Mountain Sunrise

Have you ever been atop a mountain for a summer sunrise? It's an amazing experience and very motivating. If you haven't tried it, I would highly recommend it.
I set out on my six miler at 5:30 this morning, just as the sun was rising. I stepped out the door and took in a deep breath of that fresh morning air. I hit 'start' on my handy little gps watch and headed down the hill. A few possible routes crossed my mind, before I decided that today I was going to challenge myself. Running hills before really starting to build your mileage can be very beneficial later in your marathon training. I ran onto Whitney Avenue and then turned onto Davis Street. Up I trekked - I turned into East Rock Park and started my climb. It's a little over a mile from the Davis Street clearing to the summit of East Rock Mountain, and I kept a great pace climbing the hill. Though I've run East Rock Mountain many times, I was not prepared for the beauty that I experienced today. The haze was lightly guarding the city and the sun was lifting up into the sky. A light breeze swept my hair as I looked over the edge of the mountain. These things can't really be understood unless you've been there to feel it, and believe me - I am not a nature buff. I was instantly energized, and though I could have stood there for hours taking it all in, I had an amazing urge to sprint down the mountain. I held back and did not sprint due to the immense possibility of tripping and rolling down the mountain with no one in sight to witness. However, I did continue my morning run, with an overwhelming sense of contentment.

Although my legs were tired from a long week of training (tomorrow is my "rest" day), I could have run up that mountain ten more times, knowing the gift that would await my arrival at the peak.

Now, as I rest my legs (and pray that the poison ivy covering them scabs over), I think about my next run - What will I choose to explore? How fast will I move? What will feel great and what will be screaming for me to stop? It's often too easy to listen to the latter, but I always think of my end goal. If I give in to that sore hamstring or tense shoulder just once, it's going to happen again and again - this would affect my performance in New York tremendously. For any non-professional runner, one of the greatest secrets (okay, not a secret anymore) to performing well in a marathon and completing the race injury-free is to walk to the starting line with the confidence of knowing that you are well-trained. To cheat yourself out of training lessens your chances of success greatly.

One important thing that I need to share with everyone - I always have a purpose in a race, a person that I dedicate my run to. I've run in memory of family friends or to honor an aunt that is a breast cancer survivor. One race was dedicated to the memory of my best friend's dad. And, my first marathon was in memory of my good ol' pops. If it weren't for my dad, I probably never would have started running. He was a runner and tried for years to get me out on runs with him. I was Daddy's little girl and did everything else with him (fishing, working on the house or boat, etc.), but I was never able to join him on a run while he was alive. Even so, I know he's with me every time my sneaker hits the pavement. When I crossed the finish line in Hartford two years ago, I swear I felt his arms wrap around me in pride.

This year all of my training will culminate in a tribute to a very special and inspirational friend. When I learned of Karin's cancer diagnosis, I was devastated. Devastated for her, her family, her husband...But, several times a week she updates us all on her progress through her blog, which I must say is far better than mine. After her first chemo treatment, I was blown away by her optimism and strength. She is one for the saints' books. She is a truly amazing woman. Nothing gets her down, nothing. My devastation has morphed into awe and admiration.
Karin - As I eat up the soles of my Nike's plodding through the five boroughs of New York, I will be thinking of you every step of the way. Your light is enough to keep me going for one hundred miles or more. Much love...

Stretch It Out

Until a little over a year ago, I did not understand the importance of stretching and what benefits it could have on my running. I was scheduled to run New York last year, but was stricken with extreme physical pain along with disappointment and sadness when I developed tendinitis in my hip after training for a triathlon (by the way, I would gladly take marathon training over triathlon training any day). Several X-Rays and many visits to the chiropractor later, I could still barely make it up and down the stairs without pain shooting down my leg and up my back. I was in fact unable to run for over a month. That month seemed like a lifetime to me - I was lost. Running is like my best friend; always there when I need comfort, but then, I just couldn't reach it.
When I thought all hope was lost and I would be reduced to an elliptical addict forever, one of my Pilates students urged me to try Kate's Saturday morning YOGA class. "No thanks," I told her, "I've done YOGA several times before, and I really just don't have the patience for it." But, her incessant bragging about this class pushed me over the edge after a few weeks. One Saturday morning, I snuck into the back of the studio at LA Fitness not knowing what was about to hit me. In walked a tiny blond girl with her purple YOGA mat in hand. As she walked up to the front of the room and laid down her mat, I realized this must be Kate. Oh, this is going to be a breeze, I thought. She spoke softly, but fifteen minutes into her class my muscles were screaming. Although I was exhausted and drenched in sweat after that first class, I felt amazing - welcome to YOGAholics anonymous. So, I couldn't help myself - I had to go back the next week, and the next. I overheard one of the other students talking about going to the Sunday morning class. Sunday morning class??? I thought. I'm free Sundays, too. I could definitely make that class. And, the next day I went to Michelle's 8:30 class. How refreshing - very different in style, but equally as amazing. And, so it began...my weekend tradition of attending Kate's class at 11 on Saturday and Michelle's class at 8:30 on Sunday.
After a few weeks, I noticed a difference in the way I was walking. Stairs were no longer a torture chamber and I could sit for an hour without having to fidget every ten minutes to eliminate the tingling in my leg. I self-diagnosed myself - my tendinitis was healing. So, I knew that meant it was time for the next step. I hopped on the treadmill that Monday morning before work and played a game. Starting with a walk - Ok, that feels fine. Then up to a SLOW jog - Wow, I'm really doing it. And, then the real test, full speed ahead - Pain? No, really, no pain!
I was cured by this wonderful thing called YOGA. Now, I've been doing it ever since. I try to get in two classes a week, but with my heavy training on Saturdays, I've been unable to make it to Kate's class, which I do miss terribly. And, if I skip my Sunday morning class because of another commitment, my hamstrings certainly let me know that I made the wrong decision. It was indeed those tight hamstrings that inevitably led to my one month hiatus. I will never let them take over my life like that again. I am in charge here, legs, not you! You just carry me - I tell you when we go, where we go and how fast we get there.
I work so hard every Sunday morning now, standing there in warrior pose with my deep muscular tissue burning, but that tells me it's working, pulling those fibers longer. Holding downward dog, which was once like drinking battery acid for me, is now a welcome rest after a tough flow, where I release all the tension, Ahhhhh. Oh yeah, and remember the girl who couldn't touch her toes from elementary all the way through high school? Yep - I'm not that girl any more.
So, now I run until my next class. And, as a lesson to all of you runners - you are in charge, not your legs. But, you still need to treat them to a little stretching.