Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Streaking
Quite by accident, I am streaking. Not the naked except for socks and shoes like I did in high school, but the run kind. That's right...I have run every day for umm, count them...
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Grace Happens
If you ever need inspiration to run a marathon, run a triathlon, to get out the door and workout or simply to get through the day, check out this article that was posted on Beginner Triathlete. Yes, cut and pasted.
Grace Happens - First Triathlon
I skipped church last Sunday to compete in my first (and last) Ironman Triathlon. It consisted of a 2.4 mile swim in Lake Erie (which I did with my ankles strapped together), a 112 mile bike race (handcycle, for me), and a full 26.2 mile marathon (for which I used a racing wheelchair). That’s 140.6 miles total of pulling, cranking, and pushing my way through the day. The clock was running for all three events. I entered the lake at 7 a.m. and finished the overall event at 10:30 p.m., in a time of 15 and a half hours. It was, to say the least, a long day. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was one of those “bucket list” things.
The low point came at mile 40 of the 112 mile bike ride. The race director had imposed an arbitrary bike leg cutoff at 5:30 p.m. By mile 40 I knew I wasn’t going to make it. At mile 55 almost all the other competitors turned off to head for the bike finish-line. They had completed two loops of the course. I was still on my first loop and had to head out again. It got very lonely out there.
Then grace happened. A state trooper appeared in front of me with lights flashing, at mile 80, to lead me the rest of the way. The race director had decided to allow me to continue! By now it was late enough in the day that the stiff headwinds off the lake had abated. My spirits were soaring. I completed the bike leg with relative ease.
The marathon course was little more than an afterthought for me, in a racing wheelchair. The runners I passed in the dark were somewhat miffed that I could roll by them so easily, but I reminded each and every one of them that I had more than paid for this privilege out on the bike course.
And then I finished. I’m an Ironman. Wanna see my medal?
I learned a few tips about life from this experience. First of all, though we train for these events with individual discipline and self control, we get by only with a little help from our friends. Wayne Chasney, past Ohio Conference Moderator, was my handler for the day. He helped with the logistics of my multiple vehicles and was assigned the task of carrying me out of the water after the swim to my hand-cycle. He needed help for that task so he found a willing volunteer, a young student named Ryan. Though Ryan was shy and struggled with Wayne to carry me through the sand, he later showed up – twice! – at an aid station outside of Berlin Heights to cheer me on. Then he and his mom showed up in Sandusky on the marathon route. Then, long after bedtime on a school night, they showed up at the finish line to cheer me in.
First Congregational UCC in Berlin Heights was my staging area on both loops of the bike course. The congregation, led by Pastor Joyce Schroer, waited for my arrivals by hosting a potluck and a little triathlon of their own for the children in the church. Joyce says it was the most fun they had together all summer. And, believe me, when the church came into view for me on the bike course, it was a highlight of my race.
But Brent and Jennifer Westover and their two foreign exchange daughters were the real cheerleaders for the day. Brent, who is chair of the Division for Outdoor Ministries, had studied the route and met me, with cowbells ringing, at almost every corner. They waved signs like, “BOB AND HIS CHAIR, POWERED BY MUSCLES AND PRAYER.” Later, after the state troopers had been pulled from the route and before my private police escort came back for me, the Westovers drove ahead of me and blocked every intersection, allowing me to roll through. They said they burned a half tank of gas escorting me that day! They pasted a sign to the back of their van that read, “UNOFFICIAL STILL SPEAKING CHASE VEHICLE.”
Another lesson I learned was that Grace Happens. You would be astounded at the extent of the preparations I had made for this race. The sheer level of training required was monumental. But the physical preparation was only part of the equation. With wheelchairs and handcycles, physical disability and medical concerns, the logistical demands were like equipping an army to march across the Sahara. I had plans, backup plans, and backup plans for my backup plans. Even so, some of my systems failed during the day. I was vulnerable. I needed help.
That moment out on the course when I realized I wouldn’t make the cutoff was devastating. Like hitting a physical brick wall. I was working harder than I should have been (or knew I could maintain). Yet my pace was already falling behind what I knew I would need to finish on time. Was all this training, expense, and energy for nothing? What was the point of even going on?
I recall talking to myself, “Should I quit? There’s no rational hope of success if I continue. On the other hand, I feel fine now. All my systems are working. I’m hydrated, well-fed, sufficiently fit. There’s still air in my tires. Why should I quit until I HAVE to quit? And who knows. Maybe a miracle will happen.” That’s the only reason I continued: counting on a miracle.
And then it showed up, in the form of a state trooper with lights flashing. As he led me along the course, we met a squadron of Harley Davidson riders. They pulled off to the side of the road and saluted me. That was pretty cool. I saluted back.
Life is a series of challenges, large and small, that we meet with the resources we have available. With planning, discipline, and determination, we can successfully meet many of them. But sometimes we’re not equal to the challenge no matter how well we’ve prepared. As humans we are mortal, fallible, and subject to limitation.
But Grace Happens. Sometimes a race director will relax a standard. Troopers will appear when hope had been lost. A jolly volunteer with cowbells, poster board, and markers will accompany us on the course. A church opens its accessible bathroom and its arms to a passing competitor. And a high school kid picks you up out of the water and carries you across the sand.
Don’t ever doubt the combined power of people, persistence, and prayer. And a hospitable course.
Grace Happens - First Triathlon
The low point came at mile 40 of the 112 mile bike ride. The race director had imposed an arbitrary bike leg cutoff at 5:30 p.m. By mile 40 I knew I wasn’t going to make it. At mile 55 almost all the other competitors turned off to head for the bike finish-line. They had completed two loops of the course. I was still on my first loop and had to head out again. It got very lonely out there.
Then grace happened. A state trooper appeared in front of me with lights flashing, at mile 80, to lead me the rest of the way. The race director had decided to allow me to continue! By now it was late enough in the day that the stiff headwinds off the lake had abated. My spirits were soaring. I completed the bike leg with relative ease.
The marathon course was little more than an afterthought for me, in a racing wheelchair. The runners I passed in the dark were somewhat miffed that I could roll by them so easily, but I reminded each and every one of them that I had more than paid for this privilege out on the bike course.
And then I finished. I’m an Ironman. Wanna see my medal?
I learned a few tips about life from this experience. First of all, though we train for these events with individual discipline and self control, we get by only with a little help from our friends. Wayne Chasney, past Ohio Conference Moderator, was my handler for the day. He helped with the logistics of my multiple vehicles and was assigned the task of carrying me out of the water after the swim to my hand-cycle. He needed help for that task so he found a willing volunteer, a young student named Ryan. Though Ryan was shy and struggled with Wayne to carry me through the sand, he later showed up – twice! – at an aid station outside of Berlin Heights to cheer me on. Then he and his mom showed up in Sandusky on the marathon route. Then, long after bedtime on a school night, they showed up at the finish line to cheer me in.
First Congregational UCC in Berlin Heights was my staging area on both loops of the bike course. The congregation, led by Pastor Joyce Schroer, waited for my arrivals by hosting a potluck and a little triathlon of their own for the children in the church. Joyce says it was the most fun they had together all summer. And, believe me, when the church came into view for me on the bike course, it was a highlight of my race.
But Brent and Jennifer Westover and their two foreign exchange daughters were the real cheerleaders for the day. Brent, who is chair of the Division for Outdoor Ministries, had studied the route and met me, with cowbells ringing, at almost every corner. They waved signs like, “BOB AND HIS CHAIR, POWERED BY MUSCLES AND PRAYER.” Later, after the state troopers had been pulled from the route and before my private police escort came back for me, the Westovers drove ahead of me and blocked every intersection, allowing me to roll through. They said they burned a half tank of gas escorting me that day! They pasted a sign to the back of their van that read, “UNOFFICIAL STILL SPEAKING CHASE VEHICLE.”
Another lesson I learned was that Grace Happens. You would be astounded at the extent of the preparations I had made for this race. The sheer level of training required was monumental. But the physical preparation was only part of the equation. With wheelchairs and handcycles, physical disability and medical concerns, the logistical demands were like equipping an army to march across the Sahara. I had plans, backup plans, and backup plans for my backup plans. Even so, some of my systems failed during the day. I was vulnerable. I needed help.
That moment out on the course when I realized I wouldn’t make the cutoff was devastating. Like hitting a physical brick wall. I was working harder than I should have been (or knew I could maintain). Yet my pace was already falling behind what I knew I would need to finish on time. Was all this training, expense, and energy for nothing? What was the point of even going on?
I recall talking to myself, “Should I quit? There’s no rational hope of success if I continue. On the other hand, I feel fine now. All my systems are working. I’m hydrated, well-fed, sufficiently fit. There’s still air in my tires. Why should I quit until I HAVE to quit? And who knows. Maybe a miracle will happen.” That’s the only reason I continued: counting on a miracle.
And then it showed up, in the form of a state trooper with lights flashing. As he led me along the course, we met a squadron of Harley Davidson riders. They pulled off to the side of the road and saluted me. That was pretty cool. I saluted back.
Life is a series of challenges, large and small, that we meet with the resources we have available. With planning, discipline, and determination, we can successfully meet many of them. But sometimes we’re not equal to the challenge no matter how well we’ve prepared. As humans we are mortal, fallible, and subject to limitation.
But Grace Happens. Sometimes a race director will relax a standard. Troopers will appear when hope had been lost. A jolly volunteer with cowbells, poster board, and markers will accompany us on the course. A church opens its accessible bathroom and its arms to a passing competitor. And a high school kid picks you up out of the water and carries you across the sand.
Don’t ever doubt the combined power of people, persistence, and prayer. And a hospitable course.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Warning Will Robinson
Summer has arrived in Texas, full force. The temps this week have teetered in the 90's and the humidity is right up there. It's been face melting humidity. Now, I am not complaining. I hate the cold, I love the heat. However, I love to run and I am a mid day runner. I've worked nightshift for years so waking up at the crack of dawn on my days off, well, it aint happening. I've tried, repeatedly. I have gotten good at waking up before the alarm clock, at least long enough to turn the alarm clock off! Mid day running means treadmill. While I am not opposed to running on the machine, I miss the outdoor runs I enjoy in the cooler months. And so I continue to set my alarm clock and hope.
I managed to drag my butt out of bed this morning when hubby brought me a cup of coffee and gently reminded me that I instructed him to wake me up before he left. I drank my coffee. checked the weather, and decided at 0830 I could manage the 82degrees. I headed out for a 30 minute run. It was hot. Very hot, but I kept going. Instead of doing a turn about at the mile mark, I decided to run the overpass knowing this was going to add another mile to my run. All is good. The bridge felt good, I made the U turn and headed home. Three quarters of a mile from home I noticed the skin on my arms were dry, my face was dry, the back of my neck was dry, the skin on my stomach was dry. I changed to a walk. Heat stroke? Heat Exhaustion? I can't ever remember which one is worse but I'm an ER nurse, I know this is probably not a good thing. I, the nurse noticed I, the stupid runner, wasn't confused, or was I too confused to know I was confused. Today is, oh hell, I work nights, I never know what day it is. The President is Richard Nixon, just kidding runner self said, I was testing your humor. I'm not amused, caring nurse said. I noted that I didn't have a headache. Oh my god, whats that pain creeping into my head. Oh shut up, you're talking yourself into it. Okay. Lets not panic. Gait steady. I know there is always a cop sitting at the fire house, it's just the next block, and I'll ask for a ride home. Oh jeeze, no cop today. Only a quarter of a mile to go, I can do this. So the running path is not next to the road, if I collapse, will the oncoming traffic see me and call for help? Should I cross the road? No, it doesn't matter. Step by step, I walked, closer to the house. A breeze picked up and helped cool me. I finally made it, I sucked down a gatorade, washed the gritty dried salt from my face, and played a game of candy crush. I survived, I'm alive, I decided morning runs just aren't my thing and I'll stick to evenings and mid day treadmill.
Friday, June 6, 2014
New Friends
They served me well but it's time to say goodbye. I'm hoping the new pair will handle the miles with the same enthusiasm and grace
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Today, A Milestone
Today, I passed the 600 mile mark since I began running in February 2013. I'm not sure why 600 is more important than 500 to me but as I crept closer and closer, the prouder I became. Yesterday I noticed my total was at 599.2 and I cursed the windy run on Monday for talking me out of an additional 0.8 miles. But today, I have all day to savor the accomplishment. I remember when I started, how did I not realize how hard this was going to be, how did I not fathom how addicting this would be? I think it took me 3 days of running to reach mile marker one.
I still mourn the unrun Disney half but it was either the trip to Disney or the trip to see my new grandson, Ethan and I chose to snuggle the new baby, sniff the newborn scent, and plant my voice in his heart. Go figure. Adrian, Ethan's mom, promised to run it next year with me, a perfect time for Ethan's 1st birthday. I haven't written a blog post since making that decision, but guess what? I'm back!
Since then I ran a few local races, ran my first triathlon (a post dedicated just to that event will follow), but mostly have run...just for the absolute joy of it.
I still mourn the unrun Disney half but it was either the trip to Disney or the trip to see my new grandson, Ethan and I chose to snuggle the new baby, sniff the newborn scent, and plant my voice in his heart. Go figure. Adrian, Ethan's mom, promised to run it next year with me, a perfect time for Ethan's 1st birthday. I haven't written a blog post since making that decision, but guess what? I'm back!
Since then I ran a few local races, ran my first triathlon (a post dedicated just to that event will follow), but mostly have run...just for the absolute joy of it.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Megs Miles (or Meg Smiles)
This past Monday, a mom, a wife, an avid runner,Meg Cross Menzies, was struck and killed by an SUV while out on a run. The driver is being charged with involuntary manslaughter and DUI, for the record. Meg's death has touched the running community deeply, me included. I belong to The Women's Running Club on Facebook and word spread quickly. Before the day ended, a plan was put in place to honor Meg by dedicating your run tomorrow, January 18, 2014, to her. A member quickly coined the term Megs Miles. A Facebook page was constructed to honor Meg and to help record the massive amount of support for her family.
Sites are popping up across the web to raise money for her family, to raise awareness, and to promote safety for runners and cyclists. Help us honor Meg tomorrow.
"This Saturday, January 18, 2014, no matter what your distance, no matter where you live, run for Meg. Take in the fresh air, be... aware of your surroundings, keep your headphones on low, feel the heaviness in your lungs, the soreness in your legs, and be grateful for it--for all of it. The sweat, the pain, the wind, the cold…everything. Be grateful for that moment."
As always, I am incredibly proud to be a member of the runners community. We didn't know Meg personally, but she is all of us.
Friday, December 6, 2013
More Gift Ideas
I know I keep a post it note on my treadmill with my target time for distance marker and out on the road, I just hope for the best! I want one of these for my half training! I have to admit, I only dream about a 2 hour half finish like the above band, I'm training for a 3 hour finish, HA!
Also, I am not affiliated with either of these companies, I am just sharing some of my finds on the web!
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