Another Mother Runner: Core Values + Plans for 2016
A little post-orange glow going on for us at our AMR planning meeting. The good news is that sea-level Sarah survived her first Orange Theory class in the Mile High City. (L to R: Denise, Sarah, Jonna, Dimity.)
This past Sunday afternoon, the core of our AMR team convened in Denver to sweat, laugh, drink margs, regroup, chat, and plan 2016. (Not necessarily in that order, and yes, I will write a review of Orange Theory sooner than later.)
We’ll share more details about 2016 with you as they solidify, but one thing we spent some time with is on our mission statement and AMR values. Our mission statement is still in its editing phase; holy cow, those things are hard to write concisely. (That said, we know it begins with Another Mother Runner believes every female finds strength, confidence, and clarity through forward movement.)
We had an easier time naming ten core values that already rule the AMR community—and we will continue to spread in our everyday interactions with you. (The hard part here was whittling it down from 40ish to ten.)
Believe deeply in every mother runner.
Push each other across the finish line.
Momentum comes from teamwork.
Be generous.
Don’t take yourself too seriously.
Value rest.
Celebrate milestones—and regular old miles.
Run your own race.
Keep your eyes up the road.
Play nice.
Would you add or change any values?
And while we’re still in the planning stages, any suggestions you want to make for what you’d like to see AMR do in 2016?
Finally, anybody want to finish our mission statement? (Kidding. Kind of.)
One #FindYourStrong Marathon, Two Voices: Coming Together Without Falling Apart
I should have saved more of this pick me up peach tea from Heather…..
As they prepare for the Wineglass Marathon on October 4 using the AMR #FindYourStrong Marathon Challenge, Heather and Marianne, two long-distance BRFs taking on their first marathon, are sharing their experiences–and miles–weekly. Find all their posts here.
Marianne
I would like to go on record as giving mad props and credit to any academic who trains for a big spring race. (I’m looking at you my department chair and friend, Amy!) The taper is coming at an excellent time as the semester is picking up steam at a rapid rate. For example:
- I spent so much time in meetings last week that I lost the ability to tell when people were joking with me over email and nearly embarrassed myself in a reply to a senior administrator.
- I told students that we wouldn’t get to a task until next week and they kindly informed me that I had assigned said task as homework.
- As I introduced my projects to potential new graduate students, I realized that I have six different lines of research going on because I keep thinking just one more experiment will close something off.
- At home, I found myself scraping together meals and cutting corners on nutrition including being tempted by the corn above. I know that shelf stable pre-cooked shrink wrapped corn is never a “so natural” or a good choice. I also know eating poorly when feeling stressed only makes it worse and yet there was a night I ate salami, cheese, crackers, and Oreo cookies for dinner and another where I topped off a half box of cheez-its with a slice of cold tempeh.
As for training, my long run had a wide range (10-14 miles) and I gladly stayed at the shorter side. The rumored to be last tempo run has been completed and it was a success despite humidity and my general grumpiness around this class of run. I took the optional rest day midweek instead of cross training. But it is still feeling like a lot.
Appropriately enough, a few weeks ago, I received two gifts on the same day. The mug is from a student who was heading off for her PhD in Counseling Psych and worked on a memory and meditation project with me. The book is from a colleague to thank me for commenting on her tenure file. I know how to take a hint and see this as a message that if I want to finish my training feeling good, have a strong semester, and enjoy my family, I’m going to need some help. This led me to set up some more global rules for myself in the coming year that I’ve borrowed from the lessons of the training plan and these two gifts.
1. Do not do back-to-back hard workouts. No going out of town more than one weekend a month = Stay Put
2. Cross training needs to be limited to focus on running = Out-of-town guests limited to one weekend a month = Breathe
3. Rest days matter if you want to avoid injury = I will not take on any new activities no matter how fun being a Girls on the Run Coach or helping out at my new parish or finally taking that class at the adult school that I’ve been eying or agreeing to help with that conference to get more women in science might be = STOP
4. Be in the run you’re in= Figure out what to do each day and let the big picture fade out = Stop. Breathe. Stay put.
Flowers from my garden are perking up my desk this week.
Heather
Like Marianne, I’ve been experiencing a bit of overwhelm this week. I’ve reworked this post a couple times, struggling to find the balance between honesty and whining. I’m revisiting that old balancing act between career and home, home and running. This past week had me feeling, at various points, panicked, guilty, and defensive. With a new job, the balls have all been tossed up in the air and I’m running around like a crazy person trying not to drop any.
In fact, Saturday reminded me of the early days of having a newborn when John took Henry out for an errand and Juniper went down for her nap, I wrestled with how to use that time. Should I nap? Do laundry? Work? Write? Curl up with a novel? (Uncharacteristically, I napped.)
So the taper has not been the running deprivation that I’d dreaded. It’s actually been a welcome reprieve while I navigate these new waters. It’s hard to tell whether it’s the training or life in general, but I’ve been exhausted this week. Multiple times I’ve apologized for not being more interesting when I’ve met new people, promising that I’ll be better company in the future. Carrie Cheadle’s words from her recent AMR podcast (#176) have been echoing in my ears as she warned that periods of heightened stress require the athlete to get more rest and listen more closely to their body, as one is at a higher risk for injury.
This ridiculous charcuterie board prepared by my hubby is perking up my belly this week.
Speaking of Carrie’s podcast, it was fantastic. I felt like I wanted to take notes on every other sentence that came out of her mouth, and there are way too many nuggets to address here. But one of the points that really hit home was the need for sub-goals. Her point was that to hit my “big goal” (coming in under four hours) I should construct a set of sub-goals to help me get there. Maybe it’s a pacing strategy, or a fueling strategy, or a plan for combating negative thoughts, or all three.
And also like Marianne, I’ve been thinking about how this applies to other areas of my life. How often is our to-do list made up of items like “figure out Henry’s birthday,” which really has about 72 items behind it and thus never gets crossed off? One of my favorite bloggers addressed this very issue here.
So my goals for this second week of taper are simple:
- Choose three sub-goals for the marathon
- Try to apply that same strategy to my work (after all, the more detailed my list gets, the more there is to cross off…and crossing things off is the best part)
- Sleep more
I can’t wait to cross off number 3.
Tell us, readers, how do you deal when you feel like you are teetering on the edge of overflowing?
Saucony #26Strong Cadet Finds Her Strong on Hood to Coast–and beyond
Wearing, but not feeling, blue: Laura puts on her game face as she and Sarah (in hat) pose post-run.
Hi, gals, Sarah here with an update written by my “cadet” in the Saucony #26Strong program, which culminates on October 11 at Chicago Marathon. At long last, after a summer of recouping and rehabbing my busted-up ankle, Laura and I ran for the first time together earlier this month. To a casual observer, it would have looked merely like to mother runners on an on-the-go gab-fest running a not-very-scenic rambling route around the inner eastside of Portland (albeit both decked head-to-toe in Saucony awesomeness!). But the run was special because we each got to showcase our strength–Laura with the endurance she’s honed all summer, and me on my first run with no walking segments. A few more hills than I would have liked, but laughter and conversation kept us going strong.
If you want to read more from Laura, you can find posts here and here, and here’s a fun podcast introducing her.
It’s 1:00 am and I’m running alone on a dark country road. I have to climb 950 feet in five miles, half of it on gravel. My headlamp is the only light I have, save for an occasional flash of lightning in the distance, and it starts to pour. But instead of the dread of getting wet or the fear of running alone at night, I am thrilled to my core to be on this winding hill, and I push hard to meet my teammates waiting for me ahead. It’s my second leg on Oregon’s 200-mile Hood to Coast relay race, where teams of 12 runners race from Mount Hood to the Oregon coast. I’m a native Oregonian, and I’m running this epic relay for the first time at age 46.
Laura (back row, middle) and her Hood to Coast teammates.
This incredible experience – I ran three different legs and shared a van with six inspirational women for more than 30 hours – was possible only because I started training for my first marathon in June. Don’t get me wrong: Anyone can join a Hood to Coast team, regardless of their running experience or weekly miles, but personally, it was my summer of marathon training that gave me the confidence to say yes when I was asked to join the team only three weeks prior to the race.
Everything from the AMR training plan itself, with its detailed running schedule, to the weekly AMR podcasts, to Sarah’s gentle guidance regarding fueling, has given me multiple opportunities to learn about myself as a runner, which in turn has made me more self-assured about taking on new running and racing adventures.
I know, for example, how differently I run on flat courses versus hills, and accurately predicted my pace on my three Hood to Coast legs which were a hot-and-flat 6 miles, cold-and-hilly 5.75 miles, and gentle rollers for 4.25 miles. I’ve learned when to use GU Energy Gels, what flavors I like best (Caramel Macchiato), and when to use the caffeinated flavors (after 10 miles). Thanks to Saucony’s generous ‘sponsorship,’ I know which Saucony shoes are best for long runs where my feet are likely to fatigue (Guide 8s
) and those I prefer for quick speedwork at the track (Kinvara 6).
Ignore the swoosh on her yellow hat: Laura was feeling Saucony 26Strong after completing damp, blustery Hood to Coast.
Taken individually, these are minor details in the life of a runner and may even seem trivial to non-runners, but collectively these little insights give me the peace of mind that I’ve done everything I can to prepare for a long run or race, and like Hood to Coast, I feel really prepared to run in Chicago in October.
Unfortunately, not everything about my marathon training has gone smoothly. After my first 18-miler in early August, the ball of my right foot was so painful, my podiatrist diagnosed metatarsalgia and insisted I start running with an orthotic and never walk barefoot again. Did I mention this was in August? Sigh. The pain has subsided only a little and I’ve had to sit out two short runs, but I’m used to the orthotic now and I’m just going to run on it until the marathon is over then give it a nice long rest.
Another bummer was not being about to run with Sarah until early September. Her multi-fractured ankle prevented her from running over the summer, and I missed the occasional run with my 26Strong coach. Sarah is so easy to talk with, and having girls who are both teens would have given us enough conversation fodder for hours, but we both missed out on this fun. Fortunately, because Sarah worked so hard at recovering from her injury, we finally had the chance to run together last week and it was super. It was Sarah’s first run without walking breaks, and she led the whole way. I can only imagine the little wisdoms she would have thrown my way had we run more together, and of course, the money we would have found on the streets. Believe me, Sarah was looking! [Editor/coach’s note: Guilty as charged.]
Pointing out who brought us together on this journey: Thank you, Saucony!
Looking forward, I am so excited to run my first marathon in Chicago, and feel completely prepared to tackle the distance. I don’t believe it will be easy and I fully expect to feel the fade at mile 20 or so, but it no longer feels impossible. I’ve pushed my body to the limit several times since June, and it has surprised me by responding and recovering well. I feel strong. Sarah plans to jump in at mile 20 and run with me for the last 10K with me, which will help me stay #26Strong; I know I will desperately need her encouragement. I also love the idea of running in the state where my parents grew up, dated, and dreamed about the life they would eventually create and live together. It feels strangely full circle to travel to Illinois for the longest race of my life, even though I haven’t yet logged a single mile there.
Maybe this is just further proof that the magic of training for a marathon – the lessons learned from rising early five days a week and running no matter what the conditions – is as much about gaining new insight into ourselves as thinking and feeling individuals as much as it is about pushing the limits of our physical selves.
I hope your summer training – whether it’s for your own first marathon or a 5K– has rewarded you as richly as mine, and that running gives you the confidence to take on new race and life adventures you never thought possible.
Sweaty and goofy: Coach and cadet showing off Saucony kicks post-run.
#178: Olympian Rod Dixon Talks about Getting Kids Running
Rod Dixon (gentleman in baseball cap, top left) and run-loving kids celebrating at Final Mile Event.
Sarah and Dimity welcome two guests to talk about getting kids active and healthy. First up is Olympian Rod Dixon, a father (and grandfather!) runner who founded Kid’s Marathon Foundation, an in-school running and nutrition program that gets kids moving. In his delightful Kiwi accent, Rod shares stories about his start in running and how his experience lead him to help “keep kids calibrated” by bringing running into their school day. This 1983 New York City Marathon champion shares numerous race-day tips, including the importance of slowing down in the first half of a competition.
Next the gals are joined by Cathleen Kosak, a mom of three and a physical therapist. Cathleen shares the story of how, after reading about Rod’s program, she brought his program in her kids’ elementary school in suburban Connecticut—and has since helped launch it city-wide. Hear Cathleen talk about how her community’s moms and kids “grabbed hold of” the program and, well, ran with it.
Another Mother Runner hopes this podcast inspires you to help kids get and stay active. Two ways you can help:
-Join the Saucony Run For Good Challenge, challenging yourself to log 26.2 miles in September on Runkeeper. (If you don’t already have the Runkeeper app, download it on your smartphone to log your miles, and sign up for the Challenge on your computer.) Once you complete the 26.2-mile Challenge, for every mile you run (and log on Runkeeper), Saucony will donate $1 to causes like aimed at keeping children healthy and active, like Rod Dixon’s Kid’s Marathon Foundation.
-If you are involved with a non-profit orangization in your community that is encouraging kids to get active, you can apply for a grant from Saucony Run For Good Foundation by going to the Saucony website. Once there, you can download an application and learn more about how to get kids into a healthy and fit lifestyle.
Martini Fridays: About that 5K
I’m certain you all have been on the edges of your respective seats waiting to hear about how my recent 5K went. And, if so, I’m equally certain that you’re pretty dang tired of people asking why you’re not using the whole chair.
Let me pay off the suspense: despite the fact that I’ve been telling everyone who asked (and believing it) that I’d PR’d but by way less than I’d hoped, I realized as I was pulling pictures for this column that I actually hadn’t PR’d at all. Compare the time on the picture above (36:41) to the picture below from 2013 that ran with my last post (34:59).
This is both amusing and crushing by equal measures. Which is a lot like life itself sometimes. Especially in late August. When you live in a house with no air conditioning. And are weary of coming home from a long day of work only to find your house trashed and two children who aren’t back in school yet lounging around the place like all of the filth doesn’t even bother them. Because, of course, it doesn’t.
I might be working through some stuff this week. Sorry.
Some of the Oneonta BAMRs. If you know the photo-bomber in the blue tank, let me know. I’ve been trying to ID her so that I can compliment her on her timing.
The plan going in to the 5K was to run the 3 miles at a 10:25 pace for a total time in the 32-33 minute window. That plan, however, met some resistance when the race gun went off at 3 on a blisteringly hot August afternoon. We all know how VoldeSun and I get along.
I made the most rookie mistake of rookie mistakes, which is I lined up at the front — given how small the race was, you couldn’t really not line up in the front — then went out way too fast. When I looked at Herr Garmin at the quarter mile mark, I was running a 9:25 mile and, while it’s great to know I can do that, it’s not a pace I can sustain for more than a half mile or so.
It turns out that that mistake was actually a light bulb moment when it comes to me and future races — but I’ll get to that in a minute.
So I slowed down; then slowed down some more. Then realized how freaking little shade there was. And did that thing where I really started to reconsider all of the life choices that lead me to think that this race was a good idea. At that point the running Gods saw fit to send me an angel in the disguise of a small child who was squirting passing runners with a hose. Any other day, it would have been rude to have a hose aimed at you without your consent (that’s what she said); on that day, it was perfection.
Coach Christine, when we were talking about this race before it actually occurred, asked if it was hilly. Even though the race itself was too small to have a topo map online, I felt secure in my guess that it would be. There are no flat races around here. Even our high school track shows up as a hill on my Garmin charts.
Yes, the race was hilly. As I would start to find a rhythm, I’d have to run up hills that never did seem to have a down. I swear to you that this out and back course was all uphill.
My main goal, once I realized that 10:25 was not going to happen in the heat of day, was to keep my pace near 11. Then when that felt way too hard, near 11:30. Then when even that felt impossible, near 12. Then I just wanted to finish the damn thing.
I crossed the finish at 36:42, which until I started writing this, I thought was a PR. But when I looked at my last post, I realized it totally isn’t.
Feh, I say.
While waiting for the BAMRs running the 10K, I had my picture taken with the local Dairy Princess. As one does.
I was pretty sore the next morning, mostly my in calves. Mostly, though, I felt just kind of wrung out and thirsty. So thirsty. I think I might have been a little dehydrated.
As for the light bulb moment – in debriefing with Coach, I finally realized the biggest thing that holds me back in races: the first time I step outside of my running comfort zone and push my pace, my brain goes from “this is OK” to “I’m going to die” in microseconds. Rather than simply run a little more slowly until I can regroup, I automatically walk. It’s not even a conscious decision. Once that happens, my brain starts to calculate how much further it is, coupled with how far I’ve come, added to “what makes you think you can do this anyway?” and I lose all faith. Regaining my gung-ho-ness is hard once I’ve started the whole doubt cycle.
Admitting you have a problem is your first step toward recovery, right? Hi. I’m Adrienne. I’m an easily panicked runner!
I came up with a partial solution while running seven miles a couple of mornings ago. The middle five (!) were at race pace. Ever quarter-mile or so, I’d remind myself to only run the mile I am currently in, rather than think about how many I’d run or how many were coming up. That laser-like focus helped immensely. I hit all of my paces for that run, which was, in a word, awesome.
I’d like to have another strategy or two in the pocket of my Saucony Bullet Capris, however. How do you keep “I can’t do that” at bay during races?
One #FindYourStrong Marathon, Two Voices: Head Games
Oops.
As they prepare for the Wineglass Marathon on October 4 using the AMR #FindYourStrong Marathon Challenge, Heather and Marianne, two long-distance BRFs taking on their first marathon, are sharing their experiences–and miles–weekly. Find all their posts here.
Heather
A couple months ago, a job posting made its way to me: Director of Marketing & Public Relations for the Akron Symphony. It sounded incredible, and like a reasonable next step in my career. My degree is in music. After graduation, I spent five years doing product marketing for Nike where I managed the $400 million product line that was global boys sport footwear. Wanting to move to nonprofit, I most recently spent five years managing the education program and marketing for an Akron-area nonprofit.
So, to recap: degree in music, marketing for Nike, marketing for an Akron nonprofit.
However, I initially dismissed this job posting. Why?
I didn’t think I was qualified.
And if I’m being honest, I’m not sure that I ever would have thought of myself as qualified. Candidly, I frequently feel as though I got to where I am by sheer luck and it’s only a matter of time before my lack of skills is discovered.
It turns out I’m not alone. In Lean In, the landmark book by Sheryl Sandberg, she talks about how much more likely women are to underestimate their abilities and express caution when seeking out new roles. A man is inclined to reach for that new opportunity, while a woman responds by saying “’I’m just not sure I’d be good at that.’ Or ‘That sounds exciting, but I’ve never done anything like it before.’”
The Director posting kept popping up in my inbox, though – via a friend, an e-blast, a job aggregate – and, with Sandberg’s words rattling around in my brain, I decided to apply. I sent my resume on a Friday, 30 minutes before the deadline, and on Monday morning I had an email from the Executive Director waiting in my inbox. A whirlwind week and a half later, I accepted the position.
It turns out that feeling like a fraud has an actual name: Imposter Syndrome. While it affects both men and women, the latter are far more likely to feel it. And in a ridiculous twist, it seems to be more common the more successful a woman is.
Being a good role model for this feisty little lady helps keep me on track.
The older I get, the more I realize that we’re all faking it. A neighbor recently commented that John and I seem to have it so together as a family; I laughed out loud. I have no idea how to be a parent any more than I know how to be the director of something. Even things I think I’ve mastered – being a wife or a daughter – shift dramatically as children are born and parents age, and once again I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.
Thankfully, there’s comfort in realizing that we’re all making it up as we go along. And friends, I really mean that; none of us knows what we’re doing. Save for the random egomaniac coworker (and nobody likes them anyway) we’re all faking it, at least to some degree. What we see on someone’s Facebook update is never the whole story, just as the 20-mile run on my Strava feed doesn’t show me fighting the urge to walk with every footfall between miles 14 and 20.
I’m really excited about this position. It’s an amazing opportunity to be right in the thick of the arts scene of a city that is rebranding itself before our very eyes. I get to listen to that community and help figure out how our organization can best serve it. Incredible, right?
So I’ll keep faking it until I make it. Just like I did at Nike, I’ll keep making decisions that I secretly feel unqualified to make, and a couple years from now I’ll realize that I’ve surpassed the goals I set for this position. I’ll keep molding tiny creatures into people and in the blink of an eye I’ll see them holding babies of their own. And I’ll keep putting one foot in front of another and in a month, rumor has it I’ll be a marathoner.
Scenes from Week 14 of training: 1.Tenure means you can proudly wear pro-compression socks at work 2. Some folks from MRTT 3.A beautiful moon.
Marianne
I’ve been at my job for nine years so am yielding the new job talk to Heather in favor of a brief update because I was in a tough place when I wrote last week. I certainly suffered from imposter syndrome the first few years I was a professor but now I can barely remember life before that. (Sort of like how life before being a mom is harder to access in my memory.)
- Running – Other than my inaugural and super fun run w/ a local MRTT chapter, it stayed challenging. Especially the 20 miler. But that actually boosted my confidence because it showed me I could stay the course despite being tired, hot, and already feeling my hamstrings by mile 2. On October 4th these factors are likely to be less of an issue especially the tired part thanks to the taper that begins this week.
- Work – It turns out I didn’t forget how to teach over sabbatical. Phew! Also, I’d forgotten how much I like that part of my job.
- Faith/Grief/Trust – All your comments really helped. Thank you.