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Dec 30

The new plan

dinner

I’ve decided I need a new plan. A new approach to training. And a new approach to eating, all bundled together.

In the past couple weeks, I’ve started running longer again only to have sharp pains running through my left knee. I figured it was overuse from the marathon. I figured it would get better.

So I backed off my knee. I set my treadmill on the highest padding level. I didn’t increase speed, but kept increasing incline instead.

The knee still seemed to be stiff. I rolled my leg out and it still didn’t get better.

I was really starting to think I did something really wrong to it.

Then, today, I went to get my monthly massage. My therapist is a miracle worker. She’s really good at spending time in the areas where I need it most, which means she focuses on my legs quite a bit. Today, she worked my right leg without any problems. She applied pressure in just the right areas. While it hurt, it wasn’t too bad.

Then she got to my left leg. I told her about the knee pain.

And she found the spot, immediately. When I realized what it was, I should have known.

My IT band, which has given me problem after problem in the past year, had flared up again. I didn’t notice that was it specifically because I hadn’t been running as long or hard as I had been previously.

When she got to the beginning and end of the bad, though, there was a considerable amount of pain. I felt as if I had been punched. My therapist applies the right amount of pressure too. It was just so tender that I wasn’t expecting it to hurt so bad.

But there it was. My IT band is inflamed again.

So I’m making some new plans. I have a 10K in late January. I ran eight on the treadmill yesterday and felt OK, but I know I’ll need to be stronger than I am now.

In January, I’m going to focus on:

– Giving my IT band the recovery time it needs

– Eating better by religiously following Weight Watchers

– Running faster as I focus on weight loss

Why the big focus on weight loss? I’m starting to feel as if the reason my IT band is acting up is because I’m carrying too much weight around on my body. Three years ago, I started Weight Watchers on New Year’s Day and by April had lost about 30 pounds. I’m not nearly as big as I was then, but I’m hoping to get back down to 155.

I’m also hoping that the better eating will help some gastrointestinal problems I’ve been having lately which have made running difficult in many ways.

I usually don’t make New Year’s resolutions because my resolutions involve just continuing to run and be healthy. This year, I’m actually spending some time trying to make healthy even more healthy.

I’m starting with my IT band. And limiting the amount of food you see above (though, it was good and it was also work related, so I had to do it, kind of).

Now I’m going to go spend some time rolling out my IT band a little bit more. It’s really, really aching right now. I think that’s good, because it means I now know where the problem is. But it also hurts, which sucks, because now I’m having issues walking up my stairs. I hope this is the beginning of recovery … and not another setback.

I’ll be blogging my training plans for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon in the next few days. I have some definite ideas to make the experience more pleasurable than last time, so I can forget about that 2:48 finish last year.

Dec 23

Hitting 1,200 miles

1200

A lot has happened in the last week, including a huge milestone for my running. I set out this year to run 1,000 miles by Dec. 31. I had missed the number by 70 miles last year, when I had no real goal.

I reached the 1,000 mark in October, with an average of nearly 100 miles a month. And it’s not even because I’m torturing myself. My longest run lately has been seven miles. It went well, but I’m also not training for a half marathon until February, so this is more “downtime” for me. This month I’m at 75, hoping to reach 100 in the next week or so before New Year’s Eve.

This number is a huge milestone for me, for some pretty obvious reasons.

The first is all the problems with anxiety and depression I’ve had since October. I could have stopped running completely, just given up. I didn’t. I kept going because I had a goal with the marathon.

I think, if not for California International Marathon, I might have given up.

The second is that I feel like a stronger now.

I’ve read recommendations that say a runner shouldn’t take on a marathon in the first year of regular running. I went totally against that. I ran my first half marathon in March 2011. That same year I decided, in June, to run California International Marathon. And I did. It was my first.

I felt stronger this year, but the rain and wind threw me off balance pretty significantly.

In any case, I’ve now run three marathons. I’ve also done a six-hour endurance run.

Many things paved my way to 1,000. But my crediting resilience for getting me to 1,200. By the end of this week, I’ll likely have run 300 more miles than I did last year. I’m excited to get there too.

I mentioned that a lot of things happened this week, including me going back to work.

I’ll sum up the first two days with one word: tough.

It was really, really hard to be back. When I first walked in the building my heart beated fast, my body got tense and my head pounded a little. But I seemed to get through it, even when it was uncomfortable. There were many points when that was the case. I felt unsure. I felt threatened. Waves of paranoia hit me.

People keep telling me it will get better. But I came home crying on Friday night, frustrated and tired, feeling more ostracized than ever. I knew it would be hard. I didn’t know it would be this hard. I go back again tomorrow. Another day to try. Another day to challenge myself to be present, to pull my confidence together and get through it.

I don’t know a lot of things right now, but I’m sure of one — I’ll keep running this marathon-like race to get better.

Dec 19

Owning the breakdown, finding my ‘dawn’

beau

I’m putting up a photo of Beau, if only because this will be a really serious post. At 3:30 p.m. today, I was cleared to return to work.

In many ways, I’m relieved. In others, I’m petrified. As much as I’ve been working toward this for the past few weeks, I’m incredibly scared about what this all means.

I’ll explain.

Earlier this year, I was sitting in an afternoon news meeting as we were talking about one of the high number of homicides that had happened in Stockton, and I suddenly couldn’t move. My chest became tight. I didn’t feel as if I could talk. I had to look at a coworker to zone out of it. Otherwise, I fear I would have had my breakdown much sooner than October.

I went to my doctor. I told him what had happened.

“I froze,” I said. “My chest got tight. I couldn’t function.”

I had the classic symptoms of a panic attack. Moreover, mood swings I was experiencing and an inability to concentrate at work, were signs of something more. Depression.

I was prescribed Zoloft to help me “level out.” And everyone told me not to talk about it. At all. Don’t write about it. Don’t blog about it. Keep quiet.

Why? Because mental illness carries with it a stigma. People will think I’m “crazy,” people told me.

“People don’t talk about that stuff in public,” another person said.

This has been a big topic that’s been in the news a lot this past week, as mental health professionals talk about the need for more options (and consequences) due to the Sandy Hook school shooting. It’s true, many people don’t consider mental issues a disability. And where I live, there are very few options for mental healthcare. My previous doctor told me to “find someone to talk to” without recommending anyone. I’m thankful that my current doctor recommended an amazing therapist to me.

So I didn’t talk about it, outside of a couple jokes here and there about my “happy pills.” The Zoloft helped, tremendously. I was able to regain some, but not all, control of how I was feeling. I felt better about life. I felt better about work.

Then a string of thing happens that threw that all out of balance.

After nearly four years in the same desk, I was moved across the room at work to a highly-trafficked desk. My seat faces toward a main passage way from one side of the newsroom to the other. Nearly everyone passes me before and after they go to the bathroom.

And they want to talk. All the time.

Add on that my desk has a counter and suddenly “my stuff” is no longer my own. I have a Magic 8 ball (that is slightly broken because it rarely, if ever, lands on an actual side with a fortune) that seems to attract people. It’s on my desk, but they pick it up. When I moved, more and more people started doing it. They also “borrowed” pens. And books. Then they decided to play with my desk monsters, a group of stuffed animals I’ve had forever.

Plus, that counter is where everyone puts food. So not only did people stop and talk. They also stopped and grabbed my stuff. And they stopped to eat.

Anytime a food item showed up on that counter, people asked me where it came from. Most the time, I didn’t know.

Along with all that, people constantly walked by and “tapped” the counter. This was also a constant.

Sound petty? Fine. But these little things kept compiling on top of one another. New food would show up. An item would be picked up. I tried to embrace it. This would be good, right? Change is good, no? For me, change was not good. Every little thing became a magnified distraction. I tried noise-cancelling headphones. That didn’t work either.

I tried repositioning my computers to create a “great wall of technologically” and that didn’t work either.

Then, after months of waiting we were given new computers right in the middle of football season, our highest production time of the year. On average, we put through four to five videos a week during football season.

But the computers came. And there were no “instruction guides.” Instead, I was told by one person to “Google it.” As the leader of a department with only two people (myself included), I had to figure out how to transition onto new machines, with a completely new video editing program seamlessly.

There’s much more to it then all this, but needless to say, blow after blow kept coming my way. I was already anxious. And depressed. All these things (in addition to some others) sent me over.

I left work on Oct. 25 crying. The tears started in the newsroom. I couldn’t hold it together as I left the building. By the time I hit the gate, it was full-on waterworks. Everywhere. By the time I finished my 20-minute drive home, I was covered in tears. I don’t even remember the drive home. My heart was beating fast. I couldn’t breathe. I barely could call my husband and tell him what was happening.

I tried to change into my workout clothes. I kept thinking “if I can just get on the treadmill, I’ll be OK.”

I wasn’t.

Instead, I went into a paralyzing frenzy in my closet. I yelled. I flung. I didn’t want to be touched.

My mom came. Within an hour, I was in a hospital be where I was apparently repeating “I don’t know who brought the damn granola bars” until I was given Ativan. The next day, I cried all day. It was a battle to get up and going the next three weeks. Some days it took me literally an hour to leave the house. Some days I didn’t leave the house at all.

I wanted to disappear.

I’ve spent every week since then in therapy. And you know what? I want to talk about it. I don’t want to hide it or act like it didn’t happen.

It happened. To me. It happened when I thought everything was under control. It happened. I can’t take it back.

And I’ve been through hell to get back to where I am now, which is nowhere near where I was before. Will tomorrow suck? Likely. I’m going to have to go back into the place where my breakdown started. I’m going to have to face things that will make me uncomfortable.

But I also have to try. I have to try despite the fact that some coworkers told me not to come back. I have to try despite the fact that it will be hard. I have to try so that I can be whole again.

I have to own what happened to me. I have to work through it.

There’s no “cure” here. There’s no magic pill that will make me all better.

But damn it, I’m not hiding it because everyone wants me to. I’m not going to hide it because it makes people feel uncomfortable. I had a breakdown. It sucked. I cried. A lot. I hated everyone. I refused to leave my house. I fought demons that I never thought I would before. I’ve been to hell.

And now I’m back. Or, at least, I’m trying to be.

The Florence & the Machine song “Shake it Out” says “it’s always darkest before the dawn.”

I’m still working to find the dawn. But now at least I know the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t hellfire (unless you believe Dec. 21 is the end of the world) or a train coming at me. It’s something I’ll eventually get to. In time.

Dec 16

Lately

What I’ve been up to, in photos, from the past few days…

lately1

For Christmas, my grandmother gave me some money (early) to purchase a desk from World Market. I found out, a couple days later, that the desk was no longer available. So I searched for something similar and came up empty.

So instead, I opted to finally get a painting I was given from my maid of honor and best friend for my wedding framed. It had been in my bedroom for the past few years. It was supposed to be done on Dec. 8, but the craft store was running a little behind.

lately5

My friend’s daughter had her sweet sixteen birthday party last night. I haven’t been to a birthday party that big since I was in high school. I found some photo booth props online for download and printed them out and put them together for the party. My favorite was the Batman-type one.

lately2

I got a hair cut the other day, much needed, and realized I also needed an update on my hair color. I went to Target, where all cheap chicks buy their hair color. Too bad I couldn’t find the “chocolate cherry” that I had used earlier this year.

Instead I found a mahogany color. It’s a little darker, which looks awesome.

And only $7.99.

A big plus was this time around, I didn’t get hair dye all over my clothes, or my towels. I didn’t even get any on my running clothes the next day. I normally go a brown color similar to my natural color, but figured I’d try something warmer these past two times.

lately4

I bought shelves some time ago for one of our guest bedrooms so that I could put up my collection of “monsters” from the past couple years. I kept waiting for my husband, though, to put them up. On Friday, I decided that it was time for me to take matters into my own hands.

So I did. I grabbed the level and had these shelves up in about 20 minutes. The monster collection is no on display.

lately3

To cap off the past couple days, we headed to the sweet sixteen. I’m lucky I’ve been feeling a lot better lately, especially with the anxiety and depression plaguing me. I have an appointment Wednesday to, potentially, go back to work later in the week.

While I am relieved on one hand, I’m also incredibly scared.

I’m trying to put together a training plan in the next day or so for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Pasadena Half Marathon. There’s a pretty significant hill right at the beginning. Last year, I ran a horrible 2:48 race. It sucked. I was tired and pissed off for most the race.

Before that, though, I have a January 10K.

I was considering signing up for another 10K, one I’ve done for the past few years, but decided against it. I just can’t right now. I need to take some time off to reconsider my training plans, including what I’m going to do to train for the San Francisco Marathon.

I’m also still toying with the idea of signing up for the San Luis Obispo Marathon, which happens in April.

So a lot is still in flux. But, I’m running again. I’m feeling good about my runs. And they don’t feel labored. So I’m over the post marathon slump. Finally.

Dec 12

Gift idea for a runner: Hand warmers

hothands1

Baby, it’s cold outside.

Not as cold as it could be here in California, but definitely not as warm as it was a couple weeks ago. I’m pulling out more of my long-sleeve shirts and jackets to run in. Though, I’m still not back to running since the marathon thanks to the cold of death I can’t seem to shake.

That’s why I invested in some Hot Hands hand warmers recently. I found a two pack in the $1 bin at the local Target. These little cushions of heat keep the hands warm. There are also some for your feet, but my feet already get hot quickly so I didn’t grab any of those.

A couple packs of these makes a perfect gift for a runner. Why?

Consider that we’re often standing around trying to warm up before runs. Our hands, unless you own a pair of running gloves, tend to get cold fast. Sometimes I’d rather not wear my running gloves because I know I’ll end up taking them off mid run.

The solution is a hand warmer to hold onto while you wait and then throw away at the first water stop, or even before the race begins (in the proper place, of course).

A perfect solution. And the price is right.

Dec 11

In my mailbox

For the second time in less than a week, I was greeted with a little package in my mailbox when I came home. This time it was my “triple crown” medal from the Rock ‘n’ Roll series.

I completed three of the company’s runs this year to earn this hefty piece of metal:

– Rock ‘n’ Roll Pasadena Half Marathon

– Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon

– Rock ‘n’ Roll San Jose Half Marathon (No race recap for this one, because it was lame)

I love the extra bling from this series, but I’ll admit, I don’t find these runs all they are cracked up to be. Three of my worst racing experiences this year have been from Rock ‘n’ Roll races.

And yet, I’m signed up to do Pasadena again, everything going right, in February with hopes of avenging my time.

But I don’t plan on doing San Diego again, instead subbing in another marathon in the spring and then a summer marathon in San Francisco.

Also in my mailbox yesterday: My new Running Times magazine.

It has a lot of good articles in it about training. I’ve been reading it since I opened it up.

I remember always hoping to get something in the mail when I was a child living at home. I usually never would, but when I did it was really exciting. When I got a little older, we’d tease my brothers and give them the letters addressed to “occupant” or “resident.” These days all I get are bills and other no-fun adult documents.

So it’s nice to open the mailbox and have something a little awesome every now and then. And these medals are definitely awesome.

Dec 10

Frustrated and fortunate

I woke up this morning annoyed for many reasons.

After CIM, I decided to take a week off of running. I need a reprieve. I needed some “me” time. I was then reminded why I run a marathon at the beginning of December: So that I feel as if I can eat, drink and be merry the rest of the month.

The problem is that in the past four days I’ve developed the cold from hell. I have a serious case of post-nasal drip that’s making it hard to talk, let alone do anything else.

So I kind of can’t run. I tried. I started and suddenly felt like my head was being held underwater.

I’ll admit, I’m the type who, when my husband is sick, tells him to “Suck it up, Buttercup” and get moving.’ Then I realize how close to death I feel when I’m sick. I need a nap, right now.

So I’m frustrated and more than just a little annoyed.

As I was throwing myself together this morning, staring wantonly at my running shoes, I realized what an idiot I was for being frustrated by something as simple as a cold. Really now. Nice realization braniac. And it took me awhile, really.

But more than that, I have a lot of reasons to “get over” a lot of what’s happening in my life right now. (Some will call this progress.)

Because I am also very fortunate.

Fortunate, for starters, that the nice folks in Clarksburg sent me my medal from the November run. Fortunate that they included a $5 coupon off the race next year. Fortunate because I ran 20 miles that day and, unlike today, didn’t feel like my head was underwater.

I’m also fortunate that, despite feeling like death, I haven’t gained all that much weight lately.

Thanks for that pathetic Weight Watchers meal. I appreciate you keeping my butt flat.

But my biggest realization came when I walked out into my garage and realized that I had a pretty ridiculous decision to make today. I had to decide which car I was going to drive.

In October, my husband and I bought a new car.

We didn’t know what would happen the following week, a la Tara freak out, but we signed the papers and got the keys to put ourselves $22,000 in the hole.

My first thought as I tried to figure out how much sick time I had from work was that we’d have to return the car. Except you can’t really take a car back. My husband, though, has assured me that we can afford it. (Go us for being fiscally responsible!)

The deal was, however, that if we bought a new car, especially a Jeep, I wouldn’t have to get rid of my 10-year old Camaro, which was giving us lots of money worth of trouble. This year alone it cost me $3,000 in fixes. Plus, I need a new set of $800 tires. And new breaks. And the windows don’t roll down. And it needs a tune up.

There’s also some weird electrical thing wrong with it that means the stereo regularly turns itself off. Let’s be real, it might be haunted. A poltergeist, perhaps.

But it still runs. It just requires a little babying. And an AAA membership.

So every couple weeks I pull it out of the garage and take it out.

Why did I keep it, you’re wondering, if it has so many problems. The answer is complicated. But it’s also simple: She’s my baby.

My Camaro was the first car that was actually “mine.” I can account for every mile and milestone. My car went with me on internships to Colorado and Texas. It braved the Oakland streets, with a Club, the two years I was there. It’s very much part of who I am.  Even at 10 years old, it’s still a beauty. The only damage to it, outside of knicks where the rocks hit me on the freeway, is a slightly bent side panel from when I sideswiped a pole at five miles per hour. (Yes. That happened. Shows me for not letting the valet park my car at University of California, Berkeley. And yes, UC Berkeley has valets, it’s still weird to me too.)

Who lets an 18-year-old buy a Camaro? My parents. Because they rock. And I was spending through my part-time job money faster than I could make it. The car meant responsibility.

My mom and I looked at Pontiac Grand-Ams. We checked out Dodge Neons. We also went and looked at Chevrolet Cavaliers in the beginning. Then they decided I could have my “dream car.”

My friends are all buying their dream cars now. I driven mine for 10 years.

So when we needed a new car, I realized I didn’t want a new Camaro as much as I thought. I wanted MY Camaro. Because it has history. Because my parents trusted me with a V6 sports car as a teenager. Because I’ve taken good care of it. I cried when my husband mentioned selling it. I know that sounds horribly cheesy, but I did.

Then we bought a Jeep. It’s definitely not a Camaro, but it’s something my husband and I both agreed on. (Once, when I was in high school, I drove this red 1988 Jeep Cherokee to school. It smelled like gas all the time and shook violently when we tried to take it over 60-miles-per hour on the freeway.)

I’m actually learning to enjoy it.

So fine, I have a cold. I’m frustrated that I can’t run. I’m frustrated by a lot of things right now.

But I’m damn fortunate too.

Dec 6

Battling the elements at California International Marathon: Part II

I had planned to do the rest of this race recap yesterday, but in the past 24 hours have started feeling significantly more under the weather than I have been lately. I’m blaming the deluge from the race.

It started, as colds do, with a little itch. It’s now a sore throat and general soreness.

But I was feeling really good on Saturday. I fell asleep at 9:30 p.m. and, unlike my last marathon, actually slept really well during the night.

I woke up and immediately got to work “lubing” up, for lack of a better term.

Glide under my sports bra. Aquaphor between my toes, along my arms, etc. Anti-chafe anywhere I could put it. My greatest fear was that I would be running and suddenly realize I was chafing somewhere thanks to the rain.

That definitely should have been a fear, except not in the spots I thought.

My husband and I got out of our hotel, near downtown, at about 5:30 a.m. It took us about 20 minutes to get up to Folsom, two miles from the start line.

It was then that the rain was really coming down.

Someone posted the image above to Facebook, showing what we ran through that day. In the morning, when I got to the busing area for the marathon start, it was already pouring. The wind was howling. A local transit line had crews all along the street because a tree fell on the lines. That wouldn’t get fixed for another day or so.

I ran across the street toward a line of school buses. There was no escaping it at this point. It was pouring down rain. It was crazy. The wind was blowing so much that it was hitting me horizontally. I threw on the $1.47 poncho.

It kept me dry for about two minutes. That’s right. My legs were wet by the time my five-minute wait for the bus was over.

Speaking of the bus … it was warm. But our bus driver took us a very different way than last year. We ended up behind the start instead of in front of it. There were a couple questions on the bus whether she knew where she was going, but we ended up right where we needed to be.

I quickly ran over to the long line of portable toilets.

There was hardly any lines, but people were also sticking around in the stalls rather than getting out. Seriously. I waited five minutes and no doors opened in front of me where there were seven or eight toilets.

Come on people. When one, further down, finally opened, I jetted to it. I didn’t care at that moment whether or not someone else was in line. (Sorry folks, put waiting in a portable toilet line in the pouring rain is not cool. Wow. Thanks for being considerate folks.)

I huddled under a gas station cover until about 6:58 a.m. along with everyone else.

At 7 a.m., the race began.

And it was downhill, crazy fun for the first couple miles.

Mile 1: 10:36 — Nice start, my legs didn’t feel cold at all. I was still mostly dry.

Mile 2: 10:34

Mile 3: 10:50

Somewhere around this time, my Garmin turned itself off. I got to the three-mile sign and realized the Garmin hadn’t beeped. Instead it was stuck at 2.67. When did that happen?

And how was I supposed to get it back on track.

Crap. Less than three miles in. I turned it back on and kept going.

Mile 4: 10:52 — Still feeling good.

Mile 5: 11:11 — It’s pouring down rain. But I’m going fairly consistent. I’m actually enjoying the run here. About this time I get to the relay switch, which always brings a good amount of people. (Remember, Garmin was off the entire time, so the real exchange is somewhere at 5.9 or so.)

Mile 6: 6:30 — This isn’t right. I only ran .53 miles here to get my Garmin back on track with the signs.

Mile 7: 11:21

Mile 8: 11:58

Mile 9: 11:54 — I felt as if I was being fairly consistent here with pacing. But it appears to be a little more off than I thought here.

Mile 10: 11:41

Mile 11: 12:12

Mile 12: 11:50

Mile 13: 11:47 — My half time was somewhere close to 2:30. I was excited to be coming in pretty strong in this area. I wasn’t tired, yet, but that would come soon enough.

Mile 14: 12:25 — And here’s where the fatigue actually set in. It came so quickly. The rain was still coming down. I was running through puddles, but also skipping here and there. It was killing my feet. Killing. It hurt so bad.

Mile 15: 13:30 — Slowing down. Lame. But the rain is letting up. Good sign, right?

Mile 16: 12:38 — Gu to pick it back up. Trying to get back into this. Trying.

This is the point where the rain was letting up. I realized then that I was drenched. I mean I was wet in places where I really didn’t want to be. Seriously. My underwear? Yes. My sports bra. Yes.

And I still had the poncho on.

The water had absorbed through my clothes and the poncho was basically useless at this point. So I took it off and threw it to the side near the end of this mile.

This is about right after I ditched the poncho. When I realized my long-sleeve shirt was also wet, I just took it off. It was a warmish 60-degrees, so I felt as if I could finish in my tank top.

I was starting to get ridiculously tired now.

The wind and water had taken nearly everything out of me.

Mile 17: 12:30 — One foot in front of the other.

Mile 18: 13:16

Mile 19: 13:59

Mile 20: 13:02 — The “wall” party wasn’t as exciting as it could be. I’m sure it had everything to do with the weather. There were hardly any people out there. I realized, however, that we didn’t even have the start arches at the beginning because of the rain.

Mile 21: 13:28 — This is when I looked down and realized something was very wrong with my right foot. It was rubbing really bad against the back of the shoe, which is something that it has never done before.

Mile 22: 14:21 — I briefly stopped at an aid station to grab a Band-Aid. Except it wouldn’t stick. My feet were too waterlogged. Both were completely saturated.

Mile 23: 13:59 — I had to keep going. My foot was killing me. My IT band was hurting too now.

Mile 24: 14:37

Mile 25: 12:29 — Just need to keep going. By now, the feet were really killing me. I’m nearing the end here, and I look as tired as I am.

Mile 26: 13:05 — Notice the overcast sky? It didn’t seem that dark, but it was.

Mile .31: 3.27

Chip time: 5:24:52

I added four minutes onto my time from last year. I was actually aiming at coming in around 5:15 this time, but the weather and the wet feet kind of killed that for me.

I crossed the finish line and was handed by epic medal and I wandered, now in pain and wanting to take my shoes off, through the end corral.

It seemed as if there were more people around this year when I finished, probably again because of the rain. I took a heat sheet and a bottle of water, though I’d been hydrating well along the course too, and walked out.

My husband wasn’t yet at the finish line. Apparently he didn’t have as high hopes for me as I did. He figured I’d be done around 5:30.

I did shave more than 10 minutes off time from San Diego, but that’s not even comparable.

I’m upset that I was doing so well and, yet, it all kind of fell apart after the fact. But I was pretty damaged. My feet hurt. My face had wind burn. And heels were torn apart.

Yes. I put up a photo of one of my feet. Both were completely pruned up. Little blisters everywhere. (That blood blister was there beforehand. It wasn’t caused by the race, but the blister on top of it was. I didn’t even know that was possible.)

And when I got home, I realized that only Duct Tape could have saved that heel that Band-Aids wouldn’t stick too.

The back of my running shoes and my socks were bloody. It was a wet, bloody mess.

I’m thankful that I was able to get most of it out. It now just looks like a faint pink stain. Sorry to put up the gross stuff, but I’ve never had that happen in a race before. In San Diego my shoes torn up my feet completely. My Nikes were fine for the first 15 miles or so before this started.

In fact, I don’t think this happened until it started to get dry outside. The water was apparently lubricating my feet, along with the Aquaphor and Glide. Then it ran out.

Would it have been better if I had applied for Glide instead of trying a Band-Aid? I think by the time I realized it was happening the damage was already done.

I should be upset by this race. I should be mad that I didn’t make goal.

But I’m not.

I ran a good race. The things that came up were unexpected. I was exhausted by mile 15. After battling the rain, I just had little to nothing in me. My foot was killing me the last six miles. And I ran, in the rain, for nearly the entire thing.

And I finished.

That’s a lot more pain on my face than I was expecting. I heard some people say at the expo that they weren’t even going to run the race because of the weather. I know more probably woke up and decided against it that morning.

I never doubted I’d be out at the start. I never doubted that at some point I’d get to the end.

I battled through this thing. And I won the battle.

A year ago, I probably wouldn’t have thought about waking up and running a whole 26.2 in the mostly pouring rain. Critics say you shouldn’t run a marathon your first year as a runner. I believe that now, even though I did it last year.

This year, I realized that the marathon isn’t just about running all those miles. It’s about realization. It’s about finding something deep within yourself to pull you through. This year, I had that in me from the start line. Last year, I doubted myself until mile 25. Only then I knew I could do it.

I know I can do it now, even in the pouring rain. I just want to get better, and maybe achieve that 5:15 goal soon. Then, maybe, work on getting my time to under five hours.

But I’m not disappointed in this race. Not at all.

In fact, it was even a little bit fun. Or at least it was before my feet started getting torn up.

Dec 4

Battling the elements at California International Marathon: Part I

I’ll be honest, I’m not even sure where to begin this race report. In many ways, California International Marathon should have been a better run for me. It should have been the race where I recorded a new personal record, after months of solid training runs. It should have been where I finally felt as if I was ready to run 26.2 without problems.

Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas.

ying it wasn’t fun. Not at all.

But the elements took everything I had out of m

For the first 18 miles of the run, it was pouring rain. There were wind gusts up to 40-miles per hour. At one point, I swear the rain was coming at me horizontally. I’m not sae. And it sucked.

Let me rewind, though, to the day before. My husband and I left for Sacramento when the sky was overcast in Tracy. It was actually present until we reach the county line.

Then we saw ominous foreboding of what was to come.

And we knew that was only the beginning of what was coming. Forecasters projected up to an inch of rain during the morning hours on Sunday. It was to start raining the night before.

It was going to the rain. No matter what. No doubt about it.

The forecast couldn’t get much worse than that, right? Then it did. Suddenly the wind speeds were projected to be higher. Add to that a possibility of thunder storms and it’s every runners dream to tackle a marathon in.

Or not.

We made it to Sacramento around 3 p.m. and made our way to the expo. It was already pouring down rain then. Plus, the streets were flooded in most directions. To get to the convention center, we literally had to jump over puddles that were more than six inches deep.

Needless to say, my shoes got wet.

My jeans were also wet up to my knees. The expo was, just like last year, quick to navigate. I picked up my packet and Jennie’s, again without needing an identification, and we wandered around for a couple minutes. I picked up a $5 poster commemorating the 30th anniversary of the event in addition to the race swag.

Let’s talk about the swag for a minute folks.

The marathon runners were given some extra prizes this year in addition to a nice green long-sleeve shirt.

Each runner received a reusable bag, a nice one not one of those cheap ones the Rock ‘n’ Roll series gives out, a pair of gloves and a neck gaiter with custom CIM logos.

The items were pretty nice.

I’m especially excited about the neck gaiter. It can be used as a headband, or a neck wrap or a cap. Lots of uses, definitely an awesome addition to the swag bag.

Now I know it was raining and people tend to be cranky when it rains, but the complaints from the relay teams about not getting the extra swag was ridiculous. A guy in the line behind my husband and I was getting angry with the volunteers. Angry. With volunteers. Really?

“When we registered it didn’t say anything about NOT getting this stuff,” he complained.

The timid teenager who was opening up the swag bags just kept telling him that the items were for “marathoners only.” The guy kept getting more and more upset.

Wow. Calm yourself dude. Seriously. Sure, the website didn’t say anything about relay runners not receiving the goods, but at the same time it’s not the volunteers who made the decision. Don’t yell at them. OK. Rant over.

We didn’t stay at the expo too long if only because I was wet and tired. Instead, we headed to our Sacramento hotel. It wasn’t one of the shuttle hotels, but my husband would be driving me to the start.

After check in, we decided to head downtown, as we kept checking the weather reports, for dinner. The problem is we didn’t have reservations so our first attempt at a pasta dinner was thwarted.

We ended up getting a nice pasta, chicken mix at the 4th Street Grille, where other marathoners were also eating. Our waiter was awesome, despite teasing about the weather for the next day. I know, I told him. It will be bad.

Just then, it really started raining.

The storm system had come in. It was bad. Awful. Buckets upon buckets of rain.

Not really buckets, but it was pretty bad.

We watched the rain out the window as the television showed a storm tracking into the area that would likely deliver the brunt of the storm at the beginning of the race. So. I’ve never run a race in the rain before. Never. There have been times where the rain threatened a race, but in the end it only rained for a couple minutes or not at all.

I was going into this blind. With a rain poncho. And lots of Body Glide.

I kept telling myself I would be fine, just fine. The poncho would keep me dry. Right? The Glide would make sure I didn’t get blisters anywhere. Yes? I had no idea what I was in for the next day. Not at all.

See all my anti-chafe stuff? Little did I know it wouldn’t be enough when my feet were soaking in my shoes for more than three hours. It was going to be a wet and wild run, that’s for sure.

Dec 3

Not a best, but a good time nonetheless at CIM

I finished my second California International Marathon yesterday. It was a blast through the first part, with crazy weather and 40 mile-per-hour wind gusts for the first 13.1.

I was doing really well. But battling the elements took more out of me than I thought it would. I finished in 5:24:53. Four minutes more than my time last year, but 10 better than my San Diego run in June.

It was a wild, crazy run. I’m disappointed that I didn’t make my goal of finishing in 5:15. But I sloshed through very wet streets in pouring rain.

I’m planning a full race report, but with a Garmin malfunction (it stopped for more than a half time only 20 minutes in!), a face reddened by windburn and my quads burning from my great first half, I’m still recovering.

It’s too bad I don’t have any photos of that morning. I was trying to stay dry as long as possible (that didn’t happen). But it will be a fun race report.