Apr 28
We made it!
I have my bib and my bus ticket! I know what time at ‘o dark thirty I’m waking up! I’m ready, I think, to go!
I’m still more than a little scared, though.
This isn’t an easy marathon. It’s not flat. Crossing my fingers for a good run tomorrow!
Sometimes I get lucky. Just plain lucky. I owe some great career moves to luck really. I have two great internships out of state because of, what I think, is luck. I have a good job because of luck. I’m lucky in a lot of ways.
Running has never been one of those fields I’m lucky in. Despite giving it everything I have, haven’t been able to gain speed or do better than a 2:27-ish half marathon. I bust my butt and still, it’s a constant struggle.
Last year, I signed up for a group ID and registered for the Nike Women’s Half Marathon in San Francisco. I waited, lost sleep and kept checking my credit card statement.
I watched the Facebook page all day long. And finally, a day after they started announcing that they were selecting entries, I as notified I hadn’t won a coveted spot.
I was crushed. I couldn’t believe that the one half marathon I’d wanted to do since I started running was now off limits. I was so upset I didn’t really let reality sink in. That’s probably why, months later, I was still looking for entry. And, as I started this blog right before I ran that race, I think it’s now known that I found a way in as part of a sponsored team.
Four weeks ago, I applied to run this year’s half marathon. Yesterday, I got in. I was greeted at 6 a.m. when I woke up with an email in my inbox that said the following:
Whether it’s your first or fiftieth race, there really is no other feeling quite like standing at the starting line.
We’re so glad that in 2012, you’ll be sharing that moment with us.
That’s right, you read that correctly. You’ve officially been selected to run in the 2012 Nike Women’s Marathon in San Francisco. Congratulations!
I’ll admit it: I did a happy dance.
Why? I love, love, love this race. I love to run in San Francisco. I love my Nikes too. I’m thrilled to be running it again. So thrilled.
But with luck also comes disappointment. On a whim, I also applied to run the New York City Marathon. Because I’m crazy? Because I really needed to off and fly 3,000-plus miles away for a marathon?
Actually it’s because after my visit to New York City last summer on vacation, I kind of fell in love with Central Park and Staten Island. (Two very different places, yes.)
I actually imagined going for a run in Central Park. But we stayed on Staten Island in a not so view friendly part of town (I did see the tip of the Bayonne Bride from my window, though). I thought it would be thrilling to run New York.
But it wasn’t to be.
Instead, after all the Wednesday fanfare and realizing that my credit card hadn’t been charged (these days a tell-tale sign of “getting in”), I knew it wasn’t happening for me.
Only today (seriously two days later) did I receive the email notifying me that I didn’t make the cut.
Well snap.
After last year’s Nike rejection, I kind of felt as if I’d been in that place before. I didn’t hurt as deep. I didn’t feel betrayed. And I shouldn’t have really.
A race is a race.
Many big races nowadays use lotteries because they are so in demand. (I wonder how many people opted NOT to sign up for the Nike event in San Francisco, though, because the company is now going a half next spring in Washington, D.C.)
To be fair, though, I’m still a little shocked I got into Nike via the lottery this year. I had planned to take quite a bit of time off from long-distance running this summer/fall and into the winter. My goal was to reclaim my diet and cut back on mileage.
Now I’ll be training into the fall.
So I’m considering doing the Big Sur Half Marathon again. I’m also considering running the California International Marathon for a second year. Wow. I never thought I’d write that sentence.
But then I’d be in a perpetual state of marathon training for more than a year. Big deal? Maybe. I’m not quite ready to take the plunge and sign up yet.
I may after I get through this weekend, though. We head to the Big Sur/Monterey area tomorrow morning for the Big Sur 21-miler on Highway 1. I’m excited, but very, very nervous. I have a nice time limit, but the hills, I hear, are kind of killer.
And I haven’t had enough outdoor running lately. Nervous. Tense. Scared. All of those things. I’ll get through this weekend before I make any huge plans for the rest of the year.
So, last week was a banner week in my running. I’m not even 100 percent how I pulled it off either. I ran a half marathon on Sunday, which isn’t counted in the numbers.
Then I ran two miles because I was really tired. I made it a mission to run further the next day. Five miles worked for me. Then I just kind of kept building, outside of my no-run Thursday.
I was slated for 15 miles on Saturday. Jeannie and I got 10, which, for our first run outside in a good while, was good enough for me. We’re hoping to do the full 15 this weekend. It’s kind of my last chance for a long run before taper for the Big Sur 21-miler on April 29.
I even had enough energy to go to San Francisco on Sunday night for a social media workshop.
We stopped and ate, quickly, at Pier 39. Then we spent twenty minutes trying to drive less than two miles. And then Thomas had to drop me off at the bottom of a hill, only we didn’t know it was a hill then.
I took a picture of it as I was leaving because walking up it was nothing for me after a 10-mile run on Sunday.
I was so proud.
I even took a photo of myself with more of the hill behind me.
Then the week started. It’s technically spring break for me from school. So I have a little more time to devote to my 40-hour which turns into 50+ hour a week full-time job. Well. It’s weeks like this I forget how I’m able to do both.
I’ve had some personal defeats this week. I ran only five miles yesterday. I’m hoping for eight tonight.
But I found out earlier in the week that my swim school had close, permanently. That means no more swim lessons on Tuesday and Thursdays.
As much as I want to say “well, I can devote more time to marathon training” I know that I also really enjoyed the swimming and I had come incredibly far in a short time. I’m trying to figure out a gym membership to keep going.
But I’m not 100 percent sure I want to do that before the marathon.
It doesn’t help that I’m tired. In the too exhausted to do anything way. When I was paying to swim and someone was actually there waiting for me to show up, I was, well, more inclined to show up.
A pool at the gym? Alone? I’m not sure I want to take that route either.
So I’m not sure where I stand right now after last week’s stellar performance. I need more consistency in my workouts and in my running.
I just don’t know if I have the time for that. Or the will.
I hitting a two races in two weekend time of month starting this Saturday.
I have a trail 10K with a nasty elevation climb on Saturday. On March 25, I’m running the Oakland Half Marathon.
I ran two eight-mile runs on the treadmill this weekend.
I was supposed to run outside tonight, but that didn’t happen. I wish it did.
Now I’m staring down this forecast:
Yikes.
Earlier today it said rain through Sunday.
That kind of makes my 10K, with its already scary terrain, a little more so. Wet weather. Mud.
Oh boy.
This should be fun.
I’m running a six-miler on Wednesday. Then taper until Saturday morning.
All next week is taper for the half marathon.
Then, officially, I start marathon training again. I want to be stronger for the June marathon. But I also know my limitations for training. I’m not 100 percent sure I can do it. I’m not 100 percent sure of my training plan, which includes 18 and 21 mile races. No more half marathons until July, though.
I’m hoping to push hard at Oakland.
But I need to get through the wet weather of this week. And weekend.
Six miles on Friday.
Eight slow on Saturday in Mountain House.
Ten episodes of Supernatural.
Four stained bathroom vanity doors.
Four loads of laundry done.
One art project for my office at school.
And an almost-done retaining wall and backyard thanks for my husband:
He likes sticking his tongue out, yes.
Goals for March?
Blog more.
Run at least 100 miles. (Already 14 down, 8 on schedule for my Monday.)
Do better in Oakland than I did last year, though, right now I’d just like to be more consistent than I have been.
Does March come in like a lion? Doesn’t seem like it. It’s been beautiful here.
This month, though, marks the beginning of marathon training hard core again.
For 26.2 in June.
I’ve been avoiding writing a “year-end wrap up” report. I kind of don’t feel a need to on many levels. I’ve only been blogging for about four months. I’ve only been running for a little more than two years. Last year wasn’t a huge year for me, but it was a banner year for my running.
Still, why write a sentimental “all the things I did this year defined me” report?
Of all things, though, my dailymile account has been one of the most consistent things about 2011 for me. Prior to Jan. 2011, I never bothered to track my runs.
I didn’t care about weekly mileage. I didn’t care about fitting a run in here or there to make a quota.
But I knew I’d be running my first half marathon in 2011. So I signed up to track my mileage on dailymile. I was immediately hooked. The website is easy to use. It sent me weekly mileage reports. And knowing about many miles I had ran during the week helped me gauge my training.
A positive end result was I also knew how many miles I ran in 2011: 930.
And, so far, in 2012, I’ve run 60 miles.
That puts me on track for a month over 100 miles. I hope that turns out to be the case.
Dailymile last week sent me a link to my 2011 report. I’ve been staring at the data for months, so nothing was surprising.
I had a very low month when I went on vacation to New York City for a week. I only ran 38 miles in June.
I had three over 100 months leading into the marathon. I want to run further in November, but taper for the marathon killed it for me. I only logged 68 miles in December because I sincerely underestimated my recovery time from the marathon. Now that my “legs are back” I’ve been running my heart out to start logging some major mileage going into a Feb. 18 half marathon.
I have a trail 10K, a prep run for the half, coming up on Jan. 29 too.
So…about 2011.
How do I feel about it? Blah, blah…blah.
Great. I probably ran half of the 930 the year before as I prepped for 5Ks and 10Ks. With an increase in distance came an increase in mileage. That was a given. This year, with the fact I’m registered for another marathon in June, I’ll be running even more at the beginning of the year. I’m not sure yet what the end of the year holds, but we’ll see if a winter marathon is in the cards for me.
So, hopefully, 2012 will see me cut back on the number of races (21) and entry into longer races. And a mileage increase. And more running.
Dec 8
I crossed the starting mat about two minutes after the gun went off. I was surprised it went that fast actually. And the flow was good. It wasn’t too fast, because I wasn’t in he front or anywhere near. I was making good time. Or I thought so at the time. It turns out I as going out way too fast.
Mile 1: 10:30 — A gentle downhill, through an intersection. It’s deserted, but nice.
Mile 2:10:36 — The path started going uphill a little, but not bad. Still moving along fine.
Mile 3: 10:30 — The gentle downhills seems OK about right here, but I’m starting to feel the burn in my thighs. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m just starting to warm up.
Mile 4: 10:58
Mile 5: 10:54 — Hitting some small hills here. I slow to take a Vanilla Bean Gu.
Mile 6: 10:49
Mile 7: 11:50 — Here’s where the nerves start getting me. I can’t tell if it’s because I did the Gu too quickly or because my stomach is still in knots. But I start to slow a little over the next couple miles. I feel fatigue. I realize feeling tired with 19 miles to go is not good.
Mile 8: 11:46 — Trying to pick up the pace a little, still feeling queasy.
Mile 9: 12:19 – An uphill here. We were heading into Fair Oaks at about this time. It was a cute little area that turned into more up and downhills. People kept saying “Don’t worry, it’s all downhill.” No. I knew there was a difference between “downhill” and “net downhill.” California International Marathon was a “net downhill” race.
Mile 10: 11:28 — The quad burning continues. This was about the point I noticed the 4:55 marathon group was passing me. I decided I, perhaps, needed to slow down. Why? I was thinking I’d finish this around 5:30 in time at some point. I knew, only at that point, I’d gone out to past and not consistent enough.
Mile 11: 13:06 — I hit my half marathon wall here. This is usually when I pick it up, but I was feeling a little tired again. I was slowing. I did another Gu, despite the fact that I was feeling queasy after the first one.
Mile 12: 12:07 — Speeding up a little. There were a lot of people cheering me along here. I started to get motivated more.
Mile 13: 12:45
HALF MARATHON: 2:31:53 (This would be my third best half marathon ever if I was running a half marathon.)
Mile 14: 12:58 — At this point I hit my real metaphorical wall. I can’t describe it outside of panic and insecurity. My feet started to hurt. I slowed a little again. But I kept pushing. I was trying to not get below the 13:45 average that would mean I didn’t finish in six hours. I was really worried about that time limit.
Mile 15: 14:23 — It didn’t help that I decided at this point that I needed to go to the bathroom. I only did so because there were six portable toilets lined up and only four people standing in line. In between the water stop and another Gu, the pack of people I was running with passed me.
Mile 16: 11:18 — I had to pick it up again.
Mile 17: 11:40 — Still moving.
Mile 18: 11:53 — My last good mile. I say that will a lot of pride, but there’s a reason why that was the last good mile. My IT band, which had plagued me greatly when I moved from 5Ks to 10Ks. All of the sudden I was feeling it.
Mile 19: 13:09 — I slowed and walked to try to get back the leg a little. I spent the next few miles using that method. Run, walk, run. When I ran, I was averaging 11-12 minute miles.
Mile 20: 12:52 — “The wall” literally. We ran through an area that was marked by a fake wall. I looked happy, but the smile was masking my pain.
Mile 21: 12:54 — I thought of this mile as a plane descending into the destination point. This was the point where we buckle our safety belts and put the tray table in an upright position. This was also the point my feet started killing me. My IT band wasn’t behaving either.
Mile 22: 13:47 — Run/walk continues.
Mile 23: 13:20 — And more.
Mile 24: 13:07 — This was actually a very frustrating time for me. People were cheering me on from the sidelines. One guy kept yelling “if it was easy, everyone would do it!” I liked that. But it wasn’t enough to pull me out of my funk.
Mile 25: 13:18 — Still moving, but getting more excited. Someone asked me when I knew I’d finish. I didn’t for a long time. When the IT band started throbbing and I knew my feet were blistering, I didn’t think I’d make it. I had four moments where I wanted to stop, cry and call Thomas to come get me. “I don’t need to finish this,” I thought. “I have nothing to prove. I knew, as I started to make my way toward the 26-mile sign, that I’d make it. It took me that long.
Mile 26: 12:46 — And then I really knew. Thomas ran across my path. I felt a huge smile stretching across my face. I had made it.
Mile .2: 3:35 — Here I pushed. I saw the clock reading 5:22:13. I could make it before the clock turned to 5:23, I thought. I picked it up.
Gun time: 5:22:39.
Chip time: 5:20:41
I wish it was like Ironman and someone said “Tara, you ARE a marathoner.” No one did. I was handed my medal and my space blanket, which I really needed at that point if just because I wanted some comfort. I saw Thomas, kissed him and handed him my water bottle (it always gets in my way at the end even though I love it).
Then I teared up a little. I had a moment. I had done it. Less than two years after I set out on my treadmill and started running. I had run a marathon.
I was surprised at how good I felt. My feet hurt, yes. My leg was killing me. And my shins were throbbing. But I felt good.
So good I even opted to get my photo taken at the end. I NEVER do this. I always say “it’s a waste of money.” But I felt compelled to do so. You only run your first marathon once.
I found Thomas and immediately walked over to the merchandise booth and he bought me an awesome shirt that said “26.2 finisher.” I can’t wait to wear it when I run. (I haven’t done any running this week to give my legs a well-deserved rest. I’ve also been eating a ton of food,which I feel bad about, but I also deserve it.)
I didn’t find any of the requisite food that I was told was popular. The food vans were closing down as well. (That was really discouraging, especially when I finished with 40 minutes left for the finish line to be open AND it actually stayed open longer.)
We opted to head to Red Lobster on Howe Avenue after we found the car.
And then we headed home.
I was exhaustion and in pain for about two days. Not a bad pain. A good pain.
And, four days later, I’m still in awe that I did it. I ran a marathon.
Every insecurity that I’ve ever had about my work as a journalist, as an editor, as a instructor and as a person diminished during those 26.2 miles. They say it changes you. I think it makes a person stronger. You have to get mentally past barriers. You have to keep going when you want to quit. And you have to believe you can do it when you’re body is failing under you.
I ran a marathon. And for it, and all those things mentioned before, I’m 100-times better for it then I was the day before.
Another warning: This post may now be more than two parts. I think the whole “race” will be its on separate post.
My alarm for race morning was set for 5 a.m. I woke up at 4:55 a.m.
The lights outside were bright. It wasn’t daylight. Not even close. But the La Quinta in Rancho Cordova was in a well-lit area. So the lights shined through the window. I kind of hopped out of bed. I don’t know why.
Part of me was excited. Part of me was still worried.
These are the moments were the doubt really gets you.
“I’m not ready,” I thought. No way.
“I can’t do this,” was another.
I put my clothes on, somewhat methodically. I woke Thomas up, though he dwelled in the bed for about 30 minutes before really getting out of bed. I looked outside and it didn’t look cold. I knew, though, that would be deceiving. It was near freezing.
I had asked Thomas to get me a banana the night before. And a blue Gatorade. I don’t know what flavor blue is, I think it’s Glacier Freeze or something, but I like it. Thomas forgot the banana. I had a Peppermint Luna bar in my gym bag, though. My stomach was turning knots, but I knew after my Big Sur Half Marathon no-food beforehand debacle that I had to eat.
I tweeted my nervousness at close to 6 a.m.
Jennie sent me a text message saying she was ready. I told her to come on down to the room. She was there for a good 10 minutes before we packed up and left.
The moment we stepped out the door, it was cold. It wasn’t windy, despite the fact it had been for days. I felt the sting of the cold on the few parts of my skin that were exposed. I was wearing my Zensah compression sleeves with my capris. I had my new gloves on too.
The drive wasn’t that long. Not even a week later and I don’t remember much of it. Thomas made quick work of it, though. I’ve learned one thing about my husband in the past year of racing: He’s very good at getting me to the start and showing up at the finish.
But he didn’t get us close, exactly. We saw people walking toward what we thought was a start area.
Turns out it wasn’t.
It was the place where the buses from Sacramento were dropping people off. Another set of school buses were taking people up to the actual start line.
Suddenly Jennie and I were in a line.
“Where are we going,” I asked.
“TO THE START,” responded an overly enthusiastic volunteer.
And we were put on a bus. Jennie and I both had “we didn’t pay for this bus” moments. “I think we just hijacked a bus ride,” I said to her.
No matter. The bus was warm. At least for the 5 minutes or so it took us to get to the start.
There were two huge arches to mark the start. It looked a little something like this:
The photo above is from the California International Marathon website. I’m not trying to steal it or anything, but I didn’t do a lot of shooting photos in the morning. I knew it would come back and haunt me later.
The start line was actually very nice. I was way in the back. Further behind me was a gigantic line of portable toilets.
The California International Marathon Facebook page include a photo of it earlier in the week. This is that photo, cropped:
OK, enough stealing photos. That’s what it looked like. Jennie and I got in a line. It wasn’t too far back, but not close up either.
It was about 6:32 a.m. We literally waited in line until the 7 a.m. start.
In fact, there wasn’t much standing around at all. The start was quick. All the literature says the start line closes exactly five-minutes after the gun goes off.
I started my Garmin fairly quickly. I only had 10 seconds of time off between my chip time and the Garmin at the end.
I started near the back. I worked my way forward. And I took off.
The first part of the course is downhill. I got into a nice stride. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving.
And, as everyone had predicted, my nervousness all started to fall away.
Little did I know, this run would test my mind and body in ways I’d never been tested before.
This is a fair warning: This post is going to be long and over two parts. I may ramble in parts, but I’ll try to keep it together. Two days after crossing the finish line for the California International Marathon, I’m still in a little disbelief that I did it. But I did.
My time wasn’t spectacular. It was 5:20:41. But I’ll own every minute of it.
I’m now a marathoner. I can’t believe it. I don’t feel changed at all. But I know this means the beginning of something new.
But I digress.
Our journey to Sacramento started at the Sacramento Convention Center. That’s where the expo for the 29th Annual California International Marathon was being staged. My husband and I seemed to walk in at a busy time. The number/chip lines were packed in some areas. My “C” wasn’t bad. We got my number in about 5 minutes. I was also picking up my running buddy Jennie’s chip. It was her first marathon too.
The line for Jennie’s last name was much longer. And the volunteers seemed a little flustered by people coming up without their numbers. I knew mine. I knew Jennie’s. I had printed both out. So it was a breeze. The volunteer actually thanked me for having the number and not making him search by name.
I was surprised I didn’t have to do much else outside ask for Jennie’s number. I didn’t show identification. No one asked me to confirm I was me.
Even in the “chip check” area when my husband scanned Jennie’s chip, no one said anything. It was odd. to say the least.
We were sent over to the shirt table. I believe we had the choice between short/long sleeve shirts if we registered before a certain time. I opted for the long-sleeve one because I enjoy my race long sleeve shirts. It has a bear jumping out of the California flag and into the race. It’s a light blue color. And, unfortunately, I’ve already snagged it twice. That sucks because I love it! I think that might just be first marathon high still.
We walked around the expo for about 45 minutes. I scored a new pair of Zensah compression socks in purple for $32. I also got a California International Marathon shirt.
I also grabbed a pair of gloves at the expo. The temperature at the start was expected to be around 37 degrees. Cold. Very cold. And I’ve never had running gloves before. They were reasonable at $18, though on second thought I should have probably bought the size medium instead of large. But my thumb injury (which I’ll blog about at some point here) made it where I have a nearly impossible time getting gloves on and off. So I opted for the larger ones.
We spent about 15 minutes looking for where to buy posters too. It was at the same booth where people could buy $20 bus tickets. Thomas was dropping us off at the start, so we didn’t need to worry (though we ended up finding ourselves on a bus anyway, more on that in the next post).
I found the poster for this year, and another with the route. I bought both.
I can’t tell you how nervous I was at this point. This was happening. No more training runs to prepare. It was happening in less than 24 hours. I was a little freaked out. OK. More than a little.
I was having panic moments. Everywhere I turned I was reminded that the word “marathon” did not have “half” in front of it. Nope. This was the full 26.2.
Yikes. OMG. Yikes. Breathe. Yikes.
There was a lot of that happening over and over again.
Do I look nervous? I really am. I was trying to stay calm. Thomas is used to my neurotic tendencies, but I think I was on a bit of overload with this one.
I was glad then, when he suggested we go for dinner earlier rather than later. Why? I figured my stomach wouldn’t be turning as many knots if I ate early. I didn’t want to chance it.
So we headed over to Old Sacramento. Our hotel reservation was in Rancho Cordova (halfway between Folsom, where the race started and Sacramento, where it ended).
I wanted pasta. But we haven’t been to Old Sacramento in years, so we didn’t know where would be a good place to go. We walked by some pub-style places, but I didn’t want “bar food.” We found a restaurant called Ten22.
Thomas ordered the steak special. I had the chicken with pureed butternut squash and vegetables. It was amazing.
Thomas also had wine. I just had a couple Diet Cokes. I was still feeling the butterflies in my stomach when we left. Thomas wanted to walk around the waterfront for a couple minutes. It was chilly, but beautiful in Sacramento.
I’m counting myself lucky that I’ve had two overnight-type adventures lately. The trip to Monterey with my mom was a nice getaway. And this one-night away with Thomas, despite having to wake up really early, was also nice. It’s just nice to get away, even if I’m running 26.2 miles.
Thomas snapped a photo of be with the newly painted Tower Bridge in the background.
It was getting really busy in Old Sacramento. The holiday lights were beautiful, but Thomas and I were also a little tired. I’d slept in Saturday morning to prepare for what I knew would be a long night before the marathon.
We hopped in the car and headed up Highway 50 for the short drive to Rancho Cordova. Our La Quinta was nice. We stayed on the fifth floor where I saw a bunch of other marathoners.
We kind of relaxed the rest of the night, waiting for Jennie and her husband to come and get her number. Then we checked out the spa for about 30-minutes. Overall, I was just trying to calm my nerves.
When I got back to the hotel room, I laid out my clothes for the day. I had a Nike Thermal long sleeve, black Nike running capris, NikeID “I run to be powerful” shirt, Equalons, iFitness belt, timing chip on shoe, race bib, gloves, Garmin, RoadID and all my Vanilla Bean Gu was there.
I was just trying to take it all in. I wanted to take it in. But I also knew I had to make some significant strides early on in the race if I wanted to make the six-hour time cutoff. I didn’t want to go out and not be able to finish.
I tucked in with my own blanket (a tip from another runner’s blog who said it would help me sleep better and it did) and went to sleep around 10:30 p.m. Thomas went downstairs to the lobby to watch television. He came back in at around midnight.
And I slept pretty good, until about 4:55 a.m. on Dec. 4.
Race day.
More important, my first marathon.
Copyright © 2024 Tara Cuslidge-Staiano. All rights reserved.
