The Trouble with Listening

I keep a poster with this saying in my classroom, among others in a similar vein, to help visually remind my students that listening is the first element in being a learning musician. We absorb and enjoy this aural art with our ears. I ask of them daily – “Is it possible to talk and truly listen at the same time?” Thankfully, I don’t teach too many smart asses who say yes, and I believe that they actually get it. Most of my students are empaths to whom I can say, “When you have something to say to me, don’t you want to know that I am paying attention to you? Doesn’t everyone deserve the same?” When we really listen to one another’s thoughts and the music we make together, it is then that we can fully experience the beauty of our work.

Even a 5 year old can grasp this. Why is it so hard to put into practice?

On the 4th of the month, I have great concern that my Fabruary may turn into Flabruary. I have not run since Saturday. I had a run planned yesterday but I chose to get a massage instead because my entire body feels tight. Even as I tell myself that I am listening to my body by not running for a few days, I feel like a loser. I fear losing the great progress that I made in Shamuary. I wonder if I am simply a weak person who cannot handle the training load I have put upon myself. You know I cannot cope with having peaked at 34.

“You know what I need to do?” I said to myself this evening. “Read my blog!” I am feeling like I have never been sore in my life and I logically know this cannot be the case. While it feels like the end of the road for my progress, I understand realistically that progress is rarely linear and it’s more likely that I simply need a bit of recovery. I put “injury” in the search box and what do you know, I have experienced the need to alter my plans more than once.

Perhaps we find listening difficult because it feels passive. We feel as though we will miss something if we don’t immediately act or speak. We feel a pressure to contribute and make our abilities known – so much so that we overlook the cost of pausing to observe and absorb. I wish my body felt like a million dollars so that I could confidently take on what is in my running plan this week, but she’s trying to tell me something and it sure ain’t “do your 11 mile run on Friday.”

I still fully intend to be fearless in 2020. My body is reminding me that sometimes bravery requires the willingness to stop, listen, and adjust.

Fabruary: Awaiting Results

Day 1 of the new month – which I am proclaiming as fabulous, by the way – with my mountain of student loan debt comes the ability to spell all of the months in English properly – has got me nervous. I know I literally JUST said it is going to be fabulous but please, hear me out. I have successfully wrapped up my workouts for the week but my legs are not happy about it. I did a good job in Shamuary of consistently getting in my miles, but if I do not start stretching and adding strength regularly, I’m not going to make it. Stretching daily and full ass yoga and strength routines twice a week, each. Periodt, as my Lil One would say.

I believe that every runner loves results, but I also think that results mean different things to different people. When I started running in 2013, I was not thinking that I would ever become addicted to entering races. I was just a girl trying to continue my habit of working out 3 times a week to lose weight and Couch to 5k was a free, structured way for me to do so. What a blessing that I was able to maintain the discipline to finish the program, enter a race, and have one of the happiest moments of my life as I crossed my first finish line. While I still care about my weight loss, the purpose has now flipped – rather than running to lose weight, I want to lose weight so I can be the most efficient runner possible.

At this point in my life, I am determined to show myself that my best still awaits me. Last night, I started updating the calendar page of my blog to fill in gaps and detail all of my awesome activities and race results. I used the site coolrunning.com, which I have been using for years to check where I’ve placed in my age groups. Would you believe that as of today, February 1, coolrunning.com is NO. MORE?! Had I waited one more day, it might have been impossible to find any of my races prior to my purchasing a Garmin. I am beyond thankful that God moved me to update my calendar and I hope I can bless others as I increase in fearlessness. If you want to do something, people, just grab life by the ovaries! You never know!

About those ovaries.

It was interesting seeing my race times in black and white, all together. There is a distinct before and after marriage line. I have been tempted to make new goals based on Mrs. J rather Ms. J but I am not that old yet! I refuse to accept that the result of getting married is to be slower. That being said, the result of being older and more experienced requires that I do not neglect things like stretching and strength training – when I was at my best I was getting regular massages and not missing boot camp. That girl was great, and this one can be too. THAT being said, I’m no longer mad at Mrs. J for being slower. I am coming to realize that life is like training and it is simply not feasible for me to be in peak condition all of the time. Garmin knows, look at this chart:

The last year three years have frustrated me as I cannot seem to break the pattern of setting goals and missing them, but check out that calendar – I haven’t been exactly sedentary. I would argue that I have toggled between maintaining, recovery, and overreaching as a married woman. I hope that I am able to become more productive so that I can truly peak! Here’s to good decision making and not being mean to myself when I make not so good ones!

 

 

One More Time

I amuse my students in rehearsals by telling them the only time they shouldn’t take me literally is when I tell them, “One more time!” This is a “lie” that all music teachers tell, I say. They groan, but they know that doing it one more time will bring them closer to a result they can appreciate. One more time can be the difference between a confident performance and a reluctant one, or it can be the space between a solid, harmonic ending and a stumble across the finish line of our song.

As 2019 concludes, I find myself making resolutions – one more time. Like my students, I groan because I am tired. I wish I could have it all right in this moment, but I don’t. There are many who scoff at new year’s resolutions because of the natural tendency to allow ourselves to lapse, but that is not the fault of the calendar. Why would we fault each other for trying to be the best versions of ourselves? This is a difficult thing to do, all year long!

Even when my students need to play one more time, I make a conscious effort to tell them what they are doing well. I want them to know that celebrating their strengths and managing their weaknesses can happen concurrently AND that I love and appreciate them and their effort. I deserve the same for myself, do I not?

I am thankful that at the end of 2019 I am a tad less cynical than I was at the end of 2018. This is despite not meeting my goal of running 1019 KM, or running a 10 miler with the best Mentor ever, and still being fat. I definitely have to work on this healthy human thing one more time. Look at my 2018 running stats:

Compare them to my 2019 stats:

Look how much better I did! Yay, me! Yes, I’m still fat, but I did lose 20 pounds and managed to only gain one pound in November and December – no small feat, between a trip to Jamaica, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Garmin gave me this badge today:

I am stoked that I have finished the year strongly. I tell my babies all the time that even if we have a rough start, we can have a strong ending and that counts for a whole lot. I love that Garmin has marked this badge as repeatable, for Lord willing, I will have another strong finish. The tricky bit, as you can tell from 2 years of training logs, is the middle. I want to approach 2020 fearlessly – unafraid to set new goals, but perhaps more importantly, unafraid to RESET old goals.

Happy New Year! One more time.

What Happened?

I wish I knew where 2018 went.

After I posted about not being very happy thus far in 2019 (despite having worked out every day, hah!), it dawned on me that I had not updated my race calendar since the middle of 2016! My goodness, I wonder what could have happened in the middle of 2016 that changed things…

Oh yeahhh, Adonis!

I went through my Garmin app to see my activities so I could properly document them and wouldn’t you know it – there is a correlation between the amount of miles I ran and how long I’ve been married.

2016: Ran 125 times for a total of 595.87 miles

2017: Ran 117 times for a total of 345.4 miles

2018: Ran 93 times for a total of 240.38 miles.

I’m not trying to say that my running less is my husband’s fault. I’m a pretty articulate woman and if I wanted to say that, I would just come out and say it. What I will say is that I’ve done a piss poor job of taking care of myself since we’ve gotten married. My Garmin was out of commission because of a bad strap and I waited several months to replace it – hardly the watch’s fault! I didn’t have any injuries, though I did struggle with some respiratory foolishness between April and June and then again between November and December. Does this mean I don’t care about running as much as I once did?

I don’t think so.

Take a look at my calendar from last year. I only did 6 races but I traveled quite a bit and made it a point to do a race in each place that I went. I would have run in Jamaica again but the race fell on my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary. I wish I didn’t feel like I have to be closer to perfect in order to manage my new schedule and put running in it more consistently, but if I am not eating and sleeping well, it is difficult for me to see how I can meet my goals.

It still makes me tear up to toe the starting line. It still is a thrill to cross a finish line. It isn’t quite as much fun if I am not putting the time into train, and that’s something that I must change. I got an email today where I was challenged to run 1019 KM in 2019 and dammit I am going to do it. In fact – if I make it 1/4 of the way by the end of March, I get to buy myself a fancy new Garmin. My body and my heart are kind of tired but I can’t give up. I’m too young and I’m still kind of cute.

Come on, God. Let’s go again.

Sweetly Sucking

I apologize if the title offends your sensibilities, but what is going to follow isn’t dirty. Unless you are the type to think that a sorry run is dirty. Then this is definitely NSFW.

I told y’all yesterday that I was going to run today. I had a conference session to attend at 7 am (okay fine, the session was breakfast, but it IS the most important meal session of the day) and would have had to be hitting the pavement by 5 to make it, in the dark, in an unfamiliar area. Nope. I bid my running shoes farewell until 6 PM.

As I was lacing up, I was tempering my expectations for the following reasons:

A. I am typically a morning runner on fresh feet.

B. The weather is starting to warm-up.

C. PMS is definitely not an acronym for Peak Maximum Speed.

I had run the same “day” on my app 10 days ago. I figured it wouldn’t be as good for the above listed reasons. Lemme tell you something. I was right. Damn right. My pace kept slowing, and slowing, and sloooowwwing. I checked my watch and you know how it goes. When you end up looking down and only one minute has passed since you last checked? Tough day.

A tough day is not a bad day! I showed up. I didn’t quit, even though I passed my hotel room with 20 minutes to go. I did take a walk break of about 30 seconds but I dug deep and ran faster when my app calmly asked. I stretched like a champ afterward.

Loving the journey, even when it sucks, is sweet!

The Happiest Place on Earth: Race Report

Yesterday rocked.

I was accompanied by Mom and Dad. Mom was racing too and cussing me the whole way to the start line. “Why am I up? It’s cold. I should be sleeping. This is crazy.” It was actually a bit colder than I was expecting, but it was supposed to be ideal by the time the race started. We got our packets, used the lovely portable toilets, I ate my pre-race navel and lined up at the starting line.

My playlist was set. 31:30. Too ambitious? Maybe. I was just feeling so optimistic! Garmin was on, but I didn’t want to stress myself out by staring at my watch, so I told myself I would turn it on but I would not look at it during the race. I wanted to see where my training had put me in my natural state – pushing, yes, but not killing myself. The hype man started the countdown from 10, and then the horn sounded. Tears came to my eyes once more. What is more beautiful than a chance to start again? I swallowed and made my way to the timing mat.

Two songs into my playlist, I saw the 1st mile marker. My body was feeling good. I pointed to the sky and asked for help for the next 2.1. I made another turn on this familiar Orlando course and saw a sign on a church. “Jesus Loves You,” it read in neon lights. I smiled as I continued running past the first water stop. I hadn’t been drinking water during any of my training runs and didn’t want to lose any momentum. Three more songs pass, as does the 2nd mile marker. I had done an amazing job on my playlist – the words and beat were helping me push forward. I saw a lady from Venezuela whose shirt read “God is with you” on its back – incidentally, near another water stop. Living Water, heh. “Gracias por tu camisa!” I yelled, thanking her for her shirt.

Two songs to go. Two turns to go. I am doing it. I was so happy to be running and feeling strong. One song to go. One turn to go. Final turn made. Finish line in sight. Aaaaand the first song comes on again. Blast you, point 1. I chuckled and found another gear as I crossed the finish line.

Mom had told me to come back for her, which I did, after I brought a snack to Dad, of course. I caught her on the home stretch. “Ready to run to the finish?!” “I will – at the stop sign.” That’s my Mom, ever the rebel. Gonna hit the gas at the stop sign. We went for it as I ducked to the left of the timing mats. I met with her on the other side of the chute. “Where are the race results?” said the woman who had been complaining to me all morning.

I had shaved 00:02:10 off my 5k time from November and Mom was a minute faster than a month ago! I was most pleased because my pace had been incredibly steady – each of my miles was within 20 seconds of the other. Boom. Mom commented that I looked like I just had had a facial. Nope. This is the glow that can only come from the happiest place on earth. A place of sweat, faith, strength, and growth. I want to stay here as long as I can. ❤️

God, Garmin, and Good Judgment. Race Report

Perfume. 

Lipstick. 

Earrings. 

Go to the bathroom as much as possible. 

Thank God for all He has provided me, also think of sins for which I need forgiveness so earthly payment doesn’t come due during the race. 

The last one in that checklist (perhaps the last two, tee hee) especially should indicate my level of anxiety. I try, imperfectly of course, to be thankful regularly, and I don’t think of God as my “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” kind of partner, but if there’s any day that I need a solid from the Lord, it’s today. The fabulous 3M had just texted me an excerpt from Hebrews 12, something I had reminded myself before my 70.3 and was trying to keep in mind –

12 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Hebrews 12:1-3 (NIV)

Yes, Joan. While there is joy at the finish line set before me, the marathon is not the cross. Remember this today. Any pain I experience, while important to God, likely won’t approach crucifixion levels. 

I found the 5:45 pacer and asked him what his plan was. Murray said he was going to run for 2 minutes at about 12 min mile pace and do a brisk walk for 1 minute. He said that while he’s not an official Galloway pacer, running steadily at a 13:10 pace seemed too slow. Fair enough! I figured I wouldn’t get in trouble and go out too fast if I chilled with Murray, so I lined up with him in the corral after hugging my amazing family and saying a prayer with them. 

The horn for which I’ve trained for months finally sounded. I wiped away tears of excitement and awe that this day is really here and walked toward the timing mat. The French horn opening of the first movement of Brahms 1st piano concerto set the mood in my ears for this part of my journey – grand, expansive, RUBATO! Not. Too. Fast. I stayed close to Murray* at the very beginning, but something didn’t feel right about it. I let him go and just paid attention to my Garmin. Mile 1 passes and I look down at my watch. 12:43. And Mr. 5:45 is AHEAD of me. Nope. 

A lady sidled up to me and asked what my plan was. “2/1, stay alive, finish under 6!” I replied. “Me too!” she answered. 

I need you to understand this. I had imagined that I might make a friend or two on the way to the finish line. It had been immensely helpful to me during my 70.3 to do the run with someone, and I will never forget her. So when I say that I was open to running the race with someone else despite preferring to train alone, you must know that I really meant it. 

This was not that someone. 

Roz* from New Jersey was running this marathon on her journey to join the 50 states marathon club. This marked marathon number 15 for this running coach who would NOT. STOP. TALKING. She asked me about my training, and I judged her as I answered her stupid questions politely. I say her questions were stupid because they were questions for which I could presumably have wrong answers. If I did something wrong in my training, what the hell am I supposed to do about it now in mile 2 of the marathon? Turn around? Heffa, please. Performance day is just that. Make it work now, ask questions later. 

Still, I thought the Christian thing to do was to deal with her neediness. Some people need people to boss around to feel useful. I turned up my music and nodded and smiled as she went on about herself. I asked cogent questions. Everyone runs differently and if I can help someone run the best race she can, I can handle a bit of annoyance. 

Jim* rolled up on us around the 5k point. He was talking with Roz and it turned out he was already in the 50 states club. I was thankful for Jim because he took some of the pressure off of me. He wasn’t with us for very long, to which Roz said, “some people just need to show off and talk about themselves to new people!” I burst out laughing at the irony of her observation. “Don’t laugh too hard, Joan. 23.1 to go – save your breath!” I thought. 

At mile 5, I decided to use the toilet. JUST in case. I wasn’t feeling a pressing need to go, but my colleague at work who just completed her first marathon said that it’s better to go in the beginning rather than later. What could it hurt? Plus, I was hoping Roz would go ahead of me. Well, she did, but not for long. A mile or so later, she stopped to refill her water and said she would be behind me. “Okay!” It took a LOT of willpower to stay at my current pace and not purposely speed up to put distance between us. I suppose I have more faith in my patience than I do my legs. 

The marathon and half-marathon courses were concurrent for about the first 7 miles. Then it got REAL lonely out there, man. It looked like I was going into the wilderness. I was actually thankful for Roz’s yelling behind me because I didn’t see a single soul ahead of me. Disconcerting, y’all. It wasn’t too long before I saw some more cones, cops, and the winner headed in the opposite direction toward the finish line. Confirmation of the correct path was comforting, indeed. 

As the race continued, I felt pains that worried me. My left hamstring in mile 8. My right calf in mile 13. I prayed for them and pressed forward. I stayed focused on my 2/1 intervals and the miles just came to me, one by one. I smiled as I enjoyed the music of the clearly brilliant person who created this playlist. I shrugged and sighed as I caught up to and passed Murray, who told me he didn’t think he was going to make it in 5:45. 

Speaking of the aforementioned brilliance, I had tried to time the gospel music around mile 19 – when I projected I might be questioning my life choices most. “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” “My Tribute.” “How Great Thou Art.” Naturally, I chose really powerful arrangements that evoked great emotion. Too much emotion. I started to think about how amazing God is and tears came to my eyes. I felt tingles all over. I glanced down to look at my heart rate. 

TWO.

O.

BLOODY.

FIVE. 

OKAY GOD PLEASE HELP MY HEART RATE COME DOWN BECAUSE I HAVE NEARLY TWO HOURS OF RACE LEFT IN JESUS’ NAME AMEN

Not the most artful prayer, admittedly. I slowed my walking and that helped. I drank more water from my trusty CamelBak. Every sip tasted heavenly, so I can assume by this point I was likely dehydrated. I didn’t want to have my stomach sloshing around with water and honey stingers, but I suppose my trying not to drink too much didn’t help my tingly euphoria. 

By mile 22, my heart rate was still sky high on my run intervals. I didn’t like it. I am confident God brought me Roz for this one piece of advice – “if you get tired, switch your run time to your walk time. That way you don’t lose hope or momentum.” I went from 2/1 to 1:30/1:30. I checked the clock. I had an hour to meet my time goal. I could do that with a speedy walk if I needed to. I stayed in the shade as much as possible. 

I saw some volunteers by the stadium where the race had begun. “This way to glory?” I asked. “Yes ma’am!” 

Then the most beautiful thing happened. 

As I caught sight of the finish line, the recap of the Brahms concerto with which I had begun the race was starting. I don’t know that I can properly describe how fitting this was – to hear that moment in the music at just that time, but it brought the biggest smile to my face. To be back where I started but in a completely different way – just like the music! was nothing short of perfection. I turned on to the track and saw my awesome Mommy. “Hi Mom!” “Hey Jo!” as she whipped out her camera. “You’re almost there!” The clock read 5:55:26 as I crossed the timing mat. I. Win. 

I serve a God that allows for so much more than finishing the race. I finished the marathon with BOTH arms in the air, a bright smile, and Brahms in my ears. He is a cherry on top kind of God. My prayer is that I can keep this moment close to me forever as I continue running with Him and toward Him. 

*- I don’t change names to protect anyone who annoys me. 

I Gots To Be On Fleek: Wedding Day Report, Part I

Like you don’t already know how the happiest day of my life had to begin. 

  
N.B. How like Sex and the City. I get married and reveal my love’s actual name. 

Mommy had to come with me. On other days, she may have fought me, but I milked that “I’m the bride, you should do what I want” business for all it was worth. All I wanted was a little run! 

Let it be known to all that I am a traditional girl – Adonis and I could not see each until our wedding, but I knew we would be safe at that early hour. Mom and I strolled down the hallway past their room with confidence toward the beach. When we returned, I had Mom scan the hallway before we walked back to the room. I called Lil One from our room to see where Adonis was, after having made clear that I got to eat breakfast first. What? I just ran. Gimme a break. 

I enjoyed my last meal before my fabulous nuclear family grew. Will I still fit into my dress? God only knew. But there was unlimited bacon. Lightning could strike and I might not even get married. Eat up. 

  
After another phone call, I went up to the room to finish (read: start) writing cards for my parents, my soon-to-be stepdaughters, and husband minus 3 hours. I choked back tears as I wrote thank you cards to my amazing parents. What could I possibly say that could do justice to their efforts to serve God whilst raising me? I did the best I could considering my impending deadline – makeup appointment at 9 am! 

Mommy and I met Rasheena at the spa, who asked me what kind of look I was going for. “I’m not trying to look like a clown. Natural, please!” I was thankful that it only took 30 minutes to go from completely natural…

  
…to wedding day natural.

  
Some flowers in my hair…

   
 
I was pleased. This is happening!! 

After Mom and I carefully snuck back into our room, I got into what logically comes next, of course. My heart rate monitor. I had The Big One help me into my corset – responsible almost stepchild was ready with plenty of time to spare, thankfully. Didn’t want Mom to fuss at the fact that I wanted to measure my heart rate as I change my life! Am I so gauche as to wear my Garmin with a wedding dress? 

I found a way, and here it is –

  
This island girl is many things. Gauche ain’t one. Zoom in on my right hand, y’all. Crystal Garmin in full effect. I was going to measure the steps it took to change my life. Believe it. 

At 10:45, Mom, The Big One, and I went downstairs to our meeting place. Adonis was supposed to be already waiting for me at the altar. I stepped off of the elevator and looked toward the lobby and THERE. HE. WAS. I sprinted in the opposite direction around a corner, much to the chagrin of my mother, who was holding my train. It had turned out that they were looking for my Dad, who was hanging out with the pastor at the gazebo, hah! 

The wedding coordinator united us with Lil One and the 5 of us walked to where I was to emerge. Tired of waiting, I amused myself by playing ‘Here Comes the Bride’ on the keyboard of GarageBand, immediately followed by the theme from Jeopardy. The point came where I was “alone,” but I never really felt alone as I noticed guests of the hotel staring, or those who would pass me would wish me luck or compliment me. The bride took it in stride. 

The Garmin is turned on. Showtime. 

  

More Than Okay: Race Report

  
The times are a-changin, baby. ‘Had to make a good playlist for what HAD to be a good race. It’s my last one as a single lady! 

Today’s goal: pace of 11:10. My last 10k several weeks prior had been 11:40, so 11:10 seemed to be a reasonable pace to chase. I set my watch to yell at me if I went faster than 10:55 and slower than 11:25. I kissed my fiancé goodbye (for the last time! tee hee) and found a place in the starting corral. 

After my obligatory tearing up at a start line, I turned on my music as I crossed the timing mat. The weather was cool – perfect for race day. My watched beeped at me. “10:50,” it read. Oh, self. Slow down. Don’t get caught up in the hype. But I just felt so good! “Ehhhhh. Let’s see how mile one goes!” Unwise, I know. But what’s the worse that could happen? It’s 6.2 miles. 

Mile one passed. I checked my heart rate. It wasn’t yelling at me. What the hell, let’s just keep going. I trailed this chick with red hair and we took turns passing each other. She became my buddy, unbeknownst to her. 

By the end of mile 5, my watch was yelling at me for my heart rate. “This is a race!” I said to my watch. I ignored it and pushed toward the finish line. By the time it came into view, I felt like my heart was going to bust out of my chest. Perfect. 

After I crossed, I checked my watch. 10:40 min/mile! Whaaaaat that means like, I’m a runner or something. I did better than I expected and now 3M is going to help me PR my 10k for my next race! Maybe there’s hope for me after all…

 
 

In Garmin We Trust?

Look at this. 

  
Apparently, my watch has a lot of faith in me. I have not achieved anything close to ANY of the above times. I’ve done a significant amount of running with the watch, so I’d say it knows me pretty well. Yet it says I am capable of so much more than I have done. 

What does this mean? Am I not working hard enough? If I were to get any of those times I would be beside myself with glee. I worry that after only 2.5 years of running that I have peaked, but Garmin seems to think otherwise – that I have a long way to go. 

Tomorrow, I have a 10k and I am NERVOUS. It is the longest race I have attempted in 2015. Since starting my HR training, I would be ecstatic to get 1:15 or less. Hah. 56:24. Why doesn’t Garmin tell me exactly what I need to do in order to achieve this? Moreover, why doesn’t it tell me when this could be possible? 

  
I love how God can even speak to me through my watch. I may never see any of those times, but I may see some even faster! I must be thankful for every day that I am able to run. Maybe strength and speed are like money – God blesses us with that which He knows we can handle. How will I be a good steward of the strength and speed I have? 

Race report tomorrow!