I sort of have a running coach, though I don’t pay him well - or at all.  I’m not really sure what he gets out of the deal.  It’s probably humorous for him to watch me struggling or maybe it’s nostalgia for the old days when he made “rookie” mistakes.  Sometimes he tries not to laugh at me, but he fails, so maybe he does it for the amusement factor. Whatever the reason, he’s helping me run better - at least when I listen to him. 

Most of my life I’ve compared myself to others.  I always tend to hold myself up against people who are “better”, “prettier”, “faster”, “smarter”.  Whenever I pull out the yardstick it’s always me on the losing end.  Apparently the yardstick disappears when I’m “better” at something.  I don’t give myself much credit for the things I do well.  Writing is so simple for me that it has no value in my mind; it seems like something a monkey could do, and do better than me. 

I was all hopped up on Saturday because my run was fun, and it was not difficult.  I couldn’t wait to share the news with my coach.  Then I got a text from him that simply said, “1st place!!!!”  He had run a 5k and won overall.  He’s won plenty in his age group but it’s big deal to be the fastest out of everyone.  Suddenly my 5 miles didn’t seem so newsworthy.  I’m not in competition, so I became very irritated with myself that I could be so happy for him and so negative about myself.  We don’t even run in the same universe so one is not equal to the other. 

I had a terrible run this morning.  FIrst, I ran too late in the morning.  Coach K says, “Well, dumbass, run earlier!”  (He also repeats, ad nauseam, “there will always be faster runners than you”)  Yes, but unfortunately I can’t leave my sleeping children unattended in the house while I run in the cool shade of 5 AM.  Secondly, there was an air quality alert in effect.  Thirdly, the humidity was killer.  Fourthly (is there such a thing?), I ran too fast out of the gate.  I ran with John, and he still runs a lot faster than me.  I get caught up in this guilt cycle where I feel like I’m holding my friends back so I push myself harder until I want to die.  It’s really counter-productive. 

I texted him after my run today - and admitted I couldn’t finish the mere 3 miles I was supposed to.  I can’t remember the last time I quit like that, but I just had nothing else in my system to give.  He called a few minutes later and chewed my butt for a good 20 minutes.  He was right, of course.  I do know better.  He’s tiring of telling me the same things over and over again, and I know that if I don’t listen to him, I’m not going to make it through the training program.  This probably means I should run alone more often, but I hate running alone. 

I sucked it up and took some money out of my savings account and bought a Garmin 305.  I polled the Twitterverse and it got high marks.  I found one on sale and it should be here in a week or so.  I’ve given up using my iPhone - today it told me I ran 38 miles in 32 minutes.  Um, no.  Unfortunately I need something reliable to pace me while I get used to naturally pacing myself.  If I need to be running an 11.15 when it’s 92 degrees outside, then the Garmin will tell me in black and white whether I’m going too fast.  The heart rate monitor will tell me if I’m being a wuss or truly need to slow down.  It’s definitely worth the money.  Apparently there’s some sort of training log feature and my coach is going to store my runs there so he can gripe at me in person.  It appears that I need the ass chewing and the supervision. 

We talked about realistic goal setting.  Mine for the half:  finish without walking.  So if I’m not focused on how fast I run the half, why am I so focused on it now? 

I’m terribly fortunate to have both Theresa and Kevin in my running life.  Kevin won’t be able to watch me finish the half (and I WILL finish) as he’ll be running with the team he coaches for the marathon.  I’m bummed that he won’t see the fruits of his bitching and the fruits of my labor, but I know Theresa will be there and that means a ton to me.  And maybe I’ll get lucky and be able to keep the back of John and Stanley’s bodies in view.  Sort of the carrot in front of the horse.  I just have to remember that they are kidding when they make comments about my speed.  Theresa has even gotten sensitive about distance - she used to say, “I only ran 8 this morning”.  Now, she catches herself and simply says, “I ran 8 this morning.”  I can handle it, but appreciate the sentiment when I have days like today, where I can’t finish 3. 

PS.  I hate Virginia in the summer.  Passionately.  I can’t tell you how much running in a steam bath sucks the life out of me and makes me want to move to Alaska.  I miss Michigan terribly in the summer months. 

Here’s a few photos of the people that regularly inspire me to run or instill me with so much guilt that I run anyway. Some are nearly professionals, some are just like me (with problem areas and concerns about running tops showing off their “arm or back fat”), some don’t run at all.  Each one flits through my mind as I run - a little bit of extra juice to keep me going.  Color me lucky to have them in my life. 
(note:  i’m posting pictures without their permission.  too bad!!!) 

Theresa, before the Boston Marathon:

Kevin, half marathon: 

Stanley, my personal hero:

John, running partner and teacher in “suspect apprehension techniques”:
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Robey, who says she never runs but actually does (or she has a tapeworm):

Prissie, who is tiny and fast . . .

Mark and Gina (especially Gina who still is in better shape than me at 9 months pregnant):

Cathleen, followed by Jennifer, who both ran with me in Run Like A Mother:

And of course, Susan, even though she doesn’t run.  She’s the most amazing person I know. 
(love you Susan)