Obviously, I suck at New Year's resolutions. If I didn't, then this blog would have nearly 52 entries from 2012 and I would be 12 pounds lighter. Oh well. I guess it turns out I'm human after all.
However, my inability to complete these resolutions does not make me a complete failure; nor does it mean this year was a waste either. Far from it! Looking back, I find that 2012 was, in fact, one of the best years of my life. I've grown in many ways, accomplished feats I previously considered impossible, and experienced God's overflowing Love and blessings.
I was able to keep just one of my New Year's resolutions - to participate in and complete twelve events in one year. Actually, I slightly exceeded my goal and did thirteen! Friday, I wrapped up the year with the Santa Run, a five mile run accompanied by Christmas lights, Christmas carols, and Christmas costumes. I won't go into details about the run itself, but as I crossed the finish line, I couldn't help but feel proud of all that God has allowed me to accomplish these past twelve months - five 5ks, two 8ks, one 10k, two mud runs, two triathlons, and one really long bike ride to Charleston. That comes out to 45.2 miles run, 276 miles ridden, and about 700 meters swum (or is it swam?). All together, that equals a total of about 321.5 miles covered. And that's not even counting all the training it took to be prepared for all the races!
I am not writing all this to brag. Rather, I'm stating it in near disbelief. It is amazing to me what God allows the human body to do. With just a little discipline and determination, we are capable of great things! When I began this year, I was a sorry excuse for a runner. While I am still nothing amazing, I have come a long way personally. 5ks used to be daunting to me, but now they're just another "walk in the park," so to speak. I can now jog comfortably for 30 minutes without feeling like I might die. I am also much less scared of riding to Charleston in three days. After this year, nothing really seems impossible or out of reach anymore. Maybe one day I can actually accomplish a half marathon or a half Ironman. It would take a lot of hard work and perseverance, but it could be done!
I praise God for... well, everything! I can't name just one or two things because it wouldn't be enough. Without the two strong legs, beating heart, and air-filled lungs He gave me, none of this would be possible. He is good, and I am grateful.
I'm not sure what next year holds. I haven't decided yet if I want to try this same feat again or tone it down just a little. But I'll be sure to let you know. :)
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Don't Forget
Sometimes it's hard to remember why you're training for this event or the other, or it's hard to stay focused on the end result six weeks before it actually occurs. For instance, I just completed my first triathlon of the season merely a week ago, and I'm already struggling to remember the euphoric feeling at the finish line that makes all the intense training in the heat weeks beforehand worth it. I find myself in the middle of a workout with sweat pouring in buckets down my face and the heat of the sun burning more freckles on my skin thinking, "Wait... why am I doing this???"
Sometimes you only need a reminder of the value of your venture to again willingly push yourself to your limits and beyond.
A couple weeks ago I watched The Notebook for the first time. By myself.
(Allow me to preface what follows by saying I don't often cry during movies. Or at least, I didn't used to. Getting older has turned me into a bit more of a sap. But I still usually manage to keep a straight face during flicks that turn most other women into a puddle of mush.)
I bawled. Like a baby. It wasn't the ongoing love story that triggered my sympathetic nerve. It wasn't the setting, the music, or the actors' great abilities either. It was the fact that the poor woman had dementia in the end and didn't recognize any of her family members. The movie did not state that she had Alzheimer's disease; but she could have. The state she was in and her inability to be who she had always been broke something within me.
I think, if we are honest with ourselves, we all fear death to some extent. Even those of us who have given our lives over to the very Giver of Life and know the promise that awaits us hereafter still have a distant hesitation about death because it is unfamiliar to us. We have never experienced it. But we all will.
What tears me up, though, is the thought of someone going to meet death not knowing their loved ones, not being able to remember who they are or where they came from. Even the most horrid circumstances of fatalities - car wrecks, cancer, violence, freak accidents, etc. - at least do not rob the victim of their memories, their loves, or their self-awareness.
But Alzheimer's does.
This is a bit morbid, I know, but it helps to put things into perspective. Both of my husband's grandfathers died of/with Alzheimer's. If it's hereditary, that means he has two times the chance of a normal person to end up with the disease; and that means it could be me in the man's shoes from The Notebook trying to help Frac remember who he is and who I am many years from now. Not only him, but potentially my father-in-law, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law too, all of whom I love dearly. It's scary to think about. But what can I do? Currently, there is no cure for it and treatments for it are hit-and-miss at best. Even the diagnosis of it is iffy at times, and often isn't determined until after the person dies. Right now it just seems like a silent, indestructible killer with the number of victims growing yearly. So what can I do?
I can ride.
Three years ago I rode in my first Ride to Remember event. I can't say why exactly I did it - more for the challenge than anything else, I think. But now, in my third year, it holds much more meaning. It's a step in protecting my future, the future of my husband, the future of my family, and the futures of the blessed students I teach. It's an investment into the health of those I love. One day I may not even remember that I did the ride; but, hopefully my efforts, along with those of the other cyclists will instead help make Alzheimer's disease itself a distant memory of the past.
Wondering what you can do?
You can donate money to the cause. We'll do the hard work of riding across the state in July. You can do the easy part by making all of our pedaling worth it.
www.aridetoremember.kintera.org
Sometimes you only need a reminder of the value of your venture to again willingly push yourself to your limits and beyond.
A couple weeks ago I watched The Notebook for the first time. By myself.
(Allow me to preface what follows by saying I don't often cry during movies. Or at least, I didn't used to. Getting older has turned me into a bit more of a sap. But I still usually manage to keep a straight face during flicks that turn most other women into a puddle of mush.)
I bawled. Like a baby. It wasn't the ongoing love story that triggered my sympathetic nerve. It wasn't the setting, the music, or the actors' great abilities either. It was the fact that the poor woman had dementia in the end and didn't recognize any of her family members. The movie did not state that she had Alzheimer's disease; but she could have. The state she was in and her inability to be who she had always been broke something within me.
I think, if we are honest with ourselves, we all fear death to some extent. Even those of us who have given our lives over to the very Giver of Life and know the promise that awaits us hereafter still have a distant hesitation about death because it is unfamiliar to us. We have never experienced it. But we all will.
What tears me up, though, is the thought of someone going to meet death not knowing their loved ones, not being able to remember who they are or where they came from. Even the most horrid circumstances of fatalities - car wrecks, cancer, violence, freak accidents, etc. - at least do not rob the victim of their memories, their loves, or their self-awareness.
But Alzheimer's does.
This is a bit morbid, I know, but it helps to put things into perspective. Both of my husband's grandfathers died of/with Alzheimer's. If it's hereditary, that means he has two times the chance of a normal person to end up with the disease; and that means it could be me in the man's shoes from The Notebook trying to help Frac remember who he is and who I am many years from now. Not only him, but potentially my father-in-law, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law too, all of whom I love dearly. It's scary to think about. But what can I do? Currently, there is no cure for it and treatments for it are hit-and-miss at best. Even the diagnosis of it is iffy at times, and often isn't determined until after the person dies. Right now it just seems like a silent, indestructible killer with the number of victims growing yearly. So what can I do?
I can ride.
Three years ago I rode in my first Ride to Remember event. I can't say why exactly I did it - more for the challenge than anything else, I think. But now, in my third year, it holds much more meaning. It's a step in protecting my future, the future of my husband, the future of my family, and the futures of the blessed students I teach. It's an investment into the health of those I love. One day I may not even remember that I did the ride; but, hopefully my efforts, along with those of the other cyclists will instead help make Alzheimer's disease itself a distant memory of the past.
Wondering what you can do?
You can donate money to the cause. We'll do the hard work of riding across the state in July. You can do the easy part by making all of our pedaling worth it.
www.aridetoremember.kintera.org
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Halfway there!
Picture this: You are sitting outside on a picturesque day without a care in the world. The sun is high overhead, warming your back and beckoning the brightest blues and greens forth from the sky and trees. Birds are tweeting and chirping all around you and the breeze rustles your hair and cools your skin as the perfect counterbalance to the sun's heat. Your tired feet dangle in a cool swimming pool, happy to be useless for awhile. You lean back and lie down on the warm concrete, close your eyes, and smile. Then you relax, letting your thoughts drift away into the beauty surrounding you. The world, for a moment, is good, and you are grateful for your life.
Good! Now that you are nice and relaxed, I will tell you about my triathlon today.
Today was my third triathlon. That, in and of itself, amazes me. What's even more amazing is that I've successfully finished all of them. I learn something new each time I do an event, whether about myself, my equipment, my limitations, or just life in general. With that said, today was interesting...
I woke up around 4:45 am. I wasn't yet rearing to go, but I also wasn't feeling overly grumpy and sleepy. The first item on my agenda for the day was to eat breakfast because the more time I put between my first meal and the start of the race, the better. I ate my usual event breakfast - a cinnamon-raisin bagel smothered with peanut butter and washed down with some strong coffee. Then I showered (mostly just to wake myself up), brushed my teeth, and got the rest of my stuff together. I loaded the truck with my bike, kissed my sleepy husband goodbye, and headed out the door around 5:45. I cranked up my iPod on the way there, jamming to some upbeat songs, trying to get psyched.
I got to the Y at 6:05. The sun was just beginning to make its grand entrance over the horizon and there were people milling about everywhere. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly once I parked the car. Then I got my bike out and tried to find a decent spot on a rack to hang it. Once the bike was secured, I walked over to the Y entrance and found someone to write all over my arms and legs with black permanent marker. And that someone happened to be Mrs. Roach, the mother of one of my ACA percussion students. She was very kind and encouraging and I was grateful for someone I recognized. Once I was thoroughly tattooed, I returned to my car to get the rest of my stuff. I set it up beside my bike, then went and got my timing chip from inside. I walked back to my vehicle one more time to drop off my bag and extra clothes and put on sunscreen. While on my way, I came across my sister and brother-in-law who had come to take some pictures of me for me before they left for the beach. I spoke to them for a moment and let Ashley take a couple pictures of me before I continued on to my car. Once there I put on sunscreen, unshod my feet, and left all my burdens behind me. My mom pulled up as I was finishing at my truck, but I didn't have time to talk to her because it was 6:45 and all the athletes were lining up by the pool.
Someone important said something important, then someone else prayed, and finally the race began. They let the duathlon athletes go first (there were only about five of them), and then it was our turn. Collectively, that is. It wasn't my personal turn yet. Being number 79, I still had 20 minutes to go before it was actually my turn. While standing in line, I chatted with number 78, a 59 year old woman named Mary. This was her fourth triathlon and she told me that her best event is the run. She seemed nervously excited and talked a lot; but I didn't mind. Her chatter made the time pass by quickly and easily. I was glad to meet her and was able to recognize and talk to her throughout the race.
I'll skip all the boring details of waiting in line and go straight to where I jumped in the pool. So, at about 7:20 I crossed the timing mat and jumped in the pool...
That was when everything suddenly went wrong.
First of all, after being in the warm, humid pool room, I was not expecting, nor was I prepared for, the icy shock I received upon jumping in the pool. If I had had time to think about it, I probably would have been convulsively shivering. But I didn't have time to think about it, so I just started swimming, trying to find my stride. Then the strangest feeling came over me. The best words I can think of to describe the experience are as follows: claustrophobia and panic. I've randomly felt this way before when swimming, but it only lasts for a moment and I've always been able to calm myself down and shrug it off. I couldn't do it today.
I could not believe the battle that was going on in my mind! I was thinking, for no logical reason, "Oh my gosh, I'm going to drown! I can't breathe! I can't do this, I have to get out! I can't finish this race!!!"
The logical me was trying to reason with the hyperventilating me - "No, no, Heather, you're okay! Just calm down and count your strokes."
"NO!!! Get me out of here!!! I'm going to drown!!!"
"Heather! You've trained for this, you've done it before. Just keep swimming, count your strokes and breathe."
"I CAN'T BREATHE!!!"
No joke. It was like a panic attack underwater and I could not compose myself. This went on for about four of the eight laps. In my delirium, I seriously considered just quitting. Fortunately, though, the reasonable recognized that I had worked too long for this to just give up. So, I made a desperate compromise and just stopped mid-lane to float for a few seconds. I couldn't help it. My lungs felt paralyzed with a fear I could not explain and I HAD to gulp some air. After those few seconds that felt like an eternity, I got going again and slowly started to calm down. For the last 150 yards I felt more like myself again and finished the swim in a normal frame of mind. I have no idea what snapped in my psyche at the beginning, but I'm glad God helped me overcome it.
After the swim, I felt great! Well, sort of. Upon completing the swim, I was pretty dizzy running to get my bike. I blame this on a general lack of adequate oxygen during the swim. Just imagine trying to put shoes on while being buzzed and soaking wet and you'll understand a little of how I felt. I even tried putting my helmet on backwards at first. Eventually, though, I got my act together and headed off on my bike. It took me about 50 minutes to complete the bike section, averaging around 15.5 mph. After my swim mishap (and a bad training ride earlier in the week on the same course), I kept anticipating a problem arising. But none did. The air felt cool (actually, downright cold at times), and my legs felt strong.
Once I completed the bike, my legs still felt pretty good; but, after experiencing troubles on the run in the past, I wasn't going to overdo it. So, I started off by walking and kept at a 5 minute run/1 minute walk pace. It was a bit tedious, but it worked. Even my mom was surprised at how quickly I finished the run. At some point during the swim I had passed Mary in front of me. She caught up and passed me in the run. (Go Mary!) She ended up beating me by about a minute and half overall.
I finished the run in approximately 35 minutes, which is my best triathlon run time thus far. Sadly, I came in last in my age group (those darn 27 year olds!) and 78th overall. However, I had a mentally tough swim and still came out with a new personal record finish of 1:41:53, so I can't really complain.
And, it gave me a thirst for more. There's another tri at Furman University on July 14th. That gives me six weeks to train...
(*If you read this, give it a thumbs up on Facebook because sometimes I wonder if I'm just writing to a wall...*)
Good! Now that you are nice and relaxed, I will tell you about my triathlon today.
Today was my third triathlon. That, in and of itself, amazes me. What's even more amazing is that I've successfully finished all of them. I learn something new each time I do an event, whether about myself, my equipment, my limitations, or just life in general. With that said, today was interesting...
I woke up around 4:45 am. I wasn't yet rearing to go, but I also wasn't feeling overly grumpy and sleepy. The first item on my agenda for the day was to eat breakfast because the more time I put between my first meal and the start of the race, the better. I ate my usual event breakfast - a cinnamon-raisin bagel smothered with peanut butter and washed down with some strong coffee. Then I showered (mostly just to wake myself up), brushed my teeth, and got the rest of my stuff together. I loaded the truck with my bike, kissed my sleepy husband goodbye, and headed out the door around 5:45. I cranked up my iPod on the way there, jamming to some upbeat songs, trying to get psyched.
I got to the Y at 6:05. The sun was just beginning to make its grand entrance over the horizon and there were people milling about everywhere. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly once I parked the car. Then I got my bike out and tried to find a decent spot on a rack to hang it. Once the bike was secured, I walked over to the Y entrance and found someone to write all over my arms and legs with black permanent marker. And that someone happened to be Mrs. Roach, the mother of one of my ACA percussion students. She was very kind and encouraging and I was grateful for someone I recognized. Once I was thoroughly tattooed, I returned to my car to get the rest of my stuff. I set it up beside my bike, then went and got my timing chip from inside. I walked back to my vehicle one more time to drop off my bag and extra clothes and put on sunscreen. While on my way, I came across my sister and brother-in-law who had come to take some pictures of me for me before they left for the beach. I spoke to them for a moment and let Ashley take a couple pictures of me before I continued on to my car. Once there I put on sunscreen, unshod my feet, and left all my burdens behind me. My mom pulled up as I was finishing at my truck, but I didn't have time to talk to her because it was 6:45 and all the athletes were lining up by the pool.
Someone important said something important, then someone else prayed, and finally the race began. They let the duathlon athletes go first (there were only about five of them), and then it was our turn. Collectively, that is. It wasn't my personal turn yet. Being number 79, I still had 20 minutes to go before it was actually my turn. While standing in line, I chatted with number 78, a 59 year old woman named Mary. This was her fourth triathlon and she told me that her best event is the run. She seemed nervously excited and talked a lot; but I didn't mind. Her chatter made the time pass by quickly and easily. I was glad to meet her and was able to recognize and talk to her throughout the race.
I'll skip all the boring details of waiting in line and go straight to where I jumped in the pool. So, at about 7:20 I crossed the timing mat and jumped in the pool...
That was when everything suddenly went wrong.
First of all, after being in the warm, humid pool room, I was not expecting, nor was I prepared for, the icy shock I received upon jumping in the pool. If I had had time to think about it, I probably would have been convulsively shivering. But I didn't have time to think about it, so I just started swimming, trying to find my stride. Then the strangest feeling came over me. The best words I can think of to describe the experience are as follows: claustrophobia and panic. I've randomly felt this way before when swimming, but it only lasts for a moment and I've always been able to calm myself down and shrug it off. I couldn't do it today.
I could not believe the battle that was going on in my mind! I was thinking, for no logical reason, "Oh my gosh, I'm going to drown! I can't breathe! I can't do this, I have to get out! I can't finish this race!!!"
The logical me was trying to reason with the hyperventilating me - "No, no, Heather, you're okay! Just calm down and count your strokes."
"NO!!! Get me out of here!!! I'm going to drown!!!"
"Heather! You've trained for this, you've done it before. Just keep swimming, count your strokes and breathe."
"I CAN'T BREATHE!!!"
No joke. It was like a panic attack underwater and I could not compose myself. This went on for about four of the eight laps. In my delirium, I seriously considered just quitting. Fortunately, though, the reasonable recognized that I had worked too long for this to just give up. So, I made a desperate compromise and just stopped mid-lane to float for a few seconds. I couldn't help it. My lungs felt paralyzed with a fear I could not explain and I HAD to gulp some air. After those few seconds that felt like an eternity, I got going again and slowly started to calm down. For the last 150 yards I felt more like myself again and finished the swim in a normal frame of mind. I have no idea what snapped in my psyche at the beginning, but I'm glad God helped me overcome it.
After the swim, I felt great! Well, sort of. Upon completing the swim, I was pretty dizzy running to get my bike. I blame this on a general lack of adequate oxygen during the swim. Just imagine trying to put shoes on while being buzzed and soaking wet and you'll understand a little of how I felt. I even tried putting my helmet on backwards at first. Eventually, though, I got my act together and headed off on my bike. It took me about 50 minutes to complete the bike section, averaging around 15.5 mph. After my swim mishap (and a bad training ride earlier in the week on the same course), I kept anticipating a problem arising. But none did. The air felt cool (actually, downright cold at times), and my legs felt strong.
Once I completed the bike, my legs still felt pretty good; but, after experiencing troubles on the run in the past, I wasn't going to overdo it. So, I started off by walking and kept at a 5 minute run/1 minute walk pace. It was a bit tedious, but it worked. Even my mom was surprised at how quickly I finished the run. At some point during the swim I had passed Mary in front of me. She caught up and passed me in the run. (Go Mary!) She ended up beating me by about a minute and half overall.
I finished the run in approximately 35 minutes, which is my best triathlon run time thus far. Sadly, I came in last in my age group (those darn 27 year olds!) and 78th overall. However, I had a mentally tough swim and still came out with a new personal record finish of 1:41:53, so I can't really complain.
And, it gave me a thirst for more. There's another tri at Furman University on July 14th. That gives me six weeks to train...
(*If you read this, give it a thumbs up on Facebook because sometimes I wonder if I'm just writing to a wall...*)
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Epic Fail
Well... so much for this resolution.
Apparently having one full time job, one part-time job, and one parter-time job, along with all the obligations, duties, and responsibilities of being a wife, sister, daughter, aunt, friend, housekeeper, and triathlete-in-training prevents one from effectively blogging once a week. So, for those one or two fans of mine who had some vague memory of my blog before clicking on this link on Facebook, I am sorry. All of my jobs are finished now, so I promise to try to do better over the summer.
One resolution I haven't dropped completely is participating in one event per month this year. I am over one-fourth of the way through this commitment. So far I have done three 5ks, one 10k, and one mud run. Only seven more events to go! The next two events I have scheduled are a triathlon in only four days, and the infamous Ride to Remember in July. I'll be happy when the triathlon gets here because that means I can finally start focusing on cycling again. Running has its benefits, but it doesn't hold a candle to the freedom and peace I experience while riding. I may also try doing another triathlon in July, only a week before the ride to Chuck Town. I figure I owe it to this awesome possum blessing of a bike to actually use it.
I don't feel as prepared for this tri as I wanted to be because 17 precious first graders have been eating up most of my energy lately; but ready or not, here it comes!
I just hope I don't drown.
Apparently having one full time job, one part-time job, and one parter-time job, along with all the obligations, duties, and responsibilities of being a wife, sister, daughter, aunt, friend, housekeeper, and triathlete-in-training prevents one from effectively blogging once a week. So, for those one or two fans of mine who had some vague memory of my blog before clicking on this link on Facebook, I am sorry. All of my jobs are finished now, so I promise to try to do better over the summer.
One resolution I haven't dropped completely is participating in one event per month this year. I am over one-fourth of the way through this commitment. So far I have done three 5ks, one 10k, and one mud run. Only seven more events to go! The next two events I have scheduled are a triathlon in only four days, and the infamous Ride to Remember in July. I'll be happy when the triathlon gets here because that means I can finally start focusing on cycling again. Running has its benefits, but it doesn't hold a candle to the freedom and peace I experience while riding. I may also try doing another triathlon in July, only a week before the ride to Chuck Town. I figure I owe it to this awesome possum blessing of a bike to actually use it.
I don't feel as prepared for this tri as I wanted to be because 17 precious first graders have been eating up most of my energy lately; but ready or not, here it comes!
I just hope I don't drown.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Just keep swimming...
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
The water is chilly when you first jump in and it gives a mini-shock to your nervous system. But then the smooth, cool silkiness of the water has a soothing effect on tired muscles and an over-stressed mind. You can float along on your back unthinking and let all the worries, wonders, and injustices of life slide off of you. The only thing to see as you float along is the drab, grey concrete ceiling which has, perhaps unwillingly , been privy to many years' worth of exasperated, sputtering sighs and coughs of release from weary bodies seeking their escape.
You could just float on your back for forever, but that's not really what you came here to do. So you flip over at the wall, spread your arms out in front of you and start to glide. Stroke, stroke, stroke... At first you don't have to come up for air every third stroke because your heart isn't racing and your lungs aren't on fire yet. You watch the black line underneath you guide you on your way as your body slices through the lane, faster than you thought you were capable of going. It feels good to keep your face in the water. Refreshing. Eventually, though, your lungs beg for oxygen, and so the work begins.
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
The water is chilly when you first jump in and it gives a mini-shock to your nervous system. But then the smooth, cool silkiness of the water has a soothing effect on tired muscles and an over-stressed mind. You can float along on your back unthinking and let all the worries, wonders, and injustices of life slide off of you. The only thing to see as you float along is the drab, grey concrete ceiling which has, perhaps unwillingly , been privy to many years' worth of exasperated, sputtering sighs and coughs of release from weary bodies seeking their escape.
You could just float on your back for forever, but that's not really what you came here to do. So you flip over at the wall, spread your arms out in front of you and start to glide. Stroke, stroke, stroke... At first you don't have to come up for air every third stroke because your heart isn't racing and your lungs aren't on fire yet. You watch the black line underneath you guide you on your way as your body slices through the lane, faster than you thought you were capable of going. It feels good to keep your face in the water. Refreshing. Eventually, though, your lungs beg for oxygen, and so the work begins.
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
"Let's soak 'em for Crutchy!"
I have good news and bad news.
The good... no, GREAT news is that I successfully finished my first ever 10k run this past Saturday in downtown Greenville. I'm quite proud of this accomplishment! I never thought I would be able to run a full five miles without stopping, much less 6.4. My training for the last two and a half months paid off. I admit that I'm not a great runner. It took me one hour and nine minutes to finish, which put me at running a little less than an eleven minute mile. That isn't a very impressive or amazing time; but I did finish it! My legs actually, and surprisingly, felt very good for the majority of the run. It wasn't until mile five that I really began to tire. Since I wasn't in it to win any prizes or break ay records, I feel that I did a decent job of pacing myself and running within my current limits and ability level.
Now for the bad news... I tried not to broadcast my pain from last week, but following the previous Saturday's 75 minute training run, I had a lot of pain in the outside of my left foot. Initially, I figured it was the typical muscle pain and soreness that often follow strenuous exercise, and thought I would eventually just walk it off. But, as the day wore on, the pain did not decrease. So, like any modern-day human, I looked up my symptoms and pain online and diagnosed myself. I decided I had either bruised my foot, incurred a stress fracture from my foot's constant pounding on the pavement, or I was making the whole thing up. When I awoke Sunday morning, stepped out of bed and felt a sharp pain shoot through my foot, I knew that I hadn't made it up. Even though it felt better as the day wore on, I asked a nurse friend of mine that night what could be the problem. After I explained to her when it started hurting, how it felt, and where on my foot it hurt, she looked at me kindly, with apologetic eyes and said, "Sounds like a stress fracture, Heather."
Shoot. It's not cool to have a possible stress fracture the week before your first ever 10k. I suppose a normal person would have taken the pain and diagnosis to heart, seen a doctor to confirm their fears, and dropped out of the race in order to heal.
Well... I'm a stubborn dummy then because I didn't do any of those things. I was determined to participate in and complete that 10k because I had trained hard for it and because I had never done one before. So, I compromised and withheld from any running or aggressive walking throughout the week so that my foot might heal and I would be fresh for the Reedy River Run. By the end of the week, I wasn't feeling any pain at all and wondered if I had over-exaggerated it in the first place. So to the 10k I went!
Around mile 2 (with 4.4 miles yet to go) I felt that old familiar pain. So I concentrated on running on the inside of my foot to avoid it. I was determined to not stop running and I didn't. But at the finish line, my foot screamed at me. As I limped to the car alongside my friend, Crystal, I knew my running was going to be out of commission for awhile.
I'm trying to take it easy. My plan is to hold off from any serious running for the month of March in hopes that I will be in good shape for the mud run in mid-April. I'm concentrating on swimming and cycling which don't require me to put weight on my foot. Strangely, I'm missing running. Just when I was beginning to get used to it, maybe even enjoy it, I can't do it anymore. At least not for now.
But the good news is I finished a 10k!
The good... no, GREAT news is that I successfully finished my first ever 10k run this past Saturday in downtown Greenville. I'm quite proud of this accomplishment! I never thought I would be able to run a full five miles without stopping, much less 6.4. My training for the last two and a half months paid off. I admit that I'm not a great runner. It took me one hour and nine minutes to finish, which put me at running a little less than an eleven minute mile. That isn't a very impressive or amazing time; but I did finish it! My legs actually, and surprisingly, felt very good for the majority of the run. It wasn't until mile five that I really began to tire. Since I wasn't in it to win any prizes or break ay records, I feel that I did a decent job of pacing myself and running within my current limits and ability level.
Now for the bad news... I tried not to broadcast my pain from last week, but following the previous Saturday's 75 minute training run, I had a lot of pain in the outside of my left foot. Initially, I figured it was the typical muscle pain and soreness that often follow strenuous exercise, and thought I would eventually just walk it off. But, as the day wore on, the pain did not decrease. So, like any modern-day human, I looked up my symptoms and pain online and diagnosed myself. I decided I had either bruised my foot, incurred a stress fracture from my foot's constant pounding on the pavement, or I was making the whole thing up. When I awoke Sunday morning, stepped out of bed and felt a sharp pain shoot through my foot, I knew that I hadn't made it up. Even though it felt better as the day wore on, I asked a nurse friend of mine that night what could be the problem. After I explained to her when it started hurting, how it felt, and where on my foot it hurt, she looked at me kindly, with apologetic eyes and said, "Sounds like a stress fracture, Heather."
Shoot. It's not cool to have a possible stress fracture the week before your first ever 10k. I suppose a normal person would have taken the pain and diagnosis to heart, seen a doctor to confirm their fears, and dropped out of the race in order to heal.
Well... I'm a stubborn dummy then because I didn't do any of those things. I was determined to participate in and complete that 10k because I had trained hard for it and because I had never done one before. So, I compromised and withheld from any running or aggressive walking throughout the week so that my foot might heal and I would be fresh for the Reedy River Run. By the end of the week, I wasn't feeling any pain at all and wondered if I had over-exaggerated it in the first place. So to the 10k I went!
Around mile 2 (with 4.4 miles yet to go) I felt that old familiar pain. So I concentrated on running on the inside of my foot to avoid it. I was determined to not stop running and I didn't. But at the finish line, my foot screamed at me. As I limped to the car alongside my friend, Crystal, I knew my running was going to be out of commission for awhile.
I'm trying to take it easy. My plan is to hold off from any serious running for the month of March in hopes that I will be in good shape for the mud run in mid-April. I'm concentrating on swimming and cycling which don't require me to put weight on my foot. Strangely, I'm missing running. Just when I was beginning to get used to it, maybe even enjoy it, I can't do it anymore. At least not for now.
But the good news is I finished a 10k!
Sunday, February 26, 2012
NEW BIKE!
Do you like my new bike?!? It isn't the best picture because it was taken from my phone, so it doesn't nearly do the machine justice.It is a Giant Aeryn, women-specific triathlon bike. I think it's about 5 years old, but it's been well handled and well cared for by its one and only owner, Karen Czuba. She is a doctor, turned nurse practitioner (because she wanted a lighter work schedule) who works with my father-in-law, Mike Elliott. She and her husband, Jimmy, are cycling and endurance sports enthusiasts. They've participated in many triathlons together, including at least one Ironman. And they're over 50!
They recently decided to buy new tri bikes for themselves, upgrading to Specialized carbon bikes. (The name alone makes me start to drool.) They also decided, in their ever philanthropist nature, not to sell their old tri bikes, but to simply give them away to two very lucky (and perhaps undeserving) amateur athletes on the one condition that the blessed recipients continue doing triathlons with the bikes. Jimmy's bike went to a nice, tall lady who lives in their neighborhood and whom Jimmy had been training to do tris. She was probably well-deserving of such an awesome gift.
And Karen's bike went to me.
I don't deserve it. This bike can probably do triathlons better than me, without me. It's light and fast, small and quaint. It has recently been equipped with a new chain and rear cassette. It's a serious bike, and it's beautiful.
So again, I feel I don't deserve it. Once I brought it home from Jimmy and Karen's house, I tentatively guided it inside and just stared at it. Then I prayed a prayer of thanks, for a gift as unexpected and awesome as this can only come from God. It's as if he was saying, "Happy Birthday, Heather! I love you!"
Such a serious bike comes with serious implications and forces me to ask myself at least one serious question - Do I want to continue participating in athletic events such as triathlons just for fun, or do I want to start training seriously and truly compete in some races? I made a deal: A free bike in exchange for the promise of continuing my athletic ventures. I won't go back on my word. I will train and I will try some tris. But do I have it in me to push myself to the next level? Do I have the necessary self-discipline to get out of bed every morning and force myself to strive harder, to get better? Is winning my age group in a sprint triathlon a feasible goal for me? And is it worth it?
As you can see, I'm not taking this idea lightly. I have this one last week to decide if I have it in me to be seriously competitive and whether or not I'm actually willing to work for it. I'm weighing my options, and the result of this Saturday's 10k may have a strong voice in my decision.
Monday, February 20, 2012
2 of 12
This weekend was a long one, but it was good. I ran my second event of the year on Saturday - the Habitat House 5k at Wofford College. It was a small event, consisting of maybe 50 total runners (and one dog) - a stark contrast to the Reedy River 10k Run I have coming up in less than two weeks where hundreds, if not a thousand or more, runners will clog the streets of downtown Greenville. Still, a 5k is a 5k, and this one wasn't exactly a walk in the park.
I have to admit that I wasn't as prepared for this event as I should have been, I haphazardly, unintentionally took last week off from training because I felt weak and sick for many days. (I blame it on being female.) I ran 3 miles on Monday, then didn't exercise again until the 5k itself. Fortunately, my body was able to adapt and push through it; but it didn't do so easily. I'm still paying the price for a week of slacking off in the form of sore legs.
For the record, I wish they wouldn't start a race by saying "On your mark; Get set; GO!" because it triggers some unstoppable adrenaline gush inside that completely nullifies all logic and reason within me and causes me to sprint from the start line to try keeping up with the front of the pack instead of remembering that - at least for me - it is an endurance race and not a 50-yard dash. Obviously, as I am taking the time to write about it, this is what I did on Saturday. They yelled "GO!" and I went! My sprint lasted for approximately two minutes before I realized what I had done. I began wondering why my legs were getting tired so quickly, and, when I figured it out, I slowed way down. The next 30 minutes probably would have been easily bearable if there hadn't been so many hills. It seemed like every corner we turned provided either an uphill or a downhill. Descents are a lot of fun on a bicycle - you just hold on for the ride and let the wheels do all the work. It's not as much fun on your feet. If you don't try to control your speed and body position, you could go sprawling on your face. (I've actually done that sort of thing on a bike before. It's not as fun as it sounds.)
Long story short, I finished the run despite being undertrained for the week and having to tackle many hills. It's hard to say how my timing was because I believe their timer was wrong, and I forgot to set my own stopwatch. I'm going to guess, though, that I ran just over a 10 minute mile. That's decent enough for me, especially with so many hills. I'm sure my average will be much lower for the 10k, but I'm okay with that too, since my goals for that race are to (hopefully) not stop running, and to make it to the finish line in one piece.
I did not do this race alone. My gallant husband, Frac, and fearless friend, Crystal, ran it with me. Frac even ran an extra few tenths of a mile to Krispy Kreme because there wasn't an aide yet stationed at Wofford's entrance to direct the runners the correct way. (He still beat me by several minutes.) My faithful mom was also there to take pictures, along with my mostly-precious nephew, Zeke. I think events like this are always more fun when you bring an entourage of people to enjoy it with you and support you.
I wanted to write about the rest of my weekend, including my new bicycle, but this entry seems long enough on its own. I guess it will have to wait 'til next time...
I have to admit that I wasn't as prepared for this event as I should have been, I haphazardly, unintentionally took last week off from training because I felt weak and sick for many days. (I blame it on being female.) I ran 3 miles on Monday, then didn't exercise again until the 5k itself. Fortunately, my body was able to adapt and push through it; but it didn't do so easily. I'm still paying the price for a week of slacking off in the form of sore legs.
For the record, I wish they wouldn't start a race by saying "On your mark; Get set; GO!" because it triggers some unstoppable adrenaline gush inside that completely nullifies all logic and reason within me and causes me to sprint from the start line to try keeping up with the front of the pack instead of remembering that - at least for me - it is an endurance race and not a 50-yard dash. Obviously, as I am taking the time to write about it, this is what I did on Saturday. They yelled "GO!" and I went! My sprint lasted for approximately two minutes before I realized what I had done. I began wondering why my legs were getting tired so quickly, and, when I figured it out, I slowed way down. The next 30 minutes probably would have been easily bearable if there hadn't been so many hills. It seemed like every corner we turned provided either an uphill or a downhill. Descents are a lot of fun on a bicycle - you just hold on for the ride and let the wheels do all the work. It's not as much fun on your feet. If you don't try to control your speed and body position, you could go sprawling on your face. (I've actually done that sort of thing on a bike before. It's not as fun as it sounds.)
Long story short, I finished the run despite being undertrained for the week and having to tackle many hills. It's hard to say how my timing was because I believe their timer was wrong, and I forgot to set my own stopwatch. I'm going to guess, though, that I ran just over a 10 minute mile. That's decent enough for me, especially with so many hills. I'm sure my average will be much lower for the 10k, but I'm okay with that too, since my goals for that race are to (hopefully) not stop running, and to make it to the finish line in one piece.
I did not do this race alone. My gallant husband, Frac, and fearless friend, Crystal, ran it with me. Frac even ran an extra few tenths of a mile to Krispy Kreme because there wasn't an aide yet stationed at Wofford's entrance to direct the runners the correct way. (He still beat me by several minutes.) My faithful mom was also there to take pictures, along with my mostly-precious nephew, Zeke. I think events like this are always more fun when you bring an entourage of people to enjoy it with you and support you.
I wanted to write about the rest of my weekend, including my new bicycle, but this entry seems long enough on its own. I guess it will have to wait 'til next time...
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Grrrrr
I am very frustrated with myself right now. Firstly, I'm disappointed with myself for not writing something on here last week; but that's not all that important.
I'm actually frustrated with many different aspects of my life, but especially with my health. I am a living example of Romans 7...
"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing. Now, if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it." Romans 7:15-20
A little confusing, perhaps, but true. This goes for obeying God, for relationships, for finances, etc. And for my physical well-being.
I am well enough educated to know that it is better to eat a grilled chicken salad than a cheeseburger and fries. I also know that my body is made up of at least 80% water, which I should drink regularly and continually. And Cherry Coke, though tantalizing to my taste buds, holds no nutritional value whatsoever.
However, given the option between the salad and the cheeseburger, I will inevitably choose the cheesey, greasy goodness 9 times out of 10 because - let's face it - it's at least 90% yummier in most (if not all) taste tests. And I will eat the french fries with it, wash it down with Cherry Coke, then probably top it off with a brownie or some other chocolatey delight.
Sigh. (*Sidenote: My husband hates it when I write out the word 'sigh.' Sorry, Frac.*) I wish I had the same self-discipline with eating well as I do with exercising and training; but, I don't. It's a real struggle for me. Exercising comes fairly naturally. I like the way it makes me feel, I like the euphoric sense of accomplishment when I am done, and I enjoy getting out of the house every once in awhile to do so. But healthy eating isn't so innate. Despite knowing that vegetables, water, whole grains, and lean proteins are good for me and are the best kind of fuel for my body, I usually end up letting my taste buds make all the decisions. Bad decisions.
1 Corinthians 6:19 says to honor God with your body. Of course, this verse could be applied to any number of temptations or stumbling blocks in our lives; but presently it reminds me that I don't have this body for very long and I need to honor God by treating it well and perhaps even setting a good example for others. Daniel recognized this when he was put in the king's court. He refused to eat the king's select feasts and insisted that he be able to eat his healthy diet of vegetables instead. He told his immediate supervisor to just let him try it out for a few weeks and he would prove that his way of eating was better. And he was right!
I'm trying to be better. Sort of. I'm not doing a very good job, though. I feel much more enabled and disciplined in this regard when I'm playing Game On, where I have constant encouragement from others. Without someone staying on top of me about being consistently healthy, I fail quickly.
So, I'll encourage you if you'll encourage me.
I'm actually frustrated with many different aspects of my life, but especially with my health. I am a living example of Romans 7...
"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing. Now, if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it." Romans 7:15-20
A little confusing, perhaps, but true. This goes for obeying God, for relationships, for finances, etc. And for my physical well-being.
I am well enough educated to know that it is better to eat a grilled chicken salad than a cheeseburger and fries. I also know that my body is made up of at least 80% water, which I should drink regularly and continually. And Cherry Coke, though tantalizing to my taste buds, holds no nutritional value whatsoever.
However, given the option between the salad and the cheeseburger, I will inevitably choose the cheesey, greasy goodness 9 times out of 10 because - let's face it - it's at least 90% yummier in most (if not all) taste tests. And I will eat the french fries with it, wash it down with Cherry Coke, then probably top it off with a brownie or some other chocolatey delight.
Sigh. (*Sidenote: My husband hates it when I write out the word 'sigh.' Sorry, Frac.*) I wish I had the same self-discipline with eating well as I do with exercising and training; but, I don't. It's a real struggle for me. Exercising comes fairly naturally. I like the way it makes me feel, I like the euphoric sense of accomplishment when I am done, and I enjoy getting out of the house every once in awhile to do so. But healthy eating isn't so innate. Despite knowing that vegetables, water, whole grains, and lean proteins are good for me and are the best kind of fuel for my body, I usually end up letting my taste buds make all the decisions. Bad decisions.
1 Corinthians 6:19 says to honor God with your body. Of course, this verse could be applied to any number of temptations or stumbling blocks in our lives; but presently it reminds me that I don't have this body for very long and I need to honor God by treating it well and perhaps even setting a good example for others. Daniel recognized this when he was put in the king's court. He refused to eat the king's select feasts and insisted that he be able to eat his healthy diet of vegetables instead. He told his immediate supervisor to just let him try it out for a few weeks and he would prove that his way of eating was better. And he was right!
I'm trying to be better. Sort of. I'm not doing a very good job, though. I feel much more enabled and disciplined in this regard when I'm playing Game On, where I have constant encouragement from others. Without someone staying on top of me about being consistently healthy, I fail quickly.
So, I'll encourage you if you'll encourage me.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
No Train, No Gain
I have quite a few very random, very unrelated thoughts swimming around in my head that I believed, in a moment of caffeinated delusion, would make a perfectly arbitrary blog that you who are reading this could easily be tricked into... well, reading. So, here they are, in no particular order:
(DISCLAIMER: Please accept my pre-emptive apologies for the potential time you will have wasted reading this. I promise the future of my blog is significantly brighter.)
At 8:00 this morning, I had a full cup of strongly caffeinated coffee made by some spanish-speaking country. It has been five hours since then and the effects have not yet worn off. Those who know me well understand how crazy and energized caffeine makes me and could possibly be laughing at the way my writing style closely resembles my stream of consciousness while affected by said drug. This behavior leads me to believe that I should reserve my spanish coffee exclusively for race days. (And maybe my birthday, just for fun.)
I am thoroughly enjoying the shirt I'm wearing today! It is soft, warm, and loose-fitting. I won't lie, I bought it from the little boys' section at Kohl's. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I would like to get another one just like it, but in black. (This one is white.)
I still really like Relient K.
There's another shirt in the Kohl's boys' section that I would like. It's an athletic shirt that says "No Train No Gain." Seems fitting. (hehe) Or maybe I could just make myself a sign that says that.
I just watched a series of promotional videos for the Spartan Race (http://www.spartanrace.com/), and I am PUMPED! The Spartan Race is a series of muddy, trail running obstacle courses of varying distances that are held all over America, Canada, and the United Kingdom. The obstacles are insanely tough and you really would have to have the heart of a Spartan to do it. I think people who try them must be madmen and women; and I wonder if I'm mad enough to be able to endure it...
I signed up for a 10k run!!! You might think I'm crazy, but you didn't just watch videos about the Spartan Race. A 10k should be a cakewalk compared to that!
Still, it will be the farthest distance I've ever been on foot; so it actually won't be a walk in the park for me. I can't decide if I want my goal to be just to finish it by any means necessary, or to run the whole way. Of course, I'd like to run the whole time, but what if my knees can't handle it? (In case you were curious from the last post as to why I don't like to run, it's because I seem to have inherited my parents' knees. And that's not a good thing.) But I want this year to be memorable, and attempting a feat I've never done before certainly seems memorable. I have found a 5 week training plan and I'm going to do my best to stick to it. I've also enlisted the partnership of a friend at work to train and do it with me. (I even gave her a training plan before I asked her if she would do it - how creepy is that??) At the moment, I'm particularly excited about boldly going where I've never gone before; but once the caffeine wears off, my thoughts may change to self-loathing.
I'm singing in church on Sunday. I've never done that before either... I'm terrified.
(DISCLAIMER: Please accept my pre-emptive apologies for the potential time you will have wasted reading this. I promise the future of my blog is significantly brighter.)
At 8:00 this morning, I had a full cup of strongly caffeinated coffee made by some spanish-speaking country. It has been five hours since then and the effects have not yet worn off. Those who know me well understand how crazy and energized caffeine makes me and could possibly be laughing at the way my writing style closely resembles my stream of consciousness while affected by said drug. This behavior leads me to believe that I should reserve my spanish coffee exclusively for race days. (And maybe my birthday, just for fun.)
I am thoroughly enjoying the shirt I'm wearing today! It is soft, warm, and loose-fitting. I won't lie, I bought it from the little boys' section at Kohl's. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I would like to get another one just like it, but in black. (This one is white.)
I still really like Relient K.
There's another shirt in the Kohl's boys' section that I would like. It's an athletic shirt that says "No Train No Gain." Seems fitting. (hehe) Or maybe I could just make myself a sign that says that.
I just watched a series of promotional videos for the Spartan Race (http://www.spartanrace.com/), and I am PUMPED! The Spartan Race is a series of muddy, trail running obstacle courses of varying distances that are held all over America, Canada, and the United Kingdom. The obstacles are insanely tough and you really would have to have the heart of a Spartan to do it. I think people who try them must be madmen and women; and I wonder if I'm mad enough to be able to endure it...
I signed up for a 10k run!!! You might think I'm crazy, but you didn't just watch videos about the Spartan Race. A 10k should be a cakewalk compared to that!
Still, it will be the farthest distance I've ever been on foot; so it actually won't be a walk in the park for me. I can't decide if I want my goal to be just to finish it by any means necessary, or to run the whole way. Of course, I'd like to run the whole time, but what if my knees can't handle it? (In case you were curious from the last post as to why I don't like to run, it's because I seem to have inherited my parents' knees. And that's not a good thing.) But I want this year to be memorable, and attempting a feat I've never done before certainly seems memorable. I have found a 5 week training plan and I'm going to do my best to stick to it. I've also enlisted the partnership of a friend at work to train and do it with me. (I even gave her a training plan before I asked her if she would do it - how creepy is that??) At the moment, I'm particularly excited about boldly going where I've never gone before; but once the caffeine wears off, my thoughts may change to self-loathing.
I'm singing in church on Sunday. I've never done that before either... I'm terrified.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
KKKKK
I successfullly completed my first event of 2012 today - The Greenville News Run Downtown 5k Road Race. (I feel they should look into shortening the name.) With that said, I shall now detract from all accomplishment and pride potentially perceived in the previous statement by admitting that I don't like running.
Usually when I say that, people ask me why I do it. In short, it's because running is a part of triathlons and I like triathlons. So, now that that's out of the way...
I got up at 6:30 this morning in such great pain that only females would understand. I worried that it could be my downfall before I even had a chance to start. But I got up anyway and took a hot shower to wake myself up and ease the pain. Once I finished, I peeked outside to see what the weather had decided to do. As it turns out, it was pouring rain. Shoot.
I made myself the breakfast of champions - a peanut butter and banana sandwich - with a strong cup of coffee. I consumed it quickly and quietly, washing it down with a pair of Tylenol. I checked outside again and it was indeed still raining heartily. Sigh. I gathered some clothes together to change into after I presumably got soaked from running for 40 or so minutes in the flood, and headed out the door around 7:45.
I brought my iPod with me and turned up some of my favorite oldies on the drive there to keep my mind off the rain and my pain. It rained hard the whole way to Greenville and I dreaded the run more and more with every passing mile. I finally arrived and found a parking spot somewhere off the beaten path. Once there, I responded to the encouraging texts of my mom and sister-in-law, got all my stuff together, and said a short, sincere prayer asking for the strength to not stop running and for a break from the cold rain. I opened the car door and let the outside chilll serve as a wake up call to my nerves and muscles. As I made my way to the start, I noticed it had stopped raining. I was okay with that.
If you have never done a run, a ride, or some other similar event, you are missing out! It is difficult to find the right combination of words to describe the excitement you feel at the beginning of one of these events. The anticipation is almost tangible as everyone walks, jogs, and jumps around nervously, waiting to prove to themselves, and perhaps others, their ability to accomplish something amazing. (And there always seems to be very loud music to walk, jog, and jump around to. That's how you know you're in the right place - heart-pumping, brain-pulsating rock and roll.) There were people there of all shapes, sizes, ages, genders, and backgrounds. Some were there to come in first place, some wanted to set a new personal record, and some just wanted to finish. Whatever their goal may have been, their mere presence there on a cold, rainy, January day was likely their biggest and hardest step in achieving it.
I shuffled about for nearly 20 minutes, trying to warm up my muscles and my skin without wearing myself out. With nearly 15 minutes left until the start of the run, I found a niche in the middle of the pack and waited for someone at the front to say "Go!" There was a muffled voice on a loudspeaker periodically reminding us that the minutes were ticking by, but I could never really understand what it was saying because there was so much chattering going on around me. Eventually, the national anthem began and a complete hush trickled over the crowd from the front to the back, like a wave at a football stadium. I felt very patriotic in that moment and grateful to know that the Star Spangled Banner still demands respect and awe from its country's citizens.
Soon after we followed the anthem with loud, amibitious cheers, the run began at the muffled voice's energized "GO!" I watched as the crowd in front of me began to inch forward slowly as everyone's breath rose in the air in forceful, steamy puffs. I was freezing and wishing I had brought some gloves with me; but I knew that I would warm up quickly once I really got moving. It still wasn't raining as we got started and I was thankful for that. Along the sidewalks lining the run course were people holding political signs, trying to convince us at the last moment to go vote for their beloved candidate. All it did for me was entice the fleeting thought of "Oh yeah, I need to vote today!"
The first mile went by fairly quickly. Before I knew it, I was passing the first mile marker. I checked my watch and saw that it had taken me 11:11 to go the first mile. That was nearly 1:30 a mile faster than I had done on my training run on Sunday. So, I kept plugging along, trying not to think too much. Approximately ten relatively non-eventful minutes later, I passed the 2nd mile marker, again without too much difficulty. "Wow!" I thought, "I'm doing it!"
Then there was a hill. A stupid, merciless hill. Many of the runners directly in front of me were defeated by the mini mountain and decided to walk. Not me, though. I kept jogging. My one and only real goal for this run was to keep running no matter what, and I wasn't going to let this hilll be the thing that stole my goal. So I kept shuffling my way up, up, and up. In the end, the hilll didn't defeat me, but it did rob me of a great deal of energy. During the last three-fourths of a mile, it was all I could do to keep my legs trotting. But I did.
Eventually, I turned a corner onto Main Street and could hear the music coming from the finish line. As I realized the end was easily within reach, it began to drizzle again. At that point, though, I didn't care about the rain, my finish time, or even voting. I just wanted to finish. I forced my legs to pound faster, all the while thinking, "Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall..." because there were parts on the road that were much more slippery than others. I figured it would be just my luck to nearly make it to the finish line, only to slip in a huge puddle and go sprawling, landing on my face.
Fortunately, though, the Lord kept me upright, and I finished! My unofficial time (according to my stopwatch) was 33 minutes on the dot. That's not awesome, but it's nothing to complain about for the first run of the season. Once done, I handed in my time chip and walked around, trying to let my breath slow down. I was extremely thirsty and looked everywhere for the line of runners getting their free water bottle, but to no avail. A mere five minutes following my finish, I was slowly on my way to my car. Usually at events like this I have some reason for staying, whether it be a free meal, or my awesome, faithful fan club (a.k.a. family) snapping pictures. But today there was neither, so I saw no point in sticking around in the cold. All the sweat I had worked up during the run was now making my clothes stick to my skin and making me colder than ever.
I walked solemnly to my car, pondering all I had accomplished in just over 30 minutes. As I went, I again noticed the rain coming down. I stopped because I realized God had answered my short, imploring prayer for momentary relief from His rain for the duration of the run. In that moment, I felt incredibly humbled. So I stopped. I stopped and thanked Him for keeping the rain at bay for just a little while, and for giving me a body that can do amazing feats. It was a personal, spiritual moment that I can't truly describe; so I won't bother trying. Suffice to say, I became teary eyed at the prospect of my larger-than-life God taking time to listen to and celebrate with His one-out-of-a-gazillion daughter.
As I said, I don't really like running. At least not all the time. But I will do it because I can. I will do it as long as I can. One day the opportunity to do so will have run its course and I will be the one on the sidelines cheering on another determined athlete. But until then, I'll run in the cold, the rain, the heat, and the impossible just because I can.
And so the season begins...
Usually when I say that, people ask me why I do it. In short, it's because running is a part of triathlons and I like triathlons. So, now that that's out of the way...
I got up at 6:30 this morning in such great pain that only females would understand. I worried that it could be my downfall before I even had a chance to start. But I got up anyway and took a hot shower to wake myself up and ease the pain. Once I finished, I peeked outside to see what the weather had decided to do. As it turns out, it was pouring rain. Shoot.
I made myself the breakfast of champions - a peanut butter and banana sandwich - with a strong cup of coffee. I consumed it quickly and quietly, washing it down with a pair of Tylenol. I checked outside again and it was indeed still raining heartily. Sigh. I gathered some clothes together to change into after I presumably got soaked from running for 40 or so minutes in the flood, and headed out the door around 7:45.
I brought my iPod with me and turned up some of my favorite oldies on the drive there to keep my mind off the rain and my pain. It rained hard the whole way to Greenville and I dreaded the run more and more with every passing mile. I finally arrived and found a parking spot somewhere off the beaten path. Once there, I responded to the encouraging texts of my mom and sister-in-law, got all my stuff together, and said a short, sincere prayer asking for the strength to not stop running and for a break from the cold rain. I opened the car door and let the outside chilll serve as a wake up call to my nerves and muscles. As I made my way to the start, I noticed it had stopped raining. I was okay with that.
If you have never done a run, a ride, or some other similar event, you are missing out! It is difficult to find the right combination of words to describe the excitement you feel at the beginning of one of these events. The anticipation is almost tangible as everyone walks, jogs, and jumps around nervously, waiting to prove to themselves, and perhaps others, their ability to accomplish something amazing. (And there always seems to be very loud music to walk, jog, and jump around to. That's how you know you're in the right place - heart-pumping, brain-pulsating rock and roll.) There were people there of all shapes, sizes, ages, genders, and backgrounds. Some were there to come in first place, some wanted to set a new personal record, and some just wanted to finish. Whatever their goal may have been, their mere presence there on a cold, rainy, January day was likely their biggest and hardest step in achieving it.
I shuffled about for nearly 20 minutes, trying to warm up my muscles and my skin without wearing myself out. With nearly 15 minutes left until the start of the run, I found a niche in the middle of the pack and waited for someone at the front to say "Go!" There was a muffled voice on a loudspeaker periodically reminding us that the minutes were ticking by, but I could never really understand what it was saying because there was so much chattering going on around me. Eventually, the national anthem began and a complete hush trickled over the crowd from the front to the back, like a wave at a football stadium. I felt very patriotic in that moment and grateful to know that the Star Spangled Banner still demands respect and awe from its country's citizens.
Soon after we followed the anthem with loud, amibitious cheers, the run began at the muffled voice's energized "GO!" I watched as the crowd in front of me began to inch forward slowly as everyone's breath rose in the air in forceful, steamy puffs. I was freezing and wishing I had brought some gloves with me; but I knew that I would warm up quickly once I really got moving. It still wasn't raining as we got started and I was thankful for that. Along the sidewalks lining the run course were people holding political signs, trying to convince us at the last moment to go vote for their beloved candidate. All it did for me was entice the fleeting thought of "Oh yeah, I need to vote today!"
The first mile went by fairly quickly. Before I knew it, I was passing the first mile marker. I checked my watch and saw that it had taken me 11:11 to go the first mile. That was nearly 1:30 a mile faster than I had done on my training run on Sunday. So, I kept plugging along, trying not to think too much. Approximately ten relatively non-eventful minutes later, I passed the 2nd mile marker, again without too much difficulty. "Wow!" I thought, "I'm doing it!"
Then there was a hill. A stupid, merciless hill. Many of the runners directly in front of me were defeated by the mini mountain and decided to walk. Not me, though. I kept jogging. My one and only real goal for this run was to keep running no matter what, and I wasn't going to let this hilll be the thing that stole my goal. So I kept shuffling my way up, up, and up. In the end, the hilll didn't defeat me, but it did rob me of a great deal of energy. During the last three-fourths of a mile, it was all I could do to keep my legs trotting. But I did.
Eventually, I turned a corner onto Main Street and could hear the music coming from the finish line. As I realized the end was easily within reach, it began to drizzle again. At that point, though, I didn't care about the rain, my finish time, or even voting. I just wanted to finish. I forced my legs to pound faster, all the while thinking, "Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall..." because there were parts on the road that were much more slippery than others. I figured it would be just my luck to nearly make it to the finish line, only to slip in a huge puddle and go sprawling, landing on my face.
Fortunately, though, the Lord kept me upright, and I finished! My unofficial time (according to my stopwatch) was 33 minutes on the dot. That's not awesome, but it's nothing to complain about for the first run of the season. Once done, I handed in my time chip and walked around, trying to let my breath slow down. I was extremely thirsty and looked everywhere for the line of runners getting their free water bottle, but to no avail. A mere five minutes following my finish, I was slowly on my way to my car. Usually at events like this I have some reason for staying, whether it be a free meal, or my awesome, faithful fan club (a.k.a. family) snapping pictures. But today there was neither, so I saw no point in sticking around in the cold. All the sweat I had worked up during the run was now making my clothes stick to my skin and making me colder than ever.
I walked solemnly to my car, pondering all I had accomplished in just over 30 minutes. As I went, I again noticed the rain coming down. I stopped because I realized God had answered my short, imploring prayer for momentary relief from His rain for the duration of the run. In that moment, I felt incredibly humbled. So I stopped. I stopped and thanked Him for keeping the rain at bay for just a little while, and for giving me a body that can do amazing feats. It was a personal, spiritual moment that I can't truly describe; so I won't bother trying. Suffice to say, I became teary eyed at the prospect of my larger-than-life God taking time to listen to and celebrate with His one-out-of-a-gazillion daughter.
As I said, I don't really like running. At least not all the time. But I will do it because I can. I will do it as long as I can. One day the opportunity to do so will have run its course and I will be the one on the sidelines cheering on another determined athlete. But until then, I'll run in the cold, the rain, the heat, and the impossible just because I can.
And so the season begins...
Monday, January 16, 2012
To be (awesome)? Or not to be (awesome)?
Saturday I was spending some time with my mom and my precious 6-year old nephew, Zeke. While I was there, he turned on the TV and coverage of the 2012 Olympic marathon trials appeared. He got very excited and said, "Look Heather! People running!" I told him that was cool and we talked about what the runners were wearing, why they were running, and other stuff. Then he paused, got a very quizzical look on his face, and asked, "But Heather, why aren't you running in it?" Haha... the Olympic marathon trials?? Yeah right!!
I love kids. I love how they can humble you in just a few words by innocently and unknowingly pointing out your weaknesses and mistakes. And I also love how they look up to you with wide eyes, believing that you, the big person, are a superhero and can single-handedly take on the world. They can make you feel like a million bucks!
My sweet Zeke has seen me do a few different races in his lifetime. He even ran the last couple yards of my first triathlon behind me, crossing the finish line hot on my heels. (He was 3 at the time.) So, of course he thinks his Aunt Heather is Wonder Woman and can do any race, anytime, anywhere. That's not true, obviously, but it's encouraging and sweet to know he has so much innocent confidence in me.
So what is the point of this blog? It is to encourage and empower you (and me)! Philippians 4:13 says "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." It says all things. Not just a few things. That means I could potentially be the president one day if I trust in Him to get me there! (Don't worry, I have no real aspirations of becoming president... but I could.) On a much simpler level, it means that I can physically handle doing 12 events this year and completing every single one. As I train and endure the long hours, extreme cold, intense heat, and everything in between, my God will strengthen me. If I put Him first, I believe He will bless my efforts to keep His temple in tip-top shape.
So, who knows, maybe some day I will run a marathon. I've already been surprised and amazed at what my body can do. When I first began to ride my bike seriously, I could barely make it to the end of my road and back home without stopping to gulp in air. Since then I have climbed Mt. Marion on my bike and ridden to Charleston. Twice. God has created our bodies as amazing machines to do amazing things; but most of us don't even give ourselves a chance to try to be great. It's much safer on the couch.
You can do all things through Him... but you have to start with something.
I love kids. I love how they can humble you in just a few words by innocently and unknowingly pointing out your weaknesses and mistakes. And I also love how they look up to you with wide eyes, believing that you, the big person, are a superhero and can single-handedly take on the world. They can make you feel like a million bucks!
My sweet Zeke has seen me do a few different races in his lifetime. He even ran the last couple yards of my first triathlon behind me, crossing the finish line hot on my heels. (He was 3 at the time.) So, of course he thinks his Aunt Heather is Wonder Woman and can do any race, anytime, anywhere. That's not true, obviously, but it's encouraging and sweet to know he has so much innocent confidence in me.
So what is the point of this blog? It is to encourage and empower you (and me)! Philippians 4:13 says "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." It says all things. Not just a few things. That means I could potentially be the president one day if I trust in Him to get me there! (Don't worry, I have no real aspirations of becoming president... but I could.) On a much simpler level, it means that I can physically handle doing 12 events this year and completing every single one. As I train and endure the long hours, extreme cold, intense heat, and everything in between, my God will strengthen me. If I put Him first, I believe He will bless my efforts to keep His temple in tip-top shape.
So, who knows, maybe some day I will run a marathon. I've already been surprised and amazed at what my body can do. When I first began to ride my bike seriously, I could barely make it to the end of my road and back home without stopping to gulp in air. Since then I have climbed Mt. Marion on my bike and ridden to Charleston. Twice. God has created our bodies as amazing machines to do amazing things; but most of us don't even give ourselves a chance to try to be great. It's much safer on the couch.
You can do all things through Him... but you have to start with something.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Roarin' 20s!
Happy New Year! It's 2012, the year of the... the um... probably the... well, who really cares about that anyway?
Most important to me is the fact that this year will be my last one in my 20s. I turn 29 on February 19th, which gives me a meager 12-month last chance to live out loud.
Now, I realize being 30 won't be much different than 29 or even 28, and that I shouldn't put too much emphasis on it. In fact, I should consider it a rite of passage! Many great humans' best works were birthed in their 30s, and many great careers began at 30. In the Bible alone, there are at least three honorable 30-year olds: Joseph became second-in-command of Egypt at 30; David was crowned king of Israel at 30; Jesus was 30 when He began His ministry. So, technically, I should be excited to shake off these twenties and enter a new age bracket...
But I'm not. Actually, I'm not as stressed, worried, or grieved about it as it may sound. I just don't want to grow up. I fear that people will suddenly realize the secret that I've been a kid all this time and have actually gotten away with it until now. I fear 30 will come and I'll finally be forced to be an adult. So, I'm not stressed, per se, just bummed.
With all that said, I've decided to attempt to make this year a memorable one. In order to help me do so, I've made a few resolutions...
1. I want to do one athletic event a month for the whole year, whether it be a run, a ride, a triathlon, an obstacle course, etc. Doing so will hopefully force me to stay moderately fit throughout the year as I continually train week by week. This feat should also earn me 12 new t-shirts by the end of the year for which I have no room but will gladly accept anyway. So far, I have already registered for the Greenville News Downtown 5k on January 21st and the Habitat for Humanity 5k at Wofford College on February 18th.
2. I want to lost one pound a month for the whole year. Logically, this puts me down a whole, healthy 12 pounds at the end of 2012. I like this idea. :) Hopefully, doing one event a month will help allow this second resolution to be completed with relative ease.
3. I would like to try posting on this blog at least once a week. I don't have any rational explanation for this resolution, and I am obviously already a week behind in keeping it; but, it still seems like a good idea. Better late than never.
4. This year I need to focus on being content. Lately, I've been dreaming about the future, wanting my career, and consequently my life, to hurry up and get jump started so I can finally begin to enjoy all those dreams and desires I've had to do without my whole life. But I have also felt convicted lately about not appreciating and being grateful for the many blessings I already have. So, I want to revise the "American Dream" for myself and simply enjoy what life has to offer for me in the here and now. God knows my future and I shall entrust it to Him. Result: contentment.
I have other, more personal resolutions that I won't list here. All of them are important to me, though, and I'll appreciate any and all encouragement and accountability there is to offer.
Here's a toast to 2012! Huzzah!
Most important to me is the fact that this year will be my last one in my 20s. I turn 29 on February 19th, which gives me a meager 12-month last chance to live out loud.
Now, I realize being 30 won't be much different than 29 or even 28, and that I shouldn't put too much emphasis on it. In fact, I should consider it a rite of passage! Many great humans' best works were birthed in their 30s, and many great careers began at 30. In the Bible alone, there are at least three honorable 30-year olds: Joseph became second-in-command of Egypt at 30; David was crowned king of Israel at 30; Jesus was 30 when He began His ministry. So, technically, I should be excited to shake off these twenties and enter a new age bracket...
But I'm not. Actually, I'm not as stressed, worried, or grieved about it as it may sound. I just don't want to grow up. I fear that people will suddenly realize the secret that I've been a kid all this time and have actually gotten away with it until now. I fear 30 will come and I'll finally be forced to be an adult. So, I'm not stressed, per se, just bummed.
With all that said, I've decided to attempt to make this year a memorable one. In order to help me do so, I've made a few resolutions...
1. I want to do one athletic event a month for the whole year, whether it be a run, a ride, a triathlon, an obstacle course, etc. Doing so will hopefully force me to stay moderately fit throughout the year as I continually train week by week. This feat should also earn me 12 new t-shirts by the end of the year for which I have no room but will gladly accept anyway. So far, I have already registered for the Greenville News Downtown 5k on January 21st and the Habitat for Humanity 5k at Wofford College on February 18th.
2. I want to lost one pound a month for the whole year. Logically, this puts me down a whole, healthy 12 pounds at the end of 2012. I like this idea. :) Hopefully, doing one event a month will help allow this second resolution to be completed with relative ease.
3. I would like to try posting on this blog at least once a week. I don't have any rational explanation for this resolution, and I am obviously already a week behind in keeping it; but, it still seems like a good idea. Better late than never.
4. This year I need to focus on being content. Lately, I've been dreaming about the future, wanting my career, and consequently my life, to hurry up and get jump started so I can finally begin to enjoy all those dreams and desires I've had to do without my whole life. But I have also felt convicted lately about not appreciating and being grateful for the many blessings I already have. So, I want to revise the "American Dream" for myself and simply enjoy what life has to offer for me in the here and now. God knows my future and I shall entrust it to Him. Result: contentment.
I have other, more personal resolutions that I won't list here. All of them are important to me, though, and I'll appreciate any and all encouragement and accountability there is to offer.
Here's a toast to 2012! Huzzah!
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