Running as a Barometer

I should be putting my brain in a box
and allowing it to power down
while I get restorative sleep.

Apparently, I’m at it again. Pushing myself too much & trying too hard to cram in as much as I can into a day. Consequently, I’m not focusing enough on sleep. I’m having fun, but the lack of sleep makes me hit the snooze in the morning and fumble through my catalogue of excuses why I can’t run in the morning. Usually, the excuses are valid- I NEED SLEEP. I’ve already shortchanged myself by staying out too late on a school night and to function efficiently at work, I need to capture as many winks as I can without being late to work.  

The drought of less sleep was short.  I had one brief date with a guy in February. In late March, after my hypnotherapy sessions with Brennan Smith to relieve my PTSD, I did what has become my bigger modus operandi - live with enthusiasm. We had several dates a week & they often took us past my bed time. The dates had deep conversation and we were sharing our joys and passions as we explored LA together. He knew I was a runner, and I knew he wasn’t particularly fond of the sport and smoked on occasion. Nonetheless, when he wanted to support me on the Nike Women’s 10k and we found out he would have to buy a bib to enter the Paramount Pictures lot, I invited him to join me. (I thought it may be fun as he loved movies and I used to work at Paramount.) This was ill-advised. I had intended to run with my female friends, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by telling him “stay home” when he was making an effort to come out and see me.  This was particularly hammered into my head by one male friend who insisted I had to honor the new guy’s wishes and allow him to support me. With no training and only grim determination, this guy ran his very first 10k with me. He completed the 6.2 miles and several hours after the race, he cracked like a nut.   

I have mixed feelings about the outcome. I know this was a very difficult undertaking even if you are trained as I remember how tough my first 5 miles were. On the other hand, the race was a catalyst. I learned in short order some ugly things that may have taken me months to learn otherwise. Letting go of this guy was difficult as he had so many admirable qualities but after my surgery, I do not feel the desire to love a man into being the man my heart believes he can be. Will I be making future suitors run with me? Absolutely. It was a fluke the above mentioned gentleman ran a 10k with me so early into our dating. I will be easing future men into the sport by introducing them to my running group. Do future men I date need to run? No. In fact, in early email correspondence, I mentioned to one I hoped to share my love of the sport & on our first coffee date he told me in no uncertain terms that he would not run. At least he stood up to me & was self aware of himself to know this. He quickly followed it up that he cycles.

The world famous Bronson Gate.
Where an actor named Charles
Buchinski  changed his name...

I will not be using a running shoe as my glass slipper, but an interest in athletics is a must. I’ve come too far to backslide. I must focus on my health, sleep and the Hartford ING half marathon that is about 24 weeks away. There is no time to doddle.

Post Script - It seems a shame not to mention all the great things that I was able to reminisce about while being back on the Paramount since during my tenure I gave two hour tours and was also a mail carrier.  But, we never know what we're going to take away from any experience. I'm sure there will be more races and visits to the Paramount lot where I can wax fondly of my time there.

Marathon Drop Out- No Shiny Medal For You... (to the tune of "Beauty School Dropout")

Yesterday, I had one of those runs that no runner wants to have— I dropped out of a race.  No one ever trains; pays registration; wakes up early all to drop out of a race. There are a myriad of reasons why a runner may do this, but I guarantee that odds are if you do this once, no matter what the distance, you’ll likely never do it again. If you were sick, you may tell yourself that you will never race while sick again and if you got injured, you may say, I’ll train smarter. Sometimes these dropouts come out of the blue and no matter what you do, it can’t be avoided…. A spectator crosses into you causing you to tumble over; a twisted ankle; etc.  Yesterday marked my 8^th long-distance run in the three years I’ve been long distance running, and every race I’ve seen a runner hobbled on the side of the course… yesterday, it was me who pulled out. We all have our reasons for dropping out, and even if it is sensible to others, to us, it is the end of the world.

But, Sunday was a learning experience.

Part of the NF Endurance Team
walking to raise money...

I had been diligent with training, so much so that six months after brain surgery, I was able to do a half-marathon. Did it hurt? Sure, but I did it... But yesterday showed me that each race is different.  The summer was very difficult, with 90+ heat after work and the weight of a suggested second brain surgery for this fall, staying in marathon shape was more difficult than I could have imagined. Thinking about the ICU, and the slow rehabilitation runs and how my neck hurt from longer runs because the muscles had been sliced apart…. This idea alone messed with my training more than the surgery itself. Training, really training and doing 20-40 miles a week was something I wasn’t emotionally equipped to do. Despite the poor training, I was going to take the opportunity to walk with the NF Endurance team and spend the whole 13.1 miles supporting friends doing their first half-marathon and getting to know each other more while raising money for the little-known condition, neurofibromatosis.  Having missed them at the start and then not being able to find them at mile 1.5 on the back portion of the out and back- facing 13.1 miles alone was daunting at best.

Fall started blowing into Los Angeles recently, training didn’t seem so difficult with cooler temperatures. Little things like my running GPS dying did not bother me, nor did the unconventional work hours. I had a rollercoaster summer, but made it through August and September with no surgery and two surgeons telling me to stay far away from the O.R. These small setbacks were not going to get me down… I’m training like it was my first marathon again. The only difference is- Now I know how much work it takes and I know how terrible the wall feels.  Even though some weeks were tough on my training schedule and I’ve been repeating them, I knew getting back to where I was would take some effort since I allowed one opinion of “You must have surgery” to scare me into nearly a nearly static life.

I’m sure this residual brain tumor will take me on a rollercoaster for the rest of my life, I just have to mentally prepare and remember that I should just keep doing what I love doing.  Even though I have been better about training, I need to take Sunday’s setback of dropping out of a race and use it like most of my setbacks and let it springboard me into something better.

It seems that there’s no point in having setbacks if you don’t learn from them to be a better you. August taught me to just stick with it and push forward and the Long Beach Half Marathon taught me to train smarter. Together- training, along with friends and prayer, will push me to my next race February 19, the Inaugural Rock n Roll Half Marathon in Pasadena. 

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.