Oh, right, Phoenix and Race #1 of 2012!
February 2nd, 2012 | 
Author: Sooooo, fully aware that I haven’t written in two weeks AND I’m a bit behind just for the race itself, in Phoenix on January 15. Granted, January 15, on February 1, at least for me, feels a million miles away. And, I’m bummed, truly, because it was a great race and I have to use my fairly addled brain to recall some of the great details from the weekend. Ah well, finally sitting down to do so and going to freshen this site up and get moving on a few aspects to it.
In an entry coming up, I’m going to explore the stress the 11 in ’11 placed on me, that I haven’t really understood until now, but first I want to archive and note the first race of 2012.
Phoenix, you did me right this time. Overall, admittedly, I was a little apprehensive about having a race come on the heels of the 11 in ’11 – tried to consider how to take a healthy break and what a race schedule, which I do actually thrive on, would look like for 2012. But given a break I’m taking up to a race in Portland – not till May, I knew I needed to find something. Add that to the ability to drive from LA and stay with my childhood bff, who was so supportive last year, and finally, a new course which is more inspiring right now than knowing I’m heading to an exact same course and I was in. Who knows, for other courses knowing it’s the same course and I can plan to shave time off given a known course would be a great next step – perhaps living in one city will lead to that someday, for now, knowing the course was “new” was enticing.
And so we headed to the race on Friday the 13th – generally I felt prepared. In fact, more prepared than I thought I would. Helped that I was in one place for a few weeks (that’s a long time right now) and that the holidays and their affects were starting to be in the rearview mirror, and I went to train in my new Newton MV2s. Made a silly mistake and did my last long run five days in advance instead of seven of more, and I didn’t realize how important that was, in new shoes, until race day, but I’ll get to that. The last long run felt great – light, energized, reinvigorated, happy. And my lungs got enough oxygen to supply the rest of my body with necessary energy and I found myself, for the first time, looking truly forward to another race – the whole process of it. Yes, I was a little concerned about uprooting myself yet again and doing a road trip when all I was craving was to stay home for a spell, but here I was going for it again. Still don’t know if I am or was better off to take a longer break, review more, rest more, or what have you. But this race is in front me, so I’m going for it. Body, mind and spirit knows what to do, even if I just roll through this one. Here we go.
One cool thing was to realize that nearly a year ago, Phoenix marked the first of the 11 in ’11 craziness and now here I was again, having fulfilled my goals, accomplished what I set out to do no matter how ugly it got, and able to take a minute to take that all in. Had a few moments of exclaiming “I’ll be damned! I really did do it!” and maybe that in and of itself was why I was supposed to do Phoenix in 2012, to have that ability to self reflect for a minute and really take it in.
And then on to the Expo – again, to realize how differently I go through them now. A well oiled machine, to be sure, but also between having been to tons of them now AND being gluten free, it’s much quicker and yes, perhaps limiting, but I navigate it so much better and efficiently. I see my Newton booth, say hi and thank you again for making the best shoes ever, and I find my sport Jelly Bellys and try a few samples of items I know for a fact are gf. And if offered a sample that I don’t know, I ask “is it gluten free?” and usually the answer is no but sometimes I still get to try something fun. But at this point, I don’t need any equipment – no shoes, socks, hats, sunglasses, earbuds, shirts, recovery items, or anything else – I’m covered. So I see if there’s anyone around I should connect with, check in with the info booth on other vendors I was hoping to see (PR Bar and Honeymilk) that aren’t there and boom, outta there.
And I slide into my usual routine – a healthy protein rich lunch, with some good healthy gf carbs, a drink to chill me out and eat as light as possible that evening. Prepping for the next morning and trying to get some decent sleep, but the crazy nerves from 2011 are missing. And that’s a good thing. I have excitement and anticipation and some nerves just from taking this on a little sooner than I maybe planned, but it’s not debilitating or with tension or making my stomach go nuts. God I appreciate that. It actually made me look forward to this race now.
Crap, early morning wake up, but ok, here we go. It’s all good, I can do this. Am excited to race in my new shoes, and feel better prepared nutritionally than I have – I know those damn Gu gels Rock and Roll includes in the gear bag do a number on me, so instead of forcing them down, I will do less. It’s practically minimalist running at this point. HA! Coffee, yogurt and go. And we’re all off, making good time, with plenty of time for gear bag check and pre-race potty. And…not so much, how about a little traffic? Or a lot? Oh man, time’s a creeping. But wait, I don’t feel panicked, I don’t feel mad or frustrated – I just am letting it roll. I appreciate that too. That’s a nice change – and it’s not just because I know my actual time doesn’t start until I actually run across the start, but I am here to enjoy this race, I feel really good and don’t need that other stress to make me run faster.
Setting up to start, I think about what I want out of this race – break 2 hours? 1:55? 1:50? Surprise myself? Run the whole time? Turn it all off and enjoy? I decide while I’m not going to kill myself on this course, I am going to go for it and turn the tide from the second half of 2011: I want to run the entire race (that’s sounds so crazy considering what I did do last year, but with injury and illness, some races, even with good finish times, didn’t get a full continuous run), and I want no stomach pains, I want full lungs, happy hip, happy me, ability to look around and enjoy, and yes, I’d like to break 1:55 again.
And so I set out, right through downtown Tempe – nice new start, cute little town, and I set my music and I just start running….OW ow ow ow wow. What is this? Oh, hello calves. Damn, you is very tight and oh, right, that’s the one stretch I know I need to do and I forgot. And even more so, should’ve done it because I ran in these new racers just five days ago and apparently my calves have been tight the whole time. Me thinks a couple extra days would’ve helped to ease it – I mean, it’s not a complete surprise, I was rubbing traumeel and ingesting arnica this last week, but still. Holy crap tightness. But I don’t want to stop to stretch, so I will run through this. Let’s see, it does in fact make me run a bit slower, my legs seemingly tired, but in a different way than I usually deal with. But I’m still enjoying this race, this course, and my fellow runners.
Speaking of that, couldn’t have had this timed better – at one point, since I’m my wearing my Race Ragz 2011 race schedule t-shirt, two songs have some extended lag time between them and I’m able to take in conversation around me. I suddenly catch two women behind me chatting and I hear “oh my god, holy hell, that means she ran one a month last year!” and it strikes me, they’re reading my race schedule and commenting on it. I smile, blush and next song starts. Makes me a little happy – something about acknowledgement being validation. I keep running and while my legs, more over my calves, are screaming at me, I move forward, and testing my lungs on a couple sprints or small rolling hills realize something for the first time in eight months – I can take a deep breath during major exertion. This is huge. I didn’t even know this was possible. And it means my whole body is getting more oxygen, and that means I can crush, in my own way, this race. Now it’s up to me mentally – push through the tight calves pain, and whatever so-called fatigue comes up later in the race, I can push through that too.
At mile three I see a woman off to the right, looks like she’s pulled up for some reason, but it’s not a continued walk she’s doing, and as I pass her, I see her face grimacing – but it doesn’t look solely like pain, but disappointment and negative self talk. I know that all too well. I want to tell her she’s already done three miles and it’s ok to stop for a minute and get going again, I want to pat her on the shoulder, give her a thumbs up, some kind of encouragement, but I don’t. I’m still kicking myself for that – it happens too rarely in these races and when it does, it makes a huge difference, it always has for me. I hesitated because what if I annoyed her or she took it the wrong way. But I know now I could’ve helped, and later in the race, continuing to think about her, it made me continue to examine the idea of possibly becoming a coach of some sort – maybe through Team in Training or privately or something – I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, for all I’ve gotten out of this running sport, I have to give back. I have no choice. No one is telling me I have to, but for me, I must do it.
The race overall is great, and about halfway through my calves ease up a bit. Not as much as I’d like, but better. The couple miles of PF Changs quotes along the course are awesome – truly enjoyed those, wish I could remember more but read them all, some were ah-ha moments and they were fabulously distracting. And then the wish-it-happened-more phenom happens – the miles start peeling away quicker than I expect. There’s those times when you feel like you’ve run three and it’s only one – and then there’s this, when you feel you’ve run a half mile, maybe a little more, and you’re already at mile marker five. Then six. Then seven. Damn this is fun – am I running that fast or just enjoying it more or what? And I fully expect that to slow back, nope, there’s eight. And nine. Ok, now it will fall back, nope, ten down. Wait, only three to go? Ok, well, now you can speed it up and see, oh, hello 11! Damn, I could run a full at this point! And now 12. One. Mile. To. Go. And – I feel great. I’m speeding this shit up, I’m sprinting AND I’m enjoying it, smiling, feeling strong.
And then I look down, something feels weird – what the WHAT? Left shoelace untied. Hot damn. Quick decision – one mile to go, we’re running this out. I don’t want to hand over 20 or so seconds to the funny gremlin who untied my shoe mid-race. Maybe at mile seven, but with A mile to go? No, shoe feel gripped enough on my left hoof that I can do this. And I am, and I hear a few heckles or friendly updates from folks, but I keep going. Faster and faster, rounding the corner, and I’m so elated with the overall feeling and effort that I roll to the right side to give a bunch of kids highfives – love doing that.
Rounding the last corner to the right, digging in and finding that last bit to get it moving, lengthen and speed it up and bam, finish line. It felt great, I got my breath pretty quickly and downed a bottle of water, enjoying the old feeling of a good race. Then I got a tap on the shoulder (swear this happened in Phoenix last year too) and this guy, probably about 10 years older than me, says “damn, you really got me on that last mile – I was pacing you and you took off – nice race!” YAY! FUN! We talked for a minute, as racers do and commented on the course and the weather and our best “times” and you move on from there.
The rest of the post-race for me was finding my people, being cold, eating all good stuff and taking a nap. And then not being able to walk normal for about six hours, hobbling around, joking about my new gait and just relishing that while it wasn’t a PR for me, it was this: I did run the whole time, first time since San Diego in early June of 2011 that I could or did, I did break 1:55 again – shaving 15 minutes off December’s Miami race (not hard to do…) and most importantly, I enjoyed myself. I still love running, I still love racing – I’m not traveling like crazy and doing tons of races this year – but I am going to keep on keeping on, I am going to keep training and finding new ways to improve, and I am going to get my elusive PR this year. I don’t know how or when quite yet, but getting back to basics, not getting all mental about it and easing the pressure off a bit – that gave me back my run, my fun, my enjoyment – and even gave me back some speed.
Thanks, Phoenix – you were fun, for reasons still unfolding, and while I may not have initially looked forward to it, it was one of the best things I could’ve done to start 2012 off on a good note.
Knock knock! Who’s there?
Inspiration!
Oh, thank GOD you showed up. Been looking for you!
And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need when you have a race coming up. I set about looking to take a rest from 11 in ’11, relax the body, ease back into a 6 in ’12 race schedule. But based on some major changes coming up in my life in February and March and not yet finding a race in April, I decided to go ahead and sign up for one a little sooner than I would’ve necessarily planned. January 15, and my final 2011 race was December 11. Not impossible by any stretch, as it’s more than a month. But throw the need for some down time, some reflection, plus, on, only the two of the biggest holidays out there and food/drink and protracted train time and January 15 suddenly became a “right around the corner” race for me.
In some of that reflection, I realized the arc of my last 16 races laid out perfectly from the standpoint that the first five were such great, albeit sometimes tough, races and executed with some knowledge and even more determination and they resulted in very good race times. Not only that, but each one going forward I shaved time off concurrently – first race at 1:55, next at 1:52, next at 1:51 next at 1:49 then 1:48. How could that not get you excited about doing more – it inspired me that I could do this, it was possible and set the mind to the 11 in ’11 project. And then to start the first two races like I did – 1:47 then 1:44… are you kidding me? How could I not have thought about the possibilities? Yeah, guilty of fantasizing that I could shave a minute off each of the next nine to end up at 1:35. The evidence was there – seven races and methodically each one faster than the last, all in order. Without a doubt it got me excited about the upcoming races, the race I was doing whatever month it was, I pursued the training with vigor and total commitment, I paid myopic attention to my nutrition and I thought I was well on my way.
And then life came round the corner and smacked me upside the head and basically had me in a roundhouse punch and kick routine for the rest of the year. And so it goes. And so you’d think that with each race either losing time or having some unfun aspect to the experience (food poisoning, a cold, injury, jetlag, emotional distress, humidity, pain to the point of distraction etc etc) that I’d begin to lose the inspiration, that the desire to finish let alone do well would begin to lag. And maybe for a race or two that felt close enough to brush my fingertips on. But it was temporary. First of all, I finished every goddamn race. Crossed every goddamn finish line. That’s what I do, it’s who I am. I will see it through even if I pay some ultimate price for it. That’s another story. Annnnyway, I did. I’m proud I finished every race, I know I did something special, something inspirational, something a little different. I also know, I’m not 100% happy with the final results. I told myself I could take the foot off the gas pedal for a couple races in the middle of the schedule. Thank God I did, because it turns out I needed to for other reasons, basically had no choice, and at least I’d ahead of time given myself the out of finishing but also easing up the pressure a bit. But I wanted those last three races to be golden. Ok, Maui – not so much, but then LA came so close to the glory of the beginning of the year. And then the wheels fell off in Miami.
So what does that do for me now? Well, just like the insane good experience races of the first seven gave me the initial boost I needed to believe and keep going, now that I have all of those under my belt, the not-so-great finish times of the other races have also inspired me to…believe and keep going. I didn’t just get the perfect PR on that last race – if I had, would I have kept going or would I have just said “eh, nothing left to pursue, on to the next sport.” But it’s still out there, that elusive PR, I can feel it. It’s not mocking me or even necessarily challenging me, it’s just saying, hey, yup, still here, you can come get me when it works for all of us, keep believing, don’t give up even if everyone around you tells you to and/or gives up on you (you did that, didn’t you), and it’s yours. I think that’s brilliant the way the brain works and how this experience played out – amazing races and finish times to inspire to go forward and then some challenging races to also inspire to keep going forward. Had the experiences flipped – many not-so-great races in the beginning, I don’t know that I would’ve kept going, you know, the old what’s the definition of crazy? adage. And if all the last few had just been perfect races, would I still have this hunger to go out and get it? I don’t know, and I never will because it didn’t play out that way, but I do believe it’s played out exactly the way I needed it to for this experience.
And so, I was concerned about having a race so soon after it all, even while knowing that it was “good” for me, to have something again to shoot for, to inspire a number of long runs over the holidays, to keep up the training throughout it all, because after all, I have a race in a couple weeks. It also inspired immediate cleansing right after the new year rang in, which I’m grateful for. There’s still some adjusting and while I may have grunted my way through a number of training runs in the last few weeks, and even had a few times of being annoyed at myself for having this race, I’m ultimately very grateful that I scheduled it. Most importantly, it gives me another weekend with my oldest and most thoroughly supportive non-judgemental friend Kelly and that alone is worth the trip, as well, the marker of having started this journey with the January Phoenix race last year (ok, thankfully this year’s course is new) and doing it again, being able to really look at the last 12 months of running – and life – and put the marker in the sand and say hmmm, so that was then, and this has happened since, and now here I am. My demeanor around the race is much calmer, but the determination is just as strong – it’s a quieter strength, a little less manic than a year ago when this all began. Part of the routines are the same, some have gotten smarter and streamlined, less intense but still driven.
But I am grateful – I’m glad to have these races, these markers in time, these goals to set and go for. I don’t know what this Phoenix race will be like, I have five more this year to do and yes, I want that PR and I want this to be a great race and I want to enjoy it. I want the training of all of last year, to pay off in a great experience tomorrow, fun and satisfied with the effort put forth and the result of the race. And then move on to the next one. Hell, I’m almost nervous at this point to not have a race every month (another post topic!) But savor this for what it is, what it can be, what it marks for me, what it celebrates about me, and the comfort I take in this sport. So, thank you, to myself, for just three weeks ago signing up for this race – it was the right decision at the right time and you’re getting so much more than just a 13.1 run workout out of it. Inspiration indeed.
My Race Ragz!
Thrilled that My Race Ragz thought my story of 11 half marathons in 2011 and all that it brought with it was worthy enough to not only support with an awesome race t-shirt (hit the photo section of this blog to see a photo of it) that was my 11 in ’11 “tour” shirt, but also was so inspired, they asked me to write a guest blog for their website, sharing my story with their readers. Have to admit, it’s quite humbling and flattering to be asked to do so, and perhaps share with a few more people outside this blog and maybe even inspire others in some way. It was interesting to have to try to sum up the year of races specifically the final race in Miami, the journey overall, the why, the inspiration and methods to the madness in one post, but I did it, it was cathartic and worth.
Click on out of here to read Part I and Part II of this summary, support My Race Ragz by ordering your own custom run shirts and joining their community online and then come join me for the continued run journey I’m still on, about to consume the first of 6 races in 2012 and the ever gnawing chase to my dream PR.
Beautiful
Beautiful – Christina Aguleria
Everyday is so wonderful
Then suddenly
It’s hard to breathe
Now and then I get insecure
From all the pain
I’m so ashamed
I am beautiful
No matter what they say
Words can’t bring me down
I am beautiful
In every single way
Yes words can’t bring me down
So don’t you bring me down today
To all your friends you’re delirious
So consumed
In all your doom
Trying hard to fill the emptiness
The pieces gone
Left the puzzle undone
Ain’t that the way it is
You are beautiful
No matter what they say
Words can’t bring you down
You are beautiful
In every single way
Yes words can’t bring you down
So don’t you bring me down today
No matter what we do
No matter what we say
We’re the song inside the tune
Full of beautiful mistakes
And everywhere we go
The sun will always shine
And tomorrow we might awake
On the other side
We are beautiful
No matter what they say
Yes words won’t bring us down
We are beautiful
In every single way
Yes words can’t bring us down
So don’t you bring me down today
Just a little reminder…
By the numbers
Since I seem to have a thing about numbers, given running 5 half marathons in 2010, 11 half marathons in 2011 and planning 6 in 2012, thought I’d take a quick shot a miles run and miles traveled to run races in 2011 for those 11.
11 half marathons = 144.1 miles raced
On average 20 run miles a week training = 1,040 miles shuffled/jogged/run/sprinted/treadmilled/skipped-to-my-lou
Nearly 27,000 miles flown (thanks to Alaska and United for the ease of use of mileage redemption!) and 3,000 miles driven for almost 30,000 miles traveled for training and races
Over 31,000 run, raced, driven, flown for 11 half marathons. Have yet to measure how many pints of blood spilled, sweat drained or tears shed throughout all of this, but bet it gives that 31K a, ahem, run for it’s money.
Never let it be said I don’t go the distance for something/someone I believe in. And then some.
Begin again
No one can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.
Just signed up for my first race of 2012. Now, I’ve been doing a ton of processing since the Miami race, really trying to understand the broader scope of the whole journey this year, and the experience of running overall. And while months ago I’d signed up for a May race while at an expo for one of the 2011 races, it was more in theory and in a city I knew I wanted to get a race in (Portland) at some point. This time, I signed up for a race with the intention of beginning to schedule 2012 and what it might look like, how it might take shape.
If I’d tried to sign up within a few days of Miami, it wouldn’t have felt great, more like a chore. If I’d signed up before Miami, long before my idea for 2012 took on some semblance of a plan, that wouldn’t have felt right either. And funny enough, when I first tried to sign up a few days ago, the system was down and I couldn’t register. So, I trusted it would come through when the timing was right and I’m now officially signed up for race #1 for 2012, on January 15 in Phoenix, AZ. Yes, I ran Phoenix Rock and Roll in January of 2012, but the chance to be with a dear friend again and in a sunny place made it an easy decision. Plus the course will be different and, with a lot of upheaval coming my way in February and March, I didn’t want to wait three to four months into 2012 before I had a goal to shoot for. Yes, this is coming a little closer than I would’ve liked on the heels of December 11 and the Miami race, but I’m looking at this first one as a foundational training run, keeping the fire going one way or another. I still need and want these goals to shoot for and I will schedule around life events if I have to to get it done.
Reflecting on 2011, there’s many races I would do again, whether because the course was fun, the city was interesting, the experience wonderful, but I also know I can’t repeat any experience or make a not-so-great race memory disappear by doing it again. Plus, every single experience I had on and off all the courses are unique to the time and place in which they occurred. So, sure, I’d love to to New Orleans again, but realistically, financially and schedule wise (race is early March this next year), won’t happen, and DC is a Rock and Roll race this year, which would also be great again, but again, financially and timing wise it doesn’t work. Perhaps San Diego or Seattle again, would love to try Chicago again, and who knows what the Fall brings. As I really begin to formulate my schedule, it will fall into place the way it’s supposed to, just like 2011 did.
For now, I have a race to train for, a little sooner than I maybe thought given the enormity of training in 2011, but I’m getting after it and have a feeling it’s going to set a good tone for what I plan to accomplish in 2012. So, c’mere Phoenix, let’s get this thing done. See you in a few weeks.
A do run run run a do run run
Not quite sure why that popped into my head, but it’s the holidays and everything’s a little loopy. Got so much to say, so much to write and too little time to do so. But definitely finding time to run. And that’s so critical for me, for so many. In the midst of the chaos and craziness, the rich food and drink and even the emotions of the holidays, and boy do they come up, taking a moment to get physically moving (not dodging people while out shopping) and get some head space, some breathing room and it also happens to be something good for you, is key. Keeping that discipline while traveling, being out of your own space and upending routine is also crucial. So I’ve been getting some time out in my mama’s neighborhood in Seattle, a great run I can add or edit off of trails endlessly, a 15 minute sprint or 30 minutes of hill training or two hours endurance run – whatever I want.
It’s not always easy, given that in the winter this place is remarkably dark till late in the morning and gets dark early in the afternoon too – but with some flexible scheduling and some serious outdoor running gear (who knew my ears could get that debilitatingly cold?), it’s more than doable and feels awesome. I’m always a little extra proud of myself when I run here, the training is a little bit more challenging than hitting a treadmill in a San Francisco gym. And there’s other lovely elements as well – running this morning, day after Christmas, most people still shaking off the effects of celebrating Christmas for two days, feeling like a solo soldier at 8:30 as the sky is brightening, suddenly I see one bright eyed and bushy tailed person after another, running or walking, with or sans dogs. And there’s a silent comradery amongst us all – a wave and a smile to acknowledge as we pass by, or perhaps just a twinkling eye contact and head nod, one after another. I begin to get almost giddy with how many of us are out and about – all ages, all size, all styles of running, up and at ‘em early on the day after Christmas. Who knows if anyone is trying out new shoes or new clothes, you know, the inspiration that can be all you need to get out there again, but regardless of why we’re all out here together, we are all out here together. Just as I was starting to be affected, perhaps, by the limited daylight at this time of year here, a little spring gets put back in my step as I lose count of how many people are taking advantage of the quiet neighborhood to enjoy a solo run, or a run with a partner on this fine morning.
And this, among many other reasons, is why I run. Mornings like this, regardless of my own run time or how my body was feeling, morning like this, feeling in silent cahoots with a bunch of others just like me, gets me going all over again.
Run for fun? What? Who, me?
For the first time in just about two years I ran today for fun. Nothing to train for, nothing to prep for, nothing I’m timing myself for. Sure, it’s my first post-race run, so it’s still completely tied to what I did Sunday in Miami. But I ran to run. I ran because I love running and I want to remember that, always. Why I did this in the first place. What running means to me. The simplicity of a good run, period. I don’t have a race in two weeks so I have a long run now, or a race in a week so I’m tapering, or a race in three so I’m recovering but quickly, nor am I doing sprint training to shave time or endurance training to build foundation. I’m running because I have a passion for it. I’ve always had a passion for it, for 15 years, but something about these last two years gave it focus in a way it hadn’t had before, a consistency. This isn’t some fly by night interest or something I’m attempting once and moving on – I run because I love it and I race because it gives it a unique kind of focus – all of which I crave.
How to measure what this run is, how to decide how hard to run, how to identify what I need to work on? Oh, right, how about I just run. To run. Because I can. I’m lucky in that I’ve discovered an invigorated passion for running. And right now, I want to rediscover what got me from being a runner, to an occasional competitor in an occasional race to a 16 halfs in 1.5 years competitor. I’ve had the good fortune to dive fully into these races, and now I get to take a small break to just…run.
Sure, I have a goal set in mind for 2012, which I’m organizing now. And I have some ideas and I have some, many, things I’d love to change about this year’s schedule and race experiences. But right now, I’m running. So, I lace on my new Newton runners – holy wow these things are light! – and get out the door, do one last run along the path I’ve used in LA for so many training runs. And I feel light, I feel unburdened, unrestricted, free. To run. Because I can. Because I want to. Not because I have to. I’m in control here – not giving over control to someone or something else and to intimidated to say anything or make a change – I’m running because I want to. Yes, there’s a sense of order in training, a schedule to follow, rules to adhere to with best efforts, but at the end of the day, it’s all my choice, no one’s telling me to run or not run, to train or not train. I like the solitude of the sport and the training – I have no fear of that, and I also love the connection, when made, to other runners about it all. The support I’ve received throughout this wild ride has been thrilling and inspirational and so incredibly fun. I can’t wait to determine the best way to give back all that running and the running community has given to me.
So I went for a run to remember why I started running in the first place, even with the ghost of the Miami race right there. “Why I Run!” if you will. To wrap my head around all these races, to get my head in a “next steps” place, to enjoy the feel of the run, the music, the new shoes, the sun on my face, the sweat on my neck, the strength of my legs. And since I can’t help it – yes, I ran that training run, that lap, that 4.5 miles, faster than any time before. Ha!
I can’t wait to go another run. Along the coast in NorCal, along the water, an endurance run that puts a smile on my face. Sure, I have a race in my mind that’s not too far away, but right now, it’s time to take a few minutes to enjoy the 11 in ’11 and spend the rest of the month playing with my stride, sprints, my gail, my form, my music, my shoes and just run, because I’m fortunate enough to be able to run. Simply to run. Blessed and happy indeed.
Fall down 10 times, get up 11
How to reflect on the final of 11 half marathons? My initial reactions right after the race, the one’s after a day of processing, where they’re at now, a couple days post race? No real idea where to start this one. Admittedly a little subdued at the moment – taking it all in, sitting on a plane back to the West Coast from my final race. Final. Race. Of the year. I did it, I did them all. This has been an incredible year and I’m sure there will be more reflection on it all, but first I should do my due diligence to review race #11 on it’s own.
Ah, the excitement, the “go get ‘em!” texts and emails and FB posts, the nervous energy, the inability to sleep, the comfort in my upcoming routine, the apprehension about “what now? never mind, think about that later”, the curiosity of the course and upcoming experience. Went through it all the night before. And for an East Coast race, got about the standard four hours of sleep, then up and at it – a little odd when two family members are in the room and you try to be quiet making coffee (oh that was a long week sans coffee) and getting dressed to hit the gym for an hour, warming up pre-race. Even get a five minute quiet moment on the roof of the motel, the moon peeking out behind some clouds, a few stars still in the sky and I reflect on it all, say hi to my dad, and ask him to come run “with” me today. I get a feeling he’s with me.
All going according to plan, feeling excitement, even playing “Eye Of The Tiger” while in the gym solo, getting excited to pull it all together. And feeling solid. LA was the October 30 race where it felt like it was coming back, I was coming back, my legs were solid and I could do not only the whole race but push myself to a good time. Was excited about the so-called “flat and fast” course and starting it off with my dear friend Marcie.
The short 15 minutes walk full of bouncy energy is just what I need – My Race Ragz race shirt on, my sis and mom each wearing theirs and the sun starting to come up. In fact, just over the ocean it starts to turn orange and blue sky opening up over us. I’m feeling a few emotions come over me as I realize the enormity, for me, of what I’ve done and what I’m about to do. As my friend Dana said – it’s one thing to say you’re doing this, it’s another to follow through and do it. I’m defying the odds in a sense. So many times this year it seemed to make better sense to give in or give up, and with some pretty damn good reasons, but I didn’t. I didn’t give in, and I didn’t give up. And I didn’t on this race either.
I find Marcie in corral three and some big teary hugs are exchanged with my family looking on. Big hugs to family and time to put my game face on. It feels good. I feel good. I can’t wait to get going. It’s been a little distracting these last few days for me, but I put that out of my head and enjoy the idea of just frickin running for a while. About 13.1 miles. As I’m moving forward in my corral 2, after the first one goes and we’re getting ready to be called, I see a penny on the ground, and it’s heads up (my superstition about the penny goes like this: pennies are good, pick them up for good luck if they’re heads up, and if tails up, flip it over for someone later to get the good luck heads up penny. Plus my uncle thinks pennies are relatives saying hi…) and I get excited. It’s a good sign. And you’re always looking for good signs in races. Heads up penny in my gear pocket of my little shorts and off I go.
Crap it’s warm. I mean stagnant air warm. Was windy at 6am, not so much at 7. Hmmm. This’ll be interesting. Ok, let’s go. Damn. Wow, humid. Was excited to have had some relatively good weather races, including low heat/humidity in Chicago, low heat in Sonoma and such an early race in Maui that the heat/humidity were fine too. This may come back to haunt me….
Yeah, I had a few tears to start the race. I mean, I was doing it. My family was with me, Marcie was right behind me, I set a crazy goal and despite “perhaps too many?” naysayers and downplayers and so much life (personal and professional, no stone unturned) crap these last two years and five years ago doctors telling me I wouldn’t run again (dudes, may I remind you I have not only run again, I did 11 half marathons this year, and 16 in less than two years. Boo yah!) and I’m fucking doing it. I was a little overwhelmed, and happy, and excited, and in awe and trying to take it all in and also trying to concentrate on being in the moment and also trying to just be in THIS race and and and
Holy crap I’m sweating big time and not sure I’ve even hit the first mile marker. What? Oy. And what is this cotton mouth I’m experiencing? What the what? Ugh. Yuck, this sucks. Hmmm, I will power through every damn mile if I have too. I’m going for breaking 1:50 at least. How about a PR? Or 2nd to PR of this year? I mean, it’s coming back, it feels right, I’m mentally and physically tougher than I’ve been, right? And maybe the humidity is good for my legs, keeping my whole form relaxed from the get go.
Why does everyone seem to be running in slow motion? It looks like we’re all running in molasses. This is weird. Hmm, this could be a long race. I will not walk. I will run the whole race. I will shuffle if I have to. Why am I having this conversation with myself at mile two?
Ok, quick bathroom break at mile three. Damn. Thought I’d planned this all out better, timed it like I usually do. Apparently not. Ok. Deal.
And then.
The wheels fell off.
Mile Four.
Tossed. My. Cookies. On a bridge, on a hill. And for runners, you know you’re not tossing much. To jump into the TMI category full force, it’s more of a trickle spittle disgustingness you try not to get on yourself and then some super fun dry heaving. YAY! Fun!
Hi, body? You there? So, legs feeling pretty good even though hip is annoyed and I know it will shake out soon. Overall, pretty happy. So WILL YOU GET IT THE F TOGETHER INTERNALLY PLEASE???? Thank you, thank you very much.
Body, wait, where you going? Body, come back?
Nope, this will be it. This will be my race. Biting off mile by mile, step by step. Gritting like I’ve never gritted before. Succumbing to some serious issues throughout the race, knowing I’m not alone but unwilling to give up altogether, unwilling to give up the dream time until I absolutely must. I know what I’m capable of, I know what I can do, and I’m willing to pass out at the finish line and throw up if I have to to leave it all, ALL, out on the course. Dammit, this isn’t even close to the race I was expecting or feeling it would be or anything. And no, not much comfort in seeing others struggling too – later in the day I would hear over and over how tough it was for everyone, but I still wanted more.
And then the wheezing starts. The lung pain. Fuck. Now I’m scared. Stop it, get in the moment. This ain’t “it” coming back, we’re not going there. Every step you take, every goddamn step you throw forward, you are winning. If you have to crawl across the finish line, you will. You won’t be the first, you won’t be the last.
Shit, I’m disappointing people. So many cheering me on, thinking I’m “wonder woman” hoping I’ll get my PR, I’m so strong, I have to finish on the best note. Keep going. Grab a gel, grab some water. Why are you walking? Ok, concede you’re still moving forward, you can still do this. One step at a time. Goddamn it’s hot – I feel weird, not exactly overheated but overwrought, lightheaded, can’t get a breath. Keep going. This is your race alone, don’t compare to other races, and you’re definition of leaving it all on the course – this is it. There is nothing more you can do – cry, puke, pee, poop, pass out, whatever it takes, you’re doing it. And yes, look wistfully but not seriously at the med tents you pass. You don’t need that. You really don’t.
Wow the dialogue in my head is epic and unreal. I’m VERY glad I don’t have a tape recorder in there. Oh look, a vibrant half rainbow in the distance, how beautiful! Another good sign! I needed that. Enjoy it.
Mile seven my lungs tried to jump out of my chest. Don’t panic. No anxiety. In the moment. Try to find some semblance of your form, some semblance of racing. Ok, sure, maybe you’re walking to prolong the race, since it’s the last one, and to prolong the race you prolong the overall experience? Haha – nice try, but sure!
Mile eight – hello spectacular rainstorm, thundershower! WOW. Kind of amazingly cool actually. Cooled me down, but also a fun experience to have. I mean, some serious rain showers *drenching* all of us over the bridge. Soaked. Completely. Running through instant puddles. Distraction from pain, discomfort, disconcerting sluggishness. Cool addition. I’ll take it.
Seriously, at this point not just taking it mile by mile or two miles by two miles – this is a true in-the-moment gut it out. Love my shirt. Love my hat. Love my music. Love my guts. Love my tears. Love my legs. Love my feet. Love my knees. Love my head and wherever the hell it’s at. Owning this even if I have to go down swinging. GAWD though it’s SO not what I thought this race was going to be like. Holy instant expectation shifter. Suddenly breaking 1:50 is less important, let’s break 1:55, ok, damn, let’s just break 2:00. When was the last time you ran over 2? First competitive half you broke 2 for run’s sake. Hmmm. There’s at least five different kinds of runners in my head talking at me. Oy.
Hi, little old lady shuffling next to me. Oh, wait, I believe it would be more accurate to say you are passing me. Uphill. Fantastic.
Ok, last two miles. Wheels came off miles ago. Just hang the f on, my dear. You can do, oh, or not. Walk. Fine. Be that way. I’m apparently at war now with my body and mind. Funny thing is…my legs and shoulder feel fantastic, I mean, aside from feeling like I’m running in mud. Dry mud. Up to my neck. Clearly not alone since everyone else is too?
Water. Carbboom (yum at least?) and water. Cytomax. Trying to stave off assessing the race before I’m crossing the finish line. Do. Not. Give. Up. Do. Not. Give. In. Prove them wrong, prove the doctors wrong, prove yourself right. You can do this. Hell, ok, time out. No, I mean, finish time out of the mind. Just run. Smile and run. Because you can run, because you love to run, remember? That a girl. Feels good don’t it. No, I don’t care how fast you’re going. Or slow. You’re running. You love this. It’s nice. Ah, there you go. Settle down. None of it matters anymore, just this step in this moment, the sun on your face, sunglasses on, some familiar and some new tunes, the ability to be here, blessed and grateful for the opportunity.
Hello mile 12! Lovely to see you! And old man (bet it’s someone’s dad) on the right hand corner as you turn is high fiving people. So I take a few steps to my right and get a perfect high five. I needed that. I even got a few chills on my arm for the human contact, that in-the-moment support. Thanks, dude. You were meant to be there. Bet you gave a shot in the arm to a lot of tired overwrought runners.
Why is mile 12 three miles long? Oh. Just feels that way? Hmmm, might have something to do with 15 miles an hour HEADWIND. Seriously? Now? When I’m numb to whatever the hell happened this race and if I have to collapse and be rolled over the finish line I will? Ok. Fine. I see your challenge of this fantabulously ill-timed headwind and not only will I keep going, I will keep running. In your wind tunnel, through dry mud and molasses, with about as much nausea as I’ve ever sustained for this long a run, through lightheadedness and delirium, through seized up lungs that have yet to release, through sopping wet shoes from your little shower, I will keep running. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. Mantra. Over and over. Counting eight steps and repeat. Bringing it in for a finish. Seriously, I still think mile 12 was longer.
Final push, stronger, faster, upright, back straight, tears pricking my eyes, head held high, pass a few folks, determined, no matter what to finish strong and PROUD. Dig deep. You got it in you.
Finish line is on the beach, in the sand, dodge a few holes and hear my name over the loudspeaker. I did it. I crossed. I’m wheezing like hell. I’m woozy. Stumbling and hand out for medal. Stagger to the right side and drop to my knees, holding onto the fence. I can’t move. I’m crying, I’m unsteady, my lungs hate me, I’m immediately hard on myself about the finish time. How could I? How could I not x y z? I look up to the sun and down a cool bottle of water, looking around for my family.
I see them, but suddenly embarrassment and shame washes over me. I failed. No I didn’t. I ran them all. But I didn’t kick ass in this one, I didn’t run like a rock star. I wasn’t wonder woman. I want to just stay in the photo line, head down and not have to walk out and have the final time be a reality.
But I do, I, as always, face it head on and move forward, even if stupendously hard on myself. Mom and sis on the side, big hug from them both as I collapse in exhaustion and tears. “You did it” they whisper. “We’re so proud of you” they say. “You beat it, all of it, you did 11, take that in” they remind me. Deep breath, or as deep as I can do. Searing pain in my lungs. Boo.
Cross through the rest of the post-race pieces and meet up with family and Marcie to take it all in. Lots of hugs, high fives and suddenly a constant murmur through all racing crowd of how difficult that race was, how humid, how warm, how much harder than expected. I have no choice but to take that in. Ok. Walk to the ocean to stand at the waves, and again, take it in, all of it, the whole year. Shhhh. Let it wash over me like the waves in front of us.
Meet up with a few vendors, say thank you, so great to meet you and see you throughout the season. Lots of congratulations, well dones, what’s next year and more. Happy to tell Newton boys I ran all 11 in their superior product. It’s fun, this part, not really yet fully owning the time-disaster (in my mind.) A slow walk back, eager to compare notes with Marcie and talk through the course, the experience, the little things seen along the way only a fellow runner can appreciate in the moment.
Time for a rest. Time to take it in. I take a short nap and have the moment, right when you wake up when you don’t remember where you are or what you’re doing or what just happened – remember those mornings after a breakup or death or fight or diagnosis or crash or getting in trouble or morning of a test or bad news – and for one brief perfect moment it hasn’t hit yet and then it comes rushing back, yeah, that happened. Had that sensation for this race experience after the nap.
But I did it. I did all 11 half marathons. Are you kidding me? That’s what I need to celebrate, that’s what I need to own, build on and love. And some fabulous insight came my way – core temperature. Mine was out of sight at the start of the race, due to the heat (hadn’t yet dealt with it ALL year so no true experience of it to learn from) and the fact that my body was saying, based on my body clock, “what, we’re working out a 2am and a half marathon at 4am? ok, catch up quick” and heated me up maybe a bit more too, adding to the corp temp. Once that went beyond what I could control and regulate, all systems shut down, no matter how much I’d come back, no matter how much I trained for this, wanted it, dreamed about it, visualized it, prepared for it. It just shut down. Wish that rain storm had been the first mile, that might have helped. Regardless, I learned SO much from this race and can apply to the next season. And I’m coming, slowly, to terms with the disappointment of how I wanted to finish time-wise. In fact, it might be my worst time of all 11 races. And, gulp…that’s ok.
Because I set out to run 11 and I ran 11. Period. That I ran so many as fast as I did is motivation for the next race. And not getting the time I wanted on this one has just so very inspired me and invigorated me in a way I never expected. I want that imagined time, and I’m going to get it.
In the meantime, I’m soaking this whole year in, continuing to process it, and learning to truly enjoy it. I live to run, I run because I can, and I love to run. Thank you Miami, this too will stick with me, as all the others. 11 in ’11, on December 11. Lucky number indeed.
Posted in Inspiration + Motivation, Ready to Race, Recovery, Travel, Why I Run! Yeah | 
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I did it!
Haha – ok, fuly aware that I’m writing this not having raced the 11th race yet, knowing this will likely get emailed to peeps after I’m done with the race. But the title belies the truth of what I’m trying to say. No matter what the results tomorrow, I did it. I set a crazy goal and I accomplished it. 11 races. All over the dang country. I got up and did ‘em. So, if tomorrow I fall or cramp or hip snags or I bonk or some other crazyass thing happens, I won’t care, I will know I did it. It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about staying in the game and holy shit have I stayed in the game. And then some. That alone is a reason to celebrate.
And I am. Celebrating already. I’m nervous as I write this, I have excitement and anxiety, fatigue and emotions, feeling a little overwhelmed at all of it – how far I came to get here, the relationships I’ve built along the way, contacts made or renewed, energy stored/zapped/found/invigorated, the stories I have to tell, and that I have one more. In a few hours. Went to Expo out on the sand at Lummas Park in South Beach (wow, Miami is a different world), with mom, sis and Marcie, followed by lunch at the News Cafe. Got a better sense of the area and run (yes, flat!) and the weather seems to be cooperating for a good, warm but not too much so, race.
And the expo itself? Fun – different because it was on the sand and a first for Rock and Roll here, but also fun. Wore my “tour tshirt” brought to me by My Race Ragz and got a lot of comments. Hit the Newton shoe booth first and showed off the shirt, explaining that all 11 races were/are run in Newtons and they were stoked. Showed me the new MV2 which is designed for half marathons and under to shave serious time. Tried them on. Love them. Even toyed with the idea of wearing them tomorrow (no, of course not, cardinal rule) but instead, sniff sniff, hey, 2012, me thinks you have some races to present so I can fly through on these hot shoes. Hit a few other booths, had great conversations with people noticing the shirt, wishing me luck, telling me it’s a cool journey. Went to the Competitor/Rock and Roll booth and had a great conversation with Garrett. who was blown away at what I did (too bad not all 11 were Rock and Rolls, they might’ve done more for/about me this year?!?) and took a picture of my tee to send to his colleagues and said hello to my friend at Nutrilite that I’ve seen at at least five races this year (so love those ice foot baths they have post-race!). All of this to say, something is clicking, something is resonating with people, and with me, about this whole journey, all these races and the sticktoitiveness I’ve dug up through it all. Loving that.
Specifically loving that because it’s helping restore my faith in people and this journey and what I’ve accomplished is helping restore my faith in myself. So much of the last two years has shaken me, personally and professionally, made me question humans and life and the universe and fairness and more, as well as created a crack in my understanding of how things go and how people are treated and the honesty of it all, again, personally and professionally. As in, what’s right or wrong in the world, even though it isn’t black or white. In some ways, the hardest two years of my life, and in some ways, 2011 being the hardest of the two. Soul and heart crushing. And confusing. Gut it out indeed, hold my head up high, chin up, kid, dig down again and again and again to find that personal strength and perseverance to not just survive, but thrive if at all possible. Some of the curveballs thrown by the ex, friends and clients have rocked me and set me on my heels and then some. But I get up and get after it again. I have my down days/weeks, maybe even months. But. You cannot beat me. You cannot take this away from me. You can break my heart. You can fire me. You can laugh at me. You can talk about me behind my back. You can think you’ve won on me. You can patronize me. You can condescend me. You can penalize me. You can judge me. You can show no compassion. You can try to replace me. You can show a lack of empathy. You can think you’re better than me. But. A) Karma’s a bitch and she might be wearing running shoes and you will regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you will, oh yes, and B) You CANNOT underestimate me. Don’t do it. Got nothing on me. Gonna brush the dirt off my shoulders and get after it. Until you’ve walked a mile in anyone’s shoes…
Really actually doing all of these races, fulfilling the goals I set for me and no one else (more on inspiring others later) I’ve demonstrated to myself that I can do what I set out to do, and not matter how many times I fall down or lemons get lobbed at my head, I will not only get back up but succeed. Whether it’s the analogy of how to make it through 13.1 miles as it goes along and all that goes with each race, or whether it is the rise and fall of these 11 races throughout the year, I have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, as difficult as it might have been from physical/mental or emotional perspective, I will keep going, I will not back down and I will win. I will not underestimate myself. Damn you and damn me for ever questioning myself.
In this race, I’ve already won first place.
So, race number 11? Here’s what I got for you. I can’t wait. I’m excited and nervous, just as I should be, as I want to be. I’m going to leave it on the course, everything I got, no damn reason not to. Almost want something to prove to me alone that I really left it all out there, after everything, whether a flop on the finish line or a bruise or a little post-race upchuck. I’m at home in these weekends, in myself, in this arena.
I’m coming home
Tell the World I’m coming home
Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday
I know my kingdom awaits and they’ve forgiven my mistakes
I’m coming home, I’m coming home
Tell the World that I’m coming…home
Back where I belong, yeah I never felt so strong
I feel like there’s nothing that I can’t try
And if you with me put your hands high
If you ever lost a light before, this ones for you
And you, the dreams are for you