Well, I can walk and sit down unassisted again, and in general you shouldn't make any decisions before you can walk or sit down.
I immediately started to research marathons in the fall. Presque Isle sold out, which was annoying. Then I found a few other ones through friends--one geared towards a BQ in Illinois; one in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. They were in late-August or early-September, because if I wanted to do this and register in time, then I'd need to do it then. Which means I'd need to take a quick 4 week recovery, if possible, and then throw myself back into it.
I've been focused on marathons for about year now--right after the attacks last year was when I set my sights on it.
I'm tired.
I don't really want to do another marathon this soon. I do but I don't. I do because I am pissed off. I don't because it's not a good decision for me or for my family.
Doing a marathon because you're pissed isn't a good enough reason to do it. Then I'll be running angry all summer. That's not a good way to spend a summer.
My original plan was to qualify and then get back to triathlons, which I love. I put Rev3 Cedar Point on hold last year so I could qualify in Columbus. When I missed it by a minute there, I threw myself back into training to do it in the spring. And I tried--twice.
I learned a few things:
1. I have work to do still.
2. It needs to NOT be hot. That is really, really important for me.
3. Training during the Polar Vortex Winter, even with good friends, was a bit soul-crushing. Spring marathons are a no-go.
4. Training through summer is much easier on my life, both personally and professionally.
So if I don't try this fall, that means next fall. And I didn't want to wait a year and a half to try again, but that's what's going to have to happen. Because see Exhibit A on "running angry." Just not a good reason, or a good idea.
I think I can not only run a 3:40, but run solidly below 3:40. But I need to think about what's best for my family and for me.
My plan has always been to do Rev3 Cedar Point and crush my best 70.3 time, which I did 6 months after Emery was born. Last year I put it on hold. The other thing is that my buddy Andy is also going to do it. And Jackson and his little guy are BFFs from Kindergarten--we talked about our two families going in on a condo, making it a fun family weekend, etc. I can train all summer, with friends. It's not *just* running, which has taken a toll on me and beat me up over the past year. I can enjoy early morning swims in the lake, long rides in the summer with friends, and not feel as much pressure to GET IT DONE HURRY UP QUALIFY OR LIFE ENDS which is how I've felt lately, and which is just silly.
Maybe my friends will qualify again and go with me later. Or not, and I go out there alone. Either way, I'll get there.
So the plan will be:
Racing for Hope 5K: June 28th. I'll be EXTREMELY tired and jet-lagged after a super fun opportunity I'm going to do, but it will be a fun time.
July 14th: Summer Triathlon in Lorain--Possible sprint tri, or I may volunteer to get me a free entry to the next one below...
Huntington Sprint Tri July 27th: Again, I'll be EXTREMELY tired and jet-lagged, but it will be fun. I'm heading to Stanford University from the 20th-26th for a pretty cool opportunity that I got, and will be really really exhausted, but oh well! It's fun.
Vermilion Harbor Triathlon: Olympic Distance, August 17th. Use it as a nice tune-up for Rev3
Rev3 70.3 Triathlon: September 7th. Also the day my brother and sister-in-law are due, so we'll be close enough to hop in the car and get to the hospital to hold my new niece or nephew :)
November 23rd: Fall Classic Half Marathon. I think it's about time I obliterate my current PR of 1:47 in the half, considering I just did that and then kept going at that pace for 7 more miles. Coach thinks I could break 1:40. That would be fun to try for.
Then, reassess. Figure out if I have changed my mind on the spring marathon, but I don't think so. Then think Fall 2015 for another shot at a full.
You know what? Typing all that makes me a LOT happier than typing: "Run a full marathon by September 14th or I am a Worthless Person."
Time to dust off my goggles and CD0.1. It's been way too long since I've spent time with my old friends.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Race Report: Cleveland Marathon, 2014
Well, this isn't how it was supposed to go. Any of it.
I signed up for Athens because Cleveland is usually too hot for me. Then Athens was 80 degrees and turned into a disaster. So I signed up for Cleveland hoping I could somehow connect the dots to get there. The double irony is that the weather in Cleveland was absolutely perfect.
So of course, I'm thinking that if I had just signed up for Cleveland, I would have hit my Boston Qualifying time. Easily.
I was stronger this spring than I ever have been. I hit every single training run and then some.
Everything went wrong, and I'm still pretty crushed. There will be no Boston in 2015; that is now apparent. Believe me, I've researched. Even Presque Isle sold out on freaking May 13th, and when I put my name on the waiting list on May 18th I was already #268.
I was so upset that I even texted Coach and said, "Is this even a realistic goal?" Maybe I'm not meant to do this. I'm honestly not that talented. She replied that I would NEVER say that taking off a few minutes is an unrealistic goal to my own children. That Meredith Kessler DNF'd 3 Ironmans for various reasons and now look at her.
I know, it makes sense. I know I'd never say that to my own kids. Or any of my friends.
It just hurts a lot. For a person like me who this does not come naturally for, I only have 2--maybe 3--shots a year. And I poured so much of my heart and soul and time into this, and came so close, and then this spring everything just went to crap. The winter sucked the life out of me, but I still did it. I got stronger.
And then I was crushed. First at Athens, and now in Cleveland.
The night before the race I found an old picture of me at the finish line of my first Cleveland Marathon in 2003. 35 pounds heavier, standing there with Matt, beaming after my time of 5:14. I was almost last, and I didn't care. I would have rolled my eyes in disgust at Me 2014 who was crying after finishing in 3:54.
3:54. For years, I didn't think I could break 4 hours. This race ended in disaster, and I still finished in 3:54.
Have I become so out of touch with things that I'm one of "those runners" who is upset with a 3:54? And more importantly, how can I stop?
I think it's time to back away for a bit. Boston 2015 is probably not happening. It's not, and I hate to say it and type it but it's the truth. I'm looking at my running shoes with the same animosity that I looked at my Trek after Ironman Wisconsin. GET IT AWAY FROM ME.
When this stops being fun, it's time to back away.
My plan was to hang onto the 3:35 pace group for dear life. I figured if I could still squeak in around 3:37-38, I'd be okay. I lined up with my friend and training partner Amanda (who is super young so she needed a 3:35) and we started. The first two miles were either really slow or the mile markers were off. Then the next few miles we were sub-8, according to my Garmin. It's so hard to tell at these things. The pacers said the mile markers were off, so I trusted them, but my splits were all over the place. The half split was good, though, so it worked out somehow. We made our way out of town and hit the half in 1:47.02, which is now a new official PR for me of 8 seconds.
Hey, at least one thing went right.
We entered Rocky River--where I teach--and I still get emotional thinking about all the support I had there. It was pretty unreal. My parents, Matt and the kids, and a whole bunch of people had lined the streets and were cheering at my friend Tracy's house, which we ran directly by. I was still feeling pretty good so I gave them a big wave and smile.
Then I ran another 100 yards and saw this:
I looked at it, pointed, and yelled, "Hey! That's me!" to the people standing on the lawn. They all started cheering, and a woman yelled, "Pablo made it for you!" and I realized that it was one of my APUSH students. Turns out he was in the house when I ran by, but it seriously made me tear up seeing the big sign. Here I am running in Rocky River, photos courtesy of Pablo's mom:
I saw my awesome brother, who got ALL the running talent in my family. He was out there in two different spots, and it moved me to tears. I didn't know he'd be out there. I thought of the times I went to his Cross Country meets to cheer him on and how fast and talented he is despite him feeling "slow" next to his eventual-D1 college-running friends. Maybe some of that talent will show up in me today? Having him there gave me a little hope.
Then we turned around. And I saw about 10 million more friends at Mile 16, including my training partner Katie, who already punched her ticket to Boston last fall. I still felt good. I thought, this is the day. This is the day I do this. I headed back through downtown Rocky River and my friend Pat snapped this picture--I'm making a horrible face with the sun, but I still felt pretty good at this point. It was almost mile 18.
I kept with the pacer over the bridge and turned into Lakewood.
And then something happened.
My right calf seized up. Like, a pregnancy leg cramp gone wild, for those who know what I mean. If you don't know what I mean, basically, my right calf knotted up and scared the crap out of me and made me double over and go "AGGGGGHHH!" People around me gasped. "Are you okay?" people said. I shook my head yes, tried to stretch it, and kept going. The pacer surged ahead, but I thought no biggie--I'll just keep him a little ahead of me and I'll be fine. I hit mile 19.
Then the other calf did it.
I stopped at the aid station, grabbed 3 powerades, chugged, and quickly stretched my calf. And swore. Willed it to stop. Kept going.
I hit the 30K mark right on time. Average pace, 8:10/mile. This was the fastest and farthest I'd ever gone.
And then All The Muscles cramped. Both legs, seizing up. Toes curling. I had to run flat-footed, but was still holding an 8:30 pace. No. This is not happening.
I saw my awesome friends, Tom and Casey and Len and Kelly. Len gave me a water bottle, and I chugged it. I took my last gu. I said a little prayer. Please. Please, not with a 10K to go. Come on body. Move.
Mile 20.
I surged again. The pacer was gone, but I was still hoping I could do it.
PAIN.
Surge.
PAIN.
It was awful. I was doubling over, and spectators were looking at me with pity. I did everything I could to keep moving, but I was now falling way off pace and into the 9s.
Around 22, the 3:40 pacer caught me. Amanda was there. She had has some trouble back at 17 but caught him and held on. He was amazing and did everything he could to keep me moving. I was stifling screams at this point and trying so hard to run. I saw my friends Kim and Tim and they yelled some encouragement. It was mile 23.
And then, one more stabbing pain, and I screamed. And stopped.
And they ran away.
And that was it. It was over, and I knew it. And I looked at the pavement tears welling up, too much pain to even get an f-bomb out.
I was crushed. But I had to somehow get downtown. I stared at the shoreway in front of me and knew I had to get there, but at this point, I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to jump in the lake and swim the way home. The emotional hurt was almost as much as the physical, and the physical hurt was second only to the delivery of my two kids.
Over the past two days, I've been replaying that moment in my head, tormenting myself. Was there any way I could keep going? Amanda finished in 3:38. I could have stuck with her and done it. Couldn't I? Was I just weak?
I don't think so. But I wonder. And it hurts. It hurts almost as much as the hurt I felt staring at a long, empty road, trying to move.
The next two miles were basically a blur of shuffling. I looked something like this:
I somehow miraculously shuffled my way to 13-14 minute miles these two miles. This is how I felt:
It was pretty awful. I was not proud.
I kept thinking the 4 hour group would pass me any second, and was ready to be crushed yet again when that happened. But then I hit mile 25 and looked at my watch and thought, "Are you kidding me?" I was still going to come in--comfortably--under 4 hours.
What?
That gave me at least a little bit of a surge to not look like a total asshat the last mile. I vowed to make it there and smile. This was my 7th marathon (8th if you count IM Wisconsin), and I was still going to come in under 4 hours. There had to be some kind of a silver lining in here somewhere.
The crowds were amazing. I shuffled my zombie walk, and I smiled.
And wow, my finish line pictures are seriously the best I've ever taken. I'm smiling and look strong in every single one, despite feeling so heartbroken and bombing my goal miserably. I guess the worse the finish line photo, the better the performance, right?
I saw my family. I smiled and waved. I almost stopped--I really should have--to hug them. Matt worked so hard to get the kids where they needed to be to cheer me on, to watch me BQ. I felt like I let them down a bit. I know I didn't, but that's what I felt at that moment.
And I smiled and crossed the line. 3:54, my 2nd fastest marathon ever.
And then the tears stung my eyes again.
But before I could descend into a spiral of self-pity, one of my favorite yoga instructors snapped this picture of me and gave me a huge hug and told me how amazing it was that I just finished, so I smiled again:
Amazing that I finished. I wiped the tear away again, and thought, you know what, it kind of is. It's amazing that I finished.
I'm tired of being disappointed with amazing performances, and that's what I feel that this quest has done to me over the past 8-9 months. I went 3:41 in Columbus and 3:54 here, and I was--I am--disappointed. That's wrong. The rational person in me understands that.
Looking at that picture, I look so strong and lean. I almost didn't recognize myself.
Compare that with these two:
Elated. Not lean. Happy.
There has to be some kind of a way to put those two people together.
I'm not exactly sure where I'm going to go from here. I'm not making any decisions until I can walk normally again. I'm overwhelmed with all the love and support that has been thrown my way. Any finish line is amazing and something to be celebrated, and I think I need to somehow get in touch with that. That might mean hanging up this goal for a while. Or not. I'm not sure.
I do know that I am loved and supported, and that despite everything that went wrong, a lot went right. I am still stronger than I ever was--at age 36 with two kids--and stronger than I ever thought I could be. So that's good.
I am sure I'll be replaying the what-ifs and coulda-done-this and shoulda-just-signed-up-for-CLE for a while.
Here's the thing: none of us have crystal balls. I can't predict the future, the weather, or what my legs will do. All I can do is try. On Monday, I told my students (who I could tell were a little disappointed as I told them a second time that I tried and failed to reach a goal I set) that I reach high, but I fall hard. And that's just my personality. I'm not a play-it-safe person with this stuff, and sometimes it works, and other times it doesn't. That is the risk you take, but that's a risk I still believe is worth taking.
My good friend Jo, who I am sad that I will not be attending Boston with, said it much better than I can. For me, trying is the sweet spot. I know I'll try again. I don't know when.
But one of these days the girl who never should make it to Boston will get there.
I signed up for Athens because Cleveland is usually too hot for me. Then Athens was 80 degrees and turned into a disaster. So I signed up for Cleveland hoping I could somehow connect the dots to get there. The double irony is that the weather in Cleveland was absolutely perfect.
So of course, I'm thinking that if I had just signed up for Cleveland, I would have hit my Boston Qualifying time. Easily.
I was stronger this spring than I ever have been. I hit every single training run and then some.
Everything went wrong, and I'm still pretty crushed. There will be no Boston in 2015; that is now apparent. Believe me, I've researched. Even Presque Isle sold out on freaking May 13th, and when I put my name on the waiting list on May 18th I was already #268.
I was so upset that I even texted Coach and said, "Is this even a realistic goal?" Maybe I'm not meant to do this. I'm honestly not that talented. She replied that I would NEVER say that taking off a few minutes is an unrealistic goal to my own children. That Meredith Kessler DNF'd 3 Ironmans for various reasons and now look at her.
I know, it makes sense. I know I'd never say that to my own kids. Or any of my friends.
It just hurts a lot. For a person like me who this does not come naturally for, I only have 2--maybe 3--shots a year. And I poured so much of my heart and soul and time into this, and came so close, and then this spring everything just went to crap. The winter sucked the life out of me, but I still did it. I got stronger.
And then I was crushed. First at Athens, and now in Cleveland.
The night before the race I found an old picture of me at the finish line of my first Cleveland Marathon in 2003. 35 pounds heavier, standing there with Matt, beaming after my time of 5:14. I was almost last, and I didn't care. I would have rolled my eyes in disgust at Me 2014 who was crying after finishing in 3:54.
3:54. For years, I didn't think I could break 4 hours. This race ended in disaster, and I still finished in 3:54.
Have I become so out of touch with things that I'm one of "those runners" who is upset with a 3:54? And more importantly, how can I stop?
I think it's time to back away for a bit. Boston 2015 is probably not happening. It's not, and I hate to say it and type it but it's the truth. I'm looking at my running shoes with the same animosity that I looked at my Trek after Ironman Wisconsin. GET IT AWAY FROM ME.
When this stops being fun, it's time to back away.
My plan was to hang onto the 3:35 pace group for dear life. I figured if I could still squeak in around 3:37-38, I'd be okay. I lined up with my friend and training partner Amanda (who is super young so she needed a 3:35) and we started. The first two miles were either really slow or the mile markers were off. Then the next few miles we were sub-8, according to my Garmin. It's so hard to tell at these things. The pacers said the mile markers were off, so I trusted them, but my splits were all over the place. The half split was good, though, so it worked out somehow. We made our way out of town and hit the half in 1:47.02, which is now a new official PR for me of 8 seconds.
Hey, at least one thing went right.
We entered Rocky River--where I teach--and I still get emotional thinking about all the support I had there. It was pretty unreal. My parents, Matt and the kids, and a whole bunch of people had lined the streets and were cheering at my friend Tracy's house, which we ran directly by. I was still feeling pretty good so I gave them a big wave and smile.
 |
| Tracy and her adorable family had a "watch party" on her front lawn! |
 |
Jackson is behind me, holding what I thought was a cowbell. Later I found out it was a cinnamon bun. That's my boy.    |
I looked at it, pointed, and yelled, "Hey! That's me!" to the people standing on the lawn. They all started cheering, and a woman yelled, "Pablo made it for you!" and I realized that it was one of my APUSH students. Turns out he was in the house when I ran by, but it seriously made me tear up seeing the big sign. Here I am running in Rocky River, photos courtesy of Pablo's mom:
 |
| Right on pace and feeling pretty good |
Then we turned around. And I saw about 10 million more friends at Mile 16, including my training partner Katie, who already punched her ticket to Boston last fall. I still felt good. I thought, this is the day. This is the day I do this. I headed back through downtown Rocky River and my friend Pat snapped this picture--I'm making a horrible face with the sun, but I still felt pretty good at this point. It was almost mile 18.
And then something happened.
My right calf seized up. Like, a pregnancy leg cramp gone wild, for those who know what I mean. If you don't know what I mean, basically, my right calf knotted up and scared the crap out of me and made me double over and go "AGGGGGHHH!" People around me gasped. "Are you okay?" people said. I shook my head yes, tried to stretch it, and kept going. The pacer surged ahead, but I thought no biggie--I'll just keep him a little ahead of me and I'll be fine. I hit mile 19.
Then the other calf did it.
I stopped at the aid station, grabbed 3 powerades, chugged, and quickly stretched my calf. And swore. Willed it to stop. Kept going.
I hit the 30K mark right on time. Average pace, 8:10/mile. This was the fastest and farthest I'd ever gone.
And then All The Muscles cramped. Both legs, seizing up. Toes curling. I had to run flat-footed, but was still holding an 8:30 pace. No. This is not happening.
I saw my awesome friends, Tom and Casey and Len and Kelly. Len gave me a water bottle, and I chugged it. I took my last gu. I said a little prayer. Please. Please, not with a 10K to go. Come on body. Move.
Mile 20.
I surged again. The pacer was gone, but I was still hoping I could do it.
PAIN.
Surge.
PAIN.
It was awful. I was doubling over, and spectators were looking at me with pity. I did everything I could to keep moving, but I was now falling way off pace and into the 9s.
Around 22, the 3:40 pacer caught me. Amanda was there. She had has some trouble back at 17 but caught him and held on. He was amazing and did everything he could to keep me moving. I was stifling screams at this point and trying so hard to run. I saw my friends Kim and Tim and they yelled some encouragement. It was mile 23.
And then, one more stabbing pain, and I screamed. And stopped.
And they ran away.
And that was it. It was over, and I knew it. And I looked at the pavement tears welling up, too much pain to even get an f-bomb out.
I was crushed. But I had to somehow get downtown. I stared at the shoreway in front of me and knew I had to get there, but at this point, I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to jump in the lake and swim the way home. The emotional hurt was almost as much as the physical, and the physical hurt was second only to the delivery of my two kids.
Over the past two days, I've been replaying that moment in my head, tormenting myself. Was there any way I could keep going? Amanda finished in 3:38. I could have stuck with her and done it. Couldn't I? Was I just weak?
I don't think so. But I wonder. And it hurts. It hurts almost as much as the hurt I felt staring at a long, empty road, trying to move.
The next two miles were basically a blur of shuffling. I looked something like this:
 |
| Photo courtesy of my friend, Beth. I actually don't look like death here too much. |
 |
| Here I do. Definitely look like death here. |
I somehow miraculously shuffled my way to 13-14 minute miles these two miles. This is how I felt:
 |
| Doin' the Zombie Shuffle |
It was pretty awful. I was not proud.
I kept thinking the 4 hour group would pass me any second, and was ready to be crushed yet again when that happened. But then I hit mile 25 and looked at my watch and thought, "Are you kidding me?" I was still going to come in--comfortably--under 4 hours.
What?
That gave me at least a little bit of a surge to not look like a total asshat the last mile. I vowed to make it there and smile. This was my 7th marathon (8th if you count IM Wisconsin), and I was still going to come in under 4 hours. There had to be some kind of a silver lining in here somewhere.
The crowds were amazing. I shuffled my zombie walk, and I smiled.
 |
| Heading down the chute |
I saw my family. I smiled and waved. I almost stopped--I really should have--to hug them. Matt worked so hard to get the kids where they needed to be to cheer me on, to watch me BQ. I felt like I let them down a bit. I know I didn't, but that's what I felt at that moment.
 |
| This might be the most flattering finish line photo ever taken |
 |
| All I had left was a smile. Everything else was gone. |
 |
| FINISH |
 |
| Emmy, cheering me on |
 |
| My kids loved this statue downtown! |
And then the tears stung my eyes again.
But before I could descend into a spiral of self-pity, one of my favorite yoga instructors snapped this picture of me and gave me a huge hug and told me how amazing it was that I just finished, so I smiled again:
 |
| I honestly look happy. I'm a pretty good actress. |
I'm tired of being disappointed with amazing performances, and that's what I feel that this quest has done to me over the past 8-9 months. I went 3:41 in Columbus and 3:54 here, and I was--I am--disappointed. That's wrong. The rational person in me understands that.
Looking at that picture, I look so strong and lean. I almost didn't recognize myself.
Compare that with these two:
 |
| Finish line of my first marathon, 5:14 |
 |
| It rained a lot. I didn't care. |
Elated. Not lean. Happy.
There has to be some kind of a way to put those two people together.
I'm not exactly sure where I'm going to go from here. I'm not making any decisions until I can walk normally again. I'm overwhelmed with all the love and support that has been thrown my way. Any finish line is amazing and something to be celebrated, and I think I need to somehow get in touch with that. That might mean hanging up this goal for a while. Or not. I'm not sure.
I do know that I am loved and supported, and that despite everything that went wrong, a lot went right. I am still stronger than I ever was--at age 36 with two kids--and stronger than I ever thought I could be. So that's good.
 |
| You wanna talk about strength? Meet this girl. My former student, Blaire, who finished her first half. She's kind of amazing. |
Here's the thing: none of us have crystal balls. I can't predict the future, the weather, or what my legs will do. All I can do is try. On Monday, I told my students (who I could tell were a little disappointed as I told them a second time that I tried and failed to reach a goal I set) that I reach high, but I fall hard. And that's just my personality. I'm not a play-it-safe person with this stuff, and sometimes it works, and other times it doesn't. That is the risk you take, but that's a risk I still believe is worth taking.
My good friend Jo, who I am sad that I will not be attending Boston with, said it much better than I can. For me, trying is the sweet spot. I know I'll try again. I don't know when.
But one of these days the girl who never should make it to Boston will get there.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Spring Break Fresh Start Go
Okay, so I wallowed for maybe an extra day or two. In snow.
But I'm ready now. I feel at peace with my decision to stop at the half in Athens, and I am excited to get back on the horse and make this thing happen.
It's fitting, really, that I'll make this happen in Cleveland. 12 years ago and 35 pounds heavier, I finished my first marathon in Cleveland in five hours and fourteen minutes. They even changed the course this year to be more like that old course, and it is all on the west side. Miles 13-19 are in the city that I teach in. The turnaround is about 2 miles from my house.
In short, imma gonna have support and friendly faces ALL up on that course.
So I'm ready. I'm not really sure how to connect the dots from a botched attempt at a race where I was very tapered to May 18th, but that's why I have Coach do the leg work for me.
And you know what? The sun is out. It's getting warmer. I'm heading to Chattanooga Wednesday for our annual Evotri Training Camp and it's gonna be hot and hilly, so I can get in a good 16 miles of heat and hills and trails.
It may be hot in Cleveland, and I'm going to have to deal with that as it comes. But, as my friend Katie said to me yesterday, "There was 100% chance it was too hot in Athens at mile 13." Indeed. So I'm going to have to roll the dice and hope and pray that it's not that hot in Cleveland on May 18th. But if it is, I'm going to do whatever I can to acclimate and be ready.
I'll be a hell of a lot more ready than I was on April 13th, anyway. Our CLE schizophrenic April weather is in full swing, but today will be 75, so when these days come, I'm just going to have to get out there and run in it.
It is worth mentioning that my legs were trashed after last Sunday's race. Those 13.1 were no joke and took quite a bit out of me. I ran the half in somewhere around 1:46 (not counting two stops) which would be a PR for me. Um, yay?
Anyway, the heat left me very sore and dehydrated. But I feel like myself again today after my run, and I'm ready to hit this hard and make it happen.
This jam has been pumping me up this week. Enjoy.
Oh, and hang on for the ride--this will be an interesting journey to the next start line.
But I'm ready now. I feel at peace with my decision to stop at the half in Athens, and I am excited to get back on the horse and make this thing happen.
It's fitting, really, that I'll make this happen in Cleveland. 12 years ago and 35 pounds heavier, I finished my first marathon in Cleveland in five hours and fourteen minutes. They even changed the course this year to be more like that old course, and it is all on the west side. Miles 13-19 are in the city that I teach in. The turnaround is about 2 miles from my house.
In short, imma gonna have support and friendly faces ALL up on that course.
So I'm ready. I'm not really sure how to connect the dots from a botched attempt at a race where I was very tapered to May 18th, but that's why I have Coach do the leg work for me.
And you know what? The sun is out. It's getting warmer. I'm heading to Chattanooga Wednesday for our annual Evotri Training Camp and it's gonna be hot and hilly, so I can get in a good 16 miles of heat and hills and trails.
It may be hot in Cleveland, and I'm going to have to deal with that as it comes. But, as my friend Katie said to me yesterday, "There was 100% chance it was too hot in Athens at mile 13." Indeed. So I'm going to have to roll the dice and hope and pray that it's not that hot in Cleveland on May 18th. But if it is, I'm going to do whatever I can to acclimate and be ready.
 |
| I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. And Betty White is just so awesome. |
It is worth mentioning that my legs were trashed after last Sunday's race. Those 13.1 were no joke and took quite a bit out of me. I ran the half in somewhere around 1:46 (not counting two stops) which would be a PR for me. Um, yay?
Anyway, the heat left me very sore and dehydrated. But I feel like myself again today after my run, and I'm ready to hit this hard and make it happen.
This jam has been pumping me up this week. Enjoy.
Oh, and hang on for the ride--this will be an interesting journey to the next start line.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Minus 50
So less than 48 hours after it was too hot for me to finish a marathon, I woke up to this:
I mean....I....what the...
There are no words.
Except, of course, that clearly that was NOT meant to be my day.
Have a rotten cold at the moment--might be the 50 degree temperature swing in the past two days--but I'm trying to regroup and psych myself up to do this again--for real this time.
I'm very excited that Spring Break starts on Friday and I get to head to TN next week for some much needed fun and training with my Evotri teammates. Oh, and a long run, too, I guess. I'm gonna need to con them into that somehow. Maybe I can break it up a bit and they can each take an hour? Maybe I can promise them lots of beer?
Trying to keep the chin up over here. Been a rough week, and not just with this race. But I know that all this work wasn't wasted. There's still a good engine in here. I just need to get the chance to let it work.
 |
| WHAT |
I mean....I....what the...
There are no words.
Except, of course, that clearly that was NOT meant to be my day.
Have a rotten cold at the moment--might be the 50 degree temperature swing in the past two days--but I'm trying to regroup and psych myself up to do this again--for real this time.
I'm very excited that Spring Break starts on Friday and I get to head to TN next week for some much needed fun and training with my Evotri teammates. Oh, and a long run, too, I guess. I'm gonna need to con them into that somehow. Maybe I can break it up a bit and they can each take an hour? Maybe I can promise them lots of beer?
Trying to keep the chin up over here. Been a rough week, and not just with this race. But I know that all this work wasn't wasted. There's still a good engine in here. I just need to get the chance to let it work.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Today, I can cry
Okay, so first of all, I'm a bad blogger and just saw the comments from Robyn and Jo in my moderation folder and promptly cried again. You both rock. Thank you.
There is so much irony in today, that somehow this has to be funny. It will be, someday. But not today.
I'm allowed to cry today. Just today. Then I'm done.
That whole weather/heat thing I was worried about? And I tried really hard to ignore it but checked a few more times and watched the low and high temperatures creep up, up, and up some more?
It did me in.
The thing that just kills me, and Robyn sort of hit this on the head, is that I did SO many things right this training cycle. I ate clean, got up so early and nailed EVERY. SINGLE. RUN. that I did. I am leaner and without a doubt, much stronger than I was in October. I knew I had this. I just knew it.
I told my friends about 11 days before the race (aka the night before the first time I could check the weather report) that "I am ready for anything that might throw at me--except heat, of course! LOL"
LOL. LOL, indeed.
In the past 4 months, I have not done one run outside in a temperature warmer than 36 degrees.
Not one.
I did two treadmill runs of 14 miles when the ice and wind chills were so bad. They sucked, but I did them. All of my morning runs were inside. Every single one.
Today, the low was 61 and the high was 81 in Athens. It was, quite literally, the warmest day of 2014. And probably the warmest of the past 6 months. 35+ degrees warmer than any outside run I have done since September.
And I really wanted to believe it wouldn't be that bad, because how could it? I have nailed every single run I have done this session and then some. My buddies have been surprised at me, because I'm not usually the one setting the pace--I'm usually the one frantically trying to keep up.
I did everything right.
It didn't matter.
See, I have this thing that I don't like to admit or talk about, but it's this irregular heart thing involving extra beats. And I've been aware of it for over 20 years, and it almost never ever causes me problems. The only time I EVER notice is when it's hot. Temperatures that to many don't seem too warm can really mess me up, big time: crazy high heart rates that defy all logic.
I realized at mile 9 today that I felt like it was mile 22. And mile 9 is entirely too early to feel like it's mile 22.
I kept going, but I knew that it was only going to get hotter, and my heart was doing that racing in the heat thing again, and it was just too early for that.
So I did what was really, really difficult: I decided I was done at 13.1. I decided I was going to stop and try again at Cleveland, even though Cleveland is usually too hot for me to succeed.
It was hard. I said the F word and cried a lot. I wanted to keep going.
But it wasn't going to work, and I knew it. So I cried some more, and I'm crying a bit here while I type and then I'm done because I have to go to work tomorrow and I can't be sniffling while teaching World History and doing practice DBQs.
To quote the great Forrest Gump, that's about all I have to say about that.
What kind of kills me the most is that I know I can do this. That, and Tuesday is supposed to be 36 degrees and snowing both in Athens and Cleveland.
You're soooo FUNNY, Mother Nature! $(#)%&!
So much irony in the ONE SINGLE DAY I would have loved it to be 40 degrees and cloudy, it was in the mid 70s and not a cloud was in the sky. So much irony in that I am in the best shape of my life and I have to stop--no, I made the decision to stop, which I think is even harder--trying to reach a goal that I know that I absolutely can achieve.
Got home, and got this shirt in the mail finally that I was hoping would come before the race so I could wear it. It's from this shop, and I kind of love it:
Elle est forte. She is strong. Proverbs 31:25
"She is clothed with strength and dignity and laughs without fear of the future" --Proverbs 31:25
It was just a bit too late--in fact, I missed it by probably just a few minutes as we left yesterday afternoon. Just missed it.
But she is strong. She will try again.
She will also cry for about another hour though.
There is so much irony in today, that somehow this has to be funny. It will be, someday. But not today.
I'm allowed to cry today. Just today. Then I'm done.
That whole weather/heat thing I was worried about? And I tried really hard to ignore it but checked a few more times and watched the low and high temperatures creep up, up, and up some more?
It did me in.
The thing that just kills me, and Robyn sort of hit this on the head, is that I did SO many things right this training cycle. I ate clean, got up so early and nailed EVERY. SINGLE. RUN. that I did. I am leaner and without a doubt, much stronger than I was in October. I knew I had this. I just knew it.
I told my friends about 11 days before the race (aka the night before the first time I could check the weather report) that "I am ready for anything that might throw at me--except heat, of course! LOL"
LOL. LOL, indeed.
In the past 4 months, I have not done one run outside in a temperature warmer than 36 degrees.
Not one.
I did two treadmill runs of 14 miles when the ice and wind chills were so bad. They sucked, but I did them. All of my morning runs were inside. Every single one.
Today, the low was 61 and the high was 81 in Athens. It was, quite literally, the warmest day of 2014. And probably the warmest of the past 6 months. 35+ degrees warmer than any outside run I have done since September.
And I really wanted to believe it wouldn't be that bad, because how could it? I have nailed every single run I have done this session and then some. My buddies have been surprised at me, because I'm not usually the one setting the pace--I'm usually the one frantically trying to keep up.
I did everything right.
It didn't matter.
See, I have this thing that I don't like to admit or talk about, but it's this irregular heart thing involving extra beats. And I've been aware of it for over 20 years, and it almost never ever causes me problems. The only time I EVER notice is when it's hot. Temperatures that to many don't seem too warm can really mess me up, big time: crazy high heart rates that defy all logic.
I realized at mile 9 today that I felt like it was mile 22. And mile 9 is entirely too early to feel like it's mile 22.
I kept going, but I knew that it was only going to get hotter, and my heart was doing that racing in the heat thing again, and it was just too early for that.
So I did what was really, really difficult: I decided I was done at 13.1. I decided I was going to stop and try again at Cleveland, even though Cleveland is usually too hot for me to succeed.
It was hard. I said the F word and cried a lot. I wanted to keep going.
But it wasn't going to work, and I knew it. So I cried some more, and I'm crying a bit here while I type and then I'm done because I have to go to work tomorrow and I can't be sniffling while teaching World History and doing practice DBQs.
To quote the great Forrest Gump, that's about all I have to say about that.
What kind of kills me the most is that I know I can do this. That, and Tuesday is supposed to be 36 degrees and snowing both in Athens and Cleveland.
You're soooo FUNNY, Mother Nature! $(#)%&!
So much irony in the ONE SINGLE DAY I would have loved it to be 40 degrees and cloudy, it was in the mid 70s and not a cloud was in the sky. So much irony in that I am in the best shape of my life and I have to stop--no, I made the decision to stop, which I think is even harder--trying to reach a goal that I know that I absolutely can achieve.
Got home, and got this shirt in the mail finally that I was hoping would come before the race so I could wear it. It's from this shop, and I kind of love it:
Elle est forte. She is strong. Proverbs 31:25
"She is clothed with strength and dignity and laughs without fear of the future" --Proverbs 31:25
It was just a bit too late--in fact, I missed it by probably just a few minutes as we left yesterday afternoon. Just missed it.
But she is strong. She will try again.
She will also cry for about another hour though.
Saturday, April 05, 2014
Fall down seven times, stand up eight
About a month ago, I found out I was selected as a Women's Health Magazine Action Hero! I was quite surprised, and super excited. It's been fun connecting with a dynamic and diverse group of women: we are pretty much at all stages of life. Some in their teens, most in their twenties, and a few like me, too. Seasoned veterans. (That sounds a lot better than "older.")
I mean, I did start blogging here in 2005. In the good old days! When internet was one step above dial-up! And I was about to start my Ironman journey! Oh, man. In some ways, that feels like yesterday, and in other ways, it seems like...well, like almost a decade ago.
So much has happened since then.
I was assigned to write my post this week for our Action Hero blog, and I smiled. Perfect timing. I need to stop and reflect anyway, and think about this marathon I'm going to run next Sunday. What can I say about where I've been and what I'm about to attempt?
When I think about where I've been and where I'm about to head next Sunday, it's a little surreal. In 2002, I completed my first marathon in a time of 5:14. I remember it pouring rain on me as I brought up the back of the pack that year. I also remember not caring. I was just so happy to make it to the finish line, even if they were tearing it down. Even if the balloons at the finish had already blown away.
I set a goal, and I made it.
That was 35 pounds heavier. That was before I had two children. Literally--it was almost a lifetime ago.
I was, most assuredly, a different person.
That first marathon made me dream bigger. I set my sights on the MS150 Pedal to the Point the following summer, and although my buddy Peter and I were too tired to even go to Cedar Point that night and instead watched the E! True Hollywood Story of Anna Nicole Smith in a run-down Howard Johnson's in Sandusky (yeah. that's pretty pathetic), we made it. I rode 150+ miles in 2 days.
So then, of course, the next thought that popped in my head was, "hey, I'm just about a 2.4 mile swim away from Ironman."
Because that's totally logical, right?
Since 2002, I've seen a precedent set of dreaming very big. Bigger than I had any reason or really any right to do. I certainly did not look like an Ironman triathlete. But I decided I'd build up toward that. In 2005, I took 56 minutes off my marathon time and finished the Flying Pig Marathon in 4:20.
So could I break 4?
But in between, I focused on Ironman. And what a journey it was. I made some amazing friends and despite having pretty much the worst weather you could have for an Ironman, it was honestly one of the best and most memorable days of my life.
Then, I had a day that topped that, and my little Jackson entered my world and stole my heart.
Training became something different then--it wasn't just about me and my times. It was about justifying my time away. I didn't just want to run aimlessly; I wanted to run with purpose. Every ride, every swim I did had a focus in a way that I didn't quite have before.
And because of this, I got faster.
Every time I had in every distance started to drop. In 2008, I set my best bike/run split at Steelhead 70.3. Then, I broke 4 hours in the marathon at Columbus. That May, I had a great day at the Cleveland Half Marathon, and then I got pregnant with my little bean, Emery Grace.
The joke some of my friends told me really was true: one kid was pretty managable, but two kids made it feel like you had an army. (Major props to anyone with more than 2 kids. You are my heroes, all of you.) Between working full-time and working out, I had to prioritize even more and get even more focused.
And my times dropped again. When Emery was 6 months old, I PR'd the 70.3 distance by 16 minutes.
That's when I really felt like Boston might be within grasp.
So I tried. And failed. And tried again. And almost, just almost made it, and missed it again.
So here I am. One week out from another attempt. I feel stronger than ever and very fit. I know I have put everything I have into this race: every ounce of my focus outside of being a wife, mother, and teaching, has gone into this race.
It is still a reach. There are no guarantees.
But I think about whatever will happen at this finish line and what I'll say to my kids. They are only 6 and 4; they have no idea what Boston is or means or how hard I've worked to get there, since I've done most of the work while they were sleeping. But someday, I will tell them. I'll tell them that Mommy had a dream...a dream that sounded crazy and unreachable, but step by step, finish line by finish line, she inched even closer.
And there were times when she failed, and felt crushed. She got injured and couldn't compete. She felt like all her time and effort was wasted. But then she remembered the words of a teammate, that no race or training cycle is ever "wasted."
I learned quite a bit on this 12-year journey since I crossed that first finish line.
Regardless of what may happen next weekend, I want them to know that you don't ever have to stop trying.
I'm going to line up at that start line next Sunday with a nice healthy appreciation of where I've been. And then, I'm going to take a deep breath, say a little prayer, trust myself, and take that first step.
That's the only way you can get anywhere, anyhow.
I mean, I did start blogging here in 2005. In the good old days! When internet was one step above dial-up! And I was about to start my Ironman journey! Oh, man. In some ways, that feels like yesterday, and in other ways, it seems like...well, like almost a decade ago.
So much has happened since then.
I was assigned to write my post this week for our Action Hero blog, and I smiled. Perfect timing. I need to stop and reflect anyway, and think about this marathon I'm going to run next Sunday. What can I say about where I've been and what I'm about to attempt?
When I think about where I've been and where I'm about to head next Sunday, it's a little surreal. In 2002, I completed my first marathon in a time of 5:14. I remember it pouring rain on me as I brought up the back of the pack that year. I also remember not caring. I was just so happy to make it to the finish line, even if they were tearing it down. Even if the balloons at the finish had already blown away.
I set a goal, and I made it.
That was 35 pounds heavier. That was before I had two children. Literally--it was almost a lifetime ago.
I was, most assuredly, a different person.
That first marathon made me dream bigger. I set my sights on the MS150 Pedal to the Point the following summer, and although my buddy Peter and I were too tired to even go to Cedar Point that night and instead watched the E! True Hollywood Story of Anna Nicole Smith in a run-down Howard Johnson's in Sandusky (yeah. that's pretty pathetic), we made it. I rode 150+ miles in 2 days.
So then, of course, the next thought that popped in my head was, "hey, I'm just about a 2.4 mile swim away from Ironman."
Because that's totally logical, right?
Since 2002, I've seen a precedent set of dreaming very big. Bigger than I had any reason or really any right to do. I certainly did not look like an Ironman triathlete. But I decided I'd build up toward that. In 2005, I took 56 minutes off my marathon time and finished the Flying Pig Marathon in 4:20.
So could I break 4?
But in between, I focused on Ironman. And what a journey it was. I made some amazing friends and despite having pretty much the worst weather you could have for an Ironman, it was honestly one of the best and most memorable days of my life.
Then, I had a day that topped that, and my little Jackson entered my world and stole my heart.
Training became something different then--it wasn't just about me and my times. It was about justifying my time away. I didn't just want to run aimlessly; I wanted to run with purpose. Every ride, every swim I did had a focus in a way that I didn't quite have before.
And because of this, I got faster.
Every time I had in every distance started to drop. In 2008, I set my best bike/run split at Steelhead 70.3. Then, I broke 4 hours in the marathon at Columbus. That May, I had a great day at the Cleveland Half Marathon, and then I got pregnant with my little bean, Emery Grace.
The joke some of my friends told me really was true: one kid was pretty managable, but two kids made it feel like you had an army. (Major props to anyone with more than 2 kids. You are my heroes, all of you.) Between working full-time and working out, I had to prioritize even more and get even more focused.
And my times dropped again. When Emery was 6 months old, I PR'd the 70.3 distance by 16 minutes.
That's when I really felt like Boston might be within grasp.
So I tried. And failed. And tried again. And almost, just almost made it, and missed it again.
So here I am. One week out from another attempt. I feel stronger than ever and very fit. I know I have put everything I have into this race: every ounce of my focus outside of being a wife, mother, and teaching, has gone into this race.
It is still a reach. There are no guarantees.
But I think about whatever will happen at this finish line and what I'll say to my kids. They are only 6 and 4; they have no idea what Boston is or means or how hard I've worked to get there, since I've done most of the work while they were sleeping. But someday, I will tell them. I'll tell them that Mommy had a dream...a dream that sounded crazy and unreachable, but step by step, finish line by finish line, she inched even closer.
And there were times when she failed, and felt crushed. She got injured and couldn't compete. She felt like all her time and effort was wasted. But then she remembered the words of a teammate, that no race or training cycle is ever "wasted."
I learned quite a bit on this 12-year journey since I crossed that first finish line.
Regardless of what may happen next weekend, I want them to know that you don't ever have to stop trying.
I'm going to line up at that start line next Sunday with a nice healthy appreciation of where I've been. And then, I'm going to take a deep breath, say a little prayer, trust myself, and take that first step.
That's the only way you can get anywhere, anyhow.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Recovery
"To be nobody-but-yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody but yourself - means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight- and never stop fighting.” --E.E. Cummings
I had a recovery week this past week, and due to a certain sweet little 4-year-old who felt rotten and slept even rotten-er, I had to do my long run solo on Saturday. This led me with lots of time to think. I've had a post brewing about this for a while, but I'm not sure it's going to come out right. I'm going to give it my best shot.
I just recently finished "The Gifts of Imperfection" by Brene Brown. For anyone who, like me, is a "recovering perfectionist and aspiring good-enoughist," I highly recommend it. I found myself nodding pretty much at least once a page, like, yep, yep, I do that, uh-huh, um, are you HERE WATCHING ME?
“Understanding the difference between healthy striving and perfectionism is critical to laying down the shield and picking up your life. Research shows that perfectionism hampers success. In fact, it's often the path to depression, anxiety, addiction, and life paralysis.” --Brene Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
One thing I struggle with--daily--is how to be the best person I can be but for God's sake, cut myself a little slack. Slack, but persistence. Go easy, but push hard. Is it any wonder why I'm drawn to endurance athletics? It's basically my brain wearing a race number, going through one big metaphor.
My insistence upon perfection started early. I felt it during swimming, but seeing as I was rarely the fastest person in the pool, I think it was more of a good lesson for me in how to lose humbly. I kept pushing, but I knew I couldn’t be the best. And a little bit of me hated myself for knowing that and surrendering that. Thus began the internal struggle of Good Enough vs. Best Ever.
Honestly, how many of us can be the Best Ever? Ever?
And how much stress are we wasting trying? The Best Dieter. The Best Parent. The Best Worker.
It’s kind of dangerous, because many of us (read: ME) don’t want to admit or realize that it’s just not healthy to live that way. And it’s taking its toll in the form of anxiety, stress, and just general un-pleasantness sometimes.
I’ve been working on this lots the past few years, because it was getting to the point where something had to change, or I was going to literally make myself sick.
There has to be a way to push yourself to be the best without pushing yourself to the brink of destruction.
The thing is, that I don’t remember always being such a worrier or as fearful as I can be now. Certainly I do remember being a little anxious or worried back in the day, especially when I had a recital coming up, a big solo in the concert, tryouts for a team, pitching in that big rivalry game. The normal stuff where butterflies are to be expected, right? But I’ve spoken before about being rewired after I had Bug. It was like instantly, all at once, I held him and my needs were distant. His were first. And making mistakes no longer affected just me. It affected him, too. And my love for him made me want to be the best person I could and make no mistakes, which is, of course, impossible. It’s a good thing for Bug to know I’m not invincible. I get that, yet it doesn’t make it any easier to let him see my faults and my fears.
“To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn’t come with guarantees – these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain. But, I’m learning that recognizing and leaning into the discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy, gratitude and grace.” --Brene Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
Has it always been this way?
_________________________________________
I have been blessed to have my fair share of successes in my life, but I do remember the times I’ve failed just as much. Most notably, that day last October. Where I still find myself asking, how can I call that a failure? It wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination. A huge breakthrough with a tiny dash of disappointment is probably the more accurate term. And it shouldn’t even be that, but it was. I’m just being honest.
But it has made me a hungrier person. I’ve attacked this training with a sense of purpose like I’ve never done before, and I think it’s because I know now that, without a doubt, what I thought was impossible a few years ago is going to happen. And I want it to happen now.
One of my most vivid memories of my perfectionism balanced with good-enough-ism comes from Solo and Ensemble Contest during (I think?) my senior year of high school. I can’t remember the year, but I remember the moment right down to what I was wearing.
I began playing piano at age 8, and let’s face it, piano is a skill that requires a good amount of perfection. I mean, no one wants to hear someone slaughter a piece, right? So it fed into this tendency I had and usually served me well.
Until.
Until the time that I attempted a Brahms rhapsody that was so hard that virtually no 17-year-old had any business attacking said piece. I can’t remember which piece it was, only that the entire thing was almost black from the notes and that my teacher told me it was “very difficult.” It was a Class A solo—which meant, Really Freaking Hard.
Of course! Let’s do it. Because, yes.
Because, that’s just what I do.
I wish I could go back and tell 17-year-old me that there’s a better piece out there, there’s one that will allow me to showcase my talent—musicality—without driving me to the point of insanity. Now that I am a parent, I really want to tell her that.
(But I don’t think she’d listen. She’s pretty fearless. WAY more fearless than me.)
I remember lying in bed at night, hearing the melody, moving my fingers on my comforter.
I put so much into that piece.
And I remember the cold, neon-lit room that I played the piece in, and I remember knowing I did not play it perfectly. But I played it the best that I could, and I threw my heart and soul into it.
A score of “I” was the best. Every year, and almost every solo I ever did, whether flute or piano, I received a score of “I.” Because, yes. Of course I did.
I walked out, hands still shaking, knowing I would not get a I. And I was strangely okay with that. I had attempted Mount Everest, and I had gotten to the top with a few stumbles. Even 17-year-old me knew enough to respect that.
So when I walked into that gross cafeteria with the nasty carpeting (seriously, who ever thinks carpeting in any high school rooms is okay?) to see the scores published on the wall with everyone’s name and school and everything and saw this:
“Sara Arcaro, Piano, Class A: IV”
I literally felt my jaw hit the ground.
Four?
FOUR?
Four is what they give you when you shouldn’t have even shown up. Did they even GIVE fours at this thing? I mean, seriously.
Four is EMBARRASSING.
I remember searching the entire list, thinking there must be a mistake. I saw one other kid who got a 4…some trumpet solo or something.
And me.
I think I might have cried a little, just because I was shocked. It was literally impossible to believe, that I could have been that bad. My piano teacher was livid. We both knew it was not a one, but neither one of us were prepared for a four on that wall.
The thing was, I had another Class A flute solo coming up in like 23 minutes, and I needed to pull myself together to do it. But I remember my hands shaking from anger and disappointment and disbelief and I have to go play the flute now? In front of a room full of strangers?
I felt like everyone in that entire room must know I failed, like I had a Scarlet IV on my chest or something. I thought of all the hours I spent practicing for my…four. I felt like I had been punched in the gut.
And then, I decided that wasn’t going to be how this story ended. So I got my flute, went into another room, said a little prayer and then also said, “screw it, I’m going to play my damn heart out,” and did. And got my final “I.”
What I remember most about that day is how strong I was to say, eff this, I’m writing my own ending here, and I don’t care what anyone who sees that list thinks about me. I’m not a four.
I don’t think 36 year old me would have that kind of courage. I wish I did.
_________________________________________
So many of my friends (and ME!) seem to struggle with this pursuit of perfection, and who can blame them (us)? In this Pinterest-worthy world, the pressure is on not just to have a party but to have a PARTY! With EVERYTHING PERFECT! and to have a perfectly coordinated home and well-behaved children with beautiful, handmade clothing and a fulfilling job and meals that are Instagrammable (side note: why is taking pictures of your food a thing? I still don’t really get that).
I’ve made a conscious effort over the past few weeks to shut out anything that might make me feel less true to myself. I’ve limited social media to just “hopping on to see what that message says” and changed my morning radio routine to a Spotify playlist, instead of hearing the latest horrible news in Syria, Ukraine, and here. Me. A Social Studies teacher. This is probably against the Social Studies Teacher Handbook, but I’ve done it.
I’ve tuned out to everyone else, and tuned into me.
I’m trying to really accept me for me, and realize that regardless of what happens in Athens on April 13th, I am still not a four. I showed up. I put my shoes on. I Dared Greatly. I set myself up for leaning over a cliff grasping at a star, and if I fall, I fall hard.
Because 17-year old me in that cafeteria knows, that that is how you live.
She was not afraid.
And I need to take a lesson from her.
Saturday, March 08, 2014
Checking in: And Killing It
Okay, so yeah, there goes another month and OMG DIDN'T I JUST SAY THAT I WASN'T GOING TO LET THAT HAPPEN.
Yeah. I'm sorry. Bad blogger! Bad!
Anyway, I am between bathtime and birthday party pickup time and almost-House-Of-Cards time (which is after bedtime) that is also combined with Vegan Chocolate Ice Cream Time and here I am. Standing in the kitchen, ready to give you an update.
Because this is how I roll lately, people.
School = awesome yet crazy. Less than 80 days until the AP U.S. History test. As usual, I am pretty sure I am more worried about it than them, which is saying a lot because they are actually legitimately worried. But I just want them to DO! SO! WELL! and the weather has definitely set us back a bit--to the tune of almost two weeks. So playing catch up right about now!
Running has been going amazing. First, I ran a trail half marathon where I goofed around the first 8 miles and ate lots of grilled cheese and M&Ms at the aid station (standard) and it was a blizzard and I took about 804,402 pictures.
Then, the last 5 miles I dropped the hammer and kicked it. And then, the next day, I thought I was injured! Nooooooooo. The very beginnings of plantar fasciitis, which sucked because it was my fault. I wore my trail shoes which, no joke, still had mud on them from last year's race. So that tells you about how many times I ran trails in the past 12 months, right? And I bombed all the downhills. I mean, HAULED. It was so fun. But I paid for it/am still kind of paying for it, so I am just trying to be really careful.
Two weeks ago it was actually sunny--yay!--but I was actually almost injured, so I backed off and ran an hour on the local high school track. Super boring, but whatever. Got the job done, felt great, and I kicked ass, so that was good.
Katie and Ana are injured--boo--but this has had me running with some newer peeps, who are equally as awesome. Mandie, Amanda, Shannon, Jackie, and Jen have been crazy enough nice enough to join me for some killer runs the past two weeks. Last weekend we ran 18 miles and negative split it, and I felt really, really good.
This weekend we met up again and dealt with a TON of black ice/sleet (PLEASE WINTER. GO HOME.) and snow in our faces, but we did this:
12 miles at an average of around 8:55 (pretty awesome considering the sleet and black ice had us literally ice skating in parts)
Then, it went like this:
Mile 13 8:05
Mile 14 7:51
Mile 15 7:45
Mile 16 7:38
Mile 16.01 = felt a little pukey.
That workout was similar to one I did in the buildup for Columbus. Back then, it literally made me cry. This time? I SLAUGHTERED IT. It was amazing. I felt like I could move mountains.
We finished out miles 16-20.67 (yes, an extra 0.67 DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED WE WERE ALL SO MAD) at an average of around 8:55 again, which is pretty impressive considering we were basically running like grannies during mile 17. Average for 20.67 miles = 8:43/mile.
So you know what? Provided I do not get injured, I'm feeling like I can call my shot here for Athens.
People, I think I just might do this thing.
So I'm going to hang on for this crazy ride for the next 4 weeks. I'm sure I'll have a rotten run here soon just to put me in my place, which is a good thing. All marathoners need to be reminded every once in a while that we are not invincible.
But right now? It feels good to know that I'm running stronger than I ever have in my entire life.
Yeah. I'm sorry. Bad blogger! Bad!
Anyway, I am between bathtime and birthday party pickup time and almost-House-Of-Cards time (which is after bedtime) that is also combined with Vegan Chocolate Ice Cream Time and here I am. Standing in the kitchen, ready to give you an update.
Because this is how I roll lately, people.
School = awesome yet crazy. Less than 80 days until the AP U.S. History test. As usual, I am pretty sure I am more worried about it than them, which is saying a lot because they are actually legitimately worried. But I just want them to DO! SO! WELL! and the weather has definitely set us back a bit--to the tune of almost two weeks. So playing catch up right about now!
Running has been going amazing. First, I ran a trail half marathon where I goofed around the first 8 miles and ate lots of grilled cheese and M&Ms at the aid station (standard) and it was a blizzard and I took about 804,402 pictures.
 |
| It was absolutely BEAUTIFUL. We pretty much ran in a snow globe. |
 |
| Kim, Lori, Lucia, and I at the start |
 |
| A motion selfie |
 |
| Another moving selfie |
 |
| Lori, the human snowman, eating a delicious grilled cheese |
Two weeks ago it was actually sunny--yay!--but I was actually almost injured, so I backed off and ran an hour on the local high school track. Super boring, but whatever. Got the job done, felt great, and I kicked ass, so that was good.
 |
| Just me on the track, for like, a REALLY long time |
This weekend we met up again and dealt with a TON of black ice/sleet (PLEASE WINTER. GO HOME.) and snow in our faces, but we did this:
12 miles at an average of around 8:55 (pretty awesome considering the sleet and black ice had us literally ice skating in parts)
Then, it went like this:
Mile 13 8:05
Mile 14 7:51
Mile 15 7:45
Mile 16 7:38
Mile 16.01 = felt a little pukey.
That workout was similar to one I did in the buildup for Columbus. Back then, it literally made me cry. This time? I SLAUGHTERED IT. It was amazing. I felt like I could move mountains.
We finished out miles 16-20.67 (yes, an extra 0.67 DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED WE WERE ALL SO MAD) at an average of around 8:55 again, which is pretty impressive considering we were basically running like grannies during mile 17. Average for 20.67 miles = 8:43/mile.
So you know what? Provided I do not get injured, I'm feeling like I can call my shot here for Athens.
People, I think I just might do this thing.
So I'm going to hang on for this crazy ride for the next 4 weeks. I'm sure I'll have a rotten run here soon just to put me in my place, which is a good thing. All marathoners need to be reminded every once in a while that we are not invincible.
But right now? It feels good to know that I'm running stronger than I ever have in my entire life.
Friday, February 07, 2014
Passing You a Note
Alright, so it's no secret I've been a bad blogger lately. One post a month?! Sheesh. I used to post on this thing daily. Even when Bug was little, I could still make it every few days. And I know that the world has largely moved on to 140 characters world, but just because that's true doesn't mean I have to abandon the old way.
It can be like when I tell my students about the GOOD OLD DAYS when if you wanted to send a message to a friend during class you had to do it like with ACTUAL PEN AND PAPER and then fold it up and somehow LITERALLY send it across the room before your teacher noticed. OMG the HORROR.
And now? This is what I deal with. DAILY.
So I'm going to try and be better about recording the little steps and the little things here, because I'm reminded of how cool it is to look back at the unfolding story much, much later.
So first of all, I did the Whole30 from December 28-January 28. Starting before New Year's Eve/Day was a special kind of torture normally reserved for inmates at Guantanamo, but it definitely taught me a LOT about my food habits and how I eat. For instance, I realized I am addicted to ALL nut butters, and not just peanut butter! I'm an equal-opportunity nut-butter addict. But another thing I realized is just how GOOD I feel when I eat cleanly. And I was eating entirely too many "junk" carbs--stupid crackers, stupid cheerios, stupid things that aren't even good but I'm hungry now so gimme a handful. That kind of stuff. I mean, it's NOT even good. Why am I eating it?
All in all, when it was over, I hit 139.5 pounds for the first time since seriously 7th grade. I got MUCH leaner and you could definitely tell, especially in my middle. I have before and after pictures but I'm not going to post them here because, ew, people, do you remember what I do for a living? That's the last thing I need my students and their smartphones to see. But it's safe to say it was a BIG difference. Now, my challenge is to continue to eat cleanly (but HELLO SUGAR! Oh how I've missed you) and still be able to fuel my long runs and workouts. I am trying to stay as dairy/legume free as I can and limit the sugar to GOOD sugar (like, make sure it's tasty enough to actually be worth it). I need to be good about incorporating good, quality carbs. Not the handfuls of generic wheat thins nonsense. So I recently got this:
And I will give it a good review and let you know what I think!
So over the past 5 weeks or so, I’ve been stuck in this whole Polar Vortex Nonsense that Mother Nature has decided to throw at the East/Midwest clearly since I said OUT LOUD that I was going to do the Athens Marathon on 4/13. Thanks a lot, Mother Nature. So needless to say, training has been a bit tough. It’s been me, alone, in my basement for WAYYYY more miles than I’d like. I still have my crew of girls but the ice has made things difficult. We’re not afraid of cold or snow, but we are hesitant to mess with this ice as I had a running friend slip a few weeks ago and tear her patella tendon. 12 weeks on her back, friends. I can’t mess with that. And poor Ana is injured, too, which really blows. At least she’s not missing great running weather, but I feel for her since I’ve been there and I know how frustrating it is!
Coach Emily has been great about sending me tough treadmill workouts and I do always follow the 1% rule even though the girls at Salty Running have said it’s not necessary. I dunno, I still feel like it works for me, so I’m going with it for now. This weekend I have 14 on tap with some speedwork thrown in, and it will be...on the treadmill. So if you have any good podcast suggestions or Pandora stations, please please PLEASE SEND THEM TO ME AGGGGGHHHH 14milesonatreadmill. But you gotta do what you gotta do.
At the end of the day, everything I am doing: what I’m putting into my body, what I’m doing on the treadmill, trainer, road, and pool...I’m trying to remember that it will help me get this goal. It’s within reach now, and missing it by a minute has, if anything, made me even more determined than I was before. So follow along if you want to see how this all ends.
Besides, everyone loves a good underdog story, right?
It can be like when I tell my students about the GOOD OLD DAYS when if you wanted to send a message to a friend during class you had to do it like with ACTUAL PEN AND PAPER and then fold it up and somehow LITERALLY send it across the room before your teacher noticed. OMG the HORROR.
And now? This is what I deal with. DAILY.
 |
| But we need them for safety! says every parent in America |
So first of all, I did the Whole30 from December 28-January 28. Starting before New Year's Eve/Day was a special kind of torture normally reserved for inmates at Guantanamo, but it definitely taught me a LOT about my food habits and how I eat. For instance, I realized I am addicted to ALL nut butters, and not just peanut butter! I'm an equal-opportunity nut-butter addict. But another thing I realized is just how GOOD I feel when I eat cleanly. And I was eating entirely too many "junk" carbs--stupid crackers, stupid cheerios, stupid things that aren't even good but I'm hungry now so gimme a handful. That kind of stuff. I mean, it's NOT even good. Why am I eating it?
All in all, when it was over, I hit 139.5 pounds for the first time since seriously 7th grade. I got MUCH leaner and you could definitely tell, especially in my middle. I have before and after pictures but I'm not going to post them here because, ew, people, do you remember what I do for a living? That's the last thing I need my students and their smartphones to see. But it's safe to say it was a BIG difference. Now, my challenge is to continue to eat cleanly (but HELLO SUGAR! Oh how I've missed you) and still be able to fuel my long runs and workouts. I am trying to stay as dairy/legume free as I can and limit the sugar to GOOD sugar (like, make sure it's tasty enough to actually be worth it). I need to be good about incorporating good, quality carbs. Not the handfuls of generic wheat thins nonsense. So I recently got this:
And I will give it a good review and let you know what I think!
So over the past 5 weeks or so, I’ve been stuck in this whole Polar Vortex Nonsense that Mother Nature has decided to throw at the East/Midwest clearly since I said OUT LOUD that I was going to do the Athens Marathon on 4/13. Thanks a lot, Mother Nature. So needless to say, training has been a bit tough. It’s been me, alone, in my basement for WAYYYY more miles than I’d like. I still have my crew of girls but the ice has made things difficult. We’re not afraid of cold or snow, but we are hesitant to mess with this ice as I had a running friend slip a few weeks ago and tear her patella tendon. 12 weeks on her back, friends. I can’t mess with that. And poor Ana is injured, too, which really blows. At least she’s not missing great running weather, but I feel for her since I’ve been there and I know how frustrating it is!
Coach Emily has been great about sending me tough treadmill workouts and I do always follow the 1% rule even though the girls at Salty Running have said it’s not necessary. I dunno, I still feel like it works for me, so I’m going with it for now. This weekend I have 14 on tap with some speedwork thrown in, and it will be...on the treadmill. So if you have any good podcast suggestions or Pandora stations, please please PLEASE SEND THEM TO ME AGGGGGHHHH 14milesonatreadmill. But you gotta do what you gotta do.
At the end of the day, everything I am doing: what I’m putting into my body, what I’m doing on the treadmill, trainer, road, and pool...I’m trying to remember that it will help me get this goal. It’s within reach now, and missing it by a minute has, if anything, made me even more determined than I was before. So follow along if you want to see how this all ends.
Besides, everyone loves a good underdog story, right?
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Best Year Ever.
This past year, I somehow managed to have the best races of my life all in one season.
I'm pretty much amazed still. I know it was a few months ago, but I totally did NOT see this coming in 2013.
Lots and lots of people to thank for this, including my awesome coach, my amazing team, my sponsors, my running girls, and of course, Matt and my family. None of these finish lines would have ever happened without them.
I had to document this pretty epic year. Here's to 2014!
I'm pretty much amazed still. I know it was a few months ago, but I totally did NOT see this coming in 2013.
Lots and lots of people to thank for this, including my awesome coach, my amazing team, my sponsors, my running girls, and of course, Matt and my family. None of these finish lines would have ever happened without them.
I had to document this pretty epic year. Here's to 2014!
(Music courtesy of Langhorne Slim and the Law. )
Sunday, December 01, 2013
Race Report: Turkey Dash, 2013
Totally didn't expect this race to go so well!
First of all, we've already established that I've done little since the marathon but run easy, cross train a bit, and consume copious amounts of peanut butter. No speedwork has been completed. Repeat: NONE.
Then on Wednesday, I decided to take Kim up on an invitation to head to the Beachland Ballroom to go hear some good live music. It was super fun, but a late night fueled by a Bell's Winter White and some water (because I'm a responsible hydrater like that).
Got up early to the bitter chill and wind and thought WHY WHY WHYDIDITHINKTHISWASAGOODIDEA? Ugh. I sort of wished I was pacing a friend or something so it would make me NOT feel like I had to run hard. But the only person I knew running aside from my awesome Mom was Katie, and let's face it, her sub-7 minute pace is not exactly what I would call "comfortable" and more what I call "puke-enducing."
So, I figured I'd just give it a go and see what happened.
First mile was around 7:20, so all things considered, not too bad. I slowed down a bit in the 2nd mile--something around 7:40? May have been a touch long. Then I just decided that I still, for some reason, felt pretty good (this is rare in a 5K and means I am not running fast enough, of course) so I picked it up at the end to actually negative split the race. What? I NEVER negative split 5Ks. I go out too fast and then DIEDIEDIE every time.
But I picked it up and crossed the line all, "ain't no thang." I barely even felt tired. And the best part? I ran a 23:2X (chip time is messed up so I'll update it when it's fixed!). Considering it took me 9 years to break an old PR of 23:43, pulling this 23:2X outta my ear is pretty awesome.
Now, if only I could run a 5K to my full potential and actually do it right. Alas, that HURTS WAY TOO MUCH.
But for now? Pumpkin pie, please!
First of all, we've already established that I've done little since the marathon but run easy, cross train a bit, and consume copious amounts of peanut butter. No speedwork has been completed. Repeat: NONE.
Then on Wednesday, I decided to take Kim up on an invitation to head to the Beachland Ballroom to go hear some good live music. It was super fun, but a late night fueled by a Bell's Winter White and some water (because I'm a responsible hydrater like that).
Got up early to the bitter chill and wind and thought WHY WHY WHYDIDITHINKTHISWASAGOODIDEA? Ugh. I sort of wished I was pacing a friend or something so it would make me NOT feel like I had to run hard. But the only person I knew running aside from my awesome Mom was Katie, and let's face it, her sub-7 minute pace is not exactly what I would call "comfortable" and more what I call "puke-enducing."
 |
| Me and the Mom, who is actually almost 27 years older than me. No joke. If I don't age like she has, I'm a gonna HURT SOMEBODY |
So, I figured I'd just give it a go and see what happened.
First mile was around 7:20, so all things considered, not too bad. I slowed down a bit in the 2nd mile--something around 7:40? May have been a touch long. Then I just decided that I still, for some reason, felt pretty good (this is rare in a 5K and means I am not running fast enough, of course) so I picked it up at the end to actually negative split the race. What? I NEVER negative split 5Ks. I go out too fast and then DIEDIEDIE every time.
 |
| BRRR it was cold! |
 |
| flyin' to the finish |
But I picked it up and crossed the line all, "ain't no thang." I barely even felt tired. And the best part? I ran a 23:2X (chip time is messed up so I'll update it when it's fixed!). Considering it took me 9 years to break an old PR of 23:43, pulling this 23:2X outta my ear is pretty awesome.
Now, if only I could run a 5K to my full potential and actually do it right. Alas, that HURTS WAY TOO MUCH.
But for now? Pumpkin pie, please!
 |
| The real reason why I run on Thanksgiving: double pie |
Sunday, November 24, 2013
What went right, what went wrong
I've been enjoying this last month off, so to speak, and sleeping in a bit and running short distances. I'm under strict instructions NOT to use a watch (of course, I have to...just to know where to turn around usually...but I swear I am not looking! much) and am trying to use this time to recharge a bit before we start the process again after the first of the year.
I thought it might be helpful if I record a few things I did, and explain some that I thought worked and some that I screwed up.
I know, I know...almost 18 minutes off a marathon is NOT a "screw-up." I don't want to sound like it was. But even on a great day, we can still learn something.
What I did do: low-mileage, higher intensity training
Okay, so you high-mileage, high-volume purists in the house are going to probably disagree with me here, but LOWER mileage with higher intensity seems to just work best for me. I know it may not for you or others out there, but when my volume creeps up, that's when I get super injured. I'm a firm believer that this is the best method for me. I think I only had two weeks where my running mileage topped 40 miles. I also only ran one 20-miler. In the past I've done 2 or 3 of those. Furthermore, I continued my streak of never running more than 20 miles except for a marathon and thinking people who do so are awesome but a little bit crazy. For me, running that many miles does way more harm than good.
Now, these long runs were KILLER, though. I'd do a 16 miler where miles 10-15 started at race pace and dropped down to 7:20/mile. Typing that sounds painful; running it is even more so. But it helped me not only get faster but trust myself when the race started to really hurt. I think it kept me from bonking long before I did.
What I didn't do: fuel properly
So I know part of this is that I worked really hard to lose some weight. And I'm always a little afraid that it will come back. Also, I have a sensitive stomach so I have to be careful of eating too close to my running and what I eat while I run. Because of this, I don't believe I ate nearly enough both before and during my long runs. I'm going to have to experiment a bit with this.
Case in point: the very last calories I consumed pre-race were some oatmeal and a breakfast bar at 5:30am. Then NOTHING until around mile 7.5, which was around 8:45am. That is ENTIRELY too long of a deficit before taking in some calories. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I only was able to get down some sports drink (a few sips at aid stations) and about 2.5 gu's in the entire race. So it wasn't surprising that when I demanded my legs GO GO GO at mile 23 around 11:10am, they pretty much gave me the middle finger.
Coach Emily emailed me what she eats before a half-ironman, and basically, it's Thanksgiving Dinner. I was kind of shocked. And she's pretty much the tiniest, leanest person in the universe. So I need to let go this fear that fuel will make me gain weight and accept more that it is necessary. You'd think that after 11 years of racing, I'd already know this, and I sort of do. But I think I needed to really be hit over the head with it. Nutrition will always, ALWAYS make or break your race. I will be playing around with this during the next training session, for sure.
What I did do: train with people slightly faster than me
Aside from giving me a nice big slice of humble pie often as I gasped along the side of the road, swearing and trying not to die, while watching my running buddies seemingly effortlessly gliding ahead of me, this was really a good thing. It's easy to be a big fish in a small pond, but it is harder to show up week after week and know that the pack is a little faster than you and use that to try to be better. They are too cute because they claim that running with ME made them faster...I was like, no dudes. You guys pulling ME along made me faster. And you know what's really cool? We all got faster. Ana had a breakthrough run and huge PR at Columbus, Katie ran a 3:30 and was the 2nd overall female at her race, and Kim absolutely annihilated NYC with a 3:32. You'd better believe I'm making them run with me in the snowy, slushy, nastiness that is CLE in February and March!
That's all for now. I'm sure I'll think of more, but I know things went MOSTLY right. I just need to make a few more adjustments to clear this hurdle come April 13.
I thought it might be helpful if I record a few things I did, and explain some that I thought worked and some that I screwed up.
I know, I know...almost 18 minutes off a marathon is NOT a "screw-up." I don't want to sound like it was. But even on a great day, we can still learn something.
What I did do: low-mileage, higher intensity training
Okay, so you high-mileage, high-volume purists in the house are going to probably disagree with me here, but LOWER mileage with higher intensity seems to just work best for me. I know it may not for you or others out there, but when my volume creeps up, that's when I get super injured. I'm a firm believer that this is the best method for me. I think I only had two weeks where my running mileage topped 40 miles. I also only ran one 20-miler. In the past I've done 2 or 3 of those. Furthermore, I continued my streak of never running more than 20 miles except for a marathon and thinking people who do so are awesome but a little bit crazy. For me, running that many miles does way more harm than good.
Now, these long runs were KILLER, though. I'd do a 16 miler where miles 10-15 started at race pace and dropped down to 7:20/mile. Typing that sounds painful; running it is even more so. But it helped me not only get faster but trust myself when the race started to really hurt. I think it kept me from bonking long before I did.
What I didn't do: fuel properly
So I know part of this is that I worked really hard to lose some weight. And I'm always a little afraid that it will come back. Also, I have a sensitive stomach so I have to be careful of eating too close to my running and what I eat while I run. Because of this, I don't believe I ate nearly enough both before and during my long runs. I'm going to have to experiment a bit with this.
Case in point: the very last calories I consumed pre-race were some oatmeal and a breakfast bar at 5:30am. Then NOTHING until around mile 7.5, which was around 8:45am. That is ENTIRELY too long of a deficit before taking in some calories. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I only was able to get down some sports drink (a few sips at aid stations) and about 2.5 gu's in the entire race. So it wasn't surprising that when I demanded my legs GO GO GO at mile 23 around 11:10am, they pretty much gave me the middle finger.
Coach Emily emailed me what she eats before a half-ironman, and basically, it's Thanksgiving Dinner. I was kind of shocked. And she's pretty much the tiniest, leanest person in the universe. So I need to let go this fear that fuel will make me gain weight and accept more that it is necessary. You'd think that after 11 years of racing, I'd already know this, and I sort of do. But I think I needed to really be hit over the head with it. Nutrition will always, ALWAYS make or break your race. I will be playing around with this during the next training session, for sure.
What I did do: train with people slightly faster than me
Aside from giving me a nice big slice of humble pie often as I gasped along the side of the road, swearing and trying not to die, while watching my running buddies seemingly effortlessly gliding ahead of me, this was really a good thing. It's easy to be a big fish in a small pond, but it is harder to show up week after week and know that the pack is a little faster than you and use that to try to be better. They are too cute because they claim that running with ME made them faster...I was like, no dudes. You guys pulling ME along made me faster. And you know what's really cool? We all got faster. Ana had a breakthrough run and huge PR at Columbus, Katie ran a 3:30 and was the 2nd overall female at her race, and Kim absolutely annihilated NYC with a 3:32. You'd better believe I'm making them run with me in the snowy, slushy, nastiness that is CLE in February and March!
That's all for now. I'm sure I'll think of more, but I know things went MOSTLY right. I just need to make a few more adjustments to clear this hurdle come April 13.
Tuesday, November 05, 2013
What's Next?
It's been a little over two weeks, and I can walk like a normal person and all that stuff. I have my traditional "Post-Marathon Cold," which is rather annoying. I spent the week after the marathon eating all the peanut butter I could get my hands on, and then after about a week of pure peanut-induced gluttony, I got back on the healthy eating train.
And it felt really strange to NOT run that much.
Good, though. I needed to think about it and reflect a bit.
Let me say this: I am still pretty much amazed and in awe that I took almost 18 minutes off my best marathon time ever with no more than 40 miles per week.
That's not really supposed to happen. And it did.
But here's the thing:
Now I can't go back.
I have realized now that I'm no longer the girl who might sneak in under 4 hours in a marathon if she's lucky. I'm no longer that runner.
I am now the girl who is a little bit fast.
I never thought I'd be her, but I am. I am the very runner I looked up to back when I started, and for that reason, I am not--NOT--allowed to complain about what happened two weeks ago.
What happened two weeks ago is nothing short of amazing. I respect it.
But it definitely made me hungrier.
See, folks, the bar has been raised by quite a lot. And if you've been around these parts since, oh, I dunno, 2005 when I started writing this blog, you can probably guess what I'm going to do next.
I'm going to give it another shot. Of course I am. Come on now. You know me better than that.
I can't just stop with my fingertips touching the bar.
I need to clear it.
This crazy dream I thought up a few years ago is so close, and now I know--I really know--that I can do it. It's going to be really, really hard, but I can do it. If I can do what I did two weeks ago, then surely I can take off 3 more minutes. It's a matter of time, and guts.
So here's to the next, first step.
And it felt really strange to NOT run that much.
Good, though. I needed to think about it and reflect a bit.
Let me say this: I am still pretty much amazed and in awe that I took almost 18 minutes off my best marathon time ever with no more than 40 miles per week.
That's not really supposed to happen. And it did.
But here's the thing:
Now I can't go back.
I have realized now that I'm no longer the girl who might sneak in under 4 hours in a marathon if she's lucky. I'm no longer that runner.
I am now the girl who is a little bit fast.
I never thought I'd be her, but I am. I am the very runner I looked up to back when I started, and for that reason, I am not--NOT--allowed to complain about what happened two weeks ago.
What happened two weeks ago is nothing short of amazing. I respect it.
But it definitely made me hungrier.
See, folks, the bar has been raised by quite a lot. And if you've been around these parts since, oh, I dunno, 2005 when I started writing this blog, you can probably guess what I'm going to do next.
I'm going to give it another shot. Of course I am. Come on now. You know me better than that.
I can't just stop with my fingertips touching the bar.
I need to clear it.
This crazy dream I thought up a few years ago is so close, and now I know--I really know--that I can do it. It's going to be really, really hard, but I can do it. If I can do what I did two weeks ago, then surely I can take off 3 more minutes. It's a matter of time, and guts.
So here's to the next, first step.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Race Report, Columbus Marathon 2013
Where do I start?
The answer to that is in April, 2003. Where I completed my very first marathon in Cleveland and finished in 5:14. And I was so happy to finish and knew nothing and trained alone and followed a plan out of a book I found. No GPS, no fancy gear. Just me wondering if it was possible to do something that hard, that far, that challenging.
Never, ever in a millionbilliontrillion years would I have believed you if you told me that in 10 years, I would miss qualifying for the Boston Marathon by 78 seconds. I would have stood there and told you I couldn't even imagine running 10 minute miles.
Ever.
I would never, ever have believed you.
__________________________________
Throughout this training session, Coach Emily was a Jedi Master at knowing exactly what to do to strip me down of all my ridiculous worries and just run. Some runs were a breeze; others literally left me gasping and just feeling raw. But I made it to the start line not only healthy, but feeling confident.
The last two weeks, I read up on some good books on the mental game: Racing Wisely by Sage Rountree, and Stillpower by Garret Kramer. I think they really did help a lot. I tried to prep myself for the fact--yes, fact--that this was going to be hard and hurt a lot, and if it didn't then I wasn't doing it right. This was the upper-limit physically of what I could do at this moment. I would either make it--barely--gasping and collapsing, or I would miss it much the same way.
I did not feel for one second that it wouldn't be close. The numbers weren't lying to me. I've consistently put in paces that put me on the cusp of achieving this difficult goal.
For the record, let's just state that this goal two years ago would have me qualifying at a 3:45:59. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't bitter that when I decided to really go for this, the B.A.A. decided it was getting "too easy" and lowered it almost 6 full minutes to 3:40:00. Or, to be more specific, more like 3:38. Because I believe that this rots. There is a HUGE difference between a 3:45:59 and a 3:38...at least in my world, that is. Yet, I get it, and it's the way it is, so now I needed to rise up and do it.
I stayed quiet on the days leading up to the race and tried to just focus as much as I could on the fact that I could do this. I believed 100% if I stayed in the moment, then I could do it.
Ana and I headed down Saturday afternoon after, in classic fashion, I picked her up at Chuck E Cheese from a birthday party. Totally our lives right now. We drove down in the pouring, cold rain, and were so thankful that the race wasn't Saturday. In fact, the weather looked pretty amazing for race day: cold and clear, with a little wind. I don't get my panties in a bunch over wind on a run because I always think how much more wind stinks on a ride. So the stars were aligned; my perfect running weather was going to be here.
Neither of us slept very well. At 4:45am, we got up and I had my oatmeal with craisins, some Belvita biscuits, and just a tiny bit of coffee. I also drank a good amount of water and hoped to get everything through the system in time. We made our way to the start corral and had to stand there for a half hour, which was no fun at all. My nerves started to get to me. I tried to stay warm by dancing around to the band playing, but I just wanted to freaking GO ALREADY. We found the 1:50 half marathon pacer so our plan was to stick to him for the first half. For some reason, this marathon that had 18,000 participants had pacers for 3:35 and 3:45, but told me twice how "3:40 is not a major Boston time" so they weren't offering that pace group. I was like, huh? In Cleveland we literally have pacers for every 5 minutes. Not gonna lie, that was a bit annoying. But we figured at least we'd have a half pacer to reign us in a bit and then we could just use our watches to keep us going.
Note: I turned off Auto-Lap on my Garmin so I could rely on their splits, because, let's be honest, that's all that counts, right? And unless you run tangents *perfectly*, every single marathon you EVER DO with a GPS watch will be "long." It's not. It's just that you ran zig-zaggy and stuff. The funny part? By my watch, I ran 26.4 miles and averaged an 8:23/mile. That, my friends, would have punched me a ticket to Boston. But unfortunately, my watch doesn't matter. Too bad I don't rule the universe...yet.
So, here's how it went:
Mile 1: 9:23 (I missed the first marker, so this was a little long)
Mile 2: 7:43 (a little short since I missed Mile 1)
Mile 3: 7:59
Mile 4: 8:09
Mile 5: 8:03
Mile 6: 8:01
Mile 7: 8:27
Mile 8: 8:13
Mile 9: 8:05
Mile 10: 8:14
Miles 1-10 flew by literally effortlessly. I felt amazing. We were banking time and I noticed we were even close to the 3:35 times since I grabbed a pace band to just wear so I could keep an eye on things. Ana and I hammed it up for the cameras, were high-fiving all the kids we saw, and enjoyed the awesome crowd support. Columbus really knows how to throw a marathon, for sure.
Mile 11: 8:20
Mile 12: 8:26
Mile 13: 8:26
We hit the half in 1:48--my second fastest half marathon, ever. And we felt amazing. I started to feel a little bit like maybe, just maybe, this was really going to happen.
Mile 14: 8:20
Mile 15: 8:12
I saw my parents at mile 15 or so and it was so good to see them! They had driven down just to cheer me on. I really appreciated it! We were still feeling great and just clicking off the miles with time to spare.
Mile 16 and 17 (somehow missed the marker!): 16:34, so about 8:17/mile
Around 17.5 we got to run in the OSU Stadium which was all kinds of awesome. I hadn't been there since I went to a game WAY back in 1998. It was empty, of course, but that might have made it even more impressive because I got to see just how huge it was.
Mile 18: 8:45
Mile 19: 8:31
Mile 20: 8:34
Right about at 18, something started to happen. My legs weren't responding as well and I was laboring. Oh hello, old friend Pain. Here you are. I was beginning to think you weren't coming to this party. Ana still looked strong and tried to encourage me, but I knew I needed to ride this out. Here's where I started to really do something different. In the past, when this happens, I definitely slow down or start getting negative. But I stayed in that moment in my head, and kept thinking "This too shall pass, this too shall pass" and before I knew it, it did. I had lost a little bit of time, but I could still see Ana nearby. At this point I thought, maybe it's best if I run my own race from here on out. I was still good to go for the sub 3:40, and I was afraid that if Ana was still on for a 3:36 or so, I might blow up and run out of steam. So I settled in around 20 and got ready to work.
And I worked.
Mile 21: 8:22
Mile 22: 8:28
Mile 23: 8:45
I fought back. I fought really, really hard. And I am so proud of how I handled those miles right there. That there NEVER would have happened before that day. I would have gotten discouraged and given up, but I felt like Here I am! I'm back! It's okay! I can still do this!
And then, I couldn't.
Mile 24: 8:28
The wheels fell off, my legs felt like bricks. Absolute bricks. And I knew that this wasn't a momentary rough patch; this was it. Nothing I was doing was working; my body simply was not responding. I tried everything. I growled. I swore--loudly. I felt badly that there were little kids around to witness the animal I was turning into.
(Note to all parents of young kids out there: do NOT, if at all possible, spectate at Mile 24. It AIN'T PRETTY. NO ONE IS MAKING SENSE OR KNOWS THEIR NAME OR HAS ANY CONTROL OF THEIR BODILY FUNCTIONS.)
I tried music. I tried no music. I vaguely remember some people dressed up like chefs around Mile 24's aid station (Kroger? Or something like that?) and they were handing out oranges. I grabbed an orange and some flat coke, and promptly spit it out all over myself and, I'm pretty sure, the person in front of me.
Nothing. I was out.
I kept going.
I looked at my watch and did the math: if I could just hold 9 minute miles, I could do it. How on earth could I not hold 9 minute miles? I can do that in my sleep. I have this. I still have this. It's not going to slip away.
Except that it was.
I gritted my teeth--literally. My face must have been contorted up. I looked and felt like a rabid animal. I was NOT GOING TO LET THIS HAPPEN. My legs simply had to catch up to my heart, and that was the end of the story. I leaned forward, I closed my eyes, I prayed. Please, please. Please legs, go.
And no matter what I did, they didn't go.
Mile 25: 9:08
At mile 25, in my delirious stupor, I decided that what must be making me slow was my nice, fleece-lined 2XU arm warmers! That MUST BE IT! So I peeled them off and...threw them on some guy's front lawn. Because, you know, THAT was TOTALLY the problem.
I still can't believe I did that. My poor arm warmers. I'm out like $40. That's how freaking out of it I was.
I made the turn and saw Mile 26. I looked at my watch and saw 3:39. And you know what I thought?
I CAN STILL DO THIS! I CAN DO 0.2 MILES IN 1 MINUTE! I CAN DO IT!
This is how out of it I was at this point. Do you know what I'd have to do to make that happen? I do now, because I looked it up. That would have to be a 5-minute mile pace.
But I ran as fast as I could, which must have looked awful, because now I was delirious, could barely move, pretty sure I barely knew where I was, and let's be honest, wasn't in any kind of shape to run the required 5 minute mile pace to make that BQ happen.
Mile 26.2: 11:17, average pace 9:21
But I still had hope. I never once gave up hope in this race. Not until the end, when I crossed the finish line, collapsed into the arms of two volunteers who had to steady me because I couldn't stand alone, and walked to the side of the road where I sat down, looked at my watch, and cried.
3:41.18
I cried. I didn't even have many tears coming out, but I wrapped myself in my mylar blanket and just cried.
I cried because I took off 17:40 from my best marathon ever. EVER. I took almost 18 minutes off my best marathon ever, and that is not easy to do. People don't just do that. I worked so hard, so, so hard.
But it still wasn't quite good enough. And I was disappointed. And happy. And elated. And crushed.
I found Ana, and it turns out she ran into some rough patches, too. She wasn't sure if she made it, but we checked and she did: by 17 seconds. Which yes, we all know is no longer enough (again, that's B.S. I'm sorry, it is.), but still, she made it, and I'm so proud of her.
In the evolution of me as a marathoner (is that even a real thing? I sure don't feel like one...I feel like a triathlete who poses as a runner from time to time), it looks like this:
2003, 5:14
2005, 4:19
2008, 3:58.58 (so pretty much 3:59)
2011, 4:05
2013, 3:41
Pause for a moment and think about that, because I am now. I was a solidly back-of-the-pack marathoner when I started 10 years ago. Now, I'm 36. I have two small kids. I work full time. And somehow, I just posted the best marathon time of my life, and arguably the best race of my life. The race where I showed more grit and determination than I ever had in my 20s, when I had a heck of a lot more time on my hands. I raced this marathon like a boss, and I will not apologize to the B.A.A. for that. Their new policy targets all the Me's out there, and complaining about it will get me nowhere. I just need to use it to make me better.
I already have.
I allowed myself yesterday to wallow just a bit and have a few tears. And now that's done.
Because, you guys, EIGHTEEN MINUTES.
No one--I don't care WHO you are or WHAT your story is--no one is EVER allowed to be sad after a nearly 18 minute PR. It's just unreal, and it's amazing. And I am really, really proud of it.
I simply can't allow my heartache over missing the qualifying time to overshadow the unbelievable progress that I made in this race. Really. I honestly can hardly believe it.
The clock should never be an enemy of the journey.
I don't know what is next for me quite yet. I have a few ideas, and of course, one of them is redemption in the spring. But I've made a promise to myself not to make any decisions until I can walk normally and sit on the toilet like a normal person.
I got home and got mobbed by newly-toothless Bug (that day!) and Bean and literally toppled over with the love I got when I walked through the door. I could not have made it to this start line, let alone the finish, without them.
Thank you to Matt, who thinks I am a little crazy for all this but supports me 100% no matter what. For making me pancakes to eat with everyone when I walked in from my long runs, for doing extra laundry for me, for picking the kids up so I could squeeze in a run. For holding me Sunday night while I needed to just have one more good, hard, cry. And then for getting me two different kinds of Mitchell's Ice Cream and some flowers.
To my parents, who drove all the way down to catch a glimpse of me for a combined 97 seconds. They are my biggest fans and I'm so grateful for their support.
To my coach, Emily, who knows just what to say and do and pushes me really hard, but lets me balance, too. I've seen this amazing progress since I've been working with you, and there's a reason for that. There's no way I could have done this without you. Thank you.
To Ana, who will always be one of my running soulmates and also a pretty amazing friend, and who is the perfect model of grace and inner strength. Always, but especially over the past two weeks.
To my other running girls, Kim and Katie. So proud of all your accomplishments and so honored to be your running partner.
To my team, who cheered me on all day and always make me laugh.
To my students, who suggested great songs for my playlist and think I'm slightly nuts.
It's been an 10 year journey and a few thousand miles so far. I may need a few hundred miles more, but I know now that I will get there.
It's just a matter of time.
The answer to that is in April, 2003. Where I completed my very first marathon in Cleveland and finished in 5:14. And I was so happy to finish and knew nothing and trained alone and followed a plan out of a book I found. No GPS, no fancy gear. Just me wondering if it was possible to do something that hard, that far, that challenging.
Never, ever in a millionbilliontrillion years would I have believed you if you told me that in 10 years, I would miss qualifying for the Boston Marathon by 78 seconds. I would have stood there and told you I couldn't even imagine running 10 minute miles.
Ever.
I would never, ever have believed you.
__________________________________
Throughout this training session, Coach Emily was a Jedi Master at knowing exactly what to do to strip me down of all my ridiculous worries and just run. Some runs were a breeze; others literally left me gasping and just feeling raw. But I made it to the start line not only healthy, but feeling confident.
The last two weeks, I read up on some good books on the mental game: Racing Wisely by Sage Rountree, and Stillpower by Garret Kramer. I think they really did help a lot. I tried to prep myself for the fact--yes, fact--that this was going to be hard and hurt a lot, and if it didn't then I wasn't doing it right. This was the upper-limit physically of what I could do at this moment. I would either make it--barely--gasping and collapsing, or I would miss it much the same way.
I did not feel for one second that it wouldn't be close. The numbers weren't lying to me. I've consistently put in paces that put me on the cusp of achieving this difficult goal.
For the record, let's just state that this goal two years ago would have me qualifying at a 3:45:59. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't bitter that when I decided to really go for this, the B.A.A. decided it was getting "too easy" and lowered it almost 6 full minutes to 3:40:00. Or, to be more specific, more like 3:38. Because I believe that this rots. There is a HUGE difference between a 3:45:59 and a 3:38...at least in my world, that is. Yet, I get it, and it's the way it is, so now I needed to rise up and do it.
I stayed quiet on the days leading up to the race and tried to just focus as much as I could on the fact that I could do this. I believed 100% if I stayed in the moment, then I could do it.
Ana and I headed down Saturday afternoon after, in classic fashion, I picked her up at Chuck E Cheese from a birthday party. Totally our lives right now. We drove down in the pouring, cold rain, and were so thankful that the race wasn't Saturday. In fact, the weather looked pretty amazing for race day: cold and clear, with a little wind. I don't get my panties in a bunch over wind on a run because I always think how much more wind stinks on a ride. So the stars were aligned; my perfect running weather was going to be here.
Neither of us slept very well. At 4:45am, we got up and I had my oatmeal with craisins, some Belvita biscuits, and just a tiny bit of coffee. I also drank a good amount of water and hoped to get everything through the system in time. We made our way to the start corral and had to stand there for a half hour, which was no fun at all. My nerves started to get to me. I tried to stay warm by dancing around to the band playing, but I just wanted to freaking GO ALREADY. We found the 1:50 half marathon pacer so our plan was to stick to him for the first half. For some reason, this marathon that had 18,000 participants had pacers for 3:35 and 3:45, but told me twice how "3:40 is not a major Boston time" so they weren't offering that pace group. I was like, huh? In Cleveland we literally have pacers for every 5 minutes. Not gonna lie, that was a bit annoying. But we figured at least we'd have a half pacer to reign us in a bit and then we could just use our watches to keep us going.
Note: I turned off Auto-Lap on my Garmin so I could rely on their splits, because, let's be honest, that's all that counts, right? And unless you run tangents *perfectly*, every single marathon you EVER DO with a GPS watch will be "long." It's not. It's just that you ran zig-zaggy and stuff. The funny part? By my watch, I ran 26.4 miles and averaged an 8:23/mile. That, my friends, would have punched me a ticket to Boston. But unfortunately, my watch doesn't matter. Too bad I don't rule the universe...yet.
So, here's how it went:
Mile 1: 9:23 (I missed the first marker, so this was a little long)
Mile 2: 7:43 (a little short since I missed Mile 1)
Mile 3: 7:59
Mile 4: 8:09
Mile 5: 8:03
Mile 6: 8:01
Mile 7: 8:27
Mile 8: 8:13
Mile 9: 8:05
Mile 10: 8:14
Miles 1-10 flew by literally effortlessly. I felt amazing. We were banking time and I noticed we were even close to the 3:35 times since I grabbed a pace band to just wear so I could keep an eye on things. Ana and I hammed it up for the cameras, were high-fiving all the kids we saw, and enjoyed the awesome crowd support. Columbus really knows how to throw a marathon, for sure.
Mile 11: 8:20
Mile 12: 8:26
Mile 13: 8:26
We hit the half in 1:48--my second fastest half marathon, ever. And we felt amazing. I started to feel a little bit like maybe, just maybe, this was really going to happen.
Mile 14: 8:20
Mile 15: 8:12
I saw my parents at mile 15 or so and it was so good to see them! They had driven down just to cheer me on. I really appreciated it! We were still feeling great and just clicking off the miles with time to spare.
Around 17.5 we got to run in the OSU Stadium which was all kinds of awesome. I hadn't been there since I went to a game WAY back in 1998. It was empty, of course, but that might have made it even more impressive because I got to see just how huge it was.
Mile 18: 8:45
Mile 19: 8:31
Mile 20: 8:34
Right about at 18, something started to happen. My legs weren't responding as well and I was laboring. Oh hello, old friend Pain. Here you are. I was beginning to think you weren't coming to this party. Ana still looked strong and tried to encourage me, but I knew I needed to ride this out. Here's where I started to really do something different. In the past, when this happens, I definitely slow down or start getting negative. But I stayed in that moment in my head, and kept thinking "This too shall pass, this too shall pass" and before I knew it, it did. I had lost a little bit of time, but I could still see Ana nearby. At this point I thought, maybe it's best if I run my own race from here on out. I was still good to go for the sub 3:40, and I was afraid that if Ana was still on for a 3:36 or so, I might blow up and run out of steam. So I settled in around 20 and got ready to work.
And I worked.
Mile 21: 8:22
Mile 22: 8:28
Mile 23: 8:45
I fought back. I fought really, really hard. And I am so proud of how I handled those miles right there. That there NEVER would have happened before that day. I would have gotten discouraged and given up, but I felt like Here I am! I'm back! It's okay! I can still do this!
And then, I couldn't.
Mile 24: 8:28
The wheels fell off, my legs felt like bricks. Absolute bricks. And I knew that this wasn't a momentary rough patch; this was it. Nothing I was doing was working; my body simply was not responding. I tried everything. I growled. I swore--loudly. I felt badly that there were little kids around to witness the animal I was turning into.
(Note to all parents of young kids out there: do NOT, if at all possible, spectate at Mile 24. It AIN'T PRETTY. NO ONE IS MAKING SENSE OR KNOWS THEIR NAME OR HAS ANY CONTROL OF THEIR BODILY FUNCTIONS.)
I tried music. I tried no music. I vaguely remember some people dressed up like chefs around Mile 24's aid station (Kroger? Or something like that?) and they were handing out oranges. I grabbed an orange and some flat coke, and promptly spit it out all over myself and, I'm pretty sure, the person in front of me.
Nothing. I was out.
I kept going.
I looked at my watch and did the math: if I could just hold 9 minute miles, I could do it. How on earth could I not hold 9 minute miles? I can do that in my sleep. I have this. I still have this. It's not going to slip away.
Except that it was.
I gritted my teeth--literally. My face must have been contorted up. I looked and felt like a rabid animal. I was NOT GOING TO LET THIS HAPPEN. My legs simply had to catch up to my heart, and that was the end of the story. I leaned forward, I closed my eyes, I prayed. Please, please. Please legs, go.
And no matter what I did, they didn't go.
Mile 25: 9:08
At mile 25, in my delirious stupor, I decided that what must be making me slow was my nice, fleece-lined 2XU arm warmers! That MUST BE IT! So I peeled them off and...threw them on some guy's front lawn. Because, you know, THAT was TOTALLY the problem.
I still can't believe I did that. My poor arm warmers. I'm out like $40. That's how freaking out of it I was.
I made the turn and saw Mile 26. I looked at my watch and saw 3:39. And you know what I thought?
I CAN STILL DO THIS! I CAN DO 0.2 MILES IN 1 MINUTE! I CAN DO IT!
This is how out of it I was at this point. Do you know what I'd have to do to make that happen? I do now, because I looked it up. That would have to be a 5-minute mile pace.
But I ran as fast as I could, which must have looked awful, because now I was delirious, could barely move, pretty sure I barely knew where I was, and let's be honest, wasn't in any kind of shape to run the required 5 minute mile pace to make that BQ happen.
Mile 26.2: 11:17, average pace 9:21
But I still had hope. I never once gave up hope in this race. Not until the end, when I crossed the finish line, collapsed into the arms of two volunteers who had to steady me because I couldn't stand alone, and walked to the side of the road where I sat down, looked at my watch, and cried.
3:41.18
I cried. I didn't even have many tears coming out, but I wrapped myself in my mylar blanket and just cried.
I cried because I took off 17:40 from my best marathon ever. EVER. I took almost 18 minutes off my best marathon ever, and that is not easy to do. People don't just do that. I worked so hard, so, so hard.
But it still wasn't quite good enough. And I was disappointed. And happy. And elated. And crushed.
I found Ana, and it turns out she ran into some rough patches, too. She wasn't sure if she made it, but we checked and she did: by 17 seconds. Which yes, we all know is no longer enough (again, that's B.S. I'm sorry, it is.), but still, she made it, and I'm so proud of her.
In the evolution of me as a marathoner (is that even a real thing? I sure don't feel like one...I feel like a triathlete who poses as a runner from time to time), it looks like this:
2003, 5:14
2005, 4:19
2008, 3:58.58 (so pretty much 3:59)
2011, 4:05
2013, 3:41
Pause for a moment and think about that, because I am now. I was a solidly back-of-the-pack marathoner when I started 10 years ago. Now, I'm 36. I have two small kids. I work full time. And somehow, I just posted the best marathon time of my life, and arguably the best race of my life. The race where I showed more grit and determination than I ever had in my 20s, when I had a heck of a lot more time on my hands. I raced this marathon like a boss, and I will not apologize to the B.A.A. for that. Their new policy targets all the Me's out there, and complaining about it will get me nowhere. I just need to use it to make me better.
I already have.
I allowed myself yesterday to wallow just a bit and have a few tears. And now that's done.
Because, you guys, EIGHTEEN MINUTES.
No one--I don't care WHO you are or WHAT your story is--no one is EVER allowed to be sad after a nearly 18 minute PR. It's just unreal, and it's amazing. And I am really, really proud of it.
I simply can't allow my heartache over missing the qualifying time to overshadow the unbelievable progress that I made in this race. Really. I honestly can hardly believe it.
The clock should never be an enemy of the journey.
I don't know what is next for me quite yet. I have a few ideas, and of course, one of them is redemption in the spring. But I've made a promise to myself not to make any decisions until I can walk normally and sit on the toilet like a normal person.
I got home and got mobbed by newly-toothless Bug (that day!) and Bean and literally toppled over with the love I got when I walked through the door. I could not have made it to this start line, let alone the finish, without them.
Thank you to Matt, who thinks I am a little crazy for all this but supports me 100% no matter what. For making me pancakes to eat with everyone when I walked in from my long runs, for doing extra laundry for me, for picking the kids up so I could squeeze in a run. For holding me Sunday night while I needed to just have one more good, hard, cry. And then for getting me two different kinds of Mitchell's Ice Cream and some flowers.
To my parents, who drove all the way down to catch a glimpse of me for a combined 97 seconds. They are my biggest fans and I'm so grateful for their support.
To my coach, Emily, who knows just what to say and do and pushes me really hard, but lets me balance, too. I've seen this amazing progress since I've been working with you, and there's a reason for that. There's no way I could have done this without you. Thank you.
To Ana, who will always be one of my running soulmates and also a pretty amazing friend, and who is the perfect model of grace and inner strength. Always, but especially over the past two weeks.
To my other running girls, Kim and Katie. So proud of all your accomplishments and so honored to be your running partner.
To my team, who cheered me on all day and always make me laugh.
To my students, who suggested great songs for my playlist and think I'm slightly nuts.
It's been an 10 year journey and a few thousand miles so far. I may need a few hundred miles more, but I know now that I will get there.
It's just a matter of time.
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