No Watch, no tempo - Freedom

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

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!

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....?

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

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...

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

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?

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

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

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!

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