Some people meditate — I run

My editor suggested I write about what I think about when I run. Well, that seemed like it would be easy enough, or so I thought.
As I started to run this morning all I could think about was thinking about thinking about running.
Arrgh!
Finally, after a few minutes I settled into my usual rhythm and started to remember. I start almost every run evaluating my body. How do I feel? Do I have any pains? Am I running with good form? Am I relaxed? Or tired?
I’ve found that focusing on my form and my breathing has always helped my running efficiency. Of course, sometimes I realize I am just plain tired. That’s when I start wondering why I didn’t chose a sport with a built-in rest interval.
After I get through my initial body scan there is no telling what will pop into my head. Many times I’ll finish a run, and I can hardly remember what I had been thinking about because the time flew by. Other times, I am a happy day dreamer.
That’s when I seem to have a silly smile on my face. I once ran past a group of cyclists at Lovers Point and greeted them with a enthusiastic “good morning.” After I passed them, I heard one say, “Now that is one happy runner.”
If I have a race coming up, my easy runs are a perfect time to reflect on my training — going over the course in my head or coming up with a race strategy. Thing is, when I do that I find myself getting excited and picking up the pace. Eager to get on with the race I guess.
It’s hard not feel inspired when running around here. I have always considered

running to be “my time” and usually refer to my Sunday long run as “going to church.”
Despite being from a family of ministers, I wouldn’t consider myself a religious person. In fourth grade, I needed a Bible for an assignment. I didn’t think we had any at home, so I got one from the school library. My mother was mortified and led me to a cabinet with more than 20 Bibles. She then made me promise to tell my teacher we had tons of Bibles.
Although I wouldn’t say I’m religious, I would say I am spiritual. For me, running seems to intensify all my emotions — happy and sad. I confess, there is hardly a running trail I have not cried on at one time or another.
Sometimes it comes out of the blue or other times I leave the house knowing I won’t make it too far without a few tears.
Whether I am worried about a family member or upset about something in my own life, running affords me to time to work through some things. Some people meditate — I run. Even when I am done competing I know I will always be out there plodding along.

What I think about when I run

It’s hard not feel inspired when running around here. I have always considered running to be “my time” and usually refer to my Sunday long run as “going to church.” In Saturday's column, I'll talk more about what I think about when I run — from taking a personal inventory to shedding a few tears. Running can be a great meditation.

Family life

For a lot of pro athletes, their families revolve around them. I don't think I'd like that. Jon, my husband, is out the door most days at 7 a.m. and not back from work until at least 6 p.m. He makes up for the time he misses with Quin on the weekend. As I've mentioned before, the two of them often have their bonding time while I'm out on long runs.

I know the husbands of some runners serve as their coaches or managers. I don't think Jon would be satisfied if that was his only job.

Coaching by instinct

The game plan is in Sev's head.

If you asked my coach, Bob Sevene, to write down our plan for qualifying for the 2012 Olympic marathon, I don't think he could do it. He coaches more by instinct, by what he sees when I run. He has a master plan in his head, but he's not afraid to make adjustments. He might not decide what a workout will be until that day. That tends to work with my personality. Sometimes I tease him that he is making it up on the fly, but I know that's not the case. I like to guess the workouts, and after 11 years I am getting pretty good at it. I know I'm in trouble when he starts writing down a workout — it's because the workout is going to be long.

With less than a year to go before the Olympic marathon trials, we still have some big decisions to make. Do I run in a spring marathon (I think so), do more track races to increase my speed?

In 2000 after the Olympic Trials (I had finished seventh in the 10K), my husband Jon and I did some re-evaluating. We needed someone who could think in four-year increments. Jon, who's from the Boston area, had worked with Sev in different training groups. I called Sev and told him we'd move to Boston to work with him.

It wound up being a little bit embarrassing because I didn't realize he had coached Joan Benoit Samuelson (the winner of the first women's Olympic marathon). Can you imagine?

Fast forward to 2008, and we're planning my pregnancy. We decided to follow the European model and get pregnant as soon I could after the Olympics. The idea was to have Quin and then take a year to get back in shape. When Quin came a month early I thought I was going to be ahead of the plan. Boy, was I wrong. I learned you can't nurse your baby, go short on sleep and hope to train. I just wasn't recovering between training sessions. I don't think I was able to really start training seriously until Quin was eight months old. It was a tough time, but to be successful you have to be able to adjust to everything, from injuries to illnesses. Sev does that, he's there to make the decisions that will get me to the Olympics.

Considering I do every run alone, it 's nice to have him at my track workouts or following me on his bike when I hit the road. Some runners have long-distance relationships with their coaches.

They communicate online or on the telephone. But I think it's better to have the coach watching you run. You may have a workout on paper and you meet all your times, but the coach can't tell if you're struggling to meet those times or meeting them easily.

In a few weeks I'll be running in the national cross country championships in San Diego. The top six finishers qualify for the world championships. We will make some decisions after that.

Where does the time go?

With less than a year to go before the Olympic marathon trials, we still have some big decisions to make. Do I run in a spring marathon (I think so), do more track races to increase my speed? In this week's column (coming in Saturday's Monterey County Herald), I'll be talking about planning for the big event, which will be in Houston. I'll warn you now, there is no leather-bound handbook for this thing. Sev, my coach Bob Sevene, makes a whole lot of adjustments depending on his gut instincts and what he sees as he watches me run. I have a whole lot of trust in Sev, after all, I've been working with him for about 11 years. Oh, and did I mention, he's had some success coaching other runners as well (Joan Benoit Samuelson). In a couple of weeks I'll be running in the national cross country championships. After that it'll be time to make some more decisions.

Quin watch

Like all moms, there are times I can't bear to leaving my baby. You know he might cry a bit, but he will be OK in the end. There's just been one time when I had to leave Quin at home for a race. Most times he travels with us. It can be a bit of a challenge race day because you have to relax and save your energy for the race. So somebody usually winds up on Quin duty. This year, with more races and more road trips it will be more of a test.

Racing, it's more than just running fast

Bob Sevene, my coach, once told me that when he was recruiting college runners it wasn’t the guys with the fastest times he was most interested in, but the ones who were consistent winners.

His thinking was that runners used to winning will always find a way to win again.

They’re the ones with the innate drive that can’t be taught.

There are times I wish racing was just about going out and running fast. But it’s not. A lot of people don’t realize it, but it can be like a car race, where other runners can use you as a pacer, and basically draft you before passing you in the final stages of a race. It can be pretty frustrating. You can be heading toward the finish line and not even know someone is gaining on you.

In the Olympic finals, the distance races often wind up being “sit and kick” races, because no one wants to do the work to set the early pace. Everyone is setting themselves up for a sprint in the end that could result in a medal. After all, the runners people remember the winners, not the ones who finished with great times but out of the medals.

I prefer to run faster, but I realize you can’t aim to run a personal best every time out.

In 2004, I broke away from the field at the Olympic Marathon trials and led much of the way. For a number of reasons, I couldn’t hold on to that lead and wound up finishing fourth, missing the Olympic team. In 2008, I focused not so much on a fast time but on finishing in the top three and getting that spot in the Olympics.

Not leading a race from start to finish is tough on me.

I like to be out in front, having people chase me rather than me chasing them. My high school coach once told me I seemed to like running scared. I went to a small, private high school in North Carolina and won something like 11 of 12 state titles while I was there. The drawback was that at a small school I was never really pushed and did not get a chance to practice tactical racing. Running in college turned out to be a rude awakening. I enrolled at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and had a chance to walk on to the team. That means I wasn’t given a scholarship to run.

Those first couple of years the challenge was making the team and just hanging on for dear life.

Looking back it took years for my body to catch up to my head. In fact, it was not until my senior year that I was finally able to execute my race plan and win. I was racing the 1,500 meters at the ACC championships and was not a favorite to win. With a lap and a half to go, I remember the pace slowed, so I surged around the pack and ran as hard as I could to the finish line for the win. It may have taken me four years to learn how to win again, but I had finally done it.

Post-collegiate running has been the same scenario: Tougher competition and years of training hard and learning to win again. Since taking maternity leave, I have been playing catch-up but am happy to say that things are falling into place, and I am getting that fire again. I will face some tough opponents over this next year leading up to the Olympic Marathon Trials (which are almost exactly just one year away! Jan. 14, 2012, Houston) , but I am looking forward to every race along the way.

Learning to win again

This week's column will be on learning to win, or the adjustments you have to make as an elite runner. I wish racing was just about going out and running fast. But it's not. It's also about strategy and tactics, figuring out how to win.
Not leading a race from start to finish is tough on me. I like to be out in front, having people chase me rather than me chasing them. My high school coach once told me I seemed to like running scared.
Steve Prefontaine loved running from the front as well, but it probably cost him a medal at the Munich Olympics.
For me, post-collegiate running has been tougher competition and years of training hard and learning to win again. Since taking maternity leave, I have been playing catch-up but am happy to say that things are falling into place, and I am getting that fire again. I will face some tough opponents over this next year leading up to the Olympic Marathon Trials, but I am looking forward to every race along the way.
More on this in Saturday's column in the Monterey County Herald.

A run by the shore

One of the things I miss about living in Marina are running the nearby trails that wind through the former Fort Ord. Some of them offer beautiful views of Monterey Bay. Now that Quin is around, my schedule is a little tighter and on my road runs I don't want to spend too much time driving to a starting point. Of course, living in Pacific Grove I can set off from my front door and run along the shoreline. It's a nice run from Lovers Point into Pebble Beach past the Lone Cypress. I don't stick to 17-Mile Drive (traffic can be a bit frightening) but I'll wander up through some of the neighborhoods. There are plenty of expensive, pretty houses to look at, but what I enjoy most is seeing at the natural scenery and the wildlife. There's plenty of pine trees, deer and raccoons once you wander up the hill from the shoreline. I still get out to the trails in Fort Ord. But I usually save those for the weekend when I have more time and Jon and Quin are doing their male bonding.

Blame it on Rio

My husband Jon and I spent New Year’s morning hoofing through Carmel in the Rio Grill Resolution Run. It made for a nice break in my usual training routines. I hadn’t raced since winning the San Jose Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon back in early October, and I was eager to break up the training monotony.

I had never run a race around here, and I’d always wanted to run Scenic Drive. If you’re not acquainted with Carmel beyond the fact that Clint Eastwood was once mayor here, it’s a very beautiful place and Scenic Drive offers some lovely views of Carmel Bay.

I’m a different sort of person, I see these beautiful places, and I wonder what it would be like to run them. I even see a huge hill and want to do a hill workout up it. I must be sick, but I’m a sucker for scenic runs.

I had also never run Mission Trail, which is up the hill from the shore and is also quite beautiful. Poor Jon, he was once an elite runner, but his job has made him more of a weekend warrior these days.

When I asked him if he had enjoyed the views along the Mission Trail as he ran up he told me with a frown that “I was too busy foaming at the mouth.”

Running this race had been my idea, and since it fell on a Saturday it fit my training schedule. My coach eagerly offered to watch Quin, so I was all set. I was the top women’s finisher, but I had some competition along the way. It was nice to have other runners along, pushing me.

Usually, I’m on my own.

The rainy forecast that morning did concern us a little. Before we left the house, Jon suggested that perhaps he should just stay home with Quin. Nice try. We slipped Quin into some rain boots and met my coach at the starting line.

While we were circling Carmel, Quin was entertaining my coach and waiting at the finish line.

The atmosphere was low-key and everyone seemed to be having a good time. It was a little different from the Plymouth fun run we participated in on Thanksgiving. Runners were dressed up as turkeys for that one. The Rio Run was more of a race atmosphere than that.

All in all things turned out pretty well. I was really happy, no pains, no problems.

After the race we went home, showered and ate some breakfast. Just as I sat down on the couch, I saw my neighbor come trotting home. He had also run in the race, but instead of driving to the starting line, he had run the seven or so miles to the start, run the race and then run back home.

Now that’s dedication.

Seduced by the scenery

This week Blake writes about running in Carmel's Rio Grill Resolution Run on New Year's morning. It was her first race since winning the San Jose Rock 'n' Roll half marathon in early October. It was also Blake's first race in the Monterey Bay area. A course with beautiful views along Scenic Drive and up the Mission Trail was too much for her to resist as she talks about in her upcoming column:

"I’m a different sort of person, I see these beautiful places, and I wonder what it would be like to run them. I even see a huge hill and want to do a hill workout up it. I must be sick, but I’m a sucker for scenic runs."

Finish line nightmare

Here's something you never want to happen (thanks to the Mike Wise Show of Virginia for turning me on to this). Hope this works:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBnnCjZAKMc

CSUMB soccer fields

So the 49ers come down to practice at CSU Monterey Bay and its a huge, huge production. I go out there to workout and it's pretty lonely. Actually, Dave the writing coach and long-suffering Niners fan is hoping I don't pickup any of the team's mojo. The soccer fields out there are a very nice place to run. As well as circling the fields to up my mileage, I'll do some different drills, running over soccer balls, high knees, butt kicks, sideways drills, all sorts of stuff. Funny, don't get the bus load of media coming out to watch me like the 49ers did, but Dave says he wants to watch a workout. His life must be very dull.

Why I moved to California

Watching the East Coast get pummeled by the first of many snowstorms this week, made me remember why I moved to California almost eight years ago.

Before coming to the Monterey Bay area, my husband Jon and I had moved from my hometown in North Carolina to Boston to work with Bob Sevene, who still coaches me today.

We moved to Boston in December and I remember calling Jon at work and asking why it was pitch dark at 4 p.m.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he answered sheepishly, “it gets dark earlier here . . . oh, and it will be cold until about April.”

The censors keep me from reporting my reply, but suffice to say that after my rant I slammed the receiver down .

I am not sure how I endured the winter training back then. We used to meet our workout partners at an indoor track in Boston after work. Often we wouldn’t start workouts until 7:30 p.m. and we would warm-up and warm-down on the cold, icy streets of Boston.

It wasn’t the best part of town and it wasn’t uncommon for our cars to get broken into.

Once, my coach and another athlete caught a thief in the act. The athlete ran to get help. When the police arrived, Coach Sev was there waiting calmly, leaning against the car. The burglar was on the ground in a fetal position. Word to the wise: Don’t try to break into a car with my coach around.

In 2004, I was training for the Olympic Marathon Trials and my coach had already moved to Monterey. He convinced me to take a leave of absence from work because I was struggling to get quality workouts in with the cold and ice in February and March. Luckily, I had tons of vacation time saved up, so it worked out great to come train in nice weather the five weeks before the Trials. I was here about a week when I called my husband and said, “Sell the house. I’m not coming home.” Jon then said, “You are serious. . . . Fine, but I am bringing the kegerator!”

A kegerator keeps a beer keg cold and you don’t talk about moving those unless you’re deadly serious.

Jon flew out to see why I wanted to move and said he felt like he was on a junket.

Needless to say, here we are! Gone are the days of diving over snow banks to avoid being hit by a car or setting out on all my runs in the dark. I almost always can run in shorts and a T-shirt in Monterey weather.

Even Christmas Day I managed to get in a quick run before the storm hit.

There were lots of families out walking, and I even ran past of a pack of nine deer walking down a Pacific Grove street.

I never forget how much I love living and training here.