My next steps will most definitely NOT look like they did 10 years ago. I remember immediately looking up a 10k trainer, putting 6 weeks in, and running those 6.2 miles at an 11ish pace. L.O.L. To be young again. However, I do want the same things I wanted then – to continue making progress. So why not in the same way?
I am not regularly strength training as I was. Frankly, I am not regularly doing anything, which is part of why I’m so proud about running all the way through on Saturday. Putting my mind to things and doing them isn’t behind me, as I was beginning to fear. 30 pounds heavier, 10 years older, no strength training – and 3 minutes slower than my first time? I think I’m closer to the floor than the ceiling, which intrigues me. Notice that I didn’t say it excites me, since I am still feeling a bit shy about embracing a routine. That being said, I am determined to reach for the ceiling, even if it means being a *tad* uncomfortable.
I discovered over spring break that I don’t hate the gym. I hadn’t had a membership since 2018 and stopped going to the one in my apartment complex once the pandemic began. When my boo and I had a little getaway for our anniversary, I had no plans to go to the gym then, either! I was going to do my 5k training on the streets, ya know? One morning, I started out for a run and I felt a few raindrops. I learned then that I am more willing to mask in an uncrowded, immaculately clean fitness center than I am to get my twists wet. Since we’ve been back, I have been trying to figure out when I can hit an upscale hotel again with the express purpose of going to the gym!
As I write this, it sounds like I have transitioned into a weekend (vacation?) warrior. My next race is in 4 weeks, but it is in another city. I see myself doing strength two days a week at the house and running on the weekends. I tried to allow Garmin to create a get faster plan for me, but I couldn’t even bring myself to press “start plan.” It’s just not me at the moment. I don’t anticipate a summer full of races because it is JUST. TOO. HOT. Getting fit, walks for good causes, deciding to consider another training cycle when the weather is cooler.
Look at me, it’s less than a year since my last post. Goal – getting in four strength workouts and four runs before posting again.
Just because life looks different doesn’t mean it’s not still sweet. To my next steps!
On March 23, 2013, I ran my first 5k. I decided early this year to follow the same training plan I had 10 years ago to see if I could achieve a similar result.
I. Training
Over the past few years, I have tried several times to complete Couch to 5k again. I kept falling off of the wagon because of injury, family deaths, fatigue from adjusting to the new normal that is life in the pandemic era. I was scared to reach week 6 this go-round because that has been where it goes wrong. The only thing that went “wrong” in my training this time was that I accidentally started a week earlier than I needed to, but that mistake allowed me the flexibility to deal with life as it happened. I was able to get all the days in, often feeling strong. I have learned – or been reminded – that training is best when I am well-rested, hydrated, and stretched. Shocking, I know. In the before times, I was happy both training before and after work. These days, I have a strong preference for running on days off, so I don’t feel rushed to stretch.
II. Race Day
I was single and living with my parents 10 years ago, but I still wanted them to come cheer me on today! Apparently, living with my husband doesn’t absolve me of my driving duty, so I dutifully went to pick Mom up. Daddy’s mobility doesn’t look the same as it did 10 years ago, and I happily accepted his well wishes before we left.
We parked and crossed the street to the elementary school where the race was staged. I had emailed the race organizer to see if there was a chance that I could have the same bib number as I did 10 years ago, but he politely replied that it was likely not possible due to the 5k numbers not going as high as I would require. Sure enough, I received a 3 digit bib number instead of a 4 digit one. I noticed that this year, the start and finish line were exactly the same, as opposed to being about 50 yards apart as they had been in the past. Mom made fun of me for this selfie:
I guess I was making a lot of faces to finally land on this relatively straight one?
In my training, my left knee had good days and bad days, but by the time the cycle had wrapped up, I was able to run without pain and thus without my brace. As I was warming up, I started to wonder if I should have been wearing it. I dismissed it as pre-race jitters. There was an announcement for 5k runners to begin lining up. I hugged my Mom, she wished me luck, I said a prayer, thanking God for the day and asking for the strength to run the whole way through. I haven’t run a race in its entirety since February 2020!
The horn sounded. We were off!
Immediately, I noted that my left leg was unhappy to be there. I grimaced, hoping that it would subside, and thankfully, before the first mile was done, it did. I was lightly jogging, enjoying the curated playlist I had decided to put in a race day order minutes earlier. I think I try to intentionally forget that this race is what I call “Florida hilly” – lots of little ups and downs, as it is adjacent to a golf course. I saw the first incline and sighed but was determined to push through. About a half mile in, I recognized that there were people I would likely be running with the whole time based on our pace. There was an older black woman with beautiful gray natural hair who was slightly ahead of me most of the time. I decided I wanted her to beat me because it is a sign that I can keep getting better. I was running without a watch this time – even 10 years ago I had a basic polar heart rate watch. I just wanted to move without watching any metrics. When I reached the mile 1 sign, I smiled, crossed myself and thanked God. My music was telling me I was going the pace I wanted. Mile 2 was similar – I could keep this up, I thought.
Mile 3 was absolutely brutal.
There were so many bloody turns. My mouthing the words to my playlist had become cursing. I know I have written previously about turns making me feel like I am progressing, but these turns were just too many. Another one – then another one – I felt like I would never see the finish line. I really wanted to walk, but I knew I would be mad at myself later, and I knew my body still was able to have both feet off of the ground at the same time. I had been looking forward to the triumph of seeing the finish line like I had at age 27, but at age 37, I was feeling relief. Seeing my Mom waving me in did change my cursing into smiling though, and I still had a little more in my legs to pick up the pace toward the finish.
I did it.
I had tried to duplicate my picture from 10 years ago, but I had two arms up in that one! I should have checked *sigh*
III. What’s Next?
As much as I was cursing the course yesterday, I hope I can return at 47. I need 10 years to mentally prepare for the turning, I think. 🙂 So much has changed in the last ten years. Yes, I am heavier, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be stronger. I think the greater challenge is the mental weight of life that has come with the passing of time. I hope my Dad is still around to give me a hug when I get back from dropping off Mom. I hope my Mom can make me another “Go Jo” sign and be there to wave for me as a I finish. I’m not sure who is reading this anymore, but if you are, I am rooting for you to be your strongest, too! ❤
The first month of 2020 is already behind us – but it didn’t end before I did my best to stick to my plans. I give myself an A on my running and a B minus on my eating. I am down a few pounds since the year started and I ran 55 miles this month. Most notably, I suddenly feel comfortable sharing the ups and downs on my race times. I am not sure what clicked in me yesterday as I was updating my race calendar, but I started scrolling through my Garmin app and updating it with past race times. I felt pride over times that once shamed me. I started running in 2013 and my calendar only goes back to 2014, but over the course of the year I intend to not only fill in my race history but detail it with the good. There is no bad or ugly because I am still here.
It is incredible that I started running when I was 28 and this year I will be 35 with no intentions of slowing down. Yes, I meant to make that pun! I want to push my boundaries and peel away the fears that keep me from being open about my abilities. I’ve been fighting trim and I’ve been fighting fat but dammit, I am still fighting.
Here’s to Fabruary! May it be a great one!
Heh. May. That’s when I turn 35.
I do love the sunset – and the sunrise – and breakfast! Yay!
Last night, I had a really hard time getting to sleep. I had wanted to be winding down by 8 and asleep around 9:30 for a 4:30 am wake up, but I didn’t make it into bed until 10 pm and I was rolling around until after midnight as I questioned why I paid good money to do this. I woke up, made coffee, scrambled eggs and breadsticks and got in the car for my lonely, hour and a half ride – I couldn’t convince Adonis or Mom to come with me, so I brought Bear. 33, don’t care.
There was practically zero traffic on either interstate for me to contend with. I was thankful that though I didn’t get an ideal amount of sleep, I was not feeling tired. The entirety of the ride was dark, but I pumped myself up with an excellent playlist. As I arrived in Venice, the sun was coming up and I started to remember some of what I’ve loved about becoming a runner. I would have no other reason to be in a part of Florida I never see if it weren’t for a race.
After getting my race packet, I wandered out to the pier where I saw some men fishing. I pounded my fist, wishing I had thought to twist Adonis’s arm because he could be fishing while I ran, but it was probably just as well. He has a lot of business to schlep with – fishing gear reminds me of triathlon. I asked the gentlemen what was out there. “Nothing!” they replied, half kidding. A lady wandered up to one of the men and said that she had exchanged her race shirt for a larger size because it was ugly and now he could use it for fishing, hah! I didn’t comment but I had been thinking that upon my return home Adonis would see my shirt and try to steal it for the same reason. I was amused to see a household with a similar dynamic – one fisherman, one running woman. She and I started walking back toward the starting line and talking.
I soon learned that FW (fishing wife) likes doing all kinds of events in this part of Florida. She lives nearby and was telling me about different running and biking events and which ones had the best breakfasts and goody bags – clearly a woman after my own heart. I revealed that I did not live close by and wasn’t too familiar with the area, although I have done a few races down here in the past. “You came down here by yourself? What an adventurous woman,” she replied.
√ Blog post title. Boom.
I love how God works. I am sure she just wanted someone to pass time with before the race started, and I had had no plan as to how I was going to spend the time. I probably would have ended up spinning my wheels, being nervous for no good reason, but FW really helped me relax as I listened to her share and got some advice on longevity in running. “Listen to your body. Celery. Potatoes.” Can’t argue with that! It is funny to me that she said that, because I think of myself as a rather conservative person, reluctant to take what I perceive as unnecessary risks. When I make up my mind to do something, I just do it.
Before I knew it, it was time to start. FW started slightly ahead of me, but I caught up to her as she slowed. She said she wasn’t feeling so great and insisted I go ahead. I could have run with her, but I wanted to see what my body would do. This marks the first time in a good while that I have completed a training cycle with a goal race and I needed to see how it worked out. Sadly, red tide made a bit of the otherwise beautiful course smelly. I decided not to look at my watch at anytime, but simply committed to only walking when I stopped for water. I only wanted to do what I thought my body could – I’m conservative, remember? 😉
Shortly after mile 2, I saw the finish line in the distance. I was both hopeful and confused. As I approached, a volunteer informed me that I needed to take a loop around the lake before going to the finish. I remembered that FW had told me about the loop but I still found myself irrationally angry by the cooch tease of coming so close to the line but yet so far! Man, I was tired, but I knew I had more in me. One step came after the other and lo and behold, I was privileged to make the FINAL final turn toward the finish.
After getting much needed water, I went back toward the finish to see how FW had done. Turns out her medication was troubling her breathing! That’s the last time she’ll take that, she said! Runners are the best. Running is the best. 2 minutes and 20 seconds off of my last 5k 4 months ago. Let’s see what my next adventure holds!
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.
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. ❤️
I have a 5k tomorrow! While I am confident I can complete the distance, I don’t know how I will feel while doing it or how my time will be.
This feeling is absolutely exhilarating.
2018 has been a year to reset thus far. I am humbled to have been able to find a rhythm with work and working out by using a meal planning service. I am finally making visible progress with my trainer and working out on my own in the mornings again. I know that this could change at any time, but while I have this I know it is something to be cherished. I started Couch to 5k again and completed 7 of the 8 weeks, and have only ‘come up short’ because my trainer suggested that I rest my ankle this week because I will not really progress prior to the race.
I am most happy because this year feels very much like the beginning of my running journey in 2013. At the time, I started with a pair of old sneakers in my closet and nothing but my app – no Garmin, no fancy shoes fitted for my running gait – I was just a girl who only ran after ice cream trucks and away from large dogs trying to lose weight. I have worked hard to simply do my best and not obsess over beating previous times and/or intervals, and am blessed to report that upon looking at the data, I appear to be improving without driving myself nuts.
I love that the anticipation of each training run has inspired both excitement and apprehension. The ability to put one foot in front of the other is a gift to be celebrated. Only the Lord knows how much longer I will have not just the ability to run, but to improve. I want so much to be a good steward of my blessings.
God built us to move forward, both literally and spiritually toward Him. The last 32.5 years have been a bit of a zig zag pattern for me, but tomorrow, I get to lace up and enjoy another new beginning, and Lord willing, another triumphant finish.
As you are fully aware, cancer sucks. The many volunteers behind One Step Closer to the Cure are tirelessly working so that no one else’s Auntie has to be taken prematurely by ovarian cancer. Collectively, my family did our part contributing about 100,000 literal steps. Here is how my 6,000 went:
1. 1-2,000
If you want to know how I think I’m going to do during a race, all you must do is check my playlist. Did I set it to shuffle? I’m just here for the cause. Perhaps I spent significant time carefully crafting both the sequence and length of the list. That means the next 33 (Lord willing) minutes are not a drill. When the horn sounds, I’m feeling great out of the gate, man. I’m gonna run this bad boy all the way through. Early on, I experienced the runner’s high that keeps me coming back. Seeing so many teams and friends coming together always helps to add to my gooey feelings. Everyone’s a champ so far, even me!
2. 2,001 – 4,000
It’s…it’s kind of hot out here. I wanted to push but – eh. I have noticed recently that there’s something about turning in races that is a mental drag for me. It used to exhilarate me, as I would focus on the fact that I am progressing, but right now I deem to be in a place where I think to myself “ugghhhh there’s more!” and my pace drops accordingly. I started running some, then walking some, but still trying to meet my goal. Plus, running whenever I saw my family.
3. 4,001 – finish
Okay so maybe my goal was a *tad* ambitious based on my current fitness level. I blame the stress and snacks that Hurricane Irma swept in! She was a big heffa, you ‘member? I was moving forward but “Imma own this!” had devolved into “Ugh let’s finish and get breakfast.” Then the most amazing thing happened.
Several different waves of emotion came over me. Thankfulness for being Daphne’s niece. Humbled by the fact that she can still touch lives, 7 years after her death. GUILT! For whining about a slow pace in a healthy body. This woman who God brought to me at just the right time was cheering ME on. I am complaining about fighting 3.1 miles and she is literally fighting for her life. I learned later that she also serves on the board of the foundation that puts on the race. Man. I suck for thinking that I suck. I started running a bit more and digging until the end.
I need to pray for the spirit of people like that amazing lady and Auntie Daph to fill me, not just when I run but in my every day life. Every step God gives us is a blessing and it’s my prayer that I start to act like it!
That’s right. I’m the one (via God’s grace, naturalmente) who is the cause for the celebration! I have been running for FOUR years, like the consummate politician! So, since I’m the one who decides every day whether I am a runner, I shall outline here why I believe I should continue to support my racing and thus my overall well-being.
1. There are fewer more glorious feelings than crossing a finish line.
It doesn’t matter if I see a finish line and feel relief or triumph. I have never been disappointed when I reach it, even if I think I could have had a better day on the course. Every one means that I started something, committed to it, and saw it to fruition.
2. I know how I can improve.
While I am not at my peak of fitness currently, I know there is hope for me to become a better runner than I ever have been. I may not be a beginner, but I pray that I have just seen the beginning of my running career. I can learn to be both more disciplined in some areas and more forgiving in others. Let’s be real – there’s nothing else that motivates me to be physically healthy.
3. It has made me a more open person.
I have run (rimshot!) into people who have changed my life. Granted, I knew The Mentor before I started running, but I likely wouldn’t have started without her. I’ve gotten to know countless amazing people, like Blonde Oprah and 3M. Because of running, I am open to meeting more people and both learning from them and giving to them.
Every step I take in a race is a gift from God. May He grant me at least another 4 more years! A vote for running is a vote for Joanie!
Evidently, training for a marathon has made me a stronger runner – who could have anticipated that, right? According to the same plan I used to train, I am now within striking distance of setting a half marathon PR. Obviously, that means I have to put in the time to make that happen. The training gods have set out a 9 mile long run for me on my 15 week path to glory. Me: “Let’s find a 15K! Free PR!”
Having run a quarter marathon 3 weeks earlier and a full marathon 2 months ago, I thought to myself, ‘9 miles isn’t really that much! I’ll have a big bowl of oatmeal and I’ll hydrate along the course. I don’t need to take any gel with me!’ Sigh. I know you’re already shaking your head at me if you are an endurance athlete of any kind. Don’t get ahead of me, although I’ll be the first to admit that with insufficient fuel before and during the race that not getting ahead of me is no small feat. See what I did there?
I showed up at the starting line feeling confident, nonetheless. The plan: an 11 minute mile pace. Approximately an hour and forty minutes of my life. No big deal. Within the first two miles of the race, I heard someone call my name. “Joanie?” I turned to see Sweetness, this cool chick who also comes to boot camp. I smiled as we caught and kept up with another (I did it again, see?). I told her I was trying to do an 11 minute mile, and she said that was cool. I groaned inwardly, not because running with Sweetness was lame but because I saw the 2 mile marker and was thinking, “Damn. It’s only been 2 miles?” Not a good sign. Hah! I wish I were as good at racing as I am at making witty puns. I digress.
After about mile 4, I was tasting Sweetness’s candied dust. If only it had been caloric, because that was sure what I needed! As the race continued, my pace continued to slow. I had to switch to run/walk intervals, which I personally don’t frown upon as a matter of course, but I sure don’t like it when it’s a matter of poor planning! I am quite sure I looked like death because a man along the course saw me and said, “Keep going! You look great!” I needed it, though. I wasn’t actually dying, and let’s be real – I wasn’t getting back to my car unless I finished the race.
I looked to my right and saw Tampa General Hospital. ‘I should check myself into the psych ward.’ I may be out of glycogen but dammit the wit is still here. I pressed on until I crossed the finish line, where Sweetness had been for God only knows how long. She thanked me for pacing her and I had to laugh.
Finishing is always sweet.
Today’s lesson? 9.3 miles is not short, and it sure isn’t long enough to shed any weight. Eat up.
ladyjdoesit 
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