Some love from 207 and my new B.F.F.

I've wanted to update sooner, I really have. But in case you haven't noticed, our servers are...um...well...messed. Sorry for that. And by "sorry" I mean "I'm apologizing because I don't know what else to say and I feel badly but I really have no control over the server issues so really my apology is essentially useless, but I'm trying to comfort you anyway because I care and doesn't that make us all feel a little better?"

It's been a while since I've included any entertaining images in my blog (remember months ago when I had that entry with the turkey photos in it? I bet you didn't think turkeys had anything to do with running. Well they do. They have a lot to do with it. Just wait. One day you'll see).

At any rate, I dedicate this entry to the less literate out there. You know, those 'readers' who tend to stick to the newspaper comics without a lot of words. Those readers who skim magazines and pause only at the pretty pictures. Those readers whose Sunday morning reading consists only of the "Back to School" promotion on the side of the Lucky Charms box.

To you I vow to keep the words to a minimum.

Wait. I'm sorry, I can't do that. I have to use words. And lots of them. Probably double what is necessary. I'm kind of a talker. But then, maybe you sensed that already.

Nevertheless, you're still free to do what you normally do - ignore me altogether and look at the pictures.

The 207 piece on Maine Running Company's Reach the Beacon program aired last night. I missed the show, but thanks to the technology of the internets anyone - that's right, men, women, children alike - can watch it online.

Yesterday I watched the segment with a hand over my eyes, two fingers split just enough to peek at the footage. I was ready to cringe. I think at first maybe I was cringing.

Then suddenly, there I was! Running! "That's me!" I shouted from my cube (loud enough to cause one spilled coffee, three dirty looks and what later turned out to be a mild heart attack).

A few moments later, in the background, me again!

Me!

Sure, no one but me would ever notice. I'm in the back of the pack usually, hidden from view (remember my "run ugly" issues? Me being hidden is definitely for the best). But I noticed. And even though I was there and I know how it all really went down, I was proud of that segment.

Oh yea, I guess it's good promotion for John's running store, too.

But anyway, back to me.

Last night I went to the last Hannaford run - partly as a last ditch effort to train, but mostly because Joan Benoit Samuelson was going to be there.

I admit it - I'm a little bit star struck. I mean, it's Joan Benoit Samuelson!

Before we set out on our slated 5.5-mile run, Joan offered up some race-time words of wisdom. I think they included "run your own race," "don't watch the mile markers," and "it's easier to pass other people than it is to be passed." But really I just stood there going, "It's Joan!" over and over in my head.

Just like a couple of weeks ago, we were split into pace groups. Anna and I opted to stick in the last one, but as I scanned my fellow runners I felt suddenly very…um…slow.

No offense to these fine older fellas, but I'm a little shamed that at 29, I can't run faster than them. Or that my lack of running confidence makes me think I can't. I don't know which is worse.

But Anna and I kicked arse. We lingered at the water stations, it's true, but were able to maintain a steady run for nearly all 5.5 miles.

5.5 miles - that's nearly a 10K.

There wasn't much of a reprieve from the sun, either, but it's expected to be warm and sunny on race day, so we might as well get used to it.

Plus, just prior to the halfway turn around point near East End Beach, we happened to catch Joan on her way to the finish. She was offering up "nice jobs" and high fives. And I made sure to get me one.

(A high five from Joan Benoit Samuelson! Highlight of my year! And the birth of what will be a long and 100-percent hallucinatory friendship! Three cheers for delusions! And three cheers for Photoshop for further enabling said delusions!)

Last night was surely a confidence builder. We kept it slow in an effort to not overdo it before Saturday and timed in at just over an hour. Fine with me.

It never was about the time. It's about NOT limping to the first aid station at mile three with an overwhelming sense of failure.

And really, I don't think that's too much to ask.

The comments section isn't cooperating this morning, but bless you kind folks for e-mailing me anyway!

JC says:
Hey Shans,

I think you're going to do great!!

One thing though, well actually a couple. I once met Joan Samuelson, well,
I stood behind her at a funeral, and I've met you once. I seem to remember
her being significantly shorter than me, whereas you, not so much. Also, I
don't remember her head seeming quite so, well, BIG, in relation to the
rest of her body.

Maybe I just haven't had enough coffee yet.

Good luck, you'll do F-A-B

JC

SJO says:
KICK SOME ARSE THIS WEEKEND HON!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'll be thinking about you!

xoxoxoxo

Karen says:
Wow, Shannon! You are so ready for the 6.2 miles come Saturday. I bet JBS
will be cheering you on again as you sprint to the finish line with all the
old men. Just don't piss her off by bring a beer and a sandwich on the
course to keep you going. Run hard, run fast, run to the finish knowing your
BFF is waiting up ahead. So jealous!
SYN2F

Video: Beach to Beacon trial run

Yes, I'm lazy and reusing content from last year. But it's entertaining content (so says I, who is in no way biased).

It's a trial run of the Beach to Beacon. And yes, I'm aware that the final stretch in the video isn't 100 percent accurate. The course actually enters Fort Williams through another gate - not the main entrance.

Someone was kind enough to point that out. Of course, I never crossed the finish line last year so I guess I wouldn't have first-hand experience there. But thanks for reminding me. Much appreciated. Really.

So without further adieu, See. Shannon. Run...Sort of...

Ah, that world. It's a cruel, cruel sadist sometimes

Sometimes the world seems to go out of its way for you.

Sometimes it aligns the pieces of your life in just the right way or at just the right time.

Sometimes it puts a person or an open door in your way - I mean flagrantly in your way - when you were distracted elsewhere or not even looking up. And with a jolting thud you walk right into it, curse it momentarily and then smile because it was exactly what you hadn't thought to look for.

The world really does work that way. Sometimes.

But like everything, there's a flip side. A less talked about side. An overcast, blurry, greenish-gray side.

It's the world that also likes to screw around with you. Have a laugh at your expense. Make you look and feel a supreme fool.

That world - it's got a healthy sense of humor, that's for sure.

Allow me to elaborate:

Yesterday WCSH's 207 crew came out to do a bit on Maine Running Company's Reach the Beacon program. (You know, that little running group I've been yammering on about for the last four months.)

I had hoped to get to the run early to maybe shove myself in front of the camera to chat up the training group - and perhaps plug this here blog, too.

But slow servers at the office and a bad news phone call at the end of the day hindered that attempt.

But I made it to the Maine Running store in time for the run - and to spot the cameraman panning the group pre-sweat.

After the group was sent off to Fitzpatrick Stadium I lingered at the store to pick out my official Maine Running Company Reach the Beacon tech tee (it's plum and loverly and not nearly as tight as those dreadfully sized shirts from last year). Thus, by the time Ann and I headed out the door the camera crew was long gone filming the rest of the group.

No problem - we'll get on film racing like demons around the track, right?

Not so much. Every time we ran, the cameraman was filming in the other direction. But when we walked a lap - there he was. My group (yes, yes, the slower people) had to laugh. We were destined to look like dopes if he didn't get some dang footage of us running. (We looked horrendous anyway thanks to a little thing called torrential downpour.)

After the workout we headed back to the store via the same side streets we'd taken on the way in. We also knew that the cameraman was planning to get some final shots of runners headed back in. So we ran.

But there was no cameraman.

And it was raining, remember? And we were exhausted.

So after a few minutes we agreed the camera was likely long gone and we could walk it in to the store.

So we started walking.

And then there went a white SUV with a cameraman hanging out the back, filming.

Filming us walking. Again. Awesome.

So we decided to film ourselves running and send a tape into 207 - you know, to balance out the footage they have.

If you catch the spot on 207 (tentatively scheduled for Tuesday) and you see a group of jerks walking the entire time, please believe we do actually run.

Sometimes anyway.

You mean the race is in 10 weeks, right?

Okay, okay. I admit I missed the Tuesday night Hannaford run - but it's cool. I already ran in the a.m.

That's right, you heard me.

I got up at 6:00 in the morning and ran the good old Back Cove (a.k.a. "The Boulevard" or "Boolie" as I like to call it when I've had a few drinks and that warm 'I love everybody' haze settles in and I get to thinking we're better friends than we really are).

Of course the only notable haze Tuesday morning was settled solemnly over the water - and the rising sun quickly shooed it away.

I had been running Macworth Island in the mornings (remember, way back when, when I was full of naive enthusiasm?) but the recent rain had likely turned the trail into a mud river and the island into a mosquito birthing factory.

Besides, the short Macworth loop makes it too easy to skimp out after only one go-around. And it's too close to race day ("race" - I have to laugh) to risk cheating.

So I ran the Back Cove - well, walked some. I'm still no Olympian, people. But it felt good to get moving in the morning before heat consumes the air and before the 5:00 p.m. sugar crash drops me into walking coma.

It's good practice for the race anyway, which starts at 8:00 a.m. Training in the evening is great to a point, but it helps to get your body used to waking up, eating a bit o' grub (or "fuel" as a real athlete might call it) and being ready to run.

I typically start of the day with a cup (or six) of coffee and don't think about food until noon or so when I catch myself absentmindedly gnawing my own thumbs. But running on an empty stomach ain't good - no matter what that "Lose 50 pounds in one week!" diet plan said.

By the way, did you know the Beach to Beacon is in 10 days? Seriously, I just counted.

Shit.

Redeemed by the running gods

You were privy to my three-week trek through gluttony and indolence. It was a sorry sight, I'm sure, and I don't blame you for averting your eyes (I did, too, with a little help from a well-practiced skill called 'avoidance').

But inevitably I returned to the Thursday runs last week - and that was rough. A well-deserved kind of rough.

Tuesday was an improvement - the running gods were pleased, but understandably skeptical.

But yesterday - oh the joy that was yesterday!

It was hot - you know that, you were lying around in your own sweat all afternoon just like everybody else. It was hot and all day I bemoaned the run and the sun and secretly wished it was August 3rd and I was resting lazily in a raft on the Saco with my feet skimming the top of the cool river water and my hand happily clutching a chilled beer.

But all that in good time. First, there is a race to win. Er, run. Er, finish.

So off to the track at Fitzpatick Stadium we went. My face flushed from the effort. Sweat dampened my running shirt and my hairline…and then everything.

And while my pores drained, the running gods watched:

"She's still running," the running god Mizuno said, watching Portland from a great height.

"You don't say," Asics replied, barely looking up from his outdated copy of Runner's World.

Saucony walked over to join Mizuno on the balcony and smiled to see a small Shannon below, wiping her forehead with her shirt - almost like a professional.

"Looks like she's determined to really finish the race this time. Perhaps we should give her her spirit back, eh?" (Running gods all talk like Canadians, though no one really knows why.)

"Asics?" Saucony questioned again. "Is it okay if we stop punishing her for her tremendous slight against us? It's getting kind of depressing to watch."

After a long pause, Asics finally mumbled, "Oh, all right. Our time is better spent crushing the dreams of Olympic hopefuls anyway."

And so, back in Portland, I ran from the Maine Running store to the Fitzpatrick track and, funny thing, I didn't feel awful.

We ran once around the track and, strangely, I felt pretty damn good.

We ran it again and - holy crap - I was sightly faster than the last time.

We ran it again and (I think you see where I'm going with this) I felt strong, fast-ish even (until that REALLY fast chick blew past me - but let's not dwell there).

Four times we went around and I improved my time from 1:56 to 1:54 to 1:53 to 1:52.

"Nice job guys," John Rogers says. "You're consistent and that's good."

That is good. You know what else is good? Optimism. I used to be flooded with it, but the last few weeks it seemed Optimism had packed it bags, befriended a trucker, hitched a ride north and settled down in a quaint Canadian fishing village (where, let's face it, it'd probably be much happier). But I tell you what, I got a bit of it back and I'm going to run with it (literally and figuratively).

Those feckless days are history - there is hope for me yet.

Get your pride back in just four easy miles!

And if you call now, we'll throw in a 5-hour supply of endorphins and an improved self image FREE!

Think you can't run? Doesn't matter! With the Pride Back program you can run, jog, walk your way to inner bliss.

Okay, okay. "Bliss" may be a slight overstatement. I think maybe I meant "run, jog, walk your way to decreased self loathing." But you get my drift.

And maybe I'm a little off about the four "easy" miles. "Easy" is a word that's wide open to interpretation, kind of like "alcoholic" or "murder."

I did go to the Hannaford training run last evening - thankfully fellow Reach the Beaconer Ann was going as well, and having a running cohort is good incentive.

It took some time to get the large group organized - and I think we irked a good number of other Back Cove runners/walkers by taking up a portion of the trail to do stretches and line up.

The group was divided into four smaller groups based on pace: the freakishly fast, the less-fast-but-still-fast, the not fast and the walkers. (Those are my ingenious naming conventions. The trainers aren't that moronic.) Each group had a few pacers to lead off, with signs on their backs proclaiming their speed.

Ann and I opted for the 10-minute mile group (that'd be the "not fast group" - no offense to other runners in that group who are sure they're running at lightning speed).

And with all the talk about how there was "no humidity" yesterday I figured it'd be a good 4.5-mile jaunt around the cove. But that sun - she's a killer. She's a melter of enthusiasm and a drainer of energy. She's an unrightful punisher.

And the sun is most brutal at the tail end of the day - like one last "I'm the sun, dammit!" before disappearing for the night. She hovers there in your line of vision, blindingly, kind of like when you're dragged downtown for questioning and the cops shove that light in your face.

And the sun makes you sweat just like being in that small, cinder block room with the one-way mirror does.

My point being, yesterday's run left much to be desired. During the points where we hit shade, it wasn't awful (though, no wonder, my energy level isn't exactly at an all-time high these days). But trudging up that incline toward the 295 bridge was painful. Totally exposed to the pounding sun and the similarly intense reflection off the water - plus the heat from the traffic - it was tiresome.

But Ann and I moved along, determined to get back in line with the training we'd let slide.

We walked a couple of times, which was a bit frustrating since we'd both run all the way around not three weeks ago.

But hey, if you don't maintain, you're going to lose it. It's a learning I've known since the third grade, when I'd worked my way up all year long to a 25-minute tripod - a gym class record. But summer came and the tripod training went by the wayside. The following year imagine my surprise - Suzi Benson usurped my title with a pitiful 15-minute effort. I'd lost my gift.

The key now is to keep motoring and not fall off the training wagon again. I can't bear to relive the Tripod Collapse of 1987.

Recommitting...sort of...kinda...I'm not sure

I got 100 percent of what I deserved on Thursday. I mean, it only makes sense that we'd run all the way to Cheverus High School (I say 'all the way,' though it's barely a mile or so) only to discover the track was gated and locked. So it only makes sense that we'd run all the way back to the Back Cove, and all the way to the soccer fields over by Hannaford.

And it only makes sense that I had to walk portions of it, because I was tired something awful.

I asked John Rogers if he was trying to punish us. Or if he got some disturbed thrill from watching us run from here to there to way over there.

Truth is, it was a workout that my group should have been able to master. You're well aware of my recently lackadaisical approach to training, but I assure you I'm not a solitary member in the "haven't run in weeks" club.

The first 20 minutes of Thursday's run was spent comparing notes on how poorly we'd all been adhering - or not - to the schedule. The overall conclusion: life happens.

Worlds will not crumble if we don't place 20th. Or 200th. Or even in the top 3/4. And as one fellow runner put it, "It's not like anyone's putting money on me to win."

True dat.

Even still, that doesn't mean we should wallow in our waned commitment. Let's mourn the missed runs of weeks past and move on.

There are still three hopeful weeks leading to the race. Records won't be broken in that time, but pride can be rectified. In that vein, I'm opting to add another weekly group run to the the already strenuous training plan (maybe 'strenuous' isn't the right word).

Hannaford has started up their B2B training runs. They're free - and there's food.

Hannaford is again sponsoring free training runs for the TD Banknorth Beach to Beacon 10K on Tuesdays through July 29. Meet at the red Hannaford tent in the Forest Avenue Hannaford parking lot at 5:30 p.m., rain or shine. The final run on July 29 will be led by B2B founder and Olympic gold medalist Joan Benoit Samuelson.

There will be a group warm-up and pacers for beginners, intermediate runners and more experienced runners. Free refreshments will be available. All participants must sign a release waiver, and anyone under 18 must have a parent sign the waiver.

If I run tonight, will you please flip on the A/C?

Most days in a Maine summer are idyllic.

But some feel like you've been locked in the cramped trunk of a Dodge Neon, wrapped in damp fleece and lit on fire.

You and I have had first-hand experience of those heavy sweating days recently. And while I appreciate the opportunity to get a real feel for the temperature in Hell, I'm ready to get back to the way summer should be.

It's a risky time of year for runners, too. I'd always thought that the crazies who run outside in January where the ones to be weary of. But this week I found myself throwing psychotropic drugs at runners on the Back Cove trail (from the cooled comfort of my air-conditioned car, of course).

Let's not ask questions about why I had so many psychotropic drugs at my disposal. Instead, let's work together to help as many of those maniacal runners as possible.

Luckily Mother Nature has turned the furnace down a few clicks and today wasn't nearly as frizz-inducing. But I'll still be feeling some discomfort during tonight's group run.

The discomfort will come in three forms: First, as exhausted panting. Second, as cramped calves. Third, as shame.

I still haven't run - not since my last posting, not since I got back from vacation, not since I ran the Back Cove in its entirety (remember those good times!) three weeks ago.

But nevermind that now. It's time to move on, get back in the saddle, or running shoes or whatever. This time last year I found myself in a similar predicament and I vowed to Kick July's arse [see: 'I'm sorry July, but I'm going to have to kill you']

So I say it again. July, it's time I tied you to a parking meter and slapped you around.

Back to life, back to reality

And back to the running...tomorrow, I promise.

I think we can all agree that vacation recovery time is about 48 hours, give or take. And since I pulled back into Portland around 3:00 am on Sunday, I figure I'm good to coast through today without the pressure of being in any way functional.

But tomorrow, tomorrow. I have to get back on the wagon. Get back on the schedule. Get back on my Mackworth Island trail. The B2B is four weeks away and I don't feel anywhere near prepared. I wonder how much was lost during my time off - and I think I'm afraid to find out.

In my defense, I did go for a run last week back in Illinois. I found a well-groomed neighborhood park with a short bike path near my brother's house. I laced up the ol' Mizunos, gave each leg an honest stretch, checked my watch and started off.

My goal was to run for 40 minutes.

Instead I ran for 15, decided I was too tired to run, grabbed a blanket and book from my car and passed out under a tree.

I'd say, "At least I tried, right?!?" but you're not that gullible.

Nevertheless, I have no more excuses. At least I should avoid using any, since I'm only damning myself.

But the enthusiasm levels are admittedly low. The key is to do it anyway. I remember reading once that too many people expect to get amped on the idea of starting a running/exercise routine. And when that excitement doesn't come flooding, would-be runners/skinny bitches opt to just forget the idea.

The truth is, said article claimed, you need to start the routine first - fight through those initial painful/boring/difficult sessions. The enthusiasm comes after - once you've got some hard work under your belt.

I know, I was there a month ago. And now it seems I need to fight my way there again. So I'm ready to get back to it - preferably sooner rather than later. I see a "Woohoo, I kicked that trail to death" entry in my future.

Feeling IL (and missing ME)

It's been almost two weeks since my last blog, and for that I offer my sincerest apologies. It's hard to get through an hour, a day, a week without an update on some ridiculous girl's running...or not. But if there ever was an excuse, this is it.

See, I've taken myself on a Midwest adventure, stopping in at some friends' houses in Michigan and Indiana, and then to Illinois to get some of that good ol' quality family time.

I drove out late last week (hence missing the Thursday training run) and I'm still here, sitting in a coffee shop cursing the traffic and the endless tarmac that makes up a Chicago suburb. And my big brother - with all his toys and cars and big TVs and whatnot - has no internet at home.

Add to that, I killed my cell phone (well, I didn't, my coffee did. It has a mind of its own, you know, and simply took a nose dive onto my poor communication contraption, drowning it. Murdering it). So I lost my contacts, got lost on the way west, and the MaineToday servers have been on the fritz since Friday so I can't get any work done on the road (I wanted to, I really, really wanted to).

I haven't run in ages it seems, though I did walk around Lake Lansing in MI, and that has to count for something. (Please, please let it count for something!) Instead, I've been binging on Buffalo chicken and a variety of local brews (three cheers for Michigan Brewing Company and Oberon).

I'm altogether stuffed, overtired and cranky (of course, maybe you already got a sense of that). And I think the lack of exercise is only exacerbating the matter.

So I chatted with my old man about heading out for a jog. He's just getting back into the running thing, too, so I'd venture to say we're hovering at the same level of mediocre athleticism. If I can at least get two runs in this week, I won't entirely hate myself.

But I'll be home on Sunday with lots of dirty clothes and a trunk of six packs I've picked up along the way. And I'll have no choice but to hit the ground running - literally. The Beach to Beacon is Aug 2...a month away. Here's hoping this driving adventure hasn't squelched the progress I'd made thus far.

And here's to better luck (which would include NOT getting caught in a traffic jam prompted by a white mare and a donkey standing on the interstate. True story).

I miss you, Portland!