I’m currently laying on the couch, feet up, with two different ice bags around my ankles.
Normal aches and soreness aside, this was a great week of training—and I’m zonked. But, I thought I’d give a quick baby recap of last week’s running/training.
M: spin + lifting
T: 10.3 m run
W:6 m treadmill run, 1 m warm up, 4 m < 7:50, 1 m cool down + body pump
T: 8.4 m run
F: Rest
S: 6.5 m trail run
S: 16.3 m run @ 8:30 avg pace
Total: 47.5 miles.
This week was run heavy. This was the first time in a while I’ve run 3 days in a row and 5/7 days of the week. I felt pretty good each day, although by the end I was experiencing some tendinitis in both my ankles. This could have been from doing a trail run in my Pure Connects, followed by a 16 miler the next day. Or just basic mileage increase.
Either way, the time for proceeding with caution is upon us. Although these are normal aches for me, I want to be especially careful to tend immediately to them. Ounce of prevention=pound of cure. On that note, my IT band continues to feel great, and maybe this week I’ll get brave enough to ween myself off of the strap I’ve been using. It’s really become a security blanket at this point…so hopefully before too long I’ll be comfortable heading out without.
That’s all for now, but I’ll leave you with a photo from the weekend. More to come soon! This is perhaps the funniest real-life photobomb I’ve seen. If you know my Granddad(the bomber in the photo) you’ll agree…
This is what a stupid runner’s high-enduced smile looks like
I have been stupidly excited about my runs recently. Like, smile plastered on my face, greeting every person/biker/car/rollerblader I see going by with a toothy grin and an in-your-face “GOOD MORNING!”
Here’s an example about how this elation has taken over my better senses: Tuesday, I finished a 10.3 mile run feeling on top of the world, both literally and figuratively. I had just climbed the super steep hill up to my house, and I felt super confident about my overall speed. Also, my IT band/knee was completely unnoticeable, which took my runner’s high to a recovered runner’s high—a whole new degree of giddy. THEN, later as I was driving back down said hill I’d just climbed, I saw a fellow runner girl grinding back up, and you know what my thought was? “I wish that was ME doing that right now! Jealous!”
Seriously, someone cage me.
But overall, I think these euphoric (bordering on obnoxious…I know, you can say it) feelings are stemming from two things:
1) My return from injury
2) My new-and-improved approach to marathon training
Obvs returning from injury (and please knock on every wooden item near you right now) is great reason to dig your runs. You have such a heightened appreciation for running after being away from it for so long. Relatively speaking, I wasn’t away too long, but I think any unplanned time away from running can totally revamp your love for it. I always love running, but there’s something so renewing about it when you come back from injury.
I know I haven’t discussed much about my new training mentality, partly because it wasn’t complete, but I love what it’s been doing for both my physical and mental strength.
So what, pray tell, is this new approach?
Very simple: Take myself less seriously, try new things, and be flexible.
These things are working together quite well so far, and I think they’ve done wonders for my training.
I’m having more fun, I’m looking forward to workouts more, and I’m less stressed out about the whole shebang.
So what are the steps I’ve been taking to ensure that my new approach works correctly?
Well, to begin, I think that the biggest thing I’m working on is very intentionally caring less. This sounds counterintuitive, because…um, hello, doesn’t marathon training take a butt ton of self motivation?
Yes, but hear me out.
As I realized after the Tacoma Marathon, the physical training—meaning the daily workouts, the mileage buildup, and the general grind of it all—isn’t the hard part for me. By nature, I enjoy the physical challenge, and my brain is programmed to go!go!go! all the time in terms of pushing harder and getting stronger. I realize that this can be a benefit, particularly for someone who runs marathons, however it can absolutely be taken to a destructive level. Take the TCM for example, or the fact that to this day I have to force myself to be okay with taking days off.
No hard feelings, Tacoma. Kidding! There still are. I hate you. Oh, it was all my own fault? FINE. I still hate your hills though.
So, I needed a new mentality. And that entailed letting myself off the hook and focusing more on the day-to-day victories. I realize this may only make sense in my own head, but essentially what I’ve done is I’ve taken the pressure off of performing at an unreasonable standard. I still want to run fast, and I still want to run many miles, but those numbers aren’t the reason I love this sport. What I love more than anything is to just run—fast, slow, long, short, outside, inside (okay…that’s pushing it), alone, and with others. So although I am training with number and mile goals in mind, they aren’t my primary concern.
With that said, I am also trying to get myself out of my normal exercise comfort zones. Sure, I can muster up the energy for an easy run or a gym workout—but within my own agenda. Ask me to go to a class I’ve never been to before or try a crazy lifting move I’ve never seen—fogetta about it!
However, I am a big believer that it is outside of our comfort zones where we find excitement, challenge, and—ultimately—improvement. So I committed myself to trying new things, yes in hopes of building my physical strength, but more so in hopes of shaking up my routine.
And I’ve found that you never quite know what you like until you venture into the unknown. I have absolutely loved trying new things (weights classes, different running workouts (tempo!!), new yoga poses) and I think the best part is that they make me excited for each daily workout. Instead of just being a means to an end (the end being Chicago in this case), I’m taking pride in my day-to-day sweat sessions and enjoying the smaller victories they present.
In addition to trying new things, like lunges, squats, and mountain climbers (I want to go on record saying I HATE THESE), I’m also getting very cozy with my rest days. They are scheduled into my training, and I’m taking comfort in them instead of letting them make me anxious. I’m realizing that if you are training at a hard enough level, you should want your rest days instead of fear them. I think before, when I was avoiding any rest at all, it’s because I was operating on an at-threshold activity level just for the sake of not wearing myself out. I wouldn’t push myself too hard for the sake of not needing a rest day.
DUMB
I’d much rather work hard, recharge, and stay healthy. Plus, now that I need to wake up a 4:45, days off are like a beacon of light every week.
Resting must involve rehydrating with a tropical beverage.
I know you’re probably getting bored (that’s presuming you’re still reading…and if so, hi!) so I’ll be brief in finishing up my last approach to marathon training.
Be flexible…that’s the motto I keep telling myself.
Flexible, yes, in the sense of stretching and yoga (jk I haven’t been in two weeks). But more so in being okay with the fact that life is going to get in the way of marathon training. And I’m letting it—because when marathon training starts to take over all other joys in life, such as an extra beer or three the night before a long run, a weekend visit to see your friends, or a lazy Sunday, it starts to drain us.
Running is a huge part of my life, but it’s not all of it. I like to use running to enhance the other great things in life, not take away from them. This means that my training schedule is amendable, and I’m not freaking out over hitting every target workout every day of the week.
A perfect example would be this upcoming weekend. BF and I are going down to my Summerhouse to play with my family…meaning LR plans needed to be altered. Ordinarily, this would stress me out. But instead, I rearranged, I front loaded the weekend with some extra miles this week, and I’m allowing myself to be excited about everything else I’ll get to do.
I’ll probably run there, but I feel a lot less pressure to break X number of miles with so many other wonderful things to occupy my time with.
So there it is: Robyn’s New Approach to Marathon Training. I am sure someday I’ll be gunning for a specific time goal, BQ, etc. But for this training cycle, I’m more interested in enjoying the running, fundraising for Girls on the Run, and getting excited to run in one of the biggest races in the world.
Based on my current mood and euphoria about anything involving Body Glide or Brooks, I’d say my new technique is working.
What do you think is the best way to approach marathon training? Relaxed? Goal-Oriented? Nutella in one hand and Nuun cocktail in the other?
“What’s up with that chick who thinks she has a running blog but hasn’t posted in almost a week?”
That’s totally what you’re thinking, I know.
Sorry for my absence as of late. Actually, I’m not really sorry because I’ve been doing some fun things that have kept me away from the computer for nearly 4 days. And I’ve loved it.
So… sorry, I’m not sorry.
To give you the quick-and-dirty update, I left with BF on a jet plane last Friday morning for a lovely little vacation to our hometown of Colorado Springs. But more on that in a bit…
This was a cutback week (which correlated beautifully with the altitude in CO inhibiting my ability to breathe), and I ended with a total of 34.5 miles for the week. Not much down from last week, but I like not adding heavily back to back to back. Which means 18 is coming up this weekend…..yea…..
Now, back to the reason why I’ve been MIA.
I was in Colorado for 4 beautiful days, doing lots of fun things but mainly enjoying being home with my family. BF and I went to a wedding and an OAR concert at Redrocks, and if you know where that is you know it’s a good time. Basically, it’s an enormous outdoor amphitheater made up of really cool red rock. Like, obviously.
Here are some select photos from said Colorado vacation:
We are at a wedding! We are adults! We are pros at self photos!
My puppy…and yes, she is in fact a “pure” lab.
OAR concert!
I always get nervous to run in Colorado. When you go from sea level to running at over 6,000 feet, scary things can happen to your lungs, heart rate, and muscles. Luckily, I was able to pump out a long run without too many issues, and I got reacquainted with the feeling of dripping with sweat after running. Both runs in CO were done in 80 degree morning heat, which added some pizzazz to the already compromising altitude conditions.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger I suppose. And plus, Chicago has been known to be hot in the past few years on marathon day…better to get used to it now.
In other news, I started a new job today! Which is definitely exciting, and I’ll give some details soon, however for now I just need to get used to a new daily schedule…including a significantly earlier running time. Which will get rough at some point, but with this as my wake up call, I think I’ll survive:
Hello Seattle, let’s be friends.
I hope your week is going great, and because I would love to hear from some of you out there…
Have you ever run at altitude? Are you training for anything right now? Running in the heat…love it or hate it?
I wasn’t going to run yesterday. I had planned on a recovery run from Saturday’s LR, but since my knee hurt a bit from the day before, I decided to opt for spin. However, around 5:30 (and after a lot of beach relaxation) I felt a weird urge to go run in the evening heat. I went with the urge, headed out watch-less for a quick little out-and-back, and wound up feeling better than I’ve felt since I started running again!
It also felt fast, which immediately made me regret not wearing a timing device. But have no fear, because I’m OCD and was determined to figure out just how fast I was going, I tallied up the songs I had listened to on the run and added up their times.
Creativity points?
Anyways, I figured out that I was averaging 7:30 miles, which is much lower than I’ve been clocking recently. It was a little surprising, because like I said—I felt so good on this run and my legs felt happy and pain-free. Looks like I might need to let the chains let loose a little bit more.
This was one of those runs where I decided to listen to my body (not a training plan, not my Garmin) and just GO. And the results were great! It truly is best sometimes to just run by feel. I knew I would have been fine without going yesterday, but something was telling me to head on out. I loved this run, and I loved feeling some speed under me after so much time without.
The rest of the weekend can pretty much be summed up in one word: SUN!
So much sun. So many sunshine filled activities—including the aforementioned one above:
The rain does go away sometimes!
I made friends with a jelly fish yesterday, although I don’t think he was as into following me as I was into following him.
Also, does your face look like this after long runs?
Salty face by way of emo MySpace picture
I was told during my time in the medical tent at the Tacoma Marathon that I’m a “salty sweater” and I was a little surprised because I thought everyone got this salty during long runs. Do you? Just me?
How was your weekend?? What kinds of things did you do in the heat? Did you have to adjust your plans according to the hot weather? Are you a salty sweater?
Remember funk town Friday? Yea, it’s gone now. Actually, it started to dissipate pretty soon after posting—partly because writing is theraputic, and partly because I started listening to the ’90s pop station on Pandora. TLC, LFO, BSB…you guys make me happy.
Today is a new day, and it’s an exciting one.
Remember last week, and I think some weeks beforehand, when I said I had a sweet announcement to make? Right—well, even though the title of this post kind of gives it all away, let’s back track a bit to provide some appropriate lead up.
I am pretty chronically in a state of planning my next endeavor. In the past year or so it’s mostly been marathons, but there have also been moments of considering other extreme athletic endeavors, planning a race to start myself, or checking flight prices to exotic locations all over the world. Most of the time, these things don’t actually emancipate—sometimes because of practicality, but mostly because something else comes along that seems even more exciting. You might call it ADD, but it’s really just a case of getting really fixated on certain ideas, and then trying to make those ideas even more exciting.
However, every so often, one of them sticks—and once they stick, I am completely incapable of letting myself off of the proverbial hook. I become mentally and physically committed to the sticking ideas, and I refuse to let any logistical issues get in my way. Last year, this was training for my first marathon. Next year, I know it will be a (half) Ironman. And this year?
Well, after much deliberation and “patience,” the perfect opportunity came to me—and I grabbed the bull by the balls.
The bull, in this case, is the prestigious Chicago Marathon…which I will officially be running on October 7!!
I was really wanting to run the Chicago Marathon about two months ago, however when I checked the website they were already sold out. I was bummed, but I knew I’d find something else—so I sort of forgot about it.
And I did find a few more race ideas, however none of them were really calling to me. I began wondering it I even wanted to do a fall marathon or if I just wanted to play around for a while.
Well, that was right when the universe was all, “Yea right lady…try and ignore this opportunity,” and low and behold—an email from Girls on the Run shows up in my inbox.
The email said that it had bonus entries for the Chicago Marathon, in which runners would raise a certain number of dollars for GOTR and then run the race as a GOTR Solemate.
Um.
YES!
This was exactly what I’d been looking for. Not only is it the race I was after, but it would offer something entirely new and exciting in terms of training. This would allow me to run and train for something much bigger than myself, which is just what I’ve been looking for. In the midst of looking for an epic fall race, I was also on a mission to stop taking my running so seriously. Running is supposed to be fun, and despite how much I love competing, I also need to stop being so concerned with performance and times and all that jargon as much as I have been. Those things are important, but they aren’t everything, and I’m confident that this opportunity to run for Girls on the Run will be just to ticket to work outside of my own selfish training endeavors. Because the ultimate purpose of this endeavor is to raise money, and advocate for, Girls on the Run.
So, where does that leave me? Well, logistically speaking….a lot of fundraising to do and a training program to start. Both of which I am officially starting today! Hooray starting to train again! I have a number of changes I’ll be making to this training regimen, which I’ll talk about soon, but overall I’m really excited to be a Solemate and spread all the good word about Girls on the Run to everyone I know. (And when I say everyone, I’m serious…get ready, every family member, friend, family friend, blogger, twitter follower, coworker, etc.)
And thus commences my first request for donations! The minimum fundraising amount is $750, but I’m going to go for $1,000. And perhaps more if possible! If you are interested in joining my training/fundraising endeavors, you can donate here!
Girls on the Run is an amazing organization, and one that tugs on my former tomboy heartstrings. Their mission is essentially to inspire and encourage young girls through running—and their program hopes to create confidence in a healthy and active lifestyle. These are lessons that are so pivotal for girls to learn at a young age, particularly in our society which is so focused on unrealistic image expectations(read: lies) for women. Running has done so much for women, both young and old, in terms of instilling a sense of self-motivation and self-love, and I think it’s so inspiring that Girls on the Run is bringing this mission to the next generation of women.
So today marks my first day of training for the Chicago Marathon! And it’s a rest day….awesome.
More details on my training program and approach to come, but for now I’m just excited to start fundraising and prepare to run in one of the greatest marathons in the world!
I have nothing very specific to talk about today, but I am pretty pumped about the random musings I do have to deliver. I know what you’re thinking…”Robyn, everything you have to say is exciting! I totally love hearing about your injury whining and cookie addiction on a daily basis.”
You guys, stop making me blush.
No, I know I’m not very original. BUT, happenings such as those that went on this past weekend (super interesting grammar right there) ARE in fact exciting to me, therefore you get to hear about them.
This weekend involved a lot of running… …but not by me.
Which was fine! Because it was still great, and I enjoyed every minute of it.
I spent a raging Friday night curled up on my couch watching the trials and crying for cheering on Amy and Dathan. It is SO amazing to me that all these athletes train for YEARS for just ONE race that will determine their Olympic future. Many of those races, mind you, are UNDER ten seconds. TEN SECONDS! All of which hold the fate of their Olympic dreams.
Crazy…and I admire that kind of determination. It takes some kind of guts to know that all your hard work will either make or break it in such a short time frame.
Anyway, I geeked out hard over the trials, and it reminded me so much of my old track days. I was a sprinter in high school, however my main event was the 400m hurdles. We short folk have a disadvantage in the 100m hurdlers, therefore my coach forced me into the longer race, which should also be known as, “Hold in your puke while jumping over 10 barriers and sprinting at full speed.”
That race is a beast, and I still have nightmares about it. But, I still loved it, and I could so clearly remember the butterflies that came with sprint races while watching the trials.
Oh! And the whole Western States thing that was going on this weekend, which was also fun to follow. The nice thing about a 100 mile race? You can check on it, go about your day, do whatever you want, then that night you can check on it again and the runners are STILL GOING. Just another weekend, right guys?
Onto Saturday. I think everyone with a Twitter account/everyone within a 100 mile radius of Seattle knows that Seattle Rock ‘n’ Roll was on Saturday at 0700. I wasn’t doing it, but a ton of Seattle area bloggers were…which obviously meant I was a)jealous and b)determined to involve myself somehow.
So, when I asked Nicole (who was running the full) where she would like the most cheerleader support, she responded asking if I would run the last 6 miles with her.
Um, best question ever?? YES! I was psyched…partly because it would lessen my sadness about not running the race, but mainly because I am ready to jump at any opportunity to help someone to the finish line after over 20 miles of running. After the kind lady in Tacoma helped carry my feverish butt to the end of the race, I not only felt indebted to the universe to help someone myself…but I also realized how moral support can really be a clutch after that many miles of running.
Sign me up RicoleRuns, I was pumped.
However, despite my ample pre-planning (course studying, timing allowance, etc.) I quickly realized there was no way I would be able to join her at mile 20. You see, mile 20 was one of the miles along i-90, so in order to get on the course I would have to park on the side of the highway, dodge traffic, run the wrong way against thousands of people running a marathon, and causally hang out until I hopefully spotted Nicole. AKA, not happening.
When you’re in a panic to get to a race course, you obviously should Tweet about it.
So, I rerouted, meandered around Seattle, and found the closest spot I could get to that was off of i-90, which ended up being just before mile 23. So I cheered, I chatted up some super fast chick who was rooting for runners as well, and just like clockwork there was Nicole…right on time target!
She said she felt terrible, but you wouldn’t have guessed it. She looked great, and I did my best to distract, encourage, and move her along those hilly last three miles without her punching me in the face for being too chatty/energetic. It was funny because I think some of the aid stations thought I was running the marathon too—humorous, because if they saw what I really look like at mile 23 of a marathon, they would realize how false their assumptions were.
Anyways, Nicole killed it. And despite the normal “I hate everything” feelings that come at the end of a marathon, she finished strong and I was so honored to have been a part of it. 3:57 for her, 3 of those miles I got to spend along for the ride. Good times. Read her race report here!
And how does one get back to one’s car after running along a race course to the other side of town? Why, by running back of course! Fortunately for me (and thanks to the fine organizers of Seattle RNR) the course ran right alongside downtown Seattle, so I was able to weave my way back to my car no trouble. In fact, I got to see many RNR runners that had finished their races along the way…so I congratulated every last one all while on my own run. It might have been weird, but whatever…I dug it. Although I would have liked to have been running the race, I felt like I had actively participated as much as I could otherwise.
Sunday, after a two hour spin class (also see: sweat, sweat, and a very slippery floor), BF and I headed to brunch and then the zoo. I don’t care how old you are, the zoo is crazy amounts of fun—and thanks to the lovely weather yesterday, all the animals were out and about and strutting all their wild stuff. BF and I are both big animal lovers (him probably more so) therefore we are unable to leave even one display unseen.
Flamingos!
The butt of a hippo.
Children, don’t you know I am trying to photograph the orangutan wearing a burlap sack as a cape WHILE drawing on the window in chalk for my blog/personal collection??? Rude.
More trials last night, more gawking at abs and quads, and all in all a very enjoyable weekend.
I’m getting my running groove back (please knock on your table/desk right now), I have some pretty sweet life changes happening, AND I have a sweet announcement for later this week. HINT: It involves running. Unpredictable, right?
Have yourself a lovely Monday friends…and because I enjoy hearing about people’s weekends/races: Did you run RNR? How did it go?! Any other neat weekend happenings? Did you want to do sit-ups after watching the women’s 10,000m too? Did you just go get fro-yo like me instead? What’s your favorite zoo animal?
It’s Friday already? I mean, awesome, but this week has flown by—which is odd, because I feel like I’ve been moving at a sloth-like pace through it.
Anyways, welcome to the end of the week!
Here is a picture of an adorable panda to get us off on the right foot:
PANDA DON’T BE SO SAD! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO GET DOWN!?! I WILL HELP YOU! I LOVE YOU!
It has been too long since I included some cuteness in my posts. The shame!
I know I always do Friday Favorites, and I know I’ve been skipping out on it recently in favor of being thankful and talking about existential running jargon, and I PROMISE I’ll start faves again soon….but not this week. Sorry, I know you’re day is probably ruined.
I just have too many other things to say! And since I have limited blogging time availabile…I need to squeeze things in when I can.
So, we all know by now that my race on Sunday went differently than I anticipated. (And if you don’t know, check it out here, because I know your curiosity must be ON FIRE right now). Can you tell I’m caffeinated? I am.
Anyways, there has been a lot of post-race reflecting, pondering, and Nutella consumption going on around these parts, and while I am not ready to dismiss the seriousness of what happened by any means, I am literally unable to not try and find the silver lining and move forward. Eternal optimist—I can’t help it, and I am a big believer that all experience is good experience, even when that experience involves the inability for the nerves in my brain to signal my legs to move.
With that said, I’d like to share with you some of the things I’ve learned from this whole ordeal. Truly, the big lessons will probably take a little while to fully emancipate, however I do feel like I’m squeezing all of the personal-growth juice I can from all this.
Ew, sorry, “juice” should not be used to describe anything other than something that comes from a fruit.
You get it though.
So…let’s get a move on. Here are some things I’ve learned, both big and small, through the race that quite literally swept me off my feet (and not in a Ryan Gosling dream sequence kind of way).
-I have “awesome” veins.
After I was removed from the ice bath and my temperature was going down, the nurses/doctors were helping to stop my muscle cramping by using a lot of compression on all my limbs. One of the women behind me was all, “Wow, you have awesome veins!” and although this could mean a) I am easy to stick with a needle b)she was being nice about the spider veins all over my body or c)both, at the time I took it as a compliment.
I might have “awesome veins,” but the lady doc doesn’t really have “awesome IV sticking abilities.” I also have “awesome bruising skills.”
– The pacer stick is not very heavy at all.
One of the things I have always been SUPER impressed by in terms of the people who pace a race (besides the fact, obviously, that they are guaranteeing a certain finish time over 26 or 13 miles) is that they are CARRYING something while running. I can barely handle carrying a handheld water bottle, and I get stressed thinking about carrying anything more than a few gels and my own body weight. You can imagine my horror, then, when the 3:40 pacer (mustache man, if you remember) asked me to hold the pace stick while he went pee in the woods.
Him: “Hey can you hold this for a bit?”
My Brain: “WTF WHO DO YOU THINK I AM I HAVE ONLY RUN ONE MARATHON I HATE YOU!”
Me: “Totally, no problem.”
Surprise! It’s really light, and actually very manageable to run with. And despite my momentary panic, I decided that his decision to offer ME the carrying stick actually translated into:
“You’re such a super star runner, Robyn. My mustache and I respect you and your flawless form and I have no doubt you could take over my pacer job. In fact, you should be a pacer yourself.”
That’s exactly what he thought, and despite the fact that his mind *might* have changed when he saw me being cradled like an infant by the Medical Director, I still think we have an everlasting bond through our 3 minutes of a pace-stick exchange.
BFF photo
– Knowing your target HR=helpful when running a marathon
I’ve said this before, but I don’t own a Garmin. I was always very happy with my little blue Timex, and I actually enjoyed the added freedom of not knowing exactly how far I had gone on a run or how fast I was going. I liked calculating these things afterward instead—meaning that while I can claim to be a “pure” runner while actually out on a run, I do still really care about distance and pace. Something I am not able to calculate too easily without an electronic device is my heart rate, and I believe this knowledge would have been a good indication of how over my limit I was on Sunday.
So, I’m giving in: For both my safety (and the fact that I really, really want one) I’m going to invest in a Garmin, finally. Having one doesn’t mean I need to wear it on every run I go on, however knowing my ideal HR on long runs will help me avoid the situation I got into.
In that regard…suggestions? I just want pace, distance, HR, and a light…for when it’s dark.
– Always have someone you know with you at a race
Certainly, everyone wants supporters to cheer them on at a race—it’s so motivating to know that you have friends, family, or pets out there on the course or finish line, gunning for you to run a stellar race. However, as I have discovered, it is almost equally if not more important to have people there for the bad things that can happen along with the good.
If you remember, I came *this* close to running the Eugene Marathon (and yes I am totally, 100% okay with the fact that I didn’t run the flat, fast course instead of Hill Town Tacompton, clearly). BUT had I run Eugene, I would have been there completely solo, as BF wouldn’t have been able to come, meaning that if something like this would have happened, I wouldn’t have had anyone I knew on the sidelines. No one to drive me home, no one to be there in the medical tent, and no one to report to my family that everything was okay.
When I was coming out of my overheated delirium, all I wanted was for BF to come and be with me, and I can’t imagine how much scarier that situation would have been without someone I knew present.
So sure, I definitely love having people there to cheer me on, but I know now just how important it is to have someone there for a worst-case scenario as well.
Thanks for coming see me “finish” a marathon Corey, you’re the best sister.
– There is such a thing as “marathon peeing”
YOU GUYS, this happened. I couldn’t believe it, and I’m still having a hard time thinking back to it all, but for reals—around mile 22, there I was…a self-sufficient, mature(ish) 24-year-old, peeing my pants on the run.
Now, if you haven’t heard of this before, please don’t click out of my blog out of disgust and shock—because truly, I had no idea I was capable of this. I knew that people did it…instead of stopping at the porta potties, they just straight peed their pants, but I always assumed this was people who had itty bitty bladders and were going for a world record. I NEVER have to pee when I run, but somehow my ample mid-race hydration caught up to me…and there it was.
I was in my cloudy “Make it stop” state when it happened, so it didn’t really register at the time, but when one of the doctors afterward asked me, “When was the last time you peed?” I started cracking up and said, “On the course!” which I thought was absolutely hilarious. At this point, I still had a 105 degree fever, which probably aided my light-headed humor, but now thinking back…it is hilarious, and clearly I have no shame.
Luckily, an ice bath quickly cleanses peed-in shorts, so wearing my shorts afterward wasn’t entirely unbearable.
SEXY. That’s why you date me BF, isn’t it? Cause I’m so “Not so fresh and not so clean clean.”
– After a marathon, your body declares full autonomy over you.
Yes, we should always listen to our bodies. And yes, I hardly practice what I preach in this regard, but when it comes to the week after a marathon, we hardly have a choice.
Every action I’ve been taking this week has been dictated by my body, and anything too difficult for it is quickly stopped in its tracks. I’m able to swim and spin no problem, and both are adding some really helpful blood flow…however running, not so much.
I felt good enough yesterday afternoon to (very slowly) try out my post-marathon legs. So while I said, “Yes! Let’s run!” my body quickly replied with “NOT!” in a very in-your-face Borat kind of way.
After about a quarter mile, my right knee/IT band/fibula/etc started getting really tight, and it was not having it. BF and I were “running” together at the time, and I had to tell him to go on ahead while I waited with a pissed off leg (Not to be confused with a “pissed on” leg, which I also know about…see above). Fortunately, he is a kind soul and quickly returned to walk back to our starting point with me, and I am going to wait a few more days until trying to run again.
I admit that I quickly panicked that I have some long-term injury that will disable me from running the entire summer (rationality is my strong suit), however I know that you cannot trust any post-marathon pains until the race wear and tear eventually works its way out. Truthfully, I think my muscles are just still really recovering, and my foremost goal right now is to listen my body above all else.
Sorry ladies, you’ll have to wait.
And with that said…
– It is okay to back off.
This is perhaps the biggest understanding I’ve reached so far in the reflection I’ve done over this race. I know it is definitely going to take a while to really internalize it, because it completely contradicts the way my brain works—but it’s something I know will make me a much smarter athlete and runner.
My problem during the race (and I suppose in my day-to-day life) is that I refuse to let myself back off from not trying my very hardest. For better or for worse, I hate thinking of myself as someone who doesn’t give their absolute best—because that’s the way I always like to operate. It’s the reason why I love always having a hard, satisfying workout, why I don’t like taking days off, and why I got myself into the circumstances leading up to my collapse on Sunday. I thrive on pushing myself, on knowing that I worked hard, and it’s the way I have and will probably always choose to operate on a daily basis.
Most of the time, this is a good thing. It’s good as a runner, an employee, and just for general productivity. However, as is always the case, it is possible for there to be too much of a good thing. Case in point, the Tacoma Marathon.
So, I suppose what I’m mostly realizing is that I don’t need to worry about my mental stamina. I think I’m always worried that I’ll slip in the average, lazy-person mindset of only half-assing things and searching for ways to not give me all. This fear is part of what drives me to always give my best, which is good, however I’m realizing that I’m not a person who will ever not be competitive, not be strong-willed, or not be anxious to do my best. In that regard, it will actually be more helpful for me to realize how to dial back, as opposed to giving more.
I know now that I don’t really have an issue with trying my hardest, and in fact it will be braver and more trying of my natural instincts to tone down my workouts and my do-or-die mentality. Of course I want to keep working and training hard, but something I really want to start to internalize is that for me—the greater way of challenging myself is finding a better balance. This means a rest day, every single week, even when I’d rather not and knowing when I’m on a run or in a race when I need to forego being a winner for the sake of being safe.
Part of being an athlete is understanding both the value of recovery and the value of hard work. I have been very one-sided when it comes to achieving this balance, and it reached a breaking point when I ignored my body’s warning signs for the sake of a certain finish time.
So, to make an already long story short, I have learned that being more cautious and offering my body more rest is ultimately going to make me a better athlete, and I’m happy to have a new kind of challenge ahead of me.
Have a great weekend all you lovely people out there! Thanks for following my meaning-of-life journey post-marathon, and I hope that if nothing else, I’ve offered a bit of insight into how pushing through pain only goes so far, and sometimes the harder, gutsier decision is knowing when to stop instead of go.
Tell me some marathon lessons you’ve learned! The good, the bad, and the pee-your-pants kind. You’re welcome internet for knowing about that now. Have you ever done that? Please tell me so I don’t feel like a toddler/old person. What are your Garmin suggestions? What are you doing this weekend? Will you help me save that panda from his tree? SOMEONE PLEASE HELP THAT PANDA.
Slowly but surely (emphasis on the slowly, namely my walking speed), I am returning back to normal since the *excitement* from Sunday. I have done a little yoga, a little swimming, a lot of sleeping, a lot of horrific foam rolling, and drowned myself in frozen yogurt—all of which are helping to cleanse away the fear and the beating endured in the race.
A BIG thanks to those of you who’ve offered your support, condolences, and general affirmation after reading my lengthy race recap. I truly appreciate your kind words and happy thoughts.
There are many things that have been going on through my head since Sunday, and I think I have started to unwind from the pure shock of it all into some more grounded, realistic thoughts. However, I am still quite askew in terms of my rationalization of the whole thing, and while there are a number of words I could use to describe my current state of mind regarding running, marathons, etc., I think the one prevailing thing I’m feeling is frustration.
Now, before I dive into the specifics of this frustration, let me first say that I realize there are many different opinions on how I decided to run my race on Sunday. I have heard everything from ballsy and inspiring to reckless and stupid (I believe the phrase”psych exam” was in there somewhere), and I want to say that you are entirely entitled to your own opinion.
Personally, in terms of how I view it all, I think that I fall somewhere in the middle. On one hand, I know that I should have never put myself in that kind of danger, and I’m mad at myself for scaring my loved ones and myself by not realizing I’d reached my limit. On the other hand, and I say this with marginal reluctance, but the truth is—I can’t say that I would have run that race any other way. For better or for worse, my mind was stronger than my body on Sunday, and while I will absolutely need to keep this in check, I am also not surprised it happened.
It might be stubbornness, it might be idiocy, it might be determination, or it might be an alternative chromosome—no matter how you characterize my mindset during this race, all I know is that it is 100% who I am as a runner, an athlete, and a person. Which is part of the reason this race has left me feeling frustrated, among other things, and I’m having a hard time trying to reconfigure how to prioritize my goals from here on out.
Part of me wants to run for fun for the rest of the year; just running without regimin or goal time in mind—simply for the love of it. The other part wants to run so many marathons that I’m able to drown out the memory of what happened in Tacoma. I am certain I will land somewhere in the middle eventually. Frankly, I don’t like that a sport I love so much and a sport I hold in such high regard chopped me to pieces so quickly. I spent months preparing to run this marathon—I was ready for it, I was both mentally and physically chomping at the bit to do well, and in 3 hours and 44 minutes it punched those months of hard work right in the face. Well, in the IT band, the hamstrings, the quads, and the calves—to be more specific. It was my own fault, I know that, but at the same time I feel like I was cheated by the laws of all marathon running and general athletic endeavors.
Allow me to explain: Every single sports mantra, coach, PE poster, whatever will tell you, “Pain is weakness leaving to body,” “You’re stronger than you think you are,” and “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift” (yes, I needed to include Pre). Since a very early age, we’ve heard all these mantras, and we’ve been told to believe that our bodies are much stronger than our mind allows them to be. Unfortunately, I internalized these ideas too much on Sunday—and I crossed over the line of my physical potential to my physical limitations.
The entire time I was running, particularly when it started to get really difficult, I told myself all these “mind over matter” sayings—I convinced myself that of course it was hard, it’s a marathon! I thought that the pain I was experiencing was the kind that everyone feels, and all I had to do was push it further—because I was stronger than any mental downfall or shortcoming. I knew I was in good enough shape to run a marathon, in fact I was in better shape than I was for my first 26.2, so the pain I was feeling must have been due to the hills and the speed—not to my own physical deficiency.
I realize how prideful this sounds, and it absolutely is, but more than anything it’s my obscene competitive nature. I am competitive with others, have no doubt, but my most fiery, ruthless competitive drive is with myself and my own goals. So despite knowing I was in more pain than I should have been, and despite knowing that running an 8:10 pace over 26 hilly miles was incredibly ambitious, I could not let up holding myself up to my highest standard.
I knew qualifying for Boston on this course was going to be miraculous. I said this to BF, to my family, and I thought that I knew it myself. However, I also knew, in the murky, victory-craving corners of my brain that it was still possible. I knew that if I had ideal conditions, perfect taper, and a little bit of race magic—I would be able to pull it off, even on a hard course. And…I suppose this was accurate, because had I not literally fallen at mile 26, there is a very good chance I would have qualified. However, instead of letting my training, the course, and the miracle come to me…I forced it, and that was my mistake.
I should have realized earlier in the race that should I qualify, the factors leading up to it wouldn’t be entirely in my control. Because despite how much we’d like to think it, miracle races (as BQing in Tacoma would have been) require a little something more than all the training and preparation we put into them. They require that certain race day magic that lights us up when we need it, and it’s somewhat intangible and undefinable. Unfortunately, I decided to forego the whole “let it come to you” notion and instead decided to make my own miracle happen. Once the image of myself crossing the finish line under a 3:35:59 clock got locked in my head, I couldn’t let it go—even though when I started feeling the wall around mile 19, I should have.
So instead of obeying the rules of “the wall,” something I had never before experienced, I decided to try and run right through it…and then when that didn’t work, I backed up and ran right back into it, over and over again. The funny thing though about walls is that they don’t move, and all that endless beating against my own wall ended up withdrawing every ounce of strength I had in me. I am sure that had I backed up my pace even a tiny bit, all the conditioning I knew I had within me would have regained a bit of control and I would have finished the race in a great time. I couldn’t accept “a great time” though, because I was chasing the 3:35 beast the entire race, and despite all the fire and poison it was spitting at me, I was determined to pin it down.
So, what do I take from all this? Well, there are many things—but more than anything, I think I have learned that on Sunday, my mental conditioning was stronger than my physical conditioning. So often our brains tell us to stop while our bodies have the ability to keep going—however, I experienced the opposite. I didn’t listen to my body, I brushed off my pain as durable, and eventually my mental stamina outlasted my body to the point where my body decided to no longer function.
There is, furthermore, a line between pushing to your limits and exceeding your limits—and this is something I had never really realized or grasped before. I’ll admit I’m a bit confused and worried about the line dividing “far” and “too far,” because up until Sunday, I believed we were capable of anything we set our minds too. Which I still believe…but now to a certain degree. I suppose what I will need to work on more than anything is listening to my body as opposed to pushing myself solely on brain determination.
At this point, I know I have the mental strength to get through a marathon…perhaps too much, and that is something I can still count on the drive me when the going gets tough. However, I am now going to have to work on deciphering between working to my full potential and working beyond my capabilities. Because, yes, I do have limitations…and despite the fact that my self-righteous subconscious would scoff at such a statement, it is the truth—as it is for everyone.
So where does that leave me? Well, I am going to continue to recover, reflect, and eventually I’ll get brave enough to put on my iPod and lace up my shoes. I’m actually still unable to listen to any of the songs I listened to on race day, and even seeing the clothes I wore gives me a bit of a shudder. No doubt, full recovery from this marathon—particularly the metal part—is going to take a while. However, I never shy away from an opportunity for self-improvement, and I’m happy to accept all the humility and re-prioritization it takes to get myself back in the swing of things.
I realize this post was rather stream-of-consciousness and didn’t have much of a thread running through it (I suppose not too many of my posts do though 🙂 ). However, this post was very expressive of the way my brain is working right now—just trying to process it all and regain a little composure. I ultimately just needed to get some of my thoughts down, and now that I have I feel a bit freer.
And now, because I am FASCINATED by this right now:
When is “pushing yourself” too much? Where do we divide the line between fighting through the pain and accepting it? Do you think runners are particularly susceptible to this kind of thinking?
I’m not entirely sure if I’ve had the time to fully process the outcome of this race, and in fact I think it may take a few days for it all to sink in. I can say, though, that this race was without question one of the most exhausting, humbling, and all-around intense experiences I have ever had. It is probably safe to say, as well, that this race was perhaps the most memorable—for better or for worse—that I’ll ever go through.
I’m going to start with the end (Tarantino style), just to set the stage for what the race resulted in, and then I’ll back-track with more details of how everything set up.
The good news about this race: I PR’ed, and I finished.
The bad news: I was carried across the finish line (and over the last .3 miles), and I spent an hour afterward in the medical tent being treated for severe heat stroke.
Rewind, rewind, rewind…
Leave you hanging much? Well, prepare for a lengthy race report…and I promise to flesh out the details that resulted in the most physically grueling experience I’ve ever been through.
Let’s start at the beginning of it all.
Not a detail missed. I was really feeling psyched for this race. I was nervous, obviously, but really I was just ready to see what I could do. I knew my training was right on with where I wanted it to be, I knew my taper was smart, and I certainly knew my carbo-loading went perfectly. I was ready to run.
It’s 5:30 am! It’s race day! Let’s run a marathon!
The race was quite small, but still well-run and organized. I managed to see most of the people I knew beforehand, which was very comforting and helped get me excited. My sister had come down for the race, and she managed to capture some corral pictures right before the gun went off.
PSYCHED!
Ready to run! (These photos seem so ironic right now…)
My strategy was to stick with the 3:40 pacer until the halfway point, and then try and chase down 3:35 if I was feeling up for it. The 3:40 pacer, as you might be able to tell from the above photo, had a ridiculously fantastic mustache, and I knew we were going to get along from the very start.
My sister was also able to capture this video right before the gun went off. I admit, I hate videos of myself, but I figured it’s a good way to get a glimpse into the beginning of race excitement:
And off we went! The weather was a perfect 45 degrees, slightly overcast, and ideal for racing conditions. The first few miles felt great, and although I could tell we were going a bit quicker than 3:40, I figured we’d settle into a proper pace before too long. The first 5 or so miles wound through Tacoma neighborhoods, and I really enjoyed seeing some of my old token running spots along the route. My legs felt springy, my knee didn’t hurt at all (which was perhaps my biggest worry), and I was feeling very comfortable with the 8:15 or so pace we were averaging.
At this point, I will admit, I was already a bit hesitant about our slightly faster speed. I knew that miles 10-22 were the hilly parts, and I wanted to save my strength for that, so I did fall a bit behind the group for a bit. I was trying very hard to run my own pace, as opposed to following the pacer, however we seemed to be right on par with one another, so this approach seemed do-able.
I hate to say that it was really only the first 10 miles that I can say I felt “good.” I started to feel tired much earlier than I expected, and than I knew I was in shape for, and I credited this to the hills, the humidity, and the speed. I didn’t feel too bad, but I knew that the way I was feeling around miles 12-16 was not how I should be feeling. I was staying more hydrated than normal, wary of the humidity and the exertion, and I was taking in a bit more fuel than normal as well.
At mile 16, my sister ran a bit with me, handed me a caffeine energy gel pack, and gave me a bit of encouragment. It was great to see her, but (as I told her) I was not feeling the way I knew I should have at that point.
moral support from CB
mile 16, on a hill, SHOCKING.
Between miles 16-19, I purposefully fell behind the 3:40 pacer. I wasn’t trusting his timing (which, rightfully so, because we were about 3 minutes ahead), and I trudged on myself. I was hoping that somehow the hills, which plagued nearly every mile since mile 11, would somehow let up a bit…but alas, they never really stopped. I was prepared for this, certainly, and I can’t necessarily say that they were worse than I expected—but I had never really had the experience of running that fast, for that long, with so many hills.
I was trying desperately to relax, to let the music energize me, and to remember that I was in sight of a BQ. Because I was…and I forced myself to focus on this goal. If I let myself wander away from that thought, all I would be thinking about was stopping—because that’s all I really wanted to do. Every so often, I would get a mini surge of energy—normally due to a quick gulp of my gel pack or a brief slowing at a water station—but truthfully my body was done around mile 20. My mind, however, was relentless, and despite my nausea, my aching legs, and my fuzzy brain, I maintained my speed and kept going.
And you know what else kept going? The hills. Despite all my mental and physical preparation for the hill factor in this race, they really seemed to be the biggest physical representation of my mental state over the last 10k. I muttered more curse words than I care to admit every single time I saw another upward slope ahead of me, and despite every molecule screaming inside of me to “STOP!” I kept going. I tried desperately to maintain the thought that I was well within sight of a BQ, however that thought—despite how bad I wanted it and how hard I had worked—was being completely eclipsed by my desire for it to be over.
On top of this battle, as well, I was so frustrated. I kept thinking, “This is not how I felt during my first marathon, why does it feel so hard now?” and I was mad at myself. I started cursing my failed race strategy, my ill-hill preparation, and my overly zealous attempt to make this race—one that I KNEW was a hard course—my try at a BQ.
I kept going though, fast, and at this point I was about 1 minute away from the 3:35 pacer (BQ time for women.) Based on my own timing, I knew that I had about 28 minutes to run the last 5k—a task that would be a piece of cake on any other day. I tried to remember that I knew I could do it, that the ultimate, ideal goal of a BQ was still within my sight—despite my body rejecting every bit of mental encouragement.
However, my body’s desire for the race to be over had finally surpassed my desire to BQ, and it would offer no waves, surges, or even glimpses of energy. It was done. My brain, however, was still on a mission. I was very back and forth between these two conflicting feelings. I think at this point, my brain had overtaken my body’s desire to stop, and I was running solely on the dream of completing the goal. All I could focus on were the mile markers, because all I wanted was for it to be over—and of course, the mile markers…22, 23, 24 were going by slower than any other race I’ve ever been in. At mile 24, my vision was getting a bit distorted, and all I wanted to do was close my eyes. I felt so tired that I was overwhelmed with a feeling of wanting to sleep. In fact, I think I did close my eyes for a few paces in there. Truthfully, I’m having a hard time actually remembering things after mile 22.
When I saw mile 25, I felt the smallest morsel of encouraging energy—my first since way back in the middle of the race. I knew if I just kept going, just a little bit further, I would be done and I would be under 3:35. I had never been so overwhelmed with the desire to be done with something than I was at this point—which was frustrating. I know how to push through pain, I should be so excited…I’m about to qualify for Boston, mind over matter…these were the only thoughts I could use to make my body keep going.
I rounded the final corner of mile 25, and I spotted both the mile 26 marker and the finish line. At this point though, my desperate running was only focused on finishing. I wanted nothing more than to be done—this desire had officially overwhelmed both my body and my brain, and although I was still within reach of a 3:35 finish time, all I could attempt to do was finish.
I was hunched over at this point, the picture of physical exhaustion, and all at once, just before I crossed the mile 26 marker, I collapsed.
My legs had given out and they crumpled beneath me. I tried desperately to get up, over and over, but I couldn’t even get halfway up without completely falling over again. In my head I thought, “No, no…not now, not when I’m so close!” but I was also in a panic for help. There weren’t too many runners around me, and I was just far enough away from the finish that there weren’t any spectators or volunteers near me. My brain was so warped and my body was so overheated that I could barely managed to look around, let alone call out for help. All at once, though, two half-marathon finishers stopped their race and offered to help. I pleaded for them to go on and finish their races, but instead they so graciously took me on either side of them and carried me.
I am a bit fuzzy on the memories of exactly how everything afterward went. I remember the woman who picked me up feeding me a chocolate GU, which I definitely did not want, but she insisted (understandably…since I was so decrepit at that point) and I remember insisting that they let me walk over the finish line myself. They had to essentially carry me, since I was unable to put any weight on my legs, and eventually a few volunteers caught wind of what was going on and ran over to help out.
From the sidelines (where Corey, BF, and my friend Kawika were standing), they saw that the Medical Director had been alerted that someone needed attention. As soon as they saw it was me, BF jumped over the barrier, and ran over to me as well (a miraculous feat, given he had incredibly tired half-marathon legs himself). Unfortunately, I actually don’t remember this—but apparently I was very gracious, insistent upon crossing the finish line myself, and I said it was okay to take pictures (hey, perhaps my good humor doesn’t entirely disappear when my physical capabilities do). With hoards of people around me as we got to the finish line, they let me down to walk about three steps over the actual line, and I was immediately picked up by the Medical Director and taken to the medical tent.
The next several minutes are a big blur, but I remember a lot of doctors around me, while I was laying on a table, taking my vitals, putting an IV in me, and asking me questions. I wasn’t really able to talk, so they were mainly talking to me, telling me I would be okay and instructing me on what they needed to do. They took my temperature (rectally, which was awesome…except that I didn’t really care at the time) and my temperature was at 105.
At this point, I regained some consciousness, and I was very scared. I repeatedly asked them if I was going to be okay, and they assured me I would, but I needed to be cooled down immediately. They lifted me, very gingerly since my muscles were cramping so badly, and completely immersed me in a huge ice bath. I regained a lot of sensation at this point, and the ice bath felt so amazingly good. They covered every part of me with ice, ensuring I would cool down, and they started asking me questions to gauge my mental state. I was able to answer all their questions coherently (for which I was proud of myself) and they let BF come in to be with me. My left hamstring and my right calf were cramping so badly, and two people had to continually clench and massage them to make the seizing stop. I was completely unable to move my legs without my muscles clenching, and I remember this being the most painful part.
They kept me in the bath for a while, making sure that my core temperature was dropping, and I began to be coherent enough to ask BF how his race went. He ran a 1:47…and despite my current state of being, I was (and am) SO proud of him! The doctors kept asking me questions and letting me know I’d be okay, and at some point while I was still in the ice bath I became stable enough that my emotions got the best of me. I burst into tears, completely overwhelmed with everything, and mainly concerned for the state of my running career. I said out loud, “What if I never want to run a marathon again? What if I’m done forever?” which was a paralyzing fear, despite the fact that I had just been chewed up and spit out by the marathon. BF…in all his logical and rational thinking…said, “Babe, if you are saying ‘What if?’ at this point in time, I think it’s safe to say you’ll be fine.”
Eventually, I got myself together, and the doctors were able to carefully hoist me out of the bath. My legs continued to cramp pretty violently, and they had to keep my legs lifted at a 90 degree angle to drain the blood. They took my temperature again, and I was down to 101…which they seemed very impressed by. I felt very feverish, and the thought of sitting up was very daunting. They eventually began giving me Gatorade, which was sitting fine, and they took it as a good sign. Eventually, they very slowly hoisted me up so I was sitting up-right on the table. I felt dizzy and flu-like, but definitely much better.
Slowly but surely (and because this detailing is getting a bit long), I was able to get up walk very slowly. I was absolutely freezing, given the fact that my clothes were soaking wet and I had just been in ice-cold water (and just ran a marathon), and they took me outside with a space blanket to warm up. I was able to meet up with my group at this point, and eventually I regained both my cognitive and (limited) physical abilities. The mustache pacer actually came by as well, as he’d seen the less-than-glorious finish, to check and see how I was doing. The doctors told me that I had to pee before they would let me go (which I accomplished) and we were allowed to leave.
From entering the medical tent to leaving, it took approximately an hour, and by the time we were allowed to leave all I wanted to do was changed my clothes, warm up, and sleep.
Afterward, everything was somewhat post-race standard. I was able to congratulate some of my fellow marathoners, we got a big farm breakfast, and I spent the afternoon laying on the couch. Unfortunately, I was not left with the accomplished, satisfying feeling of finishing a marathon. After my first marathon, I was on a high of feeling so happy and proud of myself, and despite the fact that I did finish this race…the aftermath took away from the whole “I finished a marathon” experience. I felt a whole range of emotions, but primarily I felt grateful and scared. I cannot express how thankful I am that such a thing happened so close to the finish line and there were people around to help. I can’t imagine what would have happened if this had occurred any earlier. I was blown away by how helpful the volunteers, the runners that picked me up, the medical staff, and “my people” were through this whole thing. I tried to thank them all as much as I could, and I wish I could fully express just how gracious and humbled I am to have had such incredible support.
Like nothing happened, right?
After assuring my family that everything was okay, the only feeling I could really feel was exhausted. Marathon exhausted, certainly, but mainly emotionally and physically drained from the whole experience. Unfortunately, I wasn’t actually able to sleep as well as I’d hoped last night—my heart rate was still a bit high, and I was unable to rifle through all the different thoughts going through my head.
Today, despite my very sore legs and general fatigue, I feel much better. Like I said, I can’t really begin to articulate how this experience has affected me—because it all hasn’t really processed yet. I feel a combination of embarrassment, fear, shock, and stupidity. I can’t really help but be critical of myself, for running such a physically demanding race at the rate I was and for not obeying the demands of my body. I believe this feeling will go away—because honestly, I know that I am exactly the type of runner that this would happen to. My brain was stronger than my body, which most of the time is a great strength, but this time it got the best of me.
I will post later on my feelings following this whole experience, once they’ve all sunk in a bit more, but at this point I can say this: I know how it feels to push to the absolute furthest points of my limits, and there is not one more ounce of stamina or mental toughness I could have given into that race. Unfortunately, I was over my limits—and despite my will to keep trying, my body’s resistance finally overcame my mental determination.
I am sure I will take more away from this experience than I can actually wrap my head around, but for now I am going to let some rest, reflection, and recuperation help rebuild both my mental and physical strength.
And if you were curious, my official finish time was just over 3:44…three minutes faster than my first marathon. I find this humorous, and although this is a PR, I do think it should have a big fat asterisk next to it. Also, somehow in the midst of my collapse and being picked up…I managed to stop my watch at 3:33, meaning that had I been able to keep going, I’m pretty sure I would have been able to pull it out. Am I disappointed? Sure. But I also know that there was really nothing more I could have done…and I’m actually comforted in knowing that I was right there, and had the course been more forgiving, there is no question I would have had it.
Still got my medal! And it has a bottle opener on it…awesome.
So, there you are. A very long, detailed explanation of one of the more intense experiences I’ve ever had in my life. Out of all the scenarios that could have happened yesterday, this occurrence never even crossed my mind, and although I know these collapses can happen…I never imagined it would happen to me. I can assure you though that I am feeling better, I am going to continue to take care of myself, and I have no doubt that the lessons I draw from this experience will eventually make me a much stronger and prepared runner. That is, of course, when running doesn’t sound like the most painful thing on Earth.
Thank you for reading and for everyone’s unbelievable support. Congratulations to BF for his PR, and to all the runners who raced yesterday! Tacoma was without a doubt the hardest course I’ve ever competed on, and I admire every single one of you for taking it on.
Lastly, despite the shock and the drama that occurred at the end of this race, I have no doubt that the things I will take away will be more influential and more beneficial than any BQ or goal time could ever give me. And mark my words, the marathon may have scared the crap out of me yesterday…but I am nowhere near done with it.
I hope you all have had pleasant weeks and are ready for the weekend. This week has seen a lot of ups and downs for me—mostly ups, but there were some dark spots in there, and I’m happy to say I think I’ve managed to scuttle away from them. (But don’t let the Taper Beast hear that, one whiff of calmness and he barges back in full force.) So I’m still treading lightly, paying attention to my actions and reactions, but I’m hoping I’ve exited the Crazy Land of Taper-dom and can continue merrily on my way through Nerve City and Psyched Up Forest. Both of these places, though still filled with a good deal of angst and stomach butterflies, are much more do-able than Crazy Land.
I am nervous, there is no doubt about it. I have to very deliberately and consciously get myself to focus on anything other than race day. My thoughts are consumed by race strategy, fueling, avoiding chafing, and making it through without my knee exploding. My knee is much better than when bursitis struck before, and I am confident that I can race on it, however 26.2 miles is a long way for healthy body parts, so needless to say, I’m wary for my persnickety bursa sack. Lots of stretching, icing, and Aleve-ing before then.
In other news, I SUCK at dress rehearsal runs. Apparently all my pacing abilities (limited to begin with) go completely AWOL when I’m tapering, and the whole “GO SLOW” mantra that everyone preaches so vehemently actually registers as “Go ahead and run 30 seconds faster than your GMP.” Yesterday’s 4 mile run would have looked superb in an official race, let’s just say.
Whoops. Maybe I should get a Garmin after all.
For those of you who don’t know, a dress rehearsal run is exactly like a stage dress rehearsal…you gear up in everything you’ll wear on race day to ensure nothing rubs wrong or fits weird, but mainly I think its psychological benefits are the greatest. This run got me pumped big time, and it felt good to be running in my race day attire. Also, it just felt good to be running.
BUT. The good news about this way-too-fast-taper-fail run was that it showed just how many energy reserves I’m garnering. This whole “resting” thing is actually, physiologically benefiting big time, and despite my better efforts to just rid myself of all this lovely rest yesterday, I’m hoping that this is a good sign for how I’ll feel on race day.
The weather report looks superb for Sunday so far, and now commences the time to start carb-filling and hydrating like a serious person.
Moving on, today is Friday, meaning that Friday Favorites is typically the name of the game. As I’ve done a few times, I’m going to switch Friday Favorites to recollecting some of the things I’m thankful for. This week has been filled with a lot of excitement and charged energy, and although some of it can get overwhelming, ultimately I am unbelievably grateful for it all. Many thanks to Ali for reminding us all weekly to give thanks.
And now…GRATITUDE!
I am thankful for boxes of cookies.
Time between opening package and stuffing face with cookie: .7 seconds.
Last week, my beloved friend Katie—who moved to Missoula last year and I miss TERRIBLY—sent me this glorious package of her chocolate cookies for my birthday. Now, unless you have tried these cookies, you cannot fully begin to appreciate a)how big of a deal it was to receive them and b)how kind it really was for her to send them.
These cookies ARE THE BEST. Katie has some crazy secret recipe that she has worked and reworked and the result are the most chewy, buttery, chocolatey, and I-don’t-care-how-bad-these-are-for-me cookies EVER. I lose all sense of fullness, health, and really general sense of reality when these cookies are around, and they have made up the majority of my diet since they arrived. KT, you are the best.
I am thankful for huge great danes.
WARNING: Creepy female dog photographer, stalking puppies all over West Seattle.
I am kind of afraid of great danes, but I kind of love them too. They are as large as a small pony, and it seems like they have been everywhere recently. BF, who is a big dog fanatic, is obsessed (and may have recently bought a book called Giant George which is about a 245 pound great dane who needs his own size queen bed), and recently I’ve jumped on the bandwagon. I’m not sure about owning one, but I really enjoy seeing great danes taking their owners on walks all over the place.
I am thankful for the ability to go and visit my family.
I really, really love whenever I get to go see my family. We laugh a lot, we play games, we eat, we watch Jeopardy, and we love each other. It’s a great treat to be able to go home, and I’m very thankful that I have the means and the time to be able to jet off to Colorado every so often. My next trip will be for baby boy’s graduation (sorry Scott, you will never shed that nickname), and I can’t wait. If anyone was every ready for college, it’s my brother, and not only can I not wait for him to experience college, but he’ll be going to Seattle U…a mere 10 minutes from me!! Get ready Scott, you probably won’t make any real friends.
“Sorry guys, my sister is taking me somewhere again and I can’t go to the party.”
That’s totally how it’s gonna happen.
I am thankful for people who will touch feet.
I know you are SO GLAD you have now seen my feet. Can you guess which toenail is actually completely black?
That sounded weird. And truth be told, I actually don’t have the foot paranoia that so many claim to have. But, that doesn’t mean I would ever give a stranger—or even someone I know—a pedicure. And I especially would never give myself a pedicure. I’m scared of my own feet, and I go to all the lengths I can to avoid people looking at my feet. Not only do I naturally have Fred Flintstone-width feet and awkwardly shaped pinkie toes, but the damage done to my toenails from running is somewhat horrifying. As I’ve said before, two of my toenails are close to falling off, and just about every other toe has either a blister or a callous. It’s sexy.
Moving on. I never get pedicures, literally ever, except for right before big races. For some reason back when I ran my first half, I decided to randomly get a pedicure during the week before. Since then, I’ve gotten my toes done before every big race—and it’s a tradition I am mighty pleased with. This marathon taper time was no different, and I got to spend an hour getting clipped, rubbed, painted, and all that fun girlie toe stuff. The woman, despite not saying ONE word to me the entire time, did a fantastic job, and she handled my mangled foots without a blink. Oh, and she had to use TWO extra coats on my black toenails. Literally doubled the amount of color on each. But a job well done, and I am thankful for her.
Wow that was a lot of talk about feet.
I am thankful for Nuun, Aleve, my foam roller, and Yoga On Demand.
All of these things are helping to soothe, both mentally and physically, my angst about the race on Sunday. Sure, I know I’ve done the training and I know there really isn’t anything more I can do to get ready. But the fact that I can count on each of these things to help me feel better prepared, rested, hydrated, etc. is keeping my nerves at bay.
I am thankful for the weather report for race day.
cmoooonnnnnnn Sunday!
I realize I just 100% jinxed the crap out of the happy-sunny forecast, but let’s hope for the best still. As you could probably guess, the weather in Seattle is not exactly dependable…and so everyone, not just runners, treat the forecast like a toddler. They watch it like a hawk, they talk about it with anyone and everyone, and they can be equally irritated and giddy over it within an hour time frame. So, needless to say, I’ve been in full-fledged weather-stalking mode, and as of right now it’s looking pretty ideal. I actually have yet to run a long race in sunny weather (isn’t that nuts?) so I’m hoping for a first this time around.
I am thankful for free cake.
complimentary white chocolate mousse cake + candle=happy birthday girl!
I am thankful that no matter what happens on Sunday, there will be a Lakers vs. Nuggets game and pizza afterwards.
I’m sorry….no matter what you think about the Lakers or basketball, this is adorable.
I might completely blow up on Sunday, or I might exceed all my expectations. I really don’t know, a lot can happen over 26.2 miles, and sometimes no matter how much prep work you put in, things don’t pan out right. I’m prepared for this (and in case I do blow up and cry for weeks afterward, remind me that I said this ahead of time). However, I am thankful for pre-planning. Specifically food pre-planning—and one thing is for sure that PR or no PR, there will be ample pizza and beer consumption on Sunday night, as well as a viewing of the Lakers winning Game 4 of the playoffs versus the Nuggets, after which I laugh in BF’s face a friendly basketball game between two teams that BF and I happen to heavily separately favor.
I am thankful that I have the opportunity to run a marathon.
I talk a lot about time goals and PR goals and BQing a lot, but when all is said and done—more than anything all I want to do is run. I am so grateful to have the ability to run, and to run 26.2 miles, no matter how fast or slow it might be. After experiencing an injury scare earlier in this training season and reading all about so many bloggers out there that are currently sidelined by injury, my perspective has become a lot more appreciative and humbled.
If you would have told me 2 years ago that I would be running my second marathon on Sunday, I would never have believed you. We all know how that story actually ends, and in two days all the hours and weeks of preparation will come to a 3:xx:xx hour finale. There are some very definite times that I have associated with “I would love to get (this),” “I would be alright getting (this),” and “I guess I’ll be able to live with (this).” However, when all is said and done, Sunday is just another day I get to run…and that, despite any PR or not, is something I am very thankful for.
And finally, I am thankful for my readers, my family, and my friends who have and continue to support me through the whole training process:
You all inspire me every day, and you all have provided me with so much strength, encouragement, and guidance in both running and life. The people I surround myself with, including those in the blog world, are so much of the reason I am able to continue running, writing, and believing in myself, and I could not be more thankful for everyone of you.
Alright, now that I’ve gotten sappy, let’s end on a bit more of a practical note, shall we?
I have been incredibly allusive and non-disclosing about my time goals for this race. And why? Well, I get scared to say them out loud—because if they don’t happen, well that makes it all the more disappointing knowing that other people know I didn’t live up to my expectations. But, I realized that it’s not fair to share every ounce of my training and race information with you without giving you the dirty time details.
So, if you care to know…here’s my plan for Sunday. There are two pacers I have my eye on. 3:40 and 3:35. If all goes well, I am going to stick near the 3:40 pacer for the first half. If I’m up for it and feeling alright, I’m planning on chasing down the 3:35 pacer after mile 13. We’ll see what happens…perhaps something entirely different…but for now that is my race plan.
I promise I’ll stop typing now…and if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading, and have yourself a glorious weekend, and I’ll see you on the other side of 26.2 miles!!
Run Birdie Run 