Another post with ZIP to do with running. But hopefully it will be an enlightening one. I've been seeing this trend on Facebook everyday during the month of November. Many of my Facebook friends have taken to making a daily public announcement of one thing they are thankful for that day. It makes me smile every time I stumble across one because let me tell you, some of these people have some pretty shitty circumstances. It also makes me smile because this has been a mission I have been on for several weeks.
It started when my cousin, Elizabeth, sent me a book called "One Thousand Gifts." If you have heard of it, isn't it incredible? If not, well worth the investment on Amazon. At any rate, I read the book and it was life-changing. At least I hope it was life-changing. I hope it doesn't become one of my well intentioned new "things" I am going to do that quickly fades when the newness wears off. I am good at that too.
The premise behind the book is this: live in a state of gratitude; a constant state of thankfulness. Now this seems nearly impossible to me as I am often praying with my kids on the way to school through clenched fists and gritted teeth. Seriously, we say the Our Father and Hail Mary every single morning. A lot of parents do night time prayers with their kids. I needed another option considering I am usually fast asleep before my kids. So we do morning prayers. After I read this book, I incorporated the rule that everyone must say one thing they are thankful for. No matter how grumpy, irritated or ungrateful they feel, they have to find gratitude SOMEWHERE. It is funny to listen to the things they list. The kids in the car include two neighbor girls and the ages in the car range from 7-12 (The 12 year old is my Emma. Yeah, try this with a moody, annoyed, eye rolling pre-teen. Now you understand the clenched fist/gritted teeth thing). These things can range from very insightful things... "my family", to things that are just plain weird... "my shoelaces". I never, EVER make fun or try to get the kids to change it. Some days are seriously just that bad and you really can only find shoe laces to be thankful for. Whatever they say, it's all good. Just be thankful, kids. I often times want to say, "Hey, how about you be thankful that I did not kill you this morning when I told you a thousand times to GET IN THE DAMN CAR?" But I reign in the urge and try to honor the mood I am trying to create.
The most powerful words in that book were stated when the author reminded the reader that even Jesus lived in a state of thankfulness and did so during his darkest moments. You will recall the words, "On the night he was betrayed, he took bread, broke it and gave thanks..." Do you get that? On the night before he was to be horrifically beaten, humiliated and murdered (all which He knew was His fate), he was thankful. Eucharist. It means thanksgiving. I re-read that over and over and tried to absorb those words. Yes, I could and would find something to be thankful every single day and so would my children. To my children, these are just words, an annoying thing mom is making us do. But hopefully the thought of giving thanks takes root and as they mature, infiltrates their hearts and minds like I am trying to make it do at the age of 41. It is not easy. I struggle often. Somedays gratitude comes easy, other days it is harder than hell to find anything to be thankful about. Particularly the days I am in a bad mood or absorbed in self pity. But I make myself do this. I MUST do this. I am immensely blessed as is every single human being in one way or another. If for no other reason than God loves us, which is huge.
Well the lingering feeling that I was leaving out Will, my fourteen year old, would not go away. Some mornings I drive Will and three other boys, ages 14/15 to school. The drives takes approximately 25 minutes and often times the boys have their heads in their phones, earbuds in and just look tired and miserable. This morning I finally decided I was going to do this with these boys. I couldn't possibly be offending any of these boys who attend a Catholic high school. I did not imagine it would be well received and I imagined Will would slink down in utter embarrassment that his mom was making his friends pray out loud. I didn't care though. It is my car, therefore, they will follow my rules. I did decide to run it by Will, however. I asked him if he would be ok if we did the whole "prayer thing" on the way to school. His answer SHOCKED me. He said, "It's fine. I don't care." Now he did not act super excited, but he did not act a bit embarrassed either. Will is deeply rooted in faith and doesn't mind that people know it. This isn't to say he doesn't act like a complete ass sometimes (don't we all?), but I never give him credit for that. I need to. I am so thankful for it.
All the boys load in the car and I tell them the plan. I expected laughter or snickering to erupt, but I got nothing. So I proceeded with the sign of the cross and began the Lord's Prayer with each of those boys saying it right along with me. Eucharist. These four boys could not be more different in personality. I was amazed and also ashamed at what I expected of them. They each said one thing they were thankful for, among which were, health, a warm sweatshirt, modern warfare (yep, that's Danny for ya!) and the fact that one made his first round of basketball cuts yesterday. I listened to each of them... sincere, reverent, participating. How could I have been so wrong about how they would react? They may go home and tell their parents I made them do the STUPIDEST thing today, but I don't care. They were respectful of my request and that is what mattered.
I had found my thing to be thankful for today.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Big Favor, Just Because
If you are like me and are randomly reading this blog entry because you somehow inadvertently stumbled across it, chances are that you just want to read it and go on with your day, evening or whatever. Perhaps you don't know me at all. Maybe you think I'm weird and all over the place with my thoughts and ideas about running. All wonderful reasons to keep reading :) So keep reading...
From the very beginning of this blog in 2010 until now, I have made so many references to my friend and training buddy, Sarah, that you may even feel like you could sit and have coffee with her by now. And you really could! She is very nice and very personable. She is also in need of just a wee bit of help from anyone and everyone that will kindly help her. Don't worry. It does not even involve moving from your computer, laptop, iPad, etc. In fact, it'll take you less than 2 minutes to do this. Sarah owns a local fitness studio in our town. She teaches fitness classes and cycling. She is a registered dietician and also does nutritional counseling. Sarah has a really good thing going since the opening of her studio nearly two years ago. But the one thing that keeps her from growth and the development of new programs is... money! DON'T WORRY, you don't have to send money. Unless you want to!
No, it is nothing of the sort. Sarah recently applied for a grant to receive $250,000.00 to go toward her business, Evolution Nutrition and Fitness Studio, LLC. In addition to answering five essay questions, she must receive at least 250 votes on the grant website. So here is where she needs the help and kindness of not only those who know her, but also complete and total strangers. Maybe you hate to run or even exercise at all. Maybe you despise those that do. Ok, that's cool. But could you do her a favor, just today, and click on the link, put in the zip code 45030 and vote for Evolution Nutrition and Fitness Studio, LLC? After all, today is election day. You don't have to choose sides, be affiliated with any political party or even argue with your friend on this issue. You just have to sit here, click the link and vote for her business. You may not even live in the state of Ohio or even in the US. That would make it even NICER for you to do this. Just a simple, random act of kindness. That would be awesome and greatly appreciated. As I write this, she has 172 votes. She has until Nov. 15th to get AT LEAST 250. So if you read this on November 14th, click on the link and find she has 300 votes... cool... vote anyway! The more, the better. Thank you so much!
Here is the link:
https://www.missionmainstreetgrants.com
Once on the site, type in the zip code 45030. Evolution Nutrition and Fitness Studio, LLC will appear with a small box that says "vote".
Simply click it. That is it. You are done and you are awesome!
One other thing, when I voted, I had to log on to Facebook in order to do so. I think that is how they keep track of who has voted and you only get one vote.
Ok, new puppy just threw up on my bedroom carpet since I have been ignoring him. Must go. Thanks again!
From the very beginning of this blog in 2010 until now, I have made so many references to my friend and training buddy, Sarah, that you may even feel like you could sit and have coffee with her by now. And you really could! She is very nice and very personable. She is also in need of just a wee bit of help from anyone and everyone that will kindly help her. Don't worry. It does not even involve moving from your computer, laptop, iPad, etc. In fact, it'll take you less than 2 minutes to do this. Sarah owns a local fitness studio in our town. She teaches fitness classes and cycling. She is a registered dietician and also does nutritional counseling. Sarah has a really good thing going since the opening of her studio nearly two years ago. But the one thing that keeps her from growth and the development of new programs is... money! DON'T WORRY, you don't have to send money. Unless you want to!
No, it is nothing of the sort. Sarah recently applied for a grant to receive $250,000.00 to go toward her business, Evolution Nutrition and Fitness Studio, LLC. In addition to answering five essay questions, she must receive at least 250 votes on the grant website. So here is where she needs the help and kindness of not only those who know her, but also complete and total strangers. Maybe you hate to run or even exercise at all. Maybe you despise those that do. Ok, that's cool. But could you do her a favor, just today, and click on the link, put in the zip code 45030 and vote for Evolution Nutrition and Fitness Studio, LLC? After all, today is election day. You don't have to choose sides, be affiliated with any political party or even argue with your friend on this issue. You just have to sit here, click the link and vote for her business. You may not even live in the state of Ohio or even in the US. That would make it even NICER for you to do this. Just a simple, random act of kindness. That would be awesome and greatly appreciated. As I write this, she has 172 votes. She has until Nov. 15th to get AT LEAST 250. So if you read this on November 14th, click on the link and find she has 300 votes... cool... vote anyway! The more, the better. Thank you so much!
Here is the link:
https://www.missionmainstreetgrants.com
Once on the site, type in the zip code 45030. Evolution Nutrition and Fitness Studio, LLC will appear with a small box that says "vote".
Simply click it. That is it. You are done and you are awesome!
One other thing, when I voted, I had to log on to Facebook in order to do so. I think that is how they keep track of who has voted and you only get one vote.
Ok, new puppy just threw up on my bedroom carpet since I have been ignoring him. Must go. Thanks again!
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Indy Marathon
I always like to write a race recap when my legs are still sore and my memory is fresh. The details are so much more accurate. What tends to happen to marathoners is like what tends to happen to mothers after they've given birth. The story goes from the painful reality of what really took place to the foggy idea that somehow it wasn't that bad at all perhaps we'd like to do it again.... and again, and in my case with babies AND marathons, again.
I also feel the need to console my dear friend, Sarah, who believed with all her heart that yesterday would be THE day I ran a Boston qualifier. She certainly danced around saying that all week as to not cause any unnecessary pressure or anxiety for me, but she cannot fool me. She forgets that our friendship is so intertwined with running and that each of us knows how the other one thinks when racing. She used phrases like, "It's just a long run. Just like always. We are going to go out and have fun and get medals and chat about all sorts of things." Ummm, no. Not fooled one bit. Running 8:20-8:30 pace for 26.2 miles is not just "another long run" for either of us. Our long runs average about a minute slower. If on trails, even slower. Running that pace in a marathon (at least for me) is a race. No dancing around that fact. Mind you, Sarah is a naturally faster runner than I so this pace was really more like a faster training run for her. There is the difference. All things were not equal in that sense yesterday.
Before Burning River I decided that I would forego a fall marathon. I have run at least one every year since 2009. I made that decision assuming my recovery from BR100 would be much longer and more extensive. When I was back to running two weeks later and feeling pretty ok, I began to wonder if perhaps I could pull of a fall marathon. I then began to wonder just what would happen if I incorporated speed with all the miles I had in the bank. I could start adding in one to two speed workouts a week, combine that with the amount of endurance I had and just maybe, pull of a BQ. I pitched the idea to John, who by now just nods and says "Sure, ok. Good idea." Gone are the days he evens tries to reason with me about these things. That is why I love him so :). The catch was this... NO ONE WAS TO KNOW. I was going to tell NO ONE. I reasoned that the only true way I could relax and run an anything goes marathon, was to not have anyone tracking me. I realize that knowing you are being tracked on-line while you race fuels some to drive harder. For me, it zaps the energy right from me. It fills me with anxiety and I simply cannot run relaxed. It is the silliest thing ever and if I could help it, I would. I can't help that anymore than I can change my eye color. There is a young man on Will's cross country team who is a phenomenal runner, but he ran in only two meets this season. Bless his heart, he has such intense race anxiety that he simply cannot even start. When Will told me this, I was heartbroken for him. He could run circles around his teammates in practice, but the poor thing placed so much pressure on himself to perform that he just could not even get himself to the start. Although I can't fathom what that type of race anxiety must be like, to a degree I get it. I can't run circles around the people I run with, but I can certainly hang and train with them without difficulty. I like to use the quote that I read once about runners and why they are so addicted to running; "To those who do it, no explanation is necessary. To those who don't, no explanation is possible." That is what it is like trying to discuss race anxiety with someone who experiences it vs. someone who doesn't.
Not even one week after I decided that I would run this race secretly, I'm out running with Sarah. And damn it if I can't stand keeping it to myself another minute! So I tell her I'm thinking of running the Indianapolis Marathon under the radar. I tell her it is the week before the Stone Steps 50k, which by the way, we are both going to run. I figured she would tell me that it is a ridiculous idea and I should not. I thought she would say I was flirting with disaster and injury. That it was too risky to do that the week before an ultra. But ultras don't scare me anymore (well, the 100 miler did scare me). I love to run long. I love it very much. I just don't love to run long at a racing pace. But Sarah said something I completely did not expect. "I'll do it with you." Huh? No. No way. Forget it. I am not having her give up a Saturday in the fall with all the kids activities. Why the hell did I open my big mouth? "No, that's ok, Sarah. I really just want to do this on my own. Drive up that morning, run hard and come home. I don't want you to do this." "Oh come ON! It'll be just like a long run. It'll be fun! No pressure, we will just run. Seriously! It'll be my tenth marathon and I just want a medal. Plus, I know you can run a BQ. You have soooo much endurance and if you do speed, you are there." And she got me. Hook, line and sinker. I agreed to let her run with me.
We ran roughly two speed workouts together and I changed my mind. I decided I would rather run a really good Stone Steps than risk running two mediocre or crappy races two weeks in a row. I scrapped the idea of the Indianapolis Marathon and shifted my focus back to trails and distance, as did Sarah. Many weeks later, Sarah pitched the idea of running Indy again. "Why don't we just do it. Who cares what our time is? I really think we should." Ok great, but now Indy is about five weeks away, 2-3 of which are traditionally spent tapering. So we are now going to run this race having done not a whole lot of marathon specific speed training. We did a 6 pace run that very week and I thought I would die. It was miserable! Yes, it was warm. Yes, I was really tired and really sore from so much running. Yes, we did TRX and yoga that morning. But suddenly there was the reality that this was going to be a fight. And so I made the decision to taper big. The only way I would get through Indy was to simply rest. At this point, I could not gain anymore fitness for a race that close. I was either overdone from overtraining, lacked the speed component necessary, or both.
And so began the challenge of keeping it secret when our running group emails were flying around like crazy. What are you running? How long? What time? We are all constantly training for something... marathons, triathlons, duathlons. I mean, it is insane to keep up with what everyone is doing! I knew I needed a cover to defend my dramatic drop in mileage. The Stone Steps taper was my cover... and I wasn't lying! However I still worried someone would discover the full reason for such a long taper. The only other person outside of my household that knew was Erin. I accidentally sent Erin a text I intended to send Sarah and I had to explain. There was just no getting around it. So I fessed up and made her promise to keep it quiet, which she did :) Oh yes, and apparently Sarah had her mother and of course, husband, in the loop. I also told my mom, nonchalantly, on Friday afternoon. She came over to watch Lucy, who has been sick all week, while I went up to Indy to pick up our race packets. She asked if I was doing a marathon and I said, "Oh yes. Sarah and I are running Indy tomorrow for fun." Her reply was a very sweet, but unimpressed, "Oh that's nice, dear." I loved her response because I realized she didn't know I was racing for a BQ AND it has become normal to her that I just go out and run marathons. That actually was such a complimentary response :)
On to the good stuff! Sarah and I drove to Indy in the rain. We got to the start without a hitch and waited. I was so cold! It was about 50 degrees with a constant and cold drizzly rain. I had chosen to wear shorts and my favorite coral colored Team Mitch shirt, which actually ended up being perfect, but felt very inadequate at the start. Sarah handed me the official traveling St. Sebastian prayer card, which I tucked safely into my shorts pocket. The horn blew at 8:30 sharp and we were off! I have to say, I was in a good place mentally and physically. I felt relaxed and rested. It had been a tough week at our house. Lucy has been sick all week and was in our bed every single night, keeping us up most nights trying to keep her comfortable and listening to her cough. It's a miracle I didn't come down with what she has! But her feeling rotten forced me to stay home all week. It also allowed me to take naps with her during the day. Perfect for marathon week!
The first ten miles felt easier than I expected them to. I began to think that this might just happen after all. I know Sarah did too. For the next two miles, Sarah and I both fought needing to go to the bathroom badly. We kept waiting to spot a port o let and there just weren't any. When we FINALLY got to one right at mile 12, there was no choice in the matter. We HAD to stop. Unfortunately that stop set us back quite a bit. Our slowest mile up to that point was an 8:35, which we did on a hill. Mostly we ran in the 8:20s. Mile 13 was an 11:22, dropping our average pace nearly 20 seconds. Going into the restroom we were at an 8:27 average for the race so far, coming out, an 8:44. We had some catching up to do!
We picked up and ran. I have no idea what we were running at that point. Sarah was a pretty spot on pacer. Somewhere between miles 14-15, trouble began for me. Sarah said she knew exactly when it was because I stopped talking. The best way I can describe what it feel like when I accumulate lactic acid at a rapid pace is I get this burn that starts the top of my knees and begins to move up. My legs also become increasingly heavier. And so at that point it was trying to hang on to pace until I simply could not. The last mile I hit pace was mile 16. It was a quick decline and it was relentless. Mile 17 was an 8:44. And I won't lie... I was PISSED! I guess I just didn't expect it. Even though I knew I hadn't specifically trained to race this pace, I really didn't expect it to be a fight. At least not that early. So when the beginning felt as easy as it did, I somehow felt duped. And that, my friends, is the insanity of the marathon.
So I ran seriously ticked off for a couple of miles. Sarah was trying to get me to speed up and trying to encourage me. But when I get to that place, it only makes me madder. I was extremely sensitive and felt as though she thought I was sandbagging it. That it was maybe just soreness, but nothing I couldn't push through. I wanted to stop at one point and just look at her and say, "Do you really think I'm a freaking wimp? Do you not think I can handle pain when I run? Are you f*$king kidding me?? Do you not know I ran on BLISTERS FOR MILES with no sleep this summer? QUIT TALKING TO ME LIKE I CAN RUN FASTER, DAMMIT. I CANNOT!" Unbelievably, this was the point where she suggested a rosary. I did not tell her this yesterday. I was ready to flip out because I was just mad at the fact that I raced this stupid thing. And now, just like I feared, Stone Steps would just suck. Two crappy races in a row. Damn! When she said that, I nearly cried. Good old St. Sebastian in my pocket came to the rescue and diffused my anger through her simple and awesome suggestion. "Help me run the best I am able today..." was my prayer that day. I didn't know what that would mean. I was hoping it would mean a qualifying race, but I knew there is sometimes a bigger plan that I'm unable to see. I was beginning to become unglued and so to get me back on track to finish that bitch of a run, the Holy Spirit used this gal to get me to regroup. I don't imagine she realized she was being used in that way, but I sure did. She may think the race was a waste of a Saturday or of our energy when trying to get ready for next week. Pin a number on that girl and she just goes into super competitive racer mode. But I now see it as yet another stepping stone in our faith journey. Definitely NOT a wasted race.
I really couldn't help her say it, just like I couldn't help John during BR. She did it all. One decade at a time, with breaks in between. I won't lie... I was hating life and the f word was used frequently, but I was no longer angry. I knew it would end. I was certainly not in the same frame of mind that I was in July. How could this race, 1/4 the distance of that one, be SO MUCH HARDER for me? I decided (again) I hated racing marathons. I decided (again) I would never do it again. When I crossed the finish line, I (again) began thinking of a race strategy for the next attempt.
We finished in just under 4 hours. 3:59:21 is our official time. That is actually a new PR for us racing together. We did one other marathon together with Suttan and clocked a 4:02. I'll take it. We made 3 goals on the way to the race... Best case, sub 3:45... primary goal, sub 4 hours... fall back goal if all hell breaks loose, a finish.
Thanks for running with me, Sarah. You should consider a new career in pacing. Next weekend, I got your back.
I also feel the need to console my dear friend, Sarah, who believed with all her heart that yesterday would be THE day I ran a Boston qualifier. She certainly danced around saying that all week as to not cause any unnecessary pressure or anxiety for me, but she cannot fool me. She forgets that our friendship is so intertwined with running and that each of us knows how the other one thinks when racing. She used phrases like, "It's just a long run. Just like always. We are going to go out and have fun and get medals and chat about all sorts of things." Ummm, no. Not fooled one bit. Running 8:20-8:30 pace for 26.2 miles is not just "another long run" for either of us. Our long runs average about a minute slower. If on trails, even slower. Running that pace in a marathon (at least for me) is a race. No dancing around that fact. Mind you, Sarah is a naturally faster runner than I so this pace was really more like a faster training run for her. There is the difference. All things were not equal in that sense yesterday.
Before Burning River I decided that I would forego a fall marathon. I have run at least one every year since 2009. I made that decision assuming my recovery from BR100 would be much longer and more extensive. When I was back to running two weeks later and feeling pretty ok, I began to wonder if perhaps I could pull of a fall marathon. I then began to wonder just what would happen if I incorporated speed with all the miles I had in the bank. I could start adding in one to two speed workouts a week, combine that with the amount of endurance I had and just maybe, pull of a BQ. I pitched the idea to John, who by now just nods and says "Sure, ok. Good idea." Gone are the days he evens tries to reason with me about these things. That is why I love him so :). The catch was this... NO ONE WAS TO KNOW. I was going to tell NO ONE. I reasoned that the only true way I could relax and run an anything goes marathon, was to not have anyone tracking me. I realize that knowing you are being tracked on-line while you race fuels some to drive harder. For me, it zaps the energy right from me. It fills me with anxiety and I simply cannot run relaxed. It is the silliest thing ever and if I could help it, I would. I can't help that anymore than I can change my eye color. There is a young man on Will's cross country team who is a phenomenal runner, but he ran in only two meets this season. Bless his heart, he has such intense race anxiety that he simply cannot even start. When Will told me this, I was heartbroken for him. He could run circles around his teammates in practice, but the poor thing placed so much pressure on himself to perform that he just could not even get himself to the start. Although I can't fathom what that type of race anxiety must be like, to a degree I get it. I can't run circles around the people I run with, but I can certainly hang and train with them without difficulty. I like to use the quote that I read once about runners and why they are so addicted to running; "To those who do it, no explanation is necessary. To those who don't, no explanation is possible." That is what it is like trying to discuss race anxiety with someone who experiences it vs. someone who doesn't.
Not even one week after I decided that I would run this race secretly, I'm out running with Sarah. And damn it if I can't stand keeping it to myself another minute! So I tell her I'm thinking of running the Indianapolis Marathon under the radar. I tell her it is the week before the Stone Steps 50k, which by the way, we are both going to run. I figured she would tell me that it is a ridiculous idea and I should not. I thought she would say I was flirting with disaster and injury. That it was too risky to do that the week before an ultra. But ultras don't scare me anymore (well, the 100 miler did scare me). I love to run long. I love it very much. I just don't love to run long at a racing pace. But Sarah said something I completely did not expect. "I'll do it with you." Huh? No. No way. Forget it. I am not having her give up a Saturday in the fall with all the kids activities. Why the hell did I open my big mouth? "No, that's ok, Sarah. I really just want to do this on my own. Drive up that morning, run hard and come home. I don't want you to do this." "Oh come ON! It'll be just like a long run. It'll be fun! No pressure, we will just run. Seriously! It'll be my tenth marathon and I just want a medal. Plus, I know you can run a BQ. You have soooo much endurance and if you do speed, you are there." And she got me. Hook, line and sinker. I agreed to let her run with me.
We ran roughly two speed workouts together and I changed my mind. I decided I would rather run a really good Stone Steps than risk running two mediocre or crappy races two weeks in a row. I scrapped the idea of the Indianapolis Marathon and shifted my focus back to trails and distance, as did Sarah. Many weeks later, Sarah pitched the idea of running Indy again. "Why don't we just do it. Who cares what our time is? I really think we should." Ok great, but now Indy is about five weeks away, 2-3 of which are traditionally spent tapering. So we are now going to run this race having done not a whole lot of marathon specific speed training. We did a 6 pace run that very week and I thought I would die. It was miserable! Yes, it was warm. Yes, I was really tired and really sore from so much running. Yes, we did TRX and yoga that morning. But suddenly there was the reality that this was going to be a fight. And so I made the decision to taper big. The only way I would get through Indy was to simply rest. At this point, I could not gain anymore fitness for a race that close. I was either overdone from overtraining, lacked the speed component necessary, or both.
And so began the challenge of keeping it secret when our running group emails were flying around like crazy. What are you running? How long? What time? We are all constantly training for something... marathons, triathlons, duathlons. I mean, it is insane to keep up with what everyone is doing! I knew I needed a cover to defend my dramatic drop in mileage. The Stone Steps taper was my cover... and I wasn't lying! However I still worried someone would discover the full reason for such a long taper. The only other person outside of my household that knew was Erin. I accidentally sent Erin a text I intended to send Sarah and I had to explain. There was just no getting around it. So I fessed up and made her promise to keep it quiet, which she did :) Oh yes, and apparently Sarah had her mother and of course, husband, in the loop. I also told my mom, nonchalantly, on Friday afternoon. She came over to watch Lucy, who has been sick all week, while I went up to Indy to pick up our race packets. She asked if I was doing a marathon and I said, "Oh yes. Sarah and I are running Indy tomorrow for fun." Her reply was a very sweet, but unimpressed, "Oh that's nice, dear." I loved her response because I realized she didn't know I was racing for a BQ AND it has become normal to her that I just go out and run marathons. That actually was such a complimentary response :)
On to the good stuff! Sarah and I drove to Indy in the rain. We got to the start without a hitch and waited. I was so cold! It was about 50 degrees with a constant and cold drizzly rain. I had chosen to wear shorts and my favorite coral colored Team Mitch shirt, which actually ended up being perfect, but felt very inadequate at the start. Sarah handed me the official traveling St. Sebastian prayer card, which I tucked safely into my shorts pocket. The horn blew at 8:30 sharp and we were off! I have to say, I was in a good place mentally and physically. I felt relaxed and rested. It had been a tough week at our house. Lucy has been sick all week and was in our bed every single night, keeping us up most nights trying to keep her comfortable and listening to her cough. It's a miracle I didn't come down with what she has! But her feeling rotten forced me to stay home all week. It also allowed me to take naps with her during the day. Perfect for marathon week!
The first ten miles felt easier than I expected them to. I began to think that this might just happen after all. I know Sarah did too. For the next two miles, Sarah and I both fought needing to go to the bathroom badly. We kept waiting to spot a port o let and there just weren't any. When we FINALLY got to one right at mile 12, there was no choice in the matter. We HAD to stop. Unfortunately that stop set us back quite a bit. Our slowest mile up to that point was an 8:35, which we did on a hill. Mostly we ran in the 8:20s. Mile 13 was an 11:22, dropping our average pace nearly 20 seconds. Going into the restroom we were at an 8:27 average for the race so far, coming out, an 8:44. We had some catching up to do!
We picked up and ran. I have no idea what we were running at that point. Sarah was a pretty spot on pacer. Somewhere between miles 14-15, trouble began for me. Sarah said she knew exactly when it was because I stopped talking. The best way I can describe what it feel like when I accumulate lactic acid at a rapid pace is I get this burn that starts the top of my knees and begins to move up. My legs also become increasingly heavier. And so at that point it was trying to hang on to pace until I simply could not. The last mile I hit pace was mile 16. It was a quick decline and it was relentless. Mile 17 was an 8:44. And I won't lie... I was PISSED! I guess I just didn't expect it. Even though I knew I hadn't specifically trained to race this pace, I really didn't expect it to be a fight. At least not that early. So when the beginning felt as easy as it did, I somehow felt duped. And that, my friends, is the insanity of the marathon.
So I ran seriously ticked off for a couple of miles. Sarah was trying to get me to speed up and trying to encourage me. But when I get to that place, it only makes me madder. I was extremely sensitive and felt as though she thought I was sandbagging it. That it was maybe just soreness, but nothing I couldn't push through. I wanted to stop at one point and just look at her and say, "Do you really think I'm a freaking wimp? Do you not think I can handle pain when I run? Are you f*$king kidding me?? Do you not know I ran on BLISTERS FOR MILES with no sleep this summer? QUIT TALKING TO ME LIKE I CAN RUN FASTER, DAMMIT. I CANNOT!" Unbelievably, this was the point where she suggested a rosary. I did not tell her this yesterday. I was ready to flip out because I was just mad at the fact that I raced this stupid thing. And now, just like I feared, Stone Steps would just suck. Two crappy races in a row. Damn! When she said that, I nearly cried. Good old St. Sebastian in my pocket came to the rescue and diffused my anger through her simple and awesome suggestion. "Help me run the best I am able today..." was my prayer that day. I didn't know what that would mean. I was hoping it would mean a qualifying race, but I knew there is sometimes a bigger plan that I'm unable to see. I was beginning to become unglued and so to get me back on track to finish that bitch of a run, the Holy Spirit used this gal to get me to regroup. I don't imagine she realized she was being used in that way, but I sure did. She may think the race was a waste of a Saturday or of our energy when trying to get ready for next week. Pin a number on that girl and she just goes into super competitive racer mode. But I now see it as yet another stepping stone in our faith journey. Definitely NOT a wasted race.
I really couldn't help her say it, just like I couldn't help John during BR. She did it all. One decade at a time, with breaks in between. I won't lie... I was hating life and the f word was used frequently, but I was no longer angry. I knew it would end. I was certainly not in the same frame of mind that I was in July. How could this race, 1/4 the distance of that one, be SO MUCH HARDER for me? I decided (again) I hated racing marathons. I decided (again) I would never do it again. When I crossed the finish line, I (again) began thinking of a race strategy for the next attempt.
We finished in just under 4 hours. 3:59:21 is our official time. That is actually a new PR for us racing together. We did one other marathon together with Suttan and clocked a 4:02. I'll take it. We made 3 goals on the way to the race... Best case, sub 3:45... primary goal, sub 4 hours... fall back goal if all hell breaks loose, a finish.
Thanks for running with me, Sarah. You should consider a new career in pacing. Next weekend, I got your back.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
PHEW!
On Wednesday of this, the world waited while the BAA got ready to send out emails to all those qualifiers waiting on the edge of their seats to see if they got in to the 2014 Boston Marathon. Ok, well maybe the whole WORLD didn't wait, but I know a few gals who were not only waiting, but were physically sick with anxiety, waiting to find out their fate. A few such fine ladies were Jen, Cheryl and Sondra, three dynamic runners (and people) who I am privileged to run with. Cheryl has just begun running again after a massive IT band injury she suffered after her qualifying race. Weeks of doctors appointments, physical therapy and ultimately, one scary and experimental surgery later, Cheryl is indeed, slowly but surely, back to running and doing AWESOME! I blogged about the incredible day I spent running Jen, Cheryl and Erin in at the Columbus Marathon last fall. Jen and Erin finished a mere 10 seconds ahead of Cheryl, whose first signs of IT trouble began around mile 17-18. Since that day, Erin ran a second qualifying race at the Flying Pig in May and was immediately accepted into the prestigious race for next spring. Sondra, who qualified during the 2012 Indianapolis Monumental marathon by a less than one minute, also re-qualified at the Flying Pig with a bit over 2 minutes to spare. There was rumor that the new cutoff would be in the 1:40 range, allowing entry to Jen, Erin and Sondra for sure, but leaving Cheryl sweating bullets having made her qualifying time by one minute and 38 seconds. What does "range" mean? Does it mean 1:35? 1:40? It could be either or anything in between. It was anybody's guess and I know that Cheryl felt her fate was not pretty.
Cheryl trained primarily with Jen and Erin and ran the race with way more physical discomfort than I could or would have. This was evident by the total collapse of her legs post race and the extremely trying injury she sustained from it. I cannot think of anything more devastating in the quest for Boston than having made the cutoff time running nearly all the race with the friends you trained with, only to be left behind while they got to go.
Everyone who has been part of the Boston quest (that includes family members of those who aim to run Boston too) knows that the need for the BAA to tighten its standards began in 2011. In 2010, Boston Marathon registration filled to max capacity in record time, leaving many qualifiers out of contention to run it. So they implemented a rolling registration process for times, allowing entry to the fastest qualifiers first. The plan was to manage registration this way for the 2012 race, but then to both tighten the standards (across the board decrease in qualifying times by 5 minutes... which meant no glory in turning 40 for me) and continue a rolling registration process. Jen qualified by seconds in the Air Force Marathon in 2011, but unfortunately, the cut-off time was over a minute and she did not get in.
She decided to take the winter off for both mind and body recovery after a hard year of training and racing. In early 2012, she jumped back into running. She met and began running with Cheryl and then a bit later, met Erin, who at the time, was training for her first half Ironman. The three of them decided to run the Columbus marathon in hopes of qualifying for Boston. The plan was that they would start the race together, but ultimately run their own races should one or two fall behind.
They had an amazing race and I was so privileged to witness the glorious finish. They all finished with over a minute to spare. And given that the 2013 Boston Marathon took nearly two months to fill thanks to lower qualifying times, without a doubt, these three would be going to Boston in 2014.
That horrific day last April changed the fate of many. Not only did the senseless attack take the lives of three innocent spectators, but it also left many injured, including some who lost limbs. The even bigger picture is how it also affected the dreams of many who worked so hard to run a qualifying race with the new tighter standards. The effects of evil always go far beyond the actual act. For so many, the opportunity to participate in this race is a lifelong goal. Imagine finally achieving what it is needed to get there, only to find out there is no room at the inn. Perhaps the opportunity to race like that again will never come for some of those who just squeaked by. And thus, the dream is lost.
It is not surprising that the field was overflowing this year. After the attacks, the running community felt the need to send a message to terrorists. Marathons filled with record numbers this year. Instead of being scared into no longer racing, it was as if some fierce beast was unleashed and runners plowed forward. And Boston, well that became the most sought after race in history. Anyone who is able wants to run that race in 2014, hence the inability for some qualifiers to participate. It's one of those times that just sucks, but is fair and understood. That is life.
Enter God :) God listens to everything we say and do and everything we ask for. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of real life whether our request is "important" or not. God doesn't put our requests in order of importance. He can manage the big and the small quite nicely. He just wants undeniable faith that he can do anything and that includes giving us what we are asking when we pray. He wants us to KNOW he has the power and ability to change outcomes. When we approach prayer with a "Well, let's just see if this works..." kind of attitude, well that is not being faithful, but rather looking at prayer like a good luck charm of some sort or putting God to the test. It is rolling the magic 8 ball. It is in no way approaching prayer with the knowledge and faith that God hears us and is LISTENING to us. I also know that God knows what is best for us. He knows where we should be and what we should be doing, hence the reason that sometimes the answer is no. If we are asking for something that in someway interrupts His will for us, or is not good for us, the answer will be no. But we have to have the maturity and insight and FAITH to realize that, even if we haven't quite figured out WHY we weren't meant to have or do what we have requested. I learned this throughout my training for Burning River. I prayed a lot about that race. Put in perspective, is running a race important in life? Nope. I get that. But my prayers were always this..."If this does not in some way disrupt your will for me, please make it happen." And boy did He ever. Because I asked and it was important to me. Because it was important to me, it was important to Him. It doesn't matter how "unimportant" it really was when compared to the requests of those facing terrible hardships such as unemployment, dying children, hunger, addictions, etc.. Again, God has got them too. God also knew how much the training and racing would build my faith and bring me closer to Him. It is so obvious why I was successful.
I know God was working overtime with all those praying they got into Boston. Along with my friends, who were no doubt fervently praying, I too, prayed for the outcome they wanted. I schmoozed a bit with "Ok, Lord, you were there. You know what it took to train and race together. You witnessed the joy they shared at the finish line and you saw Jen's big smile as she took out the three Boston Marathon Sweaty Bands to give her friends when they finished. She carried them the whole way and they made it! You saw Cheryl's legs collapse at the finish. You knew she gave every bit of physical strength and then some to reach her goal. If them all running Boston together does not disrupt your will for them, PLEASE let them ALL make the cutoff time. If they do not make it, I trust that it is not best for them to run it and please help them understand that." Looking back at the stories of people who chose to not run Boston or didn't qualify (aHEM!) for the 2013 race, it seems as though God knew they should not be there. When we step back, the bigger picture is always so much clearer.
So here is the outcome... For females ages 40-44, the qualifying time is 3:45:00. For entry into the 2014 Boston Marathon, this age group of women needed to run a 3:43:22 or faster. Keep in mind that Jen and Erin finished the race greater than 10 seconds ahead of Cheryl (I don't know their exact times, I just know it was around there...).
Cheryl's time?
3:43:22. In case you were wondering, Jesus is very fond of runners.
Congratulations to all those from my running group who GET to run Boston next year. What an honor! I have no doubt it will be the experience of a lifetime.
Cheryl trained primarily with Jen and Erin and ran the race with way more physical discomfort than I could or would have. This was evident by the total collapse of her legs post race and the extremely trying injury she sustained from it. I cannot think of anything more devastating in the quest for Boston than having made the cutoff time running nearly all the race with the friends you trained with, only to be left behind while they got to go.
Everyone who has been part of the Boston quest (that includes family members of those who aim to run Boston too) knows that the need for the BAA to tighten its standards began in 2011. In 2010, Boston Marathon registration filled to max capacity in record time, leaving many qualifiers out of contention to run it. So they implemented a rolling registration process for times, allowing entry to the fastest qualifiers first. The plan was to manage registration this way for the 2012 race, but then to both tighten the standards (across the board decrease in qualifying times by 5 minutes... which meant no glory in turning 40 for me) and continue a rolling registration process. Jen qualified by seconds in the Air Force Marathon in 2011, but unfortunately, the cut-off time was over a minute and she did not get in.
She decided to take the winter off for both mind and body recovery after a hard year of training and racing. In early 2012, she jumped back into running. She met and began running with Cheryl and then a bit later, met Erin, who at the time, was training for her first half Ironman. The three of them decided to run the Columbus marathon in hopes of qualifying for Boston. The plan was that they would start the race together, but ultimately run their own races should one or two fall behind.
They had an amazing race and I was so privileged to witness the glorious finish. They all finished with over a minute to spare. And given that the 2013 Boston Marathon took nearly two months to fill thanks to lower qualifying times, without a doubt, these three would be going to Boston in 2014.
That horrific day last April changed the fate of many. Not only did the senseless attack take the lives of three innocent spectators, but it also left many injured, including some who lost limbs. The even bigger picture is how it also affected the dreams of many who worked so hard to run a qualifying race with the new tighter standards. The effects of evil always go far beyond the actual act. For so many, the opportunity to participate in this race is a lifelong goal. Imagine finally achieving what it is needed to get there, only to find out there is no room at the inn. Perhaps the opportunity to race like that again will never come for some of those who just squeaked by. And thus, the dream is lost.
It is not surprising that the field was overflowing this year. After the attacks, the running community felt the need to send a message to terrorists. Marathons filled with record numbers this year. Instead of being scared into no longer racing, it was as if some fierce beast was unleashed and runners plowed forward. And Boston, well that became the most sought after race in history. Anyone who is able wants to run that race in 2014, hence the inability for some qualifiers to participate. It's one of those times that just sucks, but is fair and understood. That is life.
Enter God :) God listens to everything we say and do and everything we ask for. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of real life whether our request is "important" or not. God doesn't put our requests in order of importance. He can manage the big and the small quite nicely. He just wants undeniable faith that he can do anything and that includes giving us what we are asking when we pray. He wants us to KNOW he has the power and ability to change outcomes. When we approach prayer with a "Well, let's just see if this works..." kind of attitude, well that is not being faithful, but rather looking at prayer like a good luck charm of some sort or putting God to the test. It is rolling the magic 8 ball. It is in no way approaching prayer with the knowledge and faith that God hears us and is LISTENING to us. I also know that God knows what is best for us. He knows where we should be and what we should be doing, hence the reason that sometimes the answer is no. If we are asking for something that in someway interrupts His will for us, or is not good for us, the answer will be no. But we have to have the maturity and insight and FAITH to realize that, even if we haven't quite figured out WHY we weren't meant to have or do what we have requested. I learned this throughout my training for Burning River. I prayed a lot about that race. Put in perspective, is running a race important in life? Nope. I get that. But my prayers were always this..."If this does not in some way disrupt your will for me, please make it happen." And boy did He ever. Because I asked and it was important to me. Because it was important to me, it was important to Him. It doesn't matter how "unimportant" it really was when compared to the requests of those facing terrible hardships such as unemployment, dying children, hunger, addictions, etc.. Again, God has got them too. God also knew how much the training and racing would build my faith and bring me closer to Him. It is so obvious why I was successful.
I know God was working overtime with all those praying they got into Boston. Along with my friends, who were no doubt fervently praying, I too, prayed for the outcome they wanted. I schmoozed a bit with "Ok, Lord, you were there. You know what it took to train and race together. You witnessed the joy they shared at the finish line and you saw Jen's big smile as she took out the three Boston Marathon Sweaty Bands to give her friends when they finished. She carried them the whole way and they made it! You saw Cheryl's legs collapse at the finish. You knew she gave every bit of physical strength and then some to reach her goal. If them all running Boston together does not disrupt your will for them, PLEASE let them ALL make the cutoff time. If they do not make it, I trust that it is not best for them to run it and please help them understand that." Looking back at the stories of people who chose to not run Boston or didn't qualify (aHEM!) for the 2013 race, it seems as though God knew they should not be there. When we step back, the bigger picture is always so much clearer.
So here is the outcome... For females ages 40-44, the qualifying time is 3:45:00. For entry into the 2014 Boston Marathon, this age group of women needed to run a 3:43:22 or faster. Keep in mind that Jen and Erin finished the race greater than 10 seconds ahead of Cheryl (I don't know their exact times, I just know it was around there...).
Cheryl's time?
3:43:22. In case you were wondering, Jesus is very fond of runners.
Congratulations to all those from my running group who GET to run Boston next year. What an honor! I have no doubt it will be the experience of a lifetime.
 |
| Jen, Cheryl and Erin after finishing their qualifying race |
Saturday, August 24, 2013
X-hilerating
There isn't anything quite as cool as watching your own kid doing something great... and when the something great just happens to be running, well, even better!
I have to admit, I acted like a complete fool yesterday. Like the kind of mom I make fun of who frets, babies and pampers her son like he is 4 years old when he is 14. In my defense, I don't normally parent like that. I mean, I have yet to go through last year's back packs of the three who start school on Tuesday! That's how I roll and I'm pretty ok with it. I love my children and they know it. When they aren't blowing up my world arguing and fighting, we have a good time together. We laugh a LOT and all their NEEDS (not all their wants) are met. To me, that is what matters in the grand scheme of parenting.
Will started high school this week. The normal crazy nerves I imagine would accompany going from a school of 300 kids to a school of .... hundreds more... were squelched by the fact that he spent his summer conditioning and practicing with the cross country team. He was very comfortable heading in to his first day with nothing more than a few nerves over the academic load that awaited. The big news was that when he got out of the car with 3 of his peers on the first day, he said (and loudly, too), "Love you, mom." WHAT??? Ok, that completely made my day. What high school kid DOES that? This was a kid that was obviously comfortable in his own skin. But it hasn't always been that way. So much of his maturity and transformation I attribute to running.
Rewind to the spring of sixth grade. Sarah approaches me toward the end of track practice (Will's first and only year running track since he "hated to run"). "Will says he is having chest pain and he can't breathe." I'm pretty sure that happens to all unconditioned people when they start to run, but apparently Will saw it as a medical emergency that prevented him from continuing practice. I walked up to Will and asked him what was going on. He said that felt like his throat was closing up. I know it wasn't and that he just felt lousy from the exertion, combined with the fact that he was humiliated that he was in the back of the pack and struggling during 800s. A few of his peers seemed unaffected and were flying by him. To a kid who struggled with self confidence (as evidenced by his sometimes over confident, cocky nature), this was just too much to take and so he just stopped. This both angered and saddened me and I realized just how much work I had to do. I don't mean work to get him to be a runner. I figured once the season was over, so was Will's "career" with running. That would have been ok. I just wanted him happy and to find something he did well and enjoyed. I wanted him to do that "thing" with gratitude and humility. Honestly when my kid's happiness is on the line, I didn't care if it was knitting. I am thankful it is not, but I would have been happy he was happy :)
So how did I teach my kid to overcome the very thing that I struggled with at that time in my life (for me it was racing)?
The truth? I prayed for that boy fervently. Never doubt the power of praying for your kids, which includes admitting how little control you have and surrendering the fostering of their vocation to the Holy Spirit. That is what I did and continue to do. The sense of peace over knowing that God is in charge is awesome. Who wouldn't Him be in charge rather than themselves? After all, they are His children, not really ours. He just seemed to think we would know what we were doing when He put us in charge of them down here. Thanks, I think?
I never made Will run. I did encourage him to try cross country in the eighth grade after he successfully completed a half marathon that spring (a whole other post way back to March of 2012...) But I made it clear that he never HAD to do this.
Many events led to yesterday... Will's first high school cross country meet. I woke him early with a cup of coffee I brought to his bedside. My dad used to do that for me and I remember it was those little things that gave me the feelings of being so cared for and loved. I also made his breakfast, carefully calculating carbs, protein and fat in prep for a good race later that evening. I knew his nutrition was really critical. Racing after a full day of school and a flurry of activities would take a lot from him... from all the kids racing that night. I instructed him on what to eat for lunch and made sure I had dinner ready at the early bird, elderly time of 4:15. That meant he would eat his meal 2 1/2 hours before his meet, which is perfect. Now come on... it was his first meet and I was excited. I'm not normally this psycho.
The kids had to be there 90 minutes before meet time. It was very hot yesterday so I made Will bring Heed to sip, not chug, while he waited. I packed him a few chocolate milks for when he finished and headed out separately to his meet (John took him earlier).
Because this was his first meet, Will had to run in the "Newcomers" race. All freshman did except for the two that made the varsity team. Normally he will run 5k distance, but his first meet he had to run the 2 mile race. Will's goal? To be in the top 10. Hmmmm....
The result was awesome. Will ran a terrific race, hanging steady the entire race and finishing number 8 out of 84 with a time of 11:53. You can't imagine the feeling I had flashing back to the red faced, panting, dry heaving dramatic boy 3 years ago. Right in front of me was a strong, confident and fantastic runner who had just begun his season as a high school runner. Exactly one year ago he ran the same meet as an eighth grader in 14:36. That was not my doing or John's doing. That was God's doing. He certainly has great plans for Will. I don't know whether they include running or not. That doesn't matter to me at all (sure I'd love it if it did!). More clear was the resounding message, "Trust me and you WILL NOT fail and neither will he." Now just where have I heard that before...?
Here are some pictures:
I have to admit, I acted like a complete fool yesterday. Like the kind of mom I make fun of who frets, babies and pampers her son like he is 4 years old when he is 14. In my defense, I don't normally parent like that. I mean, I have yet to go through last year's back packs of the three who start school on Tuesday! That's how I roll and I'm pretty ok with it. I love my children and they know it. When they aren't blowing up my world arguing and fighting, we have a good time together. We laugh a LOT and all their NEEDS (not all their wants) are met. To me, that is what matters in the grand scheme of parenting.
Will started high school this week. The normal crazy nerves I imagine would accompany going from a school of 300 kids to a school of .... hundreds more... were squelched by the fact that he spent his summer conditioning and practicing with the cross country team. He was very comfortable heading in to his first day with nothing more than a few nerves over the academic load that awaited. The big news was that when he got out of the car with 3 of his peers on the first day, he said (and loudly, too), "Love you, mom." WHAT??? Ok, that completely made my day. What high school kid DOES that? This was a kid that was obviously comfortable in his own skin. But it hasn't always been that way. So much of his maturity and transformation I attribute to running.
Rewind to the spring of sixth grade. Sarah approaches me toward the end of track practice (Will's first and only year running track since he "hated to run"). "Will says he is having chest pain and he can't breathe." I'm pretty sure that happens to all unconditioned people when they start to run, but apparently Will saw it as a medical emergency that prevented him from continuing practice. I walked up to Will and asked him what was going on. He said that felt like his throat was closing up. I know it wasn't and that he just felt lousy from the exertion, combined with the fact that he was humiliated that he was in the back of the pack and struggling during 800s. A few of his peers seemed unaffected and were flying by him. To a kid who struggled with self confidence (as evidenced by his sometimes over confident, cocky nature), this was just too much to take and so he just stopped. This both angered and saddened me and I realized just how much work I had to do. I don't mean work to get him to be a runner. I figured once the season was over, so was Will's "career" with running. That would have been ok. I just wanted him happy and to find something he did well and enjoyed. I wanted him to do that "thing" with gratitude and humility. Honestly when my kid's happiness is on the line, I didn't care if it was knitting. I am thankful it is not, but I would have been happy he was happy :)
So how did I teach my kid to overcome the very thing that I struggled with at that time in my life (for me it was racing)?
The truth? I prayed for that boy fervently. Never doubt the power of praying for your kids, which includes admitting how little control you have and surrendering the fostering of their vocation to the Holy Spirit. That is what I did and continue to do. The sense of peace over knowing that God is in charge is awesome. Who wouldn't Him be in charge rather than themselves? After all, they are His children, not really ours. He just seemed to think we would know what we were doing when He put us in charge of them down here. Thanks, I think?
I never made Will run. I did encourage him to try cross country in the eighth grade after he successfully completed a half marathon that spring (a whole other post way back to March of 2012...) But I made it clear that he never HAD to do this.
Many events led to yesterday... Will's first high school cross country meet. I woke him early with a cup of coffee I brought to his bedside. My dad used to do that for me and I remember it was those little things that gave me the feelings of being so cared for and loved. I also made his breakfast, carefully calculating carbs, protein and fat in prep for a good race later that evening. I knew his nutrition was really critical. Racing after a full day of school and a flurry of activities would take a lot from him... from all the kids racing that night. I instructed him on what to eat for lunch and made sure I had dinner ready at the early bird, elderly time of 4:15. That meant he would eat his meal 2 1/2 hours before his meet, which is perfect. Now come on... it was his first meet and I was excited. I'm not normally this psycho.
The kids had to be there 90 minutes before meet time. It was very hot yesterday so I made Will bring Heed to sip, not chug, while he waited. I packed him a few chocolate milks for when he finished and headed out separately to his meet (John took him earlier).
Because this was his first meet, Will had to run in the "Newcomers" race. All freshman did except for the two that made the varsity team. Normally he will run 5k distance, but his first meet he had to run the 2 mile race. Will's goal? To be in the top 10. Hmmmm....
 |
| Finish strong |
Here are some pictures:
 |
| Shoe untied... some things will always be the same. |
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Next...
The last drop bag has finally been emptied and its contents put away in the linen closet (thank you, honey :) It contained gauze pads, bandaids and all kinds of other first aid stuff I never did use. What's left of the race is the sweet memory, a sore spot on my hip and back of knee, the rather large medal belt buckle and a lingering happy feeling that I've carried around for over a week.
The big question this week from so many is either, "So, what's next?" or "Will you do it again?" Both of which have gotten the answer, "I don't know." I do realize that this experience was unique. It will never be duplicated nor will any other race even compare. That does not mean that I won't have other awesome racing experiences, but this one was one of a kind. In fact, each marathon I've done is one of a kind and my first ultra was also one of a kind. I think it's pretty normal to want to duplicate all the feelings that come with a good race and if I could pack up the same people (and this time add Suttan) and relive that again, I would. But the odds of that are slim to super slim.
I believe most of the crew have been inspired to at least do a 50k. Whether they ever do or not doesn't matter. I know for a fact each of them possesses the ability to go at LEAST that distance. Being at Burning River allowed them to see runners at their worst come back to life and continue on. In some respect, I feel like I cheated them out of seeing me curled in a ball, sucking my thumb and crying that I was done. I warned them that may happen and they were instructed and prepared to kick me out of the aid station in spite of that. I actually think a few were looking forward to it! But that moment never came. John saw me at my worst, which comparatively speaking, wasn't that bad. Again, a journey not taken alone was the reason for that.
I'd like to say I am completely recovered, and parts of my body are. My feet are nearly back to normal, minus the dirt that just won't come out of my toenails. I have caught up on my sleep thanks to super early bed times this past week and I feel good. I ran trails with John on Sunday and discovered that the hip and back of knee pain that gave me trouble during the race are going to require a bit more down time and care as not to turn into full blown injuries. Signs that my body is definitely not totally recovered. Before the race, I was prepared to takes weeks off to recover. But now I can't stand that I am not running since I feel good and "normal". But Sunday showed me that for a 100 mile rookie like me, one week simply isn't enough. And I am going to let this one dictate. I'd love to do just one run where I am not coming home and rolling and icing a tender spot. It's been a long time since I've had one of those runs!
As much as I can't wait to run, I have nothing in the works for the fall and it is a great feeling. I have the Stone Steps 50k on the back burner as one I'd like to do, but I feel confident enough to say that if I keep running trails, I can do that with little notice. Starting tonight with 3 soccer practices (and one high school cross country schedule that owns Will), my kids' sports are dictating my schedule and are going to keep us ridiculously busy, if not downright crazy. If I can hit the trails every Friday while they are in school for a longer run and nothing is glaring on the schedule for Sunday, October 27th, then I will sign up and run it. The race is local and at a notoriously beautiful time of year... perfect for running trails with the fall leaves littering the way.
I continue to pray and seek guidance for where I am headed. Is running supposed to continue to be what helps me develop spiritually? Do I continue to pull others with me along the way? God sure knows how much I love it, so it may very well be. My awareness of what a true gift it is, of course, is at an all time high. I also want to be careful that I am not just deciding that this is my path because it is one that is so easy for me to follow. Burning River most definitely was, but that doesn't mean that my love for running and racing (and I use the word "racing" loosely) will be where I am called in the future. I sure hope it is and in some way, I imagine that God is pleased with me using whatever it is that I love to better myself and pull others with me. There is always that knowledge that He loves us so much and wants us to experience joy and happiness in our lives.
So from here I head into the unknown with a continuous quest to seek God's will. The unknowns in life are so scary, yet very exciting. Without a doubt, if I listen and follow, I will never be steered in the wrong direction, even if it is a direction I never imagined myself headed. God NEVER steers us wrong.
That makes the journey a little less scary and a WHOLE lot more exciting!
The big question this week from so many is either, "So, what's next?" or "Will you do it again?" Both of which have gotten the answer, "I don't know." I do realize that this experience was unique. It will never be duplicated nor will any other race even compare. That does not mean that I won't have other awesome racing experiences, but this one was one of a kind. In fact, each marathon I've done is one of a kind and my first ultra was also one of a kind. I think it's pretty normal to want to duplicate all the feelings that come with a good race and if I could pack up the same people (and this time add Suttan) and relive that again, I would. But the odds of that are slim to super slim.
I believe most of the crew have been inspired to at least do a 50k. Whether they ever do or not doesn't matter. I know for a fact each of them possesses the ability to go at LEAST that distance. Being at Burning River allowed them to see runners at their worst come back to life and continue on. In some respect, I feel like I cheated them out of seeing me curled in a ball, sucking my thumb and crying that I was done. I warned them that may happen and they were instructed and prepared to kick me out of the aid station in spite of that. I actually think a few were looking forward to it! But that moment never came. John saw me at my worst, which comparatively speaking, wasn't that bad. Again, a journey not taken alone was the reason for that.
I'd like to say I am completely recovered, and parts of my body are. My feet are nearly back to normal, minus the dirt that just won't come out of my toenails. I have caught up on my sleep thanks to super early bed times this past week and I feel good. I ran trails with John on Sunday and discovered that the hip and back of knee pain that gave me trouble during the race are going to require a bit more down time and care as not to turn into full blown injuries. Signs that my body is definitely not totally recovered. Before the race, I was prepared to takes weeks off to recover. But now I can't stand that I am not running since I feel good and "normal". But Sunday showed me that for a 100 mile rookie like me, one week simply isn't enough. And I am going to let this one dictate. I'd love to do just one run where I am not coming home and rolling and icing a tender spot. It's been a long time since I've had one of those runs!
As much as I can't wait to run, I have nothing in the works for the fall and it is a great feeling. I have the Stone Steps 50k on the back burner as one I'd like to do, but I feel confident enough to say that if I keep running trails, I can do that with little notice. Starting tonight with 3 soccer practices (and one high school cross country schedule that owns Will), my kids' sports are dictating my schedule and are going to keep us ridiculously busy, if not downright crazy. If I can hit the trails every Friday while they are in school for a longer run and nothing is glaring on the schedule for Sunday, October 27th, then I will sign up and run it. The race is local and at a notoriously beautiful time of year... perfect for running trails with the fall leaves littering the way.
I continue to pray and seek guidance for where I am headed. Is running supposed to continue to be what helps me develop spiritually? Do I continue to pull others with me along the way? God sure knows how much I love it, so it may very well be. My awareness of what a true gift it is, of course, is at an all time high. I also want to be careful that I am not just deciding that this is my path because it is one that is so easy for me to follow. Burning River most definitely was, but that doesn't mean that my love for running and racing (and I use the word "racing" loosely) will be where I am called in the future. I sure hope it is and in some way, I imagine that God is pleased with me using whatever it is that I love to better myself and pull others with me. There is always that knowledge that He loves us so much and wants us to experience joy and happiness in our lives.
So from here I head into the unknown with a continuous quest to seek God's will. The unknowns in life are so scary, yet very exciting. Without a doubt, if I listen and follow, I will never be steered in the wrong direction, even if it is a direction I never imagined myself headed. God NEVER steers us wrong.
That makes the journey a little less scary and a WHOLE lot more exciting!
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Burning River 100
Last fall, when I failed to qualify for the Boston marathon in my fourth attempt, I decided I was going to go for the 100 mile distance. I also decided it would be the Burning River 100 because I was familiar with the race and had been on parts of the course since my brother has run it and sister has crewed for him for the past 4 years (now, four races). As most of my friends and family know, my strong pull toward this race, was not to be about myself. It was definitely to be run because I love running distance events, but I was to use this love of running and train physically and mentally for the good of others.
I'll admit, I felt silly admitting I felt this was a God-inspired journey. At times, there was still that barrier that made me feel like people thought I was a "Jesus Freak". I suppose there will forever be those dumb insecurities that we carry around about what people think of us. I do like to meet people wherever they are in their faith belief (even if they have none) and never come across as a zealot, because dear God, I have a lonngggg way to go. Some are way farther along than I am and some have not even begun. But I have experienced first hand, the miracle of faith and trust in my own life. And if I can relay just a fraction of what these things can do for our lives, then that is a wonderful thing.
It was risky putting my goal out there, as was the belief that this was where I was being led, with the enormous chance of failure in something like this. But the whisper in my ear was constant, "With me, you CANNOT fail." If you have read my training entries up until right before the race, you will see the miraculous way that the race outcome was precisely what I knew it would be.
Friday, July 26th, 2013:
With the car packed FULL, John, Sarah, Maria and I began the drive to Cleveland with Nancy and Kristie driving behind us. With a quick stop at Chipotle for lunch (and believe me, I chose VERY carefully what I was NOT to eat given the next day's task...), we made good time. Kim was somewhere ahead, towing her large camper, aka "Crew Headquarters" and Greg, Erin and Jen were a couple of hours behind. It was a beautiful day in the high 70s and brilliant sun. I was nervous, but so distracted with the fun people surrounding me, I was not consumed by nerves. We arrived at the hotel, checked in and headed to the "expo", which if you are a marathoner, you are picturing something completely different than what was. An ultra expo consists of a couple of tables with gear for purchase and a guy handing out bib numbers. There are not booths set up and massive numbers of vendors selling stuff. It's very, very low key. Looking back, I think this is a godsend to the nervous runner... the more hype, the higher the heart rate... at least in my case.
The expo was a a restaurant/wine bar. It was a quaint and cozy little place, dimly lit, awesome food and from what I hear and saw, good beer. Once Greg, Erin and Jen arrived, the whole gang was present... the runners (Jack, Sean and myself) and the rest of the crew. Also, Sean's friend, John Kennedy (no lie), had joined us as he was pacing Sean from mile 54 to finish (he is an experienced ultra runner, hence his ability to pace for 45 miles on the fly). That was where we also met Chan Wol Park, also running the race. Her husband, Chris, was a high school classmate of Kim's. Chan Wol's pacer had backed out last minute and my friends had happily agreed to help pace her as well. Since there were plenty of pacers to go around, it worked beautifully.
After dinner, we headed back to the hotel and said our goodnights. At my door was a pretty little pink gift back with tissue sticking out. I brought it in to the room, got ready for bed, hopped under the covers and opened it. It was from Sarah and along with beautiful journal, was a card. I opened the card and out dropped the St. Sebastian prayer card I had given her before she left to run the Boston Marathon. St. Sebastian is the patron saint of athletes and was known for his endurance and resilience under extreme distress. Needless to say, he was hard at work in Boston as evidenced by Sarah's performance and the safety of both Sarah and Suttan, also running that day. She wanted me to carry the prayer card with me during my race. It was on loan... and I love the idea of a traveling prayer card. So far, so good, St. S!
I reached mile 41 in very good spirits. Sean and I had a good stretch running to 41. My legs were sore and fatigued and at times, I had to put on my music and just be quiet. Sean was cool with that as his stomach was iffy here and there. We each had our moments of feeling good and then feeling not so good. But we both knew it was part of the package and we were ultimately ok.
More sock changes, eating and drinking. More encouragement, smiles and pictures. More effort and care than you can even imagine from John, Jen, Nancy, Sarah, Erin, Kristie, Maria, Kim, Greg and Chris (Chan Wol's husband). It was here that I learned that Chan Wol's feet were giving her trouble. And with the rain we had gotten, it was no surprise. I, too, began to feel hot spots popping up that hadn't been. I tried not to let this rattle me, as blisters are a huge reason for DNF's in ultra marathoning. I drank an Ensure, ate some tortilla grilled cheese wedges and had my bottles refilled. And then headed into the next stretch, where I would not see crew for another 13 miles. Mile 54 was where I would pick up my first pacer, Erin.
It was here I learned that Jack was now only 20 minutes ahead because his stomach blew up. He was experience severe nausea and was vomiting. My heart sank for Jack as he seems to have this problem over and over. And once it starts, it is extreme.
This was technically a no crew access station, but where my first pacer could join in. The crew had come and set up, but were not allowed to do anything for me... they could not touch me or help me in any way. In fact, they had to be at least 100 feet from me in order for me not to be disqualified. Only my pacer could help me a bit. This was where I had finally caught up with Jack. He looked terrible, but as always, in good spirits.
Erin would join me for the next 10 miles. After another sock change, a bathroom stop and some food, we left took off. As we came out of the aid station, I noticed my hip was really giving me trouble. I told Erin I needed to let things loosen up before I could run again. So we walked a flat gravel section, which became road. We could see a group up ahead, which were Sarah, Jack, Kim (pacing Chan Wol). I knew that the shape Jack was in, we would likely catch up on this next stretch. Sean now had John Kennedy and they were already up ahead and on the trail. I took an S Cap (fancy name for salt tablet), some ibuprofen and a gel and a swig of water. Before long, my hip pain indeed lessened and I was able to begin running. Erin and I had a great trail stretch. We encountered some, but not too much, mud. Erin is such a delight to run with. She is an amazing athlete and as sweet as they come. We talked a lot about her experience so far with crewing and about our love for running distance. We came across John and Sean and hung with them for a bit. We said our prayers out loud with them. It was awesome. The miles went very quickly with Erin. We did catch up with Sarah and Jack and then with Kim and Chan Wol, who's feet had to be in horrible shape. But she was still doing quite amazing considering. I knew that at the next crew access aid station, Jen would take over and pace Jack and Greg would begin pacing Chan Wol. This was where I would pick up Nancy for the next 5 miles.
At mile 98 or so, we encountered some crazy steps in the woods. I got up them fine (holding on to both sides) and we came to a flat, run-able portion of grassy trail. This part would lead us to the road and take me to the finish line. As we neared the bridge where we hit road, Sarah called John and I had him come run with us. I had a mile to go. We had a slight hill to get over and then I could see it. The orange cones indicating the finish. We began to run again. I looked at my watch and figured it was safe to say out loud, "I am going to break 29 hours..." Sarah seemed oblivious and just ran along side not pushing the pace, just running. John was on the other side telling me it was right past the Sheratan Hotel, which was, right there.
I'll admit, I felt silly admitting I felt this was a God-inspired journey. At times, there was still that barrier that made me feel like people thought I was a "Jesus Freak". I suppose there will forever be those dumb insecurities that we carry around about what people think of us. I do like to meet people wherever they are in their faith belief (even if they have none) and never come across as a zealot, because dear God, I have a lonngggg way to go. Some are way farther along than I am and some have not even begun. But I have experienced first hand, the miracle of faith and trust in my own life. And if I can relay just a fraction of what these things can do for our lives, then that is a wonderful thing.
It was risky putting my goal out there, as was the belief that this was where I was being led, with the enormous chance of failure in something like this. But the whisper in my ear was constant, "With me, you CANNOT fail." If you have read my training entries up until right before the race, you will see the miraculous way that the race outcome was precisely what I knew it would be.
Friday, July 26th, 2013:
With the car packed FULL, John, Sarah, Maria and I began the drive to Cleveland with Nancy and Kristie driving behind us. With a quick stop at Chipotle for lunch (and believe me, I chose VERY carefully what I was NOT to eat given the next day's task...), we made good time. Kim was somewhere ahead, towing her large camper, aka "Crew Headquarters" and Greg, Erin and Jen were a couple of hours behind. It was a beautiful day in the high 70s and brilliant sun. I was nervous, but so distracted with the fun people surrounding me, I was not consumed by nerves. We arrived at the hotel, checked in and headed to the "expo", which if you are a marathoner, you are picturing something completely different than what was. An ultra expo consists of a couple of tables with gear for purchase and a guy handing out bib numbers. There are not booths set up and massive numbers of vendors selling stuff. It's very, very low key. Looking back, I think this is a godsend to the nervous runner... the more hype, the higher the heart rate... at least in my case.
The expo was a a restaurant/wine bar. It was a quaint and cozy little place, dimly lit, awesome food and from what I hear and saw, good beer. Once Greg, Erin and Jen arrived, the whole gang was present... the runners (Jack, Sean and myself) and the rest of the crew. Also, Sean's friend, John Kennedy (no lie), had joined us as he was pacing Sean from mile 54 to finish (he is an experienced ultra runner, hence his ability to pace for 45 miles on the fly). That was where we also met Chan Wol Park, also running the race. Her husband, Chris, was a high school classmate of Kim's. Chan Wol's pacer had backed out last minute and my friends had happily agreed to help pace her as well. Since there were plenty of pacers to go around, it worked beautifully.
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| The cast and crew (runners sitting for obvious reasons :) |
I knew it would be hard to settle down and sleep, so I turned on the TV, hoping I would fall asleep within 10 minutes, like I normally do at home. No such luck as I stumbled across a hilarious movie starring Kevin James and Adam Sandler. And so... nearly two hours later (11:30 pm), when the movie ended, I was indeed, wide awake. I tried not to think about the 3 am alarm that would be ringing in 3.5 hours. I was determined not to let panic seep in as I began to fixate on the math of exactly how much sleep I would be getting from that point to Sunday at 11:00 am when the race ended. I said a quick prayer and prayed to "just enough". I was certain that I'd be asleep within minutes, but when I glanced at the clock nearly two hours later (1:20 to be exact), I assumed Jesus was really going to show me just how much endurance I really had.
Saturday, July 27th, 2013
The blaring of John's cell phone alarm at 3 am startled me awake. Proof that I did actually sleep a little. I am guessing about an hour. My body felt like a brick getting out of bed and the sudden reality of the task at hand hit me like a mack truck. I quickly calmed myself down and walked to the bathroom. I said a very stern "DO NOT DO THIS!" to myself as I began to feel weak legged from anxiety. I also felt the calm of Jesus, "I got ya. Just get ready." I decided it was best to put all the responsibility on Him as I said "Ok, you got me here. This is all yours. Do your thing." I took a shower and scrubbed really well as I knew how gross I was going to get. It was almost like I was trying to wash off the nastiness that I didn't yet have :)
I dressed and John handed me a cup of freshly brewed hotel coffee with powdered creamer. I could stomach half. Food was the last thing I wanted, but what I really needed, so I forced down a peanut butter and coconut flake WHITE FLOUR tortilla (we forgot the jelly...). I chugged half of a gatorade and then applied my makeup and braided my hair. Damn right I put on make-up! And they all made fun of me. I said this in my blog about the JFK 50, there is no reason to not look pretty when you are kicking ass :) Race photographers have a knack for making you look like the running dead. I think they actually add cellulite to your legs and wrinkles to your face (at least I tell myself that). And I know how many pictures my husband takes when he watches a race, so go ahead and make fun. Doesn't bother me a bit because all the race volunteers said I looked wonderful! Of course I heard them say that to the muddy, limping, half dead runner too. I did text Maria for waterproof mascara, to which she replied that she had some, but she still had 3 minutes before her alarm went off. Nice.
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| Jack, me and Sean |
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| Sarah and me before the start |
John, Maria, Sarah and I arrived at Squire's Castle at about 4:15. This was where the race start was. We met up with Jack and Sean quickly, who both, as I knew they would, slept wonderfully.
We got a few pictures, and two I am missing are ones with Maria and John. They must've been taken on another camera so I can't add them here. I also had "nervous bladder", but amazingly, there was no place to go the bathroom!! That shocked me. I am used to a marathon where there are 500 portolets lined up at the start!
I kissed my husband, hugged Maria and Sarah and lined up. At 5 am sharp, the race began and we were off!
The first 6.2 miles were on a technically challenging trail portion. We had our lights to guide us, but every step had to be taken with caution. My anticipated pace was around a 12:30 min. mile for that. I could feel the nerves still lingering, although the act of running released a huge amount. The taper is always hard as you are not able to do what you are used to doing most days. There is a ridiculous amount of energy built up, dying to get out. The start of the race provides immense relief.
Sean and I had decided to start out and run together. I was hell bent on sticking to my planned strategy and refused to get caught up in who is passing or how good I felt. Truth was, for a race that still had over 90 miles to go, I didn't feel that great. I hadn't had enough caffeine, I was incredibly sleep deprived and I was running and fixating on each step, making sure I didn't fall. Normally, the realization of how I felt in that moment would have taken me down. I would have suffocated under the thought how much further I had to go when I don't even seem to be able to hit a groove in the beginning. But again, that voice of reassurance came quickly, "Remember all those training runs when you felt terrible at the beginning? Remember how after several miles your body felt better? You are a distance runner and you are fine. One step at a time. Stay in the moment, don't worry about what's down the trail. Keep going, I got ya!" Now just think about real life and our problems and how we are supposed to approach them. Amazing, isn't it? Same concept. The other huge part of all this is that I had brought my a Word Doc with a list: "100 reasons to finish". I assigned each mile to a person and dedicated that mile to them with prayer. And so, with my friend Tammy leading the list at number 1, I began the routine of the Lord's Prayer, a Hail Mary and whatever intention it was that they needed prayer for. I did this every time my Garmin beeped with a mile split, indicating the next mile. That brought much joy and comfort to the miles.
Before I knew it, we had arrived back at Squire's Castle for the 6.2 aid station. My splits were right on my planned pace. A quick grab of some Powerbar and a drink of Heed, and I was off. John was there, snapping pictures (sweet, proud husband!!). I handed him my stuff, ducked into the woods and FINALLY went to the bathroom. Folks, that is the stuff ultras are made of and often it is so not pretty!
Sean went on, walking until I caught up. I was feeling a bit more relaxed and warmed up. I had hit the first aid station and it was now daylight. The trail was very nice and runnable and life was good. With each mile, Sean joined me in prayer for designated person. At around mile 11, we met a guy who was walking and was having some stomach trouble. At mile 11 of a 100 mile race, that is a HUGE problem. I asked him his name and he said "John". "Well, John, I'm praying every mile. I'll say a prayer that this ends for you shortly." Now John could have been an atheist for all I knew. I didn't care. I just did what suddenly felt right in the moment. John replied with a humble and grateful, "Wow, thank you so much. Please do!"
The miles clicked by and we were getting some rain. My papers were getting soggy and tearing and the ink was running. I was straining to see who was next on the list... but I could still tell. At each aid station, I looked around and ate what just seemed to hit me in the moment. I didn't calculate or think too much. I just seemed to know what I needed. Or rather, "Someone" was telling me what I needed because I am a rookie, remember? Electrolyte caps, energy gel, water... ok, now sports drink, sweet potatoes, pretzels. I fueled as I ran and walked and ran some more. By mile 21, I could feel fatigue set in my legs. I thought "I need protein or I am going to be burning muscle on down the road..." I texted John ( I had decided not to text or call during this run for fear of using up all my battery. But I would text the crew if I needed something) and let him know that I needed turkey or something like that at mile 26.2.
Mile 26.2 aid station and there was the crew! What a beautiful sight to see them all. They were amazing. I sat down and they began to bring me food and drinks. They took off my wet road shoes, dried my feet, gave me body glide, put on dry socks and dry trail shoes. They fretted and pampered and smiled. They were having a blast. I did not want to leave them. But I did not want to linger at the stations as they just suck up time.
And so Sean and I were off again. The next time I would see the entire crew was mile 41. We had aid stations that were deemed "no crew access", so I would hit an aid station and rely on the race volunteers, who were awesome, to get what I needed. I know at certain points, John and Sarah caught up to get pictures and they have no idea what seeing them did to my spirits! Again, the miles clicked by and I felt so led, so cared for that I can't even explain it. At mile 33, I realized I had surpassed my training distance. I did a quick body check... feet were ok, upper body... perfect with no aches or pains or muscle soreness (THANK YOU SARAH HEFFRON AND EVOLUTION STUDIO FOR BUILDING THE CORE AND UPPER BODY STRENGTH NEEDED FOR THIS!!!) I was amazed after carrying two hydration bottles and having my arms bent in a 90 degree angle for nearly 7 hours, I wasn't sore in the least up top.
And so Sean and I were off again. The next time I would see the entire crew was mile 41. We had aid stations that were deemed "no crew access", so I would hit an aid station and rely on the race volunteers, who were awesome, to get what I needed. I know at certain points, John and Sarah caught up to get pictures and they have no idea what seeing them did to my spirits! Again, the miles clicked by and I felt so led, so cared for that I can't even explain it. At mile 33, I realized I had surpassed my training distance. I did a quick body check... feet were ok, upper body... perfect with no aches or pains or muscle soreness (THANK YOU SARAH HEFFRON AND EVOLUTION STUDIO FOR BUILDING THE CORE AND UPPER BODY STRENGTH NEEDED FOR THIS!!!) I was amazed after carrying two hydration bottles and having my arms bent in a 90 degree angle for nearly 7 hours, I wasn't sore in the least up top.
I reached mile 41 in very good spirits. Sean and I had a good stretch running to 41. My legs were sore and fatigued and at times, I had to put on my music and just be quiet. Sean was cool with that as his stomach was iffy here and there. We each had our moments of feeling good and then feeling not so good. But we both knew it was part of the package and we were ultimately ok.
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| Jack at 41 getting a massage from Sarah. Man, this crew really went above and beyond for all of us. He was an hour ahead of Sean and I at this point. |
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| Coming into mile 41 aid station. Sean and I had leap-frogged these gals in front of us for the majority of this stretch |
This stretch was the beginning of trouble for the majority of the drops. I learned after the race that 50% of the field DNF'd that day. This next part was likely why (this, however, was not the reason my brother Jack dropped).
Mud. Oh my gosh, it was unreal. Over the next many, many miles we encountered mud that brought us to a snail's pace. The mud was so thick that when you tried to lift your foot, it nearly came out of your shoe. It was here that people began to fall. Both in body and spirit. This was a frustrating and demoralizing stretch. Sean took a major spill going uphill. The mud was in our shoes and in our socks. Dry socks quickly became wet and muddy. It took seconds to undo what my crew had so carefully cleaned up and put on my feet. I actually called John and told him we were slowing and not to expect us on time at the next station. It was then he told me that runners were coming out of the woods complaining and upset and behind schedule because of the mud.
BUT... ultimately we made it out and here I am arriving at mile 47 or so where a no crew access aid station became a John and Sarah picture taking moment :)
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| Hurray! I mostly stayed vertical :) |
My next stop would be Boston Store, or rather, mile 54. Sean and I continued to battle mud and we continued to pray. My spirits stayed up and I over and over felt an overwhelming sense of being led throughout the race... "Eat, hydrate, walk, run. I've got ya." I told my friend Deb that it was if I had a little command center in my brain, controlling every move I made and telling me what to do. I honestly had no guess work. Remember, this was my first 100 mile race. When I allowed myself to think about Who was behind the scene, I began to tear up. I knew I had to stay in control of my emotions because when overwhelming, they cause me to weaken physically, so I just decided to really wait until after the race to absorb the impact and just allow God to do His thing.
Mile 47 to 54 don't stand out as being muddy or horribly hard. I know it was all trail, but I don't recall it being too muddy. My feet were becoming a problem and I began to experience discomfort with each step. It was nothing that I fixated on and nothing that broke my mojo, but I knew it needed to be tended to at mile 54. I needed another sock change. It was in these miles that my right hip began to get a little tighter. But with each mile came a prayer for someone on the list and the opportunity to "carry" so to speak, any burden they may have through my discomfort. That thought made my pain more of a responsibility and I was good with that. That was my goal to begin with. Not only that, I always had the reality check that I signed up for this. I KNEW the pain would be bad and I KNEW it would hurt. So this was no surprise to me, hence it wasn't a monumental deal.
I arrived at mile 54 and was greeted by this crazy bunch...
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| Pacers were ready!!! |
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| Jack on the ground with an ice bag on his stomach. Sarah was going to begin the task of pacing him next |
Mile 65 came quickly because I enjoyed Erin's company so very much. We had a nice road segment which we ran/walked. Darkness had now fallen.
Nancy and I disappeared into the woods. At this point, I couldn't run much. This was the beginning of a mentally difficult and very technically challenging part of the race. On top of fatigue and soreness was a relentless trail of roots and hills to make a grown man cry. Nancy could not have been better. We talked about everything and she lit the way, pointing out the roots and rocks so I would not fall. As I knew she would, she made me laugh often and I seemed to forget so much of the discomfort. Looking back, that 5 miles flew by with her too. At this point, I was certain God had hand-picked which pacer would jump in when. And I mean this for all of us... myself, Jack, Sean and Chan Wol. This race was so divinely designed.
The tables turned dramatically at mile 70. John was to pace me for the next 15 miles, where Sarah would pick up and finish with me. My feet were terribly blistered and I was given dry socks again. I had the opportunity to have "foot people" treat my blisters, but I declined. I just didn't want anyone touching them at all. I wanted to just go. Chan Wol opted to get hers treated, likely saving her race. It was here that Greg began his pacing of Chan Wol. The trouble started immediately. Because I spent some time sitting in a chair at mile 70, my hip was locked up so tightly that I was having trouble getting down the hill from the aid station.
I think John was not prepared for the fact that I could barely get down the hill. But he was patient and calm and took his time. Again, more S Caps, gel and water. It was too soon to take any ibuprofen. Once we hit a flat stretch, the hip loosened up once again and we jogged just a bit. But mostly we walked.
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| Pretending to feel good at mile 70 and Kim promised my makeup still looked good. |
I think John was not prepared for the fact that I could barely get down the hill. But he was patient and calm and took his time. Again, more S Caps, gel and water. It was too soon to take any ibuprofen. Once we hit a flat stretch, the hip loosened up once again and we jogged just a bit. But mostly we walked.
I have always believed in God. But it was this stretch of the race where I could finally say I loved Him and know what it meant to love God, or anyone. For me, at that moment, it was the willingness to offer up extreme physical suffering out of love for someone. It was something I had never been able to really do. It was the defining moment. The one God had been preparing me for over the course of training and until now. From mile 70 - 85, I battled unrelenting fatigue, extreme pain, mainly in my feet and quads as I tried to climb up and down monstrous hills covered in deep mud and mind demons. I begged my husband to recite the rosary, just so I could hear it. I could not say it with him, I just needed to hear it and think about. The man said three full rosaries... out loud. Although he is a deeply spiritual man, he is a quietly spiritual man. I don't think most would guess the depths of his faith. He is also a private man. Being his wife, I knew it. I've seen it and lived with it. It has sustained our marriage and made it unbreakable.
"THE" moment was this: I was climbing a hill and I hit a root. The pain shot through my foot like a bullet. I could not imagine anything worse, nor had I felt anything worse in my life. John was saying the sorrowful mysteries. I imagined the pain that Jesus went through being beaten, then crowned with thorns. I thought about my pain.... my back was not aching, my shoulders were good, and I could not for the life of me think to compare myself to Him. Suddenly I was fine. It hurt, but I was ok and I knew it. That had never happened to me before. Normally I get hurt and suddenly nothing matters... not God, not my kids, nothing. It's me and all about me and my pain. I am convinced that it's the worse pain ever, even if it is just a stubbed toe or something. Here I was at around mile 80 of a race. I had no sleep, was actually slurring my words and weaving. I was filthy and sore and hurting. And I was able to say "This doesn't even compare. Just keep moving forward."
That, my friends, was God. That was when I knew it was all true... the pull for the race, the prayer, the trust, the voice, the calm.
One other time we were climbing a hill. I was saying over and over, "I'm so tired. Oh my gosh." My feet were sliding backward down the mud and I had no strength. None. I looked up and wanted to cry as the hill kept going and going and going. I did not know how I would get up. The clock was ticking and I was now wondering about cut off times. Would I make it? Had this section slowed me too much? I would not stop, that I knew. My crew had given so much to get me here. They were so excited and wanted this so badly for me. They had given every ounce of what they had that day to make it possible. What if I didn't make the cut off?
As I climbed that mountain, I reached for John, who literally pulled me with all his might. He turned around at one point when I said "I can't" and simply said, "Calvary". I looked up and out of no where, I said, "and you are Simon."
Many months ago, and I've told this to many people, my sister Ruth and I were talking on the phone. A friend of hers with small children was in and out of the hospital with a dangerous illness (I forget what it was). She told me how she was helping with the children, which led to a conversation in which she said, "When we encounter people in life whose crosses our heavy, we are called to be Simon." In other words, we help them, just as Simon helped a beaten and broken Jesus carry his cross up Calvary mountain where His death awaited.
My husband was Simon at that moment. My cross was self inflicted and chosen. I realize that. So many do not choose their crosses in life. But nonetheless, at some point, we are all called to be Simon to someone. And perhaps we can recognize those that are Simon to us in our dark moments. In a moment when I had no strength and little hope, my husband physically pulled me to the top of that hill. Simon.
I was mentally prepared for this stretch though. I had read the blog of another ultra runner who said that night time is when the demons come out in your mind making you think you cannot continue and is when most people drop from a race. It is when you are at your lowest point and if you can just make it to daylight, you will finish. Knowing this was good ammunition. I would keep going no matter what. Just keep moving forward, no matter how slowly.
Unfortunately during that stretch, we did come across Sean. It was around mile 82. He was slumped over, pale looking and clammy. John, his pacer, was leaned over him. Sean was dizzy and having extreme pain. Looking at him, I knew his race was over. He looked terribly shaken and defeated. Thank God Sean had the humility to recognize it was over and did not go on to finish and end up in serious trouble. He had made a promise to his wife, Sue, that he would stop if it got iffy. His wife mattered more to him than his goal. He ultimately decided it was best to drop from the race.
John and I finally got to mile 85. It was there I learned that Jack had dropped out at mile 70 due to severe vomiting and ultimately, dehydration. He would not be able to make the aid station cut offs if he continued. I had only 45 minutes cushion before the aid station closed. Compare that to the 3 hours I had earlier in the race at some of the aid stations...This was now a race against the clock on an extremely spent body. I prayed for 29:59 or under as the race ended at 30 hours.
Now it was Sarah's turn. With a quick cup of coffee, some food and the mistake of sitting down again, Sarah and I were off. She immediately tells me "We are going to run this." I told her she was crazy as I was once again, limping with hip pain, now even more severe. I told her to let me work this out and I'd see what I could do. We reached the road and she said, "Ok, let's run. Pick up your feet and shuffle." Reluctantly I tried and surprisingly, I was able. Who knew? Sarah did. The more we ran, the better I felt. The sun was beginning to rise, as was my spirit. We had a small trail portion, but mostly we would have flat road and toe path. If we could run this with an occasional walk, I'd be in good shape with time. We ran and ran and talked as if out for a long run. We said or prayers and remembered intentions. The air was cool and I felt 100% better. Sarah said, "I can't believe how strong you've been. How good you've looked and how amazing you've done. This has been awesome." I replied, again careful not to fully absorb my words as this was no time to become weakened with emotion, "This is not me. You have to know I could not do this." She said she knew that. I think she could see and feel that. Not only that, but Sarah and I have had so many talks about this very thing. What is our purpose in life? Why are we here? What is God asking us to do? She was by my side twice in Columbus when I was after a BQ and didn't make it. She ran alongside me with a heavy heart for my disappointment. In this moment, she was sharing in the most glorious of races, running me to the finish of an unspeakably incredible journey. Tell me now that my pacers were not hand picked by God.
As I looked at my watch, I was surprised. I did quick math and thought that not only would I make it to the finish, but I would likely break 29 hours. I dared not say that out loud for fear that competitive Sarah would kick in and make me try to run faster. So I kept it to myself, but got excited. Meanwhile the crew had been waiting at mile 93 and then 96.4...
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| Feeling a bit celebrity-ish with my crew gathered round |
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| Off we go to finish this beast! |
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| Jen pacing Chan Wol before Kristie takes her to the finish |
At mile 98 or so, we encountered some crazy steps in the woods. I got up them fine (holding on to both sides) and we came to a flat, run-able portion of grassy trail. This part would lead us to the road and take me to the finish line. As we neared the bridge where we hit road, Sarah called John and I had him come run with us. I had a mile to go. We had a slight hill to get over and then I could see it. The orange cones indicating the finish. We began to run again. I looked at my watch and figured it was safe to say out loud, "I am going to break 29 hours..." Sarah seemed oblivious and just ran along side not pushing the pace, just running. John was on the other side telling me it was right past the Sheratan Hotel, which was, right there.
And then I could here the cheers from my crew. They were waiting at the finish line, screaming for me. I ran across the line and straight to the lady with the medal/belt buckle. I was done. 100.9 miles in 28 hours, 52 minutes. I won't even try to describe that moment. I wanted to fall to my knees, but I knew full well, my weak legs would never let me up. So instead, I chose a wall surrounding a water fall. I bowed my head and said "Thank you SO MUCH. You did it just like you said you would. Every last bit. You said to trust and I said ok and you said I would not fail. And I did not." Kim captured that moment on her camera so perfectly without me knowing.
So ends this journey and I begin to seek guidance for the next. To all who pledged for my charities, THANK YOU! What a gift! Do I apologize for making the full distance since you pledged by the mile? :) Many of you prayed and cheered and stayed up late or got up early to see how the race unfolded. Thank you. I was lifted in prayer to a level that made this, dare I say, easier than it should have been. I had a friend who is a priest saying mass for me (THANK YOU, FR. JACK!). And it all came together so perfectly.
I also cannot thank Kim Vogelgesang enough for her constant, real-time updates throughout the nearly 30 hours. How cool it was for so many to not have to wonder and look up results! Thank you, Kim!!!
I will never again fail to trust that God knows the right path for me. I only pray that I will follow it. I know without at doubt, he wants only happiness for us. He knows how much I love to run and so He gave me a reason to run and by His reason, I experienced more joy that I could ever have imagined. Every injury, every setback, I simply trusted that if I was meant to do this, it would happen, even though at times it seemed highly unlikely. I experienced a decently sprained foot and hamstring tendonitis in my training. My longest distance run was 31 miles. I went 70 miles further on not only little to no sleep the night before, but also that entire day and night. I know that alone, I do not possess that kind of strength or mental fortitude to have achieved this. I crumble in a 26 mile race when it is all about my goal. This was different. I knew if I made it to the start, I would make it to the finish. I just knew and I had been telling people that all along. In a 100 mile race, it is risky to say that because of the high drop rate. The elite guy has just as good a chance as the back of the packer when 100 miles is traveled.
Here are some more pictures from the race:
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| Parking lot party |
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| Kristie :) |
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| Clearly exhaustion is making them this happy... |
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| Waiting for the finish |
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| Erin's turn at pacing |
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| The sweet road to the finish line |
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| Getting my medal/buckle |
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| Needs no caption |
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| Amazing crew |
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| My now favorite shoes! |
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