This past Sunday was the final summer season event, the Nike Marathon in San Francisco. What a day! I went to cheer on my teammates with whom I've been training these past five months, and to help run them in at the last mile. I had to leave at 6:15am on Sunday in order to get up to the city and find a place on the course for optimal cheerleading. I went with my mentor, Ron, and we settled on a large hill around miles 8 and 9 on the course (near the Presidio coming out to the Cliff House) for the beginning of the day. We were dressed for running, had some hydration strapped to our backs, and were prepared to lose our voices.
The first wave of participants were the walkers. They had started at Union Square at 5:30...1 and 1/2 hours before the runners were scheduled to take off! They came ambling up the hill and it didn't get too lively, but the first thing I noticed was that there were so many purple jerseys! This is the signature clothing piece of the TNT runner, and I had forgotten that the Nike Marathon is a joint effort between Team in Training and Nike, so there were naturally going to be thousands of TNT runners/walkers from across the country. Plus, the majority of them were going to be women. So, for the next six hours, my cheers were filled with "Let's go, ladies!" and "Looking strong, girls!" - and it was odd when in slipped the occasional "Way to go, dude!" However, I think the men appreciated the individualized attention amongst the swarm of females.
The attitude during the first 10 miles of the race was considerably excitable and light. The runners were cheery, vocal, and waving - full of energy and not too sweaty either. We could chat a little bit, and here and there I ran alongside my friends, dispersing little bits of advice for the journey ahead: "Save it for mile 20 - everyone else is going to drop like flies at that point - conserve it now - drink a few cups at every aid station! - stick to your walk/run! - grit your teeth and push at the end! - see you at mile 25! - we're rooting for you!" They were feeling good, were unbelievably fresh in the legs, and prepared for anything. Little could I predict that mile 25 would be a while different cheerleading experience.
After warming up on the hill with five or six of my teammates who were competing, I headed down to mile 10 (on the Great Highway) and out to the finish. The finish had to be situated near the half marathon mark (13.1 miles), but the full marathoners went an extra loop back around near SFSU. The half marathoners looped up from the Great Highway into Golden Gate Park, and then back out to the finish, while the marathoners looped through the park, back out, past the finish, up towards Lake Merced via the Great Highway for the second half of their race, and then back out to the finish. I can only imagine the mental strength it took for the full marathoners to pass the finish area on their way out for the second half of their race.
The finish itself was located near the intersection of Fulton Street and the beach, and it took up nearly a mile with all the promotional tents, food tables, finisher memorabilia, and the mainstage where the bands were playing. Mile 10, however, was right near the Cliff House, and for those of you who are familiar with that viewpoint, it is quite breathtaking on a clear, sunny day such as yesterday was. The ocean pans out at the bottom of the hill, lapping at the sandy beach dotted with patrons, and the crest of the city lies just beyond that in the glinting sunlight, beautifully framed by the distant foothills of the surrounding mountains. While I breezed down this hill with a smile on my face, Ron was running our teammates down and travelling back up to catch the next group. Up there, cheering on the team, he said it was quite amusing to hear the constant steam of expletives from out-of-state participants while rounding the corner and coming face-to-face with the startlingly gorgeous scene before them. Ron heard the phrase "Holy S***!" more times than he can count...and he helped all of them record the Kodak moment more times than he cares to mention.
I moved in towards mile 25, which was as simple as jogging down from Mile 10 to the start of the park leg, and crossing the street to where the Mile 25 marker stood. How awful, I thought, to have to run out on your Mile 14, and have the finishers coming in from the other direction barely 100 feet across from you...you literally see how far you have yet to go!
By the time I got down to that area, it was around noon, and the first runners were coming in...the very strong runners. But as the next two hours passed, form and function degenerated in most participants, and by 1:30, some of the finishers were looking really haggard. These were the runners who burned everything up in the first half of the race, believing that the first 10 miles would be an indication of how their last 10 would go. They forget that the last 2.2 are the actual definition of the marathon.
It was very tough to try to cheer the runners on during this stage of their race. Many were silent, painful grimaces etched on their faces, others were in tears, and some were absurdly weaving back and forth. There were those who had to walk, there were some who pushed through while cursing up a storm, and still some who deliriously thanked you for running alongside them during those last few hundred feet. I hope that my cheers of "3 stoplights left!!" helped them then; I remember wanting only to see the actual finish line when I ran in Portland - for some reason, having a view of the finish will get you through the mental storm when you're on that last leg of the race. Most of the spectators were silent; I assume because when faced with those expressions of true grit and painful determination, you're just not quite sure what to say. However, I remembered that the simplest act of just clapping, merely showing your support, was truly appreciated during that last push for the finish.
As I helped run in some of the team members, I was struck by their strength and mental willpower. My brain was mostly mush when I was running into the Portland finish, that little voice in my head a booming loudspeaker "Finish. Finish. Push. Breathe." I could see them struggling against that same voice, their bodies ready to collapse from the repetitive pain of putting one foot in front of the other. And somehow, beyond all belief, they pushed. At the very end, the most inspiring of actions was that final give-all from a runner who was torn up, chewed up, and spit out by the grueling, unforgiving course. The statement was unspoken, but resonated deep within all and anyone who was there to watch it happen. It's a raw, pure glimpse of that which we try to define as the human spirit.
The runners streamed in until nearly 2pm, and the last walkers were escorted from behind by a police cavalcade. After the ceremonies and hugs and tears and bananas, we all headed out to get some more food, to shower, and prepare for the victory party. It was only when I finally sat back down in the car (after 6 hours and nearly 12 miles on foot), did I realize that I had forgotten to apply sunblock that morning. Thus, the nickname "Sunburn Sarah" was born.
For the rest of the evening, through the spectacular 10,000-person buffet dinner celebration at the Moscone Center, during the thumping DJ-inspired dance fest, and all the way to the after party at Jillian's at the Metreon, I was bowled over by looks of shock at my new skin tone: "Sarah, you are so RED!"
It was so unbelievable, people kept wanting to poke me and test out exactly how burned I was. (As if the grimace of pain on my face would give them a litmus test for the severity.) I had enough sense to apply ice packs and take some ibuprofen before we ate dinner, and while hydrating for the rest of the evening, I managed to temper the burn until I could get ahold of some aloe vera. The beautiful irony is that I work for a Cancer Center and know better than to stay in the sun with nothing less than SPF 30 for a maximum of an hour....
Hanging out with the team after the race, giggling at their limited range of movement, and commiserating with them on the intensity and immensity of completing the day's physical test, I smiled to myself as I thought about all the hard work we had completed for the past five months, all the early morning runs we conquered, and the triumph we shared in joining the "less than 1% of the population who have completed a marathon." As I looked around at the crowd, I couldn't believe that we could now call ourselves marathoners.
I was speaking with my running buddy, Cheytna, about the process of doing a marathon, of trying to define it for those who have yet to complete one:
She said that, at the beginning, you don't really have a reason for signing up for a marathon. Something just makes you do it, and you don't realize what an incredible journey you're about to have. The very idea is impossible to understand, or even focus on, and even while training, you're not conscious of how the race itself will change you. And then, one day, you wake up and you realize 'I've completed a marathon.' People will ask you to explain it, how it feels to have done it, but it's like trying to explain becoming a human being. The only thing you understand is what it feels like to have done it, to be changed in that manner.
Imagine being an astronaut, and preparing for space travel. You train and train hard, simulating what is going to happen, preparing for the unexpected and dangerous, dressing up as if, and planning out how to accomplish the journey. But the minute you step into that shuttle, strap in, and lift off, you embark on something so extraordinarily unimaginable to most people, you realize, right then, that no one has invented a way or words to express the experience. The only truth you know, the only proof that you have, is the feeling of the experience. Try as you might, your words fail you and you find yourself staring at someone who is staring back at you, the kinetic memory of an impossible feat struggling to express itself in a language you learn only by surviving a physical and mental monsoon. The feeling is there, but the appropriate words do not exist.
Then you find yourself out on the racecourse, cheering your teammates. You understand for the first time what 'unlimited potential' looks like, and your voice rises in your throat when you see someone complete a spectacular physical feat, understanding what they are experiencing, your own spirit igniting at the recognition of its mirror image in a stranger, and your humanity verified in the accomplishments of those who push themselves beyond the boundaries of what we know is possible. You become human, you become connected to all other humans, when you let out that shout in support of their spirit.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Monday, October 8, 2007
Blood, Sweat, and Tears
The following posting will be very long. I'm warning you now, so that those of you who were just hoping for the highlights don't get frustrated with the details. Scroll down towards the end and you can brief yourself, if you have no time.
As I sit here and try my best to recall and relay the exhilaration and immensity of the marathon on Sunday, I'm a little at a loss for what to say. I'll try my best to take you with me on the incredible experience of the past 36 hours, but it's a little daunting.
I guess I'll start at the beginning of the end. As most of you have been following the blog since my training began, you know where I'm coming from and what this past weekend held in store for me. And the first answer to your question is "Yes. It was everything I expected and more than I could have imagined."
I had been nervous about the race a little bit, but not to the point of anxiety. We took off from San Jose on Saturday morning, a handful of Bay Area runners from the TNT team. We were a little groggy, a little snuffly, but in generally good spirits. We boarded the plane and taxied forever; the flight was scheduled to leave around 8:30, but we didn't take off until at least half past nine. When we finally landed in Portland, we stretched out; most of us had woken up by then, and we proceeded to the hotel with our luggage on a big old carrier bus. Arriving around 1pm, we checked-in and went out in search of food. This was my first look at Portland, and it was a charming city, I must admit. This time of year hints at fall foliage, and the weather is perfect "running weather" - you can wear a sweater if you're not running, but you won't cool off if you run in a light tee and shorts; there's a little breeze every now and then that bushes past, and the air is dry with the slightest hint of moisture.
We came across the registration expo at the nearby Hilton Hotel and stopped in to pick up our race packets, including our "bib" (the number you wear on your shirt) and our chips (a tiny device worn on the shoe that contains a sensor; you cross checkpoints along the race and your time is recorded via your chip). There were also a lot of companies with promotional flyers and handouts; I liked the honey sticks the best. We picked up our finisher's shirt (the air was rife with irony) and then headed over to get some lunch (a quesadilla with some rice). I went back at 3pm to hear Jeff Galloway speak, and managed to have him sign my race bib. It was wonderful to meet him in person; I read through his book "Marathon!" and had trained with the 'run-walk' program he outlines. Hearing him remind the audience about pacing, hydration, and other little details for race day calmed me immensely.
That evening, we went down to the ballroom for a TNT carb load. There were teams from Washington, Alaska, Oregon, New Mexico, and California. The room was filled with teammates who had traveled far and near, has raised over $95,000 collectively, and ranged from veteran runners to newbies. A lady named Terri shared her story about her daughter, Emily, who was diagnosed with myeloma at a very young age; they lost her after only six years of her life, and after sharing some tearful memories, they thanked everyone in the room for their efforts. Terri said to us, "You'll never know how much your fundraising touches other people's lives." It was a very poignant moment, and I was overwhelmed by the emotional response from the crowd.
After dinner, our mentors also passed along a few pages of well-wishes from all our honorees; they were generous in their thanks and well wishes, and it made me remember why I was truly running this marathon.
Most coaches will tout the benefits of mental preparation for an event such as a marathon, and I can vouch in favor of this training detail. I was lucky to have participated in running events previously and even more lucky that I was running for a cause other than myself; I felt prepared for what Sunday morning would bring in terms of pre-race preparations. When I got to the starting line on Sunday morning, I felt very Zen-like: I knew to use the port-o-johns long before the lines formed, to keep still and not waste energy before crossing the start line, and to stretch out a little and stay calm. I had a peanut butter-banana-honey-Wonder Bread sandwich about 45 minutes before we started running, and enough water to get me going for the first few miles. I thought about all the honorees and the folks I was running for, and that took a lot of stress out of the equation. Knowing how the first hour before the race would happen helped me concentrate on what would happen during the race. I had imagined how the race would go, and because of that I was able to hold back for the first 10 miles of the race, managed to climb the hill at 16, and had enough energy left over to complete the 6.2 miles down to the finish....
I slept rather well the night before, considering the advice my father gave me. In fact, I passed out about 9:30pm and didn't wake up until 5:15 the next morning. I did have a weird dream about wanting to get single bills in exchange for my $10 bill; no one would give me the change I wanted. It wasn't really an anxiety dream per se, but unsettling nonetheless.
We went down to the starting line around 6am, and I had decked myself out in the 10-gallon plastic garbage bag my father recommended I bring. Unfortunately, 10 gallons only covers the top half of your body. The other runners were sporting large 45-gallon bags that hung down to at least their knees, and had ample room for movement. I looked like tightly packed sushi in comparison; I only poked a hole for my head, preferring to keep my arms close to my body for warmth inside the sack. Waddling around for the half hour before the race with my red bandanna and saran-wrap-esque cover up provided some much needed pre-race entertainment for my peers. (It was a relief to let my arms out towards the race start, and I didn't shed the bag until after mile 1, at which time I was sufficiently warm.)
Though we were close to the race start line, the gun went off at 7 and I didn't actually cross the start line until around 7:20. We were situated near the 6-hour pace group, and I struggled to hold myself back at the beginning, knowing that if I wanted to finish in under 5:30:00, I needed to do some serious catch-up. Oddly enough, despite all the conservative running I managed in the first 10 miles, I caught up to the 5:30-pace group after mile 4. It was a joyous moment, let me tell you.
Now, I'll just give you the mile-by-mile highlights, because let's face it, writing about running to that extent is rather inane at this point. I was wearing my purple TNT singlet, my comfy somewhat seamless running capris, my new Mizunos, and a fuel belt stuffed with shot blocks, GU, an Alka-Seltzer tablet (sodium replenishment) and a bit of water...
HIGHLIGHTS:
Mile 1: The drum line - some hot guys with drums and a rad beat...what a thrill! They showed up again at Mile 7, I could have run easy with them the whole way...
Mile 2: Shedding the plastic 10-gallon bag!
Mile 3: First (of many) water station and some Shot Blocks
Mile 4: Gradual downhill! I'm pretty sure this helped me catch up to the 5:30 group. By this point, the sweat starts to accumulate.
Mile 5: Running strong, heading further out of the city.
Mile 6: Realizing there are 20 more miles to go, and reminding myself not to push it, although I'm ready to just let fly on some of these intervals. Had some more Shot Blocks
Mile 7: for Joan.
Mile 8: for Kristi.
Mile 9: for Mary.
Mile 10: for Laurette.
Mile 11: for Jim.
Mile 12: for Laurette H. Shot Block time again.
Mile 13: for Donna.
Mile 14: for the Honorees.
Mile 15: Realizing that a half marathon might just be my event. Had some GU with caffeine in anticipation of the bridge hill - this got my legs kicking!
Mile 16: Mentally battling the hill to the St. John's Bridge, keeping up an awesome pace, controlled breath, and passing people while climbing it
Mile 17: Conquering the hill. I got a little teary on the bridge (the view was GORGEOUS) but realized I couldn't run and cry at the same time, so I held back. Besides, who cries in the middle of the marathon!?
Mile 18: Realizing we ran 18 miles out of the city into the suburbs. People are cheering from their porches and one dude is playing the theme song from "Chariots of Fire" on his boom box as we round the corner. Shot Blocks to ward off the tingly sensation in my body that signals I'm running low on fuel.
Mile 19: Alka-Seltzer break time. I mix a tablet in with the remainder of my water and I swear my body is refreshed in under 2 minutes. Or perhaps that's the power of placebo drug use. Sucking out the remaining salt water from my thermos, I cut my upper lip on the cap and taste a little bit of blood.
Mile 20: PAIN. Quads start to get sore, feet are hurting after 20 miles of pavement; the arms are moving, but the legs are having a hard time keeping up.
Mile 21: The Longest Mile Ever. Have some GU with double caffeine in anticipation of the last four miles.
Mile 22: The Longest Mile Ever.
Mile 23: The "course access" cyclist was rumored to be hit by a train and there were ambulances everywhere before the Steel Bridge. They redirected us up to the sidewalk. I think they saved the cyclist. At least, there was no one under the train.
Mile 24: Last taste of Shot Blocks, the tummy's feeling a little funny. I only have 2.2 more miles to go, and despite wanting to push through them, I still have to maintain the walk-run pacing. The transition from running to walking to running is rather uncomfortable. At this point, my clothes are drenched in sweat and my brain is part mush, and my body is on auto-pilot.
Mile 25: Back in the city, and it starts to sprinkle. My brain is complete mush. I want to stop running. My body is so exhausted, all I can think is "ice bath, ice bath, ice bath". People are cheering as we run past, and one cute guy on the corner calls out my name - I was completely discombobulated, I think I glared at him.
Mile 26: Rounding the corner of 3rd and Salmon, I put everything I've got into the last 0.2 mileage to the finish. I feel like puking, but I cross the finish running hard, and in good form. I even passed a few runners. A much needed space blanket is handed to me, along with my medal, a rose, and a tree sapling. I get weepy again after realizing I've just finished a marathon...but I don't have the energy to have a good cry! Someone tries to hand me a flyer for the Cinco de Mayo marathon for next year, but I can't even register why he's doing this. Of all the times to get you to sign up for another marathon...
And then I hobbled back to my hotel room, took that sought-after ice bath, took an hour-long nap, woke up to eat the most delicious hamburger I've ever had in my life (though I've been told anything you eat right after the marathon is the most delicious food you'll ever have), hobbled back to the hotel, slept for another hour, hobbled to the elevator and went down for dinner, had the most delicious garlic mashed potatoes, and then had a quick bout of dance fever. I danced (yes, it was quite a feat, I have video proof) for about two minutes near our dinner table to the "YMCA" and then realized that the only dance move I couldn't physically manage was the running man. How terribly ironic.
I had to leave the victory dinner early in order to catch my flight back home, and had a seizure when I found out they booked the wrong departure date and I was put on standby until the literal last minute before take-off. I mean, I had just completed a marathon: I couldn't handle any more obstacles that day. Luckily, Michael Partridge didn't show up for his booking, so I got seated in 10E and conked out on the 2-hour flight home. Mom picked me up from the airport, and Bandit was in the car, wagging his tail against my head for the whole ride home. I was truly, honestly exhausted, and I had just enough time to sleep that night before having to hobble into work at 6:30am for a live video conference kickoff to New Orleans from the Cancer Center. The soreness, though!! Rest and recuperation took on a whole new meaning for me on Monday. I managed to stand around in heels (granted, I couldn't feel my feet) for an hour or two during the video feed, but that took some effort. After the event however, I was sent home (thank God!) with orders to rest and rehydrate. All in all, a whirlwind of activity and barely any downtime to percolate what had just commenced only 12 hours previous.
And so there you have it. The whole kit and caboodle. Thanks for reading, those of you who made it to this point! And a huge, immense thank-you to everyone who contributed to this experience. I surpassed my fundraising goal, and thanks to you, have successfully completed my first (of perhaps many) marathons. A tremendous accomplishment, and I've been lucky enough to share it with all of you too!!
As for what's next: I have to work out the soreness from Sunday (once I can manage stairs again, I'll be a happy gal) and we have some wrap-up events for the team over the next few weeks. Some of the team members are competing in the Nike marathon in San Francisco in two weeks, so we'll be out there to cheer them on and run them in to the finish line. I'm excited for them, and even more happy to know that I'll be able to provide them with the well-needed encouragement along the last few miles. After that, I may sign up for a half-marathon...we'll see.
Until then, happy running, Marathon Fans.
As I sit here and try my best to recall and relay the exhilaration and immensity of the marathon on Sunday, I'm a little at a loss for what to say. I'll try my best to take you with me on the incredible experience of the past 36 hours, but it's a little daunting.
I guess I'll start at the beginning of the end. As most of you have been following the blog since my training began, you know where I'm coming from and what this past weekend held in store for me. And the first answer to your question is "Yes. It was everything I expected and more than I could have imagined."
I had been nervous about the race a little bit, but not to the point of anxiety. We took off from San Jose on Saturday morning, a handful of Bay Area runners from the TNT team. We were a little groggy, a little snuffly, but in generally good spirits. We boarded the plane and taxied forever; the flight was scheduled to leave around 8:30, but we didn't take off until at least half past nine. When we finally landed in Portland, we stretched out; most of us had woken up by then, and we proceeded to the hotel with our luggage on a big old carrier bus. Arriving around 1pm, we checked-in and went out in search of food. This was my first look at Portland, and it was a charming city, I must admit. This time of year hints at fall foliage, and the weather is perfect "running weather" - you can wear a sweater if you're not running, but you won't cool off if you run in a light tee and shorts; there's a little breeze every now and then that bushes past, and the air is dry with the slightest hint of moisture.
We came across the registration expo at the nearby Hilton Hotel and stopped in to pick up our race packets, including our "bib" (the number you wear on your shirt) and our chips (a tiny device worn on the shoe that contains a sensor; you cross checkpoints along the race and your time is recorded via your chip). There were also a lot of companies with promotional flyers and handouts; I liked the honey sticks the best. We picked up our finisher's shirt (the air was rife with irony) and then headed over to get some lunch (a quesadilla with some rice). I went back at 3pm to hear Jeff Galloway speak, and managed to have him sign my race bib. It was wonderful to meet him in person; I read through his book "Marathon!" and had trained with the 'run-walk' program he outlines. Hearing him remind the audience about pacing, hydration, and other little details for race day calmed me immensely.
That evening, we went down to the ballroom for a TNT carb load. There were teams from Washington, Alaska, Oregon, New Mexico, and California. The room was filled with teammates who had traveled far and near, has raised over $95,000 collectively, and ranged from veteran runners to newbies. A lady named Terri shared her story about her daughter, Emily, who was diagnosed with myeloma at a very young age; they lost her after only six years of her life, and after sharing some tearful memories, they thanked everyone in the room for their efforts. Terri said to us, "You'll never know how much your fundraising touches other people's lives." It was a very poignant moment, and I was overwhelmed by the emotional response from the crowd.
After dinner, our mentors also passed along a few pages of well-wishes from all our honorees; they were generous in their thanks and well wishes, and it made me remember why I was truly running this marathon.
Most coaches will tout the benefits of mental preparation for an event such as a marathon, and I can vouch in favor of this training detail. I was lucky to have participated in running events previously and even more lucky that I was running for a cause other than myself; I felt prepared for what Sunday morning would bring in terms of pre-race preparations. When I got to the starting line on Sunday morning, I felt very Zen-like: I knew to use the port-o-johns long before the lines formed, to keep still and not waste energy before crossing the start line, and to stretch out a little and stay calm. I had a peanut butter-banana-honey-Wonder Bread sandwich about 45 minutes before we started running, and enough water to get me going for the first few miles. I thought about all the honorees and the folks I was running for, and that took a lot of stress out of the equation. Knowing how the first hour before the race would happen helped me concentrate on what would happen during the race. I had imagined how the race would go, and because of that I was able to hold back for the first 10 miles of the race, managed to climb the hill at 16, and had enough energy left over to complete the 6.2 miles down to the finish....
I slept rather well the night before, considering the advice my father gave me. In fact, I passed out about 9:30pm and didn't wake up until 5:15 the next morning. I did have a weird dream about wanting to get single bills in exchange for my $10 bill; no one would give me the change I wanted. It wasn't really an anxiety dream per se, but unsettling nonetheless.
We went down to the starting line around 6am, and I had decked myself out in the 10-gallon plastic garbage bag my father recommended I bring. Unfortunately, 10 gallons only covers the top half of your body. The other runners were sporting large 45-gallon bags that hung down to at least their knees, and had ample room for movement. I looked like tightly packed sushi in comparison; I only poked a hole for my head, preferring to keep my arms close to my body for warmth inside the sack. Waddling around for the half hour before the race with my red bandanna and saran-wrap-esque cover up provided some much needed pre-race entertainment for my peers. (It was a relief to let my arms out towards the race start, and I didn't shed the bag until after mile 1, at which time I was sufficiently warm.)
Though we were close to the race start line, the gun went off at 7 and I didn't actually cross the start line until around 7:20. We were situated near the 6-hour pace group, and I struggled to hold myself back at the beginning, knowing that if I wanted to finish in under 5:30:00, I needed to do some serious catch-up. Oddly enough, despite all the conservative running I managed in the first 10 miles, I caught up to the 5:30-pace group after mile 4. It was a joyous moment, let me tell you.
Now, I'll just give you the mile-by-mile highlights, because let's face it, writing about running to that extent is rather inane at this point. I was wearing my purple TNT singlet, my comfy somewhat seamless running capris, my new Mizunos, and a fuel belt stuffed with shot blocks, GU, an Alka-Seltzer tablet (sodium replenishment) and a bit of water...
HIGHLIGHTS:
Mile 1: The drum line - some hot guys with drums and a rad beat...what a thrill! They showed up again at Mile 7, I could have run easy with them the whole way...
Mile 2: Shedding the plastic 10-gallon bag!
Mile 3: First (of many) water station and some Shot Blocks
Mile 4: Gradual downhill! I'm pretty sure this helped me catch up to the 5:30 group. By this point, the sweat starts to accumulate.
Mile 5: Running strong, heading further out of the city.
Mile 6: Realizing there are 20 more miles to go, and reminding myself not to push it, although I'm ready to just let fly on some of these intervals. Had some more Shot Blocks
Mile 7: for Joan.
Mile 8: for Kristi.
Mile 9: for Mary.
Mile 10: for Laurette.
Mile 11: for Jim.
Mile 12: for Laurette H. Shot Block time again.
Mile 13: for Donna.
Mile 14: for the Honorees.
Mile 15: Realizing that a half marathon might just be my event. Had some GU with caffeine in anticipation of the bridge hill - this got my legs kicking!
Mile 16: Mentally battling the hill to the St. John's Bridge, keeping up an awesome pace, controlled breath, and passing people while climbing it
Mile 17: Conquering the hill. I got a little teary on the bridge (the view was GORGEOUS) but realized I couldn't run and cry at the same time, so I held back. Besides, who cries in the middle of the marathon!?
Mile 18: Realizing we ran 18 miles out of the city into the suburbs. People are cheering from their porches and one dude is playing the theme song from "Chariots of Fire" on his boom box as we round the corner. Shot Blocks to ward off the tingly sensation in my body that signals I'm running low on fuel.
Mile 19: Alka-Seltzer break time. I mix a tablet in with the remainder of my water and I swear my body is refreshed in under 2 minutes. Or perhaps that's the power of placebo drug use. Sucking out the remaining salt water from my thermos, I cut my upper lip on the cap and taste a little bit of blood.
Mile 20: PAIN. Quads start to get sore, feet are hurting after 20 miles of pavement; the arms are moving, but the legs are having a hard time keeping up.
Mile 21: The Longest Mile Ever. Have some GU with double caffeine in anticipation of the last four miles.
Mile 22: The Longest Mile Ever.
Mile 23: The "course access" cyclist was rumored to be hit by a train and there were ambulances everywhere before the Steel Bridge. They redirected us up to the sidewalk. I think they saved the cyclist. At least, there was no one under the train.
Mile 24: Last taste of Shot Blocks, the tummy's feeling a little funny. I only have 2.2 more miles to go, and despite wanting to push through them, I still have to maintain the walk-run pacing. The transition from running to walking to running is rather uncomfortable. At this point, my clothes are drenched in sweat and my brain is part mush, and my body is on auto-pilot.
Mile 25: Back in the city, and it starts to sprinkle. My brain is complete mush. I want to stop running. My body is so exhausted, all I can think is "ice bath, ice bath, ice bath". People are cheering as we run past, and one cute guy on the corner calls out my name - I was completely discombobulated, I think I glared at him.
Mile 26: Rounding the corner of 3rd and Salmon, I put everything I've got into the last 0.2 mileage to the finish. I feel like puking, but I cross the finish running hard, and in good form. I even passed a few runners. A much needed space blanket is handed to me, along with my medal, a rose, and a tree sapling. I get weepy again after realizing I've just finished a marathon...but I don't have the energy to have a good cry! Someone tries to hand me a flyer for the Cinco de Mayo marathon for next year, but I can't even register why he's doing this. Of all the times to get you to sign up for another marathon...
And then I hobbled back to my hotel room, took that sought-after ice bath, took an hour-long nap, woke up to eat the most delicious hamburger I've ever had in my life (though I've been told anything you eat right after the marathon is the most delicious food you'll ever have), hobbled back to the hotel, slept for another hour, hobbled to the elevator and went down for dinner, had the most delicious garlic mashed potatoes, and then had a quick bout of dance fever. I danced (yes, it was quite a feat, I have video proof) for about two minutes near our dinner table to the "YMCA" and then realized that the only dance move I couldn't physically manage was the running man. How terribly ironic.
I had to leave the victory dinner early in order to catch my flight back home, and had a seizure when I found out they booked the wrong departure date and I was put on standby until the literal last minute before take-off. I mean, I had just completed a marathon: I couldn't handle any more obstacles that day. Luckily, Michael Partridge didn't show up for his booking, so I got seated in 10E and conked out on the 2-hour flight home. Mom picked me up from the airport, and Bandit was in the car, wagging his tail against my head for the whole ride home. I was truly, honestly exhausted, and I had just enough time to sleep that night before having to hobble into work at 6:30am for a live video conference kickoff to New Orleans from the Cancer Center. The soreness, though!! Rest and recuperation took on a whole new meaning for me on Monday. I managed to stand around in heels (granted, I couldn't feel my feet) for an hour or two during the video feed, but that took some effort. After the event however, I was sent home (thank God!) with orders to rest and rehydrate. All in all, a whirlwind of activity and barely any downtime to percolate what had just commenced only 12 hours previous.
And so there you have it. The whole kit and caboodle. Thanks for reading, those of you who made it to this point! And a huge, immense thank-you to everyone who contributed to this experience. I surpassed my fundraising goal, and thanks to you, have successfully completed my first (of perhaps many) marathons. A tremendous accomplishment, and I've been lucky enough to share it with all of you too!!
As for what's next: I have to work out the soreness from Sunday (once I can manage stairs again, I'll be a happy gal) and we have some wrap-up events for the team over the next few weeks. Some of the team members are competing in the Nike marathon in San Francisco in two weeks, so we'll be out there to cheer them on and run them in to the finish line. I'm excited for them, and even more happy to know that I'll be able to provide them with the well-needed encouragement along the last few miles. After that, I may sign up for a half-marathon...we'll see.
Until then, happy running, Marathon Fans.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Taper!
Well Marathon Fans, I broke my word. Having a rough week at work, I settled down for a margarita last Thursday to temper the immense pressures that I've assumed in the past month. And it was great...except for the part when my mother reamed me the next day for "disheartening" her. Apparently, my blurb about how I had stopped drinking now falls under the category of lying. (Whatever happened to "changing your mind"...?)
In any case, my apologies. Weak character that I am, I couldn't resist having a small happy hour. I understand if I've compromised your trust in me, and if you call me a sneaky little liar behind my back, that's fair. However, I had the best intentions in mind, but work's been a little over the top recently. (Insert shoulder shrug here.)
The taper week has officially begun. In running lingo, "taper" is a period of rest time just before you go out to run some obscene mileage. The goal is to do no more than you have already trained for: e.g. we've completed our long 20-mile run, so now we are letting our muscles recuperate and until race day, we'll be working out at smaller distances, though the same intensity. The beautiful fact of tapering is that the distances that once seemed insurmountable are now like a favorite little dessert. What's that coach? We're having chocolate cake instead of hummus and carrots for track practice?
Okay, so the metaphor's a stretch, but you get the idea...it's a delicious feeling.
I'm also excited that I will be able to get out and run more with the team. The show has ended (tear) and we had a wonderful cast party this weekend after striking the set and cleaning the theatre. Saddened that it is over, but grateful for the freed weekends. Last week was the first time I had seen the team in over a month (in a workout setting), and both I and my teammates were surprised to see each other. Everyone was running strong, and I was pleased that I could keep up with them. I have become a bit nervous these past few weeks, mainly because I had no progress gauge. I have come to appreciate running on my own, but without a teammate or coach monitoring your work, it's hard to know if you're making strides. It was a relief to find that I have kept up on my own.
The marathon is this upcoming weekend! Nervous thoughts are still fluttering around in my head, but I've managed to wrangle them in, promising myself that I will finish strong and to not worry about the timing. According to my father (seasoned marathoner that he is), I can expect to be nervous the night before, and not get a wink of sleep; I should stay in the hotel room all day Saturday and rest my legs, I should wear a plastic garbage bag over my running clothes during the first mile or so to warm up, and I should look for the "pace guy" for 5:30:00 at the start line. According to my mother (seasoned marathon fan that she is), my father's advice is completely subjective.
All that aside, I'll be packing some peanut butter and shot blocks in my suitcase (airport regulations and all that jazz) for pre-marathon breakfasting, and I have yet to settle into the thought that I've never packed for a trip that specifically involved exercising. I mean, the basis of my wardrobe will be items I can run in, comfortably. Forget packing the high heels and perfume, I'll be debating which sock length will work best for five hours of pavement running, and how much body glide I'll need to slap on Sunday morning. There's something to be said for doing something you've never done before.
The next blog will perhaps be the last, or close to it, so stay posted for results, and thanks again for supporting me thus far!
In any case, my apologies. Weak character that I am, I couldn't resist having a small happy hour. I understand if I've compromised your trust in me, and if you call me a sneaky little liar behind my back, that's fair. However, I had the best intentions in mind, but work's been a little over the top recently. (Insert shoulder shrug here.)
The taper week has officially begun. In running lingo, "taper" is a period of rest time just before you go out to run some obscene mileage. The goal is to do no more than you have already trained for: e.g. we've completed our long 20-mile run, so now we are letting our muscles recuperate and until race day, we'll be working out at smaller distances, though the same intensity. The beautiful fact of tapering is that the distances that once seemed insurmountable are now like a favorite little dessert. What's that coach? We're having chocolate cake instead of hummus and carrots for track practice?
Okay, so the metaphor's a stretch, but you get the idea...it's a delicious feeling.
I'm also excited that I will be able to get out and run more with the team. The show has ended (tear) and we had a wonderful cast party this weekend after striking the set and cleaning the theatre. Saddened that it is over, but grateful for the freed weekends. Last week was the first time I had seen the team in over a month (in a workout setting), and both I and my teammates were surprised to see each other. Everyone was running strong, and I was pleased that I could keep up with them. I have become a bit nervous these past few weeks, mainly because I had no progress gauge. I have come to appreciate running on my own, but without a teammate or coach monitoring your work, it's hard to know if you're making strides. It was a relief to find that I have kept up on my own.
The marathon is this upcoming weekend! Nervous thoughts are still fluttering around in my head, but I've managed to wrangle them in, promising myself that I will finish strong and to not worry about the timing. According to my father (seasoned marathoner that he is), I can expect to be nervous the night before, and not get a wink of sleep; I should stay in the hotel room all day Saturday and rest my legs, I should wear a plastic garbage bag over my running clothes during the first mile or so to warm up, and I should look for the "pace guy" for 5:30:00 at the start line. According to my mother (seasoned marathon fan that she is), my father's advice is completely subjective.
All that aside, I'll be packing some peanut butter and shot blocks in my suitcase (airport regulations and all that jazz) for pre-marathon breakfasting, and I have yet to settle into the thought that I've never packed for a trip that specifically involved exercising. I mean, the basis of my wardrobe will be items I can run in, comfortably. Forget packing the high heels and perfume, I'll be debating which sock length will work best for five hours of pavement running, and how much body glide I'll need to slap on Sunday morning. There's something to be said for doing something you've never done before.
The next blog will perhaps be the last, or close to it, so stay posted for results, and thanks again for supporting me thus far!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
The Infamous Mile 19
Well, Marathon Fans, it's getting down to the grindstone. The countdown has started: T minus 18 days until the big event! Since realizing that the marathon is less than three weeks away, I've given up drinking, have been going to bed at 10pm, and have stopped eating sugar altogether. Okay, so maybe that last one is a stretch, but the drinking has ceased (believe it or not). I've also calmed down a bit since the show has opened. The weekday rehearsals have stopped, so I now get to actually see my family every once in a while. Proof that I was spending too much time away from home: my little sister didn't recognize my picture in the Crier last week. Luckily, my mom did, so she pointed out the obvious similarities to my doubtful sibling.
If you haven't caught a show yet, check out www.thepear.org for ticket information for Three Sisters, the production I will be in until September's end. I can't promise you that the show will be light, funny, and comedic. In fact, I would highly recommend you have a few drinks before you come to sober up. My parents, who came to see it last Friday, suddenly realized why I've come home this month in such a foul mood. Crying every night on stage while repeatedly berating your job, your love life, and your future will take quite a toll on a young lady such as myself.
The running has been going very well. Hill repeats have become the modus operandi as of late. They stink, there's no way else to describe it, but they get a little easier every time. (Hill repeats, for the novice runner, consists of repeatedly running up a stretch of steep hill, hamstrings straining, calves afire, then resting at the top while your burning lungs are doused with cool oxygen, and then walking down muttering obscenities to yourself about having to repeat that experience 8 more times.) This morning wasn't too bad: I went up around the neighborhood, where there are some long hilly climbs. It was amazing though, to see how the seasons change through a runner's workouts. This morning, for example, was the first time I've seen my breath condense on the exhale. Plus, my headband, riddled with sweat after two hills, froze my forehead on the jog home. Who needs fall foliage? I know Autumn has arrived.
The only running hurdle (if you will) has been my recent separation from the team. Granted, I've been keeping up with my workouts, but I have not seen my teammates in quite some time. It was quite a shock, then, that more than a handful of them showed up at my 25th birthday party this past weekend. It was odd to see them in regular clothes - I almost didn't recognize everybody. It was also a shock to see them at night. We usually blink at each other on our 6am Saturday runs. So jarring was the experience, I asked one of my running buddies (who looked so lovely in her party clothes) for her name and tried to re-introduce myself! You know you've been away from the track too long when.... However, I was pleased as punch that they showed up and we had a great time just shooting some pool and chilling out on a Friday night.
As for the mileage, I was worried about the 20 mile run two weeks ago, but it turned out to be one of the best tests I've had during my training. The morning of, I got up at 6am, and (having slept in my running clothes) threw my shoes in the car to go meet my carpool at Lucky's. Well, 15 minutes later, I suspected I had missed the bus. So, I thought to myself: "Sarah, you have to run today, you can't finagle it at any other time. And you're going to have to do this by yourself. And you haven't brought your iPod." I whimpered a little bit after thinking this. Then, I bought some water, drove around the neighborhood and hid it in various shrubbery, and odometered the route I would run. Starting from the local library, I ran through three towns (Los Altos, Mountain View, Sunnyvale), had some water along the way, looped back to the store in Los Altos, got some more water, and then huffed and puffed back to the library for the last five miles.
Let me tell you, that mile 19 mark is a bitch. There's no polite way to describe it. It is truly a mind-cramping physical browbeating. Your whole body and your whole brain are pounding on you to stop stop stop. And I found myself singing aloud in order to keep going, and when that didn't work, I just started yelling at myself: "Just finish it! Don't quit! Argh! My f***** legs!" (This outburst elicited quite a few glares from the Saturday-morning strolling public.) But, my legs were seriously cramped. I mean, there is nothing like a 'mile 19' to make you a believer in the power of day-before hydration. When I got to the car, it was all I could do not to keel over and cry from sheer joy at the wonder of automatic vehicles. After stretching a little bit, I realized I needed an ice bath, and soon, so I headed home to relax.
The only thing that stinks about finishing the 20 mile run without your teammates is that there is no one to cheer you on and commiserate with you afterwards. That, and I missed out on the ritual Hobee's breakfast gorging. Returning home, I was greeted by Mom, who cannot seem to grasp the importance of looking at least a tiny bit impressed when someone says "I just finished a 20 mile run on paved road, on my own with no music in 4:45." Luckily, Dad was running that far too that day, so when he got home, he said "Great!" and understood why I then needed to take a 2 hour nap.
All in all, I'm getting excited for the event, and since we're only running 10 miles this weekend, I can hardly believe my luck. I mean, I only have to run for 2.5 hours on Saturday, which, crazy as it sounds, is as exciting as finding out you don't have to go into work for a week.
If you haven't caught a show yet, check out www.thepear.org for ticket information for Three Sisters, the production I will be in until September's end. I can't promise you that the show will be light, funny, and comedic. In fact, I would highly recommend you have a few drinks before you come to sober up. My parents, who came to see it last Friday, suddenly realized why I've come home this month in such a foul mood. Crying every night on stage while repeatedly berating your job, your love life, and your future will take quite a toll on a young lady such as myself.
The running has been going very well. Hill repeats have become the modus operandi as of late. They stink, there's no way else to describe it, but they get a little easier every time. (Hill repeats, for the novice runner, consists of repeatedly running up a stretch of steep hill, hamstrings straining, calves afire, then resting at the top while your burning lungs are doused with cool oxygen, and then walking down muttering obscenities to yourself about having to repeat that experience 8 more times.) This morning wasn't too bad: I went up around the neighborhood, where there are some long hilly climbs. It was amazing though, to see how the seasons change through a runner's workouts. This morning, for example, was the first time I've seen my breath condense on the exhale. Plus, my headband, riddled with sweat after two hills, froze my forehead on the jog home. Who needs fall foliage? I know Autumn has arrived.
The only running hurdle (if you will) has been my recent separation from the team. Granted, I've been keeping up with my workouts, but I have not seen my teammates in quite some time. It was quite a shock, then, that more than a handful of them showed up at my 25th birthday party this past weekend. It was odd to see them in regular clothes - I almost didn't recognize everybody. It was also a shock to see them at night. We usually blink at each other on our 6am Saturday runs. So jarring was the experience, I asked one of my running buddies (who looked so lovely in her party clothes) for her name and tried to re-introduce myself! You know you've been away from the track too long when.... However, I was pleased as punch that they showed up and we had a great time just shooting some pool and chilling out on a Friday night.
As for the mileage, I was worried about the 20 mile run two weeks ago, but it turned out to be one of the best tests I've had during my training. The morning of, I got up at 6am, and (having slept in my running clothes) threw my shoes in the car to go meet my carpool at Lucky's. Well, 15 minutes later, I suspected I had missed the bus. So, I thought to myself: "Sarah, you have to run today, you can't finagle it at any other time. And you're going to have to do this by yourself. And you haven't brought your iPod." I whimpered a little bit after thinking this. Then, I bought some water, drove around the neighborhood and hid it in various shrubbery, and odometered the route I would run. Starting from the local library, I ran through three towns (Los Altos, Mountain View, Sunnyvale), had some water along the way, looped back to the store in Los Altos, got some more water, and then huffed and puffed back to the library for the last five miles.
Let me tell you, that mile 19 mark is a bitch. There's no polite way to describe it. It is truly a mind-cramping physical browbeating. Your whole body and your whole brain are pounding on you to stop stop stop. And I found myself singing aloud in order to keep going, and when that didn't work, I just started yelling at myself: "Just finish it! Don't quit! Argh! My f***** legs!" (This outburst elicited quite a few glares from the Saturday-morning strolling public.) But, my legs were seriously cramped. I mean, there is nothing like a 'mile 19' to make you a believer in the power of day-before hydration. When I got to the car, it was all I could do not to keel over and cry from sheer joy at the wonder of automatic vehicles. After stretching a little bit, I realized I needed an ice bath, and soon, so I headed home to relax.
The only thing that stinks about finishing the 20 mile run without your teammates is that there is no one to cheer you on and commiserate with you afterwards. That, and I missed out on the ritual Hobee's breakfast gorging. Returning home, I was greeted by Mom, who cannot seem to grasp the importance of looking at least a tiny bit impressed when someone says "I just finished a 20 mile run on paved road, on my own with no music in 4:45." Luckily, Dad was running that far too that day, so when he got home, he said "Great!" and understood why I then needed to take a 2 hour nap.
All in all, I'm getting excited for the event, and since we're only running 10 miles this weekend, I can hardly believe my luck. I mean, I only have to run for 2.5 hours on Saturday, which, crazy as it sounds, is as exciting as finding out you don't have to go into work for a week.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Energy, energy, all around...
That's the start of a very popular pre-show theatre warm-up. It goes like this:
"Energy, energy, all around...it can bring you up...it can bring you down!"
The cast will warm up and then do this concentration exercise together, usually to enhance connectivity onstage. It builds from a whisper to a scream, but on the last repetition, you don't say "it can bring you down"...you replace that bit with a line from the show. Clever, eh?
This rhyme has been ticking away in my head recently, probably because we open Three Sisters this evening and also because I have a 20 mile run tomorrow that, for some reason, has made me very unnaturally nervous.
Granted, it could be pre-show jitters as well. I've had more than a few thoughts about tripping on my runs this week, having to then play a character with a mysterious limp. Feasibly, it could be that the nervous energy from this show is getting transferred to my running brain.
(For the unenlightened, a "running brain" is a special organ that encases your existing everyday brain during a long run, dousing it in a jelly-like liquid that emits small neuro-waves of unfiltered bliss, resulting in a feeling of capriciousness. Doctors are still mystified by this phenomenon; studies suggests a link between the running brain and month-long vacations.)
At times like this, I have to make a decision about either fighting off the nervousness and applying logic, or trusting my instincts and giving into the nagging feeling that something could go terribly wrong.
In the past, I would have trusted my instincts. And that sounds so completely off-kilter, I know. But, since I've started running long distances, I've learned to stop giving in to my instincts. It sounds weird, but when you're at mile 16, and your legs are getting tight and you're tired and you just want to stop and the left side of your brain is fighting with the goopy running brain serum, screaming at you to just stop running because you're not going to get there any faster, you're running out of water, you didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, and would you please just walk for God's sake...that's the moment when you have to turn off your instincts and just keep going. (I find that music is especially helpful in these moments. Humming usually does the trick. When it escalates to a full-blown rendition of Oklahoma!, you can bet I've checked out completely.) There is something to be said for stopping if you're feeling injured or faint, but that left brain negativity has a tricky way of making you think you're about to die, when really you're just melodramatic like your mom always told you.
Now, when all else fails, I can talk myself out of the nervousness by creating a Worst Things That Could Happen list. For example:
1. I'll go running on Saturday and fall and break both legs.
2. I'll go running on Saturday and get hit by a car.
3. I'll go running on Saturday and be dehydrated and tired, which will make me susceptible to the left brain guerrilla warfare.
Answers:
1. I'll just have to take it a little slower tomorrow and not get caught up in the speed game. If I break my legs, I'll just sit onstage for the whole show and never move, making a quite literal expression of the phrase "We'll never get to Moscow!"
2.Stay on the trail and look both ways before crossing the street. Also, wear handkerchief to keep sweat from blinding me.
3.Drink water today until I've peed my brains out, and then I won't have any brain left to fight me tomorrow.
3b. La la lalalalaaaaa laaaaaaaaaaaa laaa la la...
"Energy, energy, all around...it can bring you up...it can bring you down!"
The cast will warm up and then do this concentration exercise together, usually to enhance connectivity onstage. It builds from a whisper to a scream, but on the last repetition, you don't say "it can bring you down"...you replace that bit with a line from the show. Clever, eh?
This rhyme has been ticking away in my head recently, probably because we open Three Sisters this evening and also because I have a 20 mile run tomorrow that, for some reason, has made me very unnaturally nervous.
Granted, it could be pre-show jitters as well. I've had more than a few thoughts about tripping on my runs this week, having to then play a character with a mysterious limp. Feasibly, it could be that the nervous energy from this show is getting transferred to my running brain.
(For the unenlightened, a "running brain" is a special organ that encases your existing everyday brain during a long run, dousing it in a jelly-like liquid that emits small neuro-waves of unfiltered bliss, resulting in a feeling of capriciousness. Doctors are still mystified by this phenomenon; studies suggests a link between the running brain and month-long vacations.)
At times like this, I have to make a decision about either fighting off the nervousness and applying logic, or trusting my instincts and giving into the nagging feeling that something could go terribly wrong.
In the past, I would have trusted my instincts. And that sounds so completely off-kilter, I know. But, since I've started running long distances, I've learned to stop giving in to my instincts. It sounds weird, but when you're at mile 16, and your legs are getting tight and you're tired and you just want to stop and the left side of your brain is fighting with the goopy running brain serum, screaming at you to just stop running because you're not going to get there any faster, you're running out of water, you didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, and would you please just walk for God's sake...that's the moment when you have to turn off your instincts and just keep going. (I find that music is especially helpful in these moments. Humming usually does the trick. When it escalates to a full-blown rendition of Oklahoma!, you can bet I've checked out completely.) There is something to be said for stopping if you're feeling injured or faint, but that left brain negativity has a tricky way of making you think you're about to die, when really you're just melodramatic like your mom always told you.
Now, when all else fails, I can talk myself out of the nervousness by creating a Worst Things That Could Happen list. For example:
1. I'll go running on Saturday and fall and break both legs.
2. I'll go running on Saturday and get hit by a car.
3. I'll go running on Saturday and be dehydrated and tired, which will make me susceptible to the left brain guerrilla warfare.
Answers:
1. I'll just have to take it a little slower tomorrow and not get caught up in the speed game. If I break my legs, I'll just sit onstage for the whole show and never move, making a quite literal expression of the phrase "We'll never get to Moscow!"
2.Stay on the trail and look both ways before crossing the street. Also, wear handkerchief to keep sweat from blinding me.
3.Drink water today until I've peed my brains out, and then I won't have any brain left to fight me tomorrow.
3b. La la lalalalaaaaa laaaaaaaaaaaa laaa la la...
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I would just like to say...
THANK YOU!
As of today, your donations have helped me complete 78% of my fundraising goal! I am truly and deeply grateful. I just have a few hundred dollars more to raise!
To be honest, I did not think I was going to get this far. I had deep-seated doubts about this whole thing. Starting out, I was sure I would have either quit or gotten injured (knock on wood!) or both by this point. However, I'm totally psyched for the marathon, and cannot believe it when I tell people how far my longest run was on the weekend.
Thank you thank you thank you for supporting me so much.
As of today, your donations have helped me complete 78% of my fundraising goal! I am truly and deeply grateful. I just have a few hundred dollars more to raise!
To be honest, I did not think I was going to get this far. I had deep-seated doubts about this whole thing. Starting out, I was sure I would have either quit or gotten injured (knock on wood!) or both by this point. However, I'm totally psyched for the marathon, and cannot believe it when I tell people how far my longest run was on the weekend.
Thank you thank you thank you for supporting me so much.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Running Low on Ideas...Pun Intended.
Since starting the blog, a nagging little pesky thought has nestled itself in the lower right hand corner of my cerebellum (specific, I know, but that's where all the nasty little pesky ideas live) and since the nature of such thoughts is to whisper in your ear, snicker snidely, and then hide in the depths of your brainwaves, all the while frustrating you to no end, I'm going to blow its cover, so to speak.
I am running out of things to write about running. Granted, I could bore you with more training issues, mileage-crunching numbers, and the woes of the recent right ankle-gone-wrong, but I'm having trouble making it interesting. So, for lack of better drafting, here's a scrolling news clip:
Sarah recently completed a long, grueling 18-mile run in San Francisco on the 25th...It lasted for four hours...Cramping ensued, remedied by extensive stretching and a delicious peanut butter-and-honey sandwich...Her right ankle has flared up due to a recent fall during an indoor climb at the rock gym...Icing and Advil doing their part to ease the stress of running...red ottoman living under her desk at work to ensure elevation during the day...Sunday morning Bikram Yoga class in Palo Alto evoked profuse sweat and intensely balanced coordination under the watchful eye of ex-Marine-turned-yogi Johnny of Yoga Source...Spontaneous foot rub in the middle of class surprised Sarah and now she is unfortunately addicted to the sensation...
That's about all the news from the past two weeks, to be quite honest. Most of my time lately has been hogged by the ongoing rehearsal process for Three Sisters at The Pear Ave Theatre. I love being back in the acting arena; delving into a fictional 19th century household of botched relationship does wonders for quelling the nasty pesky thoughts, but in between running around at work, running around the track, running around on stage, and tripping into bed at night, I've been running low on running blog inspiration.
So, welcome to the end product of the nasty pesky thought exposed. Now that it's completely revealed, hopefully the ensuing posts will be a little more inspired...or not.
In any case, this is all you're going to get this evening, folks. Check back tomorrow for the latest update. Perhaps I'll send in a foreign correspondent....
I am running out of things to write about running. Granted, I could bore you with more training issues, mileage-crunching numbers, and the woes of the recent right ankle-gone-wrong, but I'm having trouble making it interesting. So, for lack of better drafting, here's a scrolling news clip:
Sarah recently completed a long, grueling 18-mile run in San Francisco on the 25th...It lasted for four hours...Cramping ensued, remedied by extensive stretching and a delicious peanut butter-and-honey sandwich...Her right ankle has flared up due to a recent fall during an indoor climb at the rock gym...Icing and Advil doing their part to ease the stress of running...red ottoman living under her desk at work to ensure elevation during the day...Sunday morning Bikram Yoga class in Palo Alto evoked profuse sweat and intensely balanced coordination under the watchful eye of ex-Marine-turned-yogi Johnny of Yoga Source...Spontaneous foot rub in the middle of class surprised Sarah and now she is unfortunately addicted to the sensation...
That's about all the news from the past two weeks, to be quite honest. Most of my time lately has been hogged by the ongoing rehearsal process for Three Sisters at The Pear Ave Theatre. I love being back in the acting arena; delving into a fictional 19th century household of botched relationship does wonders for quelling the nasty pesky thoughts, but in between running around at work, running around the track, running around on stage, and tripping into bed at night, I've been running low on running blog inspiration.
So, welcome to the end product of the nasty pesky thought exposed. Now that it's completely revealed, hopefully the ensuing posts will be a little more inspired...or not.
In any case, this is all you're going to get this evening, folks. Check back tomorrow for the latest update. Perhaps I'll send in a foreign correspondent....
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
High Tide
This past weekend was a 16-mile trot about the San Francisco Bay Trail. We started at the Oracle parking lot in Redwood City at 6:30am, and wound our way up to San Mateo, through Seal Point Park, returning back from whence we came nearly three and a half hours later.
A few things struck me on this run. One, I go running for three-plus hours these days. Two, you can think a lot of thoughts during a three-plus hour run. Three, while thinking those thoughts, the scenery seems to mysteriously change around you so that when you look up every so often, you never seem to be completely oriented on the trail. You start swiveling your head to and fro, searching for a recognizable bush or telephone pole (which all look vaguely familiar, because they all look vaguely the same), and reassure yourself that since you don't recognize anything in particular from the view that is ten feet behind or in front of you, you must have been running for at least another mile since resurfacing from your deep thoughts. (Usually however, you've only run a mere 200 yards.)
It goes on like that for three hours: you drift out to your sea of thoughts, paddling about in your memories of the week, recalling your frustrations with silly people, and reeling in the moments when you embarrassed yourself during the day. Then you look back to shore and realize you've no idea how far you've drifted.
And running along the Bay Trail is the most literal experience of this sea-of-thoughts metaphor.
When I started out at 6:30, the sky was overcast, there was a slight breeze in the air, and the trail was unpopulated - save for the occasional dreary-eyed morning cyclist. The view was peaceful - the terrain relatively flat, with a winding pavement along the marsh edge. The marsh is composed of wet, slick, textured muck. It looks as if someone took a gigantic melon-scooper and removed some muck for a giant muck-fruit salad. Beyond that pleasant view is the bay, and you can see the water at low tide, lapping at the edges of the marsh, as if exiled from a place it once inhabited. If it weren't for the tall green grass and the moist texture of the marsh, you would think we were in drought season. A few muck-loving birds, statuesque, sprinkle the landscape with their profiles.
While running through this scene, sculling through the chore list in my head, I looked up every so often to watch the gradual shift in the bay. Slowly, but surely, the shoreline shifted. In places where I expected to see marshy mud pies and lanky grass, I only saw sandy beach and pooling bay tide. How suddenly the view had changed, and I felt that I had somehow missed it. How did that happen? In fact, during the last two miles of the run, I was convinced that global warming had tightened its stranglehold and elevated the water levels to new heights within a matter of forty minutes, the mucky terrain no longer visible further inland.
Watching the scenery, I drifted even further out to la-la-land. Then, the really random thoughts started flowing in...
At low tide, the bay looks pretty beat up and sorrowful, and as you run, feeling your muscles tighten up and wondering how you will ever make it back to the start, you begin to empathize with that mucky terrain, because in the beginning stages of your training seasons, you feel exactly like muck after an hour of relentless forward motion. And then high tide comes in, quietly and unassuming. The water covers everything, and you no longer see the marshy roots or the desolate, dank misery that was the beginning of the running...and you start to feel somewhat comfortable and energized. Not by much, because your feet haven't stopped moving, but a little bit.
The reason you become so energized is that you didn't realize there could be a high tide. The starting stages are no longer visible, and from that point, there's a new scene: everything looks effortless, expansive, and fluid. It looks pretty nice, actually, and it's somewhat peaceful. You become that high tide, creeping up on the shore, conquering it little by little. and that's quite an energizing thought.
And even if you hit low tide again, you can see the marks of high tide, the heights you reached on that expansive shore, and you know it's possible to get there again....
I finished the run with this thought in mind, and sat down to stretch out my now fluid-like legs, and I thought to myself, "I just paralleled my running experience to a Nicholas Sparks novel. Three plus hours of running will make you crazy."
A few things struck me on this run. One, I go running for three-plus hours these days. Two, you can think a lot of thoughts during a three-plus hour run. Three, while thinking those thoughts, the scenery seems to mysteriously change around you so that when you look up every so often, you never seem to be completely oriented on the trail. You start swiveling your head to and fro, searching for a recognizable bush or telephone pole (which all look vaguely familiar, because they all look vaguely the same), and reassure yourself that since you don't recognize anything in particular from the view that is ten feet behind or in front of you, you must have been running for at least another mile since resurfacing from your deep thoughts. (Usually however, you've only run a mere 200 yards.)
It goes on like that for three hours: you drift out to your sea of thoughts, paddling about in your memories of the week, recalling your frustrations with silly people, and reeling in the moments when you embarrassed yourself during the day. Then you look back to shore and realize you've no idea how far you've drifted.
And running along the Bay Trail is the most literal experience of this sea-of-thoughts metaphor.
When I started out at 6:30, the sky was overcast, there was a slight breeze in the air, and the trail was unpopulated - save for the occasional dreary-eyed morning cyclist. The view was peaceful - the terrain relatively flat, with a winding pavement along the marsh edge. The marsh is composed of wet, slick, textured muck. It looks as if someone took a gigantic melon-scooper and removed some muck for a giant muck-fruit salad. Beyond that pleasant view is the bay, and you can see the water at low tide, lapping at the edges of the marsh, as if exiled from a place it once inhabited. If it weren't for the tall green grass and the moist texture of the marsh, you would think we were in drought season. A few muck-loving birds, statuesque, sprinkle the landscape with their profiles.
While running through this scene, sculling through the chore list in my head, I looked up every so often to watch the gradual shift in the bay. Slowly, but surely, the shoreline shifted. In places where I expected to see marshy mud pies and lanky grass, I only saw sandy beach and pooling bay tide. How suddenly the view had changed, and I felt that I had somehow missed it. How did that happen? In fact, during the last two miles of the run, I was convinced that global warming had tightened its stranglehold and elevated the water levels to new heights within a matter of forty minutes, the mucky terrain no longer visible further inland.
Watching the scenery, I drifted even further out to la-la-land. Then, the really random thoughts started flowing in...
At low tide, the bay looks pretty beat up and sorrowful, and as you run, feeling your muscles tighten up and wondering how you will ever make it back to the start, you begin to empathize with that mucky terrain, because in the beginning stages of your training seasons, you feel exactly like muck after an hour of relentless forward motion. And then high tide comes in, quietly and unassuming. The water covers everything, and you no longer see the marshy roots or the desolate, dank misery that was the beginning of the running...and you start to feel somewhat comfortable and energized. Not by much, because your feet haven't stopped moving, but a little bit.
The reason you become so energized is that you didn't realize there could be a high tide. The starting stages are no longer visible, and from that point, there's a new scene: everything looks effortless, expansive, and fluid. It looks pretty nice, actually, and it's somewhat peaceful. You become that high tide, creeping up on the shore, conquering it little by little. and that's quite an energizing thought.
And even if you hit low tide again, you can see the marks of high tide, the heights you reached on that expansive shore, and you know it's possible to get there again....
I finished the run with this thought in mind, and sat down to stretch out my now fluid-like legs, and I thought to myself, "I just paralleled my running experience to a Nicholas Sparks novel. Three plus hours of running will make you crazy."
Monday, August 6, 2007
Proof
This weekend was a taper weekend, so I went up to Rancho on Saturday morning to get in a small run (which means, these days, between 5-7 miles...not so long ago, that would in no way seem small) at 7 am.
I've grown up near Rancho San Antonio, so the trails are familiar to me, though I had a new experience this weekend during the downhill portion of the Upper Wildcat trail. Traveling up the back way to Upper Wildcat, via Rogue Valley, entails shuffling along on a high altitude climb for what seems like five miles (though it's probably less than two). It's an amazingly challenging climb - back and forth, zigging and zagging to the peak, at which point you are rewarded with one of the most spectacular views of the Bay Area in the early morning. (I suspect, the view was put there so people won't complain about doing all that work for nothing.)
After stretching your glutes and refilling your lungs (which have shrivelled up to tiny sacs of pain) at the peak, you embark on the terrific downhill maze of Upper Wildcat. However, at a regular downhill rate, the scenery changes so quickly in comparison to the initial climb, that you feel like you should stop to take pictures. But for me, it literally became a blur when I found myself being propelled forward at a fantastic rate, thanks to the combined forces of gravity and Shot Blocks. I didn't hold back, and in fact just relaxed while my feet pattered down the trail, faster and faster, and my body fell forward as my legs kicked up behind me. My body started moving in precise harmony, and I watched as the dappled light through the trees started to flicker as I sailed through the woods.
Oddly enough, my legs didn't tire, and my lungs were comfortably airy (due to the quick descent), and after about five full minutes at this speed, I truly felt like I was flying. In fact, the feeling was so supreme, I started laughing as I realized that I had reached that inexplicable sensation some people call "the runner's high".
Granted, I had just expended an intense amount of effort to get to the top of that hill, and now I was going downhill so fast I didn't have a chance to relish the descent...but it didn't seem to matter as I felt so amazingly charged. The rest of the run was somewhat robotic in that my body was working in perfect sync on its own accord for a solid two miles.
And in fact, by the time I finished the run, I felt like I wanted to do it all over again, just to get that supreme rush. Yes, I wanted to climb that wretched hill all over again, that's how great it felt!
The mind-boggling moral to this anecdote is that I have tried to enjoy running for years, thinking that I could only stand it in little bouts. But now, after training for miles on end, I've discovered that I like the long hard runs. Why? Perhaps because I didn't think I'd ever get to that state, that runner's high. But yes, it's true, it exists. I know that now. And like they say, you really can't explain it, you just have to experience it.
I've grown up near Rancho San Antonio, so the trails are familiar to me, though I had a new experience this weekend during the downhill portion of the Upper Wildcat trail. Traveling up the back way to Upper Wildcat, via Rogue Valley, entails shuffling along on a high altitude climb for what seems like five miles (though it's probably less than two). It's an amazingly challenging climb - back and forth, zigging and zagging to the peak, at which point you are rewarded with one of the most spectacular views of the Bay Area in the early morning. (I suspect, the view was put there so people won't complain about doing all that work for nothing.)
After stretching your glutes and refilling your lungs (which have shrivelled up to tiny sacs of pain) at the peak, you embark on the terrific downhill maze of Upper Wildcat. However, at a regular downhill rate, the scenery changes so quickly in comparison to the initial climb, that you feel like you should stop to take pictures. But for me, it literally became a blur when I found myself being propelled forward at a fantastic rate, thanks to the combined forces of gravity and Shot Blocks. I didn't hold back, and in fact just relaxed while my feet pattered down the trail, faster and faster, and my body fell forward as my legs kicked up behind me. My body started moving in precise harmony, and I watched as the dappled light through the trees started to flicker as I sailed through the woods.
Oddly enough, my legs didn't tire, and my lungs were comfortably airy (due to the quick descent), and after about five full minutes at this speed, I truly felt like I was flying. In fact, the feeling was so supreme, I started laughing as I realized that I had reached that inexplicable sensation some people call "the runner's high".
Granted, I had just expended an intense amount of effort to get to the top of that hill, and now I was going downhill so fast I didn't have a chance to relish the descent...but it didn't seem to matter as I felt so amazingly charged. The rest of the run was somewhat robotic in that my body was working in perfect sync on its own accord for a solid two miles.
And in fact, by the time I finished the run, I felt like I wanted to do it all over again, just to get that supreme rush. Yes, I wanted to climb that wretched hill all over again, that's how great it felt!
The mind-boggling moral to this anecdote is that I have tried to enjoy running for years, thinking that I could only stand it in little bouts. But now, after training for miles on end, I've discovered that I like the long hard runs. Why? Perhaps because I didn't think I'd ever get to that state, that runner's high. But yes, it's true, it exists. I know that now. And like they say, you really can't explain it, you just have to experience it.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Mens sana in corpore sano
If someone had told me before I started this whole process that my Saturdays would be consist of 6:30am alarms, grueling runs through hilly terrain, soaking in cold tubs of iced water, and conking out at 4pm in the afternoon for a much-needed nap, you can bet I would have been suspicious about the "training" required for a marathon.
But, I've discovered that joining a marathon team is like joining a cult: everyone is so nice, friendly, and supportive in the beginning, and you only suspect they're all high off the endorphines from the endurance runs. So you decide join in, and nothing seems amiss...at first. You discover that you can run further and harder than ever before, and you grow addicted to the camaraderie the team provides.
And then, you look around one day, and you find yourself running 14 miles every other weekend, investing in those ridiculous looking fuel belts, and heatedly arguing that Shot Blocks are far superior to GU...all the while suppressing the urge to shout "Go Team!" at any passing recreationalist.
That's when you realize you've become one of them.
Luckily, you have grown addicted to those ice baths, which shock you back into the reality of training for a marathon: it is an event which requires unprecedented psychological strength. The cult-like culture of Team in Training comes in handy as both the mileage and physical strain increase. Team spirit keeps training sessions fun and lively; it's a necessity as the sheer task of the marathon itself can be mentally overwhelming.
Once you've run for over an hour or two, your mind starts to kick in and ask pestering questions, like "Who in their right mind goes out to run hills at 7 am on a Saturday?" and "That slight burning in my lungs must be a bad sign...stop running, stop now!"
When these moments happen, you turn to your fellow cult member and say "I've hit a wall..." and immediately, they'll pick you up with some words of encouragement. Some people pay thousands of dollars for that kind of mental boost!
Moreover, the training advice I've received from teammates and coaches stems from tried-and-true experience. Quickly, I've learned that the body runs on fuel, and when it runs out, you run into problems. Remember the old adage A sound mind in a sound body? Truer words were never spoken.
Water has become an absolute essential; whereas I used to drink it begrudgingly (knowing I'd get dehydrated if I didn't), I now suck it down as if it were liquid crack. Eating before and fueling during a long run - also essential. You've never loved GU so much until you've "bonked" at the start of a hill at the Stanford Dish. And having your shoes fitted correctly? Do it, or else say hello to the world of moleskin.
There aren't any shortcuts you can take in this process. Personally, I'm of the opinion that you either follow the advice of the resident gurus, or you suffer the consequences. And if you decide to risk it, you'll learn the hard way how difficult it is to manage a 12-mile run without the use of power gels, shoe inserts, or (God-forbid) a fuel belt.
But, I've discovered that joining a marathon team is like joining a cult: everyone is so nice, friendly, and supportive in the beginning, and you only suspect they're all high off the endorphines from the endurance runs. So you decide join in, and nothing seems amiss...at first. You discover that you can run further and harder than ever before, and you grow addicted to the camaraderie the team provides.
And then, you look around one day, and you find yourself running 14 miles every other weekend, investing in those ridiculous looking fuel belts, and heatedly arguing that Shot Blocks are far superior to GU...all the while suppressing the urge to shout "Go Team!" at any passing recreationalist.
That's when you realize you've become one of them.
Luckily, you have grown addicted to those ice baths, which shock you back into the reality of training for a marathon: it is an event which requires unprecedented psychological strength. The cult-like culture of Team in Training comes in handy as both the mileage and physical strain increase. Team spirit keeps training sessions fun and lively; it's a necessity as the sheer task of the marathon itself can be mentally overwhelming.
Once you've run for over an hour or two, your mind starts to kick in and ask pestering questions, like "Who in their right mind goes out to run hills at 7 am on a Saturday?" and "That slight burning in my lungs must be a bad sign...stop running, stop now!"
When these moments happen, you turn to your fellow cult member and say "I've hit a wall..." and immediately, they'll pick you up with some words of encouragement. Some people pay thousands of dollars for that kind of mental boost!
Moreover, the training advice I've received from teammates and coaches stems from tried-and-true experience. Quickly, I've learned that the body runs on fuel, and when it runs out, you run into problems. Remember the old adage A sound mind in a sound body? Truer words were never spoken.
Water has become an absolute essential; whereas I used to drink it begrudgingly (knowing I'd get dehydrated if I didn't), I now suck it down as if it were liquid crack. Eating before and fueling during a long run - also essential. You've never loved GU so much until you've "bonked" at the start of a hill at the Stanford Dish. And having your shoes fitted correctly? Do it, or else say hello to the world of moleskin.
There aren't any shortcuts you can take in this process. Personally, I'm of the opinion that you either follow the advice of the resident gurus, or you suffer the consequences. And if you decide to risk it, you'll learn the hard way how difficult it is to manage a 12-mile run without the use of power gels, shoe inserts, or (God-forbid) a fuel belt.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
DOMS and Calves
Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness. Let me tell you, it's the worst and/or best part of training. Although I've been training pretty hard with the team, and despite the fact that the runs are only going to get tougher as we log more mileage, I haven't given up my rock climbing activities. But, the caveat to this routine is DOMS.
Last night, I climbed pretty hard at the gym. My forearms felt like molten lead after about an hour...something Coach Jess likes to call being "pumped out" - though it feels more like worn out. I was proud that I climbed so hard, but felt the effects this morning.
Coupled with DOMS from climbing (my upper back is a nest of knots), I've been battling what I thought were shin splints. However, after visiting SMI this morning, I've been informed that my calves are just extremely tight, and the muscles hidden under the initial calf muscles are the source of the pain. I then experienced what I like to call "Leg Lamaze" - controlled breathing while you get a deep tissue therapist to work out the tightness in your inner calves. For an hour, I endured what can only be described as teeth-gritting, tingly-toed deep tissue massage. The therapist worked out the muscles in back and in front of the calf region, and I did all I could not to flail about and yelp in surprised agony.
The good news is, I just need to stretch more. The bad news is, I have to stretch alot more. We're talking two to three times a day.
Catch me at work. I'll be the one with her shoes off, hunched near her desk in some awkward position, pretending to be checking the power strip for the computer.
Last night, I climbed pretty hard at the gym. My forearms felt like molten lead after about an hour...something Coach Jess likes to call being "pumped out" - though it feels more like worn out. I was proud that I climbed so hard, but felt the effects this morning.
Coupled with DOMS from climbing (my upper back is a nest of knots), I've been battling what I thought were shin splints. However, after visiting SMI this morning, I've been informed that my calves are just extremely tight, and the muscles hidden under the initial calf muscles are the source of the pain. I then experienced what I like to call "Leg Lamaze" - controlled breathing while you get a deep tissue therapist to work out the tightness in your inner calves. For an hour, I endured what can only be described as teeth-gritting, tingly-toed deep tissue massage. The therapist worked out the muscles in back and in front of the calf region, and I did all I could not to flail about and yelp in surprised agony.
The good news is, I just need to stretch more. The bad news is, I have to stretch alot more. We're talking two to three times a day.
Catch me at work. I'll be the one with her shoes off, hunched near her desk in some awkward position, pretending to be checking the power strip for the computer.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Happiness Is Napping
I have a new appreciation for naps. These past few weeks, it has been getting progressively harder to get enough rest. My body seems more tired than usual, and I think it's just one of the effects of training. Our coaches told us to expect to need more rest than usual, but this is just getting ridiculous! I am not sleepy, but my body is not rested. My energy has gone down during the day; I feel so mellow, and all I can think about are naps. I've become somewhat obsessed with them, actually. I skipped lunch the other day to nap in one of the plush chairs at work. I slept for my whole lunch hour, which wouldn't seem too absurd, except for the fact that I slept so deeply I was dreaming! In the middle of the day! I have promised myself that I will go to bed earlier, but I've been thwarted by the motives of JK Rowling and her last Harry Potter installation.... Hence, these days, I've been taking more time to catch some extra shut-eye in the afternoons or mid-mornings.
I think the exhaustion is due to the rise in our training intensity. Last week, the training picked up during our track workouts: we did 800 x 400 repeat intervals, pacing ourselves so we ran consistently during each set. In layman's terms, we ran two laps (800) comfortably, then rested for a minute, then ran 1 lap (400) a little harder, making sure the time was the same if not less than the first lap we ran in the 800. Then we rested for another minute and started all over again! We did this three times, and I was proud to find out that I have near-perfect pacing - I completed each lap to the precise second of each preceding. (It felt surreal, but I wasn't surprised. The body has muscle memory that it taps into, and I'm sure that's what happened: my legs and arms just remembered how to move in the exact rhythm for a specific pace.)
However, then we had a 2-mile time trial to complete after these intervals. Granted, the intervals weren't hard, but it was the first time we had used them our track workouts. So, we started the time trial, and let me tell you: running around a track will mess with your mind. Great for the knees and other joints, but so boring. I got to my fourth lap and thought "Oh man, this is rough...and that grass looks so inviting...I could really use a nap..." It's not so much the running, but the mental struggle to keep going in circles!!
I suppose it's a great lesson in overcoming the negative thoughts that will attack me in the marathon (around mile 18, from what I hear) but I have a long way to go in combating my own thoughts.... I suppose the feeling of futility affected my end time, which turned out to be much slower than the intervals I seemed to complete so easily only 1/2 hour earlier. But, I guess that's why it's called "training"!
I recently learned that my schedule is going to get much more hectic. I was cast in a production of Chekhov's The Three Sisters, and the show goes up in September. This allows me about a month to prep, and rehearsals are every night from 7-10! In addition to my marathon training and this show, I've also been trying to keep up with my rock climbing...but those fall mats are pretty comfortable, and I often find myself dozing off without realizing...
On the bright side, I've been much more productive at work, so perhaps the napping is paying off. It definitely gives me a mental break and recharges me during the afternoons. Now, if I could just find a way to nap while running...
I think the exhaustion is due to the rise in our training intensity. Last week, the training picked up during our track workouts: we did 800 x 400 repeat intervals, pacing ourselves so we ran consistently during each set. In layman's terms, we ran two laps (800) comfortably, then rested for a minute, then ran 1 lap (400) a little harder, making sure the time was the same if not less than the first lap we ran in the 800. Then we rested for another minute and started all over again! We did this three times, and I was proud to find out that I have near-perfect pacing - I completed each lap to the precise second of each preceding. (It felt surreal, but I wasn't surprised. The body has muscle memory that it taps into, and I'm sure that's what happened: my legs and arms just remembered how to move in the exact rhythm for a specific pace.)
However, then we had a 2-mile time trial to complete after these intervals. Granted, the intervals weren't hard, but it was the first time we had used them our track workouts. So, we started the time trial, and let me tell you: running around a track will mess with your mind. Great for the knees and other joints, but so boring. I got to my fourth lap and thought "Oh man, this is rough...and that grass looks so inviting...I could really use a nap..." It's not so much the running, but the mental struggle to keep going in circles!!
I suppose it's a great lesson in overcoming the negative thoughts that will attack me in the marathon (around mile 18, from what I hear) but I have a long way to go in combating my own thoughts.... I suppose the feeling of futility affected my end time, which turned out to be much slower than the intervals I seemed to complete so easily only 1/2 hour earlier. But, I guess that's why it's called "training"!
I recently learned that my schedule is going to get much more hectic. I was cast in a production of Chekhov's The Three Sisters, and the show goes up in September. This allows me about a month to prep, and rehearsals are every night from 7-10! In addition to my marathon training and this show, I've also been trying to keep up with my rock climbing...but those fall mats are pretty comfortable, and I often find myself dozing off without realizing...
On the bright side, I've been much more productive at work, so perhaps the napping is paying off. It definitely gives me a mental break and recharges me during the afternoons. Now, if I could just find a way to nap while running...
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Owie Post-Maui
Today was a long run up in Woodside, along Edgewood Road. The Team met at 7am to do a 10-mile run, and the ensuing experience was pretty rough...
There were a few lessons I learned today, the first of which should have been obvious at 6:45 this morning: I did not get enough sleep this week. There is a reason the training schedule makes you rest on Fridays, and I should have taken that a little more seriously! It is incredible how quickly your energy runs out after your breakfast fuel has been utilized.
Secondly, I did not drink enough water the day before, leaving me running through the woods, wishing I could get my legs to go helter-skelter-ing up and down the hilly dirt trail. My sympathies go out to Sisyphus and his rock. My legs felt like lead, and on the run out, I kept thinking "...these downhills are still going to be here on the way back...but they're going to be uphills...!"
Lastly, and though this may seem minute, I didn't consider the chafing that would happen over the course of a two-point-five hour run. Hence, I am currently sporting some slightly uncomfortable spots where the skin has rubbed off...marathon battle scars, I call 'em.
However, I think alot of this past week's training was more intense than the "training" I did in Maui. Which also taught me that taking more than two days off from your training can work degenerative wonders on your aerobic system! I've made a mental note to try my hardest during these coming weeks to push myself little by little, to put some metaphorical money in the physical bank, so that by marathon time, I'll be absolutely ready to face those long 26 miles.
The best part of the run today was seeing the honorees, Doug and Roger, cheering us on through the morning. At mile 8, I will admit, I had second-thoughts about the mileage...and the race itself. I thought "Well, I've still got time to train, I don't have to finish this 10 mile today..." -but I knew that if I didn't do the last 2 miles, I would somehow have been disappointed in myself, that I would be starting down the path to quitting. Then I saw Doug and Roger smiling at us; they had been out here all morning, despite their condition, and so I thought "It's only 2 more miles...I can do 2 more miles."
And that seemed to give me all the energy I needed to finish.
It felt great, getting to the end of those miles, knowing that I finished it, that I didn't quit, and so we went out to celebrate with a huge breakfast.
...and I believe I learned the greatest lesson of the day during the meal at the Woodside Bakery:
Run to eat!
There were a few lessons I learned today, the first of which should have been obvious at 6:45 this morning: I did not get enough sleep this week. There is a reason the training schedule makes you rest on Fridays, and I should have taken that a little more seriously! It is incredible how quickly your energy runs out after your breakfast fuel has been utilized.
Secondly, I did not drink enough water the day before, leaving me running through the woods, wishing I could get my legs to go helter-skelter-ing up and down the hilly dirt trail. My sympathies go out to Sisyphus and his rock. My legs felt like lead, and on the run out, I kept thinking "...these downhills are still going to be here on the way back...but they're going to be uphills...!"
Lastly, and though this may seem minute, I didn't consider the chafing that would happen over the course of a two-point-five hour run. Hence, I am currently sporting some slightly uncomfortable spots where the skin has rubbed off...marathon battle scars, I call 'em.
However, I think alot of this past week's training was more intense than the "training" I did in Maui. Which also taught me that taking more than two days off from your training can work degenerative wonders on your aerobic system! I've made a mental note to try my hardest during these coming weeks to push myself little by little, to put some metaphorical money in the physical bank, so that by marathon time, I'll be absolutely ready to face those long 26 miles.
The best part of the run today was seeing the honorees, Doug and Roger, cheering us on through the morning. At mile 8, I will admit, I had second-thoughts about the mileage...and the race itself. I thought "Well, I've still got time to train, I don't have to finish this 10 mile today..." -but I knew that if I didn't do the last 2 miles, I would somehow have been disappointed in myself, that I would be starting down the path to quitting. Then I saw Doug and Roger smiling at us; they had been out here all morning, despite their condition, and so I thought "It's only 2 more miles...I can do 2 more miles."
And that seemed to give me all the energy I needed to finish.
It felt great, getting to the end of those miles, knowing that I finished it, that I didn't quit, and so we went out to celebrate with a huge breakfast.
...and I believe I learned the greatest lesson of the day during the meal at the Woodside Bakery:
Run to eat!
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Maui Vacation
Well, this Fourth of July has been pretty eventful: the family is spending time together in Maui, and I have been trying to keep up with my running schedule amidst the flurry of delayed flights, lost luggage, kayaking, snorkeling, poolside sunbathing, tennis matches, and delicious dinners on the town. I managed to achieve a pretty terrific sunburn the first day here, so the following two days were spent in the tiny basement gym of our condo complex. (I have discovered that running with a team is much more enjoyable than running on a treadmill, staring at a blank wall!)
This morning, I ventured down the road early, so as to avoid the heat that settles in around 9am. I was surprised to find that the humidity, though low compared to the East Coast, still got to me after about 20 minutes. (I was glad for the handkerchief I had tied around my head!)
I have to say that I have also been overwhelmed by the generosity of my friends and family over the past week. I have received many donations online, and a massive amount of moral support from across the country. It truly is inspiring to see how many people are willing to give to this cause, and it keeps me running in good spirits.
I ran my first 8 mile run last Saturday with the team in Half Moon Bay, and even as I write this, I feel as though it was no large feat. 5 minutes before we started, I was not sure how I would feel at the end of the run...and now, a week later, I think to myself "8 miles? That's nothing! Bring on the 15 miler!" The run itself was gorgeous - the weather was cool at 8am, and the sky stayed overcast for most of the morning. We ran alongside the coast, and had a nice little tailwind for the first half of the run. Turning around, we were met with that same little "tailwind" which turned into a bothersome headwind around the last 2 miles.... However, I managed to complete the run at about a 10:20 pace, while running an interval of 6 minutes on, 1.5 minutes walking. I felt pretty great about it, seeing as how I usually run a 12:00 min/mile pace on my weekday runs!
I am excited to run even further, and hope that the slight flare up in my right shin will dissipate over the next few weeks, as the mileage increases...
As always, if you'd like to donate to the cause, the link is listed on the bottom of my main page...
Thanks for reading, and stay posted!
This morning, I ventured down the road early, so as to avoid the heat that settles in around 9am. I was surprised to find that the humidity, though low compared to the East Coast, still got to me after about 20 minutes. (I was glad for the handkerchief I had tied around my head!)
I have to say that I have also been overwhelmed by the generosity of my friends and family over the past week. I have received many donations online, and a massive amount of moral support from across the country. It truly is inspiring to see how many people are willing to give to this cause, and it keeps me running in good spirits.
I ran my first 8 mile run last Saturday with the team in Half Moon Bay, and even as I write this, I feel as though it was no large feat. 5 minutes before we started, I was not sure how I would feel at the end of the run...and now, a week later, I think to myself "8 miles? That's nothing! Bring on the 15 miler!" The run itself was gorgeous - the weather was cool at 8am, and the sky stayed overcast for most of the morning. We ran alongside the coast, and had a nice little tailwind for the first half of the run. Turning around, we were met with that same little "tailwind" which turned into a bothersome headwind around the last 2 miles.... However, I managed to complete the run at about a 10:20 pace, while running an interval of 6 minutes on, 1.5 minutes walking. I felt pretty great about it, seeing as how I usually run a 12:00 min/mile pace on my weekday runs!
I am excited to run even further, and hope that the slight flare up in my right shin will dissipate over the next few weeks, as the mileage increases...
As always, if you'd like to donate to the cause, the link is listed on the bottom of my main page...
Thanks for reading, and stay posted!
Friday, June 29, 2007
26.2 Miles...I Must Be Crazy!
Welcome to the first installation of my marathon blog! I'll be using this space to keep track of my training and progress as I run for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team in Training. I am training for the Portland Marathon, to be held on October 7th of this year, and it will be my first marathon. While I claim to be an "experienced" runner, my only running claim-to-fame was a 2 month stint on the SFHS cross-country team with Coach Chisam during my senior year of high school. I left the team after experienceing a common ailment known as "shin splints"...or, as I like to call it, "the best excuse for running slowly." After quitting cross country, I abandoned all running aspirations in pursuit of other (less strenuous) adventures.
Upon moving back to the Bay Area this past winter, I decided to get out and enjoy the California sunshine, which led me back to running. I have been known to loop around the neighborhood now and then; you can catch me huffing and puffing after 20 minutes down at Rancho San Antonio. A few 5Ks here and there (30 minutes of running with 400 people closely packed around you) were about all I could handle. That said, the longest run I ever completed was a recent 7 1/2 mile extravaganza through San Francisco...also know as Bay to Breakers. The fun of the events, for me, is being with so many people who do this running thing everyday, and seeing them suddenly congregate in one spot. Looking over a crowd of nearly 1,000 runners on any given Sunday morning, you wonder: "Where did they all come from?"
But, now that I'm facing a 26.2 mile beast, I have mixed feelings. My first thought was "I'd love to be able to say I've completed a marathon!" and my second thought was "Why on Earth would I complete a marathon!? 26.2 miles...I must be crazy!!"
I have to thank my father for sending me an e-mail about Team in Training one afternoon. The Team was advertising a free workout at a local park preserve, so I thought I'd check it out and see if I liked it. Well, the first impression was incredible. Anyone who has started an activity alone knows how nerve-wracking it can be to walk into a group and try to blend in. Team in Training was so welcoming! From the very start, Coach Terry introduced himself and made sure I was given the run-down on how the day's traning would go, what I needed to do throughout, and even gave me some helpful tips on managing my shin splints (which had returned, but only on my right inside shin).
After running with the team for the first time, and discovering how encouraging everyone is, I decided to join the cause. The most striking aspect of this process was learning about the honorees. I am running to raise money for LLS, for cancer research, but I also have the good fortune to be interacting with the patients we are honoring through this season. There are a handful of local patients for whom we are running, and though some of them are battling leukemia right now, they come out to watch us train and cheer us on. It is extremely uplifting to see their smiling faces and hear their encouragement at the track when we are doing sets of never-ending lunges!
So, it is now two weeks into the training, and during my run yesterday, I felt that for the first time I was really starting to enjoy running! It used to be that I would head off on a 4 mile run with thoughts of "I'll be glad when this is over...!" but I am now finding that I can't wait for a 4-miler to start!
Of course, I still have 22.2. miles to cover and I hope that over the course of this season, I'll be able to stay safe and injury-free...
I'd like to also thank those of you who have already contributed to my efforts. Your donations provide me with additional moral support for those long runs ahead!
If you'd like to donate to my cause, I have a $2800 goal to reach before September. Donating is
easy! click on the link at the bottom of this webpage!
Stay posted and thanks for your support!!!
Upon moving back to the Bay Area this past winter, I decided to get out and enjoy the California sunshine, which led me back to running. I have been known to loop around the neighborhood now and then; you can catch me huffing and puffing after 20 minutes down at Rancho San Antonio. A few 5Ks here and there (30 minutes of running with 400 people closely packed around you) were about all I could handle. That said, the longest run I ever completed was a recent 7 1/2 mile extravaganza through San Francisco...also know as Bay to Breakers. The fun of the events, for me, is being with so many people who do this running thing everyday, and seeing them suddenly congregate in one spot. Looking over a crowd of nearly 1,000 runners on any given Sunday morning, you wonder: "Where did they all come from?"
But, now that I'm facing a 26.2 mile beast, I have mixed feelings. My first thought was "I'd love to be able to say I've completed a marathon!" and my second thought was "Why on Earth would I complete a marathon!? 26.2 miles...I must be crazy!!"
I have to thank my father for sending me an e-mail about Team in Training one afternoon. The Team was advertising a free workout at a local park preserve, so I thought I'd check it out and see if I liked it. Well, the first impression was incredible. Anyone who has started an activity alone knows how nerve-wracking it can be to walk into a group and try to blend in. Team in Training was so welcoming! From the very start, Coach Terry introduced himself and made sure I was given the run-down on how the day's traning would go, what I needed to do throughout, and even gave me some helpful tips on managing my shin splints (which had returned, but only on my right inside shin).
After running with the team for the first time, and discovering how encouraging everyone is, I decided to join the cause. The most striking aspect of this process was learning about the honorees. I am running to raise money for LLS, for cancer research, but I also have the good fortune to be interacting with the patients we are honoring through this season. There are a handful of local patients for whom we are running, and though some of them are battling leukemia right now, they come out to watch us train and cheer us on. It is extremely uplifting to see their smiling faces and hear their encouragement at the track when we are doing sets of never-ending lunges!
So, it is now two weeks into the training, and during my run yesterday, I felt that for the first time I was really starting to enjoy running! It used to be that I would head off on a 4 mile run with thoughts of "I'll be glad when this is over...!" but I am now finding that I can't wait for a 4-miler to start!
Of course, I still have 22.2. miles to cover and I hope that over the course of this season, I'll be able to stay safe and injury-free...
I'd like to also thank those of you who have already contributed to my efforts. Your donations provide me with additional moral support for those long runs ahead!
If you'd like to donate to my cause, I have a $2800 goal to reach before September. Donating is
easy! click on the link at the bottom of this webpage!
Stay posted and thanks for your support!!!
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