Mind over Matter

My training plan for this week is as follows:

Sunday - off
Monday- 40 minute run
Tuesday (today)- 50 minute run
Wednesday - 40 minute run (hills)
Thursday - 55 minute core strength class at my gym
Friday- off
Saturday- 6 mile run (it will be the 4th of July, so it is on-my-own instead of with the group)

Yesterday's 40 minute run felt great, despite all of my whining during the run (my friend incorporated what he called "ever-so-slight inclines" and I would describe as mini-mountains.)Surprisingly I am still looking forward to this afternoon's run. It has been really hot lately and we are usually running sometime between 4 and 6pm, so it is often in the 80's and 90's when we are out there. I have started to become mindful of hydration throughout the course of the day to prepare.

Some other things I have learned since jumping on this self-propelled roller coaster...

If you are a male reader, skip to #2.

1. In the battle of pad vs. tampon, the tampon wins. Running in a pad causes serious chafing of the upper inner thighs. If you are a male and are still reading, you can't say I didn't warn you. For some reason I thought that a pad would be better because what if the tampon slipped out from the jarring effect of the constant steps? That would be embarrassing. Also, probably impossible. I don't really know what I was thinking. Tampon it is. Another lesson learned the hard way.

2. Cotton is bad. Who knew? Running in cotton is like a death sentence. It traps in all the heat and sticks to your body, not allowing your skin to breathe. It holds moisture in instead of letting it out or drying at any point. Whatever that dry-fit or synthetic breathable material costs is more than worth it, and as an added bonus, you don't smell quite as bad when you're done running.

3. Your can actually be injured by your own sweat. Really! Yeah, it turns into what feels like sea salt on your skin. I went to rub sweat out of my eye and scratched the hell out of my face. I think it must dry on you and then it gets coarse, then it cuts you. I have changed my methodology in this area to a blotting approach.

4. Running really is the most apt metaphor for life, as trite as it may sound.

• One step at a time. It is impossible to take five steps or even two at once. You cannot fast-forward - no matter how badly you would like to, regardless of how strong of a runner you are or aren't, you have to pound out every single step.
• Balance. While you have to be mindful of the long-term goal (26.2 miles), you have to operate in the short-term. You cannot think about the fact that you have 22 miles to go when you are only on mile 4, if you did you would convince yourself it was impossible and would quit. However, you do have to run mile 4 at a pace that will allow your body to endure for another 22 miles.
• Mind over Matter. I have heard football players say this before, "If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." Easier said than done, but also irrefutably true. Distance running is absolutely a triumph of the mind over the body. You can train your body to go the distance, but training the mind to believe that you can go the distance is the hard part.

The First Mile Always Sucks

After signing on with Team in Training I spent the next several weeks running with a friend, the former ever-so-slight crush, in a feeble attempt to not look like a complete fat ass when I got out there for the first official training run. This time around I sacrificed pride and worked in regular walking intervals. By the date of the pace run I was up to 2.5 miles of consecutive running and around 5 total miles per time out, and we were running about 3 times per week on average. I honestly believe that my friend could maintain a brisk walk and keep up with my running pace.


Pace Run - June 13, 2009

My first major accomplishment on this early Saturday morning was successfully locating the high school in Alexandria where my first official Team in Training run was to take place. We spent an hour or so listening to experts talk to us about the right shoes, running injuries, stretching, gear, hydration, and so on. Then we were introduced to the coaches and the mentors, one of which told us that "the first mile always sucks." I hate to correct anyone, but excuse me, every f-ing mile sucks. Are you kidding me? Just the first mile? No.

Next we were herded off to the track to begin our pace run. Yes, the track. Anyone who has ever run more than a mile knows just how much this sucks. Our pace run was set for 3 miles or 30 minutes. I think someone was assuming a 10 minute mile. Ha. Haha. Right. Anyway, running around a track for 3 miles means running in the same endless circle for 12 laps. It means passing the finish line 11 times before you get to actually stop. It is 24 curves, 24 straight-aways. And, in my case, it means the same show-offs passing you 3 times. It is painful monotony, even if you are running on some state of the art rubbery surface. My time was 38 minutes and 51 seconds. For the mathematically challenged, this is not a ten minute mile. Not even close.

What I learned: 1. I am not a very good runner. 2. On one of my laps the coach told me to rest my thumbs slightly on my index fingers pointing the direction I am running. Amazing. It makes for a more efficient motion, forces the upper body to help too. I periodically check for this every time I run now.

Week One Training Run - June 20, 2009

In the week between the pace run and the first official training session group run the coaches sent out an email suggesting that we eliminate one unhealthy habit and replace it with a healthy one. For me, the habits were obvious....I needed to give up the (at least) 6 cans of coke I was drinking every day and start drinking some water instead. I did not give up coke entirely, I told you, I am not really crazy. I am however down to about 1 per day and have significantly increased the amount of water I am drinking.

So, again, early on a Saturday morning I managed to find the location - in Reston this time. We were scheduled to run 4 miles on the W&OD, 2 out and 2 back. Just as we finished our group stretching and warm-up lap around the parking lot it started to rain. I admit to feeling at least a little pleased that I was going to get to go back home and crawl back into my nice warm bed. Then I heard someone say, "If it ain't raining, it ain't training." Great. Apparently you run in the rain.

Lacking my usual running partner, I lazily completed the 4 miles in about 46 minutes. I say completed because instead of doing that whole heel-to-toe thing I was clomping. I think I was trying to avoid slipping on the slick pavement, and you can't hear your footsteps when it is raining, but I paid dearly for this error in form. Your kneecaps do not like clomping. It causes that lower leg bone, whatever it is called, to slam into the kneecap with every step, over and over again. I walked like I had osteoporosis for the next 2 days.

What I Learned: 1. You do run in the rain. 2. Heel-to-toe, all the time. 3. Hip-to-Nip. The same coach that gave me the thumb advice told us about arm swing...hip-to-nip...I'll let you figure it out. Also an extremely helpful tip.

Week Three Training Session - June 27, 2009

This time the training run was in D.C., down by the waterfront into Georgetown a little bit and back, 5 miles. I carpooled with my mentor because I am severely directionally challenged and was afraid that compounded with the early hour I would be late and miss the run. Instead of it just being all of the Northern Virginia TNT runners it was the entire metro area (so add DC and Maryland). There were literally hundreds of runners. I joined the 11.5 minute mile group which included my mentor and stayed in pace with her the whole way. For the first time I ran the entire distance, no walking, and 5 miles was my farthest run yet! And, I got my time down, 57 minutes.

What I Learned: Not only does the first mile suck, the first five miles suck.

Getting Serious

For the Easter holiday in the Spring of 2009 I went to visit my grandparents in Pennsylvania, along with my mother and my kids. As I was changing clothes one morning my mother walked in, looked me up and down as I was nearly or completely nude, and at length commented "Well, you finally have a figure." As she said this, she simultaneously illustrated her point with some hand motion which distinctly went outward at what I must assume was supposed to represent my depression stage ass.

I was back in the gym the day after we returned.

A friend from work, a runner (with whom I indiscriminately shared my black toe story) suggested that I go to a specialty running store to get the right shoes. OK, first of all, who the hell knew that there were specialty stores for running? Obviously, as we all now know, not me. However, I was willing to do anything to avoid another 5 pedicureless months, and I went to the store. Potomac River Running. They are awesome. As I sit here sore as hell today, the only damn thing that doesn't hurt is my feet. They measure your feet, they analyze how you walk and how you run using a treadmill and some special video camera set up, they have you stand on this thing to see how your weight settles on your feet. They do it all over again with various shoes selected for your feet. Then they find you the perfect pair of shoes. I am forever in their debt. No, I do not own stock in their store, don't get discounts, and do not even know anyone that works there. I don't know anything, actually, which you may have concluded by now.

This same friend knew I wanted to run the marathon, which she had completed previously, and told me about this group she runs with, Team in Training. TNT (no, not TIT, fortunately) is a fundraising organization for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS). Basically, they train you to complete an endurance event, and you fund raise a minimum amount of money for them to provide services to patients suffering from leukemia or lymphoma (many of which are children). For me this provides an opportunity of the best nature - I get support to accomplish a major life goal, and at the same time will contribute to the assistance of people suffering from these blood cancers.

After I got my fundraising website up (which TNT basically does for you) my first donation came in, $500 from the same friend's parents, her dad is a survivor. They donate to the LLS every year, usually through their daughter's races, but my friend is not running in a fall event and so they donated to me instead. My fundraising minimum is $1800, but it would be great to exceed that amount. To date I am halfway there.

Now that all the pieces were in place it was time to get serious. Unfortunately, I could not even make it around the lake once without having to stop and walk...the lake is only 1.25 miles...the race is 26.2 miles.

Dumb, Dumb, Dumb

This journey began just after my 29th birthday, and as I do with most challenges in life, I jumped right in - I went from doing an hour in the gym a few times a week to running 3.75 miles my first time out. In an old pair of cross training shoes. With a guy that I may have had a slight crush on at the time. For anyone reading this that has not run before, none of this is good.

I knew within the first quarter of a mile that something was wrong. With each step my toes were slamming into the front of the shoe. It hurt. Did I stop? No, because I am not a quitter. More relevant, I allowed pride to trump pain, and did not want to appear weak in front of the above referenced crush. So, I continued on and completed three laps around the lake.

When I got home, my feet hurt so bad that I thought when I removed my sub-par shoes that there would be massive amounts of blood and considered the possibility that my toes would come off with my socks. By the next day when I called my mom to whine, my toes had turned black under the nails. My Army captain mom told me that I would need to lance the toenail in order to save it. Did I listen? No, because I am 29 and still choose to learn things the hard way. More relevant, I avoid pain at all costs.

I stopped running, entered the depression stage of grief, and three months later my toenails fell off. Clearly this only served to compound my depression. To my lady readers, this sucks. Let me translate...no pedicures and no open-toe shoes for another 5 months until the toenails grow back. Then, pedicure with about a 100% tip.

At this point I realized that I was 4 months out from the marathon. I learned three crucial lessons from the missing toenail saga...

1. My initial approach was dumb, dumb, dumb.
2. I needed new shoes.
3. I needed training support.

Turning 30

On October 27, 2008 I turned 29 years old, and it became painfully apparent to me that I was going to turn 30 on my next birthday. I think I went through the usual stages of grief ...



Denial - "There is no f-ing way I am going to turn 30. I'm only 29 now. Still in my 20's, albeit my late 20's. I don't look 30. Everyone thinks I am in my early 20's. It is a whole year away. I am still in the same demographic as 26 year olds. This will not really happen, not to me, maybe to everyone else I graduated with, but not me. I still get carded dammit!"



Anger - "F- you. Who says I have to turn 30? Make me. You can't."



Bargaining - I spent days online researching various paths of travel that would allow me to skip an entire day, obviously October 27, 2009, and thus would not actually turn 30 since the day never actually existed for me. This is an ongoing effort to prevent this approaching catastrophe!



Depression - (after a post-shower full mirror exam) "Holy Shit. I am 29 and have the thighs of a 30 year old, ass too. I might as well eat a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. What do I have to lose?" (answer after spending 8 months in this stage: 20 pounds).



Acceptance - Please refer back to the anger stage and repeat.



As I am going through these stages, I am also engaging in another process, reflection. I realized that I have not accomplished all that I thought I would by the time I turned 30. I never went to law school, have not seen every continent, have not appeared on Oprah, and am far from becoming a millionaire.



So, I made a decision. Which also brings us to the point of this blog. I decided that even if I must turn 30 (which is still debatable, see the bargaining stage) that I reject, I do not accept, the notion of what turning 30 so often means in our society. I decided that I would do something.



And now for the crazy part... the doing part...I decided I would run the 2009 Marine Corps Marathon which will take place two days before my 30th birthday. Yes, that is 26.2 miles. Yes, I am probably crazy. No, I am not 30...yet.