Dashed Ego

As many, many, many of you already know, last year Micki, Eddy, Eddy's Uncle Ozzy, Mike and I participated in the Mountains to Sound Relay. The start is in the Cascades, the finish is Puget Sound in Ballard. Eddy did the mountain bike portion, Micki the road bike, Mike the kayak, Ozzy the half marathon and I closed it out with the "6 mile Glory Sprint." I didn't start my leg until around 4:00. I was excited and anxious, well fueled thanks to my friends pb&j and ready to go. I had forgotten my trusty, rusty watch, but no worries. I had certainly been training that spring, though mainly for distance since I was doing the Rock n Roll half marathon the following week. Still I did speed work every other Wednesday. So, I was feeling fine about the Glory Sprint.

I run between a 9:30 and a 10:00 minute mile. Some folks would call that a jogger's pace, those folks are not 5'0 tall and recovering couch potatoes. So, let's be clear Aimee Allen doing a 10 minute mile is certainly a run. I am sure every person that runs a ten minute mile would agree, too. There I was running (not jogging) along, hair blowing in the wind, listening to my tunes, chatting with a couple of ironmen competitors (each man had done the entire 5 leg relay rather than passing off to a teammate-by the Glory Run they were tired and mildly delirious, perfect company for me) just enjoying my day. Mike, Eddy, Micki and the kids met me around mile 3. They said I was going at a great pace. Yay! I stopped at the water station. I mean completely stopped,usually I grab my water and walk, but I just didn't feel like it, I joked with the volunteers, drank my water and latched on to another ironman for a few minutes of chatter. I just felt good, not too slow, not too fast. About a 1/2 mile from the finish Ozzy met me and ran in with me. I said something about wanting to finish in under an hour and he said I was way under an hour. Oooh!! I was excited, but wanted to see the time clock to know for sure. We crossed the finish and it had taken me 52 minutes!! OH YEAH!! We were going nuts. Mike busted out the calculator on his iphone. That's an average of 8:40 per mile. Sure, I had my doubts, but calculators don't lie. Anyway, I had been doing speedwork and my friends were telling me I was getting faster. I knew I had it in me and that day I proved it. I believed it. Yes, I had done a couple of half marathons, and yes I had done a full marathon, but something about running fast made me feel like I was finally an athlete!

Anyway, that was June '09 and for the past 11 months I have been bragging about that time to anyone who will listen. Maybe you are telling me about the new tile you picked out for your kitchen and you say something like "I can't decide between the seagreen or the seablue," and then I say after muffling a yawn "I once ran to the sea. Did I tell you I ran 6 miles in 52 minutes? That's an 8:40." Or maybe you say "I can't come to your house for dinner, the baby's sick." And I say "Oh that's too bad, I was making peanut butter and jelly in honor of the time I ran 6 miles in 52 minutes. It was the peanut butter and jelly that fueled me."

Not only have I been bragging about it to others, but I have been patting myself on the back for 11 months, too. I train for a few distance events a year, but I have had in the back of my mind that I could do a shorter race like a 5K or a 10K sometime and just bust out that 8:40 pace. Sure, I have not pulled that pace out again, but I knew it was in there somewhere and with a little training and hard work, I could access it when necessary. In my mind I let that speed define me. Hmmmm. You probably know where this is going...

The other day Mike got an email from the organizer of the Mountain to Sound Relay reminding us that we haven't signed up for this year's event (we have some other events that we are doing and haven't decided if the relay is a go or not). The email then lists a short thing about each leg, for example...we have added 4 more miles to the mountain bike leg, we have moved the water stop on the road bike leg, and so on. Then it says there are no changes to the 5.3 mile Glory Run.
THE WHAT???? The 5.3 mile glory run?? 5.3 miles??? I ran 5.3 miles in 52 minutes? That puts me at like a 9:55 or something. WAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Let's be clear, I would have been happy to cross the finish line and find out I ran a 9:55 or whatever. But since I have believed I was supersonic that day, well, it's not a good feeling... I emailed the "racemeister", as he likes to call himself, and asked if it was possible that last year's 6 mile dash was really 5.3? It was certainly advertised as a 6 mile glory run. I proceeded to tell him that I had been relentlessly bragging to everyone for 11 months about my PR (personal record). He emailed back and said "Please don't get mad, but it was 5.3." I then replied in some lighthearted, joking way, just my style, but inside I was really, really disappointed.

My ego is crushed. But even more than that I am so embarrassed. Not because I ran a 9:55, but because I bragged to everyone on the planet about running an 8:40. It's worse than having spinach in your teeth, while having your skirt tucked into your tights, while a piece of used toilet paper trails from your feet. When I sit and think about it I want to hang up my sneakers, crawl onto the couch with Ben and Jerry and close the Running Girl chapter of my life. But, then again in a strange way, I think if I am this upset about a stupid race that happened 11 months ago, maybe I really am an athlete.....

Seventh Inning Stretch

Greetings friends. And you aren't just friends. You're followers. I mean, you follow my blog. I appreciate that. I have been wracking my brain (or racking it depending on how you look at it) over the past four or five days trying to find a topic that would be fun to write, interesting to read and would please you, my seventeen followers. When I told Mike that I was stepping into the office to blog he gently reminded me that I said I would only blog when I had something to say. Oh Mike, that was before I had followers. Seventeen of them! The guy has no appreciation for celebrity. My goodness, I'm in it for the fans. It's all about the fans. They want the Squeaky Voice, I gotta give them the Squeaky Voice. The truth is, dear followers, it doesn't matter if I'm tired, or hungry, or completely without anything interesting to write, it's not about me, it's about you, it's all about you, my devoted fans.

Speaking of fans, today I went into Target to spend a gift card. I roamed around aimlessly past purses, clothes and finally found myself in the home department. I was looking at baskets and tables and just moseying along when there it was. A canvas of Yankee Stadium. Seeing Yankee Stadium hits a certain nerve that only well conditioned Bostonians can relate to...my thought process went something like...Yankee Stadium? in Gig Harbor Washington? How pathetic is that? Why on Earth...oh wait what's that? Wrigley Field? Less offensive, but still ridiculous. This is WASHINGTON for god sake...wait, wait, wait, if Wrigley field and Yankee Stadium are here then......Suddenly my heart started to race with excitement. I began rifling through the photographs until finally (insert singing angels here) FENWAY PARK. A beautiful photo of the Green Monster. God these people in Washington have great taste in sports. It was the only one there, the truth is that Target probably had fifty this morning, but they all sold out. I scooped that bad bird up and headed for the cash register. Now some people when buying a large wall hanging might hold it facing in, and some people might hold it at chest level to be sure to have a good grip on it. Some might even hide it away in their shopping carriage. But, it's Fenway Park, so I did what any extremely sane person would do. I hoisted it over my head and started singing Sweet Caroline.

Then I decided to myself, you know what, it wouldn't be fair to all the shoppers in Target if I just headed over and paid, some of these good folks haven't seen my find. So I proceeded to take the long way around the store. I headed through the toy department. Don't worry, I was friendly, I didn't want anyone to feel badly that I was having a far superior shopping trip than they were. I said things like "Hey nice spiderman" or "Gosh is that talking Dora? I love her." And when they sweetly asked "Hey crazy lady why are you prancing around with that scoreboard over your head?" I just patted them on the head and said "Not just a score board sweetie, The Green Monster". Okay, I am exaggerating, I didn't pat them on the head, if I did I would have dropped my picture.

Next, I headed through the electronics department, people saw me and gasped...probably because they were so happy for me. In the card department somebody said something about me needing to be committed. "Don't worry," I said, "of course I am committed." Did they really doubt me?Geez. When I finally reached the cash register I was worn out. Sweat was dripping from my forehead and my Big League Chew had completely lost its flavor. It was pure adrenaline (and one of those huge peanut butter M&M cookies) that got me through the next few hours.

Once back in the clubhouse, I mean once I was home, my amazing husband hung the picture for me in the very honorable location of the downstairs bathroom. Now it can be enjoyed by our family and all of our guests. In fact, you are welcome to come see it anytime. Maybe on fan appreciation night? I am planning to give out Squeaky Voice bobbleheads to the first 17 fans who show up.