Why The Lone Ranger Theme Song and Running are a Dangerous
Mix for Me
If you are assuming from the title that this is a post about
songs or a running playlist, then you assume wrongly (assume = makes an ass out of u and me, ha-ha). I kind
of wish it was about that, and kind of don’t because this story is
funnier. No, this is a tale of time crunch running and
its consequences. We’ve all felt that
stress where if one more thing gets loaded onto our plate it feels as though
the plate will shatter. That time for me,
as a teacher and a mama, is the month of May.
Fitting in curriculum (try jamming 1,000 years of history into five
weeks!), coaching soccer, grading, soccer games, kids’ music lessons, birthday
parties…you get it. Even though
everyone’s crazy time has a different flavor, we aaaaaallll get it.
When I have a particularly busy day, I imagine the William
Tell Overture, aka the Lone Ranger Theme Song, playing in my head as I attempt to
juggle all that I am trying to do. Here
is a sample day from a recent weekend (stay with me—I’m going somewhere with
this) where the theme song was on full throttle:
1. Wake up. This was a feat in and of itself.
2. Attempt to look presentable to go out in public w/o showering. Normally this isn’t too difficult, but I ran the evening before and was too pooped afterward to shower. Lookin’ HAWT.
3. Zip to the library to pay two week old fines and renew the books that I somehow think I will have the time to read in the next 3 weeks. My ambition is endless.
4. Take the kidlets to Barnes & Noble to find a gift for my niece whose birthday party was that evening.
5. Make a pit stop at the new Petco. Lose kids in Petco. Find them by the ferrets.
6. Dash into the house with high hopes for a half hour of free
time before going for a run.
7. No dice—son needs help with his math homework so
I cram some turkey roll ups and pretzel crisps in my face while assisting with
algebraic inequalities. Drink it all
down with a big bottle of water (this detail is important).
8. Rush to get into my running clothes and notice
in the mirror that I have a wicked bed- head party cookin’ in the back. Hence,
#2 was not a success.
9. Race out the door so I can try and squeeze in a
few miles—only to remember I didn’t get my son’s friend a gift—party also that
evening.
10. Swerve into CVS, get gift card and card about
monkey butts (middle school boys—perfect).
11. Have a laugh in the parking lot with a student
who sees me talking to myself. Of course
he couldn’t hear the Overture (and voices) in my head, but I think he
suspected.
12. FINALLY get to the park to begin my run only to
realize I have very little time left.
13. See another (former) student, hug it out, catch
up, and take a selfie thereby cutting out even more running time.
At this point some of you might be saying, “Give it up. It’s ok to be too busy to squeeze in a run.” Normally this is very true, rational advice
that I would follow. The backstory,
however, is that I was partaking in a pedometer team challenge in my school
district and when competition is involved I lose all sense of rational
thought. Not to mention our 70+ year old
security guard was KICKING. OUR. ASSES. I mean, really? But that’s another story…
As you can imagine, this run was important for racking up
the steps so off I went. 1 mile, or 2
times around the park, and I was already done with running in circles and
decided to hit the road. By mile two I
had to pee. Badly (I told you the big
bottle of water was important). Why the
hell did I run away from the park? I boogied
back to the park at a pace as fast as I could push it without piddling my
pants. I made it back at exactly three miles, and bee-lined straight for the
bathroom.
The bathroom it was mercifully empty and I shuffled my way
toward the big stall. I say shuffled
because I was no longer walking—a legs-crossed shuffle was the best I could manage
at this point (squeeze right leg over left, step right foot forward, slide the
left behind. Right foot forward, slide
the left behind…). Fling the stall door
open and of course, WHY WOULD THERE BE TOILET PAPER? Shuffle my way to the small stall in
anticipation of sweet relief. I was barely
able to get my sweaty-sticking- to-my-legs-running-spandex down but managed to
peel them just in the nick of time to hover and let it goooooooo. Who hasn’t felt that flood of gratitude, “Holy
mother of Troy, I didn’t think I was going to make it, thank you running gods
for letting me get to the bowl in time…”
 |
| Like this, but sweaty and wearing running clothes |
Very quickly I realized that I should have withheld my thanks
or at least some of it, because the running gods were having a knee slapping
laugh at my expense. I may have shimmied
down my sweaty pants, but forgot a crucial element—my underwear. I was so desperate to pee that I didn’t notice
that my underwear didn’t make the descent with my pants. That's right--I sat on the bowl with my drawers still pulled up. Relief was in full force so there was nothing
to do but allow the comprehension to sink in that although I didn’t pee my
pants, I peed my underpants! This is the action of a woman on the brink. WHAT. THE. FRIG.
As you are either laughing or totally grossed out (I hope it’s
the former), I will take you through the last details of this debacle. Clearly I had to remove my underwear which
entailed trying to maneuver out of my sweat (and now pee) clung clothes in a
very narrow stall. All privacy was lost
as a mother and young child came in to occupy the big stall and despite my
misfortune, I handed them some toilet paper under the stall knowing they had
none. I can only imagine what they thought
I was doing on my side of the bathroom. I
had to take off my sneakers but then stood on them because I didn’t want my
socks on the public bathroom floor, no doubt I was making grunting noises as I
struggled out of my sweaty spandex, my nose was running and therefore I was
sniffling, and I was unraveling yards of toilet paper with which to wrap my
underwear. I had to wait out this mother-daughter duo so I could
sneak my now toilet paper wrapped, balled up, pee-pee undies out of the
stall. That mother probably pressed her
child close to her side as she made a dash for safety to the outside world.
Was it too much to ask for there to be garbage pails in the freakin’
bathroom? I guess that would be too
logical and was left with no choice but to sprint out of there to my mini-van
where I hoped to conceal my shame. Naturally,
there are yet more students driving in the parking lot who give a beep so I
waved to with the hand that’s not clutching the not-so-clandestine toilet paper
package. Seriously, because I teach in
the same town as I live, sometimes when running in town I feel like a waving
idiot on a parade float.
I successfully made it to my mini-van, stuck my undies in a
plastic bag, and decided to hell with it—I have time for one more, quick
mile! That’s champ status, right there.
The moral of this story should be that on those ridiculously hectic days
when the Lone Ranger song is playing in my head, I allow myself to take a break
or in this case let the competition go.
Maybe I will, but I know me and the likelihood is that I won’t. After all, if I did that there’d be no
stories like this to tell ;)
So You Look Like a Runner? Big Whoop!
One of my biggest problems during races is that I go out too fast and then fizzle. Although I can usually maintain an overall pace that I'm satisfied with, the biggest downside to going out too quickly is that I get to spend the rest of the race being passed out by other runners. And the interesting thing is actually watching the runners as they zoom by me. I think the general population has a stereotypical idea of what a "runner" looks like based on stature and form. Yeah, in reality looking like a runner doesn't mean jack-squat-diddly. Anyone that has completed just a few races knows that runners come in all shapes, forms and sizes and anyone of them, at any time can pass you out.
Just this past weekend I was running the Ion Cheshire Half Marathon and my mind had plenty of time to started compiling and classifying the different types of runners as they were blowing by me. I think I had to do this mental excercise so I didn't blow a gasket out of frustration. So here's what I have come up with so far:
Just this past weekend I was running the Ion Cheshire Half Marathon and my mind had plenty of time to started compiling and classifying the different types of runners as they were blowing by me. I think I had to do this mental excercise so I didn't blow a gasket out of frustration. So here's what I have come up with so far:
Runner Type
|
Description
|
1. The Clomper
 |
This
is the runner you can hear coming from a mile away. You might think Ronald
McDonald is running in the race and closing in quickly. Clump, clop, clump, clop…it’s enough to
drive you mad.
|
2. The Darth Vader
 |
Basically,
this is the heavy breather. Big, loud,
deep, and heavy breaths. Sometimes I think I can actually feel the hot air
they’re blowing on the back of my neck.
Yummy.
|
3.
The Killer Combo
|
Combination
of 1 & 2. I sometimes wonder if
this type actually enjoys running because it sounds so painful for them.
|
4.
The Inconsiderate
Hocker
 |
We
all spit when we run. But this runner
either waits until they are right next to your ear to start calling up their
loogie in the most loud and clammy manner and/or doesn’t take care to spit it
away from your running path. Thanks
for that, pal.
|
5. The Wonder Woman
|
Usually
a mom, this is the runner who pushes a running stroller. During a race. With a 25 pound toddler
inside. And passing you. Awe inspiring
and aggravating at the same time.
|
6.
The Crowder
|
You
hear someone coming up behind you. You
move over to the right leaving a spacious
amount of room on your left to graciously allow them to pass. And yet they choose to appear VERY CLOSE to
your right shoulder where there is no extra room. Can be cozy but usually not so much.
|
7. The Whippersnapper
 |
*Sigh*
The young energetic runners that are barely breaking a bead, laughing and
cavorting with a friend as they run…while after having had two children I’m
just trying not to pee my pants before I finish the race.
|
8. The Old Fashioned
 |
Probably
the most inspiring runners on the course.
The older, sometimes much older, runners give me hope that I have
years and years to continue running.
|
9.
The Leaners
|
Pick
your direction. These runners might
lean so far back as they run you think they have spotted something
interesting in the sky, so far forward that you are waiting for the face
plant, or so far to one side that you think maybe they ate one too many
burritos the night before.
|
10.
The Gazelle
 |
The
runner that has such a long, graceful and swift stride that you think to
yourself, “Yeah, ok there swifty. Let’s
see how long you can keep THAT up for.” And you never see them again because they
kept it up for the entire race. Damn it.
|
11.
The Arnold
|
This runner is super fit, lean and
muscular. You don’t feel as bad when
they zip past you because how could you possibly keep up with someone in that
kind of shape? They inadvertently make
you create a mental list to be more diligent about cross training, not skimp
on the core work, and start lifting again.
Right after I finish the laundry, making dinner, homework help…yeah,
right.
|
12.
The Dash n Stroll
|
This
runner hasn’t quite found their pace.
They sprint past you, then slow down to practically a walk. Then zip! There they go again. Aaaand then
they are strolling again. Very
frustrating to watch when you are running a consistent pace. Especially when you watch them cross the
finish line ahead of you!
|
I mean no disrespect to any of the above runner types! We all have our different quirks and different styles. I'd love to hear about runner types you've observed, or what type you are!
April 2014
SMUGGLIN' RAISINS
I have something in common with Jennifer Aniston. Ever notice on pretty much every episode of Friends she's got something perky going on under her shirt? Me and Jen--well, we're raisin smugglers. This phenomenon may be known to some of you as T.H.O. (if you don't know what that means, I can't help you!). Don't misunderstand: I am not proclaiming to have the endowment that she does. She smuggles raisins on top of cantaloupes and me? I just have the raisins.
Unlike my girl Jen who seems to have perpetual raisin syndrome, my problem arises when I work out, get a little sweaty, and either encounter a breeze or start to cool down. Heaven forbid I'm inside and get a blast of air conditioning! I know I'm not the only one that experiences this, although it's a bit of a chronic thing for me. So what's the big deal?
 |
| Digital image. Organic Raisins. Bulk Foods, n.d. Web. 21 Apr. 2014. |
Actually, it wasn't a big deal to me--workout, cool down, smuggle some raisins, go home. That is until one day when I was working out in the gym and had an encounter of the most unfortunate kind. For those of you that don't know, I am a high school teacher. This is information will be important momentarily. I know that when working out you are supposed to do strength training first, then cardio. I don't know who made that rule, but I hate it and don't follow it. I find strength training much easier after I'm already warm and limber.
So on this particular day of the unfortunate encounter, that's what I did. I believe I ran 4 miles on the treadmill and broke a pretty good bead doing so then went off to do some light lifting. Once I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror I realized that perhaps wearing a white performance T-shirt over a white sports bra was not the best choice. I was drippinng with sweat and the air conditioning was blowing just so...a perfect recipe for raisin smuggling extraordinaire.
"Hey! Mrs. Flaherty!" Oh no. No, no, no. Aaaaannnnd over walks a student--male student, of course. Since throwing my hands or arms over my chest was simply too obvious, and running away to the locker room too rude, I tried to discreetly concave my torso in the hopes that the result would be unsuctioning my sweat soaked shirt from my body. I thought maybe I had done it, that this slick move had worked!
 |
| Martin Short. Digital image. Saturday Night Live. Globe Photos, Inc., n.d. Web. 21 Apr. 2014. |
 |
| Digital image. The Best Christmas Films. South Wales Argus, n.d. Web. 21 Apr. 2014. |
Which could only mean that the poor thing had caught a glimpse of my dried, withered fruit poking its way out from under my shirt. To make a painful story short, the conversation was politely terse, awkwardly tense and couldn't have been over soon enough. Needless to say, I gave up on the lifting for that day and high tailed it to the locker room so I could smuggle my raisins outta there!
Although I'm sure this single moment most certainly scarred that poor young man for life, some good did come out of it. Immediately I made a note to self: never wear white to the gym again. Upon further reflection I considered how I could prevent a future dried fruit mishap. For starters, wearing dark colors drastically diminishes the likelihood of another person spotting your raisins. Notice I didn't say colors, I said dark colors. I have several performace shirts of bright colors and they may enhance the issue even more than white. But the best way to conceal raisins is to wear a sports bra that has padded cups. Not the torpedo type, just a little something to work as a barrier.
How to Avoid FRANKENFEET
If you run, you probably already know the rule of thumb (rule of toe?) is that you should buy your sneakers a half size bigger than your regular shoe in order to leave your toes room. Therefore as one with a size 8.5 foot, last spring I bought my Brooks Pure Cadence sneaks in a size 9. I must take a moment to declare that I friggin' LOVED these sneakers! Here they are: |
| Brooks Pure Cadence |
This past summer I was able to gradually increase my mileage with no feet or toe issues. After all, I followed the size rule. However, once I started running 13 miles or more, my toes started to hurt. Badly! Oozing blisters and aching toenails. Clipping them shorter didn't help and then this started to happen:
 |
| Look closely and you will see my toe nail is ripping off from the bottom right corner |
I visited a specialty running store where I was told that at greater distances my feet were most likely swelling and that I should get a pair of sneakers one full size over my regular size for these longer runs. Skeptical, I envisioned clomping around in sneakers that would feel more like clown feet, but complied since they were the experts. And they were right! The extra room in the front of my shoe helped a lot. They didn't carry my Brooks, but recommended a comparable model in Saucony. Funny, I've always been a huge fan of Saucony and although these did turn out to be great sneaks, my Brooks still beat them by a mile! (I swear I'm not getting a kick back from Brooks to say these things.)
While I was at the specialty running store I found these little gems known as toe caps which I prefer to call toe condoms (c'mon--look at them). Call them what you will, they helped! If you already have a blister they buffer the toe so it doesn't become worse, and if you have a toe that you know is prone to blistering they are preventive. I thought they would feel intrusive and annoying but they mold to your toes and I really didn't even notice them.
A last tidbit I found through Googling is the importane of sock material. I thought cotton was best, but yet again, I had much to learn. Cotton socks retain the sweat, keeping your feet wet causing more rubbing between your toesies! There are many available materials for running socks but I found my favs thus far to be Asics Women's High Intensity Low Socks that are made with nylon, polyester and spandex. I like the high back on the heel that protected from some nasty friction I got with my Saucony sneakers.
Unfortunately, it took me a while to compile these tricks of the trade and it was not soon enough to prevent developing FRANKENFEET. They were that bad. Three lost toe nails, several large and crusted over blisters, chipped pedicures and just overall nasty feet. So although I hope these tips help a reader prevent the horrific feet I endured, I also must say that I did wear my brutalized peds like a badge of honor. Each blister, sore or wound my feet endured was EARNED through hard work and sweat. My Frankenfeet carried me far.
Image Citations:
ASICS Women's High Intensity Low Sock. N.d. Photograph. Amazon.com. Web. 14 Feb. 2014. <http://www.amazon.com/ASICS-Womens-Intensity-Low-Sock/dp/B003XIHXHE>.
Brooks Pure Cadence-Black/Purple. Digital image. When the Shoe Fits. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 Feb. 2014. <http://www.whentheshoefits.com/product.asp?pfid=WSH01137>.
Frankenfeet. Digital image. Club Penguin Wiki. Wikida, n.d. Web. 14 Feb. 2014. <http://clubpenguin.wikia.com/wiki/Frankenfeet>.
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