So yesterday I got all introspective and thankful and happy, counting my blessings despite the nasty weather outside. What I FAILED to mention was the dark side of the tropical storms’ effects.

No, no… not flooding or fallen limbs, no damaged roofs or wind-blown chaos. The damage I speak of is a by-product of horrible weather. The horror I share is that which happens when tropical storms drive me indoors for workouts. The horror of … The Dunwoody L.A. Fitness. [If that name brings no ire of fear in your very being, please refer to a previous post of mine - An Open Letter to L.A. Fitness.]

But ooooohhhh… the Dunwoody L.A. Fitness. A place where stench and douchebags come together in a fit of explosive ridiculousness. A place that, genetically speaking, is 90% devoid of that which is good. A place that steals your innocence with more nipple sightings than people, and more plastic than real body parts. A place where meatheads abound and bimbos rule. A place my friends, which I shall never wish upon you.

Example #1
Innocently putting my bag into a locker for safe keeping thrusts me deep into sweaty, somewhat hairy, cleavage, as some lady deems it necesary to take up 10 ft of space to change her bra post workout.

Example #2
Working out my rear deltoid places me on a machine next to someone discussing his injured pectoral muscle. And why pray tell, is it injured? Well thanks to him discussing the topic so loudly with his friends, I now know that said injury occurred while he was slapping his wife’s ass during sex. Vomit. I no longer even want deltoids.

Example #3
Waiting in line for a treadmill (yes.. WAITING IN LINE at a GYM to WORKOUT) forces me in the middle of a heated argument between meathead #1, meathead #2, and bimbo (who apparently belongs to one meathead and was hit on by the other). Oddly, the argument quickly turned from what you might assume – “don’t hit on my girl, she’s taken” – to a weird testerone induced twilight zone. The meatheads decided that whomever could benchpress the most would win the honor of dragging bimbo into the sunset.  

First of all… WHERE am I? Second of all… do wonders never cease?

Please pray that tomorrow brings sunshine for outdoor workouts, and Santa brings Lauren a new gym for Christmas.

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In the spirit of crazy, I share with you a quote brought to my attention by my friend Justine…

 ”In Canada, a severed human foot was found washed up on shore wearing a Nike running shoe. Nike says it’s all part of their new campaign, ‘Just Do It…or Else.” 
…Conan O’Brien…

This rain is brutal. Since when did I move to the rainforest?! (…minus the fun of strange looking animals that throw poop at you.) Thankfully it’s here for a short stint this time around. We had a 5 day reprieve of awesome-ness last week and this tropical storm shenanigans should be gone by Wednesday this week.

I shall not complain, because after taking a hard look at myself over the past week, I’m amazed at the number of great things that are happening in my life lately…

1. I’ve gotten in some speedyspeedy runs in the past few weeks. A bunch of interval workouts and pace runs of distances between 8-13 miles are showing me I have some leg turnover I had forgotten about. I’ve felt strong with multiple weekly runs at or under Boston qualifying marathon pace. CANNOT get ahead of myself though. It’s obviously easier to maintain 8:00-8:20 pace for half the distance. Not sure that I’m *quite* ready to run a 3hrs, 40min at the Huntsville marathon in 4.5 weeks. But I’ll sure as hell try, and along with smarter fueling and pacing, I’ll definitely hit a PR in the 3:50s at worst. I’m excited.

2. I’m finally losing weight. Over the past 2 years I took (way too much) to heart the idea of eating, drinking and being merry… and it has shown. It may just be 15 lbs, and I don’t care if others can’t tell (liars – all of em!). I can tell. And in order to get some of my speed back, I know I need to get back to my previous weight. But now, finally seeing numbers tick off the dreaded scale. 8 down, 7 more to go.

3. I’ve had lots of small running successes lately that make me feel like I’m going somewhere and it’s a huge boost to my self-esteem. Conquering the 50k trail idea was huge for how I think of myself as a “real” runner. I’ve been educating myself better too (imagine that… running for 16 years and I still don’t know everything!) and it’s moving me forward… eating better before, during, after workouts has helped me a lot. Plus, I finally owned up to the fact that I overpronate (damn wide birthin hips) and got shoes with more stability in them to help overcome my uneven foot strike. I can already tell a huge difference/improvement. In 2009, I’ve PR’d in the 10k and half marathon distance. Hopefully I’ll round out the year with a 26.2 PR too.

4. I FINALLY finished reading the Fountainhead! Small wins feel good too. It wasn’t a bad book, just heavy-handed at times with its message… and it managed to drone on and on since I had only time to read about 10 pages a week since starting the damn thing back in March. Alas… I’ve finally wrapped it up and moved on to something brainless for the time being. Fumes!

5. I’m completely and totally in love. It’s lame to share that publicly, but I don’t care. It’s a success in my book, and feels awesome besides, so I feel the need to shout out loud about it.

6. Enjoyed some ridiculously beautiful fall weather while running the past couple weeks. Naomi and I conquered 16 miles at Kennesaw Mtn last weekend. There is nothing like emersing yourself in God’s bright reds, yellows and oranges in 50 degree weather under a crystal blue sky. Living life to say the least.

7. I’ve started my gear list for the Great Western Adventure of 2011. I’m diving in head first with planning, but am still pretty scared of sharing the news with my family (who happen to also be coworkers). I know ultimately they’ll support me and we’ll figure it all out, but I’ll deal with that later. For now I’m just happy to scrutinize ounces, plan gear, read anything I can and dream, dream, dream of mountain passes, desert plains and all the goodness the woods have to offer. Yes, yes?

Life can be tough and crappy and we all know that. So I think we need to appreciate and celebrate whenever possible. Be ever mindful of the gifts and blessings we have, no?

Yay for love, yay for joy, yay for life!

It’s not all running and DMB-ing up in here.

Sometimes a girl’s gotta get herself cultured. And what screams culture more than Atlanta’s historical Fox Theatre and… Fantasia Barrino?

A couple weeks ago Mom and I made a routine trek to the Fabulous Fox in midtown to see Fantasia… yes… that Fantasia… star in the stage rendition of Alice Walker’s classic, The Color Purple. And yes… Mom and I were two of the 10 caucasian’s in the sold out audience. But let’s not mince words here. It was PHENOMENAL. I always thought Fantasia was a pretty annoying person on American Idol, but she is on point when it comes to live theatre. Her portrayal of the lead, Celie, was brilliant. Seriously… this was one of the absolute best live performances I have ever seen. I bawled like a baby and rolled with laughter.

If you’re not familiar with the story, you can read synopses on your own time. For now, I want to share how the story of a poor, uneducated (and raped and beaten), black woman relates to little ole me. Because it seems it’s a story more about recovering from a crappy situation in the most unexpected ways. Maybe it’s not what your circumstances are. We all go through tough stuff. Live’s got its hardships, its challenges… and it’s manifested differently in every person’s life. But the situations aren’t what’s important. Rather, it’s how we react to those situations, how we choose to overcome, how we find our inner strength.

Throughout the production, I found myself screaming inside for Celie to stand up for herself, to harness some strength against her opressors by running away in the night, slapping someone silly, anything! Rather, she continued to persevere and just TAKE all the abuse, all the hardship. David beat Goliath, why can’t Celie just stand up for herself?! But then it dawned on me that the reason David beats Goliath is not brute strength. He doesn’t harness some ethereal power to overcome his situation; but rather humility, patience, perseverence and love for something outside himself. Celie as well was not an outwardly strong character. She can’t just all of a sudden pretend to be strong to succeed. Rather she patiently yet tenaciously perseveres, shows strength of spirit and never gives up on the idea of love. She can only overcome by using the talents she does have to better herself. And only by focusing on her passions, pushing herself to her limits to create success, is she able to realize that true inner strength and finally heal from her starkly wounded past.

What the hell does this have to do with me? We all have obstacles to overcome. We all have run into a mountain that seemed impossible to climb. We’ve all been hurt, some of us cut to the very core with heartache or hardship or setbacks (or all the above). For a long time I had no idea how to climb over the mountain in my own life. Recovery and healing seemed too distant, too difficult to harness and reach. Yet it seems once I stopped focusing on trying to heal… once I stopped forcing an absent strength to appear… I could start to move forward towards healing. Once I redirected my emotion into another passion I was able to push myself to truly discover who I am and what I am capable of.

My redirected passion has been running. I’ve always been a runner, but since my life changed drastically in 2007, I took on running with more of a vengeance. Four marathons and countless half marathons and training runs later, I realize that pushing myself in this capacity has allowed me to gain emotional strength. As I push my body, making my quads burn, my heart rate fly and my feet ache, I not only increase my capacity for mileage, I increase my capacity for love and my endurance of spirit.  Focusing on something outside the suffering in my life (much like Celie focused on her business to support herself) has taught me enough about myself that I can heal from that very pain.

It is truly humbling the way God speaks to us… the lessons he uses to teach us and the ways he heals us. There is no more burning bush. There are just gentle lessons that can only reach us when we are humbly open to seeing love all around us. The title “The Color Purple” references a theme of the story articulated in a conversation Celie has with her friend Shug. Celie has tried so hard to see God before, to heal and understand her plight, that she’s never actually noticed God. As Celie laments her state of utter despair, she glances out to a nearby field and among fields of brown she sees a flowering plant of bright purple. She says, “Well, us talk and talk about God, but I’m still adrift. Trying to chase that old white man out of my head. I been so busy thinking bout him I never truly notice nothing God make. Not a blade of corn, not the color purple…”

 Which leads to a conversation between Celie and her friend… 

Shug: More than anything God love admiration.
Celie: You saying God is vain?
Shug: No, not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don’t notice it…

I’m finally able to count my blessings, to feel God has taken my sufferings and allowed me to use them to better myself – to become a strong runner, a confident woman. All because I finally opened my eyes to see the color purple all around.

And the only cure is more trail running.

You thought cowbell? Nay.

GAH, I’m obsessed. I’ve accomplished approximately 30 minutes of “real” work today at the office. BUT I’ve accomplished the hell out of “fake” work. What I like to call “homing from work” or what most bosses would call “wasting company time.”

Semantics.

Judge my productivity for yourself:

• joined GUTS – the georgia ultrarunning and trailrunning society.
• added 3 trail races to my event calendar.
• emailed my boyfriend no less than 5 times regarding various and sundry ultra and trail related topics.
• read a few trail running blogs – somewhere in the vicinity of a lot… i’ll admit it was more than 2 but definitely less than 50.
• made a list of gear to try out for the next trail training cycle.
• researched volunteering for the Pinhoti 100 in November. intriguing – it’s like putting on trail magic for thru-hikers… but for trail runners!
• brainstormed the idea of actually running (as opposed to thru-hiking) the PCT someday.
• picked out (but not yet ordered) a new pair of Vasque trail runners.
• cursed society for building thoroughfares with cement rather than singletrack trail. damn road running.
• watched dmb’s new video for You and Me (hey… my obsessions are not ALL related to running).

I’m stupid obsessed. Seriously. I think my co-worker hates me. He knows I don’t have this much work to do on the internet. Also, I think he’s on to my game of quickly clicking on Quickbooks to pretend I’m working every time he walks by my desk. Good thing he’s my brother. He gives me lip, I buy him a 6 pack of 420 and we’re good.

Also… I am lamenting the loss of my camera charger. Hence the boring lack of picture-posting to the blog as of late. I think my cat ate it… since she was probably still hungry after she chewed up my apartment lease renewal. Argh.

Back to invoicing, organizing and copy-writing. Juuuust after I research the Cheaha 50k…

There were 50 kilometers in the Stump Jump trail ultramarathon that took place on Signal Mountain outside Chattanooga, TN.

There was intimidation. We’re talking quadriceps cut enough to pierce my lungs. Bodies unlike my own… of people who could really claim to be ultramarathoners.

There was a morning start line, ambushed by nerves and the idea that I wouldn’t be done running until well after lunch time.

There were yellow jackets. Visciously reminding me I was on their terrain. Approximately 5 times in as many minutes.  

There was misdirection. Running an extra mile on the wrong path may not seem like much – except when it tops an already 31 mile day.

There were roots. Laughing as my toes (quickly followed by knee, butt, wrist, face) made contact.

But oh… oh… there was magnificence. In its finest, truest form.

There was perfect running weather. Low 50s to start, barely climbing to 68 by 3pm. There was the bluest of blue skies one could ever imagine. There was a gentle breeze that just kinda floated along in a unhurried, yet determined manner. There was the Tennessee River Valley and its beautiful views. Ridgeline running is a gift from God – to your left is hewn mountainside rock, to your right, sheer drops that mask as gentle, lush green, falling down to sparkling river.

There was me – actually pacing myself for once. Holding back rabbit feet over a gnarly first 6-8 miles of ascents and descents that would have thrashed the ignorant pair of legs.

There were the nicest, most genuine volunteers/aid station workers I’ve ever experienced in any event I’ve ever participated in. I’m talking every high school CC meet, every road or multisport race over 16 years, every collegiate rowing event, even every race I worked while with the race management company. The aid stations were phenomenal. Every single person was so nice, so giving, so generous, so fun and EXCITED to be there, so focused on getting all of us across the finish line, from the beginning on. I will make it a point to run other Rock/Creek races. I can’t say enough good things about them.

There was the coolest community of athletes I’ve ever been associated with. There must be something about people who “ultra” – they’re competitive and tough and freakin tenacious as hell, yet chill, down to earth, friendly, and genuinely interesting folks. I would have liked to sit around a keg and a bonfire with all 300 of the participants and just listen to them tell stories.

There was a near perfect race day, that ended with me and the best running partner someone could ask for crossing the finish line as ultramarathoners. Holy crap – we did it. Which means of course, that we’ll have to do it again.

Our first 50k played out like a storybook. There were definitely ups and downs and it was not perfect but, all things considered, pretty damn awesome. I actually ended the race feeling fresh – I only felt toasted for approximately 10 minutes somewhere between mile 28-30. We didn’t run very fast, finished the course in 7:34 and about 2/3 back in a pack of runners whose times range from 4.5 – 8.5 hrs. The terrain was TOUGH (hence my slooow time. everyone walks. you HAVE to walk certain parts) but really fulfilling and enjoyable. Back when we went the wrong way on the race course (putting our mindless faith in those in front of us), it not only caused us to lose about 15 minutes of time getting back on course, but we hit a bottleneck because of it. On singletrack, that meant we could barely run over a really easy stretch of course… so we lost probably another 15 minutes of time as we were forced to walk on a trail brimming with legs. So without using additional energy we would have easily cut our time by about 30 minutes just avoiding mishaps. I feel like that’s impressive based on my expectations for the race. Now that I know what to expect and can plan smarter, I can’t wait to see what kind of times I can deliver on my next one.

That’s right… next one. I think I’ve found my calling – a true love. Long distance trail running is more beautiful and easier on my body (save my klutziness around rocks/roots and the like) than road marathons. The Stump Jump 50k was my favorite event I have ever done – from the course, to organization and execution, to aid stations and support, to swag and the vendor presence (Vasque is not only my favorite trail shoe, but their people are killer). Hood to Coast – the 197 mile relay from Mt Hood to the coast of Oregon – is the only event that even comes close to topping this weekend’s experience.

Oh yes, there will be more. I can’t believe it. But I can’t wait.

 

“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted.
It ministers to our education, to the development of
such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility.

All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently,
builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls,
and makes us more tender and charitable,
more worthy to be called the children of God.”

…Orson F. Whitney

 

 

Still hanging in the balance of anxiety and extreme excitement for this weekend’s endeavor.

Naomi and I have admitted to each other multiple times that we have no idea what we’ve gotten ourselves into. Can we do this? There was a time I was told I couldn’t run 2 miles. Now I run marathons. There was a time I was told I would never make it as a varsity rower… only to help lead my collegiate team for 2.5 more years.

So maybe not if, but why? But I imagine there are no real answers as to why we attempt such things. Definitely no logic. Only lots of heart.

For us runners, the question of “why” is pretty moot. Not because it may not be interesting, or important, from a certain point of view, but because we’ve left the question of the meaning of running behind. After all the questions have been asked, and all the answers given, in spite of the disagreement on essences, physiology, rationales, training strategies, trail running, road racing, i-pod wearing, mid-foot striking, turnover cadences, arm carriages, Jack Daniels, Arthur Lydiard, 20 miles a week or 100, 5k or the 50k, whether it’s really the Miles of Trials or the Trial of Miles, after all the words have been spoken and keyboards have been pounded, meanings given and ideologies subverted… After all this, we runners bend down and tighten the laces, open the door, brace for the cold and are renewed: another godawful, glorious, and meaningless 8 miler. Answer enough.
-Jeff Edmonds (Rock/Creek Race Team)

At the very least, we’re in it together. And we can enjoy the journey.

View from aid station - Stump/Jump, Chattanooga TN