Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Ends and Beginnings...
My alarm went off at 4:45a.m. this morning, but I was awake long before that. I slept last night, but woke up at least once an hour, frightened that I had slept through the alarm, afraid that I may sleep through one of the most important days of my life. I waited for the alarm before getting out of bed, then showered, applied the slightest bit of under-eye concealer and mascara (I didn't want the mortician to be horrified if my body should arrive at the morgue later in the day), dressed in my laid-out clothes, ate half of a plain bagel and half of a banana, drank half of a lemon-lime Gatorade, and waited for Caroline to pick me up.
At 5:15 Caroline picked me up from my house, along with her very sweet and supportive husband and sister, and we drove to the West Falls Church Metro where we boarded a metro train jam-packed with runners. When we finally made it to the Runner's Village we waited in the porta-potty line, twice, to try to make sure that we had fully emptied our bladders.
At about 7:45 or so we made our way to our corral at the start line. You line up based on your expected finish time. Well, most of us do. This is the Marine Corps Marathon and many disabled veterans race too, in wheelchairs and with hand-cycles. What they do is so much harder than what we do. They start first. Then the competitive runners are behind them. Then the rest of us start. From the time the start gun (cannon) went off, it was another 16 minutes before we actually crossed the start line.
As we waited in the start corral, I noticed eyeryone else's D-tag (chip attached to your shoe to track your time) had their bib number printed on it, and mine didn't. I figured I needed to spin the little tag thingy around, so I did. No bib number. Caroline and I realized at the same time what I had done. I attached the direction half and not the half with the chip in it. I immediately knew the consequences of this mistake. There would never be an official record of me having run the race. If I finished I would have the pictures (MarathonFoto takes pictures of you along the way), and I would have the medal, but no record of my splits and of my finish time. I wanted to vomit, right there, before I had taken one step of the 26.2 miles. How in the hell was I going to qualify for Boston now? Seriously though, it was in that moment that I realized that it didn't matter. I couldn't care less. This was never about anyone else. This was something I was doing for me. If no one else ever knows I did it, or cares that I did it, what difference could that possibly make to me? Logistically, however, it made it impossible for my mother and trainer/friend to have any idea of where I was going to be so that they could follow me along the route.
Everyone that I know that has run this race before told me about all the adrenaline that was going to have on race day, I don't know what that feels like, but I was excited - like I was going on an f-ing vacation or something (it did not take me long to understand that this was not going to feel like a vacation.) The gun (cannon) goes off, and here we go, well, 16 minutes later anyway. Felt good. Start off by the Pentagon, then on some parkway (maybe Spout Run Parkway), and through the Palisades and down M-street in Georgetown. That was the first 9 or 10 miles I think. I had finally warmed up and took Andy's Under Armor shirt off. The weather was beyond perfect. If I had called God up and requested a specific set of weather conditions, it could not have been better. It was cold in the very early morning, but by the time the sun was all the way up, it was truly beautiful.
I had heard that this race was a very entertaining event, and that proved to be delightfully accurate. There are spectators with signs, some with 80's outfits and Cindy Lauper on a boombox, groups of singers and bands, and other random things to keep your mind off of the pain. I think what I found to be the best entertainment was reading the shirts of other runners. Some were funny (a husband and wife - husband's shirt: "slow down jarhead" wife's shirt: "keep up shipmate", husband's shirt: "i married a marine" wife's shirt: "i married a seaman", husband's shirt: "1st Marine Corps Marathon" wife's shirt "5th Marine Corps Marathon"), some were inspirational ("Today is My Birthday, I am 50, 1st Marathon, Life is Good"), some were motivational ("Pain is Weakness Leaving the Body"), and some were sad (a lot of people were running in honor of a fallen soldier or loved one that had died).
By mile 12 my knee really hurt. At some point Caroline started to walk, and I thought, what the hell, I will too - we might have been 15/16 miles in by then. And that was when I knew it was really bad. I couldn't walk, it was a serious hobble, running was less painful - so I jogged next to Caroline who was speed-walking. This was pretty much how we finished out the race (Caroline did run more after that, but we slowed significantly because of my knee.) We saw Caroline's nephew (a chiropractor) and his wife, and he adjusted her back on the pavement and tried to help with my knee (it was the IT Band - whatever that is, was hurt). Almost immediately after that we saw my mom and Andy, which was nice, and we kept going.
"The Bridge," the 14th Street Bridge (which is literally about 2 miles long), must be "beat" by 1:15pm, or about 5 hours into the race. It starts at mile 20. Right before the bridge, we saw my mom and Andy again. After we passed them, Andy caught up with us (probably not too hard), and started to run with me. I thought he was just going to go a little way and then go back to my mom. No. He ran the entire rest of the race with me (up to the .2, when they make you get off if you are not an official runner). And that is the real story. He is 13 years old, was wearing skateboarding shoes, and ran 6 miles to support me. It took me months to get up to 6 miles. Halfway across the bridge he said, "I'm really proud of you mom," which was probably better than crossing the finish line. He never complained, never asked to stop, and was so sweet when he could tell I was really hurting.
My trainer/friend joined us on the other side of the bridge, and helped me through the those last four miles. After telling him how happy I was to see him I had to give him the big "P.S. - uh, you aren't getting text messages because I attached the direction tag instead of the chip tag to my shoe." He laughed, and said, "well, when I didn't get any texts I knew either the whole system was down or that you attached the tag incorrectly." Needless to say he was not surprised it was the later. By mile 23 I wanted to stop. Not to quit, per say, but just to stop, for the pain to stop. I don't know how I was putting one foot in front of the other. When I would want to stop he would take my hand long enough to get me going again. He pointed out that with every single step I was going farther than I had ever run before. It hurt.
We finished. Six Hours, Five Minutes, 27 Seconds. Which we only know because Caroline did attach her chip, and not the directions. We ran up the final hill and the last short straight segment and it was finally over. A very nice marine grabbed me (my knee was exploding at this point), put a medal around my neck, and walked (almost carrying) me to get ice. I took the ice, never had a chance to thank him, and went to get the finisher photo taken with Caroline. I found Ken (trainer/friend) and Andy, said bye to Ken (had his daughter's birthday party to attend, which meant he had to run 4.5 miles back to his car first), and then found my mom (who had been separated from Andy with his impromptu run).
So, this is it, the final blog entry. I will turn 30 years old on Tuesday, apparently running a marathon does not stop time. In the past five months I have run a marathon, raised over $2,300 to fight leukemia, somehow come to terms with the fact that 30 is going to happen.......
I think the only proper way to end this entry is with some thank-you's - to all the people without whom none of this would have been possible.
My Kids - You are the inspiration for everything good I have ever accomplished. Without any one of you I would be a ship lost at sea. I love you each more than you will ever know.
Andy - In 20 years, the only thing I will remember about this race is you running with me. You are my heart. I will not run this race again until we can run the whole thing together.
Mom - Thanks for putting up with me for 30 years. Which is like a marathon, but longer, harder, and with no medals or marines at the end.
Caroline - I love running with you. I never would have made it so far without your support. You are super-mentor, you rock. Thank you the most for what you said at the end of the race today, that was the best compliment I have ever received.
Everyone Else - Thank you for your support, your donations, all of your kind words, and for being a part of this journey with me.
The End.
At 5:15 Caroline picked me up from my house, along with her very sweet and supportive husband and sister, and we drove to the West Falls Church Metro where we boarded a metro train jam-packed with runners. When we finally made it to the Runner's Village we waited in the porta-potty line, twice, to try to make sure that we had fully emptied our bladders.
At about 7:45 or so we made our way to our corral at the start line. You line up based on your expected finish time. Well, most of us do. This is the Marine Corps Marathon and many disabled veterans race too, in wheelchairs and with hand-cycles. What they do is so much harder than what we do. They start first. Then the competitive runners are behind them. Then the rest of us start. From the time the start gun (cannon) went off, it was another 16 minutes before we actually crossed the start line.
As we waited in the start corral, I noticed eyeryone else's D-tag (chip attached to your shoe to track your time) had their bib number printed on it, and mine didn't. I figured I needed to spin the little tag thingy around, so I did. No bib number. Caroline and I realized at the same time what I had done. I attached the direction half and not the half with the chip in it. I immediately knew the consequences of this mistake. There would never be an official record of me having run the race. If I finished I would have the pictures (MarathonFoto takes pictures of you along the way), and I would have the medal, but no record of my splits and of my finish time. I wanted to vomit, right there, before I had taken one step of the 26.2 miles. How in the hell was I going to qualify for Boston now? Seriously though, it was in that moment that I realized that it didn't matter. I couldn't care less. This was never about anyone else. This was something I was doing for me. If no one else ever knows I did it, or cares that I did it, what difference could that possibly make to me? Logistically, however, it made it impossible for my mother and trainer/friend to have any idea of where I was going to be so that they could follow me along the route.
Everyone that I know that has run this race before told me about all the adrenaline that was going to have on race day, I don't know what that feels like, but I was excited - like I was going on an f-ing vacation or something (it did not take me long to understand that this was not going to feel like a vacation.) The gun (cannon) goes off, and here we go, well, 16 minutes later anyway. Felt good. Start off by the Pentagon, then on some parkway (maybe Spout Run Parkway), and through the Palisades and down M-street in Georgetown. That was the first 9 or 10 miles I think. I had finally warmed up and took Andy's Under Armor shirt off. The weather was beyond perfect. If I had called God up and requested a specific set of weather conditions, it could not have been better. It was cold in the very early morning, but by the time the sun was all the way up, it was truly beautiful.
I had heard that this race was a very entertaining event, and that proved to be delightfully accurate. There are spectators with signs, some with 80's outfits and Cindy Lauper on a boombox, groups of singers and bands, and other random things to keep your mind off of the pain. I think what I found to be the best entertainment was reading the shirts of other runners. Some were funny (a husband and wife - husband's shirt: "slow down jarhead" wife's shirt: "keep up shipmate", husband's shirt: "i married a marine" wife's shirt: "i married a seaman", husband's shirt: "1st Marine Corps Marathon" wife's shirt "5th Marine Corps Marathon"), some were inspirational ("Today is My Birthday, I am 50, 1st Marathon, Life is Good"), some were motivational ("Pain is Weakness Leaving the Body"), and some were sad (a lot of people were running in honor of a fallen soldier or loved one that had died).
By mile 12 my knee really hurt. At some point Caroline started to walk, and I thought, what the hell, I will too - we might have been 15/16 miles in by then. And that was when I knew it was really bad. I couldn't walk, it was a serious hobble, running was less painful - so I jogged next to Caroline who was speed-walking. This was pretty much how we finished out the race (Caroline did run more after that, but we slowed significantly because of my knee.) We saw Caroline's nephew (a chiropractor) and his wife, and he adjusted her back on the pavement and tried to help with my knee (it was the IT Band - whatever that is, was hurt). Almost immediately after that we saw my mom and Andy, which was nice, and we kept going.
"The Bridge," the 14th Street Bridge (which is literally about 2 miles long), must be "beat" by 1:15pm, or about 5 hours into the race. It starts at mile 20. Right before the bridge, we saw my mom and Andy again. After we passed them, Andy caught up with us (probably not too hard), and started to run with me. I thought he was just going to go a little way and then go back to my mom. No. He ran the entire rest of the race with me (up to the .2, when they make you get off if you are not an official runner). And that is the real story. He is 13 years old, was wearing skateboarding shoes, and ran 6 miles to support me. It took me months to get up to 6 miles. Halfway across the bridge he said, "I'm really proud of you mom," which was probably better than crossing the finish line. He never complained, never asked to stop, and was so sweet when he could tell I was really hurting.
My trainer/friend joined us on the other side of the bridge, and helped me through the those last four miles. After telling him how happy I was to see him I had to give him the big "P.S. - uh, you aren't getting text messages because I attached the direction tag instead of the chip tag to my shoe." He laughed, and said, "well, when I didn't get any texts I knew either the whole system was down or that you attached the tag incorrectly." Needless to say he was not surprised it was the later. By mile 23 I wanted to stop. Not to quit, per say, but just to stop, for the pain to stop. I don't know how I was putting one foot in front of the other. When I would want to stop he would take my hand long enough to get me going again. He pointed out that with every single step I was going farther than I had ever run before. It hurt.
We finished. Six Hours, Five Minutes, 27 Seconds. Which we only know because Caroline did attach her chip, and not the directions. We ran up the final hill and the last short straight segment and it was finally over. A very nice marine grabbed me (my knee was exploding at this point), put a medal around my neck, and walked (almost carrying) me to get ice. I took the ice, never had a chance to thank him, and went to get the finisher photo taken with Caroline. I found Ken (trainer/friend) and Andy, said bye to Ken (had his daughter's birthday party to attend, which meant he had to run 4.5 miles back to his car first), and then found my mom (who had been separated from Andy with his impromptu run).
So, this is it, the final blog entry. I will turn 30 years old on Tuesday, apparently running a marathon does not stop time. In the past five months I have run a marathon, raised over $2,300 to fight leukemia, somehow come to terms with the fact that 30 is going to happen.......
I think the only proper way to end this entry is with some thank-you's - to all the people without whom none of this would have been possible.
My Kids - You are the inspiration for everything good I have ever accomplished. Without any one of you I would be a ship lost at sea. I love you each more than you will ever know.
Andy - In 20 years, the only thing I will remember about this race is you running with me. You are my heart. I will not run this race again until we can run the whole thing together.
Mom - Thanks for putting up with me for 30 years. Which is like a marathon, but longer, harder, and with no medals or marines at the end.
Caroline - I love running with you. I never would have made it so far without your support. You are super-mentor, you rock. Thank you the most for what you said at the end of the race today, that was the best compliment I have ever received.
Everyone Else - Thank you for your support, your donations, all of your kind words, and for being a part of this journey with me.
The End.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Final Countdown
This will be my final blog entry until after the race tomorrow. 13 hours until the gun goes off. In the past 3 days I have shifted from a state of anxiety to an acute awareness of the pain that my body will endure tomorrow, to an acceptance of that pain and unwavering will to succeed.
I spent the week analyzing every thing I ate, everything I drank, every step of my last short runs, my overall preparation for the race, and my trainer/friend. I did everything right, if I fail it will not be because of how I prepared...in fact, it will be because I died because that is the only way in hell I will fail. I have not eaten one bite of red meat since the Five Guys incident before the miserable 18 mile run, and have had almost no fat this week. I drank a lot of lemon-lime Gatorade and less than one coke a day. My trainer and I ran 4 miles on Tuesday, 5 miles on Thursday, and I did my last 4 mile run before the race on my own this morning.
Last night my trainer/friend picked me up from school (work), and took me to the Washington Convention Center downtown to pick up my race bibs and D Tag for my shoe. Number 31898. Despite all of the excitement surrounding the whole convention center experience, with thousands of runners all there to pick up their packets, I was only focused on one person, my trainer. He held my hand and took me out for dinner and wine after. He dropped me off at my car (still at school), and kissed me good night. He confuses me. I went to bed early, assuming I would not be able to sleep much tonight.
Everything is laid out and prepared for me to get dressed in the morning. Black running skirt, long-sleeve black Under Armor shirt, TNT singlet, and matching purple sports bra. I bought new tighter running socks today and a little waist belt with expandable pouch (for tampons, because of course my period started this morning exactly 24 hours before the race, tums, and antibacterial hand wipes.) I have body glide, my bibs, safety pins, and a throw-away-at-mile-3- fleece in another pile. It might rain, so I gave my mom a pair of socks in case I need to change them along the way. I gave my trainer/friend(?) a pair of sweats, a long sleeve tee shirt, and another pair of socks for me to change into after the race.
As I am about to go to sleep, I reflect back over the last 5 months. I couldn't run a mile when this all began. Every run from 3 miles to 20 was a major accomplishment, after every new milestone I thought, "How will I ever run farther than that?" I have a completely new respect for my body, what it is capable of, how it changes in direct correlation to how it is treated and used. There is something empowering about not having given up, despite all the times that I wanted to quit, to stop. I loved that I haven't had to do it all alone, which is the complete opposite of every other aspect of my life. This process has taught me so much about myself, about a strength I had forgotten. And, thanks to my trainer/friend, I have also developed a patience that is well beyond my natural limits.
11 Hours, 42 Minutes, 34 Seconds.
I spent the week analyzing every thing I ate, everything I drank, every step of my last short runs, my overall preparation for the race, and my trainer/friend. I did everything right, if I fail it will not be because of how I prepared...in fact, it will be because I died because that is the only way in hell I will fail. I have not eaten one bite of red meat since the Five Guys incident before the miserable 18 mile run, and have had almost no fat this week. I drank a lot of lemon-lime Gatorade and less than one coke a day. My trainer and I ran 4 miles on Tuesday, 5 miles on Thursday, and I did my last 4 mile run before the race on my own this morning.
Last night my trainer/friend picked me up from school (work), and took me to the Washington Convention Center downtown to pick up my race bibs and D Tag for my shoe. Number 31898. Despite all of the excitement surrounding the whole convention center experience, with thousands of runners all there to pick up their packets, I was only focused on one person, my trainer. He held my hand and took me out for dinner and wine after. He dropped me off at my car (still at school), and kissed me good night. He confuses me. I went to bed early, assuming I would not be able to sleep much tonight.
Everything is laid out and prepared for me to get dressed in the morning. Black running skirt, long-sleeve black Under Armor shirt, TNT singlet, and matching purple sports bra. I bought new tighter running socks today and a little waist belt with expandable pouch (for tampons, because of course my period started this morning exactly 24 hours before the race, tums, and antibacterial hand wipes.) I have body glide, my bibs, safety pins, and a throw-away-at-mile-3- fleece in another pile. It might rain, so I gave my mom a pair of socks in case I need to change them along the way. I gave my trainer/friend(?) a pair of sweats, a long sleeve tee shirt, and another pair of socks for me to change into after the race.
As I am about to go to sleep, I reflect back over the last 5 months. I couldn't run a mile when this all began. Every run from 3 miles to 20 was a major accomplishment, after every new milestone I thought, "How will I ever run farther than that?" I have a completely new respect for my body, what it is capable of, how it changes in direct correlation to how it is treated and used. There is something empowering about not having given up, despite all the times that I wanted to quit, to stop. I loved that I haven't had to do it all alone, which is the complete opposite of every other aspect of my life. This process has taught me so much about myself, about a strength I had forgotten. And, thanks to my trainer/friend, I have also developed a patience that is well beyond my natural limits.
11 Hours, 42 Minutes, 34 Seconds.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Countdown
I can sum up the past 20 days by stating that my training has been more consistent than my blogging. Good thing.
Before I even recap the last, wow, almost month now - I must begin by addressing the fact that the race is four days away. 4 days, 11 hours, 8 minutes and five seconds to be exact, but who's counting? I am somewhere between anxious and confident, probably more anxious. People keep asking me if I am ready, and I tell them the truth, I have no idea. They think I am being coy or modest (clearly not people that know me), but the reality is that I really have no idea.
20 Miles
I did finally conquer the 20 mile run. Caroline and I went out the week after the miserable 18 miles. We started at 5:30 in the morning at mile marker 27.5 (by the Carolina Bros.) and were going out 10 west and back. I did everything right the week leading up to the run, and was almost looking forward to it, until the alarm went off at 5:10 in the morning. It was cold, not raining but enough moisture in the air to make the cold seem colder, yet what was most startling was how dark it was. By the time we were a half mile in there was absolutely no light coming from anywhere, even the moon and stars were covered by the clouds. The only motions, the only sounds, came from us. Caroline's husband set up a water stop for us at mile 7 (so also mile 13), which was so nice - he brought us Gatorade, pretzels, sport beans - definitely a welcome stop. We were making really good time, and I knew from the point that we hit mile 8 that I was good for the 20. Miles 8 through 10 was one gradual yet grueling hill past Leesburg toward Purcellville, Caroline warned me. At first I thought, no big deal, but seriously after like a mile of never ending hill it gets a little obnoxious. Funny enough, when we turned around and ran back down that hill it felt flat. At about mile 16 we started working in walking intervals, but I felt that I didn't need to, which is good. We finished in 4 hours and 7 minutes (I think).
Iwo Jima
The last Team in Training group run was at the Iwo Jima memorial in Arlington, which is basically where the marathon starts and stops. We ran 8 miles, the last four of which are the same as the last four of the marathon. Caroline was not there, so I ran it alone, and probably started too quickly. Still though, it was a comfortable run. The course ran next to Arlington National Cemetery and then along the Potomac River with the DC landscape across the water. I hope that I am able to relax and enjoy the run on race day like I was able to do during this training run. Oh, and my big lesson on this day, I would rather pee in front of everyone or on myself or on myself in front of everyone, before I ever use a porta-potty in Gravelly Point Park again. I think I am going to puke in my mouth from thinking about it. Dry heave pause. Seriously.
Final Run
Last Sunday was my final training run. It was supposed to be 6 miles, on our own, there was no group run. I borrowed my son's IPod (which is about 23 versions newer than mine, oh, and he knows how to put songs on it unlike me), and started out on my last Sunday run before the race. When I got to the turn around point I decided I would go out for an extra half mile, for 7 total. And when I got to that mile marker I decided to go out for one more half, for 8 total. It felt good. It was cold, but my legs warmed up about 1.5 miles into the run. The bonus was that I was incapable of changing songs on his IPod, and thus was forced to listen to an entire "Hollywood Undead" album, which was not nearly as bad as I expected it to be when I spent 5 minutes trying to run and simultaneously figure out how to skip songs.
And then I was done. This week will consist of a couple of very short runs, no cross training, and a lot of carbs (yeah) and Gatorade. 4 days 10 hours 7 minutes and 15 seconds.
Before I even recap the last, wow, almost month now - I must begin by addressing the fact that the race is four days away. 4 days, 11 hours, 8 minutes and five seconds to be exact, but who's counting? I am somewhere between anxious and confident, probably more anxious. People keep asking me if I am ready, and I tell them the truth, I have no idea. They think I am being coy or modest (clearly not people that know me), but the reality is that I really have no idea.
20 Miles
I did finally conquer the 20 mile run. Caroline and I went out the week after the miserable 18 miles. We started at 5:30 in the morning at mile marker 27.5 (by the Carolina Bros.) and were going out 10 west and back. I did everything right the week leading up to the run, and was almost looking forward to it, until the alarm went off at 5:10 in the morning. It was cold, not raining but enough moisture in the air to make the cold seem colder, yet what was most startling was how dark it was. By the time we were a half mile in there was absolutely no light coming from anywhere, even the moon and stars were covered by the clouds. The only motions, the only sounds, came from us. Caroline's husband set up a water stop for us at mile 7 (so also mile 13), which was so nice - he brought us Gatorade, pretzels, sport beans - definitely a welcome stop. We were making really good time, and I knew from the point that we hit mile 8 that I was good for the 20. Miles 8 through 10 was one gradual yet grueling hill past Leesburg toward Purcellville, Caroline warned me. At first I thought, no big deal, but seriously after like a mile of never ending hill it gets a little obnoxious. Funny enough, when we turned around and ran back down that hill it felt flat. At about mile 16 we started working in walking intervals, but I felt that I didn't need to, which is good. We finished in 4 hours and 7 minutes (I think).
Iwo Jima
The last Team in Training group run was at the Iwo Jima memorial in Arlington, which is basically where the marathon starts and stops. We ran 8 miles, the last four of which are the same as the last four of the marathon. Caroline was not there, so I ran it alone, and probably started too quickly. Still though, it was a comfortable run. The course ran next to Arlington National Cemetery and then along the Potomac River with the DC landscape across the water. I hope that I am able to relax and enjoy the run on race day like I was able to do during this training run. Oh, and my big lesson on this day, I would rather pee in front of everyone or on myself or on myself in front of everyone, before I ever use a porta-potty in Gravelly Point Park again. I think I am going to puke in my mouth from thinking about it. Dry heave pause. Seriously.
Final Run
Last Sunday was my final training run. It was supposed to be 6 miles, on our own, there was no group run. I borrowed my son's IPod (which is about 23 versions newer than mine, oh, and he knows how to put songs on it unlike me), and started out on my last Sunday run before the race. When I got to the turn around point I decided I would go out for an extra half mile, for 7 total. And when I got to that mile marker I decided to go out for one more half, for 8 total. It felt good. It was cold, but my legs warmed up about 1.5 miles into the run. The bonus was that I was incapable of changing songs on his IPod, and thus was forced to listen to an entire "Hollywood Undead" album, which was not nearly as bad as I expected it to be when I spent 5 minutes trying to run and simultaneously figure out how to skip songs.
And then I was done. This week will consist of a couple of very short runs, no cross training, and a lot of carbs (yeah) and Gatorade. 4 days 10 hours 7 minutes and 15 seconds.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Not a Stick
So, on Monday I knew I needed to run again after my pathetic attempt on Saturday's long run. I went out on the W&OD after work, around 4:45pm, for a 5-mile run through my preferred short course.
Running this route is as familiar to me now as driving through the streets of the neighborhood I grew up in, I think I could do either with my eyes closed. I get on at mile marker 27.5 and run west. The first mile is flat and open to the sun for about 3/4 of a mile, then up a hill. At the start of the second mile I cross over the bridge, then down the hill, and into a flat segment shaded by the tree canopy. It is quiet until the end of the second mile when the trail crosses over a busy road crowded with drivers who beep their horn at cars that stop to allow runners and cyclists to cross. The third mile is my favorite. It starts just past the busy road with the hurried drivers, and it becomes quiet and peaceful. There are no houses or roads through this stretch, and the only sounds are those of birds and bicycles. Through the woods, mostly open to the sun with patches of shade, past the cow pasture and the rock quarry, over the bridge, between the black fences, and over a second bridge if running six miles instead of five. Not only have I memorized the precise location of every mile marker post and slightest shift in elevation, I have also memorized every detail of the horse trails that run parallel to the paved trail.
On Monday, I decided to run the horse trails. It had been raining and cloudy all day long as I looked out of my classroom window, but by the time I went out to run it was sunny and cool, with the first hints of fall in the air. It was a really nice run. It didn't feel like work at all, I was keeping a good pace, breathing easy, and actually enjoying the sounds of my shoes as they crunched into the micro-gravel with each step. The horse trails are more hilly, more shaded, and a more intimate run as you are usually completely alone with a tree and brush barrier separating you from the parallel paved trail. I turned around 2.5 miles out and headed back.
About 1.5 miles into the return run I saw a stick in the middle of the trail. Uh, and then it moved. It was not a stick. Clearly it was a snake. Many years ago I liked to think of myself as someone that would react quickly and decisively in high-stress situations, but I have proven on at least two prior occasions that my actual reaction is to freeze. I can't speak. I can't move. I can't do anything. Everything slows down, except my mind which is racing, yet completely unresponsive. The stupid snake is slithering around in the middle of the trail. I am staring at it, frozen. I don't move forward, don't move backward. I am completely paralyzed , or so I thought. Apparently all bodily functions are not frozen, the bladder for instance. Yeah, as the snake slithered around on the trial, I had peed in my pants. Not a drop or two. I literally pissed my pants.
So now I am standing in the middle of the trail, with wet shorts and socks, unable to get to the paved trail without crossing through the snake-infested brush, and afraid to go forward less it be a trap set up by the little slithering evil beast waiting for me to run by so it can attack my ankles. At long last I realized that I was not going to get home unless I finished the run, so I ran out the last mile, still on the horse trail, praying the whole way that no one would be running behind me. Then I drove home in a sports bra because I was sitting on my shirt.
Running this route is as familiar to me now as driving through the streets of the neighborhood I grew up in, I think I could do either with my eyes closed. I get on at mile marker 27.5 and run west. The first mile is flat and open to the sun for about 3/4 of a mile, then up a hill. At the start of the second mile I cross over the bridge, then down the hill, and into a flat segment shaded by the tree canopy. It is quiet until the end of the second mile when the trail crosses over a busy road crowded with drivers who beep their horn at cars that stop to allow runners and cyclists to cross. The third mile is my favorite. It starts just past the busy road with the hurried drivers, and it becomes quiet and peaceful. There are no houses or roads through this stretch, and the only sounds are those of birds and bicycles. Through the woods, mostly open to the sun with patches of shade, past the cow pasture and the rock quarry, over the bridge, between the black fences, and over a second bridge if running six miles instead of five. Not only have I memorized the precise location of every mile marker post and slightest shift in elevation, I have also memorized every detail of the horse trails that run parallel to the paved trail.
On Monday, I decided to run the horse trails. It had been raining and cloudy all day long as I looked out of my classroom window, but by the time I went out to run it was sunny and cool, with the first hints of fall in the air. It was a really nice run. It didn't feel like work at all, I was keeping a good pace, breathing easy, and actually enjoying the sounds of my shoes as they crunched into the micro-gravel with each step. The horse trails are more hilly, more shaded, and a more intimate run as you are usually completely alone with a tree and brush barrier separating you from the parallel paved trail. I turned around 2.5 miles out and headed back.
About 1.5 miles into the return run I saw a stick in the middle of the trail. Uh, and then it moved. It was not a stick. Clearly it was a snake. Many years ago I liked to think of myself as someone that would react quickly and decisively in high-stress situations, but I have proven on at least two prior occasions that my actual reaction is to freeze. I can't speak. I can't move. I can't do anything. Everything slows down, except my mind which is racing, yet completely unresponsive. The stupid snake is slithering around in the middle of the trail. I am staring at it, frozen. I don't move forward, don't move backward. I am completely paralyzed , or so I thought. Apparently all bodily functions are not frozen, the bladder for instance. Yeah, as the snake slithered around on the trial, I had peed in my pants. Not a drop or two. I literally pissed my pants.
So now I am standing in the middle of the trail, with wet shorts and socks, unable to get to the paved trail without crossing through the snake-infested brush, and afraid to go forward less it be a trap set up by the little slithering evil beast waiting for me to run by so it can attack my ankles. At long last I realized that I was not going to get home unless I finished the run, so I ran out the last mile, still on the horse trail, praying the whole way that no one would be running behind me. Then I drove home in a sports bra because I was sitting on my shirt.
Crunch Time
Monday - nothing
Tuesday - Team in Training Fundraiser at the Dock restaurant, a little wine, a lot of fun, a long night, a successful fundraiser, but no running
Wednesday - nothing
Thursday - Ran 6 miles with my trainer/friend (moving more into the friend than trainer realm at this point, but both terms are still being used loosely), then did my Core Strength Training class at the gym
Friday - nothing, and ate a greasy bacon cheeseburger from Five Guys for dinner (clearly did not learn my lesson the first time I made this mistake...remember - faster, not smarter...)
Saturday -
This was "The Day" as far as training for the marathon goes. Our Team in Training group run was scheduled for 20 miles, and is intended to serve as a mock marathon for the real deal which is less than a month away. This was the longest run scheduled before the race, to be followed by a month of tapering down and allowing the muscles to repair before the big event. I am somewhat self-aware at this point, and did realize it was way too far to run on my own, so I decided to take part in the whole National Capital Area Team in Training group run. Making this decision easier was the fact that I knew my mentor was going to be there, which is always a huge help to me, and the run was scheduled for Reston (so not preceded or proceeded by another type of marathon around the beltway.)
I arrived at the training site by the W&OD in Reston (by mile marker 17) and there were at least 100 other TNT runners from Virginia, Maryland, and D.C. already there. The plan was to run west for 5 miles (to mile marker 22), turn around, run 5 miles back to the starting point, pass the starting point, run another 5 miles east (to mile marker 12), turn around, then back to the starting point, for a total of 20 miles.
The first 5 miles felt great. I was running with Caroline (my mentor) and we were aiming for a 11.5 minute mile pace, but I have picked up speed over the past month or so (I don't know how) and kept falling into what I now believe is my natural pace of 10.5 minute miles. We actually had to keep making a conscious effort to slow down. By the time we reached mile 8 I had to pee. I should mention now that I was also on my period and had an extremely upset stomach from the aforementioned bacon cheeseburger. I saw a 7-11 just a bit off of the trail, told Caroline to keep going, and ran over to the 7-11 to use their restroom facilities. The person working there refused to let me use it. Great. Now I needed to pee, change my tampon, had an upset stomach, and Caroline was way ahead of me at this point. Then someone told me that there was a community center up ahead about a mile. I ran to that. I couldn't find the bathroom. I ran back to the trail and kept going. Internally, everything between my rib cage and thighs was in a serious state of turmoil at this point. Finally I made it back to the starting point (so 10 miles into the run) where Caroline was waiting for me, and she informed me that I hadn't even lost much time despite all of my legs off of the trail in search of a toilet. We kept going.
Apparently I missed the next opportunity for a restroom at a McDonald's just past the starting point. Awesome. We kept going. Finally, around mile 12, there was a water stop and a port-a-potty. Even better. I tried to take care of all the issues affecting my stomach, but was not all that successful. I won't go into the details. We kept going, for about another mile, then we stopped to walk. And that was all she wrote. Once we started walking my legs cramped in a way that I did not know was possible. The run was over. We went out to mile marker 13 (so stopping a mile short) and turned around. We walked all the way back, except for the last quarter of a mile, which we hobble/jogged, simply to save face. In total, I made it 18 miles, only the first 13 of which were running. So, another miserable failure.
I cried and sulked around for the rest of the weekend. I felt guilty for eating any morsel of food that entered my mouth, even salad. This run should have resulted in the confidence needed to make it through the race. Instead I am now questioning whether or not I will beat the bus across the bridge, if I can make it past mile 16 or 20 or 25, if I will even survive the endeavor, and honestly why I ever thought I could do this in the first place.
In the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, "You must do the thing you think you cannot do." I am going to re-attempt the 20 miles this coming weekend.
Tuesday - Team in Training Fundraiser at the Dock restaurant, a little wine, a lot of fun, a long night, a successful fundraiser, but no running
Wednesday - nothing
Thursday - Ran 6 miles with my trainer/friend (moving more into the friend than trainer realm at this point, but both terms are still being used loosely), then did my Core Strength Training class at the gym
Friday - nothing, and ate a greasy bacon cheeseburger from Five Guys for dinner (clearly did not learn my lesson the first time I made this mistake...remember - faster, not smarter...)
Saturday -
This was "The Day" as far as training for the marathon goes. Our Team in Training group run was scheduled for 20 miles, and is intended to serve as a mock marathon for the real deal which is less than a month away. This was the longest run scheduled before the race, to be followed by a month of tapering down and allowing the muscles to repair before the big event. I am somewhat self-aware at this point, and did realize it was way too far to run on my own, so I decided to take part in the whole National Capital Area Team in Training group run. Making this decision easier was the fact that I knew my mentor was going to be there, which is always a huge help to me, and the run was scheduled for Reston (so not preceded or proceeded by another type of marathon around the beltway.)
I arrived at the training site by the W&OD in Reston (by mile marker 17) and there were at least 100 other TNT runners from Virginia, Maryland, and D.C. already there. The plan was to run west for 5 miles (to mile marker 22), turn around, run 5 miles back to the starting point, pass the starting point, run another 5 miles east (to mile marker 12), turn around, then back to the starting point, for a total of 20 miles.
The first 5 miles felt great. I was running with Caroline (my mentor) and we were aiming for a 11.5 minute mile pace, but I have picked up speed over the past month or so (I don't know how) and kept falling into what I now believe is my natural pace of 10.5 minute miles. We actually had to keep making a conscious effort to slow down. By the time we reached mile 8 I had to pee. I should mention now that I was also on my period and had an extremely upset stomach from the aforementioned bacon cheeseburger. I saw a 7-11 just a bit off of the trail, told Caroline to keep going, and ran over to the 7-11 to use their restroom facilities. The person working there refused to let me use it. Great. Now I needed to pee, change my tampon, had an upset stomach, and Caroline was way ahead of me at this point. Then someone told me that there was a community center up ahead about a mile. I ran to that. I couldn't find the bathroom. I ran back to the trail and kept going. Internally, everything between my rib cage and thighs was in a serious state of turmoil at this point. Finally I made it back to the starting point (so 10 miles into the run) where Caroline was waiting for me, and she informed me that I hadn't even lost much time despite all of my legs off of the trail in search of a toilet. We kept going.
Apparently I missed the next opportunity for a restroom at a McDonald's just past the starting point. Awesome. We kept going. Finally, around mile 12, there was a water stop and a port-a-potty. Even better. I tried to take care of all the issues affecting my stomach, but was not all that successful. I won't go into the details. We kept going, for about another mile, then we stopped to walk. And that was all she wrote. Once we started walking my legs cramped in a way that I did not know was possible. The run was over. We went out to mile marker 13 (so stopping a mile short) and turned around. We walked all the way back, except for the last quarter of a mile, which we hobble/jogged, simply to save face. In total, I made it 18 miles, only the first 13 of which were running. So, another miserable failure.
I cried and sulked around for the rest of the weekend. I felt guilty for eating any morsel of food that entered my mouth, even salad. This run should have resulted in the confidence needed to make it through the race. Instead I am now questioning whether or not I will beat the bus across the bridge, if I can make it past mile 16 or 20 or 25, if I will even survive the endeavor, and honestly why I ever thought I could do this in the first place.
In the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, "You must do the thing you think you cannot do." I am going to re-attempt the 20 miles this coming weekend.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Faster, but Not Smarter
The past week has been terrible as far as training has gone...
Monday - Back to School Night at my school, no training
Tuesday - Ran with the Cross Country Team at my school, 7 miles in 1 hour and 4 minutes, amazing!
Wednesday - Meeting at the Dock for Team in Training Fundraiser, no training, but a really great dinner
Thursday - Ran 1 lap around the lake, Core Strength Training Class at the gym
Friday- - No excuse, no drinking, no late night, but also no training
Saturday (today) - This week's distance run was scheduled for 12 miles. It was supposed to be an easy week in between hard weeks (18 last week - in theory, 12 this week, 20 next week). I thought about making up the 18 this week, but then figured that next week's 20 would be miserable. Ariana had soccer practice and team pictures today, so running with Team in Training would have made it impossible to take her. I decided to run it on my own instead.
I got on the trail in my regular location, at mile marker 27.5 by the Carolina Bros. BBQ in Ashburn. I headed west to the outskirts of Leesburg for 6 miles then back for the second 6. The weather was beautiful, sunny, cool but not at all cold, and I ran on the horse trail which runs parallel to the running/cycling trail almost the entire time (which means I actually ran more than 12 miles, and ran a more hilly terrain). I finished in 2 hours and 7 minutes.
When I got back to my car I realized that I had locked my keys inside, again. This is the second time I have done this, at the trail alone. My analysis of today's run is that apparently I have gotten significantly faster, but unfortunately not any smarter.
Monday - Back to School Night at my school, no training
Tuesday - Ran with the Cross Country Team at my school, 7 miles in 1 hour and 4 minutes, amazing!
Wednesday - Meeting at the Dock for Team in Training Fundraiser, no training, but a really great dinner
Thursday - Ran 1 lap around the lake, Core Strength Training Class at the gym
Friday- - No excuse, no drinking, no late night, but also no training
Saturday (today) - This week's distance run was scheduled for 12 miles. It was supposed to be an easy week in between hard weeks (18 last week - in theory, 12 this week, 20 next week). I thought about making up the 18 this week, but then figured that next week's 20 would be miserable. Ariana had soccer practice and team pictures today, so running with Team in Training would have made it impossible to take her. I decided to run it on my own instead.
I got on the trail in my regular location, at mile marker 27.5 by the Carolina Bros. BBQ in Ashburn. I headed west to the outskirts of Leesburg for 6 miles then back for the second 6. The weather was beautiful, sunny, cool but not at all cold, and I ran on the horse trail which runs parallel to the running/cycling trail almost the entire time (which means I actually ran more than 12 miles, and ran a more hilly terrain). I finished in 2 hours and 7 minutes.
When I got back to my car I realized that I had locked my keys inside, again. This is the second time I have done this, at the trail alone. My analysis of today's run is that apparently I have gotten significantly faster, but unfortunately not any smarter.
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