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!