So my friend, who recently began running in his efforts to complete a half marathon, told me he can run 5-minute mile pace for 3 miles.  Not to be a doubter, I'm not so sure if he can.  Especially at this moment in time, I know I cannot do that, and I don't think he's faster over the distances as me. 

I am not exactly in any sort of racing shape, or any sort of shape to be wagering bets with boys - let alone young men in their mid-twenties - but I feel like I ought to be able to beat this one in particular.  And this is not because I don't like him.  Rather, I consider him a great friend, not just because he's one of my boyfriend's best friends.  Snobbishly and competitively, I just feel, mid-way through my 11th year of running competitively, like I ought to put this male running novice in his place.

How could he just come fancy-footing into "my" thing - the thing that's made me definably different in this social circle - and whomp me?!  What about the Trials of Miles and long years of arduously compounded training and thorough dedication?  And, Oh, what of the sacrificial lifestyle choices and resolve to outlast yogging trends of mediocracy; the aim to tremendously outdo the predominately male couch-sitters and their assumptions which pervade the world!?

Persist, I must.  I feel as though i ought to carry the intentions of female runners everywhere, who may chuckle to themselves when stocky, muscular, fat, skinny boys and men alike chug, sprint or otherwise hurl themselves past any sports-bra-clad wearing runner - be she cooling down, running 10 more miles, or simply fighting the odds.  This is like a battle of the sexes.

Maybe I got fired up by some dumb, bigoted posts on LetsRun.com last week which one of the other assistant coaches pointed out.  Regardless of those posters' ignorance and ridiculousness, their prevailing myths prevail: we find countless "reasons why females can't run faster and compete harder after puberty or in college."  I see these myths manifested, I hear of their perpetration from older women and high schoolers alike, and I want to dash them.

Maybe I am feeling combative; JJ - the friend new to running - did not even say "I can beat you."  I just did the math insinuated by his words and cried "Fallacy!"  Regardless, I could not resist saying, "we're finding a race over Thanksgiving when I'm visiting home and Portland and It Is On."  Frozen turkey prize or not, I want to throw down at some local 5k, to pick off men's masters champions at a community fundrasing 5-miler.

So, I found a Turkey Trot.  I have 12 days to get my sleep-deprived, lackadasically running mileaged self into shape.  That is, in order to defend - more than embarass - my cause.

As the cross country championship season takes flight, we're called to toe a line or two, or three.

So we open our competitive selves up to vulnerability; so we learn to let the inevitability of each day be. 

As Zel Brooks - someone who could not participate on any high school or college running teams because she was female and ran events that were not yet sanctioned for competition for women; and someone who's faced tremendous adversity but still opted to follow difficult courses over decades - reminded us yesterday: Winners keep running because nothing can take the place of persistence.

So the forecast says "showers" but the mild Corvallis day instead offers flurries of colorful leaves.  Students are scurryng around campus as usual, but the XC ladies are getting ready to take off - and heading south to Eugene in preparation for tomorrow's Pac-10 Conference meet.

Come cheer on the Beavers, who'll toe the line to race at 2:25pm on Friday, Oct. 31st. (HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! ...but who needs another reason to wear black and orange?!)

Directions to    90333 Sunderman Road, Springfield, Oregon 97478

·         Take Exit 105E/126E off of I-5 and stay on 126E for 7 miles.

·         Take the 42^nd Street/Marcola exit and make a left on 42^nd street for 0.4 miles

·         Take a RIGHT on Marcola for 4.4 miles until you reach the intersection of Marcola and Sunderman Road – there maybe parking available at Golf Course if you get there early enough

OSU Beavers XC took the spectator-lined, well-manicured Mike Hodges Invitational course at Clackamas Community College in stride - even without their top three and four other teammates.  Orange- and black-clad friends and family cheered on the ladies as they raced with several of the regions' top teams - including the nationally-ranked Oregon Ducks (2) and University of Portland Pilots (33) - to a third place finish.

Stoddard Reynolds captured some awesome shots of the ladies on Saturday - an epitome of the Northwest's temparate autumn.

Thanks to all of you who came out to provide support!  The ladies are now looking forward to next Saturday's BEAVER CLASSIC at Avery Park, hosted by the Corvallis Running Project. 

Fall is in full swing in Corvallis, as evidenced by the trees ablaze with autumn hues as the nationally ranked OSU Beavers XC team tears up the trails around campus. 

After an awesome trip to Alabama, where the ladies finished strong to finish 2nd at the Auburn Invitational, and another week of solid training, the Beavers are looking forward to competing this Saturday, Oct. 18th at noon, in the Mike Hodges Invitational at Clackamas Community College in Oregon City, Ore. 

Family, alum and other Beaver Believers are encouraged to cheer on the ladies!

Some steeple clock chimes eight o’ clock over the sound of the Willamette Valley’s late summer, which is breezing through leaves outside my open windows.  Bruised legs, half-opened boxes and strewn-about things signal the seasonal transition.  Although this transition involves running and its greater causes, I’m luckily no more injured than I am moved. Finally, I leapt in the direction whose door was cracked open.

I have loved coaching high school xc/track, training/competing with strong women, directing good causes [to improve athletic facilities and access to them for all], etc. in my hometown.  But feeling farther away from certain loved ones tugged at my soul; being in Portland rendered me conflicted among all the migrating uberhipsters and all the closely knit running community ties.  Late into the winter and spring, I thought I knew I’d be heading east to pursue an opportunity to coach cross/track at the collegiate level. 

So I researched, reached out and put myself out there for consideration for whatever position I could find to pursue my perceived passion.  I waited, and waited, as I went about the aforementioned tasks – completing coaching the spring high school season, healing my spring accident-injury, working how I could, and assisting high school running camps at various altitudes in high-peaked mountains.  Somewhat serendipitously, one college coach encouraged me to call another between sessions spent working at Steens Mountain Running Camp. 

Lo and behold, the direction in which I got to leap was disclosed: south.  South meant away from all loved ones, away from any plan, away from assumption.  South meant closer to aspirations, closer to my gut, closer to exploration.  That said, heading south didn’t mean heading that far south, but even a slight change in geography can have massive implications for relationships and living, let alone running!

And although it is not easy to opt to be in a new and different place and to do a new and different thing, this experience is amazing.  Easily, I am immersed in the enthusiastic, vibrant, competitive, hard-working team, and I find myself enjoying coaching more than I ever have.  True, I’ve raced a few of these ladies and led some of them at summer running camps when they were in high school; but witnessing the collegiate student-athlete experience and the unique environment fostered by an inspiring coaching staff exceeds any expectation I might’ve had about assisting a Division I Pac-10 program. 

This is diving in and I’m loving it, even though I’ve yet to discover where my spatulas are packed.

    Coming back from an injury is a humbling experience.  After one of those injuries that wholly derailed whatever course you sought to chart, you might find yourself gasping for air after a 20-minute run.  In those moments, it is hard to tell whether your body or pride is more uncomfortable.

    I recently found myself at this juncture, where excitement and dread collide, after an accident added insult to a chronic oveuse injury.  As patterns of this spring would have it, I happened to get hit by a car while riding my bike to work; and contrary to my insistence that I was fine, my body needed to heal from those impact injuries I sustained.  After time off, my excitement spawned from the idea of being able to get out the door to run and my dread bubbled up from the physiological facts of inactivity. 

    Thoughts about the workouts I did not complete, the races I did not finish (let alone start), and the times I did not hit festered to some degree in the back of my mind, but much like with the [relatively very lucky and not serious] accident, I barely had a split second to respond.  Something clicked.  Contrary to how injuries undoubtedly diminish the competitive collegiate runner’s oft-self-absorbed identity, my schedule was sufficiently jam-packed that I could not skip a beat.

    I could almost hear my Achilles and knee muttering, “Take a hint.”  So, coaching high school track revealed significant learning moments.  Spectating burned subtly; but sitting back provided a unique perspective.  Icing required I sit still.  Directing the Cleveland Community Field Project enlivened my determination. 

    I poured energy into endeavors to which I’d been previously committed; and I could not help but realize four lessons I hadn’t had truly to re-learn for a couple years.  First, control evades not just the compulsive distance runner but the entire human race.  Second, reason is hidden in apparently random orders of happenstance.  Third, over-extending one’s commitments renders them all moot.  Fourth, running enables feeling alive – whether that life is ridiculously out of shape.

Early spring introduces spandex in a new way after winter’s lengthy dependence on the fabric. Mid- to late spring, in cahoots with sun, begs further shedding of layers - of Drifit, CoolMax, Techni-Running-Fabrics. And this is when my senses are assaulted by skorts parading and/or plodding around as I run and/or bike. Those things – whether slim-fitting and fashionably black or baggily-hanging and hot pink hibiscus printed – strike me as ridiculous.

You couldn’t pay me to race in a skort. Well, maybe you could, but I would not be very agreeable. Skorts are entirely un-needed on the track and on the cross country course, and are less essential than gimmicks like FuelBelts on the road circuit. At least those goofily-fun-looking high socks and separated sleeves serve a purpose or two. Give me a good reason why a competitive runner ought to don some drippy extraneous cloth over her bum and I’ll consider it, but probably disagree.

Obviously, I have felt an intense urge to compose a diatribe on skorts. In that process, I realized I would actually have to articulate the reasons I despise them. First, skorts contain too much material for me to even consider on a warm day like today. Second, if spandex shorts float your boat by reducing chaffing, not riding up and/or keeping jiggles put, why can you not rock them alone? Third, um … spring’s pending merger with summer distracts me, as does the Meet of Champions and other weekend results.

But I still feel that a skort mocks our sport and our sex. Isn’t this product representative of another inside joke with corporate developers thriving in a market which creates a “need” for a solution to a problem based on the same market’s desecration of women’s body image? In the marketplace, many females – including a niche of runners – are made to think they ought to cover up. If only our bodies were nearly as alright to bare as those who've accquired air-brushed perfection! We may be made to think we ought not bare because our bodies are not good enough.

When I worked at Portland Running Company, where I tried a skort on to model and get-get-to-know the product, most clientele seeking the product were nice ladies born of an era when it wasn’t nearly common or acceptable to exert one’s female self running, say, much more than a 5k. And yet, bodily modesty – whether a highly regarded virtue – seems rarely practiced by male runners of any era.

I dare the recreational jogging women with their knee-length synthetic skorts and trophy wives with their short pink Hawaiian versions, to simplify: bare it. All those beer-bellied, hairy-backed men heaving along bike paths and waterfronts across America get to strut their stuff, so what’s the problem with a little cellulite or estrogen-plumped skin, especially while all their jiggling is making stronger, healthier women in a weaker, sicker society?

Understanding the insecurities that female runners and women in general might have with their selves and/or bodies, I have learned that exposure is a great way to let such demons dissolve. Let them sizzle to salt in hot sweat as we uncover – slowly but surely – bare-boned truths of ourselves. Running, we are stronger and more beautiful. So, I took off my shirt today and bared my shoulders. And let me tell you, the breeze felt marvelous against my skin.

It’s Heps weekend, which is definitely go-time for the most competitive of Ivy tracksters. Prior to Heptagonal Championships in cross country as well as both track seasons at Columbia, the team mentality seemed to be most re-instilled in all of us athletes, whether we were lucky enough to be able to compete. I remember watching heart-wrenching performances in the spring of my senior year. As I sat next to a stellar, but injured, teammate who should’ve been out there contending for Heps titles, I was dying to hop over U. Penn’s brick walls and onto the track to get some points. True, I wanted to be out there just because I wanted to be out there, but I also wanted to be out there because I wanted to help out my team.

Team-oriented environments seem to bring out the best in people – or at the least induce some degree of faith, pride and/or trust people might be hard-pressed to find in themselves as individuals. This is why my perspective as a currently whiney post-collegiate runner is rendered nostalgic. I love that spirit exuded by teammates in championship season; its sparks are tangible as they electrify performances.

My appreciation for the opportunities presented by the likes of Team XO, then, makes sense in consideration of any craving for team-ness. However detached I might geographically be from the majority of XO’s conglomerated athletes, my adoration for their endeavors transverses our OR. And this is a dang good, inspiring thing when I’m feeling bummed about not having yet raced this season, be it for myself or for a team – which is not to say I’m experiencing a dearth of inspiration.

That considered, and recreational joggers - it might be a soft J - disregarded, I’m delighted by those who currently strive to better times on the tracks and roads which criss-cross our communities. Running post-collegiately unquestionably offers a different type of team environment than sanctioned high school or college competition. Post-collegiate competition casts a wide net. Surprisingly, I feel this net draws atomized runners together. Nary a runner, however sold on the loneliness principle, denies the small-world-ness of our sport.

Take, for example, the US Olympic marathon Trials in Boston. Although I’ve wondered about the relatively watered down qualifying time when compared to track standards, this event is remarkable. Qualifying to compete three weekends ago on the old eastern port town’s spectator friendly, loopy course was no easy task for those brave souls who did just that. Running the marathon trials was an opportunity made possible, even accessible, by countless women, including those who ran before for those who will run in days to come.

Watching that race, I felt the marathon – undisputedly emblematic of long distance running – was possible, even accessible. I witnessed some of their stories; I heard some of their tales. I got to reflect on performances which somehow seemed to be electrified by tangible sparks.

Out of six who competed in cross country/track at Columbia through graduation – out of the same class of eleven freshman plus one transfer, two are training at an elite level. The others might jump in a road race or train when an opportunity presents itself, but each of us is juggling assorted priorities and assumed realities. Busy schedules and multiple responsibilities do not evade the two who train to compete at a high level of competition. Rather, it seems that those who are successful in such endeavors figure out how to finagle life’s work-play-rest rhythms. To me, that is remarkable.

Good post-collegiate runners take the cake, and eat it too, because they (a) live a lifestyle conducive to performing at a elite level and/or (b) maintain a commonsensical perspective on expectations in relation to their daily lives. (A) and (b) are easier said than done, as is the arduous task of training whether with a team or training partner. To me, it’s no wonder 98 percent of female runners quit competing post-collegiately, or whatever majority some statistic I heard quoted some time ago (can someone find that study, please?! Or tell me it’s a guesstimation).

I wonder if it seems to be about this time in other American distance runner’s lives when the unquestionable loneliness of the sport can set in. Depending on where you are and what you’re doing, you’ll probably wind up going about it alone. A uniform or team to compete for renders getting out the door a task less questionable, but with or without those, you might wonder to what extent your identity ought to meld with running. No one’s expecting you to accomplish any PR for any race like they might have before, especially if you were never at the top of collegiate standings.

Within the mountainous unstructured territory after graduation, I led myself into the familiar pattern of training. I deviated somewhat from the path of previously patterened conditioning with my newfound freedom. But with a “real job” and/or “volunteer projects” and/or “social life” and/or what I’m “supposed to do,” the activity required for whatever responsibilities I assumed butted heads with the energy expenditure required for running, especially running competitively.

Hard training requires more than energy; it requires considerable investments of emotion as well as time. When training competitively, stress fractures are dehabilitating, self-imposed pressure crippling, intervals deadening, etc. But is there a way to reach for incredible marks or high dreams, without running such risks? I don’t think we want women’s distance running to be less arduous, but where our bodies draw the line in the sand of grainy, infinite possibilities is muddled by what society thinks we ought to do.

This might suggest why so many post-collegiate running ladies fall into the catchall of recreational running, if they continue at all. There, running is conventional, safe and easily fit into a busy capitalistic lifestyle. There, women’s running is an easily mass-marketed pastime, offering the widespread and generally applicable benefits of running. [Note: a diatribe on skorts, so emblematic of recreational jogging culture, shall appear if deemed appropriate.]

Deciding to run after college, whether recreationally or competitively (like Kate O'Neil over there), presents a conundrum, which requires weighing commitment and benefit. Attempting to quantify such things seems somewhat ridiculous, at least until you realize you have some responsibility to consider profit. Hopefully, then, your gut and/or your heart renders rational thought moot. Why should you ask permission to do what you want to do, graduated lady? The leaps you take require letting go of preconceived notions - check-the-box and picket-fence-the-yard - to whatever degree you grasp at them. I hope more of us have the courage to jump into whatever freefall of running we may muster. …