I have a book rec. I know! A book. I wish I could say I read it. LOL. I didn't. I downloaded it from Audible, but now that I've listened to it, I fully intend to buy it so I can underline and love it to bits. 
Before you say, "Oh, it's a book about running," and scroll past, I beg to differ. Obviously, I bought it because it's about running, but it's sooo much more than that. This book has something for everyone:
-Amazing characters who not only happen to be real people, but who are the kind of people we all wish we had the inner strength and peace to be. (Ignore that glaring generalization in favor of glowing melodrama, k?) These are the dudes and dudettes who walk the walk, and they do it while overcoming the same trials and tribulations that all of us face. Where other people make excuses, they make tracks. I dare you to read this and not love or find a piece of yourself in at least one of the characters.
-Conspiracy theory. Your running shoes are causing your injuries, not preventing them. And the running shoe manufacturers know it.
-Drama. Set a foot race in Copper Canyon, Mexico, the heart of drug runner territory. This isn't just a hostile backdrop, but a part of the story that will break your heart.
-Cultural study. The Tarahumara, a Mexican tribe known for their triumph as ultramarathoners are not only some of the most amazing runners on the planet but also the most amazing people. Of the Tarahumara, one observer in the book noted that the difference between the Tarahumara runners and the people they run against is that "Man's capacity to love is directly proportional to his capacity to love running." While the book is criticized as focusing only on the Tarahumara as runners and ignoring the fact that they're so poverty stricken that they truly have nothing, I think that's even more inspirational in that, people who 'have nothing' as one reviewer noted, still have something that they not only excel at but that they love and use to bind together as a community.
-Inspiration. Some of the world's top runners should not be the world's top runners. They do everything wrong. Wrong shoes. Wrong form. Wrong training plan. The difference? They love running. One quote that stands out (and I'm paraphrasing because I can't go back and find direct quotes on the audio file) is this. "Running is man's superpower, and we all have it." And even if you never intend to run a race or a step out your front door, the graphic re-telling of some of the world's toughest ultra marathons (50 miles and over) will help you get through the day with that nagging pain in your knee or your foot or your... ass(speaking personally here, LOL.)
-History. The title isn't just a catchphrase. It's a statement of fact. If you don't believe running is your privilege and your superpower rather than your punishment by the time you finish reading, you'll at least believe that there's an athlete in you just waiting to be resurrected.
-Story. So, you don't care about running, history, conspiracy theories, little known cultures and the human spirit, it's still a gripping, moving story. I have to admit, I got so caught up in the rest that I completely missed who wound up winning the race at the end, because more than anything, this book reminds you, it's about the race, not the finish.
I don't have my own personal star rating, but on Amazon it has over 4 stars and over 459 reviews, so there ya go. Would I steer you wrong? (Okay, ignore the fact that I once recced the Cal Leandros books on here. I had no idea how bad that was going to get. This is just one book, a'ight? And it's looong.)
So there. Read it. Then strap on your Vibram Five Fingers and go for a... walk.
Until the next bend in the road, watch out for plot holes.
Tracy
Book Review- Born to Run by Christopher McDougall
Run Thru The Vines-10k Official Race Report
I've been kinda training in a vacuum for awhile, it seems. Getting in my miles, following the plan, and loving all the support and feedback from my friends (hugs for all) but there was still the little niggling doubt in my head as to whether I could run a race or would just crumble under the pressure-- whether I could apply the training to anything but more training. So, I took the plunge and entered a race, and yesterday I even ran it. (Believe me, I was always well aware that there was no real penalty for just not showing up. LOL.) And you know what? I liked it! Hey, Tracy!
It's still a little surreal in my head, not because there was anything special about how the run went, but because I'm not even sure I know who that person was who showed up on that racecourse. Not me, I'm sure. Some other crazy bubbly chick who stole my clothes... and my bib... and my hair. This is her story, not mine, despite use of the first person narration.
It started out kinda rough. I'm not gonna lie. A week ago hubby said he probably wasn't going to go to the race with me. The night before, he decided that he was, so suddenly I was on his schedule of how things should be. I mean, I don't mind, usually, but him saying I should be asleep is not gonna make me magically fall asleep, and since I work nights, sometimes the sleep just does not come. But anyway, I tried the whole oatmeal thing for breakfast, but only choked down half a bowl and a banana--half the oatmeal, that is. I don't make a habit of eating bowls. I had my coffee with protein powder (chocolate, yum) mixed up some Gatorade in my water bottle, listened to hubby's, no doubt well intended but grating, speech on how I shouldn't expect too much, blah, blah, and then we headed out.
I made a point to pee right before we left, and I still needed the porta potties as soon as we got there.
The race was the Run Thru The Vines 5k/10k at the Mesina Hof Winery and Resort, and it wasn't that hard to find, but a few more signs might've helped. We thought we got there a little on the late side, because the parking lot was full and we were parking on the grass, but by the time the race started, people were parked practically up to the line. Because they'd changed the liability waiver since the online signup, we all had to go through the registration line. They handed out the waivers in the line, but no pens, and I got to listen to the older gentleman behind me talk about how these student run events never got any better, not exactly a great plug for the Texas A&M Roadrunner's club, but I had nothing to compare it to. I think it went off all right, though. Made it through the line in about 5 minutes.
I think it was probably about the time that I strapped on my timing chip and pinned on my bib (number 95 and my hands were shaking SO much!) that this new chick came and possessed me. I was... giddy, excited, couldn't wait to get started. My cheeks hurt from smiling, I kid you not, and I could tell hubby about every pair of shoes that went by. Made my mouth dry. LOL. Those are Asics--they hurt my knees. Those are Vibrams-- I'd like to graduate to those someday, but I'm afraid how they'd hold up on road base and pea gravel and not sure I could stand having stuff between my toes-- look, another person with the UnderArmours (There were only two of us sporting the UnderArmours. I felt special.)
I could pick out the eventual winners of the race with no problem. There's just a different look and build, I guess, neither of which I will ever possess, LOL. I picked out three I thought would be the fastest, but I didn't know which race they were in, so I just stuck that in my head for later reference.
Somewhere between registering and waiting for the race start, I got the worst case of cotton mouth ever and had to race back to the car for my half-empty bottle of Gatorade. When I got back, they were saying five minutes to start. I didn't know if there were separate starts for the 5k and 10k, so it was frustrating that the sound system was total crap, but it seemed like everyone was heading toward the line at the same time, so I just kissed hubby and followed suit.
I'd spent the afternoon prior compiling a playlist for the race (and shampooing my carpet and burning audiobooks to CD, very productive day, lol) and as we approached the line, I realized I'd better start it playing, since there'd be no way to access it without unzipping my armband, and I didn't wanna mess with that during the race. Getting that done did a pretty decent job of distracting me until the start, and "Wayward Son," by Kansas was already half finished by the time the airhorn sounded.
I knew the race was supposed to be through the vineyard for part of it, but I didn't realize what a mess of congestion and bad footing that was going to be. It'd been a rainy spring, and there were huge ruts in the path which I couldn't always see due to the number of people running in front of me. Not to mention sticks and knotted pieces of grapevine, huge potholes and rocks. More than one person commented that they were trying to kill us. I said this was probably why they needed the new liability forms. I swear, I didn't intend to talk at all during the race, just knuckle in and go, but that other girl in my clothes was apparently a Chatty Cathy.
I probably expended a little more energy than necessary powering past a few people who insisted on running together despite the trail being pretty narrow and forcing me to run in the ruttiest part of the road. I picked a higher gear until we got out of the vineyard, at which time, everybody, and I mean everybody, split off from me onto the 5k course and left me pretty much running by myself on the 10k. There was one girl ahead of me that I ended up passing in the first mile and never saw again, and one group ahead of me that pretty much stayed there for the rest of the race, and one other lone runner that I leapfrogged for most of the race, and other than that, I never saw most of the 10k field until the turnaround. They were either way ahead of me or way behind me.
At this point, I tried to focus on my pace and heart rate, running the race I had planned. I knew my goal pace was between 10 and 11min/mile. I wanted to finish as close to an hour as possible, but I'd intended to start out closer to the 11min/mile pace and speed up. Imagine my surprise when I checked it a mile in and found out I was going at 9min/mile. Oops. My heart rate was already into my yellow zone, hard running, even though I was still breathing like a green zone run. I made a conscious effort to slow down to at least 10min/mile, but that didn't happen til after the turnaround. My heart rate stayed in the yellow, over 173 bpm for the whole race. Previously, I'd only ever done a 20 minute yellow run. If anyone had told me I could stay in my yellow for over an hour, I'd have called them a liar.
I wasn't even 2.5 miles into the race when the first runner came back the other way. This guy was booking it and had a guy on a bike pacing him. He ended up finishing the race in 37 minutes, I think. Within the next half to 3/4 of a mile, the actual winner of the race (turned out the first guy was just auditing it) and the two female leaders, also the two I had picked from the start, came cruising by going the other way. I think they finished in 42 and 44 minutes.
Me? I was just wondering when we'd get to the top of this friggin' hill. I swear, we started on a hill, turned a corner to another hill, leveled off before going up yet another hill. The course was supposed to be 'rolling.' From now on, I'll understand a rolling course to be uphill the entire race. But I will say I was glad to see the runners coming back in this direction, because I figured that meant we'd finally get to run down all these hills we'd been running up. I went up to the water station thinking we must be pretty close to the turnaround if I was seeing runners. Oh, how naive am I? So, I felt pretty good when I got my water. Despite my best intentions, I had to walk to drink it, because I was really thirsty, and I wanted to drink it, not wear it. At that point, a group of three runners cruised by me. I hadn't even known they were there. What's the point of looking behind you, anyway? I let them go. We weren't even halfway yet, and I had no idea if I could keep going at the pace I was going. I'd rather let them go and catch them at the end than keep spending all my energy leapfrogging them.
I got my first disappointment when I realized the race didn't actually have a turnaround, so to speak, but about a mile loop that just happened to cross back onto a stretch of road we'd already been down, so I was not as close to the turnaround as I thought, and it started to set in that I wasn't even halfway through this race yet. Luckily, I was able to distract myself with oooh, pretty horsies (very lovely countryside we were running through) and eeew, I think that used to be a turtle. (I'd totally have rescued it if I'd run by while it was... less flat.)
The water stop was set up at the point where the outgoing and incoming course loop back on each other, and as I approached it for the second time, I finally started seeing all the runners who were still behind me. I'd been running by myself the whole time after leaving the vineyard, and there was no way in heck I was getting anymore out of this race than an experience, so I put on my biggest smile and waved to everyone I went past. Might as well make it a pleasant experience. If they were walking, I gave 'em thumbs up and said, "looking good." One of the volunteers was running up the road behind a dog on a leash. I said, "No fair, I want a pull." He laughed. That was fun.
About 3/4 of a mile past the water stop for the second time, I stopped seeing other runners except for the five or six right in front of me, so I went back into serious business mode. I think it helped that Patty Smyth's "Warrior" came on my .mp3 player right then. From there on out, apart from saying something snarky to the volunteers whenever I saw one, I was pretty much white knuckling it. Every curve in the road led up to another hill, and we never seemed to get to run back down the other side, just turned off somewhere and kept going up. I knew to shorten my steps and float up them, so I never had to walk, but I really wanted a flat space or a downhill where I could open up a little and try to make up some time.
I never got that.
The little group of runners that had run past me at the first water stop must have sensed the finish line approaching, and they started to break up. Two of them disappeared into the horizon and left one behind. The other lone runner I'd been chasing seemed to be putting some distance between us, but I didn't dare try to catch her going uphill, so I just kept plugging along. The straggler from the group that broke up started to walk, and I'm a little ashamed at how long it took me to catch her while running, but she was walking pretty fast.
Of course, when I got up to her, she started running again. Instead of running past her, I paced her. I had no idea where she started, with all the confusion going through the vineyard, so I wasn't going to put myself out by going around her. Besides, I was kinda lonely. :P I said, ,"You'd think just once we'd get to run down these hills, wouldn't you?" And she laughed, half-heartedly. She said she spent too much time standing at the start line. Her legs were like lead. I didn't wanna say I would be happy just to finish since it was my first race, so I just ran beside her for awhile. We made small talk, but I could tell she was toast. Finally she said something like, "I didn't realize how hard this would be. It seems like it should be easier." At that point, I was already lengthening my stride a little more, and I had no real idea how to respond to that, since everything I read about the subject said racing was supposed to hurt like hell, and I was pretty sure I was already dogging it by trying to have a little fun. I think I said, "You'd think..." and then she was gone. I don't know if she finished, but I think she did.
At that point there was only really one runner ahead of me that I might still be able to catch, and a little over a mile left in which to do it. She was still a good fifty feet ahead of me, though. We approached a turn, and there was a volunteer parked there on a bike directing us back toward the vineyard. Before I could see what was around the corner, I asked him, "Do we get to run downhill NOW?" He laughed and said, "No, but you do get some nice, smooth road for a change." (Okay, the road til then was pretty much crap, but so was the road I ran on every day, so I hadn't even really considered that some people might have had a problem with it.) I turned the corner... and looked UP. The longest hill yet was ahead of me. It wasn't as steep as the hills I run up on a regular basis on my daily runs, but it looked like it went on for the whole rest of the race. I could see the people lining it at the top, so I knew that was the vineyard and people were waiting to see us finish. So much for a finishing kick, I thought. I'd be lucky to make it without walking the last bit.
I might've made a face just then, because the volunteer laughed, gave me a thumbs up, and said, "But you look great out there. Good job. Almost finished."
Okay, so I know that's pretty much his job, but it meant a lot that hesaid that, because that last hill probably would've made me cry if he hadn't. Yes. I am a big GIRL. And proud of it. I took that little bit of encouragement, took a physical and mental assessment of myself, eyed up the remainder of the course, the one runner in front of me, tuned into the song on my .mp3 player, which was "I Need a Hero," by Bonnie Tyler and decided I had something left in me for a kick to the finish.
I tucked my chin, because I couldn't bear to look up that hill anymore and just focused on the few feet of road ahead of me, and started my kick, changed my breathing pattern from every three footfalls to every two and just started sucking wind. About halfway up the hill, I started to see the feet of the runner in front of me, and they kept getting closer. There was a little bit of hesitation as I tried to decide the best way to go around her, then I just pushed on by and kicked it in all the way to the top.
I got to the top still kicking, and turned into the vineyard, expecting the finish line to be right there where it was when we started. I was WRONG! There was just another volunteer directing me off into the vineyard... AGAIN. And up hill, AGAIN. At that point, I had no idea where the finish line was and how much farther I had to go. My miCoach said I'd already run over six miles, so it had to be somewhere nearby, but all I could think was that I was gonna have to run through the entire vineyard again and all I could see was grapevines. I think I almost did cry. LOL. But I rounded a corner at the top of the little rise, and there was another volunteer pointing me down between the row of vines. I realized the finish line was at the end of the row. I could see the clock was at 1:03, well under my goal time, so I found enough juice in me to sprint down the grass lane even though there was no one else running against me at that point.
I was so relieved to cross the line, "Bother" by Stone Sour playing on my Sansa, that I forgot to stop my miCoach right away, yet, ironically, it ended up recording a time of 1:02.40, exactly the same time as the chip recorded for the race. Almost makes me wonder if all the little wireless devices interfere with each other at all, but I'm sure if they did we'd know by now, right?
Anyway, that was the race. The 5kers had already eaten up all the bananas by the time I got there, but I did enjoy that cup of water while we waited for the results to post. I wasn't expecting to place. All the ladies I'd seen who I pegged to be in my age group were wearing marathon finisher shirts, so, yeah... way out of my league, but I wanted an official time to post on my blog, even though I knew I made my goal and then some. Plus, there were the door prizes.
I didn't really care about the door prizes. Sparkling grape juice. LOL. But since I so seldom win anything, and I had nothing else but a t-shirt to show for it, I stuck around. I didn't win a door prize, but half the people who did win them had already left. So, they re-drew, and I went home with a nice bottle of sparkling white grape juice.
All in all a good day.
The Short Story
I predicted I'd run in about 1h, 10minutes. I was hoping for as close to 1hour as possible.
My final time was 1hour 2minutes and 40 seconds, and I'm so thrilled with that. I can't help but wonder what my time would be like on a flatter, smoother course, which means, I guess, that I've now got the bug and will have to do a few more of these. Sadly, this is Central Texas, and there's pretty much nothing after the middle of May. And I took off work this weekend for this race. I doubt my bosses would appreciate me doing it again. So, I probably won't get anymore races 'til fall. That's okay, though. I now have official results. I know I can run a race. And I can adjust my training paces accordingly.
All in all, very rewarding experience.
Pictures:
I didn't get any pictures during the race, because hubby is not very good with the camera. So, we snapped a few after we got home, (and even then, he got a few of nothing but grass, LOL.) Erm, I look like a dork in all of them, but he would only take the pics if he got to pick which ones I posted. He loves to embarrass me. Haha. So, here's three. He didn't say I couldn't crop out the embarrassing bits. :P
This is my sparkling grape juice, t-shirt, and race bib. Oh yeah, I'm in there, too. LOL.
And because it took me almost as long to do my hair as run the race, here's a pic of that, too. :P
And there you have it. First race in the books. Looking forward to many more. I've already plugged my results into every racing calculator known to man and reset my training paces accordingly. Looking forward to Chicago with a little bit more perspective and a little less enthusiasm, but just as much excitement.
Until the next bend in the road, watch out for plot holes.
Tracy
Creative Crosstraining-Trikke
It's been awhile. I know. What started as a little tickle in the back of my throat morphed into full-blown flu/Plague and sidelined me for over a week. I tried to run through it, but the day after I ran 8 miles on a scratchy throat, the scratch turned into raw and swollen, irritated by coughing fits that turned into gagging fits that... well, you get the picture. I just thought I'd share. It appears that misery does, indeed, love company. And yet, only one here is my dog.
Anyway, right before I got too sick to do anything but sleep, I took my Trikke T67 out for the first time in about six months and planned this blog post.
I don't know how many of you have a Trikke or how many of you saw the infomercial and thought you might like to have one, but I've had mine for a little over a year, and this is my overall assessment of it as a form of exercise.
First, I should point out that my model is the T67, which has the hard-molded rubber tires like on rollerblades. It's also the smallest "adult-sized" model. It's supposed to be appropriate for older children and small adults. I'm not even sure I was under the weight cut-off on it when I bought it. It was just the only model I could afford. Honestly, if it's serious fitness you're worried about, it would be cheaper and more effective to buy a bike. That being said, I love my Trikke. It's totally addictive and a ton of fun. I'll admit, it took me awhile to 'find the sweet spot' as the lingo goes so that I could actually make the Trikke go. I spent a lot of the first few days just coasting downhill, slamming on the brakes and then kicking back up. By downhill, I'm talking just the couple degrees of incline of my barn aisle, since that was the only place anywhere around me that had a surface smooth enough to Trikke on. Eventually, though, I learned to control my speed on the downhill by slaloming, and didn't need to use the brake anymore, and then learned to carry the downhill momentum around to get me started on the uphill. Believe me, once you find the technique, it's too much fun to stop.
But is it a good workout?
That depends. Is it a good cardio workout? No. Not really. And that's not entirely the fault of the design. Like I said, I have a small model with hard tires. It will not work on the roads behind my house. Only on clean blacktop and concrete. This limits me to just the fifty or so feet of barn aisle in my horse barn or driving someplace else. Basically, if you can't rollerblade there, you can't Trikke there, at least not on my Trikke. But the larger models with the pneumatic tires are supposed to be more tolerant of different surfaces. I think if you had a larger model and could go down a safe stretch of road for miles at a time, you could get a decent cardio workout on the Trikke. At least as good as your average elliptical machine.
That being said, you can raise your heart rate just like you would doing any other activity, by using your legs more. I find that if I incorporate a lot of squats into my Trikking I can get my heart rate up into at least slow, easy run zone. It just takes a little practice.
Now, just because I wouldn't rate the Trikke very high for cardiovascular exercise doesn't mean I don't think Trikking qualifies as working out. I guess whether or not you think it works as crosstraining for running depends on your definition of crosstraining. I actually had this discussion with someone on the LJ runners community just a week or so ago. I have always considered crosstraining to be anything that gets a similar cardiovascular challenge to my chosen activity while incorporating other muscle groups to do so. I never considered strength training to be crosstraining. I considered strength training to be strength training. Apparently, I'm the only one on the planet who defines it as such. So, if you consider any form of exercise that's not your chosen activity to be crosstraining, then the Trikke definitely qualifies, not so much as a cardiovascular test, but as, what I like to refer to as, Pilates on wheels.
That's right. Trikking is like Pilates on wheels.
How so? Well, let me explain. The first few days I had my Trikke, as I mentioned, I couldn't make it go at all. Still after the first day, I had serious PAIN all along the sides of my ribcage, into my obliques, my lower abs and back. I won't say my core hurt, because I'll instantly lose all the credibility I ever had with the gymrat crowd. LOL. But here's what I noticed-- when I do a lot of Trikking, I hurt in places I never hurt before. I don't hurt in my biceps or triceps, but along the outside of my arm, along the bone, and my glutes don't really hurt, but there's a definite tightness at the base of my spine around my tailbone. So, yeah, I think it definitely hits all those postural muscles that you normally only hit by doing Advanced Pilates. And that's not to mention the hip flexors. Holy cow, if you want that V-cut, I definitely recommend the Trikke.
And that's just by doing your basic Trikking. There are a ton of ways you can change up your position to hit other muscles groups. I already mentioned incorporating squats in order to elevate your heart rate. Besides elevating your heart rate, you get all the benefits of a bodyweight squat, and the longer you go, the more it burns, and you can get a really exquisite burn going while still having fun.
Then, there are two or three different positions I like to rotate between. First, I do a toes-out Pilates First Position type stance, which is exactly how it sounds. My feet turn out on the foot pads, calves get close together, heels come off the footpads and dip down into the well between them for a good lengthening strength move. Glutes tuck in and everything comes into alignment from lower abs to the top of your head. This really targets the inner thighs, hip flexors, calves (though more of a calf stretch than strengthener) and glutes. It's a little hard to get any kind of speed up in this position, especially uphill, but it's still pretty stable once you get the hang of it.
By contrast, the 'toes-in' position is a lot less stable. Again, it's exactly what it sounds like. Toes to the inside of the foot pad, heels off the outsides. I wouldn't attempt this if you have knee issues as there is definitely some torque to the knee joint. Also, it tends to throw your body weight forward so that you're more likely to try to muscle your way through the movement instead of feeling the edge of the cambering wheel, and the foot pads will lift off the ground, increasing the potential for tip over. I wouldn't do this stance at all except it really works the calves and the glutes. I'm not recommending this one, just saying I use it.
You can also change the muscle recruitment by stepping up to the front of the foot pads so far that the toes of your feet actually end up on the forks of the Trikke. I find this really tightens up the movement so that the power comes almost exclusively from the abs, back, and skeletal muscles. As an added benefit, it's a very stable position. I've yet to have a foot pad come off the ground using this stance, and it's very good for building and maintaining speed. I think this is my favorite stance for having fun while still getting a good muscle workout.
Anyway, those are just a few examples of how you can customize your Trikking to get what you want out of the workout. The most important thing, though, is that Trikking is fun, so you tend to go for very long periods of time without realizing how much of a workout you're actually getting. The other weekend I did over an hour and a half, and when I got off my legs were rubber.
Overall, I give the Trikke a moderate rating for effectiveness as training equipment. I don't think the Trikke will be phased out of my exercise program any time soon, and I don't have that much time for working out, so I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't find it beneficial. However, I wouldn't do it more than once a week, since the muscles adapt very quickly, and it starts to require an exorbitant amount of time to get the same results. But nothing replaces the fun factor for workout motivation. I'd definitely recommend people who can afford it and have a decent place to ride one go ahead and buy the Trikke if they think it looks like fun. I'd just recommend the T8 or larger, with the pneumatic tires instead of the hard rubber. Ultimately, I would love a T12, but you know what they say about wishes and horses.
I did a quick video of me on the Trikke. Do not be laughing at the ridic that is me. I tried to incorporate all the different things I talked about, but it's hard to film oneself with any effectiveness. First is just regular trikking, then toes out, toes in, forward on the forks, and squatting.
Disclaimer: Trikke recommends the use of a helmet and pads. Do as I say, not as I do.
And there you have it. 'Til the next bend in the road. Watch out for plot holes.
-Tracy
Mile 1; It's a Lot Like Riding... a Horse
It’s January 26, 2010, and I ran two miles straight through for the first time on Christmas of 2009. Before then, I’d have told you, at length how much I hated running. I may have posted that very sentiment on more than one occasion on various health and fitness forums. It’s actually a very popular opinion. I’m a relatively new runner. Sure, I was out for Track in High School, but it was a small school, and they kinda had to take me. During the two years I ran for the team (didn’t start until I was a Junior) I ran a mile exactly one time. Once. And I hated every second of it.
My primary complaint? Boring. Running is boring. People who told me they ran to clear their heads were filling me with hooey, because when I ran, all I could ever think about was, “When can I stop friggin’ running?”
I sit here, nearly twenty years later, about to strap on my shoes and head out for four easy miles, knowing the only thing that kept me from finishing the eight I started yesterday was the failure to bring water. I will get that eight this weekend.
So, what’s changed in twenty years? Why did I hate running so much, and what got me past that?
I never had anything against fitness or working out. That was never it. In fact, at 35, I know for sure that I’m in the best shape of my life. A self-proclaimed workout DVD junkie, I’ve done them all. I started with Denise Austin, and when she got too easy, I moved on down the road to Jari Love and Kathe Friedrich, joined a gym, and then dropped out because the classes were not challenging enough and I was afraid of treadmills (LOL), worked my way through P90X, Hip Hop Abs, and even Insanity. All in the name of not running, because seriously, there is no point in doing all that nonspecific training just for the sake of being fit or zipping up those skinny jeans. Sure, that kind of workout can be fun, and I still resort to them when I’m in the mood to kick some ass, but I gotta say, I’m getting too old to care that much about everything and sustain that level of intensity. I probably kept it up way longer than necessary, just because I refused to run.
It’s funny-- all the various workouts I’ve done, all the looks I’ve gotten from people who insist, girls don’t DO that, don’t have MUSCLES like those, all the times I’ve had guys grab my arms and proclaim, “Look at them guns,” and running was the thing that stigmatized me. Of all things. It was the one thing I couldn’t do. I wouldn’t do. It was my can’t.
And yet? I envied runners. Never once, in all the years that I ‘hated’ running, did I spy a runner on the shoulder of the road and conspire to throw thumb tacks in his path or possibly water balloons. Never did I roll my eyes and suggest they get a real job so they could burn off some of that excess energy. Instead, I called them ‘dedicated jogger types,’ and what’s more, I sooo wanted to be one. I just didn’t know how.
But, Tracy, you say, what do you mean you didn’t know how? It’s running. All you do is put one foot in front of the other.
I know. Right? That’s what I thought, all the more reason to be constantly frustrated that I just... couldn’t.
But you know, there was a time I thought riding a horse was just sitting in a saddle and pulling on the reins. That wasn’t true about riding, and it isn’t true about running. I spent a lot of years riding horses by the seat of my pants, and let me tell you, I spent a lot of time in pain, pushing myself too hard and pushing my horses too hard, all in pursuit of the perfect ride.
And what was the perfect ride? That daydream place I went on that long school bus ride to with my knees propped up on the seat in front of me, my nose pressed against the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of every single horse on the route? When I closed my eyes and imagined the perfect ride, it was just me and the horse cantering through a field, just that, cantering through a field, making long swooping turns through the fog while the morning sun warmed the ground. (I know, the fog is tacky, but what can I say? I’ve always been a hopeless romantic.) That sounds pretty basic, though, doesn’t it? Easy.
Well, let me tell you, it isn’t. I rode a lot of horses in my pursuit of the perfect ride, and finding one that will canter in an enjoyable manner at all is a challenge. I rode ponies who trotted faster and faster until my brain was pudding and my butt was hamburger, picked up a canter for about three strides, and then went back to turning my innards to puree. I rode horses that you could squeeze and kick, cluck to and spur all day that would never shift into a canter. These horses might eventually learn to canter, but they’d usually take a whole lot of oomph to keep them going, or they’d still drop out of the canter when you changed directions, and that was only if you were lucky enough to find that their canter was actually worth riding. That’s not even mentioning all the ones that only cantered on one lead or cross-cantered. Not all canters are created equal, it would seem.
Then, there were my chosen horses, the ones who had two speeds, jig and Yee-HAWWW!
You know that kind of horse. Riding one is like being strapped to the back of a missile. The missile is careening through wind and sky and anything in its path, while you’re trailing above like a kite on a string wielding a sledgehammer in hopes that you can smack it on the nose hard enough to send it in the direction you want to go. (The missile, of course, not the horse. Disclaimer: No sledge hammers were utilized against the noses of any actual horses in the imagining or writing of this blog nor in any of the recollected thoughts that inspired it. It’s called storytelling.) Enough practice riding this kind of horse, and you end up with bulging biceps and become adept at timing your ‘influence’ so that you can, indeed, steer that horse through a barrel pattern or a pole bending course, by the seat of your velcro-equipped Levi’s, and make it look effortless. But deep down, about the place where the dowels of your spurs have carved grooves into the fuselage, you know you’re still strapped to a missile, and unless you’re an adrenaline junkie, that ain’t no fun, and it gets old real quick. Or you do. Or you die, which is always a distinct possibility.
A lot of years, a lot of horses, but you know, I eventually found that perfect ride. My gelding, Teddy, registered name Cometet, came storming out of the south pasture of the breeder’s farm on the day I went there to pick up my other gelding, Brat. I had passed on buying Teddy, because he was a few years older. It just wasn’t good horse sense to buy a 13 year old unbroke gelding when my goal was to train a horse and sell it to buy a better horse. But then Teddy came. Well, all of the horses in the south pasture came, because we didn’t get the gate closed fast enough when we brought Brat out, and excitement spread like a static charge through summer thunder heads. Most of the herd just ran really fast through the gate and then mulled around, picking at the new grass and generally getting in our way. But Teddy came out like a true prince of the desert, his head high, tail flagging, and passaging like a Grand Prix dressage horse, complete with airs above the ground. To say I’d never seen more athleticism in a horse would’ve been putting it mildly. So, of course, a couple months later, I went back and bought Teddy, too.
Teddy was my first big challenge, starting a horse completely from scratch using natural horsemanship techniques, and there was the added challenge of him being way older than your average greenie. And he was smart. No doubt smarter than I. Everything he did was a puzzle, so nothing I knew to do worked on him. But you know, I taught him to stand with no halter or bridle while I trimmed his feet. To walk backwards if I led him by the tail, to ride bridleless, sidepass over barrels and do a zig zag sideways through ground rails with me standing 22 feet away and wiggling a rope. Still, riding was a challenge. Most of the first year I had him under saddle, he’d buck for the first five minutes, refusing to canter, and then he’d canter for about three strides and bolt forward, gradually gain more and more speed until I was holding onto the front of the saddle and praying with my eyes closed that he’d eventually just wear himself out. Let me just say, to anyone who’s interested, that never works with Arabians. They can run forever.
But eventually, it happened. I asked him to canter, and he did. I asked him to canter three strides and back up, then go directly into the canter again, and he did. I asked him to change directions without using the reins, and he did. I asked him to stop without touching the reins, and he did. All the elements were there. Granted, each one took hours and hours to put there, but they were there. And one morning in December, I climbed on and... had no plans whatsoever. I couldn’t honestly think of a single thing I wanted to teach him that he didn’t already know. So, I just smooched him up into a canter, sat back, and... yeah, the perfect ride. We looped around that pasture for a good half hour or so, never breaking gait or changing speed, none of his constant head tossing or bit jangling, just me and him, cruising around, soaking up the air and some sun.
Perfect.
So, that’s all well and good, you say, but what does it have to do with running? Let me tell you.
A few years ago, I would’ve told you the perfect ride didn’t exist, that there were too many factors involved that made it too hard to achieve, and it was just a pipe dream, just like me staring after those dedicated jogger types as they ran down the shoulder of my road and wanting to be able to run along beside them was just a pipe dream. Too hard.
I was wrong about the riding. And I was wrong about running, too.
Of course, I had good reason for thinking it was too hard. Even after I spent half the summer letting Shaun T kick my ass on DVD, I still could not run a whole mile without stopping. No matter how many muscles I built or how much fat I stripped off, how much endurance I thought I had, I still couldn’t run. I still got about a quarter mile from my house and started looking for turnoffs where I could walk back and no one who saw me run out would see me walk the walk of shame. I just couldn’t run. I was just not made for running. I talked myself out of it every time. What was the point? I wasn’t even training for anything. What’s the point of running just to run?
But I still had this image in my head of what running should be. Jared Padalecki talking about running with his dogs before heading off to set. Jensen Ackles talking about jogging through Paris while on vacation. Experiences. Things that you got to do and to see only because you were out there running, things that I was missing out on because I couldn’t run.
Then it occurred to me, I achieved the perfect ride by re-evaluating and rethinking every single thing I knew about horses.
If, after all these years of putting one foot in front of the other I still couldn’t run, then I was probably DOING IT WRONG!
So, yes. I bought books. I bought DVDs. I learned about the Pose method of running. I learned about midfoot striking as opposed to heel striking. I learned about walk-run intervals. I learned about cadence. I soaked it all up. And then, I read Jack Daniels’ book, and the theory behind the long, easy run. I did some calculations, and by my numbers, I only needed to be running at a heart rate of 145 beats per minute. After spending all summer training at over 180, I knew 145 did not hurt at all. By extrapolation, then, running at 145 bpm, should not hurt at all either. And I think that was the final string tying me back, because when that baby snapped...
I remember exactly when it happened. Hubby had gotten me a heart rate monitor for Christmas, and even though I pigged out all Christmas day, by the time Christmas night rolled around, I just couldn’t help but take that monitor out on a run. I told myself it didn’t matter if I couldn’t do more than walk. All I had to do was get my heart rate up to 145.
I stepped onto the road, took a couple steps, knew they were too big, took a few smaller ones, and then, just kept going. I got to the end of the song on my .mp3 player which is where I would usually start my walk, and I just didn’t feel like walking. I kept going. I kept going past the half mile mark, kept going down the long stretch of road on the other side of the block where there are no houses or lights since the frat house burned down, and then, I was climbing back around toward my own road and decided I still wasn’t finished, took a detour down a cul de sac that turned out to be all uphill, ran all the way up the hill, turned around, came back, and when I finally did turn down my road and faced that hill that had stopped me every single time I’d tried to run it in the past, I ran all the way up that sucker and all the way to my back gate. And then I stopped, and I turned around, because there’s no point in living at the top of (arguably) the biggest hill in College Station, Texas with a direct view of the... airport, if you’re not going to stop and soak in the view. It was dark, and cold, and my .mp3 player was playing “Restless Sinner,” way too loud to have been safe. But it was perfect. Two miles of perfect.
I haven’t stopped since. I have my aches and pains, but I’m careful, and the mileage keeps going up. I haven’t yet hit the point where I just cannot keep going because I’m too tired or can’t catch my breath. I intend to keep running until I find that wall and then go through it, because something tells me on the other side is another long stretch of road waiting to take me to all those places I couldn’t go before I learned to run.
-Tracy
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