FatAss ... and proud of it.

When given the opportunity to participate in something called the FatAss 5K ... how can you say no? It meant road-tripping it to Springfield and hitting the street in search of corn dogs, beer, ice cream, beer, hot dogs, beer and pig roast. What's not to love?

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 The race is sponsored by the Springfield Rotary Club, and it benefits the town through their various charitable acts. So let me get this straight: I get to run, drink beer and eat junk food ... all in the name of charity? I'm IN!

We had a nice group for this one. Linda, Pam and I, plus Julie and Barb, represented the Saturday Morning Strength Training group. Pam's beau Jim came along, and we met up with my friends Biff and Amanda downstate. The festivities began with packet pickup the night before, after which Linda and I drove to Jacksonville (about 40 minutes away) which would be our home for the night. We stayed with Cindy Carlson Rice, my evil fake stepmother, and it made race weekend even more lovely.

Saturday morning we were up and at 'em, ready to run! This is one I'd like to do every year. It's not a serious race, more an opportunity to chill and enjoy the process.

And the beer.

Partners in Crime - me (in the back) plus Barb, Julie, Pam and Jim

Biff (almost out of frame), Amanda and me. 

Me and Linda.

Biff and Amanda.  

Linda, excited for a corn dog.

 

 The best post-race meal ever ... pig roast!



One Busy Weekend - edited to add tri results.

So a few weeks back - April 21 and 22 - I gave myself a ridiculous weekend. My first triathlon on Saturday, and a 5K on Sunday. Clearly, I have taken leave of my senses.

I'm not even sure what possessed me to do it, but there I was, wearing a bathing suit, in front of actual live people, prepared for a triathlon. 

Okay, it wasn't a real triathlon, but for me, it mattered. A group of us participated in the Lifetime Fitness Indoor Tri at Orland Park, and we had a blast. It's time based, rather than distance, you basically you have an hour of activity. They measure how far you go in the pool in 10 minutes; then (after you change out of your suit) you transition to a spin bike with an odometer on it, and that distance is measured over 30 minutes. Finally, you hit the treadmill for 20 minutes. You're scored against everyone else's distance and that's how you get results.

I, proudly, tied for last place. I am not the least bit embarrassed by that. In my 10-minute swim I reached 13.5 lengths of the pool; that's 337.5 meters. In 30 minutes on the bike I went 10.6 miles, and in 20 minutes on a treadmill I ran 1.43 miles. I consider that a success. (Stay tuned for more tri adventures; I'm doing SheRox in Naperville on June 10.)

 That's me, Meg and Linda, ready for the pool. I felt like a badass because I had marker on my arm.


Then Sunday brought the Healthy 5K in Hinsdale. Running a hilly course the day after the tri was a tactical error, but it was so worth it to be out running with my girlfriends. I finished in 41:44.2, an average 13:28 minute mile - still very slow by most people's standards, but for me, that was pretty good. Plus, we had breakfast afterward.

Shelly, Meg, Pam, Linda, Me, and Kristin - ready to run!



All in all, it was a great weekend. And the fact that it gave me the confidence to register for a triathlon? Yeah, that's pretty effing cool. Here's hoping I don't make a complete fool of myself, but even if I do ... well ... that's not a horrible thing.

Cranky at that dumb guy

So yesterday was Monday. Usually, Monday means spin class, which it did last night. But it also meant a little pool time. With the Indoor Tri coming up on Saturday, I wanted to get another workout or two done in the pool, so I packed my suit and headed to the Bloomingdale branch of the club. Because spin is at 6:30, that meant I could get an hour or so in the pool, and practice the transition from pool to bike. (The tri allows you 10 minutes to make the transition.)

When I got to the lap pool, all the lanes were full. But there was one middle-aged dude running in the lane (which is not recommended in the lap pool). So I went over to the lane to ask if he'd be willing to share. "Sir," I said. He would not look at me; he ignored me, turned around and ran to the other end.

It should be noted that many times, swimmers have to share lanes. Linda, Megan and I share all the time. You get used to it. The lanes really are wide enough. (Except that time Linda kicked me.)

So on his next run past, I approached again. "Sir," I said, "would you mind terribly if I swam in half of that lane?"

"That's fine, I guess," he said. "If you think you can fit."

Yes, that happened. Middle-aged dude called me fat. It wasn't so much what he said, but how he said it.

Ordinarily, something like that would send me into some sort of chocolate eating frenzy. But no, I just wanted to swim. So I let it go, I waited for a lane, and I swam. (Incidentally, I also got the transition from pool to bike done in just under 10 minutes. Including a potty stop.)

As for middle-aged dude, my fondest wish for him is that he someday finds himself in need of a lane to run in, and has someone graciously offer half of theirs. It would be nice if he'd learn how to treat people.

This one, we run for Mom

April 14 dawned a little cloudy, but we would not be deterred. Not even when I got lost. Not even when it looked like rain. No, today my sister Kathie and our nephew Alex headed to Wrigley Field for a 5K - the Race to Wrigley.

See, today is the eighth anniversary of Mom's death. Mom was a lot of things, but one thing everyone knew about her was that she loved the Cubs. So it seemed like the perfect way to honor her.

We started off right on the corner of Clark & Addison, and ran through Lakeview/Wrigleyville. I approached the race a bit differently than usual - sans technology. Running unplugged is different, and kinda awesome. It felt good to just run for the sake of running, tune in to the neighborhood and let go. I had my old-school iPod with me, but nothing to track my pace, or monitor my time, or even view my heartrate. Mostly, I just listened to the world around me. Just me, and the run.

So it came as a bit of a surprised when I neared the finish line at less than 45 minutes. I figured we started about three minutes after gun time, so my time should be roughly 42 minutes - a pretty solid run for someone as slow as me. Turns out, it was my best race to date. I finished in 40 minutes and 44 seconds, or at a 13:09/minute mile. I was number 3289 out of 3530 total, and 96 out of 112 in my age group. I am improving!

After the run, we walked down to Nuts on Clark to get (you guessed it!) nuts, and popcorn. On the way back to the car, we walked past this place, and we decided to stay for breakfast. Can I just say, the menu is amazing. Alex and I split the breakfast sliders and chilaquiles; amazing!

It was a near perfect day. Still a little cloudy, but for us, it was ideal. Having the opportunity to run under the famous Wrigley Field marquee, to remember Mom, was incredible. If she were alive today, she would have been on the sidelines, ringing a cowbell, hollering for us as we crossed the finish line.

I miss her every day, but I'm grateful for the memories, and the deep love o baseball she gave us all.

Unfinished business

A year ago, I was in a very different place.

Just one year ago, I was newly injured. It was on March 21, 2011 - the first full day of spring - that I injured my Achilles. It's been a year, and I have not yet forgotten the pain.

It wasn't just a physical pain, either. There was some emotional pain, too. One race in particular - the Shamrock Shuffle in 2011 - eluded me.

It was held later in the season last year - mid-April - but still, there was no way the Achilles would accommodate. (I later learned I had a tear in the tendon, so it's no wonder it took a long time to heal.) The day I came to realize (with some good advice that was hard to hear) I wouldn't be able to run, I cried. Oh, who am I kidding; I wept childish tears. All I could see was hopes and dreams slipping away. What if that meant I couldn't do the half marathon? What if I gained weight? What if? What if? What if?

I came to accept it. I even went to the race to cheer for my friends. I sucked it up and enjoyed the day, hoping with all I had that the next year - this year - I would be able to do it.

And as luck would have it, I did physical therapy. I healed. I was able to do the half marathon. And last weekend, on March 25 - one year and four days after I injured my Achilles - I ran the Shamrock Shuffle.

The Shuffle is an 8K (4.97 miles) through downtown Chicago, lauded by many as the official beginning of race season in the city. And this year, I ran it.

Linda and me, pre-race. Dig the socks.

Close up on the socks. A thing of beauty, no?

The race was magical. At a little before the first half mile, I started feeling my left Achilles. Seriously? Sonofabitch. But I just acknowledged it, and let it go. If I felt pain, or anything dangerous, I would stop. But instead, I was able to run, smiling, for five miles.

Okay, maybe not the entire five miles. I did walk to the water stations, and up the hills at the end. But for the most part, I booked it steadily through the entire race. And I'm hard-pressed to think of I time when I'd felt happier, or more accomplished.

Setting goals is awesome. Achieving them? That's a whole 'nuther animal.

In the end, I finished the race in 1:06:21, or with roughly a 13-minute/20-second mile. A far cry from the girl who barely walked a 17-minute mile last May.

But it isn't about the time. It isn't even about the run. It's about the accomplishment; the ability of the human spirit to say, "Nope, sorry. I'm not done yet." And I'm not.

Not by a long shot.

Weighing, waiting and the bliss of cross-training

I weighed in this week and I was up a bit - 206.2. Pfffffft ... but I'm totally letting myself off the hook a little bit, because it's Nature's Special Time and I know I'm Bloaty the Elf. Yes, I'm pretty sure that means I will not make it to the under-200 club by the time the Shamrock Shuffle rolls around. But I'm okay with that.

Also because I'm putting myself on mandatory rest, so I'm not getting as much working out in these days as usual. First of all, work is requiring some long hours these days. I'm getting to the gym or to the road for a run, but not as often or for as long as usual. But the actual reason for the rest is ... yeah, my left Achilles is totally fucking with me.

The good news is, I recognize the pain, so I'm resting immediately, rather than thinking this is something I can work through and causing greater injury. So, we wait. We ice. We sit with our feet up. The Shuffle is March 25, and I think I'll hold off running (at least anything over a mile) until then.

Having a new, fresh injury pop up has an interesting side effect: gratitude. See, my right Achilles has healed to the point that I forgot what it felt like. I completely forgot the pain, how it felt to have a constant limp. So this gentle reminder has made me feel grateful that I have healed, and come back stronger than ever.

It also made me realize that I have done what I set out to do. All I asked from my legs is that they allow me one half marathon. Just let me do this one thing, and everything else will be gravy.

I'm sitting - metaphorically speaking - in gravy. I can't let myself forget that. So I will give myself however much time I need to heal, and I'll be grateful for it.

Tomorrow, Linda and I will be volunteering for our first race. Good timing, because I wouldn't want to run it, anyway. I'm looking forward to giving back to the race community. I think it will be meaningful. I also think I'll still have breakfast afterward.

And in the meanwhile, there are lots of things I can still do. Bike (oh, how I love spin class!), run, elliptical, walk (carefully) ... I'm in a better place now to continue working out even without running than I've ever been in before.

So here goes ... the continuing saga of my shrinking ass. Stay tuned.

Weighing in, setting goals, tri-ing new things

I feel like I've been stuck and yet not for about a year.

I wanted to weigh less than 200 pounds for last year's Shamrock Shuffle. As it turned out, I wasn't able to run the Shuffle ... and I also never did reach my goal. So today when I got on the scale and it read 205, I thought to myself ... I can do this.

The Shamrock Shuffle this year is on March 25. That's 20 days from today, or a little over two weeks. It will mean a whole lot of discipline, but I think I can do it. Or I can at least come close. So I'm gonna try.

As of this morning, I'm back to tracking my food and exercise, and my miles. I missed a few days in my running/walking streak (which depressed the hell out of me) so I kinda derailed myself, emotionally. I'm gonna let that go, and just move forward. Fitness is not an all-or-nothing proposition; it's not about getting it "right" all the time, it's about doing better, whenever you can.

Not gonna lie ... coming back from the Princess Half was a little soul-jarring. After a weekend of truly feeling like a princess, and eating anything I wanted, coming back was hard. Re-entry is always tough after a perfect break from reality, but this was something else entirely. After reaching such a monumental goal, what was left?

The half was always my end game. I would get there, and then be satisfied. I would finish, and then I'd stop. But that's not where my heart is. Now, it's about improving. It's about next year. It's about the next 40 years. And it's a little goose-bumpy. Having let go of the let down, I got back to the gym this weekend. I ran and lifted weights, and I swam. It felt good. It felt ... endorphin-y. So today, in celebration of my newfound commitment, I registered for two more events: a 5K and my first triathlon.

Yeah. I said that out loud. A tri.

April 21, I'm doing the Indoor Tri at Lifetime Fitness in Orland Park. I might die during the swim portion, but what the hell ... it'll be fun.

So, ever forward we go. Out of my post-princess funk, and into whatever my fitness future brings.