“A Grateful Heart Can Run Forever”

• 4 • 13.1 Training

gratefulheart

I met with Jake on Tuesday for the last time before the race. His biggest piece of advice? Run with a grateful heart. He said a grateful heart can run forever, and he’s an ultra-marathoner, so he would know.

I believe him, too. My best races happen when I dedicate time at the starting line to remembering how exciting it is to be part of this. When I look around and think about how amazing it is to belong in this group of people. To think about what I share with this group of people. To feel the group surge forward at the start, take my place in the pack, find my rhythm, and take joy in being part of the run.

Jake told me not just to feel it, but to act it. To wish strangers good luck before the race. Thank spectators. High five kids along the course. Thank the volunteers and police officers. He said that will get you further faster than sticking with the middle of the pack with your head down calculating split times all the way to the finish. But even if it didn’t, it certainly sounds like a really amazing way to spend 13.1 miles. Grateful to be there. Sharing enthusiasm with other runners and spectators. Having a joyful race.

When I think about some of the best athletes in the world, there’s no question they feel and express this kind of joy. Meb? Usain Bolt? Are you following these guys? These are happy people, and they interact with fans and media like they’d high five the world if they could.

I’ll never run that fast, but I can appreciate how joy can distract from pain, how gratitude will propel you forward faster than anxiety. There’s a huge mental component to running, and it’s easy to think that you have to be “mentally tough” and “focus” and “conquer the pain” in order to run your best race. But when I try to be mentally tough, focus, and conquer the pain, what am I doing? I’m thinking, every second, about how fast I’m running and how much it hurts. On the other hand, when I think about how happy I am to be part of this, when I talk to someone near me, when I absorb the scenery, when I think about how grateful I am to be a runner… I become distracted from the pain. It matters less than the joy, I am thinking about it less, and my legs still feel like jello, but I’m not afraid they’ll give out from underneath me, I think it’s hilarious that they’re still doing what I tell them. And suddenly I’m smiling and I’m surging forward with the crowd and leaving behind the fear or pain that was holding me back.

The most beautiful way to run may just be the fastest, too.

Garmin Reports: How much do I really train?

• 2 • 13.1 Training

As I gear up for my 6th half marathon, I’m really at the end of my third half marathon training season, and my 3rd opportunity to race the Chilly Half Marathon.

I thought it would be neat to look back at previous years training, and check out the mileage I ran in preparation for each race.

milesrunpriortoChilly

The great news is that I’ve run more miles in the 3 months prior to the Chilly Half Marathon this year, the crazy news is that I run a lot fewer miles to train for any of these half marathons than I thought!

Despite the best of intentions, I often miss training runs. I have two preschoolers (well, now I do – my first year of training the littlest one wasn’t even in school!) and sometimes they’re sick, or they get me sick, or, well, am I really giving you a run-down of training excuses? Really? You deserve better than that.

Point is, I miss runs. More than I thought. My training plans had me running an average of 20-30… I actually ran around 16 miles per week this year, and even fewer miles per week in previous years. Looking at my numbers, I know there are some missed treadmill runs in there, but not enough to make a substantial difference.

Some of those were weeks where I was sick or had overall soreness from adjusting to strength training, so most weeks were either low mileage, or around 20-25. Even my best month, September, when I had two weeks where I ran over 30 miles averaged only 21.5 miles per week.

Evidently you can train to complete a half marathon running fewer than 20 miles a week! Hello efficiency.

That said, I’d love to see my mileage higher next year, because I think the more you prepare, the better your race goes; not just your performance, but the race experience.

Most training plans for half marathons recommend averaging 20-30 miles per week during training, and anyone with a performance goal usually runs substantially more than that.

Looking ahead: I love knowing this. This is a great reality check for me, a great reminder that I’m still lucky to have found time to run the miles I did and make it to the starting line of another half marathon. This means that going forward there’s great potential for improvement, because even with my more serious effort this year, I’m still racking in very low numbers for mileage. Next year is another chance to try again.

One of these years, I’m actually going to train properly for this thing 😉

Improving race day performance with… beets?!

• 3 • 13.1 Training

Race day is around the corner, and like a college kid the night before an exam, I’m desperate for any last minute tricks to give me an edge when it’s go-time.

I’m trying to go to bed earlier. I’ve cut out alcohol. I’m loading up on the leafy greens. Totally planning to do that Wonder-Woman starting pose stance again… that’s an easy 60 seconds for potential gain.

Another thing I’m adding to our diet this week? Beets. A fascinating series of videos by Dr. Greger of nutritionfacts.org highlighted the research showing that beets improve how efficiently our bodies use oxygen, a key element in aerobic exercise like running.

Here’s what Dr. Greger says about one of the recent studies on beets and athletic performance:

“Whole beetroot consumption acutely improves running performance. They gave physically fit men and women a cup and a half of baked beets, which is equal to about a can of beets, 75 minutes before running a 5k. They started out the same, but during the last mile of the 5k race, the beet group pulled ahead compared to the placebo group, who were given berries instead. Though they were running faster, their heart rate wasn’t any higher. If anything, the beet group reported less exertion.”

–http://nutritionfacts.org/video/whole-beets-vs-juice-for-improving-athletic-performance/

Better performance when fatigued?! Pulled ahead in the last mile? Hello, beets, you are worth a try in my mind. I don’t even care if it’s placebo effect pulling me up at mile 12 because the beet smoothie wore off at mile 6, I love knowing I’m using a research-backed strategy to give my muscles the best help they can get.

Here’s one of the first beet juice videos from Dr. Greger:

I’m planning to have a strawberry beet smoothie about 2 hours before the half marathon start time, using my favorite recipe from Oh She Glows: http://ohsheglows.com/2013/09/03/introducing-vegan-glow-pink-power-detox-smoothie-recipe/

Happy running! It’s not cheating… it’s nutrition 😉

Gratitude vs. Determination; Finding the Right Mindset for Running

• 2 • 13.1 Training, Motivation
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Chooie by Richard Walker / CC 2.0

I see my running coach Jake on Tuesdays, and before we do any strength training, we sit and talk about running. How my week went, how I’m feeling physically, how I’m feeling emotionally.

At one point yesterday, he told me that the fastest races he has ever run were ones where he ran with gratitude in his heart, and a feeling that running was fun. 

When a determined mindset made me run faster: I remember the first 5k I ran in under 30 minutes; I psyched myself up, I tried to trick myself into believing I could do it, I set out at the starting line with grim determination planning to conquer any pain necessary to cross that finish line in under 30. I did. It wasn’t very much fun.

When enjoyment made me run faster: Contrast that to my second half marathon, where I somehow went from 11:09 pace for a half marathon in September down to 10:30 pace in November, with only a handful of long runs in between. I had a huge improvement in pace, and it wasn’t because of confidence or determination; it was because that second half marathon was fun. I met up with Tony unexpectedly, we had a very similar pace, and talking with him on the course distracted me from any discomfort.

Pain can also be overcome by positive emotions, not just sheer force of determination and willpower.

Gratitude: Gratitude is one of those words that earns the occasional eye-roll. I have read about people who do daily gratitude practices, and this just doesn’t work well for me. When I practice gratitude, I start thinking about the flip side… like what if I had unhealthy children, or lived in a violent neighborhood, or struggled to make mortgage payments. Thinking about things in a grateful way makes me feel sorrow for those who do not have the things I’m grateful for. I end gratitude practices feeling sadness, guilt, anger, worry, and almost zero positive emotions. Unless I am in activist mode, I prefer not to experience these negative thoughts.

That said, I feel a great deal of gratitude lining up at the start line of all of my races.

It was such a crazy, insane deal when I first started Couch to 5k, and then when I first dreamed of doing the 13.1 distance. I still remember how insane and how crazy it was when I first thought to myself spectating the Chilly Half Marathon “I’m going to run this next year.”

It still feels like a practical joke on all the other runners that I’m there, too.

I do feel grateful. I feel joy. I feel pride.

These are emotions that will cause me to surge forward when that hill at mile 10 is making my calves scream.

Not determination. Determination is driven by fear of failure. Fear and doubt make you listen to your calves, analyze your fatigue, pay attention to the miles, second-guess whether you can maintain pace x, y, or z. It might work well for some people, but I am starting to question whether I’m one of them.

Gratitude means whatever pace you run up that hill is good enough, which may free you to actually run faster. It means remembering that this is fun, and you’re happy to be here, and you’re going to enjoy the challenge of that hill because you will feel strong and amazing when you make it to the top. You’re not afraid of what that hill will do to your arbitrary pace goal, you’re excited to conquer it.

You can still have a goal: I’m not saying you can’t also pace yourself and use a GPS watch during a race; but even as you’re checking splits, keeping yourself from going out too fast, following a strategy, do it with a playful mindset. Think about how it’s fun to see what happens with this strategy. Think about how excited you are to be running this race, how grateful you are for the training that got you here and now ready to attempt this goal. Be excited that you’re in this amazing moment attempting to reach your time goal.

It’s possible that you’ll run faster with a light, joyful, playful heart than you could with determination.

It certainly makes for a more enjoyable race.

How do you psych yourself up to run your best?

Choosing Not to Run the Maine Half Marathon: My Silver Lining

• 0 • 13.1 Training, My Running
At Two Lights in Maine, another silver lining to going up for the Maine Half Marathon.

Mair was right. I found a silver lining to Sunday’s race… even though I didn’t run.

It’s hard to reverse a decision. I had decided to run, I was all in, I had accepted that it wouldn’t be a PR, I was ok with just running the 13.1 miles at whatever pace I could manage to prep my legs for the Chilly Half Marathon in November.

So I was pretty upset when it became clear in the middle of the night that my cold had taken a turn for the worse, and it was going to be all I could do to get out of bed and spectate, let alone run. Coughing, sinus pressure, congestion… I was downstairs several times between 2 and 3:30 a.m. raiding the Caiazzo medicine cabinets looking for sudafed and trying to get rid of enough congestion so I could go back to sleep.

Needless to say, when Greg’s alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. I told him I didn’t think I should run. He emphatically agreed, which is when I knew I really shouldn’t run.

How it felt: I should have felt relieved. After all, I no longer had to go battle 10-15 mile per hour head winds and 45 degree weather I wasn’t used to. I no longer had to tackle the challenging (and slightly long) course all while feeling under the weather and battling a cold for the second year in a row, knowing it’d be a mediocre race time. I should have felt relief, right?

I wasn’t even going to run this race originally! I signed up for it long after Greg did, because I was going to watch him run, and save up my training for Chilly. All I was doing was reverting back to the original plan. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal – up until about 6 weeks ago I wasn’t going to run anyway.

But I didn’t feel relief. I felt profound sadness.

I was supposed to be out there, struggling. I was supposed to be pushing through that headwind, digging deep to make it up those hills, laughing when my eyes watered going over the bridge with the cross-winds, wondering what the heck I was doing, feeling crazy and strong and epic and like I was part of something.

I felt anger. Why didn’t I make the decision to quit when I first felt sick, not at 3:45 a.m., 4 hours before the race, after I’d set out all of my running gear and posted my bib number on Facebook. Now I felt like a quitter, looked like a quitter, and suffered remorse because I felt no satisfaction or relief in exchange for quitting.

I almost cried: I was telling Katie (she’s family and a triathlete, so she gets it) why I wasn’t running, and I started to choke up. I was so upset not to be running.

My sadness is the silver lining: I didn’t realize it yesterday, but my sadness is actually the silver lining to dropping out of the race. Not only did I prevent myself from deteriorating into another drawn out case of bronchitis, I also learned something important.

I want to run half marathons.

I don’t feel relief when I’m unexpectedly spectating, I feel loss.

I saw someone walking at mile 10 when we went to pick Greg’s gloves up on the side of the road, and I even felt jealous of them because they were completing the distance. Their legs hurt. They FELT something. They’d endured. They were having the 13.1 experience, and afterwards, they’d have a story to tell. They were also wearing a green tutu. Clearly they had a story.

I realized then that I didn’t really care as much as I thought about accomplishing a pace goal. I do care, I will be sad if I don’t do well at Chilly, but I care just as much about being out there and engaging in the challenge. I would have given a lot just to be out there finishing even slower than last year, just to have the chance to run the course and feel alive in the peculiar way pushing your limits makes you feel.

It WAS great seeing Greg finish: Greg ran a great race, has a new PR in the half marathon, and his time is even more respectable because it’s a slightly long and rather challenging course. He came in 34th out of 1,765 people. It’s quite trippy to watch your husband finish in the top 2% of a half marathon. These are all people who run enough to make it 13.1 miles, and he’s coming in 34th out of seventeen hundred. THAT’S INSANE. A new goal on my bucket list is to get to the point where I can run just one mile at his half marathon pace. I’d better do it soon before he drops the pace target again.

So here I am – I have a renewed faith in my identity as a runner. To feel so upset made me realize that I do want this. I am doing this for myself, not just because Greg’s a runner too.   This is who I am, this is what I do.

I am running this… and I would rather run slowly than not run at all, because I crave the struggle and the journey even when faced with uncertain results.

If you ever wake up the day after a race you didn’t run and feel like crying because your legs don’t hurt and you have no memory of suffering and surviving miles 9-12… you too will know that this is who you are. This is what you do.

You’re a runner.

And there will be another race.