When Sean and I first got our rescued 65 pound pit bull, he had a TON of energy. When we adopted him, we knew how energetic this breed was. We knew we'd have a lot of work ahead of us, and I planned on taking him on most of my outdoor runs. It seemed like a great way to kill two birds with one stone. Instead of taking a morning run and walking the dog, I'd just take my dog on my run.

Plus, I had heard such wonderful stories about people who loved running with their dog. Dogs they could take on trail runs, or just have them run alongside them without a leash. Runner's World magazine published story after story of people who could run with their dogs and how much it enhanced their running and brought the dog and master closer together. I blame Runner's World for giving me such high hopes.

I took him out on the first run, and he was a pain in the ass. He didn't seem to get the concept of running. He seemed to think that outdoor time was his time to stop and smell everything. Running times be damned! And then he'd catch up and pull on his leash, as if saying 'go faster damn it! Why must you run so slow?' I laughed at it, because he was forcing me to go faster. Finally! I had a coach!

When summer rolled around and the snow let up, I quickly realized that if I cared anything about my pace, I couldn't bring my dog on a run. He overheated quickly and couldn't pace himself. He'd start off running like a bullet and I'd have to pull him back for a mile(both to save his energy and mine). Another mile would go by and we'd run just fine together, then on the third mile he'd start hanging back.
"Told you." I'd joke. Try pacing yourself next time you stupid dog.

Hanging back turned into lagging, especially in the hot summer days. I brought along a whole water bottle and a portable bowl for something as short as a 3 mile run. One day I was running and he collapsed into the shade, bringing me to an abrupt stop. He looked back at me as if to say, 'We will not run another step until I'm ready.'

Today I tried to take him on an easy, 4 mile run. There's a ton of snow around, and sidewalks suck right now. Snow(my dog) was constantly darting in front of me, and I was already dodging snow chunks and ice patches. My dog has gotten used to me kicking him in the hind legs if he can't stay on on side of me.

But this week, especially yesterday, sucked on just about every single level, and all I wanted to do was have a great run to blow off stress and have some time for myself. So the things that Snow normally does on my runs really, really bothered me today. He would hang back to smell something, I'd keep running and pull him along, then he'd surge ahead at just the wrong moment, when there'd be about 3 inches of space, forcing me to kick myself in the ankles or in worse circumstances, wrapping my feet around each other and pulling me down on the ice.

It was supposed to be a 4 mile run. I turned around after 1.2 miles taking me 13 minutes. Suddenly I realized that this run wasn't fun anymore. I wasn't enjoying it, and it was making me miserable. And I wanted to kick my dog. Repeatedly. Running was supposed to make me happy, let me relax, zone out, find my stride. Or, it should make me push myself, be competitive and have a long, hard workout that I feel completely dead after. Whatever I wanted. I couldn't do that with my dog. He was a distraction and an annoyance. And most of all, I shouldn't ever want to kick my dog. So I decided that my dog will no longer be sharing any runs with me.

Yeah, it might mean I have to wake up 20 minutes earlier in the mornings, but at least I'll have my runs back.

I've signed up for my first spring race. My first race in over 6 months. Ouch, I didn't realize how long it's been, and how out of shape I've become. Last winter, when I was training(I'm using that term VERY loosely) to run(i.e. practically walk) the P.F. Chang's Marathon, I blamed everything on work and home. My main job had me working extreme amounts of overtime, without getting paid for it. For about a month I was working overnight at the office, then catching a cab home to take a shower and a quick nap before I came back to the office to do it over again. Rinse and repeat. Did I mention during that month my cigarette habit must have gone from 5-7 cigarettes a day to almost a pack? Did I also mention that I was training for a MARATHON? This was stupid on so many levels, I'm ashamed to talk about it.

That marathon was hell. I hated every moment of it. I hated my 5:50:41 finish time (my first marathon [which was also my first race ever] I finished in 4:27:32). So to have a finish like that was just embarrassing for me. I am embarrassed because I couldn't blame anyone for my shitty finishing time. I had done it all to myself. I had skipped my long runs with TNT, time I could have spent training or sleeping or whatever were dedicated to working those overtime hours without pay, and I was smoking and drinking like a teenager who had just found Dad's Marlborough lights and Mom's secret liquor stash. I've never been one to deal with stress in a healthy or even normal fashion, and last winter was certainly no exception.

Sure, I could blame my horrible mental state on everything else that was going on in my life. I was giving my time and my sleep to this company who had completely fucked me over, my second job was punishing me for showing up late to a few shifts because of my other job, and to top it off, my husband didn't have a job. So I was the soul breadwinner, and after 18 or 22 hour days, I'd come home to a messy, foodless house and I then expected myself to go out and RUN 6 or 8 miles? The idea was laughable. Any time I found myself with free time I either fell asleep, or went out on my porch to call my parents or friends and smoked and got wasted as fast as possible.

In short, I was a fucking wreck.

I was nearing the end of my training when I met Claire. This girl is my own personal guru. She works at my office and was there the whole time during the project from hell. She was working almost as much as I was, but yet she was able to constantly be training and running and cycling. Personally, I thought she was amazing and someone I wanted to but could never be, because I couldn't seem to get my act in order.

We take the same train into work. I didn't know this until she and I bumped into each other on the way in. I was smoking. At that time, I didn't know how many events she had done, but I knew she was hardcore. Anyway, she asked me how training was going and I think I looked at her like she was crazy. Here I am, smoking, and she's asking me how my training's going? Is she serious?

"Well, considering how much time I spend here, not very well," I said. Then, acknowledging my cigarette, "You must think I'm so stupid for smoking while training for a marathon."
"No." She said flatly. "I used to drink and smoke when I trained too. I get it. I mean, it's not good for you, but right now, what you're doing, is stressful."

And she left it at that. Since I already felt like a dumb ass for ruining my training, it was nice not to have an athlete talk to me without judgment. Maybe she was secretly judging me, but I didn't notice(and I doubt it).

The day before the marathon, my friend Kelly arrived in Phoenix to meet me. I was still so stressed out and so excited to just get away from all the shit that was happening in Boston, I begged her to drive me to a CVS to pick up some cigarettes. I must have smoked a pack of cigarettes that day. If I had the opportunity, I probably would have smoked one or two before the race at 4:30am.

But, it's been a year since that horrible project, and I think I'm finally getting my shit together again. I haven't had a cigarette in a month, and to be honest, I don't crave it all that much. Only when I'm really really stressed out about something do I even consider asking someone for a cigarette. I've been cutting down my drinking too. I don't go out to drink, and besides getting laid off last month (and an embarrassing scotch incident with my family), I haven't had a drink in awhile. My training is improving, and although my pace is still painfully slow, I know it will improve. If 4 years ago I went from never running before, to being 45 minutes off a Boston marathon qualifying time; then I should be able to bounce back from all these unhealthy choices I've been making the past few years.

So, in sigining up for the Fells Trail Race, a tough as nails trail race which gains and looses 100 feet per mile and I've been told that it's difficulty cannot be overstated. It's an 8 mile race which I might actually come in dead last. My friend Wes, who tried desperately hard to get me to join the Cross Country team when I was a freshman in college, told me that I will *never* come in first or last in a race. I might just prove him wrong with this race because there's probably only going to be about 50 people participating. I told Caire about this race. She's done it twice.

This time, she told me I was crazy.

Well deserved.

In the past, whenever I've tried to make up a running schedule, it's either been to easy or insanely hard. So hard, in fact, that there's no way I could have stuck to it. Problem is, I wanted instant results. But as I am so fond of quoting, "If you focus on results you will never change. If you focus on change, you will get results."

But now, I have plans to run 4 days a week, and cross train 3. I'm focusing on pacing myself, mixing in speed workouts with tempo runs, as well as my weekend long run. 3 days of core training, 2 days of cardio cross training. At least as I still have my gym membership, which I have already canceled and will only have access to until February 20. I'm excited, I hate that gym.

I swear I will never, ever join a gym again unless it's the YMCA. If it's good enough for Claire, it must be good enough for me.

So, Sunday rundown:

Pace: 10:31/2 miles
Weight: 151 lbs