Six week update.

My last blog ended on rather a sour note in February, so thought it was time to show the positives since. I am up to 14 races/events for the year: 4 snowshoe races, 1 snowshoe fundraiser, and the rest in the new running shoes. I did go to the snowshoe race in Edgar, and while I came in last, I was still almost 25 minutes ahead of my time at that terrible Treehaven. I even planned on racing at our own 9 Mile, a place with nothing but bad luck for me during trail runs. Then I got a short but intense case of the flu: there was no way. I must be a fast recoverer though, since I did the 5 mile Point Bock Run the next weekend with a time only 53 seconds slower than last year. The next day I had to decide if I wanted to hit the snowshoes again. By that time I was too far behind on races to win the coveted Braveheart trophy, so I was ready to hang the new 'shoes up. But then I read about a fundraiser for a cross-country ski team out at 9 Mile, which used the same snowshoe loop as the race missed. I actually enjoyed it!

On the other end of the scale, Zumba class has been going pretty well. It did get a little rough at the start of the 2nd session, when we switched instructors from a gym teacher to a Zumba militant, lol. She's a bit younger, so naturally the classes have a bit more of a hip-hop feel, but there's less turning and more strength and toning moves. I did have to skip one week when I had the flu, but otherwise I've been there faithfully. While it may seem sissy, it is a great workout, especially in combination with snowshoeing, oddly enough.

But I was very happy to get back on the road somewhat, with a few fun events. I did a Virtual Bacon 5K run (actually did 5.25 miles) where you had to eat three pieces of bacon (will get my medal in the mail in about 6 weeks.) Didn't do the greatest at Bull Falls Brewery, but one goes to that one mostly for the extracurriculars, and to send out local veterans to Washington D.C. The next (very cold) morning in Kimberly I was only a minute slower while wearing a tight dress, wig, and cape! Sadly, Little Green Running Hood did not win the costume contest, but she was brave in the attempt. Meanwhile in Oregon, two of my friends were off winning medals at the National Snowshoe Championships. I determined next year I'll qualify myself and join...Nah...But I would like to get the series trophy for doing 9 snowshoe races.

Yesterday was certainly no big-time race, but it represents the reasons I run. I have been wondering lately, should I just give it up since I may not get a lot faster, or I'll never be able to afford "destination" races like Disney World. A personal trainer set up this race in honor of her mom, with all proceeds going to the Highground, a wonderful park in Neillsville, Wisconsin, full of memorials for veterans. It was very no-frills, no shirt, but that was fine with me. While the course crossed a U.S. highway (there was nowhere else for it to go) and had some dandy hills, they really appreciated us being there. One gentleman came and paced me in the last 10th of a mile, and whenever a runner crossed the finish line they rang the bell that use for observances at the park. A man from the Highground shook my hand and thanked me for coming. And surprise, we all got a small medal. Very classy, and confirmation that I'm doing the right thing.

Snowshoe, noshoe...An embarrassing outing

On my last blog, I told of the good time I was having. Yesterday, not so much, to say the least. For only the second time in 150+ races and 3 1/2 years, I wanted to hang out the snowshoes AND the running shoes.

I am not huge on goals, but my first and foremost priorities in any race are to get my butt home in one piece, and to represent myself and my home area the best I know how, without embarrassing myself. While I did barely manage the first, I don't believe I accomplished the second. I can't say I wasn't warned. My friend Brad e-mailed me and said hard course, be careful. I knew he was concerned.

My first snowshoe race was on a very hard-packed trail, the second had a little more snow, but this one was quite a bit rougher, with very soft snow (everyone was having issues) and with my least favorite thing, tree roots! During my first race in Rib Lake, I was on 25 inch snowshoes, but felt out of control, like I was stepping on them all the time. So when I bought some of Friday I bought the shorter model, which would have been great for those other races, but really sunk in there in Tomahawk. I was also using poles for the first time, and while they can be in the way when you don't need them, they are a godsend when you do, especially going downhill.

It seemed like nearly every step was a chore. One of the things I don't like about trail runs is that you have to be on your toes all the time, vigilant about obstacles. Sure, accidents can happen on the road, especially in bad weather, but most of the time you don't have to constantly worry about injury. I just kept plugging along, but I never even saw another person until nearly 2 miles in. I did pass them without trouble, but then I hit that single-track again (ie the tricky stuff!) and couldn't make up as much time as I would have liked. I didn't even set my watch, I didn't want to know I guess. But then one of the finished racers came down the trail (I think he was seeing how many people were left) and I asked, how much farther? About one minute, right around the corner. Up ahead I could see Brad, Michelle, and Marcia (a lady I usually pass around halfway) all looking worried wondering where the hell I was. Poor, sick Fay (who I rode with) was sitting in the car waiting so I could get my gear out. I  yelled out "I'm coming!" and they seemed relieved.

I didn't even get the guts to see my time until last night, I was like 50 minutes in back of Fay who was third place in my age group. A disgrace. Most of the 10k'ers finished ahead of me. A disgrace. I didn't have any business being out there. I told the race official I had just set the course record, for slowest time ever. Then he reminded me of the two ladies I passed. So while I didn't even come in last, it wasn't good. I felt so bad that everyone had to wait. Eventually I got some chili and beer in me and was welcomed into the group with open arms. I don't think they worried so much about injury (the first responders reported no problems), as much as the possibility I got lost.

I started wondering if my fitness level was going to hell. After all my 5K times have been at least 4 minutes off of summer, when I'm really consistent. Then I started thinking of conditions: running in Lake Michigan, below zero windchills, and up big snow bunkers. I also had to remember I owned these snowshoes for about 18 hours. A classic case of being too hard on myself.

After considering giving up all fitness activities for stamp collecting, knitting, or astronomy, I decided I would miss it all too much, especially the friends I've made. I compared their behavior with some "friends" I've had in the past, who would be all embarrassed by this, and leave me to my own devices. That means an awful lot.

So this morning I signed up for a race in Edgar, where I've done trail runs on a similar course.  I'm just taking it one at a time. I can't give up snowshoeing now (especially after dropping a chunk of change!) But I will be giddy to be back on the road again.

Not breaking any records, but having a ball

It's 5 weeks in to 2013, and I already have 5 races in, including some of the most unique I've done. I started the year off with a dash through a little puddle called Lake Michigan. While I was a wee bit bashful compared to some people (I say it's because I know what those Great Lakes tides can do) I did indeed do the 75 yards around the tiki torches into the drink.

I am proud of the many races I've done for charity, but I must say this is the first one I've ever done for a dead gorilla. The Sampson Stomp at the Milwaukee Zoo was a cold one at 10 degrees with like a 20 below windchill, but along the way we were greeted by penguins, elk, llamas, and even a camel (hey, it gets a wee bit nippy in north Africa at night.) For a kid growing up in northern Wisconsin in the 70's, THE trip was to go south to the big city and see the flamboyant Sampson, who pounded on the glass, and liked to throw things. This race has been going on 32 years, with proceeds benefitting the big guy's descendents. Afterwards we toured the zoo (just the thing to do on the coldest day of the year!)

Then another strictly-for-me proposition, the Winter Warrior 5K in southern Brown County. All the money went to the WI Desert Veterans, and it's done in the cold and snow to remind us of the harsh conditions soldiers face everyday. The first half was a run on a snowy golf course (golf courses can be a bitch to run on, that's why many cross-country meets are held there.) Then we hit the bunkers, hill, moguls, whatever you want to call them, 5 in a row. I tend to slow down going downhill (more on that in a minute) but then you lose momentum. Once you got the hang of them, they were pretty fun. They told us at the start just to have fun and stay safe, which was rather liberating, not to have to go all out or worrying about finishing last (I did just fine). At the end we got a dogtag that said "I survived the Winter Warrior 5K. Be a hero, run below zero!" It's in my favorite medal collection.

During this "off-season" I also joined a Zumba class one night a week for 5 weeks, which I can make 10 weeks for another 20 bucks. The first class was interesting, as I had the old "fat girl thinks everyone is watching and laughing at her" syndrome, but it wasn't that way at all. Everybody is busy keeping themselves in line. While I have no problems with the fitness part, I sometimes turn counter- clockwise when everyone is going clockwise. I say it's because my instructor is Australian, and everyone knows tornados and toliets spin the other direction down there! Still, it's fun to shake your booty to some Pitbull, and while I don't want to make a steady diet of it, it's a nice change of pace.

Then there is something I don't enjoy so much: snowshoeing. While some runners with deeper pockets can think Birkenbeiner, the rest have to go with a sport requiring less equipment. It is not for the faint of heart. You can't pull yourself along like on skis, and if your legs naturally turn out like mine, you can easily step on your shoes and lose your balance. However, this turnout is great if you're a ballet dancer (as you can move quickly in any direction.) Most importantly, I have to pick my feet up higher with each step, which can take almost twice the energy of running. So basically doing a 5K on snowshoes is like a 10K on the road. While there are metal cleats on the bottom of your shoes to stop you from careening downhill, I'm still a bit of a wuss and sidestep down the bigger ones.

I made several mistakes the first race, the first being showing up in Rib Lake! Rib Lake is on the Ice Age Trail, right where the last glacier ended a zillion years ago. It left behind some real dandies of those bumpy things. Next, I had on 25 inch snowshoes, which I believe were too big for my short stride. I practically had to jump between steps. Lastly, I didn't have them laced up tightly enough at first. But I'm getting better at that. Still I managed to (barely) stay upright that first race, practically falling at the finish line. After much swearing and declaring I was never doing this again, I had to admit I liked the crazy people that did this sport. But I was not, repeat not, buying snowshoes. Two weeks later I started pricing some when we still didn't have a lot of snow, and could've gotten a pair for half price. I spent my dough and went to run for the vets instead. Then I firmly stated I was only going to the Athens Udder Plunge race to cheer on my buddies, no racing. A few minutes later I had the last pair of loaners in my hand from the same gentleman from Rib Lake. I wanted to do this particular one because all the money went to support the Athens Fair, which is a free fair, and quite a spectacle for a small town. They were quite a bit smaller, and this course was quite flat, so once again I survived it, though the air did turn quite blue with my swearing again. It was the same result. I was 4th from last, with a nice lady from Rhinelander about 10 minutes in back of me, followed by two kids.

This morning I signed up for the Braveheart series, and while I won't earn the coveted hand-carved trophy for completing 10 races, I might just do one or two more, and I will be able to go to the end of the year bash in Cable if I wish in March. I'll either rent 'em or hope for an end-of-year sale for the rest of the seaon. If I do buy, I will get some poles, which should help me feel a little more secure.

But I sure look forward to the rubber meeting the road again!

Running into 2013

What would New Year's Eve be without ye tired old tradition of recapping 2012? First of all, we didn't blow up on December 21st, so we can take it from there.

Something though happened this year. Yes, I focused more on half marathons, switched to 5K's during the summer for heat purposes, then went back to halfs (pulling 3 within a month!) But this year wasn't so much about physical growth as emotional. While I still love to pick out a random race just for my own enjoyment, I found that this misfit could be part of a loose-knit runners group. And like it! I also discovered that there are times it's better to have a friend along, like the Cellcom.

The first goofy random one was an Oshkosh/New London St. Patrick's double fiasco that I didn't quite pull off (thanks to disregarding traffic from a parade of 25,000!) Things went better in St. Paul, MN April 8th, after a rocky start on the morning after my friend's wedding reception. When I found out he was tying the knot again, the first thing I did was check active.com for a race the next day. Despite the previous chaos (too much beer, appetizers, and emotion) the run itself around Lake Phaelen was very peaceful. Although it was right in the city, it was an beautiful oasis. I also showed I could kick ass on hills!

I'm also very glad I did the Runway Run at the EAA in Oshkosh. In a way it was a salute to my dad. We ran right under the control tower, and I made a point to salute the boys up there. We ran under the wing of a C5, and I PR'd to boot (by 6 seconds I believe.) I have a feeling if I go back next year I will have company.

My favorite "random" solo race had to be in Adams. Although temporarily taken aback by a detour, I got there in plenty of time. For 17 bucks I got two t-shirts, two medals, and a pancake breakfast! If that wasn't enough, I got the bonus of a ride on a 1938 fire engine. I asked another runner to take a picture of me, and it turned out so nice I had copies made.

But then it was back to the gang. Not long after I got home from Adams we went to Eagle River for a midnight run, followed by Run Your Bass Off in the U.P. the next morning. Understandbly my time sucked on that one, but it was a helluva a good time. The next week I ran in only a sports bra on a very steamy night in Point, Nobody passed out, nobody cared.

I noticed something else that night, looking at our group picture later. From the knees down, my calves looked just as strong and nice as anyone else's. I was always self-conscious of my body and supposed lack of fitness (which is really kind of bullshit) but thanks to these friends of mine, I'm starting to get over it. As I've been this way 43 years, I don't expect a full recovery anytime soon, but I'll take it.

When I went back to 5k's in summer, I started training more for speed and it showed. I PR'd in the 5k, mile, 2 and 5 miles (did especially well in that last one.) The only thing I didn't PR in was the half and all I have are excuses as to why I didn't. Bad ankle in Eagle River, adjusting to diabetes medicine at Fox Cities, sleet in Wautoma, heat in Titletown (not even going there!) But still, 13 halfs is nothing to sneeze at! Who would've thought the mouse potato would ever say that doing a half in Wisconsin Dells would make it one of her nicest birthdays ever? Not this chick.

Speaking of chicks, one of the more unusual races I've ever done was the all-women Chick-amegon in Ashland. Despite horrible weather, it was a roadtrip to remember, complete with feathered boas, artisan wells, and Barry Manilow. There's still more tales to tell, like the half in Norwalk where I was nearly taken out not by physical defect, but claustrophobia! Then there was the half in my hometown where I was totally kicking butt until I got to a hill that my sister doesn't even like to drive up. I learned a lot about pacing that day (and the evils of eating too many wings and drinking too much 75 cent Old Style after a race.)

So many memories, and lessons learned. Here's to 2013.

Fox Cities marathon

I've been reading several blogs from the Fox Cities Marathon, but I just can't seem to get mine going because it was a very drama-less race for me. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I was 4 minutes off last year's PR of 3:07, and really have no good reason for that. Sure I could blame the Forerunner for going into Personal Trainer mode so I didn't know what my pace was. And I could sing the blues about that damn Glipizide diabeties medicine I was put on the week before the race.

But that wouldn't be fair to either the Garmin corporation or the pharmaceutical industry. Simply put, sometimes under near-perfect conditions I suffer from a lack of mental focus. Like a race horse without blinders I start looking around, and forget why I'm there: to get the best time I possibly can. But then again, what's really so bad about that?

So I will focus on the 5K, which went very well, despite a few glitches. Just as they were making an announcement thanking so-and-so for the PA system, it cut out completely, along with the timing system and the giant Finish arch deflating. Somehow they lost all their power, and I saw several people trying to get it all back up with one extension cord. Finally they dropped the megaphones and got back on real power. By that time though, the starting area got pretty chaotic. I ended up further back than I should have been, right amongst the dog walkers and strollers. So there was lots of weaving at the start. Finally I got some clean air and started loosening up a bit. I was rather amused by the 75 volunteers wearing the same shirt so I uttered "looks like a whole church." "It is!" said the enthusiastic water lady.

I was feeling pretty good by the time we hit the trail, so I knew I could kick it in at the end. Unfortunately, not being able to see the finish line without the arch I started the kick too early, and missed my PR by 15 seconds at 39:22 (though I'm sure my weaving at the start didn't help matters there.) Still, the shoe-shaped medal was worth the price of admission. I was 61 out of 110 in my five-year age group.

As for the rest of Saturday, I took a bus tour of the full-marathon course. I thought that the windwill in Little Chute was only symbolic, but nope, it was 100 feet tall! I started to feel sort of woozy on the ride, so I needed food, soon. Thankfully I had some pretzels to hold me over, but then I tried to go to Noodles and Company and it looked like a riot. I attempted to drive somewhere else in the Fox River Mall area (impossible on a Saturday) and my car made me wait 10 minutes. So I ended up walking to this place called Serious Burger. Indeed it was, in taste and price! I had the Farmhouse Burger: Nueske's Bacon, sunny-side up egg, garlic mayo, and onion rings, 12 bucks! Still, any port in a storm.

Finally the car settled down and I got to Half-Price Books where I found a Sinatra set that turned out to have 7 songs I didn't have for $2! A treasure. Eventually I got to my motel, and made plans to meet Michelle for dinner a few doors down. Damn wifi wasn't working at motel, the only thing that marred the visit. Medium pizza cost only 2 bucks more than my bleeping burger. Took my picture by the tank at the American Legion. A nice time was had by all.

Running statistics, Patty style

Runners are obsessed with statistics: split times, negative split times, mileage, and pace. Looking at my physique, I’m sure a lot of people think the only “pace” I’m interested in is the picante sauce. Though it is one of nature’s most perfect foods, I am indeed concerned about the other one, and I crunch the numbers like everyone else.  While I used to keep a more detailed training log, these days I leave it up to my second Garmin to do that for me.

Instead, I log more fun stats. I finally sat down and totaled my number of races since 2009. To the best of my knowledge, I’m at 155 right now, including 13 half-marathons. Due to the fact that I have worry-wart, elderly parents, I try to confine my racing to counties that border my own (it doesn’t hurt that I live in the biggest county in Wisconsin!) While one of my friends doesn’t believe me, I can show him that yes indeed, most are within that radius. Out of 44 races so far this year, only 11 have been “outside the lines,” and most of those were within 2 hours of home.

I also keep track of the charities that I run for. Granted, some races are for profit, but I still enjoy the ones that are going to a good cause.  This past weekend, I ran to help the tuition assistance fund at a local Lutheran high school, and also did Lacey’s Run, which gives scholarships to people without insurance fighting cancer. This year I did a “virtual” run for Paul Newman’s camps for kids with cancer, ran to help preserve part of the Ice Age Trail, and hoofed it for high school sports teams, and fire departments.  Sometimes I wonder if I do too many races, but I really do enjoy that aspect of it, and it’s time and money I’m not spending in a thrift store (though I still partake in moderation.)

While hearing the words “Boston” and “New York” make  runners’ hearts beat a little faster, I am a small town woman, and my race roster reflects this. Of all the towns I’ve ever raced in, only 14 of them have a population over 12,000. The two smallest, Navarino and Mt. Morris are unincorporated. The next on the list is Eland at 251, an old railroad town where the postmistress once took my water bottle home to fill from her own well (and brought me back a cookie too!) Next is tiny White Lake at 329 souls, then Withee to the west at 508. On the other end of the scale, the largest is nowhere near NYC in population: St. Paul, Minnesota at 288,488. Maybe someday I will cross the start line in a big metropolis, but for right now, the eastern Twin City will have to do.

Maybe these are not the most competitive statistics you’ve ever seen, but they’re one of the big reasons I run.

Why I named my blog what I did

I decided to name my blog "Still Running Against the Wind" for several reasons. First of all, I love Bob Seger and his music, and the fact that he's a Midwestern boy done good. Years later the song was prominently used on the Forrest Gump soundtrack. I can relate to the Tom Hanks character very well.

One day, Forrest just started running across America, then went back and did it again. And again. He really had no goal in mind. Aside from getting fit, and wanting to use my feet to help others, that was me three years ago. And I still don't really have a big goal or uniqueness! 

Runners are very goal-oriented people in general. For the fast ones, it's getting an elusive BQ (a time good enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon.) Many people want to join the "50 marathons in 50 states" club. I know one gentleman that wants to do every marathon in the state of Wisconsin. My good friend Michelle is trying to do a race in every county of our state. I've seen people running and juggling at the same time, and I read about an excellent runner that became the world's fastest Elvis. While I have run several races as my superhero alter-ego "The Blue Blazer" she's not a part of my permanent ensemble.

I do try to do races for causes that may not be earthshaking, but are important to the people involved, like equiping fire engines, and playground equipment for domestic abuse shelters. I also enjoy very small town races: most practically give you the key to the city in your goodie bag! But neither of those are terribly organized goals either. So I am very open to suggestions.

More importantly, I called it "Still Running Against the Wind" because it also applies to my life. I have always been my own person, and have not always done things the conventional way. Marriage and the baby carriage just hasn't happened for me. I have many different interests, and friends from all walks of life. I certainly don't look like a runner either: I tend to surprise people when I come barrelling across the finish line. I've never had a trainer or training partner, and have basically learned by watching people who do know what they're doing. Sure, there's always a few militants that get irritated when they have to wait for their medals until I cross the finish line. But most runners are very supportive, and that's why I fell in love with the sport. As I'm already 42, I'm not sure how long I can keep going, but I will keep going against the wind as long as I can.