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Posts tagged ‘marathon’

Forecast calling for a very wet California International Marathon

So the weather for this weekend looks awesome for staying inside and lighting a nice fire.

But I’ll be out running 26.2 miles from Folsom to Sacramento instead. On Sunday, the forecast for Sacramento even calls for a “potential for flooding rains.”

Earlier today, the forecast called for 70% chance of rain. Now it’s higher.

Yikes.

I’ve only run parts of half marathons in the rain and cold. This looks like it will be a full deluge for the five hours or so it will take me to finish this thing.

Maybe if it’s pouring down rain I’ll run faster? One can only hope.

But this means I’ll pull out the contacts, which I rarely wear. But it’s better than having my glasses covered with rain drops everywhere. I’ll wear a visor (because a hat will just get wet anyway, so I might as well just wear the visor).

I’m still trying to figure out what shirt to wear, if only because I think it will also be cold. So I want to be warm. But if I get soaking wet and then it clears up, I also want to dry out quick. I also don’t want to lug around a soaking wet long-sleeve shirt forever.

I’m planning on taking a garbage bag to the start. I’ll also take Aquaphor to make sure I don’t chafe. I can’t imagine what chafing would feel like after that long in the rain.

So while I’m not looking forward to running in pouring rain, at least I have a plan.

That said, I’m still crossing my fingers to hope the storms pass and dump all four inches of the rain we’re expecting (apparently it would be a record for rainfall) before Sunday.

It started raining today, so I think we have some hope.

There was a bit of a clearing today during the lunch hour before an afternoon appointment I had to go to. So I headed to a sweet shop in the small town I live in. I picked up some homemade rocky road (nothing like killing a diet during taper week, oops).

Our town put up the Christmas tree in our town square area this week. But the photo is more to show the clouds than the tree. It’s a pretty impressive cloud showing.

I’m not going to let rain ruin my marathon. But I’d love to have a little less wet, a little more sun come Sunday.

Fresh from the finish line smell?

One of the biggest problems with running is that sometimes you smell a little ripe after. My husband never commented on my not so beautiful scent until I started running half marathons. It’s likely because I whenever I finish, even when it’s cold outside, I’m usually covered in sweat.

So I found it funny that when I got home yesterday, after a trip to Target for household necessities, that I realized something interesting about my newest “stick” of deodorant.

I bought deodorant, the “sport” kind because of all the working I’ve been doing lately.

When I was taking it out the box I noticed it was “marathon fresh scent.”

All I thought about when I saw the name was how bad I smell after I run 26.2 miles, which by the way happens for a third time next Sunday when I line up for the California International Marathon.

Today was my last long run before CIM.

In the past three weeks I’ve run 20, 13.1 and 10 miles on each of the Sundays. I’ve put more mileage on for a total of 110 miles so far in November.

I feel more ready for this marathon than I was at this point last year, but today’s run didn’t go so well. It’s likely because we psyched ourselves out.

The last long run before CIM last year was bad too. This run just felt tiring. Every step was exhausting. I think we wanted to get it done a little too much at the beginning. It didn’t go by as fast as our runs usually do either.

On a brighter note, I did get to try out my “marathon fresh scent” after and I’m glad to report it doesn’t smell like I do after I finish running that far. It actually smells like a mix of citrus and flowers, an odd but workable combination.

A good sign for the marathon maybe?

I’d like to hope. I need some good signs lately.

A second chance, a second try, another marathon

I hate it when bloggers make signing up for races a big deal. There’s a bit of the “I-just-signed-up-for-a-race-and-have-to-make-a-big-deal-out-of-it” moments when you come to a blog and the title of the post is “an announcement.”

So this is not an announcement. Not even close. It’s a mere statement of fact.

I signed up to run the California International Marathon on Dec. 2.

A second year of it. The 30th anniversary. Another marathon to try to bring down my time. I failed miserably in San Diego, despite months and months of extra training.

I “accidentally” ran a marathon at the Brazen six-hour endurance run in early July. But it wasn’t based on time and with the heat, I struggled at the end.

CIM presents a perfect opportunity to run a net-downhill course and revisit the route that, let’s face it, I don’t remember much of after mile 18. I’m hoping to remember it all this year. I’m also hoping to run better, both in how I feel and in how fast I run. So I signed up. I’m excited, but also nervous. I’m lining up races until then, especially since I’ll be training for the Rock ‘n’ Roll San Jose Half Marathon and the Nike Women’s Half, both in October.

I also, because I’m crazy, signed up for a half marathon the weekend after the San Francisco 1st Half Marathon. The Brazen Summer Breeze race is “flat and fast.” And I did it because I’m taking the week off of work. What a better way to take a vacation, right?

I didn’t think this year would be full of races, but life, and some other stuff has kind of changed things for me. So I’m looking forward to running hard and long into the next couple months. I’m looking forward to getting to the start, and finish, lines at CIM in December too.

And so the training begins…

 

Going long at the Brazen Dirty (Half) Dozen

I want to say I didn’t set out to run a marathon during the Brazen Dirty (Half) Dozen six-hour endurance run. But I knew it was a possibility. I knew I could run a marathon in six hours. I had before, even though my last experience in San Diego wasn’t pretty. I also knew I’d never attempted such a distance on trails, which in many cases tend to increase my time thanks to not-so-secure footing and rolling hills.

But I was confident in my ability for this one.

I’ve had some really good runs lately. Those were mostly on flatter ground or on the treadmill, but I felt strong going into the run. My goals were pretty simple. I wanted to attempt eight laps. And I wanted to run the entire time.

I wanted to run the entire time even if it meant slowing down on certain areas and not pushing myself super hard on others. There was one specific hill that I power walked up every time and I was really glad I did by final two passes around.

I’m happy to report that I made both goals basically. I made it eight times around the 3.37-mile course. And I ran 5:52:21. I probably could have made the .7 loop around too once more, but figured I didn’t want to chance it, since they were starting to countdown and I was pretty tired.

My morning started out at 4 a.m. when I woke up to get ready to make the trek to Point Pinole Regional Park. We arrived at about 6:22 a.m.

It was a beautiful, foggy morning.

The bathroom lines were nonexistent. And with two bathroom locations on the course, I didn’t have to worry about ever needing to wait in line. Though two or three bathroom stops during the run added to my time. My brother came too and we tried to get his packet early. No go. They weren’t giving them out for a couple more hours.

Danny went back to the car and fell asleep. Thomas also took a nap. (Important note for later.)

The race got started right on time after some announcements. I should note that there were probably less than 200 people in total racing the six and twelve hour runs. I think there were more for the six than the twelve, definitely.

There’s another photo from the start. We all stared together. By the second loop, we were all pretty spaced out, which was one of the appealing features of this race for me. I wanted to do a race without a lot of pressure. I wanted to be relaxed after the experience in San Diego. This was perfect.

I started out strong. I found my pace pretty quickly and I just kept moving. And moving. And moving.

My splits were all across the board. I ran all over. From 11:22 to just under 16 minutes.

There’s more detail of it here. I don’t think I was inconsistent though. It’s a timed race where individual laps are counted. That includes pit stops, like water bottle refills and stopping to look at results. I also stopped at the aid stations. My average moving time, according to Garmin, was 12:40, which isn’t bad at all, especially since I kept repeating the course. There was a A LOT of course fatigue for me at the end because of that.

My shirt here says “Run Happy.” I kind of feel like that was what I was doing all day.

This was at the top of the last hill on the loop. I ran up it nearly every time. In fact, I was doing pretty good running up nearly every hill. I paced down as I went uphill, with small steps to make it through. I was also incredibly conservative with the downhills, including a fairly steep one on a single track near the point of Point Pinole (also the best view).

I wore my long-sleeve shirt the first three laps. I wanted to take it off sooner, but Thomas was still sleeping. He didn’t show up with a new bottle until I was finishing my fourth lap. And he didn’t bring my back. I was a little upset. It had everything I needed it in, including sunscreen, which would come in handy later.

He kept refilling my bottle, so every two go rounds I would refill it.

Each time we’d pass under the Brazen arch. Later a second arch would go up for the 5K/10K. I ran the 10K last year and thought the endurance runners were crazy. And then I became one.

And there were great, changing signs throughout the course. Fat cells burning? You bet. According to Garmin, I burned 2,855 calories. I did five Gu in Vanilla Bean flavor. I also had Thomas constantly refilling my 20-ounce Amphipod water bottle. I brought my own Gatorade, because I knew it wouldn’t be available on the course.

I wish I would have taken a photo of an aid station, specifically the one at the arch where volunteers had everything from mini peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to oranges to chocolate candy. The other aid station, at 1.7 miles from the arch, was staffed by Mountain House runners who encouraged me on each go round. I looked forward to getting to that aid station every time.

All the volunteers were so encouraging. Including the “woo” guy taking photos. In the six hours, he showed up three places along the course.

The second time I saw him, I told him I was glad he moved because he was so encouraging.

That’s me saying “hey, you moved!” and telling him I was glad to see him. He then said he’d be moving again and I thanked him for the support. He caught that too.

Notice that these photos are vastly different from the ones I posted for the Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon a couple weeks back. I wasn’t miserable during this run. I wasn’t in pain. I was having a really good time. I was taking my time. And I was loving every minute of the nearly six hours I was running. It was awesome. It was probably the best run I’ve had in a long time.

And I think it had a little something to do with my shoes.

My shoes that are now covered in dust. Check out my legs post run. I was sunburned during the last marathon, covered in dirt for this one.

And yes, I ended up at the end running a marathon. Slow and steady, finishing, according to my Garmin, with 26.7 miles. I’m still waiting for final results to post on the Brazen site to see what the timing company has recorded.

Another one with my jiggly arms. I’ve slimmed down everywhere on my body except my arms. Swimming was helping that, but I haven’t picked it up again since my swimming school shut down. So my arms just flab around when I run. Gross, I know. Look how slim my legs are though! Silver lining I guess.

It was during the lap that I’m photographed in above that my brother Danny whipped the competition during the noon 5K. I’m not even kidding. He finished fifth overall. He also was first in his age group. I’ve only ever twice finished in the top three in my age group and that was during incredibly small races.

Danny was wicked fast.

So he was waiting at the end with Thomas when I finally came in on my last go round. It took him 23:58 to run one lap. It took me much, much longer, but I was trying to pace myself to get through all six hours. (Not making up excuses at all, I was slow and steady.)

At the end, Danny was presented an awesome medal that the announcer referred to as a “piece of poop.”

Is that not the coolest medal ever for a 5K or 10K? I would have been kind of jealous if I hadn’t also earned a pretty awesome medal that also doubled as a coaster and bottle opener.

It even has backing on it so it won’t scratch the table. That on top of the awesome hoodie I received instead of a shirt and I think this is the best distance run I’ve ran so far. I know I felt great after I finished. And that was really important to me after the disaster in San Diego.

Plus I got to spend the day with my husband (who wasn’t all that great at crewing, so much so he said next time Danny could crew for me and he’d go to the nearby shooting range) and my little brother, who got a second age-group medal that I didn’t take a photo of.

I sent my mom that photo as a “proof of life” for my brother. Danny ran his first half marathon with me in 2011. After we ate and got back to my house, he had an accelerated heart rate. He ended up in the emergency room in the hospital down the street. I felt horrible, so I didn’t ask him to run with me again until Bay to Breakers. I sent her a “proof of life” photo after that too.

You can tell I changed shirts here. I had to. As it became hotter (probably why I slowed a lot near the end), I became more and more sweaty. I smelled so bad after I finished. I immediately took off my tank top and put on another shirt. Yeah, it was that bad.

We hung around a little, mostly so I could regain my bearings. Running for that long kind of wears the legs down. Surprisingly I’m not feeling half bad a day later. As we left, the 12-hour runners were still going strong.

I admire that. I honestly don’t think I could have gone six more hours. My toes were starting to blister (just from repeated pounding), and my right hip was starting to feel a little pain. But I had no IT band issues. My shoes were wide enough to not push my feet into a curve. I was happy the entire way through.

A good day? Yes. A good run? Yes.

It’s funny that taking longer to go a similar distance than I did just over a month ago came make me feel better, but this run wasn’t about the distance as much as it was covering all six hours. It was about finding my stride and sticking to it. It was also about finally meeting a goal I set for myself.

And I did. Success. Finally.

Second marathon sophomore slump: Part II

I usually don’t start out posts with the “after” photo, but felt in this case it was necessary. The above photo comes from near the finish line. I’m beyond spent at this point. I don’t even think I can describe how tired I am at this point. My feet are killing me. I’m near tears. I just wanted it to end.

At 4:45 a.m. I woke up to my iPhone alarm. I usually have to set two, but since I didn’t sleep at all I didn’t even need the second one. I rolled out of bed and started getting ready for the 6:15 a.m. wave starts. I was in corral 25, so I’d be heading out later, obviously, than 6:15 a.m., but I still wanted to be down to the start area with enough time to go to the bathroom (necessary, always) and warm up.

I ate an apple in the hotel room and most of a Chocolate Peppermint Luna bar. I also wrapped my feet. My shoes had been giving me a lot of problems, more than my Nikes ever did. I kept thinking I’d break in the Saucony Hurricane 14s before the marathon. By the time I hit the streets of San Diego, I had put about 80 miles on them alone.

Broken in? No. Not at all.

My pinky toes were completely raw. I also kept getting blisters on the inside of my foot. All of this would come back to haunt me during the 26.2. But at 5 a.m. I thought wrapping my feet with moleskin and then doing a once around with tape would make the world better.

Thomas drove us away from the hotel on the less than 10-minute drive to the starting line.

The portable toilet lines were ridiculous. I’ve seriously never seen so many people waiting to use the bathrooms. This was a complete 180 from the Oakland Half Marathon earlier this year where there ALWAYS seem to be ample bathrooms and no lines.

The bathroom wait ended up being about 30+ minutes. That was actually fine, if only because the waves went off every two minutes or so. By the time I was done using the bathroom, there were still six or more waves in front of me. I lined up with Corral 25 and set my Garmin.

Nerves were taking over. I downed a Vanilla Bean Gu before I crossed the start. It didn’t help soothe my stomach.

I figured they would get better once I started running.

Nope.

But either way, close to 7 a.m., we were off and running.

It started out promising.

Mile 1: 10:59 — I was hoping I wouldn’t start running and suddenly have to go to the bathroom. Thankfully I didn’t. The first mile is downhill straight until a quick turn onto University Avenue. I hit Mile 1 and was feeling OK.

Mile 2: 11:08 — The first water stop comes pretty quickly here. I bypass it because I’m carrying my 20-ounce Amphipod water bottle.

Mile 3: 11:12 — We’re in Balboa Park for parts of miles 2 and 3. It’s beautiful. Nice architecture. I’m still feeling OK. We’re passing the zoo. This is also the point is seemed like every guy on the course seemed to be running off into the bushes to go to the bathroom. The women on the course talked about how they were envious they couldn’t do that.

Mile 4: 10:54 — This is what split the course between the half marathon and the marathon. I suddenly felt so much more comfortable with fewer people around. A little more than 7,000 were running the marathon. There were more than twice that many in the half marathon. I took a Gu, hoping the fatigue I was feeling would level off.

Mile 5: 11:10 — Lots of street, few big sites.

Mile 6: 11:10 — We ran through Petco Park, which was pretty nice in itself. This is also the point where I started to feel tired. The Gu seemed to be working too.

Mile 7: 12:48 — And then, just like that, it wasn’t working anymore. A gradual incline started here. My body wasn’t having it.

Mile 8: 14:52 — Things went from bad to worse here. The stable group I was running with was suddenly gone. I was still moving up an incline. Then I had to go to the bathroom. I was lucky that this mile wasn’t longer really. I got lucky and ran into a portable toilet that was behind a performer’s stage. I don’t think we are supposed to do that, but there was no one stopping me. And by the time I ran out of the toilet, there was a line of people waiting to use the bathroom.

Mile 9: 13:15 — We got onto Highway 163 at this point, which is banked for most of the surface. I wasn’t down for the count yet.

In fact I still looked pretty happy despite slowing down again on the inclines. Everyone was starting to look a little fatigued here, but I was still in good company.

Mile 10: 14:12 — I had done a Gu at mile 8, like planned. But my body wasn’t having it. I did another here.

Mile 11: 11:37 — The Gu, with a nice long downhill allowed me some speed here.

Mile 12: 13:58 — But not long enough. By this time, the tape I had secured around the moleskin was wearing into my foot. I’m not talking about a slight wear. It was a painful searing. I didn’t want to stop, though, because I already knew I was quite a bit behind my goal.

Mile 13: 12:07 — The Gu caught up with me, but my half marathon time was somewhere around 2:41. I was spent. Two runners tried to help my spirits, but I wasn’t having any of it

Mile 14: 13:36 — The slowdown continues as we start moving back uphill.

Mile 15: 11:37 — I did another Gu here.

Mile 16: 14:30 — Here we start an excruciating out and back area. By now I can tell my foot has been rubbed raw. I also know my baby toes are completely trashed. This is also the point where I stopped at an aid station and had a woman re-tape my foot. I thought, maybe, it was at mile 19. That’s where I nearly melted down. A nice woman at a medical tent along the way told me that I could give up. But if I did, the sweep crew would be nearly two-hours behind. I had a moment here where I almost did give up.

Mile 17: 13:32 — Gu. This was probably the most depressing part of the run. I was so tired. I didn’t want to go. Every step was painful. I wanted to cry.

Mile 18: 13:17 — More of the same.

Mile 19: 13:07 — I started to feel as if this run would have an end. I did another Gu, before I was supposed to, but I kept going.

Mile 20: 11:42 — The Gu propelled me through a beautiful park area. I couldn’t help but be propelled to move forward.

That’s about the point in the run where I knew that if I put my mind to it and forgot about how much pain my feet were in, I could get through it. That would prove harder than I thought, though. The photos are my purchases from MarathonFoto. And they get better, just wait.

Mile 21: 12:07 — “Keep moving,” I kept telling myself. More Gu. I’m surprised I finished with one Gu left for all I was taking down.

Mile 22: 13:19 — This part was discouraging. We moved from one island, full of support, onto another where it seemed the crowd thinned out so much that we were the only ones there.

Mile 23: 13:43 — Then, I couldn’t do it anymore. My feet were killing me.

Mile 24: 12:56 — The pain took control.

Mile 25: 15:05 — Those photos? Yeah. That happened. I didn’t care who was taking my picture. It hurt. My legs felt fine. But my feet were not having it. Not at all. I was so mad. I was mad at myself. I was mad at my shoes. I was mad at the run itself. I was just hoping to finish at this point. I knew I wouldn’t be breaking any records. I knew I wouldn’t be better than my previous time. I was pissed. I can’t even say how pissed I was. It was depressing. Considering I’d spent more time preparing for this run than the first, I was depressed. I did a Gu.

Mile 26: 12:28 — It’s here, I decided to pick it up again after another Gu. Yep, another. I just kept taking them down.

Mile .2: 3:53 — Pushing it here. Trying to run it in. The finish line seemed so far away.

I ran over a very uneven part of road/sidewalk here. You can see it in the photo on the left. That one little imperfection at the end just added insult to injury. Finally, after all that pain, I crossed the finish line.

Garmin time: 5:34:26

Chip time: 5:34:14

I walked in a daze through the finish area and collected my medal. I had enough energy to smile for the photo at the end, but no more. I was done. It was over. And I hated nearly every minute of it.

So what went wrong? I want to say everything. My training was strong. I went out conservatively.

The shoes were the biggest problem. I had blisters everywhere at the end. I could barely stand after I sat down. The bottom line: After nearly a month of trying to break my Saucony Hurricane 14s in, I was getting nowhere in making them work for me. Instead, they put me in excruciating pain the entire way through. My small toes were rubbed raw. I had gnarly blisters. I even had two blood blisters. It was a mess.

Something I wish I knew before the marathon: My shoes weren’t working for me.

I’m a big believer that the bad runs make the good ones all that much better. But this was ridiculous.

My husband tried to reassure me that I should be proud. I ran 26.2 miles. He was proud. Yet, all I feel is defeated. Defeated by a distance that only months earlier I ran 14 minutes quicker.

I contemplated this as I sobbed on a curb. Thomas had forgot my backpack with flip flops in it. I didn’t want to put my shoes back on. So I sobbed while he went and got the backpack. It was kind of like Pink’s “Just Like a Pill” when she says “I haven’t moved from the spot where you left me, this must be a bad trip.”

And it was a bad trip indeed.

Like that, it was over. I waddled to the car. We started on our way home. Nearly eight hours in the car later, and suddenly realizing I had a gnarly leg sunburn, the weekend was over. I’ve never been so thankful in my life to have taken a Monday off.

I wish I could say I learned something from this run about my training structure or what I need to do in the future. But the truth is, nearly a week later, I just want to put it out of my mind.

I’m thinking it will take me awhile to get over the disappointment my second marathon.

Second marathon sophomore slump: Part I

To say I’ve been dreading writing my race recap for the Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon would be an understatement. Part of me was hoping, maybe I could just not write anything about the race outside of saying that it sucked. It was not fun for me. It made me work every minute. And I was miserable the entire time.

But that wouldn’t be much of a race recap.

I keep having these “I should have known” moments. I don’t do travel races all too well. I proved that during the Big Sur Half Marathon in November and again during the Big Sur 21-miler. (Or maybe I’m just not up to par for Big Sur races?) Somehow I managed to do OK with California International Marathon last year, though.

The plan was that we’d go down to San Diego on Saturday, early and head back after the race on Sunday.

So we ventured down Interstate 5 in the wee hours of the morning. We hit the road around 5:30 a.m. We sped past Los Angeles, which is about five hours south of where I live, before the noon hour. And, after only two stops along the way, we made it to San Diego sometime after the noon hour.

The happy buzz kind of started to end there as we hit traffic along Harbor Boulevard in downtown on our way to the Convention Center where the expo was happening.

I’ve been to three Rock ‘n’ Roll expos so far. This one was the biggest. This was also the biggest of the three races I’d run.

The check in process was simple. I was handed my blue “marathon” bib.

Rock ‘n’ Roll generally has a pretty efficient system. Bib. Shirt. Reusable backpack.

I got lucky this time with the race shirt. It was a female size. And it even fits good. My one from Pasadena seemed to run a little large. It’s also a nice blue color and basic enough for me to want to wear it again. (I should do a post on what makes race shirts wearable, seriously, because I have quite a few I want to send in and have a quilt made from because I don’t wear them.)

The biggest thing I noticed about the expo was that there was a ton of free stuff. Free milk. Free swag. Free Jamba Juice drinks. Free cake. Even free tuna fish.

Speaking of tuna, I even got a photo with Charlie the Tuna, the mascot from StarKist Tuna.

So that’s a pretty awesome photo. I walked around for about an hour, making a purchase of a 26.2 shirt at the Brooks booth and a new roller for my legs.

The new roller was actually on sale. It’s called a TigerTail and it’s somewhat like my Stick roller from another expo. But it has a solid roller in the middle instead of the beads. This is amazing because my Stick roller pinches me every now and then.

That’s what it looks like. I’ve used it multiple times since the marathon. I’ve also taken it to work to roll my legs out when I need to if I am sitting for too long. At $25, I feel like I got a deal on it.

I didn’t spend too much money at the expo. I just didn’t see anything I really needed, outside of the TigerTail, and maybe some items here and there. I should note that I bought a new container of Glide, but not the name brand. I had forgotten my Glide at home and my fat little arm on my right side has been chafing pretty badly. My arms and gut are the first places I gain weight and where it usually stays, so even when my stomach is looking more svelte and my legs are bulked out, my arms are still chubby.

Before the exit, the videos of the course were playing out.

It was then I had a moment where I realized “I’m running 26.2 miles tomorrow.” And I was nervous. And scared. I’d like to think it doesn’t how many times you do this distance, the  likelihood is that if you are more mortal, less Olympian, you never really full comprehend how long it is when you sign up for it.

It’s a bit of a distance.

We left the expo and headed into the Gaslamp District in San Diego for cupcakes. For me. Because I love cupcakes and I knew specifically where a shop was since I was down in San Diego overnight for an American Society of Newspaper Editors conference in early 2011.

Then we headed back to the hotel. It’s there that a headache started to flair up. But I went and had a pasta dinner, usual fuel, and decided not to head out for a night on the town. Instead, I’d try to tuck in early and see if I could catch up on sleep.

That’s where my experience in San Diego all goes down hill.

I got into bed at 9 p.m. and couldn’t sleep. I turned every which way. I put on the fan for white noise. I was comfortable, but I wasn’t sleeping.

So I laid there. For seven hours. Eyes closed, but never fully falling asleep.

There was nothing I could do about it. My mind kept wandering. Every time I thought “this will be the point I’ll fall asleep” it didn’t happen. I just kept staring at the ceiling.

There was no way I wouldn’t be exhausted running this race. I knew it then. I’d woken up at 4 a.m. the morning before and hadn’t slept the entire night. When my alarm clock went off at 4:45 a.m. I considered not running.

But I’d trained so hard. I’d come so far.

Part of me thought I could pull it together and get it done. And that’s all I thought about as my husband drove me to the start line. My mind wandered. My stomach turned.

It wouldn’t get any better going into the race.

 

San Diego was beautiful, but painful

Every single one of my worst thoughts came true. But I blame my downfall on a bad case of insomnia. I didn’t sleep the night before the race. At all. I probably shouldn’t have even tried to run 26.2.

But I did. And I hit the wall early. And it got ugly.

A day later my feet are blistered. My legs are sunburned and sore. And I’m overall exhausted.

My finish time: 5:34:14.

That’s 14 minutes slower than California International Marathon. It’s enough to make me rethink my focus, my training and my attitude. My husband says I’m over thinking it. I probably am. But I want to get better. Not worse.

I was exhausted by mile eight. And I just couldn’t pull the magic back. There was not enough Gu in the world to save it.

I nearly quit at mile 19. But a really nice aid station volunteer persuaded me against it. So I pulled it together, got back out there and finished.

I have some bad splits. I was 12 minutes behind the entire way. But I made it.

My husband, who bought me the little bear above, was proud. I finished. And on some days, sometimes that’s what it’s really about.

A full race report to come later.

Am I disappointed? Yes. But I also ran 26.2 miles. And I pretty damn proud of that too.

 

Psyching myself out

Tonight, I’m packing my bag for our early morning and through the day trip eight hours south for the Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon.

I’m nervous. I’m anxious. I’m a little scared.

I think I’m most nervous because I’m afraid I’ll be slower than the 5:20:41 I ran for the California International Marathon in December.

They (as in everyone who urges first-time marathoners not to set goals) say that the first time you should aim to finish. The second time? Well, there are no recommendations for goals for a second time.

I’m hoping to run more consistent. I’m hoping to finish (again). And I’m hoping it doesn’t turn into a sufferfest. It could.

I think I’m psyching myself out a little. I kept feeling pain in my legs this week. Then I went for a now-regular massage before I do a long run and suddenly realized my arms were bruised from it (sign of a good massage?).

So I keep thinking to myself: This is going to be all bad.

That’s not helping me at all really. I know that, of course. But I also don’t know what to expect. I don’t know how I’ll feel at mile two. I don’t know how I’ll feel at mile 22.

It’s all still a mystery. And it’s making me very anxious.

Breathe deeply. Breathe deeply. Remember the Gu.

We set off early tomorrow, around 5 a.m. And I’m waking up early the next day to run 26.2.

Again. 26.2 again.

Whew.

I’m packing my bags. I’m trying to get everything together.

And I’m trying to get it together. And keep it together for the run.

Believing in the run

It’s been some time since I went for a run in Mountain House. A really long time. Between other obligations, school ending and work being crazy, I haven’t been able to venture out there much for a nice run.

I’ve missed it for some time.

So when Jennie asked if I wanted to head out there for a run I was really excited. Today has been a really nice day in the valley, but as we got further into the day it started to get a little windy. Then a lot.

It was windy at my house when I left. Mountain House sits right along the Altamont, a part of the Diablo Range that separates the valley from the Bay Area. So if it’s windy in Stockton (where I work), it’s even windier in Tracy. And then it’s even crazier in Stockton. I shot some video of today’s crazy wind.

The little fountain at the main park, where we meet, was blowing every which way. It as crazy.

I sent a text to Jennie: “Crazy headwinds!”

And I knew we were in for it, which meant that by the time we hit the backside of the community, we were being hammered by the wind. We talk a lot when we run, which means we were kind of yelling at each other throughout part of the run where the wind was really hammering us.

Our “warm-up” miles for two and three were both over 12 minutes. Our best mile was 10:23.

More crazy wind for your viewing pleasure.

But we kept putting one foot in front of the other. Moving along. Into mile four. Then five. And, finally as the  wind came back to hitting us again, we got to six and I turned off  the Garmin.

A good run. By definition? Not so much, but by my standards, yes.

In six days I run my second marathon: 26.2 miles of insanity.

The marathon is a distance that runners are taught, rightly so, to respect. It’s a distance that’s not easy by any standard. And it’s one that some people, myself included, struggle with. My first marathon was a 5:20:41.

I’ve trained harder since then. I’ve run more. I’ve had two longer-type runs in this  training cycle. (One of them was the Big Sur 21-miler, hills and all.) I’m also on track to hit 100 miles for May, including an 18-miler a couple weeks ago.

I’m ready. I’m also hesitant.

The run is long. It’s also hard. But I feel better going into this race than California International Marathon in December.

Then I had only done a 15 and a 20 miler. I also didn’t average nearly as many miles as now. I feel like a stronger runner.

Does that mean PR marathon magic next weekend? I can’t say.

A couple years ago Nike had a campaign with a simple slogan: “Believe in the run.”

I had to say I give marathon training a “let go and let it ride” approach, but the three weeks before the day of a marathon if you haven’t busted your butt in training runs and made yourself a suffering mess along the way, there isn’t much you can do at that point.

I have. More eight milers than 10, yes. But more longer runs too.

More focus on recovery. More focus on building strength. And, since I had to give up swimming a couple months ago, more focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

My ugly feet, yes. And the wrapped baby toes. I’m still getting used to my new running shoes. They wear my feet a little differently than the Nike Equalons.

It’s now time to believe in the run. The run I’ve prepared for. The one I’ve come close to in training.

Today’s six-mile taper run was without Gu. With little water. I survived. I didn’t push too hard, but I made it work.

It’s just time to work on relaxing now, until Saturday when I wake up early in the morning and head to San Diego. Then wake up earlier the next morning for a 6:15 a.m. start (though my wave will likely start much later.)

So my mantra, worth repeating, for the week starts now.

Believe in the run.

Leaving it all on the course

I have to admit, this past week was a tough one. Without getting into too many details, I’ll say work was hard. Both jobs were hard.

My students were finishing their last issue of the year. And I worked more than 50 hours at my full-time job. It made for a week of work somewhere in the 70-hour range. I lost count after 60+. So when I got home from work, around 8:45 p.m. on Friday, I was seriously considering not running the Mermaid Series Sirena 18 in Fremont.

But I needed the 18-miler after my longest run of the training cycle at the Big Sur 21-miler a couple weeks ago. It’s not because I thought Big Sur was a disaster, not at all. But the 18-miler was going to be a better proving ground for how the Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Marathon might go on June 3.

So I set my alarm clock for 4:30 a.m. I hopped into bed at about 10:30 p.m.

Sleep came quick, but my body didn’t want to wake up. I knew it would be hotter than usual so I grabbed my only Dri-Fit tank top and a longer pair of capris. This would also be the first venture out for my Saucony Hurricane 14s.

I loaded my iFitness belt with Vanilla Bean Gu. And I slathered sunscreen all over myself.

The start was at 7:30 a.m. I made it to the Quarry Lakes site in Fremont by 6:45 a.m. Thomas opted to go to work, so he dropped me off.

It was a beautiful morning.

Too bad I hit a bump nearly immediately. I went to bib pickup and was handed an awesome shirt. I asked where bag check in was. I was told there was none, despite it being on the event’s Facebook page.

I quickly ran away and called Thomas to come back and get my bag. Only after he was on his way did a volunteer track me down and tell me there would be bag check up, but she didn’t know where. By then, Thomas was already making his way back to the park.

Ten minutes later and still with no sign of bag pickup, Thomas was back at the park. I handed him the race shirt and my bag, including my sunscreen.

The only bathroom lines in site were at the “real” toilets. I used the portable ones. At a certain point, and after so many races, I’ve gotten over my fear of portable toilets. So I didn’t have to wait for the bathrooms at all.

The 60 or so people doing the Sirena 18, the longest of all four distances, lined up near the start. After some pumping up from an organizer, we were off.

The first four miles of the run were through the actual park. The first out and back was a nice, mostly fire path road. It definitely wasn’t hard on the legs or knees. I was pacing pretty well through the first miles.

Mile 1: 10:13

Mile 2: 10:49

Mile 3: 11:32 — I took a quick walk break here. I noticed I was pacing out too fast. Way too fast. It was only about 45 seconds at most.

Mile 4: 11:07 — For the first time in a race, I ran and ate my Gu at the same time. I usually stop. I also didn’t walk through the first couple aid stations, I sort of walked/run and tried not to spill water all over me. I did end up spilling water all over me.

Mile 5: 10:57 — Must have been the Gu.

Mile 6: 11:14

Mile 7: 11:56

Mile 8: 11:13

Mile 9: 12:29

Mile 10: 11:39 — Finally reached the double digits, still on the out and back here.

Mile 11: 12:00 — The 11-mile marker was right after the turnaround. Has anyone else ever noticed how awkward turnarounds are? The race field was so small I kind of shuffled around the sign and volunteers.

Mile 12: 13:09 — I stopped to fill up my water bottle at the aid stop.

Mile 13: 11:54

Mile 14: 13:22 — This was kind of my “wall” in this run. This is also where I noticed a difference in the heat. The entire “out” part we ran away from the sun. The “back” part was all in the sun. And while some was covered, not all was.

Mile 15: 11:56 — I’m starting to get tired. It was then I decided NOT to do my last Gu at mile 16 and just see how I did.

Mile 16: 13:09 — Thought to myself: “Maybe I should have done the Gu.”

Mile 17: 13:17 — Second thought: “Definitely should have done the Gu.” Back in Quarry Lakes park, there was no shade. None at all.

Mile 18: 11:03 — I crossed the finish line and thought I hit my Garmin. It read 3:32:51. Then, after being handed my Mermaid Series necklace and a water bottle, I realized the Garmin was still running. It turned off officially at 3:33:07. I was annoyed because the two women who finished in front of me had pacers leading them in. Pacers who took up the entire sidewalk. When I tried to get around them, one of the women sped up.

And also, my Garmin had me at 17.90, which means I ran those tangents a little too well.

So, my unofficial time was 3:32:51.

I waited until Sunday to track down my “official time” only to find a huge problem. I’m not at all listed in the results.

Nowhere.

I’m assuming, after running nearly 30 races, that my timing chip likely failed.

I can’t help but be more than a little upset. I once saw a really nasty battle play out on a Facebook page where a woman wasn’t getting her time fixed and kept asking for it to be remedied. I didn’t understand why she was so upset. Her Garmin had the time.

Now I understand. I spent more than three hours out on that course. I braved the long out and back that nearly took me to Coyote Hills Regional Park (it was in sight at the turnaround).

And I had no time.

On my right foot, above, is the offending D-Tag. I’ve never had a D-Tag fail before. I’ve sent an email to the race organizers. Two girls finished exactly before. I literally came in immediately after.

I know I showed up and I know I did the race. But I want my results too.

I’ll say, that kind of soured a really good experience.

I left every emotion I had out there. I ran consistent. (The slower miles were from filling up my water bottle, adjusting my new shoes, etc.) And I suddenly feel so much better prepared for the upcoming marathon.

I nearly cried when I got to the finish line. It was an emotional 18-mile journey.

My husband caught me coming through the finish, floppy arms and all.

Just as quickly as it started more than three hours and thirty minutes earlier, I was done. I sat down on the grass near the finish. I wasn’t hungry thanks to the Gu. I wasn’t even all that tired. I had a couple blisters from shoes that hadn’t been field tested too much, but that’s to be expected.

And I tweeted about my excitement in my finish:

After an exhausting 60+ hour work week, I just ran the most consistent race of my life. I left everything I had in those 18 miles.

My husband was trying out his new camera lens, so we stuck around for a little bit.

He got a fairly nice one of me too.

I would caution readers that I don’t look that horrid in real life all the time. I clean up pretty well when not covered with sweat and when my hair is done. I promise.

We stopped at a nearby nursery to pick up some Mother’s Day gifts since we were expecting my mom and grandmother’s for dinner in a dual birthday/Mother’s Day celebration. When I started to clean up I noticed a nice sun burn/tan line from my Garmin and my Road ID.

Overall, the Mermaid Series East Bay Run was fairly organized and fun. There were aid stations every couple miles. The volunteers cheered everyone on. And instead of a medal at the end, we got cute little necklaces. On one site it said “motivate” on the other was the run’s logo. Super cute and functional. I can wear this on Monday. I couldn’t do that with a medal.

In the evening, I kicked up my feet and watched some Netflix for a short amount of time before the day finally caught up with me. Early-morning wake-ups for races are to be expected, but nonetheless are fatigue-inducing later in the day.

I feel more ready for this marathon than I was in December. I don’t know if it’s because I have done a second long run or because I’m a better runner now than in December, but I think I’m definitely feeling my stride better.

And I didn’t walk away from this run feeling horrible (outside of the bummer of not being recorded in race results or listed on the site). With another Gu, I probably could have kept going. I know I could have kept going.

There’s something to be said about feeling comfortable in the long run.