So, with those goals in mind, and trying not to overload myself with too much and too many different types of goals, I’ve made (what I think is) a pretty darn well planned 2012 racing schedge.  Nothing more longer than 13.1 or 70.3 and nothing too jammed together (and the fall to be filled out with some B/C races)

• 01/22/12: Dog Gone Cold 5K (C) (goal: top 3 OA dogs)
• 01/29/12: Miami Half Marathon (B) (goal: sub 1:48ish)
• 02/18/12: Tundra Time Trial (C)
• 03/03/12: Snickers Half Marathon (A Race) (r)(goal: sub 1:40)
• 04/22/12: Zooma Atlanta Half Marathon (C)
• 04/28/12: Twilight Criterium (C) (goal: not crash and die)
• 05/20/12: Atlanta Irongirl Tri (B)
• 06/10/12: Eagleman Aquavelo (A Race) (r) (goal: sub 2:40 bike)
• 07/21/12: Mistletoe Sprint Tri
• 09/30/12: Augusta 70.3 (A Race) (goal: 5:00, 2:30 bike)
• 11/18/12: Philadelphia Half Marathon (A Race) (goal: sub 1:37)
• 12/??/12: Celtic Solstice 5-miler (A race) (goal: sub 36min)

Oh and the beyond part…2013, a return to the IM…IMFL

I walk out my door last Friday morning to find this:

I stood up my training partner and he leaves this. Best. Training. Partner. Ever.

I’ve named my friend Max. And he’s still out there on my sidewalk to remember to smile every day when I leave for work. Usually I forget soon after I arrive at work. But still, at least a few smiles in the day!

So, I was already planning on posting about my playlist for the marathon (the post about ipod v no ipod can be another day…because, screw it, I’m ipoding it during the race…), and then one of my formspring questions was: “top 5 musicians/bands . . . go!” And figured, what a great joint post.  Yes.  (also, note, I’m totally enjoying the questions.  They’ll all get answered!  Promise. )

Well, My favorite bands/muscicians are kinda embarassing.  But, I don’t claim to like “good” music.  I claim to like happy music.  I’m the queen of guilty pleasure music.

1. Abba (Happiest music.  Ever.)
2. Queen (Need I explain?)
3. Mika (A combination of Abba and Queen.  Seriously?  My dream musician)
4. Michael Buble’ (Because, who doesn’t like an adorable, single, present day, crooner?)
5. And, currently, Lady Gaga (I reserve this 5th spot for the passing fad musician.)

So, moving on to my marathon music and my marathon plan. My marathon playlists are very deliberately crafted…and can take hours and hours to make.  There are “stages” of music (which match my race plans):

Pre-race: Mellow. It’s just what it sounds like.  I try not to waste energy on being hyped up, so I use a lot of the music I would use for yoga classes.  Just zen…trying to let the external distractions fall away.

Mile 1-3: Chill. There is such a tendancy to go out way too hard…and well, I mentally don’t do well when I hit it hard and start to fade.  So, I have some more relaxed music to remind me to just “relax” into the first few miles.  The first few should feel eeeeeeasy.  I’m just settling into the pace.

Mile 4-13.1: Happy. My “happy” runs are my best runs.  Where it feels effortless, bouncy and happy.  That is what I’m going for in this chunk of the race…so the music mimics that, happy, bouncy, light.  And, yes, this includes Miley Cyrus, numbers from musicals, and songs from Disney soundtracks.  Don’t knock it until you try it.  But, for the rest of the first half of the race, I’m just enjoying it.  Or trying to enjoy it.  I don’t want to waste my mental energy (or physical energy just yet).

Mile 13.1-20: Tough. This is where you start to doubt yourself.  I always need to remind myself how tough I am.  So, the music turns to harsher beats.  More deliberate messages to listen to, lyrics that I can channel and stay tough and moving forward. (e.g. Feelin Alright by Joe Crocker or Stronger by Kanye)

Mile 21-25: Angry. These are the miles that HURT.  I have to get angry to push through it.  I think of crap that makes me angry and I listen to angry rock music and and I push.  I push hard through those miles.

Mile 25-26.2: Balls to the wall. At this point I’m just pushing as hard as I can and probably won’t even be noticing the music anyway.

Ok, so sorry I’ve been a bit MIA lately, I’m battling getting sick, so I’ve been sleeping and drinking lots of water, hoping to get better before the marathon.  But, it appears I’ll just be running the race sick…in thunderstorms. :-/

But, folks, I’ll be back full force on Monday.  If you want to stalk me during the marathon, because who wouldn’t…my bib number is #384 and you can get race day updates here.

And, what’s your favorite running song?

5K race reports are pretty amazing.  Soooo much quicker than all these marathon and tri RRs I’ve been doing.

This 5K is at the local YMCA and it’s a race I’ve run every Thanksgiving that I’m home since I was 13ish.  So, since I was finally home for T-giving for the first time since college, I knew I had to run the race even though this is technically my two-week “off-season.”  It’s a fun race because I always see peeps I know including many of my former high school cross country and track teammates.  Plus, it’s always fun to go out and see all the cute little current runners on the THS cross country team in their uniforms.

Anyway, so I was, as written last night, hoping for a PR, in the 22s.  But, sadly, that wasn’t to happen today.

Turkey Trot 5K Stats:

• Time: 23:07
• Distance: 5K
• Avg Pace: 7:26
• Overall: 122/1234
• Gender: 16/600
• Division(F19-29): 8/250
• Splits: 6:53/7:49/7:44/6:20
• Avg HR: 192
• Max HR: 203 (?!?!?!)

Ok, in my defense, those splits are not as wildly erratic as they may seem at first glance.  While I did go out too fast, the first mile is mostly downhill and the second mile is all uphill…and the third mile is rolling hills.  But, really, this is a mad hilly course.  I’m ok with this race (not really disappointed but not really happy either); which is actually an odd reaction given that it is, for all intents and purposes, an “adult” PR (i.e. fastest 5K since I have been post-pubescent).  I’m mostly not ecstatic because I feel that I could have run a faster race if I had been a little smarter.  But, c’est la vie, and for my first 5K in a long time…and without very much speedwork over this past year, it’s not a bad race.

But, here is how the race went: Mile 1: Stuck behind a whole lot of slow walkers, so I had to dodge in and out of the crowd for the first quarter mile.  It took me that long to build up any kind of speed.  By the time I broke free from the crowd, the course was headed downhill and I strided out, allowing gravity to do the work and got my speed up to under 7min/mile. Mile 2: Starts uphill…and long ugly uphills.  And, it starts hurting.  I wonder why all of my hilly running in Augusta hasn’t helped me run these hills better.  I sloooow down.  And at one point, I get a little discouraged and walk (wtf?  in a 5K?  I didn’t walk one step when I ran the Augusta Half when I was running nearly as fast for 13.1mi).  Mile 3:  Ah, yes!  We are almost done!  I come up on a mother and son running together.  The son can’t be more than 8 years old and he’s wearing this Boston Marathon finisher jacket that is way too big for him and is clearly his mothers.  It was such a cute sight that I actually got distracted from the pain some.  So, I just try to keep the pace below 8min/miles, knowing that I probably won’t break 23min and just want to finish at this point and get on with my “off-season.”  I had enough to pick up the pace to under 7min/mile for that last .1 of a mile.

But, had I known I was sooooo close to breaking 23min, I may have pushed harder in mile 3.  I think, like Philly, my mind gets in the way.  I feel the pain of the race and think, oh you can’t keep at this, slow down…stop… And, really I’m not sure if that’s true at all.  I think I could have pushed harder.  And I would have been ok.  The pain is temporary.

And now, a justification for declaring this time a PR:

The last time I ran under 23:00, I was 16 and 115ish lbs.  I am now 26 and…well…a whole heck of a lot more than 116lbs (as I should be).  But here’s the thing, my 5K PRs when I was that light and young were under 22mins.  And those PRs are nearly a decade old (and will be in Mar).  So, that begs the question, at what time do you determine a PR to be so old that it’s not even really applicable as a reference point?  And, I think, nearly a decade is a pretty large time period over which to be comparing race times.  So, I’m making an executive, declaring this race a new PR.  That way, I have a better comparison point for improvement than a PR set when I was a twig.

Finally, please take a note about my HRs.  Those ridic high rates are WILDLY out of character for me.  I think it is a sign that I need some time off.  There is a big connection between physical burnout and rises in resting and exertion heart rates.  And, I’m going to read my 200+ HR to be a sign that I need a break.

On another note, I really hope that when I’m a grownup with my own family, that well all go and do these races together.  I loved seeing that mom and little boy run together.  Anytime I see a little kid running these fun runs with a parent, it makes me want to be that parent.  I also love seeing an entire family come out and race together.  My old neighbors always come out and run, which is fun because one of the daughters and I ran on a relay team together that was one of the top in the state my senior year.  She always beats me now….I credit that to her being a long distance runner and me being a middle distance runner…:)  I was always a miler or less.  But, Mom, Dad, and the four kids are always out there running.  Even now that all the kids are out of college, they all get up and run it in Thanksgiving morning.

My daddy usually will come with me, but really it’s always just me running…and sadly today, I was one my own totally, as Daddy prepared the Turkey at home.  And it’s not bad, I mean I knew other people there.  But, I do wish sometimes that I could recruit more people out…even if its just to walk the 5K (or the 5miler TT that I do when we are in NC for the holiday).  Perhaps, I’m just aching for someone to go to all these races with, especially since it’s such a big part of my life.  That said, I  am thankful that I am able to run.  period.  even if I’m running by myself.

Lets start out with this: I was registered for the full marathon in Philly.  Originally, it was my “goal marathon” of the season.  I was going to run Chicago to see what a marathon is like, and then I’d run Philly to qualify for Boston if I didn’t in Chicago.  But, I BQed in Chicago and was left with the big question: what now?  In all honesty, I didn’t expect to qualify in Chicago, so I always figured I would run Philly to BQ.  I was left feeling exhilarated by a great race and scared that I would never be able to race like that again.  Because of that fear, I put a lot of pressure on myself to train hard and race harder.  After another good race at the Augusta Half Marathon,   I burned out a little.  I considered running the half at Philly; I considered not running anything at Philly.

After three weeks of running twice a week, and no run longer than 7 miles, I thought, heck, I can run the full marathon.

And, that was the intention I had when I left Baltimore.

But, that’s not so much what happened.

I got to the start line, and as I discussed in part 1, I forewent (foregoed?) starting with the 3:30 pg.  We walked up to the start line and took off:

One of those blurry orange blobs is me, I think.

Full Stats:

• Miles: 13.1
• Time: 1:46:44
• Pace: 8:08.4
• Overall: 937/7187
• Gender: 336/4654
• Division: 92/1049

First 10K: 49:19//7:51/7:47/7:50/8:05/7:57/7:52

I was hunggggggry at the start line.  The delish bagel from panera was not enough.  Crap.  That’s why I usually do PB with the carbies.  The fat and protein hold you over.  So, I start off, with a hungry belly.  I try to be mellow into the beginning of any race because hitting a wall is awful.  But, as I start out, I think to myself, I think I started out in the 7min/mile range in Chicago and that was totally fine.  And this is a faaaaassssst course, I will totally be fine.

So, I refuse to allow myself to run 8min/miles+.

I’m trotting along, and this is not hurting tooooo bad.  I’m so going to beat 3:30.  yessss.

But then…there start being hills.  Wtf?  I thought this course was flat and fast.  I even looked at the elevation chart before the race and it appeared to be a pretty flat course sans hills.  But, these hills appeared.  And there didn’t seem to be any hills at all.  And the course should be downhill and flat.

The hills hit me hard.  Not physically so much as mentally.  I got mad.  I seriously got mad.  At everyone.  And everything.  And the hills.  And so much at the freaking geography and geology that created said hills.

I got mad and I said “F this.”  Why am I doing this? I’m uber mature.  Seriously.  I think this is the point where I mentally gave up.  I gave up because I was mad that there were f-ing hills.

Second Half: 8:02/8:20/8:02/9:03 (!!!!!!!)/8:20/8:20/7:59/7:23

Ok, so you can see where it starts going downhill?

I saw my dad at the 10K mark and was already wondering if I was going to want to run the full.  But, I was still determined to see if I could keep up the pace.  If I could keep on about an 8:00, I would beat 3:30!  But.  Mile 8.  Mile 8 happened.  And I couldn’t keep it up anymore.

I got my first side stitch in a race.  Heck, it was the first side stitch I’ve had since I was about 8.  I told myself to just relax and breath deeply, and the stitch would resolve itself.  But it didn’t.  And I had trouble breathing deeply because it hurt so badly.

And then, as we approached the Philly Zoo, we hit a real hill.  And I walked.  Oh, the horror! (do you see the 9:00 mile?!?!).  But, fortunately, this helped the side stitch.  And I was able to run side stitch free for the rest of the run.  But, I had decided at this point, I’m done.  And I’m only doing the half marathon.

I was mad at the hill.  I was mad at myself for going out so hard.  I was mad at myself for being mentally weak.

And, I just couldn’t do it for another 16 more miles.  It wasn’t even the physical part that was so bad (though, it was pretty bad.  I had hit a rough rough wall).  The mental was awful.  The constant hating the race.  And hating myself for hating the race.  And hating myself for hating the race and giving up because of that.

I ran out the last 3 miles trying to keep up the pace, but my legs were so heavy.

And, so what have we learned?

I finished.  And it wasn’t a PR.  And it wasn’t the most brilliant race performance.  And it wasn’t even a fun race.  But, I learned that I need to work on my mental game.  And I should never start out a race thinking that I don’t have to run the full if I don’t want to.  Because honestly, are you ever going to want to?  I’m newly energized to change up my game and train hard next year.

Stay tuned for the season recap…and the newly solidified 2010 race and training plan.

Highlights of the Race:  Someone dressed up as Ben Franklin; The back of a runner’s shirt that said “Relax, neither of us if going to win,” stopping running

My Daddy and I left Baltimore to drive up to Philly Saturday afternoon, made it into town at four-ish.  We went to the expo, picked up my packet and all that and then headed to a little market to grab dinner before going home. I had a greek veggie wrap (I’ll eat anything made as a vehicle for tzatziki sauce…again, I’m Greek.) and a Birch Beer.

I was exhausted, so I laid out my things, before going to bed at 8pm.

I had gotten my marathon nutrition out (I rarely bring GUs with me for a full marathon)…3 gels: Espresso Love GU, Chocolate Power Gel, Vanilla Gingerbread GU (thanks Noah!)

I woke up at 4:45am, and ate 2/3 of a cinnamon crunch bagel from Panera.  Brought PB but didn’t use it.  This would later come back to bite me in the arse.  Got dressed:

Don’t judge.  I know I look ridic and like heck.  But, please, make a mental note of the color of sweatpants that I’m about to pull up over my skirt.

But then, we left to go to the course at 5:15.  At this point, I really wished I had booked a hotel within walking distance from the start like I had in Chicago.  But, anyway,  we packed up the car.  The leftover cups from our dinner drinks were still in the cupholders of the car; unfortch, my dad and I had picked up brown flavored water as a coffee-a-like in the hotel lobby.  As an environmentalist, I was not just going to dump the cups out on the side of the car so that I could stick the to-go coffee cups in the cupholders.  So, I nestled my little cup of disgustingness and caffeine in between my legs and stuck my father’s on the middle console, thinking “surely, he won’t knock this over when he get’s in the car.”

If I should have learned any lesson over my lifetime, it really should be that anytime I think “surely…blah blah blah” I will be wrong.

And I was.

My dad got in the car and swung his arm back onto the console without looking.  And I flipped out to save his cup (because my father is ridonk anal retentive about car cleanliness, am I not right, sister?).  And I saved his cup from spilling.  But in that effort, I knocked my cup, which was so happily nestled safely between my legs, into my lap.  And holy heck.  It was HOT.  I think I gave myself first degree burns on my inner thighs.  And my throw away sweatpants were soaked in coffee.

Here’s the real ironic part.  Those sweatpants were purchased at the college where I took the LSAT after I spilled juice in my lap 20 minutes before exam time.  I refused to take the LSAT with wet pants.  So I went and bought those sweatpants at the last minute.  Apparently, I just need to learn how to stop spilling stuff in my lap.

Fortunately, I brought two pairs of throwaway sweatpants, and changed into those sweatpants while my running skirt dried (it did eventually…)

So, then it was time for a pre-race photo shoot with daddy:

(See the black sweatpants?  Different color from before…) Ok, any musical lovers get this reference???  My mother requested this sign.)

And in the tradition of marathon weekend photoshoots (see e.g. Chicago), I had to get one of me pointing at something.

Then, we parted ways, I made it to my corral (I was seeded with the 3:30-3:40 marathoners) and looked around for the 3:30 pg.  The group was on the other side of the road from where my Dad would be standing at the start, so I figured I would meet up with them later.  This turned out to be a fatal mistake…

And today, ladies and gents, we discuss the dreaded “B word”

I’ve been battling whether it’s true or not, but I think after this weekend, it is blatantly obvious that I have contracted a bad case of the burnouts. I read an article by Jeff Galloway, who suggests asking yourself the following questions:

Burnout Quiz: A “yes” to any of these questions means you may need a boost (see below for remedies)

1. Are you unmotivated to run on 2 or more days per week? YES…in fact i have no motivation to run. ever. anymore.
2. After most runs these days, do you feel less satisfied than you had been feeling during the previous 1 to 3 months? always
3. When you run a good time in a race, do you skip past the enjoyment of your achievement and immediately project ahead to your next goal? i completely skipped the BQ excitement for focus on a 3:20 mary
4. When you run longer than usual, does it give you very little or no sense of achievement? none.
5. When you have a bad run, or a bad race, do you feel discouraged and defeated for several days or more? how about discouraged all of the time
6. Do you often find yourself looking for excuses to stop a run early? my shoelaces are untied?! guess i have to stop now.

I answered yes to each and everyone of those questions…it’s pretty obvious when i have absolutely no desire to run (except that i know i should be running and scared that i will get slow and fat if i don’t run) that i’m facing a little of something mental going on.

But, i don’t think the gravity of the situation has been made evident to my readers.  Like.  i don’t think i would go out and run if my life depended on it.  i just do not want to.  and i’m dreading next year now because i have this full ironman that i registered for and frigg, i don’t even want to run one mile.

i’m not sure why or when it set in and I’ve spent the day trying to figure that out.

So the three main potential culprits are:

Overracing

I have been in “race mode” since May…and in major race mode since September.  I had the Half Ironman 9/27, the Chicago Marathon two weeks later, the Augusta Half-marathon 3 weeks after that…and now, i’m facing down the Philly Marathon three weeks after that.  These four major distance events are piled all on top of each other.  If I could race for fun (and not for time) then it wouldn’t be a problem.

But I’m so stressed out about PRs everytime I race, it’s no fun anymore.  Because I’m setting myself up for failure.  Because, I can’t always improve.

And, my problem is…if I’m not going to do well, I don’t want to do it (I know I know…not a good attitude).  But I set these insanely high expectations of my races.

Overtraining

there definitely isn’t an overtraining problem based on volume…because i’m at like 10miles a week and nothing else right now…BUT…i put a lot of pressure on myself with each run.  every run is at tempo pace (8:00-8:20min/mil) and i can’t get myself to run easy.  because, if i’m not running hard, i’m not going to get better.  slow runs will make me slower.

the thing this, i SO KNOW that this is flawed.  that the way i train and run is not good.  i know it.  but i’m too scared of getting slower and fatter and oausgboasbnasf.  that…aosgubaosfbas…i just can’t stop.  (i’m super frustrated just thinking about this).

Goal satisfaction

there is also the theory that meeting a long time goal can bring about mental fatigue.  and i did that in Chicago.  i qualified for Boston, a goal i thought would be a long time in the getting.  so, here i am, without any real goals and lost without direction.

it’s a huge let down, actually.  i met the BQ goal and already started thinking about how i have to get my marathon time under 3:30.

i am pretty sure that overracing and overtraining both played a major part in my burnout.  so the question is what do i do?

• run the philly full?  or the half?
• not run at all in philly?
• take a two – four week running hiatus?
• only run a couple times a week?
• throw my running shoes in the garbage?
• punch the wall?

because, i for sure cannot be like this for much longer.  i’m so miserable…miserably unhappy that i find myself in this situation…miserably sad that i don’t have the oomph to get me going for the philly full…miserably scared that all of this non-running is going to make me get slow and fat…miserably frustrated that i can’t seem to make myself “snap out of it”.  i kinda just want to cry.  if i was able to cry, i would be.

so my 5 faithful readers: what to do?

The next couple of days in Chicago, Kell and I were certainly a sight to be seen.  Sunday, during the afternoon, was actually not too bad.  We hurt and were sore, but we were mobile.  And mobile enough to go get greasy food and make a stop to pick up cupcakes:and make a trip to Niketown on Michigan Ave to find out names on the giant Chicago Marathon posters…

and I found my name…I was quasi-hoping that it would be misspelled/mispronounced in some of the ways that happen at work (pinnochio, pelloply, penop…).  Sadly, they got my name perfectly right.  But, I was still excited to find myself:

Then we went in the niketown store to look for official Finishers gear.  I was convinced to get a customized finisher shirt to commemorate my BQ on my Birthday:After that, we had to say goodbye to Mags   and set out to try to fall asleep.  Man, if you had asked me before the race if I thought I would have any trouble falling asleep–I would have said, no way!  But, oh wow.  With all the marathon soreness setting in, it was nearly impossible to sleep, even with a great deal of wine to help the situation.  I think I slept maybe 4 hours–woke up at 5:30 am unable to go back to sleep and ended up watching 3 episodes of Dexter on my computer.

When Monday morning came around, I was very sad to discover that I could barely walk.  I kind of fell out of bed.  My knees were swollen and painful, my calves were tight, my ankles were sore…the one part of my body that was actually working was my tummy and I could not wait to EAT EAT EAT.  Kell and I tried to amble over to the West Egg Cafe for brekky, but were quite taken aback when we found out that we had to get down a long flight of stairs to get to the road with the restaurant.  Going downstairs was impossible.  It took us maybe 5 minutes to get down and we had to turn around and go down backwards.  It was a sight.  We decided that this was probably what it felt like to be old.  I don’t want to get old.

After gorging ourselves and having my third meal with guacamole in 12 hours, we went around for some shopping and sightseeing.  I forced Kell into the American Girl Store and proceeded to tell her the back stories of the three dolls I had growing up.  It’s actually kind of embarrassing how much detail I recall…We eventually made our way back home to the hotel because I was exhausted from not sleeping and from walking around.  We had a dinner date with a couple of our sorority sisters from college.  And it was my birthday.  Did I mention that?  IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY!  I’m actually not normally all excited for birthdays, and really didn’t celebrate from the time I was 14 to 24.  But this year, I was quite happy with the marathon and such so, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to me!  I got birthday brulee, it was delish.  I ate both:At the end, we walked home, went to bed…and woke up and had to pack up to go home.  I was seriously heartbroken to go home.  It was exactly what I needed: four days of amazing friends, lots of barrel laughs and reminiscing, a great race, and lots and lots of delish food.  I really don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I did in years.  It was kind of like being back in our soph year suite.

So, I really wish I could give more detail about the race, but honestly, I think I blacked out most of it.  I mean, I was looking around and thinking, but it was kind of the sensation of a floating head not really attached to the body that was going through all the pain (dissociation at its best.) But, since I know that everyone is waiting anxiously by they’re computers for the “RACE” portion of the race report, here goes nothing.

First: my splits: (Chip Time//5Ksplit//mile splits)

5K: 26:01//26:01//??, 7:17, ???

10K: 51:11//25:10// 7:57, 8:02, 8:01

15K: 1:16:06//24:55//8”07, 7:47, 7:56

20K: 1:41:34//25:28//7:58, 8:06, 7:57

25K: 2:07:20//25:46//8:23, 8:15, 8:16

30K: 2:33:23//26:03//8:25, 8:17, 8:17

35K: 2:59:18//25: 55//8:11, 8:16, 8:13

40K: 3:25:40//26:22// 8:18, 8:29, 8:25, 7:51

Finish: 3:36:57 (8:17min/mile)

I crossed the first start line about 6 minutes behind the gun time.  I tried to keep at an easy relaxed pace for most of it, just telling myself to ease up, loosen up and go with the flow.  At about the first half mile, I realized I had gotten a giant wedgie…and spent the next half mile pondering which was worse: blatantly picking the wedgie or running 25.7 mi with a wedgy. In the end I just kind of forgot about it till I finished, but it was an interesting decision to make.  Also, at about the first half mile you go under a tunnel (where I lost garmin reception…which messed up my distance and mile splits…).  I realized how much of an unfair advantage dudes have in a long long distance race.  Seriously, I saw at least 6 guys pull off the side of the road to whiz on the wall in the tunnel.  I can’t really do that.  I mean, I never had to stop and pee, but still…

At mile 1ish, I started getting warm, so I peeled off my gloves and hat and balled it up to throw to the side of the road…unfortunately throwing while running is not my forte and I nailed a guy on the sidelines in the face with my stuff…I yelled out “Sorry!” and then felt a poke in my back!  It was Kell!  She hadn’t seen me pass her, but she heard me yell!  I checked in with her quickly; just “how are you doing?” “good, you?” “good” “good” And then that was the last time I saw her until the end of the race.

I relaxed into a pace of about 8:09ish for the first chunk of the race.  My legs were still pretty cold and tight, but also pleasantly numb.  I planned on taking a gel about every 10K, so when I got to the 10K mark I pulled out one of the gels I’d stored in my shirt pocket.  Well, the gel was a cold almost frozenish mess.  It was impossible to get down…but I got as much of it down as possible and kept running.  At that point, I hadn’t taken water or Gatorade at any of the aid stations because I’m not good at running and drinking and I was afraid to walk through the aid stations for fear that I wouldn’t start running again.

After the 10K mark I saw some of my favorite signs (a kid holding one that said “Go Daddy Longlegs”) and my least favorite (“You get beer in 16 miles”—are you kidding me?  Do you know how long 16 miles is?  I wanted to get off to the side of the road and yell at that person for reminding me I still had 16 miles to go…)  For some reason I always really hate the signs that say “The pain is temporary, the pride is forever.”  But, I quite enjoyed the variation I saw that was: “Chafing is temporary, the pride is forever.”

By the 15K mark, I had caught up to the 3:45 pace group and passed them…I was on the lookout for the 3:40pg and hoped to catch them by the half-marathon. I also knew that Mags said she would be at the half marathon point, so that kept me going.  As I hit mile 12, I found the 3:40s and turned off my Ipod so that I could hear Mags if she was yelling.  As I ran with the 3:40s through the half way mark, I was looking around for Mags, but couldn’t find her.  I kept looking for her through to mile 14 when I gave up and figured I had missed her.  I was quite happy at the half marathon point because I had done a half-marathon pr (1:47) and my legs had finally started to warm up (but never really got warm).

The first 13.1 mi had flown by, but I knew the next 13.1 would be a little harder.  I knew that I was on BQ (boston qualifying) pace, but that if I slowed down at all, I would NEVER speed back up…my legs were too tight, cold, and heavy.  So, I tried to find things to distract me and keep my mind busy while the body moved forward.  I looked at all the puppies on the side of the course.  And thought about how much B would have LOVED being out there watching all the people.  And then I looked at all the bundled up babies.  I love a bundled up baby…you know when they are so bundled that it is impossible for them to move.  So cute.  Also, I enjoyed some spectators that had made giant pictures of racers faces on sticks.  I don’t know why, because typically disembodied life-size photo faces might be creepy, but in this context I was amused.

I also just broke down the distance…once I got to 16 miles, I just thought about the next 4, etc.  And really, I broke it down mile by mile.  Each time I hit the mile marker and I saw that I was under BQ pace, it kept me motivated to do the next mile in BQ pace too.  That’s not to say that I didn’t wonder often: why the heck am I putting myself in such pain just to put myself in pain again in Boston in April? I still have no answer to that one.

As I broke away from the 3:40 pace group at mile 16ish, I knew that since I had started about 2-3 minutes behind them, that I would definitely BQ if I just stayed ahead.  So that was my only goal from mile 16 onward.  Well, that and to finish.  I realized I had been barely drinking anything, so I walked through a few water stops to make sure I got stuff in me.  And I had stuck all my gels down my bra to warm them up so they weren’t frozen (gross, but oh so helpful), so I took more gel (I think 4 over the whole race).  At mile 19, a song that was very important to my roommates and I during our sophmore year of college came on my playlist.  Just having the craziness of Tunak Tunak Tun got me through that mile and remembering all the wonderful times that year with all my roomies kept me through mile 21…

Once I hit mile 20, things started to bother me.  We ran through Chinatown and it smelled like Chinese food and I had this wave of anger come over me for what seemed like taunting…go run 6 more miles, you can smell the food, but no eating for you.  And my mind started doing weird things, like, every time I saw them holding out the smeared Vaseline at the aid stations, I thought it was mashed bananas and had to, more than once, stop myself from taking a gob of Vaseline and eating it.  The only thing that kept me holding on in those last 6 miles was Melissa (didn’t know that was her name then)…but I just kind of happened to start running with this girl and we stuck together for the last 8ish miles.  The only talking we did was when she offered me a gu and some Gatorade and I, no doubt, responded with some unintelligible grunt.

At this point, I would just like to say that whoever designed the Chicago course has an evil streak to them…because after 26 miles of flat and fast course you turn the corner to get into Grant park with the last .2 miles and you have to RUN UP A HILL. Wtf?  Could you not have put that at the beginning?  But, fortunately all of my hilly runs in Augusta helped me and I strided up the hill passing people right and left.  I felt good enough to sprint on into the finish and crossed the line with a chip time of 3:36:57.  Boston Qualifying, baby.

As I crossed the finish line, Melissa turned to me and said “thank you!;” which was exactly what I was thinking.  But, what came out was: “I am never f***ing doing that again.”  And she laughed…and then I thanked her too.  Seriously, as I wondered through the finishers shoot trying not to topple over, I told myself that never again would I do that awful thing called the marathon.  Who cares if I BQed, because, I am never running Boston…even if my life depended on it.  I got to the food table and because I wasn’t all there in my head (I was a little/lot woozie) I just took some of everything and was walking around with arm fulls of food…none of which I wanted to eat.  Then someone handed me a beer.  I promptly put the beer down.  While normally I would not turn down free beer…but really, after 26.2 mi, no thank you.

I got my gear bag and called my dad and reiterated my feelings that I would never again run another marathon.  I was proud that I qualified for Boston, but again, didn’t care because I would never ever ever run it.  I told my dad to simply inform my mother that I had not died and would call later that night.  My mom’s main concern in any of these races is that I will disappear somewhere or die or something and no one will tell her.  It’s especially bad when the runner updates that they send are behind so my mom doesn’t get an update from 9:30 am til 11am and all she can conclude is that I’ve died…not that there was a technical error…anyway, that’s moms for you.

So, my next call was to Mags to see where she was and I slowly hobbled over to find her.  I informed her of my time, my BQ and my feelings towards marathons.  She told me the 48 hour rule…that after 48 hours you’ve typically forgotten the pain enough and have recovered enough to want to do it again.  I laughed at her and told her that I would not be running Philly in 6 wks.  We waited for Kells at our designated meeting spot and then decided to go back to the hotel because I was ghostly pale and desperately wanted a warm shower.  Then the fun part of the weekend started.

5 hours later:  I had decided I was going to run Boston AND Philly…and I love marathons.  They are amazing.   It didn’t take me long to come around; and now I’m very excited for Philly, now in 5wks.  Especially because my Daddy is coming up with me!  I’d also love to run a time fast enough to get my guaranteed entry into NYC (<3:23…)

Being the weirdo that I am, I thought, what better way to spend your 26th birthday than running 26.2 mi?  So…there I went to Chicago for the Chicago Marathon as a birthday celebration (the day before my birthday to be exact, but close enough).

I had thought that I was going to be in a mandatory training for work until Saturday morning, so I booked my flight out of ATL into MDW for late Saturday afternoon arriving at 7ish.  I would have to miss the expo and rush to eat dinner and get checked in and get to bed, but I would make it.  It was less than ideal, but I made the flight arrangements when I had just the new job, so I was anxious to make them happy (still go to the training) and make myself happy (still make Chicago work).  Turns out I didn’t get accepted into the training (wtf?  It was already full…) so I could have flown out early on Saturday anyway.  So I came over to ATL from Augusta early on Saturday hoping to hop on an earlier flight and go to the expo with Kell; unfortunately my 5pm flight was the earliest one Airtran had…so, I sat in the airport for about 4 hours and missed the expo.

Flight was fine, got into Chicago at 6:30, took the el to downtown and met Kell at the closest stop to our hotel.  Thankfully, she was able to pick up my packet at the expo and check into the hotel and scope out dinner places and everything.  But, also the poor girl was left to go to the expo alone and hang out in Chicago by herself for 5 hours…(sorry Kell!)  We had dinner at a gastropub.  Got a couple safe appetizers and shared a large bowl of spaghetti…I had some wine and she had some beer.

We got back to the hotel and Mags got in (who wasn’t running, but as a 2:52 marathoner, is far more knowledgeable about prerace routines than we were).  She basically went over everything with us—from race strategy (like, crap, how fast do I go out?) to what to wear (even though I managed to pelt a guy in the face with my hat and gloves as I threw them to the side of the road).  We laid out our race outfits, made sure we had bagels, PB and bananas for the morning and then relaxed some.  It had been since 2006 since we’d all three been together (I saw Mags and Kell both in 2008 separately), so we reminisced and laughed like crazy people and went to bed.

Kelly and I woke up at 5am to start getting ready.  Got dressed, I had half a bagel with some PB but really wasn’t hungry.  I had to spend some time figuring out how to stash 5 gels on me since I didn’t bring a fuel belt, and I ended up stuffing two down my bra (which actually turned out to be a great idea).  We put on our throw away warm clothes (including a pair of XS sweatpants that were the best highwaters ever) and headed out the door.  Maggie wished us luck and got to go back to bed for a little bit before going to watch us on the race course.

We picked a great hotel on E. Whacker…just over a half mile from the start.  So we walked to Grant Park and it was crazy how many people were out walking to the marathon.  Sureal, really—to be out at 6am on a Saturday morning and the Chicago streets are full.  And, it was cold.  Really cold.  30s…which is ok…except, it’s not so fun waiting from 6:00am til the start at 7:30 in the freezing.  We made our way to the port-a-potties for a pre-race poo and then separated.  Kell had a seeded entry since she had run a marathon before and I was in the open corral.

I got into the corral with the 8-minute milers.  It was the fastest pace group they had.  I had finally made the decision to race the race and not use it as a training run for Philly.  The plan was: find the 3:50 pace group, start off with them and then see how it feels.  If it’s too hard, back off, and use the race as a test drive.  If it feels good, push ahead and run negative splits to see if I could hit 3:40 and qualify for Boston.  Well, the fastest pace group they had in the open corral was a 4:00 marathon.  So, I figured, I would just have to do this on my own.  I got myself mentally prepared for that and just wanted to relax into an 8:45min/mile pace over the first 5K and get my legs warmed up (which turned out to be an issue because I don’t think it ever got above 40 while I was out on the race course).  At 7:30 when the elites started, I stripped off my over-clothes and threw them to the side to reveal my fantastically pink spandex.

Dot dot dot. to be continued.