Motivation Monday: Five Trail Races Between March and May

The whole family got muddy on New Year's Day, me trail running
and Mike and Muffin mountain biking.

Last year I ran around somewhat aimlessly, just trying to recover from injury while still wanting to run the Army Ten Miler. I had no real training plan, other than going to my chiropractor regularly and making sure to do yoga and strength training. After a Did Not Finish at the Blessing ten-mile race in Narragansett in July, I was more determined to pay attention to my injury and caring for it. I also started looking at my diet, too. I absolutely did not have to lose weight and that was not my goal. However, eating a little healthier has not only given me strength for injury recovery and running more, but jeans and t-shirts that were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight started feeling comfortable again.

With injury prevention and running more in mind, I came to the realization that I was bored running on roads. Last spring I'd started seeking out trails to run on a regular basis and began enjoying it more than my road runs. The slower pace seems to suit my aging body without exacerbating injuries. So I started looking at trail races in the area. I found that Virginia has tons of them. After doing a bit of research, I decided to sign up for The North Face Endurance Challenge half-marathon distance at the end of April. Once I signed up for that, Facebook started advertising even more trail races in my feed. They are all so tempting. When I came across the Backyard Burn trail race series, I saw that they had a five-mile option for each of the four races. Three of the races occur before TNFEC so I thought that shorter races would give me the feel for trail racing without taxing my training at all. So I signed up for all four in the series during the early registration discount period. The last one is the weekend after TNFEC. I figure even if I'm still exhausted from the half marathon the weekend before, I can still fast walk it within the time limit and get my series finisher prize.

Weekly and yearly mileage as of
Saturday, January 5

January is my base mileage month. I'm already eating tons of food and taking naps at every chance. I'm setting small goals and taking it day by day. I'm doing a lot of yoga. I'm managing my time and planning and prepping meals as much as I can.

I don't plan on running the Army Ten Miler this year. After three years I'm ready to try something else. There's a fall Backyard Burn series as well. Maybe by then I'll be ready to run all four of them at the ten-mile distance rather than five.

For now, it's one day at a time. Run, eat, sleep, repeat. Work and parent and be a good partner in between those, too.

Motivation Monday -- Blerg. It's Tuesday Again.

Because of the holiday yesterday I thought it was Monday when I started writing this post. I ran early this morning and started writing down the thoughts I had as soon as I got home.

I love reading Runner's World. I've been a subscriber on and off since I was a teenager. Maybe it's because I've been reading it for so long that I find a lot of it tedious now and I have a rather love/hate relationship with it. I like reading the recipes but I always question the necessity of so much flaxseed. I ran just fine in high school and college without ground flaxseed. And most runners who aren't Olympic athletes or world champions will, too. There's often the obligatory "We're cool enough to drink beer or wine" article that always makes me feel like it's only okay to do that because a half marathon was just run, but drinking a drink every day might have negative consequences on performance. (Performance against whom, though?)

What really grinds me gears, though, is the occasional article for beginners about how all you really need is a pair of shoes and the desire to do it.

And after they tell you that all you really need is a pair of shoes and the desire to do it, there are pages and pages of reviews and advertisements for all the gear they just told you you don't really need. A watch. And a tech shirt because "cotton is rotten." And this sports bra and these socks. And a hat. And, forget a water bottle, you need a hydration system, even if you're only going out for a mile or two and it has to have pouches for your gel. It should ideally have a pocket for your iPhone with the perfect playlists for any workout. And this jacket for rain and this one for snow and this one for the two days in spring when it might rain and be chilly and get sunny later. Heaven forbid you be wet or cold or hot or hungry or without music for five or ten minutes.

Running is the simplest sport in the world yet we've somehow made it difficult. We've added materialism to a basic human body movement. I know some people like gadgets and stuff. I know a magazine's main job is to make money through advertising. But I hate that someone looking to give running a try might get overwhelmed and give up because they give a crap about whether or not they have the right gear. You really do just need a good pair of shoes and the desire to do it. Forget all the crap.

Your Basic Motivation Monday Stuff. And Dancing Frappuccinos.

Last Monday, 6:47 a.m.: It's going to be hot today but I feel ready for my eight miles. I can't leave until 9:00, after Muffin gets on the bus, so plenty of time for breakfast and more water.

During the run I struggled with the heat. For most of it I imagined a huge Midnight Mint Mocha Frappuccino dancing on the path in front of me.

It never occurred to me to search for frappuccino gifs before.

Making healthy decisions when I'm well-rested and well-hydrated it easy. Making them when I'm tired and hot is not so I'm very pleased with myself for not pulling out my phone and ordering a frappuccino to be ready when I passed the Starbucks near my home. Instead I made a mint mocha protein shake at home. It wasn't the same, obviously, but it wasn't bad and I know it was better for me.

I didn't get my eight miles, though. I barely got seven and the last mile was mostly walking along shady, tree-lined streets. The temperature rose twelve degrees while I was running. I think losing some of my fitness means I've lost some of my heat acclimatization. Burundi, India, Mali. Summers in Rhode Island, Florida, Washington, D.C. I'm a lover of heat and humidity. It's a lot harder to face it now, though.

This morning I had six miles on my training plan. I had to do a little shuffling around of workouts. Muffin was home sick last Friday when I'd planned on this six-miler. We had a busy weekend but I did manage a short run/walk while she was in karate on Saturday and she and I walked together on Sunday morning. (A walk at her pace does help me get my steps in and encourages me to drink plenty of water but it's hardly a workout for me.) Looking at the week ahead, today and tomorrow are really the only days I have time for significant workouts so I have no choice but to make it work. Six miles today and the climbing gym tomorrow, then whatever else I can squeeze in all the other days.

Despite temperatures falling a bit it was still hot and sunny out there this morning. I did my six miles. I did pull out my phone a quarter mile from home and order an iced latte with soy milk to pick up when I ran by that Starbucks. I came home and drank it with leftover roasted garlic and broccoli quinoa salad.

This morning I tried on a pair of shorts from last summer and they almost fit. They are the gauge I'm using rather than the scale. Maybe all the quinoa and ab workouts are starting to pay off.

This is the last week of school for Muffin. After that my schedule will be all out of whack and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

Expectations vs. Limitations

"You'll never be more than alive
You'll never do more than survive
Until you expect it"
~10,000 Maniacs - Few And Far Between

Yes, I've gotten to the point where I'm quoting favorite songs from my teen years for inspiration. (On that same playlist, "I think about the time, I kicked a boy 'til he cried," The Sundays.)

I've been loosely following a training schedule to get ready for my two ten-mile races. This is the first week where I'm feeling the craziness of trying to fit it all in. Mike's out of town and I have some volunteer commitments at Muffin's school. I can only run during her school hours anyway, which limits me if I have any other plans during the day. A couple hours of writing/working is nice to accomplish regularly. I also need to eat, and feed Muffin, which means I need to make time for grocery shopping and cooking. I'll let the dishes and laundry pile up for days, though. It's not as urgent as the eating and the running.

My weekday runs this week are supposed to be a five miler and an eight miler. Yesterday I planned to run but when I woke up I wasn't feeling it and went to the climbing gym instead. I'm perfectly happy with that decision because I felt great by the end of the day and I woke up ready to run this morning. With my IT band acting up, though, I was hesitant to commit to eight miles. Generally I tell my body, "Run X miles," and my body does it without questioning me. I think that's how I got injured in the first place, however, so I need to rethink that strategy.

Part of me really wanted to get the eight miles over with because this morning was the only time I have until next Monday to fit in a long run. The me of two or three years ago would have said, "Fuck it! Run the eight miles and care not about the tiredness and injuries. You'll bounce back!" But the me of right now really doesn't want to be in pain if it can be avoided.

I chose a route that put me at Metro stations at mile five and mile eight so I could gauge how I felt along the way and decided when to bag it and head home. I kind of knew I was only going to run five miles but I didn't want to rule out eight until I'd honestly assessed how my IT band felt.

Things felt not great. Despite rolling and stretching, my quad was tight and there was some tenderness in my calf. Between miles three and four I had a running dialogue in my head between younger me and current me about stopping at five miles or not. Older, wiser, lamer, safer current me won. I detoured off the path and around a small park before arriving at a Metro station at 5.1 miles. It was absolutely the right choice. By the time I'd gone through the turnstile and gotten onto the train platform, my left calf had seized up in what I assume is anger at having taken it out running. 

Four days of walking and yoga should prepare me for a longer run on Monday. I've trained for enough races to know that I still have plenty of time to get those eight- and ten-mile runs in before the first race at the end of July. I'm still trying to figure out my new limitations before I can tell my body what I expect from it.

Glutened!

I've been gluten-free due to celiac disease since 2003. For the most part I've been awesome about managing it and the gluten-free market has improved so significantly since then that I sometimes just stop in the grocery store, staring in disbelief at all the choices that didn't exist ten years ago. I've lived in and traveled through several countries without major incidents. I don't get to eat every delicious food that crosses my path. I give up a lot of treats just because I can't be certain. I always remind myself that my health is worth more than that one amazing dessert.

I had gluten once in Bamako, in July 2014, within days of my arrival. I knew what I'd done; I recognized the pattern of my gastrointestinal distress as what happens when I eat gluten. As a precaution I went to the doctor to rule out parasites and food poisoning because I was in a new country with different food safety practices and germs I hadn't been exposed to before. They treated me for dehydration. I lost several pounds. It was a shaky start to my time in a new country but I recovered.

The culprit of the gluten was unexpected but quickly determined. Beef brochettes at a pizza place. There was so much flour being tossed around the kitchen with abandon that it covered every food inadvertently. And thus the psychological aspect of celiac disease set in. In a place where I already felt isolated by being an outsider, I couldn't frequent one of the most popular expat restaurants with my friends. One time I tried drinking a glass of wine while my friends ate but it was hard to smell the pizza and the grilling meat and watch everyone else enjoy it while I couldn't even eat the inherently gluten-free dishes.

For almost three years, all over France, Mali, Austria, Kenya, and the United States, I avoided gluten until a few weeks ago. There are two pizza places in our neighborhood and they both do a decent gluten-free pizza. I still prefer the one I make at home but sometimes I want to have pizza in a restaurant with my friends and family so I've come to rely on these two restaurants. I ordered my usual gluten-free pizza for pickup to take to a friend's house for dinner.

The pizza in question.

 By the time we sat down to eat I was so hungry that I ate two slices before I realized it was too delicious to be a gluten-free pizza. I'm not going to lie. After the initial horror of discovering it I was tempted to eat more since I was going to get sick already. But I didn't. I did finish off Mike's beer, since I hadn't had real beer, other than an occasional tiny sip, in so long.

Then I anxiously awaited the pain in the lower left side of my abdomen that usually signifies gluten poisoning. I barely slept that night, wondering if it was the gluten causing my sleeplessness or the nerves of waiting for the symptoms that caused it. By the next morning my stomach was still fine and I began to question everything that had happened. It wasn't a relief to not be sick. It was more nerve wracking than usual, knowing that I'd eaten gluten but my symptoms weren't manifesting in their usual way.

By about noon I realized what was going on. Inflammation. I'd never had it before but I knew it was a common symptom for many people. Full body ache. Exhaustion. Skin so sensitive I recoiled when Muffin tried to hold my hand. My plan had been to bring my pizza leftovers back to the restaurant to find out what happened with my order. By the time Mike got home from work I could barely get off the couch without great discomfort so he took them back for me, explaining to the manager that I was too sick to go myself.

To the manager's credit, according to Mike he was horrified. My receipt said "gluten-free" on it and my crust was clearly not their gluten-free crust. He looked up the name of the person who prepared my order so he could yell at him. He refunded us for the pizza and gave Mike a gift card for fifty dollars. He told Mike he wanted the chance to make it up to me personally, once my appetite for pizza from their restaurant returned. Two days later the manager called me to see how I was doing.

I was much better, gluten-wise, by the time he called, but the gluten weakened my immune system enough that the horrible cold Muffin had had, that I'd thought I'd successfully fended off, moved on in. I was still on the couch, although from a chest cold and sinus infection rather than inflammation.

And the thing is, unlike when I have the gastrointestinal problems from gluten, I never lost my appetite, even for pizza. Again the psychological games spring up, having to rebuild my trust with that restaurant. But a week later I was at the other restaurant enjoying a pizza while the waiter talked about how they recently changed to a new gluten-free crust that customers said was tastier than the old one. (It was pretty good, as far as gluten-free crusts go.)

Mainly I'm angry because it was one more setback after a winter and spring of injuries and illness. One more week that I couldn't run as much as I wanted to. A few more days that I couldn't do any kind of workout. It was while I was sick on the couch that I signed up for the two ten-mile races for later this year. I'm tired of being sick and injured and I really want to stay on track.

Time for Some Changes

I got caught in the rain this morning.

Dang! I completely forgot about the movie challenge. I'll pick it back up soon. I still have a lot of great movies to talk about.

I've been jotting down a lot of notes and random sentences and paragraphs the last few weeks. They are not going to become one very long blog post but I think it's time to start developing them into something I can share.

Last week I signed up for two ten-mile races, one in July and one in October. I haven't raced any distance since the Marine Corps Marathon last October. My longest run since then has been about seven miles and that was back in March when I thought I was going to run a half marathon in April. I knew I wasn't ready for it, though, between the injury and some other health issues that cropped up so I backed off running and started doing some serious thinking about my health and my habits.

I'm recovering from an injury that came up during marathon training, disappeared with ice, stretching, and rest, and then hit me like a sack of bricks during the race. At this point I feel like I will probably be managing it for the rest of my life, but at least I can manage it with stretching and strength training and cross training. It's my IT band across my left hip and sometimes in my left calf. If I sleep wrong, I wake up in the middle of the night with pain in my hip and I have to figure out how to fall back to sleep and rearrange my workout routine for the next day.

Since I turned forty a little over a year ago I feel like I've been in a constant battle with my body. One friend put it this way: At forty plus one day, all your warranties start expiring. I know my body isn't the same as it was in my twenties and my thirties and there's only so much I have control over of my forty-year-old body. I'm not thrilled with my body right now. Summer clothes from last year don't fit and it's not because I got so muscular from marathon training. It's because I've eaten too much macaroni and cheese.

I'm trying to come to terms with the difference between accepting my body and accepting the changes that I have to make in order to maintain a body that I want. I need more quality rest. I need more water and less sugar. I need more stretching. I need to make the time to be cognizant of the little changes I need to make regularly in order to fit back into those favorite shorts and skirts from last summer. I'm pretty sure that eating less junk food and exercising more is going to be cheaper than buying new clothes.

I'm not on a diet, other than the gluten-free one that I have to be on. I am being more aware of the calories I choose to put into my mouth, although I've decided that some of those calories are going to be chocolate and wine. I've got a ten-mile race training plan that involves a lot of cross training in order to take the pressure off my injury-prone areas while still building strength and endurance. I'm making my family eat more vegetables, since I'm the one who does most of the grocery shopping, meal planning, and cooking, and I'm not inclined to make different snacks and meals for every family member. If I'm putting this much effort into our food, it's going to be good for all of us.

One of the things that has held me back from wanting to make some changes is struggling with how my child might perceive these changes. She's six. I don't want her to know that I'm unhappy with my body right now. I want her to see exercise as a fun activity that sometimes we do as a family and sometimes Mommy and Daddy do as individuals, and that eating healthy gives us the energy for everything we do, whether it's swimming with friends or going to work or school.

This is hard. 

Quiet Support

After a chat with Muffin about the very few times it's
appropriate to write in a book, I found this heart penciled
in the margin of my Murakami paperback.

It’s Monday morning. I’ve run. I’ve had my smoothie (greenish). I'm sitting down at my laptop to write.

I’m not here to be your cheerleader and tell you how amazing I feel. I don’t care if you drink smoothies or not. I happen to like them and adding a few leaves of spinach isn’t too bad. The truth is, my motivation is personal and yours is, too.

I started reading Haruki Murakami’s memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, this week. I pretty much want to underline every sentence, there’s so much of it that I relate to. If you really need motivation for this morning, go read this book. (I’ll be writing a more formal review of it once I’m finished.) “Writing novels and running full marathons are very much alike. Basically a writer has a quiet, inner motivation, and doesn’t seek validation in the outwardly visible.”

This is why I keep my daily mileage on Strava, where everyone who’s there is because they are interested in that, rather than Facebook. This is why I don’t post my daily word counts to Twitter and rarely use the #amwriting tag. (If I really am writing, I’m not on Twitter.) I support my followers and those whom I follow in their running and writing endeavors. I know several people training for races and working on writing projects this year and I’ve got your backs. I do pay attention to what you're up to.

I’ve been drinking my smoothie every day for a week but I’ve forgotten to do my plank most days. I've done all the running I've needed to do. I've written some days and some days I haven't. The world has continued to turn despite my not following a plan and not documenting every moment of it for public consumption.

I'm only accountable to myself.

(I stared at this post for hours once I finished writing it without a title idea.)

Run

I’m a week away from the Mystic Half Marathon. About a month ago I felt unprepared. I feel better now, stronger, prepared. The second half of this race is hilly. Very hilly. I love hills. Last week some friends took me to Mystic and we ran the first eight miles of the course. We encountered a few big hills. The biggest is at mile 9 1/2. I’m not afraid of the hill itself. I’m afraid of how much it will slow me down. I’ll get it done, no matter what.

I’m apprehensive about a goal time, however. If I can match my PR from the previous race I’ll be thrilled but I’m willing to accept the fact that I’ll likely be several minutes slower, due to those hills.

People talk about mantras to focus on to help them recenter and relax. I have one word. Run. No inspirational quote, no favorite song. Just the one thing I went out there to do. Sometimes I do it quickly and sometimes I don’t, but it’s what I do.

I know I’ll finish. And I know I’ll be going to the barbeque place for lunch after the race. Those are the finites in my life right now. Those, and I will run.

I'm the Mom Who Doesn't Care for Mother's Day

Over the weekend I had a huge blow-up with Muffin. I still feel terrible about it but I'm going to stand my ground. She wants to throw a big party for me on Mother's Day. I want a quiet day with several hours of alone time. She doesn't think that's special enough. I tried explaining to her that I'm not a huge fan of Mother's Day to begin with and that I'm going to insist on my quiet time. For a little girl who loves party planning, this is a big problem for her. But it's Mother's Day. I'm the mom. I get to choose.

On the radio yesterday morning the DJs were discussing a poll that said seventy percent of mothers just want to be left alone for several hours on Mother's Day. So if you know a mother who says that's really all she wants, please let her have it. Going to Mother's Day brunch in a crowded restaurant is one of my personal circles of Hell and I suspect that might be true for many women.

Even now that I'm a mom, I don't care for Mother's Day. There's no genetic code that made me love brunch and pastels the moment I gave birth. To me it's another commercial cards-and-flowers day and it holds little interest for me. (If you really like flowers, that's totally fine! I love flowers and I hope my florist friend does good business this weekend because of all the others who love flowers, too. But only get someone flowers if you mean it and they love them, not as an afterthought because it's just what people do.)

I read too many blog posts from moms whose children made them breakfast in bed and left her a messy kitchen to clean up. And the moms shrug and say, "Oh, well. I'm the mom and it's my job to clean up after them, even on Mother's Day."

No. Otherwise what's the point of the day?

If you have a mother, ask her what she really wants for Mother's Day. If you are a mother: Be. Honest. You will be subjected to endless noisy brunches or messy kitchens coupled with good intentions unless you are honest and tell your children and whoever else is helping them plan the day what you really want to do. If you don't want to wash dishes on Mother's Day because you do it every single other day and it's your least favorite chore, take a stand and tell someone. Otherwise, accept the fact that it will be like every other day and don't get miffed. Commercials build up expectations that can never be met. I like to keep the bar low.

My ideal Mother's Day would be Mike and Muffin going off for a nice adventure on their own for a few hours and bringing home amazing cupcakes for us to share. However, that's pretty much my ideal Sunday year round. And with Mike coming home this weekend for good, I should be able to realize that dream for several upcoming Sundays.

Mothers, I hope you get what you want this Sunday, whatever it is. I'm so happy that my family is safe and sound and will be back together again, it's really all I need.

Another Obnoxious Run Happy Post

One day toward the end of March I went for a run.

I’d been taking it easy since getting a nice personal record at a half marathon a few weeks beforehand. My daughter was home from school on spring break and my husband was home for a week, too, so it made sense to relax and not worry about running as much. Toward the end of that break, though, I began to get a little anxious. At the time, my next half marathon was about six weeks away and I needed to up the training a little bit.

So I went for a run. All the kinks I’d hoped to work out after the first mile were not worked out. I stopped and went home. That’s right. After one mile. I’m not run streaking right now. I just wasn’t having fun and didn’t see the point. Instead of having a bad run that would put me in a bad mood I decided put the time toward something else that would make me feel good.

The next day after a chat with a friend who’s in a similar place with his running as I am, I decided to try again. Talking to him made me see it was time to get a tad more serious for the race. I aimed for five miles. After a few minutes the kinks and aches were gone but my legs felt unusually tired. I stopped and checked my GPS. I’d only gone two miles. But I’d done them quickly. The weather was so nice I decided to keep going toward the five-mile goal but slow down. I returned to my house at 4.9 miles and ran up the street further until I reached an even five. Normally I wouldn’t care about getting an even number but my goal that day was five and I had it in me to accomplish that.

These are actual decals on my car.

For me, upping my training for running a marathon means vaguely paying more attention to my mileage. After a long run I’ll look at my splits and see how I’m doing compared to my previous long run or goal time for a race. My friend likes math more than I do so I ask him what my splits should be for certain times at certain distances. I don’t do speed work. While I often stop to check my mileage while running, I rarely look at my time. I trust my body and I do what feels good.

I recently saw a headline about running happy to run faster. I didn’t read the article because I didn’t have time at that moment to read about something I already practiced. When I remembered it the next day I couldn’t find it.

Running seems to have been taken over by Type A personalities who track every mile, every calorie, every step, every bite. I used to follow a lot of blogs and social media accounts of runners. I tried to do all that counting and accounting in the past. But it’s not me. And I can’t help but feel there might be other runners like me who start to feel bad because they aren’t documenting every step, aren’t caring about every new piece of gear, aren’t enjoying kale and protein powder smoothies. (Chocolate-flavored protein powder is not a treat. Chocolate is.)

Magazine articles and other media outlets tell me I have to do these things to be a better runner. Why do I need to do these things? Why do I even need to be a better runner? What if I don’t want to be? What if I’m happy right where I am? What does it even mean to be “better”? I’m healthy and enjoying myself. That’s enough for me.

The point is, run your own self. Don’t worry about what anyone else is doing. If you want the cute running outfits, go for it. But if you’re happy in sweatpants and a cotton t-shirt, go for that. I use Strava on my phone. I can’t be bothered with a GPS watch on top of that. Too much stuff to keep charged and I’m taking the phone with my anyway for emergencies and for taking photos. Oh, that’s right. Stop and take photos if you want to. Or don’t. I like the simplicity of a quick snapshot of the scenery or something interesting spotted over setting up a shot and posing.

Marathon training has to make me happy. It will be challenging. There will be pain. There may even be an inspirational quote or two along the way. But I don’t plan on changing any more of my habits than are absolutely necessary.

Except for a Fitbit. I’m very curious about Fitbits and I’m thinking of getting one.

The Importance of Apple Pie in Running

Recently Facebook reminded me that about two years ago my friend Running While Mommy shared this article with me, The REAL Best Foods for Runners, with the note that number eight reminded her of me. Apple pie. I'd had apple pie for breakfast one morning before we ran a ten miler together. And I was just fine. I ran the miles at a decent pace and I didn't get sick.

I thought of saying here, “I wouldn’t recommend this breakfast for every long run,” but I won’t. It’s none of my business if you eat apple pie for breakfast. You (hopefully) know your body better than I do.

I love reading about sports nutrition. I devour cookbooks, articles, research. But I can’t bring myself to follow all the advice, all the meal plans, all the tips about how to increase kale in my diet. I’ve tried that. I’ve monitored, written down, and analyzed every bite. I’ve counted my servings, measuring them on a kitchen scale. I’ve kept food journals.

It’s frickin’ exhausting. It takes the fun out of eating. And it takes up time I'd rather spend sleeping.

I’m forty and I’ve been running since I was fifteen. I’ve learned what works for me and what doesn’t. I’m willing to try new things but I love my old habits. I know that after a run of ten miles or longer, my favorite enchilada platter and a margarita will be waiting for me at the neighborhood Mexican restaurant. I stick with my old-school lemon-lime Gatorade for exceptionally long runs in warm weather. I'll take real chocolate milk, thank you very much, rather than a shake with chocolate-flavored protein powder.

My attention turns to food now for two reasons. One, I've put on a few pounds from winter comfort food and while I am in no way dieting, I am cutting back on my portions of chocolate and potato chips. But, two, as I've announced on Twitter and Facebook already, I'll be running my first marathon this this fall and it will take a lot of food and miles to get me to the starting line.

I entered the lottery for the Marine Corps Marathon and I got in. So you can expect more running posts from me here as my training gets underway. You all know I don't count calories and blog every bite. You know I don't track every mile, every mile split, publicly on this blog, and I won't start now. But I will increase the number of my posts about running as I get into training and need a platform to hold myself accountable.

I started planning to run this marathon last October when I was reading about other friends and acquaintances running it. I already knew we'd be coming back to the United States in 2016 so I made it my goal to run it as a "Welcome Home" event. Sure, I came home several months sooner than planned, but this is still my year of being back home. I'm excited for the race.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a huge ball of fresh mozzarella in the fridge with my name on it. And I need to make an apple pie for this week's long run.

"Sweaty, Gross, and Super Hungry"

That's what I said to Mike one morning when he leaned in for a hug and a kiss before he left for work. I was in the midst of my run streak and had just returned from the great outdoors. It was the peak of Malian summer, sometime in April or May. Every morning I was sweaty, gross, and super hungry. Mike laughed that morning and suggested it as the title of my memoir when I eventually wrote about the run streak.

I started on Thanksgiving last year and ran at least one mile every day for 199 days, ending in mid-June. I ran in Mali -- in Bamako and Segou. I ran in Paris. I ran in Salzburg. I ran on the pedestrian path between the hotels and the airport in Munich. (Or was it Frankfurt? I don't remember now where our twenty-four hour layover was.) I ran in West Palm Beach and South Beach. I ran along Ocean Road in Narragansett. I ran by myself most days but with sometimes with Mike or other friends.

I ran on treadmills sometimes. I'd brought one with us to Mali to get me through running during the worst weather here -- the dust storms of winter followed shortly by the intense heat of summer. The treadmill shorted out the electricity in the entire downstairs of the house every time I plugged it in, and by the time someone was able to fix that problem, I'd already run through the worst weather outdoors. The dust storm days when my lungs hurt after ten minutes outside. Long runs in the May heat that I broke up by running two miles to the gym, running on the treadmill under a full-blast air conditioner, and running two miles home.

I learned that I can run one mile under almost any conditions. Bad weather, minor injuries, mild fevers, after too much cider and chèvre-stuffed galette for lunch at a Breton café in Paris. I learned that eventually one mile wasn't enough unless I was extremely tired or pressed for time and most days I was going out for at least two.

I was always hungry. Even the low-mileage days left me ravenous and I ate like crazy. Yet, I started to fit into clothes that hadn't fit me in a few months (a few years, even, after my winter hibernation in Rhode Island).

Until one injury stopped me. We were back in the U.S. I was eating like crazy because so many foods were available that we don't have in Mali. I was running every day but pain was causing me to slow down and limit myself to less than two miles. I could have run slowly through the injury, limiting myself to one ten-minute mile each day. But I'd planned to run a half marathon with some friends, friends who I hadn't seen since we'd run a half marathon together the previous year. I ended the streak so I could get some real rest. A week later I ran with my friends and came within ten minutes of my half marathon PR, which I was thrilled with considering the horrible two-hour nonstop downpour we ran through combined with still nursing the injury.

I belonged to a handful of run streak groups online. Some people congratulated me on knowing when to end the streak and concentrate on having fun with my friends instead. Others sniffed at my decision, saying they would have chosen to keep the streak alive and forego the half marathon. Whatever. I made the right choice for me at the time. (And the people who supported my decision are people I'm still in touch with regularly even though I'm not streaking any more.)

Even though I kept running regularly, I did not go back to streaking. Yet I was still in the U.S. eating as if I were still streaking and training for a half marathon. By the end of our vacation, some of those favorite clothes no longer fit.

Several months later, some of those clothes still don't fit and I know that all I have to do is commit to running one mile every day again if I want them to. Without even really thinking about it I recently found myself running every day for several days in a row -- a week, maybe 8 or 9 days, I didn't really pay attention. I felt healthy and strong again. I also felt like there's not enough food in Mali to keep me fed through another streak and we don't have plans to get to Europe or the U.S. any time soon.

But aside from the health, strength, and fitting into of favorite clothes, I also found I was extremely productive when I started every morning with a run, regardless of it being ten minutes or ten miles. I wrote my novel during those run streak days along with a number of other projects. (I'm thinking I should try to write off Strava Premium on my taxes because of my productivity during the streak.)

I'm going to take it one day at a time. I ran yesterday. I ran today. I'll probably run tomorrow but I'll make that decision in the morning.

Seven Sentences

A few weeks ago I was tagged for the 7-7-7 challenge by @LMBryski on Twitter. I posted my response on Goodreads because I was still going back and forth on if I was going to breathe life back into this blog or start a new one.

You go to the seventh page of your work in progress, count the top seven sentences, and then publish the next seven. I decided to go through a new manuscript I'm currently writing rather Mountains Never Meet so as not to repeat lines I've already shared.

This is completely first-draft unedited writing. It's not likely to stay on the seventh page and it might not even stay in the finished manuscript. At least not all seven sentences.

Sara rummaged through the kitchen for things to roast with the chicken. She’d been too hot and tired to haggle at the vegetable market earlier in the week so hadn’t bought much and their stores of fresh fruits and vegetables were getting low. Carrots that were a bit too soft to be in a salad or cut into sticks were still good enough for roasting. And some oranges that were a bit too dry, so no one was eating them, would be good roasted with a chicken, too. An apple that was a little soft. There were two small onions left. She grabbed all the random fruits and vegetables that were not good enough to eat as they were.

Working titles I've been toying with include The Trailing Spouse and Honeypot. I'd like to leave out all other background information and references to the rest of the story for now but if you want to know more, please feel free to ask.

It Really Is That Simple -- Just Go Run

From Runner Girl.

I had a couple good runs last week but on Saturday morning I didn't get up and out early, like I'd thought about doing. I made coffee. I tried uploading some photos (after twenty-four hours, they finally loaded!). I watched Muffin watch cartoons. Then as I was scrolling through my Facebook feed I came across this image on Runner Girl. I put on my shoes and went for a run. Mike and Muffin were riding bikes. It was cloudy, so not too hot, but the kind of cloudy that doesn't reveal what's happening next. Within an hour it was either going to be clear and too sunny to be outside or there was going to be torrential downpour and thus too dangerous (street flooding) to be outside. It turned out to be torrential downpour. It's a good thing we all got our outdoor activities in when we did.

I ran. My road isn't quite as scenic.

I ran three miles, picking my away along the road. Even with the trail conditions and stopping for traffic at busy intersections, I'm averaging about ten-minute miles, so I'm happy with my overall pace. I'm still getting confused  -- wait a minute, didn't I approach that statue from the other direction last time I ran? -- but recognizing enough landmarks to get me around.

Last week we made one of the best food investments ever. We bought a tortilla press. We've made fresh corn tortillas three times in the last week and I don't think we'll ever go back to store-bought, even once we're back in the States and can buy them easily. We don't have it down quite perfectly yet and I'll probably never be as good as an abuella. They are darn tasty, though, and with a big pot of beans plus the last of the seasonal mangos and avocados, soft tacos have been a great treat.

Happy running and eating this week!

This Is Peanut Butter Country

Peanuts are a staple food in West Africa, where they are called groundnuts. Many regions have a groundnut stew to serve up with vegetables and a starch. Here in Bamako the local peanut butter, or pate d'arachide, is sold in buckets in the supermarkets. It's used for making a gravy for meats. In our house it's been made into banana bread and banana muffins, peanut butter cookies (which our housekeeper loved!), and peanut sauce for veggies and tofu.

Cashews are inexpensive here, unlike most of the rest of the world. They are a popular crop in West Africa because the climate is good for growing them and worldwide demand makes them profitable.  Their tasty availability has me anxiously awaiting the arrival of my food processor for cashew cream "cheese," cashew butter, and cashew milk.

I went for my first run in Bamako on Sunday, a short run to familiarize myself with our neighborhood. Right now is the perfect time of year for running outside -- relatively cool and cloudy. Early in the morning there were few cars on the road; on Sunday mornings traffic doesn't pick up until about 10:30. A few children said, "Bonjour!" and one man said, "Courage!" when I ran by, which is what Burundians sometimes yell to runners, also. I feel like I can get a lot of good miles in this town over the next couple years. I'm glad I brought trail runners, even for running on the road. Main roads are paved but the sidewalk, when there is one, is a dirt path that's often covered in rocks and debris. Looking at the photo, I can't remember now if that's a hard-packed dirt road or a paved road that has a layer of dirt on top of it. The red dirt coats everything.

Muffin goes back to school in one week which means I go back to regular running. (I am invoking all the patience and endurance I have learned through yoga and long-distance running to make it through this last week.) And that means we need a lot of food in the freezer for quick meals and snacks. We spent the weekend baking muffins and cookies. We tried our new tortilla press for the first time. We got Indian take-out for the third time in three weeks, just to test it one more time and make sure the leftovers are still delicious. This week will be a busy one for making tortillas, buckwheat crepes, Chebe bread, and more muffins, all for the freezer, and finding the best loaf of local bread for Muffin's peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to hold her over until my bread maker arrives. The shipment with my blender will hopefully arrive this week and I plan on sending my housekeeper out in search of the last mangoes of the season for the freezer, for mango smoothies. Our other food project this week is to seek out the good meat supplier and place an order. We haven't been thrilled with the meat we've been getting from butchers and super-marchés so far.

Happy running and eating this week!

Seeking Out Running Opportunities

Sunday morning we decided to stop at a cafe for breakfast before doing a little grocery shopping. Since I can't eat gluten and I don't like eggs, breakfast is one of the hardest meals of the day for me to eat out in Africa but most of the time I can get some fruit and yogurt, and if I'm lucky, a little bacon. This restaurant was out of fruit plate, however (despite a bustling fruit market just down the block), and bacon. As I drank my surprisingly good coffee and munched on half a stale Lara bar I'd had in my purse while watching Muffin eat waffles and Mike eat pancakes, I felt discouraged. 

Then the channel on the television changed from a nature show about whale pregnancies to a marathon and waitstaff who hadn't been interested in serving us materialized to watch. I got up to watch, too. I didn't know until later that it was the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow. I couldn't hear most of the French commentary and there were no graphics on the screen informing me of anything other than distance and time. It didn't really matter, though. I watched and I felt happy. 

We visited the Parc National du Mali on Saturday for a short hike. There's a fitness trail with some crazy 1970s-like workout equipment, but it looks fairly new. I hopped onto a few machines and felt like I was in a Jack Lalane video, or the Ben Stiller Daniel Day Lewis treadmill sketch from Saturday Night Live. Muffin had a blast trying out all the equipment. I envision myself jumping into the car as soon as she gets on the school bus in the mornings to get to the parc early to run the trail up the mountain before the heat of the day sets in. I caught site of a track from our hike up the mountain, too. 

Mike thinks our neighborhood is fine for me to run in, I just need him to take me out a couple more times so I get the lay of the place. We have a treadmill coming in our household shipment. There's a gym at Mike's office. I can run laps around the field while the rest of the expat community plays ultimate frisbee on Sunday nights. There's a hash club here. There are ways to run. 

I didn't plan my gluten-free foods in advance of arrival in Bamako as well as I should have, so I'm hesitant to try too much running or working out quite yet. I'm making strides with grocery shopping and our housekeeper but everyday living and figuring things out in a new place is still taking up a lot of time and energy. One of the cookbooks I mailed to myself arrived last week, one that I'd already jotted down French translations for our housekeeper in Burundi, so I was able to ask our Malian housekeeper for the right ingredients without consulting the dictionary again. I hope some of my gluten-free mixes arrive this week so I can have crepes and make quick breads. I stocked up on local peanuts, popcorn, and honey to try making some kind of peanut-popcorn snack this week. The local yogurt is good and our housekeeper has a fresh, pasteurized milk source. Yesterday I found a good avocado at the fruit stand, which I overpaid for, but my housekeeper says it hasn't been good weather for them this year, so everyone is overpaying for the good ones. We are eating mangos like they're going out of style, because they might be soon. The rainy season has been unusual and we are eating produce while it's available.

Today is a "surprise" holiday -- you never know until the last minute which day will be the holiday for Eid al-Fitr, the end of Ramadan. Mike has the day off so we are contemplating getting outside for a bit, exploring a new place. I have enough bottled water and peanut packs for a day hike.

The Dull Roar of a Million Peep Toads

Is what I’m listening to right now. We had a night of heavy rain and around five o’clock this morning when I got up to use the bathroom I could hear them as I passed by the window. By the time I got up later for breakfast, they were so loud we could hear them in the living room above the sound of the air conditioner. If there weren’t so many mosquitoes right now we’d be outside poking around mud puddles looking for toads and tadpoles.

But we have to be extra careful of mosquitoes right now. Africa has thrown a few challenges at us in our first week here.

First thing Monday morning Muffin and I took our anti-malaria pills. We call it Malaria Monday and take the pills with breakfast. Later that day I found out that the pills the travel clinic in Rhode Island gave us are no good here. The local malaria strain is resistant to chloroquine so we have to get on mefloquine ASAP. Unfortunately we can’t overlap the two, so we have to wait a couple more days before we can start the mefloquine, which means we are on high alert for avoiding mosquito bites. We have Deet and bed nets so we’re doing the best we can. As tempting as it is to go outside in the relative coolness after the rain, I think we need to stay away from the bugs.

I was hit with some kind of stomach thing on Tuesday. On Wednesday I felt bad enough to see the nurse at Mike’s office. I wasn’t quite sick enough for her to think I had an infection and she didn’t think I’d been here long enough for a parasite to gestate so the best she could do was treat me for dehydration, which was definitely one of my symptoms and certainly something that could lead to the other symptoms I was suffering from. For twenty-four hours I drank a horrible-tasting rehydration solution, but it seems to have done the trick. I’m not 100%, but I feel much better today than I have any other day this week. The five pounds I gained during my winter hibernation have vanished.

I’ve had some ups and downs with the housekeeper. Mostly, she’s very good and is trying hard to be helpful, but due to the language barrier and my not feeling well it’s been difficult to give her accurate instructions. I did some successful grocery shopping yesterday and tutored her in soaking dried beans and making a vegetable soup that I found appetizing, so the good meal has improved my spirits as much as anything could. To be fair, she probably knew how to make this soup already, but my French wasn’t good enough to instruct her in what I wanted, so I needed to show her exactly which vegetables, herbs, and spices to put in. I did not find the Chinese market yesterday, which is rumored to have tofu, but I think I pinpointed the neighborhood it’s in so I should be able to find it next time.

I don’t know how much coverage the airline crash in Mali is receiving in the rest of the world (because due to all the rain, the satellite isn’t working so we have no generic international or American news, only what I choose to read online). I’m glad we flew last week, though, instead of this week. The flight between Paris and Bamako was turbulent enough without landing during the thunderstorms we’re having now.

I’ll end with a few photos from the week. You can follow my photos on Instagram: http://instagram.com/stephaniesdiamond

The fire finches like to hang out in our windows.

Storm clouds on Thursday afternoon.

The view from our balcony.
There's no filter on this; it really does look like the 1970s here.

Feeding our eight parrots.

Dateline Bamako

Muffin and I have arrived in Bamako, Mali, finally reuniting with Mike. He’s been here since April. He came home for a couple weeks in June, then returned, while we stayed back to do the pack-out and enjoy a little bit of Rhode Island summer vacation. We left Rhode Island last Thursday and about twenty-four hours later we landed in Bamako, tired and a little crabby but thrilled to be together as a family again.

Muffin is still adjusting, but she’s doing well. This time of year the time difference with the East Coast is only four hours and we’ve been able to manage our time well so far. I expect both of us to crash and burn any day now, though, as the excitement of travel wears off and the reality if living here sinks in, probably shortly after Mike leaves for work tomorrow and I’m faced with a full day on my own with Muffin. I feel pretty comfortable there, though, more so than I did in India. And after living in Burundi, Mali isn’t nearly as shocking. My French comprehension kicked in as soon as we got off the plane in Paris and I’ve understood just about everything that’s been said to me. I’ve even made a handful of successful transactions in stores and restaurants. We’ve walked around the neighborhood and I can find the homes of some other Americans with children about Muffin’s age, plus a snack shop and a pharmacy.

This is Africa, where the tonic water glows blue in the light of the bug zapper and the best meal at most restaurants is a brouchette with fries and a Fanta. I feel at home.

Are You Up for Holiday Bootie Buster Challenge 2013?

For the third year in a row I'm participating in the Holiday Bootie Buster Challenge at Run to the Finish. This year is going to be tough. Last year I contended with a combination of Indian and American holidays between October and January. This year I'm back in the United States after five holiday seasons overseas and I fully intend to indulge in all the treats I've missed. I signed up early, before Halloween, to get me thinking about staying on track through the eating extravaganza. It's cold here and I'll need the motivation for getting outside for a run. Also it will be too easy to eat comfort food on cold winter nights. Adding veggies to those foods will help keep me healthy.

I've already started preparing. I've unpacked and/or replaced all the parts of my blender for smoothies and purées. I'm freezing a lot of foods for healthy convenience dinners on those nights when I'm too tired or when it's been more important to be outside playing with Muffin rather than inside chopping veggies. I started freezing summertime blueberries and tomatoes months ago. I'm making double batches of snacks and meals when I have the time so I can put the extra in the freezer. When I made lasagna last week I made two and put one in the freezer. I used a mixture of half ricotta cheese and half tofu. To jazz up jarred tomato sauce and sneak in extra veggies, I sautéed red peppers and garlic to mix into the sauce and on top of the middle sauce layer I added a layer of sliced tomatoes. 

Mike leaves today for Washington, D.C., before heading overseas and we don't know when we'll see him again. It could be this weekend. It could be Thanksgiving. It could be in January or February. It's going to be stressful and I'd be prone to hibernating if I didn't have to take Muffin to school every day. But, since she is in school, I have several hours a day to myself and I plan on making the most of them. I want to stay happy and healthy so I can care for Muffin and take care of myself.

The Challenge is more fun with friends! If you decide to join please refer to my blog or to my Twitter handle, @StephanieSD. Then tell your friends about the Challenge, too! I'm not in training for anything. I don't plan on running a marathon ever; I'm quite happy with the half marathon. But the Challenge is fun. There's an online community of support. You earn points for any amount of working out and bonus points for other activities such as cleaning the house or playing outside. You also earn points for eating enough fruits and veggies. I wasn't expecting to win anything last year but I ended up winning a nice Asics long-sleeved zip-up shirt that I've already worn several times over the last few days of chilly weather. So, just by putting forth a little effort, you could win a fabulous prize, too!

The Challenge starts on November 17, so get a move on!

How to R2-D2

This year for Halloween we had a three year old who wanted to be R2-D2, accompanied by a Princess Leia mommy and a Han Solo daddy. Leia and Han seemed easy. Buy, borrow, or steal appropriate clothing and get a fairly popular wig. R2 was going to be more of a challenge because I wanted something more charming than store bought. I searched Google Images and pinned to Pinterest. I came up with a plan:

We spent an afternoon at a craft store trying to find just the right materials: foam, felt, glue, and something to craft the headpiece from. For the headpiece we ended up with a plastic army helmet glued to the inside of a salad bowl, both from a dollar store.

We crafted.

I bought a full Princess Leia costume, complete with hair-buns wig and ended up hating everything about it. So I Freecycled it and started from scratch, changing my concept to Hoth Leia. White yoga pants on sale for $5 and a beautiful white vest and snow boots that I'll wear this winter anyway paired with a long-hair wig that my mom helped braid. Han had to buy a henley shirt and black vest, supplying his own pants and boots. We bought $5 blasters and decided to keep them fake looking by not painting them black.

Star Wars family complete!

This was Muffin's first Halloween in the United States so we had to go the extra mile for her. Although, she's only three so the extra mile didn't have to be too far. We drove to a nearby neighborhood where a friend of ours was having a small party. We trick-or-treated at about five houses then went to our friend's for pizza and "grown-up" treats. Muffin ate too much candy but she didn't have school the next day so we could have a later night than usual and manage her the next day without too much difficulty. (Friday night she slept for twelve hours.)

I'm going to skip over Thanksgiving this year -- dinner is at my aunt's house and Mike most likely won't be home for it anyway -- and jump right into Muffin's First U.S. Christmas.