March 31, 2018
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| Feeling lopsided like my bib! |
The beginning of 2018 (2 weeks worth anyway) is good to me~a new P.R~ it only took seven years to beat...but then things go downhill. Sometimes life just does not go as planned. I recover from the flu bug and pull it together enough to get a double done in Florida and South Carolina in February. Unfortunately though, I bring home an unwelcome guest, a not so friendly tick. I find the bite on the drive home as my leg is radiating pain and later discover the dead body. Who knew a tiny little creature can wreck havoc on such a big creature such as myself. Rash, fever, sweating, joint pain, shooting leg pain and extreme fatigue...no not more endless couch time! One night~with too much whining coming from my side of the bed~my husband demands to take me to the emergency room! "No No No!!...that is for really sick and injured people." Basically he is saying...let's go or pipe down. I elect to do my suffering in silence (sort of, but not really!) I promise to call the doctor in the morning, but feeling better elect not to go and just hope it will pass. I take six days off completely. My poor husband...No running is not a good thing for the household. He even has to go grocery shopping for me and brings home ice cream and candy!! Okay, Okay...not his fault I actually requested it!!
With a 10K race that I volunteered to pace upcoming, I push myself out the door for a few miles. Each mile intensifies a new pain I have never had before on my right front side and I end up walking home. It is so painful to the point I have trouble walking and getting up and down. Everything hurts!! I can't decide if it is a muscular thing or stress fracture type pain. I land back on the couch for some more rest...plan B my husband will pace for me. I have momentum, but not the good kind!! I am so bad at being good!!
Once I fall off the wagon it is a long trip down the bad food isle. I am still trying to figure out why I let myself self-destruct. The worst part of all the down time is what it does to my mental state. I sit way too much and ingest way too many calories erasing all my weight loss progress! I try one more run before the race and still feel pain. I have never stressed so much about being able to run six miles in my life, but pull it together enough to get the run done. Race day garners the magically healing power of running by injecting a huge dose of much needed endorphins. It is fun to set the pace and talk and encourage other runners. The race gives me a much needed boost and it is a turning point to finally feeling better. The remainder of February squeaks by as March steam rolls along with my ever increasing stomach rolls.
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| 16 year old boy finishes a marathon strong and with a smile! |
Luckily, pacing the Modesto Marathon is another uplifting running experience that motivates me to get it together. I don't care if I let myself down, but the fear of failing and missing my pace time forces me to get my butt in gear and there is a lot of it to get in gear. The only thing better than running a marathon is pacing a marathon. It is a great opportunity to witness grit and determination up close and personal when runners place their trust in me. Even when I hit my pace times, I am never satisfied with my performance. Once the runner high wears off, I assess and reflect on how to improve, but the predominant feeling is gratitude. I am so grateful for the ability to run and for the opportunity~such a blessing~to pace and share the experience with other runners. The only bad part about running a marathon is the need to recover and take some time to let the body rest...it feels like that is the only thing I have done so far in the first three months of the year. Begrudgingly another week off from running is the necessary evil with four down and at least eight more~registered and paid for~marathons to go!!
I hope to still be standing by the end of the year. A few days before we are set to leave, I feel a cold coming on and wake up with a sore throat and fever. Oh great not again, another fun trip to get through...so much for running my best. My husband says, "You will be fine...you always manage to pull through!" Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it is still not fun running ill! I cancel my last run and take an extra rest day. My husband does the driving and we stay the night before an early flight out of San Francisco. It is too hard to get up in the middle of the night and drive especially while under the weather. Maybe we are getting some common sense in our golden years! It is nice to arrive at 2:30 pm. Night flights are not all they are cracked up to be. We have plenty of time to check in, take our time at the expo, and have a nice dinner. Well nice dinner in theory anyway. A rating of 4.3 stars doesn't mean it will necessarily be good. We try a pizza place
with the worst pizza crust ever!! It tasted like a soda cracker bread type crust~very hard and crunchy stale tasting~Not good! I hate to be negative, but it is disappointing. My proclamation after the second bite~stop eating pizza~in the last nine states... Well, maybe only in New York and Chicago or until another pizza craving hits. I have to remind myself its about running marathons not finding the perfect pizza! My husband is now officially designated as the Meal Selector! The town has a cool vibe with lots of new development and a cute downtown area. There are bikes to rent and ride around. Lots of round-a-bouts that eliminate the need for traffic signals which my husband insists makes the traffic flow much better. I find them somewhat confusing and scary, but my impatient self likes not waiting at signals.
The art district has a number of life like statues. Runners are treated to two trips through the downtown area for mile 12 and 25. The marathon location, Carmel, is thirty minutes from the Indianapolis airport making it an easy day. After we speed through the expo and dinner, we stop for some water and crash at the hotel. I go right back into rest mode, my only
activity the past three days. My husband looks at his shirt and realizes it says half marathon. Who runs a marathon and wears a half marathon shirt. He dashes back to the expo to exchange it... As he gets back in the car, it is still a half shirt. Back he goes apparently they have been giving out half shirts to the full marathoners. Eventually he comes back with the correct shirt and that's the extent of the day's excitement. We are couch potato marathoners...yes that is a thing. Although I am resting a ton, sleep is still a challenge. The 8 am start and easy parking is a blessing in preparation for another cold day of running. We stuff warm clothes in the drop bag, but upon seeing a huge line at bag drop my husband runs the bags back to the car before finding a spot in the corral. Ready or not...it's time to run. If I can get through today's
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| Not all there mentally today...bib on upside down! |
run it leaves nine more states. I can't believe the journey is close to becoming a reality. My expectations are realistic today meaning...I have no idea how it is going to go. Advil has been my friend the last few days and while it is not good to take while running, I take some to get rid of a pounding headache. Cold air has me shivering in the corral, but my head is better and it is not nearly as cold as Baton Rouge. I am shooting for anything under four hours, but will settle for crossing the finish line upright. I start out running near the 3:55 pacer as my body goes into run mode and I feel pretty good all things considered. The start is congested as we wiggle out of the corrals and through the first few miles. I am playing it by ear in terms of my race strategy. After mile three I lock in with the 3:45 pacer. He has a pretty large group and I draft behind several runners for a few miles. The race is advertised as flat and fast, but it is not flat just for the record. It is rolling hills with gradual climbs and descents the entire way. It is a new course and the route is a good one, but in no way, shape, or form FLAT! Every time the elevation increases, "I grumble under my breath, "This is not flat!" Maybe, Indiana's definition of flat is different from the Central Valley where it truly is flat. Nonetheless, my gloves come off within a few miles and I wonder if my jacket needs to come off.
Another runner tells me she is second guessing her clothing choice too. She is a local with thirty marathons under her belt, but it is her first Carmel. We talk about the weather forecast. She tells me it has been a tough winter with lots of snow. In fact, last weekend's snow is still plied up in spots with more to come on Easter Sunday. Rain is a possibility as the clouds roll in making the temperature drop evident. Now I am very glad I have my jacket on after all. As I hit the next mile I am in front of the pacer group, but my mile time is slowing. I decide to press down on the accelerator. I match stride with a group of four runners until the next hill, residents have named the "Swiss Alps." At the top homeowner hand out Swiss chocolates to any takers. The run is an enjoyable mix of residential and trail running with runners near me the entire way. The route is a figure eight and as we reach the end of the first loop we run the last mile with the half marathoners. We essentially run the last mile twice. It is no fun the first time as we watch all the half marathoners run across the finish line as we start the second loop of the figure eight. When pacing sometimes I tell runners the marathon breaks down into four quarters with mile 1 to 13 being the first quarter and 13 to 20 being the second quarter. My "game" is going fairly well for the first quarter and fairly well until about mile 17. I locked in with the four runners from earlier with the steady pace when they catch up to me just after mile 13 and others do too! We all run as a pack for several miles, but my energy starts to wane and I fall back. Soon the 3:45 pacer will pass me. Once he catches me, he only has one lady left in the pack. I manage to stay with him for a mile, but can't hang on. I maintain an average pace of 8:30 until mile 20 or my version of a half time. The third quarter (miles 20-23) is a struggle. My 2nd place ranking slips through my fingers and my resolve to place in my age group is gone...along with the prize of a coveted coffee mug!
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| That finish could not come soon enough! |
Now, the goal is to finish under four hours. The marathon shuffle begins at mile 20 and the final three miles "the fourth quarter" is a true test. I keep moving and push through the remaining torturous miles. I walk for about ten seconds before the mile 24 marker, but I am unwilling to let myself walk anymore and grind it out to the finish. I have a GU in my pouch and do not bother to ingest it.~It is smart to take the last GU why don't I use it! Just get to the mile 25 marker then it will be familiar territory I will know exactly what to expect. The wind picks up adding an extra element to fight through as we run into the wind on the final uphill to the finish. Knowing exactly what to expect makes it slightly easier, but not really...
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| 3:53 and happy to be done!! |
With little wind in the first loop, we run into a headwind in the final miles. I watch in defeat as runner after runner pass me. I slip to 5th 6th 7th 8th and finally end up 9th in my age group. I run that last mile with no cares. All I want is to finish under four. Later looking at the results, I kick myself for resigning so easily. My fight to finish strong vanishes somewhere during the last six miles. When the tank is empty little can be done to turn it around. I run the last six miles at a ten minute per mile pace. I am thankful for another finish, even if, in the back of my mind, I think I could have done better. With a short time to pull it together before my next run...I hope to run with better resolve! In the meantime my husband does a great job as the official "Meal Selector" choosing "Bru Burger" with delicious burgers and beer!!
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| The man who decides where to eat from now on... |
On our way back to the airport we check out the State Capitol.
...and stroll along the Canal and stop at the UUS Indianapolis Memorial
On race morning we find parking close to the start line...it is the best thing about small town races. We stay in the car until just before the race starts. It is colder than Louisiana mainly because of the wind. After the Star Spangled Banner, I squeeze into the middle of a sea of runners trying to absorb body heat and spot the four hour pacer stick as the race starts. The girls leading the group discuss how they are ahead of pace and it is a struggle for me to keep up after three miles, my calf pain is in charge today. When I am forced to slow down on a downhill section the group slowly disappears. A turn straight into the wind along with the sharp shooting pain in my calf is deflating my spirit.
Runner after runner pass me up. I look to see if my husband is behind me. I may have to walk or even stop. I decide to work on one mile at a time. I chant...the mile I am on focusing on just getting through that mile. I struggle along for four challenging miles until we make another turn at mile 7 heading into a trail section. A reprieve from the wind and the pain in my calf loosens up feeling more like a sore muscle. As my pace quickens visions of catching the four hour pacer dance in my head. I am making progress in catching up to many of the people that passed me as I struggled along. It is funny how quickly the tides can change. It is amazing how the mind works.
