Constants

Throughout my life, there have been few constants. I moved around a lot growing up, so my family and friends are scattered through Texas. One of my best is in L.A. My parents, my sister, and now my husband and children are the central themes of my life. Also on the short list of constants is music.
As a young girl, I loved Neil Young and the Beach Boys. I had Michael Jackson's Black and White album on cassette tape and I would dance spastically for hours in my room to it. I was at the mercy of my parent's almost decent taste in music until I hit junior high. Alternative music was blossoming and I was discovering how satisfying could be.
It began with Counting Crows, and continued into Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Fiona Apple, Weezer. Then in 8th grade I went through a pretty serious 70's rock phase. Neil again, Jimi, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, and of course, Led Zeppelin. Jimmy Page inspired me to pick up the guitar and make it sound the way he did. I'm still trying to figure that out, but he got the ball rolling.
I forced my dad to teach me chords and give me his old song books. When I moved to San Antonio in 9th grade, I would bring my guitar to school often. I attended a magnet school that emphasized creativity and learning in a group setting, so I was tolerated by teachers. Dumb boys were easy to get free guitar lessons out of, and by the end of the year I could play. The middle of that year is when I discovered Ani Difranco. Fifteen and license-less I plopped on the couch one Saturday night for a night of sulking and this slapped me in the face:




 


 She played other songs from Not a Pretty Girl and Little Plastic Castles with such fire and ferocity. I had never seen a woman play guitar as adroitly as that before. It was an instrument she pounded on for emphasis. She demanded that it participate in her storytelling as much as her voice. I was enthralled. I went to bed that night with my little chauvinistic mind blown. I wanted to write songs and share them with conviction like that beautiful chick with the hot pink braids.

I carried on through my teenage years. I lived, I loved, I wasted time wrapped up in dramas that were life consuming at the time but in retrospect made me look embarrassingly vapid and weak. To cope with the highs and lows, I did turn to my guitar and my pen. I followed Ani's music as she chronicled her versions of the highs and lows. I attended her shows when I could. The one I blogged about in 2006 while I was living in Austin, was particularly moving for me. I was a brand new young mother, and she played for us in the rain with her growing child in her womb:

Exerpt from my 2006 blog
Ani With Child
DateCreated 10/18/2006 11:58:00 PM
The opening act was a cute slight little man with military issue type glasses and an acoustic guitar who I promptly forgot about. The act after him was a poet who was very passionate and eloquent and entertaining and had me completely enthralled by his final piece. But I can't remember his name either. Rain begins to pour towards the end of his set and the crowd pushes forward straining to huddle under the protectoin of the awning that comes out of the stage. The lights do a little dance and Ani pops on to stage smiling and beautiful with a reddish tint glowing around her curly hair. She launches into Knuckle Down which couldn't be a more fitting opening song. Her guitar hides her swelling belly. She is as energetic and charismatic as ever and yes, she glows. The only evidence I can see of her delicate condition is her arms. Normally sinewy and taut with the muscles that she has grown due to years of intense guitar playing, the muscles jump around a little deeper under her skin. My arms were the first to suffer when I was pregnant too. She quickly makes a reference to her pregnancy. She mentions things are different for her now, and asks all the mothers in the audience to show themselves. I am already jumping around like a chihuahua reunited with her mistress and I jump higher. Not many others do. She continues through a very satisfying set playing many songs from 2005's Knuckle Down. She gets into some oldies though with Done Wrong, Anticipate, Fourth of July (which she revealed was inspired by our own ATX), and Shameless. She throws in a heavy dose of more recent songs like Manhole, Studying Stones, Paradigm, and Recoil. She took all of my favorite songs from Knuckle Down and played them so well. Her right hand was wrapped in an ace bandage-I presume as a result of her bout of tendonitis-but the tatooed fingers of her left hand danced expertly along the fretboards of her many guitars. There were a couple of drunken idiot girls in front of us hanging on each other for balance while dancing/humping each other and bumping into everyone. They weren't paying attention to the woman we were all there for and they eventually pissed off a big chick near us and came within an inch of getting thier asses beat. They skulked away so I ended up about two people away from the stage. The best spot ever. I had to pee so bad it hurt and I was dancing with reverence and a desire to keep from pissing on myself. But that spot was so worth it. Ani joked with the audience about her big pregnant lady pants and her swollen tits. She donned a pair of red suspenders volunteered by an audience member after her mention of her slipping pants. But she played so long and so powerfully. When I was as pregnant as she was, a trip to the grocery store was enough to put me in bed for the rest of the day. It was a damn excursion. And this woman is on stage belting out music and laughing with us when her baby kicks in response. She is my fucking hero. After she came out for a quick encore and closed with Hypnotized from her new album, an ode, no doubt, to her new love, I caught a beautifully candid glimpse of her face as she walked off stage for the final time that night. She exhaled as if to say " whew", but she was smiling faintly, like she knew she had put in a good night's work. I'm in love for LIFE. 


This woman and her music has been a constant in my life. We are all connected and I am eternally optimistic about the poetry of this experience we are all having. It does mean something and the universe is gently offering us guidance. I believe right now, I'm being led towards a place of balance in my life in which I can feed my creativity while seeking the peace that comes with running. Writing and creating is a necessary tool for processing our emotions and I've been avoiding it. Running from it? :)
The two can coexist and will complement each other. Time to jog the muscle memory of my hands.

Balance

After Sunday's 13.1, I was eager to get back out there and make sure my legs remembered how to move faster. I'm still too immature as a runner to fully comprehend the science behind recovery. I read  about it in magazines and blogs, I know it's a 'thing'-but sticking to a structured routine is what keeps me sane. I have taken two complete rest days per week for the past two weeks and while my legs were sore from the half, I wanted to move.
On Mondays I usually do a tempo run with 2 to 3 recovery miles. I don't warm up, which is dumb, but I'm always eager to get it over with. I decided to just do 2 miles fast and one cool down. It went ok, but my legs felt weird when I was done. Like drunk angry ants were stumbling around in there. I took it easy the rest of the day, but headed to OCF (my gym) that evening for some weight training and what I told myself would be an arm+abs workout. Wrong. It ended up being a fun, fast paced, leg and abs workout. I used light weights, but guiltily went straight home to ice my singing muscles in the bathtub.
I took Tuesday off and resumed my regular training on Wednesday morning which is track or speed work and weights in the evening. I decided to use my neighborhood since I have all distances mapped out. The result was confusing. My legs wanted to go fast, but they hurt. I felt strong, but my breathing was labored and crazy. My legs felt like they were going to fall off at the end of every interval and I had no sense of pace. I was also on the worst PMS day in my cycle (sorry, male readers).

By the end, I felt like this:









Weights did not happen. I helped with the 4:30 CCD class which was doubled in size this week since we had Pre-K and Kindergarten. Mercifully, we watched Veggie Tales and colored. The only child who was a nuisance was mine. The older kids were sweet to him because he's cute, but I was horrified to notice that the frosting from the yogurt covered pretzels I gave him to munch on at the house was coating the entire back of his head. He looked like he had the world's worst case of head lice. I spent much of the class time trying to convince him that wearing his hood was cool.
My children screamed and fought the whole way home and into the house where I went straight to the fridge for a beer. My husband ushered them away from me because I'm sure I looked like I was about to snap.
I ended up making a really tasty dinner of pan fried chicken with rosemary, mashed potatoes, and sauteed kale which for once everyone loved,and my husband thanked me by cleaning the kitchen while I piled into bed with the boys to watch Christmas movies. After a solid 10, I woke up the next day feeling much better.

I know some athletes train in cycles or seasons and take one to two full weeks off of real working out per year. Since I have been active for about a year, and am pretty excited about growing and pushing my running fitness, this could not sound less alluring. I've come so far from my skinny fat days.

When my husband Mark and I first met I thought I was in shape. My fitness routine consisted of lifting just enough weight to maintain some semblance of muscle tone. I skipped breakfast if I was going to be wearing a bathing suit that day. I knew how to use good posture to my advantage. My farthest run was out of necessity one evening when my husband and I were swinging in a park with a lunchbox full of beer and the cops pulled up. Since we had the terrible luck of getting a ticket for drinking beer in a park the week before  at sculpture falls where even the dogs are drinking beer, we decided to make a run for it. About 800 meters in, literally running for my life, we had to bail into the woods because I couldn't go on. Lactic acid felt like death and not knowing how to deal, I quit. It was embarrassing, to say the least. He got poison ivy and I had red chigger bites all over me for the next week. We escaped, but in the most humiliating way.

Sculpture falls 2007, skinny fat and happy, drinking forbidden beers

I still think about that. I need to be able to outrun my enemies (I do not think cops are enemies). I hope they stay as benign as competitors in local foot races, but if not, I want to be prepared. Not resting will compromise that as much as not running will. I'm going to take that whole week off one day. Probably in the summer, which I am already afraid of again. Until then, I will go with the flow and listen to my body. The longer I run, the easier it is to be flexible. I know it doesn't go away just because you take the time to recover. But a good run can leave you in love with the world. And the good runs usually come when your body feels like thanking you....

Village Creek 2013, the summer of run, still drinking beer

Rungirl 13.1 race recap

Ahhh, rungirl. This was my second half marathon. My first was a spur of the moment, fly by the seat of my pants kind of race. I didn't know if I could run 13.1 miles. I was in good shape (thanks to Orange County Fitness)  but long distance running was not yet in my bag of tricks. Pull ups and burpees, yes. Running so long you rub your armpit skin off? Not yet. I made it, but it left me longing to feel like I had raced it.
I toed the line of this race after running consistently for a year, averaging about 25-30 miles a week. During my 'training' for the half, I upped my easy run mileage to six miles and my long runs to 10, 11, 12 and 13 miles. I still basically ran 5k specific workouts, but I got up to about 35 miles a week. I felt much more prepared for this run. However, I still lacked the experience to know how hard to push, or when to really try to push the pace.
This was the perfect run to gain that experience. The start was in a park and the course brought you out to a lovely wooded, winding road. There were rolling hills, but they were imperceptible. The downhills, on the other hand, were noticeable-and I loved them.
It was a two loop course and on both significant downhills I took the coasting opportunity to eat the fruit snacks I had stashed in my sports bra. The cool thing about this race being a two loop course is that you get a scenic stretch outside the park, and then inside the park (which covers about 3 miles)  you have constant support from spectators. This made the run go by quickly. It was a wet 39 degrees outside and that helped make it easier to keep the pace brisk. Like I said, I am unfamiliar with the nuances of racing this distance, so I kept it cool and comfortable but made sure my legs were turning over at a decent clip. I ran back and forth with some younger girls for a while, but lost them at one of the aid stations when they stopped to drink. I concentrated on enjoying myself and marveled at how easily that came. The quiet woods, the cold air, and the unspoken camaraderie laced with competition  among the women created the perfect atmosphere in which to experience those rare moments in running where you feel alive, present, strong, and free. There were uncertain times when I choked on water and cursed my broken iphone but the bulk of this race was spent in a happy cruise.  Before I knew it, we were on the second loop heading back into the park for the last 3 miles of the race. I picked up the pace slightly. There was a girl who passed me around mile 5 who I wanted to reel in. I knew she was motivated to do well because she looked at her watch like every 30 seconds. I began to let go of the tight grip I had on my pace.
Sadly, I have an iphone that is literally held together with KT tape and one Angry Birds bandaid. As soon as the race started I somehow hit repeat for songs as I tried to pull up my carefully planned playlist. So I was stuck listening to one song on repeat unless I wanted to fight with my frozen hand to slap the correct areas of the cracked screen in order to get a different repeated song. To add insult to injury, it was so cold outside that my frozen hand didn't register on the screen as belonging to a live human being until every 4th or 5th slap. After one particularly bad fight with my phone somewhere out on the wooded road, I gave up and listened to 'Work Bitch' by Britney Spears for the last 4 miles of the race. I know. It actually helped, though. There is one part that reminds me of running fast on a track and it felt great every four minutes when it would come back on.
So, as Britney chanted to me that I would have to work for the hot body I was craving, I ran the last 3 miles almost as I would a 5k. My style anyway; a careful, swift trot. I passed my husband, preened for him as he took pics, and with about half a mile to go I finally felt done. My body must have sensed an approaching finish line because my nose began to run uncontrollably and I'm pretty sure I was grunting. I got within sprinting distance of the girl I was chasing and in the process passed about 4 women. I never passed the faster girl, but I approached the clock and saw 1:50 and sprinted to beat the changing minute. Final official time: 1:50. 35th overall out of 832 and 8th in my age group. I didn't run as fast as I possibly could have, but I got a little more comfortable with the distance and closer to doing it next time. I started my Nike Plus watch a little late and it still had the course at 13.20 miles and my half marathon time at 1:48. While that time would have had me jumping for joy, I am ok with waiting for the next half to secure it officially.

After the race I wanted badly to meet up with friends and hang out in the festive atmosphere, but my sweat soaked tank top quickly had me shaking uncontrollably. I ended up hightailing it to the heated car.
All in all, this was a well run race that I will certainly do again. It provided the experience I need to tackle my next half more aggressively and taught me that 13.1 miles isn't a bad racing distance. It's actually pretty pleasant when you coast along at my pace. My goal is to make the next one suck from mile 8 onward and hopefully end up with a satisfying pr. I will post training info here when I begin my first-ever-real-deal-by-the-book training program for the Gusher Marathon, Half Marathon and 5k in March 2014 <3
                                     

This photo is called 'WTF are my kids?! As I notice my husband-who has our kids-is alone taking pics

I think this is the first race I smiled through <3 

                 

cruise

heading for the home stretch

I immediately lost my official photo booth pic

Negative splits! (kind of)

Groves Knights of Columbus 5k Race Recap

I planned this race as a substitute for a tempo run. It was cheap and only about ten minutes away, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to run with the energy of other people carrying me instead of on my own in the same route in my neighborhood where people STILL look at me like I'm crazy after being on those streets almost every day for a year.
I had been doing weekly 20 minute tempos for about a month at this point and was finally feeling better about my endurance. The week before I ran a very hot 5k in 22:18-good for 4th overall and 1st female being that it was a tiny race. I had no time goal for this one.
I woke up and prepared my usual; toast, peanut butter, and banana and coffee. It was blustery and cold and my sleeping family made it very difficult to pry myself off the couch and head outside. Due to the early hour, I got to the race in about 8 minutes and had an hour to warm up, sit in the car, try not to look too awkward by myself, and pee about 4 times. The small group of runners finally lined up at 8. We all took off into a decent headwind. This particular race was offering a free pair of shoes to the overall male and female winners. I didn't recognize anyone so I thought I had a good shot. However, at the start I saw one young girl dart about 100 feet ahead of me.
I figured she would slow down at the first mile, but she never did. I accepted that I would have to chase her down. A new tactic for me. I am unfamiliar with the art of racing, but that is why I am going to jump into as many local races as I can. Around the 2.5 mark, I catch up to her. Foolishly, I try to pass her there. I am not sure where the finish line is, but I figure it can't be much longer. So, I surge, she surges, I surge. Then finally I let her go. I am tired now, and still can't see the finish. I see the girl take off again, and then the finish comes into view. A group of guys pass me and I kick (slowly) to the finish, leaving them close behind.

                           (My lovely post-run gag face)

2nd overall female 1st age group

I was excited to see the clock was at 21:00 when it came into view. I ended up with a finish of 21:28-a new pr. I hope to cut that down further this winter and spring, but I was delighted that it came more easily than I expected. I was focused on racing, not the time. It's a fun way to run.
I stuck around for the awards and tried not to feel awkward since this was my first time to be at a race solo. Our local running community is so warm and friendly that I ended up chatting most of the time.
I headed home, excited to tell my husband about my tiny experience with 'racing', and to get ready for a fun day in Houston with our family BFF's Shanna, Jeremy, and Jody.
We spend a couple hours holed up in the Black Lab drinking pints, eating English comfort foods, and telling stories. It was one of the best days I had in a while.

Why I'm born again and RunGirl 13.1

I am starting this fresh new blog because the past year has brought so many changes and shifts in my life's direction that I felt it was necessary to start over.
In the last year and a half I have become a runner. In August of 2012 I joined Orange County Fitness bootcamp. It was (then) predominantly female, in a parking lot, and hard as hell. It still is. But the founder, Kim Faulkner, was/is so encouraging and supportive and bad ass that I quickly resolved to be as dedicated as she and the other women in my class were.
This was my catalyst.
It started with getting in shape and evolved into a desire to run fast. Suddenly, my free time is spent racing and long running for fun instead of seeking out the coolest places to catch a buzz with my husband in an attempt to reclaim a bit of the young and free feelings of our early courtship. The satisfaction and space I have found during my solo and group runs is so deep that I feel like the 2011 me has shed her alcohol and fried food soaked skin and become a different form of person.  This year has also seen life long relationships run their course and dissipate into a wisp of decades old memories. While that is not a negative thing- it happens-it's a marked change in the cast of characters in my life.

Spiritually, I am as studious as ever. That means sporadically but with unfaltering enthusiasm. I chip away at my understanding of my origins and my destiny each week at mass (well, mostly each week), at CCD teaching my preschoolers the basics ( we are on the same level most of the time), and every Thursday with a woman named Lamore who studies the bible with me from the perspective of a Jehovah's Witness. We've been at it about a year and a half, maybe two. I love her.

This is why I feel compelled to approach this blog from the angle of a person who has been born again. I'm still me, but I can't relate to the entries from my old blog as quickly as I used to be able to...So here is a new space I am dedicating to all things running and living. I will recap the races I've done, document the training I do, and chronicle everything of interest in between. I'm still learning how to train and race and I know I take a ton of advice from other online sources. My hope is that eventually I can offer some reassurance to nervous first time racers or interesting training tips to someone learning how to get into a training routine.

On my agenda this weekend is the RunGirl half marathon and relay race. It will be my second half marathon. I ran my first half marathon, the Gusher Marathon, half marathon, and 5k, last March. It was my second race ever. I had run my first race ever, the Mardi Gras 5k, the month before. I was underprepared, had only ever run as far as 7 miles once, and was both terrified and way too confident. I figured it would just feel the way six miles feels. Twice. Mercifully, my husband agreed to run it by my side and he paced me to finish comfortably in 1:57.
Since then I've been doing long runs regularly every week. I ran through the hot sweltering Southeast Texas summer and became familiar with how 10 milers feel. Nevertheless, I am very nervous. I will be running alone, I won't have my pacer, and I'm not sure how it feels to actually push a pace in a racing environment of so many miles. However, in order to race future half marathons and perform at my best, I need the experience of another 13.1 under my belt. I know I sound like a giant baby. I have runner friends who pop up on my Facebook newsfeed with updates about half marathons regularly. I know it's generally viewed as a totally doable distance. I'm just too much of a newbie and a control freak to relax into the experience and just let it flow. However, I am going to pretend that is what I'm doing.
I must now go eat and rest vigorously. Here's to feeling the most alive, as often as possible.

All the Time