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!