Last Saturday I ran a half marathon. For the second time this year. If you had told me I would do this ten years ago when picked up running as a very casual hobby (5K here, 8K there, that 10K everyone in my city does), I would have looked you dead in the eye and said “nope, no way, not me.” Because, thirteen miles. Thirteen. Miles. The first time I ran that 10K, I thought that the six-mile training runs might actually kill me. Six mile runs are the light end of the training for a half marathon. I’ve now actually heard myself utter the crazy words: “just six miles today.” Just. Six. Miles. Continue reading
Dear Tenacious Little Running Injury,
Is is okay if I call you TLRI for short? No, you prefer Tenacious I, like Tenacious D – but with an I. Fine. Now, comedy music duo names aside, I’m writing to let you know that you’ve made your point loud and clear and I’m going to need you to leave.
I’ve learned two things about myself since you showed up: Continue reading
Last Sunday my husband and I ran a 15K (9.3 miles, but 15K sounds much cooler, right?). It was called the Frostbite 15K and this year the race name could not have been more accurate– it snowed all morning.
There were parts of the race where the beginning of the course and the end of the course ran the same road. Meaning as you went out others were coming in and vice versa. We were at about mile 7 when the last runner came through (she was probably about 3 miles in). I know she was the last runner because there was a police car behind her, signaling the end of the race. Everyone on our side cheered for her as we ran by. She seemed to know one of the men behind me and made a comment about her slow progress, to which he replied “Just run your race. You’ve got this.” Continue reading
This past week I’ve been thinking about my hands a little more than I usually do. It all started on a morning run last Friday. It was a familiar stretch of sidewalk, one I usually run over at least twice a week. It’s well-lit and not strewn with fall leaves like so many parts of the city are right now. There are some funky, out-of-place bricks – but I know that. I had never so much as stumbled on them. Until Friday when I fell. Continue reading
There are a lot of things I describe myself as: writer, wife, daughter, advisor, beer drinker, food eater, theatre goer, music listener, onion chopper, awesome crouton maker. But I have never called myself a runner — until today. Continue reading
A little more than five years ago, I decided to run my first race. I picked the 8K that is run simultaneously with the Richmond Marathon (and now half marathon). When I began training I threw on my gym shoes and hopped on the treadmill . . . and then walked around with aching shins for days. Sure I hadn’t run in years. Sure the last time I had seriously run was as a teenager. And yes, running at nearly 30 is quite different from running at 15. I knew all these things, but I also knew something wasn’t right.
I can’t remember exactly how I figured it out. It may have been internet research, a conversation with a more seasoned runner or some memory of my brief stint on the track team in high school. Perhaps a combination of all three. Whatever the source, the answer was simple: shoes. (And let’s face it – aren’t shoes often a good answer). Not just any old athletic shoes, but actual running shoes. The kind purchased at a running store with employees who watch you run and recommend the right shoe for you. Locally, I’m a fan of Road Runner.
Which is where I went tonight for a long overdue replacement for the pair that saw me through this years 8K and countless additional miles. Running purists will tell you to track the miles on your shoes and replace them after how many ever miles. I just know it’s time for a new pair when I can’t clearly remember the last time I replaced them (and when the blisters start to show up).
So resting in my closet tonight is a lovely new pair of running shoes; ready for me to lace up in the morning. Oh, and did I mention that they are blue. And bright green. And not particularly pink*. Love that!
*For the record, I have no problem with pink. It’s just nice to see the running shoe industry finally realize I might also like other colors.