Run, Jorie, run!

I love to race. I hate to race. I love to race.

2011-11-14T13:51:00.001-05:00

It's amazing how you can both adore and abhor one thing with so much passion. Some people have a love-hate relationship with a person, or a dessert, or a narcotic. For me, it's racing that I love. And hate.

I can't think of many moments in my life that compare with the high of crossing a finish line. But getting there--man, it is crazy what we runners go through just to feel the weight of a medal around our neck!

Yesterday as I forced myself by sheer will to run through miles 10, 11 and 12 of the Ft. Lauderdale 13.1, it hit me that the tough moments of a race are kind of like childbirth: you do forget the pain once you've hit the euphoria of the accomplishment. I am so, SO happy right now that I finished my race without injury, fainting or even stopping for a minute to walk that if I weren't writing them down now, I know I'd forget the following moments of misery by tomorrow:

The way the tag on my pants dug into my skin (I was bleeding by the end of the race)
The way my hand ached from gripping my little hand towel
That I was so thirsty despite my water intake that I finally gulped down a cup of Powerade, which always makes me throw up (and was no exception yesterday)
The forlorn feeling I felt as I saw the pace card carrier with the "2:00" sign run steadily past me (so much for a PR!)

It was a beautiful day for a race. That might have been the biggest problem: the fresh, cool ocean air and the excitement of seeing all the other runners inspired me to run the first nine miles much faster than I should have. Then despite the massive handful of Jelly Belly sport beans I shoved into my dry mouth, I suddenly lost all steam at exactly mile 9:39, and ended up hobbling pathetically to the finish line 10 minutes later than I fantasized about and five minutes slower than I could accept happily.

It's okay; this won't be my last half-marathon, and next time I'll have a better pacing strategy in place. I'm looking forward to rocking the ING Miami Half with my Team in Training buddies! Looking forward to it but also somewhat scared of it--but that's just the way I roll, I guess.

Running for a reason

2011-08-09T12:25:00.000-04:00

True, everyone "runs for a reason," whether it's to burn off last night's fajitas, train to become the next Kara Goucher or to escape the paper boy who is demanding, "I want my two dollars!" I've done plenty of runs myself to counteract caloric misadventures in Mexican restaurants, and plenty of runs aimed at shaving a few seconds off my stubbornly midpack pace...but the runs that have meant the most to me have been runs for Team in Training, an organization that raises money for lymphoma & leukemia research.

This year, I'll be doing it again. This time I'm honoring my friend Deena Heinrich, a really awesome woman who is fighting breast cancer tenaciously, so it means even more to me. I'm also helping out as a mentor for TNT this year.

Want to help raise money to fight cancer? You can join TNT yourself...and/or you can support my run with a tax-deductible donation.

Mama's got a new pair of shoes!

2011-06-11T12:35:00.000-04:00

I'm so sorry, Nike, but I've moved on.

Conceding that my chipped toenails and sore feet post-run might be due to my feet growing a size while I was growing Charlie, I finally gave in and went to Runner's Depot to get properly sized for running shoes. While I was there, I had them do a gait-check, too.

My profile: A mild over-pronator with flat feet who runs with correct form (ie on the balls of my feet, not the heels or toes.) And who needs a size 9.5 running shoe. (Sob!)

The Runner's Depot guy did have Nike Lunars in my new, jumbo size, but he didn't want to sell them to me, because he said I needed some stability, and not so much cushioning. I told him I really didn't care about that, as long as the shoes felt "light." That's always been one thing I've loved about every pair of Nikes I've run in: the airy stride.

So he hooked me up with Saucony Progrid Mirage Lites, in a funky charcoal and deep pink color. I was skeptical but he promised me I could take them back for new kicks in 30 days if they gave me blisters, soreness or any other problems.

I haven't put that much mileage on them yet, but so far, I am loving them. They are lightweight indeed, and the extra room in the toe feels luxurious after months and months of pinching my big feet into shoes that didn't fit. I also think the lack of cushioning is forcing me to take on a better running stance; I feel more muscle development in my upper leg and better release in my knees and ankles. I realize now that I had been running kind of stiffly in my old shoes, partly because they didn't fit and partially because all of the pillowy cushioning might not have been doing my stride any favors.

We'll see how they fare after my long run tomorrow--but I have to say, I have high hopes.

Was my 5k awesome? Well, it Depends.

2011-05-30T13:42:00.000-04:00

Today I ran my first race in what feels like a decade, but was actually just a little over a year. (The last time I was doing the bib-and-safety-pin dance was in January 2010, just a month before I'd have bibs and safety pins of a totally different variety back on my radar again.)

Some awesome things happened today:

-My pace quickened. I tried hard but not to the point of hyperventilating or puking, and I clocked in at 26:22 net time, a minute and a half quicker than my last (pre-baby) 5k time.

-My mood calmed. I remember feeling frenetic and aggressive, even mean, in previous races. "Get outta my way, hairy backed jerk!" was a typical thought to pass through my brain as I clawed my way ahead. Today felt like my usual 3ish mile morning run--but with a lot of people sharing the road with me.

And something not so awesome happened:

-My pelvic floor revolted. "Three pregnancies without leaking and now you want me to stand firm while you run hard, too? Sorry, lady!" I actually muttered, "Stop it!" to my bladder at one point like it was being an annoying kid sister. Ultimately I ended up running with my knees pressed together to prevent the unthinkable from happening.

I am waiting anxiously for race pictures; hopefully no one caught the mermaid-legged running stance on film. Next time, I think I'm going to make Depends part of my raceday gear. Although if it ended up scoring me my best time ever, maybe running like you really need to get to a bathroom is my calling card to even faster times in the future.

Afraid to ask: Might I need larger shoes?

2011-05-04T15:20:00.000-04:00

I thought I managed to survive three pregnancies without growing a shoe size, but it probably is NOT a good sign if your fresh pedicure chips as soon as you run, right? At first I blamed the cheap nail salon where I was getting my toes done ("It had to be fake OPI! Chipping just one day post-pedi??") but then I went to a more expensive place, and I still had the chipping right after I ran.

So either OPI nail polish isn't as long-lasting as it used to be...or my toes don't have enough room in a size 8.5.

(Please, please tell me OPI sucks! I don't want to be a 9!)

I'm also afraid my favorite running shoe, the Nike Lunar Glide (now available as the Lunar Glide 2) is no longer the perfect match for my bigger and probably flatter post-baby feet.

But with all that I went through before I found the Lunars, I'm not sure I'm up for another session of match-making.

Running in my sleep

2011-04-28T09:53:00.000-04:00

I'm back at it, the 5 a.m. morning mile. Pre-coffee, pre-breakfast, pre-dawn. I am SLOW. With some caffeine and carbs I can get below a 9 minute mile for a 3-4 mile run, but with an empty stomach and a sleepy head, I'm about 30 seconds slower than that. But I am PROUD. It's nice to come back to a quiet house, the baby just starting to stir a little (I hear the movement over the baby monitor as I hop in the shower) and know that when most of the world was sleeping, I ran past the Starbucks and McDonald's and two elementary schools and back. Now if only the rest of my day would go as smoothly...

Pop quiz for the pet people: Runner vs. dog walker

2011-04-16T20:36:00.000-04:00

I almost titled this post "Runner vs. dog," but then when I thought about it, I certainly can't hold my four-footed fellow trail trotters responsible for what is really bad behavior going on at the other end of the leash.

So here's my question for those of you who have dogs.

Say you're out walking your dog on a running/bike trail and you see a person jogging towards you. Fido has a history of getting spunky when squirrels scurry in his direction, and the woman headed your way is in head to toe slate-colored Spandex; she could easily be mistaken for a gigantic, 5 foot, 4 inch squirrel (she even has that bushy ponytail sticking out of her cap.)

Do you:

A) Hold the leash a bit more tightly to prevent Fido from lunging after Squirrel-Girl
B) Tell Squirrel-Girl that she'd better watch out; Fido is up for a good chase
C) Do absolutely nothing. If Fido wants to chase/gnaw at Squirrel-Girl, that's her problem. If she doesn't like dogs, she can just go run in the street.

I don't have a dog myself. But being the kind of parent who prevents my kids from hurling Saltines at other diners when we're out at restaurants, I tend to think that if I were a "fur mama," I'd be of the curb-my-dog, A or at least B variety.

In my few years of running multiple times per week, I find that most dog owners are As. I might have met a handful of Bs. I didn't even know Cs existed till this morning, when I ended up running into a bush to avoid becoming a chew toy.

But maybe I'm wrong to think the Cs are doing anything wrong. I really don't know what the etiquette is here. Maybe all runners (and walkers, and bikers) are supposed to yield to dogs, or assume that they are prone to chasing and steer clear. What's your experience been?

When 5.31 miles is harder to run than 8.0

2011-03-06T12:55:00.000-05:00

Last Sunday, I had a shockingly easy 8 mile run (well, as easy as 8 miles can be). I wasn't even all that sore afterwards; I felt great the whole time, went pretty fast, never contemplated stopping.

Today, feeling pretty cocky from my previous performance, I thought I'd go for lucky 7 miler.

All I can say is...it's a miracle I made it 5.31 miles without stopping, because when I did stop, about a mile and a half short from where I planned to end the run, I came pretty close to throwing up. And the majority of the run, I was wondering, "Are we having fun yet?"

It's amazing how the conditions surrounding a run can determine whether you kick asphalt or the asphalt kicks you.

Conditions of my 8 mile run:Started running at 7 a.m.
My Garmin battery was dead, so I forgot to worry about my pace
I ran with a friend who is a faster runner than me
It was in the 60s outside
Flat, easy course; no hills. The first two miles are a path around the Weston Town Center (a sort of mini-mall) and then the last six are a straight shot up and back the incredibly hill-free Bonaventure Road.

Conditions of my 5.31 mile run:
Started running at 9:30 a.m.
Garmin was alive and kicking
I ran alone
It was humid, in the 80s (and I forgot to bring water)
Very hilly course (Indian Trace on the stretch between Saddle Club and Bonaventure) with narrow paths so you have to accelerate or slow down if another runner/walker/biker is approaching

I'll have to see if I can do the hills in cooler weather at an earlier hour with more success. Right now, hours later, I'm still a little sweaty, and my stomach is not a happy camper.

Just try to trot slowly to this one.

2011-02-22T14:14:00.000-05:00

Was just minding my own business, plunking down one foot after the other and then BAM! This song cued up on my playlist.

Whooooooooooooooo-ah!! Got to keep 'em separated.

Best.run.ever.

I was flying. Heart fluttering high and steady, legs light on the ground, every ache and annoyance on the trail suddenly forgotten. The high's lasted all day. One of those moments when you're like, "Oh yeah, THIS is why I run!"

Thank you for smoking

2011-02-19T12:22:00.000-05:00

I'd just like to thank the kid in my development who was out walking his dog and sneaking a cig while I starting off my morning run. Nothing's more gross than inhaling smoke while you're running. (I really don't know how people who run in cities deal with that--plus city bus fumes, smog and more.) I took off as fast as I could to pass him. And then I slowed down, but I still ended up running faster than I thought I could the rest of the four-mile loop.

I'd probably do pretty well in a race if I could get the people at the water stations to light up so I'd want to pass them instead of slow down. You never run so fast as when you're trying to run away from something, after all.

Speeding up & slimming down (yay!)

2011-02-01T13:40:00.000-05:00

Being a new mom is all about numbers. How many hours did the baby sleep? How many times did he feed, spit up, mock Pampers' marketing claims that their diapers are "leak proof"?

And then there's that important number we don't always like to talk about: the one on the scale. How close (or far) are we to pre-pregnancy weight?

When you're a new mommy who also runs, there's another number that matters to you, a LOT. Your pre-pregnancy pace.

I am thrilled and honored and ecstatic and delighted to report that I am tightly closing in on both these numbers. I've got five pounds to go to be the old, pre-baby me, and thirty seconds per mile to go to get my old, unencumbered pace back. My clothes aren't quite zipping up the way they used to due to a stretched out belly and a little extra padding on top (thanks to nursing.) But for the most part, I feel like the old me. Yay!

Am I starting from square one?

2011-01-15T17:48:00.000-05:00

Confession: I really did think that one day, I'd have my husband watch my newborn son, put on my shoes, and run an easy 6 miles in slightly less than an hour.

Now that scenario may happen... but it's not happening anytime soon. He's 2 months old, and right now there's nothing "easy" about 6 miles. And I certainly couldn't finish them in less than an hour.

Today I ran 5 miles. And afterwards, had the runner tummy issues I previously only experienced after doing major long distance runs.

The concept of "muscle memory" seems to apply to spin class, the elliptical and just about everything BUT running. Sigh...

Pop. Six. Squish. Cicero. Lipschitz.

2010-12-23T15:17:00.000-05:00

New discovery: running to the song "Cell Block Tango" from the musical Chicago is exhilerating. If you listen to the rhythm of the song (I have the version from the movie on my iPhone), you'll naturally find yourself doing intervals of medium/high intensity and sprinting. Just try to keep your feet tame when Catherine Zeta Jones snarls out, "They had it coming."

What are your favorite interval tunes?

Goodbye Garmin (for now)

2010-12-11T16:17:00.000-05:00

Before I was pregnant, I'd use my Garmin as a guide for how fast to run. My average pace tended to be in the low 9:00s, so if I glanced down and saw myself edging towards the 10s, I'd speed up. That's not really working so well for me right now, at almost 6 weeks post-partum. Just trying to maintain a pace in the 9s in this period of recovery shoots my heart rate into the 180s.

The problem with a heart rate in the 180s? It makes me HATE running! And it's not healthy. It's also really hard to run a decent distance when you're so overtaxing your heart. I hate to think that my old comfortable pace is now "sprinting" to me, but it sure feels that way to my heart!

So now I'm running instead with my Polar F6, which just monitors heart rate and calories burned, and figuring out my pace after the fact by cross-checking my mileage with my time spent running.

It took me a lot of months of running and a leaner body weight to get to the 9s, and it's going to take a lot more miles and pounds lost again before I say goodbye to the 10s again. For now, I'm proud that I ran 3 miles this morning while my newborn slept at home.

I couldn't wait any longer!

2010-12-04T13:34:00.000-05:00

Pssst. Don't tell my doctor, but I had a pretty good time defying her orders this morning.

I know I was technically supposed to wait until mid-December to start running again, but I've been feeling pretty strong (and fat! and tired! and in need of running therapy!) so I decided to kick off my post partum boot camp a week early with a short run today, on my old path.

I'm proud to say that after nine months of pregnancy, including three of them with prenatal yoga as my only exercise, I did 2.48 miles in 26 minutes, 19 seconds. I ran the whole way and felt pretty good.

No incision pain, no bleeding, no freaky sensation that my uterus was about to fall out.

I am pretty certain I could have done the 3.15 mile short run that I used to do on a daily basis, pre-pregnancy. But at the halfway mark I got what could only be described as "boob telepathy." That distinct burning sensation that had to correspond to my baby waking up and wanting Mommy. (Indeed, when I got home, he was hungry and mad, and my husband confirmed that it he began stirring in his sleep 10-15 minutes earlier.)

Next time I'll pump or feed before I go and go for the full 3.15. Hopefully as the weeks progress and the pounds come off (I still have a lot to go), I'll get back into my old groove.

What, me, exercise??

2010-11-20T08:23:00.000-05:00

Doctor's orders: don't exercise until you're six weeks post-partum.

Question to the doctor: "OK, but what about walking with a baby stroller? That's not really 'exercise,' is it?"

Doctor: "You can walk, but don't 'power walk.'"

Hmmmm, what is this "power-walking" business she was talking about? I think it entails walking with your arms out like you're about to flap your wings and fly away. It's hard to do that when you're pushing a stroller, so I think I'm in the clear.

Since Charlie was one week old, he and I have retraced my old running paths--first with him in a stroller, then snuggled up to me in the Baby Bjorn. We did a 3 1/2-4 mile path with a friend on Wednesday (very slowly, no arm flapping involved), and although it wasn't easy by the end, my legs said, "We missed moving! Thank you!"

Walking a few miles at a time isn't so easy after a few months of no exercise, and four weeks of modified bed rest, followed by a c-section. But it's getting easier. Charlie will be three weeks old on Monday--and I have a feeling I'm going to need to bind my arms to my sides to keep my steps unempowered.

Meet my new running buddy

2010-11-11T20:12:00.001-05:00

Charlie Joseph Mark
November 1, 2010, 8:05 a.m.
8 lbs., 9 oz., 19 in.

We're in love!!

The final countdown

2010-10-25T10:50:00.000-04:00

Just 7 days...then 6 weeks

In exactly one week from today--if not sooner, should my water break unexpectedly--our third and final kid will be entering the universe via scheduled c-section.

Not being a huge fan of life as a human incubator, it's been a long nine months. I have unapologetically whined through every moment of heartburn, back pain, false labor contractions, insomnia, exhaustion and hysteria. Those women who revel every kick and every extra pound? I'm not one of them.

But finally, in this last week, I'm experiencing the true elation of pregnancy, for two reasons: (1) because it's really and truly ALMOST OVER!!! and (2) I can't wait to meet our little guy (or not so little, going by the size of my belly).

I'm so excited, I can barely sleep. And I don't blame the hourly bathroom trips for the insomnia, either. At night, I roam around the house like a ghost (big, clumsy, waddling ghost), peering into my kids' rooms to watch them sleeping...and to wonder.

I look at my 7 1/2 year old son and almost 5 year old daughter and wonder if the baby willl look like them (at birth, they had identical faces, and you can still see the similarity when they are asleep).

I wonder if he'll be introspective like his brother, strong-willed like his sister, playful like his father, intense like his mother...or none of the above--or a "combo platter" of all or some of these traits. (An intensely playful, introspective, stubborn little boy, perhaps? Sounds like he'd fit right into our crazy clan.)

And speaking of things I can't wait for, I also can't wait to run again, which, if memory serves, I'll be able to do in exactly seven weeks from today (six following delivery).

I stopped working out at about seven months when I got hit with paralyzing hip and leg pain (pelvic girdle pain, if you've been so lucky to have experienced this pregnancy condition yourself) and during that same month, in the most blatant example of "retail therapy" I can think of, I scored myself a BOB running stroller, in chic baby blue and chocolate brown, which I'm just itching to break in.

I can't wait to see how my little running buddy looks strapped into this bad boy.

And I can't wait to move quickly again, to feel my feet hitting the pavement, to break a sweat from actual physical activity not just from trying to heave my body in and out of the car, to feel my heart race without worrying if it's going too fast for a growing fetus.

See you all on the road soon.

Sanity is a reason in and of itself to exercise, right?

2010-07-20T15:55:00.000-04:00

You know those women who don't even look pregnant until they are 6 months along and even then it's just a teeny little bump, like they might have just had one serving of too much pasta?

I'm not one of those women.

I am, and have been for several months, very very "knocked up" looking, with a giant, distended belly, heaving bosom and waddling walk. Despite exercising 3-5 days a week, I have gained a lot of weight, perhaps not enough to trouble my OB, but enough to make me a little bit annoyed at this body of mine--which apparently likes to pack on the same (substantial) number of pounds during pregnancy whether I don't exercise (pregnancy #1), exercise moderately with step aerobics and walks (pregnancy #2), or run, spin and elliptical myself into a tizzy (this third pregnancy.)

Anyway, I never ran to lose weight, precisely. You can lose weight by eating a lot of salad and broccoli and grapefruit sections--you don't need to rack up the miles for that. I ran to clear my brain, enjoy the outdoors and my 'tunes...and yes, to get away with more pizza than someone my age and metabolism should be able to eat. But honestly, if the number on the scale were all that had concerned me, I would have found a method that didn't involve oozing blisters, shin splints, the consumption of gross sports drinks, a gimpy knee, "runner's trot," expensive races, pace anxiety and all that jazz.

So I guess I shouldn't be that upset by the fact that running (and now lower-friction versions of cardio like walking on inclines and the elliptical) hasn't given me a Hollywood-esque maternity silhouette.

Because cardio has allowed me to maintain my sanity.

That in and of itself is a reason to keep at it, right?

Plus, I keep reading this statistic that babies of moms who exercised during pregnancy have higher IQs and leaner muscle mass than babies of couch potato mamas. So hopefully one day my clever, sinewy son will kiss his mama with gratitude and say, "Thanks for all those miles you clocked for me back when I was a fetus. I know I wouldn't have made the honor roll without you..."

Time for the spin shoes to collect some dust.

2010-07-04T12:19:00.000-04:00

At first I could make it the full hour without needing a bathroom break. Then, about a month ago, I could get away with going once. But today I needed to get up three times. And the third time I slipped on my own sweat, wearing cleats, in the bathroom, and came pretty close to a bad fall.

The dismount/remount has gotten to be a hilariously difficult feat, too. Plus, todays's class featured a lot of jumps, which Baby clearly didn't like, as he kept kicking me in the pelvis every time I sat back in the saddle.

I have to say my spin teacher seemed really relieved when I told her goodbye till November. She probably saw me as a walking--or waddling--liability. "You'd be better off walking on a treadmill," she said, placing her hand to her heart.

Mmmm, let's not go overboard. If Biggest Loser contestants can amble themselves on top of an elliptical, I think I can handle that for another few months. Even during today's awkward and slightly dangerous session, I still feel great after cardio. And while it might not be keeping me slim or even holding back the pounds from piling on, having done this twice before, I know training my heart will mean a much faster postpartum recovery and a quicker return to the road and the spin studio.

Mama's little baby likes...

2010-06-27T18:59:00.000-04:00

...big, fat doughy pierogies. And gnocchi. And those Alexa organic red potato slices with rosemary and olive oil.

No need to get fancy, of course. A big hot steamy baked Idaho with a sprinkle of coarse sea salt is just as divine as the pasta-ensconced varieties.

I have a feeling the kid will have a special place in his heart for Mr. Potato Head one day. (Though he might try to eat it, not play with it.)

When he's not making me pine for potatoes, he's got me jonesing for dark chocolate.

And--this is weird--really dark, bitter green vegetables. (Tonight I had brussel sprouts cooked in lemon juice, garlic and olive oil with my pierogies and Baby and I had a little post-meal reverie. It was wonderful.)

Plus, it's hard to go to bed without some pineapple or watermelon. Or both.

But peanut butter, any kind of meat, finfish and bananas? Blech.

This kid is picky!

As I feast on carb-o-licious deliciacies, I just keep reminding myself that running and nursing will be one hell of a calorie- and pound-zapping combo post-partum.

For now, though, the Tater Tot and I are boasting quite the appetite!

Pffffffffffft. (That’s the sound of my bubble being burst.)

2010-06-23T16:45:00.000-04:00

It’s 5:30 a.m. I squeeze myself into one of my last pairs of non-maternity workout pants, make a mockery of my size-large sports bra with my size-XXXXL maternity cleavage, grab a t-shirt, heart monitor, socks/shoes, and off I head to the gym.

I offer a cheery hello to the nice lady at the YMCA reception desk, deciding to ignore her comment, “I am surprised YOU are still here!” and bound up the stairs.

Just like any other health-conscious working man or woman, I find myself a spot on the row of elliptical machines, strategically position my water bottle, towel and iPhone, hit start—and off I go to the Black-Eyed Peas.

And let me tell you…Imma Be workin’ it just like I did when I didn’t have a bundle of joy growing in my uterus. Whoop, whoop!

I’d set the timer for 30 minutes, but what the hell, let’s make it 40.

Pregnant lady? I don’t see a pregnant lady. Looking across from me at the mirrors by the weights, my baby bump obscured by the elliptical, I just see a flushed face, still-relatively-slim arms and legs pumping, no different from the face and limbs of the flat-bellied chick next to me.
Forty minutes later, I am admittedly a bit wobbly legged when I hop off the machine, but I get dizzy all the time these days, whether I am climbing off an elliptical or getting out of my chair at work. All that extra progesterone will do that.

Dizzy spell aside, I am filled with confidence as I head down the stairs, mentally patting myself on the back for having burned almost 600 calories and for clocking in an extra 10 minutes.

That feeling lasts all of about one minute: At the bottom of the steps, the YMCA receptionist is looking up at me with a tsk tsk expression on her face. “You know, we do have an elevator,” she chides me, likely in the same voice she uses for the Silver Sneakers YMCA patrons. “Climbing all those stairs is a lot for someone in your condition to handle.”

Ugh, my condition? Can’t we just forget about that for one 40 minute period? The little guy had been ellipticalled to sleep and politely hadn’t given me a single nudge during my entire workout…so why did she have to nudge me? Is it so wrong to want to escape from feeling like a human incubator for one short time period a few days a week?

Then, rubbing it in all the more, YMCA lady adds, “You look a little peaked. Are you sure you don’t want to sit down for a minute?”

Um, nope, I’m good.

I’m starting to understand why back in the day, being pregnant meant entering a period of confinement.

A few new developments in the life of a pregnant running enthusiast

2010-06-17T13:11:00.001-04:00

1. It's a BOY! Yay! I think I like the sibling birth order of boy-girl-boy. For one thing, I'm really happy that our oldest gets a little buddy to follow him around (and to inherit his incredible collection of Thomas the Tank Engine trains, which he lost all interest in exactly one week before his Thomas the Tank Engine themed fourth birthday party three years ago.) And as nice as it might have been for our daughter to have a little sister, hey, she won't have to share her lipstick (or boyfriends) with anyone...and speaking of boyfriends, I do pity the ones she brings home, with two protective brothers now surrounding her on both sides.

2. Running, like cinch-waist dresses, Pinot Noir, and demi-cup bras, has joined the growing list of things I'm looking forward to enjoying once again...after November 2. (Perhaps after December 2, or January 2, for that matter--anyone know how long it takes to be able to run again after recovering from a c-section?) It's very hot here in South Florida, even at 6 a.m. when I used to hit the trail, and I now have this large appendage that bounces unpleasantly when I'm in motion. Plus, last month I managed to score myself a case of mastitis, an infection typically suffered by breastfeeding mothers, not pregnant women, by what I'd originally thought was a brilliant solution to my jogging bra friction problem: wearing two sports bras, both at least two sizes too small. Who knew this solution could cause a painful bacterial infection that led to a fever and really awful pain? Anyway, consider me benched.

3. Please don't say you told me so, but I like yoga now. (I'm ducking.) After railing against yoga for being too blah for good old Type A me, I am now an enthusiastic student at the prenatal yoga class Monday nights at the Weston Yoga Studio. An enthusiastic student, but not a particularly good one: standing in the tree pose on my gimpy left foot (those running injuries and plantar fascitis are worse than ever now that I'm sporting so much extra weight) for a mere 120 seconds caused me to sweat like I was sprinting. And the first time I tried Downward Dog with a big belly I accidentally almost did a somersault. But this is something my body really needs to learn how to do, especially now. (Clearly!) And, the afterglow is pretty awesome.

4. I now have a love-hate relationship now with my spin class. What I love: (1) that in positions 2 and 3, it really feels like I'm running, weightlessly, (2) I can safely enjoy the adreneline rush of intense cardio without worrying about falling on my face, (3) it's in the pitch dark at 5:30 a.m.--so no one else can really see how absurd I now look, and if they did see it, they'd probably be too sleepy to process the image. What I hate: (1) I am so tired now and it's really hard to peel myself out of bed for a workout, (2) sitting in position 1 to pedal causes my belly to rub against my legs and strains my back, not to mention that the tiny little seat seems to have shrunken as my no longer tiny little seat has grown, (2) I am so testy and hormonal these days that something as minor as the instructor choosing to play a Country-Western song incites the spinner's equivelant of road rage. (Country? Seriously? Seriously?)

So that's it. I might not be updating much these days, but I'm still a runner at heart. Well, I'm off to go research jogging strollers.

Things not to say to the pregnant lady in your spin class

2010-05-30T18:58:00.000-04:00

1. That's a lot of water under your bike. Did you sweat a lot, or did your water break?
2. Come on move it, move it, PUSH!!! PUSH!!! You can do it. PUSH!!
3. Hey, my friend came too late to get a bike. Do you really need yours? You know, since you're pregnant and all...
4. Bet you're gonna have a big hot fudge sundae after this one, huh?

The bump in the road is getting bigger.

2010-05-23T20:00:00.000-04:00

It's getting tough to run.

For one thing, it's hot and humid in South Florida this time of year, and since it's only May, the summer heat wave has just begun to unfurl.

For another, at 4 1/2 months pregnant, I'm carrying around enough extra weight to really feel the difference these days, and since that weight is all in my belly and chest, when I used to be a "pear" shaped runner, my center of gravity has really shifted, and I'm not quite used to that. My heels and arches have been aching lately, and I'm wondering if it has to do with a change in gait.

And then there is the "jiggling" issue. I've tried running in two bras. I've tried running in bras that are too tight. I've tried running in the $50 Enell bra specially formulated for "the well-endowed runner." Lack of movement is better than flopping all over the place, but constriction on the most sensitive part of my pregnant body is no picnic, either. I won't go into details, but it's led to some nasty rashes.

I'm not taking my decreased speed personally. I know that once I've had the baby and lost some of the weight, I'll likely return to my old pace and old gait. (I do fear running with nursing cleavage, though--that can't be fun!!) That being said, to spend a really difficult and uncomfortable half hour running, even walking a quarter mile or so of it, only to return and find out I've gained 90 seconds on my former comfortable pace, is kind of annoying.

As I lose much of the joy I used to find in a brisk morning run, I'm starting to wonder if I'd be better off in an air-conditioned spin studio, where I can still hit those adreneline peaks, where there's no jiggling, and where it all still feels really good.

I am spinning twice a week--maybe I should make it a more frequent thing, and make the runs less frequent. I do have a 5k that I'll be sludging through next Monday on Memorial Day (a pregnant 5k is like a non-pregnant half marathon for me, I kid you not)...I just fear taking a break from running altogether, because I don't want to lose what I worked so hard to gain.

Clothing conundrum.

2010-05-06T19:50:00.000-04:00

I know that I am not the only woman on the planet who is exercising while pregnant. I have friends who ran marathons-for-two. My spin teacher told me the day before her water broke, she taught a kickboxing class.

So why are there almost no decent maternity workout clothes on the market? And why are the ones that are available so expensive? (OK, the answer to my second question is a simple supply and demand one...but I don't care how scarce the supply is, I'm not spending $68 on a maternity running skirt!)

A sampling of some of the clothes out there for anyone who happens to Google "maternity active wear."

Old Navy Maternity Long Layering Top
It's 100% cotton. Does Old Navy not realize how cold and stinky cotton gets after even 10 minutes of cardio?

And horizontal stripes--yikes! Do we really need more emphasis on our growing girths?

Old Navy Maternity Gauchos

When I'm not pregnant, I don't wear gaucho style pants because (a) I'm not 87 years old, and (b) they make my thighs look like wider than they are and make my calves look short and stocky.

Why would I want to look geriatric and short-and-stubby-legged when I also have a big belly and enormous, porn-star boobs?? Isn't that just adding insult to injury?

Plus, what kind of exercise does one do wearing gauchos? Running is out--I can just see those drapey pant legs itching my knees with every step. I'd feel pretty silly in a spin class, too. Even Pilates: do a jack-knife and those pant legs would fall right on your face.

Motherhood Short Sleeve T-Shirt Crew Neck

This model might be training for sleepless nights and lost pacifiers, but it's hard to believe she could be training for a 5k in heavy, dark cotton that doesn't breathe. Those shirt sleeves are the perfect length to chafe your upper arms if you don't grease them in Body Glide first. A cute concept, but obviously miscategorized as "active wear."

Motherhood Fold Over Belly Jersey Knit Yoga Maternity Yoga Pants

I think these pants are great--if you're a yoga mama exercising in a comfortably air-conditioned yoga studio. But what about if you're a runner mama exercising outside in 80 degree South Florida May heat? You'd probably be better off running pant-less. I get especially annoyed by all the maternity yoga stuff because it's like when you're pregnant, there's no other form of acceptable exercise other than yoga! Not everyone transforms from a cardio-crazed lunatic to a Zen, ommm-humming yogi just because they've got some extra HCG in their blood.

Well, I guess my vent is over.

Now I'm off to check out the plus-sized women workout clothes and the men's workout clothes to see what else is out there. Hopefully something that will accomodate a big belly without drowning the rest of me!

Bump in the road

2010-05-02T08:25:00.001-04:00

I have a confession to make.

My lack of interest in pursuing a third half marathon or a first full marathon really isn't because I've become all zen about running and have lost interest in races.

My inattention to the Garmin results isn't because I'm too cool to care about my speed.

I really don't have a new, laid-back attitude about running that's all about the joy of the ride and not at all about the numbers.

What I do have is a new running partner: My baby.

Yep, I'm pregnant! With kid #3. Due November 2.

Honestly, I'm as Type A as ever, but I've had to direct my Type A energies into things other than beating a 9 minute mile pace as all kinds of normal but annoying physical alilments have made it difficult to make every run a test of my personal best.

At my first prenatal appointment, my obstetrician was happy to hear that I was a runner, but she gave me strict orders not to overdo it. I'm not allowed to sprint, for one thing, and I'm not sure I'd want to, anyway, especially lately.

My old "easy" runs have in recent weeks become a challenge. Recovering from my 6 mile Sundays reminds me of how I felt after my 10-12 mile pre-race runs. It's not really the weight gain (I'm bigger, yes, but not so big yet that the weight should have this much of an impact on my running) as it is the shift in the center of my gravity and my breath capacity.

I sweat more. I stink more. I've had to change my routes so I no longer pass McDonald's (blech!) but do have at least one decent restroom on my path, just in case. I also have dropped a few days off my schedule because I truly do need to sleep in more now.

I have new running equipment requirements, too: a big water bottle on even a short run, two sports bras at least one size too small, more mellow music so I won't inadvertantly go faster than I should. (I also cannot locate moisture-wick maternity clothes under $60 anywhere. Apparently most women either don't exercise while they are pregnant or don't mind soaking through cotton tank tops and underbelly shorts.)

But I love it. I still love it. There's still no greater high for me than running outside with a good song playing, cruising down a hill, hugging a curve. It keeps me sane, it keeps me at peace--and it probably helps undo the damage of all the cream cheese I am craving lately.

And I think the baby loves it, too.

I had an ultrasound on Friday and wasn't surprised to see a cute little fetus (with a turned up nose just like his/her big sister) running in place in the womb, little arms waving at me.

What perfect form. And I mean that in more than one way.

A run with my son

2010-04-24T21:24:00.000-04:00

My son, Jacob, who turned 7 on Thursday, is the keeper of my race medals and the logger of my miles. ("How many miles did you run today, Mommy? Three? Why not four?") He's also pretty swift-footed himself when racing around the Little League diamond or up and down the basketball court. But until today, running was a Mommy-thing, not a Jacob-thing. He had never seemed that interested in running just to run--not to win a race or score a run.

About a month ago, I signed up to do the Weston 5k on Memorial Day and had noticed that there was a kids' 1/4 mile fun run afterwards. I asked Jacob a few times if he wanted to see if he could run a 1/4 mile with me, just to see if there was an interest in doing this run, and his answer each time was, "Maybe another time." But today, even after a baseball day an a half hour of catching with his Daddy, he said he'd try it.

So we put on our shoes, I grabbed my Garmin for accuracy, and off we went.

I did give him some advice first: I said, "This isn't a race to see who's fastest. If you want to run the whole time and not stop, you can't run so fast that you get out of breath."

He said was OK with the slow-but-steady plan of attack.

And I'm glad he did: Jacob and I easily completed the 1/4 mile without stopping, in 2:37. I high-fived him and whooped up and down for him, and he looked pretty proud. Then he said, "Can we try to run a whole mile?" I grinned. "We sure can!" So off we went again.

This was a lot harder on Jacob. He said a few times, "Can we take a break?" and I said, "Let's just try running really slow instead and then if we have to, we can." Slowing down really helped and I am amazed to say we did the full mile (right after running the 1/4) without stopping, in 10:13.

I'm not sure if I have a future high school track star on my hands--but I do suspect I've got myself a running buddy. Because he loved it. He said to me, "Even when it was hard I still really liked it, Mommy." I said to Jacob, "That's how I feel, too!"

When we got home, Jacob wrote me a "book" about his running adventure. I typed it up for him and am pasting it here.

RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

By Jacob Mark

We have fun

We feel good.

It’s cool.

It makes you happy.

It’s good for your heart.

It makes your family happy.

It makes you happy and makes you sweaty.

That’s why I like running.

THE END

So my son runs with me--then writes a little poem about it. Running and writing. Did Mother's Day come a few weeks early this year? Be still, my heart.

A bad run is still a run

2010-04-08T15:03:00.000-04:00

On my long run this weekend, the stars were just not aligned.

My running group ran on Saturday, and because of scheduling issues, I had to do it alone, Sunday instead. And, it was very hot outside and I didn't remember water. Plus, I just wasn't feeling it. Ever have one of those runs?

After doing 4 miles, with 2 miles left on my trail to get me home to my doorstep, I did something I have never done, not since I began seriously running last winter: I walked. I walked for a mile.

Then, after doing that, I did something else I haven't done in my history of runs: I jogged home. Not ran, but jogged. Like an 11-12 minute mile.

I wasn't proud of my Garmin read that day, but I was still glad I'd laced up that morning. Even though that walk 1/run 5 journey didn't do much to boost my runner's ego, hey, it was better than skipping it altogether, right? And it certainly burned off breakfast.

How to get faster without even trying.

2010-04-03T17:46:00.000-04:00

With no race to train for, I stopped caring about how fast I was.

And then I got faster.

Here's how I inadvertantly became a nonchalant speed(ier) demon.

1. Stop trying to run fast. Just run to enjoy the outdoors, your music, the lightness of your feet on the pavement.

2. If you see someone out on the path running faster than you, don't speed up. It's OK. People will be faster than you.

3. You can use a Garmin, but don't look at it while you're running. Just glance at it at the end to track mileage and shrug off your pace. Who cares if you ran a 5 minute mile for three seconds while dashing through a yellow light?

4. Run more often than you had been before, but stick with shorter runs that won't wear your body out, with the long run being in the 6-8 mile range, and the everyday run in the 3-4 mile range.

5. One day, look over your Garmin history over the past month, and watch your average pace drop off several seconds a week. It'll be the fastest "minute" you ever lost. Without even trying.

6. Do a very modest happy dance, trying not to be too self-congratulatory, as it was a very zen, "speed, schmeed" that made your quicken up in the first place.

What to do about spin class clowns?

2010-03-30T09:26:00.000-04:00

How did I end up in junior high school again? If you're lucky enough to have forgotten what that was like, just snap your own bra straps and memories will likely instantly return to you of the two jokesters in the back of the class who find something sexual in every other word to come out of the teacher's mouth, even when the lesson is about a right-angle triangle.

I know spinning can make you feel young--but I am not sure I want to be that young again. (Does anyone want to go back that far in time?)

There are two fortyish men in my Tuesday 5:30 a.m. spin class who spin in the back of the room and make jokes of the "That's what she said" from The Office throughout the entire hour.

Let's call them Beavis and Butthead.

Yeah, the spin instructor is hot. She's gorgeous, in fact, and she spend four hours a day working in a gym, so she has an amazing body. And when she shouts out things like, "Come on, move it!" or "Work it, people!" or "Gimme all you got!" I can see how that can inspire the lustful glee of hormonal teenage boys.

But men who have two or three kids a piece, who have good jobs, Lexus SUVs, receding hairlines and all of the other trappings of middle-agedom?

I mean, seriously!

I can tell B & B think they are hilarious. They are nice men outside of spin (yes, I know them--I have run into them at children's birthday parties) and they probably think they are adding some humor to what otherwise would be a grueling workout.

The thing is, I didn't get up at 4:50 a.m. for humor. I got up for the grueling workout. I like it grueling.

They clearly don't, because could you really sprint at a grueling-indeed intensity of 8 without your voice getting even the slightest bit breathy as you yelled out, "Yeah, do it to me baby!"

I did say something to the teacher, and she said, "Believe me, I know!"

But what I really want her to say is, "Hey, Beavis! Hey, Butthead! Shut the f&^%$# up and move your flabby asses!"

If she doesn't say it, I might actually have to next Tuesday.

Of course that would make running into them at birthday parties very awkward.

Puny arms and all

2010-03-21T11:31:00.000-04:00

There are only so many hours in the day, and I must confess I would much rather run 4 miles than spend 40 minutes at the gym doing bicep curls. As a result, I simply lack biceps. Think Popeye before he ate a can of spinach. Fortunately, the constant back-and-forth arm motion of running has made my arms lean rather than grandma-flabby, but their lack of bulk creates a major problem for me: that I can't just go into a running store and buy a regular iPhone armband and expect it to fit. I actually spent my first half-marathon with my left arm squeezed against my side to keep the armband from falling off.

Oh, and when I went into a running store in Doral to ask their advice on what armband to buy, the woman who waited on me frowned at my arms and suggested I take up some more strength training. Not exactly what I was hoping to hear.

I did find a cheap Nike iPhone armband at http://www.seejanerun.com/ that fits, but it lacks the features other armbands have. It's simply a black Spandex holder and there's no way to navigate the volume or channels while you're running, unless you take it off, make the change, and then stick it back in the holder. (Which is hard to do if you're going at a good clip--but necessary if you accidentally forgot to disable "Shake to Shuffle" or had unintentionally put a song on repeat.)

I am not a tiny person by any stretch of the imagination--I see runners out there who are much smaller than me, including their arms. So what do you wear when you want to run with music? Fortunately it's still short sleeve weather around here and I have shirt fabric bulking up my arm span, but in a month or two, we'll be back to tank tops, and I'll have to run with my left arm in a weird position again if I don't find a solution soon!

Love hurts. Your bra shouldn't.

2010-03-15T15:24:00.001-04:00

I'm stealing that line from a lingerie shop in Philadelphia where I was fitted for a bra many many years ago. (It's probably my favorite business slogan ever, so I jump at any opportunity to use it.)

So in this case I'm talking about a sports bra, not anything frilly or delicate or French enough to be found in that shop. But, a stretched out sports bra can cause just as much pain as an ill-fitting demi-cup underwire--and I think my fellow female runners out there know exactly what I'm talking about.

What's your bra of choice? And how long would you say it's lasted? I loved my Target Champion bras when I bought them last year, but they started to get stinky and mildewy after about six months, and now they aren't really doing any bra-like duties at all for me. I need support!!

Seriously, Nike??

2010-03-11T09:29:00.000-05:00

I'm in the market for a new pair of Nike Lunarglides, since my shins protested as soon as I hit the 200 mile mark. (I know sneakers are supposed to last for 300-400 miles, but I either run my shoes too hard into the ground or Nike just makes a softer shoe.)

So I see there is a Sports Authority shoe sale, click on to their site...and look at this.

LOOK AT THIS.

This is the color combo on sale in my size. The one that's not on sale, in gray and hot pink, is a marginal improvement.

Can I ask what the point is of making a shoe look so ugly?? I wish I had the luxury of buying a running shoe based on looks, but with my funny feet, I've got to stick with what fits.

And I thought the white/orange combo was bad.

Fun with the playlist

2010-03-08T11:55:00.000-05:00

Sitting on the sidelines is no fun, but the one thing I can do as I wait for my shin splints to heal is perfect my playlist. I've taken out some over-played (on the radio, and by me) Top-40 snoozes and added some new tunes to power up my runs. Here's what I've got.

Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia) US3
Misty Mountain Hop 4 Non Blondes
Straight Up Paul Abdul
Zero Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Song 2 Blur
Can't Get Enough of You Baby Smash Mouth
Beverly Hills Weezer
Rockstar 101 Rihanna & Slash
Paper Planes M.I.A.
Cheryl Tweedy Lily Allen****
Are You Gonna Be My Girl JET
19-2000 Gorillaz
Only Happy When It Rains Garbage
Imma Be Black-Eyed Peas
Telephone Lady GaGa
Heart-Shaped Box Nirvana
American Boy Estelle
Where Did You Sleep Last Night (MTV Unpplugged version) Nirvana
New Soul Yael Naim
Shut Up and Let Me Go The Ting Tings

*** I am in love with this song. I think Lily Allen's "Cheryl Tweedy" is just about the most perfect song to run to. It's got beat and power, but the lyrics are also interesting. Maybe a little menacing. I'm all for anything that's got force and thoughtfulness.

Black-and-blue shins?

2010-03-01T13:33:00.000-05:00

I'm a prettty light sleeper, so I think I'd notice if someone kicked me in the shins in the middle of the night. (My poor husband can barely exhale without me snapping at him to "stop snoring!" so it definitely wasn't him.)

My shins are achy and mysteriously black-and-blue.

I've only logged about 200 miles on my current shoes. Time to get a new pair, perhaps? I never heard of shins looking as bad as they felt due to shin splints, but running is full of new discoveries for me, some of them less thrilling than others.

Define a "good run."

2010-02-28T13:03:00.000-05:00

A month ago, I ran 6 miles in 54 minutes and felt great about it. I wasn't trying for a specific time or anything--I was just running to recover from the ING half, and I felt good the whole time. It did feel "fast" as I was running; my whole body felt in synch, almost like I was dancing.

Today, I ran 6 miles (tapering for next week's Miami Beach 13.1) and felt lousy about it. It felt like I was pushing through mud and I thought unpleasant things the entire time. My iPhone armband kept slipping; I was overdressed in fleece-lined leggings for 45 degree weather; I nauseated by the road kill and angry at the motorists who seemed to be driving as close as possible to the runners, rather than steering away from us.

My time for the run? 2 minutes and 23 seconds slower than the run a month ago. I was shocked by this. I was expecting to have been a good 10 minutes slower, given how much of a struggle it was for me to complete.

Which leads me to conclude that a good run doesn't have very much to do with speed. A good time might be an ego boost, but I think that's all there is to it.

I think a good run is 100% in the brain. I've run with blisters and still enjoyed it. I've run with a shooting pain in my left calf and soreness in my right heel and still felt good about it. Today I had no such injuries, but had only run once this week--and I think I went into the run assuming it would be a slow, bad one. And so it wasn't exactly a triumph.

I have to say there's no better cure for a bad run than a good one. I'm looking forward to lacing up tomorrow morning and getting all traces of today's 6 miles out of my system.

What do you think makes a run good rather than bad?

Run, Kelly, run!

2010-02-27T08:04:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to give a shout out to my longtime friend, running inspiration and "virtual running partner" Kelly, who is running the Tokyo marathon today. I say virtual because, well, she lives in Japan, I live in Florida, and we've never actually run together, physically. (If we did, I think she would have dragged me into running a full marathon by now.) But I often think of her courage when I'm running the suburban streets of Weston to keep myself going when I am dragging--and when I'm really loving the run, smiling with the beat of my feet on the asphalt, I think of her, too. Because I know she knows what that feels like.

Kelly and I never ran together, but I think you could say we built our base for prolonged cardio when we were high school kids, and used to walk from West Philadelphia (Unviersity of Pennsylvania campus) to the very most eastern point, Penn's Landing, talking the entire time, stopping into bookstores and coffee shops in that pre-Starbucks and pre-Borders era that was the early 90s, and doing it just because we could. We'd easily walk 10 miles on a Sunday afternoon, and unless I was wearing uncomfortable shoes (I remember dragging her into CVS more than once for Band-Aids), the physicality of what we were doing was never anything we thought about. We had so much to talk about it that it honestly isn't until now, as an adult who hopes her kids will also one day be that effortlessly active as teenagers, that I even considered the distance, or recognized that those walks were actually "exercise."

Kelly, you're going to do great! When you get tired, just imagine you're downing one of those enormous iced coffees at Caribou, or that we're racing to catch the Speedline together. I can't wait to hear how it goes.

After 93 running-related posts, here's one about credit cards.

2010-02-23T16:47:00.000-05:00

Sorry, runners, but I am just so amused (in a bitter cackling kind of way) by this letter I got in the mail from my Chase Freedom Card that I have to stop the running-related presses and blog about personal finance instead. Because this is a personal finance matter I'm taking very personally.

So this will not be a running-related post, except that it's (a) about how a bank is giving customers a "run for their money" (sorry, couldn't resist that pun, and (b) it annoys me so much I probably would benefit from a run right now.

This is what happened. Just checked the mail, and I got this pretty dark blue-and-cream letter from Chase saying that I've been "upgraded" from my current Chase Freedom Card (no annual fee; 3 points per dollar spent in your top three spending categories; redeem 200 points for a $250 check) to the new Chase Sapphire Account (1 point per dollar spent; no option to redeem 200 points for $250.) Some upgrade, huh?

I called the customer service line to refuse the upgrade (which fortunately, you can do) and had a little fun conversing with the woman about Chase's use of the word "upgrade." She explained that it was an upgrade because even though you were getting fewer points per dollar spent, you don't have to wait on hold for a long time when you call Chase if you're a Sapphire member. You get your very own "account manager" on the horn everytime! Well whoop-de-doo: I can count on my hand the number of times I've actually called Chase, today being one of them.

Also, you can get double points if you shop from Chase's Web site, which features an impressive 300 vendors. Yawn.

I said, "Yeah, but exactly how is that an upgrade? I'm busy. I already have my usual online shopping behavior. You're asking me to change how I shop, use your Web site instead, and meanwhile get fewer points for groceries, gas and Starbucks?"

Chirpily, she noted that Chase offered a price-matching system so if I found an item cheaper on another online store, they'd match it. If I called my own personal account manager to complain.

If I had time to do all this, I would really rather spend it on more important things. Like, um, my family. Sorry, lovely Chase account managers of the world, but I'd rather squeeze in another game of freeze tag with my kids than challenge you to top the deal I found on Turkish cotton sheets. No offense, of course.

I'm really annoyed. Does anyone have another no-annual-fee, high rewards yielding card they'd recommend? I'm staying "downgraded" at the Chase Freedom level for now, but they are taking away the $250 checks for 200 points for Freedom cardholders to as of March 10. So I'm looking to shop around.

Flat feet, revisited.

2010-02-21T18:43:00.000-05:00

I have flat feet. Non-existent arches. I'm sure the nice lady at the nail salon who paints my toenails "coral rose" must feel like she's been given the odd assignment of decorating two foot-shaped Wheat Thins crackers.

Running on flat feet isn't impossible, but sometimes you get random aches and pains and when you type your symptoms into Google, invariably the phrase "common among runners with flat feet" will pop up.

The good thing about flat feet is that you can stick a little silicone or plastic under the arch (orthodics) and kind of train your feet to sit the proper way in their shoes, instead of just sitting their flaccidly while the rest of your body absorbs the shock of asphalt. Kind of the way a corset forces you to have correct posture. But who wants to wear a corset?? That's exactly how I've felt about orthodics.

About six months ago, I got expensive, custom-made orthodics at Foot Solutions, and because they weren't properly fitted, the blood and goo that resulted (blisters on every toe and on my heels) was so terrible that I decided I'd rather deal with the consequences of running on flat feet than ever have to run wearing those evil orthodics again. The owner of Foot Solutions actually called me and re-made the orthodics from scratch for me, going out of his way to make sure they'd fit in my running shoes, but I was so spooked by my first experience running with them that I only would wear them in my walking shoes.

I was in training--I didn't want to have to take a week off from running just to heal from blisters, which is what had happened the first time I wore them.

Well, my official training is over, and just recently I noticed a return of my plantar fascitis. So I decided to give the newfangled orthodics another shot.

The added weight underneath my feet did take a little getting used to...but no blisters! And not only that, no knee pain after an 8 mile and a 10 mile run! I actually seem to have better form, and my pace wasn't slower. So I'd have to say that my Foot Solutions orthodics really were worth the money. Now I can't imagine running without them.

Two-paced liar

2010-02-18T16:02:00.000-05:00

I'm an honest person, but I'm wondering if I should fake it a little when I register for the Miami Beach 13.1 when they ask me what my expected finish time will be.

In the past I've been honest--if anything, modest. But what does honesty buy you when you're signing up for a race?

In my case, at the Miami ING, it bought me the horrible experience of weaving through a thick throng of walkers and slower runners who were put in the same pace category as me. I'd put myself down as a 9:15, because that's typically what I ran in previous races. I think I would have had a better experience if I'd shaved about a minute off of that time, because the non-walkers who actually ran at my usual speed were put way ahead of me. I wonder if they all had said they ran an 8 minute mile just to get put ahead of the walkers?

(And who could blame them? I cannot stress enough how awful it is to spend three miles simply weaving through people! It's exhausting and potentially dangerous--I banged into the sweaty shoulders of more than a few race participants.)

I'm not going to lie about my age (I'm almost 36). Or my weight (please don't ask.) But my pace? I'm thinking that in the next two weeks, I could surely get down to an 8:10 minute mile.

Sure, yeah, that's the ticket...

How many times have you had this conversation with yourself?

2010-02-17T13:58:00.002-05:00

I hate to invoke the image of the "angel on your shoulder" and the "devil on your shoulder," because I don't think skipping a run should be considered "evil," nor should completing a planned run be considered "angelic," but I'm at a loss for how else to describe the following back-and-forth I go through several times a week--and I'm sure you do, too.

Angel: It's 5:30! Time to get up and run!
Devil: It's 5:30. Time to stay asleep.
Angel: Come on, we set out our running clothes the night before. Let's go.
Devil: No. It's cold out there. And this bed is so warm...
Angel: How are we going to run 10 miles this weekend if we skip the short runs this week?
Devil: Maybe we could just not run 10 miles?
Angel: Get UP.
Devil: Will you please be quiet? I am trying to sleep.
Angel: Well, now that you're awake, let's get a move on. If we wait any longer, we'll only have time for 3 miles.
Devil: And that would be a tragedy because...?
Angel: Come on, we'll just have a nice, easy run today. No speed work. I promise.
Devil: Why even bother running if we're going to do it half-assed? How about we skip today and do a really good job tomorrow?
Angel: Look, we're wide awake. The running clothes await us. The running path awaits us. And have we ever regretted a workout after it's been completed?
Devil: Afterwards, no. But during? Sure.
Angel: Brat.
Devil: Nag.

So Angel wins, and off I go for my run, half enthusiastically, and half grudgingly. I hate the first 10 minutes. The second 10 minutes are bearable. And then after that, I don't want to stop. And yet, the Angel/Devil conversation repeats itself again and again. For some reason, the Devil almost never wins. (Which is why I really hate to refer to the running-adverse part of me as "the Devil," as the non-goody-goody part of me often wins during much more pressing moral debates.)

Do you have this conversation, too?

Who wants to run 13.1 miles on her birthday?

2010-02-14T20:20:00.000-05:00

Me!

My birthday is in three weeks, and so is the Miami Beach 13.1. We have plans to go out the night before and celebrate, but I'm thinking as long as I don't eat or drink too much, I should be in decent shape for another half-marathon.

And besides, is there a better way to enter your 36th year than with a triumphant run through Golden Girls territory?

I can't believe I'm actually contemplating this. No, not contemplating: training for it! I ran 8 today and plan to do 10 next week. I had actually sworn off racing right after crossing the finish line at the Miami ING a few weeks ago. I remember thinking, why would anyone intentionally put themselves through the agony of sore quads, gastrointestinal distress, the visual and olfactory assault of Port-a-Potties, lips so dry they were cracked, bruises in bizarre places from iPod armpands, sports bras and who knows what else?

Why would anyone put themselves through this? Well, I really can't answer that, except to say that it reminds me of childbirth. Ask any woman recovering in the maternity ward whether she'd want to give birth again, and you'll get a HELL NO. Check back even a few months later, and you'll probably get a much different reply.

There's just something great about racing that extends beyond the race itself. Even a miserable race where you hate every second of it and wonder why you didn't just stick with 5ks. I can't really explain it. I enjoy having something to train for, and I enjoy looking back on a race and remembering how hard it was, and the fact that I finished. Even if the race itself isn't so hot.

The woman I run with, who was my mentor when I ran with Team in Training, was wearing a headband today that said, "I love to run. I hate to run. I love to run. I hate to run." Which basically sums it all up. Especially with regard to racing. Yep, I'm an addict.

Naked jogger

2010-02-10T11:57:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I took a really intense spin class. One of those 5:30 a.m. killer sessions where only the true masochists stay for the full hour--about half the class had melted off their bikes and limped out the door by the time we were on our fifth sprint up an imaginary steep mountain.

When we were finally cooling down (because I was one of the masochists), the instructor advised us to do "recovery cardio" the next day. "Walk or go for a fun run," she said.

A fun run? What's that? Like not try to go really fast, or go really far, or both? That sounded pretty difficult to me. But I decided to try it.

So this morning, I found some mellow iTunes (it's hard to go too fast when running to Crosby, Stills & Nash) and decided I would jog. Not run, but jog. Of course the first time I glanced down at my Garmin and saw that my pace was two minutes slower per mile than usual, I got kind of anxious. But anxiety isn't fun, and I'd been told to go on a "fun run."

That was when I did something crazy (for me): I jogged the rest of the loop without looking at my Garmin once. It really felt like running naked--I'm usually so conscious of how far I'm going, and my pace. But this time I just went merrily along.

It was a fun run!

Miami ING half marathon photos (and 2 second video of my biggest fans!)

2010-02-04T19:44:00.001-05:00

I think I finally mastered the art of smiling while racing; I look downright gleeful in these pictures. (You wouldn't know that I was suffering from pretty severe GI distress, or that I had a blister on my baby toe the exact same SIZE of my baby toe.)

I think that's because I really was happy. I was proud of myself, and it felt good to be among other runners.

Click here to watch a very short video of my daughter, Rebecca, cheering on the thousands of people passing her by at the 12.5 mile mark, while her big brother, Jacob, goofs for the camera: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63WVSN6bu_s

The good, the bad, and the amazing: My Miami ING half-marathon experience

2010-02-01T17:29:00.003-05:00

I didn't beat my time from my previous half-marathon. But on the bright side, I did avoid pooping in my pants. Here's my story.

The Good

There was lots of good. Some of my favorite moments:

What it felt like to see my friends Lucy, Ali, and Meri and my coworker Carolyn right before the race started, and to begin the race running next to my running coach, Ana, and my best friend from college, Ava, who flew in from NYC to run her first half-marathon with me.
The thrill of passing the first few miles without feeling like I'd run at all, making terrific time.
Seeing my husband and my two kids one mile before the finishline. Rebecca, age 4, was calling out, "Go runners, go!" and Jacob brags he managed to score 40 high-fives. I had to stop and hug and kiss them, I was so glad to see their faces.
Being greeted by my wonderful friends, Shari, Julie, Samara and Karen with a sign that read "RUN JORIE RUN" and a bouquet of flowers. What amazing friends I have!
Knowing that I raised almost $3000 to fight blood cancer--how awesome is that?
Knowing that I finished the race at all, given the "Bad" I'm about to describe.
Knowing that I very thinly avoided a disgusting display of public poopery. (Again, the rest of this story lies under the "bad" part.)

The Bad:

OK, here is where the story gets messy. So if you are put off by "TMI," just skip down to the "amazing" and we can just say I had a bad case of what's cutely described as "Runner's Trot," but isn't cute at all and really doesn't involve trotting.

I began the race with the goal of beating my last half-marathon time of 2:02. Sometime between mile 4-5, suddenly seized by painful cramps, I revised that goal to simply "finishing" the half-marathon. And by mile 6, when those painful cramps had become more urgent and no unlocked Port-a-Potty was in sight, my goal simply became to not poop in my cute little running skirt. Seriously.
The mood of the race started out so wonderful. I waved and smiled at the people standing on the sidelines. "You go, girl!" some nice Team in Training lady shouted at me. "Whoo-hoo!" I called back. But forty minutes into the race, as the cramps took over, I realized I needed to go, and go NOW. "Rock on!" shouted another nice sideliner. "BATHROOM???" I cried back. Mis-hearing me, she said, "Yeah, WHOO-HOO!" And then looked puzzled when I made an anguished face at her.
Port-a Potties are disgusting. That was my first impression when I finally found one at the 7 mile marker, but after waiting five minutes to use it, I had to admit I was grateful they existed. My next experience with a Port-a-Potty made me realize the first one I'd been in was actually BEAUTIFUL compared to the second one, which had no toilet paper in it. Just a banana peel. I want to bathe in Purell just remembering this experience.
Severe diarrhea combined with sweating for over two hours equals incredible dehydration. At one point I really just wanted someone to catapult me over the finishline, I felt so weak.
During my frantic attempts to find a bathroom, I lost pace with both Ana and Ava, who I'd hoped to run to the end with.

The Amazing

As awful as being sick was, as down as I might have been about not breaking 2:00, which had kind of been my goal, there is one thing really special about my time: it was the exact same time Ava came in on. I didn't even realize that we crossed the finishline within seconds of each other, but once we were through, she tapped me on the shoulder, and sure enough, she'd been right with me all along. Here's a picture of us right before we crossed.

Ava and I lived together for eight years--from when we were college freshman until I moved in with my now-husband. She was my maid of honor at my wedding, and even though I don't see her very often now that we live so far away from each other, whenever we do meet up it's like we're still two twentysomethings in our pajamas, staying up late and watching "Love Connection" together on basic cable.

She's the one in black, I'm the one in purple.

Anyway, I did it! I'm done! And now Ava is asking me when we're going to run our first marathon together. Hmmmm...I would guess the answer might be, "When they find a cure for Runner's Trot." Which I'm sure does exist. It might entail a diet of Immodium and bananas. But if it does exist, I'm all over it!

Off to the races!

2010-01-29T15:56:00.000-05:00

I've got a busy weekend ahead of me. I'll be spending Saturday at the Miami ING Expo, then partying (in a non-alcholic, early-to-bed, bland food kind of way) with my Team in Training teammates. I'll also be sure to spend at least a few minutes carefully selecting my race day outfit to avoid looking like Punky Brewster this time!

And on Sunday at 6:10 a.m., I'll be waiting to cross that start line...

You know, it was only a little over a year ago that I first discovered that I loved running, during a cruise over MLK Day weekend when I decided to take a break from the buffets and spent an hour on the treadmill instead. I hadn't intended to spend that long running, but after a few miles, I realized I didn't want to get off.

And about 500 miles, six pairs of running shoes and maybe a dozen or so (relatively minor) injuries later, here I am.

Thanks to everyone who has supported my fundraising efforts for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

Thanks to everyone who has supported my running mania by reading my blog, putting up with me gabbing about my tales from the trail, and my hogging of the bread basket at restaurants.

Thanks to the experienced runners for the advice and patience with my rookie enthusiasm and silly mistakes; thanks to the new runners who've embraced the asphalt right along with me.

I'll be running with a lot of friends on Sunday in Miami and wish them all lots of luck! But I feel like I'll be running with a lot of friends on Sunday who are not in Miami, too, and I want to thank them and let them know they will be with me, too.

So what happens after the finish line?

2010-01-26T11:21:00.000-05:00

I don't mean to get ahead of myself, but after all of these months focused on the finish line January 31 (which is in less than a week!) I haven't thought at all about what I'm going to be doing, running-wise, on February 1.

Well, maybe not February 1. I plan to spend that day sleeping in and maybe catching a little South Beach sunshine, as I'll be staying at the hotel closest to the Miami ING start line.

But what about February 2, or 3 or 4...? I'm sure I'll want to train for a race again, eventually. But I also know I want to take some time to go back to just running for fun. (Which is why I got into racing in the first place.)

How far does a just-for-fun runner run? How often?

I have to say I am kind of looking forward to just running as far as my legs want to take me and not sticking to a schedule; to just glancing down at my Garmin out of idle curiosity to see what my pace is, instead of to make sure I'm going at a good speed.

Taper time

2010-01-21T10:53:00.000-05:00

Ten days till the Miami ING Half Marathon, and it's time to taper. Ahhhh. Let's everyone take a nice, deep breath.

I've actually never "tapered" before, so this is all new to me. And it sounds fun. Decadant.

I foresee sleeping in, maybe treating myself to a massage or pedicure, and lying around on a crushed velvet divan while eating dark chocolate-covered cherries. (Does anyone have a crushed velvet divan I could borrow??)

Oh, and instead of my 5:15 a.m. spin classes for my cross-training, I'm thinking yoga. Or Pilates.

Or maybe...sleep.

This weekend, I run six miles with my team, and my weekday workouts after that run are supposed to be quick little runs in the two to three mile range. After months and months of hard training, I can only imagine how luxurious it will feel to leisurely trot around my development, waving "hi" at my neighbors and at all the kids waiting for the school bus instead of muttering under my breath, "Git outta my way!"

I'm off to fix myself some nice herbal tea. I'm going to make it a decaf.

"You'll shoot your eye out!"

2010-01-16T18:33:00.000-05:00

Today I had my 12 mile run with Team in Training. And today, as usual, like all runners on my team, I passed the pedestrians pretty early into my run.

Because I was running, and they were walking.

Trying to be friendly, I said, "Good morning, how are you?" to the TNT walking coach as I trotted past her.

She said, "I'm fine, but how are YOU?" with a weird emphasis on the you.

I said, "I am wonderful, thank you!" (I felt pretty good, as a matter of fact.)

So she shouted back (as I was now significantly ahead of her) "DON'T OVERDO IT!"

This really irritated me.

I shouted back, "I DON'T OVERDO IT!"

Then I heard her cackle, "Yeah right!" and the walker next to her cackled right back.

Okay.

Perhaps I sometimes I do overdo it.

But who is this random woman, who is not my mother, who does not know me at all, to tell me to slow down?

And maybe I'm not overdoing it. Maybe she's under-doing it.

After all, she's walking. I'm running. She's...not the healthiest looking creature on the planet. As for me, at my last check-up, my internist positively beamed at my chart and told me my blood pressure was "delightful."

You don't get a "delightful" BP from underdoing the exercise.

Sorry. I'm getting mean.

I'm not really sure why the walking coach's matronly advice pushed my buttons so much. I feel very much like the little boy in The Christmas Story who is told by every adult he encounters, including Santa Claus, that he can't have the toy gun of his dreams because "You'll shoot your eye out."

I have shot my eye out, figuratively speaking, with all of my injuries, but doing so got me to discover my inner tough guy. I've gotten a lot of scrapes and blisters and uses for an Ace bandage along the way, but I've also said goodbye to the wimpy, squeamish little girl I used to be before I learned how to sprint over dead possums. "See ya, I don't wanna be ya!" I told that girl. And she left, for good.

Okay, the real reason I am still thinking about this woman hours later is that--and I cringe to type this--I found myself automatically slowing down after she shouted out her advice (once I was out of her line of vision.) It could be because I was at the 8 mile mark, which has always been a toughie for me, but I actually think I have this inner good-girl desire to please that made me second-guess myself and crank it down just because a woman than older than me told me to.

Yuck.

Next time she tells me not to overdo it, I'm going to shout back, "Careful, there's a turtle behind you and he's hot on your trail!"

No, I won't do that. That would be really uncool.

After all, she's a nice lady, out there every Saturday, and at every Florida race. She's dedicated to raising money to fight leukemia, and she's probably just worried about my health because she's that kind of a person.

So I won't say anything.But...is it so wrong if I think to myself, maybe even whisper it, "Catch me if you can!"

Speed drills

2010-01-14T11:20:00.000-05:00

I'm a new subscriber to Runner's World and I have to say, this magazine rocks! It's been years since I read a magazine that contained truly useful information. (In between their ads for fat-free yogurt, health magazines are all about reaffirming what you already know; parenting magazines are really only helpful to people who aren't actually parents yet.)

This month's issue had a recommendation for treadmill speed drills caught my attention, as our recent cold spell has made me spend more time with this mechanical beast than I ever wanted to.

Here's the RW plan:

Run 5 minutes fast (I chose 7.0 on the treadmill but choose whatever's "fast" for you)
Run 5 minutes easy (I did 6.0 for "easy," but do whatever is a casual jog for you)
Run 4 minutes fast
Run 4 minutes easy
Run 3 minutes fast (around this time it dawned on me that I was getting my ass kicked by the treadmill)
Run 3 minutes easy (had to drop down to 5.0 here because my heart rate was 175)
Run 2 minutes fast
Run 2 minutes easy
Run 1 minute fast (the longest minute of my life)
Run 1 minute easy

Of course you want to add in a warm up and a cool down, but the heart of the workout is 30 minutes. And a tough 30 minutes it is indeed.

If you're like me, you'll hate every second of it while you're doing it but be grateful for the training a few days later when you do your long run outside and notice you're running much faster than you used to, with less effort.

Rain fell, and so did I

2010-01-09T12:39:00.000-05:00

Conversation with my mother-in-law.

Her: "So, are you running this weekend?"
Me: "Yes, 10 miles. Unfortunately, it's going to rain and be very cold tomorrow."
Her: "Please be careful! You don't want to fall."
Me: " Oh, I won't fall."

Ha ha ha ha HA! What a perfectly absurd thing for the clumsiest runner in the United States of America to promise!

Of course I fell. I mean, falling was the only running injury I can think of that wasn't on my resume of boo-boos, and that's only because I never ran in major rain before.

It wasn't that bad. I'd completed about 7 miles, and it was cold and pouring. I was doing well, as far as runs go. I was averaging a 9 minute mile, my fastest post-injury pace yet, my knees felt fine, and I wasn't that miserable despite the fact that my clothes were soaking wet and I'd gotten lost in Ft. Lauderdale, which was a change from my usual training territory. (I missed the turn at Los Olas, which is the most clearly marked street in Broward County. Ran right past it and didn't even notice this until I'd gone several miles longer than I should have on A1A.)

Anyway, rounding down a hill, I slipped on a wet grate in the sidewalk and went flying wildly, ass-over-tea-kettle (I am not sure exactly what that expression means, but it seems appropriate for how my feet were circling helplessly in the sky like an overturned hermit crab's), landing hard on my back and my wrist.

It hurt. But, aside from a bit of blood and a black and blue palm, I'm fine now. Which is wonderful because I was pretty sure I'd broken my wrist at first. Just because the whole thing was kind of scary and shocking when it first happened.

An extremely nice runner named Mona saw me lying on my back on a sidewalk grate and came to my rescue. When she discovered I was OK, she offered to run back with me (we were both three miles from the same ending point) as long as I was OK running "a 10 minute mile," because she'd seen me running very quickly before I fell. Staggering with a sore back and arm, I told her I didn't think I could keep up with her but I'd try. It was a tough, wet, cold, slow 3 miles back, but when I finally arrived, I felt pretty good.

Mainly because it was over.

It feels really, really good right now to be home, and dry.

Hot pants.

2010-01-07T16:07:00.000-05:00

Apparently, calling a running store to ask for “cold weather running pants” in the middle of a Floridian cold snap is like calling a toy store to ask for Zhu Zhu pets in the middle of Christmas shopping season.

No one here has pants. So pants are hot.

I did all this web research comparing Under Armour to Adidas, only to discover I'm a beggar and can't be a chooser. The Runner’s Depot has exactly one—yes, one—pair of pants suitable for almost-freezing temps in my size. I had to sweet-talk the lady to hold them for me until tomorrow. My 10 mile run is on Saturday at 6:15 a.m. and the forecast is for 35 degree temperatures with a 90% chance of rain.

Great. I can already smell the delightful odor of wet fleece. At least if the Runner’s Depot lady is true to her word, I’ll be running through the almost-icy rain wearing pants and not capris or shorts.

Treadmill Hatred.

2010-01-06T15:56:00.000-05:00

So my choice is to run outside, in the dark, in biting 30 degree weather—or run inside, in a heated gym, on a brand-new, state-of-the-art treadmill complete with an iPod docking station, fan, super-cool water bottle holder and clear view of CNN, HGTV or ESPN.

Odd as it might sound, I’m torn between these choices. As a Florida girl for going on four years, I have that “thinned out blood” and hate to be cold.

But as a runner who enjoys the sights of the road—whether it’s the funky way my knock-kneed neighbor runs as if his right leg and left leg are trying to have a conversation, or the occasional dead reptile on the sidewalk—being banished to the treadmill is like a punishment.

Tuesday was a treadmill day and it was absolutely miserable. I'm not really used to having my running performance being advertised in size 90 font and I got a little anxious by the constant updating of miles run, calories burned, pace, etc. In fact, I got so obsessed by the numbers blaring in my face that I ran way too hard, got my heart rate in the call-the-paramedics zone, and ended up almost collapsing afterwards. And almost puking, too. It was both the shortest and longest three mile run of my life.

I’m thinking tomorrow I’ll run with a towel covering up the read-out on the machine. Better to go a little slower and below my game but get caught up in the enjoyment of the running than run really fast, hate every second of it, and possibly need to be removed from the gym in a stretcher.

On second thought, running in the cold is sounding more and more attractive.

A Great Eight

2010-01-02T17:44:00.000-05:00

I'm so glad the little cold spell we've been having was still in effect this morning. It was windy and in the 40s when I embarked on my eight miles (six with my team, two solo to catch up on some of my mileage I lost while recuperating).

A lot of people get watery eyes when cold wind blows in their faces, making it look as if they are crying. I'm not one of those people, but hopefully anyone who glanced at my face during today's run doesn't know that, and assumed I'd just gotten some soot in my eyes. It's kind of embarrassing to admit that in truth, I wasn't teared up from eye irritation but from elation.

I'm a big sap, and very prone to waterworks. Still, I was surprised to find myself quite so choked up by the ease and the glee of my limbs moving swiftly and without pain for the first time in weeks--maybe even months. (When I look back on it now, I think I've been run-down since late October, although I didn't start to lose the joy of running until late November.)

I finally remembered why I'd gotten myself into the serious business of setting the alarm for 4:30 a.m. to run when the rest of the world is sleeping; why I'd braved burst blisters, pouring rain, pounding heat, wardrobe malfunctions, iPhone and earphone malfuctions, sore muscles, runner's knee, runner's stomach, and all the rest of it.

It's because I love running. In the absence of injury or exhaustion, it truly is one of my greatest pleasures.

I'm just so happy to be back.

Now please, pass the Kleenex.

What do you wear to run in 50 degree, windy weather?

2009-12-29T10:59:00.000-05:00

So far I've tried two approaches. The first was the, "eh, I'll warm up after a mile" approach. Running capris, short sleeved moisture wick T and a baseball hat. I was sweating after a mile, but I had goosebumps on my arms and legs the whole time.

The second approach was, "Let's pretend we're in Alaska." On top of my one pair of full-length sweatpants and a tank, I layered two sweatshirts (one was mine, one was my husband's and very heavy) and wore a thick canvas cap. After about ten minutes of running, I kind of felt like I was sprinting in a sauna. But, I highly recommend this outfit if you do live in Alaska.

So what do you wear when the winter weather is "mild" (any location that gets more than two seasons) or "bone-chillingly cold" (South Florida and locations with similar tropical climates)?

A "running" list of New Year's resolutions

2009-12-27T19:05:00.000-05:00

Last year I resolved to lose weight and get in shape. With just a handful of days left in the year, I think it's safe to say Mission: Get Fine in '09 was a success. Thank you, running.

Unfortunately, in the process of losing weight/getting in shape via running, I developed a bunch of bad habits I never had before, so I'm going to have to make 2010 the year I improve upon the following:

1. Develop better form. I've recently discovered I run leaning on my right side, making my gimpy left leg do all the work, making me all the gimpier.

2. Be nicer to pedestrians.

3. Mix up the cross training. Not just spinning but strength training, Pilates and yoga, too. (Just no more step aerobics, OK? I think I've done enough stomping on the bench to never want to do a revolving V-step again.)

4. Stretch more.

5. Talk less about running in social settings to avoid boring friends, family and co-workers to tears--or giving them the impression that I'm some holier-than-though exercise saint who looks down on them for eating Pringles. (This blog will have to become my super-secret outlet for everything running-related, as I attempt to convince the rest of the world that I'm much more interested in, say, antiques, than I am in the latest water bottle contraption.)

6. Run a marathon.

7. Stop defining success by the number of miles run or by race results and instead define it by....hmmm, I'm still searching for the second half of this sentence.

But when I find it, I promise I'll reveal it only in blog form--I won't tell you, if, say, we run into each other at the supermarket or at a party. I'll keep that discovery, and my feelings about Pringles, to myself.

All I wanted for Christmas...

2009-12-26T12:31:00.000-05:00

...was to be able to run more than 4 1/2 miles without my knee painfully "popping" as it has for the past month whenever I ran for more than forty minutes. Thanks, Santa! Today I ran 6.0 with no pain and no popping (just trepidation that slowed me down a bit, but hopefully I'll get past that soon and pick up speed.)

Actually, I don't think Santa deserves the credit--I'd say this post-Christmas miracle was the work of my orthopedist, who told me to spin rather than run until I healed, and my Team in Training coach, who spent a lot of time creating a low-mileage schedule for me to get me through to the half marathon next month without over-stressing my knee. And ME. I'll give myself credit for actually listening to the experts and not being so hot-headed that I ran through pain as I have in the past.

Oh, and in case you think I'm sooo running obsessed that all I truly wanted for the holidays was a good run, I have to disclose that I'm Jewish, and already got plenty of loot a few weeks ago for Hanukkah, including a massage giftcard, last year's fabulous if enormous Garmin Forerunner 305, iTunes, and a plastic "#1 Mom" keychain from my 4 year-old daughter.

I hope everyone had happy holidays.

I figured out my problem. I'm lop-sided!

2009-12-23T13:14:00.000-05:00

It's a shame I can't run in front of a mirror, because I would have figured this out ages ago.

My trouble has always been with my left lower body (foot, ankle, calf, knee, quad). Every injury I've had, from when I sprained my ankle at age 11 to this recent knee problem, has been on the left. Meanwhile, I've had other aches and pains in the upper half of my body on the right side (ab soreness, shoulder strain, etc.) but never the right.

I joked before that I thought this had to be the handiwork of someone who had created a voo-doo doll of me and was sticking needs only on the left side. But I have discovered a more likely culprit: I overwork my left side when I work out, and then afterwards carry things (my laptop, purse, children, lunch, sometimes all at once) with my right side perhaps because my left side has already had enough.

This epiphany occured to me today during spin class, when the instructor forgot to dim the lights all the way. I had a bike right up front, by the mirror, and I noticed that when I was working the hardest, I was leaning to the right, while pushing much harder with my right leg than my left. I realized then that I kind of run in the same pose: Leaning right, powering harder with the left leg.

You can even see from this finishline photo of me from my 10k--that was 54 minutes of running leaning right, working left.

Perhaps the answer to all of my troubles could be as simple as running with my head on straight?? Dare I hope?

So this Type A runner goes to the mall 3 days before Christmas...

2009-12-22T19:46:00.000-05:00

I'm going to stop prefacing everything unflattering I write about myself with, "I swear, I really am a good person!" because at some point, I just have to admit that there's something less than "good" about a person who collides into old people who dare to walk on her jogging path, tells off incompetent sushi waitresses and--today's confession--weaves aggressively between slowly browsing shoppers, occasionally bumping into them, in an attempt to acheive a shopping mall "PR."

(That personal record would be: One baby gift, one defective jewelry return and one stop at the Adidas outlet in less than an hour, at a mall where the parking lot is so crowded, you have to park at the furniture store across the street. Three days till Christmas. I know the ends don't justify the means, but that is pretty efficient shopping.)

Not that this makes me seem any nicer, but I didn't actually hurt anyone, and I slowed down when I saw parents pushing strollers and of course yielded to people in wheelchairs. (But that self-centered teenage girl who stopped walking in the middle of a throng of shoppers to answer her phone? Yeah, I might have clipped her shoulder a little bit. She'll get over it.)

I think from now on, I'll stick with shopping online, and catalogs.

My roller-coaster post-injury run.

2009-12-20T09:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was the first time I was cleared to run since injuring myself three weeks earlier. I was given the task of running a cautious 4 miles, which I haughtily assumed would be a piece of cake. And not just any piece of cake, but an exquisite one. Chocolate lava torte drizzled in creme anglaise.

I have a tendency to daydream, and I'd somehow convinced myself that as soon as I laced up, I would just fly off the asphalt. All that rest and rebuilding of my quadriceps would make me Super Runner. I'd feel no pain. I'd feel lighter than air. I would discover that all along, I was actually an 8 minute mile kind of runner, and just the weight of discomfort and injuries had been slowing me down.

Here's my reality check. This is what actually happened: I started running and at first, it did not feel amazing. Not painful at all--I just had a sudden flash of sympathy for the people who have told me, "I don't understand how you can run that much! I think it's so boring." It was difficult and a little slow, and I was also very worried about injury that I ran self-consciously, trying to make sure my quads and calves were equal partners in my movement, which made for a really unnatural gait.

Then, after about 2 miles, the love suddenly kicked in. I'm back! I thought to myself, getting a little teary-eyed. Oh running, how I've missed you! At that point, my brand new Garmin displayed that my pace had changed from a 9:55 minute mile to 8:08 (pre-injury, a comfortable pace for me was somewhere in between those times) and I felt great. And indeed, I thought the "Super Runner" fantasy was coming true.

I got in another 1.75 miles of exquisite chocolate lava torte style running and could see the end of the loop on the horizon--when all of the sudden I got a tingling feeling in left kneecap. You know, the bad one. It wasn't pain. It was pre-pain. This led to a tingling feeling in my stomach that was neither pain nor pre-prain but 100% dread. I slowed down and continued to the end of the loop (the Weston Town Center periphery, circled twice, for those of you who know the Weston Team in Training geography).

And limped defeatedly back to my car.

Driving home I decided it wasn't so bad. I felt good during most of my run, and maybe I just needed more spinning and some light quad body work and shorter mid-week runs to keep on rebuilding. I hope that's the case; we'll have to see. Sometimes being a perpetual optimist means it's hard to know what you truly are capable of doing and what you desperately want to do.

Oh, and I'm not limping anymore. The pain lasted for a few hours afterwards. I feel fine, now.

Of course some ice and cashing in the massage gift certificate my husband gave me as a holiday gift definitely helped.

Playing with the playlist (song suggestions welcome)

2009-12-17T14:20:00.000-05:00

My brand-new Garmin is fully charged, my armband and heart monitor chest strap have been laundered and Febreezed, I've correctly matched up all of my L and R Nike Dri-Fit socks to avoid running with two left (or two right) socks on my feet, and if there were a reason to shine my running shoes, they would be shined.

I am prepared.

Let's just say that Saturday, the first day I am cleared to run again since my knee problem on December 2, could not possibly come sooner. Most importantly, I know I've gained strength in my quads from all this crack-of-dawn spinning--which, more than an April-fresh heart monitor chest strap, is what I really need to be road-ready again.

To add some fun and funk to my modest 4 miler on Saturday (I build up 2 miles a week till the half marathon Jan. 31, as per my coach's suggestion), I've been trying to put together a really high energy, kicky playlist about 50 minutes long. I have the most fun when running when I'm listening to tunes I'd enjoy dancing to--which is why I've got more Lady GaGa than Suzanne Vega on this one. But I've got a little jazz and some "grrl power" type tunes, too.

Here's what I've got so far; feel free to steal it if you're a fan of this same kind of spin-studio-inspired programming.

Imma Be Black Eyed Peas
Paper Planes M.I.A.
Do Your Thing Basement Jaxx
Bad Romance Lady GaGa
Tick Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Seven Nation Army The White Stripes
Sinnerman Nina Simone
Only Happy When It Rains Garbage
3 Britney Spears
Still in Hollywood Concrete Blonde
Where Did You Sleep Last Night Nirvana (MTV Unplugged version)
You Spin Me Round and Round Jessica Simpson
Johnny Feelgood Liz Phair
Awful Hole
Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia) US3
I'm Too Sexy Right Said Fred

Am I missing any must-run-to tunes? If so, please suggest them in the comment section below or email me at joriemark@gmail.com. Even if I don't get them into Saturday's playlist, I've got a lot of miles ahead of me in the next month and a half, and a fresh new song always makes the run more fun.

Just wring me out when you're done mopping the floor with me, okay?

2009-12-15T13:41:00.000-05:00

Thanks.

(I'm talking to my spin instructor.)

I know last week I was all happy and excited to be taking the 5:30 a.m. spin classes during my rest from running, but I'd like to officially take back that happiness and excitement. And replace it with misery and trepidation.

Last week, I somehow didn't notice the whimpering coming from the bikes surrounding me, because I was just so grateful to be doing cardio again. This time, not only did I notice them, but I contributed to the chorus of pain.

The crack-o-dawn spin dominatrixes are something, aren't they? Hup, hup, I said HUP!

I'm not new to spin. I was pretty much addicted to it from 2006-2008, before I eventually discovered running. But I never took a class like these 5:30 sessions. I used to go at 9 am, with the other new moms trying to lose their baby weight, and the retired people in the "Silver Sneakers" program. The 5:30 classes are populated mainly by Type A business people who eat their competitors for a solid protein breakfast after they finish their workouts.

It's not just who signs up for these classes: really, the difference between the 5:30 am class and the 9 am class can't be overstated. There were always moments during the 9 am classes when my heart wasn't rattling in my chest. Today, my heart stayed above 160 the entire 55 minutes. Which could be because Maria made us do our sprints on a level 7 resistance (scale 1-10 perceived exertion, with 3 being a flat road). I always thought level 4-5 was for sprinting, and that level 7 was for climbing. But nope, climbing would be 10 in Maria's class. And not just 10, but, as she puts it, "A real 10."

Now this will make me sound really strange, most assuredly masochistic, but after an hour of moaning and huffing and spastically dropping my water bottle, I actually felt amazing when I left the spin studio. (And only partially because my torture session was over.) I've been on a high all day. So I'll be back tomorrow at 5:15 for Maria's 75 minute class, and I know I'll probably hate every minute of it. Until it's over, and then I'll love it again. (I hope.)

Elliptical abuse

2009-12-14T12:18:00.000-05:00

I've done things to the elliptical that are probably illegal, not to mention dangerous.

I've been trying to use it like it's a treadmill, or maybe even the open road. Because while I can get through a spin class without missing running, trapping myself on that boring old gym standby has been absolute torture.

Instead of using it as both my orthopedist and the cute little illustrated chart on the equipment instructed, I've been putting it on low resistance, while going at at high speeds, for long periods of time--and have been pretty much been using my toes and calves to power forward, not my quadriceps.

I haven't committed this gym-sin to be a bad patient or because I wanted the amusement of being reprimanded by the sixteen year-old high school student in a YMCA T-shirt who nervously hands out demerits to disobedient patrons of the fitness center without making eye contact. ("Um, ma'am," his voice cracks, "I'm going to have to ask you to limit your time on the equipment to, um, to thirty minutes during, um, peak hours.")

I've just used the elliptical that way because it felt good, and it wasn't until my left knee said, "Now, hey there, lady!" while popping out to the side that I realized I was doing a bad, bad thing.

I have five more days till I can start running again. I think I'll stick to spin class until then. I know I could amp the elliptical resistance up to 12 or 13 and push and pull more and sprint less, but the fact is, I'm over that hunk of metal. What a boring and uncreative piece of machinery--compared to a bike in a dark room, or better yet, my own legs, running on asphalt.

Man, do I miss running!

You spin me round and round, like a record, I go round and round...

2009-12-10T07:51:00.000-05:00

I have a confession. I don't miss running. (Yet.) I LOVE spinning!

It's so imaginative. I am one of the least New Agey people I know, but pedaling in pitch blackness, cold sweat dripping down the sides of my face, listening to a mounting orchestra crescendo while the instructor commands, "You're almost at the peak of the mountain! Come on, lean to the left, you can see the crested peak!" is really cool.

Yes, getting up at 4:45 a.m. every day to get a bike at a 5:30 class is pretty brutal, but once I'm there, I'm in Utah, I'm in Colorado, I'm in the Himalayas. And that slow group of bikers the instructor keeps urging us to pass? I love passing them. Hah! And unlike running into real, living and breathing slow-walking elderly people on my jogging trail, I feel no remorse for leaving these imaginary bikers in my dust, because, of course, they are imaginary. (As is my dust.)

Anyway, it's fun stuff, and it's certainly worth getting out of bed for. That early.

I think my quads are getting the crash fitness course they need so I will be able to return to running next week strong enough to do a few miles without leaving my knee vulnerable to fatigue. Parts of my legs that were never sore certainly are speaking up. And maybe I'll even become a tad bit faster, if I can dare to dream. Pedaling fast up an imaginary mountain is good practice for sprinting to a real finish line. (Or so I am told.)

10 good things about NOT being able to run the marathon Jan. 31.

2009-12-07T16:06:00.000-05:00

Outcome of my orthopedist appointment today: my knee problem is, as he previously diagnosed, runner's knee, not a sprain or a break. He seemed pretty optimistic that I can fix this problem and return to my runner girl adventures simply by building up my quad strength and resting from running.

Ultimately, my prescription is:

1. No running for two weeks (boo!)
2. Spend the next two weeks spinning and using the elliptical to build up my weak quadriceps (yay!)
3. Begin running gently; maybe starting with 3-4 mile runs, not 10-12. (huh.)

This means no to the marathon Jan. 31; yes to running the half-marathon on this date instead.

Here, a "boo" won't do; give me some good dirty expletives. I'm devastated.

But, let's not dwell on that.

I'm always one to look on the bright side, even when faced with big, stinky, dream-dashing setbacks like this one. So here are 10 reasons for me to be happy that I don't have a date with 26.2 miles anytime soon.

1. I will be saving a small fortune on gels, shots, OxyClean for stinky post-run laundry, and iTunes.

2. People seem to think running a marathon is either very admirable--or truly crazy. With a half-marathon, the general response is, "Good for you." With what I've been through lately, I could stand a few more "good for yous" and a few less, "are you nuts?"

3. I've still raised a lot of money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society as a Team in Training teammate; running a shorter distance in this race doesn't take away from that fundraising accomplishment, which is actually more important (to me) than the athletic accomplishment of running the full race.

4. Spinning is fun.

5. My injury is not a break or a tear or anything that will cause me to sit around cursing at my dentures in my old age, regretting my years as a runner. Just a knee annoyance.

6. I'm a lot less likely to encounter dead rats, live, hopping frogs or strange pedestrians in the early morning spin studio than I did during my morning runs.

7. The Miami ING marathon course isn't known for being the most beautiful or scenic out there, especially for Florida residents who are bored rather than moved by the sight of palm trees and Spanish cosmetic surgery billboards. Maybe now I'll get to lose my marathon-running-virginity somewhere more exciting and romantic instead, like Big Sur.

8. My awesome college roommate Ava is going to run the Miami ING half. My plan was to run the first 13 with her and then push myself alone through the last 13. Now I'll have her company during the entire race.

9. You don't have to get up as early on Saturday mornings to run 8-10 miles with Team in Training as you do if you're supposed to run 18-22.

10. I can still run. That's the biggest silver lining of all.

Just gimmee a spin bike, a vaccuum cleaner...or an air guitar

2009-12-06T17:35:00.000-05:00

Good news about my knee: it's OK, I think.

I don't see my orthopedist till tomorrow to give me his expert's take on the state of my sprain, but as the knee's rightful owner, I can give you my semi-expert opinion that it seems to be healing nicely. I really only had two bad days of limping, icing and Advil. In fact, I spent yesterday exploring Universal Studios with my family and came pretty close to running with the stroller when my daughter told me no, she couldn't wait till after the ET Ride to use the potty.

Bad news about ME, though: I am in severe cardio withdrawal. This is the longest I've gone without exercise (I don't think sprinting to the Ladies' Room counts) since maybe 2008. It's making me restless. I find myself looking for excuses to move swiftly--racing, without actually running, to check whether there's a wait at a restaurant; leaping up, without actually jumping, to grab my kids an extra ketchup packet at Chick-Fil A.

I'm not sure what my ortho will tell me tomorrow about running, but I've got my fingers crossed he'll at least let me spin or use the elliptical, or vaccuum boisterously or something.

If I don't get my heart rate up into the 140s or higher soon, I'm going to become one of those fidgety women who never sits still, who is constantly twisting her rings around her fingers or fixing her kids' collars or pretending TV remotes haven't been invented so she has an excuse to change the channel manually.

Either that, or I'll audition for "So You Think You Can Dance."

Last night when we passed a grooving bar band at Unviersal's City Walk, my son started shaking his hips and doing some kind of quasi-karate-chop choreography, and I started--uncontrollably--shaking my hips and karate-chop dancing, too. Soon the two of us were burning up the pavers outside Jimmy's Margaritaville, air-guitaring, do-si do-ing, belly-gyrating and hair-tossing.

It was a blast, and as close I've come to the feeling of running since my injury.

So come on, Dr. Sheldon. Stop me before I dance again. Give me the green light to spin tomorrow. I can do a lot less damage cycling in the dark than shaking what my mama gave me out in public. And even though my kids love it now when I get down and get funky, they are young, 6 and 4. I think the video my husband took of me getting jiggy with it is more likely to be blackmail material for them than me one day, when they're older.

After running a half-marathon dressed like Rainbow Brite, I don't embarrass easily any more.

This isn't good.

2009-12-02T18:03:00.000-05:00

It happened again. My knee popped.

Five miles into my intended 18 today, pop. OUCH. I tried to run on it and ended up almost falling.

The five miles pre-pop were easy; limping home five miles was hard.

OK, I'm being stoic. It was beyond hard. It sucked. It it was upsetting. Humiliating. And frightening--what if this painful "pop" was a serious injury that would sideline me for months, if not indefinitely?

I ended up in the ER. And on crutches. It's a sprained ligament--they couldn't tell me more than that without an MRI. Which I will hopefully get on Monday, when I can get in to see my orthopedist.

It hurts and I'm upset. But being a silver-lining kind of gal, I'm not 100% convinced that being forced to take a break, even if it's for a few weeks, is such an awful thing right now.

I've been running on empty fumes for a few weeks now, ever since my half marathon in November, which I'm starting to think I should have taken the time to recover from.

You know, more than one day off.

I've felt run down. Exhausted. Waking up at 4 am has lost its die-hard charm and has become, well, waking up at 4 am.

I hate limping. I hate being sidelined. (And don't get me started on how much my armpits HATE crutches.)

But I'm hoping to return to the road a wiser, calmer and more well-rested runner. OK, I won't lie--at this point I'm scared, and I'm just hoping to return to the road, period. But if I could do it with better needs and a cooler head, I think that would be a good thing. Because having an "overuse" injury is no badge of honor.

Recovery.

2009-12-01T10:32:00.000-05:00

For the first time in seven months, when I woke up this morning, I didn't have a single ache or pain.

I haven't run since Saturday. My limbs feel light.

Tomorrow, I'm getting up at 4 a.m. to attempt 18 miles. I think I can do it.

In seven months, I haven't taken off more than one day from exercise. This is the first week where I ate and slept a lot, but didn't burn very much at all. Aside from a nasty head cold, I feel pretty good. Rested. Pampered even.

And ready to go.

Could you kindly take those voo-doo pins out of the left side of my body?

2009-11-28T20:58:00.000-05:00

I've figured it out. I'm on to you, hater.

The left side of my body is the only side that has given me trouble. I sprained my left ankle years ago, and occasionally I still have a feeling of "looseness" there after a long run. My left calf is the one that had the muscle strain; the left kneecap is the one that's been tingling lately. It actually hurt me today during my 11 mile training run, and after over-hearing me blurt out an expletive when I felt a "popping" sensation, my coach insisted I stop and get a ride home because once your knee is trouble, you're pretty much out of the game.

What I've figured is that I've really hurt or angered someone who has witchcraft powers, and they've made a small doll of me and are stabbing the left side of it again and again with a needle.

Maybe it was that nice elderly couple who I've run into, deliberately, when they ignored my requests to please move out of the way.

Maybe it was the mother at Wal-Mart who called her 2 year old a motherf&*% and smacked him on the arm. I looked her right in the eye with total disgust and said in a loud, cheerful voice, "What an adorable child you have. Aren't you lucky?"

Maybe it was the waitress at the Japanese restaurant who, a half hour or more after taking my order, long after the people I was dining with had been given their meals, gave me a platter of all white fish sushi when I specifically told her I wanted the number 7 but with no white fish, please. I let her have it. My coworkers still talk about how I can go "sushi style" when encountered with incompetent service; as far as I knew, though, there were no consequences to demanding of a bad waitress, "Did it ever occur to you that you're in the wrong line of work??" aside from regret later on that I'd been such a snot. But maybe she went into the kitchen after my tirade and voo-dooed me in.

I'm not saying I didn't have the voo-doo coming. I'm generally a nice person (honestly, I am!!) but I definitely have my moments of passive-aggressive malice, kind of a non-driving road rage that slow-moving walkers, abusive mothers and bad sushi waitresses tend to inspire.

But I get it. I need to calm down, and be nicer. Voo-doo practioner, O powerful one, I promise I will.

So could you please remove the pins from my left leg? I've got some major mileage ahead of me and I can't do it if my knee truly is in trouble. Right now, I'm looking at taking a few days off.

It's possible, I think, that my body is just very, very tired. But those pins sure aren't helping.

Not the knees!

2009-11-25T10:34:00.000-05:00

Thus far in my marathon training, I have suffered--and recovered--from the following conditions:

1. Shin splints
2. Oozing, bloody blisters
3. IBS attacks brought on after long distance runs
4. Calf muscle strain

Until a few days ago, I was plagued by #4, so I'd made an appointment with my orthopedist. But right after I made that appointment, I began using Zensah compression socks during my runs, and the two month-old calf injury finally and quite suddenly bid me adieu.

I was going to call to cancel the appointment, but just in case my lack of calf pain was a momentary reprieve, I thought I'd wait until the day it was scheduled just to make sure my calf still felt fine after my morning run.

My calf indeed felt fine.

But my knees (both of them) were tingling.

Not hurting, but tingling.

I live in fear of injured knees. I'm a "toe runner" so the injuries I'm most prone to are calf problems; "heel runners" are more likely to have knee, achilles and hip problems, my ortho says. And for this I consider myself lucky: a calf injury is a lot easier to train around than a knee problem.

For someone training for a long-distance event like a marathon or half marathon, in fact, a knee injury can be the kiss of death.

So I kept the appointment so I could get the tingling checked out. My doctor examined my calf (and affirmed that it had healed) as well as my knee...which he promptly diagnosed with the beginnings of "chondromalacia patella," or "runner's knee," which is an irritation of the undersurface of the kneecaps.

Oh no. Not the knees!

The doctor then told me that unlike my previous injuries, this one I was developing was actually quite serious. If it got more painful, I would have to stop running altogether, or else I could end up needing surgery that might sideline me from running indefinitely.

I sat there with my teeth chattering. "Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

"So you say you've only had this tingling sensation since you began wearing compression hose?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Just stop wearing your compression hose. Now that your calf is healed, there really isn't any reason to wear them anymore."

Phew. Not wearing garish purple hose while running v. wearing them and possibly destroying my kneecaps...hmmmm, not a tough decision.

I had told the doctor--proudly, actually--that the compression hose had changed the way I ran, so that I was using my upper legs more and putting less pressure on my toes. I thought this was a good thing; I'd been reading a book on why it was better to run with your head forward, neck elongated and less pressure on your lower legs.

But according to my orthopedist, converting from being a toe runner to a heel runner was what probably caused my kneecap irritation in the first place and that I should go back to how I was running before I wore the socks, because that clearly had worked for me.

Right now I'm wearing the Zensahs as a recovery tool, in between runs. But tomorrow when I do my own little turkey trot around my neighborhood (I'm not signed up for any of the local 5ks), I'll be doing it naked-legged.

My new Zensah-ation

2009-11-23T21:41:00.000-05:00

I was on the verge of spending hundreds of dollars on sports rehab, in a desperate attempt to find a solution to my two-month-old pulled calf muscle injury (which still was hurting in a way that no two-month-old injury should hurt.)

"It will be about one-fifty for the first session, then you'll need a half hour session every other day for two weeks, and those will run you $75," said the charming sports rehab doctor, after breaking the devastating news to me that his clinic didn't take my insurance.

Those "sessions," he warned me, would involve something that sounded "medeival." He was going to use shiny metal devices on my left calf to break up the scar tissue that was preventing my calf strain from healing.

I asked if it would hurt and he paused for a moment and replied, "It hurts so good."

Huh.

I told him I'd sleep on it, and the next day at my Team in Training practice, I asked my mentor about this clinic, because Doctor Hurts-So-Good had listed her as one of his patients.

"Oh, he's the best," she raved, causing me to ponder whether the expression "marathon runners can be masochists" was sometimes literal rather than metaphorical. "But if you have a calf strain, why not just wear compression hose?"

Compression hose. Those ugly purple Zensah socks I'd bought, wore once before I actually had the calf strain injury, and then decided I already looked clownish enough between my bright orange shoes and pastel running skirts to add Olive Oyl-like hose to the mix?

Yeah, I guess I could try them again.

I tried them out for the first time on Sunday, and after I got used to the sensation of running with my calves bound, making me feel like some small animal was grabbing onto my legs and squeezing them as I ran, I have to say I am a fan of my Zensahs. Although I didn't like it at first, the pressure on my calves actually forced me to run using better form: falling forward, shoulders relaxed and neck long, rather than putting the weight in my calves and running with my upper body all scrunched up. (I knew what proper form was, thanks to my father-in-law Lou, who gave me a book on the Alexander Method, but have to admit it's been hard to kick the habit of running hard on my legs--which is probably what got me into this calf strain mess in the first place.)

So, miraculously, one ten mile run later, the pain is pretty much gone. Not better, but gone! I just asked my husband to press right in the spot that had been so tender before that if he accidentally kicked me there in bed in the middle of the night, I'd scream out in agony. He pressed, and I felt nothing. I don't know where the pain went, but I can't say I miss it.

I'm so relieved that I didn't need to have the scar tissue tortured out of me with stainless steel devices ("hurts so good" indeed) to the tune of almost a thousand dollars.

I just wish Zensah offered the socks in my size in a color other than purple. (Not the pinkish color pictured above; we're talking Flying Purple People Eater grape.) I'm starting to think that the universe is conspiring to make me look as absurd as possible when I run. It makes me feel a little bit like a court jester--and look a lot like one.

Just call me Chumbawumba.

2009-11-22T12:52:00.000-05:00

Remember Chumbawumba? Think back to the summer of '98. They had this catchy drinking song, "I get knocked down, but I get up again..." Well, that's officially my theme song (since we're talking about the late 90s, I guess I have Ally McBeal and her theme song on the brain.)

I'm not talking about mixing whiskey and vodka, falling down and then gathering myself up and staggering upwards again--though I have to say that a week after running a half-marathon, my runs have felt kind of like a slow, drunken stagger. But what I mean is that something gets hard, the asphalt kicks me instead of me kicking the asphalt, and I get down. Then I get up again, and I keep going.

I couldn't do 16 yesterday. I couldn't do 4.1, to be precise. But today I slept in, had a banana, peanut butter and some strong coffee, laced up and ran 9.5 on my own. (I meant to do 10 but I mis-mapped.) The last time I tried to do anything in the 9-10 range on my own, I had to walk home, but this time it was actually easy.

Five miles into the run I stopped feeling cranky and burned out and realized I was back to my old rhythm. Buh-bye, burn-out. I actually wish I hadn't used that word. I'm sure one day I truly will be burned out, but yesterday, I just needed a day off.

I'm really proud of my 9.5. I'm sure I would have been very proud of 16, but yesterday, it just wasn't meant to be. I used to be the kind of person who accepted nothing less than excellence from herself, but now I'm starting to learn that a crappy training run happens to everyone. To me, this is the most life-changing thing about running. You learn to just get over things that have you down. One failure doesn't define your life. It just becomes part of the process.

Burn out.

2009-11-21T19:02:00.000-05:00

So today I was supposed to run 16 miles. The only problem was that 3 1/2 miles into my run, I had a mental temper tantrum where I declared I hated running, was sick of waking up at 4 am to run for hours, suffering from stomach issues and sore legs the rest of the day, and would much rather be planted on a couch sleeping, eating ice cream, or both.

A half mile later I was at my car with tears in my eyes. I went home and told my husband that I was disappointed in myself for being a quitter. He told me that I was hardly a quitter; hadn't I just run a half-marathon six days earlier?? Maybe I was just tired.

Maybe I was. So I went to sleep. And when I woke up, I decided that no, I didn't hate running. In fact, I still loved it. Waking up at 4 am once a week isn't all that bad, and the soreness and tummy problems are things I've gotten very accustomed to shrugging off, because usually the sense of accomplishment I get from these long runs overrides these complaints.

But sometimes you have to listen to the complaints. Sometimes you need a break. I'm not sure how long my break will last, but today I certainly needed it.

People have been warning me for months of "burn out" and I always shrugged it off, thinking it was mind over matter. But there's definitely a physical component to burn out, so I'm going to need to ride this break out and practice the New-Agey sounding art of "listening to my body." I'm afraid that if I don't, it simply will go on strike.

My Review of Nike+ Women's LunarGlide Running Shoe

2009-11-19T11:59:00.001-05:00

Originally submitted at The Sports Authority

The Nike+® women's LunarGlide running shoe is ideal for the runner with a neutral to mildly overpronated gait. The shoe delivers plush cushioning, springy response, barely-there comfort and mild pronation control. The mesh upper offers lightweight breathability, while the OrthoLite® s...

Great running shoe for flat feet!

By run-jorie-run.blogspot.com from South Florida on 11/19/2009

Sizing: Feels true to size

Width: Feels true to width

Pros: Lightweight, Stable, Comfortable, Flexible, Good Traction, Breathable, Absorbs Shock

Cons: Wears Out Quickly

Best Uses: Pavement, Wet Conditions, Gym, Track

Describe Yourself: Gym Rat

Arch Type: Low Arch

I ran my first half marathon in these Lunarglides and love them! I have very difficult feet. They are flat, but I am a neutral runner. I am now training for my first marathon and rack up a lot of mileage, and the Lunarglides have served me well. I don't get shin splints and even my plantar fascitis doesn't act up--with no orthodics! My one complaint is that I'm buying a second pair after just 260 miles on the first pair. So they wear out fast. That being said, they offer me the most comfortable, blister and shin splint free runs, so it's worth it to me to go back to the same brand/make.

(legalese)

Happy race pictures from Sunday's 13.1

2009-11-18T20:56:00.000-05:00

OK, yes, I did get dressed in the dark that morning--but hey, at least I'm smiling in these race pictures! (In previous races, I've looked distraught, queasy, and mad.)

Note to self: next time lay out race gear the night before to avoid teal/grape-purple combination, especially because my shoes are white and orange. If there were an atheletic version of "What Not to Wear," I'd be a good candidate in these pictures!

Sweat Sixteen

2009-11-18T16:22:00.000-05:00

Is there anything sweet about running sixteen miles? I hope so. That’s how many I’m running on Saturday (alarm is set for 4:15 a.m.—ack!) and I have been trying to psych myself up for the run by silently chanting the phrase, “sweet sixteen, sweet sixteen,” because I actually do find that having a positive attitude about an upcoming run usually means the run will be a fun one; it’s when I fear the mileage that I find myself dragging.

So, yeah! Sixteen miles! Around two and a half hours of straight, uninterrupted running: easy-peasy. Bring it on! Can’t wait for my sweet sixteen part-ay!

Anyway.

Yesterday at work, with this chant of sweet sixteen sweet sixteen still in my head, I called our help desk because I needed to get a new temporary password. The help desk attendant (who clearly hadn’t been an English major) typed noisily on her keyboard for a few minutes and then told me my new password was SWEET.

I tried typing this in and when it didn’t grant me access, and she said, “Oops, sorry, I spelled it wrong. Try SWEAT.”

That worked.

Hopefully this won’t be an omen that my 16 will be all sweat and no sweet. I mean, I expect the sweat. But I also expect the sweet. (Which indeed might be expecting too much.)

Good times: My first half marathon

2009-11-15T17:02:00.000-05:00

I survived my first half marathon! Actually, I did more than survive it. I rocked the Ft. Lauderdale 13.1 Wooo-hoo!

I ran at a happy, comfortable pace the whole time, enjoyed the feeling of the sea breeze on my face--oh and speaking of my face, I also made very goofy faces for the cameras (since I take terrible race pictures anyway, I figured I'd rather look happy and awful than miserable and awful, as I have in all my other races).

I'll post the race pics as soon as they are up, but be prepared for some very hammy smiles and a few sucked-in-cheeks mock-model moues.

Oh, and the time. I ran it in 2:02:02. I think that's a good time, especially because it was my first half, and I was going for fun more than speed. I won't lie: because I've had a few long runs that were below a 9 minute mile, I was hoping not to crack the 2s at all. But as soon as I crossed that finish line, I didn't care so much about the time. All I could think was, "I did it!" Because, I did it!

To me, a fun run is more important right now than speed, which I have the rest of my life to work on. (You should see some of the senior citizens who flew past me at the half marathon! They left me in their Bengay-scented dust.) Considering how Type A I've been at all my previous runs, I think my new mellow mentality is a really big accomplishment. Having a good time was actually a tougher obstacle for me than acheiving a good time, if that makes any sense.

Stay tuned for my wacky race pictures!

Feeling iffy about Cliffy.

2009-11-12T10:38:00.000-05:00

I have mixed feelings about Clif bars.

On one hand, they seem to be the only food I can consume immediately after a long run that doesn't make me sick to my stomach--and they also help keep my hunger in check the rest of the day. Believe me, I've experimented with everything else, from a modest packet of apple slices to a fluffy pile of pumpkin pancakes.

What I've found is: eating less than a 250 calorie Clif bar ultimately results in dizzying, staggering hunger several hours later (the kind where you could eat an entire pizza and still want more); much more calories than a Clif, though, and I can't even tell you the bathroom misery I experience. (I will never eat pumpkin pancakes again!)

So I'm grateful to Clif for settling my stomach and preventing me from becoming one of those rare, legendary but not mythical "fat" marathon runners.

But taste-wise, Clif, my man, the thrill is gone.

Eating a Clif bar once a week is actually starting to remind me of my fling with Slimfast shakes in the summer of 2003, when I was trying to lose brand-new-baby weight fast enough to wear a size 6 dress to a cousin's wedding. (In case you're wondering, it worked, but to this day just seeing a Slimfast commercial makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth.)

At first I thought the Clif bars were yummy, just like I remember thinking, "Mmmm, chocolate milkshakes!" But now I'm beyond bored. I have a Clif bar aversion. I'd like to throw my stash of them off a cliff, if truth be told. Bring on the real food, please! Something that doesn't vaguely remind me of carrot cake, without actually being carrot cake. Something that isn't inspired by a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie, without actually being a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie.

So help me out, please. Tell me, what can I eat that won't make me sick? That's in the 250ish calorie range and has the same balance of carbs and protein that Clif has?

I'm going to assume real carrot cake and chocolate chip cookies are not options because of the fat and lack of protein, but if the recovery grub could be tasty enough that I actually look forward to eating it after a run, that would be a plus.

14 Thoughts on Having Run 14 Miles

2009-11-09T10:49:00.000-05:00

1. I did it! I ran 14 miles!!

2. Whoahhhhh, we’re (more than) halfway there….whooo-ohhhh, running on a prayer… (Come on, you knew that was coming!)

3. I have ignored the expert’s advice by flying through the first 11 miles and limping like a one-legged dog through the last three—but HEY, experts, get this: I RAN 14 MILES!

4. Advil and Immodium AD are a long-distance runner’s wonder drugs.

5. The best part of my run was that aside from the last half hour, I was really, really enjoying myself. Big smile on my face (till it turned into a grimace.)

6. The worst part of my run was not the last half hour but the hour after I stopped running, which would have been even worse without the aforementioned runner’s wonder drugs.

7. I know “real” runners don’t like to listen to music while running—they all say that during their “Runner’s World” interviews—but I really want to know how they get through several hours of running with no iTunes. (I give “Right Said Fred” partial credit for my 14 miles—how can you not run gleefully while listening to “I’m Too Sexy”?)

8. Hey Fred, I’m also too sexy for my shirt. (It’s all mildewed and frayed and no amount of OxyClean will remove the stench. Time to hit the Nike outlet.)

9. Two hours, 9 minutes is a pretty good time for a novice runner to run 14 miles.

10. Two hours, 9 minutes is a really long time to spend holding an insulated water bottle.

11. Two hours, 9 minutes is a really long time for me to spend without stopping to use the bathroom.

12. I refuse to pee in a bush. No offense real runners who happily pee in bushes while not listening to iTunes. I’d rather get a UTI from holding it in because I'm too sexy to pee on shrubbery.

13. My first-ever half marathon next Sunday will be .9 miles shorter than what I ran on Saturday.

14. Why do I have a feeling that 13.1 miles in a race setting will be a lot harder than 14 miles on familiar territory?

Frightening Fourteen.

2009-11-03T19:35:00.000-05:00

I know what you're thinking. A chick who signs up to run a marathon, which is 26.2 miles, really shouldn't be reduced to a quivering puddle of Jell-O every time her Team in Training coach ups the ante on her training schedule. If you're in it for the full 26, you need to be prepared to do more than, you know, twenty minutes of cardio in preparation.

But did I mention that this Saturday, I am supposed to be running 14 miles?

Which seems infininitely larger than the 12 miles I completely two weeks ago.

It even seems bigger to me than the 13.1 miles I'm signed up to run in a week from now, when I do the Ft. Lauderdale AIA.

This is probably the point in training when a lot of people change their minds about doing the full marathon and switch to the half.

I haven't had any trouble so far ramping up my mileage...but I also haven't done 14 yet.

I guess I'll just have to see how it goes. I have a feeling that the less I think about the number 14, the easier it will be.

Sometimes you have to just close your eyes, hold your breath and jump in.

So Saturday morning at 5:15, I'll be jumping.

Flat-footed. And fat-footed.

2009-11-01T18:21:00.000-05:00

An update on my feet, after trying on just about every size 9 shoe in Target today.

They have not grown any bigger. They are just a lot fatter.

Seeing my feet in size 9s reminded my of my almost-four-year-old daughter stomping around the house in my favorite peep-toe pumps (which no longer fit me); there was a good half inch of negative space between my heel and the back of the shoe. But my feet have become so wide that even in a 9W, it was a tight squeeze, especially in the toe area. These little piggies have gottena little piggish.

So now I don't get to to go shopping for the discounted "big girl" 9s at DSW. If I want new kicks, I'm going to have to find special double-wide 8s at the double-wide shoe store, wherever in South Florida that might be.

In the meantime, it looks like I'm confined to my running sneaks and flip-flops, and one pair of slightly less beachy sandals I can wear to work.

It's a good thing it's still in the 80s down here and I can get away with such casual accessorizing. Just think of wearing boots makes my feet tingle...and not in a good way.

Shouldn't 9 miles be "easy" by this point?

2009-10-31T18:50:00.000-04:00

Because I wouldn't call my "taper" run today with Team in Training easy. Nine miles still feels like nine miles: a long, challenging run.

I remember the first time I ran 9 miles. I was wiped out for three days straight. But I've come a long way since then--last week I had a triumphant 12 miler--and mistakenly believed I could just whip out 9 miles like it was nothing.

It went the way all of my long runs have gone. The first three were easy, the middle three were tiring, then I got a second wind and coasted home the rest of the way. But 7-8 miles into the run, I really wanted to know, "Are we there yet?" And I wasn't.

I have fantasies, of course, that 9 miles will feel like "nothing" when I'm running the marathon. I've got three months till the ING...maybe there's hope for me yet.

My pre-run ritual

2009-10-28T20:32:00.000-04:00

As my weekday training runs get longer and longer, I have to wake up earlier and earlier these days. But more mileage is only part of the reason why I'm setting my iPhone to strum a good morning song at 5:35 a.m.

The other reason is my pre-run ritual has gotten more and more complicated. I used to just lace up and go. Now, this is my process.

1. Wake up and turn off alarm before husband wakes up.
2. Gather up workout clothes, set aside from the night before, and go into bathroom.
3. Brush teeth, take vitamins, Advil and allergy meds (all necessary for a run these days).
4. Dampen strap from heart rate monitor with warm water.
5. Put on heart rate monitor chest strap and watch and test twice to make sure it's picking up on my frequencies.
6. Put on sports bra, tank top and running skirt or leggings.
7. Strategically place safety lights on front and back of body.
8. Sit on the floor on a towel and apply baby powder to feet to prevent blisters.
9. Put on Nike Dri Fit socks, making sure left sock goes on left foot; right sock on right foot.
10. Put on sneakers; check lace tightness.
11. Make sure iPod "On the Go" playlist is acceptable.
12. Turn off Wi-Fi so that RunKeeper GPS program can work.
13. Put iPod in arm holster and plug in earphones.
14. Go outside and stretch.
15. Turn on safety lights.
16. Hit "Shuffle" on iPod.
17. Turn on RunKeeper.
18. Run.

The strange thing is, I really look forward to my pre-run ritual. It is a lot of work, but it also kind of reminds me of getting ready for a black tie affair; the preparation is part of the fun. There's no open bar to look forward to, of course, but when no one's looking, sometimes I do a little jig as I'm running, like I'm out there twirling around in taffeta on a dance floor...

I Know Where You Ran Last Summer

2009-10-27T13:49:00.000-04:00

Dear City of Weston:

I realize times are tight and the “Halloween decorations” line in the city budget probably got slashed, but I think we’re all OK without the paper orange pumpkins. Your creative alternative of removing the light bulbs in most of the streetlamps, in an attempt to “spook-ify” the streets for anyone who might be on them before dawn, might have been taking the scary Halloween spirit just a little too far.

Though I must say, if scary was what you were going for, you hit a home run.

This morning, I was running in almost complete darkness as the deceased Michael Hutchence of ‘80s band INXS fame cackled “The Devil Inside” on my iPod, when I collided mouth-first with a giant spider web. And I screamed. A long, shrill, harrowing scream that surely frightened the other people out on the trails. (There you go, Weston: free Halloween sound effects.)

Picking the spindly strings out of my mouth, I began to wonder of the direction of my life had been taken over by some Alfred Hitchcock wanna-be.

This wasn’t the first time this week I felt this way. In fact on Sunday, during my long run, I realized I could very well be smack in the middle of a classic Halloween slasher flick. It was just me and my beautiful Team in Training running mentor, our long dark ponytails blowing in the wind. So there we were, two young(ish) women stranded alone in pitch blackness, with just small red blinking lights stuck onto our clothes for vision. It was a good two mile stretch on Bonaventure, between Royal Palm and South Post, without a single functioning street lamp. As we ran past dead animals (is there anything more chilling than tripping over a dead possum?) with spider webs caught in our hair, the timing was perfect for some bloodshot-eyed zombie to come out from the middle of nowhere and suck our blood, dismember us or do whatever else the scary bad guys do in these movies. (I’ve never actually seen one of these gory scenes; this is usually the part when I hide my face in my hands or decide I really need to leave the theater and use the bathroom.)

If you, too, would like to be able to come up with plots to trashy horror “B” movies, there’s nothing like being alone with your thoughts for a good few hours to get the creative juices flowing. Or the blood flowing, depending on how you look at it.

I’m not holding my breath for the City of Weston to fix the streetlamp problem. I actually called them, twice, and they said it was the power company’s fault, but Florida Light and Power said it was Weston’s fault, so I don’t see this issue being resolved any time soon.

I do see Daylights Savings on the horizon, though—so my long run this Saturday, which is Halloween, might be my last scary run…till next fall.

Happy Halloween.

Ode to a Banana (or how I survived my 12 mile run)

2009-10-24T18:33:00.000-04:00

Oh Banana, Banana, I love you so

I ran 12 miles & didn't have to go!

Thanks to you, my kind yellow friend

I didn't need to run wearing Depends.

Banana, without you where would I be?

(I'd be in the bathroom, moaning, "Why me?")

***

The nice thing about having a blog about training for my first marathon is that when I have a question about a running problem, I actually get a lot of good advice. Last week I asked whether I'd have to run today's 12 miler on an empty stomach because my previous double-digit runs had left me in gastrointestinal agony.

From all of you, I got great advice, empathy and even some sample menus. I was able to use these suggestions to put together a strategy for this week's run--and hooray! The strategy worked. Today I went the furthest I've ever gone, 12 miles, finished in 1:54 which actually included a five minute water break, and best of all, didn't have an upset stomach at any point.

I thought I'd write out this strategy so that (a) I can remember it for future long runs, and (b) I can offer it up to any other runners who suffer from IBS.

If you couldn't tell by my brilliant banana poetry, bananas were a big part of this plan. Many people emailed me to tell me what a perfect pre-run fuel a banana is, but what was especially persuasive to me was that my father, who has Crohn's disease and is genetically responsible for my IBS (thanks, Dad!), told me he's been pretty much symptom free since he began eating bananas with peanut butter. I was hoping my body would react to bananas (with some peanut butter added for protein) the same way, and luckily, it did.

Here's the eating/drinking plan I followed (you may recognize some of your own advice here, and if so, thanks!)

Day before the run

Follow the "residual diet" that people with severe Crohn's and IBS follow, which is basically all refined carbs, low-acid fruits and vegetables and simply prepared meats.
Eat a heavy lunch but a light dinner that contains a simple carb
Drink a lot of water dall day. NO GATORADE! (Electrolyte drinks are a big IBS trigger)
Do something relaxing (I took Pilates Friday morning.)

Morning before the run

Wake up at least an hour before the run (4:15 am today!!) and eat a banana with peanut butter and some black coffee (no milk)
Dress in loose fitting clothes
Don't wear a fuel belt or anything else tight around your waist (I carried my water)

During the run

Drink room-temperature water. Don't drink sports drinks. Don't drink too much, either.
Have a very small amount of performance fuel after 45 minutes of running (I ate a few Jelly Belly Sport Beans, not the whole pack)
Relax. Being too tense or running faster than you're comfortable can be perceived as stress.

After the run

Within 30 minutes eat a Clif bar or another high protein/carb food that is made from natural ingredients
After that, don't eat again for three or four hours
Have a relatively large lunch and afternoon snack and a very light dinner

Advice offered but discarded (sorry!): give up running altogether because people with IBS can't run. That might be true for some people, but I just don't buy it for me. Hey, we colon-impaired people can do anything, with the right fuel and the right strategy!

10 Ways Training for a Marathon Is Like Being Pregnant

2009-10-21T19:53:00.000-04:00

1. You wear special bras.

2. You're hungry. Not an idle tummy rumbling, not a hmmm, what do I want to eat, but a deep, clamoring urgency to devour the fresh, buttery green inside of an avocado, to crunch between your teeth a tart apple dipped into a mound of peanut butter, to gnaw on a doughy bagel topped with whipped cream cheese like some wild animal chewing on a bone--oh, and you want all this food STAT.

3. Another week, another new (hopefully minor) ailment. People get used to you complaining whether you've got a due date or a race date.

4. Your feet get bigger.

5. When you have to go to the bathroom, you really have to go to the bathroom. The big difference: the women waiting in line for the next available stall might let a mama with a baby bump cut ahead, but a sweaty, doubled-over runner squeezing her legs together is going to have to wait her turn.

6. You glow.

7. You sweat at inappropriate times.

8. You find yourself repeating the phrases, "Well, I guess there's no turning back now!" and "What have I gotten myself into?" Sometimes you say them in a resigned way, sometimes with determination; other times, a note of sheer terror can be detected in your voice.

9. You sometimes walk with a waddle.

10. You have genuine faith that the "finish line" will be worth the aches, pains, mood swings, mornings spent sick in the bathroom, blood, sweat and tears. Which is why, despite all these things, you soldier on through it happily, always concious of how many weeks, then days, are left in your countdown.

So, uh, if anyone would like to throw me a "runner's shower" (is there somewhere I can register for a Garmin?), I'm generally available on Sundays...

Big Foot

2009-10-20T12:22:00.000-04:00

Running might slim your hips and trim your thighs—but does it make your feet fat?

None of my shoes fit. I’ve dropped two dress sizes, and even my new clothes have gotten baggier—to the point where my 6 year old recently asked me, “Mommy, why can I always see your underpants when you sit down?”

But my feet have turned into big, puffy bricks. I used to wear a size 8 or 8 ½ shoe. By the way my feet are busting the seams of my zip-up calf boots, I’m guessing I’m now at least a 9. [Can’t type this without cringing: if I’m honest with myself, I suspect I’m probably up to a 9 ½. Nooooo!]

Before I go score some big bargains at DSW (the “big girl” shoes are almost always on clearance), I have to consider the swelling factor. I don’t think running has actually elongated the bones in my feet or made the flesh of my foot fuller. I think my feet swell after a run, and that makes choosing footwear in the morning, after I’ve done a 5-mile loop, make me empathize with those mean ugly stepsisters who never could get their toes inside Cinderella’s slipper.

But by the end of the day, conceivably, a size 9 shoe that felt great when I first got dressed would become too big since I’d no longer be swollen from the run, causing the bane of any runner’s existence: blisters!

[I’m just trying to talk myself out of shopping for size 9+ shoes, of course. I’m 5’4 and have no business wearing shoes that big. I might as well strap a diving board to each foot—that would look just as fabulous.]

I really don’t have the luxury of being vain about my shoe size, though. Blisters from ill-fitting footwear have the potential to ruin quite a few future runs, so I think I just need to suck it up, pack away by 8s for the next few months, and start shopping in the section where the 5’11 supermodels—and drag queens—shop. With 90% of the female population needing a smaller size than me*, at least I should have plenty to choose from.

*Not a scientifically acquired statistic; made up out of thin air.

Can I run 12 miles on an empty stomach?

2009-10-17T16:11:00.000-04:00

I ask because I think I might have to try that next weekend: 12 miles without having eaten first.

This is the second week in a row that running 10 miles led to me spending some real quality time in the bathroom a few hours later, in a cold sweat. I feel better now, but it was so bad I was actually convinced for a short time that I'd caught a serious illness--or had been poisoned. It was that bad. And much worse than what I went through last week.

I've done a little Google-research and found an article that had some do's and don'ts for running long distance if you have a sensitive stomach. (I have IBS). Looks like I've been doing all don'ts and no do's because I:

Ate less than an hour before running and less than an hour after the running is complete;
Ate heavily the night before;
Used performance candy (Jelly Belly Sport Beans)
Wore a belt tight around my waist when I ran (to hold the water) rather than looser clothes.

I'm also supposed to avoid dairy for 24 hours before a long distance run (had pizza for dinner last night, followed by frozen yogurt) and high fiber foods and vegetables (I'd say 80% of my diet is whole grains and fresh produce.)

So I have a bit of a game plan for next week. I am going to try running after a lighter dinner (but heavier lunch) the night before, changing out my fuel belt for a hand-held water bottle, and of course avoiding dairy altogether. I had an egg white and soy patty for breakfast today and wonder if the lack of carbs/too much protein could be where I'm going wrong.

I am hesitant to cut out a pre-run breakfast altogether, though, because I do need the energy. Maybe I can have a plain piece of toasted wheat bread. I don't want an upset stomach after everytime I do a long run...but I also can't see eating nothing before or after burning around 1000 calories.

Fortunately, the run itself was great. I beat last week's time by four minutes and had fun the whole time. Now if I could just get to the point where I feel great after a long run, I'll be in good shape.

Off for another dose of Bentyl...

The ouch explained: Medial gastrocnemius strain

2009-10-16T11:40:00.000-04:00

And the grand prize of a signed copy of my book, Bride in Overdrive, goes to Kristen, who guessed a muscle strain. I am also offering a copy to my father-in-law Lou (I think he already has several, since his son is the book's main character), even though he didn't follow the contest rules of posting his diagnosis directly on this blog, because his email actually contained the exact words I heard from my orthopedist's mouth: "medial gastrocnemius strain." Which means a pulled calf muscle.

Here's a picture of exactly where it hurts:. That tiny red part sure does smart! The bad news is that I can expect to feel discomfort there for as long as two more months! (He said calf strains usually are a problem for 2-6 weeks but can last for 3 months, and I've been hurting for 4 weeks so far.)

The good news is my shin splints, which he treated me for earlier this year, are completely healed. And the other good news is that I don't have to change anything to my current routine aside from stretching three times a day. I can still run. So with his blessing, I'm all set for another 10 miles tomorrow.

Congratulations to Lou and Kristen, and thanks to Sarah, Kate and Leah for playing! (Kristen, if you email me your mailing address, I'll send that book right out to you. joriemark@gmail.com.)

Guess my diagnosis--and win a prize!

2009-10-15T11:44:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow I'm going to see my orthopedist because I've been having some calf pain for several weeks now--really, ever since I attempted to do hundreds of weighted lunges and squats at the YMCA "Pump It Up" three weeks ago.

I'm really anxious that he's going to tell me I have some kind of serious ailment that requires retiring from running, so I've been Googling things like "calf pain" and "running injuries" in advance of the appointment. The best-case scenario would be him laughing, patting me on the back, and saying, "It's totally normal for your left calf to ache when you wake up in the morning, hurt for the first mile of your run, then feel better until about an hour after your run. It's also normal for your left calf to tingle. Don't do anything differently!"

But I have a feeling that's not going to happen. I'm concerned about tendonitis (although my achilles heel feels fine), a knee injury (although my knee feels fine) or worse.

So I'm having a contest. Guess what my problem is and I will happily send you a free, signed copy of my book, Bride in Overdrive: A Journey into Wedding Insanity and Back, published by St. Martin's Press in 2004. It's a book marketed for "anyone who's given serious thought to what kind of underwear she'll wear when she walks down the aisle."

If you already own a copy--or if you're a smart shopper and have a friend or relative who is engaged to be married or a recent bride--I can sign the copy to someone else.

I know, not the most exciting of prizes, but hey, it's a tough economy.

So the rules are, you need to post a comment at the end of this blog before 9 a.m. EST tomorrow, Friday, October 16, with what you think my calf problem is. The first commenter who gets the right answer will have my book mailed to them, free of charge, with the autograph written to whoever they want it to be addressed to.

Good luck!

Hold me.

2009-10-13T16:28:00.000-04:00

I just got my training schedule for October (a few weeks late) and it's pretty intense compared to the past two months. Scanning these big numbers with my jaw dropped open, it finally hit me: I am crazy. I am truly crazy.

I have signed up to run a marathon.

What was I thinking?

Even the word marathon is long. Compare it to run. Run is what I do around my neighborhood, 3 miles here, 7 miles there. Marathon is what athletes do. Not klutzes who faked mysterious illnesses rather than run around the track in high school.

I'm supposed to do another 10 miles this weekend, and after that, the plot thickens. Five mile weekday runs, then 12 on the weekend.

I am petrified to see the November schedule. I'm signed up to run the A1A half-marathon November 15; maybe by then I will be used to regularly running double-digit routes.

Or maybe not.

Sometimes being an impulsive, spontaneous person is a good thing. You never let life get boring; you take risks. You do things before you can be afraid to regret them.

Other times you do things and later on are shocked that you did them. You wake up, blink, look around you, and find yourself running alongside thousands of other people and shriek, "What am I doing here????"

So tell me, please, what am I doing here?

Don’t judge a woman until you’ve run a mile in her compression hose

2009-10-12T13:41:00.000-04:00

I used to see this woman running all the time who wore a super-short running skirt and what I thought were white knee-high socks. I am a nice person all in all, but I do have a bit of a snide side, and I remember thinking to myself, “Nice look you’ve got there, Wonder Woman.”

Actually, she was a bit more like Molly Shannon’s SNL “Mary Katherine Gallagher” character than Lynda Carter. I kept waiting for her to shout out “Superstar!” and then stick her hands under her armpits to sniff them.

But a few weeks ago my left calf started to hurt, more when I ran but achy when I wasn’t running, too. I tried hot baths, hinting to the pedicurist to “dig a little deeper” during the lotion-application part of the treatment, Advil, ice, heat, arthritis lotion, everything. My calf tightness would loosen up after about four miles of running, but return after I stopped.

I mentioned this during my run on Saturday, and one of my Team in Training teammates suggestion compression hose.

I had no idea what they were, but when I asked to see a pair at Runner’s Depot the next day, wouldn’t you know it? With my running skirt, I indeed look like a nervous Catholic school girl. Just call me Superstar. Sometimes when I’m nervous, I like to stick my fingers under my armpits and smell them…

Actually, the pair I got is purple, and I only wear them on my left side, so maybe I look more like The Joker from Batman than Mary Katherine.

A few other “judgments” I had of other runners when I first began running—that I now wish I could take back:

Smirking at the fanny pack: I remember thinking, when seeing a hyper-equipped runner, “Are you running or are you going on an elephant safari?” But this was back in the day when all I thought I needed to run were sneakers and headphones. Now for my longer runs I wear a fuel belt (which is just a nice name for a fanny pack) equipped with water bottles, sport beans, reflector lights, a sweat rag and more.

Snickering at Richard Simmons wanna-bes: Seeing an old, skinny man running in nothing but tissue-paper-thin running shorts or briefs always gave me a case of the giggles. But eventually I figured out that the weight of your clothing really does have an impact on your performance. True, you won’t see me dressing like I’m ready to Sweat to the Oldies or running in the equivalent of Spandex underwear. But on a really hot day, I’ll choose the lightest weight shorts and tank that I own. (I even weighed two different running skirts once on my digital food scale.)

Turning my nose up at treadmill addicts: Long before I became a runner, I might hop on the treadmill for 15-20 minutes to warm up before lifting weights, taking a kickboxing class, etc. I never understood why there were people who seemed to live on the treadmill. They’d be on it before I got there and still plugging away when I left my kickboxing class. “This is a great gym!” I felt like exclaiming to them. “Why don’t you get off that boring machine and explore it?” But now I realize that they were probably long distance runners stuck indoors because it was raining outside—and I wouldn’t have wanted to stop what I was doing to take kickboxing, either.

Oh well—you live and learn, and you learn not to judge. So if you see a runner with one grape-juice-purple leg limping past you, try not to laugh. Otherwise, one day, that purple one-legged runner might be you.

10 miles, baby!

2009-10-10T16:38:00.000-04:00

So...10 miles. In 90 degree heat. No major injuries to report, no new blisters (I can't tell you how much I swear by the combination of Nike Lunar Glides and Dri Fit socks and about a half a cup of talcum powder on each foot). I was just under a 10 minute mile at 1:38. And I didn't puke up my Powerade! Life is good.

But I had one strange, awful moment about two hours after I finished running my first double-digit run with my team.

It was 9:30 am, and I was happily watching my 6 year old's Little League game (he also was having a good day--my little switch hitter got three nice hits!) when I suddenly and desperately needed to relocate from the bleachers to the lovely Weston Regional Park ladies' room. All I can say is, I'm glad I went when I went. My presence was most definitely required.

After that lovely visit, as I was walking back to the stands, I began sweating profusely--you'd think I was still on mile 8--and shivering. It was in the 90s by then and I was shivering!

A nice mom on my son's team saw me looking like, I don't know, a heroin addict in withdrawal (confession: I'm a huge "Intervention" fan so I actually have an idea of what a heroin addict in withdrawal looks like), and brought me a cold Dasani, which helped tremendously.

So did eating the saltiest hot pretzel they had to offer at the concession stand. (I actually said to the teenager working there, "No, can you give me the one that's completely white all over?") Man did that salt taste good! And just like that, I was all better again.

I returned to the bleachers and after thanking the Dasani mom for her kindness and convincingly explaining to her that I was a running addict, not a drug addict, I enjoyed the rest of the game, my 3 1/2 year old's ballet practice an hour later--and the two hour nap I took when all of that was over.

So, that weird, sweaty moment during the baseball game aside, I'd say I survived my first Florida 10 miler. Next time, I think I'll have some super-salty pretzels, or maybe just a big container of Morton's, waiting for me right after my run, though. The body does strange things when it gets low on electrolytes.

Finish Line Fantasies

2009-10-08T11:06:00.000-04:00

Sometimes when I’m running, I like to imagine what would be the ultimate finish line crossing experience. I’d sprint past it on fresh legs, as if I’d just taken a quick lap around my development, not a grueling 26.2 miles; the Black Eyed Peas would be playing “Pump It” live from the sidelines; the race organizer would say, “What are YOU doing here? We weren’t expecting to see you for at least another hour! Marge, someone get this lady a bottle of water!”

But after my speedy-but-stressful10k experience last weekend, I realize that simply crossing that 26.2 mile mark in one relatively uninjured piece is all I can really aspire to. I’d say my top three priorities for the Miami ING would be:

1. Completing it.
2. Not requiring hospitalization during the race.
3. Not requiring hospitalization after the race.

Should the racing gods grant me those three wishes, I would get just a bit greedier:

4. Not being in excruciating pain (giant bloody blisters, shooting shin splints)
5. Not being in bearable but still very unpleasant pain (tight calves; sore butt)
6. Not having any bathroom emergencies

And getting a little greedier than that:

7. My husband and kids would actually see me cross the finish line, and wouldn’t be stuck in Miami traffic or frantically trying to find a parking space on South Beach
8. My iPod, heart rate monitor, headphones, fuel belt and sports bra would all do their jobs and not break mid-race
9. I would look something other than confused, miserable or angry when crossing the finish line—happy or proud would be great (A little race picture history: first 5k, looked frighteningly determined; second 5k, looked about to puke; first 10k, well, I think the picture below says it all)

Finally, my least important but most burning fantasy would be to:

10. Get a good time.

But if that doesn’t happen, and #1-9 do, or honestly, #1-5, I will still consider the marathon to be a totally fantastic experience.

Cool down (please, cool down, already!)

2009-10-06T11:20:00.000-04:00

It’s October. Shouldn’t I be hearing crispy leaves crunching below my feet as I run, instead of the sudden demise of a poor snail that was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time; shouldn't a sweet, maple-scented breeze be tickling my nose rather than an unpleasant reminder that Secret deodorant isn't keeping my B.O. a secret? In the season of jack-o-lanterns and knee-high boot fashion spreads and Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Lattes, shouldn't a few pores of my skin and hairs on my head not be exuding copious fluids after just a quarter-mile warm-up jog?

Well, this all would be the case, if I didn’t live in sunny South Florida. The weather report at 6 am this morning for my Broward County zip code was 79 degrees with 72% humidity (“feels like 86 degrees,” explained the Weather.com graph, and that would probably be 86 degrees, presumably, to a person who was not engaged in intense physical activity.)

I became a real runner over the summer, when it was even hotter than 79 degrees at 6 am--and my Team in Training mentor has told me that if you can run 8 miles in the heat during the peak of a Florida summer, you can run anywhere.

That is somewhat of a consolation as I find myself daydreaming about running through a sprinkling of gold and amber leaves while following the path on Boat House Row in Philadelphia, where I was born and raised; as I imagine the thrilling chill of wind against my face (wind! what an exotic delicacy) as I comb through the cobblestone streets of Baltimore, where I spent the second half of my 20s; or hugging my jacket (remember those cuddly fleece things?) closer to my body while crossing the Key Bridge from Georgetown to Arlington, Virginia, where I spent the first half.

But, in November, if I still lived in any of these places—or in St. Louis, where we spent the two years before we finally settled here (how cool would it be to run circles around the Arch?)—I probably wouldn’t be able to burn off my Thanksgiving dinner outdoors without worrying about slipping on an ice patch.

And from what I recall of the first 32 years of my life, before I became a perennially sun-kissed (and sweaty) tropical being, there’s a time when cool weather transforms from being “nice and refreshing” to “a big hassle;” and eventually you stop smelling the leaves and instead start smelling wet wool (all those cozy pea-coats drenched in freezing rain and snow.) Wet wool smells a lot like a wet dog--I can guarantee you that Glade doesn't have a scented candle created to emulate this distinctly northern odor.

So I will try to count my blessings. But I do look forward to the day (which I thought would have arrived already) when I can run without carrying a towel with me, which I need to constantly mop the sweat out of my eyes, so I can see where I am going.

Being blinded by sweat is a bit of an occupational hazard when you run this close to the equator. And so is stinking. Thank goodness for soap, baby powder and showers.

Official results

2009-10-05T11:16:00.000-04:00

Hey, David and I were seven seconds faster than we originally thought! And I came in 3rd among 35-39 year old chicks, and he was the fourth fastest among men 25-29.

This is me (the 54:54 is my "net" time from when I crossed the start line to the finish; the 55:03 is from when the race started)

3 4060 JORIE MARK 35 55:03 54:54 8:50

My next scheduled race is the Weston half-marathon in December. :-)

Lessons from my first 10K

2009-10-04T15:37:00.000-04:00

I sit here with sore glutes, an upset stomach and a LOT of pride after completing my first 10k with my brother-in-law David in a very respectable 55 minutes, 10 seconds. David's pretty fast, and he's also 8 years younger than me, and I'm pretty sure he could have run it in even a few minutes faster than that--but he was a gentleman and stayed at my pace from the start line to the finish line.

I can tell David had not only a great time in terms of when he crossed the finish line, but a great time meaning a great run. I'm jealous. For me, as much as I enjoyed the experience with running with my husband's little brother (much more enjoyable than running solo) and the sights of Key Biscayne (vultures! peacocks!), it was a rough run for me.

I made the mistake of running this 10k the way I've run my previous 5ks: which is to say as fast as I could. Plus, I'd had my weekly long run with Team in Training the previous day and I felt every moment of Saturday's 8 mile run as I took on today's 6.2. Not smart of me at all.

My theory about 5ks is that they are very short, and anyone can endure a little misery for 25-30 minutes, so I've just thrown my body into the dynamic of the race, not trying to find and maintain an enjoyable pace at all. And I'm someone who loves to feel good while running, so this is a big sacrifice--but walking away with better-than-expected times has made that worthwhile.

But a 10k is quite literally twice the length of a 5k. And 55:10 is a really long time to go "as fast as you possibly can." It made all 6 miles just crawl by for me (I remember looking around frantically for the elusive mile marker 4), which is the opposite of how a long run feels to me when I'm running on my own.

And as David pointed out, if 6.2 miles feels long, imagine 26.2.

I may have to run a few more medium-length races before my marathon so I can really learn how to run at a normal pace without getting carried away by the excitement and adreneline rush of a racing event.

Because as soon as I hear "Ready, set, go!" I GO. And really, I need to learn how to just go.

The Weights Debate

2009-10-01T14:24:00.000-04:00

I have something really bold and controversial to say, so brace yourself.

If you’re a runner, this may provoke more ire in you than a statement about abortion, the healthcare debate or what to do with illegal immigrants.

OK, here goes: I don’t see the point of weight lifting while training for a marathon.

Before you start pelting me with bananas (or dumbbells), let me make it clear that I’m not talking about cross-training in general. I get a lot from spin classes, and I recently discovered that yoga is my friend.

But strength training, particularly high repetition strength training, seems to be doing more to harm than help my running.

On Sunday I took “Pump It Up” at the YMCA, which entailed dozens and dozens of lunges and glute lifts done with weights. I’ve taken this class many times before (before I began marathon training) and perhaps because I didn’t run a dozen miles in the days following weights workouts, I always felt good afterwards and got a lot out of the experience.

And while I was in the class this Sunday, as I was curtseying and flexing and balancing my heart out, I felt absolutely fine. (OK, not “happy,” but not like I was out of my league, either.)

But four days and twelve miles later, I’m aching like I’ve never ached before.

It’s my legs. They hurt. This is really strange, because I’ve never really had “sore” legs during the six months I’ve been running regularly. Muscles that certainly had to be conditioned from all the running I’ve done—my calves, hamstrings, inner and outer thighs and hips—are seriously unhappy right now.

I could probably “break myself in” by doing more weight training every week, but my inclination right now actually is to do less of it—much less of it.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’m not sure why I would need to be able to do 125 squats with 8 lb. dumbbells in order to run a marathon; I’m not really sure how lacing myself into ankle weights and then lifting my calves above my hips is going to help me with speed or endurance.

The irony of it all is that I’m looking a lot more “muscular” these days than I ever did when I took “Pump it Up” every Sunday and did cardio just twice a week. My biceps are defined; my thighs don’t widen when I sit down; my stomach, even, is starting to pass for the stomach of someone who hasn’t necessarily had two c-sections.

So while I’ll keep cross-training, I’m going to choose how I cross-train very carefully in the future. Yoga, yes; curtsey-lunges, no thank you. (In any case, I’m pretty sure people in the super-crowded “Pump it Up” class will be relieved to have one less person competing for space and a riser.)

8 Burning Questions (about running, fitness, spelling errors, and other things)

2009-09-29T13:43:00.000-04:00

1. Why do some runners swear by greasing up their feet before a run?
When I coated my feet in BodyGlide, as a Runner’s Depot salesperson had suggested, they slid all around in my socks like a pinball in a pinball machine and I ended up with two wounded baby toes and blisters galore. My friend Kelly suggested baby powder instead and that seems to make much more sense—no new blisters since I treated my feet like a baby’s bottom. But I’d still like clarification on the lube because I just don’t get it.

2. Does being frightened burn more calories than staying calm?
My heart sure starts racing whenever I see the bushes move, an iguana cross my path or a frog leap out at me during my solitary pre-dawn runs. Maybe that’s a good addition to my training routine—it certainly does inspire me to run faster. (Just trying to find a silver lining to the whole scary Everglades wildlife thing I have to deal with every morning.)

3. Speaking of wildlife, would you say I’m increasing my life expectancy by running outside (because it’s good for my health) or decreasing it (because of the potential for an alligator, iguana or frog to assault me)?
Perhaps statistically, it’s a wash…

4. Do spelling errors on Top 40 hits bother other people as much as they bother me?
I like to listen to “Fergielicious” when I’m running because I can really groove to the part where she says, “I be up at the gym, working on my fitness…” (Hey, Fergie, me, too!! At least when it’s raining too hard to run!) But it makes me NUTS when the back up singers chant, “T-to the-A-to the-S-T-E-Y girl you’re tasty.” No, people! It’s T-to the-A-to the –S-T-Y you’re tasty!”

5. Am I making you run faster?
Because you’re making me run faster, if I spot you on my path. I could be trudging along at a happy, mellow pace, and then I’ll see another human being—someone running, someone walking, some cleaning up after their dog or slowly pushing an infant in a baby stroller, it really doesn’t matter—and I will automatically speed up. I’m not sure if I’m being competitive, showing off, or both.

6. Is there some secret to not becoming absolutely disgusting while working out intensely?
I seem to be more repulsive than the average runner. I can actually smell pleasant odors like shampoo and cologne when I pass some morning “regulars” on the sidewalk. I, on the other hand, smell like a cross between an armpit and a mildewed shower curtain. I wear Secret, shower daily, use Oxy Clean on my workout clothes—and yet I reek, as do my clothes, even after they’ve been washed. It’s not just running—it’s spinning, the elliptical—any activity that causes me to perspire. All you good-smelling gym rats: please share your secret! (For your own benefit, I might add.)

7. Is it inappropriate, during a pedicure, to request a deep-tissue calf massage instead of what they normally do where they just squirt some cheap moisturizing lotion on your legs from Sally Beauty and kind of pat it in?
My calves are just so tight these days and it seems to me that if they are going to claim “relaxing massage” is part of the “spa pedicure” package, you should be able to get them to give you a small courtesy upgrade. But such a request does make me feel a little sleazy…I sat in the pedicure chair once next to an old woman who was enjoying her pedicure a little too vocally and I don’t want to emulate that. I promise I won’t get all “When Harry Met Sally” (diner scene) on my pedicurist.

8. How can I convey to people who don’t like running that I’m not a sadist, an extreme dieter willing to put myself through torture in order to stay slim—or, by that same token, someone “above” them who should be admired?
If I could just get them all to run for more than 28 minutes, they, too, would hit that “runner’s high” and understand immediately that, hello! I’m not a sadist! I’m not a saint! I’m just an adrenaline junkie, pure and simple. That 28 minute mark feels soooo good.