a road narrowed by ice and snow accumulation with a plethora of school buses, I started convincing myself that I was getting acclimated to the difficulty of it all: the constant shivering, the loss of motivation, the ability to cut myself some slack when conditions are unsafe to get out there. Oh, and the addition of shoveling as cross-training.

"I'm getting tough," I thought. Well, I've always been on the tough side. Tougher, perhaps?

After a few miles, it was time to turn around. So I did. And it hit me like a slap in the face: a headwind that just ripped right through all those layers like I hadn't taken the additional 30 minutes out of my morning to put them all on.   

My tougher self trudged on, realizing that the remaining miles would be anything but easy. While I've developed a "suck-it-up-and-deal" training (and life) philosophy, it didn't stop me from noticing that I hadn't even felt the tailwind for the first half of the run. No doubt it was there, easing my effort. 

So, I made a silent promise to myself to take note and savor those times in my life when the wind is at my back, helping me along, allowing me time to gather strength. It's when things seem well that I can let my gratitude wane, perhaps taking the good times a little too much for granted.

Because, let's face it: These days you just never know when you're going to turn around and be forced to fight a nasty headwind.

Let's Talk About the Weather

Wishes, Predictions, and Resolutions

There have been few New Years in recent history that I haven't at least partially rung in with my BFF Aimee. Aimee has a magnificent way of creating and perpetuating traditions like no other, which only fractionally explains why she has approximately 10 bazillion friends and is one of the best moms in the world, too.

One such ritual Aimee has upheld for herself and the lucky few who find themselves snuggled up on her couch watching football on any given New Year's Day, is to take a few minutes to write down one wish, one prediction, and one resolution for the year ahead. She hands out envelopes, and after you seal up your thoughts, she files them away until the following year. No sharing required--just a little letter to yourself. Inevitably I always forget about it, but then that plain white, self-addressed envelope, with the words "Do not open until December 31st" written on the back mysteriously appears like clockwork amid the rush of holiday greetings. 

I confess, I couldn't wait until December 31st this year to rip mine open. I could hardly contain my curiosity about where my mind was at this time last year. I knew I was not feeling much like my sunny disposition self--all sorts of things had just gotten way out of hand in 2007 and I was ready to make some drastic changes, though even without opening the envelope, I was 100 percent sure I hadn't predicted that I'd take up residence in Nowhere, PA, no matter how out of whack life had become.

My prediction? That I'd register for Ironman Lake Placid. The reality? I focused solely on running all year and couldn't be happier with the way that decision panned out. My wish? Well, honestly, who doesn't wish for happiness and health for yourself, friends, and family? The funny thing about wishes is that I can keep wishing them over and over again with the same amount of hope that they'll come true. My resolution? To dial down my OCD tendencies in just about every aspect of life--work, volunteering, training--and to spend more time with my friends and family. Mission accomplished. Except in training...I've made peace with the fact that I'll always be kind of compulsive about that.

I suppose it is fitting then that on this December 31st, I ended the year with a 5K run in Bethlehem, PA, with my good friends Michelle and Suzanne. I had a grand total of 8 miles on tap for the day and thought it would be fun to throw the 5K race in the middle of it. We braved the 10-degree temperatures, 30-MPH wind gusts, and swirling snow squalls and were each rewarded with our own box of Peeps for registering (yes, those marshmallow chicks coated in yellow sugar, commonly found in grocery stores around Easter time--bet you didn't know those are made in Bethlehem!). When I got back from tacking on two miles after the race, we discovered that somehow I managed to win my age group, and hence I was given a medal from a human-sized Peep. I could only surmise that most women aged 30 to 39 have the brain cells that I lack, and alas had good sense to stay home that day.

Later, we met up with with Aimee and her family in an absolutely frigid downtown Bethlehem to see the insanity that is the Peep being dropped at midnight. We didn't stick around until midnight, but we did see the plastic Peep suspended from a crane near City Hall. We were underwhelmed. It was plastic, about 25 lbs., and best described as a glorified rubber ducky. We retreated to a local bar within 30 minutes.

In the midst of such hype, we didn't have the time--or maybe it was a lack of inclination--this year to record our wishes, predictions, or resolutions for 2009. Perhaps we all just needed a break from forecasting what our lives might be, in favor of simply leading the lives we have as well as we can for each of the next 365 days ahead. 

Truth be told, I feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland this year anyway--the part where she reaches a fork in the road and asks the Cheshire Cat which way she should go.

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," the cat says.

"I don't much care where," Alice responds.

"Then," the Cheshire Cat says, "it doesn't matter which way you go."

"As long as I get somewhere, " Alice adds.

"Oh, you're sure to do that," the cat says, "if you only walk long enough."

Happy, healthy new year to you--may it be just what you've imagined and a little bit of what you never could have.

Wishes, Predictions, and Resolutions

Problems or Opportunities?

From the age of about 8 through 18, my summer always kicked off the same way. My swim teammates and I piled into our parents' station wagons and left for two weeks of swim camp at Mercersburg Academy. The next 14 days were spent mostly in the pool, or thinking about the next swim practice that day, or attending dry-land strength training sessions, or hearing coaches critique our technique from daily video tape sessions, or staying up as late as we could keep our eyes open talking about the cute boys in our lane, or eating (and eating and eating and eating some more).

In retrospect, the schedule seems grueling. I couldn't even guess how much yardage we logged in a week, but in reality, most of us couldn't get enough. The camp was founded and directed by John Trembley, the head swim coach at the University of Tennessee and one of the most generous, kind, positive (he named his dog Happy, for crying out loud), amazing coaches I've ever encountered. No matter what a camper's ability level--and trust me when I say I was never swimming in the fastest lane--JT seemed to give everybody the same time and attention, and evoke a plethora of laughter in the process.

It was rare that JT ever got angry, but that's not to say that we didn't fully realize that he meant business. After all, he has coached many Olympians, some of whom would randomly meander onto the pool deck in the middle of practice or drop by the dining hall for lunch.

There weren't many rules at camp besides the obvious, like boys and girls stay in their respective dorms, etc. However, of those rules that were strictly enforced were the following:

1. Every morning, when loudly and obnoxiously awoken by a coach pounding on your door at some ridiculously early hour, everybody began the day by saying (or muttering, which is usually all we could muster): "It's a beautiful day and it's great to be alive!"

2. Abide by the philosophy that there are no problems, only opportunities. As soon as camp began, nobody was allowed to utter the word "problem" without buying a lot of very public grief from JT and some extra sets at practice for yourself and your lane mates.

At the time, we didn't appreciate it. When a weird bug flew in my ear on the way to an afternoon practice and was buzzing around in there, I couldn't help but think, "This is a problem." So I went to one of the coaches and started by saying, "I have a prob...." before I was abruptly cut off. At that point it felt like a bat was flying around in my head and I was convinced that my circumstance couldn't possibly have an upside. But I did my best to rally.

"There is a bug flying around in my ear," I said flatly, careful not to revert to the "p" word.

Off I went to the infirmary, escorted there by the cutest coach in the bunch. And so at the awkward age of 14, I began a lifetime of finding opportunities in life's challenges.

It's not terribly easy to find those opportunities. Lord knows that there are plenty of things to be worried about these days. This struck me recently, because a lot of my friends are dealing with legitimate life issues right now: unemployment, seriously ill children, personal health matters. Lately it seems like so many e-mails or phone calls come with bad news. What is the opportunity in having a helpless child face the possibility of a heart transplant? That, I don't know, but it is because of JT that I spend a lot of time trying to figure it out myself.

So, as the holiday season is in full swing and a new year is about to begin, I pass on the gift that JT gave to me so many years ago. Even the most cynical among us can benefit, if you give it your best shot--believe me, I know. Do yourself a favor and honestly find the opportunities in your problems--see what happens when you eliminate the word entirely from your vocabulary. And don't forget that each morning that you open your eyes, it's a beautiful day and it's great to be alive.

Problems or Opportunities?

Dumb Luck

A couple of days before I left for the Philadelphia Marathon, my mom sent me a card. The outside of it was a black-and-white photo of a little girl, climbing up a rock, with a wide smile as she teetered to gain her balance at the top. It said, “We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust our sails.”

How apropos, in so many ways. With blustery cold weather clinging to the East Coast, I knew I was facing a frigid marathon experience. I also knew that if I’ve learned nothing else during the last six months, I have finely tuned my ability to adjust my sails.

So, I did it. I qualified for the Boston Marathon on Sunday by finishing the Philadelphia Marathon in 3:30:45. That was 10 minutes faster than the qualifying time and 11 minutes faster than my previous best marathon time.

It was perhaps the best race weekend of my life. Much like the 29 weeks of training that led me there, it was as near-perfect as a marathon experience can be. Was it luck? I have to believe it was more than that. I have to believe that when you work so hard for so long with a laser-like focus on your dreams, surround yourself with family and friends who care and genuinely support you, and have 100 percent trust in the person who is patiently, intelligently, and positively guiding you toward your goals, that the “luck” is really just the result of all the ingredients you’ve carefully, painstakingly mixed together.

Some might say that it was “lucky” that I never was sick or injured throughout my training, which began in mid-May. I see it a different way. I don’t think it was “luck” that changed my eating habits for the better or taught me how to listen to my body, so that I didn’t push through the little twinges and sniffles that could’ve blown up into full-fledged health problems. I don’t think it’s chance that I learned how to deal with real pain during track workouts, or taught my legs exactly what marathon pace feels like week after week on long runs that were continually besieged by horrible weather conditions. It wasn’t good fortune that led me to go to bed early or plan ahead to fit in a 60+-mile training week with my work and travel schedule, all while still being a good friend, daughter, and journalist. It wasn't a fluke that I maintained a positive attitude, even when a workout didn't go according to plan or my legs felt heavy and sluggish. 

So you’ll forgive me when I confess that as I approached the starting area in the pre-dawn hours of Sunday, I felt a lump in my throat. Quite frankly, it shocked me. I have, after all, run eight marathons now and have never been emotional about any of them. But as soon as I saw some volunteers hoisting the finish line onto the scaffolding as I approached the Art Museum, my eyes welled up. I knew that the next time I saw it, it wouldn’t be just a finish line – it would mark a new beginning in my running life.

The previous 24 hours were the most relaxed I’ve ever had before a race. I spent more time laughing with my friends about ridiculous things than I did thinking about the 26.2 miles ahead of me. Michelle and Suzanne took such good care of me, from driving to Philly to braving the freezing temperatures on race morning to scream at me, I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without them. Our dinner on Saturday night with KC and Josh was not only delicious, but it was low key and fun, which was just what I needed. My final chat with Mike left me feeling inspired and upbeat, as well as calm and confident. And that Penn State win over Michigan State? Despite the Arctic temperatures, that clearly left me California dreamin’ :).

The race itself may be anticlimactic as far as good stories go. It went almost exactly as I had planned. I dressed in layers, which I shed as my body warmed up. I did exactly what I had practiced over and over and over again in training: starting out at 8 minute per mile pace and never going faster than 7:45. The only hitches thrown into the equation were icy water stops that doubled as ice-skating rinks, mile markers that were completely off in the first 6 miles or so, and a severe aversion to taking my second gel later in the marathon. Yes, I ran my best time fueled by nothing more than one gel at mile 9 and water every 3 to 5 miles. I knew I’d pay the price for that, and I did. But I didn’t feel the pain and fatigue in earnest until about mile 24, when I knew it was just a matter of gutting it out, which I had much experience doing over the past six months.

The second half of the marathon was by far my favorite. I had such amazing support—I felt as though I was just being handed off from friend to friend all the way through to the finish line, starting with Suzanne and Michelle at the halfway point, Megan at 14, Sarah at mile 19, KC at mile 20, Josh at mile 24, catching Nathan at mile 25, and crossing the finish line with him. And while I could feel the hurt you’d expect after mile 21, I can’t say I ever experienced anything unbearable, like last year. I was happy to see the finish line and knew that I didn’t have much left in me, but in retrospect it was by far the strongest I’ve ever felt throughout an entire marathon. There’s more in the tank to explore, and that’s the exciting lesson this race taught me.

So while I have no idea how life will unfold otherwise between now and April, I do know that it will include another marathon training cycle—this time, for the Boston Marathon. I go into that knowing that I’m capable of more than I ever realized and that if I do it right, there won't be any surprises on race day. After all, when you know how to work hard and adjust your sails, luck is always on your side.

Dumb Luck

When the Work is Done

It's a strange feeling when you reach the point in a long journey that there's nothing left to do. After weeks or months or even years of focus, there always comes that juncture in whatever endeavor you've embarked upon when it's time to trust in the work you've done, have faith, and leave the rest up to fate.

The final seven days before a marathon always bring myriad emotions and it usually leaves a little too much time to think. All those hours that are usually filled with running, stretching, core work, ice baths, cross training, eating, sleeping, ingesting fluids, grocery shopping, doing yet another load of laundry, and preparing to start the entire cycle all over again are replaced by hours of thinking about if you did all those things the right way, and if they will finally put you within reach of the goals that have remained elusive for what seems like an eternity. 

My head seems to be quiet this time around, though. I'm oddly at peace with the fact that there's nothing left to do. I am sentimental and nostalgic for the road that led me here--certainly my life was in a different place when I took that first step, 27 weeks ago. And every mile in between has been one enormous learning experience. But that's why I love running--it never fails to teach you a thing or two about yourself and the people around you. And clearly I'll never forget this time that I somehow found myself living in the Pocono Mountains, far from the city life I am accustomed to, attacking the hills on the endless country roads with only a pasture full of cows to keep me company along the way. 

The work is done, so now it's time to trust, have faith, rest, and rejuvenate. Here's hoping for a happy Philadelphia Marathon finish line that leads to a brand-new starting line...and the next big adventure.

When the Work is Done

Better Days Ahead

"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.  

It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled - Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It's the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day."

-- President-elect Barack Obama

Better Days Ahead

Has Anybody Seen Fall Weather and My Pace?

Once upon a time, in a strange little hamlet in Northeastern Pennsylvania...

I wake up this morning, look out the window after hearing the rain pounding on the house all night long, and see that it's snowing. I truly believe that I'm still asleep, because, you know, it's October and it doesn't snow in October. I rub my eyes, look out the window again, and realize it is indeed snowing. And sleeting. And pouring rain.

I turn on the TV, at the exact moment the local weather guy is saying (a wee bit too enthusiastically), "There are wind gusts of up to 50 MPH out there, knocking down trees and power lines."

"Awesome," I think, as I'm digging around in the abyss of my running clothes, trying to find anything remotely warm. Waterproof would be a bonus, but alas, I don't own anything that fancy.

It is my peak week of marathon training. Skipping today's speed workout isn't an option.So I head out and get some very odd looks from the locals, who are peering out their windows from their kitchen tables...warm, dry, and sipping hot coffee. I am insanely jealous.

After warming up and doing some strides, I begin to turn into a human popsicle. So I figure I need to just get it over with. I am fantasizing about dry clothes as the wind is making the icy precipitation fall horizontally, as well as making me feel as though I'm running in place. I can no longer feel my feet, legs, arms, or face. I'm pretty sure my ears and nose fell off during the second and third strides. So I just take off.

The purpose of this workout is to hit two miles at 7:45 pace, then switch gears to a 7:00 for the third mile. After a four-minute recovery, repeat it, then warm down. Success of the workout is defined as sticking to the paces -- going faster is not better.

Mile 1 -- 7:15 (oops. conscious effort to slow down....)
Mile 2 -- 7:29 (better but still not great, so I think for a second about not picking it up for the 3rd mile in favor of trying to find the elusive 7:45, but then I think that I shouldn't, so I try to pick it up as the wind nearly blows me right into a cornfield...)
Mile 3 -- 7:15

4 min. recovery -- uhhhh...shivering...must start running again...freezing...thinking about running slower...

Mile 1 -- 7:21
Mile 2 -- 7:31 (I honestly thought this one would be right at 7:45. I even had to stop for a few seconds to fend off a random dog. I was wrong.)
Mile 3 -- 7:12

I cut the warm down a few minutes short. I figured that because I'm violently shaking at this point, it might behoove me to get out of the elements as quickly as possible.

So, here I am a hours later, wrapped in several layers of fleece ala the little kid in "A Christmas Story" (when he's so bundled up that he can't put his arms down), drinking and eating anything hot. And the only thought that keeps popping into my head is that this is a frightening sneak preview of what training for Boston is going to be like all winter long. Ohmygod. Where is the treadmill fairy? Serious thoughts going on about my next relocation...

And that is the tale of a workout gone awry. Stay tuned to find out if the girl ever finds her pace and lives happily ever after.

Has Anybody Seen Fall Weather and My Pace?