National Day of Running??? WHAT?!?

Today is National Running Day! I only became aware of this outstanding celebration yesterday, but darn tootin' I'm taking part.  Partly because I have a run scheduled for today anyway, but also because I love the idea of celebrating running!  You know why I adore running? Just in case you don't, I'm gonna tell you.

I love the freedom of it.  As in, it's cheap.  Equipment is minimal - you get yourself a good solid pair of running shoes, and you're set.  The rest - the iPod, the watch, the fuel belts - are add-ons.  You don't have to have them. 

Setting out for an early morning run

I love the solitary aspect.  Yes, I'm a people person most of the time.  That's how come I crave alone time.  For the majority of the day, I am busy cramming my thoughts into other people's heads and trying to process the myriad little voices that are fighting to enter my own head.  (Although, to be fair, those little voices share a basic unifying thought: "MOM!" Apparently, just saying that one. singular. word. over and over is entertainment enough.) 

I love the sense of accomplishment I get from a long run.  I enjoy my TurboFire, my P90X, my HipHop Abs, and my QiDANCE...but the feeling after a long run is just...separate. Because just last year, right around this time, I could barely eke out 20 minutes.  Running is a measurable accomplishment, a way for me to say, again, that my body is capable of amazing things.

My first race medal

I love running for the sense of peace I receive during a long run.  And by long run, I mean longer than an hour and preferably longer than two. It takes me that first hour to find my place, my zen, my stride.  After that, the freedom and the solidarity combine and my world takes on a rosier hue.  Cars may pass; their sounds are muted.  The sun can shine; the rain can fall; the wind can blow...everything just adds to the moment.  For me, running is the only workout I have found that offers this sense of quiet, this sense of relaxation during maximum effort.  I think more clearly; problems that plague me before my feet hit the asphalt suddenly sort themselves out and seem small. 



Finishing my first marathon

I love the sense of community among runners.  Experienced runners are consistently enthusiastic about helping beginners; elite runners rejoice in the amateur runners' race times.  Picture a dog finding another dog.  For them, that moment is ALWAYS AMAZING.  In their world of humans, they have discovered another canine at last.  Runners are the same way.  Don't believe me? Attend any race, walk into any runner's store, and find someone who's been running for years.  Tell them you're new to the game and ask advice...and be prepared to chat for a good length of time. 

I love that I can share it with my kids.  Sure, the runs will be shorter and slower.  But someday, I imagine that we will be completing 5k's, 10k's, half marathons, and full marathons together.  My daughter especially has a natural runner's gait and a wonderful speed.  I am already envious of her potential as a runner, as I am of the slow-and-steady variety. 

Take this National Day of Running as a sign, a hint, a reason...and lace up! Step out! Go RUNNING!  Clear your head; find your zen; feel that pride.  All you've gotta do is put on your shoes and GO.

I Ran for the Red

Hey, did you know I've been training for a marathon? I know I haven't talked about it much, but I've done some training here and there over the past few months...

Yay!

So, Saturday was the much anticipated expo and packet pickup day.  After browsing the expos at the Rock N Roll Half and VIA, I was all set to stock up on Gu and possibly a new headband or tshirt with a catchy slogan (previous purchases include "will run for margaritas" and "will run for beer." I have a theme.).  Alas, twas not to be.  Apparently, Run for the Red is but a teeny blip on the expo radar and not a drop of Gu could be found.  I did leave, however, with a brand spanking new tech shirt (free) and a bag full of tourism brochures for Stroudsburg.  Oh - and two (count 'em!) notepads from the state representative.  On to my runner's haven, Aardvark!

Aardvark Sports Shop is my absolute fave place to shop for running gear.  Runners work there and actually know what they're talking about as they fit you for shoes and answer your questions.  (Unlike walking into Lady Foot Locker and explaining I was in need of new running shoes, whereupon I was led to the "prettiest pair.")  I grabbed my Gu, some Chomps, and chatted with the cashier who had already run Run for the Red and was running it again the next day.  She warned me not to go all out in the beginning on the downhill because there'd be plenty of uphill at the end.  I soaked it all in (and promptly forgot it once the race started, but we'll get to that in a bit), grabbed my stash, and headed home to ready the house for the post-race celebration.

Race day! It was actually race day!  Up at 5 am (actually before, because I was excited/nervous/in need of bladder emptying) to get myself and the M&M Clan out the door by 6:30 am.  Being the organized gal that I am, everything had been laid out the night before, so we nearly got out the door on time.  (I never fully expect us to leave when we plan to; this is why we usually give ourselves a 30-minute "oh my God we have four kids" window.)  I forced down some oatmeal and green tea and packed a cooler of snacks for the rest of the Clan and a bag of gear for myself.  Off we went, some of us jittery and others sleepy.

Our course of action was a drop off and immediate departure for the fam, with nary a monkey foot leaving the van.  I geared up, posed for pictures, stole last-minute hugs and kisses and waved good-bye as they chugged on to the first spectator spot.  Suddenly, I was alone with 30 minutes to spare...I had to pee.

Luckily, the crowd at the starting line was minimal.  This was not the chaos I was used to from previous races, but that suited me just fine.  I was able to use the portapotties TWICE before I meandered over to the starting line just behind the 4:40 pace group.  I was feeling spry and thought I would at least start out with a faster group.  To help me chillax, I listened to the Fab Four until start time and marvelled at the wide range of runners.

Two things that continuously amaze me are the diversity and the community of runners.  You may picture marathon runners as incredibly sinewy and lean, and some of them are.  But they (WE!) are a much more diverse group than most would imagine.  There was not a "type" anywhere yesterday...Cultures, races, shapes, sizes, levels of fitness - everyone was represented.  And everyone was accepted with enthusiasm.  Runners are one of the most welcoming and enthusiastic groups I have ever seen.  When we find each other, we are like dogs spotting other dogs.  I swear, I may have even waggled my rear at times.  Because no one other than a fellow runner will truly understand what it means and why we're NOT crazy to do what we do.  Also, we want to convert everyone we meet.  If we could only pause long enough in our weekend runs to knock on a few doors, we'd be eerily similar to certain religious sects.

So it was a good feeling there at the starting line.  There is always the jumbled mess at the beginning when everyone is fresh, but by mile two we began to separate.  I kept in pace with the 4:40 crowd and began taking my intervals somewhere between miles 2 and 3.  The first hour went by as it always does, in a haze of settling in to my stride and my breathing and gaining control of my thoughts (today they went something along the lines of "Holy FUCK! What did I sign up for?!?).  I always find my strength and my zen around the second hour and this day was no different.  I turned up my volume (one luxury of racing: you don't have to listen for vehicles) and zoned out, forgetting the other runners and focusing instead on me. 

That's a lie.  I didn't eliminate them from my thoughts.  That 4:40 pace sign was taunting me endlessly, bobbing up and down in its irritating, singsongy way.  I pushed harder.  I totally forgot the advice of Wise Aardvark Lady and took full advantage of the downhill and the shade and the slight coolness of the morning.  That's a partial lie, too.  I didn't forget; I ignored.  This led to a sweaty stripping down while I made use of PortaPotty stop 2.  Which in turn led to me falling far behind the pace group and pushing even harder to catch up and PASS them.  I felt fantastic.

By the time I saw the Clan at the first spectator spot, right around mile 9, I was fully in my stride.  I untied my excess clothing from my fuel belt and threw it at them as they cheered me on.  I was on pace to not only make my goal of five hours, but to come in significantly sooner.  I had no time to stop (though I did end up pausing for a kiss).  Once again, I fell into zen mode, rousing out every 30 to 45 minutes to fuel up with Gu and water.  I passed the halfway point fourteen minutes under my previous half marathon time and ran faster.  Another reunion with fam at mile 16 perked me up again...and then came the heat.

Runners began dropping like flies.  People I hadn't seen since the starting line were suddenly on the side of the road clutching bellies, removing shoes, and opting for the ambulance ride.  I saw runners falling and admitting defeat at every mile.  This was not something I had expected.  And it made the mental portion of the race that much more difficult.  Because when everyone around you is quitting, it makes quitting seem like an okay thing to do.  Even if your body is willing to keep going. 

My legs felt strong.  My cardio was on target.  But that heat...that heat.  I had not trained in heat.  I trained all winter long in layers, and in the spring when the mornings stayed cool.  Technically, it's still spring.  But yesterday felt like the dog days of summer, especially with 18 miles logged.  At points I felt viciously jealous of those caving to the sun and the road; they were done.  I was barely trudging along, focusing entirely on my "one more minute" strategy to get me through each interval.  I shifted from counting singular miles to grouping them by fives, when I knew they would be posting on Facebook for all to see.  People would know if I stopped; people would know if I failed.  I would know.  My new mantras included "failure is NOT an option" and "failure is not in my vocabulary."  Not original or thought provoking, but they worked.  I plugged on, letting my arms drop.

But that HEAT.  It was unbearable.  I pictured blue waters, cool swimming pools, even my ice bath.  I longed for my ice bath.  I grew irritable that the water stations had no cold offerings.  I didn't want  warm Gatorade!  I wanted ICE COLD WATER.  It was my only clear thought.  And then...

The heavens parted.  A choir of angels began to sing.  And if I'd had a tear to shed, I would have cried.  I saw the most beautiful handwritten sign on the side of a cooler I had ever seen: "ICE."  I dove in with two hands, splashing one clump into an outstretched cup of water and sending the rest into the front of my sports bra.  Relief.  From that point on, we were strictly in residential areas and apparently, the most wonderful people on the face of the planet live right on the Run for the Red route.  They sprayed us down with icy garden hoses, offered us plastic cups full of ice and cool water, all the while cheering us on.  I opened my arms wide and blessed their dear, sweet little souls.  Children squirted us with water guns and supersoakers - all of it FREEZING.  Bliss.  Pure bliss.  I gathered my remaining energy and realized I was in the home stretch now - only three more miles to go.

The closer I got to the finish line, the more finishers I saw walking back to their cars and to restaurants along Main Street.  Once again, I was jealous: not only were they done, they were done faster.  I pushed harder.  Upon entering the school grounds, I heard my big sister yelling "Go, BEAR!"  I looked up to see her and my daughter waving from the top of the bleachers.  I could not walk now...I had to finish running.  No more intervals.

I hit the track and knew it was less than a full lap.  I have never wanted to stop moving so badly in my life.  I desperately needed to walk, to just stand still...and then Crazy Train started playing.  It was my son's theme song all wrestling season, and I was reminded of his tenacity even when we all knew he wanted to give up.  I was reminded of our many talks about following through to reach goals, about not giving in or giving up...and all the moments I watched his jaw set and his eyes narrow...and I started sprinting for the finish line.  I knew I was already over five hours, but not by much.  I could still make this a goal reached.

I crossed the finish line at 5:02:44.  (Upon checking my results, my official chip time was 5:01:04.  I'll take it.)  I grabbed up my precious medal and stumbled into the open arms of Hubby, who literally swept me off my feet in the best hug EVER. 

I did it.  "Decide.  Commit.  Succeed."  That is the Beachbody slogan I see at the end of every TurboFire, ChaLEAN Extreme, and P90X workout I have ever done.  And though a simple formula, it works.  I am proof.  And now I have a marathon PR...which I will beat in the VIA this September.  I just need to start training.

Easy Street

After my first QiDANCE master class

Rest week, shmest week.  My QiDANCE DVD came in the mail today and I had to get my groove on.  I just about have the first song down, hip swivels and all.  This is probably where not having a full length mirror comes in a little handy; I can imagine I look just as sexy as I feel.  And after more than a week of jammin' out to the CD, the moves are coming pretty naturally with the music.  I have about a month left before the first class and I plan on bein' readier than ready. 

Strolling

Hey there, sheep.

Aside from my new dancing obsession, I'm taking it slow and easy (aside from a Tabat Boot Camp class on Monday, but I kept it within range).  I actually took an entire day off yesterday, leaving me feeling at loose ends and as though I was forgetting something all day.  Today, the babe and I strolled leisurely along part of my regular running route, stopping for some photos and to say hello to the sheep.  And then, of course, my QiDANCE extravaganza. 

And all the while, several times a day and sometimes several times an hour, that marathon is racing around the back of my mind.  I have created and recreated a mental checklist for the day prior and the morning of.  Both involve the camera, of course.  And the afternoon after involves Skinny Girl cocktails (after I replenish a few calories) and friends and family to celebrate.  I keep contemplating a tiara but try to convince myself that my new medal will suffice.  What I haven't been concentrating on is the actual running of the race.

Along my route

I've been training for approximately seven months with this marathon in mind.  I don't skip training and I don't quit when I feel tired.  I eeked out some runs and blasted through others.  Most importantly, I have finished each and every one.  (Well, except for the one that was interrupted by some nasty shin pain...but I made that up the next week.)  I have put my time in.  This body is ready.  The race is not the hard part; the hard part is over.  I finished seven months of the hard part.  I know I can do five hours (or less!) of the easy part. 

A view on each run

A friend and fellow runner just reminded me that I will only get one first marathon, and I don't intend to waste it worrying.  I want to relish every moment (and I will relay many, so consider yourself warned) and keep the day as special as it ought to be.  This is just the public culmination of the days, weeks, and months I've spent preparing.  But, hey...we all know I love a good public spectacle involving myself.  And the fact that I get a medal at the end of it just makes it that much better.

Just Your Typical Prototype

There comes a point in every distance run when I get emotional.  (I know some are surprised by this, but yes...even I have actual emotions.)  I never know exactly when it's going to happen and most times, I forget it's going to until it does.  And there it is - that little lump in my throat, moisture in my eyes (it doesn't sting, so I know it's more than sweat), a tightness in my chest (that is not from shortness of breath - I am a freakin' cardio queen now).  Part of it is simply the release that running brings me, a clarity of mind and simple joy in BEING.  When I take a step back and think on it, I could probably pinpoint when it will happen.  Any time during my second hour.  At a point along my route when I am more surrounded by nature and less by traffic.  When a really great song opens up on my ipod.  It may happen at different points and on different routes, but the feeling is always the same.  It is not only a gut reaction to my surroundings or the physicality of the moment.  It is the same feeling I get when I watch my daughter execute a perfect bar routine; when my son runs the football; when the babe has a new word to use every day.  It's pride.  Just this time, it's in myself.

That's right.  Proud of ME.  A year ago, I had not yet decided to run that half marathon.  I was in the midst of my first round of TurboFire and eating at the diner down the street three to four times a week.  I did not view myself as an athlete and my only concern was working my way from a size 10 to a size 8 and shedding the remaining baby weight.  Seriously - LOOK AT ME NOW.  I have no doubts about running that full marathon in two weeks.  My legs are itchin' for it.  I run because I LOVE it.  I add weighted gloves to every TurboFire workout and I lift with P90X.  I worked out live with Shaun T.  I drink Shakeology every single day and am going organic.  When I eat at the diner, I order things broiled, fresh, and healthy.  It all came down to a single decision.  Did I want to enjoy my life or regret it?

I've been called obsessed, told it's just a phase, that I've lost too much weight.  People feel they have the right to judge my lifestyle, I suppose, because I am so public about it.  Guess what?  I'm open with my choices because I want everyone to share them.  I actually want others to experience the fabulousness I have found.  And there is NO REASON that can't happen.  I am the same as you.  There is nothing in me that you cannot find within yourself.

I will not judge you for your shape, your weight, your size, your ability.  I will judge you for your inactivity and your conscious decisions to live an unhealthy life. I will judge you for clinging to a lifestyle that will shorten your time with those you love. When you run out of breath walking up the stairs or playing with your children - it's time to change things.  Stop telling me to "eat a cheeseburger" or that "big is beautiful."  You can love yourself as you are - but you need to love yourself enough to change. 

Your first step is simply making a commitment.  Walk.  Stretch.  Drink more water.  You don't have to jump into the deep end of the pool.  Not everyone has to run marathons or participate in obstacle races.  But everyone does need to fuel their bodies and shake them out now and again.  This isn't a debate anymore.  It isn't about discrimination.  It's about HEALTH.  It's about YOUR LIFE.  Who wants to live it on the sidelines?  And how do you want your children to grow up?

Obesity is on the rise.  We all know it.  We all see it.  Some of us are doing something about it.  I don't only want to make myself fit.  I want my family to be fit.  I want my friends to be fit.  I want friends of friends to be fit.  I didn't sign on to be a Beachbody coach just to get discounts or just to make a profit.  I did it because these programs opened my eyes to a whole new world of possiblities and fitness levels I never imagined I could reach.  In less than a year, I became an athlete.  I no longer dabble in fitness; it is now what I do and who I am.  And it is my goal to make that happen for you, too.  If you're reading this now, you've thought about it.  Maybe you've already made that change.  Maybe now you're feeling defensive because I've called you out.  I don't care.  What I do care about is that you get off your ass and stop making excuses. 

We aren't so different, you and I.  I used to make excuses for the food I ate and how I spent my time.  And then one day, I just had enough.  I was done being weak.  I was done with losing my breath, watching my kids play instead of playing with them, telling my kids to do their best while I did nothing. 

When your day comes, and you're ready to make that step, be sure to let me know.  You've never had a bigger or more relentless cheerleader than this gal right here.  I will annoy the living piss out of you when you try to explain why you're backsliding.  I will get in your face and refuse to accept whatever lameass excuse you're offering. 

You can thank me a year from now.

Feel Your Boobies (Or Her Boobies)

We all love a good rack, don’t we?  Whether you’re the owner or the purveyor, the beauty of the breast is quite apparent.  We love the girls, the twins, the ta-tas, the melons.  That is why each year on Mother’s Day, as a family, we don our pink and move our feet to show our love for the breasts.  It has become a family tradition to pack our bags and head to Philadelphia for the Susan G. Komen Mother’s Day 5k and celebrate the beauty and the health of the boobies. 

It's all about the love!

So, yes.  I do love fitness for fitness' sake.  But I love incorporating it into family activities and teachable moments for the smaller folk in our Clan, too. Quite literally, from dawn till dusk, we are moving as a unit that day and even the boys sport some pink.  In the past, the littler legs have demanded a "walking race," but this year, they have stated it's time to run!  It warms their mama's fitness-lovin' heart to hear those sweet words, but my expectations for actual running time are realistic.  As in, I am sure there will be excitement for the first three minutes followed by many more minutes of walking and perhaps asking to be carried (and that's just Hubby).

Checking in

Hotel Pool Magic!

But still!  It's a truly great family time every year.  We head into Philly the night before the race to check in and wander about, have a relaxing dinner, and enjoy the hotel pool.  (Side note: always book a hotel with a pool.  It is the most fun we have everywhere we go, though the reason still eludes me.  And thank you to my big sister for making me aware of the magic of the hotel pool.)  Race day begins early, with much rubbing of the eyes and asking why it is still dark outside (the sun is lazy!).  But by the time we hit the streets with our bib numbers and our pink, it's all about the fun!

The Race for the Cure

Music, free (healthy!) food and water, chances to shop pre-race, balloons...It's a smorgasboard of activity and smiling faces.  The walk itself is a lesson in gratitude as survivors walk or run alongside us.  And the bonding for us as a family is tremendous.  We have our tradition, our commitment to a Fit Life, our belief in the cause.  It all works.  And the day is good.

Best way to spend Mom's Day

Fight Like A Girl!

We are Team M&M.  We will run.  We will walk.  We will laugh.  We will wear our pink proudly and with honor.  And you?  You can join us!  Sign up with our team and run or walk with our crazy family!  If you can't make the race, donate and make our fundraising a success!  I've written about the strength of women before; the women we're walking for are some of the strongest women in the world.  This disease does not discriminate; we could be walking for your mother, your sister, your wife...or you.  Every dollar makes a difference.  Which is why I am choosing to donate 10% of all Beachbody sales between now and Mother's Day to our team fundraiser.  You want to get fit (otherwise you wouldn't be reading).  Here's your chance to get off your keister and be a good Samaritan at the same time. 

Mother's Day 2011

Look to your right...See all those links over there?  They take you right to my site.  There's also a new link to our fundraising page.  If you've ever found inspiration here, if you've ever found motivation here...throw a couple bucks into the pot.  And then feel your boobies.  Or your wife's or girlfriend's boobies.  Or tell a lovely lady that you've just made a donation and ask if you can feel her boobies.  See?  Giving is a wonderful thing.  Give freely so you can feel freely.

Imitation...

They may not read my blog, check my numbers on the scale, or scrutinize this month's measurements, but there are four pairs of eyes following my progress and keeping track of my commitment more consistently than anyone else.  See that guy on the far left?  He comments on my "pumps" pretty frequently.  That one in the middle?  I am setting an example for her as a woman.  See the tallest one all the way to the right?  We talk running on a regular basis.  And that little guy...well, we're certain that one's a future football player/wrestler like his big brother.  They have all witnessed countless hours of me kicking, punching, and shaking my booty through TurboFire and HipHop Abs.  They even saw me struggling through a few sessions of P90X (long ago - I'm not struggling any longer ;))  And they always want to join in.  They want pumps, too, after all.  So, being the role model and incredibly fabulous mama that I am, I ordered "Tony and the Kids" for them.  Our deal is if they retain interest and do it often, they can also get Shaun T's DVD.  Just like Mom and Dad!

Last night we popped it in and those lil' sweat monkeys went right to work lunging, jumping, and stretching.  They did crunchy frogs, yoga poses, and wacky jacks (again, just like Mom and Dad!) right along with Tony, laughing the whole time (not always so much like Mom and Dad...).  I cannot express my joy at their joy.  Even the Rooster followed suit, reaching for the stars and then to the floor (even when the older three moved on to new moves).  It was half an hour of fun and fitness, and they were mighty proud of completing a workout with the great Tony Horton.  As they flexed for the camera and high-fived all the way around, commenting on the rough workout they'd just completed and wiping imaginary sweat from their brows, they made plans to do it again later in the week.  You know, to get in shape...like Mom and Dad...It's the sincerest form of flattery...

Self Motivation

Motivation used to sound like a curse to me, just with more than the usual four letters.  It was the missing ingredient, the missing link, the missing puzzle piece in any program that I engaged in.  I would see an infomercial, read an article or book and become hellbent on getting in shape...for about a week.  Then I would get tired, or busy, or bored...and quit.  And feel like a failure.
So...how do I stay motivated now? There are three main ways and then lots of smaller ones.  The "small" ones aren't small, really.  They just don't push me quite as hard when I'm really not feeling the urge to sweat.  I want to be fit for my family, my health, my quality of life.  And those are big reasons.  But they don't always get LazyMe moving. 
LazyMe is silenced more by knowing how I will feel when I'm done.  When I feel like I just went from Peter Parker to Spiderman, muscles inflated and abs defined.  When I just ran 10 miles instead of watching 10 hours of television.  When I know I DID SOMETHING with my day instead of wasting moments of my life.  There's one way.
The second way is newer and grounded in my new business as a Beachbody Coach.  Who's gonna buy in to the fabulous changes these programs can bring if I don't show them what it did for me?  I need to be a product of the product, which has the outstanding side effects of feeling and looking incredible. (You see how everything starts cycyling here? It's a lifestyle, not just an hour out of your day.)
The third and biggest way I stay motivated is TRAINING FOR AN EVENT.  This year is a big event year for me.  I am running three marathons, competing in my first Spartan race, and signing up for various 5k's when timing and finances permit.  My pride will not allow me to enter into an event and not complete it.  I am not gonna lie; I want BRAGGING RIGHTS.  I want to wear my free tshirts, post sweaty/muddy/action shots up on Facebook and have people say, "Congrats! You rock!" It feels pretty good.  After all, we don't get gold stars or Student of the Month awards anymore.  But we CAN get MEDALS.  I like prizes.  I like shiny things.  Events have SO MANY THINGS I WANT! 
So, when motivation seems MIA, I remind myself that Run For the Red is only four months away.  Spartan is only six months away.  And I cannot fail.