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Apr 19

What we take from Boston

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I know there will be a lot of posts about Boston this week. I know that I’m also behind on being relevant with this. It’s amazing what happens when you are no longer tied to the day-to-day life of a journalist. I’m still in the mindset of a journalist, though. When I see a to-do list, I bust through it like there’s no tomorrow. Because in news tomorrow is too late.

This week, I’ve been bogged down in catch-up projects that got pushed aside during my student’s journalism conference.

But I’ve also been watching the news.

A lot of news. It’s basically been on auto play behind me for four days.

On Monday, I told my husband that this hits close to home in more ways that I could even comprehend as I watched the events unfolding in front of me Monday. This was an attack of unspeakable horror. At a public event. At a marathon.

I run marathons.

Once upon a time I was accused, by a newspaper reader, as making a horrific event all about me. The problem with events like what happen in Boston, a lot of people start asking themselves questions about how it could impact them, or if it could.

What I knew before Monday: The start line used to be what caused massive anxiety for runners (especially me).

What I know now: Now the finish line takes on a completely different meaning.

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THE FINISH LINE

The start line has always been a source of fear and trepidation among runners (the photo above is the Oakland Half Marathon start in March). It’s when your heart starts racing. When every doubt you can think of crosses your mind. If you’re anything like me, the moment you get past the start is actually the minute you feel any sort of relief.

The finish? The finish brings mixed emotions, depending on how a runner does. The first marathon? The finish is the goal. The PR run? The finish is the moment to quit the push. The bad run? It’s the moment it’s finally over.

Consider what the Boston Marathon represents to those who run it. It’s the crowing glory for the everyday runner. It’s a tough race to get into. Runners have to qualify. I likely will never qualify for Boston. Many runners won’t. For those who do, it’s not just about those 26.2 miles. It’s not about Heartbreak Hill. It’s about the journey.

Seeing that finish line? It’s the finish line of all finish lines.

Now it means something completely different. Joy and accomplishment have been replaced with sorrow.

‘LARGE PUBLIC GATHERINGS’ A CONCERN?

On Monday, one of the talking points that kept coming up was that of how to make “large public gatherings” safe.

Have you ever considered any marathon you run a “large public gathering?”

Think about it. Because until this week, I never did. Instead, I lumped running events into “you either have to be crazy enough to do this or love someone who is” to be here. I think about the smaller races I’ve run, where people not involved were annoyed at our presence when streets were closed down. The bigger races? Well, even those didn’t really seem all that big.

Then I think about the Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon. I ran the full 26.2 last year (it sucked, I cried, I’m over it).

According to Active.com, the “Epic Summer Run” is one of the top 10 runs, according to finishers, in the United States.

The ING New York Marathon (43,660), Bank of America Chicago Marathon (33,701), Boston Marathon (22,843) and the Marine Corps Marathon (21,405) are the top four. Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego includes 13,361 finishers. I was among those finishers last year.

This year I’m signed up for the half marathon with my friend Sam. She’s running all the Rock ‘n’ Roll events she can this year.

Yes, the suspects were apprehended (one died, the other was taken into custody earlier this evening). But there are so many twisted people in this world (what you learn from 10 years in the news industry is that humanity, while there are good moments, is full of bad people), that I wonder if this could happen somewhere else.

I’m running San Diego before I run the San Francisco Marathon this summer. Both are large events.

I’d be lying if I said thinking like this didn’t trigger my anxiety.

TECHNOLOGY AND SOCIAL MEDIA ARE EVER PRESENT

This is kind of a given, but you don’t see it really, truly in action until something like this happens. On Sept. 11, 2001, very few people had their smart phones out. Facebook wasn’t invented. Those initial images we received on the attacks? More often than not, they were from news photographers. Not a lot of people were pulling out their smart phones.

Today? The finish line at the Boston Marathon was literally the most photographed public place that day. From the moments before (captured by a Boston Globe videographer), to the moment of (captured by an Instagrammer flanking the race path) to the aftereffects (including the YouTube video of people pilfering the Adidas booth).

I ask my students in my first lecture of every semester the same question: Where do you get your news?

Where did you find out about Boston?

I was knee deep in code and curriculum writing on Monday. A Facebook status post alerted me to Boston. It was from another runner friend. That’s when I turned on the television. I tell my students all the time that the best ideas for stories come from Facebook. I can name about 10 ideas that I’ve found on Facebook in the past year.

Twitter is also good for that. This obviously was a breaking news event. Still, social media played a huge role in conveying messages to the masses. I teach mass communication. Unfortunately a really bad headache kept me from my class and more talk of the Boston Marathon on Thursday, but believe me, we’ll be digesting this story for weeks to come.

Why? There is just so much more now out there. We are seeing every side of this story, good, bad and indifferent. Consider, too, that the photos also played a huge role in the identifying of the suspects. The FBI was asking for photos and video.

Say what you want about being in a wired society, in this case it helped crack the case.

RUNNERS ARE STRONGER THAN THIS

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This may be the most obvious lesson from watching the bomb blasts in Boston. The videos show the dazed reality runners were heading into after the blasts. And 468 just kept running. That’s right, nearly 500 people finished the 26.2 mile journey AFTER the bombs blew.

“They had no idea what was happening,” one of my Facebook friends wrote.

True. But if you’ve ever run a marathon you know that in those last few miles, you are basically on autopilot. Your legs feel like they are going to collapse under you. You can’t remember exactly why you signed up. You are tired.

The moment you see the finish line, you just run. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve missed seeing my husband at the finish line because I’m just running and not thinking about anything else.

Runners are a tough bunch.

Runners are also part of a tight-knit community.

And we come to the aid of other runners in times of need. Members of my running club were posting links on how to help, whether it be racking up charity miles or donating to campaigns.

On Thursday, Adidas introduced Boston: Stand as One shirts. The first ones listed, including the yellow one above for women, sold out. I was able to grab up a yellow one before they were all gone. The $26.20 goes to One Fund Boston to support the victims of the attack.

Runs have been scheduled across the country for people to show support. This is an amazing community to belong to.

“You will run again,” President Barack Obama said to attendees of a prayer service on Thursday. The truth, though, is that runners never stop running. Those 468 marathoners kept running. There were people running for Boston that evening. There have been all week. This weekend, the London Marathon will go on as planned, though with more security precautions.

SO WHAT DO WE TAKE FROM BOSTON?

Hours after the second suspect was apprehended alive, what we take, at least right now, is the realization that it only took law enforcement four days, less than 100 hours, to catch the the two allegedly responsible. That’s fast.

We also take away a sense that we may not be as safe on the marathon route, that once exposed in those 13.1 or 26.2 miles, the finish line is not a guarantee.There’s no promise we’ll make it to the end. As runners we know that going in.

But we also take a sense of community, of knowing that we are not alone because there are people out there who want the good to outweigh the bad. And that’s the real lesson in this week.

Apr 15

Jumping back in

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There was a bit of a joke in my house last week about my ample amount of extra time since I usually take a week off of running after a marathon. It’s less about recovery, more about me giving myself a treat. One week without running.

That said, I really didn’t have “ample” free time last week. I spent Monday recovering from the run while coding some websites, specifically mocking up a text-only version of a site I’d been working on for some time. Then my students had full-day labs both Wednesday and Thursday for the newspaper. Then, as I was hoping for a wind down, I left with six students for a three-day, two-night journalism conference.

Once there, it was literally one thing after another for the entire time.

I’m not ashamed to say I slept most of Sunday.

So today is finally my “back to running” day. But I’m buried in projects. So I’m not 100 percent sure that’s going to happen either.I’m also behind on grading. So far behind.

Yikes.

That joke about free time? It’s really just a joke.

But since I’m home more now than I was six months ago, my husband constantly reminds me that I can’t just walk past the dishes and laundry anymore without doing anything.

I was peeling potatoes last week and he offered to buy me an apron.

“You’ll probably need one now,” he laughed.

My husband, the comedian.

I need to jump back into running. But I’m still a little tired from the crazy week I’ve had.

Part of that means writing down a plan for the San Francisco Marathon. Right now, I have my 18-miler in place (thanks to the Mermaid Series Sirena 18), and a half marathon planned out (Rock ‘n’ Roll Portland).

The quick turnaround between runs means I go back to mid-length runs this weekend, maybe even a 10-miler. In fact, I have a feeling that I’ll be doing at least two 15-milers during this training cycle. San Francisco is big on hills. I need to be ready.

So here’s to jumping back into it, or at least trying to, this week.

Apr 3

Healing up, slow and steady

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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:

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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:

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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.

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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.

Mar 29

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In Oakland, my best 13.1 performance to date

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Right after I ran my first marathon, a coworker told me he knew I had it in me. He also brought me cake, which was amazing, but he kept saying it: “I knew you’d finish.”

I’m still kind of stunned at that response. Because I didn’t know. I admitted that, later on, to someone because I kind of felt like a fraud. I didn’t really believe in myself to know I could do it. My body kept telling me I couldn’t. So did my mind. Everything told me I couldn’t do.

“Then when did you know?” the friend asked me, concerned.

“At mile 26,” I responded.

You read that right. I didn’t know until mile 26.

Sometimes, you doubt yourself all the way to the end.

This year’s Oakland Half Marathon was exactly that way. I didn’t know until 13.1. And even then, when I was this:::close to the finish line, and still not quite there.

I didn’t really know until 13.3. The moment I crossed the finish line and turned off my Garmin, I knew.

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No matter what my official time was, I had a PR. I wanted, so badly, for it to be in the 2:20 range. But I had it. Without question. There was nothing, even running .2 out of my way (damn tangents), that could have stopped it. I had it.

If you would have told me 2:21:04 seconds before that I would have the race of my life, I would have called your bluff. I spent most of Saturday trying to figure out how not to get to the start line. I just didn’t feel like running. I didn’t feel like pushing myself.

But Oakland, as it has for several years, has a way of bringing out the best in me.

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Let’s rewind to 2005.

I was a fresh college graduate. Living on my own for the first time. New place. New roommate. Uncharted territory. And I chose Oakland to live economic and personal reasons. The rent was inexpensive. I always knew my roommate. My husband’s brother’s girlfriend at the time had an extra room. She was kind enough to rent it out to me for two years, though I’m pretty sure she was tired of me by the end.

In Oakland, I learned to be a better reporter. I learned more about journalism academically in my two years at UC Berkeley’s Graduate School of Journalism than I did in three years a communication major in college. More importantly, I learned how to finish a story.

People ask me all the time why I went to graduate school, especially since I already had a nice padding of experience right out of college. I went because I would get halfway through a long project and not know how to finish the story. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I couldn’t get to the point where the words flowed. It was my “wall” at mile 20.

Berkeley helped me finish my story. Oakland helped me define the characters in it.

So I chose Oakland, in 2011, to be my first half marathon. Because it was familiar. Because I’d run those streets before. And, because, I wanted to give back to a place that had given so much to be. Races like this bring in a ton of money into communities. I wanted my money to go to Oakland.

My first half marathon was an amazing experience that ended in a 2:35:36 finish. My next Oakland experience had me finishing in 2:32: 27.

This year, the experience wasn’t even comparable. I thought I’d run races before where I left every single bit of me out on the course. On Sunday, I realized I was, again, in uncharted territory.

I came into Oakland this year unable to finish my story. Over the past few months, I’ve struggled with gaining perspective about everything that’s happened since January. I’ll start with this: I’m glad it all happened. If it didn’t, I wouldn’t where I am today. I’m better for it.

So on Sunday, even though I didn’t realize it, I came to run. And that’s what I did.

Mile 1: 9:24 — Are you kidding me? That’s faster than I run. I feel so comfortable. This can’t be right. It must be the Gu I took right before the start.

Mile 2: 9:57 — OK, better legs. I don’t want to be done before I’m actually done.

Mile 3: 11:25 — WHY IS MY SHOE UNTIED? MY SHOES ARE NEVER UNTIED! Pull over, tie shoe, start running again. When the Garmin beeps, I consider it the “beginning of the end.” Well, I had two good miles in me, I figured. It’s over.

Mile 4: 10:06 — Or not? Better take a Gu.

Mile 5: 10:56 — Battling some uphills here, over the Lake Merritt crossing, it gets a little congested. Weaving in and out of people.

Mile 6: 10:24 — Feeling the Gu. Picking it up.

Mile 7: 11:18 — That moment when you ram into someone because they stop right in front of you? That happened. I’m not two for two in running into people in half marathons. It wasn’t my fault, though. She stopped at a water station and just came to a dead halt.

In this mile, a guy also ran by me and whacked right into my arm. Seriously? That hurt. I let out a sound similar to a baby velociraptor in pain. The guy stopped dead in his stride. He actually turned around, came back and started talking to me.

“Are you OK? Did I hurt you bad?”

“I’m fine, dude. I just have a broken arm. You didn’t do it. I came that way.”

The concern on his face was amazing. He actually hung close to me for two miles. He told me he was afraid I’d pass out. I don’t know what I looked like, but apparently it was bad.

Mile 8: 10:55 — Only now was I getting tired. I took a Gu.

Mile 9: 11: 40 — The climb into the park around Lake Merritt is here. After nine miles, I really felt it.

Mile 10: 10:16 — This was  the point I looked down at my Garmin and realize I was coming in pretty early.

Mile 11: 10:53 — I started mile 11 under the two hour mark. I couldn’t believe I started mile 11 under the two hour mark. This is where everything comes into play in terms of questions. I can definitely beat last year’s time. I can beat my Pasadena time. What do I have to do to beat my PR? Too much math. I can’t think. Just keep it under 12-minute miles, I thought.

That should be good enough. Right? Follow the plan.

Mile 12: 10:42 — Follow the plan. Just follow the plan.

Mile 13: 10:31 — RUN. FAST. NOW. GIVE IT ALL YOU HAVE. DAMN IT. RUN. DIE LATER. JUST RUN.

Mile 13.1: Where’s the finish?

Mile 13.2: I should be done by now. Why am I not done? What the hell?

Mile 13.3: UP THE HILL. RUN. RUN!

Total time for that .3 miles: 2.47

I saw my Garmin move past the 2:20 mark before I crossed. I closed my eyes and just gunned it. The full inertia I had behind me didn’t stop until I was nearing the medals. And then I knew. I fell a little bit, and had a moment of joy I haven’t experienced in a long time.

I had my story’s end.

Six months. Multiple bad situations. Turmoil. A lot of self reflection.

No regrets.  A healthy body. My husband at the finish line. A PR.

I gave the Oakland the race it had deserved for three years. I finally did it. I came away stronger than I ever thought I was.

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As I sat on the lawn, taking it all in, I had a moment where I started tearing up. All the self-doubt started to fade for the first time since last October. Suddenly I felt as if I was back in control. On Sunday, I really did have the race of my life. I felt like somewhere in those 13.1 miles, I shed every ounce of upset and took myself back.

Two years ago, Oakland made me realize I could do anything when I finished my first half. Last year, I struggled with every step because I was mentally and emotionally spent. This year, Oakland gave me back something I didn’t even realize was still gone.

All of these things came rushing to me before my husband found me. I let myself cry. I deserved a good happy cry.

But before I got up, I decided to check my official time, even though I knew it wouldn’t be that far off.

I’ve mentioned in previous race posts that I always start my Garmin a little ahead of crossing the start, just to make sure it works. When I loaded up the page with my name, I realized that elusive 2:20, which I didn’t even realize was a goal for me, had been achieved.

My official time: 2:20:52.

That elation? The bliss? It all was just that much better.

I then realized that while this may be the picture-perfect end to one story, is now just the beginning of the next. What’s my next goal? How I can break it? Can earn a 2:15? Those are questions I didn’t think possible before all this stuff happened to me. Now? It seems doable. It seems realistic.

For me there was no better place to finish this story, and start a new one, than in Oakland.

Mar 27

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Why you really need no reasons to do a mud run

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I’m a little behind in posts. The life of a blogger? You end up having four of five posts in queue, needing more polishing and not quite ready to launch. I need to write my race report on the Oakland Half Marathon and do some other things, but today I’m going to write about something I highly recommend every person does at least once.

A mud run.

Yes. I think you should do a mud run.

Why? Seriously? Why not? Why wouldn’t you want get yucky and dirty? Why wouldn’t you want to jump through hoops (literally in some cases) and down water slides and tramp through gross mud knee deep?

See. It sounds amazing. Right?

If you live in Northern California, around my neck of the woods, you’re in luck. Dell’Osso Family Farm is hosting a mud run on April 6. Registration ends early next week. And it’s the perfect opportunity to get a full-body workout on a Saturday!

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Plus, I have a coupon code for those wanting to register!

The run goes down beginning at 8 a.m. on April 6 with waves starting every twenty minutes through 1 p.m. The mud run includes 30 obstacles! Yes, 30!

And if you know anything about Dell’Osso Family Farm, you know that it’s always a fun time out in Lathrop, right off merge of interstates 205 and 5 near the end of San Joaquin County. In my former life as a journalist, I often wrote stories about the Dell’Ossos. A few years ago Susan and Ron Dell’Osso expanded the farm’s offerings to include a holiday aspect, with a snow-tube mountain.

Needless to say, I’ve been out there quite a bit. So when the marketing manager asked me if I wanted to offer my running group (the Mountain House Running Club) a couple code, I jumped at the chance. I also asked if I could offer it to my blog readers.

So why should you participate?

It’s pretty obvious.

YOU’LL HAVE A TON OF FUN

This seems like an obvious. But really, it is A LOT of fun. You start out completely clean as you run into the first obstacle is an uphill run around the snow-tube mountain. If you’re a reasonably fast runner, you’ll soon be jetting down the hill and into a crazy mud pit. I mean serious mud. There’s no avoiding being completely drenched in it. Don’t even try.

The moment you hit the mud, you’ll realize that it’s not all that bad. But you’ll also realize that you have a lot more obstacles in front of you. Like? Oh, some tires to run through, hay bales to cross, etc. It just keeps getting more and more crazy.

IT’S A BREAK FROM THE TYPICAL 5K

For those serious runners out there, a smaller-style mud run isn’t exactly on the top of the sign-up list. Why? Mud runs take longer. You often get behind a slower crowd. Sometimes you have to wait for an obstacle.

You’re probably thinking: Why would I want to do that?

Mud runs are about taking in the moment. They’re also about doing something completely different. When I first did a mud run at Dell’Osso Family Farm in 2012 it took me 54:18. That’s not exactly PR material. But this isn’t a PR course. This course is about hanging out and getting dirty. It’s also an adventure.

Most people don’t even do trail runs, so a mud run can be the only exposure to running on trails, dirt, etc. Basically a runner’s only exposure to getting dirty if you prefer road races over the other side of the great outdoors.

THIS ONE IS FOR A GOOD CAUSE

I register and run quite a few races throughout the year. I’m always more inclined to do so if the run sponsor is giving money to a local charity. Most of the smaller runs in my area do this.

The Dell’Ossos are huge community contributors in the first place. Each year, volunteers from the community come and work shifts at the corn maze. In return, Dell’Osso Family Farm contributes money back to those organizations. As of last October, before the pumpkin maze opened, the farm pumped close to $1 million back into the community in it’s 15-year run by giving back to those organizations.

The money is likely more, considering how many people are brought into Lathrop for visit to the farm.

It’s fitting, then, that this specific mud run is benefiting the American Cancer Society and other local charities. It’s a win-win: You get to run, get dirty and have a good time. Local charities benefit.

IT’S A COURSE THAT CHALLENGES RUNNERS

I mentioned the 30 obstacles. Those include a lot of variety. It’s not all mud pits. The photo above is the tire area, courtesy of the Dell’Osso Family Farm Facebook page.

You’ll have to run through tires, over bridges, jump over hurdles (those got me last time),  make your way over a tire pyramid and cross over muddy ditches, among other things.

Check out a full map of the course here.

SWAG? PARTY? GOOD TIMES TO BE HAD?

The registration package includes a the standard T-shirt. You also get a medal (for a 5K!), a ticket for a free beer at the Fleet Feet Beer Garden (sponsored by my favorite local running store) and free parking. There will be a ton of stuff to do out at the farm post race. Plus, you can bring a picnic lunch and set up to each after you take on the course.

You’ll likely be done in less than an hour. Some people will be done sooner. So you can easily make a day out of it. (We’re all adults, so be sure to designate a driver if you are drinking. It should go without saying, but some people need the reminder.)

STILL NOT CONVINCED? THINK IT WILL BE TOO HARD?

Then check out my review of the first mud run ever hosted at Dell’Osso. You can also find a post on what exactly I wore that day, even though it didn’t quite work out.

Think it’s too challenging? It’s not. I’ve had issues with my upper body strength in recent years, basically my lack thereof, but I was able to get through it fine. I was also completely comfortable about running the Big Sur 21-miler the weekend after with no problems. The majority of the people I saw out in the field were older than me. In my wave there was a group of women celebrating a friend’s 40th birthday. They wore tutus. And tiaras. I’m not sure how that worked out for them because I know by the end I was barely hanging onto my bib number. My beer coupon was long gone by then.

And I looked pretty messy.

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SO … WHAT SHOULD I WEAR?

That’s a tough question, but here are a couple suggestions.

  • Nothing with pockets, according to Susan Dell’Osso. Imagine all the mud getting into your pockets and dragging you down? Not pretty.
  • Dark clothing: If only so you don’t have to work as hard getting the stains out.
  • Speaking of clothing: Make sure you wear something you aren’t necessarily attached to, since you may not be able to wear it again.
  • Old shoes: Use Duct tape if you’re afraid they’ll fall off. If you don’t use Duct Tape, make sure you tie your shoes tightly. I saw at least two people lose their shoes during the process of the run.
  • Sunscreen: Even though you’ll be covered in mud, you can still get sunburned. I learned that the hard way.
  • Few accessories: Don’t bring your phone with you. Or a camera. Don’t bring anything you wouldn’t be OK having ruined, really. I walked around in a daze for nearly 30 minutes before I found my husband. It was worth it to not mangle my then new iPhone 4S.

SO YOU MENTIONED A COUPON CODE?

Definitely. Unfortunately I won’t be able to participate in the April 6 mud run because I’ll be heading to San Luis Obispo to run a marathon the next day.

Plus, I’m barely getting back to exercising my still broken, but healing, left T-rex arm. So there’s no way I’ll be able to join in on the fun this year. It’s a bummer, because I wasn’t able to participate last September either since my students had a journalism conference in Sacramento all day that day.

Want to sign up? Want $10 off?

Use this code: 1MTHRC13

And be sure to sign up by April 2, when registration ends.

Happy mud running!

(Disclaimer: I was provided a coupon code for my running club and asked if I could share it with my blog readers. Dell’Osso Family Farm did not pay me or influence this blog post in any way. I’m just happy to share my experience with my readers.)

Mar 24

When Oakland actually became my ‘A’ race

oaklandmedal

When I decompressed from running a ridiculously soggy California International Marathon last December, I realized two things:

  1. I was overcoming the anxiety that had paralyzed me and all but taken away my voice and confidence
  2. I was gunning for the Oakland Half Marathon to be my “A” race

Two very different realizations, yes.

But running CIM a second time, during one of the worst periods of my life, made me think that if a marathon could make me overcome something so seriously wrong with me, maybe gunning for a new “A” race would continue to promote that healthy perspective. It matters, though, that Oakland was my first-ever half marathon in 2011. CIM was my first marathon the same year.

I have sentimental attachments to both.

And after emergency gallbladder surgery, a broken arm and an incredibly messed up training cycle, today, Oakland actually became my “A” race.

I’m not afraid to admit, there were some tears. There were also exasperated sighs. The moment after I finished, all I wanted to do was collapse into a ball and scream. I can’t relate the feeling any other way. It wasn’t anxiety, though this is the biggest race I’ve done since crap went down last October. (Confession: I had my first panic attack since last October this week. It wasn’t as traumatic as that one, but it took me right back to THAT day. And it kind of ruined my week and made me feel fragile again. The trigger was a very similar, hopeless situation like what happened to me last fall.)

Today, I felt pure bliss. I haven’t felt that in more than a year. My heart sang and danced. I felt more free than I ever have before.

That bliss came in an official time of 2:20:52. Nearly a two-minute better than my August PR time.

My husband called it, as if he knew I had it in me. Though he was a couple minutes off.

“I should expect you around 2:18, right,” he said as we circled Lake Merritt to go to the start.

I laughed.

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’ll be that fast,” I responded.

He wasn’t far off.

Last night, I was considering not even going to this race. I was throwing in the towel before I even started. The panic attack did that too me. It, again, made me doubt everything I knew. It paralyzed me with fear. I even offered my very-tired husband, who has worked six days a week at his engineering job since last fall for a rebuild project, an out. I told him we didn’t have to go. Fine by me. He could sleep.

I’m thankful he’s a man smart enough to know I was looking for an out. He wasn’t giving me one.

I also knew that on my list of consistent things that pulled me out of the darkness last year, running was at the top. With each run, the confidence came back.

Two years ago, this half marathon made me feel like I could do anything the moment I finished. Last year, I suffered through physical and emotional pain, doubting myself every step.

Today, it made me fearless.

I feel like I’ve been cheesy on a lot of my posts lately, but I can’t help but feel liberated these past couple months. Something in me has changed. And it’s not just the gallbladder being gone.

It means today I gave Oakland the race it deserved. More than anything else, those streets defined who I became as a person during my two years of graduate school at UC Berkeley. I became “me” in Oakland, away from my family, my now husband and my life before that point. That race deserved a better performance than I had given in previous years.

More importantly, I gave myself the race I always knew I had in me.

I hang my PR medal right in front of my computer in my home office. It’s to remind me of what I can accomplish. Right now it’s also reminding me of how far I’ve come.

And that PRs are made so that we can break them.

Mar 22

Finishers shirt by mail

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Here’s something I’m not used to: Getting a finishers shirt in the mail. But I found this beauty shoved in my incredibly small, unforgiving mailbox on Thursday.

It’s a pretty nice shirt too. It’s a long-sleeved Dri-Fit. It’s not one of the cotton Dri-Fit shirts I normally wear when running (which I rotate out with my Lululemon shirts), which I’m kind of relieved about. This one picks up the sweat really nicely (yes, I’ve already worn it on a run).

I have to admit, though, I was a little confused when I got it. I didn’t realize it had a place for me to write something on it.

I’ve only seen a few photos of it online so far, though, for inspiration of what to write on it.

Some people write where they ran. I think if I put “We Run Tracy” people might think that’s my name. So I was considering something that was on one of my other shirts. Maybe I could go with something like “We Run Empowered” or something?

The problem then is that I have to write it.

I once won a third-grade penmanship award for my very straight handwriting. If you see my handwriting now, you likely wouldn’t believe that was ever the case. My cursive is much, much worse.

I know part of it has everything to do with a formally strained tendon that hasn’t been the same since I injured it shooting video a couple years ago. So when I sign my signature, it doesn’t really look like the pre-injury signature. Plus I can’t sign my husband’s last name well. I guess that’s the difference between 24 years of practice and five years of practice.

So I’m likely going to never write something on this shirt and have that awkward white area just sitting there waiting for something.

On the plus side, it’s a nice shirt. It’s looser than I’d like at the bottom, but fits snugly at the top.

Plus, it has a pretty nice design on the back too.

nikeshirt2

It, obviously, looks like many of the other Nike shirts I had already in my running-clothes collection.

My friend Jennie made a comment about long-sleeved shirts the other day, mentioning that so few races these days give that option. San Francisco has for the last two years, though I know before that they had short-sleeve shirts. California International Marathon gives both options if you sign up early enough. I always pick the long-sleeve version.

The Oakland Half Marathon is one of the few races that does as well. And that’s what I’ll be doing this weekend.

I’m heading over tomorrow to pick up my race packet. I have a really, really low number this year, something in the 2,000 area, which I was surprised about. I’m planning on getting in and getting out quickly, unless I have a friend accompany me. My husband is supposed to work (or so I think, he told me earlier he switched his day off to Saturday, and then I reminded him that we’d only had a conversation about 10 times about Oakland being this weekend).

Oakland was supposed to be my “A” race this season. But with everything else happening (gallbladder removal, fractured arm, blah, blah, blah), I’m just going to happy to get going and finish. Plus, there’s this marathon in less than two weeks I’m really scared about at this point.

Crossing my fingers for a good race.

Feb 9

This week

If I ever thought I’d have more time to myself after trading full-time employment for freelancing and a part-time job, I was crazy. This week has proved that I will likely not have any more free time, especially during my student’s production weeks.

My newspaper staff has nearly double this semester. I’m having to create spreadsheets and sign ups for lab and one-on-ones. It’s amazing and a little overwhelming. We held three stories this issue because we sold out on ads weeks before. Sold out. On ads. As in, we can’t take anymore because we have too much content.

That’s a great problem for a college newspaper. That’s a great problem for any newspaper.

So between freelancing and my students this week, I probably worked 50 hours. Meaning little time for running.

Here’s a look at what I’ve been doing:

SUNDAY

thisweek5

Mega Super Bowl party day. With lots of food.

I’m not a fan of any specific football team. I appreciate a good game for a good game. So I was kind of bored the first half. But then, when it got interesting, I was invested. I love games that go down to the wire.

But really, I go to the party for the food.

thisweek4

Oh hey pansit, where is your homeboy adobo? Oh, right next to you? Don’t mind if I do?

Wait… what’s that?

thisweek3

Pulled pork! This photo doesn’t do it justice. My friend’s husband is a culinary genius with the pulled pork. But really, the potato salad up top was the amazing part. I didn’t know she made such a great potato salad. (I’m a bit of a potato salad aficionado, really.) I took home a ton of it too. And ate it for two days. I’m not even going to lie.

And I bet your Super Bowl party didn’t feature animals.

thisweek2

Our friends live in the country. Sorry about the blur, Joleen the goat didn’t like the paparazzi.

WEDNESDAY

thisweek7

We were still thinking of names for this little pup. Last night, we finally agreed on one: Cassiopeia.

We’re calling her Cassie for short. And her name fits our theme. We name our dogs after songs. Our oldest female is Sky Midnight Blue after Peter Gabriel’s Sky Blue. Our male is Hey Beau Diddley after the song Hey Bo Diddley.

Cassiopeia’s full name will be Winter Star Cassiopeia. If you love Third Eye Blind as much as I do, you know the line comes from the original version of Campfire, a song that made it to Ursa Major with a lot of tweaking. It was retitled Bonfire.

It’s appropriate, for many reasons.

These lines:

And there’s all these winter stars still flying

Cassiopeia

Everything’s changing now

And:

Into one thousand pieces

I had broke into over you

Nightshade will soon be gone

But I keep burning on and on and on

I’m a bigger fan of 3EB’s less popular tracks than the band’s big hits, including God of Wine. But this song seems appropriate as nearly everything in my life is changing now. And I really feel a connection to the “burning on and on and on” line right now. And lately? Into a thousand pieces I broke into over journalism. Very fitting.

I’m not sure what it says about me that my love for a band transcends all the years it’s been out of the mainstream. I’ve seen them three times in concert, most recently at a day-long music festival where I swear I was the only one singing every word to every song. The song I most wanted to hear that night? Campfire.

We toyed with Page, for Mumford and Son’s White Blank Page. I also offered up Storm for Mumford’s After the Storm.

I think my husband agreed on Cassiopeia because he didn’t want me to name any of our future children that. No kidding.

THURSDAY

I spent my morning clearing pages for my student’s first issue of the semester.

thisweek1

It included a spread, the first ever since I’ve been adviser, on gun control. The stories were well reported. The editors did a fine job on this. It looks even better in person. I’m really proud of the work they did on this issue.

But Tuesday, it’s on to the next one. Always on to the next one.

FRIDAY

I had my worker’s compensation evaluation that I’d been dreading for months in the morning. I took my mom. I think if I hadn’t, I would have fallen into all those pieces all over again. She, at least, made me feel more comfortable as my heart sped up and I was forced to remember everything that led me to where I am right now.

The appointment lasted so long that my mom went with me to a dress fitting for my December bridesmaid duties.

thisweek6

This was the first dress I tried on. They were all cute, but I think the bride now knows which one we’ll all be purchasing pretty soon here. On the list of things I didn’t know: Bridesmaid dresses take 10-12 weeks to get.

I knew wedding dresses took a long time, but wow.

Confession: I bought my wedding dresses at a bridal discount store in Roseville. To be fair, my sister bought it for me. I didn’t have a credit card that would charge the $500, so my mom put it on hers and my sister paid her back.

My whole wedding was planned on a similar modus operandi. It cost $15,000 at the end, but was paid for over three years of engagement. To be fair, I was only 24. All my savings were pumped into my wedding. I came out of it with a husband and no money left in a savings account that one had $8,000.

Would I do it differently now? Definitely. I’d go to Las Vegas. Just saying.

My husband, though, a couple months ago said our wedding day was one of the best of his life. That makes it all worth it, since he’s not a man of many sweet words.

This is the first time I’ve ever been a bridesmaid, so I’m learning a ton of stuff. (Jenn, if you are reading this, I promise not to mess this up.) Yesterday, the woman at the bridal store mentioned fabric swatches and making sure dye colors matched. I’m like: “Whoa, slow down.” And I know the decisions are even harder for the bride.

Planning a wedding is hard business. I’m extremely fortunate that my bride friend is a really down-to-earth woman with a great sense of humor and a love for life. She doesn’t even mind me sending her a ton of photos of me with awkward faces in dresses (Some of the colors were crazy!).

I treated my mom to lunch after at a sandwich place I love. So a not-so-great day actually turned out better. When I got home another friend came over and ate pizza and junk food with me.

TODAY

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After weeks of feeling as if my legs were going to fall off, I realized I should maybe switch out my shoes, especially with a half marathon next weekend.

I’ve had this pair of LunarEclipes in my closet for about four months. I bought them on deep sale for about $80, marked down from $140.

I ran five miles this morning in them.

And you know what? I needed new shoes.

I had little pain. My feet felt more supported. It was like running on cushions.

Anyone who tells you that you can run 400+ miles in a pair of shoes is an idiot. Seriously. I ran 600+ on my oldest pair of shoes. They sit next to the treadmill. Now I know they are only good for walking and housework. I should have known.

But I’m been trying to preserve my shoes for a bit longer and longer each time, if just to keep down the costs.

In January, Nike launched the LunarEclipse +3. It’s the same shoe, with new upper design. Now the +2’s are on sale for $79.16 at Road Runner Sports. I’m considering buying two pairs, which should get me through the year before I have to buy the more expensive +3s.

The best part of all of this is that I’m excited for my 10-mile run tomorrow morning. I haven’t said that in awhile. At five miles, I wanted to keep going, but I didn’t.

I’ve been avoiding the treadmill all week (I did run six outside this week), because of the pain my legs have been in.

So, if anything, take away this tidbit for the week: If you’re in pain, it’s likely your shoes. Change the shoes.

Dec 10

Frustrated and fortunate

I woke up this morning annoyed for many reasons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because I am also very fortunate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m actually learning to enjoy it.

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

But I’m damn fortunate too.

Oct 6

2 Comments

Becoming anti-expo

This morning, my husband and I ventured to San Jose about 60-miles away to pick up my race packet for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon. I’m usually pretty accepting of picking up my bib number and race shirt far away, then returning home, but today I was annoyed for several reasons.

The first is that gas is ridiculously priced right now. The second is that I felt completely underwhelmed by the experience. So this isn’t an expo review. Not at all. This is a post about how I’ve increasingly become against expos in recent months.

The Rock ‘n’ Roll expos aren’t the entire reason. Competitor actually does a good job of moving people through the lines and then corraling them into an area where you can purchase more race stuff. And then you walk around and looked at all things running related.

Except I didn’t want to stay.

We only had an hour on the meter anyway. I had already made a corral change. I had my bib and my shirt. I had my “swag” bag that wasn’t full of all that much swag. We walked around for about 20 minutes and I looked at my husband and said I was done.

“I’m over it,” I said.

And with that we walked back to the car and drove five miles to the nearest Lululemon. I’m not even joking.

I was disappointed for several reasons, all of which have been hallmarks of many expos I’ve been to lately.

The first was the location. In San Jose, the expo was at the local convention center, right near/in the middle of the downtown area. Not bad. But the building was torn up last year when I went to this expo. And then torn up again this year. We had to walk much further than we wanted to. Petty complaint? Yes.

But consider we’re in a metropolitan location and working against a meter and you’ll realize our dilemma.

The next was organization and a tad bit of misinformation provided at check in.

Check in was easy enough, but see that line at the end. That was the line for my initial corral. Above each of those signs was another sign that said
“corral changes.” So I asked a guy if we made corral changes at the desks. Seems simple enough, right?

He said: “Do you know how this works?”

Then he proceeded to tell me where I needed to go to pick up my bib. I already knew that. I was asking a separate question. He wasn’t listening, or didn’t want to. I know this happens. But I’ve noticed a lot more lately that volunteers aren’t exactly helpful at expos. Often they have no idea how to answer a question.

It’s because they’re volunteers. It’s because they have very little training before being sent out to do their jobs for the day. In many cases I’ve seen teenagers leading people the wrong way at expos. They’re probably working for community service credit, but still.

Again, working against a clock here.

The T-shirt pick up was a breeze, as was the “goodie” bag grab.

Except all these races that promise “goodie” bags have one sample and then a bunch of pieces of paper. The Rock ‘n’ Roll series is notorious for that. Other races (the Oakland Marathon and San Francisco Marathons included) have online options for this. I’m always appreciative of that, even though it likely requires more work.

Why? Because all but one of those papers from the expo I went to this morning went into the recycling bin when I came home.

I think next time I’ll bring my own bag and skip the reusable backpack.

Another peeve is that there are very few deals to be found at expos anymore. Only a year ago, you’d see signs for compression sleeves marked down to $25 from $40 or $5 off on purchases at another booth. I rarely see that these days. I didn’t see that at all today, outside of Competitor offering discounts on signing up for next year’s event.

The size of the event was also smaller, likely due to the ongoing construction, so there wasn’t as much to see.

I’m jaded, I think. I have all my “racing essentials” already. I don’t need last-minute compression socks, or a sports bra, etc. I have running gloves that are packed in my gym bag every day. I have Glide. And sunscreen. I have, basically, all my goods with me. I’ve never purchased shoes at an expo. And I’m saving my money for the Nike Women’s Half Marathon next week.

So we made quick work of it. For a 120-mile round-trip drive, with gas pushing the $5 range, it just wasn’t worth it.

Even if I got to walk past the finish line, where I’ll be, all things going fine, will cross the finish line and receive a pretty blingy little medal tomorrow morning.

But instead of spending any money at the expo, we went and shopped elsewhere.

Race organizers often promise cities when they book events that the runners will bring money in and stimulate the economy. I don’t have qualms with that. I think most races are money boons to cities. But I hate being forced to traverse miles and miles, only to have to come back the next morning.

We decided to venture to Lululemon and stimulate the economy there instead of at the expo, which kind of fails in the purpose of the expo too. It was there I picked up a pair of capris I’ve been eying and new ear guard for colder weather. And then we made out way back to Tracy, via a stop for lunch in Livermore.

The one good thing today? The race T-shirt.

This year, organizers switched to gender-specific shirts. I have last year’s shirt from the same race underneath. It’s a unisex medium. The gender-specific one is a women’s large, big difference.

GETTING TO THE POINT

This post seems rambling. I’m sorry for that, but there’s a lot on my mind as I write it (including what I’ll be making for dinner tonight). But I have a point.

Many races have strict “no race day” pickup policies to avoid confusion and disarray on race mornings. I’m totally fine with that. What annoys me is when I’m forced to drive long distances to spend 20-minutes at an expo and pick up a race packet when there’s very little to offer me otherwise.

So, as much as I try to make a day out of it and add on some extras to make it “worth the drive,” it usually isn’t. The one exception to this is when I head to San Francisco for a race there, because I can often spend the entire day finding things to do.

Moreover, expos don’t offer all that much to entice a more seasoned runner. (Yes, I’m calling myself a more seasoned runner.) For newbies and people still building a base stock on supplies, expos are great.

But most the time, expos offer very little in the way of useful items. This is the case for many of the expos I’ve been to in recent months. I just want to be out and done.

Jaded? Yes, definitely.

But I’m also saving a lot of money by not dropping money on every little thing at an expo.

I’d just like them to be more worth my time and not just a destination to pick up a race bib.

ON ANOTHER NOTE

I have a goal for tomorrow’s race, but I don’t want to write it or say it because I think that makes it too real. This race held my PR for nearly a year. It was one of my last good races before I hit a really bad slump at the beginning of the year.

So I have a goal. But I never know until I’m actually running if I’ll make that goal, or if I’m trained enough. There are lots of variables. I’m definitely leaning on my time for this being faster than my projected time for the Nike Women’s Half Marathon.

I don’t want to have too high of expectations, because I’ll be disappointed if I don’t make my first goal, or even second or third goals. But I’m anxious to try.

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