If you want to make progress, you have to actually start...

Last night, I saw progress.

I felt it.

I destroyed my workout. The plan called for three mile repeats at 5K pace (actually 1.16-mile repeats based on my route) with 0.2-mile (approximately 3 minutes) recovery in between. I gave myself a 1.5-mile warm-up, running a little faster than 10-minute miles, and followed with a 0.75-mile cool down at 10:30 pace.

• 7:55 pace     (quarter splits:  2:00/2:01/2:00/1:54 + 1:15)
• 7:44 pace     (    "         "    : 1:56/1:59/1:59/1:53 + 1:06)
• 7:36 pace     (    "         "    : 1:55/1:54/1:56/1:53 + 1:06)

It has been awhile since I've really taken a workout to task like that. As I ran the last straightaway up to my final turn, I felt myself flagging. I jumped on the words "Dream Big" that my friend and fellow blogger, Dorothy of Mileposts often says, and a visual of her strong running form popped into my mind. I held it together and accelerated through the finish of that repeat. I cannot believe how fast I ran it.

If you had told me a year and a half ago that I would run my last mile repeat at 7:36 pace...wait, no...if you had told me a year and a half ago that I would run someday, I would have laughed out loud to mask my anger and frustration and sense of despair. I'd like to tell you again why.

Four years ago, I was a depressed mess. Our family had had some very challenging issues to deal with and had just moved. Due to my bum hip, I had been in constant pain for roughly five years. I 'walked' with a pronounced limp. I couldn't move fast enough to escape an oncoming car or beat out a meter maid at an expired parking meter. If my toddler son took off down the street (which he did all the time), I was helpless as I watched him tempt imminent danger. It was terrifying, and it felt hopeless. This was not a diagnosed injury, but it was very much there. The situation was taking me to the scary edge. As I was 'hitting bottom,' I found my miracle-worker/physical therapist at SOLPT (see sidebar).

Three years ago, I was pregnant with my fourth child and struggling to maintain the increased mobility my physical therapist's hard work had yielded. The failing economy made regular visits less frequent, the pain returned, and my hip made little, if any, progress.

Two years ago, I had a new baby and had to relocate again. The economy still sucked. Life was still stressful. My hip still hurt but seemed to be in some sort of stasis. I was wondering if I would ever again in my life be pain-free.

Never lose faith.

Fifteen months ago, my son took off. He does that...just takes off...always has, remember? I chased him down and caught him. Wait...what? Yes. I ran for about one hundred feet! Pain-free! I knew it was time to begin. Within two weeks, I was slogging past three lamp posts (it took about three minutes), walking forty steps frontward, walking twenty steps backward... *REPEAT*  four times in a row every other day for three weeks. It was a fifteen-minute regimen. It was a start.

Fourteen months ago, I was plodding for five minutes straight, walking twenty steps forward, walking twenty steps backward... *REPEAT*  three times in a row every other day for two weeks. It was an eighteen-minute regimen. It was progress.

Thirteen and a half months ago, I was trudging my way through two continuous, slow, hip-pain-free miles a couple of times a week. Lumbering like a giant tortoise, I was out there...doing it. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't fast, and I certainly wasn't fashionable, but after two weeks of that, I graduated from trudging to shuffling! And I completed my first 'long' run of three miles :) Again, progress.

A year ago, I ran a timed mile. I ran it in 8:51. It was hard, and it felt like a step back because a month before, I had run my first timed mile since I had started running in a speedilicious 8:45. I was bummed. But I was not defeated. I persevered. It was mental progress.

Now!

I ran three mile repeats (the last one at 7:36 pace) last night. I'm running in a 5K on Thanksgiving, hoping to crush last year's time by many minutes. The RockNRoll Las Vegas Half-Marathon is December 4th, and I'm ready to take it on. I've bravely registered for a full marathon this coming Spring. I never thought these things would be possible.

Progress.

All because I had the courage and faith to start.

Sick. Physical. Effort.

I have always been really good at math. In eighth grade, the teacher would correct everyone's tests off of my paper. I got in the 700's on my math SAT. I can add my groceries up as I shop and always come out within $5 on 6 to 8 bags of groceries. I'm not bragging. I'm just trying to show that math is one of my strong suits. 

So what happened?

Sunday's run... 12 miles. I picked an X-treeeeemely hilly run because ... because I like extremes.

I've done this run before... a million years ago. It's pieced together off of regional park trail maps. I added up all the parts once and came up with a tiny bit over 12 miles. Perfect. Or so I thought. I should've checked my math.

Here's the map of The Beast....

you can move the map around and zoom in and out to see the whole thing

View Larger Map

It looks so far when I see it on a map. It's an out-and-back with a loop on the end (point B). And 12 miles is far.


But 13.1 is farther.

One point one miles is not a huge difference. Except mentally. I realized when my Garmin beeped at 6 miles, and I had not arrived at the farthest point from the start, that I was in for more than I had planned. Throw in the fact that I was in the middle of The Widowmaker (aka Hill from Hell) and I can tell you I was a woman on the verge of something... and it wasn't pretty. (refer back to my f-bomb post...which was inspired partly by this run).

Elevation Profile of The Beast

This is a bonafide example of

sick.
physical.
effort.

I only wish the downhill had felt as noticeable as the uphill.

It was a gorgeous day and a gorgeous place... just hard to appreciate all that gorgeousness when in the middle of climbing hill after never-ending hill...

Here's the scene at 2.5 miles...beautiful rolling hills.

Naked trees at 3.5 miles.

Interestingly, when the going felt nearly insurmountably impossible, it was not the f-word that sprung to mind. My mind kept going to this amazing woman and her phrase... dream big. Thank you for that, Dorothy. 

8.7 miles in, I saw the funniest name for a bathroom door lock EVER.

And was so grateful for clean bathrooms and flushing toilets :)

My husband and I had set up for the family to meet me here, at what I thought would be the 8-mile mark. My math was off. And we had estimated my pace at 10-min miles. Ummm... a bit overly-optimistic. Even without the math screw-up, I knew after the first sllloooowwwww mile that they would be waiting.

I got to the meeting place later than we had planned. They went the flattering route and guessed that I had been running so fast that they had missed me... and they left. We missed each other by moments.

But....

Look what was waiting for me at the end!

Awesome kids greeting me at the finish!

and 

my super husband who let my sweaty self hug him :)

Distance: 13.1 miles
Time: 2:22:18
Avg. Pace: 10:52

And for those of you who enjoy hearing my charming voice, I have prepared a video. My plan was to reward myself at each mile completed by shooting a tiny snippet of video so you could see my surroundings and hear me gasping for air. That lasted for the first 6 miles. It is boring, and it required more effort to stop and start than seemed rewarding, so I scrapped that plan... and just uttered the f-word a few times. Not on camera.

I will continue to dream big.

But I might also sometimes use the f-word.

Celebratory Music... or something like that.

All of the great comments I've gotten on this and simply the act of getting it out of myself so I could see it really helped me get centered and feel solid. Thanks, everyone!

I ran last night. It was hot, as in temperature hot. For the first time in 19 years, I ran in just my sports bra...my killer Moving Comfort Juno, of course. It was awesome :) It was also dark and no one was around to witness the event...both huge contributing factors to the awesomeness :P Seeing my shadow on the street, two words jumped out at me: Core. Work.

I haven't really been keeping up with my music-sharing. I have 'interesting' preferences that are all over the map. Some of my readers have expressed vexation that I was wasting valuable bytes with my mess... or wasting their time with it, but last night a song came on while I was running and it made me think of how awesome it is that I can run. It reminded me of what Dorothy over at Mile-Posts said... "Running is a gift. We don't have to run; we get to run!"

So today you get my musical choice. Of course, you don't have to listen if you don't want to! This video cracked me up... and when I read about it, it cracked me up even more. But the song got me into a great groove last night with fantastic focus and self-belief. Go, me! And thanks, Fatboy :)

My hip has given me bad times and good.

We're in a 'good' phase right now... and I want to praise that.

Take nothing for granted. Nothing.