Talk About Dull!

Another just-had-to-share story. Steve and his daughter's tale was inspiring. This one from the Metropolitan Diary in Monday's NYT is stultifying. I applaud the commitment to running, but venture forth! (I have italicized the part I can't fathom.)

"For 20 years, I ran 10 laps around my West Village block every day. I usually ran in the morning before work, but occasionally had to wait until evening.

"On one of those runs after a stressful day af the office, I was feeling really tired as I began my ninth lap. I'd decided to cut my run short until a woman sitting on a stoop called out, 'Is this your last lap?'

"Before I could say a word, her companion answered, 'No, she has one more to go.'

"Needless to say, I went on to complete the full 10 laps."

-SBS

A Proud Marathon Dad

I had to share this sweet tale from a dad here in Portland named Steve. He and his older daughter, Jennifer, age 26, are training to run Boston together. (That's them up there.) They've run the Portland Marathon together, and both set PRs last May at the Eugene Marathon (Jennifer ran 3:39 and he ran 2:59!). Here's the part of the tale (an email written by Steve) I had to share, as it made this mother tear up:

"For Christmas, I had technical running shirts done up with 'Running Boston with My Dad' on her shirt and 'Running Boston with My Daughter' on my shirt. She always insists on running on my left so her shirt has an arrow pointing right and my shirt has an arrow pointing left. She is super-excited about wearing them and doing that race. I thought she'd think the shirts were corny, but instead she cried and told me it was the best gift she'd ever received. I'm going to run every step of the Boston Marathon with her so watch for us on video at the finish line in our funny shirts!"

I know I daydream about sharing something so special with one (or all!) of my children.

-SBS

NYT Gear Test: iPhone Holders

I'm proud of my first New York Times story in 2010 so had to share. If you're old school, look for it in paper tomorrow.

Off for trade show and cold-weather, altitude running in Salt Lake City. Here's hoping for no lung-wrecking inversion!

-SBS

New Half Marathon PR

1:46:14 by my watch. That's what I ran yesterday at Cascade Half Marathon. More than 3.5 minutes faster than I ran it last year, and more than 6 minutes better than 2008. I'd told myself I wanted to run 1:47 this year, but my unspoken goal was 1:45. Maybe if there hadn't been headwinds on parts of the flat course, I could have shaved off 15 seconds or more.

I felt strong and capable the entire way and had a good finishing kick, yet why was I not jumping for joy at the end? Once again a classic case of not meeting my "true" goal. Like last year at Eugene Marathon: All along I'd been aiming to break 4 hours, yet about halfway through training, I got it in my head that I could qualify for Boston. When I shattered 4:00, but missed BQing by 1:38 minutes, I was left with stinging disappointment.

I wasn't that bummed yesterday, but I was let down to have come so close yet miss 1:45. As I have mulled over my reaction, I've decided it must be genetic. When I was in school, my mom specialized in focusing on the negative instead of the positives on my report card. I'd bring home a card littered with As, except for a B in Algebra and Woodshop. Instead of praising the top grades, my mom would harp on the less-than-perfect ones.

Don't get me wrong: I love my mom with my whole heart and think she's the greatest mom ever. But as much as I wish I could cook as well as she does or be as warm-hearted as she is, I need to appreciate my effort even if my result isn't always A+.

-SBS

Faster But Not Wiser

This morning, as I set out on an easy 30-minute run--my last jaunt before the Cascade Half this weekend--I got to thinking about speed. On the darkened street, I vividly recalled doing a tempo run in preparation for my 2007 marathon (Nike Women's). That training plan was the first time I was trying to hone my speed, rather than wishing I could magically go faster. I remembered how tough it was to push myself to maintain sub-9:00 miles on that same flat neighborhood street I was on.

Yet there I was, less than two years later, going on a lark of a run--and effortlessly loping along at that same rate. It made me realize speed is something that requires work, yet the payback is sweet. It just takes time. One track workout didn't make me a sub-4:00 marathoner overnight. It took months of track sessions and tempo runs, and now it's ingrained in me. I marveled at this (obvious) epiphany for a few blocks before getting distracted by REM's "Supernatural Superserious."

Not 20 minutes later, though, toward the end of my run, all my revelations about speed had flown out of my brain. Proof? As my Nikeplus sensor (a new one plugged into my new nano) counted down the last five minutes of my run, I noticed I covered way more distance than I normally do, say, when it tells me, "Four minutes left," and "Three minutes to go." A total moron, I decided there was something wrong with my new sensor or iPod. Honestly, it took until the voice congratulated me for completing my workout for me to realize, uh, no, technology was working fine--I'd just gotten faster.

An excellent affirmation to have before Sunday's race!

-SBS

Talk, Not Tunes

Like a lot of moms, I find it tough to schedule a workout with someone because I need to get up and get my run done. But twice in the last few days I've trotted alongside someone, at least for part of my run, and I'd forgotten how human companionship makes miles melt.

On Saturday, I did 10 miles--my final long run before Sunday's half-marathon--on a fairly popular route (Terwilliger) here in Portland. About 6 miles into it, I noticed a guy on the opposite of the street going the same pace. As we both climbed a long hill, he was exactly what I needed to not slow my pace. We continued on opposite sides of the street for about another mile . Then, through the luck of some lights and maybe just a smidgen of competitive juice, I caught up with him. I tossed out a, "good work on the hill back there" call, and was about to continue on solo, but when he asked me how far I was running, we fell into conversation. (And when I unplugged my headphones from my new nano, I discovered it plays music or talks--Nikeplus--outloud. Who knew?!) Despite him being cocky about his athletic accomplishments (I refrained from blurting out, "dude, you've done numerous Ironman triathlons, yet you still have a gut?" but I held my tongue), the end of my run flew by.

Then this morning, I did an easy, breezy run with my new neighborhood running pal Dana. I swear, at one point, we exited a park and in the blink of an eye, we had covered three blocks. It was like I went into a fugue state or something!

As much as I love my new nano and iTunes downloads, conversation trumps tunes some days. (That said, I'm all ears for new songs to add to my half-marathon playlist I'll be making later in the week.)

-SBS

Should I Start 2010 with a Clean Fridge?

When my husband, Jack, and I started dating, he lived in Chicago and I was residing in San Francisco. On his first visit, he brought me a few sentimental trinkets, such as a Chicago coffee mug, a shark Beanie Baby (long story), and a can of Orange Crush soda. I still treasure the coffee mug (I'm sipping tea from it right now) and the kids enjoy playing with the shark. Alas, the Crush is long gone.

But not for lack of love: I kept it stashed in my refrigerator for months. I stared at the unopened can whenever I spied it hidden behind the vanilla yogurt, mustard, pickles, and leftover Indian take-out. It reminded me of the full flush of our early courtship, our blossoming "crush." When I went on an extended stay with Jack in Chicago, my friend Elizabeth apartment-sat for me. It never crossed my mind to ask her to not drink the Orange Crush...which, of course, is exactly what she did. Ack: I was heartbroken! I don't even have the can as a memento as Elizabeth had dutifully recycled it.

Why am I telling you this story more than a decade later? Because I have had a similiar sentimental favorite in our fridge for more than eight months--a plastic bottle of Nestle Chocolate Nesquik. It was handed to me by a bouncy volunteer in the finish area of the Eugene Marathon as I hobbled around on my thrashed legs. The gal handed me two of them--I must have looked in need of something, anything--and I cracked open one on the spot. But I brought the other one home and, as you can see, stashed it in our SubZero. It expired July 23 last year, and I just noticed the sides of the bottle are kindof sucked in, as if the contents have seriously spoiled.

For all these months I haven't been able to bring myself to dump the drink and put the bottle at the curb. Whenever I spy it, it reminds me of my strong effort at the marathon. Yet now as I am about to embark on my training for my next 26.2-miler, I'm thinking it might be time.

What do you think?

-SBS

Survey about Activity and Psychological Transformation

I got this link to an anonymous survey from a dedicated runner I know here in Portland. I found it interesting to take (it only took about 5 minutes), allowing me to reflect on what running does for me. If you feel so inclined, take the survey or pass it along to your active friends.

A Stronger New Year

Not to get all woo-woo, patchouli-and-chimes on you, but I believe that my iPod sends me a message via the first song it serves up on a run. Sometimes the message is easy to decipher, such as when Lenny Kravitz growls out "Dig In" or Fergie tells me to "Pump It," but it makes me ponder when Elton John croons "Crocodile Rock."

Being New Year's Day, the first song on my first 2010 run held special import. I've had a tough few weeks, work-wise, so I'm especially eager for a new year, a new decade, a new start. Standing at the edge of my driveway, with my finger over the play button, I paused, almost paralyzed with concern about what song would play. My new nano (thanks, in-laws, I love it!) holds 959 songs. Enough to last 2.7 days, according to iTunes. Yet which song would get served up to set the tone for the coming days and months.

I took a deep breath and pressed play. As I dashed down the street, the strains of Britney Spears filled my ears as she sang "Stronger." My former power song. The one that has propelled me up countless hills, urged me through many a track repeat. I couldn't have wished for a more perfect note to start this new adventure on.

-SBS