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".

Heavy Heart

I woke up this morning exhausted from the weekend festivities but incredibly grateful for the insanely amazing things that were happening in my life at that very moment. I trained my client, then on the bus ride home started thinking about the Boston Marathon, I had a number of friends, current teammates from CPTC and old teammates from GBTC racing. I always get this crazy excitement when Boston comes around, even though I'm not a marthoner, nor have plans in any near future to become one (I won't say never). Did a quick social media wish to everyone, then got home to try and tackle my taxes (because I'm the queen procrastination and had to wait til the last minute to file). Of course I passed out as soon I got home, prolonging my tasks, then as I woke up the marathon top finishers started to roll towards the finish so I HAD to refresh twitter 20 thousand times to follow what was going on (since the marathon wasn't televised in NY), again prolonging looming tax tasks. Finally I put the phone down to start on the dread, didn't get too far before I was on my phone again playing in twitter land(yes a little bit obsessed).

 Then something happened, I started to see some disturbing tweets and photos. I wasn't sure if I was really reading what I was reading. Is this for real? Two explosions went off at the finish line of the Marathon? This can't be real? Then the tweets started coming in from reputable sources and they were coming in at an alarming rate. I felt my stomach tighten, and my heart feel like it was about to explode. Holy crap this is REAL! I didn't know what to do. I sat in my bed looking in disbelief at one particular photo and the constant tweets on my phone. In my lifetime so many devastating tragedies have hit, and all have saddened me. But this one hit home, really really close to home, too close to home. Home as in my running community, where the heart of my soul lives. Home as where I call where I'm from, Boston whether I'm near or far will always be the home of my heart. Home as where I had countless friends there running and cheering, where had I not had to work and race my own meet this past weekend would have been there cheering. Home. Home. I just couldn't. 

Only an hour before was thinking about the amazement of Kara Goucher asking how her friend/training partner Shalane Flanagan finished as soon as she crossed the line. Thinking about my own past training partners and how much they made an impact on me and really wishing I had that right now. Thinking about how resilient anyone that runs for 26.2 miles is, I have great respect for them. Thinking about how excited I was about my own 2 PRs I broke on Saturday. Thinking about all the crazy happiness I was experiencing. Then BAM how, why, what! I couldn't wrap my head around the events. I started sending out tweets, facebook posts and texts to anyone I knew that either lives there now or may have been in town. Slowly and thankfully I started to see that people were safe. But even with that security, my heart still sat in my stomach, all I wanted to do was hop on a bus to Boston and hug every single friend I know there. All I could think about were the people and their families that were injured/killed from this senseless act. All I could think about is could I possibly know someone that was right where the explosions went off. All I could do is pray, hope for the best. I felt lost, confused, I still do. 

In the light of the devastation I will remember runners are one big family, no matter where we are in the sport, novice, elite, sprinters, jumpers, mid-distance, distance and road. We are truly a resilient bunch, I mean put our bodies through some serious torture for so many reasons. We are crazy (in a good way). I will remember only yesterday watching and cheering on an empowering field of fierce ladies run the More Fitness Half in Central Park.  I will take out my old Greater Boston Track Club gear and wear it in unity for today's tragedy, even though I no longer compete for them. I will continue to run despite my heavy heart. I will continue after my running goals. I will remember the happiness running brings. I will unite as a runner. I will find solace in my sport. I will remember why I run.