The worst part

I ran 15 miles this morning in less than 3 hours, which is respectable. I burned more than 1,100 calories, according to my Garmin, which is awesome.

I don't find running long distances that difficult. I'm not a speed demon, obviously, but the idea of running 15 or 20 miles isn't daunting to me, nor is the actual act of running hard. For whatever reason, my body is built for distance, and the fact that I'm stubborn times a million doesn't hurt.

But the part I absolutely HATE about running long distances?

Stopping.

That's when the aches and pains really start.

After I ran the Houston half-marathon in 2007, I hobbled from the finish line inside to get my finisher t-shirt. The volunteer reminded me that there was a free meal, and pointed to a far corner of the convention center where there was a line.

I decided to hobble to my car, instead.

I'm sure the aches and pains are there during the run. I'm just so zoned out or focused in that I don't feel them. But when I stop, well, that's ALL I feel.

---

I've been looking forward to my runs these past few weeks because I found new music.

My new singing boyfriend (as opposed to my advertising boyfriend Don Draper from Mad Men, my vampire boyfriend Eric Northman from True Blood, and my Food Network boyfriend Aaron Sanchez) is Matt Nathanson. He had a hit a few years ago with "Come On Get Higher," but mainly he just makes and plays music he likes.

I bought a couple of singles at first, then his latest album, then his album before that, and then an earlier album still. I haven't been disappointed yet.

---

And finally, to ESPN: I am incensed about your newest online venture, espnW, which you bill as an online destination for women sports fans and athletes.

Really? This is 2011 and you think THIS is a good idea?

Why can't women athletes who are accomplished get coverage on your main page? Why can women who are interested in sports read your main page? Why are you separating us?

I was one of the first subscribers to your magazine and I subscribe to it still. I listen regularly to your talk radio. I watch your TV channels. I visit your Web site.

No more. No more. If I and my gender aren't good enough to grace your regular pages, then I sure as shit am not going to give you my money, my attention, my numbers.

Two-a-days

I'm going to start running twice a day most days, starting today. I want to run farther and more, but this old body can't manage getting up earlier than 4 a.m.

So up at 4 a.m., 6 or 8 miles (depending), then another 4 to 6 in the evenings, depending.

And, of course, my long runs on the weekends. I live for those.

Vents, I have a couple...

1. Mosquitoes are out in full force. Damn rain. I hate because I hate it, and then I hate it because it always brings mosquitoes. And they always seem to bite me in the back, right above my sports bra where I can't reach. UGH.

2. Dear Restaurants of the World: I'm not quite sure where you got the idea, but sticking a portobello mushroom cap on two pieces of bread and calling it good does not a vegetarian menu make. I understand that we're the minority, and I totally accept that. It's my choice not to eat meat and I own that.

But I HATE portobello mushrooms. Give me a choice. How about a slice of avocado? Or tomato? When I make myself a sandwich at home, those are the two things I use in place of meat. Portobellos are mushy and yucky.

---

I've run and will run every day this week, since I took Sunday off. And today, I'm back at the trainer.

Time to get serious.

I just got back from wonderful weekend. I went on a girlie trip to Fredericksburg, to tour some Texas wineries and do some wine tastings.

It was lots of fun, full of wine and food and other indulgences.

But now...it's time to get down to brass tacks. I've allowed myself to get kind of off-track here and there during the summer, but for all intents and purposes, most of the activity is over. School starts in less than a month, and the marathon is 4.5 months away.

I did run one day while I was gone -- just 3 miles around the B&B where we stayed. Running in the Hill Country is totally different than running in pea-soup Southeast Texas, I swear.

I didn't run yesterday because I was coming home, but today, like always, I got up and ran, six miles.

Yes I am...no I'm not...YES, I AM

The alarm went off at 4:15 this morning, and I pulled back the covers and got up, knees, hips and ankles creaking.

I hobbled down to the bathroom, washed my face, and thought, "Nah. I'm not going to run today."

I haven't taken an off day this week; I'm going out of town for the weekend and while I have plans to run on Saturday (not a long one, but a run nevertheless), I don't know if I actually will.

But this morning, in the bathroom, I told myself that I would run on Saturday, and that I needed the day off.

I left the bathroom and headed back to our bedroom, only to turn around, get dressed and go run.

Best decision I'll make all day long, I bet.

A little extra.

So I whined about not being about to finish my run yesterday because of the lightning.

So when I got home from work, I ran again! I got in three more for a total of eight yesterday. (Take THAT, Jason!)

I run faster when I run during the day because I can see my Garmin and tell what my pace is. I ran my three miles in 25 minutes yesterday, which isn't too shabby.

Back in the day, I would run five miles in the a.m., and two or three miles at my lunch hour at work, then walk a few miles after the kids went to bed in the evening.

It's too hot to run during my lunch hour right now, but I'm hoping to get back to that in September/October.

The marathon is only 4.5 months away.

(No lightning this morning -- I ran six!)

Fear #275

In the months before Russ and I married in March 1995, I made the de rigueur visit to Dillard's to register for our China (note to brides-to-be: I registered and received 8 place settings of China that I have never ever, never ever, never ever used...).

It was a Saturday and they were busy, so I took a seat next to another bride-to-be, and we started a conversation. We talked about our grooms-to-be, how we met, the stress of planning a wedding, etc. She and her fiance were getting married the same weekend as Russ and me. It was a nice way to spend a fairly lengthy wait.

Fast-forward to May 1995, we ran a brief story in the newspaper about a man who had been mowing his lawn and died after being struck by lightning. I read it and moved on.

Then the next day, I read the obituary -- it was the husband of that bride.

That incident, which took place almost 17 years ago, instilled in me a healthy fear of lightning. Not that I ever was going to go outside in a severe storm, holding a stick of metal of anything, but until that happened, I didn't really think about lightning.

(Side note, while I"m thinking about it: Don't say "electrocuted to death." Electrocution by its very definition means "death by electric shock." Thank you.)

It was lightning this morning when I headed out for my run.

So I ditched the iPod.

And I ran like hell. I guess I thought if I finished my run in less time, then I wouldn't get struck by lightning. I guess I thought I could outrun it.

I told myself I had to do two miles. So I did that. Then I told myself I had to do two more. I had convinced myself that it would be OK to run my full six miles when the lightning got a little too close.

So I did five and called it a morning. I plan on going back out tonight and running three or so more.

4 a.m.>2 p.m.

I didn't run yesterday morning. In an attempt to shake things up (and get a little more sleep), I ran in the afternoon, at the park.

OMG. It was so flipping HOT I thought I was going to pass out. I ran a couple of miles, stopped for a water break and then went two more.

UGH.

So 4 a.m. today felt MUCH better, even though it was still humid.

And early.

Running and raining

THIS is precisely why I detest taking a rest day.

I want to run six days a week. So I take a rest day on a Wednesday or a Thursday or a Sunday, and then what do I do if it freaking rains on a running day?

Well, I did what I did today -- I ran.

I had my alarm set for 5 a.m., planning to run either 12 or 15 miles, depending on how I felt when I woke up. I got up at 3 to go to the bathroom, and it was thundering. I kept my alarm on, knowing how these mid-summer showers work.

Five a.m., I got dressed, opened the door and...RAIN. And thunder and lightning. So I pulled my clothes off and went back to bed, setting my alarm for 6:30.

At 6:30, it had stopped so I went to run, cutting it to just 10 miles because of time. It rained off and on the entire time I was running. It would stop and I'd start to dry out only to have it start again.

But I wasn't going to stop running. No way in hell.

Good things about running in the rain: Cooler, sensational -- and by that, I mean, your skin tingles with every rain drop -- and did I say, cooler, and I love running through puddles of water.

Bad things about running in the rain: I had to ditch the iPod in the mailbox. I wasn't wearing my SmartWool socks, so I was sloshing inside my shoes. Everything was wet: my hands, my face, my legs, my stomach, everything. And raindrops on my eyelashes bothers the hell out of me.

But I did it. I ran in the rain. And I'll do again tomorrow if I have to.

Just wild about Harry...and running, of course!

Ten years ago this month, I was pregnant: large, hot and miserable. Oh, and I had a 2-year-old son to boot.

I decided to pick up this Harry Potter series I had heard so much about. There were three books out so far (I think) and kids were going insane over them. I figured that at some point my toddler and the new baby would want to read them, so maybe I should take a look at them first.

I was hooked. I sped through the ones available and then was upset because I had to wait so long for the next one.

Last night, my now-12-year-old son and I went to the midnight showing of the last Harry Potter movie. I was a bit nervous about the whole thing, I'll admit. Crowds of people make me nervous, and I haven't stayed up past midnight in a while. But I'll do just about anything for my boy, so midnight it was.

We had an absolute blast. We got to the theater around 9:30 p.m., got some popcorn, drinks, and settled down in line to wait. Yeah, we sat down on the impossibly dirty theater lobby floor. Yes, we tossed popcorn back and forth to see who could catch in his or her mouth. We each drank a bucket of our beverage of choice. We took pictures of each other with my cell phone and my camera, hands holding up our bangs so our lightning-bolt scars were visible.

We talked about our favorite books and which movie we liked the best. We made up disgusting names for the movies ("Harry Pooter and the Deathly Farts, Part Toot: The Farting" was our best effort; "Harry Pooter and the Goblet of Farts" was second.). I got Kyle to pick who was hotter, Ginny Weasley or Hermione (he picked Hermione). He tried to get me to pick between Harry and Ron (I picked Neville Longbottom; have you seen the pictures of him at the premieres???).

We practiced our home run calls for when we become the first mother-son anchor team on SportsCenter (it could happen!). We perfected our art of fake fighting.

We got the perfect seats for the movie. We whispered back and forth (mainly me) with questions. We both were grossed out by the same thing (won't spoil it for you).

We left the theater at 2:15 a.m. with huge smiles on our faces. Kyle held my hand without rolling his eyes while we crossed the parking lot. We talked about the movie all the way home.

And once we got home, Kyle did his bedtime routine and then hunted me down in the laundry room.

"Mom, I had such a good time. Thank you for taking me," he said, with a hug that left me breathless (when did that 2-year-old get to be so strong?).

It was worth it. Worth it, worth it, worth it. It always is, for the two of them.

---

So I got into bed around 2:45 a.m. I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m.

And I woke up at 5:20 a.m. I didn't give myself a chance. I got right out of bed, put on my running clothes and off I went. Six miles.

I had to do it. I couldn't let myself make any excuses. I couldn't let myself talk me out of it.

I had to do it.

Rut.

I'm in one. Gotta get myself out. I'm still running, but not with my usual joy.

I think that may be the worst thing about running. I am going to run a marathon in December. But, it's in December, which is still quite a ways away. So it doesn't feel urgent. But I can't stop running now, or I won't be able to run the marathon.

Just getting to the marathon is a marathon!

The other thing is that my doctor has told me not to lose any more weight. He has given me a number that is my low, and has told me not to go beyond that. I agree with him; if I lose more weight, I'll be in little girls' sizes and that is not cool.

But I've already dipped below that a couple of times in the past few months, luckily in between visits, but still...the more I run, the more weight I'm going to lose. I'm eating, but I'm not eating massive amounts of anything.

Obviously I have lots of things going on. My run this morning was good -- didn't feel like a chore, I actually woke up before my alarm went off. I've downloaded some new music and that helped, too.

I'm hoping that the rut I'm in is just a phase, and now that things are slowing down for us (vacation over, birthdays over, etc.) I can relax and just run.

A different kind of race...

Twelve years ago today, I was in the hospital, getting ready to give birth to my first child.

I was induced due to blood pressure issues. I was terrified. But I did it.

For weeks after his birth, Russ and I would spend hours hanging over the bassinet, watching Kyle sleep. We were so damned proud of what we had done. "Look at his ear!" I'd say. "I know," Russ would respond, "but look at those toes!"

You would have thought we were the first people in the universe to make a baby.

I think Kyle Bryant Miller is the most exquisite, smartest, most awesome boy in the world. He just is.

We are still so damned proud of that child. We're not fawning over his ears or his toes anymore, but when he does the right thing, when he brings home good grades, when he asks a thoughtful question, when he gives me a hug for no reason, my heart soars.

---

There's a difference between "can't" and "don't want to."

I hear a lot of people say that they "can't" run or they "can't" commit to a vegetarian diet.

Unless you have no legs or unless your doctor has told you specifically to eat all the meat you can, you're just wrong.

You don't want to run. You don't want to give up meat.

And that's perfectly fine. But admit it to yourself. It's not that you can't; it's that you're unwilling to make these changes to enhance your life.

Admit it.

Save a life...go for a run!

Yesterday's run wasn't nearly long enough or nearly satisfying enough. I got a late start and only got in 5.5 miles before thunder and lightning started.

I was not happy about that.

Then we had Kyle's birthday party yesterday and let him have some friends spend the night afterward.

Yeah.

Five 12-year-old boys plus one overly excited dog equals two, maybe three hours of sleep for me.

I slept on the couch last night because our bedroom is right across the hallway from Kyle's and that's where the boys were headquartered.

It didn't help.

So when I got up at 5:45 a.m. to tell them that they really needed to settle down and get some sleep (these same boys also spent four hours that afternoon swimming and diving and being rowdy so I know they had to be tired -- HAD TO BE), I decided that I should go ahead and run.

I know I'm going to be a slight crankypants today because I didn't get a lot of sleep. If I had compounded that with not running, then that would be double crankypants.

And trust me, no one wants double crankypants. NO ONE. Double crankypants usually ends up with tears, screaming and at worst, death.

So, I ran eight miles and when I got back in, everyone had calmed down and was sleeping.

(I will get a nap in later.)

Running.

If nothing else, taking a day off from running makes me appreciate it all the more when I get back to it.

I ran this morning, just six miles (I have the trainer today, so I don't want to be tired when I get there). It felt great. I had new headphones, it wasn't too hot at 4:30 a.m., and I just ran!

---

Twelve years ago today, I was in the hospital. I was pregnant with our first child, and 12 days away from my official due date. I went to the doctor for a regular check-up, and bingo! I was in the hospital, hooked up to 6,000 monitors with the possibility of having my baby THAT NIGHT.

The culprit? High blood pressure. It was the first time I'd had that happen, but it wasn't the last. In both pregnant and non-pregnant times, I would go on to have BP issues.

But no more! :-)

(I didn't have Kyle that night. The doctor sent me home after a few hours and told me to come back on Monday, July 12, and we'd have that baby. So that's what I did.)

Rest.

I didn't run today.

It's hard, sitting here on the love seat, not running. But I knew it was for the best. I got really run down and exhausted and my head almost freaking exploded.

I can't let that happen again.

So I slept until a leisurely 5:30 a.m. (!), and when I got home from picking up the kids, I changed clothes and just...relaxed.

It was OK. Not something I want to get used to because...I need to RUN...but for today, it was nice.


---


I had a medical test last week, and while my doctor really didn't think anything was wrong, he felt the need to make sure. And that need made me nervous.


Everything came back just absolutely fine, and that was a big relief.


Now I can get back running and living!

Aches + pains

True confession: When I get out of bed in the morning -- whether it's at 4, 4:30 or I sleep in and it's 5:30 -- my legs are creaky.

My knees. My hips. My ankles. Everything crackles and pops. I sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies.

Once I'm out of bed, I'm basically fine, and once I'm into mile two, I don't even feel the aches or pains. I take my glucosamine, my vitamins, my calcium, and don't look back. I know runners who survive on all that plus an anti-inflammatory every morning, but I'm not there yet.

This morning, my usual aches and pains were accompanied by a headache. Just a small one, in the back of my head. So I go out, and I run and run and run. Eight miles, to be exact.

(Side note: I am very hard on headphones. There are only certain ones I like and I've gone through three pair in the past three months. I don't know if the extreme sweat shorts them out, or it it's using them every single day or what...but I'm headphoneless at this point, until I can get to buy another pair.)

Anyway, while the leg pains went away during my run, the headache did not. But I went about my business, eating breakfast, getting kids up, etc.

And went to work.

And left three hours later. My head hurt so much, I thought it might explode -- and I RELISHED the thought that it might. My head exploding would have been preferable to the pain I was in.

I went home, threw on an old t-shirt of my husband's and crashed for three hours.

Woke up, good as new!

---

I have to wonder if my headache is the result of running hard every single day. I probably should take tomorrow off, but... As a compromise, I may sleep a little later and run only three miles. Or I may not run, but walk tomorrow night. I need to exercise, but I need to take care of myself, too.

And taking care of myself may mean NOT running tomorrow. Sigh.

Did it anyway.

I did not want to run this morning. Absolutely, 100-percent DID NOT.

I had previously set my alarm for 4 a.m., the time I have to get up to get 8 miles in and then take care of all my morning stuff (shower, breakfast, COFFEE, kids, etc.). At 3:45 a.m., I woke up and changed it to 4:30 a.m., which is the time I have to get up to get 6 miles in and still do everything else.

At 4:25 a.m., I was staring at my alarm clock, not wanting to get up. Then I told myself, "Beth, you only get to sleep about an hour longer if you don't get up and run. Is it worth it?"

Nope. I am so happy I convinced myself. :-)

Free.

I ran eight miles this morning. That makes 34 for the month of July so far.

Knowing the numbers makes me feel so powerful, so strong.

So free...

Quickie

I ran this morning. For a few weeks now, Sunday has been my off day. But I felt the need to run, blah, blah, blah (kicking my brother's ass), so I did.

Up at 6, done by 6:30-ish. Just three miles. Kind of a palate-cleanser for the rest of the week. I did this way back when I was running lots before, and it was good. Kept me in the groove without totally blowing out my legs.

I'm going to swim some, too, today -- or as much as a person can with an 11-year-old, a 9-year-old, a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old in the pool. I'm looking forward to doing a little floating, taking a load off of my legs.

Well, that was interesting.

I got up at 4:30 and headed out for my morning run, planning for 12 miles.

I ended up running 15.

Yeah. I really can't explain it, except that those damn endorphins that flooded my body thought it would be a good idea.

And I think it was. Sometimes, for me, the "thinking about it" part messes up the "actually doing it" part. I overthink, overanalyze, and that can be a bad thing.

But in this case, I was approaching my tenth mile, still felt great, and just thought, "OK. I'm going for 15 today."

So I did it. No drama, no questioning, no worrying, just running. :-)

(I ran a pace of 12.4 minutes a mile, which isn't wonderful, but is acceptable. And I burned 936 calories.)

A little "friendly" competition...

So yesterday, I was pretty proud of my 201 miles for the month of June.

And then my brother posted that it was weak and he had 211 with one run still to go (and he ran 9 last night, to bring it to 220).

He shouldn't have done that.

I am possibly the most competitive person I know. The list of sports/games that my husband will no longer play with me is lengthy (tennis, Scrabble, golf, Trivial Pursuit, etc.) because my drive to win, win, win sucks the fun out of it. I am currently eviscerating my almost-12-year-old son in Words with Friends.

And trash-talking about it. (Ahem. Mother of the year, no?)

So put that together with the fact that it was my baby brother saying that my mileage was weak, and my competitiveness is in hyper-drive.


I am going to run more than he does in the month of July. I just am. My goal for July is 300 miles.


300 miles.

Take that, baby brother!