What I'm going to do in 2012

I don't do resolutions.

They're cliched. And I think they're excuses. It's like no one expects you to actually do your resolutions, so it's not a big deal when you don't.

That's not how I operate. I simply state what I'm going to do, and then I do it.

A year ago, I had reached my then-goal weight of 130 pounds. I wrote in my blog post that I was going to maintain my weight, I was going to continue running and training for both The Gusher Half and The Dallas White Rock Marathon.

So how did I do?

I've lost about 12 more pounds -- not on purpose, but when you run a lot and work out a lot and are careful with what you put in your body, then that's what happens. 

I ran The Gusher Half in a little more than two hours, which was a personal best for me.

I ran The White Rock Marathon in less than five hours, which was what I really wanted to do.

So, check, check, check. :-)

I also wrote that I needed to work on the mental aspect of my weight loss. Back then, I still saw the overweight me. I'm doing better with that. I've learned to accent what is best about my new body (legs) and camouflage what isn't (saggy stomach skin).

So, what am I going to do in 2012?

I'm going to run The Gusher Half in less than two hours. I know I can, so I'm going to.

I'm going to turn FORTY. Not much I can do about that, right?

I'm going to continue with my vegetarianism. It hasn't steered me wrong yet, and I've been doing it since late February.

I'm going to continue with my personal trainer. The weight training has really made a huge difference in my body shape.

And I'm going to run my second marathon in November 2012 in San Antonio. I'm hoping for better weather this time around. :-)

I'm also toying with doing triathalons. I'm not a strong swimmer, though. I can swim, and I can swim well in short distances, but I'm just not confident enough for longer distances. Still turning that one over in my head. I may need to take some swim lessons to learn the proper strokes, and then just practice.

We'll see about that one.

Overall, I see no reason to change what I'm doing now. I'm in the best health of my life and in the best shape of my life.

So that's what I'm going to do in 2012.

Day After.

I didn't run yesterday -- luckily, Christmas fell on Sunday, my usual rest day, this year. So I didn't have to juggle Christmas and running.

I could have and would have if I had to, though.

Since I've been off from work, and my husband has been off from work, it's been nice to run whenever and wherever I want. I ran at the park on Friday afternoon -- back in the trails where there are a few hills.

Today, I went to the Hike & Bike Trail in Beaumont at midday. Again, it's nice to get a change of scenery, to get away from distractions. In the days leading up to Christmas, when I would run in my neighborhood, I really had to make an effort to stay on task, to keep on running. Whenever I'd pass my driveway, I'd feel the pull of laundry or cleaning or present-wrapping.

If I'm not at home, though -- no thoughts of the various obligations!

(And everything mostly got done.)

---

For Christmas, I got a pair of wireless headphones from Russ and the kids (and also another charm for my Pandora bracelet).

I've chronicled here many times about my headphone problems. I don't like the tiny ear buds that come with the iPod. I can't keep them in my ears, they hurt, etc.

Also, I go through earphones like a hot knife through butter. It has to be the sweat that kills them.

My new headphones are amazing. I wore them for the first time on my run at the Hike & Bike Trail, and they fit in my ears just fine. There was no cord bouncing around, getting in my way, getting tangled in my hands. When it started raining, I put up the hood on my jacket, and didn't have to maneuver around the cord.

And according to the packaging, they are sweat-resistant.

Time will tell if that is indeed true.

---

I'm thinking about my New Year's intentions. Goals are good, right? :-)

Blah.

I was so hopeful for the Christmas holidays as good running time.

In the past, it has been -- my kids are old enough that I can leave them in the house while I run around the neighborhood, or Russ is off so I can somewhere else to run. And I don't have a lot of time-sensitive duties that I need to attend to, so I can run as long as I want. I can run twice a day if I care to!

But this week...

Monday was good. Tuesday was not -- lightning cut the run short. Wednesday was good. This morning, rain, rain, rain. And after my 26.2 miles in the rain, I wasn't anxious to get out in it.

My husband will be home early today, and if the rain has stopped, I will get out and run.

I need it.

Eleven days after...

I took a rest day this morning from running. Typically, Sundays are the only day I don't run, but I felt like I needed it this morning.

I have to remember that I ran 26.2 miles just 11 days ago. And while technically, I feel normal, it's OK to take an extra day every once in a while. I'll get to run more than normal over the next two weeks, so I'll make it up eventually.

I do have an ache on the top of my left foot. If I'm wearing shoes -- any shoes: heels, boots, tennis shoes -- it doesn't hurt. But if I'm walking around my house barefooted, it does.


The second toenail on my right foot is a goner. It was sore the day after the marathon, and while it doesn't hurt any more, it's purple, purple, purple. (Not the entire toe, but just the toenail.)

So no pedicures for me for the foreseeable future.


---

I was kind of nervous about getting back to running regularly this week. I'm not sure why. I guess maybe I thought some previously unknown health issue was going to pop up, or that I was going to ruin my legs or knees by running a week out from the marathon.

But my daily runs have been good. Reassuring. And after 26.2 miles, six miles seems like nothing.

---

I got my photos in the mail on Saturday. I was shocked to see that I am smiling as I cross the finish line. Russ says it's the smile of a crazy person, but I know the truth.

It's the smile of accomplishment and relief.

Goals.

So this morning was my last easy run. I did six miles. Monday, I'm back to my usual 6-milers in the morning, and then a long run (12-15) on Saturdays. Sundays will continue to be my day off.

While I ran this morning, I thought about hard goals for the next year. I'm the kind of person that, if I don't have solid goals, I will fall apart, completely.

So here are my goals:

1. Continue running. Well, duh. I'd be a fool to stop now.
2. Maintain my weight loss. I've been playing around with 3-4 pounds the past few months, and that's OK with me. I'm still fitting into my size 2s and 4s, so I'm good with this.
3. Keep on with the vegetarianism. Again, I've been doing this since February (March, maybe?) and it's working for me. I am healthier than I have ever been.
4. Run The Gusher Half-Marathon in March in under 2 hours. I can do this; I know I can. I can run 6 miles in under an hour. I just have to sustain that for 13.1 miles. :-)
5. Run the San Antonio Rock N Roll Marathon in 4:30. I also know I can do this. I am completely convinced that my time at last week's marathon was completely due to the rain. I ran in 30-degree weather on Thursday and was absolutely, totally A-OK.
6. Continue on with my personal trainer.

I think that's it.

---

I bought new running shoes on Thursday. My old ones had more than 500 miles on them, plus after running in the rain they were all stretched out. So I bought the same style, in a different color. I love being able to do that.

BFFs

I don't really remember when it happened, when we became friends.

She's just always been there, since kindergarten. We were in the same class, and I guess at some point, Michele and I gravitated toward each other, and that was that.

We went through our share of junior high and high school BFF drama, trust me. But when it came down to it, we've always been there for each other.

Always.

The older of her two sons has my maiden name as his middle name. My Katherine Michele...well, that should be self-explanatory.

(Side note: It is eerie how similar Katie and Michele are. Michele has always been fashion-forward, always knew what looked right together, just like Miss K. And I'm convinced that Kate's passion for art somehow came from Michele -- like I got her art essence on me just by being around her all those years, and it was transferred to Katie. Or something.)

We lost track of each other for a few years. Not out of malice or spite, but because we were damned busy. She had her second son, and I was going to grad school, working my ass off, trekking my children here and yon, dealing with Kyle's epilepsy, etc., etc., etc.

Then about a year ago, I was in HEB, buying things to make a fruit plate for Kate's class Christmas party, and I got a text from a number I didn't recognize:

"I think about you a lot and I hope you're doing well."

About the time that I hit the send button for the message, "Who is this?" I realized: It was Michele!

And off we went, just like no time had passed.

Michele met me at my hotel this past weekend in Dallas. She lives in Fort Worth, now.

We stayed up late, talking. She kept me calm when I was freaking the hell out over the weather. She took me to Eatzi's, surely heaven on earth. She got up at the ungodly hour of 3:45 a.m. on Sunday. She drove me to Fair Park, and walked all over the place looking for the right building.

(This was in the cold and rain, remember?)

She stood with me while I freaked the hell out some more. She reassured me that not only did I look cute in my running skirt/capris, but that I was the best dressed runner there.

She walked out with me to my running corral, and stood with me until almost race time.

And then, she sat in the Automobile Building for almost SIX HOURS while I ran.

(Honestly, when I thought about giving up around mile 18, one of the several reasons I didn't was because Michele had gotten up at freaking 3:45 a.m. to get my butt to the race, and I wasn't going to let her down.)

When I arrived in the friends/family reunion area, she was there. I was babbling about how I wanted to give up, but I didn't and OMG, I ran a freaking MARATHON, and she laughed and cried with me.

And then she drove me back to the hotel, helped me navigate the lobby, the elevator, the hallway (I wasn't walking that well).

And then she left me alone. I know she had things to do -- pick up her boys, things to do at home -- but also, that was the exact thing I needed -- to be left alone with my thoughts and my self -- to digest what I had just done.

I am lucky enough to have lots of friends in my life. But there is only one BFF.

Only one Michele. :-)

Back to it

Back in 2007, when I ran my first half-marathon, I rested, as you should after running long distances.

I never got back to running.

I don't know why, really. I guess it was a combination of fatigue, cold weather, and a feeling of "OK, I've done that...now what?"

That "now what?" was grad school and moving into a promotion at work and all kinds of other things.

I didn't want to "now what?" this time. Last time, I ended up with 60 extra pounds.

No way in hell that was happening this time.

So I got up this morning, strapped on my shoes and ran in the 30-degree weather. (And now I know, for sure: If only it hadn't been RAINY this past Sunday, I would have kicked that marathon's ass.)

I ran an easy three-miler. I was ever alert for new, weird twinges, and there were none. My hips were a little stiff, but that's pretty typical for me. My sore toe didn't bother me. My left ankle didn't hurt. My shoes were dried out. I even had an OK time -- about 10:30/mile.

It was all good!

Inventory

Two days post-marathon, and this is how I feel: Pretty much normal.

There's some achiness in my hips, but that's pretty normal for 39-year-old me. There are twinges in my left ankle, but I can put weight on it. Yesterday, I had some shooting pains run up my calves, but they were fleeting.

I have a small bruise on my left wrist where my Garmin resided for almost five hours. I have a scrape from from my left hip to about four inches across my stomach where the clip for my iPod dug into me for five hours. Otherwise, I'm fine.

I didn't go to work yesterday, and ended up doing everything that I usually do on Sundays -- grocery store, laundry, etc. Today, I return to work. Skirt, heels, stairs. We'll see how it goes.

---

I signed up for the San Antonio Rock N Roll Marathon this morning. November 11, 2012. :-)

December 4, 2011: 4 hours, 58 minutes, and 33 seconds.

"You should run your first marathon for the right reasons, because you'll never be the same person again." -- Bill Wenmark, running coach

---

In the end, I cried.

Not because I couldn't feel my hands. Not because I had feet that were swollen past anything I ever saw during two pregnancies. Not because my thighs were threatening to mutiny.

I cried because all of the sudden, I understood. I understood why people do this. Why I did this.

I can't explain it fully. The closest I can come is that I know myself better after running 26.2 miles in the cold and rain. I know what it feels like to run solely on determination and will.

I know what I am truly capable of.

---

I've said it here before: I'll run in the rain. I'll run in the cold. But cold and rain? No freaking way.

The White Rock Marathon looked upon me and said, "You most certainly will run in the cold and rain, sucker."

There were about three miles -- from mile 15 to 18 -- that I wanted to give up.

The marathon starts at Fair Park in Dallas -- the place where I spent many a time with my family going to the Texas State Fair -- and takes runners through Uptown Dallas (full of cool shops), Highland Park (take-your-breath-away homes), and some precious neighborhoods with adorable houses. The streets were lined with people cheering us on, having impromptu parties on their sidewalks, their lawns.

I was doing great -- it wasn't raining that hard, and I was keeping a doable pace -- anywhere from 10:30 to 11:00 per mile.

And then they split the marathoners from the half-marathoners. The half circles back. The full starts its trek around White Rock Lake, or as I like to call it, the Pit of Despair.

Before the race, when I was looking at the map, I was actually excited about running around the lake. You start running around the lake at mile 12 and when you're done circling it, you're at mile 20. I play mental games with myself when running, to get me through the hard parts, and I told myself, "Hey Beth, when you're done with the lake, you only have 6.2 miles left! You run that five mornings a week! No problem!"

Except that it was colder around the lake than it was in town. And there were very few spectators to keep us entertained. And I saw three or four runners drop. I tossed my cheapo gloves because they were so wet I couldn't feel my fingers.

I don't think I hit the infamous "wall" that marathoners talk about. Physically -- as far as my legs and feet go -- I was feeling good. But the mental aspect of it was staggering.

Cold, desolate, lonely...yep, that takes care of it.

But you know what? I am not a quitter. Us Bryants are famous for our stubbornness; I couldn't let my ancestors down.

Once I got around the lake and back into town where there were spectators and entertainment (two large men dressed as Dolly Parton), I perked back up and ran with all my heart.

And in the end, I got this:

---

After you cross the finish line at a big race like this -- Houston did this, too -- the LAST thing you want to do is keep moving, trust me.

But move you do. I had to walk to the Centennial Building to get my medal and my finishers t-shirt. They also had a post-race meal, but the line was staggeringly long. Since MetroPCS was a title sponsor of the race, they had employees with cell phones that you could use to call loved ones. So I called my sweet family. Russ' first words: "So you didn't die?"

Then more moving, this time to the Automotive Building, where my BFF Michele was waiting for me. (More about that later.)

And then more walking, this time about half a mile to where her car was parked.

The last time I had sat down was around 6 a.m., on the drive to the race site.

---

My husband always tells me that the body is not meant to run 26.2 miles. That it's unnatural.

I don't think he's right. When I finally was able to stop moving, my legs seized up. The act of not moving freaked them out. They had moved constantly for -- by that point in time -- six hours, and they wanted keep on!

So my legs seized up, and my whole body started shaking, and didn't stop until after I was back at the hotel, had taken a hot bath and eaten something.

(Also of note: I had a cup of coffee, a banana, a third of a cup of yogurt and some water that morning. I had three or four orange slices during the race. That was it.)

---

The final line was chip time, 4:58:33 -- from the time my foot crossed the start until it crossed the finish, and clock time, 5:32:22 -- from the time the race began until I crossed the finish line. I finished 3,195th out of 4,544 marathoners. I think the average time for first-time marathoners was a little more than 4 hours and 30 minutes, so I was off the average for that.

---

Last night, on the drive home, I was sore. This morning, yep, still sore. But it's not unbearable. I'm going to be able to function in my normal life with little problem. (I am, however, hoping to avoid stairs; they may be insurmountable.)

I'm having a toe issue. One of mine is sore, but there's no bruising or redness. I'm going to watch it and see what happens.

---

I'm already planning my next race -- The Gusher Half in March -- and then my next marathon -- the Rock N Roll Marathon in San Antonio.

And my next morning run, on Thursday.

Running MY race.

I am horribly competitive.

It can be a good thing: Once I decide to do something, or once I tell you I'm going to do something, or once you ask me to do something, I'm going to do it and you are going to get the best product/service that I possibly can give.

It can be a bad thing. I don't just want to win; I want to decimate you. It's not enough for me to simply have the most points at the end. I want you to feel badly about that fact.

Yeah. Not too many board games played at the Miller household. The last time Russ and I played Scrabble was October 1999, and it wasn't pretty.

This naturally transfers right over to my running. When I'm running by myself in my neighborhood or the park or the hike and bike trail, I'm good. Sometimes I run fast (for me). Sometimes I run pretty damn slowly. Sometimes I'm in the middle. And I'm OK with that.

But when I'm in a race -- what little sanity I have goes right out the window. I want to win.

Even in the 5Ks I ran before I got Serious About Running, I wanted to win. I was insane with desire to win. In my heart of hearts, I knew I couldn't and wouldn't, but that...whatever deep inside me...didn't listen. I gave my kiddos the speech about how it's not winning that's important, it's getting out there that is, but in my head, I was thinking, "Forget that crap. I want to WIN!"

So I'd start off fast, fast, fast (for me) and peter out by the second mile. Same thing with 10Ks.

It's gotten a little better now. But I'm a better runner, too, and so the odds of my actually winning a race have increased. I actually did win a 5K this season (the trophy is on my desk at work right now). I still start out way too fast, and if there are people ahead of me, I will kill myself to pass them.

I'm in good enough shape now that I can do that and still finish the race and still have a good time.

I cannot do that on Sunday.

I have to run my race. Mine. Not anyone else's.

Those people who start off really, really fast at the beginning? I can't worry about them.

Those people who finish the marathon in 2 hours, 30 minutes? I can't worry about them.

This race is not mine to win, no matter how much my competitive nature would like it to be so. It's just not. I'm 39 years old, and while I'm in the best shape of my entire life, I'm not a marathon winner.

But I can be a marathon finisher.

Need my fix.

Years and years ago, before I had children and had time (and the stomach) to watch Lifetime made-for-TV movies, I watched a movie called "Chasing the Dragon." It starred Markie Post, of "Night Court" fame. (Aside: Russ walked in while I was watching said movie, and to this day, we frequently use the phrase "chasing the dragon" to describe our own addictions -- coffee, Diet DP, dark chocolate, etc.)

The movie was horrific. It was about a mom who becomes addicted to heroin. Her life falls apart, of course, so she decides to give it up cold turkey.

Oh wow. That was a mess. She was anxious, bitchy, teary, nervous, unable to focus...

Markie, I know exactly how you feel.

Running is an addiction, as much as any drug. I am living proof right now.

I am unusually impatient and bitchy: I cursed a blue streak at all drivers in my way from the second I dropped Kate at school until I pulled into the parking lot at work. Their crimes? Driving too slowly (in my opinion). Leaving blinkers on after they turned. Not moving the second the light turned green.

I know.

I am teary: This morning, I went into Kate's room to wake her up. The kids have small Christmas trees in their bedrooms, and my girlie uses the lights on hers as a nightlight. I have to peel back layers and layers of blankets and quilts to get to my Katie-Bug, and when I did, the sight of her face -- which in that light, at that moment, reminded me SO MUCH of how she looked as a baby -- moved me to serious tears, y'all. Serious, ugly tears. Y'all, she's going to be TEN in 30 days! Some day, she will be THIRTY!

I know.

I am anxious: I have taken to pacing, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. From the front door to the kitchen. From the laundry room to the end of the dining room. I can't focus on the simplest of tasks. Decisions that used to take me 0.2 seconds to make now require lots of thought.

I know.

I know this is necessary, this rest. And I know that on Sunday, around 1 p.m., I'll feel GREAT.

But right now, I'm jonesing for a good, long run.