The Newbie Runner

I’m 39, now. Have I told you that? It’s strange to know that I’m officially “pushing 40,” because I occasionally get carded and I’m in the best shape of my life. And yeah – I still wear short skirts and tank tops and flip-flops – and I still hula hoop and dream big dreams and wish for all kinds of things. And when I was a kid, 40 just seemed so old. But you know what – whatever. It’s just a number. And if this is 39, then all I can say to 40 is “bring it!”

As for running – well, today I ran 10.14 miles… just because I could. It’s the farthest I’ve ever run and it felt good! I didn’t care about my time. Didn’t care about eating lunch. Didn’t care about getting home to prepare for the week ahead. Didn’t worry about my future. And didn’t concern myself with the past. Instead, I watched the birds, talked to a couple of humans and said hello to a few dogs. But mostly, I just ran.

I ran Copper Basin to the Half Marathon turnaround, then I ran through Hassayampa Country Club to Thumb Butte Road, then up Plaza to Country Club, and then on home. It’s a tough route, but it felt so good. And you know what? I’ll do it again. And again. And again. And I’ll add miles to the beginning, the middle and the end. And I’ll keep going farther, running harder and having a good time. Because at 39, I’ve officially become a bad***. (Yay!)

Thank you running – for this birthday gift. I thought I would hate you… and sometimes I do. But mostly, I love you – and I wish I could give you something in return.

OK. So, I don’t know about you – but I like to run to music. And the truth is, there’s only one band on my iPod nano watch – Lucero. And of the three albums I bothered to load, for the past four or five months, I’ve really only been listening to one  –The Attic Tapes. It's slow(ish) and easy to pace to. It has songs to run silly to, songs to sprint to, and songs that just make me smile. And if truth be told, sometimes – when there’s no one else around – I sing to them, too.

The track listing (along with my notes) below more or less outlines common themes that I think about when the songs come on or how I like to run to each. Of course, it changes with the day and with the trail – and with the magic of the shuffle function – but it’s pretty dead on.

Track Listing:

• Into Your Eyes. This song is also on another album, but I like this version, with all the strings, better. A nice downhill. The strings give you a light and easy pace. Steady as she goes.
• Diamond State Heartbreak. A smile, maybe a few hops, leaps and/or hip shakes and a lot of nice, rolling strides. Easy miles, easy pace.
• Hello Sadness. Love the strings. Slow and rolling pace. Heartbreak, but with a glimmer of a smile. Run your run. Breathe. Look around. Watch the clouds. Notice the birds. This is why you’re here.
• Gone To The Sea. Freeing. Nice pace. Accordion is rich and atmospheric – as are the lyrics. Pictures of thrashing seas and an old ship dance through my head.
• Summer Song. Heavy footsteps. The strings feel oppressive. And it’s perfect. I can almost feel the humidity and rain clouds closing in on me. When it comes on during a downhill, it feels like I’ve caught a break. When that happens, sometimes I spread my arms and look to the sky as I run. Like a kid in the field as the raindrops just begin to fall.
• In Lonesome Times. A song to focus to. It’s slow and feels like a long, sad struggle. Usually comes up on long, slightly uphill stretches when I’m tired, but headed into a hill (that I naturally don’t want to tackle). Occasionally it hits on a downhill and feels a little more carefree. It’s pretty malleable and really sorta beautiful.
• A Heart So True. Plodding and steady. Old trucks and lonesome bars.
• Took The Fall. Slow pace. Easy breezy, plodding. A chance to slow my breathing and take in the sights.
• The Blue And The Gray. Straight and steady. I almost always think about hearing this song in concert – and my brother leaning in to tell me that this (the rolling hills, swamp lands and cotton fields) is pure Arkansas. I also usually think of my granddads – the strife they saw and the good lives they lead – and yeah… how I hope I don’t let ‘em down.
• Wish Me Luck. Fast, fun. Lots of opportunities to jump/leap and kinda, sorta ollie (if you were on a skateboard). Big smile. Head bob. Optimistic. Reminds me to take my own sweet time and have fun.
• Katherine And Me. Quick(ish) pace. Playful. Great to run slaloms to without a care in the world. I almost always see a picture of my grandma in my head when I hear this song. She’s young, about 20, wearing wide-legged pants, her head is cocked and she’s standing with her cousin in front of an old car. She looks a little too sure of herself – and totally pretty in a Betty Davis sort of way.
• So Long Tonight. Quick pace. I’ve got something to prove… and a little attitude, to boot. Gives me the confidence (or maybe the cockiness) to kill it.
• My Best Girl. Steady pace and a relatively long song. Probably my least favorite on the album, but it’s not really bad. Just one I tend to muddle through.
• Kiss The Bottle. The song I dread, but secretly love. Big smile. Slow and steady followed by a faster pace then an all-out sprint. Repeat two more times. Who knew a song about hitting rock bottom could sound so totally happy? (Even if it’s already made an appearance during my run, I always put this song right before I head home so I can end my day with a sprint.) Listen to the song.

 

And yeah – in case you’re wonderin’ – I totally listen to whiskey swillin', drinkin' music when I run. I just prefer it that way.

 

Yeah - running may sound awful (I used to think that, too) - but in the year since I first laced up my shoes, I've found out that it can be fun... if you just put a little effort into it.

So, if you're stuck in a rut, bored with your trail or tired of the monotonous sound of your shoes slapping the pavement, take a page from my book and try:

- Smiling, even if you don't feel like it, and waving to passers by - it can do wonders for your mood/run . If you must, you can even pretend you're the ambassador of fitness and that you need make everyone believe being healthy is fun. (Cough... not that I've... cough... done this.)
- Run the trails or sidewalks in slalom - just watch where you're going and be mindful of other people on the trail. If you dare, you can even spread your arms out like you're an airplane. Trust me. It's kinda fun.
- Jump on top of rocks and leap down as you continue your run.
- Choose an album with a couple of sprint-appropriate songs, then put your iPod on shuffle. When the songs come on, regardless of where you are on your run, book it!
- Celebrate your successes. When I get to the top of a particularly tough hill, I sometimes raise my fists like Rocky... and it's kinda fun
- Cry when you need to. I think a lot when I run. And sometimes the emotion just pours out. I don't blubber on the side of the road, mind you, but I've been known to run with tears streaming down my cheeks - and that's OK.
- Look at cool stuff along the way. If there are deer prancing around or ants moving food or birds cackling to each other, take a minute - or a few - to watch... because if you miss the cool stuff on the trail, you might as well be on the treadmill.
- Walk when you need to. But get going when you catch your breath.
- Wear clothes that make you feel good. I love running skirts - and my hot pink running shoes. They make me happy.
- Notice your muscles. Check out your arms, your calves, your thighs. Did you ever think they'd carry you so far and look so strong? I know I sure didn't. Be proud - and get a swagger in your step.
- Pet dogs. Talk to people. Engage. It's fun. They're nice. And you'll feel more motivated if you take just a moment to be kind.
- Do good deeds along the way. Move big branches off the sidewalk. Help a dog find his home. Pick up trash and dispose of it properly along your route. It'll make the path nicer for you - and a lot of other people.
- On bad days just tell yourself this: You don't have to go fast, you just have to go. It frees me up to just have my run that day - whatever it may be - and enjoy it. I'm in competition with no one. Not even myself.

Until next time. Happy running!

(And don't forget - the Whiskey Row Marathon is on May 5 and the Mountain Milers are doing training runs free of charge, always. Love the Milers!!!)

I have a confession to make. I've been cheating on running with hot yoga... and I like it! Of course, I'm still running about four days a week, but I've finally - at long last - started complementing my running with stretching.

Now, let's get something straight. I'm not new to yoga - not even close. I've been doing it off and on for 20 (gasp!) years, but since I moved to Prescott a couple of years ago, I haven't been able to find an instructor whose personal style - and style of yoga - I like. You see, my favorite type of yoga is yin - it works the connective tissues and makes you feel yummy. But it's really not taught much in Prescott, so I tried a few other styles and local instructors, but they've all fallen flat, so I eventually just stopped trying.

Until recently...

That's when I found a hot yoga studio who's instructor was playful without being disrespectful - and who's class was challenging, cleansing and fun. It's a style of teaching that's more rooted in fitness than the spiritual aspect of yoga, which I like because, to be honest, I don't need to be guided to my God. I know where to find him. Instead - I need someone to guide me to stretch, literally, and grow - and help me do things that are out of my comfort zone. And I've found it - and in a sense, I've come home.

Best of all, because I've been stretching (somewhat) more regularly, my running has improved. My hips hurt less. I'm more aware of my body and my stride. More aware of my abs and hips. More aware of my toes and heels. And it's slowly, but surely, helping me improve my runs. Sure - I'm still pretty darned slow, but I'm also more comfortable and it's lifting my spirits and helping me inch ever closer to my goal: finishing the Whiskey Row Half Marathon in May healthy and as injury-free as possible.

A few months back someone said to me “Oh, I wish I could run. It’s so mindless.” At the time, I had just started running indoors and couldn’t totally disagree. But after a few months on the treadmill I transitioned to running outside and realized that, in my humble opinion, this person is not only wrong, but that running may well be the most mindful thing I do in a day.

You see, when I run, I see everything – from the crows overhead to the ants laboring with their newfound booty at my feet. I hear my breath, I recognize how my nutrition and hydration impact my run. I feel my muscles responding to my movement. I hear cars whiz by and I watch as people wave in my direction. I feel the cold winds nipping at my nose. I notice as flowers bloom, how quickly (or slowly) the weeds grow, how the clouds shift in the sky – and say "hello" to new dogs who call my neighbors’ abodes home.

Along the way, I sometimes consider my own issues and problems, and I lose myself to the rhythm of the road (and the music being piped through the one headphone I wear). I consider the strong and healthy body I’m working to create and think about how, at 38, I’m doing things I couldn’t do – or at least wouldn’t have thought I could do – 15 or 20 years ago.

In quiet moments, I also think about my family, those I love and those I miss, which does, in a sense, bring me closer to them – and sometimes it even brings me to tears.

I hear my grandparents’ voices and feel their paper-thin skin in my hand. I remember the way my brother taught me to be fearless, and how my sister used to dance. I think of my husband and how supportive he always is. And I picture my nieces and nephews and wonder who they’ll be. I also think about how my parents are getting older and remember the way my dad’s garage always smelled and how his wrenches felt in my hand – and how my mom always lit up around this time of year. And I think about the way all of us kids used to play with my cousins at the park across the street from our house until the sun went down – and I think about how much I love them all.

It may sound too precious to say that running is spiritual, but to be honest, it's not exactly a-spiritual, either. And as far as I can tell, anyone who says running is mindless really just hasn't run.

A few months back someone said to me “Oh, I wish I could run. It’s so mindless.” At the time, I had just started running indoors and couldn’t totally disagree. But after a few months on the treadmill I transitioned to running outside and realized that, in my humble opinion, this person is not only wrong, but that running may well be the most mindful thing I do in a day.

You see, when I run, I see everything – from the crows overhead to the ants laboring with their newfound booty at my feet. I hear my breath, I recognize how my nutrition and hydration impact my run. I feel my muscles responding to my movement. I hear cars whiz by and I watch as people wave in my direction. I feel the cold winds nipping at my nose. I notice as flowers bloom, how quickly (or slowly) the weeds grow, how the clouds shift in the sky – and say "hello" to new dogs who call my neighbors’ abodes home.

Along the way, I sometimes consider my own issues and problems, and I lose myself to the rhythm of the road (and the music being piped through the one headphone I wear). I consider the strong and healthy body I’m working to create and think about how, at 38, I’m doing things I couldn’t do – or at least wouldn’t have thought I could do – 15 or 20 years ago.

In quiet moments, I also I think about my family, those I love and those I miss, which does, in a sense, bring me closer to them – and sometimes it even brings me to tears.

I hear my grandparents’ voices and feel their paper-thin skin in my hand. I remember the way my brother taught me to be fearless, and how my sister used to dance. I think of my husband and how supportive he always is. And I picture my nieces and nephews and wonder who they’ll be. I also think about how my parents are getting older and remember the way my dad’s garage always smelled and how his wrenches felt in my hand – and how my mom always lit up around this time of year. And I think about the way all of us kids used to play with my cousins at the park across the street from our house until the sun went down – and I think about how much I love them all.

It may sound too precious to say that running is spiritual, but to be honest, it's not exactly a-spiritual, either. And as far as I can tell, anyone who says running is mindless really just hasn't run.

We’ve gotten to know each other a little by now… so it’s probably time I started sharing my rules of running. They pretty much all boil down to this: Acknowledgement. But I’ll cover different aspects as the posts move along.

At any rate…

My husband is a mountain biker – and from his experience on the trails, as well as my own within the city – I’ve learned that many people don’t acknowledge others when they’re out and about. In fact, a lot of runners go so far as to turn away and act as though the people around them don’t exist at all. (I’ve even had a girl look away and roll her eyes when I gave her a friendly hello as we crossed paths at an intersection. WOW!)

To be honest – the whole “if I don’t look at you, you don’t exist” mentality really goes against my grain – and sorta ticks me off. Because really – who can’t spare two seconds to wave, say hello, give a nod. I know I can – even when I’m running hard – up a hill.

It’s a simple act, but it can still mean something. It signals to other people, be they in a car, on a motorcycle, on a bike or on foot, that I’ve seen them… and they’ve seen me, which makes me feel a certain measure of safety, but it also lets them know that they’ve been acknowledged. And who knows – they may be having a rough day, they may feel invisible in their own lives – or they may just be zoning out – and the simple act of acknowledging them may make their day just a little bit better. Of course, it may also do nothing for them, but whatever. The fact of the matter is, it does plenty for me. It gives me pleasure to be acknowledged. It gives me strength to continue on. And it gives me joy – because I like being nice.

Now, before you start thinking that I run only on side streets where I see four people a day… consider this: I run on White Spar, in downtown Prescott, through Hassayampa, on Copper Basin, Thumb Butte Road and all manner of busy streets in Prescott – and you can bet that I wave to everyone that heads my direction. Sometimes I probably look a little silly. Sometimes I probably wave too emphatically. Sometimes I wave to 10 cars in a row. But trust me – it’s fun. And if you try it, too – I bet you’ll 1) think it’s fun, too and 2) start noticing that people are a lot friendlier than you think they are.

Until next time – happy running!

We’ve gotten to know each other a little by now… so it’s probably time I started sharing my rules of running. They pretty much all boils down to this: Acknowledgement. But I’ll cover different aspects as the posts move along.

At any rate…

My husband is a mountain biker – and from his experience on the trails, as well as my own within the city – I’ve learned that many people don’t acknowledge others when they’re out and about. In fact, a lot of runners go so far as to turn away and act as though the people around them don’t exist at all. (I’ve even had a girl look away and roll her eyes when I gave her a friendly hello as we crossed paths at an intersection. WOW!)

To be honest – the whole “if I don’t look at you, you don’t exist” mentality really goes against my grain – and sorta ticks me off. Because really – who can’t spare two seconds to wave, say hello, give a nod. I know I can – even when I’m running hard – up a hill.

It’s a simple act, but it can still mean something. It signals to other people, be they in a car, on a motorcycle, on a bike or on foot, that I’ve seen them… and they’ve seen me, which makes me feel a certain measure of safety, but it also lets them know that they’ve been acknowledged. And who knows – they may be having a rough day, they may feel invisible in their own lives – or they may just be zoning out – and the simple act of acknowledging them may make their day just a little bit better. Of course, it may also do nothing for them, but whatever. The fact of the matter is, it does plenty for me. It gives me pleasure to be acknowledged. It gives me strength to continue on. And it gives me joy – because I like being nice.

Now, before you start thinking that I run only on side streets where I see four people a day… consider this: I run on White Spar, in downtown Prescott, through Hassayampa, on Copper Basin, Thumb Butte Road and all manner of busy streets in Prescott – and you can bet that I wave to everyone that heads my direction. Sometimes I probably look a little silly. Sometimes I probably wave too emphatically. Sometimes I wave to 10 cars in a row. But trust me – it’s fun. And if you try it, too – I bet you’ll you’ll 1) think it’s fun, too and 2) start noticing that people are a lot friendlier than you think they are.

Until next time – happy running!

Yesterday, my husband, three friends and I hiked down and up the Grand Canyon. In 10.5 hours, we covered 16.5 miles – from the Kaibab trailhead to Phantom Ranch, then up the steep switchbacks of Bright Angel Trail to the top of the South Rim.

Until then, I hadn’t covered more than 9 miles in a hike, walk or run – maybe ever – and to be honest, the thought of running 10 or more miles terrified me, but since I’ve committed to doing a half marathon, it was a mental hurdle that I obviously needed to clear sooner, rather than later. But even more than kicking the 10-mile mark to the curb – which I was thrilled to do – the trip to the Canyon reminded me of how we can all show incredible strength even in moments of incredible weakness.

• The first reminder came at the beginning of the day when we saw a lone hiker so paralyzed by a fear of heights the he was literally crawling down the first half of the Kaibab Trail. An hour or so later, he found his moxie and passed our group – jogging to the bottom of the Canyon.

• The second reminder came from a friend. After injuring his knee on the descent, Justin’s knee was swollen and couldn’t be bent without his pain-o-meter registering an 8 out of 10. He somehow managed to hobble his way 9.5 miles up Bright Angel Trail without a single complaint.

As my training continues I will remember these people – and the people I see along the trail and the city’s sidewalks every day. People who struggle to walk. Struggle to steer their wheelchairs. Struggle to survive. And I will be inspired to quiet down, stop complaining and just move. Because to move – and to be healthy and strong – is always a blessing.

For the last week, I’ve been struggling with nearly constant knee pain – but my new running shoes have arrived and I’m ready to hit the road again!

Wanting to take it easy and test out my bad knee and my good shoes, I decided on a simple one-mile run. Being near downtown Prescott, inclines are inevitable, but I know of a one-mile stretch that’s not what I would call "hilly" – so I ran it.

As it turns out – the shoes are great and the knee will survive (I’m planning a couple of short runs, then a 7-miler on Sunday). But what I wasn’t anticipating is my complete inability to self pace.

You see, I left my iPod at home (purposefully, because I wanted to see how I’d do). Well, I ran too fast, too soon and was breathing hard and heavy by the end of the first quarter mile. I could hear the songs in my head (I only really listen to one album – Lucero’s "That Much Further West" – when I run, so it’s not like it was hard), but while I could find the lyrics, the guitars and the mood – the mental metronome that synchs into the songs and guides my pacing was inexplicably gone. Poof! Vanished. I don’t know why, or where it went, but it without it, I was in shambles.

Lesson learned. Mental radio is fine. Great for dancing in the kitchen, Fantastic for singing in the shower. For running - for me - not so much. I need the real thing, at least for awhile longer. Someday, maybe not. Until then, I'll stick with my iPod.

 

I am not a runner. Sure, I ran last year’s Whiskey Row Marathon (WRM) 10k – and have put so many miles on my first pair of running shoes that I now need another pair. But as I said – I am not a runner.

At best, I am a jogger. I run 12.5-minute miles. I stop along the way to watch all manner of fascinating things (you’ll hear more about that in posts to come). I pet dogs. Occasionally pick up trash along the trail. And sometimes even make my way home carrying produce for the evening’s dinner. A real runner wouldn’t do those things. But I am not a runner.

I am a 38-year-old woman. I never ran track in high school. Never mountain biked in college. Tried snowboarding once in my 20s and crashed so hard I couldn’t turn my head for two days. I’ve never been outdoorsy. Never played team sports. And never thought of myself as particularly tough. That said, I have done yoga off and on for the better part of two decades. Fell in love with pilates. And used to take spin class twice a week for fun. (Oh, and I’m a pretty healthy eater, too.)

When I moved to Prescott, I tried a few classes – but nothing clicked. Then I volunteered for the WRM. Two months into my commitment… on New Year’s Eve… I decided that if I was going to tell people to run, then I should probably do it myself.

From January to late March, I ran on the treadmill, then from April to May, I ran outside – cursing my decision the entire time. At some point in that month, I found my (very slow) stride and managed to run the 10k in a personal best time (1:14). It’s wasn’t a great time, but it was MY BEST TIME… and it fueled the crazy idea that I could actually train for – and complete – the WRM half.

What will follow on these pages is the story of my training. My insights. My lessons. And my experiences. Funny, painful or somewhere in between… they will always be honest. However, I cannot offer solutions to your running problems. And I’m not qualified to tell you how to train. I am simply sharing my experiences – and hope that you’ll do the same by adding your comments below.

 

Tina