Wanted: Running Mojo

Recently, I've been lamenting the fact that I’d really slacked on my running this summer.

I’d love to report to you that I’ve turned the tide and that I am back to my usual miles on the pavement. But I’m not. I’ve just plain lost my running mojo.

I’m not the only one. In recent weeks, I’ve had several friends declare that they’ve lost the passion for running - that they’ve forgotten how to run just for the pure enjoyment of running. It’s become a job, another thing to put on the to-do list, another thing to track.

The way we are all connected through online training tools doesn’t help. There’s pressure, albeit unspoken, to run more often, to run farther or faster. Everything is calculated and totaled. You can’t help but compare yourself to others.

Some of those friends are quitting cold turkey. Not quitting running, mind you. They’re just disappearing from the online radar in an attempt to find their running mojo.

Me? I’m not taking that step yet, but I am trying to find my motivation.

I embarked on what I called my Remember Running Mission last week, setting the alarm early to get in a few before-work miles. Normally, early morning runs are peaceful and relaxing. The world is quieter and I can take the time to listen to the birds and enjoy the morning sun. I can get so wrapped up in the moment that I can almost forget I’m running.

Not last week. There was not a chance that I would have forgotten that I was running.

I knew my recent lack of running was going to be painfully obvious, so I purposefully set the bar pretty low. I planned to do only two miles, run a mile in one direction then turn around and head for home. It’s only two miles, I told myself.

To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I ran “only two miles.” For the past several years, my shortest runs have been 4-5 miles with a double-digit jaunt tossed in on the weekends.

I started out relatively quickly, as recorded on my GPS watch I wore to help me track the turn-around spot. I was pleased that my time off hadn’t killed my pace. What it had affected, dramatically, was my stamina.

I huffed and puffed more than usual. I resisted the urge to walk. Even though I know a big chunk of running is getting into the right mental state, I couldn’t help but concentrate on just how plain difficult running was,

For the first time in years, I realized why people try it and stop. More than once, a seemingly obvious statement went through my head: “Running is hard, really hard.”

My body seemed to pound against the pavement harder than I can ever remember. The wind got sucked out of me faster than it should have. I asked myself why I liked running, and for the first time ever, questioned whether I actually like it at all.

Of course, I know I like running. At least I think I do. At least I like everything it’s done for me, like help me gain confidence, make new friends, achieve goals.

Are those things solely tied to running? Can I achieve them in other ways? Do I want to? I’m not sure.

I made it through those two miles that morning. I got up to do it again the next day, then a couple days after that, with an extra mile added onto the route. I was on a mission to remember why I like running.

I’m still working on it, but it’s getting easier with every run.

In a strange twist of fate – or slap in the face – I also received a package from the Boston Marathon last week, complete with my official finisher’s certificate. I stared at it in disbelief. How could I possibly have run a marathon so recently that I am just now getting the certificate?

Did I really just struggle through what should have been some easy running miles just because I’d lost the consistency in my running schedule? The answer, I knew, was a resounding yes.

It really makes me realize the power of the human body, not only how you can push yourself beyond what you think you’re capable of, but also how quickly you can lose all of your hard work.

Making Granddad Proud

In just a few days, I start the first day of my vacation. It’s a vacation, mind you, that’s required me to train.

Last year’s adventure brought me to Napa and Lake Tahoe, where my sweetie and I fell in love with the idea of bringing our bikes on vacation. We saw so many out-of-the-way places that tourists don’t usually see. At one point, we even said we’d never vacation without them.

We’re making good on that. This year, we’re kicking it up a notch with a seven-day cycling tour through the Finger Lakes, New York. A cycling tour doesn’t just mean a few bike rides mixed into a trip of wining, dining and sight-seeing. It means, rather, that we’ll park our car at the meeting spot on the first day and use only our pedal power for the rest of the vacation.

We’re not alone in this adventure. We’ll be joining 650 strangers. By the end of a full week of cycling and camping together, I doubt I’ll refer to them as strangers.

It may seem a bit ambitious - biking 350 miles in seven days, camping in between stops. But with organized camp sites, prepared meals, nightly entertainment, showers and even traveling vans to carry our gear from place to place, it really is one of the more luxurious cycling tours.

My grandfather, I’m sure, would agree. Although I suspect he’d be excited and intrigued about my upcoming trip, I think there’s a part of him who would scoff at the plush conditions.

Nearly 28 years ago, Granddad set out on his own cycling adventure, a sort of race to check off another thing on the bucket list. He was 65 and had just been diagnosed with cancer when he decided to make the trek from Toronto to Cape Cod. Yes, by bicycle.

I was too young, just 8 years old, to fully comprehend what was happening. I knew Granddad was going on a long bike trip. That alone didn’t seem completely out of the ordinary.

Granddad was a bit spontaneous and eccentric, always running, cycling or kayaking. For a while, he worked as a bike messenger through the crowded downtown streets of Toronto, dodging traffic and asserting himself as - that kind of cyclist - that gives cyclists a bad name. My mom recalls that the first time she was going to meet her future father-in-law. When she and my dad saw him riding his bike in traffic, they honked and waved. My grandfather, assuming they were just more pushy drivers, saluted them with the middle finger.

Several years later, he was standing in our driveway on a heavy, aluminum 10-speed, packed up with a tent and other necessities.

Most of what I know about his trip I learned through a journal he kept along the way. Each day in a short entry, he noted how many miles (or being Canadian, kilometers) he’d covered, the people he met along the way and what he ate.

Just a day into the trip, he’d discovered that his tent had a hole. Of course, he discovered this during a rainy night. He also discovered that he severely under-budgeted for his trip and, before the days of ATMs, feared he’d run out of money. He started a diet of cheap canned foods, like baked beans.

Soon, he had another plan. Granddad spent the remainder of the trip meeting strangers and somehow convincing them to make him dinners and sleep in guest rooms or on sofas. Granddad was a friendly guy.

He kept a list of the people he met, along with snap shots to documents his travels.

He died just a few months after he returned from his 700-mile trip. My grandmother called all of the names scribbled in the back of his journal to let them know he’d passed.

I feel a special connection to my grandfather when I think of his personal journey. I think I understand him in a way that others don't. I wish I’d been old enough to know him better and that he’d been around long enough for me to talk about his escapades. Who knows, maybe we would have even gone on a cycling adventure together. He’d be in his 90s now, and somehow I think he’d still be riding.

Sometimes the idea of retracing his journey slips into my head. I’m not quite as daring as Granddad, though, and I’d be more likely to make hotel reservations and eat at restaurants along the way.

For now, I’ll take baby steps into the cycling tour world. I’ll enjoy the nightly cookouts, the clean towels, the maps and marked route, all of the luxuries.

But I also plan to completely unplug. No phone, no email, no computers, radios or televisions. Just my bike and, yes, a journal.

Just A Number

As a July 2 baby, I'm pretty lucky.

I usually get to enjoy Fourth Of July festivities, cookouts and fireworks. Everyone seems to be in celebration mode, trying to enjoy every ounce of summer sunshine.

I especially like years, like the past two, when my birthday falls on a Friday or Saturday. Next year, when the leap year pushes it to Monday, won't be bad either. Another long birthday weekend.

Aside from the obvious perks of having a long-weekend birthday, the July 2 date has other advantages.

As someone who likes to look both ahead to where I'm going and back at where I've been, my birthday falls almost perfectly, smack-dab in the middle of the year. It provides just enough time to review the year-long goals I set back during resolution-season and to think about how the rest of the year will be.

From a running and cycling standpoint, I'm faring pretty darn well with my 2011 goals that I set in January. (See them listed on the right?)

Boston Marathon? Check. Raise $4,000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? Check. (Actually, it ended up at $5,525. I get bonus points for that, right?)

There's still plenty of time to get in a Century Ride and a sub-9 10K. Just gotta find the right events and put them on the calendar.

And my longer-term goal - the one to run and ride 3,000 miles this year - is looking decent, too. I'm over the 550-mile mark for running miles and just passed 900 miles of cycling. Almost exactly half-way there. Pretty near perfect.

When I'm done, I will have logged enough miles to "virtually" get me across the country. I figure I'm just coming up on Kansas City, Missouri.

My running and riding goals are easy to track. Like all good checklist goals, they're easily measurable. Either I did them or I didn't.

Black or white. That's how I usually am when it comes to goals. I recently found a mini bucket list I'd put together several years ago, lining up a few personal goals I'd set for myself. The list consisted of the following: get a tattoo, run a marathon, finish a half-marathon in less than two hours, and get my American citizenship.

Yes, it was a pretty big year.

I did everything on the list except get my citizenship - and that's just a long, story and something I've been dragging on for years and years.

I haven't really set any personal goals for myself for a while. Maybe it's time to change that. The problem is, "goals" related to personal life tend to be much more gray. I'm not talking about the kind of personal goals that I listed out above. Those are black-and-white goals, too. And two of them, mind you, are related to running.

Where is it, exactly, that I want to "be" at this time next year? Or the year after? Or when I'm, gasp, 40? And how do I know if I've gotten there? Surely it can't be as easy as checking something off a list.

Succeeding, if you can call it that, in life isn't always about checking things off a list - not always, at least. It's more about a feeling, something intangible. And something totally outside my comfort zone.

I know I'm happier than I've ever been. I know I'm healthier than I've ever been. I feel successful and secure in my relationship and where it's going. I feel confident and excited about my career. Yes, things are good. Really, really good.

So why is it that last week's birthday (I can't believe it's taken me a week to get to my traditional birthday post!) has me a bit on edge. Why does it have me asking myself those questions about "where" and "who" I want to be?

Plainly said, I'm having a bit of anxiety about now being closer to 40 than I am to 30. Yes, 36 somehow feels different. At the very least, it sounds different. Although I certainly don't feel 36, there's no denying that I'm there.

I haven't really expressed my anxiety about that stupid little number to anyone - not counting the old lady jokes I crack. I think it's because I know the oh-my-goodness-I'm-getting-close to-40 panic isn't me. Or at least it shouldn't be. Or I don't want it to be.

I'm supposed to be that level-headed person who looks objectively at things. I weigh all of the options and evidence. And when I look at everything going on in my life right now, I have absolutely nothing to worry about. So why worry?

All of this was swirling around in my head in the days leading up to my birthday. A Friday night pre-birthday ride was the perfect time to dig a little deeper. I do some of my best thinking while running or riding.

On that ride, I thought about what age means, what life "should" be like and all of those philosophical, gray-area topics that getting older throws at us. I thought about the Dailymile question of the day (nice timing, huh?) that asked members to list the things they were most proud of - in life, just not when it comes to training and racing.

What am I most proud of? What is my best accomplishment? Is it enough for marathons and bike rides to top the list? Or is there something more?

As I rode, I realized that life, as cliche as this sounds, is kind of like a long, hard bike ride.

There are ups and there are downs. And there are big climbs. I swear my early-30's were some kind of treacherous mountain pass. But then we get to the top, we get to enjoy the incredible view.

We can look back at where we've been, but we can also look ahead. From the top of the hill, we can see a lot.

I think that's where I am now. Sitting at the top of a high hill, looking ahead at the windy road. I don't know exactly where it will take me, but I know there will be more hills ahead (there always are) and I know I'll tackle those and get to the top (I always do). And I'll be ready for the next one.

Until then, I plan on enjoying the view and just seeing where the road ahead takes me.

Turns out, I thought about the life-bike analogy on my Birthday Eve ride as I rode up to the top of a familiar and steady hill. The view at the top, I'll note, is beautiful. I pause, at least mentally, every time I'm there to look out toward the mountains on the horizon.

Then, like I always do, I steered into the hill, clicked into my bigger gear and started pedaling. I felt confident and steady on my bike, despite the steep pitch of the downhill. I loved the fresh air whipping by me and the smells of summer hitting me in the face. Fresh-cut grass, burgers on the grill. The sun was shining, the air was warm. It was perfect.

As I neared the bottom of the hill, I glanced down at my speedometer: 38, 39. Could I reach 40? I couldn't recall seeing a 4-0 on my speedometer before.

Just then, it ticked up to 40 miles an hour - 40.1, to be exact. I felt this strange sense of exhilaration and accomplishment. Once again, I'd done something I hadn't done before. And it felt good.

The road starts a gradual uphill and I naturally slowed. I laughed to myself, maybe even aloud, as I realized the irony in my bike ride. I'd spent the first 10 miles thinking about figuratively racing toward 40 - as in years old - and feeling apprehensive and nervous about it. Now, I was celebrating about literally hitting 40 - miles per hour - on my bike.

Just goes to show you, it's just a number after all. Right?

Goin' Pro

I've officially gone pro.

That doesn't mean, unfortunately, that I'm getting paid to run and ride my bike. (Wouldn't that be a dream come true!?) Instead, it basically means I've opted to upgrade to the new PRO version of dailymile.

In their launch of dailymile PRO, Ben and Kelly, the creators of the site, acknowledged that the site has grown immensely and so too has the demand for more features and services. PRO comes with a pricetag, of course, which Ben and Kelly say will allow for the expansion of services and features.

The PRO membership, at a cost of $49.95 per year, works out to less than a dollar a week. (There is also an option to pay monthly, $8.95 at a time.)

I thought about the offer briefly, noting that PROs get some additional features - like extra "motivation" options, tracking of PRs and enhanced weekly stats. None of those were really important enough to me to feel the need to "buy" them.

Still, I clicked through to the registration page and became a PRO. Why?

To me, becoming a PRO isn't about the added features or status. It's much more about supporting a site and a service that I value. And for a $1 per week, I certainly get my money's worth.

Maintaining a website and its content isn't free. Trust me, I speak as someone who's made a living in the newspaper business - you know, that business that's struggling because once upon a time, before anyone knew what the Internet would mean to the world, someone thought that giving away our product (our news) away for free would be a good idea.

Don't get me wrong, I love online news sites. It's opened up my world to being able to read the hometown accounts of news across the country. I admittedly dislike paying for online news . Even those registration requirements cause me to "X out" of a site if I don't think it's worth it.

But that's all because I've been trained that online news should be free. Newspapers were their own worst enemy in this regard. We, newspapers, gave away our product for free. And now we wonder how to charge people for it.

Although the business model of a newspaper and an online training site like dailymile differ - certainly it costs a lot more to maintain a room full of reporters and editors than it does to fill your site with membership-posted content - there are some basic similarities.

The creators of dailymile have opted not to explore an advertiser-driven site at this point. One the one hand, I think of Facebook's highly targeted ads (except that one for plus-sized pajamas that somehow posted on my page -- what?!!). I find them totally unoffensive and even sometimes helpful. I wouldn't mind seeing them on dailymile, and might even go as far as to say I'd find some ads helpful. Surely there are some vendors that would love to tap into the dailymile market?

On the other hand, I look at sites like MapMyRun and it think about how it drives me crazy when their floating ads gets in the way or that Gatorade pop-up covers the route I'm mapping. It drives me crazy, but not crazy enough to upgrade to their "Premium" membership to avoid the ads, I might note.

But dailymile is different. It has a real value to me.

I've learned a lot from the connections I've made on dailymile, whether it be tips for races to try, training and nutrition advice or an informal review of the newest running shoe. I've made personal connections - and have even turned some of those into "real life" connections (even though I never, ever thought I'd do that).

Dailymile allows me to track my mileage in neat columns and graphics, displaying them as by the day or week or month. It keeps track of my year-to-date miles and my "lifetime" stats, along with my written, public goals. All of these things were things I did on my own, but dailymile has allowed me to put it all on one place.

That's not to say it's perfect.

Just today I found myself having a "I wish dailymile had..." moment. I shot an email to Kelly, who replied in super-fast fashion with an answer. I added in my "wish" to add to his "list" from users. I'm sure it's long by now.

Then something clicked.

We all have "wishes" for dailymile. Some are simple, some are complex. In the end, they're all going to take time and money. And that can't happen if there isn't a revenue model for the site. I'm not saying dailymile should be a paid site. In fact, I probably never would have tried it if it was.

But there should be an option for financially supporting its success and longevity. That's was dailymile PRO gives us.

Sure, the PRO gives us some features, but they're pretty basic - and quite honestly, trying to "sell" the PRO version based on the features may have been a slight misstep by Ben and Kelly. I've seen many postings about how the features "aren't worth" the money.

You know what? They're not.

Who really cares about being able to choose your leaderboard color. (I can easily say that because I'm never on the tops on my leaderboard.) The new motivators are cool and all, but I don't really need to pay to give someone a "high five" or tell them they're a "bad ass."

And personally, I'd rather not have my profile tagged with the "PRO" label, unless I'm actually getting paid to run.

It's my hope, though, that this is just the first step to differentiate features and services between PRO and non-PRO members. I look forward to getting future upgrades - like, ahem, the ability to show different training workouts (like run and cycling) in different colors in the daily total columns at the top of my page.

Or, cough cough, a better functioning export of training data - one that doesn't require me to convert from meters or seconds.

Perhaps PRO members could even get discounts on products and training services arranged through partnerships with dailymile. Race discounts? That'd be cool. Periodical merchandise giveaways? A nice perk.

Don't get me going. The possibilities are endless.

For now, we all continue to send our suggestions or post our "wish list" on the site. And we're lucky because Ben and Kelly are listening - and responding. I know the only way, at this moment at least, to get these things done is to be a PRO.

Getting back to the newspaper business momentarily, we're also exploring ways to help make our online site more profitable, including the very real possbility of a paywall. Subscribers to our print product - which is still the bread and butter in the revenue column - would get everything online for free.

The rest of our readers? Well, I don't think they'll be nearly as friendly and open to change as my friends on dailymile.

Honoring Healthy Lifestyles

I admit it, I have a pretty cool job. As Community Relations Manager at the New Hampshire Union Leader, I get to do a lot of things and meet a lot of interesting people. One of my all-time favorite perks of my jobs is that I get to make a difference.

I'm particularly proud of a recent partnership between the American Heart Association and the Union Leader to present the Lifestyle Change Award to a person in New Hampshire who has made changes toward a healthy lifestyle.

I was lucky enough to be part of the presentation at last night's Heart Walk and to introduce this year's 10 finalists. Each had done incredible and, to some, seemingly impossible things - several had lost more than 100 pounds, all of them had taken up exercise and better eating habits. In short, they had committed to a healthy lifestyle.

As I introduced the finalists last night, I looked out into the crowd of spectators. I hoped just one of these stories would inspire someone in that audience to make a change.

Below is a story that appeared in the New Hampshire Union Leader today covering last night's event. I encourage you to take a few moments read it.

People often assume that healthy, active people were always that way, that they've never known the "couch potato" lifestyle or have dealt with health scares. I think, more often than not, the opposite is true.

Kevin's story is truly touching and inspiring, and if just one person makes a change toward a healthier lifestyle, it was worth missing out on a bike ride on a near-perfect evening.



Walkers begin the Heart Walk outside Northeast Delta Dental Stadium in Manchester Wednesday evening. MARK BOLTON/UNION LEADER

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By TIM BUCKLAND, New Hampshire Union Leader

MANCHESTER — Kevin Twombly knew he had to make some changes in his lifestyle when he suffered a stroke while putting his young daughter to bed one night a few years ago.

An active man through college, he stopped exercising as life got busier — work and family taking up the time that used to be spent jogging. He was diagnosed with high blood pressure and high cholesterol at age 28. He ballooned to 255 pounds. He was just 32 went he suddenly experienced tunnel vision and numbness in his left arm and went to an emergency room, where he found out he’d suffered a stroke.

The Penacook man said he has no lasting effects from the stroke, but his rededication to exercise and healthy living — he started running half-marathons and is now an avid bicyclist — earned him the Lifestyle Change Award, sponsored by the New Hampshire Union Leader and People’s United Bank, at Wednesday’s American Heart Association Heart Walk, for which the Union Leader was a media sponsor.

“I feel honored to be able to see that some changes I’ve made in my lifestyle are being recognized,” Twombly said after receiving the award. “I’m feeling great. I’m at 190 pounds now. I’m down to a 32-inch waist, which I haven’t been at since high school.”

Hundreds participated in the walk, which started at Northeast Delta Dental Stadium, including heart disease survivors wearing red hats.

One of them was Ryan Champing, a junior at Windham High School who turned 17 on Monday and who has fully recovered from an enlarged heart and leaking mitral valve after two surgeries to repair her mitral valve and 22 blood infusions.

She now runs cross country on her high school track team.

“I feel fine,” she said. “I can run marathons now. Before, I couldn’t even climb stairs.”

Kicking off the event was a motivational address by Craig Evans, who suffered a heart attack while refereeing a basketball game at Raymond High School on Jan. 24 and who lived because of an automatic external defibrillator.

His story was given coverage in the Union Leader and on television and radio stations and he now spends part of his time campaigning to have the portable devices placed in schools throughout New Hampshire.

(Story and photographs copyrighted by the Union Leader Corp.)

Doin' The Du

Since I seem to have a decent handle on running and biking, several people have suggested that I tackle a triathlon in the near future. I admit my weakness in this one, totally overwhelmed by the thought of any type of swimming competition.

That’s why I was I was thrilled to find a way to cut out the swimming requirement, but still take on something new.

I did my first duathlon last year in Waterville Valley and instantly loved the challenge. A duathlon consists of a run, followed by cycling, finished with another run.

The clock starts on the first step of the run and doesn’t stop until you cross the finish line of the second run, adding the challenge of making the transitions from one sport to another – including changing shoes, putting on or taking off a helmet, etc. – as quick as possible.

These events are logistically just like triathlons, but without the wetsuits and fear of drowning. Perfect for me.

I was excited to go back and participate in the Black Bear Duathlon at Waterville Valley again this year. (You can read a detailed recap of my first duathlon here.) However, when I tried to register a few weeks before the event last month, I received a message that the event had been cancelled due to lack of participation.

The cancellation left me a little disappointed – and ready to find a replacement. Luckily, the alternative came quickly. Within a few minutes, I’d signed up for the Rye By The Sea Duathlon.

The Rye event would have participants run a 5K, then bike 17 miles, then run a second 5K.

I was relieved to wake up last Saturday morning to a near-perfect day. Temperatures were cool enough that the run would be comfortable, but not cold enough that the ride would have me shivering. The sun was bright and warm.

My sweetie and I loaded our bikes – very, very early for a Saturday morning – and made the trip to the Seacoast. I was pleasantly surprised to see a lot of cyclists already in the parking lot, checking their gear and heading to registration to pick up race numbers.

Like most races, the ability and equipment of the participants spanned all of the possibilities, from the super-expensive, all-carbon bikes with racing wheels to the older, heavier steel versions that looked like they’d spent some years in someone’s garage. I even saw a few hybrids. I instantly felt confident that I had a "good" bike - although as I always say, the quality of a bike can only get you so far, at some point, the rider comes into play.

Before the race, organizers reviewed the logistics with the participants – where to enter the transition area, where the 5Ks would start and end – which I thought was a nice touch and better than trying to decipher a confusing course map.

The race started with little fanfare and we made our way to the main road. The route quickly turned into some trails, which was a nice change of scenery, even if I was totally unprepared for a trail run. I'm not used to keeping my eyes so focused on the ground. For the most part, the trails were well maintained, and any obstacles (like protruding routes or rocks) were marked with bright orange paint.

Each mile was marked with a small water stop and a very friendly volunteer. The volunteers, I might add, were one of the highlights of this race – always smiling and clapping and genuinely looking like they were enjoying themselves.

The rest of the course took us through trails, across some wooden foot bridges and eventually back to the starting area where we’d enter the transition zone to do the quick change and grab our bikes.

The clock read 24:55 as I crossed the line for the first 5K - which was a 5K PR for me!

From there, I found my bike hanging on the rack in the transition zone, my equipment and gear laid out neatly on a towel beside it. After a quick change of shoes and a snap of the helmet, I jumped on the bike and headed off.

The bike route took us along the ocean, where we enjoyed a great tailwind. Score! More than a few times, I looked down at the speedometer of my bike and thought there must be something wrong. I don't ride that fast, I thought.

From time to time, I clicked over to check my average speed - which at its highest read 18.5 mph. Average speed. Again, I'm not that kind of rider. I wondered how fast my sweetie must be flying, if I was seeing speeds 2-3 mph above my norms.

After 17 miles of cycling back to the transition zone, I once again changed into my running shoes for the second 5K. My only complaint with the race is that there wasn't a second timing mat coming out of or into the transition area after the bike - meaning my fastest speeds by bike are not officially recorded. The official bike time includes the two transitions. Even with those, I averaged 16.3 mph - a pretty fast ride for me.

I was pleased to learn that the second run would have us do the 5K course in the opposite direction, which took away some of the monotony of running the same 5K twice.

The second run wasn't as unbearable as I'd remembered from last year's duathlon where I thought that someone had somehow replaced my legs with cement pillars. This year, I think the lack of hills on the ride really helped the transition to the second run.

The second run was relatively uneventful, passing the same happy volunteers at the water stations. I was able to chase down and pass a few people, which made me smile on the inside.

I made the turn to the finish and saw my sweetie standing on the sidelines. Of course, he'd finished way before me - nailing two awesomely fast 5Ks (without really training for running at all!) and an impressive bike leg.

I happily crossed the finish line - finishing in 1:52:01 - as participants who finished before me clapped on the sidelines. The support of other racers is an aspect to running events that I love. Soon, I joined them on the sidelines and watched as the participants crossed the finish line. The cheers were the loudest as a 70-something-year-old man finished.

The idea of a duathlon was a little scary at first. I didn’t know if I’d fit in, know what to do to even enjoy it. I can say without a doubt now that it an event that I want to do again.

The only problem is that there aren’t more of them in the area. Someone needs to fix that.

The Joys Of Not Training

Something usually happens in the weeks after crossing the marathon finish line, a sort of post-marathon blues. It leaves runners asking “what’s next?” and searching for ways to fill the hours they’d set aside for training.

Not for me. Not this time, at least.

After my first marathon in 2009, I felt that sense of emptiness, the nagging need to tackle the next big challenge. This time around, a little more than a month after completing the Boston Marathon, I don’t feel even a slightest twinge of that.

Instead, I continue to feel the sense of pure accomplishment combined with a bit of relief.

During the past few weeks, I’ve simply reconnected with my love of running. I’ve been running when I want, how far I want and at what pace I want. If I don’t want to run, I don’t.

I’ve been appreciating the scenery a little more, taking in the fresh air and trying new routes. In fact, I’ve taken this non-training time to try new things.

Last week, I made a point to finally check out the Goffstown Rail Trail for one of my runs. This was a great change of pace and scenery, winding just far enough off the road to bring some peace and quiet to my run. I can’t wait until the bridge project to connect the Goffstown and Manchester trails is complete. It will open up a whole new world of trail running options.

I also decided to incorporate strength and core work by starting my mornings with Pilates. I’ve discovered the options of the On Demand channel and am totally hooked.

Last week also brought me to my first group bike ride – or should I say, I brought the group bike ride to me. I hosted the ride as a way to bring together many of my active friends for a fun ride through the country.

The group, not all of whom knew each other, melded together perfectly. I saw new friendships forming and riding partners pairing up for future rides. I’m certain another group ride will be in the works soon.

Last but not least, I did my small part of participate in the Commute Green New Hampshire Challenge last week. As you may recall, the weather was certainly less-than-perfect for a challenge asking residents to bike bikes or walk to work. For an event that was supposed to be helping Mother Nature, she sure wasn’t helping us out. Perhaps those opting for the carpooling or telecommuting options were the smart ones?

Commute Green NH set a goal of logging 50,000 miles by asking residents to replace their normal commuting miles with an alternative method. The results are still being compiled, but at last check more than 62,000 miles were logged by New Hampshire residents during the week-long challenge.

I thought it would be an interesting and fun experiment, so I juggled a few things around and was able to fit in two day of “green commuting.” A self-described fair-weather rider, I avoid my bike for the rainy week of the challenge, but was able to arrange to carpool to work for twice. At the end of the day, I ran home.

It was a funny feeling leaving from work knowing that I’d be running home. Even though the eight-mile distance was something I’d done many times, it somehow seemed much farther as I faced this point-to-point route. Once I got started, however, it turned into just another run.

In all, I logged about 50 miles in “green commuting.” (As a side note, I discovered that Commute Green NH didn’t offer a “run” option when I logged my miles, so I had to choose the “walk” option. I gently suggested to the group via Facebook that they consider changing the category to “by foot.”)

Overall, it was a really interesting experiment. I learned that commuting “by foot” (or bike) was completely do-able, although a little challenging. The logistics of transporting clothes and lunches, along with keeping a constant eye on the weather, means it won’t be something I will do every day.

But it’s something I’ll try to incorporate at least once a week during the summer months. At the very least, I’ll save a few bucks on gas and get a few more miles on the legs and bike.

And it will be another way to enjoy my non-training days.

Teresa Robinson is Community Relations Manager for the New Hampshire Union Leader. Her column appears in the New Hampshire Sunday News every other week. Her email address is trobinson@unionleader.com.

Commute Green Challenge ... Indeed!

Apparently May is National Running Month. It also happens to be National Bike Month.

I’m honestly not sure where some of these designated “holidays” originate or why these two sports would be celebrated during the same month. But in the interest of enjoying spring-time and the ability to get outside, I’ve decided to participate.

Commute Green New Hampshire is challenging New Hampshire residents (and out-of-staters who work in New Hampshire) to reduce 50,000 vehicle miles this week as part of its annual Statewide Challenge.

The group says this annual promotion is designed to get “you, your friends, neighbors, co-workers and employers to choose inexpensive, healthier and more environmentally-friendly transportation options.”

The idea is to save us money, help reduce stress, and get us to enjoy and preserve New Hampshire’s beautiful landscape. You can also log your miles on Commute Green’s website (www.commutegreennh.org) for prizes and discounts at participating stores and restaurants.

More than 60 New Hampshire businesses and schools have registered as part of the “team” challenge. Individuals, like me, can also participate by logging miles online.

We’re supposed to carpool, bicycle, walk and use public transportation to work, school, shopping and similar trips this week, which coincides with National Bike to Work Day and Walk to Work Day on Friday. (I’d assume if you wanted to run to work, that would be okay, too.)

I participated in National Bike to Work two years ago, just about a month after I got my bike. It was fun and different, and I swore I’d use my bike to commute to work more often.

It never happened again.

Biking to work certainly takes some planning, especially for those of us who can’t attend meetings in cycling-appropriate clothes and prefer not to sport the helmet-head look all day.

Luckily, I have access to a shower and locker room at work so I can do a modified version of my morning routine there.

However, my bike isn’t exactly a commuter-style ride. It doesn’t have saddlebags or any other way to carry my change of clothes, shower items or anything else I might need for the day. Definitely another obstacle to this bike-to-work idea.

After I decided to participate in the Commute Green Statewide Challenge, I asked a few friends who sporadically commute by bike or foot for advice. The most common tip was to plan, plan, plan.

Many suggested starting the workweek by car (sorry, Commute Green) to transport any necessities for my cycling or running days during the week. That means I’ll need to find a place to keep these clothes and other items. One regular bike commuter even suggested keeping a pop-up wardrobe in my office – advice that I won’t be taking, at least not for this one-week challenge.

Another helpful tidbit I picked up was to use the “transport day” to bring along food for the week, including lunches and snacks. Since I’ll be burning calories on your way to work, I’ll likely be hungrier during the day, and I’ll also need to plan a fueling snack before the trip home.

I’ve also had to consider my work schedule, which often takes me around town to various events and meetings. I’ve tried my best to cluster my off-site appointments to coincide with my “transport” day, but this definitely took a bit of planning. (I’m also paying for it the following week with a jam-packed week of meetings around town.)

As if all of these logistics don’t add enough of a challenge, I’ve also had to think about the basics, like the route I’ll take. My normal driving route takes me via the highway, so I’ll opt for a path through downtown. I still need to find a reasonable way to avoid Manchester’s Amoskeag Circle.

Oh, and there’s the weather. I’ve looked at the forecast and it doesn’t look ideal for someone looking to venture into green commuting, especially someone who is admittedly a fair-weather cyclist.

I think I’m remembering now why I only commuted by bike once. It’s not just as easy as hopping on my bike and hitting the road. Ideally, it sounds wonderful. Realistically, it’s tougher than you’d think. It will be an interesting experiment, indeed.

I’m looking forward to giving it a try, even if I only get in a day or two of non-motorized commuting. I hope to get in at least one bike-to-work commute and, fingers crossed, a run to and from work. I’ll log a little more than eight miles for each one-way commute I do.

At any rate, I’ll give it my best shot. Perhaps you will do the same.

If running or cycling to work just isn’t your thing this week, telecommuting and carpooling “count” toward the Statewide Challenge.

If that’s still doesn’t do it for you, a quick online search of wacky holidays showed me that today “National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day.” Now that’s something I can easily celebrate.

Teresa Robinson is Community Relations Manager for the New Hampshire Union Leader. Her column appears in the New Hampshire Sunday News every other week. Her email address is trobinson@unionleader.com.

Boston In 750 Words

The following NH Runner column appeared in the New Hampshire Sunday News on May 1, 2011.

I have what feels like an impossible task in front of me, something that somehow seems more difficult than running 26.2 miles two weeks ago. I need fit in the experience of the 115^th Boston Marathon into 750 words.

As one reader suggested, I might be able to do it if I use only adjectives. I’d go for words like “overwhelming,” “loud” and “impressive.” I’d throw in words like “exhilarating,” “life-changing” and “inspiring.”

A description wouldn’t be complete without words like “well-run,” “organized” and supported.” And, of course, I’d probably include a few words like ”tough” and “painful.” It is a marathon, after all.

There are so many things to share about the experience of running the Boston Marathon. It seems like the easy way out to say it’s something you have to do to fully appreciate it. But it’s true. There is really nothing like it.

The Boston Marathon is more than just a marathon. I knew that going into it, having stood on the sidelines for the past two years, I was not prepared for just how exciting it would be.

Simplified, my running of the Boston Marathon was both better and worse than I thought it would be. It was better in terms of the overall experience – the sights, the sounds, the sheer magnitude of the event. It was worse in running-related ways that reminded me once again to respect the marathon distance.

I crossed the finish line with my arms held high and a smile on my face, but what I’ll remember most about this experience isn’t anything about running.

What strikes me most is the way that this adventure has brought me closer to so many people, many of whom never knew Marathon Monday existed. A marathon, they thought, wasn’t something that people they know did.

Thanks to the power of social media and the Boston Marathon’s top-notch tracking system, my friends and family experienced a marathon in ways they probably never imagined they would. I, in turn, strengthened connections and friendships along the way.

The Boston Marathon bib number doubled as the chip-timing system that would track my official finishing time. It also served as a signaling device that would let my friends and family track me at every 5K mark.

As I crossed the giant mats that would record my time, I thought of the signal being sent out. At the time, I was mostly thinking about the information that was being transmitted to my coach, who I was sure was tracking my per-mile pace to see if I was keeping up with the plan.

As I crossed the finish line, it occurred to me that I really didn’t know my official time. It wasn’t until I’d gone through the process of collecting my medal, heatsheet, packages of food and water and other items, that I reconnected with my sweetie who told me my official time.

It hit me at that moment that my friends and family, some of whom were tracking me in various parts of the country and even into Canada and England, knew my results before I did.

Well-wishes and congratulations filled my Facebook page and email inbox. I was blown away by how much interest was taken in my run, from people I knew in elementary school to professional connections I’d made.

When I returned to work and regular life after the marathon, I was surprised to learn that co-workers and other professional contacts had tracked my run, feeling a sense of excitement as I approached the finish line.

A few days after the marathon, I attended the Greater Manchester Chamber of Commerce’s Centennial Celebration, during which I was bombarded with hugs and words of congratulations. The woman I was walking with at one point asked me, “Does everyone in Manchester know you ran a marathon?”

Pretty much, I told her, remembering that I made the conscious decision to share my marathon experience – the good, the bad and the ugly – publicly with so many people.

At the time, I never knew how important that decision would be. But now, I wouldn’t do it any other way.