…and I don’t mean just from the beach!

I’m back to running.

While I was on the beach I did a lot of this…

And some of this…

But only a very little of this…

Because, as you may recall, I was giving myself a break from running. And while I was not only on that break, but also on vacation at the beach, I spent my free time reading a few books, including Born to Run.

Wow. Runner or not, if you consider yourself an athlete, you have to read this book. Well, really, you don’t even have to be athletic. It is simply fantastic.

I felt like running and I were taking some sort of marriage counseling. Our love had waxed and waned over the years, and there were times, like just recently, where I would declare that I needed a break. Turns out that it wasn’t running that was the problem, it was me.

Even before I was read the book, I had noticed that my best race by far was my first. It wasn’t because I was blindingly fast (a 9:20 half marathon pace is hardly that), but because it was so simple and I enjoyed it the most.

It was back before I cared about pace, or shoes, or spibelts or whatever the latest running contraption was. I ran it because a friend suggested it, and I loved to run. I was knocking out 10 miles by myself without any training, so why not run a half marathon? I crossed that finish line looking for someplace where I could sign up for a full marathon.

Since then, I lost focus. Yea, things changed (like getting married 2 months later), but my attitude changed. It’s like some greedy-running bug bit me and I lost sight of the pure joy that is running. That scared me, and I wanted to prevent it, but I was too far in and didn’t know how to get out. That’s when my serious running injuries started and running, while I knew that I loved it, just wasn’t as fun anymore.

Then Ashley suggested reading Born to Run and I did.

Now I’m changed.

How so?

First of all, I’m ditching my Garmin for the most part—unless I need it for some reason, it’s just me and the open road. I want to get back to simply running before I look at pacing again. Distance I’m more interested in—I always have been, but I’ll just map my runs or change my Garmin settings so that I don’t see time or pace.

I’m also 1,000% more committed to barefoot running than I was. I had done my research earlier and knew that running shoes cause the majority of running injuries, but this books showed me something else. It showed me that not only would I be running pain-free, but that would also allow me to enjoy running so much more, like a kid at recess! Kids aren’t worried about injuries. They are just doing what they love to do, and acting like a kid should act. I’m going to be running like a runner should run—uninhibited by expensive rubber liabilities!

I’m even chucking out that indoctrination that you need new shoes every 300-500 miles. Bull. I did my best running on shoes I had for over 4 years. The more worn they become, the more naturally you run. And since I’m weaning into my Vibram FiveFingers, my Brooks will receive increasingly less attention.

Oh and races? I think I’m over them for now. I’m running the Great Race and {probably} the Philly Marathon. But other than that, this is my time to reunite myself with running and how it’s supposed to be enjoyed. I’m returning to basic running—minimalistic running, because that’s the beauty of it.

Running isn’t about expensive gear or how fast or far you can go. It’s about getting in touch with your own body. It’s about relying solely on your very own legs to carry you. It’s about pushing through your own preconceived boundaries and experiencing the wonder of how our bodies are designed. Running lets you search not only your own physical limits, but your emotional and spiritual limits as well. Every run is a reminder to me that, while I’m not dependent on anyone or anything else, I’m entirely dependent on the God who designed this remarkable body and the God who has given me this ability, and the God who has given me the spirit to push forward.

That’s what running is to me. That’s the running that I married so long ago.

That’s the runner I promise to be.

On Tuesday, Dave and I woke up to overcast skies and the threat of rain in the afternoon. Since it was too windy and dreary to enjoy the morning seaside, we decided to explore the village of Ocracoke.

We were staying in Hatteras Village, which is the furthest town south on the Outer Banks, unless you take the ferry across the Pamlico sound to the Island of Ocracoke. We thought that we would just ride our bikes to the ferry, on the ferry, and around the village of Ocracoke, get some lunch, and head back.

Sounds like an ideal day, right?

Well, it started out that way.

It wasn’t as overcast as we assumed, but the wind was blowing about 20 mph, still we had the perfect vacation day trip ahead of us. We rode the 2 miles to the ferry and hopped on and our spirits were high…

Until we got off of the ferry and saw the sign, “Ocracoke Village: 14 miles”

Say what?

At first there was shock. But then we pepped ourselves up. It’s only 14 miles, we’re on bikes, and it’s flat. We can totally do this. And by “we” I mean “me”. Dave rides half centuries for fun and is currently training for a 150 mile ride in the middle of June. Me? Well, the furthest I have ever ridden was 14 miles back in April. And I don’t think I’ve ridden since. In fact, I think I’ve only taken this bike for a ride a meager 3 times since I got it in March. Whew. I tried not to think about that.

About 5 miles in is when my butt (no cushioned bike shorts for this trip) and my attitude went sour. I didn’t let Dave talk to me. I was focused on passing the mile markers as quickly as I could without killing myself. And I did notice that I wasn’t passing them nearly as quickly as I preferred.

It was also during this time that I realized that in our rush to get beat the rain, I neither ate nor drank anything. Great start to my perfect day, right?

When we finally got there, we stopped at this little diner, The Flying Melon. I quickly scanned the menu and ordered the following:

-a large Orange Juice
-Sweet potato pancakes (with orange butter?! yum!!)
- a side of fresh fruit

As soon as I ordered, I chugged two glasses of water, and when the food came out I inhaled it so quickly that I don’t remember much about it. I do remember making a mental note to recreate the recipe at home. So that I will do, I promise. I guess I liked it?

We then hopped back on our bikes and rode around the little village for awhile. We had a small desire to see the lighthouse, and when we saw it from a distance we made our way in that general direction, but for whatever reason we could not find the road that leads to it. So we gave up.

Next objective: find a bathroom. Unfortunately, Ocracoke businesses don’t like to share their restrooms with the public. So now I was uncomfortably full, my legs and crotch were on fire, and I had to go to the bathroom before our 14 mile ride back to the Ferry (and 2 more miles to our cabana). Excellent.

We discovered an open toilet at a hole-in-the-wall bait and tackle store, and I had to apply the squat-and-hover-method…you know, really easy for the newbie cyclist who just rode 16 miles and is about to embark on 16 more. Nothing quite like fire in the quads, eh?

So we started back. This time we were riding straight into 20 mph winds. Dave was kind enough to let me draft off of him, but in my opinion, it didn’t do much of anything. The only thing it really did was stir up images of The Office episode when Michael puts together an office fun run and Andy “drafts” off of Kevin.

(Source)

The humor was lost on me at that moment.

So the only thing I could think to do was to keep my head down and this time not look at the mile markers. I didn’t want to know how slowly we were going.

When my legs were smoking, my back screaming, and my stomach was arguing with the sweet potato pancakes, I knew I needed a break. I hopped off my bike and accidently noticed that we had only travelled 3 miles. THREE MILES. Dave wisely noted that it felt like we were on a treadmill. Yup. Like a hamster in a wheel, could it get any worse?

Yes. Because then it started to rain.

You think I’m kidding? I’m not. It wasn’t a downpour or anything, but enough to both cause and conceal my tears.

I was trying to weigh my options. Was I more interested in getting home as soon as possible, or did I want to choose the most comfortable option? I chose comfort. My adductors were on fire, my quads were numb, and, in case your unfamiliar with rode bikes, they aren’t made for comfort…my crotch was feeling bruised. Thankfully Dave was being understanding about the whole situation and let me walk.

We walked about a mile than hopped back on the bikes and rode another three… then we walked another mile. I know I sound like a baby, but I told Dave that this would be like him going for an accidental 10 mile run when he intended on running 2 and having no other choice but to run it all. The worst part was the distance we had left to cover. And we really HAD to do it in order to get back.

At this point, a couple in an SUV pulled up and asked if we were ok and if we need water or anything. No, thanks, but Dave did ask if they had room for us! Nope. No room, darn kayaks. We thanked them and trudged along.

About three miles from the ferry, another SUV stopped, this time it was a father and daughter. They rearranged everything in their car to fit us and our two bikes in to take us the rest of the way to the ferry. That was a lot of work for a mere three miles, but we were so thankful! The rain and wind were picking up and I had to look down to remind myself that I still had to legs beneath my torso. What an amazing blessing amidst defeat!

Anyhow, we almost zonked out in the passenger lounge on the ferry, but we still had two mile ahead of us (still into the same wind, too). Physically, those miles were just as difficult, if not more. My legs had time to rest and tell my brain just how exhausted they were. My butt was also telling my brain that it never wanted anywhere near a bike seat again… mentally, those miles were easier because I knew that all that was awaiting me was a cool shower and a nap.

And nap I did. For two solid hours (I’m the queen of two-hour naps). I think during those hours of exhaustion and delirium I might have threatened to chuck my bike into the ocean (when I regained my strength). But now that I’m on this side of it (and I can laugh about it), I think I’ll give my bike another chance. I mean, it wasn’t its fault that David and I didn’t do our research. It wasn’t its fault that we ignored The Weather Channel, or didn’t wear our padded shorts. And it certainly wasn’t my bike’s fault that I have only taken it for a ride 3 times prior.

If there’s anything at all that I’ve learned from the Ocracoke excursion, it is to do my research, and ride my bike more.

Those are lessons I can live with.

What’s your most memorable vacation excursion, either for good reasons or bad reasons?

One time in Myrtle Beach, a tornado hit a mile down the road from where we were staying. We high tailed it out of there and finished our vacation in Gatlinburg and the Smokey Mountains! My dad said it was only a few hours from the beach—turned out to be about 10!
Apparently underestimating mileage and time is a family trait I have inherited!

Hi friends, I’m currently soaking up the sun and the time with Dave and Dexter and relying solely on Live Writer’s ability to publish this post. However, I am confident that you will enjoy it! Heather is one of my best “blends” and she has graciously agreed to write a guest post for me. Heather is the writer for Then Heather Said, and is an honest, humorous and humble blogger.Her posts are always unique, heartfelt and encouraging, so I hope that you enjoy this post and head over to her blog to read some more of what Heather says.

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I like to run first thing in the morning. 

Ok. No. That’s a lie.

I like to hit snooze first thing in the morning, because usually I’ve gone to bed much past my “bed time” and am hanging on desperately to every last minute under the covers.

[this brings up a whole slew of questions, such as, why do I even have a bed time, when I haven’t actually gone to bed at this proposed time since roughly 1997, but that’s neither here nor there.]

So, like I was saying, I like to run second thing in the morning.

Wait. That’s not entirely true either.  See, I don’t actually run before work in the morning.  I actually go to work, via bicycle, in my pajamas [read: workout clothes], and then get ready for my day there, breakfast and coffee included.  I actually do two training runs a week in the evenings after work.  I bike home, then head to the trail and bust out 3, or 4, or 5 miles. Of course, by bust out, I may or may not mean run intervals while occasionally wanting to stop running and just roll myself down the hill.  But I digress.

Really though, I like to run first second third thing in the morning – on a Saturday, my long-run day. 

After waking up at 5:30, fighting the sunlight with tossing and turning for an hour or two, determined to sleep in because “that’s what weekends are for,” I finally realize it’s not working, check the weather while fueling, and dress accordingly.  Ear-buds in, water bottle and blackberry in hand, I take off towards my favorite trail.

My favorite trail starts 1.5 miles from my apartment.  I use the 1.5 mile walk as an extra long warm up, and I’ll stand by my theory that it’s helping me to prevent injuries along with the extra long cool down during my walk home.  Seriously, walking the 1.5 miles each way, gives me a chance to increase and decrease my speed gradually, stretch out tight muscles, and get my mind in the zone. [whether that be the “this run is going to be awesome” zone or the “evaluation of that run” zone is dependant on the direction in which I am walking.] 

The only downside is during this 1.5 mile trek to the trail, I pass the local favorite, Jumpin’ Jacks, which has been around longer than my parents have been alive -  the ridiculously tantalizing aroma of the charcoal pit usually has me craving my favorite item to order from the menu – a veggie burger topped with coleslaw, with a side of ice cream cone. [and before you ask, yes, the charcoal early in the mornings to get the grills hot in time for lunch. And, yes, I have been known to want an ice cream cone before 9:00 AM]  Normally, I would assure myself that I can have said veggie burger with coleslaw and ice cream cone after my run, but something tells me that eating this 3 times a week would not be the best of ideas.  Variety is the spice of life, right?

After passing the burger joint of awesomeness, I carry onward to the start of the trail, which happens to be right next to a track and two baseball diamonds.  Sometimes people are running on the track.  Sometimes there are boys playing on the baseball fields.  Of course, by boys, I mean 20-something men who at times seem to gather themselves at the top of the list of “potential next relationships.” This assembling of future romantic prospects also happens while attending open mic nights, visiting book stores, and watching Grey’s Anatomy.  [McSteamy? Yes, please.]  Athletes, musicians, book worms, and fictional doctors. See, variety is the spice of life.

Passing the second baseball diamond brings us only a few yards away from the first distance marker.  The paved trail which runs alongside a river, through lots of trees and shrubbery, is marked with distance markers every quarter mile.  This works out splendidly for a poor cheap thrifty girl as myself, who although I’ve been talking about it for a year now, still has not bit the bullet and purchased a Garmin Forerunner of her own. But really, who needs one when you can use the length of time remaining in the playlist you are listening to as a chart for time, and the spray paint on the ground as a chart for distance?

I used to make playlists of upbeat songs that had me bopping along the trail in a dance-a-long type of manner, insuring that I was going to finish the run with a smile on my face and happiness in my heart.  This jubilee was ended, however, the moment my singing along to the Spin Doctor’s Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong allowed a large [and semi crunchy] bug to commit suicide by flying into my mouth.  His unfortunate death was followed by my small concern [read: major panic] that I myself was going to die from choking on said bug, and truthfully, one causality featuring the Spin Doctors is one too many if you ask me. [Aren’t Doctor’s suppose to save people, anyway? ….Bring on the Sloan daydream….ahem…] That was the end of pop music on the trail.

Instead, I will listen to one of my favorite podcasts.  What’s a podcast?  A podcast is a series of digital media files that are released in episodes and available for download.  There are podcasts available for any number of topics and entertainment tastes. In my podcast subscription list I have over 30 different series that I have downloaded from, covering many different avenues – podcasts about TV shows I adore, running, sermons, fiction, blogging, food, and so many more.  I listen to podcasts all the time, mostly while I’m doing other things.  Doing the dishes and folding laundry, copying files at the office, walking, cooking, crafting – anything that doesn’t take too much concentration. 

When I run, I usually listen to a podcast which I know will keep my attention off of the running.  I like to distract myself and keep my mind entertained while I push through the miles. 

I may focus intently on This American Life, as I take in true stories of people I’ve never met.  This American Life has won several awards, and the proof is in the pudding. Subject matter varies widely each episode- sometimes exploring aspects of human nature or current events.  Some episodes leave me wanting to know more about the subject at hand, others have me chuckling at irony, relating to the featured story tellers, or wanting to applaud as host Ira Glass reads the credits.

Bring on the mouth watering intrigue from The Splendid Table and The Sporkful.

The Splendid Table known as the radio program for people who love to eat, has long been one of my favorite places to learn of food theory, technique, traditions, and must-try recipes and menu items. While The Sporkful is a hilarious discussion and debate about the best ways to eat each which ever food is the title namesake for the episode.  The hosts, Mark and Dan, are passionate about their opinions.  Your view of lunch will not be the same once you enjoy these podcasts.

And to prevent any insect-choking, I cover my mouth during laughter that comes from Wait! Wait! Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me is a weekly news radio quiz show that rivals SNL’s Weekend Update for my favorite way to learn what’s been going on in our crazy world. My crush on frequent contestant, Mo Rocca, aside, I make sure to never miss a show of this NPR favorite.

The Relevant Podcast comes from Relevant Magazine to cover "God. Life. Progressive Culture."  While the podcasts do feature musical performances and interviews, arguably the best segments take place during the group discussion recordings which basically consist of a group of friends sitting around talking about what’s going in the world around them – entertainment slices, personal experiences, and current events all being discussed by a handful of people I could picture sitting around my kitchen table laughing over pie and trivial pursuit.  It’s like running along side a group of friends, being distracted by great conversation.

The best part?  You can subscribe to all of these podcasts for free on iTunes. Free is a price this 27 year old “adult who still lives like a college student girl can agree with. There are thousands of podcasts out there for you to try – give it a search, I am sure you will find something that fits your fancy. 

What do you listen to when you are running?  
Are you a fan of podcasts? What are some of your favorites? Any suggestions for podcasts I should try?

Here’s a little montage my brothers put together for the wedding. As you may know, my brother owns a company that offers services like videography for weddings. They are a talented bunch, those Cruse brothers!

The song is “No One Like You” by the David Crowder Band. Nope, wasn’t “our” song, which can be found here.

Enjoy!

Two years ago today, I married my best friend.

Dave and I met at the high school Bible study which Dave led. We realized that we had a number of mutual friends, one of which consequently decided to play match-maker.

Thanks, Pat!

We started dating early in the summer of 2003. I just finished my junior year and Dave just finished his sophomore year.

What can I say, I’m a cougar!

The first year was right out of a fairy tale. All of our friends dated so we always had friends to hang out with and activities to do.

The following year I was off to college and Dave stayed behind. That year we saw each other at least once a month, but David the time getting closer to my family.

Pretty soon Dave left for college that just happened to be 45 minutes from me. That year was a year of many changes. A number of relationships changed and I was fighting a harsh spiritual battle. David remained steadfast, and was a constant source of encouragement and Biblical guidance.

Even though I had a hunch a few months after we started dating that he was “the one”, it was after this trial that I realized how blessed I was to have such a godly man in my life and I knew that he was everything I needed and wanted in a husband.

A year later, Dave took me up to Mount Washington on a cold December night and asked me to be his wife.

(source)

Obviously I said yes.

I finished college early and got a job at the college where he was a student.

God really opened up so many doors for us. Everything came together so nicely—job, apartment, finances—that we knew it was a God thing. Yup, even the fact that we would be married while David was in college. Some things you just know are right and will work out. This was one of them.

Then on May 24th, after 5 years of dating and a year and a half engagement, we were married.

It was the most perfect day. Not just the warm weather and sunny skies, but the fact that it was the first day of forever with my best friend.

I can’t say it about many people, but David has been there for me through so much. He has seen almost all of my heartbreaks, accomplishments, discouragements and celebrations. And through it all he has still loved me. Every night and every morning he still looks at me the same way and still kisses me the same way. He still pokes fun of me and still tells me when I need to get a grip. Seven years after meeting him in that Bible study, he is still the perfect man for me.

I can’t ask for anything more.

I love you, David.

“Time to lay down my life, honey, I do it gladly for you.”

~Dustin Kensrue, “Pistol”