Run on Sentences: 31 December 2011

On resolutions and races - or - in which the New Year's Baby author again falls into the trap of making resolutions...

According to my Garmin Training Center App (which logs each and every mile run wearing your Garmin), I’ve run over 1200 miles this year. Actually, that’s false. The treadmill and watch-free miles aren’t on there. On the road today, I figured that it’s likely closer to 1600. It seems crazy as a bulk sum, but during a run it never seams like it’s a tremendous undertaking (with the exception of marathons and the two 22 milers on the treadmill).

Since my Garmin reset to register 2011 runs, I have been on the receiving end of so many blessings. I stayed healthy enough to run some great races. I stayed strong enough to cross the finish line when it would have been so easy to quit. I stayed hopeful enough to push through on those days when the miles would never end.

In a year that’s felt like it’s had some especially prevalent downs, running has been the one constant that has helped me reflect, regroup and reinvigorate. I made it a point this year to be sure to remember that whatever happens in a given day, nothing will be as fulfilling and difficult as that last long run or that last tough speed workout. For the most part, it’s worked. And for that, I’m eternally grateful.

If I’m honest, I’m waiting with bated breath until the year changes and the world seems anew. I crave that blessed point at midnight when all of the unfortunate occurrences that plague us officially take place in the previous year and there’s a real chance to take another crack at life.

At 12:00:01 on January 1, 2012, I will officially be in my mid-late 20s. In my late teens to early 20s, I’ve had some incredible experiences. I’ve lived and worked abroad, gotten a top-notch education, married my best friend, ran a winning campaign, finished 3 marathons... The blessings really do abound. But at 26, it’s time to get real about long-term goals and how I achieve them. Life is so unfulfilled when things “just happen” to me. It’s terrifying not to be in control of things, so in 2012, I pledge to regain that it.

In the meantime, I have some planning to do. I need to figure out how to make every day extraordinary. This starts by establishing some realistic, tangible goals to give each day purpose. Resolutions, if you will. Here it goes...

1. Qualify for the Boston Marathon

This is a big one. The biggest. Since I set my mind to going 26.2 the first time, this has always been what gets me through the doldrums that are long runs. It sounds lame, but I choke up thinking about that moment when I cross the line and realize that I’ve achieved that 3:30:00 or better. I came so painfully close in Philly this year. Just 95 seconds (that’s a 3:36:26 for those playing along at home). Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally proud of that time. It’s a 20+ minute P(ersonal)R(ecord), but the Boston Athletic Association doesn’t care. I had debilitating cramping over the last four miles and when my legs gave out and I took a spill in the chutes, I saw that minute and a half whiz by. Through off-season maintenance, improved nutrition and smarter training - combined with the right race - I hope to finally feel what it’s like to have made it.
I’d be lying if I said this was a sure shot - I’ve made that mistake before. I said in the spring that this would be the year I got my first BQ. I realized early on in training that I’d show a new level of foolishness and cavalier if I honestly thought that I’d easily BQ. In the UPMC Shadyside ER I learned that any race could go fanasticly wrong at any time. I thought for sure during the first half of the Pittsburgh Marathon that all would go well. And then the weather changed, I couldn’t get water fast enough, I overheated and got carted away at mile 17. That’ll teach anyone to show absolute reverence to the marathon. But if on that one day next year before the cutoff date, things go right and those 95 seconds are spent celebrating, I’ll be the among the most grateful runners to cross the line.

2. Run a sub-20-minute 5k race

Goals 1 and 2 really coincide, but yikes, this one might be tough. Speed training begets endurance and endurance begets being able to sustain speeds for a longer time. Strides, 5-k goal pace mile repeats, tempo runs, and a sweet flat course will be the key to this.  

This year, my best was a 21:37 on a course with about 800m of nasty uphill. I gave it everything I had and was the second overall woman. The first woman finisher was over 40 and went to the Olympic trials either last time or the time before. She was incredible and my inspiration for this.

Also, finding a race in a season other than summer would be smart...

3. Write more

I have this neat thing called a blog. It’s doing no good sitting there without new content. I must get into the habit of putting things in it. Writing and running have been some of the biggest constants in recent years. If I’m to continue to hone this craft, I need to put meaningful, honest pieces in this space...even if nobody cares enough about my life and my running to read it. The process of writing something for public consumption is tremendous for creativity. Heck, I even bought myself a nifty idea book. I really have no excuse.


My old pastor used to say that none of us knows what our days will hold. For some of us, there will be great triumph; for others the sadness of defeat. He was completely right. I may not fully accomplish these or another goal that I set for myself this year. But I learned ever so fully this year that it’s the work that we do leading up to the race that matters just as much - if not more - than what our chip time reads out.

May you and yours be blessed with the triumph that comes from constantly working to live more simply and better. And if you’re like me and still believe in resolutions, I hope a year from now you can look back and feel at least some sense of satisfaction in the ever-evolving goals of life.

Run on Sentences: 27 October 2011

In which the author finds this subject matter apropos in light Tuesday’s “National Married to a Runner Appreciation Day”...


About a week after the Steamtown Marathon, I returned to my alma mater for our homecoming weekend. A small, private liberal arts school, Lebanon Valley College is tucked into a quaint little town surrounded by rolling hills. With another 26.2 under my belt, my college years seemed so far away, even though I only graduated in 2008. LVC was that special place where I became an adult… and a runner.


Upon returning from my semester abroad with some extra pounds, I decided that when I got back on campus, I would get fit. So I joined in on some fitness classes and – more importantly to this author – got on a treadmill. I’d load music onto my listening device and resolved to walk less and run more. I’d go early in the morning or before the dinner hour and catch a news program on the gym TVs. Before I knew it, I could run a whole mile in under 10 minutes. A WHOLE MILE. It felt amazing.

Summer rolled around and I took to the trail loop around the church by my home. An approximlately 1.5 mile oval, I’d aim for at least two loops twice a week. In those summer months, everything started to change: I was breathing easier, stressing less, I shed some pounds, and my allergies started to recede. I also met my future husband and running partner, Victor, who was working on a campaign in the same building where I was interning.

I returned to LVC and took to clipping off miles in town. I became faster, fitter and more focused in class. Under the guise of me organizing our campus to get out the vote for the political campaign on which he was working, Victor and I began chatting regularly. And before we knew it, the bulk of our discussions turned to running. Building a friendship around campaigns and miles, I finally had someone with whom to share aches, pains and achievements.

Victor and I worked together on the Governor's 2007 inaugural ball and by spring break, we were dating. Now I had a reason to stay fit. That May we entered a 5k race on campus. It was a hot, pollen-laden morning and I was all nerves. Victor told me he’d stay at my pace and we’d cross the finish together. We got out of the gate and started plugging away, taking it a step at a time. By mile 2, my allergies got the best of my breathing. We walked until I caught my breath and then we picked back up with his encouragement. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to sit. I was in agony. But I wouldn’t quit. So I started shuffling and got back to a decent stride. More than a half an hour later, we finally finished.

It may be counter-intuitive for a feminist-leaning woman to say, but I couldn’t have done it without Victor. It was one of the most physically difficult things I’d done, and he never left my side. Three years later, we exchanged vows in April and ran a marathon in November.

Strolling along my old running route (and part of that very 5k course), so many amazing memories of college came flooding back. Exams. Football games. Snowstorms. Falling leaves. Cherry blossoms. Butterflies (both kinds). Your alma mater always stays with you wherever you go. It’s that place that ties you to such a special time in your life... and some things far more difficult than a 5k. You can come home to it and everything possible may have changed, but it will always be hazed with that soft-focus familiarity. LVC was so much more than an education… that place where I laced up, changed for the best and fell in love. 


And that’s something worth coming home to...

Run on Sentences: Originally Posted 24 September 2011

 In which the author sends profuse apologies to the three or four (or however many) readers who’ve gone without a new posting for so long...

I read two magazines cover-to-cover each month:  Runner’s World and Vogue. I’ve been reading Vogue since I was strong enough to lift the infamous September Issue and have always revered its artful images. Ever entranced by the masterpieces of fashions vanguard and newcomers alike, I always had inspiration for morning dressing and felt a passion for amazing design. Unfortunately (like many averaged-sized folks), I’ve frequently felt very uncomfortable with the magazine’s advertisers’ use of the ultra-thin model. Body image plagued me growing up and Vogue didn’t always help. It’s a familiar story of muscular girls seeing photos of a 5’ 10”, 100 lb., endlessly airbrushed model - her gaunt face oozing a vapid, frigid form of distorted sexuality. The clothes are amazing, but the skin-and-bones human coat hangers were, are, and will be anything but.

I will always love Vogue for opening me up to the beauty, creativity and mastery of the art of fashion. I now put aside grapples with body image to be exposed to its celebration of gorgeous self-adornment at its best. I will always get a little giddy each month on delivery day and eagerly pour over each and every page.

Runner’s World and I have a much newer relationship; however, as I perused the October issue, I had a revelation:  What would happen if that gorgeous woman on the cover of Runner’s World  put on haute couture? She’s muscular, sure, but she’s still super lean, tremendously powerful and natural. I’m no fool, she’s probably airbrushed, too, but they sure didn’t contour her figure until she looked like she had a BMI of 13.

This got me thinking about what runners find attractive. Are we privy to another aesthetic  because normal for us is sweaty, dirty covered in synthetic fabrics? What is beautiful to us?

One morning this summer, I opened up my favorite political blog and found a spin-off on The Hill’s “Most Beautiful” list, adapted for Harrisburg. A largely subjective spread of adulation from doting spouses and inside jokes from co-workers, it’s usually a good source of a few chuckles. I got halfway through the entry and found a photo of none other than yours truly. After the blushing and heartwarming, I noticed the photo my husband posted with it:  me at a race on one very hot Independence Day. No makeup. Wilted. Unflattering blue shorts. Ick, I thought, grimacing at the photo in comparison to the glamour shots next to some of the others. Of all the photos he chose, why not one where we’re all dolled up? Like from our wedding, maybe?

But then I thought about it some more:  I don’t think – even at my sweatiest – that I’ve ever been embarrassed by my appearance while running. Never worried that my hair is out of place (it typically is). Never thought about sliding makeup or lack thereof. Never worried what the size on my shorts said. It didn’t matter:  I was running.

Many of us probably grew up with some form of body issue or dysmorphic disorder wherein we became entirely too preoccupied with our body composition. But I’m certain that most of us lose that self-consciousness when we step off. We’re making something of ourselves. We’re becoming beautiful, inside and out.

Runners may have a strange aesthetic, but we can agree that what’s beautiful to us is natural. Some of us are brawny and muscular, others are compact and a bit bony in places. But we believe that we were meant to be out there, huffing and puffing through mile after mile without makeup.

When we finish a run, we may be bug bitten. We may be dirty. We may have frozen or disheveled hair. But our hearts are warm and our spirits are full, even when our tanks are empty. This is beauty.


Beauty is the contour and movement of strong muscles pushing through to the end.
Beauty are the rosy cheeks that follow a hard sprint.
Beauty is sweat glistening on skin tanned from the sun.
Beauty is crossing the finish line.
Beauty is the run. And we are beautiful.

Run on Sentences: Originally Posted 18 August 2011

In which a British invasion of thoughts imbues my run... 

Yesterday morning, as I was running in Riverfront Park in Harrisburg, I couldn’t help but focus my attention on the Susquehanna River. The morning was foggy and purplish grey, casting an unusual patina on the water. There wasn’t the brilliant sunrise coming over the back of the riverfront buildings. There were no rays reflecting on the water. There was no illumination of suburbia alongside the other bank of the river. Just a murky mass to my left. I couldn’t help but stare at it and let my thoughts wander.

Maybe it was the drum & bass sounds of London Elektricity in my ears that automatically sent my thoughts to England, but at that moment, it all looked eerily like my memories of the River Mersey. In those moments, I recalled my short visit to Liverpool when I was 19 and studying abroad in London.

I took a walk along the quay and made my way to the Albert Dock (home to the Beatles Story exhibit and the Tate Liverpool - go there). I stood on the edge, leaning on the ropes and looked out into nothing. A grey, all-engulfing, cotton candy-like mass atop the water. The cold autumnal fog sat so thick, that if a giant river monster were to have jumped out, I might have missed it until it was too late. I remember immensely enjoying the mystery of walking along the river and not knowing what lay in the water. 

Again, maybe it was the entrancing music, but I then thought of the Merseyside murk in sharp contrast to the ebullient sun that often graced the River Thames in London. Sure, there were many instances of that ubiquitous grey fog of London lore, but those sparkling sunny days are the ones forever emblazoned in my mind. Long sunset/ evening walks along the Victoria Embankment after I finished a day's work at my Westminster internship were some of the most beautiful and peaceful times. 

A quarter mile later I shook off the haze of romanticized memories and wondered why I never ran while I was in London. It wasn’t until after I returned Stateside that I took up the lifestyle in earnest. The thought boggled my mind - to the point where I was upset for neglecting her streets. Sure, I walked everywhere, but runners know there’s no better way to explore a place than through the run. Dodging her cockney street vendors. Intricately navigating her cobblestone alleys and treacherous zebra crossings. Listening to her street buskers serenade with their folk tunes and garage hip hop. Blazing through her streets so quickly that the smell of the pie shop fuses with the kebab stand to create its own titillating musk. I still regret not taking full advantage of exploring her streets and parks like that. (It probably would have also helped moderate the somewhat weighty effects of discovering a deep appreciation for sipping a fine IPA.)

As has been made fairly explicit, while I love my life now, I will always miss London terribly. She’s a dirty, loud, diverse mix of aristocracy, art, immigration and innovation like no other. She’s a writer’s and runner’s dream. I encountered so much self-realization there and I find myself wishing that I had discovered running, too. It could have been my constant connection to all of the amazing vistas and experiences I was blessed to see and have over there - far superior to any souvenir. 

In my quest to make the most of marathoning, I decided last year (after my first) that I’d like to try to run all five majors in my lifetime. While what Boston means could fill months’ worth of postings, after I finish it, I’m most looking forward to returning to London. And this time, running there. Even if several years pass until my husband and I run the London Marathon, I can’t wait to be a part of this incredible, friendly, elite race and maybe apologize to that amazing place for not celebrating it like I have so many other cities. And what could be better than honoring this gem of a city, than running the mother of all London courses and rediscovering all of her many jewels?

But for now, I’ll settle for brief glimpses into memories past... if for nothing else than to help the miles go by just a bit quicker...

Run on Sentences: Originally Posted 15 August 2011

 In which eloquence eludes my quest to begin...

So I’ve been staring at this screen for far too long. Starting can be hard, you know. Like getting into a pool that you know is cold: You dip in your toes and you just know that if you get in too slowly, by the time you’re navel-deep it’ll be pure misery. So you find the diving board and get it sorted all at once.

Whenever I start writing something, it’s the same way. I can’t just finesse my way into a clever introduction, dipping in each proverbial toe with tremendous grace. Oh, no no no. I have to jump right in to the guts of the piece, random notes on bits of paper strewn everywhere, as if they were splashes from a most excellent cannonball.

Come to think of it, wouldn’t so many things just be easier if we jumped right in? I’m not suggesting we go for a bit of a jog around the block one day and the next decide to run a marathon, but in this instance, the idea seems to work…

For instance, I have no idea why I’m writing a blog about running. Nor the foggiest idea who will read it. Sure, writing and running are two of my favorite things ever, but a blog? Where strangers can see it? Like other runners, I talk about running constantly. But like other runners, the subject can be deeply personal. We all need an outlet to vent/cope/brag about what’s going on, but sometimes sharing those bits can get a bit uncomfortable – like cold pool water on your midsection.

I can’t sit here and promise that I’ll weave together intricate strings of 100% grammatically and mechanically correct prose, the likes of which would dazzle Frost and delight the Bard. That would display grotesque quantities of hubris that surely no one could stomach. Nor can I promise that I’ll write one sentence of profound realization that will forever change the running world. I can promise that the words here will be open and honest, brutally so if need be. Because even if I’m the only one who sees this, it will serve as a constant reminder of perhaps the longest, greatest journey that I will ever have: running.

(That is, naturally, other than marriage to another runner... but that’s another post for another day).

Either way, welcome to Run On Sentences.

Run on Sentences 24 October 2011: Greeting from our new blog home!

In an effort to streamline posting and expand the community, Run on Sentences is now inhabiting a little section of blogspot. I hope it works out. Post - as I remember to do so - can still be found at the Loop, the Runners World community page.

For those unfamiliar, Run on Sentences is this author's musings on, about, surrounding and during the run. I will try to expand its breath as we take this journey together.

The goal is to enlighten the world (or waste its time) every Monday and Thursday as I'm able. But not the Monday after big Sunday races. Unless there's bragging to do.

There'll be no Monday entry, but to get you started, I'll be reposting the first three entries this evening.

Welcome. Come run with me...