GET ONE ON THE BOOKS

Not me. Not ever.

.  . . And I’m back. 

I’m feeling supremely good. I have the runners’ high that everyone speaks of. When I began the running journey in 2008, I thought people were mad for getting excited over running.

Who gets giddy, excited, high from running?

I'm the girl who "ran" Track and Field in high school and did all the weight events to avoid the running portion of Track and Field. I never understood the runners high. When I got deeper into my marathon training, I learned that it is an actual thing and it's something somebody even like me can have.

Training has been difficult. I started off strong in the spring and summer, but after going through a difficult “break up” in the late part of summer and early fall, those necessary training runs fell by the wayside. A friend called me out on Face Book and suggested I do a 10k that was to benefit brain tumor research. After dallying on signing up for a 10k closer to home, I immediately signed up for that one. I was re-commited to endurance training and dug out my marathon training schedule from 2008/2009. I started laying down the miles.  Muscle memory is great when you're revisiting a neighborhood you haven't been to in awhile, but the muscle memory I experienced with these runs was amazing. Sure, my muscles got a little tired and fatigued. My lung capacity isn’t what it was, but these runs were nothing like the first 3, 4 and 5 mile runs I did when I first found the sport of endurance running.

I was feeling good, but not great. And, certainly not confident. I figured I would use the 10k (6.2 miles) as a training run and just train through. This way, I wouldn’t need to worry about time, a PR or anything. But, I’m a runner, I worry about those things. As my coach from my first marathon told me- Have 3 goals: 1 that you can achieve with work, one that is doable, and the third should always be to finish. My goal was to do a sub 1:21 10k. That was my pace during my marathon, and it was a better 10k pace than the race I did with the closeted smoker. With my toes on my left foot bothering me after a 5 mile run the week before the race and my bridge of my right foot bothering me, I readjusted…. Sub 1:30. Well, that’s what I told everyone and what I tried to tell myself. But I still wanted that sub 1:21 even though I was doubtful I could achieve it.

Within the last year, I discover I have a small wheat intolerance, which forced me to change my eating regimen the night before my long runs. For my 10k, I had a giant bowl of quinoa, some grocery store sushi, 2 glasses of red wine and promptly overslept. I woke up at the time I should be leaving for the race. Fortunately, my ex-boyfriend who was a runner drilled it into my head that you need to lay out all your clothes on a chair the night before. That way you can’t possibly miss anything. When the chair is empty, you know you have all your stuff and you’re ready. 

After waking up late, I threw my extra quinoa in the microwave and ran around the house like a maniac cursing that I slept through my alarms and the imminent road closures I would experience when I got closer to the course. Unable to do my traditional pre-long run morning ritual, I shoveled breakfast into my mouth at red lights. Some how, as I got closer, the road divergences weren’t too bad. Pulling into the parking lot, I finished breakfast and had half a banana.

The rest of the morning was a lot of pre-race festitivies to get the runners excited about the run. This was, after all, a brain tumor event. Survivors were wearing grey shirts. There were probably 10 of us I spotted on the course.

The first mile was slow. So slow. People kept passing me. I was getting discouraged, but dug in. I had been here before, slow to start and run my own race. I kept telling myself, "don’t psych yourself out. Just run the pace that feels good." I knew looking at my watch, I'd inherently slow down thinking my pace was impossible, so I just kept running.

One of my running friends who had run the 5k, found me just after mile 4 and we ran a mile together. She had to peel off to meet friends for brunch, but she told me I had a downhill to look forward to for the rest of the course. I passed people who had passed me, shared waves with other brain tumor survivors and almost crashed into a woman who decided to cross the course at the finish line. 

When the official results came out, I was floored. I didn’t run a 1:21 10k; I ran a 1:13…. A full 8 minutes faster than what I wanted and a full 18 minutes faster than what I expected. This puts my overall pace at 11:46. Sure, it’s a race pace, but my natural pace is somewhere between what I WAS running and this. Now, I have a new sweet spot, a new training pace. I know I can endure long runs at this pace. 

Coupled with tempo runs/intervals/200 repeats/hill repeats, you name it, I’ll get my sub 2:30:00 half. What’s more this and the ballroom go hand in hand. My balance from ballroom has strengthened my core and overall improved my form. My running strengthens my cardiovascular and allows me to keep up with my daning parter/coach. 

I’m absolutley humbled by what I’ve been able to accomplish. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: It’s Amaing What You Can Do Without A Brain Tumor.

Personal Worst

There is nothing better to kick-start your drive to really buckle down to stick to a training program like going to watch an endurance race.

On the weekend of October 12, 2012, I took a redeye home to Connecticut to see my brother-in-law kick butt running his first marathon at the Hartford ING Marathon. His calmness before a major race was amazing, and I believe it is due in large part from his experience running track for a Division 1 college. Navigating some of the logistics of any big race held us up & my sister and I caught clothes as he stripped while he slowly sprinted to the start. (Mind you he can do a sub 7:00mi and my sister and I feel good if we do an 11:30.) He got to the start & ended up having to jump into the 4hr coral, which was a full hour slower than where he should have been.

My sister & I, along with my niece (in the jogging stroller) sprinted to the 5k start. The gun time was the same time as the marathon gun and despite it being less than a block away, by the time we got there, there was not a runner in sight. We were so late the volunteers were already rolling up the starting mat. They were kind enough to plug it back in so we could have the official chip time. There is nothing more demoralizing than starting a race and having to stop to ask for directions. Well, there’s almost nothing. It become more demoralizing when fast people showed up. Now, we really felt like we had gone off course. We kept going & finally found an officer that told us, “Yes, the half marathon and 5k briefly share the same course.” We continued slowly, with some trepidation until we saw another “runner.” Well, she really wasn’t expending that much energy while going up the hill.  My sister leaned over and said, “let’s pass her.” So, she, I, and baby scurried up the hill. When we continued past the crest, we saw more 5kers. We weren’t going fast, but we pushed forward. My sister and I never wanted to walk a race and we never wanted to finish last; it looked like at least finishing last was a possibility.

We continued to maneuver through walkers. Our guts were a little upset, but we bypassed the porta-potties. (For me, in larger part this could have been a result of my travel problems and the accompanied stress eating and feeding my mostly-vegetarian body turkey sandwiches.) We were slow, but we didn’t want a worse time.  Our end almost came when we saw a Dunkin’ Donuts and actually discussed how great a coffee and donut would be on this 47* day. We concluded that would just be giving up too easily. We finally stopped at some porta-potties that were literally in the path of the race course. We did our slow turtle run to the finish, passing walkers, cell talkers and texters. It wasn’t a great race, in fact, she and I each dubbed it as our Personal Worst. Somehow, despite our bad start, walking a little, and our extra-long stop at a porta-poty (somebody had to wait with the baby) we passed and beat 87 people! 

 

We had time to get back to the finish to go cheer on her husband who finished his first marathon in just over 3:19, despite cramping up at mile 22. From the leg cramps he got, it’s a miracle he was able to still do so well. It’s still too early to know if he’s going to do another marathon just yet, but from talking with him after I am reminded again why I fell in love with the sport of endurance running. Despite the fatigue and pain (and wall), reconnecting with the race makes me want to stop giving myself outs for running and "Just Do It."

CONFRONTING TRAINING SCHEDULES, HEALTH QUESTIONS AND DEPRESSION...

Just before my head is about to sink below the surface and I’m going to drown in frustration and self-pity for all the setbacks I’ve had, whispers of encouragement come from so many places. Last Saturday, I stayed in the Valley and ran with friends since the 405 was closed. (This closure was dubbed as Carmageddon.) The pace felt blistering fast, but when it was over, it was about an hour. It’s slightly slower than what I was running at prior to surgery, but I know without friends at my side, I may not have been able to push myself to accomplish this. (A 5-mile run in under an hour was my secret goal.) So I came close to meeting my secret goal. And I accomplished what was on my training schedule which includes weights and running. 

This week I’m continuing the weigh lifting, but I’m increasing my mileage.  (Yay!) One area that has been sorely neglected has been my neck.  Legs and cardiovascular are a given and for long-distance running, core is a smart thing to build up, but I had neglected my neck. It had bothered me during long runs, but exercising the neck is just so, well, boring. It didn’t really hit home until I was doing a push-up using a stability ball and after a set my neck bothered me. So here I am, training for an ultra-relay (190 miles)  and half-marathons and I have to worry about my neck. (This does make sense since my surgeon in essence filleted my neck to get to my cerebellum to resecet that darn tumor.)   So, I’ve committed myself to doing these lame exercises in addition to my normal long-distance training.

Not too far after surgery, a running friend who also goes to Bible study with me recommended that I read IN THE PIT WITH A LION ON A SNOWY DAY.  I never made it to the bookstore to buy it, but with my recent iPhone purchase, I downloaded it to the Kindle app so I could retrieve this book. Without turning a marathon training blog into a book report, the author, (Mark Batterson), raises a good point, “He (God) is always using past experiences to prepare us for future opportunities.”  So far, I highly recommend the book. Moreover, this idea slapped me in the face to just take what I’ve viewed as setbacks to my life and to training and let those experiences be my springboard to something else. 


This week, like all weeks for people on a training schedule, will be a challenge to balance with work, and friends, while increasing mileage and/or speed. It's not just the ultra-marathon relay or the charity half-marathon the following month, the training is about getting to each race and crossing each finish line at my personal best. 

13 of 1 OR Half of Another…

“It's not about how fast you go. It's not about how far you go. It's a process.” - Amby Burfoot, The Runner's Guide to the Meaning of Life

I’m a multi-tasker; I can’t help myself.  If I can do one thing, but add another activity to either enhance the primary activity or cut down on the time it will take me to do activity #2, I’ll do it. This is how I ended up completing my 3^rd post-op MRI and 6^th Half-Marathon in the same weekend. I figured since I was already in San Diego county for my MRI, I might as well do a half-marathon.

With every race, you learn something. Part of my lesson is- I will never again say, “just a half-marathon.”



A best friend, Rachel- Who has been
with me nearly every step of the way,
from the ER to the half-marathon.

I knew I couldn’t set a PR (Personal Record) at this race, but I did this race to prove something to myself- that I have more power over my life than my brain tumor.  My realistic goal was sub 3 hours; I figured with a little pushing this would be possible. To make sure I didn’t focus on time, I left my Garmin at home.  At Mile 8, my feet felt bruised and at mile 8.5 my hip-flexors were sore. Somewhere in there, a girl passed me wearing a Philippians 4:13 shirt.  (This happens to be a friend's go-to Bible passage for when things get rough and on his first run back after the his difficult marathon, we did a 10-miler together and he shared this with me.) My body still ached but I pressed on. The bands nearly every mile fed some energy to me and the other runners, but the stretch along the sloped 163 was void of crowds and bands. I buckled down and sang from a song another friend burned for me  “You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ ‘Till You See What God Can Do…”  It has helped with just the normal healing process and helped here to get through the less eccentric areas of the race. 

There were portions of the race where I just couldn’t run, and hobbling several yards was the best I could do. From mile 10 to mile13.1, each mile was 3 min slower than my starting pace, which was slower still than my old training pace.

I am not a gifted athlete. I love what I do and I try really hard.  My found love of long-distance running is what made me a great patient and helped with my initial recovery. I’m not going to set the world on fire with my pace, but I will always be grateful that I can put one foot in front of the other and run 13.1 miles (especially on 6 months post-op).  

It’s not “just a half;” it’s a journey. It’s a journey that took me 2:50:00 to complete and a heck of a lot of post-race Ben Gay.