Little Rock Half Marathon

This half marathon morphed from my intensions of months prior. I will be 40 this month, and this particular event had the perfect timing for me to attempt my goal of qualifying for the Boston 26.2 by the time I turn 40. However, with three boys, a husband, an active church life, and being an elementary science teacher, I decided in early January to drop back to the half. It was the right call, as my limitations in time and fueling and digestion (more on that in a minute) started to affect one of my feet. As soon as I felt more than a tweak, I chose not to push to a goal that would result in an injury that would cost me months of running. I have done that several times, and it is not worth it. I took off a few days and did some trouble shooting. Running 13.1 this time means I will have many more miles in the long run than if I pushed to 26.2 at an inopportune time and then had to take time off for healing. I have learned this the hard way too many times. Will there every be a phase of life where I can make another full marathon work? I sure hope so. At some point most of my competition passes away and the expectations lower a bit, if nothing else... so I think I will run Boston at some point. Instead of making great expectations for meaningful outcomes, I am just going to be grateful for the strength, wellness, support, and experience to do one thing well at a time. 

This race was the least excited I have ever been for an event. It meant a lot less to me when it was no longer a qualifier before my big 4-0, and then one of our boys got sick, which changed it from a fun family road trip to a solo trip. Don't get me wrong. I LOVED the alone time. LOVED it. However, I actually dreaded the race, and right up until I crossed the finish line I was hoping I could get out of it. Because of this, I want to record some of the things I learned to keep in mind for the future:

DIGESTION. This issue has become a nerve-wracking one for me. It has been an issue throughout my running journey, but it seems to get worse with each race. It is tangled up in the teenage eating disorder I had. I am so much healthier in mindset now, but my routine adult diet includes a lot of high-fiber and healthy fats that are helpful to a healthy, energetic body... but not helpful to predictable bowel movements on long runs. When I am training at home, near the bathroom, this is okay. However, when I am in the middle of a crowded race that may or may not have port-a-potties, it causes me so much dread. Also, in a race, I don't want to add minutes to my time in the port-a-potty. Sigh. If I did poop on myself, at least I know every runner understands this problem. Right? The tangled-up-in-the-eating-disorder-parts comes in when I have to tweak my diet for long training runs and the race for a few days prior. One, I like my typical foods because I have chosen them knowing they won't cause weight gain, which provides me with peace. So if I have to trade my whole grains and broccoli for white pasta and bagels, I get really worried about gaining weight. And then I usually don't eat enough... and an empty tank is not helpful before running long distances at race pace. Some of you are blessed not to understand why this becomes so big in some of our heads... but it does. What if I eat a ton of carbs... and then I get sick and can't race? Obviously, the world would not be over, but as a neurotic person who feels very aware of every fat cell's behavior on my body, it makes me miserable. And if I can just run at home, why go to this mental distress? BECAUSE I have goals. I do want to run faster and farther, and I must train my mind to fuel properly for my digestive system to pull this off. I am glad we live in a time when women are encouraged to be strong and well, instead of skinny. May the young women of today not torture themselves the way so many in my generation and my mother's and grandmother's have. It is a ridiculous and impactful evil for a woman to think it is better to feel weak and empty than to eat and feel energetic enough to enjoy life.

This has really become the biggest obstacle for me. If I can figure out how to be flexible with my diet at the appropriate times, without the exhausting obsessive worries about my weight, then I would have more energy for the actual race. I ate Dave's whole grain bagels, instead of white ones, this time... and it did almost backfire. Bah. 

CLOTHING: In my imagination, this race was going to be in the 50s, which would have had me in shorts and a sleeveless shirt. However, when I walked to the start line, it was 37 degrees, and within my less-than-2-hour finish time, it was only going to be 43 degrees. I wore long pants, and I layered my torso with sleeveless shirt, long-sleeved dry-fit shirt, and sweat shirt. I also wore my gloves and my two gaiters, one for ear covering and the other for my mouth/nose. Not knowing if there will be wind or not makes a huge difference at those temperatures. Several runners were bundled like I was, but even more were wearing short shorts and barely-there shirts. The whole race, I kept worrying I would get too hot. I did remove my gloves before the halfway, as well as one of my gaiters. But I was not miserable. Two problems: I was wearing my gear vest to carry my water and my gel AND I had my race bib pinned to my sweatshirt. I overthought this beforehand, and I made my decision. Had it not been a race, I would have stopped to take off both long sleeves, but it wasn't too bad that I left them on to avoid the extra time it would take to adjust everything during a race. Just little annoyances you have to decide to deal with one way or another. 

The COURSE: I honestly really liked this course. It was hilly, but every uphill had a downhill that more than made up for it. Miles 10-12 had the most uphills, and I took them slower than usual because my digestion was on the brink of explosion. I had to stop and stand still for 5 seconds. That's it. And then the Good Lord had mercy on me, and the last mile was downhill and my digestive system did not cause me public disgrace. 

The people working hard to make this race a success deserve a lot of gratitude. It was so well-organized, fans were pretty much on every corner, and it would definitely be a fun course to do with buddies. My oldest son made us a high-energy playlist for morning rides to school, and it mostly includes Imagine Dragons, with three King George songs from Hamilton, and I added some Switchfoot. I don't usually listen to music when I run, but sometimes it is a welcome companion, as it was this day. 

Before the race, I was working hard to focus without overthinking. Sigh. So many people were doing their warmup drills 45 minutes before go-time in the expo-arena-turned-athlete's-village, and I just sat and closed my eyes and prayed. I needed to save my energy until about 15 minutes before the race, and I had no energy for drilling about like a peacock. I kept reminding myself my training went well, and that I have so many people who love and support me no matter what. The biggest help with any of my race nerves always come down to how much I like a good workout. No matter the outcome, I will feel satisfied on any day my body does good work like that. The Lord is good to me, and He is faithful. I am struggling with trying to keep my encouragement in spirit practical and realistic. I don't want to be a pessimist, but I also don't want to be fantastical. The world is weird right now. And it makes every heart ache in one way or another. Peace and grace, dear ones. 

The best sign I saw said "Smile if you aren't wearing underwear." It cracked me up how hard I tried not to smile. Underwear are helpful in a race. I was wearing mine. 

Bridger Ridge Run (DNF) Recap

A week ago I was making my way across a beautifully intense mountain ridge with 249 other runners in Bozeman, MT. The total distance of the race was ~20 miles, and I made it just over halfway before deciding the pain and strain in my foot that had bothered me through summer training was too unsafe and unhelpful on the steep downhill segments covered in sharp, jagged, loose rocks. My foot was aching and seizing up to wrap around rocks, instead of steadily pushing off of them, like a light-footed deer. I have been really emotional about that DNF (Did Not Finish) decision. I’ve been gazing at the photos I did brave (on flat sections) because it was a breathtakingly (sometimes literally) beautiful top-of-the-world experience. I want to always remember a few things about it, and I hope to return some summer and finish that last almost-half.

Top: My mom and I were so thankful our friends, Debbie and her son Shane, drove us over the mountain road to the start at Fairy Lake. They made it more fun. Such an early and beautiful morning together. 
Bottom: my mom and I with Fairy Lake (and I'm pretty sure Sacagawea (the first peak in the race) behind us.)

1. All of my summer training in the heat and humidity of Tennessee, plus a week+ of adjusting to the altitude in Bozeman before the race, did prepare me physically. I did not feel upset by my uphill performance. I felt good about that. I passed really fit people. I felt relieved when we went uphill because it meant steady, calculated **control**. Lol. The uphills were by no means easy, and a lot of them required all fours to climb up. We ran on sections we could, but a lot of them were so steep it was more “super-hiking” than running. 

 2. The downhills were my kryptonite. Ugh. I hate not being in control. I’d boss my way up to 9,000+-feet of elevation on Sacagawea, feeling triumphant. And then I’d get passed by so many people on the *downhills*, the DOWNhills, around Maya Nuki. I got so frustrated and angry at myself. On a teeny-tiny sliver of a trail, for someone like me who feels acutely aware of when I am inconveniencing people behind me who want to pass NOW, that meant I had to carefully maneuver out of their way on those jagged, loose rocks to not be the annoying slow-poke (on the freaking DOWNhills) holding people back. I got so irritated. Irritation and fear were hard for me to calm down. And my foot wasn’t helping. It would seize up heavily and hurt when I needed it to respond quickly in a jaunt from one tiny, loose knife to another. Literally, steep downhills scare me. Metaphorically, the spiritual ones, where I just have to keep stepping on uneven and uncertain places that I’ve never navigated before and hope I don’t fatally trip, make me a pretty cautious/wise/prayerful person who is having to grow in ways I never wanted to … BUT now I need to figure out how to mimic the steep, loose, jagged trails to *literally* buck up my fear response and foot response on trails like that — bc I am going back to finish that ridge (humbly… Lord-willing, please, LORD 😬🙏🏻). 

3. The aid station at Bridger Bowl was the halfway point. I did not go in deciding to quit. I knew I needed water and to rest my feet. I sought out people to ask about the rest of the race and ask about how my feet were unsteady, inflexible, and painful on the downhill sections. Everyone there was SO supportive and kind. Oh.my.goodness. They offered to take my pack and fill it with water while I sat down and cried over my pickle, while the medical team checked my feet. An older man whose name I did not catch was really helpful. And then Katie, and her 10yo daughter Bay, became my angels. They were each so gentle and kind. They hugged me. They counseled me. The little girl told me she liked my toenail polish when they peeled off my socks and shoes. They followed my lead about the decision to keep going or not. I started bawling when I decided it would be dumb to continue. They hugged me. They told me the hard 10 miles I just did was amazing. Other runners at the station stopped to hug me and tell me they’d had to drop out in races before, so they understood how I felt — but that I’d get better and able to try again. Like, everyone was SO NICE. It was *so relieving* when I didn’t know anyone up there in a scary place where I felt like a failure. I was so lonely at the top of the mountain where I didn’t meet my long-trained-for expectations with my limited feet in the place I want to belong more than anywhere — and they made me feel so loved. I just bawled and bawled. And then Katie and Bay hiked down the two-mile ski mountain with me to their vehicle. They were going to the finish to watch their husband/father finish, and I needed the ride. They just continued being the sweetest and most supportive new friends. Katie told me how long it took her to build up her mindset against those scary downhill portions bc she runs the ridge for recreation frequently. It helped. But how do I mimic that terrain here in west Tennessee to buck up my feet and my fear?!!!? I guess I’ll just have to visit a lot. 😁 

4. The feeling of failure was awful. I knew it was the right decision for that day. But I honestly didn’t eat anything at the finish line because I felt like I didn’t earn it. I felt like I’d forfeited it. I would NEVER treat a friend or my kids or my cross country runners that way, after putting in the effort I did on that 10 miles. But I just hated everything about my weak feet (my DNA? My geography? My timid personality?) that didn’t get me to that finish line. Ugh. I have to work on that. I know my worth is in the value of being made in God’s image, redeemed by Christ—but I also wanna have that earthly experience. I struggle with the balance of taking good risks for growth and not letting them pass into greed. 

 5. SO! I have just been gazing at the photos I took up there, soooo very thankful I got that part of the ridge. So thankful and amazed! The timing of getting into the race was undoubtedly guided by my Good Father’s hand. Registration is open for one week the May before, which happened to be the week I checked to see IF it would be near my 20th high school reunion. Only 250 runners are allowed, so it’s based on a lottery (plus a compelling reason why you should get to do it; and growing up in those mountains surely helped my chances). And our school year in Tennessee for some reason started a week later than usual — which allowed me the time to do it and return just.in.time for teaching (and momming!). 

 6. My mom came with me for the trip, so she was at the start and finish. She and local friends were such gifts to me before and after the race. So many loved ones sent me encouragement and offered hugs and let me share my emotions as they burbled out of my exhausted and disappointed self afterward. 

 7. The most helpful text I got after, and I got A LOT of helpful texts, was from my friend Emily. She said, “You chose to spare yourself those last 10 miles so you can continue to run for many thousands more. Sounds like you made a wise (but hard) decision.” That’s been a balm to me when I feel disappointment from that day but hope for all the runs to come. 

 As soon as summer began, my Achilles on that foot gave me trouble. I thought I'd ironed it out, but then it moved into my heel. It was classic plantar fasciitis indicators, but I held them at bay allllll summer. The smooth roads for most of my runs warmed it up fast and didn’t irritate it. The trails I used for all my long runs (8, 10, 13, 15, 17, and 18) did irritate it, as they were uneven and covered in exposed tree roots… but those weren’t as scary or painful as the loose, jagged rocks thousands of feet at the top of Montana mountains. Since returning from the trip, we hit the ground running with returning to school and cross country. I’m on my feel all day (even at home), so I have thankfully discovered that slow runs help the pain much better than no runs. Whew. The physical therapist is helping me with massages, stretches, dry needles, and tape. My body is so worn out. My HRV (heart rate variation) measurement on my Garmin has been declining into the red zone every day since I returned home (one day shy of a week ago). That means my body is incredibly fatigued. Oh, well! It’s the mom, teacher, runner life for me! But today will be spent babying my body (which will include an easy run 🤪). Thanks so much to all of you who encourage me on a regular basis! I know I’m not the best runner. But I am an ordinary woman who wants to live a full life as a brave, active, thankful child of God and sister to Christ. My hope with my sharing of my JOY in running is that if a timid dork like myself can practice abundant life, you can too. Peace and grace to us all!

Half Marathon #5: Glacier Recap

Vacation Races had someone taking photos on the course. I think this is mile 8.
No other way to get a photo of the beautiful course!

 

     I love Montana (born in Bozeman, but a Tennessean most of my life after moving as a tween). I love Glacier National Park. My husband knows it's my happy place, and that running is my happy thing. Everyone has life stress. And after years of staying home with our three little boys (now ages 11, 8, and 5), he suggested I look into any races that might happen in Glacier Nat'l Park to blow off some steam. This was almost ten months ago, and I thought it was too good to be true. BUT it's as true as it is good -- Vacation Races hosted The Glacier Half Marathon on June 25, this past Saturday. One of my dearest friends and I went right to planning our trip allllll those months ago. I can't believe it came and went so quickly. I've been back home, nearly a week, processing the immense gratitude and gently calming the part of me that just wants to move there 20 years ago. 

    My husband had frequent flier miles that took care of both plane tickets, my friend's parents have a time-share that got us a nice room in Canmore, Alberta, for the first half of our momcation. And my friend is the best detailed planned EVER, so we were able to make the most of our trip. This post won't be about all that, but Banff National Park is AH-MAZ-ING! So is Glacier! We hiked 45 miles in the five days before the half. Such therapeutic time in nature making good memories is such a blessing. She and I can be quiet OR cracking up together. So just really relaxing. 

What better souvenirs than my race shirt and medals?

    

START LINE

    My friend and I found an Airbnb in East Glacier Park Village, which was less than 5 minutes from the race's finish line. It was also a perfectly-centered location to travel to West Glacier for a rafting trip one day and then explore East Glacier trails the next. It was a 15-minute drive from the shuttle in Browning, MT, that took all of the runners to the start line between 4 and 5 a.m. that morning. The race began at 6 a.m. It was 38 degrees before the sun came up, so I had on all my layers; and they also had white garbage bags I could leave my big cozy sweatshirt in (with my bib number on it) that they brought to the finish line. Worked seamlessly. The race started in several different waves. I signed up for the first, the blue, bc the estimated finish time was by 1 hour and 55 minutes. I think there were 300-something people in that wave. Altogether, the race had 1,500 runners. Wow. 

RUNNING AT HIGHER ALTITUDE?

    In west Tennessee, we are at ~400 feet above sea-level. Glacier National Park, NOT the peaks, is ~5,000 feet above sea-level. The first five miles of the race are a straight climb up a mountain road, with almost 1,000-foot gain. Miles 6-10 were then downhill, and the last 5K of the rave was a moderate hill climb and then finished mostly flat. The course veered off into a grass meadow that was actually really pleasant to finish on in front of the East Glacier Lodge. Prepping for the race had me mindful of how breathing might be more difficult in thinner air. I took advantage of Tennessee's humid heat to help me prep, as it's known as "poor man's altitude training." We were in high elevation for the whole week before the race, hiking up into peaks in Banff and Glacier. I honestly never even noticed the altitude affecting my breathing. Fresh mountain air, with a chill, is so much easier to take in and put out than humid droplets of a hot summer in the South. Whew. I told my friend I was not going to limit any of our hiking IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS to save my race legs. The hiking and traveling were soooooo much more of this experience than the race, even though the race was "the reason" it all happened. My muscles were shot by race time. Not sore -- just empty with heaviness, if that makes sense? But it was so great! This was my slowest half marathon time (01:54:57), but it doesn't bother me at all. It's probably going to be a fav, if not THE fav, my whole life. I was the fourth female in my age group (35-39), which means I got an extra shiny medal as a souvenir. I was the 41st female, and 116th person. 

My dork happy "I made it" smile. The MC was so great.
Every person had to give a little snippet of info about themselves to register,
and she would call us by first name and share that tidbit,
so it felt like I was high-fiving a pal. 

FINISH LINE

    Looking at my paces (AFTER the race, not during) was amusing. By the top of that beginning 5-mile climb my miles were ~10 minutes long. But then that next 5 miles that were downhill were all about ~7:30 minutes long. Then mile 11 had another hill. Sigh. I brought my tried and true Nathan bladder handheld water bottle that fits in my vest pocket. I didn't need my back bladder for a cool half-marathon... and I hate how it sloshes, the noise irritates me, so I just didn't wear it. But the vest is so nice for not having to carry my phone or that little bottle. Anyway, for the first time ever, the nozzle I bite to get a gush of refreshing liquid h2o did not work. I was so thirsty at mile 11, but I did not want to stop. But I ended up walking part of that moderate hill so I could unscrew the bottle and get some needed sips. Several old men passed me. I also snagged a Honey Stinger gel at an aid station, but only for a little bite to power my legs up the hill. By mile 12 I actually felt nauseous, the first time ever during a run, but it passed after a minute. I could have then used a porta-potty, but there were no more (even though they impressively had a whole lot throughout the race, including more than 40 at the start line), so I made it to the finish line just fine. 

Vacation Races host half marathons in a bunch of scenic National Parks, so I hope more are in my future. 

Running is such a blessing to my mind, and I'm so thankful for a supportive family. Whether I'm running around my neighborhood for daily miles OR traveling, it's such a sweet adventure that keeps me active and engaged and hopeful. I hope I get to do 100 halfs in my life. And some more fulls. But I'll just be thankful for one at a time. 

I'm just so thankful!

 

First 26.2 Recap :: AJM

Two days ago I ran my first full marathon, after two attempts in 2016 (melanoma side-railed training that time) and 2020 (a trail fiasco to keep it short, lol). 

Our local Andrew Jackson Marathon lived up to its challenging reputation of being very hilly (see the elevation in the below image 🤣😱😳. I actually like hills. But whew.). The race was not crowded, but it was routed through residential and commercial neighborhoods we frequent often. I loved seeing so many people I knew in the race and on the sidelines. It was soooooo pleasant to be running "alone" but to not feel isolated. 

Training went well for the most part, but three weekends before the race my left IT band threw it’s not-unusual fits about all the running I was doing. I was devastated at first, but my husband told me I’d worked too hard to give up. I got a pass to swim at a local gym, and I was told about a physical therapist who could help me with dry needling therapy. I love swimming from a year on a high school team; and then this physical therapist is athletic and confident, which helps me so much more than timid or doubtful pt’s who make me feel like once I am broken, it’s never gonna be the same. So yay for experience and confidence! One of the reasons I like running is to combat negative and stifling misconceptions we all have about so many things in our world, especially what we believe about ourselves and other people with false shame or grandiosity. It pounds out reality on the pavement, with a lot of courage and pain and triumph or disappointment along the way. 

The first half of the marathon went great. Runners for the half did one loop, and full-marathoners did two loops. A friend had warned me it would be very hard to pass through that first loop, with some being finished at 13.1, and realize I had to do it all again. And she was right; that was probably the hardest emotional moment for me. And then to see half-marathoners not yet finished as I made it along my second loop made me realize just how hard this is. And that was hard mentally too. 

Mile 16-18 is where I realized that gravity all of a sudden felt 5,000 times more powerful against my exhausted leg muscles. My lungs could have gone all day, but my legs were shot. It was liberating to walk up some hills at the end. I knew that I could run again if I recovered a bit. And that’s true. It’s not constant degradation; it’s a cycle of fatigue and recovery at that point. I believe if my last three weeks of training had gone as planned, with runs and strength exercises, that would not have been as hard on my muscles. But I guess I’ll have to test that out next time (which I am already fantasizing about). 

So many dear friends and family encouraged me. Wow. 

My mom and stepdad drove to several places and were tireless PR agents to keep me smiling and feeling loved. 

My sister’s house was on my loops four times, so my adorable nieces and nephews pumped me up. 

My husband had my boys at the start, middle, near the finish, and then at the finish. 

My close friend came from her home a few hours away and slept in our guest room and drove me to the pre-dawn start line so Justin didn’t have to drag our boys out too early. She knew how much I wanted this first 26.2 to finally work out! (And she and I are flying to Canada in less than 11 weeks to hike and explore and for me to run a half marathon in Glacier National Park in Montana. We are EXCITED BEYOND BELIEF! Thanks to our hubbies!!!)

A friend who works at the running store that runs this event gave me so much encouragement and support the whole training session and was running the half course that morning. So I also saw her family that is so dear and encouraging to me. 

Another new friend who used to coach cross-country and is an experienced marathoner had been helpfully advising me throughout training, and she and I unexpectedly ran a lot of the first half together.  She did the half this time, and I was right behind her to get her high-five after she finished her race that day. 

We’re part of a new small group, and my friend, Jill, drove to find me a few times and cheered me on. She was so unexpected and encouraging, and she has an amazing marathon success through injury, so she knew what I needed. 

A generic icy hot patch on the sorest place where my quad attaches to my IT band at the hip mostly numbed that issue for the event. As soon as I removed it afterward, my IT band let me know it was still angry at me. 

When the race was finished, I wasn’t sure if I loved it or hated it. It hurt more than I could imagine. Before I got injured I really think I had a chance of qualifying for Boston (3:35 or less), but the hills made that iffy. After I got injured, I really just hoped to keep it under four hours. I missed that by a few minutes, which would normally disappoint me. But I am just so amazed and thankful I got to do this! A full marathon is HARD! And I am now a marathoner!!!!!! And I want to do it again. Lol.

I got second place of the only two females in my age group, and the trophy ceremony was hilarious. Every runner was doing the “limp of glory” to get their bling. The woman in my age group ahead of me passed me as soon as the second half began. She did awesome at negative splitting (running the second half faster than the first. “Don’t be a fool in the first half and don’t be a wimp in the second half.”). With my injury, I wanted to make the most of every step I had, and I think I did it wisely under these circumstances. But “on paper” I crashed. 

I could barely walk at church yesterday, but it was such a fabulous souvenir to remind me that I really DID just become a marathoner. And Justin and the boys were sooo great to encourage my resting. I did walk slowly as much as I could around the yard and played a light game of Pickleball with Justin. Keep the blood flowing gently to recover. 

I wrote this fast while I waited for my eye exam appointment. I ain’t got time to be as wordy as normal, and y’all don’t have time to read it all. Lol. But thanks for making it this far!

For future racing, just a reminder to myself that my pre-night supper of salmon and sweet potatoes still works great. And my banana and peanut butter breakfast are fab too. And when I avoid my fav stove-popped corn and chia seeds for several days, my tummy is happier. 

Still not a big fan of any gummies. Blahhh. I did make one potty stop at mile 18, and it really wasn’t too bad. But if I’d been trying to qualify for Boston, it would have made me angry. Ha. I do prefer wearing my water bladder than stopping at tables along the route for cups. 

A dear friend reminded me of this as I uncertainly approached the start line with an injury. I am weak; He is strong. Whatever I do may or may not be fun for me, may or may not have any significance; but it is for Him regardless. Whew. 2 Corinthians 12:9 “‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

Top 9 From My Collection of Injury Prevention

I've been running for half my life, since high school. One of the things that used to frustrate me the most has become one of my favorite aspects of the sport: injuries. I would prefer not to deal with injuries, but having learned how to better care for my body by discovering and applying solutions to strengthen my weaknesses fascinates me and definitely makes me better than I otherwise would be. I am paused for a while, only to go farther than I imagined. 

I have had three babies, and my body has the abdomen gap known as diastasis recti. I didn’t even know it was a thing until our second boy was 2. By then I’d incurred damage with intense exercise I so far can’t heal. But the rest of my body has adapted, and I feel wise and healthy about the solutions I’ve collected and applied to my workouts. The evidence shows strength and fitness. Maybe I won’t run Olympics trials, but I get to have adventures and stay healthy and bring home some bling. Here are some of my favorite solutions. One is for plantars fasciitis from a long time ago, and the rest are for my hips/glutes/IT band. I hope they can help other runners stay in the race. 

1. I’ve had this one a few years, since my first half-marathon training in the fall of 2015. Plantars fasciitis is when the ligament on the bottom of your foot between your toes and heal is inflamed. This stretch has left me free of any pf symptoms since I discovered how effective it is to sit on my heels with my toes curled under. I do it for 30 seconds before and after every single run, and sometimes when I am getting laundry out or finding a pan in a low cabinet. It feels soooooooo good. It saves time to do it when I’m changing into my bra and running shirt beforehand, and afterward I do it while drinking water through a straw. Seriously one of the persistently effective stretches I have. Don't do it more than 30 seconds, though, or it gets too rough on your toes.
   
   
   
2. This is a move from a free Rebecca Pacheco yoga video that she did for runners:  Click here to view it. It’s called Figure 4, and it can be done standing or while lying on one’s back. The supporting leg is strong through the glutes, while the bent leg resting on the other knee receives a deeply satisfying stretch through the hips and IT band. 

  

   3. Also from Rebecca Pacheco’s video, this move, a lizard lunge with a pigeon of some sort (I know my yogi vocabulary is expert...), opens the hips and stretches the quad. If your back foot can reach your hand, then the stretch is deepened. If not, then pushing against the front thigh adds resistance to increase the stretch. 

   

  4. After doing the lizard-pigeon-thing in the last move, this deep squat with flat feet    and straight spine is an amazing hip stretch of opening and adjusting proportions. This one took me a while to achieve, and now my hip flexors are much happier. 

5. 6. 7. These moves all help me activate my glutes. Each day I always do 20 donkey kicks (and then fire hydrants (not pictured) with a resistance band. Who knew such a simple move could have profound stabilizing effects on my hips and glutes. After these, I choose to do either squats OR lunges, not usually both on the same day. Deep squats and lunges, intentionally using my glutes and hips, not just my quads, have really helped me use my hips as a fulcrum in my form, with help from my glutes. It has really changed my fitness to realize how my glute muscles have to be turned on before I begin my runs. Otherwise, they let my quads do all the work. And that makes my IT band sad. Glute activation—so many ways to Google and explore. In the picture of the squat I have a balance board (from Five Below for $5 a couple years ago). That has also helped me focus on finding my core strength, to do squats while not wobbling.

8. 9. I saved my favorite injury prevention tool for last. Gua sha muscle scraping massage has saved.my.running. I wrote a blog post on it months ago, so I won’t go into detail again. Research it. Pros are using this ancient Chinese blood flow tool to recover injured muscles AND prepare muscles to not get injured. It healed my IT band woes of years that physical therapy and rest didn’t affect. The initial therapy was painful and caused intense bruising (last photo), but after a week or two, the muscles were recovered. Now I do it every day before and after my runs on my IT bands, as well as the tops, bottoms, and backs of my feet— no pain and no bruising, just simple injury prevention through deep tissue blood flow. You can find a range of prices on Amazon for Gua sha blades. This is the one I got : Stickon. The dull side of a butter knife also works well, so know you don’t have to spend ridiculous prices just because those tools exist. 

Running is such a blessing because of how it intensely requires a harmony between mind and body, breath and tissue, muscles and bones. Our bodies require lots of warming, stretching, and repair to grow in this sport. As much as aging can discourage a person, I keep praising God for how my body repairs so many parts between each day’s run. My body will last less than my spirit. Scripture tells so much of how Christ repairs and progresses our souls. Running magnifies the glory of that for me. 

Isaiah 40:31: "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

1 Peter 5:10: And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast."

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 "Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

True Peace and recovery to you!

Not Allowed to Harm Myself, Am Allowed to Help Myself

Loving our kids has melted my hard heart into a malleable ball of ever-transforming-in-love magma. My whole life has been filling my heart with ingredients, some good and some bad; and now God is mixing them up in a refining boil, removing the harmful ones and deepening the nourishing ones. He continues to create something beautiful in me, and I know he won't give up until the work is complete. The sensitivity I have to what I collected in my heart, how much it hurts to relive or reorder some of the difficult things, the parallel of past trials with present ones, makes supporting our children's hearts an epic journey of humbling proportions. The trek spans the spectrum of emotions from bitterness to gratitude and everything in-between. Everything belongs, taking one step into the next. We make mistakes, our parents make mistakes. We do things right, our parents do things right. We support our kids in ways they'll never understand, our parents support us in ways we'll never understand. God supports us all. 

The way I used to perceive my relationship with God, a very volatile connection based on my weakness, harmed me. What point did I serve, except annihilation? Now that I can digest and process how my existence--the good and bad responses--is contained in the gracious salvation of Christ's not-prudish, not-immature, not-elementary, not-competive-doctrine love for me, I can grow and move forward. Knowing my kids, in all their very human glory of weaknesses and strengths, are more than imperfections to be annihilated, helps me feel more supportive of myself and others. Grace abounds. Each created person is an impossibly complex and dynamic combination of experiences, feelings, and thoughts.

I happy to be a very neurotic person, who holds every.failure.ever (my own and others') too close to my heart. Shame for the past isolates me, fear for the future paralyzes me. At the peak of my depression, two to five years ago, I turned a corner in my journey. I claimed that spirit of power and love and self-discipline that Jesus gives me. I still have to claim it most days, intentionally choosing not to be timid and fearful. Some days I have to choose it multiple times. I sometimes even hit an invisible START OVER button in the air over my head on days that call for tactile support.

Getting my thoughts in order is a journey, not at arrival:

First, I listened to my counselor, husband, and family and started an antidepressant. I admire the dutiful mentors in my life, who have the mental fortitude to survive wars and dysfunction, literally. I tried to push through the minefield of my brain chemistry with sheer will to stand in those ranks. But then my counselor gave me a helpful metaphor for how our brains move our thoughts: All of us experience anxious thoughts, and healthy brains can wave goodbye as they pass; but brains with a chemical disorder will trap those anxious thoughts in a mental tunnel of Velcro, until there is no way to see around them. And if all a person can see are fears, then (s)he'll likely sink into depression. It took a few adjustments, but after two+ years of taking medication, YES, that metaphor is true. It is powerful, loving, and disciplined to accept help. My lens affects the people I love the most.

Then, once I got my thoughts un-constipated, the flow of healthy psychological tools and biblical support in my heart could rush to the places that needed healing and continue reconstruction. A list of cognitive distortions can easily be found on Google. The amount of automatic lies we tell ourselves is devastating. Learning what those lies are is the beginning  if a battle against what is false to claim what is true. Once I know how to confront my thoughts, become ever more sensitive to what is true and what is not, the biblical truths can be what they're meant to be: strength for walking in salvation through a world of unpredictable weather. Saying goodbye to blind optimism and toxic cynicism is a journey worth enduring. That's why I am sharing this now. Jesus is part of the ongoing physical, mental, and spiritual creation of this world. And how amazing is this time of psychological pioneering to walk hand-in-hand beside Him as he points at the beauties of what He made. Don't discount psychology.

My bookclub read Dark Matter by Blake Crouch a few months ago. A physics professor is kidnapped into an alternate reality in his multiverse. It seems impossible for him to find the way back to his reality, so when he wants to give up, he repeats:

"I am not allowed to think I'm crazy. I am allowed to solve this problem."

When I get bogged down by the heartaches of others; by my own inadequacy to heal my own aches, much less others'; by my own weaknesses as I train for spiritual warfare or a marathon or one day parenting teenagers; by disappointments in my heritage; I repeat that mantra to myself move forward.

And I have different versions for different situations:

"I am not allowed to drown in this pit. I am allowed to climb out."
"I am not allowed to step forward off this cliff. I am allowed to take steps back and find a different route."
"I am not allowed to injure myself. I am allowed to either rest or gently test my adjustment edges."
"I am not allowed to predict the future. I am allowed to take the next right step."
"I am not allowed to panic. I am allowed to take a deep breath for calm."

Here is a note card that my counselor wrote years ago to help me identify harmful thoughts:

Solutions are everywhere, and God made us incredibly creative to grow in His strength and courage. Peace and joy to you, friends.

You're Not a Baby to Throw Out With Bath Water

"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." Proverbs 4:23

"...but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up into eternal life." John 4:14

"If anyone is thirsty, let him come and drink... streams of living water will flow from within him." John 7:37&38

Our first son turned 9 this week. Each day of parenting is full of reflections on past impacts to make positive changes for the future, and birthdays concentrate all those feelings and thoughts exponentially. That’s really true of being a person, regardless of whether one is a parent or not. We’re set in a cycle of time — rapid or deep breaths and heartbeats in orbiting hours, days, seasons, years. How I used to look at my maturation process in time became dangerous for me, until I accepted something new about my unchanging Christ, something I’d always heard but never accepted because I'd frosted my heart with mean things I'd believed.

The Bible is a beautiful story about God’s love for people, and it’s a narrative that includes incomprehensibly complex notions of time and culture that have been further complicated by people’s grasping, insecure demands. I accept that my God is absolutely good and constant. I reject that my (or anyone's) little pinprick of logic, emotion, or any combination of the two can possibly have all the answers for a perfect character. As a kid, learning about existence, I interpreted flowing, transforming truths of life as concrete, brittle facts. Eden was God filling up a perfect bath, setting Baby in it, and Baby better keep that bath water pure or we’re going to have to toss out Baby with the nasty bath water. Decline and annihilation. 

All my life I have heard sermons and conversations about how “no person is perfect,” “none is righteous,” “we all need Jesus to save us from our sins” — all very true. But underneath all those words, all the interactions, were unforgiving expectations of perfection and a rejection of the individual suffering process through Christ’s long-suffering power. My life became dirty and useless the first time I soiled the bath water with envy, lust, or bitterness. The first time I disappointed anyone in charge of me was the end of my worth. And I sat in it, begging Jesus to help me not hate myself, because what other choice was there in that scarce supply of goodness? I was about to toss Nicoll out with the shamefully filthy bath water.

Without surrendering to the flow of Jesus's forgiving work, my heart is a cesspool.
Endless praises to Him for this not being my reality.

As a new wife, I viewed our marriage as this bath water I had to keep clean. As a new mom, I viewed our child’s wellbeing as this bath water I had to keep clean. As a friend, I still don’t have a lot of comfortable friendships because there’s no way to do life without some disagreements or judgments that feel uncomfortable. So would I rather sit, isolated and paralyzed, in this falsely clean water, only to despair when I realize all my best intentions muddied it up anyway? And although I’ve had heartache and struggle, I come from a goody-two-shoes culture of privilege. What hope could there be for people who’ve been significantly harmed or were born into bad situations? The gigantic global hopelessness became suffocating.

The simple, easy-to-take-for-granted cliche “Don’t throw out the baby with the bath water” has come to mean so much to me, a recovering neurotic, especially in light of Jesus’s identity as Living Water. He promises that He will flow from me, from any of us. Instead of a scarce supply in a limited tub, His righteousness is an Abundant Flow from a Everlasting Source out of my control. Nothing is as either-or/black-white/worthy-useless as we striving-for-approval-despite-logs-in-our-eyes humans make it seem. I can’t understand it. But I sense its reality now that I’ve surrendered my heart to His mysterious ways. I need constant reminding and practice, part of my point. Flowing water keeps me clean. It keeps me refreshed. Even when I bleed the mud and debris of storms or am invaded by the pests of the evil one, Jesus keeps flowing and healing me.

When depression and anxiety catch me in a riptide, when I fight with everything I have to be anyone but me, I practice surrendering to my humanity ... or I'll lose to my weakness in the forces out of my control.

I will never have all the answers, but I can find solutions.

I will make mistakes, even willfully harm myself or others by selfishness, but I can face them and apply positive changes. 

I cannot control people’s perceptions of my best-laid plans, but I can learn how to please my Audience of One.

My love may go misunderstood, but I’ll do it anyway. 

I may continue to find out each decade what an ignorant jerk I was “back then,” but I’ll rejoice in growth.

In the icky failures, I can also accept the clean realities: the responses of strength and hope because of mercy and grace in love. They may have been small, they may have been floating alongside fear, others may have mocked them; but I let Jesus hold them close to my wellspring of life for His glory and work, while the imperfections slide by into wherever He can refine them through this flow of Living Water.

When my husband and I fight, we find mutually constructive compromises that make our team stronger for the next obstacle. 

When we yell at our kids, we show them that everyone loses control — and can gain it back, apologize, and move forward together. 

When our kids make mistakes, we get to share our weaknesses and how God finds strength and weaves grace into them when we engage with His loving purposes.

When someone in our community disapproves, we get to find common ground and either support each other on separate paths and/or join together where possible. 

When we learn concepts that take us on a different trail than our heritage, we get to keep what is good and let go of what is bad to blaze a healthier future.

We get to practice and learn. 

And practice some more and learn some more. 

It never has to be all or nothing nor now or never—because Jesus is a river of peace and healing, who lasts eternally. He isn’t as urgent or impatient as we are because His vision is eternal, not political or temporal. He is an ever-patient and kind caregiver, no matter how late bath time is after an exhausting day or how many splashes make a mess all over the bathroom. 

Peace-that-passes-understanding like a river. 

The cleansing flow. 

Wellspring of daily life.

Never give up. Love never gives up. Don’t throw out the good things you have because of the bad things. Discover every tiny treasure inside and value it as God’s work that He *will* complete, no matter who else appreciates it or not.