“Just make sure you keep it long enough so I can put it in a ponytail.”
These are the words I spoke to my hairstylists for about 20 years. I played sports, I worked out, I ran. I had to be able to put my hair up in a ponytail, right?
Wrong.
In October, I cut my hair “boy short” for the first time since I was rocking a bowl cut with severe bangs in fourth grade — and I’ve continued to cut it shorter and shorter over the last few months. My new hairstyle has kinda changed my running life.
Yes, I still wear a hat most of the time. But when I don’t, I gotta say, the wind through my hair feels pretty damn good. (Note: If your hair is long enough to put in a ponytail, you must do so, as we’ve already established.) There’s no annoying bouncing or hair sticking to my sweaty neck or, worse, my sweaty back. I never have to worry about forgetting a ponytail holder or having one break. And honestly, after a run, my hat hair doesn’t even look that bad.
Bottom line: I’m digging my new ‘do. — Mags
“Dave, it’s time to get into fightin’ shape.”
Getting stronger!
“OK, let’s do this! But you know that in 10 months, we’re going to be out of shape again.”
“Whatever, who cares.”
Fitness is cyclical, unless you do it for a living. This is what I’ve come to understand and accept over the years. Just like the seasons, we ebb and flow with our fitness goals, our weight, our diets. I believe a lot of this is rooted in deep socio-cultural caveman behavior — or maybe I use that as an excuse to eat more salt and fat in the winter. Again, whatever.
What I’m trying to get at is this: don’t give up just because you are out of shape right now. We’ve all been there.
For now, I’m going to watch “Rocky,” tune up my playlist and make a plan. I’ll see you in the ring at the end of the summer. – Amie
While running is a competition at heart, all runners know the real competition lies internally. That is, you’re always competing against yourself. Besides, once you start trying to compare yourself to other people, you’ll go a little bonkers.
Last week, for the first time since I’ve had children, I ran home from work. Once upon a time, I used to do this about once a week. As I ran that familiar route, I couldn’t help but compare the run to my previous jaunts on the same stretch. But then I got to thinking: Is it even fair to compare myself to … myself?
After all, my life has changed drastically in the past few years. Before, I had all the time in the world to run and train and do whatever the hell I wanted. Now, I literally have to schedule running on my calendar or it doesn’t happen. Plus, there is a big logistical change. I’m the transporter of not one, but two children, and that limits my ability to come and go as I please.
But, it’s still me. The talent pool is still the same. Right? Or is it? I’m not sure, really.
Anyway, I had many self-loathing thoughts on my run home from work when something occurred to me. I’m still not comparing apples to apples. I gotta give myself a break. As the pace of life changes, so does our running pace.
So why am I so worried about it all? Is it my pride? My competitive spirit? I’m not quite sure. I do know two things, though. One: I need to cut myself some slack. Two: I am totally gonna PR again. Eventually. — Aidz
No Tailgating Allowed.
Following too closely, be it on your feet or in the car, can have dangerous consequences. You know when you’re going JUST a little faster than the person in front of you, but not quite fast enough to zip by them? That’s when you gotta put the pedal to the metal for a few seconds to move ahead of the slightly-slower runner so you can both go along your merry way.
Because here’s what happens when you tailgate a runner …
The other night, I was running on a dirt trail through a park. It was a lovely evening, and the runners were out en masse. I could hear someone coming up behind me; his footsteps were very, very close, and I could distinctly hear the jingling of keys in his pocket over my music. He ran behind me like this for about a quarter of a mile. “Hurry up and pass me!” I kept thinking to myself. It sounded like he was going to trip over my Sauconys.
You know that impulse you get when you’re driving and someone is tailgating you? Those thoughts about tapping the breaks so the dumbass crashes into you and then it’s their fault? Yeah, I was having those thoughts. But, you know, since I didn’t really want to have a collision, I eventually veered off to hit up the drinking fountain and he scampered away into the sunset.
Let’s all agree to abide by this rule to avoid road running rage. — Mags
Every superhero has an origin story, and so does every runner. Here, Bad Angel Amie shares hers.
Kids have a lot of energy; some kids have an extraordinary amount. I was that kid, and I’m still that person today. I need an outlet, as much today as I did then — if you know me, you understand.
First race and first ribbon, age 6.
When I was 6, I ran my first race. I’ll never get over the way my heart exploded when the gun went off. I don’t recall the distance; in fact, I don’t think I knew at the time, I just knew that I had to run and run fast. As I approached the finish line, I was in second place, but I just had to catch that boy. And I did.
In junior high and high school, I ran track. I never actually won anything at the meets and only placed if the other schools forfeited. Which happened sometimes because no one wanted to run the mile. I had terrible asthma then, but I went to every practice and finished my events, mostly to impress my mom, who attended all of my meets. I had a huge cheering section, which included some of the greatest friends in my life, who are still supporting me today. Looking back, if I’d spent more time doing intervals instead of teasing my hair, I might have done better. But I digress.
High school track, age 15.
Fast forward 10 years or so, I’m living in Toronto, no family nearby. I have two small children, and I’m a stay-at-home mom. I needed something, anything that would allow me some peace and quiet. Running was the answer, again. I trained for and completed my first 10K, which turned into a half marathon, and then, of course, a full marathon. I joined a running club that was made up of Boston Marathoners. I would furrow my brow and run my ass off every Wednesday night, but I struggled to keep up. It took me another 10 years to qualify for Boston, but who’s counting?
First marathon, Toronto.
When I moved back to Cincinnati, and met my husband Doug, we realized that we’d run together at Fleet Feet (small world). He had just qualified for Boston and told me that I could do it, too, if I trained hard. We began running together, and next thing you know, we are running the Chicago Marathon to qualify. Three hours and 44 minutes later, I’m a Boston qualifier, and he’s about to propose. It was one of the best days of my life. A year later, and six months after having our son, I’m on my way to realizing my dream.
Boston. It’s so hard to put into words how it felt to run this marathon. Everyone there feels it. It’s magical, even spiritual. There is a love and respect poured out to the runners from the start, and you know you are in the presence of greatness. The whole town shuts down; the crowds are tens of people deep. The runners know how to race, and the crowd knows how to cheer. There wasn’t a moment where I felt disheartened, and that’s saying something. Marathons are hard, but this one was pure joy. Nothing can take away these memories; in fact, the events from this year’s race just make me want to run it again. And I’m supposed to be ‘retired’ from full marathons. We’ll see.
Boston Marathon, 2011.
Over the years, I’ve watched so many friends embrace running, and nothing makes me happier. I’ve been doing this for what feels like my entire life, and even though I get tired sometimes (and wonder why I do it), whenever I look back, I realize running is the common theme in all of the good things I’ve done.
When I was 6, running gave me confidence, and when I was 16, it gave me focus. When I was 30, running gave me solace; it also gave me great friends and the courage to realize the monumental goal of a marathon. When I moved back from Toronto, and needed a community, running provided that too. I started the Bad Angel Running Club when some co-workers were training for the Flying Pig Marathon. It continues to grow with the support and enthusiasm of runners across the country (even Canada!).
Now that I’m almost 40, there’s the pride I feel when I see my daughter go for a run, or when I go to my son’s track meets. Would they do these things if I weren’t a runner? Running is something I share with my husband, my best friends, and a community of amazing people. It spills into every aspect of my life. It’s who I am. – Amie
“Got to be Real” by Cheryl Lynn
THROWBACK! This will be the first track on my next race day playlist. Count on it. — Mags
“Odessa” by Caribou
Great song. Not quite sure about the video, though. — Mags
Move on back. You’ll like it there. Promisemeanit.
Walk to the Back.
This is a rant, or maybe just a public service announcement for runners. I mean no disrespect to race walkers, but if you plan to walk in that first mile, please (PLEASE!) move to the back. It’s hard enough to dodge and weave and find that comfortable spot and settle into your pace without having to trip over walkers.
Please, and thank you. –Amie
By now, you’ve all heard of Cyber Monday. You know, the day after Black Friday (i.e., the day after Thanksgiving), where people do more online shopping than any other day of the year. Well, I’ve noticed a similar phenomenon of online activity following marathons, and I have officially named this day “POST-MARATHON MONDAY.”
You see, here in Cincinnati, the Flying Pig Marathon went down last weekend. As I walked around my office Monday morning, I noticed a flurry of computer screens logged on to registration pages for fall marathons. That’s the thing about racing: you always want more — especially when you’re in that mindset immediately following a race when you’re already trying to figure out how much time you can shave off of your next race.
And race sign-ups are only the beginning. The most time-consuming ritual of Post-Marathon Monday is troving results and finish-line photos on a quest to seek out everyone you know who might have run over the weekend. (And, of course, judging them mercilessly.)
Join me, Angels, as we cease any and all productivity after our spring races to celebrate Post-Marathon Monday. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think marathfoto.com may have posted more photos. — Aidz
This weekend, a friend ran her first race–a full marathon. When she told me that this was her plan I was skeptical, because I was drawing from my own experiences, and don’t you need to build up to such an event? Apparently not.
This girl takes life by the horns, so she’s automatically a Bad Angel, but what really impressed me is that she finished her first marathon while nursing a wicked case of ITB syndrome. She’s been going to therapy, getting cortisone shots and doing her strength training in the gym (I’ve seen her). Weeks leading up to the race she hadn’t been able to run more than a few miles without pain. And yet, she showed up at the starting line, ready to run. Something most of us wouldn’t have done.
I fully expected her to walk most of it, and a small part of me worried whether she could finish. When I saw her at mile 16, smiling and running, my heart almost burst. There’s something special about first time marathoners, something that inspires me to no end. She was clearly soaking it all in, enjoying every step. I knew she was in pain, but you couldn’t tell. I ran with her for a little bit, and was emotional for the rest of the day.
She keeps thanking me for helping her. For supporting her, for believing in her. But what she doesn’t realize, is how much she’s helped me, supported me, inspired me. She finished her marathon strong, and proud- and she reminded me of why I love running marathons, but also, watching first time marathoners run them. –Amie
