Alone In A Crowd

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I've decided that I have chosen to pursue a very lonely sport.

Maybe I just came to that conclusion as a result of being in a bit of a funk, but it's something I've been thinking about since I participated in The Color Run last Sunday.

Honestly, I don't mind running alone when I'm....well....running alone! Getting up early in the morning and running before everyone else is awake and the day is still fresh and new is something I enjoy very much. It's my time; a time where it's just me and the road and my thoughts and by the time I get back home I am invigorated and awake and set to take on the day.

Events are a different matter.

Most of the events I've entered into are Fun Runs, although The Run Melbourne I did earlier in the year was a little more serious. Fun Runs are normally done as a group and they're supposed to be...well...fun! You and your friends get together and run, take selfies, engage in some friendly competition and generally encourage each other to keep going to the end. Trouble is, I don't have a running partner, or a friend I run with so I normally enter into these Fun Runs as a solo participant, get there, run, go home. The end.

Standing on my own in a field of over 20,000 other Color Run participants last Sunday was a pretty lonely feeling, I must admit. It made me wonder why on earth I do this....

But I love it. I love to run. It's as pure and simple as that. I've chosen to do something that people I love are unable to join me in....and I've chosen to do something that I have to participate in on my own level, not trying to keep up with others, which means that I slow people down if I'm running with people who want to make a good time.

I'm getting faster. After three years I have finally started to run under 8min/km. Today I really pushed and ran my fastest yet - 7.31min/km over a 2km distance. Something has finally clicked. I don't know what...but whatever it is, it's making me faster. I'm going to keep practicing these short "sprints" until I can try pushing harder over longer distances. I think the frustration of trying to get around walkers at The Color Run on Sunday might've done it because when I got a break I ran like the clappers to make up some time!

Why I made it all about the time during a Fun Run I'll never know. I just wanted to get out of there to be honest.

I was a little emotional when I got home. It was good to be not so alone anymore. I've asked for some company when I register for the next Run for the Kids.

I've set myself some running goals. These goals have been on my mind for a year now but for some reason I have baulked at achieving them. Over the past week one of my fitness idols (who is also short statured) achieved a pretty amazing feat, inspiring me to push further, train harder and showing me that it is actually possible.

Watch this space.

Mind games of the mouse while the cat's away.

Ok...ok...so these are possibly hamsters! Drunk hamsters! Tee hee!

My personal trainer, Kara has swanned off to China for....ten days?

Lucky Kara! :)

Now, you would think that while the cat is away this little mouse is going to play. I mean, despite the fact that we have a month's program written up, who is here to actually check that I'll follow it? Oh folks, this thought has flitted through my mind on more than one occasion! Yes it has! Who would know if I followed the program or not? I could just say that I got up and ran a 10km or worked on my abs, or my core, or went to the pool!

No one would know!

Except me.

And that's the thing. I hold myself accountable. No one gets the guilts more than me if I don't actually do something I'm committed to. If there's a 10k on the scedule, regardless of the fact that my mind might protest and say, "Shhh! Only do 8k. No one will know. Eight kilometres is still a decent run!" I push on and do it anyway and at the end of the 10km I feel as though I have achieved something.

So I'm working on my arms and my abs and my legs. Oh my goodness! Death Jumps! I hate Death Jumps, but please give me more! Last week I ran a total of 23km and swam 2km - all in the program.

On Saturday, Kara has slotted in a 17km run.

S-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n k-i-l-o-m-e-t-r-e-s.

I can't even pretend I'm not intimidated. I keep looking at that distance and feeling chills. Truth be told, I'm scared. I haven't done anything further than 15km since April. Actually, the fartherest distance I've done since then is 12km. Kara thinks I'm ready.

I realised this morning that I am letting my own mind defeat me. I've already decided that it's too far and too hard and if I keep on with this attitude then the distance will be too hard and I will fail.

Seventeen kilometres is only two kilometres further than fifteen - and I've done fifteen. I can do fifteen...so I can push on and do seventeen. I can think of the elation I will feel when it is done. That will spur me on. I plan to run the entire way, but there's also the option of doing it in intervals after 15km - say, 5min walking/10 min running. It's achievable.

These are the mind games of the mouse while the cat's away.

Spurred on!

Ok, I have to admit that since taking on this whole running thing I've doubted myself at times.

Before I ran the 15k Run for the Kids I was scared...and I had to argue with myself to actually do it. Part of me was saying, "You don't have to run you know. You've paid your entry fee. That's all they need. It can be your contribution to the Good Friday Appeal. You don't actually have to show up."

But I showed up, ran it and survived it. And I'm so glad I did.

Now Kara and I are in training for a half marathon. That's 21.1km in case you're wondering. That distance seems.....daunting.

After that we'll head into training for a marathon. That's 42.19km.

Just looking at that number seems enormous....but I have to remember that once upon a time a full lap around the reserve across the road from my house seemed enormous too.

I don't know if I'll be the first woman with dwarfism in Australia to run a marathon. I'm interested to find out. I do know however that there have been other people with dwarfism who have ran in and completed marathons.

Over the past 24 hours though I have gained inspiration from three athletes who all ran the Boston Marathon. These three athletes have different forms of dwarfism. I was particularly interested in the running career of Juli Windsor who became the first woman with dwarfism to complete the famous Boston Marathon.

Image credit

You can read about Juli's story in this article in The Marietta Daily Journal.

As soon as I saw Juli's photo and read about her run I thought, "Right! That's it! I can do it!"

(My kids know I mean serious business when they hear, "Right! That's it!")

Danh Trang and John Young also competed in this years Boston Marathon. Unfortunately John had to pull out in the middle of the race due to illness (unrelated to his stature) however I am sure he would have completed it otherwise.

Wow. Just wow I tell you! I know I can now. Not even my age is going to stop me. I've got a good 15 - 20 years on these guys too. Bring it on.

Ain't nothin' gonna stop us!

Run for the Kids 2014

In High School if anyone told me that as an adult I would actually love running I would have laughed in their face.

In High School I actively avoided the Cross Country. I think I went in it once, maybe twice - once in Year 7 then again in Year 8. I don't know how I got out of it in the other years. 

I used to dread, dread, dread compulsory Physical Education classes in Years 7-10. Those first few weeks of the year were always spent on fitness tests and for those first few weeks my muscles would be screaming out in agony after enduring shuttle runs and burpees and jumping jacks and all those other kinds of exercises that made a very unfit teenager very self-conscious. Doing those running laps around the perimeter of the school was, for me, torture. 

I guess it was more about my lack of self-esteem and a negative body image than anything. Oh to go back and tell that young girl a thing or two!

Yesterday I lined up with over 35,160 other Melburnians who participated in the annual Run for the Kids Fun Run. (surely they use the word "fun" very loosely!) I couldn't help but smile at the irony. Me, who used to avoid running like the plague, lining up to run 15km. Who'd have thunk it?

Run for the Kids is a charity close to my heart. Over the past 28 years my family and I have gotten to know the Royal Children's Hospital intimately. We've been through Genetics, Bone Dysplasia, Orthotics, Orthopaedics, X-ray, MRI, Clinical Photography, Neurology, Neurosurgery, Scoliosis, Spinal Clinics, ENT Specialists, Physiotherapy, Social Work, Emergency and Intensive Care. We've waited in waiting rooms, paced the corridors, played in the Starlight Room, slept by bedsides, lost the plot in Emergency, cried with other parents. We've met the most incredible people. We're on first name basis with many doctors who have watched us grow up and then watched our children grow up. We've educated them about our conditions as much as they have been there to take care of us. 

The champions are the nurses who have been there for us day and night when we have been admitted to any ward. They are the frontline warriors who become your friend, your comfort when everything is unfamiliar and sometimes scary. They sit and talk to a child when they're feeling sad or afraid or sore. They explain things in words children can understand. They make a cup of tea for anxious parents. They help keep us sane. 

To give back to such a wonderful place of caring and healing just goes without saying for me. I was grateful this year to have a friend running too. 

Pre-race selfies are a prerequisite! Kara (my trainer) and me!

Kara and I had been training for the 15km course for months. In spite of this, it was rough. My whole aim was to finish it and finish well. I didn't care about my time. It was all about getting it done. 

The memories of our 28 years with the Royal Children's Hospital were what kept me going - through the Domain Tunnel, over the Bolte Bridge and then back into the city via Docklands, Harbour Esplanade, Collins St, Spencer St, Southbank, through the Alexandra Gardens and then back on to St Kilda Road to the finish line. For a short while I ran with a staff member from the RCH. She was as tall as I am short. She said I looked familiar and I told her that all of my four children had been inpatients and outpatients at the Children's. I told her that she looked familiar too. She said she worked in Radiology and MRI, so undoubtedly we have crossed paths more than once. We've spent a lot of time there. It was good to run with someone for a while. We kind of kept pace with each other up that excruciating hill that is the Bolte Bridge. 

To say I was hurting when I crossed the finish line would be an understatement. 

Photo courtesy of Kara.

But I did it. I finished it. And, unlike my results in PE at school.....I didn't come last. I don't care that it took me over two hours to do it. Once upon a time I didn't think I'd be able to walk 15km let alone run it! I'm in awe of Craig Mottram - former Olympian and World Championship medallist - who completed the 15k in 44 minutes. Who does that? I can't even......what? 

Next year I'll do it again. Next year it will be all about getting a better time. This year I wanted to see if I could do it. I think I've answered that question.

Thanks to the four most incredible human beings on this planet who continue to be my source of strength every day. Sarah, Chloe, Tim and Georgia - you are my reason. You kept me going when every muscle screamed at me to stop. I would run to the ends of the earth for you.

And thanks to Kara, an awesome friend who generously trains me probono, who believes I can and sometimes pushes me harder than she'd push someone else because she knows there's strength down there that I'm not even aware of. I'm so grateful for that. 

Tell me when it's over

You know what I love most about exercise?

The moment it stops.

Oh...and the several hours following.

It's not always easy to slip on the running shoes, or pack my bag to head off to the pool. As a matter of fact when that alarm goes off at 5:45am four mornings a week I must hit the Snooze button three times on average. Bed is too warm and comfy and after getting up to the dog twice a night on average I really don't feel like getting up early.

But I do. And when I hit the road I'm still thinking, "Why the hell am I doing this?" But I keep going.

This morning I got that feeling when I faced the pool. I did not want to get in and do lap after lap. They keep the pool at a cooler temperature now. It's not too comfortable getting in.

This morning I did 20 laps of the 50m pool. It's boring. It's exhausting. I think I like running better because I can put on some tunes and zone out or concentrate on my technique or file away thoughts and ideas as I cover the k's. But swimming? Lap after lap of boring.

But that feeling after it's done? That's what makes it all worth it. That feeling of all your muscles having worked hard. The adrenaline is pumping, my head is clear. I feel pumped and ready for action. I get home and fix myself some breakfast and it tastes like the most delicious food on the planet. I feel so good after I've eaten.

My mood is lifted and there's a feeling of goodwill towards everyone. Plans are made with the rest of the family and they see me go off to work happy. It's easier to give out to them because I feel energised.

And that's why getting up early and pushing through the barrier of I don't wanna! is worth it. I feel alive.