Sometimes there is nothing like a good cry. We look for it, hunt it down, and cherish it. Sometimes the cry finds us all by itself. Crying helps us get past the pain and heal ourselves.

When I was a teenager, I can remember feeling sad. I felt the hurt deep down, but it wouldn’t surface without a little encouragement. That was when I would pull out some of my Mom’s music, the sad stuff, and play it. There was an ashtray, or candy dish, that was white with gold etching. On the bottom and had the date of my Mom and Dad’s marriage. It was a wedding gift for a marriage that didn’t survive. I’d lie on the ground, look up at the ceiling and cry.

I’d remember the day that my Dad called us aside and told us that he was moving out. He insisted that he loved us and always would. He didn’t love my Mom anymore; how did we know that he wouldn’t stop loving us some day too. Then he got in his VW bug and drove away. It was only one trip. From a 5 bedroom, two-story home, all he took would fit into that car. I was sure that I could have fit too, but he left me behind with my Mom. That memory cropped up today along with others.

I could feel it coming on. I was thinking of not my birth father, but the man who raised me after that day when my father drove away. I called him Jim as I never wanted to hurt my birth Dad and make him feel that I had replaced him. It was when my children were born that I began calling him Papa.

I was having a nice cross-training session on the spin cycle at lunch. I was absorbed in with the music playing on my iPod, while I let my legs spin against a steady resistance. Sit for one song, stand for two. The sky outside was dark with signs of impending rain and behind me the treadmills were emptying one by one. I watched drops of sweat fall from my body and hit the floor. It was as if they fell in slow motion. I looked around to find that the fitness center was now nearly empty. My mind was sad, and I felt lonely. 5 minutes to go. I switched the music to something slower for a cool down. As I examined my playlist, I thought of him, and then searched for the song. Instead of cooling down, I pedaled hard. I could feel the pain of in my legs and in my heart and I had to look the other direction as the people from the class started coming out of into the main gym. I tried to look intense as my boss walked by to grab a towel. He resisted his temptation to say hi, in seeing my focus.

Later in the day I went for some Cranio-sacral work on the hand that I injured while running last month. As the therapist, Marilyn, worked images flowed through my mind. I saw myself a little girl. Perhaps I had fallen and was teased. I wasn’t sure what I had been doing. Then I saw my son, BoBo, when he fell down and saved his cookie from being destroyed. He cried only for the moment initially following his fall and then stopped when he saw that his cookie had been saved. I saw myself crying, perhaps after a relationship breakup, as I lay on the floor and listened to Carole King and other music of my Mom’s. The pictures were happy and also sad. They were my memories.

As Marilyn arrived at my face, I saw myself in the pool with Papa and the kids. We were happy. We were talking about the great CT scan results he had received. Then we were playing Bocce ball in the yard at YaYa’s birthday. We were having fun then too. I felt the tears fill my closed eyes and roll down into my ears. Just as when the sweat drops fell during my workout, I was present but had separation from them. My lips quivered and I let myself cry as Marilyn continued to work. It was then that the pictures stopped. I felt him but could no longer see him. “Why did you go,” I asked. There was no answer and the session ended. When Marilyn left the room, I cried.

On the way home I keep on thinking. Marilyn’s work was supposed to be a healing so what was I missing? What was the message? Finally, it came to me. Papa was kind and loving. He was a positive influence in my life. His body is gone but his memories linger. I am sad, but I should also remember the gift of kindness and love that he gave to us.

Posted by Juls at 11:53 PM | Permalink

If I had planned the weekend out right, I would have completed my housework on Friday. I returned home to find the same clutter, dirty clothes, and dishes awaiting me. Having done such a hard workout, my legs ached. It was a bit surprising because 11 miles is not an exceptionally long distance for me. None-the-less, my legs were feeling it. Perhaps an ice bath would have been more therapeutic, but my hot shower felt so good after today’s a run. I just sat there and let the hot water run down my back and hoped that the mess would be gone by the time I got out. It knew that it wouldn’t. Instead, I had two neighbor kids over for a play date. I started slow. I wiped the counters down, loaded the dishwasher and started it, and put a load into the washing machine. Then I ate something. I was felling a bit light headed. Afterwards, I swept and vacuumed the house. It is now time to cook dinner and finish up the weekend’s homework. The bathrooms can wait until another day, but the house is back into reasonable shape and ready for the abuse of another week.

Posted by Juls at 11:51 PM | Permalink

On Sunday morning I got up at 6:00 AM to get ready for my long run. Yesterday was a comical event (if you have amusement). I was getting set for another chase run. YaYa's bike had a flat. Wonderful! I didn't have time to mess with it, so I just pumped it up and hoped for the best. When we arrived at the trail, I took the bike out of my Mommy-Van only to find that it was low on air (but not flat). By then YaYa wanted to ride so we headed out on the trail. I could hear the tire getting lower and lower on air. At mile 1 we turned back. At 1.5 miles, I had YaYa get off and we both ran back to the van. We loaded up and headed for the nearby track where I got the balance of my 6 mile pace run. 6.03 miles (51 minutes).

At 7:15 AM I arrived at the park for today’s run. A smile came to my face as I drove through the gates. The sun was just coming up; fluffy white clouds and fog hovered over the hills. This is my favorite place to run. The plan for today’s run is 11 miles. I met two friends and we set off at an easy pace. The biggest hill on the trail is about 2 miles up. It’s steep and tough. I watched as my friends gradually got farther and farther ahead. My breathing wasn’t easy. I wished that I was running alone so that I wouldn’t be worried about my pace in relation to theirs. My heart rate was up and my breathing was rapid. I walked for a couple of minutes and then resumed my running. At the top of this hill Cindy and Mark were waiting for me. “Take your time,” Cindy says with a smile. I have to admit that I wanted to flip her off. I felt so slow and humbled. When I finally reached the top, I glanced at my watch and found that I was right on target for the pace that I like to run this route. I felt better knowing that and considered having given up 1 pint of my blood probably did have an affect on my ability to run up the hill with ease.

The remainder of the run felt good. After the big hill, the rest of the run rolls up and down. It’s beautiful here. We went 8 minutes past our 4.75 mark and then turned back. 11 miles (1:40:43)

Posted by Juls at 11:47 PM | Permalink

I sat on a park bench just outside the cage where BoBo was getting his lessons. He worked on his pitching technique with his instructor, Scott. They broke down the steps and Scott commented on what BoBo was doing right or wrong.

Scott admits that breaking the steps down can be boring, but he reassures BoBo of the importance of good form to protect from injuries. I had a good view of BoBo from where I was seated. His face showed his focus. His eyes were intense as he raised his left leg off the ground, balanced for a few seconds and then brought it down so that his foot almost touched the ground. Then his glove pointed forward, towards Scott, as his right arm pulled back and then made its way up behind his head. As his right arm began to propel the ball forward his right foot came around and landed in front of him. I watched the ball make its way into the Scott’s glove.

I love to watch BoBo pitch when he’s in the zone. There are other times, when he is not in the zone, that I hold my breath…especially if he is on the mound at a game. Today, he concentrates for his lesson. He absorbs what the instructor is telling him. His intensity reminds me of myself when I am in my zone while running. It’s awesome.

Posted by Juls at 11:44 PM | Permalink

The email went out yesterday notifying us of the urgent need for blood. Today, I arrived at the office to find my colleagues contemplating when to go down to donate. I’ve often given blood, but more recently have let the blood drives come and go without getting a drop of my A+ blood. This morning, however, I let them take a pint of my blood.

Later in the day, I passed through the cafeteria with my lunch in tote - a nice salad and chicken lime soup. Some of my colleagues get my attention as I head upstairs to drop my lunch at my desk before heading to the fitness center. I probably shouldn't have been taken back by their concern for me working out after donating blood this morning. The Post Donation Instructions note, Don't do any strenuous activity or exercise, heavy lifting or other heavy use of your arms for the next 24 hours. But how one defines "strenuous" is varied depending upon the individual. For me, running 3 miles at an easy pace is not at all strenuous, and that is just what I did. No weights, no speed work, just me and my iPod.

Beginning my workout a bit later than usual, I saw the usual fitness center goers, as they were finishing up their daily exercise. I choose my treadmill and set it for a very easy pace with the plan to keep my heart rate less than 160 with my 10% loss in circulating blood volume. I resumed the play list that I ended my last run with. Familiar songs played and I noticed that, at the much slower pace, I felt the urge to increase the speed. I resisted. It was fun, listening to music, reading the text from the TVs in front of me, and moving along. Towards the end of the workout, YaYa's sleepy voice said, "Go Mom, You're almost there". This is a mix of YaYa's voice that DD mixed with some fast beat music for me. It makes me smile and encourages me on the run. Yes, I am almost there. Pretty soon 3.1 miles done, I head back to my office.

Posted by Juls at 11:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Grandma’s Marathon is rated high in all areas of evaluation in the Marathon & Beyond Publication. I’ve always wanted to do it. Each year, however, I have logged onto the website only to find out that the race is already sold out. Grandma’s Marathon takes registration by mail only. You can send the race a SASE in order to have an entry form mailed to you when they first come available. The forms cannot be downloaded from the website until 4 days after they are mailed.

My entry form for the Grandma’s Marathon came on Saturday. At the time that I mailed away for the entry form I was not totally sure that my husband and I would be running The Avenue of the Giants Marathon. Since that time, I began my 18-week training program and have been set towards that goal. On Saturday, I noticed the envelope sitting on the counter. I sat and stared at the entry form. I remembered hearing that all of the hotels were selling out. I thought, “If I can’t get a hotel room, then why try to get into the race”. Well…I DID get a reservation so I took that as a sign. I completed my entry form and mailed it in priority delivery. I’ll just see what happens.

Now my head swims with thoughts on what scenario should play out. I could run BOTH marathons. I’ve done two marathons 5 weeks apart. Other than giving me two chances to BQ, I can’t see the benefit. I could run a half-marathon at the Avenue and then support my husband during his marathon. I could only run Grandma’s. What’s a girl to do?

Today I did 50 minutes on the spin cycle. Since I forgot my iPod, it wasn’t as fun as last time. I got a good workout; I was dripping with sweat. I did a bit of standing climbs and a couple of 90-second sprints. The schedule is starting to build which means I’m going to have to get creative about how I fit it all in. Of course if I am doing a June marathon, I’ll need to revise my training to be sure that I don’t peak too soon. I’m tormented.

Posted by Juls at 11:37 PM | Permalink

The alarm clock went off this morning about 15 minutes before my feet finally hit the floor. My bed is so warm and these mornings are cold lately. 39.2 degrees today when I headed out for my long run. Although the schedule calls for only 6 miles, as it is step-back week, the overall premise on running long and easy still holds.

I met Cindy at a nearby park and we headed out for 3 out and back. We started out slow; she fumbled with her HR monitor, and then we settled into a comfortable pace. My legs felt heavy from yesterday’s “faster than MY marathon race pace” run. Cindy admitted having done mile repeats on the treadmill late yesterday too.

The GPS never quite gives what I expect the distance should be on this particular trail. It doesn’t matter that much today anyways; we’re just running for distance. As long as we run until the GPS shows 6 miles, I’ll have the reassurance that I at least ran 6 miles and possibly more. Cindy has to explain to her Father that I am obsessive about getting the required distance in as we run past him to get the final 0.03 miles accounted for.

Next weekend, I’ll run 11 miles for my long run. The following weekend I’ll replace my 12 mile Long Run with a half-marathon and shorten my Saturday run by 1 mile to keep the mileage the same. I’m glad to have a race coming up; my excitement for the marathon is already building inside of me. It’s weird, but I am feeling the pre-race adrenaline already. I can hear the redwood trees cheering me on from here, “Go Julie!”

Posted by Juls at 11:35 PM | Permalink

Everyone had just awakened when I returned home from my 9-mile run. I always feel good when my time away is as seamless as this morning’s run appeared to be. I hadn’t slept well during the night and the time seemed to slowly tick into the morning. At 6:45 AM, I got out of bed. I changed into my running clothes that I had set out last night in the bathroom.

Today’s run was cold. I’d forgotten my gloves and my hands and fingers never seemed to warm up. At the second mile, I pulled my sleeves down over my fingers. They stayed down for all but the last mile.

Running on the streets shoulder/bike lane felt much like running in the actual marathon itself. I tried to avoid looking at the elapsed time, or the pace. I only looked at the current mileage to gauge what direction to head in and for how far. I was pretty proud of my estimations when I turned onto my street just as the GPS clicked off the 9th mile. Mission accomplished; another training week behind me.

Posted by Juls at 11:31 PM | Permalink

I think when Hal Higdon designed his training programs it was prior to the days of overcommitted weekends. His program prescribes a Saturday Pace run followed by a Sunday long run. The training program that I have used before this one has only required a Sunday long run.

This morning I awoke at about 7 AM and just lay in bed listening to the rain coming down. I had been pushed to the very outer edge of the bed since our 7 year old came to join us at about 4:30 AM. I wasn’t comfortable, so why should I resist getting out of bed to go running. I knew that should not I let this opportunity pass; I might not get another chance to fit in the prescribed 5-mile run. My body was telling me to lie low; it is tired, my nose has been stuffy all night and my throat is sore.

I didn’t get out of bed. I just rolled to the floor about an hour and a half later knowing that I’d missed my opportunity. The rain was now falling lightly, but baseball tryouts were to be starting soon for BoBo. YaYa’s tryouts were not scheduled until 11 AM, and would last about 1 hour. It would be enough time to do my run in the area but, since it was raining, this would not be possible today. I needed to be close by in case they were cut short.

By noon I was on the phone to the YMCA to inquire about their childcare hours. I’d be willing to do some time on the “mill” just to get the miles in. No luck with that; childcare closes in 30 minutes. Quickly, I warmed up a can of clam chowder, and spooned it into two bowls. The boys were watching a movie and eating as I went upstairs and put on my running clothes. I grabbed my GPS device to gauge the distance. I wasn’t hungry, but it was lunchtime after all, so I sucked down a GU gel, took some sips of water, and hit the rainy streets.

I hate driving in this weather, and running in the streets neighboring my house isn’t a time to be carefree. I felt on guard all of the time. I listened and watched the cars carefully to be sure nobody lost control in the rain. I ran on the sidewalks for most of it and just hoped that my legs would forgive me for it. It is just too much pounding. I made a wide loop that I hoped would total 5 miles. As I made the turn by the Safeway, I realized that I would be over if I did the entire planned route, so I cut through the neighborhood and headed for home.

Tomorrow, I am going to have to get up early to fit a 9-mile run into the day. It’s only going to get worse when baseball season gets going. I don’t like missing the boy’s games so I’ll have to figure something out.

Posted by Juls at 11:28 PM | Permalink

The mystique of running in the Boston Marathon is only something that I can imagine to this point. I have not experienced it; I have only heard about it. The Boston Marathon cannot be run by just anyone who signs up for it. A runner cannot sign up until they have earned the right to do so. It is a challenge.

CIM has pace teams, and it was my plan to run with the pace team. At the race expo I met the 3:50 pace group leader. His name was Bill. He was just a normal guy but he knew how to run the race well. He started out explaining how his plan was to run at an even effort. The average pace would be 8:47 minutes/mile. After Bill answered our questions, he began asking us questions. He wanted to know how many marathons had we each run. He asked who was trying to qualify for Boston. I raised my hand.

Bill began talking describing the Boston Marathon to us. He said that the hard work is in getting there, but recommended that once you were at the Boston marathon to just enjoy it. "It's a big party,” he explained. He talked about the streets lined with people cheering, and how by the all girls’ school the cheering was quite a few octaves higher. He explained that the towns plan everything around the event. The example that Bill gave was how the game lets out at Fenway Park and the game goers come out just in time to see the marathon going past. He described the finish line had bleachers five stories high with a huge screen in front you as you approach the finish. You can see yourself as you finish and your friends and family get a great view too. Just listening to Bill speak was so inspiring to me. I could only imagine what it would be like to spend just short of 4 hours running with him. I was caught in the porta-potty when the starting gun when off. I was two minutes late to the start. I started out fast, passing people along the way, but I never hooked up with Bill and the 3:50 pace team.

I think there are many who would have given up on the goal for Boston Qualification by now. I continue to train and try again. Each marathon is a test and there is always something to learn from the experience.

A week ago I began training for my tenth marathon. Each marathon that I train for and run is an achievement in itself. Running marathons is something that I do and also something that very few understand why. When I try to explain, to a non-running person, that I would like to like to run in the Boston Marathon I get a puzzled look in return. Non-runners don't quite get it no matter how you explain it. At lunch I rarely eat with my colleagues. I use this time to train. My colleagues see me out there in the rain, or scorching heat, running my heart out. In their eyes I am crazy.

Today the schedule calls for cross training. I arrived at the fitness center at my work ready to do some time on the stationary cycle. I could not believe my eyes; we now have two spin cycles in the center. I quickly started adjusting the cycle to my short torso settings and away I went. The program calls for "relative rest" today. I think I cheated a bit. I spent half the time doing standing climbs and kept things moving at a pretty brisk pace the entire time. I don't know how far I would have rode, but I rode for 30 minutes and dripped sweat all over the bike.

Posted by Juls at 11:24 PM | Permalink

When you have young children, and have a goal such as running a marathon with a Boston Qualifying time, training can be interesting. Today I was scheduled to run a “pace run” per Hal’s Intermediate I program. My son, YaYa, accompanies me. He is 7 years old. He rides a bike well but I am still not comfortable with him on the bike path as I would like to be. Shortly after we got moving along the path, YaYa takes a spill. Okay, now we got that over with. He brushes off the dirt and we are moving again.

Now he’s moving pretty briskly and I am chasing after him offering him instructions and encouragement. “Stay right, YaYa”, “Okay, watch out for bikes coming from behind when you pass those walkers”, “Make sure the lady with the dog knows you are coming so that she can keep her dog to the right”. It’s hard enough to keep up with him, but even more difficult to yell these instructions along the way. “Good job, YaYa”.

After a bit YaYa starts to slow down. I’m not sure if he is getting tired, is bored, or just taking in the scenery. We stop for water and get moving again. When we come to the little hills I push him from behind and tell him to “peddle, peddle” and “use your strong legs”. He wants me to lead the way, but I want him in front of me so that I can be sure that he is safe. “How about if I just follow the pink girl?” he suggests seeing another runner ahead of us. “Well, that is fine until we pass her”, I explain. “What about the blue guy?” he asks. “The pink girl will be passing him soon”, I go on. “What bridge were you talking about?” he keeps asking. “YaYa, you will see the bridge when we get to it”, I go on. I’m tired just thinking about all of the questions.

Finally we reach the bridge and I have him get off of the bike because the downhill side is pretty steep. There are metal poles at the bottom to keep the cyclists from going down it too fast. YaYa runs down the bridge while I run with his bike to the bottom. He gets back on and we continue on a dirt path for the last half of a mile. It seems sort of silly to even go over the bridge for such a short distance, but I am “Type A” about my training. I need to have logged the required distance. The terrain is more difficult for YaYa to maneuver. He struggles with the hills and the rugged trail. I slow down to help him steer and push him up the hill. We run a bit over a quarter mile and then we turn back. As I turn around, I glance at my GPS device. My average pace has dropped from 8:40 to 8:56. This just won’t do. I get YaYa started and pick up the pace in an effort to regain my planned marathon pace. I don’t quite recover the pace by the end of the dirt trail but I’m sure glad to be done. Run 5.16 (45:53)

Posted by Juls at 11:18 PM | Permalink

Over the past few days I've felt a bit like Chicken Little looking up at the sky and holding back the urge to scream, "The sky is falling, the sky is falling". It's mainly been the tree branches in the area that have been falling from the sky due to the increased wind and rain. I've been looking at the sky and using that as an excuse to avoid running outside. It's a self-preservation measure. I've already fallen pretty good you see and I don't want to risk falling again at least until my hand has healed.

While driving to the local YMCA to do my time indoors on the "mill", or indoor cycle, I’ve driven past runners out in the rain. There are very few, but in the rain they trudge just as I have done winter after winter…just not today. I think back to training for my first marathon, in the winter of 2001-2002, when my husband and I ran in the rain and learned the value of that really expensive raingear. We were drenched, cold, and wondering how long the rainy winter would last. We were soon heading to the running store to purchase our raingear for running. We were so much happier runners after that and I even enjoyed running in the rain.

Today I looked outside the window and noticed green hillsides that used to be all brown. It looked a bit cool, but it wasn't raining. Today's training program calls for a short 3-miler. It seems silly to run indoors on the "mill" again today when there is no rain coming down. I grabbed my GPS, running wear, and headed for the hills (small ones). Though it was only 3 miles, and I was careful not to go to fast and risk falling, it sure felt good to get outdoors again. The wind was blowing so hard, at times, that I had to lean into it to keep moving. It was refreshing.
When I run outdoors, I usually try to give a greeting to everyone I pass. Even when I am wearing headphones I try to wave, or say, “hello” to everyone I meet on the trail. Running is just so much more enjoyable that way. It is always interesting to see who returns the greeting and who does not. My running friends have a few theories. Runners are the friendliest. Cyclists are pretty friendly too but you have to watch carefully for the nod or wave because they don’t have a lot of time to offer it up. Walkers are the snootiest. It does not make any sense. They aren’t out of breath and they should be the ones who have more time to receive the greeting and return the nicety. Today the walkers were grumpy, the cyclists just didn’t have the time, and the runners were too much in a hurry. I caught up to one girl who had a sore knee. Her knee was wrapped up, she admitted, as I made small talk for a minute. She was the only one who was friendly. There was an older man at the parking lot that I gave an overly cheerful, “hello” to. He did say, “Hello”, back to me but made it very clear that it was against his better judgment. I didn’t let it get me down but just wondered, as I made the final stretch back to the office, am I the only one happy to be out exercising in 2006? Run 3.6 miles (32:43)

Posted by Juls at 11:16 PM | Permalink