This past weekend I did something not only out of my normal routine, but out of my comfort zone. I ran a half marathon. And you know what may have surprised me the most? I didn’t hate it.
At the end of August, a good friend brought up the idea of doing a half marathon before we turned 30. She was thinking she needed to do something significant before moving on to the next decade. I decided I could support a friend and check something off my bucket list. Come mid-September, I found myself the only one of the original group of girls who was going to run signed up. One signed up for a different race and the friend turning 30 ended up dropping the idea all together. I found myself slightly annoyed, since this was not my idea and wasn’t something I really wanted to do, and now I was doing it alone.
Once my original friends dropped out of the race, I convinced two other girls at work to do the race with me. One did the half marathon as well and the other did the 10K. Come race day, all three of us set personal records for distance run. We bribed ourselves with breakfast out after the race.
Throughout September and October I found myself logging miles either on the treadmill at the gym or in the park on weekends for my long runs. Before I knew it, a Saturday morning 8-miler would be done almost before I’d fully woken up. Once a week I was supposed to run 3 miles at race pace. Supposedly it makes you faster over time. After a few weeks of doing this, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself increasing the speed on the treadmill, even for a warm up! Not only was I running longer, I was running faster. What a pleasant surprise that was!
I realized some things along the way in training for this race. One, life gets in the way. No matter how perfect I thought I had my training schedule figured out, I was constantly switching days and distances based on what I had going on that week. The second thing I learned was that it’s dumb to sign up for a race at the end of October in Oregon. Because in addition to life, weather also gets in the way.
On the morning of the race, I had a game plan, but I didn’t feel 100% prepared. I hadn’t gotten as many long runs in as I would have liked and was a little nervous. My theory with races though, is that if you’re 85-90% of the way there, adrenaline and guts will make up for the rest.
All week I’d been praying that the nice fall weather we’d been having would hold throughout the weekend. Or at least until after my race was done. Instead, the first big fall storm was predicted for that Sunday. So I dressed expecting to get wet. I did get my wish of starting out dry. The first mile or two it was dark and gray but nothing was leaking out of the sky yet. Then a light drizzle started. That wasn’t so bad, I’ve run in drizzles lots of times. Miles four and five it really started to pour. Big thick drops that almost hurt when they hit. Mile six it started to monsoon. Just when you thought it couldn’t rain any harder, it did. And the wind started howling.
At this point, you’re so wet that you don’t even notice it anymore. You’re just praying that your iPod keeps working (both my friends’ ended up dying). My feet were sloshing in my shoes and I’d given up trying to avoid puddles or rivers of water in the road. Lightweight running shoes start to feel like cement slippers. And then the course started to go uphill. And not just any hill, up Terwilliger. I often run hills when training, but no sane person willingly chooses to run up Terwilliger. But here I was, eight miles in and starting the uphill climb. I was soaked beyond head to toe, running in a monsoon, running uphill and with a cold. Add in the exercise induced asthma and I could hear myself wheezing over my iPod. Just when I thought I’d have to walk, we hit a level spot. For the next big uphill climb, I was smarter and slipped behind and old man and paced off of him for the bulk of the hill.
Around mile nine, this bright thing appeared in the sky. I hadn’t even noticed that it had stopped raining. I choked down one more Gu for energy and picked up the pace. I knew that the last three miles were downhill and I was still in position to meet my secondary goal of finishing in less than two hours. Being a Goertzen, and slightly competitive, it wasn’t enough to just finish. Well, it was, but I really wanted to do my first half marathon sub-two.
Finishing down hill in the sunshine was a nice way to cap off the run. Even better was when my exhausted body crossed the finish line in one hour, fifty-nine minutes, thirty-five seconds. My knees hurt, my hips were sore, my feet were pruny and I could wring water out of my dry fit clothing, but I was done. Goals accomplished.
The last time I did a race, with the exception of Hood to Coast, I kept wondering why I was doing it because I wasn’t having any fun. I vividly remember hating running miles three to five of that race. That was an 8K, so I was a little nervous for busting out a 13-miler. Maybe I wasn’t as physically prepared as I would have liked, but I was mentally prepared for what it would take for me to run this. I knew I couldn’t start thinking, okay, only 13 miles to go, and count down from there. That’s too overwhelming. So I broke it into three different races. I had to run five miles. Then I had to run five more miles (I didn’t let myself think about the fact that most of this five miles was uphill). And then all I had to run was a 5K and I could do that in my sleep.
My first half marathon is in the books, with a decent time and I even enjoyed myself. I’m not saying I’d want to run one every day, but I’m not opposed to doing another one in the future. Next time though, I’m signing up for a race where or when the weather is better. I’ve run a half through a monsoon. Next time I’d just like the half.
October 25, 2010
October 19, 2010
Duel Dieting
About a month ago, I decided that I needed to lose some weight and stop spending so much money. In a moment of perceived brilliance, I decided to go on a food diet and a spending diet simultaneously. This turned out to be one of my dumber ideas. And led me to the theory that you can only be on one diet at a time.
A month later, I weigh the same, but the money in my bank account is definitely less. While I didn’t buy anything extravagant, like a diamond tiara (but man that would have been awesome!), all those little purchases add up. The knives I’ve been wanting went on sale so I bought them. More than 50% off, I might add. Then I wanted some new shirts for work. You’d think you wouldn’t want to buy clothes when feeling chubby, but unfortunately life doesn’t work that way. Perhaps the only thing I bought that I really truly did not need was a down vest. But in my defense, while I may already have about 8 of them in my closet, I didn’t have one in this amazing shade of blue!
Having determined my spending diet a complete bust, I reaffirmed myself to the food diet. After getting rid of anything in my kitchen that could possibly be turned into a dessert, at least my pants are fitting better. That being said, I may have had a cookie with lunch today. Okay fine, I might have had two.
The problem with trying to do two diets at once was I did them both half assed. I determined that I could either have a skinny waist or a fat checking account, but it was unlikely that I’d have both at the same time. Somehow when you’re sacrificing in one area of life, you feel the need to splurge in the area. And for some reason, exercise just doesn’t work for me as a splurge.
Having decided that I don’t want to be fat (yeah, yeah, I know I’m not technically fat but “pleasantly plump” isn’t super motivating for weight loss) for my upcoming birthday, I’m recommitting myself to the food diet. I may be cash poor come December, but no amount of money is equal to the feeling of fitting into those skinny jeans.
A month later, I weigh the same, but the money in my bank account is definitely less. While I didn’t buy anything extravagant, like a diamond tiara (but man that would have been awesome!), all those little purchases add up. The knives I’ve been wanting went on sale so I bought them. More than 50% off, I might add. Then I wanted some new shirts for work. You’d think you wouldn’t want to buy clothes when feeling chubby, but unfortunately life doesn’t work that way. Perhaps the only thing I bought that I really truly did not need was a down vest. But in my defense, while I may already have about 8 of them in my closet, I didn’t have one in this amazing shade of blue!
Having determined my spending diet a complete bust, I reaffirmed myself to the food diet. After getting rid of anything in my kitchen that could possibly be turned into a dessert, at least my pants are fitting better. That being said, I may have had a cookie with lunch today. Okay fine, I might have had two.
The problem with trying to do two diets at once was I did them both half assed. I determined that I could either have a skinny waist or a fat checking account, but it was unlikely that I’d have both at the same time. Somehow when you’re sacrificing in one area of life, you feel the need to splurge in the area. And for some reason, exercise just doesn’t work for me as a splurge.
Having decided that I don’t want to be fat (yeah, yeah, I know I’m not technically fat but “pleasantly plump” isn’t super motivating for weight loss) for my upcoming birthday, I’m recommitting myself to the food diet. I may be cash poor come December, but no amount of money is equal to the feeling of fitting into those skinny jeans.
The Dreaded Hug
For the last year or two, I’ve been practicing hugging. That might seem like an odd thing to need to practice, but somewhere along the way, I lost the initiative to hug. I’ve always hugged family, but somehow missed the memo about hugging being the proper greeting as long as you weren’t at work. And if you’re not a natural hugger, trust me, getting used to all that hugging takes practice.
My good friends that I’d met prior to a few years ago all knew that I lacked the natural ability to hug. I’d hug back when pressed, but I’m awkward at the hug initiative. Hell, I used to not even touch people so I consider the fact that the hug seems to one of the last road blocks a good sign. Then I met my friend Megan, who would and does hug everybody she knows or meets. It turns out when you just get hugged all the time, it starts to seem less awkward. And while it still seems a little weird, I have good friends that I now hug whenever I see them. Sometimes I even initiate the hug. Feel free to send my “most improved” award to my home address.
Somewhere along the line, I started meeting people who didn’t know that I wasn’t a hugger. And for my self imposed hug therapy I decided to just go with it. And it turns out that everybody out there is a freaking hugger! I know this couple through another good friend of mine, and I end up running into them all over Portland in the most random places. On the Max, in Nordstrom, at Hood to Coast, etc. From about the second time we met, they started hugging me. For a person who typically only hugs family, hugging acquaintances is a big step.
The hugging of non-family and non-best friends has gotten so out of control that even my masseuse hugs me. But she gives the awkward extra long hug. As a new member of this hugging society, I’m not really sure what to do about that. I’m sure if she were a yummy smelling amazingly good looking guy, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
While I still wouldn’t call myself a hugger, I now hug. And while I enjoy being my own island, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that a hug just makes you feel good. One small hug for mankind, one giant step for Heidi.
My good friends that I’d met prior to a few years ago all knew that I lacked the natural ability to hug. I’d hug back when pressed, but I’m awkward at the hug initiative. Hell, I used to not even touch people so I consider the fact that the hug seems to one of the last road blocks a good sign. Then I met my friend Megan, who would and does hug everybody she knows or meets. It turns out when you just get hugged all the time, it starts to seem less awkward. And while it still seems a little weird, I have good friends that I now hug whenever I see them. Sometimes I even initiate the hug. Feel free to send my “most improved” award to my home address.
Somewhere along the line, I started meeting people who didn’t know that I wasn’t a hugger. And for my self imposed hug therapy I decided to just go with it. And it turns out that everybody out there is a freaking hugger! I know this couple through another good friend of mine, and I end up running into them all over Portland in the most random places. On the Max, in Nordstrom, at Hood to Coast, etc. From about the second time we met, they started hugging me. For a person who typically only hugs family, hugging acquaintances is a big step.
The hugging of non-family and non-best friends has gotten so out of control that even my masseuse hugs me. But she gives the awkward extra long hug. As a new member of this hugging society, I’m not really sure what to do about that. I’m sure if she were a yummy smelling amazingly good looking guy, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
While I still wouldn’t call myself a hugger, I now hug. And while I enjoy being my own island, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that a hug just makes you feel good. One small hug for mankind, one giant step for Heidi.
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