Diary of a Mad Girl Runner

Hilariously, I'm writing a post about making time for running during a week where, uh, I have no time really to run. Well, that's not true; it's mostly because I'm a creature of habit and struggle to run when I'm not at home, and this week involves a lot of traveling for me. Lisa Ling goes for runs in the most dangerous of countries when she's on assignment; I don't know about the rest of us, but I personally prefer to not go for five mile runs in the Gaza Strip. I'm just lazy like that.

But if you're struggling to just keep on top of your running schedule, there's a simple way to make sure you stay consistent: keep a running diary. I'm not saying you go out and buy a leather bound journal and scribble down your every waking emotion about running ("Dear Diary, today I thought about my long run and wanted to slowly gouge my eye out with a spork"). If you use the calendar app on your iPhone, you can set a reminder for yourself on the days you plan to run. However, if you're a weirdo like me and like to use an actual desk planner, the physical act of writing down your mileage can be both cathartic and useful. You don't need to spend money on specified "Runner's Journals"; a blank wall calendar is all you really need.

When I started training for my half marathon, I planned out my weekly training schedule, including when I'd go to the gym for weight training. At the end of each week, I'd tally my mileage in the notes column. This was extremely soothing to my inner OCD that loves seeing results on paper. What's more, I was able to go back a month later and see my progress, especially when I started logging my time for my long runs. You will get frustrated and stressed out, but let me assure you: seeing written proof of how your two hour eight mile run has become an hour and fifty minutes is hugely rewarding. And when you see that blank week on the page after a particularly busy period, you know when you need to get back in the game and back on your training schedule.

Not every week is going to be perfect, trust me. I'm still recovering from my half and have yet to get back to my weekly 18-20 miles. But I wrote down my long eight mile Saturday run for the first time in a month today, and it felt fantastic. With my schedule this week, I may not be able to get in eight miles this Saturday, but we'll see; sometimes just knowing my desk planner is waiting for me to make that notation is enough to get my ass outside, even if it's in foreign territory.

13.1: You're a Free Bitch, Baby.

I have discovered the key to surviving a half marathon: Lady Gaga.

No, seriously. I mean, yes, you do need training and carbs and all that stuff, but what all those fancy running websites don't tell you is that your secret weapon should be Lady Gaga.

This past Saturday, April 14, I ran my first half marathon. It was an exhilarating, terrifying, overwhelming experience that culminated in three of the hardest hours of my life. And for the first three miles of the race, I literally listened to nothing but "Born This Way". For miles four and five, I listened to "Telephone" and "Bad Romance". This might be why my iPod broke around mile ten; I kept hitting the back button over and over, almost obsessively.

So here's the thing about half marathons: it's kind of a mindfuck. You might be intimidated by all the badass Ryan Miller wannabes crowding for the front, but those guys aren't really what the race is about. You are what makes these races special--the average, every day runner who does twenty miles a week on a trail and can do a ten-minute mile on a good day. The runner who just prays they'll make it to the finish line without needing to pee. Once I figured this out (literally fifteen minutes before the gun went off, I had this epiphany), I zeroed in on Lady Gaga, and after that I took off and never looked back (and literally, I never look back--I don't need to see who's behind me, because it doesn't matter, not until you pass that finish line).

It's a rush, it's a trip, it's something that you can't possibly wrap your brain around until you finally see the light at the end of the aching, exhausting, Gatorade-fueled tunnel. Why do crazy people put themselves through the process of running 13.1 miles, or God-willing, 26.2? Because recreational drugs are illegal. And also, because we love putting our bodies to the test and seeing it pass with flying colors. Pain is the proof and reward for hard work.

Well, that, and the kick-ass finisher's medal.

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Katy Perry

People ask me questions about my running a lot: How do you start? Where do you go? What kinds of running gear do you like? How do you not get bored? Are you insane?

The last question is a subjective, of course, but the rest I plan to address at some point with this blog. However, with my first half marathon looming in the very near future, I want to talk about something that every runner should have: a kick-ass playlist.

(I'll throw my two cents at Apple and say my little green iPod Nano is a lifesaver. It's tiny, compact, and light--if you discover you're one of those runners who hates bulk, get a Nano. Don't mess with carrying your iPhone. Also, if you're like me and sweat like Charles Barkley in overtime, you'll find keeping earbuds in place is a supreme pain in the ass. Never fear! After many, MANY months of searching, I discovered Yurbuds; they have a special locking technology that keeps them in place, no matter how many gallons of sweat you throw at them, not to mention the earbuds themselves are covered with a sweat-resistant silicone. They're pricey, but worth every penny.

RIGHT, BACK TO THE MUSIC, SORRY.)

Every runner's taste is different, obviously, so this is just a taste of what I personally like to listen to when I'm out on a long run. I've gone through several different playlists over the last couple of years, and the one thing I know for certain helps with a good run? Updating your tunes. You'll find your pace picks up exponentially when you add a couple of new songs, be they the latest Billboard Top 20, or a selection from your brother's ELO Greatest Hits. If you don't change up your playlists at least every other month, you'll get bored, and boredom leads to crappy, miserable runs.

Running playlists are when you set your uber-hipster self aside; this isn't the time to put your entire Grizzly Bear discography on shuffle. We're talking no shame here. I am not afraid to say I have over a half dozen Katy Perry songs on my running playlist--as well as the remixes. I nonironically have two different versions of Skrillex's dubstep mix of "E.T." Hell, I have two entire Skrillex albums! Dubstep is your friend on a ten mile run, kiddos.

You may want that Adele ballad, but really, is Adele and melancholy piano riffs really going to keep your pace up? Probably not. Pick songs that have a healthy beat, or a rocking chorus, or hilarious lyrics (i.e. any LMFAO song in existence). Go for the ones that get your blood pumping, the ones that never fail to make you mouth along like a lunatic in your car. My husband refuses to run/workout to anything other than pulsing techno, and when he gets in the zone, he's locked in.

Okay, so let's review:

• Keep your playlist fresh: change up your songs every couple of months.
• Don't be a hipster! No one is going to judge you for those four or five One Direction songs you bought off iTunes.
• Pick songs that are upbeat, fast-moving, or have funny/smile-inducing lyrics.

Here's a sampling of what I currently have on my running playlist (creatively titled Run):

• Ghosts n Stuff by deadmau5
• Waking Up in Vegas (Manhattan Clique Remix) by Katy Perry
• Til the World Ends (remix featuring Ke$ha and Nicki Minaj) by Britney Spears
• Tik Tok by Ke$ha
• In For the Kill (Skrillex remix) by La Roux
• Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus
• Around the World by Daft Punk
• 99 Problems by Hugo
• We Own the Sky by M83
• Domino by Jessie J

Basically, whatever gets you moving, download it! Nothing helps get you going like good tunes. Just make sure you don't accidentally turn your iPod on to shake shuffle. 

Uh, not that I've done this. Repeatedly.

The D Team

When I was in elementary school, we had Track Day every spring. In the weeks prior, our PE teacher would divide us up into groups for the relay race, i.e. the crown jewel event that did its best to show off the most athletically-inclined kids...and the ones who, uh, weren't. There was the A Team: kids who could run a mile in under six minutes, kids who were lean and quick and would later go on to be basketball stars, quarterbacks, and track phenoms. These were the kids who didn't even have to try in PE class; their genes were just that awesome. There was the B Team--slightly less-genetically blessed kids, but who could still hold their own in a fifty yard dash. These were the kids who would still play sports, but instead of their name in lights, they'd end up with a decent scholarship to a local state school.

Then came the C and D Teams, i.e. The Islands of Misfit Athletically-Challenged Kids. I came to know the C/D Teams well, having spent all six years of my elementary school career being their champion. Having grown up in a small town, I had the same faces in my group year after year; I wasn't a fat kid like my friend David, but I was slow, and by fourth grade the two of us became resigned  to the fact that we'd never be A/B Team material. We'd run against other C/D Teams, sometimes winning, but most of the time coming in last place, or next to last. I didn't really care; I was a bookworm, so what did I care if I couldn't win a relay race?

But there was always that element of humiliation when our PE teacher called out your team placement, even when I inevitably knew my fate long before she ever said my name. I wasn't fast, and everyone knew I wasn't fast. I was D Team material.

I was a lifelong turtle.

Fast forward twenty years or so. In an effort to get healthy, my husband and I started going to the boot camp at our local gym. I avoided the treadmill like plague--like I wanted people watching me flop around and run! Right. I stuck to the elliptical machines and stair climbers and pretended all the treadmills in my gym were broken and/or covered in a deadly virus.

But I wasn't losing any weight! My cardio wasn't improving like it should have, and that's when my trainer said to me as I sobbed in the locker room over my impending doom and wretched fitness, "You need to get on that treadmill. You need to start running."

Cue more sobbing.

And yet...something clicked in my head. I climbed on the treadmill the following day, took a deep breath, and just...ran. Well, walked, really. Walked-jogged. Jogged-walked. I felt awkward and dumb and like the whole gym was staring at me. But I kept going for twenty minutes.

The crazy thing is, I liked it. I felt good after I finished. So I went back the next day and did it all over again. I had a business conference in San Diego the following week; I staked out the treadmill at the resort gym and ran every day. Pretty soon I was able to go two miles without walking.

A turtle enjoying running? Madness, you say. But it's all true. This turtle starting going out and buying running shorts and water belts and subscribing to Runner's World. I bought my first pair of running shoes over $100. I learned what a "PR" was.

I didn't run my first 5k until the following fall. It was sponsored by the local Humane Society, and runners got to participate with their dogs. It's hard to be nervous when a dozen or so Golden Retrievers are smiling at you like you're the shit. The course was ridiculously hilly; I ran the first mile like a bat out of hell. Naturally, I promptly ran out of gas the second mile. My final time was somewhere around 46:00.

I was ecstatic, because I had completed a 5k. 


Since then, I've ran seven 5ks. My best time was this past Thanksgiving at the Pilgrim Run in Kansas City, where I broke 40:00.

This past fall, I got the crazy idea to try a half marathon. My husband, who has become an avid cyclist in the midst of my running craziness, did the Tour de BBQ in Kansas City last October. It's a 65 mile bike race, and he completed 62 of those miles (he blew a tire and was unable to repair it). A few days after the race, he looked at me and said, "If I can fucking bike 62 miles, you can do a half marathon."

So in December I signed up for the Rock the Parkway Half Marathon. I've been training since the beginning of January, averaging 20 miles a week. My average mile time is around 13.50.

I train on a trail, along with dozens and dozens of other runners. I joke that I only pass walkers; guys twice my age blow past me on a constant basis, barely breaking a sweat and probably listening to a David Sedaris audiobook on their iPod.

Last week, I saw my first turtle on the trail. He was sitting on the sidelines, his neck outstretched, not afraid of a damn thing. He looked me straight in the eyes and didn't flinch when I ran by. He probably got passed by a gazillion runners and cyclists that day, but he didn't care. He was a turtle, he was there, and he wasn't going anywhere.

I thought, That's me. And I'm okay with that.


I started this blog to help other turtles who are coping with the realization that they are now, in fact, runners. I'm not out to give expert advice or anything, because hey, I'm still a newbie. But if you were a kid on the D Team and are getting a second chance at A Team status, let's commiserate. Let's be turtles who don't give a shit what people think, and just go run.