Monday, September 22, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
20 Miles. Perfect Weather. Excellent Training. What Could Go Wrong?
Everything. And no, I'm not being dramatic. Literally everything.
Last night was a fabulous lead-in. A fundraising, carbo-loading, pasta party. I had a great time surrounded by friends and family, and was really getting excited for my big twenty miler. Melissa and I agreed to try to get to the Lakefront by 5:00 am. Early? Yes. But it was supposed to get hot today, and we really wanted to beat the heat.
Around 3:30, I remember my alarm going off. I heard it, and thought, "Eh, I can hit snooze once. Twenty minutes and I'll be ready to go." The next thing I remember is Melissa knocking on my door at 4:10. Wake up call. Oops. That was the first thing to go wrong. I let Melissa in, and ran around the house getting ready as quickly as possible. Jon filled up my water bottles for my fuel belt last night, so I just had to grab them out of the fridge, grab my fuel belt, and I'd be ready to head out the door. Just one problem -- I couldn't find my fuel belt. I spent a good 45 minutes tearing my house apart before I decided I was just going to have to deal with losing last year's belt. (#2)
We finally make it to the Lakefront at 6:00, which was okay. We were still early, even if not quite as early. We did 3 miles before I had to ditch the old belt. It was rubbing, poking, and causing chafing after only three miles. No way was I going to risk dealing with that for 17 more miles. (#3) I reasoned that there are lots of water stations and water fountains along the course, and I'd take it easy and stop for water every single time. We realized it was getting close to 7:00 and we were still in the parking lot, so we did 2 more miles and joined the TEAM for our mission moment. We even got a prize (Melissa got a hat) for driving the farthest to get there. Things were starting to look up.
As we headed out to run, Melissa found $10 on the ground. Sweet! A donation to my fundraising! (Melissa met her goal already.) Things were really starting to turn around. What I should have noticed at the time was that the good things were happening to Melissa. Things had not, in fact, started to look up for me.
As we started off our sixth mile, I overheard two fellow TNT'ers talking about how funny it was that their "kids" didn't understand that they couldn't, and weren't going to win the marathon. I chimed in, "My students ask me about that all the time!" Turns out they were both teachers. We seemed to be running at a similar pace as these ladies, although their ratio was 8:2 and ours 6:2. We passed eachother back and forth for a while, before they said, "We're just going to run with you." This was the one part of my day that went well. Miles 7 - 13, with our new friends Carly and Ann beside us, were a blast. We told funny stories, laughed, and enjoyed the company of new friends. We lost track of the miles. It was so much fun. We even found out that Carly and I went to the same high school, and Ann a high school in a neighboring district. We're trying to bully these ladies into running with the North Team... instead of the West Team next year. :)
I did, however, notice that I was constantly thirsty during these miles. I lived for waterstops and water fountains. (#4) I began stealing sips of water from Melissa and my new friend, Carly. (Carly's justification: we're both teachers. We have all the same germs.) And then, ever so slowly between mile 13 - 13.5, my legs began to get very heavy. (#5) Just before mile 14, my calves started to tighten worse than I've ever felt, in any run, ever. (#6) I tried walking with different strides to stretch them out, as it's not advised to stop and stretch during a run. When that didn't work, I tried to gently stretch my calves. I squatted to try to stretch, just a little. Bad idea. I felt the most intense tightening of muscles I've ever felt. (#7)
It was then that we ran into one of the West Team coaches. Melissa & Carly explained what was going on, and she said, "You have two choices. I wish I had cab money to give you, but I don't." Melissa chimed in, "We found $10 on the ground this morning. I have it." From then on, I apparently only had one choice. "Go get a cab. If your 18 miler was good, this is not worth it. Get in the cab. You are well trained. You need to get a cab. You need to take care of yourself. Pushing it could mean not making it to race day. Get a cab." When she found out I was training for Nike and not Chicago, she became even more persistent, because I do have the option for a 20 miler (or another long run) next weekend. Although I can be stubborn, I know when to listen to someone who knows more than I do. So I took my $10 and got a cab back to the parking lot. (#8)
I felt so defeated driving down Lake Shore Drive, looking at all the runners, following the route I should have been running. I knew I made the right choice, but I was heartbroken.
I got to the parking lot, where I was happy to see Athletico trainers. I got stretched out, drank lots of water, called my parents and Jon crying, got some pep talks, and started to feel a little better. A little over an hour later, I watched Melissa come running in, beaming. I'm so proud of her for knocking off her first twenty like it was nothing.
I felt okay driving home, but could feel my leg muscles tightening again. By the time I got home, I could feel myself going downhill again. I spent all day today bundled in way more layers of clothing than were appropriate in 80 degree weather, shivering. I couldn't get my heartrate to slow to a normal resting heartrate. I was exhausted, and my head would not stop pounding. My neck and back were throbbing. Apparently I was a lot more dehydrated than I thought. I'm finally doing better, sitting on the couch and resting up.
Despite the fact that 8 more things than should have gone wrong, did... I'm at peace with today. I made a good choice. And I suppose I can look on the bright side: feeling the pain in my legs today told me what pain to push through, and when to call it a day. Today, I needed to call it a day. All I can do is chalk this one up to experience.
29 days till the Nike Women's Marathon.
Last night was a fabulous lead-in. A fundraising, carbo-loading, pasta party. I had a great time surrounded by friends and family, and was really getting excited for my big twenty miler. Melissa and I agreed to try to get to the Lakefront by 5:00 am. Early? Yes. But it was supposed to get hot today, and we really wanted to beat the heat.
Around 3:30, I remember my alarm going off. I heard it, and thought, "Eh, I can hit snooze once. Twenty minutes and I'll be ready to go." The next thing I remember is Melissa knocking on my door at 4:10. Wake up call. Oops. That was the first thing to go wrong. I let Melissa in, and ran around the house getting ready as quickly as possible. Jon filled up my water bottles for my fuel belt last night, so I just had to grab them out of the fridge, grab my fuel belt, and I'd be ready to head out the door. Just one problem -- I couldn't find my fuel belt. I spent a good 45 minutes tearing my house apart before I decided I was just going to have to deal with losing last year's belt. (#2)
We finally make it to the Lakefront at 6:00, which was okay. We were still early, even if not quite as early. We did 3 miles before I had to ditch the old belt. It was rubbing, poking, and causing chafing after only three miles. No way was I going to risk dealing with that for 17 more miles. (#3) I reasoned that there are lots of water stations and water fountains along the course, and I'd take it easy and stop for water every single time. We realized it was getting close to 7:00 and we were still in the parking lot, so we did 2 more miles and joined the TEAM for our mission moment. We even got a prize (Melissa got a hat) for driving the farthest to get there. Things were starting to look up.
As we headed out to run, Melissa found $10 on the ground. Sweet! A donation to my fundraising! (Melissa met her goal already.) Things were really starting to turn around. What I should have noticed at the time was that the good things were happening to Melissa. Things had not, in fact, started to look up for me.
As we started off our sixth mile, I overheard two fellow TNT'ers talking about how funny it was that their "kids" didn't understand that they couldn't, and weren't going to win the marathon. I chimed in, "My students ask me about that all the time!" Turns out they were both teachers. We seemed to be running at a similar pace as these ladies, although their ratio was 8:2 and ours 6:2. We passed eachother back and forth for a while, before they said, "We're just going to run with you." This was the one part of my day that went well. Miles 7 - 13, with our new friends Carly and Ann beside us, were a blast. We told funny stories, laughed, and enjoyed the company of new friends. We lost track of the miles. It was so much fun. We even found out that Carly and I went to the same high school, and Ann a high school in a neighboring district. We're trying to bully these ladies into running with the North Team... instead of the West Team next year. :)
I did, however, notice that I was constantly thirsty during these miles. I lived for waterstops and water fountains. (#4) I began stealing sips of water from Melissa and my new friend, Carly. (Carly's justification: we're both teachers. We have all the same germs.) And then, ever so slowly between mile 13 - 13.5, my legs began to get very heavy. (#5) Just before mile 14, my calves started to tighten worse than I've ever felt, in any run, ever. (#6) I tried walking with different strides to stretch them out, as it's not advised to stop and stretch during a run. When that didn't work, I tried to gently stretch my calves. I squatted to try to stretch, just a little. Bad idea. I felt the most intense tightening of muscles I've ever felt. (#7)
It was then that we ran into one of the West Team coaches. Melissa & Carly explained what was going on, and she said, "You have two choices. I wish I had cab money to give you, but I don't." Melissa chimed in, "We found $10 on the ground this morning. I have it." From then on, I apparently only had one choice. "Go get a cab. If your 18 miler was good, this is not worth it. Get in the cab. You are well trained. You need to get a cab. You need to take care of yourself. Pushing it could mean not making it to race day. Get a cab." When she found out I was training for Nike and not Chicago, she became even more persistent, because I do have the option for a 20 miler (or another long run) next weekend. Although I can be stubborn, I know when to listen to someone who knows more than I do. So I took my $10 and got a cab back to the parking lot. (#8)
I felt so defeated driving down Lake Shore Drive, looking at all the runners, following the route I should have been running. I knew I made the right choice, but I was heartbroken.
I got to the parking lot, where I was happy to see Athletico trainers. I got stretched out, drank lots of water, called my parents and Jon crying, got some pep talks, and started to feel a little better. A little over an hour later, I watched Melissa come running in, beaming. I'm so proud of her for knocking off her first twenty like it was nothing.
I felt okay driving home, but could feel my leg muscles tightening again. By the time I got home, I could feel myself going downhill again. I spent all day today bundled in way more layers of clothing than were appropriate in 80 degree weather, shivering. I couldn't get my heartrate to slow to a normal resting heartrate. I was exhausted, and my head would not stop pounding. My neck and back were throbbing. Apparently I was a lot more dehydrated than I thought. I'm finally doing better, sitting on the couch and resting up.
Despite the fact that 8 more things than should have gone wrong, did... I'm at peace with today. I made a good choice. And I suppose I can look on the bright side: feeling the pain in my legs today told me what pain to push through, and when to call it a day. Today, I needed to call it a day. All I can do is chalk this one up to experience.
29 days till the Nike Women's Marathon.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Rain, rain go away...
A runner should always train in all kinds of weather. You never know if race day will bring rain or sunshine, heat or cold. This morning, I ignored that good thinking. I woke up with a horrible cold... and I decided, with the 20 miler on the horizion for next Saturday, I wasn't doing myself any good if I got more sick.
Here's to orange juice and getting better soon!
Here's to orange juice and getting better soon!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
18 is a lot of miles. But what a good reason to run.
It's weird to see how your thoughts change during the course of marathon training. At the beginning of the season, those big runs seem looming. 16, 18, 20 miles? Somehow an 18 or 20 mile training run seems a whole lot bigger than the 26.2 race day. At least on race day there are tons of people out there cheering. But doing 18 miles on a Saturday morning, just to prepare your body for an even bigger task? Sometimes it's still hard for me to fathom that I go out and run double-digit miles, only to feel achy the next day. There are no medals for training runs, no spectators cheering you on. And yet. We do it. We wake up at 4:00 am, just to be at the Lakefront Path by 5:30 so we can beat the afternoon heat. We fight out 18 miles, because we believe in a cause, and we believe that we can do 26.2.
The last few weeks of training, I've really been thinking about the reason that I run. Last weekend, at our cutback week 12-miler, my teammates and I listened to an especially powerful Mission Moment. (Misson Moments are given by cancer survivors, families of Patient Honorees, or those who have had their lives touched by our mission.) Two fellow TNT participants got up to share their story. A leukemia survivor, she was looking for a way to celebrate her recovery. 26.2 miles fit the bill, and what better way to do it than to fundraise for TNT? However, she didn't want to set out on her journey alone. After pestering everyone she knew to run with her, finally, her husband's good friend agreed. They ran their first marathon together, and a few years later, he is now undergoing chemotheraphy and radiation treatments. And yet I still see him out there, week after week, training for his event. After they spoke, my coach asked all the survivors we have training with us to raise their hands. Over half my team proudly raised their hands up high. I was taken aback. I always knew we had survivors out there with us, but I didn't realize just how many.
My dad and aunt ran 4 marathons with TNT almost a decade ago. In 2001, the first survivors started being able to come out and train for TEAM. Now, just seven years later, nearly half of the participants I see on a daily basis are survivors. The cure rates are soaring higher. It's really unbelieveable to see. I love being a part of something like this. And yet, there are still stories like several of our patient honorees this season. Yesterday, September 6, would have been Fabian's 12th birthday. At our training run, his mom sent up balloons and the team sang "Happy Birthday." We know he was looking down on us, proud of our accomplishments yesterday. We run because there are still stories like Fabian's, and Nicholas (another honoree who lost his fight). And TEAM will keep running until there are no more sad stories. Only happy ones.
Yesterday's 18 miles were full of emotion. When we hit the path at 5:45, all I could think was, "Why did I think that a burrito was a good dinner before a long run?" That thought played over and over in my head for about the first 4 miles. With two good friends beside me, though, we stopped counting every.single.mile and just chatted. It was a beautiful day to be out running, and there was so much to see at the Lakefront yesterday. We saw the setup for Flugtag, a UIC swimming and diving event, and ran part of the way tangled with runners from the 5k Lung Run. The many distractions helped us forget just how many miles we had to conquer.
It wasn't until miles 17 and 18 that we really started to wish it was over. And that's how training goes. You're really strong until you get to the longest distance you've run before. So those 16 were fabulous, but those last 2... well... we were able to keep running because we knew we had to. It didn't hurt to know there was the Patient Honoree Picnic at the end -- with more post-run goodies than I've ever seen.
And because it was such a good run, I won't even talk about the fact that when we were ready to go home, we were parked in by one car in the front, and two in the back. It was that good of a day.
The last few weeks of training, I've really been thinking about the reason that I run. Last weekend, at our cutback week 12-miler, my teammates and I listened to an especially powerful Mission Moment. (Misson Moments are given by cancer survivors, families of Patient Honorees, or those who have had their lives touched by our mission.) Two fellow TNT participants got up to share their story. A leukemia survivor, she was looking for a way to celebrate her recovery. 26.2 miles fit the bill, and what better way to do it than to fundraise for TNT? However, she didn't want to set out on her journey alone. After pestering everyone she knew to run with her, finally, her husband's good friend agreed. They ran their first marathon together, and a few years later, he is now undergoing chemotheraphy and radiation treatments. And yet I still see him out there, week after week, training for his event. After they spoke, my coach asked all the survivors we have training with us to raise their hands. Over half my team proudly raised their hands up high. I was taken aback. I always knew we had survivors out there with us, but I didn't realize just how many.
My dad and aunt ran 4 marathons with TNT almost a decade ago. In 2001, the first survivors started being able to come out and train for TEAM. Now, just seven years later, nearly half of the participants I see on a daily basis are survivors. The cure rates are soaring higher. It's really unbelieveable to see. I love being a part of something like this. And yet, there are still stories like several of our patient honorees this season. Yesterday, September 6, would have been Fabian's 12th birthday. At our training run, his mom sent up balloons and the team sang "Happy Birthday." We know he was looking down on us, proud of our accomplishments yesterday. We run because there are still stories like Fabian's, and Nicholas (another honoree who lost his fight). And TEAM will keep running until there are no more sad stories. Only happy ones.
Yesterday's 18 miles were full of emotion. When we hit the path at 5:45, all I could think was, "Why did I think that a burrito was a good dinner before a long run?" That thought played over and over in my head for about the first 4 miles. With two good friends beside me, though, we stopped counting every.single.mile and just chatted. It was a beautiful day to be out running, and there was so much to see at the Lakefront yesterday. We saw the setup for Flugtag, a UIC swimming and diving event, and ran part of the way tangled with runners from the 5k Lung Run. The many distractions helped us forget just how many miles we had to conquer.
It wasn't until miles 17 and 18 that we really started to wish it was over. And that's how training goes. You're really strong until you get to the longest distance you've run before. So those 16 were fabulous, but those last 2... well... we were able to keep running because we knew we had to. It didn't hurt to know there was the Patient Honoree Picnic at the end -- with more post-run goodies than I've ever seen.
And because it was such a good run, I won't even talk about the fact that when we were ready to go home, we were parked in by one car in the front, and two in the back. It was that good of a day.
Monday, September 1, 2008
12... in the sun
12 miles in the sun is so much better than 12 in the rain. It's insane how much easier it is to "step down" than "step up."
:o)
:o)
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