On Running my 1st 5k: Reflections & Lessons Learned

Today I finished my first 5k! It’s what I’ve been training for since Christmas, and now that I am home, sitting on my couch getting ready to hang out with some friends, I feel awesome about my accomplishment. But, I must admit, I learned some things along the way that were surprising (and some just re-confirmed some things I already knew about myself but had forgotten).

Run how you train.

I got caught up in the magical excitement of the race that I got a little carried away with myself. Because this was a first annual 5k it wasn’t organized into groups based on how many minutes it takes you to run a mile. Instead it was broken down into two groups: runners & walkers. Because I am seeing myself as a runner, I ran with the runners.

That was a mistake.

The runners started off fast. I “kept up” for the first 1/8-1/4 of a mile (out of the starting gate and down the road) out of pride. It was the beginning, and there were people on the sideline cheering, and I didn’t want to look like Ms. Slow-poke right from the get-go. So I ran fast. And spent the rest of the time trying to recover from my basic sprint at the beginning.

Boof said, later, that I probably would have felt better if I had run faster than the walkers, instead of spending my time trying to ‘catch up’ to the runners. He was right.

Another aspect of running how you train, is remembering pacing. I normally train without listening to music. I’ve been focusing on my breath and my footfall, and the sound of the gravel under my foot. A few days ago  I ran to a local talk-radio podcast, and found that was a good distraction without getting me out of my groove.

Today, though, with all of the hype and music blaring through the loudspeakers I decided to listen to some upbeat music to help keep me motivated. Sadly, as a former band-nerd, I can’t really run/walk to a different beat than music. This made portions of my race faster than I would have liked, and made me more tired than normal. I didn’t get into the zen-like place that I’ve been getting to lately. I was running, but I had lost my connection to myself in the process.

Self-talk
A little less than half-way into my run was when I noticed the self-talk going crazy. It was like during transition in labor, when my mind raced and I couldn’t “get it together.” I just noticed myself spinning out of control, saying things like “I am never doing this again. This is stupid,” and “even that girl in jeans and running with a purse is faster than me, I suck.” When I pushed through the middle third of the race I was fine, but it was that part that made me feel like I was breaking and like I should just quit.

Know the course

I had heard, from family members who ran cross-country in high school, that part of the 5k course was hilly and hard. But I hadn’t really looked at my route before this morning, and so I found myself running blindly, with little ability to pace myself. They had written, in chalk, at the 1 mile and 2 mile mark, but there wasn’t anything in between that. I found myself having a difficult time knowing how much time had passed, especially since the sound of music was drowning my own sense of time, and I think if I had run the route before I would have known to save energy for certain parts and where I could expend a little more energy.

Have an incentive

Boof was at the finish line, camera in-hand. When I saw the ticker-time board running, and realized that I was 45 seconds from completing the race in my goal-time (45 minutes, because the next 5k I run it’s MANDATORY…dum dum dum), I gained this new found speed and stamina that pushed me through to the end. And this afternoon I am taking a sweet trip on the light-rail downtown with some friends and their 2 boys, and we’re going to drink beer and eat burgers and have a fun time. A hard workout rewarded with some playful fun.

I’m really glad I did it. I’m really glad that I chose THIS run as my first one. It was low-key, all about community support, and was inexpensive and super-local. I may do more races, but it’s nice to have this one close to home be where I started out. Even if I don’t keep running extensively, I can see myself running this race annually to support my neighboring city!

I finished 97 of 103 women, with a time of 44:47. I ran for more than 2 of the 3 miles, and my goal had originally been to run 1.5 miles. And, the sun came out. What more can we Seattlelites ask for?

Barefoot Running or Shoes are like Bras for Feet

Shoes are like bras for feet

I have had two major bouts of barefooting. Once for four months, my senior year of high school. I took my shoes off in English class one day and absentmindedly left them behind under my desk. It started a trend-turned-social-experiment, where I tested various stores and venues to see what their bias toward a barefoot gal would be. I was already labelled the “hippie” girl at school, so my barefoot ways endeared me to my fellow classmates. Even now, over ten years later, when I bump into one of those peers they always comment on my shoe-wearing ways.

In college, senior year, again (hmm, noticing a theme, perhaps?), a friend forwarded me an article about some guy in Norway who had been barefoot for fifteen years. Well, if he could do it, in NORWAY, I figured that I could do it for awhile. It was January, in Central Washington, and there was snow on the ground. So naturally I picked the first day of class, winter quarter, to begin my new barefoot journey. This came after a weekend of researching barefoot laws and coming across the Society for Barefoot Living. That website had oodles of really great information about the history of barefooting, articles on feet mechanics in bare  feet vs. in shoes, and linked to a global list of members of the society.
Of course I joined, though haven’t actually made it to any meetups.

That journey of barefoot living lasted for a year.

Along the way I did meet some amazing people. I led retreats in my barefeet, went hiking, taught some of my friends about the joys of hiking barefoot, and travelled to Queens, New York, where I spent some time with shoes, but much of the time without. And met a fellow barefooter from Chicago. We challenged the status quo and got a dormitory to relax their rules on being barefoot in common areas. My chronic poor circulation was the best it’s ever been, that year, and I felt strong and stable and connected.

3/4 of a mile barefoot, feels good!

At the end of the barefoot year I moved to New Delhi, India and put on some sandals. I haven’t been a chronic barefooter for a few years, now, though I was introduced to the concept of barefoot running in barefoot simulated shoes. Wanting to be cool like one of my besties, I bought two pairs of Vibram Five Fingers barefoot shoes, and do love them. But there’s something magical about ACTUALLY feeling the mud between my toes and understanding how my body thrives when I am feeling grounded and connected to the earth.

I’ve been struggling with running lately. I’ve tried my two different pairs of shoes that had been recommended by a reputable running shop a few years ago. I’ve had these fluctuating mood swings while running and the negative thoughts have really begun to overwhelm me. I’ve been walking more and feel like my fear of performing poorly in my 5k is really messing with me. I’ve been ‘training’ and not ‘running’ for any type of pleasure.

So, today, at work I ran for awhile on campus. And then I took my shoes off.

The feel of the track under my feet felt marvelous. My form felt natural and my heel stopped striking even when I was tired. While I only ran 3/4 of a mile barefoot, it felt so good. There was sunshine on my shoulder and puddles underfoot, and I was running. Not training. Running.

And, it was kinda fun.

How breastfeeding is helping me become a runner

just after my 13:30 (plus dog-poop stop) mile run.

 

Whenever people would talk about running, I would usually jump in and say that “I only run if I’m being chased…and by someone much larger than me, someone I wouldn’t fight.” It would get laughs, but over the years I realized that defining myself as a not-runner had prevented me from exploring a form of exercise that is easily accessible to me. Running, like my love of yoga, doesn’t require a ton of equipment. It’s my body, some basic clothing (and shoes) and a place to run.

Yesterday I ran a mile in 13:30, which included 2 dog-poop pitstops, so I’m thinking I actually ran the mile in maybe 13 minutes. I was short on time, so I ran 1 mile faster than trying for longer. While the race is only 2 weeks away, I’ve only managed to run 1.7 miles at my furthest. I think with a little bumping up my game, I should be good to at least run 3/4 of the 5k on the 16th!

And I horned in on a friend’s facebook post about running the Hot Chocolate 5k in March, and asked if she wanted company. She was doing it alone, since her friend was doing the 15k version, and she was thrilled that I asked! That makes 2 5k’s in the first quarter of the year, which is exciting. I also think that if I decide that I don’t want to keep running, that doing two races is pretty respectable for a newbie.

I’ve been surprised at my dedication to training, even running in the rain Seattle Sunshine. I attribute this dedication to my decision to breastfeed. That might seem strange, especially since I avoided exercise at all costs for the first few eleven months of Potamus’ life for fear that my milk supply would dwindle (and because of sheer exhaustion). Every time I think of running I conjur up images of my 10th grade volleyball coach making us run endless Swedish miles on the track, her small, marathon runner’s body, pushing us to puke-or-pass-out levels. Or my basketball coach yelling from the sidelines to run faster, harder, when I just couldn’t do it. Needless to say, those yelling/shaming tactics didn’t really work on me. In fact, they pushed my anxiety over the edge to a level of sheer panic. I’ve self-induced vomitting only a handful of times, and those were all to get out of practice.

But there was a time when I enjoyed running. As a kid I played tag for hours, and football and kick-the-can in the neighborhood, and on the playground at school. I enjoyed running. It wasn’t until I had to run for a grade that I understood what people had been talking about when they complained of exercise.

So I’m learning to see myself as a maybe-runner. Or even, instead of trying to box in my identity into that category of runner, it’s must, I run, sometimes, and it feels good. And when it doesn’t feel good I am able to keep a longer perspective in mind. And THAT I attribute to breastfeeding. Because if I had given up when it had gotten hard, Potamus would have had formula since day 3. Or month 4 when I was back to work and having to come home every 3-6 hours. Or when he day-weaned but nursed every 1-2 hours all night. It’s not that I never reached a goal, or pushed through hard times to get their, before I breastfed, but certainly not to such a physical level. My goals had always been mental, like finishing school or writing a paper, this feels so different. The daily physical toll with an end-goal in mind.

I’m not there, yet, but I’m on my way. Pushing through on the daily, my eyes set on the goal, and who knows, maybe even after my two races I’ll keep running. After all, I haven’t weaned Potamus yet, after we made it to our year goal!