What A Bunch Of Running Taught Me

I, with Danielle, ran a race that was a little over a 50K last week.
50K=31.6 miles. 
We ended up closer to 33, depending on whose watch you would look at (mine died directly at the 50K mark so it was unreliable).

I initially didn't share my intentions of running this race with many people.  Those who needed to know knew.  Jim, of course, and my parents, who sometimes watched my child or stuck a water bottle in their mail box during my long runs.  My bosses, because I thought they should know why I was so tired, starving, or hobbling around.  A couple of family members because during visits I had to explain that I had to be running for two or more hours on Saturday morning, or I couldn't eat this or that on Friday night.  Every once in a while the topic came up-- "what races are you signed up for?", "doing anything fun this fall?", and as the race neared "does anyone have any prayer requests?".

Anyway, a week ago today, I started my day off shiveri
ng under a borrowed blanket from Danielle's son, waiting for the longest race of my life to start.  It was a 10.5 mile loop done 3 times on trails.  Mostly single track, which was definitely written in the description of the race but definitely did not register in my brain. single track, if you don't know, is literally a beaten down trail about one persons width, like the picture below.

Part of the Cunningham Lake Trail, possibly where we ran (it looks slightly familiar).

not part of the trail we were on, but a better representation of most of it.  Deep single track with no safe places to run on the sides. 

The first loop was fine, I noticed more pain in my knees than is acceptable for 10 miles because I wasn't prepare for that caliber of trail-- the trail required a lot more balance than I needed on the gravel roads I'm used to.  It also had a couple of places where you needed to climb down a steep cliff-like thing, a hill where you almost had to use your hands to get up, and other crazy things I wasn't really prepared for. We also ran our extra mile in the first loop because someone directing wasn't in the right spot.

Loop two we slowed down due to some trouble for my running buddy.  She rallied and I struggled through the third loop as my IT Band threatened to "snap" as it has in the past, which would have led to a non-finish.  I also learned that my "wall" that runners so often claim to have-- the time in a race where all energy is lost-- is just a time when I start to cry.  It isn't really motivated by being tired, or wanting to be done, or even realizing we are close to the finish line.  It just meant tears for no reason.  Because, you know, crying helps with proper breathing.
We finished a lot later than I anticipated and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.  The goal was to finish, and we did, but it still stings to have an intended pace be completely missed.  An older man helped cheer Danielle and I on during the last mile.  She and I held hands at the end, crying and cheering as we crossed the finish line.  The race director, at least in the pictures, looked as though we had just won the race he was so thrilled for us.  We got our medals, we were handed orange julius drinks by my dad and husband (a request I had made before the race), I cried some more and hugged my kiddo. 
my family and I headed back to the hotel so I could shower and then we were off to Costco.  It was at Costco where I realized I was going to be more sore than I hoped for.  My foot, which didn't hurt at all during the race or even the hour after, started to become painful to walk on.  The next morning, I wouldn't consider how I got around "walking".
The side of my foot swelled a bit and hurt a bunch.  I didn't attempt any running until Wednesday and lasted a block before I decided it wasn't a good idea.  By Thursday morning I felt great and went out with my awesome friend Tanya and did a fast 4 and felt great until we were done, then I was back to hobbling.  I think I am on the mend again, but tomorrows very short run will tell me how far along I've come.

So, with that recap, here is what I learned while I trained for and ran a 50K.  These are in no particular order, of course.

1. It's hard not to talk about it because training for a race is like taking on a part time job.  Saturday mornings were spent running.  Most mornings were spent running.  When people ask what you are up to, it's hard not to mention it because it becomes a part of who you are.

2.  I would not do a long distance without a friend.  And it would have to be a really, really good friend.  Danielle and I are at similar fitness levels, though we both have our strengths and weaknesses that are different.  However, if I didn't have her at my side the last lap, I may have just slipped into my car at mile 28 when we saw my family and just went home.  If I had gotten that far to begin with.  There is something to be said about the vulnerability and trust you gain with a running partner, and I couldn't have done this race with anyone other than Danielle. 

3. People, no matter what you do, will have their opinions and jokes.  One of the first things I heard when I told someone I had run a 50K was "so when is the 100 miler ?!" with a sly grin on their face.  My response was "Never.  I'm pretty happy being an ultra marathoner without going that far, thanks".  It's just the way people react.  There are plenty of people who will be encouraging and impressed, but there will always be the "commenters".  On the plus side, for every "commenter" there are at least twice as many positive people.

4. This will probably never happen again.  The time away from family to train, the sacrifices my family had to make on race day to cheer me on, the constant fear of injury and worrying about eating too much or too little isn't really worth it for me.  I also have only run once since the race and running, as silly as it might sound to those who don't do it, is my therapy.  With how difficult life has felt these past few months anyway, not being able to run has been absolutely terrible.  Mornings have been hard, feeling like not waking up because I didn't have a run to go on.  I have felt like dough (like squishy and warm and blobby, lol) not being able to run, my mind playing tricks on me that I suddenly ballooned in size because I'm not getting that exercise in.  And not being able to joyfully play with my son without gimping around behind him isn't worth it.  Maybe someday, when my kids are completely self sufficient and I need another challenge, I'll do another one.  But I have no desire or excitement for that distance again.  It wasn't horrible, it just isn't what I want to do right now.

5. It can be done.  There was a time not too long ago I didn't think I would ever run more than 5 miles at a time.  Or more than a half marathon.  Or more than training for a marathon (never ran it, just trained with Danielle).  But now I can say I've run an ultra, and I never thought that was possible.  It's pretty dang cool what the human body can do.

6. All sorts of people do it.  I saw older people, young people, people that didn't look particularly fit, people who could probably bench press me in a second and people in silly clothes. 

7. Getting back to "pre-50K" life is difficult.  Of course with an injury I have a bit of an extra layer.  But running without needing to walk or eat is going to be a transition.  Not needing all of Saturday morning to get miles in.  I have some lofty fitness goals this year that I look forward to tackling, but figuring out how to get out of long distance training is going to be tough.

So there you have it.   I was in a 50K race.  Proud of my BFF Danielle and kind of proud of myself, too. 

In My Own Hands

When something isn't available to me, I tend to take matters into my own hands.  I am the kind of person who, given the opportunity, does something instead of waiting for someone else to do it.  This isn't always the best quality to have, it feeds into my impatience and can lead to me diving into something when I should have taken a step back first.

However, there have been some successes in my desire to have certain things in my life.  A jazz band was born because I wanted to play with other musicians.  So was a quintet.  When I couldn't find a decent arrangement of a Christmas oboe and bassoon duet, I wrote one.  

When I couldn't find fresh ground peanut butter locally (after falling in love at a Whole Foods in Boulder), I bought my own peanuts and made my own. 

When I didn't like the streaks my floor cleaner made on my floor, I made my own.

When I decided that Febreez wasn't something I wanted in my house, I made my own "fresh smelling spray".

When I really wanted stuffed pasta but there wasn't any gluten free options, I made my own.

When the only dairy free yogurt in town kept selling out and wasn't reliably available, I started making my own.  

There have also been the failures.  The getting things done before they were ready, or focusing on something I had no control over type of failures.  Writing a song when I was in high school and trying to push it to be published before I graduated from high school, and the painful rejection letter that followed.  The time I threw away something in the kitchen I never used but Jim did.  The many times I've pulled bread or cakes out of the oven before they were done or cutting them before they were cool enough.
All of the stupid, ridiculous things I did that would supposedly help me get pregnant.

 ******************************************************************************

So when it seemed like we may never adopt another child again, I took our agencies "advice" to make a Facebook page because the "I'll do this myself" part of my mind took over.  I fill it with the best pictures of our family, small facts that might spark any interest, and awkward videos.  I pray over the site, we share it with friends and family, we even put advertising money towards it.
I didn't want to.  I didn't want to advertise ourselves.  It feels uncomfortable.  But I've only wanted three things in my life as much as this-- to know I was saved, to marry Jim and to have our precious Josiah.  I felt like I couldn't NOT do something. 

In the end, I might feel like I'm taking matters into my own hands but I know better.  I know who is in control and it certainly isn't me.  And while sometimes His timing makes no sense to me, I have to trust that what His word says is true, that He has plans for me.

I don't know if taking matters into my own hands by making the Facebook page was a rushed decision that won't get good results, or if it's an awesome opportunity to make the right contact.  Only time (and hopefully less of it) will tell.  With the world continuing to go around, both the good and the band, I feel like I'm standing still.  I have no other choice but to acknowledge I have no control over the situation.  It's hard to have no say in something you so desperately want. 



In the meantime, however, if you haven't liked our page, here is the link .  Please feel free to like, comment (supposedly lots of comments looks good, so say the adoption experts at our agency who have asked us to do this), and share if you feel so inclined.  I don't want to ask, I don't want to be a burden on others anymore than I already am, but I do know God works in the little things, and maybe it's a comment that catches the eye of the right person, or a share or a like.  Or maybe this page will just be another something to keep me occupied while we wait for a son or daughter, a sibling and friend.