"Mountaineer" wins first place Associated Press award

Me holding the awards.

Stunned was really the best way to describe how I felt when the announcer called my name.

I'm a triathlete. No, let me expand that label. I'm a slow, middle- to back-of-the-pack triathlete. Having my name called for a first-place win has only happened once. (I took first place in my age group at a 5K a couple years ago. I've still got the red University of Dayton prize hat to prove it.)

I've heard my name called during races while crossing the finish line at triathlons - and that was especially meaningful at the end of my first tri, an arduous, reach within your guts and ask God to pull out the courage personal trial - but never for having podium'ed.

First Place Best Blog award.

So, when the announcer at the Associated Press Society of Ohio's annual awards banquet called my name as first place for best blog for the *Division 1 category, I felt very surprised ... and honored. "This only happens to other people" or "Are they sure they didn't mix up the order?" were a couple of the many thoughts buzzing in my head.

I was also fortunate enough to take home a second place win for the news videos I produce (Online Photojournalist), which is also quite an honor.

The last year, 2010, was my first full, calendar year having worked in the newspaper business, and it was also my first year being nominated. Having seen the caliber of submissions and the outstanding work other newspapers around the state produce, I really am humbled to even have been nominated.

Second Place Best Online Photojournalist award.

I'm even humbled to have just been in the room. I have a dream job and the fact that I was sitting in that room on that day having just been honored with those placements, was easily a pinch-me moment.

My husband is a former newspaper editor who won quite a few awards in his day. There is no one I admire more professionally, and it was great to have him by my side.

Gary and me.

I've been a little hesitant to post about the win. I'm just struggling between trying to be humble yet trying to accept a compliment, in this case the awards. Plus, I had to miss church Sunday to attend, so ... you do the mental health math.

But I am never going to win an AP award for the first time again, so I'm sparing a few minutes to type up this post. Maybe this will be one of those moments, just like finishing my first tri, that I can look upon with great fondness and remember how far I've come someday.

However it all can be described, though, I could not be where I am today without Jesus Christ as my lord and savior. Period.

*There are five divisions. Division I: 32 papers; Division II: 23 papers; Division III: 16 papers; Division IV: five papers; Division V: six papers.

A surprising personal best at Sunday's Flying Pig Half Marathon

My finisher's medal.

The whole morning before the race started I was wishing I wasn't there.

I don't mind racing in the rain ... when it's warm, but the weather at today's Flying Pig Marathon/Half Marathon brought cold temperatures (60 F is cold for me anyway) and, though I was dressed for rain, I was utterly dreading it.

As usual, I got to the site extra, extra early. The race started at 6:30 a.m. and I was there at 4 a.m. I just like to have that much room for margin of error and to get a good parking spot. I got ready, took a half-hour nap, then walked to the starting line corrals, or Pig Pens.

It was beginning to rain at that point, a cold rain, one that goes to the bone. As I was walking to my Pen, I stopped a couple times in a porta potty (there was no line and plenty were vacant) to just get away from it.

I toughed it out and got to my Pen, moving my way forward so that I could seek shelter under an overpass. I was not looking forward to racing in this rain. (Have I mentioned that yet?) It was barely 60 degrees and the wind blowing off of the Ohio was certainly not warming things up. I was going to be miserable. I wanted to just get back in my truck and leave.

I didn't even hear the gun go off I was so far back; I just started moving forward with the others. I began walking past people so I could start sooner than later so I could get the race overwith and get out of what was sure to be miserable, rainy conditions.

As I was walking fast, and especially as I began running after crossing the timing chip mat, I was delighted to observe that the rain wasn't nearly as cold as I thought it would be. Indeed, pretty soon I realized how good it felt.

It rained for about the first 45 minutes of the race. Once it died off, I pulled out my iPod and kicked off the music with Adele's Rolling in the Deep.

There were 6-7 hills on the course, a few of which were on bridges. I kept telling myself to take it easy and pace myself because I wanted to be able to report that I ran the entire 13.1 miles...

My race bib.

...And I am happy to report just that!

From mile 7 onward, there were many times when I wanted to take a break and walk. Plus my HR was pretty high. I just slowed down on my run and brought it back to a comfortable mid-170s.

Miles 10-13 were the hardest. You know you're so close, but still have a few miles to run. Thank goodness for the iPod, especially the last mile. It began to rain hard enough to warrant tossing the iPod back into my Fuel Belt, so I did. Pretty soon I realized I absolutely had to have it to get through this last mile, so I pulled it back out. Luckily, the rain turned back into a mist and thanks to R.E.M., Fall Out Boy and Live, I was able to push through.

I picked up my pace the last quarter mile and crossed the Finish Swine.

Second half marathon DONE!

I couldn't believe I'd run the whole thing without even stopping and especially without even stopping to stretch. I think in my first/last HM, I had to walk a little bit on mile 11 or 12, and I stopped multiple times to stretch.

That is probably why I knocked EIGHT MINUTES off my time over my last HM! Woo hoo! I thought for sure that I'd see an additional 15 minutes on my time for this run given how little I'd trained and when you consider the obstacles hills can be. In fact, I told my husband the night before, "I'll be surprised if I come in under three."

Needless to say, I'm very, very pleased with my performance in this race. Most importantly, though, I'm glad to now be home in warm, comfy clothes and already daydreaming about my next race.

That is, of course, always easier to do after a race instead of during.

TOTAL TIME: 2h 40m 09s

OVERALL: 7,342 out of 10,870

DIVISION: 583 out of 985

GENDER: 4,040 out of 6,859

P.S. For those of you who are curious, I did NOT see the streaker that got Tased by the cops. Sorry.

No breaking the 'Piggy' bank for Sunday's half marathon

Poster given as part of my packet.

"...Miles run in practice are like dollars saved in the bank. You can withdraw them when necessary." - Marathoner and author Hal Higdon on Facebook, 3/28/11

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It was touch and go for a while, but I'm ready to race the Flying Pig Half Marathon this Sunday, my second half marathon. In fact, I picked up my packet in downtown Cincinnati this evening.

Some recent bouts with back and neck pain have left me unable to properly reinforce - or even rebuild - my capacity for half marathon(ish) distances since I finished my first half in October.

A recent trip to the chiropractor to address said problems left me questioning not only my fitness for the race, but my fitness in general. (A second trip to the doc later confirmed that I was being paranoid. "You mean my head won't fall off anytime soon?")

Since Jan. 1, I have only run 44 miles. Hardly a proper requisite for heading into a half marathon in two days.

A backpack was also part of the packet.

My longest run since my 13.1, half-marathon run in October was Monday ... as in four days ago! It was two hours and 13 minutes' worth of pavement-pounding to reach 10 miles.

I've managed a few six- to seven-mile runs over the months, but I felt that if I could just squeeze-out a 10-miler before race day, I could do the race.

And I did.

I'm a little concerned about not having trained better, but one thing that I've learned above all else in endurance sports is that so much of the challenge is mental ... and I feel more than prepared in that regard.

So, I'm going in with a positive attitude, hoping that the 44 miles I'll be withdrawing from the bank will pay off in a decent (for me) finish line time.

Wish me luck!

Seeing proof that your body's turned against you

"Can I see?" I asked the doctor behind the half-wall who was looking at the computer, my X-Rays displayed on the screen.

"Sure," he replied, then pointing to the black and white images of my skeleton said: "Most people's necks curve forward and yours is curving slightly backward," or something like that. The exact details didn't matter at that point. You just know you've officially received word that you're messed up.

"Really?" I said, drawing out the word to reveal my fascination.

He went on to point out some other things of interest, some vertebrae tilting and out of alignment (You know? Small stuff.), and said the other doctor would be meeting with me to go in to more depth.

How I ended up in the X-Ray room of a chiropractor's office on a Monday morning was not how I foresaw the beginning of my week, but a recent, unrelenting stiff neck was my cause to be there.

When I get a stiff neck, I usually medicate with Advil, take it easy and in a few days it's gone. When this began to occur, it was a few days before a mayoral debate I was planning for our newspaper, and I just assumed the pain was from stress. Several days later, the pain was still there, traveling outward and getting worse.

I don't know what, in particular, led me to the chiropractor after years of not seeking their consult for back pain that has ailed me for years, but there I was. I'd heard good things about these folks and was just open for a new opportunity for relief.

"Yes, your right hip is higher than your left hip, and your right shoulder is higher than your left," the attending doctor told me before the X-Rays were taken. He tested my range of flexibility and some other basic functions, sent me for the X-Rays, hooked me up to these electrodes on my neck and lower back for 10 minutes and then had me cap-off my morning's activities with a massage.

I'm feeling better, but I'm still sore. I go back in a couple days for a consult and a treatment plan.

I'm registered for the Flying Pig Half Marathon on May 1, and I could probably run it, but it's hard to think about running hard when you've seen the vertebrae in your spine misaligned and wonder how far away you might be from some sort of physical tragedy. (I know I'm probably being somewhat paranoid.) I could walk the 13.1 miles of the race, but I'd be dying to run the whole time.

Here's to hoping these guys have some kind of answer about my spine being out of whack so that the season ahead - to which I'm so looking forward - doesn't become the same.

How gaining a little weight helps you lose it

It was, of course, inevitable.

Eat with abandon and train for first place in the couch potato contest, and the extra pounds you're gaining will announce their presence in a loud - and very unexpected - trumpet call.

"Dum, duh, duh, dummmmmm!"

They creep up quietly, though, hardly noticeable, leading you in to a false sense of security that you can eat anything you want and still look like you're 25-years-old with your 16-year-old self's metabolism still along for the ride.

The pants I snagged from White House Black Market for twenty bucks; on sale from their regular price of $98. Their length was unacceptably long. I would have to spend eight more dollars to get them hemmed, but I was still getting a bargain.

That was October. It wasn't until this past February that I got around to taking them to the seamstress. They were a little snug then, but still felt comfortable.

I plucked them out of my closet last week to wear them and was stunned when I tried putting them on.

"I can't even get these bleepin' pants to button!" I grrrred, standing by my closet, my husband sitting in a nearby room, undoubtedly questioning the veracity of my statement to himself. How many times had he heard that line?

So perhaps I'm the girl who cried fat one too many times, but the evidence was unassailable: The pants I bought five months ago fit then. Now they didn't.

This was the moment, however, for which I'd secretly been waiting. The moment I knew I had to stop imagining that the calories from multiple Frisch's Big Boy platters would not have an effect on my bottom.

This was the moment I knew that I had to get serious about not necessarily eating right, but about quitting eating so doggone wrong.

I'd spent the cold, winter months giving in to the French fries and giving up hope that warm, 30-degree temperatures would soon be headed my way. I'd spent too many extravagant meals believing that past training would still pay off for me today in the same waistline.

So far, so good. I've manged to consume much more water and make healthier choices this past week with surprising ease.

Instead of several "oops" per day, I've manged to cut it down to one or two, hoping they'll all add up soon to one less pant size.