The Second Marathon

You know what never gets old?  Crossing a finish line.

Yesterday was a wonderful day to race.  I may fall asleep writing this.

Katie came down from Boston to be my support crew with Chadd--we all got up and met up with FJ and Eric at the Metro and headed down to Pentagon.

The lines for the portapotties were unreal.  I mean, un real.  I was terrified I'd miss my start, and just like last time, I didn't even get synched up with my correct corral, I think I managed to get myself into the gates somewhere around the 4:30 mark.

I had originally signed up for a Clif Bar pace group, but I knew I wouldn't join up with them.  I walk my water breaks, I didn't want the pressure of a group.  I lost FJ and Eric in the crowd, but as much as I wanted to run with them, I'm also one of those people who really just prefers to run on their own.

The gun sounded, but it took about 15-20 minutes for me to even cross the start line.  Once I got going, we went up through Rosslyn where I could see the bleachers set up for the spectators at the finish line.  Though I felt great, I also felt like that was forever away.  Something about this marathon had me in knots--later, talking to some Marines in line for the massage, we agreed that you only become a marathoner after you run your second one because then you know what you are subjecting your body to while the first one, you may be granted temporary insanity.

I was great running through Rosslyn, across the bridge to Georgetown, up into the Palisades (ugh, hills), then down M street, to K, up behind the Kennedy Center where I saw Sarah, K-Lo, Pete, and Jana with a "Go Captain Nigeria" sign, which was totally awesome.  I can't remember how much I talked about Ragnar here, but that was my team name from my team (background: I sent out an email about paypal where I said that after people paid me on paypal for the race, I'd reveal myself to be a nigerian warlord scamming people off through the Ragnar scheme--maybe you had to be there.)

I missed Katie and Chadd at the 10-11 mark we'd planned because they wound up dividing the road, but that was okay.  I really wanted to get rid of my jacket and gloves, but I waited until after I'd went around the island--is that Haines Point?  I never know...when I saw them at 16.  I had a 1:58 at the half, which was impressive considering how fast I'd had to run to make up time I lost in the beginning from being with a slower start group (probably a 10 minute mile pace, maybe 10:30).  By the time I got to that area, I was in a solid group of runners that I was more or less leap frogging with the rest of the time.

The race had a very different feel this time--Chadd noticed it too.  The tone was a lot more serious--there were still people in costumes, but even though it was halloween, not nearly as many people as I thought I'd see.  There were a lot more serious runners.  People were hyped and anxious.  Maybe it was me projecting how I felt onto other people, but it had a whole different feel this year.  I can't quite put my finger on what was different, but it just was.

I came back up and went around the mall where I saw my cheer group again (twice! love you guys!) and  saw Chadd and Katie again (they had a sign that said "FREE BEER in 16, 10, 6.5 MILES" that they crossed off as they went--people loved it).  At mile 20, Maureen joined me and thank God.  I was in so much pain at that point, everything else had gone out the window.  I was enjoying the first 20 or so miles, but by mile 23, I'd hit the wall.  My body just couldn't do it anymore.  That's the worst part is that once you beat the bridge, you might not be on the bridge...but it's still desolate highway wasteland.

Maureen was my hero and stayed with me through mile 26 where she peeled off.  .2 Miles to go.  I passed a guy walking and while I knew how badly he hurt, I grabbed his arm and said "you can't stop, it's only .2 away, come on."  Then that hill.  Oh that hill.  It's just unkind.  It would put you out of breath walking up the hill, but running after 26 miles, and you can see the end.  You can hear people screaming, you can see the arches, the photographers, the runners stopping and resting.  There are marines lining the hill, crouching down so you're at eye level with them while you're forcing your body up that hill and they're clapping and waving you onward.  Every step there was a stab of pain going through my body, my legs were on fire, and then that miraculous point where you step across the first timing mat and you are finally, finally done.

4:08:48.  It's not below 4, but honestly, I'm okay with that.  It just wasn't in the cards for yesterday, and I'm just proud of myself for doing it (again).

I got a foil blanket from a Marine, tucked myself into it, being cold already, then got a medal from another Marine after going through the gates, stopped for a picture in front of the Iwo Jima statue, then let myself get herded off to the water and food.  Powerade, water, and this year (great idea!) a bag from sodexho already full of food--somewhere to put everything!

Mom and Dad called me while I was milling around in the crowd then I found Katie and Chadd and with a sweaty hug leaned on them while we got to the finisher area, where I got a mich ultra (mmm favorite "bad" beer) and a much needed massage.

During the massage, FJ came and found me then we all headed to the metro....

Unfortunately, the lines for the metro and shuttles were so long that we decided just to walk back to Georgetown.  And let me tell you.  I was surprised I could walk so far, but we wound up getting a cab around Wisconsin and M back to the house.  We grabbed pizza at Flippin Pizza then drove Katie to BWI.

I felt great last night (for having run a marathon) but today, I feel horrible, kind of like I've been beaten with a baseball bat.  Chadd got me into bed last night, turned on the ballgame, and after I took two tylenol pm, I passed out, but around 7 am, the cat started.  Chadd got up, took care of him, then came back and helped me roll over.  This morning, I was in excruciating pain.  Hell, I still am.

I got a late start on work, but spent the day at my laptop, occasionally trying to get up...now, just to wait until the soreness wears off!

Thank you again everyone for your support!  I'm pretty sure that was my last marathon, but it was a good one to go out on.

And like Katie said--now that I've done more than one, I can say that I'm a marathoner.

Race Calendar

I have a really bad habit of signing up for major races then overbooking myself. I always enjoy the races, always feel accomplished, but sometimes when I'm tired, I look at my calendar and go....fuuuuuuuu

Today happens to be one of those days!

Current race plans:
March 10 - Four Courts Four Miler (thankfully my coach only has me running 4 easy before this race instead of the 12 I'd tried to map out so I could hit my 16)
March 17 - Rock and Roll Half Marathon

April - TBD (anyone have any good recs for fun April races? Nothing too crazy, I'm winding down marathon training this month)

May 6 - Flying Pig Marathon
May 11-12 - Ragnar Cape Cod (formerly, NE)
May 27 - Boston Memorial Half (which I will get to run with my bff Katie!)

June 8-9 - Ragnar Chicago
June 15-16 - Ragnar Wasatch Back (tentative)

July - Nothing on the books - any suggestions?

August 5 - Ironman 70.3 National Harbor
August 17-18 - Ragnar Great River

September 21-22: Ragnar DC
September 28-29: Ragnar Adirondacks (formerly, NY)

As far as major races go, that's:
Half Marathons: 2
Marathons: 1
Ragnar: 6
Half Ironman: 1

There's a duathlon on July 15th that's like...26 miles of biking and I think 6 miles of running. Could be fun.

I'm supposed to send this list to my coach and have her say yes/no...I'm betting she's going to keep me in line :)

T-Minus Three Days to Flying Pig

Hi. I'm not dead. 

I've just been a terribly non responsive member of society lately. Aside from my day job, most emails have gone unsent, volunteer work has not been done, planning or writing or anything has been on hold.

Why? 

I don't know. It's like I suddenly stopped caring. Perhaps I reached that edge where having a lot on my plate was suddenly not a motivator and instead, it was a paralyzing factor. Or maybe it's because I really enjoy training and after I train, all I want to do is sit on my butt and think about training/watch tv. Whatever the reason, if my begging off on my friend/volunteer/teammate/anything duties affected you, I'm sorry. I came home on Monday night and had a small cry about how I let everyone down and all this that and the other. Chadd got ready to go to the gym, told me to make a list, lock the cats out and just go one by one down my task list. It's embarrassing how little time it took to do everything.

So, now that I've put my big girl panties on, it's time to talk about a big event that is happening in 3 days:

My third marathon.

I chose the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati because...I have no idea why (honestly). My recollection is that part of it was timing (late Spring marathon!), part of it was that Runner's World said it would be fun (if you love hills!), and partly because I had just spent too much time at the Marine Corps Marathon Expo when picking up my 10k bib. 

This has been a really weird pre-race experience. It's all jumbled in my head, so let's try to break it down:

1) One is the Loneliest Number. This is the first time I'm doing a major race (read: marathon) without support crew. The first time, my mom, my then boyfriend, and Chadd were there. My second marathon, Katie and Chadd came out...but this time...it's me and the road.

I totally underestimated how awesome it is to have crew. During the RnR National Half, I saw Chadd at 6, accidentally saw Cyndi at 10, and my coach just after 12. And every time I got tired between those, I started to think about how I would see someone soon and that powered me on. This is not to discount the friends I'm going with (including Justin, Ayla, and Amanda - some of my Ragnar rocks). But these amazing friends will be running their own races. 

I suddenly feel naked.

I've been told that this is a VERY friendly marathon. I think it may be one of the reasons I saw in the RW article. They apparently close the course down after the allotted time, but they continue to support runners after they've moved them to the sidewalks. Now THAT is friendly.

2) Holy Hills, Batman. So, in a moment of true intelligence, I didn't look at the course elevation profile prior to registering. And now that I've looked at it, I have the pre-race nervous pees. I'm amazing with rolling hills. Probably because of my spinning, I'm totally cool with glorious rolling hills. May go towards explaining why I loved the RnR National Half course. What I do not particularly love is a 3+ mile incline. This gives me flashbacks to Ragnar PA where I had 10+ miles up Mt. Pocono. There is actually a photo of me somewhere slumped on the ground, considering death after that.

Ah. There they are.

Y'all. My COACH had a temper tantrum in 2010 when she did this race. Granted, she also placed second in her age group...but, yikes. The positive to this is that my coach knows this race and has been able to give me a lot of insight into it. We've agreed that I shouldn't go out trying to bank time in the first half. Instead, I'm going to hold a 9:30 for the first half, check my watch at the 10k, the half, the 18 and the 22. The back half of the race is my strong suit - again, cue rolling hills.

3) As in...Sub-4. This may have been the wrong race to try and have such a strong PR. But I WANT that sub 4. I mean, that's the real reason I'm running another marathon (or that's my publicly facing reason, I could keep a shrink in business forever if we went into my addiction to endurance sports). 

I keep telling myself that the last marathon I did, I did not run a smart race. I ran without regard for strategy. I got a late start in the wrong corral, I fought my way back to my group and was totally spent by 20. 

4) Bigger, Better, Faster, Stronger. It's weird to have a marathon simultaneously be a non-event and cause me anguish. I've been impressively nonchalant about it in the past months. Mostly because I spend all of my anxiety time thinking about the 70.3 in August. Maybe it's also because I've distracted myself with unemployment, two job changes, and a bunch of other stuff. It's not like worrying MORE about a marathon makes it easier. It's not like this is a part of training, but in the back of my mind I feel like I'm behind on worrying. It's almost like I haven't gotten over my worry process and now I'm not going to be prepared.

In reality, I should be confident. I haven't been worried because I have this awesome thing called a coach. Coach T has taken all the pressure off of me because all I have to do is what she says. And I've done just that. I haven't been sore after any of my runs. I have comfortably held 9:30's and below on all my training runs. I need a steady 9:07 to pull this out of the bag, which means I trained at the right pace and I should be able to pull out a sub 4. I will run a smart race because I was smart when I was training.

5) The Future. Unlike the last two times I've trained, I haven't gotten sick of training. Sure, I wasn't stoked about going out for 18 miles, but it's not been the same imposition as it's been in the past. I've actually enjoyed it. I'll credit my coach with a big part of this. I've already started thinking about marathons for the fall if I don't hit sub-4 (and let's be honest...even if I DO hit sub 4...). So, unlike the last times where I've had goals (a time goal AND a goal to never do a marathon again if I made my goal), this time I just have one goal: sub 4. And if I don't make it, I just have to try again.

So, in just 3 days time, you will see a very brief post. It will hold the results and probably another marathon goal - sub-4 or not.

Let me know if you'll be in Cincinnati! I'd love to say hi!

The Solo Run

I announced it on Twitter, and probably on Facebook the other week, but I don't think that trickled into my blog.

I pulled out of the Myrtle Beach Marathon.

This is the first race that I have ever DNS'ed (did not start).

The longer story behind my DNS is that I've been injured since the first week of January. Between foot surgery years ago and an already weakened left ankle, my left arch swelled up, my ankle was tight, every step I took was agony, likely because of over use, old shoes, or just...bad luck. As I started to heal with the help of rest, active release therapy, and a lot of foam rolling, the marathon drew closer and closer and all I had to show for it was one long run of 18 miles.

Coach T and I met, discussed that I would skip the tapering period before the marathon and, instead, ramp up. I felt like this was a doable strategy. I'd run marathons on stranger training regiments. I'm stronger, faster, more consistent...after Coach and I had dinner, I knew I could do it.

The night before I was supposed to head out for 12-13 miles, I was up the wall with stress, anxiety, and guilt over whether or not I should do the race. All I could hear in my mind was "Failure. You gave up. You are not an athlete. Liar. Fraud." I cried. I paced around the apartment. I couldn't tell if I was lying to myself about the pain and I was wimping out or if I was actually injured (spoiler alert: I was actually injured. But it was a unique experience to test physical pain versus mental denial).

In the end, I was so paralyzed by my inability to know how I would be healing that I had to make a decision. The stress of hoping to not be injured was driving me mad. My foot was still swollen, my ankle still tender, and crying over a 12 mile run was the final straw:

It was time for a mandated break.

In the end, this would have been my fourth marathon. I don't want to take the little vacation time I have, to only hopefully PR a marathon, much less finish it without injury. I didn't want to spend the energy I have left at the end of the day worrying about something that is supposed to be a joy...and, finally, I have some lofty goals for the end for the year (sub-6 half IM in Augusta). To do a marathon in February that may have lasting implications for my foot, right as training season revs up? It wasn't a sacrifice I was willing to make.

I'm still fighting to remember that injuries are things to be taken seriously, that there are other marathons, and that sometimes, NOT training is the smartest training decision that can be made.

But, my brain and determination are stubborn. So, to prove to myself that I haven't bitched out on training, I hit every workout this week AND I got up at 5:30 this morning to meet team RAGE for a 6:30 am run.

Rachel and Victoria had a much longer run on the calendars, but Coach T let me get to Saturday morning run early to go out with them as they begin to train to start a run in the early morning for race day.

The sun had not yet risen. And it was COLD. Like, 18 degrees according to my iPhone cold. I had my headlamp and LED flasher (who says I don't train for Ragnar?). I wore long spandex, shorts, a long sleeve tech shirt, thick tech bright orange jacket (thanks, Jason!), two pairs of gloves with hand warmers (thanks, Mom!), ear warmers and baseball hat. Bundled is an understatement. And I was still cold.

As we were getting ready to go, Coach jumped out of her car and rallied with us to run a quick 6 miles. What a gift. How amazing it was to spend a few miles running with Coach. When we hit 3, Coach ran ahead, Victoria and Rachel kept going on Beach while I turned around to head back to the car. Three miles, alone.

It's been a long time since I have run alone.

Aside I headed back, the sun was rising over Rock Creek, squirrels were stirring up the leaves, I saw a runner here or there, but mostly, I was alone.

I stopped my Garmin at one point to stand on a small bridge over the creek and watch the water rush past. Then I picked up the pace and held sub-9's the rest of the way home.

My confidence boosted by the lack of pain in my ankle and foot, the success of getting up early, the excitement of running with Coach...all of that seemed to churn up everything else on my mind in a cathartic manner.

I spent the better portion of my solo run back to the car pouring my heart out to the frigid air. I confessed my deepest thoughts and feelings to imaginary running companions. Perhaps, if you want to know the state of my heart, it is best to run long with me.

Running strips away a certain amount of armor that we all have. I am the most honest with myself in those moments and miles. I love myself the most; I forgive myself the most.

As I write this, my ankle and foot are tender, a little reminder that I made the right decision about the race, for which I am grateful. But the good news is that it all seems to be on the path to healing and I've overcome a huge mental obstacle for me - I am not a failure for pulling out of a race. I am learning to listen to my body. And there will be other marathons.