The Columbus Half Marathon is in 34 days (OMG), or 1 days and 4 days (OMG). I have five weeks left to train (OMG) as I just finished my 11th week of training (OMG).
OMG! Okay, we’ve gotten then OMG out of my system this week. We’ll revisit that next week.
My 11 mile run went so much better than my 10 mile run. This is why you don’t quit after a hard run. This is why you keep on keeping on. The morning of my 11 miler was cool and foggy. It actually started mist-raining even though my weather app said it wasn’t raining at all. I stopped at 5.29 to put a plastic bag on my phone and then kept on running. I ran in the neighborhood instead of at the trail as I had been up the night before with a stomach problem, so I didn’t want to be far from the house. That meant ALL THE HILLS. And I ran them. I ran them well. I am so proud of my hills; it’s almost a shame Columbus is a relatively flat course. That’s okay: The EQT 10 Miler has some hills! I’ll dominate them in November.
Reaching 11 mile—and having it go well—is always an important part of training to me. I can run 10 miles (normally apparently, not if it’s smokin’ hot outside) without much of a problem or big, long-training. 11 starts to trip me up. But it didn’t. I ran strong. 13 is within my grasp. I CAN DO THIS.
I made the hard choice to drop by one run per week this week. The four runs started to take a toll on my hips and back in a way that I felt seemed not good for the long-haul. Running with an existing back injury means that I have to listen to my body and adjust my training accordingly. As such, I will be running two weekday medium-length runs and one weekend/late week long-run.
Here’s how this week broke down:
Monday, run 41: 4.13 miles, 42:22, 10:16/pace
Tuesday, run 42: 5.13 miles, 49:30, 9:39/pace
Friday, run 43: 11.04 miles, 1:53:09, 10:15/pace
Saturday: Walked around for 5 miles at Cedar Point
Sunday: Walked to and from the Pirates game for 3 miles
I wanted to get back before they got on the bus for my five mile run… so I did. I booked it!
So this week I’m running 4 miles, 5 miles, and 12 miles. I’m excited for these runs as the temps have turned toward gloriously wondrous fall temperatures, making for a Happy Hot Runner. Let’s run ALL THE MILES!
Here’s to Week 12!
My friend Missie over at The Wheezy Runner tagged me in a meme to share some random facts about myself. Sure, why not. I feel like a lot of people know these things individually about me, but maybe not all five things at once.
1. I played softball for 11 years. It was as awesome as you might imagine. I mean, check this:
Epic. Thanks, 90s glasses and weird photography postures. Though I think both the glasses and the trucker hat are back in style. I was just ahead of my time.
2. I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was almost 17. My dad wanted me to learn to drive a stick shift first, but I failed. Big time. When I nearly killed us at the intersection of 168, 18, and Green Garden road, he gave up on me. Thankfully, or I’d still have to be chauffeured around, because that just ain’t gonna happen.
3. I quit drinking pop (soda for you weirdos) in October 2012. I occasionally miss it, but not too much. Mostly I only miss it when I have a sore throat and want some bubbles to make my throat feel better. I also miss it when I’m at Chipotle; my burrito bowl doesn’t taste the same with unsweetened iced tea. I need a fountain Coke! Sigh. I even purchased a Soda Stream for my husband for his last birthday and only have had a few sips to taste his creations. Writing this made me want some pop, so this is probably a fail.
4. I have “groovy” teeth. It’s not as cool as it sounds, and I unfortunately passed that genetic trait from my father on to my oldest son. Related: I have an epic fear of the dentist. Related: My husband’s mom fills my cavities. Related: :(
5. I really like 90s (alternative) music. This is not surprising if you follow me on Twitter or Spotify. But it’s true. Also true: In the summer of 2012, when we were without electricity for 9 days due to the de recho storm, my husband and I fell back in love with pop music as our only form of entertainment was a battery powered radio. I blame Carly Rae Jepsen for most of my running playlist nowadays, but there are some nice 90s alternative picks on there as well. My #inner90sgirl cannot be tamed.
I’m not tagging anyone, because that’s not how I roll. But I’d love if you’d tell me something random about you. I love learning these things about my friends.
Today the boys went to school. I worked a full day. I ran an errand and bought shiny things at the grocery store. I took the dog out, brought the dog in, took the dog out. I got the mail, opened packages. I talked on the phone, sent email, cussed at my email, tweeted, looked at Facebook, said a prayer for a friend paying her last respects to her grandmother today, read blog posts, and clicked through the Internet. I made a snack for the boys. I made dinner. I got us to soccer on time. I read while one kid practiced, and the other kid read his own book. I debated stopping for an iced latte, but the fall weather arrived sometime midday, leaving no desire for anything iced.
And then we stopped.
At the fire department.
I don’t like when he works on 9/11, but it happens. So we stopped. Just in time to help wash trucks.
I joked with the other firefighters. I snapped photos. I decided I should have the boys wash the house since they didn’t argue or whine once while they washed those trucks. We laughed.
And then I heard the flag snapping in the breeze. The flag, half mast.
We stopped to see him—my husband, their dad—but we stopped to be part of our family for just a few minutes this evening. Our bigger family, bigger than just the four of us. Our fire family: the one that extends beyond our home, beyond our department, beyond our state. The one that weeps today, still, and always for the 343.
We laughed tonight as the boys washed trucks, set off sirens. We laughed because we’re free to do so. We remembered just by being together.
And then I got to take the kids home, read them two books we always read on this day…
Fireboat and September Roses
…and then I answered their questions. Each year, they ask more and more questions. Each year, I answer them as best I can, with as much age appropriate information as I can. They told me what they learned in school today. I told them the new things I learned this year. They asked me for the first time where I was that day, and I told them I was at college. And then I tucked them in, finished the laundry, straightened the kitchen, sat down, and exhaled.
Today will never be just another day, but we move through it as best we can each and every year.
Football season is back.
And by football season, I refer not to the NFL or college or even high school football. I don’t actually even mean Pee-Wee or whatever we call little kid league football, because nope.
I mean football in our yard.
The boys really seem to like football. I mean, who wouldn’t? First of all, there’s a ball. Then there’s all kinds of tackling, and what’s more fun than tackling people, especially your brother. I also understand why they like the high school football team. You’ve got that whole Friday Night Lights thing, literally, with the lights and the cheering and the autumnal air and the feel of Friday night football in Midwestern America.
I get it.
Then there’s that thing that we do, that thing I don’t agree with, where we revere our high school football players. Not really our soccer players or our baseball players or our cross country runners any other team or individual sport and their players. We send the football players and their cheerleaders to local preschools, into elementary classrooms. We present them as these gods among men.
And then we let them get away with things. Steubenville was not the first nor the last high school to (attempt to) try to cover up what their football players did. And that’s why we get college players and then NFL players who feel invincible, like the rules don’t apply to them. It’s how we get coaches that feel as though they’re above the rules, that they can do what they want with other people, other human beings.
Football makes me uneasy anymore.
But not in my yard.
In my yard, it’s about two brothers tackling each other, about throwing the ball, about running as fast as you can to the other side of the back yard. It’s about time together with their dad, with their mom behind the camera sometimes and sometimes throwing a pass for them to catch. It’s about the summer slowly fading into fall, the evenings getting a bit shorter each night. It’s about spending as much time as we can outside, together. Brothers. Family. Us.
This post is sponsored by The Bouqs.
When my husband works a 36-hour shift (or longer), I buy myself flowers. It’s just what I do. I’ve done it for years and years, dating way back to when he worked at the ambulance company and was still in the Army. “Oh, you’re going to be gone for longer than 36 hours? Imma buy myself some flowers.” I like being reminded that what I do matters, that I matter too.
Also, I just really like pretty things. Flowers are pretty.
My favorite roses are yellow roses. My second favorite roses are hot pink roses. So when The Bouqs, a company who grows their flowers on the side of an active volcano (!!), asked if I wanted to pick a bouquet, send it to myself, look at pretty flowers, and then tell you guys about it, I picked Hot Lava. Hot Pink and Yellow roses? Volcano reference? Yes, please! (Though, the Rainbow Bouq was super tempting. OMG.)
They came on the day that I scheduled—right in the middle of a 36—and were absolutely perfect. The flowers come boxed carefully so they don’t get dinged up all the way from South America. The blooms held tight for the first day or so and then started to open up and share their true beauty. I enjoyed having them around the house, and they lasted for just over a week.
The Bouqs is a company I would use again. They offer a wide variety of beautiful bouquets and some interesting/new-fangled “concierge” services, including regular flower deliveries, calendars and reminders so you never forget a special person or celebration, and random, surprise deliveries. (I kind of want to sign up for that last one. Or someone else to sign up and send me random, surprise flowers. OMG. You know, if you’re looking for a gift idea for me. #justsayin)
I’ll make an order again soon, because another 36-hour shift will show up on the calendar. They always do.
Affiliate link in use. I could make money if you send flowers to your
significant other to apologize for being an idiot self.