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

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

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?

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.