GETTING MY TRAINING FLEEK ON

Is your training ON FLEEK this summer?

Mine has to be, and here's why:

A few weeks ago I decided that I would register for one of the epic ultra marathons on my fitness bucket list, the Javelina Jundred 100K. I know. CRAY.

I sat on the comfy bed at the Mountainview Best Western in the North Georgia Mountains, my finger hovering over the register button on Ultrasignup for about half a minute. I asked myself if I really wanted to take the leap from the 35 mountainous miles I had done at the Georgia Jewel the previous year to the arid 100K (62 miles) at the end of October in Arizona.

Georgia Jewel 35, Snake Creek Gap Aid Station

Would I be ready? Could I be ready? Would my body be able to carry me over 62 miles in the desert, running, walking, crawling?

Should I do it? Should I do it?
GO FOR IT! said my friend and ultra-partner in crime, Kelly.

I did this the evening before attempting The Double Tap 50K that deep down I knew I would not complete. That race was especially difficult because of my bum knee and the mountains and the bears. What the heck was I doing registering for a 100K then? Who knows? The mysterious and totally unexplainable habits of ultrarunners...

The big question then is what am I doing to prepare for this momentous and possibly disastrous occasion that could potentially destroy my delicate ego?

• I am ODing on Beachbody videos: T25, PiYo, and Les Mills Combat are my favorites. Maybe I'll throw in a little P90X. (I also really dig the Biggest Loser and Crunch and Taebo and The Firm videos too.) DO ALL THE EXERCISE.
• I am trying to lose enough weight to make a significant difference in my finishing time
• I am loosely following Bryon Powell's Relentless Forward Progress 40-70 Mile Race Training Plan
• I am working on tweaking my nutrition to optimize all energy systems (both aerobic and anaerobic, but especially aerobic)...you know, that pesky adenosine triphosphate stuff...
• I am swimming
• I am hiking 
• I am doing yoga
• I'm finding awesome and interesting ways to be active, ALL THE TIME (A note- it's not always easy to step out of your comfort zone, but DO IT! Life is short, death is forever.)
•  I am SLEEPING

At my school's climbing tower doing something different

As I was writing this blogpost I just got word that I got off of the Finger Lakes 50s waitlist and I'll be participating in the 50K! And now I'm SUPER nervous because that's a lot of running, in such a short time. It's a lot of running and training period.

Take a look at the schedule below. All of this means that my training needs to be absolutely ON POINT this summer, because if not, it will be a veritable self-induced sufferfest.

Here are my current plans for the summer and early fall:

June 13: Tortoise and Hare Midsummer Night's Dream Ultra 12 Hour
June 27: Catamount 50K
July 4: Finger Lakes 50K
August 15: Wildcat Ridge Romp 50K
September: A 40-50 mile race, possibly the Georgia Jewel 50--this race is GNARLY in all senses of the word and I'm scared.
October: Javelina Jundred 100K I'm scared of this one too.

As scary and overwhelming as all of this is, I am REALLY excited to test the limits of what my body and mind can do together in athletic pursuit. Maybe I won't be able to do it all. Maybe I will. I do know that I will know and respect my body more deeply while expressing my love for the outdoors through moving that body intentionally through nature.

HOW ABOUT YOU?

What is your training looking like this summer? What crazy events do you have planned to increase your fitness, indulge your desire to be outdoors, or just be badass? Join the conversation in the comments!

I Bearly Survived!

 Double Tap 50K Race Report (DNF)

Something happens to you when you are out in the forest alone, the nearest people 2 miles away in each direction, and having spent every ounce of physical and mental energy available in your reserves. The complete silence/the sound of the forest envelops you, your senses are heightened and alert, and you lose your sense of time, of place. You are in a sort of sylvan zone. At times you hallucinate, other times you are keenly aware of your surroundings...Waldeinsamkeit. Only now, during my half-hearted attempt at RD Perry Sebastian's Double Tap 50k at Fort Mountain State Park in Chatsworth, GA, the einsam part was null and void.

The race began normally enough, even as a heavy rain drenched the 20 or so runners assembled at the start line in the middle of the road. We ran downhill a bit and turned right into the lush, wet and cool forest whose colors were made sharper and more vibrant by the insistent precipitation. I wore my trusty TNF Capris, a Mountain Goat Adventures tech shirt, a Patagonia Houdini Rain Jacket, and my new favorite trail shoes: Pearl Izumi Trail M2s.

The air was cool. The raindrops splashed aggressively on my face. All was well even though I immediately fell into last place. I wasn't concerned about finishing however, as I had already decided that I would do only as much of the course as possible on my bum knee that had been aching on and off for the previous two weeks. I promised myself to run only as much as my knee would allow.

On the Big Rock Trail

Early on, first 5 miles

The course was comprised of a combination of the rolling Gahuti Trail, the Lake Trail, the Big Rock Trail and several mountain biking trails of various difficulties. There were beautifully runnable but fairly technical downhills, coupled with a bit of rock-scrambling on the short Big Rock Trail (that also had AWESOME views of surrounding peaks of the Cohutta Mountains).

Socks and Sustenance

Coming into the second aid station, where Jennifer
and Jim Dees were waiting

At the first aid station, there was a cheery woman named Kena (an accomplished ultra runner and multi-day racer herself) who was sweet and especially grateful that I had wished her
“Christos Anasti” for the Greek Orthodox Easter Holiday. She then made me a turkey sandwich.

As I entered the second aid station, I was heartened to be met by two friends, one who serenaded me with a song and the other who opened the hatch of the Swiftwick mobile and offered me socks and sustenance for the next few miles.

One of the highlights or (extremely low points--depending on how much of a trail-freak and masochist you are) was the power line climb. You know, those long lines of tall power lines that cut through forest bringing energy to far away places. Had I had ANY clue of how demoralizing this part of the course would be, I would have purchased trekking poles proactively to ensure that I would be able to keep up a semblance of an acceptable pace.

The Power-line climb seemed miles long, when in actuality it was about a mile with a 1000% grade the entire way. Ok, that's a bit of hyperbole... It was extremely taxing and tiring though, and I had no idea how many miles I had already accomplished because my Strava had decided that it would not cooperate that day.

NOT a motivational sign

As I ascended this climb, I listened to The Golden Compass: His Dark Materials imagining a daemon resting on my shoulder reacting to each of my expletives. 

This-@$#%$&;; mountain!   What the ;*$^$(????   Is Perry $^%;%(% crazy? When is this going to ^%&;;;%)ing end? 

Fast forward to the top of the power line climb, when you are thanking your maker that you GOT THROUGH THAT. The course turned left away from the power lines and was rolling. As I neared the next aid station, a chiseled, tanned hunk by the name of Rick Hulsey in a yellow "Enabler" t-shirt came running towards me. He ran with Black Diamond trekking poles and carried a humungous back pack with water and supplies. 

"There you are! We were worried about you! Are you ok?"

"Sorry, I'm just slow. REALLY slow. And WHAT THE %&;;;%% was THAT?"

"Don't worry, you won't have to do it again. The only really slightly bad part left is the double tap, but it's pretty short."(Pretty short is a relative term in trail running. It could be 2 miles, 5, or 10 depending on what you're comparing it to.) Consoled by that, I began running again trying not to be too slow, taking breaks on the uphills with Rick by my side. One of the reasons I love the trail racing community is that people look out for each other, even if it's their job. They care, genuinely.

Rick told me about his long distance running in honor of a family member, stopped to show me snags in tree trunks, and spoke proudly of his children. I told him about my own running adventures and how I ended up in the South. He then let me use his poles for the next mile or so, until we reached the Pinhoti connector trail. 

"How did you not bring poles?"

"Uh, I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I should know better."

Double Tap That, Bruh

We arrived at the Double Tap aid station, I thanked and bid adieu to Rick and began to descend the Pinohi Connector trail. 

"It's only like three quarters of a mile, yelled my friend Crystal who had decided to pull out at 14 miles. "You got this!"

Yeah, three quarters of a mile downhill and then three quarters of a mile uphill. Yep. I got this...

I was so slow on this 1.5 miles, Rick came looking for me again, offering me his poles. An angel. The next 4 miles were doable. I had eaten my Christos Anasti turkey sandwich , some jalapeño kettle chips, amazing granola (furnished by my buddy Kelly--who had also provided BACON for afterwards. Now, that, is a friend, folks) and flat coke. I felt that I could at the very least finish 20 and be ok with it. 

The last two miles, were---er, memorable. Just as I thought the most horrible part must be over,  the slightly inebriated aid station volunteers shattered my hopes of an easy downhill free fall to where I would be finishing. 

"It's all uphill from here."

I didn't believe them. "You're kidding, right? What's this trail? Where does it go?"

"Well, you could run down this trail and reach a dirt road and then be chased by dogs. Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

"SHIT!"

"It's a long, slow, switchbacking two miles. You got this."

"Jesus!", I muttered, almost jumping into and hiding in the back of the volunteer's pickup. I veered left and started climbing. My friend Amy, who had supplied many of us with an extra pair of dry Swiftwick Socks from her Swiftwick-mobile, passed me about a tenth of a mile in and offered me her poles since she had been on her way to finishing. I declined, informing her that I would not be doing 50k that day. She finished the course about 45 minutes before I came into the finish that I wouldn't finish.

The Fuzzy Wuzzies

As I rounded the millionth turn in the millionth switch back, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I do wear glasses but am not a contact lens wearer, so I squinted, still not able to see what had caught my attention. Having experienced a few hallucinations during many a long and arduous trail run, I took this dark movement as what is usually is, a tree stump or a dark hollow, or simply nothing. I rounded the corner and moved closer towards the "tree stump"--this time the tree stump had two sets of eyes, ears, shiny, ebony fur.

The two adolescent cubs stared at me curiously as if I were just another one of them, perhaps more smelly and a bit more bizarre. One raised itself upon its hind legs and peered at me from behind a tree 50 yards away, above the next switchback. The other stared and began to make bear cub noises that sounded much like a dog's frightened whimpering.

After the blood returned to my fingers, after my hands stopped shaking and after I stopped hyperventilating (for nothing, really), I blew the small whistle attached to the left shoulder strap of my Nathan VaporCloud hydration pack.

tooooot t-t tooooo, toooot t-t tooooo

tooooot t-t tooooo, toooot t-t tooooo

Silence. A pure, forested silence only interrupted by newly sprouted spring leaves rustling in the the hot and humid wind, the snap and crack of small tree branches broken by small rodent-sized animals, the somewhat menacing gurgling of a small culvert...

tooooot t-t tooooo, toooot t-t tooooo

tooooot t-t tooooo, toooot t-t tooooo

And then, birds.  Several birds began to answer my whistling in a reassuringly cacophonous but somewhat harmonious mish-mosh of sounds that did the job of dissipating some of my fear.

tooooot t-t tooooo, toooot t-t tooooo

tooooot t-t tooooo, toooot t-t tooooo

I looked around. Was this the Hunger Games? Was I the black Katniss? Where was my bow and arrow? Peeta? Cinna?

Alas, I was still fatgirldeathslogging stuck on the side of some mountain in Northwest Georgia on never-ending ascending switchbacks, the nearest people a mile away in each direction, with some bears thrown in the mix: two cubs with mom peering out from the den that I had passed earlier wondering if it was in fact a bear's den.

After I had finally come to my senses and calmed down, now kind of excited that I had had the rare opportunity to experience bears while on a trail run, and um, by myself, I picked up a large branch and a heavy rock. I tried to make myself look bigger to the cubs, who simply did not care.

I waved the branch and shouted "HEY BEARS. PLEASE GO AWAY. I JUST WANNA GO HOME. I'M TIRED, CAN'T YOU TELL? I'VE BEEN ON THIS MOUNTAIN FOR LIKE 10 HOURS. PLEASE? GO. AWAY.

They continued to stare with increasing curiosity and not move so I tried singing/yelling my own version of Rihanna's "Hard". HEY BEARS, IT'S SO HARD, YEAH-EH-THIS IS SO HARD while waving my stick and rock and tooting on my baby whistle, no Luther Vandross or Schubert this time.

The furry animals continued to stare at me and make appropriate bear noises that sounded very much like whimpering puppies, only louder and more insistent. After a minute or so of looking like the crazy black woman waving a stick and a rock on the side of the mountain, I decided to charge on and bite the bullet (or my tongue, literally.) I realized I would have to pass by the ebony fuzzy wuzzies twice, as they were stationed about 20 feet above the switchback and and a similar distance below the upper switchback. 

I felt momma's presence in the air, but thank goodness I had only sort of seen her eyes, because that would have been really freaky for this Brooklyn-turned-kinda-mountain-girl. Soldiering on, and simultaneously resigning myself to death by bears, I power-hiked past them like a bear-passing pro. You wanna kill me? There'll be a fight.

Alas, there was no fight. They lost interest and continued playing amongst the trees, as I inched my way to the last aid-station I would encounter on my DNF.  At the aid station, I commented on the stupid switchbacks and the bears. 

One of the many vistas on this course

White people reaction: OMG. You saw bears???? THAT. IS. SO. COOL. I've NEVER seen a bear on the trail. WOW. You're so lucky!

Black people reaction, later on when I posted about my experience on the NBMA (National Black Marathoners Association) Facebook group: Wait. Bears? Did you say there were BEARS on the course? That DNF would've been a DOA. 

As I departed the aid station, the volunteers told me that I would probably not be able to do the last 10 miles. 

'I wasn't planning on it. I'm done"

"Well, ok. You've got .2 straight uphill on the road. Sorry"

"Oh that's totally fine. I can do .2 more after that shit. I'm good. Thanks for being out here."

I trudged up the road to where we had started earlier that morning in the torrential downpour. My friends Susan and Thomas happened to manning the aid station to my delighted surprise, and boy, was I elated to see them. I plopped into a camp chair, poured a stiff pink gatorade, closed my eyes, and waited for my bacon providing turtle sister, Kelly.

Hope to tap this again next year, with poles!

An African, 20 Bucks and Snow. Lots of Snow.

Exploring the Lenape Trail: Essex County, New Jersey

Pre-run prep: you can never be overly prepared! I only used one gel
and had the homemade granola bar afterwards, in the car. 

While Newark, New Jersey is not on my bucket list of the most beautiful places to live in, it holds a special place in my heart. It was where almost 17 years ago I would work for a big corporate consulting firm among MBAs and business types feeling very self-important in my early 20s, and where I would eventually meet my husband at the Penn Station after a freak January-rain storm had kept me hostage in the office for 5 hours after work had ended. I left the following October and married my beautiful West-African husband a few months later. My return to Newark for the Lenape Trail 34 Mile Run, a fatass event  sponsored by the New Jersey Trail and Ultra Runners, was equally auspicious, and also included an African.

More pre-run prep: TNF Winter Warm Tights, TNF Isotherm 1/2 Zip,
a cheap Energizer Head Lamp, Trail and Ultrarunning Buff, Altra
Compression Socks, and a Nike Thermal Shirt

After waking up at 3:30am (if you are a runner who does weekly long runs, this is completely normal, especially on a Saturday or Sunday) and driving to a town a few miles west of Newark that would be the finish of the 34 mile run, I arrived at the Millburn NJ Transit station, which was an ice-skating/ice-driving rink. It also was 6 degrees out and my fingers had basically frozen solid after walking across the parking lot.

Part of Belleveille Park

Fast forward to the start of the run: I had arrived an hour earlier so that if by chance I was planning on actually finishing the run, I would have a good opportunity to do so in daylight. Arriving earlier meant that I would have to find the start on my own; as I left the Broad Street station, I started walking in the wrong direction, WITH my navigation engaged on the cell phone. After watching my ETA climb up to 45 minutes, I decided to hail a cab. A NYC taxi turned the corner just as I had the thought. He pulled over and asked where I was going. Riverfront Park? Do you know where that is? NO, but I can try. I didn't even care how much it would cost, it was so cold.

This was the shallow stuff.

As we searched for the start, we started talking. Oh, you're a teacher. That's nice. What? You're here to run? HOW much? Wait, WHY? You couldn't get me to run…Do you have kids? An 11 year old, he must be big. Oh, your husband is African? I AM TOO! From Senegal. OUI. You speak French? WOW. I am so impressed. 

How I've never run in Yaktrax before this run, I DON'T KNOW.

We arrived at what I assumed was the start, Are you sure this is it? It looks kinda remote and maybe not safe. I mean, I live in Newark and I don't know what this is…we exchanged info--my blog name, and he his writer-sister's name and email, and then I asked Cest combien? C'est un plaisir. If I had wanted to charge you I would have turned on the meter. Bonne chance, ma soeur!

A welcome sight, after the urban decay in parts of Newark

After many wrong turns and stops to read my map, stop for a croissant at a gas station (I know, GROSS--but I had forgotten to eat breakfast), and talk to a random older guy on a corner who wished me well even though he had just been released from the hospital across the street with stitches and other things and was clearly in pain, I finally got on course. Locating the actual yellow blazes for the Lenape Trail was an adventure in itself, and I'm sure I looked like a crazy runner bag-lady with a croissant hanging from my mouth, a hydration pack whose hose had already frozen after only 2.5 miles, various items (ski socks, a thick striped woolen scarf, Yaktrax) bungeed to it, and a Trail and Ultrarunning buff under my Trail and Ultrarunning cap looking a little runnah-gangstah…

Running on the Lenape Trail is an adventure. The terminus of the trail is on the west bank of the Passaic River, which tries valiantly to NOT be a cesspool of petroleum additives and other poisonous nastiness. The designer of the trail wished to create a way in which to traverse Essex county in Central NJ via its parks, monuments, and tourist attractions. It is a mixed trail combining road/sidewalk running in its more urban reaches, park paths, and single track in its westernmost sections.

Finally! A blaze.

Branch Brook Park

After finally finding my way to Branch Brook Park, where the blazes were actually visible and NOT located on the bottom of snowdrift covered streetlamp posts, I headed north into the park. A quarter of a mile in, I spotted a folded up twenty dollar bill on the ground, all lonely and forlorn-looking. Without breaking my stride, I picked it up and said thanks to the universe for paying for my tolls and croissant.

The running was easy on the street, but hellishly difficult (which required slow, slogging steps) in the knee-deep snow as the trail continued north into Belleville. Imagine a stair-climber, elliptical, Cybex Arc Trainer workout all in one with cold, wet feet just getting accustomed to wearing metal spikes on their bottoms. This was when I started to imagine I was on the South Col of Everest, pretending I was a black sherpa--in New Jersey.

After leaving Branch Brook Park, the trail crosses over Second River into Belleville Park, an ex-urban oasis that reminded me of more remote untouched trails further north.  After losing the blazes a few more times, I left the park and crossed Belleville Avenue, heading northwest. At this point I was a little less than 10 miles into my run and I was finally hungry and thirsty. I spotted Rosebuds Luncheonette on a corner where the trail would head due north again and ordered a my classic NY-NJ breakfast, a butter(ed) roll and cawfee black.

Well, I'll just run a marathon then

Sitting at the counter reconfiguring and defrosting my thoughts, I decided that at the very least I would run a marathon. That would be fair, I thought- 13.1 out and 13.1 back.  I felt great after leaving the restaurant and made my way up a residential street lined with neat one-family houses, some hidden by huge snowbanks. Then things began to change. As the trail begins to follow aqueducts, the traversing becomes very difficult and time-consuming. The snow on mostly unused trail, was very deep, and this required so much leg lifting, stopping, resting, balancing, etc. that I eventually had a conversation with myself and agreed that I would go no further, unless I wanted to risk being stuck in the dark, freezing woods somewhere in central Jersey/Everest.

I turned back, saluted the rest of the trail and any participant who would finish that day (12 did). I hiked back out of snow-hell, and returned the way I came, this time following the trail, blazes and all back into Newark, ending my run at 19.4 miles. A bitterly cold wind welcomed me back into the city. I hopped on the train back to Milburn at Penn Station, found my car, inhaled the granola bar that I had left in it and drove back to Brooklyn.

What a day! To appreciate the Lenape Trail is to believe you are on some urban adventure, looking for clues as to where to head for the next snowy surprise. Here's hoping that next year there aren't too many polar vortices and freak snow storms on the Belleville Col and many more people will start and eventually finish this great event. Happy Trails!

My Fitness Bucket List

A few friends and I are planning a fairly epic adventure in a couple of years. In fact, it's so epic that we have to save and raise tons of money, acquire gear and necessities (which are not cheap), and perform a huge amount of research before we even think about purchasing plane tickets. Luckily, we are all marathoners and ultramarathoners so even though the physical challenge of this journey doesn't seem too overwhelming, it IS overwhelming. We are so excited!

This started me thinking about all of the physically challenging things I'd like to do before I am unable to, whether it is death (which is certain) or some other unfortunate circumstance that prevents me.

What's on your FITNESS BUCKET LIST? Here's what's on mine (I've posted the links to these fabulous events so you can check them out and maybe do some of them yourself):

• The Transrockies Run 6 Day Stage Race. Dream

• A multi-day hike/backpacking trip with Greg Aiello, the guy who narrated the Live Well Network's Motion series  exploring natures bounty, sometimes with people and other times alone. The show was recently cancelled, as was the fledgling ABC lifestyle network.  But I still have a dream to participate in a trip led by Mr. Aiello as my um, personal guide. From the very first sho, I was instantly hooked by the awesome photography, expansive views atop various peaks and more claustrophobic ones deep reddish-orange in canyons.

• R2R2R-->Rim to Rim to Rim at the Grand Canyon, hiking or fast-packing. Even though there are signs posted at various points saying you will probably die. 

• The Paris and Berlin Marathons and a host of of other European marathons in major cities, but I hear these two in particular are fab. 

• NYC Marathon: Please, universe. Please. And just this once I'd like to do a 5:30 marathon. Just this once. I would like to run in my hometown, maybe next year.

• A 100 Miler such as THIS one, I think I'd be satisfied with doing just one. Did I just put this out there? For the uninitiated, a 100 miler is exactly what it says, but on foot and likely running through the night for long periods alone. 

• Javelina Jundred 100k I've been eyeing this one for a couple of years. 

• Finishing the TGNY 100K. Like actually finishing. I've attempted this twice: once just using the course markers after the actual racer, I'll achieve many more miles.

• Philadelphia Marathon

• NJ Trail Series 50 Miler during the Ultra Festival

• Lake Placid Marathon

• Finishing the TGNY 100K. Like actually finishing. I've attempted this twice: once just using the course markers after the actual race began, and the second time finishing 27.5 miles of the course before I was done. Maybe this year, I'll achieve many more miles.

• Chattanooga Half Ironman

• Scuba diving. Anywhere.

• An Outward Bound multi-day backpacking experience for adults, such as THIS

• Sky-diving

• Getting above half of a rock-climbing wall. This would be a huge accomplishment!

• A 24-hour race, like this one

• Hiking lots of the AT and the PCT in sections. I've been intrigued by the Appalachian Trail since forever, and even thought I did NOT particularly fall in love with Cheryl Strayed, I loved the retelling of her journey on the Pacific Crest Trail

• Go on a short solo backpacking trip. This is probably the MOST scary and what I'll need the most hand-holding for

• Fat-Dog 50 Miler in BC, Canada. This looks so amazing. Every time I see an ad for it in Trail Runner Mag, I feel the urge to hop on a flight RIGHT THIS INSTANT to Canada

• PARKOUR-Basically what we used to do off of the monkey-bars in city parks and in pre-hipster Brooklyn racing down our long blocks doing what we called "fence races"--in a glorified manner.

• Backpack around the base of Everest and then up to base camp.

• Run around the island of Roatán in the Bay Islands of Honduras to salute my ancestors (and current family, too)

• Hiking and then summiting Kilimanjaro

• The Laugavegur Ultramarathon in Iceland, and then go sit in the Blue Lagoon for hours afterwards. How cool would it sound to say, "Yeah dude, I just ran the Laudate Dominum Marathon in Iceland?" How COOL?

• Anything on Mt Rainer. Nuff said.

• Maui Marathon or anything on Hawaii? Volcanic marathon? Yes. Beach marathon? Yes.

• A Denali Back-packing expedition, NOT Chris McCandless-style, though.

• A Kripalu Yoga Retreat

• A Canyon Ranch anything. I can dream…

This is just the beginning. 

Cheerleaders Don't Always Have Pom-Poms

A sign made by my cousins before my 4th Marine Corps Marathon in 2014

A few years ago while out on my very first 18 mile training run on the Columbia Trail in High Bridge New Jersey, I stepped off to the side of the trail to collect myself. I was beginning to chafe everywhere (this was before I was aware of high quality tech fabric and BODY GLIDE.) There was substantially more weight on my body than there is now and I felt extra heavy and in pain, everywhere. I was wearing the wrong kind of shoes. It was hot, and unbearably humid. I wanted so badly to stop and lie down in the poison ivy at the side of the trail.

I didn't even have a chance to throw in the towel. Just as these negative thoughts began floating around me like the filth does around that dirty kid in Charlie Brown cartoons, an angel in the form of a man named Ralph Abramowitz ran by me, and then stopped when he realized there was a person standing, half hidden behind a tree at the side of the trail. I can only imagine how I must have looked.

"Hey! Are you okay?" he asked, smiling.

"Um, I think so. Just taking a break."

"How much ya' doing today?"

"Eighteen" I said, incredulously. Did that number just come out of my mouth?

"Wow! Whatcha training for?"

"The Marine Corps Marathon." Did I just say that? Holy shit, I'm really training for a marathon.

"That's great! You're gonna LOVE IT!"

I bet I am, said that negative voice of mine that loves to present itself when I least need it to. I. Bet. I. Am. But I smiled and said, "I hope so. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to run for 9 more miles."

Ralph smiled his big, radiant smile. "You got this far, you can do it again. Take a break. Drink your water. Have a gel. And then get started again. YOU GOT THIS."

Who was this overly chipper guy and why was he trying to convince me of the impossible?

"I'm Ralph by the way, and I've got a group called Ralph's Runners, and we're out here every weekend. I've got my runners doing 22 today. They're also doing MCM. Listen, I gotta go but we have a group on Facebook. I'd love for you to join. Look us up! What's your name by the way?"

"Mirna"

"Mirna, it was nice to meet you. Remember, you got this far..."

"THANKS RALPH!"

And then he ran off.

TWENTY-TWO miles? I couldn't even wrap my head around 18. Wow.

I did exactly what Ralph said and managed to finish the second half of my run, albeit with tremendous foot pain from plantar fasciitis, back soreness, brain fatigue. But I completed it. This was because of two things--I had to (my car was 9 miles away) and because this stranger had encouraged me to finish it, even though he didn't KNOW me from a poison-ivy covered tree or a menacing looking black bear on the prowl. He was cheering me on, encouraging me, transferring his energy and positivity to me.
In sports as in life, the purpose of cheerleaders, whether they are the pom-pom wielding ones in brightly colored ribbons and short skirts or the super-acrobats catapulting themselves into thin air, is to "energize the team and the crowd." I would take it a step further and say that the most important aspect of cheerleading is to SUPPORT the team, loudly and energetically so that that any negative thinking or juju from the other team is drowned out in positivity and er, cheer. 
As a non-traditional runner and fitness enthusiast, it has become increasingly clear how much support and encouragement I needed and still need in order to be able to do the things I am able to do, like complete an ultramarathon, backpack in the Appalachian Mountains for few days with a 60 Lb pack on my back while being responsible for myself and ten students, or to keep it real, just to be able to run whenever and wherever I want to. 

After about 6 hours of switchbacks in Pisgah National Forest heading toward Pinnacle Mountain.

The running and fitness communities are incredible, as are those who are spectators. Everyone who has ever said, GET IT!, YOU GO GIRL!, YOU GOT THIS!, FINISH STRONG!, SMILE! ONLY 26 MILES LEFT!, OMG YOU ARE OUT HERE!, JUST A FEW YARDS TO GO!, LOOKING GOOD, UM, THAT SEXY MARINE JUST SMILED AT YOU!.....is a cheerleader. Anyone who has ever made a sign to hold up for hours and hours at a marathon is a cheerleader. Anyone who helps you get up in the morning so that you can workout like you promised yourself you would is a cheerleader. Anyone who gives you that encouraging smile or a simple thumbs up is a cheerleader.

Surround yourself with cheerleaders so that they help to drown out the internal and external saboteurs that loudly question your ability or commitment to your body. Be a cheerleader for those on the path to fitness and for those who need a smile or acknowledgement that yeah, this is hard. Finally, thank your cheerleaders and acknowledge them. They deserve it.

I'm seven marathon distances and 2 ultramarathon distances in since my encounter with Coach Abramowitz. Thank you, Ralph.

I CAN'T SLEEP!

THANK YOU

Tammi Nowack, Photographer

As you may or may not know, a few days ago I was one of two bigger gals featured in a Wall Street Journal Article "Weight Loss or Not, Exercise Yields Benefits" by health and fitness writer, Rachel Bachman. What an incredible honor to be recognized for what I love doing by the friggin WALL STREET JOURNAL! I also got a shout out from Clark Howard during his radio show on Feb 10 (start the podcast 43 minutes in.) How's that for major kudos? What an honor to have such an overwhelming response by all of my family, friends, colleagues, and a slew of people I don't even know! 

If you haven't had a chance to read the article yet, HERE it is. Also, be sure to read my long-time friend and colleague Derrick Gay's excellent response and deconstruction of the concept of  LOOKISM on his blog Diversity Derrick.

I haven't been able to sleep for the past week or so. I am so excited to have been profiled because of the mere existence of this here blog and this post in particular. I thank all of you who have read it and participated in all of my adventures, either in real-life or vicariously! RUN ON.

 

Waldeinsamkeit

Waldeinsamkeit: Classical music, KESHA, and running in the woods

The view from a trail in Juneau, Alaska!

Some of you may know that I am a classically trained singer and on occasion, I geek out on all things classical. Although I don't sing much anymore, I find much pleasure and satisfaction in connecting my singing past to my running present.  There are many similarities between expressing the beauty that is life with the human instrument and running for hours, alone with yourself, your legs, your mind and the flora and fauna that give us life and sustenance. There is such basic humanity in both, and each is a metaphor for the other.

Photo of me, Courtesy of Tammi Nowack, Photographer

Have you ever wandered into the woods and become struck with a sense of awe, peace, and complete connectedness to your own self and to the surrounding beauty? That is Waldeinsamkeit, German for the feeling of being alone in the woods. To experience Waldeinsamkeit is to experience a sort of visceral spirituality. It satisfies that basic human longing to connect with nature, the universe. I love running trails because I am and have always been an introvert. Even though I have a job which requires me to be around and engaging with people constantly (and TEENAGERS at that!) all the time, pretty much every day except during the summer, I prefer to be alone immersed in a hefty tome or experiencing flow, running amidst trees, on pebble and boulder, splashing in puddles, crossing cold, rushing brooks. Running like this, even in a race situation is a meditation and complete envelopment of body and soul. Anytime I'm in a forest, whether it be the Chattahoochee National Forest in the South, or the Bronx's Van Cortlandt Park in late spring with the distant hum of cars and trains, I am immediately soothed by an exquisite solitude in running through trees.

Dem Schnee

One of the pleasures of singing classical music is becoming intimately acquainted with with sublime poetry set to most vivid piano accompaniments. Many composers, particularly those from the romantic era, had and expressed a strong, almost ethereal connection to the outdoors. They read and  obsessed over poems and novels, particularly those about love, unrequited love, and nature. Sometimes nature offered solitude and time to ponder all things existential.  Other times it proved to be a huge life metaphor; there were things humans simply could not overcome, although we tried and still try.

I sing a lot while running--or power hiking, as is the case on many a trail run. Sometimes it's a Schubert song with an energetic accompaniment that mimics driving rain and snow (been there, done that) that I imagine my friend Sylvia playing spiritedly. Other times it's a more pensive and slow-moving piece like Brahms' Feldeinsamkeit.  Ach! The Germans and Austrians knew. They simply knew the cleansing and mind-clearing and mood-enhacing abilities of the outdoors! NO DRUGS NECESSARY.

Trail with creepy cave, in Spoleto, Italy

I recall each section of a particular trail or race by the music that I associate it, and sometimes it is decidedly not classical. In my last ultra, The Georgia Jewel 35 Mile, I distinctly remember singing, well...yelling Kesha's Crazy Kids at at the top of my lungs. It was a very long uphill section after the 17.5 mile turn-around. I was in last place at that point (and remained so for the rest of the course) and happened to be asking myself "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING and WHY?" when miraculously, this song started playing on my Pandora, deep in the woods somewhere on the Pinhoti Trail. I totally needed the affirmation of crazy. After three miles of power hiking uphill, stopping, crying, thengetting angry, and being okay, and then not being okay,  I changed the station to Maria Callas. The aria (an operatic solo) from Puccini's Sola, Perdutta, Abandonata sung by Renata Scotto came on (Alone, Lost, and Abandoned). Perfect. Just perfect.  Sometimes the universe just knows.

School Cross Country Trail

Other times, I listen to and sing Luther Vandross songs, like I did at the Wildcat Ridge Romp--that was because of a particularly scary section of trail. Everyone's fair game. Extreme, the Indigo Girls, The Cranberries, TI, Missy...and Debussy. Jay-Z is GREAT by a rushing river with few rock-hopping opportunities. Sometimes, the flood of testosterone is all that is needed to overcome any fears of being sucked into a hydraulic. But I digress...

So happy to be on a trail in Italy

Alone in the woods, running, I am able to focus on the pure physicality of existence. When I am singing, there is a physicality, spirituality, and direct connection with the world that can only be expressed with the human voice, which is an essential part of the human body--just as your legs and heart are. Prancing about in the forest is the perfect fusion of of pure physicality, nature's awe-inspiring and silent yet noisy poetry, and solitude that is simultaneously stimulating, sensuous, and calming. Singing while running only enhances this experience (in addition to making you less scared of the imaginary cougar stalking you in the trees.) Go run and sing!