August finished up by throwing us a curveball in the form of some ridiculous heat, and the first two days of September have been cloudy. Then sunny. Then cloudy again! This month is moody already.

Yesterday my leg felt pretty great. It didn’t hurt at all and I only had the slightest hint of an ache after martial arts class. I got prematurely excited because I thought perhaps a miraculous healing had taken place and I was going to be back to normal this morning. Sadly, it didn’t work out quite how I’d hoped.

I got up at about 6:35 and headed out for a four-miler. I didn’t get half a mile before my leg started to feel weird and then vaguely hurt. It’s such an obnoxious pain—not enough to make it impossible to run, but just enough to make it impossible to run at a normal speed. And the humidity. The humidity is back and it is ceaseless. Even in the dark the heat is oppressive, and I spent at least half of my run thinking about how wonderful it will be when Actual Fall comes. I spent the other half thinking of reasons that things are still pretty good. I am still running. I didn’t break a bone. There is still hope for the rest of this racing season! But I will admit that I had a sinking feeling when I realized that running (and not martial arts, of all things) is what irritates this injury. I shake my fist at that.

When I got back from my run, I decided to tackle Day #2 of one of my goals for this month: 30 push-ups and 50 crunches each day. I met my goal yesterday evening before we headed to martial arts class, but the push-ups were a little tough after having done 30 minutes of boxing. The crunches were no problem, and I even neglected my plan to save 15 of each exercise to do during martial arts class. So actually I did 45 push-ups and 65 crunches on September 1st. Win! This morning I found myself able (no doubt due to the fact that running is far less taxing on the arms than boxing) to do all 30 push-ups in one set. It’s nice to have a goal that’s still a challenge but that I can actually accomplish. My arms are tired now, but I’m cool with that.

On deck for today: avoiding being in the rain, my last martial arts class until next Tuesday (dang you, Labor Day!), and perhaps some Core Fusion. Should be another great Thursday!

This morning dawned slightly cloudy and really humid. I think August is feeling a little petulant.

I took yesterday off (except for a 30-minute walk at lunch) because on Sunday morning I ran another 10.25 miles even though I know it is best to take a rest day after a race and even though I know that my leg is injured. It was the last semi-cool morning I have witnessed since then—and fine, it’s only Tuesday, but still—and I practiced squashing feelings of frustration and inadequacy that were brought on by the fact that I couldn’t run very fast. I spent most of the run enjoying the weather and even discovered that my leg doesn’t hurt as long as I don’t make sudden movements to the left or right. I felt so good, in fact, that I nixed my earlier plan of running eight miles and went for 10.25 in 1:25:00. Ha!

As I said, the weather is not cooperating at all and I have plans for after work, so I got up at the crack of dawn to go run on campus. I really look forward to the actual fall, but the end of summer is so bittersweet, and most mornings it’s kind of bitter because previously when I woke up at 6:00 a.m. the sun was already rising and everything looked awesome, but now it’s pitch-dark until almost 7:00. Then later, when it’s light out, it’s 90°! Get it together, Lansing!

I rolled up in the still-darkness and started running despite the fact that my soul recoiled from the returned humidity. Last week was so lovely! And this week is so hot. But after a couple of miles I didn’t care, because even if my leg was being ridiculous and the weather was not ideal, I was still running.

This morning I thought a lot about what has happened in the past two weeks. The injury from last week is slowing me down—there’s no doubt about that—and I’m not sure if I’ll get back to my previous speeds this summer. I almost cried with joy when I ran a couple of miles under 8:00 this morning, but I definitely paid the price. By the end of eight miles I was really struggling. This does not bode well for the half marathon coming up—or for any of the races I have coming up. I’m a little nervous about that, but part of me thinks I’m just supposed to run slowly for the rest of this week and the next and then bust out. It’s not so bad as long as I can still run.

I ran eight miles today because it’s the last day of August and I wanted to send it off with an appropriate number of miles. Done! Maybe I should kick off September with a nine-mile run tomorrow morning. Or maybe not. But here’s what I do plan to do in September:

• Run many races, and run well. I have four races scheduled, and I’m really hoping to be back at 100% for those races. The first one will be on September 11th on Mackinac Island, and I really want another big trophy! This will involve trying to figure out a good balance between resting my stupid leg and still running. The combo of too much rest + not enough running is making me slow, and I need to fix it ASAP.
• Do 30 push-ups and 50 crunches each day. I want to get toned again, but I’m just not ready to commit to another workout video regimen. I especially don’t want to overdo it on the lunges, etc. because I might actually snap my leg off and that wouldn’t be great. I’ve heard that push-ups are a good way to get toned arms, so I think I’ll try it out and see what happens. Martial arts will assist with this goal because we usually do at least 15 push-ups and crunches in each class. At any rate, it will be a good base for getting back into weight training and videos.
• Have a good time. I tend to be stressed out in September because there are so many things going on—football games, races, work, trying to run, thinking about how nice it is not to be in school, watching my shows on Netflix and Hulu—and then eventually my mood is perpetually bad. This September, I’m going to do what I want and have fun, dangit! I will eat popcorn at football games! I will run after work! I will go to martial arts too much! Bam!
• Try out some Core Fusion. This is another thing that I decided to try right now. I bought a bunch of Core Fusion DVDs forever ago, and I never really got into them because I didn’t feel like they gave me much of a workout. However, with my leg in the state that it’s in (annoying), it might be the perfect thing since it involves no leaping around or anything like that. I would really like to do some of these videos two or three times a week.

It’s already looking like a banner month! Do you have any sweet plans for September?

Have a great Tuesday!

Sometimes when life gives you lemons you have no choice but to stomp on the lemons and then run anyway. That’s exactly what happened to me at this year’s Crim race! I realized shortly after hurting myself last week that any kind of attempt at a PR would be foolish at best and disastrous at worst, so I decided to run with Mom. This is not to say that she runs slowly by any means, but it did take the pressure off. By the morning of the race I was feeling pretty good about my decision. I felt especially good when we started warming up and my leg felt super weird.

Large races like the Crim offer lots of sightseeing opportunities. For us, the collection of Things to Watch actually began on the trip over on Friday night. Jack and I left immediately after our martial arts end-of-summer barbecue (where, unfortunately, I did not win an iPad) and drove to Flint behind a group of four pre-production Ford Focuses in different colors. There was a bit of excitement right before changing freeways because one of them had a mild freakout and almost ran a car off the road.

Approaching downtown Flint at 7:00 a.m. on Saturday also gave us plenty to look at. My parents’ van almost got trapped a parking lot because an idiot old man drove his car into an illegal spot and then strolled away, coffee in hand. We ended up scoring an awesome spot on the outside edge of a lawn turned parking lot, so it worked out. The funny thing about downtown Flint is that it’s not so bad for the duration of the race. Of course, after the pizza and beer runs out everyone gets out of dodge, but in the gentle morning sunlight it almost seems okay.

We had plenty of time to find a bathroom and get to the start line, and so during our leisurely stroll I saw lots of different kinds of people. Some of them were wearing quirky outfits. Unfortunately, I did see Leopard Print Bikini. She is an old woman who runs in a leopard print running outfit designed in “elite runner” fashion: skintight spandex shorts and an ab-revealing top. However, this woman is by no means an elite runner. She is also getting quite old to be wearing the outfit, but I guess it’s her “thing” because apparently she’s been doing it for years and years. When I pointed it out to my parents, they seemed familiar with her presence. “Oh, did you see that woman? She’s always here,” said my Dad. “That’s just nast,” I said. “Yeah, it is nast,” said my Mom, “and it gets worse every year.” Really, it’s like a car wreck. You don’t want to see, but then the image is forever burned into your mind.

Huge races (the 10-mile race has more than 10,000 people in it) also attract a large number of idiots. We got to witness it firsthand when Mom and I went to line up. Although we got in line several minutes before the start, it was so tightly packed that we were in with people who thought they could probably run a 9:30 pace. Even injured I don’t run a 9:30 pace but we couldn’t get any farther ahead in the line. Luckily it was a chip start, so we passed the time dodging the elbows of teenage girls who were blissfully unaware that any other humans might be nearby.

The singing of the national anthem was also quite the spectacle. There is a guy that runs the 10-mile race each year dribbling three basketballs. It’s his gimmick. For some reason he was invited to sing the national anthem at the start of the race this year…and it was another car wreck.This man might have a nice voice, but he was reaching so far to make the national anthem dramatic with little flairs at the end of each line that he messed up the lyrics. Of the national anthem. Note: the national anthem does include the verse: Whose broad stripes and bright stars/ through the perilous fight/ what so proudly we hailed/ at the twilight’s last gleaming. It just doesn’t. I had a lot of trouble bursting out laughing.

When the race actually started we had another leisurely stroll to the start line. I like to make jokes at those moments like, “So, is this pace okay for you?” That’s a funny joke because at last year’s Crim Rachael and I were behind a couple of women who were barely above a jog. At the quarter-mile mark, one said to the other, “Is this a good pace for you?” Might want to wait ’til the one mile at least, ladies.

Eventually we started to run and were immediately trapped the horde of idiots. Maybe that makes me an idiot too, but at least I know how fast I can run. Nothing irritates me more than people who either don’t know their pace and so line up at the 7-minute pace line or who know they will be walking and still line up at the front. The race quickly turned into a giant obstacle course. I was dodging people and “road closed” signs that were on the side of the road—but who needs to move that kind of thing? It’s only going to be a stampede of 10,000 people or so.

The first two miles of the Crim are always ridiculous because of those people. I passed tons of people walking in the first mile. I passed tons of people who couldn’t have maintained a 9:30 pace if their very lives depended on it. Best of all, the course narrows at unexpected places and then winds downtown. Nothing traps people more than going around a corner! Still, I made sure to enjoy the beautiful morning. The temperature was quite perfect and the sun was shining in a lovely way down onto the seething crowd. We saw Jack before we left the downtown part of the course, so that was fun.

The dodging continued for four miles before we finally started to equalize with the runners around us. But since I was not running as fast as I possibly could, I got to see lots of things that I missed last year! I saw the Krispy Kreme people—did you know they hand out entire doughnuts?—and I even saw the frat house passing out all the free beer. Their lawn was crowded with people holding red cups. It’s a pretty entertaining sight until you smell all the stale beer on the road, and then it’s kind of disgusting.

I was having a great time jaunting along. I actually saw the faces of the spectators [EDIT: I left this out earlier, but there are quite a few spectators along most of the race course at the Crim. People come out and sit (and stand) on their front lawns. They set up their own water stands and a lot of them have sprinklers or hoses. It's a really cool community feeling, so being able to see them this time around was awesome!] and noticed the nice trees on the side of the course and after mile four I had a little more room to pass people. And then came the Bradley Hills.

The Bradley Hills are a set of three big-a hills that come smack dab in the middle of the race. They are not the only hills on the course, but they are steep. I remembered something from a recent Runner’s World article (yes! I was actually so calm that I remembered things from articles!) and tried to go up the hill as if I were a gazelle. It worked. Of course, after all the hills were over my legs were wiped, but I looked pretty dang good leaping past all the people who were walking.

Around mile 8 I started to lose my rose-colored classes. My leg hurt and also I was getting pretty tired. “I’m really losing it,” I told Mom. “Well, find it again,” she said. So I did. The last couple miles of the Crim are half in the suburbs and half downtown, and I can never remember where the turnoff onto the bricks is. It came up pretty quickly. The bricks are also Shining-like and seem to last longer than the rest of the race, mainly because I am always afraid that my ankles will give out and I’ll biff it and roll all the way through the finish. Thankfully it didn’t happen.

We spent the next few minutes waiting for my Dad to finish, and we even saw the back of Jack’s shirt as he started running his 8k. I briefly considered jumping in and running with him, but then I remembered that I’d have to run over the Bradley Hills again. Nah. My leg was really bothering me by that point, but I spent the vast majority of the race doing a montage of peaceful running moments, so I couldn’t really complain.

The last ridiculous thing I saw as we waited in the pizza and beer line was a couple dressed up as superheroes. The woman was wearing a Wonder Woman outfit. Those costumes should never be worn unless you have the body of Lynda Carter circa the 1970s, and this woman decidedly did not. I just looked away and thought of happy memories from the race. Sometimes that’s all you can do!

Yesterday one of my fellow bloggers (Rachel Wilkerson) made a sweet post about owning things in life; specifically, owning things that we might not always talk about. After at least 20 hours of thought, I’ve decided to pin up her awesome graphic and own a few things.

I am competitive when it comes to running (and, okay, some other things too) and sometimes I am disappointed when I don’t meet my goals. I’m going to just own that, and it’s part of the process that I use when planning races and competing. I don’t want to hear that I shouldn’t be disappointed when I get third place instead of first; I am, and I don’t care. Later, I’ll use that disappointment to fuel a ridiculously awesome comeback.

I don’t tolerate truly mean people. I totally agree that to err is human and to forgive is divine, and I feel that I’ve improved my forgiving skills greatly in the past few years. Maybe that’s just growing up. But though I might forgive, I simply don’t give people who have attacked/wronged/hurt me chances to do it again. There are some people in life that are awful, and like cancer I think they should be cut out before they have the chance to spread to my brain. I don’t hold grudges, I get rid of the grudge-causers. Sorry I’m not sorry.

I like how I look. I spent quite a few years recently fretting over the fact that my lower jaw is positioned too far back in my skull. I attended consultations about having surgery that involved two years of braces and four teeth pulled in order to fix this problem. I worried about being unphotogenic. But you know what? I think I look just fine, and I own the fact that I’m not the most photogenic person ever (and I wouldn’t be a supermodel even if I had a perfect chin).

I don’t believe in “accepting” an unhealthy lifestyle. I think that everyone should learn to love themselves for who they are, but I don’t think that “accepting” certain health issues just because they’re the status quo is okay—for instance, I think obesity is bad for people no matter how much an individual accepts it. I also think that just about everyone has the time and skills to make lifestyle improvements, even if they won’t admit it. Thirty minutes of exercise a day can do wonders for your physical and mental health. I get that not everyone is slim and slender, but there’s just no excuse not to be healthy.

I will always have things I want to improve about myself. Currently I’m working toward becoming more toned, even though I frequently hear that I’m “totally in shape.” I hope that I’ll always be working toward fitness improvements. I’m not too hard on myself—I’m dedicated! I own it!

Sometimes I’m too sensitive. This manifests in lots of different ways, from crying at movies to dwelling on cruel things that people have said to me. I don’t have thick skin, and I’m aware that sometimes I take things too personally. But from now on, I’m going to own it while finding a good balance. Heartless people are no fun, but I could stand to toughen up a little. I know it. I own it. I’m going to practice it, starting now.

I’m a homebody, and I don’t like parties. There you have it: I just don’t like going out very much. I’m not a big drinker, and house parties are my kryptonite. I love being at home. Not sorry!

My life is awesome. Minor complaints aside, I have a really, really cool life. I have the best family and friends ever, I’m employed, my fiance is one of the best guys on the planet, and I spend most of my time doing things that I really love to do. Since last summer I’ve had a new perspective on life, which is that most of the things that you can turn into catastrophic events just aren’t. My wedding is not the end-all, be-all event of the century; I’m in control of it, not the other way around. Having a bad race causes me some disappointment, but I’ve learned how to use it constructively. I have my days, but you know what? My life is great. And I’m going to own that.

And last, but not least:

I am not the same person I was in college. When I started college, I was a wreck. I was almost completely consumed by homesickness and the misery of having a terrible roommate. I was negative, I had a bleak outlook on life, and I often blamed my unhappiness on the situation instead of working to improve it. Not anymore. I am just not that person. I work hard to maintain a positive outlook, I own up to my mistakes, and I motivate myself to succeed rather than waiting for everyone else to help. I’m open to resolving old issues and problems (as long as the person involved isn’t truly terrible, as some people are) and I think happiness and love are more important than dwelling on bad things that have happened. I have my flaws and my contradictions, but so does everyone else. I might be sensitive, but I’m not so fragile anymore. I own that. You should, too.

There you have it! That’s what I’m owning. That’s what I’m not sorry for. And now, readers, what do you own? Feel free to comment!

So, I told you all about my last ridiculous workout, but what I left out of that story was that afterward my leg hurt. Specifically, the tendon that connects my left leg to my torso. The pain even went up into my ab muscles a little bit. In my usual fashion, I did a bunch of stretches and tried to ignore it.

Yesterday it still hurt all day, but it wasn’t so bad during the 30-minute walk I took at lunch. One thing I love about the end of summer/fall is that it’s starting to get cool enough that I can once again walk at high noon and not sweat through all of my clothes. I thought everything would be fine until I tried to run after work.

I made it exactly a quarter of a mile before I had to stop. Generally, I will ignore pain (say, in my shins) until my legs go numb, but I have recently accepted that that’s a bad plan. So when I finally realized that my leg actually hurt too much to be running, I stopped and walked back to my car. I spent the rest of the evening cuddling up with an ice pack.

I expected it to hurt just as much this morning, but today just might be a day of miracles. For one thing, it’s a mere 48 degrees out according to the radio. That, my friends, is a perfectly wonderful temperature. I’m in love with that temperature. I can breathe in that temperature. And, oddly enough, my leg doesn’t hurt this morning. I did some test motions just now to see if it would, but so far—nothing. Could it be that my seemingly sort-of-terrible injury was a 24-hour thing?  I think I know exactly when it started: martial arts class, and those dang roundhouse kicks. I have been practicing my kicks a lot lately, but bad things can still happen, especially when you have to work with someone who cannot hold focus mitts competently. Just my luck.

I’m hesitant to get my hopes up over this sudden lack of pain, but I also would really love to go for a very slow and gentle 30-minute jog after work. I would especially love to be able to have a decent time this weekend at the Crim. We’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy this perfect weather and the fact that soon my parents will be here for the weekend! And then the Crim on Saturday morning! I can’t wait.

I hope everyone has a great Thursday!

Yesterday the Universe conspired against me to ruin my plans, but it turned out that my plans were actually improved by the ruining.

After work I set out as quickly as possible to run to the track. I planned to use the ten minutes it takes to run there as my warmup and then start on some speedwork. I had my schedule all planned out so that Jack could meet me at exactly 5:15 and I could shower at the IM and make it to martial arts class with time to spare.

A block from the track, I saw something dart through the trees. “Oh, no,” I said, because I knew what it was: people on the track. As I got closer I saw that it was some kind of MSU sports team out for pratice—either lacrosse or soccer. I know, I know, those two things look totally different, but I couldn’t tell due to the numerous pieces of equipment they had. I still held out hope until I got to the track entrance and saw a giant sign that said “CLOSED FOR MSU ATHLETICS.” Denied.

I could have changed my workout plans and gone for a thirty-minute run around campus, but by then I was fully aware of how hot it was, and the sun was beating down, and I was feeling a little bitter about the sports team. Instead I ran over to Jack’s office and waited for him to get out of work.

We made a mad dash back to the apartment to get a second set of clothes. I took a shower in record time (under three minutes), but we were still late in leaving for martial arts. When I leave that late I never make it to class on time, but somehow Jack dropped me off with four extra minutes. It wasn’t the best class I’ve ever had, but I did get to do some boxing.

Once class was done some clouds had rolled over East Lansing and the temperature was cooler. We headed back to the track. Through the bleachers I could see people jogging around the lanes, but they were decidedly not MSU student athletes. We did a quick warm-up and I pointed out the one annoying lady at the track. She was walking around the inside lane. The #1 rule of track etiquette is that if you’re going to walk or jog really slowly, you should do it in the outside lanes (unless, of course, you’re alone). This allows people who are going to run fast and sprint to work out without having to recalculate for the staggered start lines at each interval. I used my irritation to fuel my first 200m.

I realized after my 200m and 400m (separated by a 200m recovery) that my workout was almost ridiculously ambitious. I’d chosen to do a ladder workout: 200m, 400m, 800, 1200, 800, 400m, and 200m separated by 200m recoveries. When I chose it, I forgot that I am not a sprinter and that speedwork is hard. I was wiped halfway through the 800m, and I spent half a lap thinking about ways to justify quitting right then and there.

But if there’s one thing I hate, it’s being a quitter. I did not want to do the 1200. My legs hurt and the sprinting really did a number on my lungs. I changed my Garmin to show me my speed in MPH, and by the end of the 800m I was struggling to keep my speed at 9 mph.

I started the 1200 a little too slow. About 100 meters in I realized that I was slipping back into my distance-running habits by allowing my legs to turn over slowly to try and conserve energy. I wanted to slow down so badly, but instead—and this was my great victory of the night—I forced myself to have a quick turnover. It’s kind of crazy how different I feel when I’m consciously trying to sprint. I’m on my toes, I have a decent forward lean, and I can even maintain an okay turnover speed.

I really, really wanted to be done after the 1200 but I figured that if King Leonidas fought to the death at Thermopylae with 300 guys then I could at least finish 3.5 more laps of sprinting. I really focused on my turnover and I was delighted to see my speed maintained at 9 mph, then 9.4 mph. Finally, during my last 200m, I got my speed to 10 mph. WOO!

After having done two speed workouts now, I have come to the conclusion that those things are brutal. Twenty-six minutes of speed was harder for me than most of my long runs. But at the end of the day, I want to know that I tried everything to be faster in that next 5k, even if it’s my least favorite kind of workout. It took me three years in high school to realize that in fact I did not care for Track & Field at all, and it’s taken me almost five years to come to a grudging agreement with myself: I will do speedwork on the track as long as I don’t have to spend hours there competing in events I don’t even enjoy. I drive a hard bargain. But I continue to learn new things: how to force quickness during a 1200, how it feels to maintain a decent turnover when I don’t want to, how to sprint. I might loathe speedwork and I might not be any good at it right now but I can already see some improvement.

As we walked away from the track, a girl who had been doing some 200m repeats with her Dad was complaining about how much she disliked the track. “I’d rather run 10 miles [the way she said it was similar to the way I sometimes say that I'd rather run fifty miles than do something else] than do those sprints.” And I thought, “Me too.” But someday, grasshopper, you’ll either quit running forever or decide that you’d rather suffer a little on the track than finish a race thinking What if I’d done some speedwork?

And so the search for a new track workout begins again!

Saturday night we race the sunset down to the beach and push the corners of our beach towels into the sand because the wind is that strong. In front of nine other beach-goers—four teenagers, two who are perhaps senior citizens, and three young men who never leave the food they have on the grill by the stone and cement pavilion—we run screaming into the water. The running is necessary because the push of the waves against the shore is enough to keep you on the dry sand if you don’t have enough forward momentum. The screaming is necessary because that’s what you do when you run headlong into giant waves that crest and fold over each other right into your waist five feet from the shore.

These waves are a once-a-summer thing, my sister tells me. They only happen when a cold front comes in and drives all the sun-warmed water from the top of the lake toward the shore. I’m not prepared despite the screaming and sudden bravery and the undertow knocks me forward into shallow water. My balance is gone for a few moments like I’m losing my sea legs from a long trip, but I have no choice but to scramble onto my feet, thanking god for the Five Fingers that have become my water shoes and the grip they have on the ankle-sized rocks that cover the lake’s floor. I wish I had my Noodle! I shout at Caitlin over the wind, even though I haven’t owned one of those slightly ridiculous flotation devices in years. If you had it, you’d float out to sea!

Caitlin is braver than I am and she has already leaped over several waves by the time my body remembers the childhood art of jumping up to meet each wave as it comes. She points out toward the horizon, saying It looks like a storm is coming, but it’s not and I know she’s right. Neither of us can stop laughing.  I am nearly overwhelmed with the sheer joy of jumping over waves. And they are huge waves. Thirty feet from shore, when the water is usually waist-deep (even for me), the water is over my head each time a wave rolls in.

If you catch a wave that is cresting and push off from the rocks at just the right moment, it will throw you toward the shore. Once I am almost carried completely out of the water by a wave I didn’t see coming, and I spend the rest of the time we are at the beach looking for waves with similar power. In that moment, hurled over rocks and sand in a rush of water, I was not in control. It’s a human illusion that we’re ever in control over large bodies of water, but on a still day it’s easy to think so. I have to fight my way back out to a more comfortable depth. The secret of waves is that most of them crest near the shore, and if you can get beyond the point where they crest you can bob up and down in a relatively calm manner. I never go quite that far.

We are leaping a particularly large wave when Caitlin says Do you see the three-masted schooner? I jump over the next wave and look where she’s pointing, but I don’t have my glasses and all I can see is a vague shape. It’s facing us right now, so all you can see is the front she says, so I jump again and let her description resolve the blur. In fact she is the only thing I can see clearly—not the shore, not the faraway clouds, not truly the schooner. Once out of the corner of my eye I think I see a person swimming far out in the lake, almost beyond the length of the pier. It’s a buoy, Caitlin tells me, and I’m relieved because for a minute I was sure that person would drown.

After a while we realize that we have drifted far down the shore from our towels. I can see the bright colors against the sand. Caitlin lands from one of her leaps on a huge rock that’s totally invisible beneath the seething surface of the water. We decide to go back toward the towels, but it’s much easier to go with the water than against it. Our progress against the waves is slow, and between waves I run parallel to the shore. My toes wrap around each individual rock and push off. A gigantic wave crests right on top of me, and I land with what finally seems like perfect balance, facing the next oncoming wave like a snowboarder, like a Warrior pose, prepared, and I think This is as close as I’ll ever get to surfing, or flying. Caitlin is farther ahead than I am, and she, aside from the lighthouse, is the only other beacon to head toward.

Getting back in front of the towels is the grand adventure of the trip, and once we’ve reached the end of it we spend more time jumping waves. I hate swimming in cold water and so have only been out in the lake one other time all summer, but the water now is like bathwater. It’s warmer than the air. I never want to leave.

Eventually there comes a moment when the waves get too large, and the sky is just a little too dark. One of them catches me before I’m ready and completely covers me, even though we’re not far from the shore at all, and I breathe in some water. Another reminder of my relative insignificance in comparison to the universe and even in comparison to this lake, which is a tiny speck compared to the ocean, and how easy it is to be bested by water.

We race the lake onto the sand. The running is necessary because if you’re not with the waves you’re against them, and if one catches the back of your knees you’ll go down in the shin-deep water and hopefully miss the sharp rocks but probably not. Our towels have miraculously survived the whipping wind and that same wind wraps them for us when we haul them out of the sand. My sister’s hair is windswept and falling from its braid. I’ve lost two barretts to the lake. On the way to the car, we see the typical gathering of teenagers up to no good loitering near their cars and thinking they are invisible. It’s just like old times, says Caitlin, and I know she’s talking about the teenagers, but I think instead of the five-year-old and seven-year-old and nine-year-old joy of leaping waves with your sister nearby in water like a bath, with the sun setting over everything.

It’s another cloudy morning in Lansing, but this morning I wasn’t in the mood to let anything short of a thunderstorm (with lightning!) keep me from running. The vacation is officially over.

I threw on my blue coordinated running outfit and reflective vest and was good to go. My plan was just a straight run for about an hour (I guess, given what I learned this week, it could be a tempo run or an “easy” run) but within the first two minutes I knew that it just wasn’t going to go down that way. Intervals. It had to be intervals.

I warmed up for five minutes. During that time, my workout came to me: one-minute hard efforts with varying amounts of recovery between each one. I gave myself three minutes after the first sprint and then kept it in a range from 30 seconds of recovery to two minutes. It’s amazing how quickly the scenery goes by when you run really fast for a minute every so often. It felt like I was being fast forwarded through my run, which I have to say is not an altogether unpleasant feeling.

The hard workout was over just shy of the 41-minute mark as I learned when I tried to do one last 30-second effort and was completely denied by my legs. “Absolutely not,” they said. “Are you kidding?” “Fine, fine,” I thought, and “cooled down” for the next four minutes. 6.11 miles. Not bad.

This interval workout was definitely had some improvements from last week’s. I was more aware of my pace and tried to stay fast even when I was recovering from the intervals. It definitely worked: I brought my average pace down to a 7:22, which was great considering my first mile was an 8:00. My legs were also actually tired by the end. I finished the main interval set by pairing one-minute intervals with decreasing recovery times: 1:30, 1:00, :45, :30, and :15. That last set was the biggest challenge of the workout, and I think it’s definitely something I could incorporate into more of my runs. Even though I chose to do that particular “ladder” with the recoveries, my brain was still going, “WAIT! No! Not ready! Fifteen seconds, are you kidding?” I still pulled off that last minute-long effort. Overall, I feel like I’m finally getting an idea of what a hard workout for me actually is. Win.

Something else also happened during my run today: the world righted itself and the giant void in my soul from the last three days was filled. I don’t know how it is for other people, but when I don’t run, nothing is quite the same and nothing is quite right. It was pretty much three days of that feeling you get when you walk into a room and can’t remember why you came in or what you were looking for, but you know that something is missing. Except I did know. Even martial arts class wasn’t the same! I just can’t help it. Running is just my thing. Plus, when I don’t run I can’t think of all the perfect things to say to choice individuals who irritate me, and that’s just sad.

In other words, it’s a good day. No, a GREAT day—because tonight we’re going to see Jim Gaffigan! And tomorrow I get to go home!

Happy Friday!

After my surprise Tuesday running vacation, I had big plans to jump right back into my regular routine and bust it for the rest of the week.

Wednesday morning was dark and cloudy, but at 6:15 I forced myself to get up and put on my running clothes. I told Jack that I would be back very shortly. I planned on a 30-minute interval workout and figured that I could make up for not running as long by running faster. As I was going down our apartment stairs I noticed that the sidewalk was wet. I stepped out onto the sidewalk. It wasn’t raining, but it didn’t look great either. And I didn’t want to run. I just didn’t feel like it. Normally I would just start running anyway, but I didn’t. I went back upstairs, but my running clothes back in my bag, and got back into bed.

I brought everything to work with me yesterday planning to run after work but when 4:30 came I still didn’t want to. My only workout ended up being martial arts class, which is almost never as difficult as the instructors imagine. One of the teachers made a point of asking if anyone in the leadership group had eaten in the hour before class. When we finally split off from the main group, I was expecting a really brutal workout. Not so much. The combinations that we worked on were definitely new and more complicated but—sorry to say—I’ve yet to go to a martial arts class that even touches how I felt at mile 15 of the Old Kent.

Now it’s Thursday and once again I did not run. I woke up a little while ago in the dark and I just…didn’t want to go. I think part of the problem is that I haven’t quite adjusted to the darkness at 6:00 a.m. that began last week. Now 7:15 a.m. looks like 6:00 a.m. should, but that doesn’t leave much time before I need to be at the office. Another slight difficulty this morning is that one of the muscles in my butt (yes, that same thing that tormented me a while back) hurts again. This time I’m almost sure that the rear leg roundhouse kicks we did yesterday are to blame.

I’ve spent about half the time since Monday feeling guilty and half feeling all right because in the back of my mind I keep remembering my shins from Monday. Still, something is definitely missing. It’s weird for me to wake up and not want to go running, and it’s even weirder to not find any reason to get myself out the door. Could it be that I actually just needed a break?

At any rate, I think this vacation is about over. I have plans (in my usual fashion) to run after work even if it’s hot. It won’t be a very long run because I have class at 6:00 and I just want to see how it goes. And after today it’s time to start seriously gearing up for the transition to fall and winter running. OMG!

Sometimes my plans don’t work out, but the not-working-out usually follows a lovely day full of things mostly working out. For example, yesterday I had a pretty great day. I got in eight miles in just over an hour before work (tempo run!). When I got home, I set out to finish the entire Pure Burn Super Strength video and I almost made it. I have to say that that workout routine is brutal. I can make it through the first 40 minutes with only a few loud complaints, but the last 20 minutes is just out of my reach at this point. For whatever reason, I just can’t do 40 minutes of crazy strength exercises and then follow it up with 20 minutes of T-stands and pushups and T-stand and pushup combinations. My elbows start to give out.

After my video, Rachael came over from Ann Arbor and we went to martial arts class (it’s buddy week!). There were a ton of people in class and I had an excellent time. We got to watch the kids do some of their obstacle course, which I was almost a little jealous of. Then we followed up martial arts with a trip to La Senorita. Win.

Yesterday was the equivalent of the hard part of an interval workout. Today was the equivalent of a “recovery” interval. I had every intention of pulling out another week of ridiculous workouts but realized yesterday afternoon that my shins were, in fact, bothering me. They bothered me for five out of the eight miles I ran Monday morning. Although I really hate to turn down my own plans, I just had a feeling that an interval workout would not be a smart idea for this morning. Thus, I did not run. Oddly enough, I’m not even very sore this morning. My arms feel a little sore, but it’s 1/100th of the soreness I experienced last week. It’s bizarre. I felt like I tried even harder with the Super Strength video last night and afterward I was pretty wiped, but this morning…nothing. Is it possible for muscle soreness to be delayed?

It is a little sad because it’s another perfect morning for running, but I’d rather not crack my shins in half and miss the Crim (and all my other races) because I refused to take a day off. After work we’re attending a Meet the Spartans event downtown—I can’t wait to get the pictures from the women’s football clinic signed—so who knows? I might have time for an extremely light jog after that. Or maybe not. Either way—it’s Tuesday, I’m alive, and I can’t complain.

Happy Tuesday!