Flying Pig training: The Hoth Half Marathon

This week, winter made its presence felt in Cincinnati in the most inconvenient way possible. The skies opened up and poured buckets of snow on the city nearly every morning just before rush hour, snarling traffic and causing people to post charming Photoshops of AT-ATs invading Over-the-Rhine.

And of course, I can't find any of those pictures now. (Via.)

During the brief breaks in-between snowfalls, temperatures plunged below 0, freezing the river and prompting a correspondent for Today to do a live broadcast from Covington as the city steamed in the background. School was cancelled every day of the week. People worked from home whenever possible.

But hey, that 14-mile run isn't going to destroy itself.

The worst snowfall of the week was scheduled for Saturday morning, when we normally do our long runs, so Fleet Feet arranged for a make-up run on Sunday. The sidewalks were completely impassable, so the store devised a route that wound through suburban neighborhoods where we wouldn't have to worry about running on the streets. (Mostly.)

And it turns out those suburban families had been busy that snowy week. A crowd of snowmen were hanging out in the front yards, ready to cheer us on.

Hello!

This one had a mustache, so we had to give ourselves mustaches. Naturally.

Be the snowman. BE the snowman.

We're smiling because we're not thinking about the 12 miles we still have to run.

Thanks, snowmen! Your support pushed me to finish my 14-mile run ...

... which, since my longest run has been a half marathon, means I broke my distance record today. Not bad for a blizzard day, huh?

Flying Pig training: Hubris

"I ran 12 miles today."

"I'm training for the marathon."

I work those sentences and others like them into conversation whenever I can. I probably sound like the world's biggest ... is "douchenozzle" considered a curse word? Because I'm trying to keep it family friendly up in here.

Anyway. I'm starting to get a little worried that the people in my life will start to tire of me constantly talking about the douchenozzling marathon. And I keep meaning to pull back from talking about it so much. And then ... I don't.

Here are my reasons, as near as I can figure:

• Running (and other exercise designed to help me run better) now makes up a significant portion of how I spend my waking hours, which also means it occupies a large percentage of my headspace. Literally everything seems to relate to the marathon. "Agent Carter is great; I wonder if Peggy ever considered running the marathon?" 
• I am still a little in awe of the enormity of my goal. Repeating it out loud reinforces it to me.
• If all goes to plan, these four months will be the only time in my life when I can say these things.
• I am proud of my accomplishments and want others to know about them.

This last reason you might recognize as "bragging," as the editor of our local business newspaper did in a column last month where he advocates ridding the world of the 26.2 car decal. He attempts some self-deprecating humor by "bragging" about the accomplishments of various family members and then explaining that as much as we hate his bragging, that is how much he hates marathoners' bragging about their 26.2 in sticker form.

(Except I didn't hate it! His family sounds awesome and very dedicated to their various pursuits, and I'm happy that they've succeeded!) 

Perhaps there are some people for whom the marathon comes easy. I'm not one of those people. My marathon will be the result of nearly a year of mental and physical preparation. When the day comes, it will take me somewhere around six hours to complete the race. 

So you'd better believe that on the Monday after I cross the finish line, I will limp out to my car and slap that 26.2 onto the bumper. Heck, I might even buy a second sticker and save it for my next car.

All this training, all my time running, is building to this. It's not just bragging. It's part of who I am. And that's why I can't stop talking about it.

Flying Pig training: Eep.

Facing the beginning of marathon training last week, I had Thoughts on Twitter.

I ran eight miles yesterday. That's almost one-third of the way to my goal.
— Kelly Hudson (@kellyhudson) January 12, 2015

Here's the thing about running a marathon: I KNOW I can do it ... but I don't actually BELIEVE I can do it. If that makes sense.
— Kelly Hudson (@kellyhudson) January 12, 2015

26.2 miles is FAR, you guys. Humans can't do that! (Is what I believe. Even though I've seen it. Even though I know people who've done it.)
— Kelly Hudson (@kellyhudson) January 12, 2015

I mean, 10 years ago, I never would have thought I could run eight miles. Or three. Or one.
— Kelly Hudson (@kellyhudson) January 12, 2015

This, though ... this is something else. The marathon, man. I am a little shocked by my own audacity even thinking I might pull this off.
— Kelly Hudson (@kellyhudson) January 12, 2015

First official training run is tomorrow. Four miles. Detach from the outcome; commit to the process.
— Kelly Hudson (@kellyhudson) January 12, 2015

This weekend, I'll run 11 miles. We are fast approaching the "more miles than I've ever run at once in all my 10 years in the sport" mark.

Just keep going.

What you need for speed, part 2

In the last post I specified what a person needs to get started running (not much), what she needs to run a 5K (not much more), and what she needs to run long distances (mostly ways to conquer the psychological challenges before her).

That doesn't mean that if you decide you need more than that for your run, you're a bad person. I have found plenty of running stuff that isn't necessary, exactly, but that makes my run more pleasant. Without further ado, I present to you ...

What I need to run long distances:

• Shoes from a specialty running shop. It's a little bit of a luxury, but I swear I can tell the difference between the Sauconys a professional has lovingly selected for my personal running style and the Adidas I cheaply selected from the clearance rack at DSW. When you're a distance runner, your feet are literally everything to you. Take care of them.
• Knee braces. I need 'em on both legs, for pretty much anything longer than a mile. Sigh.
• A complete and total ban on cotton. I've seen people go out for long distances wearing cotton T-shirts, so I know it can be done. I just don't know why anyone would bother when tech shirts are $12 at Target. When eliminating cotton from your wardrobe, don't forget ...
• Socks. I've never bought sports socks with any cotton in them, so I don't know what it's like to run in cotton socks. I'm comfortable with that ignorance. 
• Underwear. Yes, special performance underpants for running! I used to think it was a scam, but there really is no point in gearing up the rest of your body and having the layer closest to your skin still be made of soggy cotton.
• A visor. When it's sunny, it keeps the sun off your face. When it's rainy, guess what? It keeps the rain off your face! Way better than sunglasses, which steam up and get spattered with sweat and sunscreen. Speaking of which ...
• All the sunscreen. It's easy to forget that running long distances means spending hours in the sun - especially when your run begins before sunrise. I can't afford to forget. I buy a spray bottle of SPF 30 and just coat myself from head to toe.
• A RoadID. This is so simple - just a little metal tag with emergency contact information that attaches to my shoe. I don't carry my wallet with me on runs, so it's just nice to know that if there's an emergency out on the course, people will have the info they need to take care of me.
• My phone. When I run solo, this is another "in case of emergency" thing - but I am also one of those annoying people who tracks her run with an app and then broadcasts it for the entire world to see. (Hmm, that might be a whole post in itself.) This is why I'm actually against the trend of larger "tab-phones" or "phone-lets" or whatever they're called - because I need for my phone to fit into ...
• A fanny pack! The '80s are back, in slimline neoprene form. Sometimes I call it a "utility belt" to make myself feel like Batman instead of an eighth-grader in an Esprit T-shirt and jorts visiting Kings Island for the day. But let's not kid ourselves. It's a fanny pack.
• NEW FOR 2014! My Pebble. When I found myself with $100 in Best Buy credit this year, I used it to buy this smart watch. It lets me view emails, texts, caller ID and more - but the real reason I wanted it is because it syncs up with RunKeeper to let me see my time, distance, and pace while I'm on my run. I love living in the future.

So to recap, here's my gear for a long run:

So much stuff!

But here's all you really need to get started:

Not much stuff at all!

Have fun out there!

What you need for speed*, part 1

*Your definition of "speed" may vary

A couple weeks ago, I mentioned gearing up for the Hudepohl 14K, and it made me think about all the stuff runners carry.

We live in a world of FitBits and fitness apps, and we are constantly sold the idea that if we don't own this or that specialty piece of performance equipment, we are Doing It Wrong.

So, based on my nearly 10 years of running experience, here are my thoughts on the gear you need to run.

What you need to start running:

• Sneakers.
• Some sort of pants that aren't jeans or work pants (sweat pants, yoga pants, leggings, whatever).
• A T-shirt.
• A sports bra (ladies).
• Your hair in a ponytail (ladies, and certain men).

That's it. That is literally all you need to get started. That's all I had that first day nearly 10 years ago, when my dad and I met to run a minute and walk a minute. Don't be intimidated by your lack of custom-fit sneakers or specialty fabrics or "sports" earbuds. Just go out there and give it a try.

What you need to run a 5K:

Not much more than the above list, really. You'll probably want to get a little more specific than plain "sneakers," but just about anything from the "running" aisle of your local sporting goods store will work. You may also decide to invest in pants and a bra made of "technical" fabric, because cotton gets wet, heavy, and HOT very quickly.

What you need to run long distances (say, eight miles and up):

• Distraction. Whether it's headphones or a buddy, you want something to keep your mind off of the fact that you're spending more than an hour constantly exerting yourself. I use a behind-the-head-style set of headphones so I can take them off and have them around my neck, and I choose the cheapest possible model so I don't feel bad about destroying them with heat and sweat.
• Hydration. You gotta do it, even if it's a pain. Especially in the summer heat. You can plan your route around water fountains and vending machines. You can make your own water stops, like a marathoner I once knew who would stash bottles of Gatorade along his route. You can arrange for friends to meet you and deliver sweet, precious fluids. Or you can carry it with you, which is what I do now. I always thought that was more trouble than it was worth, but training in 90-degree weather this year made me a believer. Now, I strap a bottle of water to my hand and take a sip every half mile or so. The evening I bought it, I couldn't believe I was spending $26 on a water bottle. Now I can't believe I spent 10 years running without one.
• Nourishment. Everyone has a different take on how often you should carb up when running. I do it every 4-5 miles, so I take 1 gel for training runs of 6 miles and up, and 2 for a half marathon. Your preferred type of energy delivery source will vary, and it might change as you gain experience. I used to swear by Sport Beans, but I prefer gel now because it's compact and I can eat it while running without worrying about silly things like chewing.
• Lubrication. Gross, right? Sorry, running is kinda gross sometimes. Put that Body Glide all over your feet, including in between your toes, and anywhere else that might chafe. You'll learn as you go where your hot spots are.

Now, I don't mean to say that this is all you should need, and anything more is bloated self-indulgence. I myself have much more gear that I use, and I'll get into that next time. All I'm trying to say is that the entry point for running is a lot lower than you might think. Grab a buddy, go out there, and give it a try! You might enjoy yourself, and you will definitely be doing something better for yourself than sitting on the couch.

Columbus Marathon training: Soloin'

My training group meets twice a week; we're given a training program for the rest of the week that includes rest days (my favorite!), a few cross-training days (which I'm bad at actually doing, because hey, isn't life a cross-training exercise?), and one other "no, really, you need to run" day.

So on Thursdays, I run alone.

One recent afternoon, I found myself more alone than usual, having forgotten my headphones. (When I'm running solo, I like to listen to podcasts. It's actually one of the little details of running I love - I get to take large chunks of  time listening to my favorite shows and classify it as something good for me!) But on this day, it was not to be. So I set out for an "easy" four miles with only my breath and my thoughts.

This was the first time in a long time - possibly ever - that I'd run without someone to talk to or my headphones to keep me company. As I trotted along, I made up a little mental chant to keep myself focused:

Take it easy
Nice and slow
You can do it
Here we go!

And as I continued down the trail (a popular spot for running, walking, and biking), I noticed something that I'd never caught onto before in nearly 10 years of running. I realized that nearly every runner without headphones in would give me a smile of encouragement, and in many cases even say, "Good job!" I'd been on this trail many times before and never noticed this tendency for other runners to encourage strangers who happened to be on the same path as them. And indeed, the runners with headphones jogged by with no acknowledgement, still in their own worlds.

And it was then I realized that I was never truly alone on a run. Not as long as another runner was on the same path. I could choose to be alone with my headphones, or I could choose to wave and smile to everyone, but I've got the choice. I'm part of a community. I'm only as solo as I choose to be.

Hudepohl 14K: The Race that Knows Darn Well it's a Race

They call it "the race that thinks it's a party."

Ha!

The Hudepohl 14K (a strange race distance created to honor a strange beer name) combines the city's brewing history with its love of running stupid-long distances, making it quite possibly the most Cincinnati race I've ever run. (Any old city can do a 5K with a beer theme; it takes a special kind of dedication to the art of running and drinking to do a 14K.) The course begins and ends at the Christian Moerlein Lager House, winding through the West End and Over-the-Rhine and highlighting with signs all the spots where historic breweries once stood. There's beer (of course) and music at the end. The finisher's medals double as bottle openers.

And it's 14 kilometers long. That's 8.7 miles.

8.7 miles is a heck of a distance. If this race really thinks it's a party, I think it's fooling itself.

So I prepared for it the way I would any long run. Proper clothing. Body Glide. I stuffed an energy gel into my pocket for Mile 4, hoping none of my fellow partiers would make fun of me for being a total buzzkill.

Turns out, nearly everyone else there was also treating it like a race.

Not a beer bong in sight.

One of the things I love about running is how it lets you explore neighborhoods in a new way. A street you've driven down a thousand times can look completely different when you're experiencing it on foot. (Take, for instance, that photo of the Museum Center above - we actually ran under the museum's driveway, through a tunnel I never knew existed.) And when the course is designed by someone else, you get to go down completely new streets! This course took me to parts of the city I might not otherwise have ever seen.

I would never have had any reason to visit this part
of OTR, as they apparently don't sell $11 hot dogs.

The other great thing about the Hudy 14K was the costumes. This race offers an unusual "tethered team" competition, which means you run literally tied to your teammates. Costumes are an element of this competition, so we saw girls in dirndls (it was Oktoberfest weekend, after all), breast cancer advocates using bras as their tethers, and this - hands down, my favorite team:

It also takes some real skill to run 8.7 miles tied so closely
to five other people. So this is impressive on a few different levels.

So I ended up having a great time at the race, and by taking it seriously and treating it like a race, I also had a great race time. And in the end, we found the party after all.

There you are!

Columbus Marathon Training: The Hills

An open letter to the residents of Benchmark and Berryhill lanes:

We apologize for getting all up in your business during rush hour.

Goin' uphill like whoa.

If it makes you feel any better, we don't like running up and down your streets over and over any more than you do.

We promise.

It's just that you happen to live in the hilliest neighborhood within running distance of Fleet Feet, and our trainers are sadistic that way. (Or they want us to be prepared. Whichever.)

Almost ... done!

We didn't even know Blue Ash had hills. (And frankly, we were OK with that ignorance.)

Anyway, hopefully we didn't bug you too much. We tried to stay in single file and not dart out in front of cars or anything. Feel free to help yourself to a cup of water or lemony electrolyte drink from our fluid station before we head on home.

Sincerely,
The Runners

Columbus Marathon training: I'll get there

"The downhill feels almost like cheating, doesn't it?"

It was a 90-degree day in July, and my marathon training group was struggling. The woman matching pace with me was supposed to be on a run-walk program, but on that Tuesday, we were all on a run-walk program.

"Yeah," I wheezed, letting gravity take over and allowing myself to speed a little down the hill.

Running in a group is all about letting go. "Find Your Happy Pace," say the shirts from Garmin, and I tend to agree with that. If your friend can't match your pace, you will do more harm than good slowing yourself down. Just go. Run at your pace. Celebrate with your friend when she crosses the finish line.

It's a philosophy I always followed with my running friends - which is why I was always the last to complete a training run. But none of those friends are training for a fall race - which is why I joined a group to train for the Columbus Half Marathon.

The group meets at my neighborhood running shop and provides pace leaders to run as fast (or as slow) as you need to keep up with your training. When I run with my pace group, I've been finishing near the middle of the pack - the first time I've ever been faster than anyone I was running with.

I've been doing this for nine years. This is the first year I've attempted to improve my speed, and I'm surprised by how difficult it is. My body settles into the comfortable motions of running a 12-minute mile, and when I gently suggest that perhaps we go for 11 minutes today, oh, the complaining that ensues!

But that day, on a surprisingly hilly suburban street, I found after a few minutes of chat with my new friend that I was pulling ahead.

"I can't keep up with this pace," she told me as she dropped back and started to walk. "I'll get there one day."

I half-turned my head and called back to her, "Hey, I'm not at the pace I want to be either! I keep telling myself the same thing! I'll get there."

It's true for my workout, and as I kept chugging down the hill, I realized that it was probably true of my life too.

I'm not quite where I want to be.

But if I keep running, eventually I'll get there.

Good news, everyone!

I completed my second half marathon, which I figure is basically the same as running a full marathon! (So I took a little break in the middle.)

Also, I beat my time from last year by two whole minutes! Hooray!

Afterward, my knees were so, so sore - I went to a movie that evening and could barely walk up the stairs. (Josh and Chele, who had also run the half that morning, didn't seem to have any trouble, but it's possible that neither of them is as big a baby as me.) My non-running friends were worried and provided me with Advil (thanks, Corrie!), but I woke up the next morning with nothing more than the mild soreness you get when you step up your workout program.

Recap and photos coming, eventually.

Training, Weeks 8-10: Springtime!

I love spring. I especially love running in spring! Here are a few of the things I get to see on my runs around the neighborhood:

• Squirrels! Usually running around on telephone wires.
• Flowers! Oh, man, this category keeps growing and growing. First there were hints of crocus, and then the daffodils sprouted, and the grass kept getting greener, and then one day I was jogging through an actual mini shower of cherry blossom petals as though I were an anime character or something. This week it's been mostly pansies, tulips, hydrangeas, and flowering bushes - I make sure to breathe deeply when I pass a lilac or viburnum. Tulips are still my favorite, though.
• Birds! Mostly robins, but plenty of other birds as well, from sparrows to wrens to (last week, in Mount Lookout Square) a yellow chickadee. (EDIT. Mr. W informs me that this last one was more likely a goldfinch.)
  
• Lots of nice dogs! Often they are being walked by their owners, who make sure they heel as I puff past. (Despite the stereotype of dogs chasing joggers, I've encountered just one dog who's tried to follow me. In Milford. On two separate occasions. And he wasn't a particularly scary dog.) The dogs pent up in fenced-in yards tend to yap at passersby, but they're probably just excited by any change to the scenery. I tell them hello - and also "woof," if no other humans are about.
• Other runners! Especially on Observatory and Madison, which seem to be popular running streets. I say hello to them all and try to smile, although I worry that in the later miles of my routes it comes off as a grimace.

Training, Week Seven Again: Missing the Mini

Week Seven began with my newfound "don't stop" goal; it was supposed to end with the Heart Mini-Marathon. But two days before the race, my friend Chele texted me: "Just so you know, I'm not running the Mini on Sunday if it's raining."

(Explanation for posterity: After a week or two of 60-degree weather, Sunday's forecast called for temps in the 40s with drizzle, sleet and maybe even snow.)

Chele had already registered for the Mini, but the idea of facing that freezing rain on a surprisingly hilly 9.3-mile course was too much for her. I had not registered, but the rain wasn't about to stop me. Yet suddenly, the prospect of running the scary hills in the terrible weather without a friend to meet me at the finish was looming, and that was too much to bear.

So, not wanting to wait until two hours before the race to know if I was running it, I made my decision: I skipped the Mini.

And guess what? Chele wound up running - even though it rained. The other friend who planned to run it with her convinced her to do it. (Guess I should have tried that. I could have gotten 9.3 miles and a sweet T-shirt instead of the "stay in bed until 1" award.)

Training, Week Seven: Don't Stop (with special guest star Katie!)

(This is the proper music to listen to when reading this post, by the by. Maybe don't watch the video, though; I'd like for you to like Brazilian Girls when you're done.)

Week Six was ending, and I headed out to Milford to do my six-mile "long run" (actual marathoners are laughing right now) with my dad and my sister, who was in town for the weekend.

Katie (my sister, not the Katie from the bacon bourbon experiment) is also training for the half Pig, but she runs faster and is using a more rigorous training program. (It actually asks her to run 14 miles two weeks before the 13.1-mile race, which seems anticlimactic to me.) She eats six-mile runs for breakfast. (Or brunch, seeing as how it was Sunday.) So she was saying that we should try to run it straight through and make a 10-minute pace and all this other stuff, and my dad and I were all, whoa girl - we run slow, and we stop and walk when we feel like it, which is usually once a mile or so.

Still, off we went. I was trying to keep pace with Katie, who I think was slowing down a bit for our benefit, so we still hadn't stopped to walk after a mile and a half. At that point, my dad - whose knee has been giving him a lot of trouble lately - tapped out and walked back home, and Katie and I kept going.

And going.

And going.

(And then we stopped because I had to use the Porta-Potty conveniently located at the three-mile mark, but then we got going again.)

And going.

And an hour or so later, I had run the whole six miles with only that bathroom break. (I was such a jerk to Katie when she said I shouldn't lie down after.)

Thanks to my lovely sister's inspiration that day, I've realized that I haven't really been pushing myself. So my new goal on any given run is to go as long as I can without stopping to walk. So far, it's going pretty well.

GO WOMEN

Man, Nike just knows how to make a video that makes you want to drop everything and go run RIGHT NOW:



Nikeplus.com seems to be down right now, so I can't tell if there's a way to enter this challenge if, like me, you don't have a Nike+ system. But if there is, I'm doing it! Good job, video!

Training, Weeks 4-6: Pick Up the Pace

Wow, it has been forever since I've posted about my marathon training! Here's the beginning of my catch-up posts:

Saturday of Week 4 was the always-lovely Strides of March Carrot Run. It's a small run compared to the Pig or the Heart Mini, but it appears to be growing. Usually I can find a spot in the main parking lot; this year, both the main and overflow lots were full. I had to park across the street in some overflow-overflow lot, and I think I was among the last people able to squeeze in there. Next year, I'll know to come earlier.


I'd be lying if I said the Strides wasn't disappointing for me this year. For one thing, since I parked so far away, I had to abandon my swag bag! (There was no way I was going to be able to stash it and make it back to the line by the starting gun. I tied my T-shirt around my waist and bid the rest of the bag farewell.)

And for another, it was a pretty bad run for me. I was too hot, and I felt kinda sick (due to the heat or the Clif bar I wolfed half an hour before race time, who knows?), and I came thisclose to just stopping and walking, which should not happen to me on a flat course after FOUR YEARS of running. I should be able to run a 5K without dying, and I should be able to run it in under 35 minutes.

I ran the whole way, but I missed the 35-minute goal.

But at least I finally remembered to take pictures during the race!


My dad at the turn-around.


Maybe I should have stopped to get a better photo of the silly fruits and veggies (plus the Flying Pig, just to remind you of what you'll be doing in two months) that cheer you on. My on-the-run photo seems somehow perfectly framed to make people in felt produce costumes and saggity pig outfits seem off-kilter. But they are very nice and encouraging!

After the race, we went to IHOP, which was nice.


So for two weeks after the Strides, my goal was to increase, um, my stride. My steps when running are kinda tiny and shuffly (especially when I get tired), and I figured an easy way to improve my pace was to just make each step longer.

And then, at the end of Week 6, everything changed.

Training, Week Three: The Plague

Ugh, is everyone you know sick as well? At least four people in my office have been knocked out by illness in the past week. Not counting me.

Last Sunday afternoon I came down with a sore throat that lasted through the first part of the week. Figuring that gasping in the 20-degree air was not the best thing for it, I canceled my Tuesday and Wednesday runs.

But by Thursday the inflammation had gone down, leaving me with just a stuffed-up nose as a souvenir. And while running with a head full of mucus is far from ideal, it's not hazardous to your health, so I endeavored to catch up with a short run Thursday and a regular run Friday.

Sundays are our "long" runs; while full marathoners are battling 12- and 15-milers, those of us following Hal's program for the half just bumped up to five miles. And crikey, was it a cold day for a run! The wind cut right through my clothes, and after about four blocks of bitter chills I considered asking my dad how he'd feel about just turning around and calling it a day.

But we kept going, and eventually the run warmed us up. Still, the cold is probably the reason we stopped to walk less often than normal. The only breaks we took? "Snot breaks" to blow our noses.

(You can add "tissues" to my list of essential running gear, by the way - at least when it's cold.)

Training, week two: The Runner's Bag in Winter

Well, the crazy 60-degree days are pretty much over now, and the weather is approaching normal February temps - highs in the 30s, lows in the 20s.

This also means that I'm back to my usual grab bag of running clothes.

If the temperature is in the 40s, I might need just a turtleneck and a light jacket, plus maybe a hat. If it's in the 20s or 30s, I'll probably have to use my heavier jacket and add gloves. If it's raining, I'll want to double up on shirts and use my water-resistant jacket. And if it's cold enough or the sidewalks are likely to be perilous, I might call off my outdoor run altogether and just do a few miles on the treadmill, which means a T-shirt and shorter pants.

So here's what's in my backpack, besides my heart monitor, shoes and sports bra (which are constants in any run):
- Three pairs running tights (one below-the-knee for indoor runs; one ankle-length with fleecy lining for super-cold days; one ankle-length unlined)
- One turtleneck
- One T-shirt
- Two pairs socks (one lower-cut pair to wear with shorter pants; one pair that comes a bit higher so there's no exposed skin between pant and sock)
- Hat and gloves

And in my car, I keep all three of my running jackets (light, heavy, water-resistant).

Carting all that around is a workout in itself. Come on, spring!

Training, Week One: Roncker's Runners

The sudden heat wave meant a lovely outdoor run in Mount Lookout on Tuesday, with pants that don't even come all the way down to my ankles! By the time we finished 3.5 miles, the sun was going down.

I was feeling good as I drove home, and I felt even better when I turned onto my street and saw a sea of tiny bobbing lights moving slowly toward me. I was witnessing that harbinger of running season in Cincinnati: the Bob Roncker's Running Spot training group.

The Running Spot group is a common enough sight in Hyde Park/Oakley, and I'll bet there are a bunch of drivers who get annoyed when it takes 15 minutes to turn onto a side street because of all the runners pounding down Madison, but I always like seeing them. They get me motivated; plus, we share a goal. (Heck, I'd consider joining them if it weren't a bit too expensive for my tastes.)

So I parked my car on the street (which took some time because several of the runners were running where I wished to park), got out, and shouted, "Good job, runners! Keep it up!"

Some of them thanked me. One yelled back, "Hey, want to give us a ride to the finish?"

We all laughed, and I made my way up the street with the runners streaming past me, safety lights blinking in the night.

Something to keep in mind during marathon training

53 Rules of Running.

My favorite is 22: "No matter how slow you run it is still faster than someone sitting on a couch."

The accidental athlete

(Written mostly because that mag I work for needed a Last Word column. Perhaps you'd like to contribute one for next week?)

I was never a runner.

In eighth grade I tried track and field and wound up doing discus and shot put, partly at the urging of my gym teacher ("You've got the body for shot put, Kelly") and partly because those events required the least amount of running during practice. Once during the season, I had to run a mile. I think it took me half an hour.

So perhaps it's understandable that I began my adulthood with a hatred of running over all other forms of exercise. "Running - ugh!" I'd say. "Give me swimming, step aerobics, the elliptical - anything but running!"

And then one day nearly four years ago, my dad called me up and asked me to go for a run. His plan: We'd run a minute, then walk a minute. Repeat 10 times twice a week; watch the pounds drop off. "You can run for a minute, right?" he said.

My dad's side of the family is plagued by heart disease, high blood pressure, high cholesterol - pretty much any health problem you can have that's linked to poor fitness. "Sure," I said. "I guess I can run for a minute."

That first gray, chilly day, though, I nearly couldn't. Not by about the eighth time my dad's watch beeped, signaling that it was time to run again. By the end of our 20-minute workout, I was nearly sick.

But we kept it up, and eventually running a minute was easy. So we tried running a minute and a half, then two minutes, then three - and then, a year after that first miserable day, we ran our first 5K.

At this point, I still didn't really like running - but, I learned, I liked 5Ks. Each one felt like I was beginning the day with a major achievement; plus, I liked getting a T-shirt and a bag full of coupons and samples.

For a year and a half, we continued running, adding 5Ks in here and there. And then, around Christmas 2007 a friend asked me if I wanted to run the Flying Pig Half Marathon, and I was kind of terrified of failure. But I said yes, and I began to train.

And somewhere along the way, I discovered I liked running. I liked taking time (up to two hours, by the end of training) for myself to do something good for my body. I liked getting out of my car and pounding the pavement in my neighborhood. I liked being out on the trail with just my iPod shuffle and my own thoughts. And I loved joining tens of thousands of other runners on that morning in May. (Here's my three-part recap.)

The half marathon was one of the best things I've ever done. I loved it so much that last week, I signed up to do it all over again. Maybe I'll even get my dad to join me this time.

I'm still not fast. I still huff and puff and marvel at fitter athletes who zip past me without so much as a wheeze.

But I am a runner.