The not-so Perfect but good-enough 10 miler

Okay, I didn't have the training miles under my belt -- but I went ahead and did it. I ran the Perfect 10 miler on Sunday not far from my old neighborhood.

My first realization: I don't miss my old neck of the woods. Nope, not one bit.

The race was scheduled to start at 7:30 - and I made my way to the designated parking area at about 7:05. That wouldn't be so bad, except that the actual start of the race was a good distance away. So as I was getting my stuff together, I realized that I couldn't find my timing chip. I was sure it was packed in my workout bag, which had fallen on the car floor, spilling its entire contents. I tried to keep the swearing to a minimum, as I searched throughout the car, and gym bag, and under car seats, and along the sides of my car door.

Nope. Couldn't find it.

I was now about 20 minutes from race start. Hadn't stretched. Hadn't hit the bathroom (which in my case is as important, if not more than important than stretching, thanks to my tiny bladder).

So no timing chip. No official results. Darn. So you mean to tell me that I won't be able to claim my prize for fastest runner? That my course record won't count? Life really is unfair, dang it.

After taking care of all the necessary business, my chip-less feet lined up at the start with several hundred other show-boating runners. Girls with cute matching jog outfits, tiny run tops that barely cover more skin that a bikini top, and sunglasses that cost more than my monthly car payment. I laugh inwardly because my run outfit consists of a t-shirt my husband gave to me after returning from a college football weekend, shorts that prevent 'chub rub', and a jog bra that would sufficiently secure Fort Knox.

At the gun we were off. The speed demons quickly zipped by, and I settled into my comfortable lope. Which actually -- was not so sluggish (at least, not for me). I completed the first 3 miles at sub 10 minute pace, and felt pretty good at that! After that, I slowed down. Miles 4 to 6, were uphill -- not steep, but enough to squash my "lightning" pace! By mile 7 my body was telling me (in its throatiest Lauren Bacall voice), "you really ought to have thought twice about doing this".

I ran the last few miles with my TNT mentor Jan Frandsen, who is trying to get me to think about another marathon. (He's doing the Marine Corp. Marathon in October). One of my TNT coaches was there at the finish to offer congratulations.

So all in all, it was a good day. I got a medal for finishing the 10 miles. I'm eyeing a few half marathons this fall. And I guess I did a little better than expected.

Less drama. More boring please.

The great running/work-out routine I so proudly established 2 weeks ago, howsitgoing, you ask?

The wheels have come off.

Travel. Family illness. Worry. Lack of sleep. You name it. It's been a week since I laced up my Asics. I have a chance to get a run in tomorrow before Dana leaves for Geneseo. But that will be it until he gets back. And, in case you missed it...I signed up for the Perfect 10 miler on August 17th. I haven't come close to 10 miles in a long time. This cannot be good.

Oh, and to boost my already sagging spirits, Saturday, I could barely fit into a dress that I zipped up with ease last summer. Sigh!

I attended a work reunion last weekend. My very first tv station. I worked there as a young 20-something, into the beginning of my 30's. So great to see all those people. Even though I was squeezed tight, I felt pretty in my dress, and blushed at the numerous, "You look great" and "So great to see you"'s I got.

And then at dinner, it happened. The video rolled. A look back at the station in the 90's. And there I was. Ever so briefly. Moving in the newsroom, during some breaking news. Relaying details to co-workers.

I remember those days well. I've never thought I was particularly good-looking (but never thought I was ugly either). And I remember those years of thinking I was fat. Oh, how I wish I weighed now, what I weighed then. And my skin? So young.

Sigh. Damn you, hands of time.

See if you can spot me!

Picking up speed

I think I'm finally starting to see the benefits of my twice-weekly training sessions with Nick.

My pace has picked up on my weekly runs. In fact, I've dropped about 45 seconds off my average pace time. I know it also helps that I've rededicated myself to my cardio-workouts.

With things going well, I've signed up for The Perfect 10 Miler on August 17th. It should be a great training run for my half marathon.

I'm still averaging about 22 miles a week in runs. Not bad, but 25 would be better.

Off to NY this weekend, and I'll be bringing my running shoes with me.

Jerry

One of my marathon suppporters passed away a few weeks ago after a long illness. Jerry Pauley was my father's childhood friend. I was so honored when he and his wife Anita pledged me for the run. I remember his note, along with his donation. It read, "Better you than me". I laughed, as I knew he did, when he wrote it.

As wonderful as the donation was, Jerry's gift to our family was far greater. He came into our lives about 10 years ago. A call out of the blue. My mom thought he was a telemarketer, and hung up on him. But Jerry called back, determined to connect with "Charlie's" family. Jerry and my dad were childhood friends, and through part of college. They lost touch in subsequent years, as the miles separated them. Jerry did not learn of my father's death in Vietnam, until after the funeral. It was clearly something that bothered him.

So 30 years later, he became a part of our lives. He gave my sister, Mom and me priceless stories of what my dad was like as a boy, and as a friend. Family have filled in so much of the puzzle. Jerry supplied some of the missing pieces.

He and Anita visited us in Western New York, in 1997 - just a short time before I was to move 3-thousand miles away to California. They came to my wedding in 2000. It was such an honor, and made me feel -- even more -- how much my dad was a part of that day.

Jerry's gift to us can never be measured in value, or given justice in words. But it lives on with me, every day.

Saving Face

My last 2 runs (Friday & Sunday) were unremarkable, save one embarrassing detail. I'm apparently hell-bent on falling flat on my face.

Both times my lazy legs haven't cleared a slight rise in the sidewalk, and I've stumbled horribly, awkwardly, and not very discreetly in plain view of quite a few cars. Heck, if I witnessed a clumsy runner like me, I would be embarrassed for them.

But misery loves company. And so I bring you other women who are unbelieveably -- less coordinated than me.

Can they put handicapped railings on your car door?

My training miles haven't changed in more than a week, but that doesn't mean I've been watching Days of Our Lives and eating bon-bons.

I've been with Nick.

Nick? Nick who? Who is this Nick-person?

Relax. Nick is my trainer. He comes to WKYC to put my friend Barbara and I through our paces.

He knows my goal is to strengthen my core. Build muscle. Expend my running energy more efficiently - so I will have more endurance.

And oh yeah, Nick is helping me get rid of my armpit meat. (definition: armpit meat is the bulge that occurs on the wrong side of your bra strap)

Nick is good. Too good.

Last Thursday I had a solo session with Nick, during which I did lunges, and squats. Worked my glute and hamstrings. I did single leg step-ups on to a 30" high bench. It was so grueling that by the end I was begging to go to the mat and do ab work. Clearly, I was delirious.

I didn't realize that as tough as the session was, I was in for even more punishment 24 hours later. I woke on Friday hopped out of bed, only to drop to the floor. My muscles were tighter than a drum. It felt as though someone had performed surgery on me in my sleep, cutting my hamstrings and sewing them back together 2 inches shorter.

Sitting down, and standing up were agony. I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Baby steps were all I was capable of.

Ibuprofen did nothing. Icy/Hot was neither icy nor hot enough. Pain had come to visit, and was planning to stay a while.

Friday was agony. Saturday too. Sunday only mild improvement. By Monday I was finally feeling better. Tuesday - it was Nick time again!

My running shoes sit in the corner of my bedroom. I plan to reintroduce myself to them tomorrow. Helllooo Shoes!

Now, if only I can lace them up.

Hi, I just had sextuplets. Now I'm going to run a marathon.

Imagine my stunned silence as I watched the story of a mom who:

1) delivered sextuplets

2) went into cardiac arrest in the delivery room

3) survived

4) and went on to run a marathon before they turned one.

She ran the San Diego Rock n' Roll marathon just a few weeks ago.

I had to pick my jaw up off the floor after hearing her story.

- Read it here

She's cute, blonde, very cheery.

I wanted to dislike her and her amazing achievement. But how can you? What an amazing mom!

Oh, and it helps just a little bit -- that I beat her time by about 10 minutes.

Snap!

(oh yeah, like I'm going to be the only person I know in hell)