Reluctant Runners.

In-house cross country meet.



The kids' school is very big on sports, whether you like them or not. 

Coming from a background of athletics my whole life, I applaud the sentiment, but part of me resents the amount of time they devote to promoting sports during school hours.  It's purely economics.  I'd rather the massive sums we pay in tuition be utilized for more time on math, science and reading.  That's it.  Keep the recesses and gym classes to burn off energy.  Those kids that want to play sports, should do it after school as part of their extra curriculars. 

That's what we did.  I played tennis, softball, rugby.  I joined the ski club in the winters and even played some basketball to keep occupied.  But we did it after school.  And we didn't drag kids into it kicking and screaming.

What we used to call Field Day, now takes two full days of pageantry during the day.  There's races, and races and races.. and odd sorts of races for those kids that don't actually like running.  Think walking with a tennis racket and balancing a ball.  There's also this cross country meet which every child must practice for at gym class and then perform one morning before parents and spectators.  They time the kids to try and improve their scores. See that field out there in the back?  They have to run it twice.  It probably works out to about a half mile, slightly more.  There's also a huge  all morning swim gala (I was there last year - the nurse brought Jordan over to me after he competed because he complained of dizziness), and an in house soccer tournament (days and weeks).

All of this occurs during school hours with much fanfare and awards given out during school assemblies.  The kids get all riled up and the winning "house" gets awarded a plaque to display under their house name in the gym.  Yes, the kid are grouped into houses.  Very Harry Potter. 

Needless to say, if you're a sporty type of kid, this is fabulous.

If you're Mina, it pretty much sucks.

She looks very brave up there, but when I arrived at the field, she was sobbing.

Poor kiddo.  I don't fully understand it, since the two of us have run together several times before.  She always seemed to enjoy that.  Maybe it's the competition.  Maybe it's the fuss.  Maybe it's the fact that she doesn't shine at sports the same way she does socially  or academically in the classroom.  She's a perfectionist, alas.

I think it's a shame, since running for me has been such a cathartic and enjoyable experience.  The way it's promoted so heavily in the schools here has turned Mina off to it.  I think back to my sports, and I distinctly recall coaches using running as a punishment.  If you were goofing off or not following the game plan - you did laps.  It wasn't until later in life that I realized running was fun in and of itself.

Maybe Mina will get there ... on her own time... once she learns the only person she has to compete with is herself.

Weekend wrap up.

Rainbows, pink castles on the horizon, and a fun little 8k sponsored by Bacardi. These were a few of my favorite things this weekend.

An 8k is about 5 miles. That's not too bad. It's a nice distance. I enjoyed it. I ran it in 51 minutes. If you're a serious runner, this is a pretty laughable speed. But the truth is, I've stopped caring that much about my speed. I just want to have fun with my running again. Last spring I got crazy and put way too much work into training for a half marathon. Between thirteen mile long runs, 40 miles weeks, speed work, hills and analyzing my Garmin statistics like a dork, it stopped being fun. And then I got hurt and couldn't even run the race I had trained months for. That really bit me in the behind. My only goal this season is to stay injury free and have fun. That's why I've kept with running this long.

I crossed the finish line, and my prizes awaited.

That was the best feeling of all.

Of course, they did have post race snacks. Spectators were welcome to help themselves. I know you're supposed to eat something post run, but I usually wait awhile. All those bagels and cereal and milk and muffins... Don't get me wrong... I definitely ate later.. 5 miles is roughly 500 or so calories. Oh, yeah. I made up for that.

I finally got my Garmin working again. Here's the breakdown. Mean anything to you? Yeah, me neither.

A beautiful day.

My time wasn't the greatest, but I ran it hard, powered the hills, and did not collapse in the heat or humidity. And I am so happy to be running again.

Bolder Boulder 2011 - Because it's cheaper than therapy.

I'm back from running the annual Bolder-Boulder 10k. I did a lot of training this year, including following a training program designed for a half marathon. I completed it, but skipped the half because of leg issues. I was nervous about running Boulder because I had to take several weeks off to heal. But, as any runner knows - this is a mental game more than anything else.



(For the record, I am 5' 5", but standing next to these two makes me look like a little, brown leprechaun.)

Highlights: Beating my time from last year by five minutes. YES!! This was a good run for me. I didn't push myself, the hills were a breeze, I was able to sprint the last quarter mile, including up the hill into the stadium, and I never felt winded or tired. I owe a big thanks to the running coach I worked with out here. Her class really showed me the difference between running and the slap-happy jogs I was used to doing. I'm not saying you'll see me sporting any Boston race bibs any time soon.. but still. I actually felt like a runner for a change.



Lowlight: Getting nabbed by immigration on return into BDA and fined $200 for having the wrong re-entry form. Boo.



In between, I had a blast. The Boulder run is very well attended. Why? Because running at sea level is for sissies. At least that's what the t-shirt I bought says. I'd much rather run at 6,000 feet above sea level. Apparently 50,000 other runners agree with me.



A few good men. These are the marines I shot a pic of as they passed me in formation. Their lead runners carry two full size flags on posts. Right before they they finish the 6.2 miles, they pull to the side in the stadium, drop and do twenty push ups, AND THEN finish the race together. That's hard core.

I just run in, gasp for air, and thank God I am still alive.

Most races provide water stops along the way. They do it differently out here.



They also provide supplemental fueling stations to replenish your electrolyte balance.



Of course, the best part of the race was running it with family.





I like this tradition, and I like how the group is expanding every year. Next big race is in Bermuda. I'm thinking this one. It's cheaper if we sign up early.

Who's in?

"In my dreams, I am a Kenyan."

I ran across the trail, gasping to breathe as the heaviness of the air settled in my lungs. A quick glimpse at the Garmin confirmed that I needed to pick up the pace. The sway of trees brushed a breeze across my forehead. In this humidity, any slight movement in the air counted. A drop of salt slid from from the top of my lip and merged into the hollow of my mouth.

It was 8:30 in the morning. I had dropped the kids off at school; and I was at the Arboretum.

It was my time now. It was time to run.



Two miles into this. I was warmed up. I was psyched. Now it's time for speed work.



100 yards. I prayed a good song would come up on my playlist. Something loud, driving and intense. Something to make me want to strain every muscle in my body till I got to that one crest of the hill where I could do my recovery lap.



"This is where you work," our running coach said. "Mark your pace. This is where your work begins. Only YOU know where you start. Only YOU know where you end. Only YOU know how much better you can be."



Horseshoe Beach. The sandy warm up. Up the crest of the hill, the trails and hills begin.

"I like to run," I explained, to the newish friends I met at the gym. They wondered why I started our workout an hour ahead of them on the treadmill. "I like to run first," I said. "It calms me. It gets me ready for everything else."



"You look like you've been put through the wringer already," she said.

I looked in the mirror. Sweat was pooled in the hollow of my shirt, my face was blotched and red; My hair, pulled back in a pony tail, looked more rat-like than pony-ish. The towel I held in my hand was damp.

"I put in a few miles."

Did I? I did, the machine verified.



That time was lost. Caught between the music and that moment when my breathing became second nature again... I lost track of time.

As I turned off the Ipod, I recalled the words my running coach said.

"Get off the treadmill." She said, and peeled another layer of clothing off her torso to begin stretching her arms. Her body looked Grecian. The lean layers of muscle rippled, fluid-like across her skin.

"The treadmill does NOTHING for you. Get off of it and start running the roads. Put on a pair of sweats while you're at it. Run in the humidity. You need to be prepared for less oxygen. You need to sweat."

I stared at her. This was her response to my question about how to train for high altitude running.

The distance between where she was, and where I stood spanned galaxies. But I keep trying. And even though it feels like a snail's pace. I'm going to keep trying. And I know I'm getting better.



North Shore Road, approaching Flatts. I run this on my long days and pray I don't get hit by a car. This narrow section ahead is where I sprint, just so I can be in the clear and visible to cars approaching. The better I get at this, the more brazen I become on the roads.

"YOU better look out for ME," I think.

"If you don't feel like you're going to throw up you're not running fast enough."

-redheadrunning.



(I think these are Portuguese man of wars. These were snapped by Grandma H on her last visit. However, I've seen these on my beach runs from time to time. They pop, by the way, which is an incredibly sickening sound)

Running in a class has provided some much needed motivation. Apart from learning new trails on the island, I've also gotten the benefit of wisdom from those who have been running a lot longer than I have. AND running a lot better. Most of the women in the class have been running in this class for years. I'm easily the slowest person in the group. They speed past me on the hills and can sprint like they're being chased by the devil.

That's ok. I'm better now than I was when I started running with them in October. And I intend to get better still.



"Don’t waste energy comparing yourself to the next guy/gal/transvestite. Use all of your energy to keep moving forward with your goals. It’s overstated, but true: there will always be someone faster, stronger, thinner, richer, fitter, less constipated whatever. There will also always be someone slower, weaker, fatter, poorer, more out of shape, more constipated. The only way you can truly win is when you exceed your expectations for yourself. However that looks."

Beth from "Shut up and Run." Another inspiration.

So, training continues. The next race is in May. The Bolder Boulder 2011 10k. Last year was the first time I ran it; and I had a blast. This year proves to be even more exciting as it is becoming a real family event. Both my brothers are running it, as is my sister-in-law, Dallice.

Slip and slides, catching tator tots midair, and having post-run recovery meals at Southern Sun are all on my agenda. In addition to a quick six miles. I can't wait!!

They make me so proud.

"I'm going to run the Telford Mile, mama." Jordan announced, several weeks ago.

"Me too!! I'm going to run too!!" Mina chimed in, predictably.

I looked at the two of them, chirping away like magpie twins at the kitchen counter top, and promptly forgot about the whole thing.

And then the forms started coming in from school. The Telford Electic Magic Mile is a yearly event here, held at the Bermuda National Sports Center. The profits from the event are used for children's charities. Kids run at the stadium or at the Bermuda Arboretum Park, depending on the age of the child.

I wasn't sure this was such a great idea, mainly because of Jordan's running history. He wasn't too keen on finishing the first and only race he was ever entered in back in Leonia, he quit the running club here in Bermuda because he thought it was too boring, and for the Telford Mile, he would be required to do two full laps at the stadium. For the uninitiated, that means a half mile.

But he insisted.

Later that week, I ran into the gym teacher at school. She also runs the running club. Maybe it's a cultural thing, but she was less than enthusiastic about Jordan running the race. "He has to run two laps, you know," she informed me, in that clipped accent of hers.

"Oh. Ok." I said.

"Two laps. You should think about that before you decide." She replied.

Personally, I was enraged. As a runner, I felt like my feet would fly off on the spot and like the god Mercury, scream through the air in sparks of fury in response to her cautionary words. I could feel the adrenaline scorching my veins.

But this wasn't my race.

"ok." I said. " We'll think about it."

So, I thought, "Let me take them to the stadium and let them SEE what a lap looks like. After school one day, that's exactly what I did. We drove up to Montpelier Drive, pulled our car up over the road, onto the grass (total illegal move, but a shortcut I've seen MANY people pull during the week when there are no events in session). we walked on to the track and I explained what each of them would be expected to do.

Naturally, they made a game of it, and started chasing each other around the track.

And that's all it took for me. I drove into town on the last day of registration, dropped their forms and money off at the local sports shoe store (because that's apparently what you do here), and $24 later - the kids were registered for the race.

Saturday rolled around, and the kids were off to a busy start. Both had a full morning of activities BEFORE the race. Ballet, cooking class. etc. Jeff and I hustled around between scooter and car, and got the kids to the track in time to pick up their race bibs.

Mina was first, in the four year old girls category.

She kills me. Look at this kid. This is what pure, unadulterated spirit looks like. Want to know what conquering fear looks like? Look at this child's face.

And she's tough too. We had to drop the kids off in a corral area. Some kids her age were crying and didn't want to be left alone. Some were crying at the prospect of running all by themselves. Some seemed scared at the overwhelming scene which this experience was. This wasn't some high school track. This was the National Stadium. It was HUGE! There were loudspeakers shouting announcements, there were crowds of people sitting in the stands; and it felt like pandemonium. Even as an adult, it felt overwhelming.

But my kids were cool as ice. Jordan waited in the stands for his age group to be called. He cheered for Mina and other friends he saw.

Finally, it was Jordan's turn.

Let's be honest. He came in dead last. But that's ok. He finished it. Two laps. A half mile. He ran the whole thing. He didn't stop and whine about how hard it was. He didn't complain or quit. He put one foot in front of the other and he ran the whole thing. There's a whole lot of adults out there who couldn't have done the same thing. Have you ever run a stadium lap? I have. Many times. It's dull as nails. You keep going and it feels like it's never going to end. And that's just one lap. He did two.

And in a nutshell, my kids epitomized what running can be about. One foot in front of the other. Conquer your fear. Finish it.

I was bursting with pride.

For both of them. They just kill me.

And then they ate cupcakes. Obviously.

Do Bake. Don't run in Bermuda shorts.

Tucked in striped tank top, and braided leather belt? Really??



Running fashion fail on the Brooklyn Bridge.


photo, courtesy of sprinklebakes.

Yes!

Oh, yes. Omigod, will someone make this for me? Is this not the most amazing thing ever? Peanut butter and chocolate - elevated to the heavens of baking artistry. Aziza, an extraordinary baker in her own right, shared this site with me, and I have been mesmerized since. I want everything. All of her recipes. I want to eat them. Now.

You just have to look at the level of patience required to make this. The stencils, the shaping on a wooden roller, hand-piping the peanut butter mousse. OMG, it astounds me. Of course I have to try this. Add to my list of things to do.


photo, courtesy of sprinklebakes.

I'm also slightly curious about this recipe, for the baby donuts. Just look at this picture.

But then I'd have to buy this. And honestly, it's starting to feel like the book, "If you give a mouse a cookie..." And honestly, I don't even like donuts! But these are so cute! Maybe they'll help me change my mind about donuts.

If you give an obsessive-compulsive a recipe for pretty little baked goods, she will slowly drive herself and those around her, crazy. And then she will proceed to buy more useless bakeware that will occupy every spare inch of her cabinets. And then, when she realizes she has to pack all this c-r-a-p for an anticipated move to the islands, she will suddenly realize that she doesn't have enough lifetimes to box all of it up.

And then, we hope, she will come to her senses and focus on the really important things.

Immigration papers mailed in. And now the wait begins.

4th of July, 2010.

It's that time of the year again. The annual 4th of July celebration.

I love this holiday. Apart from the joy of a long weekend, I love how perfectly it celebrates what I love best about being an American. Can there be a better way to cherish your freedom than by getting together with friends and family, eating loads of food in the comfort of your home, and enjoying the freedom to say and do pretty much what you want? I try to avoid jumping on my soapbox too often, but darn if I don't get a wee bit annoyed sometimes when I hear people complain about our lives here. We have it so lucky, compared to about 90% of the rest of the world.

All right, back to what I do best. Food.


Appetizers laid out and ready for noshing. We had an assortment of things - homemade and store bought. Hummus, chips, cheese, mango salsa. As well as jalapeno poppers, white bean dip with rosemary, tomato, basil, mozzarella, and Pioneer woman's homemade chex mix.


There's nothing I like better than a hot, sweaty man behind a grill.



I'm just kidding. What I like better is what's on the grill. Rib eye steaks.



Some veggies.



Oh, these things are dangerous. Living where we do, we have become experts on this delicacy known as Korean chicken wings. Speaking as an upstate NY kinda gal, just toss out that recipe for Buffalo wings, and get yourself some of these things. Oh.. my.. God.



The feast. Steaks, ribs, hamburgers, hot dogs, wings, corn, salad, chick pea salad, mixed vegetables, pasta salad, couscous with pine nuts and artichokes.



Not that the kids cared. In the backyard, they amused themselves, despite the record temperatures.



Mina. Gun. Slightly scary.



Not sure what the rules are here, but baseball and slip and slide sound like a fun idea.



As long as you have a fair umpire.



The kids made it to the deck to eat. My kids were notoriously absent.



Yep, there's one of them.



Dessert was served soon after - firecracker bites



strawberry shortcake



berry trifle w/whipped cream



Then I made the announcement that dessert was ready. The stampede followed.



Happy kid. I did make him eat a few bites of dinner first. The look on his face for that picture sort of kills one's appetite though.



Backyard sparklers.



Mina too.



And again. This year was the first year we let the kids stay up late enough to go to the town fireworks. Together with our guests, we walked down the street to the local high school. We found a spot on the curve of a hill and watched the fireworks unfold before our eyes. The kids were delirious with glee at seeing the fireworks up in the sky. Or they might have been delirious because they didn't get to sleep till almost 10:30. Completely unprecedented.



The next day, it was time to undo some the damage. Off we go to the town 5k. Again, record temperatures. At least I have a good racing watch though. Yay.



It was so flippin hot. We ran at 9:00 ish, and the temperatures were already in the 90's. I was trying to beat 30 minutes this year, so I tried really hard to put more speed into the race. Unfortunately, I couldn't do it. 31 minutes. But I did manage to avoid throwing up, a feeling I had to suppress repeatedly over the course of the hills.



post race, me and Nataliya.



waiting for kids race



lined up for the kids race, listening to directions



They're off!



This was the first time the kids did a race, and I had no idea what to expect. We got off to a shaky start when Jordan tripped and scraped his knee, and Mina got upset because all the big kids raced past her in a second. But, the three of us held hands and I encouraged them to just finish it. That was the most important thing. And as we headed up a slight hill, I wondered whether we'd even make it to the top, let alone race around the block. Funny thing though, something kicked into Mina, and she charged. Mina, running, down the hill solo.



I think I might frame this and call it "Determination." Little Mina had the small crowd of bystanders cheering her on. They loved her.



We will definitely need to talk about finish line etiquette. I don't know what possessed her to walk across the line, like she was going for a stroll after dinner.



And then she suddenly stopped, as if to savor the moment just a little longer.



Here comes Jordan, charging right behind.



And his own personal cheering section.



Mina, thumbs up



post-run - Jordan w/ribbon .



And Mina too. A new runner is born.

Happy 4th everyone. Happy Birthday, U.S.A.!