When running feels like swimming

So much for best intentions. "I'll do 5K today," I thought. "No problem," I said, "A leisurely half-hour run" I told myself.

Cut to 15 minutes later after I'd done 2.5K and swore the air was so thick, I could chew it.

Should've stuck to the track today. A tan's probably not worth the resulting lung collapse from this insane humidity. Ugh.

Couch Potato on Foot

A week ago, I winged a 5k, as much as one can wing a 5K when one had run one the week prior. After two weekends of racing, despite the fact that I like going to races, and completely crap weather, I was feeling a little burned out. Today, I ran for the first time since the 5K on June 29. There was an air quality advisory, but I'd been making excuses for two weeks and it was time to lace up and sack up.

I could tell in the past week that the lack of running was catching up with me. My emotions were backing up; things that I'd normally run out or even run away from suddenly became too big. So today, I didn't want to think about anything. I was all thought out.

Every step was a challenge in the heat today and it was a challenge to keep my mind focused on the small things. Is Brett Favre coming back? Would the Red Sox still be in the bottom of the first by the time I got home? Is Sabathia's start tomorrow going to be like last Sunday when I kept telling myself that if I made it through the 5K, I'd get to go home and lay on the couch and watch Ben Sheets, only to have Benny kind of suck? Is that a Spanish guitar on "One in a Million"?

About 2/3 of the way through my run, it occurred to me that I am actually phenomenally lazy. I was running to make up for a week of being lazy. I was running so that tomorrow night I can eat pizza and drink beer and doodle love notes to CC Sabathia. If I wasn't lazy, I'd be having fun and it wouldn't have been such a battle to get out there and every step wouldn't be such a freaking chore. I'm really just a couch potato in motion.

My body actually felt fine and with a lower temperature and humidity that might not choke a horse, I could probably have gone farther. But now that the 10K training is starting in earnest, there will be plenty of chances to go farther. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some sitting on my ass to do.

Back on the horse.

Because I'm not a professional runner, there are going to be times when life gets in the way and there are things I'm going to have to do - and want to do - besides run. Spending the holiday weekend at my family's lake house in Maine was one of those things. I made a good faith effort, I did, and ran three miles on Friday morning. And I had every intention of running again on Saturday. But, you know, there were hot dogs to eat. And beer to drink. And a lake to float around in. I've been working really hard lately at various things so all of these activities seemed more inviting to me than running.

But, like all things that one commits to, eventually you have to return to running. That was today. Unfortunately, today was also 90 degrees out when I got home. But, never one to take the easy way out, I figured that a "hot, sweaty make-up run" (per the genius New Balance commercials), was exactly what I needed. I figured five miles would about do it. It'd be long enough to be difficult but short enough that I'd be able to walk tomorrow. And also that I wouldn't keel over and die due to the heat. I figured I'd get a good, solid run out of it.

Know what I didn't count on? The fact that I went tubing on Saturday for the first time in years and, in addition to my right side looking like it had an unfortunate run-in with a meat tenderizer, my pectoral muscles are really, really sore. Know what's attached to pectoral muscles? Boobs. Know what bounces when you run no matter how good your sports bra is? Yeah, boobs. So really, my five miles felt more like ten due to the aching in my pectorals and biceps. Which was super fun, I don't mind telling you.

But the thing is, I did it, despite the fact that I had several reasons not to. So I suppose that means that I'm really in this thing, sore boobs and all.

Part of running is sitting still.

Anger fuels me. I'm not sure why but I find I have the best runs when I'm angry about something or I need an outlet for my aggression. Katherine says that anger fuels her need to run but that she can't carry the anger with her into a run or she'll burn out too easily. So far, that hasn't been the case with me.

I come from such an organized, regimented background that sometimes I actually catalog the things I need to think about on my run. I make a mental list, "I have to figure out what I'm going to do about the GREs and then there's the issue of this weekend and also, how am I going to talk to so-and-so about this-and-that? That should take me about five miles." It's weird, I know. Amy looked at me like I had three heads when I told her that I do that. But I still do it.

Inevitably though, even someone as hyper-organized and detail-oriented as I am will find that my thoughts start to wander during the course of any given run. I'll realize when I'm done that I never did come up with an answer to that question and that one car with the dent in the fender made me think of another thing that I hadn't thought of for a while so I mentally set out in that direction for a few miles. And that's fine. I realize that you can't regiment thought like that. Nor would you want to.

But when I'm angry, I run fast. I run far. I run hard. For some reason, I'm capable of sustaining anger and aggression over the course of longer runs. Perhaps it's because I've never been the kind of person to make rash decisions. I think of things from all possible angles and consider all outcomes before making a choice and acting on it. Or not acting on it as the case may be. Those thoughts fuel my runs.

Today, for the first time in a while, I didn't run angry. True, it was hot and true, my legs are still feeling a bit like they're made out of cement after Sunday's 7.5 miler. But I stopped after two miles. I stopped and I just sat in the sun and listened to music and watched the river for a little while. I never do that. I never sit still. I'm beginning to realize that sometimes you need to. And I also realized I wasn't angry. Maybe I'd run all the anger out of me. Doesn't mean that it won't come back, I'm sure it will. But for the time being, I think I'll need to find something else to fuel me. I'm all angered out.

"You guys want some boob Gu?"

The question above was put to us by Allison, about 5 miles into this morning's 7.5 mile New Charles River Run. She was, you see, keeping the Vanilla Bean Gu packet in her sports bra. I mean, where else are you supposed to keep something like that? It was my first experience with Gu. Let me tell you, I'm not that excited about my second experience.

What I am excited about, however, is the way I ran the race. Katherine and Abby are marathoners and Allison has run with them before. And still, I kept pace. So I'm proud of that. That's no small feat, keeping pace with people who regularly run double digit mileage. At around the four and a half mile mark, Katherine said to me, "So I think you and I should pick a full marathon to train for. And we can do it together." I went through all the reasons why that's maybe not such a good idea, but Katherine's a hard sell. "Marathon training is brutal and hard," she said, "but anyone can do it." I knew running was a cult.

Unofficial results aren't up yet but I believe my pace was right around what I've been posting for 5Ks. I had no time in mind today since the goal for this race was just to finish it. 7.5 miles is the longest I've run yet. So that's an achievement in and of itself. And I feel good about the fact that I feel good. If that makes any sense. I kept up the flow of conversation the whole time and at no point did I feel like I was pushing myself too hard.

Around the 6 mile mark Katherine said, "You're speeding up."

"I am?" I said.

"Yup," she answered, "You're going faster."

"We're at 6 miles," I said, "I want to finish this bitch."

So we did.

My left hip was giving me a little attitude around 5 miles in but I decided to push through it. I'm glad I did. I had my iPod with me and we used Attractive in a Non-Threatening Way iPod man's updates to pace ourselves. We've also decided that his name should be Javier.

This inspired a mile-long conversation or so about who we'd want talking to us through our iPods and encouraging us on our runs. We all decided that Sean Connery and Isaac Hayes would be pretty stellar. Especially if Isaac Hayes busted into the Shaft theme song. How are you not gonna punch it up for that?

Amy had run the 5K version of the same race so in a reversal, she was waiting for me at the finish line.

"I'm just really glad you didn't boot," she said after hugging me, handing me some water and telling me she was proud of me. "I was standing here when some of the elite 7.5 mile runners came through and I nearly got splashed."

"Like the Matt Ryan Victory Boot?" I asked her.

"Exactly," she said.

"Well," I ventured, "I don't have to boot. So I think that counts as a win."

"Totally," she said.

We then decided that next weekend we'll take a break. This is two races for us in two weeks and some time off is good.

"Next weekend," she said, "It's a holiday. So no races."

"No," I said, "Next weekend all we're obligated to do as Americans is hang out at my parents lake house and drink beer."

"That sounds perfect." She said.

At the moment, I feel sort of perfect myself. 7.5 miles is more than halfway to a half marathon and that's what I'm training for at the moment. I'm on an excellent pace and finally feel like maybe, just maybe, I'll actually be able to do it. It's a good feeling.

You can take your attitude elsewhere.

On Wednesday I went to pick up our race packets for Sunday's New Charles River Run. Katherine and I are running the 7.5 mile race and Amy is doing the 5K. I offered to pick up the packets for all three of us since I had to go downtown for errands anyway and you know, birds, stones, etc.

I waited behind this girl who seemingly could not remember her friend's names when she tried to pick up their packets (she was totally just trying to make off with the free t-shirts and Snickers Marathon bars), and tried not to be annoyed at the pretty but not very intelligent boy who was helping out with packet distribution. (He managed to spell both "Katherine" and "Kristen" spectacularly wrong and I think I saw him struggling with "Amy.")

Eventually, after many confused phone calls on the part of the girl in front of me, it was my turn.

"Hi," I said to the woman working the station, "I need to pick up three packets actually. One's mine and two for my friends who are registered."

"5K or 7.5 mile?" she asked me.

"Two 7.5 and one 5K" I said.

She looked me up and down with that elite runner appraisal, "You're the 5k." It wasn't a question.

"Um, no," I said, preparing to get all snotty if need be, "I'm a 7.5."

The "bitch, please" was implied.

"Oh," she said, barely keeping from rolling her eyes and huffing in the direction of the 7.5 boxes.

Perhaps I'm projecting. Perhaps she wasn't really looking at me and thinking, "Right. You're gonna run 7.5 miles? Sure you are." But frankly, she seemed a little judgy.

Look, I know I don't look like a typical runner. Not yet anyway. But I'm getting there. I'm semi-tall and my catcher's thighs are transforming with every mile, making my height more apparent and making it seem as though I'm taller than I am. My famously wide ribcage is shrinking which thing I NEVER thought would happen (do ribs get smaller?) and instead of being a straight stovepipe, I've gotten curvier. I bought shorts a few weeks ago because I figured I couldn't face another summer of jeans and New England humidity. Me! Shorts! This is madness.

I guess my point is, we're all a little judgy sometimes, especially when it comes to sizing up other people. Judging people is one of my favorite pastimes. But I try really hard not to do it when it comes to running because I know what people must be thinking when they look at me. And I do like proving them wrong. Amy calls it "pulling a Merrill." Taking someone's negativity - real or imagined - and using it to fuel me. She's got a point, I do that frequently.

Regardless, I hope I see that Packet Girl again on Sunday. And I hope I smoke her.

6.2 of the most boring miles around.

Yesterday, in preparation for Sunday's 7.5 mile Charles River Run with Katherine, I ran 10K or 6.2 miles. (iPod man is very helpful with the keeping track). But because the forecast was for thunderstorms and the shirt I'd brought to run in was white and no one I'd meet along the river needs that much information about me straight off, I decided to run on the track at work.

Which is fine. Good even. Except that I spent an hour making left turns and trying to entertain myself with watching some MBAs play basketball (badly) and finding songs on my iPod that I wasn't completely sick of yet. (On a related note: I really need new music).

Turns out the basketball players weren't terribly interesting and the only music that I didn't crankily skip past came from movies from my childhood. You know, "Danger Zone" from Top Gun, "Eye of the Tiger" from Rocky and "Holding Out For a Hero" and "Footloose" from, er, Footloose. They all have good beats so they make good running songs. But sometimes, like yesterday, you just want some angry music. Some foot pounding music that makes you go faster and gives you more energy because you have some aggression to get out.

Maybe I didn't need it. I set my best time yet for a 10K so perhaps I had all the mental fuel I needed. But sometimes angry music is good. I must make a note to raid iTunes.