Step One: Quasimodo Robot

Yesterday I completed the Harrisburg Marathon. Two weeks ago I attempted 16miles to make sure I could at least make it that far. That day I came home to find my roommate in the shower so I snuggled my puppy on the floor... and immediately passed out. Later in the day I needed yet another nap. When I thought about my prospects of finishing a marathon with such little preparation... well, lets just say that optimistically I thought I could run 20 and walk the rest if necessary. Pessimistically, I thought that I was definitely in over my head. I've gained around 15lbs this year and lost most of the conditioning I'd put in last year and during the late winter months. Some days 8miles feels like work. I never thought I'd hit (what often feels like) running rock bottom.

I spent every day last week stressed to the max. I nervously downed sodas, then "erased" them with several waters trying to keep myself hydrated. I thought of every possible strategy to make it a little further than my original projection. I told myself that no matter what, I'd be happy to finish. Internally, I was really upset that my first marathon wouldn't be a good debut. Struggling to gut out 26.2miles instead of speeding through was a far cry from the glory I was looking for. That being said, I made the commitment to run it and it was my fault alone that I wasn't prepared. (To really understand what I put myself through, I'll update my dailymile.com account to reflect every run between August and October. Get ready to feel my marathon day pain.) I also spent some time reading first time marathon faux pas in preparation of last Sunday's race. This was followed by more stress. I read a "bathroom disaster" version of things to and not to do. I decided that this list was one to dog ear.

I woke up at 4:30am on race day. I picked up the bag I packed the night before and did a double check. Watch (check), calf sleeves (check), compression socks for after (check), fuel belt loaded (check), running shoes (check), iPod (check... wait did I charge that?!? double checked). I got dressed, brushed my teeth, washed my face and braided my hair. I was as ready as I could get. I grabbed a Pepsi, Gatorade Prime, three Rice Krispie treats, and two bottles of water. Off I went. I stopped at my wingman's place to pick him up. He's a seasoned vet and knew what the aftermath of Hurricane Heather could produce. I'm glad he put the forethought into the after because the before was all consuming for me. On the drive to Harrisburg, I nervously drank half of my Pepsi, ate the Rice Krispie treats, and drank the full bottle of water. One of the noobie mistakes I read about was drinking too much water before the race. We arrived almost two hours before the race. I had plenty of time. I check in, pin my bib, and walk back to my car to change out of my Uggs and into my running shoes. Things are starting to get real. My stress is climbing... I put in the Jackie Evancho cd. My wingman sits patiently through the 11-ish year old classically trained singer serenading us. Dude deserves a medal.... but I'm not giving him mine.

With 20 minutes or so until race time, we head to the starting line. My gadgets are in place, I'm stretching out, I listen to the pacer talking... I'm staying calm. I was waiting for the race director to start talking, welcoming us and maybe saying a prayer... instead a bull horn goes off. Crap, the race has started and I'm still wearing my hoodie. I tossed it at my wingman and took off with dirty talk Dave, my pacer. I wasn't sure what I could run having not actually put in the training. I decided to give the 4:10 pacer a shot. He told inappropriate joke after joke. It was a great way to start a race. He kept me slow and from going out too fast. (My body thinks its still fast and doesn't realize we have work to do.)

At mile six a guy sprinted to where he thought he was being hidden and dropped trou to go number 2. So glad I read the NOT-TO-DO list. Thank God. I'd hate to be that guy...

By mile 12 however, I was having trouble holding myself in. I was like a horse chomping on the bit begging for free reign. I pulled slightly ahead on a hill and just went with it. I knew to keep myself contained. I didn't want dirty Dave to have to spatula me off the pavement a mile up the road. I knew my parents and brother Nick would be around mile 15-16. I kept that in mind. The moment I saw my dad waiting for me on the edge of HACC's campus, I started getting a little emotional... unfortunately that usually means crying and hyperventilating... so after mentally yelling "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN!" I said hi to my dad, told him I loved him and kept running. Mom and Nick were up next cheering me on and taking photos. It meant a lot for them to be there for me. I saw them a few more times over the course of that two mile stretch.

At mile 18, I began traversing gravel terrain on my way to Wildwood park. At this part it occurred to me that I've never made it this far in my life. Uncharted territory. I've heard many disaster tales of how much your body starts to hate you. I did a body check... I seemed okay. Keep running. I turned my first corner in the park and met one of the steep short hills... and saw tons of people who had started walking. I hate hills... but after running 18 miles, I wasn't going to let a little thing like that slow me down. So I did what any rational person would do... I charged. After cresting the hill and doing my mental endzone dance, I look ahead to the next segment of paved trail... Ohh crap... Here comes another short steep hill. Ohh hell no. If the first one didn't get me, the next one wasn't either. (What I failed to mention, was that from mile 17-20 I listened to Christina Aguilera "Fighter" on repeat... manual repeat because the stupid Nano and I don't understand each other.) Between miles 18-21 I passed many people walking up the hills... I ran every single one and didn't slow down and fade out. Booyah.

I got worried that my wingman would make it to the water stop around mile 22 to see what my "breakdown" looks like. He was eager to bask in my misery while I wallowed in pain. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. It also occurred to me that I had less than a 10k to go. I could finish that. It was steadily approaching Noon. People were slowing down and run/walking everywhere. It made me feel super fast as I blew by them (at my steady pace). The sun was starting to beat down overhead and towards mile 24 I began to feel it. My parents and brother drove by and I hear whoops coming from the car. I laugh and push on. By mile 25 I see the bridge. The key to my salvation is at the end of that bridge. I looked upon it from the river path like it was the gate to Heaven. Once I climbed the ramp up to begin my trek (kick??) across, I don't even notice my family cheering me on. I've got tunnel vision and I'm running towards the light. I did a double check and made sure I wouldn't have a finisher pic with a kid running beside me or a jogging stroller... Eww.. guy with hot pink shirt... need to pass him. I high-fived my wingman and two little boys in the last .2mi. I felt like a champion. Not because I finished fast, but because I kept my promises and finished. 4:00:44.45 with six weeks of "training" and 1x16mi run.

This morning I woke up and stretched out... ooohhh... things feel weird. Not terrible but weird. Granted, I was laying down and no weight was on my feet. I could make it through the day. No problem. I'd show my wingman that I'm one tough cookie. Then I put my feet on the floor and tried to stand up... by attempt three I was on my feet. I pulled my socks off in the middle of the night and left them on the floor beside my nightstand. I reached to pick them up and couldn't make it. I considered leaving them but knew it would drive me crazy later. My heels weren't bending so I lowered myself <cough, cough> daintily to the floor. I scooped up the socks and gracefully <cringes> rocked myself back to a some-what standing position. I consider a shower and threw that idea out the door. Getting in the tub was not happening. (I showered 12 hrs before, stop judging me). The walk into work could only be described as a Quasimodo-Robot. I was hobbling on unsteady knees. I knew that I'd be heckled but I didn't care. I'd earned my Quasimodo-Robot walk.

I've laid out my training plan for my next marathon. When I approach the starting line in DC, I'll have put the work in. It'll be my speedy run that I was hoping for. With any luck I'll BQ and feel like a mixture of Rocky and Shalane Flanagan. If I work the next one as hard as I worked this one and put the time in training, I'll welcome the Quasimodo-Robot. It'll be well earned. Bring it DC.

Taking a Stand Against the Slump

It's easy to fall into a slump; one day off can turn into two. Oh its raining?!? I'll skip today. Hurricane?That means a week off right?!? I was a victim to the Hurricane slump this week, taking three days off... in a row. Being weak willed at the moment, I feel the only way to win the battle of the slump is to simply never stop. Through the month of November, I vow to do something every single day. If I need to take a day off of running, I'll cross train, take a class, or lift. I'll make an appearance in the gym no matter what. I'm making this commitment to focus on training, to be the best I can be. Next year I want to find my fast. The only way to get there is to work for it. Sweat, every damn day. Let's do it.

Finding My "Greatness"

The new Nike campaign has challenged everyone to find their "greatness".  There was a point in my life where I believed that "greatness" was an elite concept where some people had it and some never would. To me greatness wasn't a choice. Greatness was an Olympian, race winners, endurance athletes; something you were genetically prone to. Average joe's certainly didn't make the cut. I never thought to myself, "You could be great." What I should have been thinking is "why not??".
My skewed view of "greatness" was probably a direct result of low high school/college self esteem. I was always average and middle of the pack, not being able to race well to save my life. After college I started running. Not training, running. I'd run for fun around town, losing myself in rhythmic footsteps and music. I began challenging myself to go an extra mile or take a hillier route. I rekindled my love of the sheer freedom you feel when losing yourself; its only by losing myself that I found my "greatness".
"Greatness"can't be quantified or defined. Its ever changing with loose limits and barriers that are meant to be overcome. My "greatness"will start with my current project and then explode! My passion for running will ignite my current limits and fuel my ambitions. I never thought I'd hit a slump so bad that I'd stop running for months. Now that I'm getting back on track, I never want to stop. Quitting isn't an option.
In the spring I signed up for a marathon. I told myself that I'd train to run a Boston qualifying time. Shortly after an injury, I became ill and thats when the wheels fell off and emotional wall caused my running to halt. I haven't ran more than 14miles consecutively all year. In the past six months, 13.5mi is the most I've gone out in a single shot. This is far from the "greatness" I had in mind this past spring but "greatness" changes. I've decided that my current "greatness" will be upholding promises. I signed up for the Harrisburg Marathon on November 11. Thats two weekends from now. I've been running for four weeks. Some of you are probably thinking, "Whoa! Don't be a retard and run something you haven't even remotely trained for." but I have to. I owe it to myself. Tomorrow I'm aiming for my first 16mi run this year. Next week I'll aim for a repeat and come November 11, I'll aim to finish. Yes, this is a faint version of my original goal but lets face it, there is no way I can hold a quick pace for a marathon right now. Quitting isn't the "greatness" legacy I want to leave behind.
Right now, I'm working on getting back into running shape. Right now my "greatness" is accomplishing this small feat. Later, my "greatness"will be running DC for a BQ. Greatness isn't failure, its the courage to keep trying. Bring it "greatness", I'm not longer afraid of you.

Update: I went out for an easy 16 with my wingman, Mr. 140.6, this morning. My projected finishing time in H-burg will be an embarrassing 4:30-4:40. With little preparation, its probably the best I can do. Step 1: Finish it. Step 2: Train Strong. Step 3: Run fast in DC!!! woot woot

My friday run with Shalane...

At 8am or so this morning I was going about my usual workday business, eating breakfast with the team and preparing for the meeting. I didn't know that today would be one for the books.

I was waiting for the meeting to start this morning with caffeine coursing through my veins and cereal warming my belly, seemingly content to make it through my Friday. I pull out my smart phone to pass the time and check the Friday status updates on Facebook. As I scrolled through the "TGIF"'s, I saw Shalane Flanagan's status update inviting anyone and everyone to join in on the afternoon run with Runner's World editors and staff... today... at 3pm. At this point I'm looking outside, seeing the rain and the lack of sunshine and I'm thinking... "That sounds pretty neat... if only there was sunshine..."After the usual safety hubbub, I get to thinking.... its raining now, but what about later? So I check the weather. Huh, sunshine around three pm. Cool. Now the juices are flowing. I look at "Mr. 140.6" sitting next to me and casually mention that we could be running with Shalane Flanagan this afternoon and not working. Just saying... time for meeting two.

After the second safety meeting I decide that its only the normal thing to do; take off work, burn half a vacation day and run with an Olympian. Typical Friday. No big deal. So I emailed my boss and told him that I needed to take a half day to go run with an Olympian. "Mr. 140.6" was easily persuaded to be my wingman. Things were falling into place. I go back to my apartment to put on matching Nike running clothes (you know, since she's sponsored by Nike), pull out my fly-est running kicks, and braid my hair. Can't look like a chump when you're running with Shalane... right?!? The only normal thing to do at this point is pull out my Nike running sunglasses and paste a smile on my face. These glasses my eclipse the twinkle in my eye but hey... Nike. At this point I'm ready to do this... now all I have to do is wait for my ride, an hour from now. I sit down on the couch; shoes laced up, water bottle in hand, staring at the clock. I get up, I sit down, I go check on random things... I walk my dog. Okay... time to go.

Like most people, I didn't want to be the first person to descend upon a celebrity. I just wanted to play it cool. To achieve this, I let "Mr. 140.6" ask her for a photo and I stepped into it. (See below) I said my thank you's and moved on. Shew, that was close. Didn't want to blow that one. Goal one of the day was now accomplished. On to goal two: Beat Shalane in a run.

Today's run was just a shake out run, an easy go before the weekend running festival races. (If you're bored and in the area: http://rw.runnersworld.com/rwhalf/). The initial pace was a daunting 10:30 shuffle at best. Shalane was ahead. Crap, already failing. They urged us to keep it slow. Today we aren't heroes. We're runners just stretching our legs before we take on the field this weekend. Stealth will be required for goal 2. Casually, I open my stride and eat up the distance between us. At this point, its the world championships and I'm passing on the right. She still doesn't know what's going on but I'm ahead and I maintained it, champion.

I don't drown everything out while accomplishing this goal, no I eaves drop. Taking notes from the best. Shalane mentioned to someone (unknown, I was ahead and couldn't see behind me) that she runs her base pace around 6:50 or so. If you run, you know that base pace isn't race pace... This tiny woman runs her marathon at about a 5:33min/mi pace. Just for a state of reference: my fastest 5k was ran at 6:36min/mi pace. This woman can run 23.1mi further and much faster than my 3.1mi race pace. If that doesn't blow you away, she's only 5'5" (probably on her tiptoes) and weighs just over 100lbs soaking wet. Where does the power come from?!? I have no idea. But its aw inspiring.

I think next week I'll go out and try to find my inner Shalane. Go out and find my fast. Bring it, today I beat Shalane. Maybe tomorrow, I'll aim to beat you and maybe I'm talking to you, Mr. 140.6. Keep Calm and Run On.

Pay It Forward.

An email popped up in my inbox today looking for race volunteers for the Runner's World 5k/10k on Saturday. After a few minutes of thinking "dear god... 5:30am is early", I registered. The Hershey Half Marathon is Sunday, so I'll be leaving for Hershey early Saturday afternoon but I thought about my favorite races. The one thing every great race has, is excellent volunteers. These people sacrifice hours of their weekend to help fuel the energy and excitement of the race. Without the help of volunteers, these events wouldn't be possible and I'd never find out if I had the mettle to medal. I'm giving back to pay it forward. So thanks to all the volunteers and community members who cheer during those long races. Anyone want to get up Saturday?!? No?? Don't worry... I'll be there making sure someone's first race, is their favorite race.

For Love and Chocolate

It's always hard to get moving after months of inactivity. A long run could hurt in places you forgot you could feel, lifting makes you hurt everywhere, and all of this exercise creates an overwhelming sense of fatigue. Two weeks ago I only logged maybe 22mi. The entire month of September, I may have logged a total of 85mi. Last week I ran 44.35mi. This week I've put it over 33 mi (plus whatever I run today). You may be saying to yourself that I'm crazy, no one should increase their milage that much in a week. I know when I've been lazy and I know when I'm working it. 40 miles or so is working it but not overdoing it. I'm like a Clydesdale. I'm built for work and endurance, definitely not a show horse. By running 5-6days a week, I'm forcing myself to stay accountable. I bought a running dairy. I've starting running with people and registered for what I'll call "training-races". Baby steps may be the difference between staying motivated and letting the wheels fall off again.

Yesterday I participated in the Under Armor Baltimore Running Festival with a total of 27,000 runners.  Together with three other girls, we complete the marathon relay. I was responsible for about 7.3mi of the course. With the excitement of my fellow runners, I decided to cover two legs of the race. Those 13.27mi were exhilarating. Just being a part of the energy and camaraderie of the occasion was truly a moving experience. The energy from the strangers cheering on the streets and the runners focused on a common goal was contagious. I've never had the marathon itch so bad in my life. I can't wait to try my hand at it in March. For now though, I'm going to focus on baby steps.

Next Sunday I'm running a "training-race". I'll be running my third Hershey Half Marathon. I won't be tapering for this, it'll be built into my regular schedule serving as a really, really fun run... with chocolate. Who could say no to that?!? I've been with this race since its inaugural event, so obviously I can't. Have no fear, they don't hand out the big candy bar until the end. I'll have to work for it. Next weekend, I run for love and chocolate. Wish me luck.

A New Beginning

In five weeks, I embark on a journey of self discovery; a journey that will be paved in sweat, blood, and perseverance. Dating back to the time of the Greeks, the marathon has become almost a right of passage for most runners, a testament to find out if you truly have the mettle to medal. Anyone can run a 5k but the marathon requires a hardened, seasoned athlete to finish. Training for a marathon is masochistic and I'm catching the sickness.

I've never been a great runner. When I line up at the start of a race, you'd never pick me out as someone to watch for. I'm tall and bulky for a runner and at times in my life, I've even been in the heavy weight class. Regardless of my physical appearance, in my chest beats a runner's heart, my legs feel that itch to stretch and move, and I "get it" when a New Balance commercial plays. I am a runner and its time to find out if I have the mettle. In five weeks, I'll begin the Hansons-Brooks Distance Project. 19 weeks later I'll be running the DC Rock and Roll Marathon. It won't be luck pushing me across the finish line in March, it'll be hours of sweat, blood, and sheer determination. No luck about it, I'll be prepared and ready to give it everything I have. 

This year has been a tumultuous journey with continuous set backs. I'm ready to overcome anything thrown my way. They say a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step...  I'm lacing up my shoes and giving it every step I have. Many of these steps will be run solo. With the support of great friends and family, I'll never be running alone. Bring it.