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Bowing out before the run

This is as far as my tutu and running gear got on Saturday. It’s where it all continues to sit today. Needless to say, if my tutu, race belt and water bottle didn’t make it out the door, neither did I.

Instead, I went back to sleep after realizing, nearly at the last minute when my friend was on the way to pick me up, that I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go run on Saturday. I didn’t want to. The thought of doing so paralyzed me with fear.

Thanks anxiety. I appreciate it.

Or not. I actually hate your face. If you had a face, I mean. Than I’d hate it.

I won’t get started on “how it all went down” rather I’ll say this: It’s been about three months since my last panic attack. This one was minor in severity to the first one (otherwise known as the “big one” or “the incident”) last October. It wasn’t as quick as the one three months ago either.

Suffice it to say, my morning wasn’t fun. I woke up with a huge knot in my stomach that just wouldn’t go away. And it didn’t until I fell back asleep after my husband handed me some tissue and sent out the obligatory “Tara isn’t coming” text message.

Life. Sucks. Sometimes.

The good news is that people tell me it gets better. The better news is that this is the first time in three months I’ve even had something like this happen. That’s a win. Even if I didn’t feel that way yesterday, it truly is.

Saturday marked the first day anxiety has broken into my running in such a way. My last race was the San Francisco Marathon. And while I had moments of “why am I doing this?” and “I cannot do this today” I made it to the start line. To the midway point. And to the finish.

It was easy to diagnose the “trigger” for Saturday, which had nothing to do with running at all. I know it had nothing to go with running because I was able to hop on the treadmill later in the evening and run eight miles, no problem.

But I was smart to know my limit, to not push myself when uncomfortable. My husband kept trying to persuade me, to push me out the door with my friends, to tell me everything would be OK. I think deep down, though, he knew it was a lost battle from the moment I started to breathe heavy. He did what he could.

And I did what I knew had to be done: I laid myself back down. I bowed out before the run.

I knew the damaged I would do if I kept going. I knew what would happen if I got out the door and on the road, or even to the race. I knew it would be all bad. I knew once I lost my composure, I wouldn’t be able to get it back.

Part of learning to live with anxiety, and specifically without anxiety medication, is that I have to be the one to pull back for myself. I have to set my limits. I did that on Saturday, which meant there was no 5K. I want to be disappointed about missing what looked like a good time, but I’ve run too many races lately (and many since October) to know that I never felt this way before one.

Something was different. Something was wrong.

I listened to that gut instinct which I didn’t listen to last October, which led to that “more damage” down the road. Because my hope is that if it’s been three months since my last panic attack this time, it will be six months in between the next … or maybe they’ll stop all together.

I can cross my fingers and hope. But I can also recognize the signs early enough to stop it from happening all together, lean back, relax, breathe deep and remove myself from a situation, temporarily, before it gets too bad. Even if it means giving up a fun run.

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Jumping on the color-covered bandwagon

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More than a year ago, I swore off the 5K distance. It’s not that I don’t have a love for 3.1 miles. I ran a lot of 5Ks in my training to run my first 10K in 2010. I nursed those 5Ks to that 10K finish, believe me. But I realized midday through 2012 there was no way I could run a fast 5K if all my training planes literally had my legs coming alive at mile five.

That’s part of the reason I have a love/hate relationship with the 10K. It’s actually more of a hate/hate relationship. I only run trail 10Ks now. Those are the only ones I feel “worth my time and effort.”

I sound like a pretentious runner. I’m really not. I just kind of gave up on the 5K and 10K being “my distance.”

And we all have a distance we claim as our own. For me, it’s the half marathon. Two years ago I never thought I’d say that. But in the past seven months, I’ve learned to master the 13.1 and make it my own.

So when my running buddies asked me to do a “color run” with them, I initially said no. Color runs are the new mud runs, you know. Everybody is doing them. But not me. No thanks.

I think my resistance lasted for about four weeks before my friend Sam sent me a Groupon deal for the July 6 “Run or Dye” event in San Francisco. It was at a really low price, one that might make me budge. Finally, I did. I actually opted to do a 5K color run over a six-hour endurance run. At least I’ll be done quickly, I told myself.

I’m not even sure what I’m getting myself into.

I’ve heard a mix of good and bad going into these runs. This one is untimed. I’m not even taking my Garmin. I am, however, taking an accessory that doesn’t usually make it into my running ensemble.

Yes. A tutu has been made.

It’s fitting that my June issue of Runner’s World magazine has a runner on the front getting splashed with corn starch-colors on all sides. It lists color-themed runs with zombie runs, foam runs and neon-light runs as a way to “have fun” for a 5K.

After months of serious racing (two marathons in a three-month period and a bunch of other distance races), I’m kind of looking forward to finding my fun again in a less serious run.

So I’ll be heading out Saturday morning with my running buddies and their children to San Francisco.

I had to buy a white shirt. Because I apparently don’t own any I can thrash. Though I’m told that the colors all wash off.

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I kind of find it ironic that it says “live love color” and “lasting color” on the shirt when I intend to make it very, very colorful. I also found a pair of hot pink tights to wear, though on second thought I’m not sure if I really will.

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I may not be digging the brightness on race morning.

I’ll also grab an older pair of my running shoes. I don’t plan on “running” this race at all. Instead, I plan on kind of slogging (slow+jogging=slogging) through it for fun.

Since this sort of race doesn’t put focus on the time, it will be easy to relax and slow down a little. The last time I didn’t focus on a race time was during a mud run a couple years ago. In that case, I couldn’t. I was stuck behind a line of people in a mud pit for about 20 minutes. My time for the 5K was somewhere around 54 minutes when I finished.

Less serious? Yes. Still difficult? Yes.

This run doesn’t include obstacles, which I’m actually rather thankful for. My core still hasn’t recovered since my January gallbladder removal. (It should be by now, but I’ve been really unmotivated to push myself in that area. I have even less motivation to bring my once-broken arm back to the form it was in, strength wise, when it broke.)

In any case, I’ll get to fulfill my only-recently discovered dream of wearing a tutu while I run. It’s not really a dream. I’ve just never figured it would be practical to do so. I mean, it will likely itch.

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Doesn’t it look so much prettier finished? Maybe not. I think it kind of looks like a 1980s wedding favor. Long live Tulle.

I’m actually kind of nervous about how this is all going to go. I think once you’ve towed the line at a couple marathons, running takes on a different feel. As in: Can I approach a race without that competitive need to beat myself?

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Or can I run a race with friends and not feel naked without my Garmin? Will I feel as if I still have a long way to go after I hit the three-mile mark?

I guess I’m going to find out.

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A no-run holiday

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I woke up too late to get in a decent run (over four miles) today, so I just kind of said no to any distance. Instead, I decided that I’d burn off enough calories helping out with a baking/pie contest and walking around in the heat. It’s only 5:23 p.m. and I’m already exhausted…but we’re having friends over for dinner and fireworks.

I don’t think I’ve ever voluntarily gone for a run on July 4. It’s one of those holidays I tend to skip when it comes to putting on the running shoes and heading out the door.

For one, it’s really, really hot where I live (see photo). It’s also just not one of my “overindulgent” holidays. Not typically, at least. Today, I made a cake and a Smore treat from Pinterest, though. That may change.

I usually got a six to eight mile run for Thanksgiving. For longer holiday weekends, I try to fit my long run in on the actual holiday (which usually gives me my weekend, always nice). I don’t really consider holidays rest days.

Except for July 4.

Maybe it’s because it’s been mid-way through the week over the past couple years. Maybe it’s because I overbook myself.

Either way, there’s no run today. I have 11 miles down for the month already, so I’m fine with that.

Happy Independence Day!

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Overhydrating on a rest day

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The 100-degree temperatures usually don’t keep me down, but today I mandated a rest day for myself. In the past seven days, I’ve run 40 miles. Yesterday, my three-mile run was more painful than it was fun.

I figured, then, it was time for a rest day. So today there was no run, despite my legs feeling better. Instead, I spent all day working and hydrating.

At 11 a.m., I had already gone through two bottles full of water. Since then, I’ve probably taken down six more. Temperatures reached 101 today. We still have multiple more days in the three-digit zone before this heat wave breaks.

The problem, though, is now I’m likely over hydrated. I’ve been craving salt for about three hours now, thinking I was just really dehydrated. So I’ve been hydrating more. And more. And more.

There is a limit in how much water you can drink before it makes you feel a little off. Had I of run today, I likely wouldn’t be feeling as “ugh” as I am right now. Here’s proof that as much as hydration is important, it’s also something to watch as to not overdo it.

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It’s too hot to run outside

I am a treadmill evangelist. I love my treadmill. I don’t care what anyone says about it being boring or monotonous. There have been many times when my treadmill is my only saving running grace.

Today was one of those days. And it’s not because I waited to long to run and didn’t want to venture into the night. Nope.

It’s because my air conditioner kicked on in my house immediately after I woke up.

That means my house was already 85-degrees. At 8 a.m.

I tried to put myself together quick to GET OUT THE DOOR AND RUN BEFORE IT GOT HOTTER. About a half mile from my house, still within my neighborhood, but almost out to my six-mile loop trail, I pulled out the metaphorical white flag.

I surrendered to the heat.

And I went home, into my air conditioned formal living room, grabbed a box fan from my bedroom and turned the small one I keep near my treadmill on and finished my run.

Then I confessed to it on Twitter.

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I’m not sorry. I’ve spent the past two 100+ temperature days hydrating my little butt off and yet my calves cramped up like there was no tomorrow as I ran through my neighborhood. Coming off a massive misuse and mistreatment of my left hip and I wasn’t willing to do anymore damage.

I hopped on the treadmill and ran through nearly two episodes of “Clean House” on Netflix (I love the way Niecy Nash looks at the clutterbugs and says “Take me to your foolishness!”).

Two hours later, I snapped a picture of my yet-to-be-disassembled partial setup.

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Both of those fans were on. And the sun was the opposite direct this morning so the treadmill didn’t get that much heat.

There are multiple heat warnings going out today from municipalities, including my small 80,000-person city of Tracy. Officials took to Twitter today to encourage people to go, of all places, the cool mall. Or the local transit center on the other side of town.

If local officials are encouraging people to seek shelter from the heat, I’m keeping my two-fan, Netflix setup for my shorter run tomorrow. At least inside I don’t have to worry about reapplying sunscreen.

Especially considering this is just the beginning of the heat streak.

Yes. I’m totally good with my treadmill right now.

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Juxtaposing the negatives with the positives

Some days you wake up and just know that it’s not going to be a good one. The day just takes on a certain “air” to it. Today was one of those days, for various reasons.

Today was the first day since I left my full-time newspaper job that I was genuinely frustrated. More frustrated than I can even relay. See that face? That’s what I looked like at 6 a.m. this morning when I realized that a name server propagation that I started the day before still wasn’t showing up for me. The good news is that my boss could see it.

So could the client. But any necessary changes would be completely unseen by me.

Head. Hits. Desk. In. Frustration.

The site turned out to be fine, a beautiful culmination of four-months of work. It was one of those issues, the first in a long time, I had to admit was completely out of my control. I couldn’t make anything happen faster. I did everything correct. It just wasn’t showing up for me. Hence the 6 a.m. wake-up call for me.

And, yes, those are my running clothes. And my husband has a Samuel Adams mirror. My new “schedule” lately has been waking up early, working for about three hours, then heading out for a run before it hit the triple-digit temperatures we’ve been getting in Northern California lately.

As I was trying to navigate through all of that, I also remembered that today was the day I should be checking my email for word from Nike about random-draw entry into the Nike Women’s Half Marathon. A huge group of ladies from my running club signed up, and a man or two. I’ve mentioned before my luck over the past two years.

In 2011, I didn’t get in through random draw. But I got to run as part of a sponsored team. In 2012, my running club group was accepted through random draw.

This year? Not so much.

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As much as I wasn’t surprised and slightly relieved that the $175 race fee wouldn’t be deducted from my American Express, I was really sad for the women in the running club who wanted this to be their first half marathon.

And it’s still kind of a bummer. But it, essentially, solidified my race calendar for the rest of 2013.

But as much as I wanted to rebel against the Nike random draw and say “buy all the Lululemon things instead” (one of my friends did that, apparently, I like that idea), I realized that the positives in my running life and my life in general are completely outweighing the negative.

Sometimes you need to be reminded about things like that. These are the things I’m thankful for right now:

SITE LAUNCHES

A year ago, I felt like I was fighting never-ending battles and getting nowhere. My creativity was hampered. I just felt like I was going nowhere in my profession anymore. There was no growth personally or professionally.

Today marked the fourth (or fifth?) site that I’ve helped launched that I’ve worked on. And this one was MASSIVE. I spent an enormous amount of time on it over the past few months. When a site finally goes live, there’s just a feeling that encompasses both relief, but also great satisfaction that I did something amazing.

I’m thankful that I’m back to growing in my work and learning new things every day.

EATING REAL FOOD

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I didn’t make mention of it here, because I was still a little unsure of making a commitment, but about a month ago, I decided that my husband and I were no longer eating quick-pasta meals, frozen pizzas or anything that came out of a box in our freezer. At least for dinner.

I’ve had some severe stomach issues in the last two months, thanks to my missing gallbladder (which I still, for the record, don’t miss). I’ve had to trim down even more from what I was eating even two months ago. My body is rebelling.

Since I’ve cut out a lot of processed things, that’s stopped. Unfortunately I can’t cut down on ALL processed food. My husband doesn’t support that diet. He should, but he’s a spice-it-up-and-cook-it-to-taste-good-even-if-it’s-not-all-that-healthy guy. That said, I realized in the middle of my site launch last night that I hadn’t yet eaten dinner.

I buckled and went to McDonald’s. I immediately regretted it. And my stomach made me very aware it was not happy. Back to real food.

HIP HEALTH

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Ignore my slightly-dirty running clothes. That’s my ever-offending left hip that’s been giving me problems. On Wednesday, I ran seven miles in the morning. Then I went out to Mountain House and ran three with my running club. I even kept pace with the lead runner.

goodbad1My leg wasn’t screaming at me at all. In fact, it felt nice to get out and run a faster, stronger pace. That was my longest-distance day of the week. I realized that I’m oh-so-close to 100 miles, which I’ve told myself repeatedly isn’t my goal each month.

But with two days left, I’m eight miles away. I’m not feeling bad. I’m running well. And the stupid hip injury may have just been a symptom of pretty significant overuse (someone remind me not to book five races in a two-month period), instead of something more permanent.

I’m keeping my paces mostly slow, but if I can keep going at this rate, I should be able to pick the pace back up in a week or so.

PREVIOUS ACCOMPLISHMENTS

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Most people run Nike for a necklace. I’ve run it the past two years because I wanted to challenge myself. It’s a tough course. It’s a beautiful course. But it’s not the only San Francisco-based run that goes along that route.

In fact, the first half of the San Francisco Marathon covers nearly an identical route, except in the last couple miles.

The necklace is a nice touch. It’s a beautiful gift. But both my Nike Women’s Marathon necklaces aren’t exactly my favorite necklaces ever. I have a roman numeral 26.2 necklace that I love more. I’m more afraid of losing my Nike necklaces than anything. So I don’t wear them often.

I would have been excited if I got in. But the price increase this year kind of turned me off.

But you know what? I’ve run five marathons. In August, I’m running my 20th half marathon.

“I didn’t get in,” I pouted to my husband earlier.

“Boo hoo,” he replied back.

As much as I’d love to get a reprieve entry and, maybe, run it, I’m good with the wait until next year. No running over to the Nike Facebook page and complaining about how unfair it is. No crying. No regrets.

It’s just another race. Two years ago it meant the world to me, because it was the one race I saw myself doing that crazy first-year of running half marathons. I’ve been lucky enough to run it.

I’ve mentioned before how I’ve cut down on races year after year. I think 2014 will include even fewer. I think most people will think it’s for financial reasons, but in reality it’s not. It’s because I’m running better, with not as much stress weighing on me. That’s making embrace running more and really want to put 100-percent into a race. I can’t do that racing twice a month, even if one race is a 10K.

So I’m cutting back. I realized when finishing the San Francisco Marathon that after five marathons, I’m finally understanding 26.2 better. I don’t think 2014 will be the “year of the marathon” like this has turned into the “year of the PR,” but I’m becoming less anxious about the goals I once considered “unattainable.”

Now everything is a little bit more within reach.

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The good news …

… is that my left IT band/thigh/butt is not as cranky as it has been.

I dare say that I think running has actually done it some good. I’m walking up the stairs a little better now too. I’ve run two six-milers in two days. So far, so good. No residual effects. No lingering pain.

Maybe the pain was a knot? Or maybe the two weeks of rest, minus a marathon in between, was just what I needed?

Either way, it’s good to be back to running pain free. Now I just need to workout a training plan for the Half Moon Bay International Marathon. It’s going to come quicker than I realize.

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Introducing ‘Search term Sunday’

I’ll be the first to say I violated some pretty classic video rules here. First, my video is longer than recommended for the Internet. Second, I saw “um” a lot. Third, it’s shot with my iPhone 4s, so it’s not as well color balanced as it could be. The 4s also explains the orientation of the video, which is not widescreen.

Basically I’m aware that this isn’t my best work. That may be the understatement of the year. But on a whim Friday night I decided it was time to bring a feature I’ve been toying with for awhile to life.

Welcome to the first “Search term Sunday” where I talk about topics, some normal, many insane, that bring people to my blog. I would apologize for my general California girl dialect, but the semester I had voice coaching lessons in graduate school probably was a waste for me. I figured I’d never be in front of a camera, only behind it.

I guess I should have paid more attention.

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Tackling the ‘race even marathoners fear’

I was hoping that if I put off my race report, I could report that within days of running one of the toughest marathons in the country, I was back up and running.

The truth is I’m still nursing a very sore left hip. My toes still have blisters. And I only started being able to cross my legs again. I started hurting on the way home. I didn’t stop hurting until sometime on Wednesday.

I haven’t been as sore as I was this week since I ran my first marathon in 2011.

Five days after crossing the finish line, I’m not afraid to admit something I didn’t want to before: I was absolutely petrified to run this race. It sparked every bit of my anxiety. I had nightmares about getting to the start line and not having pants on.

Why? My thigh wasn’t at 100 percent. It wasn’t even at 80 percent. My cranky IT band wouldn’t settle down. And it’s a marathon. My fifth marathon. And, if everyone was right about San Francisco being a tough place to run a marathon, it was going to be a really difficult one.

I even told my husband that I’d be fine if he didn’t wake up, I was going to go back to sleep. If we hadn’t of stopped to take a breather at Treasure Island, where I used the portable toilets, put on sunscreen and got myself generally situated, I think I would have needed to breathe into a bag in my corral.

As it was, my husband dropped me off near the Embarcadero with only about 30 minutes to spare. My corral was literally shut behind me as we were all shifted down to the start. The daybreak revealed two things to me: 1) It was going to be a rare, sunny day in San Francisco. 2) It was going to be a “26.2” or bust kind of experience for me.

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At around 6:30 a.m., we began, passing the finish line to get to the start.

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Mile 1: 10:41 — The flattest part of the race is at the beginning and the end. This was the first time I’d run in more than a week. Yet, my hip had a little nagging pain in it. My whole plan for this race was that if I was truly in a lot of pain, I’d cut out at the half marathon point and call it a day.

Mile 2: 10:31 — Moving into the Marina District and up to the first hill, which is essentially just an up and down. I knew there was no way I could do a graduated run up the hills on this day. So I paced myself, I stopped and walked when I felt as if my leg was really going to suffer.

Mile 3: 11:26 — I started seeing the Golden Gate Bridge about now. I think most runners are really, really excited about this part. I hate saying this, but I’m not a fan on the bridge. There are slippery parts to it, most of which have covers, but it’s also a little isolating being on the bridge. The runners are so low on the span, too, that we often can’t see anything. But the bridge doesn’t come in this mile. It comes later. Gu in this mile.

Mile 4: 10:24 — I felt the Gu really perking me up. I know this is one of my final “flat” miles, so I try to push myself though here.

Mile 5: 10:45 — I nearly forget about my leg here, but when realizing that I need to climb one of the biggest hills in the race, I realize that my thigh is in more pain the beginning. And … if I manage to make it through this marathon, I still have 21 miles to go.

Mile 6: 12:47 — Up the hill and onto the bridge.

Mile 7: 10:45 — This time I actually feel the gradual incline of the bridge, it goes up and goes down.

Mile 8: 11:19 — I’m steadying my pace as we get into Marin County. I’m enjoying the experience on the bridge today, but I also know that I’m not even done with the first half yet. I start to kind of freak out about the whole thing, but I bring myself back down. Gu here again, with a lot of water. It’s sunny on the bridge. And warm. I’m starting to get dehydrated.

Mile 9: 11:08 — The little cups of water are just WAY to little in this race. Off the bridge now and back up a hill.

Mile 10: 11:46 — Another large hill. I slow down and stopped to refill my water bottle. I stopped at the wrong booth, though, and got a chalky-tasting energy drink.

Mile 11: 11:29 — All downhill here. The problem with the downhills in this race were that my leg just wasn’t having it. I felt I was floppy and uncoordinated on the downhills, especially near the end of the marathon.

Mile 12: 12:40 — Running through the neighborhoods toward the park.

Mile 13: 12:33 — The miles into the park are rolling, by the time I hit the park, I’m exhausted. I’m slowing down. I’m considering not finishing the marathon. My leg is starting to throb a little. Thirteen more miles of this? Maybe not so much.

Half marathon: 2:31:03

Mile 14: 10:44 — But I don’t stop. I keep going. The next few miles are a gradual uphill through Golden Gate Park, past the start for the Second Half Marathon, which was already underway.

Mile 15: 11:55 — I’m late in the marathon group, so there’s only marathoners for the first couple miles here. There’s a nice, steady stream of people.

Mile 16: 12:40 — I forgot a Gu somewhere, so I do one here.

Mile 17: 13:53 — This is when it gets hard. Marathoners spend six miles in Golden Gate Park. Six miles in the middle of the race. Six tough miles where you just want to get out of the park. I was tired. My body was already aching. I just wanted out of the park. I wanted me leg to stop hurting too.

Mile 18: 11:54 — And yet, I had to get around Stow Lake. I’ve only ever been around Stow Lake while running this race. I’m sure it’s beautiful and tranquil, but when I saw it I just wanted it to be over. Unfortunately there’s a loop around the whole thing. At one point, when you think you’re done, you see other runners and say: “Wow, they’re just starting out!” Then you realize that’s an area you HAVEN’T run yet.

Mile 19: 13:01 — We run past the 1st Half Marathon finish. I hate everyone right now.

Mile 20: 12:02 — Finally out of the park. FINALLY. A couple more uphills. Gu! Make me feel better please Gu!

Mile 21: 13:35 — And then we start the downhills. I would normally go at these aggressively. But I really, really slowed down.

Mile 22: 12:49 — It was literally one tiny footstep in front of the other.

Mile 23: 13:15 — Finally back into the less hilly part of the course. Another Gu. I was considering calling Thomas here, just to let him know where I was and that I likely wasn’t finishing in 5:30, which is when I told him I would probably come in. But … instead I suddenly realized I had to go to the bathroom. I only make marathon bathroom stops if I see an open stall. I did here, so I got in and out as fast as I could. This is also where I realized my leg really, really hurt. There was no “I’ll be fine tomorrow.” I feared that if I stopped running, I wouldn’t be able to walk either.

Mile 24: 12:13 —Battling a little here, but overall finishing stronger than I did in the San Luis Obispo Marathon.

Mile 25: 11:57 — I’m exhausted. Just trying to put on foot in front of the other. Gu. I needed one at that point.

Mile 26: 11:49 — But the finish line isn’t anywhere near me. What gives? I had realized how far off my Garmin was from the actual course until then.

Mile .51: 5:36 — That extra .31 was torturous for me. I should have just been done. In fact, mt 26.2 time was 5:12:40 which wasn’t too far off my SLO Marathon time (only about 20 seconds), but this course was difficult. And long. I thought I tried to run the tangents good. (Other people were pissed about the course length, missing Boston qualifying because of it, etc. I’m not as concerned about that, obviously. I ran a good race despite my leg constantly throbbing.)

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I’m incredibly proud of that time. It was a tough marathon. I felt like I did my best running on a daunting course with a bad leg.

The finishers shoot wasn’t too crowded (with only about an hour left before the official end of the marathon). I collected my medal, a space blanket (even though it was warm), and headed down the shoot. I was handed a blueberry score from Panera. I also got a four-pack of King’s Hawaiian rolls, which I are later with some chicken my husband grabbed at a Safeway in San Francisco.

My husband had sent me a text message around mile 22 asking me if I was still alive. He found me at the finish line soon after I finished. I was sitting on a curb.

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There’s the finish line under the San Francisco Bay Bridge.

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Since San Francisco now charges to park on Sundays (lame!), Thomas and I headed back across the Bay Bridge and back into the East Bay en route to our home in Tracy. I just wanted to go home, take a shower and eat something.

I was more than happy just to stare at my race medal (I can’t be the only one who does this) and take a breather for the rest of the day before the True Blood season premiere.

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I’ve received a “coaster” medal before, but this one is awesome. I earned it for those 26.51 miles on that course. I didn’t even feel bad about hanging it in front of my PR SLO Marathon medal.

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The rest of the day, my legs were elevated and compressed. I swear my compression socks are the only reason I can walk after a long run. I love them more than I can relate.

That said, I wish I had a body “compression suit” for my stubborn little hip. It still hurts today. I’ve done some yard work on it, but I haven’t done any pounding. The problem is that I know it’s not broken. I now what a break feels like. I can put pressure on my leg. When my arm was broken, I’d recoil in pain the moment I put pressure on my arm. This isn’t a break.

It’s likely a bad strain. One that I’m reluctantly saying off of for at least another day. I’m itching to run again. But after five runs in a seven week period, I’m also willing to let my hip rest for a bit to put myself back together for September’s flatter Half Moon Bay International Marathon and, possibly, a half marathon in August.

The rest of my summer is about training, not racing. I’m looking forward to some downtime where a start line, and a finish line, isn’t in my future for a bit.

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A new member of the ’52 Club’

“Worth the hurt” is the motto for the San Francisco Marathon. Today, I know why.

My whole body hurts. It’s not just my super angry IT band and left hip. It’s my lower back, my shoulders and my core. When I finished my 26.5-mile jaunt (that’s what the Garmin tallied) yesterday, I sent a message to one of my running buddies.

“I’m never doing this one again,” I wrote.

She’s pretty sure I will.

After resting my legs all week, which was it’s own cruel punishment, I pounded the pavement of San Francisco. I ran my second fastest marathon at 5:15:46. I’m still a little impressed that it went so well. I told my husband to expect me around 5:30.

“Or later,” I said when he dropped me off near the Embarcedero, which happened to have a full line of portable toilets without any lines outside of the security checkpoint. (This year, there were security checkpoints in place where runners were searched in light of what happened at April’s Boston Marathon).

I timed everything so well on Sunday morning that I had maybe at 15 minute wait in my corral before hitting the streets.

Immediately my leg started hurting, but it didn’t develop into a full-on “why are you doing this???” pain until about mile 18, which is where I normally hit “the wall.” Except my wall wasn’t a wall as much as a lake that I didn’t want to see and a park that I just wanted to escape after six miles.

In any case, I’m completely satisfied with my time. I don’t feel like the last two races were regressions at all. I’m proud of what I did out there in San Francisco, even if some of my miles had the 13-minute mark in front of them.

My finish also means I truly earned my “52 Club” sweatshirt. When I asked my husband to grab me a long-sleeve shirt from upstairs before he went to work this morning, he brought it to me.

“I’m awarding you the sweater,” he laughed.

My three medals above show my progression from 2011 (“I’ll run the second half because it’s less hilly”) to 2012 (“I’ll run the first half to complete the Half-It-All Challenge”) to this year (“Why shouldn’t I run the full marathon?).

A full race report is in the works. I’m just happy to have survived and not done any significant damage to my leg and hip.