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!

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!

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!

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.

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!

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.

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...