First things first

A year (or more) has passed since I first had the gumption to start a blog.  I got as far as setting up my page in a rudimentary fashion before I fell off the horse.  On several occassions I logged in, only to sit and stare at the screen, paralyzed by a severe case of writer's block.

I'm not quite sure what prompted me to start writing today, except perhaps a major case of procrastination, but I will take it!  The way I see it, the most difficult step is usually the first one, whether it's walking, running, cycling, swimming, starting a new job, doing the dishes, or sorting through boxes upon boxes filled with who knows what from a recent (or not so recent) move.

I have always been athletic - I played soccer and softball in my younger days, before my heart and soul fell in love with basketball.  I picked up a ball when I was 10 or 11, and haven't let go.  I played a couple of years in college before I turned to coaching, which I absolutely love and have had the pleasure of doing for 10 years now.  With any athletic endeavor, there is some running, err, conditioning, involved.  When all you want to do is play, the conditioning is torture - at least it was for me.  I hated running, and only did it because I had to if I wanted to be on the court.

In my early 20s, I dabbled mostly with yoga, step-aerobics and spin classes at the YMCA, exercising to work off some of the weight I had gained in college - and it wasn't all from beer and pizza, but more about that later.  When I was 23, my dad passed away from a massive heart attack.  It was the single most devastating day of my life.  I didn't know what to do with myself, and I was simply going through the motions of everyday life just to have something to do to take my mind off of my sadness.  It was right around this time that I had seen an ad in the paper for volunteer basketball coaches.  I made the call, passed through the interviews, and was awarded a team of 12 year old girls to lead and teach.  Those girls saved me from myself.  I was responsible for their well being, for being a good example.  I went to coaching clinics, watched countless dvd instructional videos, and read everything I could get my hands on - how was I supposed to make these girls better if I didn't start by making myself better?  And so began my life as a runner.

I started by running sprints and conditioning drills with the girls, and then added a few runs of 2-3 miles per week into the mix.  I joined a running group at the Y, ran a 5k.  I didn't really enjoy it; I was tired, sore, and always huffing and puffing.  "Who likes to run?", I'd ask myself.  The response to myself was always the same - "it doesn't matter if you like it, you have to do it.  You have to take care of yourself."

I had a friend from my very first job who is an Ironman.  It was unfathomable to me - swimming, biking and running?  All at once?  For 140.6 miles?  What is wrong with you?  After a few years of listening to him tell me about his racing adventures, he finally convinced me that I should sign up to run a full marathon.  I agreed because it was in Big Sur, California.  I had never been to the west coast, and I wanted to see the Pacific Ocean.  So I paid the $100 and ordered a training booklet.  I kept on spinning, because I really enjoyed it and the instructor was fantastic.  I ran when I had time, following the training plan sporadically.  I was working full time at an accounting firm and coaching D-3 college basketball; oftentimes all I had time for was a spin class and a 6 mile run.  

In March of that year, the training plan suggested signing up for a 1/2 marathon, and since I had never run more than 6 miles, I thought that this would be a good idea.  I registered for Just A Short Run, which was held in North Park (outside of Pittsburgh, PA).  It was freezing on race day.  I put on as many clothes as I could without looking like the Michelin Man, and followed the signs to the starting line.  I remember looking at everyone there, all svelt and dressed in sleek clothing, and I wondered silently what on earth I was doing.  The gun went off, and I followed those in front of me, trying to remember what I had read in my training booklet.  I used a walk/run method - not intentionally, but because I was tired and cold and really wanted to stop.  I had some Cliff shot blocks, and counted steps.  Somehow I made it to the finish line and was awarded a medal.  I didn't hang around.  I was miserable.  I went home, took a hot shower, made some pasta for lunch, and climbed into bed.  I stayed there all day, trying to figure out how I was going to survive a race double the length of the one I just finished.

But somehow, I did exactly that.  I finished the 2008 Big Sur International Marathon with a time of 5:26:12.  I have never been happier to finish something - until the 2010 Seattle Rock N Roll Marathon - and I was so proud of myself for pushing through the event.  I had a great experience, and I haven't looked back.

It took another couple of years for me to consider myself an actual runner.  I'm not fast or graceful, but I run.  I have finished 4 full marathons - Big Sur (2008), Seattle (2010), Anchorage (2011), and Space Coast (2011), and am signed up for my 5th - Disney (2013).

What have I been doing this year, you ask?  Remember how I said swimming, cycling and running was insane?  Well . . . I am now a triathlete!  That's right - 3 endurance sports, back-to-back-to-back.  I have finished 2 sprint tris and 1 Olympic tri.  I have 1 more sprint and 1 more Olympic on my calendar before my HALF IRON triathlon this November 11th in Miami, FL.  I am nervous that I won't be ready and that I haven't been training near enough, but I persevere.  I stick to my schedule, listen to my body and adjust as needed.  I keep my mind and body strong, knowing that only my own two feet will get my across the finish line before the clock runs out.  

And so I run . . .