Empire State of Mind

FINISHER!!!!!!!!!

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Breathe.

My marathon clothes are in my carry-on bag. There's extra room in my suitcase for goodies from NYC. My stomach is in knots. I have (imagined) pain in my knees.  My feet. My ankles. My sore throat is (nearly) gone. My goal of $1,000 has been raised. I've tapered and rested and hydrated all week. I have only consumed one glass of wine in the last nine days. I have running sleeves and throw-away clothes to keep me warm for the three and a half hours I spend sitting around at the start.  I have my iPod loaded and Eric's phone is set up to track me on the course. My shirt and skirt have been decorated with love and I have a lucky coin to carry with me during the race. I have sport beans and bars and packets of peanut butter packed to take with me. I've checked, re-checked, triple-checked, and checked one more time to make sure that I have the necessities. I've looked at maps and course strategies and elevation gains and the starting village layout. Over and over again. I (think) I've figured out how to meet my family after the race. I have two cameras packed and my Garmin watch is charging. I've checked us in and already paid for our baggage. I've confirmed at the hotel and have printed multiple copies of my official registration form for the expo. I've set up my automatic reply for my work email and voice-mail. I'm obsessing over the NYC Marathon website and Facebook page. I'm in my PJs, my teeth are brushed, and my last minute toiletries are set aside to get packed in the morning. 

It's go-time.

I'm excited.  And nervous. And thrilled. And scared. Scared shitless. And amazed.

This is going to be amazing. 

 

 

 

Michelle's a MARATHONER!

I did it.  I completed 20 miles today.  T w e n t y.  That's ridiculous, isn't it?  Phew. Of course I did it slowly--but steadily--keeping the same pace for nearly all 20 miles... even when I WANTED to pick up the pace, my body said, "Nope, Sister.  We're going to hold steady right here..."  Ok.  Hold steady we did.  For 20 damn miles.

But even better than my own long run today was jumping into the car and scrambling to the finish line of the Denver Marathon to witness my friend Michele cross the finish line of her first marathon.  Powerful stuff.  I had to hold back my 'ugly cry' (if she had lost it, I certainly would have too, but that girl Michelle is a powerhouse and finished strong--mentally and physically--and barely even squeezed out a tear). The minute I got even CLOSE to the finish line I had to hold back tears.  Seriously.  Seeing all of these people, most hobbling, having fulfilled a dream of either 13.1 or 26.2 miles is magical.  The energy is unbelievable. If you've never been to a race, I highly, highly suggest it.  You'll be inspired in deep, deep ways.

But I digress....

I thought for sure I was going to be too late.  I wanted to get up early enough to get my run in AND make it to the race before my girl finished but darkness has a hold on the mornings now and I had to push back my starting time a bit. So it was crunch time. The combination of trying to snake my way through the back streets to avoid the runners with my tightening muscles added to a six block walk once I finally found a parking spot, and I was certain I was going to miss it. Dammit. But alas, this story has a happy ending. Just as I made it to the fence keeping the spectators away from the finish line path I stood for about two minutes and then got to scream, "MICHELLE!!!  MICHELLE!!!!!" and hug that beautiful finisher for a long, long time.  It was magical.  Being a witness to someone's dream fulfilled is an amazing gift and I am so lucky to have shared that moment with her.

This weekend was filled with a lot of dreams for friends in my life... one friend from high-school finished her first marathon in Des Moines, the same place where another friend from high-school earned a personal best in the half-marathon.  Another friend finished the Denver half TEN MINUTES faster than she anticipated.  I am in awe.  Truly. Congratulations to each and every one of you guys... you inspire me.

After some good grub, some good booze, and a lot of laughs with Michelle, her husband, and her friend, I finally made it home to the couch where I can't get my mind to stop thinking about what's going to happen in 20 short days. I'm going to get to cross the finish line (so help me God) myself.

Hot damn!  I'm getting so excited!!!!! 

It's taper time!  It's taper time!  Only two more weekend runs... a 12-er and an 8-er.  Bring it!

Travel + Training

It's not easy traveling for work while in the peak week of training for a marathon. Because I'm not comfortable running outside in an area that I'm unfamiliar with, I have to hit the treadmill.  Why, oh why, is it so damn difficult to have a smooth treadmill in a hotel?  Aren't we all trying to get healthy these days?  Good God. Sure, the Hyatt and other swanky places have nice gyms with cold washcloths and such but I'm staying in places like the Hampton Inn which usually take an old closet and throw up a mirrored wall, mount a TV, add a treadmill and maybe some sort of complicated weight machine and call it a 'workout room.' My set-up at home puts this to shame (and my set-up at home is minimal).

So anyway, this week is my 'peak' training week and I'm in Tulsa for four nights for work.  On the first night I throw on my sneaks and hit the workout room where I hop on the treadmill only to have it grind and stutter and generally make me feel fearful for my safety.  DAMMIT.  This will NOT do. RAGE!!!!  I immediately march to the front desk and ask how they're going to make this better.  Bitchy?  Maybe.  But this is my PEAK WEEK of training, people!!!  A crappy-ass treadmill is simply UNACCEPTABLE.

The nice lady at the desk sensed my craziness and did the good deed of hooking me up with a temporary membership at Gold's Gym down the street.  While this isn't ideal--I much prefer NOT having to get in the car to go workout, I thanked her kindly and headed on over.

The gym was nice--there were individual TVs hooked up to the treadmills and a minimal number of meat-heads cruising around (there was one girl--in heels--who just keep walking around... never saw her change clothes, never saw her get on a machine... I just do NOT get this... is she really trying to meet someone by wearing heels around the gym????).  ANYWAY.  Things were going well until I saw the signs posted ALL OVER the cardio machines:  30 minute limit.  WHAT?????????  30 minutes?  That's crazy talk. PEAK. WEEK.  PEOPLE.  I need more than 30 minutes on your damn machine.  

Don't you worry.  When the guy came around to check our times (yes, this is true), I simply hopped on over to another machine and put in a second 30 minutes over there. I was waiting for him to say something but he must have seen my 'crazy training eyes' and decided to let me be.  Good call, buddy, good call.

I've got twenty this Sunday.  Lord help me.  And then it's the sweet, sweet taper... ahhhh.... Bring. It. On.

 

To Have a Time Goal or Not... ???

It's not often that I set foot outside of the house on a Friday night.  By the end of the work week I'm normally wiped out and winding down.  I usually have class on Saturday morning and therefore hit my bed before the evening news comes on more weeks than not.  

This quarter my classes don't begin until 1:00pm.  That's right--1:00!  That's CRAZY! And AWESOME!  And so I've been out of my house in shoes with heels the past two weeks in a row and it's been fantastic!  The first Friday was a 'Sonoma Reunion' of sorts with the local ladies I traveled to wine country with this summer... I swore I'd be home BY midnight but how could I leave when my cheeks hurt from laughing and the wine tasted so so sooooo goooood???  I was home by 1:30am.

This past Friday I got Eric to join me at a local venue for some live music with some other friends.  Eric and I had one-on-one time at dinner then joined the crew for some drinks before the show and found a little corner to ourselves inside The Gothic Theater to annoy everyone around us by doing more talking than listening... So. Fun.

Nor surprisingly, the topic of my marathon came up. It always comes up.  Now keep in mind that of the five people I was with, four of them have all run a marathon themselves (my darling husband being the only virgin). One of my friends asked me what my goal was to which I replied, "To finish." In any non-marathon crowd, this answer is more than sufficient and the subsequent conversation revolves around phrases like, "Who cares how long it takes?" and "Just enjoy it," and "Just finishing it is incredible!"  Not so in this group, however.  Suddenly I'm in the middle of a circle with questions and statements being throw at me without pause, "You HAVE to have a goal!"  "You can't run a marathon without a goal!"  "What IS your goal??"  "I think you can run it in 4:15."  "At least beat Oprah."  "SERIOUSLY.  You.  Gotta. Have. A Goal." "Anyone can run a marathon--you gotta have a GOAL!" 

I don't know if it was the wine that I'd enjoyed that evening or something much, much, much deeper but the reaction that I had was to cry.  I didn't, mind you.  But it was all I could do to hold back the tears. And I couldn't figure out why. It was such a visceral reaction to normal questions that I would normally be able to throw back as quickly as they were being hurled. Why the strong response?

I've spent all weekend trying to peel back the emotions that came out of nowhere when faced with normal questions regarding the marathon.  Why DON'T I have a goal?  Do I really believe myself when I say that I just want to finish?  Would it feel different if they had just said, "We're so proud of you?" like my non-marathon friends do?

I think, deep down, I'm scared to death.  Running a marathon for the second time is actually way worse than the first time.  Because this time around I have something to compare it to.  I know what I'm capable of and any rationale thinking states that one should be able to run faster this time around. Knowing what to expect and how to do things differently should GUARANTEE a faster time.  Does anyone ever actually run more SLOWLY the second time around? Is there anything more shameful?

When I began training I was determined to beat my time in my first marathon but as my job took over and my classes kicked in and my body failed me, I threw my time goal away and felt better.  Sort of. Deep down I want to kick my original time's ass but somewhere not-quite-so-deep is a fear that stuns me so I say things like, "I just want to finish."  I'd like to think that I have control of my competitiveness but the reality is:  Not when it comes to competing against myself. No matter what I say to the contrary.

There.  I said it.

At the time, I just started spewing back to my friends with my standards lines, "I have so much going on."  "When I signed up for this I didn't know I'd be in a new job, working all summer, traveling, and in class."  "I just want to finish.  Seriously."  "There are FIVE BRIDGES (I think).  Chicago is known for being flat but New York is known for being tough. It's like comparing apples to oranges."  "I'm running it for Dawn--it's not about me." Again. In a non-marathon crowd there'd be nods and, "Of course!" replies but all I got from this group was, "You don't have kids.  Don't talk to me about busy." Conversation over. I'm not even going to go there. I took another sip of my drink and made my way to the bathroom to catch my breath.

Meanwhile my sweet husband gently kept diplomatically reminding the group that no one else was running it.  He knows me so well.  He knew the tears were there and he wanted to make it better. Which is saying a lot because if an-y-one is competitive, it's my darling Eric. His standing line is, "If you don't win, don't come home."  He's joking... of course.  Ish.

So anyway, it got to me.  All of it got to me.  I hit the trail today and kicked it up a notch.  Which was good--for about four miles.  And then, as usual, everything tightened up and my pace slowed back to my snail-like routine and I got back into my groove.  Which is a slow groove.  A groove that would surely disappoint my group of marathon friends.  The group that says, "Anyone can run a marathon."  But to me, it fits. I'm never going to be a Boston qualifier.  Not even remotely close.  I'm a mid-to-back-of-the-pack runner and more than likely always will be.

Where am I now?  Torn.  My head logically tells me to take my time, just run it to run it.  But my heart or my gut or whatever that deeper emotion is, tells me that I have to run it fast (or at least faster than last time) or it will be all for naught.  Which is ridiculous, I know.  I'm not even running this race for me--I'm running for Dawn.  But I want to be able to tell her my time with pride. Instead, I will most likely say, "I finished."  Which is ok.  Right?  

Good God.  Marathon training is an exercise for the mind and self and soul as much as for the body.  I've got four weeks to figure it out I guess...

 

 

Yesssssssss!!!!!

When my Garmin watch officially informed me that I had just completed 19 miles of running, I started to cry.  Not because I was in pain; not because something went wrong... Nope.  I'm happy to report that today's tears came from true joy, relief, passion, and thrill.  I pulled off 19 miles (very, very slowly, mind you) and was still smiling.  I actually had a negative split (the second half of my run was faster than the first half--exactly like I wanted) and serendipitously my theme song, 'Empire State of Mind' came on my random-set iPod at mile 17, just when I needed it most.  Besides being generally sore from hours of pounding on my legs and feet, I felt fantastic!  

Thank.  Frickin'. God. 

For the first time since my training began, I feel like I will actually be able to do this.  Things are coming together.  I've finally figured out my nutrition while I'm on the trail, I've got my pace down at the beginning, middle, and end of my training runs, and most importantly, I'm not running for me anymore. And what a difference that made for me today. Just when I found myself focusing on my many aches and pains and the fact that I still had eight miles left to go, I'd think of Dawn and her strength and I'd stop with my self-loathing and would keep on going.  For her.  It was incredible.

I've got 48 days until the marathon and I am totally focused.  Let the countdown begin!

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!

(PLEASE remember to stop by www.crowdrise.com/irunfordawn and support me!!!!  Even the smallest amount helps!)

I Run For Dawn!

A-ha!  I know why my training has been such an enormous struggle... I had no PURPOSE.  I was simply putting in the miles and hoping that once I crossed the finish line in NYC, I'd feel like I did when I crossed the finish line in Chicago in 2003.  Changed.  But I was beginning to doubt it.  There's something to be said about trying to reenact a moment... it's difficult to do it sincerely.  I had moments of wondering if I should have let the moment lie and just enjoy the marathon as a spectator.

And then.

I reconnected with my girl Dawn and got everything set up to run in honor of her and her organization, America Against Malaria.  Suddenly I am re-inspired.  Seriously. Now when I run, I am running a little bit longer, a tiny bit faster, and with a spirit in my step that has been lacking for months and months.  It's magical and amazing and I am so very, very thankful.

The first time I ran the marathon it was totally and completely about me.  That event was about proving to myself that I could do it.  That I could do something AMAZING. And I was a changed woman for accomplishing that goal.  I will never forget the moment of crossing that finish line, tears streaming down my face, knowing that I was a different woman than the one who crossed the starting line, hours earlier.

And now it's not about me at all.  It's about Dawn. And I am so grateful for this greater purpose in this physical and mental challenge.  I now run for Dawn.  For her life and her beauty, her determination and her courage.  I run for her laughter, her spirit, her smile and her future.  

There are eight weeks of training left.  I've got a lot of miles to cover and a lot of money to raise!  YAAAAAY!

PLEASE check it out:  www.crowdrise.com/irunfordawn

Struggling.

Crap.  My goal of keeping this blog up mirrors my life right about now.  A big scattered. A bit of a struggle. Attempting to juggle a new job, my doctoral program, and my marathon training means that some other stuff just has to go.  Unfortunately that 'stuff' has included my writing.  And cleaning.  And laundry.  And going grocery shopping only when I'm out of ever-y-thing.  I am keeping a hand-written running log after every single run but that just includes numbers and gems like, "Legs=Lead,"  "Stupid big hill,"  and, "Darker in AM now."  Brilliant.

*****

Anyway...

As an update, I'm up to 17 miles.  Hopefully. That feat actually comes tomorrow. Last weekend was the Georgetown to Idaho Spring Half Marathon. How was it, you ask? Pretty shitty, I answer. I can hardly even bear to write this... but.... I was 10 minutes slower than the last time I ran this race.  Did you hear that?  Ten. God. Damn. Minutes. SLOWER. That's an ETERNITY in running terms.  I actually burst into tears when I fi-nal-ly crossed the finish line (near dusk, I swear).  My mom thought I was hurt as I proceeded to melt into my own self-loathing about my inability to run fast and pathetic, ridiculous time. I'll spare you the gory details but imagine more self-loathing, self-bashing, and whining.... blah, blah, blah. Then I hobbled with my family to the Morrison Inn, sucked down a Corona (maybe two) and went home to sleep it off.  I was disgusted with myself.  And that's a really, really fun way to end a race, let me tell ya.... NOT. 

And then I set about re-focusing.  (A good long talk with my parents helped--always does.)

Here's what I know now:

*The last time I ran the marathon was in 2003.  Let's review my life in 2003.  I was in my 20s. I was single (I met my husband during the last few weeks of my training... running was easy-peasy then).  I was not in grad school.  I had a tiny apartment (easy for cleaning).  I ate mostly Cheerios (easy for shopping).  I was 'just' teaching--which is not to say that teaching is easy but in 2003 I was in my groove... I knew what I was doing... I didn't need to work a lot of extra hours. In other words, my life was about the race.  Total.  Focus. I was also in my 20's--did I mention that?

*It is now 2010.  Let's review my life now.  I am married (and enjoy spending time with my hubby).  I am in grad school (SERIOUS grad school).  I have a condo that needs upkeep.  I like to eat actual MEALS.  I am in a new job where my title is changing daily and I am suddenly embarking on weekly travel all over the country to conduct training for educators.  My life is about my job. And my husband. And school. AND the race. Oh, yeah, and I'm not in my 20s anymore.

And so...

*I've thrown out my time goal.  It has taken me three months to do this.  See, I'm a bit of a competitor. Seriously. I was adamant about beating my time in Chicago in 2003 until last Sunday.  Now I know that that goal is really ridiculous.  Why?  Well, A) New York is a different course.  Chicago is know for it's flat, fast course.  New York is known for it's bridges.  B) I am seven years older than I was the last time. That's significant.  Hurumph. Crappy, but significant nonetheless.  C) My life (and let's face it, my lifestyle) is just not conducive to marathon training for a time goal right now.  Running to finish?  Yes.  Running to finish fast?  Not so much.  I still enjoy wine and patios and occasional Irish Nachos with those that I love. D) Who really cares about my time besides me?  No. One.

And so...

I've decided that the longer I take to finish, the more I'll get for my race registration fee (my dad taught me to always get my money's worth).  I'm going to soak in the people, stop obsessing over my watch, and revel in the fact that I'm running a marathon.  In New York Frickin' City.  With my parents and my husband cheering me on. No matter how long it takes. 26.2 miles is 26.2 miles no matter how you slice it (or run it). 

And that--in and of itself--is awesome.  

And now I'm off to bed.  It's 8:18pm on Friday night.  I've got a date with the Highline Canal trail tomorrow.  For 17 long miles.  I could be out there awhile. And that's just fine by me...

Ahhhh... I'm exhaling. 

Update

So I'm up to 403.09 miles for the 2010 year and am up to 12 miles for my long run.  That sort of blows my mind.  That's pretty close to a half-marathon for a training run.  And yet so far away from a full marathon.  I've got four months of training to go... Just keep running, just keep running... 

I had class all weekend (yes, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday) at DU from 9:00-4:00 which meant that I needed to get my long run in either before class or after class and since the heat absolutely destroys me, I opted for option 1.  Today I was up at 4:15am and at Wash Park starting my run at 4:45am.  Yes, it was dark. No, it wasn't crowded.  Yes, it was nice and cool, the sunrise was glorious, and I was damn proud of myself for actually getting up and getting it done.  12 frickin' miles. Check. Then I went home, showered up, and headed to class. I had a full day before 9:00am. (All the while my darling husband slept soundly... ahhh... so envious....) 

I'm also getting in three runs of about 4-6 miles each during the week (up at 5:00am) and working to rotate between biking, pilates, and yoga on the alternate days.  

I expect the pounds to start falling off any day now.  Seriously... any day now... that'd be fantastic.  

Anyway... all is well in Tina's running world... see you on the trails! 

Boston. Enough Said.

So I thought that Denver was a 'runner's town.'  While that's still true, I must say that I've found another 'runner's town.'  I arrived in Boston this afternoon.  I'm staying at the Hyatt in Cambridge along the Chrales River and oh my God, the runners are endless!!  It's incredible!  I arrived to a temperature of 90 degrees with an insane percentage of humidity (I'm melting!) and the runners lined the trail along the river like they do at Wash Park back home in Denver.  It looked like a damn race!  I love it!  This is the home of the Boston Marathon, after all... guess I should have known.  And so I'm setting my alarm for 6:00am (that's 4:00am Denver time, mind you) to join 'em tomorrow and to settle my nerves before my presentation to the New Leaders for New Schools group.  Good night!

Blah.

Some days are better than others... 

On this morning's run I spent the entire 40 minutes alternating between the following two thoughts: "This sucks" and "Damn, it's humid today. I hate humidity."  My legs weighed 25 pounds (each) and there was no air coming into my lungs.  It sucked.  It was humid.  Have I mentioned how much I hate humidity?

I believe they (the pros) call these days 'junk miles.' When you feel sluggish and crabby and you come home thinking that running is too hard and signing up for a marathon (let alone BLOGGING about) is just plain dumb...  Those, my friends, are junk miles.  J-u-n-k. And today was one of those days. 

And so I chalked them up to 3.5 more miles on my way past Park City and moved on.

The good news is that I've downloaded two new songs to my iPod (thank you girls) and am looking forward to a better day tomorrow and running in a new city on Wednesday (hello, Boston!).  I only have time for junk once a week.