Running a 10k… Lauren Style.

Let me preface this post by filling you all in on a little secret: I am not a runner. No, it’s true! Some people are born for it, I swear, and I did not get the running gene. Yet, I continue to find myself signing up for all sorts of races, and have even given myself the ridiculous goal of doing a half marathon next summer. Aw man. Now I’ve written it down. Pretend you didn’t read that.



Just the other day, I ran the thanksgiving 10k at the South Davis Recreation Center. It was my second 10k of the year, however, unlike the first one I ran, I did not readily train. I found myself REMEMBERING the race was coming up a week or so before the actual day, and although I took to the street a couple times, it was hardly enough to feel confident about the impending 6 miles.

I toyed around with the idea of maybe just doing the 5k, and I’d call that good enough. However, with the support of a stalwart running partner, and the fact that I’m freakin’ Lauren Loock… the same Lauren Loock who just climbed a whole mountain weeks prior.... I decided, to heck with hesitation! Let’s run this race the Lauren way! That’s what inspired this blog post, actually. I stumbled upon a running article that gave advice for us writing blokes to WRITE a story in your head while you run, which, in turn, takes the focus off the run and puts it into words of wisdom.



So that’s what I did. And this is that post. And I STILL didn’t run consistently.



“Lauren! What did you do if you didn’t run consistently? Teach us your ways.”


I’m glad you asked, voice in my head. I’m now going to give you the step by step, or, in my case, leap-by-leap events of my run.



1. The run began like runs do; a giant herd of people, facing the same direction, with dazed looks on their faces much like our brother… the cow. As the herd slowly started moving I thought to myself – It’s still not too late to “accidently” veer off with the 5kers and ask for forgiveness at the end. But! I looked down at my red 10k bib, and thought… “hmmm betta not.” Off left I ran, looking back at the 3 mile runners with puppy-dog eyes.
Shake it off, Lauren. You’ve still got a ways to go. (shake it off, shake it off!!)



2. I had a consistent run/walk/run gait going by this point, and was giving myself tiny goals along the way. “Girl. If you can’t make it to that mail box up ahead, you’re a fatty.” It was somewhere shortly after mile 1 that I glanced over to my left, only to see my old trek Mom running beside me! Bless her heart. Trek was at least 100 years ago, but we recognized each other, and she was killing this run! When you’re on a course like that, it’s easy to spot the ones that have trained, as opposed to the ones in the long sleeved cotton t-shirt going out of their way to step on crunchy looking leaves…



I’m not naming names, but the leaves this time of year ARE lovely for crunching.



3. After a brief reunion with my “mom,” I carried on with the Lauren-Gait (Paten Pending.) Only now we were nearing mile 2.5, which I only know because I got a text that would have been silly of me to not check RIGHT THEN. Bonus points for not responding though… I AM an athlete, after all. Geez. I was consistently staying a good pace behind trek Mom, and decided I was ok with that. She would be my trusty leader in this race.



I wish I could say the same for the girl with the French braid.



Since the beginning, French braid and I had been playing a little game of cat and mouse where she would pass me, I would pass her, she would pass me… etc. It was right there, nearing mile 3 that I decided to channel my inner Seabiscuit; the minute she and I came eye to eye, I was going to leave her in the dust. She was the war-admiral, the experienced competition horse, and I was the small, never-going-to-amount-to-anything colt who was going to show her I meant business. From the halfway mark on, I didn’t let that French braid bounce in front of me for long.



4. While the Lauren-gait suited me just fine, there was a moment about 3.5 miles in that I found myself in a full out SPRINT for a good 5 minutes. That would be when the girl running near me decided to drop to the ground and start PUKING. Fight or flight kicked in this vomit-phobic and I was GONE. That’s all I have to say about that.



5. After sprinting into next year, I slowed back down to my now run/walk/walk/walk/ruuu..nah-let’s-walk-a-little-more gait. Caught back up to my “Mom,” where she entrusted me with some of her running secrets. She checked her time, checked her pace, and I listened intently; after all, my brain thinks I’m running a half marathon in July. It was mid-conversation, however, that I caught a glimpse of the most beautiful creatures out of the corner of my eye.



Horses.



They were obviously very curious about the hoard of humans running rampant past their field, and I was obviously very curious about them being curious. It was then that I broke my gait! Dun dun dun! I had swore I would keep moving, at least a little, no matter what, but… horses. Stopped talking to “Mom,” made my way to the fence, and proceeded to pet each of them with all the joy in the world. Yeah, I believe it’s the reason I didn’t come in FIRST. #worthit



4 miles down… 2 to go.



6. After my little wild-life encounter, and despite the looks of the other runners wondering what the heck I was doing, I decided to continue on. Had to catch up to French braid, pass her, and get back into the foot-prints of trek Mom. It was about here, that Johnny Cash shuffled it’s way into my ear buds, and although not necessarily the greatest running music, it was great Lauren-Gait Music. It was right about then that I remembered it’s important to have a mantra to say over and over to yourself while you run, you know, to keep you going. My previous 10k, it was somewhere in my delusion that my mantra became “I am to run, and to run I am faster than shoes.” It makes sense, I promise. However, this race proved to create a much more promising motivator:


Leap like the gazelle you are!


And leap I did. With Mr. Cash’s slow country rock in my ears, I galloped my little heart out for a good half-mile. It made me happy, and it kept me moving. The nay-sayers around did well to just deal with it.



7. One. Mile. To. Go. I was really feeling it by this point, but my need to stay ahead of French braid, and the pacing of trek Mom was keeping me going. The song “Come on Eileen,” flipped on in my ears, and I decided that was a great ‘last mile’ song. Although, instead of the name Eileen, I obviously was going to replace it with the name Lauren. The voice in my head wasn’t doing a good enough job replacing the name with my own, so instead, I said my own name aloud when that part of the song rolled around. To see me, would be to see a galloping crazy girl shouting her own name every few seconds. It was fine. Really.



I rounded the last corned and started to sprint, like ya do, toward the finish line. There I was greeted by my parents, my friends, and my medal to say, “you did it again, you old dog!”


AND THAT is how to run a 10k Lauren-style. Run to your own, galloping beat, step on the crunchiest of leaves, listen to Mr. Johnny Cash, and, of course, stop to pet the horses. It’s not about the run. At the end of the day, I just gotta do me.


Until Next Time!

My Commute

I was driving home yesterday with all my friends in the commuter world, aka, the random people in cars next to me that I consider myself to be close to. We look at each other through the windows of our different vehicles and seem to come to the same understanding... you stay in your lane, and I'll stay in mine. A bond that cannot be torn.

I knew working in Midvale and living in Bountiful would come with a decent drive. I suppose i'm just wishing I had opted for the ipod jack in my current car, instead of being stuck with the ever so allusive cd player. I make do. First world problems, obviously.

Well, when I get too used to the same 20 songs, too lazy to burn a new cd, and too annoyed with radio hosts (talk radio isn't even an option,) I turn off the music and turn on my brain. 75 minutes worth of commute in the day is really an excellent time to use the ol' thinker. So, what did my brain start thinking about you ask? (You probably didn't ask. Let me tell you anyway.)

Driving! True story. I flashed back to a young, 16 year old Lauren FRESH behind the wheel. I learned to drive in my Mother's mini van, but my first car was Millie, an old beat up Camry. Ok, so maybe she wasn't beat up until after I had her several years, nontheless, she was a great starter car. When I first started driving Millie as a SOLO driver, I remember being terrified. I remember the first place I went alone, because my palms were sweating so much that my hands kept slipping off the wheel, which, wouldn't you know, made me sweat even more. Every car that approached me was an enemy that I closesly had to watch, stop signs were to be stopped at for a full 20 seconds, driving in any kind of precipitation was not an option, and left hand turns... oh, left hand turns. Basically, when I first started driving, I was as alert as I'd ever been on the roads of death. I was patient. I was inquisitive. I was as observant as humanly possible.

I wish I could say the same for 'current Lauren.' Unfortunately, driving has become, more or less, an unconscience effort. Somedays I get to work and have to think very hard to actually remember getting there. I flip on the blinker, I change lanes, I come to a stop at a red, and left hand turns... well as long as i'm not on the bloody side, I think I can make this riiiiiiiiight NOW! Driving has become part of my well-rehearsed dance. It's kind of a scary thought that it's become so routine, but I know i'm not the only one. These things happen when we do something over and over... and over... and over again.

Well! In the words of Rascal Flatts, the poets they are, Life is a Highway! True to Lauren form, this is about to get almost too deep to comprehend.

Have we all succumb to the dance of life? What if life really IS the highway, and we are all just old Toyota Camrys cruising along. I'm sure it was all exciting and nerve wracking, at first, as we very cautiously stepped along... but now it's just another day, another 20 miles. That's probably just as scary as the subconscience driving effort when you think about it, because, like driving, if we don't keep our eyes open, our minds alert, or our knowledge of the rules present... chances are that one day we will be side-swiped. We will be hit. We will cause an accident that could have been avoided. And will all happen way too suddenly, catching our blank gaze off guard.

Like the roads, there is way too much going on in the world around us as we 'travel' on. Keeping our eyes open will allow us to catch the sunrise over Salt Lake City. Keeping our minds sharp will help us to avoid a careless collision that could hurt us… or, maybe even worse, it could hurt one of our own.

Long story short, I'm going to pay a little better attention on the roads, much like I did as a teenager. I'm also going to consider each day in the most perceptive way possible. Hopefully, between the two of these goals, I'll see a little more, and be a little more. It doesn't take much to be assertive.

Until next time!

We Didn't Get The Horse

We Didn't Get The Horse

I always wanted a horse.
Ever since I was a little girl, I would imagine owning a horse.
I would collect horse figurines, and stuffed animals.
I picked out names for the horses I would someday have.
Mayberry, Buck, and Capizio were my favorites.


When I turned 16, I almost got a horse.
My parents and I looked at a beautiful Paint Pony named Geronimo.
We actually discussed me getting a horse!
The plan was to rent a piece of land, and keep the horse on it.
I would have to wake up, before school, to feed him.
Exercise him.
Feed him again.


Then we remembered I was a 16 year old girl.
I'd never owned a horse.
School wasn't really my top priortiy to begin with.
I was a new driver.

We didn't get the horse.

Sometimes I day dream that we did get him.
I imagine how my life would have changed.
Would it have been drastically altered?
I would have woken up early, and learned about dedication.
I would have had to had a good job to pay for feed.
I would have bonded with the horse.
I would have gotten really good at riding...
maybe even entering a rodeo!
I would have met a young cowboy at said rodeo
and we would have fallen in love riding into the sunset.
I would have graduated high school
Gotten married to the cowboy at 18
Moved to a home in the country
Where I would now have 2 kids and stables full of horses!
Maybe we would start a business
Teaching children to ride..
Or using our horses as therapy!
I would have written a book about a suburb girl gone country,
Gotten awesome reviews,
big sales, 

the money would be flowing it,
our family would be growing,
our land would be growing,
our horses would be many,

and that would be my life!!

But

We didn't get the horse.

My life doesn't have a big farm house,
A sexy cowboy,
or a little paint pony.

My life took a different direction completely.

And my life is good.

Things happen for a reason,
and it's crazy how one particular event happening, or not,
could be the deciding factor of a whole series of events.

We didn't get the horse.

Had we, things probably would have been ok,
but they wouldn't be the things I know and love today.

I wonder what choice I'll make next to alter the domino game that is life.