Grace and Grit

“All the while, I have been running in varying degrees. Even when I’m not running consistently, I’ve always considered myself a runner. It is how I define myself. Running has always been a friend to me, and I’m grateful for the ability to run.”  

That quote comes from athlete Jenna Litschewski. Merriam-Webster’s definition of an athlete is “a person who is trained or skilled in exercises, sports, or games requiring physical strength, agility, or stamina.” If you notice, there is no mention of competition or winning, only “skilled in exercises.” By the end of this article, you will agree the definition is appropriate.

Some of the traits include the determination and commitment to put forth the effort.

Jenna refers to herself as being “bland,” but she is being modest. Her father was a first-round draft pick for the Detroit Pistons in 1960. Her mother was a competitive swimmer at Louisiana State University. There may be some connection through the genes.

Before obtaining her law degree from Tulane, Jenna obtained a pilot’s license. She also briefly worked as a landman at the Shell Oil Company after she graduated early from Southern Methodist University and was waiting to attend law school.  (“A landman is a public-facing side of an oil, gas, mineral, or other energy sources exploration and production team who interacts and negotiates directly with landowners to acquire leases for the exploration and development of minerals or other energy sources.”).

Jenna shares comments relative to her fitness program as to what has worked and what has not, including adjustments she has had to make over the last year.

How has your view toward physical fitness changed because of COVID?

1. The passion. While I’m not sure I claim that my “passion” for physical fitness has increased or decreased due to COVID, I have experienced a renewed and more profound gratitude for my body and its ability to move and alter my physical and emotional state.

2. The desire to run more miles. In my head, I suppose I always have the desire to run more miles, though in reality, for some reason, during COVID, I felt the need to put in more walking miles. I found running difficult—too frantic, like the rest of the world. Instead, I found that walking allowed me to focus my thoughts, ponder more deeply, notice my surroundings, and breathe more deeply, lowering any anxiety I might be feeling. COVID reminded me that it doesn’t matter how far or how fast one moves; it only matters that one keeps moving.

3. Competition, to get faster or to maintain it. It’s been a long time since I’ve concerned myself with competing in running, even against myself. I’ve learned to run for the sake of running. During much of 2020, I found myself struggling to maintain running for the reasons noted above. When I didn’t feel like running during COVID, I learned to adapt and not beat myself up for not logging runs. My brisk walks were more therapeutic for me and helped me maintain my fitness, possibly even better than slogging a slow run.

4. My wellbeing. My motto for 2020 quickly became “just keep moving” and helped me maintain my physical and mental fitness without adding the pressure of meeting certain mileage or time goals.

What was the motivation for lacing up a pair of shoes that first time?

As a young girl, I was a tomboy and had natural running speed. I loved the thrill of how quickly my long, lean legs could take me from one point to another. I also loved (and, admittedly, am a tad embarrassed to confess) how others responded with shock and praise when they watched me run. As early as the 2nd grade, I beat all the girls and boys, winning blue ribbons and clocking record times at the annual field day in school. In the 6th grade, I went to a sports camp at Baylor, where I set a camp record in the 50-yard dash that lasted at least 30-plus years. In a nutshell, I guess I had the “need for speed,” but I also thrived on the thrill of winning, picking up the blue ribbons, and receiving recognition from friends, family, and strangers for my running abilities. It made me feel special.

What thoughts come to mind when you think of the word “running?” 

 Health, balance, freedom, guilt (for not doing enough of it lately!

What can you share to get someone moving?  

I guess the Nike ad comes to mind: “Just do it.” Forget all excuses. Don’t overanalyze. Don’t set goals too high. Just go. Just move. One will never regret the time spent moving—running, hiking, walking. It’s a gift that we give to ourselves every single time we do it.

Have you found this sport to be emotional? 

Totally. I particularly find myself emotional whenever I run a race. I’m consistently moved by various runners from all different walks of life, different socioeconomic and ethnic backgrounds, and different sizes and shapes, running for various reasons. Yet, the diverse group is tightly united by one thing—running. I’m moved by the sheer beauty and awesomeness of the front runners who have worked so hard to get to where they are. They leave nothing on the table in their race. I am moved by the grace and grit of the runner in the back of the pack. Every step is an effort and, yet, they forge ahead and cross the finish line. Frankly, I am moved by every person out there—front, back, or middle of the pack—because they are there running for whatever reason.

What’s the secret to balancing family, work, and training? 

Let go of perfection, or at least redefine it. This has always been my struggle. One cannot give 100% to family, 100% to work, and 100% to training. I have learned over the years that I am my best at all three of those things when I make time for them all. Otherwise, while I’m busy trying to be “perfect” in one area, I fail miserably. I find myself feeling frustrated and guilty for not doing the other things, thereby preventing me from giving my all to that one thing I’m focused on. I’m a work in progress, but I’m learning to let go and enjoy and let things be.

Is there a running event that holds a special meaning, and why? 

George, you know the answer to this without my having to write a word! The Army Ten Miler (ATM), of course, is my all-time favorite race of any I’ve ever done regardless of the distance, location, theme, or whatever. The ATM has everything I would ever want from a race, and every ATM I’ve run holds a special memory. (I ran my first in 1989 and have run the ATM more than 20 times.). Of course, the most special was in 2012 when I ran it just three months after my last surgery following breast cancer and reconstruction. I think I cried almost half of the race from feelings of appreciation for the ability to run. I was elated to be a part of the event that I loved so much. I felt a connection to the other runners, each of whom had their struggles; immense gratitude for so many, including you, who supported me and made me feel special; and, last but not least, the gift of being alive.

What are your challenges within this sport? 

My greatest challenge is staying consistent. Many years ago, I was able to run sporadically and still could post pretty decent times without much effort and without sustaining any injuries. That no longer is the case. Consistency is as essential for my mental health as much as it is for my physical health. I used to say that sometimes life gets in the way, but I get in the way of myself more times than not. I’m at my best self when I’m consistent and get out and run without allowing myself to convince me that I need to be doing other things. Again, there is a reason the Nike ad of “just do it” was so effective.

How did you react when your performance did not match your expectation? 

No biggie. I’ve learned that we can’t control all the factors that impact a race on any given day. It may or may not be my day. Even if I am to blame because, for example, I started too fast, in the end, I ran. And that’s generally good enough for me. A day of running a bad race is better than a day of not running.

Which race brings a smile?

In 2012, I ran the Baton Rouge marathon with my dear friend Bob Fleshner, less than six months after my last surgery. After having faced the fears and challenges that go along with cancer, I “needed” to run a marathon to prove to myself that I could still do it and that I was back to “normal.” Crossing the finish line, I have seldom felt more alive and more loved. Bob helped me train to get back in running condition, and he flew down to Louisiana, my home state, to run the race with me. Unbeknownst to me, he also had T-shirts printed up that said, “Jenna’s back,” and he and his daughter wore them in the race. My brother and mother were there at the finish line and were also wearing the T-shirts that said “Jenna’s back.” Finally, when I arrived back in Virginia, my husband and two daughters, who had been unable to attend the marathon but who had supported me the entire year, met me at the airport also wearing the T-shirts with “Jenna’s back.” That marathon, one of my slowest and most difficult, brings a smile every time I think of it and reconfirms that indeed I’m back.

As the years go by, what differences have you noticed in yourself and your performance?

I  enjoy running for the sake of running. I often don’t even wear my watch that tracks my mileage and pace. I get much less gratification from noting my mileage in my calendar each week and, instead, run more merely because it feels good (and because I know it helps keep me balanced).

Do you believe in doing weekly high or low mileage? What works best?

I feel this is a personal choice and depends on the individual. Whatever works best for the person is best. The trick is not falling prey to what others tell you to do and instead of listening to one’s own body.

Has there been an event where you did all the wrong things right? 

Did you learn anything? Absolutely. Eating a burger with jalapeños and a beer and getting only a few hours of sleep two nights before a 10-miler and then starting at a 5K pace to try to knock off a few minutes early in the race did not prove to be one of my better decisions. I also discovered that hills in a marathon could be a game-changer. Training not only for the distance but the terrain and time of the marathon can make a difference in performance.

What is your race day plan from the time you wake until the start? 

Nothing too dramatic. I like to wake up an hour early before I have to leave the house. My clothes are laid out to quickly slip into my race clothes and pin on my bib. I drink a big glass of water and typically drink about a half cup of coffee and a banana. Inevitably, I will have butterflies in my stomach, which still makes me laugh. I’m certainly not competing at this stage, and typically I’m just out there to have a good time and finish. Yet, I’m going to be nervous . . . and excited . . . and anxious. Some things never change. 

When you are in a running event, what thoughts go through your mind?

As I was preparing to write a response to this inquiry, I just had somewhat of a revelation. I just realized that it had been eons since I’ve run a race alone. I can’t even remember the last race I ran without a family member (typically my husband) or a friend by my side, at least at the start, if not the entire way. Fortunately, my husband and I are well-matched in our running capabilities and generally are comfortable running at the same pace and distances. So, I run most races with him and often with a broader group of friends. I also have a women’s group with whom I occasionally travel and run. As I think about what thoughts go through my mind in a running event, my predominant thought is gratitude. I’ve been blessed to share in the experience and love of running with my husband, Jack, my daughters, Jeanette and Jackie, and so many friends.

Running makes me feel fully alive, and I’m grateful for my life.

“Jenna’s back.”