You didn't really think my previous post would be my only one about the Marine Corps Marathon, did you? After I'd been preparing for that damn race close to five months?! Oh ye, of little faith. Let's break this bad boy down in several parts. Before I begin, here's a photo of me, my friend Hallie, Michelle, and David at lunch the day before the race. Looking clean and sparkly and rested. Pre-race: I was supposed to meet Jeanne, Rich, and David at 7 am near the race start. So I laid out my clothes and and tucked my post-race clothing in a clear plastic bag the night before. I got up in time (5:30 am) to take a shower, eat breakfast, and take care of last-minute stuff. But somehow, I still got out the door 15 minutes late. Sigh. That 15 minutes was compounded when I got to the Metro station just as a train pulled out - I had to wait another 12 minutes for the next one. Which was packed with other runners. I chatted with a man from Massachussetts and a woman from North Carolina, both of whom were in the second wave of runners (8:40 am), and looked relaxed. Me? Jittery and anxious. Arriving, it took me forever to move through the crush of excited runners and sign-toting supporters. Once out of the station, I started running towards Charity Village, where I was supposed to meet the RBF'ers and drop off my bag (Jeanne ran for a charity, and said I could leave my gear bag there). 7:49 am: Several men called out as I ran, "Show off! The race hasn't started yet!" We started laughing, although my anxiety ratcheted up a notch when a steady stream of runners walked past me the other way to the race start. Damn. Tried calling Jeanne but no answer. After dropping off my bag, I jogged the 1/4-mile to the race start. I had already missed the opening ceremonies. My stomach growled. Hungry again. (Though I had eaten buttermilk waffles, eggs and coffee for breakfast.) Grabbed a snack-size power bar from sponsor tent, and gulped it down as the national anthem played. Totally missed the RBF meet-up. I am a loser.Moving on: Got to my runner corral (7th out of 32). Lots of skinny, intense people here. Looked for the 3:50 pace group. Saw it waaaay ahead. Huh. Never mind. I would catch it soon enough. Someone tapped me on my shoulder - a friend, L., from my local running club. Relief washed over me. We chatted a bit. It was her first marathon. We also talked to Bill, a genial 60-year old from New Jersey. He's done over 35 marathons. We agreed to pace each other.Start delayed: The gun was supposed to go off at 8:25 am, but got delayed by about 10 minutes. A murmer went through the crowd that it was for a medical emergency. There's a story in today's Washington Post about a man who collapsed from heart attack and almost died at the race start. But I don't know if that was the cause for the delay.Mile 1, 10:28: Cannons blasted. We cheered. We crossed the start line after several minutes in a slow shuffle. Bill and I chatted, and within a half-mile, we lost Lauren. Lots of male runners stepped out of the race here to pee by the side of the road. Better now than later, I guess.Mile 2, 8:04: "Slow down!" said Bill several times in between labored breaths. I was worried to have such a slow start, so I punched up the pace. Plus the 3:50 pace group was still way ahead of me. I looked at the crowds yelling encouragement. I felt elated. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I saw the hill ahead. "Here we go," I thought, resisting the urge to yell: "Charge!"(Stay tuned .....)
I laughed, I cried, I sweated like a tattooed stevedore.
It's 6:18 a.m. on the day after the Marine Corps Marathon. My calves feel like rocks and my left ankle's a bit dodgy. But the soreness is worth it. I PR'ed: 3:56:54. Not quite the gold standard of 3:50. But closer to my silver goal of 3:55 than my bronze of 3:59:59.
I cut 19 minutes off my previous marathon time of 4:15 and change, at the inaugural hilly and hellacious National Marathon, where I didn't have the best experience.
A Turtle with the Hares: I was on the MCM club team for my local running club. All that meant was that my name was put on a list. Of the team's three members, I was the slowest, by about 20 minutes (!). I was also the slowest when compared to the the club's male masters marathon team members. Although I was in striking range - within a minute or two - of at least one of them.
I'll Take What I Can Get: However, I still did okay. I placed in the top 10% of female finishers as well as in the top 10% of age-division finishers, and in the top 18% of the 20,855 runners who completed the marathon. More than 32,000 runners started the race.
I was on track to reach 3:53 when I crashed into the wall around Mile 21, over the seemingly-endless (though only 2+ mile) 14th Street Bridge. My hamstrings felt like tightened violin strings that were about to snap, and my quads spasmed every once in a while.
But you know what? It wasn't nearly half as bad as my first marathon, when I fell in Mile 1 and gashed my right knee, which swelled like a grapefruit for the rest of the race.
Here are two apres-MCM photos. The first is of me and Richie holding our medals. Richie knocked off close to 10 minutes from his previous marathon time. Congratulations, Rich! I know it wasn't quite what you wanted, but you improved a great deal. Next time? Sub-4!
The second photo is of me, Richie, and David. David was on track to a great marathon time, when his knee told him otherwise in the later miles. But what's important is that he finished and was otherwise happy and healthy.
Gaining Perspective: There is a very sobering and sad story in today's Washington Post about a runner who died just before Mile 17 of the race yesterday. He was 56-year old Earl Seyford from the D.C. suburbs. My thoughts go to him and his family. More on this later.
Giving Thanks: And I have to give a big shout-out and thank you, thank you, thank you, to P. and A. P jumped in with me at Mile 4 and ran with me until Mile 14. A. jumped in at Mile 10 or so, and ran with me until almost Mile 21. A huge help. You have no idea.
More thoughts and a blow-by-blow account of my adventures at MCM later tonight.
Holy cow, how'd it get to be 12:20 am on Saturday?! I should be in bed. It's the wee hours of the day before MCM, after all. But just wanted to upload some pix of the RBF meetup at Zola in downtown DC earlier tonight, a cold, rainy Friday evening.The first photo is of the whole crew, both MCM runners and friends. From left to right: David, Rich, David, Jeanne, Bex, Hallie, and Peter. The second is of David and Jeanne showing us their pearlies. The third is a photo of the RBF folks, and the fourth is of David and me. I just noticed that David is in all four of the photos. What a ham! :-)Susie and David drove through DC traffic from Fredericksburg (1 1/2 hours) to be there, and both David T. and Rich missed their flights (from Florida and Texas, respectively) this morning, but managed to arrive in our nation's capital in time to break bread and sup wine.I loved seeing everyone. More on the MCM expo and the dinner when the sun comes up.
It's T minus 47 hours until the start of the Marine Corps Marathon. And it hurts when I run.Muscles in left hip, buttock, and quad are sore and stiff. They don't hurt when I walk. Except when I'm going upstairs. Which is hard to avoid in my house, which has two flights of stairs. When I run, the sore (pulled?) muscles compromise and shorten my stride, making me swivel my torso to the right, and probably further causing me injury.I started hurting about a week and a half ago. I ran a couple of fast runs here and there on cambered trails, and the uneven terrain probably helped to cause the injury. Oh, and I also have a cold. My nose is leaking like a sieve and my throat's sore. Sigh.But on the bright side, I can still run. I'm not crippled. I just may have to rethink my goal time. Also - I'm going to dinner tonight in downtown DC with David, Jeanne, Susie, Richie, and several other friends at an RBF meet-up. Look forward to seeing you guys!
It's been awhile, people. Haven't blogged, read any blogs, or even thought about blogs for the past week and a half. Too busy with work and travel. And because I'm making a concerted effort to spend more time in real life than in "second life."
But I have been running. Oh yes, I have. I was in Southern California from the late evening of Wednesday, Oct. 11, through Sunday, Oct. 15. For play. As you can see from the photos.
Went to a high school football game at my alma mater, took my grandmother to lunch and shopping, and went to Sea World to check out the dolphins and killer whales without having to navigate through seas of hyperactive preternaturally obese 6-year olds like I would have had to do in the summer. The horses in the photo are the Anheuser-Bush Clydesdales. The beer company has a cafe/beer tasting room at the amusement park. Huge animals. Didn't get too close lest I get stepped on.
But I digress. I ran 13 miles in the rain on Saturday, Oct. 14, in my hometown. Starting from my old high school, I ran a half-mile east on old Route 66, then straight up hill for three miles along a dirt bridle path towards the San Gabriel Mountains. Ran right by my old house (wherein live my mother and, more recently, my grandmere), then south, cutting west to trot by my old elementary school, south and west again to my junior high, then south, ending at the high school.
Talk about taking a stroll on memory lane.
A couple of days before that, I ran a quick 8-miler in San Diego's Mission Bay. As dusk descended, E. and I ran towards Sea World, the bay to our right and parkland and a couple of high-end hotels on our left. Doubling back, I did some fartleks, running past other runners, including one 20-something 6-ft tall man, who did not like that a 5'2" woman flew by him.
I said "hello" as I ran past, which he ignored. I heard him pick up his pace to try to catch me. When that didn't work, he started taking shortcuts, veering off the trail and cutting through parking lots and jumping bushes to overtake me. How juvenile.
Of course, I thought it was amusing, and just ran faster, keeping ahead of him. I stopped after another 2 miles, because I had totally lost E. by that point. The trail-cutter made sure I noticed that he ran past me by almost knocking me over. 'Course, it was dark. Maybe he just didn't see me. Yeah, right.
After waiting for a minute or two, I started running again. Trail-cutter was ahead by almost a quarter-mile. I picked up speed and just as I caught up to him, he put on the brakes, and started stretching.
"Good run!" I said as I continued past. He ignored me and tried to touch his toes, instead.
It Ain't Over Yet: Last long slow run. Well, it was supposed to be slow. This morning I ran a very brisk 10-miler with my friends J., and P. E. also came along for the first 3 miles. We ran on the hilly Mt. Vernon trail, the scene of the 20-mile race I did last month.
The plan was to run 9:00/miles for first six miles, then quickening to marathon pace, or 8:45/mile, in the last few miles.
Well. The first mile was 8:10. P. set the pace. Damn him. "You're hauling ass!" I heard J., an ex-Marine, mutter behind us. The second and third miles were around 8:45-8:50/mile, and the rest were way below that. Final time: 1:23.
I did a speed workout tonight, after several weeks of slacking off on these tough but essential runs. The plan: 4-5 X 1000 at 5K pace with 400 jog recovery. The pace: 7:24-7:30/mile.
In minute 2 of repetition 1, my creaky body woke up and said, "Hello! This hurts."
"Shut up and run," I replied.
Repetition 2 wasn't as painful, surprisingly. Or was it my body just getting used to the strain on my lungs and muscles?
I grimly hung on in Repetition 3.
Repetition 4: "This is the last one," I thought. No 5th rep. Conveniently, I was already 15 minutes late in getting home. Sucking air and with my form faltering slightly, I finished.
It wasn't pretty. But hopefully, it'll help me gain some speed at MCM. Over and out.
No running today. Blissful. Even though it was a gorgeous, Indian summer day, I didn't feel the need to hit the trails.The Oil of Olay must be working: Work has been a slog lately. All I can say about it here. Had a quick burger and lemon drop martini after work to wait out the traffic and finally read the day's paper. And the English barkeep asked for my ID. That makes it the third time in as many months that I've been carded.He apologized when he saw my age on my license. "No problem," I said, meaning it. I mean, after all, in my mid- 30's, I am wading in the shallow waters of middle age. Not old yet. But no longer a bright young thing. But I'm glad to be mistaken for one, now and again.Speaking of age: Did anyone else see this story in last week's New York Times about the mind-body connection to health? Interesting stuff. I hope to be running when I'm in my 70's too.
I cheered on runners (two of whom are my friends) in the Army 10-Miler this morning. I didn't catch them on camera (too fast!). But here are two photos to give you a taste of the race, which was held on a picture-perfect, crisp fall day in our nation's capital. The first is of runners just after the 5-mile mark. Among them were many military vets and active personnel, some with one arm or wearing a prosthesis on one leg. The second is of members of an Army pep band, which played loud and tight renditions of songs such as "Eye of the Tiger."
Last Loooong Run: I logged my third and last 20-mile training run for MCM yesterday. I finally made it to my Saturday long training run group. Except they started without me.I arrived at 8 am on the dot on a cold, windy and rainy morning. I saw a group of 30 people a half-mile ahead and pulling away fast. They left early! I strapped on my fuel belt and started hustling. I caught up to the back of the pack within a mile, and the middle of the pack within two miles. The first half of the pack was way ahead - mostly 20- and 30-something male runners running 6:30-8:00/mile pace. Speedy for a long run. The route, again, was uber-hilly, starting with an almost mile-long climb in Mile 2. Nobody talked much, and I recognized only one or two people. Also, not everybody ran the full 20 miles.So I ran all 20 (actually, 20.35 miles - it was a bit long) pretty much by myself. Sigh. I don't know why I even bothered to meet the group. At Mile 9.5, it started raining steadily. Breathing heavily, I stopped for a few minutes and despondently chewed a Gu. I was in the outer DC suburbs, and not a soul was to be seen.I ran the last half faster. Time to go home. I pulled down my cap low over my eyes and willed my tired legs to keep churning. I waved thanks when motorists stopped for me as I sprinted across rain-slicked streets. One 20-something in a truck rolled down his window and yelled encouragement. I gave him a thumbs-up as I ran past.Total time, including a few rest stops: 3:16.
When I got out of bed yesterday morning, I felt creaky and sore. My hams and quads felt tight. My lower back hurt. In fact, my whole body hurt. But I had 16 miles to run. Grumbling, I got up, ate breakfast, stretched ... then procrastinated. I walked the dog. I read the Sunday paper. I took a long, hot shower. Finally at 10:15 a.m., I hit the road. To say that I wasn't looking forward to running is the understatement of the year. Little dark thunderclouds hung over my head. What am I doing this for?! After almost 3/4 of a mile, I noticed that my Garmin wasn't working. #$*!@&%!! It took almost 10 minutes of fiddling to fix it. I decided to start over. Then I set off again, in an even blacker mood. Somewhere around Mile 3, I decided that I had to run at least 6 of the 16 miles at marathon pace (8:45/mile) if I was going to perform half-way decently at the MCM. I already hurt. What's a little more pain?The stats:Mile 1: 9:18Mile 2: 9:44Mile 3: 9:34Mile 4: 9:19Mile 5: 9:28Mile 6: 8:43 (Here we go!)
Mile 7: 8:33Mile 8.3: 7:52 (Not sure what happened to the mile markers from here on out.)
Mile 9.3: 8:40Mile 10.3: 8:33Mile 11.3: 8:18Mile 12.3: 8:45Mile 13.3: 8:38Mile 14.3: 8:48Mile 15.3: 8:24Mile 16: 8:15Yeaaaahh, baby! I ended the run feeling great and in a much happier mood. Final time: 2:22:13. Total average pace: 8:49/mile, though the pace from Miles 6-16 averaged around 8:25/mile.How did I run much faster than I did in the the 20-mile race last Sunday? I finally realized that no matter what, running a marathon hurts, and pacing yourself slowly too slowly just prolongs the pain. My body can do the race. My mind is finally starting to follow.Now if I can only figure out how to drink Gatorade and eat Gu without stopping, I will be golden.
