I only yesterday realized the difficulty of what I had done. I finally was able to get a 9 mile training run in outside (in hopes I don't keel over during my first half-marathon of the year in Waukesha next week.) I felt pretty good throughout, but started to feel a bit gassed at mile 8. I said to myself, this is exactly how I feel after a tough 5K on snowshoes.
I started snowshoeing last year for that famous reason women do so many foolish things: a dude. I hated it. Every race felt like a trail run, where you have to watch every step to avoid going butt over teakettle. Too stressful. But somehow I managed to complete 4 races last year, and just missed winning a series award by one race. That bugged me: it felt like unfinished business. I had always wanted to be in a series, but aside from a few virtual ones, there weren't any running series in my area.
But things changed in the short period between winter and winter (it ended in late April, and began again in mid-November.) The dude and I parted ways, and then he was severely injured in a logging accident in October. There would be no snowshoeing for him in 2014. Then it starting snowing. And snowing. This year the trails would not have menacing roots hiding just beneath the snowy surface. Unless it was a spectacularly epic fall, the only thing you would hurt is your pride.
So I began the season with two goals in mind: to win an award from the Braveheart Snowshoe Series and to prove that life goes on without the man. I actually accomplished two more things I didn't think were possible.
I actually started practicing right after the first snow. The first time out was very similar to the previous season, but by the second snowfall, we had plenty of the white stuff. I found that if I could snowshoe on the street for less than half a mile, I could snowshoe right to the village park. I was quite worried that the residents in that area would yell at me for messing up the streets with my crampons (one neighbor especially) but they were all quite supportive. While on Christmas vacation, I did a candlelight snowshoe hike, and a daylight hike on Rib Mountain the next day. So I was prepared when the season started in Rib Lake, the site of my first ever (bad) snowshoe experience the year before. That first race went fine, and the next weekend I doubled with races in Rhinelander and Minocqua. Fresh snow made Rhinelander very tough, and the course in Minocqua had some technical stuff in it that would have had me bawling the year before. But I survived.
Then a strange thing happened. I found myself actually enjoying it. Due to cold and snow, snowshoeing became the only way to get an outside workout. The peacefulness of the woods just did something to me. Jolly (ie drunken) locals made Perkinstown and Athens fun, and the beautifully groomed trails of Iola were a joy. While my friends were busy trying to qualify for the Nationals, I was busy having a few brewskis and collecting a few door prizes. I had given up on ever getting a medal, so I just tried to make sure I was doing better than the year before. Then word got out that because of the extreme cold, a person could qualify for the Nationals at the Phillips race with just a 5k (usually it requires a 10k.) I knew my chances of having enough $$$$ to go to Vermont were slim, but I thought, wouldn't it be a gas just to say I qualified for a national championship in ANYTHING?!?
The roads were bad the morning of that race, but thanks to a determined friend, we got there only a few minutes late. I was literally handing a gentleman my race form with one hand and putting the 'shoes on with the other. I had no idea if my qualifying information would go through or not. We finished the race respectably, and then we waited until Sunday night when the United States Snowshoe Association posted the "qualifying athletes" list on their website. Lo and behold, there was my name. Frankly, I was just overjoyed to be dubbed an "athlete." Even though it was a fluke, it was a redemption song for all the times I felt like my efforts were in vain.
The exact thing my mother predicted would happen did: I desperately wanted to go. But no rich benefactor came forward, and even a gambling junket didn't do the trick. Then we found out my mom was having surgery the day before the Nationals, so it was definitely out. Depression ensured, but I got through it thanks to the support of my friends. I got a t-shirt from the Nationals, which was very cool, and my friends even hugged a Revolutionary War monument for me (long story.) By that Sunday, mom was recuperating nicely, so I decided to do a new race in Neillsville by my little lonesome. Surprise! My first snowshoeing medal.
It was at the awards ceremony that I realized I had gained even something more. I was now part of the snowshoeing "family." I could tell that the regulars on the circuit were happy for me, as they knew I don't get many medals. I also found out that the 2015 Nationals will be in Eau Claire, home of my college alma mater. I know it's going to be much harder to qualify, but I am determined to make it there, and will at least do the Citizen's Race if all else fails.
The following weekend we had our last race in Cable. This is in the Lake Superior Snowbelt, making it serious snow country. People were asked to wear their biggest snowshoes, and the race was shortened slightly. This was the site of the 2011 Nationals, so it was tough going. At the banquet that night, I won the second highest award for doing 11 races. I received two handmade trivets and two coasters, all carved from the woodlot of the series founder. If I had done 12, I would have gotten two additional coasters, but I missed one race due to a funeral (and because I had such a hard time there last year!) But in the end, it didn't matter.
Of all the awards I have won, I am proudest of these. I believe that snowshoeing 3 miles is the effort equivalent of at least 6 on the road These hunks of wood stand for the ultimate in strength, stamina, and will, physically AND mentally. And for never giving up when you've stepped off the trail into snow up to your knees.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Sunday, January 19, 2014
An unlikely inspiration
For awhile now I've observed and asked other runners who is your running hero? For many of course, it's Steve Prefontaine for his guts and heart. Others have more specific heroes based on their own interests: vegan runners look up to ultra marathoner Scott Jurek, the run/walkers adore Jeff Galloway.
Mine would be Terry Fox, the young Canadian amputee who attempted to run across Canada in 1980 for cancer research. He made it two-thirds of the way before his cancer recurred and forced him to quit right outside of Thunder Bay (he died about 18 months later.) I have been to this spot, which is memorialized with a statue of him heading west towards home in Vancouver, and it's very moving. Since his death, his goal of raising twenty-two million dollars (one dollar for each Canadian) has been surpassed many times over in North America and around the world.
As you may remember in my last blog, while I enjoy getting medals, many a time I have run a race for a good cause and received nothing but a wristband and a smile, and I loved it. The charitable aspect is very important to me, and one of my goals is to do a fundraiser on a bigger scale, like walk the eighty-mile Mountain-Bay trail for a wildlife rehabilitation center or something. So I greatly admire this man for his courage and positive outlook through great personal adversity.
This also got me thinking: who are the heroes from other sports that actually got you moving in the first place? I have told the story of Gene Kelly inspiring me to get off the couch many times. (You bet dancers are athletes!) I have always had great respect for Hank Aaron, and was thrilled to get his Bobblehead at the Brewers Mini-Marathon last year.
But who, who represents you as an athlete? The underdog, the misfit, the one who may seem like a joke to some, but who is out there training and busting their butt like everyone else? Why of course! The Jamaican bobsled team.
Back in 1988, they were considered a joke. C'mon, a bobsled team from a country with no snow?!? But they had guts, and hung in there longer than was ever expected. In reality, it wasn't so unbelievable, because of the great Jamaican sprinting tradition (exactly what you need to push a bobsled.) Sadly, they had not qualified for the Winter Olympics since 2002, until yesterday. Their 47-year old driver has come out of retirement, and they are ready for the Games next month. However, they are sledding on a shoestring budget (sound familiar?) and will have work to do before they even get to Russia. You bet I will be cheering them on.
Other than being painfully slow, I know I have some assets that others admire. The biggest would be heart and endurance. Just yesterday a lady said "you got some good steam going up that hill." But the looks I get sometimes when I pass people late in a race (sometimes dirty!) or come thundering across the finish line can be fun to watch. I'm not what you expect. I'm proud of that, and I'm sure the bobsled boys are proud of themselves as well.
Mine would be Terry Fox, the young Canadian amputee who attempted to run across Canada in 1980 for cancer research. He made it two-thirds of the way before his cancer recurred and forced him to quit right outside of Thunder Bay (he died about 18 months later.) I have been to this spot, which is memorialized with a statue of him heading west towards home in Vancouver, and it's very moving. Since his death, his goal of raising twenty-two million dollars (one dollar for each Canadian) has been surpassed many times over in North America and around the world.
As you may remember in my last blog, while I enjoy getting medals, many a time I have run a race for a good cause and received nothing but a wristband and a smile, and I loved it. The charitable aspect is very important to me, and one of my goals is to do a fundraiser on a bigger scale, like walk the eighty-mile Mountain-Bay trail for a wildlife rehabilitation center or something. So I greatly admire this man for his courage and positive outlook through great personal adversity.
This also got me thinking: who are the heroes from other sports that actually got you moving in the first place? I have told the story of Gene Kelly inspiring me to get off the couch many times. (You bet dancers are athletes!) I have always had great respect for Hank Aaron, and was thrilled to get his Bobblehead at the Brewers Mini-Marathon last year.
But who, who represents you as an athlete? The underdog, the misfit, the one who may seem like a joke to some, but who is out there training and busting their butt like everyone else? Why of course! The Jamaican bobsled team.
Back in 1988, they were considered a joke. C'mon, a bobsled team from a country with no snow?!? But they had guts, and hung in there longer than was ever expected. In reality, it wasn't so unbelievable, because of the great Jamaican sprinting tradition (exactly what you need to push a bobsled.) Sadly, they had not qualified for the Winter Olympics since 2002, until yesterday. Their 47-year old driver has come out of retirement, and they are ready for the Games next month. However, they are sledding on a shoestring budget (sound familiar?) and will have work to do before they even get to Russia. You bet I will be cheering them on.
Other than being painfully slow, I know I have some assets that others admire. The biggest would be heart and endurance. Just yesterday a lady said "you got some good steam going up that hill." But the looks I get sometimes when I pass people late in a race (sometimes dirty!) or come thundering across the finish line can be fun to watch. I'm not what you expect. I'm proud of that, and I'm sure the bobsled boys are proud of themselves as well.
Monday, January 13, 2014
A mile in different shoes
My car and I have been together for 10 years now, for thousands and thousands of miles for concerts and road races. Alas, it is wearing out, on 143,000 miles now. So almost every time I go out of town I hear the "your car is going to break down" chorus from my dad. I know he certainly has a point, but he has always specialized in paranoia. So I try to keep my out-of-town journeys to places my family is a familiar with.
So when some friends from my Zumba class asked me if I wanted to go to two snowshoe races on separate days about 70 miles away, I jumped at the chance to go along. While I am very grateful to be included, it certainly showed me a little different insight into the minds of some runners.
The lady that organized the expedition is 64, has only been running about two years, and is just naturally talented. She places most of the time, even in races of 1500. It seems, however, that is her almost her sole focus and motivation. She gets antsy during long award ceremonies.The minute she has the medal in her hand, she's ready to go home, as in grab your bag right now. She doesn't do fun runs where there aren't age groups and no medal and glory. Don't get me wrong, me and my buddies like hardware too. But we also run for enjoyment, and our own satisfaction. As I've spent more time on the circuit, I've learned myself to slow down and relax and just socialize with other runners. I did not enjoy being hustled out right after the race and not getting to talk to my buddies. This is a very nice lady, and I realize she was Captain of the ship, but time with these friends is something I don't like to give up.
But a more serious contrast of philosophy turned up on this trip, one I admit that I'm rather sensitive about. We had done two hard races on back-to-back days, and the Captain said "I don't know if I want to do that again." Maybe I was boasting a bit, but I said I've done it many times, even doing as many as three in a day, so I was used to it. And she said "yes, but we RUN the races!" she emphasized. I know for fact that the other lady that with us is also a run/walker like myself, but she is just faster than me. She also seems to share my attitude of just having fun with it and doing your best: in fact we are planning on walking (gasp, don't tell the "Captain!") a full marathon together in June. But that implication that I am less of an athlete for not running the whole thing bothers me. I know it is quietly there with some runners, but I truly think those that doing it for the love understand. I have extremely fast friends, and turtle friends like myself. \Most know that I am giving my very best effort, whether both feet are on the ground or not.
And that is what I politely told her. I know she is new to the game, and doesn't realize that you can't always run every step, and is probably not familiar with the Galloway method or John "The Penguin" Bingham." She may not know that Bill Rodgers won Boston one year with a four minute walking break, and that in the ultra-marathon game only the very elite can run every step. And that doing 30 half-marathons in 3 years, even if some were strictly walking, is an accomplishment worth being proud of.
She just recently did a 5-miler and wants to run a 10K this year. I wish her nothing but the best of luck. But I do hope she learns to run not just for the hardware, understand that others are not as gifted and will someday try a half marathon, even if she does have to walk part of it.
So when some friends from my Zumba class asked me if I wanted to go to two snowshoe races on separate days about 70 miles away, I jumped at the chance to go along. While I am very grateful to be included, it certainly showed me a little different insight into the minds of some runners.
The lady that organized the expedition is 64, has only been running about two years, and is just naturally talented. She places most of the time, even in races of 1500. It seems, however, that is her almost her sole focus and motivation. She gets antsy during long award ceremonies.The minute she has the medal in her hand, she's ready to go home, as in grab your bag right now. She doesn't do fun runs where there aren't age groups and no medal and glory. Don't get me wrong, me and my buddies like hardware too. But we also run for enjoyment, and our own satisfaction. As I've spent more time on the circuit, I've learned myself to slow down and relax and just socialize with other runners. I did not enjoy being hustled out right after the race and not getting to talk to my buddies. This is a very nice lady, and I realize she was Captain of the ship, but time with these friends is something I don't like to give up.
But a more serious contrast of philosophy turned up on this trip, one I admit that I'm rather sensitive about. We had done two hard races on back-to-back days, and the Captain said "I don't know if I want to do that again." Maybe I was boasting a bit, but I said I've done it many times, even doing as many as three in a day, so I was used to it. And she said "yes, but we RUN the races!" she emphasized. I know for fact that the other lady that with us is also a run/walker like myself, but she is just faster than me. She also seems to share my attitude of just having fun with it and doing your best: in fact we are planning on walking (gasp, don't tell the "Captain!") a full marathon together in June. But that implication that I am less of an athlete for not running the whole thing bothers me. I know it is quietly there with some runners, but I truly think those that doing it for the love understand. I have extremely fast friends, and turtle friends like myself. \Most know that I am giving my very best effort, whether both feet are on the ground or not.
And that is what I politely told her. I know she is new to the game, and doesn't realize that you can't always run every step, and is probably not familiar with the Galloway method or John "The Penguin" Bingham." She may not know that Bill Rodgers won Boston one year with a four minute walking break, and that in the ultra-marathon game only the very elite can run every step. And that doing 30 half-marathons in 3 years, even if some were strictly walking, is an accomplishment worth being proud of.
She just recently did a 5-miler and wants to run a 10K this year. I wish her nothing but the best of luck. But I do hope she learns to run not just for the hardware, understand that others are not as gifted and will someday try a half marathon, even if she does have to walk part of it.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Running resolutions
A friend posted on Facebook last night that someone is going to leave a status today that says "new year, new me!" I told her you won't be getting that from me! While I would like to tweak a few things like getting my diet back on track, I am generally satisfied fitness-wise. I have never been one for resolutions on January 1. I believe if you feel the need to change something in your life, you do it whenever the time is right for you. In fact, Runner's World has proven that many runners actually start their regimens in March, which is just when I did, going on, (gasp!) five years now.
So many of my running friends know exactly what they want. As usual, I'm flopping around on the dock like a grouper. One wanted to run up mountains, so she spent the summer in Maine doing just that. Two others just signed up for a 50 mile ultra (to which I have the utmost respect!) Another is still going strong attempting to become a 50 stater; others have the Disney challenges in mind.
Oh, I'd know what I'd want if I had the resources. I'd be a 50 stater 50 times over, not to mention every Canadian province. Then I'd go race in funky places like Istanbul or Auckland. But for the budget runner, it's a bit tougher.
I have been finding out that rest really doesn't do much for me (though a few non-runners dispute that. They think I get too worn out and crabby.) Since October 27th, I've only done one half, four 5k's and two non-competitive snowshoe events. I also dropped out of a five miler due to the lingering affects of a cold combined with frigid conditions. Yes, that might be a year of racing for many fast people, but not for this chick. The thought of a starting line really does help keep me motivated to keep working out even when I don't feel like it during the week.
So what DO I want? I guess I will give it a try:
I would like to break 3 hours in a half marathon. You can all stop clutching your stomachs from laughter now, but for me it would be something. Mostly I'd like to get a little faster so that I don't have to worry about the SAG wagon. Time limits make me very nervous. Even though I was in no danger in Milwaukee, I think I pushed a little harder than I should have in that concrete jungle (to quote my brother-in-law) which is how I got injured. I didn't do the fall race in Madison due to a time limit, so I stood on the sidelines watching people I passed in May go by me. A friend said I must have looked like Aaron Rodgers standing on the sidelines after he broke his collarbone, thinking "give me the ball and let me play!"
Which leads me to Grandma's. I want to try to get into the Bjorkland half up in Duluth, which has a 3:03 time limit, although apparently it is not heavily enforced. Everyone knows how I love the Great Lakes, and you know that I am a firm believer in combining running with my other life interests.
Within a few years, I'd like to do a snowshoe 10k in a respectable amount of time to qualify for the National Championships. They always say if you want to go to the Olympics or become a national champion in something, find a niche sport like team handball to do it in. Apparently, the snowshoe championships aren't much bigger than a regular race, but it would really be something to me to compete and finish there. Improving fitness isn't the biggest obstacle though, it's my fear factor on downhills and in the heavy woods.
I want to finish my book, tentatively called "The Absolute Beginners Guide to Racing" and get it on the Kindle. Even though a plate of escargot is faster than me, I think I have enough experience and knowledge to help someone else out.
Then there's the big one. Even though no one has ever said it, I can sense the question in the back of some minds when I tell them I've done 30 half-marathons: so when are you going to do a REAL marathon? My mother is skeptical, my dad watched a woman who was out cold for 45 minutes at the finish line, so he is convinced that's me. But my runner friends are much more optimistic. In fact, they are using a little friendly peer pressure: if you do the Fox Cities Marathon we will do it too and be there waiting for you. How can I resist that?!? I will sign up, and I can always drop back to the half if needed.
So apparently I do have some goals in mind after all. But a ticket to the London Marathon wouldn't be turned down either...
So many of my running friends know exactly what they want. As usual, I'm flopping around on the dock like a grouper. One wanted to run up mountains, so she spent the summer in Maine doing just that. Two others just signed up for a 50 mile ultra (to which I have the utmost respect!) Another is still going strong attempting to become a 50 stater; others have the Disney challenges in mind.
Oh, I'd know what I'd want if I had the resources. I'd be a 50 stater 50 times over, not to mention every Canadian province. Then I'd go race in funky places like Istanbul or Auckland. But for the budget runner, it's a bit tougher.
I have been finding out that rest really doesn't do much for me (though a few non-runners dispute that. They think I get too worn out and crabby.) Since October 27th, I've only done one half, four 5k's and two non-competitive snowshoe events. I also dropped out of a five miler due to the lingering affects of a cold combined with frigid conditions. Yes, that might be a year of racing for many fast people, but not for this chick. The thought of a starting line really does help keep me motivated to keep working out even when I don't feel like it during the week.
So what DO I want? I guess I will give it a try:
I would like to break 3 hours in a half marathon. You can all stop clutching your stomachs from laughter now, but for me it would be something. Mostly I'd like to get a little faster so that I don't have to worry about the SAG wagon. Time limits make me very nervous. Even though I was in no danger in Milwaukee, I think I pushed a little harder than I should have in that concrete jungle (to quote my brother-in-law) which is how I got injured. I didn't do the fall race in Madison due to a time limit, so I stood on the sidelines watching people I passed in May go by me. A friend said I must have looked like Aaron Rodgers standing on the sidelines after he broke his collarbone, thinking "give me the ball and let me play!"
Which leads me to Grandma's. I want to try to get into the Bjorkland half up in Duluth, which has a 3:03 time limit, although apparently it is not heavily enforced. Everyone knows how I love the Great Lakes, and you know that I am a firm believer in combining running with my other life interests.
Within a few years, I'd like to do a snowshoe 10k in a respectable amount of time to qualify for the National Championships. They always say if you want to go to the Olympics or become a national champion in something, find a niche sport like team handball to do it in. Apparently, the snowshoe championships aren't much bigger than a regular race, but it would really be something to me to compete and finish there. Improving fitness isn't the biggest obstacle though, it's my fear factor on downhills and in the heavy woods.
I want to finish my book, tentatively called "The Absolute Beginners Guide to Racing" and get it on the Kindle. Even though a plate of escargot is faster than me, I think I have enough experience and knowledge to help someone else out.
Then there's the big one. Even though no one has ever said it, I can sense the question in the back of some minds when I tell them I've done 30 half-marathons: so when are you going to do a REAL marathon? My mother is skeptical, my dad watched a woman who was out cold for 45 minutes at the finish line, so he is convinced that's me. But my runner friends are much more optimistic. In fact, they are using a little friendly peer pressure: if you do the Fox Cities Marathon we will do it too and be there waiting for you. How can I resist that?!? I will sign up, and I can always drop back to the half if needed.
So apparently I do have some goals in mind after all. But a ticket to the London Marathon wouldn't be turned down either...
Monday, December 16, 2013
A strange year
I have "only" run four races now since the first of November. This is very strange for me, and my times have proven that I need to be out there every weekend. Also, my blood sugar doesn't care for it either. But in a way, the break is nice too.
Normally after the last race of the year I can give you my totals for the year, but frankly, I've lost track. It's been such a strange year, very bipolar: great joy and heartache, friends moving forward, and me meandering through the woods like a lost baby wolf, not sure where to go next.
Do I want to make the jump to the marathon next year, or am I content the way I'm going? Or do I need something new altogether?
Until I can come up with some concrete answers, here are a few highlights. The first kind of explains why I'm floundering, because even though I'm not sure what my goals are, I did achieve a highlight.
-Although it was a non-competitive walk for suicide awareness, I decided I was going to go for it and do my best. I started walking with a few volunteers, but they stopped to pet a German Shepard, so I kept moving on. Before I knew it, I was about a block ahead of them. Could it be I was in the lead? Soon I was behind a very tall gentleman, who takes one step to my three. I tried to keep pace with him and fell just short. Then I noticed he didn't take any water at the water stop, then just as I got to the corner of Marathon Park near where my mom grew up, he turned the other direction. He wasn't in the walk at all! I looked back and saw no one. When I made it back to the shelter for the second lap, the volunteers said "holy cow, you're moving there!" I knew unless I totally blew up I'd "win" the whole thing, and when I made it around again they said "here's our winner!" Someone asked, how does it feel to have everyone in back of you? I quoted Gene Kelly from "An American in Paris" and said "I don't know, it's never happened before!" For once, I had the pick of the snack table, and watched everyone ELSE come in.
So while it meant nothing to anyone but me, I finally "won" an event with over 200 walkers, something I've never even managed out of 15. It felt like the peak of the mountain: where do I go from here?
-Another highlight also happened in Marathon Park, where I PR'd in the half for the first time since 2011. What was cool is that my dad was tracking my progress through his amateur radio club. Someone said keep track of 133, and the guy at the halfway point said, what, is she in trouble? Nope, it's KB9ZOF's daughter. So when I got to Camp Phillips the "ham" said "your dad says hi" and I returned with, "tell him I'm doing just fine!" My parents have never been to a race of mine, so that was kind of cool.
-Running in Lake Michigan on New Year's Day was cold but very exhilarating.
-While I have run around Lambeau Field four times, baseball is my sport, so going around the warning track at Miller Park was a great joy. Saw so many different parts of the city as well, like Miller Brewing Company (where all the hops made me woozy!) Also, we each got a Bobblehead in our packets, and I got my hero, Hank Aaron.
-The Madison Half Marathon was the same way: getting to see things I don't see every day, and making peace with some old demons I've wrestled with since 1999.
-My favorite race though, was nothing fancy or exotic, only 35 miles down the road benefiting St. Bronislava in Plover. In fact, I had to walk it after being injured at Miller Park. But for a first year, they did everything right, had all the niceties that make racing special. Cheer groups and porta-johns every two miles! Popcorn at the packet pickup, more spuds than you can shake a stick at. I told the lady at the finish that this was one of the nicest events I've done, period, and she took me over to the race director who gave me a hug. Being appreciated for using your feet to help a charity is one of the nicest feelings, ever.
So that's why I'll be back on the trail next year!
Normally after the last race of the year I can give you my totals for the year, but frankly, I've lost track. It's been such a strange year, very bipolar: great joy and heartache, friends moving forward, and me meandering through the woods like a lost baby wolf, not sure where to go next.
Do I want to make the jump to the marathon next year, or am I content the way I'm going? Or do I need something new altogether?
Until I can come up with some concrete answers, here are a few highlights. The first kind of explains why I'm floundering, because even though I'm not sure what my goals are, I did achieve a highlight.
-Although it was a non-competitive walk for suicide awareness, I decided I was going to go for it and do my best. I started walking with a few volunteers, but they stopped to pet a German Shepard, so I kept moving on. Before I knew it, I was about a block ahead of them. Could it be I was in the lead? Soon I was behind a very tall gentleman, who takes one step to my three. I tried to keep pace with him and fell just short. Then I noticed he didn't take any water at the water stop, then just as I got to the corner of Marathon Park near where my mom grew up, he turned the other direction. He wasn't in the walk at all! I looked back and saw no one. When I made it back to the shelter for the second lap, the volunteers said "holy cow, you're moving there!" I knew unless I totally blew up I'd "win" the whole thing, and when I made it around again they said "here's our winner!" Someone asked, how does it feel to have everyone in back of you? I quoted Gene Kelly from "An American in Paris" and said "I don't know, it's never happened before!" For once, I had the pick of the snack table, and watched everyone ELSE come in.
So while it meant nothing to anyone but me, I finally "won" an event with over 200 walkers, something I've never even managed out of 15. It felt like the peak of the mountain: where do I go from here?
-Another highlight also happened in Marathon Park, where I PR'd in the half for the first time since 2011. What was cool is that my dad was tracking my progress through his amateur radio club. Someone said keep track of 133, and the guy at the halfway point said, what, is she in trouble? Nope, it's KB9ZOF's daughter. So when I got to Camp Phillips the "ham" said "your dad says hi" and I returned with, "tell him I'm doing just fine!" My parents have never been to a race of mine, so that was kind of cool.
-Running in Lake Michigan on New Year's Day was cold but very exhilarating.
-While I have run around Lambeau Field four times, baseball is my sport, so going around the warning track at Miller Park was a great joy. Saw so many different parts of the city as well, like Miller Brewing Company (where all the hops made me woozy!) Also, we each got a Bobblehead in our packets, and I got my hero, Hank Aaron.
-The Madison Half Marathon was the same way: getting to see things I don't see every day, and making peace with some old demons I've wrestled with since 1999.
-My favorite race though, was nothing fancy or exotic, only 35 miles down the road benefiting St. Bronislava in Plover. In fact, I had to walk it after being injured at Miller Park. But for a first year, they did everything right, had all the niceties that make racing special. Cheer groups and porta-johns every two miles! Popcorn at the packet pickup, more spuds than you can shake a stick at. I told the lady at the finish that this was one of the nicest events I've done, period, and she took me over to the race director who gave me a hug. Being appreciated for using your feet to help a charity is one of the nicest feelings, ever.
So that's why I'll be back on the trail next year!
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Virtual runs
Two years ago this November I tried something new at the time, a "virtual" run. I paid my money and got my bib and shirt in the mail like any other race, and then submitted my time afterwards. There were no medals for that first one, but I still thought it was pretty cool thing to do.
Now these runs are all over the place. There is a popular group on Facebook devoted just to listing the events, and people posting pictures of their finishes. But like anything, there are plus and minuses.
The biggest plus of virtual races for me is that travel expenses can be absolutely zero if you wish (of course, you can race them anywhere you'd like.) I have an elderly car that needs to be babied a bit. So it's great just to run right out the back door and get down to business. When you're in your home area, you know right where the bubblers are (drinking fountains, for those not from Wisconsin) and where potential rest/food stops are located. Also, I know I'll always come in first in my location, and that I don't have to worry about being last and having volunteers wait for me in a half-marathon.
I also like that I can do races for different causes and events that may not be available locally. Many of them are for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society, and I just did one in honor of my mother who is a two-year lymphoma survivor. I did one for an animal sanctuary in Illinois, and another to send disadvantaged youth to an aquarium, causes that I believe in. I am renowned for my love of Canada, and doing one race in Canada is at the top of my bucket list, but there are not too many Canada Day races in Wisconsin, lol. But I was able to do a virtual 10K for the maple leaf, and it's one of my favorite medals.
Speaking of medals, last but not least of the advantages of virtual racing is the bling. Some are extremely creative, like the Virtual Bacon Challenge medal, where you have to eat 3 pieces of bacon during the run. It features two pigs framed by bacon, with green stained-glass in the middle, adorable!
Another exceptional one was for that lymphoma run, called Christmas in July. It has a patriotic Christmas tree with an eagle instead of a star on top, and instead of visions of sugar plums, the children have visions of a cure dancing through their heads. I prefer these creative ones, as opposed to many that are related to Disney, Harry Potter, etc. I am currently working on earning my medals for the World of Hope series (which I didn't realize had Disney ties.) All the medals feature kids from all over the world, just my kind of thing.
To me, the biggest negative of virtual races is that it feels a little like cheating. Medals are something special, and having so many available for a price and the asking de-values them in my mind a little. I know someone that waited 11 years to get one (I lucked out and got one at my third race!) Many races let you split up mileage. I personally don't believe in that: the half-marathon is 13.1 miles done all at once. Lots of people can do it a mile or two at a time, not everyone can do it in one shot: that's why it's a challenge. However, I understand some people have health issues, and that for them, that is a big accomplishment. So I can't judge. But I prefer the races that hold you accountable, and at least make you submit a time, so it's not just a medal factory. I don't even look at the medal until I've earned it. Then of course, there's the competition and excitement of an actual starting line, but virtual runs can be relaxing.
Another con is that many don't offer shirts, though my favorite virtual series www.fortheloveofthekids.com does. After awhile though you just get too dang many shirts in the closet. In my climate, it's the long-sleeve Dri-Fit shirts you tend to hoard, as you can layer several of those for winter runs. But I'm pretty well stocked up now on those also. With the plain cotton shirts you get at most races, I tend to just wear a few select favorites, either because I had fond memories of the race, it fits just right, or it's a different color than most. So I can deal with the lack of shirts.
I think these races are a great idea for people that might be a little fearful to go to an actual race, or that would like to get their kids involved. I would highly recommend trying at least one for a cause you believe in to all my runner friends.
Now these runs are all over the place. There is a popular group on Facebook devoted just to listing the events, and people posting pictures of their finishes. But like anything, there are plus and minuses.
The biggest plus of virtual races for me is that travel expenses can be absolutely zero if you wish (of course, you can race them anywhere you'd like.) I have an elderly car that needs to be babied a bit. So it's great just to run right out the back door and get down to business. When you're in your home area, you know right where the bubblers are (drinking fountains, for those not from Wisconsin) and where potential rest/food stops are located. Also, I know I'll always come in first in my location, and that I don't have to worry about being last and having volunteers wait for me in a half-marathon.
I also like that I can do races for different causes and events that may not be available locally. Many of them are for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society, and I just did one in honor of my mother who is a two-year lymphoma survivor. I did one for an animal sanctuary in Illinois, and another to send disadvantaged youth to an aquarium, causes that I believe in. I am renowned for my love of Canada, and doing one race in Canada is at the top of my bucket list, but there are not too many Canada Day races in Wisconsin, lol. But I was able to do a virtual 10K for the maple leaf, and it's one of my favorite medals.
Speaking of medals, last but not least of the advantages of virtual racing is the bling. Some are extremely creative, like the Virtual Bacon Challenge medal, where you have to eat 3 pieces of bacon during the run. It features two pigs framed by bacon, with green stained-glass in the middle, adorable!
Another exceptional one was for that lymphoma run, called Christmas in July. It has a patriotic Christmas tree with an eagle instead of a star on top, and instead of visions of sugar plums, the children have visions of a cure dancing through their heads. I prefer these creative ones, as opposed to many that are related to Disney, Harry Potter, etc. I am currently working on earning my medals for the World of Hope series (which I didn't realize had Disney ties.) All the medals feature kids from all over the world, just my kind of thing.
To me, the biggest negative of virtual races is that it feels a little like cheating. Medals are something special, and having so many available for a price and the asking de-values them in my mind a little. I know someone that waited 11 years to get one (I lucked out and got one at my third race!) Many races let you split up mileage. I personally don't believe in that: the half-marathon is 13.1 miles done all at once. Lots of people can do it a mile or two at a time, not everyone can do it in one shot: that's why it's a challenge. However, I understand some people have health issues, and that for them, that is a big accomplishment. So I can't judge. But I prefer the races that hold you accountable, and at least make you submit a time, so it's not just a medal factory. I don't even look at the medal until I've earned it. Then of course, there's the competition and excitement of an actual starting line, but virtual runs can be relaxing.
Another con is that many don't offer shirts, though my favorite virtual series www.fortheloveofthekids.com does. After awhile though you just get too dang many shirts in the closet. In my climate, it's the long-sleeve Dri-Fit shirts you tend to hoard, as you can layer several of those for winter runs. But I'm pretty well stocked up now on those also. With the plain cotton shirts you get at most races, I tend to just wear a few select favorites, either because I had fond memories of the race, it fits just right, or it's a different color than most. So I can deal with the lack of shirts.
I think these races are a great idea for people that might be a little fearful to go to an actual race, or that would like to get their kids involved. I would highly recommend trying at least one for a cause you believe in to all my runner friends.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Loss
I've still been walking/running, doing my thing just like I have the last 4 years of my life. Although my times have been stagnant, I'm hanging in there, even placing in two small races this year. But let's face it, something is missing. In a previous blog I touched on how a friendship I valued very much was taken from me in a way I believe was unfair. Although I'm gradually getting better and moving on with my life, I still can use a little help in that department.
But yesterday, I received news of a loss that never has hope of renewal. He was not a runner (he would have rather been hunting, though he enjoyed hiking in the mountains), but was one of my friends through my love of music. We had met 12 years ago through the craziest of circumstances (my favorite singer did a concert in his backyard!) The story is still one almost too crazy to be true, and I will never forget that day. And I will never forget Jim.
Although we never lived in the same state, we did manage to get together several times in the years he lived in northwest Indiana, and took one very memorable road trip back to his hometown in western Maryland. When we were together (or communicating via phone or IM) you couldn't wipe that smile off my face. Most of the time. But he had this funny habit with all his friends apparently. He'd be your best friend for days at a time, call you, e-mail you every day for weeks then suddenly disappear off the planet. I always suspected he was fighting the demon of alcoholism and most likely was bipolar, and tragically he was found in his apartment after 6 weeks of hardly anyone hearing from him. He lingered in an Atlanta hospital for a few days before succumbing to alcoholism.
When we went to Maryland in 2003, I could still tip them back with the best of them, and one night I even outdrank him (I thought I was Earl Weaver, the former manager of the Baltimore Orioles.) Yet he held down good jobs, and seemed like he didn't have to drink every night, but when he went on one of these binges, look out. When I hugged him and left him in the driveway of his parent's house after that trip, I said "that's the last time I'll ever see Jim."
He moved to Atlanta 5 years ago and he invited me down, but I basically stood him up (I was very broke at the time.) I was still harboring a bit of grudge over $50 for cheese curds that went bad because he didn't tell me he was leaving for two weeks. My family thinks he asked for the curds to be mean and that he was using me, but I honestly think he didn't remember asking for them, as I think the disease was taking its toll even then. After we both got on Facebook, he asked me at least a dozen times to send more, and I blew him off every time. Now I wish I hadn't been so petty.
But aside from that, he was mostly very kind, supportive and generous. When I took up racing he said "I'm so proud of you" and when I got upset on Facebook one day he said "knowing you has always been a pleasure." I think he was very happy that I was (trying) to live a healthier lifestyle. I just wish he had made the same call in his life.
In 2002, we met for a concert in Marinette, Wisconsin, and he pulls this wooden shelf with tin-punch pineapples and wooden hanging pegs out of the bed of his Silverado and says "this is for you." Apparently it was gift he gave an ex that gave it back to him. While it seemed like a random gift at the time, it was very nice and I used it for many years for different things. When I started my medal collection in 2009, those pegs made perfect hangers. Eventually I put all my most treasured half-marathon medals on it. So I have decided that my next half-marathon (perhaps this weekend) will be dedicated to his memory (note: I did the Bear Cupboard Half Marathon in Minocqua one week after his death.) As I can't go to his memorial service (barring a miracle) it will be my own tribute to a dear friend.
I do get discouraged sometimes, when I can't lose weight, or my diabetes acts up. But I know I have to keep up the fight, for Jim, for others that died way too young from any number of demons. And for myself.
But yesterday, I received news of a loss that never has hope of renewal. He was not a runner (he would have rather been hunting, though he enjoyed hiking in the mountains), but was one of my friends through my love of music. We had met 12 years ago through the craziest of circumstances (my favorite singer did a concert in his backyard!) The story is still one almost too crazy to be true, and I will never forget that day. And I will never forget Jim.
Although we never lived in the same state, we did manage to get together several times in the years he lived in northwest Indiana, and took one very memorable road trip back to his hometown in western Maryland. When we were together (or communicating via phone or IM) you couldn't wipe that smile off my face. Most of the time. But he had this funny habit with all his friends apparently. He'd be your best friend for days at a time, call you, e-mail you every day for weeks then suddenly disappear off the planet. I always suspected he was fighting the demon of alcoholism and most likely was bipolar, and tragically he was found in his apartment after 6 weeks of hardly anyone hearing from him. He lingered in an Atlanta hospital for a few days before succumbing to alcoholism.
When we went to Maryland in 2003, I could still tip them back with the best of them, and one night I even outdrank him (I thought I was Earl Weaver, the former manager of the Baltimore Orioles.) Yet he held down good jobs, and seemed like he didn't have to drink every night, but when he went on one of these binges, look out. When I hugged him and left him in the driveway of his parent's house after that trip, I said "that's the last time I'll ever see Jim."
He moved to Atlanta 5 years ago and he invited me down, but I basically stood him up (I was very broke at the time.) I was still harboring a bit of grudge over $50 for cheese curds that went bad because he didn't tell me he was leaving for two weeks. My family thinks he asked for the curds to be mean and that he was using me, but I honestly think he didn't remember asking for them, as I think the disease was taking its toll even then. After we both got on Facebook, he asked me at least a dozen times to send more, and I blew him off every time. Now I wish I hadn't been so petty.
But aside from that, he was mostly very kind, supportive and generous. When I took up racing he said "I'm so proud of you" and when I got upset on Facebook one day he said "knowing you has always been a pleasure." I think he was very happy that I was (trying) to live a healthier lifestyle. I just wish he had made the same call in his life.
In 2002, we met for a concert in Marinette, Wisconsin, and he pulls this wooden shelf with tin-punch pineapples and wooden hanging pegs out of the bed of his Silverado and says "this is for you." Apparently it was gift he gave an ex that gave it back to him. While it seemed like a random gift at the time, it was very nice and I used it for many years for different things. When I started my medal collection in 2009, those pegs made perfect hangers. Eventually I put all my most treasured half-marathon medals on it. So I have decided that my next half-marathon (perhaps this weekend) will be dedicated to his memory (note: I did the Bear Cupboard Half Marathon in Minocqua one week after his death.) As I can't go to his memorial service (barring a miracle) it will be my own tribute to a dear friend.
I do get discouraged sometimes, when I can't lose weight, or my diabetes acts up. But I know I have to keep up the fight, for Jim, for others that died way too young from any number of demons. And for myself.
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