"Suddenly I See"

There seems to be a movement going on around me. I wonder if it's because bucket lists have become so popular and, as we are reaching a "certain age," we are channelling the energy of midlife (gasp) into positive things. Whatever the reason, the movement involves people being inspired to take on challenges and to move beyond comfort zones. Many people I know (especially women) are signing up for races and taking on sports and distances that once seemed impossible. We (and I purposely include myself in this collective) are refusing to be defined as "one thing." We are refusing to be unathletic, uncoordinated, weak, slow, fat, skinny, not good enough, not a runner, not a cyclist, just a suburban mom, and all the other labels that have attached themselves to us over time. And, yes, I have heard all of the above and more. For some, who have lived their lives boxed in and limited by these definitions, the break-out can be challenging and sometimes terrifying.

Some of these limiting beliefs have been taught to us at an early age, either by family or peers, and some are those that we put upon ourselves. I don't think they exist independently. Rather, they overlap and are shaped by each other until we believe them to be true. Then, before we know it, we are living our lives within these definitions or boxes that we have created. Some of us have no problem just opening the lid and climbing out, with or without a little help. For others, it takes work to erase the lines and blur the edges until we can see other possibilities. Some of them have a stronger hold than others. I do believe, however, that we have the power to crush, burn and bury them once and for all. Where do you limit yourself? What are your boxes?

When I was a new instructor, another experienced instructor told me to never let the class "choose" for themselves a section of the ride. This is the belief that, without giving them the exact road, they would not take the challenge and would not work hard. As I have grown into the teacher I am now, I realize just how false this is, and it has now become one of my favorite things to do. At times, I coach students to climb the hill how they want to climb it, to take control of the flat and do it for no one else but themselves. I still motivate and encourage through this part, but they have to do the work. And, when I really think about it, it's not that different than any other part of Spinning class. I am not changing the resistance on the bikes and I am not turning anyone's pedals for them. If you really want to benefit from coming day after day and spinning your wheels, you have to do the work. You have to decide where your limitations are (if any) and then push through them, erase the boxes, jump off the plateau. Leave them on the bike when you leave the room. Or, even better, visualize them being crushed by your wheels. They do not serve you.

In this spirit, this ride is part endurance and part strength, with 2 nice climbs. At the top of each hill, I give each student the choice of how to climb it...how to finish it...how to reach the top.

Monday Morning Climbs

1.T&F Moltosugo Remix (Let the Sunshine In)/Milk & Sugar (warm-up)

2. Listen to the Music (DJ Malibu Mix)/The Doobie Brothers

3. Suddenly I See/KT Tunstall

The above 2 songs are both ridden as flat road. I keep it in the saddle, adding in breakaways or a touch of resistance to make it tougher. Sometimes, come up out of the saddle on standing flats, especially for the chorus on song #2.

4. Place Your Hands/Reef

Hill #1 begins in the saddle with lots of good gear. Take up the resistance every 60 seconds and push the last 30.

5. Shut Up and Give Me Some Pie/Mash-up of Warrent's "Cherry Pie" and the Ting Ting's "Shut Up" by DJ Lobsterdust.

Continuing up hill #1. You're climbing in the saddle and powering up to a standing climb at 15 second intervals (both in the saddle and out).

6. Eminence Front/The Who

Here's the choice...you have 5.5 minutes to get to the top...you choose how to get there. All I ask is that you increase the resistance and make it tougher every 60 seconds. You should be wishing for the flat when this is over.

7. Fire in a Bottle/Mash-up of the Police's "Message in a Bottle."

Hit the saddle, if you are not already there, drop resistance, find the breath you lost on that climb, and let your heart rate recover. You only have 2:40 here and I want to see how quickly you can turn it back up and take hill #2.

8. Step to Silence/Mashup by DJ Matt Hite

2 rollers here...1 minute seated climb, add resistance and take a 30-second standing climb, then do a 30-second run with resistance as you pick up the cadence and break through all that gear. Sit it down, drop a little resistance off, but stay on a climb, and do it again.

9. Show Me What I'm Looking For/Carolina Liar

Second section of hill #2...seated climbs with switchbacks out of the saddle at the chorus. If you "use the music," it should give you about 30-second intervals with a longer push at the end of the song. Take the resistance up before you come out of the saddle and try not to drop it when you sit down. Your quads will love you for it!

10. I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (Rattle and Hum Version)/U2

Just like hill #1, the top of hill #2 is a choice. It's all up to you. Take the resistance up every minute, and you have 6 minutes to the top and a glorious, well-earned flat on the other side (if you did your work).

11. Disco Lies (Spencer & Hill remix)/Moby

12. Fanfare (Masterpiece Theater)/Michael van der Kuy

After the 2 hills, you get about 30 seconds to re-group, hit the flat road, and start the push for the line. I usually do some sitting/standing intervals during song 11, but song 12, is an all-out, in the saddle push. I want you to pick it up (cadence, resistance or both) every 60 seconds until there are 2 minutes left. Then, we make it tougher every 30 seconds. The entire last minute is a "build" until you cross through the line...

13. Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth.../Primitive Radio gods

14. Crash Into Me/Dave Matthews Band

Breathe, consciously lower your heart rate, cool-down and stretch.

Shifts

Have you ever received a message, whether it be from the universe, God, Goddess, spirit, or your intuition? You know the kind...the kind you either try to ignore or the kind you notice, but push it aside for now. My latest one has been clear and it's all about shifting. I mostly embrace the changes that come my way, even if they are very painful at first. Lately, however, I have been feeling less of a dramatic change and more of a shift, a transfer, a movement. The voice has been telling me that my life is shifting. Some of the shifts are completely conscious, based on choices I am making, and others, not so much. I am not teaching as much Spinning as I used to, or as much as I would like. At one gym, my classes are full or overbooked consistently. I visualized this happening so the students would get annoyed at being closed out and ask for me to be on the schedule more, which they did, repeatedly. It hasn't happened. I have also had to drop classes due to personal scheduling conflicts and a studio closing down. I have been fighting this for a while now, putting the energy forward, as I love to teach. But, because it isn't changing, I am now accepting that things are shifting for me. Of course, I will not stop teaching and, if the classes come my way, I will grab them, but it is no longer my priority. I hear the message. It is time to move forward, to put more energy into developing my own business, seeing private clients for Reiki, counseling and coaching. It is time for me to get hands-on with people who want to see their potential, remove the haze that covers their own greatness and get off their plateaus. I have graduated form my spiritual counseling program, have been offered office space, business cards are printed and projects are in the works. I hope to take my knowledge from the classroom, both as a teacher and a student, and share it with those who are ready.

My shift into running has continued, and I just completed the NYC Marathon this past Sunday. It has been an unbelievable journey, more than I could even anticipate, and I am going to share some of my (long) race report at the end of this post. Challenging myself to go to places that are uncomfortable, both emotionally and physically, is the only way I know how to grow. To shift.

So, I ask the universe to keep "bringing it on." On my end of the contract, I will keep accepting it and sharing it forward. I hope my stories and work can be an inspiration, motivating other students to believe that anything is possible. Anything.

2009 ING New York City Marathon Race Report:

October 30th, 2009

Tomorrow is Halloween, usually my favorite holiday, and there are not even pumpkins on my steps. I am usually preparing a costume, getting the kids excited and ready to trick-or-treat. This year, I am thinking about my carb intake, my sleep, my marathon-morning clothing, my music and my dry clothes bag. Part of it is that Halloween is on a Saturday and the kids are with their dad for most of it. Part is that all my focus has been on Sunday, 2 days away, the NYC Marathon, my first marathon in the greatest race there is.

We went to the expo yesterday, which was tiring, but great. I hadn’t slept well in 2 nights and I was really feeling it. We saw famous athletes, race organizers and lots of people like me, who are simply in it for the experience. We went to Central Park and walked the last part of the race, feeling the pitch in the road, passing under the 26-mile banner and up to the finish line. We touched the statue of Fred Lebow for good luck. The park is bright with fall colors and the ground is scattered with yellow leaves. The blue line that follows the course was to be painted last night. As I looked at the empty bleachers that will be filled on marathon Sunday, I thought of what I might be feeling as I cross past the 26 mile mark and run the last .2 to the finish line. I breathed in and put the energy out there that I will be elated, high, feeling strong and happy and accomplished. I will know for sure in 2 days, but that’s my intention, and I know the universe will provide.

My kids were with Tim and I in the city yesterday. They have grown up in a household where exercise is the norm. I know they did not want to spend their day off from school at a race expo in NYC but, as I looked at them skipping through Central Park, covered with race stickers and give-a-ways from the expo, I felt great about having dragged them along. Even if it took promising a visit to the Times Square Toys ‘R Us to keep them in line, and a few expected melt-downs (both theirs and mine), I am glad that they came. I love that endurance sports are a “normal” part of life for them, that they don’t get amazed by running or biking distances because they are so used to seeing it. I wonder if, when they attempt it someday, they will realize just how difficult it can be. Conversely, I wonder if it won’t seem that hard because they won’t have the mental block of how impossible it should seem. Even though we told them, I know they don’t really “get it” that they were in the presence of legends yesterday, like Paula Radcliffe, Grete Weitz and the first female amputee to finish Ironman Hawaii, Sarah Rinertsen. However, what I really hope is that they remember seeing this finish line and being in Manhattan with me before I ran my first marathon. I hope that they are imprinted and inspired to follow along, challenge themselves and jump off their own plateaus, in whatever arena of life.

2 days...I am emotional, excited, nervous and in a bit of denial. I prefer to stay that way. All I can do is send the energy forward and let the rest of the experience unfold as it will. I taught my first Reiki class last weekend and one of the students gave me a gift that Terri dropped off his morning. It is a little plaque that says “Just For Today,” the lead-in to all of the 5 Reiki principles we teach. “Just for Today” reminds us to stay in the present and not waste energy. Eventually, each “today” links with the one that has passed. Just for today, I will not worry. Just for today, I will not be angry. Just for today, I will be grateful for my many blessings. Just for today, I will do my work honestly. Just for today, I will be kind to all human beings and living things. Just for today.

November 1st, 2009-Race Day

I had a little trouble falling asleep last night. I was cranky with Tim and that continued into the morning. I have started to see a pattern. It seems like when I am anxious about racing, I get really sensitive and my threshold drops considerably. Stuff that should roll off my back becomes much larger than it needs to be. Lesson learned, to be fixed for next time.

I was up before the 4:00 alarm, the time change making it a little more bearable. It was raining and dark and cold. I was all charged up. When we got to Let There Be Bagels and I saw my friends and fellow runners, I calmed down a bit. The van ride to Staten Island went fast, the daylight broke and we were lining up (the first crowded line of many today) to get into the staging area. We found a spot of grass and parked ourselves for the next few hours...the wait before the start.

10:00 am and I am standing in a corral of hundreds of people waiting for our start. It is cold, but I am shedding both metaphorical and literal layers as we are led to the line. We hear the cannon boom, “New York, New York” playing over the loudspeakers and, before I know it, our watches have started and we are running on the lower level of the Verrazano Bridge. I am choked up, taking in the moment, not even thinking about the journey that is to unfold. I shed my last layer somewhere on the bridge. It is not too crowded and the bridge is not bouncing, as is the legend. This is because they do not start all 40,000 of us at the same time as they used to. We now go off in waves, in a staggered start. I am feeling good, we are on pace and, as we come down the other side into Brooklyn, I hear the first spectator cheers. As we get deeper into the borough, the crowds deepen, the screaming is louder and I am completely overwhelmed. I fight back the tears. I am on cloud 9, my feet are not even hitting the pavement. I am running the New York City Marathon. I am really in it.

Brooklyn flies by, the early miles are easy and on pace. We stop to take pictures. There are bands playing on the roadside, runners are happy and exited. I finally start to think about the path ahead, sending energy out before me.

At the 1/2 marathon mark, I am good. I feel great about my pace, am starting to feel a little sore, but not too bad. I am taking fluid and gels regularly. However, somewhere on the 59th street bridge, my stomach starts to growl. The tank is empty and I am worried. It is only mile 17. I have no real food to re-fuel, just gels and some jelly beans. I don’t tell Tim, knowing we are coming to an infamous point in the race...the turn on to First Avenue, and that I am due for a gel. Sure enough, like an ocean wave getting closer, the screams from the crowd below become evident. It was a really long bridge, my parents were supposed to be at the bottom, and this was pulling me through. When we make the left turn onto First, I do not see them and I am upset. All of the emotions of hitting this spot in the race, not seeing my parents and the obvious fatigue that had hit both my legs and my reserves combined into one big mess. I slow to take my gel and feel a wave overtake me and I know I am going to pass out. I have never felt anything like it before. I begin to panic, making the feeling worse. I stop and tell Tim something is “really wrong,” and that I am “going down.” I am losing it fast. I see myself sprawled out in the middle of First Avenue. He puts his arm around me, solid and strong, and tells me he is not going to let that happen. He tells me to walk and guides me through deep breaths. He tells me he is not going to let me psych myself out. It is not like a wall, it is more like a wave. It is not my legs, it is my blood sugar. It is totally unexpected and scary. So, all my hopes of breaking 4 hours and 30 minutes and all of the cool things about running First Avenue dissipate as quickly as my carb reserves, and I walk. I eat a bag of jelly beans and I walk. I walk for what feels like forever, with First Avenue and the multi-colored sea of runners’ heads in front of me stretching out to the horizon. It is going to be a long finish.

The jelly beans do their job. I get through the panic and begin to feel good enough to run again. Tim wants to walk every 5 minutes, but the walking has begun to tighten up my legs. He is not understanding this and I am practically begging him to let me just run. Somehow, I make it through Harlem and the Bronx and over one last bridge and back into Manhattan, on the East Side of the park. Miles begin to blur, the pain up the back of my legs begins to intensify and I scan the crowd for any inspirational quotes to get me through. I find, “Your feet hurt because you are kicking so much ass.” and “Pain is temporary, pride is forever.” I tell myself to enjoy these last hours, that this whole experience is flying by and it will be over all too soon.

Mile 23 is here. Why it is imbedded in my memory, I have no idea, but it is so vivid. I have a photo of this mile marker, but I don’t need it. Runners are suffering, crowds are screaming (really screaming) encouragement, we are turning into the park soon and I am crying. My legs are on fire and my mind begins to drift. I think of my kids. Through fundraising for Team Reeve, I think of the stories I heard about those with spinal cord injuries, those who used to be runners and how they can no longer use their legs. I think of Tim running beside me and how much we have both been through, together and independently during the past year. I think of how difficult the end of August and September were, on both my spirit and body. I think of what an old friend posted on my Facebook page, something about just putting one foot in front of the other. For all of this, I am so grateful and it is the gratitude that makes the pain seem not so bad. The tears evaporate and the strength comes from a place I cannot explain.

We are in the park and it is hilly and the crowds are crazy. I feel like they are expending more energy cheering us on than I am with my labored stride. Tim is talking me through the final miles, the hills, the turns, the dips and plateaus. We come out of the park onto Central Park West, familiar territory from our expo visit. I finally see my parents, but cannot stop. I give them a thumbs up, and push on for the finish. I am crying again, but I am feeling no pain. Turning back into the park for the last stretch is indescribable. Tim tells me that if I want him to cross the line with me, I have to slow down. No problem. I am breathing only to avoid sobbing. My feet are moving on their own-I am out of my body. I cross under the 26-mile banner, feeling elated, high, strong, happy and accomplished. Then out of nowhere, I hear Tim on my left, shouting, “This is it! This is your day! Enjoy it! Take it all in! You will never have a first again! This is all for you!” As long as I live, I will never forget this moment and his voice, louder than I have heard it all day. All I can think is “I am FINISHING the New York City Marathon.” I am sobbing as I grab his hand, we lift our arms and cross over the line.

4:44:28. I am hugging Tim, feeling his arms around me, sobbing into his chest. I think we must look like the marathoners’ version of that couple in the famous Woodstock shot. I feel like the rest of the world has vanished. The woman who gives me the medal sees me crying and gently rubs my arm. While the story does not end here, this is the moment where the lessons become evident and the accomplishment is the most palpable.

What did I learn? I learned to lean. I learned to let someone lead me and to listen. I learned to enjoy the journey. Would I like a faster time? Of course. However, If someone told me that I could have the better numbers on the paper, but I would have to trade my experience for that, I would laugh and say “no thanks.” Never. I would never trade the goofing around, the picture taking, the joy of running with someone I love and who loves me enough to have taken on this journey with me, who can sometimes be oh-so difficult. Most of all, I would not trade the test. I do feel like I am tested a lot in my life and this was no exception. I learned that I can get my emotions under control when I need to and that I have deep, deep reserves of strength.

So, the new sneakers and the winter running gear have been ordered and some have arrived. The next race is in the close distance and a really huge challenge looms in the future. Even better than saying, “I am a runner,” I can now say “I am a Marathoner.” And, yes, the pain is long gone and the pride WILL last forever.

"You have done what few will ever do -- you have done what you thought you could never do -- and it is the most glorious, unforgettable awakening ever. You are, a Marathoner, and you will wear this distinction not on the lapel of your clothing, but in your heart, for the rest of your life." ~Dean Karnazes

Race Day!

I just noticed the first leaves turning yellow and falling to the ground and, as I log in to write this post, I can't believe that I have neglected this as much as I have. I have started 3 posts that went unfinished and have had all good intentions, but it just hasn't happened. It has been an unbelievably busy summer and I have been living out of suitcases more than I'd like to admit. Used to the convenience of the school bus to take the kids door to door, I have had to readjust to driving, scheduling and making sure everyone is supposed to be where they are supposed to be, including myself! However, even with all this craziness, even with the school supplies spread out around me on the floor, and I wonder how time can possibly move so fast, I look back on a full and fufilling summer. A cruise, a camping trip and a mini "Eat, Pray, Love" vacation (kid-free) for me are the memories that anchor this year. In between them are strung water parks, swimming pools, sandy feet, American Idols, bonfires, sunflowers, wine tasting, dancing, many runs, a foot injury, the culmination of 2 years of my own school program, personal growth, manifestations beyond my wildest dreams, smiles and laughter and tears and, oh yeah, that Spinning thing.

Yes, while my schedule dwindled a bit this summer, due to the doors closing at a small, personalized studio, I still taught as much as possible. It is still the rare day that I get on the bike and do not want to be there. I am contnually inspired by the students who come to ride and the ones who make the choice to climb out of their comfort zones. I see it in their expressions and body language when it is happening. I feel it when someone is in the zone and is pushing harder than they thought they could. I am honored to be witness to the process and the emotions that sometimes follow.

It is with all this in mind, that I teach the "Race Day" ride. I teach it with intensity and heart rate, I teach it with hills, but I teach it without much position guidance. I want students to find their flow. I want them to be present and ride it how they want to ride it. I want them to find their limits and then push through them. I coach them to push right through the finish line, not just cross over it. As always, if someone in the room does not want to ride at the upper range of their heart rate, then they will be exactly where they need to be.

This summer has certaintly felt like a race at times and it's not even over. However, I also think I have stopped and enjoyed and given gratutude for the amazing moments that have happened, and there are many. My wish for those who Spin with me is to do the same.

Race Day! music (I purposely choose longer songs for this ride):

1. Don't Stop 'Till You Get Enough/Michael Jackson (warm-up)

2. Disco Lies (Spencer and Hill Remix)/Moby

3. Beautiful Day (Quincey and Sonance Mix)/U2

4. You Can't Always Get What You Want (Re-Mixed and Re-Edited by SoulWax)/Rolling Stones

5. All My Friends/LCD Soundsystem

6. I've Got a Feeling I'm Just Fine/Mash-Up of The Black Eyed Peas and Mary J.

7. Human (Ferry Corsten Club Remix)/The Killers

8. Break On Through (To The Other Side)[Remix]/BT vs. The Doors

9. Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own/U2 (cool down)

10. Do You Remember/Jack Johnson

Race Day! Profile (coached with heart rate):

5 minute warm-up

2 minute flat

2 minute climb

1 minute standing flat

3 minute climb

5 minute flat

6 minute climb

5 minute flat

3 minute climb

1 minute standing flat

1 minute flat

2 minute climb

2 minute flat

last 12 minutes: alternating between 1 minute climbs and 1 minute flats, ending on a all-out push through the line.

Race Day (pt. 2)...The Full Circle Moment

It's late, I'm tired and I know this will not be finished tonight, but the thoughts of today's race are still blowing around in my mind, much like the wind we saw on Long Island today.  

In addition to my half-marathon training, I decided to take on my first multi-sport race, a sprint distance duathlon that I have been wanting to do for years.  It's a 2 mile run, followed by a 10.5 mile bike, followed by another 2 mile run.  I was at this race 8 years ago, as a spectator.  I remember looking at the women racing, thinking that I should be out there too, but I was taking care of babies and then busy getting divorced and then taking care of young children.  A few years ago, it became an important goal of mine, as well as a mental hurdle.  I hung the race description in my room and planned to get there.  A few months ago, I still did not think it would be this spring. However, by adding in the run training to all the spinning I teach, it became a possibility.    

As with the half-marathon, I was nervous, but this was a different situation.  I looked up past results and knew, if I was strong that day, I could possibly get an age group placing.  I did not tell this to anyone (except one good friend).  I held the vision in my mind and I saw myself on the "podium."  Sometimes, I really let my imagination run wild, and envisioned myself on the OVERALL podium, not just with a strong age-group finish.  Tim would be there, but as a support only, relinquishing any coaching duties he had after the half-marathon was over.  This was all me.  

I had been doing "brick sessions" (going from biking to running or vice versa) out of necessity during half-marathon training because it was the only way I could fit in runs. However, these were mostly indoors.  I'd go from the treadmill to the Spin room to the treadmill.  My major goal for the duathlon was to put up a good bike split.  I am a Spinning instructor, after all.  I'd make sure I was taking my own advice and use good resistance during classes.  Due to my busy schedule and the horrible weather we've been having in New York, I'd only completed one ride outside before race day, but it was strong and I was confident I was ready.

On the drive there, I asked Tim, who has completed numerous triathlons and 4 Ironman distance races, for his advice on my first multi-sport experience.  Should I go easy on run #1, how about transition, etc??  He said three things:  "Have fun.  Be a kid. Hear me in your head telling you to slow down."  Ugh.  We followed with a discussion on being competitive and if it is healthy.  I wanted to do well during this race, I was feeling really competitive, and I felt like I had something to prove.  It was challenging for me to release this aspect of my thinking.

Arriving at a multi-sport race is an experience in itself.  The bodies and the gear of the "top" competitors are often ridiculous.  I can almost smell the testosterone in the air as people size one another up in transition....their bikes, their wheels, their toys, their gear.  I tried to stay detached as I racked my bike and figured out my set-up for transition.  And then, I took a deep breath.  I was really doing this.  After YEARS of spectating and supporting races and watching the nonsense unfold from outside the tape of the transition area, I was setting myself up inside of the tape.  I knew no one who was doing the race.  This was all mine.   

Tim and I took a walk to calm me down.  My achilles was still sore from the half-marathon the week before and from a few brick sessions during the week.  I did not want to run on it before I needed to.  Soon, we were told to line up, got some race briefings, and they sounded the horn.  I set off at a good pace and felt really comfortable running.  I knew I was running fast, but it was only 2 miles.  When I hit the 1 mile marker, I looked down at my watch and had to look 2 more times.  All I could think was, "Oh God, I ran that first mile waaaay to fast."  I heard Tim in my head, "psssst...SLOW down."  So, I did, a little.  I came into transition, did my fumbling best for a first timer, and hit the bike.

This race is notoriously windy.  The course is flat, but the wind presents a challenge. The forecast for the day was sunny (a welcomed break from all the rain we'd had) but WINDY.  In fact, it was so windy that Tim advised me to rack my bike with my handlebars instead of my seat, because it looked like some of the bikes were going to blow off the racks.  During the first section of the bike, I was flying.  The wind was at my back and I opened it up.  I was passing many other riders who probably thought I was going to blow up, but I needed to get in some speed before I hit the inevitable wall of wind.  I knew there was a turnaround and that it was coming.  Yet, all I could think about was how great it felt to be out on a stretch of road, no cars, just cruising along.  I did feel like a kid and it was so much fun.  Even before the turnaround, the wind shifted and was coming from the front right.  Brutal.  There was very little reprieve after the turnaround, and then it came from the left.  A couple of gusts caught me and pushed my bike sideways.  For the last section of the loop, it was head-on, dead-on, like hitting a brick wall.  At times, I slowed over 10 MPH from my quickest pace.  There were 3 loops...2 more times to go through it, and now that I had done 1, I knew the majority of it was spent fighting the wind.  

I decided not to fight.  I just kept breathing, kept myself as aero as possible and pushed through it, using it to my advantage when I had it.  I heard my own voice from hundreds of Spinning classes, giving encouragement, and just dug deep through the rough sections.  I continued to pass people and, I knew that, if I was riding with the guy whose back wheel was worth more money than my whole bike, I was having a good day.  I kept people like that in sight, knowing I had put up a pretty good time and was thrilled with what I had done.

I was so psyched to be out of the wind on the last turn that I overshot the entrance back into transition.  I somehow got focused on the signs for the bike mount and did not see signs or anyone flagging me into the dismount.  I was confused, looking for it, and started asking where it was.  Someone from the sidelines told me I missed it and a race official told me to get off and walk my bike back to the correct entrance.  I let out a litany of curses, knowing I was wasting valuable time, trying to get back to where I should have been. While it was not clearly marked, it was also a rookie mistake, as I should have known exactly where I was to enter.  

I crossed the timing pads flustered, with my hands shaking, racked my bike and got ready for the run.  Tim followed me over and said three things over my left shoulder: "You are the third woman overall, have a strong run, and blue helmet who just came in is number 4."  WHAT??? I was in total shock.  ME?  Third woman overall?  I'll admit, I laughed and said, "Holy shit."  Isn't this what I asked for?  Going from just wanting to do a race, to racing for a top 3 finish is a whole different mindset.  Since I am not as strong a runner, I knew I'd have to dig deep to hold the other women off.  From the first step, my legs were wobbly and weak.  I felt all the work my quads had done in the prior 30 minutes to push through the wind.  As I hit the pavement, I started to catch a male runner ahead of me.  He told me to go by, that he was cramping.  He made some small talk as I passed and told me I was going to medal.  I was struggling and blurted, "This is my first multi-sport race and I'm in third and she's behind me and she's fast and I think I went out to fast..and, and, and."  He told me to just run, to use my arms, to drop my right shoulder and my chin and just run.  He started feeling better and kept encouraging me as he stayed with me for a few strides and then moved ahead.  I looked back.  He told me not to look back.  A few men passed me and then I saw a girl coming, fast.  I knew I could not hold her off as I felt my pace slowing.  It was a long mile and 1/2.  I felt my shoes slipping and sinking into the mud on the trail.  I felt my breath hard and heavy.  I was tense.  I told myself to breathe, over and over again.  She caught and passed me and I resigned that, even if I was not overall, I had secured an age group placement and that was awesome for me.  I ran hard the last half mile, knowing I was close, finished strong and felt unbelievable.  Just when I had given up on my overall placement, I learned that the girl who had run past me was part of a relay.  I knew I had been passed by no other women.  If Tim's count was correct, third place was mine.  We waited until they posted the overall results.  As we scrolled the list, I knew it was true.  I had placed third.  I was that kid again, giving Tim a high-five and a hug and it felt so amazing.  I did not stop smiling for a while.  

It was Mother's Day, and my kids had not been at the race.  It was a great moment to share with them how good I did, and to see them excited for me.  I was high for the rest of the day.  When the split times were posted, I learned that I tied for the second best female bike split and, if I had not messed up my entrance to transition, I would have been the fastest woman out there.  

I do not train on a team and I do not ride an expensive road bike with all the bells and whistles.  I work hard at what I have the time to do, taking full advantage of that time.   I more than set a goal.  I set the goal, and did both the physical and mental work.  In my mind, I let myself see and feel what it would be like to place in a race.  I put the energy out there before I even got to the start line.  Did I manifest my result?  Yes.  I truly believe it.  Just as I manifested all the road blocks before the last race, I created my results in this one.  I let myself have the fun of going in my mind where I would otherwise be "embarrassed" to go.  Remember, no one knows what you are thinking, you can dream as big as you want.  However, you also have to believe it and do the work around it and feel the emotions of what it would be like to get where you want to go, wherever it is....

If you've read, thanks for taking this detour with me.  There will be more races in my future, including a full marathon in the fall.  For now, I'm going to clip back in to the Spin bike and have more profiles and playlists on the way.  Happy Riding!

Race Day..."What A Long Strange Trip it's Been."

The highest hurdle for this half-marathon run was getting to the start line.  I knew that, once I started, I would finish the race.  If I had to go much slower, walk, whatever, I would finish the race.  Starting was another story.  My nerves were not about my finishing time.  Considering how my training had been stalled and I was coming off a stomach flu, I had given up on that long ago.  I was concerned about how bad I might feel.

I'll admit, I was emotional race morning.  I was thinking back over the past 6 months of my life.  I was thinking back to the new year and my resolution to be happy.  I was thinking that, 3 months ago, trying to run this distance was not even on my radar.  I was thinking about squeezing in training between kids, work, school and countless other obligations.  I was thinking about how I hadn't run in forever.  My stomach was still not right after being sick.  It was raining.  I was thinking about how I almost sabotaged myself and then vowed that I would get there.  I was thinking way too much. Driving there, I started feeling angry, at myself, at my coach and running partner for the day, and at all the crap that had gone on for the past few weeks. He told me, later, that when I parked the car and let it run for the next 5 minutes in silence, he did not know if I was going to get out to start. 

At the start line, there was much nervous energy.  I looked at Tim and said, "My longest run was 10 miles and it was on a TREADMILL!"  I honestly don't remember his response, but it calmed me.  I told myself that this was just another run and that, if I could teach back-to-back Spinning classes, I could handle this.  As the horn sounded, I put one foot in front of the other and ran.  It was a slow start, trying to find space among so many people.  I was glad for the slow pace, as it gave me a chance to assess how I was feeling.  Feeling the little aches and pains, as I warmed up, let my body know we were doing this.  Overall, I felt great.  In fact, I was surprised at how great.

Pace had been my biggest issue during training.  I am not a fast runner to begin with, so to slow down even more can be very demoralizing for me.  I want to be faster...I have always wanted to be faster.  However, we really did not know how my body was going to hold up over time, so I needed to take it really easy at the beginning, which I did.  I realized during the first miles that this was enabling me to really enjoy what I was doing. I wasn't expending too much energy, I was just out for a nice relaxed run.  I soon became aware of holding on to the emotional tension that had so built up over the past few weeks, and started to release it.  I began to joke with Tim about the scenery we were passing, playing tour guide and commentating on our surroundings: "And here, on our right, we have the beautiful concrete structure of the Nassau Coliseum,"  "We are now crossing over the amazing Meadowbrook Parkway," "And, up ahead, we have two lovely factory smokestacks spewing out into our atmosphere..." Now, Long Island has many beautiful areas, but this race course is not one of them, not in any way.  This shifted things for me simply because it gave me an excuse to start laughing.  At the same time, I overheard  a conversation near me about someone who was running with a serious illness and, with that, I received the gift of perspective that often arrives just when we need it.  I said a silent prayer of gratitude, started smiling and did not stop for the rest of the time.  Once we take away all of the noise, it's all very simple.  At this point, by mile 3, I knew I was feeling good, I got into a groove and soon the miles just started falling away.

Problem with my groove was that I wanted to run faster.  Tim was on my left and, for probably 5 miles (he'd probably say more), spent his time reining me in.  Over and over and over, he'd have to tell me to slow down, pull back.  Sometimes he'd make an annoying noise (somewhere between a whistle and a "pssst") that I'd hear behind my left shoulder and, only then, I knew I'd pulled too far ahead.  I started to complain.  I started to get irritated.  He told me that if I wanted to open it up a little more at mile 10, I could.  I did not want to wait that long.  I was feeling good.  He told me that he was expending too much energy trying to hold me back and I snapped, "Just let me run MY race."  I think he told me he was going to let me learn my lesson.  That was the only moment of frustration I felt, and this, I knew, was highlighting one of my biggest issues.  I am fiercely independent.  In general, I don't like to rely on anyone for help or support.  I have a hard time asking for it and a hard time accepting it.  I don't want to "need" anyone. I worked hard on this during training runs because I knew I had to listen and learn and change things in order to run distance.  However, on race day, I did not want to listen to anyone.  It took a little while and a little self-talk, but I got myself in check.  I felt supported and, while he did not know how my body felt, he is the experienced one.  Once again, I surrendered.  I know I still pulled ahead at times, but I trusted just a little bit more. 

I don't remember much of the course or where we ran, but I do remember crossing over the 10K point and commenting that I was now running longer in a race than I ever had.  At mile 8, I remember feeling some doubts about how my body was feeling, but it passed very quickly.  Besides, the last thing I wanted to hear from behind my left shoulder was, "I told you so."  At mile 9, I was high.  I was grateful for the rain and the lack of wind.  Somewhere during this time, I made a comment about what I was learning and Tim asked me what my lessons were.  In that moment, I said "emotional control, and learning to hold back."  Now I know there are many more.

At mile 10, we did pick up the pace and I started to feel it.  But, I wanted to push a bit so we did.  Tim asked me how much harder it felt and I said about 20% harder.  He asked me if working that much harder was worth taking the minute or so off of my finishing time.  I was thinking, "Yes, dammit!  You know how competitive I am...I don't care if it's SECONDS!"  But, I said, "Ok, let me just see how I feel in a few minutes."  At mile 11, I began to feel the emotions.  I was not only going to finish this race, but I was going to finish it strong and feeling really good.  I wasn't going to do it as fast as I would like, but I was going to do it faster than I thought I was at the beginning of the day.

  

We turned into the park for the last mile and I did not care how far ahead I ran.  He had given me the green light and I picked it up.  However, being in the park was tough because it is a narrow paved path and we were running with a large group of mid-pack runners.  We were passing them one by one and it was difficult to weave in and out safely.  This frustrated me, but I kept moving.  By the last 1/4 mile, Tim passed me fast and started encouraging me to pick it up even more and keep up with him.  I was screaming in my head that, for all this time he kept telling me to slow down and NOW I'm having to chase him.  I told him my legs didn't have it (which he did not accept) and I was just praying to see the line.  I kept up as fast as I could and then I finally felt the line under my feet.  My breathing was fast and heavy, my legs were shot, I grabbed my medal and silver blanket, walked to the side, and let the tears come just a little bit.  What a release.

Having been around athletic people for much of my life, even running 13.1 miles did not seem like much of an accomplishment to me.  I know that sounds insane to some, but that's truly how I felt.  Out on that course, something changed my mind. At one point, I thought, "this is a long f-ing time to be running!!"  And it is, and I never felt bad, which was the greatest part.

So, I could sit here and end with all the flowery stuff I have been writing-about journeys and lessons learned, and thought processes, and blah blah blah. But, if I did not acknowledge my competitive side and say that finishing time doesn't matter at all, I'd be a fraud.  I am an athlete, that is part of who I AM.  Yes, I wish I was faster and I did have a moment of let-down after the race.  I know I can run it better, but that's what the next one is for, that's what experience is for, and that is what will keep me running instead of stopping once a goal is reached, as I have always done in the past. 

At my Spinning class the next day, those who knew I had done the run asked about it and how I did, and I shared some of what I wrote today.  Someone asked what the hardest part was and I joked, "listening to Tim slow me down the whole time" (and mile 8).  I talked about how I did not even know if I was going to do it.  We talked about my time and, in yet another questionable moment, after everything I had done, I said the following out loud: "Well, you know I'm not really a runner." And then, from off one of the bikes in the middle of the room, someone simply replied, "Well you are now."  

For both fun and perspective, I asked Tim to be a guest blogger on this post, sharing his thoughts on the race:

"The body does not want you to do this. As you run, it tells you to stop but the mind must be strong. You always go too far for your body. You must handle the pain with strategy...It is not age; it is not diet. It is the will to succeed." - Jacqueline Gareau, 1980 Boston Marathon champ

 

Jen’s ½ Marathon Race Report – from a different, and unique perspective.

 

Jen had spent enough time watching from the sidelines to have a better understanding of what it takes to run a ½ marathon (13.1 miles) than most other first timers do. “Put me in coach, I’m ready to play” were the words she had spoken softly for the past few years. This year, Jen decided to “shout” those words, and she was heard. Be careful what you wish for, because Jen was summoned to get in the game and go play.

 

There is no “one size fits all” training program, and Jennifer’s program needed to be adapted to fit her lifestyle and ever competing struggle of attempting to balance work, play, and school, all while being a single mother of 2 highly energetic boys. Jen continued to undergo weeks of stress, sickness, and a few bumps/roadblocks during her training program, but managed to make it to the starting line due to her personal commitment and resiliency to whatever life threw at her.

 

I could sit here and access all of the things that we did right with her training, as well as all of the things we did wrong and could improve upon. I could provide details of the race, analyzing each mile, while being overly critical of what we would do differently next time to improve our results. However, I’d prefer to highlight Jen’s dream and her accomplishment. After having sat on the sidelines long enough, Jen had the courage to shout “Put me in coach, I’m ready to play”. Having the courage to sign up for a race is easy, but committing to do the training while overcoming all of the hurdles and obstacles along the way is easier said than done. This dream was something that Jen was willing to work for, investing hours of time, energy, as well as a lot of sweat to making this dream happen. Jen admittedly took responsibility and choose not to let anything defeat her, which is why she not only started the race, but finished it, and in crossing the finish line, was no longer that person watching from the sidelines.

On Becoming a Runner (pt. 2)

My original intention for this post was to pick up where I left off and write about run training. What happens when a Spinning instructor takes off the clips and starts training for a half-marathon?  I planned to write about using cross-training machines (hate them, but they work) and jumping on treadmills before and after teaching classes.  I planned to write about how I felt crossing over into mileage I'd never done, how I felt about about slowing down (me?) and changing my stride to help with endurance.  I planned to write about running 10 miles on a treadmill, my first trail runs, and being a student.

While all of this will play a role, I realized, as I received my race number and packet this morning, that this post is not at all about these things.  This post is more about the mind than the body and how our thought processes can get us to our goals or render them impossible.  

I casually mentioned to a new boyfriend, and runner, that I was always interested in doing some longer distance and multi-sport races.  At this time, I was not running at all.  Soon after, I received the following in an email, with a training schedule soon to follow:  "There is no pressure to do a race, however, I'd love to be the one to make a difference in your life and introduce you to the world of running (pain-free). "  I don't know...maybe it was all the endorphins from being in a new relationship or maybe it was the thought of actually getting off my own plateau and pushing myself a bit, but I decided to sign on.  However, here was what I actually said:  "Oh sure, but I have signed up for things before and something ALWAYS happens to prevent me from doing them, but I'll try."  Oops.

I KNOW better than that. I know, not just from teachers' theorizing, but from actual personal experience, that we get what we put out there.  Whether you've watched or read "The Secret,"  whether you've read Dr. Wayne Dyer or Mike Dooley even before Oprah jumped on board, it's all the same thing.  To quote some of those aforementioned:  "Thoughts become things," "What you focus on grows,"  "See yourself at the finish line,"  "Manifest, manifest, manifest," Oh, I know it, I teach it, I believe in it.  Yes, I knew it long before "The Secret" came out, long before everyone had a "vision board" in their house.  I knew I could make "things happen," even as a child. These are not new concepts.  I even have the description from one of the races I have always wanted to do hanging in my room.  Then, why would I ever put that "out there."  Why would I ever think I would not accomplish something before I even began?  Even as I write this, I am still not completely sure...but fear comes to mind...fear of failure, fear of disappointment, mistrust in the process.  It's too much analysis for this little blog (and completely unnecessary here or otherwise), but I'll tell you over the mic in the Spin room to SEE yourself at the finish line, to FEEL what you will feel when you get there, and I know with 100% certainty that you will get there. One of my favorite sayings is, "We teach what we need to learn," and this was clearly a case of this.

I did not see it, though, until I started to melt down during training.  I wear many hats while juggling the many balls in my life.  I am a divorced mom, I work, I am in school and many other things.  I am no different than all the others who are in similar circumstances and I am grateful every day that things are as good as they are for me. But, there are moments I become overwhelmed and I began to have them. I began to question if I really had the time to add in training on top of everything else.  I remember saying more than once, "I canNOT do it all...it's too much for me."  I was viewing it as HARD.  Oops #2.  But I still did not see it.  I didn't get it until things started happening.  I was on a pretty good roll (in between all of the self doubts) getting in some good runs, feeling strong and doing mileage I'd never done before.  I'd slowed down considerably, adjusted the way I run, and it was working.  I was not training as much as I'd like, but I was getting in what I could around all my other obligations.  I was having fun.  Then, I realized, it was 2 weeks out from the half-marathon I had planned to run and 3 weeks out from the duathlon I was also planning to do, and I had neither put the races on my calendar nor signed up for them.  Did I still not believe I could actually do it?  I signed up for both that night.

It was Easter vacation and my kids were home from school.  My training plans needed to be readjusted.  I could no longer jump out the door to get in a run.  I was either teaching or being mom.  That was really it, but I was also feeling some pain in my left achilles, both after running and Spinning.  We decided that a few days off wouldn't hurt and took the break as a good thing.  I did a 10 mile run on a treadmill (cold hard rain in NY and I took the lesser of two evils) over 3 weeks before the race and it, I did not know it then, would be my last long(er) run.  I had not run more than 8 miles outside at all.  Right when they were supposed to be back in school, we started a round of stomach viruses in our house that would last the next 2 weeks.  I was not spared.  I was sick for at least 3 days and exhausted from being up all night with sick children.  I subbed out 8 classes during this time.  We were not all healthy until 2 days before the race.  

During this time, I finally got it.  All I kept hearing was my own voice, "Something ALWAYS happens to prevent me from doing what I want to do."  I knew this needed to shift.  So I started telling myself that I wasn't going to let anything stop me from reaching this goal.  I needed to do this, for so many reasons, and I would.  

U2 has a song on the new album called, "Moment of Surrender" (which is a great climb, by the way).  While I don't recall the moment, I knew I had to surrender.  I had to stop viewing everything as so hard, because, in the scope of things, it really wasn't.  I had to surrender any hopes of putting up the time I wanted.  My only goal became to get to the start line, because I knew I'd finish once I got there...

On Becoming a Runner (pt. 1)

I can clearly and completely remember the first time I went running for exercise.  I was in college, in the early 90’s.  I had always been athletic, even pretty fast as a kid, but had, in my gloomy adolescence, shunned all athletic activities.  The famous “freshman fifteen” were threatening my body and I was determined to fight them off.  My then boyfriend was an athlete who introduced me to the weight room and I signed up for aerobics classes.  I watched my diet and not only fought off the fifteen, but went home at semester break almost fifteen pounds lighter than when I started.  I soon tired of the classes and was looking for something new.  This was before fitness centers and open gyms were on small campuses, and I wouldn’t have even known where to find a treadmill.  Just off school grounds, there was a reservoir with a concrete loop around it that was popular for walking and running.  The same boyfriend took me out there, new sneakers and all, and gave me some tips.  I thought I was in pretty good shape after bouncing around the gym but, upon my first lap, I was completely disheartened.  Running hurt, it sucked, my ego was badly bruised and I stopped.  I fought with the boyfriend, who lacked the patience for my meltdown, and vowed to never do it again.  

But I did...by myself.  Slowing it down, learning to breathe.  It wasn’t far, it wasn’t fast, but I could do it.  I started to sneak glances at Runner’s World magazine, while never feeling like I really joined the club.  In my mind, my 3 miles here and there at my 9 minute-mile pace surely did not qualify me as a “runner.”  But, over the next few years, I got a little faster, I ran a few 5Ks (I loved racing), a few 5-milers and a few 10Ks.  I married the college boyfriend, who took up marathons and triathlons and soon my small races really seemed like nothing, and the sideline years began.

I was the supportive wife, driving around, dropping water bottles around town for him to grab on his long runs.  I would cross a few boroughs during the NYC marathon (as support) and I would entertain our kids during the long breaks during his first half-Ironman.  I was always at the starting line, the transition areas and the finish line, usually flanked by the kids, usually cheering and usually wishing I was doing the race.  

Moving forward a few more years, through a divorce and all that comes with it, I became a certified Spinning instructor and love doing it.  I started running again, logging just enough miles to complete 2 Turkey Trot 5-milers, and then I started to feel it.  I was teaching a lot of classes and would have horrible heel pain after even running a mile and just figured it was too much for my body.

Because I was enjoying teaching classes, I really didn’t feel too bad about not running.  I would often tell myself (and others), “I’m just not a natural runner,” or “My body is just not built for distance running,” or  “I’m much more comfortable on the bike.”  But deep down, I really missed the challenge.  Running was a challenge for me.  It didn’t come easy, but that’s what made it so great.  I re-visited some "bucket-list" notes I had made years ago and saw the marathons and triathlons listed there.  Even though I am great at encouraging others to move beyond plateaus and comfort zones, I couldn't imagine how I could add anything else in to my busy life...