… is that my left IT band/thigh/butt is not as cranky as it has been.
I dare say that I think running has actually done it some good. I’m walking up the stairs a little better now too. I’ve run two six-milers in two days. So far, so good. No residual effects. No lingering pain.
Maybe the pain was a knot? Or maybe the two weeks of rest, minus a marathon in between, was just what I needed?
Either way, it’s good to be back to running pain free. Now I just need to workout a training plan for the Half Moon Bay International Marathon. It’s going to come quicker than I realize.
A year ago, I swore off the Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon. I ran my second 26.2 on a warm, balmy day in America’s Finest City with bad shoes and an attitude in need of much adjustment.
I’m admitting it: The trip, despite the destination, didn’t include any of my finest moments. At the end, I collapse to the ground, threw off my running shoes and cried. It wasn’t even a pretty cry. It was an ugly cry, with an ugly cry face. I hated every minute of it. On the way home, I told my running buddy Sam, who did the half marathon, that I would never do it again.
NEVER. AGAIN. BITE ME SAN DIEGO. I HATE YOUR PALM TREES. AND SCENIC VIEWS.
It’s amazing what changes in a year. I ended 2012 and began 2013 going through the worst moments of my life. I was convinced 2013 would be the worst full year of my life.
And you know what?
It actually hasn’t been too bad. That’s one of the reasons Sam convinced me, during our February trip to Southern California for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Pasadena Half Marathon, to sign up for San Diego. Not the marathon, though. At that point, I was already registered for the San Francisco Marathon (which I’m running on Sunday and crossing my fingers I’ll be able to finish with the IT band issues that have flared up lately), so there was no way I’d run two marathons in a three week period.
I did run two half marathons in a two-week period, which makes me think I qualify for the Half Fanatics, which I’d gladly join if I didn’t have such an aversion to groups.
Still, so much has changed. Last year, I realized something was very wrong with me. Within a month, I was on anti-depression and anxiety medication, trying to keep my more-fragile-than-I-ever-imagined self together. That didn’t end well.
In the months leading into San Diego, I became a PR machine. I ran a half marathon five-weeks post surgery in February and knocked twenty minutes off my time from last year. In March, I ran my first ever 2:20 half marathon. In May, I PRed again at Portland with a 2:19.
In San Diego, the place where I had the worst marathon experience of my life (we’ll see about this weekend and this dumb IT band), I found something in myself to push me into a runner a year ago I didn’t think existed in me. I ran a 2:16:41 half marathon. And I know exactly how I did it, which made it all that much better.
Mile 1: 10:08 — We get started at 7:08 a.m. I think I finally found my footing in the 2:20 corral. That’s my pace at the start and, usually consistently. I feel good. But right before the mile mark, I also realize I’m really, really warm.
Mile 2: 10:37 — That feeling of “warm” kind of stayed with me. I figured this wouldn’t be the best day to race. Plus, this Rock ‘n’ Roll race welcomes a ton of people … so at the first aid station, I felt like I was pushing my way through people to get to the water.
Mile 3: 10:07 — We start making our way into the University Heights neighborhood. The support here was AMAZING. These people were yelling and cheering for all the runners. A real boost.
Mile 4: 10:53 — Water stop to slow me down again. Vanilla Bean Gu.
Mile 5: 10:06 — I’m starting to feel the Gu as we get to the “top” of the half marathon route.
Mile 6: 9:53 — Now the Gu is really kicking in. And I’m getting excited as we move past the relay exchange point. There’s no “mini marathon” option in this race, but the half course is split in two so that people who aren’t quite ready to go the full 13.1 can test out their skills on six-mile and 7.1 mile routes.
Mile 7: 10:43 — A much-needed downhill. But not a complete downhill mile. Despite what this race boasted, it was not “flat and fast.” Nope. Not even close.
Mile 8: 10:05 — Some up and down here. I grab another Gu. I was running so fast (for me), that when I grabbed my Gu it literally felt like it was taking forever. I felt like I was clumsy and couldn’t really control my iFitness band really well.
Mile 9: 11:00 — Rolling hills. NOT A FLAT COURSE.
Mile 10: 10:45 —The combination of an aid station AND the hill right at the beginning of this mile dropped me here. Plus, I was getting tired.
Mile 11: 11:17 — I nearly lost it this mile. This is when we started heading into Balboa Park. The course narrowed here, with half marathoners on one side and marathoners on another. The problem with that is this the half marathoners, which there are more of, were right on top of each other. I took an elbow to the chest at the aid station here. Then I walked for a bit to recover from that. Then, I swear, another hill popped up.
Mile 12: 10:01 — Gu. I’m finishing this thing. Downhills in sight. Let’s go. Right at the mile 12 beep on the Garmin, the 2:15 pacer passed me. First thought: I RAN 12 MILES WITHOUT BEING PASSED BY THE 2:15 PACER! Second thought: CHASE. HIM. NOW.
Mile 13: 9:42 — So I literally chased the 2:15 pacer. I lost site of him as we got back into downtown, but I already knew I was on a good pace. There was no way I couldn’t PR now. I HAD THIS.
Mile .18: 1:28 (8:15 average) — Right downhill into the finish chute.
Official time: 2:16:41
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
AND BLING!!!!
This time though, I wasn’t stunned. I didn’t cry. I held it together pretty well. I found a curb. I sat and waited for Sam, who was leading her sister into a sub-three finish. I was really proud of Sam. She helped her sister take an hour off her previous half marathon time. And Sam ran a pretty great race herself for “just getting back into it.”
I hate to say “I wasn’t surprised.” But this time, I figured out WHY I ran well, which had been alluding me in previous races.
1) I took care of the jitters, for the most part, before hand.
That includes the required visit to the portable toilets. But it also includes having a more “set” schedule and plan for race morning. I now do a Gu about 45 minutes before the start. I also eat a Luna Bar for breakfast. Nothing too fancy or extreme for my stomach. I also plan and pack everything the night before.
2. I found my comfort zone early, then backed off that pace a little.
It’s hard not to speed up. I’m really bad at that. But, for the most part, I’ve gotten that under control. I find a pace I can reasonably sustain for 10 miles, then I ease up. That way, I get to mile 12 still feeling good. I’ve finished my last three half marathons feeling amazing. That’s a huge change from feeling like I was dying before in nearly all of them.
3. I paid less attention to my Garmin.
Really now. I know that’s hard to believe. But I am spending less time staring at it between miles and more time just running. I’m doing more “in the moment” running.
4. I’m having fun.
I used to feel like these races were “make or break.” It had everything to do with the fact I was carrying the stress of my bad days, and bad life there for awhile, with me into them. I ran so well in 2011. I improved my times. I ran my first marathon. But 2012 turned into a bad year for my racing, until I took a vacation from my full-time work in August 2012. That’s the week I ran my best half marathon, a 2:22.
That should have told me something. (Everyone, including my grandmother, has since told me that.) Proof of that fun? I’m able to joke around now before races (see above? It is unpleasant to be towed…ha!). I’m just much looser than before.
5. I’m fueling well.
The Gu pattern is becoming just that, a pattern. I’ve started to “figure out” this half marathon thing. I’m carrying just enough to make it in to the finish, taking it when I need it and not dwelling on it too much.
6. I’m training better.
I’m sure that’s telling in itself. I do incline treadmill training now. I’m also running outside more when my IT band is allowing it. Unfortunately lately my IT band has been really angry. I do one long run a week, two mid-length runs (7-8) and two tempo runs (4-6). I feel better about my training. And it’s “just enough” to push me where I need to be.
That said, I don’t necessarily have more time. I don’t. Right now I’m back to averaging 10-hour days while my boss is on vacation. I’m just glad to have the “itch” to run back. My self-imposed “no run” rule this week to help my leg get better is annoying me more than this sort of thing ever did before.
7. I know now what I didn’t know then.
I didn’t realize how much “healing” I had to do after January, both mentally (from all depression and anxiety) and physically (from emergency gallbladder surgery), until I really got away from what I felt was making me “sick.” Part of me thought everything would get better overnight. In many ways, it did. In others, it didn’t. I had to heal. I had to grow. And much like I literally regained my “stride” in running last year, the running this year has played a huge part in that.
I’m better because I run.
Half marathoners are just better now. Running is just better now. I’m better now. And believe me when I say I know I have further to go down that road to feel “whole” again. A 2:16 half marathon though moves me closer to that goal.
Last year, I walked away from San Diego feeling the lowest I had ever felt. I was miserable. I hated my life. I wasted time on people I thought were my friends. I couldn’t imagine that it could get much worse. Then it did.
This year, I came to San Diego with a completely renewed purpose. I came into it a more whole person. I came into it happier. And also with better shoes. But, most importantly, I came into this race knowing that I had that faster race in me. That made the biggest difference. Everything else was just complementary.
Two races. One year apart. A little rock ‘n’ roll. A world of difference.
It was at mile two in this weekend’s Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Half Marathon that I became overwhelmed by a sense that it was going to be a hot one. Sure, the Mermaid Series Sirena 18 included the sun beating down on me, but the San Diego mix of heat and humidity was ridiculous. And I couldn’t even see the sun.
Now I know, we’ve reach THAT time of the year.
It’s hot.
It’s not quite summer yet, but the heat is already hitting the valley where I live. I wake up and it’s nearly 70-degrees outside. It makes me regret never really getting into morning running. It’s so much cooler in the morning than it is when I want to run at 7 p.m. In the evening, the concrete is still hot. I can feel it moving through the rubber soles on my shoes, I swear.
But runners are creatures of habit. We’re not quick to dismiss our passions just because it’s getting a little warm.
Last month, I asked the ladies at See Jane Run in Oakland for tips and tricks to help stay cool while the weather heats up. The staff offered some great suggestions to help acclimate to the weather. The question led to another post specifically on hydration, but the ladies also had other tips to share.
This post comes just in time for this weekend’s See Jane Run 5K and Half Marathon in Alameda, the first of four running events hosted by the store, with locations in Boise, Seattle and Whicita, Kansas. The weather forecast is calling for a temperature of 74 with western winds at 14 miles-per hour. No cloud cover.
Needless to say, it’s going to feel a little warm out there.
GET THE PROPER GEAR
Depending on the time of year purchased, running clothes can vary greatly in the make and feel of fabric. Didn’t know that? Neither did I until I spoke with Ginny at See Jane Run’s Oakland store.
She showed me a noticeable difference in clothes for different climates. That T-shirt you bought during the fall? It may not be the best for running as it warms up. Those tights you love? They may be keeping in too much body heat.
Next time you visit your local running store, feel the fabric. Yes, that sounds a little bizarre, but when you do you’ll notice something about clothes designed for warm-weather running: They are lighter.
That goes for shorts, capris or shirts, including tank tops.
I have a Nike tank top that I love wearing. It’s a darker blue color one and I always considered it lightweight. Then I came across a Nike Sculpt Tank at See Jane Run. The difference between the two tanks is night and day. My new pink one doesn’t have as much mass. I don’t feel like my body is holding in as much heat when I’m wearing it.
This is the time of the year when you’ll find running stores stocking up on summer-related clothes in seasonal colors (hello neon). It’s not just because these stores are trying to sell you clothes you don’t need. There is an actual difference in the products.
Brooks clothing actually includes tags that tell customers what climate their possible purchase is best-used for. It’s a nice touch.
You’ll also likely notice more light colors when you see fellow runners. My favorite go-to tanks right now are soft pinks, yellows and oranges. I’m rarely putting on my darker-colored garb. Why? Darker colors absorb more light.
There’s a fashionable element to these potential new purchases, but it’s also about function.
GET FRIENDLY WITH THE GLIDE
“You are going to chafe more,” said Ginny. Because, of course, you’re likely going to sweat more. This includes your feet. They sweat too. So get some Glide, or the equivalent.
Lately, I’ve been using Skin Glide between my toes to make sure they are lubricated enough. Blisters are bad enough as it is. Blisters during the summer months just are downright undesirable.
RUN AT A COOLER TIME OF DAY
I know, if you’re like me, you’d rather not change the time of day you run. This was especially the case when I was working out of town and commuting home every day. I had a small window to fit a run in. I either did the run or risked having to head out during a rather runner unfriendly time of night (after 9 p.m., sometimes closer to 10 p.m.).
So, many times, I gave in and moved my run to the morning.
See Jane Run’s Ginny said she, too, would often head out for a run and realize it was a little too warm. Adjust. Be OK with the adjustment.
I’m a stalwart for my night runs, but sometimes it pays to run in the early morning hours (some of my summer training runs were as early as 5 a.m.) just to get the run in during a cooler time of the day.
FIND AN ALTERNATE PATH (OR THE TREADMILL)
Trees are your friends. Embrace the foliage! OK, that’s cheesy. But it’s something to take into consideration. If you’re standard running route takes you through new subdivisions with five-year old trees, you probably aren’t getting enough coverage to keep you cool.
That’s what happened to me last summer when, at the peak of a training period, I realized I was too hot and too tired only two miles in. I found a new route, with trees most of the way, in a more established neighborhood.
There’s also the treadmill (gasp!). I’ve written about my love for my personal hamster wheel before, but during the summer that love is sometimes a fiery passion. I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve started runs outside, dissolved into a puddle of sweat and relented back to the treadmill with two fans blowing on me to finish.
We have days where I live where the temperature is 105 or so. As much as I try to watch the weather advisories beforehand to see if my training runs are falling on a particularly warm day, sometimes I have a run scheduled on one of those scorchers.
WEAR SUNSCREEN
I’m notorious for my sunburns. I don’t tan. I just burn. I’ve always had pale skin, so when I go into the sun at all, I’m all about the sunscreen. I pack two bottles, at least, whenever I go somewhere to run. This past weekend in San Diego, I caked Coppertone SPF 30 on my skin and STILL ended up with bright pink lines around where my Garmin sits on my left wrist.
Both my running buddies don’t have this problem. They could run all day and be perfectly bronzed by the evening. Last year during my six-hour endurance run, I had to apply sunscreen every hour or so … and I still ended up with a sunburn.
For quick application, I usually invest in a multi-pack of spray-on sunscreen at the beginning of the season. I think it’s a good idea, even if you aren’t prone to burning.
HYDRATE
I devoted an entire blog post to this topic, but I’ll briefly touch on it again because it’s THAT important. First off, it’s always a good idea to drink more water as it gets warmer. I fell victim to some pretty significant dehydration on Monday when, at an amusement park, my husband and I shared one bottle of water.
By the time we left, after standing in long lines for extended periods of time, I was so thirsty. Remember, being thirsty is your body telling you it’s already dehydrated. The night before a race or a long run, I’m especially increasing my intake so I don’t feel parched before I even get to the start line.
Carry water with you. Make sure your route includes fountains if you are prone to running out. Bring a couple dollars to purchase a bottle of water if you have to. Just keep the water coming in.
DON’T PUSH IT
“If I don’t run those eight miles today, I’ll be so behind in training,” I once told my husband when it was 100 degrees outside and you could see mirages coming off of the pavement.
I think I ran a mile then decided it wasn’t happening. It was just way too uncomfortable.
“Even if it isn’t the heat, it’s the sun,” said Ginny.
It was be a cooler 75-degree day and the sun right above you can completely devastate a run. Know when to quit. Don’t be afraid to throw in the towel after wiping off all your sweat. It won’t ruin your training. In fact, waiting for a cooler day might make your training run even better.
Just don’t push it. Your body will thank you later.
Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. The views on this blog are merely suggestions. As always, consult a doctor before you start any new workout routine.
Today is the official start of the Runner’s World Summer Run Streak. The magazine, and bloggers across the country, are challenging everyone to run at least one mile every day for the next 39 days. I have to admit, I’m always a little tempted by this sort of challenge.
But I never partake. I’m too commitment prone to do so.
Scratching your head? I’ll explain.
I have a deep-seeded loyalty in me that means I often give people, places, things, jobs even, too much of myself before I decided enough is enough. I never thought I could be “loyal to a fault.” This year, I learned that could be a “thing.” I’m way too loyal in some situations. My running is one of those things.
STICKING TO THE PLAN
My runs are set up specifically through the week to help relieve stress and anxiety while still keeping me active and healthy. I have a pretty regular, albeit boring, plan.
Sunday: Long run
Monday: Tempo run for an hour (usually 5 to 6 miles)
Tuesday: A very steady six miler (at race pace if I’m training for a race)
Wednesday: Cross training (lately Jillian Michaels workout video)
Thursday: Six to eight miles
Friday: Rest (OK, this used to be my core day. Since my January surgery, I’ve been having a hard time making that happen again.)
Saturday: Tempo run anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half
I’ll be first to admit I don’t run every single day I plan to. My Sunday’s are pretty consistent with the long runs. Mondays are never a problem.
But I deviate from the path sometimes.
When I do run, I HAVE to run the specific run I’m supposed to run on the specific day. So much so that my running buddies know Tuesday and Thursday are “running” days for me. Ask me to do something different (another workout video included) on those days and the answer is usually no.
I’m committed to the plan. I’m also committed to longer runs.
I can’t run just a mile. A mile in, my endorphins are finally settling and I’m starting to calm down as a runner. Anxiety can make or break that first mile for me. It’s incredibly hard for me to get out the door or hop on the treadmill without my mind going to worst-case scenario. (Again, anxiety is fun folks. SO FUN.)
THE REST DAY PHENOMENON
I need my rest days.
In being enticed by these “streaks” I stumbled across many runners who had “been there, done that” and came out OK. My favorite post is from No Meat Athlete where he actually lists all he learned from a 50-day run streak. Even if his post doesn’t sell me on running for 50 days straight, I love it. I love that he actually analyzes all the lessons learned in those days.
At some point I’m going to do a blog post on the “what works for me, doesn’t work for you” concept.
Today, I’m declaring rest days essential for ME. Maybe not for other runners, but definitely for me.
The gallbladder removal at the top of 2013 killed my mileage for January. It also made me re-evaluate myself as a runner. I ran more than 1,200 miles in 2012. It was an epic, record year.
I’m not on track to do that this year. I’m not forcing myself to run when I don’t feel my legs can handle it. I’m giving myself more rest days.
It also means I get to spend more time doing the important things in life, like hanging out with my dogs. Beau appreciates it.
I’m pulling back. And I’m running better for it. To me that’s huge. After three years of trial and error, I’m finally able to understand why this works for me. My body is just one of those bodies that needs extra rest to recover from the pounding and fatigue from running too many miles.
NO LACK OF MOTIVATION
This is the biggest reason I haven’t jumped into running a streak. It’s touted as a way to get runners past the doldrums of summer when you’d rather eat large quantities of food at outdoor barbecues than lace up the shoes.
I don’t need that motivation. At all. I’ve never once cancelled a run because my husband and I want to go to a barbecue or hang out with friends. Instead, I restructure my schedule. I become a morning runner. It’s a lot harder than it sounds.
Yesterday was a case in point.
We spent more than seven hours hanging out with our good friends at their house.
So I ran in the morning. Eight miles. I adjust so I don’t have to choose.
I have multiple races I’m signed up for that mean not training is not an option. Despite the heat, summer actually turns into my best running season. I can rack up miles upon miles just because my obligations are so much less during the summer months (no school).
I don’t need the extra push.
IS IT EVEN GOOD FOR YOU?
That’s a question I can’t answer.
I can’t run every day for a month, let alone 39 or 50 days. It’s true I haven’t tried it, but I think I would overdose on running just enough to not make it fun anymore for me. Again, this is my personal preference.
I have friends who’ve done these “streaks.” When I mentioned I was toying with the idea of doing a run streak a couple years ago, a friend told me I would kill my joints and probably burn out before I ended the streak. I love that streak running has it’s own organization, the United States Running Streak Association, that has an article about “The Dangers of Streak Running.” Except once you read it, it doesn’t sound so dangerous if you just practice common sense.
But I’ve also seen the question come up on multiple forums recently with links back to the Runner’s World streak. The popular answer is that it’s up to you. You decide if it can work for you. You decide if you want to or need to streak.
Do you ever have one of those days where you truly love running? I mean not just the running part, but also the sense of accomplishment and camaraderie from other runners?
Running is hard. Anyone who tells you differently is either freakishly athletic or lying. Your feet pound the pavement constantly. Your whole body shakes. You can easily feel worn down at the end. In some cases, you feel broken and beaten.
Confession: I used to feel the later of those things and more after a run.
Recent realization: I’m lucky to be able to finish a half marathon, marathon or any other event AT ALL. Not everyone can do it. Not everyone wants to. But being a runner, or any distance, means you’ve committed to the challenge. Finishing that distance means you did it. All the runners I’ve ever meant say that once they finished that “unreachable distance” they want to keep pushing. They want to keep going. We’re damn lucky we can.
That brings me to the Mermaid Series Sirena 18. By far, this is one of the smallest races I’ve done in the three years I’ve been running. And I love it.
It is one of three races I’ve run that focuses on female runners (See Jane Run and the Nike Women’s Marathon are the other two). The goal is to empower women of all sizes and backgrounds to just run. The “just run” part is hard enough. Getting out there is even tougher. Running in front of people is unfathomable for some people.
With all that said, this year’s Sirena 18 went well at the beginning, but kind of fell apart at the end for me. And you know what? That’s OK.
I was hot. The sun was beating down on me. I ran out of Gu at mile 15 (seriously!). I felt like I slowed to a crawl after blazing through the first 11 miles without any issues. And it’s all OK.
Because I went out and ran.
The day started out in kind of a daze. My 4:30 a.m. alarm got me up quickly. I was out the door by 5:20 a.m. for a round of pick ups of fellow runners in Mountain House. My husband decided last weekend that he wanted to head up to Colusa and see a friend this weekend. That left me by myself for this run, which was OK when my running buddy Sam offered to come with and bring her daughter to run the Mini Mermaid run.
We stopped by and picked up two more runners to head to Quarry Lakes Regional Recreation Area in Fremont.
We were there within an hour, maybe even 45 minutes. My race was the earliest one, starting at 7:30 a.m.
In retrospect, I probably spent too much time in the car hanging out and not enough time stretching and preparing. It was kind of cold outside. I wasn’t exactly in “race mode.” That would come back to haunt me later.
I went and grabbed my race bib in the Sirena 18’s one line. I was also given a pretty nice, though long, shirt.
At 7:25 a.m., I lined up and met up with my friend Mimi, who was running her first Sirena 18. Mimi and I go way back to my beginning newspaper reporting days. She’s now a director for an influential organization in my hometown. I first met and interviewed her when she was in high school. I’m in awe of all she’s done since then.
I was pretty jazzed to see her.
The race started right on time with a small field, though more people than last year. It started all good.
Mile 1: 10:06 — Good pacing, feeling good. The start is a smooth, conversational pace.
Mile 2: 10:15 — Still in the park, moving along nicely. The sky is overcast. I’m worried a little because my skin burns more when it’s overcast. I wonder if I’ve put enough sunscreen on.
Mile 3: 10:19 — My first Gu for the day. My legs were starting to warm up. We hit the first out and back. I slow for the Gu and take down a little water with it.
Mile 4: 10:19 — Feeling really good here.
Mile 5: 10:07 — The Gu starts to kick in. I feel amazing as we hit the bridge to take us to the longer of the two out-and-back routes.
Mile 6: 10:41 — My legs are feeling good, but I’m also getting tired.
Mile 7: 10:56 — Why am I so tired? At this point, we’re past the beginning of the park. Nowhere to go but out and back now. It’s a long way until the turnaround.
Mile 8: 10:37 — Another Gu.
Mile 9: 11:41 — Slowing through a water stop. It’s starting to get warm and it’s not even that late.
Mile 10: 10:48 — Gu is kicking in now. Feeling good. The turnaround for the longer out-and-back is within this mile. Only eight miles? I have this! (BTW, I may have been imagining it, but I thought someone said “and she runs!” right here. If that was someone out there who reads my blog, speak up!)
Mile 11: 12:13 — Or do I? I get through the first 11 miles in under two hours. It’s good, but I’m starting to really feel the heat here. In fact, it literally feels like someone just flipped a switch. Why? The first part of this section, we run facing away from the sun. On the way back, we run facing the sun. Suddenly it feels so much hotter. And I’m miserable.
Mile 12: 11:58 — I hate you sun. I hate you so much.
Mile 13: 12:55 — SUN. FIERY SUN. BLAH.
Mile 14: 12:59 — I’m hot. I’m miserable. I realize that I’m falling way behind here. I was doing so well. Now it’s falling apart. I take another Gu in between miles 13 and 14.
Mile 15: 12:03 — The Gu kicked in. I feel better, but I’m still hot. And then I realize my toe hurts. My left IT band is also screaming at me. That’s what happens when you don’t stretch. I was really feeling it then.
Mile 16: 12:48 — Between the heat, my IT band and my toe, I was dying. But the bridge back into the park was coming up again. I was elated to see it. I just wanted to finish. I tried to go for another Gu only to realize I was all out. All out. Gone. No more Gu. Well, crap. One of my major mistakes last year was not taking the Gu at mile 16.
Mile 17: 12:08 — Picking it up back into the park. I grabbed a couple glasses of very watered-down Gatorade. It hardly tasted like Gatorade. If outside the park felt steamy, inside the park was like a furnace. Yikes. Everyone around me was commenting on how horrible it felt. We hit an area near the lake and it smelled like fish. I was ready for it to be over.
Mile 17.82: 10:04 — I was a little disappointed as I came into the finish, until I saw Sam’s daughter with a sign she made specifically for me. She was running into the finish area with me, yelling “Go Tara!” OK, you can’t be mad when you see that. Not at all.
I was handed the charm the Mermaid Series awards participants with. I crossed the finish, grabbed a bottle of water and headed over to Sam. We sat for awhile talking before moving into a more shaded area. I needed to get out of the sun. I was so afraid of baking my skin and turning into a lobster.
Less than five minutes after I finished, I got a text message from the timing company with my official time: 3:22:54.
Even though the last seven miles were not my best, I beat last year’s time by nearly 10 minutes. That’s a good run. Again, I’m damn lucky to be able to run. I’m going to celebrate it.
I’m also going to celebrate Mimi a little too. I saw Mimi a couple times along the course. Each time, she looked cool, collected and serious. Mimi was determined.
I felt honored to cheer Mimi in when she came into the finish. I wish I still had my shoes on because I would have kept running along the chute next to her. I underestimated the thickets in the grass. But I took a cue from my friend’s daughter and started yelling her name the moment I saw her.
That’s Mimi. Mimi rocked it. I swear I’ve never seen a runner look so serene when she finished. She HAD this run. She OWNED this run. I have no doubt that when she runs a marathon, she’ll conquer it with as much determination as I saw her with out there during the Sirena 18.
One of the amazing things about the running community is that we all support each other. This is even more true at races put on with the intention of supporting female athletes. It’s women encouraging other women. Each woman’s name was said at the finish line. It’s a cheesy cliche, but it’s about “girl power.”
I was kind of on overload with all that support. Between a solid finish time (even though the last seven miles were a struggle), hanging out with my friend and her daughter (and heading out to Fremont with a car full of runners) and being able to cheer a friend on as she came into the finish, I felt proud to be a member of the running community.
I’m not sure even Mimi realizes how seeing her on the course pumped my spirits up, especially when I was struggling to keep lifting my feet. Just seeing someone you know and having them say “doing good” or “you got this” is an affirmation. It was a truly inspiring day for all of the reasons listed.
I’ll say it again: Runners choose this. We choose to endure the long runs, the long hours of workouts and the body pains. We push ourselves to go faster and longer. It makes us a little crazy, I’ll admit. But it also means we are incredibly fortunate.
I haven’t really talked about my broken arm since the doctor gave me an “all clear” weeks ago. The mobility is far better than it was. It feels, mostly, normal. In fact, it really doesn’t bother me most the time.
Then I get a not-so-subtle reminder that it’s not quite at full operating capacity.
It usually comes when I’m in the middle of a cross-training activity. It starts as a dull pain at the site of the fracture. It’s not really noticeable at first. Then there’s a feeling of faint pressure. It’s followed by an all-at-once feeling that something is tearing the bone apart from the inside.
Needless to say, I’m not healed completely.
I can’t even do a 30-minute Jillian Michaels workout video with my friend Sam without saying “nope, can’t do this one” when we get to a move that would involve my left elbow.
I knew this would be the case.
The doctor didn’t promise me a miracle healing or even guarantee that I’d be back to my normal, push-up able self within a month. He said it would take time. He also advised me not to push as much pressure on it as I would my right arm.
So when Michaels instructs Sam and I go into a cobra position (or whatever it is, I don’t know, that 30-minutes kicks my butt), I shouldn’t be getting as much into it as I am. But I tend to push things like this a little far.
I think my arm is better. The truth is, it’s not.
In fact, the doctor told me to watch out when I run even more so because the likelihood is that if I fall on that same spot again, which I’d likely do because my luck is that great, I could completely fracture my radial head all over again.
Doesn’t it look all healed up and unsuspecting? The pressure in that stupid little bone is ridiculously painful. I’ve never experienced “pressure” pain before. When it gets really bad, I turned to my “breakthrough-only” Ibuprofen. That’s pretty bad.
Even better, apparently I haven’t learned my lesson from all of the doctor visits, the week of a sling and the inability to move my arm completely for more than a month.
As Jennie and I were finishing up our six-mile run today, we were back into the neighborhood area where we run in front of houses. About four miles of our run twist down tree-lined paths by my house. The neighborhoods are basically at the beginning and end of the run as we make our way back to my house.
“I try to avoid these since you fell,” she said to me, gesturing down at a lip of a driveway.
Of course, I turned around. And looked down. As I was running.
Basically, I did all of the things I did when I fell in March. I didn’t fall tonight. But it made me realize a couple things: 1) I didn’t even realize that I had fallen over a lip of a driveway, but now that I think about it, yeah, that’s what happen. 2) I really should start paying more attention to the sidewalk while I’m running.
I’m going to start this blog post with the truest statement I can: My husband is a saint.
I know a lot of women gush about how amazing and supportive their husbands are, but I know everyday how lucky I am. When I met Thomas 11+ years ago I didn’t know that we’d be sharing our lives together this far down the line. I never envisioned us being at each other’s college graduations. Or getting married. Or buying our first house. Or having three dogs.
I didn’t know. I was only 17, though, not even a high school graduate. He was 20 and still trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He was studying to be a photographer. I think both of us are glad he eventually chose engineering. (Because really, two unemployed journalists in a house? Bad news.)
We don’t have an easy relationship. But relationships are hard. They take work. Both of us aren’t afraid of working hard.
I’m hotheaded even on my best days. I have a sharp tongue that gives me an upper-hand in verbal confrontations, but often leaves my opponent feeling lousy. I’m stubborn as all hell. My voice, even when I’m not mad, has a way of moving past “indoor conversation” volume. And I can hold a grudge forever without it bothering me too much.
I’m the one who calls our insurance company when they over bill. I’m the one who negotiated with the car dealer last fall when we purchased our Jeep. I’m assertive, much to the dismay of some.
So when I emotionally “broke” last fall, my husband was left picking up the pieces for a woman he’d never seen fall apart so badly in more than a decade together. It scared him. Probably more than anything else in his life or our relationship had ever scared him. He lost the essence of who I was. He lost me.
Now, he’s not a timid type or anything to that nature. He’s a man who handles large-scale projects for a living. He’s a man who really “sees the forest through the trees” in every aspect of what he does. He’s ridiculously intelligent, which he would say about me in return, but in a much different way. I’m a creative type, I can visualize projects, pages, design and code, putting it all together in my head. He’s analytical. He sees numbers and measurements. He’s a “measure four times, then cut” kind of guy.
This may, we’ll be married for five years.
What it means to us? We’ve made it this far in a loving, amazing relationship. We’re doing a good job! Good on us for keeping it together!
What it means to outsiders? We should have had children four years ago.
I’m not even kidding.
I’ve been asked, in recent years, whether there was “something wrong” with me. I’ve been confronted, point blank, by someone inquiring if I was barren.
“All that running you do can’t be good for getting pregnant,” someone once told me.
Even better was when someone told me they could recommend a good specialist in “that area” of concern.
When we got a new dog this year, I nearly died when I got this text message: “So you’re going to keep getting dogs instead of having children?”
My reply to all these things isn’t exactly holding my mouth:
Instead, I’ve become accustom to using a phrase I heard from a once-friend: “Ladies and gentleman, please get out of my uterus!”
My grandmother, who I love dearly, even pulled a guilt trip on me last summer when I turned 28. She told me that women my age have two or three children by now. “I’d like to see your children before I die,” she implored. Thanks grandma. THAT’S exactly what I needed.
When I called her up saying I had “good news” recently, she responded: “You’re finally pregnant!”
No grandma. No. I had signed up for another marathon. She wasn’t impressed.
My husband once told me he wanted children by the time he turned 30. He was also 20. A lot changes in ten years.
He’ll be 32 this year. In a month, I’ll be 29.
And you know what? We’re talking about it now. In detail. We bought a four-bedroom, three-bath house in 2010 with the intention of “growing” into it. But not with 10 dogs. With children. (Want people to REALLY start nagging you again about children? Buy a house that’s too big for you.)
But the conversation started last year, when I still had a full-time job that kept me away from home 60+ hours a week. Then the part-time job that sometimes ate up 30 hours a week. I had tests done last year before my gynecologist skipped town (seriously, she was just gone one week). Soon, everything else got in the way.
This month, we started going through the motions again. That means no more birth control. Period tracking through an iPhone app (ahhh, modern technology and sorry for the TMI, not really sorry though). It also means vitamins and supplements.
We’re not jumping in full boar quite yet.
With my history of diabetes I’m actually not really “allowed” to try until at least three months worth of blood sugar tests. And I’m still hanging onto some weight it’s recommended I drop. I know not everyone gets pregnant immediately. But my new gynecologist has recommended a timeline that includes waiting to really “start trying” in the fall. As in September or October. Not tomorrow. Or Sunday. Or our fifth wedding anniversary, etc.
(Side note: I’m a bridesmaid in a wedding this December and I love the bride so much that I don’t want to be the ridiculously pregnant bridesmaid, so this timeline works out just fine. I go back for blood sugar tests after a couple months of diet watching through the summer.)
We’re also watching my recent history with anxiety and depression carefully.
Which is where the part about my husband being a saint comes back into play.
When everything that happened to me at my previous job reached crescendo and less than 24 hours later I was in a hospital recovery room after having my gallbladder removed, my husband noted the lack of people who even bothered to come see me. People he thought were my friends didn’t even send text messages. People who’d I worked with for years. (To be fair, I would have been more upset if I wasn’t so incredibly drugged up.)
One person came to see me. One person who truly loved me. She’s one of my best friends.
Thomas would have done anything to make me better. Anything.
So he did.
“You aren’t going back there,” he said to me while I was eating strawberry Jello with tears in my eyes. “If they don’t care enough about you to show up or even wish you well, you aren’t going back.”
He made the decision for me. For my health. For my sanity.
There was no discussion about money or responsibility or bills. He assured me it would be fine. He was heartbroken when I tried to get my surgeon to clear me as soon as possible so I could send a letter of resignation (the surgeon wouldn’t, he made me wait two weeks before he’d clear me if only because he thought the surgery and painkillers were impacting my decision making: “See how you feel in two weeks, then let’s talk…”).
The Tuesday after my surgery, I received the email informing that I would “not be returned to my position.” My mild-mannered, gentle husband, who isn’t prone to hyperbole, flipped his shit (there’s no lack of a better statement here, that’s what happened) even though we knew I wouldn’t be going back. I didn’t need to be mad. He was mad for me. I’ve never seen him so angry in all the years we’ve been together.
Because to me, it felt like the weight of the world was released from my shoulders. To him, it was the ultimate insult after more than a decade of work.
So you can imagine, at this point, that we don’t come to our discussions lightly about children. We’ve rarely come to any decision together lightly, even five years in to a marriage we hope will last us until we’re old and gray.
One of my favorite photos of us, from our first dance at our May 2008 wedding.
But I know something now I didn’t know six months ago when the world I knew changed forever: I know that when he said “for better or worse” he didn’t mean it as just a simple recitation.
We’ve been through a lot of “worse” in the past year, from my crying everyday at after work home for months to the initial prescription for Zoloft to my leave from work to what happened in January. All the time, he’s been there. My biggest cheerleader. My best friend. The smiling face I see at the end of every run I do. The person who celebrates my PRs just as much as he celebrates my finishing bad races. The man who made the biggest decision of my life in a moment I couldn’t.
“We’re waiting for the right time,” people say when others ask about having children. It’s a stock reply. It’s the avoidance reply. It’s the polite way of saying “I don’t want to talk to you about that” or “stop asking me that question.”
The reason I’m front loading my race season? The reason I’m running two marathons in the spring/summer and don’t have one scheduled for the fall/winter yet? Because now, we’ve decided together, that it’s getting so close to being the “right time.”
Three weeks ago, I replaced my half marathon PR with a brand new one.
The Garmin data isn’t even completely accurate. The actual time was a 2:20:52 half marathon. Two minutes off my previous personal best.
Yesterday, I ran a fantastic first half in the San Luis Obispo Marathon. I wanted to run my little heart out. But at mile 18, where I normally get a little held up, my left IT band started telling me how much it hated me.
I made a choice then, a smart one. I could either keep running on it until I couldn’t run anymore. Or I could pull off, slow down a little and still be able to run it into the finish. At mile 25, it really started bothering me. But I had a smile on my face the entire time.
Between the increasing heat and the lack of people over the last couple miles, I had my worst mile right before the end. It happened through the streets of downtown San Luis Obispo, where the spectators became few and the passion to finish well was waning. I was tired. I was done running.
Even then, I knew I had the goal I had projected for the very rainy, very windy California International Marathon. I was coming in well under 5:15.
When I saw my husband at the finish, I yelled out: “I’m coming in WAY under what I anticipated.”
What I’m learning: When you keep running better than expected, you should refocus your priorities. Instead of feeling anxious about every race, maybe I should just embrace each one?
I’ve replaced two PRs in three weeks. And while the SLO marathon wasn’t what I had planned, I still came in under a 12-minute average. I knocked eight minutes off my last marathon time, which is a good chunk when you think about it.
I’m better at this than I’m giving myself credit for. It’s time I start focusing on THAT as opposed to thinking about the negatives. And while a 5:12 finish may be bad for another person, on Sunday it was amazing for me.
When I was in the middle of intensive counseling sessions last fall, my therapist told me to write down a list of things I couldn’t control. Want a lesson in humility? Make that list.
You’ll end up realizing that you can’t control anything. You’ll want to give up, buy a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough ice cream and eat it while watching afternoon talk shows (Ricki Lake has a show again, who knew?). At least that’s what I did. Months later, I’m not ashamed of it. The ice cream was good. And my soul needed more soothing that I realized.
I still have my list. The third item down is “time.”
I can’t control time. Because it keeps ticking away. Because there’s always a sun up and a sun down (unless you were the dinosaurs, as one of my students pointed out to me recently). Time just moves. You either embrace the temporal moments as just that or you let some bad drag you down.
Five weeks ago today I fell hard on my left side while trying to get in my 15-mile run for this marathon training cycle. It laid me up for two weeks. Three weeks ago, I finally did that run. On my treadmill. I also ended up in the doctor’s office being properly diagnosed with a fractured radial head.
This training cycle, I didn’t do a 20-mile run. I didn’t even do an 18-mile run.
Two half marathons, one 10K, various eight and 10 milers, but no marathon-standard runs.
And I’m running a marathon this weekend.
Time. It just kept moving.
When I ended up in the hospital in January, I wondered if I’d even make it to the start line in San Luis Obispo. My husband and I did a lot of talking in the hospital. We had conversations both of us had been avoiding, or hoping we wouldn’t have to have. They concerned work. Money. Running. Happiness.
I worried more about the 10K I’d be giving up than the marathon. I’d be fine by the marathon, right? I don’t even know how to define “fine” anymore.
Three weeks ago, sitting in my doctor’s office, I was more concerned about the Oakland Half than SLO. I PRed in Oakland.
In that time, my arm has become stronger. I’m able to bend more, but still not put a lot of pressure on it. I’m able to do some of the things I couldn’t before. And I’m grateful, because time helped that. I didn’t think it would ever be better. I was convinced I was going to walk around with T-Rex arm for life.
But I was back in Modesto getting my arm looked at today. The stiffness is causing the pain. I need to regain mobility. The fracture has healed nicely so far. (See image above, where the cursor is pointing? That’s where the crack was. I took the photo for my husband.) Time healed.
Runners say that by the time you get a week out from a marathon, there’s really nothing you can do that will prepare you more. Taper. Stay off your legs. Get your gear assembled. But don’t go crazy. This past week, I kept wishing for more time. In the middle of multi-hour meetings, looming deadlines and prep to take my students to a journalism conference out of town next week, I needed a minute or two extra. Something. Anything.
The reality is that I was wishing and wanting more time to feel better about this marathon. I guess I could just not run it. But my husband doesn’t really give me that option anymore. (You know the meme that says “you had one job…” where someone messes something up even though that’s all they had to do? I kind of feel like that. I have one job on race day, and that’s to run my ass off.)
Nerves? Anxiety? Yes. Always now. But if I had four more weeks, two more weeks, I know I’d be better for it.
Tomorrow we hop in the car early and head the 3+ hours to San Luis Obispo. We’ll be staying in Morro Bay, where my husband has family. The good news is that this course has an eight-hour limit. The bad news is that last year’s finishers mostly came in well ahead of that. I’m just hoping I’m not too alone out there on the course.
For reasons I likely can’t remember, I decided to only work on one project during my week of spring break. That meant that when I came back to school on Tuesday, I was buried in work. There were invoices to send. I worked four hours with colleagues writing a proposal for funding that would provide some excellent opportunities to our students. Plus, I was running around trying to figure out where a check went.
I got on campus at 7:30 a.m. I didn’t leave until a little after 5 p.m. Then I realized the rest of my week looked just as hectic (according to my antiquated day planner), with appointments all week. Today that meant a 9:30 a.m. appointment to renew my driver’s license follow by some work at home, then a 1 p.m. appointment with the eye doctor to check out my contacts.
The DMV appointment went quick, if only because I had an appointment. I got in and out, even after they sent me the form with my name wrong (totally missing the hyphen, incredibly necessary for it to be there since my license is the one piece of identification I care about it being right on).
The eye appointment didn’t go as well. I lost one of my contacts last week after I rubbed my eye too hard. It disappeared somewhere in the produce department at Safeway. I wasn’t even going to try and find it. And I couldn’t see well enough out of that eye to bother looking. Know what’s fun? Driving home (less than a mile) with your left eye closed because your right eye is the only one you can see out of.
Tomorrow, I have a day full of work rewriting CSS and adding accessibility features to a website. On Friday, I go back to the sports medicine doctor to see how my arm is doing.
I’m a little iffy on how to really characterize it.
I’m still in pain. But it’s not that bad. The biggest thing is mobility. I’m still having some issues moving the left arm completely.
This is my right arm:
This photo is the best I can do, but you’ll notice a couple things right off. My arm can extend straight. My wrist is aligned with the arm. I can fully extend, essentially 180 degrees.
This is my good arm. This is the arm I’ve been relying on for everything lately. I can’t lift myself up without it. At the Oakland Half Marathon my husband had to pull me up off the ground with this arm because I still couldn’t bare too much weight on my left arm. I’m calling this my “strong arm” lately.
Then there’s my T-Rex style left arm:
That’s not a huge dust bunny down there. That’s Cassie. She’s taken up Beau’s love of photo bombing my blog shots.
Notice a couple things here different? My wrist is slightly askew. I can’t align it properly with the rest of my arm without getting a bit of shooting pain up my inner wrist. My elbow is also more bent than on my right arm. It still feels vastly uncomfortable to bend it. It also feels uncomfortable to try to force it into a straight position.
I’ve been trying to get it more mobile than it was three weeks ago when I initially went in to see the doctor. He mentioned ordering physical therapy the last time I was in. I’m hoping to avoid that. I think it’s past the threshold set by the doctor initially. Then, I could barely bring it out in front of me. That’s part of the reason I went to see the doctor. I knew something was wrong.
The biggest problem is still the elbow-area, where the radial head is located. I still can’t put a lot of pressure on it. I’m also having some issues with lifting or moving things, even small items.
I figured a visual would be better for an explanation of what type of pain I’m dealing with.
The red lines indicate the areas where I’m still getting shooting pain, which is essentially up my entire radius bone on both sides. The pain comes when I usually try to grab something or forget that my radial head is broken. The pain is just enough to shock me, but it doesn’t stick around. I’d like to think it’s just a reminder to me that I broke a bone and I need to slow down.
The blue rectangle shows my wrist area where I still have some general weakness. Essentially since I haven’t been using this arm all that much, everything I do with it feels foreign and just kind of wrong. I found my list of exercises from when I strained a thumb tendon shooting video that I’m using to increase the strength in that area. It still hurts, though. My grip isn’t very strong. If I’m carrying something, usually small, I hold it close to me because I’m unsure of myself.
The yellow circle is the worst and most uncomfortable of all of the pain, it indicates the area where the pain comes out once pressure is applied to the area, even slight pressure. It’s really hard not to put your arm down on a table or use it to support yourself when doing activities. Have I mentioned how hard it is to put on my running shoes with limited mobility? That elbow area is where I usually get the pain associated with that. Anytime I put pressure or increase pressure on that bone through activity, it hurts.
That’s the type of pain that actually sticks around for a bit. I’ve actually cancelled runs because the pain has become so bad I’ve taken to take an Ibuprofen, which is what I’m using for breakthrough pain.
What I’m not showing is my general mobility. My arm feels very stiff. I was warned around this. My doctor said normally when medical professionals treat these injuries, they put the arm in a sling for a couple weeks, then take it out so the patient can begin regular movement again. I’ve really struggled with that area.
Three weeks ago, I couldn’t lift my arm above my head. Even putting on a T-shirt was difficult. I couldn’t style my hair. I actually held off on dying my hair (I’m so gray without it, it’s ridiculous), for a couple weeks so my husband didn’t have to figure out how to help me. It’s not that bad now. In fact, I can lift my arm over my head, but it’s not a fluid motion.
So I’m getting better. It’s healing. But it’s happening fairly slow. I have an X-ray with my doctor’s visit on Friday. Then I’ll see just how my arm is doing.
Oct. 18: Nike Women's Half Marathon Nov. 8Clarkburg Country Run 20-Miler (Tentative) Nov. 14 Beat the Blerch Sacramento Dec. 6 California International Marathon
But runners are creatures of habit. We’re not quick to dismiss our passions just because it’s getting a little warm.
