Me, Tiff and Natalie...my crazy running girls.
That look on our faces is "it's 21 degrees and we are shivering
and not trained enough. Let's GO already!"

The first race of my 4 half-marathons in a month was Saturday. In spite of the 4:30am wake-up call, the hour and half drive (with stops) to get to the race, and the 21 degree temperature at the start. I couldn't feel my fingers or toes for about the first 2 miles.

What I could feel was my belly. For the second time in a dozen races, I had to pull a pit stop at mile 3. I am oddly proud of this fact because I no longer have some of the inner pipes that most people do and digestion can be a challenge on a regular day. Most runners deal with "emergencies," waiting anxiously in line at port-a-potties along the route, dancing from foot to foot battling an urgent inner turmoil that could end with some serious embarrassment, and an equally urgent desire to be back pounding down the course chasing all the people who passed them while they were waiting. Anyhow, it goes without saying that joining that line was a "bummer." I never really recovered after that and the run was a slog. A beautiful slog.

I really thought this was going to be the perfect carb-loading,
belly-friendly, pre-race meal. It was delicious and easy to make.
The results were not so great. I do not blame the turkey tetrazzini.

Running is funny. You spend so much time in your head, having a conversation with yourself about everything - life and death, inspiration, going faster, not quitting, not stopping. That ache in your right hamstring, that hill you're going to have get over, a lovely old barn that makes you want to stop and take a picture because it reminds you of Girl Scout camp. Why can't people decide which side of the road to run on? How come people are tent camping when it's this cold? How come that woman is snorting and grunting like a pig? How anyone could run in shorts in these temperatures? Realizing your half-assed-I'm-busy-excuses training program was, as always, insufficient so you start making deals with yourself about how you'll do it better this time, starting tomorrow. The to-do list for the day, the month, for your life is flying through your brain like an old-fashioned stock ticker-tape and then it's completely erased by the sight of three horses galloping through a field, breath misting from their nostrils, a glassy lake, barren trees and snow-covered mountains serving as a postcard-perfect background and you think you know what life is all about.

For the first six miles you think you're going to PR (get a personal record), for the last 7 you're wondering why the fuck you even got out of bed this morning for this insanity and if that one, lone cheerleader on the road might give you a lift to the finish line.

And that's life, isn't it? Maybe that's why we do it. Because you get out of bed, when it would be easier to pull the covers around your head and hit snooze, to get on the roller coaster. That up and down, wild journey where pain meet beauty. Where your weakness meets your strength. Where your perfect inspired dream-life meets the have-to's of every day life. Where you get to talk to you for a couple of uninterrupted hours and figure out some things about life, and yourself. Where you know that, no matter what, you have friends who are with you for different parts of the ride, getting your butt out of bed, shouting encouragement along the way, walking by your side when you need them, and cheering for you when you cross the finish line...always thinking you are an amazing, powerful woman.

For a little race of 600 people, this run was so
professionally run. Water, bathrooms, transportation, medals,
breakfast at the end. Very impressed by Striders Winter Racing Circuit!

And at the end of 13.1 miles (don't discount that last tenth...it's a bitch), you get a medal. It doesn't matter if you ran your best race or your worst. All that matters is that finished. And hopefully you had fun doing it. I know I did.

run, run, run

I have not been running as much as I want to, or should be. I've let myself get swallowed up by work and life and excuses and the miles have drifted away while the pounds pile on. I promised myself that it's time to get back on track so I knocked out an 8-miler on Saturday and felt pretty good about it. Which is a good thing.

I've set myself a new, impossible, crazy goal. I'm going to run four half-marathons in a month. I didn't start out planning this, believe me. The Salt Lake Half Marathon, which I've done three times, was in trouble. Lots of management and financial issues and people weren't sure it was going to happen. That one is April 21st. I have some friends who are doing it for the first time so I finally signed up. But just in case it didn't happen...

I signed up for one on April 7th, in Heber, which is near one of my Ragnar runs. It's called Striders and it's small. But then I started thinking, hmmm...Utah, mountains, April...snow. I do not want to do 13 miles in the snow. And it's only 45 bucks so....

I signed up for the Thanksgiving Point Half Marathon on April 28th. I heard it was a good one and the odds of snow are slim. Plus, one of my Ragnar friends decided to do it with me so I'm now committed. Or triple-committed. But at this point I'm still thinking I'm probably only going to do one of the three. And then...

My friend Carrie gets a Groupon for half-price off another half-marathon on Cinco de Mayo. It's in Provo which is normally a serious deterrent to me (they have like one Starbucks in Provo, no tequila and tend to frown on tank tops and swearing) but she really, really wants me to sign up. What can I say? It's HALF-PRICE! Like 30 bucks. And I've already signed up for three halves that I'm mildly trained for. So, I'm in.

And then I think, HEY! If I run all four (A) I'll be better trained than I've ever been for most of the half-marathons I've run, (B) I'll be burning some serious calories for swimsuit season, (C) it's good training for Ragnar, and (D) I'll be able to say I ran four half marathons in a month! That's not too shabby.

Let the running begin. I'm going 4 for 4!

dirty girls

Dirty Girls.

 Have you ever hear of the Dirty Dash, a 6 mile mountainous trek that promises the following:

Have you ever said to yourself, “Marathons are too easy, and Triathlons are for sissies?”
We haven’t either…those races are really hard. Think about it…the first person to run a marathon actually died.  HE DIED!...and he probably didn’t even have fun along the way!

Well, welcome to a new kind of race: THE DIRTY DASH.  This race that puts all other races to shame.  The Dirty Dash is a mud run obstacle course where a military boot camp meets your inner five-year-old’s fantasy and subsequently converts boy to man and then man to swine. 

You’ll need endurance to trudge up mountains of sludge, courage to overcome uncompromising obstacles, a complete lack of shame to wallow in pits of mud and a smile to show through at the end!

Dirt? Mud? Sludge? Sign us up! Cuz that what's we do.

Obstacle #1...balance beam, over a mud pit. Seriously.

Greased up with dish soap before the big slide. Sweet!!!

Army wall!

Natalie after rocking the big slide!

Apparently hands like to make mud prints on butts.
There's no other explanation.

Shut up. We walked some.

No. These are not Jell-O shots. Everyone was
hoping but they were just the straight stuff.

Before we got "dirty." Literally NO idea what we were getting into.

Pig Tattoos? Perfect. Almost better than a medal.

We were the first wave of the day so we had a little less mud and guts. The reason we know this is that Natalie ran the Dirty Dash again the next weekend with her company team from Adobe, which includes my brother Marc. Dressed as Angry Birds. (video, anyone? You really should watch this!) And they were dirty dirty. Like REALLY dirty. We kind of had to try to get dirty. Which we did.

Mile One. With all the hills, it felt like more. So clean.

Climbing the walls, all military like.

The tire run! I felt like a pro football player!

Climbing hay bales! Some guys were literally jumping them.

Here piggy, piggy!

The rope climb was awesome!

Heading into the swamp. Seriously a half-mile slog through
thigh-high water filled with critters, ivy kind of stuff, and
really stinky mud. Like the kind you don't want your lady bits touching.

The last jump into the mud pit! Photo by 8 year old strangers.

Much needed. Best 4 bucks we ever spent!

The showers weren't quite as warm and relaxing as we'd
imagined. That's a power washer for heaven sake.
But not freezing was well worth it!

well-traveled shoes

My running shoes have a lot of miles on them. Airline miles, that is. I pack those suckers in my suitcase on every trip, even the trips where I know I've only got a couple of jam-packed days. And most of the time, that's right where they stay. Safely ensconced in my bag while I hit the snooze button a couple of times or mosey past the gym on my wait to meet people for dinner, trying not to make contact with the empty treadmills.

I don't know what my problem is. The few times I've actually made it out the door of the hotel to run on a trip, I really really love it. But most of the time my mild paranoia of getting lost and ending up in a "bad part of town" becomes a great excuse to skip the healthy exercise and head for happy hour. I guess the good news is that I haven't given up all hope of exercising while I'm on the road. If I can't find more running buddies than drinking buddies, I guess I have to make the mental shift on my own. It would be nice if the frequent flier miles me and my shoes are racking up were on the pavement.