Running Girls

MK and S

In March I ran my fastest 5K ever. This Saturday I ran my slowest, and it was just as much fun. Plus, I got to wear a rainbow-colored tutu.

The occasion? Girls on the Run (GOTR), a nation-wide program that I should have created. It’s the kind of program I could’ve used as a kid and dreamed of as an idealistic new teacher. I wish I’d had the foresight to see this thing to fruition. This award-winning holistic girl-empowerment program (that just announced partnership with mega athletic girl gear company, Athleta) features self-esteem boosting meetings and activities while simultaneously training for a 5K. Oh, and the girls are in fifth grade.

I wrote about GOTR while living in Bellingham in 2008 (August 26-Sep 2, 2008 issue). Inspired, I tried half-heartedly for a while to find a place for it to blossom on this side of the mountains when we moved back to Wenatchee in 2009. I made some calls up to Chelan, where there had once been a GOTR program. Then I tried to entice the local YMCA, the hospital, and an elementary school PE teacher to no avail. I should have tried harder, but my focus drifted.

When I found out last month that a local GOTR program had formed under the guidance of Columbia Valley Community Health I was thrilled. Unfortunately, between my recent humanitarian trip to Haiti and the GOTR coordinator’s aid trip to Guatemala, I didn’t get to help beforehand like I’d hoped. But I wound up getting to take part in the grand culminating event anyway (translation:  most fun Apple Blossom Festival run ever)–as running buddy to my friend V’s daughter, S.

To run and walk alongside such a rock star kiddo (people, she makes her own videos already!) completing her first official 5K race (she’d already completed the training version with flying colors, of course) was beyond compare. We’d done a short pre-run recess workout the day before. Based on Friday’s dry run I thought we’d be walking nearly the entire race on Saturday. But S did tell me she liked to run, and she proved it on race day when I saw a glimmer of her friendly, competitive streak burst forth. She ran like the wind for spurts; then she slowed down to catch her breath. All the while we talked about favorite books, writing stories, field trips, and summer plans.

On the home stretch I tried to surge ahead to grab an action photo of us on my phone. S surged right along with me, leaping past her peers with ease. In fact, she kept up so well that I only barely managed to get ahead for a photo, an off-kilter one at best. S looks radiant and nonplussed, whereas my expression mirrors the terror I felt during that split second of time, on the verge of ungracefully tripping over myself and in danger of breaking my nose (in full tutu and all). Thank goodness we crossed the finish line together a mere eighth of a mile later, unscathed and giggling.

Action photo

From her pre-race peppy cheers and dance steps (totally my fault since while we waited for the race to start my fake hip hop moves were noticed, I caved to peer pressure, and suddenly found myself choreographing an impromptu Girls on the Dancefloor troupe…), S was an absolute trooper, athlete, and delight. I had a ball and hope she did, too. Maybe next year she’ll be my training partner for my second full marathon? I guess I’ll have to ask her mom for permission.

I Like The Free, Fresh Wind In My Hair…

Here’s an article I wrote recently for Wenatchee Outdoors:  Intro to Road Riding. Look for an upcoming follow-up post about what to do when bike mishaps occur.

True Warriors

 

My friend T and I completed 3.55 “hellish” miles on “the craziest (bleep) day of your life” as the Warrior Dash was billed. In truth it wasn’t nearly as challenging as it sounds. I don’t know if it’s because I regularly do crazy things like flip tires and run in the mud for fun but these obstacles weren’t all that insane. With the exception of the flame jumping and the mud pit at the end, the run was really pretty tame. But it was pretty darn fun, too. Next year we need to have costumes. Here we are in our warrior helmets.

Hip Hop You Don’t Stop

For some time now I’ve wanted to blog about the hip hop class I’ve taken off and on for the past year or so. I will expound upon it sometime in the near future, but for now take a gander at my friend M’s fab account of the recent class recital. I’m so glad she did it! Don’t worry, I’ve already promised to join her next year, come hell or high water. Yay for public embarrassment and pushing your comfort zone!

The Recital–from Molly\’s blog

Go To Your Happy Place

This has been a trying couple of weeks. In the grand scheme of things I know that these annoyances (bedbugs, spouse in ER, cat peeing, car rifled through, home improvement projects…) are pretty tame stressors (and for that I am lucky), but nonetheless it is stressful! Since most of us can’t do yoga 24/7 in order to keep ourselves sane we need to keep breathing, thinking good thoughts, and “going to our happy place.” This is one of my favorite places to go, in person or virtually. Where’s your happy place?

Skiing Makes Me Happy

I had a t-shirt once that said this. It still holds true. I’ve been on the slopes since I was four or five. I’m so happy I’ve grown up with this sport (since I’d be freaked out to start skiing as an adult!). I learned to ski on the carpeted hill at Alpine Outfitters in Redding. From there I graduated to the rope tow at Mt. Lassen. Eventually I made it up the chairlift at Mt. Shasta, then Tahoe, Banff, Austria, and beyond. I’ve skied in the Northern and Southern Hemispheres all in the same year. I’ve skied on glaciers in France and Canada. I’ve skied California slush and Vermont ice. I’ve skied Olympic runs and kiddie courses. Downhill, cross-country, skate…I don’t discriminate. I’ve had so many wonderful, laugh-full, memorable ski trips with family and friends. Like when E, S, J and I did room gymnastics in New Hampshire. And when R, A, and I went ‘rodeling’ down an old logging road in Austria. Charging breakfast to our room with S at age, oh say, 10. Getting a side ache from laughing so hard playing Taboo with Mom and DA. Cruising Springmeier with K again and again… But above all else, my very favorite ski partners will always be my two very favorite men, my dad and my husband.

5280

Up with Peopling, Montessori teaching, Australasian learning, vegetable truck colliding, baseball watching, jazz clubbing, improv viewing, 14er hiking, skiing, fonduing, Holtzing, Sing Singing, in love falling, Capitol Hill living. Denver holds so many memories…

Go Breck!

Nobody told Colorado that springtime is here…

The Wisdom of Mistakes

I’ve come across several articles lately which focus on lessons learned from mistakes. It’s always great to take something away from an unexpected event but sometimes I think people have a need to justify everything to the nth degree. I’m pretty convinced that sometimes people (aka I) do stupid things and just have to face the (stupid) consequences. Oh, it’s examples you’re after… Hmm, I don’t have to think too hard to remember the time I forgot I was on a bike and rode down an outdoor (concrete-enclosed) staircase, or when I walked into the high school cafeteria with my dress wide open, or (because I know it’s on your mind, Mom) when I fell off my stool playing the drum set and then proceeded to fall completely off the stage altogether! These examples tread dangerously close to the category of Embarrassing Moments, I realize, but really I guess my life has been almost one continuous embarrassing moment (aka mistake) now that I come to think of it. But that’s a different blog posting altogether.

My mistake of the week this week (so far, knock on wood) was when I had the brilliant idea to go for a run on Monday morning. It sounds innocent enough except that I didn’t quite realize there were 30 mph wind gusts roaring until I was, oh, half a mile from my house. Too late to turn around, in my book. But instead of taking it easy, since I’d already pushed it by running an 8-miler the day before, I thought it’d be a great day to practice hills! Or not. I could see the confused countenances of the drivers craning their necks to see me running on nature’s combo treadmill and stair master. I could even hear the low, confused murmurs of the few folks brave enough to be out running from their front door to their car. What IS this girl DOING?

But (and this is where the justification cop out comes in handy) I’m glad I persevered. I felt ill on the way home and (for the first time ever, mind you) even stopped for thirty seconds to regroup on the way home, but in the end I felt alive, awake, healthy, and enormously lucky to see these spring-green, elephant-fold foothills up close and personal. I might even choose to make this mistake again.

Downhill Skiing On My Level

As the end of ski season draws nigh I thank my trusty Dynastars for another exhilarating, safe (touch wood) season of wintery bliss. On my run this morning I was thinking about something that has crossed my mind a lot lately. Our society places such emphasis on moving on up, getting better, improving, constantly changing. That’s all well and good but when are we allowed to just BE? To realize that we are good enough just as we are? To enjoy where we’re AT?

It seems strange to find profundity in skiing but I was reminded of this while testing some demo skis a few weekends ago. One sales rep tried to tell me that my current skis were holding me back. I almost felt offended! Holding me back? They whiz me down groomers reliably and help me pave the way through four mattress-deep marshmallow fluff powder if I’m lucky. What more could I ask for in a ski? OK, so the true powder skis that I tested at the end of the day turned me into queen of the mountain and could bring some new challenges my way, but I’m not quite ready to hang my Legends up yet. They’ve got miles of trails to go and loads more stories to tell before they sleep.