tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21586060732345571692024-02-06T19:31:57.305-08:00Marathon MomsSarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-39345435634903024592010-02-22T10:28:00.001-08:002010-02-22T10:35:42.809-08:00Please Follow Me to www.RunLikeAMotherBook.com<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKJ2e6yfGJu3mOhZTPo3EdHPO-rL9h-MVRAWSzkOniKoVHWMt47zprU2G8Ekq4MnGNHixSbmykYGoW8b0L4J4lRgzXckwC9PVG6bePLPTsZSmr8S2kqj1kGhz_1dE6L38h5DeiddrCHvm/s1600-h/coverfinal%5B1%5D.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 156px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441136731811322002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKJ2e6yfGJu3mOhZTPo3EdHPO-rL9h-MVRAWSzkOniKoVHWMt47zprU2G8Ekq4MnGNHixSbmykYGoW8b0L4J4lRgzXckwC9PVG6bePLPTsZSmr8S2kqj1kGhz_1dE6L38h5DeiddrCHvm/s200/coverfinal%5B1%5D.png" /></a> Today's a big step in a long journey that Dimity and I have been on together: The <a href="http://www.runlikeamotherbook.com/">website </a>for our book went live today. With only a month until our book hits stores nationwide (you can already <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0740785354/ref=s9_simi_gw_p14_t1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=0P4MTZ9KMRRYHZGP7RHQ&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=470938631&pf_rd_i=507846">pre-order it </a>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 <a href="http://www.runlikeamotherbook.com/">new site</a>. Please join the conversation!<br /><br />-SBSSarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-44621350466896578872010-02-11T13:47:00.001-08:002010-02-11T14:14:10.616-08:00My Newest Secret Weapons<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGIy0z6IakXb9oBvTsC5oVsLL97uxDl3erEdEkRcL9vC36laNOz10HcjmACAkEZihiGM8O-BBHPmWOUmhQ1eh-TD9W8Kc3BWEZF3DI1eMU-NLNvk_9LBXW10e_OZHDuKGUUJw-msvdMLq/s1600-h/shoes+and+mouthpiece.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437112610372030610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGIy0z6IakXb9oBvTsC5oVsLL97uxDl3erEdEkRcL9vC36laNOz10HcjmACAkEZihiGM8O-BBHPmWOUmhQ1eh-TD9W8Kc3BWEZF3DI1eMU-NLNvk_9LBXW10e_OZHDuKGUUJw-msvdMLq/s200/shoes+and+mouthpiece.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div>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 <a href="http://www.realsimple.com/food-recipes/browse-all-recipes/chicken-enchiladas-green-salsa-10000001817849/index.html">easy chicken enchiladas recipe</a> my pal Dana sent me. </div><br /><div></div><div>As for me, I debuted a new pair of speedwork shoes this week--<a href="http://www.asicsamerica.com/products/product.aspx?PRODUCT_ID=240012920&TITLE_CATEGORY_ID=250001549&PARENT_CATEGORY_ID=250001547">Asics GEL-DS Trainer 15s</a>. They provide the moderate stability I need, but are lighter and faster than my current <a href="http://www.asicsamerica.com/products/product.aspx?PRODUCT_ID=240012921&TITLE_CATEGORY_ID=250001549&PARENT_CATEGORY_ID=250001547">everyday shoes</a>. 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. </div><br /><div></div><div>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. </div><div></div><br /><div>And my other secret weapon? I am not going to spill too much, but it is a <a href="http://www.underarmour.com/shop/us/en/accessories?&cid=PSGoogle&campaign=[*KeywordID*]">mouthpiece </a>I'm testing for an article in <em>Runner's World</em>. 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. </div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div></div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-10967539523990062362010-02-08T12:03:00.000-08:002010-02-08T13:37:59.793-08:00What a Difference a Week Makes!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mV89Ve3DJ9qcD8ANUp2sRi1f6f1POAW1_JqXO8JLpuNKZZo9a1-qSHjMSeuyhLkIals8-wRkjjm5nceje_rgn3ZYD8n1qLJWugaOinWhGelUxDG70dHjeUkScmzX_kHYDhyphenhyphencv3mPAvcA/s1600-h/Kiddos+sleeping.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435989972199198322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mV89Ve3DJ9qcD8ANUp2sRi1f6f1POAW1_JqXO8JLpuNKZZo9a1-qSHjMSeuyhLkIals8-wRkjjm5nceje_rgn3ZYD8n1qLJWugaOinWhGelUxDG70dHjeUkScmzX_kHYDhyphenhyphencv3mPAvcA/s200/Kiddos+sleeping.jpg" /></a><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div>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. (<em>See the sleeping kiddos, above</em>.)</div><br /><div></div><div>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, <em>many</em> 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. </div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-84697194930222097612010-02-01T14:32:00.000-08:002010-02-01T14:45:54.825-08:00Training for Big Sur Has Officially Begun<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Or0RR7lK4ca2p1l_bmeaAtFsXEHg3XeBoogm9BUNSv7Mkx8vIznEgYpIPmxHkWIDhFKDGpI2cwk8hk23YcaNzoiTMsSrBZyu-jHGGT2RQ_V1rv7eLtBhzL_0cuU46-ycK38YGGlAiihU/s1600-h/behind8ball_small.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 167px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433409968770365346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Or0RR7lK4ca2p1l_bmeaAtFsXEHg3XeBoogm9BUNSv7Mkx8vIznEgYpIPmxHkWIDhFKDGpI2cwk8hk23YcaNzoiTMsSrBZyu-jHGGT2RQ_V1rv7eLtBhzL_0cuU46-ycK38YGGlAiihU/s200/behind8ball_small.gif" /></a><br /><div>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 <a href="http://www.bsim.org/">Big Sur Marathon</a>, 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! </div><br /><div></div><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>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????)</div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-24775286722110928772010-01-28T17:48:00.000-08:002010-01-28T18:04:09.087-08:00Talk About Dull!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgYrUdsTY-ggX05XYah4IrgXmhgAINN6F4XILjmA5F8igVXfUWzYg9_ewzkoJ-sjXsDpN7Q512cSD9LZaJR2br-u8Go0Rrep6m74Zso0SHmfTDOZ7YRCvK3WlVSPtAWv6DB9UjI64dK-7/s1600-h/stoop.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431976607314186866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgYrUdsTY-ggX05XYah4IrgXmhgAINN6F4XILjmA5F8igVXfUWzYg9_ewzkoJ-sjXsDpN7Q512cSD9LZaJR2br-u8Go0Rrep6m74Zso0SHmfTDOZ7YRCvK3WlVSPtAWv6DB9UjI64dK-7/s200/stoop.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Another just-had-to-share story. Steve and his daughter's tale was inspiring. This one from the Metropolitan Diary in Monday's <em>NYT </em>is stultifying. I applaud the commitment to running, but venture forth! (I have <em>italicized</em> the part I can't fathom.)</div><br /><div></div><div>"<em>For 20 years, I ran 10 laps around my West Village block every day</em>. I usually ran in the morning before work, but occasionally had to wait until evening. </div><div></div><br /><div>"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?'</div><br /><div></div><div>"Before I could say a word, her companion answered, 'No, she has one more to go.'</div><div></div><br /><div>"Needless to say, I went on to complete the full 10 laps." </div><br /><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-58687447950899245402010-01-25T12:16:00.000-08:002010-01-25T12:27:01.913-08:00A Proud Marathon Dad<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0uPZXoxmFHhXgZBkeqS1Lh7Dd9pNlzSx6it7s57putaC1tsNcVqHl9qDYWodx1CBVbgArPiTyQmtAHv6TU6C_uH8SzWS1EJzV_1mun4p8OpdTjY7rY5vbdxE_MUasILFxUZbzbl1sDJZv/s1600-h/Steve+and+Jennifer+Livermore.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430774492491083666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0uPZXoxmFHhXgZBkeqS1Lh7Dd9pNlzSx6it7s57putaC1tsNcVqHl9qDYWodx1CBVbgArPiTyQmtAHv6TU6C_uH8SzWS1EJzV_1mun4p8OpdTjY7rY5vbdxE_MUasILFxUZbzbl1sDJZv/s200/Steve+and+Jennifer+Livermore.jpg" /></a> 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:<br /><br />"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!"<br /><br />I know I daydream about sharing something so special with one (or all!) of my children.<br /><br />-SBSSarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-75862470600738382182010-01-20T17:16:00.000-08:002010-01-20T17:19:26.912-08:00NYT Gear Test: iPhone Holders<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0Rz15YqrmOG2Nkf5K9tzFpaxllrs6bVlZRMzoiCbPiBlAGYKoYAySfyBNwKtbgveWxRCrY9052zFNna-XnYv5cnctbE_VtovP3wGhlDXtQvJtFEMkD6q-HaSPZIMBJwJjkwvSD1OLmT-/s1600-h/Ralph+Destino.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 132px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428996399625083922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0Rz15YqrmOG2Nkf5K9tzFpaxllrs6bVlZRMzoiCbPiBlAGYKoYAySfyBNwKtbgveWxRCrY9052zFNna-XnYv5cnctbE_VtovP3wGhlDXtQvJtFEMkD6q-HaSPZIMBJwJjkwvSD1OLmT-/s200/Ralph+Destino.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I'm proud of my first New York Times <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/01/20/fashion/20100121-physical-slideshow_index.html">story </a>in 2010 so had to share. If you're old school, look for it in paper tomorrow. </div><div></div><br /><div>Off for trade show and cold-weather, altitude running in Salt Lake City. Here's hoping for no lung-wrecking inversion! </div><br /><div></div><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-74223193721015694142010-01-18T15:10:00.000-08:002010-01-18T15:35:19.350-08:00New Half Marathon PR1:46:14 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I wasn't <em>that</em> 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.<br /><br />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+.<br /><br />-SBSSarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-28473693462298689832010-01-15T14:43:00.001-08:002010-01-15T15:11:45.802-08:00Faster But Not WiserThis 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.<br /><br />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."<br /><br />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 <em>way</em> 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.<br /><br />An excellent affirmation to have before Sunday's race!<br /><br />-SBSSarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-60487748013627263742010-01-13T10:13:00.000-08:002010-01-13T10:35:54.691-08:00Talk, Not Tunes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadYpQUFmcN3iDQ0-G4JCJ01XxVxJhiv6lZq_Z2c74MuPsCGOzXRPAgdzLhrSK8eOBvvwTNvDQJKxk02-GV3FWtyh-r3M9tZOVS8uya-tBjMg-dkUrSPSlySwKw_DD6wS6BJ1cV5WdXSli/s1600-h/Pablo-Picasso-Two-women-running-an-the-beach-83751.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 154px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426294615777462322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadYpQUFmcN3iDQ0-G4JCJ01XxVxJhiv6lZq_Z2c74MuPsCGOzXRPAgdzLhrSK8eOBvvwTNvDQJKxk02-GV3FWtyh-r3M9tZOVS8uya-tBjMg-dkUrSPSlySwKw_DD6wS6BJ1cV5WdXSli/s200/Pablo-Picasso-Two-women-running-an-the-beach-83751.jpg" /></a><br /><div>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 <em>done</em>. 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. </div><br /><div></div><div>On Saturday, I did 10 miles--my final long run before Sunday's <a href="http://www.wvroadrunners.org/cascadehalf/">half-marathon</a>--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 <em>smidgen</em> 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 <a href="http://www.apple.com/ipodnano/">new nano</a>, 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. </div><div></div><br /><div>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! </div><br /><div></div><div>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.)</div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-79480742676208640852010-01-06T11:30:00.000-08:002010-01-06T12:44:19.298-08:00Should I Start 2010 with a Clean Fridge?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_HBZPQ3LR7mJxsGOnik4k_PR1SOKtHEJx-crdmxLx9pjm8uu17yUXIFIro8hyphenhyphenXL3rl7SQHIOMyTW4e897PTZvIlRhQDVZ2o2PDrDdKf3GrwP0z9lBWmt_5thyphenhyphengmN4lDVEAPuFsPUwflE/s1600-h/1140.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423712613512534130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_HBZPQ3LR7mJxsGOnik4k_PR1SOKtHEJx-crdmxLx9pjm8uu17yUXIFIro8hyphenhyphenXL3rl7SQHIOMyTW4e897PTZvIlRhQDVZ2o2PDrDdKf3GrwP0z9lBWmt_5thyphenhyphengmN4lDVEAPuFsPUwflE/s200/1140.JPG" /></a><br /><div>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. </div><div> </div><div></div><div>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. </div><div> </div><div></div><div>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 <a href="http://www.nestle.ca/en/products/brands/Nesquik/chocolate_milk_shake.htm">Nesquik</a>. It was handed to me by a bouncy volunteer in the finish area of the <a href="http://www.eugenemarathon.com/">Eugene Marathon </a>as I hobbled around on my thrashed legs. The gal handed me two of them--I must have looked in need of something, <em>anything</em>--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. </div><div> </div><div></div><div>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 <a href="http://bsim.org/site3.aspx">my next 26.2-miler</a>, I'm thinking it might be time. </div><div> </div><div></div><div>What do <em>you</em> think? </div><div><br />-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-32116884280379155392010-01-04T16:32:00.000-08:002010-01-04T16:34:37.448-08:00Survey about Activity and Psychological TransformationI 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, <a href="http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/movemore">take the survey </a>or pass it along to your active friends.Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-55851939727405297132010-01-01T11:39:00.000-08:002010-01-01T11:56:28.974-08:00A Stronger New Year<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3_zQd7GcOdLnUbUxj6jMX7O7iByMnd2r2KZmmQhci3xqPiIAaUzUBSkB17I2mn-jxjWwo4NWARyDr3BUjuYR7JS11K5TCKX5GQn3HFLa63GXJ_RZRXR6wiUj25g3xpP5UR7qkCYDmhhO/s1600-h/iPod+girl+rocking+out.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 107px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 130px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421861844880534738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3_zQd7GcOdLnUbUxj6jMX7O7iByMnd2r2KZmmQhci3xqPiIAaUzUBSkB17I2mn-jxjWwo4NWARyDr3BUjuYR7JS11K5TCKX5GQn3HFLa63GXJ_RZRXR6wiUj25g3xpP5UR7qkCYDmhhO/s200/iPod+girl+rocking+out.jpg" /></a><br /><div>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." </div><br /><div></div><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>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. </div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-40293674115899745662009-12-22T15:42:00.000-08:002009-12-22T15:49:05.566-08:00Fit or Fiction?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZvkeZ0ub5vmFk4wvuuOWVurEf3jnzmvcpKYWO7Kbh3OYN-CB7Dwq2W4DI-agl8YCeqckHsSIgg1qYPv4haZJHJ-MBKHkYQoqSQtjQ8MXAhTHjVwN0d_h2nPIAIzJyVGg_QIIVpNS6mF_/s1600-h/myth+busted.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 130px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 63px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418211664121469682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZvkeZ0ub5vmFk4wvuuOWVurEf3jnzmvcpKYWO7Kbh3OYN-CB7Dwq2W4DI-agl8YCeqckHsSIgg1qYPv4haZJHJ-MBKHkYQoqSQtjQ8MXAhTHjVwN0d_h2nPIAIzJyVGg_QIIVpNS6mF_/s200/myth+busted.jpg" /></a> <div>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:</div><div></div><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>Email: <a href="mailto:lizzyfit@aol.com">lizzyfit@aol.com</a> or tweet at <a href="mailto:lizzyfit@twitter">lizzyfit@twitter</a></div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-85111168971976150712009-12-21T13:54:00.000-08:002009-12-21T14:35:03.042-08:00Time to Cajole the Husband<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtsOnWlXI4dNHLeYLtSNvAYoDhUjgSh6Rj3Nb-AJdKqh7NXOZu1xtGfWSgvYGjp3MTrwvQgbCRWlmu9Qu5IWn1kcoEYPlbWhtGwBMn11-L8CdwdekVQ3SXbAOzD0f6elK1euRnXL_iUwP/s1600-h/Big+Sur+Bridge+2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 96px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417820697336475330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtsOnWlXI4dNHLeYLtSNvAYoDhUjgSh6Rj3Nb-AJdKqh7NXOZu1xtGfWSgvYGjp3MTrwvQgbCRWlmu9Qu5IWn1kcoEYPlbWhtGwBMn11-L8CdwdekVQ3SXbAOzD0f6elK1euRnXL_iUwP/s200/Big+Sur+Bridge+2.jpg" /></a><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>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--<a href="http://www.bsim.org/">Big Sur</a> 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." </div><div></div><br /><div>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 <em>Runner's World</em> 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. </div><br /><div></div><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>I'm pleased to see my <em>cajoling </em>worked as I'd hoped. </div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div><br /><div></div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-20662842927986407852009-12-17T20:07:00.000-08:002009-12-17T20:20:27.269-08:00SBS Two-fer in New York Times<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lwMOHeRB6NhfOU9HULbQc10tf8FVQCE5_rXwDppnLo_1coGkk0S6rKmjaOnA87kha6A9RFsHTXizrrSMOCyZBnJwLo-n6ptNd4pUTaoV3LyRbxapnB3Q5Uz580qh-1u9nxkihXEPWlnp/s1600-h/mouthpieces.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 154px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416426176317312498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lwMOHeRB6NhfOU9HULbQc10tf8FVQCE5_rXwDppnLo_1coGkk0S6rKmjaOnA87kha6A9RFsHTXizrrSMOCyZBnJwLo-n6ptNd4pUTaoV3LyRbxapnB3Q5Uz580qh-1u9nxkihXEPWlnp/s200/mouthpieces.jpg" /></a>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 <em>New York Times</em>. 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.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Uh, that was 12+ hours ago! Another busy workweek...</div><br /><div></div><div>Better late than never, right? Here's <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/17/health/nutrition/17fitness.html?scp=1&sq=Makkar&st=cse">one on performance mouthpieces </a>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 <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2009/12/17/fashion/20091217-socks-slideshow_index.html?scp=1&sq=yoga%20socks&st=cse">yoga socks article</a> 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. </div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-39991351767852538442009-12-10T18:02:00.000-08:002009-12-10T18:41:30.996-08:00Thomas Hardy Said It Best<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-Sb5yreU1k3p9v5UIuWorE9XZDcl4Ukv4WNq4yFk3JRm-nyyQCVy8NZNHX7GKzKz98Vj9cgGK2ZGjT_CmRBQqGnO0NPC_ZPFtu9JdDen63kHgLWGygx02O9XJJGwj_CAkGts-wBpcSiO/s1600-h/Tess"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 106px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413796899276652418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-Sb5yreU1k3p9v5UIuWorE9XZDcl4Ukv4WNq4yFk3JRm-nyyQCVy8NZNHX7GKzKz98Vj9cgGK2ZGjT_CmRBQqGnO0NPC_ZPFtu9JdDen63kHgLWGygx02O9XJJGwj_CAkGts-wBpcSiO/s200/Tess" /></a><br /><div>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 <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/DUrbervilles-Signet-Classics-Thomas-Hardy/dp/0451530276/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260497961&sr=1-8">Tess of the d'Urbervilles</a></em>, 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! </div><br /><div></div><div>"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." </div><div></div><br /><div>Something to contemplate as the sky pinks up on your next pre-dawn run. </div><div> </div><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-69520993932639051562009-11-30T17:16:00.000-08:002009-11-30T17:19:48.881-08:004,500 Days of Running and CountingAh, 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 <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/11/30/DDBA1AF6U9.DTL">this article </a>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.<br /><br />-SBSSarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-28502174550647670722009-11-30T10:32:00.000-08:002009-11-30T10:59:48.221-08:00Pajamas in the Daytime<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQo-_ySA-GCPcKsEOCMGKjeC1ZcXIX3zV9PJI4lGxBP2vq36bohSJ8ObvEcdoAMPB0qJZaQTueCBnXEEF-MX3z99z7-OUgu8DihuSTypu5_VIEaBBRN_O9TlhnEBUyuCzglhqeF1KWwMs/s1600/sick%2520girl%2520-%2520cartoon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409973244159401362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 191px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 161px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQo-_ySA-GCPcKsEOCMGKjeC1ZcXIX3zV9PJI4lGxBP2vq36bohSJ8ObvEcdoAMPB0qJZaQTueCBnXEEF-MX3z99z7-OUgu8DihuSTypu5_VIEaBBRN_O9TlhnEBUyuCzglhqeF1KWwMs/s200/sick%2520girl%2520-%2520cartoon.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>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.</div><br /><div></div><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>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 <a href="http://www.wvroadrunners.org/cascadehalf/">mid-January half-marathon</a>. Along with my temperature, my attitude is back to normal, too. </div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-25232582614207532412009-11-25T13:25:00.001-08:002009-11-25T13:32:41.353-08:00What Are Friends For?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbB4m012pzpQbfEQNIU7uR_kykxw-7JWd4pigPEiSDNw-BbI2FLQ1-xFYDRj5KAR0rXFHB1nh4EoKYdaufrzGcm00Uh7Nqyoz3j0rrp90R1krZF8GoTpnHgZIqlr9cjbAJuuR-lwQ6-CT/s1600/toilet+paper.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408157239521603282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 121px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 121px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbB4m012pzpQbfEQNIU7uR_kykxw-7JWd4pigPEiSDNw-BbI2FLQ1-xFYDRj5KAR0rXFHB1nh4EoKYdaufrzGcm00Uh7Nqyoz3j0rrp90R1krZF8GoTpnHgZIqlr9cjbAJuuR-lwQ6-CT/s200/toilet+paper.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>"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.</div><div></div><br /><div>Yes, I'm assuming you would have told me."</div><br /><div></div><div>Let's all be thankful for the friends in our lives who would tell us that toilet paper was sticking out of our capris!</div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-6952533663920270632009-11-23T11:29:00.000-08:002009-11-23T11:48:18.981-08:00Muddy BuddiesI 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 <a href="http://www.trails.com/tcatalog_trail.aspx?trailid=HGW267-004">Leif Erikson Drive</a>, 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?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />-SBSSarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-38340636566635616432009-11-15T09:48:00.000-08:002009-11-15T10:00:35.612-08:00Hills Don't Have to be Hell<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSMWRCmO0MXZdvhS0E55CrkM67jKl3KmKeRMtV7jF1LtXmZ434XXWFjphzXeJbSwQaw-ggwkPHiNco2PWNucO9citClWw-RUtaAvY8ijAMgJpo1co_uc0-jycQ61qazBhRvGOEMPTecYNL/s1600-h/running-up-hill.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404391713730947890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSMWRCmO0MXZdvhS0E55CrkM67jKl3KmKeRMtV7jF1LtXmZ434XXWFjphzXeJbSwQaw-ggwkPHiNco2PWNucO9citClWw-RUtaAvY8ijAMgJpo1co_uc0-jycQ61qazBhRvGOEMPTecYNL/s200/running-up-hill.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>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. </div><div></div><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-15250982594299542172009-11-06T16:09:00.000-08:002009-11-06T16:48:05.419-08:00End of the Racing Season Part I<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ln0VxFWV427ZUleM42wfg8YLb33yk3KJpZKjSMG1d5DFpRaHiDWkS4iRAhplHxuwzBfJHqek4_TXFD1z7rm4TeNCa981vdXODYuQXzeUpEpobfhzupphWUlpnhkzBDDkjCkagJx31PRx/s1600-h/Sue+Sylvester+and+her+cheerios.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401156120138472722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ln0VxFWV427ZUleM42wfg8YLb33yk3KJpZKjSMG1d5DFpRaHiDWkS4iRAhplHxuwzBfJHqek4_TXFD1z7rm4TeNCa981vdXODYuQXzeUpEpobfhzupphWUlpnhkzBDDkjCkagJx31PRx/s200/Sue+Sylvester+and+her+cheerios.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><div>And now it's come to an end. </div><div></div><br /><div>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, <a href="http://www.fox.com/glee/"><em>Glee</em></a>. (Yes, that's me as Coach Sue Sylvester on Halloween with my burgeoning Cheerios!) </div><br /><div></div><div>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 <em>Glee</em>-fueled run, I paused to watch the sun rise next to majestic Mount Hood. </div><br /><div></div><div>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 <a href="http://www.wvroadrunners.org/cascadehalf/">Cascade Half Marathon </a>in mid-January. But, who knows, maybe I'll just cue up "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_MWT1QCIbs">Can't Fight This Feeling</a>" for the hundredth time and go for a just-for-the-hell-of-it run along the river. </div><br /><div></div><div>-SBS</div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-41730940527846511222009-10-29T12:03:00.000-07:002009-10-29T12:08:01.939-07:00Pushing Past the Pain of Exertion<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQwAOg__oVPcjOVDeT3APQikf5MpzYtr8mxGApOfAW1_soHAUQ62DIULPY30v0o3mSsRngSoc6ixcMnkpybOL5LcUcoXQU5lDHeKPb-LulU-Ars2V0KqY1ZQrxny92I8_DxyttsaQRa94t/s1600-h/kara-goucher-finishes-third-place-in-first-marathon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398100720660588194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQwAOg__oVPcjOVDeT3APQikf5MpzYtr8mxGApOfAW1_soHAUQ62DIULPY30v0o3mSsRngSoc6ixcMnkpybOL5LcUcoXQU5lDHeKPb-LulU-Ars2V0KqY1ZQrxny92I8_DxyttsaQRa94t/s200/kara-goucher-finishes-third-place-in-first-marathon.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Sorry, folks, I always have to share when I have a fitness feature in the <em>New York Times</em>. This <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/29/fashion/29FITNESS.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=sarah%20bowen%20shea&st=cse">article </a>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. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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. </div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2158606073234557169.post-57703207897416450382009-10-26T16:03:00.000-07:002009-10-26T16:30:31.484-07:00Note to Self: Look Forward to Challenges<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIHucxr3CKPZrJd5Ts3wuZc0D6HELC3H9OL7yu7B44lhyG0mEwO6ztWHau0cMkZBKjzUXoZH4BNSuMIR_U_2PgHa6REiOOsjzMZxrqqxg3CSk9Nl0KMoW86kITqYOjn4whoePREll5pvp/s1600-h/reading+at+Powell%27s.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397054990219786418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIHucxr3CKPZrJd5Ts3wuZc0D6HELC3H9OL7yu7B44lhyG0mEwO6ztWHau0cMkZBKjzUXoZH4BNSuMIR_U_2PgHa6REiOOsjzMZxrqqxg3CSk9Nl0KMoW86kITqYOjn4whoePREll5pvp/s200/reading+at+Powell%27s.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div>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!</div><br /><div></div><div>Two weeks ago, I took part in a reading from an anthology I contributed to called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/P-S-What-I-Didnt-Say/dp/1580052908">P.S. What I Didn't Say: Unsent Letters to Our Female Friends</a>. 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!" </div><br /><div></div><div>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.</div><br /><div></div><div>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 <em>New York Times</em> 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." </div><br /><div></div><div>Right on, Chrissie. Right on. </div><div></div><br /><div>-SBS</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Sarah Bowen Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09825453914105581222noreply@blogger.com3