Marathon Dates

My husband and I refer to our first date as our marathon date. It lasted over 12 hours, included a stop at his parents’ house, my first mountain bike purchase, and drinks with his best friend. Nothing like jumping in headfirst. (Ironically, we’ve since run several marathons together, but those are never considered marathon dates!)

It’s been 14 years and two children since that first date and we still make an effort to spend chunks of time together reconnecting as a couple. We’re committed to frequent dates and shoot for an annual getaway doing something active. Just the two of us. Alone.

And so last week, Tony and I returned to the scene of our “best ever date.” We relived the “double crossing” of the Grand Canyon, where we ran from the South Rim to the North Rim, spent the night on the North Rim, and then ran back again. It was an amazing adventure with lots of great memories and nothing but each other’s company to occupy the time.

For two full days it was no kids, no work, no television, no phone. Just us.  We met a retired couple who have spent the last six years driving around the country in an RV, met some marathoners from KY, and enjoyed the beauty of the Southwest. When we finished our adventure in the Canyon, we went to the movies, enjoyed good coffee, and watched television in bed (off limits in our home!).

Surprisingly, the time we spend together never includes my typical dose of mother guilt.  When we take a multi-day trip away from the kids, we make every effort to ensure that they have good care, and they have a set schedule.

This time around they had the pleasure of spending the weekend with their aunt and cousins.  They still had to stick to their routine, but they were rewarded with a couple of impromptu stops at Dairy Queen, and an extra late movie night with pizza.  While their routine gives them the boundaries to know they are safe, the extra treats and later bed times keep it fun while Mom and Dad are gone.

Three and a half days away from the kids gave us plenty of time to reconnect doing something we both love.  And that makes for a very happy couple.  In the long run, happy parents make happy kids and healthy parents make healthy kids.

–Laurie

Bed head, anyone?

Getting out of bed before the sun comes up means I’m rarely lookin’ fresh for my early morning workouts. I’m a stickler about sweating with clean teeth, but beyond that there isn’t much prep time associated with my pre-dawn fitness. Hair in pony, coffee in cup, grab the nearest (sometimes not-so-clean shirt) and I’m out the door.

I’m pretty sure we all share that routine to some degree (though you may always be confident your shirt is clean). For most of us, the main priority is getting out quietly, not getting out pretty. We don’t dare wake the kids or we’re up early and without our daily dose of fitness.

That said, there is something wonderful about working out with other people when we’re most ourselves, no primping, no prepping and probably no deodorant. What you see is what you get, wrinkles and all. Perhaps that why some of my fondest memories of fitness, some of my best fit-friendships, have grown during those early hours when the light is dim.

For me, getting out of bed in the morning ranks up there with cleaning the bathroom or making school lunches: Not. Much. Fun. But like most of the really great things in life, there is payback in the effort. The friendships hold me accountable, keep me climbing out of bed and lacing up my shoes.

As darkness takes over a little more of the morning, resist the urge to crawl back under the covers. Remember those friendships, those naked truths we love to see in each other, and keep moving! Even if the only face you see is your own reflection in the window, remember there is someone waiting for you and continue to embrace the dawn!

--Laurie

Remembering 9/11

Ten years ago today, my life changed. Less than two hours after watching a second line appear on a pregnancy test, I witnessed the horrors of 9/11 unfold from the coffee shop at work. I had just told a friend (another high mileage runner) about the faint line; told her we planned to test again the next day “just to be sure.” But I knew. A second line was a second line, no matter how faint.

For the thirty minutes we talked, my main concerns about being pregnant were how far and how fast I could run with a baby on board. Would I be able to run throughout my pregnancy or would I have to settle with walking in the later months?

As I got up from the table with my friend and saw the crowds of people behind us watching the television coverage of the attacks, I remember thinking that running during my pregnancy wasn’t important. I felt silly at having worried; now there were more serious considerations. Like, how could I bring a child into a world where such terrible things were happening?

From the moment I stood up (close to 8 am CST), I was terrified. I remember crying that night as I realized the enormity of the attack. Watching the aftermath on television with my husband, knowing we had a baby on the way, made the event seem even more grievous. It was an attack on everyone, even our unborn child.

We went ahead and took another pregnancy test the following day. We’d deluded ourselves into the “uncertainty” of the test from the day before. Wanted a new, happier day to know for sure. As expected, the faint line had turned into a confident, bold declaration.

As our baby grew I continued to worry about the world, but I also continued to run. After time, I realized that the running really was important. It was something I could control, something that made me feel like I was making a difference in my world. It was a statement, a proclamation of how important health and fitness were to me. It was my way of telling myself, my child, and my community that I wasn’t going to live in fear.

But admittedly, a small amount of fear remains with me today. I hate the thought of anything threatening the safety of my family. So I’ll do what I can each day to keep them safe in the ways I can control. I’ll do what I can to stay healthy and teach them to do the same.

We’ll never forget the tragedies of 9/11. We’ll never forget that first pregnancy test; the day we first learned we were going to become parents. The events will forever be connected, and forever remind us how fragile life really is.

Laurie

Sneaking a Kiss

A new school year is upon us!

Dropped my youngest off at her kindergarten room today and did something I hadn't done yet during her six day tenure in school. I lingered outside her room, peeked in through the glass to see what she did as her day began.

First, a pause. She leaned over the counter in her classroom as if powering up some internal engine. Then, with a bounce of energy, she planted a big kiss on her palm and danced off out of sight. 

If you're into children's literature at all, you're familiar with Audrey Penn's book The Kissing Hand in which Chester Racoon's mom puts a kiss in his hand that stays with him for his first day of school. Understand why my heart turned to mush?

I've been grieving the transition this year, having both girls in school. Watching Maggie this morning took a little of the bitter out of bittersweet. She's a wonderful person; I'm happy I get to share her spirit with others but I still miss her. Miss them both.

After dropping the girls off, I walked out of school with a smile on my face. I climbed into my car, looked at my palm, and gave it a little kiss.

Pretty sure it's gonna get me through the day.

Laurie

Post-Race Blues: How to deal with depression after crossing the finish line

After more than 15 years of racing, I realize that crossing the finishing line is still not the final step in any athletic event. I have a post-race phase to move through before setting my sights on the next event.

After training and competing comes post-race depression.

For me, post race depression seeps into the downtime I’m supposed to enjoy between events. It’s that feeling of letdown after something big happens—much like returning from a vacation or actually getting a promotion that you worked hard for. It leaves me asking answerless questions like: What did that really mean? Did I do my best? Now what?

And what makes this kind of downer so intense is that we are in recovery mode. When we pull back the reins on exercise, perhaps taking several days off from our primary sport, our bodies miss the endorphin high. In a survey I conducted for Hot (Sweaty) Mamas: Five Secrets to Life as a Fit Mom, I learned that many women (and men too) rely on the antidepressant effects of exercise. Take it away and many of us feel pretty hollow.

So what should you do?
1. For starters, if you know you are apt to feel depressed after a big event, listen to your body and recognize the triggers and patterns in your mood. You will eventually be able to step outside of the feeling and realize that mood doesn’t define you and the sadness will pass.

2. Keep positive energy alive by talking with others about the event and perhaps taking time to journal about your experience and reflect on your accomplishments. Acknowledge the magnitude of your efforts as well as your feelings surrounding them.

3. Eat a healthy and balanced diet. This is especially true if you participated in an endurance event that requires sugary supplements to keep you going. Gut rot may haunt you for a day or two, so be sure to consume healthy, whole foods to keep your spirits from bonking.

4. Get lots of sleep. Extra rest will help bring back your ability and desire to train hard again.

5. If you are feeling the effects of endorphin withdrawal (that is, you simply cannot fathom taking a few days off), commit to cross training in new or enjoyable ways. In order to allow your body time to recover, consider less strenuous exercise, like easy cycling, walking or relaxing laps in the pool.

6. While this may be a bit counterintuitive, do not schedule another big event right away.  Learn to enjoy the unstructured time in your life.  Your aim is to have longevity in your activity, and going from one big race to another is a prescription for burnout. 

Post-race blues are real, but thankfully they last only a short time. Follow these steps and the symptoms of situational depression (that’s the real terminology) won’t prevent you from basking in your post-race bliss!

Laurie Kocanda will complete her Master’s in Counseling Psychology in spring 2012 and is co-author of Hot (Sweaty) Mamas: Five Secrets to Life as a Fit Mom. Despite her predictable post-race blues, she has completed over 40 marathons and ultramarathons.

This post recently appeared in Inside Dirt, an online publication distributed by Trail Runner magazine.

Rites of Passage

“You run marathons? Wow! Have you ever pooped your pants?” If I had a nickel for every time someone has asked me that… Seems like some people think uncontrolled bodily functions go hand-in-hand with long distance running. (Hint: They don’t! And I’ve never pooped myself on a run!)

I’m not immune to similar ignorance. For years I’ve watched other runners lose toenail after toenail (including my husband, who lost all 10 after running the Western States 100 miler!). Somehow, I saw this loss as a badge of honor, a mark of commitment to the sport. My internal dialogue kept reminding me, “You aren’t a true ultra runner until you lose a toenail.”

Well, after running the Voyageur 50 mile a few weeks ago I’ve had a sudden change of heart. I endured over ten hours of heat, humidity and hills. I had existential moments I thought came only with a Timothy Leary experiment. My husband has a pithy little saying he heard somewhere: “If you make friends with pain you will never be alone.” I suffered. I made friends with pain, and as it turns out, I got my wish granted. I am going to lose a toenail.

Now I would like to unfriend this particular insidious version of pain. It’s there constantly. I rub my toenail on the sheet and it hurts, I stubbed said toe on the dresser and it sent a scream out of my mouth that brought the whole family running into the room. I thought that draining it might reduce the pressure and make it feel better. It turns out that my Dr. Oz moment may have just got it infected. It’s not the glamorous party I thought it would be.

I gave birth to my two kids without drugs.  What I wouldn’t do for an epidural right now.
-Laurie

Why Run 50?

It was mile 25 and my daughter heard my plea: “I’m so tired. I just want to quit.” I was exhausted from four and a half hours of trail running in the Minnesota Northwoods and felt nauseous thinking about running the course again in reverse.

At 9 years old, Cady didn’t quite understand why, when I had just said I wanted to stop, I was about to turn around and head back. “Just stop, Mom.” Simple logic.
My husband, on the other hand, pulled me up out of the chair I’d just crumpled into and got me turned back toward the finish. “We’ll see you at the next aid station!” Somehow he’d tricked me into moving again.

The Minnesota Voyaguer Ultra is a 50-mile foot race on some of the most beautiful and rugged trails I’ve ever run. It’s rocky, rooty, hilly, and muddy with a few stream crossings, scramble-on-your hands-and-knees ascents, and slide-on-your-butt-descents. For the first 25 miles, it’s more fun than anything else. But at the turnaround it becomes a test of wills, an exercise in mental toughness.

So as I started to climb the trail out of the Duluth Zoo, I began thinking about why I was running this distance. What it was that was keeping me going. I came up with a few reasons that, even in my post-race return to sanity, sound pretty compelling:

 

My kids had fun, but the day was mine.

1. As a mom, there are few things I do that are JUST for me. This race, this weekend, was all about me. Like it or not, it’s something my kids need to experience. They need to see Mom as an individual, her own person with goals and aspirations. Hopefully it’s something they’ll remember (and replicate in their own way) when they have children of their own.
2. Self-confidence isn’t always easy to come by for me. Running 50 miles reminds me that I am worthy and capable of much more than I sometimes give myself credit for.
3. There is a sense of community I feel when running these races that is unmatched anywhere else. It’s not like a quick trip through a water stop during the marathon or 5K. It’s people taking the time to figure out what you need and get you back on your way. Each individual’s finish is really a group effort. I love that.
4. Trail runs are beautiful. There is a sense of peace when running in the woods that I don’t get anywhere else. Trail runs are the perfect excuse to run through mud, and splash through puddles and streams. I get to “wear” the beauty that surrounds me, and that is pretty cool.
5. I enjoy the solitude of the run. It’s fun to start out with a group of runners, but I really enjoy the alone time offered in the middle and late portions of a trail run when there isn’t anyone around me. It’s a great time to think, or as is sometimes required, to turn off my mind and just focus on what I’m doing.

As the day wore on and I got closer to the finish, I grew increasingly excited to see my husband and daughters at the aid stations along the way. My body was tired, but knowing they were waiting for me kept me moving at a steady shuffle. Maintaining that slow jog helped me catch and pass a number of runners, all of who offered enthusiastic words of encouragement.

Coming into an aid station, excited to see my hubby and the girls.

 I crossed the finish line with my daughters in 10:27:54 (6^th woman, 1^st masters woman). I’m a little sore, but feel much better than expected. Big thanks to my husband, Tony, who pushed food on me at each aid station (who knew potato chips on PB&J would taste so good!), and kept me going with salt, fluids and his amazing smile.

Crossing the finish line with my girls, who wouldn't hug me because I was too sweaty!