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.

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...

Tigger - I'm the Only One!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AA - Not the Betty Ford Variety

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PT - The New Confessional

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

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

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

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

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

Troy still looks skeptical.

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

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

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

So, Troy asks inquisitively, Spinning?

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

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

Bam! Zing!

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

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

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

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

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

Austin Marathon: Spectator and Crew

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On to the next challenge.

What the....?

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

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

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

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

Holy Cannolli's: I Did it!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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