Author: Sloan

Git Your Booty Moving!

/ Sloan / 2 Comments

 

While on the phone with my brother Thursday, we were talking about running and training and it’s difficulties. He said he had just heard a great quote from Scott Jurek (I’m paraphrasing here) “Training is 90 percent mental, that other 10 percent is mental too.” This is all I thought about all day yesterday after I did an hour long work out in the morning and then decided I wanted to get my hour and half run in after work.

 

“Running is an evil mental game and I’m just now learning the rules.” –Sloan, cerca 2009                     while training for the Grand Rapids Riverbank 25k.

 

I’ve known that running is mental ever since I started, and I didn’t start until I was about 19.  I always hear people saying “The hardest part is getting your shoes on…” blah blah blah, that’s not inspiring at all! Though it is true, I need to know and remember that feeling I get after a great run. That memory is usually enough to get me moving.

But knowing that a run is a percent mental, the idea that if I can or can’t do it is with my attitude makes training/racing/just getting the hell out the front door way easier. And then once I’m out the front door you better believe I’m not going back until that run is finished because all I’m thinking about is how pissed I’m going to be if I turn around and go home. How unsatisfying my shower is going to feel, how my meal isn’t going to taste quite as good as it would if I’d gone the distance I had first wanted to go.

 

Basically, what I’m saying is get your booty outside, on the treadmill, in the pool, wherever you find peace with your body and finish the work out. I promise you will feel no worse off for it.

 

…and enjoy it. You know you will!

A quick tour of a small part of Baltimore: (parte uno)

/ Sloan / 6 Comments

 

In the last 6 months I have relocated my life to Baltimore, MD. When I’m not on the road traveling for work I call a small apartment between Mr. Vernon and the Inner Harbor my home. It’s truly the ideal location for a runner living in the city. I have the ability to walk out my front door for a run, or take a quick drive and be in the woods. Imagine when you step out your front door or stoop (I really wish I had a stoop) and to the left is a never ending hill, the crest can’t be seen; and to the right is a slow descend that in half of a mile it hits a path that wraps around a beautiful harbor filled with sail boats, house boats and has a sky line of old factories that beg to be researched and read about.

 

To the right—toward the harbor, there is a lot to look at and distract the runner’s mind. The path curves sharply to the left or to the right. To the right the runner can continue past the science museum, stop and get a smoothie or a coffee at one of the many vendors set up for the hundreds of tourists that come through (ackkkk,) or keep going until it gets a bit more secluded.

She can run with the water to her left through condos where the wealthy enjoy a cup of coffee on their deck that over looks the lit up Domino Sugar sign, where they can keep an eye on their boat, some may be walking their Yorkipoo or a Snorkie in the early hours. This is my 4 mile turn around, sometimes, more recently, I keep going.

A night time view of the harbor

If I continue on this direction I find myself in windy streets of mangled brink sidewalks, random trees that grow in the middle of the sidewalk with roots protruding and trying to trip me. I find row homes with unique gates and fences, maybe roses growing or perhaps some other vine that takes over the iron leaves of the grate. There is a park that’s path circles me around and around to the top of a hill where I can see the harbor again, I can see more narrow streets and take a rest on a park bench if I need to. There are signs for Fort Mchenry with arrows that point me to the left or to the right, (I’ve tried multiple times to find Fort Mchenry, but the signs lead me to get lost-a common occurrence- and I end up distracted by something else, some other discovery along my way.)

Eventually I find myself in Federal Hill—though too early for anyone but students and city employees to be up, this neighborhood is sleepy this time of day. If I were to come here on a Friday night, (trust me, you will not find me in Fed Hill on a Friday night) I would see lit up bars advertising this weeks Miller Light draft special!!!! Buy one get one shot of tequila!!!!!!!! Pizza by the slice and Frat boys with their collars popped and jeans cuffed fists ready to pump. But at 8 am the city is quiet and mine.

 

This is one of my many running routes I’ve created for myself in Baltimore City. One of many I’ll outline for you on here to get to know my city and many other cities that I visit in my travels.

 

 

Check me out

/ Sloan / 2 Comments

Post River Bank 25 2009

 

I’ve never actually seen myself run. I mean, I’ve seen pictures of me crossing a finish line; sweaty, pained face, making a bee line for the piles of bagels and orange slices, ready for a cold gulp of water and a hot coffee in my hands—but seeing me run, in motion, I’ve yet to experience. I’m not so sure I want to.

Many times on my runs I judge and evaluate other runner’s gaits, I think ooooh, she shouldn’t be in that Nike Pegasus. Or look at that guy’s calves…dang! But I also notice the way a runner’s legs move, some bow legged, some knock kneed, some don’t even bend their knees, it looks painful in some ways. All of this observing makes me wonder what the heck I look like. Do I look like a runner? Or do I look like one of those out of shape people struggling through a few miles? Do I run with the look of ease or like I’m about to have a hernia and need to be taken to the hospital?

I try to sneak a peak at my stride when I run by a window-mirrored building in the city. Quick looks over my shoulder. That messes up my stride. I slit my eyes and peer out of the corner. I usually almost trip when I try this method. All I can really end up seeing are my white legs, pink at and black jacket—no form, no method, and no proper evaluation of my stride.

 

Maybe this is for the better. I don’t want to know if I run knock kneed or bow legged. This way I can go on pretending that my stride is as good as I feel that day and as long as I log the miles it doesn’t matter.

 

…Though I secretly hope I’m the runner that makes other runners ooooh and ahhhh.