No, I will not run with you

I haven’t written a post in a while, this came to me on my run this past Sunday.

I am one of the most socially interactive people you will ever meet.  I smile and say hello to anyone as I pass them.  I am very engaging in conversation.  I was painfully shy as a child and growing up.   Anyone who knows me is probably shaking their head right now and saying “I don’t believe that for a minute”.  

I came out of my shell when I was promoted from hostess to waitress at a restaurant in North Carolina.  I’ll never forget that exact moment when my shell cracked.  I walked up to my first table.  My trainer, Lori, was right behind me.   I spoke so quietly the people could not hear me.  They were regulars, knew me as the hostess so they knew they were my “first” and actually volunteered for this awkward opportunity.   Lori promptly elbowed me in my back and said to me “You are not going to get anywhere in this position or in your life unless you speak up”.

For those of you who know me now and want to say “Good Lord woman do you EVER shut up?”  Blame Lori!

What on earth does me yammering away in the grocery store line and having the ability to find out a stranger’s third grade teacher’s gold fish’s name have to do with running?

Everything.

It takes a lot of energy to be “social” and engaging in conversation.  Bubbly.   I rarely have “alone time”.  Ever.  My time for me and only time for me is when I run.  I am not “Mom”.   I am not “Wife”.  I am not “Friend”.  I am not “Coach”.  I am “Me”.  

me m

I get invited to run with groups and individuals, a lot.  It’s really nice actually.  There are so many awesome people where I live.  Amazing people visit where I live. My schedule and family schedule make it extremely difficult for me to run when others do, however there are times when I can run with others.  I have run with other people.  I have run with a group. I’ve had a lot of fun running with others.   However, I prefer to run alone.  I want to run alone.

390595655

I am a lone wolf when I run.  I want to be left alone, just me and my thoughts.  I want my run to be on my terms.  No expectations to live up to other than my own.  I guess this is another reason why I love running on the treadmill, just me and the run. I don’t want to talk; I don’t want to be social.  I want to be alone. This is my time to reboot.  Refresh.  De-stress. 

Does this mean I am like this 100% of the time.  No.  As I said before I have run with others and groups and enjoyed it.  But these are rare special occasions. I cherish my alone time with the run.

When I am asked to run with someone, usually schedule truly prohibits this from happening.  Most often times I will be cordial and say, “that would be nice”.  In theory I enjoy people’s company and want to see the person who is asking.  Do I want to run with them?  Maybe, but the chance of it happening, slim to none.   Would I want to meet up with them after a run for coffee, breakfast, or lunch? SURE!

I love my friends, family, and running community.  I am truly very lucky to be surrounded by great wonderful people.

But for the record…

No.  I will not run with you.

#4Bunny

Many of you know the meaning of the hashtag, #4Bunny some do not. This post should explain everything.

This may not “flow” as it is very difficult for me to write.   There are a lot of raw emotions with this, some will be addressed, some won’t be, so if there seems to be a gap here and there, that is why.  This is also my second posting.  The first one I took down because to say I got “hate mail” is the understatement of the year….

Not to be cliché but I am going to enlist the help of one lovely lady by the name of Elsa to help tell my story. She is one of the most popular ladies lately and to be honest, her words help me…greatly. (Disney please don’t come after me with your firm fist and legalities, I just have a story to tell and need Elsa’s help…ok?)

My upcoming race has HUGE emotional significance. Will I post pictures? Maybe not. Will I write a race recap? Most likely not. It is personal, it is between Mom and I and no one else.

I am a “pleaser” to a fault. I like to bring love, comfort and happiness to people. To the point to where I have changed myself to be who I need to be for what someone wanted me to be, for them.

“a kingdom of isolation, and it looks like I’m the queen”

2012 I was told I needed to do Triathlons.   I signed up for a bunch.   I like training for them, because I am a runner and love the cross training aspect. I love triathlon. I LOVE IT, as a spectator and Coach, NOT personally as an athlete. It is not who I am. I am a runner. I love to run long, and slow, that is my happy place. But being the pleaser I am, I did what I was told and was miserable.

“Be the good girl you always have to be, conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know”

My Mom and I had a very special relationship. She was unique. Due to our life circumstances (we went through hell together more than once) we grew close. Cancer, death, homelessness, and abuse…we went through a lot together and survived together. We understood and accepted each other for who we were. She was my Mom and scared the CRAP out of me like any Mom should, but I knew 2000% she loved me no matter what. I was lucky to be able to have that 1 person I could always talk to about anything and everything, no matter what.

On August 17, 2013 I called Mom like I usually did on weekends. I had just run the Nevada State Games 5k and won my 2nd gold medal.

Note: Mom has always listened and supported. Always. No matter the situation, she wouldn’t say anything negative. She would show support, no matter what.

That day. She didn’t. For the first time in my life, she let it fly…..

“The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside, (she) Couldn’t keep it in”

She unleashed her fury on me….

Her words: When did I make someone else’s goals mine? When did I become a puppet?  She was angry, VERY angry. She pointed out the joy in my voice that day. She said I was always happy when I was running. I had been chasing and dreaming of ultra distances and suddenly stopped. She said that was when she noticed my joy disappeared.

I will spare the other details of the rest of the conversation, as it was a beautiful, wonderful conversation with Mom. One thing she did do and she was adamant about it, she would not let me hang up the phone until I made a few promises, the big one was to go after my dream of running an ultra marathon.

I promised.

This was the last conversation I would ever have with her.

That following week my world began to unravel. Mom was found on the floor in her home. She was rushed to the hospital. She was already frail from years of battling breast cancer that had spread into her lungs.

I spoke to a nurse via phone at the hospital. Her words “you need to get on a plane, now”.

I flew to North Carolina. My heart in my throat.   Mom was on a ventilator and they weren’t taking her off until I got there.

I remember running in the hallway to ICU. I went through the doors, walked into her room.   She looked at me with piercing fierce eyes and snapped her fingers and pointed at her legal pad and pen.   I handed them to her.   She wrote one word “ultra” and pointed her tiny finger at me. I giggled. My sisters and the nursing staff were puzzled. I put my hands on my hips “OK!!!! Seriously Mom. I promised! I flew 2000 miles for this??? GEEZ!”  She was unable to smile because of the equipment she was hooked up to, but the smile, was in her eyes….

After a lot of ups and downs and long sleepless nights, Mom passed away quietly on Sept 6th. The staff at Moses Cone Hospital was so good to “Miss Bunny” and my sisters and I. I will be forever grateful.

People in the running community were supportive and ran in Mom’s memory “#4Bunny”

I am going to wrap the rest of this up pretty quickly now. I just needed to capture the emotion and significance. After Mom’s funeral a “kink” in my shoulder escalated to THE WORST pain of my life. Only those who have had this know the depth of this pain. It was awful. I was in my own personal hell.

People were upset with me because I wasn’t “there” for them.   It hurt. Then it made me very angry. I did this to myself. It was that “pleasing” nature.   Never again. Never. Painful lesson learned when people turn on you when you are in despair.

“I don’t care what they’re going to say, let the storm rage on”

I’ll admit I was sunshine and roses on social media.

“don’t let them in don’t let them see be the good girl you always have to be”

That is what people expected from me.   What was really going on was more than anyone could even imagine.  I was in a dark place. A very, dark place.  I was confined to a chair.  I could not care for myself, let alone my family.  It took 8 hours for a medical staff to be able to get me to lie down for 30 seconds to get an MRI.   Every time I would try to lay down the pain had me screaming at the top of my lungs. The MRI showed many things wrong but most importantly that I had bone spurs on my spine sawing on my nerve chord.  Surgery was necessary.

My chiropractor was a huge advocate for me and was able to speed up the process and get me to surgery. 10/24/2013.   I am forever grateful.  Dr. Easton and Martha, you both have been more to me than just a chiropractic office.  Thank you.

After surgery true beautiful colors showed and a lot of people supported my family and me. They came with food, helping to care for my son and more.   This allowed me to be able to heal and recover quickly.

I also have to say my husband is a loving, supportive and patient man. He had to do everything as I couldn’t do anything. He was beside me every step of the way as I went through this hell.

Since spine surgery I have been slowly, and carefully rebuilding. My supportive friend, business partner, and coach, Rebecca supports my goals. She “gets” my training happy place. MY goals. Without her, I would not be where I am today.

“the fears that once controlled me can’t get to me at all”

For those who have seen my profile photo on Facebook, this is what it is about. My Mom’s name is Bunny. Her favorite color is purple (like me).  The promise I made is #4Bunny. On Sunday October 26, I will begin to fulfill my promise I made to Mom.

#4Bunny

As long as can….I plan to continue to fulfill that promise….

“It’s time to see what I can do, To test the limits and break through, no right, no wrong, no rules for me, I’m free!”

 

 

Boob. Breakdowns. Broken Body. Baggage. Ballpark Pretzels and Broad Street.

Part 3 of 4. I know I said 3 parts, but geez, some times I run long. I talk a lot. Imagine that.

The continuing saga:

My husband takes off with our son to back track through the airport in hopes of finding the lost bunny. I go to stand in the whereismybagpleasetellmeyouhaveit line.

Before anyone says JACK: “You should know better and carry on your essentials” I DID. I carried on my son’s. I am a Mom. His stuff outranks mine. PERIOD. So thanks, but no thanks, for all the unsolicited advice and scolding I received.

I was soon ushered into a closet office by agent “A” I know her name, saw it on the nametag. But I refuse to throw someone under the bus. The monotone “Name”, “Address” questions were asked of me. I said out loud (mind you calmly) trying to wrap my head around a lost bag that had 2 hours to get from Plane A to Plane B, my husband and son’s bags made it, why didn’t mine? I said to A “I know you had nothing to do with this, I am just tired, but I don’t understand why my bag didn’t make it and that there is no tracking information on my bag?”

A gives me the “talk to the hand” body position and eyes wide “Honey, your energy is like whoa. You were not discriminated against. Your bag was one of 100 lost today. We don’t have a computer system that can tell us where your bag is.” * Insert scratching record sound here * Breathe. If I am number 100, 99 before me have probably ripped her a new one. Not her fault. I hear my son behind me bawling over his lost bunny.   I will not fall apart I will not fall apart I will not fall apart….tears in 3…2…1….

I got dizzy; my hearing went into a tunnel. What did she say about my energy? My bag was one of many lost today? Was I told to talk to the hand? I had mentally prepared for “I am sorry for the inconvenience” or “we’ll try to locate your bag” um…anything other than “Honey, your energy is like…whoa ”. A, honey, it’s called taper.

I stood there. In shock as a piece of paper was shoved in my face. “If we find your bag we’ll call you”. I have known a lot of people who have had lost bags on other airlines, including myself. They were given bare minimum toiletry kit to get them through the night and typically some sort of apology for inconvenience. I was given a piece of paper and a “do not call us, we’ll call you”. No apology just a gettheheckoutofmyface.

I try to be positive in social media. I do. There are enough “oh boo hoo’s” out there. I was exhausted and frustrated and said something on Facebook and Twitter.

Screenshot_2014-05-16-16-58-51-1

Well…my Twitter family (especially Mug and CinCin) came out guns blazing to my rescue. So much so a Southwest employee out of Dallas, TX saw the activity and contacted me. He took ownership of my lost bag. Wow. This is the Southwest I know, but geez…he is in TX???? Not even remotely close. But he took it, and ran with it.   I heard from no one locally. The only communication I had was from my new Twitter buddy. Thank you @SouthwestRob.

Luckily we were staying with family, I was able to sponge off them to have enough to be able to take a shower and snag some of my niece’s clothes to sleep in.   I started putting Plan B together in my head for race day. I had my IRC shirt I was wearing and most importantly my shoes. I would need GenUCAN, shorts, a sweatband and socks. I sent a quick text to a friend.   “You do realize if my bag is not found, I will be racing…. in pink.”   For anyone who knows me, they know that my message was met with maniacal laughter. I don’t “do” pink. I like it on other people, love when a bada$$ athlete wears it, but you know, me personally, not so much.

A quick trip to Target, a local running store (YAY for GenUCAN), and the expo, I collected the bare minimum to get me through to race day. Many thanks to my brother and sister in law Bill and Lisa who served as my taxi and nieces Jennifer and Jessica who loaned me their shirts, sweatshirts and PJ’s.

Thank you local teammates Neeli and Kristin who were giving me addresses and locations to find GenUCAN and offering to bring things to me. A huge thank you to Fairmont Running Company for giving me the local running club’s discount.   The running community is something else, a great big huge supportive family. Group hug.

My phone rang around 7pm. My bag had been found and was out for delivery, estimated arrival 10pm.   A humorous text conversation with a highly caffeinated delivery guy by the name of PJ, my bag was delivered, safe and sound shortly after midnight.

TYRBAG

I collapsed face first on the bed, and slept, like a rock.  I want my pretzel.

Boob. Breakdowns. Broken Body. Ballpark Pretzels…no wait BAGGAGE. Broad Street.

And so the story continues with part 2 of 3…. 

2012. Breakdowns.

I was late to the race. I wasn’t able to connect with my pacer. I was so focused I missed the cake lady on her corner. I did hear her yelling, people later told me this year it was red velvet cake, and she was sharing. Dang.

I also missed my husband and brother in law at mile 9. I crossed the finish crying. No. I was a sobbing, blubbering mess. I had not PR’d. Had not reached All American. First thing said to me by the first person I talked to after the race was “where did you go wrong?” I was crushed. I had “friends” turn on me saying they wanted no part of someone who could not succeed. One of the most painful days of my running career, ever. However, if you talked to my son, he would tell you I won.

Race recap of 2012 can be read in its entirety:

https://coachkristie.com/2012/05/09/2012-blue-cross-broad-street-run/

Mile9

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2013. Broken Body

We decided not to travel to Philly in 2013. I still entered the race, the first year of the new lottery system, and gained entry. Whew. I was able to defer to 2014. Thank goodness as my body fell APART in 2013.

What happened in 2013:

https://coachkristie.com/2013/10/18/back-into-the-ring/

neckoween

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2014. Ballpark Pretzels will have to wait. BAGGAGE.

So. Here we are. Boobs still in tact. Breakdowns, over. Long gone are my 8 minute miles. Forget All American for right now, it is about rebuilding and being able to run again.

Broken body, recovering? Kinda sorta. Coach Rebecca and I have been rebuilding me slowly and carefully. My body has good weeks and bad weeks with recovery. Thankfully the fatigue and pain is completely gone. In the last few weeks before the race there were a couple set backs.

Set back #1:                       ******BREAKING NEWS*******

Dear friends and family it is with a sad and heavy heart that I announce the passing of my dear trusty treadmill. 7 years and over 11,000 miles, it was given the dreaded “it’ll be cheaper to replace it than fix it” diagnosis. It served me well. BUT RIGHT BEFORE A RACE???? SERIOUSLY? Ok, spoiled me, I have a gym membership. The gym is open 24/7/365. The treadmills there shut off at 60 minutes.   #spoiledtreadmillrunnerproblems.

Yes, I can hear several people saying “Uh, HELLO?! Run outside?”. Hi, let me introduce myself, I am Coach Kristie, we obviously have not met….

Set back #2:

In the 2-3 (?) weeks leading up to the race I was experiencing this crazy thing with my leg.   I could run 30 minutes and then my glute would lock up and make my leg go peg straight. Think Pirate. ARRRGGGGHHHH. Makes for an interesting quick dismount on a moving treadmill. Back up and punt, I could get on an elliptical without this happening.   I was getting nervous. Didn’t tell anyone how nervous I was, but I was at near panic. You see Broad Street is a big, fast, race. You can read on the website, they are not exactly walker friendly.   Strategy was to enjoy the race and finish. Strategy change, it was to finish and not get pulled off the course. New plan: run as long as I could and walk through aid stations.

A visit to my chiropractor in the days before we were to fly out to Philly resulted in a diagnosis and solution to my “peg leg”.   My chiropractor discovered an adhesion in my neck blocking nerve signals to my leg. He taught me a vascular release that I could do while running to stop the peg leg. He also taught me a lymphatic release I could also do while running that would help drain the lactic acid from my psoas. My psoas was causing my glute to lock and my leg to rotate outward. Lots of stretching and yoga was encouraged. Cobra and Pigeon pose are my friends.   He had me practice the releases so he could make sure I had it down. This is what I feel like when I am doing them:

rubheadpattummy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Uneventful travel with on time or early flights and seamless layovers we arrive in Philadelphia. Exhausted, we have been up and traveling since o’dark thirty, mind you, with an energizer bunny of a 7 year old. We were so ready to see family and settle in for the night. As we sit and watch the suitcases circle around baggage claim, an unsettling feeling hits me. My husband and son have their bags. Where is mine? There are only 2 to 3 left going around and around and around.

I will not freak out I will not freak out I will not freak out I will not freak out

At the exact moment I am being flagged into the “lost baggage” reporting zone my son completely starts crying and freaking out as he has somewhere from plane to here, he dropped “hoppy” his stuffed bunny he received from the Easter bunny.

Long travel day + lost bag + taper madness + freaking out child = Mommy is about to lose her sh&t. It is all I can do to keep it together. I can feel myself falling apart at the seams. I tell myself. It is Southwest Airlines. They are KNOWN for fantastic customer service. It will be ok.   It will. Breathe……..

Boob. Breakdowns. Broken Body. Ballpark Pretzels. Broad Street.

Broad Street 10 Miler Race Recap- Part I of 3

2011: 1:24:05          Div. 163          Overall 5334

2012:   1:26:02        Div. 284          Overall 8977

2013:   Deferred

2014: 2:00:46          Div. 1657        Overall 30,950

2011. Boob

The untold story of 2011 Broad Street.

Yep. You heard me right. For those who know and those who don’t, I am a breast cancer survivor. I was lucky for it to be caught very early. After a successful lumpectomy, I was left, well…looking like a shark took a hunk out of me. I lived with it for years. Finally had reconstruction in 2010.

The day before leaving for Broad Street to run this race for the first time, I woke up with something missing. HOLY CRAP where did my boob go!!!!????? Yep. There she blows, GONE. Imagine adding this into the mix with taper madness. Fun huh? Not so much.

I have a “sockerstition”. I run with a new pair of experia socks every race day. This day, I wore 2. Thank you Thorlos for protecting my feet, and yes, filling in (literally) for one of the “girls” who decided to back out of this race last minute.

The course is alive with spectators, musicians. My favorite memory was of a woman (if you read the Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum novels, picture Lula) standing on the side of the road holding a GIGANTIC chocolate cake and a fork. She was screaming at the runners “Y’ALL RUNNIN’!!!! I GOT CAKE!!!!” The next fond memory was of my husband and brother in law cheering for me at mile 9.

Had a blast running this. It was instantly my favorite race. It wasn’t until I returned home from the race and someone sent me a message telling me “DUDE, you were almost a USATF All American, you should go for it!” . So. I decided to go for it.

Picture below is just before the start of the 2011 race. Stay tuned for Race Recap Part 2 of 3.

QUIT STARING AT MY SOCKS!!!!!

 

Beat It!

The Comeback Coach

I have had a lot of sincere inquiries as to my progress on rebuilding myself. So here you go.

For those who know, and who don’t, 2013 was quite possibly one of the most challenging years I have ever had. I lost my Mom and best friend to Lung Cancer, I had a mass removed from my sinus cavity and unexpected emergency spine surgery. The whole year tried me emotionally and physically well beyond my limits. Physically my sacrifice was my most cherished gift, my gift of the run.

Let me translate. I can run again, finally. But it used to be easy, really easy. Now, most days it is a fight. It is hard.   Some days, my legs just don’t work and I just, well, can’t. I have had to start over as if I just started running.

At first it hurt. I cried. A lot. I threw things. I used to look at a 1 hour run and in my head and I would say “easy peasy 6 mile or more run in zone 2”. Now, I am thrilled for close to 4-5, or even being able to run the full hour without walking.

My favorite race is the Philadelphia Blue Cross Broad Street 10 Mile Run. I have a lot of family there, the Rocky soundtrack blares and the spectators are just second to none, and hello there is a soft, huge, ballpark Phillies special pretzel at the finish. I have run it twice. My best time was 1:24:00. I will be toeing the start line for the third time in a couple weeks. My run is not what it once was. It will get there again, but the healing process is slow.   I hope to finish before the cutoff of 2:30:00.   That is a far cry from 1:24:00. Shoot, my ½ Marathon PR is 2:03.

I am 10lbs from my “normal” weight, thank you surgery, 15lbs from “game face” weight. I keep getting snide remarks and have had a few people ask me “when are you due?”. The best one “You’re a Coach? Shouldn’t you be thinner?” People are mean. Some thrive on other’s setbacks. If I have been that for someone to keep them from bullying someone else, I am happy. But you know where I am right now? To be bluntly honest, I am happier than I have been in years. YEARS.

I am healthy. Pain free. I am in remission from cancer since Aug of 2009. My son is growing like a weed and thriving in school. He is my mini me and I love him more than is humanly possible. My husband is handsome, brave, and (TMI) flat sexy. I am a LUCKY woman.   I am a Coach of and a member of a badass team of coaches and athletes at Team PRS FIT.   How many people can incorporate their passion into their career? Only the lucky ones for sure, and I am one of them.

As a Coach, I trust the process. So as an athlete, I trust the process. Coach Rebecca is rebuilding me slowly and carefully. I have to listen to my body very carefully. Some times it whispers, some times it screams, but I listen.

People ask me when I am planning my “comeback”.   I don’t know, my body will tell me. But I will tell you this. There is one thing that has made a comeback, my love of running.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I prefer *gasp* the treadmill

Runner treadmill ILLUS.jpgI have a reputation for being the “Treadmill Queen”.  I wouldn’t call myself a Queen; Court Jester would be more accurate.  When it comes to the treadmill go ahead and prepare to call me freak, sick, strange, crazy, whatever name you should choose but in all honesty I prefer to run on the treadmill.

There.  I said it, the “anti” runner statement.  But it is true.  On a brisk 40-50 degree day (“perfect” running weather) you will find me on the treadmill.  Shoot, pretty much most of my runs, you will find me on the treadmill.

In an attempt to get 99% of the running community to take a glimpse into my alter universe I will provide you with the multitude of reasons as to why I personally prefer to run on the treadmill, in no particular order:

  1. No dogs off leashes.  Well, there is one.  But he snoozes on the yoga mat beside the treadmill and the worst thing he does is pass gas.  I have been chased over walls, had ankles and the back of my leg bitten by all shapes and sizes of dogs, cats and oh I live in the desert…. don’t get me started on Coyotes.
  2. No stoplights.
  3. No rattlesnakes.
  4. The nearest bathroom is 3 feet away, it is clean, not a bush or tree that I hope is wide enough to hide me, has toilet paper stocked (well, that can remain to be seen as I am the only female in my house, but at least I know where the spare rolls are kept), it also has really pretty smelling soap in there.  BONUS.
  5. I can wear a sports bra and shorts and not worry about looking like a busted can ‘o biscuits hanging out everywhere in the land of Cirque performers.
  6. No cars.
  7. No motorcycles.
  8. No creepers that seem to be lapping the block over, and over, and over, and over. Shudder
  9. No random poles, stop signs, light posts that jump in front of me and crash into me.  I mean really?  The nerve.
  10. No rocks or other objects to trip over.  Or the desert hare that ran in front of me with comedic timing and ended up getting punted.  Let me tell you something so cute can REALLY give a mean stink eye.
  11. I like to run light.  The treadmill holds my water bottles, cell phone, fuel, snot rocket towel, HR monitor watch, and sweat towel.
  12. Can’t step in poop.
  13. Temperature and climate control.
  14. I can watch TV or a movie if I want.  I never have, but I could if I wanted.
  15. If I take it to the puke zone the trashcan is next to the treadmill or refer to #4.
  16. I listen to my iPod and don’t have to worry about hearing my surroundings, I can get lost in my music.  I can also sing out loud without crazy looks, well, unless the family is home.
  17. I can control my pace, timed surges, etc. without OCD checking my wrist.  Just a quick glance at the dash and touch of a button.
  18. If my clothes are stained, don’t match, ugly, stinky, only person to bother is me, and or refer to #1 the dog with gas that sleeps on the yoga mat.
  19. I can control my elevation gain.
  20. Sun safe!  Sunscreen not needed.
  21. I can’t get lost.
  22. No chance of accidental bug ingestion.
  23. Can’t get pooped on by a bird or have one crash into my head (yes this has happened to me twice).
  24. I can completely zone out and not have to be aware of my surroundings.  I solve the world’s problems in my head.  And well, think of blog posts like this one….
  25. When my son was a newborn and my husband worked graveyard shift and slept during the day we did not have a fancy stroller, it was my only way to regain sanity.  Without it for MANY years no treadmill, no run.  For anyone who calls the treadmill the “dreadmill” I want them to be faced with the harsh reality that if they want to run THE ONLY way they CAN is on the treadmill. How quickly they will appreciate the treadmill.

Do not get me wrong.  I love to run outside, in nature.  The sights, the sounds, the smells.  But given a choice I will take the treadmill thank you.

*