Rope Climb Progress

Fingertip burpees. Foot wrap techniques. Pull-ups.

I've gotten a lot of training tips and I've been putting in work so I can finally make it up this rope.

I haven't made it up yet.

But I'm making progress. 

And by progress, I mean that instead of remaining firmly on the ground unable to lift myself even an inch or falling immediately into the holly bush, I can now lift myself up long enough to swing wildly out of control for several long seconds while trying to wrap the rope around my feet and push myself up. 

Plus, I've stopped cursing. Me neighbor with the small children appreciates this.

Today I finally got some guidance from my expert, the man that taught me how to throw a football, catch a baseball, and ride a bike.

So, here's what we've learned from this lesson.

I'm NOT carrying extra weight.

I still have no upper body strength.

I need a ladder...and someone to always hold the bottom of the rope steady for me.

And for real, pull-ups from the bottom of the deck are definitely NOT an option...because snakes.

(And also, I never actually learned to throw a football or catch a baseball...because coordination.)

What If We Believed?

I spent some time with my best friend tonight. We often end up in these intense conversations about the world or life or how we view ourselves. (We also engage in some random and ridiculous conversations, but you know balance is important.) Tonight she offered me some insight that was incredibly powerful.

I've spent most of my adult life thinking that when someone compliments you, they're doing so out of some warped social obligation rather than actual sincerity. That's what you do in civilized society, right? Trade niceties?

I don't recall being this way as a child. But somewhere along the way I learned that when someone compliments you, you're supposed to argue and negate any positive feedback. It didn't seem to matter how many times my parents told me I was special or smart or beautiful or strong. (Brilliant, actually. Brilliant is the word my mother most often uses. I'm just saying.)

Still, the world seemed to suggest that I should contradict every bit of praise I'd been given. You don't want to seem arrogant. You don't want to risk thinking you're pretty if no one else does. You don't want to look like you're trying to outshine anyone else.

It has taken me a long time to get to the point where I can simply say thank you rather than arguing with someone when they compliment me. And I'm still not quite there yet.

It took me even longer to realize that this was something I should even be trying to do.

It's not an easy thing, to accept praise. I have been making a sincere effort to do so. That's not to say, though, that I actually believe what they're saying. Or that I even think they believe what they're saying.

But what if people actually did mean what they said? What if, when they tell you you're smart or pretty or talented, they actually meant it?

And here's the insight I was given tonight. Most people actually do mean it.

I think that's true.

I mean, there will always be manipulators and liars.

But I think that most people probably are sincere when they offer you a compliment. I know I am. If I say it, I mean it.

I don't think we start out thinking we aren't supposed to believe the praise, but it seems to happen pretty quickly. Especially as girls, I think we begin to lose this belief in ourselves at a young age.

One of the most powerful things we could do for our world is to help young girls hold on to that ability to believe in themselves and one another. That must be so much easier than trying to relearn it 40 years down the road. By then, far too much damage has been done.

So, let's start there, by helping just one more girl hold on to that ability to accept the praise that is given to her as truth.

Donate to Central Virginia Girls on the Run today.

Thank you to my strong, beautiful, intelligent, loving, selfless, supportive, amazing friend who is my cheerleader and constant source of praise.

How An 8 Year Old Girl Taught Me To Push Past My Limits

I don't have a really strong history of exploring my limits. I've always been pretty aware of them and content with just leaving them right where they were. They are limits. They are there for a reason, right?

But about a year ago, I watched one little 8 year old girl push the hell out of her limits and walk away like a boss.

Like, a for real 8 year old badass girl boss.

She was the youngest and smallest girl on our Girls on the Run team. She was not a fan of running. She liked the games and she was all about socializing. But running, not so much. She would whine the entire time, drag her feet, complain of being too hot, tired, thirsty, bored. She was a struggle and finding ways to motivate her seemed impossible.

As the season goes, we practice running farther and farther, with the goal of building up to a full 5k. Towards the end of the season, we run a practice 5k so the girls can get a sense of what to expect and how to pace themselves at the big Celebration 5k.

So, the day comes for our practice 5k and I know I'm going to be the one hanging at the back of the pack trying to convince this girl to keep going. In my head, I was practicing the motivation techniques I would try. I figured at some point, I would end up just begging.

But people surprise you.

This child ran. And she ran. And she ran some more. There were a few moments where she started to question herself and we could see that she was starting to give up. But she didn't. She kept going. She found her limits and pushed right on through them.

I don't think I've ever actually witnessed a child her age voluntarily push through pain like that.

But she did. And when she crossed that finish line, sweaty and out of breath, the smile on her face was priceless. You could see it in her entire being, that she found a strength that she didn't know she had. It was one of the most magical things I'd ever seen.

So, whenever I start suffering during a race thinking that I could ease up on my pace and avoid the discomfort, I think of that powerful little 8 year old girl. And I keep going.

And because of her example, I get to run with awesome people and collect cool awards like this one...

HumanKind 5k benefitting HumanKind in Lynchburg, VA

(Photo by Felix Lopez)

Plus I get to represent while wearing my Girls on the Run tank. Because if you're gonna rock a tank like that, you better run hard.

I feel honored to have been a small part of helping this girl find her strength. You can be part of it, too. Click here to donate  and you can be part of these awesome stories.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find an ice bath so I can manage to get out of bed tomorrow.

How Two Little Girls Humbled Me At a Celebration 5k

Do you know what happens when you spend a season coaxing 9, 10, and 11 year old girls to run 3 miles? They beast you at the finish line.

No, really. I mean, I call myself a runner. I train regularly. I do hill climbs and speed work. I strength train. I ran the freakin Blue Ridge Marathon. America's Toughest Road Marathon? Yeah. I did that.

But let me tell you about the time two little girls made me question my entire running career.

Ten weeks. Two afternoons a week for ten weeks, we worked through the Girls on the Run curriculum and practiced running. And when it was finally time for our Celebration 5k, I found myself running with two of the girls that had been a little ho hum about the whole running thing. But they showed up and that's half the battle, right?

So, we started off strong. I mean, the first half mile was solid. They were smiling. I was smiling. We were joking. It was fun. We were friends.

At exactly a 1/2 mile in, the smiling stopped, but I'm pretty sure they still liked me as a person.

By then end of mile one, I think our GOTR Coach-GOTR Girl relationship was beginning to waver. But they didn't seem to be actively hostile at that point, so I was still feeling ok about things.

Mile two was pretty quiet. I kept trying to point out the beautiful scenery, the mountains, the horses. They were unimpressed. I'm pretty sure they had stopped acknowledging my actual existence about a 1/2 mile back.

By mile 2.5, one of them decided the race was over. She sat down. Literally, sat down on the side of the course. Ok, Coach. Time to coach.

We only have about 1/2 a mile to go. See that curve in the road? Once we get around that curve, you'll see the finish line and I promise it will be worth it.

It worked.

She got up.

And all three of us began jogging towards the curve in the road, me coaxing the two of them on. We can do this. We've got this. We've got girl power. You're so strong. You're stronger than you realize. Just keep going.

And then we turned the corner. There was the finish line. All of the people. The cheering. In my mind, I pictured the three of us joyfully crossing the finish line, arms raised in triumph, celebrating our accomplishment together.

What actually happened was they took off. I mean, dead sprint for the last 1/4 mile towards the finish line. I couldn't keep up. I tried. I've sprinted to finish lines before, but my 40-something year old sprint has nothing on two 9-year old I just want this to be over sprints.

The finish line pictures tell the story. Two strong, happy girls running powerfully towards the finish while their coach smiles adoringly in the background, just happy they let me tag along for the journey. (There may also be a few pictures that show my sad, desperate attempts to keep up before the resignation set in, but we don't need to search for those.)

So, all that is to say that it is worth your investment. Click here to donate to Girls on the Run and help one more girl learn how powerful she is.

And if you want that powerful experience of being awed and humbled at the same time, sign up to volunteer. Coach, Running Buddy, Race Set Up. Whatever you can do, it will be worth it.

Because It's More Than Running...

Why is Girls on the Run important?

It may not seem like much, training young girls to run a 5k. But it is so much more than running.

It really kind of hit me yesterday. I spent the morning at a picnic celebrating a trail running series I participated in. I don't know how many people were there and I don't know all of them by name. But I am connected to each of them in a special way. We've shared the most amazing experiences over the years. And here is what is truly beautiful about this.

As I watched these women that I'd run these long, hard miles with step up to the podium to accept their age group awards, I was awed by the beauty. The pure, natural, powerful beauty. Women with babies on their hips and medals around their necks. Women in running shorts and women in dresses. Women smiling  and cheering unabashedly for one another. No worries about makeup, wrinkles, or numbers on a scale. No resentful comparisons or ugly jealousies.

You don't get to feel insecure among this group. We won't allow it. In a world where women so often criticize themselves and one another, there is this micro-community where we run the criticism out of you. Because by running you are building a strength and beauty that the world can't touch.

And it's not just the women that are impacted. This group of men that run with us, they are the men we hope our sons grow up to be. They are the men around which we don't feel self-conscious or embarrassed about our appearance. We do not have to apologize for how we look, because they know what true beauty is. They are the men that recognize the value that comes from our strength and intelligence and abilities. They are the men we run with.

So that's the value I see in Girls on the Run. We are training our most vulnerable population to find strength and beauty inside themselves and each other. We are training them for what they should expect from the people they allow into their lives. And that is something they can carry with them as they grow and make this world a stronger, more beautiful place.

Please take a moment to click here and support Girls on the Run so we can help more girls learn these important lessons.

(Photos by Ron Bell)

Fingertip Burpees?

I've been told that in order to climb the rope, I need to improve my grip strength. I was further told that in order to improve my grip strength, I need to do burpees on my fingertips. No, really. Someone actually said these words to me. Like, fingertip burpees are a real thing.

I'm not sure how I've managed to collect such a sadistic group of  friends, but I was told I could start with planks on my fingertips and then progress to the fingertip burpees. Because planks on your fingertips are less painful?

No. I did 1.3 seconds last night and I wimpered the entire time. I managed 2.2 today without tears. If I keep practicing, I'll be at a full minute by the end of the month. Wait. No. Math. Two months? Whatever. It just better help me get up that rope.

Even the foster cat thinks I'm ridiculous.

I hate these. Therefore I must do them.

DONATE TO GIRLS ON THE RUN

It's the real reason I'm doing all of this.

An Easy Six Miles

"I could never do that." "I wish I could do that." "I can't believe you did that." 

If you're a runner, you've heard these phrases. Maybe you try to convince them that they CAN do it. It's hard, though, to convince people that they can. I think a lot of non-runners assume that runners were just born this way. The truth is, most of us didn't start running until well into adulthood.

I was born into a running family, sure. Both of my parents were avid runners. Most of my early memories involve sitting on a blanket at some race watching my parents cross a finish line and celebrate with friends. But I never felt a real inclination to try running until after my second child. (Kids breed a lot of stress and anxiety and I'd heard that running could help that.I believe my running is how my children survived their teen years.)

I remember the first time I decided to actually give it a go. I laced up my new running shoes, told the guy I was dating at the time that I was going out for a run, and then bounced happily out the door. 

I might have made it around the block. It took me at least 10 minutes to do that and I thought I was going to die. I literally thought my heart was just going to stop in protest. 
When I stumbled back through the front door a quick 10 minutes after I'd gone, my boyfriend said, "I thought you were going for a run." I should add that he said this while reclining on the couch with a beer and a bag of chips. 

Here's my point. That's where I was when I made the decision to become a runner. It was not a great place to be and certainly didn't feel very promising. I never thought I'd say "easy" and "6 miles" in the same sentence. But I committed to it anyway. And I never looked back. Two months ago, I ran my first marathon. Last Sunday, I ran a 25k trail run for the fourth time. Last night, I signed up for a 30 mile ultra (I'm waitlisted, but still committed if someone drops).

Running may not be for everyone. But if you've ever thought about it, try it. Just go ahead and do it and keep doing it until it makes you happy. And confident. And strong. 

Because it will make you happy. 

I mean, first it tries to kill you, but then eventually it makes you totally happy.

But with Girls on the Run, elementary and middle school girls can learn the love and power of running at a young age. And you can help.

Click Here to support Girls on the Run of Central Virginia and help girls find their strong.

Rope Climb. My Nemesis

I dislike burpees. Like, intensely dislike. You know how you can be enjoying your favorite, most delicious meal, contemplating how perfect your life is and then for no clear reason you bite down on your tongue with enough force to crush through a human bone? It makes you want to punch someone in the face. And it's not just the pain. It's the fact that you've been chewing food your whole life. How can you not have this down yet? After 42 years of practice, why is your tongue still getting in the way???

So, burpees are worse than that. And Spartans are littered with them. You have to do 30 of them for every obstacle you fail to complete. 30. How is that a reasonable number? I mean, if I can't climb up a rope, how can I be expected to rock out 30 burpees in a row? During my last Spartan, I had to do 120 of them. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY. BURPEES. I will not do that many during my next Spartan. I refuse.

So, I'm tackling one obstacle at a time.

Rope Climb.

Bring it.

....if you need me, I'm over here practicing my burpees...


Click Here to support Girls on the Run of Central Virginia and help girls find their strong.

Spartan Trifecta Weekend and Girls on the Run

Here's the deal. Last year my son and I took on a Spartan Sprint. It was phenomenal. BUT, the boy had to carry me through several obstacles. (Like, literally carry me...up over his head...so I could make it through the monkey bars.)

So, when I suggested that this year we race a Spartan Trifecta weekend, he readily agreed...on one condition. "Mom, you've GOT to get stronger. Please don't make me carry you through three races in one weekend."

Fair enough. I'll train hard and show him just how strong his momma can be.

But then I figured, why not blog about my process and try to raise money for an awesome cause at the same time? Enter Girls on the Run. Last year, I had the amazing opportunity to help coach a team of elementary school girls through the Central Virginia Girls on the Run program. It was a powerful experience, watching these girls grow in their strength, character, and confidence in a matter of weeks.

And that's why we're here. Over the next few months, I will share how well (or not so well) my training is going and I will occasionally remind you about my goal to raise $500 for Girls on the Run of Central Virginia.

Hopefully you'll watch me get stronger and successfully take on a Spartan Beast, Super, and Sprint in August. Orrrr, you'll watch me have some fun and then bribe my son to carry me through three Spartan races in one weekend.

Incidentally, I happen to be eating an ice cream drumstick as I write this.

Training starts tomorrow.