Some Assembly Required

Hair of the Dog

I could have called this post "Redemption" because I am feeling somewhat redeemed today with respect to the marathon fiasco of last October.  A few months ago, another family asked if we would like to go down to Huntington Beach for the Huntington Beach Marathon (aka "Surf City Marathon.")  We did.  My girlfriend Helen and I ran the half marathon while her husband ran the full.  Howard took on the kid marathon -- watching four kids in a hotel room all morning.

What seemed like a good idea two months ago became increasingly worrisome as the time approached.  I dreaded another repeat of the October misery. I kinda sorta trained but not really that much.  Moreover, a rain storm was predicted to move in early Sunday morning, just before the race start. 

For once, the weatherman got it right.  I awoke Sunday morning to the sound of palm trees whipping in the gale force winds and rain hitting the patio door in our hotel room.  It was 46 degrees.  It was dark.  Oh crap, it was absolutely disgusting out.  So much for the "typically sunny, 65 degree race conditions" touted on the race's web page.

Luckily I had packed my heavier wind jacket and a pair of running pants just in case.  I put those on, downed a cup of hot coffee and half a bagel and headed out to meet Helen.  Thank goodness I had her to commiserate with.  The twenty minutes we spent huddled together on the Pacific Coast Highway waiting for the race to start, getting soaked to the skin, were the worst.

But once the gun went off and we got underway, my spirits and my pace picked up.  Yes, it was as if someone were focusing a hose of water on us during the entire race.  Yes, the wind coming off the ocean was so strong we were constantly getting blown sideways -- first to the right, and then to the left after we made our turn.  Yes, my teeth chattered for the first 3 miles.

But there was also something funny about the whole thing.  Really, all you could do was laugh at the absurdity of it all.  Most people were good natured (except the few who came out in shorts and tank tops what were they thinking???)  And I kicked butt.  Yes, that's right.  I.  Kicked.  Butt.  In a 42 year-old mother of two kind of way at least.  I came in faster than my predicted best-case-scenario, even with the winds and rain, and I felt strong and good the entire race.  So, go figure. 

Today:  stiff, sore, a little tired, but still grinning!!

Here was Huntington Beach the evening before the race, so deceptively peaceful:

I do not have any pictures of the race or the race morning because I don't own a waterproof camera and believe me, you would have needed one.

Love Letter

Dear Mr. Advil,

You and I have been acquainted for many, many years now.  But our encounters have been fleeting, often somewhat thoughtless, like a kind word in passing.  The last two days, however, have brought us together in a whole new way.  From the bottom of my heart (and my aching quadriceps) I thank you for really being there for me, every 4 to 6 hours, without complaining. 

Like a true friend, you have stood by quietly, waiting to offer solace through the barrier of your childproof cap.  You have gotten me out of bed in the morning, in and out of the car, and over 6 inch curbs I never noticed before.  You have made walking the dog just barely possible.  You have never once sniggered as I winced, slowly lowering myself into a chair.   

I know this affair will not last long.  So I take this opportunity to express my gratitude now, before you return again to the dusty upper shelf of the bathroom cabinet.  I won't soon forget your calming presence during my days of need.

Yours with deepest affection,

Hope

26.2 Miles Later

Yesterday, I ran the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco.  I am going to start off my marathon recap by making a few positive statements, the import of which should become apparent as I fill in the details.  First, I started the race.  Second, I finished the race.  Third, I ran the entire way.

When I offer the fact that I started the race as a positive statement, it is because I woke up feeling terrible the morning of the race.  Actually, I didn't really wake up because I had been up all night long.  That's right -- I couldn't sleep at all.  For reasons still unclear to me, I lay in my nice comfy hotel room bed and tossed and turned all night.  It was awful and it just kept getting more awful as each hour painfully passed and I became more and more aware that I was ruining my race before it even started.  This kind of behavior is really unusual for me and I can only guess that somewhere deep inside I was just scared to death of this stupid race.  True, I had a really busy day on Saturday, juggling lots of balls so to speak.  I know I was somewhat preoccupied with the logistics of waking up super early, getting my stuff organized into the bag I would check with the hotel concierge and the bag I would check with the Nike people for pick-up at the end of the race, and not forgetting things I wanted with me.  But I didn't think I was all that nervous about actually running the race.  Who knows.  I probably never will understand it myself.

At 5:00 I heard the person next door get into the shower.  Seriously, who showers before running a marathon?  But anyway, at that point I had completely given up on getting even an hour of sleep so I got up, too, made some coffee and tried to assess what I was going to do.  I felt terrible, as one usually does after being unable to sleep all night.  I thought about just bagging the whole thing.  It seemed impossible and stupid to run a marathon on no sleep.  But I had trained for 4 months, I was two blocks from the start of the race, and I was awake.  I put on my gear, finished my coffee, grabbed my bags and left the room. 

I checked my bag at the hotel, then hit the street to find the Nike bag check.  It was pitch dark but there were people everywhere.  I could hear the loud music and someone on a sound system coming from Union Square, the race start area.  I got to the bag check buses, at which point I took off my extra shirt and used my asma medicine.  (I don't normally have asma, but I have developed what my doctor calls "exercise induced asma" which makes me wheezy during heavy exertion.)  I checked my bag and headed to the Square.

I found myself in my designated starting block and then I waited for the race to start.  At this point, I was still wondering what I was doing.  I still felt terrible.  But I figured I may as well start the race and see what happened.  I ate an energy bar and drank my sport drink while the street filled up with more and more women waiting for the race to start.  On one level, this was pretty cool.  Most people were really excited.  It was still pitch dark but the music was booming around the square.  I felt bad for the normal people who were staying in the hotels around the square.  I'm sure they hadn't really bargained for the 6 a.m. pandemonium wake-up call during their visit to San Francisco.  After approximately an eternity, the race started.  It took about 8 minutes for my area to cross the start line and we were off. 

The first 3 miles were totally terrible for me.  I felt really bad.  I had a bad headache, my stomach was queasy and I kept getting the chills, either because it was cold or because I was exhausted, I'm not sure which.  I plodded along anyway since I wasn't actually sick or falling over or anything.  During that first few miles, the sun rose just as we reached the waterfront.  That was a nice moment.

By the time we got around to Crissy field, the sun was really up and I was starting to warm up.  Things were feeling a little bit better.  For some reason, the long hill up past the entrance to the Golden Gate bridge and into the Presidio felt pretty good.  I don't mind hills and I passed a lot of people on the way up.  I still didn't feel super but I made a quick potty stop and kept going.  This was a nice part of the race because the scenery was beautiful and we were getting views of the ocean. 

Eventually we reached the 10 mile mark.  I saw my time and calculated that I was running about 11 minute miles.  Ugh, so slow.  But I was afraid to try to speed up since I still didn't feel great and there was a lot of race left to go.  The hubby and kids planned to camp out between miles 15 and 16 so I started focusing on just getting through the next 6 miles to see my family.  We reached the split where the half-marathoners went right toward the finish line and we bore to the left.  A moment of willpower for me to stay left. 

Through the Golden Gate park, past a loud rock band and Nike handing out running socks.  Why give out running socks in the middle of race?  I didn't take any because I didn't want to carry socks for the next 12 miles.  I continued to focus on just getting to mile 15 where I would start looking for my kids.  Mile 15 passed.  Mile 16 passed.  No husband, no kids.  I decided that my husband must of thought he missed me.  We had figured I would be through mile 15 a lot earlier than I was.  Alright, so I regrouped mentally and said just 10 more miles.  10 miles is no big deal, I do it all the time.  I didn't feel great, but I didn't feel horrible any more and I figured that if I just kept to my 11 minute pace I would at least make it to the finish line.  I kept going.

We came out of the park, turned the corner and  started running down the Pacific Highway.  After about a quarter mile, there they were.  My kids started waving, my husband took some pictures.  I got all teared up and went over to hug each of my boys.  I told my husband I was having a really rough race and I was just trying to finish it.  He said not to worry and that I looked great.  I think he's a good lier. 

Off I went again, thinking just 10 more miles.  That was when the wind died and the sun started beating down.  There were no trees, no shade here.  It got really hot, really fast.  At mile 18 we hit a hill.  Faster runners were coming up the other side of the highway -- they only had two miles to go.  I still had to go all the way around Lake Merced.  Ugh. 

Mile 18 till about mile 20 were bad.  Really, really bad.  I was out of my gels, I felt hot and shaky.  The terrain was up and down.  I remember thinking this was the most horrible experience ever.  Ever.  I really wanted to walk for a while.  The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that walking would make the race take even longer and I just wanted to be finished so badly.  We hit an aid station just past mile 20.  I grabbed a huge handful of some kind of energy chews and they filled up my bottle with Gatorade.  I drank a lot of Gatorade and filled it again with water.  I kept going and somehow I felt a lot better.  At some point after that, I passed the pacer holding the 4:45 sign.  Well, I thought, at least that's something.  Another hill at mile 23 but not too bad.  At mile 24 I started mentally chanting, just two more miles.  It was going OK.  I was actually going to finish. 

At mile 25 I was so happy to have just one more mile.  Then I suddenly felt horrible again.  That last mile was probably the worst of the whole race.  I had nothing left.  Nothing.  It was one foot in front of the other.  I was desperately looking for the finish line.  Finally I saw it.  It seemed agonizingly slow but I finally reached it, crossed it.  Oh my god.  My watch said 4:45.  More than 30 minutes slower than I was hoping for.  But I could have cared less at that moment.

You would think that things would have started to improve at that point but they did not.  I literally stumbled through the finish line area, accepted my tee shirt and my finisher's necklace.  I grabbed a banana and wolfed it down and then took another one.  I took a water and started drinking.  I walked though and through and through the throngs of people.  It was still really, really hot out there beside the beach and all I could think about was getting into some shade and away from the crowds.  Finally at the very back of the finish area, I found the buses with all the checked bags.  I found the bus I had put my bag on.  I needed my bag because my cell phone was in there and all I wanted to do was call my husband, figure out where they were and get out of there.

Standing there waiting for them to find my bag, I got really dizzy and felt queasy again.  I had to sit down on the pavement.  I drank some more water and dumped half the bottle across the back of my neck.  It helped a little.  When they finally handed me my bag, I dug out the cell phone and dialed my husband.  I told him where to find me, then got up and walked in some small circles.  He found me pretty quickly and I had him walk me to the bathrooms because I suddenly need to go.  We got some more water and headed for the car.

Of course, the car was about a mile away.  It felt like a death march.  I was shaking and light headed but I remember that I kept saying I couldn't believe I finished.  During the walk, I explained to my husband what had happened and how I just ran a marathon on no sleep.  We found the car and I stripped off my shoes and soaking socks, put on sandals, and then I stripped off my shirt and put on a dry one.  I had no modesty any more but I don't think there was anyone on the street anyway. 

In the car, out of the sun, I started to feel a little bit better.  I closed my eyes and fell asleep on the way home.  Hubby had to wake me up.  We ate something, I took a shower and got into bed.  I iced my legs and then went back to sleep for a few hours.  I think I was more exhausted than anything else.  When I woke up later, I felt much better and after dinner I felt even better.   Today, I'm pretty sore but the damage isn't too bad. 

So, lessons learned?  Sometimes things just don't go as you plan.  A huge part of running is mental.  For the worse, like when you stay awake all night before the race starts.  But also for the better because starting a marathon on no sleep and feeling terrible takes a lot of willpower.  It definitely wasn't the experience I was going for, but I guess I should be somewhat proud of finishing at all under the circumstances.   Yeah, I think I am.

For what its worth, hubby snapped a few pictures of me as I passed:

And there I go, with 10 more miles ahead of me:

Suddenly Real

Drove up to the city today to pick up my bib and race packet for the Nike Women's Marathon on Sunday.  They have a huge tent set up in the middle of Union Square.  It was packed.  Amazing energy and lots of good vibes going on.  I wrote a note on the dedication board to my friend Lisa, who died of leukemia in January of 2006.  I can't believe its been that long already.  I see her sons weekly at soccer practice right now.  They are the same age as my kids.

I also learned that there will be 20,000 runners participating in the marathon and half marathon.  Twenty freaking thousand runners!!  Seriously, until I picked up my packet today, I had no idea this event is so huge.  I mean, I am number 1559 -- I had no clue until I saw someone with a packet bearing number 16,873.  I stopped with my mouth open, turned around and went back to the information booth, and squeakily asked how many runners are registered.  Yep.  20,000. 

The two other marathons I ran were these little backwoods events with maybe a few hundred runners.  And by backwoods, I do mean that we were running for miles through the woods with no one standing around cheering us on.  Just nature. 

I'm not so sure that I'm ready for the big hoopla on Sunday.  Part of me is excited and eager.  The other part if me is saying, holy shit, what have I gotten myself into.  I don't really want to bonk in front of thousands of spectators. 

I think it was that side that generated my dream about the marathon last night.  I found myself at the starting area about 15 minutes before the race.  However, I did not have my running belt, my sports drink, my iPod, my sunscreen or my gels with me.  Nothing.  I ran back to my hotel room to pick up those essential items.  In my room, I discovered -- my six-year-old son.  Apparently, I had brought him up to spend the night before the race.  However, my husband would be waiting for me at the end of the race.  I realized that I couldn't just leave my son there without an adult.  I couldn't run the race after all.

I wish I was making that dream up, but no, I really did dream exactly that.  So it was probably good for me today to see all the different women running this race.  All shapes and ages and sizes.  What's the worse thing that could happen?  So I walk the last few miles, right?  Right?  Right.

Marathon countdown

Well, my marathon is a little more than two weeks away and at the risk of jinxing myself, I'm going to say that I think its going to be OK.  My training has run into several road blocks -- a week lost to a migraine, interruptions due to travel and kids being at home, etc.  On the whole, I think I've completed about three quarters of what I would have liked to do.  When we got back from Maui a month ago I was seriously thinking I might need to give myself permission to not run this race.  However.  Shortly after reaching that mental place, I had a great long run and the rest of the training has been pretty good, if a little painful, which I remember as normal.  So here I am saying, "Yes, I think its going to be OK." 

I ran my last marathon exactly ten years ago.  It turned out I was (barely) pregnant with Sam at the time and it also turned out that was my last marathon -- until now.  When I started this marathon venture last Spring with some pre-training mileage build-up, my goals were:  (1)  get back into a higher level of running fitness, (2)  lower my blood pressure, and (3) maybe match my last marathon time of 3:58.  I always thought I held back too much on that last marathon and that I could have come in well under that. 

So lets take a tally.  Goal number one: definitely met!  Score!  Goal number two: hasn't seemed to make much difference.  Disappointed.  Goal number three:  doesn't seem very likely anymore, but we'll see how it goes on race day.  And frankly I'm not sure it matters that much.

With those confessions, I am now off to do a "tempo run" on this lovely October afternoon.  Happy trails!

Thanks, old friends

Next week I begin my official training for the Nike Women's Marathon at the end of October.  Over the last few months, I've been building up my mileage in preparation for the 16 week training program.  These are the shoes that have gotten me to this point.  They really do feel like old friends, worn and scuffed but still really comfortable.  Thanks gals, I'll miss you.

In keeping with my personal tradition, I will start the real training with a new pair of shoes.  Two new pairs to be precise.  By the time the marathon arrives, they should be broken in just right and ready for the big day. 

When I was in the local running store looking for new shoes, the young sales guy was helping another woman who was obviously not a runner.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course.  She was asking lots and lots of questions about lots of different shoes and this guy was answering each one politely and patiently.  Finally, as she was walking around in one pair, she asked, "And how do I keep them clean?"  I saw the sales guy kind of pause, then he glanced at me, and at my shoes (the ones above) and for the quickest second we exchanged a little raised eyebrow. 

This marathon will be nearly 10 years to the day since my last marathon.  If you do the math (my oldest son was born exactly 9 years ago) you'll figure out why.  I'm feeling a bit intimidated but at the same time, excited to have a training goal.  This will also be the first marathon I've trained for without a human companion.  Thank goodness for the iPod and audio books.  I've already listened to 6 books in the last three months and I figure by the time the marathon is here I'll have expanded my "reading" a whole lot more.  Hill repeats, here I come!