Turtles, stampeding through peanut butter...

So I’m following the Jeff Galloway runDisney Princess Half Marathon Training Program (http://www.rundisney.com/training/) and crossing off each day as I do it. (I mean it, the first thing I do after a run is go straight to the refrigerator and cross of that day’s training assignment with a big fat pink Sharpie.  Making that big pink “X’ is the best part of my running days.)  But I’m sore and still awfully slow and feeling sorry for myself.  

Okay, maybe I run slightly faster than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter, but only slightly.  I’ve been running to Pandora’s Pop and Hip Hop Power Workout station and Sweet Lord they play an awful lot of Pitbull.  Also, there is the very delicate process in opening the apps on my phone required for my runs.  First Pandora, then Nike Run+ to track my mileage and time and then Two Timer, which is an app that allows you to build in walk breaks to your running time.  (Yes, I’m “fudging” a bit about how much I’m actually running, but more on that in a minute.)  When the third Pitbull song in a row comes on, I can’t just hit the “next” button because it messes up the Two Timer app and then I have to navigate over to that one to fix it.  (Imagine the Napoleon Dynamite “Gosh” right here. And yes, I am fully aware that this is a perfect example of a first world problem.)

Jeff Galloway is a proponent of the run/walk combination in completing long distance races.  You set a specific time to run, followed by a shorter time to walk.  You’ll switch back and forth between running and walking throughout your workout.  The purpose of this is to “rest” yourself before you completely deplete yourself.  Galloway has found that this actually results in faster overall times in marathons and half marathons for many runners.  I run for four minutes and walk for one and the Two Timer app keeps up with where I am and beeps when it is time to transition from one to the other. 

So the whole running thing has been really annoying, and I’d like to quit, but I really don’t want to quit, and I’ve put so much effort into this already it would be a shame to quit, but I am really annoyed by it, but I miss it when I don’t do it, but there’s way to much Pitbull.

Then I hear about Maickel Melamed.  He’s a thirty eight year old man from Caracas, Venezuela who has muscular dystrophy.  Last weekend he completed the Chicago marathon in 16 hours and 46 minutes.  He was the last finisher, and his message to people is “If you dream it, make it happen.”  And the amazing thing is that this is his THIRD marathon.  He has also finished races in Berlin and New York City.

Okay, I'm back on track now.

Zen and the Knuckleball. (And what does this have to do with running a half marathon?)

I didn't grow up with baseball.  My brother played and my dad coached for a few years, but we didn't follow a particular MLB team.  Our big sports tradition occurred each fall listening to John Ward broadcast Tennessee football games on the radio.

When trying to come up with a name for our firstborn son, Bart and I decided on "Aaron" as his middle name in honor of Bart's childhood hero, true home run king and outstanding human being Hank Aaron.  Little did I know just how much our family would embrace this sport, although Jay's first word ("ball") should have given me a clue.

Jay gravitated towards Chipper Jones as his sports idol and while I won't argue with Chipper's on-field performance, he doesn't quite provide what I'm looking for as an away-from-baseball role model for my sons.  (Mr. Jones is a nice guy and appears to be a good dad.  But he seems to have the off the field emotional maturity of an adolescent boy.  And I don't mean that as an insult, but when your own 10 year old is struggling with the emotional maturity of an adolescent boy, you want to shield him from idolizing men who still seem to struggle with it.)

We were at an end of season baseball party for Will's team at UT's Lindsey Nelson stadium when I noticed RA Dickey's name on the wall of honor as a three time academic All-American.  This was in the spring of 2012 as Dickey was starting to get a lot of media attention for his pitching, his memoir, and for putting his major league contract with the Mets at risk to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in order to raise money and awareness to fight the sex trafficking of young women in India.  Smart and compassionate former Volunteer who was a professed Christian, Star Wars fan and pitcher of note?  We could work with this!

But he was famous for throwing a knuckleball, a pitch many consider simply a novelty or trick.  Aspiring pitchers (including the one in my family) want to throw hard and fast, they don't want to rely on a "gimmick" like the knuckleball.  But I like to encourage thinking outside the box, so I learned more about the knuckleball and those who have "mastered" it.

To a batter, a knuckleball looks like it should be pretty easy to hit.  It is much slower than a standard pitch so hitters think they have time to swing hard and crush the ball.  But a well thrown knuckleball has no spin, which makes it look like it is "floating" or hovering up and down as it approaches the plate.  You'll often see hitters smile or laugh as they strike out because each pitch looked so hittable until it wasn't.  

The interesting thing about throwing a knuckleball is that once you become proficient at the mechanics of the pitch you have to surrender to it.  The more a pitcher tries to "control" a knuckleball, the more hittable it becomes.  And sometimes, even when a pitcher is doing everything right he may still give up a lot of hits.  Fans, and sometimes even coaches and managers, love the knuckleball when it works but are quick to dismiss it as soon as a pitcher gives up a few hits.  Those who understand the knuckleball tell you that you just have to ride out the bad times and wait patiently for it to get better.  It provides such a great template for running, as well as for life.  Master the mechanics, understand that there will be peaks and valleys and be prepared to ride them out. 

It is interesting that the first ten minutes of a run are excruciating and I am always so tempted to quit.  The first ten minutes should be the easiest, right?  I’m rested and haven’t started sweating yet, the hills don’t come until later on in the run.  But if I ride out that initial physical discomfort and mental frustration, I am rewarded later on (usually after the first or second hill) with both my body and mind relaxing and starting to enjoy the run.  I won’t call it a “runner’s high” because it isn’t a euphoric feeling, it's more a place of contentment.  The feeling lasts longer on some runs than others but I can always count on it to be there for some of the run.

Finished the first official week of half marathon training and am very excited to see what happens in the coming weeks.  Still a little bit sore, but it is a happy sore, one I feel like I've earned.

If you ain't first you're last. That makes no sense at all!

As of yesterday, I am officially training for the Disney Princess Half Marathon.  Still not fast enough, and a little bit sore after my first thirty minute training run, but as Lao Tzu supposedly said, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” 

Or, to borrow from Butch Jones, I’m gonna build this program brick by sparkly, princessy brick.

It’s a relief to have a specific program to follow rather than having to motivate myself to run just for the sake of running.  I’m not a very entrepreneurial person (at least that’s what I always list as a weakness on performance reviews) but tell me something that needs to get done and it will be done.

We’re not all cut out to be leaders, and it took me a long time to come to peace with that.  I felt that as a fairly intelligent and ambitious person, I should seek out leadership roles.  But I don’t like “leading” people.  And I really don’t like “disciplining” people (unless I gave birth to them).  But “fairly intelligent” and “ambitious” don’t always equal “leader.”  Also, if everybody leads, then who follows?

In my very first post I wrote about coming in last place in a race my friend Becky “ran” (aka walked).  I’m so thankful that we were able to laugh about it, particularly when the really old lady passed us with about half a mile to go.  Oh, and also when the police car followed us the last quarter mile or so when we were obviously the only ones still on the course.  I'm not afraid of coming in last because I've already done so, and it wasn't the worst thing in the world.  We even laugh about it.

How many people don’t even run in the race because they are terrified of coming in last? 

Of course, later on in the movie Reese Bobby tells his grown son:

“Hell, Ricky, I was high when I said that!  That makes no sense at all!"

When first told about my half marathon goal, Jay immediately suggested that I could win the race and seemed a little disappointed in my settling for simply finishing.  I adore his optimism, it has encouraged (and will continue to encourage) me for the next few months.  But finishing is enough.  

Not Pinterested

It may be obvious by my lack of posting, I’m sort of at a crossroads with the half marathon training.  School and sports started for the boys which threw off my training schedule.  And it was still pretty hot and humid, not a very fun time to run.  Of course the past few days have been really nice when it comes to weather, but has that inspired me to lace up my shoes and hit the road?  No.   I’m back to battling with the voices, particularly the ones who tell me than I’m not a real runner and that this is all a waste of time.  I’ve looked at some running blogs and the Pinterest Health and Fitness section for inspiration, but everything makes feel worse rather than better.  I don’t look like any of those people that I see.  (Granted, a lot of those Pinterest posts don’t look like real people either.) 

It is going to take a lot of “Just One More’s” to get my abs and arms to look like this, so I like to head over to the Humor section and pin lots of snarky e-cards about working out.  

I’ve felt this way for a while but have hesitated writing about it because I know how whiney it sounds.  The part of me who was so drawn to Louis Zamperini’s story in Unbroken says “Quit complaining and get on with it.  Zamperini would have considered himself lucky to have the problems you have!”  Or “You’re trying to run a race in a tutu, not rebuild houses in Haiti.”

But I still feel like a bit of a fraud.  Running was supposed to be the magic cure for body issues and weight and it hasn’t been.  Just like Weight Watchers wasn’t, and Marianne Williamson’s “A Course In Weight Loss” wasn’t.  Oddly enough, the only thing that ever really magically worked on body image and weight was pregnancy.  I was so nauseous during both my pregnancies that I couldn’t tolerate emotional eating, and for once (twice, actually) my size didn’t really bother me.  

If someone else complained this much to me about preparing for this race I would exasperatedly tell them just to give it up.  But I can't.  Because even though I'm averaging about one run a week, it still feels pretty good.  In January I would run once a week and it would take me two or three days to physically recover.  Not anymore.  Even though I've lost very little weight, my body has somehow adapted to running.

And, as anyone who has asked me about my training will tell you, the official runDisney training program for the Princess Half Marathon on February 23, 2014 starts on October 1.  I still think I can do this.  So I'm at a crossroads, and I'm going to chose the path that leads to awesome!

Kid President Pep Talk

You've probably seen the Kid President Pep Talk several times, but to me it never gets old.  The Princess Half Marathon is going to be my Space Jam!

There Is Work To Be Done. (But still I run.)

The Pembertons did their first family 5K this weekend, participating in Knoxville’s Color Me Rad race.  I say “participating” because unfortunately, there wasn’t as much running as I hoped there would be.  But I learned some important lessons:

• My half marathon quest really has to be my own because Bart is very tall and has long legs and therefore goes faster than I did even though I’ve been running since January and he started a couple of weeks ago.  

• Will lost his mind, complaining every step of the 5 kilometers, only to announce later on in the car that he “really had fun and can’t wait to do it again!”  

• Sweet, helpful Jay needs to stop being so sweet and helpful because it is getting on my last nerve.  He’s trying to get me to run faster, and is having some success because I am trying so desperately to get away from him.  (There's a difference between running to first base and running 13.1 miles, amirite?  Please don't say anything about this to him, it isn't his fault he's got such an ungrateful mother.)

I was passed by a lady running in some sort of jelly shoe-Croc hybrid, a guy in fleece pajamas (in mid-August!!), and a dude in a unicorn mask.  That was disheartening and I really hoped none of them could walk the next day.  But Becky and I were not the last ones to finish.  That was good.  (Although I have to be truthful here, Becky started in the wave behind me and passed me just before the halfway point in the race.  It may have been the thirdway point, but Becky wasn’t holding hands with a cranky six year old at the time so I’m going with my original assessment of where we were on the course.)

We weren't last!  

Headphones and music are probably going to be a must have for the Princess Half Marathon.  Becky had her headphones and music, and as she noted in our post game analysis at Cracker Barrel: “Between songs I could hear myself gasping for breath and I got scared ‘til another song started.”  Also, I need to do more cardio on my non running days and probably less post game analysis at Cracker Barrel.  And maybe try another 5K on a day where the humidity wasn’t way up there in the 90s at 8:00 in the morning.  (Hmmmm, I think I see aspects of Will’s personality in my own.  And I wondered where he got that!)

But the nice thing about Color Me Rad is that it is all about the fun of running.  I don’t even think they declare winners, and they don’t have a time clock.  People of all shapes and sizes were walking and running and having fun.  It was an incredibly supportive environment.  And even though I can see the amount of work that needs to be done between now and February 24, 2014, it still seems like it is possible. 

We have a favorite “get fired up” piece of music in our family for when we need a little audio inspiration.  Titled Awesome, it is a mash up of songs including the Zulu chant from “The Circle of Life” in the Lion King, Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” Fort Minor’s “Remember The Name,” Kanye West’s “Jesus Walks”, and Leo Arnaud’s “Bugler’s Dream” (also known as the Olympic Theme).  There’s a line from “Remember The Name” that is repeated over and over:  It’s 10% luck, 20% skill, 15% concentrated power of will, 5% pleasure, 50% pain and 100% reason to remember the name.  That will be my mantra as I work towards next February.

Here's a link for the song:  Awesome

Just tell me that doesn't make you think you can do anything you set your mind to!

Lucky number seven?

I’ve been reading Jen Hatmaker’s book Seven.  I’ve spent 30 minutes sitting here trying to figure out how to summarize it, so I’m just going to post the description of the book from her website: 

• 7 is the true story of how Jen took seven months, identified seven areas of excess, and made seven simple choices to fight back against the modern-day diseases of greed, materialism, and overindulgence.

Essentially she focuses on seven things each month for seven months.  The first month she limited herself to seven foods, the second month she only wore seven pieces of clothing, the third month she decides to give seven things away each day, etc.  This book really has me thinking about how our family lives.

On one hand, I’d like to congratulate us on buying used cars and driving them ‘til the wheels fall off, mowing our own grass and having very little credit card debt, but then I’m confronted with how much spoiled food we throw away each week, the staggering number of pairs of black shoes I own, and the piles of toys we end up picking up every evening before bed.  Maybe that’s why I love watching “the Real Housewives” of wherever, because I can comfort myself with the knowledge that at least I’m not THAT materialistic and indulgent.

Seven has also caused me to question my motives for the half marathon goal.  There are races closer to home that would be more budget friendly.  (I mean, if you’re going all the way to Disney World to run a race you might as well stay a few extra days to visit the parks.)  Also, did I really need the expensive (and more importantly CUTE) earphones and shoes?  Was it necessary to download $20 of music from iTunes to motivate me to run?  Thankfully (I guess) I’m too fat for really cute workout clothes because that would definitely be another thing I MUST HAVE in order to achieve my goal.  Actually the “too fat for cute workout clothes” is the reason I splurged on the really cute earphones.  And it’s the reason I have a bunch of adorable baseball caps that I have since learned I can’t wear when running because they make me sweat twice as much as normal, which is a lot.

I spend a lot of time on this we’re so poor/we’re so blessed fence.  (I spend a lot of time on metaphorical fences.  See my “Coke is the elixir of Satan/not a big deal” debate in the previous post if you need to be convinced.)  And I’ve come to the realization that it is because I am physically blessed yet spiritually poor.  There’s not really anything we can’t (or don’t) buy for ourselves.  We have a hard time when asked for gift suggestions for ourselves at Christmas and birthdays because there isn’t much out there that we (or our kids) don’t already have.  But I’m pretty sure we bought all those things thinking that they would make up for what was lacking spiritually.

Let me veer off a bit to define what I mean by spiritually poor.  I have struggled with the parable of the prodigal son for years, always identifying with the brother who stayed and worked with his father while his sibling was off having a grand old time spending his inheritance on hookers and blow.  (Sorry, “hookers and blow” is my new favorite go-to phrase for summing up overindulgence.  Just got a raise at work?  Let’s go spend it on hookers and blow.  Need a theme for your 40th birthday party?  How about "hookers and blow?")

Back to the prodigal son.  As I said above, there was always a simmering resentment of the younger son, feeling bad for the one who got up early and fed the pigs, planted the wheat, went to temple whenever he was supposed to, even when it was raining and his sandals got wet and caked with mud.  It is only very recently that I’ve realized the reason I identify so much with the older son is that he is spiritually poor like me.  We both think we can earn the love of our father by what we do.  But the point, I think I’ve finally realized, of the parable of the prodigal son is that being a child of God means that he loves all of us however we are, that we’re enough.  For the first time I’m beginning to understand that I am enough.

But, as UT football coach Butch Jones frequently says, “It’s a process” and I would currently put myself at “spiritually working-poor.”  There’s a point in Seven where Jen Hatmaker talks about donating a large part of her really nice but no longer needed wardrobe to a domestic violence shelter.  She says that she’s praying for the recipients of her clothes, that they will make those feel special and worthy until they heal enough to know that they are special and worthy.  Now, I don’t equate my body image struggle with that of a victim of domestic violence, but I do think that choosing the Disney Princess Half Marathon was my way of pretending to be special and worthy.  Interestingly, each training run helps me realize that I’m actually getting closer to knowing for sure that I’m worthy.

So I’m not going to regret choosing the Disney Princess Half Marathon.  The entrance fee has been paid, and plans are in place.  And I honestly don’t know that any other race would have motivated me to get off my butt and start running.  But I don’t expect this “journey to worthiness” to end on February 24, 2014.  (Although it may take a day off to recover in a hot tub.)

Making Peace With My Coke Addiction

How's that for an attention grabbing headline?  But the "coke addiction" I'm talking about involves good old Coca Cola, created in Atlanta by pharmacist John Pemberton, who unfortunately for me isn't an ancestor.  The decision-making involved in consuming this product is indicative of pretty much my entire relationship with food.  I don't drink a whole lot of it, my daily consumption so between 12 and 20 ounces.  One can or bottle each day.  The rest of the time I drink straight water or Crystal Light flavored water.  (The non-alcoholic Appletini is a particular favorite, although I once had to explain to a babysitter just what my five year old meant when he asked for an Appletini with breakfast.)

So I spend a lot of mental energy deciding whether or not to drink 12 to 20 ounces of soda a day.  And I spend a lot more mental energy justifying and then shaming myself for the decision I made.  "Soda is bad and you should eliminate it from your diet" versus "everything in moderation" countered with "is one soda a day really considered moderation" followed by "it's just a freaking DRINK!"  Then I drink it down really quickly figuring that the sooner I get it in, the sooner I can work it off.

I do give up soda for Lent and somehow survive.  It isn't pleasant, but it really does serve as a very good spiritual exercise.  We live in a society where we rarely deny ourselves anything, it is very meaningful to deny yourself something you enjoy while contemplating Jesus fasting in the desert preparing for what was to come.  Of course, during that forty day period (that is actually forty six days) I mull over why I'm willing to give up soda for Lent but not for good.

This may be related to something from my childhood.  Around my third birthday I somehow decided that I would only eat peanut butter sandwiches.  This was obviously a big deal to my mom, after a period of time she took me to the pediatrician who diagnosed it as a “phase” and prescribed "waiting it out."  She tried his suggestion, but I was very committed to my peanut butter sandwich cause.  

We battled over this for three years.  She would make dinner and would tell me that I couldn't leave the table until I'd tried it.  Initially I was very good at secreting a bite into my napkin, then slipping it to our dog.  That plot was foiled pretty quickly, so I branched out to excusing myself to go to the bathroom and flushing whatever was offered.  A few times she sat at the table, not ever taking her eyes off me, to make sure I would take just one bite of something innocuous like a hamburger (or less innocuous like salmon croquettes.)  She'd say I couldn't go to bed until I'd tasted everything on my plate.  I would wait her out until she gave in and ordered me to bed.  (This is why I avoid ultimatums with my own kids, because it would be time to reap what I've sown.)

Now we're not talking about a preference for peanut butter sandwiches.  Other than eggs and bacon or cereal for breakfast and fruit, peanut butter sandwiches were the only food I ate (I also drank a lot of milk.)  During this time my sweet mom would slip a sandwich wrapped in foil or plastic wrap to take to nice restaurants, fast food places, neighbors’ houses, anywhere we went.

So I have some obvious “issues” with food that go way back that interestingly mirror my “issues” with body image and self-worth.  It’s those damn negative voices that never shut up.  But the thing about the voices related to food is that they make good points.  “Why bother fat girl?” is obviously a voice that has bad intentions.  But “soda is bad for you” and “everything in moderation” and “is one soda a day really moderation” and “but it is just a drink” are all valid statements even though they are on opposite sides of the soda argument.

Hollywood thinness is not my goal, and too many good memories have food as a component of them for me to completely give up things like dessert.  Interestingly, ideally I'd like to eat the way I do when on vacation or out with friends, aka, when I am relaxed.  I eat what I want, but the stresses are gone.  At times like that I really enjoy eating, rather than using food as a tool to silence those voices.  I can savor a Coke or chocolate cake, rather than getting it over with so I can work off the calories.  Science tells us that we have to expend more calories than we consume to lose weight, but I don’t think we can discount the emotions behind those calories.  When relaxed, I naturally make better food choices.

I’ve told several people that the blog writing keeps me running and the running keeps me writing.  During the past couple of weeks I’ve let both of those slide and have really missed it.  Glad to be back on track!