grandma's marathon

there was only one goal in my mind during the race last saturday: claudin and i had to finish together.

in all our years of running, one of us had always made it to the line ahead of the other (she'd hand it to me in the shorter races where speed trumps endurance, but then i'd get her in the longer distances where strength beats leg turnover). we've never finished side-by-side before and have always dreamt of crossing the line holding hands, so that end result was my entire motivation. in my mind, there was no.other.way. but with six miles to go, it didn't seem like i was going to get my way.

first, let's go back to the beginning, when everything was going to plan and it was like running in a dream.

a dense fog had consumed lake superior and the scenic highway that ran alongside it's shore that morning. the locals continually apologized for the weather and sure, it would've been nice to see the "great lake", but cool temps and mist? it's a marathon runner's dream. like with most dreams though, my memory of the race is bizarre and probably makes more sense in my head.

so.

i remember standing at the line, straining to see the course, which seemed to dissappear into nothing only 50 feet ahead. there was an excited buzz in the air as we waited for the start, but as soon as the air horn sounded, everything hushed into a loud silence of muffled footsteps and heavy breaths. usually, the beginning of a marathon passes by in a blur, but because of the visibility, it was more like everything oddly emerged in and out of a mist. there was a duck-dog along the side of the road near mile two; a mocha moose around mile three; yellow balloons hanging solemnly in the air at every mile; and a train that slowly chugged parallel to our route with passengers cheering from it's windows. the fog swallowed everything up so fast you wondered whether or not what you saw actually existed - we were in one of dali's fantasy worlds where time vanished and the non rational prevailed.

claudin and i were running quietly in stride through the surrealistic landscape when a voice from behind brought me back to consciousness. it was jen bigham, member of volée, the elite racing team for oiselle and she had spotted me because i was decked out, head-to-toe, in their apparel. hashtag, fangirl.

ANYWAY. the three of us made fast friends and instant racing buddies, forming a flock {oiselle means bird, en francais} that was on a mission to break 2 hours, 50minutes. for almost 15 miles, we flew down the asphalt road together, gliding along the coast and soaring in and out of clouds. we steadily clicked off mile after mile at a 6:30 average and took turns sharing the pacing duties. there was casual chit-chat at first, but once we got past the halfway point, the vibe became more serious and we all got quiet, focusing on our efforts.

i took an energy gel at mile 8, sips of water at every aid station, and another gel at mile 15 - pretty standard fueling for me - but around mile 17, my stomach started to feel a bit off. i tried to distract my mind with positive thoughts and mantras, like this one my high school coach gave me days before the race: "be comfortable being uncomfortable". but when "uncomfortable" became "unbearable", i began desperately looking for a suitable pit stop. then, as we approached mile 19, i saw it in the distance with a light from the heavens cutting through the fog and shining down on it: a port o' john. "i'm going to pull off here, claudi. i'll catch up" i said, without really thinking.

it was only after my group charged onward and the door slam shut behind me that i realized there'd be a lot more that a few seconds i'd have to make up. i kept the watch running, but didn't have to check it to know how far back i'd fallen. by the time i was back on the road, the group was so far ahead that the fog had eaten them up. i was a minute behind and all alone. in a mater of seconds i went through all the emotional stages: panic, despair, frustration, and ultimately, determination. i resolved to stay calm and gradually work my way back.

over the next mile i eased back into pace and kept my eyes ahead, but with six miles remaining, there wasn't much time to make up ground so i had to push. slowly, people came back into view and i could see some runners who were falling off their paces. i stared at their backs, always giving myself a mile to catch them, but doing it in shorter time than that. one by one, i ran them down, flying past both men and women, surprised at how easily they let me by. i didn't care about time anymore, i just wanted to make it back to claudin so that we could finish the damn race holding hands!

finally, with three miles to go, i saw her. she had broken away from our entire group (which at one point had amassed to a flock of five women and a couple of dudes). she looked strong and was also moving past fading runners. there was a tremendous sense of urgency coursing throughout my body as we entered downtown duluth and i questioned whether i'd be able to reach her before she crossed the line. i kept taking advances one runner at a time though and with each one seemed to be gaining momentum.     

with about a mile remaining we crossed a bridge that took us into the harbor area, i powered down the last hill hoping to cover some major ground, but for all my efforts i only seemed to be inching closer - the gap was getting harder to close. luckily all those inches did add up though and as we entered the file 800 meters i was right on her heels. CLAUDIN! i yelled. i wanted to let her know i was there so she wouldn't take off in her final sprint without me but she was just as spent as i was. relieved that i had done it - that i had caught up and that the race was almost over, i was all smiles. we finished stride for stride and ran down the straight-away holding hands.

for the record:

+ not only did i look super fly in my oiselle kit, but the gear is comfortable - no sport bra of shorts-band chafing whatsoever!
+ it takes ONE MINUTE, at least, to get in and out of a port o' john during a race.
+ claudin ran a two minute pr in her second marathon ever - either this girl is on fire or her coach is awesome, but it's most likely a bit of both.
+ finishing a race hand in hand is a lot trickier than it seems and definitely not as glamorous as you'd imagine {the awkward proof is in the finishing photos}.
+ ice cream sundaes taste sweeter after 26.2 miles and no one judges the second you eat when you tell them you ran a marathon that morning.

off to the races

 

remember when i mentioned my first solo trip without august? well, that time has come and today i leave for my annual vacation with claudin: one whole week without children, sleeping in, urban-hiking, photo-journaling, coffee-shop-vulturing, and general pampering. but first, we're running a marathon. i know! {i kind of feel like i've been holding out too.}

the marathon isn't exactly something you just decide to jump in and do one day. i mean you do, but then it takes months of training. and even though i haven't mentioned it on here, i've actually been running a lot in preparation. when i think about it, it's kind of odd that i haven't written about my training. aside from family and work, it's what fills up my day. but i guess running was always such a huge part of my identity and defined me for so long, that i've almost over-compensated by not writing about it at all. when i started this site, it was to get away from whatever stigmas are attached to runners and explore the other sides of me. i was SO set against this site being pegged as a running blog but instead, i've written mostly about family, which has sort of put me in the mommy-blog category, so hey! sometimes even when you try not to be placed in a hole, you end up doing it anyway.

there's entirely way too much that's gone into the last four months of training to get into it now, but things have been going well and you can expect a full report after the race. until then, send speedy thoughts our way on saturday morning at around 10:00 EST {we should be about mid-way around then}

this all feels a bit self-indulgent when i think of a week away from the little guy. *eye roll* here we go again with baby-talk and mama-guilt. but with all the new "tricks" he's learning it's getting harder it is for me to let him out of my sight. even dropping at daycare has been tough a few times when i worried that'd he'd take his first steps without me being there to see them.

when i heard august peep this morning, i jumped out of bed anxious to get to him before andy. i opened the door to this room and saw the familiar sight of him standing in his crib, careening his little head to see who it was. under puffy eyes, a smile broke as he said hiiiiiiiii and i swept him up for a "biiig hug". and I do not know WHY, but this very normal start to our day had me fighting back tears.

ok. i do know why.  it's because everything will be fine and he is going to have a blast while i'm gone.
the older he gets, the less he needs me and i saw that as i watched him and andy pull out the driveway. he was sitting content in his car seat and, after prattling off a couple of words through the closed window, he went back to playing will a ball and cup, like it was no big deal. as they drove off and i stood there waving, my heartstrings tugged inside me. at that moment, i was so grateful that that silly little blondie was ever even mine at all. still, i choked up walking back up to the house, quietly wishing that he will feel safe and be happy while i'm gone.

but andy knows august just as well as i do: he knows his routines and needs, his discomforts and the songs to sing them away. also, they are on their way to grandma and grandpa's house. those two love august as if he were there very own, so he will be plenty loved and cared for. i'm excited to hear how much fun he's going to have and all of my mom blubbering aside, i really am so excited to be able to take this vacation with claudin!

remembering boston

{photo}

for the past four years, i've rushed into work on patriot's day, excited to get to my desk so i could stream the boston marthon live on my computer. even before i ever ran my first 26.2, i felt a connection to the race, not only as an endurance runner but as the daughter of multiple time boston qualifier. it's is THE event in US marathoning and whether or not you've done the race yourself, i think most people can appreciate it's history and prestige.

when the bombs went off at the finish on boylston street just before 3pm last year, i had already shut the videostream down, but as the resident running guru at the office, i had people coming to me minutes after the news broke to ask if i had heard. "sure" i answered casually, "a kenyan [rita jeptoo] pretty handily dropped an etheopian [meseret hailu] in the final mile of the women's race, while a kenyan [micha kogo] and two entheopians [gebregziabher gebremariam and lelisa desisa] had an exciting sprint to the finish in the men's race." that was not the report they were asking about.

i heard cryptic bits - people trying piece together what had happened - an explosion at the finish line, people injured, no suspects. was it an act of terrorism? was it an isolated incident? who would do such a thing? my mind spun with thoughts. i was bursting at the seam with pregnancy and so far removed from the running world at that time, yet i felt the weight of the tragedy so presonally. the build up to a marathon is not just physical but emotional. for all those runners, the finish line meant so much more than a time and particpant's medal. how could why would anyone deny a person of acheiving such a innocent and noble pursuit? it's impossible to make sense of such a thing.

a year later, i go out for a run on a rainy april morning and i am grateful. ten months after the birth of my son, i am healthy and able to enjoy a sport that i love. somewhere deep in my soul though, i ache and i feel a heaviness in my legs. it's the weight of those three lives lost and the hundred's more injured. today, i remember them.

next monday, thousands will toe the line for this year's boston marathon and it makes me proud. i am amazed by our country's resiliance and all those brave runners are a symbol of that strength. that's why i loving running so much - it translates into all areas of life and helps us to realize what we are truely capable of. we are pretty incredible, aren't we? the ability of our bodies to heal, our hearts to mend, and our sprits to endure.

the marathon harvest season

the last six months i've been coaching my sister for her first marathon and now she only has four days to go. she's been tapering the last two weeks and has impressed me with her calm but now she's close enough to feel the heat of the fire and she's starting to sweat. i had to calm her down today when all the pent up anxiety started pushing against the fences of her mind.

for the past couple of weekends, thousands have gathered and crossed their respective finish lines. over the several following weekends, thousands more will do the same. if you're in that first group then congrats. it was thrilling, wasn't it? i have no wisdom to impart that you haven't already experienced or figured out. if you're part of the second lot then you too are somewhere in the taper zone and entering that final stage. there's still time to salvage your sanity.

the taper is an essential part of marathon training and there are dozens of theories on how and when to do it. i'm not going to get into it because each person is unique and what worked for me may not work for you. plus, i'm not going to pretend that having run a few marathons makes me some kind of expert - even those who coach or run them for living will admit there's no secret sauce. that's the nature of the beast. what I will offer are some words of advice on the psychology of the taper. and since running a marathon is eighty percent mental, these aren't just pearls, they're precious gems.

as you may have noticed, i like to speak in metaphors - i'm the mr. miyagi of running, dear grasshoppers. i like to paint pictures with my words. but i also like to be allusive. some things are best figured out and i think you're smart. (don't worry, my analogies are not very complex. i'm not that clever.) so allow me to share my very basic farming knowledge because the season is right and well, i love the fall. so yeah, the harvest.

the harvest marks the end of the growing season. soon after the last frost, the land is prepared; tilling the soil and removing weeds. this early phase is tedious but necessary. the ground needs thawing from the sleepy winter and your legs need turning over. it becomes rote at a point and you don't think of it much. like eating or breathing, getting out for a run becomes habitual. once the field is cleared, the land needs enrichment so, the soil is fertilized with various nutrients: hill repeats, tempos runs, fartleks, and speed intervals. the seeds are sown. with time and dutiful irrigation, they begin to germinate and grow.

now let's pretend it's a small tract and we're farming in the 1800's because i'm a romantic at heart and we're doing this by hand. no heavy machinery. so we gather up our tools: sickle, pitchfork, sack, and wide brimmed hat - always a wide brimmed hat (you've got to dress the part) - and march onto the field. at some point, you'll need each of those tools. some of them are sharp, so let's call them weapons. there are demons in those fields and they'll try to scare you away from your task. don't listen. pull out that hand scythe and swipe them away. it's hard labor, you'll get exhausted, you're muscle will burn with fatigue but you need to do it. the yield will nourish you throughout the winter. food for the soul. so you forge on, raking up the crops you have felled. At the end of the day, your sack is full and crates are heaping. no matter how long it took, how efficient you were, or how good you looked doing it, you did it.

and that's how i handle the taper. i recount all the work i put in, inventory my tools, and i visualize my success. you've done all the work. the hay is in the barn. after months of tending to your plot, the crop matured and now the time has finally come to harrow the field. you've prepared the land, you've sharpened your tools, now is the time to reap. if that doesn't have your adrenaline pumping, then we are at odds because i'm not even racing and my stomach just did a flip.

The Marathon

We're approaching marathon season and for those of you who are taking on the challenge of either the full or half this fall, you're probably in the "meat and potatoes" of your training. If you're like I was during this point in the build up, you're probably feeling a bit tired. Maybe your stride resembles the shuffle of an old man? And perhaps that geriatric gait is echoed by a grumpy demeanor? Good. You're training for a marathon and need to get used to the feeling of running tired. You will, after all, be covering 26.2 miles in one day. And spectators will be expecting you to finish, looking dewy and composed while sprinting across the line. So how do you maintain that putative "runner's high" all the way to the illustrious finish line? Therein lies the challenge of marathon training. It is a delicate balance between running more than you ever have and being overtrained. And now is the time when you really need to pay close attention to all the little things because this is when you are most vulnerable to injury or burnout. 

Just to be clear, overtraining is when the volume and intensity of your training exceeds your recovery. Now, most people think of recovery just in terms rest, but that's only one component. What many do not realize is that recovery also involves nutrition, dietary supplements, massage, physical therapy, and maybe even scaling back for a few days. The classic analogy is to compare your body to a car - to ensure that the engine runs smoothly, you need put the best fuel in it. What drives the machine though, is more than just the gas. Now is the time to go in for a check up. Wheels need rotating? Get a new pair of trainers. Fluid needs replacing? Schedule a massage to get the blood circulating and lactic acid build up out of your legs. Alignment needs checking? Visit a chiropractor for an adjustment. All these factors can contribute to your physical performance. If all this sounds a bit excessive or too luxurious for your ambitions, that's OK. I can't afford weekly massages either. Instead, use a foam roller to work out knots in your legs. Or buy a carton of Epsom salts at CVS for five bucks to soak in a couple of nights of the weeks. You can also or swap an easy run day for a restorative series of yoga poses (YouTube has all kinds of blissed-out videos to follow but, my personal favorite is: Yoga with Adriene). And making the drive to a park where you can run on some soft, dirt trails can do wonders for your asphalt-pounded muscles, as well. 

Overtraining can also have effects on non-physical factors of an endurance runner, such as their emotions and behavior. People are funny when they are depleted. We get very primal when our basic needs are neglected; reason and emotional control go out the window and we revert to our childlike selves, fussy and grouchy. If you've been getting called out on your attitude or sass, you may be on the verge of over doing it. Aside from the very real and goal-crushing possibility of getting injured, you could lose motivation, which is almost as bad. So please, for the sake of your loved ones, take care of those ancillary details and remember that your friends and family are innocent supporters. Go easy on them.

Finally, I'll address the psychology of long distance running because, you know, "mind over matter" and what not. See, when your body wants to quit, it's your mind that will keep you going. That means you have between now and race day to convince yourself that you're the bomb.  It's important to trust your capabilities, so if you have any doubts now, start working on that confidence. Entrap each mile logged and every work out done, in your mind and use those thoughts on race day to make you explosive. Then, when the crowd cheers for you, shouting words of encouragement about what a "great job" you're doing and how you should "keep it up", you will believe them. When I was preparing for my first marathon, I read a ton of other people's race recaps. Their stories were inspiring and helped me to stay focused on my goals. Imagery is a powerful thing and if you can envision yourself in an other's success story then, on race day you might make your own. (The key is to read about the positive experiences, so go ahead and click that little 'x' in the corner of that tale depicting a grueling death march.)

All of this is mostly to say I'm thinking about you all and hoping for the best. What else is a post-preggo mama to do but live vicariously through other runners until she's ready for her comeback? I'm no expert and maybe you already know all of this, but next time when I'm in the thick of it, I'll be sure to come back to this post. Just a friendly reminder, is all. Oh, and as my mothers always says, "Don't forget to have fun."

For extra motivation, click on this image to see a video of my finish at the 2011 Twin Cities Marathon. A recap with all the exciting details will be posted soon.

Apples and oranges are still both fruit

A reader recently asked me to address the common comparison between childbirth and running a marathon now that I have done both. Well, off the bat, I can say it's a fair analogy. Both events require preparation, endurance, and optimism. And having been a runner almost all my life, the parallels were instinctual.  So I approached labor the only way I knew how: treating the nine months of pregnancy much as I would a marathon build up. Training for baby is what I called it.

The concept was particularly fitting to a person like me because I am inquisitive and assiduous by nature. I thought that if I educate myself,  "train" mentally and physically, it won't make birth any less painful, but at least, I will have done everything in my power to prepare for it. Like a diligent student, I completed each day's homework and built upon the small, yet incremental growth from the previous trimester. Like any life endeavor, it's a cumulative effort. 

I also appreciate the importance of training the mind in addition to the body. They work so cooperatively together, I'd be remiss to neglect one or the other. I knew then, that it was important to maintain a positive attitude. Like with the marathon, pregnant women encounter so much negativity and fear. Movies only ever show us woman screaming in pain, grabbing their husband's by the collar, reviling, "You did this to me!" in accusation. If we were as pessimistic about marathon running as we are about childbirth, we'd see a lot more DNFs in race results. How can you hope to do a thing if your already doubting its success before you've started?

Now, I'm not saying that trepidation is a sure route to failure. In fact, when I stood at the starting line of my first marathon, I knew it was going to be hard work and that it even might hurt. But that's a lot to bite off before twenty-six-point-two miles. So the best thing to do is just take it one step at a time. Same thing with pregnancy. You can't expect take those nine months in all at once and not be overwhelmed. Instead, you take it one day at a time because what you feel one day may be completely different the next.  

What makes the two ventures equally amazing in this is that because your body is undergoing such a drastic transformation, it communicates to you better than any other time in your life. Senses are heightened. Now whether or not you listen  to what it says is another challenge.

Of course the two are not identical and at a certain point, the analogy breaks. In all honesty though, that didn't happen until the actual moment my baby made his entrance to the world. I'm not going to sugar-coat that one. It was a whole new level of hurt. But you somehow dig deep to go beyond it. And more incredible still, is that you almost immediately forget the pain.

To me, labor was the epitome of running a marathon - every contraction was like a hill that burned on the way up but once crested, I had the other side to recover. And each "hill" brought me one step closer to my goal: my baby boy out of my belly and into my arms. Although I was exhausted and aching when I crossed the finish, it was the sweetest and most thing precious thing.


For those of you that have done both, what are your thoughts? Did having the experience in one help you in achieving the other?