I remember, during high school and college cross country, different instances where boys (okay, men?) would be talking amongst themselves about this or that race coming up and talking about how they were probably going to do really well because this hot chick they were interested in/dating/acquainted with was going to be there. Literally, the exchange would go something like this, "dude, I'm gonna kill it this weekend."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"You know, cuz of the chick factor and all."
"Yeah, totally."
I think the chick factor for *most* American men extends really to any female in the vicinity. And it doesn't just refer to wanting to perform well in front of some particular woman to impress her. It also seems to have something to do with being better than any particular woman. I can't even count how many times I've been out on the trail in the States, passed some dude running--no matter the size/age/fitness of the dude because I've experienced this same thing with all of them--and that dude obviously immediately speeds up so I can't pass or passes me back often to simply end up walking 5 minutes later. Now, this of course, does not apply to every man in the States. In fact, my own husband does not mind and is even proud and supportive when I beat him running. But there is no denying this is a general trend. It seems almost pervasive.
Once, Tim and I were having dinner with one of his guy friends when we ran into one of our girlfriends. Tim's friend was obviously interested--our girlfriend is good looking, friendly, intelligent and charming. He was interested...until he heard she was a great climber. He said, "oh, I could never date someone who climbs harder than me." This guy has not climbed since high school.
Really?
He hasn't been climbing since high school, yet he would not consider dating a girl who climbs often and is quite good, because she would be better than him and he couldn't handle that. This is just one example.
I assumed all men all over the world were this way. I especially thought it to be true of a more macho society. Imagine my surprise when, still, every time I'm running uphill on the trail and pass a guy on a bike, he just keeps going at his same pace. No speed up. No oh-my-god-a-girl-is-beating-me-AND-I'm-on-a-bike surge up the hill. Nothing. Many men in the States would simply implode with the shame of being passed by a girl on foot. This seems to go for men out running here as well. Plenty of times I've passed men running and they give NO notice to me. No one tries to beat me. No one tries to hang onto my pace.
I can't help but wonder what lies beneath these two societies that brings out these attitudes of better/not better. On the one hand, we have a society where women have ALMOST the same freedoms and rights as men--at least we say we do. Yet men will give themselves heart attacks to prove they can run/bike/swim/climb/whatever better than any given woman. On the other hand you have a society where women have far fewer freedoms and rights than men and really can't even walk around by themselves without being harassed by men. Yet men in this society don't care if a woman beats them in some measure of athletic prowess. Why is that? Is it because they don't need validation? They already *know* they're "better" and don't need to prove it to the world? Why do men in the States feel like they have to prove themselves in this way?
This is just one of the many things I get lost in while I'm out on the trail.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
One down....one to go!
I just finished my first race. The Outward Bound Wilderness Colorado Relay! I ran 174 miles from Georgetown to Carbondale over Guanella, Georgia and Vail passes with my team of 10 very cool women all ranging in different ability levels. Ok. i didn't run all 174 miles but i did run 13.5 of it. I'm energized, psyched, tired and contemplating my next race on Sunday. I'm not sure exactly what to eat, how many miles to run this week or if I'm completely crazy for even thinking about running a half marathon a week after the relay race. My philosophy is do what feels best. I did a 2.5 hour hike the day after the race to get the lactic acid out of my muscles, which totally worked! So I'm resting today and plan on doing some easy runs on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Rest Saturday and win the race on Sun. Ok. maybe not win but we'll just say I will participate and hopefully finish within the 7 hour time limit. Ha.
For those of you whom have not run in a race and are terrified, let me tell you it is an absolute blast. People are amazingly supportive and energized and I promise you wont be sorry you did it. I'm addicted.
Keep running ladies, even if you are running with the enemy or you are trying to burn off the double cheeseburger that you ate cuz it just felt right.
PS: Any suggestions about food consumption before (morning and night) a half marathon would be greatly appreciated!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Boobs watching Tubes
Ahh, sadly to say such is life in American media these days. I know, I know, I am young, living in a city where the world has its attention focused. The shrub is wilting, and the masses are aligning themselves behind Their chosen one. I should be energized and encouraged, filled with the spirit of hope, empowered by the inevitable change; but as doldrum of American media forces me down to the level of farm animals in drag (!?) I must admit I am loosing focus....but not for the reason you think....I've signed up for my first race, sponsored by no less than the National Press Club. The exclusive click that is populated by the good, bad, and the ugly.
How can I possibly succeed in my over due goal (5K in 30) while I am surrounded by politicians and intelligence sucking news persons who seem to enjoy focusing on the trivial (real journalists, NPR reporters, FP contributors and bloggers, as well as a multitude of others excepted). Not only do I have to run with them (or in my case chug along at a pace that does not leave me gasping for breath); but then we break bread (hello opulent pancake breakfast at the club); and participate in a time honored tradition of getting money from anyone and everyone (a silent charity auction).
Cross your fingers ladies and make a wish that (at least for the next several months) those oglers at the gym reassert their attention back to my boobs rather than turning into boobs themselves, sucked into, hanging off of, affirming and accepting every word that floats out of the media frenzy.
How can I possibly succeed in my over due goal (5K in 30) while I am surrounded by politicians and intelligence sucking news persons who seem to enjoy focusing on the trivial (real journalists, NPR reporters, FP contributors and bloggers, as well as a multitude of others excepted). Not only do I have to run with them (or in my case chug along at a pace that does not leave me gasping for breath); but then we break bread (hello opulent pancake breakfast at the club); and participate in a time honored tradition of getting money from anyone and everyone (a silent charity auction).
Cross your fingers ladies and make a wish that (at least for the next several months) those oglers at the gym reassert their attention back to my boobs rather than turning into boobs themselves, sucked into, hanging off of, affirming and accepting every word that floats out of the media frenzy.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Caloric Pontifications
It's sort of funny, but I've been meaning to post about food and issues associated with, when I saw a new post at a blog I read about the very same thing. I love this blog from a friend of Katie's, who is training for an Ironman--wow. Just wow. And it reminded me I haven't expounded upon my recent revelations about food yet.
When Tim and I are in the mountains, I often bonk. And I can bonk hard, too. It's something I've only been recently overtly aware of. I've bonked running before, but never during a race or run or workout--only after. Usually it only happens after a race as it's really hard for me to eat before competition. So that always made sense.
But the mountain thing was really perplexing. I can usually feel it coming and am sure to stop everyone so I can eat before we have a "situation," but it's still hard to recover from an especially severe bonk.
When we came back from Peru, I did a little investigating. I noticed that our first climbing day, we motored up the approach after some granola and sugary milk for breakfast. Within about 3 hours I was already bonking and needing frequent gel stops. The second day, when we actually succeeded, we took it entirely differently. We had the same breakfast, but we stopped often for food and water. After the summit, on the way down, we continued to eat--peanut butter and nutella sandwhiches and bars, blocks and gu. Way more food than I usually eat. But I felt like I needed even more. Right after eating a sandwhich, I still felt a little out of it.
Later, a simple calorie calculator told me that climbing with a pack on for 8 hours is about equivalent to 5,000 calories burned. WHAT? Factor in altitude and how hard I work to get back down, and we're looking at 7,000-8,000 calories burned in just 8 hours. Normal people my size who excercise are supposed to consume about 2,000 calories a day. This is about what I consume.
I don't know about you, but I gagged a little bit when I heard that Michael Phelps consumes 10,000 calories on competition days. The thought of eating that much makes me ill. I don't know how it's physically possible to consume enough to keep a high level of energy in the mountains. Eating often helped--I even got a summit, but I never felt good and the amount we were consuming was pushing it for me.
Just like any normal female, and maybe especially female athlete, I have always had a strained relationship with food. I am always thinking about food and my size and how I look compared to others. I mentally punish myself or congratulate myself according to what I've eatten that day. Lately, I don't avoid what I want, but I sure as hell feel guilty about it. Difficult relationships with food go hand-in-hand with middle distance running for females--it's actually not that hard to starve yourself and still do relatively well. But when you move into endurance sports, all bets are off. There's just no way to do what you want without the right amount of fuel.
Tim has a favorite story he loves to tell vegetarians about me. We were out one spring day, skinning up and skiing down a 14er in Colorado. I was doing it on half a bagel sandwhich and so was lightly bonking all day. At the time, I wasn't eating red-meat at all, and very little meat in general. By the time we got to the bottom, all I could think of was a huge, juicy cheeseburger. I didn't get one that night, but I did dream (and I mean obsessively) of them for a solid week before I finally had one and became a life-convert. This was my first big lesson in caloric consumption in the moutains.
And so, now, as I move into totally new running territory, I have to wonder, what is the right amount for me? What can I handle without flipping out? Can I physically consume enough that it won't be an issue? Will I consume too much and balloon? Can I allow myself to healthily get what I need to do I want? Stay tuned--we'll see. . .
When Tim and I are in the mountains, I often bonk. And I can bonk hard, too. It's something I've only been recently overtly aware of. I've bonked running before, but never during a race or run or workout--only after. Usually it only happens after a race as it's really hard for me to eat before competition. So that always made sense.
But the mountain thing was really perplexing. I can usually feel it coming and am sure to stop everyone so I can eat before we have a "situation," but it's still hard to recover from an especially severe bonk.
When we came back from Peru, I did a little investigating. I noticed that our first climbing day, we motored up the approach after some granola and sugary milk for breakfast. Within about 3 hours I was already bonking and needing frequent gel stops. The second day, when we actually succeeded, we took it entirely differently. We had the same breakfast, but we stopped often for food and water. After the summit, on the way down, we continued to eat--peanut butter and nutella sandwhiches and bars, blocks and gu. Way more food than I usually eat. But I felt like I needed even more. Right after eating a sandwhich, I still felt a little out of it.
Later, a simple calorie calculator told me that climbing with a pack on for 8 hours is about equivalent to 5,000 calories burned. WHAT? Factor in altitude and how hard I work to get back down, and we're looking at 7,000-8,000 calories burned in just 8 hours. Normal people my size who excercise are supposed to consume about 2,000 calories a day. This is about what I consume.
I don't know about you, but I gagged a little bit when I heard that Michael Phelps consumes 10,000 calories on competition days. The thought of eating that much makes me ill. I don't know how it's physically possible to consume enough to keep a high level of energy in the mountains. Eating often helped--I even got a summit, but I never felt good and the amount we were consuming was pushing it for me.
Just like any normal female, and maybe especially female athlete, I have always had a strained relationship with food. I am always thinking about food and my size and how I look compared to others. I mentally punish myself or congratulate myself according to what I've eatten that day. Lately, I don't avoid what I want, but I sure as hell feel guilty about it. Difficult relationships with food go hand-in-hand with middle distance running for females--it's actually not that hard to starve yourself and still do relatively well. But when you move into endurance sports, all bets are off. There's just no way to do what you want without the right amount of fuel.
Tim has a favorite story he loves to tell vegetarians about me. We were out one spring day, skinning up and skiing down a 14er in Colorado. I was doing it on half a bagel sandwhich and so was lightly bonking all day. At the time, I wasn't eating red-meat at all, and very little meat in general. By the time we got to the bottom, all I could think of was a huge, juicy cheeseburger. I didn't get one that night, but I did dream (and I mean obsessively) of them for a solid week before I finally had one and became a life-convert. This was my first big lesson in caloric consumption in the moutains.
And so, now, as I move into totally new running territory, I have to wonder, what is the right amount for me? What can I handle without flipping out? Can I physically consume enough that it won't be an issue? Will I consume too much and balloon? Can I allow myself to healthily get what I need to do I want? Stay tuned--we'll see. . .
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Hey Ladies
Thanks for letting me join your blog (I feel so cool now). I am training for the NYC marathon in November. This is my second marathon and I always have pain in my left knee from about 8 miles and on. I have tried the glucosamine supplements, but they didn't work. Now I am trying the strap that sits under your knee. Supposedly that will help. Have any of you tried it? Any other suggestions?
Happy Running,
Alex
Happy Running,
Alex
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Sunday
I forgot that the starts of races here smell like an old locker-room. That was the first thing that took me back to high school cross country: the overpowering surge of "Icy Hot" in my nostrils every time I took a breath. Wow.
And of course they were playing the Rocky theme. Over and over again. Our coaches used to make motivational tapes for us and there was Rocky, every year, prominently located within the first 5 songs. Honestly, they were interspersing Rocky with some song about a girl kissing a girl, which I thought was pretty funny. I wondered how many people packed onto the road could understand what the song was about. But it was catchy and had a nice beat, so I bounced around to it to keep warm and tried not to choke on the smell of Ben-gay.
Once again, there were no waves. However, there were "pacers" who were each carrying a huge yellow balloon that listed their pace. For example, the first balloon said 3:30 or something crazy like that (this is pace per kilometer, lovely States readers). But, in true Latin style, the 6:00 pacer balloon was lined up in the starting area way behind the 7:00 balloon. Of course the whole idea is that they line up in order, and the runners arrange themselves around what they know their pace to be. Excellent plan, right? I thought so too, until, standing beside the 6:00 balloon guy, I looked back and saw a 4:00 balloon. Whatever. We'll just run.
Nike's fun little race provided a nice technical running shirt as the race shirt. This shirt was also our race number, eliminating the search for safety pins. Genius! And we were a sea of red which looks super cool when you're on a long stretch of road and you can see way ahead of you. Everybody looked the same. Except for the poachers, of course. But some of them tried to match and wore red t-shirts, which I thought was cute. Everyone knows they won't be pulled off the course, but I noted the effort and appreciated.
After the hand-sweat grab-fest that was Ultimas Noticias 15k, I chose to skip the water and single cooler Gatorade stops. I run this distance all the time without drinking and it's cold and humid here. No water needed.
As far as how I did, well, I was wearing a chip so didn't think too much of it when I crossed the start line a full 4 minutes after the start. But Nike has my time as though I started at the gun--to which, I ask, why the chip? Whatever. For all intents and purposes, my time was 57 minutes. I felt good and consistent and pretty strong the whole time, and after all the Rocky fanfare, I was feeling quite high and light, flashing back to the good ole days. I was worried I wouldn't be able to break an hour because I have not run this distance in well over a month. So I decided I'm happy with how it went. It helped that I didn't have to come home with ketchup and actually got a Nutri-Grain bar in my goodie sack which I promptly ate.
Our race began at 7:30. By 9 I was back home and getting back in the bed to snuggle with my little family and dream about my plan of attack for the coming months.
And of course they were playing the Rocky theme. Over and over again. Our coaches used to make motivational tapes for us and there was Rocky, every year, prominently located within the first 5 songs. Honestly, they were interspersing Rocky with some song about a girl kissing a girl, which I thought was pretty funny. I wondered how many people packed onto the road could understand what the song was about. But it was catchy and had a nice beat, so I bounced around to it to keep warm and tried not to choke on the smell of Ben-gay.
Once again, there were no waves. However, there were "pacers" who were each carrying a huge yellow balloon that listed their pace. For example, the first balloon said 3:30 or something crazy like that (this is pace per kilometer, lovely States readers). But, in true Latin style, the 6:00 pacer balloon was lined up in the starting area way behind the 7:00 balloon. Of course the whole idea is that they line up in order, and the runners arrange themselves around what they know their pace to be. Excellent plan, right? I thought so too, until, standing beside the 6:00 balloon guy, I looked back and saw a 4:00 balloon. Whatever. We'll just run.
Nike's fun little race provided a nice technical running shirt as the race shirt. This shirt was also our race number, eliminating the search for safety pins. Genius! And we were a sea of red which looks super cool when you're on a long stretch of road and you can see way ahead of you. Everybody looked the same. Except for the poachers, of course. But some of them tried to match and wore red t-shirts, which I thought was cute. Everyone knows they won't be pulled off the course, but I noted the effort and appreciated.
After the hand-sweat grab-fest that was Ultimas Noticias 15k, I chose to skip the water and single cooler Gatorade stops. I run this distance all the time without drinking and it's cold and humid here. No water needed.
As far as how I did, well, I was wearing a chip so didn't think too much of it when I crossed the start line a full 4 minutes after the start. But Nike has my time as though I started at the gun--to which, I ask, why the chip? Whatever. For all intents and purposes, my time was 57 minutes. I felt good and consistent and pretty strong the whole time, and after all the Rocky fanfare, I was feeling quite high and light, flashing back to the good ole days. I was worried I wouldn't be able to break an hour because I have not run this distance in well over a month. So I decided I'm happy with how it went. It helped that I didn't have to come home with ketchup and actually got a Nutri-Grain bar in my goodie sack which I promptly ate.
Our race began at 7:30. By 9 I was back home and getting back in the bed to snuggle with my little family and dream about my plan of attack for the coming months.
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