Running with Avery

I ran 3 miles with my 13 1/2 year old granddaughter one morning last week. She ran out in the open, all around our neighborhood, with her grandmother - me - and even seemed to enjoy it. We talked about running, used runner's lingo ("what's your tempo?" "ear to pocket while running"), and encouraged each other when we arrived at an especially big hill. Along the route, we rescued a turtle who was crossing the street a little too slow for our liking. We talked of her track coach, my stride, her form, and she brought me up-to-date with the latest news from the city where she lives. For me, this was my agape day - a day of pure love. And then it hit me. Would I have been able to do this with my grandmother?

My grandmother was eccentric, wildly devoted to her family, depressed most of the time, and crazy about me, her only grandchild. She wore corsets, Red Cross shoes, house dresses, and dentures. Grandmom had bad knees & gnarled knuckles, problems she believed were caused by her father whom she reminded us bought beer for himself instead of milk for his daughter. She never forgave him and never passed up an opportunity to remind me that I had a much better father - her only son- than she ever did. She lost her home during the Great Depression. There was no social support system then, no jobs, no money, nor the ubiquitous and ever-present "grief counseling" during times of social stress. Grandmom was 61 when I was 13, two years younger than I am now. I adored her. I went plenty of places with Grandmom - mostly to church, or shopping, or sometimes to a local restaurant on special occasions. But never ever in my wildest fantasy did I ever entertain the idea or desire to run 3 miles with Grandmom. And I would have been mortified to do it.

Times change. We "Boomers" had no intention of living our lives like Grandmom. I don't own a corset or even a girdle (which are now referred to as "spanks" - figure that out). I have all my own teeth, my hair color is the same as it was in high school with a few gray strands here and there. The Baby Boom generation had all the advantages Grandmom didn't. If we're not healthy, for many of us, it's due to our lifestyle, overeating, no activity, or the myriad of behaviors that are slowly killing the Class of '63. I was lucky, I know. My father did buy milk for me. My bones are able to endure distance running. Thanks Grandmom for insisting that I drink my milk.

I ran 3 miles with my granddaughter last week. I wish for every grandparent an experience like this - my agape day with Avery.

A personal trainer for me

My competitive nature is starting to show up these days. I try to suppress it whenever it starts to rear its ugly head but today it came upon me full force. And I thought of my father.

Daddy was a teacher and an athlete; he loved coaching his high school teams and he loved playing tennis. He began competing in something called the "senior games" when he was in his 70's, and racked up a number of bronze & silver medals every year. We never gave it too much thought; my mother never joined him, never went to cheer him on, and when he'd call to announce that he'd gotten another silver medal at "the games" it brought on only mild interest on our parts. "Great Daddy!" I'd say, then update him on the latest adorable thing our kids had done. But he kept on competing and winning medals, always announcing it to us as if it were the Olympics. Daddy finally won his one & only gold medal at 80 years of age. Still competing, this time with only one other 80 year old in his age category, the two of them signed up for the 3-point hoop shooting event and when he won, he sent us a photograph he had taken of himself with his gold medal around his neck and an enormous smile. When he died too soon, we made sure he was wearing that gold medal. At his funeral, his friends marveled at his talent and told me stories about his competitiveness at "the games". Oh Daddy. If you could see me now.

I thought about my father this morning. I hired a personal trainer today to help me train for Falmouth and for a possible 1/2 marathon sometime in the future. I'm running in a seven-mile road race in two months. What do I possibly need with a personal trainer? A competitive edge.

I've told myself and everyone "I just want to finish"; then "I just want to finish strong." Then my friend beat me by 2 minutes in the 5K we ran last Sunday. Granted, I'm 10 years older than her. Granted she's been running for years on her treadmill. But my legs were getting tired toward the end of the race and the heat was starting to bother me. And as I watched her blow past me, just like my same-age neighbor did last week, I realized that I don't just want to finish. I don't just want to finish strong. I want to finish better, better than I am now.

So I hired a personal trainer.

God help me, I thought, when I first saw him at the gym; what have I gotten myself into? He's going to make you do all manner of crazy exercises with equipment, the names of which you haven't the vaguest notion nor how to use them. And it's going to hurt - a lot.

Turns out, Steve's 35, a research scholar in linguistics and also drives a limo to make extra money. He has a young daughter who is a cancer survivor and he's lost 100+ lbs on his way to running marathons & becoming a certified personal trainer.

"Hi - you must be Suzanne" he said. "Let's get started." Oh lord here it comes. I had spoken to him on the phone the day before, giving him some background info, and outlined my goals & my reasons (however moronic) for hiring him. He said based on all of that information, he created a 3-session training plan that I could implement on my own. He didn't think I'd need more than 3 sessions. Really? You're kidding I thought. I have absolutely no idea how to do ANYTHING here.

He suggested I warm up on the treadmill for the first 15 minutes of the 60 minute session. Then the fun began. Steve showed me how to strengthen the muscles in my torso for balance, the abdominal& back muscles to support my posture. He gave me exercises to improve my "quads" - those muscles on top of my thigh that help propel me and contribute to running endurance. We did cardio intervals on the treadmill, and when we were finished, he told me I was "actually strong", a "natural runner" and of course I could finish Falmouth better. I wanted to bottle him and take him home.

I don't know if I can get better. Maybe I can based on what Steve told me. But I think I understand Daddy now and that gold medal that he chased year after year. He just wanted to get better. So do I.

A real 5K

In my quest to prepare for the Falmouth Road Race in August 09, I decided to register for a few local 5K & 10Ks.  I had run a 5K in February, billed as "a fun run with Bill and Frank" (yes, that's Bill Rodgers and Frank Shorter, 2 Boston icons of the running world and Olympians as well) which was really just that - a fun run with a group of experienced runners (more about this "fun run" in another post). Today's 5K was a well-organized charity event to benefit our local hospice provider. 

I convinced my friend Jan who never ever runs outdoors, and who only runs 2 miles on her treadmill, no more no less, to consider running with me. We started running together during our Florida vacation when I gave her and our friend Elaine "I run like a girl" running shirts and a challenge: run outside with us just for one week. She did, and had to admit it was much more fun than running her 2 miles alone on the treadmill. She decided to give today's 5K a try. 

I try never to do anything without being as prepared as possible. So I read my "5K/10K Running" preparation book from cover to cover last night and followed the guidelines for "what to eat 24 hrs - 12 hrs - 4 hrs - before a race".  I laid out my clothes & running shoes last night and got precious little good sleep. Somehow those dreams of twisted ankles and pulled IT bands were able to creep into my sleep and I awoke feeling as though I had already run the 5K and failed miserably. Heart pounding, and many bathroom visits and a 20 minute warm-up on my treadmill later, my wife and I left for the race.

Jan called en route - where were we? - we were 5 minutes late! In my haste to leave, I forgot my ID and sunglasses. But we arrived in plenty of time to register and Jan had already walked her 1/2 mile warm-up. I was amazed to see so many people I knew; I had no idea they were runners. The hour leading up to the race start was filled with reunions and catching up ("Wow Avery's 13 already? Where did the time go?") until we were notified time had come to start running.

Jan & I positioned ourselves in the middle of the pack. As in any race, the experienced runners  immediately left us in the dust, with walker moms with strollers, men with kids behind us. It was hot at 9am - hotter than I expected for a New England morning in June. I determined the Galloway run/walk system would work best for me as a beginning race runner. I wanted to be consistent, avoid injury, and finish STRONG.  Jan and I began the race running up the 1st hill turning a corner and and then up the 2nd hill; after 10 minutes, I began my 1 minute walk breaks - 10 minutes running, 1 minute walking. Mile one finished in 13 minutes. Mile two was mostly downhill and partially on a shady gravel road. Up ahead we saw a water station with high school kids giving out small cups of water - I could have used 4 or 5 of them, but I was grateful for the 1/2 cup I was given. The course was lovely - we ran through a wooded area with a canopy of oak, maple and pine overhead. It was cool and shaded - perfect for mile 2; then past a lake with a dad & his son fishing, and past homes with perennial gardens in full bloom overlooking the lake.

Runners passed us, walkers passed us. Jan didn't want to confine herself to the 10 minutes run/1 minute walk system, so she began to pull away from me. "Tell me when to walk" she'd say, and I did, but she never really walked after mile 2. At mile 2.5, we came out of the shady residential lakefront road, and entered the center of town, running around our towering Town Hall. I noticed our local spring water fountain up ahead and knew I had to stop and take a short drink at the fountain. I probably lost 1/2 minute off my time, but I knew I needed that drink to be able to continue. Jan ran up ahead and I never saw her again until the finish. 

I crossed Main Street where the police officer on race detail told me to cross, and headed up the 3rd hill to the tennis courts and fairgrounds behind the school where we started. I ran up behind a man walking slowly toward the tennis courts. "Well" he said, "I guess we'll make it after all." Odd statement I thought, so I didn't respond. Did he think he wouldn't be able to walk the 3.1 miles?  I'd conserved my energy like the books instructed. My cranky knee was fine; my legs were holding up. I told myself I'll run it to the finish, not walk in. 

I rounded the curve on the final few hundred yards and saw my wife, Jan, and a group of my friends at the finish line, whistling, waving their arms and yelling "You can do it - come on Suuuuzannnnne!" All of the sudden, without warning, the slow walking gentleman behind me started to run! What? You're going to walk the entire race and and start running now, passing me at the finish? I thought "oh no you don't" and I took off like a shot out of a cannon. I gave it my best, gave it everything I had. I ran faster than I ever thought I could possibly run and sprinted to the finish ahead of him. My time was 45:31 minutes.  Jan had come in at 43:31, a full 2 minutes ahead of me. I told her she was a born runner of races. Her response: "I'm hooked!" We hugged and cried and congratulated each other on finishing.  

My wife took pictures, Jan's husband stood in stunned appreciation at her accomplishment, and my friends talked of running more races in the next few weeks. My emotions ran rampant - from abject fear to a "put-the-pedal-to-the metal" commitment to a wave of competitiveness that overtook me and propelled me to the finish, and finally to sheer elation that at 63, I had actually run 3.1 miles in 45 1/2 minutes. It doesn't get any better than that. I love you Patti, Chris & Briana. 

7 miles 100 minutes

Back from vacation - it's time to get serious about Falmouth. 

The Falmouth Road Race is a 7 mile race through Falmouth MA on Cape Cod. The race route runs through spectacular waterfront scenery, including a typical Cape Cod lighthouse, and along stretch of road paralleling a gorgeous beach along Vineyard Sound, ending at Falmouth harbor. Seven miles including 3 major elevations - 2 at the beginning and one right before the finish line. I drove it one day last winter, terrifying in its winding roads and seemingly enormous hills and never-ending beach. It woke me up some nights - how will I ever do this? What have I done? I've never run anything or anywhere ever before my first 5K in Feb. (which was billed as a "fun run with Bill & Frank"). 

I decided to run Falmouth alone on a sunny Sunday in April. I figured if I could practice running the route I may have a shot at finishing. It would also help with my nightmares - it's midnight - everyone's gone and I'm still......running....walking.....crawling toward the finish line..... Oh lord. I'm toast.

I didn't anticipate the traffic - cars literally zooming around the curves and down along the beach as if they were racing at Daytona. I ran 5 of the 7 miles - my heart pounding - hyperattentive to every noise. A large dog ran down a driveway and decided to run a mile or so with me just for the fun of it. A neighbor said the dog has a habit of joining runners along that stretch of beach. 

I think I could have finished the route but my wife disagreed, so I stopped at 5. The nightmares continued. I had to find out if I had any shot at finishing or if this was going to be a humiliation.

Today I ran 7 miles in 100 minutes. Granted it was in my neighborhood - no traffic, no dogs, but lots of hills with similar elevations. A woman my age blew by me running at top speed and with spectacular form. That'll be for another day and another challenge. 

 Today I ran 7 miles in 100 minutes. I expect to sleep well tonight.

On Vacation

A Florida vacation - the first bona fide full vacation in years - I was psyched. My wife and I flew into Tampa with 2 friends, rented a big SUV to accommodate all the luggage, and arrived at our destination ready for big time R&R. I brought my running shoes & microfiber socks (best ones to run in). I gave my running companions running shirts as a gift and we were all set.

Florida in May - hot hot hot! First day there, 3 of us went out to run and one to walk at 9am - too late - too hot. The resort has a one mile "walking/jogging" track for its guests. I ran 3 miles and was dripping in sweat. That wasn't so bad, but the hot humid tropical air was an energy sapper slowing our times 'way down. We all dragged ourselves back to the condo and dove into the pool.

Day 2 - Out by 8am - our clothes were clearly not appropriate for tropical weather running but we had a good 4 mile run and planned a shopping trip for lighter running shorts - ones that "wick" - at the local outlet mall. But first, a trip to the beach for an afternoon of swimming in the Gulf of Mexico and some shelling on the beach. And then it happened - I went one way - and my left knee went the other way.

 I don't know if it happened while swimming in the water or walking in the sand on the beach - I only know that I felt that feeling twice before - after bowling and after running on the beach at home - significant discomfort with every step and an occasional sharp pain involving a nerve - as if I was getting an electrical zap!  Not being one who has much experience with injury or pain, I was at a loss as to what to do. I spent the rest of Day 2 elevating and icing - granted it didn't hurt that I was elevating & icing while sitting on a lanai at a pricey resort & spa sipping wine coolers - but still - I wanted to run!! 

Day 3, 4, 5  - It's amazing what 2 Tylenols and 3 Advils and ice packs will do to alleviate pain. I ran 4 miles each day. Not great (I've run 6 miles at home) - but every day in late May gets hotter and more humid in Florida, so 4 miles is decent. 

What was most important was my time - 4 miles in 50 minutes - a record for me. Running in hot humid heat, running with a mild injury, running on vacation when most people take off from exercise - but this was my plan and I stuck to it. My daughter-in-law/coach/inspiration wrote an article about running after injury; although hers was much more severe (cast & knee surgery), she made an amazing comeback and has run many marathons since then. She has told me that injuries heal faster when one is in shape, healthy, and eating well. I can attest to that. I'm home now - vacation's a happy memory - and it's been a week since the injury; with applying the same regimen, my knee is almost back to normal. I'm ready to run 6 miles, hopefully more. Falmouth is only 8 weeks away. It seemed like a lifetime back in January...... I can't wait.