Obsessive Runs

Anyone who reads my blog knows that running is a huge part of my life.
And for about 15 years, I have had some good friends who run regularly with me. One friend moved to Louisville, about an hour and a half away, and the other friends and I started running less and less over the years, only meeting occasionally on the weekends.
Toward the end of September, as I finished a run, MapMyRun suggested that I do a "challenge." The challenge was simply to see who ran the most during the month of October.
I texted my friends and asked whether they were interested. The initial response was not enthusiastic, but slowly, they came around.  I thought our friend in Louisville would never agree to join us. She is very private, and the idea of following each other's runs on MapMyRun put her off.
But after a couple of days, she surprised us and joined. All four of us were then on MapMyRun together on the challenge.
I loved that we were all together. It felt almost like we were running together again.
At the beginning, I apologized. I'm obnoxiously competitive. Najah didn't buy into the competition, just enjoying our running time together. Noreen has also stepped it up, but working early each morning, she doesn't have time to overdo it like I do a couple days each week.

Noreen and Najah joined me for a run Sunday morning at my house. 

None of us had been running a lot. I usually ran 3 or 4 miles on 3 or 4 days a week. That would come out to a maximum of about 64 miles per month, but the idea of competing revved my engines.
My friend in Louisville doesn't mess around. She runs 8 miles at a pop. Suddenly, I was having to force myself to run 5 or 6 days a week, and my mileage increased. I stayed in the lead for much of the month, but slowly, her runs caught up with me. Lots of short runs could not compete with her 8 milers.
On Sunday, my Columbus friends and I ran five miles and felt satisfied, but when we closed out the app, my Louisville friend had run 11 miles.
Sigh.
On Tuesday, I ran 10 miles. That had been my New Year's Resolution, to be able to easily run 10 miles again. So by October 24, I reached my resolution. Feeling smug that I'd taken the lead again, I turned off my app.
The next day, my Louisville friend ran 11 miles again.
Twinges in my knee and ankle are reminding me that my body is not used to all this running.
I woke up this morning seeing that I was six miles behind my friend. I decided to run a moderate amount. I couldn't go ten miles again like I had on Tuesday.

This railroad trestle crosses the trail, and you can see downtown Columbus through the bridge.

I walked with my friend Sheila first, waiting for the weather to warm up a bit. Around 9 a.m., I headed toward the bike trail that runs along the river and to downtown Columbus.

I ticked off the miles, deciding at what point I would turn around. Maybe a five-mile run would be enough, although I wouldn't catch my friend.
As the hitch in my left knee caught a few times, I thought maybe I should just concede.

The still green lawn runs right up to the Scioto River

But I kept going. The trail along the river used to be under construction, but now it is finished all the way to Bicentennial Park, which is where cool water fountains offer relief in the summer.

The arched bridge in the background is new to Columbus. 

I looped around at four miles and headed home, planning to stop at a Starbucks as a reward. The trail crosses the river, offering views of herons and a low-head dam.
Should I continue on the trail? Go for nine or maybe 10 miles?
No, I circled around the Starbucks to make sure I reached eight miles, before easing into a chair to relieve my sore feet. Grace met me at Starbucks and gave me a ride home in exchange for a coffee, and some always precious conversations.
I know that it's my dream to move to France, and I couldn't be more thrilled to be moving, but that doesn't mean I won't miss things about Columbus. And mornings like this are worth appreciating.

The LeVeque Tower stands stark against the brilliant blue October sky. 

Right now, my mileage for the month is at 100.85 miles.
I'm currently two miles ahead of my friend on our October challenge on MapMyRun, but I've made peace with not winning. I've promised myself not to overdo it. Resist, resist, I urge myself. Injuries will get me nowhere.
The challenge ends on Tuesday, and I vow not to spend the day running until I go to work in the evening.
Because, you know what happens on Wednesday, November 1?
It's the start of Nanowrimo -- National Novel Writing Month, where I try to write 50,000 words in a month.
From extreme running to extreme writing.

Competing With Myself

This morning, I discovered something new on my phone, and it can only mean trouble.
I signed onto iMapMyRun, an app that keeps track of my route when I run.
But, wait, that's not all. It also keeps track of my speed.
I really wish I hadn't seen that. Now I'm going to be compulsive about running faster times and trying to beat my previous times.
I learned a valuable lesson when I pushed the start button on my route as I walked out the door. That's right, I walked out the door instead of running, which slowed down my overall time. I usually walk the first two-tenths of a mile to the corner before I start running. When I saw my overall time, I was again cursing myself. That was throwing off my cumulative time.
For my next run, I'd give up the mileage and not start the route until I was ready to run.
It started to rain about a mile into my run, so I turned around (I have to protect my iPhone from the rain). I pushed the button to end my "route" as soon as I started walking so it wouldn't reduce my overall speed. Then when I pushed to finish, the app asked me if I wanted to post my run, make it public.
No, I can't imagine who I would want to share this with.
That's when the app flashed at me to start adding friends. What friends would I have who wanted to keep track of my runs and my speed? Unless they were simply planning to compete with me? Is that where we're going?
I get enough pressure competing with myself.

Denial

I meet each weekend with my friends to run. We start while it is still dark and we talk about everything on the scenic running trail along the river.
This weekend, I made a discovery. Many of us are in serious denial -- that's how we cope.
Here's some evidence:
My friend Stephanie asked if I wanted to join an exercise class near my house. She had already told us about this exercise class and how they take weight and body mass index (BMI) at the beginning. I told her I couldn't possibly join the exercise class until I reduced my BMI. I didn't find anything ironic about needing to lose weight before I join an exercise class.
Then another running friend talked about her new doctor. I said I couldn't possibly go back for another check up until I reduced my cholesterol, which meant more healthy eating and more running. Again, once it's fixed, I'm happy to go get help.
Stephanie has been dealing with some family difficulties and we urged her to go see a psychologist, who we highly recommend.
"I can't possibly go like this," she said. "I'd just go and cry."
So Stephanie must first get control of her emotions before she can go see the psychologist.
That seems to be the way for us -- we want to fix the problem before we go get help for it. It helps up deny there's a problem.
The last straw came at the end of the run; the sun was up and Stephanie stood facing me.
"Oooh. Your eye does look bad," she said. My eye is still recovering from a burst blood vessel that covered the white with red.
"I vote we start running earlier so we can finish before it gets light and we don't have to look at Paulita's eye," Stephanie said.
We'd rather keep things in the dark than have to deal with them. Truthfully, denial is easier.

The Key to Happiness

The most exciting email ever arrived last night. It said:
"You've won: Spontaneous Happiness."
Really? I won that? So whenever I want, I can tap into spontaneous happiness? It's mine. I won it.
Turns out, I won a book from Vicki's blog. The book is called Spontaneous Happiness and it's by Andrew Weil. So that's still exciting, although not as exciting as winning happiness.
According to Amazon, the book explains that happiness comes from within, so I guess I'll never be able to win it. But the book does lay out a plan for "attaining and sustaining optimum emotional health."
I'll let you know if this book hands me the key to Spontaneous Happiness.
Then again, I may be too happy to write my blog any more.
Here are some things that make me happy:
Traveling with my husband


My family


Coffee with friends


Running with friends


And cats stuck on screen doors

What makes you happy?

Saturday Snapshot -- Foggy Lake

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
On Saturday mornings, I meet my friends by a lake to run. A few weeks ago, the day was foggy and the lake looked eerie.


When we could see the lake, that is:

Bruised Toes and Thunder Storms

This morning I rode my bike a mile, took off my shoes and tried to run barefoot on the high school track. Even though that track is supposed to be rubberized, it feels like asphalt on the bottoms of tender barefeet. I didn't make it 100 yards before I took to the grass, put on my shoes and rode home again.
The reasons for this bike ride and barefoot run attempt are all because of the adventure we had Saturday morning.
I can see my running friend Pam waving at me wildly right now. "No, no! What happens on the running trail stays on the running trail," she'd say.
The story actually begins on Friday though, when I went to buy new running shoes. The running shoe store is great because the sales people know what they are doing and they encourage you to run around the building to test the feel of the shoe. I chose a new pair and decided to wear them Saturday morning for our 9-mile run.
I know better than to wear new shoes for a long run, but they felt comfortable.
I could hear the distant rumbles of thunder as I dressed Saturday morning to meet my friends for our run. I turned on the weather channel and saw storms swirling around Columbus.
On the drive to meet my running companions, I saw a streak of lightning to the west. I decided we should run the 1.2-mile lap around the lake eight times rather than running along the trail north 3.75 miles. That way, we would be within a half mile of our cars at all time. If the storm struck, we could get to safety.
Also, I had my old shoes in the car, so if my new shoes started to hurt, I could switch.
Pam did not like the lake plan.
"But why would lightning strike us when it has so many other things it could hit?" she asked.
Isn't that always the question?
Maybe it would hit a tree and the tree would fall on us, I suggested. Then you'd feel really guilty.
Princess joined us for our run after a long absence. She was willing to follow along with whatever we decided.
We ran around the lake first and the sky seemed to be getting lighter.
"Okay," I said, "we can go north."
So we started running away from the parking lot and safety. Mostly the storm seemed like something happening in another part of the county. We could hear it distantly.
As we got toward the turnaround part of the trail, the rain started to fall.
"We can stand under the shelter while it passes," I told Princess. When we got to the shelter though, it was a slatted roof that let the rain come through. We waited only a minute under the beams before starting again.
The rain soaked our clothes, my shirt clinging to my shoulders and heavy. We had gone past a clear area and were amongst the trees again when a bright bolt of lightning startled us.
"Did you see that?" Princess said. And then her words were drowned out by the percussion of the thunder so loud that it reverberated in our chests. The kind of thunder that sets off car alarms.
"We have to go back," Princess said, her eyes rolling like a horse in a barn fire. Near the turn around were some stores and a coffee shop where we could take shelter.
"But if we go back, we have to run through the clearing again," I said. Would we be safer on the trail under the trees?
We kept going because we didn't know what else to do.
Whenever lightning flashed, Princess would point it out and the thunder always seemed louder, so we superstitiously told her to stop acknowledging the lightning.
The storm had let up by the time we reached the lake again, but our clothes, washed with rainwater freshness, weighed a couple of pounds more than when we left. And our shoes squished from the wetness.
My new shoes rubbed against the two little toes on my left foot bruising them. So even though we had only gone 8.7 miles instead of 9, I limped toward the car. I couldn't wait to take off those painful shoes and wet socks.
And when I put on my old running shoes today, those little toes still complained from the bruises, which is why I tried to run barefoot, but failed.

Joy

On Saturday, after my very long Friday, I didn't plan to run with my friends. I have managed to skip the entire month of January and was well on my way to avoiding February runs outside as well. Then I blinked my eyes to focus on the clock which read 5:50ish. I wanted to go back to sleep. I was still wrung out like a dishcloth from that full day of swimming and basketball, plus I had three classes worth of essays to grade by the next day.
I made a deal with myself that I would try to fall asleep until 6:10. If I was still awake, I'd get up and meet my friends at the halfway point. When the cat landed on my head, the clock read 6:09. Sigh. Might as well get up.
I always enjoy running with my friends. It's the cold and the tired that I could do without.
At the end of the run, 3.75 miles since I only ran half, I broke into a sprint. I loved stretching out my (admittedly) short legs and feeling the muscles lengthen from my calves to my butt. At the end of a sprint, I can feel my heart soar. I want to lift my arms in the air Rocky style and cheer.
Sprinting at the end of a run brings me joy.
That's what I wanted to ask you: what brings you joy?
Not the kind of quiet, awe-struck joy that you may get from watching the sky turn pink in the morning or seeing a heron wading in the river, but the joy you feel when you want to punch your fist into the air and scream: "Yes!!" A jubilation kind of joy.
Sprinting is not the only thing that gives me this kind of joy. When I finish grading all of the essays waiting in the queue, well, I'm exultant.
And a hot, milky espresso mixed with chocolate can also give me that "I can accomplish anything" kind of joy.
Watch out world if I ever manage to finish grading all of my papers, go for a run that ends in a sprint and follow it up with a mocha.

Strangers in the Rain

I'm convinced that the painting The Scream by Edvard Munch portrays a person with a sinus headache.
I know because that's how I've felt the past four days.
"Lie down and rest," Earl urges me in between work and attending kids' activities.
"I don't feel any better when I lie down," I admit. And it's true. Whether I veg out on the couch or cook dinner or sit through a basketball game, that pounding in my head, the aching in my teeth continue.
That's why I decided to meet my friends this Thanksgiving morning for a run. When I opened my eyes at 5 a.m., the familiar throbbing behind my eyes was there to greet me. I drank some water, swallowed some B vitamins and filled my water bottles. Whether the medicine or the sinus issues, I'm thirsty all the time. I didn't take any ibuprofen or Sudafed before I left. Sometimes the medicine makes me feel worse.
I did flip on the television to see the weather forecast. Rain and thunderstorms. 39 degrees.
I went anyway. Princess joined us for a run for the first time in ages. I didn't want to miss it. But I did ask my friends to just run around the lake with me and then I would go home. The rain wasn't heavy, but I didn't want to be out in the cold rain for a couple of hours when I was already sick.
We ran around the lake, catching up on each other's lives. While running through the dark rain, I didn't even notice my headache. Maybe it's the friends, maybe it's the distraction, maybe it's the fresh air or exercise.
I decided to go on a half mile farther before they turned away from the road and headed along the river. I hugged them all goodbye before turning back to the half mile trail.
"Sing," Princess urged, "so we know you're okay."
"I'll be fine. There are lots of fishermen back at the lake."
I ran through the increasing rain back toward the lake, and I did see a fisherman. He was loaded down with fishing equipment and called out, to me, a lone woman running along the trail.
"Excuse me. Can I ask you a question?" he called. He was tall and had a rain jacket on with the hood pulled up.
Everyone knows that if a man wants to ask someone a question, he should not approach a woman alone in the dark in the rain. What was he thinking?
I turned toward him but didn't walk over to him. I was ready to make a break for it. But I know I was stupid to stop and answer his question. What was I thinking?
"How far is this path around the lake?" he asked. He held a fishing pole in one hand, a lawn chair and other equipment in the other hand. He looked miserable.
"One point two miles," I said and started off again.
"Really? Mumble, mumble," he said.
"What?" I asked turning back toward him.
"That large?" he asked.
"Yep."
I moved away from the man, away from the lake and toward the parking lot.
The world is full of people doing strange things, like running in the rain on Thanksgiving morning, or fishing on Thanksgiving morning, or stopping people to ask the distance around the lake when a sign right by the deck clearly states the mileage. Strangest of all, perhaps, is feeling like the politeness of answering a stranger's question is more important than safety. I could hear my friends, my husband's and my parents' voices echoing in my head as I climbed into my dry car and locked the doors behind me.
But, for the most part, people are trustworthy and not predatory -- just strange, like me.