Can'tTakeTheJerseyOutoftheGirl

15 Minutes

2010-05-21T21:21:00.002-05:00

Well, it's been a while. I have been diligently trying to heal my injury, not getting up before 5 am, and definitely NOT running. It's super tough to do and I feel, already, fat and lazy!

That being said, after a month and a few days, I have been released, sort of...to run all of 15 minutes a day! Yes, just 15 mins...that's it. My arch is smashed down like a pancake on the left side, but hey, I'll take the 15 mins.

People kind of zoned on my blog entries due to their sheer length. So sorry..

Tomorrow, my son will run the Congress Avenue Mile. I am so excited for him! I can't wait to just be on the "crew" side...now, if only I could run alongside him...can I count that in my 15 mins?

Seriously, this is the end of this entry (again due to kvetching about how long the blogs are)

Just the Finish the Thing, will ya?

2010-04-27T21:18:00.006-05:00

Ok, Ok, I know it's been over a week. I'm trying to get back in to the demands of life and, in the meantime, my husband headed out for China and Malaysia for 2 weeks, so I'm chasing my tail.

Back to the middle of the race. The irony here is that I was ACTUALLY on target at the 1/2 marathon mark -- 1:41. I had planned for between 1:39 and 1:43, so I hadn't really fallen back at all. But, that's not what it felt like to me. I had decided to stop looking at my watch (already) because I was very scared of how far off the mark I was. At the time, my perception was completely incorrect.

On the course, the clocks that you see record the time from the official start (when the elites take off) YOu have to keep track yourself on your watch or be able to subtract out the time it takes for you to cross the start line and the time on the official clock. When you are tired and sinking, it's very hard to calculate (without your watch) where you really are...this is what was happening to me at this point in the race.

Because Lorenzo had continued on (as he should have) and he was the one telling me if we were above or below pace, I was now lost. This is a HUGE mistake in a marathon -- to not be responsible for yourself and keep your own time. I rely heavily on Lorenzo in training, but I should take care of myself in the marathon. And, here I was, losing him at mile 12, not knowing what my plan was...my plans just ran ahead of me.

I know in my mind and in my heart that I have made a very critical error here and along with the pain in my foot I begin to struggle mentally. Here comes the devil on the shoulder; the internal tape that keeps playing over and over.

And, to top it all off, as I mentioned, the worst part of the Boston Marathon awaits me. I fight myself and try so hard not to think about miles 17-21 because I wonder how I will ever make it the next mile. I think of Gilbert telling me, just one mile at a time.

At this point, I decide I will not look at my watch again. This is devastating to me as I had several doable goals in this race (ok, maybe two completely crazy ones) and I feel them falling away.

I begin to listen to internal voice that says: What were you thinking? This is the big time -- I mean look at these people, they know what they are doing. I am not a marathoner, I tell myself (a little late) I'm just not a person who can run this distance at all. The thoughts just come at me with increasing speed and I feel myself again, looking for medical. I just can't do it, I decide. I should never have come here; I'm not prepared, this is insane.

I have never experienced the crowds like they are at Boston. They are immense, constant, noisy and knowledgeable. At one point, someone from the side sees my bib number and says, Wow, she's really behind, she's tanking. I think, screw you and keep it to yourself, but I realize he's right. I start to freak about giving out my number to people at home as I imagine them watching me tank as my time gets slower and slower. I imagine I can hear the "Wow, Red started too fast, she was doing ok, but look at her now."

All of this self-inflicted mental punishment is taking it's toll but it has passed the time. Suddenly, mile 17 is upon me, Hill number one. I'm actually surprised that I am still running and decide that something new that will engage different muscle groups will at least be interesting. I start to lean forward and stride out. My quads are shot now and they have replaced the pain in my foot that seems to have subsided. I dig and try to mentally turn it around.

I realize now that I am completely removed from the race...that I have disassociated. Lorenzo had mentioned this to me many times and it was in the article that he shared with me on the bus. STay in the race, it said, don't disassociate, take inventory of the body, take fluids, take gu, take salt.

Something inside of me changes. I can't really explain it. But, at that moment, while I have struggled and wasted time beating myself up; I decide to get back in it. I don't really know how to do it physically, but I start to re-engage. Remember the training, you have done this before. This is just like Exposition, it's not even that steep, dig in, you can do it.

People pass me left and right. Not my plan at this point, but I let it go. This is a totally new phenomenon for me in a race at this point. This is one of the many changes that happened to me on April 19th. I let them go. I don't let them take my energy, I don't let it irritate me. I realize anger at this point is not going to save me; there are many more miles to go.

I shake my arms out, I breathe deeply and I hit the secret weapon with vigor. "Hail Mary, full of Grace...." over and over I say it. I hadn't planned on hitting the secret weapon so early, but I do and it helps me focus. I take water, I take more salt; I change my stride and relax some. Suddenly, ahead I see Team Hoyt and I am humbled again. Stop complaining I say, this man pushes his son with Cerebal Palsy in races all over the world; not just here, but in Iron Man's. He's not bitching. I am in awe at these two. I have watched them on TV over and over and cried at the sheer love and dedication this father has for his son. I actually, without thinking, reach over and touch the dad and say, thank you, you both are so amazing, great job!

And off I go. Digging, tearing at it, the negative voices have stopped -- again, stunning at this point.

Again, another gift, my friend Paul King comes up behind me! A Gazelle! I want to stop and hug him. He says, Good work Alicia, you are putting in really good work here. Thanks Paul, I say, and off he goes. For a minute, I am in a time warp and back in Austin, Texas running a regular old training run with Paul. It's a weird feeling, but we are in Boston! I try to stay focused but I am so happy for his words and encouraged that I keep working.

In short order Beth W and Yetik come up beside me. Fantastic! I am so happy to see them. I cannot believe in ths huge race I am EVEN seeing Gazelles. Hi guys, I say. You look great, you look so strong. They look super strong as they glide up the hill. I'm truly happy that they are having a good day.

Off they go as well.

Heartbreak hill is tough and loud, and I actually walk for a bit. But, I soon talk myself out of it realizing that I will really slow down and possibly cramp if I keep walking.

At the top of Heartbreak, it's a miracle and the noise is deafening. I try to remember what David Vance said, the race is not over at Heartbreak; it's just begun. I think, well, on any other day, that may be true, but I am just struggling to hang on and hoping just run mile by mile.

I start to really give myself a pep talk. First, other people have sacrificed a lot for me to be here...namely my husband and my kids. I need to put in a good race for them. And, how can I possibly look my kids in the eye and tell them never give up if I give up. I just can't do it. I tell myself that quitting is now off the table unless I pull my Achille's and can't even walk. Then I hone in on some families and I find myself really wishing my own family was out in that crowd somewhere. I have to put that aside for now and get the job done or I will totally start crying.

Next, I tell myself, the worst is over. You are up and over Heartbreak, you have run all this way in pain; I mean, really,if you quit now, that would be crazy. I see Mile Marker 21 and keep pushing. Less than a 10K to go. I feel a surge coming.

AND, you bought the jacket. THE JACKET. You can't possibly wear that jacket if you don't finish the race -- it's just not done. You have to finish if you plan on wearing the jacket.

AND, don't you want to see the finish line? to just cross it? It doesn't really matter now; just get under 4 hours, you will requalify for next year and you can come back and learn from all of this.

Mile 23; just a little over a 5K to go. I push harder. You can do this I tell myself; you are almost there.

There's a guy in front of me who keeps stopping and starting and he has two friends, women, with him on each side trying to encourage him to finish. This is Boston, they say, you can't stop, you have to finish. They start up again and pass me. This happens a few times and each time, the women fan to each side so it's impossible for me to get around. I am so pissed, (first time this race, shocking) I am too tired and sore to get around them and I am in a groove. This stopping they are doing could cause me to misstep and I am just hanging on to my left foot this point.

I soon realize that they are NOT in the race...they are support for him. At this point in the race, it's dangerous for them to be in amongst the other runners and frankly, it's really pissing me off. They will not get out of the way. Normally, I would say something, but again, I'm saving energy. Then, I just let it go. I think, you know what, he may not cross the line if they don't help him, I will have to find a way around them that doesn't cost me time or steps.

I actually now start to pass a few people, not many, but some. I hang on to two women who have their names on their shirts and people are calling their names. Mile 24 now....the crowds are getting louder.

One of the ladies is named Patty. She's wearing a pink running skirt and a white tank. Her hair is blonde and perfectly coifed. I am so not kidding. I'm like, where did she come from? Did she just fix herself up and jump in here at mile 23? Seriously, she gives the crowd the Princess Diana wave and looks like she's barely run a minute. I have my mark...the old Alicia is back in the game.

I hang close to Patty and absorb the cheers, we turn left out of the tunnel and I stay tight on her. We turn right, I cut the tangent (Lorenzo's advice); I stay to the left to cut the next corner...I'm gaining.

What happens next takes my breathe away...we turn the corner and there it is, the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I feel like I have just woken up out of a fog. It's Boylston Street...both sides of the street, barricades, crowds many, many people deep and the roar of the people; it's amazing; awesome; I cannot believe I am here. I am really doing this. The guy next to me actually stops and takes a picture! I wonder if he's carried the camera the whole way.

I look back down for Patty and there she is; it's so close now, I can't give way. I pump my arms. I pull my son's gloves out of my shirt and tuck them in my shorts (for the photo of course) and dig as hard as I can. I gain on Patty, I'm next to Patty, I pass Patty and throw my hands in the air and cross that beautiful, amazing finish line of the Boston Marathon and smile!

A volunteer hands me water, and runners move forward in the chute. I lean over and begin to cry; wracking sobs from my chest. I'm just so stunned that I actually made it. Paul King spots me and throws his arm around me. It's ok, he says, (he knows I had ambitious goals) you did great, you finished. He's right, I finished. I don't care that I didn't hit my time goals. I'm just so happy I made it in under 4hours; that I requalified for next year. I'm not ashamed of my time at all. I'm so happy that I didn't give in at mile 4 and 12 and 15 and 18. I'm here. I get a medal and stare, we get our thermo wraps and see Beth W and Yetik who had a great day.

I hobble to the bus to get my drop bag. I realize that Lorenzo is probably long finished and I head to the hotel.

Someone shouts my name and it's Lorenzo and his wife. I cross the street. It wasn't my day, I said, but I'm happy. I'm coming back next year. I know what I did wrong. I learned so much out there on my own. I know he must be surprised since I had told him after San Antonio that I would NEVER do another marathon, but Boston is different. It's the Super Bowl.

I hobble to my room and I just feel so much joy even though I am in pain. I cannot get my foot on the ground at all and my quads are completely shredded. My foot begins to swell and I hobble for the ice.

I call my husband, who has already left me messages. He screams in the phone. Honey, you did it! I'm so proud of you; it's awesome. I know he knows I didn't make at least three of my time goals. Thank you, I say. I wish you could have been here, It's amazing. I think I really messed up my foot, but honey, can I come back next year? I just loved it! Of course, he says, and next year, we're coming with you!

Post Script: I headed to Pieter and Troy a few days later to learn that I had torn my plantar fascia about midway from the big toe to the heel. Check this out, Troy said, and other therapists gathered to feel my foot. Wow, I said to Troy, I think I did that about mile 4! That explains a lot! I've never seen anyone so excited by an injury. I'm not happy to be injured, but I couldn't figure out why I was in so much pain; now it all makes sense. Um, how long will it be before I can run again? I say. Troy, being Troy, just shakes his head. I'm going back next year Troy, really. But no marathons until then!

What Exit?

2010-04-24T21:47:00.004-05:00

Part Two, can you say, Exit 16W?

It's funny, in Jersey, most people ask you, what exit? I'm from 16W for example. It let's people know what part of the state you are from, although, sometimes, the accent alone is a give away.

Back to Boston...

I get the salt tablet in me, but not without some awkward hand off and assurance that I wouldn't drop it again. I feel like an idiot now and I know my errors are adding up.

I hang to left of the course because, well, I thought there would be less crowds and my Gazelle friend M Woo told me, pick a side and stay there. But, I have never really practiced water stops from the left and this proves to be a huge issue.

First, I cannot grab and drink from my left hand. On a water stop, I try and hit, one, two, three cups down. Lorenzo is behind me (oh so briefly) and he'd be dehydrated if he'd stayed there. Mistake Six, not practicing left side water stops.

Then I start grabbing water with my right hand. So, I bascially have to reach over, grab, drink and toss. Ugh! I secure the cup, try to drink and take the rest and pour it on myself. I am starting to heat up too much and I feel the reddness in my face.

Lorenzo looks over at one point and I almost can sense that he knows I'm overheated, but I just continue on. He has no idea at this point that I am in so much pain. I say nothing about how I am feeling, just hoping this will go away and shake itself out.

We continue to move through the miles, but the pace is never comfortable. I feel it's too fast, too slow, to up and down. My foot is killing me and I am trying to push down the panic. I hear a guy behind me plodding and grunting with every mile. I want him to go away; he's so loud and annoying and he's draining me.

At mile 12, I'm looking for the exit. I seriously can't stand the pain and I'm ready to DNF. I'm not sure what's wrong, but I need a consult with LB. Lorenzo pulls away and I make the cardinal error of the day...."Lorenzo..." I say, with a pathetic plea that sounds so much like someone hanging by their nails off a cliff. I'm whimpering, I'm desperate, I'm confused. I'm at the Boston Freakin' Marathon; not even at the 1/2 way mark and completely falling apart. I try not to panic. I realize that the moment I utter LB's name, that I shouldn't have.

He's ahead of me and turns slightly to see; but he can't see me. In slow motion, he turns his head back to the front of the race and the crowd swallows him up. He's gone. And he should be and I know he should. I would never want him to slow down for me.

Oh My God! I think. Never in my life did I think I would feather back from LB so early; it's mile 12. I mean, I thought I would lose him at mile 18 or 19, but 12! That's it, I'm out I think to myself. The next medical tent and I'm leaving tossing in the towel. I'm so upset that I try to process it all. I see my name: Alicia Sankar, DNF, 2010 Boston Marathon. I can't believe it. As I continue to run, all this is going through my head. I trained so hard. My foot hurt, but not this bad on long runs. What is going on? How can I keep the pace without LB? Goal A and B at this point are gone. I try to change my stride, lift my legs, anything to shake the pain and detract from the knowledge of the pain.

Then, suddenly, it's the 1/2 marathon point. I realize that I am only 1/2 way there and that the worst part of the race is still to come....the hills from 17-21.

TO BE CONTINUED....

Badda Bing, Badda Boston: Part One

2010-04-21T21:52:00.008-05:00

Everyone knows the end of the story already: I made it. But it wasn't pretty, or elegant or graceful. It was gritty and rough and painful. I didn't hit my A Plan, B Plan or C Plan; but I didn't hit the worst case scenario either. It wasn't at all what I imagined -- it was something completely different; and, it changed me.

I know, this is a good spot for an Eye Roll (ER).

I have been training for the Boston Marathon since Pieter and Troy told me I could put the right foot back in a running shoe and try 2 miles. Yes, just 2! It's been a really long time; nearly a year of building up to this race.

This was the 114th Boston Marathon -- the race is steeped in history and you feel the pressure of it when you arrive, even if you try not to. Everyone has qualified to be there and trained hard.

To give some perspective on this....I trained way harder for this race than for San Antonio in 2008 where I qualified for Boston. I wasn't even going to do another marathon EVER again until people kept telling me that I had to do Boston. They were totally right; It's the Super Bowl of Marathons and I'm glad I did it.

I consider myself the poster child for mistakes one can make at their first Boston Marathon. My expectations for myself were too high:Mistake Number One. I talked to lots of people and got lots of advice about what to do; so, hey, you would think that I would know better or at least learn from others. I didn't.

I'll skip right to race day. We head out on the busses and we actually have a great time. I'm with Double D, Lorenzo Blanco and LB from the Gazelles. Lorenzo is truly cracking me up on the bus and I'm kind of amazed that A) Lorenzo is being such a comedian and B) that I am not hurling from nerves. Lorenzo gives me an article about how to train for Boston and, while I politely read it I think; Um, it's a little late, don't ya think?

Anyway, one point Lorenzo is trying to make is that you should not disassociate from the race. He's mentioned this a few times and he is now backing it up with this article (again, race day, on the bus, kinda late). But, I read it anyway.

The athletes village is very cool and there are hardly any lines at the port o pots; that soon changes as loads of busses pull up and people are jumping fences to get in line. I head out to get in line again; just in case. I head across from where we are and make Mistake Number 2 -- didn't get right back in the port o pot line after I had finished the first time!

Anyway, it's time to head to our corral and we drop our bags and head down there. We all have to go again; nerves I suppose, but I'm worried about getting DQ'd since I heard they do that to people who use the bushes in Boston.

Finally, we are in the corral and I have to go again, but I can't leave the corral. I can't do anything else either. Here is Mistake NUMBER 3: Relieving oneself after the start. Yes, seriously, it's the Boston Marathon and I actually have to start the race and head to the bushes and then try to catch up...total Rookie move.

I try to soak it all in after the bush pit stop and hope I haven't just jinxed myself by using up that time and energy. There are hundreds of people in front of us; a huge sea of people running. It's amazing to see that many people.

From the get go, I have trouble breathing. I try to settle in to the pace, but I can't. We're too slow, too fast; slow, fast and I still am breathing too hard. Lorenzo tells me where we are fast or slow and I'm starting to worry.

Mile 4 -- Boston, we have a problem! My left, yes LEFT foot starts to give me a piercing throb up through the heel. I try to ignore it; I try to pretend this isn't happening. The wheels cannot come off this early; but, they are. The pain is so bad that it surprises me.

Then, I drop my first Gu. (Gasp and Mistake Number 4) Now, I now this may not seem like much, but if you are superstitious (like me) then all these little "nothing" happenings begin to add up to something.

"!@#@$", I shout. "Lorenzo, I just dropped my first Gu." "Don't worry about it, he says, you have more." "I know, but that's the first one." Now I have to dig in the pouch for a Gu without dropping all the other stuff in pouch.

Meanwhile, I take some tylenol while I'm in the pack. Still, I cannot get comfortable and my foot is hurting all the more and getting worse.

I have a bottle a water I've been carrying and it's time to toss it. I look left and yell, "tossing" and chuck the bottle, striking a fellow runner on the leg! OMG, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I shout, but it's too late. I've angered a fellow runner and invited bad karma my way...and, it's coming for me...

Yes, Mistake Number 5

About 45 minutes in; it's time for sodium. I pull one out of my pack and --- YES, I DROPPED IT! No way! I couldn't believe it. Lorenzo, I just dropped the salt pack. Ok, he says, and he fishes for another one and hands it to me and I'm able to hang on to it and get it to my mouth without fumbling. Mistake Number 6, I think I should just stop counting.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

Basket of Goodies -- Forget 'bout it!

2010-04-15T17:58:00.010-05:00

I have to admit, I am now officially scared. Terrified in fact. I wonder why I am doing this. I traversed the excited place to the "WTF, are you crazy!" place.

Also, who would have thought tapering was so hard. I mean, seriously, all the aches and pains emerge, they are ugly and arrive in places that previously had no pain at all. My left foot throbs at the slightest movement. I feel like Tom after he's been hit by Jerry with a hammer. I can't sleep. My body temperature seems very high, I can't cool off. I lower the air conditioning (no, this is not a hot flash).

Last night my neighbors arrived bearing gifts! A huge basket with gels, sport beans, snacks, magazines for the plane, a book, a pedicure gift certificate, yummy lotions, and a Starbucks gift card. Oh, the faux diamond stud earrings -- every Jersey Girl needs them and the requisite mini hand that flips you the bird and shouts profanity at you...for miles 17-21 (thank you Sullivan's).

But, I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the two banners they made. T Howard's gals made 2 banner complete with the Gazelle logo and my number.

It's awesome! I need to get a better photo of it. It felt great to be so celebrated, and I haven't stepped foot on the course yet!

I will pull in the energy and take it with me!

Finishing Touches

2010-04-11T12:04:00.004-05:00

There's really only one week to go and I'm in the midst of making lists, getting final miles in, going to see Pieter (weekly, getting advice from people who have been to Boston, and pulling in all the good MoJo I can.

Saturday, LB and I ran with Steve who is coming back after doing Austin and Paul King. We only had to 12 miles which, to be honest, I sincerely struggled with. I felt winding, sluggish and, well, fat. I have gained some weight recently, though I'm not sure why and it's become an obsession. Yes, coach, I am laying off the booze.

During this run, I realize how truly fast our MGP is; I know, it's kind of startling that I am just now realizing this. You see, I thought it was three seconds slower than it really is in order for me to hit my unspoken goal. Three seconds may not seem like much, but over 26.2 miles, it truly is. Wow, now I'm scared. I move alternately from excited to scared on a regular basis.

Today, I asked Fr. Jamie Baca at University Catholic Center for a blessing. He's been a huge support to me over my training. After Mass, Lourdes, Fr. Jamie and I join hands and he says a beautiful blessing over me and my health during the race. Aidan took these two pictures.

I hope, for those of you that have followed along all these many months of training will stay tuned. I hope to post frequently about the entire experience.

One more week!

Bamboozled!

2010-04-04T15:49:00.002-05:00

I learned this the hard way when I started Gazelles -- never ask how many repeats or laps you are doing. You will get more to do. So began Saturday, when I thought I was doing 17 miles as I am now looking forward to the taper weeks. When are they?

To let the curious know, my left foot is crapping out. It's amazing, all my previous problems started on my right side. After last week's very painful 18 miles, no my left foot is screaming. It hurts most of the time.

I whisk myself off to Pieter who reports that my cuboid, yes, can you believe it, on the left side is starting to complain. I cannot believe it. I have excruciating pain down the outside of my foot. I can only hope, Obi Wan Pieter can fix it. When I tell him what's going on, he doesn't seem surprised. I'm disappointed that I've lost the element of surprise with him. But, he shrugs as he starts to press and prod the foot looking for point of pain. This is about the time when things break down, he says. Luckily, he seems to be able to magically adjust the foot to relieve the pain and moves on the other parts of my body that are acting up. And, there are lots of them.

Troy comes over for a look too and they ask me about my runs. I love these guys, they are genuinely interested in my progress and I feel like I actually have a team on my side. I tell them I wish they could come with me. They start to laugh about how they would sit on the side waiting for me to come by at certain points, crack and adjust, put my shoes back on and send me on my way. I wish! Pit stop, Pieter and Troy and off you go.

Back to the long run. I have a decent week, but my foot still hurts in spite of all of Pieter's work. I run with my son riding his bike by my side one day for recovery, I make it to the gym.

So, I get my head wrapped around 17 with the end at MGP. My foot is killing me part way through the run, so LB says we should just get the miles in and do a pace run on Monday. This is the not first time we've backed off of an MGP run and I am starting to get nervous that I haven't pushed hard enough. The doubts creep in. But,I say ok and we trudge along. Them LB tells me we're doing more than 17, more like 18ish. WHAT? Are you kidding me? It's one mile, but it seems like more.

At one point, we start to pick it up a bit, but I lag behind LB. I am tired of being behind, when we hit Exposition, I start to try to catch him, on the hills. I try to change my stride so that my foot doesn't strike and cause pain and slowly, slowly, I gain ground. Suddenly, I start to feel refreshed. Just like that weekend of the great 22 miler, the pain goes away and I really hit a groove. LB calls out, we're 6 seconds below MGP, 10 seconds below MGP and I push harder and harder.

I feel great, focused. Breathe, push, LB falls back some...Mile 14; 8:14; Mile 15, 7:37; Mile 16, 7:15, Mile 17, 7:04, Mile 18 I drop back to 7:37. I don't see people coming at me, I don't feel pain, I just dig. I am completely surprised by this effort and don't know where it's coming from, but it feels great.

I decide that it might be a good idea for LB to tell me that we're doing a long run, just 22 miles on Boston on April 19th. Then, about mile 20, he can tell, me, oh, yeah, I forgot, we're doing 26.2 and this is the real deal!

2 weeks to go!

My Left Foot -- Not the Movie

2010-03-29T21:14:00.002-05:00

Ok, enough with the shoes and the feet; but seriously, who knew they were so important. LB and I headed out for 18 miles on Saturday and we had to leave early, 5:30 a.m. as I had a full day ahead with family activities.

Truth be told -- I have been in denial about a plantar issue on my left foot. Yes, the left, not the right. Can I please have two feet without pain at one time. Anyway, it would go away as I ran. Pieter looked at it and worked on it and it was much better.

Saturday started well and I was anxious to get it to Marathon Goal Pace -- 7:37 or better. We were going slower than I wanted and I was getting antsy. If I don't get 10 miles of MGP in, I'll start freakin'. So LB says we should play chase and off he goes. He gets farther and farther ahead of me and I am working so hard to catch him.

A get a stitch. A fellow Gazelle comes along and runs with me for a bit. Then I keep pace along Duval. We're almost done. Suddenly, my left foot starts hurting so much that each time it hits that pavement, I feel like I am impaling it on a nail. Finally, I stop. I sit on the curb, take off my shoe and probe it. Nothing seems broken. I massage it a little and then I start to cry. Just three weeks away and I feel like my left foot is giving out on me. I put my shoe back on and get back up. I'm going for it. I have do the miles. I will myself back up the hills and down Congress, but now I am short miles and have to add to make the 18. I don't want to, but I must do it for my mental state.

When it's over, LB is really nice about it. He had a great run, he was really strong. Me, the 22 miler was great, this one, not so much.

Well, better now than on April 19th.

The Perfect Storm

2010-03-21T19:16:00.006-05:00

When I first received my card confirming that I was registered for the Boston Marathon, I taped it to my mirror in the bathroom to remind me that I needed to get the runs in and get up and go to the gym even when I didn't want to, even when I was tired, even when other things got in the way. Saturday, I tore the card off mirror and ripped it to pieces.

Sometimes, life gets in the way of training. People get tired of the schedules; the planning, the getting up at ridiculous hours to get runs in; the need to eat at an earlier hour than normal.

This was one of those weekends -- the elements and life got in the way. I wanted to throw in the towel, even with just 4 weeks to go. I asked myself: why am I doing this?

Friday night was a bad start to the weekend. I ate too late for starters.

Saturday, I headed to RunTex, and it was pouring. I mean torrential. And the lightning was cracking across the sky. LB and I headed out and the lightning got worse, the rain came down even harder. We decided to head back to RunTex and clocked just over four miles.

I really needed to get 22 miles in as I had a terrible 22 miler a few weeks ago. So much of my issue is mental late in the race. The demons creep in...I start to doubt, wonder, want to quit. I have to work hard to stay in it at all. In fact, there has only been one race I've ever done that I did not have the desire to quit; and that was Moe's a few weeks ago. So, I use a lot of mental energy just not believing in myself.

There could hardly be more obstacles to my 22 miler this week. Seriously, the emotional obstacles alone were steep.

On Sunday, LB and I headed out for 22 at 10:30 am. I was very dubious. I was hurting emotionally. I wondered if I really could do it. But, I have learned something about myself in training over these years, not just for Boston, but other races; that with adversity, I seem to dig in and get it done.

Such was Sunday. A headwind like the dickens, not enough sleep or food and stress. I dug in. At mile 7 I was done mentally, but I kept myself in it. I will not quit, I will just run one mile after the other. I have to prove to myself and everyone else that is tired of listening to me and my training plans, that I can do it. So, I put my head down, I grid out the miles.

Mile 18 is always my worst. LB usually drops me. We're heading back along Exposition, which means hills at the end. I pick up my knees, I dig in hard and keep going as hard as it is. My feet are swelling, my legs hurt, I am tired. Somewhere along 35th Street, I just stop hurting completely, it just lifts. I still have 4 miles to go and the hills. I pretend that it's just one of our morning runs when we roll over these hills for a 7 miler. I pretend that I have not just run 18.

I have NEVER felt this strong at the end of a run this long. I realize that this can be a really elusive feeling. I realize I should not get too excited or proud. But, truly, in my lifetime, this is only my 3rd run of 22 miles. Really.

Now, mentally, I have smashed the barrier. During Boston, I can recall this feeling, knowing that I have the capacity and it is possible.

LB tells me my number for Boston at the start of our run. It's even. I feel the card magically going in reverse, the pieces coming back together and reattaching to my mirror at home!

Four weeks to go!

Roller Coaster

2010-03-15T20:51:00.001-05:00

Ok, so I skipped a week -- of posts, not of training.

I have a good week and a not so good week; but I guess that's how training for a marathon goes. The minute you feel like everything is clicking along, something pops up.

I had signed up to do Moe's Better Half in San Marcos. I didn't want to do it and thought about not even going. We ran 11 the day before. I have NEVER run that far before a 1/2 marathon.

While I dreaded it, I actually had fun. I thought about it as a way to practice hills, water stops, and running while tired...running hills that is. Hills, twists, cows, llamas, and the finish and I end up second in my age group, not too shabby. I start feeling good.

Wrong.

My heel on my left foot starts to hurt. I skip a gym workout. My mileage drops. I aim to do a 22 miler, get a cramp in my calf and have to bail at 15! Now, I'm starting to worry.

What about my 3 22 milers. I won't get them in. What about my calf, is it tight or am I hurt? What about my heel, my foot, on and on...Oye vey, I can't stand the tape in my head.

People start to give advice. Kind of like they do when you are having your first baby. You don't really want to hear what they are telling you, but they tell you anyone. What will you wear? Do you know what you are eating? (eating, I'm not going to, just Gu thanks); what if it's hot? what if it's cold? Why are you eating that now? Why are you drinking that wine?

I call Gilbert in a panic, my calf, I say, afer, I am sorry to bother you...again. He tells me to stretch and laughs at how tight my hamstrings and calves are...Look at this...he calls to Bernard and Michael to show them my nearly snapping calves. Red, you are always tight, but this is ridiculous. Then I do some insanely dorky foot exercises barefoot on someone's lawn. Now do this, he says, now that, now pigeon toed. I'm beginning to think there's a hidden camera somewhere. We laugh at how silly I look.

But, the calf is looser. Tomorrow, I will go to the gym and not run (horrors) Drink more water he says, get a massage. Time to just listen to coach.

Week 7: Challenges

2010-03-05T14:41:00.002-06:00

Well, we're in to single digits now...less than 7 weeks to go. This week was a bit of a challenge as my husband, who hasn't traveled for work in years, had to travel this week.

Literal "scheduling gymnastics" took place to try to squeeze in runs here and there between driving the kids in the AM and pick up and extra curricular activities in the PM. Sometimes I had to "sneak" them in during the day.

I'm a bit behind in mileage as this week should have been a build week. As of today, I'm at 19 miles, with a medium long run and Moe's 1/2 marathon on Sunday. This still doesn't even get me to 45 miles for the week. I feel like I'm running all the time, but other folks are doing 60-70 miles weeks and I'm starting to stress. I feel like I'm playing beat the clock and I'm truly starting to hate my Garmin which seems to constantly tell me how far behind I am. I contemplate running without it just to run and have fun.

On Thursday, I headed to the trail later in the day for 7. I wanted to do 10 or 11, but just didn't have time. I pass some dudes from the fire department who were on a bike ride. The leader of the group was nice enough to tell me "on your left" and that there were about 5 guys on bikes. I thanked him and they made some joke about trying to catch up to me.

When next they come up on me, they ride next to me for a few seconds and ask me what I am training for. Whew, at least I look like someone training for something and not a total sloth out there. "Boston" I say. One guy says he qualified years ago and never went. He says he really regrets it. He asks me where and when I qualified and how my training has been going. The next guy says he ran it two years ago and that it totally lived up to the hype. Then one of the guys says, hey you are running a really good pace, good luck with the training. They all say good luck and move on.

As discouraged as I am, I take this as a sign to keep at it. After all, they didn't have to encourage me at all, they could have just kept going. The guy who regrets not going really struck me. How many times have I felt like this is way too much to take on with the family needs and work demands? That, plus the pressure of knowing I am not running enough or going to the gym enough.

I try to stop looking at my watch and enjoy the pretty day, the people, the babies and the sun, so absent from Austin for so long it seems.

This weekend, more scheduling gymnastics as soccer season begins for both kids...with Aidan playing 4 games in two days and Lourdes with one...here we go...

My expectations for Moe's are low...wish I hadn't registered in my own name...

What? Just 15 miles, nice

2010-02-27T19:01:00.002-06:00

Week eight was a "recovery" week. I actually made it to two Gazelle workouts -- Meridien hill repeats and tempo run.

Meridien was a serious challenge as it was raining and cold, weather that soon turned to snow? or hail. The Boston group was to do 5 or 6 and these are brutal as they roll up and down and it's quite a challenge for me, but I tried to hang with the group. I didn't really warm up enough, but I had to get it done. We also ran up the hill backwards and sprinted. Fun Stuff!

Thursday was tempo day. Basically, a throw down. We warmed up for three miles, hit the bridge at Congress where Bernard was supposed to be, but wasn't and we took off. I started out with Ian and Jimmy and they quickly dropped me, but I tried to keep them in my sights the whole time and not give up. When you are alone, it's really tough to keep the time, but I did ok, dropping it some each mile. When I crossed the finish, Jimmy and Ian were already there, but the whole group of Gazelles was cheering everyone coming across which really made you want to dig it out.

Bernard asked us where we all were, since he claims he was a the start. We think he left after the faster people :-)

I made it to the gym twice (miracle) and did the 15 miles today for the long run. Compared to last week, the 15 miles actually felt short even with all the hills at "Lollipop" in the end. I hung and didn't complain. I had one moment where my calf tightened up and a very fast guy was a the water stop. He asked us the direction. He said he'd been running with Gilbert (now that's fast). We told him he could do the hill ahead or go back the downhill way. He said, I don't want to be a cry baby and give up now. I seriously thought he was channeling LB, who is on a cruise this week...it was kind of spooky.

I did the hill, we finished up. Since it was just us girls, my fellow Jersey girl, Mo and my fellow over extended mom, Liz, we had quite the range of topics...there's lots to say in 15 miles.

Thanks Ladies! Week 7, a harder week ahead which is more complicated by Rolph having to travel, but somehow, I'll get the runs in.

Beat up after 22

2010-02-24T15:15:00.002-06:00

The culmination of a few weeks of build up, the big test, 22 miles. I arrive at RunTex Annex ready to go and pretty feisty about it. Mo is there, but LB is surprisingly and shockingly late. However, in pure LB fashion, he sends me a text to tell me he will be 7 minutes late. Exactly. I give him a little grief for lallygagging and he retorts, "We'll see about that at the end of the run." Ominous.

I should have kept my mouth shut. He was right.

I had a great first part of the run, in fact, great up until 18ish (just like San Antonio) For no reason at all, I start to crumble, complain, kvetch. I want to quit completely. I wonder why I'm signed up for Boston and what shopping I can do there instead while everyone else runs.

I mean, really, I was fine. My legs don't hurt any more than they are supposed to. I don't have a cramp, my feet don't hurt. I just slow down, like concrete blocks on my feet slow down. And, I am Jersey Girl angry about it!

I speed up and try to catch LB. I try to stay with Mo. They both pull away and I find myself grinding out the last several miles just watching their posteriors. Granted we added the hills at the end, not really following the pre-designated Gazelle route.

When their watches hit 22, they stop. My watch is STILL not at 22, so I have to keep going, shuffling along until the magic lap sound goes off. I trudge over the annex. I should have hid myself away, gotten in my car and slinked on home.

Gilbert asks me, are you OK Red? He seems to repeat this over and over as I gasp for an answer. Each time it seems he's getting louder and louder. If my face wasn't red to match my hair, I would be totally shocked!

After my great 18 miles the week before, I am humbled. I thought I was on track, that I was training up well. It's a mere 4 miles more and I crashed and burned.

I spend the day thinking about what it was...what I could have done differently aside from not being a smart alec to LB.

It's the red wine says Coach M; Gilbert says it's eating and drinking...which one should or shouldn't I be doing I wonder?

Luckily, there are 2 more attempts for me at this distance. Next time, I will keep my mouth shut at the start and just dread it quietly.!

Too Much Gras in my Mardi

2010-02-18T21:05:00.002-06:00

Our good friends K and M Manceaux invited us to a Mardi Gras party on, yes, Tuesday. I repeatedly told Rolph that we were staying for one hour or so. That was it; the "or so." Remember, my husband is Latin...partying is part of his DNA.

But, before I go blaming him, I guess I was in the mood to throw down because after the house was empty and we were still there with full drinks, it was way past an hour "or so."

I decided not to get up at 4(ish) and gave myself a "sleep in." My body is used to getting up at 4 (ish) and so I do, without the alarm. But, I try, since when I wake up at 4 (ish) I have a raging red wine headache. And, it's Ash Wednesday, so I cannot eat much today to absorb the wine from last night.

I get A ready for school and L too. I take L to school and head to church while on a conference call (too much already). I head to church with A and then, luckily, I have my gear in the car. Best thing for a over consumption, you got it, a run. It will hurt, but at the end, I will be happier.

I head to the trail and it's a beautiful day. I change and take off. My legs are sore from the gym, the 18 miles and the 11 miles. I mean, they are sore. Ok, perhaps it's dehydration that's keeping them tight.

I plug away at it, because I have to put in at least 5 miles to hit my goal this week of a 45 mile week. I pound at it; I hear myself breathing and stepping. I try to extend and relax and not look at my watch. This time of day is so different from the morning when it's dark and empty. There are dogs, walkers, strollers, joggers, lunch time folks...it's kind of fun to see the trail in this light...literally.

I survive and clear the toxins. On Thursday, LB gets called to the a "suspicious package" so I have to improvise. I call him back and he tells me my tempo has to be at 7:15 or better. Well, I seriously do not feel up to this alone. This is a fault of mine I know. I head to Gazelles where Dan tells me to go to Zilker for 1000's. Ok, it's way too early for so much driving around Austin.

Anyway, I head there and do 2 x 2000 to warm up and the Gazelle's arrive, stealthfully. I hang with them for drills and hit the first lap. Dan reminds me that I should be doing 2K's because I am doing Boston. I'm already behind, but I do it. I hit the line when the Boston group is taking off for the next one, but I go with them anyway without rest.

Now, Gilbert says to me, oh I forgot you might be here. Then he tries to hand me gloves because he doesn't like my mittens, but I just can't stop for them, so I head out.

I end up with 3 x 1000 on top of the 2K. The last 1000 at 3:55. My legs hurt. They've hurt since Tuesday; I'm tired. I actually have trouble sleeping. You would think with all this training, I would be out like a light, but I'm not. If I could sleep in the middle of the day for a bit, that would help. But, I can't...I'm a mom, I drive, I work.

Today, for the first time, I wondered...I am so tired and cranky, is it worth it? Could I even sleep if I had the time?

Nine Weeks and Counting

2010-02-15T09:44:00.004-06:00

Today started with a great 11 mile run -- Longhorn Dam Route plus a little. I love this run as LB and I did it repeatedly before San Antonio and it's really peaceful in the early AM hours out there. I also like the idea of starting the week with a run longer than 7 miles. It kind of sets the week in motion.

We talked a lot about the Austin Marathon, held on Sunday, 2/14. LB's wife ran in it as well as lots of Gazelles and Gilbert himself. It's always amazing to actually be out there as a spectator to see how people challenge themselves. The physical and mental fortitude it takes to run a marathon is tremendous. It's a great reminder for me as I think I have forgotten that part.

The shoe debate continues. A from SPI thinks I should be wearing Brooks. I finally got a pair of Asics Gel Nimbus 11 in narrow and have put off wearing them. I broke down today put them on. I've already sent back two pair already as the toe box on the right foot feels too big. But my other shoes are so worn out and A told me that I should retire them..they are not doing my feet any good. The new shoes felt great, no pain post run. Now, just time to get them dirty; they are too clean.

Wine Cap of the Week

2010-02-14T20:21:00.002-06:00

This week was pretty decent, all things considered. I ended up with 41.28 miles for the week, with a great 18 mile run on Saturday. I had trouble sleeping on Thursday night and ended up getting out of bed a little after 4 to go to the gym.

Thursday's run was tough and my foot started to hurt. I left LB and went flying over to the RunTex Annex to see if Pieter was there. I open the Annex door and don't say a word to anyone. Pieter is there and no one is waiting to see him...Gilbert looks at me and says, You don't look happy Red, what happened. I don't say a word and head to straight to Pieter. I hop up on the table and Pieter goes to work. He tries to calm me down by talking about that Jersey Shore show...ok, first of all, those people are not from NJ....Crack, twist, adjust, turn this way, turn that way, all the while Pieter keeps me talking. He knows me well enough know to know he has to distract me. Finally, I sit up. Ok, I say, how's the cuboid. Honestly, he says, it's not that bad. You did the right thing and came to me right away. The ankle was too tight and that was putting pressure on your cuboid. Gilbert comes over and gives me a high five and asks me how far I ran...it's all about the numbers (see earlier blog entry)

Saturday was a tough run, with hills following the first 15 miles. LB said, let's do one Wilke, it will be good. I honestly thought he was kidding so I went along with him and made the left turn to do Wilke. I hate Wilke. It's huge and I can hardly get up without wanting to rip my lungs out. I said to LB, you're kidding right? Well, he says in his understated manner, you can do it or be a wuss. Really? Ok, I head half way up and stop and let LB go. I know he won't stop; it's not part of his DNA. I turn off my Garmin and wait for him to come back down.

I'm not messing with my foot on a training run. I tell him. He says nothing at first. Then, in the LB fashion, changes the subject to let me know that the house at the top of the hill is for sale....for $850,000. If you lived here, he says, you could do Wilke every day. Hmm...I say. This is basically the, if you made it to the top of the hill, you would have discovered this too, but you didn't, you stopped and waited. I repeat some lame thing about my foot and continue on running. I think it's pretty damn good that I'm doing 18, let alone Wilke.

The night before we were at a 40th birthday party for a friend. My good friend, neighbor and lifetime chef for Thanksgiving, ROLANDO BENAVIDEZ is there with his lovely wife and my comadre, T. I try not to mention running or that I have to leave early, have to watch what I eat, have to not drink to much, need water....etc. Suddeenly, Rolando asks me, so, Guera (that's what he calls me...basically, white chic); whatcha running tomorrow? Ugh, here we go, down the slippery slope of the running schedule. I'm in the midst of the hard training, I say. Ok, how far? 18 I mumble...18, cabron. There we go, into the whole running conversation. I tried, but there it is. I like that he's calling my Eye Rollers the ER's! Anyway, T and my other very good friend, PM, are running together and I know I will see them out there.

After Saturday's run, A from SPI is in the Annex and adjusts me and works on my feet. She too thinks the cuboid is holding out ok, but that my shoes are shot. Oh Boy, the shoes, I know, it's a huge dilemma. I keep wearing the old ones since the new ones feel strange.

I LOVED that my good friends in DC -- my very good friend and fellow Jersey Girl and her husband are reading my blog and following along on this journey with me! Thanks L and J! Thanks to all my blog followers and my friends who are so supportive and, of course, my family...they are so proud of every long run, every accomplishment.

Valentine's Day...they got me a big red roller to roll out my muscles...Perfect!

10 Weeks to Go

2010-02-10T07:31:00.002-06:00

It's kind of shocking how long and how short 10 weeks seems all at the same time. When I first looked at the schedule for Boston, it seemed so far away, now there's 10 weeks -- that's it.

Hard training for eight weeks, one week to taper and race week. Wow! Here's where I start to get scared and very obsessed with the numbers -- how many miles, what time, etc.

I also still have a cold which isn't helping.

I ran Monday and the minute I got out there, the Heavens opened up. Of course, I had waited for it to clear up. With my chest cold and now being completely soaked to the skin, I pulled up a little after 4 miles.

Aidan had practice with Bernard later that night, so I figured somehow I would get another mile in there.

Well, Monday night it got very cold and windy. I headed to add my mile when my daughter fell and skinned her knee...she's determined to run, but we headed back to the car.

Here's the thing about Gazelles. My friend R., who is doing the Austin Marathon this coming weekend, was out there and borrowed a pony-tail holder from me. She came back to my car to return it. She really didn't have to. But, she did and she sat in my car for a few minutes entertaining my daughter so I could get my mile in. She knows how important the mileage is. Thank you R! (I know R well people, so don't get all crazy about me leaving my kid with someone!)

And, Bernard waited for me to get back too...I was gone all of 8 minutes, but the miles got logged for the day.

Tuesday, up at a crazy hour to meet LB by 5 AM to do 11 miles. My legs felt stiff, but LB, who keeps incredible records from the past trainings, reminds me that we are running more and better than when we trained for San Antonio. I feel assured by that. Perhaps this aging athlete's body is learning to absorb the tough training.

I would really like to get in a 65 - 70 mile week before Boston, but I think my body cannot handle it. The most I ever did before San Antonio was 45 miles. I will have to live with 50-55.

Today, I read about elites training for Austin who put in 100 miles weeks...amazing. I can't wait to watch them on Sunday!

W3: Weak Wilke Workout

2010-02-06T19:50:00.003-06:00

Wilke is not to be messed with. I've never done very well at Wilke, but on Tuesday, I decided that perhaps I was in good enough shape to head out there with the Boston group of Gazelles. Boy, was I wrong.

First of all, I've had a head and chest cold since 3M. I laid off a bit hoping to get better, but truthfully, I was still hacking up a lung. My friend and fellow Boston Mom in training, L. had the same thing. We were running along like two smokers who had just quit. We stayed together and left early. Thank God for L. Group after group kicked my butt. I had to walk up after three. I only did five, no sprints and none backwards.

Ah well, chalk it up. I've got some work to do, but I have to get better.

Delayed and Windy 3M: Race Report

2010-01-27T16:39:00.006-06:00

Before I even forget the details of the race, I need to get this race report rolling!

The night before, my good friends parents celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary with a Mass a party of 450 people. Rolph and I were so honored to be included and it truly was a great time with, yes, dancing in high heels. So, while I had just one glass of wine (imagine that!), my feet did hurt a bit from the dancing. And, I felt terribly guilty leaving so early, but I HAD to go to bed.

I woke up at 4ish and did the usual pre-race super OC crazy stuff. The crew which now included my Jersey girl Mo and her peeps, my Dallas pal, CW and my Austin team AT and LB gathered at LB's office and carpooled up to the start.

After much consternation over which shoes to wear and actually taking a car by car poll, I put on the old Mizuno Precisions and put the timing tape on it. I think my carload of folks just wanted me to shut up! Once the timing tag was on, I had one less thing to stress over. I do get pretty OC before races...just ask LB.

Speaking of LB, I tossed by shirt when the race was supposed to start and he picked it up. Lucky for him as it kept it him warm while we waited. Lucky for me, he tossed it to his wife who was a spectator this year and I got it back!

We headed to the start at 6:40ish. The race was billed to start early at 6:45 AM on the dot. LB and I scooted in by some familiar Gazelle faces. 6:45, 6:46, and so on and so on. Evil comes over the airwaves to tell us there is a race delay. Barricades are blowing down and the City of Austin will not let us start until they are back up. This could take a while. And it did, about an hour. Did I mention it was windy...natural wind and gross wind. I mean, people, it was a crowd of people near you, could you not move away to expel that!

Speaking of LB, I tossed by shirt when the race was supposed to start and he picked it up. Lucky for him as it kept it him warm while we waited. Lucky for me, he tossed it to his wife who was a spectator this year and I got it back!

So, by the time we're ready to roll, LB and I almost bailed. Caffeine was gone, urge to run was gone and I was actually feeling kind of tired. We decided to ditch the plan and just run a long run when the gun went off.

We started a bit slow for our usual, but we had to warm up now. My feet hurt right away, I mean they hurt. I thought to myself that I would never make it to the end. I wanted to bail, again.

About mile 6, my hamstring starts to cramp. I wait and keep running. LB, my hamstring is cramping, I announce about a mile later. He mutters some assurances and tells me to try to run with a bit different stride. But now, I'm getting nervous. I mean, it hurts...it is tight. And, I really don't want to be stupid and get hurt at 3M and not do Boston.

We pass by the relay exchange and the fresh runners are jamming by us. Next is the turn onto Burnet...the part of the course I hate the most. I start to get pissed. I mean, I have practiced this course so many times. I decide that I am not giving in to this...not that pain in my feet, not the hamstring, not the negative thoughts. I am going to speed it up and bit and get going. Besides, now I want to get done.

I see a woman in blue shorts running pretty strong and I decide to focus on not losing her and possibly catching up to her.

Finally, we turn on North Loop. Now, this I've got. I have run this over and over. People around me to start to fade on the rolling hills. I accelerate again. I have done this, I can do this. I will not give up. The next hill, I pass a guy -- 25 points. I pass another guy by the cemetery who had been way ahead of me. I refuse to look at my watch or look back. LB is behind me now. I'm waiting for him to come up on me as he always does on the hills.

I turn on Duval. I see girl in blue shorts and catch her. I forget what we say, but they were compliments. I ask her how old she is. I'm 27 she says, Whew, I think. And, I'm doing the relay. OMG, no wonder she seems so fresh. She offers to help push and pull and I accept her offer. By Mother's, I'm feeling really good and going faster up the hill. Not too much more, I tell myself. Blue shorts is behind me now.

I head to UT. Lots of traffic and people are up out of their cars complaining to the cops. They are blocked since the race started so late. I know this last stretch and I cannot give up. I have to finish strong. The wind whips so hard around the stadium that I can barely catch my breath. Once at MLK, I"m home free. I see Michael Madison over to my right and smile. I think he called out to me. I'm pushing, harder and harder. I know Gilbert will be near the end somewhere and I want him to see me working really hard and pushing as much as I can.

His hand stretches out suddenly from the left. RED, he shouts and I smile. I know he's surprised that I'm smiling as the last few races I have been quite unhappy at the end. Now, I feel great and push even harder.

I see the number on the clock and realize that I will not hit or beat my personal record. But, in my heart, I am ok with that. I really wanted to grab a 1:32 or better, but given that I started so slow and had to deal with the cramp, I am not surprised by the time. I come through the finish and pump my hands in the air. I FEEL GREAT! My foot holds out even though they hurt, the cuboid has not collapsed. I ran negative splits, I ran hard. I find girl in the blue shorts and hug her. Thank you, I say, thank you. Did you do it? she asks me. I know she's asking if I PR'd. I just say yes, yes, I did it, thank you for helping me.

Chip Time: 1:34:17; Age group 40-44 4th; Female overall: 42
Mile one: 7:38
Mile two: 7:34
Mile three: 7:25
Mile four: 7:05
Mile five: 7:00
Mile six: 7:14
Mile seven: 7:18 (hamstring killing me)
Mile eight: 7:23 (really slowing down here)
Mile nine: 7:15 (getting pissed)
Mile 10: 7:09 (getting my groove)
Mile 11: 7:01
Mile 12: 7:05
Mile 13: 6:54
.01: 0:42

I need to still work on being consistent, but I'll take! See you next year 3M!

Seaside and Sugar Cookies

2010-01-16T23:22:00.002-06:00

So, truth be told....I spent my summers at Seaside. It was not at all like the Jersey Shore Show on MTV and, BTW, those people are from Staten Island...New York, not Jersey.

Anyway, to me, Seaside was great. The beach, the waves, the boardwalk. We never got a fancy house or place and we slept on the floor sometimes, but as a kid, what could be better.

Sat. longish, really medium long run, was great. Met my good friends, LB, back from Bandera, AT, and my new Jersey Girl friend who brought me sugar cookies for my b-day. What could be better? We did 1/2 of the 3M course in reverse and came back on it. I hate this part of the course, so it was good practice.

Lots of very hard running...but it was good running. I was able to really pick it up at the end, after I was tired.

It's been an odd week....I turned 44, my Godmother passed away from cancer and my cousin's child is in the hospital. I'm so far away here in Texas.

Today, I went to party for a wonderfully exuberant and intelligent 6 year old friend of my daughter who has very cool parents. The very Latin party lasted more than four hours...then off to my very dear friend's house to visit. They surprised me with a cake and more friends from the old hood....

I feel so blessed...Thank you!

Stupid Human Tricks: Take 44

2010-01-14T20:08:00.003-06:00

Just when you think it's safe to go outside....um, you trip over your own two feet. I have never professed to be particularly graceful or athletic and I think I prove that daily. I definitely proved it the other day.

In my fit to "follow the schedule" and "not miss a work out" (remember Chris Farley here); I decided to sleep in (until 6 am) and go to the gym at lunch (horrors). Of course, then I was pressed for time (shocker) and had to drive like a maniac to the gym and get it done.

I got my new shoes -- Asic, Gel Nimbus 11, size 9.5 2A (narrow) (real shoe size is 7); anyway, I hate them. Whether it be the cheaply made shoes (I'm thinking they are knock-offs) or my lack of agility, my jog to the door of the gym ended up with me on the ground...all ghostly white long arms and legs in-o-so-understated-green shorts, cap and short. I must have nicked the sprinkler head and it sent me sprawling as if it were ice. I landed hard on my left hip and elbow. But, wait, the kicker, I nicked my right foot, you guessed it, right below the cuboid bone. Seriously.

Pause. Did I mention how well I have felt on my last two runs?

I wanted to cry, scream and go totally Jersey. Little children were asking me if I was ok. I wanted to cry like a 4 year old. It hurt so badly I was afraid that something was broken. I decided to pretend that it wasn't, dust myself off and go inside to get my work out.

My foot hurt, it throbbed. I took my shoe off and looked. It was already bruised, but it was not near the cuboid bone. If it was broken, it would be swollen, right?

My elbow was bleeding some, and my hip was bruising up. But, boy, was I mad at myself. I went back outside at the end to see where I had tripped. I didn't see a sprinkler head that was protruding enough for me to trip over.

Just my own grace and finesse, I suppose. Maybe it's the big toe box of these Asics...that's it. I'm packing them up and sending them back. Both pair

17 Degrees and 2 Jersey Girls in Austin?

2010-01-11T16:33:00.002-06:00

Time for training on the course for 3M; except it's 17 degrees in Austin, Texas, not Parsippany, New Jersey. I mean it is cold and this Jersey girl has lost her ability to deal with the cold anymore. I mean, I am a total wimp...and, I hate to wear tights.

I convince my new found Jersey Girl and Gazelle, Mo to come on down from Ft. Hood and run with the Gazelle's on Sat in the freezing weather. We start later than normal, a luxurious 7 AM! I drive to the start and off we go.

We kvetch at each other for a few miles as any Jersey Girl would. We start WAY too fast. I mean, like I see Duane fast, and I tell her we have to slow this train down or we'll never make it to the end. We want to do 15 at least. If she drove all the way from Ft. Hood, I cannot bail at 13!.

Tights and all, we hammer it out. I have to stop twice, which is a drag, but Mo is a good sport about it. We really pick it up at the end, coming down North Loop and turning onto Duval. I am really pushing through campus but decide to dial it back for the last bit. I want to quit and go home, I know we need to add on before we hit RunTex, so we head by the Statesman and make a loop which feels like the longest mile ever. I mean my legs are sore and I haven't even stopped yet.

We hit 15 and change and we head into the annex where some pseudo stretching has begun. We shoot the proverbial S#$t for a bit and then head out. A new Gazelle stops us and asks us for a ride to her starting point. She suggest we drop her on the ramp at Anderson Lane...and, we do. It's odd, but there are no cars behind us and we're all ok with it...Her birthday is this week too...all these Capricorns.

If only I had those lighter shoes...

Trollin' for Lighter Shoes

2010-01-08T07:20:00.002-06:00

Here's where it gets sticky. When I actually have options and I'm trying to figure out what I should do and what will help me get there.

So, I had the chance to go to Gazelles for 800's do I go? No. I met my friend A.T. earlier and cranked out 7 miles on the Exposition route. My explanation, I need more rolling hills training. I have a good 18 miles in for the week now before the long run. And, just in time before the cold snap. It was a decent run, although I'm fast getting tired of the route, but I have to learn to push hard on the hills when I'm tired.

Since I was finished early, I headed to the track to get my fix. Before I even get out of the car, I hear Gilbert screaming, RED! I trot over and give him a big hug. "You having a good new year Red?" he asks me like he knows something is wrong. He's already seen me since the New Year but he's got this way. I change the subject by admiring his new Falke jacket. Where'd you get that one, I like, I try to divert him. "Just for me, Red, coaches jacket."

I ask Gilbert if he thinks my foot will hold in a lighter shoe for the 3M. The Asics that I am wearing are pretty heavy. He looks at my feet and says nothing...that is not a good sign. He turns away to coach the group.

Troy from Sports Performance is there and, as always, he's wondering how things are coming along. How does the foot hold out on the long runs? How far have I gone? How far did I just run? How fast am I running? I tell him honestly that the foot will hold for the 1/2 marathon, but I'm not really sure how it will be beyond that. I'm worried. Come in, he says, let's keep working on it.

I hang for a while shootin' the breeze with some Gazelles. Kenny Hill is training for Austin. He's always such a huge inspiration to me. He's such an encouraging coach. He was one of the first people to tell me I HAD to do Boston. I ask him if he's going to Boston this year. He says, "No, but I'll see you there in 2011, Red."

Dude, I've got to get through 2010.

Oh, back to the shoes. I think the answer is probably not. Gilbert pointed out some shoes, told me a shoe to try which I already can't remember since I'm that aging athlete....the mind goes first.

2010 Journey to B-town

2010-01-05T11:20:00.003-06:00

2010, it's hard to get my head around the fact that the 1990's are over, let alone a complete decade of the 2000's. My son, born in 1999, just turned 10; my daughter, just completed her 5th year! Yikes...that means that I have that many more wrinkles.

I want to try to return to regular blogging for 2010. Let's see how the resolution holds. I am on this journey to Boston and I'm hoping writing about it here will give me an outlet from all the "eye rollers" who think I'm crazy to train and to run so much. P.S., there are worse vices.

Let me just pat myself on the back for a minute for actually running during the holidays while in Jersey...it was cold, dim and tough. The naysayers were out in force but they motivated me all the more to do track workout and to run in 16 degree weather. Keep telling me I'm nuts -- it's helping me.

I've already met some great new folks in the Gazelle group training for Boston. Even another Jersey girl, which gives me great comfort! No worries about dropping the f-bomb there (sorry Gilbert) but it's part of the vernacular in Jersey!

My challenge with Gazelle's is my son's morning car pool to school. So, with schedule in hand, I can only participate in Gazelle's as often as the car pool works out, which isn't that much, since the other guy travels a great deal. This issue is driving me crazy. I like my routine, so I am constantly trying to sort out how to get the workouts in. And, I hate to run alone, which also makes it tough.

So far, the most I can plan on is the Saturday long run. I get my Gazelle fix and get to do some good running. Fortunately Lorenzo Blanco is always willing to meet at 5 AM should a workout require that extra early hour.

The other challenge is that I am so dog tired by 8/8:30. When you get up at 4:20, you are toast by that time. By the way, I get lots of eye rolls for that too...reminding people how early I rise.

Anyway, note to self, blog more, talk less; there are no eyeballs rolling.

San Antonio - post race report

2009-11-24T22:21:00.002-06:00

Well, has anyone told you how humid it was? I actually thought it was about 71% humidity, until I learned later that it was more like 94% humidity.

I loved seeing all the Gazelle's before and during the race, especially, my crew, AW, CC, AT, Double D. I really loved seeing CR, Leslie, and CW at the start. I was excited for them and hopeful. They don't know it, but they helped relax me.

I started out ok, probably the wrong placement and too fast for the weather. But, I was unaware. I made the cardinal mistake and started too fast, feeling too pressed by my previous times. I ran with some guys from the National Guard...they were helpful and supportive. Tall Dan came up and ran with me for awhile and really cheered me on.

I ate the hill, that was good. Saw LB twice. Dan cheered more great thoughts my way. Karen S ran alongside me for a bit which really gave me a boost. Gilbert picked up my Hail Mary at the exact spot in the prayer where I was...this is now the second time he's done this and it freaks me out. But, I know I am fading. Too fast fades to too slow to hit the number. Slow gets slower, now I am hanging on to qualifying for New York. A marathon I won't even go too...I know this, but it gives me something to strive for. I try, I push, I kick what I can.

I cross the finish, congratulate the women that I worked with on the course, pick up my stuff, change, sit on the curb and start to cry. I'm alone, no one I know is nearby, no Gazelles, no family. A poor showing for me. I haven't trained well; I tossed out the plan. I pick myself up and head to watch for my friends.

Good news, my foot held out. It doesn't swell, I am walking. I watch the elite marathoners come in and wonder what that is like.

Running and Mothering: The Obstacles

2009-11-10T21:46:00.002-06:00

Well, I've been absent from blogging. Honestly, I just had to let something go. I have to say, that it's a struggle sometimes to get it all done. And, I'm not the most organized.

The flu kicked my Jersey butt. My son got "it", and then I did. The first week that I felt sick, I ran anyway. My family hates when I do that. But, seriously, anything above the shoulders, you run. In the chest, depends. Below the belt, definitely not!

So, then, since my immune system was compromised, when my son fell ill, I, naturally, got it. I have to say, the pain was horrible. I've had shingles, which can be painful. But with this flu, I ached through to my hip bones. It hurt to lay down.

Running suffered as a result and I am so not where I wanted to be for the San Antonio 1/2 Marathon. Aside from that, I have a killer over committed weekend with a 1/2 marathon in it.

I'm disappointed. I'm admitting it. I had some hopes to see the old Red at SA. But, now, I have to let it go. I honestly feel so unprepared. It's like not studying enough for the test. I can't wing it, but I will have to.

It might be a good lesson for me. Letting go. Just doing it. The problem that I have is that I don't know when to push harder or if I am. I don't know how to gauge it yet.

I ran hard today along the Endfield. I was pissed. I was mad that I'm not as disciplined as I should be, that I didn't get up to run on Saturday, that I stopped going to the gym.

If I'm going to have a good race in Boston, I have got to hunker down.

Silicon Melting

2009-09-29T19:46:00.002-05:00

Well, finally, Silicon...no, not the kind you stick in your chest wall, the Relay!

I signed up with LB and friends to do the Silicon Labs Marathon Relay. The last relay I did was Ragnar -- which was much harder and longer. But, I haven't raced since I my foot injury -- that is my unremarkable injury.

I have to admit I was horribly nervous. I used to get like this ages ago, but then one year I raced a ton and got over the jitters, but got hurt. I'd rather have the jitters.

I was the last...the caboose, they called it. I prefer clean up. I headed downtown with kids in tow as Rolph had a soccer game. The kids did fine. Although I did my OC thing and called LB a million times trying to find him, they were parked near the Gazelles. When we showed up Gilbert had just finished his leg and he came over to say hi to the kids. Yes, me, chopped liver!

Then Bernard came by and he was sweating. This scared me. I mean here is a dude who didn't break a sweat in August at night for a 10K. I said, Bernard, seriously, what's up, you are drenched? It's hot out there Red. Ok, got it. Now I want to puke.

I head to the corral to find the entrance and pester LB many more times about where I go in and when. How he puts up with me at races, I truly do not know. I kissed the kids and left them with LB with strict instructions to behave.

I waited behind a tall dude for the shade. I swished water and spit it out. I was nervous.

T came in and I headed out. My legs were like cement blocks. I had not warmed up enough at all. Trudge, trudge. Come on old girl I yell internally, get moving. I decide not to look at my watch at all. I start to pass people. LB gives me strict instructions not to let anyone pass me. I feel awful and want to quit. This also happens to me in every single race. I always want to quit.

I start to hit a groove and a guy starts to run with me. Good pace he says. We start to talk and I realize that while it's a good distraction, I'm slowing down. Still, I won't look. He eventually takes off without a word and I feel myself sink some more.

I turn down First. I think, If Gilbert sees me running this slow, he'll be yelling. But Gilbert is not there. I'm partially glad and partially disappointed, but I kick it in. I heard Evil call my team number and start digging, harder and harder. I see the time and I know what the team had hoped for...we are under.

I cross the line, relief, no puking...I head for the kids and show up at the tent quite like I just went to the loo and came back. Oh hey, you are back. Yeah, I'm done. My last little bit (.15) was fast, but I mistook that for my average pace. For a minute I was proud. Until I realized that I really had positive splits and just got slower and slower.

It was hot (10:15 am). But, I had so much fun being out there, seeing everyone and running. It was great to be back.

13.7 in the Pouring Rain

2009-09-12T17:48:00.002-05:00

It's raining in Austin, but I'm not complaining, we need it desperately.

I actually do wake up during the storm and make the mistake of asking LB if we are still meeting to run. Of course, we are.

I head out to the designated meeting point and we load up and head to the start.

It is cold standing in the rain, so I decided to just go. I get frustrated waiting and, I have to admit, I'm slightly irritated and pensive at the same time. Yesterday marked 8 years since 9/11, I was in NY, and I always have a lot to think about. This year, I feel like I should have done more to help other people. I was very humbled to read about all the volunteers and what they did to help others. I think I was in shock, somewhat, but in any event, I want to think about that while running.

So, I don't wait for LB or DD, I just go. My foot hurts, in spite of a session with Pieter, and I am worried about it. I decided to stop thinking about my foot and try to remember some thinks about 9/11...so much of it is still a blur and memories come back in pieces.

It's raining very steadily. M Woo comes up with the group of guys and says, Hey Alicia. Hey. That's it. I am concentrating and move over for the guys to pass me. But, either they are not running super fast yet (warming up) or I am running pretty well. In any event, I decided to stay with them for as long as I can and I do. It feels great, but I know I can't hold it.

I stop at the water stop and wait for LB and DD. The rest of the run goes pretty well with many sub 8 min. miles. I bonk a little at the end, but I figure it's ok. My legs are sore and my foot is swelling, but I am less weighed down by the past, by the visions, by the nightmares...I let it go till next year.

B-side

2009-09-09T22:11:00.001-05:00

Well, it's official, filled out the form and sent in the registration. Now, got to stay healthy, not mess up my foot by standing in high heeled shoes at concerts and not lose my keys for the millionth time.

Tigger - I'm the Only One!

2009-08-20T21:59:00.002-05:00

Saturday we headed out and I wanted to try to extend my medium long run by one mile. Just one.

It was a point to point run, so I had to meet my crew part way into the run. I saw LB's truck at my designated parking spot, so I was curious. I watched Gazelle after Gazelle go by. Finally, LB and DD showed up. DD was hurting already. I thought she'd tied one on the night before, but she just did not have enough fuel. So, before we started, DD had to eat.

Off we go. I felt really good -- for a change. At the first water stop, we saw Gilbert and I pulled off to catch up with him for a bit. I sent the kids ahead and then hit the ladies room...that is, ladies pit stop bush.

Next water stop, we hook up with PK, who is going to Boston too. I always like to see PK, he has good energy. We talk a bit and head out.

After the next water stop, I start to feel really good and start pushing. I haven't felt like this in a very long time, so I just keep going. All of a sudden -- way into this run-- I look down and realize that I do not have my car key any longer. Now, granted, I have done this before. I cannot believe that I just now realized that the key was gone. It's a big key on a Tigger key chain -- you can't miss it or drop it without noticing.

I'm pissed at myself. Worse, I can't recall when I saw it last. I'm only 43 for goodness sake. I would curse here, so just imagine it.

Anyway, I go to OC mode (obsessive compulsive). I borrow LB's phone and call Gilbert -- no answer. I run more, I think more, I beat myself up more. Now, I'm running pretty good. I think about having to call my husband to get up and drag my two kids out to pick me up and break into my car. I run harder. My shoulders tighten, my back aches.

At the end, LB hands me the phone and I call Gilbert again. "My sister Red, what's up?" I try to be calm...Hey G, did you happen to see a key on a Tigger key chain? "Is that yours?" Yes. "Yes, I have it, Red, where are you?"

Milagro! I am so relieved, honestly. I just spent nearly $200 bucks for the last key I lost running. I love my Coach!

Whatev

2009-08-13T12:41:00.002-05:00

I know, it's not Whatever, think Jersey, it's "whatev." That's how I feel about my running this week.

I guess I had higher expectations that I would be more like my old self right now. I mean, ok, I drank too much wine on Friday, so bonked on Saturday. But, I've been behaving, and my last two 7 milers have, well, frankly, um, sucked. (this is called "can't take the Jersey out of the girl)

I'm kind of fed up with it all. I know I shouldn't be. But, on the one hand, Pieter wants me to run at a faster pace and do a speed workout with Gazelles. I just don't feel up to it. I am really struggling on these runs to find the groove, to run without pain or discomfort, to open up the stride.

Basically, I am not running with Joy as coach would say. I'm thinking, I'm adjusting, I'm watching my watch. I pull my knees higher, I watch my foot strike on the right leg, I stick my butt out while pulling my gut in (no easy task) and, I lean forward. I'm uncomfortable. I get one or two miles where I get into a groove and that's it.

I hear my breathing, I hear my plodding feet, I feel my gut go up and down while I run. I run "heavy". I am frustrated with myself and the negative tape plays over and over in my head. I beat myself up for needing an attitude adjustment so soon after coming back from a lovely, restful vacation.

I want to be light on my feet and enjoy the running again. I need to break through this week and my negative feelings. I need to bump up the miles (three weeks at 26 miles for the week) and I need to get over it and get to the track.

Running and Red, Red, Wine

2009-08-09T17:56:00.002-05:00

The neighbors have little gatherings during the summer on Friday nights. There are lots of times I don't go, either out of sheer fatigue from the week or because I know I'll be getting up early for my long run.

When I first started with the Gazelle's, I could barely finish a long run, especially in the summer. I bonked so many times, it was ridiculous. One Saturday, I walked all the way from the Omlettetre back to RunTex. It took forever and I was really struggling. Not too mention how I had to slink in to my car so no one would see me.

These days, I'm still trying to build on the miles and see how this old body reacts (see last AA blog entry) For three weeks now, I've run 26 miles or so for the week and I've stayed there and made it just fine. On the long runs, about mile 9 or 10, I start to get crabby --- ask LB.

So, back to Friday. I sauntered down to the cul-de-sac with my first wine glass of the night. I promised to keep it to 2. Well, Jersey Girl emerged and before I knew it, I was on to my third glass and talking smack. I also did not have lunch or dinner yet.

I wander home at the end of the evening regretting my mistake and knowing I'll regret more in the morning. All my neighbors have bet against me getting up in the AM and actually doing the run. Because they doubt me so, I force myself up, even though I know for sure I might still register a BAC number if I got stopped on the way to Lady Bird Lake.

Two cups of coffee and part of a cliff bar and drag myself to the car. On the way in, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody comes on. It's blaring out of my car at 5:20 in the AM when I pull in at the tennis courts. I'm kind of punchy and ready to go.

The first couple miles, I put down pretty easy and then I get a groove and feel great. Then I stop for water at the Jewish Center. I linger too long which was a big mistake. Combined with hills on the way back, I'm eating it by mile 9.5 and have to find a construction site.

Anyway, LB and Double D wait for me. Please don't wait for me, I nearly beg. I am hurting and I know the crab meister will be rearing her ugly head soon.

When we get to the MoPac bridge, LB and Double D stop for water. I'm not stopping, I yell, I just need to finish and off I go. I slug, I curse myself for all that Red, Red wine. But, I finish the run, it's not pretty, but I did.

The neighbors under-estimated my resolve!

AA - Not the Betty Ford Variety

2009-07-30T18:28:00.003-05:00

After falling out of my blissful vacation haze, I headed to Gazelle's for a Sat. long run. It was great fun, but I could feel the vacation around my mid-section, so that was really a drag.

I hadn't visited the SPI guys in a while and I headed in to Pieter feeling tentative about my beach running foot blow out, but pretty good about the distance I'd been able to amass in Austin.

Summer is weird in terms of which child has what camp when, so I brought my son Aidan along for this visit. We were chatting in the waiting room for Pieter to come retrieve me and, I honestly don't know how this came up, but my son said something about me getting older. I'm sure it was kind of direct and realistic, but so starts the visit.

Troy is quite fond of reminding me at visits that my body is cooperating because, well, I'm old.

Now, it was Pieter's turn to chime in. A few tweaks and manipulations and Pieter is actually quite pleased with progress in spite of the beach running incident. We twist, turn, pull, push. Aidan is off talking to Taylor about the skeletons.

My age raises it's head again. I swear, I am not the one bringing it up. Perhaps I was complaining.

Pieter has a new term for my category -- aging athlete. Not advancing athlete, alternative athlete....no, aging. Troy, Pieter and honestly, Aidan all have a good little chuckle over this one. I'll take it...at least they called me an athlete!

Una Cubita, Pues, Pues

2009-07-19T21:16:00.002-05:00

Ok, so, I just returned from the Dominican Republic, again...We love that country, what can I say. It was quite painful to return to the US and realize that I could not have a Presidente or Cuba Libre any time of the day. It was a much needed and restful vacation for Familia Sankar! Betty Ford Clinic, here I come!

In any event, LAST year, when I was faster and training harder, I ran 3 or 4 times on the beach in the DR. This year, I ran once...5 miles, but once. One time was all it took for the ham to raise it's ugliness inside my running shoe. So, I hit the gym instead at the resort and submitted to the Latin party side of me...ok, well, my husband is Latin, I'm Irish, but I pretend I'm a Latina.

This past Saturday, I braved a Gazelle long run. The Ragnar team was out in force and it was nice to see friends again. I was way behind the herd. Ah, that's my fate for now. I did run....drum roll....10 miles! It didn't feel too awful...what with Lorenzo Blanco and all the other cast of characters to chat with, including Double D and Dr. M.

It was really nice running in to DM and DV and catching up a bit.

I have to say, I'm really tired of being of injured. It seems like it's been an entire year. First the hip, then the foot. Forget 'bout it.

And, yes, my foot swelled up after the 10...if only I could have a permanent cold pool just to stick my foot in.

We'll see what the crew at SPI thinks this week...in the meantime...Una cubita, pues, pues...time for a cuba libre! I'm thinking of carrying some rum and cokes with me to the PT session! Wonder what Spears would say?

Pinky Gets Whacked!

2009-06-25T16:36:00.002-05:00

I'm a frequent flyer now at SPI. I should ask for the special club, with drinks and music while I wait for Dr. Spears!

Yes, it's been another month and I'm back in the room waiting for Dr. Spears. I brought my laptop and start to work. I figure this will keep my mind off of the dreaded "nutrition" talk and, I'm hoping I look busy so Spears will just send my right out to the torture pit, which is why I am here anyway.

So, Spears heads in and gets back up to speed on my foot. Not my speedy foot anymore, that is. We chatter and he reaches for the foot and starts poking at it. No way, I mean for many a visit, this did not happen. I'll take the nutrition speech over this any day. Pieter bounds in during the foot poking. Spears asks him how it's going (why do I feel like I'm not in the room). Pieter says, well, it's going, but slow. Ok, I just got thrown under the bus by the Dutchman! He must have bionic hearing from the torture room and realized Spears had not yet asked me about my nutrition. I give Pieter my best bad ass Jersey girl stare.

Seems now I have some issue with some muscles around the bone. The ask me to spread my toes. I try. You try it. It's not that easy. The pinky does not move. Spears seems excited about his new discovery. See? he says to Pieter. The jabber on in their physical therapy kind of speaking in tongues thing and I look at my Pinky toe. I mean, what the hell do you need your Pinky toe for anyway. I look at Pieter -- just cut it off, I don't need it. It doesn't work.

Off to the torture chamber with me.

Here we are at the table and Pieter starts demonstrating my continued lack of ability to move my pinky toe. Look at this, he tells the Riff Raff in the room...I'm a science experiment now. Pieter says, I don't do this a lot, but I'm going to massage your foot. I'm thinking, ok, it's the least you can do for throwing me in the grease with the doc and mocking my Pinky.

Next, more humiliation. This is going to seem silly, but we need to work on it. He tells me to spread my toes and hold my Pinky out there and resist the pressure he will apply. I think he's joking. He's not. I try to do it and I can't. Come On he says in that deep gutteral voice. I try again, nothing. I want to try a judo kick right about now. Again. Pieter urges. Now that is ridiculous. I glare at him...we both bust out laughing. It is pathetic I say.

Toes do need exercise apparently. We Pinky get skinny now with all this work?

3 for 3; 4 for ....???

2009-06-03T21:36:00.003-05:00

Sometimes it's all about the numbers. 6-8 weeks, 2 miles, 2 days, 3 miles, 3 days! Grumpy, Happy and Skinny! (that's 3!)

I don't know how many people remember Schoolhouse Rock; but it was awesome. There's a song, "3, it's a magic number!" It' true. My son and I used to listen to that song over and over; now he's nine, which is three times three, so, he's not interested in schoolhouse rock.

Two weeks ago, Pieter released me to run 3 miles, 3 days, not consecutively. Sounds simple, huh?

Well, of course, LB, every the loyal friend and running mate, met me for the big add on. I could not believe how winded and out of shape I was. LB, I said, I am really out of shape (mind you, I have been going to the gym and pool running). Yes, he says dryly, you are. That's what I love about LB, pure honesty, no bull.

Anyway, I get the 3 for 3 in. Then, I have to go on a one day business trip -- up and back to Colorado Springs. I make a huge error and ditch my running shoes in the car at the airport. Hours later, my foot is blowing up and I regret it. Next, the flight is delayed and I can only get to Denver for the night (supposedly). However, the plane arrives and when we get to Denver, I bust out like it's the Congress Avenue Mile, except I have my shoes in my hands, and my one foot and my ham of another foot are zooming toward the gate. Once again, I realize how out of shape I am.

3 miles climbs to 4, then the body breaks down. Too much driving, too much stress. Will I ever get to B-town. I feel the weight and slugishness climbing. The trainer at my gym needs to meet James Gandolfini...one more blow off and you should be at Strailes. I mean, give me a break, are you trying to make money or what?

After the visit with the matriach, new shoes, form analysis, a trainer who can't seem to get up at 5:30 and small skirmish in Kurundi: I'm moving on...4 miles, 3 times this week...Whatev....

2 Miles and many more to go till Boston 2010

2009-05-12T22:03:00.003-05:00

Well, here we are...at the beginning of a journey to Boston. It starts with 2 miles today.

Pieter released me to run two miles twice this week. Not without a raised eyebrow and a sullen stare that would ice your bodily fluids... "Just 2; not consecutive days and no pool running immediately after the 2 miles." Damn...too many blogs, he knows me now as he's giving very specific instructions.

I have to admit that I have been very blue this whole time. Ok, blue is a nice way of saying, I've been a complete witch, but with a b. (Sorry Gilbert)

Anyway, I headed to the trail today to meet LB who I last saw as he ran the Bun Run.

We ran 2 miles. Seriously. Mostly, we talked about life, dogs, retirement, or not, core work outs, poor trainers and plans for Boston. Yes, Boston...a year away. I am a planner. At least for 26.2 miles. LB is one of a very few people who doesn't mind talking about running and the race that is a year away over and over and over.

Anyway, imagine how it felt to see the same guy with the Ford Explorer who parks at the tennis courts every day and walks his dog; the three old guys that walk together every morning; and, wait, a Gazelle, a Gazelle, Tall D, a Gazelle.

I get a shout out from another LB...great to see you running. Thanks, I yell. And, it feels so great. The crunch of the trail under my shoes (yes, still Mizunos), chatting with LB.

There's a heaviness to my breathing and my body (ok, only one pound difference since the 6 week lay off), but I don't care. I'm running. Not on a treadmill, not in a cheesy gym, not in a contraption. I have some bad thoughts about my time, about how I'd like to pick it up, about how I'd love to add on. But, LB keeps me clean,for Pieter and for me. No, he says, we have to turn around.

I start to ponder the long road to Boston...2 miles...many more to go. We do planks and sit ups and plan. I go home and read some blogs about Boston. I read some good advice. Stop listening to everyone else and plan your own race.

Tomorrow, Troy will get a look at the foot...I would guess that Troy would have rather I waited another week or two....

A Loyal Friend

2009-05-05T21:44:00.002-05:00

Well, It's not easy to say good-bye, no matter who it is. Lately, there seems to be lots of people calling to report a death of a loved one...one right on top of the other. three, in fact, in less than two weeks. And, whether expected or not, it's always so hard to hear it, take it in and honor that life that was.

Now, while I do not mean any disrespect to the wonderful people that I have known that have passed recently, just last week, we lost our dog.

It may seem silly to some. I knew he was going to die soon and I thought I was ready for that time. But, truth be told, when the moment came, I really wasn't ready for him to not be a part of our lives anymore.

Morrissey was just the runt of the litter, really. They called him Slinky and he couldn't even get up on all fours when I first met him. Nobody wanted him, except his brother, Gordy, who was the dog Rolph and I had selected from the litter of Belle -- a wonderful border collie who had mated with a black lab. When it came time to get Gordy, Morrissey was the only one left behind, and, clearly, no one was coming for him. So, Rolph and I packed him up with Gordy and took them home.

They were, by far, the best of friends ever. They were a two-headed dog. They sat next to each other and looked like one big body with two heads. They curled up together to sleep. They would never be parted from each other. We took them everywhere with us. You really had to see it to believe it.

One funny story we always share...Gordy was notorious for hanging out of the car window way too far. One day, on Barton Springs Road, by the Old Palmer Auditorium, he just fell right out the window. Well, Morrissey just leaped out the window after his brother and there they sat on the sidewalk, unharmed, more concerned for each other than for their hysterical owner.

So, when Gordy passed away, it's safe to say that Morrissey was devasted. He was never the same after that and, if you know the muscian, you know, the name suited him. He was miserable. He would not get up or eat or even appear the least bit excited to see you. I thought I would lose him then and we found him a friend at the Town Lake Animal Shelter.

Tootsie (more on her later) kept our friend alive for a few years for us.

And, while we joked that he'd become grumpy and incontinent, we kept hoping we'd spare him the needle. I used to sit with him and just say to his face, Please, go quietly into the night my friend.

Last Wednesday night, he seemed chipper, as chipper as Morrissey could be. So, I took him, Tootsie and my daughter for a little walk. He was too old to go too far, even though he would really try. At one point, he kind of barked at me, which was really unusual and I stopped and asked him why he was so grumpy with me since I was taking him to the golf course. He headed on, ignoring me the way he always did. We had a great walk, all of us, and Morrissey seemed really, well, happy, as best he could show it.

The next morning, I couldn't get up to go to the gym. I have been working out as much as I can since I'm not running. I just decided to stay and hit the alarm. Once my son was ready for school, I decided to feed the dogs, a chore normally reserved for my daughter.

Tootsie was her perky, alert and hungry self. But there was no sign of Morrissey. I called him and called him. I realized he must not be able to hear me as he'd gone selectively deaf recently. So, I looked over to where he normally curled up to sleep, between the two air conditioners and saw his legs. To me, he looked like he was breathing, so I hit the AC unit a bit to wake him. Nothing. I went back in the garage and grab my husband's sandals and headed back out. Once I stepped off the stoop, I saw that he wasn't breathing at all. He wasn't curled up, but just stretched out and stiff.

It was a terribly sad day. I thought I was ready, but I wasn't. I cried all day long. He was with us for nearly 16 years....so many memories. We joked about his disposition, but he was a very loyal dog. And, he did what I asked of him...he went quietly into the night.

Potato, P-AH-TAH-TOE

2009-04-29T17:23:00.002-05:00

Could I really be near the end of my sentence? Might I be granted time off for good behavior (or behaviour)? I can hardly contain my excitement.

I've missed a few entries on my appointments with Pieter, Troy and, new character, Bill. I write these things in my head sometimes and I just haven't gotten them down on the computer.

A few highlights:

On one visit I realize how incredibly week my right foot is. I mean, really. Pieter throws a towel on the floor and asks me to drag it with my toes. Oh, yes, there's a weight at the end. I simply cannot do it. So, we go for the "Girlie" weight (ok calm down feministas, I'm one of you, so I can say it). And, it's not alone ridiculously light, but also Pepto Pink! So, please. I can barely do that, and so, now I have a new exercise of getting my toes to actually do something aside from sport poorly applied nail polish (not in pink.)

It's not a good idea to bring your incredibly cheeky four-year-old child with you to PT. First you can't concentrate. Second, she tries to do what you are doing on the treadmill and she might get hurt. Third, she's not exactly a wallflower. And, most importantly, she will manipulate the bones on the fingers of the skeleton into a familiar NJ greeting (unbeknownst to her the true meaning, but --- ah, a chip off the old block nonetheless).

Lastly, no matter how long you give the Jersey girl mean stare to Pieter, he will win the stare down and you will not be running until he says so.

So, now we're down to week 6 for me, but apparently it's only week 4 for Pieter (thus, the title). So, we split hairs until we agree that it's week 5. Somewhere between people from NJ being big complainers along with people from the Netherlands, we get down to work. I'd rather have a beer and keep complaining, but, I've grown lazy in my new non-running life.

Pieter pokes and prodes my foot and, finally, pops it. Oh, relief! Amazing! I get to do a few exercises and then, big prize, I get to run on the treadmill. This is really torture, mostly becuase of the device they string me up in to run. Let's just say, it's not glamorous. I get to do 15 minutes this week. My new friend, Bill, keeps me company and we chat about, what else, running. I'm glad he's there as the time goes faster. And, I finish.

Troy comes out of hiding to see what's up. One more week, Pieter declares. Then, maybe I will let you run again. I sigh with relief and I want to hit the wall at the same time. I need to hit the trail, but I know that if I don't wait, the treadmill torture device beckons again.

PT - The New Confessional

2009-04-02T12:02:00.005-05:00

After much coordination with my real world and mother/driver schedule, I land on an appointment with Troy at SPI. I'm so relieved. I almost cancel due to a conference call, but, frankly, I can't take it anymore, my foot is a little ham at the end of my Q-tip leg.

Troy pokes his head around the door. Hey, come on back. I load up (like a camel -- laptop, bags, water) and start heading toward him. He looks at me, dubiously.

You're limping, he says. Yeah, Troy, it's killing me.

Silence. Have you been running? he asks me, half serious and half joking.

Are you kidding, I ask him. He bores his eyes into me. Seriously, Troy, I have not been running. I'm back to junky status. Cut to the A&E episode ...Intervention. Cue the music. Troy, really, with my hip, I could still run. I mean, yes, it hurt, but I could do it. Dude, I cannot rotate this foot.

Troy still looks skeptical.

Pieter is there too. Yes, Pieter is the way his name is really spelled. Sorry, I have been spelling it the American way. Anyway, he says, what did you do? Oh God, here we go. I swear, I have not been running. Really.

So, I say, hey, you all told me I could go to spinning. I went to spinning on Sat. By the way, it is SOOO boring, but I did it! Anyway, the next day, I was really busy running around and by the end of the day it was a little ham again.

You told me I could to spinning. Yes, they both acknowledge their previous suggestion that spinning was fine. Troy starts to move my foot, cracking things, commanding me to walk, sit, crack more. He's quiet, that Troy. I start babbling away about the trainer at Lifetime and how he's going to help fix my stride issues. He ran track, blah, blah...Crack, walk. So unglamorous, definitely not a cat walk.

So, Troy asks inquisitively, Spinning?

Yes, really! I declare, proud of my restraint.

Did you sit on the seat the whole time, or did you get up and do all the jumps and stuff.

Bam! Zing!

There it is. Pieter and Troy both stare, waiting for the reply. But, you said I could do spinning -- I went to a class. I mean, I wasn't going to just sit there and ride. I had to get a work out in. Pieter starts to laugh. Troy shakes his head. You need to just sit in the saddle, no jumps or standing.

I slouch. I probably look like a sullen three-year old. Ok, I murmur. No standing. Just sitting and riding. Crack, rotate. Sit here. Ok, walk again.

You guys have to be more specific, I tell them.

Hey Troy, I thought you'd release me to run a few miles this week. You know, like 2 or so on the trail. No, forget it, he says. Pieter laughs again.

On the way out, I run into my friend Patrick Evoy. Hey Man, what's up? Oh, forget it, Achilles. Yeah, I have fifth Metatarsal -- Yeah, I know, I read your blog. We high five and go opposite ways...he goes in and I head to my car. I think, again, we sound like we've fallen off the wagon...we need a group.

Unforgettable, that's what you are

2009-03-28T22:14:00.003-05:00

I've noticed that I forget a lot nowadays since I'm not running. And, did I mention that I can't sleep either. And, my digestive system doesn't function as well. Anyway, lots of things are off and I find I have no idea what word or phrase I mean to say next since I'm so ungrounded. Now, I'm just complaining!

I met with a trainer who ran track in college. His 400 meters was a crazy :47. He really focused on issues that seem to be on my right side. But, he's not cheap. But, I've watched him and I know he knows how to get runners running again. Plus, he really figured out my issues pretty quick. The funniest thing was when he was trying to help me stretch. It was crazy. I'm so super tight that stretching was painful.

Today was the first day that my right foot actually connected with the floor. That was a very cool feeling. I went to a spinning class and about 1/2 hour into it was completely bored. But, I started to watch the video on the screen and got into the Giro Italia and tried to forget that I was inside, in a studio, on a bike that didn't go anywhere. Suddenly, I got the rush and I remembered when I used to do triathlons (before kids) and how much fun they were. Admittedly, I was kind of taking it easy on the resistance. I was freaked out by how close spectators get in these cycling races (while watching that is.)

When leaving, this guy came up behind me and said, hey, just a warm up before the long run? And I thought, what? at 11:30, I would have been done hours ago. And, I thought, I wish. But, I said, nah, just cross training and I've got an injury, no long runs for me.

Everyone at my daughter's soccer game asked me, hey you didn't run today? No, I didn't, my freakin' foot doesn't move.

Anyway, spinning...ugh...1 hour. We'll see...hopefully, I will be running sooner rather than later.

Unremarkable

2009-03-24T20:52:00.003-05:00

Well, I have never been described as so unremarkable so many times in one report. Ok, maybe I have, but I didn't know it.

I just got the MRI report from Dr. Spears at Sports Performance International...I've been holding my breath. The good news is that I am unremarkable...that is, that section of my foot is. I do not have a stress fracture. Yes! Excellent, but....Oh yes, there it is, the but -- as in the conjunction, not the gluteus maximus.

I have severe edema at the base of the fifth metatarsal. Somehow this is bad. Apparently, it's a pre-stress fracture. And, somehow the punishment is the same. No running. So, I get no sympathy boot cast or something to keep my foot from messing up more, but I can't run either. Aqua-jogging, cycling, elliptical. Did I mention that it's the right foot and it hurts to drive?

I look down at the floor while Dr. Spears is talking to me. First, he's calling me Alice. Alice doesn't live here anymore. I don't want to correct him. His assistant is calling me A-Lish-A, which is not me either. Anyway, I see Peter heading our way with a very determined stride and I figure I'm in the clear -- they will get my name right now and Peter will translate what the Dr. is saying to me.

They both start explaining that it looks like I have trauma to the bone -- multiple trauma. Wait, I don't remember a trauma or a multiple of the trauma. All I said to Lorenzo Blanco was let's do 10 instead of 7. I mean, this was an easy day. I feel like they are talking to someone else.

So, I say, Do the two weeks that I have already put in toward my 6 count? Now I feel like some petty criminal who's negotiating a lighter sentence. Notice how I said 6 at the long side and they said 8. Peter shakes his head and laughs.

Dr. Spears starts talking about how this is normal for runners who are used to a certain exercise level. They need something to replace their threshold of exercise. Ok, now I feel like a junky. For someone unremarkable, I feel like I've already played a lot of roles in this movie. Now I'm in an episode of Intervention on A&E.

Troy comes over now with the very nice assistant. Sorry, I forget her name. She's lovely. Everyone is flocking to the scan. Troy looks at me like I'm 2 and I just squeezed my puppy too hard.

Peter comes back in and kind of gives me the speech. Running hard, not a life long runner, over 40, etc, etc. I look down again, the tears are coming and I'm trying so hard not to cry. I cry at this office a lot. I think they need an on site therapist. Then I could really get a lot work done on all these personalities I have and my basic unremarkableness.

I slink out of the office and dutifully make my appointments. This isn't like the hip. I could run through that pain. But, this foot just won't work right now. It's as stubborn as I am.

I want to call someone from the car, but I don't bother. I don't think anyone will understand how I feel. Running grounds me. I work things out in my head when I run. I release my anger, my stress. I push myself. I'm alone, but I'm with people all at the same time. I had some ideas about this Spring. I just need a minute to accept it. After 2 weeks, my foot really doesn't feel any better at all.

When I get home, I pull out the report and read it. This is where I learn how normal and unremarkable I am. For a second, I start to think they are all wrong and I can lace up and head out tomorrow. Then I stand up and try to walk to the stairs, that I have to climb up and my foot is like a little pink ham in a shoe. I hate my foot!

Running Drought

2009-03-15T21:48:00.003-05:00

Well, the post have been few since the runs have been few. I managed to get hurt, again. Yes, again. On a very easy 10 mile run, suddenly my foot locked up after the Longhorn Dam and never really rotated again. I tried and tried to shake it off, but ended up just toughing it out.

Alas, I have worn my lightweight shoes on too many runs. And, since I only run on the right hand side anyway, my right foot decided to, well, just start to cave in.

I headed for Sports Performance and have seen Troy twice already. He cleared me a silly 3 mile run and I couldn't even do that. The adjustment he made to my foot came completely undone on a business trip, so, I was back to square one.

I can't believe how much running really means to me. Except that everytime I can't do it, I just about go crazy. I can't sleep and my entire system is off kilter.

I'm heading out tomorrow to give it a go...I have to try and see if I can hold my own.

There are so many races coming up and I was just starting the speed work outs...it's so frustrating!

Austin Marathon: Spectator and Crew

2009-02-17T22:02:00.004-06:00

If you asked me why I finally decided to do a marathon, I couldn't tell you. I didn't have that burning desire to do one; nor have I wanted to repeat the process. As you may have read in earlier posts, I felt like, well, really S&(*&Y at the end. It was a terrible feeling. And I wasn't too keen ot repeat it.

So, the Austin Marathon comes around and I told my friend I would help her along. Finally, we agreed that I would meet her at mile 17. I've done this many times over the years -- meeting folks in different places and running a bit.

Now that I've run one myself, I came prepared. I was so prepared, that I woke up like it was a marathon day for me. Seriously, 4 AM, I could not get back to sleep. I headed to the course super early and went to the spot -- way to early. I back tracked to mile 11 to see Gilbert who, by the way, decided 8 weeks ago to run it. Ok, I guess you have to be elite to do that.

I sat a mile 11 forever, shivering. I wish I'd been running instead. The elite truck comes up and here come the guys...Gilbert is 5th at this point, smiling away looking like he's having the time of his life. I've never really watched him in a race, so, for a moment, I'm stunned. It looks so easy and elegant when he runs. I forget to tell him what I have, so I hop in my car and head to mile 15 and wait. I start to run toward him and yell...I have Gu, I have sodium, water, tissues. No Red, I don't need anything, I'm fine. Off he goes again. I stare. The guy who is pacing him asks me for a Gu and I hesitate, but toss it.

I head to mile 17 and wait for all the folks I know. I cheer, I jump up and down, I give out water with carbo pro to BH. I scream and scream for people I know and don't know. I start to lose my voice. Then, I start to worry, so I head in the opposite direction of the race and find my friend. And, off we go.

It's getting hot and we're trying to move along. I try to be encouraging, but not a pain. My friend is hurting, I can hear her. I give her water, soak a washcloth for her and we keep pushing.

We see Gazelles everywhere, which is nice. I encourage her on the hills -- there are so many, and she digs in so hard. I tell her not to quit, not to walk, keep moving. There are so many hills at the end, it's merciless. Push, I tell, it's not that bad, we're almost done. Focus...I don't know if I'm helping or hurting.

Here comes the shoot, just 1ooo meters and I have to head out. Ok, you are on your own, you have this, give it some juice. You can do it. I run along side the fences, screaming all the way, just 800, just 400, just 50 meters, push, push, you can do it. She crosses the finish and I'm screaming...you are awesome, you did it! It was tough, no PR, no BQ. But somewhere along the way, I got pumped for her in a way that I never got pumped for myself. My heart was pounding when she hit the shoot. I was so happy and proud that she hung in for so long when it was so hard.

I felt better that day than I did when I crossed the finish line in San Antonio myself. We walked to RunTex and talked about doing Ragnar again. We talked about a flater course. We talked about Boston. We talked about pizza. We saw Gilbert walking to RunTex with his family, the little one on his shoulders, just hanging out.

On to the next challenge.

Running the wrong way

2009-02-07T22:42:00.002-06:00

To say that the last few weeks have been challenging is an understatement. And, the fact that I've had to squeeze in workouts and figure out how to run makes it worse. I sound whiny, but I guess I was spoiled for so long. I had a routine, a sitter and it worked. Now, I'm winging it everyday and, frankly, I hate it.

I used to hate running. Honestly, I am not an athlete. I'm a dork. I'm the person no one wanted on their team. I Irish Danced before "Lord of the Dance" came around and everyone made fun of me, so I quit. I started running at 3o when I decided to do triathlons. Now, I'm 43. Where did the time go?

I have goals this year, but don't know if I'll accomplish them. I'll try. I just want to get Boston in 2010. MW posted a great "info sheet" on Boston and I was equally scared and excited. I know I have a lot of training ahead of me. And, to be honest, my whole right side still bothers me .... A LOT.

At the end of my run today, I didn't intend to do so, but ran the opposite direction of some Gazelles just starting. By that point, I was in pain and frustrated. I said hi and smiled a lot. My right leg aches from my hip, down my hamstring to my calf. When I stop, finally, I am hobbled, just like my San Antonio finish and I go to the annex to stretch.

I want to fix it and fast. I need a good run and soon.

Shoe Fly Don't Bother Me: Tales from 3M

2009-01-26T19:15:00.002-06:00

Last year, I trained long and hard for the 3M. I ran the course 4 times and practiced picking up the pace. This year, I was not prepared. The time between the San Antonio Marathon and 3M was short relative to my ability to get some speed work in.

So, the week before, my daughter got the stomach bug and I got cedar fever. I get sick every year the week before 3M, so it's really part of the deal. But, I was really wiped out from, well, cleaning everything in my house and not sleeping that much.

I showed up on race day with no plan. I rode with Lorenzo and friends and he reported that he was not racing. DD wanted to do a good training run as she's training for another marathon. I hit the Afrin for the nasal passages and hoped for the best.

I saw Lucy at the start (see Jingle Bell entry) and squeezed in by some Gazelles. They were all going to run fast. I saw DV as he made his way to the front. I hugged DD and off we go. I started out fairly well and tried to pull the pace down. At about mile 4, I wanted to quit. But, I wouldn't give up. I heard Lorenzo talking to DD behind me. What the heck, where'd he come from? He came up on me and we ran for a bit, then he took off and I just couldn't catch him....again.

I decided that it had to be my own race and I just hunkered down for the lonely ride. I saw MWoo and he cheered and encouraged me. He told me about the head wind coming up. When I turned onto North Loop, I was ready, not too far to go Red. I was playing chicken with this other gal. I'd pass her, she'd pass me...back and forth.

Suddenly, I feel something around my left foot. I look down. My shoe is untied. No, really, it is. I couldn't believe it. I lace them 3 or 4 times. How did that happen? I had to stop and tie it. My hands were cold, it was hard to bend. I kept trying and trying to tie it and nothing would happen. The clock is ticking, people running by...one after the other. I shout some curses and get it done.

Off I go. I'm pissed now. I have so much to make up. I concentrate and hit the secret weapon. I come up to and pass some folks that were near me before. Ok, I'm good (this was from 7:21 to a 7:00 during that time). Then I see some Gazelles who I know are fast and I'm feeling a bit better. One is near, but she goes by. Darn it! On Duval, a guy next to me tells me, I don't have much to give. Yes, you do, I tell him. You are breathing too shallow. Try to take a deep breath and relax some, lean forward a little. He does this and I hear him taking big deep breaths. We pass by two Gazelle-spectators with the cow bell and they give me a huge cheer. You know them the guy says. Yes, they are my friends from the Gazelles. He breaths again and takes off.

I start to dig, not looking at my watch. I just have a little bit to go. Hold on, I tell myself. There's Gilbert -- come on Red, dig in. He shouts a time at me. Ok, I think, almost there. You didn't train really and it's almost over, just dig in. And so, I do. I try to give more and head for the finish.

Lorenzo meets me and asks me where the heck I've been. My shoe came untied, I tell him. I lost some time. Didn't you triple knot them. I did, I don't know what happened.

Anyway, I'm happy, I did it, I was alone. I had no cheering section and I tried to help someone along the way. I didn't get a personal record, but I hit the top 10 in my age group. That was my goal all along. Next year, steel laces.

Nooner

2009-01-09T19:03:00.002-06:00

Well, now that I have your attention. Today, I had a nooner. No, not the kind you are thinking of...I went to the trail and ran, at noon...exactly.

The trail is different at noon. There are lots of people, dogs, and, um, smokers, iPhoners. It's not like the morning (like 5 or 5:30) when it's mostly Gazelles, people with routines, and, let's nto forget, the stick lady.

But, I had to get my run in as my husband is on a boondoggle ... I mean ski trip in Tahoe and there will be no running on Sat. In fact, that was my first reaction, but what about my long run? (Like a child, I might add).

And, I must say, it's not fun at noon. Not running anyway. I slogged it. My legs hurt; it was hot and I was in a time crunch. 9 became 7, 7 became 5...it all went down hill. I imagined that my face was turning as red as my hair and that my stride looked completely Frankensteinish.

I longed for a Gazelle to run me down, run in front of me, behind me, anywhere. Maybe someone I knew was doing a recovery at noon or a double.

I tried to pass people, I got slower. I quit so easily. Couldn't Gilbert or Bernard just magically appear?

I am a morning runner. I am not a good lone runner.

The 3 M looms large. My expectations dwindle quickly. In fact today, they are up in smoke.

Garcon, more wine please! oh, and a cigarette!

Are we in Jersey?

2009-01-05T20:42:00.002-06:00

Double D, Lorenzo and I all ran today. It was freakin' freezin'. I mean Jersey freezin'. And, I thought to myself. For #$%# sake, I would NOT be a runner if I still lived on the East Coast. My hair would be big, I'd have gold around my neck, maybe a few more diamonds (forget 'bout it) and I WOULD BE BIG. Anyway, I am here, in Texas, my hair is not big and I headed out today in the cold, wet, rain.

Double D and I got to business for a while, but I screwed it up by talking...way too much. Ok, I don't know what the heck happened, but I was like blah...blah...blah...Poor Double D. We were ahead for a bit, but slowly but surely, I heard Lorenzo's stride behind us (he's tapering) and I knew we were running way to slow if he was catching us on taper-speed and we were supposed to be at 1/2 marathon speed. UGH.

Not to mention the fact that those firecracker runners come from no where. And this is both disarming and disillusioning at the same time. I mean, at first, it was hey, how ya doin'? Then suddenly they appear from hear and there; at points where you don't expect them on the trail. And, I have no idea where they came from. Anyway, at one point, those firecrackers were just hanging out on the trail. I don't know what was going on, but they suddenly stopped fakin' me out and they were just standing there motionless. I asked them what was wrong. They mumbled some firecracker/gazelle language (maybe it's at top speed too and only fast people can understand them) and I just carried on like I knew what was happening.

I tried to catch LB then (story of my running life) and every time I got close, he sped up. Oye. Anyway, we get to the end and Double D says, we're short 3 tenths. Crap. Now that my Garmin is working, I can't short it. I'm at 10.72. Here comes a splinter group of the firecrackers again and I start to trot. "I'm short 3 10th's" I shout. As if to say, I am trotting in slow motion next to you super fast Gazelle trot which to me is a run because I just need to clock the miles and I'd rather not exert myself too hard.

But, I know they don't believe me.

No Watch, no tempo - Freedom

2008-12-31T13:38:00.003-06:00

It's the last day of the year and I am ending my year just as I started it -with Lorenzo taking the stats and emailing them to me. I was supposed to do tempo today, but left the house without my fancy Garmin watch that, by the way, I still can't use to it's full potential. But, it's green and it looks good!

So, I didn't have enough time to go home and get the watch. I have become addicted to my watch, or the information it gives me -- the distance I run, the time I run in and my variation of effort during the workouts. Needless to say, I was a bit distressed.

When I arrive, I am sneezing like crazy...I feel horrible. Lorenzo soon calls it. No tempo, just get some miles in. I have to admit, I am so darn relieved. It ends up being a great run, even though I'm sneezing like crazy. It's great because there's no pressure, no watch. We talk about last year's running and our respective accomplishments and plan for 2009.

I have never run as many miles as I did this year -- approx. 1400. I had never done a marathon until this past Fall and I qualified for Boston. I did lots of races in the Spring and had a ton of fun. My kids ran a race too! (see Jingle Bell).

And, I've met so many incredible people who I learn from all the time. It's been a great year. I hope that in 2009 I can get my core strengthened, bust a 20 min. in a 5K and have a few great/fun races.

Alas, I need rest to get rid of this cold. I pray for peace in 2009, for more hope and joy, for civility among people all over the world.

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

2008-12-23T22:33:00.004-06:00

The great and humbling thing about running is that you never really get there. Or, at least, I don't. I have had so many conflicts lately with schedules and sitters that I'm looking at kissing my 3M goal good-bye. Ok, maybe.

Anyway, this is total junk training. And, my body is telling me that. Today I headed to a Tuesday class for the secret hill. Holy @#@$! I was dead meat. But, I decided I needed some punishing. 5 times up; 3 backwards; 3 strides. I was hurting. It was great to see Ian and Caroline. It was not so fun to suck wind on the hills. B encouraged me -- come on Red, pick up your feet! G tweaking the ridiculous form I thought I had.

We talked more about shoes, which is so funny. That blog struck a cord with my friends from Burundi.

Apparently, I need to get some Pumas now. But, as I was huffing and puffing, I couldn't understand either of G or B when they told me which Puma shoe I should get.

Ah well, I'm heading for another workout tomorrow. Right after I polish off this glass of Chianti.

It's Ok; Lorenzo is on a cruise, Double D is skiing and I have no idea where Vomit Boy is!

Jersey Jingle!

2008-12-15T07:15:00.005-06:00

The first 5k of my non-marathon training "season" was the MADD Jingle Bell at the Domain. The race has now moved up to the Domain and I have to say, I do not like it. I love the races downtown. This course was ho-hum, boring. And, it was really windy. One way you battled the wind, but the other way, it did not seem to help you at all. It was fight the wind, then come to a dead stop. Anyway, I'm from Jersey, we complain a lot. Just ask my Lorenzo Blanco.

This year, I was so happy that my kids wanted to do the kids K. So, we all headed out there and I loved that they were so excited by picking up their packets and putting their numbers on. We got our picture with Santa -- thank you MADD -- no mall, no line!

We got right up to the start with Aidan on the line and Lourdes between myself and Rolph. I was worried that she'd get pushed over. Along comes "Loud Guy". I started seeing him at races last year at the Jingle Bell. He looks like he digs in the back of his drawer for an old pair of running shorts and shows up at the race..and, if he is ever behind you, he is so LOUD. Drove me crazy last year. Anyway, his kids were running too.

Aidan took off like a shot, too fast. Lourdes took off too, but made a pit stop as her Jingle bells were coming off and she was crying. We told her we'd get her some more at the end and tried to get her back to running. I mean she came to a dead stop for those bells. Up ahead, Aidan was starting to come back toward the finish line and fading. I decided to run along side him. He wanted to quit. You can't quit, I tell him. There's the finish line. Lift your knees up, use your arms, you are awesome, I tell him. Come on, let's go. He pushes as hard as he can, finishes and sits on the curb with his head between his legs -- great job, I tell him. He's mad that he didn't do better...sounds familiar. I think you may have started a bit too fast. I try to console him but he's having none of it.

I head back to the finish just in time to see Lourdes coming across with a big smile and I hug her. Where's my medal, she says! She remembers that I have gotten medals when I've finished some races! How cute!

It's my turn now and I have not warmed up at all. Too late to worry about it. I look for Lorenzo and see him sticking up his hand. I head over toward him. I recognize a woman next to us and say hi. I've seen her at Chuy's and other races and seen her on the trail too. She says she got injured right after IBM this year. Ouch! Anyway, really nice, she trains with another group in town, but nice woman.

The gun goes off and we're off. I'm out too fast on the first mile and once we head to the boring, windy part, animal print shorts paces me. I think to myself, ok, I will stay behind her and catch up at the end. I really think I can pass her but want to wait. I take water at the first stop which I have never done at a 5 K before. It's humid. There's a turn around -- I hate those. I see KS and say hi. I see a few other Gazelles and say hey. Anyway, we turn and I start to lose more ground, but I feel I'm catching up to animal print. We head toward the end and I'm not too far back thinking, maybe she's younger than me! Hee Hee. I hear my kids and Rolph over to the side and I think, I thought they were heading to Mass. Anyway, I try to dig, to lean forward, to push. Animal print beats me. I walk and bit and bend over nearly hurling. I am SO out of shape, I think. I remember that I really should keep moving to avoid throwing up so I move. I see L from the start. Her friend has my keys and she offers to run back and get them.

I head over to the posting to see that animal print is there. She's in my age group and has beat me by a few seconds. I tell her, I tried to hang on to you, but I just didn't have it to give. I heard you back there, she says, which kept me going. (I hope I'm not Loud Girl) Anyway, we introduce ourselves to each other and I congratulate her. She's super nice and congratulates me too.

Second again, but it's ok with me this year! I don't make the Gazelle posting since I didn't run below 20 mins. Close, but no cigar!

The best part of the whole day was seeing my kids have such a great time. They wore their shirts all day and told everyone they ran. My son talked strategy the whole rest of the day. And, my daughter is still looking for her medal!

Happy holidays!

What the....?

2008-12-10T18:49:00.002-06:00

Did I actually run 26.2 miles a few weeks ago? What happened to my fitness level. I actually attempted to attend a Gazelle workout today and do 1000's...Ugh. Forget 'bout it! It was horrible, I was horrible. I bailed on 3 out of 5 of them and only completed 2!

I have to say, I was mortified. I tried not to get pissed at myself....just move on. My leg hurt...that leg Pieter has worked on all summer. The one that didn't bother me a bit after the marathon. UGH. I need to do speed work, but the track and I are not friends.

Anyway, I got a workout in which these days has been tough. Let me just complain...I got up early, got the kids ready, drove to St. Austin's, dropped my son off, pit stopped at RunTex to say hi to Gilbert and then back South to drop off my daughter. I was going to run alone but said, screw it, I'm playing hookie and went downtown to join the friendly group.

I hope my former self returns in time for the Jingle Bell on Sunday....

Mizuno, I hardly knew ya

2008-12-06T15:11:00.002-06:00

Over time, I've realized that THE shoes are really critical to running. Not just ANY shoe, but THE shoe. Gilbert preaches this to us all the time. He has an innate gift of knowing how to correct ailments by changing shoes. He can run to the back of RunTex and return with THE shoe and you don't even have to try on another pair.

Bernard has the same gift. And, since Bernard is at RunTex quite a bit, I always get my shoes from the smiling Bernard man. It's the easiest shoe visit ever. I need a new pair, I say. Ok, Red. Back he goes to the store room and out he comes with my shoe in my size without asking me another word. Now, we just got straight to the counter; no trying on or trotting around the store required.

So, imagine my dismay when Mizuno decided to retire the Wave Runner 8. I bought the last pair at RunTex in my size. Then, right before the marathon, I hunted for them on the web. No one had my size.

I decided to order the Wave Mizuno 9, from, horrors, Road Runner Sports (sorry RunTex, they were cheaper). They can't be too different, I think. I get them 2.5 weeks before the marathon and tear in to the box when they arrive. They are clean, nifty and blue. Ok, I would have preferred green, but ah well.

On a recovery day, I lace them up and head out. I'm not even a mile into the run and I hate them. I mean, not just a little. They are horrible. But, I am not sure why. I turn around and change shoes...they are that bad.

I throw them in the box and head to see Bernard -- shoe guru. I confess my sin of ordering online and ask if, please oh please, he can dig through the back and, by chance, by some small miracle, there's a pair of Wave Runner 8's in my size back there.

No, there's not, I'm telling you, he says without even looking, he knows the inventory and I realize that I'm toast. It's too late for new shoes Red, Bernard so wisely tells me. Let me see the old ones. You'll make it just fine, you have plenty of road left on these, just alternate them.

I still would like new shoes...bummer.

Anyway, I ask him about the 9's. I know he says, I don't know why they changed them. I don't like them either.

What a relief...I'm not crazy...they changed something and even this super fast, race-every- weekend-and-win guy is telling me he doesn't like the changes either! Whew!

After the marathon, I give them another try. After all, I've spent the cash and don't think I can send them back. I lace them up but take my daughter to school first. By the time I am driving home, I realize that I still hate them and don't even want to walk in them, let alone run. I head home and change before my run.

I search the web frantically for another pair of WR 8's in my size and find a single pair at some ski shop in Vermont. I immediately order them (sorry RunTex). Christmas came early when they arrived....I was so darn happy to see them.

Lesson one, listen to your shoe guru; he knows.

Lesson two, don't cheat on your shoe guru; he knows.

Lesson three, get as many pair of the shoes you love to run in, because they will change them and you will hate them!

Mizuno -- go back to the old version...please....

Motivate This...

2008-12-03T20:00:00.002-06:00

Oye, I am struggling to get motivated. Somebody, help me please. How does this happen? You stay focused, you work hard, you run and run and run and then...it's over. You sleep late, you eat chocolate, you drink wine (nice) and you stop looking at your watch!

Time to sign up for something.

I heard this song tonight called "The Italian Christmas Donkey" No S@#t; it's hilarious!

Tomorrow, I'm out there to run; just one more glass of wine! Then Gilbert can tell me how I'm getting a belly...I hear it already...have you been drinking??? Just before workouts!

Sometimes you feel like a nut

2008-12-01T20:24:00.002-06:00

Today I couldn't meet my training buddies, so I attempted to do hill repeats here in the hood. Wow, ok, so, probably lots of workers here thinking...what's up with that white girl doing loops, around and around. The hill was an ok elevation, not Wilke or anything, but hard enough post marathon.

I realize CK is now 39, so I don't have many more wins in me! Hee hee. So, I get out there in my neighborhood and run, yes, alone. Both of these I hate. Running in my neighborhood and running alone.

I find a hill, near construction, obviously and around and around I go. I think I need to do 8, but I get bored and feel spooked by the glares, so I quit at three. Besides, I have a conference call and I need to go.

Getting up before the sun rises is the only way to go. Anything later and it's just not worth it. But, I feel good that I got some miles in and will head to the trail tomorrow.

Thanks to the one mom so far who absolved me of my guilt. Peter still loses the bet...I will NOT do Boston in 2009...but, 201o...I'm there...who's in?

Is Training Selfish?

2008-11-30T13:36:00.003-06:00

I throw this out there because I think it's something lots of moms struggle with -- is this sanity, insanity or just plain selfishness ?

I am reminded of this at a recent gathering of moms to celebrate the pending birth of yet another new life in this world. I try to avoid the entire subject of running, but someone else brings it up. The conversation quickly turns to discussion of various races and spouses training for things. Seems like each woman has given up her regular regime or altered her regime to suit the family. One woman mentions a person who actually recently announced a divorce of a female friend who spent all her time training. I don't contribute to the discussion anymore. I'm not sure what to say, so it's better that I say nothing.

I think I would go crazy without running. It helps me calm down, sort out my troubles, stay focused, and it gives me energy. And, when I have a goal, I have something else to focus on, to strive for, to prove to myself. But, after listening to these women, I wonder if I being selfish.

I run early in the day, often leaving the house at 4:30 to get a run in. There are two mornings a week that my husband gets my son ready for school and drives him in. I get a sitter for my daughter those two mornings. On Saturday's, I leave early and am home just in time for breakfast usually. I skip stretching on Saturday's and any post-run socializing. I just get it in and go. Now I sound like I'm defending myself.

Anyway, with so many moms who put so much of their lives on hold for their kids, their husbands and their family lives, isn't it ok to carve out a little time for yourself?

I'll postpone Boston until 2010 to give my body and my family a break from my training.

For God's Sake, Finish Already: part 3

2008-11-24T11:47:00.005-06:00

I really need to just finish -- I guess that's part of what I said. But, seriously, I'm taking too long to get down to the actual race. Please come back to see my entry on Tiger Balm; I forgot to add that in and my running buddies reminded me -- with much hilarity -- that it was a big part of the experience.

Let's just get to race day. Since I wasn't sleeping, I got up and went to the lobby to get coffee and try to calm the jitters (and, use the lobby bathroom). The coffee didn't taste so great, but I had to get in early. Everything was ready to go, so I just needed to put my clothes on and head with the team to the busses.

We left about 5:45 am. There were tons of people in the lobby and we started walking toward the bus stop. I felt like crying already. I told Lorenzo that I was on the verge of tears. He started reiterating my instructions. That's the gig. He tells me what I have to do and generally I can do it. That calmed me down some, the deflect away from emotion, as that's what we always do before races. I freak out; he stays calm. It's kind of a Moonstruck moment...snap out of it on doggie downers.

We load the busses and head comfortably to the start line. I sit with a woman who'd just done Chicago (I thought you were supposed to rest for months after) and was planning on going to do White Rock in Dallas. Geez...I just want to get through this one. I start to panic again.
I feel nausea and hunger in alternating bouts at my stomach. I can still do the 1/2 I think.

Off the busses and over the the drop section -- nightmare, so poorly organized. We drop our bags and head to the port-o-pot. Someone tells us that there's less of a line at a different location so we haul ass over there. I nearly plow a woman down trying to get there. By now, there's not much time left and I'm anxious to get in line. I have no option for my power gel, so I stick two in my bra, one in my shorts pocket and hold the others in my hand.

When we hit our corral, we see some Gazelles -- Wes and Paul King. I can pretend that I'm in Austin, so that's good. Again, I have to hit the Loo and AT tells me to go for it, I have time. The ladies in line see that I'm in the second corral and they let me go ahead. I thank them profusely and head back in line. I don't know what's going on with the start, but it's messed up and kind of uneventful. Not at all like Austin races, but whatever. First the guy tells us to go and then stops us..it was odd. But, off we go.

I am surprisingly calm. I usually am so wound up that I can't breathe. But, I'm so relieved to start the race and I start to tell myself to stay calm. Lorenzo starts to give me instructions -- this is a good pace to start with; not any faster. Paul King comes up beside us and runs with us for a while which is really comforting. It feels like a long run and not much else now.

The beginning of the course twists and turns and so I have to really stay focused. Plus, I need to do water stops, which I'm not very good at since I don't normally do them. I don't like to get caught up and I'm afraid of falling. But, I know I have to eat power gels and I have to drink water frequently.

We see the Governor and his security detail and we run alongside him to say hello. We see him a lot in Austin running. I want to make a crack about the press conference and how he cut off Sarah Palin, but I decide against it. Sarcasm at this point will bite me later...it's all about karma.

So far so good, but I feel the pain in my leg and try to alter my stride to not pound on the right so much. Turn again and again. Lorenzo starts to tell me about a movie that now I cannot for the life of me remember the title. I'm sure he said the title several times, but it's gone. I know that John Wayne was in the movie and it was not a Western. I think that perhaps Lorenzo is trying to distract me from the pain or that the pace is off and he's trying to get me to speed up. We head through downtown and then I see the Pygmie short cut. That's a Pygmie shortcut I say. Wouldn't you love to take it. No, it's not, Lorenzo shuts me down. We'll see, I say and sure enough we do a big loop and come back around. See, I say, like a 3 year-old, I need to point out that I was right.

Anyway, I'm still feeling ok, good actually, but I try really hard NOT to get excited by that. I know the worst is coming. Suddenly, there he is ...Gilbert -- going crazy. Red, looking good, you see, you are doing it! I'll see you on the back side. I know what that means...when I'm hurting and look like crap. But now, I'm ok, and keep going. That was cool, I say to Lorenzo. Yeah, did you gu? Back to task.

Still feeling good, but looking for the family. Mile after mile and I don't see them, so I start to give up that I'll see them before the wheels come off. Suddenly, I hear Mommy, mommy, go mommy and I see them. My God, they are so cute. They made me a big green sign and they are shaking it. My daughter is excited and my son looks a bit worried. I want to stop. I want to go hug them and call it a day. I start to get choked up, but try so hard to stay focused. I use some energy to head toward them and grab the water with Carbo Pro that Rolph is handing me. I drink, I'm re-charged and I'm so glad they have seen me when I'm looking strong.

I'm still feeling really good which I'm glad about. Lorenzo says he's going to hit the bush. This startles me since he told me I had to hold it for 8 miles of the 3M. Ok, I say but I'm confused by the pit stop. I keep running, keeping my sights up ahead and Lorenzo rejoins me and says, ok, just give me 78 more minutes. Stay with me and he pulls ahead. Crap, I wasn't ready for that and I wonder if I've got more in my. I have a debate within myself. If I go now at mile 18, will I be able to hang until 26.2. If I don't go now, he's gone. Another shout out here to MWoo who told me to practice running alone. I thought Lorenzo would pull ahead, but I thought it would be later and I start to wonder if I can hang all that way alone. Keep him in your sights I say.

Then there's a tight u where the race doubles on itself. I hate those and it also has a slight climb with feels horrible. Crap, how did I go from feeling great to this in about 1/4 of a mile? This sucks. Ok, hang, don't panic and keep Lorenzo in your sights. So far, so good, but I know he's digging and pushing the pace. Don't give up I say. Remember the relay -- you ran alone in the dark. Ok, push, push.

Suddenly, there's an uphill. Very slight, but I really don't need this now. Rolph is running toward me, yelling pick up your knees, pick up your knees. I'm thinking, where the hell are the kids? But, I can't talk anymore, it wastes too much energy. I make it up the hill and turn the corner, ok there are the kids. They start shouting at me. I love you, I tell them. They are both shouting we love you mommy. Don't cry, I say to myself, not now.

Off I go. I don't see Lorenzo anymore and my feet hurt. I can hear myself running and I hate that. I'm plodding. Ugh, it reminds me of "Loud Guy" at the 5K's in Austin and I smile to myself. I decide that I won't look at my watch anymore. I'm not giving up on the pace, but I don't want to get deflated. I pick some other people to target and stay near. Someone is coming at me from the right -- it's my friend Teresa with water and gu. No gu I grunt, can't do it. Ok, you look good. I know she's lying. I'm cratering. I take the water and sip. But I can't hold the bottle anymore. Mile 19, ok, just one more mile, I say to myself. Here comes 20 and then it's just a 10K from there. Gilbert should be coming up soon. I have that to look forward too.

I hear someone call my name off to the left, but I cannot turn my head. I am starting to lose my other targets. Someone is coming at me with a cup and straw and I realize it's Betty with more carbo pro. I take it, sip and say nothing. I just can't get words out and don't want to slow or stop. I never thought of a straw, what a great idea. I toss it and decide it's time for the secret weapon. It's repetitive, it's not for naught and it works. For me, anyway. And, it takes my mind off of me. Hail Mary, full of Grace, I start. They start to roll off and I start to feel instantly better. It's not that I'm not hurting, I'm focused somewhere else and that feels better. I don't know if the pace picked up since I'm not looking at my watch, but the miles are coming quicker.

We converge with the half-marathoners who are spilling on to the marathon side of the cones. I want to scream; get out of my way. But, I still can't talk. Enough people are in the way that I'm having to navigate, which I don't have the energy to do. You need to stay on the 1/2 side, I muster to one crowd. Back to the secret weapon and not putting bad karma out there. I see a guy with a military bib and I thank him for his service to our country. He looks at me and thanks me and I move on. There's that woman with the pink shirt, I pass her. I'm feeling better now, not that far; just one more mile I say at every mile.

You can't quit, you've done the hardest part. Focus I say. Suddenly, the road is clear, and I see an officer with a motorcycle and this crazy, Cirque du Soleil type person leaping into the street -- it's Gilbert! and he's going nuts -- he's singing and dancing and having a blast in the middle of the street. Red, look at you, look at you, here you come. He falls in next to me and, knowing about the secret weapon, he seems to pick up the Hail Mary exactly where I am in the prayer. I think I'm delirious now...did that just happen? Ok, you look good he says, you are doing a great job. I told you you could do it. He's so excited that I start to get excited too. Let's call Susan. What, I say in my head. Is he kidding? I'm running a marathon here. He's running along side me dialing on his iPhone. I think, ok if he hands me the phone, I'm going to get mad. Hey, he says. Red's doing it. She looks great, we're at mile 23. Wow, here talk to her. No, really. I don't put my hand out to get the phone and he holds it to my ear. Red, Red...UGH is all I muster. He hangs up and looks at his watch. Ok, do you want to know the time? No, I say in my head (no words are coming out) It's 3: something and you are on track for 3:20 plus, go, dig in you can do it. And, just like that, he's gone.

I can do this, I say with renewed vigor. People are starting to list sideways and tighten. I won't look anymore, I can see the Alamo dome. Around the corner, it's almost over. I did harder, crap a hill on the last .2 miles. What the heck? I dig harder, I just want to be finished now and it's so close. I turn and there's the finish and I hear Rolph and the kids yelling. Wow, they made it to the end, I know how hard that is and I try to pick it again. There's the finish, I cross it and immediately go from running to walking like 102 year old woman. I shuffle, I reach out for my medal and follow the herd. MOO...I start to sob from by gut. I want to collapse and cry and cry, but I keep moving ahead. There's a line for pictures and there's no easy way through it; I just have to wait and get my picture taken. There's a line for food; I'm not hungry, but I grab some stuff.

I see Rolph's UT hat and the sobbing is coming fast and furious and then I see the kids right with him and I think I cannot let them see me this way. But my son has seen me already and he looks worried. I head to the fence and Rolph hugs me tight, I start to cry. Was that the hardest thing you've ever done? No, it's the second hardest; giving birth to Aidan was the first. I can't finish the sentence, I'm too tired. But I want to say, then, someone's life depended on it -- his. Aidan asks me if I'm ok, mommy you are crying. I'm fine, I lie. I'm just sore and I stop crying immediately. Aidan and Lourdes both hug me and then take the snacks I've picked up. I thank them for being there and cheering for me. Did it make you go faster? Yes, of course it did I tell them.

It's over and I don't feel like I normally feel at races...no sense of elation, no fist pumping, no, wow, that was awesome. Just a, whew, it's done. I'm done. I head for my bag and see Lorenzo Blanco. We hug -- you did great, he says. Good job. You were awesome, I tell him. Thanks for everything. I know we'll de-brief later on a run, mile by mile and plan the next one.

Smashin' the Freakin' Wall: Cannolli's part 2

2008-11-21T16:34:00.004-06:00

I have so much to say about this experience, it's been hard to get it all out of my head.

I'll pick up where I left off. I had some great long runs and made it through the relay, which, while everyone thought I was crazy to do it, I really do think it helped my confidence in terms of getting the job done. But, a week and a half after the relay, I was hurting again, even after a session with Peter, which really got me going on the worry train.

On Tuesday before the race, I headed to Peter and I was very glum about the whole thing. I was quiet, not my usual manner with Peter as we always talk about politics and such before we even get down to work. I got up on the table and Peter started to look glum too. "Look, Red, we always knew that you had a very narrow margin of error on this leg and I have to say, I think that doing the relay was probably too much for you."

My heart sank and I could feel the tears welling up. I have to say, I was really surprised that Peter said what he said that I got even more nervous about the race. I also couldn't believe that I was almost crying. I mean, it's just a marathon -- I am not an elite athlete, an Olympic hopeful -- just a person trying to do a marathon.

I felt stupid and I hit the phone. I called everyone hoping someone else would tell me something else. Lorenzo Blanco quickly shifted to the "you can always do the 1/2" mode -- I panicked even more. Crap, if LB was telling me to shift, I was now a spiral of nerves and pre-teen dorkiness all over again.

What else could I do? Call the running super hero! Gilbert, it's me. Yeah, Red, what's up? I need to talk to you in person, can I come see you? Sure, meet me at RunTex in 10 minutes. Instant relief, no questions. I dreaded that he might say the same thing Peter did...you shouldn't have done that relay. I think he knew what was up. I head down there, and the infamous red truck pulls up, anxious runners waiting for his commands, African music blaring from the car and a slight figure with a huge smile climbing out, dancing, of course. I tried to calm down. I was in a full on panic. Let's walk, he says after his runners get their instruction and head out for their workout.

I start talking and fast...he listens and just looks at me for a minute. I mean that look that only he has drilling into you. Red, you are scared. You go to see Peter too much. You need to learn to heal yourself. (Whew, no slap on the wrist for the relay.) I think you are just nervous that's always been your problem; you don't think you can do it. But, you can Red, I know you can. You can a run a 3:15 he says (no pressure there). You just have to believe Red; you know what to do. He gives me a big hug and then we are on to the next subject. Suddenly, I feel slightly more at ease, but not enough to stop me from talking to Bernard too.

I head in to RunTex to buy socks and there's Bernard, smiling.
Hey Red, how's it going? You ready.
No, B, I'm in a lot of pain, my hip and leg are acting up. Peter scared me just now. I think I might do the 1/2. I know I can do that.
No way, Red, you have to put it all out there; you have to try. You are ready. You can't do the 1/2.
I'm inspired again by my Burundian friends -- here's a guy boosting me up when he's just come back from Chicago and had to bail on his first marathon from cramping.

The rest of the week, I scrap the training plan. I take it easy and that's hard. I head out and do a few miles here and there, but I'm still hurting.

On Saturday, we head down to San Antonio with most of our crew from the relay. That's very comforting to me to be around them and listen to them about their experience. Everyone is drinking fluid and seemingly eating constantly. I do what they do and up the fluids and food intake.

We head to the expo and I start to get excited. Lorenzo Blanco and I change corrals to be up closer to the start. I feel better already. We all walk around and then head to the hotel to check in and get our feet up for a while.

At dinner, the panic comes back. At one point, one of my friends looks over and asks me if I'm ok. I feel pale (paler than normal) and want to bolt out of the restaurant. I'm fine, I lie. Just nervous, it's part of my thing. It's true, I get nervous at every event, but this is the big one. But, I want to go home. I miss my kids and my husband and I'd rather really just forget this whole thing.

Back to the hotel to hit the hay early. I don't sleep a wink all night. I mean not a minute. The room is near the elevator and people are talking in the hallway as if they are outside. My mind is churning and I wax and wane between panic and remorse. Why did I sign up for this?

Holy Cannolli's: I Did it!

2008-11-20T22:13:00.000-06:00

It's Thursday already and it's hard to believe that I ever actually crossed the finish line of a marathon, yes, 26.2 miles, this past Sunday, November 16, 2008. It's been a long freakin' road for me since I suddenly, slowly, coercively, maybe considered that it might be a good idea to see if I could actually perform the feat of running, walking or crawling to the finish line after 26.2 miles. The Greeks used to do it in the buff, what the heck?

Anyway, it all happened (settle in now, this is the Irish story telling part, it'll be awhile) last year when I joined Gilbert's Gazelle's in Austin, Texas. I'd wanted to join for a while, but for family reasons and yes, fear, I delayed. Finally, I got out there and started kicking myself into some sort of shape. You see, I've never been an athlete at all -- kind of a loner, dork -- really. I was not really good at any thing athletic when I was young...ask my mother. Anyway, there I was, working hard, doing the hills, the speed work and, honestly, having fun.

Except that everyone kept asking me -- what marathon are you doing? Ugh, I'm not, I would say. Then why are you out here; why are you running such long runs? I want to be prepared for the 3M I'd say. Finally, Gilbert stopped asking me what marathon and started asking my why not marathon. I'm afraid, I fessed up. I just can't imagine myself running that far. 13.1 miles, sure; 5K; 10K, no problem. 26.2. Get the Hell out of here!

But, I loved to talk to the marathoners...which one have you done?; how many have you done? What's Boston like, what's NY like? What did you wear? What did you eat? Did you sleep? I followed my friends through their training. I joined people for parts of their marathons. I guess I was living vicariously. I was in awe of them all. Some had done 5; some 10; some 18. I really admired them and what they endured because I just knew I didn't have what it took mentally to cross that line into marathon land.

Last Spring, after a few local races, I was gently pushed and let myself be gently pushed by my running compadre Larry, aka, Lorenzo Blanco. Commit, sign up, he'd tell me. So, I did. Then I got hurt -- don't we all.

I thought, with some relief, this is my way out. I could just do the 1/2. I know I can do that. But, I went to Gilbert's best guy -- PK at SPI and, along with T at SPI, we set to work. Orginally, T told me, you can't run; you need to lay off for 8 to 12 weeks. I started to cry; right there, right in front of him and everyone in that big room who had surgeries and other more difficult injuries to overcome. I felt like an idiot. It's just a marathon -- it's not like I'm some pro or something. I'm just an average 42-year-old mom who finally decided to commit. But the tears were rolling and they wouldn't stop.

I had to quit workouts for a while and that was awful. I missed the group and I missed Gilbert. But, I couldn't go. LB created a conservative plan for me to stay with running while I tried to fix the problem.

Suffice it to say, I went to PT every week until the marathon -- it was a long, long road with some set backs along the way. P really let me run a little more each week until I finally clocked a serious 20 miler. Once the PA at the practice said, wow, only one 20 miler. You aren't going to make it. That really pissed me off and got me going and I dug in hard on training.

I ran more miles than I ever had in my life. I called everyone I knew and asked them what they did. One Saturday, M Woo gave me great advice...run alone, Red. If you are used to running with someone and you get separated for whatever reason, it will mess with you. So, I ran alone. I NEVER did that before, but it helped and it would come in handy.

I did one of the craziest things I have ever done....the Ragnar Relay from San Antonio to Austin, 181 miles, with a team of 6. LB said, you'll thank me for this in two weeks when you do the marathon. After 29.36 miles, no sleep or shower for 28 hours, not to mention the plumbing issues, I hardly believed him. Never again, I thought. This is nuts....More to follow