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.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
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!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
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!!!
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!!!
Monday, April 30, 2012
Just another fun run
This was the theme last year... running marathons for fun as "training runs" to prepare myself for the JFK 50. I'd sign up as a way to motivate myself to get my long runs in and get a medal and a cheering squad for getting out there and doing what I had to do anyway. With the pressure of a time goal off the table, I looked forward to the marathons and delighted in completing the distance. No matter what time I finished, I felt spent, exhausted and like I could not go another step. In other words, I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment in finishing the marathon. They weren't my fastest, they weren't my slowest. But they were my favorite. Perhaps my favorite of all was the morning I packed up, headed to Indy solo, got my race packet that morning and hopped in line at the start. That one felt the most like just another long run. I had run the Chicago Marathon 5 days before and although it was chaotic fun, with all the bells and whistles of a big time race, it paled in comparison to the small town, beautiful fall morning run through Fort Benjamin Harrison.
Every single thing I love about running was wrapped up in that 4 1/2 hour long run, with the exception of having someone to chat with along the way. The weather was perfect and the course was scenic. I had lots of time to think, pray and enjoy the run. I saw every type of runner and tried to imagine their story... the wall hitters, the limping runners, the true racers... why were they here today? Was anyone else doing this as a training run for an ultra? To be so in-tuned to my surroundings was such a new and awesome experience for me. The theme for 2010 was "marathon disasters". I came out of that year with the feeling of wanting to just take up a different sport. I was mentally exhausted and felt like the pressures and failures from the previous two years had taken such a toll. I wanted my race times to reflect my ability, but at best, my performances in races labeled me as "ok". I focused on the finish time, not everything I went through to make it to the finish. No matter what I did, the time was all that mattered. I loved running long, but at that time I absolutely hated racing. My ego was far too big to handle the disappointments of those marathons, even though one of them was a huge PR for me.
Summer and fall of 2011 morphed me into a different kind of runner. Time didn't matter. Distance mattered and I found tremendous joy and happiness in being going out and running for a really long time.
When JFK was over, it was time to incorporate speed into all that endurance training. Although I loved the slow long runs, I still had that desire to go fast. I could not wait to begin to do those lung burning, hard running workouts again. For a couple of months, things went perfectly. Long runs, easy runs, track work and tempo. The memory of injury was getting a little too distant and I forgot that unless you are really paying attention, it is very easy to screw things up pretty quickly. I stopped stretching and icing so religiously. My diet isn't what it was last year. I'm getting a tad less sleep and I'm not always paying attention to the ever important heart rate training I was so religious about. I forgot that I wasn't doing all those things when I cavalierly went out to run with Will for his very first half marathon the day after running 22 miles. I forgot to remind myself that a lot of things were different from the fall. To say I wish I hadn't isn't true. I'm so glad I did. But it cost me a solid 5 weeks of marathon training. Five weeks that I could not do any speed work and minimal running. One, two and maybe even three weeks of lost training, ok..., but five is too many and goals must be readjusted. Of course I say 5, but it's more like going on seven as I would not dare go out and do a speed workout on my healing calf right now. And so my goal has gone from racing for a BQ at the Pig with Sarah to running the marathon and going the distance... with Sarah. She has agreed to run with me, although I think she is prime shape to nail a sub 3:30. She has NEVER, EVER run a race without the goal of getting to the finish as fast as she can in her head. I feel it is my duty to change that for her and increase her running longevity. She has threatened to run under an alias.
This marathon will be like no other I've ever run. I have accepted running it without a time goal so easily because I know the satisfaction in the finish alone. A certain friend of mine doesn't know that kind of satisfaction yet. I've gotten a couple of e-mails from sweet, well-meaning friends who have said they were sorry to hear I couldn't race and how badly I must feel. It's funny, I don't even know how to respond. Sure I'd like for everything to have gone as I had planned it to for the Pig. But it didn't and yet I am equally excited to run. The desire for a BQ is there, but there will always be other marathons to run. This marathon has no threat of disappointment whatsoever. How could I not look forward to it?
I am running to celebrate the memory of my brother-in-law, Mitch. I am running with the most incredible, thankful heart for a sweet baby girl and well as in thanksgiving for a million other things.
Next time, I am running to crush a Boston Qualifier.
Every single thing I love about running was wrapped up in that 4 1/2 hour long run, with the exception of having someone to chat with along the way. The weather was perfect and the course was scenic. I had lots of time to think, pray and enjoy the run. I saw every type of runner and tried to imagine their story... the wall hitters, the limping runners, the true racers... why were they here today? Was anyone else doing this as a training run for an ultra? To be so in-tuned to my surroundings was such a new and awesome experience for me. The theme for 2010 was "marathon disasters". I came out of that year with the feeling of wanting to just take up a different sport. I was mentally exhausted and felt like the pressures and failures from the previous two years had taken such a toll. I wanted my race times to reflect my ability, but at best, my performances in races labeled me as "ok". I focused on the finish time, not everything I went through to make it to the finish. No matter what I did, the time was all that mattered. I loved running long, but at that time I absolutely hated racing. My ego was far too big to handle the disappointments of those marathons, even though one of them was a huge PR for me.
Summer and fall of 2011 morphed me into a different kind of runner. Time didn't matter. Distance mattered and I found tremendous joy and happiness in being going out and running for a really long time.
When JFK was over, it was time to incorporate speed into all that endurance training. Although I loved the slow long runs, I still had that desire to go fast. I could not wait to begin to do those lung burning, hard running workouts again. For a couple of months, things went perfectly. Long runs, easy runs, track work and tempo. The memory of injury was getting a little too distant and I forgot that unless you are really paying attention, it is very easy to screw things up pretty quickly. I stopped stretching and icing so religiously. My diet isn't what it was last year. I'm getting a tad less sleep and I'm not always paying attention to the ever important heart rate training I was so religious about. I forgot that I wasn't doing all those things when I cavalierly went out to run with Will for his very first half marathon the day after running 22 miles. I forgot to remind myself that a lot of things were different from the fall. To say I wish I hadn't isn't true. I'm so glad I did. But it cost me a solid 5 weeks of marathon training. Five weeks that I could not do any speed work and minimal running. One, two and maybe even three weeks of lost training, ok..., but five is too many and goals must be readjusted. Of course I say 5, but it's more like going on seven as I would not dare go out and do a speed workout on my healing calf right now. And so my goal has gone from racing for a BQ at the Pig with Sarah to running the marathon and going the distance... with Sarah. She has agreed to run with me, although I think she is prime shape to nail a sub 3:30. She has NEVER, EVER run a race without the goal of getting to the finish as fast as she can in her head. I feel it is my duty to change that for her and increase her running longevity. She has threatened to run under an alias.
This marathon will be like no other I've ever run. I have accepted running it without a time goal so easily because I know the satisfaction in the finish alone. A certain friend of mine doesn't know that kind of satisfaction yet. I've gotten a couple of e-mails from sweet, well-meaning friends who have said they were sorry to hear I couldn't race and how badly I must feel. It's funny, I don't even know how to respond. Sure I'd like for everything to have gone as I had planned it to for the Pig. But it didn't and yet I am equally excited to run. The desire for a BQ is there, but there will always be other marathons to run. This marathon has no threat of disappointment whatsoever. How could I not look forward to it?
I am running to celebrate the memory of my brother-in-law, Mitch. I am running with the most incredible, thankful heart for a sweet baby girl and well as in thanksgiving for a million other things.
Next time, I am running to crush a Boston Qualifier.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
On Monday morning I sat down and wrote a long post about Sunday's 20 mile run and how my knee was hurting but my calf was ok. As I started writing, a 43 year old mother was struck by a car and killed instantly about 3 miles from my house. Obviously I didn't know it was happening. As I finished typing I got a text from my friend Nancy asking if I knew who in our circle of runners was running that morning because a pedestrian had been stuck and killed on Harrison Avenue. A feeling of immediate panic came over me as I went over the list in my head of the runners I know. There were two I worried about more than any as I thought of the possibility of who would run alone along that route. Every time I dismissed the thought... "No, she'd never run that route alone...", it was replaced with "Well maybe she did today."
Several texts and one anxious husband later (sorry Keith), it was confirmed that everyone was safe. I did not believe it was anyone I knew.
Hours later the news revealed the name of 43 year old Melissa Meyer, who while walking to work, collapsed from a previous medical condition and lay unseen by the driver who ran over her. My heart felt sad as I stopped to say a prayer for her and her family.
When John came home from work last night he said he saw a car stopped at the accident seen and saw someone place flowers on the guardrail. How sweet! After dinner Will asked me if we could run the trails at the park. Not really wanting to, as night is not my energetic time, I agreed as I thought of what a rare thing it was for him to ask.
I decided to enter the park on Harrison, so I could see where the woman was hit. As I drove toward the scene, the sight of the flowers on the guardrail and the sign brought a flood of emotion I did not expect. No, I did not lose someone I knew and cared about, but someone was grieving terribly for the loss of their mother. There are lives shattered by this woman's unforeseen death. For someone, the shining, beautiful day was a mockery of their devastation. The world LOOKS perfect in Harrison, but for Melissa's family, it was anything but. I also thought of the poor, poor man who hit Melissa. His life is forever changed and haunted.
Will and I said a prayer together. We asked God to bring peace and healing to her family and to the man who hit her. I hope so much they are finding a little.
RIP, Melissa.
Several texts and one anxious husband later (sorry Keith), it was confirmed that everyone was safe. I did not believe it was anyone I knew.
Hours later the news revealed the name of 43 year old Melissa Meyer, who while walking to work, collapsed from a previous medical condition and lay unseen by the driver who ran over her. My heart felt sad as I stopped to say a prayer for her and her family.
When John came home from work last night he said he saw a car stopped at the accident seen and saw someone place flowers on the guardrail. How sweet! After dinner Will asked me if we could run the trails at the park. Not really wanting to, as night is not my energetic time, I agreed as I thought of what a rare thing it was for him to ask.
I decided to enter the park on Harrison, so I could see where the woman was hit. As I drove toward the scene, the sight of the flowers on the guardrail and the sign brought a flood of emotion I did not expect. No, I did not lose someone I knew and cared about, but someone was grieving terribly for the loss of their mother. There are lives shattered by this woman's unforeseen death. For someone, the shining, beautiful day was a mockery of their devastation. The world LOOKS perfect in Harrison, but for Melissa's family, it was anything but. I also thought of the poor, poor man who hit Melissa. His life is forever changed and haunted.
Will and I said a prayer together. We asked God to bring peace and healing to her family and to the man who hit her. I hope so much they are finding a little.
RIP, Melissa.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Today marks the beginning of the holiest of days ahead. It is Holy Thursday, a day christians reflect on the things Christ did as he prepared for his death on the cross. It is a solemn day in the christian community. Or it should be. I say this as I pack my family for a vacation that involves heading to the beach. I have filled my days with busy-ness this week... laundry, errands, cleaning. I have tried to reflect on the meaning of Lenten season, but have had a really hard time focusing on the significance of it all. I have spent the past two weeks fighting feelings of anxiety over not being able to run the miles needed as I wrap up training for the Pig. That has become the constant thought in the back (ok, fine... front) of my mind. Not the anxiety of Jesus as he was well aware of what was waiting for him. My morning prayers usually consist of asking for complete release of this tight and cramped up muscle in my right leg, rather than asking for patience and complete trust that things will work out the way they are meant to. I need to be reminded that they always do, whether I see it or not. As I entered Lent, the focus of my prayers was Christ and the humble gratitude I felt for what he did. As Lent wraps up, the shift has gone to Kate and the fact that she is not running like she wants to be. It is not something I'm proud of myself for, but it is something I recognize and that recognition is by no means coincidence. In a flurry of days where my prayers stemmed from frustration, there was the awareness that I was not focusing on the right things. At one point, I quieted my mind and asked God to help change that. I was sincere and unhurried and totally present during that time. What a timely morning for God to answer me.
May you focus on the importance of the season. Run with gratitude. Run with humility.
Have a blessed Easter.
May you focus on the importance of the season. Run with gratitude. Run with humility.
Have a blessed Easter.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Pot Stirrer
I belong to this group on Facebook called "Facebook Runners." Yesterday a gentleman posted his excitement over the fact that next month he will be running his very first marathon... The Boston Marathon. My eyebrows raised as I saw that he had 71 comments because I KNEW there would be a battle. And so I looked.
The third comment was from a man who wrote "Good luck at Boston. You have already been lucky enough to get in without having to qualify. Enough said on that subject." YEAH RIGHT! Enough said? Are you kidding me? Instantly (I could tell by the time the comments were posted), everybody and their brother weighed in on Frank's (the commentator) comment. Some were in support, some were appalled that he would write that. I learned quickly from Marvin, the guy who's status it was, that he was indeed running for charity after losing 150 pounds and raising $5000.00. Back and forth the battle went. I could see the point of both sides... those that got shut out of the marathon who did qualify and those that were in complete support of Marvin. I wanted to comment, but quite truthfully, I wasn't sure how. Until now. Here is how I feel about those that run Boston for charity.
First of all, I learned that charity spots do not replace or reduce the number from the general field. If there were no charity spots, Boston would not increase their general field size. I learned this from one of the people who commented. My thought is this, if that is the case, why would it bother anyone if someone ran the Boston Marathon for charity? And maybe I stick my neck out on the line by saying this too... even if it does replace general field numbers, who cares? Now I realize that it's easy for me to say this as I have not qualified for Boston and have never applied and been shut out. My friend Jen has and I know it was very hard for her. Two years earlier and she would have been in. It seems very unfair and I sure as hell wouldn't have taken it well. I was offered a charity position through Livestrong by my friend Molly for the 2011 Boston Marathon and declined. Not because I thought running Boston for charity was wrong, but because I wanted to run it as a qualifier. That was a matter of what I wanted for myself.
People who get mad at those who run Boston for charity are assholes. I'm sorry if this puts any reader in that category, but come on. We have become a nation with such a sense of entitlement that we can't even see the good in those that have worked their ass off to raise money for a cause. No, we are angry because after all, we trained and busted our asses and someone took our spot. Well I loved my brother's comment on Marvin's status when he wrote "Marvin, enjoy every minute of Boston. More people have qualified for Boston than have lost 150 pounds!" AMEN! I can't even really shake the winter 5 lbs I put on. Forget 150! People have become so angry, so selfish that it kills them to step out of themselves when they feel slighted. I know some people who are the most dedicated, hard working, ass busting, committed runners that will never be fast enough to qualify for Boston. And I happen to know of someone who qualified for Boston in their very first marathon run. I commend the natural athlete in that person. To have raw talent like that is a gift and I would hope that he would see it that way. I've got news for some of the people who posted negatively on Marvin's status... yes, you may have run Boston 20 times, qualifying over and over again. And you may believe that you are something special for this reason. But lets bring perspective into this... your marathon time may be a really bad time for someone better than you. Your time may have a better runner very upset over their performance if that's what they got. But it is YOUR best time and in it's natural right, should be applauded and celebrated. Same goes for those slower than you.
I don't know how this spring is going to shake out. If I qualify for Boston and get shut out, without a doubt, I will be disappointed. But I can guarantee that I will not be bitter or angry toward those who do get to run. Maybe seeing this post was supposed to get me to think about this and how I would react, not just in this situation, but it my running life in general. I am currently nursing some kind of calf/shin/lower leg pain that has not allowed me to run since last Sunday when I ran with Will. I have continued "training" the best I can on my elliptical and thankfully can get my bike out this week as well. I know full well the reason I am hurt and it could have been prevented. And I spent a good part of week angry at myself for screwing up flawless and careful training with the decision to run 13 miles the day after a 22 mile run. After all, I did this last fall and never had a problem. The difference is that last fall the paces I ran these back to back long runs were slower and I was always careful the day after a very long run not to push the pace. I didn't know Will would run as well he did (I should say I didn't expect him to run as well as he did) and really did believe the pace would not be a problem. My anger about my decision to run his pace spilled over (of course!) to blaming John for my current problem, which he swore he knew was coming :) I told him that I WOULD have backed off if I thought he wouldn't be upset with me for not staying with Will during his first big race. Truth is, I needed somewhere to direct my anger about what has taken place because looking at myself in an honest light is really, REALLY hard. John took it in stride as he figured he'd be to blame somehow. It isn't hard to figure out why I'm hurt. But would I change what I did? Had I not run with Will, I would have missed seeing my son in a light I've never seen before. I would have missed seeing how he worked through some major difficult moments and conquered them. Those moments on that course provided a rare peak into the workings of a very private boy's mind. I would not go back and do anything different. Well ok, maybe I would have run my 22 miler on Friday like I was going to, but that is besides the point. This is part of being a runner and I have been fortunate enough to run without issues and reach a major goal of mine last year. We will see how the spring goes. I was only able to run a mile yesterday and it produced more pain than I would have liked, but there are many weeks left and I get better each day.
And finally, as John told me yesterday, there are many more marathons to run and to pick from.
So Marvin, enjoy Boston! By all rights, you "deserve" to be there by your incredible dedication and will power proven by your ability to lose that amount of weight and raise money for a good cause (at least I hope it's a good cause!). And if I am back on here in September angrily ranting about being shut out of Boston because of stupid charity runners, kindly remind me of what an asshole I am being.
The third comment was from a man who wrote "Good luck at Boston. You have already been lucky enough to get in without having to qualify. Enough said on that subject." YEAH RIGHT! Enough said? Are you kidding me? Instantly (I could tell by the time the comments were posted), everybody and their brother weighed in on Frank's (the commentator) comment. Some were in support, some were appalled that he would write that. I learned quickly from Marvin, the guy who's status it was, that he was indeed running for charity after losing 150 pounds and raising $5000.00. Back and forth the battle went. I could see the point of both sides... those that got shut out of the marathon who did qualify and those that were in complete support of Marvin. I wanted to comment, but quite truthfully, I wasn't sure how. Until now. Here is how I feel about those that run Boston for charity.
First of all, I learned that charity spots do not replace or reduce the number from the general field. If there were no charity spots, Boston would not increase their general field size. I learned this from one of the people who commented. My thought is this, if that is the case, why would it bother anyone if someone ran the Boston Marathon for charity? And maybe I stick my neck out on the line by saying this too... even if it does replace general field numbers, who cares? Now I realize that it's easy for me to say this as I have not qualified for Boston and have never applied and been shut out. My friend Jen has and I know it was very hard for her. Two years earlier and she would have been in. It seems very unfair and I sure as hell wouldn't have taken it well. I was offered a charity position through Livestrong by my friend Molly for the 2011 Boston Marathon and declined. Not because I thought running Boston for charity was wrong, but because I wanted to run it as a qualifier. That was a matter of what I wanted for myself.
People who get mad at those who run Boston for charity are assholes. I'm sorry if this puts any reader in that category, but come on. We have become a nation with such a sense of entitlement that we can't even see the good in those that have worked their ass off to raise money for a cause. No, we are angry because after all, we trained and busted our asses and someone took our spot. Well I loved my brother's comment on Marvin's status when he wrote "Marvin, enjoy every minute of Boston. More people have qualified for Boston than have lost 150 pounds!" AMEN! I can't even really shake the winter 5 lbs I put on. Forget 150! People have become so angry, so selfish that it kills them to step out of themselves when they feel slighted. I know some people who are the most dedicated, hard working, ass busting, committed runners that will never be fast enough to qualify for Boston. And I happen to know of someone who qualified for Boston in their very first marathon run. I commend the natural athlete in that person. To have raw talent like that is a gift and I would hope that he would see it that way. I've got news for some of the people who posted negatively on Marvin's status... yes, you may have run Boston 20 times, qualifying over and over again. And you may believe that you are something special for this reason. But lets bring perspective into this... your marathon time may be a really bad time for someone better than you. Your time may have a better runner very upset over their performance if that's what they got. But it is YOUR best time and in it's natural right, should be applauded and celebrated. Same goes for those slower than you.
I don't know how this spring is going to shake out. If I qualify for Boston and get shut out, without a doubt, I will be disappointed. But I can guarantee that I will not be bitter or angry toward those who do get to run. Maybe seeing this post was supposed to get me to think about this and how I would react, not just in this situation, but it my running life in general. I am currently nursing some kind of calf/shin/lower leg pain that has not allowed me to run since last Sunday when I ran with Will. I have continued "training" the best I can on my elliptical and thankfully can get my bike out this week as well. I know full well the reason I am hurt and it could have been prevented. And I spent a good part of week angry at myself for screwing up flawless and careful training with the decision to run 13 miles the day after a 22 mile run. After all, I did this last fall and never had a problem. The difference is that last fall the paces I ran these back to back long runs were slower and I was always careful the day after a very long run not to push the pace. I didn't know Will would run as well he did (I should say I didn't expect him to run as well as he did) and really did believe the pace would not be a problem. My anger about my decision to run his pace spilled over (of course!) to blaming John for my current problem, which he swore he knew was coming :) I told him that I WOULD have backed off if I thought he wouldn't be upset with me for not staying with Will during his first big race. Truth is, I needed somewhere to direct my anger about what has taken place because looking at myself in an honest light is really, REALLY hard. John took it in stride as he figured he'd be to blame somehow. It isn't hard to figure out why I'm hurt. But would I change what I did? Had I not run with Will, I would have missed seeing my son in a light I've never seen before. I would have missed seeing how he worked through some major difficult moments and conquered them. Those moments on that course provided a rare peak into the workings of a very private boy's mind. I would not go back and do anything different. Well ok, maybe I would have run my 22 miler on Friday like I was going to, but that is besides the point. This is part of being a runner and I have been fortunate enough to run without issues and reach a major goal of mine last year. We will see how the spring goes. I was only able to run a mile yesterday and it produced more pain than I would have liked, but there are many weeks left and I get better each day.
And finally, as John told me yesterday, there are many more marathons to run and to pick from.
So Marvin, enjoy Boston! By all rights, you "deserve" to be there by your incredible dedication and will power proven by your ability to lose that amount of weight and raise money for a good cause (at least I hope it's a good cause!). And if I am back on here in September angrily ranting about being shut out of Boston because of stupid charity runners, kindly remind me of what an asshole I am being.
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