Exploring the Island

On the weekend of Oct. 23, I took my first trip to Bald Head Island, NC for a friend's wedding. Even though it has a reputation as an exclusive locale, I had always heard great things and was excited to see it for myself. As soon as I boarded the tram to our house, I was struck by how beautiful and truly untouched the island was. It was late at night and our tram entered a tunnel of foliage, created by the mature trees of the island. Even in the dark, it was amazing.

The next morning, I knew immediately that I had to explore the island on foot. I made up my course using the map of the island at the house, pulled on my Brooks and set out. My first objective was to find the ocean and, from there, wander the trails across the island.

When all was said and done, I ran close to 7 miles. I found the ocean after running along the coast for a while, searching for beach access, then saw a few deer and got turned around close to home. But the views were amazing and I couldn't have picked a better run to help get me back to the love of running. These photos don't do the island justice, but I definitely recommend exploring it if you ever get the chance! :) (More photos on my Flickr account.)

Summer in North Carolina

No matter where I go in this life, I will never forget summer time in North Carolina, much the same way as those from the north will never forget the winters there. There are so many things to remember from my childhood, all the small cues that will, in twenty years or more, instantly transport me back to those days spent running and playing in the sunshine; climbing trees and hiking through the woods to the creek behind my parents’ house. These adventures, so normal then, appear to be almost a fantasy to me now when I think back on them. How did I never seem to get sunburned or covered in ticks from our excursions into the woods? It was truly a magical time when viewed from the eyes of a 25 year old just getting started in the “real” world.

But one of the things I will remember most strongly about summertime in the Tarheel state will not come from the years I spent playing beneath the mature oaks and long-leaf pines in my parents’ yard. It will instead come from the early years of my adulthood, the ten years or so spanning my growth from a teenager to where, and who, I am now. This memory will be of running in the late afternoons, gambling on the remaining daylight in an attempt to log those few miles right when the day reaches its coolest temperatures.

Trotting along the side of a treeless road (there never seemed to be tree cover when I needed it), the sun still baking the ground in the early evening. As each foot scuffs the pavement, I can feel that the skin on my bare legs and arms is tight from exposure to the sun, dry and dusty, even at the height of southern humidity. I continue on, one foot in front of the other, smelling the hot asphalt and hearing the cicadas singing from the bushes and trees across the fields. It’s not summer until the cicadas sing.

Yesterday, I revisited every summer of my life from 14 years old until now; running along these roads, hearing the insects humming and feeling the sun and humidity working together to intensify the heat. I trot on at my usual pace, although it feels slower, determined to finish my five miles and experiencing being both dry and sticky all at once. The world appears to be still, resting in the heat of the day, waiting for the cooler night to fall. Even the passing cars seem to be quieter, moving slower in this southern season. I smile to myself as I round the third mile, reminiscing summer mornings when my cross country team would meet to train before the day got too hot and too busy. The same cicadas sang then, the same insects buzzed in the tall grass, the same hot and sticky feeling swept over me as I ran along.

I finished my five-miler yesterday, twice as tired from the sun and heat as usual. No sooner had my pace slowed to a walk as the sweat began to pour, running down my arms and legs and dripping from my hair and nose. (My body never seems to truly sweat until after the work out, which may be its own blessing.) I walked the circle of my cul-de-sac six times before my body had cooled down enough to call it a day then proceeded to continue the circle in my air-conditioned home.

Yesterday was a summer run, just like every other summer run I’d traveled in the past, and just like every one that I’ll run in the future.

Rant o'the Month

WARNING: There is a ranting session ahead. If you do not feel like reading the diary of an angry runner, please proceed no further. The blog will be updated with happier thoughts again shortly. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

Ladies and gentlemen, just because there is a ditch beside the road does not mean I want to be in it. Nor any other runner, for that matter. To the woman who literally ran me off the road with her red Toyota RAV4 the other night: when there is a runner on the shoulder of the road, it is best practice NOT to veer toward the runner, therefore forcing them to jump from the road into the overgrown ditch along side it.

That being said, I would also like to say THANK YOU to all of the alert and considerate drivers on the road, who (when it’s safe and possible) give a wide berth to runners and cyclists. For this runner, words cannot express the appreciation I feel when a car veers out enough so the wind from their vehicle doesn't blow me over (this may not happen to all runners). I try to always wave and say "thank you" out loud to all cars and trucks who give me some room. There is nothing scarier than seeing a car speeding toward you (in the case of the young boy who almost ran off the road into me, I believe he was adjusting his radio or something that required him to look down) or feeling a car go by and realize just how close they were to you.

End rant. Thank you for listening!

Good Runs = Always Needed

Sometimes, when running morale and overall motivation is low, you just need a good run.

Take tonight for instance. It's Monday and I haven't run since the (now infamous) 10-miler last Tuesday. That run, although exciting to have finished strong, was not what you would consider a "good" run. At no point during that run did I find a comfortable pace nor feel like I wasn't fighting for each step. At mile 4 my knee started to tweak (not sure what else to call it) and I ended up with a popping and stiff hip for the rest of the week because of compensating for it. All-in-all, not my best run.

Which leads us to today.

I could have gotten in a run on Saturday or Sunday, but I used Mother's Day weekend as an excuse not to. I was home at my parents' house, doing things with them, and it was very easy to put off running with so much else going on. So tonight I knew I had to get back on schedule and as the time drew nearer to go, started to dread it. I even told a friend earlier today that I needed to "re-motivate."

Then I ran and it was amazing!

Unlike the rest of this month, so far, today was unseasonably cool (around the high-60s) and a little overcast (albeit not raining). I started out in my usual uphill direction, waiting for the feeling of straining for each step or shortness of breath and it never came! I breezed through 5 miles, running down my favorite dirt path and past the elementary school, waved at other runners and considerate drivers (that blog will be saved for another time). The dirt path is lined with green trees and bushes, honeysuckles and white flowers intertwined along the branches. One long breath in and your lungs fill with that sweet smell of spring and summer. I inhaled again and again, savoring it and the cool air.

I trotted back into my neighborhood faster than I left, smiling, breathing steadily and with no pain.

This was, hands down, the perfect run to provide that "re-motivation" I needed.

Today's run:
5.01 miles at an 8:57 pace (44:59 total)

Last week:
10.01 miles at a 9:28 pace (1:34:49 total)

10 Miles

Ran my longest work out to date in 2010 last night, finished 10 miles in 1:34. Not the fastest run of my life (9:28 pace) but still an accomplishment to mark in my book.

At mile 5.25, "My Girl" by the Temptations played. As always, I thought of my Dad and ran harder. Mile 5 was the fastest mile over the 10.

I run for myself and I run for him. I love you, Dad. Thank you for being my inspiration and my motivation to keep that expectation of ascension alive.

Time for a little yoga, maybe a massage, and some new running shoes!

Constant State of Ascension

Anyone can be a runner, of that I am almost certain (barring any broken bones or debilitating injury, of course). There are so many types of runners in the world, from those embarking on their first few runs to the seasoned athletes, who are well-traveled along their running journey. You see these runners everywhere and at all times of the day, running in the early morning, at lunch, in the evenings, even late at night for some. Driving to work in the morning, sometimes I see a jogger and become wistful for a free morning to trot a few miles, instead of driving the 45 minutes to the office. This yearning returns around midday, as I look out the window, wishing I could just take out and run instead of sit at my desk. (Maybe I will speak to my boss about installing a shower in one of the bathrooms, or maybe not.)

But this thought of everyone being a runner is not new to the world, yet it becomes more pronounced each day as I see and hear of others’ improvements and see my own progression. I’m not going to fib to you and say every run is going to be a high-energy frolic through the miles. On the contrary, you may have more struggles than triumphs. But these are the runs that make you stronger and build that endurance toward the next level (I tell my self this most often as I trudge and curse up the long, slow inclines I always seem to find myself on).

(And to that last point, I swear to you that every run I go on, I start on a freaking hill! I feel like I spend my entire life running up hill, but I just remind myself: it’s strength building, it’s strength building…)

As I was saying though, running is all about progress. John Parker said it best in his novel, Once a Runner, that we all have the expectation of the constant state of ascension (not a direct quote, but the best my memory can do tonight). At the beginning of this season, the beginning of this blog, my goal was to run at least 2 miles in a workout, preferably 3. Now, I’m running a consistent 4-5 miles per workout, but no less than 3 miles. Granted, the improvement comes slowly and there have been some awful runs (such as tonight, when I was attacked by every flying insect known to man), but the point is, there is improvement. All runners who stick with it will experience the same.

Recent Runs

(The constant ebb and flow of work has allowed me to graduate back to a daily runner, up from the previous status of a weekend warrior)

4/2/10 3.58 miles 32:33 (9:04 pace)

4/4/10 3.76 miles 34:08 (9:04 pace)

4/7/10 5.13 miles 44:57 (8:46 pace)

4/11/10 4.52 miles 40:18 (8:54 pace)

4/13/10 5.05 miles 44:23 (8:46 pace)

Gym-watching

What’s your favorite part about a run? The run itself, I mean, not the awesome feeling from the endorphins afterward or the great health results. I’m talking about the select distance your legs and feet take you on a given day.

My favorite part is being so close to the surroundings. I love to look around while I run, taking in all of the details of the road, land, houses, all of the small details you miss when you drive by. The other week, I discovered a little house tucked into the woods off the road, something I would have never seen driving by. You also notice the little inclines and declines on the road or path, and how long they last sometimes.

I have to be honest, with this being my favorite part, it makes me loath running on a treadmill that much more. Don’t get my wrong, I appreciate and respect the treadmill, it helps me continue running when it’s too late to get outside and when the weather is awful. But with the unchanging speed (unless you do it manually) and scenery, running long distances on the ‘mill can get pretty boring (even with the tv right in front of you). So, you have to make sure you set yourself up, before you embark on your mechanized journey.

Make sure you choose a treadmill positioned in an area where you can see as much of the gym as possible, that’s the best way to set yourself up to overcome ‘mill boredom. I prefer to choose one overlooking the weight-lifting area, but not for the reason you’d think! I would like to thank the following people for helping me get through a handful of miles on the treadmill…

I have learned that, of all of the guys and ladies you see in that area, only a few really know what they are doing. For instance, the other day I watched two different guys go about their workouts. One swaggered out to the area dressed head to toe in Under Armor, pulled on his gloves, cracked his neck and went for the curl bar. The other walked up in a t-shirt and shorts, turned his cap backward and hit play on his MP3 player, then picked up a set of free weights and found a bench. (Please note, I am not dissing branded athletic wear, I own my fair share, plus some. Just trying to paint the best picture for you!)

Lifter #1 curled the bar twice, stopped, looked at himself in the mirror then around the gym. Curled the bar again, adjusted, curled a fourth time, looked around and talked to his neighbor. In the course of 10 minutes, he completed six curls and four scans of the gym (including an awkward eye-lock with yours truly on the treadmill). Lifter #2, on the other hand, finished three sets of 15 curls in the same amount of time and moved on to the next exercise. Obviously, #1 did something as he was well built, but definitely did not add to his muscle mass that night. I was able to complete more than a mile in that time.

Another evening, as I embarked on a quick two miles before our weekly ab-wrenching pilates classes (observations on this to come later) I noticed a young woman, not unlike myself, on the leg press. I say not unlike myself, because I am never certain about what I’m doing when on a machine that depends on weight. She walked around the machine for about five minutes, gathering and adding weight to each side until she had reached an amount she was comfortable with. She looked around the gym uncertainly and sat down, positioning her legs on the flat surface of the press. I watched as she flexed and pushed and continued to watch as nothing happened. She looked around again, confused as to what was wrong and, I assume, wondering if anyone had seen. (Again, please note that I am drawing my assumption of her thoughts from my own experience. If I had done this, I would have scanned the gym to see if anyone had seen my apparent lack of knowledge on this machine.) She got up and walked around the machine again, finally stopping in front of the instructions. She read for a minute, then repositioned herself in the seat, reaching for the safety release handle to her left. She flexed again, released the weight and began her exercise. Three presses in, she locked it, got up, removed weight and sat back down to complete her exercise. She got me through a mile and a half.

Finally, I would like to extend a huge thank you to the man in red pants from the other week, stretching against one of the weight machines not far ahead of my treadmill. As he pulled his foot up, touching his toes to the back of his head, I knew I was going to get through a great run that night. I continued to trot along, watching this inhuman man stretching, contorting his body in a way that I (and most women) envied. When he wrapped his leg around his neck, I felt compelled to draw the attention of my treadmill neighbor to him, only to find that she too had been watching in awe for the past 10 minutes. This man, coupled with the man doing extreme, upside-down pull-ups (there are no words), allowed me to complete five glorious miles.

Thank you to all of the gymies out there, who help me to continue at that same constant pace for miles, without succumbing to the boredom of the unchanging surroundings. I hope that, when I endeavor to work out with weights, only curling a few times before looking around uncertainly or get on a machine I have no clue how to work and spend more time figuring out, that I too, can get you through the long minutes on the treadmill.

Baby, it's cold outside!

Have you ever noticed how much darker the night feels during the winter?

I realize this seems like a pretty ridiculous question, we all know that the night is dark. Period. But in the winter, when it's freezing out, the night seems... heavier, darker. I reflected on this notion the other night when I decided to go running at 7:45 pm, long after the sun had set and when temperatures were dipping as low as 27 degrees* outside.

(*I realize this isn't cold to some, but I live in eastern NC and 27 degrees is the type of weather you avoid being out in at all costs!)

I won't lie to you, I paced in front of the kitchen window for half an hour before I rallied myself enough to go upstairs and get dressed for this excursion. My fabulous, never-to-be-worn-in-the-daylight outfit consisted of a pair of running tights, long sleeved dry-fit shirt, gloves, hat, bright lime-green t-shirt and reflective vest. (I live in the country, better to be safe than sorry when running at night!)

After a few futile hops in front of the door to get my blood flowing and a farewell to my cat, I started out on the 10K training assignment for that day.

The first half-mile was a blur as I struggled to adjust to the unlit road and uneven land under my feet and the extreme temperature. But, as I began to warm up, I was able to appreciate my surroundings a little more. At night in the winter, the world is quiet and still; no crickets or frogs sing out, as they do in the summer. I listened to my shoes shuffle along the pavement, looking around at all of the familiar houses in the neighborhood I had entered. I was no longer as aware of the cold as I had been and picked up my pace as I entered the second mile.

The route I followed took me on a loop through the neighborhood and back to my community via a short stretch of unlit country road. This road has a rough, steep shoulder and is covered by an overhang of trees, creating a dark tunnel. Although busy during the day, it saw very little traffic once everyone was home safe and warm. As I was primarily wearing black, with only a reflective vest to alert drivers, I was relieved that I was alone on the road as I continued into the darkness.

But, just my luck, as soon as I reached the part of the road with the absolute worst shoulder, I saw a vehicle swing around the curve ahead of me and saw the lights of a car from behind. Great! Although I was reflective, I knew it wasn't quite enough and had to make a split second decision: slide off onto the shoulder and risk a fall or worse OR sprint like mad to the beginning of the sidewalk 100 meters ahead. Which would you choose?

I ran.

Some 10 odd years ago, I ran track for my high school. I was a mid-distance runner, placing well in the 4x800's and similar races. Sprinting was not my forte. But on this night, I ran hard. It's all about survival, I guess. No longer even noticing the cold, I focused on the end of the sidewalk and pushed forward. It was exhilarating, watching the ever approaching car out of the corner of my eye and mentally calculating the distance to the sidewalk, all the while my breath coming in short, fast gasps. My foot struck the cement of the sidewalk just moments before the car passed on the asphalt a few feet to my right. Whether they saw me or not, I do not know.

The last 200 meters of the run were smooth as I glided into my cul-de-sac and came to a stop in front of my house. My hands immediately locked behind my head as I walked in small circles, trying to catch my breath from a tiny speed work out I had not experienced since high school. It hurt, but it was a good feeling to know I could still do it, at least once.

Day 1 of week 2 in the program
Easy 2.02 miles @ 8:21 pace

And so we begin...

Welcome to 2010! Five days in and everyone is still working diligently to uphold those compulsory resolutions that we all seem to make this time of year. Each year you find yourself surrounded by all types: there are the steadfast individuals who make and keep their yearly goals; the good-intentioned (like myself) who do not so much make a resolution, as set a standard for the year and follow it intermittently for 365 days; and, finally, there are the rebels, who refuse to make those "atrocious resolutions" (as one individual said to me) and embark on their paths into the new year, free of the weighty promises we make to ourselves.

I find, each year, that my good intentions always seem to fall to the same place: running. I loathed it throughout my 4 years of high school cross country, relied on it heavily through 4 years of college ups and downs and, now find that, at 25, it is a staple in my life, whether I like it or not.

And so that is the basis for this blog, to help me remember the best and worst parts of running and to share these experiences with others, who may be able to relate. A runner is a runner, no matter if you run a mile in 5 or 10 minutes. Each journey begins with the first step.

A quote from my Dad, who lives by this daily: "One day I will not be able to do this anymore, BUT NOT TODAY." -- This blog is dedicated to him.