I am fortunate to dream often and vividly, enough so that I sometimes confuse my dreams with reality. Some of my dreams have stuck with me for years, memories of things that never really happened, but my memories just the same.
Twice I have died in my dreams, so the myth that if you die in your dreams, you die in real life- is just that. A myth. I did not see the other end of death, just watched it come and that was it.
Last night I dreamed I was snorkeling with my dad in Mexico. We were trying to dive for enough clams to have for dinner. The beach was crowded and good sized clams had already been taken up by many other swimmers. Not far from the shore, the bottom dropped off like a shelf into fairly deep water. I pointed it out to my dad, as there were many more clams down there. He somehow asked about how we get down there since it was so deep. I decided to demonstrate that we could do it, so I dove all the way down and touched the bottom, then turned to return to the surface. I could see his silhouette against the sparkling blue. I was almost out of air, my lungs burned and ached. As I rose to the surface, he started down to give it a try. I was running out of air, my lungs were going to explode.
I woke up.
I've had so many of these dreams in the last ten years, and I am very grateful for them. They feel real, and not out of the ordinary at all. I wake up with a very vivid memory of how it feels to have him by my side, even if we aren't doing anything special. In the ten years since he's been gone, we've worked on my car together, gone fishing, snorkeling, or just hung out around the house. And it feels a little empty when I wake up, but the dream always feels so real that it might as well have been an actual memory. And I'm grateful for the peaceful feeling I get when he's near in my dream, like little respites in the painful reality of his absence.
In those few waking moments before I let reality come back to me, I let the feelings play a little longer. In my mind we snorkeled a little longer, and it was just so great, the way it always had been.
I have snorkeled with my dad in Mexico, when I was a child. He pointed out a huge grouper and it scared the crap out of me because I had never seen a fish so large in my entire life. It was probably about my size at the time. He pointed out a huge clam shell, then motioned for me to wait as he dove down to get it. For years he had it up on his shelf in his house. Each side of the shell was the size of my adult hand.
I have fished with my dad, I have worked on my car with my dad (always with "extra parts").
None of these dreams are so out there that they couldn't have, or never did happen. But they are different enough to be new, and always, I am my adult self in the dreams. They imprint new memories on me, and it feels kinda nice.
He is always the same age.
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Firefighters and Loved Ones
I never intended to date a firefighter. It was my thinking that dating a firefighter, police officer, or soldier, greatly increased the chance of getting that phone call that your loved one was not coming home.
Having been a firefighter for 9 years, I had adjusted to being the one people worried about. It was rare times that I actually worried about myself. Being one of the crew EMT's, I mostly worried about my crew members. When I was experienced enough and qualified, I worried about the small squad of firefighters that I led. But I knew when we were all safe back in the buggy, playing cards or reading books. My family didn't.
Hearing about the many firefighter deaths and serious injuries we've had this year, I wait to hear if it's one of my friends. And I worry about Jason, but try not to. Because I've also been in his shoes and know it's so hard to ease your loved one's worries about you. It's an added stress he doesn't need.
During my second or third year in fire, I experienced my first real fear about my own life. For some reason we were down in a drainage with a lot of dead trees that kept coming down, trying to put out smoldering logs and trees. I didn't know enough to spot the ones most likely to come down. But left and right they came down, accompanied by shouts of warning by everyone near it. No, we shouldn't have been down there. I don't know why we didn't refuse the order. Several days in a row we had been pulled out of there because it was too dangerous, then put back in.
I remember hiking as fast as I could out of the drainage, and it seemed like trees were falling all around me. A more experienced crew member slowed to wait for me. He said to stay away from the trees that looked like they were going to come down. They all looked like they were going to come down.
But there we were, back in the drainage another day. Management wanted the smokes put out. Several of my crew members were above me going to get more hose. There was a loud rumble and crash. Shouts. A panicked voice said over the radio, "Hey that tree just fell on somebody!"
As one of the few EMT's out there, I knew it was my job to get up to help whoever it was. I thought it was one of my guys. They were up there. I felt so much panic that one of my guys had just been killed by a falling tree, I couldn't get up there fast enough. I have never felt so small.
When I got up there, my guys were helping the injured firefighter. It had been my crew member's panicked voice over the radio. A log had rolled loose on the hillside and rolled over the firefighter, causing a concussion and some broken ribs. But he would be fine.
One of the first-year guys on the crew looked over at me and said "This is one of those times you don't tell your family about, isn't it?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My first year, my very first off-forest assignment, was in the Mojave desert, just north of Idyllwild, one of my dad's favorite places. It was an exciting time for me. I had been driven up to meet with my engine crew that had left without me on my days off. I sat at camp waiting for them to return and watched the fire blow up around camp. I called my dad all excited and told him it was "rippin".
"What does that mean?" He asked.
"It's burning all over the place!"
I spent the day helping out in Plans and even got to do a recon helicopter flight over the fire to make a better map of the perimeter. My first helicopter ride!
That same season, we were back for another fire, this one coming out of Idyllwild. We parked our engines in the tram parking lot where I had been with my dad many times, and we waited and watched to be sure it didn't cross the lot and head off towards Palm Springs.
I called my dad to let him know where I was and told him we were keeping the fire from going in to Palm Springs. I thought he would be excited, because here I was in the tram parking lot, saving the area he loved so much. How cool was that?
A couple minutes after getting off the phone with him, my phone rang again. This time it was Christa.
"What did you say to your dad?"
"Why? What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well he's sitting here crying..."
I heard my dad in the background, "I am not!!"
Yes, there would be plenty of days I would not tell my family about.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I watched the interviews with the wives of Granite Mountain Hotshots, listening to their stories of tragic loss. I read the incident report, which included short autopsies of the men who died.
But I was on that end. I had been in practice shelters so many times, and real shelters for practice. We would do practice deployments on the hottest days, after running up our training hill. We'd pull our shelters out of our gear, toss our packs and run, shouting to each other to hurry, go faster, deploy there, get in a circle or a line. We'd shake out our shelters, get a foot in, pull it over our heads as we hit the ground, yelling at everyone to get in.
When we were all in, we'd suck in the hot, dry air, making sure there were no cracks in the seal we had with the ground, trying to get sips of water out of the canteen we brought in the shelter with us, trying to catch our breaths, as crew members shouted numbers, names, trying to get a head count and figure out where everyone was.
Sometimes we'd have to move like worms because the "fire" was now coming from the other direction, but you have to do it without letting your shelter lose contact with the ground. Supervisors would grab our shelters and give it a shake, making sure we had it tight to the ground.
Inevitably, it would get quiet. We all just wanted to breathe. It was so hot in those things. Maybe it was 90 degrees outside. Our supervisors would leave us in there for awhile, to give us an idea of the discomfort we would feel in a real fire...when it was at least several hundred degrees out. I felt bad for those who were claustrophobic. Me, I was just glad to not have to be running up that damn hill anymore. My lungs were burning.
Granite Mountain hit close to home for us. We had been on many "staff rides" for fatality fires. While reading Granite Mountain's incident report, Mitch said to me, "On all those staff rides, I always wondered if I would've been one of the ones that died. But on this one, I know I would've."
They all died. All but one, the lookout. Mitch was a very strong hiker, on the lead saw team. He could out-hike any of us. He would've survived most of the fatality fires we'd been to. He would not have survived this one. He was not experienced enough to have been made a lookout, and he was a strong sawyer, he was needed on the ground. I probably would not have survived. Though I had been a lookout on plenty of fires, when the fires were this bad, we generally put our squad leader as a lookout.
The report talked about how their packs melted, their helmets melted. It mentioned proof of certain temperatures around where they lay. "Human tenability." The phrase will stick with me forever. They could tell the temperatures the deployment site had reached by the condition of the men who lay there.
I watched the interviews with the wives and felt great sorrow. My perspective from under a practice fire shelter did not afford me shelter from the reality of what these families were facing. I felt I could not endure what they now had to endure. The moments of trying to find out if their loved ones were ok. The moment they found out they were not, and all the moments after.
I wondered if I would survive my last season on the crew.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There were times we did things that didn't make sense. There were times we did things just to ease the public's minds. There were times we did things out of convenience of not wanting to be there weeks later, fighting the same fire. There were times we did things because another hotshot crew was doing it, and we needed to be just as tough.
There were times I wondered, were we just lucky? I still wonder. I still don't have the answer, and maybe I never will.
But I don't have to worry about me now. I will never deploy a fire shelter on a real fire. I will never burn to death. I will never have to know how it all compares to being in a practice shelter.
Now I worry about Jason. I worry about the amazing friends I made during my time in fire. I wait to hear their names on the news. And I know there is nothing I can do about it.
But now the voices of those women who lost their husbands take a different tone in my mind. Recently the Wildland Firefighter Foundation posted a photo of Prescott Fire Department escorting one of Granite Mountain's sons to his first day of school. He looks happy and excited to be so honored. His mom's head is down and her face looks strained. The gesture is so touching, but the reason it is happening is too much for her to bear. But she's trying to be strong for her son.
Time does not heal all wounds.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Please consider donating to the Wildland Firefighter Foundation. They provide assistance to injured firefighters and their families, as well as to families of deceased firefighters. They pay for and organize travel to bring loved ones to their injured or killed firefighters, help with medical costs and provide ongoing support for those who have lost loved ones.
Having been a firefighter for 9 years, I had adjusted to being the one people worried about. It was rare times that I actually worried about myself. Being one of the crew EMT's, I mostly worried about my crew members. When I was experienced enough and qualified, I worried about the small squad of firefighters that I led. But I knew when we were all safe back in the buggy, playing cards or reading books. My family didn't.
Hearing about the many firefighter deaths and serious injuries we've had this year, I wait to hear if it's one of my friends. And I worry about Jason, but try not to. Because I've also been in his shoes and know it's so hard to ease your loved one's worries about you. It's an added stress he doesn't need.
During my second or third year in fire, I experienced my first real fear about my own life. For some reason we were down in a drainage with a lot of dead trees that kept coming down, trying to put out smoldering logs and trees. I didn't know enough to spot the ones most likely to come down. But left and right they came down, accompanied by shouts of warning by everyone near it. No, we shouldn't have been down there. I don't know why we didn't refuse the order. Several days in a row we had been pulled out of there because it was too dangerous, then put back in.
I remember hiking as fast as I could out of the drainage, and it seemed like trees were falling all around me. A more experienced crew member slowed to wait for me. He said to stay away from the trees that looked like they were going to come down. They all looked like they were going to come down.
But there we were, back in the drainage another day. Management wanted the smokes put out. Several of my crew members were above me going to get more hose. There was a loud rumble and crash. Shouts. A panicked voice said over the radio, "Hey that tree just fell on somebody!"
As one of the few EMT's out there, I knew it was my job to get up to help whoever it was. I thought it was one of my guys. They were up there. I felt so much panic that one of my guys had just been killed by a falling tree, I couldn't get up there fast enough. I have never felt so small.
When I got up there, my guys were helping the injured firefighter. It had been my crew member's panicked voice over the radio. A log had rolled loose on the hillside and rolled over the firefighter, causing a concussion and some broken ribs. But he would be fine.
One of the first-year guys on the crew looked over at me and said "This is one of those times you don't tell your family about, isn't it?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My first year, my very first off-forest assignment, was in the Mojave desert, just north of Idyllwild, one of my dad's favorite places. It was an exciting time for me. I had been driven up to meet with my engine crew that had left without me on my days off. I sat at camp waiting for them to return and watched the fire blow up around camp. I called my dad all excited and told him it was "rippin".
"What does that mean?" He asked.
"It's burning all over the place!"
I spent the day helping out in Plans and even got to do a recon helicopter flight over the fire to make a better map of the perimeter. My first helicopter ride!
That same season, we were back for another fire, this one coming out of Idyllwild. We parked our engines in the tram parking lot where I had been with my dad many times, and we waited and watched to be sure it didn't cross the lot and head off towards Palm Springs.
I called my dad to let him know where I was and told him we were keeping the fire from going in to Palm Springs. I thought he would be excited, because here I was in the tram parking lot, saving the area he loved so much. How cool was that?
A couple minutes after getting off the phone with him, my phone rang again. This time it was Christa.
"What did you say to your dad?"
"Why? What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well he's sitting here crying..."
I heard my dad in the background, "I am not!!"
Yes, there would be plenty of days I would not tell my family about.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I watched the interviews with the wives of Granite Mountain Hotshots, listening to their stories of tragic loss. I read the incident report, which included short autopsies of the men who died.
But I was on that end. I had been in practice shelters so many times, and real shelters for practice. We would do practice deployments on the hottest days, after running up our training hill. We'd pull our shelters out of our gear, toss our packs and run, shouting to each other to hurry, go faster, deploy there, get in a circle or a line. We'd shake out our shelters, get a foot in, pull it over our heads as we hit the ground, yelling at everyone to get in.
When we were all in, we'd suck in the hot, dry air, making sure there were no cracks in the seal we had with the ground, trying to get sips of water out of the canteen we brought in the shelter with us, trying to catch our breaths, as crew members shouted numbers, names, trying to get a head count and figure out where everyone was.
Sometimes we'd have to move like worms because the "fire" was now coming from the other direction, but you have to do it without letting your shelter lose contact with the ground. Supervisors would grab our shelters and give it a shake, making sure we had it tight to the ground.
Inevitably, it would get quiet. We all just wanted to breathe. It was so hot in those things. Maybe it was 90 degrees outside. Our supervisors would leave us in there for awhile, to give us an idea of the discomfort we would feel in a real fire...when it was at least several hundred degrees out. I felt bad for those who were claustrophobic. Me, I was just glad to not have to be running up that damn hill anymore. My lungs were burning.
Granite Mountain hit close to home for us. We had been on many "staff rides" for fatality fires. While reading Granite Mountain's incident report, Mitch said to me, "On all those staff rides, I always wondered if I would've been one of the ones that died. But on this one, I know I would've."
They all died. All but one, the lookout. Mitch was a very strong hiker, on the lead saw team. He could out-hike any of us. He would've survived most of the fatality fires we'd been to. He would not have survived this one. He was not experienced enough to have been made a lookout, and he was a strong sawyer, he was needed on the ground. I probably would not have survived. Though I had been a lookout on plenty of fires, when the fires were this bad, we generally put our squad leader as a lookout.
The report talked about how their packs melted, their helmets melted. It mentioned proof of certain temperatures around where they lay. "Human tenability." The phrase will stick with me forever. They could tell the temperatures the deployment site had reached by the condition of the men who lay there.
I watched the interviews with the wives and felt great sorrow. My perspective from under a practice fire shelter did not afford me shelter from the reality of what these families were facing. I felt I could not endure what they now had to endure. The moments of trying to find out if their loved ones were ok. The moment they found out they were not, and all the moments after.
I wondered if I would survive my last season on the crew.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There were times we did things that didn't make sense. There were times we did things just to ease the public's minds. There were times we did things out of convenience of not wanting to be there weeks later, fighting the same fire. There were times we did things because another hotshot crew was doing it, and we needed to be just as tough.
There were times I wondered, were we just lucky? I still wonder. I still don't have the answer, and maybe I never will.
But I don't have to worry about me now. I will never deploy a fire shelter on a real fire. I will never burn to death. I will never have to know how it all compares to being in a practice shelter.
Now I worry about Jason. I worry about the amazing friends I made during my time in fire. I wait to hear their names on the news. And I know there is nothing I can do about it.
But now the voices of those women who lost their husbands take a different tone in my mind. Recently the Wildland Firefighter Foundation posted a photo of Prescott Fire Department escorting one of Granite Mountain's sons to his first day of school. He looks happy and excited to be so honored. His mom's head is down and her face looks strained. The gesture is so touching, but the reason it is happening is too much for her to bear. But she's trying to be strong for her son.
Time does not heal all wounds.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Please consider donating to the Wildland Firefighter Foundation. They provide assistance to injured firefighters and their families, as well as to families of deceased firefighters. They pay for and organize travel to bring loved ones to their injured or killed firefighters, help with medical costs and provide ongoing support for those who have lost loved ones.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
The trouble is...
The problem with afternoon workouts is this: it's 4 hours until bedtime and I'm torn between an hour of Hot Vinyasa or opening up a bottle of wine.
An hour ago, the Vinyasa was winning. I would feel amazing as I always do after yoga, and proud for having gone. Now that I would have to leave soon to get there on time, I realize that a glass of wine or two might be just as therapeutic. And in order for the wine not to sabotage my sleep, I have to drink it several hours before bedtime. Otherwise I will wake up just 2-3 hours after going to bed and not be able to get back to sleep.
I did work out today. I did leg weights and then 18 minutes on the treadmill in my barefoot shoes. You can't just go out and run in those things. You have to train your feet to handle the lack of support.
It's day I-don't-know-what of having absolutely no schedule or routine and it's pretty rough. Christmas Abbott inspired me to get out of bed this morning and go to the gym. Here she is:
I mean really, if that doesn't inspire you to work out, I don't know what will.
Ugh, I should do yoga.
Nonononono.
I do yoga because it makes me feel good, and increases my flexibility. I've got terrible flexibility. Especially in my hips and calves.
Maybe I'll start my routine when my class schedule starts up next week.
I just texted Shelly and asked if having a couple glasses of wine was the same as doing yoga. She said it is. I think I'm in the clear.
Wine it is!
An hour ago, the Vinyasa was winning. I would feel amazing as I always do after yoga, and proud for having gone. Now that I would have to leave soon to get there on time, I realize that a glass of wine or two might be just as therapeutic. And in order for the wine not to sabotage my sleep, I have to drink it several hours before bedtime. Otherwise I will wake up just 2-3 hours after going to bed and not be able to get back to sleep.
I did work out today. I did leg weights and then 18 minutes on the treadmill in my barefoot shoes. You can't just go out and run in those things. You have to train your feet to handle the lack of support.
It's day I-don't-know-what of having absolutely no schedule or routine and it's pretty rough. Christmas Abbott inspired me to get out of bed this morning and go to the gym. Here she is:
I mean really, if that doesn't inspire you to work out, I don't know what will.
Ugh, I should do yoga.
Nonononono.
I do yoga because it makes me feel good, and increases my flexibility. I've got terrible flexibility. Especially in my hips and calves.
Maybe I'll start my routine when my class schedule starts up next week.
I just texted Shelly and asked if having a couple glasses of wine was the same as doing yoga. She said it is. I think I'm in the clear.
Wine it is!
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Commitment-phobe
My name is Carrie and I am a commitment-phobe. After having been hurt and let down so many times, how could I expect myself to fall in love and commit myself so easily ever again?
It's probably not what you think. I'm talking about running shoes. If you are an avid runner who goes through more than one pair per year, you know what I'm talking about.
Running shoe manufacturers update their shoes so often, I can't figure out if I even like a shoe before they've discontinued it and "upgraded" to the newest version. So the best plan of attack is to quickly figure out if you like the shoe or not, and if so, buy ten pairs.
I went in to Road Runner Sports today to return a pair of shoes that was not even close to being "the one". It didn't make it past a 5 minute trial in my living room. The last time I went in, I was torn between two pairs. I must have run several miles in each on their treadmill to compare the two. The sales lady suggested I get them both. After all, if you buy two, you get ten dollars off the second pair. I wasn't going to fall for that.
I really like (maybe love?) my current pair of shoes, but I'm feeling an inkling of plantar fasciitis, which was creeping up in my left foot long before these shoes, and now is hinting at maybe showing up in my right foot. I've put a little over 100 miles on these shoes so far. I have the option of adding the stupidly expensive insoles that Road Runner also sold me last time (I could've bought that second pair of shoes) to try that out. My feet do not like orthotics. But somewhere there must be a compromise.
Anyway, I went back today to see about exchanging the reject shoes for that second pair I liked last time. Well....they've already phased out, but I can still buy them online.
We sat and discussed the ridiculous situation that is the running shoe industry. She said a couple just came in a few days ago and each bought (each!!!) ten pairs of the Saucony Kinvara's because they knew an "upgrade" was coming and they like the current pair. That adds up to a couple thousand dollars folks. Although if they do a lot of mileage, ten pairs might last them two years. That's not that long.
Fortunately I am not a high mileage runner, so my shoes last a little longer if we're talking about calendar year. But the bad thing about that is that when I decide I love a shoe, it's already gone. And when I say they "upgrade" a shoe, I mean they drastically change something that didn't need to be changed. Just once I would like a shoe company to continue selling the same version for years on end. Why do they have to keep messing with things?
My dilemma is this (and it is ALWAYS this): do I love my current shoe enough to buy several pair? That is committing my feet to hundreds of miles in the same structure of shoe. What if they are actually contributing to my mild plantar fasciitis? What if they are keeping it at bay? (I mean, it was there before and it hasn't really gotten any worse...it just hasn't gone away either.) What if they are perfect for me and I'm squeamish about committing and then they are gone and it's too late?
If you're not a runner, you might wonder how important all of this really is. Well, I will tell you. The wrong shoes can completely sideline you or take you out of running forever. Granted, I am definitely not going down that road right now or I would've known it long before I reached 100 miles on these shoes (I think?). The wrong shoes can steal your dreams of qualifying for the New York Marathon. They can leave you irritable and angry as you desperately try to come up with some sort of swimming exercise that will take away your daily angst like running does. They will make you gain weight as you attempt to eat your way through your injured athlete syndrome with cupcakes and mochi ice cream.
I've been all these places. I know.
Long story short, the wrong running shoes can do catastrophic damage to a runner. Yes, this is serious. And Google had nothing to say on the matter. I am a ship lost at sea.
So I just dropped $175 (after $20 off) on buying both a second pair of my current shoes and a pair of the shoes I tried on last time that I was so torn between.
Sigh. We shall see.
It's probably not what you think. I'm talking about running shoes. If you are an avid runner who goes through more than one pair per year, you know what I'm talking about.
Running shoe manufacturers update their shoes so often, I can't figure out if I even like a shoe before they've discontinued it and "upgraded" to the newest version. So the best plan of attack is to quickly figure out if you like the shoe or not, and if so, buy ten pairs.
I went in to Road Runner Sports today to return a pair of shoes that was not even close to being "the one". It didn't make it past a 5 minute trial in my living room. The last time I went in, I was torn between two pairs. I must have run several miles in each on their treadmill to compare the two. The sales lady suggested I get them both. After all, if you buy two, you get ten dollars off the second pair. I wasn't going to fall for that.
I really like (maybe love?) my current pair of shoes, but I'm feeling an inkling of plantar fasciitis, which was creeping up in my left foot long before these shoes, and now is hinting at maybe showing up in my right foot. I've put a little over 100 miles on these shoes so far. I have the option of adding the stupidly expensive insoles that Road Runner also sold me last time (I could've bought that second pair of shoes) to try that out. My feet do not like orthotics. But somewhere there must be a compromise.
Anyway, I went back today to see about exchanging the reject shoes for that second pair I liked last time. Well....they've already phased out, but I can still buy them online.
We sat and discussed the ridiculous situation that is the running shoe industry. She said a couple just came in a few days ago and each bought (each!!!) ten pairs of the Saucony Kinvara's because they knew an "upgrade" was coming and they like the current pair. That adds up to a couple thousand dollars folks. Although if they do a lot of mileage, ten pairs might last them two years. That's not that long.
Fortunately I am not a high mileage runner, so my shoes last a little longer if we're talking about calendar year. But the bad thing about that is that when I decide I love a shoe, it's already gone. And when I say they "upgrade" a shoe, I mean they drastically change something that didn't need to be changed. Just once I would like a shoe company to continue selling the same version for years on end. Why do they have to keep messing with things?
My dilemma is this (and it is ALWAYS this): do I love my current shoe enough to buy several pair? That is committing my feet to hundreds of miles in the same structure of shoe. What if they are actually contributing to my mild plantar fasciitis? What if they are keeping it at bay? (I mean, it was there before and it hasn't really gotten any worse...it just hasn't gone away either.) What if they are perfect for me and I'm squeamish about committing and then they are gone and it's too late?
If you're not a runner, you might wonder how important all of this really is. Well, I will tell you. The wrong shoes can completely sideline you or take you out of running forever. Granted, I am definitely not going down that road right now or I would've known it long before I reached 100 miles on these shoes (I think?). The wrong shoes can steal your dreams of qualifying for the New York Marathon. They can leave you irritable and angry as you desperately try to come up with some sort of swimming exercise that will take away your daily angst like running does. They will make you gain weight as you attempt to eat your way through your injured athlete syndrome with cupcakes and mochi ice cream.
I've been all these places. I know.
Long story short, the wrong running shoes can do catastrophic damage to a runner. Yes, this is serious. And Google had nothing to say on the matter. I am a ship lost at sea.
So I just dropped $175 (after $20 off) on buying both a second pair of my current shoes and a pair of the shoes I tried on last time that I was so torn between.
Sigh. We shall see.
Monday, August 3, 2015
2015 Training Season Underway!
Today was the first day of the new training season. In 18 weeks, I will run my first marathon since Boston 2014 (April). Not that I didn't have a marathon planned since then (only one), but my body didn't make it to the marathon. I spent the majority of 2014 injured, starting with that fateful day back in February, 3 days after having a kick-ass half marathon. The day when, after 3 days of having a nagging feeling that I should be doing some light exercise to loosen up my muscles, I instead paddled out into the freezing ocean on my surfboard and proceeded to tear my hamstring. One popular question when discussing the incident has been "Are you a short boarder?" No. I am not. I was merely standing up.
Bygones.
My physical therapist and doctor nursed me back to health so I could run Boston. I think they were more excited about it than I was. But after running Boston, I decided I must be fully healed and able to tackle the next one, after all, I had just run a marathon. That didn't work so well.
So my number one goal this season is to not get injured. You might think this is an easy task. Just don't do too much too soon, and don't do anything stupid (like surf in cold water when your muscles are stiff from a race).
But injuries can strike at any moment. Runners (and other athletes) feel twinges of "something" fairly often, and have to decide whether it's a passing thing, or something to pay attention to. I have personally become both paranoid and in denial about every single thing I feel. To the point that I will most likely not know when something is about to be an injury.
I had my feet and gait analyzed during a recent Road Runner Sports trip. A couple years ago I switched to neutral shoes on a whim. And my life improved dramatically (so did my running). However, there is also this little nerve issue on the bottom of my left foot. My doctor said to wear stability shoes. I tried switching back and got terrible IT Band inflammation and nearly broken ligaments in my foot.
At Road Runner Sports, they look at how your weight is distributed on your feet when you stand, and then record you running barefoot on the treadmill. I have really high arches, that are also very flexible. In my personal opinion, this is the perfect type of foot to run with. They make for great shock absorbers as they collapse down and spring back up. My achilles tendon stays in perfect alignment, demonstrating strong ankle ligaments and tendons.
My foot structure and running gait call for a neutral shoe. I knew I wasn't being a retard about this. Neutral shoes just feel right on me. But in order to minimize some of the arch movement, they recommended a very expensive custom molded arch support. Why does everyone insist on trying to control the natural movement of my foot?
I gave them a try for a couple runs. My left foot would not tolerate it. I put them in my gym shoes. My feet do not like to be controlled. They are very strong willed.
Anyway, moral of the story: I'm hoping my current shoe selection is the right one.
I've been very conservative about increasing my mileage. To the point of embarrassment. I don't like to tell my running friends my current mileage because no self-respecting marathon runner has such a low mileage. Anyway, it'll get up there eventually. I've never been a high mileage runner. My peak this season will be around 40 miles a week, with most of the season being in the 30's range. Any attempt to be high mileage runner has been met with great resistance by several parts of my body (and soul). But then again, I never did so great on high yardage as a swimmer either.
So, I've put together a training plan I feel pretty confident with, adapted from Jack Daniels (the running coach, not the drink). On today's schedule was what is called a threshold run. These are the runs I believe in the most, as far as getting faster at distance running. Threshold runs help teach your body to clear blood lactate from your system faster, improve your endurance, and improve the speed you can maintain for a relatively long time. They are basically run between 88 and 90% of your max heart rate. So think effort. Any time I see effort above 75%, I just cringe. There's a reason why I'm better at distance.
My goal pace for threshold runs is currently 7:25 per mile, which is a hard pace for me, but certainly not a sprint. Over the course of this 18 week training cycle, that goal pace will increase to 7:17, and then 7:09 in the last 6 weeks. That is slightly terrifying, but also very exciting.
Today I did two easy miles, then two miles aiming for that threshold pace, and then one more mile easy. My first threshold mile was 7:21, so I aimed to do the next one slightly more relaxed, but about the same effort, hoping to slow it down slightly but not too much. My second one was 7:08. Oops. That didn't slow down at all.
Two miles is a little short for a threshold run, but I'm trying not to stress my body too much too soon. Those will increase over the next few weeks and I'll be able to settle the pace a bit.
I'll be running in the USA Invitational Half Marathon in San Diego in late November, and my goal for that race will be a 1:36, which is 7:20 per mile. Just a few weeks later I'll be running the California International Marathon where my goal is 3:21, a 7:40 pace.
It's exciting to be back into a serious training program, as it's been awhile. School starts back up again in 16 days, so I'll be back into a routine by then.... and of course might have to adjust things to handle the work load.
This is my year!
Bygones.
My physical therapist and doctor nursed me back to health so I could run Boston. I think they were more excited about it than I was. But after running Boston, I decided I must be fully healed and able to tackle the next one, after all, I had just run a marathon. That didn't work so well.
So my number one goal this season is to not get injured. You might think this is an easy task. Just don't do too much too soon, and don't do anything stupid (like surf in cold water when your muscles are stiff from a race).
But injuries can strike at any moment. Runners (and other athletes) feel twinges of "something" fairly often, and have to decide whether it's a passing thing, or something to pay attention to. I have personally become both paranoid and in denial about every single thing I feel. To the point that I will most likely not know when something is about to be an injury.
I had my feet and gait analyzed during a recent Road Runner Sports trip. A couple years ago I switched to neutral shoes on a whim. And my life improved dramatically (so did my running). However, there is also this little nerve issue on the bottom of my left foot. My doctor said to wear stability shoes. I tried switching back and got terrible IT Band inflammation and nearly broken ligaments in my foot.
At Road Runner Sports, they look at how your weight is distributed on your feet when you stand, and then record you running barefoot on the treadmill. I have really high arches, that are also very flexible. In my personal opinion, this is the perfect type of foot to run with. They make for great shock absorbers as they collapse down and spring back up. My achilles tendon stays in perfect alignment, demonstrating strong ankle ligaments and tendons.
My foot structure and running gait call for a neutral shoe. I knew I wasn't being a retard about this. Neutral shoes just feel right on me. But in order to minimize some of the arch movement, they recommended a very expensive custom molded arch support. Why does everyone insist on trying to control the natural movement of my foot?
I gave them a try for a couple runs. My left foot would not tolerate it. I put them in my gym shoes. My feet do not like to be controlled. They are very strong willed.
Anyway, moral of the story: I'm hoping my current shoe selection is the right one.
I've been very conservative about increasing my mileage. To the point of embarrassment. I don't like to tell my running friends my current mileage because no self-respecting marathon runner has such a low mileage. Anyway, it'll get up there eventually. I've never been a high mileage runner. My peak this season will be around 40 miles a week, with most of the season being in the 30's range. Any attempt to be high mileage runner has been met with great resistance by several parts of my body (and soul). But then again, I never did so great on high yardage as a swimmer either.
So, I've put together a training plan I feel pretty confident with, adapted from Jack Daniels (the running coach, not the drink). On today's schedule was what is called a threshold run. These are the runs I believe in the most, as far as getting faster at distance running. Threshold runs help teach your body to clear blood lactate from your system faster, improve your endurance, and improve the speed you can maintain for a relatively long time. They are basically run between 88 and 90% of your max heart rate. So think effort. Any time I see effort above 75%, I just cringe. There's a reason why I'm better at distance.
My goal pace for threshold runs is currently 7:25 per mile, which is a hard pace for me, but certainly not a sprint. Over the course of this 18 week training cycle, that goal pace will increase to 7:17, and then 7:09 in the last 6 weeks. That is slightly terrifying, but also very exciting.
Today I did two easy miles, then two miles aiming for that threshold pace, and then one more mile easy. My first threshold mile was 7:21, so I aimed to do the next one slightly more relaxed, but about the same effort, hoping to slow it down slightly but not too much. My second one was 7:08. Oops. That didn't slow down at all.
Two miles is a little short for a threshold run, but I'm trying not to stress my body too much too soon. Those will increase over the next few weeks and I'll be able to settle the pace a bit.
I'll be running in the USA Invitational Half Marathon in San Diego in late November, and my goal for that race will be a 1:36, which is 7:20 per mile. Just a few weeks later I'll be running the California International Marathon where my goal is 3:21, a 7:40 pace.
It's exciting to be back into a serious training program, as it's been awhile. School starts back up again in 16 days, so I'll be back into a routine by then.... and of course might have to adjust things to handle the work load.
This is my year!
Saturday, August 1, 2015
In my own skin
Perhaps some people are meant to walk the world alone, and I wonder if I will always be that person. Understand, that frequently affords me more benefits than heartache. I rarely have to make compromises, although maybe that has spoiled me.
I wonder how I acquired this characteristic of taking what I want, working towards a goal and achieving it- choosing a path and running with it. I don't believe I have ever been wishy washy. If I want to do something, I do it. Mind you that does not necessarily mean things came easy, because they did not. But I guess I just don't think twice about the work and the sacrifices, because if it's worth doing, you just have to give it your all.
I walked out of the movie theater today, making my way through the crowd of shoppers, and it occurred to me that I was under dressed. I felt out of place in this upscale environment I suddenly found myself in. Everyone was dressed up, couples danced in an outdoor restaurant patio, another restaurant had a line out the door of people dressed to the nines.
I was my own movie date, I bought myself a bouquet of flowers yesterday (and received an edible arrangement today!). If you want to assure you'll have flowers on your birthday, just buy them. Don't wait for someone to do it for you.
"Don't be ordinary", Shelly told me years ago, although I forget the rest of the conversation.
Me being alone on my birthday is my own doing, and nothing new. I left San Diego (home) years ago, chasing some part of me that needed to wander. But maybe it's because no matter how far away I roam, I will always have a home to run to. I will always have loved ones standing by, welcoming me for Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, a weekend, or just because. And so my bravery may very well be based on the knowledge of my safety net. Go forth and do brave things, for we are never far from home.
And my heart longs to wander- and I mentioned Jerusalem to Jason, and he said "We'll see, I don't know if I'll have enough money by then." And it made me pause, because I just assumed I would somehow make it work, but other people don't think that way.
So maybe I get a little sad when I travel alone, buy my own flowers, take myself to the movies, and put together a delicious dinner to go with a great glass of wine....to enjoy all by myself. But in reality, I will always go and do the things I want to do, even if it's by myself, even while in a relationship. I am thankful that I am not one to be uncomfortable to eat alone in a restaurant- otherwise how would I have eaten while traveling alone? I am not afraid to go off into strange places by myself- how could I have been to such amazing places?
So yes, I will always trek on. With or without someone. I will not hold off exploring the world simply because I don't want to do it alone. I will embrace uncertainty. As my "body metrics" told me at the Tech Museum- I am a confident doer. I will just keep going forth and doing. Whatever that may be.
I wonder how I acquired this characteristic of taking what I want, working towards a goal and achieving it- choosing a path and running with it. I don't believe I have ever been wishy washy. If I want to do something, I do it. Mind you that does not necessarily mean things came easy, because they did not. But I guess I just don't think twice about the work and the sacrifices, because if it's worth doing, you just have to give it your all.
I walked out of the movie theater today, making my way through the crowd of shoppers, and it occurred to me that I was under dressed. I felt out of place in this upscale environment I suddenly found myself in. Everyone was dressed up, couples danced in an outdoor restaurant patio, another restaurant had a line out the door of people dressed to the nines.
I was my own movie date, I bought myself a bouquet of flowers yesterday (and received an edible arrangement today!). If you want to assure you'll have flowers on your birthday, just buy them. Don't wait for someone to do it for you.
"Don't be ordinary", Shelly told me years ago, although I forget the rest of the conversation.
Me being alone on my birthday is my own doing, and nothing new. I left San Diego (home) years ago, chasing some part of me that needed to wander. But maybe it's because no matter how far away I roam, I will always have a home to run to. I will always have loved ones standing by, welcoming me for Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, a weekend, or just because. And so my bravery may very well be based on the knowledge of my safety net. Go forth and do brave things, for we are never far from home.
And my heart longs to wander- and I mentioned Jerusalem to Jason, and he said "We'll see, I don't know if I'll have enough money by then." And it made me pause, because I just assumed I would somehow make it work, but other people don't think that way.
So maybe I get a little sad when I travel alone, buy my own flowers, take myself to the movies, and put together a delicious dinner to go with a great glass of wine....to enjoy all by myself. But in reality, I will always go and do the things I want to do, even if it's by myself, even while in a relationship. I am thankful that I am not one to be uncomfortable to eat alone in a restaurant- otherwise how would I have eaten while traveling alone? I am not afraid to go off into strange places by myself- how could I have been to such amazing places?
So yes, I will always trek on. With or without someone. I will not hold off exploring the world simply because I don't want to do it alone. I will embrace uncertainty. As my "body metrics" told me at the Tech Museum- I am a confident doer. I will just keep going forth and doing. Whatever that may be.
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