Double Dare, Triathablog, and a Bittersweet Goodbye

It all started at Starbucks. Elisa, Amanda, Jenn (she's like our fifth Beatle who stayed out of the spotlight) and I developed Triathablog over Americanos and Wild Sweet Orange Tea (brewed with a bag of Refresh, naturally).

We started this contest to support each other in our attempts to work exercise into everyday life. Physical Challenges came as an afterthought, added to shake up the competition and make things more interesting for our readers.

Unexpectedly, I learned more from the challenges than from the everyday discipline of running. That wasn't my only surprise. I thought 20 minutes of yoga every day would be simple, but it was mentally and physically exhausting. I thought meditating for 30 minutes would be impossible, but I found it was easy and refreshing. I thought running in costume would get easier after the first wave of embarrassment — it doesn't.

The challenges that forced me to break my routine taught me the most. Running at a different time and place wreaked havoc on my running schedule and ended up costing me a couple weeks of points. But, in the long run (HA! I had to use it sometime), I learned to how to break my routine without getting completely off track (AGAIN! I'm ridiculous).

Due to a couple weeks of seemingly constant rain and sickness, I took solace in a gym and in my own apartment. I still kind of hate exercise videos, but I can lift weights, do yoga, and even do a little cardio (jumping jacks, jump rope ... various jump-centric activities) all while watching Gossip Girl. (Or, at least during the commercial breaks — no exercise is worth missing a minute of Chuck and Blair.)

For me, Triathablog's end is bittersweet. The challenges taught me a lot, but, like any good learning experience, I didn't always enjoy them. Sometimes, I loved sharing my thoughts on running with the world. But I'm also looking forward to long runs alone, without having a metaphorical audience looking over my shoulder. (I picture you — our blog audience — like those Verizon Wireless Network people, always there when you turn around ... a quality that can be good and bad.)

Thanks so much to our readers. You've been patient through reports on crosswalks, and you've laughed with me through elf costumes and James Franco daydreams. And thanks to Elisa and Amanda for taking this journey with me. You have been worthy competitors and amazing partners. I've enjoyed our adventure, and I am thankful for your support and for your friendship.

Merry Christmas from Triathablog!

There's no challenge like the Masquerade Challenge ... and no morning like Christmas to frighten all your neighbors.



Last week, I wrote my sister and asked her to make me a pair of her famous elf shoes. She not only agreed, but she said she'd run with me ... which made running in costume less embarrassing ... kind of. Here she is this morning, fitting the shoes for me.



We're set to go! The sooner we get back, the sooner we get to attack our presents. And, yes, our skirts are made from old tablecloths I took from Starbucks.



Surprise! My grandparents got wind of our Triathadventure and joined us on scooters ... with their Santa hats! (They also mortified us by making us deliver homemade bread to their neighbors while still in costume, but that was later.)



Our triumphant return! Merry Christmas!

Boo-boo Kitty

Who says life doesn't kick you when you're down? This morning I've been stressing out, trying to fill my trunk with gifts (which would have been easier if I'd cleaned out my car beforehand), take the trash out, wash dishes, go for a run, and do laundry that's been piling up since Thanksgiving.

In the midst of multitasking, I took a fairly bad fall in front of the whole neighborhood. It doesn't look that bad, but it really hurts, from my hands to my skinned knees.

I don't think I should run on it today (it keeps bleeding, for one thing ... maybe my Hello Kitty bandaids aren't cutting it), but I cleaned up and Neosporined and Adviled, so hopefully I'll be good to go for the rest of the week.

I've learned this from Triathablog — ignoring sickness or injury only makes it worse, sidelining me for longer than I'd like. Come to think of it, maybe that's true for other areas of life as well. I'll admit, postponing cleaning out my car has made for a more hectic morning. And going for a month without doing laundry makes for a hellish start to a road trip. Until I get some elves, maybe it's time to start planning ahead.

A Head Cold Is Such a Grinch

Getting sick again is not on my schedule for Christmas, but I found out early in Triathablog that ignoring my body's pain only makes it worse. So instead of pretending I'm fine, I'm getting lots of sleep and lots of fluids. But should I stop running?

I've heard a lot from both ends of the spectrum, especially last week, when I didn't run because of stomach problems. One side (this includes my mom) says I should absolutely rest from running when I'm sick. The other side (this includes my downstairs neighbor) says I should under no circumstances lose Triathablog, even if it means running sick.

In matters of debate such as this, I like to let Google weigh in. Turns out, the good people of the Internet say you can keep running if your illness is above your throat — like my head cold — and stop running if it's below the throat (chest congestion, nausea, etc.). Also, don't run with dizziness or fever.

This is relatively good news for me. It means I did the right thing last week by not running with nausea. It also means going to the gym today is probably okay. In fact, one site said that it's better to run on a treadmill than outside when I'm sick with a winter cold, because dry outside air could further irritate my poor little overworked nose (I'm paraphrasing).

Of course, part of me wants to stay in bed all day. But, at the advice of Dr. Internet, I'll stop by the gym on the way home. Then I'll drink my weight in orange juice, just to cover my bases.

Report to HR for Hopscotch (A Triathablog Special Report)

Work has been rough lately. My company is downsizing, and morale sinks lower as people walk into work every day convinced it could be their last. We stare at our computer screens and sink into our chairs, becoming more and more depressed.

It's times like this that make me feel more like an adult than ever — and that makes me long for childhood. I miss spending long December days making snowballs with my sister, sledding down hills with my dad, and eating "snow cream" that my mom drizzled with honey.

Now I'm an adult ... living in Alabama ... in the age of global warming. There's little chance of snow flurries, let alone snowball fights. But what about all the other games we'd play outside? Kids from the neighborhood were constantly riding bikes together, or playing Freeze Tag, or Kickball, or Hide and Go Seek. In school, we were led in games of Red Rover, Dodgeball, or Four Square.

I'm not the first person to wish for the playground while sitting at work. Recess-type games are used as team building exercises by companies wishing to improve morale, to varying levels of success. In the best of situations, these games can loosen up employees, both literally — actually getting people out of their un-ergonomic office chairs — and figuratively — helping people work through their problems in an unthreatening environment.

On the other hand, some experts are against Recess in the workplace, saying it can be childish and silly, making employees feel looked down upon. It can even encourage petty rivalries, just like it does on the playground.

Frankly, the way our layoffs have been handled, I don't see how a schoolyard game could be any worse. Our parent company is making decisions that seem arbitrary and unfair, like a game of Duck, Duck, Goose, or Musical Chairs. I'd welcome a break from endless meetings about layoffs for the chance to hang on the Monkey Bars for a few minutes. With all the money our higher ups are saving on salaries, maybe they could spring for a swing set.

Until that happens (and I won't be holding my breath), there are plenty of groups in Birmingham that will help me get my recess on. Take The Birmingham Kickball League, or Tragic City Rollers (if you've ever wanted an excuse to wear knee socks and glitter eyelashes while knocking over a girl on skates, they're your girls).

And if you're looking for a good game of frisbee, just ask my friend Heath at Crestline Starbucks, who's always looking for players in his Sunday game of Ultimate Frisbee (if you're interested, PLEASE tell him I send you ... maybe it'll get him off my back).

I'm glad these groups exist. But part of me wishes I didn't have to work so hard just to run around the park with my friends. I like going to Bottletree as much as the next young Birmingham professional with an affinity for Red Bull and Vodka, but I'm wishing for a good time that doesn't require an ID, a Facebook invite, and twenty dollars. When did sport become so organized? When did playing become so much work? Sometimes I wish it were still as easy as grabbing my jump rope and running outside.

The Road Less Traveled Sucks

I have to admit, I'd rather take the road more traveled. It's probably shorter, there's less chance I'll get mugged, and there might be some sort of concession stand. Is there a way to develop a taste for adventure? Because, as of now, I don't have it.

That's why this crazy winter/summer/rain/snow/70-degree Alabama weather is really bumming me out. It's reeking havoc on my running schedule, and I can't settle into a routine.

I liked running in the mornings, but now it stays dark so long that I can't get to work on time (I could if I skipped Starbucks, but that's not happening). I started running in the afternoon, but if I get wrapped up talking to coworkers about catalog copy (or, let's be honest, Rob Pattinson), it gets dark before I even leave the office.

Anyway, I miss my routine. (And I miss changing into running clothes somewhere other than the bathroom at Starbucks Mountain Brook ... although I think it's funny that every time I'm in there, someone else is also changing into workout gear in the next stall.) So I decided to join a gym.

Dawson Memorial Baptist Church seems like a great deal: It's $25 a month, you don't have to be a church member, and you can pay month to month. Perfect, since I only intend to be trapped inside on a treadmill for the winter months when it's necessary.

Trouble is, I'm not going, even though I want to go. I want to run. I want to be one of those girls who throws her gym bag in the back of her car every day. But it's unknown, and the unknown is scary.

My English professors said that when Robert Frost said the road less traveled "has made all the difference," he was being ironic. They said he was really saying that it didn't matter, since all roads led to the same place.

Maybe, in this case, my English professors were right (I'm not as sure about all the phallic symbolism they found in EVERYTHING, but that's another blog). I could force myself to stick to a routine — buy a headlamp and run every morning. Or, I could conquer my fear, walk into Dawson, and take the treadmill less traveled.

Maybe the point isn't whether I take the easy way or the hard way. Maybe the point is, one way or another, I just keep running.

My So-Called Life: Why I Started Triathablogging

Today, at the grocery store, I saw a former college professor of mine. She asked what I was doing now, and she was shocked when I told her. I work in promotions for a company that sells housewares — primarily, I write a catalog and brochures.

In college, I won the award for most promising Journalism student. I edited the school's literary journal for longer than any other student had. I dressed differently than the other students (I didn't wear pearls, for one thing) and I didn't care. And I hated advertising, and marketing, and promotions.

I have a very good job, and I know I'm lucky to have it, but it's a failure to me in a lot of ways. I'm a very giving and loving person, and family is the most important thing to me, but I haven't even had a boyfriend in ten years. I still live in a crappy little apartment in a building that's about to be condemned. And on top of all that, I can't seem to lose weight, even though I'm running every day.

I've always been a "good girl," a rule follower, a bookworm, a teacher's pet. As it turns out, playing by the rules doesn't have much of an effect on the outcome of the game. I am profoundly confused about how my life seems to be turning out. I have no idea what direction to go.

So I move in a lot of directions at once. I'm doing Triathablog, and I wrote a complete draft of a novel last month. I'm starting a new diet tomorrow, and this week I have a meeting about collaborating with another writer on a new book. It's exhausting, but I don't know how else to do it. I'm afraid of what will happen if I slow down, or if I stop.

I really, really hate to write about all this. But a good friend told me I should get more personal here, so I'm taking her seriously, at least for today.

TriathaBLAH: Is the Honeymoon Over?

It seems we Triathabloggers have collectively hit a wall. Two weeks ago, if you'd asked any of us about the project, you would have gotten an enthusiastic progress report, combined with a little all-in-good-fun trash talk.

Ask us about it now, and you'll probably meet a glazed over look of exhaustion. I, for one, would much rather talk about napping, or hot guys in the new Twilight movie, or napping. (I know, I said it twice.)

Wikipedia defines "hitting a wall" as the "condition when an athlete suddenly loses energy and becomes fatigued." Uh, yeah. I think we're there.

How do we get past this? Wiki recommends Carbo Loading (check — Ranch Fries), consuming food or drinks (check — Americanos), and lowering the intensity of the exercise.

Ah, there's the rub. If we're going to finish with dignity (okay, let's be honest, bragging rights), we can't take it easy.

I want new motivation. I want renewed discipline. I want it to be exciting again.

But maybe that's not the point. Maybe the point is to keep going, even when I'm slow, or feeling sick, or stressed at work, or hung over from holiday parties — whatever. Maybe, in the end, that's how you make fitness a part of your life, and not just a phase.

Either way, I always welcome an excuse to Carbo Load.

Book Report: Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner

After he quit high school track because of a bad coach, Dean Karnazes didn't run again until the night of his thirtieth birthday. In the grip of an early midlife crisis, he ran all night — and covered thirty miles. This whim left him pretty incapacitated for a few months. It also created a hunger for more ultramarathons (defined as any distance longer than 26.2 miles).

After recovering, Karnazes performed some incredible feats, like running a marathon at the South Pole, running Badwater (100 miles in heat that actually toasts bread) and running TWO HUNDRED miles in a race designed as a 12-person relay (he ran the entire race solo).

Seems like he'd be kind of arrogant. Nope. Throughout the book, he remains humble, maintaining that there's nothing superior about him, and that the key to doing what he does is just putting one foot in front of the other. He (or an editor) made an excellent choice to include just a few race stories instead of an exhaustive list, keeping the book engaging and easy to read (I meant to just thumb through it and ending up finishing it the same day).

It includes some helpful tips, like Which Pizza Chain Delivers to Some Running Guy without an Address AND How to Pee without Stopping at All (although I'm not sure how well his method would work for a girl).

I don't run ultramarathons (I barely run 5Ks), but I can relate to taking challenges other people think are crazy. Triathablog has a lot of fans, but most of my friends think it's pointless. Same with my previous blog adventure, Cheap Women. And hardly anyone understands my desire to write an entire novel every November (nanowrimo) with no hope of publishing it. In the view of many of my logical friends and family, I'm not winning prizes and I'm not making money, so why do I devote so much time to these hobbies?

I could relate to Karnazes' drive to test his own limits. He says repeatedly that he doesn't know WHY he takes on these challenges, although he does speculate. The bottom line is, he loves them. They help give him purpose and discipline that translates to other important parts of his life, like his family and his career.

I don't know why I create crazy blog contests or write month-long novels any more than Karnazes knows why he runs 200 mile races. What I do know is, they're important to me. They make me feel alive.

Lots of my friends don't support me, and lots don't understand. That's okay. What I loved about this book was hearing from someone who does. And it doesn't hurt that I get Triathablog points for reading it.

You can get Ultramarathon Man from the Homewood Library ... just as soon as I return it.

turkey trottin'

First of all, if you're reading this you should be eating turkey instead. Or napping. Or mentally preparing yourself for all the shopping you're going to do tomorrow.

That said, I am thankful today for my fellow triathabloggers who are allowing me to participate in their sports this week, due to the holiday closings at the gym(s). I am also thankful for what seems to be a healthy knee, or at least one that is almost back to normal. My roommate and I woke up this fine Thanksgiving morning and went for a run. Okay, more like a slow jog. It was my first time to run outdoors since my last race, and it felt so right. Don't get me wrong, I love swimming ... but I loved running first. It was good to be out there this morning, no matter how far or how fast I was. Thanks, Carrie, for being a compassionate competitor.

Tomorrow its on to biking as I take my mom's Schwinn for a spin in my parent's ridiculously hilly neighborhood, which also does not have a leash law. Wish me luck, internets.

Carrie Goes Baywatch: Running on the Beach

Once upon a time, an evil witch used her candy house to lure Hansel and Gretel into the forest, trying to get them lost so she could cook them in her stove. Luckily, H & G had some breadcrumbs on them, which they used to find their way home. A triumph for carbs! **

If a witch wanted to get me lost, she wouldn't need a candy house. I lose my way ridiculously easily. Once, when I was a Junior in high school, I tried to drive from my house to my school and I ended up in another state. Seriously.

For this and other reasons, I've always dreaded running while on vacation. I'm insecure enough when I'm running without worrying about unfamiliar hills, dangerous parts of town, and the disaster of my directional "skills."

Skipping workouts can be murder on my running schedule — when I miss a week of running, I tend to give up altogether. In an effort to break this trend, I've issued a personal challenge to myself to try to run every time I go to a new town, even if it's just for a day or two.

So far, it's going well. When I went to Lake Martin for work, I discovered that I actually like running on hills. When I go to see my parents, I enjoy running in the neighborhood where I spent a couple formative years. But my favorite challenge has been running on the beach, which I did last weekend when I went to Jacksonville, Florida, to celebrate my sister's birthday.

There are few things better than running on the beach as the sun rises. Besides being tremendously beautiful, it was something I never thought I could do (just walking on the beach is hard enough sometimes). I had an amazing morning, and I even set a personal best for the mile (according to Lance Armstrong on my Nike Plus). I think there was something about the challenge of doing something new, plus the overwhelming beauty of the ocean, that helped me push myself further without even realizing it.

Of course, I also got lost ... I forgot to pay attention to which boardwalk I started from. I made it back by listening to my Nike Plus (when I realized I was lost, I turned and ran exactly that distance back), and by following my own footsteps (I was lucky the tide wasn't coming in). It's no breadcrumbs in the forest, but it'll do.

** Note: I'm pretty sure I did not tell this story accurately. But it works for my own purposes, so I'll leave it. Please don't fault me for my Fairy Tale reconstructionism.

Fear and Loathing and Nike Plus

So, I appreciated Amanda and Elisa's "gift" of a Nike Plus system ... I really did. But they sure made it harder to live in denial.

For the uninitiated, Nike Plus is a relatively inexpensive (if you already have the iPod) system put together by Nike and iPod that's kind of like a super advanced, super cool pedometer. Just plug a little computer thingie into your iPod and pop a little sensor dealie into your shoe (I hope I'm not getting too technical here), and it pretty much tells you what to do from there. You can get all fancy with it, tracking workouts of your friends and family, comparing past and present workouts, and programming in your favorite songs, but I haven't tried any of that. Yet.

Truth be told, I didn't want to know how far I was running. People ask pretty often (something about starting a blog to write about your running makes people think you actually want to talk about your running ... weird). I liked being able to honestly say, "I don't know, I just run for 30 minutes." You see, it's one thing to mention (as I have, several times) that you're a slow runner. It's quite another to know just HOW slow. In trying to prepare myself for the worst, I had convinced myself that the worst was true, and that made me terrified to confirm my gloomy suspicions.

Turns out, I run a pretty respectable (I think) three miles in 30 minutes. It's no Usaine Bolt (oh, what am I saying, it's no Average Mountain Brook Mom), but I'm still pretty proud of it. Runner's World gives training advice for ten minute milers. Running three miles means I can easily handle a 5K.

Plus, I'm pretty sure that's what Miranda on Sex and the City ran when she was training for the NYC Marathon (she picked up the pace after a dating situation with a fellow runner went bad ... guess I have to start sleeping with my training partner if I'm going to run faster). I have been validated by pop culture, and, in my book, that's success!**

You can buy a Nike Plus system at The Trak Shack.

**For the record, I don't equate pop culture with success. I don't have a running partner. But, even if I did, I wouldn't sleep with him just to improve my time. Body shots, maybe.

Death of an iPod: A Blog in Two Acts

I've mentioned here before that it's hard for me to run without playing significant mind games (pretending to be invisible, conjuring James Franco, etc.). My iPod was a major player in my self deception — it was the soundtrack to whatever movie happened to be playing in my head. It was the feather to my Dumbo. The security blanket to my Linus.

Then I broke it.

Well, I think I broke it. I dropped it and then it worked fine, and I rejoiced. A couple days later, it started acting funny (also known as The Great Halloween Haunting). Finally, it stopped for good. Running without an iPod was scary for me, but I did it, and I'm glad I cleared that hurdle. I don't NEED it anymore. But I still kind of want it.

Happily, my fellow Triathabloggers have my back. As soon as Amanda heard my iPod was broken, she offered to lend me one she rarely uses. Oh joy! Not to be outdone, Elisa's letting me borrow her Nike Plus system that works with an iPod to help you track your runs. (She actually took her shoe off in the middle of Starbucks, pulled the tracker out of its sole, and threw it at me.)

So my friends have saved the music, as it were. Even more important, I have a couple Physical Therapist friends who helped me save my knee.

Allison Ashby confirmed my internet diagnosis of Runner's Knee and reminded me that a bag of frozen peas makes a good icepack (I used edamame, but she still gets credit). And Amanda Lane mentioned that taking ibuprofen straight for a couple days could kick the lingering pain out of my knee, which it totally did.

I guess the moral is, keep your Triathablog friends (Allison and Amanda Lane) close, and your Triathablog enemies (Elisa and Amanda) closer. That, and try not to drop your iPod.

Give me a T! Give me an R! Give me a ... Oh, Nevermind

Yesterday, I was whining to Elisa about my many troubles — both the self-imposed, like Triathablog and Nanowrimo — and the misfortunes, like layoffs at work, and the fact that my Vespa is laying hopelessly at Bogart's Motorsports (its parts strewn across their garage for who knows how long).

"Why does God hate me?" I asked. "WHY don't I have a boyfriend?!"

You might say that having a boyfriend has little to do with running or Triathablog, not to mention scooter repair and cutbacks at work. You could point out that dating might actually make me more busy and more stressed. And, I'll admit, you'd have a logical point.

But I'm a single woman living in a post-Bridget Jones world. To me, one way or another, all troubles revolve around being single (or at least are made worse by this fact).

Elisa's response? "I don't think you want a boyfriend, necessarily. You just want someone on your team. Someone to say you had a good run, and to tell you your novel is awesome, and that the people at Bogart's are jerks." (She didn't say jerks, but I'm making this PG.) "Someone to give you a hug when you're tired."

You know, I think Elisa's right. I don't need a boyfriend. I need a CHEERLEADER.

I need someone to wave pompoms next to me on the trail. Someone to chant, "Two, Four, Six, Eight, Triathabloggers are so great!" (Or maybe something more creative.) Someone to leave cookies in my locker!

Alas, I don't think it's happening any time soon. (That's probably for the best — being followed around by a girl in a short skirt might get weird.) For now, I appreciate the little things, like my friends Kevin and John telling me that running three miles IS a big deal and something to be proud of, or Amanda and Elisa "listening" via email to boring running stories too dull to post, or readers and friends who leave comments or tell me in person that they enjoy the blog.

Just so you know, every time you leave a comment or a compliment, it's like you're giving us a little cheer. That means a lot to us — who needs pompoms? (Although, if anyone wants to do a human pyramid sometime, that might be nice.)

My Achilles Heel Is Ranch Fries: It May Not Be an Epic Struggle, but It's Mine

When it comes to my diet, I’m kind of like that girl in the nursery rhyme: "when she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad, she was horrid.”

I’m a vegetarian anyway, and when I actually pay attention to what I eat, I end up getting plenty of vegetables, some fruit, lots of protein and just a few carbs. Awesome! When I’m not paying attention, my diet consists mostly of Egg and Cheese Biscuits, baked potatoes, and Purple Onion ranch fries (although lately I’ve been experimenting with cheese fries). Not exactly a food pyramid so much as a flat line … which could be taken as some kind of metaphor, I guess.

I don’t think November is the time to start a full-on Food Watch, considering this month I’m trying to win Triathablog, finish a novel for Nanowrimo, and plan holiday parties and gifts … oh, and hold down a full-time job. But I do want to stop the downward spiral.

I’m terrible with moderation (give me an outlandish blog challenge and I’ll run every day, but give me freedom and I’ll sit on my couch), but it looks like I’m going to have to get better at it if I’m going to get vitamins or protein for the next couple months. This is Triathablog, not Supersize Me — there’s no need to prove I can run fueled only by McDonalds.

My energy is low, and that's not good for my health or my running, so I'm hoping to start small changes. I'm going to keep drinking lots of water, and I'm giving up soda after today. I'll try to eat some fruit or (gasp!) even a vegetable or two. Maybe substitute hummus for ranch fries next time I’m at the Purple Onion. (Or maybe not; let’s not go crazy.)

Here’s hoping.

Movie Review: Prefontaine

Tonight I watched Prefontaine, a somewhat poorly acted film (it's set up kind of like a documentary, but with actors playing the interviewees ... unless Al Bundy really did coach Track and Field) about running legend Steve Prefontaine.

I was struck by the importance of competition on Pre's running — and on athletics in general, really. Why do runners make their best times in competition? What is it about the race that pushes us to go further than we would on an everyday run?

We Triathabloggers get this question a LOT: Why have a competition? Why not do this on your own?

For me, the answer's so simple: We compete because it pushes us further. And we compete because it's fun.

Did Steve Prefontaine showboat? Yeah, and so do we (read the previous post if you need proof). But did he come through for his team when they needed him? He did. And so do we, coming through for each other with affirmation and support (see Amanda and Elisa's comments on my last Special Report if you need proof) when we need it.

We're not the type of girls who enjoy running alone on treadmills. We're girls who want to dive in, run harder, ride farther. We're girls who like a challenge, and we're girls who like to win. With Triathablog, we embrace that.

Prefontaine is a lackluster movie, but Pre's story does shine through. Plus there's lots of retro facial hair, some interesting history (about the Munich Olympics and the founding of Nike, particularly), and plenty of shirtless shots of Jordan Catalano (okay, Jared Leto). All in all, not a bad rental.

Special Report: Running Mates

I'm always amazed by just how new women's rights are to the world. It's great to imagine those suffragettes marching for the vote — which women in the U.S. didn't get until 1920, not even 100 years ago. But all those flappers seem a long way away.

In 1966, women still weren't allowed admission to Yale or Harvard (Yale allowed women in 1969, Harvard not until 1972). And they weren't allowed to run marathons, either. The standard thought was women's bodies couldn't handle the strain, and they would die — yes, die — from running a marathon.

Roberta "Bobbi" Gibb found out about the limitation after applying to run Boston and being denied. That year, she traveled the country in her VW bus (so sixies!), training the whole way. The next year, she decided to run without official authorization. She dressed in men's clothes and hid in the bushes until the start, then joined the pack.

The next year, Kathrine Switzer was the first to run Boston with an actual race number — she had to register using only her initials and get her coach to pick up her number so officials wouldn't know she was a woman. They didn't know she was a woman until she started running — then it got ugly. Two race officials ran after Switzer, trying to physically remove her from the race, or at least tear off her number. (Actually, Gibb ran that year, too, but without a number. She was forced off the course right before the finish.)

Both women talk about how amazing the men who ran with them acted at the events. Men circled both women, offering support in Gibb's case and protection in Switzer's. I'm proud of those men, who supported their fellow athletes despite stereotypes against them. And I'm amazed by women who managed to run over 26 miles, proving themselves under the pressure of proving the strength of an entire gender.

Many countries STILL treat women as second class citizens, denying not only important rights like voting and choosing who to marry, but also robbing them of small things we take for granted, like heading out for a jog.

A couple years ago I read Nine Parts of Desire, by Geraldine Brooks, a great book about women in the Middle East. One of the chapters describes the struggles of female Muslim athletes, who can't go out in public unless they're wearing a burqa. I found it difficult to run in ladybug wings ... I'm pretty sure I couldn't do it covered head to toe in fabric.

Most of my life, I considered running — or any exercise, really — a chore, and I felt sorry for myself when I had to do it. Now I realize heading out for a run is a freedom that thousands of women still don't have.

Gibb writes that she entered the Boston Marathon because she loves running, not to make a statement. But she is philosophical about her run: "We talk a lot about peace," she says. "But what is peace? It is not just a passive state of acquiescence. Peace is a dynamic state of human interrelationship, based on fairness and consideration, which requires the hard work of becoming fully who we are and encouraging others to do the same."

Today, we vote. I can't express how important I believe it is to exercise this freedom that so many have fought for. But it's also important not to take our "everyday" freedoms for granted. The freedom to run a marathon. The freedom to join the corporate world. The freedom to choose who to marry — or to choose not to marry at all.

Today, I will vote, and I'll be grateful for the freedom to do it. And today, I'll run, and I'll be thankful that I'm able to do that, too.

It's Hard Enough to Run without Keeping Your Wings Straight: Happy Halloween from Triathablog

This morning I performed our most unanimously dreaded challenge: The MASQUERADE CHALLENGE, in which I had to wear a costume while performing my sport.

Oddly, I got little reaction from my fellow early-morning runners. It was kind of dark, but I'd think it'd be pretty hard not to notice a human-shaped ladybug running toward you.

Anyway, they didn't notice (one guy gave me a big smile but I couldn't tell if it was related) even though my spots were smearing a little, and I was having to hold my wings on straight, and I kept veering on and off the trail because of my haunted iPod. (At first it wouldn't play, and then it worked fine. During the silence I was frantically pushing buttons, which did nothing except make the light come on. The sun hadn't come up yet, so the iLight was really bright, and after looking at it I couldn't see the trail so I kept running off it accidentally).

I think maybe everyone running pre-7 a.m. is just too groggy, or too intensely dedicated, to notice much of what anyone else is doing. That's why I like running in the morning so much, actually. No one pays that much attention when I'm clumsy or groggy ... or dressed like a giant bug. It really helps me not to feel self-conscious.

What a Difference a (Time of) Day Makes

This week, I'm attempting the FLUX CAPACITOR Challenge — exercising at a different time than usual (see Contest Rules in the sidebar on the right for more details ... then suggest a challenge for our AUDIENCE CHOICE Challenge).

An aside: I'm a bit shocked by how many people don't know what a Flux Capacitor is. Hello! It's the device that makes time travel possible! I'm not judging, but I am saying I feel sorry for you if Back to the Future wasn't a formative part of your childhood. Deloreans! Orange Vests! 88 Miles Per Hour!

Anyway ... I'm at my most creative at night, and I've never considered myself a morning person or an athlete. But a job change forced me to switch from a sunrise shift to more reasonable work hours. Surprisingly, I began to fill my mornings with exercise. Even more surprisingly, I enjoyed it.

Now, as the sun rises later and later, it's hard to fit in running, icing my knee, and Starbucks (I'm a bit of an addict, and the baristas at Starbucks in Crestline totally make my day). Seems like the perfect time to try running in the afternoon.

Some things I already love about running at the end of the day: the feeling of running shoes after a day in heels (absolutely amazing), the smell of Davenport's Pizza Palace after a hard run, and the energy I have all night so I avoid collapsing in front of the TV.

And things I miss about the morning: Waking up with the neighborhood, smelling the lavender in front of The Cook Store (what is it with me and scents?), and the energy to make it through a work day in a cubicle.

I feel stronger and run farther in the afternoon, but I'm less concerned with what people think of me in the morning.

No matter your feelings (or appalling lack of knowledge) about Flux Capacitors, this challenge has given me the guts to change my routine and get out on the trail even when I'm uncomfortable and intimidated. Will I switch mornings for afternoons? Jury's still out. But there's one thing I really love, and that's having the courage to change things up.

Special Report: Crosswalks, Pop Rocks, and a Practical Use for Lite-Brite Technology

There are many things that fill me with Runner's Rage: people who let their dogs take up the whole trail, gossipy running groups that sound like a hives of bees as they approach, happy couples holding hands (that one may have little to do with running). But nothing is so infuriating as cars that don't yield the right of way at crosswalks.

I've heard, "pedestrians always have the right of way." I wondered, is this true, or is it urban legend, like that rumor saying that it's lethal to combine Pop Rocks and soda (a wicked lie that stopped the science-based candy craze in its tracks)? Undoubtedly, cars rule the road. But do they have the right to?

According to the Alabama Department of Motor Vehicles, the rules for vehicles at a crosswalk are pretty simple. If the crosswalk is at a traffic light, obey the light (although when turning "right on red," you must yield to pedestrians). If the crosswalk is not at a light or intersection, you must stop for pedestrians. If no one is crossing, you don't have to stop (unless there's a stop sign, obviously).

That means you stop for that stroller at a crosswalk, even if you're on your way to Rojo and you're racing a Suburban for the best parking spot.

It means that, even if you can see a green light UP AHEAD, you still need to stop for the runner who's trying to cross at a crosswalk. Even if it means you'll miss the light.

It also means that, when you stop at a traffic light, you must stop BEHIND the crosswalk lines. Those neat white lines on the sidewalk aren't just for decoration, and I shouldn't have to run around your car just so you can have a two foot advantage when the light turns green.

Runners and other pedestrians, as it turns out, have some responsibilities too. You should always wear reflectors, or a light, or at least light colored clothing, if you plan to walk or run in the dark. You should use sidewalks whenever possible. (Hey, I know asphalt is better on the joints, and I won't fault you for running in the road. But, technically, the law does.) You should yield to vehicles when you are NOT at a crosswalk or intersection. And you should walk or run on the left side of the road, single-file.

Sure, if all drivers followed the rules, it would make my runs a lot more pleasant. But it's more than that, really. If we want to stop (or reverse) climate change, traffic congestion, and urban sprawl, we need to drive less.

Until we have more bike lanes and sidewalks to make that easier, we all need to start following the rules. Drivers, learn the rules of the road as they apply to pedestrians and bikers. It may not be practical for everyone to give up a vehicle, but you can do your part by being aware and making the road safer for those who do.

CROSSWALKS OF THE WORLD:
A Sidebar of Facts Mostly Stolen from Wikipedia

Globally, crosswalks are all pretty straightforward, although sometimes people get creative (like the United Kingdom's system, which includes Zebra, Pegasus, Pelican, Puffin, and Toucan).

East Germany has a unique traffic light man who wears a jaunty little hat. Ampelmannchen (little traffic light man), as he is called, has become symbolic of the East German nostalgia movement and his likeness is sold in gift shops. (The Ampelmannchen reminds me of the first time my dad saw our Birmingham walk lights and cried, "Well, hello Mr. Sparkly Man!" when he saw the bright light pictogram of a man crossing the street.)

Other cities have experimented with the Pedestrian Scramble (also called a Barnes Dance), where traffic is stopped on all four directions at once to allow pedestrians to cross any way they choose—even diagonally. These are popular in Japan, which has hundreds of these intersections. Fun Fact: One of the first Pedestrian Scrambles was in Kansas City, my hometown.