Mile by Mile: Life Lessons Learned Through Marathon Running

On Thanksgiving morning, I participated in my run club’s Tofurky Trot.  That’s right, Tofurky.  Last year, there was a discussion on the various area turkey trots (you know, those Thanksgiving morning community road races), and one of the vegans in the group joked that she had a Tofurky run at her house.  In typical Libertyville Running Club tradition, it happened.  Twice:

Anyway, I was running (well, trotting because we were chatting too much to consider ourselves racing) with two friends.  I’m working on growing my chemistry tutoring business, and the question of how that was going…..lead to AP exams and college choices and life in general and how we can apply our perspective about running to life. 

★☆★☆★

When you run a major marathon, you have to focus on your race.  The only thing that matters is when the chip on your shoe or race bib hits the mats, so worrying about how fast the people around you are going is anethma.  They might be pacing for a faster race.  You might see them in five miles, hitting a wall because they went out too fast.  They might have shown up late and ended up starting in the back instead of the super-speedy corral they were assigned.  You might have passed them earlier in the race because they stopped to use a porta potty.  Basically, you have no clue what their chip and pacing is saying, so there is no point in comparing yourself to them.

That’s true in life.  We spend so much of high school and college worrying about gpa and test scores and class rank, comparing ourselves to our peers.  My dentist had a son in my high school class, and when I would go for a cleaning, I would always be with the dental hygienist who also had a son in my class.  Both parents were very interested in my class rank, my ACT, what colleges I was interested in attending, and so on.  Their sons were great guys, but I’m a member of Mensa genius who was so smart as a 3 year old that I started kindergarten a year early *and* was in the gifted program *and* by high school, so ambitious about college that I fought for every extra credit point and A+.  I felt pressure, but it was so awkward to be in the dentist’s chair, having to point out that I’m a better student than their sons.  Especially when both of them had a lot of gifts that have made them successful today.  Just not being in the top 1% of their high school graduating class. 

With those comparisons, we stop running our life, our “race,” and try to keep up with everyone else.  However, when you ask someone 20 years later, they often regret the decisions that were influenced by external pressures, whether they be academic or romantic or financial.  Be you.  Run your own race.  Do your thing the way you need to do it.

That 2015 Chicago was looong!

Unless you are Eliud Kipchoge, a marathon is long.  Three hours is considered a “fast” time, and some people will be out there for seven or eight hours.  A lot can happen in an hour, never mind eight, and one of the mantras in marathon running is “just put one foot ahead of the other.”  I definitely had to say that to myself throughout both Chicago and New York this year, as I didn’t know how long my body would last. 

When I came home, I realized I would have to apply that mantra to life.  I had quit my job.  I had broken up with my boyfriend of four years.  My house was a cacophony of stuff my ex had accumulated, stressing me to the point where my brain couldn’t figure out how to do things like make dinner or brush my teeth without an anxiety attack.  The focus on the trip and the marathon had taken some of the pressure off these things, but now I had to face reality.  A giant, scary, overwhelming reality.

Instead of being caught up in the place I found myself, I just needed to put one foot ahead of the other.  I had to figure out what was stressing me out the most, what the smallest step I could take to alleviate that stress, and then accomplishing that step.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  It has been all about finding success in forward progress, no matter how small, and cherishing the stress relief associated with it. 

We get so caught up in not being “there” yet that instead of focusing on that next little step, we stop and quit.  Just keep moving forward.  Keep learning, growing, progressing, trying.  You are getting closer.

★☆★☆★

In the course of a race that lasts hours, even for the fastest in the world, a lot can happen.  The weather is often unpredictable and inconsistent.  The meal you ate the night before suddenly doesn’t agree with you.  The start is earlier or later than your normal training times, so you have to modify your nutrition plan.  You have to be able to roll with the punches and adjust, rather than pining over what didn’t go right.  That was my New York experience in a nutshell, having to make decisions and game plans on the fly as my body wasn’t reacting as I expected. 

There are days when you get up early and make a perfect bullet journal page….just to have something happen that causes it to fly out the window.  For me, that’s like setting up an ornate domino show, and having something knock the whole thing down before you get a chance finish the design.  I’m back to square one and the first domino.  I really have to stop, breathe, regroup, and figure out how to go forward now that the plan is gone. 

Life constantly doesn’t go as planned, and most of the time, we don’t get to start over again.  We get stuck at that point, not knowing how to get back on track to a rigid set of ideas and rules of what we want, rather than looking at where we are and retooling.  Be adaptable to changes, especially changes that are outside of your control.    

★☆★☆★

Running a marathon is an all-day, if not all-weekend event.  You have spent months thinking about this weekend, planning this weekend, purchasing items (and often travel) for this weekend, so it makes sense that there’s also a sense of anxiety that something won’t go as planned.  Even the most veteran marathon runners feel those nerves, and back in 2015, I let those nerves get the better of me in Chicago.  My head started to control my body, and my body started to shut down.  I did set an 8 min PR, but it would be three years until I would have the experience to quiet the nerves and crush Chicago.

There are plenty of people who let their nerves get in the way of success.  The college student so afraid of public speaking that they cannot give the presentation required for their degree.  The job seeker so afraid a job won’t be perfect enough that their non verbal behavior blows an interview.  The person who walks away instead of having a difficult conversation.  The woman at the bar who notices an attractive man, but is too nervous of making a fool of herself to approach him and say hello.    

We often think that our anxieties and nerves are a weakness to suppress, wallowing in self-pity over our failures.  Accept those nerves as part of being human.  Learn how to overcome them. 

Wait, there's something new here!

Another mantra of marathon running is “don’t change anything on race day.”  The idea is that if you figured out what worked in training, race day is not the time to try something new.  While yes, a major change on race day can cause a lot of problems, great runners are willing to take those risks in hopes of going beyond what they think they can do.  In New York, I tried compression socks for the first time on race day, and it probably was the smartest thing I could have done.  I also try to keep my nutrition plan flexible, risking that whatever is on course might not agree with me, over becoming overly dependent on a specific product schedule.

It’s the perfect metaphor for life.  Many people get stuck in this plan of how life should be that they fear the risks they could take to achieve greater goals.  We stay in jobs we don’t love, with people we don’t love, doing things we don’t love because it’s safe.  It’s easy.  It’s predictable.  We create a bubble around us where nothing is difficult or challenging or scary, to the point where they cannot tolerate anything that changes their universe.

However, that rigid adherence to what is planned and familiar keeps us from growing and improving, which comes from taking risks and failing.  The runners who are so quick to tell me they have every detail about their marathon planned are often the ones who struggle improving their time.  And in life, the people who stay in their comfortable bubble often ruminate about how they wish their lives were different, even as I see them actively reject anything unfamiliar.  Break your bubble.  Try new things.  Meet new people.  Challenge yourself.  Fail.  Learn from failure.  Grow. 

★☆★☆★

Finally, it’s not about one race.  Your first marathon is usually the most exciting.  Everything is new and different and adventurous.  Your time will be your personal best, since it is your first.  The process naturally gets you in shape, and you see your speed and endurance improve.  Your confidence builds, and you become ready to tackle greater things in your life.  (Did you see Brittany Runs a Marathon?)  Life is good!

That initial improvement comes from starting with nothing.  Eventually, you’ll plateau, have a setback, or fight injury.  Running isn’t fun.  You’re slower.  It hurts.  Your friends on Strava seem to be flying past you in their own quests to run PRs.  Many runners hit this point and quit, but the ones who figure out the challenge, make the changes, and reboot can go further and faster.

My largest challenge is my head.  I used to feel so slow that I would be bored to tears during training, and that would translate to going out too fast at the start of the race, to fight that boredom.  By mile 15, I was spent, walking, and even more slow and bored as the race could not go fast enough.  I decided to take a couple years off of racing marathons, but continuing with the training.  Slowly, I improved to the point where those 22 mile training runs seemed easy—and suddenly, so did my marathons.  I’ve gone from a consistent 5:30 finisher to a consistent 5 hour finisher, breaking 5 hours twice.  It took years, four years, of slow progress, setbacks, and challenges to get to this place.

I’m in the same spot in my life.  I know where I’m going, but it doesn’t seem to be moving fast enough to get there.  I feel like I’m plodding along, keeping my head afloat, and every ounce of forward momentum turns to a setback.  I know I’m being challenged, and I need to keep retooling and practicing and failing and learning and growing.  I need to accept that this process could take years, or even a decade, so I need to celebrate every step forward and overcome every setback.  Just like I believe I’m capable of being a faster marathoner, I am capable of living the life of my dreams.

We get so focused on success that we get demoralized and derailed by the first glimmer of imperfection, that first challenge or obstacle.  However, it’s the failure that causes improvement.  Don’t allow setbacks to hold you back.  Identify the roadblocks on your path and figure out how to overcome them.

Breakthrough, and first sub-5!

So runners, what say you?  What life lessons have you learned from running marathons, 5k’s or ultras?  What do you want to pass along to others?

Quest, Derailed

Yes, it’s been a year.

When I started this quest, I had planned to work on my blog every Sunday, then I met a cute guy and then we started doing Sunday Funday and then it was harder and harder to find time to do the blogs and….

But I was still running.  I was still improving, still moving towards the goal of the six marathons.  The blog was just to keep me accountable, and since I was progressing, there was no need to dedicate serious time for the blog, a good thing because it seemed that I didn’t have a lot of time and energy for it.

I was helping a friend (and working on my time) by helping a friend train for a marathon.  I worked out with the Libertyville Running Club and ended up running a 7:35 mile at the final time trial.  I entered both the Toyko and London marathon lotteries (but didn’t get in) and helped out on my charity team’s committee, hoping I can get a charity bib into New York.  The quest was progressing forward, and I didn’t need to be held accountable.

At the same time, there were subtle dynamics going on around me that I couldn’t ignore.  While everyone was super-nice with the run club, it did feel like a closer circle was forming, and typical of my life, I didn’t know what I did or didn’t do to be excluded from this circle.  I couldn’t be that upset, since 1.  I couldn’t afford to keep up with them because I have to save money for the marathons 2. My life was full and busy without them and 3. I was too shy to put any effort into connections.  However, the change in the energy affected my enthusiasm for the club. 

Then we had a little election.  For 99% of the country, they are armchair politicos, watching on news and posting on social media, but really have not invested any effort to impact the outcome.  However, my boyfriend and I work in the political field, so our lives can be dramatically affected by the vote.  In a Presidential year, it’s especially nerve wracking because so many voters chose their President and vote downticket that our lives are impacted by people who don’t even know what they are doing.

This election was contentious and emotional and angry, and in the end, the national election was the complete opposite of our local results.  While you can’t make politics personal—we are professionals, after all—there is a letdown, almost a grieving process, after an election.  Usually, most people go back their jobs, their lives, just as they are, pre-election, except for that 1%, like my boyfriend and I, whose lives were dramatically changed by the results.

This year, however, was different.  Many people were upset about the election results, including many in the run club.  Not only did I represent the other side, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many helped to turn my life upside down because they didn't see below the top of the ticket.  I was already feeling a little out of place before this happened, but now I felt isolated and unwelcome, to the point that I questioned why we were even doing this quest.

It was an extremely generous gift to have found my friend Christy, then.  She saw me through all this difficulty, running mile after mile and understanding my feelings.  And at my lowest point, she gave me a very special gift—a birthday marathon in New Orleans, LA.  It brought me back to running—and eventually, back to my run club.  However, my life is still very much in flux, to the point that I can’t make major financial decisions.  Consider it a setback in my quest.  We’ll be up and running and fighting again, but for now, it’s all about qualifying for Boston and writing blog posts, because that’s all I can afford to do.

Star #1: Chicago

Sometimes, you can be perfectly prepared just to be derailed by something you cannot control.  A perfect description of the Chicago Marathon.

I was ready.  Well trained, fully tapered, recovered from my cold with plenty of rest, and mentally determined to succeed.  I had a blast at the expo with my boyfriend, picking up my packet, taking pictures, and collecting tchotchkes.  I came home, packed my bag, and got to bed super early, knowing full well that rest might be illusive.

After a snooze at 3 am, I woke up at 3:35 am from alarm #3.  I was up, out of bed, and munching on a protein bar, thinking, “hooray, I get to run today!”  I was out the door and through the 7-Eleven (to buy my morning coffee) so early that I was the first person at the train station.  As soon as I got settled, one of my clubmates walked through the door of the station, ready for the start line.  Most people bring a change of clothes, wallets, water bottles, and other accouterments, so I couldn’t help but break into a smile to see him so ready to go.

We hopped on the train and had two more clubmates join us at the next stop, all filled with the nervous excitement of race day.  While the other three were in the fast “A” corral, I was the only one who had run Chicago previously.  My stomach was a little queasy, but I chalked it up to the coffee, the lack of sleep, and the nerves. 

We got into the city and headed for the Congress Hotel, where we were meeting the rest of the club.  About a dozen were in the lobby, complete with our hot pink running shorts.  A couple pictures, and it was time for the first wave runners to head to the corrals and me to my charity team check-in.  I walked north on Michigan with them, all a bundle of nervous excitement, as was I. 

On our way north, we bumped into another clubmate.  It was her first marathon, and she had been injured this summer.  Originally, she was going to start with me, but another clubmate who was closer to her pace was in a corral behind her.  I told her to start in the further corral with the other clubmate, who I knew would do a better job pacing her. 

One thing I love about my charity team is that we do a private check in, locking our bags in a monitored office instead of a tent in Grant Park.  I got there after the first wave runners left, and talked to the coordinator.  Apparently we had a lot of first time runners, and the coordinator remarked how calm I was.  (Ha!)  Well, it is my third year.  Talking to the runners, I asked who they were running for because with my charity, every runner has a friend or family member who has cystic fibrosis, and it’s a good reminder of when we get into the tough miles.  I put my bib on, drank a couple glasses of water, and used the restroom a couple times.  I was ready.

Two young women were leaving at the same time I was, so we walked over to the corrals together.  It was their first marathon, ever, and they were running for their brother who has CF.  They asked for advice, and that was simple.  “You will be challenged.  When that happens, think of your brother, and you’ll find the strength.”  We slid through security, and the photographers wanted a picture.  I told them to take a picture with just the two sisters—a great family memento. 

I scurried over to my corral, looking for familiar faces.  I wanted to start at the back of the corral, since my friends would most likely be in the next corral.  The pace group near me said 4:40, nearly a full mile/min faster than I wanted to pace.  I decided I wanted to be further back, but there wasn’t a 4:55 pace team.  It made my strategy easy:  don’t push until I met up with the 4:55 pace group.  I also was watching for my clubmates headed to the corral behind me, as well as if they were going to be in my corral.

It was a much longer wait than past years, when I got to the corrals right before they closed.  I milled around a bit, looking for familiar faces (and hot pink shorts).  Not seeing anything familiar, I then did what I always do at this moment:  chat with the people around me to allay my nerves.  My first marathon, I actually met someone who had a friend in common.  Small world.  No luck this year, but I met a person who moved to Texas over the summer—and was thrilled that it was “only” going to be 77 degrees. 

Then my stomach started to rumble, and it wasn’t the type of rumbling you wanted to have in a crowd full of people.  It was the rumbling of intestines that was dealing with something that didn’t agree with them.  Like I wasn’t nervous enough.  But….I had trained all summer for this race.  I had worked so very hard on hot days.  I had persevered when my intestines grumbled and rumbled.  One mile at a time.

We slowly moved forward to the start, and as I crossed the start line, it was a mix of emotions, the adrenaline rush of starting a race tempered by the nerves of how my digestive track would feel being bounced around by running.  It was much better than expected, and I was jogging easily, waiting for the 4:55 pace group.

The first mile went quickly, and the clock read 1:01.  If I did an 11-minute mile, it meant that I cross the start line around 50 minutes, making it easy to pace.  The spectators, however, were making it difficult.  I bumped into three people trying to cross the stream of 40,000 runners, one of whom was walking a bicycle.  As we started to turn to go north, I bumped into my first clubmate, who was trying to finish about my pace.  It was all smiles as we greeted each other, happy with excitement and adrenaline, but it was clear that I was feeling faster, so he urged me to keep cruising instead of waiting for him. 

When I hit the second water stop, I was greeted with an empty table.  Knowing that it was supposed to be a warm day, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was.  I ended up waiting for the volunteer to pour a cup, rather than moving along to one of the later tables.  While annoyed a bit at myself, I was grateful that it was early and not late in the race, when picking up water at later tables would be critical, especially on such a hot day.

Miles 2, 3, and 4 were easy, about 11 min pace, following the magic blue line that indicated the official measurement.  As I turned the curve to enter Lincoln Park, I met up with a runner in full firefighting gear.  I wished him luck, and then I got a tap on my back.  It was another clubmate, Trish, complete with tank top and hot pink shorts.  She had started behind me and was running well.  After a little chatter about pace, she told me to follow her.  The next few miles were just fun, chasing her around slower runners and feeling strong.  However, I was torn in my head because while I was enjoying myself, it was a smidgen faster than I had been pacing—and we had a long way to go.  I decided that since I was having fun and ahead of pace, why not.  We passed the senior apartments and waved to the residents, took the big turn in Lakeview to head back to the Loop, enjoyed the drill team and feathered queens in Boys Town, and jogged down one of my favorite parts of the course. 

By mile 10, I couldn’t keep up, but I was also looking for a special cheerleader—my boyfriend, who promised to be at the corner of North and LaSalle, before I made the turn into Old Town.  He was there as promised, with sign and cowbell.  I asked him how I looked, and he said, “strong.”  I gave him a kiss, told him I’ll see him at Mile 23, then trotted off to the next water stop—where I saw Trish again—and Old Town.

Around mile 11, the adrenaline was starting to wear off, but then I saw our old Team CF coordinator.  I knew I didn’t have a lot of time to chat, but I smiled and waved.  It seemed that every time I wanted to give up, there was another reason to push forward.

It was now around 10:30, and it was warming up.  I thought I would be drenched in sweat as the temperature was climbing, but I wasn’t.  However, the sponges at the next aid station felt so good.  As we returned to the Loop, race marshals were directing us to run in the shade of the buildings.  Soon I noticed that there were no lines for the porta-potties, so I took a short potty stop.

That stop threw my digestive track a bit out of whack, but I still grabbed the energy chews.  I hadn’t eaten in over five hours, and I figured that I needed the sugar and electrolytes.  I grabbed a cup of water, then walked while I ate the chews.  I then saw the clock.  Doing my back-calculation, I was right at pace, 2:30, which made me even more nervous because I thought I had been much faster.  I really had to pick up pace….but I couldn’t.  The chews had made my stomach turn completely upside down, too nauseated to run. 

At this point, I stopped having fun.  The 4:55 pace group came by, and I tried to start running again to keep up with them.  I couldn’t.  I was feeling very sick, so much that the things that usually motivate me through the second out and back—the crowd, the noise—was making things worse.  On top of it all, losing the pace group meant that I had lost my goal, a sub-5 hour marathon. 

As I walked along, trying to settle my stomach, I tried to plan what to do.  My cell phone was locked back up in gear check, so I couldn’t call my boyfriend.  Going to a medical tent could cause a lot more trouble than it was worth, especially when my emergency contact, my boyfriend, was driving down to mile 23 to see me with the rest of the running club, and trying to get to a medical tent at mile 15 or 16 would have been difficult.  Also, I hadn’t seen Heidi or Ann, so I wondered how they were doing.  I decided to try to make it to mile 23, then just stop.  I was ready to stop.

I meandered along, mostly walking, trying to find my run club teammates who had started behind me.  I felt tired, sick, and upset that after a summer of hard work, was going to fail at my goal.  The crowd, who had started cheering early in the morning, started to look tired as the sun passed noon and the temperature got warmer.  Water station tables were empty of both cups and volunteers, and even the puppets in Pilsen and the dragons in Chinatown were MIA.  It was exactly the opposite of my goal this year.  I wanted to feel strong, like the 4:30 runners in the inspiration videos I watched all year, and I wanted to be running in an excited crowd.  Instead I was trudging along in the back portion of the pack.  Rather than crowds, it was a smattering.  It was hard just to not crumble up and cry, but I was determined just to get to mile 23.

Even in all this frustration, there were points of hope.  At one water stop, I was surprised by a girl wearing a jacket from my local high school.  Like many of the volunteers who were sticking it out, she encouraged me to take her cup of water, even though I was already holding a cup.  As I started into Bridgeport, I met up with another guy who was walking.  His goal was more than an hour faster than mine, but an injury had him waylaid.  When a friend passed away earlier that year, he and a group of friends decided to run the marathon, so it was definitely not the day he planned.

Suddenly, I noticed a familiar shirt, one from a local charity.  I excused myself from the young man and trotted up to the man wearing the shirt, which happened to be a fellow runner with our club.  I was so happy to see him, despite my stomach troubles, and he was walking too, due to a foot injury.  We caught up about how our day was going, and he even encouraged me to run a bit.  I started to feel normal, but tired, when I got to the Mile 23 sign…

One of my clubmates spotted me about 25 feet before I got to the party that was Mile 23, where our entire club situated.  I cannot describe how happy I was to see a huge crowd, plus my boyfriend, waiting for me, the final member of the club to pass.  Of course, when I told them I was ready to quit….they wouldn’t let me, even my boyfriend.  Two members, I found out later, finished the marathon, then ran the three miles to this point to cheer the rest of us on.  When a friend asked what I needed, the answer was simple.  “Ice,” I panted.  After chewing and swallowing the ice, I felt better enough to keep going, and I raced forward to catch up with the clubmate I saw before I got to mile 23.  I surprisingly felt much, much better, just in time for the best photo spot.

When I turned north on Michigan, I was surprised with a “Go Erin!!”  It is popular to put one’s name on their race singlet, but here’s why I refuse to do so….it was a high school classmate I haven’t seen in decades.  Since I didn’t have my name on my singlet, I knew it was someone who recognized me rather than reading my name.  It was just the boost I needed to finish strong.

Here I was, hot, tired, and three miles to go….and then another clubmate appears.  He was coaching a charity team, and gave me a coach pep talk before he sent me north.

The last three miles of the Chicago marathon are the hardest.  You are exhausted, but as far as you can see is a marathon.  The turn into Grant Park—and the eventual finish—is about three miles away.  It’s hard, at this point, to mentally motivate yourself to drive to the end.  Since I wasn’t able to push as hard as I hoped in the middle third, I had some extra energy, and I was passing hot, tired runners left and right.  Before I knew it, I was running up the hill in Grant Park and through the finish line.

I was, in a word, exhausted.  I didn’t pause much longer than to pick up my food bag, a water bottle, and my finisher medal, then headed back to my charity team’s bag check.  My boyfriend was there with a bouquet of flowers, a hug, and a kiss.  I grabbed by bag and checked my facebook updates.  To my utter surprise, I took 8 minutes off my PR with an effort significantly less than I desired.

Writing this post, I was disappointed how quickly I lost my mental edge once things didn’t go according to plan. Had I just walked until my stomach calmed down, then leaned on my training to get back in the groove, I would have smashed my PR rather than tripping over it.  It was truly not the race I wanted to have, but there were a lot of lessons to learn for my next marathon.

One down, five to go…..

Rivalries and Nerves (Marathon Training, Week 18)

Six days before my first marathon in the quest, and nervous wreck.  Why?  A rivalry.

Now, I love friendly rivalries, the ones that push both of us to do our best and come from a place of friendship and caring.  It encourages me to be a better runner and person.  But there are also times where my Type A competitive nature gets the best of me. 

There’s a girl in the area who when I switched back to running, tried to take me “under her wing.”  While I appreciated her insight, she didn’t seem to understand that my goals and attitudes about running were very different.  I’ve been doing this competitive athlete thing a very long time.  I’ve been the kid too slow to make the varsity team when the team qualified for the state finals, and I’ve been the adult skater who was in first place at Adult Nationals.  I’ve weathered through illness and injury, but I’ve also struggled with motivation and confidence.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that your passion has to be in the process of training.

When we first met, I assumed, based on her constant signing up for races, that she was just as passionate about going out and running.  Nope.  She really didn’t do a lot of training runs, spent quite a bit of time nursing various aches and pains, and was tied to her walk/run intervals.  Plus, her attitudes and advice were definitely shaped by having the financial means to purchase gear and sign up for races.  Not only am I on a tight budget, but much of it didn’t exist when I started running. 

I really don’t care about other people’s running journey, since karma dictates that you will get out of the sport what you put into it.  But I’m not perfect, and her attitude just pushed my buttons.  Perhaps it was that she didn’t have the work ethic.  Perhaps I was jealous that I couldn’t afford some of the stuff she did.  When I saw her, I would work harder, run further, go faster, and for most of the summer, I was ahead of her. 

Well, in the past few weeks, she’s started to push herself, closing in on me.  On Sunday, she broke 5 hours in the marathon, a goal that I’ve been working so hard to do.  My heart just sank, and it triggered my past mental demons, from both skating and running.  I was nervous, thinking, “What if I’m not faster than her on Sunday?  If I’m not as fast as I want to be, can I redo?”  A long deep chat with the boyfriend eased the jittery feelings, but not the nerves. 

On Monday, one of my skating friends, trying to practice her Silver Moves test, posted the following advice to herself:  Do your best, and do it with joy.  It was the message I needed to hear.  I need to focus on my own race and not worry about what everyone else is doing.  Especially someone who is on a very different journey.

In less than 24 hours, Marathon #1.  A little excited, a little nervous, ready to do my best, and ready to do it with joy.

Food, Glorious Food (Marathon Training, Week 16)

Two weeks until the big marathon, Major #1, and I’m having some, um, digestive issues.  Mainly, that I either have to take a long bathroom break in the middle of a race or give myself hemorrhoids (or both).  When you talk about five hours of running, the discomfort and distraction is significant, and as I get closer to qualifying for the Boston Marathon, a bathroom break can mean the difference between qualifying and “see you next year.”

Now, I am the type of runner who tries to roll with the punches, no matter the circumstances.  There’s so much I can control (my training, my diet), but there’s a lot I can’t control (the weather, how my body will feel, illness, injury).  However, this bathroom issue is in that grey area:  I can control my diet, I can time my bathroom breaks, I can run through every discomfort, but I can’t control how my body will react to the race.

However, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get everything through and out my system, so the bouncing of running creates the need for a bathroom break.  I’ve eaten big meals, small meals, high carb, high protein, meat, no meat—with no relief.

My next plan is to significantly increase my fiber and water in the next week or so, to “clean out” my digestive track, and then hope there won’t be any extra left.  Wish me luck!

Injured? (Marathon Training, Week 15)

On Saturday, I did a supported 20 mile run.  In addition to a gear check and aid stations, it featured pacers, so it was an opportunity to practice not going out too fast at the start.  My lovely boyfriend signed up to run with me, and we were able to stay with the pace group through the first five miles before he decided to turn around and go back to the start/finish.

My goal was to stick with the pacer as long as possible.  When we got to mile 9, I really needed to use the bathroom, and that trip caused me to lose sight of the pacer.  I pushed a bit and caught up with them around mile 11…and then it happened. 

I’ve been having weird ankle discomfort on and mostly off this summer.  Not painful, but more like I need to crack it—but I can’t.  At mile 11, the discomfort turned into pain.  I kept running, kept sticking with the pacer, and by mile 14, was able to surge past the pace group because I was feeling so much better. 

By mile 15, the pace group had caught up, and when I had to switch my phone armband at mile 16, I started to struggle keeping with the group.  However, I did have the energy to sneak up behind my boyfriend around mile 17.5 and flip his baseball cap.  J 

I forced myself to continue jogging to the end, and actually did have a final burst of speed.  In the end, I was well under my goal pace, but my ankle was not a happy camper.  I struggled to put weight on it all afternoon and into the evening, and spent most of the next day icing and elevating it.

By Tuesday, it was well enough to join my running club for hill runs, but I fear I need new shoes before Marathon Sunday, which is 2.5 short weeks away.

In Memory of Lox

Last Wednesday’s fun run included laps around a local lake.  The streets didn’t have sidewalks, and the up and down of the hills reminded me of running around my hometown (when I actually did my off-season training).

The sun was slowly setting, and on the last lap, I saw a house where the husband was working out in the garage.  The house was clearly similar to ones I remembered seeing on family walks as a child—a greenhouse window in the kitchen, a garage filled with tools, a dark brown stained exterior, a wooded lawn—and then I flashed back to another memory from college.

After sophomore year, I decided to stay on campus over the summer, working at the admissions office, as did many of my friends who were in a fraternity.  The university rented out the fraternity houses to the summer student employees, so I rented a room in my friends’ fraternity house.  I had run on the cross country team my sophomore year, but academics—and a cranky knee—caused me to stop running and focus on my classwork. 

Shortly after we moved in, one of my teammates asked if anyone wanted to join him on an evening walk around the neighborhood.  Remembering my childhood walks, I jumped at the chance.  It was a chat about hopes and dreams and happy memories.

That summer—and that conversation—was probably the last time we spent significant time together.  He went off to graduate summa cum laude, finish med school, and become chief resident at a hospital, I barely graduated and got a job as a bench chemist, laid off, unemployed, eventually landing at a consulting firm doing quality and validation work. 

Had you told me back then, that it would be me, not him, to finish the Chicago marathon first, I wouldn’t have believed you.  While training for the 2003 Chicago Marathon, he was hit by a car and killed.  I ran the 2013 Chicago Marathon in his memory.  He would have easily qualified for the Boston Marathon, so if I qualify, it will be run in his memory as well.

The Long Run (Marathon Training, Week 9)

We’re getting into longer and longer Saturday runs.  15 miles, 13 miles, 17 miles, 20 miles…these runs train your mind just as much as they train your body to handle the 26.2 miles on race day.

Long runs are, well, long.  At my pace, I have to plan ahead and block out a half day for a run over 15 miles.  After 10 miles, you’re tired, bored, and so ready to just stop.  In summer, it’s hot, and in winter, it’s cold.  After 15 miles, hunger and thirst sets in, and on a 20 mile day, you’re feeling like the miles will never end.  It’s time to dig deep and figure out how to mentally distract yourself from everything.

Race day is much, much easier.  You’ve been planning this day for weeks.  The crowds, the excitement, the adrenaline create a fun atmosphere that distract from the long mileage.  Then….you hit mile 14 or 16 or 21 and you realize that you’re tired.  You still have an hour or two to go.

That’s when training kicks in.  Not only are you less physically tired, but all the mental tricks you’ve used to gut through those long solitary miles also come into play.  It’s an invaluable experience to draw from when a marathon is smaller, with less cheerleaders and less populated courses.

Running with a club helps so much, because you can chat about everything from the weather to running to TV while knocking off those miles.  Since I’m at a slower pace, my experience is hit and miss:  some days I have a lot of friends to chat with, and others I end up on my own for over an hour.  Either way, I’m preparing for the long miles of a marathon.  Now if I could just do them at sub-5 hour pace….

Hot, hot, hot! (Marathon, week something-or-other)

Two weeks ago, it was one of the first 90 degree days of the summer, and of course, we had our weekly Saturday morning long run.

I grew up running in all weather conditions, including a thunderstorm that blew up in the middle of the 3200 during a meet.  Treadmills and gym memberships were expensive, and even our school wasn’t air conditioned.  Races were held, rain or shine, hot or cold—so training was done outdoors.

That was quite some time ago, before we really understood hydration and heat exhaustion.  However, races are still held when the temperature rises, so your body has to be ready for race day, regardless of weather.  Like a couple weeks ago, when a half Ironman triathlon and a half marathon were both held locally.  It was warm, but all my clubmates were well trained for conditions and finished strong.

Some common sense about hot days:

• Dress appropriately.  I saw several people running in capri length tights and t-shirts.  Running heats up your body, so you want to wear as little as possible, even if you are chilly on your first mile.  Trust me, your body will heat up very quickly.
• Hydrate.  Water.  Electrolytes.  Whether it’s a relay around public drinking fountains or carrying a water bottle, don’t ignore hydration.  It’s pretty obvious on the day of the run, but also be mindful of alcohol/caffeine the day beforehand as well.  Choosing water over wine at dinner might make the next morning so much easier.
• Listen to your body.  The entire point of running in bad weather is learning how your body reacts.  Knowing how far you can push yourself can save you a trip to the medical tent on race day.
• Go in race simulation mode.  It’s why you’re training in hot weather—for your hot weather race.  On race days, the adrenaline will often take over for common sense, so preparing and planning your strategy on a hot race day will make it automatic, saving energy for the race while also staying safe.

I was able to test all of these things a week ago Saturday, when the temps weren’t so bad, but the chosen route was in the sun almost the entire time.  The only running bottoms that were clean and not designed for winter running were a pair of capris.  Knowing it would be warm and humid, I decided to pair with a tank top, following the above rule.  I had eaten a very salty dinner with a glass of wine, so I had a glass of water when I went to bed.  Even with all the prevention and planning, the run was awful!  I was hot, thirsty, and just wanting to stop running three miles before the end. 

Last Saturday I was smarter.  I only had water with dinner, which contained fresh blueberries, peaches, tomatoes, limited caffeine intake, and wore an opaque sports bra under my shirt so I could remove if necessary.  It made a world of difference, which helped me mentally.  (That is the subject of my next blog post.)

My club’s marathon training plan started this week with yesterday’s long run, and my run was a stomach-knotter, literally.  I had gone to a gala the night before and something didn’t really agree with me….but it was my coffee that really put my intestines in a knot.

As I’m suffering through eight miles, I started wondering why I was suffering so much….and it came down to my morning coffee.  Okay, I am completely addicted to coffee.  I get excited to try a new blend or roast and drool when I read the phrase, “chocolate notes.”  It’s what I need first thing in the morning, but I’ve gotten into the habit on run club mornings to grab a few extra moments of sleep and pick up my morning coffee on my way to our meeting spot.  Any runner knows the problem with this logic. 

(On the plus side, guess what my extra large coffee on the way to the Wisconsin half failed to do?  Good thing I had all that practice, sigh….)

So my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to get up early enough to have my coffee at home so that my intestines are relaxed and ready to run.

On a side note….I am a charity runner for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, so I’d be crazy not to post the link to my donation page.  Please click here to contribute, and thank you for your support!

Marathon Kick-Off!

This past week I have been super lazy, almost tapering because I start training for the Chicago Marathon.  Of course, “lazy” means “less than 10 miles.”

Today I kicked off marathon season by running the CF Superheroes 5K this morning.  Last year, it was a 90 degree day, so to turn around and be in the upper 40s this morning was a surprise.  I had planned to wear my marathon shirt from last year, but with the forecast, changed to my LRC long sleeved shirt.  I still wore shorts, and despite being a windy, chilly day, was very warm after the first mile, so I was very, very glad I didn’t keep my warmups on.  The chill (and the positive energy from the LRC) made me push all that faster, and I ended the day under 30 minutes for the 5K, not far from my collegiate PR.

It is hard to believe that when I did my first LRC run, I looked at my run app, realized that I was running sub-9 pace, and thought, “holy cow, I am sprinting.”  On Tuesday, marathon training starts in earnest with a track workout and a mile time trial.  My goal is to run that mile around 8:45.  I’ve come a long, long way in a short period of time, and I have miles and miles to run before October.

Of course, full training is more than just running.  I have to purchase my pool pass for the local park district.  I have to clean and prep my kitchen so I can cook and eat healthier food.  And as a charity runner, it means fundraising… 

I kicked off my fundraising with an online Origami Owl party.  Their main product is lockets that you can customize with various charms, from a 26.2 to crystals in a rainbow of colors.  It’s very much like those online parties for other direct sales companies, except that I’m giving my hostess proceeds to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.  I would be a horrid fundraiser if I didn’t post the link and code.  To purchase, go to superangie.origamiowl.com and use the jewelry code:  95450

And thus I start my first mission on my quest.  18 weeks of running and fundraising, with some swimming, some distractions, some challenges, and some adventures spattered in the mix.  There will be lessons learned and wisdom gained, achievements and setbacks.  I’m looking forward to this next chapter.

Perfect Day!

Wow, yesterday’s half marathon was absolutely amazing!  Hollywood could not have made my experience any better, and I’m even struggling to put so many wonderful memories into words. It was an absolutely perfect day.

As I’ve posted, a running clubmate offered to pace me, and we talked on Wednesday.  I told him I wanted to do an 11:15 first mile, and he said that was fine.  He knew my goal—below 2 hours, 30 minutes, so his job was to keep me under 11 min miles.  The week had been a little crazier than I expected, especially with bedtimes, so I was a bit nervous trying to fit all of my prep in before Friday.  I flew up to Kenosha after work to pick up my packet, did a shakeout run around the start/finish area to see if I had planned the right amount of clothing, grabbed a snack, and made it home to rush around and pack everything I needed for race day.  

The crazy bedtimes really affected my ability to relax and fall asleep.  I finally konked out at 11 pm, which would be fine except that my alarm went off at 3;45 am.  Oof.  I was able to wake up and get out the door so early that I ended up being the first customer at Starbucks.  I did the drive to Kenosha while singing one of my favorite songs:  Roar by Katy Perry.  I parked in the commuter rail station garage and got myself ready to go.  I hadn’t planned on checking my bag, so I had to do the half-mile walk to the start line in my usual plastic bag and race gear.  I found my pacer, and even got a picture with another clubmate, before heading to the start line.  We lined up at the 11 min pace line, listened to the same silly banter they do at the Chicago Marathon, and soon enough, we were crossing the start line.

John had done the race before, so he knew the area and the course.  I was pumped with adrenaline at the start, and the first mile was just trying to not let that adrenaline take over as we laughed at the various signage because this section of the course was repeated.  At the first mile, we were joined by two other clubmates who had gotten stuck in the portapotty line and started at the back, despite being much faster marathoners.  One decided to move ahead, but Ann decided to hang out with us for a while, then do negative spits on the back half.

The first miles went through the nicer area of town, and we were enjoying the architecture of the homes and waving to people enjoying the race while having coffee on their back porches.  It was a comfortable pace, and all of us were having no trouble chatting as we turned north and headed towards downtown.

At this race, any sort of cheese apparel allowed you to start in the “cheese corral.”  (It was Wisconsin, after all.)  It was fun to see the various cheese heads, slices of cheese—even someone dressed up as a cow.  And of course, there were the beer ladies, women dressed like waitresses at a German beer hall, complete with stuffed mugs of beer.  Soon we were crusing through downtown and the live band, talking about the shops and how to go through a water stop.

After we went through downtown, the course went north in an out-and-back loop.  As we started our march north, we started to see the leaders.  We had many clubmates running, so it was an adrenaline boost to play cheerleader for the other runners.  It was almost a checklist, making sure that everyone was running well and sticking to their pace.

I was still feeling great as we made the turn…and then I saw how far away the lighthouse (finish) was.  I focused on cheering on other runners, looking at costumes, and continuing to chat with Ann and John, who kept saying I was maintaining a good pace.  At one point, Ann asked me if I had children…I said that I didn’t because I was holding out for the right man, and another runner who was passing us said, “You’re a smart girl.”  Hilarious.

However, my legs were tiring, and watching all of the walkers at the end of the race made me want to walk, too.  Ann and John started urging me on, saying that I going to smash my goal PR, and I was able to make mind move over matter.  Across downtown again, which was mentally challenging to pass the finish line, but John knew the course and talked me through how close we were the split and our finish.

I was eternally grateful that I made the decision to underdress.  The day had warmed up considerably, and by mile 11, I was hot in a wicking shirt and compression shorts, craving a bucket of ice.  Soon it was mile 12 and the turnaround back to the finish for us—and the back half of the marathon for Ann.

When Ann left us, John told me I was pacing for a sub 2:15.  What?!!?  My tank was pretty much empty, it was warming up, I was getting thirsty, and if I pushed, I would beat my goal PR by 15 minutes. I focused on my breathing and finishing, but there was no more push left in the tank.  I strided instead of kicked, and John grabbed my hand so we could raise our arms at the finish.  His watch said 2:19, more than 11 min—a full mile—ahead of my planned pace. 

We grabbed medals, fluids, and John’s bag, then waited for our top marathoners to finish.  The second half of the course is brutal on a warm spring day, and they were a bit slower than they expected.  I ran back to the car to change into warmer clothes, now that I had cooled down considerably, and when I came back, our club was in the middle of an impromptu dance party.  Curious about my pace, I ran over to the results tent and received my results.  I did a half marathon—13.1 miles—at 10:37 pace.  Sub 11 min miles.  I was in shock, and when I returned to the party, squealing over my time, there was celebration.  We were still dancing when the 6 hour marathoners were finishing.

What has me stunned is that when I look at my winter running, I only did half the planned miles.  If I did the workouts, slept well, and ate right…could I have been even faster?  Going into the Chicago Marathon, I am just inspired to dedicate myself further towards my quest and hopefully break five hours in the marathon.  With this crazy running club, I’m starting to believe anything is possible.

Detox

The word “detox” seems to have caught some buzz of late.  The big thing in nutrition is to detox your colon, detox from unhealthy, chemical laden food.  But how about detoxing from an unhealthy lifestyle?

This past week was my most stressful week of the year at work.  I went for a long run on Monday and just felt, in a word, toxic.  I have been giving in to my junk food cravings.  I’ve been ignoring my budgets.  I haven’t been kind to my friends.  I haven’t been taking care of my cat or my house.  It is as if my life is filled with all sorts of detritus that is impeding me from being the person I want to be.

I know that if 1. I’m going to qualify for Boston and 2. Run Boston, I have to conquer all of these things, since last week was the worst of it—and tomorrow is the Boston Marathon. 

So it’s time to reboot everything, a life detox.  Clean out all of the things that were put on hold the last couple of weeks.  Get my diet and budget back in check.  Clear my mind of the negative energy and stress that interferes with my empathic abilities.

I’m taking a few vacation days this week to start the process.  First, I need to get my kitchen organized and clean so that I can cook from scratch, reducing the amount of processed food I’m eating and allowing me to stick to my food budget.  Second, I need to reduce the clutter in my house, so I’m going to do a challenge where I put 100 items on eBay in 100 days.  As these items sell, the additional income will also help clean up my budgets.  Third, I’m going to dedicate time for meditation, practicing the ability to quiet my wants and needs so I can listen to others.  Finally, I still have a half-marathon in May, as well as signing up for the Chicago Marathon this fall, so there are many miles to be run.

It’s frustrating that my quest has gotten so far off track so quickly, and I hope that by finally taking the time to detox, I can get back on track.

Not Such a Solitary Venture

When you think of running, you think of the lone runner, racking up mile after mile after mile.  You see the joggers on the road, ear buds attached to their phone strapped to their arm, and start pondering the long and winding road.

I started running on my high school cross country team.  It was a very different experience, meeting after school every day to run together, whether it was a 6 mile run around Crystal Lake or the evil interval “bowl” runs, named because we ran around the bottom of the hills at Veteran’s Acres park, which hosted our home course.  There was comradery and teamwork, and I always struggled running in the off-season without that support.

Including last year’s marathon.  It seems, when I’m stressed about all the things I have to do, running is the first activity to get axed, despite that it should be the last one.  It showed during the Chicago Marathon last year.  I was so slow that I saw people starting to take down the water stations.  (Yes, there was plenty of water for the runners behind me.  They just didn’t need all the tables when most of the runners had passed.)  Now, there are some runners who are happy as clams to do a 6+ hour marathon.  God bless them, but I’m not one of them. 

I joined my local run club’s Facebook group last year, but I was so busy and stressed that I never could make it to one of the runs they organized.  However, after the marathon, I was tired of being so slow, so I came out to a Saturday run.  I found a few people who run a little faster than my pace, and it felt so good to be challenged while also making new friends.  I’m now a regular on both the Wednesday night and Saturday morning runs, and I can feel the difference when I do run on my own.

Last Wednesday, I ran with someone who can run a marathon in four hours.  We were doing intervals, and I was thrilled that I was able to maintain sub-10 minute pace.  Afterwards, the social activities continued at a local watering hole.  One of the near-Boston-qualifying runners offered to run the Wisconsin Marathon with me, on the condition I do the half.  So I’ve decided to do the half instead of the full. We enjoy chatting, so it will be a lot of fun.

On Saturday, I showed up a few minutes late, right as the group started to run right past my car.  I hopped out and joined the group.  Since I’m one of the slower runners, I knew I would get passed by most of the group until I hit my pace group, and it was fun to have a few words of greeting with everyone as they breezed past me.

Eventually, I got to my group.  We’ve been running together long enough that our conversations continue from week to week, and when one of us miss a run (because life), it’s very much time to catch up on what has been happening in each other’s lives.  I had a great time, so much so that I was over a minute ahead of my pace.

So progress is happening.  A sub 2:30 half marathon is in my sights, and with my running club, it is entirely possible.

Just because I’m slow doesn’t mean I’m a beginner....

Yesterday I challenged myself by piggybacking on a Boston marathon training group through my run club.  It’s sponsored by Fleet Feet Sports, who also support my charity team.  While I am hours from a Boston Marathon qualifying time, I’m glad to have the opportunity to participate with some fantastic runners. 

While I was clearly the only one there who had a marathon pace over 10 min/mi, I never felt excluded.  My club is very encouraging of people who are at all paces—the point is to be out there running instead of sitting at home—and even the organizers were encouraging of my pace.  I had a lot of fun being out there with really good runners and exploring new roads.

However, I don’t like being slow.  I’m trying to work very hard to *not* be slow anymore, but you don’t just magically wake up and take three minutes off your marathon pace.  It takes time and hard work and dedication and overcoming obstacles and determination.  So when a runner flew by me, saying, “Good job!  Keep it up!” it came off as condescending, like encouraging a newbie.  I was a rookie in 1989—over 25 years ago.    

With 10 more miles to run, it gave me a lot of time to think about it.  When I see another runner on a path, I don’t assume their history, their background.  Every runner’s story is different, and rarely do you know a runner who has a career filled with success and devoid of failures.  I don’t know if that strange runner is on mile 2 or mile 20, a beginner or advanced, going as fast as they can or having one of those days where they’re sucking wind. 

My mind then wandered towards the situation when I’m faster than the people who I see walking and jogging in my area.  I have read stories and blog posts about women being harassed because they’re trying to get in shape or lose a few extra pounds.   I can imagine that the petite girl jogging at 11 min pace would look intimidating to the person already self-conscious about being out of shape and just starting a fitness program.  Especially if they were a competitive athlete as a child.

In general, the running community is extremely supportive and encouraging.  As we pass each other on the roads and trails, whether on an organized run or going solo, an acknowledgement is common, so I know the other runners had the best of intentions by encouraging slow little me.

 

Because of all of this, I tend to say, “Nice day for a run” or “Good morning” when I see another runner.  I may just wave, saying nothing, especially if I’m doing a tempo or interval run.  A familiar face, where I know the background, gets whatever they appreciate:  a fist bump, a “go you,” or even trash talk.  The point is to connect without seeing one runner as “above” another, since, in the end, there is no ranking, only PRs.

Happy birthday to me, 

Happy birthday to me, 

Happy 40th birthday dear me, 

Happy birthday to me. 

I turned 40 today. At 20, I dreamed that by 40 I would be married to my college sweetheart, have finished my Ph.D., raising a mess of children, with all the ups and downs and growing love of a long term relationship. However, I also had visions that I would be the quintessential bachelorette who had loved and lost, traveled around the country, owned a home, even had a cat…which was strange because I’m allergic to cats. Well, I have an awesome career, my own home, and even a cat, despite the allergies. I’ve had adventures from California to Boston. What do I not have? A spouse or children, or even that Ph.D. I could be depressed, angry, frustrated….or I could take advantage of the situation and figure out what *I* want to spend the next 10 years doing.

I got into marathon running a few years ago after the man I thought was Mr. Right decided I wasn’t right for him. Living in Chicago, my first marathon was a major, so the question, “what next?” was a bit complicated. That’s when serendipity appeared. I received an email about Abbott becoming the title sponsor for the World Marathon Majors, the six major marathons. Three are in the US: Chicago, Boston, and New York, but the other three are in Toyko, London, and Berlin. I’ve never traveled to Europe or Asia.

I then mentioned the idea to the leader of my local running club, which I joined a few weeks earlier than feeling slower-than-dirt at my second Chicago marathon. He said, “well, do it now before you have kids.” I replied, “Actually, I’m almost 40 and a true bachelorette, so kids will probably not happen.” He said, “then totally go for it.” My fate was sealed.

The challenges are huge. My PR in the marathon is 5 hours, 39 minutes, and Boston requires a time of 3 hours, 55 minutes to qualify. I’d be considered an “international” runner for three, which could mean additional restrictions on entries, never mind the costs involved. Plus there’s juggling five trips with a job where I can’t just take a week off of work whenever I want. However, I see the process of overcoming these challenges more important than actually completing the races.

My birthday present this year is a quest: to complete all six major marathons in my 40s. Why a quest? A quest is just as much as how one grows and changes on the journey towards a goal; Lord of the Rings would have been fairly dull if it had been “Frodo Baggins traveled to Mordor to destroy a ring.” While I have a defined goal, the story will come from my adventures along the way. To keep me accountable, I’ve decided to blog about the experience. Rather than a weekly listing of mileage, I hope to tell the ups and downs of running towards a lofty goal, and the story of my 40s as a result.