In da Club

This post is being brought to you by a convo I found myself in today, and one that I've been in a couple times. I'm surprised in the years I've had this blog I haven't actually composed a post on this yet (though it's quite possible that I have started one and just never got around to finishing it, oops).

Most of the time when I tell people I'm a runner, they ask "oh well what do you run?" (most assuming I'm going to say marathon), then I say 400 hurdles, then the next question is "What school do you run for?" then the even more perplexed look of  'Huh' when I say I'm not in school. Then the long winded explanation that I run for a club and no I don't get paid to torture myself. Then I come across the conversations with the semi-recreational runner, and next thing you know I'm telling them (strongly urging) you should join a club. I get the doubtful response of "Well I don't know, I'm not fast enough", because they know of the club or clubs I have run for boast the elite athlete, Olympians, and the such. They also have this crazy notion that I'm really fast (this is only partially true). So I'm here to give you my fairly elaborate story and bring hopefully some displacement of fears and info to those not in know.

The back story, started running in middle school eons ago, ran throughout high school, walked on the team in college my frosh year, trained that year but didn't compete (red shirted), then quit. This was 2000. Yada yada, got lazy, decided partying and being social butterfly was way more important and didn't run at all for 3 years (I'm sure most of my college friends didn't even know that I at any point of knowing me was a serious runner at any point in my life). Then had to escape that life and moved to Boston. Fast forward to April 2004, my first experience with a marathon ever, not going to lie I really had no clue what a marathon consisted of. From my colleges I was under the impression this was a day for an excuse to day drink. My bartending comrades and I set forth near the finish line to chug back way too many libations. We poked our heads outside to cheer on some of the runners passing by, then it out of no where it happened. This flush of excitement, I felt this insane connection to these people passing by, I wanted to jump over the barriers and run with them. Ignored that crazy feeling and went back in for even more margaritas and shots, then decided I had entirely too much to drink and decided to walk stumble home. It was in that very instance walking by the finish line watching foil wrapped runner after runner passing me by that my eyes started filling with tears (thankfully I had sunglasses to cover this up). Holy crap I REALLY missed running. The very next day I went for a run, then went for run after run. I was hooked again. I signed up for a 5 miler that fall, my first at that distance ever. Threw in a 5K here & there.

Fast forward again to Boston Marathon April 2005. Still using the day to party hard, this time drunk me overcome with those runner emotions went into Niketown and bought a pair of sneakers and then convinced myself I was going to run the 113th Boston Marathon (113th only because 13 is my lucky #). Started making some 5K races a yearly ritual, getting faster each time too. Fast forward to July 2006, signed up for the Iron Girl 5K a few months prior forgot about it (forgot = I started dating someone) and didn't really train for it. Ran a not so shabby time and placed 3rd in my age group. It was at that point I knew I had to do something with my running, if I could run what I ran without any real training, I had some untapped potential I needed to get out. I thought ok, not my first choice but road runner I will be.

That August signed up for my 5 miler again (year #3) and decided if I was going to be a road runner I needed a pair of zippy racing flats to fit the bill. I went to Faneuil Hall to the Bill Rodgers Store (now no longer) to acquire said zippy shoes and while dude went to get my size for the flats I liked, I found myself staring at the spike wall and holding a spike. When he came out he asked if I needed a size to try on for the spikes too, I said no. Then we started to talking about my running past and my missing of the track. He tells me why don't you join a club. At this point I had no idea what club running consisted of. In my mind I thought it was like a book club, where people who like to run got together and ran. Not exactly what I was in the market for. Then he said no that's not it at all and next thing you know with my racing flats I had a business card with a list of coaches and their respective clubs.

It took a few months but eventually I finally went online and looked up each club and emailed the coaches inquiring about the clubs. This was December 2006. Only one coach actually got back to me, it was Greater Boston Track Club. Now at this point I was 6 almost 7 years out of any kind of track shape. I mean don't get me wrong I wasn't a lug, I had been running on a "regular" basis and lifting but I was in no means in any kind of great shape, especially for the track. Even with this I was welcomed aboard no questions or judgement given. The 1st year was a struggle for me as I was certainly the bottom of the chain, I was slow in comparison to the majority. Actually for the next year or so my name always graced the bottom of the performance lists. Thing is while this did bother and frustrate me to no end, my coach never ever once said hey you're the slowest person on the team you should think about quitting. Actually it was the complete opposite he encouraged me and pushed me as well as my fellow teammates who rooted me on no matter whether in my eyes was failing or succeeding. These people became my extended family, some of my greatest friends to this day. When I moved to NYC that was the thing I clung on to hard, I was afraid to leave them and join my current team. Obviously when I realized I couldn't train hard on the track alone and was going to stay in New York, I transferred over to Central Park Track Club and then found another group of amazing training mates/teammates and coach, who in the same have been my big supporters and cheer section, continuously pushing me beyond limits I thought were possible.

For anyone that doubts their "fast enough" running abilities, if my story doesn't compel you to rethink your thoughts on joining a local club team, well I don't know what else to tell you. There are so many options out there for every level, whether you want to stick to the roads, try out the track or just get faster. Don't be afraid to take a chance and check one out. If you don't know where to start, http://www.usatf.org/clubs/search/ will give a list of active clubs near you; email around, check out their websites if they have one, ask to go to a practice with them. You might find your extended family like I did, you might get to those goals you have in the back of your mind that you didn't think could be a possibly, or you could just have tons of fun with a bunch of other like minded "crazies".

Step away from the challenge

Just when I thought that this week was going to be that fly by not so out of the ordinary, nothing exciting weeks where practices were good, weather was normal, everything fit into place, I somehow found myself in a hole on Friday.
Let's start at the beginning, back to 1981. I was born with competitive genes that also intertwine more or less with the perfectionist genes. Back as far as I can remember I have always tried to excel to be the best, whether it was academic or physical. And if I wasn't the best, then I wanted to be my best. I'm always up for a challenge. Though that does tend to makes it harder to back away from a challenge too. Countless times I have been provoked to an array of duels. I can't tell you how many times I've found myself racing down the middle of a street, picking my brain for the bone crushing word in a scrabble match, elbow digging in to a table while trying to pin down another's hand, or even getting lost on a run because I was "chasing" someone down, the stories are endless. The funniest part of most of my challenges is I'm often rarely challenged by my own gender, it's almost always by the opposite sex. I don't categorize myself as a feminist or girl power activist at all but I do often find myself humming the tune "Anything you can do I can do better" which does tend to fuel the fire a little bit.
Tried and true my newest confrontation again comes from the male counterpart. It started from another trainer's client at the gym. This guy comes in a couple days a week and he's always there when I'm there. Where it begins is his complaining. He walks into the trainer's area and starts the hour off moaning and groaning and continues on for the entirety of the hour. I having a sarcastic mouth and have no qualms giving him flack every time for it. Though partly joking, I am partly serious. I mean you pay someone to kick your butt, stop rambling on and just do it. Finally after one of his sessions he smartly replies to me if you think it's so easy and you won't complain than you do one of my workouts with me at the same weight. Not a problem dude, though my only requests to the challenge was it had to be a lower body workout because I do know there was no way I could lift my scrawny upper body at his weight, and that it had to be after my weekly track workout because my practice comes first. Even though I put parameters up I still knew I may be kicking myself after and probably should have just left well enough alone. But being the proud competitive feisty gal I am, I couldn't back down. I was able to lift the weight given to me, just the reps and sets got me. I also might awesomely add I held my plank the longest, a stellar 3 mins. I will say I was feeling the workout within a few hours and that's when I realized that my competitive nature may have slightly bit me in my behind. Did I learn from my mindless act...maybe..walking around rubbing your backside and legs does look a bit weird to the passerby.