In Sickness and in Health

For the typical marathoner, you are married to your sport. You wake up with it, think about it all day, hang out with it after work, and have dreams about it at night. Through all the trials and tribulations, you continue your relationship with it and work on it every day to try and make each day better than the last. 

My Twin Cities Marathon experience was a true test of my relationship with running. 

It was a perfect day for a race - temps in the mid 40's with a little cloud cover. The course was absolutely gorgeous and full of fall colors. I had never felt better at the halfway point of any marathon I've ever done and was hitting my goal paces almost spot on. I felt totally invincible! 

Then mile 15 happened. 

It felt like someone punctured a knife through my stomach. Then the nausea came, with dry heaving shortly thereafter. 

Ummmm, excuse me running, but WTF?! We were doing so well!

I pulled over to the side and was assisted by an EMS guy on a bike who gave me some fluids. They asked how I felt about 5 minutes after the heaving stopped, and I lied and said I felt much better.

Stubborn, party of one.

By the 22nd mile, I had to pull over to the side again. The same EMS guy on the same bike saw me that second time, walked me to a nearby emergency aid station and gave me hot chicken broth. They advised I drop out and said I looked pale. 

Sorry dude, but I always look pale. It's my German/Irish heritage. I'm continuing on. 

Plus, there was no way I was dropping out at mile 22. I would walk/crawl/stumble my way across the finish line before I DNF'd.

I thanked them for the broth and continued as best I could for the next 4 miles, all the way across the finish line. 

My legs felt great. My lungs felt great. It was just not my day on the G.I. side of life. But, like Nemo with a bad fin, I persevered and just kept swimming.

A day later I am already in heels with hardly any soreness in my legs. And I am already plotting another marathon in the next few months for redemption. 

Marathon #5, I'm coming for you.... 

The Renegade of (Running) Funk

Sometimes, in life, you get into funks. 

 Not this kind of funk though - this is the good kind.

Funks can reach all levels of life and can sometimes be interpreted as burn-out. Whether it's a dead-end job or a writer's block or a weight loss plateau, we've all gotten into ruts of some form. Things aren't what they used to be, you no longer see progress, and fun activities no longer seem fun. 

It also can take it's toll on running.

I had been battling the running funk for a few weeks. Maybe it was the summer heat, or maybe it was borderline burnout. I tried new playlists. I tried running with no music at all. I tried running with friends. I tried bartering with myself (if you can run this entire route at goal pace, we can have Yogurtology later!) but nothing seemed to be working. 

And let's be honest, I had that frozen yogurt anyway. To drown my sorrows, of course.

 EAT ALL THE TOPPINGS! 

So, I did the unthinkable: I took a week off.

*GASP*

Yes. It's true.

Every run I was embarking on just wasn't fun anymore. I was stopping every few miles, pausing my Garmin, trying to re-energize myself. I was taking unnecessarily long water breaks. I was late going out the door and having to cut runs short. I started making excuses.

 I needed to do some serious re-focusing. 

I've been on a routine training schedule since March, and that doesn't include the multitude of half marathons that came before that. I also delved into another round of marathon training immediately after the Newport Marathon.

I haven't had a "break" in what seems like an eternity.

So, for 7 days, I did nothing. Not one trip to the gym, not one lacing-up of the Brooks. 

Nothing.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I was definitely antsy, but nothing like the taper tantrums of marathons past. I wasn't as hungry and ate meals much more similar to my peers instead of Michael Phelps. I didn't have nearly as much stinky laundry piling up. I didn't have to set my alarm for 4:45 AM.

By the end of my time off, I missed running. Missing something means you want it, so it was the exact feeling I wanted to achieve.  

And guess what? My first run back, I hit negative splits and felt great doing it.

And didn't even have to bribe myself with frozen yogurt.

Moral of this post -- don't be afraid to give yourself a break. Sometimes, not only do you deserve it, but you also need it.

 

That One Time I Won an Award and Didn't Tell Anyone

I have a secret. 

I'm an Athena. And I have the award to prove it.

I walked into the packet pick up in Newport, OR to get my race bib for the marathon and stumbled into a booth with a scale that said "weigh-in". 

Looking around, all the athletes picking up race packets were in legit shape and super fit. My first thought was Oh crap. You have to be a certain weight to race? I am screwed.

Turns out, it was a weigh-in for a special division in the race called Hercules and Athena.

Hercules were men weighing in more than 190 pounds, and Athenas were women weighing in more than 145. 

According to the Newport Marathon website, the Hercules and Athena division is "an added incentive for large-framed runners". 

Disclaimer: I do not believe that men over 190 and women over 145 are large. Quite frankly I think that's a little ridiculous. But, it's their rules not mine. 

 Being 5'9", I suppose I could possibly be considered as "large framed", but I prefer the term "tall".

My weight has been known to fluctuate by 10 pounds in a day (no joke!) but typically I stay right around 137 pounds on average. A little lighter in the morning, a little heavier at night. If I'm tapering I'll go into the 140's range. If I'm carbing up, a little bit more.

Just for fun, I figured I'd jump on the scale to see what happened. I had been tapering, carbing up, and drinking tons of Gatorade, so figured I would get pretty close.

Yep, definitely qualified as an Athena.

Also, with my 3:45 finish time, I got 3rd in the division and got an award.

This large-framed runner came out of Newport Oregon with more than just a PR. 

I am an award-winning Athena.

Humpty Dumpty Doesn't Get Enough Credit

Running is hard, y'all.

  The Newport Marathon was a small and very well put together race with a gorgeous course that I will never forget. In my third marathon of my running career, I got my time down into the 3:40's and PR'd by 8 minutes.

I was also unpleasantly introduced to "The Wall".

I have never hit the dreaded wall in either of my past 2 marathons. Maybe it was luck, or maybe it was being able to stay in control and not push myself beyond my fitness limits. Either way, I officially acquainted myself with this phenomenon in Newport, Oregon last weekend.

It was a gorgeous morning, somewhere around 50 degrees. I was fueled up and feeling inspired, and decided to let my legs decide the pace.

 BAD IDEA-- not having a real time goal in mind and just running until your legs fall off is NOT a good plan. Don't do it. 

For almost the entirety of the first half of the race, I was running sub-8 miles.
 When I crossed the halfway point at 1:45, I knew I was probably gonna be in for a very grueling second half.

 Umm, what was I thinking. Really. Come on Mary. That is even faster than BQ pace. Heck, that is as fast as I ran the St Pete Half Marathon just 4 months ago.

Oh, look who's feeling so good at mile 10 with their sub 8 pace and their big smile. Yeah, you have another 16 miles to go, idiot.

The wheels started coming off around mile 18, where I logged my first split over 9 minutes. From there, my average pace was about 9:15. I had to stop and walk and tried desperately to jump-start my mental game, but I was dead. The 3 mile gradual incline beginning at mile 22 didn't help, either.

Over it.




The look of pain.

My run-until-I-crash-and-burn plan was a complete success. 

I crashed and burned and all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't put my poor soul back together again.  

The only thing that truly gave me any hope to keep going at the end was this guy.

He had rented a bike and decided he was going to ride part the of course and stop to cheer me on every few miles. 

When I saw him around mile 22, he knew I was in rough shape. I must have looked dreadful. From that point on he slowly rode about 50 yards ahead of me, looking back every so often. It was either to make sure I could still see him, or to make sure I wasn't dead on the side of the road.

I forgot what the Garmin was telling me and how much my body hurt and how I longed to give up and quit. My new goal was to keep him within my sight.



I finally finished, feeling defeated and broken but happy it was over.

I'm extremely disappointed in my mental state those last few miles.

I hate you, Marathon Wall. And I hate that I allowed it to happen.

Still, after that dreadful performance of the last 8 miles of the race, I am an official 3:45 marathoner.

And that is really really really really cool.

Looking back at my splits, had I actually stuck to a pace and not gone out at a crazy suicide speed, I could have definitely gotten super duper close to 3:40. Maybe even a 3:39.

And that makes me CRAZY excited. Now not only do I know where I stand, but I know what I need to work on and have a clear goal for Twin Cities in October. I want to beat the wall and beat 3:40, and I want the chip time to prove it. 
You heard it here first. 

I also have to brag on the state of Oregon. I had never been to the Pacific Northwest and was completely blown away.

 Oregon Coast

Everyone in Oregon is so nice. They give the south a serious run for their money when it comes to hospitality and general friendliness.

 Pre-marathon breakfast at the Original Pancake House


 
International Rose Test Garden in Portland                Rogue Brewery in Newport

Voodoo Doughnut in Portland

 

After running, eating, and craft-beer-drinking my way through Oregon, I am back to the humidity and flat terrain of Florida with a clear head, a refreshed soul, and a shiny new PR.

And maybe a few extra pounds.

Maybe.

Thank you, Oregon. I can't wait to see you again.

Pre-Race Marathon Diva

Mood swings. Carb destruction. Sleeplessness. PR Obsession. Hyper spaz-outs. Listlessness. Freakouts. Ghost Injuries. Meltdowns. Elation. Sobriety. Excitement. Dread. Nerves. Appetite. OCD. Joy. Sadness. Entertainment needs. Pace calculations. Fuel nerves. Exhaustion. Energy. Extreme happiness. 
 
  No, these are not traits of someone with major PMS. Or Jekyll and Hyde.

These are traits of a runner, in the few weeks leading up to a marathon.

This time around I didn't think the tapering would be so bad. Newport is a really small race, not a big corporate machine with a lot of hype and weekly email blasts and twitter hashtags to keep your nerves on edge.

This is as fancy as the Newport Marathon gets:

 Only one email saying that I'm in and good luck to me? I love it.


I was right- tapering this time around wasn't bad. I was actually pretty proud of myself for holding it together.
After my last super long run, I was totally fine.
During my first week of full taper, I was still feeling pretty good.

For some reason, this week, I started to fall apart a little bit.

The advantage now is that I can recognize the symptoms and mostly deal with them and take a deep breath and let it go.

Mostly.

 It started with small things, like almost crying when I couldn't immediately find my ID (I found it about 15 seconds later), or feeling enraged at the airport security lady for having to re-scan my bag. 

Now that I'm about 24 hours away from flying to Oregon, the freak outs are really starting to progress.

OMG I haven't packed yet and I need to buy more Gu and I haven't arranged my playlist and I need to print out my pace charts and I don't know what shoes I'm wearing and I haven't been hydrating enough and I swear my knee is starting to hurt and....

Yeah. Welcome to my thought process today. 

Everyone keeps asking what my goal is. 
To be honest, I don't know. 
My goal is to run as fast as I can. Whatever time that turns out to be, that is my time goal.

Not to sound like a total blowhard, but I'm about 99% sure I will PR. I'm feeling stronger than I was in Chicago last year and am not injured this time, so I should be able to crush my previous PR of 3:53, barring any on-course injuries or cramps. So I guess my goal is something in the 3:40's. Or faster.  

I'm taking pace time charts with me for finish times of 3:45, 3:40, and 3:35. We'll see what happens and at what point I crash and burn.

The current forecast for race day is a perfect partly cloudy morning in the 50's, so that will help.

 I'll also have views like this all along the course to keep me motivated.

 

Lastly, for all the non runners out there, here are some fantastic tips from Oiselle on how to deal with a Marathon Diva.
 

Not that I am one or anything..... 

Uncertainty Is The Refuge Of Hope

Well, here we go.

Everyone knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time.

One of those awful words that we all hate has creeped into my vocabulary once more.

DOUBT.

I chose Bachelor #2 from my Marathon Dating Game . The Newport Marathon is now only 30 days away. I committed to it, registered, bought my flight, and reserved a hotel. 

Every time I mention the Oregon Coast, people collectively oooh and aaah over how beautiful it is, so I feel confident in my decision. If nothing else, it sounds like will be a great weekend getaway from the Florida humidity.

There is one thing I don't feel confident in. 

My legs.

Some days I feel awesome. 
Like, I am going to eat 26 miles for breakfast and then go back for seconds awesome.

 Others I feel really slow and weak and pitiful and can barely muster up the energy to finish three miles.

On my 20-miler last weekend, I don't' know that I could have physically gone another 6.2. 
That scares me. 

Even on my 6 miler this morning, I was exhausted after I finished. 

I want to push myself hard. But am I pushing too hard? Am I expecting too much? 

Did I get too arrogant after my 1:37 half marathon PR in Sarasota this year and think this would be a piece of cake? 

My previously-stated goal from a few posts ago remains the same.

  The goal is to push myself hard and see where I stand in the 2013 quest for marathon speed.
 If I crash and burn, that's OK. I'll have all summer and the beginning of fall to get ready for an attempt at chasing the 3:35 pace group in Twin Cities come October. 

Now I just have to remind myself of that goal. 

And that sometimes you have to risk crashing and burning to know what you're capable of. 

And that there are always more chances. 

Right? 

One Of Those Days

Yesterday was one of those days. 

Much like September 11th, when I first saw the plane crash into that second tower sitting in Mr. Connell's 1st period class my senior year of high school. Or April 27 2011, when I sat in my office and watched a tornado tear through my hometown of Cullman via live weather stream.

April 15, 2013 will be one of those days. 

An emotional whirlwind of helplessness, despair, fear and anger.

My family and friends are all thankful I wasn't there. 

But honestly? 

Of course I wanted to be there.

All marathon runners hope to be there one day.

The Boston Marathon is the holy grail of marathons. For some runners, qualifying for Boston may not ever happen. For others, it's something that they will work hard for their entire running careers and might get lucky enough to barely squeak by with a qualifying time.

It's an incredible longstanding tradition of celebration and victory, and puts the sport on a national pedestal and glorifies it in a giant media spotlight. 

Yesterday, at the 117th Boston Marathon, the celebration and victory at the last .2 miles was instead clouded with fire and blood soaked sidewalks. 

There were beautiful moments of sportsmanship, like one second after Kara Goucher crossed the finish line and called out for her training partner, asking How'd Shalane do?.... these incredible moments are now tainted by shrapnel and smoke. 

The uplifting last mile of the marathon was dedicated to the Sandy Hook Elementary School victims, yet the inspiration that those victim's families felt sitting in a VIP booth at the finish line quickly turned to total chaos.

When tragedies happen, there are so many questions that may never be answered and emotions that can't be fully tapped into.

Running is primal and the purest of sport, and sport cannot be defeated. 

Runners know how to deal with pain. 

We know how to keep going when the going gets tough, and push ourselves forward with enigmatic strength that only each of us individually knows how to reach from within ourselves.

I know for certain that this too will pass, and that this country and the running community will bound together with relentlessness and come back stronger than ever. We always do.

My main struggle with this entire tragedy right now is that we shouldn't have to.

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

The Dating Game

Choosing a marathon is like a metaphor for relationships. 

You find out as much as you can about it, do your research, commit to it, accept it's flaws, and maintain a healthy level of stress and excitement about it.

In the end, you still don't know if you'll succeed or fail. You don't know how amazing or grueling it may become. Sometimes, it all comes down to your weakest moments - will you continue on and push past the fatigue, not knowing what other hills or obstacles may lie ahead? Or will you be overcome with exhaustion, fall to your knees, beg for mercy and withdraw yourself? 

Originally I had pretty much come to the conclusion that Grandma's Marathon was going to be the best option for a late spring race.This marathon has it's flaws (lodging being the main one) but it had awesome weather and a great looking course, and most importantly it gave me until late June to get my legs ready to dominate. I even created a training schedule based on that date.  

Turns out, now there is a big conflict with that weekend. So, I have to break up with this marathon before I really even got to know it. I'm sure it's a nice race and has a lot to offer some lucky girl out there, but the timing in my life is just wrong right now. 

It's not you, Mr Marathon, it's me.

Thankfully I have backups, like any wise girl should, and immediately delved into research on my next marathon relationship. 

Bachelor #1:

A running friend ran the Lake Placid Marathon last year and sang it's praises. Come to find out, it was ranked the #2 "Best Destination Race in the USA" by Runners World a few years ago. I can totally see why after looking at course photos-  it's a breathtaking double loop course in the Adirondacks.

Bachelor #2:

Newport also has it's advantages. It's known to be an incredible course to PR on (and is on the Runner's World list of best and fastest courses for 2012), and runs out and back along Yaquina Bay on the beautiful Oregon coast. The weather will be incredible and the views spectacular. 
Newport is also the headquarters of Rogue Ales, so I would know exactly where to go for some post race recovery! (Priorities!)

Bachelor #3:

Calgary was the original race I was considering for the late spring. The end of the course runs along the Bow River and promises for nice cool temperatures. It would be amazing mostly because it would mean I get to see my sister! Plus, I would have a place to stay and have someone to chauffeur me around the city like a diva.

The Cons? 

Lake Placid is not easy to get to. At all. And it would be a tough course... there's even a comment on the website that the course finishes with "a significant hill" in the final mile. As a Floridian, the thought of what a significant hill might be to someone who lives in the Adirondacks makes me shiver.

Newport is a little over a 2 hour drive from Portland, so would require some logistical planning (although not nearly as challenging as Lake Placid). It's a smaller race - only 800 runners ran last year - so there's a good chance I'd be running alone for some of the course. Which means no pacers or drafting of big groups. 
It could be liberating, but could also be a disaster.

Calgary is a week earlier than Newport, which means even less time to prepare. It's also a pretty significant trip to take just for a weekend. And the course is tough. Oh, and I will be going BACK to Calgary in July for Stampede as well...so this one might not be the best use of resources. 

Keeping P in mind, (you know, my real life boyfriend!), from a spectator standpoint I think they're all probably about even. Oregon may have a slight advantage only because it's a much smaller race and it will be easier for him to navigate without city traffic and road closures. 

 

I've come to terms with the fact that I don't have enough time to fully get my legs ready to attempt a major PR in such short notice.The goal for my late spring race at this point, for whichever bachelor I choose, is to push myself hard and see where I stand in the 2013 quest for marathon speed. 

 If I crash and burn, that's OK. I'll have all summer and the beginning of fall to get ready for an attempt at chasing the 3:35 pace group in Twin Cities come October.

The clock is ticking! 

Decisions, decisions..... 

Wait, That Wasn't Supposed To Happen...AGAIN!

Someday, the running gods will not look down upon me with adoration and bestow bountiful race day wishes.

Saturday March 2nd in Tuscaloosa, AL was not that day. 

Three weeks ago, I ran the St Pete Half Marathon and PR'd by 4 minutes. I signed up 10 days in advance and hadn't really been training.

That PR wasn't supposed to happen.

Last weekend, I registered for the Tuscaloosa Half Marathon at the very last possible minute.

And PR'd by another 3 minutes off of that.

That REALLY wasn't supposed to happen.

I've never raced back to back, 3 out of 4 weekends, doing two half marathons and a 15K. Would my legs even be strong enough to handle such a ridiculous race schedule? 

There was only one way to find out.

I wasn't certain what to expect out of Tuscaloosa. I was coming to town to visit my friend Jackie and her new baby (who is stubborn and has not been born yet!), and this half marathon just so happened to be on that same weekend. I hadn't been in the city in almost 10 years so I didn't even really remember what it looked like, much less the terrain and elevation.
 All I knew was that it was supposed to be in the low 30's with snow flurries on race morning.

Cue high-anxiety-packing mode. I took 3 different outfits with me to Alabama. 

Florida people just don't know how to dress for sub-50 temps.  

 Rachel was running it too, and it was so nice to have a familiar face out there!

Here we are rocking out our throw-away jackets before the race started
(Photo stolen from Rachel)

The first part of the course was very emotional. I don't know what that Forest Lakes area looked like before the tornado swept through, but I do know what destruction looks like because of seeing the aftermath in my hometown of Cullman (which got hit by an F4 tornado that same day, April 27th 2011). The empty lots, the driveways that lead to nowhere, the mailboxes with no homes behind them, the trees that are stripped of branches but still standing tall like leafless twigs - I recognized it all and felt a huge wave of sorrow. I was running through hallowed ground, where people lost everything including their lives, and I almost flat out cried on the course.

Seeing the empty lots, next to new houses being built, next to houses that were spared, it struck a cord in my soul. 

Course map superimposed onto tornado damage path

The course may as well have been a mini version of San Francisco's elevation chart. 

Hills, hills, hills. Rolling ones. Up, down. Up, down. Just when you think you get some recovery...NOPE! There's another hill waiting for you.

By around the 7th mile I already felt out of steam. I struggled mentally more than I can remember struggling in any race ever, marathons included. I knew I went out fast, and wanted to keep it up, but could feel the fatigue coming over me like a heavy blanket.

I was also all by myself (cue sad music)--- since I've been running, I don't remember ever being alone during a race. There were no strangers to pace with, or draft, or focus on keeping up with to push me a little harder, so the drive to keep going completely fell on my own strength and focus. 

This is where my loner tendencies kinda came in handy, since I almost always run by myself during training. 
 

 These extremely photogenic race shots sum up my feelings of the final 6 miles as a whole.

I was overcome with joy to see that finish line. And even happier to see the time on my Garmin. 

Official Race Results: 

1:41:08 (PR)

7:43/mile

66th overall 

2nd in age group 

After all that struggle, I ended up with a 3 minute and 15 second PR.

I made my way to the finish area to try and catch Rachel as she crossed, and I almost missed her because she was so speedy and crushed her goal with a new 2:02 PR! 

Finish line photo op!

Although Jackie's baby was due THAT DAY, she still came out and supported me at the finish line.

 2nd in my age group meant I got an award.

Cash money! 
Thank you Delane for letting me steal your jacket when my lips turned blue 

So then I was doing some thinking.

The spread on a half marathon and full marathon pace is around 30-40 seconds-ish, right?
Let's theoretically say 30 for this particular demonstration.

If I add 30 seconds to my 7:43 half marathon pace, that is an 8:13 full marathon pace.

(Yay, I can do math.)

But.... 
Do y'all realize what an 8:12 marathon pace would get me? Just one second faster per mile than that?

 A BOSTON QUALIFYING TIME!!

That is, theoretically of course.

Forget the 3:40's, I'm going for a time in the 3:30's this year. You heard it here first, friends.

Now I just have to find a good course.....