The Runner's Runs

Excuses . . . Excuses . . .

2010-09-02T13:26:00.000-07:00

Park City Marathon. No PR. 4 hours, 5 minutes.

Excuses:
1. Lots of hills.
2. Lots of wind.
3. I was tired.
4. I was "hemorrhaging". (I had to look that one up for the spelling!)
5. About half the marathon was on gravel. Well, maybe 1/4 . . . or an 1/8.
6. I knew the medal at the end was just going to be a suncatcher. I wasn't motivated to go get it.
7. I wasn't happy to get another blue shirt. I really wanted the shirt to be pink!
8. The 4 GUs in my shorts were chafing me.
9. My 5 hour energy shot malfunctioned.
10. I had a tampon in my sports bra.
11. etc . . . etc . . . etc . . .

Eighty-seven people ran it faster than me. I'm sure they don't have any excuses. Woe is me!

Luckily, Jeff and Marisa were there to run the marathon with me. They are the best!

Aaron and the kids showed up at the finish line looking like they'd had a great night sleep. The finish line was right outside our hotel room, so they only had to wake up 5 minutes before the big finale. Good for them! :) I was in no way resentful!!

3 generations came to cheer me on! Cali, Nyah, Grandma Sue, and Grandma LaRue (all the way from Idaho!)

Marisa and I both got new Brooks for the race!

Marisa is an AMAZING runner. She rocked the marathon. Nothing can stop this girl!

My favorite thing about the Park City Marathon -- the cold washcloth they let you borrow at the end of the race to wipe off with.

I have NEVER been happier to see a finish line in my life!

I started bawling when I got to give my kids high fives as I rounded the last bend. They truly make my life worthwhile!

Last 13 Miler before Park City Marathon

2010-08-12T18:05:00.000-07:00

Today's run can be summed up in 2 words --

it sucked! (I know. I know. Vacuums suck. Runs don't.)

The Park City Marathon is coming up next weekend and I am not ready. My legs are fatigued, I am very sleepy, and I am going to start my period the day before the marathon. (I know. I know. Too much information.)

I have to at least finish the marathon in order to get into the St. George Marathon in October. No matter what I have to finish. Whether it is. . . crawling, limping, heaving . . . I just have to finish. Why do I care about getting into St. George? At this point, I don't know if I do. But I've come this far in The Grand Slam. I've gotta finish it.

Do I care about my time at The Park City Marathon? No. (I'm a liar!)

How "Normal Women" are SUPPOSED to Go About Finding a Sports Bra!

2010-07-07T06:11:00.000-07:00

I read an article this morning in a running magazine about how to go about buying a sports bra. Here are direct quotes from the article, and the thoughts I had while reading it:

Article: "Try on a sports bra as you would running shoes."

Vanessa: Are you kidding me?! Why would I put a bra on my feet?

Article: "Most specialty running stores have a treadmill or track set up for trying out their running shoes." (this was implying that you could try out your shoes and your bra on the treadmill at the store!)

Vanessa: Where do I find a running store like that? Not in Utah County! And besides, even if the store did have a treadmill for trying on shoes, wouldn't the salesperson think it was extremely odd if I asked to try on a sports bra and then hopped on the treadmill to check out my bounce?

Article: "If the store doesn't have a track or treadmill, run in place in the dressing room." (again, to check out your bounce!)

Vanessa: Wouldn't people wonder why there was heavy breathing coming from my dressing room?

Article: "Move in ways that give your breasts every opportunity to move up and down, in and out, and in a figure eight, which is similar to the movement they actually make while you run."

Vanessa: No matter how many opportunities I give my breasts to move . . . they don't. I thought a figure eight was for ice skating!

Article: "For high-impact sports such as running, a bra featuring both compression and encapsulation is ideal. Compression bras minimize movement by pressing flat against your chest. Encapsulating sports bras, add shape and structure and keep each breast separated."

Vanessa: I'm sorry, but I just don't understand any of this. I certainly don't need COMPRESSION and no sports bra I've ever found has added any shape or structure to my body!

Article: "You should own several sports bras and should never wear the same one two days in a row."

Vanessa: Really?! You mean I can't just keep rewearing the same one everyday for 3 YEARS in a row? (No wonder I've had an odor problem.)

Article: "Finding the right sports bra is a time-consuming process, but if you start your search equipped with this article's advice, you'll be well on your way to bra nirvana. Not only will you feel more comfortable during your workouts, but you'll look fabulous, too."

Vanessa's Thoughts: Please!! This is my advice for finding a sports bra. Walk into your local WalMart and buy the first sports bra you see. Nobody sees it. All a sports bra has ever done for me is squash whatever I've got on top completely flat. Besides, I think the furthest thing from anyone's mind that passes me on a run is . . . "Ooh, look at that girl in her well-fitting sports bra. Doesn't her Size AA chest look absolutely fabulous today. And check out that Figure 8 she's doing up there on top. She is so talented!"

Watch out Boston . . . The Runner's Runs is Coming to Town

2010-04-15T18:09:00.001-07:00

What happens when you combine the Boston Marathon and The Runner's Runs?

You'll find out in about 48 hours.

it may not be pretty folks . . .

Thoughts After the Run

2010-03-13T09:13:00.001-08:00

As I had predicted, I could not keep up with the running group this morning. Thinking that I had a stomach ailment, one of my running buddies asked me a very thought provoking question after my slow run. "What's wrong with you, Vanessa?"

My answer to this question was, "Nothing!" but on my way home, I started to delve into other possible ways I could have answered her question.

"Hmm . . . What's wrong with me? Well, I have a deformity called Pectus excavatum, I have really ugly feet, my arms are as hairy as a Sasquatch, my eyebrows also fit into the Sasquatch category, my body shape is all wrong for clothes worn by modern man, my bowels are a disaster, I laugh like a clown from a mental institution, I am an ugly crier, I don't wash my hair on a regular basis, I always overeat and regret it later, I apologize too often, I have a phobia of people hearing me use the restroom so I often turn on the hair dryer or the shower while I am sitting on the potty, I don't know how to say, "No!", meat with bones grosses me out, the smell of fish makes me gag, and finally, "I don't know how to pronounce words like, "Gag, fag, and tag" correctly, and last but not least, I cannot keep up with other runners, no matter how hard I try!"

As you can see, running really helps me out with my self-esteem!

Thoughts Before the Run

2010-03-13T04:17:00.001-08:00

I'm a bit nervous about my run today.

Problem #1Yesterday I went on a feeding frenzy. Einstein bagel sandwich, Arby's Roast Beef with curly fries, more bagels with cream cheese, chocolate cake . . . I'm either 1) about to start my period, 2) pregnant, or 3) a compulsive eater. I'm almost 100% positive it is number 3! There is no way all that food is going to sit well throughout the 16 miles today.
Solution:Pray for some miracle porta-potties.

Problem #2The weather forecast is a bit foreboding. 99% chance of precipitation and windy!
Solution: Wear 2 pairs of gloves, keep my head down, and pretend to be tough.

Problem #3My butt hurts. My hamstrings hurt. My ankles hurt. I think I'm going to need all those body parts for the run, and they aren't working.
Solution: 2 Tylenol.

Problem #4I can't run as fast as any of the people I am running with today. I will probably get lost.
Solution: Take my cell phone and call Aaron for a ride home.

How Did I Do That?!

2010-03-04T09:55:00.001-08:00

I think I may have done something that no one in the world has ever done before -- pulled a butt muscle! Another thing to add to my ever-growing list of physical ailments. Looks like I won't be able to do any laundry today:(

Runner's Mouth

2010-02-19T09:56:00.000-08:00

When I am on a long run, I lose all sense of appropriate social behavior. I talk about topics considered taboo in real life. I somehow deplete so much fuel that it starts to affect my brain, as well as my body. Running is almost like truth serum --you just say it like it is!

Last Saturday the topic of mammograms surfaced at about Mile #8. I was already feeling drained -- physically and mentally. I started laughing hysterically about the thoughts of my first mammogram and then said something like, "Oh, yeah. I'll go in for my mammogram and the doctor will say, 'Umm, sorry ma'am, we don't have anything set up for the likes of you. There is no way to get those things into our machine! Sorry!"

I mean REALLY! Who says stuff like that? Especially when all the runners aren't female. I just hope no one ever brings up the topic of "hemorroids." Who knows what I'd say about that one!!

Worst Run of My Life

2010-01-21T19:47:00.001-08:00

So -- I got on the treadmill today, and nothing happened. The treadmill wasn't broken -- I was!

A Cold October Morning

2009-10-03T15:15:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up at 5 a.m., saw that it was 42 degrees outside and had to make a tough decision. Should I:

A. Go for a morning run and freeze my tail off.
B. Rob a bank, run like the wind, and freeze my tail off
or . . .
C. Take a picture of myself and go back to my nice warm bed.

I chose . . . Choice letter "A"

After about 3 minutes, my blood started pumping and I actually felt overheated in my winter gear. At mile #7, we stopped for a minute to rest. I, of course, decided at that point that I needed to find a potty spot. I looked around frantically for a bush to hide behind. It was at that moment that I saw THE SIGN. I had no idea that the city found out about my potty problems and frequent stops along the road. I'm going to have to change my running route ASAP so that none of you will turn me in for the $200 reward.

Real Time in Logan, Utah

2009-09-21T08:43:00.000-07:00

Real Time in Logan, Utah
10:00 p.m. Borrowed an alarm clock from Aunt Katie. Set it and reset it for 4 a.m. three different times. Also set the alarm on my cell phone. I am not going to miss this race.
10:30 p.m. Hunkered down under the picnic blanket I brought along to sleep with. It is very itchy. The blowup bed I brought is deflating already. I think I’ll add some more air.
11:00 p.m. Extra air didn’t help. I feel like I’m camping. Five hours till the alarm clock goes off.
12:01 a.m. Cousin Marissa just walked down the hall. Haven’t seen her in years. Got up to give her a hug. Can’t believe I am still awake.
1:00 a.m. Might as well go to the bathroom. See if an empty bladder will help me sleep.
2:14 a.m. Am listening to Donna breathing. Sounds like she’s asleep. What’s wrong with me?
2:32 a.m. I think I may have fallen asleep for a few minutes. Dreamed about crazy monkeys. Really looking forward to choking down that banana and bagel in a few hours for my pre-race carbs.
3:58 a.m. Might as well get up. The alarm is going to go off in 2 minutes anyway.
4:01 a.m. Found out the alarm on my cell phone works!
4:10 a.m. Sitting on the potty saying silent prayers. Sure hope I don’t get Toxic Shock Syndrome during the race from this tampon! How many hours are you supposed to wear these things?
4:20 a.m. Strapped the timing bracelet onto my ankle. Look at myself in the mirror. Ready or not!
4:35 a.m. Deflating a blowup bed is a very noisy process. Hope I don’t wake the whole house up.
4:40 a.m. Carry bed, itchy blanket and bags out to car. Maybe I’ll trip, twist my ankle, and won’t be able to run!
4:45 a.m. Driving towards the bus pick-up. This banana tastes like rotten squash. I sure hope the potassium helps me out today in a big way!
5:00 a.m. Park the Pathfinder in the parking lot. Don’t know what to do with my keys. Don’t want to carry them. Don’t want to put them in my bag (what if they lose it during the race and I can’t get home?!) Stash the keys in the wheel of my tire. Hopefully the car will be here when we get back.
5:15 a.m. Climb aboard the school bus as a group. Donna and I met up with Marissa, Stacey and Amy for the ride up. Laugh and laugh about running potty stories. I’m sure the people around us are dying!
6:00 a.m. One hour till race time. Porta potty line is super long. Still 7 people away from entry. A man’s been in there for a really long time.
6:15 a.m. Porta potty man exits. Terrible fumes exit with him. Everyone is gagging. Should’ve brought air freshener.
6:40 a.m. Finally inside the stinky porta potty. Go, Vanessa, Go!
6:50 a.m. Take all my layers off. Gag down some Cliff Blocks. Shaking from the cold and nerves. Turn the music up. Ready to go!
7:00 a.m. Some pioneers just shot some guns near the starting line. I guess that means, “Run!”
7:15 a.m. Running downhill. Getting a side ache under my ribcage. Doesn’t make sense.
7:30 a.m. Still running with rib ache. Where are all my friends? Keep on running, Vanessa.
7:45 a.m. Tried to drink Gatorade while running. It was red. It didn’t make it into my mouth. Look like I’m bleeding to death.
8:40 a.m. Almost to the ½ marathon point. Marissa just waved as she passed me. She rocks!
8:41 a.m. ½ marathon point. Good pace. Donna just passed me. She is doing awesome! Asked how I am feeling. I can feel the wall coming. My legs feel like rocks!!
8:50 a.m. Have reached the bottom of the mountain pass. No more momentum to push me along. Feeling extremely sluggish.
9:00 a.m. See a lady standing with a beautiful silver tray full of fruit. Maybe an orange will help give me some more energy.
9:13 a.m. Orange did not help. Need to find restroom fast.
9:16 a.m. Porta potty ahead. Uh, oh. There’s only one porta potty and people in lawn chairs lined up right beside it watching the race. How embarrassing!
9:17 a.m. It was embarrassing!
10:00 a.m. I now feel like I’d like to quit. I am no longer running. I wouldn’t even call it shuffling.
10:05 a.m. Just saw Rachel from the gym. She isn’t actually in the race, just helping to pace her friend. She asked how I was doing. I feel like crying. I am crying.
10:22 a.m. Just asked a stranger what time it is. 2.6 miles left to go. Don’t know if I can do it.
10:25 a.m. An annoying 16 year old boy keeps passing me. He is breathing very heavily and chanting to himself. Can’t people suffer in silence?!
10:39 a.m. One more mile left to go. Longest mile of my life.
10:50 a.m. Crossed the finish line. The clock said 3:48:blah, blah, blah. 3 minutes shy of Boston qualification. Shouldn’t have eaten the orange. Shouldn’t have used the porta potty. Probably have Toxic Shock Syndrome. Please remind me never to do this again.
11:15 a.m. Laying on grass looking at the beautiful blue sky. Feel sick to my stomach. Can feel blisters on my feet.
11:30 a.m. Pick up my duffel bag. Limp back to the car. It’s still there!
12:00 (Noon) Call Aaron to tell him about race.
12:30 p.m. Making plans for a marathon in April. I know . . . I know . . . I know . . .

Watch out, Logan, Utah!

2009-09-17T12:10:00.000-07:00

The Logan Marathon is less than 24 hours away. Many thoughts are flitting through my head: "Why did I sign up for this marathon? Why do people pay good money to be put through pain? Did I train enough? Should I have eaten those pinto beans last night? Am I going to die?"

People have died during/after a marathon. The thought of my heart giving out after a 26.2 mile run used to frighten me, but now I'm starting to think it may be a good way to go. At least I'd die with a finisher's medal around my neck, and I'd probably get in the newspaper. But I digress . . .

I am trying to rest my legs for Saturday morning. I have not run now for almost 3 days. I cheated a little bit today though and ran alongside, Carson, who is still learning to ride his 2 wheeler bicycle. He ran into me a couple of times with his bicycle, I almost twisted my ankle falling off the sidewalk trying to save him, and I think I may have thrown my back out leaning over to help him steer. Probably not the best choice of activities before a marathon.

P.S. I am also having pains in my right knee and the arch of my left foot today. Hopefully they are phantom pains and not reasons to see an orthopedic surgeon! You'll hear from me after the marathon! For those of you that know me well -- I am bringing a pair of gloves -- just in case!

My Favorite Chevron

2009-09-08T13:59:00.000-07:00

Because of my Runner's Runs ailment, I have been forced to make new routes that include potty pitstops.

I decided first, to form a foolproof, no accidents in the pants circular route that led me past a laundromat every 2 1/2 miles. Who can't make it 2 1/2 miles without using the restroom?! Well, this worked for awhile. I would run the loop until my stomach started rumbling, race into the laundromat restroom, use the john, and run back out. The laundromat restroom was the perfect location. The best part was, no one ever did laundry at 5 a.m., so the restroom was always available. Then one day, there was a kink in my perfect plan. I ran into the restroom, sat down and was shocked to see there was no toilet paper! I figured a homeless person must have stolen it. The next day, I outsmarted the thief. I brought my own toilet paper! This continued for weeks: bathroom still always available WITHOUT toilet paper. I made it work. I looked a little chubbier running with a wad of toilet paper in my shorts, but I didn't care! Then, to my chagrin, one early morning, I raced up to the door, but when I tried to swing it open, I realized the door was locked. There was a note on the door that said, "Due to recent THEFTS, the laundromat will no longer open until 7 a.m.!" How could they do this to me? I felt a surge of anger towards the toilet paper thief. Was he/she to blame for my "no more laundromat potty predicament?!" Or perhaps, they thought I was the thief!

Well, I was forced to switch my route. I found a very nice, clean Chevron that opens early, smells fabulous, and has sparkling clean toilets. The Chevron is about 5 miles into my route. I decided to give this new run a try. Most days, I made it the 5 miles with no accidents (I won't mention the time I didn't make it to the Chevron and went potty in someone's driveway.)! True, it wasn't as convenient as the laundromat, but I'd make it work. The first time I walked into the Chevron, I was wearing my too short purple running shorts with my pink WonderWoman water belt around my waist. I looked down at the ground as I scurried towards the restroom, hoping the workers wouldn't notice me. I used the facilities, made sure the toilet was good as new (this Chevron even provides toilet cleaning brushes for those that make a mess), and headed out. The lady at the cash register gave me the eye. "Who does this sweaty girl think she is, using my toilet and not purchasing anything?!" I could feel her disapproval.

Two days later, I decided to try the route to Chevron again. As I saw my reflection in the glass door at the front of the store, I realized I was once again dressed in my too short purple running shorts (freshly laundered of course!) and my WonderWoman utility belt. Oh, how embarrassing. I prayed silently that the same cashier from two days previous, would not be working and see me in my outfit. She'd be sure to recognize me. Luck was not on my side. I tried to ease around the chip and pretzel display instead of taking the direct route to the restroom. As I peeked over the Lays Potato Chips, I saw the cashier's eyes boring into me. I hurried into the bathroom, hoping she wouldn't follow me inside to tell me I was no longer welcome in their facility.

I once again thoroughly enjoyed the sparkly toilets and exited with no sign of the bathroom police. I decided to try a different tactic on my way out of the store. Maybe if I was super friendly, I'd be welcomed back each morning with open arms. I smiled at the cashier and said, "Thank you. Have a great day!"

"Thank you. Have a great day?" Are you kidding me? Did those words really come out of my mouth? I had just thanked the Chevron lady for the use of her toilet. I was mortified. I waited for her reaction. There was none. Not a smile. Not a, "You are welcome." Nothing.

That night I wondered what the Chevron people would do to get rid of me -- the sweaty girl in the too short purple shorts. Would they too stop providing toilet paper? Would they put a sign on the restroom door that reads, "We don't want your gas. Buy ours instead?" Or perhaps they would just lock their doors like the laundromat owner in hopes of getting rid of the early morning jogger with the runner's runs. No matter. For now, it is still my favorite Chevron!

Why Am I Doing This?

2009-08-31T07:48:00.000-07:00

On Saturday morning, my alarm clock started to buzz insistently. I reached over to hit the snooze and saw the red numbers glaring at me: 4:00 a.m. My brain was still fuzzy. Why was the alarm clock going off this early? What was I supposed to be doing at 4 a.m.? Could I just turn over and go back to sleep?

Then I remembered, I had to meet Amy and Marisa at 4:45 to go for a 20 mile run. I slowly dragged my body out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet the "running isn't good for you" part of my brain thought, "Why are you doing this, Vanessa? You got 4 hours of sleep last night, your legs are already fatigued, and you've got a busy day with the kids today. You should just go back to bed." I sighed as I stood up and headed towards the sink. I looked at my bedraggled self in the mirror, pulled my red running hat onto my mop of hair, and started brushing my teeth. My fellow runners were waiting for me. I might as well get the show on the road.

We ran up Provo Canyon together that morning. The three of us side by side. My breathing was heavy and I had trouble making my legs move. I could feel the lack of sleep weighing on me. I could also feel the piece of whole wheat toast I'd eaten for breakfast about to come up. "Why are you doing this, Vanessa?" again came to mind.

At about mile 6 or 7, Marisa was feeling strong, so she took off while Amy and I continued our journey up the canyon together. We stopped at some restrooms at a campground to relieve ourselves. I apologized to Amy profusely from my stall: "I am so sorry about all the gas passing and diahrrea noises coming from in here!" She kindly said she didn't mind. These "runner's potty moments" have really taught me the ultimate in humiliation. Since getting married 15 years ago, I haven't even wanted my husband to know that I poo let alone pass any unfeminine noises. I always go into the bathroom at home, turn on the fan and some running water to cover up any sounds, wait until the bathroom completely airs out, and then retreat quickly as if nothing unseemly occurred in there. However, since my "runner's runs" have begun, I have endured the humiliation of others knowing when and where I poo. As I sat on the pot with Amy in the next stall, I thought again, "Vanessa, why are you doing this?"

As we continued up the mountain, we saw many other runners out "enjoying" the fresh mountain air. We ran up a path surrounded by trees. Mountains peeked out above us. There was even a waterfall. We were part of nature. When we reached Vivienne Park and turned around, we had only 8 miles to go. I felt a strange surge of adrenaline as I realized we were well over our halfway point. We could do this!

There were highs and lows on our way back down the canyon. At moments we felt like talking, at other moments, we silently endured. When we had only 4 miles left to go, I looked at Amy and actually voiced my thoughts aloud, "Why are we doing this?"

Neither of us answered the question out loud but both of us knew. We run because it is good for our hearts. We run because of the adrenaline high we feel when we cross the finish line. We run because we can eat a huge meal that night and not feel the slightest sense of guilt. We run because running keeps us sane. We run because it's free. We run because we can.

The Funnel

2009-08-22T19:57:00.000-07:00

(I am now taking contributions for a trip to the Boston Marathon. My dad gave me my first dollar after the race today. At this rate . . .)

I ran the Hobble Creek 1/2 Marathon this morning. My nerves were out of control as usual. I went to the restroom twice at home and was also successful in the porta potty located near the starting line. I figured my bowels were pretty much sure to be empty. For those of you that don't know, I am well known for my bouts with the Runner's Runs.

I began the race with a surge of adrenaline (helped along by the 50 mg. of caffeine in some cherry flavored Sports Beans). I dodged around some other runners, feeling nimble as a deer, or at least maybe like a German Shepherd or something. I trotted over some potholes and dashed past some rocks in the road. The morning sun was just beginning to peak around the trees and there was a slight breeze in the air. Wow, I felt good.

At mile 5 my legs started to weaken. The caffeine from the sports beans was wearing off already. Luckily I had some more beans stashed in my shorts' pouch. I reached in to grab a couple. They slipped through my fingers onto the pavement. Luckily, I felt 2 more bouncing around in the pouch. I willed my fingers to grasp the red magic beans tightly and somehow got them into my mouth. Oh, yeah. I could taste the energy going down my throat. I was going to make it. Only 8.1 more miles to go.

By the time I got to the 10 K marker, I was done. Should I just quit now? My throat was parched. My legs were dead tired. I had started the race too quickly and was paying severely for it. Then I saw a water station ahead. If I could just make it to that kid with the cup. Yes! I did it! I grabbed the cup and tipped it up to the corner of my mouth just like the Runner's Magazine tells you to. Most of the water went into my mouth and down my throat. A success. Then a tramatic thing occurred. I felt the water that I had just pored into my mouth, running into my shorts. My bladder had released and I had peed all over myself. Well, this was a new humiliation that I had never experienced before. Normally, I have the "runs". Now it seems I had lost control of my entire body! What was going on?!

I continued on, already smelling myself. I stunk like a child that is being potty trained, whose mother leaves him in his wet undees to teach him a lesson. I tried to look on the bright side -- only about half way to go to the finish line.

The sun was getting brighter. My throat was so dry. I knew I'd have to stop for another drink. I was kind of excited. It would be like an experiment to see if I could drink without peeing. At the next water station I grabbed another cup of water and poured it down my throat. It happened almost instantly. Pee running down my legs. What was happening? Had I turned into a funnel? Pour water into the top and watch it trickle out the bottom. It was a new low for me.

My new loss of bladder control kept my mind off the pain of the race. My brain flitted from question to question. Would I have to get surgery? Maybe I could look into some bladder control panties or pads to wear during races? Perhaps I would learn to enjoy peeing on myself?

When I crossed the finish line, I was proud to hit a new PR: 1:36. The joy I should've felt, was decreased significantly however, by the fact that I can no longer drink a glass of H20 during a race. I am now, officially, a funnel.