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.
11/20/11
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?
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