Yesterday was one of my planned races before my current goal of a half-marathon this year. This particular 10k race is in my hometown and draws about 5000 people every year so it's equal parts race and festivities. 

As the course is rather flat and I've now spent 4 months working on running form and transitioning to minimalist shoes, I was hoping to be able to get close to my personal best from 4 years ago (which was the last time I did some serious running). 

During the race I felt strong, in control and light on my feet. It felt surprisingly well even though I was pacing myself to end up close to my PB. In the end I slowed down a little bit and ended up at a time that was 15 s from my previous best time. Since I'm currently only at week 4 in the foundation program, I'm looking forward to crushing this time later this year :)

That’s it.  Swift, strong, smart. My mantra for running Cruel Jewel next week. If you’ve kept up any with my endless blogging, you will learn that I am quite creative and visual. I am also Cherokee, and as I grow older I am finding great joy in learning more about my heritage and our native ancestors. I spent much of my early childhood on reservations and near tribal lands due to my father’s work with different tribes. I love the stories and storytelling as it suits my vivid imagination. This imagination really seems to fire up on long trail runs. It’s a time for me to meditate, pray, soul search, connect, understand. It is also a time to get a little bored ;0)...That is when I get mischievous and start dreaming up stories of animals, intermingling them with legends and stories from my Cherokee ancestors and other tribes. Cherokee elders have encouraged me to “make the stories your own” It is good to change and adapt them and retell, putting a personal spin on them. It is in this context I hope to lead you into where I am going.

As any normal human being attempting things that seem impossible, confidence can be hard to come by. The “voices of reason” step in...the Walters if you will (again...see previous blogs to meet ole Walter). Walter says things like, “you are 41 years old with 3 children, husband, and full time job...don’t you think it’s selfish to do all this running?”, “You will never be fast….and why do you want to be fast anyway?”, “Do you really think you are inspiring others or just hoping to justify what you want to do?”. “Skyrunning?...really?...you live in Oklahoma...you will die.” Walter isn’t a bad guy, he’s not right or wrong, he challenges me...and I am learning to let him be there and be ok with that.  I think ultimately he’s trying to protect me so I still have affection for him.

Now, Cruel Jewel is on the very near horizon. The kick off to the US Skyrunning Series (I am registered for all 5 events). In keeping with my Native American roots, and to help me focus on what I want to look like/be like/feel like as a runner. And considering my recent dive into animal storytelling, I decided to think about animals, what animal embodies the qualities I want to embody as I run. I thought about how animals run. The deer...fast and graceful...but for brief courses. The rabbit...fast, smart, a little tricky, but again not the endurance runner. The horse? Definitely can go the distance, but more of a walk. The wolf? I had never really thought about a wolf on the run or as a runner, but the first word that came to mind was “swift”. Although not the fastest dude in nature, swift….efficient...does fit. What about endurance? I did a little research...they can travel up to 30-50 miles a day and cruise at about 5mph when traveling. Yup 5mph is a run and not too far off how fast a human might be able to move over that distance. What else comes to mind? Strong...the wolf embodies strength, strength of body and form, strength of mind also. And they are smart. So I tried it out..went for a run and visualized how a wolf runs...swift, strong, smart. And there’s my mantra and my visualization.

Just ran a 4:32 mile. My training has been going great and nearly all of my injuries and pains have gone away. I have been able to step up my training dramatically and have dropped time very quickly. I started about a year ago with this program, and now I have noticed how much better my form is. Thanks for this great program!

So, it's been a while since I managed to write, life has been very busy.  I had fallen off the cool impossible path which I had so much enthusiasm and confidence in, mainly because I couldn't stick to the plan set out in the book. 

I am a Critical Care Nurse, I work full time and on my work days I either work 12 hour day or night shifts plus travelling on top..... so basically 06:00-21:00 is an average day. Where can I fit in the training there? 

Well, some times I work a 09:00-17:00 on clinical education training days and seeing as my long shift reduce the amount of actual days in work (Usually 3-4 per week) I have 3-4 days not at work Now, if I work two long days back to back......the intensity of the work and only getting 2 x 30 minute breaks a day.......you can imagine how tired I can get. 

So what is a guy to do? 

Eric's plan is 5 months of training, with 6 days running a week. I decide that, as long as I run every day I am not on a long shift and I do run on my days off and when I work a short shift.......It may take me another month to get through the plan but......I will follow the consecutive days schedules but not in the fixed 6 days a week rigid plan. 

This has reduced the pressure I had forced upon my self which ultimately caused me to fail, fall off the path and sulk like baby. 

I am now feeling great! My form is improving, I don't get 'tired' or sore legs like I used to when running in my old form even though I have to also walk 15-30 miles a week exercising the dogs and I am also on my feet walking all day at work........something is working with this amazing coaching. 

Love my new B2R shoes......awesome. I am still transitioning into them properly........I have a pair of zero drop road shoes which I am using for the final transition phase as there is a small amount of cushioning in them which is helping to reduce impact out on the roads as I am used to trail/grass running. B2R shoes are very very comfortable, well worth the money.  

The full transition has been: Reduced drop trail shoes with some old road running shoes at times then to Walsh fell running shoes (already had them) which enabled me to maintain grip and gave some better form ability with minimal support, and then I introduced the B2R shoe. According to run distance and terrain I mixed it up a bit and now I am 100% zero drop between Merell road shoe and B2R shoes. 

More slant board work needs to be implemented to increase strength but overall....... I am back with my cool impossible.

Aim:

Complete the 5 month programme by end of October

Then, train for the Charnwood Bowline Hill Race. 

Let me introduce you to Mr. Tommy Hafey, here in Australia he's a living legend for many reasons. 50 years ago he was a professional footballer, playing Australian Rules Football (AFL) in an era when the rules, though basically the same as today, could be manipulated far more easily given the grounds were not flooded with TV camera's. There also was no video review, only one field umpire (now we have 3) and the shear thuggery that was tolerated by players, officials and the fans was immeasurably more than it is today. In fact it was in some ways a totally different game, and a totally different world from what it is today. Tommy Hafey was a hard man but a fair man by the standards of the day, however today he just would'nt be tollerated, none of his peers would be. Tommy retired as a player in 1965 having played 190 games for the Richmond Tigers over 11 years.

He was then apointed head coach at Richmond, before going on to coach the Geelong and Sydney AFL clubs, coaching some 570 games winning his fare share of premierships (Championships) along the way. Upon leaving "the game" he was then in the media for many years, on Television and writting for the papers. But what he's probably most famous for today is his fitness and health regieme.

Tommy Hafey is 83, yes 83 years old and his fitness regieme puts most people's to shame, including me and it has not altered since 1965 when he retired as a player, in fact it's increased as he got older. Every morning before sun rise no matter the weather he runs 10 to 12 Km's, ocean swims 4 Km's then completes 500 push-ups, 300 sit-ups and 200 leg raises. But wait there's more, for the past 37 years he's eaten an Asian based diet, he's been tea total since his playing days, never having alcohol and he's also been processed sugar free all that time. He gave up sugar all those years ago to prove to his daughter that it was just mind over matter and if you wanted do truely do something in life, put your mind to it, anything and it's achievable.

His nickname since his playing days is "Tee Shirt Tommy" because no matter what the weather, summer, winter, rain hail or shine he only ever seems to wear, you guessed it, a tee shirt.

Now Tommy lectures on health and fitness visiting schools talking to the benifits of regular exercise, healthy living, discipline and that we all must have a passion in life, not any passion, not someone elses passion, our passion. How it is our responcibility to go out into the world and find our own passion and pursue it with our whole being. He is truely one of the most insparational, down to earth people anyone could meet or listen to. 

Unfortunately Tommy is in hospital at present, in early March he had a brain tumor removed and has had to be re-admitted to hospital due to complications arising from the surgery. Everyone here will be praying for him, sending him good vibes for a speedy recovery because none of us is quite ready for a world without tee shirt Tommy.

Tommy Hafey, in my opinion, in bodies The Cool Impossible and what Eric and his philosophies teach us all about health, fitness, true self, over coming fear and humanity. There are far too few Tommy Hafey's in this world, people like him are lit from within and without fear or favor they shine a beacon of light on our own lifes path, helping us find our way . 

A speedy recovery Tommy.

Yesterday called for the last, longest training run before the first US Skyrunning Series Ultra event - Cruel Jewel 50 (really 56 miles...ahem!).  I’ve been racing now coming up on 3 years and these are the runs that seem to be a defining point for me in my training. I know it’s coming and I really look forward to the challenge I always know it will be. This run, this one long run each season, before the races start, is always the most memorable because it gets me feeling the way I know I’m going to feel mid-late stages of a race, tired, legs a little zapped, passing clouds of uncertainty followed by periods of ease and flow, then more passing clouds, the miles seeming longer and longer. These runs are far more mental than physical and just a slight taste of what will happen in race scenario. That’s what they are meant to be...I think.

I sweet talked a runner from Arkansas, James to join me for 20 of the 30 miles. The weather was shaping up to be potentially severe, but we were pretty sure we had a good window of opportunity before the really severe stuff came in. We got lucky. Tornadoes did end up making their way through the north and east of us later that evening and night causing extensive damage and loss of life in Quawpaw, Ok and North Little Rock, Ar.

We started at 7am. Temps in the 60s with 80% humidity and passing clouds. Did I mention humidity at 80%? We took off at an easy pace on the trails of Hobbs State Park. I decided to go by effort, only looking at HR to make sure I wasn’t letting myself get too high. It was nice to have company and share in the beauty around us.

The dogwoods were in full bloom and looked like patches of snow between the greenery. Off the trail the ground cover was turning vibrant kelly green...lots of poison oak cropping up as well...my nemesis! We cruised down the first holler, sun peeping through trees and a nice breeze. We power hiked parts of steeper but relatively short climbs to stay comfortable. alternating sun/clouds above with few sprinkles here and there. As the sun rose, so did the temps and humidity. We hit around mi 7 or 8 and stopped to refill our water and I grabbed a few more gels and pocket fuel. I decided to try a solid...which usually goes over miserably. I ate about half of a payday. Some friends turned me on to these at an ultra event I crewed at. We took off down “the Bunny Ears”. These are 2 3 mi loops that have a slow shallow grade down to the lake and back up.  The first bunny ear went fine, by the second one though the heat was starting to zap us and our conversation pretty much fizzled out! The payday seemed to go down without issue and I was remaining aware of and drinking to thirst. I have found if I make sure to drink when I start to get a little thirsty I do very well on the hydration end. I alternated gels and pocket fuel (a almond butter/fruit blend) which kept me fueled well. We popped off the second bunny ear and topped off our water. I gobbled the other half of the payday and we were off...The next 5 miles to the visitor center would be cruising along.

We had a little brief 10 min shower and things steamed up. The second bunny ear slow steady climb up from the lake took a bit of a toll on me, but I backed off and was perking back up making our way to mi 18-19. We hit the visitor center, and stopped briefly to decide the next segment. James agreed to show me a new to me 8 mi trail called Pigeon’s Roost. He got me to the trail head and as we rolled in, a group of young guys asked if we would take their picture. I wasn’t paying attention when we hit the visitor center and didn’t realize until we got to Pigeon Roost that I was almost out of water. Not good when you have 10 miles to go. I agreed to take their picture in exchange for some water to get me through the next segment. They agreed it was a fair trade.

James and I parted ways and I headed solo down Pigeon Roost. This would be an 8 mile loop that takes you again down and around Beaver Lake. Within the first mile the skies became very dark and the winds picked up. I cruised down and started climbing back up and could feel the fatigue in my legs settle in. They were very heavy and my breathing a little harder trying to climb. I remembered to back off and keep it easy...well as easy as I can let myself keep it ;). The climbs were a shallow grade and very runnable so I did, just very very slowly up. Started to get a nice little downpour and some thunder. About 4 miles in to the loop I hit some low points, just tired feeling legs. I did my systems checks…”are you keeping this easy?”, “when was the last time you had calories?” “water?” Is there something you can do to help yourself feel better?  At this point I was just watching my feet, not looking ahead or scanning the trail…..then blammo! I saw it just as I was about to step on it...a timber rattler coiled up right in the middle of the trail.

Shit! I hurdled that sucker and just barely avoided stepping flat on him! I flew down the trail past hiim seeing every root and stick as a snake for about 50 meters. I must’ve been a sight, flailing, cursing, leaping, squeeling at roots and sticks! It gave me such a start! Just as soon as I settled down just slightly a HUGE thunderclap and lightening strike no more than a ¼ mi away. Sent me zooming and cursing again! Now I was mad and terrified! I wanted airlifted off the f’ing trail right then and there! I knew I was 3-4 miles from the trail head and there was no other idiot out there in the weather. After a small fit, I thought, “alright, alright….just do what you need to do.. pay attention to the trial, to the sky and be smart and get moving’. At that very moment I took a sip from my pack and heard that all to familiar sound of air and water. Out of water. Oh well. I knew I was 3-4 mi from the visitor center so this would just be an annoyance and not anything to worry much about. The little storm that cropped up in minutes dissolved just as quickly as it fired up and the sun was again peeking through clouds. The trail brought me down to the lake again.

I decided this might be a good time to get my legs in the water, wash off any poison oak oil and just recollect my nerves a bit. The water was beautifully clear and cold. I walked in shoes and all up to my knees and washed my face and rubbed my legs. “there, much better”, I thought. Back up the trail and hit the trail head and pavement. The trail on Pigeon Roost seemed particulary rocky so the ¼ mile of paved road felt like a nice little break. My feet and knees were getting a little achy. Hit the visitor center at 27-28 miles and filled up on water. Ate some pocket fuel and headed back down the trail for a short out and back to make 30 miles. I was thinking on those last couple miles, “I’m ready to be done, but honestly feel like I could go another 10-20-or more miles if I needed to, this is how I want to feel at 30 miles in a race”. At that point I knew I had nailed today’s run. I ran it just like I was supposed to. I was so pleased….and so freakin’ ready for some real food!

Alright, I’m going to admit something that I would rather not, but in the interest of being smarter and improving my running, I feel it is necessary. I read TCI last year and jumped right into Phase 1. But, Karen, you don’t have a HR monitor. “That’s ok”, I said to myself, “I can run based on feel.” Bad idea #1. 6 weeks into Phase 1 my heel and arch started feeling tight and sore. “I’m sure that’ll go away.” Bad idea #2. Continued to train, since the pain was only bad first thing in the morning and some evenings after teaching all day. Bad idea #3. Then one day after a 15 miler, I was hobbling around with pain and tightness that almost brought me to tears. “This is ridiculous”, I thought. “Stop being so stupid and fix the problem.” Yes, I wanted to run that 50K, but at what cost? If I want to be a life-long runner, I've got to take better care of myself. I've took 2 weeks off running, cycling instead. I gradually started to run again, alternating running and cycling. Oh, and I bought an HR monitor. (Insert sheepish grin here.) After only wearing it a few times, I realized that I was NOT running in the zones I should have been. It totally explains where my plantar fasciitis came from. At first I was really pissed off at myself for being so stupid. But I quickly realized that wasn't going to help me heal and improve. I have embraced starting over. There’s something exciting about starting fresh again. Has my training been cut WAY back? Yes, but I know I’ll get back up to those long runs that I love so much. Will I run that 50K this year? Probably not, but that doesn't mean I won’t run it eventually. I guess my CI has changed into a restorative goal versus a performance goal. It’s not what I was originally going for, but that’s what it is. Nothing I can do about it now, but learn from the experience and grow. (And not be so stubborn in the future!!) I am starting over and I’m OK with that.

I am tucked in between Scott Jurek and Chris McDougall.  The pace is not so hard that we can’t talk, but there was no conversing.  As the trail weaved, curved, and turned back on itself, I tried to get a peak and glance at the Tarahumara Indian ultrarunners positioned single file ahead of Scott and I.  For so long, they were mythical runners to me, and now I was running with them, they were now real.

Deep in the steep cuts of Mexico’s Copper Canyon, we were trekking 30 miles, traveling from one town, up and over the canyon’s rim to another town.  Old school transportation, Tarahumara style. 

We ultrarunners, from the USA, did not speak their language, nor did they, ours.  There was no need for verbal communication, our running was our communication, a common language that both American and Tarahumara runner understood.  We had a common bond.  Our initial athletic focus on the trail, of our footsteps, our pace, our breathing, soon turned to smiles.  We knew them, as they knew us – running brings this out in people.

Run forward a few years and I am running the Lantau trails outside of Hong Kong.  My life’s passion of running and coaching has brought me to Mainland China to develop my own line of running shoes.  Up until this point, China was a mythical place to me, and here I was, using my running to experience it for real. 

In the heart of Shenzhen, China, I woke early one morning to get my run in before heading to the factory for a long day of shoe development.  Running the paths of the golf course at our host hotel, I came upon a man doing Tai Chi and that universal athlete language ‘spoke’ again.  I ran past him with a smile, he returned the smile without losing his focus.

The following day, I made a point to run at the same time and location in hopes to see my ‘friend’ again and sure enough, there he was, same time and location.  But this day we exchanged smiles and a high five as I ran past him.  Day three, I stopped to watch his meticulous practice and he motioned me over, showing me a few movements – my first Tai Chi lesson.  It was that same athletic sign language that I had experienced deep in the Copper Canyon.  No words were spoken.  We didn’t need words because we both understood dedication, practice, effort, discipline, and the rewards that come from it.

Speed up a week and I was running the very steep hills of the Lantau trail as I came across a group of local runners speeding towards me.  As we approached each other, we all began to smile and one runner glanced down at my freshly made shoes and pointed.  We all stopped, as the pointing of his finger instigated some talk from his group.  Words I did not understand, but the body language I did.  Before I realized it, I blurted out, “Born To Run?”

Every one of the runners, in unison, replied, “ah Born To Run” in perfect English, shaking their heads, smiling with complete understanding.  Nothing more needed to be said.  I was part of them, and they part of me.

We are global runners who speak the same language.  As a running and performance guru, I have spent a lifetime learning and thinking about running and about the limitless possibilities of the human body and mind—from my astounding, philosophy-affirming run adventure with the Tarahumara runners of Mexico, to my current work with elite and developing athletes—and I am ready to share this knowledge.   This is a chance for me to instruct and inspire as the coach I am. For you, it is a chance to make amazing new strides.

The Cool Impossible is intended for runners and aspiring runners of all levels of ability and experience, from those contemplating their first hopeful steps, to seasoned marathoners and ultrarunners seeking to discover new challenges and unlock the full range of their capabilities.   I will lay out in the book my own experiences and development as a coach, and explain in a clear, step-by-step format how to build that perfect running body, covering the topics of running form, strength development, cardiovascular training, and nutrition, drawing along the way on my experiences with the Tarahumara, as chronicled in Christopher McDougall’s best-selling 2009 book Born to Run.

Finally, and most important, The Cool Impossible is more than just running, it is a challenge to live your dreams everyday.  As we begin to live our dreams, we begin to understand why Tai Chi masters spend entire lifetimes perfecting their art of movement. It is the sheer poetry of creating something and working on it until it is truly and absolutely right that ultimately keeps you coming back - coming back each morning at the same time, at the same location.

In these pages, I will lay out my concept of The Cool Impossible: a goal pursued by dreaming beyond fear and living beyond limits.  You will learn specific protocols of visualization and imagery to help you develop your own Cool Impossible.  

It is this last element that will make The Cool Impossible a book to dip back into again and again for inspiration and reinforcement. Like a favorite running companion, The Cool Impossible will be there with you, stride for stride, helping you go farther than you ever thought you could.

This book is also the first step towards my cool impossible, unifying the World with running. Thank you for being part of my dream and I look forward to the day we meet on your favorite trail, running with big smiles.

Being a newbie! I just have a few que
as I am training to run a marathon in Oct and doing the BBMC an 18mile trail over the Brecon Beacons in Wales UK.
1) I find it very hard to run short (3-4 miles) distances, i.e I don't relax until mile 4-5, I still enjoy getting out, so will it still help in my training
2) do we have our own built in speed that we run at? As I have tried Fartlek training but it made me worse !! So now don't do this anymore. So the question is really is speed training important?
I am sure I have lots more to ask but one thing at a time :-)

I am struggling a bit

 with speedwork. I have developed a little “track anxiety”. Speedwork is fun when it’s easy and you hit the times you want. That hasn’t happened for me lately, I have struggled a bit on the track and now I have some sheer anxiety at the thought of speedwork. I finally broke down and reached out to coach. He encouraged me to visualize my track workout for the next day. I couldn’t do it. I got still, I saw myself warming up, doing the speedups and getting ready to do the first 800meter speed interval. I tried to visualize the pace range on my watch and staying in that pace zone...then I would see myself falling under pace by the end of the first lap (as I have done before), feel the anxiety, tensing up, getting slower, chest getting tight, heart racing, pushing harder, feeling like I’m dying…..and then lose the visual and start thinking about other things. I couldn’t get through the full 800 in my head. I could only visualize what I had experienced, trying to change it, making the past experience different.

Further instruction from coach, “focus on running by TIME, not pace. This is very Important”. I had never done this. I had always just looked at pace, making sure I was staying in a certain pace range, ie 6:10-6:20 for 800m.  The anxiety went higher...I thought, “Shit, I’ve never done that before, I don’t think I can. I don’t know how to judge 800 meters in time...how do I make sure I hit 800m at 3:09? How do I know if I’m going too fast or not fast enough?” I didn’t trust that I could do it. I was now fairly terrified. And fairly mad that I was scared to run 800m..”of all the things to be afraid of...how stupid is that?!”. Then, coach says, “Flip your watch so you only see time..a stopwatch”.  We talked more about how to visualize this. Coach also said, “AND, where we need to go with this and for the races and future is to help you realize: To be your best, you must be willing to fail…”

Oh and then the damn dam broke! I got mad.  Out of nowhere I blurted out in the mirror in front of me “If I am harder on myself than anyone else then no one else can hurt me or blind side me. How do I let go of that?!”

I shocked even myself, Wha? Huh? Where the hell did that come from?! “ok Lori, you’ve done lost your mind”. My head swirling and coach still sending me emails..”ok I want you to see the 400 meter split time I gave you for the 800s, use the stop watch function and use this split to help you FEEL this effort…..’ He might as well have been speaking Japanese at this point...I was gone.

It became clear, I don’t want to do the speedwork, I don’t want to try to guage distance/time, I might fail. I want to be safe. But it wasn’t about speedwork, it was about life. If I am keeping myself safe, then I won’t get hurt. I am locking myself in this cage I’ve created so no one can hurt me...except me. It translates in my running…”If I am harder on myself than anyone else on the track, in my workouts…in life”  A wise friend told me, “The more you are willing to hurt, the more free you become!  Run free...live free!”.  To get what you really want...to reach for your cool impossible, you have to be willing to fail.

So back to visualization.  I tried again a few more times that evening to visualize the track workout. I could see the warmup as I had done many many times, I could see starting the first 800m and myself and how I felt and then I  could feel it getting difficult and I tried to change the outcome that I knew in my head was coming. I couldn’t CHANGE what I had experienced previously (missing the target time/pace) into what I WANTED to see.  Then I woke up trying to figure out why I couldn’t CHANGE my visualization...and it hit. Lori, you CANT change the past. Quit trying to take your past experience on the track, visualizing it,  trying to change it. Let go and CREATE what you want to see. And blammo! I did it!  I could visualize it! The whole damn thing! The times on my watch, the effort I wanted, all of it! When I let go of the past I could create what I wanted.  And it clicked...in life...let go of the past to create what you want.  Simple. You can’t change the past, converting it into something you want. Not possible, so quit trying Lori. Now, if that’s what it was all about….but nope… there’s more.

So now I get out on the track, still very very nervous, but in a much healthier sort of way. So here we go..20 min warm up...then a 400m at 1:34 to get pace and feel for what the 800 would be like. Then the first 800….I nailed it to the second! I hit the 400 mark right on cue and 800 mark. It was extremely difficult though and my legs were not spunky at all. I knew this is where the second part of the lesson may be coming in to play. On to 800m interval number 2. 200m in I am almost right on cue, but by 400 I was over 1:34. My legs were jello-y and my effort maxed. I could feel my pace fading and at 800 my time was over the goal by several seconds. I was ok though. I didn’t feel angry or frustrated. On to 800m number 3. Started out, by 400m I was over on time. My mantra, “focus” came in. I was focused on relaxed breathing, pushing my legs and my body as hard as I could without blowing up, focusing on making my form as efficient as possible, fast as possible. I was over again by several seconds. the 4th and 5th 800m intervals were similar.To get what you really want...you have to be willing to fail

The difference was that I was at peace throughout. Working to my best effort, best form, best mindset possible. I was willing to fail. After the second 800 interval I knew there was no way I was going to succeed at hitting the goal time, but the difference was, this time I was WILLING to fail. To reach as far and as hard as possible at that 3:09 800 meter target knowing I might...and likely would...fail. But if I didn’t reach like I was going to get it I would never know, So I reached with every 800 like I was going to get it.

Now I wish my thinking and my understanding of what is going on were all neat and in a nutshell and internal, but the reality is it’s not. I got a glimpse yesterday, and I write this to remind myself, so that it does becomes natural and internal. 

A friend sent this in an email the other day and I think it pretty well sums it up....

Free State Trail Half Marathon – Lawrence, KS

Saturday April 19^th I ran the Free State Half for the first time. Keeping pace with every other Trail Nerds event I have been involved with this was a challenging and exciting day. At start time the temperature was about 48 degrees but it was going to warm up quickly. I was not focusing on a specific pace or finish time but I still wanted it to be respectable. Typical to my habits, I arrived early and wandered around a little getting a feel for the day. On my way back to my Jeep I ran into my friend Jeff and we talked until it was time to get our gear and head to the start line. Looking back I am thankful for the distraction while we talked about upcoming races and possibly me pacing part of his 100 miler in November. You can feel the energy from the crowd and the DJ’s music getting everyone pumped up. Ben gives his final instructions and tells us to go!

I settle into a semi-comfortable pace and commit to myself to maintain and keep moving as long as I can. After a bit we enter the woods for approximately twelve miles that remains. I purposely left my GPS home to not be distracted by constantly looking at it so I do what I usually do. At first people are bunched together but slowly after a couple more miles, there is more space. I try to not lose sight of the group in front while not letting the group behind catch me. This works for about half of the race. After I pass through the RWB aid station I get the dry heaves from eating a bug I then refocus on putting one foot in front of the other and not stopping. It never ceases to amaze me how many people in these kinds of events will check to make sure you are okay as they come to pass you. Trust me I know the protocol on being passed and letting people get around me on the trail. Too much practice I guess.

As we get to the beautiful red trail along the lake which is rocky, I get behind a gentleman who like me is working hard and he offers to move aside. I decline and fall in with his strategy of walk/running the rocky/hilly section. When we are coming close to Lands End and another friendly aid station, I eat my Nutella wrap and drink the rest of my water so I can refill it for the final push to the finish. I not only lose sight of the runner I have been pacing off of but now I am getting cramps in both legs. They are not constant but they are sharp when they come so I cautiously continue and try to catch my pacer. Once I see him ahead I return to my spacing strategy while I work through the cramps and attempt to close the gap. I get passed by some of the forty mile participants which I try not to think about too much. I am not competing against them or anyone else out here. I am running because it is time to test myself and learn how to be a better me. Another humbling moment is when we come up a hill and there is a guy standing there cheering people on with a metal from the half marathon around his neck. I am pretty sure he was the winner today. Very cool that he is down here cheering people on. I have passed the photographer twice and I think I hid the pain from his lenses but only time will tell.

Is that music and people I hear? Wait, now we have turned and it is getting further away. There it is again, and this music yoyo continues for a little while until I see another finisher standing in the woods on the side of the trail cheering for us and he says “good job, only one more hill and about 200 yards!” This time the voices and music gets louder and does not fade. I see the other Photographer from Mile90 Photography at the finish line and run in to the finish again masking my cramping legs for the camera. I receive my finisher’s metal and sticker from Coco and thankfully, I am done! It is still a party atmosphere as I hang out for a little bit and attempt to loosen my legs up a bit. I see a friend of mine named Carl who is doing the 100K as he comes in and goes back out again. Now I begin the long journey back to where I parked. Yes I am hurting and not looking forward to the multitude of times that I will need to depress the clutch at traffic lights as I leave town, but I am one step closer to my Cool Impossible of the 50K this fall.         

In a bit of a break from the norm, sort of, I want to post up what is technically, I guess, an old running story. I thought I'd share as it's a chapter from the book I've written about how I went from not-running to running pretty far - I'm virtually ready to publish now, so I guess if anyone is interested in reading the whole thing, then it'll be around soon enough :)

I hope it's ok posting it here as a kind of toe-in-the-water to see if you guys like it. Anyway, here goes:

3

Two Beaches

Lessons #11-15

Sometimes, the most unassuming reasons to try something are also the best.

Preparation is not always a bad thing.

At some point, I’m going to go the wrong way. Suck it up and run.

Clean clothes are overrated.

Being mental might be quite fun.

"Hello Joe, it's me, uh and as you might be able to see, ah, I'm at Saunton. I just got here, ah... because the sky's pretty dark, maybe that you can see, it's just about five in the morning and I've beaten the sun here; the sun's coming up over that way in about two minutes. There's a lot of rain coming from that way that I'm going back to, um, but I wanted to send you the video because I think we can look back on this as the point where me, ah, where I lost it. This is the bit where Ben went round the bend..."

This is from the short mobile-phone video that I sent to my brother from a very windy, cold, Saunton Beach at, as I mention, about five in the morning of 15th July 2012. This was only around two or three months after I'd decided to start running a bit more, but I think that run ended up being a pivotal one in my mental growth as a runner.
Rewind around one week from that early-morning jaunt to Saunton and you find me on what had been my longest (and most prepared-for) run so far – 28km roughly following the nearby coastline from Barnstaple to another local beach at Woolacombe for their annual sandcastle competition. I say 'for' the sandcastle competition, and that's the reason I gave at the time, but I almost don't want to sully the memory of my real intentions by attaching such a just-about-socially-acceptable reasoning to the trip. Pretty simply, I ran there because I thought I might be able to.

Lesson #11
Sometimes, the most unassuming reasons to try something are also the best.

I'd been toying with the idea of pushing my distances up from the now-standard 12-15ish kilometres I'd been happily running. Since I'd been without even mild injury for a while, I'd started to feel more confident in my abilities—maybe even a combination of cocky at having 'beaten' these distances and just bored with feeling like I wasn't trying anything new any more. In spite of this, I was still firmly resisting the title of 'runner' to both myself and other people; I was still just casually running from place to place, as far as I was concerned.
However, the French have an expression that says 'love, a cough, smoke and money can never long be hid'; I'd add 'wanting to run a long way' to that. When a few of my friends had been talking about going to the sandcastle competition which was then in a couple of days' time, I almost didn't think before saying that I'd go and meet them there, on foot. Announcing my plan—so casually, too—unfortunately couldn't be ignored and this was the first time that I had to fit together my own insistence that what I was suggesting was perfectly normal with other people's reactions of disbelief. I also, with hindsight, see them almost looking at me differently as I unintentionally took the stage from being just a friend who casually runs to... something slightly different.
Of course, this initial reaction passed quickly (I seem to remember we were enjoying a few beers at the time) and conversation moved on with my plan back under the radar, until I showed up at one of my friends, Sophie's, house with a bag packed with clean clothes for me to wear after arriving at the competition. Dropping that bag off was probably more significant than I'd realised it was going to be—this would be the first time I'd committed, to myself or to anyone else, that I was going to run at a definite time, with a definite plan. Dropping that bag off meant that turning back on my decision would be a lot harder to do (maybe not exactly insurmountable should I have really wanted to back out, but compare that with the difficulty of just saying to myself "I'm not going out today").
This commitment wasn't the end of my preparation, it turned out. Of course, I had to let my friends know what sort of time I'd be arriving—this meant not only planning out my route and calculating the distance, but then putting some thought into how long it would take me to run that far. Even when I realised I'd have to think about this, before I sat down to hash it out, I started to feel naïvely uneasy at this requirement to start doing things that I'd heard and seen 'proper runners' doing. Even something as simple as figuring out an unfamiliar route seemed restrictive, although looking back, I see I was close to being a bit childish about this desire to under-prepare.
Eventually I brought myself to do it all, though, and found an online running site that would let me plan out a route and then send it to my phone, so I could follow it by GPS. I also bought a small running water bottle, to add to my begrudgingly-growing collection of runner's paraphernalia, and filled it with a free sample of electrolyte drink that I'd received with my FiveFingers (I remember I was only taking the drink to use it up, though—who needed in-run electrolyte refuelling?). With that and some cash in my pocket, I was set. It makes me smile now to think about how that between clean clothes, a sports drink and a few quid, I was the most prepared I'd ever been for a run; it almost makes me think that there's some kind of genuine Zen lesson in that statement somewhere.

Lesson #12
Preparation is not always a bad thing.

I didn't need to start particularly early in the day to get to the competition on time, so I had a nice mid-morning start to the run, which started out covering the same section of cycle path between my home and work, that I’d covered many times before. Although I didn't have any real strategy for the run to speak of, I did try to keep my pace reasonably slow on this first, flat portion—so far, so good. I ate up the first 10km without really even thinking about it. Unfortunately, that's where things started to get a little more interesting.
As I hadn't been used to running with my phone for a GPS before, I was still enjoying the novelty of following my progress as a thin red line on a screen, following the blue of my planned route. Although it probably wasn't healthy for my running to be frequently fiddling with the display and checking my inexorably slow progress across the map, it at least meant that I noticed fairly quickly when the GPS signal got lost—the first moment of what would turn out to be it staying lost for the remainder of the run. On the plus side, I knew the general direction I was supposed to be heading in (the fact that the route could be summed up by 'keep the sea on your left' for most of the later parts helped), but unfortunately there were a fair number of winding country roads to negotiate before I got to the easy part of the directions, which I could at least remember as 'golf course, footpath, coastal path' when I got there.
Not so much worried as exasperated, I carried on in what I assumed to be the right direction, being forced to think less about my running itself and more about which way I was supposed to be turning at each junction. After about twenty minutes of this, I (rather anticlimactically) found the golf course.
It had turned out that the more difficult-to-guess part of the route, the part I was most concerned about, was fairly straightforward; unfortunately, the easy-to-remember next part was also easy-to-get-wrong. I arrived at Saunton Golf Course, which sits nestled inbetween the nearby marshland, fields and dunes from Saunton Beach, and immediately saw footpath signs. Stupidly, I ignored or didn't even notice that the footpath in question was heading west, towards the sea, when I wanted to be heading north, parallel to the beach.
Although I didn't realise my mistake at first, I soon started to think that something was up by the fact this 'footpath' had started to turn into a twisting, sandy track cut through distinctly beachy-looking flora. My error was sealed when I eventually crested a particularly tall bump in the path to emerge from the dunes and find myself on the long, sandy expanse that is Saunton Beach—around 2km south from where I wanted to be!

Lesson #13
At some point, I’m going to go the wrong way. Suck it up and run.

Undeterred, I gathered myself and started running along the beach to where I knew I could rejoin the main road and (hopefully) get back onto the coastal path fairly easily. Fairly sure now that I was behind time to meet my friends, I started to push my pace a little, just hoping that the extra bit of exertion wouldn't have too much of a negative effect on how I was feeling. In fact, I found myself enjoying the feeling of pushing myself on the damp sand's forgiving surface.
From the beach I found my way up onto the main road fairly easily, but the traffic on its several blind corners meant that it was unsafe to follow for too far. Mentally, it was on to the next task—figure out a way up onto the next stretch of coastal path and away from the main road as soon as possible.
Again, what I thought would be the difficult part of the plan ended up being fairly straightforward—from the main road, it was only a short distance to another footpath that led up onto a hilly set of fields overlooking the danger of the cars and linking up with the actual coastal path a way ahead. And, again, the easy part—actually following the fotpath—turned out tough as it ascended into a nightmare of boggy mud, herds of overly-inquisitive cows and finished with sliding down a final muddy slope on my backside after losing my footing on the slick surface. Just to top it off, as soon as I slid to a halt, a perfectly-friendly and well-meaning pair of hikers came around a corner just ahead of me and took great interest in what my FiveFingers were like to run in. I told them what I knew and gave them what was even by then becoming a somewhat-rehearsed short version of my reasons for minimalist running... they seemed genuinely interested and talked about how they were both considering trying it, but I'm not sure whether they would have had the same enthusiasm if they'd have seen my preceding tumble!
From there, though, luckily the run was fairly straightforward. I paused at another beach, adjacent to Woolacombe, to pick up my first ever mid-run scavenging refuel: a chocolate bar and juice to replace my now-empty bottle of electrolyte potion. Pleasantly re-energised by the food and by the rest I took to eat it, I set off at an easy, fresh pace around the final cliff-top point and along another seemingly-endless beach to where the competition was being held. Since then, when I've been out running with a friend of mine, Luke, along beaches, we've contemplated the pros and cons of running along the shoreline like this—on the one hand, the sand feels great, is conducive to great running form and helps build fitness brilliantly; on the other, it's so hard to tell how far you've come or got to go due to the featureless sand. Running the final stretch of beach into Woolacombe almost started to feel like an empty limbo—peaceful, sure, but as there were no points of reference aside from a very-distant town becoming gradually a bit less-very-distant, it was also getting perilously close to being soul-destroying!

When I eventually reached the sandcastle competition, which was being held in the vicinity of the main town part of Woolacombe, I didn't immediately reflect on it being any kind of achievement—I just felt great. I had a few minutes before my friends arrived, which I spent wandering around the town, not feeling particularly hard-done by the run there. My legs still felt fairly fresh, but more pleasingly I didn't feel like my breathing was laboured or my heart was bursting out of my chest—score one for moderate pacing! Although I knew I'd run further than I'd ever run before, the naïve part of me that shucked anything too prepared or complicated was also satisfied that I'd done it with only a little extra preparatory effort to accompany the actual 'putting one foot in front of the other'.
Eventually, my friends arrived, sporting bigger smiles than I'd been expecting (if I'd been expecting anything) and full of congratulations. It took me the rest of our time there, pacing around the sandcastles and eating ferociously hot beach-side prawns, until the thought started to work its way into my head that the reason they were smiling and asking me so many questions about the run there—'how long did it take?', 'don't your feet hurt?'—was that I'd done something more out of the ordinary than I believed. I certainly didn't think I warranted too much praise—I hadn't even run a marathon distance, I'd stopped for fuel along the way, I'd gotten horrendously lost and had had to explain a perfectly-positioned dirty brown smear on the back of my shorts from my muddy slide (as is perfect and unavoidable in this kind of situation, Sophie had forgotten the bag with my clean clothes in).

Lesson #14
Clean clothes are overrated.

In spite of my rationalisations, something had clicked inside me. Well, a few things—I knew I could run further than I'd previously been trying to without too much difficulty and still have enough reserve energy in the tank to tackle problems along the way that might make the going longer or more taxing. My desire for simplicity in my running had been introduced to the idea that just a little bit of preparation could make for a very good, fun run and so maybe planning wasn't that bad. I'd also been given positive reinforcement that going out and running not for the running itself, but for the idea of getting somewhere, could be very rewarding.
I hadn't had a problem with nailing my colours to the mast about doing something a bit unusual and committing to doing it, so what else, I wondered, could I do using running as a tool to get there?

After a couple of days of recovery from the run to Woolacombe on the Sunday, I was itching to get out again. I ran a couple of shorter-length runs around the park near my house, but I kept coming back to thinking about the enjoyment I'd had from my excursion around the coast (this was shortly before I pretty much stopped running anything less than 5km at a time, as I started to feel like it was a bit pointless to even go out the door otherwise). It came to Saturday afternoon before I had the next idea for a run, which was to watch the sun rise on the beach. Since it was summer, the sun would be rising pretty much at the earliest it was going to through the year (around 5am), meaning that I would rarely have to rise as early to do it. Almost because of this extra aspect, I must have figured I couldn't make the plan any more difficult – so I decided there was no time like the present and settled on going out that night.
I traced out the route from the previous Sunday's run and estimated that it would take me around an hour and a half to get to the beach at Saunton again, followed by a different route home that would come back partly along the main road (which I hoped would be a lot quieter at that time of the morning) and through another nearby village for a route that was around 25km in total.
With literally a few hours to go before I would have to set off, this time constraint happily forced me into minimal preparation. I decided on taking just a handheld water bottle, torch, a phone and some cash, knowing that I'd be able to pick up some food from a small newsagents along the way back if I desperately needed to.
That evening, I had a 'social engagement' already planned with a few friends and although I didn't exactly party hard (it also being the first time I had to explain this sobriety using running as a reason, getting some fairly quizzical looks from my friends), I didn't get to bed until about 11.30pm. Once there, the act of setting my phone's alarm for 3am was the first thing to actually give me pause over what I was plotting to do; the screen helpfully pointing out that this alarm would go off in around three and a half hours' time. Thanks for that.
A little doubt started to creep in at this point, not about whether I could do such an early morning jaunt, but over whether there was any point. Afterwards, when people asked me why I went, the answer of 'to watch the sun rise' seemed to make less sense, almost raising more questions; luckily at 11.30pm on that Saturday, this answer was enough to renew my faith and get me off to sleep.
It felt like approximately five seconds had gone by before my alarm started going off. Although I'm normally a snooze-button addict, I've fortunately always been able to at least remember I'm supposed to be getting out of bed for something especially important. Thanks to this, I was up and tackling my 'preparation pile' (easily mistaken for a pile of clothes slung on my bedroom floor) within a few minutes and blearily made my way to the kitchen. Here, I was greeted by the first stark reminder that I was doing something a little strange – my flatmate, Ben, getting in from the same night out that I'd joined him on a few short hours before.
In the classic manner of two very sleepy or very drunk men, we exchanged a few mumbled greetings and 'good luck's before he dove into bed and I dove into a cup of strong, black, sugary coffee. I stupored my way through a couple of slices of toast and, pretty much on autopilot, found myself standing on my front step a few minutes later.
There, I took a few moments to mentally centre myself. The coffee and food was already starting to wake me up a bit and it did feel good to be breathing in some cold fresh air. The dark briskness of the air was only stopped from being completely tranquil by the residual noises of people making their way home through the town after various nights out, but if anything this helped me to visualise a personal deception: I wasn't going for a run at 3.30 in the morning, it was simply an evening run after a day at work. I took a final heavy breath to watch it hang in the air and then I set off.
The simple act of running soon warmed me up against the chill of the night and I was thankfully distracted further from the cold by the local 'social wildlife'. I've never been much of a clubber anyway, but it was an experience to be running, stone cold sober, through groups of the local clubs' clientèle, who ranged from stumbling around drunk, to fumbling around with each other in the dark shadows that lined the path, apparently far from normal people's eyes. I chuckled to myself that I was only (reluctantly) privy to these trysts because that night, I wasn't a 'normal' person.
Soon, I was running along the cycle path out of town – my first time running in near-complete darkness – and I'd never felt so alone. My own steady breathing was the only sound now and my eyes kept darting to every movement by the side of the path. Oddly, I wasn't particularly afraid of having to deal with possible unfriendly acquaintances along the way, but the darkness gave my more primal instincts a firmer grip on the reins, keeping me overly alert to any moving shadows.
Constantly running into the small pool of torchlight ahead of me was a novel experience in itself – because I couldn't see much more than a few feet in front of me, it helped me to very much focus in the present. The effect was almost meditative and I found it very easy to fall into a rhythmic loop of placing one foot after the other, not worrying about how far I'd come, or had left to go. I was able to find good form and run not only fairly quickly, but fairly easily too – it almost became as if I was a passenger on this journey, just 'sitting tight' until I got there.
The first few kilometres were over before I'd really begun to think about it and because of the time of night, I'd been virtually undisturbed, other than by a couple of people making their way home who were equal parts merry and terrified when I came padding out of the darkness.
I came to the spot where my GPS had given up the ghost the week before and allowed myself a smile as I checked my watch to get an idea of my pace (this was in my pre-Garmin days). I was still on track to get to Saunton for 5am. Good. I knew the route, knew it was flat and I was feeling very strong. I pressed on and started to really relax into my running. Because the sun was starting its final approach towards rising, I was gradually able to see around me more easily and take in more of the scenery as it started to get a little lighter. As the pre-dawn light began to cast fields and buildings in slate and navy, I started to remember why I enjoyed running in the first place; I enjoy seeing things I wouldn't have seen otherwise, or seeing them in a different or unusual way.
I got to the golf course in what seemed like no time at all and I was soon making my way beyond it along the foot-rollercoaster that was the undulating sandy path through the dunes. Soon, it was light enough for me to ditch the torch and as I did, 'Natural-runner Ben' came out to play – dispensing with even this basic bit of technology made me feel a burst of freedom and I started quickening my pace.
At that point, it all came together. Both physically and mentally, everything clicked: my breathing was comfortable; my pace, form and cadence all felt great and inside, I knew at this point that I'd made it—the sun was still a way from rising and I wasn't far from the beach. All of this together filled me with a great sense of joy and I was soon starting to laugh as I ran, almost sprinting up each mini-ascent and virtually bounding down each downhill.
I reached the larger rise that bordered the beach and it was there that I became aware of my own exuberance, which spilled over when I hit record to send Joe the video message. Sure, the run back home was beautiful, passing lone surfers on their way to catch an early wave, passing a couple out training a nervous pair of young huskies to pull a wheeled sled and enjoying the misty beauty of the early morning; it was that moment of watching the sun rise at Saunton, though, that was by far the most important to me. Right then, I realised that I'd achieved something that I thought was on the limits of my physical ability, dreamt up by something towards the edge of my mental attitude. If I could do something like this after only a few weeks of making an effort with running, what other more incredible things might I be able to do?

Lesson #15
Being mental might be quite fun.

HAPPY EASTER TO ALL, I HOPE IT WAS A PEACEFUL AND HAPPY TIME FOR EVERYONE.

On Thursday my family and I flew to Adelaide, spending Easter with my sister's and their families and as always the first thing I packed was my running gear. The weather in Adelaide was fantastic, warm and sunny, so it was great to be outside let alone be outside and running on such beautiful days.

On the Thursday before Easter and Good Friday I completed day's 4 and 5 of Phase 1, Week 6 on grass at a park not far from the beach 5 or 6 km from my sisters place. While there on Thursday doing my warm up and sprint work I had 3 people come over and ask about these strange Blue shoes I was wearing. Two of the enquires were general and when I started to briefly explain how they worked, where they could be purchased and about TCI, their eye's glazed over. However the third person put the name of the book and the web address of TCI in her phone. Then on Friday we had dinner with the whole family and my other sister who has had great trouble with the feet and legs was very interested in the foot strength excercises in TCI, so you never know I may have spread the word a little further.

On Sunday, mid morning, I did my long run for the week, trying to keep my HR in HRZ.2 as per the Startegic Running Foundation, completing 20.6 km in 2:01.23 with my average HR for the run being 142 BPM. Looking at the data afrerwards my HR spiked for the first km or so then settled down into HRZ.2b for most of the run. Though it did creap up into the lower end of HRZ.3 every now and then through out most of the run. My zone 2, based on my tests, is 131 to 140 BPM and zone 3 is 141 to145 BPM.

My B2R's were left in the bag for this run and I ran in my New Balance 1080-V2's so as to continue the slow transition to full time running in my B2R Trail shoes.

I ran a mostly flat course that followed a bike path to the beach then along the beach front for about 5 km. There was a couple of small hills evenly spread through out the run but nothing that was too taxing. It was warm being about 25 deg C, there was almost no wind and when I ran along side the ocean it was like glass. Once I left the beach I ran along the perimeter of a golf course before hitting quiet suburban streets for much of the run. For the final part of the run I ran along the footpath of a main Rd but given it was Easter Sunday it too was relatively quiet.

The pleasing thing about the run was that though my legs were tired before I started, I had no trouble at all running. I listened to my ipod but remained aware, concentrating on form and cadence with my legs seemingly not deteriorating to any great extent over the run like they once would have.

Then after my CD, protein shake and shower my legs felt a little more fatigued than they did before the run but nothing like they have in the past. I have in the past, many times, given a similar work load to the past few weeks, had my hamstrings cramp up once I had cooled down, showered and/or sat down. I use to dread sitting down and I would be on edge knowing I was going to cramp, and if I did cramp I'd almost be in tears with the pain. But thanks to Eric and TCI I feel those days are well and truely behind me now.

Well, there's another day that just drifted away. They slip past almost unnoticed, one by one by one. And they're busy days, full of work and family and everything else that matters. Until you suddenly sit up and think, hey, it's nearly the end of April, that's another month lost by stealth, another month without running. And you start to realize what it means, that yet another season is just going to pass you by. It's a cold feeling in the pit of your gut, to face up to the fact that all those races you had hoped to enter for the first time in, what, 3 years? will be run without you. Oh, just checked, 4 years. This will be my 4th year without a single race from the spring/summer program. But it's not even the racing, or the CI of a sub 6 minute mile before Lori - it's the horrible thought that I haven't run since early February. What? How? Why? And I've worked on the phlegmatic and I've worked on the philosophical and I've worked on the optimistic and I've done all the XXXXing boring exercises that the physio reckoned would sort out this sore knee in 8 weeks.... and you start to lose hope when there's just no traction, that, actually, it's not improving, that it's not making a difference, that, if anything, it's getting worse. Going down stairs, going up stairs, any kind of knee bend, but especially, yikes, especially, the dreaded pistol squat, gives the distinct impression that someone is trying to lever off my kneecap with a crowbar. Knee tracking problems, apparently. Weak quad muscles, they reckon. But giving it a name and a diagnosis and a whole heap of corrective strengthening exercises hasn't changed a damn thing. And so the sense of something slipping away increases. Oh, I plug away. I keep doing the fitball core stuff, if only because a six pack at my age is no small achievement. And I stand dutifully on the slant board, though more out of habit that any sense that it will be of any immediate use. But it's so frustrating, because it seemed so close to realizing the dream of just being able to run and run and run...

Sorry, very depressing post. Needed to get it off my chest.

I've been working with Northeastern State University Army ROTC, doing a running clinic with them monthly since August. Today I had the opportunity to test out the obstacle course with them at Camp Gruber. Here are a few pics!

Eeeeaaaaallllllmooooost...  I did finally get it!  

This one was one of my favorite, over 1 bar, under the other...a challenge, especially as you got higher,...

The goal was to jump from the lower post and hit the upper post at the hips and flip over. I got it, but it wasn't pretty!

And who doesn't like playing in the sand?

All in all, it was a blast....Maybe an obstacle death race in my future?

Trail runner looked forward to her first spring run on the trails in Arkansas. As she stepped onto the trail she remembered the last time she was out there, snow on the ground, animal tracks everywhere to be found. Although a cold morning, spring was in the air and evident in the woods.  The redwood and dogwood blooming, green patches of grass rising up, pushing aside the leaves of winter. Trail runner is training for several extremely difficult and long trail runs this summer, and today she was to push hard on some hill repeats. Less than a ¼ mile into the forest she heard hawk’s loud call greeting her. “Ayeee!” she yelled back to greet him as well. Squirrels darted back and forth and the sun was dancing between the trees. The forest seemed happy to have company to share it’s splendor, showing off her new spring decor. Trail runner’s thoughts drifted to the hill repeats to come. She rounded the corner going down the ridge into the gap, and before she knew it she flew right over a rattlesnake~ utsa'nätï. “Whohoa!” she yelled as her feet instinctively lept over utsa'nätï. She stopped and turned around to look. She was now a safe enough distance that she felt comfortable observing him. “I remember you”, he said. Trail runner was a bit startled to understand utsa'nätï, as she had all but forgotten her last encounter with the animals of this particular forest and had almost let it slip into her memory as a dream.

Trail runner fumbled through her memory of the last trail run in this forest. It was an adventure indeed, complete with a race with deer and rabbit! But, she did not remember seeing utsa'nätï. “You ssssseeeee”, he said, “I heard how you helped deer that day, therefore I will not harm you today, I will help you”. Trail runner looked at utsa'nätï, and remembered that it is said that the deer and snake act as allies. When one is injured or harmed, the other will avenge the offender. In accordance, since trail runner showed compassion to deer during their race, helping him and providing him nourishment, snake determined that he would balance that with a gesture in kind today.

Utsa'nätï went on to teach trail runner a story that would help protect her in the future, as he knew she was bound to encounter other utsa'nätï on her adventures. He began, “One day long ago, Cherokee children were playing in the field when they stumbled upon utsa'nätï. The children screamed, drawing the attention of their mother. She saw the snake posed to strike at one of the children and she threw a rock at its head and killed it. Afterward she felt a pang of guilt for having to kill a living creature, but she felt she had no option. Her husband, hunting in the woods suddenly heard the rattling of many utsa'nätï nearby. He asked the crying snakes, “brother snakes, why do you cry?”. “Because our leader has been killed” they replied. “We are mourning and planning our revenge”. The brave offered to help, He told them, “If there is something I can do, I will do it,” he promised.  “Be sure you mean what you say”, said one of the utsa'nätï. “For you may regret your promise once you know what happened.” “My word stands firm”. “Ask and it is yours.”  The utsa'nätï swarmed together determining how to avenge their leaders killing. They returned to the brave and said, “It is your wife that killed our leader. To make things right again, she must be sacrificed.” The brave fell to the ground and cried. The utsa'nätï assumed he would go back on his word and started toward the village. The brave asked, “Where are you going?”. “To exact our revenge,” the newly appointed leader said.  “My promise is my bond,” the brave insisted. “Just tell me what you want me to do”. “When you return home, tell your wife you want fresh water from the well,” explained utsa'nätï. “I will be there to bite her, but I promise her death will be swift.” “As you will,” said the brave. Once there he did exactly as he had promised; asking his wife for fresh water from the well. His heart broke when her heard her cry as the snake struck her foot. The brave went to the well and held his lifeless wife in his arms. “It is done!” he told utsa'nätï. “Balance has been restored once more.” “you are a man of your word,” said utsa'nätï. “As such, your people shall always be protected by our clan. I will teach you our song. Teach it to your people. Then, should our clans ever again encounter each other, by singing this song we will know that you are friends and not strike out to kill you.”  

Trail runner listened intently and after absorbing all that she heard, she spoke, “I was not aware of this bond, I am Cherokee, but was not raised traditionally and do not know this song”. Utsa'nätï replied, “I know, but because of your kindness to deer, I will teach you”. He taught her the song she now carries in her heart, grateful to utsa'nätï for the kindness he showed her. She would not forget the story, the song, or utsa'nätï’s kindness shown her that day.

-Thank you Charlotte Kunchinsky, author, columnist and poet for the above reiteration of the story of the Cherokee learned the snake song.

I am Cherokee, not raised traditionally and not fullblood, I am learning my heritage. I am very proud of my Cherokee history and ancestors. These stories give me a way to explore my own heritage and give me a creative outlet. It also gives me something to do as I run many many many miles solo on those trails in training and racing. I thank my “traditional” family and friends who are patient with me and teach me much.

Well, I haven't posted anything since deciding to try running again.  As I said, I felt particularly unfit and still had the chronic remnants of many injuries received over the years.  Reading Eric's book really inspired me but I realised my feet were in a terrible state from many, many years of wrong shoes and NEVER walking barefoot!  The answer came in the form of Eric's 6 week beginners course.  I am now 4 weeks into it......and LOVING running!  This is a completely new experience for me.......I can't wait to get out at the end of the day  (my dogs also say thank you Eric :)).  In fact, I think I now have a bit of tendonitis in my flexor halluces longus, (probably been overdoing the slant board whilst training), and I am having real problems resting it......I just want to run!  I was very good for a couple of days and then....my B2R shoes arrived.......couldn't help myself........thought I'd just go for a walk and try short jogs, just to see how they felt.....you know?  Well ended up running for 30mins!  Back to ice and anti-inflammatories!

Anyway I just wanted to say a very big thank you Eric.  I may only be taking baby steps, but it feels how I always thought running should!!!

A little aside - I have also changed my diet in a fairly major way and between running and diet I have been able to reduce my anti-hypertensives by half!  Hoping to prove all the medics wrong and be off them by the end of the year!

Since December we’ve been focusing on training, intentionally avoiding racing early so I can be as ready as possible for my Cool Impossible, the US Skyrunning Series - Ultra. This was my first opportunity to hit the trails racing. I entered the 25k distance so I wouldn’t need much if any recovery following the race and be able to jump right back into training. It was somewhat of a last minute decision to enter this and we didn’t intend to change my training plan for it. The week leading up to this one ended up being topsy-turvy with a cold virus for me and then a sick husband, complete with emergency room party and overnight stay!! As crazy as the week was, I just kinda went with the flow, ran when I could, and did what my body and life would allow. It could’ve been disastrous, but I ended up feeling pretty primed for a race. I think I was also ready to let loose some pent up energy!  By Friday my cold was resolving, husband not only home from the hospital, but ready to run his own race, and kiddos excited to be at the lake helping the race director and the aid stations.

Got out to the race start, located on a trail system around Lake McMurtry. Good to see friend and race director Ken Childress, with Tulsa Area Trail and Ultra Runners (TATUR), his wife Dana, and many friends I don’t get to see except at these kind of events. The kids would be volunteering at the start/finish, so we got them hooked up and I took off for m

y warm up. I usually sneak off by myself, giving me a chance to relax and get a feel for things. I pondered my coach’s last words before my race. We had talked back and forth about awareness, finding that line in racing of not going out to hard, but not being too conservative either. He told me, “And if you battle Walter every minute, you will not go out too hard - contemplate that one”. Awe Hell.  I didn’t get what he meant. As I was warming up I was trying to figure it out.. Does he mean I should battle Walter the whole way?  That doesn't sound fun. Hmm...if I am battling Walter I won’t go out too fast. Will I let Walter hold me back? I dunno. I shook my head and made my way to the start.

Friends immediately pulled me to the front and teased about following me. This is the part that makes me most uncomfortable. I have done extremely well at local races and I get a fair amount of teasing/compliments. It’s flattering, but hard not to convert that to pressure. I felt more comfortable though, not pressured, confident in my ability to perform, but not expecting anything. That used to really stress me out (it still does if I choose to let it), and I see how it stresses other runners, even keeps them from racing. Expectations, expectations I thought others had...expectations I had or thought I should have. But, finally, I am learning... WHO CARES?!! Really, who cares where I finish? Nobody’s life depends on it, I’m not going to be the hot topic of anyones conversation if I come in 2nd or 5th or 35th. Yes, I want to finish first and I am going to race as smart and competitively as I can, but

 I am not going to let that desire be destructive. Now, I will say that is easy for me to say and hard for me to practice myself, but I’m getting it. Racing in other states has helped too. Coming in first and coming in 671st are both good teachers! Coming in at the front of the pack, strong and confident, feeling great, and coming in just under the cut off, wheels off, gaskets blown...after training your ass off for months for that ONE race...gives you perspective.

Oh sheesh, look at me, got all off down a rabbit trail! So, my goal for this race was to run smart but still “go for it”. To find that sweet spot. The race director yelled go! There were about 7 or 8 guys in front of me and I ran out with friend Jenny. She stayed with me for the first half mile or so on trail and then as I warmed up I sped up. For the first 2 miles I played back and forth a bit with a couple of guys and then found myself alone, the lead pack out of sight and the rest behind.  All by myself I thought….as usual, here I am, aaallll by myself, ...waa! That lasted about 3 seconds before the views and the trail caught my attention.

The trail was mildly technical single track windy trail with short up and downs. Some pretty views of the lake to the right. Then came….The Leep o Doom!  Ha, Its a break in the trail, between two large boulders, and about 24 inches across. A short jump, but miss it and the penalty is severe...many feet down between the boulders. Next up, field running...very narrow deer trail through a knee high grassy field. With the sun rising over the lake, this was a really peaceful section. I was solo and feeling fast and free.

I look at my watch and Walter speaks up…”You aren’t running as fast as you’d 

hoped”. “It feels a little hard, doesn’t it?  Harder than is should?” I 

started to tell Walter, “No, it doesn’t” and push past, fight,  or ignore Walter. Then I thought for a second, “If I am battling Walter…” The sun in my face, the grass hitting my legs, the lake in front of me...I backed off...and Walter smiled, nodded his head and disappeared. 

Back on to single track mildly technical trail. I was running at a moderate effort, watching my heart rate. My goal was to run the first ¼-½ of the race in heart rate zone 4a-4b, not letting myself race in 5a until close to or after the halfway mark if I felt I could. I could feel it...I was in zone 4b early, but could always tell when i’d drift up into 5a.  I knew the effort I felt when I got there was too high to sustain likely, so I would bring it down just under 5a. It was also going to be the first really warm day in Oklahoma. We have flirted with temps up in the low 70s some, but today it would get to over 80 with sunny skies.  This took it’s toll on many, especially the 50k ers. No course records broken today. I made sure at every aid station to dump water on top of my head and down my back. I absolutely hate the heat and tend to turn into a whiny blob when I get uncomfortably hot. At mi 6-7 I started to let myself get into 5a if it felt good and it did some. I just kept featuring this line, below and I wasn't racing, too far above and I knew I wouldn’t be able to maintain, and likely drag my ass across the finish..

I was feeling really good around mi 7-11, really happy that 4b-low 5a was feeling not too uncomfortable and strong. I was making sure I was hydrating and fueling well. I drank water from my handheld and took in a gel every 20-30 or so minutes, and eventually some cola toward the end of the race. I sipped consistently from my handheld of water and never felt bonky. Miles 11-15 were harder and more uncomfortable.  I didn’t feel as strong, but strong enough to push. I liked this sense. Usually at this point  I am not able to push, I am too uncomfortable bordering on miserable. Not today. I had controlled myself well early and had gas in the tank.  There was no dragging.. Around mi 12, I encountered a copperhead...poisonous sneaky snake. Fortunately, I was alerted by other runners or it would’ve been an even closer encounter! Those suckers are so hard to see, they match the dirt and leaves perfectly. Welcome to spring/summer trail running in Oklahoma. That did perk me up a bit! I was able to run it in to the finish feeling strong and appropriately spent. I finished first female and seventh overall. I had promised my daughter I would eat one of her aid station creations and here it is. It was sooooo hard for me to choke that down! Just looking at cookies or m&ms on a aid station table is often enough to turn my stomach upside down. I got it down...and kept it down as she proudly watched! Blech! My son on the other hand had decided to plant himself in a cedar tree at the finish line….a choice he would soon regret as he itched, scratched, and sneezed the whole way home!

I always wonder what's a runner to do when it comes to days when you can't run.

Say, you are on a training plan and you're set to run 30 miles next Sunday. You can't make it because your employer is sending you at the last minute to visit a customer across the country. You'll be in flying all week end long.

What do you do? Do you push this missing day to the following Sunday? Do you just ignore it and move on to the next run?

As I got more experienced, I have experimented both ways either by NOT making up for a "lost" day and making up for it. It seems that the latter is actually more detrimental in terms of fatigue.

What do you do?

Have to share my new favorite place to run. It sucks actually...in a really awesome way! I've posted a few pics in the past. It's the World's Highest Hill, Poteau Oklahoma. I have a good friend who lives at the base of Cavanall hill. He has etched trails all over the hill.

Some are brutally steep and technical. I usually start in Josh's back yard. There is also a paved road that climbs 5 miles from the base to the top. Yesterday I took the lateral trails, rolling trails that run back and forth near the base for about 45 minutes before taking the very steep and very technical 1 mile trail climb, with a whopping 1 switchback to the road. This one mile climb, it is sorta...kinda..not really runnable?! Josh can run it, I can run it...very slowly and with high heart rate with a huge hand-on-knees recovery as soon as I hit the pavement.

Then the next 2-3 ish miles are up the paved road to the top.  It's hard to look up when running this section as it is kinda defeating to see what lies ahead at times. with about 1/2-1mile left to go you see this...Josh's contribution...there should be another painted phrase just up from that that says, "dig deeper!"

It is so steep right here and after 4 miles of climbing one of the toughest spots.  You top out and the wind is usually pretty wild.  Here is where I usually take a breather and eat some pocket fuel...here is where I feel like I can actually eat solid food, and it's a nice treat for the effort. Next I like to hit the powerline instead of going back down the road. There's more trails off the powerline that I can access. It is a wicked little powerline though...very steep, sandy, rutted out, slickery fun in a scary sorta way. I typically move very slowly down this sucker. About a half mile down I cut over onto more rolling trail to recover and hit another really wicked..no switchback, technical straight up trail back to the top.

Then it's 3 miles down the pavement back to ole Joshes etched out 1 mile technical descent to his back yard....which has a swimming pool I hope will be opening soon!! Sunday's run was to be easier effort and it was nice to slow down and grab some awesome pics, spring has sprung in Oklahoma!