Marine Corps Marathon: Epic Cheer Squad version

NDH came to town to rock out the end of his Rocktober, running 4 marathons in 4 weeks (or, actually 23 days he points out).

I picked him up from Rosslyn on Saturday, and so began what will be one of the most sanfu-riddled two days I think I've experienced.  Thanks to NDH (and at times me too) for keeping his cool and rolling with it all.  Roadblocks included, it was still a fun weekend!  I'm not nearly as good at writing recaps to races, but here is my (lengthy) account of how the MCM weekend went down for me.

The short version is, Nathanael ran a fantastic race, I had a wonderful day cheering him and other runners on throughout the city of DC, my phone died, there were some metro complications, and meeting up at the end of the race was tricky - for the more dramatic details and some photos, read on!

We decided to go immediately to the marathon expo for packet pick up, and from there we'd do lunch.  Let's call this "mistake #1". We arrived to the Armory to see lines of people, lines of people circling other lines of people, followed by more lines of people.  We ended up in that line for almost 90 minutes, trying to get through to simply pick up the race number.  Then there were more lines to get in to the expo.  I'm still not entirely sure what the problem was, but I know this was not the MCM original plan for how the expo would go.  By the time we were done with that, and found ourselves a Subway to eat lunch, it was 4pm.  Not ideal for pre-race day meal planning.  Particularly when we left lunch to head over to DuPont circle for NDH's St Jude Charity Team's pasta dinner at 5pm.  Even though the timing was all off for this, I was really glad that we got to go.  We sat with some nice women, made small talk, and got to hear from some St. Jude's families. Besides being a little emotional, I think this was a nice way to refocus some of the stress that the rest of the day had introduced.  From here we finally made it to N's hotel by around 7, so that he could start to prepare, make a logistical plan, and get to bed.  

Once I left him, happily watching the Sox game, I had a few more "Epic Cheer Squad" stops to make before getting home, and devising my own logistical plan!  Shout out to CNHB who helped with some last minute interpretations of the rules. (Turns out, we were wrong though!)

I woke up on Sunday morning, a little sleepy, but was quickly ready to go thanks to some pre-outfit selection the day before. I agreed to wear N's new white Chicago hat and my BAA Boston Marathon bright orange windbreaker for easiest spot-ability! N was all decked out in blue and maroon, and on his way to the Charity tents to meet his team. I drove over to his hotel, probably 45 minutes after he left, parked, and made my way to my Mile 2 spot. N definitely didn't NEED to see me at mile 2, but it was an easy place for me to get to, and would be a fun spot for me to get to see all the lead runners, which I was able to do!! I remember thinking that I was glad to have brought my phone charger (I brought the one working cord I have, the wall charger, and the car adapter - mostly because I accidentally took it out of my car with me), although my phone was still at a healthy 95% by now.

I pulled out my signs and cowbell and got ready for the runners to come. However, when I picked up my cowbell I noticed that sadly, it was already broken, and missing the clacker inside.  A few minutes later and I had MacGuyvered the bell with an old house key, and was ready to make some noise! I saw N come up,  all smiles and looking great.  Save for the guy in front of him who tried to steal his high-five (I'm pretty sure high-fives are not a limited resource, though), this is probably the best race interaction N and I will have all day, at least from my standpoint. I stayed here for a little while, took some more photos, chatted with the spectators.

It was at this point as I was getting everything loaded back in to my back pack that I am vaguely aware of someone shouting "Charm City, Charm City, Who are you?"  I realize, slowly, that I am wearing a sweatshirt that has a charm city logo on the back and a runner is trying to get my attention.  When I turn she says "are you with Charm City?" And I struggle to answer.  I run with them, or did until the running group ended when everyone ran the Baltimore Marathon. And also, I no longer live in Baltimore.  But, also, I am not an employee there.  After a small pause, I say "No", at almost the same time she throws me her long sleeved shirt asking if I can get it to them for her.  And she's off. And, I now have her shirt!  I was able to contact one of my friends who is a store manager at Charm City, who told me they didn't even have a tent at the end of this race.  I was sure that there was no way this was going to work out, but I ran in to someone else wearing a Charm City shirt and tried to pawn my unwanted responsibility to her.  Turns out, she knew the person running, and happily took the shirt.  Problem solved.  Let's call this "helpful moment #1" for the day!

As I went to update the rest of Team NDH via text, my phone shut itself off.   A moment of panic, before I just asked a pleasant looking spectator to point me in the direction of the metro, and I was off to figure this out.  I spied a coffee shop near the metro, so I ducked in, plugged my phone in and used the restroom. After about 15 minutes my phone was safely to 60%, and I was off to Foggy Bottom, where I was pretty sure I would almost miss NDH at mile 10 at this point.

When I got off the metro I had finally gotten the first 10K text message about N's progress, and doing some quick math I realized that I was not too late.  I broke in to a sprint to get from the metro stop to the mile 10 race course location, and made it with maybe 10 minutes to spare.  I was standing next to a little girl who asked her dad "Why does she (meaning me) get a bell and I don't?"  So, I turned to her and asked her if she'd like to "help me cheer for the runners and ring this bell for a little while?"  I made sure to tell her dad that the bell had my key in it and I would, unfortunately, need it back!  She seemed happy for a few minutes, until she started asking when her mom was going to get there already?!  At this point the 3:15 pace group went by and her dad said "the next set of balloons and we'll see mommy!" The little girl was not nearly as impressed as I was, so I told her that she should "ring your bell really loud, because you're mommy is doing AWESOME!"  From then on she periodically yelled out "My mommy is doing awesome!"  I felt like my work at Mile 10 was almost done!  And then I saw N kickin' it around the corner.  He was looking fast, not surprisingly, and I got a thumbs up, got some good cheering in, and he threw his gloves off for me to take.  And then he was gone.  I managed two shots of him running all day, from behind, because he's too fast for me!

After he goes by, I know I have time.  It's about 2 miles for me to get to mile 19, and 9 miles for him.  I can beat him for sure!  So I meander along, past the memorials, stopping to see the Marine Corps band, and following the race course at various points. My phone is currently down to about 14% and so I switch it to airplane mode, and put it in my pocket.  Consulting my paper course map I know that I need to cross the course a few times to be in position at mile 19, for easy access to the metro I will be using to race N to mile 23. While making my way there I am on the lookout for any power source I can find.  I happen to be crossing the course at mile 15, and see one of the pace groups slightly ahead of N come through.  I decide to hang out (on the wrong side of the course, N and I had agreed on the left) and surprise him at mile 15!  I see him coming, in the lead line of the 3:35 pace group, a group that he was slightly in front of earlier. I am instantly concerned that he will think I am skipping out on mile 19 (emergency bean hand off) and am unsure of what to do!  I scream for him, jumping and cheering.  I get a mildly excited thumbs up, and then I think to yell "I'll see you at mile 19!!" and get a thumbs up response!  Great communication team!  And I'm headed to mile 19.

This part of the course is confusing, because it loops back on itself, and I'm having trouble rectifying the direction of the runners with the spot on the course.  I ask several spectators and police officers along the way, and there is not a strong consensus that we know where we are.  In fact, one officer definitely tells me to head the complete wrong direction.  I'm glad that there are so many large visual cues on the mall to make me confident I was heading the right way - I just didn't know where along the course I was!  I find a short cut up to mile 20, and I watch some people starting out their "beat the bridge" endeavor.  This course has a bridge that reopens to traffic at a certain time.  Runners must be across the bridge by that time, or they are instantly shuttled to the end (and will not complete the course or receive a medal).  I know this aspect of a marathon does not even register on N's mind, but these cutoffs are generally my biggest anxiety producers.  I am slow enough to sometimes wonder if I will make it.  So, I enjoyed the stress-free attitude of the front-running speedsters who had beaten the bridge by 5 or so hours!  Strong work runners!

I have no pictures from this part of my day, because my phone has now died and there are no public outlets along the mall.  I find my way to mile 19, and make sure I know exactly where the metro stop that I will need is.  I try and position myself adequately where I have 1.) easy access to the course, 2.) some visibility of runners coming 3.) convenient and fast exit to the metro station 4.) far enough beyond the food stop that is unfortunately at mile 19 and 5.) not so close to mile 20 that N will spend an entire mile wondering if I've ditched him.  I successfully find a near perfect spot, and am only there waiting for a short time.  The crowd here is cheerful, but less talkative than at the other spots.  I see the 3:35 group come and go, and am on the lookout for N.  As he approaches there is some confusion with a nearby runner, as I think N tries to navigate his way to the sideline.  I decide I can run along with N for a second to make bean hand off easier, and not force him to stand and talk to me.  As I start doing this, N asks if we can walk for a second, and I can see that he's having a rough time.  He's completely soaked with sweat, but freezing.  I will berate myself for the next 45 minutes for not offering him my windbreaker, telling him that he can just toss it when he's done with it.  He does not want the beans, and he's feeling pretty low.  I know that place, and I try and talk him out of it, but I'm not doing a great job at it.  He decides to run off, and I leave feeling like I've failed at my one job, to cheer him, because he was not more cheerful when he left.  I turned around, and ran as fast as I could back to the spot where I had mistakenly left my backpack on the ground.  I am filled with fear, not of it being stolen, but that everyone around me will think I am some crazy person leaving a bag at the side of a marathon with evil-intent.  In a course of events that will play out several times for the rest of the day, when I am reunited with my bag it is apparent that I was the only one who was moderately stressed or even aware of this problem, but I will dwell on it for some time.

I'm estimating N at 8:30 splits now, and he has 4 miles to get to mile 23 where I'd like to see him next.  That's a short 34 minutes, and I've got a 4 stop metro ride.  I hustle to L'Enfant Plaza, and realize that there is a food court/mall section, and I decide to seek out one more outlet and use a restroom.  I will regret this decision for hours as well.  But, I find a restroom, plug my phone in and get it back to 20%.  Another update to Ns family and some pictures, and I'm rushing back towards the metro.  While on the train I see the runners crossing the bridge, and am hopeful that N is on it.  Even though logic and math tell me he must be well beyond the bridge now.  I try to use this time wisely, checking my map to make sure I know which way I need to take off running to catch him.  I'm extra concerned to meet him now, having seen the low at mile 19, I really don't want to miss him.  I don't want him looking for me, or worse needing the beans he refused, or wanting to hand off his hat, or otherwise needing something I should have been there to do.  I remember vividly mile 23 in both Baltimore and Nashville, and neither are a happy place for me.  We arrive at Crystal City and I am off, running up the escalator, sprinting down the street to the course.  I ask the first spectator I see "have you seen a pace group come by?" He gives the best answer of the 4 people I ask here and says "3:45 came by about 5 minutes ago."  If he's right I've missed N by about 10 minutes, and need to think quickly.  I rush back to the metro more determined than ever to make it to mile 26, to at least cheer him in.  But, the metro says  that the next train is 20+ minutes away.  This won't do.  I speak to the station manager to have her let me out (my metro card is currently tagged as "in" and I can't exit the same station) and I'm back to the street with a plan of getting outside the race course and either finding a cab, getting to the end on foot, something faster than waiting 20 minutes.  But, miles 22 and 23 create a rectangular space, and the Crystal City metro stop is dead center.  And here, at this point, there is absolutely no crossing the course at all.  But, it takes me about 10 minutes of sprinting in all directions like a pinball in a pinball machine to realize there is no way out.  As I am about to give up I see someone on the course, on the far side of the road, has collapsed and is on the ground.  Someone is with him and trying to help, but it's unclear to me whether the situation is under control.  It appears the helping runner could use some extra hands.  I yell over to ask if they need more help, but he seems too busy to answer, so I decide on the answer for him.  I quickly find a marine, who calls to the nearest aid station and assures me that someone will be on their way to take care of it.  And, I head back into the Crystal City station, and sit with a billion other people on a metro bound for Rosslyn.  With a once-again dead phone.

The metro is mobbed, people are going in every direction, trains are full, no one is cooperating, and everyone is in a rush to get somewhere.  It's near complete chaos. Once I'm at Rosslyn I see all the gear check trucks, plenty of finishers laying on the ground stretching, sleeping, recooping, and I spy a coffee shop.  I duck in, plug my phone in at a corner outlet, leave my bag under the watchful eye of a stranger and head to the restroom and buy myself a drink.  This takes about 10 minutes, and when I get to my phone it is still off.  As if nothing has happened.  I wait a little longer, impatiently, and after 20 total minutes in a few outlets, nothing has happened.  I head off to find the Charity Hill Tent where N is.  I see some white tents and a sign that says Charity Street and I ask at the first one if this is the only place where charity tents are located, she says "yes" (she's wrong) and I ask where the St Jude's tent is, she says "they don't have one" (she is wrong again).  I find another tent that has accurate information, where I learn that the charity hill is almost as far away as possible, that I can't get there with my back pack, and that in her outlet (which is known to work) my phone still won't work.  I decide that wandering around, what is now easily 45 minutes after NDH has finished without a phone, and without knowing where he really is is a TERRIBLE idea.  This woman allows me to use her phone and I send a typo-riddled email (who knows how to type on an android anyway) to N, CNHB and SMB, and tell them that I'm trying to get a hold of N, my phone is not working, and I'm not sure I should wander around looking for N without being able to get in touch with him.  I say that I am located at the gear check truck #7 and N should come find me.  I also realize this is not an adequate solution, but I move on.  I find a second generous stranger, and I call my mom (one of the few cell phone numbers I know by heart) and am able to speak to my dad to ask him to try and get N's phone number so that I can call back in about 10 minutes and he can give it to me.  If my brain were less panicked I'd have remembered that my mom has a whole slew of phone numbers from Nashville that would be useful. But, my brain is full of "why didn't you give him your jacket", "how bad was it that you weren't at mile 23", "is he as disappointed as you were that no one was there at the finish", "is that guy who collapsed ok", "how have you made it all morning without eating", "why is my phone broken"?  What seems like an eternity later, I find another stranger who will let me use their phone, and I call my dad back.  he has N's number, and I feel like the day might be saved.  I manage to call N, and tell him that it will take me forever to get to him, and I may not be able to get there because of my backpack, but that I'm on the way.

I fight crowds, fences, wrong turns, misinformation, and the kindness of a Marine who helps me to disguise my backpack (after he hand checked it himself) so that I can enter the Charity Hill area, and I arrive to the St. Judes tent to some cheers from people who had been waiting with N.  I was so happy to see him, and so proud of the way he finished Rocktober!!  And still, feeling terrible for the way the day ended.  But, it's not over yet.  An hour later, after being stuck inside a military base with no obvious exit, seeing our hotel from the wrong side of a fence that we can't climb over, and crossing a few high ways on foot, we are finally back to my car and Ns suitcase. Out of habit I plugged my phone car charger into my car, and instantly hear the little bing noise indicating that my phone has turned on.  I resist the urge of throwing the phone out the window right then.

In what is hopefully the last misstep of the day, every way out that we want to take from Arlington is closed, and we end up heading east through the city to take 495 the long way home to Bethesda.  Some major traffic reminds both of us that we are starving, and yelp finds a perfectly acceptable sports bar where we catch the end of the Pats game, enjoy some deliciously fried foods and sandwiches, and I am finally able to buy the runner his celebratory beer!  4 hours too late!

NDH is a rockstar runner, who kicked October's ass.  And, was a super sport to handle my lackluster cheer abilities as the day's events got completely out of my control.  I think he went home happy, I'm still a bit traumatized!!

You're not you when you're hungry

The first time I really tried this new "meal plan" was during the September 1st NCR 20-miler.  20 miles is always a tough distance for me.  Mentally, it just seems so long.  And well, physically, it just seems so long.  That morning I drove out to the finish area, just north of Baltimore, and met up with a few friends from my running group.  There we boarded buses out to the start - as this was a straight shot race.  On the bus one of my running friends said, "For as long as this bus ride is I just keep thinking, we have a long way to run back!"  And it was true, that ride went on FOREVER!  I began the morning nervous, to say the least.

The NCR is a "trail" in the rails-to-trails program throughout Maryland (and beyond), and as such it's not a trail winding through the woods, crossing streams and tree roots.  It is a packed gravel, wide, mostly flat dirt road.  And, while it was through the woods and there were some scenic views, it was mostly boring.

We started just after 8am, and the beginning of the course was flat, downhill, and under much tree cover.  That's more than I can say for the last few miles.  I began slowly, trying to not kill myself on this run.  I was using it more as a training run, and not a race (I had a race the following weekend, Bird-In-Hand) and I didn't want to make that more difficult. I also started early on the "meal plan".  The first 10 or so miles flew by, and very quickly the next mile became difficult.  Mentally, I was struggling too, as I kept thinking, you're only half way there.  When I start thinking like this I know it's going to be a long race.  It was at this point that my left hand tapped my left side and I felt something magical.  I had more chews that I had not finished.  This was a welcome distraction from what was happening, so I gladly pulled open the package and popped a 3rd chew in my mouth. I spent the next mile or so trying to talk to myself rationally.  I know a thing or two about cognition (I have a PhD in the subject) and I realized that perhaps, maybe, it might be the case, that when I'm under-fueled my brain has a difficult time escaping the dark places that running can take you. That maybe, the next time I start to think bad and difficult thing, I should check that stash on my hip and see if I've got more snacks to eat.  This is not to say that eating a chew has any instantaneous effect, it doesn't.  But, the distraction of discovering them sometimes is enough to knock me out of that train of thought.  And for sure, the distraction of eating something is welcome.  And, the added calories kick in relatively soon there after.  This is precisely the opposite of what I've been doing for years.  When my internal monologue got hairy, I'd retreat farther from doing anything useful for myself.  Because, a bag of jelly beans is not going to move the finish live closer.

While the NCR 20-miler was still hard, did I mention that the last 3 miles were out of the shade cover, 90+ degrees, and the first hills on the whole course.  It was a brutal ending. But, I noticed something new in my attitude.  Namely, I didn't think I was terrible.  I was chipper.  At one water stop around mile 17 I chatted with a guy as I filled up and he said "do you know how far we are?" and I said, "about mile 17!" The look on his fact showed some defeat, and he admitted "It seems so close, but still so far."  I pointed out that "We've already done 3 miles over 6 times already that morning, what's one more time!" He took off, and I stopped to stretch my legs a little.  I was a little surprised at my ability to talk that guy out of his slump, and I wondered why my internal voice wasn't so thoughtful.  A few minutes later I passed the same guy, and as I went by he thanked me for putting things into perspective for him and told me how helpful it'd been.  No kidding, dude, for me too!

Mile 19.5 sticks in my mind, we were on the road now, winding into the shopping area where the finish line was set up. It was hot, I was 19.5 miles tired, and we turned around this corner to see this really steep hill.  I know for a fact, any other day I would have walked up that hill.  I would have been close to the end, this was one of the last obstacles, and I'd have told myself it was ok to walk up it, to save something so I could run across the finish line.  I would have convinced myself that I'd never make it anyway if I tried to keep running. But that morning, the voice inside my head was a little more encouraging and said "You've done this THIRTY-NINE times today, you can do it one more time, and then you can sit." As I thought this to myself, a particularly empowering song came on my iPod, and a friendly neighborhood woman was seen cheering from the end of her driveway, the shopping bags from her morning's errands still in her hands. I ran up that hill and in to the finish line, and for the very first time, I didn't feel like I was bad at it.

I finished that day at a very modest 4:15, nothing record breaking.  But, I did what I set out to do.  I ran 20 miles, without killing myself.  But the fueling victory was huge.  After grabbing my snacks I sat on the ground in the parking lot for a long time, because I felt I'd earned it!

The art of fueling

There are many methods for how to fuel during a long run, but an easy metric is about 100 calories for every hour of work, or (for me) every 5 miles. This can be translated to about 500 calories during a marathon distance.

Backing up, sometime in June my running group was running an 18 mile run, and I totally bonked out. In grand fashion.  I walked the last 2 miles, because I was so light headed I thought I might actually fall down. I felt terrible, and my recovery from that run was brutal. I maybe didn't feel right for a full 36 hours. It was the first run over 15 miles for this training period, and while it was a particularly stressful week for me (eating, sleeping, stress levels were all issues), I began to be concerned that perhaps I just didn't have it in me this time around. So, I drafted an email to my running coach, detailing my problems and concerns, and asking for some honest opinions.  Her response "let's talk about your fueling methods?"  And as I thought about what my "method" is, I realized I had none.  I always had beans or chews with me. And I took some in the beginning.  But, as my runs went on and got tough, I'd forget.  Or more, deem it unneeded.  It's like if you owe $2,000, does $20 really seem like it's going to be helpful?  No.  I felt similar, if this is already being so tough, is a little jelly bean going to help?  No.

I was probably taking in between 100-200 calories for a marathon length run.  This is well under the 500 that some people say, which is a lower estimate compared to some other suggestions.  My coach decided that this is what I needed to focus on.  And so I tried.

I'm much more math/science than art/literature, and so instead of "do what feels right" I decided I needed a strict plan. I needed something to fall back on when the miles got hard, something concrete to focus on for those time I'd feel like I couldn't do anything.  So I read several peoples suggestions, I talked to some better informed runners, and I planned out my running "meal plan".  And, here's what I've come up with!

Step 1 is always to package everything into 100 calorie servings.  I prefer to save the small bags that the jelly beans come in, because they are easy to shove in to my belt. I will repackage the shot blocks, power bars new chews, and small bites of either clif or power bars. And now, my plan is as follows:

mile 4: take a bag of sports beans from the belt, and eat a few.  Place the unfinished bag of beans on the side zip cord of my running belt.  Finish this bag before crossing mile 6. (100 calories)

mile 8: take a bag of shot blocks (approx. 3 blocks) and eat one. Place the unfinished bag on the side cord and finish it all before mile 10. (100 calories)

mile 10: take a salt pill!  These things have been great!

mile 14: Here it gets tricky.  It depends on the day and how I'm feeling, but it's either back to beans or more shot blocks. If I feel like I can handle the beans I take these now, as it is the last time I'll be able to all race.  If not, I take more shot blocks.  These get finished before mile 16. (100 calories)

mile 18: This is where I break out the power bar chews, because they are less sweet.  At this point in the race I can no longer have jelly beans.  I can marginally have the shot blocks. These chews get finished before mile 21. (100 calories)

mile 20: depending on the day, another salt pill!

mile 23: Those small bites of power bars get moved to my side zip cord. Eat in case of emergency! (Or rather, in case of self-doubt!) (maybe 100 more calories)

This has me consuming 4-500 calories and 1 or 2 salt pills.  Which is way more than I was doing before.  I wasn't sure how much of an effect this would have, and then I started using it on long runs and races....

(how's that for a cliff hanger)

The Road to Savannah: Working on a mystery, going wherever it leads

I’ve run more this year than I ever have.  Not just in any year, probably all the years combined.  And maybe double that.  But the weird thing, it doesn’t seem that weird.  I honestly wonder what I did with my life when I wasn’t running through it. How on earth did I pick my next trip, if it wasn’t because of the next race I’d be running. What a sad little life I must have had!

People ask me all the time why I run so much, or when I’ll take a break, or how do I get up every Saturday or squeeze in evening runs when I’m busy. The truth is, there are some hardcore, dedicated, super runners out there – and I’m just not one of them. I do run. I do run a long run every Saturday. Except for the Saturdays that I don’t. I run hill runs and I run tempo runs, except for when I don’t. Sometimes I opt to stay in. Sometimes I opt for 3 miles instead of 5, or 7 instead of 9, or 14 instead of 18. But, more often than not, lately, I get out there.

Along the way this year I’ve learned some things about myself and running. I am not a short distance runner. I hate three miles. Sometimes I hate five. Sometimes it takes me 40 minutes to really find my groove. Sometimes I don’t find it. But I will never settle in and feel satisfied or happy with a short run. Those will leave me feeling uncoordinated, tired, and on the edge of inury. I am at my best when I’m out there for the long haul.  Knowing this has made those short runs easier to handle.

I’ve learned that I need to drink more water. As I type this my water bottle sits by my desk, half full from the only time I filled it today – so I’m going to get up, finish it on the way to refill it.  I need to drink more water. A lot more. Always.

I also need to eat better. When I have a week where I’ve had time to carefully think out my meals, or say, have meals, my runs are so much better. Same with sleep.  When I’ve slept, my runs are better. Understanding these things has made the bad runs easier. I am not a bad runner – I am a bad water-drinker, eater, and sleeper. Somehow, I have an easier time accepting those flaws in myself.

As with other aspects of my life, there is a race-day routine, and I find comfort in it. I wake up at least an hour before I have to leave the house. There are a variety of preventative type meds that are consumed, water, dog walk (if I have her with me), peanut butter, banana. My favorite socks (and I only have one pair of these), and I generally have a preference for running shirt. I have my water belt, and tiny bottles of frozen water. I have my jelly beans, and shot blocks, and power bar chews. I have my phone, and my headphones, and my hat (that’s new this year, but it stays). I affix my running number to my right upper leg. If I have a shoe tag, that goes on the left shoe. I have three bobby pins. But, what I’ve learned this year is, I don’t need three bobby pins, or my favorite socks, or that running shirt. I remember a run in Austin where I got down to Town Lake for 8 miles, and realized I didn’t have my watch. And I went home. It wasn’t an excuse, really, I really did not think I could run without my watch. And while, I’d still prefer to know my times and paces, I think I could stick it out without much panic. I could manage with a new pair of socks, or luke warm water. I could do this having been up for only 30 minutes prior to leaving, or with chunky peanut butter and not creamy. (I’m not sure I could do it with my race number pinned anywhere but my right leg, although I’m now looking at pictures where my race number was pinned to my shirt and I don’t seem to be hyperventilating, so maybe even that’s possible). This year, I’ve learned to be more flexible. And more forgiving. Each day is different, each run is different, and I’m not out here to rule the world. I just like running.

So, in my mind, Savannah is like a final exam of sorts. Where I can prove to myself that I am a better person. And I can get out of my head and enjoy a run. My body can take my mind along for a ride, and run a marathon that even a turtle would be proud to be a part of. And, for the love of god, if I rip open a chocolate milk container and spill it all over myself after crossing the finish line, this time I will simply ask for another instead of bursting in to tears!

Bring it, Savannah! No one’s nervous!

The Road to Savannah: It was the turtle who won that race...

I’m not going to be winning any races any time soon. My July race was a small half marathon in Easton, MA. There were 300 runners in the half, and I finished faster than 3% of those people.  Yes, that puts me in the bottom 10 people. And, ostensibly, I’m ok with that. I still ran it. Someone has to be last, one day it might be me. Do I love being at the back of the pack, no! Does being at the back of the pack offer me some anxiety that front-of-the-pack runners don’t have to deal with, yes! Do I routinely have to fight with the notion that some people will think I'm not as dedicated as fast people, yes! But, it’s a spot I’ve learned to accept.

I don’t run to be fast. I tried to get fast(er) once. And I did. And in the process I broke down and was sidelined for the better portion of a year. On the heels of that, I realize that I value the ability to run races more than I value any hope of “winning”.  I love doing this, and I’d like to keep doing it for a long time. So, I don’t push to reach speed standards anymore.

I found this t-shirt the other day, and I love it
(not just because my dog is named Turtle!)

I often find myself apologizing for my (lack of) speed, or trying to make excuses for it. I'm always putting a caveat on the "Oh, so you're a runner" comments with an "I'm not that good" response. I hide my run/walk type of running style like a dark secret, I stare off to the side when people say with disdain "I saw this one guy walking..." and I cower in the corner when people talk about how they’d rather die than take more than 4 hours to finish a marathon. I shift my eyes downward when crossing paths with someone who is fast, dreading making eye contact for fear that I will see them looking at me and wondering why I’m even running.  But, then I remind myself that I'm out here, running, just like those fast guys. We all do our own thing to get across the finish line and get back out there the next day. We have our routines, our preferences, and they are our own. I don't run races for anyone else, and I don’t run to be fast.  

I run so I can unplug. I run so I can disconnect. I run because I am pushing myself to my own limits, not someone else’s. I run because it slows my brain down, which is often moving too fast and doing too many things. I run because it makes me feel strong, and determined. I run because it opens my eyes. I run because it makes me a kinder person. I run because it makes my head clearer. I run because it chases away the trials and tribulations of the day. I run because it connects me to the places I live. I run because runners are some of the most wonderful people I’ve met. I run because I am the absolute best version of myself when I am running. When I remember these things, the shame of running slow falls away.

I may not be fast, but I have become better. What I’ve learned through this year of running is to stop letting my mind control my body, and start letting my body control my mind. My mind tells me to stop some days before I even get going, but my feet just scream louder for my running shoes. My mind tells me I’m tired and can’t go any further, while my legs are singing look at us, we are going. My body is in control, shutting my mind down when it wants to be scared. I notice that it does not take the mental preparation for me to run 8, 9, 10, 15 miles. I was so sure my mind would talk me out of my very first 18-mile run that I hopped on a plane and ran that run in Boston (8 miles with NDH and then a pass off for the final 10 miles with CNHB and tiny Ebster!) 18-miles is not the same mental hurdle that it was. (22, 26, they still are a mental challenge), but I can see how far I’ve come since that first day I trained for a timed mile.

I've noticed this same effect on my personality off the road. Instead of reacting to things like an emotional illogical hot-mess, I'm slower, more thoughtful and hopefully a bit more purposeful. I find myself to be a bit more understanding of others, and their opinions/needs/ideas. I give myself time to process, and thoroughly think things through. I care less about the expected outcome, or preferred procedure, and I make choices based on what works for me. I've noticed that things which would have been a "hot-button" for me a year ago can slide by almost unnoticed these days. I have been banking a lot of energy that I used to spend worrying about endless things. It's a welcome, new-found freedom.

I joined a new running group, which I absolutely love, and have been running in the back of that pack. There are plenty of people who are much more talented at running than I am. But I won’t lie and say I didn’t love some of the facial expressions when early in the training season I told them that this would be my third marathon. And that I’ve run a half marathon every month so far this year. Yep, me, that girl huffing it out in back. What of it? We had a happy hour a few weeks back, combined with the half marathon training group. I spent some time talking to the half marathoners, and I remembered a similar day in Austin when I chatted with a marathon runner. I was in absolute awe of her, I could not comprehend what type of guts it must have taken her to set out one day and say, I’m going to train for 26.2 miles. I was in awe that she wasn’t already crying because she was about to go out on an 18 mile run, and what if she died out there! I was nearly crying for her.  I saw a similar look of disbelief on these half marathoners faces, as I told them of my first, second, and now third time training for a full marathon. I think the biggest disbelief was my own. There are many people who are much more accomplished at this than I am, but, it turns out along the way – I’ve become a runner. And I'm trying to stop making excuses, or placing a caveat on that. I am just a runner, it doesn’t matter my speed.

The Road to Savannah: In the Beginning

I remember the first time I joined a running group, and that first day we ran a timed mile. This was to figure out our paces, place us in groups and ultimately help to track our progress. I remember training for that day. For a mile. I remember being scared of it, what if I can’t run a mile? Will they kick me out? This first run with that running group sticks out in my mind to perfectly portray the anxiety and doubt and fear that I had about running. I trained for a mile, because I was unsure if I could finish it.

I don’t know when I started running, really.  It was in Texas for sure.  And I would run sporadically, randomly, without any knowledge or purpose or expectations. In writing this post I saw an email I sent to a friend in September of 2007, where I said I had “just started running distances” and went on to further say that I could “probably finish 3 miles, but not 5!” This was where my distance running started, my dreaded 3-mile slump. What little I knew about myself and running back then!

Early one morning, in February 2008, I went downtown to watch RO’D running in the Austin half. And it was amazing. The crowds, the runners, the strength and determination. I went home and I ran a few miles, totally inspired. And then, I forgot how it had felt that race day, and went back to my half-assed uninformed occasional running. It was sometime in 2008 that Ryan and I decided we were going to run the San Antonio rock and roll half marathon in November of that year. I downloaded a training plan, and I stared at numbers of 6, 7, 8, 10 miles. Holy holy holy crap.  And I put that training plan away. And I found a running group.

What’s so special about Savannah, and why is the road leading there?  It’s true, nothing really.  It’s not my last race of the year, it’s not my first marathon, it’s not a particularly challenging race or significant date, it hasn’t been a life goal of mine. Truth is, I signed up for the marathon in Savannah one night after having one too many Resurrections at a Brewer’s Art happy hour. I signed up for Savannah a mere week after telling someone in an email that I “may never run another marathon, that may not be my distance.”  Savannah will be my second full marathon this year, and only my third ever. That girl who started distance running with 3 but not 5 miles, she never wanted to run a marathon. She was content with the challenge that 13.1 miles posed, and she was content doing that only once in a while. She never wanted more. Until, the day she wondered if she could.

Cue the push to sign up for the Baltimore Marathon with NDH and VK for October 2011. At that point I had finished 3 (4?) half marathons, 4 10Ks, a few team triathlons, a mud run, and one Ragnar series relay race. I signed up for my first marathon with an overwhelming sense of dread and fear, and curiosity – could I even do this? I ran my first marathon to see if I could. And by some accounts, I did run it. It was slow, and painful. My goal was to finish, and I did. I felt proud and happy. But I didn’t necessarily feel I had done “my best” – there were many times I felt close to giving up, and worse there were times that I felt giving up would have been ok. I (eventually) wondered if I could do it better. Cue signing up for the Country Music Marathon in 2013 with NDH. Nashville was going to be different.  I was still scared, but of different things. I could finish – but could I finish well? Unfortunately, the ending of my Nashville race still plagues me to this day. I’m not talking about the time (I rarely do). But, I was so beat down by the end of that race. Not only had I lost confidence in my ability to run, I had convinced myself I was bad at it, by mile 26 I had convinced myself I was bad at most things in life. I still feel embarrassed when I think about sitting on the sidewalk alone, chocolate milk container spilled all over me, cold beer in my water-wrinkled hands, shivering from the cold that comes from being soggy wet for 7 hours, crying. Crying because my brain had told me that I had done so badly, and I believed it. I hate my brain for ruining that day for me. The truth about Nashville is I ran a 20-minute PR marathon through such torrential downpours that most people I know (save for the thousands of people who ran it) probably wouldn’t have started.  Moreover, I was on pace for an even bigger PR for much of that race. It was a proud accomplishment, but there I was crying over spilt milk and bruised egos.

I signed up for my third marathon, not to see if I could do it, and not to see if I could do it better, but I signed up for my 3^rd marathon to be better. Turns out, that girl who started running at 3 but not 5 miles, she’s learned something about herself and running. She’s a little bit stronger, even on her weakest days.

*If anything, this song reminds me of myself more than any one specific person, as I am often my own worst enemy - particularly the part about being tired of spinning my wheels. Particularly that part!

13 medals in '13: A half time report

It's been a busy 2013 so far, and as we come up on the half-way mark (which is also my birthday) I'd like to take a moment to look back at the first 6 months, and perhaps peek ahead to the next 6.

I'm not quite sure when the dream was born, nor am I sure when it became a reality, but here's the best account I can give for what has come to be my year of running. Admittedly, I wasn't terribly sad to ring out 2012 this past January. When laid out end-to-end 2012 probably had just as many ups and downs as every other year, but it somehow uncovered numerous questions and yet provided no answers. I'm fairly certain that my inability to run (without pain, if at all) from February until about September only made these problems worse.  By the end of the year, when I knew I was able to get back in it, races began popping up on my 2013 calendar.  First, Key West Ragnar (January), and then the Country Music Marathon in Nashville (April), and then the Austin Half Marathon (February).  At this point a seed was planted, find a March race and you'll have done four races in four months.  And from there, a running explosion!  I wasn't terribly vocal about it until about May, but by then I was so far in it that my goals were well known - a race a month, and 13 medals in '13.

For the numerical breakdown: As of June 2013, I have run 8 races, 6 distances with PRs at 4 (10K, half marathon, full marathon, and 14.6-miler*), run in 7 cities (Miami/Key West, Austin, DC, Nashville, Fredericksburg and Sterling, VA), and with the help of my amazing friends and family I was able to raise $1,187 for the Huntington's Disease Society of America - bringing my to-date total to $3,111 raised. Beyond that I've been able to see, run with, and be cheered along by numerous friends and family members. I've also had my fair share of "firsts" this year.  I ran my first ever trail race, a half marathon that really turned out to be 14.6 miles. My parents were able to watch me race for the first time. I ran my first race totally alone - showed up alone, started alone, ended alone, left alone.  I ran a half marathon with a two week period of no running prior to it, and did not feel (too) ill-prepared.

My 2013 races thus far have been: Key West Ragnar, beginning in Miami ending in Key West (January), Austin Half Marathon (February), DC Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon (March), Sole of the City 10K in Baltimore (April), Country Music Marathon in Nashville (April), The Color Run in Baltimore (May), the Historic Half Marathon in Fredericksburg, VA (May), and the North Face Endurance Challenge Trail Half Marathon in Sterling, VA (June).

More than just racking up the medals, each month I'm given a reminder of how truly fortunate I am. There are friends who watch my dog and feed my cat while I'm gone, and friends who offer up their homes (even when they can't be home themselves) and at times giving up their bed for the couch. Friends and family have gotten on planes and driven distances to cheer me on.  There are texts, and phone calls, and emails wishing me luck, cheering me along as I go, and asking for recaps when it's over.  Every month.  By any angle I look at it, normal people should be tired of hearing about this, they should roll their eyes when I bring up my latest training run or my next race.  But, my friends are amazing, and instead of tiring of the mundane details, they ask for them! Some of them are crazy enough to jump in and run with me when I need even more support than normal. There is no way I could keep doing this without all of the support I am fortunate to have! Each medal is a reminder of those friends, near and far. They remind me of eating dinner in a gas station and spewing luggage along side many Florida roads, of early jogs around Town Lake and post-race tacos at Wahoos, of mimosas at 18th Amendment, of country line dancing in our brand new boots and tackling the staircase in the Opryland Hotel, of the Luke Bryan concert...  These 13 medals come with some of my favorite memories ever!  I'd be remiss not to mention that these races have afforded me the ability to run with some of my favorite running buddies, most notably (and probably the only one to be reading this) is NDH. Thanks for being an inspiration, cheerleader, and race companion. I'll run a race with you anytime, Brub!

This year has also taught me to trust my own strengths.  Everyones strengths are different, and I have my own set.  They do not include speed.  They do include perseverance.  Each month I can feel easily that I have grown stronger, I recover faster, I ache less, my mind doesn't win over my body as often as it used to. And, when I'm not running I have developed this sense of calm that I never really thought existed. I have found a way to quiet the anxiety that my life otherwise throws at me. These are the reasons I keep going.

It seems almost apropos that the tragic events of the Boston Marathon happened during this, my year of running. I think any account of my year that didn't touch on this somewhat would be misleading. I have trouble saying that this day affected me, I know personally so many people who were more directly affected and in much more real and terrible ways than I was - I was not there, I did not see or hear or feel it, I haven't even made it to Boston since it happened.  But, this was my turf, my home town (almost too much my home town**).  I arrived to work on Marathon Monday wearing my 2012 BAA5K shirt, and my 2012 BAA Marathon jacket that I received for being an Elite Water Stop volunteer that year. I set up my laptop, and much to the annoyance of my co-workers I was giving a running stride-by-stride of what the lead pack in both the men's and women's races were doing. Once they finished, I was refreshing the tracking pages of my several friends who were running, and getting text updates from NDH awaiting their arrival at the finish line. I will claim to be one of the first people to know about the bombs going off, as I will never forget the few text messages that came in talking about explosions and police craziness, just before the seeming FOREVER radio silence. In retrospect, it was about 20-30 minutes where I was unsure just how involved NDH was in the mess and trying desperately not to think the worst. I knew he was near something terrible, but it was taking too long for the news to fill in the details, and the cell signals were not working to get the very important "I am safe and getting out of here" message out to anyone. It was a small drop of time in the grand scheme, but it's 20-30 minutes I don't need to re-live!  And then, along with the rest of the running community, I watched the horror unfold. Just when I could finally peel myself away from the news, reports of the city on lockdown as a manhunt for the bombers began.  A manhunt that would end a mere half of a mile from my Watertown apartment. The entire experience was surreal, and difficult to digest. But, I've never been more proud to be a part of the running community. Runner's everywhere united in a way I can barely describe, but it was immensely heart-warming, hugely cathartic, and has forever changed the way I approach running. Instead of feeling scared and alone, I felt like part of something nearly unbreakable. As tragic and terrible as the events of April 15th 2013 in Copley Square were, the outcome reaffirmed my faith in humanity. Which, is something we all need from time to time.  From this, we are all a little bit stronger.

If I look through the past 6 months, and remember the unanswered questions that 2012 dug up...I'm amazed to see that they're being dealt with! Most notably, I have a great new job opportunity that I will start at the end of July. Last year left me wondering where I was headed, and while I am still kind of wandering through it all, I feel much more comfortable that I'm moving in the right direction! I'm not saying I found the answers out on a run, but I know I found the ability to make things happen for myself on these runs. And I definitely found the ability to trust my instincts!  As much as I can witness my physical strength increasing, there has been a much needed amount of personal growth as well.

As for the next 6 months, I've got my July race and my November race already scheduled. And a September and December in mind. August and October are question marks, and I'm holding off on making commitments until I know all of my options. But, I can honestly say, this has been one of the best years so far, and I can not wait for the next 6 months.

I have plenty of pump-me-up music on my running play list, but this song has become somewhat of a mantra for me on some runs. It calms me down, it slows my brain, it reminds me to get out of my head, and for the first half of 2013 at least, it is my running theme song.



*The North Face Endurance Challenge ended up clocking in at 14.6 miles instead of the expected 13.1, this posed some additional challenges as that last 1.5 miles did not come especially easy or without confusion. North Face has more than made up for it by providing some additional coupons for their gear and this fantastically amazing sticker!

**Just to drive the point home, and explain why it was so surreal to see CNN, MSNBC, and every other news channel camped out at the end of my old street, and the SWAT on top of the convenience store where my roommate and I bought our beer, this is a google map from our old house to where Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was found.