I’m a little late with getting everything together tonight for tomorrow’s flight from Oakland to Portland. I have my plane ticket printed. I also have my confirmation sheet for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon ready to go.
Now I’m just piecing together everything I need for the next couple days. It’s amazing how little fits in a duffel bag. I have to pack three outfits for two days essentially. And I’m bringing my “big purse.”
I’m incredibly excited. The Portland half will be my first out of state run. And there will definitely be a trip to VooDoo Doughnut involved. And I’m taking my video camera…so there may be a video blog coming from this as well — just a warning.
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’m working on my race report for the Mermaid Series Sirena 18 tonight, trying to keep on top of posts for the multiple races I’ll be doing in coming weeks. But I figured I would post a quick update about how it went.
The first 11 miles were great, averaging miles with the 10-minute mark in front of them. I felt really good until about the time I hit the turnaround with a picturesque view of Coyote Hills in the foreground, then I was running straight into the sun. And I felt it. Every single step of the way.
I had to re-read my race report from last year to realize this was a problem for me then too. Basically I melt when running into the sun. Or at least that’s what it felt like today.
My last seven miles were a struggle to keep in 12-minute range, many edging up, but not quite getting to 13.
I felt like I could have performed a lot better in those last seven miles. But I’m really proud of how I did. I took nearly 10 minutes off my time from last year. I had fun. I felt like it went by a lot faster, because it did. And I felt like I knew I could do it from the get go.
So I’m not upset. Just a little disappointed that those last seven miles weren’t as good as the first 11. But getting in 11 miles in under two hours is impressive for me, not matter how I feel about the whole race right now.
I’m proud. And that’s probably the biggest difference between me as runner now and me as a runner a year ago: These things are no longer disappointments. They are just part of the journey.
I’ve been in need of new socks for about a month now. Most of my original Nike collection has holes in it, right in the big toe where my nail has gone through. I’ll admit, the socks have lasted a good while for as much as I wear them.
I found my favorite running socks, though, in 2012 before the Pasadena Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon when Sam and I visited the Nike Outlet inside the Citadel Outlets in Los Angeles.
We just happened to stop by when we were checking out a ton of other places.
Those two pairs have actually been my most resilient pairs. No toe issues, still fit good, etc.
In fact, I’ve been relying on them more and more as my other ones start to fall apart.
On my way back from the Oakland Half Marathon expo, I stopped at a new outlet center in between Oakland and where I live. The Paragon Outlets in Livermore recently opened up. This was the first time I stopped there, so I didn’t realize there was a Nike store.
But when I saw it, I immediately knew I had to track down another pair of those socks (or three, whatever).
And I found them, after some looking. For $7.99 a pair. I bought three pairs for just over $26 with tax.
These will likely last me a good while. Plus, they are soft and cushy. I wore a pair for the Oakland Half the next day. Since that run turned out good, I figured I really, really needed new socks.
Now I have a relatively close place to get them at a discount.
I’ve decided that I need to be more upset, at least for five seconds or so, about my arm being fractured.
So here’s my boo-hoo rant: Seriously? Do I need one more problem? Isn’t 2013 already screwed up enough? Isn’t my training cycle for the San Luis Obispo Marathon already damaged enough? Wasn’t it enough my gallbladder had to be removed eight days into the year? WHY? WHY IS THIS ALL HAPPENING? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
End rant.
Now look at Beau.
I don’t know about you, but I can’t be mad or annoyed when I see his little face. Actually, he’s not that little. He’s 70-pounds of dog that likes to plop down on top of me when he thinks I’ve slept in too long. He’s a good alarm clock that way. Lately he hangs with me in my home office when I’m coding websites.
When I get frustrated I sometimes say “ahhhhhhh!” really loud. He just kind of gives me this concerned look. Or this is his “I want your food” look. I’m not really sure. But if I offer him a Peep, he takes it. And he loves it.
That was his face when I got home from my trek to a nearby town for my appointment with an orthopedic specialist. Today, I got lucky, though, I got to see a sports medicine doctor.
Cue divine moment in medical center when the receptionist said: “You’ll need to go down to the sports medicine department, your doctor is based there.”
AHHHHHHHHH:::HEAVEN OPENING:::HARPS PLAYING:::BABY ANGELS CARRYING WELCOME SIGN FLYING BY
Why was that so exciting? Because I’d get to talk to someone who “gets it.” I had a feeling this would be fine.
An assistant pulls me into the inner sanctum of sports medicine and takes my blood pressure, which I’m happy to report is much lower than it was two days ago. I also weigh a pound less, good considering I started a very strict diet at the beginning of the week.
Same questions: Where does it hurt? How did you fall?
“I was running. I turned around to say something to my friend Jennie. I went down. Hard. I couldn’t hear out of my right ear for a couple minutes. Everything went black for a little while,” I said.
What I didn’t say, but wanted to: “Oh yeah, that was two weeks ago. I walked around like this for nearly two weeks before seeking medical treatment. I’m not that stupid usually. Even my students made fun of me for being that stupid. And my husband. My husband hasn’t let up on me for this bit of stupidity.”
In the room, she prepped a small table. My first thought was that they’d already decided I needed a cast. Panic took hold of me. I’m running a 10K tomorrow! I can’t have a cast! NOOOOOOOOO!
I waited nervously.
Shaking my legs back and forth off the table like I did when I was younger at the doctor’s office.
There was a photo of the doctor in on his racing bike, wearing a number. He gets it, I kept thinking to myself. It will be OK.
When he came in, I recounted what happen and how stupid I was for not coming in sooner. He took measurements by degree of my left arm’s mobility. He compared them to my right arm.
Let’s just say this: If my right arm was operating at A-grade proficiency, my left arm would be getting a D. Maybe a D+ at best. Stupid failing arm.
Then he shocked me by saying something to the effect of “if you were to fracture a bone, this would be the best kind to have.” Apparently it’s also one that is easily missed. He showed me the X-ray. I didn’t see anything broken really. Just a faint black area on one film. Then a chip on another.
That stupid chip is what’s causing me so much pain?
Yes.
He would have recommended a sling for a week when it happened. Now? No sling. No wrapping. No compression. I was stunned. For real? I finally got a break? (God, I hate puns.)
I have another appointment in three weeks where, as indicated above, I’ll get an X-ray on arrival and then proceed up to see the doctor. It’s still very much broken, but it’s one of those “it’s already healing” things too. That’s why it feels better and I can use it a lot more than I could a couple weeks ago.
When I threw the sling of agony in the backseat of my Jeep, I felt victorious. Then I tried to close my car door. And that hurt like hell.
Then I tried to open a store door while running errands. I probably shouldn’t do that either. There’s no sling or wrap, but the bone is still not 100 percent. It’s probably not even 50-percent fine.
I called my husband who said I was the “incredible healing woman” and then muttered something about being glad I was using our new health insurance so soon. The joke in our house is that I’m falling apart (as indicated by so many things lately), and he should trade me in for a new model. I told him we should have had one of those Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes agreements when we got married nearly five years ago. Something that said after five years he could exchange me if I started falling apart. I would have added on a clause saying the exchange would be tall, skinny and blonde. Because I care. I think I should have come with a warranty.
The best part about all of this? I didn’t have to prompt the doctor to ask if I could keep running. I had told him early in the appointment I was training for the SLO marathon.
He just told me I could.
“I was kind of doing that anyway,” I said.
He wasn’t even surprised. He didn’t turn away from writing my aftercare instructions.
Yes. I’m running the Rock ‘n’ Roll Portland Half Marathon. It’s the day before my 29th birthday. I’m considering this my birthday present to myself, kind of a big celebration to welcome my last year in my twenties.
I’m heading up with my running buddy Sam. I’m crashing in her room. I’m going to keep costs down by being as frugal as possible while there, but certain things will happen. Voodoo Donut will happen for sure.
I’m excited. This will be my first race out of state. And, surprisingly, I’ve never been to Oregon. I’ve been to Seattle, but that was a long time ago. I haven’t been out of state since we went to New York a couple years ago.
My husband is stoked because it means he’ll have quite a few nights without me in upcoming months. I’m taking my students to a journalism conference in April. Then there’s this. I have his blessing to have a good time.
I think I’m more excited about this race than I am about any other coming up. It is sure to be a good time! Look forward to running PDX!
Confession: I fall off my bike a lot. I love it dearly, but it’s fast and scary. (Yes, I’m wearing a helmet.) The last time I took my bike out for a ride, I crashed into a light pole I was trying to grab on to so I could unclip from the pedals quickly. I’ve kind of concluded that it will take a miracle for me to get better at cycling.
Second confession: In the hundreds of miles I’ve logged outside, I’ve only ever had a “tumble” when running. It wasn’t even a legitimate fall. It was, to say the least, weak sauce when it came to falls.
Until today.
That’s an epic bad wrist sprain thanks to a stupid broken sidewalk that I missed.
Let’s back up to this morning: Jennie and I were planning a noon 15-mile run through my very small city. Tracy is literally five miles each way, not counting the outlining areas, and pretty easy to navigate around. I have five, six, nine and 10 mile paths that are my “go-tos” when I need those distances. I usually do my long runs in an adjacent community where I know the paths, the sidewalks and basically feel comfortable about not getting cat calls (I’m not the cutest girl, but men can’t seem to resist yelling “hey baby!” or whistling as I run by).
Today, we decided on a Tracy run. That meant I needed a new plan since I didn’t want to repeat my five-milers three times.
We started out slow. It’s March 1, but it’s been pleasantly nice in California. I’d say it was somewhere in the 70s today, which was hard on us if only because we are so used to cold-weather running. My legs took forever to warm up. We got lost, my fault, once. And as we were finally getting our stride, I turned back and said something to Jennie…
SPLAT.
UGH.
OWWWWW.
ERRRRRUMMMM.
&*^&%^$#^&)%@!!!!!!!
All of that happened.
I had missed a part of the sidewalk that was sticking up. In broad daylight. And I was the spotter, the lead runner. I basically failed at my job today. (I’m also always the one with the headlamp, go figure.)
I think Jennie was so awestruck she didn’t know what happen.
She tried to pick me up off the ground as I rolled there, half stunned. The fall took my breath away. I got up and started walking.
I’ll premise this next stuff by saying this: Jennie is a mom.
She’s not just a mom. She’s a pretty excellent mom. And therefore Jennie went all mom on me (I’m not being patronizing, I’m actually really glad she did).
I got up and started walking. I was a little off. I couldn’t hear out of my right ear (!!!!). I was wobbly at best. My chest hurt. And the world around me kept getting black. I told her all these things.
“I’m going to call Chris to come get us,” she said, taking my phone. Chris is her husband. He was home today too (Jennie had off, I stepped away from my freelance stuff to run).
“We need to get you ice,” she said.
Twenty minutes later, we were stocking up on ice packs, bandages and Peeps (don’t judge me) at CVS, which happened to be right down the street from where I fell.
Jennie did an emergency wrap in the car. I was still kind of fuzzy.
Jennie also did something that I wouldn’t have done myself: She told me the run was over. No ands, ifs or buts. The run was over. I was to go home, take Ibuprofen, apply ice and rest.
That’s why I love Jennie. When she means business, she means business.
So I was all iced-up. I’m still feeling a little woozy. But my legs, which took a hard hit, don’t hurt, outside of a new war wound that isn’t too bad. I was surprised, actually, that my Nike Retro capris didn’t rip. I think if I’d been wearing any other pair of capris, I’d have a hole as big as my knee where I hit.
And let’s ignore the fact that I don’t shave my legs well.
Five hours later, I’m grateful for a few things. The first is that Jennie’s husband came and got us. I don’t think I would have been able to walk home. I barely got to CVS. We were about two miles from home. (Again, not long, but long enough when you can’t see anything right.) He’s a good guy like that.
The second thing is that Jennie has enough good sense for the two of us. She knew, despite my initial protests, that there was no way I’d finish this run, no matter how much I wanted it. And I did want it. This marathon training cycle has been so messed up that I really just want some good training runs so I know I’m ready for the April 7 marathon in San Luis Obispo.
I’m also grateful I’m not hurt worse than I am.
I’m a little wobbly still. I feel a little nausea as well. Jennie says I might have hit my head. I can’t remember if that happened (would I?), but I know I’m feeling off balance.
I have a wrap around my wrist, but it hurts far above where it stops as well.
I told my husband that’s what happens when 170 pounds falls hard on the ground. I’m not a light woman. I may not look that big, but my legs are pretty heavy. (When I started marathon training years ago, I weighed 160. I haven’t gained any inches per se, but I’ve gained weight. So it’s muscle, thank you very much.)
The Garmin, replaced as of November before the marathon, also is a little worse for the wear.
I’m pretty sure I looked down at it and was disappointed as Jennie was trying to hold me all together.
My legs are surprisingly feeling OK right now. I’m planning to do a short run with Sam tomorrow in fact. My arm and upper body aren’t feeling as great. I told Jennie it’s like I got hit by a car. There’s a lot of pain.
That said, my wrist movement, while slightly unbearable, isn’t enough to keep me away from work (or my blog).
But I’m saying it: Sometimes running sucks. For me it’s usually when my calves hurt so bad I can’t go any further and my body feels like giving up.
Even more: How come more cities don’t mark sidewalks when they are screwed up? I know that’s a lot to ask for. And I know my regular routes have marks where the sidewalk is broken, cracked or peaking up a little. Could I have been paying more attention? Yes, definitely. But still. A hazard is a hazard.
Speaking of which, I’m considering investing in this sign:
Not so much for the route, but for me. After ramming the woman at Rock ‘n’ Roll Pasadena and taking myself out today, I’m starting to think I may be the problem.
But I consider myself pretty cautious. I run at night with a headlamp and pepper spray. I scout the roads and crossings before we cross. I’m pretty vigilant. Except today. So how do I avoid being the tripping hazard?
Today marked kind of a comeback for me, more than last week’s performance at my half marathon.
This morning, I went back to my base mileage point and ran a 10 for the first time outside since my gallbladder removal. I’ve run a couple shorter, smaller runs, but nothing this long.
I think everything was aligned just right, because this is the view I was greeted with:
A beautiful crisp morning. No clouds (that’s fog rolling over the Diablo Range) and a slight breeze. I kind of wanted to just sit and stare at it.
A couple notes from my run:
I didn’t have the stomach/abdomen issues I was having before the gallbladder removal. That means I went to the bathroom less and ran more, plus I enjoyed the run. No bending over and clenching my side.
We went slow, to get through the 10. My running buddy has kind of fallen off training since I lost my gallbladder. She actually said, joking: “Damn you and your gallbladder removal.” I think she was joking at least.
My new Nike LunarEclipses gave me blisters. Yep. On my baby toes AND along the inner part of my right foot. I haven’t had running blisters in forever. I’m starting to think they were maybe tied too tight, or where too loose. Or a combination of the two?
I felt amazing afterward. No stress. No worries. I just ran.
We may run again tomorrow, at a slower pace. We’ll see.
I just kind of had to share the view from my 10 this morning. Because it was amazing, both metaphorically and actually.
I left off my last post eluding to what a night Sam and I had. Last year, I kept getting woken up by some annoying children in a room above us. When I booked this year’s hotel, I didn’t want to stay at that place again. It had paper-thin walls. I didn’t know when I booked this year’s hotel that it was, essentially, right across the street.
We went to bed around 10 p.m. because we had to wake up at 4:30 a.m.
Yes, that early. I felt like I was running the first half of the San Francisco Marathon all over again. Way to early. But we were told to get to the Rose Bowl by 5:15 a.m. even though the race didn’t start until 7:30 a.m.
We were tired. I figured we’d go to sleep pretty fast. That didn’t happen. We kept hearing screaming downstairs, people basically yelling things like “woo!” and other crap. I’m not kidding with the “woo!” it was so annoying. I think both of us literally got only four hours of sleep by the time our alarms went off.
We rolled out of bed and were rather efficient in getting up and out early. Our drive was less than five miles. We were there, trekking down the hill into the Rose Bowl parking lots before most other cars did.
Our reward for getting there so early? An awesome parking spot.
We were literally less than 100 yards from the starting corrals. Plus we were right across from a row of portable toilets. (Is it weird that I thought this was a pretty sight? The Rose Bowl sign in the background and all the portable toilets.)
It was a nice enough spot that we stayed in the car for about an hour. We kept the heater running and just kind of hung out as everyone walked by. At about 6:30 a.m. we decided it was time to check out the pre-race snacks and head to the portable toilets were knew were clean.
It wasn’t as crazy as last year, when I swear there weren’t as many porto-potties. But the morning was really, really cold.
I opted not to wear a long-sleeve shirt because I knew I’d end up taking if off. So I was freezing cold walking around. I was jumping up and down and even slightly running in order to get warm again.
The ground was still frozen when Sam and I headed to check out the banana booth. Bagels were also being handed out. I grabbed a small water. Sam took a banana, which she only ate half of.
As she was folding it up, a woman walked by and said: “Oh…save that for later, after you start the run!” We both kind of looked at each other and wondered where Sam was supposed to “save it for later.”
She figured out a way, tucked into the new water belt she bought at the expo the day before.
We were sure it would fall out though, so she just threw the rest of it away. (Sorry people who think that’s wasteful.)
By the time we finished going to the bathroom and getting fueled up, which included my pre-race Vanilla Bean Gu, it was time to hit the corral. We both worked our way over to corral six, which was the 2:20 corral. When I signed up I had no idea I’d be having my gallbladder removed only five weeks before.
The day was going decent so far.
After the National Anthem and some other talk, the start line began moving exactly at 7:30 a.m. It was then I realized I had to go to the bathroom again. I’m not even kidding. The anxiety had gotten to me as it had previously. And I had nowhere to go but out of the shoot, since the corrals were being released every two minutes.
That’s how far back we were initially. We’d be up there within minutes. Not enough time for me to go. So I decided to start the race and figure it out on the way, meaning I’d find another blue-wonder porto-potty along the run.
And that’s how I started the run.
Mile 1: 10:13 — Starting out strong and didn’t feel like I was going this fast. Maybe it was because I had to go to the bathroom, but I kind of kept going. I jammed up the first hill, which I thought was a bit of a monster last year. We hit a mile at about the top of the hill.
Mile 2: 11:42 — I actually didn’t slow down my mile pace here. I found a bathroom. I actually commandeered it, only the second time I’ve ever done so. I didn’t feel bad about it this time either. There were two rows of bathrooms, four on the front, hour on the back. There was also a portable toilet set up for persons with disability. No one was in the toilets on the back. So I grabbed one. It probably added about a minute or so onto my time, but I had to go. And I got a toilet without waiting. Score.
Mile 3: 11:19 — The largest hill here. I ran up it most the way, slowing down a little to stay consistent.
Mile 4: 10:28 — The start of another downhill. Still feeling good.
Mile 5: 10:24 — Getting consistent now. No issues. Not feeling tired. Downed another Vanilla Bean Gu right here.
Mile 6: 10:33 — Starting to really see the time I was running. I wondered if I should keep pushing it, or if I should pull back a little. This was also the start of the later out and backs that then take runners back to the main street.
Mile 7: 11:27 — Decided to pull back a little. I start getting a twitch in my ITB band on my right side. I wondered if that would be the end of the good run.
Mile 8: 11:04 — Still feeling really good despite some more hills. Not too bad.
Mile 9: 12:21 — The worst of the hills. I slowed down a little bit. A huge hill. I walked up the last little bit to the top. I was starting to get tired. I downed another Gu. I was really in need of water.
Mile 10: 11:08 — This mile was mostly downhill, but I was trying to be conservative in my approach. I didn’t want my leg to give up on me like it did last year in mile 10 of this run.
Mile 11: —12:30 — Then I hit the WALL. I rarely hit the wall in half marathons these days. But I hit it hard here. I could see the finish line as we started around the Rose Bowl and adjacent golf course. This is also where I started to experience a little bit of the dizzy spells I’ve been having since the surgery, just generally feeling off center.
Mile 12: 13:04 — Which let to me running into a woman en route to finishing this mile. I actually didn’t really run into her as much as body checking her. I was so embarrassed. I nearly took her out with me. I had a moment where I nearly collapsed. She grabbed my arm and asked: “Are you OK?” I put myself back together and explained I had surgery weeks before and still wasn’t feeling very stable on long runs. “Should you even be running?” she asked, surprised. “I’m at mile 11, so I’m doing OK.”
Then I ran off. So if you are the lady who was concerned about the slightly drunk-looking runner in mile 12, I’m sorry. I wasn’t drunk. I just run off centered lately and tend to veer toward the right side. Forgive me. I felt bad long after that.
Mile 13: 10:14 — And then I found something in me that I’d lost for about a year. I found a will to continue, despite the pain and slight confusion. I was so “on.” I kept saying: “Run, Tara, just run.” And I ran. And I passed the 2:30 pacers. And suddenly it wasn’t about “just finishing” anymore. It was about getting in under my time from last year.
Mile .21: 2:04 (9:51 pace) — I high-tailed it up the hill and ran down the shoot and looked at my time. I managed to cut off 20 minutes from my time last year. That’s huge.
Official time: 2:28:21
Garmin time: 2:28:36
And my first thought: What the hell just happened?
I walked through the finishers corral, picked up all the fun drinks and snacks and made my way back to the closely-parked car. I figured I’d get a bag so that Sam and I had a place to put everything when she finished.
I called my husband. I told him about the run.
Then I went and sat down by the “G” marker, for other reason than that’s just where I wanted to sit.
That’s where I drank my fat free chocolate milk and pondered how in five weeks I’d got from being in a hospital bed to running one of the best half marathons of my life.
And because it was one of the best half marathons of my life, I broke my self-imposed rule about buying running clothes, with my husband’s blessing of course.
So what happened in those five weeks. A lot. Everything. I went from self-loathing to being confident. I also realized that I had it in me all along. Somewhere in the ridiculous journey of the past five months, I’ve realized that I’m stronger than I think. And I’m better at running than I gave myself credit for.
Pasadena wasn’t supposed to be my “A” race, but I’m comfortable kind of letting it be for a minute. Oakland was my new “A” race even though it’s only two weeks before I run a marathon in April. Sometimes we surprised ourselves with just how much we want something.
I wanted this race. I needed this race to prove that after all the work-related crap, I was just as strong, if not stronger, than I was before it all happened. My friend Jennie tells me bad things happen for a reason. She believe my reason is to prepare me for something better. Nowhere did I feel that more than sitting under the “G” sign in Pasadena after finishing a half marathon I had no business running five weeks after having an organ removed.
But it felt amazing.
To top it off, Sam and I checked out the Far East Movement playing at the end of the run.
I’m not a huge fan, but they put on a pretty good show. We got back to our hotel by the noon hour where we quickly showered than jumped back into my car to head back to Northern California.
I wasn’t expecting it to go as well as it did, if only because last year was a disaster and the scars from the surgery are still bright red and fresh. But Pasadena turned into a redeeming run for me. Now it’s time to train for the flatter, faster Oakland.
There’s always a little bit of anxiety when you start toward a race expo, especially one that’s more than 300 miles away. Why? A lot can happen in three hours. Between traffic and other things, it’s always best to start out a little earlier than normal and hope that there are no snags along the way.
On Saturday, there were no snags. None whatsoever. Everything seemed a bit too easy.
My running buddy Sam and I hit the road at about 10 a.m. from Mountain House, which is west of Tracy. It’s also the place I do a lot of my runs.
We hopped on Interstate 5 and just kept on going. We only had to stop once, about 50 miles before The Grapevine, the stretch of road that takes drivers from the valley floor over the Tehachapi Mountains. On one side, there’s an expanse of land before you, on the other a metropolis.
We made the long journey on one tank of gas plus some. And we arrived in Pasadena around 3 p.m., which gave us ample time to scope out the expo.
Pasadena is only in its second year as a “tour stop” for Rock ‘n’ Roll, so the expo is still relatively small in comparison to the flagship San Diego run. It didn’t take us long to work out way through the bib pickup, even with a small wait for our $10 parking pass for the Rose Bowl.
Speaking of which, a lot of people were really upset about the whole “pay-to-park” thing. Most of the other races don’t required it. I’ve been in a lot of races that actually make concessions and find people places to park. Apparently other Rose Bowl-hosted races don’t require this. Because we had paid last year, waited in the traffic and hung out in the morning, Sam and I were prepared for all this crazy.
I purchased the pass ahead of time.
We picked up our red Brooks event shirts and our swag bags and headed into the expo where we quickly bypassed the Brooks area, outside of checking out a very interesting display with fake beer.
Fake beer is the way to sell pint glasses, I must say. But I didn’t buy one. We kind of just ran through that area because I’m on a “no new clothes” kick right now. I didn’t even look.
Sam and I checked out all the booths and she picked up some new running equipment. A fire at her house late last year means she has absolutely no gear. We picked up a new bottle set for her, which was a discounted $15 and had four small bottles and a place to stash stuff. Plus, it was Nike, so she got a deal.
I loved this label on another belt she looked at. Penguins. For penguin runners? I don’t know. I kind of consider myself a penguin.
The sad part of the expo was that we didn’t find the “cake booth.” It’s some sort of organic, healthy cake that we’ve seen at multiple Rock ‘n’ Roll expos. The reps at the booth gave out these amazing slices of cake, with frosting even, that were incredibly delicious and apparently good for you as well.
See all those awesome running clothes? I didn’t buy any at the expo. I was so proud of myself.
The real purpose, though, of our expo visit outside of picking up our stuff was to hit up the main Rock ‘n’ Roll booth. Sam has a Tour Pass for this year, meaning she pays a flat amount and can run as many races as possible. I’m really noncommittal about races going into the later part of the year after I run two marathons in the first six months, so I didn’t go that route.
Sam wants to run San Diego again.
After last year’s disastrous run there, I was reluctant. I kept waiting for the course map to be posted online. By the time it was, the price had gone up. So my only chance to register at a lower price was to do so at the expo.
So we ventured to the booth to do so.
I saved $15. The downside? We didn’t register for the 2014 Pasadena run for $70, which will be the lowest price all year. But I really hate making a decision on something like that this far in advance.
For registering, I also got a Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego T-shirt, which was pretty rocking.
After those few things, we were kind of done at the expo.
So we left. By then it was later than it was last year when we finished. We had planned on meeting one of my friends for dinner. But we saw that the Macy’s across the street from the expo was having a closing sale.
So we went.
Because we needed shoes and all.
Not really. But we bought shoes.
We were starting to get a little hungry though, so I sent my friend a text message. We hadn’t yet checked in our hotel room. But both of us were more tired than we thought we would be anyway. My friend was caught up with something, which was a bummer, but we figured since we were already out, we’d find a place to eat.
Last year we ate at this ridiculously bad seafood place right down the street from where we stayed. We both still laugh at how bad the service was and how bad the food was.
This time, we found a great Mexican place. Both of us ordered fajitas.
The food totally made up for last year’s horrible fare.
It was amazing. Plus, we had a ton of leftovers that we both of us ate when we got all the way home the next day. The food was just as good as leftovers.
We finally checked in to our hotel room around 7 p.m. Saturday. The room was nice, toasty and, we thought, would be a little more quiet than last year when we heard people above us making loud noises all night long.
We were so wrong.
Another one of my friend’s stopped by for about an hour to catch up (I know a lot of people in the Los Angeles area, more than I ever think I do). Then it was off to bed for a 4:30 a.m. wake up even though we were only four miles away from the race start.
Why so early? The parking lot closes at 6:15 a.m. for the 7:30 a.m. start.
Unfortunately we didn’t fall asleep all that well. Instead, we heard people screaming in the parking lot and on E. Colorado Blvd. at midnight. It was ridiculous. Both of us woke up numerous times. It seemed our hotel management did nothing to make it stop. In fact, unlike most the hotels I’ve been to, this one’s lobby wasn’t even open at 5 a.m. when we headed down to my car.
It was still dark when we ventured to the Rose Bowl.
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
