Ready or NOT!

This is not a post about running.  It is not about pacing or racing or PRs or anything of the sort.  Well not really.

This is a post about my youngest daughter, Lucy.  I have written about Will, Emma and occasionally about Jack.  Seldom do I bring up Lucy.  As the days of summer come to a close, I find myself dealing with a bit of anxiety over Lucy's starting of all day, everyday kindergarten.

I'll be honest... the thought of 5 days a week to myself is mighty appealing.  Preschool is nothing more than a pain in the butt.  No sooner do you drop your child off at preschool and come home to clean up the breakfast dishes or go for a run and it's time to jump back in the car and pick her up again.   Some days I'd have rather kept her home.  Kindergarten will be different.  She will go to school with the big kids and come home with the big kids.  It's what I've been waiting for and dreaming about for the many years I've had small children home for most of the day.  I've had thoughts of all the things I'd do to fill my time, and the ideas are endless.  Returning to work is one of them.  I can go for long runs and not worry about the time.  I can start a project at home and not be interrupted 50 million times before deciding to just not do it at all.  I can go from the kitchen to my bedroom without a needy 5 year old yelling "MOMMY... WAIT FOR MEEEE!"  I can spend Fridays with just John, who has the day off... a tiny glimpse of what life will eventually be like as empty nesters.  I am so ready for this.  Or so I thought.

Lucy had orientation for kindergarten last week.  I took her to her classroom, listened to the plan for the school year by her teacher and then was to leave her with her class so that the teacher could have just the kids... begin to get to know them, tell them the routine, show them where the bathroom is, ect..  Lucy was a bit nervous that morning.  She was very clingy and kept saying "You'll be in the hallway, right mommy?  You won't leave, will you Mom?  Be RIGHT outside, ok, Mommy?"  I watched her closely as her eyes darted all over the room, as if she were searching for something familiar, warm and comforting.  But everything to her was new and I quickly realized, very big and very scary.  Suddenly it hit me that her feelings of fear are no different from that of an adult's feelings of fear.  The difference is how we as adults PERCEIVE our children's fears.  We know they will be fine and we know everything will be ok and so we sometimes get annoyed with their reaction to something that scares them.  They do not know it.  They are entering unfamiliar territory.  They are leaving the security of home and mom and baby-hood and that, my friends, must be the most terrifying thing in the world.

I reassured Lucy that I would be close.  She gripped my neck and buried her head so that no one would see her cry.  I felt her little body shaking and I had to compose myself a bit as this realization of her anxiety was hitting me hard.  I wanted her to know that I understood what it was like to be scared.  How often have things terrified me?  Things as simple as standing on the starting line of a race because I don't know what will happen and things as big as thinking Will was hit by a car 3 years ago when I heard the crunch of a bicycle from a passing car outside my window.  I know fear and I know it well and at all costs I want to protect my children from it.  I imagine this is what God feels like when we are scared of something.  He KNOWS things will be ok and wants us to know that.  He doesn't want us to feel anxious about anything, but just to simply trust and follow the plan.  How much I need to remember that!

Emma consoles Lucy

I stood up and left Lucy at her desk.  Emma was with me, but stayed close to her sister.  I saw Emma crouch down and sweetly try to console her scared little sister.  I remember doing that with my younger sisters a couple of times.  What a beautiful thing for a mother to see!

Please don't go, mom!

I went to the cafeteria and waited for Lucy as promised.  I barely heard a word of the principal or PTC president.  All I could do was think of Lucy and hope she was ok.  I knew she was in the hands of a wonderful and kind teacher.  I just didn't know if she was still upset.

Thirty minutes later I got to see a smiling and happy little girl bouncing down the hallway in line with her new classmates heading to the bathroom.  She beamed as she passed me and I whispered "Thank you, God."  Lucy was going to be just fine.

I needed that experience for many reasons.  I needed it to be more compassionate about my children's fears.  I needed it to realize that when I am afraid, God is reminding me that everything really is going to be ok, like I was telling Lucy.  I needed it to realize I am not a heartless mother who just can't wait for the kids to be gone so that I can spend my days without them.  In contrast, I think Thursday is going to be very difficult for me.  The way I feel right now, I have no qualms about bumping her down to 3 day kindergarten instead of 5 so that I can hang on just a smidge longer.

So parents, whether it's kindergarten, jr. high, high school or college.  Whether it's a new school or a new adventure in your child's life... be kind to them if they are scared.  Their fear is very real and very big.  

I love kindergarten, mommy!

And now I must go run :)

Five weeks and counting

Come Saturday, there are five more weeks until the Air Force Marathon.   Even typing that makes my heart race just a little bit.  I should be out doing an easy run right now and counting up the weeks and realizing just how close it is makes it hard to sit here.  But I know that is for the best.  I am taking an interval class today and I'm slightly tired and I really have figured out that sometimes it's best to scrap a run than to do the run.  We are running two very long runs in one week and I need to be careful, especially so close to the race.  It is with baited breath that I say I am healthy.  Nothing hurts, my calves are cooperative and I feel well trained and strong.  True I've had some runs that make me think I suck, but I've been doing this dog and pony show long enough to respect what the awful feeling training runs are telling me.

It has been nearly two years since I've raced a marathon.  I realize that strategy will bring me to my goal.  The average pace I need for this race is achievable for me.  I know this based on many things, but how I go out and execute it will decide whether I get it or not.  The goal is for me to stick to my race plan.  Don't let the start line suddenly make me stupid as it has so often done before.  Don't let the official pacer with my needed time play any role whatsoever in how I run.  His race strategy could be far different from mine.

I already know that if the forecast calls for a high of over 85 degrees that day, I will not race.  I will run it at long run pace and race the Indianapolis Marathon 4 weeks later, which would put me to Boston 2014 instead of 2013.  No biggie... it'll be there.

I know that if I indeed am racing Air Force, I will arrive with a strong and determined mind and nervous as HELL!  I will not say "we'll see..." or "I'm just not sure I'm feeling it today..." or "this and that is bothering me...."  Even if any of that is true, no one wants to hear it and I don't' want to hear it from myself.  Last week I was telling Suttan that I read a funny article in Marathon and Beyond about a guy's recap of an ultra he'd done.  He said that "perfect weather" is the worst thing for an ultra runner because they can't use it as an excuse for a slow time.  He began to jokingly poke fun of the starting line list of excuses (he included himself in this group).... "I'm just using this as a training run...." was the most common verbalization.  Then from somewhere in the back of the crowd you may hear "Yeah, doctor said it turns out I have no bones in my left leg.  He said to go slow and make sure I take plenty of "S" caps."  Not to be outdone by that, you then hear "Well my doctor said that my kidney should be available any day.  He said to go extra slow and double up on the "S" caps."  I was trying to read this to John and was laughing so hard I could hardly get the words out.  What made it funny is that we all do it (maybe not the no bones or kidney transplant excuse, but still).  We protect our precious pride early on from the critiquing of others and from ourselves.  Not that there aren't any perfectly good reasons why we sometimes do terribly in a race.  Weather IS a factor.  So is making sure you are running injury free.  Of course those things play a big role.  So do pacing, fueling and many, many other things.  So I am trying to get these things ironed out BEFORE I get there... ok, I can't iron out the weather, but I have a plan for hot weather :)

If I don't get my time goal, I'll be disappointed.  I won't, however, be crushed.  Knowing that may be the difference in how I approach the start.  Previously, I was heartbroken, but I will not be this time.  I don't want condolences at the finish line or well intended apologies on my Facebook page, because I won't need them.  

Finally, I read something that I think about often and it makes me feel really good about the upcoming marathon.  For anyone unsure of a goal they have set for themselves, this is good to read:

"Is there any satisfaction in reaching a goal that is easy?  Goals should be a little bit scary.  That small bit of fear will be what makes you work hard and train well."  Jeff Galloway

What I needed

As has been the case for a couple of weeks now, I awoke in a sullen mood.  I drug myself out of bed and made a bee line for the coffee pot.  As I stood against the kitchen counter, I found myself craving a long solo run.  I was aiming for 6-8 miles at an easy pace.  But that was not to be today.  I had agreed to meet one of the guys who is rather new to our running group and has been out for a couple of weeks.  He asked if I had any runs he could join me on this week and I told him Wednesday was his best bet for the pace he wanted.

But honestly, today I just didn't feel like it.  I didn't want to chat or make small talk with anyone.  I wanted to take my bad mood and literally run it off.  I wanted to clear my head, think about some things and immerse myself in some MUCH needed prayer time.  Every so often, when this type of mood develops, running alone is the best medicine for me.  And after a crappy feeling pace training run yesterday, the type that messes with racing confidence, I just needed to do my own thing.
I wasn't going to tell Tim that.  He'd surely think it were some excuse to avoid running with him as I often think people that are new to running heavily rely on the company of others to get them motivated and out the door (completely understandable).  It's very easy to talk yourself out of a run when no one is counting on you to be there.

When my coffee was ready, I went to my computer to read my friend Aleisa's blog and check on baby Nora.  This is the routine I have settled into since the birth of Nora in April.  As I read Aleisa's post, chills crept over me as Aleisa recounted a clear example of God's glaring presence in her life yesterday. How I crave having the type of faith she does!  I was reminded of how compassionate, how loving and how REAL God is.  And when we wholeheartedly believe in Him and His love for us, our prayers are answered.  Sometimes, as seen in Aleisa's case, immediately.  I realized how many people would read that, then take something difficult out onto their back decks and pray.  Perhaps they would be disheartened when the thing they desired the most didn't suddenly appear like it did for Aleisa.  Perhaps those with a complete lack of faith would think "Yup, that's what I figured... nothing..." and go back to their day, unaffected as usual.  I know better than to think that way.

With Nora fresh on my mind, I headed out the door and up the street.  I must've been very deep in thought as a voice from the other side of the street said "Mornin' Kate.".  I looked over in the still darkish morning to see Tim waving.  I ran across the street to chit chat with him and we headed down to Sarah's studio where she and Ryan would join in for part of our run.  Tim and I ran at a very comfortable, conversational pace, discussing our recent vacations, work, kids and road construction on Harrison Avenue.  We got to Sarah's studio where Ryan and Sarah joined us.  Thank God I have people to run with who honestly know the meaning of taking it easy!  We have evolved from the days of trying to be tough and running hard when we shouldn't be.  We can be real and sometimes real is "We all feel like shit and are sluggish and a 10 minute or slower pace suits us today.... oh and yes, some of us can run some damn fast races too!"  My mood had begun to lift as soon as I started running and now it was just about gone at this realization.  We did our loop, dropped Tim off at home along the way and continued down to Sarah's place.  With Ryan and Sarah done, I headed back up Harrison Ave to home.  I had no music to distract me so I just began to think.  I thought about how my morning started and how it was shaping up.  I wanted to run alone, but what I needed was to run with the people I did.  Now I was getting in my alone time.  What began with a morning wallowed in self-pity and grumpiness was replaced with gratitude and peacefulness.  I got home and was greeted by one messy, haired, sleepy-eyed five year old who didn't care that her momma was sweaty, gross and stinky.  For her sake, I went and quickly changed into dry clothes and came downstairs, scooped her up and read her a book.

God is all around us.  He gives us what we need all the time (that is not always what we think we want)  When we pay attention and recognize it, it is incredible.

Thank you God for giving me what I needed today and everyday.

A Family Affair

Growing up in a not only large immediate family, but extended family as well, I remember holidays and parties with cousins, aunts and uncles galore.  Although my family left Vermont, my birthplace, when I was only five, I have vivid early memories of frequent visits from both my mom's and my dad's side of the family.  I remember my grandmother (my mom's mom) annoying the HELL out of my father for bringing us sweets.   He called them "sugar-craps".  I called them wonderful.  

I remember my cousins from Maryland, the McHale's, coming to visit as well as going to visit my Corey cousins in Connecticut (I think that is the right state).  Extended family was a big part of my early years.  When I was five, we moved to Saipan, which is an island in the Mariana Islands.  My dad applied for a school administrator position that was looking for an american to fill.  My parents, who had also lived in American Samoa for a few years (my sister Ruth was born there) were the type who clearly loved adventure and moving to far away places, packed up the family and moved us there.  My sister Maria was the baby at the time.  During the four years we lived there, Barbara, the youngest of the eight, was born (my mother flew to Guam and lived in a convent when she was due... Saipan's one hospital was less than ideal to deliver a baby in.  The best story is when the gentleman from the census came around and my mom answered the door.   Imagine his surprise seeing this full term pregnant woman answer the door at the CONVENT :)

Obviously Saipan was not the type of place that you jump in the car and get to in a few hours.  Nor would a quick plane ride get you there.  So needless to say, we did not see much extended family during our time there.

When we moved to Cincinnati, our Connecticut cousins had moved to Atlanta.  We saw them once a year for a couple of years when they came for Thanksgiving.  The last Thanksgiving they spent at our house, I remember my cousin Matt breaking the wish bone and then having an utter meltdown when his wish didn't suddenly "appear".   It was pretty funny.  I remember thinking what a baby he was being.  Today my cousin Matt is currently serving in Afghanistan.  

I don't even know how much we saw our Maryland cousins but I know it wasn't much at all.  We did have cousins in Indianapolis that we saw a few times a year, but still, not much.  My parents were good at keeping in touch with their siblings by phone and e-mail and would frequently update us on our cousins.  I attended both my cousin's weddings in the 90s and then attended their mother's funeral in February of '99.  Those events, weddings and funerals, were the ones that brought us together.

Enter Team Mitch in 2006.  The devastating death of my brother-in-law in February of 2006 sparked the beginning of our two families, the Coreys and the McLaughlins,  joining together the first weekend in May and running parts of or all of the Flying Pig Marathon.  My cousin, Sean, who had completed several marathons, came out and ran the full Pig that first year.  I cannot remember if his family was with him that year, but they have been most years ever since.  His brother's Brian and Stephen have also come out to run.  Stephen ran his first marathon for Team Mitch and has since done another (Marine Corps) for Eden Autism to support his nephew's school. 

Enter Facebook.   In 2011, the Corey's (from Atlanta and now in Oregon) came to celebrate that weekend.  I believe it was through Facebook and our frequent postings of the 2010 Team Mitch weekend that captured perhaps my Aunt Beth's attention.  My Aunt Beth and Uncle Charlie, along with their three children, Andrew, Elizabeth and Matthew and their families, came out to participate in the 2011 weekend.  I had the time of my life reconnecting with cousins I had not seen in literally, many years.  Matt was no longer the "baby wish bone breaker", but a strikingly handsome young man (and SINGLE for God sakes).  Andrew, who is my age, an incredible runner himself, brought his wife and two daughters, who I remember meeting 12 years ago when they were babies practically.  And then there was Elizabeth and her husband Casey and their four REALLY young kids.  The last time I had seen Liz was at her wedding in 2002, when I was two months from delivering my third baby.  In 2011, every single one of my siblings participated in one of the Flying Pig events on marathon day.  Some ran the full, some did half and some did the relay.  My Oregon cousins also all ran in the Pig... Andrew doing the full (and clocking something ridiculous like a 3:06 for his second marathon ever) and  Matt and Liz doing the half.  My Aunt Beth also did the half marathon.  It was an unforgettable weekend.

On July 4th, my parents, both in their seventies, did their first official 5k, with my mother placing third in her age group.  And on July 15th, I ran the Fueled by Fine Wine half marathon in Oregon with none other than my beautiful and fun cousin, Liz, who lured me in via a Facebook invite on our official Team Mitch Facebook page.  Two of my sister's, Maria and Barbara (and my adorable niece, Mariana, named after the group of islands on which my sister was born) also came.  My Uncle Charlie and Aunt Beth also did that same race, with it being my uncle's first half marathon ever!

Running has connected my family in ways I never imagined it would.  My husband began running to help keep me company for half of my first ultra marathon, which I did after being inspired by my brother who has run many.  My 13 year old ran a half marathon after being promised a paint ball gun if he could complete the training.  Ok, that has nothing to do with anything inspiring and sounds more like he was bribed... but who cares?  He did it!  And the confidence that kid has gained through completing not only the training, but the race will shape the rest of his life.  My brother Joe, a smoker, ran a full marathon then lit up in the finishers chute (classic picture... my favorite of all time), my brother-in-law Scott ran his first full marathon for Team Mitch and has since done several halves.  It's been awesome to think of how far we have all come in just a few short years and how many of us are intrigued by the sport.

On a run last week, Sarah joked that I have probably been "hidden" or maybe even "deleted" on Facebook because of all my "running posts".  I laughed as I imagine all the eyeballs that roll when I post pictures of my most recent races.  I said she was probably correct.  I was also talking to a friend today who told me that someone we mutually know said that it's pretty annoying that all I ever talk about is running.  I've actually been told that by more than one person (don't ask who, John.  I won't tell you because then you won't like that person and I actually do!).  I certainly don't post my races to brag about my race times.  On the contrary, I sometimes cringe to think I may be drawing attention to that aspect.  I understand why some people would feel it's overkill.  But perhaps if those people understood that the very thing I place very high on my priority list is also the very thing that has healed my loved ones broken hearts and brought my family closer together, they may cut me a little slack.  But if not, no biggie.  Delete me.  I intend to keep posting :)

Old Gabe 50k (or rather 25k for us)

We stood at the entrance to the trail head and looked around.  John and I felt like posers.  We both kind of gave each other that look that said "We are wayyyy out of our league.  What are we doing here?"  Actually, I think John did say that.  Neither one of us knew what lay ahead.  And that is a good thing!

The atmosphere was very different from the traditional road marathon.  Packet pickup consisted of a long white table right at the entrance to the trailhead where we would begin.  They gave me my bib number that said "50k" and explained they were simply using numbers from last year.  Ok, this was NOT what I was used to.  I mean, we were the first 25k people to even register.  Why wasn't my bib assigned?  Who is in charge?  How disorganized!  I could almost hear myself say to my OWN self "Shut it, city girl.  This is how they do things around here."  No signing a waiver in case you become dismembered or die from a fall.  No frills.  Gallons of water on a table next to a few off-brand energy gels in case you needed to fill your bottles before the start.

However nothing was quite as intimidating as the participants.  At a marathon, you see all kinds of types and shapes.  You see the stone cold elite, super fit badass and you see the recreational jogger, who maybe got in one good 20 miler and is running their first marathon.  The runners here were not the latter.  This is where John and I began to feel a bit uncomfortable in our skin.  Everyone had on trail shoes.... that were definitely used.  They all had a similar "look" about them.  The type of look that said, "I run these mountains for fun every day.  In fact, I do hill repeats on them."  The girls were all slim, muscular and seriously fit.  The men as well.  Nothing told us maybe we weren't ready like looking around at the runners.  We had on the right trail shoes, socks and gear.  But having all that stuff was NOT what was going to get us up that mountain.  And we weren't quite sure we had what we needed for that.

The race director (or some cute volunteer in braided pigtails... which for some reason many of the girls sported.  I didn't even know this when I opted for pigtails that morning) shuffled us to the starting line.  A red chalked line drawn across the gravel driveway.  She gave us a few instructions and then said "GO!"  As we entered the trail head and on to single track trail, we were running single file.  Essentially, you were doing everything the guy or gal in front of you was doing.  If they walked and you wanted to keep running, too bad.  At least in the beginning.  We had two gals who we assumed were friends running in front of us.  They had what I considered at the time, the perfect pace and so I mimicked what they did.  We came to our first creek, which many people tiptoed over rocks to get across.  John and I tried to do the same, but John quickly realized that would be a sure fire way for him to slip and fall so he began to run right through all the creeks, soaking his shoes immediately.  I worried he would be blistered early on and that would NOT be good.  However, I began to do the same.

Up the mountain we went.  First running, then walking, then running when we could.  The first 1.5 miles wasn't too bad.  It was mostly running, but not at a ridiculous incline.  At about 1.5 miles, things began to get a little more technical.  The trail became rockier and more difficult, as well as steep.  The majority of runners ahead, no let me change that to ALL, were doing an alternate run a little, then walk a little.  Even walking was becoming tiresome the steeper the incline got.  You could not look up unless you were walking or stopped.  You would surely fall.  We continued to climb and at times were forced to stop and take a breather... even while walking.  This was when I would snap an occasional picture as I stopped and marveled at how incredibly gorgeous it was.  I vowed to enjoy the view and not get caught up in time.  I emailed a few pics to Sarah, who was likely having a fit that I was leisurely snapping pictures while there were "runners" ahead and a race going on.  Those pictures were taken when I just needed a second to ease the burn in my legs and lungs.

One of the things that had me concerned the night before was when I was reading Scott Jurek's new book "Eat and Run".  He describes the day he knew he was ready for the Western States 100, a race he won seven consecutive times.  He happily reported a mile split of a mountainous hill repeat as a 14:00 min/mile.  I looked at it again to make sure I was reading correctly.  Who is happy about a 14 minute mile?  Now I know.

I couldn't believe the effort I was putting forth and then splits that were appearing on my Garmin... 14:06, 16:15, 22:29.... up, up, up we went.  The track got steeper, the terrain rockier.  We were nearly mile 4, the top of the first peak.  I looked around and began to feel a little lightheaded.  So I decided to look not to look around for a bit.  Especially when one false step to the left would send me tumbling down a rocky steep mountainside.  I am assuming that was the change in altitude.  When we reached the peak, I was thrilled that I was not feeling sick or crazy or any of the other things that people describe when they run at higher than they are used to altitudes.  John seemed to be doing well also.  Like me, he experienced some dizziness, but nothing that stopped either of us.

There were race volunteers at the top with gallons of water.  They filled my first bottle and said it was all the water they had for the rest of the race.  I suppose they had to conserve as I still wonder how the heck they got up there with all those gallons.  I can tell you right now that no vehicle got them there!  I looked over the edge and saw nothing but snow and a huge downhill slope.  Um, not sure how I was going to get down THAT.  So after a quick pic of John and I to prove to my family we were alive, I began sidestepping down.  One quick misstep and I was suddenly on my ass, zooming downhill.  Next time I will wear lycra shorts.  My running shorts immediately produced a wedgie, which meant I was flying bare assed on icy snow down this hill.  I felt like razor blades were rolling across my backside as I braced myself for the stop.  I dug my shoe into the snow with all  my might to try to stop myself.  Finally, I stopped and stood up.  Unfortunately my shorts stayed put and the dude behind me got a lovely moon shot of my scraped up cheeks.  Oh well.

For the next 4 miles, we were able to "run" the majority of it.  You'd never know by our splits that we were indeed, running, but we were.  We averaged anywhere from 12:00-14:00 min/mile during this segment.  It was EXTREMELY technical and much of the time was spent hopping laterally down narrow, rocky trail.  One false move and a total disaster could have happened.  It was taking all of our strength to stay upright and to hold ourselves back.  The price for that was that my quads took an absolute beating.  By the time we reached the bottom, I was begging for some uphill!  That thought quickly changed once we had hydrated, eaten and were on our way uphill again.  All we had to do now was go back up the way we came and go back to where we started.  Out and back course.  One of the things that warned me of how difficult this would be was when I saw the first place guy coming back up after he had turned around.  I was on my way down and he was pushing his quads as he walked up the hill.  He was the first place male.  I was scared.

We ended up in a single file row of runners.  We chatted with the girls who I remember seeing at the beginning.  It was then I learned they were doing the 50k.  I could not fathom how anyone could do more than what we were doing.  It took us 2 hrs and 38 minutes to do the first 8.23 miles!  My clue as to the difficulty of this course was that JFK allotted a 12 hour time limit for 50 miles.  Old Gabe allotted a 12 hour time limit for 30.

Mile 10 -12 were the two most difficult miles I have ever done.  One of those miles took 34 minutes to travel.  The incline was so steep that at times, we were reduced to a crawl on our hands and feet to gain any distance at all.  We remained single file for awhile and then began to separate a bit as we all took breaks when needed.  I would occasionally get a "second wind" and pass whomever was ahead of me.  Those brief periods of energy lasted all of about for 20 steps then I was dragging again and that person would pass me.  This happened a lot and was pretty comical.  We finally reached the mountain peak again.  All we had to do was go 4 miles downhill and we were DONE!  Four miles SOUNDS so easy to a road runner, doesn't it?  In my mind, I winced at the thought of four miles.  And all steep downhill... the same way we had come up in the beginning.  We began running and for the most part, ran the entire way down the mountain.  Again, we were sporting 14-15 minute splits during this steep downhill portion.  The passing through creeks washed all the mud that had accumulated on our trail shoes from the second uphill portion (where the melted snow had produced thick, slippery mud that sometimes you'd slide BACKWARD in!).  I wasn't sure how much more my quads could support my weight.  Each step down was like an electric jolt.

We finally came to the trail head entrance and finished.  No music, no announcer, and NO MEDAL... (WHAT THE HECK???).  Just a few volunteers and some runners saying, "here are 500 and 501.  Good job, guys."  That was it.  It was the best :).  Our official time was 5 hrs 27 minutes (and some seconds).  Yes, that is for 16.66 miles.  Average pace was a 19:40 min/mile.  I finished 49th (John 50th, hee hee) out of 70 registered 25k racers.  Five were DNF's and five or so were DNS (which I assume meant "Did not start" or geez, maybe it's "Did not survive".  Hope not!)  We were not last.  HURRAYYY!!!  And for two city people from Ohio running a race where EVERYONE is from Montana or Colorado or Wisconsin, we certainly held our own on those mountains!

So what do I think?  I think that was the hardest thing I have ever done physically, but also the most incredibly rewarding and wonderful thing. This was harder than the JFK 50, hands down.  I am proud that John and I took a blind leap of faith and just went out west and ran the mountains with virtually no mountain trail running training.  I think so often I over think things to death and paralyze myself, therefore I essentially cheat myself out of some unbelievable life experiences.  I worried incessantly about my calves and my Air Force training.  I nearly had myself convinced to cancel the trip and just go back to Key Biscayne and not bargain with getting hurt.  Ironically enough, Miami had thunderstorms nearly the entire weekend!  That trip would have had crappy weather for the first time in 6 years.  Compare that to the sunshine, low humidity and awesome weather we had in Montana the ENTIRE WEEKEND, we definitely made the right choice.

And maybe this helped, maybe it didn't, but I am inclined to think that coincidence is more rare than we think.  I can no longer train and push myself the way I do, get through disappointment and injury the way I do, run side by side with my favorite people the way I do... without knowing who I owe it all to.  John and I talked about this after the race.  I told him that during times where I could not put forth any more effort than I was, I found myself happy, smiling internally, thanking God for what I am able to do.  I thought often of John's grandmother, who is dying at Bailey Place.  She has a broken hip, possibly a broken arm and is in tremendous pain.  She is swollen from head to toe, unresponsive and under 24 hour nursing care.  I know how hard it is for John to visit her, which he does most days on his lunch hour.  We are all praying for the same thing... eternal peace... and QUICKLY.

I thought of my sister, Maria.  I thought of Mitch.  I thought of my friends, the Yuskos and their sweet baby Nora who has much to do with how I view things nowadays.  I thought of the fact that I have two living, active parents.  Two living, active in-laws.  I have seven siblings and always have.  I have four healthy, crazy, funny kids.  I have friends I would trust with my life.  In a nutshell, I have more than I deserve and I realize that.  So if I thought for one second that this was "HARD" and found myself internally whining a bit, I was quickly brought out of that mindset.  Instead I focused on the strong smell of the Montana pine trees, the indescribable view from on top of that mountain and the fact that I was doing what I love with the person I love most (thanks, Deb :)

Would I do it again?  Nope.  Not the 25k.  Next year John wants to tackle the entire 50k course.  You know, John... my husband... who hates running.

Oh boy... Here we go!!!

Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail. Ralph Waldo Emerson My dear John, I have news for you. We may very well land our very first last place finish on Saturday. Think about, accept it and embrace it. How many others get those special bragging rights? In just five days, John and I will be celebrating our 16th wedding anniversary. For the past five years we have spent our anniversary weekend in Key Biscayne, Fla. The weekend is always extremely laid back, lazy and low key. We return home refreshed, recharged, rested and ready to dive head first into another year of wedded craziness... I mean bliss. Seven months ago after the completion of my first, as thus far only, ultra distance event, I was flying high for quite a while thinking about doing what I had once considered highly unlikely and pretty much impossible. I pitched the idea to John about taking a different sort of trip this year for our anniversary. We talked about it and agreed that a race described as "The world's toughest 50k" would be a "fun" and "wise" choice. We'd make a weekend out of flying out west, scaling tall mountains, marveling at the breathtaking scenery and having a blast. The more I read the description of the race, the less confident I felt that two people who lived and trained at 500 ft above sea level should try to run 31 miles starting at 5500 ft above sea level and peaking at 8500 ft. So I did what any reasonable runner would do. I convinced John that we should do the 25k instead. Hell, that is only 15 miles. After all, how often do we bust out a nice 15 miler? Surely, this would be no big deal. "No big deal" is long gone from my brain. "No big deal" is replaced with "What the heck was I thinking?". This is a huge deal! This would be super tough on healthy legs. What will happen to two dumbasses who have been dealing with calf issues this spring? But let me say this... I have considered that we may both be sick as dogs trying to "race" at that elevation. We might place last and feel like hell doing it. We might set our marathon training back by weeks because we have screwed up our calves again. I might miss my chance at Boston for next year and we might both get fat and grumpy because we can't run. We might argue the whole way up the mountain and not speak the whole way down. We may return home exhausted, sore and in need of a RELAXING getaway. No doubt, all of these things are quite possible. But all things considered, I am super excited to do this even in the face of those possibilities. And I think John is the coolest thing ever for agreeing to do it with me. Looking forward to an unbelievably memorable anniversary!

Flying Pig Wrap Up and Bullshit Runners

Don't worry, Sarah, this is going to be a nice post!  I know you didn't think so with the title as you probably thought "Oh Jeez, what is she going to say and who is she going to piss off... again... now let me go get some coffee and watch the spectacle unfold...."  On the contrary.  This is going to be a lighthearted recap of Sunday's "long run" (yeah, sure) with a few thoughts about the competitive runner mindset.

The Flying Pig Marathon was my most favorite to date.  Before Sunday, I would have to say it was New York (which I forgot about in my previous post when I said Indy... so now that is in third place).  New York, being my first, will always have a special place in my heart.  I suppose I should mention that I also loved last year's Air Force since I ran it with John, his first (don't want to get myself in hot water here).  The Pig is special for many reasons.  First of all, for the past 6 years (7 Pigs), it has been run as part of Team Mitch.  So Mitch being the focus of the race made it special to begin with.  I have participated each year.  The first year was as a cheerleader since I was 4 months pregnant and in no shape to run a marathon.  I've been a relay team member, a half marathoner, a full marathoner and a DNF.  So I've had the well rounded Pig experience.

This year my plan was to run the race as a Boston Qualifier.  It's weird to say I'm glad it didn't work out that way, but I'm glad it didn't work out that way.  I am not glad I got hurt to begin with.  But I am glad that it provided me the opportunity to run it relaxed and with two terrific friends of mine, Sarah and Suttan.  Now, let's define "relaxed".  Relaxed does not mean it was easy.  It wasn't easy.  And anyone that tells you that a marathon is easy is either lying or just has the most ridiculously hard life that a marathon IS actually easy to them... or they are an ultra runner or an elite who logs over 100 miles a week, but not the normal population I am referring to.  Are there times when one marathon experience was easier or more pleasant than others?  Sure there are.  But no matter what pace you are running 26.2 miles, even if it is snail pace for you, there are moments during that distance that are tough.  Calling a marathon "tough" does not mean that you had to have hit the wall hard.  I ran three "easy" marathons last fall.  They were definitely enjoyable and pleasant experiences, but there were tough moments.  I was always happy to cross that finish mat, I always disliked mile 19 and I always limped back to my car.  Here is the magic that the experienced marathoner holds that the first timer doesn't though... the experienced marathoner knows you  almost always can push past a tough point, a rookie does not.  The experienced marathoner knows that blistered toes, an aching back and hips do not mean you are empty and can't go on.  The rookie does not.  The experienced marathoner has done enough long runs to know that you can start a run thinking "Oh hell no...not today..." only to continue trudging along and finding yourself in a place where it actually feels pretty effortless.  The rookie does not.  On Sunday, I experienced all these things, yet still loved the marathon because I have enough experience with running long (not just races, but training runs too) to know that the discomforts were par for the course.  It was also a gorgeous day, I was running with the gals, we had great crowd support and there were moments it was effortless (the downhill moments, of course).  So I was completely relaxed and in a marathon setting, as I've stated before, that is huge for me.

But what I love about the rookie distance runner is their lack of need to prove anything to anyone.  They are usually pretty honest about their experience..."Oh God that was the most horrible thing I have ever done and I felt like hell and my time is embarrassing, but I am so happy to be alive I could cry.  And crossing the finish line was life changing so I just signed up for 3 more...."  Ahhhh, refreshing!  The experienced marathoner or half marathoner (please note I am including myself in this lot... I have a huge ego when it comes to running) has quite different recall.  Take for example my wonderful brother Jack..."You know what?  That was soooo easy.  I could have done it twice.  I think I'll go downtown right now and run it again.  What?  My time?  Oh well I just thought "what the heck, I'm having such a great time I actually want to prolong this experience.  Yeah, that's it..."  Yep... that is the experienced marathoner for ya!  And to prove I'm not picking on anyone without picking on myself, I will admit I was mortified that anyone would have thought that my Pig time was a PR.  I mean, what an insult!!  So I just HAD to post on Facebook that is wasn't.  The funny thing is my PR is only 12 minutes faster but by my post you'd think I was in the olympics or something.

So here is my new outlook on my own marathoning:  I am going to try hard to be real about my experiences.  By inflating the joy of the experience (even though in a different way it really is joyful, hence the record numbers to distance races each year), we make others feel bad or less than.  No Jack, I didn't feel less than when you recapped... because all I know is I clocked a better time :)  Nor is Jack's intention to EVER make anyone feel "less than".  Jack is a genuinely kind runner who loves to help others and loves to see others do well (with a BIG ego also).  And I suppose than having run 2 100 mile races and several 50 milers and 50k's, maybe it was perspective and recall of some terrible feeling ultras that made him really perceive the Flying Pig as "AWESOME FEELING!"  But dude, you just can't say that stuff to the normal population... particularly the aching, exhausted runner who just ran one leg of the relay in the marathon you just ran.  See what I'm saying?

I'll tell you right now I had some rough moments on Sunday.  Beginning with mile 3 when I thought..."Please warm up soon... we are actually running an easy pace".  Onward to mile 14..."Wow, this is the best day ever..." and mile 15..."This Sucks.  Where is the finish?" and mile 16 "Oh HEY, there's my friend Chrissy manning the water stop HI CHRISSSYYYY"... and mile 19... I've never liked you, mile 19"... and mile 20.5...."Shit!  Right shin please PLEASE go away...Mitch, quit laughing!"... and mile 24... "I HATE marathoning... hey Sarah, remind me that Calvary was harder on Jesus than this, would ya?"... and mile 26.2..."That was so awesome... BEST MARATHON EVER!"  There is actually a youtube video that mimics those exact sentiments and it is spot on.  Now how that could ever translate to "I felt great the whole way and had no discomfort whatsoever", I'm not sure.  But somehow it does for many of us.  The beauty of that race was that through all of it, I could hold a decent and steady pace despite what my brain was saying to me.  The magic is in shutting the brain up for a bit.  That is the "IT WAS AWESOME!" part of that race.  We need to let that be known a little more.


The overall experience of Sunday's run was memorable and awesome.  And I'll go on record as saying that I intend to run it relaxed and fun every year and not as a race.  I will save the racing for the flat PRish looking courses.  Call me a sissy... don't care.  What counts is the chip time.  The BAA isn't going to sit around and be impressed at the elevation chart I send them to make them more impressed that I qualified on a "hard course" (I think I once actually let myself think they would be... stupid!)  No matter who tells you the Pig is flat after Eden Park, do not believe them.  It has sneaky hills than creep up everywhere along the way.  The elevation chart is a big fat lie!  So save yourself the heartache and race yourself to death on an "easy" course.  I promise it will still be very hard.  And without question, WILL.BE.AWESOME!!!