Confessions of a Non-Shopaholic

I'm a woman, and I don't like to shop. There. I said it. Don't get me wrong...occasionally I get in the mood and splurge on a few things, but not often. Usually, it's when I realize I'm washing the same pair of shorts over and over again because they are the only ones I have that fit right. Or the elastic has come loose in one pair of underwear too many. Of course, then I typically just hop over to Goodwill (for the shorts, not the underwear). I like that I can get shorts for under $4 and that I'm recycling clothes that somebody else didn't want anymore. Plus, when I get them all muddy--which inevitably happens--it's not such a big deal.

There are venues that I don't mind. For example, I love to go to the marathon expos. Running expos are like my Macy's. Or give me a gift certificate to Dick's Sporting Good, Endurance Sports or Gander Mountain. Those are stores I can get into. But when I walk into a Macy's (or any other department store) I feel over-whelmed and anxiety-ridden.

Today I decided to brave it--work on my phobia a bit. I have a Macy's exchange card that I have been holding onto for about three years (I'm surprised they let me use it), and a gift card I've had for over a year. Both had just been sitting there, collecting dust. Crazy right? What woman would not take over $100 in Macy's gift cards and spend them? I kept telling myself that when I got down to my ideal weight, I would go buy something nice with them. Yeah...well...who ever reaches their ideal weight?

This morning I ventured into Macy's with the thought that I needed some new running shorts (again, I've been washing the same pair over and over again). I assumed they'd have various brands (Under Armour, Nike, Champion, etc.). That way I could go to Macy's and still be in my comfort zone. Guess what? Macy's doesn't really carry running clothes. I mean, they have some cute workout clothes...but these are not clothes I would throw on to go for a run. I found one pair of Nike running shorts that cost $45. And even though I had more than that in gift cards, I just couldn't spend $45 on a small piece of black spandex. It just seemed insane (now spending $45 on a good bottle of wine that's gone in a few days--that doesn't bother me. Go figure).

So much for getting much needed new running clothes. Well I was in the store--gift cards in hand--so I decided to browse a bit. And I actually did purchase a few things. I bought running socks! Four pairs! Whoo hoo! I also bought a few shelf-bra tanks for summer (those who know me, know I live in those during the summer months--being not so well-endowed has its advantages). I also bought a really cute pair of summer jammies (Now a jammy store I could get into. I love pajamas), and a very colorful swimsuit cover-up/dress for our vacation this summer. That's progress for me! Of course, it was all on-sale because even with gift cards I go into sticker shock--I mean I do purchase the majority of my clothes at Goodwill.

My gift card still has a balance on it. Do I go back? Try again? Hmmm...maybe Mark and I will get online and look for a nice kitchen appliance.

Confessions of an Endurance Junkie

I think everyone has their addictions—coffee, soda, caffeine (alcohol, crack, meth...). Obviously some addictions are worse than others. For about ten years now I've been an endurance junkie.

It all started with a beginning running class for women that I took in my upper 20s. It was in that class I finally learned how to run. And we were all beginners, so it really didn't matter how fast I could run. I quickly realized I could never win races. I'm just not fast enough. Believe me, I've worked on it. I've tried to be fast. It's just not the way I was made. Endurance, however, is another story. I can't run or bike the miles fast, but I can run or bike a bunch of them.

Within a year of that running class I had signed up for my first marathon. It was the Ridge Runner Marathon in Cairo, WV. It was 26.2 miles of hills. I ran it with my friend, Cheri. And by mile 18 we were struggling. By mile 24 we felt like we were near death! As I crossed the finish line I swore I would NEVER run another marathon again. EVER! By 6pm that night I was wondering which marathon I would do next.

That's the cycle of an endurance junkie (at least in my experience). I've done six more marathons (and numerous relays and halves) since then. And each time as I struggle through miles 24 – 26 I swear I'm never doing another. Two years ago I ran the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati. Unfortunately, at the end of that marathon, my knees made the decision for me. “Enough is enough!” they said. So I had to cut back. For a year and a half I did very little distance—maybe a five-mile race or a 5k here or there. I've slowly been venturing back, seeing how my knees are going to handle it. We did a ten mile race in June. And I plan to do a half marathon in October.

Now my husband and I are training for a Century ride (100 miles) on our bikes. I took two years away from endurance. I gained weight. I slacked off on my workouts. Basically, I lacked focus. I need endurance in my life. If I can't get my fix running, I'll get it on my bike.

This will be my second Century ride. My first (much like my first marathon) was a crazy hilly ride through the Blue Ridge Mountains. At one point during a particularly harsh climb around mile 79 my quad muscles seized up on me. I would pedal a few rotations, then have to get off the bike to stretch out the cramps. I think it took me nearly an hour to get up that hill. It was hateful at the time, but looking back it makes me giddy.

This Century is a little more sane. It's mostly flat with just a few rolling hills. It's also for a charity that's very near and dear to me (M.S. Pedal to the Point), which makes it a little more meaningful.

The thing about my addiction—it's very time consuming. I mean the actual ride or race you're doing takes hours (for some of us it takes more hours than for others). But preparing for the actual event takes a real time commitment. Mark and I have been building up our biking miles for five weeks now. Which means one of our weekend days is spent on our bikes. Sure, the 40-miler didn't take too much time—maybe three hours. But yesterday's 85-mile ride literally took up our entire day. And it physically hurts to bike for that long. But the pain is where the junky tendencies come to play. The whole basis of my addiction is pushing my body physically beyond where I think it's capable of going. It hurts at the time. It's hateful at the time. But when you push past that point...past the point you feel your body can go, you get a serious high.

Endurance is my drug of choice. It keeps me focused. It keeps me trim. It keeps me strong. I'm not recommending it for everyone. It's hard on your body. My own mother thinks I'm crazy. She's a yoga instructor and feels that any time your body feels pain, you are pushing it too far. She has a point. At 39 I have the knees of a 65 year-old, and I see a chiropractor every week (if I could afford it, I would see a masseuse too)! But it's my addiction and I'm not ready to give it up yet. For me, the benefits outweigh the costs.

What's your addiction?

Letting go of time

For about 10 years now I've considered myself "a runner." Not necessarily a great runner, but I considered myself a runner nonetheless. I feel I've earned the title. I've completed eight marathons, countless shorter races, been stuck in a walking cast with a stress fracture, and weathered a foot surgery that required walking with a cane for about a month (and left the right side of my foot with no feeling). I paid my dues.

It (the running) all started when I was about 30 years old and needed to drop the weight I put on in grad school and in my sedentary job. I was living in the D.C. area and wanted to sign up for a bootcamp program that was popular, but it was just too expensive. Then I came across an ad for a beginning women's running class offered by the Washington Runhers. It only cost about $20. Sold!

I had always admired the people I saw running down the street. I wanted to be like them. I'd put on my exercise clothes, go out the front door and run down the sidewalk. By the end of the block I would be huffing and puffing so much that I stopped and walked back. It never dawned on me that there was a right way to run--and I definitely wasn't doing it right.

The class taught you how to SLOWLY build up your running endurance, along with proper form and attire. At the end you graduated by running a 5k. After the 5k I was hooked. I trained for a 10-miler and then my first marathon.

Running and I have always had our ups and downs. Injuries have put me out for awhile and it felt like starting from scratch when I got back in. But my constant struggle in running has always been my pace. Simply stated, I am not fast, yet I have always refused to accept that. Every race must have a better time than the one before! Must! But at my peak (my fitness peak, my ideal weight, my running peak), I was a 9:15 mile. Folks, a 9:15 mile will never win a race.

Then came the foot surgery. It took months after the surgery just to learn to walk normal again (with no feeling on one side of my foot, I had a terrible limp until I learned to adjust). And once I started running again, I just never got back to that 9:15 mile. I tried--repeatedly. I'd run sprints, focus on pace instead of distance for awhile, try to drop weight. But I never got back to being under a ten-minute mile.

Even during the past year I gave it another whirl. I wanted to at least be a "middle of the pack" runner again. Plus, I've put on some weight with my current desk job. So for about eight months I ran sprints. All winter on the treadmill I focused on the sprints. Guess what the result was? I learned to dread running. I didn't drop a single pound. I maybe took 30 seconds off my already slow mile and I hated every minute of it. I always felt good after the workout, but never during.

About a month ago we had a really pretty early Spring day. I came home from work and decided I wanted to go for a run outside--the first outdoor run of the season. I put my favorite running songs on and headed out the door. It was so nice outside that I just decided I would run slow and enjoy the weather.

You know what? I enjoyed my run. I enjoyed running for the first time in a long time. And when I thought back to the days before I packed on this extra 25 lbs of chunk, it was when I was running distance and didn't care about my pace. I'd just go out on a Saturday and run for hours.

So I made a decision--I'm letting go of time. I'm going to enjoy running again. I'm going to enjoy taking my time as I run on trails in the park. I'm going to smile at the dogs and cats I pass when running through the neighborhood. Sometimes it's hard to let go. Someone will sprint by you (maybe someone who looks like they are in worse shape than you) and that old competitive spirit creeps back in--you pick up the pace--try to catch them. But then the fun starts to disappear again.

This morning I ran a 5k sponsored by the Ohio River Road Runners Club (which I recently became a member of) . I put my music on and settled into my comfy pace. It was nice. I actually enjoyed a 5k (I've done many 5ks, but rarely have I enjoyed them). In the final stretch there were two ladies keeping about the same pace. The husband of one came up and encouraged them to sprint it in for the last half mile. They took off ahead of me. It hurt my ego a little, but I was happy doing my pace. I finished the race in 35:45. In the past I wouldn't even tell anyone if I finished a 5k in that amount of time. I would have been embarrassed. But I'm letting go of time. And when I met Mark at the finish (he had finished several minutes earlier) I realized that I really enjoyed the race. And I'm going to enjoy next weekend's race just as much.

I may be a tortoise at the back of the pack, but I'm a happy tortoise. And, if I'm happy with something I'll keep doing it. And to me, that's what's important.