Rocktoberfest 2014 (aka HILLtoberfest)

Yesterday, I ran my 11th Half Marathon.

It is the first race I did not have butterflies before a race.

What was different?  I am still not sure - just that I did not have pre-race anxiety, like I usually do. I just wanted to get started (the race began about 4 minutes late, according to my watch), and about mile 8, I just wanted to be done.

I had not been looking forward to the race, because I do not feel that I trained as much as I would have liked.  Life, you know?  It was in Charlotte, which I hate driving in.  It would be hilly.
However, I had not run in a race since June.  I've been trying to cut back - but not that much, so I was due for a race.
I was looking forward to running through neighborhoods - I always enjoy looking at houses.

Last blog I wrote about how awesome running HILLS can be. . .this week, I would like to say, Hills Suck.

If it's at all possible, I think the race yesterday was entirely uphill.  With a few more uphills for funsies.  I was moderately familiar with the course, as I think it was very close to the Ramblin Rose Half Marathon I ran a couple of years ago.  I knew about the Big Hill at mile 5.  I forgot about the other big hills at miles 7, 8, 10, 11 and 12.

That said, I did fairly well.  I ran with a friend until Mile 4.25, at which point we got separated.  After that, I ran my own pace, enjoyed looking at the houses, thanking all the police officers, volunteers, and spectators, high-fiving children standing on sidewalks to cheer on their families, and grooving to my playlist.

Hillly and humid - I had a good run.

Eleven 1/2 marathons, and maybe I've just found my groove?  I know what to expect.  I know what to wear, and how to prepare.  I know that I will finish.
Or, maybe, I am finally confident in my abilities as a runner?

I know that I CAN do this. . .

And I am glad I learned to use the chaffing cream in places where one would not normally think chaffing could occur.

Hills

When I am out driving, I am always on the lookout for new routes for my running and/or cycling.  I look for roads that are not too busy, not a lot of big hills, and if possible, scenic.

Yet, I've learned that when driving, a road can seem relatively flat - until you are cycling on it, and especially, when you run on it.  There is a neighborhood near me where I like to do my long runs - it's very safe, has lots of beautiful homes - quite a few on the water, and it seems mostly flat - and it is for this area. . .until I run it.

What seems flat in my car, and moderately flat on my bicycle, feels much more up and down when I run.

And that's fine.

Hills make me stronger.

I have not done a long run, in a long time.  I have a 1/2 coming up next month though, and really wanted to get in a long run prior to the race.  So, this weekend, I picked my favorite long route, in the above-mentioned safe, beautiful neighborhood - headed out early - and had my long run.

As I ran, I found myself thinking about:  my sons, and the many small dips and climbs along the route - that I usually think of as flat.  There are a lot of similarities.

This August, we started back to school.  My eldest, in 5th grade, my youngest in 3rd.  We got off to a great start.  Great, doesn't even really begin to cover it.  My eldest is doing really, REALLY well.  I feel like I am holding my breath - waiting - for what?  For 5 years and a little of the 6th year, I frequently fielded weekly, if not daily, meltdowns from my child, teacher concerns, academic battles, social struggles, etc.  Last year it was significantly less.  This year, thus far, nonexistent.

We are on a flat stretch of road.

Yet, as I was on my long run, I was reminded that no road is perfectly flat.  I've learned, as I am now in my 3rd year of serious running, that I actually do not like races that are "flat".  I even run slower, and struggle more on "flat" courses, than if there are at least a few hills or rolling hills.  Don't get me wrong, flat stretches are nice, as a recovery to prepare for the hills.

I prefer the give and take of having to work up a hill, and coming down.  I like that I have to use different muscles, including my brain, to make it up a hill.  I enjoy the challenge of it.

And, it makes me stronger.

While my son and I are on a relatively flat portion of our journey, I know that there will be hills.  There are still our normal daily hurdles.  We are working hard, but we are certainly enjoying this stretch of our run.  We have climbed a lot of hills, we will climb more - and be fine - because we are stronger.

Race Bibs, Shirts, and Medals - Oh My!

You run.
You bike.
You Tri.

What are you doing with your race bibs?  Your mountains of race shirts?  All those awesome medals?

I think each athlete has their own "thing".  I have friends who love to run for the "bling" - the amazing medals.  There are people who have their race shirts made into blankets.  Personally, I like to collect my race bibs.  Some are plain - really only a number.  Some are much more colorful, and now and then, even personalized, with my name.

I've written before about my Mile 22 bag.

I love it.

This is my exercise bag - and I have used it for more than a year now - and it's still in perfect condition.  This bag holds everything I need for my workouts and races, it is tough, it reflects my hard work.

Mile 22 Race Day Tote carries it ALL:
I take mine to work every day, in case I get a chance to run.  I also pack it up whenever I have a ride or race.  It holds my workout gear, shoes, and all my workout junk - you know - SpiBelt, KT-Tape, face wipes, GUs, gum, extra socks, hat, water bottles, Garmin, iPod, and kitchen sink.  You get the idea.

Mile 22 Bags say, "You're Awesome!":
Come on runners - we are not a shy group.  We proudly wear our race shirts.  We slather the back of our vehicles with a variety of stickers and magnets advertising our accomplishments - 26.2, 13.1, TRI, Runner Girl.  Mile 22 takes your hard earned race bibs, race shirts, and can even use the ribbons from your medals to make a personalized bag for YOU.  Why not have a bag that you can carry around to show off - since we can't lug our cars with us into the store.

Mile 22 Bags Can Improve Your Social Life:
To me, carrying around my bag (which goes to work with me every day) - is like wearing one of my race medals after a race.  I am proud.  I make new friends.  People will stop me and ask about my bag, and point to one of the bibs and ask, "Did you run that one?  I did!", and I get to meet a fellow runner.

Mile 22 Bags Can Save the World:
Well, this one might be a slight exaggeration - BUT, your Mile 22 bag purchase can help St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.
Seriously.

I am honored and excited to be an Ambassador for Mile 22 Bags - can you tell?

When you click on the Mile 22 links on this page, you can place an order that is connected to me.  I've chosen to support St. Jude's Charity.  I do not profit at all - but St. Jude's will receive $10 from every bag purchased through my link.  You get, and you give.
View/Order Mile 22 Bags

In addition - from now through November 30th - you can receive 10% off your purchase when you enter my specific code:  ROCKTOBERFEST.

You're welcome.

I. Can. Do. It.

My  husband just returned from 5 days and 4 nights away.

I was moderately prepared for 4 days and 3 nights, but he texted late on the 3rd night that he would be gone another day.   It was his birthday "weekend", so, kudos to him - but - I really, really missed him.

"Is it hard dealing with the boys yourself?" my Mom asked.

No.  The boys were great.  It was that I missed my husband - I missed my best friend.  And, where he was had horrible cell service so phone calls and texting were extremely limited.
And, yes, the single parenthood thing is exhausting.  I couldn't go to the gym.  I couldn't participate in my weekly bike ride group.  I got to have a fabulous (sarcasm, folks) "boy body" discussion with my boys.

I had to handle Monday, by myself.

This week is the ONE week that my eldest son goes to camp this summer.  Before school was out, he was adamant that he attend the JA Biz Town summer camp.  JA Biz Town is a program in the public schools, and my son enjoyed it so much, that he was determined to go to their camp this summer.

Me, being more uncertain about him attending a non-school related camp, was much less determined.  I procrastinated on registering, in the hopes he would just forget about it.

He didn't.

So, I figured out a week that we would be around, and signed him up.  There was a lot of paperwork.  I am always unsure of how much to share about my often challenging son.  He had a great school year, and was doing so well, I erred on the side of positive optimism and mentioned that he could get upset and would need a quiet space, if so.  That's about it.

You know where this is going.

Yesterday was the first day of camp.  No husband at home.  The day started with two tired, cranky kids, "Why do we have to get up so early?  I didn't realize we would have to get up so early!  I don't want to go!"

I can do this.

The drive to Charlotte is 26 miles.  It took 1 1/2 hours.  By the final 30 minutes, the language out of my mouth was most definitely R-rated.

I hate driving.  I have driving if the sun is shining.  I hate driving in unfamiliar places.  I hate traffic.
For my son?  I can do this.

This drive took 90 minutes, in traffic, in a torrential downpour.  By the time we arrived at camp, I was ready to rent a hotel room for the week, just so I wouldn't have to drive again.

In an effort to not do this drive more than once a day, I had planned out awesome activities for me and 8 year old son.  Unfortunately, 80% of the planned activities were outdoors.  Mother nature had other plans.  Mmmwwwahhhhh.  So, we ended up at Ray's Splash Planet (indoor water fun).  We managed to get in one hour before everyone had to exit the pool.  Who knew there was a no swimming policy during thunderstorms?  Now you know.

So, we hopped in the car, and headed out for lunch.  Again, in a torrential downpour.
And what is up with city driving??  Streets in Charlotte are insane.  Every other street is ONE WAY, except when it isn't, and you can only go straight.  And streets that I couldn't make a left down in the morning, were suddenly left turn only?

And parking?  I spent  my children's college funds to park for 3 hours in Charlotte.

I can do it.  Right?  It will be okay.  I don't want to do it though.  I am hating every second of being in Charlotte, of trying to figure out the streets, of trying to find parking. . .

Then, the camp calls.  "Can we talk about your son?"
Why?  Why can't I just drop him off and have it all be okay?
When I finally pick up my son at 3pm, he gets in the car and doesn't say anything.  Fifteen minutes (and 4 wrong turns later) on our drive home, he says, "Camp was good.  I really like the teacher."

oooookay?

Then, at 6pm, as I am preparing dinner, sans the husband still. . .the phone rings.  Caller ID - it's the camp.  "Can we talk about your son again?"

At this point.  I am ready to cry.
As we sit down to dinner, and I am completely ready to say, "I can't" to the rest of this week.
I tell my son about my conversations with the race director.  I am fully prepared for us to not return.

"I want to try again tomorrow.  I can do it.  I want to do this, " my son tells me, with tears in his eyes.

Deep breath.  Mentally I am thinking, "I can't do this!"  I am screaming this in my head, but I say, "Okay, let's do this."

Today, it takes 45 minutes to get to Charlotte.  I drop off my son and return back home.
At noon, the camp calls, "Your son is having a great day!"

I feel myself exhale - a little.

The drive back to Charlotte for pick-up:  32 minutes.
At carpool, I see a grown-up walking my son towards the car.  I quickly debate on staring straight ahead and pretending like I don't see her.  Did the afternoon deteriorate?  Did my son meltdown?
Please, just get in the car, and let's make a quick getaway.  Maybe I can pretend to be the Nanny?

As my son climbs in the car he announces, "This is Ms. L and she has to talk to you."

Crap.  I can't do it!
I roll down the window, prepared to explain how I am the Nanny. . .
"Hi,!" says Ms. L, "I don't HAVE TO talk with you, I just wanted to meet you because we've chatted so much."
Oh, well, in that case, big smile - and I am the Mom.
"Your son had a wonderful day.  He did great!" She announced, and was just as excited as I was, and from the back seat, my son declared, "I did it. . .and I'll be back tomorrow!"
I'm so proud of my son.  I am proud that he overcame his anxiety, and was determined to return to camp, even though I gave him an out.  I am proud that he wanted to do it on his own, and that he turned the situation around.  I am proud that he did it.

He can do it.  So, I can too.

Maine: Wicked Good!

We have just returned from a trip to Maine.  Both my husband and I went to high school there (that's where we met), and we still have family there.  It had been two years since our last visit, so we were due for a trip.

The drive is hellacious.  It took us 19 hours going up - and we drove straight through.

However, once in Maine. . .It was heaven.  Maine in the summer is beautiful, especially early summer.  No black flies, low humidity, mild temperatures.  The only negative is that the lakes and ponds are still pretty cold - but that didn't deter the kids!

This visit was short.  We were there less than a week, and there is A LOT of family to see.  Luckily, my husbands family (which is huge), coordinated, and we were able to have a massive gathering at my husband's older sister's house one day.  My husband is one of ten siblings and 6 others are still in Maine, so we had a great turnout.
In addition, many (many, many) cousins are about the same age as our boys, so it was Cousin-Fest '14, and they had a blast.  In fact, seeing my boys with their cousins made the entire trip worthwhile.  It made us sad that we don't live closer to family - and that these visits are too few and far between.

For the first hour of the car ride home we found ourselves brainstorming ways we could move back to Maine and be closer to family. . .then, we talked about winter, and I am over that!  No way could I survive Maine winters again.

An added bonus for me, on this trip, is I fell back in love with running.  I have been struggling for a few months now to find my groove.  While in Maine, I was stretched way beyond my normal comfort zone - I don't like traveling, the drive was horrible, I was functioning on very little sleep, I was in large social gatherings - I was stressed!!!  I made it a point to run almost every day I was there - and with these sorts of views - I found my running mojo.  I looked forward to running.  I felt better after running.  Most importantly - I wanted to run.  I had missed that.

Before we left for Maine, I was not sure what my workout/running opportunities would be, so I registered for a Thursday night, 4-mile race in a nearby town.  That way, I knew I would have at least that opportunity to run, if nothing else.  I didn't wear my running watch, because I just wanted to relax, and enjoy running in a new place on a new route.

Someone near me during the race had a watch that beeped.  When my watch beeps, it means I have completed a mile.  So, I was shocked, after listening to her watch beep a couple times, when we approached the 1st mile marker!  By the time I hit the 2nd mile, I was seeing black spots and wanted to pass out.  What was wrong with me?  Was it because of elevation?  Environment?  Allergies?  I finished the race fairly strong and was SHOCKED to see that I ran in just under 35 minutes, for an 8:42 pace.  For the last several months, it has been an effort to run at a 9:20 pace.  Maybe I should move back to Maine?

In addition, my mother, found her protegee, I think.  She is a professional knitter, and has tried to teach me and my brothers with no success.  Well, my 8 year old picked it up immediately, and loves it.  My mother is thrilled.

The car ride home was just as hellacious, if not more so, than the ride up. . .For some unknown reason, the GPS re-routed us and I think we spent an extra hour on the road in Connecticut.  To compound the stress, my youngest gets carsick - at least this time, instead of redecorating the interior of the car, he managed to stick his head out the car window - on the interstate - at 65 mph.  To whoever was driving behind us - I am sorry.

Overall it was a great week.  We had a wonderful time with family and friends.  Hopefully, my running mojo stays with me, and hopefully it will be less than two years before we return. . .Maybe next time we can fly?

(The view from the top floor of my Mom's house.)

Dada, Daddy, Dad. . .

Recently, my youngest son has been on a campaign to upgrade our parental names from Mommy and Daddy to Mom and Dad.

If I say, "Daddy will take you when he gets home," my youngest will say, "You mean, 'Dad'."

This has been going on for a few months (because clearly, I don't catch on quickly - and it's hard to break a 10 year old habit).  When I asked why the name change, my youngest sincerely responded, "It's more grown-up."

Okay.  I get it.  Kind of.

As much as we are 3-5 years out from the Teen-Years, I know that the time is coming when our boys will call us much worse names, probably accompanied by an "I hate you" and possibly even some door slamming.

So, I guess for now, we will embrace the shortened, but still appropriate titles of Dad and Mom.

Because, really, no matter what they call us - we are still their parents.

On that note, my husband is a wonderful father.

Quite often I find myself thinking about how lucky our kids are to have him as a Dad.  They truly do not know how lucky they are, because my husband off sets my crazy enough that my kids might just have a shot at a normal upbringing.

Nothing seems to faze my husband.  He is truly one of the most laid-back men I have ever known - which again, is wonderful, because I am one of the most high strung people I know.
Yin and yang, people, yin and yang.  That's how we roll.

Our boys' deafening noise level?  My husband doesn't bat an eye.

The other night at the dinner table, without missing a beat, my husband says to our youngest, "Eat your dinner, not your boogers."  Then returned to our conversation, like the sentence he just uttered was a completely normal part of any conversation.  Mr. Laid Back.

I call my husband at work, practically in tears, because yet another part of our home/car/electronics has been destroyed by our children.  Often, my husband will respond with, "Yeah, sounds about right."

The other night, after reminding the boys for the, I don't know, 5000th time that we do NOT ride our scooters in the house - my husband comes in from outside, hops on one of said scooters and - rides around the house.  "I was just moving it from the back door to the front door," he clarified in response to my 5001 reminder about not riding the scooters in the house.

He makes us laugh, when we want to scream.  He calms us down when we get worked up.  He gives the best hugs in the entire the world.

This man.  This amazing, wonderful, hard-working, caring, loving man.  Happy "Dad's" Day.  We are ALL so, so lucky to have you in our lives.

Disconnect to Reconnect: Downhill @ Dawn

"I hate running."

This was a frequent thought of mine over the past several weeks.  I had not run a long distance (over 9 miles) since my half marathon in Raleigh in mid-April.  Particularly these past three weeks, with the weather so hot and school/work wrapping up, I had to force myself to even run 3 miles at a time.

In the past, I couldn't wait to run.  I would start thinking about it in the morning, and look forward to it - my release.  These past couple months, I dreaded my scheduled runs.  I only kept them up for the calorie burn, but there was absolutely no enjoyment.  In fact, I hated every second.

To be fair, I think a lot of it had to do with the temperatures.  My only opportunity to run was at noon - smack dab in the middle of the day, and it was terribly hot the past few weeks.  That didn't help.

My other theory was that my allergy meds were messing with me.  I am on up to three different medications - some two times a day, just to function.  But apparently, it was only just to function, because I couldn't run.  I was having trouble breathing, my legs felt like each one weighed 100 pounds.  I just didn't feel right.

This past weekend, I had a half marathon I had initially been really looking forward to - in the mountains.  For the past month though, I was dreading it.  I was running 1- 1 1/2 minutes per mile slower than my normal pace.  I didn't want to run.  I felt like crap.  In an effort to not die on the course, I quit my allergy meds three days before the race, hoping it would be out of my system.

Rock and a hard place.

No allergy meds, meant suffering with allergies - but yes, I actually felt better.  Luckily, as it was June, the worst of my allergy season was behind me, so I could manage without the meds, for the most part.

The race is called Downhill at Dawn.  It starts in Black Mountain, NC and ends in Old Fort, NC.  As it's at "Dawn", the race begins at 6:01am.

There were a lot of ladies from my local running group at this race, which made for a more fun environment.

I'm a very "glass is half empty" kind of gal.  So I went into the race with NO major goals or expectations - except to not die, and hopefully finish in less than 2 hours 30 minutes.

Because of my total lack of training for this race, I did NOT wear my Garmin.  I knew it would mess with my head to have that information - and I just wanted to run the race with no added pressure.  It felt like enough to just show up.

The first three miles were hard - both physically and mentally.  The race might have been called "Downhill" @ Dawn, but the first 5 miles or so were fairly hilly.  My legs did not feel like they each weighed 100 pounds though (no meds?), so that helped.  Also, the temps were much cooler so early in the morning, in the mountains.  Mentally, I was itching to know my pace.  About mile 3, I asked a lady in a blue shirt next to me what our pace was - and she told me a 10 minute mile.  Fine.  I was not going to break any records, but I felt good. So I figured I would just try and maintain that pace.

I kept blue shirt lady in my sights for the rest of the race.  I would pass her on the uphills, and she would pass me on the downhills.  We made a joke about it - "tagging" each other each time we went by.  At the end of the race, she came up and hugged me, and I got to thank her for being my marker on the course.  As we finished, she was just ahead of me, and they called out her name, and bib number:  106. . .I was 107.  Seems it was fitting that we motivated one another and finished as we did.

The race was absolutely gorgeous.  It reminded me of one of my other favorite scenic races (also in the mountains):  The Scream.  From mile 5-9 it was predominately downhill, rural, and very beautiful.  I used gravity to my advantage.   Miles 10-12 were difficult in that I just wanted to be done, but that is normal.  I still felt good.  Once at mile 12, we were heading into town - and I was actually pretty pumped up.

I did it.  I do not recommend not training and then racing, but it worked out for me this time.  Most importantly, I felt great about the run.  I felt like I had my body back, and it felt good to be out there, and it felt really, really good to disconnect.

After mile 3 I really enjoyed NOT having my watch.  I went with how my body felt, and that was the right thing for me at this time.

It was wonderful to disconnect - so I could reconnect with running.