B2B

There are very few things as truly San Franciscan as Bay to Breakers. It's a 40,000 person springtime Sunday party, a race through the city, and Halloween all rolled in to one. San Francisco is Bay to Breakers and Bay to Breakers is San Francisco.

I remember my first Bay to Breakers (B2B). I had been living in San Francisco for about five months, newly returned from the Peace Corps. I wasn't yet a runner. I had only a few friends. I wasn't a big drinker. But somehow I found myself in a Bay to Breakers group, complete with matching t-shirts, a float, and all the beer we could fit in a shopping cart. 

Our theme was the Duff beer guy

That first B2B had a lot of firsts for me. The first time I tried skateboarding. The first time I entered a race. The first time I tossed tortillas in the air and passed men and women in salmon costumes running the opposite direction. And I definitely didn't make it to to ocean (aka the breakers). Still true today, B2B 2007 was the only time in my life I have been drunk before 8am (that wasn't from the night before).

B2B costumes can get pretty elaborate. I'm always impressed.

Proudly, my Bay to Breakers 2008 was not a repeat performance. Over these past seven years I have slept through the race, watched the race in Hayes Valley with friends, driven my boyfriend to the start of the race, cheered on random runners near the end of the race, and run the race myself. I  long ago learned that the best way to avoid the late drunkenness of those walking the race with floats, yet still experience the costumes and massive groups of people, was to run the race myself. Alongside all the people. To be one of the people. To make it to the end and then hit the bbq. Because Bay to Breakers is also San Francisco's official welcome to summer.

 Racing through this amazing city with 40,000 other people is quite an experience!

Thus, as I found late May quickly approaching, I couldn't think of a more appropriate first race post-marathon. Which is why I chose to run Bay to Breakers 2015. It would be my return to running short races (a quick 12K or 7.5 miler). It would be my first race back from so many things; from the flu, from new orthotics, from running once a week, if at all. But most importantly, it would be my first race back from the marathon.

The starting line of Bay to Breakers 2015

It's a strange feeling, running a short race. I found myself exactly on pace. And enjoying the scenery. And the costumes. But I also found myself anxious to be finished already. To be at the finish line, enjoying coconut water and potato chips. To be home already and in a hot shower. But I was still in the middle of the race. But by mile six I was just ready to be finished. So I sped up.

But then I began to really think about enjoying what I was doing. To realize how fun it was to run with no preparation. How I didn't pick out a special running outfit the night before or bother with goo. How easy it was to run a negative split - finally! (A negative split means running the second half of a race faster than the first. It's always a mini-goal of mine and I knew I had done it this time!) I also knew I didn't PR, but I didn't care. Because, I realized, it was a little chilly and slightly overcast most of the way; my perfect running weather. 

 Making it all the way to the beach (in costume) is always impressive

Most days I honestly don't know if I'll ever race again. I ran a marathon, for crying out loud. What else do I have to prove? I don't know if I have the patience to start training all over again. I don't know if I can run that distance again. I don't know if I should. And I don't know if I want to.

I'm not certain what the future has in store for me and road racing. The same can be said for Bay to Breakers. Every year there are more restrictions on the race, more police presence, fewer floats. But despite the mayhem, the nudity, the drunken sh$% show that it truly is, Bay to Breakers still belongs to San Franciscans. It is still ours. For over 100 years now we've been running across town, from the bay to the breakers. And I can't imagine spending the third Sunday in May any other way.

fitness therapy

Coming down from my marathon high, I had to decide where to go next. While I wasn't about to give up running any time soon, I found myself longing for something new. And because of the weight I had gained while training for the marathon, I was also looking for a way to kick start my metabolism. Years ago, running had done that. A few years ago, after settling into my running routine, I started lifting weights with a trainer and, no surprise, the new exercise gave my metabolism another nice boost. So once again I found myself at a crossroads. Where should I go next?

With no shortage of workouts available to me, I chose TRX. Or rather, I decided to give a few new workouts a try and TRX came out on top. For now. I'm not an all or nothing kind of person. While training for the marathon, I would lift weights, run intervals, climb stairs, go for (short) bike rides, and practice Yoga and Zumba. The majority of my workouts were runs, but not all of them.

The past few years I've also tried working out at home. I'm a fan of Jillian Michaels - I find her voice less annoying than others and her workouts tough. But home workouts weren't cutting it for me. I could just crap out easily and no one (except my belly) would ever notice.

I first decided to sign up for a month of unlimited classes at a nearby gym. Actually, it's a gym located directly on my commute home from work. The gym had two very important components and these are the reasons I chose it above all others. It offered classes in the evening. And it had online class registration. It was very no nonsense. You sign up. Then you go. All I had to do was go that first time (always the hardest for me).

And I went. I didn't know much about the gym or the types of workouts it offered or what I was going to experience. I did know the gym wasn't CrossFit and I had heard (and read) great things about TRX. But I don't think I really understood how tough the classes would be. I had just run a marathon, after all. I could easily conquer anything they could throw at me.

Well, this particular gym has become my sanctuary. The classes are small. Everyone knows your name. So I continue to go. And work my butt off. The gym offers a small variety of classes. The two I rotate between are HIIT (high intensity interval training) and TRX (total body resistance exercise). HIIT is basically indoor boot camp. TRX is basically a trapeze. Except not really. It's a set of adjustable stirrups used to help you throw your own weight around. It requires coordination and is not a natural fit for someone as uncoordinated as myself. Yet I find myself loving it. My own weight has caused me to work muscles in my arms I never thought existed. TRX has caused me to feel the burn while holding a plank, feet still inside the stirrups. And pressing my own body weight has caused me to spend the better part of my first week in pain. And yet, I go back for more.

My TRX and the class set of TRXs

I tried a few other gyms on my quest to mix up my post-marathon workouts. From Orange Theory to track workouts, these programs involved too much running. As I runner, I know that criticism might sound strange. But running is the thing I do myself. If my goal is to work out hard, I don't really enjoy a class where half of it is spent on a treadmill (for so many reasons). I still run outside several times a week; varied short midweek runs and one long run every Sunday. This is my recovery/training program. And it feels like it's working. Every run is less exhausting than it was before. At times I even feel light on my feet.

A little motivation at the gym

Because in addition to my interval, short, and long runs, I go a small gym. Where everyone is kind. And there's no waiting in line. There are only people who swear by the TRX. I just mostly swear at it. I think I have a love-hate relationship with the suspension stirrups. But I can feel my body transforming. I can hold positions longer. I don't know how long this new fad workshop mechanism will keep me satisfied, but I'm enjoying the ride. Once over the steep learning curve, the TRX has quickly become the mechanism with which I will transform my body. And it definitely passes the time more quickly than the elliptical machine ever will. And that's good enough for now.

charcot marie foot

"Symptoms, then are in reality nothing but the cry from suffering organs"
-Dr. Jean Martin Charcot

Ever since I can remember I've suffered from mid-sleep charlie horses. If you're not familiar with the term, I get cramps in my calves while I'm asleep. Yes, I said while I'm asleep. In complete and total pain is a very jarring way to wake up.

So you can imagine my surprise when, halfway through my very first marathon, both my calves started actively cramping. Calf and foot cramps, until that point, had been reserved for laying down and/or sleeping. But instead I found myself running (for over two hours) through the active cramping in my lower legs. When I finally finished the race, medics put ice bags on my calves. While that helped relieve the pain a bit, removing the ice resulted in two of the worst cramps of my life; charlie horses so painful I dropped to the ground, screaming and swearing uncontrollably and scaring the medics who had circled around me and my family. All I could think was, "I haven't had a calf cramp this bad since I was fifteen years old." And I probably hadn't.

Running a marathon (and smiling) while my legs are actively cramping

If you've never suffered from a calf cramp (or in my case, many many calf cramps), you are lucky. They are painful. I'm never sure when they'll start, I do not know how best to ease them, and I absolutely do not know how to prevent them.

I wasn't the only person in my household with this mysterious midnight pain. My brother also suffered from mid-sleep calf cramps (and was the one who first used the term "Charley horse" and taught me its meaning). Most of my memories of Dave's calf cramps were during his high school years. Despite being two and a half years younger than Dave, we would both suffer leg pain at the same time, often during the same night. While I would always choose to instantly grab my leg (or legs) and try to massage out the cramp, Dave chose another treatment; he'd try to stomp them out. Dave would suddenly jump out of bed and start stomping down on his leg. Once he was satisfied he'd gotten the cramp out, he'd fall right back onto his bed and into sleep. The number of times I woke up to the sound of Dave stomping his leg are too numerous to count. It was a typical occurrence in our home.

And clearly I still continue to get these cramps. What's interesting to me it that there is very little known about WHY I get searing pain in my calf muscles that wake me up. I have been told about any number of possible causes of my distress, but none of them make any sense. Everyone seems to offer up an unsolicited solutions to this problem. First up, lack of potassium. Sorry friends, but I am absolutely 100% not potassium deficient. It's not the culprit. Trust me; I have my potassium level checked every six months (an unrelated concern). More potassium will not eliminate my cramps; I could eat all the bananas in the world and not get better.

The suggestion that dehydration is to blame for my charlie horses is much more believable. I don't drink enough. I try, especially with all the running I do. But I am always thirsty, most especially in the middle of the night. So I drink a lot. And I pee a lot. And I drink a lot more. But I never feel hydrated.

During my post-marathon calf cramp fit, my mom offered up some life changing information; calf and foot cramping is a symptom of Charcot Marie Tooth disease. Charcot Marie Tooth (CMT) comprises a group of disorders passed down through families that affect the nerves outside the brain and spine; aka the peripheral nerves. I know, it's an odd name for a foot disease (actually it's foot and hand). But it's named after the three doctors (Charcot, Marie, and Tooth) who discovered it. Several members of my family suffer from CMTX, the x-linked form of the disease.

After the marathon I had truly reached my breaking point. My feet had been hurting so bad for so long I had to finally see a podiatrist. Four days later I had the official diagnosis; I have Charcot Marie Tooth. I wish I could say I'm not devastated. But I am. Why else would I have avoided the podiatrist for twenty years? Up until last week I had still hoped I'd hear, "new shoes will fix your chronic foot pain." But they won't. Foot pain is a part of me. Most of the people close to me know my feet hurt every single day. Some days I run with the pain. Other days I run through the pain. But most of the time, I run despite the pain.

Packing for a marathon includes lots of 2nd skin bandages

So what does this mean for a (now official) marathoner? Of course I had to ask my doctor about the running. Would I have to give it up? The short answer is no. With lots of orthotics. And maybe surgery. But first orthotics, lots and lots of orthotics. And new shoes. And stretches. And special exercises. And the frozen water bottle under the foot trick that I promise alleviates plantar fasciitis.

Many people prefer to keep their CMT on the down low. In their defense, the symptoms can become very dehabilitating, especially for men. But I'm putting it out there; I am a marathon runner with CMT. Because I want you to know. And to understand. If we're out walking together, I'd like you to slow down. And when we're out on a hike, the pain might become so unbearable for me we have to either stop for a while or immediately turn back. But the pain won't stop me. I will continue to go out and run. And maybe even hike once and a while. And maybe, just maybe, someday I'll run another marathon. After all, "few things in life match the thrill of a marathon." (Fred Lebow, runner and founder of the NYC Marathon). Mr. Lebow, I completely agree.

I'm already thinking about my next marathon...

grounded

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.
~Martin Luther King, Jr.

Five days after signing up to officially run my first marathon, I had a rude awakening. Simply put, I had a bad run. It does happen, albeit rarely. But it hadn't happened to me in a very long time. So long so that I had forgotten how frustrating a bad run can make me feel.

This particular run started the same as all the others. I left work a few hours early to be able to get in a mid-length mid-week run before the sun went down. The weather had been cold for months and the sun still set before 5pm. If I was going to run nine miles (for approximately 90 minutes), I'd have to set out no later than 3:30pm to beat the sunset. It was definitely doable.

A late afternoon run around the lake

I prepared to run the same as always; I taped up my toes (covering my blisters), set up my iPod, and drank a good amount of water. I had just hit the ground running, when boom, the problems started exploding from every direction. First, my running capris were too loose. And I really had to pee. Then my prescription sunglasses wouldn't stay on. And my headband wasn't tight enough. And then my knee brace wasn't tight enough either. And one of my running earbuds broke off. What was going on?

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, my asthma flared up. I had used my inhaler before the run, as I always do. Yet there I was, less than 10 minutes into a 90 minute run and I couldn't breathe. If you have ever felt short of breath, it's awful. Imaging trying to run through the shooting side pain that then ensues. In case you're trying to imagine this scenario, let me just tell you that you can't run through this pain. You have to walk until the pain subsides (usually helped along for me with copious amounts of cold water and more use of the inhaler).

Things were going terribly. I kept thinking about the shortest distance to my car, where I could hop in, drive home, and wash away the horrible terrible run. After first finding the nearest bathroom, of course. But instead of running away (literally), I took the time to ask myself the following: Was it really worth just giving up completely? Or could I possibly find a silver lining somewhere in this crappy, painful Wednesday afternoon run? 

Immediately, I knew there were several lessons to be learned. So I first focused on the physical issues, the things right in front of me that I could control. I focused on breathing until the asthma was under control. Then, as quickly as possible, I ran to the nearest restroom, only one mile away. I wedged the broken ear-bud into my ear, and rolled over my pants so they became tighter. I pulled up my knee brace. Now I was getting somewhere.

Then I decided to focus on the things a little more out of my control. I started to think about what I could accomplish that afternoon, using the opportunity to test myself; to see how fast I could run one mile. Because the need to complete all nine miles was clearly a thing of the past. I also took the time to look around; it was an absolutely gorgeous afternoon on the lake.

Having a bad run wasn't fun. I wouldn't call it a positive experience. Instead, it was humiliating, tough, and, most importantly, humbling. It put me in my place. For the past six months I had been slowly moving forward. What started as 8 miles soon turned into 13, then 16, then 18 and finally 20. It led me to believe I could and would run a complete marathon. 

But this bad run didn't deter me. A bad run can't stop me and doesn't set me back. A bad run grounds me; it reminds me that am human and I am allowed to have a bad day. I am allowed to take a rest and yet still be prepared. And the problems I encounter on a bad run only further prepare me for race day. 

This mid-week no pressure run was not an integral part of my training plan. It wasn't one of my precious weekly long runs. I've never had a bad long run (except that one way too hot morning in Mexico). In fact, I've enjoyed every single long run. There have been over 16 of them. And they've been nothing short of awesome; even the ones where all I could think about for miles was just putting one foot in front of the other and heaving myself to cover a new, longer distance.

Long runs have gotten me to the point where I could say it out loud: that I'm training for a marathon. They have been the crux of my training. But I can't forget about all the little runs in between. All the sprints on the treadmill. All the jogs through the snow in 30 degree winter. All the evening runs with only a flashlight. And every day at the gym in between. Because running is nothing, if not fun. 

Except on a bad day; a day that running has kicked my ass. But a bad day doesn't defeat me. It never will. Because I have already won. I have already run for longer than I ever thought possible. I have not only run 20 miles, but I have loved (almost) every mile of it. To a runner, this is a definite win.

Not too easy to find a running path in a city that's only 7x7

As a follow up, I'd like to mention that two days after this particularly bad run, I went out and ran the nine miles I had originally planned to complete. It went well. Then two days after that run, I went out and ran 22 miles. My longest run ever and my last marathon training long run. The pressure was on and all I can say is the run just felt awesome.

commitment

"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start."
-John Bingham

Some days I feel completely committed to my marathon training plan. Other days I feel I've committed a grave mistake. Only on race day will I know how it will all turn out. Because I've made a commitment; to run the Surf City Marathon on February 1, 2015. It'll be my first marathon. But it might also be my last.

I started running exactly seven years ago. Most people don't have a life changing story; a day when they made a conscious decision to commit to running. But I'm not most people. And I have a story. It all starts with a conversation with my very sick brother in late August 2007.

My big brother and me enjoying lunch at Hot Dougs, 2006

In the middle of a typical daily phone conversation, a nearly wheelchair-bound Dave blurted out "if I had your legs, I'd run." I responded with a barely audible "okay," figuring I'd just shrug the comment off. Instead, at that exact moment, my running career began. A runner was born. After a few initial runs (I'd never run over 5 miles in my entire life) I signed up for the first race of my life; a half-marathon. Then I committed to a running plan. And most importantly, I kept to it.

Six months later, Dave and I had one final chat. It was January 25, 2008 and I remember the evening perfectly. I didn't know it at the time, but that particular Friday night conversation would be our last. With my mom holding the phone to Dave's ear, he asked me how I did in my race. I told him I hadn't run it yet. It was coming up the following Sunday. I was nervous, but I was also prepared. We then went on to talk about other trivial things, like baking cupcakes and turkey sandwiches. Later that night, Dave went to sleep and never woke up. I spent the week grieving with my family. But I was still in half-marathon training mode and because it was winter in Chicago, I had to run a little every morning at a nearby indoor track. But I knew Dave would understand.

One week later, on February 3, 2008, I completed my first half-marathon. Then I sat down with friends and watched the Super Bowl. I don't remember anything about the game. I do remember being so proud of my accomplishment, despite my completely broken heart.

I've run too many races to count over the years. 

Including my first, the Kaiser San Francisco Half-Marathon

But those events didn't turn me off to running. On the contrary, I knew I'd continue to run. I knew I'd have many more 13.1 mile races. And I have. But what I never could have known at the time was that I would eventually commit to running a marathon. That wasn't even in my wheelhouse as any kind of possibility. It wasn't an idea I ever passed around, not to others, not even inside my own head.

Then one day I committed myself to running 26.2 miles. And I was going to do it in front of my friends, family, and a ton of total strangers. All that was left was to actually say the words out loud, find a training plan, and think of a good marathon that was 24 weeks away. Easier said than done. Until I found the Surf City Marathon on February 1.

Seven years into my running career, I have come full circle. On the exact date of my very first race, I'll run my most ambitious. It's been a long journey. Running has always been tough for me. My feet are covered in blisters. I've had to sneak out of the office numerous times to head out on a run before the sun went down. I've cancelled plans too many times to count, given up alcohol, and spent countless hours on amazon shopping for gels, compression socks, water bottles, athletic tape, running shorts, and more. 

But I'm committed to running this race. I'm moderately scared, a little bit obsessed, and probably totally crazy. But I'm also incredibly determined. And strong. I can't remember ever being this strong, both mentally and physically. For the past five months I've gotten in to the habit of going out, spending hours pushing myself through every kind of pain, and convincing myself to do it all over again in a few days. This marathon training plan has forced me to muster up every bit of patience, fortitude, courage and commitment I never knew I had.

I never set out to run a marathon on my race day anniversary. I never meant to put so much importance on a specific time period (the week leading up to the Super Bowl). It's just how this year turned out; the date when my marathon training plan completed. The time has come for me to lace up my shoes and step up to the starting line of an actual marathon. Which I will complete. Because I've already committed myself to seeing my friends and loving, supportive family on the other side of those 26.2 miles.

The Huntington Beach Surf City Marathon is sold out, but you can come cheer on the runners if you live nearby. www.runsurfcity.com

my eleven

When I'm running my weekly long run (we're talking anywhere from 10 to 20 miles these days), my guard drops and the truth of who I am and what I can accomplish comes out. I have heard too many times that running is 10% physical, 90% mental. I have found this to be the case if running conditions are optimal and I can focus on each step I take; counting as I breathe, envisioning myself making it over the hill, adjusting my gait to try to hit heel first once and a while. So yeah, every so often I find myself in ideal running conditions and I feel incredible. But most of the time, runs are hard and my body starts to physically break down. Frequently, running is just as physically challenging as mentally challenging; it's more 50/50 for me. I find myself having to push through the pain just to make it through every run.

Since there is a lot of physical strength involved in running, I take my distance run training seriously. I follow a plan. And because there is also my mental toughness being developed, I read A LOT about running. I read at least five running articles a day, covering everything from the most common mistakes runners make to how to pace yourself while training for your next long race. When it comes to running articles, I don't discriminate; I read them all. But they are all, to a degree, saying the same thing; they are giving the same tips. A friend appropriately pointed out to me that these articles are being published online as pieces from commercial enterprises; basically I need to take what they choose to write about with a grain of salt. The ultimate goal of Women's Running Magazine is to sell magazines. It's not a hidden agenda; it's actually clear and appropriate. So they post clever articles about the ten best running gadgets (really?) and what to eat the week before a marathon. And it can be helpful. But so is actually putting on your shoes (they'll tell you how to pick the best shoes for running, too) and hitting the pavement. 

Typically, a running magazine/blog/article/website will have something super generic, like this article from Active entitled, "10 tips for injury free running."

But by learning to run miles around my town several times a week, here is what I have learned (and some of it isn't pretty).

1. Sprints work. A year and a half ago I started lifting weights with a trainer. I became, and still feel, strong. One of the first and best warm-ups my trainer showed me was running sprints. Run 45 seconds on the treadmill or the pavement as fast as you possibly can, walk fast for 90 seconds, while waiting for my heart rate to drop about 30 bpm (to around 140 bpm). And then once again sprint for 45 seconds again, walk for 90 seconds, repeating this for as long as you like, for no more than 30 minutes. I typically run 1.5 miles in 15 minutes at this pace and I love it. It may at first be hard to make the full 45 seconds (30 seconds is fine, or work your way up from 20 seconds to 45 seconds with time and practice), but it has helped my race stamina tremendously. I ran a 12K three weeks ago and I was so prepared for the shorter distance race that I ran the last half mile in a full on sprint. And I crossed the finish line with a huge smile across my face. Sprinting works for me.

2. Every part of me can sweat. And it does. My elbows sweat. Okay, my elbows probably don't technically sweat, but there is a constant stream of sweat beads forming on and then shaking themselves off of my elbows. I now know that I sweat in places I didn't think possible. And you will too. My hair drips water out of my ponytail. My boobs sweat soo much they chafe. Trust me, NO ONE told me in any article about boob chafing. But it's true, we will all chafe at some point. So run out and buy yourself some body glide and don't be afraid to cover yourself with it. Because it works. "Chafing" is no longer a part of my running vocabulary. No more covering everything with band-aids - I've evolved.

3. My hip hurts when I run. Okay, this I actually did read about in a running magazine. But it's also something important that affects me. Because only my right hip hurts. But wow does it hurt. It has ALMOST caused me to stop every long run I've ever attempted. But it hasn't yet. Instead, my hip just hurts and I deal with it, typically starting mid-run. But it's only on the right side. Go figure.

http://www.curatedquotes.com/picture-quotes/run-can-walk/

4. There are runners who race. But there are other runners who don't. I race every once and a while (once or twice a year) because I love the actual race. I race to see the city in the morning. I race to experience the joy of running with total strangers. I race to push myself to my limit. And, as a novice, I race to figure out my pace; to get a sense of just how long and how fast (or slow) I am actually running. But there are many people I know who are true runners that don't ever race. Racing is not for them. But they are more dedicated to running than I have ever been. Non racers run several times a week, and have been for years. And they will continue to run long after I've given up.

5. I do the Gu. At first, I was skeptical of using gels and goos. I can still not need any pre-race prep. Sometimes it's okay just to tie on my shoes, go outside, and run 7 miles. No problem. But on longer runs, I found I was always hitting a half-marathon wall at mile 11. The last two miles were always evil, and felt torturous, and were in the end just too much for me. Until I started running with Gu. Gu helps. Sugar helps. The best long run I've ever had included 2 cookies and coffee pre-run, two Gus during run, and a Gatorade post-run. This got me through my longest run ever. The Gu definitely helped.

6. And cookies help too. Before a long run, I eat cookies and coffee. I have tried all other recommended breakfasts, from bananas to dry toast, peanut butter on bagels, and energy bars. I've even tried salad (an ultra-marathoners go-to breakfast), but I'd find myself throwing up by mile 8 if I hadn't eaten anything. Until I found cookies. A cookie (or four) pre-run has enough sugar to get me through the first few miles happily and don't come back up during the last few miles. It's not the advice any magazine would recommend, but it's what works for me. So I'm going to stick with it. (Runners World actually slightly agrees with me; Eat 2 Run and everyone else does not).

7. I foam roll religiously. This little piece of PVC pipe covered in foam is one of the best investments I have ever made. I love it. I foam roll almost every day. It's not necessary, but I also can't remember the last time my quads and calves have been sore post-run. Foam rolling helps with lactic acid in my legs and helps my muscles recover faster. Foam rolling hurts, at first. But then it's wonderful and I love every minute of it. I foam roll post-run and sometimes even soak my legs in an Epsom salt bath. I have skinny little legs with almost no muscle; my pencil stick legs used to hurt every single day. Now my legs (especially my quads) never scream. Well, almost never...

8. I don't run with an iPhone. And I am in the minority. Because I run outside several times a week, I typically run laps around San Francisco and I end up passing a lot of fellow runners. 90% of those running have their iPhones on them. I, on the other hand, do not. For many simple and personal reasons. The main reason is that it's heavy and bulky. The iPod nano 6th gen (with the clip and Nike+ tracking) is a runner's dream device. I use it every day. It also has incredible battery life; my iPhone does not. It holds 10,000 songs and my iPhone most certainly does not. My iPod Nano doesn't require holding it in my hand or require me to attach a giant armband (that honestly breaks every time) to my arm. So I leave my iPhone at home. Because I do this, you also can't reach me when I'm out on a run. While no one really cares that I'm unavailable for a few hours every week, I also won't post pictures taken during a run. I'd probably like to, but not enough that I would try juggling an iPhone on my arm during a 16 mile run. I only carry my iPhone when I am in a new place, like going on a random run down the beach in Mexico, getting lost on a jog through Lima, or running in the dark (its flashlight is awesome).

iPhone 6s vs iPod Nano 6th gen

Which would you choose to carry on a 10+ mile run?

9. I do run with a safety net; I carry my clipper card. I bring my bus pass with me on every long run just in case. To date, I have never had to stop mid-run nor been stranded miles from home. But in the event that I do have to stop for any number of valid reasons, I know I can always hop on a bus and be home shortly. I did this after my 12K a few weeks ago. The race ended miles from my home and since I didn't have my iPhone with me, I couldn't call a friend or even a cab. So I took the bus. And I was home in a snap. It was awesome. Because going out on a 14 mile run is difficult enough for me, knowing that if I'm having an off day or a bad run, I can always get home. This makes me feel okay. And that takes a load off my already jumpy nerves.

10. I wish all my toenails were gone. Currently, I've only got about seven remaining. And there are another one or two that are so badly bruised they should be falling off soon. The remaining toenails I wish would just hit the road. Currently, having toenails only adds to the pain. If I didn't have any nails on my toes, they wouldn't rub in my shoes and wouldn't cause any pain. And, thus, life would be better (don't worry, you don't have to see my nail-less toes; I don't typically wear sandals). If the first thing that comes to mind when I mention removing my toenails is torture, you would technically be correct. While the ripping off of toenails has been used as a mechanism of torture, simply allowing us runners (or maybe just me) to remove our whole toenails would actually make us very happy.

11. I love to talk about running, but it's not my whole life. I also talk about the book I'm reading, the trip I'm taking, what's new with my family, how things are going with my start-up company, and some of the new volunteer projects I've got going on. But I do talk A LOT about running. I'm not obsessed, I'm just in new territory and I'm scared. It's always in the back of my mind; what does this week look like? When will I fit my long run in? What will I do for my shorter runs and sprints and cross-training? Do I have everything I need to run my best run? What are my goals for the week? These thoughts (and more) are constantly running through my mind. So yeah, I may seem a little running obsessed lately. But I'm new to the run-life balance. I'd like to think I'm getting better at it every passing week.

So that's a look at what running is like for me. We all feel differently about running. But hopefully you too have wondered HOW your elbows manage to sweat. Or perhaps your loved ones also think that when you foam roll you're simply inflicting unnecessary pain on yourself and they will never enjoy doing it themselves. Or maybe you love taking mid-run selfies and I'm nuts to run without an iPhone (it certainly appears that way). Whatever gets you from mile 0 to mile 1 and all the way to mile 26 is what matters. For me, it involves a heavy amount of toe bandaging and dozens of sugar cookies. And lacing up my shoes for yet another 2+ hour run. And loving (almost) every minute of it.