Race Report: Tom King Half Marathon

I think I will look back on this race as the race that turned the tide for me. This was the race that proved to me, maybe I'm not destined to be slow, out of shape, and fat forever.

There is hope and a maybe a light at the end of the tunnel!

Now, let's not get crazy, I didn't bust out a PR or anything (yeah, I'm not quite to THAT shape just yet). But, I ran a 1:55:28. And... ummm... breaking 2 hours for me right now is HUGE. I mean, HUGE.

Steve came out to run the first 10.5 miles of the race with me and I had assumed I'd run something in the range of 9:15-9:30 pace (If I was lucky). But, we started around 8:30s and towards the end, I slipped off a little (9:11s were my last two miles). In my wildest dreams, I had no idea that I'd get anywhere near 8:49 pace for 13 miles. THANK YOU, STEVE!

And yeah, the pace felt like "racing" pace. But, it didn't feel like AWFUL racing pace.

This has been a HUGE confidence booster for me. I am now properly motivated to continue on the path and get fit and back to racing shape... no matter how long that takes me. It should also be noted that I ran this 1:55 while being about 15-20 pounds heavier than my PR of 1:44. So... yeah, there is that. BUT, (and yes, you've heard it here a lot, folks...) I have mapped out some serious diet changes and have started down that path of goodness, as well.

THINGS ARE HAPPENING, PEOPLE. And all it took was 1:55 Half Marathon.

The Rest of Week 3

The rest of week 3 was filled with easy runs... blah blah blah. Who cares?

My 15 mile long run was on Saturday. And, Saturday just happened to be my 34th birthday. HOLY SHIT. In honor of my birthday The Striders had a training run Saturday morning: the Bongo 2 Bongo 14 miler (Bongo Java is the name of a local coffee shop. We run from one Bongo Java and past another Bongo Java before arriving back at the original Bongo Java. GOT THAT?).

Coach dubbed the run: Bongo 2 Bongo Birthday Bitch Brunch Blowout Run (B2BBBBBR for short, hahahahahahaha). And everytime I saw her on the course she would yell... Birthday Bitch!

I ran 15 miles with Melissa and Liz and felt... pretty decent. I did test a Hammer Gel at mile 8ish and besides the fact that it took me about 2 minutes to actually get the thing down (uh... next time I need to remember to start taking it BEFORE the water stop), I felt no burst/help whatsoever. No gagging, though! So, there's a silver lining.

On the list to try:

Roctane Gu

Caffeinated Gu

5 hour energy/s

Any other suggestions?

After the run, The KoB said... "when you're ready, I've got something for you in the car." At first I was like... wait a minute, I know this trick... but, when we got to his car, he opened the back door and there was a 12 pack of Milwaukee's Best PREMIUM. He even had cups, so I could walk around with the beer. Perfect! And I am now proposing that we end every long run with a recovery beer.

After the beer a few of us walked down the street to a local brunch place, where there were CAP'N CRUNCH CRUSTED FRENCH TOAST AND a Bloody Mary Bar.

Food was delicious, service was excellent. 

I will be back.

There is really nothing I'd rather do on my birthday than get in a long run and go to brunch afterwards with my favorite people.

 Books and Booze for gifts.

My friends know me well.

Add to all that perfection that the day was absolutely beautiful: sunny and in the low 60s. The KoB and I spent the rest of the day nerding it up in Franklin visiting Carnton Plantation.

Ridic.

Although, if I'm being honest, I enjoyed

the tour at The Carter House much better.

Sunday, I had brunch with another friend who shares the same birthday and then I spent the evening with my family to celebrate my birthday. At the end of the weekend I couldn't help but think about how lucky I am to have such awesome friends and family. Thanks, bitches and sonsabitches!!

Gut Update

The Ann Arbor Marathon may have been a shit show endurance-wise. But, in the grand scheme of my running life... it was a total and complete game changer. Discovering that GLUTEN could be what was sabotaging my races/long runs is probably the most important/beneficial thing that I have ever done for my running. Since that race, I've been continuing to experiment with eating gluten free (mostly) the night before long runs and the morning of, and (knock on wood) I've had nothing but success!

And you know what... it's really fucking easy to eat gluten free. For one... lots of delicious vegetarian things are gluten free... Veggies, Rice, Quinoa, Potatoes, FRENCH FRIES, etc. And two... apparently "gluten free" is a pretty big movement right now... so.. like.. everything that is gluten free has a label announcing it.

Friday I realized that I had nothing to eat before my long run the next morning and instead of fighting the traffic/people/general hell that is Whole Foods on a Friday afternoon, I decided to to just pop into my local grocery store to pick up something for breakfast.

I stood in the breakfast aisle and checked out a few gluten free things. And because I'm cheap... I chose the one thing that was on sale:

In case you didn't know nuts and sugar are gluten free, 

there's a handy dandy label there.

I like nuts! I like sugar! Around 200 calories a bar! Sure!

The next morning I opened one up and nearly broke a tooth. When they said "crunch" they meant CRUNCH. I mean, these bars are essentially nuts enrobed in sugar and I actually have to bite into them with my side teeth, because I'm literally afraid it's going to break one of my veneers off. Not good.

I mean, they taste fine and all... but, yeah... I won't be getting these again. However, it did give me an idea of making them myself and not cooking the sugar so much that it turns the nuts into concrete. Maybe throw some peanut butter in there too. I'll let you know if I come up with something good. (Although, honestly... lazy Amy will probably win out and I'll just buy some gluten free pop tarts or whatev).

The love affair with gluten free (before runs/races) continues!

Race Report: Tucson Half Marathon

This is the story of how I voluntarily got my picture taken at the end of a race with a goofy ass grin plastered on my face.

1 minute earlier I was puking at the finish line.

30 seconds earlier I was frantically scrolling through my watch...

***SPOILER ALERT***

 I FUCKING PRed!!!!!!!

I KNOW.

YES, I realize that not 6 months ago I was boohooing all over the interwebz about how I'll never just randomly PR a race, etc. Obviously, I was just full of shit and excuses. Because, apparently, I can just pull a PR out of my ass*.

Ok, let's back up. 

So, the KoB and I were in Tucson last weekend and of course there was a Marathon and Half Marathon the same weekend. Whenever the KoB travels... there's always a marathon. TRUST. He ran the full (fuckingshowoff) and I ran the half.

My plan was to run the race as a tempo run. The idea of running 13.1 miles anywhere in the vicinity of 8:00 miles was ludicrous. LUDICROUS. Particularly with no taper and no speedwork near the 8:00 mile mark. I know it sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but I had no thoughts of a PR. I wasn't even entertaining the idea of running a sub 1:50.

The race is a point-to-point. Which meant that we had to get up at the ass crack o' dawn (3:15am!!!!!!) to get bussed to the start line and then sit there and wait for 2 hours. Awesome. It was also like 35 degrees. I dropped The KoB off at his bus stop and then I continued to mine. For the next two hours I huddled under a heater with a bunch of other runners and tried to avoid any lengthy conversations (chatty runner pre-race talk makes me nervous. Also, I'm a bitch.). It was dark and cold and I had decided that I wasn't even going to worry about the tempo miles till the last half of the race. I just wasn't feeling it. Cold Amy=Cranky Unmotivated Amy.

By the time the race started, my legs were FROZEN. 

Nice of them to take my picture next to the cow crossing sign.

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY MARATHONFOTO?????

Which meant, I ran a little faster than I had figured I would.

But, not that fast.

It was around this time, though, that I noticed that I wasn't breathing hard AT ALL. Hmm... that's weird, I thought.

Kinda interesting.

I felt amazingly good and the pace I was running felt CRAZY easy. So, I thought... well, maybe I can pick it up a little. And when I got to mile 7, I decided that for the rest of the race, my goal was to run a 7:XX split. 

Make way for the RUN BITCH, you sonsabitches.

And then, after 7 glorious miles of easyness... it started to get a little harder. Around mile 8 I felt my breath start to get labored. But, I didn't let myself freak out. It was supposed to be a tempo pace run, so I'm supposed to be a little out of breath.

I have no fucking idea where this shit came from.

Around mile 10, I did the math in my head and I realized that I MIGHT have a chance to PR and I was like.... HOLYFUCKINGSHITBALLS!

 Come on ride the train, and ride it... 

Come on ride the train, and ride it...

It's a choo choo train.

(WTF else could I be doing)?

All I could think about was splits and math and OH MY GOD, I HAVE TO KEEP RUNNING FAST. I MIGHT PR!

 And then, we hit like the one fucking hill on the whole course. And to be honest, it wasn't even really a hill. But, good lord, it felt like Mt. Everest. 

Doesn't even show up on the elevation profile. Bitch.

Slowed me down a bit, though. Bitch.

At this point, I was in full Racing Amy Form. The heavy breathing and panting. The grunting like I'm going to die. The throat clearing. The whole bit. 

Fact: my pointy elbows are my skinniest body part.

Somehow though, I managed to run my fastest mile of the day.

And school one last bitch.

When I crossed the finish line, I immediately threw up. No dry heaves this time. REAL throw up. Gross. Luckily, it was just a couple of heaves and I was done and I immediately started messing with my watch. It just said 1:44 on it. I had to go in and figure out the seconds. (As you can see above it said 1:44:08).

AND I REALIZED THAT I HAD PRed! (Turns out, I actually had a chip time of 1:44:04). A PR of 36 seconds. BOOM BITCHES!

Unfuckingbelievable. There is no way I thought I would be able to run that fast and to run that much of a negative split! It was just the perfect day (and of course I immediately started thinking... well, what if I had ran faster for the first 4 miles???!?!?!?!?). 

And when The KoB finished, I could BARELY CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT. YAY! SOMEONE TO TALK TO ABOUT MY PR! BUT, he stood around in the finishers chute with some friends and I patiently waited outside the chute until I couldn't take it any more and crashed the party. I tried not to look like a total freak and be totally chill about my PR, etc. I was waiting to get the KoB alone to make a huge dramatic announcement about how my "tempo run" turned into a PR. But, they were all chatting and I as much as I wanted to just yank him away, I stood there politely and got introduced and asked them how they did. Small talk, small talk, dying, dying... But, then one of them asked me... how'd you do? 

I FUCKING PRed!!!!!!!!!!!

And the KoB gave me a look like... What the hell, bitch? Why did you wait 5 minutes to say anything? (Actually, I think he said exactly that).

Not to worry, KoB, you'll hear about it PLENTY. 

And that's the story of how I pulled a PR out of my ass and let a photographer take my pic with a goofy ass grin.

The end.

Epilogue: Uhhh... Tucson Full Marathon... there's a good chance you'll see me next year.

*To be fair, I HAVE been training hard for the past 13 weeks. So, it's not like the PR was totally pulled out of my ass... Still... was a total shock to me.

Race Report: Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon

Disclaimer: I could lie to you all and say that this post is a spectator's race report. But, it's not. It's actually a post to brag about The KoB. I KNOW. It's gross. I've totally turned into THAT GIRL (at least this once). But, I can't help it, I'm proud of him and I had a total blast on Sunday, so... you've been warned. Gratuitous pics and heavy gushing to follow. 

There was a brief moment back in July in a pizzeria in Bozeman, MT that I looked across the table at The KoB and said... "Hey... what if I make the Monkey my goal race?" I continued to add bonuses: I knew the course, I could probably rope Steve into pacing me for a good chunk of it, and it would be fun to run a goal race with so many other friends running. So, for like a week, I thought I'd use the Monkey as my goal race this year, then I wised the fuck up and opted out.

I wasn't going to race it, but it was a goal race for The KoB. And I spent most of last week fretting about where I was going to be during the race and where I could spectate and still make it back in time for the finish. He runs too fast to make spectating on the course easy.

I got to the race (BEFORE HE DID. LIKE 20 MINUTES BEFORE HE DID. THAT'S HOW NERVOUS I WAS) and met up with him when he got there. It was a chilly morning, bright and perfect. We talked to friends and the whole time I was looking at him like.... is he nervous? am I more nervous than him? is he actually going to trust me to have Gu for him at mile 18? OMG THE RESPONSIBILITY!

Finally the goddamn race started and I watched him fade into the distance with the other runners. After chit-chatting a bit with Coach and Cheryl, it was time to get my butt to my spectating point and get in a little easy run. I went to the park entrance and started to run up the backside of 9 mile hill. I knew I'd see The KoB and I could catch up with Liz and Melanie and run a few miles with them.

Apparently I still run with my eyes closed.

I started to catch up with the lead runners and was pretty pleased when I saw The KoB quietly lurking behind a big group of runners who had no business being in front of him. You could almost hear that Jaws soundtrack accompanying him as he ran... "da dum da dum da dum..."

You guys!!! We were meant for each other...
he runs with his eyes closed, too!

I screamed and yelled my head off for him when I saw him and I'm pretty sure he and everyone else was like... calm the fuck down, bitch. It's only mile 7. I kept going, cheering for the runners as they ran up 9 mile hill and stopped and waited for Melanie and Liz (I'm not a dumbass. I wasn't going to run all the way down 9 mile hill, just to turn around it and run back up it).

STILL WITH MY GODDAMN EYES CLOSED.

I caught up with them and ran with them for a few miles. But, honestly, the only thing I could think of was... "how much time do I have before The KoB comes through mile 18ish?" I was looking at my watch constantly.

I just fucking give up.

When I parted ways with Melanie and Liz I ran by someone who yelled 26.2! at me. And at first I was like.. yeah, that's how long you're running today. Have fun with that. But then I realized she was referring to my blog. So... Hi! Sorry, I'm a dumbass and can't remember the name of my own blog.

I got to the rendezvous point (the stone gates) and went to my car to grab a jacket, the Gu and my cheat sheet that had possible splits for The KoB at mile 18 and the finish, so I'd know how much time I had and how well he was doing.

I write with my eyes closed, as well.

Yes, I still have the cheat sheet. The thing about The KoB though, is that I knew not to worry if he was a few minutes off schedule. Unlike me... who prefers to go all out at the beginning and crash and burn, The KoB is a negative splitter. 

 Gratuitous.

I waited for about 25 minutes or so, my eyes peeled on the hill that the runners would be coming down. I saw the first guy fly through, then the second, then the third and the fourth. And then, I caught a glimpse of a white singlet and I got up and grabbed the Gu and yelled for him. I was so concerned with the Gu handoff that I didn't really pay too much attention to how he looked, but I had a good feeling. I immediately headed over to my car to drive to the finish line. 

Random shout-out to the Fleet Feet Nashville Store who had the water station at the Stone Gates. Y'all were cracking me up with the music and the microphone. The red convertible comment... killed me. Also thought the comment about The KoB was pretty funny, too. (Sorry readers, you just had to be there).

I got to the finish line and immediately hooked up with friends: Coach, Cheryl, Melissa, and Andrea. We stood around and discussed the runners and how they looked when we saw them at various points on the course.  Our eyes were glued to the distant hill where we would first glimpse the runners. We saw the first place guy finish with a course record 2:34:17. Which is a ridiculous time on that course, yo. Then we saw the 2nd and 3rd place guys battle it out. And that's when my stomach was really in knots. We stood around, looking at the course, I had a pretty good feeling that The KoB had taken the 4th place guy, but there was no way to know. 

Finally, Coach said... Hey, is that someone? And I said... DOES HE HAVE A WHITE SINGLET ON? And when we saw that he did, I immediately started yelling (all the while realizing that he was still too far away to hear my yells) and running towards the finish line. He got closer and I started looking at the clock and then looking back at him.

 

You might not can tell, but his eyes are closed. 

I knew he was going to come in under 3 hours. And I started yelling louder and harder and I think I dropped a couple of RUN MOTHER FUCKERS at him (which... come to find out later, his mom was actually at the finish line. CLASSY INTRODUCTION, AMY).

BOOM BITCHES! 2:57:33 A Monkey PR!

Uh. You can stop running now.

He pretty much ran through the finish chute and immediately dropped to his hands and knees. One of my favorite things about The KoB is his intensity. When he runs a race, he leaves it all out there on the course... which usually makes for a dramatic finish. (Last year he puked all over the place, that's why no one in that picture above is getting close to him). How many people do you see run a marathon (or any race) and end up on the ground immediately afterwards? I ran over to him and even though I was so fucking excited that my first reaction was to jump on top of him and give his sweaty, salty ass a big hug and kiss, I pretty much just had to stand over him and hover around like a mother hen. I didn't have to ask how he felt. I knew he felt like shit. He'd just PRed the fuck out of one of the hardest marathons around. He was in pain, not dying, but in pain. And I just kinda stood there and let him get his bearings and catch his breath. People kept coming over to me, asking me if he was okay. I was like... uhh... yeah... he's The KoB, of course he's okay. 

 Uh, wait... you ARE okay, right?

After about 5 minutes of him writhing around on the ground (still on his hands and knees) I got him some Gatorade and he started drinking. After about 10 minutes he finally rolled over and sat down on the grass. SUCCESS (even though all he could grumble about was that he didn't come in 3rd and win a crochet monkey). We stood around waiting for other friends and his brother to finish. It was a good day. So many of our friends did awesome on Sunday! I was bursting with pride and excitement for everyone! But mainly... I was just thirsty...

Kegs got tapped at noon and suddenly the day got EVEN BETTER.

And a little fuzzy.

I stood around and talked to people I knew, met people I didn't know and had about 8 beers. It was FANFUCKINGTASTIC. The KoB got his Monkey PR, some of our friends got marathon PRs (WHOA), and I got fucking wasted. A good day, indeed. Congrats to everyone that finished!

Race Report: Team Nashville 10 Miler

AKA the race where I used every possible crutch I could (well, except for a pacer):

1. I wore my GPS, with current pace, last mile pace, mileage, and overall time on the screen.
2. I wore sunglasses (I never wear sunglasses to run).
3. I ran with my ipod.
4. I ran wearing gloves. (Not really a crutch, but I have to say it was nice to have something to wipe my face with as I ran).

As much as I want to be a hardcore runner who doesn't need music or my GPS watch... they both came in REALLY handy on Saturday morning. So, yeah, softcore Amy all the way.

My goal was to not just PR (My 10 mile PR was 1:31:51 set back in 2008). But, I wanted to break 1:25.

I woke up and did a few things differently than I normally do before a race. First, I took a B-complex vitamin and an Iron pill. Then I putzed around a bit and ate a bowl of cereal around 2 hours before the race. On the way to the race, I stopped and bought a diet coke (for the caffeine) and then once at the race before my warm up and about 30 minutes before the race, I ate a Luna bar.

NONE of that stuff is stuff I EVER do before a race. Did I know that all this new stuff had the potential to royally fuck up my race morning? Yeah, I did. But, it was a risk I was willing to take.

Lately, I've felt like when I start a race, my legs feel like shit. Heavy, slow, etc. But, Saturday, they felt light and fresh. I knew from the warm-up that it was going to be a good day to try for my 1:25.

Less than a mile into the race. School started early on Saturday.

I knew I needed to run 8:30s, and after sending freak-out emails to both Coach and The KoB on Friday about OMG, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO AT A RACE (yes, this happens before EVERY race), I kinda had the strategy of, start off conservatively (8:45ish) and whittle my way down. Did that happen? Um. Not exactly.

Mile 1:  8:27
I knew going into the race to keep an eye on the race mile markers and the total time, instead of just relying on my Garmin. And when I got to the first mile marker, my Garmin already said 1.1. WTF? This made for a crazy day of lots of my math-doing in my head.

Or, ya know, I'll become an accountant and work with numbers 

ALL FUCKING DAY LONG.

That first mile felt good. Not labored or hard (like the half marathon a month ago felt). The second mile had a bit of a hill in it, but I powered up it no problem.

Mile 2: 8:22.
I was looking at my watch oh... about every 7 seconds and instead of it annoying the crap out of me, it was actually a welcome distraction. It was almost soothing to know that I was keeping my pace in check.

Mile 3: 8:17
Mile 4: 8:20
Mile 5: 8:26

It was at this point that I started thinking about the hill after mile 5. It's a pretty big hill and I was hoping that it would only slow me down to around 8:35-8:45.

Mile 6: 9:17
Doh! I was so pissed about this time. Sure it was a tough hill, but it wasn't THAT tough. I soldiered on and started thinking about the hill in the last mile. I knew that I was going to need to bank some time while I could for that hill. I also started doing the math in my head, trying to figure out what I had to run for the last few miles to make my goal. Basically, I told myself that I couldn't run slower than 8:15s.

Mile 7: 8:00

Mile 8: 7:55

Mile 9: 8:09

And then the hill. UGH. It was a bitch. It's a long grind (which I usually don't mind) and then a steep section near the top (my least favorite types of hills). It was terrible. My legs and chest both felt like they were going to explode. Once it was over (by the way, thanks to the dude that passed me on the hill and tried to give me words of encouragement. Sorry I gave you the death stare and grunt), I started to really pick it up, as I knew that every second was going to count (particularly after the hill). I passed by Elly, the photographer and she said to me.... "That bad, huh?"

 Yeah, it felt pretty fucking terrible.

 At least with sunglasses you can't tell that my eyes are closed.

I had about a quarter of a mile to go and I just ran as fast as I possibly could. I started dry heaving and thought that I was going to throw up all over myself (luckily there was nothing left in my stomach). I dry heaved about 5 times before crossing the finish line and dry heaving again. EVERYONE in the finish line area was quiet, they thought that I was going to start spewing like a volcano at any moment. Luckily, I didn't.

But I did come in with a PR and I met my goal... 1:24:37! BOOM BITCHES! Schooled!

Mile 10: 8:38 (stupid fucking hill).

This race was a huge boost for me. Aside from the hills and the last minute sprint, I felt REALLY good during this entire race. Which is very rare for me. I think my experimentation was right on the money and I'm going to continue to tweak a few things with that routine. This day was a HUGE difference from the Half marathon I ran a month ago. That's progress, bitches!

Dig

Some random shit that I'm into these days...

Earnest Bars

The apple ginger flavor is my favorite by far. They taste like an apple oatmeal cookie. DELICIOUS. And healthy-ish.

Swiftwick Socks

I haven't bought new socks in YEARS. It's actually the next thing in my running wardrobe that I'm going to upgrade. But, it's funny, I've had to sacrifice one sock from two different pairs in the past couple of months. And I was sad. Socks make for expensive toilet paper, y'all. BUT, it's like the universe is putting BETTER socks into my life to make up for those sacrificed pairs. I've recently gotten two pairs of Swiftwick socks from races (schooling bitches has it's perks) and I LOVE THEM. I'm going to buy a few more pairs. Plus... bonus...the socks are made here in Middle Tennessee.

B Complex Vitamins

So, the truth is, I'm new to the vitamin/supplement world. I used to be one of those people who thought they were a waste of money that you literally just flushed down the toilet. But, over the past few months, I've started to realize that while my diet is pretty dang healthy, when you eliminate certain food groups in their entirety, you might be missing some things. After talking to the woman at my local health food store, she convinced me that I'm not getting enough B vitamins and probably zero B-12. So, she set me up with a regiment of B Complex pills and B-12.

And something wonderful has happened... I've started taking one B complex pill in the afternoon along with my other usual suspects:

And then at night I take an additional Holy Basil pill before bed and I've started adding a B-complex pill and you know what? It's so much easier for me to get up in the morning. It's like I can't fall back asleep even if I wanted to. BRILLIANT.

I should note here that you should ask your doctor before you start taking random vitamins/supplements/minerals. I have my yearly doctors appointment on Monday, so I'll see officially where all my numbers are at.

Tristan Prettyman

It's your basic "you dumped me, and I hope you regret it some day, but you probably won't, because it's just an urban legend, that people sit around a year later and are like... hmmm.. ya know.. that girlfriend last year... I shouldn't have broken up with her." Anyway... it's good shit. Not like Taylor Swift break-up shit. But good break-up shit.

Speaking of Music...
 

Stubborn Love by the Lumineers

Scroll to :50 in the video to start the song.

I am obsessed with this song. I cannot stop listening to it, singing it, thinking about it. 

You bitches into anything worth sharing lately?

The Other Side.

There's the running, of course. The weekly training plans, the emails back and forth with Coach over what the fuck a "progression run" is. There's the early-to-bed-Friday-nights and the group long runs.

But there's also this:

The beginnings of a huge booze stockpile.

I've only finished week 2. I'll be curious to see what the hell week 16 looks like in my fridge. (Hint: possibly some 40s and a huge ass bottle of cheap tequila).

20 weeks to go, bitches!

A Milestone. Literally.

As of yesterday I have ran 10,000 miles.

While I've been aware that this milestone was going to happen soon, it went completely unnoticed until today. Fortunately, as soon as I started running years ago, I started logging my runs. Looking back at my running log through the years is like reading a journal. It's amazing to be able to know that my first run ever was on January 18, 2006 and that I ran/walked three-quarters of a mile in eleven minutes. It's funny to go back and read some of those early comments on my runs. And to realize that some things never change... no matter how many miles I run, most of my running commentary is bitching about something or another.

I don't often get serious on here or talk about my past, but it's hard not to think about what my life would be like today if it weren't for those 10,000 miles. I've said before that running saved my life. Maybe it didn't save my life literally (although it has certainly made me about a zillion times healthier), but it's saved me from a life of chronic malaise and despair. And what kind of life would that have been?

The difference between a non-suicide and an ex-suicide leaving the house for work at 8 o'clock on an ordinary morning:

 The non-suicide is a little traveling suck of care, sucking care with him from the past and being sucked toward care in the future. His breath is high in his chest.

The ex-suicide opens his front door, sits down on the steps, and laughs. Since he has the option of being dead, he has nothing to lose by being alive. It is good to be alive. He goes to work because he doesn't have to.

-- Walker Percy

In some ways, 10,000 miles seems like nothing. Running has become such a part of me and my identity and my life that putting a number on it doesn't really seem to mean anything. But collectively, those 10,000 miles represent everything. It may sound like I put too much value in running. Maybe it sounds like my priorities are whack. But through running my life has completely changed. I've met people that already have and will no doubt continue to enrich my life. I've gained confidence and self-respect. I've learned that though I like to bitch and moan and pussyfoot around, I'm actually pretty fucking tough when I have to be. I've learned how to deal with success and failure. And the most important thing I've learned is that no matter what's in front of you... all you have to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other. The scenery will change... sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. But the hardest thing you have to do, is really the simplest: keep going.

Sometimes I hate running. Sometimes it feels awful. Sometimes it breaks my heart. But goddammit, it's always there when I need it.

Happy 10,000 miles to me! I think there's a bottle of champagne in my future...