Time vs. Distance

I must be honest – I have really been struggling with running these days. Every time I go out I feel slow, sluggish, and my pace is off by about sixty to ninety seconds. It’s frustrating and discouraging, and I don’t know that the problem is just the humidity. I’m not sure what all is going on, but I have some idea.

It is time to start training again for a fall half marathon. Notice I said half. My original goal at the beginning of the year was to run a full marathon, but after the last half race, it became clear to me that I am not ready for a full marathon. That is discouraging, but considering I’ve only been seriously running for about a year and a half, it’s not the main issue. I’m not sure what race I want to run. I could sign up for the race I did last year (and had a PR), but to be honest I’m a little tired of running basically the same routes over and over. There is a new race in a city about two hours from here that would fall within the same training schedule. I’m like the idea of running an inaugural event. However, the truth is, there are a lot of unknowns heading our way later this summer and fall. There are some concerns that I won’t be able to keep up with the training program, and I don’t want to attempt running a race that I’m not mentally and physically prepared for. (I also hate the thought of losing my entry fee).

Combine that with my dissatisfaction with my training group and uncertainty as to whether I should join a new group, I have basically been at a standstill with running on my own. I have an unhealthy sense of loyalty, and feel like I “owe it” to this training group to go back because it helped me get through two good races. But last time I had no one my pace to train with, and I basically don’t like one of the coaches as a person (or as a coach for that matter). I am apprehensive about going back to that group at the level I am now. Being told that I look like sh*t is not going to help my confidence.

I’ve got about three weeks to figure out what I’m going to do and try to get myself back into racing form. Which brings me to my plan. I am a person who is obsessed with how far I have run, and how fast my pace was. I will map my routes over and over again in case I miscalculated the first 10 times. I know it’s unhealthy. It has definitely not been helping me that last few weeks. So, instead of focusing on a 3 or 4 or 5 mile run, I am going to run for time and not worry about distance.  I am just going to leave the house and run wherever my feet take me. No pre-planned route, just exploration. I promise I will not calculate my route once I return.

Recently I have been so consumed by my slow pace, I haven’t wanted to run at all. The worrying and the lack of running have not been good for me. I need to get back to basics. I run because I want to, because I love it, because it makes me feel good. I think focusing on timed runs will help that. My goal for this week is to run five times – four 30-35 minute runs and a 50 minute run. I think I can do it – I’ve already got two 30-ish minute runs completed.  I’ll report back on Tuesday.

Family Night at the Park

As I was sitting here earlier this evening, thinking about how weird I still find it that it is light out at 9:45 at night, and I was struck by memories that I haven’t thought about in years. When my brother and I were kids, we used to go to Family Night at the local park almost every Thursday night during the summer. This wasn’t just a typical park with some playground equipment. Oh, no. This park had amusement park-type rides, a petting zoo, a train, a giant slide, miniature golf, and a baseball diamond that serves as the home of the Colt World Series. (This became a HUGE deal once I hit middle school – before that it just meant big crowds at family night).

The memories bring mixed feelings, because while they were some of the best times I had while they were occurring, things simply are not the same as they used to be and that is sad. But that’s not what I want this post to be about.

We did not do the same activities every week that we went. We didn’t always ride the train, and we didn’t always play miniature golf. But my brother and I always rode the roller coaster in the kiddie area…over and over and over. I’m sure it was lots of fun for our parents. We also always rode the Scrambler with our parents. The last ride of the night was always the giant slide.

When we were little, we would have to ride down with one of our parents. We would all get in line and get our tickets; you know the kind – the red paper tickets with the work TICKET printed on them. We would paw through the crate holding the burlap sacks that we would ride down, convinced that the sack would determine the speed at which we flew down the slide.

After carefully selecting our virtual magic carpet, we would begin the trek up the metal staircase to the top of the slide. The walk always seemed to take forever, although I’m sure now it would seem like nothing. To my nine-year-old self, it appeared that the slide rose ten stories off the ground. I never minded the walk because I was always so excited to race down that slide. And I could look around the entire park grounds, watching the rides circle with their colorful light bulbs.

Once getting to the top, we would carefully select our lane. We would try to get next to each other because how else could you tell for certain who won? We would pile onto the sack, our parents seated behind us. The slide attendant would tell us when we could go, and we’d be off. Faster, I would scream, using my arms to try to speed us along, as everyone was laughing hysterically (or maybe that was just me). You knew it was a good trip if your butt came up off the slide on one or more of the hills. Once we got to the end, we would argue over who won.  Was it the pair that got to the end first? Or who slid the farthest past the end of the slide? Did it really matter as we grabbed the sack and ran up the metal staircase again?

After we had our fill of the slide (or more likely, when our parents would buy no more tickets), we would end the night with a trip to the ice cream concession window. My favorite was some kind of blue ice cream, and may have been Smurf related (does that give you any idea as to how old I turned on my birthday?!), but I can’t recall the name. Regardless, we would slowly eat our ice cream cones as we walked back to the car, satisfied with another successful Thursday Family Night.

I have no idea what prompted these memories tonight, and I’m now awash with emotions I wasn’t expecting. But I’m happy to have gone on this trip down memory lane with you, even if life has moved on from such simple times.

Another Year Older

Monday was my birthday, and I am a firm believer in embracing my birthday. Another year older does mean another year wiser. I like to think of my birthday as my own personal New Year – a time for reflection, change, new beginnings. I don’t mind getting older because I don’t feel older. (Although we went to a concert last night, and maybe I am too old to be out after 11 on a Tuesday!)

In general, it was a pretty good day. My husband made my birthday cake (see left) completely from scratch – including mousse filling and ganache frosting. Am I a lucky girl or what? Also, calories don’t count it they are in the form of birthday cake. One of my favorite parts of any given birthday is the call I receive from my 81-year-old grandma. She is so cute. We basically have the same conversation every year, but I like it. Strangely, I did not get a call from my brother, but perhaps family dynamics are better left for another post.  Birthdays are happy occasions.

I received an unexpected surprise, although I don’t know that it counts as a birthday present. I got a call about one of the out-of-state jobs I discussed previously. I have an interview two weeks from Friday. I can’t believe how quickly it came about, and I’m already fretting over having to make a difficult decision. My husband tells me not to get ahead of myself, which is wise advice, but I can’t help but think about what will happen if I receive an offer too good to pass up and we have to move less than two years after we bought our house.

It’s a new year, so I want to be open to opportunity, but the logistics have me stressed out already. If it weren’t for the house, I would be all for it. Not only would the move mean better opportunities for my current career, it would also be better for writing and photography.

However, it’s probably best to just take one day at a time. That’s one of the things I’m trying to do during this next year of life. No more wishing days away. I will just have to patiently wait for two weeks to pass…

Unexpected Opportunities

I am continuously searching for new opportunities, whether they are related to my current profession or my desired profession.  I search the internet.  I read professional publications. I apply for jobs (lots of jobs) with no expectations that I will ever be hired. At least I’m getting my name out there.  I attend networking events (which I hate) because you never know who you might meet or run into.

I have been presented with a couple of unexpected opportunities recently – none of which are certain, but both of which would likely lead to even more opportunities.  Both would also require moving.  My husband and I have talked for years about moving someplace warmer, someplace with a bigger music scene, with more diversity.  But we’ve never really pursued it because neither of us wants to continue doing what we do, and I fear that moving would likely trap us into our profession.

I’ve been thinking a lot the last few days about what it would mean to pick up and move.  We love our house, and we just moved here barely 20 months ago.  Moving would mean a smaller house (and maybe no house at all, but a condo), perhaps no yard, no garage, longer commute. It would also mean more money (and not just a cost of living adjustment), more people to meet, more opportunities.

We would undoubtedly have to change our style of living, and I don’t mean what we spend our money on. We would have to plan going to dinner, going to the grocery, going shopping.  And what about kids?  We know the good schools around here (and that we can afford most of those we would seriously consider).  But what do we know about other cities?  And before that, what about day care?

When the most recent opportunity presented itself I was excited and starting thinking about all of the positive things that could come of it.  I was able to think of a response for anything negative.  Over the past 48 hours I’ve done a complete 18 and can only think of the negatives, and have nothing positive to say in response.  Does this mean that I’m really not ready to move?  Or does it mean that I’m just letting my fear of the unknown win?

Maybe I should just wait and see what, if anything, actually comes to be.

I Wasn’t Meant To Be An Employee

I read this on another blog the other day (or something to this effect), and it really struck a chord with me.  You wouldn’t think it would take reading this about a total stranger to make me realize how fitting a description this is for me.  I was the person who spent over two years of college majoring only in entrepreneurship.  (During my junior year I wisely added marketing and management).  I’ve never uttered these words aloud before, at least not where anyone besides my husband can hear them.  I feel like there is something taboo about openly making such a bold statement.  I mean, don’t we all think we could run things better than our bosses?

When I started to think about this statement, I started to think about all of the things that I dislike about being an employee (although I technically am not one…go figure).  I then started thinking about all of the hair-brained ideas I’ve come up with related to what I want to do when I grow up.  I realized that a few of them really are not feasible ideas. But I also realized that those things I am most passionate about are those that fit best with a non-traditional work schedule.

Creativity can’t be forced and sometimes it strikes at inopportune times.  That’s why working at home makes the most sense for me.  The thought of working from home, making my own schedule, working on my own deadlines makes me excited. I know some people struggle with not having someone peeking over their shoulder and keeping them on task.  I luckily am not one of those people. Even now when I am able to work from home I find myself more productive than when I spend an entire day at the office.

So the question is, now what?  How do I make that leap?  That part of the plan hasn’t come together yet.  I know it will be slow going.  I know it will have to come together in baby steps.  I wish I could snap my fingers and have everything in place right now.  Since I can’t, I will have to be satisfied with taking one baby step at a time.

Getting Back on Track

I have really taken to heart taking a “break” after the half-marathon race.  Up until this week, I could have counted on one hand how many times I have run since that first weekend in May.  Here we are already in June!  And I call myself a runner.  I should be ashamed.

I find that I often struggle to find motivation during those two months that I am between races. Mentally I WANT to run five days a week, I want to get in one long run, but physically I struggle to get my feet out the door (let alone the rest of my body).  I have yet to really put my finger on what the problem is.

I could point to all kinds of environmental factors that have plagued me the past few weeks.  The weather has been terrible.  Either we are dealing with thunderstorms capable of producing hail and/or tornadoes or scorching temperatures and (what feels like) 100% humidity.  What happened to our spring?!  I find it difficult to force myself to go out in weather like this when I don’t HAVE to.

Over the long weekend I resolved that it was time to get back on track.  I have been eating a lot (and I mean A LOT) of ice cream lately, and that is only justifiable when one is running a decent amount of miles each week.  I am proud to say that I have run twice this week, although I sadly will not be able to run today, National Running Day.  Unfortunately, the backyard makeover calls me, and I must lay sod. (Although truth be told, today has not gone as planned, and in retrospect I could have gotten a short run in).

I have also decided that running is going to become a morning activity.  It is just too darn hot and humid if I wait until the evening.  It really doesn’t cool down until after 8, and by that time my belly is full of dinner and that never makes for a good run for me.  So, despite my body’s insistence that it is not a morning person, I am going to start dragging myself out of bed to get my run in early.

I have high hopes for this new plan.  First, I will get the run out of the way early and have more time in the evenings for other stuff (like blogging).  Second, it will help get rid of the dark circles under my eyes that usually hang around most of the day.  Third, the endorphins will help raise my spirits and put me in a better mood for the remainder of the day.  The best part about these high hopes?  I don’t have to do anything to achieve them other than get out of bed and run!  They are inherent benefits to running.

And on that note, I should probably start getting myself ready for bed so that I can meet the world tomorrow morning ready to go!