Crazy Like a Loon

There are few things better than a small local road race. The Loon Lake 5.5k in northern Whitley County, Ind. is the perfect example. For the third year out of the six years of this race, on the Fourth of July weekend I wandered a few country roads away from my uncle's cottage on Crooked Lake and signed up to run around Loon Lake with about 100 other people. The race lasts 0.5k longer than most road races because that's just the distance around the roads that surround Loon Lake. Makes perfect sense to me.

This year I arrived a little late (I've never been known for my punctuality) and suffered a cruel fate in the world of road racing -- I missed out on the race t-shirt. They had a larger-than-expected crowd and reserved the shirts only for the pre-registered.

The red shirts said "Crazy Like a Loon"on the front and had a picture of a running loon (a duck-like bird). I eventually picked my broken heart off the ground after consoling myself with the fact that I already own too many t-shirts, then hurried up only to wait in the port-o-potty line for a while. I squeezed in a short one-mile warm-up and headed towards the herd of people already on the road.

Near the start line I positioned myself behind a few gangly high school boys. Wearing their long shorts they bemoaned the fact they were there and had to run hard on a holiday weekend. I had flashbacks to high school cross country practices, waiting patiently behind the boys until I finally passed at least a few of them toward the end of the workout or race.

To my left I saw a young but toned girl, probably 12- or 13-years-old standing next to her dad. She told him she didn't really want to start that far up front. He shrugged his shoulders and made a facial expression that said "too bad, you're staying here." I cringed. So many talented young female runners have been pushed too hard by their parents, usually the fathers. Competitive distance running is too painful of a sport to not have intrinsic motivation to put one foot in front of the other, day in and day out.

The race started and the young girl blew past my not-very-warmed-up marathon legs. I tucked in behind another guy, then moved next to my teeny bopper competitor around the mile mark. She showed no signs of fatigue and for a moment fear flashed through me. Yes, I lack the speed I had in high school and college, but to get beat by someone of the Justin Bieber era -- that would really be a blow to the ol' ego.

Near one-and-a-half miles into the race she started breathing pretty hard and slowed down. I passed one more high school boy at the two-mile mark, and ran by myself for the rest of the 5.5 kilometers. The beautiful country scenery, with fields of corn, a lake and green trees distracted me, as did wondering if I'd rather have an Egg McMuffin or Hot Cakes after the race, and I slowed down significantly in the third mile. The power of focus is a distance runner's greatest asset, and lapses always show up on the clock. It is an unforgiving sport. But fortunately, I pulled out the overall female victory, and came in fifth overall behind four high schoolers.

I congratulated the young girl at the finish line and she told me "you were awesome." That was very nice of her, and reminded me that sometimes even strangers can have a big impact. She and her dad started cooling down immediately after the race, while I was still chit chatting with some of my family who had stopped by to watch the finish. I sat down my water bottle and did my cool down too, exploring the quiet county roads around northern Indiana's scenic lake district. It was quite a peaceful run, followed by a nice family lunch of pulled pork and one last dip into Crooked Lake (I never did stop for the Egg McMuffin or Hot Cakes. I secretly blamed them for my slow third mile).

Even without a race t-shirt, I gained a lot from this little event. For someone who spent years focused only on the clock and the place, it is always nice to be reminded of the other upsides of running - people gathering in solidarity to be healthy, achieve goals, get to know each other, etc.

On the ride home to Bloomington, Scott and I took a little detour so I could use the $25 gift certificate to a running store in Fort Wayne that I won at the race. After Scott dragged me away from the many distractions of shiny running clothes that I really didn't need, I used the prize money to buy some much needed new socks.

During the rest of the long drive on I-69, I-465 and SR37, I occasionally thought of the pony-tailed girl at the race. I only had the briefest of glimpses into her running career, but I hope what I saw was an anomaly. I hope her parents give her the space and freedom to pursue her interests and grow as a runner and a person.

Without soccer, basketball and various school activities to counterbalance running during my formative years, I would not be the runner, or person, I am today. I hope she and her parents remember the other people at the Loon Lake run, and countless other road races, and why they are there: for the love of the sport, for the health benefits, for the camaraderie, and even just for the t-shirt.

*The photo is from last year's Loon Lake race, but I wore the exact same outfit and the corn looked pretty much identical, so it still gives a good feel for the setting.

Monday Monday

What does a famous lasagna loving cartoon cat, Garfield, have in common with a long distance runner? A certain non-affinity for Mondays.

Sunday is my long run day, and my catch up on laundry day, and my work on freelance projects I've procrastinated writing day, and my go to the grocery story day, and my do lots of other stuff day. By the time the Monday morning alarm bells ring, it seems like Jon and Odie slipped some bricks into my running shoes.

It is mind and body boggling when six miles feels longer and harder than the 17 I ran the previous day. My only hope for Monday morning run completion is to establish a routine, stick with it, and download the "Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me" podcast from NPR onto my iPod shuffle before I head out the door.

Even though the cat is famous for being lazy, Garfield inspired me to get off the couch in the summer during my younger days. I would ride my bike to the bookstore every time I saved enough pet-sitting money to buy the next book in fellow Hoosier Jim Davis' series.

So, in a way, Garfield continues to inspire my athletic endeavors. By acknowledging Monday's impending ickiness, I know I just need to get through it and there will be a prize at the end. When I come back from my Monday run, I dive into a big dish of the runner's morning lasagna, a.k.a. oatmeal with cinnamon and banana and a glass of fruit juice. Garfield would be proud.

Flashback: IATCCC Hall of Fame Jan. 2010

This past January I had the honor of being inducted into the Indiana Association of Track and Cross Country Coaches Hall of Fame.

It was a lovely evening in Indianapolis with the people who made my running career possible: family, coaches, friends and supporters of all sorts.

Thanks to my last name, I was alphabetically the first inductee to speak. My speech was non-traditional and the crowd was silent as I approached the lectern. I felt butterflies in my stomach similar to those I used to get before high school track races. But unlike high school, I didn't down half a bottle of Tums and a mini Snickers bar to ward off the nerves.

Instead, I took a deep breath and blurted it out. It went over ok, I think. At the intermission a few ladies in the restroom told me they enjoyed my speech. It sure was different (and shorter) than the rest of the speeches.

Here's the text, along with a few photos from the evening:

"I wrote a speech for tonight, but it was kind of boring and it kept making me cry when I read it, so instead I put together a little poem, so here it goes...

People tell me I am crazy for running every day

I tell them, YES, I know, but I didn't start out this way.

First, I loved basketball, then later soccer I would play

Until I ran high school track, then I knew this sport would stay.

West Lafayette was a great place to go to school,

Teachers, coaches, teammates and friends - my motivation, they did fuel.

My soccer coaches let me run cross country, and that's when I got stronger

Steve Lewark met me for early morning runs, even though I wanted to sleep longer.

Lane Custer and Chris Williams kept me going on the course and on the track

"We laugh at inclement weather," Custer would say, and to state meets, I fondly look back.

Judy Bogenschutz Wilson took a chance on recruiting a girl from Purdue-land

Since I liked the school and they had kicked out Knight, Dad said - IU, he could now stand.

Coach Wilson was patient with me and we worked through tough times and many a mile

But the good times were more than worth it, and her corny jokes always make me smile.

I have to thank my dad, my sister, all my family and friends for their love and support.

Without their encouragement I would not have gone as far in this great sport.

I am very grateful to be here tonight, and honored to be in this Hall of Fame,

I don't know how all you high school coaches do it, I think those kids would drive me insane.

Thanks now to Brooks and Robert Chapman for letting me continue to compete

My addiction to distance running, I never will defeat.

That's all I have to say tonight, thank you for your time

I appreciate your patience while sitting through my rhyme."

Here's a book review from The Guardian that might be of interest:

Running: A Global History by Thor Gotaas

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/jan/03/running-long-distance-global-history

I haven't read it yet as I'm vowing to complete more of the many unread books on my shel before spending more money on books, but it looks really interesting. Here's an excerpt from the review by writer Christopher McDougall:

"Gotaas's span begins with prehistory, arguing that because of our sweat glands and springy leg tendons, humans are the greatest distance runners on earth. Our tremendous efficiency at venting heat and maximising caloric energy allows us to run big game to death by chasing them across the savannah until they collapse from heat exhaustion. Access to meat allowed us to grow big brains, while tracking animals allowed us to use this cerebral hardware to develop abstract thinking, verbal communication and cooperation strategies, the mental skills we'd later use to come up with intravascular surgery and iPods."

Two Miles

Today I ran two miles. I was supposed to run a marathon. I had my sights on the Rock 'n Roll Arizona race in sunny Phoenix, and I was hoping to use it to qualify for the 2012 Olympic Trials Marathon.

Instead, I tied up my laces in partly sunny Bloomington, Ind., jogged out seven minutes and thirty seconds, and turned around. My stomach gurgled. My throat burned. My feet shuffled.

Not exactly what I had envisioned for this day when I was making my training schedule a few months ago; yet, I couldn't help but recall past times when injury would leave me wishing for nothing more than a two mile jog.

Just as I was getting back in to the swing, and the physical pounding, of serious marathon training in late October, I started having gastrointestinal issues. At first I thought it was something I ate, then maybe a stomach bug, perhaps a food allergy.

But a few doctor visits, some blood samples, some other samples I’d rather not discuss, an ultrasound, a colonoscopy, and a three-hour series of x-rays after drinking 20 oz. of barium, I am still having problems. Thank goodness I have COBRA insurance from my former university job, or both my stomach and my wallet would really be hurting.

Sometimes I get confused - am I 25 or 65 with all these medical issues? I have a follow-up visit to the gastroenterologist in early February, which was the earliest appointment he had to discuss the results of the x-rays, which I had on Dec. 29. Five weeks is a long time to wait when running, eating, sleeping, walking, sitting and existing in general are made constantly uncomfortable.

Nonetheless, I am afraid karma will come to get me if I complain too much (I’ve been watching a lot of episodes of Lost lately). It can always be worse. How many people didn’t, and couldn’t, run two miles today? Not I.

So now I will go watch more Lost to distract myself from the fact that I can't run as much as I would like. And who knows, maybe tomorrow I'll be able to get in three miles.

Confessions of a Klutz

In the past five months or so since I last posted I have been running, but nothing much to brag about. Last week, though, I took a newsworthy tumble on the Bloomington Rails to Trail, just past a sign that said "Danger: Falling Rocks." I made it past all the rocks (none of which were falling, just a few nicely placed below a bridge), all proud of myself for staying upright when my right ankle nipped a leaf-covered root and I flew forward, landing on my right elbow. Life lesson No. 7,349 learned from running: Don't be cocky about making it past the big boulders because it's the little things that will trip you up when you least expect it.

Mud-covered and moaning I got back up and decided the fastest way back to my car was to run, so I did. When I got there I realized my elbow was really bleeding, so I high-tailed it back to my apartment and took a shower and tried to clean up the wound. It wasn't very big, but I couldn't get the dirt out.

So I did what any clueless person would do and took a picture of my elbow in the bathroom mirror using my iPhone and emailed it to my friend, Anne, and asked her what to do. As a mother of two I consider her the world's foremost non-physician medical expert on injuries and illness. The fact that she is British makes her seem extra smart as well. After getting her response saying I should probably have it checked out, and then making and eating a bowl of banana-pumpkin-cinnamon oatmeal with peanut butter and some coffee, I went to PromptCare.

Nice folks at PromtCare, but it is anything but Prompt. After two hours I came out with a tetanus shot, most of the skin scrubbed off of my elbow with a plastic torture brush, two stitches, a slightly blue and slightly swollen but not broken ankle, and a bandage around my arm that was supposed to keep me from bending it.

This was a fairly minor incident - a bum ankle and two stitches - but unlike previous

falls, I at least had some evidence that I was in pain. When I flew over the handlebars on my bike and landed on my bum, nobody saw that bruise. They just wondered why I walked around like I had a plunger stuck up my butt for the next three weeks. When I fell two years ago and landed on some rocks on a trail in Dean Wilderness, nobody could tell that every breath was another knife stabbing into my lungs thanks to the broken ribs. On my long list of self-inflicted accidents this one rates at the top for sympathy received and speedy recovery. I would recommend it to all the other running klutzes out there, at least over most of the alternative injuries.

By Saturday (three days post-fall) I was able to run again. I participated in the 10th annual Hoosiers Outrun Cancer event and ran faster than I thought I would in the 5k given I had taken the last two days off and have been doing a lot of long slow base-building work. HOC is one of my favorite road races because the greater-Bloomington community is so involved and the money goes to a great cause. The day started out cloudy and grey but the skies opened up, as if a lot of people were looking down from above on the group of runners, walkers, volunteers and supporters. I stopped by the Rebound Physical Therapy tent in hopes of seeing some of my physical therapists friends so I could show them my cool stitches and regale them with another tale of my running tribulations. But alas, Rebound sent one of the very few people I don't actually know from that operation. So I walked back to my apartment and ate some lunch. And that's the not-so-exciting update from here.

Stride on, friends.

Luck of the Hoosier

Like all runners, no matter how hard I try to deny it, I do harbor some superstitious tendencies. I have long since shed my lucky socks from high school, but I was afraid to write about my running lately in case I jinxed myself. Afraid no more: after almost a month back in my Brooks shoes I am knocking on wood yet happy to report that the miles are slowly but surely falling under foot.

I have been injured before and had to come back from the wasteland of out-of-shapeness before, but there is something special about doing it in the heat, hills and humidity of summer in Bloomington, Ind. When I was on a work trip and ran on a treadmill in an air conditioned room last month I thought to myself, wow, maybe my little stationary bike rides and occasional elliptical machine use really did keep my cardiovascular system primed. Then I returned to Bloomington and discovered otherwise. I sweat profusely up each incline and the four mile runs that used to seem so short now involve some of the mental tricks I once saved for 12-mile threshold workouts.

Not to complain, though, because I would rather be huffing and puffing for short periods than sitting on the couch for long ones. Plus, other factors will contribute to a quick return: no more full time job with its associated sleep deprivation and stress, a pass to the IU Outdoor Pool for some cross training and relaxation, yoga class at the YMCA to keep those tight hips loose, a new running-based strength class at Rebound Physical Therapy Clinic, and a generally more peaceful existence.

My speed and endurance may need a few four leaf clovers to help them along, but I have learned that recovering from an injury is less about luck than patience, not about glamor but guts. There will be many ugly runs in my near future; there is no escaping that reality. No worries, though, because I am just paying my dues before that future breakout marathon, whenever and wherever that might be.

Stride on, friends.