Amy Reinink

So here’s the funny thing about perfectionists: There are layers upon layers of perfectionist before you get to the pure, peaceful, accepting non-lunatic within.

On Friday, I wrote about my goal for the Marine Corps Marathon 10K: to approach the race with the grace and the humility of a beginner, and to not be afraid to have my all-out, hardest effort right now yield 8:45-minute miles, or 9-minute miles, or whatever. The point was to really try, and not let my inner perfectionist blow off treating races like RACES until I’m “back.”

What I didn’t mention on Friday: the fact that my race plan for Sunday morning involved waking up at 5 a.m. on Saturday to make it to an all-day ski-patrol medical training session at Whitetail; spending the day at said training session; getting back to Silver Spring at 7 p.m.; proceeding directly to a friend’s Halloween party; consuming more candy corn than an adult stomach is made to handle; and going to bed around 11:30 p.m., only to wake up early again on race day. If you’re a reasonable human being, you’ll see that this plan was nutso, doomed to fail. If you’re a fellow perfectionist, you’ll probably recognize yourself in my mistaken belief that I could do all of that, and probably aren’t surprised that I initially wanted to have a Halloween party yesterday afternoon, too.

It didn’t take long on Sunday morning for my legs to let me know they wouldn’t be showing up for the race, and it didn’t even take a full mile for me to adjust my expectations and downshift to a pained jog. But I still made the experience a meditation in crushing my inner running-perfectionist. Here’s how:

Blurry iPhone photo does not show exhaustion at actual size.

1. I didn’t dwell on the fact that I was slower than last year (which seemed painfully slow at the time). When I ran the full Marine Corps Marathon in 2009, I wasted a lot of time mourning the loss of my goal pace once things started falling apart. On Sunday, I didn’t judge myself for being slower than I’d hoped—a sure formula for ruining a race—but instead just kept moving forward and encouraging myself.

2. I didn’t totally let myself off the hook. The guy who took me through my physical-therapy workouts used to be an Olympic running coach in Guyana, and he once told me he coached his 10K runners to push the pace, then pull back, then push the pace again, then pull back. There were certain parts of the race when I felt a little spring in my step, and I challenged myself to push the pace during those moments—a real departure from my usual routine, which is to see my race results in black and white—either I’ve achieved my goal pace, or I might as well stop and walk.

3. I really thought about race strategy. I’ve written before about how the 10K has stumped me as a racing distance. The last one I really “raced” was the Capitol Hill Classic 10K last year, and I still finished in 50 minutes and change—considerably slower than pace calculators suggest I’m capable of, considering my other race times. On Sunday, though my overall strategy was just to get through the darn thing without collapsing, I was at least *thinking* about how to coax the most out of my tired legs, focusing on the push/pull back strategy, and really trying to turn up the heat in the fourth and fifth mile (even though yesterday, “turning up the heat” meant “not slowing down”).

4. I didn’t dwell on the bad stuff. My usual M.O. after a slow and/or disappointing race is to spend the day telling everyone how slow I was, and how terribly I did—and to be even harder on myself in my head. On Sunday, I didn’t even look up my official finish time—my Garmin suggests I did roughly 9-minute miles, but it’s totally beside the point. When people asked, I just told them it was a rough run, but that I had a blast—and I did.

5. I congratulated myself heartily for the good stuff—all of the above, plus the fact that a training run of 6.2 miles at 9-minute-mile pace sets myself up nicely to start training for the Hot Chocolate 15K in December. Realistically, I’m pretty sure I’ll be training to cover the distance … but right now, the idea of being able to cover a 15K is pretty darn exciting!

We stayed after the 10K to cheer on the marathon runners, and spotted several of our friends at miles 25 and 22. If you ran the 26.2 yesterday, congratulations—your finish is such an inspiration to me, and to everyone else on the sidelines! We also spotted some brilliant signs, like the one this kid is holding:

Happy Halloween!

Earlier this week, I mentioned that my goal for the Marine Corps Marathon 10K is to “approach this race, which will almost certainly not be my fastest, with the grace and enthusiasm of a beginner.”

Which may have made you wonder: What, exactly, does that mean?

Any runner who’s recovered from an injury knows how important it can feel to be “back” once you’re healed—to stop feeling pain from whatever was hurting you, and start chasing PRs agin. It’s great to set and work toward challenging goals, but sometimes, the relentless pursuit of those goals can make you overlook the small, incremental achievements you’re making along the way. Maybe more importantly, focusing only on your PRs, or on being exactly as fast as you were “before” (before your injury, before you took time off, before you just got a little slower—or whatever) shoves your training into a really dangerous black-and-white territory, in which you convince yourself that you are either at or close to your PR, or you’re jogging. And by jogging, I mean … well, worthless.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: There’s nothing wrong with jogging a race, taking it easy to pace a slower friend or just enjoy the race-day atmosphere. But for some of us perfectionist-weirdos (you know who you are!), jogging a race can be code for “refusing to admit that trying my hardest could yield less than personally ideal results.” Expending very little effort to run 9-minute miles is easy, mentally and physically; what’s tougher is to try your hardest, and still come away with 8:45-minute miles. Of course, the times are all relative—we all know what our own personal “fast” and “slow” are, and we all like to hide the races where we fall into the latter category.

So my goal for Sunday? My race will be against my own inner perfectionist—the one that implores me to throw in the towel and jog the moment it detects a pace that’s slower than my goal. My goal is to stop focusing on what I haven’t done—worked back up to half-marathon distance, eight-minute miles, and whatever other markers I convince myself I need to hit for my training to be worthwhile—and start appreciating what I have done.

This training cycle hasn’t been my fastest, but it has been among my most consistent. In early September, I promised myself I would run roughly every other day, adding hills and intensity to my shorter runs, working up to at least 10K distance on my longer runs, and cross-training on my off days. And guess what? I have. No matter what my time is on Sunday, I can be proud of that consistency.

My race plan is to take it easy for the first mile, and to gauge how my body’s feeling. If all systems feel ready to go, I’ll pick it up to roughly tempo pace to make it a difficult training run—one where I’m not necessarily chasing my PR, but where I am challenging myself.

Now. Here’s the beauty of being a comeback queen: You may have a beginner’s grace and humility, but you have a veteran’s wisdom. I know what “tempo pace” feels like, what to eat pre-race, what to wear, what to listen to and how to coach myself through this beginner-esque effort.

Also, and perhaps most importantly, I know to bring mimosas to sip on while I’m cheering for my marathoner-friends at mile 22, after the 10K’s done.

Good luck to everyone racing this weekend!

Just a few more days until I line up for the MCM 10K! That means it’s time to get all my important race-day stuff in order—namely, my playlist. The one below will last for about 50 minutes. I’m anticipating somewhere between 54 and 60 minutes (don’t judge—my pace during training runs has been slow and inconsistent, and I really can’t say where I’ll fall on race day), which means I’ll go back and listen to my favorites again (Crunchy Joe, In for the Kill, Otis).

Any awesome running songs I should add to the mix? Let me know by posting a comment!

Going the Distance – Cake

Fireworks – Animal Collective

Dull Life – Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Lucifer – Jay-Z

Lynguistics – Cunninlynguists

Crunchy Joe – Goldfish

In for the Kill – La Roux

Otis – Kanye West & Jay-Z

Roman’s Revenge – Nicki Minaj & Eminem

Fight the Power – Public Enemy

Brush Your Hair – Goldfish

Til I Collapse – Eminem

Running the full marathon? Check out my 26.2 playlist, and other MCM resources, here.

Ever since we moved to Washington three years ago, I’ve greeted this weekend with excitement and motivation—it’s Marine Corps Marathon time again!

Can't you just feel yourself running through the famous arches at the start?

My first year here, I ran the full Marine Corps Marathon. Last year, I wised up—ahem, opted out—and did the 10K instead. This year, I’m again running the shorter distance, though at this point of my training, it might as well be a full marathon.

I’ve been training for the 10K since September. By training, I mean running every other day, cross-training on off-days, increasing my mileage to at least 10K distance on long runs and running hills with purpose. I’m choosing to—or at least trying to—approach this race, which will almost certainly not be my fastest, with the grace and enthusiasm of a beginner. Still, I’m motivated by the training I’ve done, and by my incredible friends signed up for the marathon, including seven-timer Ultra Runner Girl.

With that motivation in mind, I’d like to share some of the posts that helped me prepare for the full marathon in 2009:

Spectator’s guide

How to avoid Marine Corps Marathon taper tantrums

The ultimate Marine Corps Marathon playlist

Marine Corps Marathon countdown: visualizing miles one through five

Marine Corps Marathon Countdown: visualizing miles five through 10

Marine Corps Marathon Countdown: visualizing miles 10 through 15

Marine Corps Marathon countdown: visualizing miles 15 through 20

What motivated me to finish

Marine Corps Marathon: Lessons learned, one year later

This week, I’ve been visiting a bunch of area gyms for a Bethesda Magazine feature (stay tuned for details in a month or so). I’ve been amazed at the diverse array of fitness centers located within a 15-square-mile area, and yesterday, was amazed by … well, *everything* at Equinox, a luxury gym where you can wipe your sweat with eucalyptus-scented, chilled towels, and where you can work out on an incredible-looking lower-impact treadmill I’d never even *heard* of before (again, stay tuned for details).

Tomorrow morning, I’m slated to try a CrossFit class at CrossFit Bethesda. Something tells me CrossFit won’t have eucalyptus-scented anything, and when I met up with Steve yesterday evening, I told him how funny it will be to visit those seemingly opposite gyms back-to-back. I also confessed that I felt just a little too smelly and gross to for pretty, elegant Equinox, and said I anticipated fitting in a little better at CrossFit, where my perma-stinky running shorts, mud-stained trail-runners and random race T-shirt will likely blend right in.

Steve nodded thoughtfully, and said, “Yeah. You’re looking for more of the ‘still blood on the wall from last night’s cage fight’ sort of atmosphere, huh?”

Well … yeah.

I’m not done with my gym visits, and I expect to be thoroughly impressed with some of Equinox’s group classes, including one 6 a.m. circuit class simply called “Whipped.” But I’m pretty sure that when my visits are all done, I’ll head back to the free (to me) gym at National Naval Medical Center, which until a few weeks ago was located in a gigantic temporary trailer. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s where I’m most comfortable.

Do you ever work out at a gym or fitness center? If so, what kind of vibe do you like? Are you a class person, or more of a lone ranger?

I thought about filing this mishmash of a list under a “motivation Monday” post. But this isn’t necessarily stuff that motivates me; just stuff I’m digging like a ditch at this moment in time. They’re mostly runner/swimmer/athlete-themed—some more loosely than others (endurance athletes need carbs, and therefore need bread recipes, right? And … everyone likes flowers?).

Farmers market flowers. These cost me all of eight bucks. The bright colors and the whimsical fake-pumpkin-fruits make me grin like an idiot every time I look at them. SwimSpray. When high-school swimming was through, I remember feeling totally elated that I would no longer smell like a bottle of bleach all the time. And when I started swimming again a couple years ago, I greeted that smell—which hangs on the skin for days, no matter what you do in the shower—with dismay. So when I got a bottle of SwimSpray for free at the Great Chesapeake Bay Swim, I was eager to try it, though admittedly skeptical. Here’s the deal: It totally works. You just spray it on your skin, and then shower, and then you don’t smell like chlorine. Amazing! It’s just water and ascorbic acid (vitamin C), and was created by a local guy. What’s not to love?

Smitten Kitchen’s “Wheat Bread Without a Timetable.“ I accidentally tested the “without a timetable” part of this when the electricity went out in my apartment just before I was going to bake this, leading to a loooong second rise. As promised, it didn’t matter, and the bread turned out fantastic. This is now on my constant rotation of favorite recipes, and would be a great first yeast-bread recipe for yeast-o-phobes. The Hot Chocolate 15K. I just signed up for this awesome-sounding race in December, despite a steep entry fee. Why? Because I want the free chocolate and the cool jacket (read: Because I’m a sucker). My plan is to train to finish, since a 15K seems like a looong way right now. That means this would essentially be a catered long run with a really tasty reward at the end. Sweet, right?

Crunchy Joe. A friend training for the Marine Corps Marathon suggested an album by GOLDFISH for its great running vibes. I listened to this particular song no fewer than six times on a hilly run last weekend. Go download it right now. Seriously. Now.

In other news: Tom McCann of the Nature Conservancy tells me the organization has extended its partnership with Pacers beyond the Earth Day 5K. Runners who raise money for the nonprofit through races over the next several months will earn a bib for the GW Parkway Classic 10 miler on April 22. Seems like a nice opportunity, if you’re looking for a charity to dedicate your runs to.

Every place has its season, and D.C.’s is now, when our hot, sticky summer gives way to refreshingly cool fall. If you need any other reason to go for a run than the sight of brilliant fall leaves, the sound of those leaves crunching under your feet and the feel of chilly air on your face, I’m not sure *what* will motivate you.

I want to go run on this *right now.*

Feeling tired or bored mid-run? Look up at the bursts of color lining your path.

Running through fall leaves = all the fun of jumping in a pile of just-raked leaves, without the raking.

What’s motivating you this week?

So you know how sometimes, in the middle of a long run, you spot something so bizarre and interesting, it occupies your thoughts for miles? An example: While running a 20-miler on Sligo Creek Trail a couple years ago, I spotted a sign noting that the Vegetarian Society of D.C. was responsible for keeping that stretch of trail neat and clean. Vegetarian Society of D.C.? I thought as I passed it. Wait. What?

If you’re anything like me, you never get around to looking up what the thing you saw is all about. (What does the Vegetarian Society of D.C. do, exactly? Advocacy? Cooking classes? Fellowship? I didn’t know until I finally hit up its website for this blog post.)

Sound familiar? Do I have the deal for you!

OK, used-car-salesperson tactics aside, I write a bi-monthly column for Bethesda Magazine called Since You Asked, in which readers ask questions about curious things in lower Montgomery County and upper NW D.C., and I find answers. All the questions are interesting (the next issue will include an answer to the question: “Pooks Hill, FDR and the exiled Swedish princess. What’s the story?”). But it really makes my life when people ask about local parks or trails (like the Bethesda Trolley Trail or the Capital Crescent Trail, which once carried a rail line that transported stone to build the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington National Cathedral!), or about other points of interest spotted while cycling, running or otherwise adventuring.

The Capital Crescent Trail, which has a fascinating history. Photo credit: Bethesda Magazine.

So please consider this an invitation. Are you a resident of lower Montgomery County who’s spotted anything interesting or curious while running, cycling, swimming or adventuring in lower Montgomery County? Ask me, and I’ll dig up the answer and print it in an upcoming edition of Bethesda Magazine! Send it to me at amy.reinink (at) gmail.com, or to the magazine directly at sinceyouasked (at) bethesdamagazine.com, including your name and city of residence.

Not a Montgomery County resident? Pass it along to friends who are!

I spent Columbus Day weekend exploring a bizarre and fascinating region: New Jersey’s Pine Barrens. Stay tuned for my Backpacker Magazine story about our 15-ish-mile backpacking route along the Batona Trail (cleverly named BaToNa for Back to Nature). For now, enjoy these photos:

We headed into the woods on a beautiful fall day.

We thought the pancake-flat trail would be easy. Six hours of this view, and hiking through deep sand, is not easy.

We got occasional views of the Batsto River. We were grateful for these views.

We were awfully grateful to get to our camp that night.

And even more grateful to reach our stopping point at Apple Pie Hill, where an old radio tower gave us incredible views.

The Pine Barrens: Named as such for a reason.

I’ve mentioned here before that I’m a relentless perfectionist. I approach work and play as all-or-nothing endeavors in which I’d rather not play than play badly. It’s a personality flaw. I’m working on it, and probably always will be working on it.

Posing with the "Udder Cream" cow at the Marine Corps 10K finish festival last year.

This week, I’m working on it by fully committing myself to training for the Marine Corps 10K. I’ve been signed up for the race for weeks, and have been running with a greater sense of purpose ever since. I’ve been adding miles, hills and speed to the lovely, calm 30-minute trail runs I did for most of the summer, when I was fooling myself that I could go on lovely, calm, 30-minute trail runs and still run road races quickly.

Here’s the part that’s tricky for me: I’m still on the slow side of my own personal slow-fast running spectrum, and it’s unlikely I will regain that speed in the next two weeks. I’ve been known to approach this kind of situation as any good perfectionist would: by saying the race is a training run, and by jogging the whole thing to save myself from “failing” with a slow race.

There’s nothing wrong with treating a race as a training run. But I think there’s a difference between jogging a race (which there’s also a time and a place for) and treating it as a training run, with real goals and training objectives.

I tried my absolute hardest at the Bolder Boulder 10K, and I was still slow. And that's totally OK.

And so, I’m making a commitment to myself to treat this race as a tempo run, and to accept the fact that my current tempo-run pace might be 9-minute miles. When the race is done, no matter what my time, I’ll be proud of the effort I expended and the fitness I gained by actually accepting where I am today rather than wait to expend real effort until I’m an 8-minute-miler again.

Are you a perfectionist in your training and racing? How does that manifest itself, and how do you work to overcome it?