Weekend Update!

Fundraising Goal Accomplished!

Thanks to my dad's generous donation and another one from a kind anonymous, I have reached my fundraising goal! When I set $1000 as my goal, I had no idea how giving you all were going to be. I thought it would take $20 and $25 donations from quite a few of my friends and family to make it to the thousand dollar mark; I have been very pleasantly surprised by the number of donations so far as well as the generosity of those who've donated.

I hope those among you who have not yet donated will continue to consider it. Any amount you are comfortable contributing will be greatly appreciated by me, my dad, and those cancer survivors and family members that the Lance Armstrong Foundation supports. Donations can be made by visiting my fundraising website.

Winter Weather

Billy has been hoping for one good winter storm this season; I have been hoping the sun will come out and allow me to leave my coat home in the closet. I despise a forecast like this as much as Billy loves it. I can't deny that the timing is good, however; he can hope for one last chance at a decent storm while I take a bit of a break and rest my body before entering the final few weeks of my training regimen.

National Marathon News

This morning I visited the website for the National Marathon for the first time since I qualified and registered, and I discovered that the Half Marathon portion has sold out! Thank goodness I qualified in time!

The National Marathon encourages you to "share your story" with their communications director. The website says "your story may even be part of the television race day coverage." I submitted my story after I registered for the race, and I haven't heard anything back, but maybe they will still get in touch with me. I thought that since I don't have any training info to post today, I'd "share my story" here instead:

While running the National Half Marathon, my strides will take me exactly 13.1 miles. But I'm running the race because of more significant distances and vastly more important strides. In 2004, I graduated from college and left my home in Oregon to move east to start a new life in Maryland. I never even thought twice about it.

In the winter of 2005/2006, I felt every one of the 2,800 miles that separated me from my father when he was diagnosed with colon cancer at age 53. I was a year and a half into my career as a public high school teacher, so I couldn't afford the time or money it would cost to drop everything and go home for my dad's surgery. His doctor was able to remove all the cancerous tissue, and my friends who still lived back home went to visit him in the hospital. This helped to assuage some of my guilt about not being there, but the feeling lingered. All spring and summer, my dad endured chemotherapy sessions every other week to ensure that the cancer would never return. When he finished his chemo regimen, his doctor suggested that there was a 90% chance he would remain cancer-free.

Cancer brought me closer to my dad. After his diagnosis, we spent more time talking on the phone than we ever had previously. In the summer of 2007, my dad walked me down the aisle and gave me away to the man for whom I moved to Maryland in the first place. He couldn't have been more happy or more proud of my husband and me when we began our new life as a married couple. My dad was excited to see the house we had just purchased and hear our plans to redecorate it. He seemed to be a picture of health at my wedding; we had no way of knowing the tumors were again growing inside him.

In October 2007, my dad called to break the bad news. One of his routine scans revealed that he had three tumors in his liver. For the past year and a half, my dad has been undergoing different chemotherapy treatments of various degrees. Every time it seems that the chemo has done its job, and he gets a short break from the treatments, the tumors reappear. Over the holidays, he told us that if this round of chemotherapy treatments is not successful, he will have about 40% of his liver removed. This will make him unable to work and force him to dramatically change his diet.

Meanwhile, I'm still all those 2,800 miles away. We continue to make it a point to talk to each other regularly on the phone, and we get to see one another in person several times a year. But I've never been there to sit with my dad through a chemotherapy session. I've never been home to help him recover from a treatment. I've never been along to hear the latest prognosis from the doctor. When my dad gets discouraging news, he not only has to figure out how to cope with it himself, he has to call me and rehash all the difficult details so that I'm aware of what's going on. Through all of this, his hope and determination have never wavered. He believes strongly in the message of the Lance Armstrong Foundation, which says that "Unity is strength. Knowledge is power. Attitude is everything."

This winter, I got tired of feeling helpless. I refused to believe that there was nothing I could do. I tried to figure out what I could do to help my dad, and I decided that I had to run the National Half Marathon. He coached all of my athletic teams throughout my childhood, and when I ran the Chicago Marathon in 2003, he flew into town to cheer me on. I knew he would be proud of me for putting the running shoes back on. I've also chosen to participate in the race to raise money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. This will give my family and friends the chance to feel like they, too, are doing something more than just sitting around, waiting for the results of my dad's next scan. The LAF provides support for those who have just been diagnosed with cancer, those who are battling the disease, and those who are surviving it. My dad and I have always had great support from our family and friends. Through raising money for the LAF, I hope the members of our support system will be able to provide support for others who are not so lucky.

The 13.1 miles of the National Half Marathon seem short in comparison to the 2,800 miles between me and my dad. I hope, however, that running this race will help me feel like I'm bridging that gap. The strides I am taking to raise money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation through the support of my family and friends will help others continue living meaningful lives long after they are first diagnosed with cancer.

With every stride I take, every mile I cover, and every dollar I raise, I am saying I will not let cancer rule my life. I will not let the disease make me feel helpless. I will channel my anger and fear into making a positive change in the world. I will support my dad's determination to fight for his life. I will help the thousands of people across the country and throughout the world that battle this disease every day.

Next up, foot pain

Thursday's Run:
Distance: 4.4 miles
Time/Pace: I am choosing not to look.

My body is not particularly happy with me right now. I'm about to lose a toenail on my left foot. I'm managing the soreness in my knee, but now my right foot is giving me trouble. It hurts to push off on the ball of my foot. You know how sometimes you're driving along, and you see a person running, with that miserable expression on her face? And you think, "Why is she putting herself through that?" Yesterday, that was me. I managed to "run" the whole distance, but only in the sense that there was a moment in each stride where both of my feet were off the ground, not in the sense that I was moving with any speed. It's probably safe to say my feet were barely off the ground; I felt like I was skating along with bricks in my shoes instead of feet.

Tomorrow, I'm supposed to run 12 miles, which would conclude the phase of my training where I'm adding miles. After that, I get to start cutting back to rest my body for the actual race while still staying in shape. My body is ready for that rest. I think I will take off tomorrow (the weather is supposed to be nasty, anyway), and see how I feel on Sunday and Monday. Hopefully I can get my run in on one of those days. I hate that I can't complete every training run, but I don't want to sabotage my ability to compete in the actual race.

Donations Update:
Thanks Andrew! I appreciate your contribution and I know my dad will be glad to hear about it, as well!

B- Game

Monday's Run:

Distance: 4.68 miles

Time: 46:46

Pace: 9:58 per mile

Today's Run:

Distance: 6.42 miles

Time: 1:05:52

Pace: 10:16 per mile

Monday, Paula Radcliffe came on my iPod to tell me I had recorded a new personal best for one of the miles I ran (9:08, apparently). Today, however, I did not have my A game. I was trying to put one foot in front of the other, but I could never get into any kind of rhythm. Usually the high point of my run is when I reach the halfway point, because I know it's all downhill from there... but even making it halfway today did not feel exhilerating.

With about a mile to go, I could tell that I was running really slow. I would have liked to walk the last mile, to be perfectly honest. Instead, I tried to run as fast as I could. I was hoping Paula Radcliffe would come on to tell me that was a new record, but she didn't. At least I finished strong.

Donations update:

NaNa and Mr. Dick, thanks so much for your donation and your continual demonstration that my family has really become your family.

Erin, your contribution is appreciated just as much as your continued support throughout the entire duration since my dad's diagnosis. I miss being able to stop in and talk.

Anonymous, you know what your friendship means to me, in all the ways you find to show it.

The Final Mile

Thursday's Run:

Distance: 4.71 miles

Time: 50:07

Pace: 10:38 per mile

Today's Run:

Distance: 12.08 miles

Time: 2:04:10

Pace: 10:16 per mile

I didn't want to run today, and I had to drag myself out the door to get started. Before I left, Billy said, "You don't want to go, do you?" Despite this, I felt great for the first 10 miles. I was finally able to lose myself in the act of running, and I was passing mile markers without even knowing it. Until I got to the last mile. I was exhausted, and my stomach was growling, and I'd been running for nearly two hours... but I dialed up "Right Round" on my iPod, and rode Flo Rida's flow right to the end. I defy you to put that song on and not speed up your pace!

When I got home, I plugged in my iPod to see how steady my pace had been and discovered that more donations had been made while I'd been gone.

Cash, I hope you see a cure for cancer in your lifetime. Thank you (and Jay and Allen) for your donation. Patti, Chuck, and Brian, I am touched by your generosity. Mimi and Papa, I was excited to get your check in the mail yesterday, and have sent it in along with the form.

I'm not often at a loss for words, but when it comes to the donations, all I know to say is: I'm humbled. Thank you.

Perhaps it is on those days when we want to do something the least that completing the act has the biggest payoff.

Just like the old days

Today's Run:

Distance: 6.29 miles

Time: 1:07:10

Pace: 10:40 per mile

This morning, it snowed. When I got home, it was raining on and off and it had "warmed up" to the upper 30s. The deck was covered in slush, so I assumed I was relegated to the treadmill for today's run. After 2 miles on the treadmill, however, I had to get outside. (Aside from the treadmill serving as a psychological torture machine, I've become convinced that I can't take a normal stride on that belt. I feel like I'm taking twice as many steps per mile and I can't get any forward momentum going.)

I put on a track jacket, but I left on my shorts. This turned out to be a bit of a mistake, because my legs were numb almost instantly. After a few minutes, I realized why the feeling was so familiar.

The last time I can remember experiencing this sensation, I was a middle school soccer player. In Oregon, the weather always turned before the season ended. This meant there were a few games at the end that were miserable. Little 70 pound me would put my hooded Dynamites sweatshirt on under my jersey and run around in the cold rainy mess for the entire game. I can remember that before the game and at halftime, I would pull my soccer socks all the way up to cover the exposed skin on my thighs. Meanwhile, my dad and Krista's dad were always standing on the sidelines in their matching coaching parkas. I would look over when Bart yelled "ANTICIPATE!" and see them in boots, jeans, and these parkas while I ran around trapping the ball, which felt like a giant frozen snowball, with the inside of my thigh. The imprint would stay on my leg for the rest of the afternoon.

Why didn't we ever think to wear leggings under our shorts and shinguards? I KNOW we all had them.

Donations Update:

Thanks Vickie! I know how long it takes to make that amount as a college student. : )

Don't you get bored?

Saturday's Qualifying Run:
Distance: 5k (3.1 miles)
Official Time: 29:55
Pace: 9:38 per mile
Place: 374 out of 601

Billy: "I tasted that thing you ate before I threw the wrapper away. It was disgusting."
Liz: "The Clif Shot? It was raspberry flavored."
Billy: "It tasted like a raspberry that a bird pooped out."

Sunday's Run:
Distance: 9 miles
Time: 1:44:32
Pace: 11:36 per mile

When you tell people that you ran 9 miles today, they usually have the same reaction. "That is insane." Once in a while, you will come across someone who says, "Wow, that's awesome!" But usually, it's "That is insane." I'd like to believe this statement is comprised of a person feeling 90% sure I'm crazy, and 10% wishful that they could do it. (Incidentally, I got very similar reactions every time I told someone I was giving up my salary to go back to grad school full time.)

The second thing they ask is, "How long does that take?" Between an hour and a half and two hours. "Don't you get bored? What do you think about all that time?"

No, I do not get bored. And my mind never stops running. There are exactly 3 times per day that my mind stops going a million miles a minute: when I listen to morning radio on my commute in to work, when I check perezhilton.com after work, and when I sit down to watch TV with Billy before bed.

The rest of the time, my brain is in hyperdrive. Running is no different. So, in the interest of answering the question, "What do you think about all that time?" I will record here some of the thoughts I can remember thinking during my 9 mile run.

-I hope my Nike+ sensor is working correctly today.
-My legs hurt. Why do my legs hurt? I only ran 3 miles yesterday.
-I wonder if I could argue that Frodo and Nick Adams, in their elusive searches for place, are experiencing melancholia or cruel optimism. Which one would it be? Wouldn't Frodo be more of cruel optimism, while Nick's case is more melancholia? I guess I'll have to read more about it to figure it out.
-Do other people think about literary theory when they're running?
-Thank you for standing on this trail with your cigarette. Clearly no one is trying to exercise here.
-I bet this song has been taken off Rihanna's set list. (Lyric: "I aint gonna stop until I see police lights (uh-huh) I'ma fight a man tonight, I'ma fight a man tonight.")
-How is it possible that Mary Antin could be such a champion for immigrant rights, and Charlotte Perkins Gilman could be so vocal about women's rights, while both of them were prejudiced against black people? What accounts for this blind spot? Is it human nature to only champion your own cause? Isn't this the same thing that's happening with gay people right now?
-That dog weighs more than I do. I would not want to pick up that dog's poop. Why would you want that horse in your house?
-PICK. UP. YOUR. FEET.
-How is it possible in the several times I've run this trail that I have failed to notice its steady incline? Is it going to be uphill all the way to Annapolis?
-Why don't we already regard the slave petitions as the original examples of African American literature? The petitions have the same theme as all the later stuff? Couldn't that be its own genre that pre-dates the slave narrative? We teach the declaration in literature classes, which is a legal document.
-Does my ass jiggle like that when I run?
-I remember when Oscar was that small. If I got another dachshund, I would want a dapple one like that. I wonder if I'd be able to run with the Weimaraner we want next. Maybe a Vizsla would be easier for me to control.
-Same guy. Different cigarette. Why is he still standing on this bridge? Maybe he lives under the bridge, like a troll, and at night he doesn't let anyone pass. Maybe he hasn't moved off this bridge because he has been turned to stone in the sunlight. Then how would he get a new cigarette? Have I been reading too much Tolkien?
-How old are you supposed to be when you learn to ride a bike? He looks old to be learning. This is a good place to learn. No cars. No trees to run into like I did in front of my grandparent's house. Didn't they get that tree removed?
-How many people know all four of their grandparents well? How many people graduate from college with two great grandparents still living?
-How is it possible that Paula Radcliffe continued training for marathons until the day before her baby was born? Was she one of those people like Nicole Kidman who didn't gain any weight?
-No, Lance, that was not my longest workout yet. You only think that because I had to re-set my iPod.

Donations Update:
Thanks Mom! My mom broke the ice with a generous donation. Also, she told me that she is getting a colonoscopy.

If you aren't able to donate financially, but you tell your parents to get a colonoscopy, all this running and blogging will be worth it.

Qualified!

This morning, I ran my 5k qualifying race- and I finished in time! This means I'm now officially registered for the National Half Marathon on March 21, 2009. It also allowed me to set up my grassroots fundraising website for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Please consider making your donation by visiting my fundraising website.

The run went fairly well. It was above freezing, the sky was clear, and the wind was calm. The course was a bit difficult because the first mile was too crowded to get going very quickly, there was one very large hill in the second mile, and there was also a bit of a hill at the very end of the race. I finished the race in just under 30 minutes, so although I was hoping to post a better time, I was really excited that I was able to run a time that qualified me for the half marathon.

I also felt pretty good during the run. My knee felt rested and didn't impair me at all. I iced it after the race to prevent it from getting stiff, and it hasn't felt sore at all today. Headphones were supposed to be prohibited for the race, so I left my iPod at home only to discover that this was treated as more of a "suggestion" than a "rule" for many of the participants who ignored it. Running without the music made me realize how much it helps me in my training. It gives me something to focus on, and it helps keep my energy up, but mostly it prevents me from hearing the sound of myself gasping for air. The 5k course I ran today was only a few minutes from my house, so I might go back for one of my training runs. I'd like to see how long it would take me to complete the course alone with my music. Tomorrow's run is supposed to be 9 miles. I think I'll have a little bit of an extra spring in my step now that this qualification/registration hurdle is out of the way.

I can't really express how much I appreciate the ways you've all shown your support for me and my dad already, but I was thinking about all of you today when my lungs were on fire and my heart was doing its best to escape my chest. I hope that you'll consider contributing financially so that we can provide the same type of support for others who are fighting the same battles.

No use crying over spilled milk. Or runner's knee. Or a floor full of chicken.

This has not been my proudest week on record.

Saturday, after having a great run, I went out to dinner and a movie with the girls. After dinner, I had to call Billy to bring me the spare key because I'd locked my keys in my car... with the radio on (I may have locked my keys in the car at some other time in my 10+ years of driving, but I can't remember a time that I have).

Sunday, I went to the grocery store, loaded up my cart with groceries, and proceeded to the checkout line. After the cashier started ringing up my food, I realized that my wallet was sitting on my desk at home. I had to drive back home to get it.

Monday, I had another good run, but the pain in my knee afterward was unsettling. I iced my knee, and it felt fine after that, but I decided I needed to get one of those knee-strap tendinitis things to wear for the rest of my training.

Tuesday, on my way out of the parking lot after class, I hit the car in front of me. Yes, I just totaled my car about 3 months ago. Yes, I thought I was a good driver before that. Yes, I have been extra careful about following distance since my accident. I have no idea how it happened except that I hate Lot 1 at UMCP. The person I hit sat in the car for a minute while I panicked, and then drove off. I followed the car for a few turns, thinking the car could pull off somewhere, but it just sped off. Yes, I know this was lucky... but I have this nagging fear that they got my license plate number and I will get out to my car one of these days to busted mirrors.

Tuesday I also found an article online that says the National Half and Full Marathons are about to fill up. The organizer was quoted saying he is worried about breaking the news to people that were hoping to qualify in the next few weeks who aren't able to make it in. If I can't qualify Saturday, my chances might be over. Then Billy tells me that the NWS is predicting a 40% chance of snow Saturday morning during my run. Awesome.

Wednesday, I went to the running shop in Annapolis to get the knee strap. I put it on for my 6 mile run, which I was looking forward to all day, because it was windy but about 70 degrees. Immediately, my knee was in extreme pain. I kept running, thinking it would subside. It did not. At 2.5 miles I finally talked myself into stopping and walking back. This was not easy to do. I have great difficulty admitting that there's anything I'm not capable of doing. I generally count my determination to be one of my greatest strengths, but sometimes it gets in my way. I could have endured the pain for all 6 miles, but I didn't want this to be my last run, so I had to force myself to stop.

I got home late as a result of walking. I started shredding the chicken for fajitas. I had shredded almost all of it before I somehow knocked the entire cutting board full of meat onto the floor. Oscar thought it was manna from heaven. I barely kept myself from sitting down on the tile and bursting into tears.

My knee feels fine today. The muscles around it feel weird. I think the knee strap caused me to run in some weird way that put unusual strain on my knee. Maybe I put it on in the wrong place. I did some research on runner's knee and feel pretty confident that it doesn't need to interfere with my training too much. I am going to skip my run today, buy some insoles for my shoes, and do my best in the snow on Saturday. This isn't easy for me to do. I have always prided myself on the fact that I never missed a mile of my training regimen in preparing for the Chicago Marathon. I'm inside my own head giving myself the same advice I always gave my teenagers- "Usually the right thing to do is not the easy thing to do." I really want to get my run in today, but I don't think that's the right thing to do.

Santiago (of The Old Man and the Sea) knows how I feel. "I hate a cramp, he thought. It is a treachery of one's own body." I like to believe that my body won't let me down-- that it's capable of doing anything I resolve to do. Admitting that's not true is not easy. I imagine cancer patients experience this sentiment to its most extreme degree. If one could will oneself to get better, my dad could have been healed two weeks after his diagnosis.

Hopefully I will qualify Saturday morning and I can register for the half marathon. If it doesn't work out, I might sit down on my kitchen floor and cry, after all.

28:35

Sunday's Run:
Distance: 800 meters
Time: 4:47
Pace: 9:25

This was intended to be a short distance sprint to test my re-calibrated sensor. It probably looked more like painful plod as a result of my extremely sore legs. Perhaps there is something to be said for a Sunday recovery day.

Monday's Run:
Distance: 3 miles
Time: 28:35
Pace: 9:32 per mile

My legs were still really tight (in fact, they're still quite tight today). Since I have my qualifying run coming up on Saturday, I thought I'd use my 3 mile training run to make sure I am ready to qualify. The qualifying time for a 5k (3.1 miles) is 31:00, or 10 minutes per mile. I was really excited to come in at the time I did, because this means that barring extreme cold, I should be able to finish with a time that qualifies me for the National Half Marathon. My pace for the first two miles was much better than for the third, so I'll have to be consciously making sure I'm not slowing down too much at the end, but we have plenty of stopwatches in the house for that. I am excited to get the qualification hurdle out of the way so I can officially register for the half marathon and set up my Lance Armstrong Foundation fundraising website!

Running Playlist Quote of the Day: "When all you got to keep is strong, move along, move along like I know you do. Even when your hope is gone, move along, move along just to make it through." The All American Rejects- "Move Along"

Runner's High

Thursday's Run:

Distance: 5k

Time: 41:21

Pace: 13:15 per mile

Today's Run:

Distance: Between 9.5 and 10 miles

Time: around 1:45:00

Pace: around 11 min per mile (?how can this be!?)

Thursday, the treadmill woes continued. I managed to complete what Lance came on to tell me was my "best time" for the 5k, but the pace was still dreadfully far behind what I would need to run to qualify for the half marathon. I wore a sweatband under my iPod, so the sensor seemed to work fine.

Today, though, I was destined for success. Friday is my rest day, and I made sure to drink plenty of water. This morning I got up and ate pancakes for breakfast before settling in to read "The Souls of Black Folk" while I digested. A little before noon, when I left to run, it was about 45 degrees. Perfect running weather!

I drove a few miles to the Baltimore and Annapolis trail to begin today's 8 mile training run. The trail is awesome- it's paved about 8 feet wide, and it's over 13 miles long. It runs where the old B and A train used to go. I drove to one of the ranger stations just south of my house, and ran toward Annapolis. The plan was to run until my iPod told me I'd gone four miles, and then turn around and come back.

When the Nike+ sensor reached 1.82 miles, it decided I was finished with my workout. It told me "workout complete" and read through all the stats I usually hear at the end of my workout. I slowed down to try to figure out how to fix it, but I couldn't get it to recognize the sensor, so I just put the music back on and kept running.

Luckily, the trail has mile-markers. The first one I remembered seeing was 6.25 miles, but they were only marked every half mile after that. I figured I'd run down to the 2 mile marker before turning around to come back. Sure, this would take me a bit farther than my 8 mile goal, but I didn't want to shortchange myself.

It felt great to be running outside. I had no idea what my pace was, but I was feeling much better. I thought I'd stop to walk for a bit when I got to the halfway point, but when I got there, I'd reached the elusive runner's high, and I ran all the way back. I felt like an athlete again. My legs were working harder than my lungs for the first time since I began training. Every half mile, those mile markers popped up to assure me I was getting closer to the end. I reached that state where I was blissfully unaware of how long I'd been running or how much time was passing. When I was training for the marathon, I used to tell people 8 or 9 miles was the best distance, because you felt like you'd accomplished something, but it didn't take up your whole day. Today was the first day I felt like I had anything in common with that version of myself.

There's a lot to see on the trail, too. Most of the people were on bikes- some serious types in full-body spandex, some teenagers wearing flat-brimmed hats (Billy and I call these the "cool dudes"), plenty of little kids (one girl even had a tiara painted onto her helmet). People walking all kinds of dogs, and even a few people running with dogs (evidently you can do this if your dog is not a dachshund). Quite a few walkers- a man and woman wearing matching "Baltimore Marathon" t-shirts, a group of teenage girls in jeans and North Face fleeces, plenty of women who looked like they were trying to get in shape, and (my favorite) and elderly couple wearing workout gear and holding hands. There were a fair number of runners, as well, and I was reminded of the unspoken runner's code- when you pass another runner, they will almost always smile or wave at you. It felt better to be running than it has in years.

So, imagine my surprise when I got back to the milemarker that I'd thought read 6.25 only to find that it said 6.75 instead. I had to run about 100 or 200 yards beyond that to get to ranger station where I was parked, so I ran somewhere between 9.5 and 10 miles. I knew I'd started sometime right before noon, so I was expecting the clock in the car to say something like 2:30- but when I turned the ignition, it only said 1:36. My iPod says I began my workout at 12:52... so this was easily the most successful workout of my training so far.

Tomorrow's supposed to be another rest day, but I've been using Sundays to try to sprint short distances instead. I've restored my iPod to its original settings, so I might start tomorrow by recalibrating the sensor. If Lance thinks a 13:15 pace is my 5k PR time, he will really be impressed when I get that thing working properly!

Also, I think I've changed the comment feature to allow you to comment without registering with a username. So if you are so inclined, feel free to comment. : )

Running Playlist Quote of the Day: "It's not my time; I'm not going. There's a fear in me, but it's not showing... there's a will in me, and now I know that it's not my time." 3 Doors Down, "It's Not My Time"

"Activity Stopped."

Wednesday's Run:
Distance: 5 treadmill miles
Time: 59:54
Pace: 12:29 per mile

My Nike+ is conspiring against me. First, it insists that I run 1.2 treadmill miles for every 1 Nike+ mile. That's not so bad, because I'm training for a distance race, but then the pace gets a little discouraging. A 12:29 per mile pace matches up with my improving fitness level; a 13:50 pace does not. But yesterday, it refused to recognize my running at all! I got to 3.7 Nike+ miles, and the lady kept telling me "Activity stopped. Please press the center button to resume workout." So I'd press the center button, run for another few minutes, and she'd tell me the same thing again. And I wanted to yell at her "Activity stopped?! Can't you tell how hard I'm breathing??!" To add insult to injury, she was no longer counting my steps. Billy's online research revealed that this happens when moisture gets into the connection between the sensor and the iPod, so I guess I'll have to start wearing a sweatband underneath my iPod or something. Seems ironic that the harder you work, and the more you sweat, the less credit she gives you for your efforts.

I'm still stuck on the treadmill. Yesterday during my run, I was thinking about how running on a treadmill sucks for the same reasons Dad's cancer treatment sucks. (This is appropriate, because he speaks about his treatment almost exclusively in metaphors.) You are busting your ass, but you're running in place. You know you should get on there and log a few miles, but most days you don't feel like you're getting anywhere. You have to distract your attention away from the data on the panel in front of you or you'd never be able to finish. It's hard to see that you're getting closer to your goal when you're standing in the same place, breathing the same stagnant air, as you were when you started.

You put yourself through it because you believe that when you can get off the treadmill, out into real life, the hard work will have served you well. Your body will be in the condition necessary to take you where you want to go. But when you're standing on that treadmill, running in place, the idea that it's helping is only theoretical. There's no way to know that it's going to help you run farther, faster, longer, until you get a chance to get off the treadmill and run outside. It's a faith based exercise.

On Saturday, I have to run 8 miles. Billy says the weather is supposed to warm up to the 40s, which would allow me to run outside. Let's hope so.

Support

Sunday's Run:

Distance: 1 mile

Time: 11:16

Monday's Run:

Distance: 3 miles

Time: 41:33

Pace: 13:48 per mile

In 2003, when I ran the Chicago Marathon, Dad came to see me. I've been lucky enough to enjoy that type of support from my whole family and friends for my entire life. Almost two years ago, I was fortunate enough to join a second family that's equally supportive.

Thanks to all of you who've been checking the blog and sending your words of encouragement. I'm back in class now, so I may not have a chance to update the blog daily, but I'm still plugging away. I'm disappointed that I wasn't ready to qualify on Sunday, but I'm not discouraged.

Dad's in Cabo this week- how's that for not letting cancer rule your life?