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.

Postcards from the Road, NYC Edition...

Race report to follow....eventually!!
Let's just say this is a deceptively hard race.  Again this year I did not bring home the 30-40-minute PR I have in the past, but still a PR of almost 20 seconds/mile for 8 total minutes.
The PR, however, is inconsequential compared to the experience, which was nothing short of magnificent. New friends, old friends, good times, great food, tons of waking, and a reminder of how much I'm looking forward to living somewhere besides Orlando.
Some really special moments happened...to say the least.  It will take me a few days to compose my thoughts.
In the meantime, PCFTR....NYC Edition.

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.

Thoughts on Tapering - and Friday

Sometimes people ask me why I continue to do marathons.   I'm obviously much better at short-distance events, and they really can take a lot out of you.

Although cycling is my favorite of the three sports, marathoning gives me something I never get from long-distance cycling. Maybe it's partly my internal desire for more control.  The other day, while running along with my Cycling Mentor, I was explaining to her that there's so much less to go wrong on a run than a bike, and that I know even if I have to stop to walk I will still move forward.  On a bike, though, so many things can happen that are out of your control: your chain can drop; your tire can pop; your gears can fail you.  And if you need to rest, tough.  You gotta keep pedaling or you don't move.

And, while I also love to swim, I definitely don't get as much out of swimming, which my poor confused brain still - even after several hundred-thousand-yard years of drills and lakes and 2.5-mile ocean swims - STILL equates with banana daiquiris and pool boys and vacations. 

No, marathoning is a spiritual experience for me.

Sometimes I start out the season hating the long runs and wishing they'd end; other times I start out hating my speedwork and just wanting to run long and easy.  Sometimes certain muscles are weaker than others.  There are always laughs; there are always tears.  Actually running for 5 hours straight, especially through another city, is nothing short of transformative. 

Every year that I am marathon training, I learn something new.  Sometimes it's a little simple thing like how to lace my shoes; other times, it's something huge like how much more powerful the mind and spirit are than the body.  I have learned that, while cycling is my social sport and I'd rather not ride alone, it is hard for me to run with others. 

This year I learned what a real taper is.  Usually my taper is pretty drastic (big reduction) and early (4-6 weeks out).  This is partly because it's usually been forced by illness. This year my taper didn't begin until 3 weeks before the race, and each week my mileage only decreases by 2, 3, maybe 5 miles. So it doesn't feel like a sudden drop, but instead a gradual release.

Probably the way it was supposed to feel all along.

And now, since this has been a rather serious entry, let's talk about how excited I am that it's Friday.
I shouldn't be excited because I still have exams and a "long" run of 10-11 miles before I can do anything relaxing or productive . . . but I am.

. 

Encouraging More and Competing Less: a Tribute to My Workout Friends

It's been a rough couple weeks.   My little cat's treatment for her IBD and pancreatic disease has not been successful, so we are having to add a pancreatic enzyme to her food.  Running back and forth to the vet has been trying.  Hearing that she pooped in a flip-flop because she couldn't make it to the litter was upsetting.


Back to a 5-year-old phone for me

Then, my eye prescription changed again.  I just tried getting used to a new prescription in February and I thought I was good, and then BAM! Migraines, blurry vision, vertigo, etc.  Because of the inner ear/eye relationship (Doctor Google vestibular-ocular reflex), it can be really hard for me to get an eye prescription that works without making me dizzy.  Running back and forth to the eye doctor has been trying. 

Next, my phone died.  All you Urban Athletes out there like me (I mean those of us who live in mid-rise and high-rise buildings) can relate: I use the RunKeeper GPS app for those days when my running watch GPS will not lock because the city blocks it out.  Oh, and tunes. So now I really can't use either, because my backup phone is +5 years old and barely makes calls/sends texts.  My phone contract isn't up until January. Whee.

Last but certainly not least: Mom's chemo has been stalled.  Her platelets are down and the onco thinks it might be something besides just the chemo.  We have another week of waiting for them to come back up to see what the next plan of action is.

Long story short: I needed some encouraging.

I am a big fan of a blog called Becoming Minimalist.  It's all about doing more with less (less material things), but along the way the author(s) and guest author(s) share their discoveries about how doing this has changed the way they look at life.

The other day they shared a list of ways to "encourage more and compete less."  Apparently, the author ran a marathon and was impressed by how supportive the other runners were. I thought right away about my workout friends.  I don't get to see them much now that we are on different sides of town, but they ARE so encouraging. They've set up cheering stations for first-timers at other races. They're zero-ego, zero-drama, fun people who are willing to share what they know about the sport(s).  They have never stopped to pick apart someone else's plan/workout but instead just stop to say, "Do you!" or "Nice job!"



Awesome workout friends. Always learning!
Always encouraging!

During the MAJathon, I met up with some of them.  We didn't all run together, and we didn't all force each other to run together, because we are all different paces and on different training plans.  ( I run Daniels; they run Galloway. We even talked about this before the race.)  They all have a zero-drama attitude: we all went at our own pace and were happy just seeing each other before, during and after the race. No one was upset because someone couldn't run with her: one of the ladies had to go to work afterwards; I had to go run another 4 miles. Sometimes we hang out and have breakfast afterwards.  It really just depends. 

I have learned a lot from them - not just about the three sports but about how to be a good sport.

So, in their honor and in that spirit, here were some of my favorite suggestions from the blog on how to encourage more and compete less.  I have received some of these from some of my supporters for the ACS fundraising I'm doing.  There are a few things on here that I actively do, and there are definitely some that I am working on.  But I think they're all wonderful, so I wanted to share.

  

Refuse to speak negatively of other people (publicly or privately).

Send consumers to other competing businesses if they can better meet their individual needs.

Use cards, telephone calls, and emails to offer encouragement to those around you.

Publicly promote other people’s success stories.

Ask how you can come alongside to help.

Share your ideas with others. The free-flow of information will always come back around to you.

Attend local, community events and promote a “teammate mentality.”

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.

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.

Another Week Bites the Dust

What a long few weeks it's been.  It's been relatively eventful, so without further adieu, I give you a dozen victories and small happinesses from this week.

 

 

1. I successfully upped my weekly run count to 5 and got in a swim - first one in almost 2 months.
2. The little kitty is eating like a champ thanks to her steroids and started her B12 shots.
3. The Fat Guy is the best pillow buddy of all time.
4. Tiffany blue nail polish (and for only $2.99).
5. A great long run, faster than most of my short ones this week.
6. A small break from class. I did some homework, but nothing was due.
7. Next week is the final week of class. The following week is finals.
8. Fresh cobia.
9. Baseball.
10. A 4th or 5th week in a row of planning and cooking tasty, healthy dinners for the week.
11. Mom is keeping food down for the first time in a few weeks and sounding perky.
12. I have enough gas to get me where I need to go.  This sounds simplistic and corny, but sometimes, when things are crazy, the best feeling is the simple feeling of knowing you have enough.

Here's to another productive week.

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!

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

Pre-Marathon Season Week 1 - In The Bag and Up the Hill

Welcome to Pre-Marathon Season, Week 2!

 

The Loaf

I feel like a football player . . .  in the pre-season, doing a lot of testing and planning for the months ahead.

Pre-Season Week 1 went more or less as planned: lactate threshold tests (swim, bike, run) and not much else. Establishing a baseline for the coming months.  I'm not very good about remembering to do my LT tests at the prescribed intervals, but I do try to at least keep them up semi-regularly to see how I'm progressing. I raised my LT heart rate 3 beats on the run, while the bike and the swim paces stayed more or less the same.

Just like the last year that I was successful and uninjured (2011), I'm going to keep some swimming and biking in my routine, but there will be some new speed and endurance work this time.


The bike LT test took place in the "hills" of Clermont (the only hilly place in Florida - about 1500 feet of climbing.)   It didn't end up being much of a test since I forgot to hit "lap." This included 3 climbs up 312-foot Sugarloaf Mountain. "The Loaf," as I call it, is the highest point in peninsular Florida. It probably was less of an LT test and more of a Sufferfest.


Canonical correlation output in SPSS

We also did 2 climbs of sister hills "The Wall" and 1 of Buckhill.  It was only 30 miles, but holy crap - what a way to get back on the bike after a few easy weeks.

I had to stop twice on the last climb up The Loaf, if that tells you anything.

As a bonus, last week's stats homework didn't kill me, either.  Let's hope this week's exam doesn't, either. (I'm hopeful, even though I complain a lot.)

There's a lot of craziness, but there's a lot of good stuff ahead.

Walking Away

I'm walking away
From the troubles in my life
I'm walking away
Oh, to find a better day

-Craig David

 

 

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!

 

CHILDREN OF ALL AGES!!!

 (disclaimer: actual children should probably not be reading my blog due to the salty language)

 

MARATHON SEASON

 

HAS BEGUN!!!!!

 

WOOHOO!! Lactate threshold testing week and marathon season ARE HERE!  (You won't hear me woo-hooing later when I actually have to do the LT tests.)

 

Thank GOD they weren't last week, though.  I can't believe I survived last week. Between recovery from vacation, work, and homework - it was what my one coworker calls "a shit show."

 

At work we're on deadline, and I spent about 16 hours on Saturday and Sunday alone working on a tough statistics assignment. It wasn't anything earth-shattering, it was just stuff I either haven't done in almost a year or haven't done yet.  So it was really hard to grasp from an online lecture. And this weekend I have another assignment like that, plus a project in my other class, AND I work 6 days of the week.  Plus marathon season starts.  Plus it's LT test week.

 

Help.
 

HELP!!!!!!!

 

Kidding.

 

(Or not.)

 

Yesterday I announced that my blog address had changed to reflect my appreciation for my Mom, The (real) Original MAJ - but I have made it no secret that my Dad is also one of my biggest sources of inspiration.  It's funny how we go through different stages of attitudes toward our parents as we age.  We go from they don't know what I'm feeling to maybe they know more than I thought to they know everything, let me ask them their opinion.  Now, I've always been close to them, so my parents just don't understand phase was remarkably short, but I still appreciate them more than I did when I was younger.

 

Anyway, so at one point yesterday I finally just gave up on my homework. I was in tears of frustration, my head hurt and I felt incredibly stupid.  That's when I remembered my dad telling me a story about one of his bosses who made him walk away from a really urgent problem to clear his head.  When he sat down for coffee and relaxed a bit, the solution came to him, clear as day.

 

Now, no magical solutions about my stats problems actually came to me when I walked away from it for a while (and, admittedly, I had to walk away three times - once for breakfast, once for lunch, and once for dinner) - but, I certainly felt less frustrated and brain-fogged when I returned.

 

When you return, it never seems as bad as it was.

We tend to think of walking away as abandoning a goal or giving up, but sometimes, walking away isn't permanent, and walking away from other things in our lives can give us perspective.  For example, I've walked away from this blog a million times and came back to read it and think, oh crap, was that really how I felt that day? I've even had relationships from which I or the other person walked away. At the time that they ended, I felt like my world was turned upside down, but then later on I would see both myself and that relationship in a totally different light and be able to appreciate what it was and how it had contributed to my life (and even, in some cases, appreciate that it no longer existed). 

 

In 2010, I walked away from triathlon.  Yep, I thought my world would end.  I'd never tri again, I would get slow, I'd get fat, whatever, whatever.  But it ended up being the best decision I made. I was able to decide if triathlon was what I really wanted (it was), if Ironman and coaching was really my goal (nope), and come back with a new appreciation for being able to move my body.  (Of course, recovering from surgery and radioactive iodine helped with that too, but you get the picture.)

 

This blog is often my way of "walking away."  It lets me sit down and read other people's workout tales, jokes, and life experiences.  It lets me vent about my own. It helps me understand my own reasoning.

 

And then, when I return to real life, it somehow doesn't ever seem as bad as it was.

 

Yesterday I thanked my Mom for encouraging me to be an original (even when it sometimes makes you feel odd, or alone.)  Today I'd like to thank my Dad for teaching me the importance of perspective.

 

Now, it's time for me to walk away from this blog for a while and accomplish some other things.



Tour of the Original MAJ - New York 2013

I'm going HERE

This weekend I get to go on my first vacation in two years.  It's only a weekend, but it's a REAL vacation.  We're talking NO doctors, NO hanging out at the fam's house, NO getting up at 4am for races, not really even any training (expect general fitness to keep me from gaining 1000 pounds since I plan on eating some good food). I will actually get to come back to the hotel and kick my shoes off at the end of a day, eat at restaraunts I like, go to the beach, and walk around a LOT.

Mind you, I haven't had a full vacation in going on 10 years now.  The last time I went anywhere out of state for longer than 3 business days, not to see my parents or race, was around 2004 when I went to Cancun for a full week with one of my best friends.  Don't get me wrong, I love going to race. And I have the best family and friends who support me every birthday and Christmas with race entry fees because they've all come to realize that's all I want.  But there's something to be said about that not-having-to-watch-what-you-eat-and-sleeping-past-4am part.

Something else happened this week that is of note (besides Baby's First PET Scan - a WEIRD experience. More about that later). 

A while back I told you the story of how I became The Original MAJ.  I'm reviving that tale for a reason, so bear with me.  I have done the American Diabates Association Tour de Cure Century two or three years now, and the last few years have been in honor of my mom, who is the REAL Original MAJ, because she is diabetic.  Never in a million years did I guess that she would get diagnosed with cancer right before this year's ride. 

As you might also recall, I love to give things - especially races and events - a fun name.  I called 2012's ride The Tour de Mom.  I called Rocket City 2012 El Cinco.  So it seemed only fitting that I find a good name for New York 2013.

Trust me, I started with the cheesy New York references. I'm in a New York State of Mind;New York, I Love You, But You're Bringin Me Down (my time, that is); Start Spreading the News; I'm Taking a Bite out of The Big Apple; 5 Boroughs in 5 Hours (ok, so I still like that one since I'm still aiming for that damn sub-5-hour mark!)


And then I was looking at my link for donations for the ACS this year.  They're always http://main.acsevents.org/goto/THISISWHEREYOURNAMEBELONGS.  I usually pick "Meggan Ann" as my name (since, you know, it is.)

This year, as a nod to my Mom, the best race spectator I have ever had and now a fellow survivor - and to those who've called me MAJ most of my adult life - I made it http://main.acsevents.org/goto/MAJ

So from now on I'm going to call my effort to hit 50 states The Tour of the Original MAJ.  This will be a perpetual sign of respect and appreciation for my roots.

Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 1: Philly 2007
Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 2: Disney 2010
Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 3: Rock & Roll New Orleans 2011
Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 4: Savannah 2011
Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 5: Huntsville 2012

This year Tour of the Original MAJ returns to the site of its inception in the tri-state area with a stop in New York for 2013.

Ti'm to get the tour bus ready!

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.