Marathon Moms

Please Follow Me to www.RunLikeAMotherBook.com

2010-02-22T10:28:00.001-08:00

Today's a big step in a long journey that Dimity and I have been on together: The website for our book went live today. With only a month until our book hits stores nationwide (you can already pre-order it on Amazon), we are eager to build a community of strong, spirited runners. Dimity and I will be blogging more frequently. I have so appreciated your support on this blog, and I look forward to even more of a dialog on the new site. Please join the conversation!

-SBS

My Newest Secret Weapons

2010-02-11T13:47:00.001-08:00

We all need new tools in our arsenal every so often. Like yesterday I got the twins each a coloring/activity book at the Dollar Tree (or, as the kids call it, "The One-Dollar Store"). When they get loopy, I can distract and entice with the books and some fresh crayons. Or the easy chicken enchiladas recipe my pal Dana sent me.

As for me, I debuted a new pair of speedwork shoes this week--Asics GEL-DS Trainer 15s. They provide the moderate stability I need, but are lighter and faster than my current everyday shoes. I felt like I needed a little get-up-and-go for my first marathon track workout--6 x 800. I was supposed to do them in 3:45, with 1:35 rest in between. I can't run fast and handle too much technology (e.g. pushing buttons several times per lap on my Timex) so instead I recovered with a 200 (half a lap) between each repeat. In the past, my M.O. was to do a full lap (400) after each 800, so I was a bit worried about hitting my target of 3:45.

Silly me: The shoes--plus one other new tool--propelled me to even better times. My times ranged from the overachieving first 800 (3:33) to the slowest (3:43) with most in the 3:39 range. You might say I was a trifle stoked.

And my other secret weapon? I am not going to spill too much, but it is a mouthpiece I'm testing for an article in Runner's World. I was skeptical at first, but after going through some moves with a physical therapist from the company that developed it, I'm rapidly becoming a believer.

-SBS

What a Difference a Week Makes!

2010-02-08T12:03:00.000-08:00

Before I had kids, whenever I was going through a rocky patch--say, a long stretch of no dates--I'd feel like things were entrenched and they'd never change. But since becoming a mother, I realize life changes daily. Take, for example, bedtime battles. Ten days ago, the kids were driving me so insane at bedtime, I was ready to sell them on eBay. I'm ashamed to admit I might even have uttered that (empty) threat when I felt pushed to my limits by the kids arguing, getting out of bed, crying, whining, coming into our room, you know the scene. I felt I was at my wit's end--and I had no clue how to rectify the situation.

Oh, that was so January! Bedtimes are still less-than-calm, but the last few nights, the kids (the twins, in particular) have fallen asleep with a minimum of blood-pressure-raising shenanigans. (See the sleeping kiddos, above.)

Same thing has happened has happened with my marathon training. Honestly, last Monday I was worried I was late to the game and I'd never catch up. Forty-two miles, many, many hills, and just seven days later, and I'm feeling well positioned and primed. Example A: The weekend's long run. I was supposed to do 12 hilly miles at a pace of 9:15-9:45. I was so intent on tackling the climbs (I headed up Rocky Butte, one of Portland's biggest hills) that I lost track of distance. I unintentionally ran a half-marathon exactly...and averaged 8:59-minute miles. Better yet? I felt great at the end. One week down, and looking forward to the next 11. Who knows how things might change, but right now I'm confident and upbeat.

-SBS

Training for Big Sur Has Officially Begun

2010-02-01T14:32:00.000-08:00

As I've said here before, sometimes it works better for me to walk up to something backwards rather than facing it straight on. That's what I'm telling myself I've been doing the last month or two for the Big Sur Marathon, which I'm running on April 25. You see, if I don't convince myself that my weekly hill workouts and long runs for my recent half marathon can also count toward Big Sur training, then I'm already behind the 8-ball!

I have good friends training for Boston (a mere 6 days before my marathon) and they ran 21 miles over the weekend. I ran 12, paltry in comparison. As a mom, I know I'm not supposed to compare myself to others--at least that's what I tell my kids--but it's tough not to check out other runners' plans and mileage totals.

For now I'm sticking to my plan, telling myself I'll just get hurt if I try to make a big jump to keep up with my Boston buddies. I just need to remind myself that the end of April is still a long time from now. (Right????)

-SBS

Talk About Dull!

2010-01-28T17:48:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-25T12:16:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-20T17:16:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-18T15:10:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-15T14:43:00.001-08:00

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

2010-01-13T10:13:00.000-08:00

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?

2010-01-06T11:30:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-04T16:32:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-01T11:39:00.000-08:00

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

Fit or Fiction?

2009-12-22T15:42:00.000-08:00

I'm in need of some good karma, so I want to help out a good friend, fellow writer Liz Neporent, by posting this for her. Please don't post comment here, but respond diretly to her. Here's her plea:

Do you have a diet, weight loss, or fitness question you would like answered? Is there a fitness myth you would like busted? Or do you have a health and fitness topic you would like to see covered? If so, please send it to me and I will answer it on my AOL.com blog, Fit or Fiction.

Email: lizzyfit@aol.com or tweet at lizzyfit@twitter

Time to Cajole the Husband

2009-12-21T13:54:00.000-08:00

Last week, Dimity and I had a lively debate via email about what verb to use to describe handling a husband who is less than supportive of a wife's mileage. She had "dealing with," but I thought that sounded too negative, suggesting "cajole" instead. To me, that word implies coaxing, enticing, sweet-talking, and it has a joke element to it. All the things that sum up how I finagle Jack to not get grumpy about my running.

The topic was much on my mind last week as I was trying to find a way to break the news to him that I am about to start training for marathon #6--Big Sur on April 25. As I was quick to point out to Dimity in our email exchange: "It's not a question of Jack 'letting' me do another marathon or not. Ultimately I have free will. It's just how much I want to rock the family-boat."

Ultimately I made the Big Sur proclaimation with a good news/bad news approach, without putting it in those stark terms. One evening, after the dinner dishes were cleared away, I shoo'd the kids down to their basement playroom so Jack and I could converse in relative quiet. I told him I'd decided I was going to take a break from my rowing team until at least May 1. As I had expected, he was very pleased with this news. (He's not opposed to rowing, just the drama that is constantly simmering on my team.) I waited a few good moments, then followed it up with, "And I'm running the Big Sur Marathon in late April." I then blah-blah-blah'ed about what a fabulous marathon it is, such as having just been named by Runner's World as the Best Destination Marathon in the U.S. I might as well have been describing, at length, the new pair of knee-high boots I'd gotten or the color of lipstick a friend had worn to book group.

Yet without saying much, Jack quickly got on board. Partly, I think, because with rowing out of the equation, I can now run long on Saturday instead of Sunday, thus avoiding the Sarah-run versus Jack-Mass log jam. I've now worked a mention of Big Sur into several conversations, making it seem a natural part of our family landscape. After about the third time, even Jack made some joking mention of Big Sur back to me, telling me he's okay with it.

I'm pleased to see my cajoling worked as I'd hoped.

-SBS

SBS Two-fer in New York Times

2009-12-17T20:07:00.000-08:00

Sorry, folks: This morning during my track workout (1 x 2 miles at half-marathon pace; 2 x 1 mile at 10K pace; 2 x 800-meters at 5K pace), I suddenly remembered I had two articles in Thursday Styles section of New York Times. As it totally made me pick up my pace, I told myself I'd put links to the articles on this blog as soon as I got home.

Uh, that was 12+ hours ago! Another busy workweek...

Better late than never, right? Here's one on performance mouthpieces for runners and cyclists. After interviewing the Citadel researcher, a marathoning mom who saw an amazing drop in her average pace while using an Under Armour one, I was pretty much sold on trying one. The yoga socks article is about the 40th Gear Test I've written, but this one had the most beautiful photos ever. Skip the socks, but check out the photos online.

-SBS

Thomas Hardy Said It Best

2009-12-10T18:02:00.000-08:00

Sorry for not posting this week: I can't remember the last time I was so hammered with deadlines. But I wanted to share this snippet from Tess of the d'Urbervilles, the classic by Thomas Hardy that I just devoured. (Read it!) If I had a free week, I'd write a term paper on, "Dawn and Dusk in Thomas Hardy's Late Fiction." In lieu of that, here's the paragraph that I think most running moms can relate to!

"The grey half-tones of daybreak are not the grey half-tones of the day's close, though the degree of their shade may be the same. In the twilight of the morning, light seems active, darkness passive; in the twilight of evening, it is the darkness which is active and crescent and the light which is the drowsy reverse."

Something to contemplate as the sky pinks up on your next pre-dawn run.

-SBS

4,500 Days of Running and Counting

2009-11-30T17:16:00.000-08:00

Ah, yes, just as this somewhat-addicted runner was feeling at peace with four days of no exercise (my longest time off since the twins' birth in summer 2005), a friend sends me this article about a woman who is training for her 102nd marathon who has run every.single.day since January 1, 1997, even through her treatment for breast cancer. I tip my (running) hat to her.

-SBS

Pajamas in the Daytime

2009-11-30T10:32:00.000-08:00

While most folks are groaning about pumpkin-pie overload and tryptophan hangovers, I'm just thankful to be upright with a temperature of 98.6. I got knocked sideways last week by a fever and hacking cough. It crept up on me on Tuesday, but by Wednesday morning I sensed working out was not a wise idea. By Thursday, I was huddled under the covers in my feverish-sweat-soaked p.j.s. Yup, on Thanksgiving, I never even got dressed, a true rarity in my get-up, get-ready world.

Getting sick makes everyone miserable, and I'm no exception, but for me so much of my pity-party is caused by lack of workout. Thanksgiving was the only day I felt too crummy to exercise--a run didn't even cross my fever-addled brain. But on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, I most certainly entertained the idea of a workout, just a little sweat-session. On Day 1 of my illness, the mind-monkeys were particurlarly loud. The fact it was sunny only made matters worse. Finally, mid-afternoon, I put on my Nikes and went for a 20-minute walk. No perspiration, but at least I got a small dose of sunshine.

On Friday and Saturday, I knew hubby-Jack was watching me for signs of idiocy, uh, I mean activity. Coincidentally, I had been sick on Thanksgiving 2008 so he sensed I was pulling a fast one. (If so, I should audition for the role of a TB sufferer, as my coughing acting-chops are well honed...) While I probably could have limped out a short run or a session on a stationary bike, the truth was I didn't have the energy. I hadn't eaten much for days as my appetite was nil.

When I finally went for a trial run yesterday morning, I felt like I was running on fumes. Literally. My legs were running, but my head was swimming. I only went for 30 minutes, an unheard-of short run for me, but it felt plenty long. Today's 48-minute one felt much closer to normal, until I checked the pace on my Nikeplus--about 25 seconds per mile slower than usual.

But I'm confident I'll be right as rain before too long. How do I know? On this morning's run, instead of feverish delusions, my mind swirled with visions of an hour forty-something PR at my mid-January half-marathon. Along with my temperature, my attitude is back to normal, too.

-SBS

What Are Friends For?

2009-11-25T13:25:00.001-08:00

On the heels of my running buddy post, I had to share this email I just got from a friend (who shall remain nameless to save her dignity). I will say that she and I occasionally take a yoga class together, and we worked out at the gym together this week.

"Just did about 40 min on eliptical (flanked by 2 mirrors) and found a 3 ft long piece of toilet paper hanging out of the back of my pants 35 min into my workout. I need a workout buddy.

Yes, I'm assuming you would have told me."

Let's all be thankful for the friends in our lives who would tell us that toilet paper was sticking out of our capris!

-SBS

Muddy Buddies

2009-11-23T11:29:00.000-08:00

I have many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, and on Saturday I added "new running buddies" to my list. This weekend, I got to run one of my favorite Portland runs--the length of Leif Erikson Drive, an 11.2-mile long fire road--with a new-to-me group of gals. The run was spearheaded by a woman named Tahni. I've known her casually for a few years but from the moment I met her, I thought we could be friends. Yet, is it just me, or is it tough to make friends with someone when you don't have kids at the same school, on the same soccer team, or in the same dance class?

Lucky for me, Tahni is a social coordinator par excellence who corrals groups of like-minded women together. She lassoed me for her running group. It's tough to join them midweek as they run earlier than I do. (I love running buddies, but I also treasure every minute of sleep!) Running the length of Leif is an undertaking that involves caravanning a car to the far end of the trail. I only get the luxury about once or, at most, twice a year. So I was delighted to join them for reasons both social and logistical.

I really like all of Tahni's gal-pals, all sporty, exuberant, engaging, and thoughtful. Only bummer: Almost all of them run a minute or two per mile slower than I do. Out of five women, only one ran close to my pace (which I'm not saying is speedy, only relatively so on that run). Even so, I returned home hopped on the excitement of having found a new posse to hang with. Now if only I'd be thining, I would have snapped a photo with my phone to show you my new muddy buddies. Next time.

-SBS

Hills Don't Have to be Hell

2009-11-15T09:48:00.000-08:00

As planned, I hit the hills this past week. But my as-of-late laid-back approach still affected how I did them. Usually I run for about 20 minutes on the flats, then attack a set of hills repeatedly with a singular focus. For example, there's a cluster of three hills that lead up a nearby ridge. One hill is longer and less steep than the other two. If I'm doing 10 hill repeats, I typically start with three trips up and down the longer hill, then have the meat of my workout be three repeats up and down each of the other two hills, and finish with one more trek up the longer one. Then I run about 15 minutes to cool down.

Instead, on Friday, I decided to embark on a random-for-me route that included a variety of hills. The run started out fairly normally--through my neighborhood and into a bordering park. Then I headed up a fairly gradual hill onto the same ridge. From thereI ran parallel to the ridge, dropping down pretty much any hill I came across, then hustling back up it to the ridge again. I felt like a seamstress stitching the most random pattern across a swatch of fabric.

The end result was the same: 10 hill repeats. But having the hills be spread out over the bulk of my run instead of clustered together in the middle made for a livelier, more free-spirited run. Who knows if the session was any less effective for my body, but my mind sure enjoyed the ride.

-SBS

End of the Racing Season Part I

2009-11-06T16:09:00.000-08:00

Oddly enough, for a competitive person, I've never really had an annual racing calendar. But, looking back, this year I guess I did. Eugene Marathon in May, rowing regionals in June, Red Dress 5K in July, a 10K and Hood to Coast in August, the Merrell Oyster adventure race in September, and the banner month of October with two rowing races (both golds!) and the Nike Women's half marathon.

And now it's come to an end.

Usually, having no foreseeable race would put me into a tailspin of dejection and depression. (I'm talking relative terms here, as I'm a sunny person by nature.) Instead, I can't remember the last time I felt so happy and alive during my morning runs and bike rides. I literally sometimes burst into song on my outtings. I know part of it has to do with the time change--now the sky is pinking up as I head out the door. And part of it may be the tunes I'm playing: On my hour-long run on Wednesday, I listened exclusively to songs from my new favorite show, Glee. (Yes, that's me as Coach Sue Sylvester on Halloween with my burgeoning Cheerios!)

I feel liberated. Not in a racing-was-wearing-me-down way because it wasn't--I approached each race with excitement and exuberance. (Like I said: I'm an upbeat person.) But I do feel footloose and fancy free running without any agenda. I've extended most of my weekday runs, going for an hour instead of 45-50 minutes, yet I'm not watching the time. I'm running for a feeling. I decide on a route I maybe haven't done in a while, then do it. On my recent Glee-fueled run, I paused to watch the sun rise next to majestic Mount Hood.

My plan is to start adding in hill repeats next week, then head back to the track the following week as I'm racing the Cascade Half Marathon in mid-January. But, who knows, maybe I'll just cue up "Can't Fight This Feeling" for the hundredth time and go for a just-for-the-hell-of-it run along the river.

-SBS

Pushing Past the Pain of Exertion

2009-10-29T12:03:00.000-07:00

Sorry, folks, I always have to share when I have a fitness feature in the New York Times. This article is about pushing past the pain of exertion, a topic I'm personally fascinated by. I spoke to intriguing experts (alas, I only had space to quote five of them) as well as three amazing athletes--Kara Goucher, Chrissie Wellington, and Dean Karnazes. It was a thrill and honor.

Please let me know what you think about the article and the topic in general. I might be writing about it for a magazine as well.

Note to Self: Look Forward to Challenges

2009-10-26T16:03:00.000-07:00

Reading in front of an audience and racing: The two activities don't sound very similar. But this month I came to realize I feel the same about both of them: I don't look forward to the event, but then I enjoy the heck out of it. Silly me!

Two weeks ago, I took part in a reading from an anthology I contributed to called P.S. What I Didn't Say: Unsent Letters to Our Female Friends. The editor is a friend of mine who also lives here in Portland so I took part in the reading as a favor to her. It didn't even occur to me to get excited about it--it was crammed into a busy work week, the night before I flew to San Francisco for the Nike Women's half marathon. I frantically practiced reading aloud twice, but didn't give it anymore thought than that. I didn't even change my outfit, wearing what I'd thrown on post-shower, pre-carpool. I trust I put on some lip gloss, but I could be wrong. Several friends and rowing teammates were at the reading, which meant a lot to me. Yet it wasn't until about a third of the way through my short letter that I paused to listen to the audience chuckling at my words. A paragraph later, a thought flitted through my mind, "enjoy this--it's fun!"

Fast forward three days, one plane ride, and 12 hilly miles, and I was in the final stretch of the half marathon. I spotted my pal Lindsey ahead of me, and I turned on the juice to pass her. As I trotted down a sweet incline toward the Pacific, I was again struck by the realization that I was having fun and I should luxuriate in the moment. As I cruised toward the finish line, I tried my belated best to soak up the experience.

I was reminded of all of this during a phone interview last week with my new sports hero, Ironman world champion Chrissie Wellington. It's for an article in this Thursday's New York Times about dealing with exertional pain during a race. Chrissie was giving all sorts of great tips and sharing anecdotes, including this: "After every race, I take time to bank the feeling in those final miles and crossing the line. That feeling is so hard to bottle, reflecting back on that is incredibly empowering and uplifting."

Right on, Chrissie. Right on.

-SBS

Arm warmers anyone?

2009-10-22T11:28:00.000-07:00

Alas, my reference to Kara Goucher got taken out (she and Chicago 2009 winner Sammy Wanjiru wear the Nike one reviewed), but check out the Gear Test I wrote about arm warmers, appearing in today's New York Times.

Big Smile at Nike Women's Half

2009-10-20T14:07:00.000-07:00

I crushed the hills of San Francisco this Sunday in the race! While I can't tell you official time (argh! Nike marathon site really needs help!), my unofficial time was about 1:50:17, almost 4 minutes faster than last year--and in 2008, I felt I had jammed. I felt good the entire way, comfortable in my intimate knowledge of the race course. I could tell the hills proved daunting to many runners, especially when the hills stretched on and on. But having lived--and run--in San Francisco for eight years (in the 1990s) and having done the course several times before, I knew the false crests, knowing slightly more hill lurked beyond it. I had started up near the front, so I was surrounded by speedier runners, but my confidence was boosted again and again when I passed runners near the top of a hill.

I worked my familiarity with the course to my advantage, cutting a true course through the turns and taking in gels on the flats before the two hilliest sections.

I tried to smile like Ironman phenom Chrissie Wellington but it didn't work too well until the final mile, a gradual downhill where I passed my pal Lindsey, who is about 12 years my junior. By that point in the race, I knew I had it in the bag, and I could let gravity have its way with me to pull me toward the finish.

This post is pretty scattered, but suffice it to say: I adored this race this year (as did Dimity, who ran a speedy 1:54 after much sandbagging). Such a blast. And I loved meeting some of you post-race. We're all awesome runner chicks!!

-Sarah

photo: L-to-R: SBS, good pal Dana Sullivan, Dimity

Smile and the World Smiles with You

2009-10-12T12:14:00.000-07:00

No matter my mood, I usually go through life with a stern look on my face. It’s not uncommon for someone on the sidewalk to tell me to “cheer up” or to say, “things can’t be that bad.” These strangers are missing the fact it’s not that I’m unhappy, I’m just not a natural smiler.

But after being in Kona and watching Chrissie Wellington crush her third straight Ironman championship on Saturday, I am committed to flashing my pearly whites more often. I am in awe of Chrissie’s athletic accomplishments—winning her first Ironman championship a mere 10 months after becoming a professional triathlete; coming in first in all seven Ironman races she’s competed in; finishing 23rd overall at Kona this weekend; running a 3:03 marathon at the end of an Ironman, and more—but I am even more impressed by her attitude throughout. I swear Chrissie wore a smile for all 141.6 miles of the race. Even underwater, I’m convinced.

She looked exuberant as she ran through the hoses in the swim-bike transition. Chrissie was wearing an enormous grin as she whizzed through the aptly named “Hot Corner” near the bike transition area. And she was beaming—yes, positively beaming—as she ran up a steep, steady hill at mile 10 in the marathon. (My photo, above, doesn’t begin to capture her cheery face. Dratted iPhone photo-delay!)

After cheering my heart out for Chrissie as she broke Paula Newby-Fraser’s 17-year Kona record, I knew I had to do something to be just a bit like Chrissie. I decided wearing a smile as I tackle San Francisco hills this Sunday in the Nike Women’s half marathon will be my homage to this phenomenal Ironman athlete. Chrissie shows that smiling in the face of adversity is the way to go.

-Sarah

An Ideal Athletic Day: Rowing Plus Marathon Pacing

2009-10-07T15:18:00.000-07:00

Sunday was a banner day. My rowing team, Portland Women’s Rowing, raced in Portland’s Row for the Cure. Last year we’d had a disappointing row. With a new coach and an infusion of new rowers, we were looking for vindication. The water on the Willamette River was almost perfectly flat under an equally flat grey sky. No wind. It was our time to shine.

After a few jokes and talk of “Glee” in the starting area, we were off to a strong, steady start. And we stayed on it the entire race. We moved smooth and steady, pushing our puddles past our stern. I felt I was able to apply my power well, and my running-honed endurance served me well throughout the entire 5K race. We never caught the 8-woman boat that started 10 seconds ahead of us, but no need: With age handicaps figured in, we won our Masters division.

No time to celebrate, though. I swapped out my rowing unitard for a running skirt, and caught a ride down to the 24-mile point of the Portland Marathon. By then the sun was peering from behind scattered clouds. I cheered on the runners as I waited for my pal Jill to come trotting by. Jill and I met through this blog, and she was running Portland, her 10th marathon, largely on my urging. I wished I’d been able to pace her for longer, but 2.2 miles would have to suffice.

I spotted Jill with my good friend Ellison, who had paced her since mile 21. Jill had a grim look on her face, but was still moving relatively well. She had told us over plates of pasta that she wasn’t much for chatting during a marathon, so I tried to offer simple words of encouragement and pointers about upcoming terrain. Soon, though, I realized Jill needed more to distract her from the painful remaining distance. Yet my mind was a blank. I’m usually a chatty-Kathy on a run, but on Sunday I could only come up with a few short anecdotes. Ack!

It sufficed. Despite an ear infection and an injury or two, Jill ran her second fastest marathon ever, missing a PR by a mere 15 seconds. Later that day she emailed me words that was icing on the cake of a fantastic day. “I cannot thank you enough for your support the last two miles. I was totally done with that thing and had you not been there, I think I would have stopped and walked.”

-SBS

P.S. Like our Moeben arm warmers? Check them out.

Running with a Stroller article in New York Times

2009-10-01T09:41:00.000-07:00

Not sure which I'm more proud of: the fitness feature I wrote that is in today's New York Times Thursday Styles section about running with a stroller....

Or the Gawker article trashing it!

-SBS

The Challenges to a Mother's Heart

2009-09-29T14:19:00.001-07:00

Picture it: Saturday. San Francisco. Achingly blue sky. Streaming sunshine. Golden Gate Bridge resplendent over the bay. Merrell Oyster urban adventure race. Five super-fun jockettes + me, running, cycling, and scavenging our way around my most favorite city.

We were having a blast, on a rollercoaster of adrenaline and activity. With our 6-woman team (including professional adventure racer Robyn Benincasa), we could alternate challenges because only three teammates had to do each one. Lindsey, Kerry, and I kicked race off by running along Marina Green to find something called the Wave Organ, then dashing back to the “home base” of Crissy Field so that Robyn, Dana, and Kerry could pedal to the Ferry Building to buy veggies beginning with letters O, Y, S, T, E, and R.

When they returned, three of us ran off, and I got the thrill of swimming in the bay to a kayaker to retrieve our next task, which involved indoor rock climbing. You get the picture: multi-sport activities plus zany challenges. Triathlon meets the “Amazing Race.”

Yet amidst all this glory, after my teammates had set out on their bikes again, melancholy washed over me. I marveled at my surroundings and wondered what was bringing me down. Oh, yeah: I’d idiotically checked my iPhone and had read an email from the twins’ preschool teacher, who told me John, 4, has been telling other children he’d “kill them” if they didn’t give him the puzzle or fairy wings he wanted to play with. And every time the children are to embark on a new activity, John asks, “is this going to kill me?” The teacher said this behavior seemed to stem from him seeing part of a movie on the computer of our babysitter’s daughter.

Sigh. I’ve never had to confront such behavior or really any inappropriate words or actions before, as big-sis Phoebe is the consummate rule-follower. (Classic first child.) I don’t want to say the rest of the 4.5-hour race was ruined for me, but after that I carried sadness and concern with me as surely as the pack on my back.

I guess when you’re a mom, you can run, but you can’t hide.

-SBS

Stronger

2009-09-17T17:00:00.000-07:00

Given Kanye West's latest appalling behavior, I apologize for naming this post as I did, but it sums up how I've been feeling lately. Like realizing my hair went from all-over golden to having 3" grow-out overnight (honestly!), I suddenly noticed my regular running pace is speedier than it used to be. Without trying, my maintenance runs are now done at what used to be my marathon tempo pace. And my tempo runs are now sub-8:00, even with hills. What's up with that!?

On my runs, I keep debating what it is that's making me faster. Here's what I've come up with:

-Hill repeats. In preparation for Nike Women's Half Marathon, I've shifted several track workouts to hill ones, including one monster hill I tackle twice in an hour-long trail run. If you read about Dimity and me running the full Nike Women's in 2007, you know the hills were my nemesis. I know better now, and I'm prepping my legs for the challenge. Now I realize the hills are helping me on the flats as well.

-Yoga for Runners. I've been taking this class once a week at my gym since mid-summer, and my body is thanking me for it. I'm not a yogini by any means--I'm still far from limberl, and yoga usually makes me say, "yawn," instead of "om"--but I always feel infinitely looser and less achy after an hour of twisting and bending. Prior to committing to the class, my left glute used to groan most of the time, and my left Achilles tendon often chimed in with a painful hum, but now both areas are relatively silent.

-Core work. My rowing team has a new coach, an Olympic sculler, who is whipping us into shape. Part of the required regimen is four core workouts a week, totalling 1,000 core reps (variety of exercises). Like my oldest daughter, I'm a rule follower, so I'm crunching, planking, bicycling, and grunting after my runs or rows. I'm not expecting a call from the photographer for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue anytime soon, but I feel significantly stronger through my midsection.

Or who knows what may be making me for fleet-footed. Whatever it is, I'm liking it.

Hood to Coast: a Good, Good Time

2009-08-31T16:28:00.000-07:00

Call me loony tunes, but I believe my iPod sends me subliminal messages. As in, the first song it plays tells me something about my upcoming run.

Thus I took it as a very good omen when the first song rocking in my ears on my first leg of the Hood to Coast was the Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling.” You know, that inane new ditty repeating over and over again, “I gotta feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night.”

And indeed it was! This was my ninth Hood to Coast relay, my fourth with my kickin’ all-women’s team called See Jane Run. A creature of habit, I had chosen to run leg 7, maybe my 5th or even 6th time running that leg, which is the first one in van 2. (Since becoming a mom who breastfed her kiddos, I now find I’m hardwired to get up and be ready for action!) My first two legs are hilly, and I had prepped by doing a lot of hill training, especially in the last few weeks. Those training runs did their job strengthening my legs—and my mind. When the inclines started getting me down, I reminded myself of all the hills I’d cruised up recently. I ran the first leg, a 5.65-mile, hilly one, at an 8:14 pace, fine-tuning a balance between giving it my all and saving some for the rest of the race. (The photo, above, is me waving as I left the transition area. I'm the blur in teal lululemon shirt and black skirt.)

My second leg got off to a rocky start. Long story, but our van was 24 minutes late to the transition area. Guilt weighed me down as I ran off into the darkness at 4:44 a.m. Then part of my earbud got stuck in my ear (another long story). Rather than fight it the whole time, I asked a volunteer to shine his flashlight into my ear and fish it out. I lost about 30 seconds doing that, but I told myself I’d hit “reset” after that hiccup. And I did: While the hills still slowed me down, I set off with a new attitude. I ran the 5.89-mile leg, one of only five of the entire relay that earn the toughest label of “Very Hard,” in 52:24 (8:53/miles). Given that was my marathon pace on an Iowa-flat marathon course, I felt pretty good about that time.

Then I cranked on my final leg, a 4-miler that is flat to downhill until the final quarter-mile, when it takes an evil climb. Even on less than four hours of patchy sleep and almost 12 miles behind me, I cranked out 7:30s, outsprinting a much-younger runner at the finish. By then, it was almost 2:00 in the afternoon, but it still felt like part of a good, good night.

-SBS
Even losing approximately 27 minutes to missed handoffs, my team finished 7th in the women’s submasters division in a time of 27 hours, 1 minute.

10K PR

2009-08-17T11:45:00.000-07:00

I can only dream of running as fast as Usain Bolt in the 100-meters or Paula Radcliffe in the half-marathon, but I set my own record in a race this weekend--and I'm super-proud of myself! I raced a 10K on Saturday, doing it in 47:37 (7:39-minute miles). I finished 14th overall, and I was the 5th place woman. I was elated--and stunned. Me, an athletic late-bloomer, near the front of the pack?

Granted, it was a small field...but as a friend on Facebook wrote, "There are no small races, only small runners." Obviously she was making a joke, but to this 5' 11", 162-pound runner, there was a grain of truth in it. I'm not built for running at fast speeds yet I've set four PRs this year. (5K, 10K, half, and marathon) My commitment to speedwork over the past two years plays an important role in these great-for-me times. On the track and during tempo runs, I taught my legs and arms to move more efficiently and trained my system to use oxygen more effectively. And along the way, somewhere between 4 x 1200s and five miles at 8:00-tempo, I also developed mental toughness.

Now, in races, instead of shying away from the lactic acid and the burning lungs, I push toward them, knowing I can handle both capably. When a slice of my brain tells me to let up on the pace, a bigger part tells me to keep pressing on the accelerator. While I enjoyed the beauty of the riverside course at Saturday’s 10K, I didn’t allow myself to be distracted from the task I set out for myself. As soon as I felt my mind drift, my pace dropped. I’d re-focused by looking at the few runners in front of me and trying to rein them in.

One of the biggest thrills in the race was when I passed a buff, shaved-head guy about a mile from the finish. (Is it just me, or does bald head say, "serious jock" to you, too?) I’d had my sights set on him since the halfway turnaround point. He looked like the consummate runner, with lithe, sinewy muscles and a relaxed-yet-strong stride. I was amazed when I realized I was gaining on him. It became obvious he was running out of gas, but my Garmin Forerunner also told me my pace was accelerating in mile 5 and 6 rather than slowing down.

Needless to say, I now can’t wait to race, not run, the Hood to Coast Relay next week!

-SBS

I'm Set to PR This Weekend

2009-08-10T14:59:00.000-07:00

I often can go months and months without running a race, but this year is different: Thanks to a commitment to speedwork, I'm primed to PR. I figure I better strike while the iron is hot. So little more than a month after setting a new personal best in a 5K, I'm going to toe the line in a 10K. I'm doing the Pace of Courage Run here in Portland, which supports a family in their fight against cancer and their goal to promote cancer awareness.

It's a heartbreaking story involving two types of cancer--the mother has a recurrence of ovarian cancer and the three-year-old son recently succumbed a rare form of brain cancer. I know I will be wiping away many tears along with sweat as I run.

I debated whether it was crass to try to run my fastest at such a meaningful, heartfelt fundraiser, but I decided I'd be showing a passion and commitment to life by doing so. I've stepped up my speedwork with make-me-proud results: On Friday, I did a tempo run. Before going to bed on Thursday night, I told myself I'd run 5 miles at tempo, but in the early light of day, that goal seemed daunting so I told myself I "only" had to go 40 minutes. Silly me: I ran so fast (7:55/mile, on average), I ended up covering slighly more than my original assignment. Proving, once again, it's all in the mindset. Sometimes it's better to approach a hurdle from a different direction to make it seem less daunting.

Then this morning I hit the track for a final pre-race session. I did 4 x 1200, telling myself anything under 6:00 was great (yet knowing, full well, I really wanted to run 5:30s). I did 5:32, 5:29, 5:33, and 5:26. Woo-hoo. I urge all of you Portland runners to join me on Saturday morning. Let's race!

The Acorn Doesn't Fall far from the Tree

2009-08-02T15:15:00.000-07:00

I am forever wondering how experiences and exposure are influencing my children. Just when I start to think the only thing that really sticks with them are snippets of "Spongebob Squarepants" episodes, I get a glimmer of something more meaningful that restores my faith. Like last week: Phoebe went to Girl Scout camp all week up in the mountains west of Portland. We were having a heat wave, so it had the making for a miserable week. Instead, she had a fantastic time. During dinner on Friday, she announced, "I love being outside." I was ecstastic as my love of being outside is one of the main reasons I run. I asked her what she liked about being outside. She replied, "I like being close to trees."

Her answer warmed me even more than the 106-degree temps had.

-SBS

The Road Not Taken

2009-07-26T14:33:00.000-07:00

When I’m running, I often ponder parallel-universe situations. Like what our life would be like if Jack and I had stayed in San Francisco instead of moving to Portland. What it be like if we’d had kids at a younger age. Or had two kids instead of three.

So this morning, it was natural that my mind veered to the alternate reality I could have been living today: racing a half-marathon instead of going for my own 10-mile run. Oh, was I ever glad I’d opted out of the race! I decided not to do the half-marathon about 10 days ago. Long story, but the main reason was money: I’d missed the early registration window, and I wasn’t ready to pony up the now-higher entry fee. I had some “am I slacking off?” angst while making up my mind, but as soon as I landed on my decision, I felt wonderfully liberated. Suddenly I didn’t have to do a track workout the next morning (I ran, then lifted weights instead), and I was able to run slightly shorter on Sunday than I would have otherwise.

And now it’s no regrets. Last evening, as we ate a protein-heavy dinner on the deck, I thought, “oh, I’m glad I don’t have to worry about carbo-loading!” When Daphne took forever to calm down and fall asleep last night, my mind flickered, “at least I don’t have to stress about having a full night’s sleep.” And as I grabbed a single packet of gel before heading out to run for 90 minutes, I delighted in not having to figure out my energy needs in a racing situation. As I took one last swig of water before happily heading out, I was reminded of one of my favorite scenes from “The Simpsons,” when a character says, “man, if this is happening here, I’d hate to think of what’s happening in Euro Itchy and Scratchy Land,” and the screen cuts to a dreary, deserted amusement park in France. Not exactly sure why, but as always, I chuckled thinking about that line.

Now my focus shifts to the Hood to Coast Relay at the end of August. My second leg of the race is almost all uphill, so I’m going to veer away from the track and do hill repeats instead. Onward…and upward.

-SBS

Speedy Sarah

2009-07-13T11:20:00.000-07:00

Wave your hands in the air and give it up for me: I ran 22:19 on Saturday, averaging 7:11/mile. I placed 31st overall out of 816 runners (all women), and I was the #1 Athena (150+ pound woman--I'm 5' 11"). Woot-woot!! Seriously, I am stoked.

The playlist that got me revved up:
"Sun Children" by Nickodemus
"Disturbia" by Rihanna
"Love Sex Magic (feat. Justin Timberlake)" by Ciara
"Piece of Me" by Britney Spears
"Right Round" by Flo Rida
"Gimme More" by Britney Spears
"Stronger" by Britney (what can I say: Britney's beat gets me movin'!)
"Heart of a Champion" by Nelly & Lincoln University Vocal
"Don't Stop Believin'" by Glee Cast Version (the song I'm currently addicted to!!)
"Gold Digger" by Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx

Crossed the finish line only 13 seconds into "Stronger," but I listened to rest of playlist as I cooled down, savoring an orange popsicle and my runner's high. It was a great race and I had a great time. My finish-time still feels unreal to me--it's 75 seconds speedier than my previous best for a 5K--since I don't consider myself "fast."

Guess I should really listen to those peppy "Glee" cast members and always remember to "don't stop believin'."

-SBS

Looking To Set a 5K PR This Saturday

2009-07-06T13:36:00.000-07:00

Marathon-schmarathon: I'm going short this weekend! My eyes are fixed on my 5K this Saturday. I'm on the East Coast visiting relatives (does that qualify as "vacation"!?), and I got in some awesome, focused training runs at my inlaws in upstate New York. A challenging 2.5-mile warm-up run, then I came upon a track I had all to myself for 5 x 800 meters, with first and third 200s at 3K pace, then 2nd and 4th 200s at 10K pace. It was humid and I was drenched by the time I returned, but I felt victorious. As we all know, it's tough to do a track workout solo, and it felt like there wasn't another living soul within shouting distance, let alone trotting around the track.

Then on Sunday morning I did a confidence-boosting tempo run on a delightfully flat rail-trail. I told myself I would do 30 minutes at 8:00 pace, and I ended up averaging 7:55-minute miles for the half-hour. Woo-hoo! I have faith adrenaline and competitive fire can knock at least 25 seconds per mile off when it comes time to run race-pace. My current 5K PR is 23:33, which is a 7:34 pace. I banged that out last June without any specific 5K training, so I feel I've set myself up for an even faster time.

That 23:33 finish would have placed me 21st in last year's version of the race I'm running on Saturday. So my goal is to crack the top 20. At the end of all my recent runs, I've fired myself up to bring it home by envisioning myself dueling with another runner. I tell myself she's the 19th-place finisher and I'm currently in the 20th slot. I turn on the juice to pass her in the final meters of the race. Here's to hoping I do as well in the real race as I do in the imaginary one I keep playing out in my head!

And, hey, if you happen to be at the race in Hartford this weekend, look for me and say hi. I'll be sporting a SkirtSports black running skirt, light green Nike running tank, and brand-new Nike LunarGlide+ kicks.

-SBS

That Itchy-Twitchy Feeling

2009-06-28T14:34:00.000-07:00

Addicted to exercise: Am I or not?

It's a question I've frequently asked myself over the last 15 years or so, sometimes more often than others. Especially when I didn't miss a day of exercise (bare minimum: a 30-minute sweat session) for more than six years straight. Yup, more than 2,000 days with no rest for the weary. (If this sounds vaguely familiar, you might have read one of my two articles about The Streak, as I called it--one in Conde Nast Sports for Women, and one post-Streak in HERS.) Even when I was in the midst of The Streak, I was convinced I wasn't addicted, just perhaps a wee bit obsessed. I finally broke The Streak on a three-month, around-the-world trip Jack and I took as newlyweds in 2000. I figured it was more important to return home with a husband rather than a high VO2 max or buff biceps.

While training for my last two marathons, I did fine on the rest days built into my training schedule. I didn't get antsy--not in my body, but more importantly, not in my brain. No nagging voice telling me I'd become a sloth if I didn't exercise for a day. So I hadn't had an "addicted or not?" thought in a while, but then today I started wondering again. Last night, I flew cross-country--three flights, ugh!--with the three kids and Jack to see my family in Connecticut. My plan all along was to do a Sunday-type workout on Saturday (I did a repeat of last Sunday's run up Terwilliger then swam for 50 minutes), then take today as a rest day.

Except when we arrived at my parents' house, despite feeling grotty from fractured, plane-seat sleep, I immediately started thinking I should go for a run. To shake the legs out, get the blood flowing, enjoy the fresh air, soak in the excitement of being on vacation with my family...and not sink into slothdom. Even as I type this, I'm still contemplating going on that run--and debating what qualifies as an exercise "addiction." What's the dividing line between dedication and disease?

I'd love to hear from you, especially as I'm writing about the topic this week for Dimity's and my book. Thanks.

-SBS

Still Mixing Things Up

2009-06-22T15:24:00.001-07:00

Nothing major to report this week--no naked bums on bike seats or PRs set. I continue being a cross-training maven, even slicing-and-dicing my Sunday long run. I only have a week left on my membership at my gym with a pool (I wasn't using it enough to justify the nearly $100/month fee), and I'm trying to squeeze in as many delicious swims as possible. So I drove to my club an hour before it opened, parked, and ran from there up Portland's most notorious hills--Terwilliger. It's not killer steep, just continuous for almost two miles.

I thought back on the first time I ever ran it, with my friend Ellison. It had seemed daunting, making my lungs want to jump out of my chest onto the pavement. Yet yesterday I felt like I was on a giant conveyer belt, effortlessly moving up the hill. The only hitch in my giddy-up was a lone car coming upon me while I was copping a modified squat (pee only!) in my running skirt. I just laughed at myself and kept running.

I trotted back to my then-open gym and hopped in the pool, getting in about a mile before the Masters group took over the lanes. I topped off my workout with an impromptu trip to Trader Joe's so I could cook a real meal for my man on Father's Day. I was home by 10 a.m., feeling a delicious sense of accomplishment.

-SBS

Naked Cycling in Portland: The Photos

2009-06-16T11:13:00.000-07:00

Naomi asked for them...

Like No Bike Ride I've Ever Been On!

2009-06-14T13:43:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I should preface this post by pointing out that the unofficial motto of the city I live in is, “Keep Portland Weird.”

On that note, let me tell you about the bicycle parade I took Phoebe and John to on Saturday (Daphne was home with her dad, taking a spontaneous nap). Given Portland’s strong and unique bike culture, it promised to be a raucous time. Lynn Jennings, my coach and friend, met us there. (That’s LJ, her dog, and the kids sitting on curb.) The parade was all I had hoped it would be—and more. Unicyclists; fancy-dressed women on hand-built tall bikes; families in Dutch Bakfiets cargo bikes; a guy in a cowboy hat on an enormous homemade Big Wheel with his daughter on a real one alongside him; a guy dressed as Gandhi pedaling along. A drum corps. And then, for the only-in-Portland finale, a brigade of naked cyclists. In broad daylight, met by wild cheers.

Agog, LJ and I cracked up and started snapping pics on our iPhones. It was way better spectating than my marathon, that’s for sure! All high spirits and pure fun. We were busting a gut laughing. Yet there sat Phoebe and John, acting no more surprised or shocked than they had been when the giant Big Wheel rode by. Phoebe finally asked me what was so funny, as she has asked me several times since. Seems my kids are totally unflapped by the sight of naked adults riding bikes.

It got me thinking: It’s not unlike how unfazed my kids are to the sight of their mother leaving for a 12-mile run—in a skirt—as they head off to Mass with their dad. Or the repeat scenario of their mom walking in the back door, drenched in sweat after an early morning run.

To kids these days—at least on the Left Coast--it’s just all part of this wacky, active world we live in.

-SBS
If folks ask, I’ll post a few parade photos in a separate post.

Cross-Training Maven

2009-06-08T12:13:00.000-07:00

Training for my recent marathon, I adored the single-minded focus of my athletic life: running. Sure, I rowed on occasion, but it was during my training for Eugene Marathon that I decided once and for all I was a runner who rows, not a rower who runs. There was only one day during my entire three months of training that I felt burnt out on running. Otherwise, I woke up with fresh legs and a keen sense of excitement.

While I still passionately love running, lately I’ve been Queen of Cross-Training. My new obsession: concocting multi-sport workouts. My own personal duathlons and triathlons. I look forward to Tuesdays, the morning I ride my bike to the boathouse (few things I love better than riding my bike on nearly deserted streets, as they are at 5:00 a.m.!), row in an 8-woman boat, run a 3-mile river loop, then bike home. More than two hours of exercise. This week I’m adding in a Yoga for Runners class in the evening, as flexibility is woefully lacking in my exercise mix.

Last Thursday I cycled to my health club, did a challenging workout on the rowing machine, swam a mile, then biked home. My arms felt deliciously noodle-y for the first few hundred yards in the pool after cranking on the erg. On Saturday, I went on a 75-minute ride, then hit the weight room for 45 minutes. I would have stayed longer, but mothering-duties called.

I’m not neglecting running—on Friday, I hit the track for the first time since my May 3 marathon and yesterday, for the first time, I tackled the toughest climb on Portland’s eastside during my 10.5-mile run. I have my sights set securely on PRing in my July 11 5K, but for now I’m hopscotching my way there, jumping from one form of exercise to another.

-SBS

I Finally Got My Legs Back

2009-06-03T10:40:00.000-07:00

Running experts and research types say it takes roughly a month to recover from a marathon. On Hal Higdon’s site, for example, he says “it takes a minimum of two to three weeks for the body to recover from the strain of running 26 miles 385 yards. Return too quickly and you increase your risk of injury. Some experts suggest resting one day for every mile you ran in the marathon, thus 26 days of no hard running or racing!”

I read that statement about four days after my May 3rd marathon. Even though my gait was still hobbled, and my legs felt completely wrung out, I thought there was no way I’d feel tapped out for a month!

The only time I was more wrong was when I thought my then-two-year-old twins didn’t need to wear diapers during naptime anymore.

Don’t misunderstand me: I have certainly been running in the 30 days since my race. When I was out in Connecticut for my high school reunion in mid-May, for example, I ran every day of my 5-day visit, racking up about 26 or 27 miles. But I didn’t feel like my pre-marathon self, and my legs felt heavy. Other than the leaden legs, I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. I just felt “off.” I was starting to get a bit concerned, as I have a 5K on July 11 and a half-marathon on July 26. I told myself I just needed to continue taking it somewhat easy (no track or speed workouts) and to fuel well.

And, sure enough, almost a month to the day, my giddy-up returned. On Saturday, I felt moved to kick out two 8-minute miles on a 5-miler. The next morning, on my 10-mile run, I really felt like myself again. My legs felt fresh, but more importantly, there was an intangible “vibe” I felt that told me all was right again. At the risk of coming across as patchouli-and-chimes, I felt like my aura had been slightly off, but on that run, it was back to its bright, vibrant color.

Now I’m excited to rev up my speed—and shine my aura--at the track tomorrow.

-SBS

Drawing is a portrait of me by 3-year-old Daphne.

Next Up on the Race Calendar

2009-05-26T21:10:00.000-07:00

Like after a bad break up or a job layoff, my friends are already asking me, “What’s next?” as in, “What’s your next race since the marathon is over for?” Goodness, folks, let the dust settle first!! I’m still sorta pining over my last boyfriend, uh, I mean, the training for Eugene Marathon. Ha, ha.

No, it’s a natural question, and I’ve already shifted my sights forward. Next up is a rowing race (well, hopefully two—a heat and a final!) at the end of June with my team, Portland Women’s Rowing. But as even my rowing buddies joke, that won’t be overtaxing physically since the marathon was more than 42 times longer than the 1,000-meter rowing race. At this point, for me, rowing is more about technique than upping my fitness.

As for running, I have a few specific races slotted into my summer schedule—the Lacamas Half Marathon at the end of July, and the not-to-be-missed Hood to Coast relay a month later with my beloved all-women’s team, See Jane Run.

I really want to parlay some of my newfound speed into a few more personal bests this year. I’m looking for a flat, not-too-crowded 5K race, in particular. I’m seriously contemplating racing the Red Dress Run for Women when I’m out visiting my family in Connecticut this summer. I’m hoping to talk a good friend from high school into doing it with me (yes, Gioia, that means you!), and I’m especially keen on it now that I just discovered they have an Athena division. Heck, maybe I’ll bring home a PR and a top-3 slot!

Yeah, I like the ring of that as my answer next time someone queries, “What next?”

-SBS

Who Cares about Time?

2009-05-21T16:08:00.000-07:00

My 25-year high school reunion was last weekend. All spring, I'd been thinking about how perfect the timing of it was--just two weeks after my marathon. Call me shallow, but I was all excited to brag about my sub-4:00 time and flaunt my running-toned legs. Come on, it had been 25 years since we trotted around in kilts and most everyone had had kids, so I was banking on some classmates being out of shape or even downright dumpy.

Denied! All the women who showed were incredibly trim and perky looking. All natural, yet all gorgeous. And we were so excited to see each other that we got caught up in myriad conversations, rarely veering toward running. A few former classmates who are also Facebook friends knew about my marathon. But instead of asking about my finish time, they merely marveled that my knees still allow me to put in any sort of miles.

It got me thinking: Marathon bragging rights don't extend very far. Facebook and this blog, natch, and some running buddies, sure, but otherwise numbers don't mean much to folks. And, since reunion, I've realized I'm okay with that. Dimity, my fellow marathon mom, ribs me about being a braggart, so this admission may come as a surprise to her.

But I've come to realize that my marathon PR is a nugget I hold closer than I expected I would. It's like a gem I keep tucked into that useless, tiny fifth pocket on a pair of jeans. In the last few weeks, I've fished out my 3:52:37 time, polished it a little, and marveled at it, but usually it doesn't make a blip on my radar. Who knows, maybe I need some perspective, but for now I'm not going to force it.

-SBS

Lynn Jennings: A Coach’s Story

2009-05-13T18:58:00.000-07:00

As you know, for my recent marathon, I was incredibly fortunate to be coached by Lynn Jennings, 1992 Olympic bronze medalist in 10,000 meters and 3-time winner of World Cross Country Championships. During training, we decided she would write a blog post after the race. Here it is:

Sunday long runs. Tuesday track sessions. Friday tempo runs. Easy days. Ice baths. Meticulous attention paid to health and well-being. How did I find myself back on this sort of schedule? Only this time, it wasn’t all about me. It was all about Sarah Bowen Shea.

For too many years to count, I was a world-class professional middle-distance runner. My life consisted of training to race and racing to win. I traveled the world racking up victories and personal bests, medals, and honors. If it didn’t have to do with training, racing, eating, sleeping, or traveling, I didn’t do it. I was a hard-nosed competitor who cut no corners and gave nothing away.

For the last four months, I have been Sarah’s coach. Her journey to my doorstep started with her disappointing race in the Nike Women’s Marathon in October 2007. I had invited her to call me after she crossed the line. Her disappointment and ragged emotions kept her from doing it. She wanted to call but she was afraid of crying on the phone.

A month or so after the race, I invited her to sit in my cozy kitchen and talk about what went right and what went wrong with her race. As I listened carefully, I was also thinking, “I could coach her to break 4 hours.” I said nothing. If she wanted me to coach her, she would have to ask me herself.

Months later, Sarah did exactly that. We had a few dinner meetings where she talked, I listened, and then I laid out her carefully plotted training schedule. There were only a few non-negotiables: She had to be honest when I asked for feedback regarding fatigue and the state of her body. She wouldn’t impress me by doing more than the workout assigned. She could ask questions about what we were doing at any time.

The weeks unfolded. Sarah easily accepted the higher mileage, the exacting and rigorous track and tempo work, the weekly ice baths after her ever-lengthening long runs.

It took me awhile to get used to her pace ranges. I was used to racing at 5:00/mile pace and faster. My track work was done at sub-5:00/mile pace. My easy runs were in the 6:00-7:00 pace range. At first I was at sea: 9:15/mile easy runs? 8:20/mile tempo runs? It was foreign territory. But the truth is clear: different levels of physical ability have no bearing on the important intangibles. Intangibles upon which I built a long and successful career.

Everything I hold dear, she exhibited. Sarah personified the hard-as-diamond qualities that point an athlete toward success.

She completed every single assignment with passion, vigor, discipline, and dedication. She was in control and professional. She was completely coachable. I had to laugh when she texted me from Boston to ask if it was okay if she ran 6 miles on the Boston Marathon course rather than the 5 I had on the schedule.

I designed workouts for her that were challenging and arduous. The bar was high enough that she would have to work to achieve it. My goal was that she would finish each assignment not quite believing she had actually done it. Each session was designed to nudge her fitness forward and leave her feeling confident.

By the time race day arrived, it was clear that barring injury or untimely illness, Sarah had done all the work to achieve a sub-4 hour marathon. I told her that it was up to her to determine by how much she broke the barrier.

I was all over the course on race day. Zipping from point to point on my bike, I was reassured to see her efficient marathon shuffle and relaxed upper body. She was holding steady and looking good. The last time I saw her before heading to the finish line was at mile 24. She was moving cleanly and easily. She was continuing to pass other runners. Only a short time later, it was a shock to see her crawling down the home stretch, her face a rictus of pain. I was stunned to realize she had left every ounce of herself out on the course. She careened across the line safely under 4 hours.

As a species, we should never underestimate our low tolerance for discomfort. Sarah’s months of physical training taught her how to focus her intellect and body on the task at hand. I was impressed with her willingness to bump up against extreme depletion and not back away from the raw pain of it. Her tears of relief (and disappointment) at the finish were a testament to how large this goal had become to her.

Today, thoroughly ensconced in retirement, I am still ruled by goals of my own. It’s not about running 5:00/mile tempo runs anymore. It’s about how to achieve the trifecta of running, rowing, and cycling in a single day. I run on Portland’s Forest Park trails with my athletic Australian cattle dog mix, Towhee. I row my sleek blue Hudson shell on the Willamette River, and I ride my fast Bianchi in the West Hills. Every summer I live in Vermont at the Craftsbury Outdoor Center. I exchange coaching at the running camps for several weeks of rowing camp attendance. I just might be the happiest (and most active) retired professional athlete around.

-LJ

Finally I Emptied the Tank

2009-05-12T14:05:00.000-07:00

In almost every race I run or row, my goal is to Empty The Tank. I tell myself that as I’m waiting on the start line, and I often repeat it mantra-like during the race. Even my husband, Jack, who has only seen me run one race, knows to yell it out to me from the riverbank as my crew rows past him or to say it to me as I head off to a running race.

To me, there’s always been something mythical about the idea of leaving everything out of the race course. Of crossing the line in an utterly depleted state. It has been my goal for as long as I can remember, even in collegiate rowing races.

Yet until the Eugene Marathon, my needle never touched “E.” It had gotten close, running on fumes, as it were. But as hard as I tried to push myself to the brink, I’d inevitably pulled back, always crossing the line with more in me. Sometimes just a few drops, but something left just the same. I always had to admit to myself that I could have put the accelerator down harder than I had. But not at Eugene. Nope, not at Eugene.

After starting out at a smart, ease-into-it-yet-still-speedy pace for the first three or so miles, I had my foot on the gas the entire marathon. The going got tough at about mile 24.5 or 25, but I had more in me to give. Then, steps before the 26-mile marker, my tank hit empty. I felt such a dramatic shift in my energy level and my posture, I swear I heard an audible “click.” Ironically enough, it was almost exactly when my friend Ellison, nicknamed “E,” had run past me, and then turned back to urge me to keep up with her. I had the will and the drive, but no fuel.

Later, as we started our drive back to Portland, LJ and I talked about those final 365+ yards of the race, as I continued to jog/shuffle toward the finish line, feeling the back half of my body crumple toward the ground like a folded paper accordion. She bolstered me, saying it takes a talented athlete to parcel out her energy so perfectly to have nothing left at the end. She asked me how I was able to do it this time, knowing I had always wanted to do Empty The Tank.

A fresh torrent of tears, a mixture of happy and proud ones, poured forth and my voice cracked as I choked out a reply. I told LJ that instead of retreating from the pain, I had continued moving toward it.

In the days since my marathon, the thought I keep coming back to is how amazing it felt to finally Empty The Tank—and how proud I am of myself for doing it.

-SBS

Allow Me a Mother's Day Moment to Brag

2009-05-10T15:59:00.000-07:00

I plan on writing more thoughts about my marathon on here later this week, but for now please allow me to brag about my sporty older daughter. Yesterday was a banner day for Phoebe. First we swam at my health club. I did laps while she played in the "training" pool. Then we headed over to the Doggie Dash, a 1.5-mile fun run that benefits the Oregon Humane Society. Phoebe's wonderful teacher from last year (and marathon cheerleader), Joanne, encourages her kids to do it.

I was there to help keep track of the yellow-bandanad kids as they dodged dogs and weaved among walkers. Before the start, I gave a quick talk to Phoebe's good friend Liza, a zealous runner, about not running too fast as it wasn't that kind of race. Turns out I was talking to the wrong girl. Phoebe took off like the rest of the kids, but I soon lost track of her in the crowd. About halfway, Joanne told me Phoebe was with the assistant teacher, Kelly. I had no clue where Kelly was so that didn't tell me anything, but I wasn't concerned. With about 400 meters left in the race, I spotted Phoebe at the head of the pack, and I had to turn on the gas to catch up with her. I realized she was intent on coming in first. No sense in reeling her in at that point, so I cut a corner to get a photo of her crossing the finish line. She finished flushed and proud. I was stunned she had come in first out of her chums and, I'll admit it, I was proud of her because she'd poured her heart into the run.

As we drove to the third event in her unusual triathlon--her final spring league soccer game--I asked her if she'd planned on running so fast. She responded very intently, "I didn't have a plan, Mom."

Phoebe was on the attack at her soccer game, as usual, once again scoring five goals. While I was incredibly proud of her prowess, what I loved best was the exuberant arm pumps and jumps she did every time she scored. All in all, the day was a great Mother's Day gift.

-SBS

Marathon PR

2009-05-04T13:47:00.000-07:00

Yup, I did it: I broke 4:00 in a big way yesterday, crossing the line in 3:52:37. That is more than 8 minutes faster than my previous best. Yet, idiotically, I was disappointed and almost heartbroken after finishing because I hadn’t run a Boston-qualifying time. (Don’t worry: Already, little more than 24 hours later, I’ve already knocked those feelings out of my pea-brain!)

Let me back up. I ran a stellar race yesterday. I didn’t let nerves or emotions overwhelm me. I ran a relatively consistent pace, going out slowly for the first few miles as I knew I needed to do to stay strong for the distance. My playlist was perfect, boosting me up when I needed it and keeping me steady when that was called for. The weather, rainy at first then mostly overcast, ended up being great running conditions. (Although I got a massive blister on my right big toe, a first for me. It was so big, on the drive back to Portland, LJ and I debated naming it!)

And I felt strong for the vast majority of the race. Literally, I felt wonderful, yelling out, “I feel fantastic!” to my good friends Amber and Angella who were cheering me on near mile 8.5. I was comfortably running mile after mile at a pace between 8:32-8:47. It felt easy, natural, fluid not forced—just like Lynn had assured me it would. I continued to feel stellar until about mile 15, then I shifted my pace to be consistently faster as LJ and I had discussed I should if I was feeling up for it. (“Take the chance, Sarah!” she yelled out to me at one point.). I felt challenged but still very good until about mile 22. LJ was at various spots, handing drinks and energy gels and chews to me, and she commented later how I was never running with the same pack. I was picking off runners throughout almost the entire race. I felt good from about mile 22 to 25 and decent until almost mile 26.

Then my body went into complete shut-down mode.

Even as it was happening, I marveled at it. One of my mantras is, “Empty the tank”; it’s a goal I've had countless times in races. But until yesterday, I’d never really achieved that condition. Yesterday I did. It was like the electricity had been cut, and all systems were powering down. As you can see from one of the photos above, I had a distinct feeling of crumpling—like the backside of my body was an accordion folding onto itself. I continued shuffling toward the finish line, never walking, but I nearly collapsed immediately after the finish line. Thankfully my dear friend Ellison had finished less than a minute ahead of me so she was there for me to lean on as I hobbled into the finishers’ area.

Again, let me rewind: As I was approaching the finish line, I could make out one face in the crowd--Joanne, Phoebe’s teacher from last year. Joanne, a tall, attractive brunette, was jumping up and down with tears were streaming down her face. Even through my systems-failure haze, I could distinctly hear her shouting, “Sarah, you did it! You did it!” She was in the same ecstatic state when we met up outside the finishers’ area about 20 minutes later, as I teetered out with ice bags Saran Wrapped to my quadriceps. All I could think was, “No, Joanne, I didn’t. I didn’t qualify for Boston and I feel awful.”

But within hours I realized how right Joanne was—and how I wish, even now, that I could have shared in her unbridled elation. My training with LJ had been going so well for so many weeks that she and I had come to accept that I would meet my longtime goal to break 4:00. As LJ told me after one of our runs, “You’re going to break 4 hours. It’s up to you to determine by how much.” Thus, I realize now, I’d shifted my A-goal to running a BQ time, assuming the sub-4:00 was a done deal.

So today I’m trying to capture some of Joanne’s joy, looking back at a top-secret email I sent LJ way back in November, when we were just in the planning stages for this marathon. I’d written her a span of possible finish times and how I’d feel if I ran them. Here’s a snippet:
"3:51: Unbelievably Stoked, All Cylinders Firing

3:53: Wowee-Wow-Wow"

Seeing that I landed smack-dab in the middle of those two times, I’m doing my best to feel a mixture of “unbelievably stoked” and “wowee-wow-wow.” I’m getting there.

-SBS

Personal Best Playlist

2009-05-01T15:43:00.000-07:00

This is what will be firing me along on Sunday during my marathon (please channel positive energy toward me in Eugene, Oregon, from 7 a.m. to about 10:45-ish Pacific!). The mix starts out mellow (some might say "cheesy") as I'm intent on starting out slower than marathon pace. And, yes, I'm not afraid to show that I love songs from the High School Musical trilogy! (And I've been on a Dixie Chicks kick this week...)

Thanks for your support, folks!

SBS "Personal Best" Playlist

When You’re Falling by Afro Celt Sound System
Can I Have This Dance by cast of HSM
Everyday by cast of HSM
Freeway by Aimee Mann

Baby Hold On by Dixie Chicks
Flashdance What a Feeling by Irene Cara
Right Here (Departed) by Brandy
Crazy in Love by Beyonce
Give Me a Beat by Girl Talk
Where Is the Love? By Black Eyed Peas
Just Fine by Mary J. Blige
(You Drive Me) Crazy (The Stop Remix!) by Britney Spears
Pump It by Black Eyed Peas
Believe by Cher
Forever by Chris Brown
Love Sex Magic by Ciara
Under Pressure by David Bowie and Queen
Everybody Knows by Dixie Chicks
Sense of Purpose by Third World
Right Round by Flo Rida
Hurt by Johnny Cash
SexyBack by Justin Timberlake
Hands in the Air by Girl Talk
Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz
We’re All in This Together by cast of HSM
Gimme More by Britney Spears
Dare by Gorillaz
Umbrella (Travis Barker Remix) by Rihanna
LoveStoned by Justin Timberlake
Hard Sun by Eddie Vedder
Silent House by Dixie Chicks
4 Minutes by Madonna
Here I Go Again by Whitesnake
Disturbia by Rihanna
Kiss by Prince
The Rising by Bruce Springsteen
My Love (featuring T.I.) by Justin Timberlake
All These Things That I’ve Done by The Killers
Wake Up Call by Maroon 5
Live Your Life by T.I.
I’m Shakin by Rooney
Stronger by Britney Spears
Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall
Heart of a Champion by Nelly & Lincoln University Vocal Ensemble
Womanizer by Britney Spears
Pon de Replay by Rihanna
I Run for Life by Melissa Etheridge

Reason to Believe by Dashboard Confessions (thanks, Naomi!)
Harder to Breathe by Maroon 5
I Am Superman by R.E.M.

Dig In by Lenny Kravitz
Mo Money Mo Problems Mase, Puff Daddy &….
Makes Me Wonder by Maroon 5
Lovely, Love My Family by The Roots
Lose Yourself by Eminem

Lady by Lenny Kravitz
Apologize (Workout Mix) by Power Music Workout
Disturbia by Rihanna (yes, again!)
SOS by Rihanna
List of Demands by Saul Williams
Dead and Gone by T.I.
The Way I Are by Timbaland
Mr. Brightside by The Killers
Hey Ya! OutKast
Paradise City Guns N’ Roses
I Will Survive by Cake
Closer by Nine Inch Nails
Complicated by Avril Lavigne

Poster Child for Self-Confidence

2009-04-27T11:11:00.000-07:00

Needless to say, my focus this week is laser-beamed on Sunday's marathon. When I feel tired, I lay down. I quaff electrolyte-laden drinks before I get thirsty, and eat carbs for breakie, lunch, and dinner. I've put a moratorium on carrying the twins around. I'm skipping book group in favor of lounging. Yes, I'm treating my body right. But my main emphasis this week is my mind. I'm intent on getting it as honed and fit as my body is.

As my coach, Lynn Jennings, emailed me yesterday: "Drill into your brain the truth and reality of all that work you have done. You are ready to go and your mantra is 'I've done the work and when I stand on the starting line, I'm ready to demonstrate it!'

Remember: you have to believe it fully and unreservedly. No doubts."

But finessing the brain isn't as straight-forward as honing the body. There are no mile-repeats or tempo runs for the mind. Instead, I'm going back over my training calendar to remind myself of all the hard work I have done the last three months--and how I met or exceeded the goals LJ set for me. I'm also going to re-read my blog posts since February 1.

And I'm going to spend a good bit of time meditating on the poster Phoebe and I made (photo, above). Let the record show: I'm not a scrapbooker or a memento-gal, but the idea for the "word-wall" came to me in a flash of inspiration so I acted upon the idea. I cut out phrases from magazines, mostly Runner's World, and then Phoebe and I glued them onto the posterboard. If I can be a braggart mom for a sec: I especially love the creativity art-centric, new-reader Phoebe brought to it, doing things like placing "Faster" under "Get Faster." (We laughed together every time she'd point out a clever word-cluster, with her saying, "Get it, Mom? Get it?") After she and I were done, I went back and glued on an illustration of a small brown bird (to the left of "Test Yourself") as an homage to Phoebe, which is also a type of small, brown songbird.

Slowly--but surely--I'm getting poised to demonstrate what I'm capable of on May 3.

-SBS

Who I Am Running For

2009-04-22T19:49:00.000-07:00

The finish of the 2009 Boston Marathon was an amazing thing to watch. Well, at least that’s what all my running buddies tell me. You see, I missed the second half of the elite race because I was driving carpool. Sigh. But even with only reading the results—and later watching YouTube clips---my heart went out to Kara Goucher all day on Monday. Such guts, grit, and talent. Not to mention her adorable smile.

The already oft-quoted line in her post-race interview that resonated with me was her saying she wanted to win, “for everyone that supported me and for my coach, my husband, my family, and for Nike…I just wanted to be the one that won for everybody.”

It got me thinking about all the people I’m running my marathon for a week from Sunday. For Lynn Jennings, my savvy, ever-attentive, caring coach; for Phoebe, my 7-year-old daughter who will be on the sidelines cheering for me; for my mom, a loving Catholic who is already praying for me and my marathon aspirations; for a certain editor, who promises me a plum feature assignment if I break 4 hours; for my massage therapist, who is giving me a huge discount on a day-after massage if I meet my time-goal; for you blog-readers who have followed my journey with such an outpouring of encouragement; and countless others.

But mulling over Kara’s words, I realized the person I am really running this marathon for is me. So that I can prove to myself I’m as fit as my times at the track tell me I am—and that I have the inner fortitude to call forth the resources when the going gets tough. To shift into a higher gear when my brain is telling me to just cruise.

I want to win for me.

-SBS

Go, Kara, Go!!

2009-04-17T14:40:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to give a shout-out of encouragement to all Boston Marathoners, from Kara on back. I had the pleasure of being in sunny, lovely Boston for the past three days, and I even got to run the last 6.2 miles of the course, including Heartbreak Hill. (I found it more like a long incline than a true hill, but my legs were fresh. No telling what my opinion would be facing it after 20 miles...) Even though I lived in Boston for four years in mid-1990s and watched the race every year, it seemed more exciting this time, maybe because I was a marathon-virgin back then.

Good luck to all, and take a look at this write-up of Kara's pre-race interview. The line that made my eyes a bit watery was this one, "I'm ready to run the race of my life." I intend to tell myself that on May 3 down in Eugene.

Go, Kara! Go, Boston Marathoners!

-SBS

photo above is one I took of Kara Goucher poster in Niketown window on Boston's Newbury Street.

Pace Groups: Pros and Cons?

2009-04-13T15:41:00.000-07:00

Lynn and I are debating whether or not I should run with a pace group or not at Eugene. I hear good things about the pace-group leaders at that marathon, but we're still wondering if it's the smart move to go with one or not.

Our main sticking point: On my long runs and tempo runs, I've consistently found that it takes me a while to get warmed up. Early on, I have to really fight to drop down to tempo pace, but after my muscles get lubed, I'm good to go.

Our plan, hashed out over my training run on the course of the Eugene Marathon two weeks ago, was that I start out slower than marathon pace but build up to it by about mile 3. If I ran with a pace group, however, we don't think I'd have that option.

One running buddy told me she thinks adrenaline will carry me through the first few miles, but I'm concerned about going out too fast. As LJ said to me on the Eugene run, "I want to see you going sub-MP at miles 17 and 18, not miles 2 and 3."

So, dear running-readers, I'm looking for insight about experiences you've had with marathon pace groups. I'd love to hear from you--thanks!

-SBS

And So Begins the Taper

2009-04-12T17:01:00.000-07:00

Saturday’s 18-mile run went okay. It wasn’t great, and it wasn’t horrible. The plan was for me to warm up for 3 miles en route to Lynn’s house, then start running marathon pace for the rest of the run, including the 14 miles after meeting up with LJ. (Her house is 4 miles from mine.) Once again, we had deemed marathon pace (MP) at 8:45-minute miles or better.

I idiotically forgot to press “start” on my Garmin when LJ and I started running together, so I missed out on calculating the first 3.5 or so miles of the run. But I’d glanced at the pace numerous times and we were at least 15 seconds under MP for that first bit. But it became increasingly hard to keep my pace at 8:45 or faster. About 4.5 miles into our run together, I told LJ, “The intent is there, but the speed isn’t.” It is hard to describe how I felt: The week before, in Eugene, my quads had felt heavy and dense, but not this weekend. I felt like I lacked a spark, or 5th gear.

At this point, if I’d been by myself, I probably would have spiraled into self-doubt, anxiety, and disappointment. But LJ’s response to my comment put my head in exactly the right place. She calmly said it was natural to feel a bit sluggish, reminding me of all the hard work I’d been doing lately. All the miles, and all the track work. It made perfect sense, and I was diverted from the pity-party I’d been heading toward.

Instead, LJ just ran about a step ahead of me for much of the rest of our run. We were still running together, but I felt a slight “tug” to keep up with her. I kept my foot on my own accelerator as best I could, nudging our pace back to 8:45. Conversation didn’t flow as freely as it has on all our other runs—at one point I blurted out, “You need to tell me a story,” and LJ complied.

All conversation ceased for the final two miles, with me sputtering out rudimentary directions like, “right at light” or “go straight.” With about 1.5 miles left to go, LJ asked me (the Garmin-wearing pace-keeper) how fast we were going. I said 8:59. She said, “let’s try to get it to 8:40 for rest of the way.” It was the challenge I needed. It took me about 100 yards, but then we were safely under 8:40…and dropping the rest of the way home. Two long blocks from my house we were sub-8:00, and for final 150 yards we were about about 7:20 pace. Taking into account our un-Garmined miles at the start of MP, we averaged right around 8:45.

After we stopped and I regained my breath, Lynn said, “That proves it—time to start your taper.”

-SBS

Final Long Run

2009-04-10T12:15:00.000-07:00

My last long run for Eugene Marathon is tomorrow—woo-hoo!! I can’t believe the day has come. Sometimes it seems I’ve been training for this race for a long time, but mostly it feels like I just started. My coach, Lynn, and I often joke how fast time flies, with the punchline being that we’ll be collecting Social Security by Friday. (Trust me: It cracks us up during our recovery laps around the track!)

Up until yesterday, LJ was having me run 18 miles tomorrow, then 20 miles the following weekend. Given how fantastic the rest of her coaching has been, I wasn’t going to question LJ on her decision to have me run so far just two weeks before the marathon. But then some concerns started poking my brain, partly from email exchanges with my good friend Ellison, who is also running Eugene. She and another marathon-veteran friend, Monica, are following Pete Pfitzinger’s training plan, as they always do. On their schedule, they run 22 this weekend, then drop back to 16 miles and 12 miles the next two weekends, respectively.

For days I tried mustering the gumption to ask LJ about her rationale for an additional long run. Finally I crafted an email in my head and sat down at my computer to write it to LJ. But before I could click, “compose,” an email from her popped up. Here’s an edited excerpt:

“I am sitting here doing some reading about tapering for a marathon and perusing the calendar for our next three weeks. We are running the 18 on Saturday with 15 embedded race pace miles. I’m thinking about long runs after this and wondering your thoughts on long run ideas for next Sunday, the 19th. Whatever we do that day, it is exactly two weeks until race day.

“I have all sorts of good creative ideas during taper but am curious what you think you would like for that last Sunday long/long’ish run?”

My God, the woman is not only a three-time Olympian, but also a mind reader!!

I immediately called her to laugh and discuss. Now our new joke is that she must have implanted a chip in my brain!

-SBS

Dress Rehearsal for Eugene Marathon

2009-04-06T16:52:00.000-07:00

When my coach, Olympian Lynn Jennings, and I first went over her marathon training plan for me, she told me: “Long runs are a dress rehearsal for success at the marathon.”

Well, we had a major dress rehearsal on Saturday, and it left me slightly worried. Lynn and I roadtripped down to Eugene, Oregon, where my marathon is on May 3. The plan was to run the first 22 miles of the race to make sure there were no hidden surprises. We were especially curious to see the “hill” at mile 5. Almost everyone I know who has run the Eugene Marathon calls it the “hill,” complete with quotation marks, because it’s not really all that serious of an incline. The rise just stands out in comparison to the rest of the pancake-flat course.

We had schemed about the trip all week, down to gaining access to a friend’s in-law’s house so I could do my obligatory ice-bath soak before our two-hour drive to Portland. The one missing piece of the puzzle the precise, turn-for-turn marathon route. LJ had downloaded the course map off the race website, but it didn’t list every street name and the scale of the map was miniscule. We were left guessing details for the first part of our run. We thought we were on the right track, but around mile 3 we hit the first of three fairly significant hills. No quotation marks—these were actual huffing-and-puffing climbs.

Finally, a little over four miles into our run, we realized we were off course. We hooked back up with the course about six miles into our run, just past mile 7 of the marathon. We lamented we had missed a big part of what we’d come down to see—the infamous “hill”—but knew we couldn’t loop back to run it given where we’d parked LJ’s truck. We continued on the course, by this time having sped up to marathon pace—8:45 or faster.

We had about 9 miles under our shoes when we looped past the starting area, famed Hayward Field, where LJ had locked her bike. She hopped on her bike and continued cycling alongside of me for the rest of the run. I ran 13 miles at marathon pace, averaging 8:37. Yes, it’s a pace that would secure me in the sub-4-hour zone, which is my overarching goal. Yet it didn’t feel as easy and as natural as the last few embedded marathon pace pieces I’ve done. Like last Sunday, I did 10 miles at 8:32 pace in an 18-mile run, and I felt like a million bucks when I got home.

But I have been trying to assuage my concern by reminding myself that I racked up 71.5 miles (!!) last week, far more than I’ve ever run in seven days. And a lot of those were hard miles, like last Tuesday’s track workout. Also, as Lynn pointed out, it can be tough to run through an unfamiliar place. (We were fishing our way around a lot because of the imprecise map, plus it was only my second time to Eugene.)

Maybe, when I face facts, the reason the 22.2-mile run felt challenging is because it is. It’s tough running a long distance. Come race day, I’m just going to have to trust in my training—our dress rehearsals--and in myself.

-SBS

Photo above is of LJ (right) and me post-run.

Banner Workout

2009-03-31T12:27:00.001-07:00

This morning, I had my best workout. Ever. Ever. Ever. It was incredible. I'll save the superlatives and just lay it out for you with a few editorial comments interjected. Oh, and for the record: Lynn designed it, and only told me pieces of it on a need-to-know basis...as in, the second round of track workouts were a surprise until after we finished road run. If I'd known what awaited me, not sure I would have gotten out of bed today...

Here goes:
2.5-mile warm-up from my house to track

Ran 4 X 1200 (three laps each) with one lap recovery jog in between each one (times: 5:43; 5:32; 5:42; 5:34)

Left track. Ran 5 miles at tempo pace (8:32/mile) on the roads. (This was supposed to be at marathon pace, with Lynn's parting words as we left the track, "We have to keep it to 8:45. No faster!" Uh, yeah, famous last words...by about mile 4 pace became a running joke--pun intended.)

Returned to track and ran two timed miles with one lap recovery jog between each one. Lynn's mantra before we started these miles was T-shirt-worthy: "Anything under 8:00 is great." We then proceeded to run: 7:31 for the first one, 7:14 for the second one. (With Lynn noting after the first timed mile, "You realize you ran that in the exact same time as the timed mile you did about two years ago before Nike Women's Marathon, right?" Oh, you mean the one that made my arm tingle and I was pushing full-bore?!?! And now it's something I can crank out after all that work...and then do another, faster timed mile?)

Total length of run outing, including various slower, cool-down 400s: 15 miles.

Yeah, I'm a proud peacock right about now!

Mood Altering

2009-03-30T15:22:00.000-07:00

Typically I’m a happy optimist. But last Wednesday I woke up in a crummy mood, not feeling at all enthusiastic about my run. I should have been: It was spring break, so I had the luxury of running once the sun was up. But the sun didn’t make an appearance here in Portland that morning--instead, a light but steady rain was falling. I still should have been feeling chipper as I’d decided I’d do my 13-mile run in Forest Park. I rarely get to trail run these days: My runs are so long that I can’t spare the 15-minute drive each way to the trailhead.

But I just was not feeling this run. From the moment I started, it felt like a slog. It was what my coach, Lynn, calls “beauty miles”—mileage run at a relaxed pace intended to just get me time on my feet. No tempo, no marathon pace, no intervals. Just one foot in front of the other. Usually these mid-week runs are a delight, a chance to veg out and listen to tunes while covering 12 or so miles. Instead, it felt like a moving pity-party…until about mile 11 when, suddenly, a feeling of contentment flushed through my veins. The feeling of well-being was palpable, yet entirely fleeting, like a woodland creature scampering across my foot.

But instead of accepting that I was once again in a funk, I told myself, “Make your own good mood.” Almost as soon as I thought it, I felt my spirits lift. My footsteps seemed lighter and the weather looked less gloomy. My run ended on an upbeat note, but overall it was a dreary, weary run.

Oh, what a delightful difference a few days can make. Yesterday I ran 18 miles, with 10 of them around marathon pace (I averaged 8:37 for the 10). Lynn ran with me for 11+ miles, and the time passed in an enjoyable, entertaining blur. If my Garmin hadn’t told I’d covered 18 miles, I would have swore I’d run only half that distance. When I got home, I felt exuberant. It was a great kickoff to a high-mileage week.

-SBS

Forget Lourdes: I Have Ice Baths

2009-03-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

Even though I’ve run regularly for fitness (and sanity!) for more than 20 years, I sometimes still feel like a poser. As if someone is going to blow the whistle on me and reveal me for the brainiac, non-athletic child I used to be. Sometimes, to bolster my self-image, I do things that smack of hardcore athlete. Every so often, I become a teetotaler, acting as if serious athletes steer clear of all alcohol. Or, back in my green-and-salad (and single!) days, I got weekly massages.

My latest ploy? Every Sunday after my long run, I take an ice bath. And, let me tell you: It has cemented my reputation as an authentic jock. All I need to do is mention “ice bath” in my Facebook status update, and the comments come flying in. (Dare I say that ice baths are a “hot-button” issue on FB? Ha, ha: Sorry, couldn’t resist.) Yup, within minutes of finishing my run and chugging a Nalgene bottle full of Carnation Instant Breakfast (my new drink of choice for immediate refueling), I sit up to my waist in our clawfoot tub with ice cubes floating in the frigid water. (First I snuggle into a wool Sugoi pullover and a fleece hoodie to trap some body heat.)

If you feel life is passing you by too quickly, just hop in an ice bath. I swear time stands still while I’m in there! Yesterday I lasted 13.5 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Don’t know how I’d survive without iPhone to fiddle with (thus the photo above).

All jokes aside, ice baths work wonders. Yesterday was my first 20-miler for my marathon, and it included 10 miles at marathon pace (from miles 5-10 and again from 15-20). My mileage had been a bit “off” the week before because of illness and life-stress, so the threat level was at orange for muscle soreness today. But, nope, my legs feel fresh without any tweaks or strains. So after your next long run, hop in—the water’s fine!

-SBS

SBS 15K Playlist

2009-03-17T13:15:00.000-07:00

Had to skip the race but here's my playlist. I'm planning on listening to it tomorrow morning when I run tempo. Mary J. sets the "starting line" mood, but then it gets a bit slower to ensure I don't fly and die. (Oh, and it wouldn't be an SBS playlist if it didn't have some showtunes from Buffy musical and High School Musical series! I make no apologies!)

"Just Fine" by Mary J. Blige

"Everybody Knows" by Dixie Chicks

"Life of the Living" by Jeffrey Gaines

"Going Through the Motions" by cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

"We're All in This Together" by HSM cast

"Believe" by Cher

"Where Is the Love?" by Black Eyed Peas and Justin Timberlake

"Dig In" by Lenny Kravitz

"Mo Money Mo Problems" by Mase, Puff Daddy, and The Notorious B.I.G.

"My Life Would Suck without You" by Kelly Clarkson

"Lovely, Love My Family" by The Roots

"Wake Up Call" by Maroon 5

"MMMBop" by Hanson (again, no apologies!)

"LoveStoned" by Justin Timberlake

"South Side" by Moby

"Feel Good Inc." by Gorillaz

"God's Gonna Cut You Down" by Johnny Cash

"I Turn My Camera On" by Spoon

"Give Me a Beat" by Girl Talk

"Piece of Me" by Britney Spears

"Crack A Bottle" by Eminem et al

"Dead and Gone" by T.I.

"Suddenly I See" by K.T. Tunstall

"Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake

"Here It Goes Again" by Ok Go

My RUNny Nose

2009-03-16T13:18:00.000-07:00

Runners with children have more obvious hurdles to overcome than child-free ones: You can leave a cat at home alone when you head out the door, but can’t do the same with kiddies. But the bigger child-obstacle I’ve been tripped up by lately: germs.

Three weeks ago it was strep throat, and now we are fighting the amorphous fever/stuffy nose/cough. As I drag my sick butt out of bed to run, I think enviously of my friends Ellison and Monica. They are also training for Eugene Marathon, but they don’t have any young children in their households. Sure, it doesn’t mean they don’t get exposed to sick people, but I sometimes wonder what our house must look like under a giant microscope—a swirling vortex of germs, viruses, and nasty buggies.

I’m playing it cautious: I was supposed to race a popular 15K here yesterday, but my coach, Lynn, put the kibosh on it, saying no good ever comes from racing sick. It was tough for me to opt out of the race, but her wisdom resonated with me. Better to scale back, on purpose, for a few days than lose a week of training if I’d gotten worse. And yesterday was the tipping point: My lungs burned when I got back from a solo, shortened-condensed run. But an afternoon nap started the healing process. Already, halfway through a rest day, I’m feeling markedly better than I have in days.

Now I just need to look into large, Habitrail-like plastic environments for the kids. They can live in them for next six weeks until marathon, right!??!?!

-SBS

Reinventing Ourselves

2009-03-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

I'm visiting my parents in Connecticut, who still live in the house where I grew up. As I run on roads where I rode the bus in middle school or go past the house of my best friend in 5th grade, I've thought about how I've changed since those days. As I've mentioned a few times here, I was an athletic late-bloomer, not uncovering my inner jock until I started rowing in college. Before that I was a reader, not a runner or a rower.

Just as I no longer have bifocal glasses (to correct a lazy eye) or waist-length hair, I'm no longer inactive. But this morning on my 8.25-mile run, I suddenly realized how we continue evolving. It's not just that we're different from our teenage selves or who we were in our 20s, but even who we were last year or when we were training for our last big race. Despite turning another year older last week, I can still push the "reset" button and be pleased with the results.

Sometimes it's subtle changes: My long-run pace used to be 9:30-9:45. During this marathon training, I now hit 9:15-9:25 on long runs (yesteday on a hilly, 60-degree 18-miler, I averaged 9:23-minute miles). Other times it's more noticeable: My tempo pace is now an unwavering 8:15-8:25, whereas for my 2007 marathon, I struggled to get it down to 8:50. And I also have a different attitude toward hills: Instead of dreading them, I now get a thrill out of climbing them.

New challenges produce new attitudes and new skills. It's exciting to look back and see how far I've come--and how far I can still go.

A Great Birthday Gift

2009-03-04T11:53:00.000-08:00

Yup, today I start a new journey around the sun (as one friend eloquently put it on my Facebook page).

I'm not much for presents (I'm a hard-to-shop-for youngest child...), but 7-year-old Phoebe gave me something great right before I set off this a.m. on a later-than-usual 10-mile run. She asked me, "Mom, can I go running with you when I'm 15?" I replied, "Oh, we don't need to wait that long to run together!" With great excitement, Phoebe said, "Like when I'm 11 or 12?" I told her I thought we could even run together when she's 10.

A huge grin broke out on her face. It was exactly what this mother needed to kick off a great birthday.

-SBS

photo above is Phoebe on Monday, the birthday of Dr. Seuss

Weasel or Wolf?

2009-03-02T09:31:00.000-08:00

“Later, the boy sang out again, ‘Wolf! Wolf! The wolf is chasing the sheep!’ To his naughty delight, he watched the villagers run up the hill to help him drive the wolf away. When the villagers saw no wolf they sternly said, ‘Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong! Don't cry ‘wolf’ when there is NO wolf!’”

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Aesop’s fable, “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” lately. You know, the one with the moral of, “nobody believes a liar, even when he’s telling the truth.” Why have I been playing this parable through my mind?

Last week, my 7-year-old Phoebe was ill. Sickest she’s ever been (granted, she’s a hearty kid); slept pretty much all day Sunday. Fever, headache, stomach ache, and a few hurling episodes. We kept her home from school on Monday, but she seemed markedly improved the next day, so we sent her back to class. Off and on, Phoebe complained of having a headache or stomach ache, but like the villagers, we’ve come to think of that as the fake wolf-call: Phoebe “bellyaches” because she wants to get out of something.

On Thursday, the school called, saying Phoebe was complaining of a stomach ache and I needed to come get her. I stopped my workday and headed over there, convinced she was once again faking it. She didn’t feel hot, and she looked fine, so I convinced her to stay the rest of the day.

This is the point in my tale where I need to mention that on Monday night, I’d developed a sore throat from hell. Horrible pain when swallowing, yet no congestion. Fever on Tuesday morning, but I still got in a 6.5-mile run, including 12 hill repeats. But when I got home, I crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over my head. By mid-afternoon, though, I felt like a new woman, although my throat was still killing me. Ran my coach’s prescribed 10 easy miles on Wednesday, but let her know my throat was really bugging me.

The week before, I’d developed pain in my groin and upper leg area that hobbled me. I limped around, and ended up scrapping my tempo run on Friday and not getting in as many miles as we’d hoped for the week. That indeterminate leg issue, coupled with my sore throat, made me paranoid that my coach thought I was trying to weasel out of my workouts—just like Phoebe was trying to get out of school.

The kicker to this story? On Thursday, Phoebe and I both got diagnosed with our first-ever cases of strep throat. Seems the wolf turned out to be real this time. Suddenly running with a sore throat seems a breeze. The true wonder is how I’m able to move now , given how much mommy-guilt I’m lugging around!!

-SBS

Speedy Sarah

2009-02-23T14:18:00.000-08:00

Last Tuesday was a day of reckoning: My coach, Lynn Jennings, had me do a timed mile to see what I was made of. (Well, okay, she had me do it so she could figure out what I should be running my track intervals at….) The first time I’d done four laps around the track for time, in May 2007, I’d run 7:31, and I thought I was hot stuff. After numerous track workouts, I dialed it back to 7:23 in September 2007. Now here I was, almost 18 months later, and it was once again time to put the pedal all the way down to the metal.

The night before, I asked hubby-Jack what he thought I’d run. His guess? 7:29. Oh, he of little faith! I snorted, “No way, I’m aiming for 7:00 to 7:15.”

The next morning, when Lynn and I got to the track, she had me do a 400-meter piece, which I clocked in 1:35—at least 10 seconds better than my usual repeats. (Amazing what having an Olympian holding a stopwatch on the sidelines can do for leg speed and turnover…) Then she gave me a few pointers—stay on it the entire way; light, quick steps; pump the arms—and I was off.

Coming around the backside of lap 1, my quads felt like they were running on empty. I visualized the honey I’d drizzled onto my pre-run steel-cut oats, and willed it to my straining muscles. It did the trick: My legs felt energized by the 400-meter mark.

Lynn yelled out my splits, but not my cumulative time. I suck at math even when standing still, so I was clueless as I continued to circle the track. I felt like I was pushing my hardest, but not in a scary, I’m-going-to-die way. I was in control, and I finished strong. I felt like I’d possibly met my goal…

Nope.

I blew the doors off it! I ran 6:37!!! I was jubilant and in a state of disbelief as I jogged around the track. Me—I’d run a 6:37-minute mile!! Game on!

-SBS

My Coach, My Mentor, My Friend

2009-02-15T15:22:00.000-08:00

Catholic guilt requires me to come clean: I’m not training for Eugene Marathon alone. I have a coach. But before you think I’m rolling in dough (au contraire!), let me tell you she’s a good friend of mine who is coaching me for free. She also happens to be an Olympic bronze medalist in 10,000 meters, and a three-time World Cross-Country champion. Yup, you guessed it: My marathon coach is Lynn Jennings, one of the greatest women runners this country has ever seen.

Gee, when I type it like that, I almost feel I should be intimidated instead of eminently grateful! While I realize I’m the runner doing the literal legwork for this marathon in my come-hell-or-high-water attempt to set a personal best, I know I’m incredibly fortunate to have Lynn plotting out my program. Honestly, I get teary eyed with gratitude and awe just thinking about it sometimes.

But what I appreciate more than the training schedule or technique tips from Lynn is her respect of me as an athlete. While we both openly admit she and I are in two separate stratospheres in terms of speed, ability, and talent, Lynn has high regard for my integrity and intent in this marathon undertaking. We were emailing last week about this very topic, and she wrote to me, “I do respect you. Highly. You are a motivated, disciplined, diligent and hard-working athlete. I can respect that to the ends of the earth.”

It’s heartfelt booster-comments like that one that I believe are going to help propel me along 26.2 miles faster—and more comfortably—than I ever have before. We’ll see come May 3. But whatever the outcome that day, this is a once-in-lifetime situation that I prize dearly.

Thank you, LJ.

-SBS
*That’s a self-portrait of Lynn taken up in Portland’s Forest Park*

Getting Tripped Up

2009-02-09T13:52:00.000-08:00

Last week I was so ahead of the game, by midweek, I had already written today’s blog post, which I've now shelved due to recent developments. The best laid plans…

No, instead I’m going to admit to you that even in a family-crisis, I still think of myself and my running. Am I selfish? You tell me. Here’s what happened: Saturday was a brilliantly sunny day here. One trip to the playground wasn’t nearly enough. For the kids or me. So after John’s nap, we piled in the van and headed out. We had a blast, climbing, jumping rope, tree climbing, monkey barring. Several times I literally stepped back to appreciate the moment—being at playground with all three kids, by myself (realtor-Jack was showing a client some houses), and feeling calm and in control of the situation. Silly me—flirting with karma like that. I lost, big time.

We were headed home, steps from the van, when John decides to purposefully fling himself over a low-slung chain, hung to keep cars from driving onto the blacktop. Face-plant! He landed hard on his face, nothing to cushion the blow. Lots of blood, but not as many tears or shrieks as I would have expected from John. I immediately scooped him up and tried to survey the damage. A woman passing by offered help, and immediately pronounced, “oh, he’s broken his nose.”

I hustled the kids home, got Jack and my insurance card (note to self: don’t leave home without them!), got a neighbor to watch Phoebe and Daphne, and headed to the emergency room. (Accident happened just after 5:00 p.m.) I was surprisingly calm (I’m squeamish about blood), and not terribly worried. The bleeding had stopped pretty quickly, and John’s nose didn’t look askew. My big concern was that he had a concussion, but he seemed alert and tracking.

Here’s where I get ego-centric: In the waiting room, while I was cradling my “baby” boy in my arms, my thoughts turned to when I’d be able to eat dinner and what carb-dense leftovers might be lurking in our fridge. See, I had to run 15 miles on Sunday, and I couldn’t go to bed on empty. My mood actually perked up when I remembered a substantial helping of cheese ravioli sitting in a Tupperware container from the night before. Now if only our neighbor didn’t reheat them and serve them to the girls for dinner, I’d be in business….

Jack was a comfort at the hospital, and I told him in gentle, but emphatic terms, that he would be on night-duty if John had any breathing issues or couldn’t sleep. I selfishly had to be fully rested for my long run. Thankfully, we ended up getting home by about 7:15 and John had an easy night (the doc thinks his nose has only a minor fracture).

And, since I know you’ll wonder: I had a very good run on Sunday. I did, however, think a lot about my little trooper, John, as I pounded out the miles.

-SBS

*photo (above) is from today. And, yes, he's wearing his sisters' jammies and tunic. A current favorite ensemble.*

Stinky Momma

2009-02-06T14:21:00.000-08:00

Just had to share this chuckle: This a.m. I had an awesome run (7 miles total, including 4 at 8:28 tempo) before anybody got up. By the time I was done eating breakie, the kids had ambled downstairs. Then we all headed upstairs to take a shower (yes, I rarely shower alone these days!). I started undressing by our laundry chute in the hall, and Phoebe joined me to peel off her jammies.

She turned to me with a screwed-up face, and asked, "Mom, why does it smell like sweat?"

Gee, I wonder why, Phoebe!???!

-SBS

First Steps toward Fifth Marathon

2009-02-01T14:42:00.000-08:00

And so it begins: Today was Day 1 of my training for Eugene Marathon. I didn’t really do anything special than I have the past few Sundays—I ran 12 miles—but it felt different. I had a spring in my stride, and I felt a sense of purpose as I set off in the fog. Even though I could barely see 25 yards in front of my face, I knew something was out there in the distance that I am aiming for.

I did the same fairly deserted loop I did in late December in a snowstorm, and I was energized remembering my perseverance on that run. This time, I delighted in the sound and sight of songbirds flying over some fields, feeling like winter is winding down here in Portland.

With about three miles to home, the route started up a gradual, multi-mile climb. I remembered running it with a friend late last summer when it drove us into the ground. This time, my iPod cued up just the right mix of songs (including some beloved English Beat), and my feet felt lighter and my steps got quicker. Without intending to, I started running sub-marathon pace. I felt great, so I went with it. When I got home, I felt like a million bucks, especially when my Garmin 305 told me I averaged 8:58 per mile for the 12 miles. And the topper? Discovering that Jack and Phoebe were still asleep (at 9:30!) and yet the twins hadn’t wreaked havoc on the place.

I think it all bodes well.

-SBS

Nas-ty Momma

2009-01-27T12:56:00.000-08:00

Maybe I’m kidding myself, but I fancy I’m a moderately hip mom. I wear clothes from H&M, I’m an avid Facebook user, I go to happy hour with my gal-pals (okay, so they happen to all be my running or rowing buddies but, still, the evening involves cocktails, dressy tops, and rubbing elbows with Portland hipsters!), and I read Entertainment Weekly cover-to-cover. But over the weekend I ventured to a completely new level of cool.

In Park City, Utah, on business, a group of us writers and editors got to go to a Pharrell and Nas concert. Yes, a rap concert. In Park City. During Sundance Film Festival. And did I mention it started at 11 p.m.?!? My writer-friend Dana and I were fish out of water—our tresses didn’t look like white-blonde sheets of paper hanging to the middle of our backs, our breasts weren’t over-inflated like bike tires ready to burst, and the make-up on our faces weighed mere grams, not pounds. But our group had a rowdy sense of fun, and we were ready to roll.

The evening defies description, so let me put it this way: The night was a far cry from the Cowboy Junkies and Indigo Girls concert I saw last summer--at the Oregon Zoo, outdoors, during twilight hours. And I drank in every minute of it! (I’ve even downloaded some Nas onto my iPod for running inspiration: Go with “The World Is Yours” and “Get Down.”)

Okay, so this posting has nothing to do with running…except that this morning, as I was doing 10 snowy hill repeats, I thought about how the concert had thrust me out of my usual world. And how much I dug it. I’ve felt innervated ever since. I decided there’s an athletic lesson here: I need to venture beyond my limits more often. I like the results.

-SBS
(photo is of me, a gal-pal and, well, don't ask...)

The Return of the Nap

2009-01-18T15:26:00.001-08:00

As some of you may recall, a few months ago I was lamenting the end of an era at our house: No more naps. Not the twins, and thus not me. Well, like Bush standing on the aircraft carrier in 2003, I called the end too early. After a few months of no naps, John has resumed snoozing every afternoon. He actually seems “mature” enough to realize the necessity of a nap—otherwise he’s shattered by late afternoon. (Dear Daphne, on the other hand, is a bundle of joyful energy from morning until night, then she falls asleep soundly and speedily.)

That said, he needs coaxing to fall asleep midday. Who knows, maybe he’s just playing his babysitter and me, but he demands being soothed to sleep during the day. And while I’m never one to coddle my kids (it’s a shocker, I know!), I have quickly grown to love holding him close as he drifts off. Like last Sunday: I got back from my half-marathon at about 1:15 (race didn’t start until 9:30, and it was an hour+ south of Portland). Almost immediately, I carried John up to his room. Wrapping him in a blanket, I sank into my old nursing rocker, and he rested his adorable big noggin’ on my shoulder.

It was heavenly, really, rocking back and forth as I hummed and patted John on the back. Instead of fretting about hopping in the shower or getting changed into stink-free clothes, I luxuriated in the rare one-on-one time with my twin boy. For a second I fretted, thinking of countless other things I should be doing, but I reminded myself the sanity of our family depended on John recharging his batteries. I had nothing better to do than to sit there. I closed my eyes and a delicious calm pervaded my taxed body.

Thanks, John, for forcing your mom to take a break.

-SBS

SBS Half-Marathon PR Playlist

2009-01-13T14:36:00.000-08:00

One of you asked, so here it is. Playlist runs 2+ hours--thankfully, I didn't!
1. "When You're Falling" by Afro Celt Soundsystem
2. "The Moth" by Aimee Mann
3. "Saving Face" by KT Tunstall
4. "Here Comes the Hotstepper" by Ini Kamoze
5. "Lump" by Prez of USA
6. "Going Thru the Motions" from Buffy the Vampire musical (what can I say--I'm a Buffy addict!)
7. "Just Wanna Be with You" from HSM (ditto--addict)
8. "Complicated" by Averil Lavigne
9. "Used to Love Her" by Guns N' Roses
10. "Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution" by Black Crowes
11. "Freeway" by Aimee Mann
12. "Silent House" by Dixie Chicks (hit "replay" during the half)
13. "Sweet Child O' Mine" by Guns N' Roses
14. "Fat Bottomed Girls" by Queen (great recommendation, Joanne!)
15. "Hard Sun" by Eddie Vedder
16. "Me and Bobby McGee" by Janis Joplin
17. "Suddenly I see" by KT Tunstall (for pipitbird)
18. "Give Me a Beat" by Girl Talk (search for Illegal Arts for this downloadable "album"--awesome, but NC-17 rated!)
19. "Dig In" by Lenny Kravitz (might have to be my new power song!)
20. "Fool in the Rain" by Zeppelin
21. "Under Pressure" by Bowie & Queen
22. "Hands in the Air" by Girl Talk
23. "Makes Me Wonder" by Maroon 5
24. "Supernatural Superserious" by REM
25. "Lose Yourself" by Eminem
26. "The Best" by Tina Turner (fantastic workout song!)
27. "Stronger" by Britney Spears
28. "In Step" by Girl Talk
29. "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley
30. "Funplex" by B-52s
31. "All These Things I've Done" by The Killers
32. "Everybody Knows" by Dixie Chicks
33. "I'm Going to Be (500 Miles)" by The Proclaimers

-SBS

Smiles All Around

2009-01-12T12:47:00.000-08:00

As I type this, I’m listening to the playlist from my half marathon yesterday. Just like post-race, I have a big smile on my face, remembering my effort. I was a majorly happy camper yesterday. My goal was to break 1:50, something I hadn’t done in a half. Best halves thus far: Last year I ran the same race in 1:52:05, and the summer before I got pregnant with the twins, I ran another tabletop-flat half in 1:51-something.

Fueled by a carbo-load dinner of spaghetti and turkey meatballs and Phoebe birthday cake (she turned 7 on Saturday!), a solid training plan, and an almost the perfectly compiled playlist, I felt good the entire race—and ran 1:49:55. (By my watch—no chip.) Woo-hoo! Five seconds ain’t much, but that counts—sub-1:50! Perhaps best of all, I passed numerous runners in the second half of the race, reeling in many of them between miles 10 and 13. If the course, set on quiet country roads in exposed farmland as flat as the Netherlands, hadn’t been somewhat windy, who knows what I could have pulled off. I was—and still am—ecstatic!

But when I got home, my joy multiplied: While I was off racing, Jack and his buddies had delivered and set up the second-hand play structure we had bought on craigslist. A big wooden one complete with monkey bars, swings, a faux rock wall, slide, and double-decker playhouse. If you live where large lots are the rule, this might not be such thrilling news, but for those of us with small city yards, this is big-time excitement. Running in our neighborhood, I’d looking longingly at houses set on rare double lots complete with play structures, wishing we had space for one. Finally I decided enough with the envy: We’d tear out the lovely but useless shade garden in our sideyard and plant a play structure there. Who needs lily of the valley, hydrangea, and hellebore when there are three darling, rambunctious kids living here? (Including Daphne, named after one of the two plants we did keep in the sideyard!)

Yup, I feel elated about my speedy half, but the thing that’s going to keep this mother happy in the long run is that play structure.

-SBS

Step Lively

2009-01-05T12:22:00.000-08:00

If I do well this Sunday in my half-marathon, I might have the snow to thank. We’ve had a freak series of snowstorms in the past three weeks, but I didn’t let the white stuff stop me from running most days. Instead I followed the advice of an awesome runner-friend, who told me to, “take smaller steps, keep your weight centered.”

As I picked along on a tempo run last Friday, hopscotching on a crust of new snow, I realized my shorter, livelier steps might actually be helping me maintain a speedier pace. I had a flashback to the 2007 Nike Women’s Marathon, when my coach, Paula Harkin, was urging me to run faster. “Take quick, short steps! Quick steps! Quick steps!” she chirped.

Sigh…it did me no good in that race, but with all my practice on snowy, slushy roads, I think I might have laid down some new pathways in my brain, allowing me to call upon that stride mid-race.

And Daphne, almost 3.5 years, has certainly been getting me in the mood: Every time I walk in the door, sweaty and clothed in running garb, she yells out, “Momma, you run a fast race? I want to run a fast race with you!,” and then she peels off, doing laps around the first floor. Now if only I had her boundless energy....

-SBS

Surprise!

2008-12-29T13:35:00.000-08:00

I’m not big on curveballs: I like having a plan and sticking with it. But in the last week, I’ve been thrown for a loop several times. The main culprit? One snowstorm after another here in Portland, a city woefully unable to cope with any inclement weather other than rain. We had snow off and on for a week, then starting Saturday, December 20, our world got whiter and whiter. Roads rapidly became impassable, and we were basically housebound for a week except for a few sledding forays (that's Jack with the kids, above). Our babysitter lives across the river in Washington so she was unable to come to work for the three pre-Christmas workdays. I donned my mommy-hat; writing and deadlines would have to wait.

As I’ve admitted many times: I’m not cut out to be a full-time mom. If you’d told me on December 19 that I’d be without childcare for the next nine straight days, I would have been panic-stricken. Yet, much to my own surprise (and delight!), I got caught up in the raucous, messy fun of it all. Sure, I had my meltdowns, just like the kids, but I also enjoyed our kids’ aimless ebb-and-flow. I especially loved sleeping in until the kids woke us up and snuggled, a luxury I never enjoy because of early morning workouts (which were impossible or idiotic due to closed gyms and dark, slippery roads). I couldn’t chart how time passed--it all slid by in a boisterous blur.

My run on Saturday was another longer-than-expected holiday surprise. We had finally braved the roads to visit some of my husband’s relative up on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula. I wanted to run 10 miles to prep for my January 11 half-marathon, but was clueless about the area. Will, a cousin’s husband, mapped out a loop that we figured might not long enough. Oh, how wrong we were!

About six miles in, I started to realize I was going to be running for longer than 10 miles, and I wished I’d brought along more than a single Roctane for energy. It had been raining nearly non-stop, and my hands were getting stiff from the 38-degree temps. When I hit a familiar-to-me intersection at about 9.5 miles and realized it was still at least two miles to the cousin’s house, I consoled myself with two daydreams—that Will would realize his mistake and come get me or that I’d hitchhike if fatigue overwhelmed me. Instead, desperation, frustration, and the cold fueled my fire and my pace quickened. I ran the final 4 miles—yes, the loop ended up being 13.4 miles long!—much faster than normal.

Have no doubt: I gave Will plenty of grief about sending me so far. But at the end of the day, I was proud as punch that I’d persevered through an unexpectedly long run. It was exactly how I felt about my out-of-the-blue long stint with the kids. Maybe my life should contain more unexpected turns.

-SBS

Cool Quiet

2008-12-20T14:06:00.001-08:00

Few things make me feel more alive than running in the cold. I don’t overdress, letting me feel the outlines of my entire body as I tromp along the streets. I become vividly aware that I am a corporeal being.

This morning I felt this way for two hours as I ran through yet another of Portland’s freak snowstorms. (That's me post-run.) One reason I opted to run outdoors, as scheduled, was because I thought about all you blog-followers who live in colder climes. I figured if you all run year-round, I shouldn’t let a steady onslaught of white stuff to stand in my way. It wasn’t until I was about 8 miles from my house (I did an out-and-back so I wouldn't be tempted to cut my run short!) that it dawned on me: Maybe Canadians and Coloradans run on the treadmill on days like this!

Despite the chilly temps, I enjoyed the heck out of my run, loving the deserted streets and the stream of tunes on my iPod. Around mile two, Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “Passionate Kisses” came on. The lines that set my attitude for the run were her singing about what she wanted—“Pens that won’t run out of ink/And cool quiet and time to think.” I figured it’s exactly what this mom had been looking for after a week in a snowbound house with three kids amped up for Christmas.

Happy holidays!

-SBS

Sarah 3.0

2008-12-14T19:19:00.000-08:00

It’s hard to do, but when I think back to what I was like pre-kids, I dimly remember being able to average sub-8-minute miles on the Hood to Coast Relay. And running the San Francisco Half Marathon in 1:42. It all seems so long ago--and so much more dang fast than I am now. But lately it’s been getting slightly easier to believe.

After having Phoebe (almost 7 years ago!), I got back in shape pretty quickly, thanks in part to twice-weekly Pilates sessions that are far beyond my reach these days (both time- and $-wise). I didn’t get quite as speedy as my pre-pregnancy days, yet I wasn’t too far off. I squeaked out a 4:01 (non-chip time!) marathon 14 months post-partum, and I felt good about where I was.

But then came my twin-pregnancy, and the wheels came off. My firm, Pilates-cized abs were stretched and sliced, and my speed was shot. After having John and Daphne, it became a serious struggle for me to average less than 9-minute miles. Even doing weekly speedwork for last year’s marathon didn’t help matters that much. Looking back, I’ve started to think I was still recovering from the 2-for-1 pregnancy and breastfeeding the twins for a year.

Because, at long last, something has clicked, and my times have dropped. Each time it happened in October and November, I thought it was a fluke. But now I think my hard drive has been reset for good. Like the other day, in the early stages of a sinus infection, I headed out on an “easy” run. I just wanted to get the lead out and enjoy the sunshine; I wasn’t consciously putting the pedal to the mettle. Yet turns out I averaged 8:20-minute miles—5.5 of them.

And the icing on the proverbial cake? That muffin top I’d been sporting since the twins is gone, and when I got weighed at the doc’s office at my diagnose-the-sinus-infection appointment, I found out I’m the lightest I’ve been in 10 years. Sarah 3.0: Not new, but definitely improved.

-SBS

Secrets of a Happy, Healthy Family??

2008-12-10T11:58:00.000-08:00

I hope you don't mind if I solicit help for an article on here every once in a while. I'm working on a story for a magazine about having a happy, healthy family. I'm looking for anecdotes from parents about things they've done to make their family content, fulfilled, and healthy. I'm especially looking for a family who pared back their children's schedules to restore some sanity in their family's life. Like dropped art lessons or cut out soccer. If you have such a tale, pls. post a comment in next day or two.

Other tips welcome! I really appreciate your help.

-SBS

Getting Engaged

2008-12-08T12:24:00.000-08:00

I’m not sure if I’m a few weeks early, or 11 months late, but lately I’ve been carrying out a New Year’s resolution: to be a more patient, engaged mother. It actually started in mid-November on the Friday afternoon when I ditched work after our nanny called in sick. I found when I slowed down and committed my attention more fully to my children, we were all happier campers. It helps that John and Daphne recently had a leap in maturity level—now, when I take all three kids to a playground or pool by myself, I am not run ragged and my blood pressure doesn’t soar. And the three kids have become more simpatico recently, playing school or house together nicely.

Now that the holidays are upon us, I’ve taken my mommy-method a step further: I’m vowing to be less of a Scrooge this year. No more Sarah Bah-humbug Shea. Like yesterday: On my long run, I decided I’d bake a few batches of holiday cookies and invite one of Phoebe’s friends over to help decorate them with my gang. This evening, I’m taking the kids out to look at Christmas lights, and we have plans to watch Portland’s Christmas Ship Parade on the Willamette. I’ve already got our wreath hung, and the tree goes up soon. Opening up an Advent calendar window is an evening ritual. (But turns out I’m not going full-throttle enough: The other day in the van, I turned the radio to a station that plays only holiday songs. Phoebe piped up, “Why are you listening to this—you’re not festive.” Ha, ha, ho, ho!)

Overall, in my new mommy-mode, I find all of us are in better spirits and the kids have fewer flare-ups and meltdowns. I realize I’m not going to become Donna Reed overnight, but I’m aiming to be a phrase a British physician coined in 1953—a “good enough mother.” I don’t have to be perfect, just caring, alert, and reliable. I think that’s the best gift I can give to my kids—no bows or gift wrap required.

-SBS

Multi-Momma

2008-11-30T21:13:00.000-08:00

I haven’t done a triathlon since 1995 (yikes: how old does that make me?!), yet lately I’ve been digging multisport workouts. I don’t have any reason for doing them except that I love diversity—it keeps my mind and muscles fresh. November and December are my do-whatever-I-enjoy months before I jump into marathon training with both feet. I am doing a half-marathon mid-January, so I can’t slack off running entirely, but I’m having fun mixing things up.

I adore riding my mountain bike to my health club—it takes about 20 minutes—then swimming for 45 minutes, then biking home. I started riding my bike to the club when gas prices were sky high, but now I do it to shrink my carbon footprint—and to see the sun. We’ve had a relatively sunny fall here in Portland, and I find it tough to justify going indoors to swim when the sun is shining. This way I get the best of both worlds—a direct jolt of make-me-happy sunshine plus time in the water.

Toward the end of the rowing season, about once a week, I did a workout I called the Three R’s: Ride my bike to boathouse; Row with the team; Run a 3-mile riverfront loop; then ride home. (Okay, so that’s 4 R’s, but one is repeated…) I adored the feeling of driving Phoebe to school and having all that under my belt already.

I’m feeling like the afternoons this weekend with the kids were multisport in their own way: Yesterday it was the park, then a dash to the library, while today it was a different playground, followed up by cookie-baking. (First time with all three kidlets!) I’d say those “workouts” are as legit as any swim-bike-run brick, don’t you?

-SBS

Working My Mommy Muscles

2008-11-24T11:26:00.000-08:00

I'm taking a needed rest day today: I ran 10 miles on Saturday, then biked for 2 hours yesterday. But it's not my legs that are sore. No, it's my left bicep. I feel like I did countless bicep curls. When the pain kicked in last evening, I couldn't figure out what made just my left arm ache. The raking I did that afternoon? Riding on the drops for too long?

Nope, I realized: It was carrying dear Daphne around downtown on Saturday when I took the girls coat-shopping for me. Funny how lugging 33 loveable pounds 10 blocks will do that to ya.

-SBS

No More Naps

2008-11-23T14:55:00.000-08:00

It’s an end of an era: John and Daphne, our 3-year-old twins, are nappers no more. I tried to deny it as long as possible, enforcing “quiet time” in their room for an hour or two every afternoon. That system worked for a few months with their singleton sister, Phoebe, when she was 3, but with the twins it was a joke. Instead, it was “jump on the bed time” or “tear out the insulation time” or “rip pages out of books time.” Argh!

Yet as much as they don’t want to nap, the dear little things still need a siesta. Most days it’s John who is worse for the wear as the day progresses, getting grumpier and whinier with each passing hour. Sometimes cradling him and singing to him allows him to nod off for a 2-hour snooze, but then that wrecks him from going to sleep at night. Usually Daphne is a ball of energy from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m. and then she racks hard, but last night, she short-circuited right before dinner, and we put her to bed at 6 p.m. No naptime is tough on them, and on our family.

And now it’s got me worried about my marathon training. Last go-round, a 3-hour nap on Sunday afternoons was as critical to my training as track workouts or weekly long runs. Honestly, doing my 18- or 20-milers, my mental “finish line” wasn’t our back door, but the twins’ 1 p.m. naptime. I’d put them down, set Phoebe up with an activity, and sink into my pillow. When I hit the heavy mileage for the Eugene Marathon, the twins will be about four or five months shy of their fourth birthday…not quite old enough to trust on their own while I rest. (With Phoebe at that age, it was no problem, but John and Daphne are a handful…and then some.)

My only hope is that I’ll find new resources of energy that allow me to power through my heavy training days without a nap. Yesterday, I ran 10 miles and didn’t feel tired all day. But as we all know—10 miles is a far cry from 20.

-SBS

Mommy for a Day

2008-11-17T15:53:00.000-08:00

Work has been crushing down on me lately, making each hour of my workday extra-precious. So it was a real kick in the gut when our babysitter called on Friday to say she was sick. Thankfully Fridays are the day both of our 3-year-old twins, John and Daphne, are at preschool until 1 p.m., so I had half the day to work. But after that I was on full-time mom-mode as my husband, Jack, was out of town on business.

It’s hard to break away from my desk on any Friday, but last week was especially hairy: I was staring down the deadline for the bi-annual Shape shoe review, due on Monday. (And, yes, even though I’d been working on the review all week—tabulating results, amassing great tester quotes, and gathering tech info—the Word doc was a blank slate as of noon Friday when our babysitter dropped the bomb on me. Uh-oh!) As I dashed off to pick up John and Daphne, I debated: I could either make a half-assed attempt at working by planting the twins in front of the boob-tube, or I could embrace my mommy-ness. I decided the kids and I both deserved my full attention being devoted to them, and I told myself I wouldn’t even attempt to work that afternoon.

As the sun glinted off our minivan’s windshield, I told myself it was a lovely day, I had two fun-loving 3-year-olds, and I was going to enjoy our afternoon together. We headed to my health club, a place John and Daphne had never been before. I toyed with dropping them off in the gym’s fun childcare (big sis, Phoebe, has loved it the few times she’s gone!) and swimming laps solo, but that ran counter to my new carpe diem (carpe afternoon?) dictate. Plus, Daphne won me over on the way in, exclaiming, “I love the gym! I love the gym!” even though, to her, it probably just looked like a cinderblock fortress. If she could be so blindly enthusiastic, I could, too!

Instead we headed to the kiddie pool, where Daphne continued to pile it on, shouting delightedly, “I love swimming! I love swimming!” Sure, John whined and barely stuck his foot in the water, but we all had a blast, playing with little floating sea creature plush toys. The twins seemed to comprehend it was a special outing, and they were relatively controlled. (Translation: My blood pressure didn’t spike, and they didn’t tumble headfirst into the deep end.) Before I knew it, it was time to get dressed (I had to bribe them with the promise of a cookie from the café and return visits to the pool, an especially effective bargaining chip with Daphne a.k.a. the preschool Dara Torres!) and go pick up Phoebe from school.

While I’m not cut out to be a full-time mom, Friday made me realize I wish I had more latitude in my schedule for an occasional afternoon off with my kiddies. Maybe I’m the one who needs an occasional “sick day”!

-SBS

Welcome!

2008-11-16T19:15:00.000-08:00

Hi Marathon Moms devotees! I'm going to post in next day or two, so please check back. We're so thrilled you followed us here, and we look forward to continuing to share our mommy-run-work balance with you all.

We've Moved back to Runner's World site!

2008-05-09T13:01:00.000-07:00

Dimity and I are blogging again on Runner's World site, so please check us out there. We appreciate you following us to and fro!
http://marathonmoms.runnersworld.com/

Our first post is about Sarah's mommy-guilt feelings about her half-marathon this weekend. Read why her mind will be on another race instead.

Sarah and Dimity

The Sweet Spot

2008-05-07T08:22:00.000-07:00

I recently finished reading Lynne Cox's Swimming to Antarctica, of which I can't speak highly enough. She's not only an amazingly strong and gifted long-distance, open-water swimmer, but she's also is an amazingly smart and entertaining writer (as in, she writes for The New Yorker). I'd hate her if I didn't like her so much.** Anyway, in the first chapter or so, she recounts how she learned she wanted to swim The English Channel. She was maybe all of eight years old. She crossed the sucker at age 15, and the rest is history: she has, with varying degrees of support, been able to devote her life to what makes her body and mind sing.

To say sprint triathlons are my version of Coxe's swimming is a stretch, but I can easily say I found my sweet spot this weekend. The race was, in two words, nearly perfect. The worst part: predictably, the water temperature. In the mid-50's. I rented a full-length wet-suit and wore two caps to minimize the heat escape, but putting your face in water that chilly--chilly for mortals, not Arctic-woman Cox--isn't pleasant no matter how you slice it. (And the wetsuit wasn't that efficient, since I poked a hole in the leg putting it on. Ugh. Over $100 for 500 lousy meters.) The cold water forced me to crank up my kick, and I was in T1 in less than 10 minutes, prying my way out of the damaged wetsuit and layering on clothes for the bike. The rest of the race was sublime: the bike was free of wind and significant hills, and I stayed aero for a good portion, picking off people like I never have before. The run was as flat as I wish my abs were. I put myself on cruise control and grooved on in, finishing in a little over 1 hour, 30 minutes.

I didn't wish away the race. I didn't have thoughts of not finishing. I didn't even want to slow down. I was actually smiling heading out on the run--the photographic proof is above. Which are all new sensations for me, and all very, very welcomed. My bring-it-and-bite-it-off mentality placed me in 3rd (!) for my age group, and 10th (!) woman overall. I'm not sure I can go up from here, since my next race is Olympic distance, twice as long, and I'm sure the ghost of races past is feeling restless and ready to rear her ugly head. Still, I'm going to do my best to savor my sweet, sweet spot.

**I like her just from her writing and attitude. I get to confirm that tonight, when I'm going to see her speak in person. So, so excited.

Me excited to race: are you kidding?

2008-04-30T17:33:00.000-07:00

While Sarah's licking her athletic ego, I'm pumping mine up. My first triathlon of the season is on Sunday, and I can't stop thinking about it. I've actually been having random triathlon-inspired dreams for the past few nights, which is really bizarre for me. I was a rower for six solid years, and trained for my last marathon for 6 months, and neither sport ever entered my mind when my head hit the pillow. I don't think I've never been so excited for a race in all of my 35 years.

I usually I dread races, and then exclaim, "I'm just so glad that's over with!" at the end of it and have no desire to work out, let alone sign up for another one for months. But that's usually because it's one long race/slog--a marathon, a half-Ironman--and I've spent months slogging through the training.

This race, though, is my first in a series of at least three over the next three months, in which I hope eliminate any slog. The races are short and, as such, seem so do-able. This one, a 500m swim, a 17- mile bike, and a 5k run, I'm sure I'll be done with in less than two hours. I'll only need one or two Gus. I won't need to refill my water bottles. When I look down at my watch 10 minutes into the run, there will be max 20 minutes left--not at least 4 more hours.

The other reason I'm pumped is that I feel really strong. Like stronger than I did after I trained for the marathon. Ever since my mantra has crystalized as, "I can handle this for now," I've pushed myself more than I usually do. Which is to say, I've pushed myself. I regularly lead my swim lane (even through the what-lap-is-this-again? distance swims, which I despise). I went for a bike ride with a friend last week, and (happily) had to put my pedals on cruise control so she could keep up. At a group run on Tuesday, I jumped in with the middle-speed group (8-10 min. mile pace) and finished a 6.6 mile run in Garden of the Gods (read: hillier than a ski resort) in 56 minutes. Yes, I fell off the back of the group frequently, but that's a blazing pace for me to sustain. During that run, I just kept saying, Five more minutes. You can do five more minutes. My confidence, like my dreams, are so strangely un-me.

More than anything, this race, short on distance and expectations, feels so physically and mentally light. I'm sure I won't feel that way when I'm actually out racing--especially because the water temps are supposed to be in the 50's--but I'm sure that I can handle it. Especially when I take it in five-minute chunks.

I Need to Get A Little Stubborn

2008-04-30T16:58:00.000-07:00

I’m fit, but not athletic. Growing up in an erudite family, not an active one, I didn’t play any sports as a child. In part because I was late to the game—any game!--I’ve always considered myself merely an adequate athlete but not a talented one.

Last week I was feeling particularly low on the jock-scale: I got cut from the line-up of my rowing team for a big-time race this weekend. Instead, our coach boated a teammate who is 20 years older and a half-foot shorter than I am. Ouch! Our coach couched his decision with an encouraging message, though, saying I “have a great deal to offer in strength, fitness, and competitiveness, but it needs to be refined in a certain form to make” me the rower he thinks I’m capable of being.

I’ve licked my wounded ego, but I’m left with considerable doubts about whether or not I am athletic enough to fix my rowing technique problems. I feel I am fundamentally lacking the proprioception and kinesthetic awareness (fancy fitness-speak for knowing what my body is doing when it’s in motion!) to make the changes needed to become the kick-butt rower I want to be. (As one of my sympathetic teammates put it, I “will be a force” once I can channel my fitness and strength.)

I believe Part I of the transformation is having faith in my abilities. I recently interviewed a world-champion sculler who is bound for the Olympics. I am trying to ingrain some wisdom she shared with me. “Believing that you can master parts of the stroke that are currently tricky for you is half the battle. That you can change it and make it right. You have to be a little stubborn.”

-Sarah

We All Move Together

2008-04-23T14:19:00.000-07:00

I just read The Brief History of the Dead by Kevin Brockmeier. Actually, I devoured the book. I started it on Saturday morning and finished it early the next afternoon, despite running 14.3 miles on Sunday morning and being on full-time mommy-duty all weekend. The novel is two alternating story lines: one about The City--a relatively mundane place where the dead exist while they are still remembered by the living—and the other about a woman stranded in Antarctica after a virus has wiped out most of the world population. Turns out the inhabitants of The City are all still there because this one woman has memories of them swirling around her like so many snowflakes. While it sounds somewhat sci-fi, it’s a moving, insightful book.

My mind was whirring after I put down the book. I contemplated how interconnected people are and how much one person can influence the life of another.

Like our nanny, Eva. This week marks her six-year anniversary of caring for our children. She is a beloved member of our family, yet because of the language barrier (she is a native Spanish speaker with limited English, and I stupidly opted for French instead of Spanish in high school), we aren’t as enmeshed in each other’s lives as you might expect. Like I don’t know how she spends her weekends, and she’s is unclear on what my husband does for a job.

But a few months, Eva told me that she was going to 24Hour Fitness every morning before work. I was surprised-- I never thought of Eva as a fitness enthusiast. She and I had once joked—in Spanglish—that she kept from getting gordo (fat) by chasing my younger daughter, Daphne, around her dining room table. (One of Daphne’s favorite games!)

Yesterday I asked Eva if she was still going to the gym. She indicated she’d taken an aerobics class that morning, and that she takes a kickboxing class every Wednesday at 5:30 a.m. I was so proud of her—and I couldn’t help but think my active life had influenced her.

-Sarah

Wheels

2008-04-20T19:43:00.000-07:00

Here's what a geeky athletic couple my husband, Grant, and I are: we'd rather go for a bike ride together than see a movie. (We fell in love on wheels, really. When we weren't riding, we'd bond over the fact that we both entertained the idea of being a bike messenger in NYC.) With both of us traveling too much lately, we haven't talked about anything more than who is "brushing" Ben's teeth tonight (read: wrenching his jaw open, then jamming in a toothbrush while he wails) or figuring out how to use our newly-bought composter or responsible for leaving bananas off the grocery list. Compelling stuff, I realize, but not enough to carry a relationship. Desperate for some QT together, I found a babysitter for Saturday morning so we could take our first ride together in over a year.

Buoyed by a low-wind, sunny morning--and the prospect of starting a weekend not with chores, but with each other--we set out, and after we got out of town and traffic, I couldn't slow down. As cheesy as it sounds, my spirit was soaring. Newly fitted into my aerobars, I rested my forearms into them, put my head down and pushed and pushed down the route that was, for these hilly parts, amazingly flat.

I was working hard--I was feeling too strong to just cruise--and as soon as I felt like I couldn't carry the pace, Grant would pull up in front of me and toe the line. I'd hang back in his air pocket for as long as I needed to, then assume the lead again. I wasn't watching my heart rate or my bike computer or anything, really, except his ankles or the road. We leapfrogged like that for nearly two hours, hardly exchanging words, but knowing exactly what the other person needed. If only marriage were that fluid and simple.

Towards the end, I rode up beside him and said, "Now I remember why I fell in love with you."

"Why?" he asked. (Truth be told, I wished he would've yelled something like, "Yes, my sweetness! Bikes!" But he didn't, so I helped him out.)

"We love to ride our bikes together," I said, and he smiled.

Portland’s Newest Trailblazer

2008-04-13T14:56:00.000-07:00

I’m very excited--I have a new trail running partner!

The only hitch: She and I can’t start running together for about another 7 years or so. You see, it’s Daphne, my daughter who turns 3 this July.

Daphne has always been an active child, even in utero. While her twin brother, John, was content to sit basically in one spot for the duration of the pregnancy, Daphne kicked and flipped with abandon. While she started walking 7 weeks later than John, she was first to run and take stairs two at a time. (Stadiums, anyone?) Daphne’s legs are substantially more muscular than little John’s are.

Daphne sealed her trailblazing status this morning when our family-fivesome went for a hike in a state park. The twins long ago gave up riding in a stroller, so they both took off the second we hit the trail. But it was Daphne who kept going—and going. Occasionally she’d look back over her shoulder, hair flying, to laugh at me, but otherwise the only time she stopped was when she tripped. Then, a quick hand-wipe, and she was off again! (She's the pink blur in the photo, above.) She easily covered a mile and a half.

Now, like her mother after a long run, Daphne is napping hard. Rest easy, my little trail runner.

-Sarah

I can handle this for now

2008-04-08T11:53:00.000-07:00

Finally caught my breath from way too many days away from home. First, a week in Florida for spring break (glorious, except for the stomach bug Ben and I got while down there, and two vomiting episodes on planes); then a week at triathlon camp in Tucson for an upcoming story. Yes, I'm very fortunate to call a week at tri camp my "job", but I assure you those perks come along very infrequently--and this perk, which involved training with people who have, like, 10 Ironmans to their credit, kicked my butt clear across Tucson and humbled what little athletic ego I do have.

One thing, though, that became embarrassingly apparent in Tucson was that I'm incredibly mentally untough. My brain, when it comes to pushing myself, just asks why bother?, then clicks off. I'm fortunate enough to be blessed with an athletic body that performs relatively well on hours of endurance training, with only tiny bits of speedwork or intense training thrown in. I'm as thankful for it as I am for having a job that lets me occasionally sweat to earn money, but also know that counting on my lowest physical common denominator is the equivalent of coasting downhill on a bike; the alternative is to shift to the biggest gear and push the pedals to add to the speed. I'm good at pushing when I'm in a group environment or am held accountable by a coach, but I really suck at it when I'm by myself. In other words, I rely on others to make me be mentally tough. (And even they don't help sometimes; if I'm tired, I'll happily throw in the towel and coast.)

So I tossed around some ideas and mantras to see what could make me push myself a little more. I'm not ready to HTFU (harden the &*% up) and the idea of posting a word like suffer on my handlebars, as a coach at the camp did, doesn't suit me either. I can't go from one extreme to another so quickly, even if that's all I worked on. And I've got plenty of other things to work on if I never pedaled again--two kids, a job with tight deadlines, a marriage I want to thrive in--that if I concentrate solely on honing my race skills, I'll surely pay a much bigger and more significant price later.

But what I can do is put myself out there more and see what happens. I signed up for four triathlons this summer, and, as I resolved on January 1, plan on racing them--just not surviving them. (My first is Tri For Your Cause, a sprint in Boulder on May 4th.) I plan on saying, "I will," when somebody asks who is going to lead the lane in master's swimming (I already did this once, and I was totally fine). I'm going to find a cycling group whose average pace is a little faster than mine, and hang on their wheels to the best of my mind's abilities. I already know my legs and lungs are capable of going faster.

I'm also going to repeat my new mantra, which I found in a book for female triathletes, as often as I need to: I can handle this for now. Which means to me, there's no pressure to blow up, but no excuse to slow down either. A good start.

Dimity

A Race Worth Running

2008-03-30T14:37:00.000-07:00

I’m jazzed: Phoebe and I are going to run a race together! We are going to do the Nike 5K for Kids on June 7 at Nike HQ. The Nike 5k, along with a Let Me Play 1 Mile, is part of a 8-city series of unique fundraising runs. When you sign up, 100% of your entry fee is donated to the school physical education program your choice. By Phoebe and me running it, the ailing PE program at her school, Buckman Elementary, will get $30 ($15 x 2). (Her school currently only has a half-time PE teacher, and the school has had to cut that position for next school year.)

And schools don’t just get the much-needed funds: Nike offers training runs, school visits (just ask!), and P.E. Teacher’s Night for each race. This race series is part of Nike’s Let Me Play initiative, intended to help kids unleash their potential through sport (right on!), so these extras are propelled by that effort. I know Phoebe and I will take part in a few training runs, as she’s never run more than 2 miles (at her school’s Run for the Arts event last fall, where the above photo was taken).

When I told her about the event, I gave her the option to run the 1-mile race or the 3.1-mile one, and she chose the longer one. (That’s my girl!) She’s been raring to go running with me since last December. After I finished a particularly rainy run, Phoebe asked me, “Momma, when the weather gets sunny again, can I go running with you?” Smart girl! Now if it ever stops hailing and starts feeling remotely spring-like, Phoebe and I can get started!

If you want to jump on this great bandwagon, you can take part in races in Denver (May 4), Seattle (May 10), and Boston (May 31). To date, this race series has raised more than $1 million for schools across the U.S. Definitely causes worth running for, if you ask me!

-Sarah

A Parent's Love, A Son's Strength

2008-03-26T09:21:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to share a very moving story in this morning's New York Times about Taylor Phinney, a cycling phenom who is the teen son of Olympians Davis Phinney and Connie Carpenter. Taylor looks primed to win a slot on the 2008 Olympic cycling team just days before his father undergoes brain surgery to help control the ravaging symptoms of Parkinson's disease. The story had me crying over my bagel this morning.

-Sarah

My Half [Baked] Plans

2008-03-20T13:36:00.000-07:00

Some of you have been asking which training program I ended up following for my May 10 half marathon. Well, here’s my question back at ya: Is making no decision actually making a decision? I’m not following any prescribed program, just doing what I want to do so far. Is this the same as creating my own program? (Which sounds so expert and fancy!) Or would that involve writing something down and following it week to week?

In my own defense, my indecision springs from a few factors. For starters, I still feel in good shape from my half in January. Except for maybe an 8-miler one Sunday, I’ve continued doing a long run of 10 or more miles every weekend. While I didn’t do a track workout until this morning, I wasn’t completely ignoring speed-- I’ve thrown in some intervals to my runs. And unlike my marathon training last year, I haven’t shied away from hills. I’ve done a few hill repeat workouts, and then last weekend I visited my parents in Connecticut where I ran every day. As any New Englander knows, any run out there involves hills! (Oy, I’d forgotten how many hills there are back East—and how long and/or steep some of them are! But my muscles had some memory—even after a hilly 10-miler on Saturday, my legs were pain-free.)

I’m still considering following a plan—I just got a copy of Run Less, Run Faster by Bill Pierce et al because several of you sang the praises of the FIRST training program—but who knows if or when that’ll happen. Chances are good I’ll be doing an exciting rowing race just a week before my half, which means I can’t be completely running-centric in my workouts. Maybe I should just own up and admit that I’m winging this next half. That's not the same as slacking, right?

-Sarah

Beauty.Mark

2008-03-14T10:19:00.000-07:00

I'm in a film club, which is basically the slacker version of a book club: no preparation required, save a good appetizer. Instead, a few friends and I get together once a month to watch a documentary, drink wine, eat something beyond grilled-cheese crusts and have a lengthy discussion, post-film. I love these Sunday nights; they make me feel smart and thoughtful and able to process an argument--all qualities that took a deep dive south when the rugrats arrived.

On Sunday, we watched Beauty.Mark, a must-see film by former elite triathlete Diane Israel. About ten years ago, I went to a cool body/mind/sport camp called Women's Quest, where Diane was a coach. I remember her bringing up her body and eating issues during a seminar. A specific detail: when she had to travel, she used to get up early enough to run to the airport. I can't remember more details, like what she did with her luggage, but the fact that she would get up at 3 a.m. to run 20 or so miles was both bewildering and, truth be told, slightly inspiring to me.

In Beauty Mark, Diane cracks herself--and her eating disorders and beyond screwed up body image--open for the world to see. She didn't get her period until she was 30 years old. She would eat one Powerbar for lunch during days she'd spend exercising. She had something like 17 stress fractures in her feet, and would just run through them. She'd pace like a mad animal on days she couldn't work out. What looked like a world-class athlete on the outside was actually a person killing herself. In telling her story, which happens to also be a exposure of the history of her immediate family, as truthfully as possible, Diane puts a very human and raw face on how obsessed women can become with body image.

I wish I could say I was immune to body obsession, but I'm not. And I'd guess that anybody who makes athletics a priority in their life isn't either. True, not everybody falls as hard as Diane and some of her interviewees--a bodybuilder who used steriods, a spinning instructor, with about 5% body fat, who still can't see her body for the amazing one it is--but I'd bet the film resonates more deeply with many female athletes than they'd like to admit. I know I was uncomfortable in scenes, in the same way that walking by a homeless person asking for change makes me feel. I know the situation is wrong, and I want to help, I'll be damned if I know even where to being tackling it.

While I grunt through the plank pose, I look down at my stomach and am less than pleased with the sag left from carrying two nearly 10-pound babies. Rationally, I know I should celebrate the fact that I could carry two healthy 10-pounders to term, but I'm not always rational. When I have to squeeze my thighs into size 14 jeans, I curse my legs, which can run a marathon, not the dumb designer jeans. (Why does it matter what the tag on my jeans says? I wish I knew.) Somebody else might wonder, as they run, if their quads will ever stop jiggling;somebody else hates that they have thick ankles or big boobs or small boobs or turkey-wing triceps or whatever is the despised body part du jour. Running and other sports have immediate, tangible benefits, and tasting those can lead you down a slippery slope thinking that if you run harder or spin faster or just do one more set of squats, you'll be fixed and whole and somehow, a better person.

After being forced out of triathlons--her body literally could not stand anymore--Diane became a psychotherapist, which is perfect for her: she's intelligent, funny and engaging--the kind of person who you can instantly connect with upon first meeting her. I imagine she's healed many people through her practice. This film, which has a few showings on the east coast in late April (and hopefully many more in the future), has the potential to help many, many more. See it if you can.

Dimity

Random things that made me smile

2008-03-10T18:39:00.000-07:00

1. A six-mile run yesterday--my first in about a week--where I felt invincible. The sun was shining, the wind was low, I had new music on my nano. I swear, if I didn't know better, I was helping turn the earth on its rotation with every stride I took. (And yes, I was striding--not plain old running.) If I'm lucky, I have running nirvana once every six months, and it's rare it happens after a dry spell like this one did. Makes me remember why I struggle on all the other days.

2. The aforementioned music. My new favorite song: Can you Read my Mind by The Killers. (New to lame-o me--it's probably been out for at least a year, given how jetlagged my music preferences are.) The lyric that resonated with me: "I don't mind if you don't mind, because I don't shine if you don't shine." No idea what the deeper context of that is, but it just works for me.

3. Daylight savings time. Not a fan of having the kids up an hour after their normal bedtimes, but it felt so wonderful this morning to roll over, see 7 a.m. on the clock and still be in bed--rarer than a day without a time-out in this house. Even better: a 30-minute run tonight, where I started after 6 p.m. in the light of day. (Read: no more dreadmill!) I can't smell spring's smells yet, but an evening run makes me know they're on the way.

4. After Pre-K today, Amelia tells me, "Hailey said something not nice to me today." I brace myself for "I don't want to be your friend," or "Ella doesn't like you, only me," or some variation on the queen-bee cattiness that I know will materialize sooner than later. "She said we couldn't have a wiener dog vet office," Amelia explains, "Only one for beagles." Phew. Dodged that people-can-suck talk for another round.

5. Headed to Captiva Island tomorrow, on the Gulf of Mexico side of Florida, for a much-needed week with my immediate and extended family. After a hellish travel day--a 4-hour layover in Houston, where I'm sure we'll kill time in the TGI Fridays eating monster fries--I can't wait to dig for coquina shells with Amelia during the day and critique the American Idol contestants with my mom at night. I love waking up early and running with the ocean next to me--on the pavement, not the sand, which is way too hard-core for my legs--knowing that the rest of the day, my hardest task will be chasing after Ben as he beelines for the ocean. After too many weeks of deadlines, pulling together our taxes and feeling generally exhausted, I can easily handle that.