Life On The Run As A Brooks I.D.er

My name is Teri, and I am a running gear addict.

My running drawer is filled to overflowing – long sleeves, short sleeves, tanks, shimmels, capris, shorts, skorts, compression tights, gloves, hats…  I have more running shoes than heels, more wicking tops than cute ones for casual wear.  And because I have tried so many types of clothing, I’ve become pretty picky about the tops that make the grade. So when I find one that I am constantly searching for in the clean pile, I know it’s a good one.

A Mizuno Blaze Warmer top

Long sleeve running tops can be tough to pick out.  I thought I had a nice one by Mizuno, but I realized it was pretty scratchy after I picked up an Asics Favorite Long Sleeve. That was my favorite shirt for awhile.  I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find anything better.

Asics Favorite Long Sleeve

That’s when I noticed the Brooks Breakaway shirt on their site.  ”Everyone at Brooks HQ is excited about this new super-soft long-sleeve shirt!” read the sales text.  Hmm, I thought, super soft.  I could like that.  So I ordered one.

My new fave - Brooks Break Away Long Sleeve

Oh. My. Gosh. It was love at first wear.  The fabric gives you a soft little hug, and the fit is flattering in all the right places.  If there were nothing more to this shirt than that, I’d be a happy runner.  But it gets better.  They’ve added a zipper pocket on the side of this shirt, so you have a place to stow a key or a gel.  I don’t know why all shirts don’t have this feature, but after having to take a water belt because I’ve needed a place to stow stuff and had nothing on my clothes, I’m hooked.  I liked the shirt so much that I wanted to get a second one, but there were none in my size.

Sad about this prospect, I sent a tweet to @brooksrunning asking if there were going to be more Break Away shirts.  Yes, she answered, but they will be part of the fall line, due at the end of July.  July!  I still had several more months of cool weather running.  I was heartbroken, but then @brooksrunning gave me hope.  Check in with the Brooks outlet store – they have some in stock.  And sure enough, I was able to get hooked up with my size, so I ordered a second.  Now I hear they have some more in – I’ll probably be ordering a third.  (If you can’t find a Brooks item online, you should check in with the outlet.  Great people, great prices – they can be reached at 425.402.1632.)

I started this post a few weeks ago after receiving my Brooks ID uniform.  I shelved it away, not able to share it with the world, but after Jill Will Run wrote an inspiring post about her struggles with anorexia, I felt compelled to share my experience.  I know that there are a whole lot of women who have body image issues; it’s time we break this cycle and learn to live with ourselves as we are right now.

Deep breaths.

This isn’t easy for me to write about.  I know that my friends and family will be reading it.  But I am tired of hiding this part of me.  I need to expose it to light so that it loses its power over me.

I just received my Brooks ID singlet and shorts last night.  They are a fabulous Nightlife color, bright neon yellow green and black, with Brooks emblazoned on the chest.  The shorts are runners shorts – which means short, with a high split that leaves plenty of room for leg movement…and exposure.  The singlet is a bra top that hugs every curve I have, including the ones I don’t like. To say this outfit is challenging to me personally is an understatement.

I’ve had body issues for a long time.  As a teenager, my body was the one thing that I was proud of, though I hated to show it off.  I was a fit soccer player, and I felt like that body was my one redeeming quality.  I thought it was the only reason a boy would be interested in me.  My whole sense of self worth became wrapped up with my jean size. Fastforward eight or nine years, to the birth of my first daughter.  It took some time for me to conceive, so to help the process, I abruptly stopping running and playing soccer.  Between the pregnancy, an overzealous appetite and a penchant for a large Slurpee on my long drive home, I gained nearly 80 pounds from my low point only two years before.  My body changed drastically.

I worked hard to drop that baby weight, and I ran my first 1/2 marathon between children in an attempt to regain what I had once been.  But as anyone who has ever put on 80 pounds knows, it changes you forever.  It has taken me over eight years to even come close to the weight I had been, and I will never have those perfect abs or non-stretchmarked thighs again.  Some days I’m okay with this, but others, I struggle.  Those old habits of tying my self worth to the shape of my legs die hard.

I’ve lived with the unspoken belief for some time now that the only people who are worthy of wearing short, tight clothing are those with perfect bodies.  My ideal body type tends towards the athletic and muscular –  think Kara Goucher – over rail thin models.  But a Kara Goucher body is as impossible for me to achieve as the supermodel build. I’ve told myself over and over that I have no business baring my less than perfect midriff, that I need to make sure the backs of my legs are always covered in case there is cellulite showing.  It’s not something I talk about, and I honestly don’t mind when other people bare it all.  I’m envious of those who are comfortable in their bodies, but I’ve not been able to turn off the internal self talk that won’t let me be comfortable as I am.  When things are not going well, the self talk can get vicious.

The thing is that I’ve realized that my daughters watch me closely.  They are learning these habits from me, and it is the last thing I want them to learn.  I want them to be proud of what their bodies can do, who they are, what they’ve accomplished.  I don’t want them feeling less than because of some genetically imposed shape or propensity for body fat composition.  I want them to see their bodies as a marvelous machine to get them where they want to go.  Because that is all that it is, really.  We are so much more than the shell around our soul.

So I am taking a deep breath and swallowing up my fear at wearing the Brooks ID uniform.  I will wear it with pride, because I am proud of the things that I have accomplished that have given me the opportunity to wear the uniform.  I will wear it with pride because I want to my daughters to see that there is no “acceptable” body shape for wearing any type of clothing; we can all choose freely what we wish to put on our bodies.  I will wear it with pride because Brooks is the kind of company that wants runners of all sizes and abilities representing them.  And I will wear it with pride because perhaps, finally,  I can move beyond these body image issues to a healthier place that accepts me just the way I am.

I learned about a wonderful project that addresses women’s body image issues on Twitter. It is called Operation Beautiful, and its mission is to end this negative self talk or “fat talk”.   You can help out the project by leaving post-it notes in public places complimenting random strangers with positive self talk messages, like “Smile! You’re beautiful!” or “Wow – you’re stunning!”  It’s a little thing that can make a big difference.  I found this video to be very informative and inspiring:

Among my running buddies, I’m starting to cause a stir.  I’m on my third 50 mile week in a row; last week, I ran 63 miles over 8 consecutive days.  I can tell that they are starting to think that perhaps I’m going off the deep end, and the stern warnings about injury and high mileage are becoming more frequent.  And then I pop on dailymile, and I see my Brooks ID buddies churning out 60 mile weeks as they achieve faster and faster times, and I think, hey, it’s not so much.  Needless to say, I’m feeling conflicted and confused.

But as the saying goes, the proof is in the pudding, and I am finding that I am feeling stronger and recovering faster as I slowly ramp up my miles.  I just picked up an excellent book by Brad Hudson, an elite coach from Eugene, about how to run faster.  One of his basic tenets of training is to develop an aerobic base, and doing that entails lots of miles.  He has also found that higher mileage means stronger bodies, and that stronger bodies mean less injury.  Injuries don’t happen when we are maintaining regular mileage; they happen when we try to shift our mileage higher and push too far, too fast.

I haven’t sped willy nilly to 50 mile weeks all at once, and I think that may be helping me stay healthy.  I’ve been working on building to this mileage for the past year.  In my last marathon training cycle, I hit a 50 mile week one time.  I’ve had 4 weeks since January this year.  A 40 mile week is becoming routine, and I think this is why I am running stronger now.  But I also plan to wait to run my marathon in June; I plan to have many more 50 and even 60 mile weeks before I hit that start line.

I’ve also figured out that my long runs are another place I am lacking.  I’ve run two marathons.  And I’ve run one 20 miler outside of those two marathons.  Two 18 milers.  Three sixteen milers.  In 2 1/2 years.  Is it really any surprise I’ve struggled with the marathon?  I ran a 16 miler on Thursday, and this was the first one that felt almost normal.  Long, yes, but I wasn’t wrecked.  I could have run the next day.  Realizing that putting in the work does result in gains is encouraging.  Perhaps there is hope for me yet.

I am sure that for experienced runners these revelations are not surprising.  I’m just starting to realize how much a novice I really am at this running “game”.  I have so much to learn, so many miles to log before I can throw the towel in on my potential.  It’s encouraging.

Whenever I start feeling a little cocky, like my 50+ mile weeks make me queen of the hill, all I need to do is venture over to dailymile or, better yet, the new Brooks ID site, and check out how fast everyone I’ve friended seems to be running lately.  Easy training paces of 7:30 miles, 2:50 goal marathons, 100 milers, 300+ marathons in one year… You get the idea.  I might be able to knock out a 1:44 half marathon, but that’s only good for 9th place in my division.  So I think about training harder, running more intervals, pushing harder, farther, faster…

But it only takes a little bit of calmer reflection to realize that this is not the path to take.  There will always be someone faster than me.  More than likely, there will be many someones who are faster than me.  I can accept this.

It is generally accepted that simplifying your life is really quite simple.  First, you identify what’s most important to you.  And then, you eliminate everything else.

The same can apply to your training.  What is it that is important to you?

For me, it’s being able to run whenever I want to, which means staying injury free.  And that means, for me, laying off the speed.  I’ve suffered my injuries when I’ve pushed harder than my conditioning had me prepared for.  My worst half marathon was a breakthrough performance – I ran a 1:44:40 (after taking out bathroom breaks – my official time was 1:46 and change), after having run a 1:52 only three months prior.  I wasn’t up to running that far that fast yet.

And I love running long.  Nothing is more satisfying to me than a long run well done.  I want to go on trails, and I want to go farther.  My body can take the miles when they are slow, not so much when they are fast.

So this humble pie has been good for me.  It’s helping me refocus, realize what it is I want from my running, and that is a good thing.

“Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, champagne in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “WOO HOO what a ride!”

With Vancouver Lake a few weeks behind me, and the realization that I’m not going to be ready for the Yakima River Canyon Marathon just sinking in, I’m in that awkward place of figuring out what comes next.

My training has been somewhat troublesome for me.  I love to pour on the miles – I ran 50 last week and feel great – and I feel like I’m off if I’m running less than 40.  But I don’t enjoy strict plans and staying on schedule.  Life has a way of messing plans up, and I find that it leads to more stress when I’m on a strict regimen focused on a goal race.  It never fails that the day of the planned long run ends up being the day one of the kids is home sick.  It’s enough to make me crazy.

So I’ve decided that perhaps what I need to do is go about my training differently.  I really have never been a Type A organized person.  I’m happy wandering through life based on how I feel, spontaneously scheduling an outing rather than having it on the books weeks in advance.  (This has been a challenge for me with kids!)  So my new “plan” is this – a long run every two weeks or so (20+ miles), mileage in the 45 – 55 mile range for 3 weeks running, then a cutback week with no long run and mileage under 40 to allow for recovery.  During each week, a good, solid tempo run with some faster miles.  If my schedule works out later, I’ll try to get back out to track for additional speedwork.

If I can make this work, then I’m pretty much ready for whatever length race might come my way.

That being said, I have signed up for my next race – Portland’s 15k Shamrock Run.  I missed Shamrock last year because I spent the evening prior in the ER with my youngest (darn influenza…), and before that, I had run the 8k several times.  In fact, the last time I ran the 15k was 2001 – as I was training for my first 1/2 marathon ever.  My PR, then, is 1:22:32.  If I can’t blast apart that PR, I’m having a really bad day.  Plus, I got some sweet Shamrock socks from my daughter. Can’t wait to rock those!

Food memories are among my favorites.  I can still remember the hot, savory flavor of a BK Broiler (of all things) my husband shared late one night after a long day of soccer.  I can taste the heavenly Banana Cream Pie my husband’s nana used to make for every family gathering, as well as the cold freshness of a grape popsicle after a warm long run last summer.  But some of the best food I’ve ever eaten has been after a race – warm clam chowder after Portland’s rainy Shamrock Run, hot breakfast at the beach under the misty skies of Seaside after the Hood to Coast…It’s not easy to pick the best thing I’ve ever eaten, but I’ll give it a go.

I first had this delightful treat two years ago during my first Cascade Lakes Relay.  I was with a new team, unfamiliar with their customs and secrets to successful relay running.  When our team captain first mentioned her tray of hot potatoes, my first thought was “What a strange thing to eat!”  Up to this point, my biggest win at relay eating had been salty chips and salsa on a particularly hot day, but more often than not I was faced with 24 hours of eating Clif Bars and red vines.   All it took was one bite of the garlicky, cheese goodness to know that this was a gem of a relay food.  After I ran, one of the first things I ate was those delicious potatoes.  Pure heaven.

If you’d like to experience the magic of race potatoes – here is the recipe:

Roasted Red Race Potatoes

2 -3 lbs red potatoes, washed and cubed in bite-sized chunks
olive oil
garlic – 2 to 3 cloves, minced
1 pkg Italian blend cheese

Preheat oven to 400º. Scrub and cube potatoes and place in large bowl of water to soak for 15 to 20 minutes. This helps to soften up the potatoes and release the starch.

After they have soaked, drain the potatoes and put back into the large bowl. Toss with olive oil to coat, and stir in minced garlic. Layer the potatoes in a baking dish (use a disposable aluminum one if you are taking on a race) and cover with the bag of cheese. Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 20 – 25 minutes.

Uncover and bake for an additional 25 – 30 minutes; more if the potatoes are deep. Check periodically. Once they are easily pierced, they are done. If the cheese is getting too brown, you can always put the aluminum foil back on.

As a relay runner, you become used to the night leg.  Initially, the thought of running in the dark can be enough to deter the beginning relay runner from ever trying a relay.  I imagined that I would be eaten by some wild animal, or that I would fall in a ditch, or…well, I have quite a creative imagination, and I couldn’t stop imagining all of the horrors that might befall me out in the darkness.

But I have to admit, that first night leg I ever ran was also my favorite.  It was 1997, and I had only been running in races for about a year.  I was hooked on the thrill of the crowds, the competition of the clock, so when I heard about the Hood to Coast relay from a running buddy, I was intrigued.  Sign me up, I told him, and before I knew it, I was in a van heading up to the start at Timberline Lodge.

I loved everything about that first relay – the excitement, the vans, the funny team names.  My first leg was just outside of Sandy, rolling through farmland as we headed in to Portland.  I remember a boy with a hose, spraying us down under the heat of the day.  But as night began to fall and I realized that I would soon be running in the dark, I was apprehensive.  Running under the heat of the sun was one thing, but this would be the first time I had ever run after nightfall.  I had never carried a flashlight.

When it was finally my turn to run, I took off, flashlight in hand, trying to calm my breathing.  I was heading out of the Columbia County fairgrounds (leg #20), which hits you immediately with rolling hills (mostly up).  Gradually the need to breathe got the better of me, and I slowed down enough to notice the night sky.  Above me, the sky was lit with stars.  There was no traffic save the vans moving slowly by, the hoots and hollers of other teams cheering on their mates.  A big smile broke across my face.  This wasn’t scary – it was exhilarating.

The rest of that run passed like a blur.  I felt like I was flying through that dark night, and it was a bittersweet exchange.  I loved that night leg, and I knew that I would need to run more relays so that I could experience it again and again.

I have run and walked many more night legs since that first one I felt in love with.  I have been afraid, I have been in awe, I have been pretty sure that there are things crashing around in the bushes in the dark.  I have loved those legs, and hated them, but I would not trade them for the world.

They say that every time you run a race, you learn something – perhaps it is how to pace better, or what not to eat, or any number of valuable lessons.  My lesson for today was one of facing an uncomfortable truth – I really don’t like to suffer.

Steve Prefontaine once said, “”A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more.”  That competitive drive, that ability to push himself beyond the pain, is part of what made him a great runner.  It is a part of me that I need to find within myself, because I see now that for me to improve, I’m going to have to face that demon and learn to embrace it.

I came in to this race with everything going for me.  I did a real taper last week, running only 12 miles over the entire week.  I slept a full 10 1/2 hours last night, woke up with plenty of time to eat a nourishing breakfast, and felt as good as I could going in to the race.  I’ve been training pretty well – knocking out 40+ mile weeks for the past month.  The only hole in my training has been speedwork – I can’t make track workouts because of scheduling conflicts, and I’m not doing very well at speed training on my own.

Heading down the freeway towards the race, I worried about the weather.  Before leaving my house, I had peaked outside and noticed a light drizzle – not enough to worry about – but by the time I was heading down the road, the light drizzle had become a heavy rain.  I was wearing shorts and didn’t bring a jacket, but there was no time to zip home and pick one up.  I hoped it wouldn’t be a terrible mistake.

Our running group gathered together around the start, chatting things up when all of a sudden we realized that the race was underway.  If there had been a countdown, it was the quietest one ever.  Scrambling to get started in the right direction, we headed out on our first out and back.  As if by magic, the rain had stopped, and we warmed up quickly. The first three miles were solid; we were hammering out a 7:45 pace, and it felt pretty darn easy.  I noticed that there seemed to be a lot of speedy women out in front of me, but I didn’t worry about running against them.  I would run my own race.

The course was nice and flat, and it stretched out far in front of me.  I battled my mind, trying not to think about how far I had to go and to let the despairing thoughts take hold too much.  I tried to use my mantra “strong and steady” to keep my foot turnover at a decent rate, and I slipped on my iPod to have the music to help me pace.  (I did drop the iPod, causing me to have to turn back and dodge runners to pick it back up.  It wouldn’t be the last thing I dropped today.)

I was feeling strong as we headed out past mile 6 to the second turnaround.  My running buddies had slipped behind, and I was now running alone.  I noticed that my back and hips were tight, and I felt my mind recoiling at what they were feeling.  I was not pushing fast enough to be out of breath, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the pace.  I was fearing the pain before I was even feeling it.  I took a Hammer Gel about an hour in to the race, after dropping it on the ground of course. Fumble fingers!

The miles ticked off, and finally we were back near the start, where we would run one more out and back along the miles we had traveled at the start of the race.  This was tough going, as they seemed to stretch out forever.  My mind was really reeling at this point, though as I think back on it, I wasn’t hurting that bad.  A few ladies passed me, but I didn’t have the heart to try and catch them.  I just let them go.

I hit mile 12 in 1:35, and I thought that I could make my goal of 1:44:39 if I just held on for a bit longer.  My legs just didn’t want to go, but I did the best I could to keep going.  My feet were cold and wet, and thinking about them made them feel that much heavier.  I could see the pavilions in the distance and felt myself gain energy as I thought I was getting close.  But then I saw that we had to circle the field, and it felt like a punch in the gut.  Everything went heavy.  I was gutting it out, but it was hardly against my body that I was doing so – it was against my head.

Finally that finish line got close, and I looked up to see 1:44:19 on the clock.  I had made it, running a PR and finishing with a sub 8:00 pace.  Officially I think my time was recorded as 1:44:24, and I had 1:44:16 on my watch (since it took me a bit to get over the start line), so I’m going with the 1:44:19 as middle ground.  This pace put me in 9th place for my division – tough division, eh?  (I was 36th of 200 women – this was one tough field for such a small race. Kelly Jaske ran a 1:12:48 this morning.) My running buddies, who finished about 5 minutes behind me, couldn’t help but rub in their 2nd and 3rd place age division wins…

But looking back on the race, I can see that I ran it safely.  For the majority of the race, I was quite comfortable.  There is definitely a part of me that wants to run every race in comfort, to not have to feel the burning, nauseous feeling that comes with a hard effort.  I haven’t thought, “I’m going to catch that girl” in a long time.  It’s like that competitive fire has been quenched by the desire to not feel the pain.  I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing.

The thing is, I’m running better than I ever have.  But I think I have come to the point in my development that I am going to have to either side with comfort or with speed.  If I want to get faster, I am going to have to go toe to toe with pain.  If I want to stick with comfort, I’m going to be stuck in this zone.  There are no more easy fixes.  I just don’t know which way I will go.

Three nights ago now, a former soccer teammate passed away from breast cancer.  She was 37.  Her 38th birthday would have been only 18 days after mine.  We played together for two years at Western Oregon State, travelling to games, winning league championships, and practicing rain or shine after classes.  We called her “Sprint” for the amazing speed she had.  As a midfielder, I loved to send her long balls to chase down, knowing that more often than not she would be the first one to them, and often turn my passes into a goal.  She always had a smile; I don’t recall her ever getting mean on the field. I was proud to call her a teammate.

After I graduated, our lives went our separate ways, and I probably would have never known her fate were it not for the CBS show Survivor.  At the start of the 10th season, I tuned in to see if I wanted to watch.  By that point, Survivor was no longer a must-see show for me, but I was still curious about what was going on.  I was shocked to recognize one of the Survivors – it was Sprint.

I didn’t watch that season, but I did hear that she had come in a very respectable 4th place.  About a year later, though, I heard the troubling news that she had been diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer at the age of 32.  My heart went out to her, and I struggled to imagine what it must have felt like to have cancer at my age.

I didn’t hear much then for many years, and occasionally I would wonder how she was doing in her fight.  I was hopeful that no news was good news, and that she was enjoying a healthy remission.  But then I saw the news Wednesday that she had lost the battle, and my heart ached for her family.

You can’t help but ask yourself why at that point.  Why did she develop breast cancer while I did not?  Why was her life over when it should be at its prime?  I was sad and angry, and I wanted to do something to help end this terrible disease that has touched far too many women in my life.

I found an answer through the Dr Susan Love Foundation, which Sprint was raising money for in her final months.  In association with the AVON Foundation, the Love Foundation is attempting to build an Army of Women – 1,000,000 women who will register as volunteers for breast cancer research.  Periodically, new studies will be announced, and if you fit the criteria, you have the option of signing up.  One of the big differences is that they are looking for healthy women as well as those who have had breast cancer; scientists desperately want to answer that question of why some women get breast cancer while others do not.  By having a pool of possible research candidates already compiled, researchers can dramatically reduce the time it takes to bring a study online.

The Army of Women PSA:

Signing up is easy.  You give them basic information – your name, address, email, year of birth – nothing more than I would give if I were purchasing some running shoes online.  Periodically you will receive email announcing new research projects.  You read them, and if you qualify and are interested in participating, you take further action as indicated.  That’s pretty much it.  (Their FAQ answers a lot of basic questions about the project if you are curious.)

As athletes, our breast tissue may hold important clues.  Running may help lower our risk of developing disease; who knows what clues our bodies may hold.  I would love to see the active community well represented among the volunteers in the Army of Women.

If you have been touched by breast cancer, and you want to help find the answers to how breast cancer starts so that we can better prevent it, I urge you to sign up as a volunteer for the Army of Women.  Enough is enough.