Lisa Baumert

We've got this.

  • Home
  • Blog
    • What I’m loving
    • What I’m thinking
    • Running
  • About Lisa
    • Contact
  • Through the Lens

self love

I need running more than ever

February 7, 2017 by Lisa Leave a Comment

When things don’t make sense and the world is spinning out of control, when absurdity and malice prevail, I need running more than ever. When I’m angry and sad and confused and despairing for the world I want my kids to grow up in; when the news seems fake and I wish the facts were alternative, I need running more than ever.

In the past few months, I’ve needed running because it is an escape – from reality, from Twitter, from my obsessions and fears. But also because running brings me back to reality – back to the hard and pounding cadence of what is, and what this day – and this day alone – requires. Running wears out any pretense of what I want to be or wish wasn’t, leaving only the heaving, sweaty, tired core of who I am, and what is.

I need running because it reminds me that I can do hard things.

Running teaches me that hard work produces results – and also, that sometimes, it doesn’t. Running teaches me that working for and toward good things is always worth it.

Running forces me to listen to myself, to take care of myself and to treat myself with respect.

Running makes me strong.

Running connects me with fierce, funny, talented women who care deeply about being good people – good employees, mothers, wives, daughters, friends and runners.

Running reminds me that I come from a long line of strong women.

Kathrine &
Grete &
Joan &
Cindy – my mother – who was among the first generation of women given the opportunity to run. When her high school track coach was reluctant to let his female athletes run more than a couple laps around the track, she returned home after practice to log miles on the country roads that veined out in all directions from her family’s Nebraska farm. At the University of Nebraska, she lettered in Track & Field and Field Hockey, the very first year women were able letter in sports.

I need running because it reminds me that women are strong – and we’re getting stronger.

Running makes me feel free and powerful.

Running reminds me of my limitations, and my need for the love and support and friendship of others.

Running shows me the necessity of listening to, loving and supporting others.

Running helps me understand that I matter; my body matters.

Running teaches me that my body is my own and that it is useful. It is capable of doing difficult and awesome things. Running teaches me that my body is not an object of or tool for, others – that the difficult and awesome things my body does, can be for me alone, and no one else.

I’ve needed running more than ever in the past few months because – it’s just running. It’s a privilege and a hobby whose meaning is derived from my use of it, the value which I give it. Running matters and it doesn’t – and it’s beautiful because of that. Running stands in stark contrast to those things which really are a matter of life and death, of a better, more equitable future for all.

I need running now more than ever because it grounds me, and it prepares me to live and work honestly and courageously in the world outside the running path.

Posted in: Running, What I'm thinking Tagged: politics, Running, self love, What I'm Thinking

Today’s outfit

May 25, 2016 by Lisa 3 Comments

First grade outfit

Today my outfit looks a lot like something I would have worn in first grade.

Back then, my favorite color was purple, my favorite food was Cosmic Brownies and my favorite activity was monopolizing the swings during recess while singing songs from Aladdin.

Is it weird to worry that your 6-year-old self wouldn’t like your current self? Because I do.

Sure, first grade Lisa didn’t like to brush her teeth and refused to learn how to read, but she also unselfconsciously embraced what she liked. She sang really loud and tried to set pr’s with her skip-it and traversed the neighborhood on a pogo stick. She thought everything Lisa Frank was made especially for her.

She rode her bike like this:

Little Lisa on a bike

I think she was more brave than I am.

I bet she would like the skirt I’m wearing today and my balcony garden. She’d find my pantry boring, but my nail polish collection, amazing. So that’s a start.

Being an adult is awesome (when it doesn’t suck). But childhood had a whole lot more wonder and exploration and risk and unbridled amusement.

I probably don’t have enough of those things.

I worry a lot about what other people think. And most of the time, that gets me no where but confused and anxious.

I think I’m going to lean into my worry about 6-year-old Lisa’s estimation of me. Her opinion – if nothing else – will leave me in a more colorful and happy place.

Posted in: What I'm thinking Tagged: self love, What I'm Thinking

What I do when I don’t run

February 25, 2016 by Lisa 1 Comment

I’m in the midst of a two-week break from running.

After back-to-back marathon cycles my body needed rest and my mind wanted a hiatus. This break has been good.

Current mood:

This is me, not running. I'm watching KUWTK, playing solitaire, staying hydrated, not reading Infinite Jest, wearing a Korean sheet mask (they deserve a post unto themselves) and scowling at my husband for taking this picture.

This is me, not running. I’m watching KUWTK, playing solitaire, staying hydrated, not reading the copy of Infinite Jest on my nightstand, wearing a Korean sheet mask (they deserve a post unto themselves, btw) and scowling at my husband for taking this picture.

If I’m being honest, my entire life is constructed around running. What I eat, how much I sleep, when I travel – nearly everything about how I live is at some level, done with running in mind.

What will make me feel good and strong? What will give me energy and fuel me well? These are the questions that drive my day-to-day existence.

Most of the time, living my life in this way doesn’t feel burdensome or frustrating. I’ve run nearly every day since I was 12 and have gotten used to the routine. I’ve also come to view my running lifestyle as a path to self-awareness and self-care. I’m kinder and more attentive to myself when I’m asking the questions above. I’m at my best when I am running.

But, all of that doesn’t mean I dread breaks from running. Pauses in my training are like a vacation, a hall pass or a “Get Out of Jail Free” card. They afford me the opportunity to be lazy and glutenous. They change up my routine in a wonderful way. Breaks from running give my body and mind a chance to rest and heal and re-calibrate.

For the past 12 days I have slept an extra two and half hours each night, set personal records in time spent watching television and consumed a hearty amount of alcohol. I’ve skipped the gym after work to catch dinner with friends, and let myself fall down every internet rabbit hole I’ve stumbled across. Not running is great.

Breaks from running haven’t always come easy. Like most competitive female distance runners, at my worst I’m neurotic and obsessive. Running can be my drug – a way to shut myself off from the more difficult and unwanted parts of myself and my life. A break from running can mean anxiety. It can mean a breakdown in my defenses against issues I’m literally running away from. But now in healthier times, I can embrace a pause in training as a way to appreciate this hobby for what it can be at its best – a source a joy, relationships and confidence.

The Olympic Trials left me hungry and inspired – eager to be fast and strong and competitive. As much as I’m loving this hiatus, I’m looking forward to resuming the routine of my running-centric life.  I think I still have a lot of fast times left in my legs and a lot of miles yet to run. Plus, I miss my Twin Cities Track Club teammates and the feeling of my body being a well-oiled machine.

It’s creepy face masks and wasted time for a few more days – then its back to the life I love and the routine in which I thrive.

Posted in: Running Tagged: Running, self love

The Olympic Trials: Race recap

February 17, 2016 by Lisa 1 Comment

On Saturday I ran the Olympic Marathon Trials.

The stakes were higher and the stage was grander, but Saturday’s race was still a marathon. It required the detail and shrewdness of execution that any marathon does. Like every 26.2 mile effort, it demanded all of my emotional and physical strength.

Olympic Trials bib

 

The uniqueness of this race, for me, lied in it’s openness. For the past two and a half years I have chased down the Olympic Trials Qualifying Standard, running marathon after marathon with a concrete, clear goal in mind. My success and failure were simply judged by whether I ran under 2:43. But now I reached my goal. Getting to the starting line of this race was the object of all of my work – thousands of miles, early morning workouts and considerable sacrifice.

As mentioned in my last post, my preparation for the Trials was a bit unconventional. The length, conditions and intensity of my training were modified and as a consequence, I didn’t have a thorough read on my fitness. I trusted that I was in some sort of shape to run well, but I was reluctant to set a specific time goal.

So instead of time, my goals for this race revolved around my attitude and experience of the event. Sure, I wanted to run well. But this was the first marathon in a very long time that I had the opportunity to run without a time goal hanging over my head, without the fear of falling short or not being enough. Saturday’s race presented me with the freedom to focus on the quality of my race – not just it’s quantity – i.e. time.

Prior to the race I established these goals:

I wanted to soak up the experience. This was rare, fantastic opportunity. I wanted to notice and appreciate this chance that I had to compete in the Olympic Trials – the pinnacle of my beloved sport. I wanted to enjoy the festivities and the many family and friends who traveled to L.A. to watch me compete. I wanted to be present and grateful.

I wanted to be positive and proud. I’m a competitor and achiever to my bones –Enneagram Type Three, anyone? When I’m not winning or competing at my best, it’s easy for me to feel inadequate and defeated. I’m my own harshest critic and a cruel and persistent judge of my performance. On Saturday, when I was sized up against the best runners in the nation, it would have been easy for me to feel “less than”. And so, I resolved to be proud of myself and run with joy, knowing that I earned my place on that starting line. As with all things in life, I had the opportunity to choose how I interpreted and responded to the outcome of this race. I wanted to choose to make sense of it with honesty and positivity.

I wanted to be inspired. This past weekend in L.A. was a reunion of the biggest names, and a display of the greatest talent in the elite distance running world. It’s a small world, but an foundational one to those of us who love this sport. I resolved to notice and appreciate the strength, camaraderie and beauty that running produces. I wanted to fall in love with this sport all over again, and be inspired by the talent and dedication of my fellow athletes.

These goals were intangible, but substantive. Their achievement would require presence and focus – not merely sheer physical strength.

The day before the race, my dear friend Jenny gave me a “good luck” card. It was thoughtful and encouraging and contained the following phrases that perfectly summed up my goals for the race:

Be present, here and now. Be strong and proud.

These words became my mantra throughout Saturday’s hot, shade-less, 26.2 mile battle.

Singlet

The entire weekend was filled with nervous, electric energy. From the uniform check and the special fluids drop-off to the technical meeting and shakeout runs, the atmosphere was celebratory yet focused. Everyone seemed grateful and excited to be there, but subdued and acutely aware of the task that lay ahead.

I was reunited with friends, former teammates and familiar faces from the running community. More than 20 family and friends traveled to L.A. to watch the Trials and cheer me on. Their presence and encouragement kept me calm and positively distracted in the days and hours leading up to the race.

I shared elevators with Galen Rupp and Alberto Salazar, Deena Kastor and Shalane Flanagan. I passed Kara Goucher and Meb Keflezighi on Friday’s shakeout run. These names probably don’t mean anything to most of you, but suffice it to say, I was in running nerd heaven. I was inspired.

Credentials

The Olympic Trials course was unique and presented some interesting challenges. It was a criterium-style course that consisted of an initial 2.2-mile loop followed by a 6-mile loop that was run four times. You’ll see from the map below that much of the 6-mile loop was run on a single road. The course was contained entirely within downtown Los Angeles, and for spectators, it was a dream.CA15079RS

The sun was high and strong on Saturday when my friend Michelle and I made our way out of the start/finish staging area and onto the course to begin our warm-up. We tried not to notice the heat. But, after a 10 minute jog we returned to staging area and admitted to one another through nervous laughs that it was “so f-ing hot.”

America the Beautiful was sung. The Star Spangled Banner was played.

On the starting line, I resolved to stay calm and savor the large, energetic crowd and festive atmosphere. I poured water down my back to stay cool and shifted my weight from one foot to the other – a nervous tick. Be present, here and now.

From the gun, my legs felt a bit heavy and less lively than I would like. I ran in a large pack of runners, up and around the first 2.2 mile loop. I chose to remain non-judgmental and composed about how I was feeling. I ignored the idea that this race wouldn’t unfold well. Breathe in. Breathe out. Be strong.

Olympic Trials Running

Each time we finished a loop of the course we passed back through the start/finish area. It was loud and crowded with spectators. Music blared and an announcer read our names as we ran by. I used this energy and the slight downhill going into and coming out of the start/finish line area, to gain momentum. I reminded myself at the end and beginning of every loop that I had earned my spot in this race, and that I should enjoy it. Be proud.

lrmobile1602-2016-1005106816878469612.jpeg

My main cheering section of 14 family and friends were positioned on Figueroa Street, south of the start/finish area. I passed them twice during each of the four, six-mile loops and came to savor their encouragement and loud cheers.  During the first few loops I smiled at and acknowledged familiar faces along the course. On my second 6-mile loop I took a small tangent to the side of the road to high-five my cheering squad. Soak up the experience.

High five

Every three miles we passed a fluid station that contained our personal bottles. With men’s tables on the left side of the road and women’s on the right, I knew which of the numbered tables my bottle would be on.  At each station I would grab my electrolyte-filled bottle, transfer it to my left hand, proceed to the “neutral fluids” – i.e. water – table, grab a 16oz bottle of Dasani, open it and pour it on my head to gain some sense of reprieve from the sweltering sun. For the next 400 to 800m I would drink as much of the liquid in my personal fluid bottle as I could. By the second water stop, all the fluids on the course were warm and far from refreshing. Stay calm. Relax. Push forward.

Water bottles

Ideal temperatures in which to run a marathon are 40 or 50 degrees. Saturday’s race pushed into the 80’s. The course – apart from a few small sections on the USC campus – was completely without shade. At the end of the first 6-mile loop I saw my first competitor drop out of the race. From then on, I watched people struggle, collapse, drop out of the race and stop, defeated and crying. The heat was brutal, dangerous and unforgiving.

lrmobile1602-2016-1021106473737464899.jpeg

Be present, here and now. Be strong and proud.  – This was my mantra, my running mediation. I rode the waves of pain, tried to remain patient through the more difficult miles, and calmed and regulated my breathing over and over and over again. This race was for me, an exercise in presence, awareness and mental fortitude. I resolved to finish – and to do so with pride and strength.

As monotonous as the Olympic Marathon Trials course was, its many loops helped me visual and break down the race in my mind. I was always aware of where I was on the course and how far I had to go. I knew when I would encounter the next water stop and where I needed to take my next energy gel.

L.A. running

As I finished my 3rd 6-mile loop and prepared to head back out on to Figueroa for the final time, I faced a moment of fear and weariness. I was thirsty and tired. My legs were on the verge of cramping and my stomach wanted so badly to reject its glucose-laden contents. I doubted if it was worth it. This last six miles was going to suck.

I let the achiever in me feel shame at my slowing pace. In one giant, destructive thought I simultaneously felt sorry for myself and criticized myself.

I passed through the start/finish area for the fourth time and almost as if my body was ignoring my mind’s weak and self-pitying protests, I strode out back on to the course – and into the most grueling 6 miles of my life.

It was a sad, slow 6 miles, but 6 miles that affirmed the validity of my pre-race goals. Being present and aware is no small task when your body is shutting down and your mind wants to focus on anything but the pain. Being strong and proud feels like a joke when you are creeping along through a sparsely-populated course, covered in water, salty sweat and Gatorade.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointing by the time I saw on the clock when I crossed the finish line. It was slow – slower than I’ve ever run for a marathon. Then again, most everyone ran slow that day – about 10-15 off their goal. I finished, and that was something.

With a medal around my neck and a bag of ice on my head, I found my fan club. They were so happy and proud. I felt loved. When I retrieved my phone and saw the support that had been pouring in from across the country on social media, I felt so affirmed.

lrmobile1302-2016-08258088758494410.jpeg

I’ve noticed – in the hours and days that have followed – that the task of fulfilling the goals I established for this race continues.

Remembering and interpreting the events of this past weekend requires less struggle and suffering than the race itself – for sure – but it requires work all the same. It requires awareness – and a choice to be proud of my performance and to acknowledge my strength in finishing.

I’ve come to believe that one of the most important and difficult challenges of life is choosing how we interpret meaning from experience.

Actively and constructively deciding to see and understand life – its events, relationships and people – in a productive and non self-centered manner is hard. Choosing to see things in a way that supports relationships, growth, truth and the value of all people is far from our default mode of operation. But it is a choice that makes us better, more human and more connected to one another.

When I reflect upon my Olympic Trials experience, my default mode is one of self-pity and shame. I wanted to run faster and place higher. On the biggest running stage, I didn’t shine. The critical, competitor in me doesn’t want to feel happy about my performance.

But, in my better, more conscious moments, I can view this past weekend through the lens of my initial goals for the race. And I can practice those very goals. With awareness, I can see that in an intangible but very real way, I succeeded. I was strong and proud and I was able to savor the experience. I was given a fantastic opportunity and supported, celebrated and loved through it – far beyond what I deserve.

And so, I’m carrying the mantra of Saturday’s race with me. Beyond a sloppy, excruciatingly hot and never-ending race, it seems like it could be relevant and helpful to most things.

Be present, here and now. Be strong and proud.

Posted in: Running Tagged: Olympic Trials, Running, self love

How to survive winter in Minnesota

January 25, 2016 by Lisa 1 Comment

Minneapolis Sculpture Garden

First off, please note that title of this post is not “How to love winter in Minnesota.” It’s not “How to thrive in winter in Minnesota” or “How to triumph over winter in Minnesota.” It’s “How to survive winter in Minnesota.”

I’m in the midst of my fourth Minnesota winter. So far I have yet to do much of anything more than make it through to the other side of this harsh and enduring season alive. Many people are, of course, stronger and more well-adjusted than I. Plenty of Minnesotans love winter and look forward to this region’s defining season. They embrace it.  I am not one of those people. Someday I hope and plan to figure out how to enjoy and flourish in Minnesota during the winter. When I do, I will tell you all about it. I promise.

But for now, here are some tips for staying alive in the North Star State during the 6 months of the year it is covered in snow.

Bundle Up

First and most importantly, one must properly bundle up. Before moving to Minnesota I assumed that Hunter Boots or Uggs passed as winter footwear and that a cute pea coat could get me through the winter.  It’s not that I had never lived through winter. I’ve known blustery Nebraska blizzards, endured damp-to-the-bone Chicago winters, and have experienced my fair share of New Jersey nor’easters. Winter in Minnesota is just on a whole other level.

When it comes to boots, you want something warm, waterproof, and sturdy.  Sorel seems to be the Minnesotan’s brand of choice. I’ve had these since in 2012. I wear them every time I leave the house in the winter and they have not let me down.

For a coat, I recommend something down-filled that comes to at least down to your knees.  A fur-trimmed hood isn’t just a fun accent – it keeps out snow and blocks the wind. It’s essential. All the cool kids in MSP seem to be wearing one of these. But for those of us who don’t feel like spending an entire month’s worth of rent on a jacket, something like this will do just fine.

In addition to boots and a coat, you’ll obviously need a warm hat (try one from here, if you want to be a hip, true Minnesotan), a scarf, gloves, maybe some long underwear, and wool socks.  You’ll learn very quickly that bundling up and staying warm is important. Looking cute and being fashionable are secondary to function – i.e. not freezing your ass off.

Cozy

I’m not very good at slowing down and doing nothing, and I suspect this one of the primary reasons winter in Minnesota has proved so persistently difficult for me.

In the 2015 World Happiness Report (yup, that’s a thing), the top eight countries ranked “most happy” are all in generally cold, nordic climates.

Ok. Ok. So “cold” does not necessarily equal “sad”. But why?

Many point to these countries’ cultural attitudes toward winter. In these places – like Norway, Switzerland and Denmark – winter is not something to be endured, it’s something to be enjoyed. And winter is enjoyed because it’s viewed as a time to slow down and cozy up.

The Norwegians have koselig. The Danes have hygge. However you translate it, it has to do with not fighting the cold – and accepting that life’s routines and expectations must be altered because of it.

For me, this idea of koselig or hygge means being OK with being lazy. It means Netflix bingeing and going down senseless internet rabbit holes. (Remind me to tell you about the time I got really into reading Mormon mommy blogs.) It means accepting that I’m not going to get as much done. And it means being OK that some days (like yesterday), I’m going to be in a shitty mood and will put off taking a shower after my run for most of the day.

Sometimes, during the earth’s coldest, darkest points in the year, your mind and body follow suit. Do something mindless and wait it out.

On a related note, I think we live in a amazing time for cold weather living. The sharing/streaming/on-demand economy is a perfect facilitator of coziness. Order dinner out, get your groceries delivered, take an Uber instead of walking, utilize Amazon Prime Now to its fullest extent. And don’t feel guilty about it.

Cozy up. Stay in. Chill out.

Slush

I married a Minnesotan who loves winter. He is a really wonderful person but a terrible source of empathy when I’m at my winter-hating/despairing worst. He struggles to understand why I don’t always think Minnesota and it’s beloved winter are THE BEST THINGS EVER. And I find that he is not alone.

Many Minnesota natives don’t seem to offer me space and the affirmation to express my frustrations about how much winter can suck here. Typical responses from Minnesotans to my negative comments about the weather include:

“I remember the Halloween Blizzard of 1991. The roads were coated with two inches of ice and we got 30 inches of snow and I went to work the next day!”

or

“Winters were so much worse when I was kid. This is nothing compared to how it used to be.”

And while those statements very well may be true, they don’t negate the fact that this winter, right now, is hard and cold and miserable.

And so, I suggest befriending non-native Minnesotans. Find someone who didn’t grow up here – someone who is just as miserable as you are – and have a bitch-fest. Name the suck. Sure, your complaining won’t do anything to change the weather, but it’s cathartic to say it out loud to someone who is just as miserable as you.

Suggested topics for complaint:

  • The winter is too long. As I experienced during my first year here, winter can start in October and go into May.
  • It’s really cold. Case in point: last year, Minneapolis Public Schools changed its outdoor recess policy. They increased the minimum temperature required to have indoor recess from -15° to -10°. That’s not improvement. That’s craziness. Lord, please be with those poor children.
  • Winter is so persistently harsh. On average, the Twin Cities experiences 21 days per winter with below zero temperatures. During my second winter here, we had 52. I’m still recovering.

Winter path

Now that I’ve addressed the virtues of doing nothing and being angry, I must admit that surviving winter in Minnesota also requires some constructive, proactive work. You can’t abandon all your routines – especially the ones that make you happy and help you feel like a normal, healthy human being. I’ve learned from experience that spending the whole winter as a lazy, cooped-up, unhealthy blob exacerbates winter’s crazy-making effects.

As hard as it can be, you have to workout and you should probably eat your vegetables every day. Feeling (at least halfway) good about yourself is a big step toward getting through the coldest months.

Get off the couch and make plans to meet up with friends. Have something to look forward to – a trip, a concert, dinner out. It doesn’t matter how big or small or cheap or expensive. The idea is that you are doing things simply for the sake of doing them. Which is sometimes all you can really ask of yourself in the depths of winter. And just maybe, in the act of doing things, you’ll discover that there is joy to be had in all this cold and darkness.

Do things that remind you, even if only at a subconscious or basic, physical level, that you are still human. You are alive. Even though everything outside is dead and covered in ice, you still have the choice to be and experience and do things well. And that matters.

Bus stop

Finally, be kind to yourself. Winter in Minnesota is hard. It feels at times like the whole frozen universe is conspiring to make everything in your life more miserable and complicated and cold. Everything – and I mean everything – takes more time, attention and work during the winter. Do yourself a favor and don’t make things worse by hating yourself.

I have lots of experience being my own biggest critic, harshest judge and cruelest messenger. And I can say, without a doubt, that self-hatred is a dead end.

You are OK. You are better than you realize. It’s alright if you don’t do it all and can’t be everything everyone wants you to be.

Start by speaking kindly to yourself. Tell yourself it’s OK. It’s OK that you feel shitty and that winter is hard.

It IS hard.

Tell yourself that it won’t last forever and that you’re doing a good job. Repeat.

Do little, simple things that make you feel good about yourself. Paint your fingernails. Go out to lunch. Dance. Watch 30 Rock.

Feeling good about yourself is important. Liking yourself is crucial. Do whatever it takes to be your own best friend.

Oh, winter. Ugh.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything changes. We’ve got this.

________________

What are your best strategies for getting through a long, harsh winter? Tell me in the comments below.

Posted in: What I'm thinking Tagged: How to, Minneapolis, Minnesota, self love, Winter

I am Lisa Baumert. I'm a person who does a bunch of stuff and has thoughts and generally tries to live life well.

follow me

follow me

Copyright © 2019 Lisa Baumert.

Lifestyle WordPress Theme by themehit.com