What a freak

The holidays: a time for festive get-togethers, good cheer and constant reminders that I am just not normal. It all started when I had lunch with Sarah Pease before she left for winter break. She so very kindly gave me an awesome tree ornament that said "Marathon Freak" on it. As the comedian says, "here's your sign."

This message of freakishness is reinforced more during the holidays than at other times because my lifestyle choices fly in the face of the traditional gluttony and sloth that surround this holy season. The holidays fall during the coldest season of the year, therefor further illuminating the oddness of my running obsession. When the weatherman is telling everyone to stay inside, I am putting on thin spandex and two pairs of gloves while worrying about getting overheated.

It is also a time when you see people you haven't seen in awhile, so they've apparently forgotten last year's answers to their questions of "How much do you run each day?" "When are you going to the Olympics?" and my personal favorite, "How fast can you run a mile?" The best is when people have a had a few too many, so they ask me these same questions twice in one night, except usually the second time around they'll slip in a story about their junior high long jump heroics or their cousin in Kansas who is a great runner too.

If I had a dime for every person at my dad's Christmas party, which he calls the "Ho Ho Ho Ho-down," who encouraged me to have another drink and a cookie because I looked "thin," I could have afforded Christmas presents for the whole neighborhood. If only those people could see the girls I've seen at meets whose buns won't stay on because their waists are smaller than the spandex constricts, then they would know what skinny really is!

While most families sat on their couches, opened presents and ate breakfast Christmas morning, I was trotting through town on empty roads, listening to "Run Run Rudolph" on my iPod for inspiration.

It also hit me later that day that most all of my Christmas presents related to running - a plane ticket to a race, a stationary bike trainer so I can cross train, a book about Bill Bowerman, even the hair ties my dad, er, I mean Santa, put in my stocking are for running! Also, a majority of the gifts I gave to others came from a running store! This is surely not normal. So yes, perhaps I am a freak, but anything else would just be boring!

Oh the weather outside is frightful, but my dear, you're so delightful

Over the course of the last week or so I have run in rain, sleet and snow, on mud, slush and ice, in shorts and t-shirt one day and in long sleeves, pants and two pairs of gloves on another. As the saying goes, if you don't like the weather in Indiana, just wait five minutes.

It started last weekend with the aforementioned muddiest race of my life at the USATF Club Cross Country Championship in Cincinnati. Today's run was a slip 'n slide affair across Bloomington with Maura, with only a few near collisions with the cars that refused to scoot over a few inches despite the entire other side of the road being empty. In conditions like today's, every step is a game of Russian Roulette, wondering if your feet are about to go out from under you on the next patch of invisible black ice. For me, every step is also a flashback to the winter morning nearly four years ago when I did just that and instead of being the nimble cat I normally am, I face planted and came away with a nice scar above my eyebrow. To this day when it is really cold that scars still aches and tempts me towards a treadmill.

Saturday morning I awoke in the dark to drive up to Brownsburg to meet Julie and Allison for a twenty-miler from Julie's house to Eagle Creek and back. The hope was to avoid the incoming winter storm and its inches of snow. We came close, but by the time we stepped out the door there was already a coat of the white stuff on the ground. We got many dirty looks and a few angry honks on our way, but once we arrived at the Park we were welcomed by dozens of our own kind. These were fellow cardio-addicts who likewise understand the masochistic pleasure of watching the snow fall through the branches and crunch underneath the weight of a good shoe. At one point I spent a little too much time admiring nature's beauty and not enough time admiring its dangers and slipped straight into a Sycamore (and I'm not talking about one of my friends from Indiana State).

This very minor collision gave me the jolt of adrenaline I needed to be aware enough to avoid actually falling down for the rust of the run. It also got me wondering if our crazy compatriots had scars similar to mine from when they too had put the joy of self-propulsion (a.k.a. running) above personal safety on the priority pyramid. By the end of the two and a half hour run my legs ached, my fingers were numb and later in the day I could barely keep my eyes open, but since I did not acquire any new scars (or worse) it was totally worth it!

Whenever my head aches from the cold or I get frustrated with constant slippage, I contemplate moving to a warmer, gentler climate. However, without weeks like these I don't think I would have the same appreciation for the nice weather, nor the good stories to tell that make me sound tough :) Not to mention, a great excuse to drink hot chocolate (it's a proven recovery drink, see Tecklenburg, et. al). Sure, Arizona would be nice right now, but I'm a homegrown Hoosier and just can't help but find some perverse rationalization for liking it here!

*I know the pictures have nothing to do with the post, except for the fact that I was dog-gone tired after the run on Saturday, and Lola did nap with me for awhile!

A team for the teamless

Post-collegiate running can be a shock to the system after four (or in my case, five) years of having teammates, coaches, trainers and other supporters, not to mention paid travel, lodging and per diem. I knew this life was coming, but nonetheless still find myself occasionally missing the comforts of college.

This weekend I had a fleeting reunion with my past life, this time as part of Team Indiana Elite. The teamless once again had a team. It was not the traditional team, though, as I had never met two of the women on it until we arrived in Cincinnati Friday night, and the only people I had ever actually run with before were Jane and Dani. Even the van ride over was fun as it had been a long time since I had sat crammed into an unsafe vehicle with bags piled on every square inch of free floor and seat space. It's the little things sometimes... After dinner we had a team meeting then a "spike party" in the hallway, putting the longest deadly metal objects we could find into our racing shoes in hopes of staying upright in the mud bath they were calling a course.

The race itself, the USATF Club Cross Country Championship, was by far the muddiest race I have ever run. Our pristine white spikes didn't stay that way for long, and even the tape I wrapped all around both shoes to keep them on was sucked off by the massive puddles. At one point the tape was flapping with each step, half on and half off, but I managed to keep my balance even when someone stepped on one end of it. I never really felt comfortable racing-wise, often veering from one side of the course to the complete opposite side trying to either find a solid piece of ground or pass people who were quickly slowing down in front of me. Despite my rather pathetic finishing time and place, the race really was lots of fun. How can you not have fun getting completely covered in mud, jumping hay bails, and being on a cross country team for the first time in over a year? There is no other sport like cross country, pure guts and grit, and a little dirt for good measure. Unfortunately, we finished sixth as a team, one point away from fifth and winning prize money. Usually, I'd be pretty upset about that, but I was having so much fan hanging out with everyone, guys and girls, that I didn't even really care.

Once we got back to Bloomington, instead of eating dinner, Dani, Jane and I headed to Jiffy Treet for some delicious cyclones. I ate mine in about one minute (Dani and Jane, being sensible, took a little longer, but not that long). We talked and laughed, recounting the funny moments of the weekend and making fun of the college girls who came in wearing Ugg boots and tights (which Chapman had been making fun of during the ride home). In what seemed like only a few moments later, the guys we had just spent all weekend with (the male members of Team Indiana Elite) walked into Jiffy. I looked at my watch and realized we had been sitting there for over an hour and a half! Time flies when you're having fun...

Less than eleven hours later, Jane, Dani and I, along with Allison, met up at our usual spot at Bryan Park for our long run. As soon as we picked up our knees and made the transition from walking to running, the heavens burst open. Rain in the summer = fun. Rain when it is 37 degrees and you spent the whole weekend in wet weather = not so fun. Yet, we managed to laugh about it and talk for enough of the run that only the last three miles felt really painful. I managed to distract myself during the end stretch, though, by fantasizing about what it would be like to be on a team again, but not a college team, I'm done with that phase of my life. But instead, on an elite team, living next to each other (for free), not having to do anything but run, talk, laugh and go to Jiffy Treet on occasion!

The anti-Thanksgiving

In a spirit contrary to the wonderful gratitude of Thanksgiving, here is a list of things for which I am not grateful:

1.) People who cut in line at Starbucks. Seriously folks, it only takes 15.7 seconds for them to concoct your non-fat double pump hazelnut latte with no whip, so chill out while I get my little innocent cup of coffee! Just send another text message while you are waiting, that will take up the spare time. And I promise, I won't accidentally spill my drink on your Ugg boots or Northface jacket.
2.) Movies with plot lines where old wrinkly men hook up with hot big-boobed women. You never see wrinkly women making out with young guys in the movies, just doesn't happen. This plot line ruined an otherwise perfectly good movie I was watching over Thanksgiving break.
3.) People who like to tell me that running is not really a sport. Why don't you go tell a tiger that his teeth are not really that sharp?
4.) Cell phone companies, no explanation needed
5.) Ungrateful people, so I'll stop this list right here now that I've vented my current frustrations!

Top Thanksgiving Day Quotes

The below are direct quotes from a festive Gall/Egolf/Karpick family get-together...

Aunt Beeba - "Why did he get so old?" Steve - "Because he didn't die when he was twenty."

"Why is everyone looking at me?" - Me, right before getting whip cream sprayed all over my face.

"Lola, come here!" - My dad after getting sprayed with whip cream when he fell asleep on the floor, but he didn't feel like getting up to wipe it off so he figured the dog could just lick it off his face. Luckily, the dog was asleep too and didn't catch on.

"You know, the elderly are the fastest growing population infected with sexually transmitted diseases." - Christine

"Okay, I have to go out and buy one of these now." - Grandma Dottie after trying, and failing, to figure out what Uncle Dick's iTouch is and how it works.

"He told me he didn't love her anymore and I sad 'Get over it!'" - Aunt Beeba describing her eldest son's divorce.

"You've been coasting for the last 40 years of your life!" - Cathy to her brother Pat

Cathy - "Do you talk to your dad before and after sex?"

Me, after the above quote: "Ok, this is officially the weirdest Thanksgiving ever!"

NCAA's from a differnt view

"Running to him was real, the way he did it the realest thing he knew. It was all joy and woe, hard as diamond; it made him weary beyond comprehension. But it also made him free."
~John L. Parker, Once a Runner

I have watched, and not run in, the NCAA Cross Country Championship before, fall of 2003 when I red-shirted to be exact. But this was the first time I had watched from outside the white lines since completing my eligibility and it was almost surreal. Ever since I started running competitively, I've had this reoccurring nightmare that I am at a race yet someone convinces me I have plenty of time before the start and I always end up missing the start. That is what I felt like today, as if I was supposed to be racing when the gun went off, yet I was standing there in my corduroy khakis and night-life Brooks officials jacket manning gate number 35. My heart pounded and I felt the adrenaline surge during the eerie silence right before Lee Aldridge shot his starter's gun, just as it had the past four NCAA Championships at Terre Haute.

Besides the ghosts of races past constantly filtering through my thoughts, the races were great to watch. The pure guts battle between Rupp of Oregon and McDougal of Liberty, with McDougal squeaking out the victory with one final surge, made me get booty-lock just by watching. On the women's side, Kipyego handily beat a good field, yet I couldn't help thinking that I would've been top 5 in that race. I also found myself wondering what it would have been like to be on an NCAA Championship team. Katie Harrington is from Indiana, just like me, and she has multiple championship rings. Alas, there is no way to change the past and there are too many good things that have happened to me, and good lessons learned, at Indiana to ever wish I would have gone somewhere else. So the trick for me is to not wallow in the shortcomings of the past and instead live in the moment.

This evening I encountered the opposite mental dilemma while finishing my run in the dark. Instead of watching my steps like I should have been to avoid possibly breaking an ankle, I was blissfully planning the vagaries of my distant future. No one will argue that planning is a bad idea; however, I think I too often get caught up on what will be and don't spend enough time enjoying what is. Today was a good reminder to not vacillate between the past and future as much as make the most of the present. Many people say that, and many people have said it to me, but it really does take forceful thought to not wallow in the "woulda shoulda coulda" and "gonna" that can be an easy escape from today's realities.

Good to be a Hoosier

This was a very good weekend to be a Hoosier. I admit, I am a convert. My dad claims my first word was "Purdue," (I remain skeptical about the veracity of that) and I grew up in West Lafayette. When people ask me why I came to IU I usually reply with the cliche "I saw the light." Nonetheless, my background gives me a unique perspective on this rivalry and I often feel sympathetic to both sides.

I started Saturday started off by wandering around various tailgates, first stopping by an IU one to say hi to Blake, then off to meet my dad and his Purdue friends. As these particular people always do, they begged me to go eat something because they think I'm too thin, and then shoved a beer in my hand because they think I don't drink enough. In my humble opinion, I believe when they look at me they realize they are a bit on the heavy side and should perhaps lay off the liquor every once in awhile. They also tried to get me to drink this liquor out of a paper bag called "Hot Damn." It wasn't that I was adverse to drinking the liquor, it was the fact that everyone at that tailgate had drank out of the exact same bottle, gross! At least with Sink-the Biz things kind of get "washed off" in the bucket of beer, but straight from the same bottle is just too much for this germaphobe to handle.

After my mandatory meal and drink, we threw the football around for awhile, which prompted my dad to apologize to the others, "yeah, she may be fast, but her sister's the one with the coordination." Thanks Pops. Whenever Purdue fans would walk by they would exchange greetings of "Boiler up!" I got sick of this and finally offered my own rebuttal, "Boiler up yours!" Ah, good old fashioned trash talking! Since I'm too chicken to do it in my own sport, I thoroughly enjoy doing it during other ones.

Finally it was game time and Dad and I made it to our seats in the very left hand corner of the first row of the South end zone that I bought at the last minute Friday morning before the game sold out. Although we couldn't really tell what was going on at the other end of the field or how many yards till the first down, it was actually a neat perspective on the game. It gave me a better appreciation for how the sport moves from the players' point-of-view. In the second half, Eric Gordon (IU basketball freshman phenom) sat behind us, and graciously signed various items for the fans that recognized him. The worse part of the game was that once the sun went down I had to constantly jump around and breath into my sleeves to stay warm; I was definitely not as prepared as I should have been.

The Hoosiers built a big lead in the first half then struggled in the second. It came down to an IU field goal, which kicker Austin Starr gave just enough umph to get it over the cross bar into our end zone. As I often do, I got overly excited and nearly fell off the bleachers jumping up and down in celebration, but it was just so exciting! Once the clock finally ran out, students stormed the field and everyone in the stadium, Hoosier or Boiler, could tell that Terry Hoeppner was smiling from up above. My dad gave me a high five and was unusually optimistic; clearly, my conversion has softened him a little. He even revealed that he was wearing an IU Track & Field t-shirt below his multiple layers of Purdue gear. Alas, his lucky Mike Alstott-signed hat was not enough as IU won it's first Old Oaken Bucket game in 6 years and paved its way to "Play 13," Coach Hep's old rally cry.

Things got even better in the IU-Purdue rivalry for me on Sunday. Earlier my dad had been bragging that he was going to Texas in two weeks to visit his girlfriend and watch the Purdue women's soccer team play in the NCAA Final Four at Texas A & M. I reminded him that they had to play IU first, but he pretty much ignored that comment. Well, IU won in penalty kicks to advance to the Sweet Sixteen for the first time in school history! The IU men's basketball team also demolished no-name Longwood Sunday afternoon, and I saw Eric Gordon at the Applebee's by the mall, apparently going to celebratory meal with his family. Two times in two days I was in close proximity with someone who will likely be a pro star this time next year, maybe some of his magic will rub off on me and my pick-up game will improve a little, ha...

For a kid who grew up selling programs at Purdue games and alternating different Purdue t-shirts to wear to school, occasionally my Hoosier pride seems a bit unnatural. After this weekend, though, I know for sure I have fully converted; "Our Indiana" is also my Indiana.

Hello

I was laying in bed last night trying to fall asleep, but, as usual, random thoughts kept preempting my dreams. It is as if when I am in a horizontal position gravity no longer prevents such thoughts from flowing into my brain. While I doubt many people will ever read any of my ramblings here, I figured writing out these musings of mine might help get them out of my system. This blog is a sort of intellectual exorcism that I hope will let me sleep a little easier at night. So, here goes nothing...