Since the vast majority of our runs have been morning runs, we typically get to run in both dark and light. We start out under the stars, witness a sunrise, and end in the early morning light. We have seen up to a half dozen shooting stars in one run. We admire the way the sun streaks through the clouds. We've seen rainbows and full moons, and listened to the howling of the coyotes.
But it's not all sunrises and shooting stars.
Here is a list of some other things seen on our runs:
snakes
scorpions
quail
roadrunners
deer
cats
dogs
squirrels
tarantulas
frogs/toads
lizards
cows
rabbits
peacocks
skunk
mice
millipede
sheep
owls
Heather and Ryan, have I missed anything?
Some notes:
One run I saw 9 lizards in four miles.
The skunk was WAY too close for comfort. We had to literally stop in our tracks and wait until it retreated, tail pointed to the sky, into an irrigation ditch. Phew!
The deer nearly caused us to wet our pants when it startled out of the high brush in the fields one dark morning.
I literally stepped on the tiny scorpion, but he was too small to sting me through my shoe.
Both Heather and I nearly stepped on a tarantula on one long run along the marathon route.
Little field mice kept peeking out of the grass to investigate our flashlight beams.
Cats eyes look super creepy when you just catch them in the beam of your light for a second.
Ryan rescued a toad from certain death in the middle of the road.
Peacocks sound like children screaming.
A millipede looks super eerie the way it moves across the ground.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
Sunrises.
The camera on my phone is not that great, but even with a sub-par camera, I have caught some beautiful moments on my runs. Most of these moments occur as the sun is rising. If possible, I like to time my runs so that they begin in the dark, and end just after sunrise. There is nothing like watching the world wake up, especially in the beautiful area in which I live.
One day, as Rick was looking at my phone, he commented, "Are all of your cell phone pictures taken while running?" Yep. Pretty much!
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| The Fields. |
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| Airport Hill |
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| the dirt road down the bluff |
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| overlooking the neighborhood |
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| sunrise over the track |
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| blue dawn at Pine Valley Reservoir |
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| More Fields |
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| Sunrise on the river |
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| the vertical rainbow over Snow Canyon on our 22 mile run |
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| early morning traffic over the "5" in Anaheim, California |
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| Tower of Terror, just after sunrise |
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| My last run in California while on our Disneyland trip. The sun rising over the palm trees and freeways. |
One day, as Rick was looking at my phone, he commented, "Are all of your cell phone pictures taken while running?" Yep. Pretty much!
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Breaking it down
Wake up.
Training for a marathon in the desert, in the summer, requires a lot of waking up early. Many of our runs start before 5am, simply to avoid the triple digit heat. I have never been a big fan of being awake when the clock reads 4:anything. As traumatic as it is to climb out of bed at unholy hours, that is not the type of waking up that is hardest for me. For years I had been locked in an endless cycle of stress, exhaustion, excuses, and "rewards". I was looking for a way out in all the wrong places. It was wake-up time. And much like hitting the snooze button, the waking up is not always immediate. I feel like I have woken up in stages. Some days I can see very clearly how much better my life is now that I am running. And still some days, I have a really hard time waking up. It's so much more than fumbling for your running shoes in the dark. It's realizing that change is necessary. It's drawing the connection between what you are eating and how you are feeling. It's seeing your life from a different perspective, allowing you to be aware of the things that are really dragging you down. In this sense, I am still waking up. All.The.Time.
Run.
I used to think of "run" as a definitive word. Either you were running, or you were not running. "Do or do not, there is no try." Well, sorry Yoda, but that is not the way I have found things to be. Running is truly relative. When I first started, a run for me was at a walking pace for many. It took every bit of my energy, and I was still barely more than crawling. But I didn't care. Compared to sitting in front of the computer or taking a nap, it was a sprint! Through this process, I have had to forgive myself over and over for not being as "fast" as I want to be. I saw real increases in my speed at first, when I was just going a couple of miles. But as I ventured into long runs, my pace slowed again. It used to frustrate me. But now I have learned to be OK. When someone passes me along the trail, it's alright. More power to them. Maybe that will be me someday. There is no benefit to beating yourself up over not being fast enough. Instead of spurring me onward, it made me want to give up. So as far as I'm concerned, as long as one foot keeps going in front of the other, you are running. And keep it up.
Be Awesome.
Awesome: Inspiring feelings of wonder and awe, or fear. Fear! I think that aspect of the definition of awesome is really interesting. I have harbored a lot of fear through this process. Fear of failure. Fear of injury. Fear of those dark blobs just outside of the flashlight beam. Fear of not completing the marathon. Etc. I wouldn't take those feelings back. Those fearful thoughts have helped me to work harder. The aspect of fear has made the aspects of wonder and awe that much more pronounced. If it wasn't hard, if there wasn't some part of me that wondered if I could do it after all, then the victory would not be nearly so sweet. I remember telling myself that I could just do another 20 yards and then I could walk, and when I got there, I would do another 20 yards, and then another, and when I reached the end of the trail, I felt like yelling out a victory cry. After one such run, I realized something. It had been a while since I had felt that feeling of victory. I certainly didn't feel that way after making dinner or helping with homework. Some days I had a sense of accomplishment, but not that true thrill of victory. Of doing something that I didn't think I could. This training process has brought out of me the desire to be awesome in other aspects of my life. I am no longer a spectator in my own life. I am the one out there doing it. And that's a pretty exciting place to be.
Training for a marathon in the desert, in the summer, requires a lot of waking up early. Many of our runs start before 5am, simply to avoid the triple digit heat. I have never been a big fan of being awake when the clock reads 4:anything. As traumatic as it is to climb out of bed at unholy hours, that is not the type of waking up that is hardest for me. For years I had been locked in an endless cycle of stress, exhaustion, excuses, and "rewards". I was looking for a way out in all the wrong places. It was wake-up time. And much like hitting the snooze button, the waking up is not always immediate. I feel like I have woken up in stages. Some days I can see very clearly how much better my life is now that I am running. And still some days, I have a really hard time waking up. It's so much more than fumbling for your running shoes in the dark. It's realizing that change is necessary. It's drawing the connection between what you are eating and how you are feeling. It's seeing your life from a different perspective, allowing you to be aware of the things that are really dragging you down. In this sense, I am still waking up. All.The.Time.
Run.
I used to think of "run" as a definitive word. Either you were running, or you were not running. "Do or do not, there is no try." Well, sorry Yoda, but that is not the way I have found things to be. Running is truly relative. When I first started, a run for me was at a walking pace for many. It took every bit of my energy, and I was still barely more than crawling. But I didn't care. Compared to sitting in front of the computer or taking a nap, it was a sprint! Through this process, I have had to forgive myself over and over for not being as "fast" as I want to be. I saw real increases in my speed at first, when I was just going a couple of miles. But as I ventured into long runs, my pace slowed again. It used to frustrate me. But now I have learned to be OK. When someone passes me along the trail, it's alright. More power to them. Maybe that will be me someday. There is no benefit to beating yourself up over not being fast enough. Instead of spurring me onward, it made me want to give up. So as far as I'm concerned, as long as one foot keeps going in front of the other, you are running. And keep it up.
Be Awesome.
Awesome: Inspiring feelings of wonder and awe, or fear. Fear! I think that aspect of the definition of awesome is really interesting. I have harbored a lot of fear through this process. Fear of failure. Fear of injury. Fear of those dark blobs just outside of the flashlight beam. Fear of not completing the marathon. Etc. I wouldn't take those feelings back. Those fearful thoughts have helped me to work harder. The aspect of fear has made the aspects of wonder and awe that much more pronounced. If it wasn't hard, if there wasn't some part of me that wondered if I could do it after all, then the victory would not be nearly so sweet. I remember telling myself that I could just do another 20 yards and then I could walk, and when I got there, I would do another 20 yards, and then another, and when I reached the end of the trail, I felt like yelling out a victory cry. After one such run, I realized something. It had been a while since I had felt that feeling of victory. I certainly didn't feel that way after making dinner or helping with homework. Some days I had a sense of accomplishment, but not that true thrill of victory. Of doing something that I didn't think I could. This training process has brought out of me the desire to be awesome in other aspects of my life. I am no longer a spectator in my own life. I am the one out there doing it. And that's a pretty exciting place to be.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Just a day.
As the reality of training for a marathon set in, I decided to do my research. I checked websites, running groups, and magazines. But my favorite source of information came from people. I have a few friends who have been runners for years, and I figured that their expertise was the best I could get. I got tons of advice. Everything from mp3 players to running socks, from diet to they way I tie my shoes, from water belts to playlists.
There were a few pieces of advice that contradicted each other, just depending on personal preference. When to carbo load, how long your longest run should be, etc. But there was one piece of wisdom that was imparted by several people, each in their own words. I think my friend Beka said it best. "The marathon is just a day. The real challenge is in the training."
Oh boy, was she right. Well, I guess I can't technically say that yet, since the BIG DAY hasn't come yet. But I can definitely see it. The training is what tries you. The early alarms, the adjusted diet, the tired days, the achy muscles, the strict calendar. I used to look to the marathon day with fear and dread. Now I look at it with excitement. It will be hard...that I know. But it will be the end. I will have reached my goal. It won't be the end of my running, but it will be the end of my training for a while. I know that probably doesn't make much sense to a lot of people, but if you have trained for a marathon, you KNOW what I mean!
October 5th can't get here soon enough!
There were a few pieces of advice that contradicted each other, just depending on personal preference. When to carbo load, how long your longest run should be, etc. But there was one piece of wisdom that was imparted by several people, each in their own words. I think my friend Beka said it best. "The marathon is just a day. The real challenge is in the training."
Oh boy, was she right. Well, I guess I can't technically say that yet, since the BIG DAY hasn't come yet. But I can definitely see it. The training is what tries you. The early alarms, the adjusted diet, the tired days, the achy muscles, the strict calendar. I used to look to the marathon day with fear and dread. Now I look at it with excitement. It will be hard...that I know. But it will be the end. I will have reached my goal. It won't be the end of my running, but it will be the end of my training for a while. I know that probably doesn't make much sense to a lot of people, but if you have trained for a marathon, you KNOW what I mean!
October 5th can't get here soon enough!
Saturday, August 17, 2013
It's all in your head
We've all heard it. "It's more mental than physical."
And I believed it. Before this whole process started, I believed it. But I didn't really GET it.
I get it now.
Fairly early on...when I had been running maybe 2 or 3 months...I hit a wall. Up until that point, I was out of shape enough that the whole run was "the wall." I had finally built up enough to be able to run a couple of miles without struggling. So, as I was about 2 miles into a 3 mile run, I hit a wall. I kept telling myself that I had done it up until this point, so why should it be any different now? The word that popped into my head at that moment was inertia.
Inertia.
Basically, it's the principle that an object in motion will stay in motion until other forces act upon it.
This was breakthrough moment for me. It was not an "AHA!" moment, per se. It was more of a "Stupid inertia. Inertia is bull crap. I am currently in motion, but I can't just stay in motion indefinitely. Why doesn't inertia work on humans?" And I kept struggling through every step of that 3 mile run.
After I finished my run, I kept thinking about inertia. And I thought about the forces that act upon an object in motion...most especially friction. A ball rolling through the grass will not keep going forever because the grass causes friction, slowing the momentum of the ball. Stupid friction.
Here's where the "AHA!" moment came in.
I am my own friction. I am the reason that I can't keep running. I can do this, as long as I don't allow negative thoughts to be my friction. As long as I realize that, I can break through the struggles and come out the other side, gaining momentum. I understand that on occasion, forces outside of my control will be my friction. But in that moment, I made the choice to not allow my own thoughts to be my friction.
And I have frequently thought back upon that moment. When I really needed to push through about 17 miles into my 18 mile run, I thought about intertia, and friction, and instead of walking (which EVERY part of me wanted to do), I sped up and finished that run strong!
Take that, friction!
And I believed it. Before this whole process started, I believed it. But I didn't really GET it.
I get it now.
Fairly early on...when I had been running maybe 2 or 3 months...I hit a wall. Up until that point, I was out of shape enough that the whole run was "the wall." I had finally built up enough to be able to run a couple of miles without struggling. So, as I was about 2 miles into a 3 mile run, I hit a wall. I kept telling myself that I had done it up until this point, so why should it be any different now? The word that popped into my head at that moment was inertia.
Inertia.
Basically, it's the principle that an object in motion will stay in motion until other forces act upon it.
This was breakthrough moment for me. It was not an "AHA!" moment, per se. It was more of a "Stupid inertia. Inertia is bull crap. I am currently in motion, but I can't just stay in motion indefinitely. Why doesn't inertia work on humans?" And I kept struggling through every step of that 3 mile run.
After I finished my run, I kept thinking about inertia. And I thought about the forces that act upon an object in motion...most especially friction. A ball rolling through the grass will not keep going forever because the grass causes friction, slowing the momentum of the ball. Stupid friction.
Here's where the "AHA!" moment came in.
I am my own friction. I am the reason that I can't keep running. I can do this, as long as I don't allow negative thoughts to be my friction. As long as I realize that, I can break through the struggles and come out the other side, gaining momentum. I understand that on occasion, forces outside of my control will be my friction. But in that moment, I made the choice to not allow my own thoughts to be my friction.
And I have frequently thought back upon that moment. When I really needed to push through about 17 miles into my 18 mile run, I thought about intertia, and friction, and instead of walking (which EVERY part of me wanted to do), I sped up and finished that run strong!
Take that, friction!
The Half
As part of our training, we wanted to do a half marathon. We had already run further than 13 miles, but we felt that it would be good for us to do an official run. I wanted to feel the energy of a race atmosphere. So we signed up for the Parowan Half: Yankee Meadow Run. I was really excited to do this race because it was so much downhill, and it was a drop back from the longer runs we had already started to do.
This race is in such a beautiful place. The canyon has the beauty of aspen trees as well as pine and oak. The starting line was at a picturesque reservoir,
then the race dropped into some red sandstone
before ending in the tiny town of Parowan.
I wish I could say that the half was nothing but a great experience. It was not. Was I glad we did it? Definitely. But it was TOUGH! The first couple of miles were nice, running around the reservoir. It was a little sketchy because it was a dirt road at first, but once we hit the pavement it was much better. We hit the first aid station feeling great.
We ran alongside a guy who was also from St. George and running his first half marathon. He was confident that he could do it even though his longest run was only 4 miles. We all tried to keep a straight face as he told us that he wasn't worried about 13 miles because it was downhill, so it was really only like 8 miles, right? We passed him at some point and didn't see him again.
There was also a kid of about 14 or so that kept stopping and dry heaving at the side of the road. We offered him some water, but he wouldn't take it. I sure hope he ended up OK.
About then the downhill got a little crazy. We had run downhill before, but this was aggressively downhill. It was so steep that every time I would take a step, I could feel my foot slide all the way forward in my shoe, and then do it all over again the next step. We hit the mile 6 aid station, and I thought I had something in my shoe. I stopped and checked, but couldn't see anything, so I kept going. Shortly afterward, we hit the half-way point, where I decided to see if there was actually something in my sock. When I pulled back my sock, I saw a blister almost the size of my heel. Oh crap. I had never had a blister, even at the very beginning of my running process. And here I was, half way through my race, with a monster of a blister that I would have to finish the race with. Dang. But I pulled my sock and shoe back on and headed on down the road. By mile 7 I realized that I had a matching blister buddy on my other foot. Fanflippintastic.
But the fun did not end there. We reached the bottom of the canyon portion of the run and turned a corner. Suddenly we were in open, blistering sun. We were not used to training in exposed sun like that. Most of the time we would see the sun while it was rising, and not much beyond that. I felt my energy draining fast. I got a little boost from a well-placed aid station. Then there was a most angelic Parowan citizen who stood in front of his house, with his garden hose pulled to it's limit, spraying the runners as they went past. I could have kissed his 80 year old face.
The good news was, even with my blisters and the sunshine, we were ahead of pace. So we just kept going.
If I were in charge of a race (which I am sure I never will be); but if I were, I would do everything in my power to make sure that the finish line is placed in such a way that you do NOT pass it with 3 miles left to go. It is pure torture to have to pass the finish line, then make a loop back up to the finish line. Especially if that loop takes you slightly downhill, leaving you with a slight uphill back to the finish line.
Also, if I ever run a half marathon, and I get to the finish line with extra energy, and I decide it would be a good idea to run back up the race course "encouraging" the runners still on the course, just do me a favor, and SHOOT ME! Because that is SO ANNOYING!
Truth be told, I really struggled those last 3 miles. I wanted so bad to keep up the pace, but I just ran out of energy. I walked in short spurts, then would run again, but I felt that at that point, my running pace was hardly any faster than my walking pace. When we finally got to that last turn, where we could see the finish line and hear the announcer and the cheering, I was finally able to keep my feet going. It was a great feeling to cross that finish line. Probably because it hadn't been a cakewalk run, it felt even better than it would have. I always feel this feeling of elation after I have done something hard. Since that race I have run 16, 17, 18, and 22 mile runs and finished feeling better than I did at that race. But I still have such a great feeling when I think of that half...finished in 2 hours and 20 minutes with two GIANT blisters on my feet and not an ounce of energy left.
Rick's work was a sponsor for the race, and paid for my entry. Several other employees and spouses ran the race as well. We all got together at the finish line for a little company picture.
Ryan and Heather are the greatest running partners ever.
Ryan had been through a horribly traumatizing week, and yet she was there to complete that run with some serious grit. Heather is all positivity and encouragement. I am lucky to have them to go through this process with. And I can't wait to run the marathon with them. We are going to be awesome!
And I tell you what. I have redemption on my mind. I will definitely be running that race again next year. And I will kill my time. And I will cross that finish line blister-free and smiling! If it kills me.
This race is in such a beautiful place. The canyon has the beauty of aspen trees as well as pine and oak. The starting line was at a picturesque reservoir,
then the race dropped into some red sandstone
before ending in the tiny town of Parowan.
I wish I could say that the half was nothing but a great experience. It was not. Was I glad we did it? Definitely. But it was TOUGH! The first couple of miles were nice, running around the reservoir. It was a little sketchy because it was a dirt road at first, but once we hit the pavement it was much better. We hit the first aid station feeling great.
We ran alongside a guy who was also from St. George and running his first half marathon. He was confident that he could do it even though his longest run was only 4 miles. We all tried to keep a straight face as he told us that he wasn't worried about 13 miles because it was downhill, so it was really only like 8 miles, right? We passed him at some point and didn't see him again.
There was also a kid of about 14 or so that kept stopping and dry heaving at the side of the road. We offered him some water, but he wouldn't take it. I sure hope he ended up OK.
About then the downhill got a little crazy. We had run downhill before, but this was aggressively downhill. It was so steep that every time I would take a step, I could feel my foot slide all the way forward in my shoe, and then do it all over again the next step. We hit the mile 6 aid station, and I thought I had something in my shoe. I stopped and checked, but couldn't see anything, so I kept going. Shortly afterward, we hit the half-way point, where I decided to see if there was actually something in my sock. When I pulled back my sock, I saw a blister almost the size of my heel. Oh crap. I had never had a blister, even at the very beginning of my running process. And here I was, half way through my race, with a monster of a blister that I would have to finish the race with. Dang. But I pulled my sock and shoe back on and headed on down the road. By mile 7 I realized that I had a matching blister buddy on my other foot. Fanflippintastic.
But the fun did not end there. We reached the bottom of the canyon portion of the run and turned a corner. Suddenly we were in open, blistering sun. We were not used to training in exposed sun like that. Most of the time we would see the sun while it was rising, and not much beyond that. I felt my energy draining fast. I got a little boost from a well-placed aid station. Then there was a most angelic Parowan citizen who stood in front of his house, with his garden hose pulled to it's limit, spraying the runners as they went past. I could have kissed his 80 year old face.
The good news was, even with my blisters and the sunshine, we were ahead of pace. So we just kept going.
If I were in charge of a race (which I am sure I never will be); but if I were, I would do everything in my power to make sure that the finish line is placed in such a way that you do NOT pass it with 3 miles left to go. It is pure torture to have to pass the finish line, then make a loop back up to the finish line. Especially if that loop takes you slightly downhill, leaving you with a slight uphill back to the finish line.
Also, if I ever run a half marathon, and I get to the finish line with extra energy, and I decide it would be a good idea to run back up the race course "encouraging" the runners still on the course, just do me a favor, and SHOOT ME! Because that is SO ANNOYING!
Truth be told, I really struggled those last 3 miles. I wanted so bad to keep up the pace, but I just ran out of energy. I walked in short spurts, then would run again, but I felt that at that point, my running pace was hardly any faster than my walking pace. When we finally got to that last turn, where we could see the finish line and hear the announcer and the cheering, I was finally able to keep my feet going. It was a great feeling to cross that finish line. Probably because it hadn't been a cakewalk run, it felt even better than it would have. I always feel this feeling of elation after I have done something hard. Since that race I have run 16, 17, 18, and 22 mile runs and finished feeling better than I did at that race. But I still have such a great feeling when I think of that half...finished in 2 hours and 20 minutes with two GIANT blisters on my feet and not an ounce of energy left.
Rick's work was a sponsor for the race, and paid for my entry. Several other employees and spouses ran the race as well. We all got together at the finish line for a little company picture.
Ryan and Heather are the greatest running partners ever.
Ryan had been through a horribly traumatizing week, and yet she was there to complete that run with some serious grit. Heather is all positivity and encouragement. I am lucky to have them to go through this process with. And I can't wait to run the marathon with them. We are going to be awesome!
And I tell you what. I have redemption on my mind. I will definitely be running that race again next year. And I will kill my time. And I will cross that finish line blister-free and smiling! If it kills me.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
I run like a gazelle.
It occurred to me about 16 miles into our 18 mile run. I run like a gazelle. It's true. If you look it up, and find out what a gazelle looks like while running, and compare it to a video of me running, you may not quite see the resemblance. I identify with the gazelle in a completely different way.
I am that gazelle. The one who is just slightly behind the group. The one who the lion would zero in on and cut off from the herd. The one who would be taken down by the predator.
It's OK. I'm good with it. I feel good about being able to keep up with my running mates, even if it's just barely at times. And considering we are pretty far from the savannah, I'm fairly certain that there are no lions running loose around here. I may be that gazelle, but I'm a gazelle nevertheless.
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