November 2016

12 Ways To Deal With a Runny Nose While Running

It’s that time of year: Cold temps make for runny noses, heres 12 ways to deal with a runny nose while running.

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If you, like Sarah, are in search of solutions that don’t make your skin raw, the Tribe has answers. Thanks, Facebook community!

Scroll through to find everything form the innovative (essential oils) to the unusual (pall bearers’ gloves).

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1. Handanas are fantastic!

—Melanie and a second vote from Catherine

2. Neti pot!! Before and/or after.

—Rebecca and Brit agrees

3. A blend of eucalyptus, peppermint, tea tree, and rosemary essential oils under the nose!

—Patty

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4. SQoosh band! Takes care of snot, sweat, and the hidden pocket is just right for hot hands in the winter.

—Heidi

5. Vaseline under/on my nose then wipe with sleeves the whole way. So gross but my nose is never sore.

—Dawn

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6. I carry Puffs Plus tissues (they hold up well) for blowing and apply L’Occitane shea butter on my nose holes before the run to protect the skin.

—Anne

7. I put on lots of Chapstick under my nose so does not get raw.

—Heidi

8. Use my lanolin for inside my dry nose during the summer too. My baby is 13 ;)

—Stephanni and a follow-up vote from Charity

9. I wear pall bearers’ gloves. Very soft. If you don’t have any, those Sunday go-to-meeting kind of gloves do well.

—Geri

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10. RunningGluv. They are exactly what you need!! Trust me!

—Stephanie, with Kim and Susie agreeing

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11. I use a Buff doubled around my wrist to blow my nose – in colder weather, I’ll wear it around my neck for the same purpose.

—Kris with another vote from Tina

12. I have a sports bra with double layers so I keep my clean tissues in one boob, and my used tissues in the other 😆. I gradually go from being lopsided on the right, to lopsided on the left!

—Susan

Any other suggestions out there? Leave us a comment, we’ll take ’em!

#236: Holiday Survival Strategies from a Holistic Nutritionist

ellie-500x300-2Holiday nutrition advice: Sarah and co-host Ellison Weist tuck into a conversation with Ellie Kempton, a Denver-based holistic nutritionist and the official nutritionist of the Train Like a Mother Club. A big believer in “simple advice and cues,” Ellie shares five strategies for surviving the holiday season, including a few that might surprise you. She laughs at how she taught herself to become a slow eater (it’s a method that we suspect might work for many mother runners!). Find out what Ellie refers to as “bubble wrap” as you head to a party, and get advice on how to fill an entree plate once you get there. She encourages gals to eat with gusto instead of fear, saying the holidays need to be about renewal not depletion. The conversation wraps up with the three gals take a deep dive into something called “oil pulling” (who knew?!).

Fresh off a visit to Connecticut, Sarah shares a family update—and talks up a chicken recipe she cooked for her clan. And, as promised, here’s the PDF Ellie discussed, Savoring the Holidays, overflowing with tips, advice, and several recipes.

*Looking to try POLAR products? Save 20% (a whopping $46!) on the M400 by using code AMR at POLAR website. Enjoy free shipping, too! (Code good through 12/31/16, and only applies to M400.)

*The three books Ellison (a.k.a. The Book Bully) recommends in this episode:

News of the World by Paulette Jiles; Ross Poldark by Winston Graham (Macmillan Collector’s Library); and The Warburgs by Ron Chernow.

*If you’re digging our podcasts, we’d be super-grateful if you’d take a minute (because we *know* you have so many to spare!) to write a review on iTunes. Many thanks.

**Also, the quickest way to get our podcasts is to subscribe to the show via iTunes. Clicking this link will automatically download the shows to your iTunes account. It doesn’t get any simpler than that. We’ve also joined the Acast podcast network, download their app to hear our podcast and many others like it!

Dry Martini: My last .2 thoughts about the TCS NYC marathon

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Mischief managed.

So here I am, ten days post-marathon. To be brutally honest, the fact that I ran 26.2 MF’n miles in NYC still hasn’t sunk in yet. I don’t know that it every really will.

Some of that can be chalked up to post-marathon malaise, which is totally a thing and anyone who tells you differently is trying to sell you something — and that something, likely, is running a marathon with them. I’m just exhausted, y’all, what with all of the energy expenditure on Sunday, the travel back home, and a tumultuous election week. What drive I had has evaporated into a diffuse cloud of meh. I have no doubt this, too, shall pass once time does.

What would help it pass, is suspect, is being able to go for a nice long run. My body has other ideas. I’ve managed a few 2-3 milers but my legs still feel like lead. Plus, all of the muscles in my lower back keep seizing up if I run for more than 45-minutes or so. This, too, falls into the “this, too, shall pass” category (especially since I’m about to visit my friendly neighborhood massage therapist) but I’m still irked by my human frailty. I mean — I just ran a marathon. I can’t run 3 miles?

Yeah. I know.

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I was on the Staten Island Ferry when reality kicked in.

Some of my melancholy stems from the experience being over, which is weird because it’s an experience I have zero desire to have again. For six hours on a Sunday in November, though, I had a singular focus and a whole lot of people on my side. Not only in-person along the race course itself but also on Facebook and Instagram and email. Friends all over the country tracked my little dot on the marathon’s app. I can only say thank you. I can also confess that I keep looking back on all of the comments when the day gets kinda blarg.

For those six hours, I felt like a rock star, albeit one with zero cash, fewer recreational drug options, and decidedly less vomit. That’s not something you get more than a few times during your life. When you have a baby, maybe. And the feeling you get at the end of the marathon is a lot like the one after labor: one that makes you realize that you are the biggest badass in the world and so relieved that you’ve succeeded. I burst into tears as the medal was being lifted over my head. Or more accurately, tears without actual liquid coming out of my eyes because running for that long can dehydrate a person.

While the bulk of my race report is in last week’s podcast, I have a few more thoughts, because of course I do.

— I have Very Strong Feelings about all of Brooklyn and the Queensboro bridge. By the time my part of the pack hit the BLKN, a lot of the crowd had gone home. While there were some bright spots, like the high school band that played the Rocky theme on a loop and a church choir that brought the goosebumps, it was quiet enough to really think about how long this race would be. Ditto the Queensboro bridge.

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I stopped in Brooklyn to cheer myself up by taking a selfie with a woman in a banana costume. Like one does.

— Related to the above: one of these days, I’ll figure out how to stage a race where back of the packers have the same experience as the front of the packers. There has to be a way, right? One that doesn’t leave all of the runners in a big tangled heap in the middle?

— While making plans before the race, I discouraged folks from coming to spectate. On race day, I was beyond thrilled that folks I know ignored me. It was so much of lift — like Bette Midler “Wind Beneath My Wings” level — to see people I knew. Especially when I got to see my teenager. Words fail.

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This photo shot by my friend Kate shows you exactly what it felt like to see someone I knew.

— The people who were handing out tissues and squeezes of hand sanitizer were geniuses. Next race I spectate, I know what I’ll be packing.

— Footing gets super slippery at water stops after a crap-ton of runners has gone through.

— My knee-jerk response to doing hard things is to want to stop and hug every dog I pass, even the ones who are sniffing for bombs. One day, this will likely get me arrested.

— I managed to run an entire marathon with only two minor injuries: I wound up with a blister on the bottom of my fourth toe and a bruise on the middle finger of my right hand. I’m still not sure how that last one happened. I must develop a death grip on my water bottle as the race wears on.

— If I can run a marathon, pretty much anyone can. Seriously.

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I’m the one in the blue poncho, fyi.

— Once you’ve run the biggest race in the world, there’s no point in doing any other race like it again. Or so I keep telling myself. I’m 99.99 percent sure I mean it, though. That .01 percent is because I’ve learned to never, ever say never.

So what did you learn from your last challenging race?

Don’t Hit the Wall. Be the Wall. Up and Over, Friends!

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“Hit the wall.” You might be familiar with the phrase. The feeling? I know I am. Very.

It happens for me on every run. I take my first few strides out the front door and think: “Good, you’re doing well. You’re out, your feet are moving, you’re even feeling a little peppy. Maybe you’ve still got it after all?!” Aaaand, then I hit mile 1 and the voices coming from the cheer squad in my head stop yelling for me to “Go, run, win!” and they start “Hisssing… Booooing.” Why? Because this is the moment when my lungs begin to seize, my breath become short, my head starts to feel a little cobwebby, and my legs feel a whole lot less peppy. This, my friends, is “The Wall.” When I’m not-so-trained up, I run right into this wall at mile 1. When I’m consistently running long and strong, this wall appears at mile 4… on every.single.run.

“Be the Wall.” Yes, I’m good at that. The Wall appears and it’s not just my breathing that’s affected. It’s my mental state that suffers. This is when I face a framed collage of self-doubt, negative self-talk, and insecurities. This is when I start to lecture myself like a coach would lecture a team losing at half-time: half tough love, half pep-talk, all fire under the belt. “Who are you kidding? You can’t call yourself a runner if you don’t run. And you can’t even run one mile anymore.” This is the all-too-familiar moment when I become the wall.

But why? I know that I feel this way on every run. I know that I just have to push through the fog in my way and I’ll break wide open into the sunshine – my breath will steady, I’ll find my happy pace, and my legs will carry me as far as I want. Mostly, I know that I’ll be glad I got out there.

In last month’s post, I mentioned my identity as a runner in transition. What I do know is that I am squarely in the huff-and-puff stage and in need of a BRF to do all the talking for while. Because I really need someone to drown out the ‘tough love’ voices in my head for a while, to maybe pep-talk me right up and over my wall, and to keep that fire lit under my feet. Following me? No? Ok, let’s trade places – I’ll run on the outside for a while.

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SBS knows the value of a BRF

Say I am your BRF. I meet you in the parking lot at the elementary school just as the sun begins its rise over the eastern hillside. I’ve already had my first cup of coffee and read an interesting article in the paper. You hop out of your car and I immediately notice the tired look in your eyes and suspect that you might just have rolled out of bed, tangled wisps of your hair are peeking out from underneath your beanie. I don’t say anything. I just offer you a smile, a hearty “Hello!” and a hug. We press “start” on our GPS watches and begin, both our voices a little hoarse and our first few strides a little stiff.

My legs stretch and my breath evens out, our conversation landing on the article I read this morning about the recent election – we’re in the meat of things now, though I notice that you are still breathing hard and you only offer sounds in response. I’m ready to pick up the pace a bit – I have to run 2 miles at tempo and 1 mile at race pace, but I slow myself down just a bit when I notice that your shoulder has fallen ever-so-slightly behind mine. We cover 5 miles this morning, coming back to our cars sweaty, both of us smiling now. We high-5, make promises to meet again two mornings from now, and head home to hot showers and the regular morning rush. Feels good, doesn’t it?

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Me, far right with my girls

Up and over! Friends don’t let friends hit the wall – alone. Friends shoulder friends away from becoming the wall. And when all that fails, friends push you up and over the wall. The thing is, the best part of having a best running friend is being a best running friend. And you are your own best running friend – you are the friend who ignores your disheveled hair when you hop on the treadmill tucked away in your basement; you are the friends who pushes you past the first stop at the corner of your street; you are the friend who keeps pace with your own heartbeat; you are the friend whose inner conversation carries you through every huff and puff, mile by mile. From one friend to another, I’m going to start by being a whole lot nicer to myself.

As for being ‘lost’… I’m carrying a glittery sign that reads: “Weekend Warriors!” Who’s with me?!

#235: 2016 New York City Marathon Recap Podcast

nyc-500x300-podcastNew York City Marathon Recap Podcast: Sarah is joined by two co-hosts (who are also the guests!), Adrienne Martini and Christine Hinton, to talk about Adrienne taking on her first 26.2. Learn about the plan Coach Christine designed for Adrienne, and why the training was “very fulfilling” for Adrienne. The coached runner tells why she chose the 50,000-person race to be her one-and-done marathon—and how she got a bib for it even after being shut out of the lottery. (Hint: Every Mother Counts.) When the talk turns to TMI, find out whether the notorious “river of pee” from the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge is an urban legend or not. Laugh along as Adrienne admits to her extreme confusion as to what mile she was at, and drink in knowledge via Adrienne’s hydration epiphany. Hear what caused the marathon runner to choke up near Mile 18—and what boosted her mood soon after. Along the way, listen to other NYC Marathoners courtesy of Voice Memos sprinkled into the podcast.

*Follow this link to join the Stride through the Holidays 5-week program: It’s just $25 and all proceeds go directly to Heart Strides!

*If you’re digging our podcasts, we’d be super-grateful if you’d take a minute (because we *know* you have so many to spare!) to write a review on iTunes. Many thanks.

**Also, the quickest way to get our podcasts is to subscribe to the show via iTunes. Clicking this link will automatically download the shows to your iTunes account. It doesn’t get any simpler than that. We’ve also joined the Acast podcast network, download their app to hear our podcast and many others like it!

6 Ways To Build Mental Toughness

Our Role Mothers have consistently shown us grace, inspiration, and strength on the road and the race course, and now we’re asking about mental toughness. It means something different to everyone, from the tenacity to make it through difficult miles to turning running a lifetime commitment. Here, they offer up their takes. Add your own down below!

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Nicole, the regular runner
When I don’t want to get out and run, I tell myself the first mile is always the toughest. So I tell myself, “Just get through Mile One and done.” The “catch” is that after the first mile you’ve found your groove and will just keep going. If it’s truly, truly horrible, you have to run back home, so at least you’ll have TWO miles under your belt.

Melissa, the marathoner
On mile 25, I’m thinking, Sweet mother of God, Mary, Joseph, and whoever else is currently keeping me upright, just exactly how long is 1 POINT 2 miles anyway? Please mirage of a finish line, come closer!!

Ashley, the beginner
I’ve played volleyball and softball multiple nights during the week for years, but neither pushes my body to continuously work like running has. I have never run a single race, not even a 5K, but I am determined to train my butt off to run a half-marathon in 2016!

Pam, the grandmother
In 2006, my rheumatologist told me I also had fibromyalgia. But I kept walking and logged a little over 400 miles the following year. In 2009, I logged almost 1,400 miles.

Sarah, the triathlete
When working out starts to feel like work, I call a BRF (or, in my case, a BTF–Best Training Friend) and meet up for a run, bike, or swim. Surrounding myself with strong, ambitious athletes is all the motivation I need!

Tania, the sputterer
I keep going because every time I finish a race I feel: Awesome. Accomplished. Proud. Amazing. Like a rock star. And hungry.

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