14 miles

I started off with the running club this morning, but I didn't plan to finish.

Paul helped me get out there; my son had baseball tryouts, and he needed to be at practice at 9. So Paul drove me to the club's meeting place at 6 a.m. (We have one car for both environmental and frugality reasons.) Lately, he's been talking me out of my group runs, so it was great to get some help getting there.

The club was doing 24 miles, and I recognized the reality that I'm not quite there. I haven't hit 20 since November. My plan, too, was to run the last 5.5 miles of the L.A. marathon again. So I ran three miles with the group and then headed up San Vicente on my own.

The gradual ascent was killing me. I started thinking negatively.

Why the heck am I doing this?

Who am I to think I can do this?

If I can't even run eight miles, what makes me think I can do 26?

That's so not my style anymore, but there it was. I was going back to gym class days when I first established my self portrait as athletically incompetent. And, of course, there's some reality to the fact that that stuff really isn't my strength.

I've also been having iPod issues, so there was no music. Which couldn't have helped.

So I walked more than I usually do on my own, at least on the way up the hill.

On the way back, downhill of course, running was wonderful again. When I got to the numbered streets (I think 27th), I planned to walk at 11th street. Then I realized I didn't need to walk. Then I planned to walk at 7th. Seventh came and went. (I did have to stop for a long traffic light, which probably helped.) I kept on running until the end of San Vicente. (And then I took a short walk break.)

It wasn't the greatest run, but it was something. It was also rather slow. The 14 miles took me three hours, and the slow part was going up San Vicente. I'm not counting the green tea break I took at about the halfway point.

I didn't eat during the run -- just water, some salt and electrolytes without processed sugar or artficial sweeteners.

Shoe issues: The problem with having bought the exact same pair of running shoes is that I cannot tell them apart anymore unless I look at them closely. The more used pair has bigger toe holes in the front mesh.

I've gone ahead and ordered two new pairs -- both are different colors and one is a half-size bigger. I'm going to see how the bigger shoes work, particularly on longer runs when I know my feet swell a bit.

The viral nature of running

There's something about knowing other people who run that makes it OK, somehow, to try it.

When I heard a homeschooling mom friend of mine was running, it made me think that maybe -- just maybe -- I could do it, too.

So I tried. And, although I don't think it's my forte, it's something I can actually, sort of, maybe do.

Then, I was talking to another friend of mine, who told me she couldn't run. I told her she probably could, providing she began fairly slowly.

So she started, and now we're doing the Surf City half marathon together.

She got one of her friends running with her. Who got one of her friends running. Who got one of her friends doing it as well.

And so on. ...

5 more things that make me happy

1) Taking a minivan-ful of kids on an adventure. Today, I took seven children whale watching. Which was amazing. If my car could've fit more, I would've brought more. Tomorrow, we're heading to the Getty.

2) When the Coffee Bean has already-brewed white tea ready. Or a green tea that isn't Japanese Cherry. Iced tea has replaced Diet Coke as my drink of choice.

3) The feeling of my jeans starting to feel loose. The weird thing about being smaller is there's more variety in how my clothes fit. It took me losing 25 pounds before my pants were too big. Now, I can weigh the same but the same clothes can vary dramatically in how they fit, depending, apparently, on the amount of humidity in the air or something.

4) Watching my kids ache to be taller than me. The two older ones walk around on tiptoes, just pretending to have already topped me. If they can wait just a few more days, I'm sure they'll be taller than me for real.

5) Exploring L.A. I haven't lived here long enough that I'm anywhere close to knowing it, but I feel pretty comfortable over a fairly large swath.

The last 5.3 miles of the marathon

I went out with my blogging and real-life buddy Theresa and did the last five miles of the L.A. marathon route this morning.

It was beautiful -- and a nice run. She's faster than me, but she kept to my pace and I didn't feel too much pressure. We undoubtedly went somewhat faster than I would've on my own, but it was still a conversation pace.

It took us quite a bit less than an hour, according to my very loose calculations as well as our equally loose car-odometer measuring of the distance.

We saw another real-life friend, Deborah, running down San Vicente as well.

5 Things That Make Me Happy

It's pretty easy to make me happy. "That's a really good thing," Paul says, "since you're married to me!"

What a card.

Anyway, my blogging buddy Glenn came up with a list of 10 things that make him happy and encouraged us all to do the same.

So here's five of mine to start:

1) My goofball husband's sense of humor. Oh, I roll my eyes, but I do like it. Particularly since most of his best lines come completely out of nowhere. But, he's right -- it doesn't take much to amuse me.

2) The "Manager's Special" racks at Ralph's -- last week I got Ghiardelli milk chocolate chips for $1. (No, I don't eat them myself.)

3) My electric toothbrush. I've been appropriately scolded by dentists across the country for my incredibly inept toothbrushing. Now, I am the poster girl for excellent dental hygiene. And I have my Sonicare toothbrush to thank.

4) Philosophy's Amazing Grace scent. Also: Lilac and dandelions -- it reminds me of growing up back east, where they actually had lilacs outside of botanical gardens.

5) The fact that baseball season is coming back. Oh, I like basketball some, too -- but it can't compete with baseball for me. I'm also spoiled from seeing way too many games in person, so I can't watch basketball on TV. Baseball is much better in person as well, but I'm willing to watch it on TV.

Running in the dark

I got 70 minutes in today. Everyone wanted to talk to me.

First, there was the security guard, who told me, and I quote, "I got your back tonight." All that's in reference to it beginning to get dark.

Paul really hates it when I run in the dark by myself. So I headed home, rather than rely on the back-protecting skills of the security guard.

On the way back, I saw a largish man crossing the street toward me. He appeared harmless, but I kept my eyes on him anyway. Heck, it was dark. And he was big.

He went out of his way to talk to me to show me that he didn't mean any trouble for me. I felt sort of bad because he was African-American, and I don't doubt he thought I was watching him because of his race and out of more fear than I had. A big white guy never would've been that sensitive -- and I would've been equally aware of his movements.

It's like when I covered sports. The African-American players "got me" better and were much more gentlemanly than the white athletes. Even the young ones picked up my professional place in the madonna/whore continuum and didn't embarrass themselves the way the white guys did.

There's also no question that I had the little subconscious memories of Paul's concerns for me when I run in the neighborhood at night and the remark that the security guard made that made me more conscious of my vulnerability. I don't generally feel that, and I think that's a good thing.