The Finish Line

Again!

It wasn't easier.  But I trained less this year.  And I gave myself permission before the race to walk if I needed to.  But I guess I never really needed to, because I never stopped to walk.

It was different this time.  I wasn't doing something for the first time.  I wasn't at the brim of tears for achieving something I worked so hard at.  It wasn't as emotional.  I didn't have as much riding on it.  I was just doing something that I now do each year and am really proud of myself for doing.

I shaved a couple of minutes off of my time from last year, but I am not really concerned with time.  When I am running the 5K, I only care about finishing.  (Said like a true slow runner.) 

And, as always, there is no better feeling than the one that you feel when you see Mile Marker 3.  Because that means there is only .1 left.  And that .1 is the easiest running you'll ever do.  It's the type of running that you can do while holding your daughter's hand and smiling.  It's feel-good running, and I wish I could capture that feeling and bottle it and use it in other aspects of my life.

This year has been different than the past few.  I can't say it's been great, but it's been better.  Life without my mom has always been a journey, I've said that before, but there have been times where I've seen the metaphorical Mile Marker 3.  Where it's not only no longer a burden to go on, but a joy.  There have been times where I've been living in the .1--me: pessimistic, sarcastic Dana, seeing mile 3, moving faster, grabbing my kid's hand, smiling, smooth moving for the last bit of the race, happy to finally cross the finish line.

Life Goes On

I left home at 17 and went to college in Boston.   It was there that I wore baggy jeans and Simple sneakers, gave up red meat for a year, stopped believing in God, questioned authority, and realized that if you don’t like something in your life it’s up to you to change it.

I returned to NJ after graduation and moved in with my parents.  My dad expected me to follow his rules, after four years of following my own, and so I moved out at 21 and got myself an apartment. 

It’s been my way or the highway ever since.

Don’t like my job?  Get a new one.

Don’t like my weight?  Change it.

Don’t like my house? Move.

Losing my mom has been the only thing that I have not been able to change.  I don’t want to be motherless.  I don’t want to raise children without their grandmother.  I don’t want to not have her here when I need her.  But I can’t change any of that.

That’s why I started this blog.  I was looking for a way to cope with something that I could not change.  All of my life I’ve been lead to believe that I am in control of my own happiness, and here I was, not happy and not able to change it.  I felt stuck.  I wanted my mother here and there was no way to make that happen and therefore, I would never be happy again.

I was wrong.  But I didn’t know it.  It took time.

For the first few years after her death, I felt like I was walking through a dark tunnel.  I was trying to get to the end, walking aimlessly with my arms out, reaching for anything that felt familiar, trying to figure out how to get out of this dark hell.  Every once in a while I grabbed a hold of something that brought me comfort-- a hobby, an achievement, a memory, a good time—and I thought, “Ok, Dana.  Move towards that.  That’s the right way.”  But then there were times when my eyes refused to acclimate to the darkness, and I lost hold of that good feeling, and I continued on my dark trek through the tunnel. 

Lately, however, the tunnel hasn’t been that dark.  It’s actually well-lit.  There are paintings on the wall and friends at every corner.  The ground is carpeted and the bathrooms are spotless.  The tunnel isn’t even a tunnel.  It’s a wide residential street with large leafy trees.  It’s a sunny day.  It’s jacket weather.  My daughter is riding her bike next to me.  My husband is holding my hand.  My dog doesn’t want to eat other dogs.  My daughter doesn’t have a potty mouth.  Greg isn’t lecturing me about leaving my purse on the kitchen counter.  I make a stop at Weight Watchers-I’ve lost 10 lbs this week!  How awesome.  Suddenly I’m jogging down the street.  I’m waving to people who are here to cheer me on.  My family is holding up signs.  My dad is smiling.  My sister is running next to me.  I’m the winner of the race.  The ribbon breaks against my stomach and I get a trophy and I’m laughing and we all break into a flash mob to Jessie J.’s Domino.

Maybe I can change this situation.  Maybe bringing my mother back is not the only way to be happy again.

Run, Dana, Run

I am having such a hard time exercising.  Or, I should say, finding time to exercise.  It seems like the day just contains too many other priorities, and when I finally stop for the day it's too late to go for a run. 

I've taken another employment position and I'll talk about that at some point soon, but I am hoping that with this new position, some more free time becomes available to me.  I have to convince myself, however, that this free time is permitted to be spent on me, and my life goals, rather than using it to spend more time with Leah or Greg.  I have to give myself the okay to spend some time alone doing something positive for me. 

The Absence of Suck

I was most concerned with not being able to stretch before the race began.  I have never been a morning runner, especially a cold morning runner, so I thought that if anything was going to go wrong, I didn't want it to be something that could have been avoided with stretched-out muscles. 

I didn't hear any sort of fanfare marking the official start of the race.  I thought I'd hear a gun shot, or a horn, but nothing.  This could have been because I had my ear buds in.  There were over 1500 runners and for a minute or so after the race began we all just moved forward in a herd.  I thought for a second that the entire race might be like this:  that maybe there were too many people and not enough road and we'd all just shuffle in a big group for three miles. 

Then the crowd began to open up.  People started taking off ahead of the group.  I remember running for a minute or so in line with my sister.  I remember her running with her hands in her pockets and wondering how the hell she was able to do that.  I remember my friend Lisa being a few feet ahead of us and looking back several times.  I remember when both of them began pulling farther and farther apart from me.  And I remember when I couldn't see either of them anymore.  And then there was me.  And I took a deep breath and fixed my ear buds again, and began the long lonely 3.1 mile journey.  As it's always been.  As I've grown accustomed to. 

A lot of people passed me.  People who weren't even jogging passed me.  But, as my sister had informed me the night before, my jog speed was slower than most people's walk speed, so I was expecting this.  A few minutes into the run I began seeing people on their way back.  I tried to get real close to the center line to attempt to make eye contact with the guy who had come in 60th place in the NY Marathon and was predicted to run the Sparta Turkey Trot in record time.  He zipped by me; I smiled at him, but he never saw me.  It would have been inspiring to catch his eye, but he has personal records and qualifying races on his mind.  He didn't have time for me.

The halfway point took forever to get to.  By the time I finally reached it, I had seen Gab, Lisa, and Adj zip by on their way back.  I could tell I was far behind them based on how long it took me to get halfway through, but I didn't care.  I wasn't doing this for time.  I was just doing this to run.  I kept my eyes on the road and rallied through.

The course had hills.  I didn't know this beforehand.  I'm sure it was for the best, since I would have been much more intimidated if I had known that hills were part of this challenge.  Welcome to the Black Parade played on the steepest one. 

At one point I found myself slowing down, each step becoming harder and harder to take.  My jog slowed and slowed and I felt my right leg fall into what I can only describe as a walk-step.  And my knee immediately locked up, and it jolted my body back to attention, and I continued to run.

I was so lonely at some parts.  Or maybe just bored.  Alone.  No one was on the side of the road cheering us on; I had no idea how much farther I had to go.  All I know is that it sucked.  It totally sucked.

And then I saw it.  Mile Marker 3.  And Florence and the Machine began.  And then Flo Rida followed.  And the wooden 3 sign grew larger as I got closer.  And I started running.  And I moved to the middle of the road.  And I didn't feel a thing.  Nothing hurt.  Nothing was hard about what I was doing.  I was sprinting down East Shore Trail all by myself early on Thanksgiving morning and I felt great.  I felt wonderful!  I was so happy.  Happy to be finishing.  Happy to be running.  Happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

And then.   Oh my god.  And then.  I saw my family.  I saw my husband and I saw my daughter and they were cheering for me.  FOR ME.  Leah ran to me and I stopped.  In the middle of the road before I hit the finish line, I stopped short.  And I grabbed her hand.  We started to run and she fell.  I picked her up and asked her if she was ok, and she said yes.  So, we held hands again and we ran to the finish line.  And it was perfect!  Gab and Adj and Lisa and Lan were all there.  Everyone was waiting for me.  And I crossed the line holding my daughter's hand.  And I was so happy.

And then the suck came back.  And it hurt.  My feel felt like they weren't mine.  I couldn't stop moving.  I had sprained my ankle when I stopped to get Leah.  I was trying to drink water.  I could barely talk.  Old Dana was back.  The Dana that is not athletic and can't run and doesn't do very well in sports and is fat, slow, and finds new gray hairs every week.

But, for a few minutes, when Mile Marker 3 came into view, I was someone else.  I was that person I used to remember.  It was awesome.   And I loved it.   And it didn't suck entirely.


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I DID IT!

We all did it.

Thanks for all the support and encouragement. 

Without you, I would not have been able to do this.

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And We're Off

Here we go...



Wednesday: T Minus 1 Day

The tatoo has been acquired...



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Tuesday: T Minus 2 Days

Clothes have been purchased...

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Monday: T Minus 3 Days

Practice is happening...

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Yes, I Still Run

I haven't mentioned running much within the past month or so, have I?  Well, because up until a week ago, I wasn't running much.  It's dark when I get home from work, and I have a prejudice towards treadmills.  So, I stopped running.

But, I never for once gave up on the Turkey Trot.  I set a goal a while back, and when I set goals, I meet goals, and, despite the fact that I had stopped training, and despite the fact that I had no idea how I was going to start up my training again, I never for once gave up on the Turkey Trot.  I never once thought that I would not be there on Thanksgiving morning.  In fact, I have a little surprise planned for the event.  Something I have been meaning to do for a while.

So, I'm back to training.  On the DREADMILL.  At 9:00 p.m. after Leah goes to bed and I manage to find all of my running accoutrements.  While catching up on the Housewives or Glee.

Tonight I made my running playlist.  There are a lot of good songs out there, like this one and this one.  Ooh, but especially this one. 

So, if you're doing nothing on Thanksgiving morning and you feel like watching me hobble my way through 3 miles, come on down. 
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Getting Back on Track-Running Update

While in Myrtle Beach, I ran once. The heat was unbearable, as Myrtle Beach is closer to hell, er, I mean the equator, and I just couldn’t find a time when I could step outside and not instantly start melting. Just from standing in place. So, I didn’t run…although I felt incredibly guilty about the whole thing.

The one night that I did run was rough.  I couldn't complete the run, and ended up walking a lot more than I normally do.  Also, while drivers in Sparta aren't always happy that they have to share the road with a runner, they don't want me dead.  Drivers in Myrtle Beach seemed downright angry about the fact that someone was running on the side of their road and therefore that person needed some schoolin' 'bout how things are done in the South.  I almost had to jump in a nearby pond when I swear I saw a woman swerve towards me as she passed.  She may have been smiling.

So, I gave up the endeavor and surrendered to the Land O'Hush Puppy and vowed that I'd resume my running program when I returned home.  Only I wasn't expecting it to get dark so early these days, and, at the risk of sounding like a broken record--the heat, mylanta, the heat--and therefore, here we are on Friday, four days after I've returned from vacation, and I've only run once. 

I'm not giving up on the running.  I'd be too proud to have to admit to you that I failed.  Plus, I enjoy running.  I especially enjoy talking about running.  But, I'm just in a rut.  I've had some very. big. things. happening in my life, things that I will be bringing up soon, and running just hasn't been a priority.  But, I still have 3 sections of my program to complete, and the Turkey Trot is looming closer, and I think that I need just one ideal run to whip me back into shape.  You know, just one run that's perfect: perfect weather, perfect time of day, perfect level of motivation, perfect amount of sleep the night before.  I need a run that I enjoy immensely to remind me why I like doing this and why I want to keep it up.

I'm hoping to complete that run this weekend.  So, wish me luck.

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Hello, Mile 3

Well. That sucked.




I was concerned that my jog was only taking me about 2.25-2.5 miles.



I am impatient.



I am slightly OCD.



Of course, I think I know more than Todd, the creator of my running program.



Therefore, I decided to take things into my own hands.



Last night, I jogged my normal “walk 2, jog 2” interval until I completed 3 miles. I had to prove to myself that I could do it.



It took 44 minutes. Which means that, at this rate, at the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot 5K that I plan on running, elderly, handicapped and infants will have completed the race and will mostly likely have showered and will be napping by the time I get to the finish line. People will be sweeping the streets and Christmas decorations will be going up on street lights.



So, I guess I need to work on my time a bit.



Today my legs are jello. And the ball of my left foot hurts. I’m exhausted. And starving. (The starving thing is really nothing new, though.)



Slow but steady, right?
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Running Update: Second Verse, Same as the First

So. Running. Not getting any easier. Or more enjoyable.


Don’t get me wrong-I LOVE the idea of running. But the actual act is a different story.

I am on Week Four of the program and, after a 5 minute brisk-walk warm up, I’m supposed to jog for 4 minutes and then briskly walk for 1 minute and repeat that whole shebang 5 times before a 5 minute cool down.

I’ve attempted and failed twice to get through this workout without having to stop for a break or slow down to a walk during one of the jogs.

It’s so hard.

I’m going to try again tonight. The weather is cooler than it has been, and I’m determined to do it, so maybe tonight will be the night.



In other news, friends that I don’t see very often have asked how much weight I’ve lost since I began running. Well, that’s easy! The answer is NONE!

What?

I know. I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong either. (Wine.)

Full disclosure: my scale’s battery died a few weeks ago. But, my clothing is fitting the exact same (if not tighter. I know—how cute!) as it always has. So, I’m pretty sure I haven’t lost any weight. (Wine.)

I wish I could figure out how to do this running program and drop a few. It would be like a little bonus! (Wine.)



In other, more inspirational news, my friend Catherine ran a half marathon a couple of weeks ago. A HALF MARATHON. 13.1 miles. I doubt I could walk that distance, let alone run it, so, kudos to Catherine.

She actually lived to tell about it too. In case that wasn’t obvious.



So, to recap:

1) Have not found the Absence of Suck

2) Have not lost any weight

3) Have a friend that can run long distances


  What do you say we look at something cute?

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Running Update: Highly Motivated, Slightly Able

Can I just tell you that I think about running non-stop? I mean, all.the.time. I flat out refuse to listen to music that’s not intense, fast, and motivating. I think about how my goal of running a 5K on Thanksgiving is lofty, but I am driven to do it. I imagine how nervous I’ll be before the race, and pray that my body’s usual way of dealing with anxiety--a certain bodily function I’ll leave up to your imagination--will not make an appearance. I dream about how proud I’ll be if I can keep up with Adriana and Gabrielle. I think about if anyone I know will come out to cheer me on. I wonder if I’ll cry when I see Leah at the finish line with Greg--actually, I wonder if I’ll see the finish line at all. I wonder if I’ll be able to jog the entire thing, and I pray that I won’t completely lose it if I have to bring it down to a walk at any point.


I’m putting so much on this goal--so much more than just being able to say I’ve completed a 5K.

This is something that I’ve never done and never thought I could do. This is something that my mother would never have expected from me. (I come from a long line of shoppers, not runners.) This represents a lifestyle that doesn’t include weight problems, health issues, heart conditions, mobility limitations, and weight loss surgeries. This represents life. A long life with my husband, child, dad, siblings, friends, future children, grandchildren family.

Now, if I can just stay focused and not think about how soon I will be training in 90 degree heat, I will do fine. I’ve completed week two of the running program I am doing, and today I will begin week three. I’m on a slightly slower track than the program suggests, but I have the extra time and I feel that I am benefiting from completing an extra workout before moving onto the next stage.

I’m not the most attractive runner on the track, if you know what I mean. I’ve never actually seen myself run, but I can only imagine I look tragic. I don’t have great form, or any form, really. I have to keeping reminding myself to land heel-toe, heel-toe with each step. I’m usually preoccupied with my pants and whether they are staying up, and my shirt, and whether it’s staying down.

But, you know what? I’m running. That’s what.
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Running Update-Week One: CRAPPY

Week One of running is over and all I have to say is that running totally bites the big one. 

Just getting ready to actually begin running takes planning of epic proportions. 

First, I have to find someone to watch Leah.  Then I have to find something to wear while running. And lest you think that I am talking about some cute little fitness get-up--NO.  I just need to make sure that all of my parts are er, well supported, if you know what I mean.  I try to show as little skin as possible.  Believe me, it's for the better.

Then, I have to find my gel insert for my left foot arch, some sort of head sweat band, an arm band for my ipod, those damn ear buds that give me a headache.  All the moons must align so that Venus is in retrograde and Confucius must have deemed this a proper running day.  I have to check the Farmer's Almanac....ok, I'm kidding.  But not about the clothes, the gel insert, the head band, and the ipod with all of its accoutrements. 

Oh, and finding someone to watch Leah.  Because the last thing I want to (translated: can) do is run while pushing one of those jogging strollers.  I am concentrating too hard on not breaking my ankle(s).

Add that to the fact that last week I was driving  to a place with flat streets so that I could run and not see anyone that I knew....well, that didn't last.  I now run around my neighborhood and if the neighbors see me, who cares.  If they have time to be watching then they have time to be standing on the side of the road handing me little cups of water. 

Two things of note this week:

1-Greg asked how it was going, and I told him that I am the slowest runner that I've ever known.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that most of the running world wouldn't even consider what I'm doing running.  He then said to me, "Oh, so no one's passing by and yelling 'Slow down!,' huh?"  

That one, as supportive as an athletic cup, right?

2-I was talking to some co-workers about the program and told them that I was pretty sure that running never becomes enjoyable, just maybe sucks less.  My boss then told me that my short-term goal should be to find "The Absence of Suck."  Hehe.  Ok, then, it'll be my quest.  I'll let you know when I reach it.  (Don't hold your breath.)

So, I am chugging along.  I am ready to begin Week Two's podcast, which will probably kill me.

At the rate we are going, I should be able to run a 5K by the time I'm 56 years old.  Can't wait.

Thinks mommy's gel insert should go in her sneakers. 

Do not forget that the Giveaway is still going on.  Head on over and enter to win a beautiful bracelet designed and hand-made by the Quirky Jo Ellen Roberts!  Good luck!  Winner to be announced on Friday.

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