Running with Bubbles

Goofy Training

Week One, days 4 &5

I had a really, really great weekend. Friday we went to Arlington and had dinner with my parents and sister and brother-in-law, and then Tony and I went out to Grapevine to help celebrate the birthday of a great friend. That meant I was a little hung over Saturday morning, but I was up and at ‘em for our first group session at 7 a.m. It’s hard to believe that just two years ago I showed up at this meeting having never run farther than a 5k and convinced that everyone else would know each other and be stand-offish and maybe even laugh and point at me.

Because it’s Joe’s last season, we have a huge team this year (we’re still looking for about 20 more people to make it to 100 – message me for details!) (And feel free to play Where’s Waldo with the picture below, which I shamelessly stole from Ian.)

All the alumni members meant I got to see a lot of old friends and acquaintances; it was so great to renew our connections. But I tried to make sure that new people were welcomed too. I still remember how it feels to question whether you really belong at any kind of athletic group, let alone one that’s about to run 13.1 or 26.2 miles. And even though I don’t (often) feel that I don’t belong there any more, I want to make sure no one else feels that way either. The truth of the matter is that distance running is mostly mental.

Don’t get me wrong – if you’re trying to win a marathon? There are a lot of physical considerations. But if you’re reasonably healthy, can stay uninjured, and just want to finish a race? Mostly mental. One of the great things about TNT is that you meet this group of coaches and people who have run races before and they all believe in you, and after a while you kind of start to believe in yourself. I’m so excited to see our new members finish their first race, and for our returning members to reach a new distance or speed goal. (I’m somewhat less excited about having agreed to go for 39.3 this season myself, but you can’t win them all.)

The rest of the weekend was seeing more friends, watching movies, reading books, and being happy that the multiple power outages didn’t last long enough to defrost the freezer. But honestly? That early, hung over Saturday morning was my most favorite part.   And not just because it meant it was time to buy three new pairs of running shoes.

By the way, if you’re super attentive to detail, you may have noticed that my training days this season have gone from four to five days a week. In honor of my extra run, how about a $5 donation? http://pages.teamintraining.org/ntx/wdw15/estepp

#irunwithcoachjoe #bubbleup

Goofy Training

Week One, Day 3

Two miles on the treadmill yesterday.

So, when I finished this run at lunch, my face was as red as a fresh summer tomato. I was pouring sweat even after I cleaned up and got ready to return to the office. Luckily by the time I got back I had spent enough time with the a/c in the car on full blast to look halfway human again.

What I want to know is, how come I see so many people at the gym who don’t seem to be sweating at all? They’re running, or lifting, or elliptical-ing, and they look like they just strolled off the pages of a fitness magazine. Meanwhile I must look like I’m about to pass out.

So. If being cute were an important part of running, I would obviously fail. But since it’s not, let’s move on.

To my second question – who wants to be my next difference maker? I have one donation so far and am still waiting for many, many more! Don’t wait – donate now and I’ll quit bugging you about it!

Plus remember – this year I am making a 25% matching donation for every donation of $100 or more. You put in $100, I’ll put in $25. You put in $1000, I’ll put in $250. Yes, Tony and I donate to my fundraising every year but this year I wanted to do a bit extra.

So donate now, and donate often. Your contribution could be the one that enables LLS to conquer blood cancer for good!

Goofy Training

Week one, day two   

Four miles at the gym yesterday – one on the track, two on the treadmill, last one back on the track. Trying to break up the monotony of running inside.

There’s nothing to do while running around a track (16 laps to the mile) other than think. And like a lot of people this week, yesterday I was thinking of Robin Williams. I had a lot to say, but most of it has been said by people more eloquent than I. I do still have a few thoughts to share, though (so if you’re over this subject, feel free to stop reading).

I know some people still say or think that suicide is selfish; it’s cowardly (thanks Shepard Smith); it’s “a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” I think the problem is that these people are thinking about it logically, not realizing that a person that depressed is incapable of thinking about it like that. Their brain is broken – of course their actions don’t make sense to you. That’s why it’s so terrifying. We want assurance that something like that won’t happen to us or someone we love, but there just aren’t any promises.

David Foster Wallace once compared suicide to those people who jump out of burning buildings. “Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames.” Sadly, David Foster Wallace had personal experience with that kind of crippling depression and took his life in 2008.

Luckily, I’ve never been that depressed, but like a lot of you out there, I have suffered from depression in the past. And we should definitely heed the calls I’ve heard over the last two days about being nicer to each other. But we also need to be kinder to ourselves.

I’ve been kind of dysthymic the last couple of months, not really enjoying the things I usually look forward to doing, and I’ve mostly been ignoring it. I’m going to stop doing that now, and start doing the things I know help me. More sleep, less sugar. More vegetables, fewer beers. Less stress. More time with family and friends and less in front of the computer screen. In a couple of weeks, Tony and I are going on vacation where I’ll get to spend a lot of time outdoors. Rafting, ziplining, rappelling, sitting out under the stars – and I honestly can’t wait. I need to be better about not letting so much time go by between vacations.

The other thing that helps me? Running. I didn’t expect that when I started, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been a little down lately because I haven’t been running as regularly as usual. So being back in training should help. And if none of these things help, then I’ll talk to my doctor. Life’s too short, y’all. Most everyone has had something happen to them that jolts them into that realization, like Angi’s death did for me. So take care of each other, but more importantly, take care of yourself. I certainly will.

Goofy Training

Week one, day one

Seems to me a few years ago, I posted a Facebook status wondering about the mental acuity of people who chose to run downtown in August at noon. And then yesterday I found myself running 2 miles at 6 p.m. in August in Highland Park.

At least there’s shade in HP (money = trees, I guess)

It’s not that I wanted to run 2 miles in 100 degrees (okay – 98 – whatever, it was hot!). But after a weekend of parties and friends and household errands, there was no way I was getting up early yesterday. I kind of thought I might sneak to the gym at lunch, but work was too busy – and I really, really hate the treadmill. Primarily because I’m so clumsy I always think I’ll fall off. So, it was a slow run but I did my two miles.

Yeah, looking hot and not in the good way.

A week ago I would have blown off this run. A couple miles on a Monday – no big deal, right? But it was the first day of training. Missing the first day of training is like skipping class on the first day of school. I needed to start my training schedule off right.

And on a more serious note – the first run is extra important to me. Two years ago, my first run was the day after my friend passed away. Last year, my first run was on the anniversary of her death. This year, it was the day before the anniversary. It’s been two years today since we lost Angi. I still think of her a lot; we all do. It’s kind of a tradition now that my first run of the season involves a broken heart and a few tears. I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it half the time, but I do know this – TNT is important to me, and raising money to fight cancer still feels like an important way to celebrate Angi’s life. So once again, it’s time to Bubble up.

Cowtown half-marathon recap

Since the marathon in January, I’ve hardly run at all. First I was recovering. Then the weather was bad, I was busy at work, I’ve had this never ending headache, etc. etc. excuse excuse. Truthfully, I just didn’t feel much like running. I was kind of over it. So I did 2 miles here, four miles there, and regretted ever signing up to run today’s half-marathon in a flurry of marathon training madness.

But I had signed up. So this morning I got up at 4 am and got dressed to drive to Fort Worth and my eye fell on the name “Cooter” on the back of my race jersey. And I told myself to remember that among other things, I run for those who can’t.

Cooter is the nickname of our friend Corey Berry. I want to tell you about Corey, but I don’t really know how. I keep wanting to say he’s a great guy, but what does that really mean? I could tell you that he’s the kind of guy who has that special knack to see someone who feels left out or uncomfortable and find a way to bring them into the group. To see someone who needs help and never hesitate to hold out his hand. I could tell you that he’s a veteran. A Rangers fan. A huge supporter of the Azle High School football team. One of the first people to congratulate me after my marathon last month.

I could tell you how brave he’s been in his fight against cancer. That he chose to keep fighting even when it meant undergoing a surgery that took his voice and his ability to eat. That he still found joy in his friends and family, a cup of cocoa or a bowl of soup. That I laughed on New Years Eve when he volunteered to be a designated driver for anyone who needed one, with the added bonus that he had no voice and wouldn’t be able to yell at you. That I sobbed when he posted about breaking down in tears because he just wanted to eat a piece of cheese toast.

Not too long ago, Corey’s doctors gave him bad news. The cancer was back, again, and had spread, again. There was nothing more they could do. He’s now in hospice, his long fight almost over.

Today I sent my friends on ahead of me at the race, knowing I’d need to go slower than they were. As I ran, I thought of Corey and his sweet, giving heart. And I found myself really enjoying every moment. Thanking the guy in his lawn chair clapping for each of us as we went by. Making friends in the twelve(!) minute bathroom line at mile one. Giving a wave and nod to the police officers keeping traffic at bay as we ran through Fort Worth. Picking the littlest kid at the water stand to take a cup of Gatorade from. Dancing and whooping as I went by the bands, from polka to blues to rock. Smiling at and high fiving the TNT cheer squad at the big hill at mile 9. At mile 12 I caught up with my friends and teammates Mark and Chrissie and we all crossed the finish line together.

I didn’t get a PR today (thanks to that bathroom line!) But instead, I got something much better. I got a reminder that running is an opportunity, not an obligation. And that Team in Training has given me much more than I’ve given back.

Everyone reading this knows I always run for Angi – it says so right on my shirt. But I know she’d be the first to understand when I say, Cooter, my friend, this one’s for you.

Marathon training

T-6

At the beginning of the season, Coach Joe gives us all a training schedule. This season, I decided to mark the days off with stars (the blank days are those I missed or did less than on the schedule). Today, I ran 2 miles at the gym at lunch and thus marked off the first day of the final week. When I finished my run, I thought, okay,12 more of those and that’s the race. No problem.

After work I went to have Dr. Chris work on my knees and I told him, “you know, I think I might pull this off.” “You will.” I’ve heard that from him and Coach Joe and Karen but now I’m finally, finally believing it. And I know that’s most of the battle at this point.

I feel like I’ve talked about myself a lot this season. Running and Team in Training has been a real journey of self-discovery for me and I’m in a place I don’t think I would have found without Angi and her fight.

But I want to be sure to thank YOU. All I do is run and talk way too much about running. You provide the dollars, the support, the listening ear and the shoulder to cry on. I wish you could all be at Disney with me to cross the finish line. But you will be there in my heart. And if you could, when you wake up Sunday morning, take a moment and think, “huh, Elizabeth is running a marathon right now.” Maybe even a little prayer if you’re the praying type or some good wishes if you’re not. I’m counting on that energy to carry me through.

Six days. I got this.

Marathon training
Week fifteen, days three and four

I know this post is late, but I wanted to post it anyway because it’s important to me. Thursday I ran a 5k (at the Turkey Trot) and Saturday I ran 18 miles. And through both of those, I took the time to really feel grateful in the spirit of the holiday. And I think I have posted something very like this before, but there’s nothing else to describe how I was feeling this weekend.

I’m so thankful I have the ability to run, even if I don’t go very quickly. I’m so thankful I have a husband who never complains about the time I take to run or the nights we stay home so I can get up early (and only a little bit about the running clothes and shoes I buy). I’m thankful for meeting new friends every season I’ve been with Team in Training and seeing old ones again and renewing our friendship as we run.

I’m thankful for my team captain, Karen, who insisted I not finish the last six miles all alone Saturday. I’m thankful for my coach, Joe, who always responds to my, “I’m not sure I can do this” with “of course you can.”

And most of all, I’m thankful for you. My friends, my family, my financial supporters and my emotional supporters. Because I may be doing the running, but you’re doing most of the donating and all of the reading and reassuring. Thank you. Really – thank you. It means the world to me

Marathon training

week fourteen, day three

I got out and did my four miles yesterday morning before the cold and rain moved in. It was pretty humid though, which meant I was a whole minute per mile slower than I was on Tuesday. It’s amazing how much humidity affects me (especially my knees). On to more important matters though – running music!

I’m starting to think about the details of race day and decided I wanted to make a marathon playlist. I’ll get tired of the premixed rock my run downloads I usually listen to, and I don’t want to have to fumble around and skip over the weird stuff that is randomly on my ipod. Given that I’ll still end up with some I don’t feel like hearing and that I run slowly and will have to be in the corral for a good while before we start, I’m thinking 150-ish songs. That’s where you come in! Any suggestions of good running/cardio songs or just songs you think I might like to hear while running 26 miles?

Marathon training

Week fourteen, day four

Eighteen miles.

You know how when you say something over and over, it starts to lose its meaning? I did that all last week. Eighteenmileseighteenmileseighteenmiles. Eighteeneighteeneighteen. 181818181818. It didn’t work.

Friday night, I told Tony that if I ever said the words “ultra” or “ironman” or anything similar, to tell me no. As it is, this undertaking is beginning to sound ridiculous. I don’t even like to drive 18 miles, let alone run that far!

Saturday it was my turn to give the mission moment. I told Angi’s story and the origin of the phrase, “bubble up.” For those of you that don’t know, Angi’s nickname was Bubbles. When she was sick, our friend Tammie said that people always told each other to be tough by saying, “man up” or “cowboy up” but that she thought Bubbles was the toughest person she knew, so she was going to change that phrase to “Bubble up.” It kind of became a slogan for all of us and I’ve taken it to heart during my training. My race day shirts always have “Bubble up” somewhere on them.

It was a good thing it was my turn to tell that story, too. I could hardly cut the run short or decide to walk for a while when I had just told my teammates that we could do anything if we focused on our honored heroes and all they had been through.

So, yeah. I ran 18 miles. It sounds just as strange now as it did before I did it. It was hard. It took me a really, really long time to finish. But…I did. Thanks to Angi and to all of your support, I dug deep and bubbled up and I did it.

It’s 8.2 miles short of the distance I’ll run in January, but I’m totally Scarlett O’Haraing that one and thinking about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another (running) day.

Marathon training

Week Thirteen, Day Four and

Week Fourteen, Day One

To my longtime unnamed friend:

I have to admit, when you said you were thinking of running the Metro PCS marathon next month even though you don’t run now, I thought you were making fun of my ongoing training posts and how much attention I pay to my training and fundraising. Then I reminded myself (once again) that not everything is about me.

But I still don’t get it. You want to run a marathon but you don’t like running. So technically, you want to have run a marathon – maybe to tell people you did it, maybe just to prove it to yourself. Either way, I think that even if you manage to finish the 26.2 miles without injury, you won’t really enjoy it.

See, I think you view running a marathon without training as akin to eating your dessert without having any vegetables. But I was thinking about that as I ran thirteen miles on Saturday and at first I thought it was more like having the frosting without the cake. But even that’s not it. It’s more like having the birthday candles and no cake or frosting at all.

Yes, race day is pretty awesome. You are out there waiting with thousands of other people for the signal to go, there’s people cheering and holding up silly signs, and at the end you get free food and even a medal. But as fun as race day is, I don’t think that’s what a marathon is about.

I think a marathon isn’t about whether you can slog through 26.2 miles on one day. I think it’s about the months of dedication and training you put in before that day. It’s about realizing that you’re wiped out one day (like I am today)and making the decision not to run four miles and knowing you’ll still be on track.   It’s about early to bed Fridays and looping the lake in the dark and chafing and blisters and foam rolling and getting up the next day and tying those shoelaces again. It’s about laughing and crying with the friends with whom you train. It’s about countless miles spent in your own head facing your insecurities, fears, hopes and dreams.

My primary concern about you running the race is still the very real risk of injury you face. But more than that, I hope you decide not to do it until you have the time and desire to train for it. Because even though it seems like the marathon is just one day, in truth it’s the months of growth that you gain along the way. Because in the end it’s not the fireworks or the medal or the cheering crowds that make the marathon; it’s what you’ve given to yourself to get there.

Elizabeth