This is the third interview with Joe Marruchella of Austin, Texas; the “Joe” of Joe Still Runs for Dom (you can find Parts One and Two on this site as well…).  Dom’s health declined rapidly in the past few months, and he recently passed away.  I caught up with Joe last week after he returned from the funeral, and we chatted about a variety of things.  Joe and I are friends on Dailymile.com, and I’m a regular visitor to his blog; this guy is one of the most active, passionate and compassionate people I’ve had the privilege of knowing.  He’s the real deal, folks!

Anyway, enough hoopla.  I asked him “what’s next” in terms of running and fundraising, and there are some surprising answers.  Read on…

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Lara: You were out of town a few weeks ago, at Dom’s funeral.  Dom D’Eramo lost his fight with cancer after battling for a year.  I know I’m using the words “fight” and “battle”, because he waged an all-out war against the disease that ultimately claimed his life.  You’ve put your heart and soul into honoring your friend.  Now that he’s gone, tell me what’s left…

Joe: You know Lara, I often wondered what it would be like if Dom didn’t win his fight with cancer.  I tried not to think about it too much, as there were a lot of times as recently as April, where it looked like Dom really had a great shot to beat this thing.  But the one thing I tried to remember is that this whole “Run for Dom” started out as a tiny idea, just a fleeting thought in my mind to honor our friendship and his fight by running for him and his family. Nine months later I was standing at the starting line of the Boston Marathon with his name on my shoes with more friends and supporters than I could count.  So I kept telling myself that I could not possibly know where we would be if it all ended some day, but that when I got there I would know what to do.

And sure enough, that’s exactly what has happened. I know that what I need to do, what I have to do, is keep running, writing, making friends and keeping Dom’s memory alive so that we can make sure that his two little ones not only have all of the benefits of an education that Dom would have provided, but that they also know that a lot of people loved their Daddy, and that he was an incredibly amazing man.

Lara: It sounds like your fundraising is taking a new direction.  You talk about providing an education for Dom’s kids; is there a new twist on the horizon?  Can people run and raise money for an education fund?

Joe: It sure has;  in about a week or so the fundraising site we created last year – www.runfordom.com will be re-launched under the same domain name.  I’ve spent the last week or so doing a design overhaul so I guess, technically, I could add “Webmaster” to my title(s).  We’ve opened two 529 Education accounts for Sierra (age 3) and Nico (age 1) D’Eramo and we will be running and racing to raise money for their educations.  The truly amazing thing is that other runners have asked if they too can “Run for Dom” – and they will be able to have their efforts linked through Run for Dom and money that they raise will go to the kids 529 plans.  Lastly, I am just now taking the first steps towards organizing an annual Run for Dom 5K run & walk on the anniversary of Dom’s passing back in his hometown.

I don’t know the first thing about being a race director.  But I know that there are a lot of people out there who do, and I am going to be working hard to find as much help and advice as I can to put on a first class event the second Saturday in August next summer.  I know Dom would shake his head, tell me I was crazy if he knew – but I also know he would think it was pretty damn cool.

Lara: It crossed my mind a few weeks ago when Dom’s health was deteriorating so rapidly, that an education fund would be a way to help Sierra and Nico, the kids that suddenly lost their Daddy.  Great minds think alike!

As for being a race director… Your passion for honoring Dom’s memory is opening a lot of doors and eyes to ways that people can connect to others in the community.  That’s what it’s all about, right?

Joe: I have been so touched by the runners who have reached out to me to ask if they could run for Dom.  A friend of mine that I met through Dailymile.com and the http://joerunfordom.wordpress.com/ blog will be raising money for the Education Funds with his first marathon, Chicago this fall.  He is truly amazing and said he will personally matching half of whatever donations he collects.  I’ve been repeatedly blown away by how much love and support Dom and his family has received.  The funny thing is, Dom was actually that guy that would do absolutely anything for you, without question.  That is why I am so passionate about telling his story.  He really was one of a kind.

I think you are exactly right regarding the 5K for Dom, Lara.  I don’t start out on too many things expecting to fail, but I have no idea how well attended the first couple Memorial Runs will be.  I’m hoping that we can start something that will be a great race and can hopefully help with Sierra and Nico’s college funds through any profits.  But no matter what, it will give all of us a reason to celebrate Dom’s life and his courageous battle every year and bring that community together in his honor.  The next year will fly by I’m sure – but I really can’t wait for that race day.

Lara: Will you be doing your own races this next year in Dom’s memory, as you did Boston and Pittsburgh a few months ago?  Or will you funnel all that energy into the Memorial 5K next August?

Joe: Oh no, I’ll be racing.  No doubt about that.  My next marathon will be the Austin Marathon on February 20, 2011.  Training starts October 18th.  So between now and then I have a couple of 10K’s, a half-marathon and a handful of 5K races on the books.  There’s actually a 5K this Saturday (August 28^th, 2010) as long as Baby Landry cooperates and doesn’t arrive early.  I’ll also be running two huge (40,000+ runners) 10K’s this Spring on consecutive weekends – so we’ll have another “double” on our race calendar as well.  I will focus fundraising however on the Austin Marathon where I’m going to chase another Boston Time.

Lara: You have a new baby about ready to join your household!  Do you think you’ll be able to keep up with all the races you have scheduled once you have an infant in the house?  How have you and your wife, Dawn, planned for the “baby” variable?

Joe: Well, I’m smart enough to know that I don’t know anything … so we’ll of course have to see how this all “shakes out” – but we’ve been able to work it out so Dawn will be home with the baby September, October and November, I’ll be staying home in December – so Landry won’t have to go to childcare until January 3rd or so.  I’m an early morning trainer as it is, usually out the door at 5 and back by 6:45 even on my long days, so we’ve worked out our tentative schedule that will give me my mornings to train (barring anything unforeseen), and I get baby time in the afternoon/early evenings.  Just about anything worthwhile has some pretty significant sacrifice involved, whether that is training, working, parenting, marriage etc. – we’ve always done a good job balancing those things for each other, and I’m hoping that continues.

Lara: It sounds like you and Dawn are pretty realistic about the unknown… you train and prepare as much as possible, and then just go with it and see what happens.  I’ll look forward to hearing about how parenthood adds another awesome layer to your already full, rich life.

Joe: I’ll tell you, I’ve had some pretty emotional finishes to marathons recently – but I’m betting that seeing that little girl at the finish of the Austin Marathon in February will be pretty special.

Lara: You know, for most people, having a kid makes them WANT to give back to someone else, ie their kids.  You’ve always had that instinct in your life though.  I don’t particularly have a point here, I’m just thinking about where you are in your own process of maturity, as compared to the “norm”.

Joe: You know what’s interesting Lara, is that I was actually reflecting this morning while going through my hill repeats… when you do things for the right reasons, because it simply is the “right” thing to do, not necessarily the easiest or the most convenient – there is almost nothing that you can’t accomplish.  I’ve tried to focus less on the results and more on the journey and I have not only been much happier, but I’ve ended up much more successful as well.  Not sure what my point is either – but I did find that interesting today.

Lara: I’m going to take a stab at this and say that’s one of the biggest lessons in life.  You have journeyed through a massive life lesson, so it’s pretty much second nature to you now.  Too often, people (and athletes in particular), focus on the end result, the goal of a particular time or place in their age group, and forget about the process that got them there.  Did they go into the journey mindfully?  Did they do it for the right reasons?  Were the reasons self-serving, or was there an aspect of altruism in there somewhere?  Athletes can be very single-minded and tend to focus on numbers and goals rather than the overall experience far too much.  I have been guilty of this at times, myself, so I think I’m qualified to make this statement.  And yet, we all find absolute joy in getting out of our heads and doing things for others, whether it’s race for charity, take time to help a fellow runner, or volunteer at an aid station so you can scream yourself hoarse while cheering on others.

Joe: I think you hit the nail on the head.  My father always used to say to me, “youth is wasted on the young” and I never had any idea what he was talking about.  Only now, over the last few years have I really “gotten it”.  He seems to get smarter and smarter the older I get.

Lara: Okay, you’re making me laugh!  Wise father, wise son… like recognizes like.  No wonder you and Dom saw into each other’s souls so easily.

Joe: One of the hardest things last week at Dom’s funeral (and there were a lot of hard things) was seeing Dom’s mother and father.  Dom was a “Jr.”, the oldest of three boys, and he was named after his father, Dominic Vincent D’Eramo, Sr.  As it’s so close to the birth of my first child – I really had a flood of things going through my mind last week.  But seeing the father bury the son was really tough.

Lara: Kids aren’t supposed to die before their parents.  We as parents aren’t supposed to bury our children, especially a child in the prime of his life.  How are his parents doing?  And Val, his wife?

Joe: The family was able to take Dom, the week before he passed away, on a trip to the Great Smoky Mountains.  They rented an RV, loaded everybody up and went away for a few days – and I think that time was really special for all of them.  Dom had been so very sick since July that I know that everyone who was close to the situation felt like Dom was suffering, in a lot of pain, and he now is truly in a better place.  That said, he was such a vibrant person, full of love, life, humor – he barely stood 5′ 7″ tall – but was larger than life.  His passing has created a huge vacuum in their lives that I know will be hard to fill.  The D’Eramo’s are a tight-knit family and Val and the kids have a lot of love and support in Pittsburgh.  In time I know they will all be fine – but we all miss our Dom.

Lara: How much money do you think was raised for Dom this past year?  The hospital bills must have been enormous.

Joe: The expenses that were involved with Dom’s treatment, procedures and his major surgery in November ran well into the hundreds of thousands of dollars out of pocket.  Through the two marathons we were able to raise $27,685 directly through Run for Dom.  There were other outright gifts that were made directly to Val and Dom as awareness spread and people in the community wanted to help.  Dom’s brothers also sold tickets for two large raffles that included a hotel stay, Penguins game, and dinner out on the town in Pittsburgh.  They raised more than $20,000 during each raffle as well.  So, a lot of good was done on behalf of Dom and the family, but there is still a long, long way to go on the fundraising side.

Lara: How can people contribute to Sierra and Nico’s 529 College Fund?

Joe: Checks can be made out to “College America” with Sierra or Nico D’Eramo’s name in the “For” line, and mailed to:

Northwestern Mutual Financial Network

5100 US Steel Tower

600 Grant Street

Pittsburgh PA 15219

Attention:  Mark Pellis

Lara: I think it’s amazing that so many people want to help Dom’s family, and that they’re running to raise funds to send two toddlers to college.  How can people get in touch with you about adding their marathon to the roster of fundraising efforts?

Joe: As I said before, I would love nothing more than to have other Athletes “Run for Dom” – nothing makes heavy lifting easier than another set of hands.  And we have quite a bit of lifting to do for those young children.

The best place to reach me directly is at:  joe-runfordom@austin.rr.com they can also visit the new www.runfordom.com in about a week or so, and there is a “contact us” page.  Anyone can submit a comment or question to me there at any time about Dom, the family, fundraising, training or racing.  It is one of the new enhancements to the site that I am very excited about.

Lara: Is the money tax-deductible?

Joe: Right now “Run for Dom” is not a 501c3 organization – so gifts to the family and or the 529 education plans are not tax deductible for residents outside of Pennsylvania as that is where the 529 plans have been opened.  For residents in PA, there are tax benefits and Mark Pellis at Northwestern Mutual can help with the appropriate documentation and forms.  I will also have a new “gift portal” on the new www.runfordom.com donation page that will make electronic gifts smooth and easy – much like we used Paypal last year.

When we have the 5K race logistics all set, my next big project will be to look into transitioning “Run for Dom” to 501c3 status.  That is a long journey – but nothing that this marathoner isn’t prepared for.

Lara: Joe, thanks so much for taking time to chat with me today.  I’m looking forward to following your training when it starts up again in October, and also hearing how your adventures in fatherhood are going!

Best from Colorado,

Lara

My first memory is sensory.  Up until the age of three, my family lived in the Pacific Northwest on Whidbey Island, in the middle of the Puget Sound.  I didn’t know that, back then.

I remember standing outside in the front yard of my house.  Everything was green; the leaves, grass, pine trees, and bushes.  And everything was wet.  Mist was all around, and my face and arms were wet.  The cool air had a scent that was different from my bathwater.  There was an outside smell that was bigger than my yard, bigger than the grass and bushes around me.  I loved the smell of a wetness so big it could surround all the houses and everything I saw.  I was completely happy, thrilled with the smell of rain going into my nose and expanding into my body.  I wanted it to never end, to always smell like that.

Tuesday’s run started and ended in the mist.  It had been raining all night but miraculously stopped at 6:30 AM, just as I was lacing up my shoes.  All that was left was mist, gentle water hanging in the air.

I left all technology at home and ran unencumbered.  The training schedule said I was to do 8 miles with 10x 100’s pick-ups.  I decided to do my favorite loop in Louisville, as a favorite loop combined with favorite smells is a total winner.

Heading up the street, I splashed in a few puddles on the sidewalk and was psyched there were no worms hanging out in the water.  I hate murdering worms.

The streets were deserted.  I crossed over onto the bike path and followed it to the top of the Mesa, approximately 250 feet of elevation gain.  I did a few pick-ups on the hills, just to shake things out and push my heart rate, feeling like a punky teenager prancing around with new-found freedom.

My rain jacket had to go.  I quickly tied it around my waist and set off on the deserted Mesa.  Davidson Mesa is a great 3-mile loop on the hill bordering Louisville and Boulder.  To the east lies Louisville, nestled in a snug little valley.  To the west is Boulder, sprawling in the long, narrow corridor that butts up against the Flatirons.  The clouds were low, the fine mist was dazzling, and I kept running.  The wide dirt track was wet enough to muffle the sound of my footsteps, but not soggy enough to pull at my shoes.  Perfect.

I easily navigated the single-track trail that veered to the right of the main section, and jumped rocks while the late-summer vegetation brushed against my ankles.  No pick-ups in this section; this was pure technical challenge and didn’t require additional speed.

After half a mile the single-track dumped me back onto the main trail.  I picked up speed and slowly counted 1…2… 3… until I got to 15, then slowed to a regular pace.  I have no idea how long it should really take me to run 100 meters, so I ballparked.  I’m like that.

And so it went.  Images of me cutting through mist like I was a cartoon character bursting through a paper wall filled my over-excited brain.  I had a big stupid grin on my face that didn’t wash off for the entire run, and I kept interjecting fast bursts of speed into the run.  As usual, I got faster the longer I ran, so by the time I came off the Mesa and started on the two mile descent to my house, I was running with 90% speed, faster than 5K race pace.  I did two pick-ups in mile 7, then slowed a little.

I ran for another 30 seconds and realized that my little heart desired only one thing in the entire world, and that was to run as fast as my mortal body would carry me down that hill.  There was already a good head of steam going, so I opened up the legs and let it all go until I was spent.  I ran like this for a good five blocks, feeling the groin muscles stretch and retract while my feet slapped the pavement.  The smell of fresh, fine mist was still giving me an olfactory high.  I wished that my long run could have been that morning, as there is nothing like running in a perfect Colorado mist in late August.  It’s a gift of the Gods, and believe me when I say that the gift was recognized, received, and thoroughly appreciated.  I LOVE the rain!!!

I’m two and a half weeks into the California International Marathon (CIM) training plan that the awesome Coach Gwen worked up.  Being a naive marathon-virgin, I announced I was going to try and qualify for Boston my first time out.  After looking at the training plan, I briefly considered bailing on the entire thing, writing COWARD on my forehead and not washing it off for 4 months.

After a few days of waffling I rallied and decided that since I’d already registered I would train for the marathon until someone or something told me to stop.  So there.

Here’s the first five weeks of the training plan Gwen worked up for me.   (I didn’t do the Medium Long 14 miler on 8/8 because I ran the Eldora 11k(ish) Trail Race that morning.)

In the first week alone my weekly miles doubled.  I went from running 2-4 days a week on a “whenever you get around to it” summer vacation mentality to running steadily 4 days a week for two weeks, and then increasing to 5 days a week after that.  My “long runs” increased from 8 miles to 14 miles within the first week.

Not that I’m whining.  Just sayin’.  The first week and a half my muscles talked a lot about the brutality they were being subjected to.  My hips were especially cranky about the entire thing, until they lived to tell the tale of the August 22 Long Run of 15 miles.  After that they settled down, decided that nothing they could say would make a difference, and stopped complaining.

Gwen and I talked extensively about my goal race pace, and the reality of a training plan.  I want to pull off a 3:30 marathon; she says it’s more realistic to shoot for 3:40 at this point in time.  Given that we’re less than three weeks into a 16-week training plan, this could change once we’ve built up some miles, but she’s building in some wiggle room for me.

I’m finding that I’m consistently below the suggested pace for most of the runs, and that even with the recovery runs I have to make a concerted effort to not run 8:30’s.  Thus, recovery runs are the bane of my existence because they don’t feel natural at all.  Gwen laughed really hard when I told her this and said that in October, I’ll be welcoming the chance to run slower a few times a week.  I log all my miles on Dailymile.com so I can’t really hide from Coach Gwen.  If you’re interested in seeing how things are going, stop by and get the unadulterated poop on my training.

That being said, here is a short list of Things That I Know, in no particular order:

Running slow on a recovery run is tons harder than running long or fast.

Running in heat sucks.

Humidity sucks worse.

Sometimes listening to music makes me scream.

Good shoes are essential.

Bonking is really bad.

Driving seven miles one way takes eons longer than running seven miles on the same road.  I hate driving.

If you don’t take a good poop before running, plan your route so that you can take a bathroom break about 1:10-1:25 (hours) into your long run.  I’m not explaining why.

Holding a water bottle messes up your upper-body rotation in mean, nasty ways.  Carry the thing on your body or don’t bring it at all.

It’s okay to stop sometimes and marvel at how far you can run.

It’s good to ask for foot rubs sometimes AFTER you’ve showered.

Pedicures are vital.

No one wants to hug you when you return from a two hour run.

Sometimes you have to mix it up.  A new trail, a new partner, new music (or lack thereof), new time of day, etc.

My marathon training plan has me doing easy “recovery runs” on Saturday in preparation for a long run on Sundays.  This is going to mess with my usual Saturday morning trail runs with the girls.  Tomorrow I’ll do my first 15-miler, and I wanted fresh legs.  Maybe in a few weeks when I’m more used to the distance I’ll pull in a trail run the day before a long Sunday run… but not this week.

Yesterday, while talking about my weekend running plan, I had a brilliant idea and asked Bill if he wanted to run an easy couple of miles with me.  “Sure,” he said, “but what about the kids?”

That’s easy.  Take them with us.  Bring the bikes and hit a flat trail.  Let them ride while we pull in an easy 10k.  Coffee afterwards.  When I proposed this, the kids were skeptical up until the coffee shop part.  “Can we get anything we want?” they asked.  My answer:  “Absolutely.  That’s the joy of getting up early and exercising.  Coffee afterwards.  Or hot chocolate.  Whatever you want.”

You probably already figured out where we went; Bobolink.  That simple little trail fits all the criteria.  We got the kids up at 6:30, loaded up their bikes, gave them each a banana, granola bar and bottle of water, and headed out.  The parking lot was almost full at 7:20 when we pulled in, but there was a space waiting for us.

B and I started off at an easy pace.  He’s been talking about running Bobolink as an introduction to a longer run (he typically runs 2-4 miles at a time) and the plan was for me to set the pace.  All he had to do was stick to me.

And so it went.  There were a few people out and everyone was full of smiles.  The temp was a cool 60 degrees and didn’t increase too much during the hour we were out.  I carried a water bottle and B brought along Clif Shot Bloks to munch when he needed a pick-me-up.

After about 3 miles a guy passed us, going the other way.  He was shirtless and wore a heart-rate monitor.  His pace was easy, though it was clear that he was running easy as a choice and not out of necessity.  B commented, “Wow.  You can tell that guy’s really fast and strong even though he’s not running fast right now.  I’d settle for being strong.”

Something about that comment irked me.  “You don’t have to settle for anything.  You just ARE.  Don’t try to put yourself in a box or trim off any corners to make yourself fit.  You are whatever you want to be.  Don’t settle.”

That’s what we get when we look at other people.  We compare ourselves to what we perceive the other person to be; whether or not it’s true is unimportant.

Connor cruised by just as we finished the run to the gate.  Sophie sat astride her bike eating her banana.  I paused the timer on my watch while I kissed my little girl all over her sweet face and B stretched for a minute.  Then I ceremoniously touched the gate, started the watch again, and headed into the bottom half of the inning.  We were in the second 5k of the run on a slight downhill with legs that were now fully awake (mine; Bill’s were getting a little tired), so we agreed to do a few pick-ups of 5 seconds each just to change up the tempo a bit.  I’ll admit to being a little coltish now and then; I get frisky in the morning air and like to express some inner joy at being alive in a beautiful place with people I love.  Call me crazy, but it works for me.

I bought two new pairs of shoes yesterday because my old ones have about 800 miles on them (I know, I know, don’t have a heart attack) and my left heel is absolutely bruised by the time I finish a run.  My new road shoes are Brooks, and they say “MoGo” on the side with a little circle around them.  I’m totally tickled by this and call them my Mo’ Go shoes… I’m going farther in them than I’ve ever gone before.  My other new shoes are trail runners, and I’m saving those beauts for later in the week when I hit a trail.

My feet felt great and there wasn’t any indication of a sore heel, so I picked up the pace a tad.  B seemed to be truckin’ right along; his breathing sounded good and he never faltered in his pace.  Once we reached the last mile I checked my watch for the pace; a solid 7:40/mile.  After a few more minutes I picked up the pace and dropped to a 7:00/mile, and told B to just stay with me and finish strong.  He did, we did, and the kids stood up and cheered when they saw us pull up.

We headed to Ozo afterwards and sat on the patio with our treats.  I sat in the shade of the umbrella with a huge, Cheshire Cat smile on my face as I watch my kids eat the whipped cream off their hot chocolates with their fingers.

My Saturday morning running group

My family finally joined me for a Saturday morning run.  They were part of MY world for three hours on a Saturday morning.  I shared a piece of my life with them and they had a great time.  It was a beautiful thing.

The 2010 La Sportiva Eldora 11K Trail Race turned into more of a 9-9.3K, rather than the expected 11K, though we still gained about 800’ in elevation throughout the course.  Runners didn’t find out about the change until two minutes before the starting gun went off.  Paul Karlssen, Race Director, expounded on the conditions and described the thigh-deep mud that covered a mile of the course.  Seeing as how hundreds of runners could do serious environmental damage if we all tried to navigate the muck, the best choice was to re-route the race and bypass the goo.

I met Juli, Beth and Kathy at the race instead of carpooling with them.  There were smiles and hugs all around, which helped keep us warm.  We’re used to 60-70 degree temps at that hour of the morning, but the 9000’ elevation lowered the temp to a solid 50 with a mild breeze.  I had originally planned on running in a tank top and shorts, but moments before we headed up the trail I ditched the tank top and re-pinned my race number to the front of my long-sleeve overshirt.  It was loose-fitting but I figured it would ward off the chill.

Bill and the kids headed to the outskirts of the racers so they wouldn’t be trampled.  Two seconds before the gun went off I heard “Go, Lara, Go!” and turned to wave at my family.  It was super-awesome having them there; at that moment, I could have worn the tank top and been perfectly warm.

Moments before the starting gun went off, I got a cheer from the fam. YAY!!

That being said, let’s back up to 18 hours before the race.  Saturday afternoon I did something super-scary; I told my husband exactly how I felt.  I was hurt that he didn’t seem interested in coming to my races and cheering.  Typically I register for a few races each year, less than a handful.  He waits for a signal of some sort that I want him there, and I wait to see if he seems interested in coming.  It’s a vicious cycle that has lead to resentment on my part, because I finally realized that he only came to a race if I told him I wanted him there, thus negating the gift of his presence.

In this new era of breaking out of old patterns, I told him how hurt I was that he didn’t seem interested in watching me race.  He listened and was so compassionate and apologetic; I knew that he never meant to belittle my racing or running life, but the hurt came from years of complacency.  We cleared a lot of air that afternoon and spoke some truths about the state of our relationship and how we need to continue talking about the deep, scary feelings that we tend to bury.  I may be strong in body, but I still have to work on strength in spirit if I want to gain any ground.

The starting gun went off at 7:30 sharp.  I was near the front pile of humanity so I’d have a fighting chance of getting in front of the slower people and not have to pass so many on a narrow single-track.  The first 0.6 miles was a steep, steady hill.  I wore my Garmin to track the time, knowing I’d lose signal occasionally due to terrain and wouldn’t have an accurate count on distance or pace.  My heart rate elevated quickly and didn’t come down until I passed through the finisher’s shoot.

Mirroring last year’s race, people sorted themselves out pretty quickly.  Hills are a rough way to start any race, and if you’re strong on hills you’ll be near the front of the pack.  I already knew that I wasn’t headed for a PR, so didn’t worry too much about pace.  Exertion would be my indicator of how fast I traveled, and I had made up my mind to just have a good time.

The sky was overcast and a cool breeze sifted through the forest from time to time.  I didn’t even wear my sunglasses, figuring that if the sun came out during the race I wouldn’t want them anyway because of the shadows.

Around mile 2 I heard voices up ahead, cheerful happy voices that came from people not running a race.  The first aid station was just ahead.  As I reached for a cup of water and slowed to drink a sip, a volunteered counting each person that came through said I was number 66.  Knowing there were a whole lot of men in front of me cooled my competitive juices a hair (I don’t worry too much about the men in the pack, just the women).  Just keep running, I told myself.  You’re doing just fine.

Moments later, I was winding down the mountain again.  The noise from the aid station faded and with all the twists and turns of the trail, I found myself keeping an eye on the closest runner, a guy out of reach and earshot. No one was running on my tail and I was suddenly… alone.

The easy breeze that rustled the treetops high above me broke the stillness of the mountain.  Birds chirped and the soft thud of my footsteps as my shoes fell on the squashy path.  I had the eerie feeling of being the last person in the race, as there was no noise behind me to change that impression.  My mind wandered from the immediacy of the event to a Zen little happy place I like to visit when I run, and I felt myself relax.  The self-imposed pressure of the race melted away and I was just a runner hanging out on a really cool trail on a cool Sunday morning.

My mellow lasted a few minutes, long enough for me to visit a few daydreams before finally hearing a heavy breather coming up from behind.  He idled about 10 yards behind me for a while, until finally I glanced over my shoulder to see who was struggling so hard.  It was a man, about my height, who carried his stooped shoulders with one side significantly higher than the other.  We played leap-frog for the next couple miles, with him passing me on the uphills and me passing him on the downs.  On the last big hill of the race he passed me once and for all.

And then, the moment of truth.  Paul the Race Director told us there was a section of deep water on the trail, and there was nothing to do but go through it.  Duly warned, I was glad to be wearing SmartWool socks inside my trail shoes.  They wouldn’t keep me dry, but they would keep blisters from forming while running in wet footwear.

The water was at the bottom of a steep hill.  I caught up to my friend Juli at the top of the hill and passed her coming down, which meant I got to the water first.  Juli slowed down, not sure how deep it was or how rocky the bottom would be.  Foolishly, I took my cue from the runners ahead of me and plowed forward with full gusto.  If you’re going to get wet, then you may as well go for it with your whole being.  No sense holding back, is my theory.

The water was up to my knees, and cool but not cold.  Luckily the bottom of the trail was relatively clear and I didn’t turn my foot.  The grasses growing nearby held the mud in place, and after 25 yards of a lovely little stream crossing, I was back on dry land.  My shoes squished for a few steps until I squished the excess water from them, and even though my feet were sopping wet, I was pretty darn comfortable.

Juli passed me on another hill and as we descended one last time, I heard cheers.  There were some pretty enthusiastic people at the finish line, and it made me smile.  The last crossing was a meadow that had no trail, so the best thing to do was follow the crushed grass that other runners had trampled and try to avoid rocks.  Volunteers stood at the opposite side of the meadow to point us in the right direction to the finish line, and after getting back on the dirt trail I cruised to the bottom.

Standing above the finish line were my people.  Sophie was screaming herself hoarse, yelling “YAY, MOMMY,” followed by girl-shrieks that hit a high soprano register.  Connor was yelling and using Bill’s phone to take a picture of me, and Bill used our camera to take another pic.  He had the biggest grin on his face and yelled encouragement for me as I finished the race.  Compared to them the other spectators were the walking dead.  My family was smiling and taking pictures, and screaming my name.  What an amazing, beautiful feeling.

Connor's pic of me on the iPhone... photographer in the making, perhaps?

Bill's picture on the Nikon camera... huge smile, really happy!!

A volunteer cut the timing chip from my shoe and after Bill handed me a bottle of water and I was released from a massive family bear hug, I hugged Juli.  She was tickled to have people cheering for her at the finish line too, and thanked Bill and the kids for being there.  We headed back to the finish and waited for Beth and Kathy to come around the corner, and took pictures and cheered like crazy for them as they ran the last 50 yards into the shoot.  They had huge smiles on their faces, too.  It’s really hard to not smile when people are yelling your name and screaming after you just did a crazy-hard trail race!

We headed over to a coffee shop and I peeled my wet shoes and socks from my feet, breathing a sigh as sunshine hit my tootsies.  It was a blissful way to spend Sunday morning, and I’m incredibly grateful to my kids and Bill for getting up at 5:30, driving to Nederland and hanging out at the base of a mountain while I ran myself silly.

P.S.  After all that, the stats feel like an afterthought.  I ran a 55:44 for the race and came in 7^th in my age-group.  Don’t know what my pace was because the exact distance is unknown due to the last-minute course changes.  It was probably between 9-9.3k overall, so an estimated 9:30-9:45 pace.

It’s official; I’m registered for the California International Marathon on December 5, 2010.  It’ll be my very first marathon ever!  The farthest I’ve ever run is fifteen miles, and that was over a year ago when I was training for my first Half.  I’ve even set a time goal for my first marathon; 3:40, which would qualify me for Boston on my first time out, which could be the biggest joke you’ve ever seen.  Then again, maybe it’s reasonable; my last Half-Marathon time was 1:42:30.  Double the time and add ten minutes for cushion puts me into the BQ range for my age group.

I’ve resisted marathons because the simple reality of the time it takes to train is hard to fit into (my) family life.  Half-marathon distances seem to work really well for my training schedule and overall life balance.  I run 3-4 times a week during a typical week; a few hills or tempo runs during the week and a trail run on Saturday.  Marathons?  I might have just pushed things over the edge.

And yet, that’s literally what I set out to do.  I’ve been wrestling with some huge life/family/balance issues for many months, and recently came back to a truth that’s been running rampant through my brain in a dervishly chaotic dance: I keep getting what I’ve got because I keep doing the same things.  I’ve gotten complacent in my training because I reached a goal and then didn’t push any further.  I don’t have a job that I’m passionate about because I haven’t put myself out there and made it happen.  I don’t travel like I want to because I haven’t gotten creative and figured out how to make it happen on a budget.  I’m in the rut that I’m in because I haven’t climbed out of my hole.  So.  I’m trying to shake things up in my personal life and am setting goals for myself that have nothing to do with athletics, but in a weird, wrap-your-brain-around-this-one sort of way, this goal feels the most attainable.  And in a completely metaphysical sort of way I hope that by embarking on this goal, I’ll re-wire my brain into seeing the possibilities of life, rather than self-imposed limitations.

There’s always a person who suggests that you have so much more potential than you’re living.  At this point in my life, that person is a friend that I met my first year in college, almost 20 years ago.  Gwen’s a few years older than me, though we were both in the Technical Theatre program at the University of Northern Colorado.  I aspired to be the amazing Stage Manager that she was, and she took me under her wing.  She taught me everything I knew about organization, Stage Management and project management, as well as how to relax afterwards.  She showed me how to keep it real while still commanding the best out of the entire crew.  Now, she lives in Ashland and is a Stage Manager at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.  She turned into a fantastic athlete after college and is training for her umpteenth Ironman in Arizona this year.  Gwen taught me how to make the meanest margarita this side of Texas, stood up as a bridesmaid at my wedding thirteen years ago, and now she’s creating a training plan to get me qualified for Boston in four months’ time.

I stopped doing theatre thirteen years ago, when I got married.  I was a Stagehand working for the local Union, and my finance was an Assistant Stage Manager at a neighboring theatre.  We looked at the trajectory of our lives and realized that we didn’t want to raise a family with the lifestyle of show calls, tech weeks and grunt work.  We wanted financial stability and planned vacations during holidays.  So we jumped ship and moved to the mountains to start an Internet Service Provider with my former Technical Director from college.  We were self-taught computer people.  I learned HTML and became a web designer.  Bill became the frontman of the business, going out and hooking people’s computer up to the Internet.  A few years later our daughter was born, and I stopped working.  Bill took a new job with a company in town, and a few years after that our son was born.

Around this time we looked around and took stock of our situation.  We were living in a ski resort town on one income.  Education choices were limited for our kids, and employment opportunities were sparse.  We decided to move back to the Front Range of Colorado to be closer to the opportunities a larger urban setting has to offer, as well as to be closer to my family.

I went back to school and started working toward a Masters of Applied Science in Environmental Policy and Management.  Bill worked at a few places before finally taking the leap and buying his own computer business.  We shopped around, chose a preschool for our daughter, and started trying to rebuild our lives.

Once our son started preschool we realized he had sensory integration issues, and I immersed myself in learning everything I could about child development, sensory integration and core muscle strength in young children.  He had severe allergies and certain foods made it worse.  Instead of looking for a job, I focused on my children.

Fast forward to the present.  Our daughter is entering 5^th grade, our son is entering 2^nd grade, and I’m done with my Master’s.  My baby birds have been pushed out of the nest and are starting to be more self-sufficient.  I want a job that utilizes my research, writing and social media skills, and be with a company or organization that is Environmentally Policy or Sustainability-based.  I love working with people but I’m not a sales person.  I don’t know much about marketing or advertising, but I know a lot about how to organize projects and people, and how to meet a deadline.  I’m creative, focused, detail oriented, passionate about healthy and sustainable living, and I love a challenge.

I’ve done a lot of living and seen a lot of things.  I’ve done a lot of soul searching and know that I’ve reached a turning point in my life.  It’s time for me to take a leap of faith and see what else there is in store for me.  I haven’t worked outside the home in years, and I’m chomping at the bit to see what I’m made of.  I haven’t run a Marathon, and I’m ready to start training.  I did some traveling this summer, and I’m hooked.  I’m more capable, competent and ready than I thought I was.  Bring it on, life.  I’m ready for the next adventure!

This is a quick update on a few things going on, just to keep current!

1.  RACES!!!  I’m in the mood to race, and am succumbing to peer pressure.  My dear friend Gwen keeps saying “Boston is in your future”.  I never really had the urge to run Boston, but maybe, just maybe, I could qualify and then do it?  A bucket-list sort of mentality, at the very least.  That being said, to qualify for Boston means I need to run my FIRST EVER MARATHON.  That’s right, folks, Lara’s longest races have been Half’s.  I’m thinking of making the California International Marathon (CIM) my maiden voyage.  Gwen ran CIM last year and tried to talk me into it.  Last year I wasn’t ready, but this year? I’m ready to give it a shot!  Question:  what’s your favorite method for training for a marathon?  Who has the best tips?  I’m open to all suggestions!

2.  I just registered for the LaSportiva Eldora 11K Trail Race, held in Eldora, CO on August 8.  That’s in a week and a half.  Those of you following this blog know that I’m just coming back from a long vacation and the flu, which means my endurance and strength is pretty low.  I’ve had a few good runs this week, but don’t have any illusions that I’ll be PR’ing at this race.  I’m going to have a good time, and that’s about it.  Is anyone else running this race next weekend?  Come on, it’ll be fun!

3.  I’d like to do a Half in September, and am thinking about the Boulder Backroads Half Marathon on September 12.  It’s pricey for a Half, which might actually make me look elsewhere for a more reasonable race.  I’ve heard this race is great, but $80 for a Half?  Yikes.  Do you know of an awesome Half in September somewhere in the Colorado area that’s under $50?  If so, PLEASE tell me about it!

4.  I’ve been working with a nutritionist/acupuncturist on my chronic digestive issues.  I’m cautiously optimistic that she has recognized some pieces in the puzzle, and that the supplements and treatments will actually make things improve.  She says that if this works, I should actually have more energy within a few weeks, and a ton more in 4-6 weeks.  This is huge.  Will add more to this later, when I have something concrete to report.

5.  I gained about 3 pounds this past month, and feel incredibly flabby.  There’s a roll that hangs out over my bikini bottom now, and I’m incredibly self-conscious about it.  Here’s the funny thing though; when I complained about it to my husband, he didn’t have any idea what I was talking about.  He LIKES the softness of my belly, and what makes me cringe is actually something that is desirable.  I’m still a little flummoxed by this difference in perception between us, and need to think on this some more.  Men and women, what’s your perspective on a little belly softness in an athletic woman?

Okay, that’s all I’ve got right now.  I have to go look at a bug house my daughter made out of sticks and bark.  See ya this weekend after my Saturday morning run!

Sixty parts of an hour.  Lots of activities can get squeezed into sixty minutes.  I can pound out a medium-length run, dry a load of laundry, give the house a good once-over before company arrives, do a few errands while my kid is at basketball practice, get a massage, have a good sit-down dinner with the family, or see a therapist to delve into the mysteries of my soul.  I can kill an hour in a running store trying on shoes or having my stride examined, fit in a spin class at the gym, sweat through Pilates, get zen through yoga, have a good chat with a friend or read a few chapters before bed.  Sixty minutes is an hour, a small piece of my day that is like an afternoon snack.  It’s important, yes, but isn’t the main course.

I ran sixty minutes today, the first run in a week due to a nasty flu that blind-sided me right after I got home from a 3-week road trip.  When I got the weekly email on Thursday announcing today’s 10-mile Saturday morning run, I immediately bowed out and congratulated myself on being smart enough to know my limitations.  Instead of running with the ladies, I planned an easy solo run on Bobolink trail with my iPod.  This would be a recovery run and I didn’t want any self-imposed pressure on pace or distance; I wanted to be able to stop when necessary and check in with my body to see how it felt.

I arrived at Bobolink a few minutes before 7 AM.  The parking lot was empty, save for two other early birds already on the trail.  Taking a last swig of water, I powered up the Garmin, pushed play on the iPod, and tucked the car key into the zippered pocket of my shorts.

Mile 1:  A high layer of clouds blocked the early morning light.  I started slowly, a snail’s pace.  I was startled to see the numbers on the Garmin land on 11:30 per mile.  After a minute or two I checked the numbers again; I was down to 11:25 per mile.  The last time I clocked an 11-minute pace, I was dodging rocks while running uphill at altitude.   Crazy how a small bug, invisible to the naked eye, can take four minutes off my usual pace in the span of a week.

South Boulder Creek, running next to Bobolink Trail.

Uneven breath and no rhythm.  The feet on the end of my legs didn’t act like my own.  Trying to settle into something resembling a runner’s posture, I waggled my hands, shrugged my shoulders and tried to notice the beautiful creek next to me.

Mile 2:  My feet felt like they were slogging through quicksand.  “Dear God, if you see my legs, could you send them back?  I miss them.” This was a mental shout-out to God, figuring if He happens to see the runner legs that used to be attached to this body, He’ll knows where to send them.

The trail dipped slightly and gravity pulled me along.  The pace reading on the Garmin fluctuated before settling into a sedate 10-minute mile.  Okay, I guess this is all I have today.  Well, at least I’m out here.  Hope I make it to the gate; this is going to be a long run. Crossing over South Boulder Road to the south end of the trail, I was surprised to see unbroken sections where weeds and prairie grasses grew over six-feet tall.  The cows that usually decorate the fields were noticeably absent.  My hip ached and sudden twinges behind the IT Band on my right leg kept my brain occupied.   I paused to take a few pictures and decided not to look at the display for a while.  I didn’t see the lap pace at the end of mile 2.

Looking west toward the Flatirons next to a newly mowed field.

Mile 3: The music in my ears was a total crutch.  I don’t know if I would have had the fortitude to keep going without it, as my run was so obviously sucking.  Stopping after the long bridge for a minute, I did a few stretches and rubbed my knee, knowing it was the tight right glute that was messing with the other muscles.  I toyed with the idea of turning around at the beginning of Mile 3, then dismissed it.  I would put in the miles.  The Garmin rolled over to a new lap and informed me that my pace for Mile 3 was a whopping 9:50/mile.

Mile 4:  Stopping again to take a picture, I finally made it to the gate, gave it a cursory sweep with my fingertips, and jogged back the way I had just come, glad that I was on the downhill side of the clock.

The sun is starting to emerge and offered nice backlighting for a group of thistles.

I lifted my hand to wave as several groups of runners passed on their way to the gate.  The dirt was dry and dusty, a breeze was blowing, and a trickle of sweat fell into my open mouth before I could wipe it away.  Momentarily distracted by the salty taste of my own sweat, I was completely amused by the sensation of rivulets coursing down cheeks when suddenly it hit me: I don’t hurt anymore!  I glanced at the Garmin and noted the distance– 3.9 miles.  It had taken almost four complete miles for my body to remember how to get into the groove of running.  I almost danced with joy, but let my legs celebrate in their own way.

Mile 5:  The sudden strength in my legs was a salve so complete that a smile split my face wide open.  This is me, I thought.  This is what I was looking for. The twinge in my knee was gone.  My feet remembered how to step and lift, my shoulders were rotating with actual strength now, and my hip didn’t ache at all.  I did a quick mental probe and found that there was indeed still some tightness in the glute, but it felt more like an invisible hand applying pressure on a sore spot than a red-hot burning like before.  I’ll take pressure over burning any day.  Checking the Garmin every few minutes, I noticed the pace numbers decrease into the 8-minute range, and once it even dipped and hit 7:50 per mile.  More and more people were passing me on their way to the gate, and it wasn’t hard to offer a cheery “Hi” or a wave.  I didn’t hurt anymore.  Mile 5- 8:40/mile.

Mile 6:  It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t crossed over South Boulder Road, which meant that there was still almost two miles to go.  A quick mental check assured me the body was still in good shape.  I kept up the pace and even let myself push a little harder when it felt right.  The mile passed more quickly, and I said a mental Ha! when I finally hit the pace that carried me through my first Half-Marathon two years ago.  Mile 6- 8:08/mile.

The last .7 mile to the trailhead was easy, and I cruised back to the car.  My legs still felt good and my mind was clear.  The fog that had trapped me in slow-motion was gone.  I didn’t have to work hard to pull the pace into the 7-minute range, and when I punched the Stop button at the end I laughed.

I had just run for sixty minutes.  Sixty minutes ago I could barely lift my legs.  My knee hurt, my hip ached, and I couldn’t find a rhythm.  I couldn’t find ME in the mess of a body that had just exorcised a viral demon.  I was hesitant, unsure, scared of pain and withdrawn.  Now, sixty minutes later, I was ready to do battle; sure of my strength, purpose, passion, ability to take a hit and get back up again.

I don’t know of any therapist that, in the span of sixty minutes, could have unraveled the drama, anxiety and pain that had taken root in my head and body.  Thankfully, I can run.  I found the space and time to push through the mental and physical pains that were festering, and waited them out.  We did a little dance to see who would be the victor in this contest.  I won.

The road trip is officially over; I’ve been home since Thursday.  I ran my easy 4.5 mile loop on Friday and met the ladies for our Saturday morning run the next day at Chautauqua, but noticed how pooped I was.  I didn’t even make it to the Radio Tower at the end of the trail on Saturday because of a general sense of fatigue.  I couldn’t figure it out, but chalked it all up to “Road Trip” and decided that a few hours of yoga would put all my aches to right again.

Fast forward to Monday morning, and perspective has changed.  It turns out I had a mild flu bug.  I napped on Saturday and slept most of Sunday, interspersed with guzzling water and Tylenol for the body aches.  My temperature spiked a few times, but returned to normal within a few hours.

It’s times like these that I give thanks for the strength of my body.  I can’t run today, and could barely walk yesterday due to the stiffness.  I slept in spurts last night, moaning when I had to turn my head because of the soreness in my neck.  This wasn’t health in any sense of the word, but I realize that many people live with this sort of pain, and worse, every day of their lives.  I am truly thankful for the relative health of my body and the fact that it can get up most days and put in a solid day of activity according to my whim.

No running for this girl, at least for another day or so.  Since it’s quiet at the moment, the kids are at camp and I’m parked on the couch, here are a few memorable pics from the road trip.

Arrowhead! Found this in the field just below the house. Indians have been in this valley for thousands of years; this one is about 5,000 yrs old.

Saturday morning run on the farm. The woods are dense in West Virgina, and the sun was struggling to penetrate the leaves.

Love the ferns!

The speed limit sign is a piece of humor, as it's parked on a 4-wheel trail on the farm. I thought it was funny to see the outhouse behind the sign; a little "then-and-now" collage.

The massive tree outside Monticello (Thomas Jefferson's house). We visited on the hottest day of the year in 98% humidity.

We visited Seneca Caverns, truly worth seeing!

The kids and I rode the Old Greenbriar Trail, a "rails to trail" that follows the Greenbriar River. When we got hot, we just put down the bikes and waded into the water.

I’ve been on the road for almost two weeks, traveling with my two kids in our trusty Dodge Durango with three bikes hooked to the back.  We left Colorado at the end of June and are currently parked in West Virginia, in the shadows of the National Radio Astronomy Observatory.  The area we’re in is called “the quiet zone”; no radio towers, cell phone towers, television, etc.  Even my computer decided to quit on me.  No Internet, cell phone coverage, radio or TV to distract us.  It’s quiet here all right, save for the traffic that roars down the one road in the valley just outside the bedroom window.

Family circumstances being what they are, I am visiting my Dad’s farm for the first time in seventeen years.  I was here the first year he owned the place, eighteen years ago, and haven’t been back since.  Back then, I hunted for arrowheads in freshly plowed rows, and found enough flint to overflow a shoebox.  The kids and I have found a few arrowheads this past week (they’re really spearheads, arrowheads are smaller) and about a pound of flint chips, but nothing like the haul that’s sitting on a shelf in my closet back home.

Back then, I wasn’t a runner.  I toured the place on an ATV and most likely went too fast on the machine.  In the space between my visits, a kid sent one of the ATV’s over a 50-foot embankment and landed in the hospital with a concussion.  The remaining ATV’s are gone now, and have been replaced with a solitary John Deere golf-cart machine called “The Gator”.  It’s a lot more stable and doesn’t have the get-up-and-go of its predecessor. My kids don’t know the difference, but I sure do.

Now that I’ve hit the prime of my life, I’m touring the place on foot.  There’s almost 1800 acres to explore, and I like a challenge.

Every other day I’ve laced up my running shoes and headed into the woods.  There’s a great lollipop loop that’s approximately six miles.  That is, if you can find the right trail to do the loop.  The first morning I followed my nose and didn’t make a wrong turn anywhere.  I meandered through the woods and startled many white-tailed deer and countless birds.  I took pictures with my easy-carry Nikon and couldn’t shake the feeling of being in Nature’s green womb.  The woods were multi-hued with so much green, I couldn’t begin to describe the nuances of the singular color.  I returned to the house to find my son in the drivers’ seat of the Gator with Grandpa giving driving tips.   My daughter was rustling around upstairs, giving signs that she’d finally given up on sleep.

A few days later I hit the same trail, but ran with a slight twist.  I wanted to see where some of the trails went, even though I was forewarned that they dead-ended farther up the mountain.  Since I had nowhere to be, I extended the run by following two dead-end trails into the woods (and thus backtracking to the main trail) before accidently finding my lollipop loop.  As it was the start of an East Coast heat wave and the humidity was already high, I stopped running after eight miles because of dehydration.

Three’s a charm, and so I ran the trail for the third time.  On this day there was no sun.  Haze covered the sky, erasing all shadows.  Lacing up my shoes, I left my sunglasses on the table as a challenge to the sun God to show his face.  My challenge went unanswered.  Instead, the God of wet air laid the smack-down on this Colorado girl and laughed all day long.  I was hot after the run and hit the shower immediately, trying to cool down before the days’ activities began.  We were headed to Charlottesville Virginia, home on Thomas Jefferson’s and the nearest Whole Foods.

Colorado doesn’t have a lot of moisture.  Hot steamy showers are great for a few minutes, but the steam evaporates quickly.  The sauna at the Rec Center is fun for a few minutes.  Even the occasional fronts of moisture are enjoyable.  But if Colorado is a tea-cup of moisture, then Charlottesville Virginia is the Garden of Eden of sweat lodges.  The sky was white with haze; it was so hot that shadows left for cooler ground.  We emerged from the car and sweat began pouring from every pore.  My son’s cheeks turned blister-red within five minutes, and he began doing the drunken walk of a child who’s severely tired.  During the tour he sat down on the ground and at one point, leaned against the ropes like he was going to fall asleep.

The return drive that should have taken a little over two hours took a full four hours. The heat hit me so hard that I couldn’t concentrate on the map, and deciphering directions became an exercise in futility.  A headache took hold of my brain and only the incessant swigs of water held it at bay.  We canceled dinner plans because we were lost in Virginia, and my son pulled a tooth during the drive back to the farm. The cast of Glee covered Journey, Neil Diamond and Cindy Lauper for our entertainment, and we joined the Dixie Chicks discussion in a lively tale about where Earl is laid to rest.

While wandering Monticello in 100-degree heat with 90% percent humidity, it occurred to me for a split second that I could actually acclimate to this and be a better runner, but then the thought of running made my stomach roll and I worked hard to hold onto lunch.   Later that night, while lying in my bed hoping for a passing breeze to float over my head, I thought about running in Colorado, and how much I enjoy it.  The runs that I’ve taken here have been hard because of the intense humidity.  There’s no sense of a runner’s high in humidity, there’s only survival.

Today was my day to run again, but I didn’t feel like it.  The heat broke last night and we enjoyed almost ten hours of solid rain.  The kids and I slept in the cool of the morning until almost 8 AM, and meandered our way through a lazy breakfast.  I meant to do sprints in the field, but after the intense rain last night, I wasn’t up for plowing my way through wet grass.

I’ve enjoyed the vacations of the summer this year.  I’m getting better at letting go of the small stuff and enjoying down-time.  I think I’m really getting the hang of it.  And since I wouldn’t be me if I weren’t always trying to learn something new, I can honestly say that I’ve learned how to relax on a vacation.