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)
Friday, May 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Just the Finish the Thing, will ya?
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!
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!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
What Exit?
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....
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....
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Badda Bing, Badda Boston: Part One
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.....
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.....
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Basket of Goodies -- Forget 'bout it!
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!
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Finishing Touches
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!
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!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Bamboozled!
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!
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!
Monday, March 29, 2010
My Left Foot -- Not the Movie
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.
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.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
The Perfect Storm
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!
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!
Monday, March 15, 2010
Roller Coaster
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.
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.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Week 7: Challenges
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...
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...
Saturday, February 27, 2010
What? Just 15 miles, nice
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Beat up after 22
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.!
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.!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Too Much Gras in my Mardi
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?
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?
Monday, February 15, 2010
Nine Weeks and Counting
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.
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.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Wine Cap of the Week
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!
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!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
10 Weeks to Go
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!
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!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
W3: Weak Wilke Workout
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Delayed and Windy 3M: Race Report
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!
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!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Seaside and Sugar Cookies
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!
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!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Stupid Human Tricks: Take 44
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
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
Monday, January 11, 2010
17 Degrees and 2 Jersey Girls in Austin?
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...
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...
Friday, January 8, 2010
Trollin' for Lighter Shoes
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
2010 Journey to B-town
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.
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.
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