Alternative Medicine

It is possible that I love working out more than anything. And while I write mostly about running and it is the core of all my training and fitness goals, I really just love being in the gym and working out. But more than that, more than the accomplishment of achieving my own goals I love training people and helping them meet their goals.

OF course this means I have to tweak my plans, I have to research, and be open minded. I have to treat each person different, find what motivates them, what their goals are, what they want the end result to be. Most people find my method of training incredibly boring. And I'll admit it is very boring, running on a treadmill mile after mile, day after day, week after week. Adding more endless miles in what feels like a vacuum. I spend hours just staring at my reflection make the same repetitive motion. I compose a new playlist almost weekly to keep me interested never knowing what song will come next is sometimes the highlight of a workout. But I digress.

So when my bosses boss asked me to help her out at our work gym a few nights a week I was beyond excited. All I ask of people is that they show up willing to do whatever it takes. I see this as an easy request but I forget how hard it is to adopt the mental toughness required to stick with something even when it is hard. I look to this as an experiment, and I mean that in the best way possible. Of all the people I have helped, very few have seen results, or have been able to take my teachings and adopt them into a consistent lifestyle change. One thing I strongly believe is that a good trainer doesn't need to train forever. A good trainer should be able to give someone enough skills to workout on their own and through positive results.

After a bit of hassling we had finally cemented a day. Monday. The week before I would plan out workouts while doing my runs. This proved to be a great way to pass the time but it was nothing more than the general idea of how I would break things down. The weekend before I had wanted to plan out a routine but of course by the time Sunday night rolls around there are never enough hours to sit down and to the kind of research I always wanted to do. When I get to work Monday I am getting more nervous. My one downfall is my failure to quickly learn choreography. And because of that, I lack the skills to also plan choreography. So when I have to actually lead someone through a workout I get nervous that I can't remember everything! Oh crazy me. luckily super-boss didn't have a ton of time so we had about 15 minutes to do some full body cardio with 3lb hand weights. I thought up enough moves that weren't too hard, or boring. When that was done we did 10 minutes of solid abs.

The best part, was whatever I said, she did. I loved it. And the whole workout was over in half hour.

As soon as we were done, I hopped on the treadmill and began my four mile run.

Today, my whole body hurts more than it has in weeks. Doing a workout other than running felt great, energizing and motivating. And I love it. I am already brainstorming ideas for Friday's workout with the super-boss!

Welcome to Monday. But not just any Monday. The first Monday of the new year, 2010 to be exact (like anyone could forget what year it is). Today at exactly 5pm I will be gathering up my belongings, shutting down my computer and heading to the gym. Today a lot of people will be doing the exact same thing, but for many it will be the first time in months or even years they have set foot in my favorite place. New years resolution gym go-ers are bound to be out in full force. And personally although I am happy for people who want to make the effort to get in shape, I would have been a lot happier to hang out with them last month during the Christmas crunch as well.

Today is unofficial start a diet day with women all over America. So as I pack my lunch of baby carrots and cheery tomatoes, yogurt, a banana, whole grain bagel and cream cheese, an apple and sugar free ice tea, I am sure that if today you walked into my office for the first time you would mistake me for one of those people. Call me crazy but after two days of take out food I was just about ready to go on a fruit juice fast or eat nothing but carrots for two days until I felt myself getting back into shape.

Today - unlike much of America unfortunately - I am getting back into my normal routine. I cannot wait. I am happy to be, for once, in shape through the holidays and through the winter. A month ago i could barely do ten sit ups with out feeling a burn through my body. Just the other day I did at least thirty with out feeling anything (until the next morning!) It was moments like that when I really start to feel how much i have let myself go.

Happy new years resolutions and Happy getting fit!

Winter Wonderland.

Now I love running. I love it so much that most of my friends and family think I'm crazy. But there is something about running in the months November through March that just send a chill up my spine. Perhaps it's the fact that the only daylight I come into contact with is through my office window. It could have a little bit to do with the snow, ice, and bitter cold wind. Sometimes I know it's because it means workouts on the treadmill. But whatever it may be, I know that more often than not I would rather be Christmas shopping, drinking hot chocolate, or engaging in my other favorite winter sports of ice skating and snowboarding.

Except for this year.

This year some crazy part of me decided to sign up for a spring half marathon. Really Sara, you want to do long runs in the freezing cold? You want to spend an hour on the treadmill two or three times a week?

Alright well lets review the logic behind this otherwise insane sounding plan.

Every year I do a fall race. I give up everything to train, get into the best shape of my life, inevitably get sick two weeks before the race, and when it comes to race day I am not feeling ready. When the race is over I dive right into the holidays and don't think about running again until Easter!

Well this year went even worse than all the years before. Work took over my life. I didn't make weekday workouts a priority. The Philadelphia Half Marathon was a big fail. FTL. And when you fail once race the only thing to do is to sign up for a new one. This year I made a promise to myself to get back into racing shape, to keep running through the winter, to not let myself get slow.

I moved all my running inspiration to the front wall of my cube so I could look at it every second of the day. I printed a fresh workout calendar and pinned it up as close to my face as I could get and I started planning out workouts for the month of December.

Week one of winter training : Ran 2.5 miles Tuesday night on the treadmill. Planned to run 3 on Thursday but got caught up with work. Planned to run 6 on Saturday but got de-railed by the first snow of the season. Happily enjoyed Christmas shopping, decorating, and singing. Moved 6 miler to Sunday, got up early and had toast and cream cheese for breakfast, got dressed and was looking for my sneakers when I realized, they were at work! foiled again. I cut my losses and just went food shopping instead. Mother nature and fate did not want me to run this weekend so fine. I would not run!

Week Two: Setting out to be WAY better than week one. Monday Ran Four miles - 4 x 1/2 mile repeats @ approx 10 mm. Wednesday Ran three miles 4 x 1/4 repeats at up to 7mm. Whoa! So now once again Saturday is going to be the best weather day for running outside. I MISS running outside. I miss looking at things other than myself in the mirror.

I packed up all my running gear b/c i'll be staying at the BF's house and running along Main Street to Kelly Drive in the AM. Long pants - check. Long sleeve Nike jacket with hood - check. Gloves, headband - check.

Motivation - well i'm working on that one....

xx Sara

Race report - Philadelphia Half Marathon

There isn't much in my life that I have given up on. I am a win or die trying type of girl. As much as I felt like I was going to die during the second half of the Hartford Marathon, I kept on going. I trodded along and after four hours and forty five odd minutes I crossed the finish line.

Sunday morning I woke up at 5:30 AM. I tiptoed out of the bedroom, already in my running shorts ( a race day tradition). Everything I could possibly need was packed into my race bag, and layed out on the table. I quickly got dressed, splashed water on my face and woke up the BF so he could quickly get ready. There is something magical about getting up before the sun. You act like it is mid morning, you go about your almost normal routine but there is something about being awake when no one else is that makes you feel just a little bit mischievous. I dressed in all my layers, including my ratty but lucky white sweatpants that I had made my sophomore year in college. BF and I made a quick stop at dunkin donuts so he could get some breakfast and coffee. I didn't feel so bad leaving him out in the cold knowing he had coffee in his system.

By the time we picked up H and D the car was toasty warm and there were some good tunes going on the radio. I was pretty excited. Even though I hadn't run a foot in almost two weeks. My last run had been an easy 8 miler on Saturday morning before boarding a plane to Sri Lanka. Ok that's not true. My last run had been just this Monday - I ran a mile on the treadmill.

We get to the city, and park a few blocks away from my first apartment. Check to make sure we have everything out of the car, and that we left anything not needed. We stopped at an apartment to pick up some friends of D's and then we made our way over the spring garden bridge to the start line. We weren't leaving much time to dally around, which was fine by me because the more I sit around the more nervous I get. I was wearing my favorite race day outfit. Black Nike shorts with the pink trim, green long sleeve tech tee, blue gloves, and of course my lucky pink bow. We shuffled our way into the corals and found a good spot not too far back and not to close up. I took off my layers, put them in my race bag and handed them off to BF, who is my official race photographer. Love him.

While we waited I tried to get us pumped up by telling H how ready for this race she was. I knew shew as really hoping to PR, especially because she had originally planned to run the full marathon and had to bring herself down to the half due to over scheduling. I wanted her to do so well, possibly because I knew I couldn't. This wasn't my race, it never was. It was always meant to be a race I would run to close out the year. something to do so I wouldn't feel like a complete failure. Funny, it kind of had the opposite effect. The hardest thing to deal with that morning in the corrals was trying to pump H full of positive energy only to have her turn to D and have him knock it down. Attitude means a lot to me at the beginning of a race. if there is anything I struggle with it is mental strength when running, so it crushed me to hear that D wasn't being as positive as he could.

And then it started. The wheelchairs were off, the elites started, the first wave of runners went, the second, the third, we were probably the fourth or so in line. When we crossed over the start mat I clicked my watch, and the race officially begun. The first mile is probably one of the loudest, most crowded, but most uplifting of the whole race. People fill the streets with signs, banners, and bells. They scream, clap, cheer and encourage. Part of me wonders why they come out in drove to cheer you on for your first mile when really you need it most at the end. I am very concerned with not starting too fast, so we stay to a conservative pace. I listen to people all around me talk, I watch as people start to loose layers. We ran by Mile 1 in just about 11 minutes. Ok for the first mile, but I knew H wanted to PR and her current PR was about 2:12. I started doing math in my head to pass the time and figured if we did 10mm the whole way we would cross the finish in 2:11. That would be cutting it awfully close so basically we'd have to run just under 10mm the whole way. and we were already a minute behind.

For the second mile I tried to pick up the pace slightly. I have to say I was feeling pretty good. We ran down Columbus and it was really nice to have the course open up a lot. Hit mile 2 at 10:30 pace. Felt Great.

Mile 3 we hit our first water stop. It was sticky and there were cups everywhere. I opted not to drink anything for at least mile six. Not sure if that was in my best interest or not.

I don't remember exactly where we passed mile 4, somewhere around South Street I suppose. We were finally on pace at 10mm and The miles were going by pretty fast, I still felt great and I was running slightly ahead of H and D. I don't know if it was just easier to pretend I was running on my own, but I also think that running behind them made me anxious. As long as I was in front I was in control, no matter how fast or slow I was going. But if I let them lead I would have to keep up and knowing I needed to keep up made me feel like I chasing instead of running. D had actually brought three dollars with him for a slice of Lorenzo's and he ran ahead of us for a minute or two but it was so early in the morning they weren't open yet.

As we made our way onto Chestnut Street I was starting to feel my breathing get tight. I scanned the crowds of people for any faces I might know as a distraction but the feeling wasn't getting any better. By somewhere around 22nd street I had to admit to myself that I wasn't going to be able to continue at this pace. I waved over to H&D and let them know I was ok but to let me go slow. The feeling that had taken over many of my long runs was haunting me through my race. I felt so out of breath and I had slowed down so much I was almost walking until the road started sloping uphill. If I was running slow now how was I going to run the 34th street hill? How would I run the hill at mile 9? How would I finish the race.

Without realizing it I had caught up to H&D, but we were reaching the top of a hill and I again slowed down to practically a walk. I knew that if I let my anxiety get the best of me I would be done for, but I also knew that right before mile 8 I would loop by Spring Garden Street and if I wanted to stop then would be the time. If I decided to keep going the only thing taking me home besides my feet would be the first aid car. I did NOT want that to be how I got to the finish to the race. But could I really give up? Did I have it in me to admit I was better off just stopping than to foolishly keep going and torture my body? My mind drifted off momentarily to the second half of the Hartford Marathon last fall. I had wanted to give up so many times due to shortness of breath but how would I ever get back? I thought maybe it didn't matter so I had kept going, every step and every second just wishing I could stop and rest and then maybe I could breathe.

By the time I got to 34th street I had pretty much made up my mind it was over at the top of this hill. I ran that hill with all the energy I could muster, and it helped a lot that there was a huge crowd lining both sides of the street. As I approached Spring Garden Street I had my eyes peeled for BF and when I found him I almost stopped right there on the spot. His face lit up with pride that I was doing a great job and as he snapped pictures of me and offered me words of encouragement it broke my heart to tell him I was done as I jogged in place. He urged me to continue, reminded me that I was already halfway done and I could do it, he knew I could do it. But I couldn't. My heart sank as the words fell out of my mouth and he started to notice how exhausted I looked. Realizing I wasn't giving in he let me stop. I immediately sat down on the sidewalk and started crying. I was so disappointed in myself, not for being slow, but for stopping. For giving up.

I searched my bag frantically for my phone. At times like these no matter how supportive BF was, I needed a mother's words of comfort. I dialed. It rang. And when she answered, and heard my voice on the other end she asked "Are you done? Did you finish?" The first thing I wanted to ask was "Are you crazy? It's only been about an hour and a half how fast do you think I am??" But I just said no, I didn't finish.

"That's ok," she answered. "I am sure you did great, I am proud of you for trying." Leave to my mom to always make me feel better. It was a temporary fix though, it would take the rest of the day and a little bit of the next week before I would stop feeling sorry for myself.

I guess part of my problem is that once I set myself to do something, and more importantly once I tell people I will do something, I feel like I owe it to myself and to them to follow through on my word. Otherwise I am just someone who talks a big talk. It was so hard to look at everyone the next day at work and explain to them why I did not finish my race. It had me pretty down. But as luck would have it I used my disappointment as motivation and that day picked a new race to sign up for. WIth a new goal ahead of me, there was no time to look back and dwell on the past. I had learned a new lesson. Sometimes you have to fall down, you have to fail, in order to make yourself get back up and fight twice as hard to go after what you want.

Keep moving forward friends.

xx Sara

"To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice The Gift"

Five on the dot. I grab my bags and head downstairs to the gym. Deadline time is behind me and I can finally head to the gym with out guilt for an easy four miler. I have been looking forward to this moment since probably, 10 am.

Two years ago when I started training - training was everything. I kept my schedual tacked to my cube wall, I read about running at lunch, an on a running day I was out the door no later than 5:15. I found peace and freedom in those runs. Nothing mattered once my feet were pounding the pavement. I had to work hard for every second of every minute that I was out there. There were no five minute coffee breaks, only recovery which kept throwing my body forward.

As I tied my sneakers, snug but not too tight, and fasted my pink watch around my wrist I glanced over at the dark empty gym. I was often the only one who worked out here, a hamster on a giant wheel running in place in front of a wall of mirrors. Forced to watch my reflection make the same moves over and over. I sighed at the thought of running four miles in such a monotonus environment. I had seen a clouded over sky on my way down to the dungeon of a gym, but somehow the thread of rain was not as menicing as the threat of boredom. I needed to finish this run and if I had to cut it short becuase I could not stand to be in the same spot for another minute I would not easily forgive myself.

I stood in the commons for a good minute, watching the clouds. I must have looked like a fish out of water in the middle of our giant pink palace. A girl in black running shorts and a black tee shirt, the only trace of pink being the trim on my shorts and my watch. Who was this athletic looking person standing in the middle of all our pink and green and prep? My mind was made up. Outside I would go, a quick dash inside the locker room to grab my access card, a quick hello to Ms. Pat, and I was out the door and heading up the hill. In all honesty I didn't even know where I was headed, I didn't know how many miles I was going to run, or the terrain I was going to encounter. I was just happy to be outside, to be moving at a pace that was entirely dictated by my body and not my a moving belt under my feet. Treadmills made me feel cheated, like I was being told i could run faster than I was able, the belted ground moving along under me and I just picking up my feet to keep up.

The seconds and minutes would tick away on my pink iron man watch as I slowly moved up the hill. I was only half aware that all the cars driving by me were my fellow employees leavnig for the day and I was just getting to the best part of mine. I kept on moving forward. I would go twenty minutes out, however many miles that would take me, and then turn around and head home. I would not set myself any more limits than that. I had a vauge idea of running to Valley Forge Park, or at least seeing how close to it I could get. This would mean turning right onto Allendale, right onto First Ave, and then right onto whatever came next. I ran down third on the side of the road rather than in the grass. There was a serious lack of sidewalk around this area. I opted to stay on the right side of the street as I turned onto Allendale, which was probably not my smartest decision being that the side walk was on the left side of the street. But I chose to avoid traffic lights and run right in the road again. For a minute I hopped up onto the curb and ran like a balance beam one foot straight infront of the other. I would occasionaly waver side to side but never once stumbled completly off. And then that too ended and I was left again to run in the road, and then the grass, and then the road. I just prayed that when this short stretch ended and I turned onto Frist ave there would again be sidewalk, and there was! A wonderfully flat, open, and short stretch of sidewalk. Ok so I probably should have seen this coming. First Ave was a coral reef of office complexes. Why would they ever want to sidewalk all of their streets? Who would ever want to run along this hilly industrialized stretch of road? Runners I say (even though I seem to be the only other one out here, everyone who is smart just drives the five minutes to Valley Forge park) next time I say. Next time I will just drive to the park.

My mind for a moment drifted to my saturday run with Heather. This past week we had tackled eleven full miles, trecking through various neighboorhoods in the city. We trecked up hills and rampms, past train tracks with box cars full of garbage, past the zoo which smelled of animal waste, and past a putrid stretch of west river drive that smelled like something too gross to even identify. We ran although she had a sinus infection at at times she said she wasn't going to make it to the end. But I kept telling her not to stop. I know what it's like to be in her shoes, I used to say the exact same thing. I used to say I would stop like it was a threat to Larry, when in all reality it didn't matter to him one way or another. I would keep going becuase I knew I had to, and becuase I knew I would feel guilty. I kept pushing Heather and she kept going. I knew when it came down to it, at the end, she would want to feel like she acomplished something and not that she failed. Of course there would be runs where you gave up, there were countless runs that I gave up, even with Larrys words of encouragement. But we would not give up that day. we pushed all the way up the top of the hill and finished at Falls Bridge. I wanted to tell Heather that she had taught herself one of the most important lessons in training for a marathon. There will always be times when you feel like you cannot keep going, but you will. You will feel like there is nothing in the world that could get you to take another ten steps, and while you are too busy contemplating to stop or not, you realise you have gone a quarter mile with out really thinking, so you keep going another quarter mile, and before you know it you have knocked one more mile off your run. And you do what all good runners do, you just keep going.

As I ran along the grassy terain sidewalk again appeared under my feet, as I approached the bottom of a large hill. I silently cursed myself for picking this route as i checked my watch. Almost nine minutes. Ok hill, let's go! As I made my climb I started to look around and I realised that in the two years I had worked here I had never really taken the time to find out what else was back here. And I never realized the amount of people that left the office before six. Cars were lined up at every exit, waiting their turn to enter into the massive fight that is the rush hour evening commute! For once, I felt anything but envy towards them. They were sitting in their cars, in their restrictive business casual attire, and would probably remain there for at least a half an hour getting angry at other cars and wanting to be home. While I was free, I was out on the road, I was moving, and for the first time in months I felt like I finally had a purouse.

The aftermath

My stomach churned, my legs cried out for ice.  I rolled over and checked the time on my phone.  Ten of seven in the morning.  Now here is a great debate if ever there was one.  At ten of seven in the morning on a sunday, who actually wants to get out of bed and eat something and take Ibuprofen? If I get up I'm going to end up stretching out my legs and god knows that once I've been out of bed for more than five minutes I'm not going back.  But who wants to lie in bed, legs begging to be loosened, and stomach just itching for something to eat.  I will never get any rest this way either.  Ten minutes later, stomach wins out, as stomach always does.  There are many things I can stay in bed through, leg pain, having to pee so bad I might explode, sleeping through everyone in the house awake and sometimes even fighting, bright sunlight.  The list goes on forever but stomach always wins.

I get myself out of bed suddenly aware that the burning in my calfs is from spending hours in three inch heels on the dance floor just hours before.  Weddings.  gotta love weddings.  But weddings cannot be an excuse for not running, and so my ten miler had to get squeezed in pre ceremony.  

The morning was dark, so much so I had a moment of confusion, wondering if it was maybe the middle of the night.  I picked up my phone to silence it's deafening beeps .  6 am on the dot.  I wish I could have rolled over to boyfriend and whispered "Five more minutes?" But he wasn't even in the house.  I wasn't even in my bed.  I was on the couch.  My plan of falling asleep on the couch had backfired, instead of being uncomfortable and being easier to get up in the morning, I was just as content to go back to sleep for another five years. Or five hours, which ever came first.  Five seconds was more like it.  I stood up, and stretched ready to begin my pre run routine.  Did I even remember how to get ready this early in the morning?  I knew the basics, shorts socks shoes, sports bra, tech t-shirt, windbreaker.  Gatorade, breakfast bar, ipod, headphones and then ... wait, where were my headphones?!?! While I rarely ran my long runs with music I counted on the upbeat tunes to wake me up and motivate myself to get out the door.  this morning they were nowhere to be found.  No matter though, I didn't have much time left, I had to be out the door to drop gatorade on the course so I simply plugged my ipod into my car and got revved up that way.  I drove my car around the slick twists and turns of Kelly drive, pulling over just before the art museum to stash two bottles of gatorade behind a tree.  After that I was on my way to pick up heather and we would begin our run.  

We started out crossing falls bridge onto west river drive and chatted mostly about weddings, registries, planning and the like.  Heather was recently engaged and as exited about planing the whole ordeal as ever, and although boyfriend and I were still only boyfriend and I, I never much minded talking about all the planning.  Plus I had a wedding to go to later that afternoon which is why we were running so early.  Just like last week the sky was over cast, and the weather cool, with only a slight threat of rain from the dark clouds hovering around the city.  I noticed we were going along at quite a decent pace for having so much trouble two weeks ago.  The weather had a lot to do with it, but slowly we were both feeling so much stronger and it felt great to cover the distance in a comfortable fashion instead of a struggling one.  This week I had mapped the course, so Heather followed me up hills and through Fairmount park as I explained to her the course that the Marathon would take you.  We did a semi backwards version in order to do most of our uphills in the first half of our run.  Running through the war memorial and down Lansdown drive memories of my training flooded back into my mind.  When ever I thought of those days I felt stronger, I felt like I could go farther, I felt my steps become more fluid.  Those where the days where I could race along doing ten miles at a nine minute pace.  But for now we just went along as best we could, just finishing the miles, enjoying the scenery, enjoying the company an the conversation.  We begin to approach the art museum and by now we have completed five miles at least.  Our thoughts are on gatorade.  The sweet taste of gatorade flowing over our lips, thrusting energy into our bodies, giving us the push we need to complete the run.  We round the corner onto kelly drive.  I start to look for the tree, I run off the path only to find that our gatorade is gone.  Are my eyes deceiving me? is our liquid energy, our running treasure really gone? We know it didn't just get up and run away, could someone have really stolen our gatorade? This fact would forever baffle me but it didn't stop us.  We quickly found a water fountain which would have to satisfy us for the next four miles.

Thankfully it was only four miles and that last stretch always went by fast.  There were always plenty of people to look at, and when falls bridge appeared in the distance out of nowhere came this surge of energy that pushed you up the hill to the finish.   Ten miles.  ten miles and it wasn't even 9 am yet.

As I lay stretched out on boyfriend's living room floor, stuffing my face with leftover pizza and Gatorade (finally!), stretching out my aching muscles, I remembered why I did what I did.  Why I ran.  Because for some reason I actually liked the pain.  I actually liked when my muscles felt hard and tough and toned.  I liked being a runner.

I would put up with the pain, the hunger, the early nights, and the even earlier mornings.  I loved what I did.

Back on the horse

For the first time in a long time, I had a real summer vacation.  I planned my weekends around cookouts, family get together, trips to the beach, and days at the pool instead of long runs, and recovery days.  I stayed out late on friday nights laughing with friends, I drank beers, I went out on dates with boyfriend instead of staying in, eating a sensible dinner and getting up at six the next morning.  It was glorious and relaxing and well... downright normal.  And that last little thing was probably what bothered me the most. I ran to get away from normal, I ran to be exceptional.  I ran to push my body, my mind, to challenge myself in the hardest was I knew possible.

I had trained for months for my second marathon.  I had given up so much in order get better, and in the end I was displeased with the results of my race.  So much so that I began to wonder was it all really worth the time.  Was it worth giving up my social life for a subpar marathon performance. Forget about the fact that I PR'd by about twelve minutes.  That didn't matter to me.  I wanted to achieve big goals.  Perhaps I had just set my sights too high.  But with my coach moving on with his life in med school, with me newly dating boyfriend, I realized I had to give myself the time off to enjoy my early twenties.  If my life led me back to running than so be it,  if it did not, than perhaps it was not mean to be.

I am by no means out of shape compared to the average american.  I stayed active, snowboarding in the winter, running every now and again in the spring, going to the gym a few days a week.  I always ate pretty well most of the time but never failed to pass up an opportunity to eat ice cream.  But compared to a runner I knew I had lost so much speed compared to last year.  I kept telling myself this is what I wanted.  I wanted to take a year off, enjoy life, stay injury free.  But the more time that went by the more I realized I was becoming content with my semi active life.  I put in extra hours at work and my running or working out happened more rarely.  Weekends where I stayed with boyfriend or went on trips I never even tried to accommodate for running.  I just pushed it aside like some chore I didn't want to do.  Was running becoming a chore to me?  The thing I had loved to do and lived for for so long was becoming a nuisance in my life?

What scared me most was that boyfriend, who did not come from an active lifestyle, would get used to the way I had been for the past year.  He enjoyed nights in watching TV, or nights out having a few drinks.  He was not an early riser.  If I did not do something about this now, what would happen when I was finally ready to get back into training? Would he hold me back? would he be unhappy with the time I spent training? I needed to know now.  

After a few arguments, I realized the only thing keeping me from running was me.  I needed to be tougher with myself.  I needed to get out of bed in the morning no matter what.  I needed to run the miles and keep going until I was done.  No one else could do that for me.  I had to make the time.  

So for the first time all summer, I finally set aside a saturday morning and said, this is gong to be it.  I am going to go running.  And then I realized that while I had been taking time off, my friend Heather had been running more.  I had always been the one to train more, but it would seem now that we were finally in a place where we could train together.  I knew that nothing motivates me to get out the door more than knowing someone else is there to go with me.  Even more convenient was the fact that she had just started training for a half marathon.  Sunday morning I rose at seven am with that all too familiar feeling of knowing I would accomplish something great in the next few hours.  I had a quick breakfast, and drove to our meeting spot.  The air was chilly but not cold, perfect for late august.  As we ran that morning, we chatted and caught up with each other's lives and even in the times when I thought I couldn't keep going, I did.  The clouds cleared and the sun beat down on us and we slowed down a bit but we never stopped.  Seven miles later we arrived at the end of our run, my car where I would drive us back to our houses.  At home that morning I went about my normal weekend routine of making coffee, cleaning my house, and reading the paper.  But it felt different than it had in the past.  It felt strong.  I felt like it didn't matter what I did for the rest of the day because I had already done the most important thing.  The next day I signed up for the Philadelphia half marathon.  I was ready to get back into racing.

One weekend long run under my belt, the next step was to do another.  Being labor day weekend I knew I would be away from home, and took al my running gear with me in case I were to have the chance to run.  I did not, but we arrived home earlier than planned and so Sunday night I set my alarm for 7:30 am, made sure to eat something healthy, avoid drinking.  When my alarm went off the next day I momentarily contemplated snoozing and going back to sleep for another half an hour.  But all I could see in my mind was running, pushing myself, needing to get this run in in order to be able to run ten miles next weekend.  It was only a matter of minutes before I was out of bed changing into running gear and ready to go out.  I quickly kissed boyfriend goodbye, said I love you, but couldn't take the time to have a drawn out goodbye.  The hardest part about running was putting aside all pleasure and just going forward.  So I just took off.  As I started my run, I thought about how pleased I was with myself for getting out of bed.  I would run eight miles this morning.  I would run no matter what, no matter what hurt, no matter how hard it was, no matter how much I wanted to stop.  Main street was deserted and there was a light breeze, there was no sun out, perfect weather.  Before I had even covered one mile my ipod died and I was forced to spend the rest of the run lost in my own mind.  I remembered back when I was training I would make up stories in my head, or narrate my actions to myself to keep entertained.  Today I calculated how far I would have to go to run eight miles.  Two miles down main street to the 3 1/2 mile mark on Kelly Drive, add 1 1/2 more miles to make four and then back to make eight.  As I made my way onto Kelly I was joined by more runners.  It's always a good feeling to be joined by fellow runners.  I said good morning to most that passed me.  I tried to keep thoughts of hot coffee and egg sandwiches out of mind.  My mouth was dry, I scolded myself for not drinking enough water the night before.  I beat myself up in my own head, pushing to keep going.  Turning around at the halfway point it was like I had put myself on cruise control.  My feet were moving, I was moving forward, but it was as if my mind was separate from my body.  I was just along for the ride.  It was a smooth stride and in those moments my mind just wandered, I looked out at the scenery around me taking in the trees, the river, I even saw a fox on a hill in the distance.  Before I knew it I had pushed myself onto Main street.  I was cruising up the last hill, and then trotting down the other side,  I threw my body into a higher gear to push across the last cross street and as I moved my legs across the bridge to cross onto Venice island I was done.  

My legs hurt, my mouth was dry, I could feel the muscles in my stomach, legs, back aching to hold me up.  And yet I was happier than I had been in a long time.   Getting back on the horse would not be easy. There would be many more early mornings, there would be aching muscles, and I would love every single second of it.