Amy Reinink

My race on Sunday was slow. The fresh-picked strawberries from Butler’s Orchard went really, really fast.

Before I even jogged over the starting mat at the Capitol Hill Classic 10K on Sunday, I knew it wasn’t going to be my day to shine, running-wise. My legs felt stiff and sore despite taking the day before the race off. My stomach felt like a brick from the two pieces of Papa John’s pizza with garlic sauce (necessary to make the Papa John’s pizza palatable) I’d eaten for dinner the night before, thanks to CPR-instructor class from 1 p.m. to 8 p.m. And though the 8:30 a.m. start time seemed like a good idea when I woke up at a leisurely 6:30 a.m., I started cursing the late start as soon as the sun started making it feel less like May and more like July.

Thanks to the Bolder Boulder last year, my 57-minute 10K on Sunday was not my slowest 10K time ever. But it was pretty close, and was a good seven minutes slower than my time two years ago.

Here’s why the race was still a win: Rather than beat myself up about not training enough (it occurred to me mid-race that I haven’t actually run six miles for quite a while now), or about being slow, or about putting something so sketchy into my sensitive stomach the night before the race, I accepted the race for what it was, and moved on without feeling that it was a judgement of who I am as a person.

It was the morning of my 32nd birthday, and I couldn’t help but think about a poem a good runner-friend sent me recently. It was apparently written by Charlie Chaplin when he was in his 70s. I so totally relate to this, and I know I’m not the only perfectionist weirdo who has spent too much time loving myself only when I’m running PRs, or fitting into certain jeans, or getting tons of new assignments.

My birthday present to myself was realizing I’ve finally gotten to the point that a slow, uncomfortable race is just that and nothing more—a slow, uncomfortable race. I still had fun. I still tried my best. I still got fitter and faster with each step. And I still had an absolutely wonderful birthday, full of good friends and fresh strawberries picked from Butler’s Orchard after the race.

As I Began to Love Myself

As I began to love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth. Today, I know, this is AUTHENTICITY.

As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody as I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this person was me. Today I call it RESPECT.

As I began to love myself I stopped craving for a different life, and I could see that everything that surrounded me was inviting me to grow. Today I call it MATURITY.

As I began to love myself I understood that at any circumstance, I am in the right place at the right time, and everything happens at the exactly right moment. So I could be calm. Today I call it SELF-CONFIDENCE.

As I began to love myself I quit stealing my own time, and I stopped designing huge projects for the future. Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness, things I love to do and that make my heart cheer, and I do them in my own way and in my own rhythm. Today I call it SIMPLICITY.

As I began to love myself I freed myself of anything that is no good for my health – food, people, things, situations, and everything the drew me down and away from myself. At first I called this attitude a healthy egoism. Today I know it is LOVE OF ONESELF.

As I began to love myself I quit trying to always be right, and ever since I was wrong less of the time. Today I discovered that is MODESTY.

As I began to love myself I refused to go on living in the past and worry about the future. Now, I only live for the moment, where everything is happening. Today I live each day, day by day, and I call it FULFILLMENT.

As I began to love myself I recognized that my mind can disturb me and it can make me sick. But as I connected it to my heart, my mind became a valuable ally. Today I call this connection WISDOM OF THE HEART.

We no longer need to fear arguments, confrontations or any kind of problems with ourselves or others. Even stars collide, and out of their crashing new worlds are born. Today I know THAT IS LIFE!

So I finally know what it means to treat a race like a hard training run.

That’s my race plan for the Capitol Hill Classic 10K on Sunday morning. I haven’t been doing anything resembling long runs in recent weeks—6 miles is about my limit these days—and the route in Virginia Beach where I do most of my training has an elevation gain of 26 feet. So I’m not expecting a PR.

I also don’t care to use this as a time trial, which is what I usually mean when I say that I’m using a race as a hard training run. I’m sure I’ll be bummed if I finish several minutes slower than I ran the course in 2010, but otherwise, I don’t really care what my time is.

Rather, my goal is just to get more fit as a result of doing this race. I would like to take the hills hard, and to not slack off on the flats. I would like to extend myself, to kick off training for the Virginia Beach Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon over Labor Day weekend and the Philadelphia Half-Marathon on Nov. 16. So that’s my race plan—to not “race” the 10K, per se, but to treat it as a tempo run that I really have to push hard to finish.

My secondary goal is, of course, to have fun. It is my birthday, after all!

Let’s get one important fact out of the way right now: We didn’t play with the truck tire.

But I did enjoy my second foray into the CrossFit world on Tuesday, when I took an (unofficial—it’s called “Boot Camp” class, to avoid violating the trademark) CrossFit class at the gym near my mom’s house in Florida. Based on my experience there, and on my experience taking an official CrossFit class last October for a Bethesda Magazine feature, I have some thoughts and first impressions to share.

What I like about CrossFit:

• I like that CrossFit is deceptively simple, with workouts composed of basic boot-camp-style exercises (many of which use your body weight as resistance) and Olympic weight-lifting—all functional movements designed to mimic stuff you might do in real life.
• It’s high intensity stuff, so you get a great workout in a short period of time. The workout set on Tuesday was as follows: 20 pull-ups (I did modified ones with rings), 30 push-ups, 40 sit-ups, 50 squats. Repeat five times. By the fifth run-through, the sit-ups were stunningly difficult (who would’ve thunk that simple sit-ups could feel so impossible?). Still, the whole workout only took me something like 25 minutes.
• In official CrossFit classes, highly trained instructors watch carefully to check your form and make sure you’re not performing any movements dangerously.
• The instructors are big on modifying the movements to make sure everyone, despite any injuries or strength deficiencies, gets a great workout. In the first class I took, that meant a modified box (a stack of 45-pound plates) to jump on to nurse my still-recovering knee after ACL-reconstruction surgery. On Tuesday, it meant using ring to assist my pull-ups, which I can barely eke out one of, let alone five sets of 20.
• The studio space is spare and kind of hard-core. The Bethesda CrossFit studio, for example, was a basement room with bare walls and a bunch of bars, plates, kettlebells and PVC pipes. The class on Tuesday met outside. Our only equipment: The rings, and a pull-up bar. I LOVE the lack of froufy stuff.
• Great camaraderie. The exhausted high-fives and breathless words of encouragement exchanged between participants made me think of my running group, which I enjoyed.

What I don’t like about CrossFit:

• I really only have one complaint about CrossFit: The CrossFit ego. This isn’t unique to CrossFit, of course. Many sports have obsessive groupies who think all other workouts are inferior, and many sports have nerdy, acronym-heavy vocabularies that annoy the uninitiated. But the box (the gym), the WOD (“workout of the day”), the Paleo diet, Pukey the Clown (the mascot)—I’m sorry if this offends my CrossFitty friends, but to me, it all seems a little too … cutesy. I’ve glimpsed the end of several CrossFit classes, and in each instance, I’ve seen multiple people laying on the ground in pure exhaustion, moaning and groaning. Yes, it’s hard. But lots of things are hard. Can you imagine a group of swimmers laying on the pool deck moaning and groaning after a killer workout? Or runners doing so on a track after a set of mile repeats at 5K pace minus 10 or 15 seconds? It would be weird.

All in all, there are obviously more positives than negatives in my opinion. And the instructor of the faux CrossFit class in Florida told me that if I give him a heads-up next time I’m in town, he’ll try to work the truck tire into the WOD. So yes, I will be back.

Have you tried CrossFit? What do you like about it? What turned you off?

I’m in the Tampa area visiting my mom for Mother’s Day weekend. Staying in a city that isn’t your home for several days on end always means interesting and exciting changes to your workout routine, and this is no exception.

Running is always an option, of course, but Florida’s hot, soupy conditions can make outdoor runs prohibitively uncomfortable. On past visits, this has led me to swim at the crack of dawn with a local master’s team or visit the local rec center to use the free weights and stationary bikes. On this visit, it led me and my mom to a gym near her home that offers a la carte classes to nonmembers.

When we parked in front of the center, my gaze immediately fell on a giant truck tire sitting in front of the center. A dear friend of mine coaches high-school football, and has his players flip truck tires to build functional strength. Is it possible that the little gym near my mom’s house does stuff like that? We walked inside.

A friendly receptionist greeted us, and described the various membership packages. We scanned the list of classes. I spotted a few I thought my mom might like, but nothing that sparked my interest.

“What’s up with the giant truck tire outside?” I asked.

The receptionist’s eyes lit up.

“That’s for our Boot Camp class,” she said, grinning. “It’s on the schedule for Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but we meet on Tuesday and Thursday, because we like it so much.”

Turns out, “Boot Camp” is code for “non-branded CrossFit.” I took a CrossFit class in Bethesda, Md., in the fall for a Bethesda Magazine feature I wrote earlier this year. I enjoyed the workout, but haven’t felt the need to find another class since then. But a non-branded version at a random gym in Florida involving a truck tire and people who are so into the workout, they meet between classes for more torturous fun? Yes, please!

I’ll try out the class tonight. I expect to be sore tomorrow, and to have some fun stories to report back to you on Wednesday.

What’s motivating you this week?

Many thanks to Runner.com for this fantastic breakdown of what the power generated by running can do:

Runner.com – Information and Inspiration for the Runner

Reading this made me feel all warm and fuzzy, but it also reminded me of another perspective about the time and energy spent running.When I was training for my first marathon in 2007, I spent a few minutes at dinner one night telling my friends all about the epic (to me) journey of my first 20-miler. They “oohed” and “aahed” and “wowed” on cue, until Steve noted the following: “You know what I could have done in four hours? Two movies.” (Sigh.)

Enjoy your weekend, no matter how you decide to spend your energy!

At the 5K I jumped into last Friday, my quads issued a stern reminder that if you don’t use your ability to run hills, you lose it (and those hills only equaled a total elevation gain of 272 feet—yikes!). My natural next step? Register to run the hilliest race I know of on my birthday, of course!

I won’t be racing the Capitol Hill Classic 10K by any means—6.2 miles is still the upward range of my “long” runs, and the hill for which it’s named is a killer even in the best circumstances. But we don’t get any better by practicing that which we’re already good at, do we?

Read this blog for long enough, and you’ll start to notice a pattern. Girl runs. Girl gets hurt. Girl limps back to the pool. Girl rekindles her love for swimming, and spends months basking in the glow of being good at something, of doing an activity her body seems made for, of engaging in the outdoors in an interesting and different way through open-water swimming. Girl recovers. Girl realizes she can do other stuff again, and leaves swimming in the dust. Girl blathers on about how she and swimming are like Ross and Rachel, and wonders if they’ll ever just get together, already.

Finishing my most recent open-water swim, a 5K in Florida in October. I can count my swim workouts since then on one hand.

So the fact that I got in the pool on Wednesday without being injured is pretty notable. Could it be that I’m learning moderation, and realizing that swimming as hard and as long as I possibly can will only lead to burnout and an inevitable swim breakup?

Maybe. It could also be that Katie asked if I wanted to meet for a swim, then have lunch, and that sounded good to me.

No matter. I got in the pool. I kicked about a 2,000-yard workout (kicked only, because I have a killer ear infection). Afterwards, I got out, had lunch, did some work, and started thinking about getting in the pool again. Progress.

Keeping me motivated is this year’s version of #50KinMay, the Twitter challenge that helped get me through the toughest part of Great Chesapeake Bay Swim training last year. This year, we’re calling it #SwimInMay, to reflect that fact that many of us partaking in the challenge are simply not in a place where we’re looking to swim 50K in a month. And you know what? It was really satisfying to post my measly 2K kicking workout after I completed it!

Friday would have been my dad’s 77th birthday. I celebrated with my running buddies by cooking, baking and eating his favorite foods—lobster bisque, blueberry pie, Coors Light and Peter Pan peanut butter, to name a few—and by remembering all the qualities that made him a great dad.

There are many, many qualities to list, but the one that I want to talk about today is the fact that my dad never missed a single one of my swim meets, or cross-country meets, or anything that meant a lot to me. Some of my happiest childhood memories are of swimming in my beach-club swim league, and finishing a 25-yard race to see my dad standing by the edge of a pool with a warm, dry towel ready for me to step into. He always wore the wide, easy smile that makes me a little weepy to conjure now, and always gave me a big hug once I was wrapped in the towel.

This was taken at my wedding, where he wore the same smile he’d greet me with after one of my childhood swim meets.

He would always say something excited and nice about my performance, and always homed in on what was really important by asking if I’d had fun. It’s hard to imagine feeling more safe, or more loved.

In 2010, when I found the Daiquiri Deck Tropical Splash Open Water 5K Swim in Sarasota, just south of my parents’ home in Florida, my dad made the trip to come see me, though it was tough for him to spend the morning standing and walking and otherwise out of his comfort zone considering his wide array of health complications. He hung pictures of me finishing the race on the wall of his pool room. He was as proud of me at 30 as he was of me at 7.

Same deal in the 2011 swim, when more health complications made the trip an even tougher one for him. Through a combination of his will to make it to the finish line and my mom and Steve’s ingenuity (tactics included catching a ride from a beach buggy across a long expanse of sand), he was waiting there at the finish line with a smile and a hug.

He can’t be there physically to offer comfort and congratulations anymore. But I know that for the rest of my life, I’ll reach for that feeling of love and support from those childhood swim meets when I need encouragement and motivation during a tough race, and will rely on him to be a silent cheerleader whenever I need it most.

In other Motivation Monday news: I ran a 5K on Friday. I know—I was surprised, too! I accompanied a friend to the the White Oak Classic 5K, held at 11 a.m. Friday for FDA employees. On account of the fact that I am not an FDA employee, I bandited the darn thing. We had a covered a lovely, easy first mile together in 8 minutes, thanks to the long, steady downhill. It was hot and sticky, but who cared about that? Not me! At least, not until I realized the course was out-and-back, meaning I’d have to come back up during the last mile. I started the race looking for a good, hard run, thinking I might surprise myself with my time. I finished the race grateful I wasn’t the guy getting loaded into an ambulance with heat exhaustion.

Baseball fans (and anyone who likes rooting for the underdog) may want to check out this in-depth interview with Colorado Rockies pitcher Jamie Moyer, who at 50 is the oldest player in the major leagues. His story about overcoming addiction to get where he is today is both inspiring and heart-warming.

What’s motivating you this week?