Your Mother Did Not Raise You to Be a Quitter: The 2013 New York Marathon Race Report

So some of you have already heard me gushing about New York, but I can't stop talking about it.

 


I am sitting here nursing a cold that's been coming on for over a month, thinking about howI'm going to explain New York.  I don't have any idea how I can keep this short; there are so many amazing memories from the race this weekend.  (For one, I want Brooklyn and Midtown to know this: MAJ loves you!!!!) 


So let me first apologize for the length of this entry today.  But there are just so many reasons why this race was extraordinary. 


On the morning of my 6th marathon, I woke up in New York. The City That Doesn't Sleep. The Big Apple. My favorite place in the world.  I thought I'd be nervous about running 5 hours with a bad head cold. I thought I'd be anxious about making the aggressive goal I've been chasing (and head colds and stress fractures have thwarted) for the past two years.  I even thought I'd be a little sad that I only get to do one marathon a year and I almost didn't get to do this one.

But I wasn't.  I knew, in my bones, that this would be a special day.

It was a very emotional week for me. For one, we raised $1785 this year, which puts my lifetime totals well over the $3,000 mark for the ACS.   For another, I carried over 30 names with me through the 5 boroughs and I did that - as I figured I would -  with a lot of smiles and tears. So many smiles that my face literally hurt from smiling (although, for some reason, the professional photos only caught me during the "hurting" moments!)

I've often said that running a marathon is a transformational experience, but New York is unlike anything I've ever done.  You wait a long time to start, but even getting to the start is an experience. Once you're there, it's walls of people and energy and culture and excitement and love - no better word for it - love like you have never seen. Or felt.  You're never alone - not for one tenth of a mile of the race; there's always something to see.  Even as you exit Central Park and collect your poncho, the volunteers are reminding you that you run this city, that YOU are the marathon. 

I felt like this was my first marathon all over again, except I wasn't a lost little kid wandering Philly alone this time, but surrounded by all my favorite people and places. 

The night before the marathon, I headed to the ACS Team DetermiNation dinner. I'd been up since 3am and I was trying my best to fight my cold but failing. My ears were plugged up. Just as I got off the subway on the way to the dinner - running late, of course - I reached behind my ear and discovered the back to my earring was missing.

I am very superstitious:  I have only two specific pair of earrings and one necklace I will wear during a race.  This particular pair was from Mom, who had given them to me recently because she'd gotten tired of wearing jewelry and she knew I would love them. And love them I have - especially the fact that they have screw-on backs, which actually have to be turned like screws to go on and off, making a klutz like me a lot less likely to lose them. 

So there was no way I was going to run this race without them.  But, with a back missing - a special back that I'd have to pay a jeweler cash I don't have to replace - there was no way that was going to happen.

As I sat there at the dinner and we talked about the people we have loved - and lost - the tears flowed freely down my face.  I lost track of whether I was wiping my face because of the cold or the tears.  I cried because I wanted to wear those earrings.  I cried because I know they're just things.  I cried because I didn't want to tell mom about the lost back, and because I wanted her to be there. I cried because I have a lot of other things going on in my life.  And I cried because I had no clue how I was going to run 26.2 miles in such an emotional state, with such a bad cold. I kept reminding myself, if you believe good things will happen, they will - whether they actually happen or you just choose to make the things that happen good.  I really, really, wanted to turn this into something good.  

And then later, in the hotel room, as I lay out my race gear for the next day (still crying a little), I saw it. Near the door to the bathroom, calmly nestled between the tile and the carpet, sat the earring back.  With the earrings were screwed - much more tightly - into my ears, and I knew that my Mom was there.

So I have to tell you now that I missed my lofty goal time again this year.  I have to tell you that because I want you to know why it didn't matter to me.

Every time I got tired, or sore, I had a little conversation with my mom.  I know that sounds crazy, but it worked.  I would say, come on, Mama, I need you now. or Just you and me, Mama, we got this.  Or sometimes it was Mama, please help me get through this. I am doing this for you and I want to honor you. Each time, she'd give me a little push, and I'd pick my feet up a little higher and carry on.


I asked for her help a lot.  The Staten Island bridge is such a long climb that you don't even hit mile 1 of the race until you've crested it.  No joke - you climb that sucker for almost an entire mile.  And it's one of about 5 slightly shorter - but still brutal - bridge crossings.  As I crested the bridge at mile 20 or so, I glanced up and I saw my name on the sign.  I thought to myself, there is no way my name is on that sign; but since it was a good half-mile up, I had a lot of time to stare at it. I realized the sign was announcing a parkway named for a Major, the abbreviation of which is MAJ. 

I still felt like it was for me.

But by far the sharpest memory was the first time I wanted to walk all race, between miles 22 and 23.  I usually only walk at the very end if I absolutely must. And I had been on track to hit very close to my goal pace, making my fastest splits at miles 16, 18, then 20, even 22 - but miles 20-21 just did me in. I kept talking myself out of walking a little.  I kept telling myself how close I was.  I kept asking my Mom for her help.  I kept trying not to be queasy, but this time it didn't work; I was too sick and tired for mental energy to pump me back up.

Right when I thought I had to stop and walk, I rounded a corner and saw someone holding a sign that said your mother did not raise you to be a quitter. You're almost there. 

I forgot I felt like puking because I was too busy crying. I only walked parts of 24-26.       And I found out later that my parents had been watching the race on TV, hoping to see me pass by. 

So, I was right.  Mom HAD been there with me.   

Make no mistake about it, NYC is a very tough marathon. I still managed an 8 minute (15-second-per-mile) personal best, but I have a long way to go to the next level.  And I am obviously taking a good week to recover from this cold. Which is how you find me with enough time sitting on my ass to keep writing for this long.


Training, racing, and fundraising for New York this has been a most incredible experience.  And for that, I have a lot of wonderful people to thank. 

And I have a lot of (hopeful) plans for the Off-Season . . . and for 2014.

Stay tuned.

If You're Scared, Say You're Scared: 7 Days to NYC

Thoughts have been dancing around my head haphazardly lately, like odd little bubbles that get startled when they come too close to each other and burst out of reality before I can wrap my arms around them.  I have been unable to organize them into anything recognizable, and so I sit, stone-faced, thinking all of them, thinking none of them, writing nothing.  Eventually, they scatter into the air, leaving no evidence of ever having existed.

The Taper has arrived, complete with its characteristic madness. 

7 days left until the NYC Marathon.  My first New York Marathon.  The biggest marathon I've ever done.  For the first time in the plan, I am scaling my running back a little.  That's not just because I am tapering (and my last "really" long run of the season was cut short by not feeling well and a really sore left calf), but also because I am going to be at a conference for the week of the marathon walking around a lot.  There is no point in tiring out my legs a whole bunch this week when I'll be running-a-little-yet-walking-a-lot next week.


Sure sign that it's marathon time!

This is where I really enjoy the break, but it's also where I begin to worry a little.  The worry isn't whether I can run 26.2 miles; not only have I done that 5 times over the last 7 years, some of that while at my illest (I'm a living breathing Beastie Boys song), I've done it within the last few months, sometimes over just 36-72 hours.

No, at this point the question - the inevitable question - is can I really make my goal? 

I only run 1 marathon a year most years, so I don't have the luxury of having a "fun marathon" and a "race marathon" -  I get one or the other.  So if I'm going to pick, I'm going to make my 5k, 5miler, or 15k my Fun Race and make my half or full marathon my Goal Race. And yes, I would eventually like to BQ, which is a giant and - truthfully - terrifying goal.  I have almost 2 hours to lose.

If you're scared, say you're scared.

If you aren't at least a little scared, your goals aren't big enough.

I've pulled off some crazy PR's at the marathon.  In 2011, I did two marathons: one was a 30+-minute PR and the other was a 40+ minute PR on top of that.  In one year I took over an hour off of my marathon time.  I turned around just 3 months later and completed an almost unplanned century ride at an almost 20mph average. Now, I started out slooooooow, so it's not realistic to PR by that much every year, but still - I know what I'm capable of.

I know what I'm capable of.  So it's hard for me not to expect a lot.

If you're scared, say you're scared.

Last year I absolutely trained my ass off, and then a mild stress fracture and a bad upper respiratory bug set my training back.  On top of this, I faced a hillier race than expected and unplanned humidity.  I managed a 6-minute PR, but my goal was to finally get under the 5-hour mark, and I was still 29 minutes off.

Did that ruin the time I had or spent with my family afterwards? No.  I had a freaking blast during - and after - the race.

But I trained even smarter AND harder this year. And I gots me some unfinished bidniss with this 5-hour mark. And I'd like to handle that bidniss in The Big Apple.  And considering that I'm The Girl Who Once Scored Two 30+ Minute PR's in the Same Year, I feel like I ought to be able to handle ONE 30-minute PR at ONE marathon.

If you're scared, say you're scared.

I get sucked in a lot by critics, whether it's the Little Voices in My Own Head or Other People Talking Shit.  The truth is, in the end it's HOW I feel that matters much more to me than how fast I ran. I'd rather run a Good-Feeling Normal or Slow Race than an Awful-Feeling PR. But sometimes I let people make me feel bad for having lofty goals.  I let people make me Feel Like I Can't. 

I get kind of scared.

My goals are big.  My goals are scary.  Some of them are reasonable now; some of them won't be reasonable for months or years to come.  And there are a lot of them I may not reach.  But I will tell you this: I'm going to have a hell of a time trying.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

And no, I ain't perfect.  No one walkin' this earth's surface is. But . . . work with the kid.

- Jay-Z

I did some awesome things this week.



The Original MAJ, circa 1964

First, I tracked down this photo of my Mom from 1964. This was when she and my Dad were dating.  It used to be my favorite photo of her when I was a kid.  We all change a lot over the years, but it reminds me of when I was young enough to think that my parents were the most brilliant, beautiful/handsome people in the world.

I will tell you more about my plans for this photo later. I don't think Mom reads this blog regularly enough to see them if I post them, but let's keep it on the DL for now, shall we?



Next, I decorated my singlet for NYC.  Whoop whoop!



Then there was a birthday gathering this weekend with some of my girlfriends, one of whom is an amazing makeup artist and I have to tell you, watching everyone both with and without makeup was amazing.  I was overwhelmed by how lovely they all are, inside and out.  I couldn't stop complimenting everyone on their shoes, their jewelry, and just their personalities in general. 

We were chatting with the photographer about how some of us are very picky about pictures of ourselves and have a harder time finding a lot of photos we like.  There were some great ones taken and a lot that I did not care for; having photos taken is always tough for me.  I tried to explain that I feel like everyone should feel good about how they look in pictures, so there isn't really anything wrong with being picky about which shots you like. But, from the perspective of someone who's always been curvy and battled chronic illness, it is often hard to explain to people how being larger can make you feel in a society that prizes tininess above most things.   You see a picture of yourself and think that is not how I look in real life!



Photo shoot girls night!

Looking through the photos of my girlfriends, I realized the a lot of photos didn't really look like them in real life, either.  So many of them are pretty on film, but absolutely stunning in person.  The photos, while some of the best I've ever had taken, just couldn't capture their internal beauty.  It reminded me of the picture of my mom from 1964. It was her favorite picture of herself back then, and although she'll say I don't even look like that anymore, it is a reminder to me of the days when I was a kid and I idolized her.  It reminds me of what a lovely person she is - although I'm sure it does not do her justice - and that she has always been someone I looked up to. 

A picture is worth a thousand words, but the memory is priceless.That isn't to say that a picture that makes you feel like a rock star is not a bad confidence booster; it just means that a really good one takes you right back to that day/time/memory, which is way more valuable than just how we look.

At the end of the hard days I think about the hard stuff I made it through.  Like finishing the week's homework and feeling like I accomplished a lot at work.  Like running 32 miles this week (part of which was running 17 miles yesterday but feeling like I ran 10.) I think about how lucky I am to know so many intelligent, decent women.  I think about all the support I have received over the last few years as I have made tough decisions and got ill, then well again. 

And I remember that I won't always have all the answers. But that's ok.  Because, if I did, I wouldn't have any reason to ask the questions.  And sometimes asking the questions takes you on the adventure that changes everything.

When Last We Met, A Toast to Jack Daniels, And More

It's been a while, so I thought I'd share one of my favorite toasts. 

Here's to Being Single, Seeing Double, and Sleeping Triple

Today it has nothing to do with whiskey, getting drunk, or being promiscuous.  I'm talking about being a single-digit/mile pace, running double runs a day, and sleeping as much as I need.  All dreams of my "perfect week."

Not this Jack Daniels

I'm fond of my vino, don't get me wrong.  I grew up in a big European family, and it's really common for everyone to have 1-2 beers or glasses of wine with dinner several days a week.  But I'm not a whiskey gal.  And I am NOT a "stay out past midnight" or "get hammered then work out two hours the next day" person.  I'd rather have a glass or two with dinner to enjoy it and be functional than go out oontzin' all night long. (Oontz is the sound that really loud dance club music makes, if you're not familiar.)

So enough about oontzin'.

When last we met, I was 8 weeks into my training plan; now I am 8 weeks from my marathon.  Time flies when you're having fun.

Wait, was I having fun?

Actually, yes.  Some amazing things have transpired over the last few months: first, I am (95%) sure I have managed to work out my trip to NYC.  Second, I have raised all but $108 of my first goal of $1500 for the ACS.  Next, mom's on her second round of chemo and she is doing GREAT.  She is feeling better than anyone at her cancer center thought she would. 

And finally, training is going great.

I managed to resolve both my runner's knee and shin issues (mentioned the shoe laces in my last entry, but the knee was also worked out - lots of strength, stretching, and good ol' rest-when-I-need-it-kinda stuff.)

This Jack Daniels

On that note, I re-discovered Jack Daniels.  Don't laugh, but when I say this in my head it's almost equivalent to someone finding religion.

Jack Daniels is amazing.

The Jack Daniels I speak of is not the famous whiskey brand but the famous running coach.  Dr. Daniels is considered by some to be the greatest running coach in the world, and he's the reason I train like I do. 

Everyone has a plan that works for them.  My plan is the one that doesn't make me run crazy long every weekend but still trains me hard and lets me rest when I feel like I need it.  I don't follow the traditional, you-must-run-2-or-more-20+-mile-runs-before-the-race plan.  And it's totally fine if someone does.  Every now and then, I think about doing that too.   And then I start to get injured, or tired, or grumpy.

This month a huge bout of vertigo and migraines hit me.  I ran out of my migraine medicine.  I found out I had an ear infection.  And then I started to get sick, tired, or grumpy. When Last We Met, I was doing that - and getting the mid-plan jitters.

When I finally bought Dr. Daniels' book last month, my confidence in my training returned.  That helped my consistence return.  The following and previous week to my vertigo spells I had my two highest-mileage weeks of the year and felt fantastic physically.

Dr. Daniels has a couple of philosophies I follow.  They're very common-sense, but they're backed by science.  And they work great for me, both mentally and physically.

1) Don't run longer in training than 2.5 hours or 16 miles. Research shows that there's no physical benefit to running over 2.5 hours and there's increased risk of injury.  Run your 20+ miles on race day.  (He even trains world-class athletes this way.)

2) Rest when you need it.

3) He sometimes has his runners do two quality (hard) sessions on back to back days, then do a rest day, to maximize schedule and minimize delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) as well as temptation to go too hard on one quality day.

4)Speaking of maximizing schedule.  Just because you're not doing 2-3 18-mile runs, 2-3 20-mile runs, and possible some 20+ mile runs, you DO get mileage on his plans, but it's easier to manage. On his plans, you set aside about an hour a day to run on most days (sometimes a bit less, usually a bit more) except one longer quality day and/or a long run of no more than 2.5 hours or 16 miles.  So your planned workout time is relatively predictable, and even if you need a lot of rest, you can get in a 20-40 mile week without having to do a 4-hour+ long run. (The "fast people" will get in 50-80 miles a week on his plans.  20-40 is plenty for me.)

5) Double down.  This is my favorite.  Some days I do my 2-2.5 hour run, then go back out 4-6 hours later and do another 2-4 miles.  Other days I do my 2-2.5-hour run, then do an easy couple of miles or more the following day.  It's made HUGE differences in my DOMS, energy levels, and confidence! It's just as challenging as running everything at one whack, but more fun.  (I think.)

Anyway, I am certainly no expert, and everyone has their own thing, but I'm really happy to have gotten into his book so I can focus myself mentally on "why" and "how" I'm training.

The next 4 weeks are the hardest, then the taper slowly begins.

That's all I got to share for now.

More Wise Words from Dad, Mid-Plan Jitters, and Awesome People

A black cat NEARLY crossed my path during this morning's hour-long easy run. I saw it all but dart out from behind a parked car; then, just as quickly, it reconsidered.  What's the point? she's just going to find a way to turn it into good luck somehow.

A few weeks ago, I realized that I may not be going to New York at all this year because of the combination of my medical expenses, my cats' medical expenses, and travelling to see my parents.  That possibility is still very real, but - as my dad once said - there WILL be other marathons.  And, who knows what could happen from here?  I've made a habit of turning bad "luck" into good; I could figure out a way to make it work. 

I read an article recently that supported this: the gist was, when we overcome adversity (death, severe illness, divorce, bankruptcy, cancer, family trauma, etc.) we build a sense of self-efficacy.  We know that the other things life will throw at us is just what my dad would call small potatoes.  We stop saying "woe is me" and starting say "whoa, I am a badass."

So I made the commitment to keep training, and I made the commitment to keep fundraising for the ACS, whether I make my goal of making it to NYC or not.



I'm proud to say two things:

1. I'm only $370 from the minimum commitment I agreed to raise, and 65% to my personal goal. Last time I fundraised for the ACS, I had no idea how hard it would be to ask friends and family for money.  I was very naive and felt like those closest to me would (naturally!) think it was as great a cause as I did.  I realized quickly that everyone's idea of a good cause is different, and that's totally fine. Everyone has a cause they're passionate about (mine is simple - cancer blows).  This time, I've also spent a lot of time and effort cooking up cool events (wine nights, ladies-only parties, online bake sales!) and communicating interesting information to my fellow athletes and supporters. It's been both fun and productive.



#suckitcancer

2. I'm 8 weeks into my training program. I had a few really rough weeks where I was in testing for my cysts/lymph nodes, transporting cats all over town, pet-sitting and finishing the Spring semester of school, and I didn't feel great (ask anyone without a thyroid or with thyroid disease what it's like to have their medication dose changed!)  I am way farther ahead mileage-wise than I was at this time last year, and with no stress fracture.  I have had a little runner's knee but I have solved most of my shin/calf issues: MY SHOELACES.  I've been doing this for almost 7 years and had NO CLUE they could make your shin and calf muscles sore!  I even discovered a gel I can take without pooping myself.  (Thanks again, K-Dub.) 

P.S. - an hour-long run in Florida weather = major chafe.  The area where my bra goes is all blistered up.  Yuck!




And these two points bring me to 2 others. (Ok, 3.)

1. I have REALLY awesome people in my life.
2. No, really.  REALLY awesome people. 



Bastards

3. Dad's always right.

On 1 and 2: I have had many friends and acquaintances; some were my best confidants. People I could tell - and DID tell - just about every thought I had.  Oddly, it's made me appreciate the beauty of keeping some of those thoughts to yourself.  The people in my life right now are so positive, SO supportive, and provide so much perspective, that they prove we are the sum of many of our actions and not just one thought.  That keeps me feeling positive about life and about gaining perspective before speaking or acting. Keep positive, happy - and GROUNDED - people around you and watch the world change! No, it's not going to put extra money in your bank account, or stop every bad thought that comes - but it WILL improve your outlook on just about everything.

And on the 3rd. It's not secret that my parents are two of my best friends (the title of my blog comes from Dad, after all).   I'm not sure if it's because they've been going through a lot or I've been going through a lot, but we've become closer than ever and I find more and more wisdom in their advice.  Recently I had the opportunity to advance in a professional setting, and I was offered an interesting choice because of it. And then I got the mid-plan jitters; I noticed (like I do every year) that everyone else I know is out there running 16-20 miles on their long runs and my long runs are just 10-12 right now.  And that's when The Coach says to me, not you PR at every marathon, but something to the effect of, it's just mental at this point. 

Which sounds an awful lot like something my dad would say. In fact, just the other day he told me (regarding my professional choice), just step back and do something else for a while, and when you return to it, the decision will come to you.

It's just mental at this point.

Whether you think you can or you can't, you're right. - Henry Ford

My dad didn't say it - but, if he'd been around back then, I can bet you he would have.

NYC Week 4/5: Answers, Results, and Ballin' on Budgets

This week we got some more answers and results. . . two things you know I adore.  But it has not been without its challenges. 

 

Mom is on a month long break from chemo and done with radiation.  In mid-August, she'll go back to chemo, but for a higher dose.  (Thankfully she only has to go biweekly.)  I'm planning to visit for Christmas when she'll be done and feeling up to having company.  I can't wait.

 

Fundraising Progress

Last weekend I had my first big fundraising event for the ACS, and it was a blast!  My roomie (on the left in this shot) helped me with a lot of the organization.  We got rained on, but we raised another $200 for the ACS.    (Next up . . . online bake sales, girls-only party, and possibly a good old-fashioned car wash!)

 

Training is Coming Along Swimmingly .

This morning, I went to Lucky's Lake to celebrate a friend's 100th crossing.  It was a great time, and a real milestone for her, so I purposely organized my training schedule to do it.  This week has been a stepback week, so all my runs were short (2-3 miles for short runs and 6-8 for the long run).

 

Good thing, too - even outside of work and school I have been slammed. We found out that the Little Kitty has a pancreatic disease - she's been losing weight because her IBS makes her poop/puke when she gets anxious and her pancreas don't metabolize food properly (lots of fun for me to clean up!)  This is good news, though - the vet thinks B12 shots and adding pancreatic enzymes to her food should turn her around in the next few months.  The Big Kitty is still battling a regrowth of his tumor, so it looks like chemo is in his near future, unfortunately.

 

New York, I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down - (LCD Soundystem)

As athletes, we talk a lot about making sacrifices. We sacrifice sleep in order to work out; we sacrifice eating and drinking what we like. But the sacrifice a lot of people don't talk about is the cost of being able to do the sport(s).  I've mentioned before that I'm already a multi-sport athlete on a budget - and that is definitely a challenging feat to accomplish.  Because I love it, and because it makes me feel well, there are a lot of things that I've given up over the years in order to be able to continue racing. I've given up getting my hair done in a salon, for example. I have a friend do it instead, and I only get it done a few times a year (he does a magnificent job, which is fortunate!) I also don't race as much as my colleagues, I have to stick mostly to local races, my gear is all 6-7 years old, and when something breaks, I have to find something used to replace it.  I often receive race entry fees as birthday and Christmas gifts. These are just a few examples.

 

Needless to say, my own doctor's visits and the extra vet visits brought with them some financial strain.  Despite all the work training and fundraising, I almost had to give up my trip to New York.  I may still have to.

 

Less Me, More $$$

The challenge has increased recently - not just with the vet visits, but with my non-sport life.  I might have mentioned that my endocrinologist has been harassing me about my weight - he wants me to lose more to help with my insulin resistance, polycystic ovaries, and overall endocrine function.  The irony of this is that, since my surgery, since I've had a stable dose of thyroid hormone in my body, and because I have always been very active, my weight has continually dropped to the point where I'm almost at my pre-illness size (or smaller). I always eat well within reason, and I allow myself treats - I don't believe in deprivation or starvation.

The endo, however,  still wants to see me at a weight that is almost unrealistic based on the fact that my body fat is somewhere in the 20's right now, despite my my weight being  "high" for someone my height.   So I had that tested and started using the Weight Watchers food journal online to track my food so I can show him what I'm doing, and that it really is my lack of thyroid slowing down my weight loss.  I'm hoping that when I go back to see him in the next 3 months with this data he will just shut up.

 

In the meantime, because I've lost so much weight over the last three years, I've had to go back to my old pre-illness wardrobe, which is now 10 or 15 years old, and even those things are starting not to fit me anymore. (Goodwill has been LOVING my regular visits with old/too-large items.)  The things that do fit are pretty old and raggedy.  But with all of the added expenses, plus cutting corners to afford running shoes and races, I won't be able to replace anything in my "real world" wardrobe for probably the better part of the year.  (The dress you see me wearing in the picture above cost me $7 and the necklace was $12.  On the plus side, ballin' on a budget makes you a wicked-accomplished bargain-hunter.)

 

At some point I'm going to have to cut my racing back so that I can actually afford to have clothes for the other 75 percent of the week when I'm not working out; right now, I am not ready to make that sacrifice.

 

And that's what I got for Week 4/5.  Up on next week's plan: we're up to 5-a-week runs and getting ready to throw in some two-a-day workouts.  Hold onto your oh-shit handles . . . this should be fun!

Fast is Relative: The 2013 Watermelon 5k RR

Just around mile 2.5 - realizing
I was about to PR

If you drink, don't drive - do the watermelon crawl . . .

-Tracy Byrd

This week's speed work was a local 5k called the Watermelon Run.  It is always on July 4th, is an untimed fun run where only the top 10 times are even posted, and is always sickeningly humid.  The race includes - of all things - a watermelon-eating contest.

I didn't sleep very well last night, it was almost 90% humidity, and I had only planned for a Fun Run to practice my speed and my new 5k strategy.  So imagine my surprise when 1)I ran into some of my favorite athletes, 2)the strategy worked - didn't blow up until about mile 2.5 when I usually blow up at mile 1.5 . . .and 3) I beat my best time by 10 seconds.

 . . . per mile. 

An unintentional 30-second PR at the 5k distance.


Afterwards, during breakfast with my friends, one of them said to me you are fast.  Of course, I don't think I'm fast, so I told her that.  Her response was
you're faster than me, so that makes you fast in my book.

It made me really think about how fast is relative. No matter how fast we get, there will always be someone faster.



Tired, hot and sweaty - but so happy

It also made me think of something I once said in this blog: no matter how fast I get, I never want to stop having fun.  I am certainly going to have my moment where a race didn't go as I would have liked and I didn't finish in the time I'd hoped, but I still think giggling is completely appropriate before, during, AND after any race.

The PR was a big confidence booster.  The past few weeks have been rough. Mom is midway through chemo and not feeling so hot. Arnie's tumor is coming back, so he is back on his second pill (2 pills a day, then 3 every other day).  I also have the other cat relocated to encourage her to eat (so far so good), so I am traipsing back and forth to see her too.  I also have follow-up doctor's appointments for all the tests of my own.  Just getting in 2/3 to 3/4 of my workouts has been hard.



Fast is relative

I may have mentioned that one of the frustrating things about being young and having health challenges is the lack of ability to feel young and free. I handle that pretty well most of the time, but with all the new stuff added in, I find myself feeling somewhat isolated. I can't see my friends as often as I want. Sometimes it's hard just to juggle school, work, and workouts.

Workouts - and races - are my escape.

Today's race was a much-needed break from the monotony of work, study, sleep, tend sickies.  I got to PR, I got out for breakfast, and I got to see some of my cycling/running friends.  I can't think of any better way to celebrate Independence Day than getting free of my own little world and out of my head.


All in all, it was a brilliant day.

Happy 4th of July!!

Marathon Season, Week 1: Welcome to the Good Life

Love him or hate him  . . .

It's the good life
Better than the life I lived
When I thought that I was gonna go crazy

-Kanye

I used to do something called the week in song lyrics.  This evolved out of songs that got stuck in my head during my long run that seemed to really stand for what was going on in my training life that week.

Pink started playing on my Slacker Radio station right around the midway point of my 9 mile run this weekend.  I was feeling pretty pissed that I was so slow.  I mean, I know the heat index was over 100, but I've been doing this for almost 8 years now.  Shouldn't I be faster!!? That led to all these thoughts about how will I ever get close to a BQ? 

And then this song came on.

Where there is desire there is bound to be a flame
Where there is a flame, someone's bound to get burned
But just because it burns, doesn't mean you're gonna die
You gotta get up and try, try, try
You gotta get up and try, try, try

OK then.

Week 1.

You'd notice something odd about my training plan if you looked at it: it is unconventional.  For the most part, that means I go CONSERVATIVE as hell.  My long runs are light and not as frequent as most. To keep injury at bay, and to keep my triathlon fitness, I also cross-train more than usual: at least a weekly ride that ends up being 20-50 (even 60) miles, and/or a swim, plus strength.  And then other times I have to be aggressive because of my schedule.  Rarely, this means put two hard workouts together, or my long run only 3 weeks before my "A" race (many reasons).  That's the point of having a Coach, even an online one.

Now, I know I probably can't keep such an oddball schedule and BQ, but that's ok. This isn't a PR or BQ year at all, but I've still PR'd every single marathon I've ever run. I have a goal for this one (because if I didn't, my Type-A tendencies would cause me to twitch), but I am perfectly ok just getting through it considering the circumstances.

Which brings us back to that 9-miler. Pissed. Slow.  Hot.  Rainy. Etc.  That Pink song came on and, for some reason, I thought back to when running 10 miles was so challenging that for a few days after I did what I affectionately called the "10-mile waddle."

Now I start the first week of a marathon plan with a 9-mile run.  And then I go ride hills the next day.  And weights the day after that.  And there ain't no waddle. And, thanks to KDub, I have found a gel that doesn't make me poo my pants.

Better than the life I lived
When I thought that I was gonna go crazy

So maybe I'm not exactly BQing yet.  But I'm getting there.  I'm well enough to be somewhat consistent.  And I'm finally feeling fit enough to not be killed by a 9- or 10-mile run.  And I've maintained enough fitness to jump into a 9- or 10-mile run whenever I need to do it.   

Welcome to the Good Life.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey . . .
I'm good

When You Get to the End of Your Rope - aka I'd Rather Be Lucky Than Good

When You Get to the End of Your Rope, Tie a Knot and Hang On.

 

This quote is attributed to Abe Lincoln, but who knows if that's who really said it.  A lot of things are attributed to the wrong person out here on the internets.  I know, because I've been the subject of a few such misattributions. (Is that a word?)

 

The reason you haven't heard much from me in the past few months is that I have spent all my energy tying a knot in my rope and holding the f*&k on. I honestly have not even been training a lot. Which is shocking, because I just scored a 5k PR, another completed 5k, and a another "accidental" century - got dumped by the group and spent the latter half mostly in my aerobars, alone - good practice, right?
 

My love affair with 2012 was no secret.

Now, 2013, on the other hand . . . I just had a feeling that 2013 would not be the year of PR's and joyous achievements that 2012 was. No, I was going to need a lot more luck to get me through Lucky 13.

But then, I've always said I'd rather be lucky than good.
 

My mom, as you may know, is a diabetic (it's why I am pre-diabetic; damn genetics).  She has been on Metformin, a common diabetes medication, for years.  Many doctors and patients know that Metformin can cause an upset stomach or indigestion. So my mom didn't realize that her indigestion had grown extremely severe.  In fact, she didn't have indigestion at all - she had a gallstone and what was called a "bleeding ulcer" in the old days. I went to visit her when she got out of the hospital.

 

That same week, I went for my quarterly checkups feeling exhausted and they found a mass in my lymph nodes. The endo told me it was probably just leftover thyroid tissue, but he ordered another test, and I moved on.

 

I had just enough time to catch my breath, and we found out that mom's ulcer was cause by the bacteria that causes stomach cancer.  This is such an aggressive and difficult disease to treat, and my parents are the most important people in my lives. I felt like my entire life was crashing down around my ears.

 

I had just enough time to catch my breath, and we found out that there was a spot on my mom's lung and she would need a lung biopsy.

 

I had just about caught my breath again, when I found out that my dad has coronary, peripheral AND carotid artery diseases. Tests revealed severe artery blockages and the evidence of a recent heart attack, and by the time I'd caught ANOTHER breath and booked a plane flight back, he'd had a second heart attack.

 

At this point I wasn't even ready to breathe.  Work has been hectic and I have taken on some additional responsibilities.  I am in the middle of a large and very confusing project with my classmates. And I was about to start midterm exams when all this hit. Mom's biopsy looked good, so getting an earlier flight back home on the way back seemed like an omen of better things to come. 

 

And then I got a call from my vet's office that my oldest cat has a type of tumor called a mast cell tumor, which is a form of feline and canine cancer (his royal fatness, above).

 

I spent several months just trying to re-establish my routine, and then, when that started to happen, I came down with a two-week cold which halted training and I got the results from my CT scan back.  The news was not very good.  Both the ultrasound and the CT showed evidence of more lymph node metastasis and a likely surgery, maybe even surgery plus more radioiodine, in my near future - at the very least, a painful biopsy.

 

I was at the end of my rope.

 

Mental list went something like:

1. Curl up in a ball and cry Maybe for a day or two.
2. Throw things I like my stuff too much and don't want to be in jail for throwing someone else's.
3. Drink heavily Too hard to keep working and do this, and I hate the way it feels.
4. Drop out of class  This too shall pass, and I'll be pissed I didn't finish a semester when it does.
5. Spend a lot of money Ha, ha, ha - and afford my medical care HOW?
6. Give up Are you shitting me?  After all these years of hard work to start getting back on my feet again?

So, I did the only thing I knew how to do . . . I tied a knot and hung on. 

 

And here you find me.

 

Alive.

Still employed and earning A's.

Not drunk - or hungover.

Certainly not curled up in a ball.

No stuff has been broken - mine or anyone else's.

I haven't gone to jail, spent too much money, or been anywhere close.

 

Life moved on - because I told it to.

 

And, despite all the overwhelmingness going on around me, I committed not only to my guaranteed entry for the New York Marathon this year, but also to fundraising again for the American Cancer Society.  Because the fundraising funds the research, and the research funds the treatments, and just about everyone from mom to me to my kitty needs that right now. (follow me here http://main.acsevents.org/goto/maj)

 

Yes, I will keep training through surgery.

Yes, I will keep training if I have to have more radiation.

Yes, I will keep training while I travel to my parents' (I have been doing this already).

 

Because THAT ^ is what happened when I got through all this the first time.

 

So, this may not be a PR year.

This may just be an "I finished" year.

An "I was lucky not to lose anything year."

 

And I'll take it.

 

After all,  I'd rather be lucky than good.