Mad Marathon – Race Report

With the slogan, “The World’s Most Beautiful Marathon,” this inaugural race had a tremendous amount of expectation to meet. Run in the Mad River Valley of Central Vermont in the middle of summer, with the Green Mountains all around, gorgeous farmland, and wonderful old covered bridges, the beauty part was easy. It was the hills and heat that we had to worry about. Ben Franklin claimed “beauty and folly are old companions” and this race seemed to prove his point.

In training for this race, I didn’t take myself or my time as seriously as I did when I ran Charleston. I have my sub-4 and I wanted a fun marathon without all that worry about pace and numbers and times. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to run well so I made sure to incorporate hills in all my long runs but I also wanted to run a relaxed race so my goal was to run strong throughout and finish without a struggle. That sounds smart; so far, no folly.

But wait there’s more… The day before the race, I drove the course with my parents. They had driven it prior and Mom declared it “not that bad.” As we drove the country roads of Vermont, going up, going down over and over again, I found out that I have a different definition of “not that bad” than my mother. By the time we hit the second half of the course, I was announcing, “Yup, I’ll be walking this one. Oh, and this one. Walking again here.” This is why I never look at the course maps or profile charts or drive the course before the race, it only makesme nervous.

What have I gotten myself in to? Remember what old Ben said about beauty and folly?

Despite the increased levels of anxiety, driving the course actually proved to be beneficial. Right there in the car, I gave myself permission to walk parts of therace. I changed tactics and would approach the coming race like an ultra – Walk the uphills. Run the downhills and flats. I told myself to run strong but walk smart. I would run up the hills until my heart rate started to elevate and then I would break in to a power hike to the top.

Race morning was chilly and clear – perfect running weather – however, it was supposed to warm up quite a bit. The first mile of the course led us downhill and out of town, through a covered bridge on our way to Joplin Hill. The mile-andthensome-long climb to the top of Joplin Hill reduced nearly everyone to a walk but I was prepared and didn’t get discouraged. No, I never thought I’d be walking so early in a marathon but there was plenty of time to run later.

The remaining first half of the course, through mile 12 was on and off rolling, dirt and paved, roads with a few bigger hills that required walking and followed the same course (more or less) as the half marathon. At mile 12, we marathoners split off for a more challenging second half.

Also, just after Mile 12, my knees started to bother me. It was odd since I’ve never experienced knee pain in my training runs. I decided not to panic and see if the pain went away. It did, and I can’t even remember how long it lasted. It was the only point during the race that I started to worry so I am glad it went away as quickly as it came on.

Up to that point, I was alternating water and Gatorade at the aid stations. I grabbed a Gu (orange flavored – not that bad, surprisingly!) and sucked it down with a swallow of water at the next aid stations.

This second part of the course was almost solely on paved roads and had much less shade than the first half. Also, with the sun shining, the temperature had climbed in to the 70s. Running through sprinklers and grabbing two cups of water started to become a priority any time I hit an aid station. I focused on running strong and kept chugging along.

As I was running down a hill, just on the edge of control, thinking “well, this is steep” a spectator yelled out, “Welcome to the Dip!!” The infamous Dip. One-quarter mile up. One-quarter mile down. Steep and brutal. I made it through the Dip but wasn’t exactly looking forward to it on the way back.

Somewhere near mile 16, the course turns to make a long loop before heading back along the road we ran out on and then in to town for the finish. As I made that first turn, my stomach was feeling very full of liquids, which concerned me since the heat was increasing and I knew I needed to keep on top of my hydration. Just as I was shaking my head no to the offered water bottle, a woman offered me a watermelon slice – the most magical watermelon slice on the planet. “Oh, that looks good” I blurted out and the aid station workers had a giggle. Mmmm, watermelon. It was ice cold and tasty and exactly what I needed at that moment.

Reenergized by magical fruit, I took a couple deep breaths and realized that I was actually feeling good and had less than 10 miles left to run. We looped around and headed back to the finish, with only the Dip between me and the end (or so I thought).

The miles ticked off quickly and I kept to my plan – run the downhills and flats, run uphill until my heart rate jumps up and then powerhike to the top. Running along, checking off the miles, I felt like I was running in the zone. Sure, I was tired and hot and ready to be done running but “Run Strong” was my motto for the day and it kept me going.

“Three-fours of a mile to the Dip and then 3.5 miles to the finish once you get the top,” shouted a course marshal on a bike. That was all I needed to hear. I picked up the pace just a bit, told my legs and brain to just shut up and run to the Dip. One more walk and then I could cruise in to the finish (again…or so I thought).

Down the Dip I ran and up the Dip I hiked – breathing hard and anxious to see the top. The crowd support on the way up the Dip was great. Despite the fact that this race is mostly on backcountry roads, the support at the many, many aid stations and people at their houses along the way was phenomenal. Finally, at the top of the Dip, I ran through a sprinkler – oh, that’s cold and feels great. I also sucked down one of the gels I brought – Carboom Raspberry – in an effort to keep on top of my hydration/electrolytes. My stomach was still feeling pretty full but I was also feeling a touch hungry (an odd contradiction that could only happen in a marathon). I walked through the aid station at the top and then off I went with one goal in mind – finish.

Again, the miles ticked by quickly. Each time I saw an orange cone up ahead, I told myself not to get excited, that couldn’t possibly be another mile marker but each time it was, indeed, another mile down. I was getting closer and closer. We hit a long (it felt long anyway) downhill and I started looking for the last covered bridge that meant we were only a mile from the end. We rounded a turn and then there it was. I was tired but feeling better at mile 25 of this marathon than any of my other marathons.

Just as I was heading through the covered bridge, I heard a shout – “Becki! Becki! Oh, I’m sorry we missed you! Go Becki!” It was Mom. My parents had planned on meeting me at Mile 12 but had missed me by a few minutes. Mom ran with me until we got to one last hill up Main Street (darn, I forgot about this one, I thought I was done with the hills.) Off I went, power hiked up the hill, eager to get to the top and run it in to the finish.

I got to the top, started running and got one more “Go Becki” from Mom.

This was the only bad part of the course. Main Street had been opened back up and the runners had a small “shoulder” to run on but it was mostly broken asphalt and dirt. Finding a smooth path to run on was impossible until we were closer to the Waitsfield Village Green and the road opened up to runners only.

As I made the final few turns to finish on the green, I heard a “YAY! Go Becki!!” and there was Dad to cheer me in to the finish line. It was just to boost I needed to kick it in strong. I read 4:27 something on the clock and I was so excited that I beat my expectations. I ran strong the whole day, stuck to my plan and finished a great race feeling happy and proud!

The apple cider was delicious and the apple doughnuts would be a welcome treat later. Dad and I found a spot in the shade for me to take my shoes off (aaahhh), catch my breath and wait for Mom. I shared some French fries (tasted great but not a great idea for recovery) and started craving an iced coffee as soon as Dad told me they were being sold near-by (again, tasted great, hit the spot but it wasn’t a great idea to put more liquid in my belly).

This was definitely one of my best races and I am so proud to have finished the first Mad Marathon in such high spirits. “Strong” will be a key part of my racing strategy from now on.

I highly recommend this race – great organization and support, beautiful and challenging course and an accomplishment to be proud of at the end.

Charleston Marathon: Race Report

The title of this race report should be:  “Just Run” she says.  Or, why a 30 year old woman should still listen to her mother.

Marathon number six is in the books.  It will be known as the race of constant calculations.  Also, it felt like my strongest, and most smartly run, race. 

Going in the Saturday’s race I had plenty of self-doubt and I was just too much in my head about it.  Attempt a sub-four or not?  Am I ready?  Did I train enough?  Blah blah blah.  What good was all that second guessing going to do for me? 

On the drive to Charleston I spoke to my mom on the phone, who tells me, “I was yelling at you.  Well, not at you.  I was yelling at your blog.”  “Just run the race,” she went on to say, “who cares about all that other stuff.  I mean, just run.” 

To be honest, I was a little taken aback.  Those were my real feelings.  My real doubts.  My real fears.  And, here was someone telling me that they don’t matter.   But, of course, she was right.  You should always listen to your mother, why fight it?  All I needed to do was show up on race day and run.  And then, I started feeling a little silly about it all. 

“…you just have to start running and take it from there”  I decided to quit worrying about it and just show up on race day and run the race that was in me on that day.  Just run. 

I slept OK the night before the race.  I was getting up every 2 or 3 hours to use the bathroom because I was determined to be as hydrated as possible.  Also, I woke up at 5 and couldn’t get back to sleep even though I still had another 1.5 hours before I had to get ready.  I did manage to doze on and off and finally got up at 6:30. 

I made the decision to wear my running skirt instead of capri tights.  It was in the mid-30s that morning but it would be up in to the 50s about 2 hours after the race started.  I decided to sacrifice a little warmth at the beginning to ensure I didn’t overheat.  This was definitely the right decision.  I ate an orange and sipped a little more water before leaving the hotel for the starting line.  I had a few bites of a bagel and a banana on the car ride over, trying to strike that delicate balance between fueling and actually eating. 

Parking was easy and before too long, I was waiting at the start line with my fellow marathoners, both half and full.  The pacers for this race had balloons tied to them so they could easily be spotted and I planted myself a few yards behind the yellow 4:00 marathon pacer and in line with the two blue 2:00 half marathon pacers.  Well, this should be easy, just follow the balloons.

I ate a gel just before the race started and then suddenly I was running marathon #6.  As I learned from my last marathon, I needed to let everyone pass me for the first few miles so I settled in a comfortable pace and just let the rest of the runners sprint off.  I planned to let the first mile set the tone.  I ran comfortably and didn’t push the pace and hit the first mile marker 9:253.  Well, that didn’t feel too hard, I thought, what happens if I push just a little.    Without much more effort I ran mile 3 in 9:02.  That felt about right! 

The beginning of the race

  

The first few miles of the race were in downtown Charleston, which was very neat to run through.  There were plenty of spectators out braving the cold temps and it felt good to be cheered along as I found my rhythm.  However, by mile 4 we were heading out of downtown and I focused on my next milestone – gel #2 at mile 6.  I hit that water stop, sucked down the gel, gulped the water and was quickly on my way and on the look out for milestone #2 – my personal cheering squad at mile 9.5.  Each of these miles ticked by quickly with a short hill around mile 8, really the only notable incline of the race.  I was encouraged by the splits I was running:  all of them in the vicinity of 9:00 to 9:10 a mile.  Just where I wanted to be. 

I spotted my husband and friends at 9.5 and got some great energy from the as I ran by.  Wow, I’m 10 miles in to this race and feeling great.  Next up, I set my sights on gel #3 at mile 12. 

This would be the “longest” section of the race mentally as I wasn’t going to have my next milestone until I saw my cheering section again at Mile 21.  The course at this point twists and turns through North Charleston, which many runners don’t like but I found the route easy to follow and encouraging.  I was able to see parts of the course ahead of time and it was rewarding when I would reach them a short time later. 

The volunteers throughout this race were great but I think they were particularly so during these middle miles.  One of the things I loved about the race organization is that they printed our names on our bibs so it was cool to run up to a water stop and have the volunteer shout, “Way to Becki.  Looking strong.”  It seems like such a small thing to have the added bonus of your name thrown in to a shout of encouragement but it helps – big time. 

I was cruising along, hitting approximate 9:00 miles through about mile 15 and then I hit a very slight fade and slipped to 9:10 to 9:15 pace.  Absolutely no big deal but I had already begun the calculations. 

This whole time I had kept the blue 2:00 half marathon balloons within sight and only occasionally saw the yellow 4:00 marathon balloon.  I didn’t worry too much about that yellow balloon because the blues told me I was maintaining the right pace and I convinced myself that the yellow balloon had just gone out at too fast a pace.  The blue balloons peeled off at Mile 11 to finish their race and I ran for quite some time without seeming the yellow balloon.  I hit Mile 13 in 1:58 or so, which put me right at a 4 hour marathon without factoring in a fade and each mile after that I added up the time in my head, calculated the time left, just to reassure myself that my math was still right and 4 hours was still a possibility – yellow balloon or no yellow balloon. 

Although I had slowed just a hair, by Mile 17 I caught sight of that yellow balloon again.  It was getting closer.  Slowly and ever so slightly but it was definitely getting closer.  (You can see in my mile splits I actually picked up the pace back to sub 9:10 pace – wanting to catch that little yellow balloon put a fire in me early).  Just stay on it and slowly reel it in, I told myself, just be patient. 

With my eyes on that balloon, I ran toward my cheering section at mile 21.  This was my last milestone before the finish line.  My legs were starting to feel the miles but I was still feeling comfortable in my pace.  As I saw my cheering squad, I shouting, “I NEED to catch that STUPID yellow balloon!”  I didn’t realize how much that little balloon was impacting me until that shout came spitting out of my mouth.  A fellow runner laughed and shouted, “that’s right, go get ‘im!”  That was all I needed.  I grabbed the banana that my crew was holding out for me (per instructions – late race banana hand offs are essential) and took off. 

"I NEED to catch that STUPID yellow balloon"

The banana hand off just before I began to chase the balloon

I pushed.  The remaining 5 miles of the course was an out and back.  I just had to catch that balloon, make it to the turn around and hold on until the finish.  I pushed and pushed.  The yellow balloon got closer and closer.  And yet, the out portion of the course seemed to go on forever.  Also, I started noticing how many people were dressed in tights, long sleeve shirts, winter hats, etc.  It seemed that everyone had a shirt or jacket tied around their waist.  The temperature had gone from mid-30s in the morning to the 50s.  An overheated, death march on a lonely strip of road with little crowd support was not the ideal way to run the final miles of the race but I had dressed for this last section and didn’t feel the heat as much as some.  Just “follow the yellow balloon” I reminded myself. 

(However, my favorite part of the race happened on the way out:  there were several bands along the course and just before mile 22 there were two guys, one on a keyboard and the other with a mike.  As I ran by, I hear the guy sing, “hey there, runner girl in the purple shirt, I love you in your running skirt.”  I blew him a kiss.  He deserved it.)

Singing distractions aside, I was totally focused on catching the yellow balloon but I also had my eye out for the turn around.  Where was it?  Finally, I caught and passed the yellow balloon just as we made the turn around.  I just needed to hang on, not let that balloon pass me and finish this race. 

Oh, but my strength was very quickly draining away.  I was no longer focused on something tangible and the finish line seemed to never come.  I ran and ran and ran but it didn’t seem to do any good.  Just before mile 24 I heard two sets of feet coming up fast behind me and I prepared for the worst – seeing that little yellow balloon pass me and not being able to do a thing about it.  Luckily, it wasn’t the balloon so I let the two runners go.  Just hold steady, I told myself but I couldn’t help worrying that I had made my surge too early, that I wasn’t patient enough and I should have just stayed with the balloon until I got closer to the end rather than try to be a hero and bury it on the course behind me. 

Just run, I repeated over and over.  It is almost over.  You’ve got it.  Do the math.  I did the math.  I was cutting it close but under 4 hours was still possible.  Mile 25 – done.  One more mile marker to go. 

(To anyone else this race was not nearly as dramatic as it was in my head).

I saw my crew again before making the final turn and they were so excited.  “You did it.  You caught the balloon.  Yayayayay!”  But I didn’t feel excited.  I just wanted to be done.  Where’s the turn for the finish, I asked.  “Its just up there.  You’re so close.  You’ve got it.”  I didn’t feel like I had anything but I kept running.  Just run, I repeated, just finish this thing.

 

I did not feel as happy I look in this picture taken just before Mile 26 (Note the tiny yellow balloon in the background)

Mile marker 26 finally came and my watch read 3:58.  I had 2 minutes to run .2 miles and finish under 4 hours.  More math.  It’s possible.  I can do it.  Just keeping running.  I made the last turn and finally saw the finish line.  As I got closer, I saw the clock and it read 3:59:something so I started sprinting.  I didn’t want to just run a 4 hour marathon according to my chip time, dammit if I was going to do it, I wanted that clock to read 3-something.  I surprised myself with an awesome finishing kick. 

I sprinted past the spectators lining the last few yards and they erupted in shouts and cheers.  I was the only runner crossing the finish line and the announcer started shouting, “And she’s going to make it under four hours.  She’s sprinting it in under four hours.  Becki has finished the Charleston Marathon in under four hours.  Way to go Becki!”

The triumphant finish

Best.  Finish.  Ever.  I felt like I had won the race.  I can’t imagine that the actual winners got any better a reception as they crossed the line. 

I crossed the finish line at 3:59:33 with a chip time of 3:59:06. 

Tired.  A little nauseous from sprinting.  Satisfied.  That is how I felt as I accepted my race medal and met up with my cheering squad. 

Me and the best support crew ever (minus my favorite supporter who is taking this picture)

The smell of the free shrimp and grits was very unappealing but I happily accepted the free Fat Tire beer at the finish festival.  I also bought a hot dog and some cookies from the food truck and gobbled them down.  Great, unhealthy but totally yummy, way to celebrate a great race and my first “3:something” marathon finish. 

   

Pros:

• Charleston is a great place to visit and the city came out to support the race festival
• The marathon was part of a whole race festival so there were distances for everyone to run – youth marathon, 5K, 10K, Half Marathon, Full Marathon and even a Bike Ride the following day.
• Even though this was the first year for the marathon, the organization was excellent
• Volunteers and water stops were run well
• Chip was attached to the back of the race bib so no need to untie shoes or return chips at the end of the race.
• Free beer is always a good thing

Cons:

• The course was supposed to have water stops with GU during the last miles – either it was gone by the time I came through or I missed it (or it was never there)
• The final 5 miles out-and-back was confusing since we were never sure which side to run on
• I hate when races take you right by the finish line in the late miles of a race – it is a special kind of torture to tempt us with stopping when we have another 5 miles to go (and many people are hitting the wall)
• The only free food at the end of the race was shrimp and grits.  Other runners seemed to be enjoying it.  I wanted something else.

Miles Splits:

Miles 1 and 2 – 18:50 (I remember my watch read 9:23 at the first mile marker but I forgot to hit the lap button)

Mile 3 – 9:02

Mile 4 – 9:23

Mile 5 – 8:53

Mile 6 – 9:10

Mile 7 – 8:58

Mile 8 – 9:00

Mile 9 – 8:59

Mile 10 – 9:04

Mile 11 – 9:00

Mile 12 – 9:08

Mile 13 – 9:04

Mile 14 – 9:00

Mile 15 – 9:13 (started to fade a bit)

Mile 16 – 9:12

Mile 17 – 9:13

Mile 18 – 9:09

Mile 19 – 9:12

Mile 20 – 9:08

Mile 21 and 22 – 17:54 (average 8:57, the great yellow balloon chase began)

Mile 23 – 8:58

Mile 24 – 8:55

Mile 25 – 9:22 (balloon motivation starting to fade)

Mile 26 – 9:17

Last .2 – 1:48

Finish Time:  3:59:06

Doubt

I had an interesting email exchange with a friend yesterday where she expressed doubt in her ability to train properly for an upcoming event.  My advice to her was to “go for it” but then I started thinking about how much I doubted my own running abilities going in to Saturday’s marathon.   I started to feel a bit like a hypocrite.  It is easy to tell someone else that their doubts are unfounded but something else entirely when you have to deal with your own.

My training did not go as well as planned.  I wasn’t able to get in as much mileage as I wanted because of life, my own training mistakes and sickness.  I scrapped all the of speedwork in the last 6 weeks of training because it wasn’t working for me – not hitting the pace I thought I should be hitting was taking too much of a toll on my confidence so I chose to keep running rather than keep quitting when things didn’t go the way I wanted them to go.  I don’t feel like I am ready to run a marathon.

Is it smart for me to back off my marathon goals for the reasons listed above or am I just making excuses so I don’t have to try and fail? 

I don’t know. 

I’ve talked myself in to being open to the possibility of just running for “fun” on Saturday without concern for a time goal but what if I am missing out on an opportunity to really test myself?  I ran lots of long miles.  I even ran a 22 miler in an even, faster than normal long run, pace and felt great the rest of the day.  I did do 6 weeks of speedwork in the beginning of this training cycle and ran a 10K PR as a result.  Perhaps feeling “ready” for a marathon is overrated?  I certainly have felt “ready” for any of my past marathons.

The best I can do is show up and give it my best for the day and maybe, resigning myself to “running for fun” is really giving it my best? 

David Fleming, a writer at ESPN wrote an article about his experience with his first (and last) marathon.  The following words stuck with me:

“The reason we all hate -- and love -- running so much is that it's very much like life itself: It changes drastically and frequently and often without warning.

And you never know, from one day to the next, if you're going to have a great run or a horrible one -- you just have to start running and take it from there.”

Charleston Marathon Start Line:  Here I Come.

Daily Dozen:
3 miles, nice and slow this morning

Bob Potts Heritage Rail Trail Marathon – Race Report

Success!!

I don’t intend on burying the lead here; I ran a marathon – all 26.2 miles of it – in 4 hours 7 minutes 42 seconds! I am so proud of my time and my race yesterday. I ran the race my own way without getting caught up in the pace of the runners passing me during the early miles. I ran strong the entire way and I finished well (my legs were hurting and I didn’t have much of a finishing kick so I’m not saying I finished strong but it wasn’t the struggle I experienced in Vermont or Marine Corp and most certainly would have experienced in Nashville had I been allowed to complete the distance).

Although I didn’t sleep well the night before (I am blaming the iced coffee drink I had around noon but everyone else seems to think it was just “nerves”) I was able to wake up quickly. I think I went to the bathroom about a dozen times in the span of 45 minutes but I had to diligent with my hydration. I was feeling good as we left the hotel for the short trip to the other side of the town of York and the York College track – Grumbacher Center.

We were quickly able to find parking and I immediately got in line for the port-o-potties. I made it through the line with about 10 minutes left before race start time and as Mike and I walked to the start line, he asked me, “Well, how to do you feel?” I had told him earlier in the week (and then later in the week and on the drive up to York and a few more times that Saturday and then also before going to bed…). I answered honestly, “I’m not sure. It has really hit me that I’m running a marathon today.”

A quick kiss and that’s how I left it as I lined up toward the back of the small pack of runners.

The Bob Potts Heritage Rail Trail Marathon is only in its second year but it is a great race. The race is run in honor of Bob Potts, one of the first members of the York Road Runners, who passed away 4 years ago. His son organized this annual event to honor his father’s passion for running and to raise funds for a scholarship for two area high school cross country runners. With a field capped at 400 runners (333 runners crossed the finish line), this is a small race for sure but it is perfect for me.

The course is mostly run on the Heritage Rail Trail, a crushed gravel, flat as flat can be (I was told there was net uphill going out and net downhill coming back but I certainly couldn’t tell) trail starting in York, Pennsylvania. The organization of this small race is top-notch – packet pickup was a breeze, the start was easy and no-fuss, and the volunteers and water stops along the course were supportive and enthusiastic. The finish in the stadium at York College was a lot of fun and made it very easy for me to find my friends and family at the end.

The race director yelled “On your mark, get set, GO!” and suddenly I was running my fifth marathon. The first mile is run on the streets before hooking up with the rail trail and I’ll be honest, I wasn’t feeling great about the run. My legs didn’t feel particularly fresh and my spirits were a little low. As we made our way through the first few miles I repeatedly reminded myself, “Run your race.” I had to forget all those runners whizzing past me and keep an eye on my pace. As long as I was hitting my goal (9:30 pace overall), then I didn’t care who passed me.

It wasn’t easy, especially letting the lady dressed as a pink butterfly pass me and being ok with losing sight of her all together. “It’s OK. Just let them go. Your time is what is important; not their times.” I checked my watch at each mile marker waiting for it to be below 9:30 to give me an excuse to catch up to all those people running by me. However, that moment never came and by mile 4 or 5, I settled in for the long haul.

I saw Mike just before mile 10 and waved off the visor (in case the clouds opened up and it started to rain) and the banana. “Banana at Mile 17,” I shouted as I ran by. One of the great things about this out-and-back course is that he picked a spot and stayed there, seeing me twice.

I was feeling much better by this point and decided to allow myself to pick it up just a bit on the way to the turn around spot (which was beyond the 13.1 halfway mark). After hitting the turn around spot, I told myself that no one would pass me from that point on. I ran a consistent pace and everyone else was slowing down. I was able to pick people off easily – run an even pace, catch up to the runner in front of me, pass and pick the next one. A race experience like this has truly proven to me that the discipline to not go out to fast pays off big time!

Over the next 13 miles, I had 2 men pass me and 1 woman. Although I didn’t keep a count of the people I passed, I would estimate that it was 2 to 3 each mile so I would have to guess that I passed between 25 and 40 people. Passing so many people and doing so without struggling was an amazing feeling. Amazing what an evenly paced race will do for your racing confidence.

At Mile 15, I sucked do the Strawberry Gu I had gotten at Mile 13 and at Mile 17 I picked up the banana from Mike.

Banana handoffs are very important to my marathon success!

However, I held on to the banana until Mile 22 in order to (hopefully) give me a pick-me-up just when I would usually start to fade. Whether it was the banana or the even pacing or the gel or the higher mileage or some combination of all of the above (most likely answer), something went very right for me in this race.

By Mile 20 I was definitely feeling my legs but I was keeping my pace (and passing plenty of people) without any added effort. It wasn’t until Mile 24 that I was kinda wishing the marathon was over. My hamstrings were feeling tighter and tighter and I knew I didn’t have much left in me. I kept telling myself, “Only twenty more minutes running. That’s it. That’s nothing. You do that everyday and today is no different.”

I kept going and when I saw the mile marker for 25 I was very happy, only one more to go. However, that elation was short-lived because my watch read 9:55. For a few seconds, I was too shocked to react. My legs were still moving and I was still breathing but time stopped for a moment. Then, I got a little angry with myself. I didn’t run that far (25 freakin’ miles) to run my only 10+ minute mile of the day on the last mile of the marathon. “No way” and so I ran faster. It hurt (not in a sharp pain sort of way but definitely in the, my muscles have been whacked with a hammer and I should definitely give them a break, kind of way). I wanted to stop but I was too stubborn to give in. I had worked too hard to maintain a consistent pace and pass all those runners just to get passed back so close to the finish. The only option was to run and give it my all.

As I passed the 26 mile marker my watch read 9:34. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

I had been aiming for a 4:10 for the day; a PR of over 9 minutes. It was a time I knew I had in me but honestly, wasn’t one that would be easy for me to achieve. When I saw 9:34 on my watch at that last mile marker I knew I would go get a 4:10 and if I could just maintain my pace for the next two tenths of a mile I might even get a sub 4:08. Again, the only thing to do was run. Trudge is probably a better description of the form of movement I used to make it up the “hill” (one those inclines in the road that probably isn’t truly considered a hill but at mile 26 of a marathon, it was a beast) and in to the stadium.

I entered the stadium tired and exhausted and ready to stop running but I had to make to the opposite side of the track (and let me tell you running on a bouncy track feels like walking on the moon – in a bad way – after 25 miles on a gravel trail) and the best way to do that was to run. As I rounded the track, I knew there was no way I would be catching the guy in front of me and so I didn’t even try. I did make an effort to dig deep and find a finishing kick but I didn’t come up with much of one. Anyway, I rounded the track and I saw an amazing site…4:07. That was the number on the clock. I had done it!

All the doubt and anxiety that had been bubbling in my since Nashville simple disappeared without a trace. I haven’t spent a single though second guessing myself or my training. It was the most perfect race I could have run on that day and I simply cannot ask any more of myself.

1 9:40
2 9:13
3 9:23
4 9:26
5 9:35
6 9:26
7 9:29
8 9:25
9 9:39
10 9:19
11 9:24
12 9:16
13 9:14
14 9:12
15 9:21
16 9:24
17 9:21
18 9:18
19 9:29
20 9:28
21 9:24
22 9:20
23 9:29
24 9:31
25 9:55
26 9:34
26.2 2:15

Pros
Small race with a hometown feel
Enthusiastic organization, volunteers and water stops
Flat, soft surface…flat

Cons
I really can’t complain but if you twist my arm I’d have to say that an x-small t-shirt would have been nice

At the finish with the Giant Red Cow

What is up with that?

I’m anxious about Sunday’s marathon.

I keep trying to convince myself to be confident about the race. Nashille’s 22.2 miler was a great “last” long run. I have the distance in my legs and I’ve been resting well so I am primed for a great race. I tell myself that over and over.

Still, I’ve got butterflies in my stomach when I think about running another marathon so soon after the aborted Nashville race. I’m not truly recovered from a 22 miler AT race pace (the longest I’ve seen in other plans in maybe 16 miles within a 20 miler). It’s been too long since I was able to run consistently (early April before I started the taper for Nashville) and not counting Nashville I haven’t run more than 8 miles since early April. I haven’t been eating or sleeping well (5 lb. gain since Nashville). Last week was a good week of running and I felt like my old self but this week has just been…strange, for lack of a better term.

Sunday, Monday and Tuesday I went out for a shorter “long” run and two easy runs in the 3 to 4 mile range, respectively. Although I was aiming for an easy, slow pace and I tried to hold my pace at a slow pace, each run was at a 10 minute average pace. That’s way faster than I was running easy runs before (10:30 to 11:00 minute pace).

Wednesday and Thursday I skipped running and allow myself to sleep in (9.5 hours of sleep both nights – fantastic!).

Today, Friday, I went out for super slow, super easy 3 miler just to shake out my legs and get them primed for Sunday. “Ugh” is the only appropriate word to describe how I feel during this run. I felt like I was running through knee-deep quicksand and yet, everytime my Garmin beeped off a mile, my pace was in the 10:00 to 10:15 range. In fact, I ended with an average pace of 10:06. What is up with that? I really was telling myself to slow down and take it easy. I thought I was.

On top of that, as I was walking back to the house I realized that I felt better after that dreadful run than I did the last few days with no run and tons of sleep. Seriously, what is up with that?

I’m really not sure how to feel about Sunday’s 26.2 miles. I hate going in to a race without confidence but I am really confused!

Daily Dozen:
3.32 miles run in early morning
XT (walking on treadmill and stretching) @ lunch hour

Country Music Marathon - Race Report

How did the marathon in Nashville go? My official finisher’s certificate about sums it up.

When I left the previous weekend for our road trip to Tennessee, the weather for the marathon was supposed to be rainy with a high of 71 – cooler and cloudier than it was supposed to be the few days before Saturday’s race. However, by the time we made it to Nashville the forecast was looking much bleaker – rain…wind…hail!...tornado!!

I tried to remain positive about the weather. Really, how often is it as bad as the weatherman says? The race organizers had sent out on email on Friday saying that as long as the full marathoners were on pace to run a 4:30 or better time at the 11 mile mark we would be able to finish the race and not be diverted to the half marathon finish. Not a problem!

However, I had trouble sleeping the night before the race. I feel asleep quickly around 9 o’clock but I don’t think my mind ever shut itself off but I woke up at 2 and didn’t fall back asleep until 4. I kept worrying about the weather and questioning myself – what if I was having a bad day and fell off my pace early? what will I tell people? what if they cancel the race altogether? Not the thoughts I needed running through my head only a few hours before running a marathon.

I woke up at 5 to my alarm and I got dressed I was sleepy but I knew I had to shake it off – shake off last night’s frustrations and anxiety, shake off fretting about my pace. I stepped outside on the porch of the B&B we were staying in to eat my bagel and banana and was encouraged. The sun was coming up. It wasn’t raining. There was just a slight breeze. Maybe today wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

At 6 I headed out for the race start line, about 2 miles from where we were staying. I walked and jogged my way to Centennial Park feeling very confident about the next few hours. I wondered about the starting area for a bit and didn’t pay much attention to the race announcers since there were still 30 minutes until the start. I probably should have been paying more attention because it turns out they decided to start the race 15 minutes early so by the time I realized what was going on I had to push way through a crowd of runners to even get close to the pace group I was aiming for.

Before I knew it…and without really realizing what was going on…suddenly I was across the start line and running my fourth marathon. Running the first mile or so toward downtown Nashville in a massive sea of runners (going downhill) was awesome. Even though there were 35,000 runners, the streets and waterstops I never felt like I didn’t have enough room to run. For once, it seemed, a race had gotten the corral/wave start right (this has not been my experience with the local DC mega-races).

A bit about my strategy: nine minutes thirty seconds. That is the number I wanted to see each time I hit the lap button on my watch when I hit the mile markers – 9:30. I wanted 9:30s through Mile 20 and at that point I would assess where I was at and speed up if I could or continue to focus on hitting 9:30s.

As I ran along with the huge crowd, I was able to dial in to my pace quickly and stay there (within reason – I’m still not very good at knowing my pace by feel). The first 11 miles of the race went well – plenty of crowd support, saw my super spectator (husband, Mike) at Miles 5 and 8 and got a boost of energy seeing him. At Mile 11, the half marathon course split off and the few marathon runners (4000 compared to the over 30,000 running the half). I actually didn’t mind the lack of crowd support but the course itself was pretty lacking – they loop us through some business parks, etc.

Also, this was about the time that the clouds started filling up the sky. I was hoping that I would beat the rain but as I ran along it looked less and less likely.

I was still feeling good – some tightness in the hamstrings, my legs were starting to get tired and I was regretting the decision not to get new shoes about a month ago but all in all I was very positive about the race. I hit Mile 17 and my legs rapidly started feeling heavier and heavier. I was trudging up a hill and I made the decision to power walk to the top. I have never, NEVER, been forced to walk in a race. It was demoralizing. To make matters worse, I hit another bit hill at Mile 18 and it take even less time to talk myself in to walking to the top. Giving up was so easy at that point.

I started questioning everything. Making up my own running schedule was a bad idea. Just Run – that’s so stupid. Why didn’t I do specific marathon pace runs? I should have been more consistent during the crappy winter weather. I shouldn’t have cut down my taper to two weeks, I’ve tried that before and it doesn’t work for me. I should know better. I’m not the marathon running type. Why am I doing this? This sucks.

That was the lowest I’ve ever been with my running. However, I made it to the top of the hill and told myself that I had to take it one mile at a time. Just get to the next water stop and take it from there. Surprisingly, things did get a little better. My hamstrings were still screaming and my legs still felt like bricks but my mind wasn’t beating me up any more. I made it to Mile 20 at 3 hours 14 minutes. If I could do the next 6.2 miles in one hour, I could still PR. So that is what I set out to do – push for the next hour at 10 minute pace. I could do it. There were no more hills. I just knew I could do it.

And then I turned the corner and saw two things: the mile marker for 21 and police cars, police barricades and a policeman with a bullhorn. “Runners turn right and head toward the stadium. Severe weather is imminent. Runners divert to the stadium. Sever weather is imminent.” My heart dropped. I was on pace why are they diverting us. I forgot all about my tired legs and screaming hamstrings. The pain just melted away and was replaced with…

I’m not sure what it was I was feeling. Anger? No, not really. Frustration? Definitely but it was different too. Grief? Ok, that sounds a little dramatic but yes, kinda. Disappointment? Yup, in myself, in the race, in the weather.

I couldn’t believe my luck. The police car and barricades were being put in place just as I came around the corner. If I had been just 5 minutes faster, I would have been able to finish it. I was upset when I realized that I could have prevented being diverted from the course. If only I was a faster…by which I really meant “better”…runner. Several runners were jumping the barricades and running around the police cruisers, totally ignoring the instructions to divert and not finish. I slowed down to contemplate what course of action would I take – screw it, I’m a runner, I finish races that I start, weather and police be damned or better safe than sorry and live to run another day.

I made that turn and ran back to the stadium in a clump of 10 or so other quasi-marathoners. I just couldn’t bring myself to defy authority (not to say that is a bad thing – there was some pretty severe lightening going on in the distance and the Country Music Marathon is not worth dying over). Anyway, we headed back to the stadium, dodging pedestrians, runners who had finished their race (mostly half marathoners) and traffic. We jumped the barrier near the 26 mile mark and ran across the finish line.

The clock read 3:42 and to everyone watching, we looked legitimate. I felt sick to my stomach. I wasn’t legitimate and I knew it. I felt like I had tricked somebody, gotten away with it and felt guilty. I grabbed water, a space blanket and a medal and went to find my husband. He was shocked to see me so early and thought I must have had an amazing race. I had to confess (and that is what it felt like, a confession) that I didn’t run the whole race, that they had diverted the course and didn’t allow me to finish.

As we walked back to the car, I skipped the food and other finish line amenities because I didn’t feel like I deserved them, I started to get angry. I was angry with myself and with the weather and with the race organizers. I mumbled and cursed (sometimes loudly, sometimes under my breath) and I wanted to shout. I was mad at myself for crossing the finish line. I was mad at myself for taking a medal I didn’t feel like I deserved. The other runners would had cross the finish line around me ran the whole thing and I did not belong there at that time.

By the time we made it back to the bed and breakfast, I was a little calmer about it and had started to come to terms with not being allowed to finish. It was raining so hard outside and there was lightening, I know it was the right decision on everyone’s part. However, it then became apparent after the results there were half marathon runners…lots and lots of half marathon runners…finishing well after I would have come across the line. I understand they need to get people off the streets and that the police and EMTs had much better places to be than watching me run by but it still irks me that I could have finished in the time they held the course open for the half marathoners.

Breath. Calming down. (As you can see, it still stings a little).

So I didn’t get to finish the marathon. I have NOT run four marathons (no matter what everyone says…it is a fact) but I am OK with it. I have been recovering nicely this week and am seriously contemplating another attempt in a few weeks. I really want to see what I can do on the training I’ve done.

I did so many things wrong before this marathon (no running but lots of strenuous hiking the week before, not eating well the week before, very little runs at marathon pace, not pacing correctly on the hills, etc.) that I need to give myself a fair shot at a PR this spring.

Mile 1 9:39
Mile 2 9:25
Mile 3 9:29
Mile 4 9:44
Mile 5 9:46
Mile 6 9:19 – Energy boost after spotting my spectator
Mile 7 9:49
Mile 8 & 9 18:51
Mile 10 & 11 18:23
Mile 12 9:10
Mile 13 9:24
Mile 14 9:24
Mile 15 9:41
Mile 16 9:41
Mile 17 9:42
Mile 18 10:55 – Uh oh, had to walk up a hill, hamstrings feeling very tight
Mile 19 11:10 – Not good, had to walk up another hill, but decide to rally
Mile 20 10:26 – That’s getting better, feeling a little better
Mile 21 through finish about 22.2 18:22

Pros

-Nashville is a fun city, absolutely worth the visit
-Excellent support on the first half of the course
-Race Organizers have made up for having to divert the course – apologies, coupons to other events

Cons
-Second half lonely compared to the first half (for some this could be a pro)
-Race Organizers weren’t very good at communicating the changes to the start time and what to do once they diverted the course – was I supposed to cross the finish line?
-Expensive
-Goodie bag was just leaflets and ads (sign of the times more so than the race most likely)

Peer Pressure

This coming Saturday, two friends of mine will be toeing the line for their first marathon. They have been training the past 6 months with Team in Training (TNT) for the Mayor’s Marathon in Anchorage, AK (and raised money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society along the way).

It has been so much fun to watch them go through the training process and I can’t help but feel a tremendous amount of pride at the progress they’ve made. Six months ago neither one would have dreamed of running a marathon and now here they are, running their first marathon, talking about running other races, including triathlons. It has been rewarding for me to be a part of this process even if it was just as a cheerleader.

I will also admit to a fair amount of both jealousy and nostalgia at running a marathon for the first times. I’ve already had my experience facing the unknown and made it out the other side a better person. That is where they are; poised to make a leap off a big cliff, hoping to land safely at a bottom they can’t even fathom. It is an experience like no other.

This past Monday evening I spent time with them as they decorated their TNT race singlets with their names and messages to those special people for whom they were dedicating the race. They were anxious and nervous and full of questions. However, they were also full of enthusiasm but not just for the race ahead of them.

Their enthusiasm for their own abilities was, in a word, infectious. High on the idea that they are capable of accomplishing so much more than they had previously dreamed, they have decided their next goal will be a sprint triathlon. Normally, this would be a wonderful goal to shoot for but they’ve gotten it in their heads that they’ll do it only a month after their marathon!

They poked and prodded (although I will admit they didn’t have to poke or prod nearly as hard as they should’ve had to) and eventually I caved. That’s right; I may have agreed to try a sprint triathlon in only a month’s time. Eek! I did agree on the condition that one of them teach me to swim (she’s was a swimmer in high school and college and continues to swim for exercise).

I totally caved! Who in their right mind who go in to a triathlon completely untrained…not even under-trained but UNtrained? Someone who bows to the intense enthusiasm (read: peer pressure) of her friends, that’s who.

(The good news: I looked up the tri they wanted to do at the end of July and it looks like registration is full….saved by online registration, whew!)

Daily Dozen:
Slept in – today is a recovery day! Yay!

Keybank Vermont City Marathon, Burlington, VT - Race Report

I was surprisingly relaxed going in to this marathon. I have had a tremendous amount on my mind between buying a house and worrying about work stuff that I wasn’t able to focus solely on training for and running the marathon. In addition, I was plagued by minor, irritating pains that I didn’t want to turn in to major injury so I knew I was lining up for the race under trained. I was initially thinking this would be to my disadvantage; however, I think in some aspects it helped me stay relaxed.

Marathon morning started early with my alarm going off at 5 am. I slept well the night before and felt only slightly groggy as I rolled out of bed. I had laid out everything I would need for the day’s race – clothes, bib, food, etc. and all I had to do was scoop up the pile, put it all on and I was ready to run. Well, almost ready to run, I sipped water and ate oatmeal and a banana for breakfast.

As I was getting ready, the rest of the house started to come to life and by 6 we were out the door, crammed in the car and ready to make the one hour drive to Burlington. Due to parking concerns, we were aiming to get to the race an hour before the start. After parking, walking to the start area, finding a bathroom (no wait, we were lucky), and eating a last minute orange, I calmly waited for the announcer to ask all the runners to line up. We chatted and checked other (more adventurously dressed) runners – Tony the Tiger, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and Sean the walking classified ad.

Finally, the time had come to line up and I got in a last round of hugs and good luck wishes and I took up a position slightly back from the 4:30 pacer. My previous marathon PR was 4:35 and I was aiming for 4:20 or better for this race. My plan was to run just behind or with the 4:30 group for the first 5 miles, then get past them and stay ahead of them for the rest of the race, keeping my pace under 10:00 per mile.

Without corrals, the starting line was crowded and somewhat confused but we all managed to get in line without too much difficulty. In the starting line for my first marathon I had no idea what to expect, no idea what it was I had gotten myself in to but I was excited to be there among the crowd of runners. I was distinctly more nervous during the lineup for my second marathon. No one was there with me at the start line and I felt lost in the huge crowd of runners. This time, my third time, I was far more calm. Is this what comes with experience? I knew I could complete the distance and I knew no matter what I would be proud of the accomplishment.

Then, a feeling of doubt hit me. It wasn’t doubt that I would run the marathon that morning but doubt that marathon running was really something I wanted to keep doing. Why wasn’t I nervous with excitement? Why wasn’t I doing the pre-marathon lineup jig – nervous bouncing, stretching, swaying, chatting – like everyone else who was lined up with me? Had I lost the marathon mojo and wonder this quickly?

I was sad but that is no way to start a marathon so I told myself to focus on the mission I had laid out before me and figure out the rest of these feelings later.

Then the gun went off and the crowd of runners surged forward. I crossed the start line about 2 minutes after the gun, started my watch and just like that I was running my third marathon.

The Vermont City Marathon is set up as a series of out-and-backs so I was able to see my family at the start line, around Miles 3, 9 and 15, as well as the finish line. It had been drizzling all morning and by the time I saw my family around Mile 3 along Church Street, the rain had become steady. I enjoy running in the rain and this morning was no exception, especially since it made the mid-60s temperature seem much cooler.

The first out-and-back was along a highway with not much in the way of scenery. I felt great during these miles with all of my splits coming in under the 10:00 mark. I had lost the 4:30 pacer in the shuffle of the beginning and my slow first mile but I finally caught up to the 4:30 group just after mile 6 and scooted past. By Mile 9, I was rounding the corner back on to Church Street, ready to wave to the family and ended up giving a jumping high-five to my brother. It felt great seeing them cheering for me. It is overwhelming to have people there in the crowd to support you. I was on cloud-nine. Nothing could stop me.

The second out-and-back took us south to a park and the halfway mark before circling back. This section of the course was uneventful and running felt good. I got to the halfway point and thought about how 13 more miles wasn’t going to be a problem. The rain had stopped by this point but the day was still overcast. It was great running weather. Just before Mile 15, as I swooped back in to the center of Burlington and as I was about to face the Assault on Battery, a 6 block uphill climb, I heard someone shout my name. There they were again, my family cheering me on just when I needed them. As I passed, I heard my mom shout “You’re looking good” and then saying “she really is looking good” to my Dad (I am assuming). I felt good, I was looking good…bring on Battery.

I love hills. My running thrives on getting out of breath on the uphill and fighting to get it back once reaching the top. The race organizers position a group of drummers at the bottom of the hill to drum us up to the top. It was a lot of fun to get their support and so much crowd support but for me it was unneeded. Battery Street was mine. I chewed it up and spit it out. I conquered it!

After a quick jaunt through the park where we started the race, I was ready for the third and final out-and-back. This was to be the longest section – 5 miles out, weaving through neighborhoods and along a road with traffic followed by the final 5 miles along a narrow bike path along Lake Champlain. I actually enjoyed the courses side trips in to the neighborhoods because it was so encouraging to see the people out on their lawns cheering for us, setting up water stations, offering oranges and other goodies. The community truly supports the race and its runners.

By Mile 18, I was back out on the highway and the sun was coming out. It was clearing up (and I was drying out) to be a beautiful day. Despite the sun and accompanying heat, the race conditions weren’t too bad. However, I was starting to fade. The sun did nothing to reenergize me. Up to Mile 20, I had been having a fairly easy go of it. I didn’t feel like I was pushing my pace too hard and I felt very comfortable. There was no real effort on my part to hit mile splits between 9:30 and 10:00. After Mile 20, hitting 10:00 became increasingly more difficult. My hamstrings began to hurt and my calves started to cramp; however, I was able to run through the pain and kept going, telling myself just to get to the next mile marker, get to the next aid station.

From Mile 24 onward, I was involved in a mental struggle against my legs. My body was tired and my legs hurt, all I wanted to do was make it go away; however, I knew if I walked not only would I be disappointed but it would mean being out on the course much, much longer. I just wanted to be done running, please and thank you.

“This is nothing.” “This isn’t real pain. It will not defeat me.” “You can do it. Don’t quit. Just keep running.” I started repeating these motivational snippets to myself and even started mumbling to myself. This is the first time I’ve truly (and literally) had to talk myself in to finishing a race. The desire to walk was so strong but each time I hit a mile marker and saw how close I was to staying on pace (10:10 was my slowest mile split, not counting the first mile) I knew I had to keep running. I promised myself that if I started doing the zombie runner shuffle, if my pace fell way below that I could walk but my splits stayed close to the 10:00 mark.

Finally, I heard the crowd. Finally, I saw the crowd. Finally, I saw the 26 mile marker. Only .2 miles left to go. I saw my Mom cheering me on and telling me that my husband and little brother were just ahead, I knew I had to keep running. I saw them and I kept going. At the final turn, I saw my Dad (nice high-five) and I was almost there. I was almost done but by this point, I was almost in tears. I was so close to the finish line but I was still running. It felt unfair. I just wanted to stop.

Despite my negative thoughts and the pain, I turned on a finishing kick, passed three runners (and got passed one) and finally I had finished my third marathon. My legs were on fire, my quads and calves were burning and my hamstrings were achy, and I was just plain exhausted but I did it! I crossed the line in 4:19:09, smashing my PR by 15 minutes and beating my race goal by one minute. Despite all the pain and soreness, despite my exhaustion I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

All my doubts about running marathons were long gone.

I caught up my family, grabbed some food (great selection – Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream!) and hobbled back to the car, proud of myself and the day’s accomplishments.

Next up: how close can I get to the 4 hour mark? Find out next time!

Mile Splits:
Mile 1 : 11:30 (No idea why I started that slow)
Mile 2 : 9:53
Mile 3&4 : 19:32
Mile 5 : 9:33
Mile 6 : 9:49
Mile 7 : 9:33
Mile 8 : 9:52
Mile 9 : 9:33
Mile 10 : 9:25
Mile 11 : 9:50
Mile 12 : 9:55
Mile 13 : 9:35
First Half Split – 2:09
Mile 14 : 9:42
Mile 15&16 : 19:43
Mile 17 : 9:48
Mile 18 : 9:41
Mile 19 : 9:49
Mile 20 : 9:42
Mile 21 : 10:08
Mile 22 : 10:06
Mile 23 : 10:09
Mile 24 : 9:52
Mile 25 : 10:10
Mile 26 : 10:10
Final .2 : 1:57
Finish : 4:19:09

Lessons Learned
1. Burlington, VT knows how to put on a great marathon event.
2. I’m getting better at even pacing but I’m not quite there yet.
3. Stick to the plan. I had planned out when I would eat my gels and Fig Newtons but I didn’t follow through on it. I think it would have helped alleviate the calf cramps if I had.
4. I love running…especially marathons.

Why this one feels different

I remember the week before my first marathon, I was nervous but exhilarated. The reasons for being nervous are obvious - 26.2 miles is a long freakin' way to run and I had never, ever done anything like it before. My first marathon was also my first race. I wasn't sure what to do or what to expect at the start, whiling I was running or through the finish line.

I also remember being exhilarated by the anticipation of finally achieving something I had set out to do 6 months prior. Training for my first marathon was a watershed moment for me because I proved to myself that I could accomplish something that had once seemed so unlikely. I was tired from the training, getting up early in the morning, putting in 5 to 10 miles before going to work. Yet, I remember feeling very strong during the taper like all those lower mileage days during the taper were easy strolls in the park compared to the higher mileage I had been putting in.

The week prior to my first marathon, over two years ago, was a good week.

This week, the week before marathon number 3, feels different. I don't feel particularly strong. I don't feel particularly ready. I don't feel any different today than I would if I had a 10 mile run planned for this coming week instead of a marathon. To be honest, I'm disappointed that I can't seem to recapture the nerves and anticipation.

One difference is that I think this marathon training cycle was too low mileage to truly challenge me. Granted, I was coming off a month-long layoff due to injury; however, this cycle has shown me that I can handle more and it is my intention to build up my base after the marathon by adding a fifth day of running each week. One day of cross-training will be replaced by another day of running.

Additionally, I've been distracted for the past few weeks with house buying. Going through the negotiation process for buying a house has been stressful and frustrating for me. I haven't been able to sleep well with my mind racing between "will we or won't we get this house," "what will we do if it falls through," "what will we need if it does go through." The lack of sleep has meant that my taper weeks, weeks that are meant to be restorative and confirmative of all my hard work, have been less than both of these things. (The only positive out of marathon training and house buying at the same time is that I can truthfully state, "I ran 20 miles and bought a house within 2 hours of one another!")

I've been so distracted that I haven't had time to get nervous or excited about the marathon. Rather than being the thought at the front of my brain, running this marathon has nearly become lost in life's madness. I hate seeming so cavalier about running a marathon but the past few weeks my attitude has been one of "oh yeah, I'm doing that too."

I want to run this marathon well. I want to finish strong. I want to feel good about my time, whatever it is, because I gave it all I got. I need to figure out how to bring the marathon back in to focus in the next couple days (if it is even possible).

Today’s Daily Dozen:
35 minutes - elliptical

Stories

I found out a few weeks ago that two former co-workers/current friends have decided to run a marathon for charity.

They’ve chosen to run the Mayor’s Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska so I cannot be there to support them but I am excited to support them through the journey of training for a marathon. Neither one is a runner; although both have been athletic in the past, so I think that they will be able to do it physically. Their success will be riding on their mental ability to maintain consistency during their training and slog through the long, slow miles of their long runs.

It has been fun to share running tips and advice with them and I hope to get a chance to run a training run or two with them. Their enthusiasm and nervous excitement about running the marathon has served to amp up enthusiasm for my own running.

During my long run on Saturday, thinking about what was in store for them, I started to reminisce about my own beginnings. I remembered those early mornings on the treadmill before work, running up to 10 miles at a time, before I found the courage to run all my runs outside (well after my first marathon…and even second). I thought about the excitement that quickly turned to anxiety after I signed up for the marathon and realized that there was no turning back.

Also, I thought about my own marathon experience. I distinctly remember that stomach wrenching feeling within the first mile when I run through a turn on the course, looked behind me and didn’t see a single runner. For the briefest second I thought I was absolute dead last. My stomach nearly dropped out of feet before I realized how preposterous a thought it was and finally a swarm of runners came around the corner.

As I was coming up on the halfway mark in the marathon, I saw my in-laws and my FIL ran along side me with his video camera, asking me how I was doing. On tape, a bit breathlessly I say, “I’m feeling good” but in my mind I was thinking “Good…really? Did I just say ‘good.’ Wow, I guess I really am feeling good. Am I supposed to still feel good? Oh god, am I doing this right?” A minute later, a mini-roar goes up and I see Mike and two friends cheering from the sideline. The image of Mike trying to both cheer AND take pictures was comical. I did; however, feel like a rock star!

During Saturday’s long run, my body started to get tired sooner than it usually doesn’t, probably because I am still recovering from a lingering cold bug and I decided to take a short walk break to eat the Fig Newtons I had brought along with me. As I munched my fruit and cake, I smiled at the memory of the magical banana my Mom had waiting for me at Mile 22 of the marathon; a banana so magical, the mere thought of it pulled me through miles 20 and 21 and gave me the renewed energy (physically and mentally) to get through the final four miles.

I wonder if my friends will have similar experiences. What running stories will they have to tell?

One thing is for sure, just like me, crossing the finish line at the end of their first marathon will be an experience they will not soon forget. It is hard to describe and it just sounds trite when I try to explain the joy, the near-tears, the amazement, the astonishment, the fear, the exhaustion that shot through my body all at once. I thought about this on my long run and I know I had a goofy grin on my face.

As I slowly tromped along the bike path thinking about these things, I realized there seemed to be more runners out and about than usual for a cold, February morning. There were lone runners, tall and lean, gliding along almost gazelle-like, and groups of runners with their waist belt hydration systems that I assume are training for a big race together. I saw small groups of runners, in twos and threes, out for a morning running, chatting away the miles as I imagine they’ve done on nice Saturday mornings for years and years.

I wonder, how many of those runners have their own first marathon stories to share and how many of them are in the process of making them right there on the bike path as we pass?

Today’s Daily Dozen
Skipped XT today because my quads are still sore from Saturday’s long run

Recovery Complete

Early on Saturday morning I set out for the final run of my rebuilding phase, recovering from a (assumed) stress fracture in my right foot. It was a perfect winter morning: the air was crisp but pleasant, the sky a bright cloudless blue, and the sun was shining down. It felt great to end my recovery on such a beautiful morning.

The workout was 30 minutes running followed by 1 minute walking repeated twice and as I began the run I told myself to just take it easy and enjoy the run. I had successfully rebuilt my running after not running a step for two months and I wanted to savor run. However, the idea to “just take it easy” was not to be and I ended up pushing the pace during the run. It was beautiful day and I was excited to end it well. I felt good and I wanted to end it on a run I could be proud of.

I am thankful to be back to running and grateful that my body is healthy again. I was in such a good mood as I ran along the bike trails, waving and saying “Good Morning” to all the runners and walkers I passed. I wanted to stop each one of them and shout, “I’m back…I’m back!” I was tempted to skip and jump up and down and laugh with joy. But I didn’t do any of those things. However, all those people I passed may have been wondering what that short little runner who passed by them was smirking about and I’m sure everyone could see the twinkle in my eye.

I polished off the 5-week long rebuilding phase with a 6.13 mile run in a time of 1:02. As my Garmin beeped off the final seconds, my legs felt tired but strong. They felt like runner’s legs once again.

This morning, Monday morning, I begin the next phase of building up to a marathon with my goal being the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington, VT at the end of May. I’ll be following Hal Higdon’s Novice 1 training program, which is the program I used, quite successfully, for my first marathon nearly two years ago. However, I’ll have to wait to actually start running because the very first day of the training program…is a cross-training day. Tomorrow, tomorrow!

Today’s Daily Dozen:
2.3 mile walk w/ inclines (treadmill), stopped every ten minutes for a set of 15 push-ups
Core workout on stability ball @ lunch hour

Run For Your Life: Movie Review

Run For Your Life is a documentary about Fred Lebow and the beginnings of the New York City Marathon.

The movie focuses on Lebow's role as director of the NYCM and how his energies, ideas and tireless passion for running made the city's marathon in to the premiere running event that it is today. Regardless of his faults, it is hard to argue that the NYCM could have evolved into the mega-'thon that is today without him.

Watching the movie made me want to run New York. I've done two marathons - one medium-sized and one mega-'thon - and I enjoyed the medium-sized race far more. Having to arrive at the race hours ahead of time, wait 16 minutes after the gun just to cross the finish line, and fight people at water stations were not worth the "experience" of running the Marine Corp Marathon.

Despite an aversion to the large marathons, I began having visions of running through the five boroughs of New York City. Hitting the "Wall of Sound" as you run onto First Avenue at the 16th mile is supposed to be an amazing experience. Maybe I will run that one...just the one time.

The most inspiring part of the movie was the footage of Lebow running NYC at age 60, only 3 years after being diagnosed with brain cancer. It was the only time he ran "his" marathon. Lebow shows just what an amazing man and a wonderful character in the history of running and marathoning.

Beyond all the wrangling and hype of creating a major annual marathon, Lebow was passionate about getting other people passionate about running. And he succeeded! Watching Run For Your Life made me even more exciting about restarting my running on Monday.

Today's Daily Dozen:
1 hour Hill Intervals on the Treadmill
1+ hours Wii Fit - lots of the strength exercises