You may have heard about the recent controversy that started when Tennesse mom Torry Hansen returned her 7 year old boy Justin to Moscow with a note indicating the boy was psychotic and she no longer wanted to parent him. The case has prompted Russia to come startlingly close to suspending its adoption program in the U.S.
Our family was one of the approximately 1600 who travelled to Russia in 2009 to adopt a child. Since today has been designated We Are The Truth Adoption Blogger Day by the Joint Council on International Children’s Services, I want to share our incredible experience, our beautiful and wonderful 3 year old boy,
and the devastating future more than 700 thousand not-so-fortunate Russian orphans face.
My husband Derrick and I did months of research before committing to adopt from Russia. We needed to find the right adoption agency for us and to do our homework about the medical and psychological conditions children who have been institutionalized face. In August 2009 we started mountain ranges of paperwork in hopes of adopting a little brother for our biological son and completing our family. Then, we waited, read and Googled.
Those of us in the adoption community normally throw around acronyms like RAD and FAS and book titles like Beyond Consequences and the Connected Child like they are every day household terms, because to most of us, they are. We are well aware children who have spent years in institutions are at risk for a multitude of problems, but also that many of them thrive and even excel when in the right environment. Derrick and I learned the first 6 months or even year could be a difficult adjustment for our family, and I met dozens of adoptive families in person and online who had plenty of advice. Experiences varied but there were no regrets. Most adoptive parents I know are familiar with adoption risks and how to best deal with problems that may occur. That’s our responsibility to our new child and existing family.
7 months later we received a set of photos 
and medical documents for Jhenya, a 2 year old boy who was relinquished at birth and had spent his entire short life in Baby House 2 in Chita, Siberia, a far away place where anti-government rebels called Decembrists had been exiled in 1825. He looked a little scary in some of the photos, had a blank stare in others, was playing with 
a few toys in others.
We prepared for the possibility our healthy looking son-to-be might not be healthy. We had his medical records carefully analyzed by a team of Russian adoption medical experts. We read the books on the attachment issues children face who have been ignored and neglected and how not being held or comforted can change a baby’s brain chemistry permanently. We read how children with Reactive Attachment Disorder can be violent, can lack the capacity to love, but also can be absolutely fine with help. Children can be amazing survivors.
We made two trips to Moscow and Siberia to visit the orphanage. Jhenya was incredibly adorable, even though he wore funny Eastern European girls clothes, sometimes practically rags.
We were in love with him at first glimpse. 
He, on the other hand, was scared of the American strangers though he loved our laptop, cellphones and snacks. He loved his caregivers and called them all Mama: Mama Nina, Mama Katia, etc. He was very happy in his orphanage because he knew no other life. After all, he was two.
We brought a terrified, wide eyed toddler home from Russia on May 23rd, 2009. We did the best we could with what are known as “Attachment Parenting” techniques: cocooning the family at home, limiting visitors, just playing and bonding. There was lots of hugging, kissing and affection and James Christian, (whom we still call Jhenya, his Russian name) slept in our bed at night, clinging to me for dear life. We loved him instantly and he very soon clung to us not just for safety and sustenance but because he loved us too. In about a month we felt like a normal family of four.
The adjustment period can be long and difficult with a post-institutionalized child. I consider ours short and relatively painless: sleep problems, a few tantrums, lots of touching, grabbing and experimenting with everything from appliances to makeup to dog food. ( Orphanages offer very little stimulation, very choices, and few glimpses of what the outside world is really like. ) It’s not unlike having a newborn and lots of patience is required.
Jhenya is a beautiful, bright, funny, healthy and adorable boy. 
He is loving and sweet, shy with strangers, eager to learn and full of smiles and giggles. His English is good and improving all the time. His mistakes are always so cute: “I need the help!”, “May I have a milk”, “I need paper toilet” etc. He and his brother Nicholas,5 are the loves of our lives and our family would not be the same without him. So far, we are a very fortunate family in that we did not have to dig into our arsenal of attachment therapy books or seek help for behavior, socialization or learning problems. Are we home free? Absolutely not. We are in our forties with two small children; the next 20 years will be fraught with challenges. Jhenya knows he is adopted but doesn’t fully understand. What will happen when he really understands his birth mother gave him up and kept his three older siblings? Scary stuff. But we’re in. Whatever the future holds, Jhenya and Nicholas are our sons. 
One percent of Russian adoptions in the U.S. are “disrupted”, which usually means being placed with another U.S. family, not put on a plane back to Moscow. But there are more than 50 thousand happy, thriving Russian children in the U.S. whose adoptive families love and cherish them. Some have issues. Many of us parents and our biological children have issues too.
To me, it is Dickensonian that there still exists a system where children are given up due to poverty and alcoholism and remain in spartan orphanages where there is medical care but often inadequate nutrition and little or no love. Seeing the orphans and their homes is heartbreaking, yet I also feel drawn to them. There are too many orphans for Russia to adequately take care of. They need us. And the 3000 American families waiting to adopt from Russia, with their eyes wide open about what to expect, need those kids.
I thank Russia for our son and for his loving nature despite his rough start. I hope and pray Russian adoption will continue for parents who are committed, prepared and realistic.
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I like having a plan. Even if it is a plan B.
Training for a marathon is like a high-wire act. It’s all about balance. Train enough to get strong, but not so much to get injured. It’s also about timing and trying to peak at the right time: race day. That’s why training schedules are specific. They don’t say go take a run today; it’s run 10 miles at 60-70%.
My timing and balance are WAYYY off, and I’m not sure what to expect. I had to pull out of the ING Marathon at the last minute, so now I’m planning for the Country Music Marathon in Nashville on April 24th. I’m excited about running a great race in a new city, but first, I have to get there.
I peaked back at the beginning of March, then tapered. Instead of running the ING marathon, I didn’t run at all for a week and a half. My first run back, I had to walk part of it, because I was so weak and exhausted. The Team in Training coaches helped me come up with a plan B, and I’m happy to report my runs this week have been awesome. My strength is back and I’m feeling great! I’ll feel even better if I have a good run this Saturday. It’s 12 miles this week, 16 next week, then 8 taper, and the race.
It wasn’t the original plan, but it’s a good one. . . hopefully.
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Marathoners are full funny little sayings. The two I quote most often come from my dad:
Run your race.
Run to run another day.
I kept repeating those quotes over and over again in my head over the last week like a mantra. By now, I was supposed to be basking in the post-marathon glow, instead I’m scrambling to find another marathon. Instead of trying to break four hours, I’m just hoping to finish. It’s funny how one night in the ER can change your running plans.
I’ll gloss over all the details and sum it up like this: I’m OK, it’s no big deal. But for a while, I was totally sidelined. And for just a while, I didn’t even care about missing the ING Georgia Marathon. It was always there, hanging around in the back of my mind. But it wasn’t until days later, when I came out of a pain-medication-induced haze that I realized the last six months of training was building to a crescendo that would never happen.
Saturday night, I went to the Team in Training celebration dinner. I admit there was a part of me that didn’t want to go. That didn’t want to hear everyone talk about their successful marathons while I just nodded and smiled. But I’m so glad I went.
I was so proud of everyone. While runners relived the race, water stop by water stop, the non-runner spouses and friends got a glazed look. I could almost hear their brains working: who cares how many goo gels you ate? And whether you ate them at mile 9 or 12? It’s almost like this secret language only endurance runners can speak. Yes, it’s awesome.
Run to run another day. It looks like that day will be April 24th. I’m planning to run the Country Music Marathon in Nashville next month. So, I’ll get my big event. Just a month late.
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The score was Johnson Ferry: 1, Me: 0.
Some hills are just hills, but some are Hills (with a capital “H”). Johnson Ferry at Columns Drive is definitely a Hill. 
I ran it during my 12 miler, and I was set to face it again for an 18 miler. Leading up to Saturday’s run, I’d been living on a solid diet of Olympics. I love the Winter Olympics: bob sledding, biathlon, cross-country skiing, snowboard cross, even curling. My television never strayed from NBC for those ten days (given NBC’s usual programming line-up, this was a huge change despite my obvious 11Alive loyalties). So, I entered Saturday inspired and ready to treat Johnson Ferry like that cocky ice skater from Russia—Take that!
By now, you’re thinking: it’s a hill, what’s the big deal? So it’s time to admit I have a thing about Hills (not the little hills, just the Hills).
I’m not nervously uncomfortable of them the way I am of revolving doors and garbage disposals. They just keep beating me. I can’t run them at the pace I should be. I fall behind on the hills and catch up with my runner partners at the top, but as the runs get longer it’s getting tougher. There are lots of things I can do to improve my hill performance next time, but right now, I’m about to start ramping down on my running: no time to start a new strength training plan.
So I just have to gut it out.
And you know what? I did. Maybe it was the pocket full of jelly beans I nibbled at the later water stops. Maybe it was the extra hours of sleep I squeezed into my week. I’m not saying it was super-fast or that I didn’t fall behind. But I did it, and I felt good. So, in my book, that makes it 1-1.
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This week, I had a chance to spend some time with 11 year old Lindsay Simmons. She just celebrated her first post-chemo birthday. She’s the honored hero for the ING Team in Training. I could write a whole blog about how listening to her talk about cancer was both heartbreaking and inspiring. But, at heart, I’m a photographer. I tell better stories with pictures and sound, so you can watch the story here. It has me excited to go run 16 miles this weekend.
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When we set out to do something different, something big, I told Jerry Carnes, “We’re going to be best friends by the end of this.”
“Or, you’ll want to kill me,” he said. I gave him a quizzical look. Five days later, I knew what he meant.
Hopefully, he won’t be offended by the comparison, but I think fellow 11Alive reporter, Jerry Carnes, and I have a lot in common. We’re both backpack journalists (AKA one-man bands); which means we shoot, write, edit, and front our own material. We’re both our own worst critics; we agonize over our work and can always find one thing we should have/could have/would have done better. We’re both passionate about what we do. In my case, you can chalk it up to my under-30, single, married-to-the-job kind of life. But Jerry’s been doing this for a long time, and he’s still passionate about coming into work. Every. Single. Day. I find that kind of amazing.
Last week, while digging for a story, we ran into each other and decided to team up.
The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 (AKA the stimulus bill) is 407 pages long. The reports tracking the money include hundreds of additional pages. As a taxpayer, you have a right to know where that money is going. After all, it’s YOUR money. As a journalist, it’s my job to tell you. As an employee of 11Alive, it’s a given. Last September, we dedicated half of an 11:00 newscast to a stimulus special. Since then, we’ve stayed on top of where your money is going. But Jerry and I still had a lot of questions. Mostly, what’s taking so long?
While going through some GDOT reports, we found a lot of “$0” under stimulus projects. We wondered how we could measure the success or failure of the stimulus bill if half of it hadn’t even started. Following the “two heads are better than one” belief, Jerry and I decided to do a tag-team stimulus special. Our News director liked the idea, and it was slated to run in the 11:00 newscast after the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. Here’s what happened over the next five work days (by the numbers):
-47 stimulus projects reviewed in 6 Metro-Atlanta counties
-21 work sites visited
-600+ pages of paperwork read, scanned, and scribbled on
-4 pages of script written, trashed, and re-written at least five times
Funny quotes that came from the week:
“Someone stole my trashcan. And the worst part is, when my brain turns to mush, I have no way to catch it now.” – Jerry (perhaps this was in reaction to my color-coding, highlighting, post-it noting system that made a lot of sense…. to me)
“It’s like half my day just disappeared into a black hole! (followed by a series of exclamations I cannot post here)” – Me after a brand new tape went “bad” and everything on it was unusable
“News Director: You need to put that in the script. Me: We had it and we took it out. Jerry: We had it? No, we didn’t. Me: Yes, we did. We fought about it. Jerry: We didn’t fight about anything Me: Sighhhh.”
Later, from co-worker: “You sounded like a married couple. Men never recognize a fight.”
“Jerry: Should I lean out or lean in? Kathy (photog shooting stand-ups): Scoonch that way. Jerry: Scoonch? What is scoonch?”
It turns out, a truly collaborative process is harder than I thought it would be. We didn’t always agree on the writing, the shooting, the editing. We didn’t always see eye-to-eye on what to include and what to cut out. As journalists, we have our individual styles. It’s not that one is better than the other. It’s just WHO WE ARE. But in this story, we somehow blended those styles together to craft an important piece of journalism. I’m proud of it. I learned a few things from Jerry. Maybe he learned something from me…. Probably not that color-coding, highlighting, post-it noting system. But he’ll miss it. I know he will.
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I was in the car at a red light with a friend last summer when a runner passed us. You know the type: not an ounce of fat, muscles glistening in sweat, running at a speed I only achieve in my dreams. “Now, he’s a REAL runner,” my friend said.
I thought, “I’ve run half-a-dozen marathons, who knows how many halves, 5Ks, 10Ks. I know the lingo. I wear the gear. Who are you to say I’M not a REAL runner?” Instead what came out of my mouth was, “Are you saying I have a big ass?”
What happened next was the smartest thing (and the only thing) a man can say in that moment: “No, dear, not at all,” in a voice with just a touch of fear.
Here’s the ugly truth about running: I doesn’t make you lose weight. Let me alter that slightly: It doesn’t make ME lose weight. It seems so unfair that even when I run 12, 16, 18 miles; I don’t lose a single pound. My pants DO fit better. My legs LOOK better, but that’s about it. Everyone I convince to run usually does lose weight, which allows me to practice my evil-eye.
So, what’s the deal?
A recent Runner’s World magazine article titled “What’s Your Ideal Weight?” said:
“There’s no denying healthy runners will race about 2 seconds per mile faster for every pound they lose. . . the less weight you carry around, the more miles per gallon you get from oxygen.” This applies to runners with a healthy BMI, between 18.5 and 24.9. If you drop below 18.5, you’re at risk for becoming weaker and slower.
As with all things running these days, I turned to Team in Training coach Barb for some information. She passed along an article from nutritionist, Nancy Clark (Board Certified Specialist in Sports Dietetics). An excerpt:
“Why “quick weight loss” is a fantasy
While the promise of quick weight loss is enticing, runners who lose weight quickly on a severe diet inevitably regain the weight, if not more. That’s because the body overcompensates for extreme dieting with overeating. You will never win the war against hunger…
Hunger is physiological. Just as your body needs to breathe, urinate and sleep, your body also needs to eat. Urges to overeat (that is, blow your diet) often have less to do with will power and more to do with the physiology of hunger. Just as you will gasp for air after having been trapped under-water without oxygen, you will devour food after having been denied calories during a crash diet (or after a long run, for that matter). Yes, you can white-knuckle yourself to stick to your crash diet, but your well-meaning plan to quickly shed some pounds has a high likelihood of exploding into a demoralizing pattern of binge eating followed by yet-another attempt to crash-diet. Don’t go there…. it’s depressing.”
Well, darn. Then…
The better plan is to chip away at slow but steady weight loss, targeting 0.5 to 2 pounds a week. Why, by just knocking off 100 calories at the end of the day (one cookie, one heaping spoonful of ice cream), you can theoretically lose 10 pounds a year. Knock off 200 calories at the end of the day (16 ounces of cola, 4 Oreos), and you’ve lost 20 pounds a year.
Well, I can do 100 calories less a day. Until then, I guess I’ll just be that chubby runner. Recently, the Cooper Aerobics Center (fitness and BMI gurus) released a report that said aerobics fitness (not weight) is a predictor of longevity. It’s better to be fat but fit rather than lean and out of shape. And anyone that runs 26.2 miles is definately, without question, in shape.
Make no mistake; I am a “real runner”. So are you. In my book, that has nothing to do with your size, your weight, or your speed. To be a runner, you just need to put one foot in front of the other and cross the finish line. See you there.
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Com-mit-ment: noun (1) an act of committing to a charge or cause (2) an agreement or a pledge to do something
Reading this definition started me pondering about commitment in our world today. In my head, it started sounding a lot like my dad’s stories: “when I was your age, I had to walk to school. Up Hill. In the snow.”
I’m too young to talk about the past that way, but here I am thinking it. Are we ever really committed to anything? I mean REALLY committed?
For me, commitment must come with consequence. If you break your commitment, whatever role you were supposed to play, whatever job you were supposed to do: it won’t get done. When you’re fundraising for cancer, those consequences are significant. Families that need help won’t get it. Research won’t happen. Cures won’t be found.
We had recommitment night for the ING Georgia Marathon last night. For Team in Training, this means two things: (1) You must have 25% of your fundraising done, and (2) you should be on target in your running schedule.
This is it. There’s no turning back. I signed my name on the line. From here on out, it’s full force ahead. In a wishy-washy, gray-area world, the solid commitment feels good. It stretches out before me like a long road just begging for a run.
Speaking of fundraising, I still have $1,000 to go. You can donate here: http://pages.teamintraining.org/ga/Georgia10/jwolfe
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Tuesday night, I stepped onto a track for the first time since high school. The squishy rubber and bright lights started giving me flashbacks:
-Our track at McEachern High School backed up to a pasture. For some reason, instead of being afraid of the starting gun, the cows were attracted by the sound. Every track meet, they would line the fence like a mooing cheering squad.
-One time, I took so long getting into my blocks, the other team’s track coach yelled at me. It flustered me so much I had a false start. He yelled at me more. Since then, getting into starting blocks makes me break into a sweat.
-It was team picture day and my uniform was rumpled on the floor. I ironed it. It melted. There was a big hole in my shorts. Funny thing is, I can’t remember what happened. Certainly, I didn’t stand in the back row with my hiney hanging out. Or maybe I did and I’ve just blocked it out.
My Team in Training Coach tells me track workouts will play a huge role in getting me to my goal of a sub-four hour marathon. If you’re like me, most of you have not had a track workout in a long time (maybe ever). Here’s what you missed:
-Short strides. Instead of taking long, loping strides, long-distance runners should take shorter, faster strides. From Coach Barb: “Basically the theory states that the slower you take steps, the longer time you spend in the air. The longer you’re in the air, the more you displace your body mass and the harder you hit the ground on landing. This can lead to injury and also demands more from your leg muscles.” You should aim for 90 strides (that’s 2 steps, so count every time your right foot hits) in 60 seconds. This works and has changed the way I run.
-Run on egg shells. Sometimes, I hear myself running and I sound like an elephant. This is bad. Running lightly is (obviously) easier on your ankles, knees, and hips. You do this my rolling with your foot. Think heel, mid-sole, toe in a fluid rolling motion.
-Pick-Ups. We ran a series of 100 meter runs, starting slow, speeding up to 80%, then recovering. In this exercise I made a discovery: I am not fast. It’s possible I was never really fast, it’s just that golden hue of memories that make things look better than they were. Still, it’s kind of strange. I can run for a long time at a pretty solid speed, but running fast… well, that’s a whole other issue.
At least my shorts didn’t have a hole burned into them.
I’m eight weeks from standing at the ING Georgia starting line, still more than $1,00o from my goal. Click here to donate to fight cancer. Thanks!
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Sleet bounced off my face, cold puddles riddled my path, and the inconsiderate car splash reached my waist. Wednesday’s five mile run was not what most would call “comfortable”. Two hot showers and a Starbucks later, I’m still trying to figure out why it was so much fun.
It could have been the champagne toast we had at mile two (which I was regretting by mile three).
It could have been the company. Seven Team in Training runners showed up despite the storm.
But, really, I think it’s because I did it. I could have made an excuse (it’s too dark/cold/snowy/late), but I didn’t. I’ve learned there’s always an excuse. Some of these excuses are valid. Too bad. You have to refuse to excuse. It’s the only way you’ll ever get your marathon training done. (This is a conversation I have inside my head at least once a week.)
And that brings me to New Year’s Resolutions. This morning, 11Alive Meteorologist Ashley McDonald said, “I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions, so I don’t break them.” The last few years, as I’ve wandered the streets for MOS (Man on The Street) interviews, more and more people are telling me they don’t make resolutions. It makes sense: if you want to do something, why wait until January 1st to make it happen?
I am not one of those people. For some reason, I have a bit of an obsession with New Year’s resolutions. So, here’s my list this year:
1) Wear more hats in 2010. They’re so snuggly. This means I will likely have hat hair more often. I’m OK with that.
2) Run a 4 hour marathon. I think this is do-able, but just barely. Talk to me after my 20 mile run.
3) Drop a pant size. I have lots of pants hanging in my closet I’d like to wear again.
4) Do something nice for someone else EVERY SINGLE DAY.
5) Learn to speak Spanish.
Hats are easy. Everything else… well, I’ll let you know. Happy New Year’s Eve! Just because you celebrate Thursday doesn’t mean you can skip your long run Saturday. Don’t start 2010 with an excuse. If you do, you’ll soon find a year full of them.
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It all started with a tweet.
“Hey Julie, what would you say ab taking your TNT experience to the radio airwaves?”
Radio is like TV except no one is going to e-mail me about how bad my hair looks (oh, the stories I could tell). So, I’m in.
So, just a few days before Christmas Mary Liebman (TNT staffer), Barb Stinson (ING Coach), and me are sharing a roomy booth with Q100’s Matt Jones. For 20 minutes we chat about Team in Training. Mary talks about fundraising, Barb talks about coaching, and I talk about how great Mary and Barb are.
The twenty minute community segment plus some 60 second spots will run on Cumulus radio stations (like Q100) in January. I think they jumped the gun though because I just got an e-mail: “I totally heard you on the radio yesterday morning! I don’t know if it was live or a replay of an earlier broadcast, but it was pretty cool.”
It’s the first time I’ve been called cool since perhaps 5th grade. So, obviously, this is a big success.
If you hear the spot and are inspired to join, visit: http://www.teamintraining.org/ga/. If you want to e-mail me to tell me how bad my hair looks: jwolfe@11alive.com. If you feel pity that I actually get those kinds of e-mails, you can make it up to me by donating to my TNT fundraising efforts by clicking here.
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I celebrated an early Christmas with my two little nephews last week. I am still recovering, but I did pick up some running advice along the way.
Running is Glee. When my 2-year-old nephew runs, his little legs are just a blur and he lets out this high-pitched shrieking giggle. It is pure joy. Granted… he is usually running away from me… but his obvious glee is contagious. I enjoy a run AFTER it’s over. The sense of accomplishment is what makes me feel good about running, but after watching my nephew, I vow to enjoy the run itself more.
Gravity is the Enemy. Sometimes we make this running thing too complicated. Set me loose in a running store and I will convince myself I cannot run without the latest fancy GPS, iPod tracker, shoes, socks, tights, hat, shorts, bra, underwear, hand warmers. Running is really quite simple: put one foot in front of the other. The only enemy in runing (or even walking) is gravity: just watch my 8-month-old nephew learn to walk. But as long as you cross the finish line upright (almost everyone does), you beat gravity. And now that you know your chances are pretty good, it’s all a matter of degrees.
Purell is the Nectar of the Gods. I thought my sister (and all those moms) with bottles of Purell attached to everything were going a little overboard. I mean, I didn’t have that wimpy hand sanitizer when I was a kid and I turned out just fine, right? So, during my week with the nephews, I washed my hands religiously (like I always do), but I didn’t really partake in the 6-times-daily Purell rub…. And I got really, really sick. There are few things more frustrating to a runner than being sidelined. After six days without running, I’ve changed my mind. I’m willing to do anything I can to get better and stay well for the rest of my ING Training. So, pass the Purell, please.
Click here to find out how you can help Team in Training.
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I’m very nervous about this weekend. I’m cheating for the first time … on my shoes.
As I stare at my beat up Asics, I remember all the good times. We’ve run through a marathon, another Peachtree, all those rainy/snowy/sunny days. I look into that gray soul. I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.
OK, that’s a lie. It’s you. You’re old. You’re dirty. You’re just not the same shoe. So, I’m upgrading.
After a short afternoon run, I headed to The Big Peach Running Company to search for my new soul mate. (Just to be clear- I love our local running stores, but in the past, I’ve bought running gear from every place from Phidippides to Dick’s to Target—and once, a garage sale.)
When you buy running shoes from a running store, it’s a bit like a visit to your doctor’s office. First, an exam, and then a diagnosis. It can be a little embarrassing if you’re as self-conscious about your run as I am.
First, you take off your shoes. (OK, maybe I should have done this BEFORE my afternoon run.) You stand on a foot digital analysis machine. It measures different pressure points that show up on a big screen in a rainbow of red, orange, and blue. The very helpful employee used one of those screen pens that sportscasters use to draw lines on the TV. I felt like my feet were on ESPN.
Then, you lace on a pair of shoes and run on a treadmill. A camera tapes your run so you can figure out what shoes are best for your gait. This is where it got a little weird.
See, I don’t do treadmills. I think in a past life, I must have died in a terrible, painful treadmill accident. It’s the only way to explain why I hate them so much. It’s probably been eight years since I stepped on one. So, my treadmill run is awkward and uncomfortable. When my taped run was clearly inconsistent (over pronating…no, wait… neutral… no wait…hmmmm), I fessed up: I can’t run on a treadmill. So, we went outside.
I ran back and forth in front of the store. Through seven pairs of shoes. The woman working the counter at the Dry Cleaners next door waved at me once. Each time, the helpful employee was closely watching my run, making assessments, asking questions. The Exam was complete. Now the surprise diagnosis.
The shoe brand I’ve been wearing since my first marathon was not the shoe that felt best. It’s a weird attachment perhaps only a runner can understand. But leaving behind my brand makes me very nervous. If it’s not broke, why fix it; right? Except it’s not that simple. Shoe companies constantly change their styles. They are called upgrades. Some runners would disagree.
So here I am with my shiny new shoes. I find them very attractive, but we don’t know each other very well. I’m having real trust issues. Our first date is tonight. No candlelit dinners, just a three mile run. I’m jumping right in. They always say: you can’t get over the old one until you fall in love with the new one, right?
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As I was signing on the line, I thought: there’s no going back now.
Then they gave me these things that are like purple leg warmers except for your arms. When someone gives you sleeves, there’s REALLY no going back. Yes, I am wearing them right now while I’m writing this blog. I need to keep my muscles warm so I don’t pull something lifting this stack of paperwork.
I am now a member of Team in Training (I’ll pause here so you can add a “woo-hoo!”).
My first run-in with Team in Training was a purple blur. I was running my very first marathon when a pack of violet-clad runners passed me. It seemed like a hodge-podge group of people… strange they were all dressed alike. And I kept seeing them: the silver-haired couple jogging with a smile (who smiles in a marathon?!), pony-tailed girls in purple shorts, a woman with a shaved head. That’s when I realized they were more than a running group.
Team in Training raises money for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. In 2008, more than 40,000 participants raised $85 Million. If imitation is the best form of flattery, TNT should be blushing. Since 1988, other non-profits have copied their successful model. Each participant is required to raise a specific amount of money (for the ING, it’s $1800). The group trains together in the months leading up to the run. TNT provides coaches, direction, and fundraising help.
As a runner, you just can’t ignore TNT: they’re everywhere. I finally jumped on the wagon this week for a simple reason: they asked.
A Team in Training staff member read my blog on the Zooma Run, and asked me to sign on with them for the ING Georgia Marathon. I ran it past my producers and… voila! Here we are. Me and my purple sleeves.
In the next four months I know I’ll meet amazing people, log hundreds of miles, and probably suffer a few blisters. But marathons always bring the unexpected. I hope you’ll join me for the ride. I’ll be posting frequent updates here on 11aliveblogs.com. You can also follow me on Twitter: @JulieWolfe.
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This is part of a web report series. I run local 5Ks, 10Ks, half marathons (perhaps an occasional full). You can follow me on race day on Twitter @JulieWolfe. I’ll post my race reviews on 11aliveblogs.com. E-mail me with ideas for upcoming races: jwolfe@11alive.com.
This Sunday (11/8/09) was year two for the Zooma Atlanta, and it’s quickly becoming one of my favorite races. Zooma is a women’s race series that now includes Austin, Denver, Annapolis, and Atlanta. Brae Bradley started the series to empower women to live active, healthy, happy lives. Men are allowed (even encouraged) to join. But there’s no hiding it: this race is all about girl power.
COURSE: There is a 5K (more about that later) and a Half-Marathon (which is what I ran). The 13.1 mile course starts at Atlantic Station runs through downtown to Turner Field and ends back at Atlantic Station. This course shows you a true Atlanta: the good, the bad, and the ugly. You run by the Georgia Dome where you can smell tailgaters getting ready for the game; neighborhoods that are breathing life back into the area around Centennial Park, and Atlantic Station: proof you can turn a brownfield into a destination. But you also run down Trinity where homeless are huddled with pillows in empty doorways; around potholes that mark most of the course; and a leaking water pipe (what’s more Atlanta?!). It went by fast for me and I enjoyed the run, finishing in 2 hours, 4 minutes.
For the 5K review, I consulted by co-worker and first time EVER 5K runner, Duffie Dixon. The night before, she told me her goal was to finish ahead of one person: “even if it’s a little old lady”. She said the 5K course was great, the volunteers were awesome. Her only complaint: “I really wish there was a porta-pottie on the course.” (Her finish time was under 40 minutes.)
FOOD: It seems like lots of local races are stingy in this area: Not the Zooma. They handed me a fancy chocolate (can’t tell you what it was because I ate it already) at the finish line. They had bananas, apples, and other regular race gear. Panera Bread was a sponsor, so you also got an awesome breakfast sandwich and fruit salad. Runners care about the food (even if they tell you they don’t), and this was as good as I’ve seen at any recent race.
Oh! They also had Luna Sport Chews on the course. I never tried these before and figured “why not?” They tasted good, but were SOOOO chewy and sticky; I tossed them away after one chew. I was still trying to get it out of my teeth when I passed a race photographer; cannot wait to see those photos!
T-SHIRT: Pink, short-sleeve, wicking-material running shirt. It has a cute logo with a peach that kind of looks like a heart. This is clearly, a “girly” shirt; which reinforced the “girl power” feel.
CROWD: It was small enough that it wasn’t crowded, and big enough that there was always someone behind me and in front of me. AKA: perfect size. The course was spotted with mostly men cheering on the mostly female runners. Sons, husbands, boyfriends, and spandex-lovers were cheering runners when they passed. Perhaps the only drawback to this race: very few spectators along the route. Water stop volunteers were your best source of encouragement.
Next Up: Thanksgiving Half-Marathon. See you there!
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