Run 4 Mike's Kids... literally

The second annual Run 4 Mike's Kids 4-miler was held Monday morning. Last year, I smashed my goal of sub-32 minutes with a 31:06. I knew I'd have a tough time matching that this year (my speedwork has been nonexistent), but I was going to give it my best.

The Fast Cats cross-country team used the race as their Monday practice. It was AWESOME to see my kids there in their uniforms and Fast Cats t-shirts, all running across the grass in Rockford Park to hug Miss Alexis and shower me with love. Truly, truly the best job ever. I adore these kids.

When the gun sounded, I took off at what I thought was a fast but comfortable pace. I was right behind IronEx and Amy B, who ended up running perfect 7:30s for all four miles, so I was on track for a 31:xx. The Fast Cats of course went out WAY too fast, and I started passing some of them as they slowed from all-out sprint to a more moderate pace. About 3/4 of a mile into the race, still in the park, I passed one of the Cats, a new boy named Nyjere. At a Fast Cats practice I attended two weeks ago, Nyjere, a girl named Gionni, and I got hopelessly lost in the trails and ended up running/walking our own little route until we made it back to the group.

Nyjere was hurting. Bad. He was panting, and his form already looked a little sloppy. I urged him to slow down a bit to get his breathing under control, reminding him that he still had a long way to go.

Me: Hey buddy. Slow down a little, OK?
Nyjere: [grunt]
Me: This is a long race, sweetie. You have a long way to go, so you have to pace yourself.
Nyjere: [panting]
Me: You OK?
Nyjere: [grunt]
Me: Sweetie, do you want me to stay with you?
Nyjere: Yes, please.

So I did. I slowed my pace and gave up on my own race without giving it a second thought.

Within another half mile, we saw Gionni, still running but obviously having a hard time with pacing. I told Nyjere, "We'll pick up Gionni and run with her the rest of the way, OK?" He nodded.

The three of us ran the rest of the way together, until the very end when I told them to finish strong and sprint it in. Our splits were something like 8:33, 9:45, 11:31, and 10:15. Four miles in 40:04.

Run 4 Mike's Kids really WAS for the kids this year.

I'm so indecisive

Months ago, the Outer Banks Marathon was suggested as a fall meet-up for my running group. I immediately decided to go to run the half marathon and signed up accordingly.

When Voodoo died, I decided to VTFU and upgrade to the full marathon in his honor. Since then, my running has been sporadic, at best. This week's total, thus far, as an example: zero miles.

I also was recruited to be a volunteer coach for the new Fast Cats cross-country team. Practices are three evenings a week, which clearly cuts into my running time.

I also signed up for another sprint triathlon on September 13, after my great success last weekend. Quite frankly, triathlons are WAY more fun than just running; however, by their very nature, they require quite a bit of cross-training.

With work demands, some upcoming travel (just long weekends, but still), my volunteer commitments, and the unrealistic pressure I always put on myself, I cracked last night. Tearfully, I told a friend on the phone, "I can't even find the time to run 5 miles! How the eff am I going to do those 20s??"

I am clearly not cut out to run marathons. Every time I try to commit to one, I back out. Now I know not to commit, at least. I'll stick to triathlons and half marathons and shorter races.

And so, I emailed the OBX race director and active.com this morning and asked them to switch me back to the half marathon.

I feel like a failure. I feel so humiliated. I feel like a big loser (and not in a positive reality show kinda way).

However, my stress level decreased significantly last night when I made that decision. What also helped was the amazing pep talk I received on the phone. You know who you are, and I absolutely love you and can't thank you enough for your support and your valued advice.

Let's think of words...

... that rhyme with Vick.

Hick
Thick
Sick
Dick
Prick
Inconsistent, overrated, undeserving, sadistic, evil, inhumane piece of shit.

Shoot, that doesn't rhyme.

Oh well.

VTFU

My friend Joe - a runner, boxer, writer, animal lover, advice giver, nurturer, dreadlock wearer, beer drinker, and all-around wonderful person - died in his sleep sometime Thursday night or Friday morning. He was 37.

Known as Voodoojunkie on kickrunners.com, Joe was one of the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful people I knew. I had the great fortune to meet him at a few races and spend time with him. He was always quick to lend support to new runners or anyone, regardless of skill or experience, who needed a mental boost. He added countless words and expressions to our group's lexicon: by the Gods, sweating like 10 whole men, bio-solid, I reckon, and, especially, Cowboy the F Up (or CTFU for short).

Since Monday when word spread about his passing, it's become VTFU -- Voo the F Up.

It's a reminder to pull up your bootstraps when times are tough. It's a motivational tool to get you through a tough run or hard day or difficult time in your life.

It's now a mantra.

Joe was taken from us much, much too soon. His impact, however, will be felt for years to come. At least three or four of my running friends give him full credit for their dedication to the sport. He was the one who reached out to them, made them feel welcome in our little cyber-group, and offered just the right words of encouragement to keep them from giving up.

We feel a huge loss. A hole that cannot possibly be filled. Our hearts are heavy, and our tears are plentiful.

But how lucky were we to have him in our lives for even a brief period?

Voo, I will miss you constantly, but I know you're smiling down on all of us from that big finish line in the sky. We'll meet again, my friend. When we do, I will be able to tell you in person how very much you have meant to me.

Rest in peace, sweet Voodoo.

Cramming

My A race is in less than four weeks. Last year at this race -- the Northeast Triathlon, my only Olympic distance tri so far -- I vowed to never, ever do it again. It was painful. It was hot. It was hilly. It was LONG.

It was horrible.

After the initial self-pity, I re-examined my vow. I knew I could improve on my overall time. I knew where I could push and where I should hold back, unlike last year when I basically took the entire race pretty conservatively because it was the first time at that distance.

So I signed up again.

And then I skipped far too many key workouts. And didn't work on my biking as much as I should have. And thought about dropping out of the race or selling my bib to someone else.

And then I really had a reality check and came to the conclusion that I was being a big baby.

So now I have 27 days to go, and I'm trying to cram about 8 weeks of training into less than 4 weeks. My swimming has improved tremendously since last year. (These enormous linebacker shoulders are good for something after all!!!) My running is probably about the same as it was last year. My biking... well... my biking is what it is.

But I'll go out there on August 16 and do the absolute best I can do on that day. If I finish with a faster time than last year, I'll be ecstatic. If I'm slower than last year, I'll be disappointed... but not devastated.

What would be devastating would be to not even try.

I am

the worst blogger EVER! Holy moley, it's been more than a month since I've written anything!

Not that I don't have anything to say... I have LOTS to say! (When don't I?) :) I just don't have any spare time to sit down and write anything intelligible.

Life is hectic and wonderful and crazy and wacky and unpredictable and fun and stressful and busy and joyous and sweet and bittersweet and full of twists and turns. And I wouldn't have it any other way.