On Boston

As runners we are taught - or we learn - to be mindful of our surroundings.  As I was running today I heard the jingle of dog tags and I was on alert as I always am: Is the dog on a leash?  Running toward or away from me?  What is my escape plan?

Not only do we learn to be alert for loose dogs, but a myriad of possible dangers.  Strangers on our paths, stray pinecones, or even lack of fuel or water all have the potential to do us harm.  In an abundance of caution, we learn to be prepared for any hazard, and we try our best to avoid them.  We carry water, wear headlamps, consider mace or pepper spray, and keep one headphone tucked in our tops, so we have an "ear out" to hear.

The exception is the race, where we are at our most vulnerable only because we feel most protected.  At a race, our needs are cheerfully met: Waterstops fend off dehydration, medical tents hold volunteers with Tylenol and bandaids, well-heeled dogs sit at their masters' feet, leashed and calm.  Streets are mostly swept and runners look out for each other, kicking debris out of the way of those behind them, encouraging those who aren't doing well, alert to help if a fellow runner needs it.  The race is where we as a running community come together, to test our training, to celebrate the hours spent in the dark dodging shadows and pinecones, and to receive the reward of our hard work.

Then there is This Race, where we send our very best.  Like children at the master's knee, we who have never been hear from those who have about the Wellesley girls, Heartbreak Hill, the Boylston Street finish.  The elite of the world toe this line, followed by the elite of our small worlds - our very best who train for the elusive BQ, who have the fortitude to run - hard - for three and a half hours, to earn that coveted spot.  Patriot's Day Monday, even if we don't officially celebrate, is a secret little holiday in the heart of every runner.

I waited in line at the porta-potty at one of my first half marathons.  When it was my turn, the runner who was exiting held the door for me.  I remember this because it was so different than the world of disrespect and disregard I think I'd become accustomed to.  That small but significant gesture helped me realize that the running community was a gentleman's community - that to be a part of it I needed to be kind, considerate, caring and helpful. Since that odd moment when a stranger held a plastic, stinky door for me, I have realized that first impression has not been wrong.  The running community includes some of the very best people I have ever had the luck to know and run alongside.

So like many runners, I wake up this morning still stunned by this attack on not just Bostonians, not just Americans, not just international citizens, but us.  Our people.  The fastest of us, or if not, the most charitable of us, who run 26.2 miles to raise money for a cause that means something to them.  The community that includes not just runners but those who support runners, the Chucks of the world who chase down spectator spots and carry our bags with our Cliff bars and spare pairs of shorts and a jacket so we are comfortable on our many miles.  I know these people - maybe not personally - but I know what they are made of and how they felt and how this moment, circled on the calendar and anticipated for months - has now been marred with horror and fear.

And I understand that unspoken sadness, that this moment, that they fought so hard for and earned, has been snatched away and replaced with sadness for those who have lost so much.  I can imagine the inside out fatigue - the exhausted body and the exhausted heart and soul.  I can imagine the mix of grief and relief for those who escaped, those who finished before the 4 hour mark and those who hadn't yet finished.

You would think by now we would have lost our innocence.  You would think by now we would be numb to these events, as frequently as they seem to happen these days. I think it is to our credit that we are not jaded by evil and that evil surprises and shocks and hurts us every time.  What does not surprise us is the number of people who ran toward the danger. Those who have been to races, especially major ones, will know that many trained medical personnel, including nurses and doctors, volunteer their time and expertise to runners.  When they signed up to volunteer, none could know what would be asked of them beyond the usual runner ailments and conditions.  As we watch the video over and over again it is unmistakable - once again, the heroes run toward the danger, not away.  Remarkable - and yet, not really.  It is what we have the great fortune to expect from America's finest - our public servants who run to protect and to serve and to heal and to comfort.

There will be so much to process is the next days, weeks, months and years.  There will be an impact throughout the running community, but not the way you think.  The running community will be who they are - defiant, resilient, quietly kind and strong in the face of those who try to harm us.  We will rally behind our injured and stricken, and be even more enthusiastic with our appreciation for the men and women who protect us while we run.  We will continue to kick pinecones out of each other's path and hold portalet doors and offer words of encouragement to our fellow competitors.  We will raise money and raise spirits and close out even more races at capacity to prove we won't be deterred.

There has been talk about how to secure 26 miles of future events.  I feel comfortable speaking for most marathoners when I say: We don't want that.  That's not who we are.  We run for freedom and from restrictions.  We run knowing there are dangers, and it is worth it.  We don't want to run within the confines of pat downs and metal detectors.  Individually, we've been warned that running causes harm, hurts you, breaks you down... yet we run anyway, understanding that it does just the opposite. Now, together, we can say the same - running will never harm us, hurt us, or break us down.  And in our collectively defiant voice, once again, we defeat the enemy.

March Forth

There are some rumblings on Facebook about running every day in March.  I haven't officially joined a challenge, but I like the idea.  Like tonight, when I realized I was going to ruin the whole idea in the first day.  I realized at 6:45 that though I had done a lower body workout earlier at the Y, I hadn't actually RUN.

So, I strapped on my Garmin and off I went!  I originally was just going to do our neighborhood loop of 1.8 miles and call it good.  Then I decided if I was going to strap on the Garmin, put on the shoes, get sweaty, etc. I might as well go ahead and do something of substance, so I went out 2 miles so I was forced to do four.  That's probably the idea behind the "run once a day" concept;  more often than not you are going to run a little further than a block once you get going.  It's just a matter of getting motivated to get started 90% of the time!

I am still slower than I like to be, but I know I have to put in the mileage to get better.  I wish I'd brought music tonight; I got a little bored.

Today I read something along the lines of whining about running is like whining about too much money.  I need to remember that I am blessed to have the choice and I need to remember to honor that blessing by making that choice more often than not.  Preferably with music along for the ride.

Tap! Tap! Is this thing on...?

I have spent considerable time reading through this old blog of mine in the past few days.

The sub headline I wrote for this blog so many years ago says this:

My hope is that it will inspire me to perservere now, and be a reference for me to know what to tweak for future running endeavors.

Well, it's done its job.

I don't even know what to say, how to summarize my feelings, except to say this:  I miss her.  Her - the writer of this blog from two and a half years ago.  I miss her enthusiasm, her spirit, her commitment, her dedication, her unwavering enthusiasm for her new-found sport.

Blogging, blogging about running, blogging about myself running - on balance, this seems like a somewhat egotistical endeavor.  Who cares?  Perhaps that's why I stopped.  That, and life got in the way.  And things changed.  I changed.  So I no longer visited this little cozy overstuffed chair my little corner of the internet.

But now I find that this blog about me running has served a purpose, to me anyway. As I read back through the pages of this online journal I realize I have captured the very essence of my life within the framework of my hobby.  The platform is the sport, but it showcases so much more.  It's a blog about friendships, and spirituality, and soul-searching.  It is about family, and marriage, and sacrifice and substance.  It is an observation of the world and relationships through the unlikely porthole of distance running.  In between posts about repeats and long runs - even within posts about repeats and long runs - are posts about friendship, nature, family, pain, fear, illness, stress, love, kindness, inspiration, parenting ... you name it.

So where am I now?  I am a little adrift.  It's been a hard year which I have made even more difficult for myself by stuffing down and cutting off the things that made me healthy and happy.  I have sacrificed health - mental and physical - prioritizing often the wrong things over the right ones, all in an attempt to survive or move on past some setbacks.  I have used a sense of false martyrdom to excuse my lack of dedication to things I know to be right and good.  When you are healthy - physically and mentally - you can contribute so much more to the world than when you allow yourself to be robbed of the things that make you whole and wholesome.

Last weekend I ran in the Gasparilla Distance Classic.  In the last two years, I have run the Mich Ultra challenge, which consists of 4 races: 15k and 5k on Saturday, and the half-marathon and 8k on Sunday.  I mainly did this to get the Mich Ultra swag, being the Mich Ultra poster child that I am.  This year I was smart enough to acknowledge that 18 miles on a single day was not within my capabilities, but arrogant enough to think that 25.5 miles in 2 days was.  Thus, I ran the Beck Light Challenge, which is three of the four races (the 8k is not included).  On Saturday, I ran the 12.4 miles of races beautifully - not too fast, but not too slow, and feeling like a champ afterward.

On Sunday - notsomuch.  Lack of preparation and training showed up and kicked me swiftly and soundly in the butt at mile 4.  I did what I haven't in years mid-race, and texted Chuck.  "Not going well.  Only at 4" I wrote at 6:58, about 45 minutes or more into the race. Exactly one hour later: "Barely at 9.  Yikes".

At mile 9, I looked at the clock:  1:59:45.  And I burst into tears.  At just under the two hour mark I should be finishing, or at least a hell of a lot closer to the 12 mile mark than the 9!  The most upsetting realization?  I had done this to myself!  There were no excuses.  I am not, nor was I, injured or ill.  I was not sidelined by anything more than my own laziness and lack of dedication.  I wanted to race, but I didn't want to do the work to lead to a good, solid race and feeling good about my performance.  I wanted the glory, but didn't put in any of the guts.

So, that moment sucked, but it was a pivotal moment, and pivotal moments change lives.  Pivotal moments are called that because it causes you to make a sharp turn and change direction.  Pivotal moments are often painful or difficult because pain motivates like no other.  Pain has a positive purpose if you let it.

Somewhere in that painful haze of defeat plus the actual physical pain from running 13.1 miles seriously undertrained, I found myself navigating here, to my little corner of the world, where I had happily chattered about running and deer potties, and girlfriends and races. I was shocked to see my last entry was November 2010.  It was a little like returning to a house or a store that you had once loved, only to find it quiet and abandoned, unloved and forgotten.  Then I debated:  Do I continue to let it sit, untouched?  Torch it?  Or bring it back to life and start making new memories and new friends and new goals and new experiences?

Obviously I chose the latter.

It's not often you get to resurrect something you loved.  Life doesn't hand you too many second chances.  I am two and half years older now - officially in my 40s.  Not even just 40, but 41.  My race roll call on the side of this blog doesn't even list my 7th marathon.  My children are teens or nearly teens.  My marriage is practically old enough to enlist.  I own a company now.  I have directed four 5ks.  I have accomplished much while I have been away, but I have also lost a part of myself, a part I really enjoyed and was proud of. Journaling in this way was an essential part of staying healthy and focused and keep my love of running - and writing - alive.  The new year was supposed to begin on January 1, 2013.  For me, the new year started at 7:59 am on February 24, 2013 at mile marker 9.

And like I used to say when I was ready for something I had trained hard for and couldn't wait to tackle:

BRING IT

Chilly Tuesday Night Speedwork

Tonight was group speedwork. We were supposed to do 6x800s but only two of us were doing the extra 800s (the rest only had to do 4) so they compromised and did 2 400s with us. So they did more, and we did less.

I am going to have to look to see how these numbers compare but here they are for the blog's sake:

1 mi w/up
800s: 3:48, 3:42, 3:36, 3:37
400s: 1:35, 1:42

Do Over! A.K.A. Blue Moon Half-Marathon Race Report

Chip Time: 1:53:08 - new PR by 3 minutes! :)

If I could have gone back out last Sunday and run that race again I promise I would have. I was so hungry for a do-over that I started searching for another race from my phone on the way home. First I looked at the weather for today: 50 degrees? A near thirty degree difference in a week? Hmmm...

Next, I remembered the time change.

And finally, I remember the Blue Moon Half Marathon, 30 minutes from home, one week away.

A mulligan.

There are two things that can happen when the stars line up that beautifully for a race - you can either completely bomb it and have no excuses for why you did, or you can thank God for perfect racing conditions, remember that those only happen once in a... ahem... blue moon, and go for it.

There were lots of friends at this race, which made it especially fun. We hung out for a bit before the start and then lined up in a tight-nit pack for the start. I wasn't the least bit nervous. That always makes me nervous. It seemed bitter cold but as someone pointed out it was because we had baked for months on end. Truly, the conditions were perfect.

The race started late (as always) and was pretty packed at the start. About a quarter mile in the half marathoners turn right and the 5k-ers turn left, thinning out the pack quite a bit. I settled into a pace that I felt was comfortable and checked in at mile 1. 8:16. Perfect. That felt good and was well below my goal pace (my 2nd tier goal was under 1:55, my first tier goal was the 1:52 Mark had told me I was capable of last week). (8:46/8:32) Since I've raced this route before, I knew to be prepared for an onslaught of "hills" in the form of a bridge we ran up, turned around and ran up again all within a quarter- to a half-mile. When we approached the bridge my mind relaxed; it was *nothing* compared to the hills of San Francisco 3 weeks ago! I tore up the bridge just for sport, passing quite a few people along the way, and wondered if I'd suffer the consequence on the flat part. Nope, my legs handled that quite nicely. I relaxed on the down, got to the turn-around, and tore back up the bridge again. On the turn-around, we faced a wind I hadn't noticed when it was at my back, and had to re-adjust to that.

I felt good through mile 5. At mile 6 my perceived rate of exertion went up, and so did my time. I started thinking that I'd need to talk to Ma'am about this; how could I feel so good the first 6 miles and not feel good now? I know it's not endurance, because I have endurance. I started running through the possibilities: Longer speedwork? More tempo? About this time they were handing out Gus so I took one, but switched it out for the Hammergel I had in my pocket, and took that instead. That didn't sit too well and required a potty stop, dammit. But this time I picked out a runner, sped to the restroom, went quick (I am good at this!) and then ran back out. I told myself I had to run my heart out the next two miles to make up the difference and then after those miles were locked in, I could dial down the pace if I needed to. I caught up to my runner "marker" and knew I hadn't lost too much, as long as she hadn't slowed down.

At mile 6.55 (half way) I looked at my watch and saw that I had a 56:00 flat. If I continued on the pace I was I could get my first tier goal of 1:52. I decided to just push as hard as I could; if I fell apart so be it, I'd be a lot closer to my goal than if I didn't. About this time the fuel started kicking in and whatever was falling apart at mile 6 was renewed. I had a lot more energy and just felt good ... and was having a ton of fun.

I missed the 10 mile mark time (5k to go so I could figure out my projected finish time). At 11 I knew that if I finished in 20 minutes I'd be at 1:55. I was cautiously optimistic that I might get a PR since I was feeling VERY strong even still. At mile 12 I checked again, and started to feel even more like this might be it...!! The course turns off the trail, down a street and turns into the park, going by the finish line first before turning back in to the finish. I was starting to feel exhaustion set in at this point, but then the crowd bolstered my spirits. I started looking for Chuck - I hoped he was paying attention because I was coming in earlier than I think he'd have predicted - and there he was. I squealed (yes, squealed) and he said, "Well hurry up, go faster!!" and I DID. Where that kick came from I do not know, but I cheered for myself all the way in by a clock that read 1:53:18 (or something). Not sure what my chip time was but I was so flipping ecstatic I did not CARE.

I had so much fun during this race! It was absolutely perfect from start to glorious finish. I felt like I ran smart, ran comfortably, but most of all enjoyed just about every bit of it. I am feeling like I am really starting to make strides and really inspired to make this one of my best racing seasons yet!

Halloween Halfathon - Race Report

Time: 2:00:43 (chip)

I have determined that the Ft. DeSoto course has bad juju for me. Last year, exactly one year ago, was what I refer in my head to as the FML half marathon, where the heat, humidity and a polyester Cinderella dress left me in near tears as I trudged my way to the finish. The one highlight was meeting Morgan, Redhead Running, who has since hightailed it out of Florida to Michigan to live with her main squeeze. So to Morgan: Happy Anniversary!

March found me again in Ft DeSota with a diagnosed-by-a-bonafide-doctor case of bronchitis, where I made a call at mile 3.1 to finish the half-marathon and ended up feeling better, and ended up getting 2nd place AG for my finishes over the course of the half marathon series. It was a "and we all lived happily ever after" ending but for Heaven's sake, who wants to run a half marathon with bronchitis!?!

Today was supposed to eradicate that silly notion of location juju. I've had surprisingly good showings when least expected recently - the surprise sub-25 5k earlier this month and then an all-too-easy 1-mile PT test clocking in at 7:23 after fighting for sub-7:30s for I don't even know how long. This was a half-marathon! Woo hoo! Add in my patent "sling shot effect" with a marathon 2 weeks ago and I was guaranteed an effortless PR! Bring it!

We met up with Jenny with only 20 minutes to go before the gun, and each realized a case of nerves. WTH? Just 13, I said to my marathon training partner. That's a dial-down week in marathon training land...

Off we went into the dark of the island, and I was demoralized quickly as I was passed by runner after runner. Knowing my strength was in endurance, I let them. I'd pass them later.

The first 3 miles clicked in at 8:28, 8:41, 8:44. I was pleased, except during that third mile I started to feel decidedly sick. I popped into a porta-potty right at the start/finish line. When I ran past Chuck he said, "You've got about 30 seconds to make up there!"

At mile 4 I seriously considered my first DNF. At mile 6 I thought of stopping and calling Chuck and asking him to come get me. At the turn-around, the beautiful Skyway Bridge in sight, I made my 3rd stop of the race. I knew I'd be lucky to finish, let alone break 2 hours. I was so upset.

At mile 9, I realized the problem: My iFitness running/race number belt was encumbered more than usual with my new Droid phone, weighing significantly more than the BlackBerry it had replaced. I pulled the belt up over my rib cage, and felt instant relief. I thought I'd be renewed and could bolt it home with a mere 4 miles to go, but at this point I was exhausted and spent. I had not taken any fuel thanks to the state of my stomach, and I had no energy left. I limped in the last 4 miles.

I am frustrated that I can't have a good race on this course. It takes us about an hour to get there from home, and I think it's worth traveling for. Chris Lauber, race director, has been often called out on this blog for the quality races he puts on at a reasonable cost with attention to detail. The course itself is flat and fast, and it is fun to see the faster runners loop back on the course. The day was less humid and cooler, leading me to run 8 minutes faster this year than last (a fact thoughtfully broadcasted by the announcer shortly after I finished - a nice, personal touch to this home-grown race). The Halloween race specifically is a reunion of sorts, as the Tampa Bay runner community reconvenes for our season, after a long hot summer. I love the race, love the course, but just cannot race it to my potential.

Nonetheless, I am glad I did it and look forward to loading up my fall/winter race calendar with more half marathons. The distance itself was comfortable. I know I lost a great deal of time stopping along the race course - and added to the distance (my Garmin reads the race as 13.21 since I had to leave the certified course more than once). I appreciate the fact that there is another race on this same course in 5 months ... a proving ground of progress. I just hope whatever haunts me at that ancient fort is done with me by then...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Happy New Year!

Just kidding, it's not, but sometimes it feels like that with races starting to crank up all over. While the rest of the nation's runners are winding down their running seasons and finding the nearest treadmill, we Floridians feel like we live on the opposite side of the Earth and get our training cranked up!

So with that in mind I've been hashing out a few running-related goals I have set for myself between now and the last Spring race, whichever that might be:

• A most important "personal" goal: To be a better as a participant in the blog community. I have received so much support and feedback from readers of this blog and I really want to offer the same. I am trying to stay caught up on reading but I have fallen behind, and I intend to prioritize staying in touch better with the blogosphere, as it is called (apparently my browser agrees that is a word, since there is no red squiggly line underneath it alerting me to a misspelling!)
• Concentrate on my half-marathon time. I cannot call out a time goal yet as I do not yet know what to expect from myself at this point. After years of chasing the elusive sub-25 5k I managed to make it twice in the past 3 months. After trying to get my 1-mile PT under 7:30, I got a 7:23 this morning without even "trying". This means one of two things: I am starting to get a handle on getting my head out of the way and running relaxed OR I am getting faster. Or maybe it IS both things. Either way, I am running this weekend's half marathon as a "time trial" to see what I am capable of as it stands, and will use that information to build my training and expectations for the rest of the running season.
• Break 24 minutes at the Armadillo 5k in March. I set this goal after my last 5k with a running friend who finally broke 25 (and beat me). We are going to fine tune our training near that race to accomplish that and work together to achieve it.
• Focus on nutrition. Up the the ante of vegetable consumption and dial back the meat. I've also been toying with eliminating sugar substitutes. I've tried some regular sodas and today had a sugar-sweetened tea and they are sugary enough to make me want to gag. I think I'd be better off consuming a tiny bit of sugar to a lot of Splenda, especially in my drinks.
• More water. See above.

I am also considering another marathon in the very near future just to capitalize on the training I've already done, plus the better weather, plus the fact that I enjoyed the distance of my race in San Fran (the hills, rain and chill notsomuch). I am so solidly riding the fence on that I have splinters in my butt. That could go either way ... based mainly on finding a decent race during an available weekend in a place close to home. That is a lot of variables to consider for a race of that magnitude, so we'll see.

This morning was the 1-mile PT test and tonight was speedwork. This weekend's half marathoners did 8 instead of the 12 our plan called for. Each of the eight with the exception of two were almost exactly the same (1:49.5). Two were 1:47 and 1:48. I ran each with a different level of perceived effort but in the same amount of time. Reason #137528 why a runner should do repeats - to learn how to run just as fast in a more relaxed state. Too bad running repeats is a whole lot of not fun, it sure is good for you. Just like vegetables.