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Showing posts from August, 2012

The Soundtrack To My Run...

I can work my iPod blindfolded.  It is always on my left hip, cord threaded under my shirt, ear buds tucked in my sports bra.  I always hit random shuffle as I don't like playlists.  I have a general rule that I don’t listen to music until the last three miles of my run.  But, tonight was different.  Tonight, I wasn’t training for anything, I was running because it was fun, and I was listening to my tunes for all fifteen miles.             Just as during races, I dedicate miles to loved ones, I have songs that will forever belong to someone or some special moment in time.  The song could be dedicated because it reminds me of the person, the person selected it or it was playing when I was with or thinking of that person.  Whatever the reason, when I hear that song on a run, I’ll think about the person who owns it.             Some people are easy.  Mark (Smiling Face), Noah (You’ll Be In My Heart) and Natalie (God Bless the Broken Road).  My siblings have songs:  Rick (Bo…

My Life as a Dirty Girl

100 miles.  The first time I attempted the distance, I left the course with kidney stones after 55 miles.  The first time I wanted to quit running all together was on the Dirty Girl course last year.  I completed an ultra there, but got lost and defeated.  “This is stupid.” I told my friends.  I was going to put away my running shoes and move on to other things. Three wonderful people gently coaxed me back.  (Thank you Roger, Kris and Denise)  I decided to take my two biggest running defeats and make the Dirty Girl my first 100-mile race.          The race got in my head.  I trained rigorously.  I was consumed by it during the weeks leading up to it.  I’d gone 75 on a nice flat course, but this would be different.  Roger describes it perfectly “I hate the Dirty Girl course. It just goes up, down, left, right constant switchbacks and single track. It's was tough for me to get in the groove last year. No long stretches to put it in cruise.”          Before the race began, I felt cal…

For Better, Worse, or !00 miles

A friend once asked me if my husband Mark really exists, or if I made him up.  The question caught me off guard, but it made sense, because it is rare for him to make an appearance at one of my races.  However, as I taper for my race next week, I have to reflect on how I know I couldn’t do what I do without him.             His support usually starts at night.  He’ll tap me on the shoulder, “Tiggs, you’re doing it again”.  I’m running in my sleep.  That’s when I know the race has totally taken me over.  Mark will usually grab his pillow and head to the guest room, knowing that neither of us will sleep as long as I log nocturnal miles.             He’ll understand as mid-sentence, I’ll stare off into space and go to check and re-check the tackle box to assure for the 100th time that yes, in fact, my head lamps do work.             He tells me of "friends" to ask him why he "lets" me do the things I do.  His response is always "have you MET Eva?...go ahead, YOU try…