Do these shorts make me look fast?

One of the beauties of running is that it generally requires very little gear. At the very least, you need clothes, shoes and a place to run. Then, off you go. (And some folks do without the first two things.)

Of course, as with anything else, there are add-ons. Do you need a hat? Or sunglasses? A watch, mp3 player, GPS or heart-rate monitor? Walk into any running store or sporting goods shop and you may think, "Yes!" to all of the above.

And in the stunning array of running gear marketed toward women (especially moms!), it can be easy to lose your way and find yourself wondering if you really need those $200 running socks spun with anti-fatigue gold thread. I'm making that up, but it's not too far off from some of the stuff you might find out there. But not everyone can be so spendy when it comes to running gear, probably especially not if you're a running mama on a tight family budget.

I was reminded of all this when I was out gear shopping the other night with another mama who recently became a born-again runner after having her third child. She was doing her couch-to-5K training in old exercise clothes, though they weren't ideal. I could totally relate, having done the same sort of thing when I resumed running postbaby. (Can you say plugged ducts from ill-fitting sports bras? Ouch. That's a whole 'nother story.) Some of us moms are, if nothing else, extremely practical and maybe a little minimal about getting stuff for ourselves. But taking good care of a family means taking good care of yourself, and that includes regular exercise and the proper tools to do it!

My friend's gear and clothing search made me think about what a running mama truly needs and how it can get overwhelming to decide, particularly for new runners or born-again runners. I'll tackle the subject for each stage of mommyhood, starting here with the basics. Future posts will take a look at dressing and gearing up for running while pregnant, immediately postpartum and with the kids. 

At the very least, a running mama needs:

• Comfortable shorts/pants/capris: Find some that flex with you (form-fitting or not), wick sweat and have soft, flat seams that won't chafe you. Comfort is key. Waistband pockets are convenient for small items like a house key, ID, small phone or emergency money.
• Properly fitting sports bra: This is so essential! Nothing stops a run faster than painful bouncing. Measure yourself properly or go to a lingerie store to have it done. Some running stores may also offer sports bra fittings. Do a serious bounce test! In general, compression bras, which you pull over your head like a tank top, are great for small-to-average busts. Encapsulation bras, with cups and (usually) adjustable straps and closures, are best for larger chests.
• Well-fitting shoes: Unless you're going barefoot, go to your local running store to get fitted for proper running shoes. Or you can read up on how to get the right fit on your own. Ill-fitting or worn-out shoes can be a source of pain and even injury for some folks. Oh, and don't forget sweat-wicking socks.
• Comfortable tank/tee/long-sleeve shirt: Again, choose synthetic, breathable fabric and designs with soft, flat seams. If you're going for a tank with a built-in bra, do a vigorous bounce test. Many built-in bras don't support well without the help of another bra, and layering can be uncomfortable. Make sure any top you buy is long enough so it doesn't creep up and turn into a half-top while you're running.

There are many nice extras, but these are the basics. And it's possible to find decent gear on a small budget. Support your local running store when you can, but don't feel bad if you have to be extremely practical about cost and head to a discount department store, online warehouse or secondhand store for some things. If you're just starting out or simply trying to keep things practical, don't worry about brands or what other runners are wearing. Think about comfort and fit and what will help you get out the door to log (and enjoy!) those miles.

© 2011 GUF

Dang, it's hot. (Race Report)

Race: 13.1 Chicago, 6/4/11
Goal: Anything sub-2:00 to get back in the vicinity of my prebaby PR of 1:49
Outcome: 2:08, a few minutes slower than my first postbaby half (Argh.)

So ... like many other amateur runners and triathletes, I have to qualify that unsatisfying finish time with what I like to consider a "conditions report." These are all the things that a race day poses that don't usually come up during controlled training. Things the race course or race day simply throw at you, waiting for a response. All the things that make some runners and triathletes a little neurotic about always being prepared with a Plan B.

Record-setting choppy water for a triathlon swim? Conditions report. Debris on a race route and two flat tires during one triathlon? Conditions report. Thunderstorms? Conditions report. Unexpectedly getting your period during a race? Conditions report. Breaking your only ponytail holder halfway through a race? Conditions report. You get the idea.

For this 13.1, it was the heat and humidity. When I walked outside before 5 a.m., it felt like someone had left the door open on a giant neighborhood sauna. I thought, "Hmm. This should be interesting." When I met up with my girlfriends to get to the starting line, it was noticeably hot and humid. In various veiled ways, we said, "This ain't good." We were sweating just standing in line for the porta-potties. It was apparently already in the 80s by then. The race started under what they called a yellow flag heat advisory, meaning we were all supposed to go slower and drink more water. Always a comedic warning to give to a bunch of people about to start a race.

I'm stubborn. I knew the weather was nothing like my training weather. I knew it was already sunny and hot and humid and the gun hadn't gone off yet. But I also knew I had traveled to Chicago to meet up with friends to do this race. And I also knew that I had put in twelve weeks of good training and I didn't want to let it go to waste.

When my corral started, I tried to ignore the weather and just imagined the start was like any other race start. Go easy, shake out the jitters and get into a groove. And get into a groove. And get into a groove. Eh-hem: Get into a groove! But my body wasn't listening. When I found myself looking for the first mile marker, I knew I was in for a long race.

And yes, it was hot and humid. Much worse than any of my hottest training days and any of the previous few days I had spent in Chicago. And my legs felt like I was slogging through quicksand a lot of the time. According to a heat guide in a recent Runner's World article, it wasn't the best day to be running the race:

High heat (85+) + high humidity (over 60%)
THE EFFECTS
Raises core temp, reduces blood volume; humidity interferes with evaporation of sweat.
THE SOLUTION
"Stick to easy runs or use the treadmill," says Puleo.

Without trying, I did everything the experts say you're supposed to do in hot weather—besides going home to hang out in the AC. I sipped water at every aid station. I hung on to the cool towel I got at mile 7 like it was my security blanket. I doused it with cold water at every aid station and hung it over the back of my neck. And, though I tried as hard as I could not to, I ran slowly.

I also played a lot of games with myself. I imagined there was shade where there wasn't any. I pretended there was a breeze coming off the Lake. I focused on the backs of runners until I passed them. I kept thinking about how a longer race meant taking longer to get back to the finish, where my family was waiting to meet me—also in the heat.

I abandoned my time goal and focused on finishing without collapsing. But I refused to let myself walk. I ran, but my legs felt sloppy. I saw other runners weaving, staggering and nearly fainting along the race route. At some points, it seemed absurd to even be running "for fun" at that moment. Any outsider could have easily said we deserved whatever was coming our way and that we were idiots for actually paying someone so we could run in this mess. But who cares what they think, right?

When I had just about one mile left, I heard a man on a bullhorn calling out, "We are under a black flag. The clocks have been turned off. Stop running." No one crossing the finish from that point on would receive an official time. All I could think was, "F*@&, no!" A bunch of other tired runners around me were uttering similar things and none of us stopped running. There was no way we had come this far only to stop. Besides, all pride aside, I was pretty sure my legs would cramp on the spot if I stopped to walk.

So I kept jogging (which, by this point, felt like slow-motion shuffling), crossed the finish line and kept moving my legs long after. I wasn't too thrilled about how the race went, but I was so glad to see my family at the finish. My kiddo was snoozing in the stroller, wearing a T-shirt that read, "Go Mama!" (a cute surprise from my hubs and sister). And, one free beer later, I returned to planet earth.

My husband told me he saw someone collapse at the finish line. Later, we found out that same guy, who was just in his 20s, had died. A couple of days after that, I found out he was a family friend of my husband's cousin. And that he had been planning to propose to his longtime girlfriend a month later, on Independence Day. And here I was, moping about not meeting my time goal. And about how the weather had ruined my "big" plans. Talk about putting things into perspective. Talk about first-world problems. I remembered to be thankful that I made it back safely to my guys.

Sometimes—almost all of the time—the race isn't everything. But when it's a goal, it becomes part of your being, and it's often pretty hard to remember the big picture. It's hard to explain to nonrunners why that is. It's illogical. Probably pathological. But I'm pretty sure it's why most of us keep signing up for the next race. God help us.

© 2011 GUF