chords and cadence

Another runner's writ

Archive for the tag “Therapy”

11 Reasons I love the treadmill (and you can, too!)

In the fitness/running world, ‘treadmill’ is often synonymous with ‘suck.’ FullSizeRender (2)

In the runners’ world, it’s affectionately nicknamed the ‘dreadmill.’ Clever.

There are multiple articles touting the shame you should feel for using the treadmill, why you should always run outside instead. There’s even a Pinterest page dedicated to the dreadmill. And that’s okay; I get it.

I’m a runner, that’s no secret. But what is? I love the treadmill. Especially this time of year.

Here are reasons why I love the treadmill (and you can too!)

1. I can completely zone out: Dial in my speed (7.0mph for a slower day, 7.2 for a normal, and 7.7-8.0 if I’m feeling fast); swipe to my go-to playlist of the week, and have at it. I don’t have to think about which route to take (which is good for an indecisive one like me), if I’ll get lost or go too far before I run out of fuel or sidewalk. I just plug in and go.

2. People watching. There is usually always someone entertaining at the gym to watch. The dancing dude with a bandana who’s probably rocking out to Guns & Roses, the old lady reading Home & Garden on the elliptical while her husband tries hopelessly to get in the groove beside her, old friends saying ‘hi’ to each other and shooting playful jabs… it’s good people watching while you work out. Entertainment enough. There’s also the mental wish list I make when I see cute workout clothes I want.

3. Pure safety. Nashville doesn’t have the safest streets (read: no sidewalks in a lot of neighborhoods). It’s safe to use the treadmill; I won’t get hit by a car or end up in the wrong part of town. Especially when I have to run at night and solo night running makes me uneasy, the treadmill can be a godsend.

4. Hill interval workouts. I can perfectly dial in my incline, set myself at a certain challenging speed, turn up my music and settle in to the discomfort. I can focus on challenging myself just a little better because I have control over the elements of my workout. I usually come up with my own pyramid workout, but if you need some ideas, this is a good place to start and modify to fit your goals and abilities.

5. The fan. With high and low settings, it’s dreamy and feels stupidly luxurious.

treadmill-racing6. It can push you, if you let it. Wanna push yourself to get faster? Set it at a certain speed and work on sustaining that speed for 60-90 seconds. HIIT workouts are the BOMB on the treadmill, taking the guess work out of pacing. If you don’t have a track nearby, the treadmill can be vital to work on your speed.

7. I can check myself out. Before you get all judgy, here me out: I can check my form in the mirror and see where I’m a little off-balance. Helps a ton, truly. You wouldn’t want to lift weights in a room with no mirrors all the time because proper form is important, right? Same with running. Take a chance to check your form.

8. I nerd out on the numbers. Sure, I have my Garmin when I run outside, but I love the data presented to me on the treadmill without having to slow down (heaven forbid, right?!). I can see my average pace, if I need to kick it up a notch, see how far I’ve gone, and my incline percentage. It’s the only time I love numbers.

9. Beverages. I’m talking Nuun water, coffee, tea… the cup holder is plain awesome. I’ve ran with all three before on the treadmill feeling spoiled for getting to do so. You just can’t run with coffee without looking like you’re late for something.

10. Asphalt sucks sometimes. Face it: constantly pounding the pavement can be not-so-friendly on your joints. Show ’em some love by getting on a more forgiving surface like the treadmill (or trails).

11. Because it’s better than not running. When I’m faced with running in the rain, sleet, bitter cold, sometimes I can turn on my beast mode and do it. But sometimes I just really don’t want to, or it’s unsafe. A lot of times, I can only run at night and stories of runners (read: women runners) being assaulted/kidnapped/even killed rightfully frighten me.  What am I gonna do? Not run? No, thanks. I’d rather keep my sanity. The treadmill is a privilege, really.TreadmillHC

I’m not saying every workout on the treadmill is sunshine and roses. More like fluorescent lights and sweat. But it gets the job done, at the end of the day, when I’d rather not be outside, which isn’t often.

Show the treadmill some soleful spirit instead of disdain. And stop calling it the dreadmill. Name calling is rude.

Happy running!

32 reasons I run (and I’m not getting over it)

I really don’t want to do this. But as a runner, and a writer, I simply must.

I’m going against myself to give MORE attention to an inane article (and poorly written at that) published on the Wall Street Journal titled “OK, You’re a Runner. Get Over It.” Basically, the writer makes an outcry about how people who run, like to run, and like to express it via social media, their bumper stickers, or choice of clothing. (Ha!)

Instead of inciting anger or rendering me doubtful about why I do what I do, the article made me laugh and pity Couch Potato Chad Stafko. Good thing there are programs for reversing that…

Not ones to sit down and stay quiet, the running community went a little vocal when this came out. Instead of writing an argumentative piece counteracting all of Chad’s statements, however, I’d like to thank him first. His article did make me feel a little nuts for loving running so much, but you know, I’ve been looking for what sets me apart from all the other blonde 20-somethings working in the bluegrass music industry. Being nuts is a good identifier. So thanks for the exercise in self-identity, Chad.

I appreciate his article, too, because it made me contemplate the reasons why I run, and why I love it. So in our list-driven world, I’m contributing mine: 32 reasons I run (and I’m not getting over it).

1. It’s free

2. I get to shed femininity and spit and snot rocket and other non-feminine things

3. I genuinely enjoy working up a sweat

4. Post-run beers

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A nice Highlander after my first marathon in Asheville, North Carolina.

5. I have witnessed more beautiful sunrises and sunsets than I can keep track of or Instagram

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At my favorite place, Percy Warner.

6. Getting my nature fix. Because nature is neat.

7. The opportune moment when you pass another runner and give each other high fives

8. Hills

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Real live hill on a 6k trail race course. Brutal. Badass.

9. Stairs

10. Views

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Chattanooga, Tennessee

11. Heroes, and chances to meet them

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Olympian and CU Buff Alum, Kara Goucher and me at the Country Music Marathon Expo, April 2013

12. Weight loss/management (special note: Since I seriously took up running, I’ve lost 30 pounds.)

13. My Garmin

14. Free swag at races

15. Free food and drinks at races (pshhh race fees. shhh!)

16. Running friends who like to talk about running with you, and you don’t feel like you’re boring/confusing them

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These are my awesome East Nasty friends after we just finished a 5k and were looking for beer and food, but we were so fast that it was still so early and nothing was open yet.

17. An excuse to wear a headlamp

18. More showers

19. Exploring new places

20. IT’S THE MOST FUN THING TO BRAG ABOUT EVER, so deal, because I’m not gonna stop

21. Every month I get Runner’s World in the mail, which isn’t bills, bills, bills.

22. Tech t-shirts

23. New shoes every few months

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24. Empty streets early in the morning

25. Running past graduations, circuses, parades, food truck festivals (a lesson in always carrying cash!), proposals, breakups, and many very nice and vocal homeless citizens. Been there, done that

26. Jamming out to music like Foo Fighters, Neil Young, and Tom Petty, and learning all the words because you never rotate their “Greatest Hits” off your playlist

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Dave Grohl, whom I adore.

27. Playlists

28. Athletic wear, because I wish I could get away with wearing tights and Oiselle ALL the time (something of which Stafko totally doesn’t get, which must really suck for him)

29. It gives me something to write about (ahem, hence this blog)

30. I have to do something better than my boyfriend, because he’s really good at a lot of things

31. Two words: Foam. Roller.

32. I really enjoy pancakes, and I also really enjoy being a size 4

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Best ones in Nashville are at the Pancake Pantry, mark my word!

Sorry I have to stop there. I could go on. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta run.

Rewind: March (Or, where running tells me: ‘Let’s Stay Together’)

Mileage: <60.

I don’t want to talk about it.

Yes, I ran a marathon… but I also technically started training for my next one.

Yes, I stretched and took time off and cross trained. (I had an affair with the stairmaster but it was just a rebound).

In short, I was humbled by a stupid minor pain and got stuck in a non-running rut. I blame calf problems, but it was also mental (what isn’t?).

Saturday I visited my happy place, finally feeling fresh, optimistic, and ready to tackle at least five miles outside -something I hadn’t done in two weeks, which is for-ev-ER in Taylor World. I strapped my iPhone armband to my right gun bicep, hit Play on the Chris Thile Pandora station, tightened my new kicks, and went.

But… the headphones weren’t happy in my ears. My jacket sleeves felt restrictive. Mile one felt like mile 18. My headband was sliding off. I had a persistent wedgie and I really had to pee (sorry, this is real life).

By mile 1.97 (I assume; I purposefully didn’t track my mileage thank GOD), I just felt off. I was easily distracted. I felt slow.

Squirrels are stupid. The flowers aren’t blooming fast enough. I look dumb in purple. Who told Darius Rucker he could cover ‘Wagon Wheel’ and who decided it sounded good? Why don’t pancakes have zero calories? Does my butt look big in these spandex? Rolling Stones or Beatles? Coffee.

Yikes.

Well, they say relationships take work. So running and I were about to have some alone time (or therapy or counseling or whatever couples use these days to fix their problems).

It was decided that by completely disconnecting from music and numbers (caloric burn, pace, mileage, heart rate) we could get back to basics.

It felt weird and naked, like when you leave your phone at home, or leave clothes in your closet. But then I liked it. (I’ll let you at it on the naked jokes).

I became completely in tune with my stride, breathing, and all-over form. The sun felt warmer on my guns arms. The birds chirping were a welcome sound. I felt more inclined to smile at others. Pace what? iTunes playlist who?!

Mile six showed up before I knew it and I wanted to keep going (like the normal Taylor). But having just fully recovered, I thought it best not to push it. The road would be there tomorrow.

And that’s when I got it: No matter how long you decide to stay in your stupid little rut, whether it’s two silly weeks or 22 not-so-silly years, the road will always be there. The trails will always be there.

Running doesn’t go anywhere unless, of course, you do.

I guess couples’ therapy does work after all.

Running back home

547531_10151349092791469_726117115_nI went back home for Christmas last week.

Back to 7,220 feet above sea level.

Back to thinner air and colder ground.

Back to Ponderosa Pines and granite rock and elk poop in the yard.

Within an hour of pulling into the driveway, I hastily pulled on my full-length spandex, added some YakTrax to the Pearl Izumis and hit the trails like I was back to see an old friend, which they precisely are.

The snow at Elk Meadow had been wind-whipped and the dry air had rendered a crunchy surface. In the places where it wasn’t a little iced over, it sunk up to my shins. It was cold and I was happy.

I didn’t really notice the change in elevation, not too bad anyway. I would later lie and say ‘oh yeah! whew!’ when asked, so I didn’t sound cocky. But those five hilly, snowy miles were the sweetest welcome home.

Fast forward to the next morning… I had an 11 miles ahead of me, per my marathon training schedule. I ran from my parents’ house down to the lake and around it twice, up by my old high school and around the track, up to Three Sisters, through a neighborhood and back down. In the almost 10 years since we lived in that house, I had never ran that route when I could have so many times. I mentally kicked myself (ya jerk!).

As a cross country runner in high school, I had run the same roads, trails, and tracks over and over, usually a little slower than expected by my coaches. My teammates and I had gossiping and flirting to do because we were in high school, after all.

I thought about myself at 15 and 16 and how immature I was. How I didn’t know who I was or what I was going to do about a math test I didn’t plan on studying for. How I had a crush on a guy who went to another high school and it seemed like the end of the world I didn’t see him every day. How I only did cross country because I wasn’t good at any other sports (choir geek right here, y’all). How I never would have believed it if anyone would tell me I was going to run a marathon…ever. The Taylor Eye Roll would have been all  over that one.

I thought about myself now, at 23-and-a-half. I thought about how I finally know who I am and (mostly) what I want. How much I’ve changed, how much I’ve seen of the world, and how much my fingers were freezing (but I wasn’t going to admit it to Mom who told me to dress warmer).

But no matter what I thought about myself, it always came back around to running. It’s been through everything with me, even when I didn’t want it, and especially when I did. It has stuck with me longer through all my ugliness, awkwardness, and biggest life changes.

Going back to Colorado after having moved 1,158 miles away confirmed what I already knew: Running and I are in it for life, you really can go home again, and always listen to Mom when she tells it’s gonna be cold.

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