April 2016

On the day you read this, provided it is the same day it is posted, I’ll officially be halfway on the journey to my 90th birthday. (If you read this on any other day, I’ll leave it up to you to do the math.)

No, this isn’t a shameless ploy to get more people to wish me a happy birthday — although I’ll happily accept any wishes that come my way — it’s that this day is an opportunity to get all philosophical and stuff. Besides, it gives me a theme. Who doesn’t love a theme?

It would be more accurate to say “This is what a runner looks like after a long, long day at work.”

Will I make it to 90? Eh. Who knows? Genetically the odds are in my favor. I could, however, get hit by a bus this afternoon. That’s the thing about life. One just never knows — and it’s taken me nearly 45 years to really accept that. Actually, I’ve moved past mere acceptance. It’s taken me 45 years to embrace the idea of going ahead and doing something you’ve been merely dreaming about, just because there could be a bus just around the corner.

The bus, of course, is a metaphor, unless it’s an actual bus, in which case, maybe you shouldn’t have had “crossing the street without looking” on your list of lifelong dreams.

While a birthday that ends in 0 or 5 is always a great time to take stock, what really triggered this bout of navel gazing was last weekend’s long run. The weather here had warmed up enough that the cemetery on my route opened its gates for the season. I know opinions differ but I’m a fan of running among the dead. Granted, I do my best to not be a dick about it. If there are mourners actively mourning, I’ll steer clear. Otherwise, I find it peaceful to read the names on the stones I run past, to look at the memorabilia left behind, and to remember that this, in some form, is waiting for us all.

Which I’m finally old enough to just begin to make peace with.

One of my running companions.

That long run was also the first time in many months that I’d gotten to run by Lolo Reed, whose name sticks with you. I can’t help but think she would have been a BAMR and I smile each time I pass her.

Other than my few moments of mobile meditation among the stones, my ten mile long run was pretty typical for springtime in these parts: I spent the first five miles being pelted by sleet, three in the middle staring into blinding sunshine, and the last two in freezing rain. Fortunately for me, my long run was the day before the epic (and not far from me) Syracuse Half Marathon, which you just have to see to believe.

Go look. I can wait.

*waits*

RIGHT? If you were there, I hope your (bad) ass-icle has thawed by now. You are a freaking Viking. Or slightly mentally ill. Or, like many of us, a charming combination of both.

I also found a penny buried in the slush on my long run. Ah, spring.

If you’d told me 4.5 years ago (which is when I took my first shaky and wheezy steps in a Couch-to-5K program and was 100 percent certain that I’d never make it through a full mile), that I’d have more than a few half marathon medals on my wall, I’d know you’d spent too much time outside in the sun without a hat. But I’m older now — and know that the bus you never saw coming is exactly the one that will take you where you need to go, even if you didn’t know that you needed to go there.

I try to keep all of this in mind when I start to think about the New York City Marathon in November, which I’m running under the umbrella of Every Mother Counts.* I’ve spent more time than is seemly quietly freaking out about all of it: the training, the race, the fundraising, the very idea that at mile 20, I’ll still have more than an hour of running left. A recent issue of Runner’s World eased me off of the ledge, thanks to this bit of advice from one Mark Remy:

I’m old enough now to not hide from the fear but, rather, to run through it.

* You know what would be a great gift for my halfway-to-90 birthday? Getting halfway-to-my-fundraising-goal for Every Mother Counts. And, no, I ain’t to proud to beg, just like the man sang.

Question of the week: what is the one running-related gift (tangible or otherwise) that you wish someone would give you?

Useful, insightful, wonderful things can come from social media. We vent, we explain, we cheer each other on. We also swap beauty secrets—time-saving secrets, to be exact—because we all know as #motherrunners that squeezing in an extra mile might come at the expense of our post-run beauty routine. (And we wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Long story, short: You guys love your dry shampoo. A simple TMI Tuesday Facebook post on the topic elicited mass clicks, likes, follows, and comments. We felt it was our duty to share the highlights and shed some light on a time-saver we love, too.

A handful of brands received shout-outs on Facebook, including, from left to right, above: Suave Refresh and Revive, which was mentioned multiple times, $3; Batiste, for its affordability-and-quality combo $6; Klorane with Oat Milk for all hair types or Nettle for oily hair, $10-$20; Aquage, which was recommended by a stylist, $24.

If you’re short on time post-run; you just don’t want to deal with washing, drying, and styling after a workout; or your hair doesn’t do well with a daily wash, dry shampoo might be the answer you’ve been looking for. Here, a few tips to get the best results, as confirmed by our Facebook friends:

2. It’s all about the roots.
A sprinkle or a spray won’t do much on its own. You need to really get in there to the roots, where the product will absorb oil.
“I apply the dry shampoo, ‘massage’ it in with my fingers and brush through.” —Kristal Allen

3. If you have darker hair, look for a tinted version.
Powders and sprays can leave whitish streaks behind if you over-apply or don’t work it down to your roots. Save yourself the trouble and look for a shade matching your own.
“… it left white in my dark brown hair. Batiste brown tint has been my go to.” —Becky Bland

4. Consider it a “touch-up.”
While dry shampoo won’t completely replace a good wash, especially after a 12-miler in August, it’s perfect for lighter workouts, opening up the option of midday-runs-at-the-office wide open.
“I teach 2-3 fitness classes a day with training clients in between. I have absolutely no time to redo the do each time.” —Michelle Frost

What’s your time-saving tip? Share away!