An interesting thing about “blogging” is choosing the title name for each blog entry. It usually will have something to do with the so-called theme of that entry or at least be the topic that ties up your general, and perhaps wandering, thoughts. I vacillated around on the title of this entry before settling on this (perhaps a bit seemingly boring) title. Each other the three profiled runs in this segment are 5 miles or longer, thus qualifying them as long runs. Or at least longer than my usual 3 or 4 milers. Hence “Long(er) Distance.” As always, I hope you enjoy these entries and can appreciate the context.
Day 234: Running with my Beloved “Back pack”
Since I started running I have been looking for the perfect option for carrying water with me on my longer runs. Normally I do not need water on a run unless its 6 miles or longer, but with trail running you work harder, sweat more, and need more water a hellvah lot sooner. In all this time I have tried many water belts and hand-held bottles, but nothing quite fit right. The water belt would ride up or give me welts on my back and hips. The hand-held bottles (I’ve gone through 3) all felt scratchy and weird and having to hear the water sloshing around, always makes me feel like I need to make a pit stop. I had seen the water backpacks in different camping and running stores, but they were always pricey. I ended up buying a low end one that just turned into a backpack I used around town. I would always look at the beautiful, perfectly-shaped Camelbaks, with their slender shoulder straps and ample pouch for the water bladder (please note that from here on out, I’ll probably just call it a bladder) that would hang evenly and securely between one’s shoulder blades. I desired one the way most girls’ yearn for a pair of Manolo Blahnik heels (very very expensive fancy NY style women’s shoes). I very rarely am interested in a fancy dress, nice shoes or a purse, but you stick me in a running shop and I drool. I would always go over to the Camelbaks and touch the different styles, wishing I could blow a bunch of money on the perfect one. But I couldn’t and didn’t and thus had to settle for second rate water carrying items feeling all bitter inside about it.
Then finally after years of wanting and not being able to have, I was given my first Camelbak. It very much was love at first sight. The pack is blue and silver, small, thin, and sporty. It can fit a liter and a half of water in the bladder. Perfect for my small back and untrained shoulders. It also has a little pouch that can fit a cell phone, a small power bar, or a (very smushed) sandwich. The pack meant even more to me because it was a birthday present from my boyfriend. For me, gifts of utility and function (and that I so very much want) are appreciated that much more. After receiving said gift, I was so excited for my first long run with my new pack. On Wednesday, I got the chance. I knew that if I woke up early and could actually get out of bed on time, I would have time for a longer run and thus would need to run with my pack. I filled up the bladder with water, tossed in a half of an Elixir lemon-lime electrolyte tablet, and shook the pack profusely (of course this was after I securely fastened the screw-on top). Then I let it sit over night and hoped that I’d be an early riser the next morning.
The following morning I woke up about 5 seconds before the unpleasant ringing noises of the four alarms I set went off. Determined to go for my long run with my new pack, I quickly got out of bed and turned on all the lights. Within minutes I was dressed and ready to go, adjusting the shoulder straps on my new Camelbak while munching on a power bar (*As a side note,I found this brand of power bars, gummy snacks, gels, etc. called “Honey Stinger” and it’s made with real honey and they are DELICIOUS. I make it a point to tell my readers (all 5 of you) about things I enjoy or find useful so they can check it out and possibly use it. The Dark Chocolate Coconut Almond Protein bar is my absolute favorite.*) So I set out for a 4 mile run. I figured I’d see how I was feeling around mile 3.5 and if it was good, I’d extend the run to 5 miles; if it was bad, I would head home and top off the run at 4. So I headed out on the ‘along the road’ route which takes me up a massive hill, through town, and then loops back along the edge of two towns, to the trail that take me home.
Some of the Runner’s World articles I have read, have touched on the importance of naming a route and how you relate to that route. I get that, and I like the concept, but I think I have found one running-related thing that I am not good at: naming my routes. I use Map My Run to (duh) map my runs and routes so I know where I’ve gone and planning for the future routes. The other day I was looking at the names of my routes and realized how lame they are: “Easy 3 Miler,” “Camelbak 5,” “6 in NOVA,” and “Holey Cow Long Run.” I was honestly pretty embarrassed at the lack of creativity of my nick-named routes. When I read the names of runner’s routes in these articles, they have such interesting names for the trails/routes they run: “Country Club,” “Willow Tree Hills,” “Dog Loop,” “Backwards,” “Round the Hood,” “Up and To the Left,” “Bunny Hill Doubles,” and “Spyglass Hill.” It impresses me that runners are so creative. If I think back about some of my runs (not necessarily the routes) these are some of best ways to describe them (read as: my attempt to be creative): “I Can’t See Through This Rain 12 Miler,” “5K: Sprinting like a Marine,” “Leaving It All Behind 10 Miler,” “Virgin Trails,” “Too Little, Too Late 15 Miler,” “Hill of Death,” “The 7 mile Monumental DC Run,” and “Don’t Forget To Breathe Out and Back Loops.” I think if I named every run, we’d be here forever. Before I knew it I had passed my halfway point and was heading toward, what I have now affectionately named, the “Breathless Hills Series.” Just for clarification here, that name has nothing to do with the view. For about 2 miles and change the road weaves up and down over the land. I am not talking about immense elevation changes, but it’s still enough to leave you without lungs at the top of each hill. I am of the mindset to charge up each hill and either coast slowly down the other side or walk down. I am not a wuss; this is an extremely common practice among trail/ultra runners.
After the hills series, the road curved around more and I found myself speeding up as I cruised down my second to last hill. But even with the thrill of the ups and downs, what I was loving most about this run was how I never felt dehydrated or thirsty. Every time my brain said, “Ugh water, please,” the Camelbak had my back. This running-water-backpack is phenomenal. If you are smaller, like me, it fits perfectly in the crook between you shoulders. I twist my water hose bit around the front so it operates like a front clip as well as providing ease of drinking. I also tied the straps around my sternum so that they don’t flop all over and the pack feels secure. I don’t know why but everyone has their thing that once they do that thing, they feel like a “real” runner. For some people it’s running a longer distance race, for others its buying the clothes or getting the race T-shirt, for some it’s the scraps, bruises, and cuts, and then for others its just this feeling you get at some random point and you’re like, “oh shit, I’m a runner.” For me that feeling came on this run, and to be honest I am pretty sure it was the Camelbak was what did it. I no longer felt like an outsider trying to grapple my way into the crowd. I realized that I know all about running form and training, the best clothes, shoes, and gear, I understand a lot of the science behind the way the body functions while running, and I finally get it all. Charging up my last (extremely steep) hill, I realized that I finally found my niche, my clique, my group. I’ll always get along with all of the other groups of people, but finally I found my group. Finally I could say this is who I am and believe it; I am a runner.
Day 237: Turning 24 and Celebrating with a (duh!) Run
On September 4th, 24 years ago at 2:01 pm, I was born. I was new and at the complete beginning. I breathed my own air, I cried (I’m sure, a lot), my heart beat on its own for the first time. Twenty-four years later I have learned a good amount about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. I have learned how to learn, how to make mistakes, how to pick myself back up after I fall down, how to play piano, how to make friends, how to fix things when they break, how to communicate, how to laugh when I wanted to cry, and how to run. I know I have plenty more to learn, but I’m glad that thus far I’ve learned so much. I get why people like going out for their birthday with their friends and partying, but I like going home, to my roots, for that day. I like remembering who I was and where I came from, so I can come to terms with who I am and where I am going.
A little before my birthday this year, I realized I wanted some way to commemorate that I’ve made it (in one piece and still smiling) this far. So what better way for a runner to commemorate the passing of another year, but to run it in miles? I’ve heard of runners doing this before, so when the idea hit me I thought, ‘Oh this is a good one.’ I knew there was no way I could prepare on such short notice for a run quite that long, so I made a compromise. Instead of running 24 miles, I would run 2 sets of 4 mile runs; the first run would be in the morning and the second in the afternoon. I also promised myself that next year (at age 25), I would run 25 miles. I was really excited about this idea, mainly because I knew that 8 miles would be a decently easy run for me and would be fun. My dad agreed to run the first 4 with me and my brother would bike next to me for the second set of 4 miles. My mom would have run the second 4 with me, but she was very busy cooking me the most amazing birthday dinner and dessert. I liked that I would be spending both my birthday weekend and the 2 runs with family. The fact that I can share my running with all them means the world to me.
The first set was to be at Heckscher State Park on the Great South Bay side of Long Island, NY. I like this park; the loop around the park is just a little over 4 miles and much of it is run alongside the bay. Most of the times my dad and I are going to do a longer run together we come here. We’ve run 4, 6, 8, and 12 miles in this park on many different occasions. Usually while I was in the midst of training, but sometimes also during my “off” seasons. As my dad and I drove up to the parking lot and the beginning of every one of our runs, I felt nostalgia start to seep in. How many times had I run here with my dad? How many stories have we told each other while running this route? How has my life changed since we started running here? I felt like the sun warming my skin on the chilly windy day was wiping me clean and as if to say another day, another run, another year. I tossed my dad’s keys into the small pouch in my wonderful Camelbak and we were off.
Our loop started at a comfortable pace, passing the bay on our right and under tended, over grown beach parking lots on the left. We grazed over our usual topics running along enjoying each other’s company. I spent much of the time explaining to my dad about the articles I would like to write about running and my expanding ideas. He responded with comments, more ideas, and constructive suggestions. An interesting tidbit about me is that while I am certainly a sociologist in my heart, I finished high school and started college with the hope of becoming a writer. Through my life I have dabbled in poetry, short stories, the beginnings of novels, and one incredibly failed attempt of a memoir. While I changed my major in college, I continued to write, hoping that eventually one day, I would be able to do something with that creative piece of my brain. Starting this blog was the first honest-back-to-writing attempt in years. Now that I’ve started it, I have grand ideas about where I’d like to take this. I hope eventually I can take these entries and write a book about the journey of a runner. Until then I am writing articles and trying to get them published in running journals. If there is one thing I know damn well, it’s certainly running. So I am trying to better my writing skills so that eventually, I’ll get articles published and can make a career out of running without making running “work.” A lot of times on my run, something I see, smell, hear or feel will move me to write about it here later. Sometimes I am simply out to lunch. Either way much of my life revolves around running and writing about it is a good way to keep myself honest and creative. As my dad and I finished our loop, I felt incredibly grateful to the wonderful life I have been given. It’s important to remember that life can be hard, it can throw you curve balls, it can trip you up and kick you in the shins, but you’ll make it through and you’ll be alright. Running always grounds me and brings me full circle back to those thoughts of how everything will be okay.
For the second 4 mile run, done in loops around my Mom’s neighborhood, my brother accompanied me via bike. He certainly was leisurely cruising beside me, but as always, it was great to have the company. As we rode and ran, he told me about what is going on in his life, what he is working on film wise, and a new camera he was thinking about buying. I admire my brother very much because he has certainly pursued his dreams and not let anyone or anything stand in the way of that. I think we all knew that he would end up working with film, media and photography in some way, because as a youngster he would use our film camera to make little short movies and work on funky photography. As he progressed through his later college years he began to make short films and upload them on Youtube. At one point he relinquished personal contact (with the exception of family) for a month and everyday worked on a short film. The short films he put together were creative and amazing. I believe it was around this time he decided to stop going down the traditional track and follow his dreams to the things he loved. In his words, “passion is what you do for no ulterior motives.”
After 3 and a half years of college, he left traditional school and enrolled in the NY Digital Film Academy. Since starting there, he has progressed and flourished at an incredible rate. He has directed and produced many short films, contributed to different aspects of colleague’s films, written scripts, learned the process and style of editing films, and studied film history and multimedia trends. His recent short film NORMality won the Anthology Archive Film Choice Award at its premier screening in July. He is currently beginning to work on his first feature length film. I have not been more proud of someone in my life. He has stayed true to what he loves and followed his dreams, which is more than most people do. Talking with him about his life as I huffed, puffed, and grunted along, made the run sail by and before I knew it we had finished the second set of 4 miles. I will always be grateful for the family I have, because they are the most amazing caring people in the world. They gave me life and continue to enhance my life every day. Love all of you guys!
Day 241: Getting Lost in (on?) a Run
Sometimes getting lost can be a really good thing. Sometimes, not so much. On Wednesday morning I woke up before all of my alarms (I have 3, sometimes 4) and decided to head to VA early for my morning run. A big plus about morning runs is the lack of annoying people on the bus and metro, which makes traveling to your destination run much more pleasant. I got to Arlington in about 40 minutes and quickly grabbed my gear from my office and headed down to the gym. The gym locker room was surprising packed with women listening to radios and drying their hair and I really was curious, how early do these people get up? It wasn’t even 7 am yet. Ignoring the other gym goers, I changed quickly, pulled on my Camelbak, and locked up my stuff in the corner. Within a few more minutes I was out the door running Westward at a pretty speedy clip. I had a lot of time for this run so I decided that I would just run as far as I could in one direction for about 30+ minutes and then run back.
Running anywhere in the Arlington region in the morning (read as before 9am) means that you will see TONS of other runners and active fitness enthusiasts. The first part of my run is part of my “Easy 3” loop and goes through the backstreets of a neighborhood where (I am assuming) people come right out of their houses and start their runs. This area that I run in is full of cars with DOD (Department of Defense) and USMC (United States Marine Corps) stickers on the cars and American flags hung out front of the houses. As you would imagine being close to DC and the Pentagon, there are quite a few active and retired military officers living about the area. Therefore many of the runners, cyclists, and even the walkers are in pretty good shape. I find it interesting that in Arlington many of the active people I see are already pretty darn fit, where as in Takoma Park, Maryland, many of the people out on the streets are, well let’s say, on their way to becoming fit. The type of activity is different too. In Takoma, there are a lot of walkers and slow runners. In Arlington, there are a lot of lean cyclists (with extremely fancy and expensive bikes) and muscular runners. I am not passing judgment on either sets of “exercise people,” I am simply picking up on and mentioning (like a good sociologist) the cultural trend. Here is what I mean.
Takoma Park is mostly made up of two groups: the elderly and young families. On top of which, Takoma is a very Bohemian, hippie-esque town where many philosophical outdoorsy types live. I think if you polled the people living in Takoma about their favorite physical activities you would see that rock climbing, hiking, gardening, and maybe protesting rank pretty high on the list. On the other hand in Arlington, the population is a bit more mixed. You have a lot of young people in their 20s and 30s, para-professionals and their families, (as I mentioned before) active duty and retired military personnel, and a smattering of active and “hip” older folks. Arlington is very business and upper middle class-esque, complete with fancy dog parks and expensive restaurants. The towns in Arlington that I have run through are clean and kept up very nicely, and the crime rate is low. This area, in effect, tends to have more fit people in it as well. To be honest, I am more comfortable running in Arlington at weird hours (super early and after work), but of course there are reasons I live in Takoma (Sligo Creek Park and my cheap-ass, but super cozy apartment).
While I was mulling over the interesting differences between the two places I run the most, I started to notice that I had passed that invisible barrier of “this is as far as I’ve been on this road.” I passed the major highway, where the hotel I stayed at when I ran the MCM is, and was now in virgin territory. Once again I was along a main, but still neighborhood style road that began to wind up and down over some small, but decent hills. I followed a trail that had a few signs stating that it was heading toward West Falls Church. I checked my watch and realized that I was closing in on 40 minutes. I had no idea where I was and only hoped that the road didn’t curve about too much and I wouldn’t get lost on the way back. As I turned around I started thinking about the idea of being/getting lost both on a run and in life. I think everyone has been there, where you realize at some point of some day where you think, “where am I and why am I doing this?” Lately it seems like a lot of people I know and care about are feeling lost. The process of being lost while running and being lost in life unfold and conclude in almost the exact same way. Please feel free to take notes.
On a run there is a moment where everything is fine and you are gliding along zoned out and generally feeling pretty good or even happy. Then all of a sudden there is this creeping feeling when you realize you don’t recognize the input that your eyes are processing. The trees look different, there is a hill here or there that seems out of place, a building is a different color than you thought it’d be. Same thing happens in life. You are going about each day doing whatever it is that you do and life seems okay. Maybe in the “life” scenario all isn’t going great but it’s moving forward. Then something gets under your skin like sand in one’s sock and begins to grind away at you. You are suddenly out of sorts with your life and begin to question EVERYTHING. Back to running, once you realize you are lost you have a mini-panic attack. Though your outward expression may show nothing at all, inside everything is twisted and in a knot. Your breath has quickened and you look at every street sign and mentally try to map where you are or could have gone. Your first instinct is to run very quickly back the way you came. After a few minutes of doing nothing but running forward, you calm down and try to logically calculate where you are and see if there is another route to take you back to the area where you know your way around. Eventually you make a decision, and follow your best instinct. Now back to the mental aspect, same thing again. Your daily life is now suddenly jarred with all of these reminders that where you are isn’t where you should be. Every phone call, ironed shirt, cooked dinner, and chore is causing you extreme stress and frustration. You immediately panic and look for the quickest way away from this feeling of distress. However, once you calm down and breathe for a while, you see that while you are lost, there is a way to get you back to the feeling on contentment. You begin to think logically again and plan your future. If you falter a second time, there is always help. Usually it’ll be a phone call to a friend or family member asking for directions out of an area or help pulling yourself out of the proverbial rut. Either way all of us at one point or another will be normal and okay, then suddenly lost, and then found again. It’s a normal natural process of life. And running. My point? There will be times when you get lost and you are scared, but don’t punish yourself for those feelings; it is a normal process of human life. When it happens just try to remember that you are strong, unique, and brave and you will figure everything out and it all will be okay. Always keep in mind that someone else in your life has been there before, and they will be happy to help you through.
I, eventually, found my way back to familiar roads and made it back to work safe and sound. I was proud that I found the way back on my own, but at the same time was comforted in the thought that I have people in my life who will be there for me when I need help finding my way.
With that I am signing off for the day. I hope you all have a beautiful day and enjoy the outdoors. Be safe!
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