I Run, But I'm Not a Runner... Or Am I?

This may sound a little strange, but stay with me...

There is a constant kidding that my hubby and I partake in. It is his way of gently making fun of his beloved and my way of lowering my own expectations. The other day, at my doctor's office, I was discussing why my foot discomfort was creating such a disruption in my life. I started the sentence with, "Because I run..." Notice I did not say, "I'm a runner..." The variations of the statement made in my doctor's office can include, "I like to run..." or "When I run..." or "I am training for..." I avoid the words, "I'm a runner" like the plague. Needless to say, once hubby and I got into our car after that doctor's visit, the harassment began. Almost in his best childlike "nah nah nah nah boo boo" voice, Hubster said, "So 'because you run', not because you are a runner, huh?" Or something like that - I try to drown him out when he's trying to be cute.*

I go to specialty running store for my shoes, because I run. I can spend hours in a sporting goods store looking at running gear and training items, because I run. I have a special savings account to pay for registration fees, because I run. I subscribe to multiple websites that will send me email notifications regarding races in my area, because I run. I receive gifts that help me in my training because everyone knows I run. I have Hal Higdon's training website bookmarked on my iPhone, because I run. I am sane (relatively) because I run. Yet, I am not able to refer to myself as a "runner".

I may have uttered the words, "I'm a runner" once and quickly retracted that statement. There is something in my mind that is holding me back from saying those words in lieu of "because I run." I think I would feel like an impostor if I attempted to say those words out loud. Let's face it... I am no Kara Goucher or Paula Radcliffe. Nor am I Dimity McDowell or Sarah Bowen Shea. By saying, "I'm a runner" I feel that I would be putting myself in the same category as these women. The only thing that we have in common is that we are all mothers and we enjoy running. Hubster might disagree with that statement, too. He seems to be under the impression that I also am a sponsored runner since all I work out in is Nike apparel, but I digress.

The playful "You're a runner. No I'm not" argument ensued for a little bit until hubby had to state the obvious (in his mind). He said, "You're a runner because you have an orthopedic surgeon and are having surgery on your foot to help you get back to running." He reveled in victory as he left me speechless. I had no words to combat his statement. So I sat in silence instead of telling him he was right.

That's right. The doctor appointment we were at on this particular day was a foot and ankle specialist that I have been seeing for about a year. It turns out that my running "career" is over for 2010. On Friday, I will have surgery on my foot to finally (God willing) get rid of this pain that has been bothersome since last year. It appears that 97% of individuals will respond well to various, more conservative types of treatment. Another 2% need a little bit more aggressive forms of treatment. Then there is that 1% that require surgery.** Oh, lucky me. I reviewed the synopsis that my doctor wrote down to give to the surgical center. He described my condition as "recalcitrant". My lucky readers get a two-for-one today. A blog AND a vocabulary lesson. Recalcitrant means "stubbornly resistant to authority or control".*** My daughter, Diva, and I laughed about this for a while. Isn't it ironic that my stubbornness extends all the way to my foot? I have a new accusation to throw at my daughter when she is being, well... Recalcitrant.

With all this being said, I will have no journey to blog about. I still won't be able to conquer my first half-marathon this year. A day or two after I was told I will have surgery, I went for a run. I know... Insane. But I figured, they're are going to fix what's wrong - why not get my money's worth? I took it easy and did a pathetic sub 15 minute mile. It was the best bad run in my history. I was smiling the entire time. I took in the joy that I was missing by trying to PR and push myself. Although I will miss my runs, I will make myself follow the plan prescribed by my doctor to have a speedy and accurate recovery. Although I will not have running stories to tell, I will be using the prompts distributed by Mama Kat and her writing workshop which can be found at www.mamakatslosinit.com. A friend turned me onto this site and I hope it will bring some of the sanity I find while I run.

By the way, because I run, I have already registered for a half-marathon on March 27th (to benefit Susan G. Komen for the Cure).


*I know you're reading this KISA, I love you. Smooches.
**These are statistics given to me by my doctor.
***Thanks Google!

HALF-MARATHON

This was the day. The day that my twelve weeks of training came to a head and I proved that I could accomplish something I never thought possible two years ago... Heck, maybe even a year ago. I picked out my outfit the night before and laid it out - complete with my "If I'm doing this it must be getting cold in Hell" BondiBand. I had all of my gear ready to go. I went to bed and drank some hot tea to aid in my drifting off to sweet dreams. As I laid in bed, eyes closed, I started replaying the advice I have received over these past twelve weeks. The one that stood out the most: "Visualize yourself crossing the finish line." I kept replaying that image in my head. Over and over and over again. It was a picture perfect moment. I looked strong. The strength of my stride got stronger and longer as I got closer to the finish line. Once I crossed the finish line, I would run into my husband's arms and my children would join our embrace (although Diva said she was sleeping in and not joining us). Ahhhh... What a sweet visual to fall asleep to last night.

The day had arrived. It was dark and early and it was time to get dressed. I found out that Diva changed her mind and wanted to go cheer me on. That made me smile. Before I knew it. We were ready to go. The dense fog made it somewhat hard for us to get there - missing one turn made us a tad bit later than we anticipated. Once we arrived to the race site, we had less than twenty minutes before the half-marathon started. My first stop was to the portapotties. Oh, the lines at the porta potties. There were four lines, all as long as the others. The conversation flowed as freely as we hoped our... Never mind, I'm not going to finish that statement.

When I exited the portapotty, I met up with a fellow running friend just outside of the potties. We overheard "5-4-3", etc. Freaked out we warmed up/sprinted to the start line - FREAKED!!! How could we have missed the start?!?!?! Then, the announcer then said, "the wheelchair half-marathoner has begun." Whew, we were relieved. We made our way to the starting corral and found the 3:00 pacer, Michelle. My plan was to stick with her and keep her pace. She's been very gracious with her advice and support this past week. I looked forward to running with her. I introduced myself and we were off.

About fifty feet along the course, I saw my family. There was KISA and Diva standing alongside the road. Captain Awesome was sitting on the Hubster's shoulders. I waved with a big smile and continued on. The pace was comfortable as Michelle said that we were going a little fast. That was a relief. I truly felt that I could do this pace for 13.1 miles. The group of runners that were running a 3:00 pace were so friendly - the ones I interacted with any way. Michelle kept us laughing and loose.

At mile one, we were a little ahead of pace. Michelle tried to readjust our strides. We looked to our left and we saw a beautiful athletic specimen gliding along the path, going the opposite direction as us. Michelle began cheering him on and we followed along and clapped and cheered. Then, one of us asked, "How soon do you think he's going to finish." We were astonished to learn he was going to finish the marathon in a third of the time it was going to take us to finish. Luckily none of us had any delusions of being, what's the word? Fast?

Unfortunately, this is basically where my story ends. Circumstances beyond my control sidelined me at mile two. I was done. In tears I called my husband and let him know I could not finish, nor could I go on to the first spectator spot at mile three. The image of the letters DNF on the race result website seared my brain and my disappointment increased. A jovial volunteer offered to take me to start line so I could meet up with the hubby. She was so perky - an obvious attempt to keep my spirits up. I told her how this week was full of barricades that were trying to keep me from running this race - and how I should have relented. I told her how fearful I was to return to our car and tell my children that I quit. She assured me that my son wouldn't remember and my daughter would learn that we have to listen to and cherish our bodies. I hoped she was right.

I saw our car and the Hubster standing beside it. He wrapped his arms around me and let me cry. When I got into our car, my son said, "I thought you were going to run longer." Dagger in the heart. :-) My daughter was so supportive and assured me that it was OK.

I came home and asked to be allowed to lay in bed the rest of the day and pout. This pity party was a one man show. The family agreed but that only lasted an hour or so. Next thing I knew, the kids came into my room with hot pink posters, purple balloons and purple streamers. They intended to have them on the course to cheer me on. Although I didn't finish - or come close to finishing - they wanted to show me how proud they were at my attempt. It was very sweet.

So, what's next? White Rock. I've already put my training plan in my agenda (scheduled workouts make it hard to skip workouts). Although I wrote training for this week, I planned on taking it easy. However, it's time for plan B. The training will go on and hopefully I will go on along with it.

HALF-MARATHON TRAINING: WEEK NINE

I began to write and rewrite this blog three times today. There wasn't much to report for this week of training, so I wasn't sure how to fill this entry with substance. My solution? I decided to go out for a run to clear my thoughts. It worked.

This week's blog is a shout out to some of my fellow runners and my giveaway winner!

Congratulations to Anita Valle. She won the BondiBand giveaway. Anita is a fan of the "You Can and You Will" BondiBand. What a great saying! I can't wait to hear her feedback once she receives the BondiBand.

I woke up this morning and went to cheer on two of my running friends as they ran a Labor Day 5K. I'm so proud of both of these ladies. My neighbor, Dana, tackled her first 5K after surgery. She did an awesome job! Dana is also currently training for a half-marathon in December. I know she will do amazing.

The second lady is my friend Janine. This was her first 5K, period! I know how hard she has been training and I am also very proud of her. She had her hubby there running alongside her throughout the race. Her hard work really paid off.

Great job, ladies!!!! I'll say it again. I'm so proud of both of you!!!!!

There's not much to report during this week of my training. Unfortunately, I took advantage of an easy week and made it uber-easy. I had three runs scheduled, but only completed one. There always seemed to be an excuse, or a Twinkie, that got in my way. Either way, I did not do what I needed to do this week. As I look at my calendar, the reality is daunting. There are twenty days until my half-marathon. Twenty days... TWENTY. DAYS. Less than three weeks, people. I gotta get this done. I'm in the home stretch and I have to stay focused. I cannot take it easy. I got to get this done. I pray that my foot, my body and my mind can get through these twenty days.

PLANNED MILEAGE: 14.2
ACTUAL MILEAGE: 5.03
CALORIES BURNED: 793

HALF-MARATHON TRAINING: WEEK SIX

There's nothing much to report this week. I'm halfway through my training and finished this week with a race. Insert sigh here ---->

I ran over five miles on Tuesday, encased by an hour of boot camp. On Friday, my legs (and buttocks) were still sore from that workout. There was more sprint work this week on the dreadmill. I even surprised myself by getting up at 5:00am on Thursday for a run date with a friend. Even I thought I was a little insane for doing that. I found a runner's diet plan midway in the week that I plan on implementing next week. Again, nothing super exciting occurred this week. Until my 5K on Saturday. Maybe exciting is overselling it.

I tossed and turned on Friday night as I anticipated my first race since Mother's Day. I don't know why I was so anxious, nervous, excited, or whatever it was that I was. I think I had higher expectations for myself for this race after all of the training that I have been doing. Let's face it. I. HAVE. BEEN. TRAINING!!!! Yes, in fact, I KNOW I had higher expectations for myself. With my other training plans, I'll be honest, I wasn't as diligent. Maybe I skipped a couple of runs each week. If I did my long run each week, that was what mattered to me most. This time, it's been much different. I have been very careful about making sure that I get my miles in. I really have!

After an argument with Google Maps, we finally arrived at the race site. It was an inaugural race, so I didn't expect a huge crowd. The course was described as "flat and fast", two words that I loved seeing described about a race. I'd say that there were about a few dozen participants that lined up for the 5K race. I'd say that the size of this race makes my mistakes more visible.

Mistake One: I was one of the first ones to line up. Yes, I should not have lined up with the fast guys, but I was ready to start.

Mistake Two: As soon as the air horn went off, I bolted. They say that a race is good to help you pace yourself and keep up with others around you. I should have lined up with at least the mid group of participants. Lesson learned.

Mistake Three: I held my breath. I don't know why. Less than a minute into the race, I was ready to stop. I had an unexplainable feeling in my throat, head and chest. It wasn't good. I seriously considered falling to the ground or twisting my ankle. I wasn't able to get my rhythm back after that horrible start.

I really wanted to cry so many times during the race. Even though the course wound through shaded paths, I was miserable. I even had thoughts of quitting... Not just the race, but training. I thought, "If I can't run three flingin' flangin' (edited of course) miles, how the hell can I expect myself to run 13.1?" I came close to stopping during that first mile and turn around. I came close to walking back to the start of the race and find The Hubster, my biggest fan, and tell him I give up. Why didn't I? I knew what he would say. Oh, but I also knew how great it would feel to have his arms around me and give me the big supportive hug that I love him for. Yes, he would support me if I decided to stop running. However, I know that if he were running next to me he would tell me that I was capable and I could do it and he believed in me. So, I kept going.

36 minutes.

Yes, it took me 36 minutes to run 3.1 miles. My desire to quit had never looked so appealing. I was absolutely mortified and it took everything in my power to not cry. I thought the race was horrible. Seeing my time was worse. This was worse than my first race after injury. Then, KISA reminded me why I participated in this race. I will take the mistakes that I made this time and learn from them. He's one smart guy.

As I close out this week, I leave you with a disturbing visual. Enjoy! Oh, by the way. Check back next week. I'm hosting my first giveaway! I'm very excited!!!




PLANNED MILEAGE: 13.1
ACTUAL MILEAGE: 14.75
CALORIES BURNED: 2,696
ACCOMPLISHMENT: I learned valuable lessons that will get me through these next six weeks.