Good thing I wasn't there to PR

This past weekend was the Nike Women's Marathon and Half Marathon. I, of course, ran the half since the mere notion of running full marathon makes my sphincter clench in trepidation. Here is a picture of the Tiffany necklace that serves as a medal.

Not too shabby!

The one thing I really like about this race was how few people were terribly concerned with running a PR. How do I know this? Because most of them stopped at each mile marker, each funny sign, every lookout, and took their photo.

I spent most of the race considering the idea of signing up for Ironman Whistler. What I came up with is "yes" I think I am ready to take that on for the year I turn 40. Sign up is this Thursday at noon, so I have a little less than two days to either come to my senses or bite the bullet and take on a new challenge.

The Illusion of Safety

Recent events have caused me to reflect on how cavalier I can be about my safety. Whether it is benign day-to-day activities such as pumping gas late at night on my way home from class, or running alone in Forest Park, I tend to feel insulated from harm with the thought “that doesn’t happen here” always going through my mind. I’m sure Sherry Arnold felt the same.

Sherry went out for her usual Saturday run last week in the small town of Sidney, Montana where I’m sure she never felt unsafe. But that Saturday run was to be her last. Missing since 6:30 a.m. last Saturday Sherry’s body was found today. While no information has been released as to what actually happened to Sherry this obviously raises the question of personal safety. It is my hope that Sherry didn't suffer, and instead was the victim of a hit-and-run car accident covered up by barbaric humans with no regard for decency rather than some nefarious activity.

Regardless of what happened, the security blanket that cloaked the people and rural town of Sidney has been yanked away to expose them to the violence and fear many of them could not imagine happening in their town. I know what it feels like to feel protected in a small town. I grew up in a town of fewer than 600 people, and moved to a town of about 10,000 before moving to Seattle when I was a sophomore. Never could I have imagined such a crime happening in the two small towns I lived in, and maybe that is what keeps me from being more diligent now.

Sure, I tend to the side of paranoia with my safety at home, but when I am out running or biking I rarely consider it. Never could I have imagined what happened to Sherry, and my heart breaks thinking of her. My heart breaks at the thought of how the simple act of a long run, something I’m sure brought bliss to her life, ended in her death. My heart breaks thinking of how it could easily be anyone I know, including me, instead of her.

This story has forced me to reexamine what I do. My sweetheart bought me Mace specifically designed for runners (meaning it is small and has a strap that goes around your hand) for Christmas. At the time I appreciated his concern for my safety, and while it can be annoying to run with for more than a few miles, I think that minor nuisance is far less of a bother than other possible consequences. I encourage women who run alone, whether it is one mile or 20, to invest in something similar. I’m sure your husbands, partners, boyfriends, girlfriends, and family will appreciate it. I’ve seen similar Mace items at every running store in Portland, so I’m sure it is in your town, too.

I have followed this story closely through the blog Shut up and Run, whose author is Sherry’s cousin, and other media outlets, hoping for good news to break any minute. That good news will never come. While I never met Sherry, it appears as though she was a much loved teacher, a great mother and wife, and a woman with a generous soul. Clearly a human we need more of on this earth.

My Mom's Going to Kick my Ass for This.

Here we go again. As cliche as it sounds this year went by quickly. Damn.

It's already January 3, which means I need to decide what my resolution will be for the new year. Last year it was pretty lame, to do a race a month. Even my mother could have kept that resolution. Now, the only reason I use my mother as comparison is because A) She isn't a runner, but does do Jazzercise like 30 times a week so she's in shape, B) She's more than 70 years old (she may kill me for saying that, but she looks better than most 60 year old women I know and some 50 year old women, so I like to boast), and C) She hates running and wouldn't run if being chased by a momma grizzly bear. With that said I need to up the ante for 2012.

That's me and my mom. Photo by the lovely and talented Ali Walker of Aliwalker.com.

Now the idea of upping the ante during the last year of classes and beginning my prelims for my dissertation is probably upping the insanity more than anything, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I am positive I will be sorry for this later simply for the purposes of lack of time and dwindling sanity. 

For our New Year's Eve tradition or running First Run this year I felt terrible. I had been sick for all of Christmas vacation (two weeks), and had run a grand total of once during vacation yet I PR'd. Really? PR? I think I owe it to Amy D. who I ran with. I figure she paced me even after she took a header about mile 1.5, but like a champion she got up and continued skinned knees, elbows, hands, and all, so thanks Amy. But that sets the bar higher. My resolution this year is to PR the 5K, 10K, and half marathon. 

Tricia and I make a handsome pair on New Years, don't you think?

I have a few races already on the schedule, and they are as follows:
March: Shamrock Run (free beer and chowder on a Sunday morning, uh yeah)
May: Bloomsday and the Inaugural Portland Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon
June: Vancouver USA half marathon 


I had better get my rear in gear, shit can the excuses, and tighten up the laces. Cheers to 2012.

Resolution Completed

I am pro at starting things, but I am not such a pro at always seeing them to fruition. I get bored easily, so to do something for an entire year is a big step. My New Year’s resolution for 2011 was to run at least one race per month. The races didn’t have to be running races only. They could be triathlons or adventure races that included running, too. In some months I ran more than one race, and on two occasions I nearly didn’t get the race in until the last weekend of the month. Below is the rundown of the 12 races I did in order as part of my resolution, and accompanying each race is one word to describe my impression of the race. The accompanying photo is of my favorite medal from the year. The medal is from the Moses Lake triathlon and is made from stamped pottery--loved the creativity of it for sure. 

Here are the races:

First Run: Tradition

Run for Chocolate: Snowy

Shamrock Run: Beer

Wahine Half Marathon: Hawaii!

Hippie Chick: Crowded
Moses Lake Triathlon: Homey

Great Northwest Mountain Run: Steep

Hood to Coast: Blast

Pints to Pasta: Mediocre

Hybrid Adventure Games: Potential

West Linn Turkey Trot: Hung-over

Ho Ho 5K: Next???

Hood to Coast 2012

It's official. Welcome Back Trotters (and the sweaty hogs) will be running Hood to Coast this year. This year's team is made up of teachers from the high school I teach at and two teachers from a middle school in our district. I am more excited this year than last since I know what to expect, and I know that in order to a better job this time around I'm going to need to keep my training consistent. Luckily, I have some partners in crime to help me along the way. 

Three friends from work and I have started the Schadenfreude Running Club so we can revel in the misery of one another. Our plan is to run twice a week and do core work once a week. So far. So good. Stay tuned.

Hood to Coast Time

Tomorrow is my first foray into the phenomenon known as Hood to Coast. I think I should be far more worried about the 30 hours the organizers believe it will take for my team to finish the 200 miles than I am. I have heard many stories of how miserable the vans are, how impossible it is to sleep until you cross the finish line, how smelly your seat mate will be by leg two, the seven miles at 1 a.m. in the middle of nowhere complete with strange animal sounds emerging from the bushes, how sore I’ll be once I feel the sand under my feet in Seaside—you get the idea. Even through all these tales of HTC horror, I sit here in my curriculum design class tonight reminded of the feeling I used to get the night before my first day of school, but the difference is this time I am excited for the adventure tomorrow opposed to dreading the next 180 days.

While I should have trained more (okay, a hell of a lot more, but let’s not dwell on those things we cannot change) I think I am partially ready to run my 17 miles. It is estimated I will start my first leg around 10:30 a.m. running downhill Rhododendron; my second leg at 8:45 p.m. along a long, boring, and very busy highway 30; and my last leg at 7 a.m. out of Jewell. In my mind I picture my run out of Jewell being a peaceful scene with a mist suspended just above green pastures filled with sleepy horses munching on dewy grass. The horses will raise their heads to watch me gracefully trot past them, quietly The reality, I imagine, will be a tired, gnarled, and peeved Heather bribing people with money and the hopes of sainthood to run my last leg. Regardless, I am looking forward to a cold beer and icing my tired legs in the Pacific Ocean around 4 p.m. on Saturday.

Wish me luck.

Isn't it Ironic?

Or, much like Alanis Morissette's hit from my college days Ironic, is it just bad luck and not irony at all?

The day after I decide to try wearing less in the running shoe department I put a gnarly gash in my right foot from my bike trainer, and then today I jam the big toe on the other foot playing kickball. It may be a day or two before I get to try this whole new minimalist running thing after all. Meh.