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Month: May 2014

ZOOMA Napa 13.1: looking forward to bullshit-free running

ZOOMA Napa 13.1: looking forward to bullshit-free running

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When my family and I moved to the Bay Area from Chicago in December, a lot of things, obvious and not-so-obvious, changed. I will be the first to admit that I was a bit terrified about the move, and at the core, I was (probably) most anxious about essentially being the new kid at school for the first time in over a decade.

Yea, things look just a little different here.
Yea, things look just a little different here.

 

While I consider myself a pretty outgoing gal, and a fairly gregarious one at that, I also think I’m a bit goofy–as many of my people are–and wondered how the hell I’d meet people, make friends, and basically, figure shit out here in the absence of working outside the home and having lots of facetime with adults daily. Seriously, I have sometimes wondered if my being a SAHM has affected my abilities to seamlessly interact with other adults… but hey, being awkward can be kinda fun… the operative word here is “kinda”…

Anyway, shortly after we made the move, I began putting myself out there way more than I had in recent history in Chicago, again, in no small part because I felt like it was in my best interests to do so here in order to make friends. Of course, the easiest way for me to put myself out there, by being a stay-at-home mom, was through social media. I started writing more here and posting weekly training recaps for Oakland, stuff that I never thought anyone would have any interest in reading; I played on twitter more than I had been (but as usual, typically only during toddler downtime, or pre-predawn runs); I not only got on but also joined some groups on facebook (which, if you know me, is a BFD because I loathe facebook and deleted my account many years ago); and on a whim, I applied to be a social media ambassador for some Bay Area races, including TSFM, the 408k, and the ZOOMA Napa half marathon/10k.

When the various races (surprisingly) selected me to help promote their races, I immediately thought cool! Free race entry! Easy way to meet other runners in the area! followed by fuck! I’ve gotta come outta my cave! As I’ve written about elsewhere, it’s significantly easier to keep your (read: my) life and training and goals all clammed up in a space that you (me), and only you (me), is privy to; however, the challenge, and subsequent growth, I’d argue, lies in laying it all out there for people to take in for themselves–judgement be damned.

I’ve gotten to thinking about this stuff again recently because I’ve been thinking a bit more about the ZOOMA half marathon in Napa at the end of June. Though I don’t know for certain right now, it’s fairly probable that I’ll race it (!!!) and use it as a tune-up/gauge for TSFM a month later. I haven’t truly raced a half marathon all year (and really, in a long time… maybe since January ’12, if memory serves). I’m really excited about the ZOOMA race because I’m looking forward to seeing where my fitness is, post-Oakland and post-Newport (21 days from today, yeessh!), and more importantly, I’m also really looking forward to meeting the other Napa ambassadors with whom I’ve connected via social media over the past few months. These women seem awesome, and I’m excited to meet more social media buddies IRL…and yes, I went there with the internet acronyms.

logo_napa

Admittedly, I don’t often run women-focused or women-marketed races like ZOOMA, but when I do, I find them to be incredibly empowering and motivating. What stands out most to me about women-centered races is that, while they’re not necessarily a crazy-ass-competitive environment–and that’s cool, and really, totally a-okay–they’re quite supportive and downright celebratory of their participants and the work they’ve put in to get there. Every racer matters, regardless if she’s throwing down 6 or 16 minute miles. And personally, women’s races like ZOOMA are really awesome reminders for me to reflect on how far I’ve come in my running, as I witness so many women participating in their first endurance event, and I can get downright teary (no surprise) and giddy cheering for the other runners,  just about as much as I do running it, myself.

from Ragnar SoCal. Cheering for other runners brings me to my happy place, much as running does. (credit: Jordan)
from Ragnar SoCal ’14. Cheering for other runners brings me to my happy place, much as running does. (credit: Jordan)

For me, the running community is about so much more than just my racing; supporting and encouraging others is a big part of the puzzle as well.

Another distinguishing characteristic for me with all-women’s races, and probably the biggest selling factor, is the general lack of cattiness/stupid judgement/bullshit between female runners. I notice this shit all the time when I run and race. Rarely do I get a wave or an acknowledgement of my presence from other female runners while I’m running, regardless (especially) if I initiate the communication. Men, on the other hand, seem to have no problem whatsoever to reciprocate communication with me.  I’m not entirely sure what the root of this is, but I do know that, based on the all-women’s races I’ve run in the past, women are generally way more supportive and encouraging of each other in this environment than in others (and, sidenote: during Ragnar SoCal a couple months ago, I distinctly remember that it wasn’t until my final relay leg, when I was running against other women on the roads–women who weren’t running Ragnar but were just out for their morning runs–that they were suddenly encouraging and acknowledging of my presence and communication. During that final leg, I can’t tell you how many fistbumps, looking good, sister!, thumbs-up, and the like I got from these other, non-Ragnar women. In contrast, the women I passed, talked to, or ran near in Ragnar, the ones actually running the relay, couldn’t have given a damn about me or my efforts to connect with them. WTF, women. What. The. Fuck).

Anyway, suffice it to say that I’m getting excited for Napa. There are lots of cool sponsors who have been really great to the other ambassador ladies and me–thank you, Altra, Ultimate Direction, Cytomax/Muscle Milk, Ultima Replenisher, and more!–and I’ve since learned that RunningAddicts, one of the South Bay running groups to which I belong (and the folks responsible for my fun pacing gigs recently) will also be serving as the pacers at the race, so it’ll be fun to see some familiar faces up north. I’m expecting nothing less than a runnah love-fest.

just a handful of RA half and full pacers at Brazen Racing's Western Pacific races on 5/3/14. See me? :) (photo cred: Linh)
just a handful of RA half and full pacers at Brazen Racing’s Western Pacific races on 5/3/14. See me? 🙂 (photo cred: Linh)

 

More than anything, I’m looking forward to being in a community of (primarily, though not exclusively) female runners and being surrounded by a lot of “sisterhood-driven positivity” (that sounds horrendous, but I think you get what I mean) for a change, instead of the same ol’, same ol’ inter-lady bullshit negativity and cattiness.

Goes without saying that, while I’m an ambassador for ZOOMA Napa, these views are mine and mine alone.

During your training or races, have you observed any notable differences between how men/women interact with you?  What do you think accounts for the differences/similarities? Surely I can’t be the only one who experiences this…

And hey… join me in Napa. NAMB8 gets you 10% off the 10k or the half. As my three year-old says, it’ll be “like super fast” or “like super fun!”

Strategically unfocused

Strategically unfocused

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I alluded to this in my last post, but now that it’s May—which is race month, people (!)—I’m beginning to think just a liiiiiiiiiiittle bit more about the Newport Marathon here in a handful of weeks and how I’m feeling going into it, what my (rough) expectations and hopes and dreams are at this point, and ya know, the usual, healthy things to think about, like “fuck, am I prepared???” and the ever-popular “why, exactly, am I running another marathon??” sentiment.

As I’m writing (and thus, thinking) about my running and this cycle on a macro-level, since really, that’s why I write about my running in the first place–writing makes me dwell less on the micro and forces me to think more macro—I think the best way that I can characterize my training and my running right now is that I’m feeling (being?) strategically unfocused.

In my last post, I wrote that I almost feel like I’m being ambivalent about my training for Newport in the 10 weeks post-Oakland.

I kinda don’t buy this sentiment.

If I were being ambivalent:

  • I wouldn’t be predawning almost daily;

  • I wouldn’t be stressing my body with a heavy volume of miles each week;

  • I wouldn’t be subscribing to Pfitz again, whose plans, while sound, are taxing;

  • and more than anything, if I were being ambivalent, I wouldn’t care. Truly. I’d be completely detached, and if I’m detached, I wouldn’t partake… and hell, I’d probably abstain entirely.

if you don't care, then you don't run around an oval in the dark. note: this is what it looked like as I was leaving.
if you don’t care, then you don’t run around an oval in the dark. note: this is what it looked like as I was leaving.

It has been refreshing to go through this cycle so far without this sense of pressure looming over me, pressure that, of course, is only self-inflicted, but I think it has also thrown me for a loop. I get that my running, and my goals, and my training, and my races matter the most to me and not anyone else—and that’s great, and of course, how I want it–yet at the same time, I wonder how my strategic seeming-but-not-really lack of focus will play out for me come race day. This might be a bit premature to begin considering, but I kinda can’t help it right now.

Strangely, it really makes me think of my second Masters program, my MA. I applied to the program at DePaul when I was still working there full-time, pre-baby, and I applied on a whim because a) DePaul would pay nearly 100% (again) for my Masters numero dos, b) I thought it’d be cool to earn another Masters (I had just finished my MS a couple months earlier) kinda for the hell of it and in writing/rhetoric/discourse, stuff I’ve loved for as long as I remember, and c) I’m pretty sure I was bored at work and wrote my entrance essay over my lunch break.

with my gal Traci here. Masters #2 for her, Masters #1 for me.
with my gal Traci here. Masters #2 for her, Masters #1 for me. I love the magicians’ hats. Sadly, I didn’t walk for Masters #2 since… ya know, I had a four-week old at home.

When I applied to my MA program, I felt like I had nothing to lose. If I got in—and I suspected I would—that’d be awesome, and hey, free higher education. You can’t go wrong. If I didn’t get in, well, that’d be ok, too. I’d wonder why, of course, but ultimately I’d figure that there was probably a good reason or two that warranted my rejection.

And would you know? I loved my MA program. LOVED. Unlike in my MS program, this time around, I chose not to specialize because (nerd alert) I loved it all too much. Linguistics, sociolinguistics, technical writing, teaching writing, teaching writing to speakers of other languages, rhetoric in the public sphere, issues of power and politics—I wanted it all and all the time. Throughout the program, and to this day, I get dreamy when talking about pursuing a PhD in the field—kinda like I do when I fantasize about going sub-3 in the marathon or (cough) running an ultra (cough)–but as yet, it hasn’t happened. None of it has.

While I may not have allegedly “cared” initially about my MA program, by the end of it, I was a serious fangirl. In fact, during my final class of my MA program, I wrote an essay about, among other things (more nerd alert), my trajectory as a student, writer, and contingent faculty member in WRD (read: adjunct). Without geekin’ out too hard here, since I’ve already done that, I basically wrote exactly what I said above, that I applied somewhat lackadaisically and that I didn’t care if I got in… and once the program accepted me, hey, that’s cool. NBD.

My instructor, Julie, rightfully called bullshit on me straightaway.

I can’t recall exactly what she said to me, but I’m pretty sure she said something along the lines of:

“I know you too well. You don’t half-ass. You surely cared about getting in and getting an MA more than you realize or, as is more likely the case, care to admit.”

Yea. She was probably right.

Going through my MA program, while working full-time, and, eventually, after having A, was tiring. I sometimes frequently questioned why I was doing it—after all, I already had my MS, and didn’t I not care about getting an MA, anyway?–but I knew that doing the work would help me later. Granted, I didn’t know how it’d help me, I didn’t necessarily know what I’d want to grow up to become with both an MS and an MA (and I knew that I’d be a SAHM for a bit, anyway), but in my heart of hearts, I knew that bailing wasn’t an option.

At the time, I knew that I’d forever regret not going for it—not completing my MA degree, regardless of (insert excuse here)–and that, come hell or high water, even with balancing full-time employment, completing my TESOL certificate and observation hours, and, eventually, figuring out life with a newborn (and, at the time, a planned relocation to CA never transpired that year), I’d figure it out and simply get shit done. People with schedules and life issues and interruptions and challenges far, far more complicated than mine get shit done all the time; my story wasn’t some beautiful and unique snowflake.

There’s a lot of non-running or non-marathoning-related banter in this post, yet I think that there’s a lot of carry-over here, too. I told myself early on that I didn’t “care” about my MA program, about getting in. If I didn’t care, then why would I elect to go through the motions of graduate school (again) while balancing life and a new family? Surely, I told myself—and even tried to convince my faculty (in a final exam essay… [note to self: that was dumb])–that I didn’t “care” because I wanted the stakes to stay low.

If I didn’t “care,” then failing—however that manifested—wouldn’t sting and burn so much.

Similarly, I think—fuck it, I’ll own this, I know—I care more about how I’ll fare at Newport than I’m letting on. If I keep the stakes low about my next marathon, my next goal race, then in the event I don’t perform how I want, I’m still safe… because I didn’t care.

It’s the whole thing about being vulnerable, about putting ourselves and our goals and our unicorns out there, and navigating the very real possibility that we’ll fail in front of all of humanity, all those thousands of people who know our goals and what we’re after.

Failure—however that manifests—burns and sucks and stings, but you know what burns, sucks, and stings worse?

Regret—of not trying and seeing if, in fact, you’ll falter or, surprise!, realize that which you’re after.

Feeling kinda strategically unfocused right now is a bit weird for me only because while I am chompin’ at the bits to successfully execute my plans in a month, it’s like part of me is insisting that I calm TFD about it, while another part remains a bit obsessed.

It’s as though a big part of me is saying care! Think about this! Dream about this! Envision this on every run! while the other fights any mention or reference to it.

Maybe this is a strange defense mechanism, like I’m protecting myself from the fear of failing on this goal again… or maybe I’m trying to be conservative with my goals and capabilities right now. I really don’t know. At any rate, this is like a weird runner purgatory mental space to be kickin’ it in.

things are getting serious. Easter bunny to the rescue.
things are getting serious. Easter bunny to the rescue.

Perhaps I’ve been stupidly audacious in professing my unicorns of choice this year, and while I honestly don’t feel the same amount of self-inflicted pressure a month out from Newport as I did before Oakland or Chicago or NYC, I think I know myself well enough to know that between now and race day, May 31, I’ll do whatever it takes to get shit done so that I can toe the line in the OR coast with Austin (and you! come!) ready to rock and fuckin’ roll.

At the end of the day, if you care—regardless of the stupid little lies or mindgames you play with yourself—then you get shit done.

If you don’t care, then you don’t.

Have you ever felt ‘strategically unfocused’ during training? Was it detrimental or beneficial? When was the last time someone called bullshit on you? 🙂