Runner at Large

My whole life, I have viewed runners with a sense of awe. Now I am one of those, and I am extremely proud to be considered a runner.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

What I get for having "Blog-Friends"

Marcus has provided me with a challenge. I need to join in on the "six word memoir" game. He calls it fun and challenging. I had agreed with challenging, until I came up with my memoir and now I think it is fun, as well.

This was new to me, so here are the rules to this game:
1) Write your own six word memoir
2) Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you want
3) Link to the person that tagged you in your post, and to the original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere
4) Tag at least five more blogs with links
5) Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

Six words seems like alot...until you try to come up with one. What is my memoir? What do I want people to most remember me by, in six words? I'm a great wife. That's four. I'm an awesome friend. Again, that's four. I rock the world. Four...

Then it hit me. Because it's a running blog, and that's what you all know me as (and quite frankly, probably don't care how good of a wife I am to Ted or how awesome a friend I am to Cassie, or what the world really thinks of the way I rock), then my memoir should be about running. So here it goes:

Philadelphia Marathon. Need I Say More?

Does that count? Too bad.

Okay, so because I play by the rules, here are my five bloggers that are now required to participate, all because you left comments at one time on my blog and welcomed me into your world. :-) 1. Charlie 2. Ron 3. Blyfinn 4. Lifestudent 5. Reba

(P.S. I think I may be participating in one of the first-ever blog chain letters, but I promise you, if you chose not to participate, you won't have bad luck for 5 years, your true love may still call you tonight, a wish may still come true, and something good may still happen to you in the next 5 minutes)

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Cold? What cold?

My mother has recently moved to the Philly area, and is tutoring at a learning center. She always has endearing stories from the kids she works with, but the one she told us the other night was classic. And it was one that we all can relate to...mainly because we've been on both sides of this story before!

In the middle of the session, she reports this young kid looks up at her and starts on the following conversation:

Kid: Do white people feel the cold?
Mom: Why do you ask that?
K: Well, my mom and I were driving on a cold day and we saw a white person running and he was wearing shorts. I asked my mom and she said white people don't feel the cold.
M: I feel the cold. Members of my family feel the cold. I don't think skin color matters--we all get cold and we all get hot.

She went on to explain that when you run, you tend to feel warmer, so maybe the runner was sweating and feeling warmer than he would have had he not been running.

This reminded me of a "Boondocks" comic a few years ago, where the two boys are huddled together at the bus stop wearing parkas and hats and scarfs, and a man is running by in shorts and a tank top. The one boy looks at the other and says "White people."

I know there have been times when I've seen someone running a race or just a training run in flurries or windy conditions or just down-right inhumane cold, and they are wearing very little. One race I do actually gives out an award for the runner that is least dressed! And it has crossed my mind on if they feel the cold and realize just how miserable it is to be outside in pants and sleeves, let alone shorts! On the other hand, I have also been that runner...running in poor conditions wearing not as much as I should be, and thought other drivers were probably laughing, while I felt absolutely fine, maybe even a bit over-heated.

My response? I would just show one picture of the winners of most marathons and the clothes they are wearing, regardless of the weather.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Is this for real?

Over the past few months, I have thought and rethought my decision to run at least a mile a day for various reasons. At the beginning of the year, I thought it may possibly be a bad idea because I wondered how much rest I was providing my body. Then I began to think it would be a good idea, and I would try to beat my mile time and try to become a faster runner. Then I again began to second guess the decision, as my mile time increased, but my distance times decreased and became harder.

But I guess persistence pays off...or something like that. Ted and I ran a 4-mile race this weekend. It was a smaller race, with my age group consisting of about 10 other runners. It was a hilly course, and quiet. The race ended coming up a long hill, with the finish immediately at the top. Ted finished ahead of me, and was cheering me on.

The time was 36 minutes.

36 minutes!? For 4 miles? Are you kidding me? That's exactly what I asked Ted as I ran by. Actually, I think it was something more along the lines of "This clock is so off".

The time got my fourth in my age group and a PR that shattered my other times. The time was amazing--I normally would have done it in 41 minutes, give or take. (Especially since our pre-race dinner consisted of nachos, hot dogs, and soft pretzels at the Phantoms hockey game Friday night).

So now I am crediting my A-Mile-A-Day philosophy, and running the mile with a renewed energy. My mile last night clocked in at 6:55/mile. Granted, it's a pace that I couldn't keep up past the mile point, but I'm doing it and I couldn't be more pleased.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Star Sightings

Marcus wasn't the only star I saw during my recent gallop in New York...

Tuesday morning I got up and routed out my run for the day. It was a beautiful morning, cool but not frigid, and sunny. I decided to end up around Rockefeller Center. A few years ago, while in New York, I packed up our corporate logo signs and froze my fanny out for a few seconds on CBS's Early Show, providing some free press and a chance to get my smiling mug on TV.

I wasn't quite so enthusiastic this year, but was curious to see what NBC was like, compared to the Early Show. I was expecting a much larger crowd, and was thrilled to realize I could stand at the window of the studio and watch Matt Lauer interviewing someone about the economy. The interview didn't interest me nearly as much as Meredith Vierra standing off to the side, and I decided to stick around a bit longer when I realized they were ready for an outside shoot.

Within minutes, all four anchors were in the Plaza, with two other people I didn't recognize at first...then they introduced them.

I LOVE Biggest Loser. I find that show to be very motivating, and would love five minutes with Bob the Trainer. If I actually wanted to get some crunches in, I'd pick Jillian.
Therefore I was thrilled when I realized the mystery people were Jillian Michaels and Bernie, the latest non-Biggest Loser.

I should mention here that when standing at the plaza in the crowd, there are two sets of barricades. One set surrounds the open area where Al and Matt and the others stand, the other set surrounds the first set. I was standing by the second set, as I was just running past, and when I realized it was Bernie and Jillian, I began to climb and straddle and do everything short of jumping over the barricade to get a better look. The entrance was clear on the other end of the Plaza, and I didn't want to lose the shot of seeing them to walk around.

A security guard finally came over and asked if I wanted to go inside. I said I didn't want to walk the whole way around and I was fine. "Ma'am, the entrance is only over there." (My excitement at seeing famous people wasn't going to hindered by the fact that for some reason I was a "Ma'am" and not a "Miss", but minor flaw on her part). No, really, I assured her. I'm fine.

"Well, we don't like you standing here."

Okay, so I decided to walk around and go inside, where I obviously was supposed to be. I hurried over, seeing that the interview was now over and while the four anchors high-tailed it back into the studio, Jillian and Bernie were taking pictures and signing autographs and meeting with people. I was wearing my Philadelphia Marathon shirt, and was certain that I would be a prime person for Jillian to talk to. After all, we share the same interests. Granted, she's more into the blood-type of training than I am, but we both understand the final result and the work it requires.

Alas, my marathon shirt must have been a poor choice, as I'm sure it intimidated the poor girl. She chose not to come talk to me, and instead walked inside with Bernie.

The surprise? Jillian Michaels wears 6-inch heels.

The truth? She still could probably kick my ass.

Monday, March 10, 2008

The Torturous Mile

Ted and I follow the old saying "Early to bed, early to rise" quite literally. We are normally in bed by between 9:00 and 10:00 most evenings--weekends we may try to live it up a bit and push it closer to 11:00. We like to be awake during the week by 6:00, weekends closer between 8:00 and 9:00. In fact, if I sleep in much later, I tend to be angry, feeling like I lost part of the day to a useless task.

So, with that in mind, here I sit, 10:30 at night, in New York City, in a cushy little hotel room where, if I lean back against my pillows right now, I can look out my window and see the JVC Globe in Times Square and the lights of the HUGE LCD screen (no, building). Most normal people my age would be out and about, with a free ticket to buy drinks for their friends at the trade show, all on the company's dollar.

I passed up dinner at an Italian restaurant to come back to my room and indulge in room service, followed by my obligatory mile run. My first free moment of the day came at 10:00 this evening, and a mile run outside was not what I had in mind. I bit the bullet and did the treadmill. And realized, yet again, how much I hate the treadmill. Two minutes in and I'm swearing I'm finished, not sure how this 10:30 min/mile I'm groaning out can possibly be harder than the 8:00 min/miles I've been yanking from somewhere when I'm outside.

So tomorrow morning will find me up and out on the streets of New York. I love running in the city. I love the feeling that I'm exploring, I love the puzzle of figuring out where I am going and getting back, and I love the portrayal I have of a native (most times on these runs I am stopped at least once and asked for directions...and three-quarters of those times I can actually answer them!).

The sad thing is the traveling is part of my job I like the least. I am tired of dragging booths and signs around, lugging suitcases and bags of laptops, wires, cell phones, and who knows what else on trains, and having to argue my case with new supervisors who don't understand the business, don't trust me to do my job, or both. I have dreaded this trip for awhile, and I'm thanking my lucky stars it's only a two-day trip and I can go home tomorrow.

Back to my normal routine if early bedtime, early alarm, supper at 6:00, and routine television shows. If variety is the spice of life, then you could say that I like my life dull and bland. But I like it, and that's really all that matters.