As I sit here very late at night with news reports breaking in that our government may be shutting down tomorrow, I figured I would make a state of the union analysis of my marathon training.
Week 12 of marathon training. I'm not dead yet. But, I may be close. I'm certainly on life support.
I was moving along ok. Nothing spectacular. No speed records. No feeling like I'm a badass runner. Just getting in the miles. Check. Check. Check. Went on some group training runs to keep me accountable. Met up with running friends to get my inspiration and my runs in. Did some cartwheels.
Fast forward to today. The last two weeks have been rough. I have only run TWICE in the last 18 days. Yikes.
Cliff notes version: On my 15 mile long run 18 days ago I started suffering severe foot pain. Could barely walk or stand for the next few days. Gradually got a little better, but still quite painful. Plantar fasciitis. Oh Goody.
So, next came my half marathon. I should have never started this at all because the pain was so bad. But, I'm a bit stubborn, so started with the intent of going 1-2.5 miles. I made it 6 miles before I gave myself the hook at the mile 6 medical tent. What followed was a few days of more horrible pain. Lots of foot rolling. Weird duct tape measures because I was too impatient to wait for the "miracle" sock I ordered to arrive.
Oddly enough.... my MacGyver'd leg did help. My foot quickly felt better. Great? No. But, no longer excruciating. 6 days after I DNF'd. my half marathon I planned to try to get in a long marathon group training run. I had low expectations. But, at the same time I planned to try for the 12-13 that was on the agenda that day (cut back week, thank God!). Low expectations but yet pushing myself to the max. Yeah, not the smartest tool in the shed. Made it through about 9 feeling pain, but managing. My hobble was pretty bad. But, I was moving. After that point, I hit a major wall. Mentally and physically. 2 weeks of no running other than my DNF caught up to me. I was beat. My foot hurt. A lot. I was in the woods, alone, thinking I was lost. I doubted I could get those last three miles. I wanted it to be over. I wanted everything to be over.
I reflected a lot about how I used to run fast and fierce, for me anyway. When I would get out on a trail and just run. Then run faster. Push myself further. 9:15 - 9:30 pace on 5.5 mile runs. Consistently. I miss those runs. I miss that person. I miss that runner. I mourn that runner. Sometimes I really hate the runner I am now. That sounds so awful. But, it's true.
I yelled at myself quite a bit. Seriously. I was PISSED. That I once again had gotten this far and my body was once again failing me. That I wanted to give up on myself even though I've wanted this all so badly. That so many others CAN do this. CAN get through the marathon training. CAN get up in the morning and run when I just can't and get it done. I'm in sincere awe of all my friends who train for and run marathons. You people are truly amazing. I mean that. What you endure mentally and physically to get this done is downright badass. Truth.
It's just not in me. I mean it's in me. But, way deep down inside me. And, it's screaming.
I'm just not sure if it's screaming for somebody to give me chest compressions.....or, pull the plug.
Apparently, my marathon training begins this week. So, my friend tells me at least.
It's not like I didn't know it was coming. However, I was kind of hoping it was a bit further off. Sure I've been "kind of" running. Nothing serious. Nothing planned. Just a run here or there. To keep moving. To keep my feet going. Forward. It's not been easy. But, I've been trying to run free. Relaxed. No pressure.
I guess I've been avoiding actually focusing on this upcoming training. I guess I'm scared. Duh. No shit. It's me we are talking about. We all know by now I'm a marathon scardy cat. We know my history: Signed up and trained for two Chicago Marathons only to break 3/4 of the way through and never made it to the start line. Epic cheerleader instead. Always the bridesmaid. With a damn ugly dress.
So, yes, I try a third time. Sadly, I turned in my Chicago dream for a smaller race. It's in my hometown. It's on my running trails and paths. I could literally stop and use my bathroom along the race course (and may depending how well my stomach behaves!). I won't have a million of people cheering me along like Chicago. In fact there certainly will be long stretches of NOBODY cheering. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.
I need the support. I value the support. I couldn't run a single mile without thinking about somebody in my life who supports my silly running journey. Whether it's the co-worker who got me started a few years ago, or my daily texting buds who lift me up in not only running, but also life, or my little running cheerleaders who no matter what seem to always be in my corner. Those cheerleaders send me words of encouragement at the most opportune moments. It's like they know. They all matter to me. Every last one. Hell, if I'm going to climb Mt. Everest I'm going to need some sherpas. Thankfully, I've got the very best.
It's funny, people come and go. Friends change over time. Some of my biggest supporters while training for the last two marathons are long gone. So strange to think people who were so very important to me at a much needed time no longer exist in my life. Kind of makes me a bit sad. Some have sped off to faster pastures, leaving me in their trail dust. That's ok. I may not be speedy. But, I'm on my own little journey. Slow and steady.
However, a few have been along for the entire ride. (Park's closed, moose outside should have told you) I am so very grateful to them. They will never know how very grateful. Truth.
I have no clue what I'm doing. Seriously. So, I grab the super novice training plan. I take a deep breath. I do it the best that I can with my crazy work schedule. I change up the days a bit. I run my long runs mid week if I have to. I run outside at 11 pm. Oh dear Lord I'll get up once or twice at the crack of dawn and get my bitchy self through some run before work. I skip a short run from time to time because, well, just because. Because of life. Because I want to have fun instead. Because my brain needs a break. Just ....because.
But, I will give it my best. I will try. I will certainly cry. I will puke. I will feel overwhelmed. I will freak out that I'm about to break. But, through it all it will be that little text. That random message. The stranger running by me telling me I'm looking great on my run. My niece telling me that she's proud of me. Perhaps someone will actually come cheer me on race day. Or run with me when I want to quit. It all. Matters. Every little bit.
91 miles of swimming for 11 minutes of racing. It seems rather easy. It wasn't.
Back with my Tridiot teammates to kick some ass at Esprit de She triathlon. Last year was our first try at this. We were clueless. This year we were back to be better. This time I trained.
I've been swimming since January. As in I actually had a coach. Someone who for some unknown reason wanted to help me. He provided me workouts, answered all my dumb questions, put up with my whining, was a smartass, and most importantly encouraged me when I felt overwhelmed. With workouts. With life. He was the first to tell me to ditch a workout and go on a date instead. I felt as if I was quitting. He made me feel that it was necessary to be happy and live my life and not be a slave to workouts that may have been weighing me down. He was right.
I had some pretty high yardage months. I was feeling really good. Pretty strong. It felt good to feel so great in the water. Back at my swimming roots. Then as we moved closer to the tri date I started picking up running again. Coach was VERY insistent that I stay off the feet for a few months to REALLY heal after my multiple broken situations. It felt great to be back on the run. It felt great to be out of the pool a bit more. Be on the running paths a bit more. I was starting to feel a bit burned out with the pool. Tired of feeling like I was dragging myself to the pool each time. It was nice to be outside. Running.
I was feeling ready for this race. Well, up until a few days before when I saw a cool weather forecast predicted and learned that the water temp would be on the cool side. Then learning on the race Facebook page that most people were planning on wearing wet suits? Ugh. I felt immediately defeated. I didn't have a wet suit. I wasn't about to go out and buy one either. For those who don't know not only does a wet suit provide warmth, it helps with buoyancy. Therefore, less energy is needed to stay afloat. Thus making it easier to swim.
I freaked a bit and asked Coach what I should do. His reply was for me to stfu and just swim faster than everyone else. It was a short race. I had no experience swimming in a wet suit. If I had one it would probably be a hindrance to me. Arrrrrighty then.
Race morning Sara (bike) and I got there around 5:30 am. She dropped me off and went to get her energy drink at a nearby store. I set up our transition and then sat by myself. Sara eventually arrived, then took off again to change. Lisa (run) arrived but had to still pick up her packet and the race bib she needed to run. She did so and texted me that she was on her way back to transition. However, at this point I needed to be in the water for warm ups. So, I hit the water on my own.
It was cold. No doubt about it. But, I just dove in and got that shock over with asap. I felt good once I started moving. I swam about 400 yards (half the swim course) and got out. As I exited the water I almost fell. I felt dizzy and off balance. Wtf. I have no idea why. I don't know if it was the cold or something else. But, it freaked me out a bit.
When I exited the water Lisa was waiting for me. We walked back up to transition so Lisa could put on her bib and I could drop off my clothes and towel. Within a minute we were being kicked out of transition as it was closing for race start. So, Lisa and I hustled back over the the start so I could get in my wave (#3) which would start 8 minutes after the Elites took off to start the race.
Just as I was about to get in my wave my sister, my niece (Ironkid) and my nephew ran over to hug me and wish me good luck. It was nice to see them. Ironkid gave me some huge words of encouragement and lots of hugs and kisses. It was fun to have the tables turned.
I got up front in my wave and waited for race start. Everyone around me was in wet suits. Ugh. That kind of freaked me out. Oh, well. It was what it was.
The Elites took off. Wave #2 was the cancer survivors. There was a woman in her 30's in this wave who was standing right in front me me. As she moved up to start I saw that she was shaking and crying. I asked if she was ok. She said, "I don't think I can do this." I told her that she had been through things MUCH harder than this. That she most definitely could do this. I gave her a hug and wished her luck. She put all my silly nerves in perspective. It was just a race. Just a race. What is there to be scared of?
Our relay wave moved into the water.... countdown to our start. I somehow caught my family in the crowd and shared a wave and a smile. That made me relax. All of a sudden I was diving in going out full force. As fast I could.
Coach had sent me a pretty inspirational email two nights before the race. He basically told me to go all out and leave nothing on the table. He knew I wanted to win the relay portion of the swim. He told me that if I wanted to win I had to give everything I had. Leave nothing behind. So, I did as he said.
However, I lost steam early. I think the cold knocked the breath out of me at first. I faded. I almost felt like giving up. But, then I remembered that Coach told me that it was only 10 minutes of giving everything I had. 10 friggin minutes. I could suck it up for that, right? I turned around the first buoy and was able to see two pink relay caps in front of me about 10 yards ahead. Damn it. I wasn't in first. I was third. I felt a bit defeated by this at first. Disappointed. But, then I told myself to not give up just because it was likely I wouldn't win. I could still be better than last year. I could still kick ass.
Once I told myself this I relaxed a bit and got a strong steady pace going. It was still hard. I was still struggling. But, I kept moving.
For those who don't know, open water swimming is hard. Really hard. You cannot see in front of you. You cannot see where you are going. You easily can swim zig zag all over the place. You swim into people. People swim into you. You get kicked. You get clawed. It's a free for all. This year I had an easier time swimming through people. Not sure if I had a better strategy by swimming around them or what. But, I felt like I made it through the maze of swimmers in front of me better this time.
All of a sudden I was on the last switchback. Dug in and gave it all I had left. Soon I could see the bottom of the water. I was able to stand up. And run. Out of the water. Into the sand. Up the hill. Through the entire parking lot. To our transition spot. It was pretty exciting to see all the race teams there. Waiting for their swimmers. I was the third one in. Just behind the leaders. All the teams were cheering me in. It was pretty cool. I quickly passed off our chip to Sara and she was off on the bike.
I was SO relieved to be done. I was exhausted. But, I was happy. I had no clue what my time was. but, I did know I was third. And, I was ok with that. My family was waiting just out of transition for me to put on clothes and then I joined them to catch up to cheer Sara on the bike. Ironkid ran up to me and gave me a HUGE hug. Told me she was proud of me. Told me I did great. She was all excited to give me the play by play of my race. It made me smile.
We caught up to see Sara come by on loop one and we all screamed at her as she rode by.
Then back to transition to find Lisa who was awaiting Sara on the bike. Lisa was nervous waiting there by herself. She had been sizing up the competition of the other relay runners. I told her to just run her own race. Go kick ass. Sara came in looking very strong. SO strong.
Last year Sara was deep into chemo treatments and her body was weak. Even though she did great last year she really pushed her body. This time she looked strong. And happy. As soon as she came in I ripped the timing chip off her ankle and put it onto Lisa's ankle. Slapped her ass and told her to RUN!
Sara and I then headed to the finish to wait for Lisa. We watched other teams finish. Then we saw Lisa's pony tail in the distance. Sara and I flanked each side of the finish chute, grabbed hands with Lisa. Once again, the Tridiots crossed the finish hand in hand.
I'm so proud of my team. Everyone did so awesome. We each Monday morning quarterbacked our legs. Silly girls. Everyone did fantastic. We were one minute faster than last year. We finished 8/52 relay teams. Fantastic.
No, I didn't win the swim like I wanted to. I finished third once again. However, I swam 30 seconds faster than last year (.5 mile, 11:13, 22:26 pace). With a bit more result stalking I also learned that of the 1281 that swam (Elite, relay, and individual) I finished 37th. Not too bad if I say so myself. Only two of those people ahead of me were older than me. Most were MUCH younger than me. That made me feel good.
Post race my team, Ironkid and I hit the SWAG area. We had such a blast grabbing all the free shit. Free manicures?
Uh, YES PLEASE! Omg... best post race SWAG ever. Getting hand massages and our nails done. All we needed was booze. We danced a bit to the DJ. We got silly. We got free plants. Food. We smiled. We talked to other inspirational women who did the entire triathlon. We had fun. We will do it again.
The sign Ironkid made for me post race. My heart melted.
I'm happy with my effort. But, I will be better next year.
I have to give a huge shout out to my Coach. I cannot even begin to thank you for helping me prepare for this race. I have no idea why you did it. But, I thank you. Very much. Damn, it just got awfully dusty in here....
A few weeks off serious training. Then I somehow have to figure out a marathon training program. Hope I don't break. Once again. Pfffft... yeah, we all know how this will end.
Every since I started running a few years ago I have struggled with calling myself a runner. I have always felt so unworthy of that title. I do not run fast. I do not run far. I shuffle along. I break. I try again.
I can call myself a swimmer. I started swimming at around age 5. It was easy for me. I was at home in the water. It's effortless for me. I don't suck at it.
I cannot say the same for running. It's hard. Really hard for me. I suck at it.
However, as soon as I started running, I noticed something right away. The people around me. Not literally around me, as I ran alone. But, the running community. They were, well, different. Different in a good way.
They were welcoming. Encouraging. Friendly. Not to mention funny. Inappropriate. Weird. Most importantly they were accepting of little ole me. The swimmer suddenly out of the water, struggling to stand on her feet instead of her mermaid fins.
It's because of these people that I finally went to watch my first Chicago Marathon in 2010. This was before I was the Do Epic Shit chick. I was just another spectator amongst the million plus cheering the runners on. Immediately I was in awe. Immediately I felt a connect with these people. I wanted to BE these people. I wanted to BE a runner. I wanted to run a marathon.
It was thrilling to watch this race. We watched at several spots along the course, ending at the finish line. It was such a thrill to cheer in complete strangers as they ran that final 100 feet into the finish. Amazing.
I had tears in my eyes for people I didn't know. I was so happy for them.
Suddenly, an older gentlemen started to weave a bit as he came running toward the finish. Then he collapsed. We gasped. He crawled on his hands and knees a bit and got back up. We cheered. He ran a few steps and collapsed again. We gasped again. He was SO close. He HAD to finish! Then, one woman ran by him, stopped, turned back and went to pick him up. She stopped HER race to help him. She grabbed him under the arm and carried him those final feet to the finish. Together. Because that's what runners do. That's who runners are.
Watching what happened yesterday in Boston I was reminded of all this. About the spectators. How they are so important to the runners. How they stand and cheer and encourage total strangers. How they help every racer get to that finish line. How runners support each other just as much. How they will sacrifice themselves to help another runner. It's what they do. It's who they are.
Yesterday as I was united in grief, support and love with my running friends I finally realized that yes, I, too am a runner.
I may not run crazy miles. I may not be super speedy. But, I run.
I. Am. A. Runner.
They are my people. They are my tribe. YOU are my people. YOU are my tribe.
I will always be a swimmer, because that's what I was born to do. However, I've worked pretty damn hard to become a runner. I aint giving that one up.
4018 days since I stayed up all night with him. My sister asleep on the floor. My mother asleep beside him. Me, sitting next to him. Watching him breath. Watching him struggle to breath. Shooting him up with morphine each time I felt like he was struggling too much. Too much for him to bear. Too much for me to bear watching.
I sat there and watched him die. If you have never seen this happen, it's a hard experience to describe. Of course I was horribly sad. But, at the same time I was at peace with it. I wanted him out of his suffering.
He had a tumor cut out of his brain. Yet, he got back up kicking. Only a few weeks later he walked my sister down the aisle. We didn't think he'd be alive to be there, and, if so, certainly not walk. You want to see me cry streams of tears? Standing at the alter watching my dad walk my sister down the aisle? Forgeddaboudit.
The cancer just wouldn't give up. Along with his brain, it strangled his lungs. It ravaged his body. Then, it took his leg. But, my dad NEVER gave up. Ever. Even that last night he was fighting.
I don't think it was until I whispered in his ear late that night that it was ok to go that he actually let go.
Those were perhaps the hardest words I've ever spoken. But, probably the words most filled with love I've ever spoken as well.
4018 days since I held his hand as he took his last breath.
Oops, I did it again. Yes, I signed up for a marathon again.
I saw that. Yes, you. I saw your eye roll. Trust me, mine is better than yours.
Every day on my way to work I drive by my running path/trails. All along the river, then along the lake, a good healthy 7 miles or so. At my old job I also drove alongside the other path/trails I use as well. I could see miles into the prairie, always looking for a bobbing head in the distance. If I was injured I would usually get a twinge of jealousy, a bit of anger. However, this morning on my way to work I saw a bobbing head along the river and smiled. With hope. For me.
Yesterday I signed up for my third marathon. Two years in a row of DNS at Chicago Marathon due to injury. Apparently I think it's a brilliant idea to try again. However, this time it's not Chicago. Oh, I'd love it to be Chicago. But, I think Chicago is too big for me. Not too big of a race. Not too many people. Too big of pressure. I wanted it so badly that I pushed my body too hard. A body not meant to run cannot be pushed to run more than it can sooner than it should. But, I ignore that. Because I wanted it. My mind broke on me. My body most certainly broke on me. Chicago is amazing. If you have run it you know. If you haven't spectated it, you must. It's an unforgettable experience.
Then Naperville Marathon came along. Wait, what?!?! A marathon in my hometown? Are you kidding me? How can I NOT do this? I HAD to do this. I was so excited about this. Then, a few days ago they announced they were charging $150 for the full marathon. Um, excuse me? W.... T..... F ?!?!? Needless to say there was a bit of an uproar throughout social media. I may, or may not, have had a word or two for them. Thankfully, the race directors responded quickly and properly and dropped the fee $45 (ultimately $55 with a coupon). Ok, then.... I'm back in.
I woke up at 4 am yesterday. I couldn't sleep. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I was excited to register? I don't know. But, shortly after 6 a.m. there I was trying to register. Unfortunately, so was everyone else. The server was overloaded. Finally 45 minutes later I was in.
Crap. What did I just do?
I'll tell you what I did. I tried again. I am trying again. I'm not giving in yet. I can't. How could I NOT run this marathon? How could I not try THIS marathon? It will be taking place on MY trails and paths. In my backyard. Literally. The paths and trails I bike and ride all the time. I know these things forwards and backwards. This is where I found myself. This is where I lost myself. This is where I ran fierce. This is where I broke. This is where I cried many a tear. Sometimes in pain. Other times in absolute joy after hitting a running milestone. A new distance PR. A new pace PR. A comeback from injury.
Along the paths, while I always run alone, I was and am never alone. There was always someone with me. I can remember countless runs where some friend was texting me along the way. Telling me I was kicking ass and to keep on keeping on. Telling me to get out of the thunderstorm into safety. Telling me to get the fuck off the ground and stop crying and start running. Telling me it was going to be ok. Again. That I would be ok. Again.
So, I try again. I will not throw myself into this just yet. Geez, I am not even running now. Imagine that, I'm not even running and I sign up for a marathon. Huh, I'm really stoopid. Like you didn't know that already. I will continue my swimming. Work toward my goal of kicking ass in my June triathlon relay. Let Coach tell me when I can start back with the run. It will be baby steps. It will not be much. It will not be far. It will get me to the start of training healthy, not injured. Something I haven't done before. It will be as he promised. I hope. God, I hope. I need to still get over the speed thing. I need to let that go. I will not be doing sub 9:00 pace on anything ever again. I'll be lucky if I'm doing sub 11:00's. That's a hard thing to swallow. But, I have to if I want to get to the start line in one piece.
Another reason I had to do THIS marathon is the people. It's always about the people. But, this one will be special. Hopefully, my family will finally show up. They better. It's only steps away for them. Hopefully, many friends will as well. Even better is how many friends signed up for this race yesterday. They got on the train quick too. The race sold out in 12 hours. Wow.
My best friend from grade school is doing the half. I ran my very first half marathon (my running debut) at Rock n Roll Chicago with her four years ago. We had not seen each other in many many years and reconnected over running (and wine). My long time swim teammate and fellow coach is also in on the half. My high school sophomore dance date is in for the full. Apparently, he's a kick ass runner these days and will certainly BQ once again at this race. We recently reconnected and I can't wait to see him again. My former running partner and now co-manager at work is in for the half. In fact as I saw the slots filling up quickly yesterday I made her sign up over lunch to secure her spot. Several of my Daily Mile local running buds are in as well, including my Daily Mile bestie. I'm expecting him to run an ultra that day -finish his marathon in kick ass time and then come back and drag my ass over the finish line somehow. It's what any good friend would do after all. Amirite? ;)
I will have low expectations for you. This way you will not fail me.
I won't have huge hopes of what you have waiting for me. I will just go along with each day. And, perhaps. one of these days......
I will run. It will not be fast. It will not be far. But, I will run.
I will swim. I will swim more than I have since I was a teen. I WILL swim fast. I WILL swim far.
I will do that SheRox Triathlon relay once again. This time we will be ready. We will kick ass. Perhaps, this time we will win.
I will swim The Big Shoulders 5K. My first real open water swim. Should be interesting.
I will perhaps work toward an 11 minute headstand. Or not. Conquering that 10 minute goal on New Year's Eve was pretty awesome. It also was very, very hard. However, if I'm a bit more consistent at doing it, than perhaps I may have the strength to go further. However, if I don't, that's ok. I hit my goal, a pretty lofty one in my opinion.
I will continue to support my friends in their training. In their lives.
I will be there for those friends fighting with health issues that try to knock them down, as they continue to keep getting up. I will give them a hand up if necessary. But, no matter what, they WILL get up. I will have it no other way. No. Other. Way.
I will also keep helping my self up, should I get knocked down (we know I will). I perhaps may, this year, allow others to help me up from time to time.
I will visit some of my running friends. I have some thoughts in mind. It was be fun.
One thing I have decided I will not do... is sign up for the Chicago Marathon. It pains me so. And, makes me incredibly sad. But, my body just can't and won't allow me. Being injured once again after this latest 10 mile run proves to me once again that I cannot push a body that keeps pushing back. Unless I drop another 60 pounds I don't think I can keep putting such pressure on myself to do something that my body refuses to do. As much as I want it mentally, it just won't be.
Does this mean I won't ever run a marathon? I don't know. Maybe one of these days. I want Chicago. This is the one I want. But, I just cannot commit within the small time frame before it will sell out. Perhaps I'll run well and pain free and somehow train for a marathon by accident? Huh, wouldn't that be funny. Well, well, then perhaps I'll do a smaller one instead. One that will allow me to sign up closer to the race date. (and, I know which one my local friends will be nudging me towards)
I will run the F^ing Freezing Half in three weeks (foot willing). I will run the half marathon race of the inaugural marathon in my hometown in November. I have to. It will be on all the running paths/trails I run on during training. I hope some of my running friends will join me. That would be nice to do the full, but again, it will sell out before I can commit.
I will go to two weddings of running friends. I'm excited to be in attendance for both of these weddings for two pretty amazing people.
I will try to stay healthy. I will hopefully be happy.
For you, I wish you all a year filled with peace, love, happiness, good health.... and no injuries. I thank you for making me smile. For lifting me up. For making me giggle. For being my friend. I'm lucky to have you in my life.
I reflected a lot about how I used to run fast and fierce, for me anyway. When I would get out on a trail and just run. Then run faster. Push myself further. 9:15 - 9:30 pace on 5.5 mile runs. Consistently. I miss those runs. I miss that person. I miss that runner. I mourn that runner. Sometimes I really hate the runner I am now. That sounds so awful. But, it's true. 
