Memories....like the corners of my mind

Clinton's Eagle Point Park is a place that not only offers great running, but wonderful memories of being a kid. I was  able to share the running with my 8-year-old at the annual Symphony of Lights 5k last November. But just hanging out, enjoying the beauty, exploring the castle? That was a joy I was able to share yesterday...

Here's the Clinton Rec Trail between the popular riverfront and the north end boat access. I run it regularly, but the biking is pretty peaceful, too.

We managed another bike ride while "MoMo" was in theater camp in the morning. The sad thing was the local paper revealed a primary volunteer at the windmill died last Friday when he fell working inside the windmill. RIP Mr. Venema.

Biking on the Mighty Miss

While Kid 1 was participating in a glee camp during the morning, Kid 2 and I opted for 10 leisurely miles of biking along the Mighty Mississippi on both the Iowa AND Illinois river fronts...

Gramma & the Marathon

A little story I shared with family about the Illinois Marathon:

Back in the early 90s, when I interned at The Observer, I took up running for that summer--laps and laps around that wee lil' track in the Hart Center. When I wasn't doing that, I'd be bugging Gramma at J & K Kids (where the consignment shop is on 5th Avenue). One time when I'd come in from a run, she told me I was nuts and that I should put on some makeup. "You look like you've got your period!" (True quote!)

Fast forward to last weekend's marathon, somewhere in the final mile. I was fading and just trying to make it to the finish. I started thinking about prayer and how it didn't feel right to ask for God's help since I wasn't running for a charity and I'd voluntarily put myself there.

Then I thought about Grampa Kroymann and then Gramma and instantly heard in my head, "You IDIOT! What are you doing?!" with the image of Gramma standing by her microwave at East 8th Street, doing a fake little faint and slapping the counter with an exasperated sigh. I smiled a little and then went back to focusing on the misery of this last mile.

The route went under a train bridge and just as I was coming out from that, I started to walk. That's when some guy in an orange shirt came up behind me and said, "Come on Baby Cakes! We're gonna do this thing together! I'll run with you!" So I ran with him a few strides and then told him I had to stop. That's when he grabbed my right hand and started pulling me along. "Come on! You can do this! We're going to finish this with a 4 in front!" (Meaning in under 5 hours.)

He pulled me along for about a half mile. At one point, I said to him "You're so kind." He replied, "Hey, we're all family out here! We help each other out!" I have to admit that A) it was a little weird holding hands with this guy, but whatev, it was super helpful; and 2) Marty was going to think it weird when he saw me run into the stadium all cozy with this guy!

I finally had to tell him, "I gotta let go." And then he released my hand. I don't remember if we said anything to each other, I only remember his orange shirt. With only a quarter mile left, I figured I'd find him afterwards and thank him. But I couldn't find him! ANYWHERE!

A few days later, after I'd been telling everyone about my 'Angel in Orange' it dawned on me that mere moments before he came up on me, I'd been thinking about Gramma, secretly asking for some help....

Even in my idiocy, Gramma continues to watch over me, offering little nuggets of aid in the strangest of places and ways.

Oldie recap: Illinois Marathon

I smell of potential...STINKY potential, but potential nonetheless! Rather than dwell on this morning's sub-par run of the Paul Skeffington Memorial 5-miler in a demoralizing 51:20, I'm revisiting last April's Illinois Marathon in 4:53:30...it may not have been a sub-4:30, but it was a PR by 28 minutes and I'll take it!

This is definately a marathon I hope to revisit as there were so many great things about the event that I don't know where to start! The weather cooperated pretty well with temps at the start around 50 with cloud cover and a strong wind from the southeast. If it could've stayed that way throughout, I may have done better, but eventually the clouds blew away revealing beautiful blue skies and bright sun.

I stuck to my game plan, staying relaxed at the 11 min pace, but the guy leading the 5-hour pace group was so annoying that I picked it up so I wouldn't have to watch him run backwards or listen to his corny jokes. As a result, by about the time we reached Mile 8 and entered a park/trail area, I'd caught the 4:45 pace group and simply hung with them up to Mile 18.

The field was open enough that I was able to practice running the tangents, which was fun. I fueled every 5 miles with a Gu and an FRS chew and drank water at every water/Gatorade stop. At Mile 18, I hit some kind of a wall, my energy tanked and it began to feel like work. I was getting hotter as the sun came out and it was growing more difficult to enjoy the experience.

From this point on, it was a walk/shuffle trudge-fest. About 2 miles from the finish, I removed the ear buds and just listened to everyone around me. I also thought about praying (see Gramma & the Marathon)...

About a half mile from the finish, when I tried to give up and walk, I had a lovely man run up from behind and say, "Come on, Baby Cakes! We're gonna do this thing!" When I tried to walk, he grabbed my hand and said, "We're gonna finish this thing with a 4 in front!" I held on for about a quarter mile and then had to let go as we made the final turn to the stadium where the head winds practically blew me off my feet. It bums me out that I never got that angel's name.

Finally I took the last turn into the stadium and gave a final push to cross the finish line. During the last half of the run, I remembered how I still had "gas in the tank" after Chicago. Well I can honestly say I gave it everything I had and left it all on the course. It reminded me of those first moments after giving birth, when you're just so damn grateful it's over. What a FABULOUS feeling!

I'm thrilled to report that I had my first Daily Mile encounter at the finish with Josh (an ultra runner) who made a mighty impressive marathon debut with a 4:04! Kudos, Man!!! And also that a high school friend hammered her first marathon in 4:20! Congrats, Melanie!!!

The route was lovely and flat, winding through the university campus as well as neighborhoods of both Champaign and Urbana. And the towns people came out in full force with loads of cheering and support! But I think finishing on the football field in the stadium was the cherry on top, super duper funtastic! It was a really great experience and I truly hope to go back next year...

...and I'll definately remember the Body Glide.

Cobwebs: the opposite of speed work

Cobwebs on a treadmill could mean a whole lotta things....It could mean you're a lazy ass and might as well start hanging shirts on it....It could mean you're a crappy housekeeper and the creepy crawlers have been busy....OR it could mean the weather's been lovely enough to run outdoors!

Well, I have not been a lazy ass (though 11 days off due to bronchitis has certainly slowed me down a bit) and I must admit that my housekeeping skills are sub-par (which is why I implemented GBT). Given that it's only been 11 days since I've been on the Dready, and that I found a big MOFO crawler in the sun room where the Dready lives, I'd say I've got to do some bug bombing. I smooshed it...and it was gross.

But today's weather offered sporadic rains throughout the day, leaving me little options for the return of SPEED WORK. Speed work is not something I look forward to. I'm not a fast runner and I don't like to run fast, but the only way to get faster, they say, "is to run faster." So dreaded speed work is kind of a must. But on a DREADY? UGH!

Considering I haven't done ANY speed stuff since prior to the Illinois Marathon in April, I'm pretty pleased with tonight's last minute Yasso's 800s, even if it was on the mill. With the incline set at 1%, my warm up/recovery pace was 5.0/11:44 min. miles while my 800s were run at 6.5 aka 9:09 min. miles.

Starting with a half mile warm up, I then ran the first 800/half mile at 6.5, pushing it to 7.0 (8:32 min. mile) for the final tenth. I followed this for a 400/quarter mile at my recovery pace. I was able to repeat this for the 2nd 800, but at the third, I really started to feel it and had to walk a 10th about halfway thru but cranked it back up to 7.0 to finish out the 3rd 800.

I was pretty shot at this point so following the recovery, when I hit the next 800, I decreased the incline to .5% for the last half of it. In the recovery, I bumped the incline back up to 1% and went into the 5th just hoping to make it through without quitting. Halfway thru I had to drop the incline to zero, but I hung in there at the 9:09 min. pace. I had nothing left to give in the 4th and 5th to allow me to bump the speed to 7.0.

The main thing is I gutted it out and finished. But I am wondering, much like hill work, do I stay conservative with speed work so I can finish strong? I tried to do this, but the adage of "the only way to get faster is to run faster" kept going through my mind.

Grey Box Time

Wow, if it wasn't for my nephew's blog post, I wouldn't have visited blogger and seen how long it's been since I've put anything up! I'll just share about our new family venture: Grey Box Time. Grey Box Time is any time spent in front of a tv, computer, Wii, DS, etc. Because I fear the loss of my children's brain matter over these summer months, we're implementing a reward program within the confines of Casa Reed Murrell: for every hour of honest labor, you'll earn 15 minutes of Grey Box Time a.k.a GBT.

Today is Day 1 and thus far, we've earned 45 minutes of GBT. The kids and I have scrubbed one bedroom, a rec room, a bathroom, inventoried book shelves (i.e. "whatever you don't want, put in storage") and moved stuff to the attic. So far, it's working.

We've lunched, the kids have Wii'ed (hmmm, a verb?) and now it's back to the proverbial grindstone.

I'd love to reason that GBT also applies to the Dready and my new Jillian Michaels DVD but that would not help my Food Baby....*sigh*

Human beings doing

This has been a tough week. A woman I know, who has struggled with addiction, OD'ed and was found dead in a street.

It's hard to wrap one's head around such sadness, especially when I see how it has effected some of my friends. One is having a particularly hard time with it and has been beating himself up for not having done more for this person. All week I've found myself sharing about a God who loves and never abandons.

I don't believe God "let" her die. I believe in a Being who created us to experience life fully; a Being who will not stand in the way of our choices, and regardless of whether that Being "likes" our choices, does not abandon us because of them. I understand from my own experience that it sure feels as if God leaves me, but that just brings to mind the Footprints poem. God is with me and in me.

So how does this relate to my running? In my fear of losing my willingness to run, lies my ego....and that's how this all relates. When I start berating myself for not doing enough....not enough stretching, not enough cross training, not enough yoga, not enough prayer....that's when I know my ego is taking the bit and has pushed God aside. I don't know where all this guilt comes from, but it's there. I never do/have/am enough. It's the 'hole in the donut' thing: constantly looking for some "thing" to fill the hole when in reality, my wholeness lies in Being. My spiritual foundation tells me I'm whole just the way I am (despite what I may feel).

I'm reading Phil Jackson's Sacred Hoops and last night I reached the part when the New York Knicks beat the LA Lakers for the '72 championship.
"The postgame festivities in L.A. were exhilarating. This the pinnacle of my sports career to that point, the moment I had been striving for with all my heart since I was a kid. And yet two days later when we gathered again in New York for a celebration with family and friends...suddenly the thrill was gone.... Instead of being overwhelmed with joy, I felt empty and confused. Was this it? I kept saying to myself. Is this what was supposed to bring me happiness?"

While I'm no famous, mega-athlete, I am doing something I've NEVER done before, but secretly wished I could--I run. And when I read those words, I knew exactly what Jackson was talking about because I experienced it after completing the Chicago Marathon. "Instead of being overwhelmed with joy, I felt empty and confused." I did not feel as if I'd completed something amazing. I did not feel victorious in seeing my goal through. I felt empty and definately confused.

Phil Jackson was in his early 30s when he began experiencing these epiphanies. I was 30 when I experienced my first, that I am an alcoholic. Here I am 40, and still solidly on that sacred path of sobriety, but I've carved a space into my life for running. And in the nearly 2 years I've been hitting the road, I'm beginning to trust in Being.

Last year, I was downright obsessed with training for Chicago. So much so that I gave no mind to my inner voice. My ego was in control. What happened? I ended up in physical therapy 3 different times between April and September, ignored many of the suggestions for first time marathoners, and while I completed the event, I'd wrecked my body so bad it took a month for my feet to stop hurting.

I don't have a ton of deep insight today, but I am slowly growing more aware of my inner voice. I'm more aware of my body and its little aches and pains. I'm more aware of the need to "chillax" and change up my training program. I'm sure some of this is due to experience-I'm no longer a first timer. But I'm hopeful that it's more than that....I'm hopeful that I'll continue to listen to that inner voice, and in doing so, loosen the rigidity of training. I'm hopeful that I'll grow more trusting of the process and thus, more trusting of Being.

As an old friend of mine used to say, "We're human beings not human doings." Some days I understand this. Many days I just don't get it. But for today, I know God watches me and is with me, whether I'm running, sitting, reading, working--God is with me...

...eye is on the sparrow.

Feb. 5, 2011--B-rrry Scurry

4.04 miles/09:03 pace/226th in a field of 659:

Meh!!! Despite this being the fastest I've run an event, I didn't fuel well, thus didn't feel well--no cereal, no vitamins, just grabbed a plain bagel and coffee before running out the door for more coffee with friends. En route I stopped at a gas station for a Mtn. Dew, Tootsie Roll log and bag of sour gummy worms. Yeah, DUMBA$$!!!!

By the time the race came around at Noon I'd failed to put a drop of water in my body or really anything that would count as a fuel. Fortunately the weather was nice and the course was flat. I ran, but had trouble getting comfortable with my pace and felt tired and breathless the whole time (hmmm, wonder why?). I even stopped and walked a few steps around the 2.5 mile marker. But I'd hoped to get a time of 36:59 or better and did accomplish that. Frowny Face for my non-negative splits: 8:56, 9:03, 9:16, and 9:06 with an extra 20 seconds for the .04 on my Garmin.

That's me in the pink top #478 with about a quarter mile to go. Fortunately no aches/pains/injuries. Just no "umph" and outta gas!

Jan. 15, 2011--Frostbite Footrace aka Big F'er

5.01 miles/9:52 pace

HOLY SHITAKI MUSHROOMS did this race kick the crap outta me! I should look on the bright side and that is, this time last year, I couldn't run 5 miles, let alone do it under 50 min. But that's about the only bright spot...

Occurring in Iowa's Scott County Park, when Hubs and I lived closer, we used to bike through it. The hills were a great challenge. That was 10 years ago....my how the mind has a way of forgetting the pain. Where we live now, I have the opportunity to run a lot of hills, lots of looong hills. The hills in Scott County Park are, by comparison, WALLS. And some of them are really tall walls!

Fortunately I didn't suffer any major aches, strains or pains and because I like to start out in the back of the pack, I passed more then I was passed. That said, I really had a chance to check myself mentally and look at my competitive nature. Here's the ugliness that I saw A) when I see other girl runners, my initial reaction is to size them up in judgement; B) if they pass me, I curse them (internally) and if I pass them, I cheer them (again, internally). How AWFUL! I SUCK!!!

I recognized this within the first couple miles so I countered it by cheering (not in my head, but with my voice) the lead female after she hit the turn around and was running toward me. I also cheered on the lead guys. As the race neared its end, I (mentally) cheered and sent well wishes to the women in front of me. Several times during the race, I had to stop and walk. I really hate, hate, HATE when I have to do this, but again, I checked my competitive nature and saw the need to accept the fact that, for me, walking is sometimes gonna be part of the race.

When it comes down to it, whether we won, PRed, walked it or finished dead last, we did it...on a cold January day, when most people were camped on the couch.

I now see how vital it is for me to be a channel for positive energy toward my fellow female runners. Whether or not any of "My Girls" have caught on to this character defect, I sincerely apologize and promise to see you as the amazing women you are...not my competition.

Shoes from hell

Upon reading that initial entry and seeing where it ended, I felt I needed to vent on the shoe bidness! Everyone told me how vital it was to be properly fit at a proper running store. So I did just that, headed down to THE running store in my area. This was in September 2009. I prepared myself for not being taken seriously, because I did NOT look like a runner. I was more like the Stay-Puff Marshmellow Man and so when I approached the salesman, I outted myself immediately, stating something to the effect of, "Hey, I know I don't look like a runner, but I'm trying. Can you help me?"

He seemed pretty friendly, had me take off my shoes and sized me. I told him I had my old shoes in the car and asked if he needed to see them and he said, "Nah." Then he told me that it looked as if I had high arches. Hmmm, there was this little twinge in my gut that told me this wasn't right. I was 38 years old and had NEVAH been told I had high arches, but whatev, he was the running dude so he knows what he's doing, right?

He put me in the Nike Moto and asked what I thought. They didn't feel awful, but they didn't feel great either. "Maybe that was just the way it goes with running shoes," I guessed, so I shelled out the 100 clams and headed off.

By late March of 2010, I'd logged nearly 300 miles in the shoes and was battling ongoing hip problems that began in November of 2009. Given that I'd suffered a case of hip bursitis in the fall of 1990, I figured it was something that I simply had to suck up and deal with. Unfortunately by early April it was becoming unbearable and I wasn't able to run. Thinking my shoes were tanked, I returned to the running store to buy new shoes and told the salesman (a different one this time) what I'd worn and about my previous visit and he looked a little surprised about the high arches but shrugged his shoulders and fetched a pair of Saucony Pro Grids (since I told him I'd like to try something new).

The hip problem didn't improve and I was quickly beginning to worry about running the Christie Clinic Illinois Half Marathon that was slated for May 1. After seeing my doctor and being referred to an osteopath who referred me to physical therapy, I started getting ultrasound therapy in April, but it was too late. I had to take a knee at Illinois. =(

When I resumed training in May, I was feeling good about the physical therapy and the exercises they'd given me. But in June, when marathon training began for Chicago 10.10.10, the hip issue reared its ugly head and I was back in physical therapy! Through all of this, several running friends questioned me about my shoes, but I assured them I'd been fitted! (The growing gnaw at my gut was that this reknowned running store had F'ed me!)

By early July, I couldn't take the questions from others and in my head so thanks to a Daily Mile friend, it was suggested I visit The Shoe Shack in Dubuque, Iowa. First, they drilled me on my current running as well as my goals then they asked to see my current running shoes (thankfully I was wearing them) so they could judge the tread wear. Then a print of my foot was taken and I was shown that I have MEDIUM arches (medium does not = high). Finally, it was determined that I needed stability plus shoes due to my arches and the amount of mileage I was putting in each week. I left with pairs of Asics Kayanos and Brooks Dyads.

Within the week, the hip pain was GONE!

Moral of the story? Listen to your GUT (and the voices of running friends)!

How it all began...

This post was originally penned on 25 February 2010, almost 1 year ago, back when I was questioning whether or not I wanted to re-enter the foray of blogs. And so it sat in an empty draft folder...and soooo much has changed since then. Rather then fill you in now, I'll just let this one go out into the nether regions and eventually type a little catch up. For now though, here's the beginning of The Mom Bod blog:

Eight miles on a treadmill?! That's right, 8 miles, bee-otches! This, coming from someone who has A) never been a runner and 2) feebly started 'jogging/shuffling/gasping' last June. After smoking some really great grass (sarcasm, people) I've opted to embrace turning the big 4-0 by running the Chicago Marathon this October. So in order to do that, I'm in training.

You may have interred by this blog's name that I am a mom and that I have a bod. Not a bodacious bod, mind you, but a "Mom Bod." You know the bod I'm talking about, right? It's the dimply, pear-shape some of us mother's morph into following the birth of children and the early years of rearing them. The kind of bod that looks really bad in pleated khakis. The kind of bod that stays covered, usually in oversized t-shirts that hang over the butt. The kind of bod I've always feared having, but secretly knew resided within me. Recall the scene in "The Breakfast Club" in which Judd Nelson's character rants at the Molly Ringwold character that she's just waiting to get fat... Hello, I'm that Molly Ringwold character...

Over the past 12.5 years of marriage, suffice it to say, my husband and I have "softened" a bit. He's always been more active than me so his softening has been quite meager compared to mine, but marriage, for some reason, can have that effect on couples. But having been together for this long and adding a couple kids to our family, I'd reached the point where I no longer avoided looking at pictures of myself because Fatty McFatty wasn't so foreign to me anymore. I'd accepted my size 14-16 body and that was that. I'd held out hope of changing it, returning to my pre-marriage sveltness, with different diet aides, forearrays into fitness classes and such, but to be honest, that was such WORK! And let's not forget the sacrifice, Ugh! My two greatest foes are my love for the couch and shitty food. Mmm. Mmm. Good.

WTF? Good?!!! My bod is clinically categorized as 'obese' as I stand at a height of 5'3" with a girth of 174 fun-lovin pounds. And you know what pisses me off? Since starting to walk last May and then jog by June (run by July), I haven't lost one damn POUND!! Do you have any idea of how many expletives I'd like to punch into this post? I find I have to slip into an old Orbit gum commercial to relieve my angst: "Who you callin' a Cootie Queen you, LINT LICKER?!!!"

But last May, in preparing for a family trip to Florida, I went swimsuit shopping and felt so ugly and huge and lonely and sad, that when I got home, I simply put on a pair of tennies and went walking. I had no plan, no intention, I just didn't want to "feel" so lazy and lathargic. If you had told me that 9 months later I'd be training for a May 1 half marathon and an Oct. 10 full marathon, I would have punched you in the head for making such mockery of me because surely there was no way in HELL that I would ever be a runner.

And yet here I am. I waited until August before I went to a running store and shelled out the bucks for a good pair of shoes because I know myself, I am a flake! And I flake out on sorts of things and people, but I figured if I was still running by September, chances are, I'd keep going for a while. And I have. In fact, I've logged over 200 miles in the new shoes!