Yes, we're having a baby . . .

It's like an experiment in sociology to tell your children that you're having a baby and watch what happens. It's been a crazy week - not to mention coming home from vacation, having 2 days to recover, and then having company stay at your house for seven days, finding out you're pregnant, and really just trying to recover from a marathon emotionally and physically and wishing you can run.

So, yes - if there was any question after my last post - I am pregnant, and no, I had no idea when I ran the Boston Marathon. It's kinda funny to think about - maybe my body had it's own way of telling me to slow down. And it's kinda funny to think that I carried someone along that never qualified - oops! It's kind of a worrisome thing, too - to know that I ran that far and pushed my body to the limit while it was concentrating on other things. I've tried and tried to find research on the topic of running marathons while pregnant, but there isn't much out there but the standard - run easy while you're pregnant and don't compete. There are supposed heart rate limits (140 bmp) and supposed temperature limits (102 degrees), but there are articles that refute that, too. Perhaps when I talk with the doctor, I can find more answers.

The whole thing about telling the children . . . when you find out you're having a baby, it's a pretty exciting thing, and you want to share it with your children. It is highly unreasonable to tell a six-year-old such news, and expect her to keep it a secret. But it's also still very early in the pregnancy and there are reasons to not tell the general public. We chose to live in the moment. The kids - mostly our youngest - told the entire population in a matter of hours she was so excited. I've had very healthy pregnancies, but you can never predict such a thing - only take it one day at a time.

One day at a time? Me - who has no patience? Me, who was asking what next and planning my next marathon? Oh, my. It's so hard to take it day by day and not think too much about it all since it's so early, but it's so hard to not think about it when there is this child miraculously growing inside of me. I know that I have a scheduled 2 more weeks of no running, possibly 4, to make it either 4 or 6 weeks of no running post marathon to let my IT bands heal. And really, with no upcoming race, I have no reason to hurry it. I swam Friday, and can continue to up that training, and water running, just not with too much intensity. And I can lift weights lightly. And I read yesterday that I could bike up until 10 weeks when the uterus moves up into the abdomen. Prior to that, it is protected, and even falling off of a bike would not hurt the baby. But with IT issues, I won't be biking until after that, and then, I guess, I could ride a stationary bike. But that means a tri is out. Grrrrrr. But I've read that people do it . . . if anyone has more thoughts on that, I'd love to hear them. I did go for a 2-3 hour walk on Saturday and did lots of yardwork - my little leggies were sore after, so that was too much. Maybe I'll just walk the dog.

I'm seriously gonna go crazy. I need some focus - something to keep me occupied to take the place of training and training goals.

And all of our children were intentionally named after places - just something we chose to do. All five members of our family have the same middle initial as well - kind of a family connectedness thing. But it's so early to think of baby names . . . . and I really just want to take a nap.

Reflections on New Beginnings

My sister turns 40 today. She's beginning a new decade. She told me she took some time off this morning to honor the transition. Pretty cool when you think about it - to take the time to pause and reflect - to look backward and forward before moving head on into the present.

Our oldest daughter, Kenaia, is 11 years old - named after Kenai, Alaska. The day she was born it was unusually stormy and windy. Her birth was very difficult and she came out with reddish hair and freckles. It all fits her personality. She's a determined little bugger - stubborn to the end, and likes to have things her way. She was an early talker, an early reader, and her current literacy skills blow us away. She could honestly be a published author right now. Books and writing are her passions, and she loves all things of the natural world, especially the wind, which she claims is her 'element'. Not only can she read into books, but she can read into people - she's very introspective. Her ability to comprehend people and situations is amazing. It makes me emotional to think about how she's grown into a little young lady. She's not only my daughter, but my friend and advisor at times, and a very independent creature. She's very true to herself and loves to explore. She's adamant about the fact that her true calling is to be a Dragonologist - to travel the world searaching for dragons.

Sydney is nine. When Sydney, Australia was named the site of the 2000 Olympics, we decided it would be a perfect name for a child. Sydney was born so fast that the nurse had to grab some doctor in the delivery room next door because our doctor didn't make it in time. And true to her name and her birth, Sydney is extremely athletic, fascinated by all sports, and does not like to wait for anything. In fact, not just sports, Syd is fascinated by everything. With her allowance, she bought herself a subscription to National Geographic Kids Magazine. She loves the Guinness Book of World Records. She loves Garfield and the Sunday comics and has a terrific sense of humor. She often hides around the house and tries to pop out and surprise me. She's a sponge for all sorts of information and can relay any information you request at any moment - how many people were on the Titanic, what caused the Great Chicago Fire, etc. What she really loves is animals. She has a very tender, compassionate side and gets emotional when it comes to any type of creature. She tells us that she wants to have a big house someday so she can have lots of dogs, and she wants to travel around studying animals all over the world. And play basketball for the WNBA.

Meissa is 6 years old. She was named after a place, just like her sisters - only farther away. Meissa is a double star serving as one of the head stars in the Orion Constellation. In Arabic, it means 'the shining one.' This child was also born under the constellation Leo the Lion, and in the chinese zodiac Year of the Dragon. You can only imagine the little fireball that she is. She's a true wild one - fueled by race cars, extreme sports, all things pink, fashion, hairstyles, and shoes. Several years ago she could tell you several different models of cars as they drove by on the street - yet she might also be able to tell you about the latest shoe designers. She has recently learned to read and is fascinated not only by books, but by the world of print that exists before her eyes in every moment of her day. She's a busy kid - constantly jump-roping in the house. Currently she has no aspirations for the future. She lives completely in the moment and enjoys every second of her day - inspiring others to join her. Whatever she chooses to do with herself, she doesn't let anyone or anything stand in her way, and she gives it one hundred percent.

That's a glimpse into my reflections today - inspired by my sister. And then a moment to honor the transitions before I move into the future - the unknown - the exciting, the scary, the thrilling.

I mentioned in my marathon posts that I wasn't sure what I'd learned yet. It took a while to gather and understand. But what I understand today, is that the body is an amazing thing. All things in life occur for a reason, and all things in life have their own timing - be it marathons or be it children. Well, what about both? I think it's sorta humorous that I can claim I finished the Boston Marathon ~ injured, without much training, and pregnant? Yep. Our littlest one has got to be the youngest Boston finisher in history. It's still very early - the baby won't be born until late December, but the speed of growth is rapid. Although currently smaller than an apple seed, it's heart is forming, blood is circulating, and it's liver has begun to function.

Today, we're celebrating new life as we head into the future. I'll have to reschedule the fall marathon, yet hold that Boston Marathon in my mind, understanding that the human body really can accomplish amazing things.

Now what?

I'm bored.

That great thing I wanted to do all my life has a check in the box next to it.

My massage appointment was cancelled today, leaving me a whole day open. I drove to the kids' school to drop off a bicyle helmet 'cause they're doing cycling in PE. I ate the last brownie for breakfast, and had cold slabs of seasoned tofu for lunch (the microwave is broken). And no, I'm definetely not a vegetarian, I just happen to like tofu. I've done the laundry and my house is clean - enough. I should get something out of the freezer for dinner since we have nighttime company all week, and I could clean a child's bedroom who's having a playdate today - but that's not my job.

But it's sunny and it's springtime and I can't run. I could go outside, but today I feel like if I can't run, what's the point? It's like drinking decaf coffee or showering before you get in the pool.
I really want what's next.

I spent all morning reading blogs. And I've read and re-read the comments from others on the accomplishment of merely finishing a marathon that meant the world to me. It's humbling to remember that everyone else is out there with their own agendas and ambitions and enlightening to take part in those journeys.

What's next? My training plan is all penciled out for the Bellingham Bay Marathon in the fall. (If you look at the photo of the footbridge in the link - and you were to walk north another 100 meters, you'd come to another similar footbridge that my husband and I were married on :) I'm supposed to do the cross-country ski leg of the Ski to Sea Relay (cross-country skiier to downhill skiier to runner to road biker to canoe - 2 people - to mountain biker to sea kayaker) May 27th, but I'm not sure that's going to happen. I'd love to do a triathlon. I've always wanted to, and now I've actually learned to swim and I have a bike. I want to do an ironman. I want to do a half ironman. My husband has convinced me that for my body right now, it would be wise to try a sprint first. That's easier said than done - to try to schedule that in this summer is insane between camping and long camping and my husband's race schedule. Chelan Man might work - we'll be there both days anyway because my brother and my husband are both participating and on different days. I wonder what a splash n dash is? And to clarfiy: 'Camping' designates a weekend trip, long camping is the longer trip to the California Redwoods and all the stops enroute. We're thinking we can fit in the Redwoods, Crater Lake, Mt. Hood, and we're considering Mt. Shasta/Shasta Lk, the Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, the Lava Beds National Monument, and the Oregon Caves National Monument.

I long to see the world and go play in it, can you tell? And aside from all of those above desires, I'll just throw out there that I'd love to run NYC and London - but that's not a plan, yet - just a dream. I'd like to do Safaricom too, while I'm purging. And I might as well tell you about my Frito addiction. I eat them every day. Really. Mostly while watching healthy television programming late at night, but often for mid-morning lunch and sometimes they're a good breakfasttime treat or a dinner appetizer. In fact, I'm eating them right now. Like I said in the beginning - I'm bored. So, now I really oughtta go make myself a smoothie and email my swim coach about the triathlon training group.

Two questions of the day:
~Does boredom breed creativity or insanity?
~Who is 'Impey'?

Perspectives on Boston 2007

I don't think it has completely settled in with me just what I accomplished.

There are so many runners and so many stories and so many individual experiences --this one is only mine, and everybody else's is different.

The email alerts on severe weather that the BAA sent out days prior to the event were a little intense.
Saturday was calm in Boston - like the calm before the storm. Sunday morning it started to drizzle and a lady from somewhere in Texas described it as 'bone-chilling' cold. We drove up the coast of New Hampshire and into Maine - it was snowing up there while we were geocaching.

Sunday night the weather got crazy and the news media had a heyday. Every channel showed the storm system and hour by hour forecast of the tremendous power of the nor'easter with 40 mph sustained winds - gusts higher, many inches of rain, and temps near freezing. It became nerve-wracking figuring out how to layer for a race in such conditions. I heard one man interviewed who said you train in rain, you train in wind, you train in cold - but the likelihood that you'd train in all three is pretty slim.

By Monday morning the weather was pleasantly warmer - high 40's - and the predictions were that the rain would die down as the race started. Shuttling around all morning from the hotel to the state park to the start line to the athletes village and back to the start was messy.

This is a picture I took while sitting under the tents at the village - on a plastic garbage bag where I huddled on a 2 foot square patch for over an hour - wearing many many layers of polar fleece, goretex, and thankfully not the shoes I was to run in.

This picture is of the area between the two large tents at the village (the field at Hopkinton HS). It wasn't a fun place to cross.

Just as the race began, the rain stopped, it was warm enough to run in shorts, and for me, the wind never factored in. I actually felt great. I anticipated going out a little fast the first few miles with the downhill, but made sure I stayed really relaxed and comfortable. My first 5 miles were all in the 8:00 range, and that was fine, but I went conservatively after that and intentionally slowed my pace to what I thought I might accomplish in this long run. My next five miles averaged around 8:20's - perfect. I actually felt pretty good - all that cross-training has left me with relatively good conditioning - sorta.

At mile 9 my IT band started acting up. It was just mild at first - just sorta sore/tired feeling - but I could feel it - the same as that last long run I did in February. I hung tight for a little while, thinking one thing at a time - just get through the half. And I almost did that respectfully enough. I stopped for a couple of minutes - restroom stop and just to sorta gather myself. I started noticeably slowing down in there somewhere after the half and by miles 15 - 20 the pain just got worse and worse. I consider myself to have a pretty high pain threshold - (I've had 3 kids all natural childbirth :). But for me, IT pain gets pretty intense. It sorta feels like there's a big wide rubber band stretched along the lateral side of my knee and it's being pulled at the ends and plucked from the side. My gait become pretty awkward and my favoring my left knee was obviously creating a whole host of other issues for me. I walked every now and then - it was less painful and it gave me a break, and then I'd start again, only to go a little while and have it continue to get worse.
The Newton Hills approached. Having been a seasoned ITB runner, I know that uphills are easier than downhill. And truly, compared to the hills in the Pacific Northwest, I'm not sure what the worry is over those hills in Boston. The inclines, I'll call them, helped me tremendously. The uphill rolls felt better, but it got to the point that any kind of downhill decline had to be walked because I couldn't run anymore. So through the Newton Hills and continuing on. By mile 22, my pace was between 11 and 12 minutes. My right calf was doing all the work for my left knee, my quads were pretty pissed that I hadn't put in the appropriate miles in the months leading up to this, and my left ITBand was shot to hell. But I could still limp. Many a person would pass and touch my shoulder or say, "hey, you're doing great - you'll make it." I remember some bystander hollering to the masses, "Remember what race this is!" That comment stuck with me. This was the Boston Marathon. That thing I'd watched on TV when I was a kid and only dreamed about. That race I used to record every year and force my family to be silent while I watched it in awe and reverence. I spent many an emotional mile during this portion of the course - I cried every now and then when I wasn't holding back tears. It was hard to be walking at times when there were so many spectators lining the course and cheering and being supportive.
Around mile 23, I started feeling my other ITBand - it came on pretty suddenly to the point where I felt like I couldn't limp well anymore. I wondered what it would be like to come this far and have to stop. I never thought about what I might be doing to my legs by running on them. I just wanted to finish. Just before mile 24 I had some serious anxiety. It had gotten to the point where I'd stop to walk, and then I couldn't start to run again - my legs just wouldn't work right to complete the motion. I had a tense moment where I started hyperventilating and couldn't catch my breath. I actually considered the thought that I didn't know for sure if I could finish. Then I got mad. I'd decided way back somewhere that I didn't wanna come back and do this. I didn't wanna have to. And I didn't wanna live on, saying, "Yeah, I went to the Boston Marathon once - I never finished." I dug deep from somewhere within and started running. I told myself that I couldn't stop and walk at this point, because if I did, I knew inside that I wouldn't be able to continue. I blocked out everything else and focused on the thought that this was Boston, and I was going to be a finisher.

The finish line before the runners arrived.

I'm somewhere in there with that white space blanket on.

And so I was. I finished the Boston Marathon. According to the BAA, I ran a 4:07:13 - with an injury, and without really running much for 2 months. Aside from childbirth, I don't think I've willingly and intentionally put myself in that much pain in my entire life. It was truly a grueling experience. It helps to wear a Boston Marathon shirt around when you can't walk - people look at you funny, then they just smile. It's 4 days after the race and I can almost walk normally. The inability to walk made vacation highly interesting.
I'll have to post more later in tidbits on perhaps what I really learned from the experience - like I said in the beginning - I think I'm still figuring that out. There's a lot still in my head. I know that I'm tired. Mechanical airplane failures - switched flights - missed connections - airport food vouchers - shuttles that never arrive for some hole hotel the airline puts you up at in a city which will not be named somewhere in the middle of the country . . . a 6 hour flight that passengers can accomplish across the country took us 23 hours. And our lost luggage arrived on our doorstep late last night.
Vacation was amazing - but that'll have to be another post. And I've got loads of blog-reading to catch up on.

Marathon Weekend Plus

I feel that today I should be able to say something profound . . deep inspiration that I've learned from my training, what my goals and race plans are. But really, i have nothing. Seven weeks of injury recovery and mininmal running. Completey different exercise regime than I'm used to. A time change to adjust to. And a race forecast that changes by the hour. Yesterday it was forecast to be in the high thirties, raining, and 40+ mph winds. Lovely. How do you take all that into consideration and plan for a race?

I have a tattoo on my ankle. Maybe you've seen it - there's a picture on my first blog post. It's a kanji symbol for 'passion'. The reasons for it are multifaceted, but the basis is the way I want to live my life - with passion. I want to be able to take each moment, enjoy it completely, and live it to the fullest potential - to get the most out of my experiences and really live.

At this point in my life, Boston isn't just a race - it's an experience. It's the cleaning the house inside out for my parents to stay here and spending weeks making sure everything is in order for our children while we're gone. It's the picking and choosing of the hotels, airlines and rental car. The excitement of driving around Boston, then getting the hell out of the crowds when it's over and staying in the fancy villa in providence, rhode island. It's the walking barefoot on the beaches of the mightly Atlantic Ocean at Cape Code, with 40 mph winds in my face, and the funny little old couple who own the B&B we're staying at. It's eating at the hilarious restaurant in Boston Anne told me about that doesn't really fit tourists well. The many late nights I've spend looking up the geocaches that I'm going to log, and which travel bug I'm taking for a trip across the country. It's the checking out the coast along the New Hampshire seashore, and really being able to say I went through 4 states in 5 days. Coming from the west coast, you don't do that very often. (Our states are bigger. :)

So this big race - with the crappy weather and the unknown fitness level put to the test of a marathon? Fuel belt or pockets? One shirt or two? Shorts or tights? Gloves or not? Gatorade or water? Cliff shots or gu? Breakfast or not? I have no idea, really. I've gone through so many race scenarious in my mind. I know I want to start out conservatively the first several miles. (But if I'm freezing cold, I might just whip through the whole course really fast to keep warm.) After those first downhill miles, if I feel good, I'll take it up half a notch - maybe just a quarter notch - at it's my secret what a notch really is. At the halfway point, I'll gauge how I'm doing and make a pace judgement again. And if I'm still running by mile 19, I'm gonna go like hell. My PR is 3:25:17 - Vancouver, BC, 1994. My second fastest was Portland, OR last October with a 3:34:05. My slowest was Seattle, WA 1996 - 4 and a quarter hours, I believe. This marathon is # 9 for me. Boy, it'd be great to run really fast, and I know exactly the race I'd need to run and the splits I'd need to have. But come Monday, I truly think I'd be happy somewhere between 3:45 and 4:00. I think I need to slow down and enjoy this one - and really focus on actually surviving it until the finish line. There are so many factors going into this one, that sometimes you need to leave them all behind on the starting line, and when the gun goes of - just run.

Have an excellent weekend.
-# 12892 (wave 2)

Pace Adjustments

Running too fast is how I injured myself, so it would seem logical to slow down. For a few weeks I barely ran at all, then I only allowed myself to run on the track or the treadmill. The treadmill was safe - I could set the pace and not cheat. The track . . . well, that just got me excited. Running on a brand new track in the springtime . . . the smell of it warming up after a light rain . . . coming around the last corner and down the straightaway. I just couldn't hold it in. And then sometimes other people show up at the track - and I just can't help myself and pretend it's a race. I don't think they ever know the difference - I just look like the average runner with headphones, but inside I'm scheming and unintentionally getting in interval workouts. Then I go back to the treadmill so I can slow down, and I find myself looking in the mirror for other people on treadmills to race. I know, I'm sick. I've just gotten really bored and antsy. I actually allowed myself to incline the treadmill once to feel a hill, and I've allowed myself to go downhill a few times. I figure that's good training for the first 5 miles of Boston. I often wonder if other people at the gym think I'm cheating my run and making it easy by going downhill. Maybe they don't notice.

I attempted to create some ways to slow down my pace last week. I had two very exciting training days. First, I now have an adjustment on my cell phone plan that will allow me to email my photos. So I took my phone to the track to practice taking pictures with it while I was running. I mean, why have it be a new thing out on the marathon course, and have it be impactive? I had to practice, right? But it didn't slow me down. Instinctively, I knew I had slowed down to take a picture, so I'd speed up again. My laps were on pace like clockwork - one 400 after another. And I'm proud to say that I'm up to 7 miles at a time. :) I haven't actually looked at my photos, but I know how many I can take so I can pace my camera-taking during the marathon.

But I found another way to slow myself down. I know it was naughty. My IT bands would probably be much safer on flat surfaces. But what would you do on a day like this?

Initially I was just sneakin' out to run in the sunshine - the mountains and the water were calling to me. I figured the concrete bike path is pancake flat and the dirt path is nice and soft, so I'd be just fine. Then I discovered it was low tide and I couldn't resist the beach - that soft sand and the waves breaking and the seagull cries . . .

So it was a little slanted, but if I came back the same way I got the slant on both sides, right? And I had my camera to slow me down - that's supposed to be a good thing - not going too fast. And then my terrain changed a little bit - that's where the naughty part comes in. Sometimes a week before an important race you shouldn't take risks, but sometimes you just have to live a little.

I was able to slow down that too fast pace by a whole two minutes! And I had a most excellent and uplifting run. Then I went back to the track and I'm still stuck on that quicker pace. But the way I figure, with lifting three days a week, yoga, massive stretching, water running and swimming - I've only gotten stronger and I haven't lost any conditioning - endurance, maybe - but my strength feels really great when I'm out running. So that's my excuse for not slowing down.

And??? I have NO PAIN when I'm running! I know it might come back at any moment but it's still exciting. I'm sorta looking forward to 'post-race' training because I do feel really strong and I can't wait to restructure my training and set some goals for what I want to do next. My swim coach has been a huge help and I'm feeling really comfortable with my stroke - thinking about all of those summer triathlons looming out there . . . but I gotta wait. It's like I have BB time and AB time. Before Boston and After Boston. I gotta reign myself in and do one thing at a time.

Happy Easter!

My fascinating fact about these Easter Eggs:
We died them with three things: purple cabbage, beets, and turmeric. (and vinegar and water)
Turmeric dye is yellow, beet dye is deep pink, and purple cabbage dye looks plum purple but the eggs come out blue. You mix colors like you learned when you were in preschool and you get new colors. The really odd thing, though - when you mix the cabbage dye (purple) and the turmeric dye (yellow) you get this glass of orange liquid. When you put an egg in it, it comes out green. This was truly the highlight of my Easter.

Honest Thoughts

Two weeks and counting 'til the Boston Marathon.

I've run far too many laps around the track lately - forever running in circles provokes all sorts of contemplation:

~ why does it take runners 45 minutes to go a half mile from the athlete's village to the starting line?
~ is it improper etiquette to wear a jacket you buy at a race expo if you don't finish the race?
~ i've never not finished a marathon . . . what if?
~ should i go out of my way to buy a smaller foam roller that will fit in my carry on, or should i just get out the bread knife and saw the one i have in half?
~ which old raggety running shirt should i pack to throw off somewhere in Hopkinton?
~ is 4 states enough to drive through in 5 days, or should we try 5 for 5?
~ will there be a sunrise that morning at the Cape, or will it be cloudy?
~ at which mile mark will my ITB start feeling like a rubber band pulled too tight?
~ what will Heartbreak Hill feel like after 49 days of not running any hills?
~ how much memory do i need in my camera for mid-race photo opportunities?
~ will vitamin 'I' get crumbly in my pocket if i don't put it in a ziplock?
~ for my pre-race meal, should i have roasted garlic or spicy chicken wings?

All in a Day's Work

Okay, so the PT said I could have the gingerbread boy use a rolling pin to massage my ITB, but I think I'll stick to my foam roller from now on.

Does competition really breed success?

As a runner for most of my life, this has long been one of my favorite quotes:

"Beating the competition is relatively easy, but beating yourself is a never-ending commitment."

I could never really remember where it came from, or who to give credit to, until I just found this on a runner's blog. I think my brother had that poster on his wall when I was a kid. I remember cutting out the words from somewhere - maybe the poster or a magazine ad, and taking them with me to college to post on a bulletin board. I still have them in a file somewhere. I still don't know who to give credit to for writing it - someone at Nike has had a huge impact on my life. Those words meant something when my brother would quote them in a letter or recite them while we were out on a run - wise advice from an inspirational sibling. Those words taught me to look within from beginning to end, no matter what the rest of the field was doing. It's you that you go home with at the end of the day, and you that you need to feel happy with. It's your own reality that you live with.

I've struggled recently with my title statement - the idea of competition breeding success. It feels like that's what the world says, until I sit back and remember that success lies within. I'd have to better define success as truly defining who you are and being able to live to that potential to the best of your ability.

My recent quandary? Registering the oldest child for middle school. Fortunately in life, you have the power of decision, and the power to choose. In the Emerald City, the choices are baffling. We live in an area where the public school system is called a 'choice' district - really meaning - you choose. Often, in other places, your schooling is decided by residence or by income. Surely, those things factor in here is well. It could range anywhere from home-schooling to the private, elite schools. The public school system here allows you to choose from any school in the district - residence area is a priority, not a requirement. Within this public system, free to the common tax-paying citizen - are a myriad of selections: the neighborhood school, the advanced academic placement school, the alternative school, the athletic school, the rich school, the poor school, the multilingual school, the expeditionary model, the outdoor education school, the school for the social elite . . .

Which one is best for our child?
If competition were to breed success, it would follow that our child should be placed in a school with the utmost academic standards. Perhaps the choice should be a school with the wealthy in attendance to be able to better fund extra opportunites, furnishings, buildings, learning materials.

But then the reminder - competition does breed success - but that competition lies within - being true to who you are and what you can become with that self. And true success can only be measured in the eyes of the beholder. So - a school with a place that will allow a child to compete with oneself would then become the goal. It would have to be a place that mimics that core value, and brings out the best of the whole person in that child - academically, emotionally, physically, spiritually, etc. As parents, making that decision for an 11-year-old child, is perhaps the most difficult decision we've had to make.

The rest of the story becomes long and political - with school visits, tours, application dates and times, waiting lists, priorities. We'll know results in early April, but they might not be finalized until August. But we did find that school. It just felt right more than anything, and it blew us away. The process really forced me to look at our children and who they really are, and how to bring out their personalities and motivate them. I'll post more on the school in detail when we find out if she got in or got put on the waiting list.

On running notes - the quote has put things in perspective for me today. Running is all about how I interpret it for myself on a given day. Running Boston with an injury will be interesting. It's still day to day right now with how my legs feel, but I still intend to make the most of the experience. And I believe I am in Wave #2, -not officially, but by looking at my bib number on the website. Considering my slower race with an injury, that's a good thing at this point, and it'll force me to relax and enjoy it.

treading water

Somehow I'm WAY behind in blogging, and can't fit in the time to write lately. I think about it all the time - think about all the things I'd like to blog about - zillions of topics stored up in my brain that come out when I'm exercising - lost in thought.

A couple of quick responses to things without having to find the right places to send them (multitasking):

D - thanks for checking . . . I think I get self-absorbed sometimes and forget to realize there are other people out there who take the time . .
Katy - jumprope club is like an after-school sport (remember, my kids go to an alternative school). At first we thought it was sorta hokey, then saw how amazing it is for conditioning, how much our child loves it, and what it does for her confidence.
- the postcards were aweswome and hilarious! - I'm not sure which one of us liked them the most
Anne - as far as the commute between the Cape and Hopkinton - we're actually staying in town before the race, and the Cape is after. Thanks tons for the eating out tips - Durgin Park sounds like a hoot!
Robin - you're oatmeal/egg concoction is fabulous!

And to everyone who reads and/or comments on my posts: You're all truly an inspiration. I get busy with my kids and feel guilty taking the time on the computer. Then I read posts and comments from all of you guys and remember what an amazing support system running and blogging is. It blows my mind how we can all connect through simple technology.

My journey to Boston and recovering from ITBS has taken me on an interesting journey. I've run exactly eight times in the last three weeks - either on the treadmill or the track. My longest run was 6 miles. I've been lifting weights - planning to train through this marathon instead of backing off too much. I've done yoga, I've been swimming, and I tried bike riding - that was a mistake - it set me back another week when I was feeling really well. Massive amounts of stretching and my foam roller have been the critical factors for me. I get really tired of it all, and I feel like I just wanna head out the door and fly - go for miles and miles on an early morning with no one around. It's not gonna happen yet. My husband is busy with training plans and schedules and I get jealous - it wouldn't be wise for me to get over-zealous and plan until I heal.

But what has really come out of all of this, is this pool thing. I like water. I can swim around and play. We do the beach a lot in the summer, and take the kids to the pool. But swim laps? It's not my greatest feature. The whole face underwater thing makes me nervous. And having to cope with another body in the same lane in the pool is a daunting task. Any time I've had to do pool time was because of an injury and the need for cross-training. I usually water-run, use a kick board, or create my own version of a side stroke. But really those things don't equate to the running I'm missing when I'm supposed to be training for what I consider to be a big marathon. So I needed to swim. Scary. My husband learned how. Last summer he overcame childhood near-drowning issues, faced the water head-on, and did his first tri. Now he's training for a half-ironman. With that inspiration, I figured I needed to overcome my fear. I really had no excuse.

I made myself talk to a swim coach about a class. Didn't register. Just talked to him. He said I really ought to be able to swim laps in order to take the class. I surfed the internet for stroke techniques (creative, don't you think?), then went to the pool. I swam for 45 minutes. Somehow, between the frustration of being able to run marathons and not swim, or being forced to take a beginner class if I couldn't do laps, something just clicked. At first I had to keep stopping to fiddle with my goggles, or breathe for a second because I was going too fast and thought that if I slowed down I would sink. I wrote down 800 meters in my training log. I wasn't until several days later that I figured out I swam 1600 meters. Perhaps it's a math class I should be enrolling in, but today I signed up for the swim class. I still can't allow myself to plan training until after Boston, but maybe there'll be a tri this summer mixed in with that running I'm looking forward to.

Red Wine and Chocolate

Oh, where HAVE I been, and what am I here to say?
(the red wine is gone - I just poured the last glass, and I could care less about the chocolate)

The world is a much bigger place than just me.

It's 5 and 1/2 weeks 'til Boston - the marathon of my dreams - and I'm having ITB issues. It's my own damn fault. It felt so good running so fast and far - until I ran my 17 miler and could barely walk by the end - literally. I should've known better. It's just like when you go out fast in a race, and you do it every damn time, and you know better. I got excited. And I guess I can still be excited at the thought that I conditioned myself to the point of maintaining a fast pace over a good distance. I'm capable of it. I proved it. Perhaps I needed to bottle it up and save it. I've run twice in the last two weeks - 3 miles each time. I'm done wallowing in my self-pity of injury and am in maintenance mode (icing, stretching, strength training up the ying-yang, swimming, arnica, glucosamine . . ) until Boston - then I'll reconvene with my brain and assess the situation.

I haven't wanted to blog. I haven't really wanted to talk about it or write about it at all. But then when I was at the gym there was this guy. Sometimes in life you need people to shake you out of your misery. This guy is always at the gym. He's probably around 75-80 years old. He always has on navy blue sweat pants and a white ribbed tank top. Sometimes he's on the bikes, sometimes lifting weights or on the rowing machine. He smiles and he talks to a few people, but he's fairly quiet. He's there to exercise. I doubt he's training for an ultra. I don't think he's into how sculpted his muscles are. I know he's not there for the social life. I'm pretty sure he's not breaking any records. But he's always there. He's there to take care of himself - to do what makes him happy.

I could write all night about how this little old man and my self-pity are connected, but I think it's as simple as my previous statement. The world is a bigger place than just me. In the long run, what's the big deal if I'm injured? I'm taking care of it, doing what I can. I can continue to do what makes me happy and healthy and move on. There is so much to be said of focusing outward instead of just focusing inward. And perhaps blogging about it doesn't just do something for me, maybe it will have an affect on somebody, somewhere else. The world is a bigger place.

The Fine Line

What to do, what to do . .

I remember when I was in junior college, our track team wore neon yellow t-shirts with a bright pink Nike slogan: Eat right, get lots of sleep, drink plenty of fluids, . . and go like hell!

We were conference champions that year, and I competed in 4 different events.
You just showed up for practice and did what the coach said.
I wish it were still so easy.

Now I design my own training plans, workouts, races, and nutrition. There are so many variables to factor in to know if I should be doing something different. I read a lot of training plans and updates on theories. Way back when, I received a college degree in Exercise Science, so I know a little about how my body adapts to training. I follow the 'no more than 10 percent' increase in training rule. I run the right amount of long runs before a marathon. I know I'm supposed to strength train in the off-season and stretch all the time.

My latest dilemma is pace. I typically run comfortably at around 8:30 pace - an average. It goes up and down. I know my long runs are slower and my speed and pace workouts are faster. What happens, though, when you have a week and you all of a sudden feel comfortable running faster? I know when I start out a marathon and it feels good to run faster and go with the crowd, that I'll end up paying for it later. So, in training, is it a mistake to be running faster if it feels good? How do you know if your conditioning level has simply improved, and that's why you're running faster. What if it feels really slow to run at the pace you were scheduled to run at? I'm talking - that comfortable 8:30 pace went down to under 8:00 this week - all week - culminating in my 10 miler at 7:52 pace. I head out, telling myself, "okay, slow . . . . " thinking that an easy 9:00 minute pace would be good for me, and slow and comfortable ends up at 8:00 minute pace, and then I pick it up.

That's all great and wonderful - I should be thrilled running so fast - in the back of my head I imagine how fast my next race could be. But my smart side says it's too fast too soon. So I took yesterday off. It's gonna screw up my mileage for the week, but I had to listen to my gut. And my legs don't feel so fresh. I know right there that it's obvious I should slow down - if I don't feel fresh - but then again, there are parts of any training plan when you are building or doing speedwork, and you don't always feel fresh. And going slower felt - well - slow. I even tried to do it on the track and pace it out really slow, and I went too fast. If I look at it logistically, it'd be like saying I did tempo runs all week. Bad news for injuries. But my question still remains - how do you know when your fitness level improves and you can train faster and not worry about the ramifications?

Abstracts of Daily Life

It seems like my posts are so sporadic lately - I have a hard time keeping up with the blur of life, and no time to sort my thoughts into decent writing. I haven't a clue what I've been spending my time doing. I've been running. I'm around 40 mpw right now - it's pretty low mileage for marathon running, but that's what works for me. I still have most of my long runs ahead of me leading up to Boston. My last couple have been hilarious. The flu has been rampant here lately - in many forms and varieties. I probably shouldn't have gone for that long run a couple of weeks ago when I was sick, but I'm a runner, what can I say? When you run in the city, you usually rely on park restrooms - and I found out during that run that many of them were closed for the season. (They turn off the drinking fountains in the winter too, so the pipes don't freeze.) Nice. I ended up walking my last 2 miles that day - didn't feel so good. I got smarter last Sunday. I planned my route to go past bigger parks, where I knew the restrooms wouldn't be closed. Lo & behold, I approached one and the sign said it was closed due to vandalism. Great. But, alas, there was a port-a-potty available for use. My new words of wisdom: Don't take a hydration pack into a port-a-potty. I took such good care to hold on to the pack, but when the hose with the mouthpiece drooped and hit the floor . . . yeah, I didn't hydrate too well after that.

I ate goat meat on Wednesday. Perhaps that statement makes it obvious that I'm not a vegetarian. I'm a believer that you eat what's available. On Wednesday, it was goat meat. We went to an Indian cafe/restaurant for lunch and they had Himalayan cuisine as a portion of the menu. So I had goat. With spicy pickle. I'm still not quite sure what that was - it got lost in the translation with the person that brought it to me, but it was tasty. It was doubly cool sitting there eating with a picture of Mt. Everest on the wall nearby. Then we went to an amazing art preview for a Chinese exhibit that was to open the following day. It was interesting to go from India to the Himalayas to China all in one afternoon. It made me realize how big the world is, and how badly I'd love to wander through it and explore.

The most fascinating thing in our house this week is xmradio. We have it in the car, and that'll be most excellent on road trips, of which we are currently planning for spring and summer. Online, xmradio is a whole different ballgame. The one-hit-wonder station is hilarious. Most of all, though, I've discovered, to my children's great dismay, that I can listen to 80's music all the time! Our 6-year-old switched stations on me right in between the Pretenders and Yes the other day. I'll just have to teach the munchkins about quality music. :)

Another big event in our home. New family members. It's been a long time coming, and no I'm not pregnant and we're not adopting or hosting foster or exchange children. The child was told it would only happen if the bedroom was kept clean for an entire month. She'd been told this for a couple of years, and it finally happened. So now we have "Yazhi" - Navajo for 'little one'. And along with Yazhi came the mealworms and the crickets. The mealworms are nasty. I have issues - really big issues with wormy things. I don't allow them inside or in my refrigerator, and I think we are going to get rid of them altogether. The crickets are a whole new world. They are a pet, a food source, music, a source of entertainment and curiosity all rolled into one. Truly, I think they are like a toy for my husband. They keep him up at night, no matter where in the house we try to hide them. They escape no matter how secure we keep the cage. But it's truly amazing to put them into the big glass tank and watch the gecko hunt them down and eat them in one bite - four of them in a row. I don't know where she puts them, she's so tiny and the long-legged hopping things are as big as her head.

Yazhi


Tomorrow ends basketball season for child #2. Next week is break with no school, and then we head toward spring. Am I ready for that? Kid # 1 has chess club and girls only indoor soccer, kid #2 has co-ed indoor soccer, and kid # 3 has jumprope club. We are currently holding a limit there at that amount of activities - when you add up school and homework, the scheduling takes a toll as we head into a weekend of training for my husband and I, and getnout and having fun with the kids.



While I sort through my thoughts and find an enlightening post for next time, I'll end this one with a token of hope for most bloggers in the United States. Spring is coming. I promise. Somehow, some way, it happens every year without fail. Believe in it.

The Rules of Degrees

I remember having a conversation with my dad years ago, and I think about it often as the seasons start to change. We were discussing what to wear running during different types of weather and both seemed to adhere to an unwritten set of rules.

The Rules:
(in degrees fahrenheit, because the USA refuses to conform to the rest of the world)

80° and above - you really should've gotten up and run at sunrise when it was cooler
70° - 80° shorts and a tank top - great for track workouts, not long runs
60° - 70° perfect running weather - shorts and a t-shirt
50° - 60° shorts, but long-sleeves - you'll inevitably roll 'em up, but if it's windy or rainy . .
40° - 50° tights and long sleeves - deceivably chilly, even if it's sunny
30° - 40° tights, long-sleeves over or under short sleeves, gloves, hat optional, wool socks -
unless you want numb feet the first half of your run
20° - 30° tights, short sleeves, long sleeves, gloves, hat, smart-wool socks
below 20° (doesn't happen that often here) I'd add a sweatshirt to everything else and be amazed
at the lack of sweat when I was finished.

So, really - my point? I wore shorts when I went running today!!! It's a MIRACLE! My dearest apologies to the rest of the country, where winter still isn't over, but I finally have hope. I'm so burnt out on depressing winter weather, rain, snow, wind, ice, cold temps, floods, power outages . . . hmmm, was there more?

It was 12° in Cape Cod, Massachussetts today. Why do I know that? Because the guy at the B&B out there told my husband when he booked a night in April. Ahhh, yes - the dreary days of winter provoke one to plan vacations. Two nights in Boston, because there is some silly marathon I'm supposed to run. Some random hotel, because really, I'm there to run a race, buy a cool jacket at some expo, eat some food at Faneuil Hall, and drive up the New Hampshire and Maine Coastline. Then a night in a fancy place in Providence, RI - because after all that runnin' I'll need some quality Itlalian food in little Italy and a soak in the jetted tub at a lovely euro-nouveau hotel. And then a lovely suite at a B&B within walking distance of the ocean in Cape Cod - complete with a fireplace. And my tide table shows me low tide at sunrise on the east coast that day. Perfect for some time to stretch the legs . . . Life is good. I hope winter is over soon.

News from Boston - good or bad?

Change in life is necessary, otherwise it would become stagnant and boring and there would be no growth. I get that. But sometimes when some things change, I don't get it.

Perhaps this is old news for some, or it's already been spread across someone else's blog, or on a newspaper article is some other city. But this news is new news for me. Here is what it reads:

NEW for 2007: The 2007 Boston Marathon will utilize a two-wave start with the fastest 10, 000 qualifiers starting at 10:00 a.m. followed by the rest of the field at 10:30 am.

I have issues with this. I knew the time had changed from the legendary afternoon race to a new mid-morning start. If you think about being out on the course, and the things you see and hear, and run past - the 'stuff' that's legendary of the Boston Marathon, a 2-hour earlier race is actually a big deal. It'll be different out there. So, okay. Life changes. But the 2-wave thing really gets me. Boston is prestigious, historical, competitive, expensive . . . you could insert millions of adjectives. It's an honor to qualify and be allowed a chance to run. It takes a lot of hard work. It becomes about reaching goals and lifelong dreams. So then, you qualify. You meet your goals, you 'get there', you've done your work . . . and you get placed in wave 2 with the 'rest of the field'. What the heck is with that? Is that the real race? The real Boston? The race that makes all your dreams come true? Or is that just the second wave, after the crowds are done watching, and the results are done being scored. I mean, it's Boston, people work a lifetime to get there, and some people never have any hope of being one of 'the fastest 10,000 qualifiers'. Shouldn't they still get to run the same race as everyone else? Starting corrals will be different, media focus will be different, crowds and trains and parking will be different. Think how many more men than women will be in that first wave. It'd be one thing if they told you up front that it was like the Olympic Trials and there was an 'A' qualifying standard and a 'B' qualifying standard. But maybe I just missed that fine print somewhere.

To clarify . . I did qualify for Boston, and I did register. I could've chosen one of 3 marathon times to use for my 'qualifying' time. I chose to use one of my slower times, and save my faster Portland time because due to the date I ran that one, I could use it for Boston 2008 - to run the race again, or in case I get injured this year. The 'news' article that I reproduced above actually goes on to state that you can update your registration with a faster qualifying time until March 1st. So, my dilemma has become whether or not to use a time that is 10 minutes faster, and increase my chances to be in that first 10, 000 wave. In reality, I'm not going to want to go another year after this. I'd rather go run London or Eugene, OR. Why not submit the faster time, and let chips fall where they may. But I'm still mad. Not just for my own sake, but for the whole second half of the Boston field whether I'm in that group or not. It's just not Boston.

Traffic

The sun came out today. I know that doesn't seem like a very bold statement, but after the gloomy weather lately, a little sunshine went a long way today. I was out on my run, waiting to cross at a pretty busy intersection. The cars on my right, were making a left turn from the turn lane onto the street I was waiting to cross. The green arrow turned to yellow, then red. My crosswalk signal turned green, so I went. I knew damn good and well that there was still a car turning - two of them in fact. Because it's a busy intersection, the first of those cars made it just past the crosswalk before traffic in front of it came to a stop, and it had to stop. Thus, the second car had to stop right at the crosswalk. Irritatedly, I put my arms up, as if to say, "Hello? Stoplight's red? Crosswalk? What were ya' thinkin' dude?" I laughed when I heard a car honk as I continued on my way, passing a bicyclist coming from the other direction. Then I promptly heard the cyclist respond to the driver, "Hey! Ya' dummy!" I laughed out loud so hard I had to stop running for a sec and catch my breath. Cyclists rule. I don't think I've ever heard a grown man call another grown man a 'dummy'. Every time I think about it I laugh again.

Then I got another half mile down the sidewalk and these two little toddlers were out with their vehicles. I think one was pushing a plastic lawnmower, the other was on a yellow plastic dumptruck. The first put out his hand to stop me like a traffic cop. He was making sure the sidewalk was safe for his friend to go by. See, so you know they learn all about traffic safetly when they're young, why do they forget it all when they grow up?

Skyward

Shoshone Falls, near Twin Falls, Idaho

I'm always a fan of things in the sky -

• At home, we affectionately refer to the Seattle cloudcover as Cumulus Abundus.
• My husband proposed to me under an Autumn sky and our youngest child is named after a star in the Orion constellation we often watched out on evening walks back when we were dating.
• I can recall sitting out on lawn chairs in the middle of the night during winter a couple of years back to watch the Aurora Borealis, and dragging a sleepy child out of bed to see it.
• Last week we took the binoculars out to glimpse Comet McNaught against a magnificent winter sunset.
• I love to watch the seagulls gliding and soaring on the wind high in the sky.
• I love the snowflakes that fall like glitter, I love the smell of fresh raindrops, I love the falling leaves, and I love the summer sun.
• Way back when I decided to write this post, I saw rainbows 4 days in a row (granted we have a lot of rain here in the Emerald City), but it was unusual, like some sort of sign that I should pay attention to.

And so . . . rainbows. It just makes sense that I'd wonder in awe about them - I always have. The fact that I have 3 little girls seems to amplify that somehow, and add something tender to my affection for rainbows.

I've often claimed that I've driven through the end of the rainbow, and have read accounts of others doing so. But it isn't possible, not really. I've done my research to make sure. And yet, who am I to let someone else dictate what is or isn't possible in my life? Things in the sky have a way of making me feel small sometimes, but not in a belittling way - more like I'm a small part of something so big it's thrilling to even try to comprehend.


Lots of things usually come up when you talk about rainbows. How many colors are there really, and is it purple or indigo? In your head you start humming the tune to 'Over the Rainbow' or 'The Rainbow Connection'. I know, it makes you feel sorta silly and kinda girly, but here's some trivia for you:
'Over the Rainbow' was first produced in the late 1930's (lyrics by EY Harburg, music by Harold Arlen). It became a symbol of home for US soldiers during WWII, and it tops the Songs of the Century List created by the Recording Industry Association of America. By my very modest estimates, it's been redone by about 125 artists (but in reality, more than double that) since way back when Dorothy (Judy Garland) sang it in the Wizard of Oz. 'The Rainbow Connection'
(written by Paul Williams & Kenneth Ascher) is a little more modern and makes you feel a little cooler, a little more hip, right? I mean, after all, that one's been remade by the Dixie Chicks, Jason Mraz, Willie Nelson, Kenny Loggins, Sarah McLachlan . . oh, and about 40 others. But guess who's credited with the original version? None other than Kermit the Frog for the Muppet Movie in 1979. That song received both oscar nominations and golden globe nominations in 1979 and was a huge radio hit. Both songs have been credited with a symbolism for the youth of their generation: a promise of hopes and fulfilling dreams amidst a yearning for what promises might lie ahead; a desire for something else, something better, something more satisfying.

So what's in a real rainbow? If you don't know, a rainbow is caused by rays of light that are bent as they enter a water droplet, and when they are refracted (bounced back the other direction), the light is separated into a color spectrum. By definition, a rainbow does not actually exist. It is considered merely an optical phenomenon seen only from the position of the observer. It's position is dictated by the position of the sun in relation to water droplets in the air, and the point of the observer. More specifically, "The position of a rainbow in the sky is always in the opposite direction of the Sun with respect to the observer. The bow is centered on the shadow of the observer's head, or more exactly at the antisolar point (which is below the horizon during the daytime), appearing at an angle of approximately 40°–42° to the line between the observer's head and its shadow." (wikipedia)
Scientifically you cannot reach the end of a rainbow. No two people see the exact same rainbow because they are at different vantage points. You can see the end of a rainbow from afar, and I've wondered so many what if's . . . if a cloud moved over the sun, and bent the sun rays at a different angle and they refracted and reflected through the curvature of the raindrops just at the moment you were moving toward the rainbow, could you reach it? . . . but it gets complex and there's still the laws of physics to contend with.

Kind of a funny thing - a rainbow is beautiful, colorful, isn't really there, and you can never reach it. Sort of an alluring fantasy, isn't it? But sort of like human nature in life. We seem to always wonder what's on the other side, what's out there, what more is there? How do we reach ultimate bliss and beauty in our lives? And yet, what we see, isn't the same as what anyone else sees. And tangibly, it doesn't exist at all. What one person perceives as eternal happiness, another person might not even notice.

Rainbows make me think, and they make me feel, and they leave me with a continuously unsolved mystery. For me, those are the important things in life. But that's me, and I suppose it's gotta be different for everyone else, doesn't it? A couple last notes . . if you've never heard Israel Kamakawiw'ole's version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful world, now would be a good time to listen (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2A2Jt4WOxN8) - it's amazing. And I can't seem to find where this quote came from, but is sure makes a lot of sense:
"We must each paint our rainbow from the colors we've been given."

Tao or Taos?

I'm gonna move - to Taos, New Mexico. Oh, wait, that was just a wishful dream. When you live in a place that boasts 2 of the wettest months ever on record within the last year, and both of those months have been in the winter when the average day brings only 8 hourse of daylight and 16 hours of darkness, what else should one hope for? The temperature ranges from a 35 degree low to a 45 degree high. Not really cold enough for the thrill of snow, and not warm enough for much else. The constant forecast is partly cloudy with a chance of meatballs. Most days I live in smartwools, polar fleece, and a hat.

Rewind.

December 21st brought the winter solstice which means a gradual 6-month increase in daylight hours. Then Christmas happened and we went on vacation. Probably the best way to sum up vacation would be to link you to my getnout buddy's post to see the photographs. I'd have to say the highlights for me were: skiing up Thompson Ridge, learning and loving skate skis, seeing the glorious pink sunrises light up the sky and the hills across the valley from the cabin every morning, snowshoeing up to the top of Patterson Mountain - it was like being on top of the world, and the peacefulness of my solo showshoe through the cemetery down the road.

Running? Did I do that? Not really unless you count chasing my husband 1,000 ft. straight down Patterson Mtn. through 3 feet of snow, wearing snowshoes. It was sorta like trail running and I laughed most of the way down. Since December 24th, my only run has been Wednesday (2 days ago). I had to force the Wednesday run - all 3.6 miles of it - the missing .4 mile was when I decided it was much more enjoyable to walk along the beach and track the waves from the passing tanker as they started way out in the bay and finally crashed on shore.

I feel compelled to discuss the new year because - well, it's a new year - at least until Chinese New Year February 18th - and then it's all sort of confusing. My year has begun in sort of an awkard way. I rely a lot on technology in my life. My special order 'hard to find' earphones for my ipod have broken, our stereo isn't working very well, and my computer crashes right now after about 5 minutes of having any browser or any document open. No itunes, no net surfing, no blogging unless I am quick or hijack my husband's laptop. Life is quieter without music. Part of me wonders if it's like a message to me to focus on the quiet and solitude and theat there is something for me to learn there. I've been really into books on naturalists lately. I'm currently reading a book I borrowed from a friend on John Muir (a huge idol of mine since I was about 12 years old). I have another book that I had on reserve from the library - Silence and Solitude: Yellowstone's Winter Wilderness by Tom Murphy. The photos leave me in true amazement. It's ironic that at a time when I'm focusing on solitude, simplicity, and nature, that all of my technology toys should break.

I've long been pondering the idea of what to be when I grow up and find myself with an internal struggle for the current time in my life. I have a love of running - of the drive, the power, the endorphins, the struggle, the sweat, the goals, the times . . . I have a passion for nature - for reading and writing about it, but moreso for existing in it, and photographing it to freeze the moment for eternity - to always enjoy the beauty and peace from that given moment.

I love both of these things, but I feel that in my world, they are opposite extremes, and if I lean too far one direction, I'll lose the other. Thus, I sit in the middle and don't give my whole self to either one. I feel like if I go crazy and really train to my ability that I'll lose the passive side of myself - the nature lover. And I feel that if I relax and take time capturing the stillness of nature, that I'll slow down too much and lose sight of the ambitions of running. I know these thoughts might seem illogical - but they're how I feel. My resolutions for the new year are to find a balance somewhere within myself and allow myself to live all of what I love, right from the heart, every single day.

And I want to learn to play chess . . it's a long story with my daughter - sort of a deal someone suggested we make - that if she learned to type on a qwerty keyboard with proper finger positions instead of the hunt and peck method, then I would finally learn to play a game that she loves.

Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year

Snowflakes in the air
Sparkling glitter from the sky
Magic all around

(the haiku I wrote for the front of our Christmas card this year - complete with periwinkle blue snowflakes on white glitter paper, inspired by Haiku Thursdays)

The season had finally come and gone, and the last day is winding down. Amidst all the chaos, I've had this photo on my desktop for the last several weeks. It has put me at peace and made me feel like there were always candles burning with warmth and hope. As for now, we're packing skis and the dog and heading out very early to head over to the cabin, hoping to stay ahead of the approaching snow storm. I'm looking forward to snowdrifts and skiing, hot cocoa and books by the fire, deer out wandering in the evening, and wondering if I'll get in a run the whole week. It's been a fun and zany holiday season, and I'm looking forward to returning to a little bit of normalcy and catching up on missed blog time when the kids go back to school. I still have a post to write on rainbows, one on 'cause and effect', and an apology to my male runner friends who I called 'extras' in my last post. (I've had a lot of thinking time during my 5 am runs these past couple of weeks.) Hope you and yours have had a great holiday season ~ Be Safe, and Have an Excellent New Years! See ya' next year! -Ginger

12k's of Christmas

I was sorely reminded on my run this morning, that "oh yeah, i ran a race on sunday". (if i can be so brave as to call it that)

I rememeber getting up on time, and it was really cold and I could only find one of my wool running socks. The other has been missing for a few weeks, but I thought maybe a miracle would happen - no such luck. We left later than we'd planned - we have three kids and it was cold and early and their winter vacation to sleep in. No worries. I didn't really train for this race. I honestly wanted to do it for what's in the picture - the shirt. I figure I can go to the store and buy a cheesy holiday shirt, or I can pay the same money and go for a run. I saw the logo a long time ago and registered 'cause I like the artwork on the shirts. Pretty funny.

So we finally get to the race and park and pick up my race number and I have about 5 minutes 'til the start - so much for a warm-up. And so much for the porta-potty line. No stress, I mean it when I say I didn't train for this one - I've been running about 20 miles a week, no speedwork. With everything from flooding to ice and snow to wind and power outages - my schedule and the school cancellations have been crazy. So now a week before the big holiday and then a week skiing - maybe I'll train next year. hehehe

Okay, this race I did . . . I got into the start corral - freezing - I don't know how Danielle runs in MN - her last race post said there were 5,000 runners and it was 10 degrees and windy at the start. It was probably only around 30 degrees for my race. A couple of women jumped into the corral next to me and one said to the other, "try to blend in". They laughed - obviously not your typical runners, just out for a holiday run, having no idea what they were getting themselves into - they were ooh-ing and aah-ing over my nifty tech-fabric shirt I had on. So, the race started and off we went. During the first mile, 2 things happened: we passed a turn-around point, and I saw my first mile split on my watch. At the turn-around I could count the women in front of me - I don't know why I did it - boredom, I guess. I was the 40th woman. I sorta laughed, but it sorta ignited something in me, and my competitive side wanted nothing of it. My first mile split was 8:15, and as any good pace chart can tell me - I ran my last marathon a hair faster than that pace. So then the course took us by the start area. I saw my family - threw my hat, waved and smiled. I wanted to say, "My feet are numb, I really need to go to the bathroom, and do you know how slow this pace is?" I wanted to slap a little mitten, but there was a cop in the road between me and them. Oh well. On my merry way I went. The 12k's were marked with hand-drawn signs depicting the quotes from the song - "seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, etc. That little competitive fire in me took over and I spent the remainder of the k's picking people off. It became my focus to see how far down I could get that number from the original 40th. It was easy at first, but the further along we went, the more spread out we were, and the harder I had to work. It wasn't any fun to pass guys - they didn't count in my mind - just extras. The course was a wee bit hilly, too, but I like that - a good variety makes for a nice muscle change-up every now and then. I clocked one of my downhill surge miles at 6:30 pace - hmmmm. My husband laughed at me after I finished - "I thought you said you were just gonna run easy . . " He knows me better. All in all, it made for a great workout - I need to put some more road races on my calendar and not prepare for them - I think I get a lot more out of it. I can pick a big race or two to train for and stress and fret about, but it's so much fun to have a race for a hard workout. I finished up in 13th - I think there were about 300 women .

Place Div/Tot Bib # Name Age City/state Net Time Gun Time Pace
13 4/114 53 Ginger Breadman 36 Seattle WA 54:34 54:52.4 7:22

My kids' favorite part was the candy-canes for post-race food. Me, too. I don't know if I've ever run this distance, so I can't compare my time - but I don't think it equates very high when I compare it to my best 10k's. I must've run hard, though, 'cause I was pretty sore this morning. It's gonna give me an itch to maintain through the rest of the year, and then crank up my training some in the new year and find some more races to run.