One of the things I have been proud of in the ten and a half months since my son Sam was born has been my ability to focus on him and what he is doing in the moment. I'm not sure why this has been so easy -- I generally am infinitely distractible. Maybe it's because -- given my struggles with infertility -- Sam is likely the only chance I'll have to parent a baby, so I want to fully engage in and remember these days. More likely it's an evolutionary advantage to have a mother who's highly attentive to the baby's needs and actions. In any case, I have found it relatively easy to spend hours playing with him, singing to him, reading to him, and acting as a human jungle gym for my adventurous boy. I can't help but watch carefully and admire his intense concentration as he explores the world around him, and his joy at finding his favorite toy or being surprised by a funny face. (His rage can also be impressive!) It feels decadent and I sometimes feel guilty over my neglected emails, the pile of laundry on the table, and the dishes in the sink.

Sam also lives in the present.

A few weeks ago, we borrowed a book called Baby Present by Rachel Neumann -- inspired by the work of Zen teacher Thich Nhat Hanh -- from the Seattle Public Library, which I love to read as much for me as for Sam. It features lots of cute and cuddly babies (I'm told babies are fascinated looking at pictures of other babies) and the entirety of the text reads:

"Breathe in, baby. Breathe out.
You are perfect just as you are.
Sitting in the here and now.
The past is gone. It was pretty short to begin with.
The future is tricky and a long way off.
Right now is just right.
There is nothing you have to do.
There is nowhere you have to go.
Feel your belly rise and fall.
Present moment. Wonderful moment."

Each time I read it to Sam, I am reminded that babyhood (heck, life!) is short, and that I'm in the right place, dishes be damned. I especially like the lines about the past and the future. I am reminded to focus on the present moment/wonderful moment of now, and not anticipate the grief I will have when my baby is too grown up to delight in climbing back and forth over my body. I am reminded that this action -- making Sam laugh, or rocking him as his body curls into mine and eyelids flutter -- is both what I am doing, and all I want to do.


 

What a difference a year makes, no? Last year at this time I was on the difficult infertility journey, this year I'm chasing around after this little guy (pretty easy for now since he's not mobile yet):

Ladies go crazy for a sharp dressed man.

While I loved the flowers and the cards I received yesterday, let's just say that for Mother's Day and me, it's complicated. Certainly I love being able to celebrate my own wonderful mother on a day solely dedicated to the exercise (this year with a hastily assembled brunch after an early morning flight). But at the same time I remember all too clearly the pain the day caused me in recent years. To every person who gave me a cheery "Happy Mother's Day!" in the airport yesterday morning because I was carrying Sam, I wanted to explain what a miracle it was that he is even here. And how this isn't my first Mother's Day, as I have parented my 10 year-old stepson for many years now. Furthermore (if I were really to bend an ear, and the flight were delayed), I might possibly explain how I wish "mother" were defined more broadly on this day to include mothering spirits of all sorts, and how I recognize the complexities of the maternal relationship for many people. Overwhelmingly, though, for Mother's Day I wish people knew how, for me -- most days -- it feels like a such privilege to influence the next generation in such an intimate fashion.

I read this description of (narrowly defined) motherhood the other day from Caitlin Moran's Moranifesto; it resonated with where I am right now, made me laugh, and seemed as good a definition as any:

"As an exercise, I'm just going to run through, once again, what becoming a mother consists of. First of all, you casually make an extra internal organ -- the placenta. Like you're some goddamn intergalactic robot UPGRADING ITSELF.

Then you spend the next nine months being a LIVING, WALKING FLESH NEST: casually absorbing your fetus's endless excreta while you're busy running an international business -- something which, in later years, you will find the perfect metaphor for raising a teenager. Then, at the point where you've grown a skull and a brain big enough to make humans the dominant species on earth -- but still just small enough to emerge from your pelvis without blowing both your legs off -- a homunculus will effortfully punch its way out of your 'special flower'.

Here -- at the point where, in a comparable exercise, a man who'd just passed a microscopic kidney stone would be wheeled onto a ward, dosed with morphine, treated like a brave hero, then left the hell alone -- you magically turn your tits into a milky heaven buffet, and start cranking out fifteen meals a day into a tiny, screaming, ungrateful creature who resembles an enraged otter in a jumpsuit.

Just to, again, get this into perspective -- when the most magic man who ever lived, Jesus, turned water into wine once, for one party, people went on about it for two thousand years, and formed a major man-religion around it.

Meanwhile, for millions of breast-feeding mothers every day, turning their bodies into lunch, the reaction is, 'Bitch, please -- don't do that in Claridge's.'

And then, of course, after the first year, the really difficult bit starts. The fevers and the ghosts and the sleeps that won't come -- the terrible falls, and the bullies, and the boy who breaks their heart, and the hair that makes them sad. And you have to teach them what jokes are, and what death is, and how to charm -- all while putting three meals a day on the table, and money in the electricity meter, and joy between every wall in the house, and never, never, ever forgetting to try and love every minute, because suddenly, ten minutes after they were born, they slam the front door for the last time, and you are sitting there, going, 'Where did the baby go? Where is my baby?'"

As I prepared to give birth to my son a few months ago, I took for granted that I would breastfeed him. "At least six months," I confidently told my husband, "and up to a year if possible" -- reciting the recommendations of the American Association of Pediatrics. It never occurred to me that this might not happen; I had read all about the evidence for the benefits of breastfeeding, and wanted badly to give my son that gift.

Once I gave birth, however, various factors conspired against this noble ideal for me. I delivered my son via Ceasarean. He had a small tongue tie that went unnoticed for the first week of his life. Possibly because of the tongue tie, he was also an aggressively "chompy" eater, resulting in excruciating pain to me every time he would eat. Nonetheless, I persisted, and faithfully nursed him every 2-3 hours. He cried all the time, and I became worried when he stopped peeing; at the doctor's I was informed that he had become dehydrated in a few short days since birth because my milk supply was low, and we needed to give him formula supplements. The next few weeks were filled with an intricate dance of breastfeeding, pumping, and formula supplements. I scoured the internet for information on boosting milk supply (lactation cookie, anyone?) and followed the accepted regimen for weaning a breastfed baby from supplemental formula.

But despite my best efforts and all the power of my will, still he cried and was hungry all. The. Time. Finally, we sadly made the decision that breastfeeding was not feasible for our situation. He is now a primarily formula fed baby with some breastmilk supplementation (probably 65/35%, respectively, with effort), and is thriving far more under this regimen than ever before.

Without a doubt, I can say that feeding was the central drama of the first five weeks of my parenting experience. When I found out my son was dehydrated, I felt despondent that my body was not providing for him. I knew (and know) that exclusively breastfeeding is the best nutrition for an infant. But I felt unprepared by the medical community for what to do when exclusively breastfeeding was no longer a possibility. While I appreciate the respect shown by our medical professionals toward my wish to exclusively breastfeed, I now wish that someone would have oriented me sooner to other feeding options, and emphasized *that those were OK*. I wish that those other options did not carry such a stigma (honestly, you'd think I were feeding my baby poison instead of life-giving nutrients when I put a bottle in his mouth).

As my wise and empathetic OB told me at my post-partum appointment, "FED is best". Parents will have all sorts of reasons that breastfeeding may not work for them, medical or otherwise. Stigmatizing non-breastfeeding options or restricting the conversation to breastfeeding only does a disservice to parents, all of whom strive for the same thing: choosing safe feeding options for their babies.  

Well, it's already April, and I'm only just getting around to posting my New Year's goals. They have been written since, well, New Year's, but it turns out that there are more pressing things to do during late pregnancy and early parenthood! Here they are now; as an added bonus I can check in on my progress so far (while this might not count as a "prespecified analysis" in my line of work, the stakes are low enough here that I can do it!). 

1. Have a successful delivery of our son. My son Sam was born on January 31st after an exciting entrance into the world. I was induced a few days early after feeling decreased fetal movement, and when doctors recommended a Ceasarean following signs of fetal distress, they found his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck FOUR times. Needless to say, I feel grateful every day that this goal was met and that I have this precious boy in my life intact.

2. Keep a sense of humor in parenting. Being in charge of another human's development and survival is stressful. Being able to laugh about it seems key. I've done lots of laughing so far, and hope to maintain this in the face of mounting and conflicting obligations, which brings me to...

3. Try for work/life balance. It's been easy so far, since I'm on leave from work for another three and a half weeks. Beyond that I have no idea. Is there such a thing? I'm always up for advice from those who have come before.

4. Get back to fitness/stay active even with a baby. It will be a long road back to pre-pregnancy weight and fitness. In the meantime a more manageable goal is to stay active each week: my usual goal is to walk/run at least 15 miles. I've just been cleared to run again, so I'm gradually trying to incorporate that again into my routine. But I also want to...

5. Be kind to myself. Having a baby is hard. Having a baby, a family, a career, AND an exercise regimen feels just about insurmountable at times. So I'm trying to give myself grace about the things I can do with the energy I have.

6. Have less idle screen time. In recent months I've been realizing how much time I spend mindlessly on social media. While it is fun to stay in touch with old friends online and meet new virtual friends, I worry that I engage less with the real world as a result. My hope is that the 'new normal' will prohibit much of this. (Thus far this has not been the case; often when e.g. pumping I'm so tired that all I can muster energy for is social media.) I'd love to hear other strategies for managing social media both in terms of time and emotional energy.   

7. Double down on my core values: love, family, community, hard work, and decency. In a time and political environment where these seem in short supply, I want to bring it back to my core values. To remember who I am, outside of the outrage I feel most days reading the headlines.

Time to check in: how are you doing on your New Year's goals? 

Born Jan. 31, 6lbs 15oz, 20 inches long. Photo credit: Bella Baby Photography.

He's here! It has been two and a half weeks since my world changed, and I'm only now with it enough to reflect a little on what happened and how our lives have changed as a result. Here's my rough recollection of how it went down (my husband Greg's take on things can be found here):

For a variety of reasons, including borderline high blood pressure, my OB had decided in advance to induce my labor at 39 1/2 weeks. Two days before my scheduled induction, I went in for a routine appointment and fetal monitoring. Although every metric on the machines looked fine, something felt... off. Sam wasn't moving as much as usual, as much as he had even the previous day. A hot chocolate and almond croissant from Bakery Nouveau didn't change things, and neither did a quiet afternoon paying attention to his movements. When we spoke to our OB on the phone that evening, she recommended we come in for induction that night -- acknowledging that the decision was at least partly driven by our (non-evidence-based) anxiety. We got the call at 6:15 and were to report to the hospital by 8:00 -- oh, and hadn't eaten, packed, showered, or picked up my stepson from his after school care. After a whirlwind couple of hours, we arrived (barely) on time, ready to do this thing.

Once we got settled in to our birthing suite, things were much calmer. We delivered my stepson to his mother. We organized our belongings, having been told that induction can take days. My cervix was checked, and I was hooked up to a fetal monitor and given a couple of doses of misoprostol, a cervical ripening agent. I was checked periodically throughout the night as I began to have period-like cramps, but they were easy enough to sleep through, for the most part.

In the AM, they started me on Pitocin, which by noon had ramped up the contractions to fairly uncomfortable. I ate lunch and walked around the nurses station a bit. Greg went for a run, and by the time he got back I had quickly devolved into a bad place, vomiting and shaking with the contractions. Our doula was invaluable, suggesting positions and coaching me though the contractions that seemed to be coming fast with little opportunity for rest. After some time I labored in the bath, where my water broke, I continued vomiting, and ultimately managed to mutter the word "epidural". What felt like five minutes later the anesthesia team was there, providing blessed relief (I had gone into labor wanting the "opportunity" to labor unmedicated -- and as it turns out 5 hours of that is plenty for me). I was able to sleep for a couple of hours, which felt like heaven.

Around 7:15PM, the OB team came in and told us they were observing signs of fetal distress that they didn't like to see. They gave us a metaphor we could relate to: "Your baby is running a marathon at a 100m pace." They gave me 15 minutes of low-fi interventions to change things: an oxygen mask for me, extra saline in the IV, turning me on my side. When these didn't change the fetal monitoring metrics, they made the call: a C-section.

I was a little teary at the prospect of surgery and the change of plan from what we had anticipated, but also intensely focused on doing what was best for our son. The decision was made around 7:30PM; after a flurry of activity on many fronts, Samuel John was born via C-section at 8:15PM weighing 6lbs 15oz and measuring 20 inches long. Everyone in the operating room expressed great surprise when they found that the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck four(!) times -- the purported cause of the fetal distress. The neonatal team toweled him off and checked him over, then he was brought to me to nuzzle while the surgical team sewed me up. He came out hungry and tried to feed on my chin and cheek, to no avail.

The ensuing two and a half weeks have contained lifetimes for Greg and me. New parenting is hard, recovery from abdominal surgery is hard, breastfeeding is hard. There have been (blessedly few) moments of near despair. Overwhelming all the sleep deprivation and bewilderment, though, I have a fierce love and desire to protect this little peanut, come what may, and to fix these fleeting moments in my mind.

Tiny feet.

As usual, the evening of December 31 has got me thinking about goals. Goals for the new year, goals from last year. I've been AWOL from the blog for many months, but there's always time for an eleventh hour check in, right?

Last year I decided to make a public goals list, hoping for some accountability. Here's how I did:

1. Run consistently, including one speed session per week

I did this! Well, for a small part of the year (January, March, and April) -- and those were really great. I felt fast (for me) and fit. I had to take time off from running the remainder of the year because of injury, medical procedures, and pregnancy. Once the first trimester was behind me, and I could peel myself off the couch, I had another month or so of running without speedwork before things were too uncomfortable and I started walking my mileage instead.

But I remember how good running, and speed, feels! I'm excited for 2017 for lots of reasons, and one of them is getting back to that feeling. Here's to mama fitness in 2017!

2. Strength training two times per week

This was the goal that ended up most like traditional resolutions for me in 2016. I had about 6-ish weeks of good behavior on this one (Oiselle dirty dozen, among others), then fell off the wagon. I'm hoping to incorporate this again into my fitness routine as I get back to running post-partum.

3. Save for a down payment on a house

This one was a home run! I have to admit I unironically *love* saving. We are almost there, although we've decided to wait on the actual purchasing of a house. My husband is going back to school and we can make our current situation work for a while even with a new baby, but the nest egg is there waiting for us (incubating?) when we need it.

4. Be vulnerable and Wholehearted

This is a hard one to assess (no milestones, ya know?), but I think I've done a good job here, too. There have certainly been lots of tears (both before and after getting pregnant), and I've tried hard to dig deep into my values: love, family, hard work, decency. I know lots of people are fearful and cynical about what might occur in 2017; I'm going to double down on these values and try to live them louder than ever before.

5. Blog at least 1-2 times per month

This post brings the grand total to 7 for the year, so... not great. Not sure it will be more frequent with a new baby, either. Oh, well... the blog is still here for when I need a (very small scale) platform, I suppose.

Taking stock of the past year inevitably leads to thinking about goals for the new year... coming soon!

I do (kidney) research for a living, so when I found out I was pregnant, I was excited to experience clinical research from the other side. A few weeks ago baby Z and I participated in a cool study currently being conducted at the University of Washington that was seeking pregnant volunteers to build a high resolution fetal brain MRI database.

When fetal brain abnormalities are detected via ultrasound during a pregnancy, an MRI could provide additional useful information to women and providers. However, since you can't instruct the little nugget to stay still for an hour, up until now 3-D imaging has been of limited use. But researchers at the University of Washington have developed technology that is both high resolution and that can capture images even when the baby is moving (I'm imagining something like video stabilizing technology, but who knows?). This project aims to build a database of different baby brains throughout pregnancy for comparison. 

A few weeks ago, in my 19th week of pregnancy, I spent about an hour in an MRI at the UW Roosevelt clinic. I changed into scrubs, got rid of my jewelry (no metal allowed except rings), and was fed into the machine. It was rather close, although I was only enclosed up to my mid-torso. I was also provided earplugs and earphones with which to listen to my choice of Pandora stations (Gillian Welch). There was a rather loud clanking noise from the machine the majority of the time, but honestly my life is so hectic I welcomed the opportunity to lie there doing nothing for an hour, and I almost fell asleep. 

For me, the best part was after the MRI (and getting the $50 Amazon gift card!), when the radiology technician showed me some of the images and even a video (I also received a CD with images/video a couple of weeks later). I was astounded to see my favorite little alien moving around in there -- it looked like he was having quite the dance party! It put a huge smile on my face the rest of the day to have a mental image of what was going on down below every time my stomach turns and tickles. Here is the video -- taken over about 90 seconds but speeded up slightly below. I figure that, with those moves, he'll either be a runner or a dancer, or maybe both!

If you are interested in participating in this study, you can find more information here. Women must be between 18 and 36 weeks pregnant and between 18 and 45 years old to enroll. You can participate in the study up to three times, and there is an optional "phase II" to the project when your child is 19-21 months.

Update: we did the study again at 24 weeks! Here's our little guy, much more developed but much less active on this particular day:

Yesterday I celebrated my 38th birthday. As is my tradition, I spent part of the day taking stock of the year that has passed, and part of the day taking stock of the things I want/hope/expect will happen in the coming year. And this year has been a big one. Apart from the small daily triumphs and tribulations that make up a life, I finished my PhD (at long last) and got a "big girl" job, struggled with infertility, and ran faster than ever. In terms of having the opportunity to experience the full range of human emotion, it was a slam dunk of a year. It was a year full of being rewarded for years of hard work, and of learning to let go despite my best efforts to control outcomes.

My birthday afternoon, and the forecast for 38 looks just fine by me.

And now: what's new and what's ahead? Well, there's one small clue in my birthday present from my beloved husband: an original composition entitled "Here We Go".

Another clue is that I've spent most of the summer on our couch, and that now I'm finally feeling well enough to get excited about the fact that I'm 17 weeks pregnant! It's only just sinking in that this is for real, and that there will be a project deliverable at the end of this process, on or about Feb. 5. There's much, much more to say; but for today, let's leave it at next year's birthday reflection: 38 -- that was a very good year!

I so wanted to attend the US Olympic Trials for track and field happening the first week in July, but we have (awesome!) family commitments in Eastern Washington, so it was not in the cards this time around. I unilaterally declared that we should still have some hot track action in 2016 as a consolation prize, so we headed down to Eugene over Memorial Day weekend to attend the Prefontaine Classic.

Greg in front of historic Hayward Field

Traffic out of Seattle Friday afternoon was extra horrible (2.5 hours from Seattle to Olympia), and we were lucky to make it to Hayward Field in time. First up Friday night were three tasty races (plus some field events): a W 800m race composed of all US studs, and a Diamond League W 5K and M 10K. They were all amazing in their own way. In the 800m, Oiselle athlete Kate Grace (2:01.16) came in second behind Alysia Montaño (2:00.78), aka "the Flying Flower"... two of my favorite athletes, so I was delighted! Next up, Molly Huddle ran 14:49.14 in the 5K and came within a few seconds of her own American record.

Kate Grace gets ready to roar.

Women's 5K flying with Lauren Wallace out front rabbiting.

The final event Friday night was the men's 10K. Although it's a lot of laps around the track, I found it thrilling to watch the race gradually unfold, building to a fantastic finish of Mo Farah and Williams Malel Sitonik sprinting neck and neck the final 200m. Mo Farah eked out the victory in 26:53.71, extending his 10K winning streak that extends back to 2011(!!!). I've heard it talked about endlessly, but it was incredible to hear an entire stadium of true track fans urging the athletes on in full voice... Hayward Field -- respect. 

Mo Farah gets ready to go!

Saturday was no less amazing (except in that Friday was FREE, y'all!! And Saturday we had to pay), but for me the standout race in a day of standouts was the women's 3K steeplechase. We stood near the water barrier and it was so inspiring to see the grit, speed, and grace with which the athletes leaped over it. Ruth Jebet ran 8:59.97 (holy guacamole!!) for the win and Emma Coburn ran a new American record of 9:10.76. Chills, y'all.

My favorite event, the steeplechase (Shalaya Kipp rabbiting)

Two other extremely cool things about spectating at Pre was that 1) we got to meet up with fellow Oiselle Volee members Liz Anjos and Sarah Matsumoto (thanks, Twitter!) and 2) we spent the day spectating just a few feet from a bunch of profesh runners including Will Leer and Alan Webb (American record holder in the mile). As you do. And you know what? They were cheering just as hard as anyone.

Cheer squad!

Eugene, I'll be back. :) 

If you were to see me on the bus, or out running, or at work, you might see me as lots of things. Tall. Smiley. Generous. Nose in a book. One eyebrow cocked about some odd thing I notice. You might have noted my laugh, or my mothering spirit. One thing you probably wouldn't guess is that I'm infertile.

It's a label that I avoided for a long time. Officially, it takes a year of unsuccessfully trying to conceive for a woman under 35, and 6 months for a woman over 35, to earn this designation. Both of those landmarks are unfortunately but a distant memory for my husband and me. When I was eventually diagnosed with diminished ovarian reserve (DOR), it came as a huge shock. I am healthy, active, educated (which really has nothing to do with anything, I know, but felt like it should be good for something), and come from a family of 4 children. Despite all those advantages, I have never been pregnant, to date.

It's an intensely private issue, and perhaps because of this, many women (myself included) feel extremely isolated when they encounter infertility issues. In fact, I didn't really want to write this post, and have found endless ways to postpone writing this. However, this week is National Infertility Awareness Week, and 1 out of every 8 couples struggles to have biological children. I had zero idea of any of this until I was living that reality, and I guess I'd like there to be a little more sensitivity and awareness around this issue in the world.

Now that I've said that I'm infertile, what more is there to say? Well, lots. But that's for another day. So for the time being, I'll just say this: be kind. The grief of infertility is like none that I've ever known. So, unless it's a close friend, don't inquire about family planning. Don't tell them to relax. Don't complain about your own pregnancy. And please don't say "you can always adopt" or talk about God's plan. I have found this website to be a pretty stellar summary of infertility etiquette (and a wealth of other infertility information and education), if you're interested.

For my husband and me, the journey continues. We are doing what we can to get pregnant and stay sane, and beyond that are just trying for serenity. It's hard fought, but it's coming. In the meantime, if you see me out and about (and heaven forbid if you should see me on that Yom Kippur of infertility, Mother's Day), give me a smile, a wave, a wink of solidarity. Talk to me about the wide, wonderful world out there, and please don't ask how many children I have.  

Just in time for the New Year, the powers that be at New Balance unveiled a new ad campaign, featuring badass middle-distance star Jenny Simpson, to thrill and inspire the masses (and sell some apparel and shoes along the way):

Oh, wait. Except this doesn't do any of those things... #adfail

When I saw this ad making the rounds on social media, I wasn't sure whether to laugh, shout, or cry. On the one hand, I was completely puzzled. How on earth would any business person think this message is a good one to sell clothes and shoes? I feel as though I've been punked by New Balance. I'm envisioning ex-collegiate marketing blowhards sitting around the NB New Year's Eve party, getting plastered: "Yeah, man, everyone thinks they're an athlete now...WTH?" Someone is dared to put this up on the website, and so it goes...

Assuming this was a soberly considered decision, however, makes it all the more absurd. It's clearly elitist, condescending, and offensive. Strangely, this ad would have you believe that entering a competition itself (along with the requirement of corporeal form) makes you an athlete. Again, absurd. My husband, an athlete by both New Balance's and any other standard, and I have had this conversation again and again: what defines a "serious" runner? And roughly, we have come to this: a person -- of any ability or pace -- who takes an interest in training for their own personal self-improvement. Not measuring progress against the current world record, or even against your best friend. I think the criteria to be an athlete are even more broad. Or as Sally Bergesen, founder and CEO of Oiselle, recently put more succinctly on Twitter:

One of the parts of this ad I find the most strange is the statement, "Which is unfortunate, because it means actual athletes are left without much of an identity." Who are these "actual athletes" whose sense of identity is so fragile as to be shattered when someone with a New Year's resolution laces up their shoes to go for a run? It strikes me a bit like the straw man argument we heard for so long against same-sex marriage: "If gays are allowed to marry, what value does my [heterosexual] marriage have?" Allow me to put it plainly: neither others' athletic goals and habits, nor sexual preferences, can make you more or less of an athlete, or more or less married.

I've had these thoughts tumbling around in my head intermittently for a few days, and only today have had a chance to write them down. And when I went to get a link for the ad shown above? I found this current version:

Same tagline, photo, and background; brand new copy and message!

The message on the new version is almost completely antithetical to the previous one. "Take performance to the next level... push yourself like never before." "Track your progress." "Supportive running communities." There was quite a negative reaction on Twitter to the initial campaign, so I was pleased to see that in the end New Balance is not quite as tone-deaf as they might seem. In the end, New Balance took a note from its own prescription, showing their once ill-conceived ad campaign to have "performance driven by data".

For the last ten or so years, I have had the ritual of writing on New Year's Day a list of accomplishments from the previous year and goals for the coming one. I do NOT like to call them "resolutions"; they are more like "intentions". I try to commit to the ongoing process of self-betterment, not just the "oh well, I ate potato chips on Jan. 4, so I guess that's done". However, as a quantitatively minded person, I do like the act of measuring sometimes incremental progress throughout the year, be it personal, professional, or physical. This year is no different, except for the fact that I'm sharing a curated version of my #womanup goals publicly.

Run consistently, including one speed session per week

This is basically an extension of my running plan from last year. I incorporated run commuting consistently, maintained a good base, and benefited enormously when speed became part of my regular plan. Now that my work situation is more predictable (office job instead of grad student schedule), speed sessions may need to be shifted to the weekend and run commuting may become my long run... final details TBD.

Strength training two times per week 

In 2015 I was finally convinced of the benefits of speed work; in 2016 I've decided to consistently incorporate strength training into my regular running routine, since: 1) Muscles are sexy. 2) I am not an injury-prone runner (knock on wood), and I'd like to keep it that way. 3) Plus, I hear that strength training makes you fast(er)!

I'm committing to doing (a majority of) the Oiselle Dirty Dozen twice a week, plus daily planks, pushups, and tricep dips. It's so easy to put it off, so I've made a "daily diligence" spreadsheet that will help keep my measurement-loving self accountable.

Save for a down payment on a house

Now that I've graduated, I'm starting a big-girl job as research faculty in the Department of Medicine at UW, doing kidney disease research with the good people at the Kidney Research Institute. Now that my starving student days are over, it's time to start #adulting and save for a down payment on a house. Also, time to hope for the Seattle housing bubble to crash hard (unrelated).

Be vulnerable and Wholehearted

While life is beginning to feel a wee bit more predictable, there are still more than a couple of moving parts in play this year. I've just finished reading "Daring Greatly" by Brene Brown (it's wonderful), and this year I want to embrace her message of being real and vulnerable in the face of uncertainty, as a path to more engaged and honest living. I'll be looking for joy and feelings of buoyancy in small ways, and trying to recognize my "sphere of influence" -- and not get stressed out by things that I have no control over.

Blog at least 1-2 times per month

For the moment at least, I am enjoying the practice of writing -- even when it's "just" a blog post -- and would like to stay accountable. I'm a little nervous, though -- what on Earth do people write about so frequently? :) I also struggle with conflicting inclinations toward privacy and openness in the online world, which maybe I'll sort out this year.

Did you make any resolutions this year? What are your goals for 2016? 

Happy New Year's Eve, all! As part of the stock-taking that inevitably happens this time of the year, I thought I would recap my year of running and racing. I had three running-related goals for 2015 -- to incorporate running into everyday life (i.e., run commuting), to run at least 4 times per week, and to PR in at least one distance. Let's see how I did... 

Number of races I ran: 6. Three 5K, one 10K, one half marathon, and one mile "race" that I put on myself.

Number of states I ran in: 6 states and 2 countries. Arkansas, California, Connecticut, Idaho, Oklahoma, Washington, and Baja California Sur (in Los Cabos on our honeymoon!).

Miles run: 1,005 miles. This is by far the most I have run over a calendar year, and is no doubt due to being consistent in run commuting, despite an incredibly hectic year. My original goal was to run 800 miles, so I'm pleased to have reached this nice round number!

Best race experience: My amazing husband made my October one-person "invitational mile" into a great experience. Beautiful weather, lots of cowbell, an inspirational pre-meet reading, and a shiny new PR all contributed to my current infatuation with the mile.

Best run: I've had lots of amazing runs this year, happily. One that stands out was a track workout on my birthday, spent in Berkeley while I was at mbira camp. While doing a 2K, 1600, 1200, 800, 400m ladder may not be everyone's cup of tea, I felt delighted and grateful to have the time and capacity to move, push my body, and feel that deep satisfaction on a special day.   

Best new piece of running gear: I'm not much of a gearhead, but I am loving the Oiselle Burke jacket's style, functionality, and reflectivity! I've drooled over its styling since the first iteration that I missed out on. Once I got it, I was worried it was too flimsy, but it has been just right for the coldest Seattle days. I'm also pretty excited about the Xinglet I received for Christmas, but it hasn't arrived on my doorstep quite yet. 

Best running advice you've received this year: Thanks to my somewhat reluctant part-time coach and full-time husband Greg Crowther (only reluctant on the coaching!), I've finally become convinced of the merits of 1) a thorough pre-race warmup and 2) regular speed work. Even more amazingly, I have come to look forward to both. Never should have doubted you, darlin'! :)

Most inspirational runner: I've enjoyed following Kara Goucher's return to fitness this year, especially following a rough spring/summer after coming forward to WADA with information on activities she witnessed while training under Alberto Salazar. I was also thrilled and touched by the vulnerability and Wholeheartedness (borrow a phrase from Brene Brown) of Sarah Robinson's journey back to racing after giving birth to her daughter. I can't wait to follow their respective adventures in 2016, at the Olympic Trials and beyond!

Favorite picture from a run or race this year: I hardly ever run with a phone, and consequently there are few photos of me running, and even fewer that I love. But I think this photo of Garrett Heath that I took at the USATF Club XC National Championship is pretty inspirational, especially when I tell you he ended up running a 29:06 cross-country 10K. NBD; that's just 4:41/mile, folks.

Garrett Heath in (Brooks) Beast mode.

If you could sum up your year in a couple of words what would they be? Consistency and speed. I've been really intentional this year about staying consistent in running, both in terms of mileage and days running. Although I only focused on these "process-oriented" goals in the first half of the year, they allowed me enough of a base to stay healthy through a series of training blocks in the second half of the year, leading to PRs in the mile, 5K, 10K, and half-marathon. It's been a great year!

How was your year in running? How many races did you run, and which one was your favorite?

In discussing my performance at the Magnuson Series Halloween 5K (which resulted in a 45-second PR on a yucky day), my sometimes coach/full-time husband Greg asked if I might consider trying to tackle the half-marathon distance sometime soon in order to leverage my current fitness. I've been running plenty of miles lately (at least 25 per week, trying to run 1000 miles for the year after a slow start in the winter), but my speed work and training has been focused on shorter distances: the mile in October and the 5K since then. Still, I was intrigued. Who doesn't like the idea of a bonus PR? Plus, it's a distance where I think there's room for improvement: my last and best half-marathon was only two days after getting married! (Such a great idea, btw...)

I decided to try a few longer runs to see how they felt before deciding. In the end and because my life is kind of crazy right now, it came down to one 12 mile run with Shannon, done in the pouring rain, with the last 4 as part of another Oiselle meetup. I'm beginning to think there's something in the water with #oisellevolee, because the run was fairly magical and I was sold that day. Plus, there was supposed to be a large O cowbell corner at the race, PLUS I found a $30 coupon for the Seattle half-marathon, so I knew it was destiny!

Warning: may cause giddiness and delusions of PRs!

Green Lake Gobble 5K

The way the schedule fell, I would be racing my goal race, the Green Lake Gobble 5K, one week before the Seattle half. Despite calling it my "goal race", I went into the Green Lake Gobble feeling a little blah about it. I had missed the last two weeks of workouts because of life, and with a recent big PR under my belt wasn't feeling super motivated to rachet up the 5K hurt again quite so soon. But I had registered, and I HATE wasting money, so I was racing. 

The morning of the 5K was one of those picture perfect autumn mornings: highs in the 40s, but blue skies (the bluest skies you've ever seen...) and sunny. I jogged over to the start line from my house for my warmup, met Greg and Phil for a wardrobe/shoe change, ran a few striders, and lined up. I lined up toward the front of the "joggers" (again, a highly nebulous designation), and as people poured by at the start (I tend not to sprint out as most people do at the start), teammate Danielle ran by shouting, "Go, Oiselle!" which was a delightful surprise. 

I honestly wasn't sure what would happen in this race. I had had some good workouts a few weeks ago, but I get nervous when I don't have a more recent marker of fitness. I decided to try to run 8:40's and hang on using Lauren Fleshman's "head-settle-heart" view of 5Ks. I also tried to concentrate on running the tangents, as usual, and not to be irritated by women running 3 and 4 abreast on a relatively narrow path (srsly?).

That old hurt crept up what felt fairly quickly, but I'm getting to know better what is sustainable hurt and what is not. When I made it to 1.5 miles I knew things were going well; plus, at that point I can fool myself into thinking, "It's just one more 2K rep [my favorite workout], and then a tiny sprint at the end." The mind games we play... And when things got tough in mile 3, I let the invisible string attached to runners ahead pull me along behind. 

During the race I was more focused on pace than on time, so I was pleasantly surprised -- once I caught my breath and could think straight again -- to find that my finish time was 26:18, a 54 second PR!! WHOA!! I felt like a PR was possibly in the cards for the day, given the tough conditions at the Halloween race, but never expected this. Greg was similarly agog. Mile splits were 8:36, 8:34, 8:26, 0:42 (7:07 pace for last 0.1 miles) for a 8:29/mile average.

Seattle Half Marathon

Around mile 9 or 10, I think?

Once I had signed up for the half marathon, I was puzzled as to how to run it. I wanted to have a strong race and not die at the hilly end as I have before, but had no idea what pace was feasible. Certainly the "race predictor" times based on my 5K time seemed overly ambitious. I decided to go out with the 2:15 pace group, stay with them until mile 7-8, and then do what I could to squeeze down after that.

We spent Thanksgiving with my brother in bucolic Republic, WA, where snow and icy temps contributed to a severe and unanticipated taper! We drove back to Seattle just in time to pick up my bib, and then went home and fell into bed. Race-day morning was really foggy; race-day head was just really groggy. But we got there and I huddled in the car until just a few minutes before the gun.

Once the gun went off I tucked in behind the pacers and just let myself be carried along. I am coming to love letting someone else lead; all I had to worry about was running the tangents and avoiding the odd icy patch in the road. The pace felt a bit faster than I would comfortably run on my own but doable; I heard the pacers mention that they planned to bank some time and were trying to come in at 2:14 (10:14/mile pace). Around mile 6? 7? fellow Oiselle bird Shannon caught up with me and we ran together for a couple of miles. During this time my husband checked in, and gave me the car keys so I could have someplace warm to go once I finished (the Metro busses were on serious reroute, so he wasn't sure he and Phil would make it to the finish line before I did).

During one of these miles things started to feel harder. I glanced down at my watch and noticed we had just thrown down a 9:15/mile-equivalent half mile. Too fast for this bird! At that point, I happily let those pacers go -- and while it's always sad to see that little sign recede into the distance, I knew it was the right decision. Once I got the Madison hill, I was plumb tired -- although the presence of the Oiselle Cowbell Corner did help! I walked a little at the top, and again a couple of miles later to have some water and eat a Clif Blok, which helped put a spring in my step again. Though tired, I was able to pick up the pace slightly for the last few miles and finished in 2:14:32 for a 10+ minute PR! Mile splits were 10:00, 9:56, 10:18, 11:21 (tunnel), 8:35 (tunnel), 9:53, 9:55, 10:30 (walking!), 9:56, 10:32, 11:14 (more walking), 10:04, 9:42, 2:33 (last 0.27).

The inimitable Sarah Chan Harnett, cowbeller extraordinaire

Overall, there was lots to be pleased with about this race. Although I was tired, the hills at the end didn't feel quite as soul-sucking as 3 years ago (think mountains of Mordor level of dread). There was a small amount of walking during key water stops, but overall things felt pretty good. And the 10+ minute PR, of course! Later, looking at my Garmin, I noticed that the first half of every mile I ran with the pacers was 20-30 seconds slower than the advertised 10:18/mile pace, and the second half of every mile was 20-30 seconds faster than advertised! A little irritating, but I just figure I ran my 2:14 the hard way, which makes me think there are more gains to be had.

It's been a great year (running and otherwise) -- happy holidays to all!

A few weekends ago I ran the Magnuson Series Halloween 5K, a rather spur of the moment decision that (somewhat surprisingly) paid off. In the weeks preceding the race, I went back and forth a number of times -- should I? shouldn't I? My goal race, the Green Lake Gobble 5K, isn't until late November. The Magnuson race could be a good fitness test, and it's a very cheap race. But: 5Ks hurt. The deadline to turn in my dissertation was a few short days later, and I was worried I might need the time for that instead.

Photo montage courtesy of Emily Brain

In the end it was the presence of the birds that swayed me -- the race was to be a Oiselle Volee meetup, and it looked like it would have a robust group of both racers and cheerers. I pulled the trigger the last day it was possible to register online and used the following 36 hours to mentally prepare myself. It wasn't easy. The forecast for the morning had us in the low 50s, with sometimes heavy rain, and up to 20mph winds. Ugh. This picture from fellow Volee teammate Rebecca Nelson was only a slight exaggeration:

Just a little windy, Rebecca?

Despite the weather, there were quite a few birds that turned out for the event, along with my loyal #1 fan/coach/husband, who ran around the course cheering in several places during the race. I warmed up, changed into my/Greg's racing flats, did a few quick strides, posed for a quick O photo, and we were off! I made a conscious effort to go out a bit harder than I had in recent races, trying to run a more even race. My effort felt hard but controlled, and having Greg and several cheering birds at the top of Kite Hill about 0.6 miles into the race gave me a great boost at a place where I have sometimes lost composure in the past.

After about the first mile, we came out of the sheltered woods and turned directly into the wind. Greg and I had talked about finding someone to draft off of in this stretch, but I was in a no man's land, and the only person around stopped to tie his shoe not long after. So I was on my own. I slowly started moving closer to the group ahead of me, and by mile 3, I was trying to gain contact with them despite that familiar 5K pain. :) I managed a slight kick in the last couple of tenths of a mile, and ended the race in 27:12 by my watch (the Magnuson series doesn't do chip timing, so I like to count my watch time as the "official" one). My Garmin had the course a bit short, but had splits of 8:53, 9:00, 8:55, and 0:24. I was happy with how even the splits were, especially given that mile 2 was almost entirely into the driving wind!

In the end, I was delighted to have a big 5K PR (45 seconds!) on such a cruddy day, and it gave me hope that I could do even better on a "normal" race day at the Green Lake Gobble 5K in a couple of weeks. Nevertheless, it turned out to be a great day despite the rain, wind, and cold, and I can't wait to race with #oisellevolee again soon!

I had three distances that I was targeting this year: the 10K, the 5K, and the mile. My goal was to PR one of these three distances; to this point I already accomplished two out of three of those this year! I decided to tackle the last of these at the eponymous "Leila Invitational Mile" Sunday morning at the Roosevelt High School track. The "meet" was supposed to be held Saturday afternoon, but forbidding skies, a 20mph wind, and a soccer game (complete with fans in lawn chairs on the track) all conspired to postpone the event until the following day.

My goal in the mile was to break 8:00; two years ago I ran 8:21 for 1600m with a brutal head cold, so -- especially given recent workouts -- I thought this could be an achievable goal. I had three secret weapons, aside from all the 200, 400, and 600m repeats I've been running lately.

1. My husband Greg, who agreed to be my rabbit and pace me through at least 1000m.
2. My husband's shoes. We wear the same size shoes (finally, giant feet ftw!), so I availed myself of his vast collection of Brooks shoes, and borrowed some racing flats that had shaved 10 seconds(!) off a 2K repeat earlier in the week.
3. My new Oiselle singlet, which reportedly holds magical PR powers according to the O Facebook group. :)

Our 8yo, Phil, had been gravely instructed that some serious cowbelling needed to occur to get me through the race, so as I jogged around the track warming up he dutifully clanged our new orange cowbell, pictured below. After about 15 minutes of near constant cowbelling, he asked if the race was almost over! We explained that the main event had not yet begun... though I appreciated the support during my thorough warmup. :)

Warning: cowbell may sound louder than it appears! (All photo credits: Joy Dworkin)

I changed into my singlet, did some strides, and then we had the "opening ceremonies". Race director Greg welcomed us to the meet, and my friend Joy (visiting from MO and thus co-opted into these shenanigans) read the following excerpt from Roger Bannister's memoir The Four-Minute Mile, describing the latter part of that historic race, for inspiration:

"My body had long since exhausted all its energy, but it went on running just the same. The physical overdraft came only from greater willpower. This was the crucial moment when my legs were strong enough to carry me over the last few yards as they could never have done in previous years. With five yards to go the tape seemed almost to recede. Would I ever reach it? 

Those last few seconds seemed never-ending. The faint line of the finishing tape stood ahead as a haven of peace, after the struggle. The arms of the world were waiting to receive me if only I reached the tape without slackening my speed. If I faltered, there would be no arms to hold me and the world would be a cold, forbidding place, because I had been so close. I leapt at the tape like a man taking his last spring to save himself from the chasm that threatens to engulf him." 

Now, I like to think there might still be *some* arms that would hold me even if I didn't achieve my goal, but the words were inspiring nonetheless!

Beginning of lap 3: Phil joins us for a 100m dash in the infield.

We took our places, and we were off! Greg called out splits every 200m; the first few laps felt easy and even slow, though we were mostly right on pace. He reminded me that the goal was to get to halfway feeling pretty good (advice he's given me previously for many different distances). It seemed to me that we picked up the pace around 1000m; at some point Greg called out that he was going to stride out a little to give me a target. My effort felt hard but good until the last 200m, when I felt a little nauseated, but I still was able to kick it in for an official time of 7:49.2! I immediately collapsed on the infield and relished the stillness. Phil rushed over to massage my arms (which were clearly taxed by the race) while the official results were tallied.

I felt fairly smooth and controlled for nearly the whole race, and I can't believe how much having a pacer helps! That said, in retrospect I think I could (should?) have gone out faster; according to my Garmin, our half-mile splits were 4:01.7 and 3:47.5, respectively. There's more work to be done, and I can't wait!

Elated but exhausted. 

After catching my breath and receiving the adulation of the adoring crowd, I got up and ran heat two as well. Phil was convinced to get his mandatory 20 minutes of exercise (or a mile of running) out of the way while we were at the track, so he was off! As Greg noted, Phil was "definitely someone who needs a pacer." He would sprint 50m, then slow down to a trot, rinse, and repeat. At one point he walked a little bit, but then rallied with a pretty good kick for an official time of 12:05 for his first mile ever!

Down the homestretch in heat 2.

Apparently Phil took a page from my book, because he immediately went to ground after finishing:

"I'm so tired!"

In summary, it was a great morning! Many thanks to Greg, Joy, and Phil for indulging me in my Once a Runner-inspired quest to train for the mile and for making it an amazing event to participate in, and to friends and family who followed along virtually. Bring back and long live the mile!

I had a few running-related goals this year, but one of the more results-oriented of them was to PR in at least one distance this year. June brought about a successful 5K race in the Magnuson Series, and I decided to capitalize on that fitness by chasing down a 10K PR to boot. Plus, I was excited to take part in the Women of Wonder race; it's a very "up with women" event and takes place on my (very flat) home course around Green Lake, so I was in! I was hoping to be able to debut my Oiselle singlet, but it didn't arrive until a few days later -- but I visualized myself wearing it during the race! :)

I didn't have my new Oiselle singlet yet for this race, but I had it on in my mind!

Training

I decided to do this race about a month out, so I started tailoring my weekly track workouts to longer intervals and doing slightly longer tempos as well. I've decided my new favorite workout is 2K repeats, and now vying for my least favorite workout (with 800s) was a brutal 3 x 2 miler that I did about 10 days before the race. I was slightly concerned about the race distance -- as a frequent run commuter I get plenty of mileage, but often in several 2-3 mile runs a day, so I don't often run 10K in one go. I made sure to do at least a couple of longer (for me) 7-ish mile runs in the weeks leading up to the race. My race goals were: A) break one hour, B) PR (previous PR: 1:04:42), and C) stay mentally tough when things got hard.  

Pickup

Packet pickup was available at Super Jock 'n' Jill the day before the race, which was super convenient. Even more convenient was the fact that I convinced my husband to go pick up my packet for me, since I was "working", and totally not watching "Entourage" while my Very Important Simulations were running. 

Race Day

Race day dawned rather gloomy and grey -- my preferred conditions to run! It was misting ever so slightly as I forced down an egg and chapati (I was awake but my stomach wasn't). After some more bed lounging to refocus, I got dressed and jogged over to the starting line, arriving about 10 minutes before the start.


You know how some days running is just magical and you feel as if you are springing from cloud to cloud? Well, this was not one of those days, to my disappointment. I didn't feel exceedingly horrible or wonderful; instead it was a race where (happily for me, on the day), you get out of it what you've put into the training bank.

Smiling and happy pre-race

Miles 1-3: 9:36, 9:36, 9:33

At the start there were corrals rather unhelpfully labeled "A", "B", "C", and "D", and the announcer clarified not at all by saying "6:00 and under at the front, joggers behind, strollers behind them". As has happened before, I had no clue where to start, but finally decided to stand near the front of the "B" corral. I think perhaps I should have started further up because when the gun went off even I (who usually start very conservatively) wanted to go around the people in front of me.

I quickly locked into my pace and focused on feeling relaxed, running strong, and looking out for the tangents of the road. My plan was to run 9:35's through the first half, so I was pleased with how easy my consistency felt.

Mile 4-5: 9:26, 9:31

The race course was two laps around Green Lake. As I came around the first lap, I saw Greg and Phil cheering, the ladies from Running Evolution giving high fives, and two guys in wigs belting out "Sweet Caroline" karaoke-style; between that and my 5K split (29:47?), I think I got too excited for mile 4. I tried to reel myself back in, partly unsuccessfully.

I wanted to run the first half controlled and race the second 5K, but dang, I was tired. Mile 5 in particular was me trying to rachet down the pace, though it's not necessarily reflected in the split. I latched on to a group of ladies going a bit faster than me to let them pull me along, but then felt intensely irritated that they were running and chatting while I was doing everything to stay with them. By this time the light refreshing mist had also devolved into a pretty substantial rain.

Mile 6: 9:20
Last 0.2 (Garmin says 0.26): 2:07

I was as tired as ever here, but through the fog still tried to give myself a pep talk about how many times have I run intervals when more tired than this? And that were longer than this? And run them faster than this? I passed the group of ladies I had latched onto in Mile 5, and unfortunately had to do some extra work dodging the straggling 5Kers who were uniformly walking 4-5 abreast. By this time it was raining pretty hard, but to their credit, Greg and the 8yo were still out waiting to cheer for me. I kicked as much as I could the last couple of tenths (couldn't muster much) and crossed the finish line in 59:10.

Serious painface and the world's most unflattering photo must mean I'm doing something right?

This was a huge race for me -- more than a five-and-a-half minute PR! Most importantly, I had a race plan and was able to execute it pretty much perfectly, even on a day when I didn't feel sparkly. And, through training, I have managed to become a bit more comfortable being (sometimes quite) uncomfortable during races -- I'm excited to capitalize on my current fitness and work toward some other distances in the coming months (stay tuned). Finally, many thanks to Greg and Phil for coming to cheer in the rain, and especially to my dear husband for the "coaching" and listening to a slow bird obsess over incremental progress!

I never got around to writing a recap of the Magnuson Series 5K that I ran in June, even though I wanted to. I was mostly stumped by my lack of planning, photo-wide: I failed to take a picture pre- or post-race, and the race photos didn't capture me somehow [Note: the Magnuson Series is a great bare-bones but CHEAP series that focuses on being able to track your progress from one month to the next, so I don't blame them at all for this!]. So I'll pad the race recap with some non-running photos of me, and running photos of not-me. :)

I'm a fake fake doctor!

Running the Magnuson 5K was actually a spur-of-the-moment decision; my family was in town for my graduation (the fake one -- I won't defend my dissertation until December) and I was looking for something active for my brother and me to do. A tempo run earlier in the week had me feeling good and I was wondering if I could challenge my PR of 28:55. So we jumped in the race. My goals for the race were: A) break 28:00, B) score a PR, and C) race smart and negative split the race.

We arrived at Magnuson Park in plenty of time for me to do my mile warmup and a few strides to boot. The morning was beautiful: sunny but cool, with temperatures in the low 60's. It's a small race series, so even after the gun went off there wasn't much maneuvering necessary. Gunning for a PR, I went out at a comfortably hard pace, and went through Mile 1 in 9:17. Looking back, it was a bit slower than I really wanted, but I wanted to save some (mental and physical) energy for the hill at about 0.6 miles. It's not a huge hill, but looms large in my head after feeling extremely defeated by it on the second lap of a 10K I ran there last year.

Once over the hill, I started to squeeze down bit by bit. I saw fastie Greg at several points on the course shouting encouragement, but didn't have much breath to waste telling him how I felt. By about the middle of Mile 2, I started feeling a little foggy and couldn't do much except try to maintain contact with the woman in front of me. I knew we had picked up the pace, but didn't know by how much. At certain points I tried to summon the energy to pass her, but I couldn't. I grimly hung on until the last couple of tenths of a mile, when I tried to kick but lost her by a few yards as I didn't have much left. Still, as I clicked off my watch crossing the finish line, I saw that I had run 27:57! The race was only gun timed so my official gun time was 28:03, but I'm counting it by watch time... ;) After catching my breath, I walked over and thanked the woman who I had followed for pulling me through, and she in turn thanked me for pushing her (she said she had heard my footsteps through most of the race).

Happily, my brother Murray also scored a PR (25:27), too: as evidenced by the pain face photo below!

Murph hangs on for a PR; cheers from Mama Z in the background!

Overall, I was quite pleased with the day. I had a race plan and executed it to good effect. I still don't claim to have a lot of mental toughness when things start to hurt, but I was able to hang on and accomplish all three goals that I had for the day. And a PR in at least one race distance was on my list of goals for 2015, so I'm happy to have checked that one off! Next up: I'll be running the Women of Wonder 10K on September 13, where I'll try to put some of these same racing lessons to the test in a longer format.

If you have perused this blog even slightly, you will know that I spent the month of February 2014 in Zimbabwe, studying mbira with various master teachers in Mhondoro and Harare. It was an incredible experience -- one that I would encourage every serious student of traditional Zimbabwean music to make happen -- and both helped my playing and my understanding of its cultural context. However, for various life, logistical, and financial reasons, realistically it may be a long time before I can travel there again.

So instead, I do the next best thing. I study mbira with American teachers who have studied this music and spent time in Zimbabwe, and I make an effort to study with Zimbabwean teachers who are traveling in the U.S. This year I went to an 8-day mbira camp in beautiful Berkeley, CA. There were two teachers: Berkeley native and host Erica Azim, and Zimbabwean teacher "Samaita" Vitalis Botsa. Samaita has a wonderfully complex and dreamy style that I have admired for years, and I was particularly excited to learn from him.

Spending the day near the John Muir woods playing mbira is seriously transcendent!

Life at mbira camp takes on its own rhythms: virtually your only responsibility (aside from doing some dishes) is to learn mbira. This singular focus is both incredibly freeing and incredibly intense. In addition to learning new pieces, I got to brush up on lots of old things I had forgotten, play with some excellent campmates, and learn singing to the pieces we studied (Tadzungaira, Mahororo, and Marenje). We spent a day in the John Muir Woods and a day at Pescadero Beach south of Half Moon Bay; both are beautiful places in their own right only made better by softly tinkling mbira strains. To clear my head, I explored Berkeley on the run and treated myself several times by ending my run at the Hopkins Street Bakery (vanilla cream donut: YUM!). Oh, and I woke up at the crack of dawn each day to cheer on the American athletes participating in the World Championships of Track and Field in Beijing!

Samaita had a sweet tooth just like me! THAT's why I spent so much time at the bakery, sure... ;)

The last day of camp coincided with my 37th birthday; it seemed fitting somehow to be able to reflect on the past year and the year to come in the context of playing mbira, which is how I do my best thinking. There are lots of exciting and possibly stressful things afoot for the coming year, but I felt calm and energized thinking about them. Here's to another great year (full of mbira)!