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Deja vu

17 Mar

Last year, I won a blog giveaway for an LA Marathon race bib.  And with 5 weeks of “training,” I ran my sixth marathon in the absolute worst weather conditions I’ve ever run in — cold, rainy, and worst of all, windy.  It was brutal, but epic.  Of the seven marathons I ran in 2011, it was, by far, the most memorable.

With that said, dear universe, that doesn’t mean I want to relive it ever again!

You guessed it.  Tomorrow’s weather forecast for the LA Marathon 2012 is looking pretty rough.  Cold, rainy, and windy.  All I can do is laugh.

Note to self: buy rain gear.

Note to self #2: quit registering for the LA Marathon.

Anyhow, here goes nothing.

LA Marathon Part 4: Race Report

26 Mar
My soggy shoes are about dry from Sunday’s LA Marathon-in-a-monsoon, my mom returned to Ohio after her (too short) week-long visit, and I’m back to work with business as usual… Except it seems I may be suffering from running’s version of postpartum depression.  I just googled “post-marathon blues” and it’s legit.  I’m not making this up, I swear!  While my Google search produced some articles with suggestions for overcoming the blues, I’ve got my own plan:
  1. I’m taking this week to recover (which, so far, includes lots of food because I have a monstrous appetite).
  2. I’ve signed up for the OC Marathon on May 1st, which is less than six weeks away!
  3. I’m compulsively looking at race photos, which make me laugh, because, gosh, I ran a marathon in a monsoon!
Saturday night, I was a bundle of nerves and anxious energy.  I have yet to get a good night’s sleep the night before a marathon, but I have the best husband in the world, who rubbed my back until his arms were about to fall off and soon after he drifted to sleep, I slipped into dreamland myself.  Naturally, I dreamt about the race and rain and woke up to my alarm at 3:00am.  Weather.com reported a 100% chance of “Heavy Rain/Wind” for LA, but I was still hoping it’d be wrong, so I didn’t think much about my race gear other than to throw on my new Halo visor to keep the rain out of my eyes.  We all packed dry clothes to change into, made sure there were a couple umbrellas in the car and took off for LA.  
The drive went fast (Jared has heavy feet) and we were approaching the Stadium exit by 5:30am, where the traffic brought us to a dead stop.  I dozed on-and-off as we sat in the mess.  At 6:30am, Jared commented that we’d moved three tenths of a mile in the past hour, at which point I started to freak out.  The race was scheduled to start at 7:20am and we couldn’t even get off the highway!  Runners started jumping out of their cars and jogging up the shoulder of the highway.  I estimated it was still two, maybe three miles to the start and was really reluctant to follow suit.  A three mile jog up a hill before running 26.2 miles?  No thanks! 
At 6:50am, the police came along, directing runners to get back in their cars and ushering traffic through the stop lights and up to the stadium, where mom and Jared were able to drop me off at about 7:30am.  I hustled over to the Start Line, where the race announcer was gabbing away, informing us that the start had been delayed.  I huddled in with the 9:00 minute/mile group, eyeing the other runners decked out in plastic bags and rain gear.  It was cool and windy.  The skies were overcast and looked ominous, but it wasn’t raining and I was foolishly hopeful. 
Finally, the race started (my guess is it was close to 7:50am) and slowly I made my way across the Start Line, pressed the Start button on my Garmin and as though it has been on a timer, the clouds opened up, pelting giant rain drops on the mass of runners below.  Everyone around me groaned and complained, but I had to smile. 
The first mile was a crowded mess.  Runners were peeling off their trash bags and plastic ponchos, dropping them in the street for other runners to dodge, trample or trip over.  The rain continued to spill from the sky and my long-sleeved cotton throw away shirt absorbed each drop, but I was reluctant to ditch it because I wasn’t warmed up yet. 

I passed under the giant, inflatable arch-way marking Mile 1 with 10:38 on my Garmin and knew I wanted to pick up the pace; however, the crowd wasn’t thinning out and so many people were walking.  During my pre-race hysteria, I’d decided to steal my friend, Kimberly’s idea of dedicating each mile to someone and Mile 1 was dedicated to my dad, who is also a runner and marathoner.  Instead of being frustrated by having to dodge walkers, I thought about my dad.  I reminisced about the runs and races we’ve done together and I knew he’d be thinking about me from 2000 miles away.  The throw away shirt I was wearing was from the Miller Lite Lope 5k we ran together in 2007 and I thought I’d take it off and chuck it when I got to Mile 2, but I was still really cold and kept it on.

Mile 2 was dedicated to my awesome in-laws, affectionately known as “Moo” and “Poo,” who braved the rain to watch Jared and me run the Flying Pig Marathon last year, which is the only other time I’ve run in the rain.  I was growing increasingly nervous about the fact that it was much, much colder in LA, not to mention windier.  
At Mile 3, I was completely surprised to spot my mom and Jared as I came around a bend and we hollered and cheered for each other.  Despite the nasty weather, there were a lot of spectators along the course and I thought of Unkey with a great big smile, certain that he would’ve been there in a heartbeat.  I kept thinking: who’s crazier?  Us for running a marathon in the rain?  Or them for spectating a marathon in the rain?  I’d managed to pick up the pace despite the fact that I was still waiting to warm-up, but I had yet to hit a good groove and lock into “cruise control” for the long haul.  I was already starting to feel nervous.
Mile 4 brought a steep incline that slowed me down and forced several runners to a walk, which felt demoralizing so early in the race.  I thought of my niece, Clara, who still allows me to call her by her childhood nickname of “Peanut” and I ran that hill.  I just kept going and going, not allowing the option of walking to creep into my brain, but by the time I hit Mile 5, it was pouring and I was beat.  I peeled off my drenched throw away shirt and ran with it in my arms for a few minutes, absorbing some final bits of strength from my dad, then chucked it at a trash can. 

I shifted my thoughts to my San Diego “family.”  I remembered seeing Amanda during last year’s San Diego Marathon and thought of the nine month marathon she just went through bringing along the newest addition to our little family, Zoe, who is nearly 2 months old now.  I smiled at the thought of my own future mini-humans holding signs at races that say: “Run, mommy, run!“  Those signs always melt my heart. 
And then things started to unravel.  I started to panic at the thought of having 21 miles to go.  The rain was coming down harder and harder.  I was drenched to the bone and painfully cold.  Growing up in Ohio, I used to complain that I was “allergic to winter” because when my hands get cold, my joints ache.  Not only were my hands wet and pruney, but they were throbbing from the cold.  I was only five miles in and thinking of exit strategies: Just keep going until you see mom and Jared again, then you can bail.  And then I’d cut myself short, thinking: Focus on the song that’s playing.  Think about what you’re going to have for dinner.  Think about how great your feeling!  There’s no pain in your IT band!  No pain!  Think about anything but quitting.  
Mile 1: 10:35
Mile 2: 9:22
Mile 3: 9:24
Mile 4: 9:04
Mile 5: 10:04
Mile 6: 10:00
When I crossed under the marker for Mile 6, I thought of Jared and felt a wave of energy and optimism.  And I thought of a quote I’d just read from my friend, Amie’s Facebook profile: “We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong.  The amount of work is the same” (Carlos Casteneda).  At that point, I decided not to give in to the suffering.  No matter how difficult it got, I was going to smile and sure enough, I churned out a great mile.
 

Mile 7 was dedicated to my brother, Ryan, and even though he probably had absolutely no idea that the marathon was going on, I felt his support.  It was only appropriate that I would pass by a runner dressed as a Ninja Turtle during Ryan’s mile (he was dressed as Raphael, if you were curious).  Again, to my surprise, I spotted my mom and Jared, waving wildly and smiling happily. 
When I reached Mile 8, I thought of Pasha, who’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had (that I’m not married to).  We have a bond that’s beyond words, so I won’t even try to go there, but I spent this mile thinking about our tiny, matching tattoos.  It was just over eight years ago that we walked uptown from our dorm room, in the snow and slush, wearing flip-flops, of course, to have those stars carved on our feet for life.  When people have asked about it since then, I like to say it’s a reminder to keep my head up.  And so I spent that mile with my eyes focused straight ahead, splashing through puddles and choosing to remember only the good parts of college.
It was about this time that I realized I hadn’t taken any of my Clif Shots yet and I fumbled with frozen hands to get my Spibelt unzipped and the gel packet opened.  I had the Double Espresso flavor that I received from Clif in the mail and I think that double dose of caffeine really helped me finally find the “groove” I’d been looking for since Mile 3.  The pouring rain tapered off to a drizzle and I was in cruise control-mode, trucking along on what I consider a runner’s auto-pilot.  Sadly, I forgot to think about my Mile 9 dedication to Sully.  As I crossed under the Mile 10 marker, I heard my mom and Jared calling for me for a third time!  I am so my mother’s daughter because we were both smiling so big we had tears in our eyes and could do little more than smile and wave at each other, while Jared jumped up and down yelling: “GO, CHUCK!!!!  I LOVE YOU, CHUCK!!!!”  He ran alongside me, snapping photos while I choked up, blew him kisses and then, ran on. 
Almost as soon as we parted ways, I spotted a couple dogs and immediately thought of Sully.  Then I realized Mile 10 was for Amy and Jeff, so I ran along thinking of all three of them and laying down my fastest, most effortless mile of the day.  
 
Mile 7: 9:07
Mile 8: 9:29
Mile 9: 9:30
Mile 10: 8:59 
Mile 11: 8:57
The rain picked up again for Mile 11, but I was thinking about Ali and grooving along to Lady Gaga.  I splashed through puddles and smiled for the cameramen, who looked like swamp monsters covered in plastic from head to toe.  Mile 12 was dedicated to my college friends of “Taj,” who will be gathering for a long weekend reunion in Colorado in just 12 short weeks.  And before I knew it I was at Mile 13, where some oblivious moron was demoralizing us runners by shouting: “HALFWAY THERE!”  Yes, technically, the dude was correct.  He has a brain, passed his elementary math and is aware that half of 26 is 13, but when you’ve been running for more than two hours in miserable conditions, halfway there is daunting. 

Luckily, I shifted my focus to my curly-haired hero: my mom!  Having (unexpectedly) seen her and Jared at Miles 3, 7, and 10, I found myself scanning the crowds of spectators for them.  While I didn’t spot them, this seemed to encourage more people to cheer for me and every time I heard someone yell “GO CHUCK!” I threw my numb, waterlogged fist in the air.  I recalled a quote my mom emailed me once upon a time: “Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass.  It’s about dancing in the rain,” so I did my best to “dance” through the rain, listening to Beach Boys and looking forward to the massive bowl of Yogurtland I planned on enjoying with my mom (who blessed me with this sweet tooth–or sweet teeth, as I like to call them).
Mile 14 was for Kimberly, who ran her first full marathon last December, where I was moved to tears cheering for her as she rounded the bend for that final 800 yard stretch to the finish line.  There’s something magical about those first steps past Mile 13–magical and courageous and overflowing with possibility. 
It was about here that I felt like I had to pee.  Portopotties were dispersed along the course, but they seemed few and far between and each time I approached a cluster of pots, there were lines with a half dozen runners waiting their turns.  I did not want to have to stop and I certainly didn’t want to stop and wait in a line just to tinkle.  So it was at that point that I decided if it came down to it, I would just pee myself.  I was soaked to the bone, running through flooded streets and rivers of water from overflowing sewers, so it’s not like I wasn’t already filthy and disgusting.  Peeing myself certainly wouldn’t be that big of a deal.  I used to think having a black toenail was a sign that you’re a true runner.  I laughed to myself, realizing that the willingness to pee yourself to save a couple minutes probably qualifies too.  Jared was outrageously disappointed that I never had to resort to this plan.
Mile 15 was my “mile in memory,” which I dedicated to loved ones lost.  I thought of my Nana, who was undoubtedly the strongest lady I’ve ever known.  She was also teeny-tiny, as in, four-foot-ten-tiny.  When you asked her for a snack, she’d give you a Pringle.  Yes, just one Pringle.  She’d eat one banana over the course of three days.  And she always had the nicest, self-manicured nails.  She’d probably shake her head at me for running marathons, but then again, I inherited a huge dose of my independence, stubbornness, guts and grit from her.  I thought of Jared’s Nana, which is pronounced “Nonna.”  My Nana was Nana, like (ba)nana.  Anyhow, Nana (Nonna) was an awesome lady and still lives on with her beautiful artwork hanging on the walls in our house.  We would’ve been good friends and I bet she would’ve given me as many Pringles as I wanted.  The third person I thought of was my “Auntie Sis,” who was my great aunt.  Auntie Sis would’ve been 100 years old last year and she would’ve LOVED to be a race spectator.  She was the cool old lady who loved going to airports just to people watch.  The smallest things in life were her greatest joys (like the basket of “buns” they serve at O’Charley’s) and she gave awesome, weird gifts she found in those catalogs most people just throw in recycling.  I’m pretty sure she gave my brother and I cat toys for Christmas one year and we didn’t have any pets.  
Mile 12: 9:11
Mile 13: 9:20
Mile 14: 9:26
Mile 15: 9:14
Mile 16: 9:27
I was relieved when I got to Mile 16.  So many people argue the last six miles are the hardest, but I find the first 16 to be a mental rollercoaster of: Can I do this?  Once I get to 16, I know there’s only 10 miles left and somehow, no matter how tired my body is, that’s reassurance that I’m on the downhill stretch.  I will make it.  For this marathon, I’d dedicated these final 10 miles to my 16 year old niece, Jessie, who has been battling cancer since 2001.  She’s had more surgeries, treatments, and recurrences than I can remember, but I definitely remember that autumn day in 2001 when I first learned of her diagnosis.  I remember how she miraculously survived that first brain surgery and how she’s beaten the odds time and time again with each new tumor.  I wondered what she was doing at that very moment that I was thinking of her, marveling at her strength and resilience, her courage and wisdom.  Running 26.2 miles is such a miniscule feat compared to what that child has been through. 
As I crossed Mile 17, I heard my mom and Jared cheering for me and spotted them as I approached a bend in the road.  I ran toward them, smiling, though I didn’t have the energy to wave wildly or pick up my pace like I had at the past three sightings.  I thought about running over to them and asking Jared for the shirt off his back.  I was so unbelievably cold.  But I was afraid if I stopped, I’d have a hard time getting going again or that I’d beg them to just let me quit.  So I ran on, trying to ignore the fact that I was starting to struggle.
A short while later it dawned on me that I needed fuel, so I slowed to an awkward hobble/jog while I fumbled with my Spibelt zipper.  I needed a gel, but my hands weren’t working at all.  They were useless numb stumps and maneuvering that zipper was almost a mission impossible.  It took several minutes, but I managed to grasp one of the gel packets in my frozen claws and used my teeth to rip the tab off.  I did my best to squeeze the gel out, but it was so cold that it had an abnormally thick consistency that I had to chew like cold, thick frosting.  I managed to consume about half of the packet before chucking it in a trash can on the side of the road.
I was relieved to hit Mile 18 because I’d gotten some fuel in me and felt confident that it would kick in and give me some oomph.  I cruised along thinking: Only eight more miles.  Only eight more miles.
I must’ve been in la-la land when I passed Mile 19, because this is where the Salonpas stations were set-up.  I had planned on saying hi to the rep I’d met at the expo, but I didn’t remember until I was long past their station.  At this point, I realized I wasn’t having any pains in my IT band, or anywhere else, for that matter.  It also dawned on me that this was the longest distance I’d run since the Long Beach Marathon on 10/17/2010, over five months ago.  If I hadn’t just run 19 miles, I would’ve jumped up in the air and clicked my heels together.  Instead, I just kept smiling like a big ol’ idiot, cheesing for every camera I spotted.  
Mile 17: 9:41
Mile 18: 9:44
Mile 19: 9:24
Mile 20: 9:32
When I hit Mile 20, my brain started playing tricks on me.  It told me I’d gone far enough and that I should take a break.  I walked a bit, promising myself it’d just be for a second.  I started running again as I approached a crowd of spectators and fist pumped the air as a few people cheered: “GO CHUCK!”  But as soon as I passed the crowd, I slowed back to a walk.  I played this back-and-forth game through Mile 21 and then Mile 22, clocking my first miles over ten minutes since the beginning of the race.  I was frustrated with myself and knew a PR (personal record) was slipping from my grasp if I didn’t pull it together.  I took my third of four gels that I had planned on taking and again, only managed to bully about half the junk out of the packet before giving up in frustration.
And just like a gift from heaven, the 4:15 pace group came shuffling along.  Just stick with them, I told myself.  They’ll be running 9:40 per mile and if you can just hang on to them, you can finish this puppy at (or close to) your goal.  Just stick with them. 
I hung onto their heels and passed them as they slowed to a walk at the next water station.  I shuffled ahead knowing they’d catch up to me again and I just kept going.  I was relieved to cross Mile 23 in under 10 minutes and continued to give myself pep talks.  Three miles.  That’s it.  You can do it.  Hang on. 
I didn’t look at my Garmin at all as I crossed Mile 24.  I was 100% focused on staying with the 4:15 pacers.  I had a permanent grin plastered across my face, which felt a little more genuine every time I heard someone yell: “CHUCK!”  And finally I was at Mile 25.  I’ve heard Jillian Michaels say: “Don’t quit when you can see the finish line” and although you can’t actually see the finish line from a mile away (at least not in monsoon-like conditions), that finish is there.  And it’s just a matter of minutes until you get there.  Jared and I always try to run that last mile without stopping.  Just give it all you got.  And so I did. 
I can’t say it enough: it was so cold.  I was more motivated by the promise of the heat sheet than I was by the thought of crossing the finish line and being able to stop running.  If they put the heat sheets one mile past the finish line, I was going to keep running.  I just wanted to be warm.  I pulled ahead of the 4:15 pacers, thinking of nothing but that cheap piece of mylar.
Mile 21: 10:23
Mile 22: 10:13
Mile 23: 9:53
Mile 24: 9:41
Mile 25: 9:41
Mile 26: 9:19
I heard my Garmin whistle and tweet, alerting me that I’d hit Mile 26 and thought: This is it.  The chute was lined with hundreds, maybe thousands, of spectators screaming, waving signs, clapping, taking pictures and cheering their hearts out.  I wondered if mom and Jared were somewhere in that mess, but couldn’t tear my eyes away from the finish line that seemed to be inching closer and closer in slow motion.  With just a few yards to go, I glanced at my Garmin and realized I would beat my PR by a matter of seconds.  And I crossed over that finish line overflowing with joy, stretching my arms in the air and choking on the eight billion emotions bubbling up inside of me.
Last 0.45 mile: 9:14
Garmin Results: 26.45 miles, 4:13:03 (9:34/mile)
Official Results: 26.2 miles, 4:12:58 (9:38/mile)
I hit the Stop button on my Garmin, locked eyes on a girl wrapping runners in heat sheets and made a beeline to her, shuddering and shivering as I let her drape the silvery cape around my shoulders.  I told her: “Thank you, thank you.  I’ve been looking forward to this sheet for over 20 miles.”  She laughed and pointed for me to go pick up my medal.  A young girl, about my niece’s age, draped a medal around my neck and quietly said: “Congratulations!”  
I don’t know if it was just me, but it felt like the finisher’s area was eight miles long.  I hobbled through the crowd of silver-caped runners as the rain started coming down harder and the wind picked up.  I watched the palm trees blowing sideways and thanked my lucky stars I was finished.  Later, I read there were 30 mile-per-hour winds throughout the steady downpour with temperatures hovering at 50 degrees.  25 runners were taken to the hospital to be treated for hypothermia.  

Although my knee felt completely fine, I had promised my mom I’d pick up some ice from the medical tent before heading to the Family Reunion Area, where we planned to meet.  And so I stopped at what looked like a very tiny medical station.  A nice woman ran over to me and asked if I was okay.  I assured her I was fine, then asked if she had any ice and she pointed past a mob of spectators, saying: “The official medical tent is way down there.  Good luck!  Do you need any water?”  She ran to grab a bottle of water for me, which I had her open because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get the cap off myself.  And so I wandered into that insane mob of spectators, sipping water, and wondering how in world I’d ever find my fan club. 

And again, just like a gift from heaven, I heard my name: “Chuck!  Chuck!  CHUCK!”  I scanned the crowd, peering through hundreds of umbrellas and finally spotted Jared, crammed in with the masses of family members and friends, anxiously waiting for their runners to leave the finisher’s area.  I squeezed my way through the crowd, hugging him, while everyone around us cheered.  I felt like a hero.
We muscled our way through that wall of umbrellas and soggy bodies to find mom, huddled on the other side.  We hugged, then hustled off to the car.  I had mapped out directions to have them park in one of the cheap beach lots, but I’m so grateful they opted to pay a little extra for an underground garage space closer to the finish.  Not only was it warmer underground, but it was dark and deserted enough that I was able to strip off my sopping clothes and shoes and cozy up in some dry sweats.  We hightailed it out of LA, heading 50 miles south to the Maggiano’s in Costa Mesa, where we swapped stories and filled our bellies, before finishing the trek back to San Diego.
Five days later, I’m warm and dry.  The post-run soreness is just a memory.  And I’m still relishing my shiny new PR.  As I recount the horrendous conditions to family, friends and colleagues, I always sum up the experience with: “It was awesome.”  I’m in no hurry to lace up my kicks for another four-hour parade through a monsoon, but nasty weather, post-marathon blues and all, it was worth it.  And very awesome. 

LA Marathon Part 3: Stats

21 Mar

I just came across the Provisional Results for the LA Marathon 2011, which are kind of fun.  I’ve never seen anything like this before.  Here are my “stats” (based on the Net Time, not Gun Time):

Result in Entire Field – 4017th place
15,723 finishers behind.  About 20% of finishers ahead.

Result in Gender (Female) – 768th place
6950 finishers behind.  About 10% of finishers ahead.

Result in Division (F 25-29) – 155th place
1040 finishers behind.  About 13% of finishers ahead.

FACTS:

  • Of the 19,740 who finished, 39% were women and 61% were men.
  • You were ahead of about 73% of men finishers.
  • Your start delay: 6 minutes, 1 second.
  • Over the final 4.5 miles, you passed 346 runners and 74 passed you.

    With such poor weather conditions (heavy rain, 30 mph winds, and 50 degree temps) and news reports saying: “Thousands of runners at the Los Angeles Marathon have been evaluated for hypothermia and 25 have been transported to local hospitals,” I started wondering how many people were registered versus how many actually finished.  I found an article that reports there were 23,542 registered runners, so if my desktop calculator isn’t lying to me, that means 3802 people didn’t show or didn’t finish.  Wow…

    Another reporter describes the scene: “Torrential rains fell relentlessly throughout most of the 26.2 mile race.  Runners trudged through shin-deep puddles as sewers overflowed, flooding portions of the course.  Sharp winds shredded the Mylar wraps cloaked around shivering runners who crossed the finish line.”

    Sounds pretty awesome, doesn’t it?

     
    I dropped off my momma at the airport this morning and I’m feeling kind of blue that the visit went by so incredibly fast.  Nonetheless, it was an awesome visit and I can’t wait for the next one!  In the meantime, I’ll keep checking flights on Bing.com and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the motivation to write up that race report…

      LA Marathon Part 2: Update!

      21 Mar

      Marathon #6 — Check.
      New PR — Check (by 22 whole seconds… I’ll take it!)
      2nd marathon in the rain — Check.

      I had alerts sent to my husband’s and mom’s cell phones since they were my official cheering squad/support crew, which turned out to be awesome because they were able to see me at Miles 3, 7, 10 and 17!!!!  (I was only expecting to see them maybe once before the Finish Line/family reunion area, so this was such a special surprise):

      • 10K in 01:01:17 hrs (NET).  Pace: 9:51 min/mi.  Predicted: 04:24:44 hrs.
      • 20K in 01:58:57 hrs (NET).  Pace: 9:34 min/mi.  Predicted: 04:16:55 hrs.
      • 30K in 02:58:15 hrs (NET).  Pace: 9:33 min/mi.  Predicted: 04:12:30 hrs.
      • 40K in 04:00:12 hrs (NET).  Pace: 9:39 min/mi.  Predicted: 04:19:24 hrs.
      • FINISH in 04:12:58 hrs (NET).  Pace: 9:38 min/mi.

      I’m really happy with my pacing, and honestly, I’m shocked that I was so successful in pacing myself, since I haven’t practiced this in any training runs since before Long Beach (oh, five months ago).  Not to mention the fact that these were, hands down, the worst conditions I’ve run in, ever, much less during a FULL MARATHON.  I’m really ridiculously happy!  And I’m sooo enjoying having the feeling back in my hands and finally having dry feet.

      ***Thanks times a billion to the hubster and momma Chuck who cheered their hearts out for me today, despite the non-stop heavy rains, 30 mph winds, and a 3+ hour drive from San Diego after a 3am wake-up call.  I’d say they’re the real champs of the day!

      It was raining pretty hard when I crossed the finish and made a beeline for the heat sheets that I’d been looking forward to the entire race.  The “Finish Line Festival” was a claustrophobic’s nightmare with runners and their cheering squads sardined along the block, so we hightailed it out of there as fast as my squishy, soggy feet could move.  Jared and mom had the foresight to park in an underground garage, where I was able to change into dry clothes before we took off for Maggiano’s in Costa Mesa for a post-race feast.  We made it back to San Diego by 5pm (holy cow, this was a lonnng day!) and I immediately got a hot shower because even 4-5 hours later, I still felt chilled to the bone.  A little nap, a little Yogurtland, and I’m about ready to break out the foam roller for some serious stretch time.

      Full race report coming soon!

      LA Marathon Part 1: here goes nothing

      20 Mar
      Welp.  I’ve lived in California for two years now and I can finally say I’ve been to LA.  (And it’s been one year since I learned it’s Los Angeles, not Las Angeles.  Whodda thunk?!?!).  Not that I’m all that proud or excited about it.  My initial thoughts are that LA kinda, sorta, um, sucks.  Sorry, LA.  This Ohio girl will always prefer wide, two-lane highways that make sense.

      Some kind of miracle got my tush out of the bed before 7am and mom and I were on our way from San Diego to LA by 8am.  120 miles later, we were lost in LA, somewhere in the vicinity of Dodger Stadium (thanks for nothing, Google Maps), with no stadium in view.  Luckily, mom was zen, I found my brain and we finally found the stinkin’ stadium and expo:

      These Ohio-girls were uber-impressed with the rosey-smelling portopotties and porto-sinks with real soap, water and paper towels.  But I’ll bet my race bib they won’t be so lovely tomorrow morning…  All tinkled out, we wandered through the chaos collecting samples, coupons and fliers, trying not to get trampled by the sample-hungry masses, sipping coffee and doing shots:

      Shh, don’t tell!  This was our 2nd round of POM Wonderful “shots!”
      POM for Pam :)

      With our bags full of Larabars, buy-2-get-1 socks, an LA t-shirt for the hub, and a bunch of other crap goodies, we stretched, got back in the car and drove 120 miles back to San Diego.  We picked up Jared and headed to Souplantation for a feast.  And by feast, I mean FEAST.  I housed two gargantuan plates of salad with all the good stuff and went to town on the (hey, I’m carbo loading!) all-you-can-eat self-serve fro-yo.  Yummers.

      I beg to differ, Souplantation.

      Now we’re home from our 4pm dinner, getting ready for bed at 8pm because we’re leaving for LA at 3:30 in the middle of the night in the morning!  Golly, am I a marathoner or grandma? 

      In 12 hours, I’ll be running the LA Marathon.  I’m both focused and freaked out.  I’m a tornado of emotions: excited, anxious, confident, fearful, keyed up, impatient, frustrated, hopeful, ready.  Truth be told, I am not ready in the sense of being “trained.”  Sarah Soon-To-Be (who’s in the same boat with only 5 weeks of training) said it perfectly: “My body might not be trained to run 26.2 this time, but it’ll be ABLE.”  

      I’m confident in my ability to cover the distance, but with less than five weeks of last-minute “training” and a handful of other variables… ongoing IT band issues, one week of recovery since I was laid up for seven days with the flu, and a “100% chance of heavy rain & wind” predicted for tomorrow morning… I can honestly say I have absolutely no idea what kind of performance I’m going to pull off.  I don’t know if I’ll be running nine minutes per mile or fifteen… if I’ll run the whole distance or bonk.  Bottom-line: I’m really feeling the nerves right now.  I’ve printed off directions, maps, instructions, and anything (and everything) else I’ve found that could possibly be necessary, helpful or related to the expo and race.  I’ve made a dozen lists of food, gear, schedules, goals, mile-by-mile dedications, to-dos, motivational quotes, things to buy, what to wear, what to pack, the lists go on…

      I catch myself questioning my sanity, thinking: “why in the heck do I do this to myself???” but quickly snap back to reality.  Truly, I wouldn’t trade this for the world.  I love this stuff.  I love this crazy ride, the adventure, the whole wild, overwhelming tornado of emotions.  It’s an addictive, intoxicating, whirlwind that reminds me I’m alive.  And I’m so intensely grateful to be alive, which reminds me of my favorite passage from Christopher McDougall’s book, Born To Run:

      “Strictly by accident, Scott stumbled upon the most advanced weapon in the ultrarunner’s arsenal: instead of cringing from fatigue, you embrace it.  You refuse to let it go.  You get to know it so well, you’re not afraid of it anymore.  Lisa Smith-Batchen, the amazingly sunny and pixie-tailed ultrarunner from Idaho who trained through blizzards to win a six-day race in the Sahara, talks about exhaustion as if it’s a playful pet.  ‘I love the Beast,’ she says.  ‘I actually look forward to the Beast showing up, because every time he does, I handle him better.  I get him more under control.’  Once the Beast arrives, Lisa knows what she has to deal with and can get down to work.  And isn’t that the reason she’s running through the desert in the first place–to put her training to work?  To have a friendly little tussle with the Beast and show it who’s boss?  You can’t hate the Beast and expect to beat it; the only way to truly conquer something, as every great philosopher and geneticist will tell you, is to love it.”
      Just venting (vomiting) all this mumbo-jumbo has been therapeutic, calming and a good reminder that running a marathon is simple: “Step 1: You start running.  There is not Step 2” (-Barney, How I Met Your Mother).

      One of my favorite momma-isms is: “Pain is a part of life.  Misery is an option.”  Rain, shine or torrential downpours, I’ll be smiling.  True, I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I’m really excited to find out–to put my training to work and “love the Beast.”

      rain on marathon Sunday? sounds about right.

      16 Mar

      Momma Chuck is here from Cincinnati (enjoying her granola)!  Work is busy-busy-busy since I’m playing catch-up after missing all five days last week.  Annnd there’s a 70% chance of rain predicted on marathon Sunday.

      Awesome.

      I ran the Flying Pig Marathon in the rain last May and I can’t say I’m excited about the possibility of running another soggy 26.2, but really, it figures.  It’s just the icing on the cake.  All I can do is gear up and be ready for anything, baby!

      In other news, Average Runner (who is my vegan runner idol) is hosting a marathon bib giveaway for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Nashville Country Music Marathon & 1/2!  Race day is just around the corner on April 30th and a free bib will save you $110 (for the half marathon) or $115 (for the full marathon), so go throw your name in the hat!

      Confession: I am definitely NOT a fan of country music and would probably wear my iPod shuffle with the volume cranked WAY up, but I love the crazy, party vibe of Rock ‘n’ Roll events.  I would especially love, love, love a FREE race bib and the opportunity to fly back to my home-sweet-home Midwest! 

      (What do you think, Baker?!?!  Or did you already sign up for Flying Pig???)

      found my mantra

      12 Mar

      I’ve been down with the flu since Sunday.  Today’s Day #7 and I’m feeling a bajillion times better than I did (the fever, body aches, headaches are gone), but I’m still coughing my lungs out and I still have a sore throat and funny laryngitis-y voice.  I should be 100% grateful to be on the road to recovery, but I’m freaking out that I’m not recovering fast enough!!!!

      I lost a whole week of my life!  Seven days sick = seven days of absolutely no running.  And the LA Marathon is in eight days.  One week from tomorrow I’m going to be running 26.2 miles and right now, I’m napping four times a day because I get tired out just by throwing a load of laundry in the washer.  Sigh…

      Will someone please get me some cheese for this whine?

      I know, I know.  I’m being a big baby.  Life’s not fair.  Things don’t always (or sometimes ever) go as planned. 

      I’m on meds that are killing these influenza buggers dead, so I am recovering!

      Secondly, it’s just a marathon.  I’m going to have to take a much more laid-back, no expectations approach to this one (and it’s not like I’m not already signed up for three more marathons this year…).  So no, I won’t be shooting for a PR and certainly won’t be pushing myself to my limits after a major bout with the flu and months of IT band issues… not to mention, very, very little training…

      It feels like the cards are stacked against me, but that just gives me that much more ammunition to run fearless.  In honor of Jessie and Amy.

      And there we have it.  I think I found my mantra: “You don’t have to be fast.  But you’d better be fearless” (Christopher McDougall, Born To Run).

      26.2 for Jessie

      23 Feb

      The LA Marathon countdown officially stands at… 25 days.  Yowzers!  I’m super duper excited and just a skosh nervous.  I ran 14 miles on Sunday and squeaked out another 6 on Monday (which was a much-needed holiday/day off work that I savored like the last day of summer break).  3-day weekends and 4-day workweeks are A-Mazing.  Love love love them.  So when I got to work today, realized there are no holidays in the month of March, I immediately submitted a PTO request for Monday, 3/21 (the day after the LA Marathon), so now I’m looking forward to that weekend EVEN MORE!

      Anyhow, back to the running and this untrained, impromptu marathon that’s about to happen…

      (Gulp!)

      I don’t have a training plan, really.  My #1 plan is to run what I want according to how my body feels.  I’m merely on Week #4 of an 18-week training plan for the Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon on 6/5, so now I’m just kinda sorta sticking to that plan and making the long runs longer.  I’m really happy with Sunday’s 14 and I’m gearing up for 16-18 this weekend.  Then, I’ll “taper”!  It sounds insane to be tapering when I haven’t really been training (well, at least not training like I’ve ever trained for a marathon before), but the most important thing is to keep my body healthy.   

      Even I’m not stupid enough to try cramming months of training into a few short weeks.

      So anyhow, me and Mr. Foam Roller, we’re best buds these days… my motto for the next 26 days should be: “Stretch, stretch, stretch some more.”  Okay, I take that back.  That’s a super lame motto (albeit important) and I’d rather have a more meaningful motto to mull over as the days fly by bringing me closer and closer to that moment of on your mark, get set, GO! 

      I’ve been sifting through my list of 8,904,209,385 quotes on running and life (that might be a wee bit of an exaggeration, but I do have a TON… apparently, I like running or sumthin’) and I pulled up a few awesomely appropriate quotes for this “untrained, impromptu marathon” that’s all about honoring my darling niece, who’s bravely enduring her own marathon battle with cancer. 

      “If you can do it, do it.  If you think you can’t, you won’t. 

      Only you have the power to meet your goals.” (-Nancy Cook)

      “You don’t have to be fast.  But you’d better be fearless.”

      (-Christopher McDougall, Born To Run) 

      “Pain is a part of life.  Misery is an option.” (-from Mom)

      “Live well. It is the greatest revenge.” (-Talmud)

      Right now, I’m really feeling the last one.  Live well. 

      Generally, I’m not a vengeful person… but, I’ve seen a lot of crappy hands dealt to my loved ones and that makes me mad–like, shake your fist at the sky screaming Why, God, why mad.  And while I know it’s not God–at least it’s not my feeling that God inflicts the suffering–I know life’s just not fair. 

      I’ve heard my mom say that a million and one times, usually in response to something silly and stupid that my brother or I wanted but didn’t get and we’d whine: “But mom!  It’s not fair!”  And mom would give us The Eyebrow, followed by: “Life’s not fair.”  I’m pretty sure she has a mug that says that.  And she’s right, you know… after all, she’s a mom. 

      Life’s not fair.  And the proof is all over the place.  There’s cancer and heartbreak and war and so much other crud in this world and it makes me mad.  So I deal with it by running.

      Jessie’s at the hospital today with her oncologist and “pain management team.”  I can’t imagine having pain so bad that it requires a whole team of people to help me out…  Again you have it: Life’s not fair.  I cried to Jared last night that I don’t know what I’m doing running this LA Marathon in honor of Jessie because frankly, running is for me.  It benefits me far more than it can ever benefit anyone else and it certainly won’t take her pain away.  It won’t cure her cancer.  It won’t pay my sister’s bills or, really, solve ANYTHING!  So why the heck do I bother? 

      I guess it goes back to Nancy Cook’s quote: “If you can do it, do it.”  I feel guilty about my inability to take away Jessie’s pain, but I have the ability to push through my pain, to be fearless and live well and it seems so small and miniscule and meaningless, but I’ll run 26.2 miles with nothing but positive thoughts for Jessie and my amazing sister, the Mommy Warrior, as well as her team of supporters.

      Yes, it’s predominantly for me and I don’t have delusions that my lil pumpkin really cares all that much about my running endeavors (she’s 16 years old and probably busy painting her nails and watching Cake Boss and putting together her second dream wedding scrapbook), but it’s my crack at revenge. 

      I’m sure I’ve written about this a gazillion times, but I’ll never forget the day Jessie longingly sighed: “I wish I could run and play like a normal kid.”  The next day, I started running.  Because it’s a privilege. 

      So yeah, this blog got away from me a bit, but you get the gist.  Sure, I’ve got some nerves about running 26.2 miles with very, very little training and five months of nagging from a fussy IT band, but these issues ain’t no thang.  It’s all about living well.  And if you can do it, by golly, do it.

      I won a free bib to run the LA Marathon!!!!

      19 Feb

      Well, kids, if you wander over to the LA Marathon website, you’ll see the lovely race countdown currently reads: 29 days.  And in other crazy awesome exciting news… I WON A FREE BIB THROUGH A WEBSITE GIVEAWAY!!!!  *Courtesy of MommyWarriors.com and Salonpas Pain Relief Patches.

       

      Nope, I’m not a mom–although my husband does call me “mommy” when he talks to our 94-pound bloodhound, Sully: “Mommy‘s gonna take you on a walk, buddy.  Be a good boy for mommy.”  And it’s no secret that hubby and I are very, very excited to have real, human babies “one day.”

      But for now, I’m throwing my whole heart into running the LA Marathon in honor of my beautiful 16 year old niece, Jessie, who is courageously battling her sixth relapse of a nine year battle with cancer, not to mention one of THE strongest “mommy warriors” on this Earth: my sister, Amy.  

      I am infinitely and wordlessly proud of these two women who mean the world to me.
      Jessie, Amy, my other awesome niece-Clara & I dancing the night away at our cousin’s wedding.
      Amy was the first marathoner in the family.  Here she is running the Kona Marathon!

      3 frozen yogurts, 2 races & 1 maniac wannabe

      15 Feb
      Today is my first wedding anniversary with my husband… it still feels weird to use that word… which is crazy and confusing because it feels like we’ve barely been married for a month and then again, I can’t really remember or imagine my life without him, so it feels like it’s been a lifetime–a perfectly wonderful lifetime.  Sometimes, I feel like it’s crazy-unfair to be as happy as I am, but then I whack myself in the head and remember to just flippin’ enjoy it already. 

      With that said, we had an OSOM weekend (better than awesome, it was OSOM).  It zoomed by way, way too fast, so I had to whack myself in the head again and remind myself to enjoy it.  And I did.

      Friday, at work, I got my booty kicked.  It was just one of those days.  I cried on the drive home.  When I walked in the door with tear-stained cheeks and heavy shoulders, opened the refrigerator and remembered we had absolutely no food, I turned to Jared with my most pathetic, pouty, puppy-dog eyes and he whisked me off to dinner at Souplantation.  I ate two ginormous plates of salad, the teeny-tiniest sweet potato I’ve ever seen in my life and, like, four bowls of messy dessert concoctions (frozen yogurt, vanilla pudding, chocolate pudding and sugar-free triple berry mousse.  I threw a bunch of grapes in there too to make it healthy). 

      On Saturday, we were up and at ‘em by 7:30am for the Black Mountain Summit 7k.  The website’s course description really, really, really downplayed this bad boy:

      This trail run is fun but challenging due to the steep summit climb.  If you can run the whole way you will feel accomplished and the views from the top are well worth it!

      Wow.  It should say: “If you can even make it to the top without hacking up a lung or breaking an ankle, you should be proud of yourself.”  The course was strewn with loose rocks and gravel.  This, coupled with the extremely steep, narrow, uneven pathways, made for a course that was far beyond “challenging”–it was practically impossible at points.  Oh, and to make it a full 7k, those lovely race organizers had the brilliant idea to have us run down the very steep parking lot and back up again at the start of the race, so you’re a mere three-tenths of a mile in, sucking wind and hating life when you first step foot onto the trail.  What a psychological beat down!



      What they did get right was the fact that the views from the top were “well worth it!”  I had “marathon thoughts” throughout the course: What the heck am I doing?  This is crazy!  Are we all crazy?  Why are we putting ourselves through this torture?  But as soon as you reach the top, you immediately forget all of the suffering.  There wasn’t a hint of a cloud in the bright blue sky that stretched from here to eternity, blanketing the ocean, the city, the mountains; it was incredible.  It was a good 30+ minutes of suffering on the way up, then an instant “high” as you hit the peak, turn around and head back down through the same atrocious course you covered on the way up.


      Jared would argue that the way up was the hardest, but I had a harder time on the way down.  I wanted to fly.  I wanted to let gravity be my friend, but I knew that would tax my knee/IT band, so I tried to take it easy.  Also, the loose rocks made it extremely dangerous.  I played it safe and finished in 55:14 (according to Mr. Garmin) and 55:16 (according to the official race results), which is roughly 12:50/mile.  That slow pace does NOT reflect the intensity and exertion required on this monster-of-a-course.  I’ve never wanted to wear a heart rate monitor before, but I wish I had for this puppy, because it was TOUGH.  We probably burned about a bajillion calories. 


      Interestingly enough, the only residual soreness from this event is located in my left butt cheek.  Why just my left???

      We swung by Gordon Biersch to pick up our race packets for Sunday’s event, then headed home where we resisted the urge to drift into lazy comas for the rest of the day.  We walked Sully, ate breakfast, ran errands, then met our buddy, Muffin (yes, Muffin, he’s a dude, real name’s Clint, and he’s awesome.  Or OSOM, rather) at YOGURTLAND (a.k.a. heaven on earth). 

      Fro-yo two nights in a row you ask?!  Hello, this is why I run!  And I burned a bajillion calories, remember?

      We played some Rummy 500 and I whooped their butts.

      Sunday morning came mighty fast.  We were up at 6:00am for the Coronado Valentine’s Day 10k and were running by 7:15am.  We stayed together the whole time and spent the run reminiscing about the past year’s events and playing “what were we doing at this time last year?”  It was sweet and sentimental and we both thoroughly enjoyed the ultra-flat terrain of Coronado.  
       

      I felt a little discomfort in my right knee/IT band just shy of mile 3, but it subsided quickly and I finished feeling great… don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing in terms of the IT band injury, but it certainly is what it is.  I’m staying optimistic.  We scooped up our heart-shaped medals and post-race goodies, including Activate water. 


      It’s only 5 calories per bottle and I was thirsty, so I went for it, though I normally stay away from flavored water and stuff like this because I look at the ingredients and can’t pronounce 90% of the words, so I guess my thoughts are: 1) I don’t want to ingest something that I have no idea what it is except not natural and 2) I can’t even begin to guess whether or not it’s gluten-free.  Well, I broke my rules on this one and drank a bottle of the passion fruit and it was delish!  I love me some good ol’ plain water–bottled or tap, preferably icy cold, (but when I’m thirsty, I won’t discriminate), so I won’t be running out to buy this stuff, but it’d be good for someone who doesn’t love the plain stuff and needs a lil something.

      We finished in a respectable 1:10:26 (again, according to Mr. G), which averages out to 9:54/mile, then got some extra steps in trying to find our car because we only kinda sorta paid attention to where we parked.  I freaked out a little bit because I thought we’d lost the car and was having flashbacks of the Silver Strand half marathon in 2009 when we lost our car key during the race and had to hitch a ride home with some strangers to pick up our spare key.  It was all good in the end, but it was a stressful way to wrap up a race.  Luckily, we found our brains AND the car and were home before 9:00am.  

      We took Sully for a long walk, then met up with friends for a mimosa brunch at JRDN on the beach, which turned into a mimosa afternoon on the rooftop of PB Ale House and when we got home at 5pm, Jared immediately started sawing logs on the couch, while I ate a giant lentil-pepper-spinach salad and watched Food Network.  When he woke up, we went to Yogurtland, yes, again. 


      What the heck do they put in that stuff!?!?

      I’ve talked about my ambitions to become a “Marathon Maniac” on a few different occasions, but I’ll admit, I’ve always kept it very light and joking and not serious.  But, truth be told, I really AM serious about wanting to accomplish this goal for two reasons:
      1. I’m slacking off on my ambitions to “Qualify for Boston ASAP!” because, well, I just don’t want to put so much pressure on myself!  First and foremost, my goal is to enjoy running and training and racing and for me, pushing, pushing, pushing is a surefire way to squash my motivation like a bug, so I’m eliminating the pressure and embracing my desire to simply run as much as I want to, baby!  And… 
      2. I AM a maniac. 
      The minimum criteria to become a Marathon Maniac involves running:
      • 2 Marathons within a 16 day time frame, OR
      • 3 Marathons within a 90 day time frame
      So I’ve scoped out the nearest (and soonest) events and I’ve narrowed it down to these four options:

      03/20/2011: LA Marathon: http://www.lamarathon.com/  
      Registration: $145 until Sold Out – This is STEEP and I’m trying to win a free bib… There’s only one contest left, which ends on Wednesday, so we shall see…
       Travel to LA is 116 miles or approximately 2 hours
       MarathonGuide.com Ratings: Course-3.5/5, Organization-3.5/5, Fans-4/5
      Comments were primarily about the organization (or lack of), parking and expo.
       
      05/01/2011: OC Marathon: http://www.ocmarathon.com/
      Registration: Marathon-$100 & Half-$85 until Sold Out
      Jared would have the option to run the half, while I run the full
       Course: Full & Half Marathoners split at Mile 12
      Travel to OC is 84 miles or approximately 1½ hours
       MarathonGuide.com Ratings: Course-3.5/5, Organization-3.5/5, Fans-3/5
      Comments were about the crowded start line and course, rolling hills and lack of course support.
        
      05/15/2011: Pasadena Marathon: http://pasadenamarathon.org/
      Registration: Marathon-$81 & Half-$67.50 thru 2/20 – Cheap!
       Again, Jared could run the half, while I run the full
       Course: Full & Half Marathoners split at Mile 8
      Because I’m running RNR San Diego in 3 weeks, I’d be aiming for 20-22 mile long run this weekend anyways, so why not just run a full marathon!?
       Travel to Pasadena is 123 miles or approximately 2 hours, 10 minutes
       MarathonGuide.com Ratings: Course-4/5, Organization-4/5, Fans-3/5
      Comments were about the hills, frequent switchbacks and lack of course support.
       
      06/05/2011: Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon: http://san-diego.competitor.com/ – ALREADY REGISTERED!

      With the LA Marathon bib giveaway contest ending on Wednesday and Pasadena’s fees increasing on Sunday, I’m thinking I’ll be making the decision this week… Is now the right time to go for it?  And if so, which ones do I want to do?  Not to mention: Will Jared be supportive of my leap into Maniac-ville?  Who am I kidding?  Of course he will be!

      In the meantime, that husband of mine is on his way to pick me up from work so we can go to Sammy’s Woodfired Pizza for our Anniversary/Valentine’s dinner celebration.  Osom!

      I have a feeling there’s a glass of Malbec there with my name all over it.

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