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Nov 30

About that rain forecast for CIM

So rain is still on the forecast for Sunday’s California International Marathon. And it’s what everyone is talking about on Facebook on the race’s page. A lot of people have even asked if the race would be canceled due to the inclement weather.

That doesn’t surprise me, in light of the cancellation of the New York Marathon after Superstorm Sandy hit the east coast.

Except this is California.

And it’s rarely THAT BAD here.

In fact, one of the last times we experienced epic flooding in the Sacramento area was 1996. That’s when levees were breached. That’s when whole areas of homes were flooded, including some in areas down by my hometown of Stockton.

But it is never really that bad here. Sure, flooding is projected. But we sometimes define “flooding” as streets getting six inches of water. All the news stations today showed “flooding” just like that.

In any case, I’ve taken a couple days to prepare a plan.

A plan? If it’s not that serious, why would I have a plan?

I’m trying not to start the race completely drenched. I know that will be a fruitless effort once I get going, but I’m going to try to keep dry for a least a minute or two.

First off, the weather is projected to be about 60 degrees.

That’s not cold.

UPPER: So I’m actually planning on wearing a Lululemon Run:Swifty tank as my main race shirt. I’ll wear a long sleeve over it, but not something too heavy. I don’t want to wear something bulky, but I want to be warm. I’ll likely take a Nike wool pullover I have. The wool will keep me warm in the morning, but it’s light enough that I can tie it around my waist during the race. I’m not worried about it getting wet. I’ve run in the rain with it before.

I may, though, opt for just a regular Nike pullover. I’ll take a variety of clothes, just in case.

LOWER: I’m planning on wearing Lululemon Run: Bright at Night capris. I was considering pants, but because it won’t be too cold, I’d rather not have wet ankles. The capris will mean my ankles get wet, but with the wind (it’s supposed to be strong), I’m hoping I’ll also dry off a little too.

VISOR: I’ll wear my Asics visor to keep the rain out of my eyes. I’m opting to not wear a hat, if only because it will just get wet and my hair will get wet. I can handle running with wet hair, so why not just start out that way?

CONTACTS: I rarely, if ever, wear my contacts. I’m more annoyed with them than not most the time. And I’ve just become incredibly comfortable with glasses since I started wearing them in 2004. But my contacts come out every once in awhile, mostly for special occasions. Last year I ran with contacts for CIM. I’m doing it this year mainly because I’d rather not have rain all over my glasses.

SHOES AND SOCKS: I’m applying the fabric protector above to my shoes and socks. It may not work. That’s fine. My hope is that I can get through at least some of the race with dry feet. If it’s the downpour it’s expected to be, I’ll be all wet at the end. I’m hoping that a comfortable pair of socks will mean I don’t have blisters.

TOES: I’m still having issues with my baby toes curling under the toe next to them. I’ve gone through three pairs of shoes and this is still a problem. I actually bought toe spacers because if I end up with blisters, it will be in this area. I used similar toe spacers for the Clarksburg Country Run a couple weeks ago.

These ones are thicker, but I have a blood blister on one of my toes I don’t want to aggravate.

CHAFING: I’m going to use Body Glide everywhere. I’m also taking a small container of it, purchased at an expo a while back, to carry in my capri pocket just in case I chafe along the way. I know there will be Vasoline along the course as well.

BEFORE RACE: And I bought a poncho. I grabbed one for Jennie too. I’m not planning on running the entire race with this, but I likely will run a couple miles if it’s really bad. Or I may just throw it to the side once the race starts. I’m hoping it keeps me dry before the race though, when we’re all standing waiting for the gun to fire.

I know that I am going to be a mess at the end of this. That’s inevitable. But I’m hoping taking some precautions beforehand, and at least planning, will set me on the right path on a rainy day.

I’ve never run a half marathon in rain let alone a marathon, so we’ll see how it goes. I’m trying not to be worried about beating last year’s time. If it happens, it happens.

A lot of people are saying they are just hoping to finish this year. I’m trying not to be too pessimistic about my chances, but I think it’s going to be a “wait and see” thing for me.

But I’m ready. Even with the 100 percent chance of rain.

 

Nov 28

Forecast calling for a very wet California International Marathon

So the weather for this weekend looks awesome for staying inside and lighting a nice fire.

But I’ll be out running 26.2 miles from Folsom to Sacramento instead. On Sunday, the forecast for Sacramento even calls for a “potential for flooding rains.”

Earlier today, the forecast called for 70% chance of rain. Now it’s higher.

Yikes.

I’ve only run parts of half marathons in the rain and cold. This looks like it will be a full deluge for the five hours or so it will take me to finish this thing.

Maybe if it’s pouring down rain I’ll run faster? One can only hope.

But this means I’ll pull out the contacts, which I rarely wear. But it’s better than having my glasses covered with rain drops everywhere. I’ll wear a visor (because a hat will just get wet anyway, so I might as well just wear the visor).

I’m still trying to figure out what shirt to wear, if only because I think it will also be cold. So I want to be warm. But if I get soaking wet and then it clears up, I also want to dry out quick. I also don’t want to lug around a soaking wet long-sleeve shirt forever.

I’m planning on taking a garbage bag to the start. I’ll also take Aquaphor to make sure I don’t chafe. I can’t imagine what chafing would feel like after that long in the rain.

So while I’m not looking forward to running in pouring rain, at least I have a plan.

That said, I’m still crossing my fingers to hope the storms pass and dump all four inches of the rain we’re expecting (apparently it would be a record for rainfall) before Sunday.

It started raining today, so I think we have some hope.

There was a bit of a clearing today during the lunch hour before an afternoon appointment I had to go to. So I headed to a sweet shop in the small town I live in. I picked up some homemade rocky road (nothing like killing a diet during taper week, oops).

Our town put up the Christmas tree in our town square area this week. But the photo is more to show the clouds than the tree. It’s a pretty impressive cloud showing.

I’m not going to let rain ruin my marathon. But I’d love to have a little less wet, a little more sun come Sunday.

Nov 25

Fresh from the finish line smell?

One of the biggest problems with running is that sometimes you smell a little ripe after. My husband never commented on my not so beautiful scent until I started running half marathons. It’s likely because I whenever I finish, even when it’s cold outside, I’m usually covered in sweat.

So I found it funny that when I got home yesterday, after a trip to Target for household necessities, that I realized something interesting about my newest “stick” of deodorant.

I bought deodorant, the “sport” kind because of all the working I’ve been doing lately.

When I was taking it out the box I noticed it was “marathon fresh scent.”

All I thought about when I saw the name was how bad I smell after I run 26.2 miles, which by the way happens for a third time next Sunday when I line up for the California International Marathon.

Today was my last long run before CIM.

In the past three weeks I’ve run 20, 13.1 and 10 miles on each of the Sundays. I’ve put more mileage on for a total of 110 miles so far in November.

I feel more ready for this marathon than I was at this point last year, but today’s run didn’t go so well. It’s likely because we psyched ourselves out.

The last long run before CIM last year was bad too. This run just felt tiring. Every step was exhausting. I think we wanted to get it done a little too much at the beginning. It didn’t go by as fast as our runs usually do either.

On a brighter note, I did get to try out my “marathon fresh scent” after and I’m glad to report it doesn’t smell like I do after I finish running that far. It actually smells like a mix of citrus and flowers, an odd but workable combination.

A good sign for the marathon maybe?

I’d like to hope. I need some good signs lately.

Nov 23

A course best at the Big Sur Half on Monterey Bay

First things first: If ever given the opportunity to run along the coast, any coast, you should. There’s something about salty wind blowing on my face, the smell of the water and beauty of the waves cresting on the coastline that’s soothing.

I love running in San Francisco for this reason. I love runs along the water nearly anywhere in the Bay Area.

Monterey Bay is a beautiful place to run, only rivaled by the actual Big Sur Marathon which transverses 26.2 miles from Big Sur to Carmel. In April, I ran 21 miles of the marathon as part of the Big Sur 21-miler.

It was shortly after running that I again signed up for the Big Sur Half Marathon onMontereyBay. The course runs 13.1 miles of rolling hills along the bay. Last year, it was dreary, but not cold. It was also more than I was expecting at the time.

I figured the course would be more flat.

Turns out, it’s a little more quad pounding than I thought.

In 2011, my finish time was 2:37:41.

It was warmer this year, but my training was also more on par. I did a lot better. I ran a 2:28:27.

It didn’t happen my accident. I’ve trained on inclines more this marathon season. With this run, I feel more ready for California International Marathon in less than two weeks.

My mom and I left on Saturday to head to Monterey Bay. We got to the area at about 2 p.m.and headed straight to the expo.

As always, the Big Sur expos are well organized. First bib pick up, then into the vendor area. There were more people in the expo than I expected. Breathe deeply, I thought. We waded through the people to the shirt pick up area.

The 2011 shirts are a nice shade of burgundy. This year, the shirts are a deep purple. They are decorated on both sides, the front celebrating the 10th anniversary (or presentation as the organizers call it), and an image of the Point Sur lighthouse.

We were handed our Gu-brand bags with the race guide, always filled with great stories, and a poster. My mom found a nice pair of yellow sunglasses at the expo, but I didn’t find anything of interest. So we headed out to Fisherman’s Wharf to check out some shops before checking into the hotel.

Volunteers were in the middle of setting up the finish-line area when we walked by. The barricades weren’t yet up, though. These guys were trying to figure out how to get the Velcro sign attached.

I was starting to feel more comfortable, definitely more so than the previous year. After a cheeseburger at a very noisy sports bar, we headed back to the room where I fell fast asleep rather early.

We went to sleep at about 9 p.m.I woke up at about 5:30 a.m., perfect, I thought.

The great thing about this half is that we stay pretty close to the start line. My mom dropped me off about a half a mile away from the corral area. I walked most the way, then picked it up to run.

It was overcast, but didn’t look like rain. Perfect conditions.

Then I freaked out a little bit, when I saw how many people were around. So…I did something kind of irrational. I waited in a portable toilet line and, once I got in one, hid out for literally 15 minutes while I calmed down.

I want to apologize to the other runners for that one. I know proper toilet etiquette is to get in, get your business done and get going, especially at races. But I couldn’t help it. To be fair, a portable toilet is not exactly the place you want to breathe deeply or anything like that. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

After emerging, I walked through the crowd (tense, trying to keep an arm’s length from people, which was actually pretty easy), and headed into Corral G. It was rather spacious in the corral. I actually found a spot in the front, hoping to get out and run faster to get away from people. I guess there’s nothing like anxiety to set a course personal record.

When we started at about 7:15 a.m. I was kind of a ball of nerves. I think that’s why I did so well. Instead of concentrating on being anxious, I was trying to just keep running.

It was a pretty consistent run for the most part.

Mile 1: 10:29— I didn’t think I was pacing out that fast, but I was. We went out down Del Monte Boulevard, past a little park with paddle boats and over a bridge next to a cemetery. These are things I didn’t notice last year.

Mile 2: 11:19 — The first mile of this race seems long, especially considering you’ve already gone through downtown Monterey by the time you reach mile two. And you’ve already done the tunnel. The tunnel was hot and muggy. My glasses fogged up and I had to take off both my hat and my long-sleeve shirt.

Mile 3: 11:25— Slowing, uphills here. Gu here.

Mile 4: 11:38— We hit this mark right after the big hill in Pacific Grove. I couldn’t believe how amazing I did on it this year, walking fast up about a 20-foot section, but then going into a slow run. This was my slowest mile.

Mile 5: 11:08— Downhill and out toward Asilomar State Beach. Getting the pacing more even now.

Mile 6: 10:48— Gu. I felt I needed it to make sure my legs didn’t get tired. I wasn’t feeling fatigue quite yet, but I wanted to get ahead of it.

Mile 7: 11:24— Another bit of an uphill here. Slowed, stopped at a water station and walked longer than I wanted to so I could get myself back together.

Mile 8: 11:23— Got out to the turnaround and headed back toward the finish line.

Mile 9: 10:38— Really felt good here. The Gu was propelling me. This is when I started having real issues with my arm chafing.

Mile 10: 11:24— Arm. Chafing. Hell. But I kept on going.

Mile 11: 11:25 — I’m surprised this mile went so well being that the Gatorade cups weren’t stocked here and we had to wait for someone to fill a cup. Of course, I was there before three others and kept getting ignored by a volunteer. It happens, but I was annoyed. This is where I finally saw the Vasoline guy too. I grabbed a glob of the stuff and slathered it under both arms. Gu here too.

Mile 12: 11:20— Down back into Cannery Row, my favorite mile because it’s the John Steinbeck marked mile. It also marks the last major uphill, which isn’t that bad.

Mile 13: 11:34— Pushing at the end. Feeling good and realizing that I’m likely going to do really well in this race.

Mile .27: 2.33 — I look at my Garmin and kick it for the last bit, which ends up being longer than the .1. I’m usually about that much off on each course.

Official chip time: 2:28:27 for 13.1 miles

Garmin time: 2:28:27 for 13.27 miles

I crossed the finish line and was handed my awesome ceramic medal.

That’s a photo of it later, after my shower in the hotel room. After applying a ton of cream under my arms just so I could put on a long-sleeve shirt.

The best part? I felt amazing afterward. Running has been helping me feel better in general, but some days it takes me a lot longer than it should to get up and get going. Once I get past that hurdle, I’m usually good and, even, floating for some time after the run.

In this case, I was floating for the rest of the day.

My mom and I went back to the Wharf and had a little lunch after the hotel. We had a reservation to go whale watching on the bay later.

That was our boat. We went out for nearly three hours and saw some awesome humpback whales. What was nice is that there were hardly any other people on the boat. There were maybe 25 of us in total. So there was a lot of space to walk around.

We spent the rest of the day shopping in little stores in the area and checking out the local scene. It was quiet, mainly because it was Sunday afternoon and many people went home right after the race. We stayed the extra night to have a nice dinner and make our way home slower.

Not a lot of people, which was amazing. That little pink shop on the left is where we spent a good deal of time, checking out all the little knick knacks.

The race was awesome. I stayed hydrated. I loved the experience again. It turned out much better than I expected. I’m glad I didn’t decide that I should stay home for this one. I’m glad I gave myself a kick to get out and get going even when I didn’t feel as if I would be able to perform at my best.

But I did.

I keep saying that I have moments where I see my old self shining through. I’m trying to build on those moments. How do I get those and keep them? How do I stay “in the moment” and not think about everything else impacting my life. I’ve mentioned that I thought my personal problems weren’t about running.

It’s running, though, that’s helping me to get through more than anything else.

Nov 22

Reasons to be thankful

Eventually I’ll get around to my Big Sur Half Marathon on Monterey Bay recap. But today is Thanksgiving. And, despite my recent turmoil, I’m finding I have a lot to be thankful for in my life.

There are people who are and continue to be amazing to me. There are certain events that have happened that I am incredibly grateful to have been part of. I have food on my plate every night. I have a warm home. I have a nice car to drive. I have a lot.

Here’s a short list of reasons I’m thankful today, just because it’s that time of the year. And this is in no particular order.

My grandmother: I’m 28 years old and my grandmother still makes the best Thanksgiving dinner ever. Hands down. Her pies, too, are to die for. My grandfather used to love having family together. After he died in 1996, my grandmother continued to host Thanksgiving. She has done so nearly every year. I’m glad I’m still able to enjoy the holidays with her and she’s still able to host. It gives me a lot of joy to be with her at Thanksgiving.

My brother’s girlfriend Ashley: For making the amazing Rice Krispie treat turkeys seen above. She handed a holiday with my family. And she did so with grace. I think that means she’s a keeper.

My mother: We just finished spending three days and two nights together in Monterey for the half marathon. I’m glad she was able to get away with me on a much needed little vacation. She’s been a constant through all the crap I’ve been dealing with lately. And I’m incredibly thankful for all the support.

(Wo)man’s best friend(s): Our dogs Sky and Beau spent most the day knocking over nearly everything on the first level of our home, but I don’t think I’d be able to make it through some days without them. Beau just seems to know when I need someone to come over and give me a kiss. He puts his head in my lap when I’m sad. Sky gives me her paw to tell me she loves me too. It’s comforting to have my two Chow Chows with me.

Lasting friendships: My best friend and the maid of honor in my wedding came from Stockton last night, where she is visiting parents. I made lasagna and we enjoyed apple pie she brought for dessert. We had a great conversation that lasted more than two hours. That sort of love, especially right now, is amazing to me. I can never say enough thank yous.

My husband’s humor: I’ve had a lot of moments lately where I’ve just wanted to stay in my room and have a good cry. My husband is an amazing man who makes me laugh, even when I don’t want to. He’s good at pulling me out of the darkness and giving me a reason to want to smile again.

My home: Two years ago, we purchased our house in Tracy and quickly went about making it a home. I’m thankful that we have the resources to make it a comfortable place to retreat to and continue to be here for a long time.

Our backyard: My husband worked his tailbone off to put our beautiful backyard together. We can now enjoy it, even in the winter, just by looking out the window. It’s a little overgrown right now, but it’s plush and green and I love looking at it.

Running: It’s my saving grace right now. It’s where I can think. Whether it’s one mile or 20, or 26.2 in less than two weeks, it’s helping me figure things out when times get tough.

My Nikes: Yes, my LunarEclipse’s are on my list. Best pair of running shoes I’ve ever owned. Worth every penny of the $150 price tag. I’m thankful for them every run.

Racing: It makes me feel like myself. It tests my ability. It challenges me to be better. I’ll likely be narrowing down my list  of runs into the next year, but I’m hoping to do some volunteer work to earn me entry into some Brazen races too.  Hopefully I can continue to do races, but cut back on costs too.

My phone not ringing: I never thought I’d be so glad that few people are calling me or reaching out right now. (For those of you who have, yes, I’ve received your words of encouragement and emails, I’m just not quick to respond as of late because I don’t know what to say, how to thank you. I will, though, at some point.) Right now it’s nice not to be on anyone’s immediate call list.

Netflix and Hulu: For being my entertainment on my treadmill. It’s rare I venture out for a run these days and never without Jennie, so I’ve been doing a lot of speed work and distance on my treadmill.

Chocolate: I don’t think I need to explain this. But I really need to eat less of it. I’m getting a little more round than I should be.

Diet Coke: Everyone says it will kill me, but it saved me from my five Pepsi a day habit. Plus I’m no longer drinking my calories.

Lululemon: Luxtreme is smooth. I love smooth. The one day I go without a Lululemon Run:Swifty shirt during a race, I came away with horrible chafing on my arms. Four days later and it’s still healing. I’ll never do that again. There’s a reason runners stick with what they know. That’s it.

My own turkey trot: Six miles on the treadmill this morning. I also donated $10 to the Red Cross. I’m more relieved that I skipped the local one than not now, especially since I was able to do some good (by donating).

Hopefully I’ll be able to blog my Big Sur Half recap before the weekend ends. I’m looking forward to talking about what went right and what went wrong. So much more went right than wrong.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Nov 21

Reasons to run on Monterey Bay

I’ll be writing a detailed race report of my nine-minute course record experience at the Big Sur Half on Monterey Bay, but realized I have a ton of photos from the two nights I spent on the Central Coast with my mom.

First of all: It was just what I needed. It felt good getting away. (It didn’t feel good coming home, realizing I had to face reality again, but that’s for another post at another time.)

My mom and I did this trip last year too since my husband isn’t a fan of traveling for races.

We had a good time. So when I signed up for this race in May I invited her again. We had a really good time again. We walked around, we went on a whale watching tour and explored the Monterey peninsula.

It was a beautiful weekend.

The weather was rainy when we left the Central Valley on Saturday afternoon. It poured for the first 20 minutes of our ride down Interstate 5. But then the skies became clear, for the most part. When we got to Monterey Bay, it was partly cloudly with a 30-percent chance of showers on Sunday morning.

It was a perfect weekend to take in the sites and relax. I was tempted, numerous times, to cancel this trip in light of what happened a few weeks ago.

I didn’t because it was $115 to register for the race. I had a $348 hotel booked as well. And my mom was really looking forward to it. So I was.

I was affirmed by my husband who told me it would be good for me to leave. He said it would be nice to get away from everything and be somewhere else.

I’m glad I went now.

Because it was an amazing weekend.

We even walked Cannery Row, which I ran on Sunday, before we left to come back home.

There were workers painting the candy cane-colored fence around the tree, which we ran by, and prepping everything for Santa to arrive in his coastal getaway from the North Pole.

Everywhere we went, there were waves crashing up and down the coast. The weather was perfect. Conditions, overall, were just beautiful.

Perfect running weather.

I figured I’d share these images after my gross chafing post. These are much easier to look at.

Nov 20

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A public service announcement on chafing

This is going to be a rather gross post. For that, I apologize in advance. But I think this sort of thing is important to address, especially with the number of winter races coming up.

This weekend, my mom and I ventured to Monterey for me to run the Big Sur Half Marathon on Monterey Bay. This was my second year doing so. And, for all my hiding in the portable toilet for 15 minutes and not being able to sleep too well the night before, I did really well. I knocked nine minutes off my time from last year, running a 2:28:27.

I also now know that, if I can pull myself together, I have a good chance of doing well at the California International Marathon in a couple weeks.

But that’s not what this post is about. I’ll get to weekend specifics and the race in the next couple days.

It’s about chafing.

Specifically, how bad it can get really quick.

Behold, the grossness of chafing.

That’s why I buried the lede here. It’s pretty gross. And this isn’t exactly the best photo. But you can see how badly torn up my fat little arms are. I’ve mentioned before that my upper arms don’t ever seem to lose weight. So my “fat little arms” are always rubbing.

I started the run with a long-sleeve shirt on. But by the time I hit the underground tunnel taking runners from downtown Monterey en route to Pacific Grove, I was taking it off and wrapping it around my waist.

That meant that my arms were exposed.

I usually wear Lululemon Run:Swifty shirts when I run. This time, I wore my Big Sur Half Marathon short-sleeve tech shirt under my long-sleeve layer.

I didn’t notice the chub rub at first. As we got to the turn around at Asilomar State Beach, I wasn’t feeling any pain. It was about the time I hit the mile ten marker that my arms started hurting. I looked down and realized my arms were chafing. Bad.

And it kept getting worse.

That was the point, too, where I hit two water stops without medical tents with Vasoline. Usually there’s someone waving a cardboard around with it. I couldn’t find anyone.

My fat little under arms were burning. I took my Lululemon long-sleeve from around my waist and stuck it under my arms. I was doing anything I could to keep the sweaty skin from rubbing anymore against my shirt’s sleeve. This is a shirt I’ve worn on runs before, but never sweating as much as I did for this run.

I held the long-sleeve between both my arms as tight as I could and just kept running. Finally, I saw a guy with a panel of Vasoline. I grabbed a huge lob and threw it, literally, under both arms. I was completely unapologetic about it. It was gross. It hurt. And I did it to myself.

And yet, it was still bad. These blurry photos are two days later. My arms are just now feeling as if I could maybe wear a running shirt again. And I’ve used lots of cream, specifically Aquaphor, to help the wounds heal. It hurt to even put a shirt on after the run.

By the way those lines are stretch marks. They’ve been there since I lost the 30-plus pounds when I started running.

Still, my fat little arms aren’t losing any weight.

So I figured I’d write a more lighthearted post from some of the more serious, personal ones I’ve done lately. This is a public service announcement on chafing.

Buy Glide. Or something similar. Even during the winter months, when it seems as if you won’t necessarily be sweating as much, it’s best to apply and reapply the glide. Just do it.

And also, stick to what you know for race clothes. I wear different shirts on my short runs than on my long runs. I should have known better. I should have stuck with my tank top instead. But it wasn’t “something new” on race day, so I figured I’d be okay.

Nope.

Wear Glide. Save your arms. Simple enough.

And that concludes my public service announcement.

Nov 15

Worst. Marathon. Ever.

No. I didn’t run a marathon and forgot to tell on here. Though, if there was a marathon that offered a medal of Domo, I’d be all in. Like right now.

The marathon I’m running right now isn’t even one I have to lace up my Nikes for. It’s the marathon happening in my life.

If you could equate a lifetime to 26.2, I would be hitting “the wall” relatively early. Right now, I’m hitting it everyday.

Simple things are hard at first. Deciding when to wake up? Difficult. Getting out of bed? Tough. Getting in the car to drive? Scary. Trying to have some semblance of life before the panic attack? Seemingly impossible.

Five days after it happened, I realized I was different.

“Did I have a breakdown?” I asked my mom.

She responded in the affirmative.

Well crap.

A friend the other day referred to it as “the episode.” People ask me how I am. They don’t know that by the time they see me, I’ve usually had to overcome four or five moments of sheer terror before I can even get myself going in the morning.

I’m not going to lie, I’m not doing well. I thought, three weeks out, I’d be better. I thought the confidence in my voice would return. I thought I’d be cleared to return to work. I thought this would all be past me.

Yesterday marked the first time since “the episode” (sounds funny like that doesn’t it?), that I was able to talk about it without completely breaking down. Progress? Yes. Enough? No.

I got in my car on Monday to go to the store only to sit in it for 20 minutes while I figured out what, exactly, was making me so worried. Why was I so anxious?

I’m told I have to retrain my mind to get past the objections and the fear. I told my therapist that I’d been avoiding filling my gas tank up in my car. She asked why. Because I’d have to get a full tank. Then I’d have to wash the window. Then it would just be better to wash the whole car. And what if, at the gas station, I realized I needed something from the store? I’d have to go.

It sounds irrational as I type it. But I still don’t want to go get gas.

It took me six days to make a phone call necessary to my recovery. Six days. I would normally not have a problem picking up the phone.

A letter from work tells me I’m “required” to apply for disability. Fine. Doing the actual paperwork was a lesson in humility.

I couldn’t get through the little red boxes for days. And all I was doing was entering my name and other basic information.

What happened to me? Where did I go?

Today I’m angry about it. Today I’m upset that the people who should have noted a change in my behavior instead ignored it. Today I’m heartbroken because there were so many chances for someone to intervene.

I didn’t hide it. Not at all. My self-destruction was evident. I joked about my anxiety initially. It’s not so funny now. Not when it’s become paralyzing.

I was told to journal my thoughts. That part is easy. In written words, it flows. I feel more normal than I typically do. I’m able to reach a part of me that seems distant. But in person, I’m still clinging for familiarity. I can be in larger environments, because anonymous people don’t bother me.

But the thought of signing up for a local 10K Turkey Trot? I don’t even want to go there. I’ll see people I know. People who read this blog. People who want to ask how I’m doing. And I’ll shut down.

In Kindergarten I had a teacher who pin notes on my back so I’d remember to take it home to my parents. I’m tempted to pin a note to myself that says “leave me alone” and leave it at that.

I’m trying to grasp this in a way that will help me see through it, so I know there will eventually be an end to all of this. That’s where the marathon comes in. But this one is much worse than San Diego. This one doesn’t just rub your feet raw, it also hurts your lower back and breaks your will. This marathon is mean. And it knows it to.

So how do you attack a mean marathon? Training. Lots of training. Distance runs. Speed work.

It’s like running a race and powering through the water stops where they’ve run out of water, or where you can’t feel your toes anymore.

You just keep going. Right?

Nov 15

Gift idea for a runner: Mini first aid kit

It’s no secret that runners, probably more often than the regular person, get blisters on their feet and other places on the body (hello chafing) as part of our training.

It’s also no secret that, in some cases, there is no way around those blisters.

So we have to suck it up in a lot of cases and hope that our feet and toes don’t get too thrashed in the process.

That’s part of the reason a small first aid kit is always in my gym bag. One that includes something to clean my wounds, and fix my running battle scars up for the ride home.

I found this little kit, with a plastic case and all, on a recent trip to my local 99-cent store. That’s right, for under a $1 I found this kit.

It includes:

– Two hand-cleansing wipes

– Four gauze pads

– Two  regular-sized Band-Aids (name brand, yes)

– Four smaller Band-Aids

– The plastic case

Seriously, all for under a $1.

This is the perfect little stocking-stuffer gift item for a runner, even if, like me, he or she already has a first aid kit in their gym bag. I like this smaller-sized kit because I can also put in my my backpacks or even in my glove compartment just in case.

For the price, too, you can even buy the kit just for the contents, which are definitely worth more than that, and refill a kit you already have.

And, lets face it, a runner will likely always need something to clean up those race war wounds, so it’s bound to be useful.

Nov 13

Taking on 20 in Clarksburg

The 20-mile run is the pinnacle of marathon training. In a training cycle it’s the training run that is often feared. It’s also the one that most would-be marathoners rejoice about when it’s over.

It’s daunting for many reason. For me, it’s been incredibly more daunting for the past couple weeks. I was considering not doing this race. I figured, if anything, I could go out and do my own the same day. I knew the likelihood of me actually doing the run on my own was really low, though.

So I was more than glad when Jennie decided to head up and run with me. Overwhelming glad.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. after having a not-so-great night on Saturday. I just didn’t want to leave the bed. So I laid there until I fell asleep. I put on my running clothes, opting for long capris over my winter running pants, and headed out the door when it was still dark.

By the time I go to Jennie’s house to pick her up, the sun was rising. At that point, my nerves were killing me. I’m trying to stay away from things that trigger my anxiety. I felt okay, though, as we got on the freeway and started our 60-mile drive to Clarksburg.

Clarksburg is a little town right next to the Sacramento River. We run along the river in many areas (including a beautiful levee that I just seemed to fly on) and on country roads that go by vineyards. Needless to say, it’s an amazing run.

Jennie and I got to the southern part of Sacramento around 7:15 a.m. I had a moment when I didn’t know which way to turn…but then saw the signs.

This race was good for more than a couple reasons, but one was the signs leading the way.

Immediately upon exiting Interstate 5, there were signs pointing the way. There was one pointing over the only bridge to access the levee road leading to Clarksburg. From there, a man with a bright-orange flag led us into the Delta High School parking area, in an athletic field.

Jennie hadn’t pre-registered, but we had a good amount of time for me to pick up my race packet and her to do so.

We were greeted with only a small number of people, being that the half marathon started 45 minutes after the 20-mile run.

There was a lot of space, not a ton of people.

I waited in the pre-registration line for about five minutes. That was it. I was handed by bib number and some safety pins and then pointed to the shirt table.

By the time I was finished checking in, Jennie was done with her registration too. We were there early enough that, even though she registered that day, she was able to get one of the event shirts in her size. Kind of a win with smaller races.

We headed back to the car and started getting our supplies ready, including our water bottles.

Then we headed back to the start line area where there was zero wait for the portable toilets.

Zero.

That’s a runner’s favorite site ever. There were ample enough portable toilets for everyone. The wait, even about 20 minutes later when I decided to go again, was minimal at best.

One of my favorite things to see are portable toilets. I won’t lie. It’s beautiful.

We watched the beginning of the children’s races as we waited for the 8:30 a.m. start time.

And pondered the fact that we wouldn’t be seeing the finish line for likely some time. I estimated it would take me around four hours, maybe a little more, to finish. But I was running naked — it’s been almost a month since I sent my Garmin 405CX to Kansas for servicing. It still hasn’t come back. I figured it would be back for this run.

No go. So I ran without.

I’m starting to think that might have been why I did so well.

Jennie and I started getting prepped for the run as we waited.

Jennie was checking her phone for the last time before she put it away for the run. We were talking, at that point, about moving to a sunny area. It was cold. The temperature was in the 40s it seemed. I’m not really sure what it was exactly, but there was frost every.

Jennie also got a photo of me stretching.

Apparently I’ve lost weight. I’ve also dyed my hair red, in case you can’t tell from previous photos. I haven’t been eating well, but I’ve been running miles upon miles. I also, lately, felt as if I need something new in terms of my hair. I’m not sure how much I like it.

For the first week I had it, the dye seemed to get all over my workout clothes every time I ran.

But I digress.

Soon, it was time to line up at the start.

The gun went off before we knew it and we were off.

The first three miles were tough.

I started wondering how I’d make it through 20. Even though large groups aren’t the biggest trigger of my anxiety, I’m afraid of what could potentially trigger it. Familiarity is huge for me right now. It soothes me.

But Jennie hung with me for the first five miles or so before she had to cut off and go to the bathroom. I kept on. I didn’t see her again until right after mile nine. At that point she was only about 10 minutes before me.

I kept pushing, along the roads (with cars going by in some cases, yikes), and it didn’t seem that long until I hit mile 10.

After that, we hit a levee area as we ventured into mile 11.

That’s when I really hit my stride. I just kept going. I was running like I’d never run before. Why? I don’t know. There were very few people around me. I even past 10 or so people.

Jennie always comments that I tend to get stronger as a runner in the later miles. She was completely right for this race.

I just jetted.

And then I found myself at mile 13, then 14, then 15, then 16 and so on.

I just kept going. I walked through aid stations and drank both water and Gatorade. There were the perfect amount of water stations. The volunteers were amazing. They cheered as we went through and offered words of encouragement.

I walked here and there, but never for longer than a minute.

I had no idea what time I was running. Not at all. As I came up to mile 19 and slight hill, I walked a little before deciding to push it to the end.

When I came around the corner into the finish shoot I noticed the clock still read in the three-hour area.

I finished at 3:59:17. Below the 12-minute mile mark, but just barely. I would have likely done better if I hadn’t had walked so much here and there, but I didn’t want to risk injury with a half marathon next week and a full in three.

Then I waited for Jennie.

She came in looking strong as well, finishing about 20 minutes after me.

Jennie always seems to have a lot better form than me when she runs. She got a little behind in the run, taking care of some personal stuff on the phone, but ended up passing a ton of people to get back into it. Plus, she was so nervous about running 20 miles when her longest run had been a 15-miler with me more than six weeks ago.

But she did great.

And I did great. I felt great too.

After we finished, we were told the race officials had run out of medals. After 20 miles, they’d run out of medals. As bummed as I was, it didn’t matter because I finished in under four hours. (They have promised to send them to us when they make some more, though when I had to find the person to put my name down she asked “do you want a medal?” which I thought was weird. Of course I do. The medals were fairly epic, though, from what I’ve seen.)

We got a hot, free pasta lunch too. We sat down, a little sore in some areas, and enjoyed the spoils after such a long, and successful, run.

As we started to get ready to leave, we noticed something strange.

This portable toilet had tape preventing people from entering. I was looking for a toilet with paper, because the rest didn’t seem to have any, and was wondering why, so we approach.

Turns out if had a bit of a hornet problem.

That’s the first time I’ve ever seen that at a race. Jennie and I had a laugh about it.

The Clarksburg Country Historic 20-mile Run turned out to be an incredible experience. Not only did I feel accomplished after the run, but a day later my legs feel fine. I’m really proud that I got up and out instead of avoiding it altogether like I initially wanted to.

This experience gives me hope for next week’s Big Sur Half Marathon. A lot of hope.

Why was it so good?

It was a small race, with only about 500 people doing the 20-mile run. There were enough portable toilets to accommodate everyone without any problem. The people were friendly and nice. The runners were cordial, for the most part (I could have done without the Obama/Romney debate I heard for more than a mile). Getting there was easy, as was parking.

The shirt is pretty swell too.

For what that’s worth. Plus, the cost of only $45. That’s an incredibly good deal for the amount of supplies along the course, which included bananas and oranges at every aid station, as well as Gatorade and water. It also included the free lunch.

My only qualm would be that there was only one portable toilet at each of the aid stops, which meant lines went deep. That’s one of the reasons Jennie finished so far behind me, as she had to stop and go to the bathroom near mile five.

I felt supported along the entire path, though. And it was a fun day. I definitely recommend this race for anyone training for a marathon, specifically California International Marathon.

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