There are a lot of subjects that many articles, coaches and fellow runners only lightly touch on in regards to the gross t.m.i. side of marathon running. When they do address these subjects, it's often chock full of political correctness with intentions to refrain from offending anyone. I promise you this does no one any favors. I'm going to break it down right here- t.m.i. or no. So you have been warned. If you easily get your panties in a bunch, skip reading this post. I'm writing this with more of a slant toward women, but I think the information is useful for both genders as well as those who are undecided.
1. Feet. Say goodbye to your perfectly pedicured feet. Unless you have the luxury of spending hours beautifying your feet, get used to closed toed shoes and comfort over style. Black toenails don't sound THAT bad because many people think you can just cover them up with a pretty dark colored nail polish. But what's actually going on with that nail? Well, there's a blood blister under it. AND possibly, a regular blister too or even more lovely: a combination of both. You have to pop that blister if you want this nail to go back to normal. How? There are a few ways:
A. Drill a hole in your nail with a teeny tiny drill. Someone on ebay sells them and there's an online store that sells them too.
B. BURN a hole in your nail with a hot needle. Heat it with fire and pierce the nail while it's hot!
C. (My personal method) If you are fortunate enough (like I am) to see that the nail is already separating from the nail bed, sterilize a needle and go right under the nail. All the liquid will ooze out and you can help it by pushing the nail down until the blister is empty. It reminds me of bursting fish roe. But like 100000 times more gross... and probably not as tasty- though I have not confirmed this fact.
Now that the blister is gone, you can wait a day or so and pull that toenail off just like a loose baby tooth. Remember the pain involved in that? It's pretty quick and temporary- but such a necessary self inflicted pain. Keep the new nail-less toe clean and dry and give it a nice coat of neosporin. In a couple of weeks, you'll see a new most likely mutant looking toenail (thinner and wavy and uneven) growing back in it's place. The more it grows, the more normal it will look but it may take months. Good times, no?
2. Joints and leg muscles. Unless you are a stealthy natural athlete (if you are thanks for reading my blog) you are always assessing the state of your joints and leg muscles. (knees, hips, ankles, quads, calves, groin particularly) You can ruin your training runs or your race by disregarding your joints during regular activities. What am I getting at? Intercourse and any other sexual activity. I have had many a training run that was lacking, painful, or even postponed because of my favorite extra curricular activity. I've pulled groin muscles, hyper-extended my inguinal area, worn my knees out and weakened my entire lower body more often than I need to confess the night before a killer run. If you want to run your best, make your partner aware BEFORE activity so that he/she can at least attempt to be sensitive to it. In the throws of pleasure, the last thing I'm thinking about are my knees and my 20 mile run and I almost always find myself screwed the next day when I hit the road. (HA!) Priorities...
3. Sweat. Salt is not a moisturizer. If you sweat like a hooker in church when running like I do, you will usually end a run with a coating of dry sweat on your skin. It's particularly attractive on your face as it will create a white crusty dust like coating on you and concentrate where you sweat the most. My romantic husband has compared the look of caked on dry sweat to other bodily fluids (that only men can produce) but let's not go there. And it gets better, if you go to rinse it off, BE CAREFUL! Dried sweat that is suddenly moistened is like concentrated salt. If it gets in your eyes or anywhere that is chapped or chafed, it hurts like pouring salt in a wound. And if you spend hours with this lovely dry layer of salt on your face (a marathon, for example) it will dry the hell out of your skin for the next few days. Expect to be that person with the skin flakes or dry patches on their face that people try not to fixate on. Moisturize like your OCD depends on it!
4. Urine/feces and the consequences of urinating/defecating. Yes, you absolutely should go when you need to go. I will never advocate holding it in for 26.2 miles. Aside from literally welcoming port-a-john use with open arms, you need to make sure you aren't such a careful germ-o-phobe that you doom yourself in other ways. Make sure EVERYTHING down there is clean AND dry. How does your baby get a diaper rash? Being wet or (worse) dirty and lacking "air" down there, right? It's going to happen to you too. Take an extra second off your marathon time and spare yourself chafing, rawness, and possible infection by wiping really well. And that body glide stuff that everyone recommends belongs in your butt crack too, if you are someone who gets drenched in sweat. If you forget your bodyglide, no need to panic- chapstick is easy to find and works almost as well and is certainly better than a raw burning butt. Chapstick has literally saved my ass.
5. Boobs. Support trumps everything. I know most of you don't like when your cans look a size or two smaller than they are, but 26.2 miles of dramatically bouncing boobs will be enjoyable to only a few spectators and certainly NOT to you. The soreness and pain that follows is not worth showing off your hooters for. (Though I say this with little to no grounds as a barely B cup so it has never occurred to me to show anything off.) Keep your boobs as close to you as possible. You'll have plenty of time to make them a feature attraction later.
6. Period. You can't postpone a marathon you registered and trained for if it's your time of the month. Unless you have debilitating cramps, I guarantee that the movement involved in running and stretching will minimize them. Do not take a heaping dose of advil or tylenol, unless you want to risk hyponatremia or possible kidney failure. The morning of this race (click on the words, silly) I popped three advil (that's a normal though occasional dose for me) in hopes to prevent pain that was imminent because I ran my first marathon EVER only two weeks before. All of my symptoms point to hyponatremia. This can be fatal if you're stupid. And I only speak for myself, but I feel like I lose a few IQ points somewhere around mile 22 every time I run a marathon. So it's safe to assume that you might get stupid and that it's not worth risking your life over. What if your flow is absurdly heavy? Ok ready???? Be open minded! Try this. (again, click the word this if you are curious...)Allow a few cycles of dress rehearsal with these things first because they are tricky when you're new at it. If you have strong kegels or if you strain for a bowel movement you can dislodge it. YOU MUST KNOW THAT CHANGING/EMPTYING/REPLACING THIS IS NOT GOING TO WORK IN A PORTAJOHN OR PUBLIC BATHROOM! But they do last 12 hours even on your heaviest day. These things are a staple for me whether I'm running or not. I've been using them for about 5 years now.
7. Underwear. If you're going to wear underwear and shorts instead of running shorts with a light full coverage underwear-like liner, test run them first. More than once. The last thing you need is to pull a wedgie every five minutes, or run with a wedgie or a droop or a thong that doesn't feel right(that might create chafing and rawness) for 26.2 miles. And do not choose any underwear that has a seam in the crotch (boy shorts often have this) as this will create a lovely uhmm... what is even it called? Crotch wedgie? I cannot even imagine.
You might be offended or grossed out, but you learned something here, I bet. I hope my blunt approach saves scores of people from unneeded pain, trauma, or inconvenience. Somebody had to do it... I dare you to comment...
11/27/11
Philadelphia! The marathon that.... is.
I finally started getting excited about this race about a week before race day. Prior to that, it was daunting and a bit overwhelming whenever it crossed my mind. Why?
*Longest long run was 15 miles.
*Did not follow a training program to the letter like I did when training for Lake Placid.
*Had some pointless pointless pointless work stress that made my reasonably enjoyable, rewarding, challenging but somewhat predictable job dismal and dreadful. I will spare you the details, except to say that all changed just days before the marathon. When it changed it was almost as though our (everyone I work with) locked cage was open. Or a savior arrived to spare us imminent doom. Or Alan Funt showed up to tell us that we were on Candid Camera and the last several weeks were a sick joke. These examples are only slight exaggerations, people. It was that bad. Having an ever-present-always-looming burden of "I would rather clean public toilets with my own toothbrush than speak to or be spoken to by my supervisor" suddenly wiped away days before a 26.2 mile run is freakin' awesome and that's all I have to say about that. Conversely, living daily with the type of dread I described for so long affects so many things in life- it crushes your spirit a little even in the aspects of life that you love.
*Briefly rekindled a long lost pass time- for about a week and a half I allowed myself a couple of evening cocktails (martinis to be precise) nearly every day until about 5 days before the race. I know that alcohol consumption can obliterate much progress made in training, but I consciously chose to take the chance and enjoy. It was fun and it felt good.
*****************************
I contemplated boring you with the details of the night before the race- how I almost forgot my running shoes. How we needed two beds and only got one king bed (but that kinda worked out because we given a giant hospitality suite with two roll aways and a sofa bed) and how we goofed around at the expo and how we had a bit of a headache in trying to find somewhere to eat. Here's a pictoral:
I'd like to say I woke up ready to run, but I kinda never really fell asleep. The two or three hours of sleep I got was rather restless and I resigned myself to lying in bed, intermittently hydrating and pretending to sleep until my alarm went off at... whenever it went off... early...
We all got up and I started eating whatever it is I ate. I tried not to count the hours of NOT sleeping that I did and got dressed and excited. Third marathon medal. No ambulance. Sub 5 hour. Don't fall too far behind Ana and give her bragging rights forever... These were my goals.
I had to post this because of how tall I look. It's strange. I'm not that tall.
Race morning included a 1 mile walk to the start and my first Marathon Maniacs group shot:
...a photo of us at the Rocky statue. Ana has never seen a Rocky movie. I almost feel like she is not worthy to stand next to this statue. But anyway, doesn't the sky look amazing?
So we find the orange corral (I decided to start with Ana so that I would have some sort of clue of how far ahead she'd be) and we waitwaitwaitwait....
This race is slightly familiar. I did the half in 2008 and the ING half in 2010. As someone who gets lost driving the very same route home if the weather is bad, I didn't recognize much of anything from my previous romps through Philly.
Choosing Lake Placid as my first marathon was the wisest ignorant choice I ever made in my running "career" because I did not notice any hills in Philly. I noticed that I slowed down for unknown reasons (the hills I didn't notice, rather) at certain areas, but that's about as traumatic as the hills seemed to me. Hoo. Ray.
Ana was a good 3 minutes ahead of me for the first 10k. This is actually good considering she has me by about a minute and a half as far as 5k PR's go... I can live with that. I am feeling very comfortable through the first half of the race. This is what I wanted: comfortable. When you are running 26.2 on less than 3 hours of sleep comfortable is practically a phenomenon.
I was surprised when Ana came from behind me and tapped me on the shoulder somewhere around mile 12. She stopped to use a port-a-john and the wait (and the facebook status updating and photos she took along the way) caused her to fall just behind me. We hit the half mark one second apart. She was already telling me that I was going to beat her- and I assured her that we would spend the rest of the race taking turns passing each other. Every single Marathon Maniac that passed me or that I passed gave props and encouragement. This was awesome!
My walk breaks started at mile 15. Instead of just walking while drinking, I took an extra 20ish seconds to walk after I ditched my cup at each hydration station. My quads started to ache and for some dumb ass reason, I never stopped to stretch. This probably encouraged more walk breaks. I could still see Ana here and there, but somewhere by mile 16 she fell further behind me. And I couldn't see her anymore. I was concerned. I kept moving- my pace was around 10:40/mile at this point and I was ok with that. But I did not want my friend to fall too far back. I was certain that once she caught up, we could pull each other through the rest of the miles and finish strong (enough)... At mile 19 I start walking more and looking behind me a lot. Where is this woman? I figured if I slowed down a little more, she'd catch me sooner. I am closing in on finishing after 4:40 (so no PR) and that is perfectly fine with me- I'm spent and hungry and nauseous and I swear I could lie down in the middle of the road and sleep soundly at this point. I was trusting that the sight of her would give me a second wind and we could pick up whatever we had left and finish together.
I start talking with other runners who are walking at mile 22. They are upset and defeated and I am trying to tell them that they still have a solid sub 5 hour time in their hands if they pick up the pace with me and finish it now. They can't. I don't know where my friend is, and I look back one last time to reassure myself that the 5 hour pace team is not in sight. And I run. There's no cups at the hydration stops. The volunteers are offering to pour water and gatorade into our mouths. I start thinking about Ana and how I KNOW she didn't stop at every hydration stop. I know that she may not welcome a total stranger patiently pouring water into her mouth. I start thinking about her falling further behind. So I decide to just finish this run. I know she isn't a quitter so she's right behind me somewhere and just like I have faith in myself that I can/will do this, I conjure up the same faith in her. And I knew the five hour pace team and their annoying bunch of red and white balloons was catching up to me and I was NOT going to let them pass me, dammit.
I experienced severe nausea. There was occasional numbness right above the back of my ankles and I wasn't sure if it was going to get worse or if it was a sign to slow to a walk again. All my joints ached. I could feel blisters pop and reform on my feet. (Flying pig socks are not good for a full marathon, now I know...) My nose would not stop running. At mile 24, there are cups! So I chew a salt pack, drink some water, and convince myself that there will be no ambulance or IV or severe consequence to running this stupid distance again.
I needed this after what happened in Pennypack Park. To feel deteriorated from head to toe, and to not panic and to press on. I crossed the finish four minutes before those stupid red and white balloons at 4 hours 56 minutes. Yes. I'll take it. That's enough.
Ana crosses the finish about nine minutes later.
Her first marathon, and my third.
At mile 24 I practically convinced myself that marathons were really stupid- that I was never going to do another one again. But today I'm thinking of throwing another one in there before the NJ Marathon in May. This is a mental illness. Oh well, I guess there are worse things.
*Longest long run was 15 miles.
*Did not follow a training program to the letter like I did when training for Lake Placid.
*Had some pointless pointless pointless work stress that made my reasonably enjoyable, rewarding, challenging but somewhat predictable job dismal and dreadful. I will spare you the details, except to say that all changed just days before the marathon. When it changed it was almost as though our (everyone I work with) locked cage was open. Or a savior arrived to spare us imminent doom. Or Alan Funt showed up to tell us that we were on Candid Camera and the last several weeks were a sick joke. These examples are only slight exaggerations, people. It was that bad. Having an ever-present-always-looming burden of "I would rather clean public toilets with my own toothbrush than speak to or be spoken to by my supervisor" suddenly wiped away days before a 26.2 mile run is freakin' awesome and that's all I have to say about that. Conversely, living daily with the type of dread I described for so long affects so many things in life- it crushes your spirit a little even in the aspects of life that you love.
*Briefly rekindled a long lost pass time- for about a week and a half I allowed myself a couple of evening cocktails (martinis to be precise) nearly every day until about 5 days before the race. I know that alcohol consumption can obliterate much progress made in training, but I consciously chose to take the chance and enjoy. It was fun and it felt good.
*****************************
I contemplated boring you with the details of the night before the race- how I almost forgot my running shoes. How we needed two beds and only got one king bed (but that kinda worked out because we given a giant hospitality suite with two roll aways and a sofa bed) and how we goofed around at the expo and how we had a bit of a headache in trying to find somewhere to eat. Here's a pictoral:
I'd like to say I woke up ready to run, but I kinda never really fell asleep. The two or three hours of sleep I got was rather restless and I resigned myself to lying in bed, intermittently hydrating and pretending to sleep until my alarm went off at... whenever it went off... early...
We all got up and I started eating whatever it is I ate. I tried not to count the hours of NOT sleeping that I did and got dressed and excited. Third marathon medal. No ambulance. Sub 5 hour. Don't fall too far behind Ana and give her bragging rights forever... These were my goals.
I had to post this because of how tall I look. It's strange. I'm not that tall.
Race morning included a 1 mile walk to the start and my first Marathon Maniacs group shot:
...a photo of us at the Rocky statue. Ana has never seen a Rocky movie. I almost feel like she is not worthy to stand next to this statue. But anyway, doesn't the sky look amazing?
So we find the orange corral (I decided to start with Ana so that I would have some sort of clue of how far ahead she'd be) and we waitwaitwaitwait....
This race is slightly familiar. I did the half in 2008 and the ING half in 2010. As someone who gets lost driving the very same route home if the weather is bad, I didn't recognize much of anything from my previous romps through Philly.
Choosing Lake Placid as my first marathon was the wisest ignorant choice I ever made in my running "career" because I did not notice any hills in Philly. I noticed that I slowed down for unknown reasons (the hills I didn't notice, rather) at certain areas, but that's about as traumatic as the hills seemed to me. Hoo. Ray.
Ana was a good 3 minutes ahead of me for the first 10k. This is actually good considering she has me by about a minute and a half as far as 5k PR's go... I can live with that. I am feeling very comfortable through the first half of the race. This is what I wanted: comfortable. When you are running 26.2 on less than 3 hours of sleep comfortable is practically a phenomenon.
I was surprised when Ana came from behind me and tapped me on the shoulder somewhere around mile 12. She stopped to use a port-a-john and the wait (and the facebook status updating and photos she took along the way) caused her to fall just behind me. We hit the half mark one second apart. She was already telling me that I was going to beat her- and I assured her that we would spend the rest of the race taking turns passing each other. Every single Marathon Maniac that passed me or that I passed gave props and encouragement. This was awesome!
My walk breaks started at mile 15. Instead of just walking while drinking, I took an extra 20ish seconds to walk after I ditched my cup at each hydration station. My quads started to ache and for some dumb ass reason, I never stopped to stretch. This probably encouraged more walk breaks. I could still see Ana here and there, but somewhere by mile 16 she fell further behind me. And I couldn't see her anymore. I was concerned. I kept moving- my pace was around 10:40/mile at this point and I was ok with that. But I did not want my friend to fall too far back. I was certain that once she caught up, we could pull each other through the rest of the miles and finish strong (enough)... At mile 19 I start walking more and looking behind me a lot. Where is this woman? I figured if I slowed down a little more, she'd catch me sooner. I am closing in on finishing after 4:40 (so no PR) and that is perfectly fine with me- I'm spent and hungry and nauseous and I swear I could lie down in the middle of the road and sleep soundly at this point. I was trusting that the sight of her would give me a second wind and we could pick up whatever we had left and finish together.
I start talking with other runners who are walking at mile 22. They are upset and defeated and I am trying to tell them that they still have a solid sub 5 hour time in their hands if they pick up the pace with me and finish it now. They can't. I don't know where my friend is, and I look back one last time to reassure myself that the 5 hour pace team is not in sight. And I run. There's no cups at the hydration stops. The volunteers are offering to pour water and gatorade into our mouths. I start thinking about Ana and how I KNOW she didn't stop at every hydration stop. I know that she may not welcome a total stranger patiently pouring water into her mouth. I start thinking about her falling further behind. So I decide to just finish this run. I know she isn't a quitter so she's right behind me somewhere and just like I have faith in myself that I can/will do this, I conjure up the same faith in her. And I knew the five hour pace team and their annoying bunch of red and white balloons was catching up to me and I was NOT going to let them pass me, dammit.
I experienced severe nausea. There was occasional numbness right above the back of my ankles and I wasn't sure if it was going to get worse or if it was a sign to slow to a walk again. All my joints ached. I could feel blisters pop and reform on my feet. (Flying pig socks are not good for a full marathon, now I know...) My nose would not stop running. At mile 24, there are cups! So I chew a salt pack, drink some water, and convince myself that there will be no ambulance or IV or severe consequence to running this stupid distance again.
I needed this after what happened in Pennypack Park. To feel deteriorated from head to toe, and to not panic and to press on. I crossed the finish four minutes before those stupid red and white balloons at 4 hours 56 minutes. Yes. I'll take it. That's enough.
Ana crosses the finish about nine minutes later.
Her first marathon, and my third.
At mile 24 I practically convinced myself that marathons were really stupid- that I was never going to do another one again. But today I'm thinking of throwing another one in there before the NJ Marathon in May. This is a mental illness. Oh well, I guess there are worse things.
11/24/11
11/20/11
Quick Philadelphia Marathon race report before the long drawn out detailed pictoral race report...
Well, it's done. And of my three marathons this year, my finish time sits right in the middle.
I had 2 3/4 hours of sleep the night before. Needless to say, although I gave all I had, I was not at my best because of this.
We walked over a mile to get to the start. (and we walked the same distance back to our hotel after the race)
The sunrise was beautiful.
They ran out of cups for the water/gatorade stops at mile 21. Volunteers were kind enough to pour water into the mouths of thirsty runners.
I really really really thought I was going to vomit at three different points.
I love the comradery of Marathon Maniacs.
I thought about how amazing it would feel to lie in bed in my husband's arms tonight and seriously, that is what got me through the tough parts of the race. Imagining that comfort and hastening myself toward it.
Two people died today- one 21 year old man and one 40 year old man. Both had heart attacks at or very close to the finish.
My friends (one of whom ran her first marathon today) danced to live Salsa music after the race was over. It was a great way to celebrate this victory.
Part of me wants to improve and continue to conquer this distance, and part of me never ever ever ever ever ever wants to do a marathon again. (I did not state anything like the latter after my first two, for the record.)
Goodnight.
I had 2 3/4 hours of sleep the night before. Needless to say, although I gave all I had, I was not at my best because of this.
We walked over a mile to get to the start. (and we walked the same distance back to our hotel after the race)
The sunrise was beautiful.
They ran out of cups for the water/gatorade stops at mile 21. Volunteers were kind enough to pour water into the mouths of thirsty runners.
I really really really thought I was going to vomit at three different points.
I love the comradery of Marathon Maniacs.
I thought about how amazing it would feel to lie in bed in my husband's arms tonight and seriously, that is what got me through the tough parts of the race. Imagining that comfort and hastening myself toward it.
Two people died today- one 21 year old man and one 40 year old man. Both had heart attacks at or very close to the finish.
My friends (one of whom ran her first marathon today) danced to live Salsa music after the race was over. It was a great way to celebrate this victory.
Part of me wants to improve and continue to conquer this distance, and part of me never ever ever ever ever ever wants to do a marathon again. (I did not state anything like the latter after my first two, for the record.)
Goodnight.
You
Seeing past my mistakes and into who I really am. Being real and true to who you are. Taking the time and the chance to get to know me. Being vulnerable and sharing your faith.
Taking another chance to form a friendship. Taking me and my unusual ways in stride. Filling the loneliness within both of us, but carefully. Teaching me patience and reviving trust within me. Seeing me broken and discovering that pieced together, we are whole.
Causing me to become deeply and irrevocably and wholly in love with you. Discovering that being yours is so far beyond any theory or example or idea I had about what love is supposed to be. Being willing to need and want you all the time- and to see this as a rich blessing rather than a weakness. To be soothed by your hands and to sleep soundly in your arms.
Seeing you befriend, revere and love each of my children uniquely. Watching them love and trust and believe in you. Hearing them proudly and unabashedly welcome you as my husband and their step dad. Knowing that you would protect them as your own. We are your own. As you are ours.
Knowing that nothing else compares to what we are together.
You are the strength in my lungs and my stride. You are the courage and the will to continue. You are who I will always run home to. I am blessed beyond measure with you- I am always in awe of what we have and how my world has changed because you are with me. Any hardship, any challenge, any reluctance can be conquered because I know that when it's over my greatest reward is not the sense of accomplishment, or any medal, or a personal record. It is that no matter how long and how difficult and how impossible the miles may seem, the road always starts and always ends with you.
Taking another chance to form a friendship. Taking me and my unusual ways in stride. Filling the loneliness within both of us, but carefully. Teaching me patience and reviving trust within me. Seeing me broken and discovering that pieced together, we are whole.
Causing me to become deeply and irrevocably and wholly in love with you. Discovering that being yours is so far beyond any theory or example or idea I had about what love is supposed to be. Being willing to need and want you all the time- and to see this as a rich blessing rather than a weakness. To be soothed by your hands and to sleep soundly in your arms.
Seeing you befriend, revere and love each of my children uniquely. Watching them love and trust and believe in you. Hearing them proudly and unabashedly welcome you as my husband and their step dad. Knowing that you would protect them as your own. We are your own. As you are ours.
Knowing that nothing else compares to what we are together.
You are the strength in my lungs and my stride. You are the courage and the will to continue. You are who I will always run home to. I am blessed beyond measure with you- I am always in awe of what we have and how my world has changed because you are with me. Any hardship, any challenge, any reluctance can be conquered because I know that when it's over my greatest reward is not the sense of accomplishment, or any medal, or a personal record. It is that no matter how long and how difficult and how impossible the miles may seem, the road always starts and always ends with you.
11/18/11
Philadelphia Marathon Eve Eve
I am going to be precocious and write what I truly believe will happen in Philadelphia. If my predictions are entirely wrong, let's be honest, it won't be that big of a deal that I keyed them out to share with anyone who happens to peruse this blog.
I did not train as obsessively and diligently for Philadelphia as I did for Lake Placid. Every other stride in Lake Placid was a physical display of gratitude for the gift of running and movement and life. I was like a kid on Christmas morning- in awe that it had finally arrived. I knew that taking on this race as a first marathon was bold and lofty so every bit of me was rising to the occasion to do as well as I could as safely as I could do it. Lake Placid did not have clocks on the marathon course. I did not wear my Garmin and never looked at the time on my phone until I stopped to use a porta-john at some point well past mile fifteen. I believe for this course, there was great wisdom in the ignorance imposed upon me (both self-imposed and due to the fact that the course had no clocks) regarding time and pace. I just ran and gave my best. I crossed the finish just a little later than my "wow that would be awesome" time and realized that I could've nailed 4:30's had I not been so overly cautious. Woot.
I'm taking in the fact that I'm going to run 26.2 again. I want this distance to become a normal distance for me. I don't need to run it every 3 days or anything like that, but I want the intensive life-consuming training/diet/hydrating madness to subside. Remember when 5k's were a big challenge? I used to carbo-load for 5ks. I used to freak out a bit over 13.1. Now I can run that distance any time I want. So why not 26.2????
Philadelphia will be my dress rehearsal for making 26.2 a normal distance in my running repertoire. I don't need to finish impressively fast- although I have high expectations of beating my Lake Placid time. What will truly be a victory for me is if I can go to work on Monday morning and treat the day with business as usual. No low sodium mental delays. No fine motor skill problems. No balance issues. No random bouts of spotty blurred vision. None of this happened following Lake Placid, this all happened after my 2nd marathon in Pennypack Park in Philadelphia. Yeah I know it was dumb to do another marathon 2 weeks later especially as an inexperienced marathoner. And I know it was extra dumb to do it in June on an 85 degree high humidity day. And I know it was mega ultra dumb to ignore the fact that the race registration stated clearly that this course was not for newbees.
I'm wiser and a few months older and incredibly humbled by my 2nd marathon. So bring it on, Philadelphia. I was in an ambulance shortly after I crossed the finish line the last time I graced this city with my presence. Nowhere to go but up, right?
I did not train as obsessively and diligently for Philadelphia as I did for Lake Placid. Every other stride in Lake Placid was a physical display of gratitude for the gift of running and movement and life. I was like a kid on Christmas morning- in awe that it had finally arrived. I knew that taking on this race as a first marathon was bold and lofty so every bit of me was rising to the occasion to do as well as I could as safely as I could do it. Lake Placid did not have clocks on the marathon course. I did not wear my Garmin and never looked at the time on my phone until I stopped to use a porta-john at some point well past mile fifteen. I believe for this course, there was great wisdom in the ignorance imposed upon me (both self-imposed and due to the fact that the course had no clocks) regarding time and pace. I just ran and gave my best. I crossed the finish just a little later than my "wow that would be awesome" time and realized that I could've nailed 4:30's had I not been so overly cautious. Woot.
I'm taking in the fact that I'm going to run 26.2 again. I want this distance to become a normal distance for me. I don't need to run it every 3 days or anything like that, but I want the intensive life-consuming training/diet/hydrating madness to subside. Remember when 5k's were a big challenge? I used to carbo-load for 5ks. I used to freak out a bit over 13.1. Now I can run that distance any time I want. So why not 26.2????
Philadelphia will be my dress rehearsal for making 26.2 a normal distance in my running repertoire. I don't need to finish impressively fast- although I have high expectations of beating my Lake Placid time. What will truly be a victory for me is if I can go to work on Monday morning and treat the day with business as usual. No low sodium mental delays. No fine motor skill problems. No balance issues. No random bouts of spotty blurred vision. None of this happened following Lake Placid, this all happened after my 2nd marathon in Pennypack Park in Philadelphia. Yeah I know it was dumb to do another marathon 2 weeks later especially as an inexperienced marathoner. And I know it was extra dumb to do it in June on an 85 degree high humidity day. And I know it was mega ultra dumb to ignore the fact that the race registration stated clearly that this course was not for newbees.
I'm wiser and a few months older and incredibly humbled by my 2nd marathon. So bring it on, Philadelphia. I was in an ambulance shortly after I crossed the finish line the last time I graced this city with my presence. Nowhere to go but up, right?
11/13/11
LAST????
I watched the NYC Marathon last weekend and marveled over the record breaking elites. I watched Mary Keitany soar through the first 20 miles with a lead of one to two minutes. I expected Geoffrey Mutai to win AND set a new course record- this was his duty. He did it in Boston so he had to do the same thing in New York. I tracked people I knew from my local running club online. I also tracked the Chilean miner, Edison Pena. I tracked Apolo Anton Ohno and Mario Lopez and gushed over their negative splits in this race. (Yeah, I know they had pacers, but that's still impressive.)
I looked at photos people posted on facebook after the marathon. I saw the pride and perseverance that is standard issue to complete this distance whether you are an experienced elite or a first timer.
But right now, I'm more impressed by those at the very very back of the pack. Those who were the last to cross the finish line.
As an "average" runner who has been racing for long enough now, I tend to forget about the people that are so far behind me that even I could lap them on a good day, depending on the distance. While blog-hopping, I stumbled across a couple of blogs by people who went into detail about finishing dead last.
And while there may be no special medal and no prize money for the person who is last, I am finding myself exponentially impressed by them- they are uniquely revered in a way that the leading elites will never be in my mind. No one wants to be last. No one says "I'm going to do my best to come in last." Those who are last are resigned to and at peace with being at the very back of the pack, but no one is eager for last place. I have watched junior high school track meets and found myself most intrigued by the kid who consistently finishes last, but gives the race everything he's got time and time again.
There is something about that kind of heart- to consciously put aside the concern for what others might think, see, feel about you and just freakin' go. To bear in mind that your efforts are just as significant and valuable as any stealthy fast athlete. To feel the sense of accomplishment. I hope that these last place athletes know that stepping up to the start is as much a victory as crossing the finish.
I tried to search the results page of the NYC Marathon to see who came in last. It seems that it can't be done if you don't know that person's name or bib number. But I have seen many cross the finish at many races of varying distances long after everyone else- during that time when everyone else stopped watching and cheering and has already headed home or to the awards ceremony or post race party. Sometimes the race marshals are already gone and the water and post race food is depleted or (worse!!!) put away.
It takes courage to be last. More courage than it takes to be first, I believe. So if you're last, you have my awe and respect. You've won your race in a unique way that many will never understand. May you not always be last, but may you always remember and appreciate what it took to stand at the start knowing that you might be last and how it built you. Last place takes courage and strength and might. Last place is the greatest testament of "I'm not giving up, no matter what." Keep at it.
I looked at photos people posted on facebook after the marathon. I saw the pride and perseverance that is standard issue to complete this distance whether you are an experienced elite or a first timer.
But right now, I'm more impressed by those at the very very back of the pack. Those who were the last to cross the finish line.
As an "average" runner who has been racing for long enough now, I tend to forget about the people that are so far behind me that even I could lap them on a good day, depending on the distance. While blog-hopping, I stumbled across a couple of blogs by people who went into detail about finishing dead last.
And while there may be no special medal and no prize money for the person who is last, I am finding myself exponentially impressed by them- they are uniquely revered in a way that the leading elites will never be in my mind. No one wants to be last. No one says "I'm going to do my best to come in last." Those who are last are resigned to and at peace with being at the very back of the pack, but no one is eager for last place. I have watched junior high school track meets and found myself most intrigued by the kid who consistently finishes last, but gives the race everything he's got time and time again.
There is something about that kind of heart- to consciously put aside the concern for what others might think, see, feel about you and just freakin' go. To bear in mind that your efforts are just as significant and valuable as any stealthy fast athlete. To feel the sense of accomplishment. I hope that these last place athletes know that stepping up to the start is as much a victory as crossing the finish.
I tried to search the results page of the NYC Marathon to see who came in last. It seems that it can't be done if you don't know that person's name or bib number. But I have seen many cross the finish at many races of varying distances long after everyone else- during that time when everyone else stopped watching and cheering and has already headed home or to the awards ceremony or post race party. Sometimes the race marshals are already gone and the water and post race food is depleted or (worse!!!) put away.
It takes courage to be last. More courage than it takes to be first, I believe. So if you're last, you have my awe and respect. You've won your race in a unique way that many will never understand. May you not always be last, but may you always remember and appreciate what it took to stand at the start knowing that you might be last and how it built you. Last place takes courage and strength and might. Last place is the greatest testament of "I'm not giving up, no matter what." Keep at it.
11/9/11
Genius, I know....
I've given up on my fuel belt. The bottles leak and since I have a small waist but I still have real hips, the damn thing always rides too high or feels too tight.
Now that the Jersey Shore is somewhat closed for the season, most of the water fountains on the boardwalk are turned off and most rest rooms are boarded up. (Yes I will without hesitation use boardwalk bathroom sink water to refill my bottles.) No fair for runners...
I considered buying a device like this:
(That is NOT my arm, by the way. I just found this photo online...)
I rigged my own very inexpensive version which I have used about 3 times now on long runs:
(That is my hand with a giant tattoo on it. This tattoo covers a smaller tattoo I impulsively decided to get in Hawaii when I was 19 years old. No, I am not/was not in a gang. I have very mixed feeling about being the mom with the tattooed hand... anyway, back to our subject...)
I made this out of four hair elastics. It actually works- I held a bottle for a good part of 15 miles and was able to just stuff the hair elastics in my pocket during the last mile of my run. It prevents the need for a tight sweaty grip on the bottle. My hand is loose and sometimes open with this makeshift bottle holder. It's easy to switch from one hand to another, too.
And if I lose or drop the hair elastics, it's not the end of the world. This device probably costs about 30 cents or less if you buy hair elastics in bulk...
You're thinking, well, that's nice... but what about gels or sport beans or any other edibles that aren't transportable via multiple hair elastics? And you're probably wondering if I wear an armband for my music, right? (I know you probably aren't but I have a solution for that too...)
I turned these shorts inside out so that you could see the pockets I sewed on the inside. These are currently my favorite running shorts. I sewed these pockets on by hand in a hotel the night before my first marathon. While I have a whole room in my house devoted to sewing that has 3 machines in it, I can't seem to find it in my heart to remove the hand stitching. It's sentimental, I guess. Anyway, I had to carefully size the pockets so that they weren't too big (I measured my blackberry and added .25 inches on each side.)and place them so that they weren't right on my hips or too close together. The pockets are made of spandex materials- the gold pocket was made from scrap fabric from my Wonder Woman marathon relay costume. I string my headphones up through my shirt and it's like it's all meant to happen. I have one other pair of shorts that I sewed pockets into. I do have a few pairs of running shorts that came with pockets (and a $30+ price tag) but the pockets are all too small. I also keep money in one of the pockets at all times because it would be out of the question to run with a wallet.
These are cheap easy ways to make your life more running friendly. I hope someone finds them useful!
Now that the Jersey Shore is somewhat closed for the season, most of the water fountains on the boardwalk are turned off and most rest rooms are boarded up. (Yes I will without hesitation use boardwalk bathroom sink water to refill my bottles.) No fair for runners...
I considered buying a device like this:
(That is NOT my arm, by the way. I just found this photo online...)
I rigged my own very inexpensive version which I have used about 3 times now on long runs:
(That is my hand with a giant tattoo on it. This tattoo covers a smaller tattoo I impulsively decided to get in Hawaii when I was 19 years old. No, I am not/was not in a gang. I have very mixed feeling about being the mom with the tattooed hand... anyway, back to our subject...)
I made this out of four hair elastics. It actually works- I held a bottle for a good part of 15 miles and was able to just stuff the hair elastics in my pocket during the last mile of my run. It prevents the need for a tight sweaty grip on the bottle. My hand is loose and sometimes open with this makeshift bottle holder. It's easy to switch from one hand to another, too.
And if I lose or drop the hair elastics, it's not the end of the world. This device probably costs about 30 cents or less if you buy hair elastics in bulk...
You're thinking, well, that's nice... but what about gels or sport beans or any other edibles that aren't transportable via multiple hair elastics? And you're probably wondering if I wear an armband for my music, right? (I know you probably aren't but I have a solution for that too...)
I turned these shorts inside out so that you could see the pockets I sewed on the inside. These are currently my favorite running shorts. I sewed these pockets on by hand in a hotel the night before my first marathon. While I have a whole room in my house devoted to sewing that has 3 machines in it, I can't seem to find it in my heart to remove the hand stitching. It's sentimental, I guess. Anyway, I had to carefully size the pockets so that they weren't too big (I measured my blackberry and added .25 inches on each side.)and place them so that they weren't right on my hips or too close together. The pockets are made of spandex materials- the gold pocket was made from scrap fabric from my Wonder Woman marathon relay costume. I string my headphones up through my shirt and it's like it's all meant to happen. I have one other pair of shorts that I sewed pockets into. I do have a few pairs of running shorts that came with pockets (and a $30+ price tag) but the pockets are all too small. I also keep money in one of the pockets at all times because it would be out of the question to run with a wallet.
These are cheap easy ways to make your life more running friendly. I hope someone finds them useful!
11/5/11
At last... the last long run...
I will readily admit that I am not feeling the same level of drive and desire to do the Philadelphia Marathon that I felt for Lake Placid. It's not even close. In fact, I am slightly resentful of the idea of running Philadelphia. However, a commitment is a commitment, and I'll run, give it my all and cross that finish line dammit. Training has been *ok* at best, but the excitement is completely gone. Carving out the time for long runs is a burden. Running after work annoys me. And I cannot stand running in the cold.
I ditched my twenty mile run last week because of the weather. I considered doing it in the middle of the week after work, but quickly realized that was stupid. So I set out today. I dressed for the run but forgot about the wind chill factor. I run along the ocean so there aren't many buildings or trees to block the wind with. Running south was lovely. Turning around and heading north was torture. I was freezing the whole time. I felt like I was running without clothes on- the wind permeated my long sleeve tech shirt and shorts. I was prepared with fuel this time- I had GU gels and gatorade. I had no intention of wearing my Garmin- I didn't want to obsess on pace and time for this run. I just wanted to get the miles in, no matter what speed as long as I was running. The last time I wore the Garmin, I'm pretty sure I looked at it every 4 minutes. It made the run seem a billion times longer. I think I did during my Lake Placid training- I wore the Garmin for the 18 mile run and decided that wearing it for 20 miles would doom me.
I re-routed so that I could have a nice 10 mile loop to do twice. I took this run as my usual "journey" rather than "race" mentality and before I knew it I was nearly through the first loop. I did stop to stretch once, and realized that maybe in cold weather I should be stretching more regularly. I actually had noticeable tightness in my quads. I stopped to use the bathroom near the Beach Bar in Asbury Park and decided to look at my phone to try and estimate my pace.
I saw the time. And my heart sunk. And after a quick burst of denial and a few attempts at some mental calculations I realized that something was very very wrong.
Based on the time, I was going very very slow. About 2.5 min/mile slower than my most comfortable pace. I tried to assess my body and see if anything was hurting or out of order. I searched for unusual pain. I felt alert and physically energetic enough to finish the run, but what the heck? Even at my first race ever I didn't pace this slow. Even at my second marathon where I ended in an ambulance I didn't pace this slow. I had no idea what to do. Even though I could keep going, the thought of running 10 more miles and taking this long in the freezing cold seemed unfathomable. Not to mention, the realization of the fact that I was running this slow was so disturbing. After pondering all the possible reasons and coming up with NOTHING that made any sense, I decided that I probably shouldn't run the full 20. If I slowed down this much, something HAD TO be wrong. I just wasn't connecting with it yet.
I got home and felt defeated over the fact that I just ran my slowest ten miles EVER. I was waiting for some sort of intense pain to set in now that I was in a warm house. When I'm cold, I really don't feel much of anything else unless it's terribly severe. No pain. No stiffness. I went upstairs and turned my computer on. I opened up gmaps and plotted the distance.
And plotted it again and again.
13.1 miles.
Not 10.
I had checked the time right around mile 12, not mile 9. Big difference. It turns out that I had added two miles to the run by turning around too far out. I guess I should have gone out and ran the other 7, but I didn't. That's enough. As many have implored, running 20 this week will not make or break me. I already know I can cover the marathon distance. Of course I want a PR, but I'm not obsessed with getting one during the unpleasantly cold 26.2 mile trudge that takes place 15 days from now. I'll give it my best and take whatever my best gives me. I'm surprised by my error in calculating the miles. I did question the distance a couple of times in my mind while I was out there, but decided that I should trust what I saw on the map.
I wonder what other runners would have done in my position.
If you thought you were seriously dragging ass, would you keep dragging through a training run?
I ditched my twenty mile run last week because of the weather. I considered doing it in the middle of the week after work, but quickly realized that was stupid. So I set out today. I dressed for the run but forgot about the wind chill factor. I run along the ocean so there aren't many buildings or trees to block the wind with. Running south was lovely. Turning around and heading north was torture. I was freezing the whole time. I felt like I was running without clothes on- the wind permeated my long sleeve tech shirt and shorts. I was prepared with fuel this time- I had GU gels and gatorade. I had no intention of wearing my Garmin- I didn't want to obsess on pace and time for this run. I just wanted to get the miles in, no matter what speed as long as I was running. The last time I wore the Garmin, I'm pretty sure I looked at it every 4 minutes. It made the run seem a billion times longer. I think I did during my Lake Placid training- I wore the Garmin for the 18 mile run and decided that wearing it for 20 miles would doom me.
I re-routed so that I could have a nice 10 mile loop to do twice. I took this run as my usual "journey" rather than "race" mentality and before I knew it I was nearly through the first loop. I did stop to stretch once, and realized that maybe in cold weather I should be stretching more regularly. I actually had noticeable tightness in my quads. I stopped to use the bathroom near the Beach Bar in Asbury Park and decided to look at my phone to try and estimate my pace.
I saw the time. And my heart sunk. And after a quick burst of denial and a few attempts at some mental calculations I realized that something was very very wrong.
Based on the time, I was going very very slow. About 2.5 min/mile slower than my most comfortable pace. I tried to assess my body and see if anything was hurting or out of order. I searched for unusual pain. I felt alert and physically energetic enough to finish the run, but what the heck? Even at my first race ever I didn't pace this slow. Even at my second marathon where I ended in an ambulance I didn't pace this slow. I had no idea what to do. Even though I could keep going, the thought of running 10 more miles and taking this long in the freezing cold seemed unfathomable. Not to mention, the realization of the fact that I was running this slow was so disturbing. After pondering all the possible reasons and coming up with NOTHING that made any sense, I decided that I probably shouldn't run the full 20. If I slowed down this much, something HAD TO be wrong. I just wasn't connecting with it yet.
I got home and felt defeated over the fact that I just ran my slowest ten miles EVER. I was waiting for some sort of intense pain to set in now that I was in a warm house. When I'm cold, I really don't feel much of anything else unless it's terribly severe. No pain. No stiffness. I went upstairs and turned my computer on. I opened up gmaps and plotted the distance.
And plotted it again and again.
13.1 miles.
Not 10.
I had checked the time right around mile 12, not mile 9. Big difference. It turns out that I had added two miles to the run by turning around too far out. I guess I should have gone out and ran the other 7, but I didn't. That's enough. As many have implored, running 20 this week will not make or break me. I already know I can cover the marathon distance. Of course I want a PR, but I'm not obsessed with getting one during the unpleasantly cold 26.2 mile trudge that takes place 15 days from now. I'll give it my best and take whatever my best gives me. I'm surprised by my error in calculating the miles. I did question the distance a couple of times in my mind while I was out there, but decided that I should trust what I saw on the map.
I wonder what other runners would have done in my position.
If you thought you were seriously dragging ass, would you keep dragging through a training run?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)