The marathon club.

I've joined it. It's official. I can finally say that I ran a marathon. I'm not sure I can call myself a "marathoner" (yet)...do you have to complete multiple marathons to earn that title?

I'll try to give a consolidated report of the race (so as not to bore anyone to death). I finished the Disney World Marathon on January 10, 2010.

All winter, as I trained in the frigid weather, I hoped and prayed that race day in Florida wouldn't be too hot, so that my body would be able to adjust, and I wouldn't overheat. Well, someone heard my prayer, because I got my wish...and more. I left home when the temperature was about 30 degrees, and arrived in Florida 3+ hours later, when the weather was about...30 degrees!?!?! Now, I know I hadn't wanted it to be too warm, but I was looking forward to at least a little rise in the temperature.

Since Florida was in the middle of one of its longest cold snaps EVER, the Disney marathon organizers anticipated racers wearing lots of extra layers, and made arrangements to donate any clothing shed by the side of the road to Salvation Army, or other similar charities. My original planned outfit had been spandex shorts and a singlet, and, call me selfish, but I couldn't think of any winter running attire I owned that I really wanted to cast off and never see again. A friend of mine was picking up some cheap sweats at Wal-Mart, and offered to grab some for me too, and that seemed like the best solution. I could see myself easily parting with $10 sweats. I ended up deciding on Nike capri tights, my singlet, a tech long-sleeve top, cheap knit gloves, the purple sweatshirt and sweatpants from Wal-Mart, a black ear band, and a cheap white knit hat.

I am so, so grateful that I started out with that many layers, because on January 10, Orlando tied its record low temperature. For me, running in below freezing temps was not that big a deal, because I was used to doing my long runs in similar weather - actually, colder weather. But having to get up at 3 am, be in the starting area shortly after 4 am, and stand in the corrals for over an hour and a half...that, I wasn't used to. Standing relatively still outside for 2+ hours when the temperature is below freezing is not fun.

Nearly everyone (the marathon had over 16,000 finishers) was wearing some sort of makeshift cold gear that morning as we all huddled in huge groups waiting to walk to the start corrals. Some had managed to commandeer mylar blankets from the previous day's half marathon, and wore them like capes, and even tied around their legs. Others wore garbage bags with arm and head holes cut out. I heard people around me saying they'd gone to the local Wal-Mart, and nearly the entire sweats/hats/gloves section had been bought out.

Anyway, I got up at 3 am, and left the hotel on a shuttle around 3:30 - the race started in Epcot. On the bus, I choked down half a banana. In the starting area, the announcer was encouraging runners to go through the bag check and into the waiting area, so after tossing back a handful of dry cereal, I told darling boyfriend I'd made a mistake and wanted to go home. After several minutes of pleading and persuading, he pushed me through the bag check tent, and from there it was too late to back out.

I huddled behind a large group of people for a while, trying to stay out of the wind and feed off of their body heat, without coming off as a creepster (considering that I kept moving each time the group moved, in order to stay behind them and out of the wind, I'm not sure I did very well with the non-creepy factor. Did I mention the group of people all seemed to know one another, and I didn't know any of them?) We finally started the walk to the start corrals a little before 5 am, and moving helped circulate the blood. We waited in the corral for about 30 minutes, and when the national anthem was sung, I reluctantly pulled off the sweatpants and the knit hat. I would have kept the pants on, actually, except that they were too long, and the crotch hung somewhere around my knee area.

At 5:40ish, fireworks were shot off, which was our signal to start. I have never been so glad to start running as I was that day, just because I really wanted to get warm! Though the race was crowded, I didn't have to bob-and-weave much at the start, since the start corrals and waves were arranged by pace, and seemed to be fairly accurate. During the first 1-2 miles, we ran through Epcot and by the infamous ball. It took about that long for my toes to stop feeling like frozen blocks in my sneakers.

I had seen the 4 hour pacer in my start corral, but in the first couple miles I couldn't tell whether I was ahead of or behind him. All I knew was that I couldn't see him. I just plugged along at what felt like a relatively easy pace, reminding myself not to start too fast - everyone warned me that was the easiest mistake to make. Once I got into the groove, the weather actually felt perfect. Certainly not too hot, but not intolerably cold, either, especially when the sun came up. It seemed as though we ran in the dark for a good, long while, and then suddenly, it was sunny. I completely missed the sunrise, but later, darling boyfriend told me it was beautiful coming up over the Epcot ball.

I quickly realized that I felt best if I tucked in behind a small pack of runners and stayed there. I'm not sure if it was because they blocked the wind, or because we could occasionally banter back and forth to take our minds off of things, or maybe just because it was easier to let someone else set the pace. I'd change groups every once in a while if I felt like speeding up or slowing down, but I kept some of the same 10-15 people in my sights most of the way.

Without running with a pace group, I somehow managed to stay very consistent. I have absolutely no idea how, to be honest. The marathon course took us through each of the parks at one point or another, but it went by in such a blur that it's hard to remember the order they went in! All I know is it started and ended in Epcot, Animal Kingdom smelled terrible (at first I thought someone in my general vicinity had farted, and then when it lingered, I thought maybe someone had even soiled themselves, but I later realized we were running near some fertilizer/manure in the park), running through Cinderella's Castle made me feel like a little girl again, and I ran through a tunnel in Hollywood Studios where I could see all the character costumes hanging up (I didn't even realize it was Hollywood Studios until I went back to that park later, took the Backlot Tour, and remembered running through it).

My splits were as follows:

- Mile 5, 44:11

- Mile 10, 1:27:41

- 13.1, 1:54:25

- 20, 2:53:38

- 26.2, 3:48:15

I took a Clif Shot around mile 7, a Honey Stinger around the halfway point, and sport beans a few times after mile 20. I wasn't sure how the fueling would work, since I had always stopped for 2+ minutes to take my fuel during training. But, once I was in the race, I found myself not wanting to stop at all. The water stops were too crowded and "stop-and-go", and I figured out that the best course of action for getting through them unscathed was to run to the end of the line, take one of the last cups offered, and just keep on going. I got my gels out, opened them up, and held them in my hand well before I got to the water stops; then, when I saw the tables up ahead, I sucked them down, grabbed a water, and slowed just a bit to drink it. For good measure, I stopped at the next water stop along the way to make sure the gel digested. Other than taking water with fuel, I probably took water at every two to three water stops. The Clif Shot and Honey Stinger went down well, and did their job well, but the sport beans...let's just say I will never use those again. I don't know if it was the sugar, or the chemicals, or maybe it wasn't the sports beans at all, and it was just the fact that I'd just run 20 miles, but from mile 21 to the finish I was sure I was going to vomit. At one point I even slowed to a jog, thinking I needed to get sick, but luckily it passed.

Somewhere around mile 22, I saw the 3:50 pace group leader just in front of me. I hadn't been trying to catch him, but I decided I'd try to stick with him to the end. Around mile 23.5 though, I got really annoyed with the pacer and the people running near him. Rather than encouraging the racers who were counting on him, the pacer seemed to be concentrating on regaling his pacing partner with his stories of getting drunk the night before...congratulating himself on still being able to get up at 4:30 and "easily" run a 3:50 marathon. I don't know about anyone else, but the last thing I want to hear when I'm struggling, practically dying, trying to run a 3:50, is how someone else can practically do it in their sleep. But I digress...

I felt sick and was ready to be done, but it was mile 24 and we were headed back into Epcot, where I knew the finish line waited. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, as fast as I could. People were lined up on the side of the street chanting "You're almost there, you're almost there!" but this was at mile 25, and another 1.2 miles did not feel like being "almost there." A gentleman running next to me must have agreed, because he suddenly yelled/gasped "Where the HELL is the finish line!?!?!?" which gave me a pretty good giggle.

Then we rounded a corner and saw it! I heard darling boyfriend call my name and I started sprinting for all I was worth (which wasn't much) and though I told myself I would never do it unless I ran some superbly fast time, I raised my hands into the air as I crossed the finish mat in 3:48:15. The announcer had said "First time marathoners raise your hands!" and so I did.

And then it was over. Someone put a mylar blanket around my shoulders, someone else put a Mickey Mouse medal around my neck, and I started wandering aimlessly in the direction of the family reunion tent. A lady pulled me in front of some sort of backdrop, manhandled me until she had a good view of my medal and my number, and snapped my picture. I made my way to the bag check, got my stuff, and found darling boyfriend. I spent the next 30 minutes concentrating on two things: 1.) not throwing up, and 2.) not getting hypothermia.

After the 30 minutes were over, I got a huge rush of adrenaline realizing that I'd actually finished the marathon I'd been so worried about. Considering that my only public goal was to finish, and my only secret goal was to break four hours...I was one damn happy girl that day.

Phew that was long...pictures to follow.

Out with the old, in with the new (year).

It's 2010: A new decade. If you're expecting a post full of resolutions, you are not going to get one. I don't "do" New Year's Resolutions. I never have, and I don't know if I ever will. Call it the pessimist in me, but I don't like coming up with a concrete list of things I "have" to achieve in a year. All that leads to is disappointment.

Instead, I will reveal things I want to do in 2010. If I do them, good. If I don't, oh well. 

First and foremost, I would like to survive my very first marathon IN 10 DAYS! Yes, less than 2 weeks into the new decade, I will attempt my very first 26.2 mile race - in Disney World. My goal is to finish, and not die (I'm not talking figuratively. I'll really be happy if I just make it through alive!) And it'd be nice if Mickey Mouse ran with me for a little while, but I won't get too picky.

Second, I want to compete in a triathlon. The distance doesn't matter to me. I just want to be able to say I actually finished a triathlon.

That's pretty much all I hope for in terms of athletic achievement. I won't bore you all with details of my other "wants", but to sum it up they include good health for me, and for my family and friends (doesn't everyone want this?), winning the lottery or otherwise stumbling into mass amounts of money, and convincing a certain someone that marriage is a good thing. One out of three of those is not shallow - that's good enough, right?

Happy New Year!

Ask (or don't) and you shall receive.

The trick to getting useful gifts around the holidays, without having to bother with a list, is to pick up a hobby. For example, if people know you like to read, they will buy you books, or gift cards to book stores. If people know you like to cook, they will buy you cook books. If people know you like to drink, they will buy you a membership to the beer/wine of the month club, or perhaps a membership to the local branch of AA.

Or, simply let people know that you're into running, and training for a marathon and triathlon, and you'll be inundated with related presents. You won't even have to ask. And you will like it.

Here, a sampling of the things I opened on Christmas morning:

In no particular order, there is a pair of Saucony gloves/mittens (what do you call those things?), an Asics fleece, a pair of 2XU tri shorts, a Frog Light for the bike, biking gloves, a Camelbak water bottle + mount for the bike, Under Armour capri tights, a headlamp, and a Road ID. Not pictured is a pair of Balega socks (they were dirty). 

Points of interest in these products include the fact that the Saucony gloves have a tiny blinking LED light on the palm, the tri shorts have fleece (or for you fancy people "chamois") in the crotch, the headlamp battery case is extremely hard to open, I'm debating wearing the Balega socks during my marathon, and most of these items either are, or contain, the color pink.

And I didn't have to ask for a single one of these gifts. But you bet your sweet butt I can, and will, use them all.

Perhaps my favorite gift related to triathloning is not even gear. It's this sweet mug darling boyfriend stuck in my stocking:

I also got another little "surprise" right around the holidays, but no one had to pay for it or wrap it up (except maybe me, in the future). *WARNING: If you don't like feet, don't continue!*

It's my first EVER black toenail! The picture is a bit blurry, but clearly it's my second toe. It's a kind of gross, but I'm a little proud of it. It's like my own personal initiation into the long-distance running club. I think I'll be OK with it, as long as it doesn't fall off. I don't plan on giving myself a pedicure until after the marathon.

Things I should not have to witness at the gym.

You all know that one of the highlights of gym-going is people-watching. It's what makes the time go by more quickly while you labor away on the treadmill (which is why it's preferable to attend a gym where the treadmills are in the back of the room, like mine). There are things that make you laugh, stories that you file away in the back of your mind to tell your friends later, and then...there are the things that make you cringe.

I have compiled a list of things I've seen (or heard, or smelled) that just...aren't...right.

• A sweaty man running on the treadmill located directly beneath the fan, raising his arms to said fan to air out his armpits, thereby blowing BO-laden wind toward the unsuspecting people on cardio machines behind him;
• An elderly woman walking on the treadmill while absorbed in a novel, titled "Erotic..." something, picturing two scantily clad people on the front;
• Middle-aged women (OK, any-aged, any gender individuals) farting in the middle of a group exercise class, in a warm, crowded room. Repeatedly. Class after class, week after week;
• Spandex on inappropriate bodies. I know this one is controversial, because yes, people should be able to wear whatever they want. But when you are over 50, and you are wearing only tiny Lycra shorts and a sports bra, and you're well-endowed, and you're jogging on the treadmill, you're attracting attention - and not in a good way. It's not that hot in the gym. There are fans. You can wear a tank top, I promise;
• Sex noises during exercise. I'm not just talking about people lifting heavy weights. I'm talking about grunting and moaning during yoga, and spin class. It's unnecessary, and it makes people uncomfortable;
• Denim during a workout. This one doesn't even bother me all that much, because I can ignore it, but how can someone run on the treadmill in jeans? Can you say chafing? Ouch!;
• Women sitting completely naked (no underwear) on the locker room bench. OK, I admit, I haven't seen this one first-hand, because the locker room is such a hotbed of gym violations that I avoid it at all costs, BUT I know it must happen because my gym actually published a newsletter in which it was suggested that women NOT sit on the benches naked...um, duh?

Occasionally, when I am able to tear myself away from staring at the other gym patrons, I start thinking about what other people might be noticing about me. It leads me to wonder if anyone was watching that time that one of my ear buds fell out, dangled down into the wheel well of the recumbant bike as I pedaled, got wound around it, and accidentally yanked the earphone jack out of the machine...

Oh how I love working out indoors...

Yep, I said it. When the temperatures are frigid and the roads and sidewalks are icy, sometimes it's nice to be able to exercise inside. Where it's warm. Where I don't have to wear 5,000 layers that only serve to weigh me down. I hate the cold weather, which is ironic since I live in a place where it's relatively "cold" for five or six months of the year.

I know, most people don't like to run on the treadmill when they could be running outside, because it's boring, or it feels like you're going nowhere (well...you don't just feel like you're going nowhere, you are going nowhere). I tend to agree with those opinions, until the temperature dips below 20 degrees and the winds start blowing, and the last thing I feel motivated to do is go out and run for an hour or more. Which is part of the reason that I ran 14 miles on the treadmill last weekend.

With biking, you start to feel cold when the temperatures dip below 40 or so (at least, that's the case for me). The fact that you're moving pretty fast and creating your own wind (I'm not talking about farting) makes the air feel maybe 10 to 20 degrees cooler than it actually is. Fingertips? What fingertips? Forget about them, can't feel them. The tip of the nose disappears, too. 

And that is why I'm elated to report that I have moved Pink Lightning into her winter home.

 

This is Pink Lightning, on the Ascent Fluid trainer, in my basement. I scored the indoor trainer off of Craigs List back in July or August, anticipating that I'd need it in the future. I did a little bit of reading, and the Ascent Fluid got pretty good reviews, so I bought it from an older woman who was moving to North Carolina and would be able to ride outdoors year-round (lucky lady).

I am proud to announce that I read the directions and assembled this all by myself. It took me a little bit of huffing and heaving, and I had to consult the directions included in the box, and online instructions, but I did it! I then proceeded to to take the trainer for a test ride. I pushed Pink Lightning in front of the television, and pedaled away for 60 minutes, sweating my arse off. It felt much better than losing the feeling in my extremities. Plus, I didn't have to wear layer after layer of clothing. I was in the privacy of my own home, I could have worn a sports bra and undies if I wanted to (I didn't).

Once I was finished with the workout, I simply pushed the bike and trainer out of the way, where it is conveniently stored...in front of our "guest bed" and behind the TV and sitting area. 

Now, I'm not saying training indoors can replace training outdoors in any way, shape, or form. After all, I won't be running a marathon on the treadmill, or competing in an indoor bike race. I am still running outside when I have to - tomorrow, for example, I'll attempt a 20-miler outside while the temperature hovers somewhere in the single digits.

I'm just sayin', I wouldn't mind so much if Santa put a treadmill under the Christmas tree. And maybe next year he can spring for an indoor infinity pool.

I think my body hates me.

For some reason, my body doesn't seem to want to recover from my last long run. It was 18 miles, and it was on Saturday. This is Wednesday. What the hell? Both of my IT bands (iliotibial bands) scream at me when I get out of bed in the morning. For at least a few minutes, because the IT bands go from the hip to under the knee, I walk completely stiff-legged. I look like some sort of idiotic tin soldier parading around. 

Once the bands loosen up and I can start to walk like a normal person, I notice all the other aches and pains. I randomly get "phantom pain" on the outside of my right foot, where my stress fracture was almost a year ago. Apparently these pains (which in my case just feel like dull twinges) are normal, although doctors say they don't know the cause, and I don't understand why they call them "phantom" because that basically means imaginary, and I don't think I'm imagining the sensation.

It's probably not just the long run that's hindering my body's recovery, come to think of it. I also swam on Monday and went to a class at the gym called Total Body Sculpt, which consists of many lunges, squats, various dumbbell exercises, and ab work. The extreme soreness in my right thigh, which causes me to try to put as little weight as possible on it when going down the stairs, could be attributed to the squats and lunges. The intense planks off of the bench are certainly the biggest factor behind the ab soreness that made me gasp when I tried to turn over in bed last night.

People watching me walk (or hobble) around must be wondering what I did to get myself into this condition. I want to tell them I got this way by trying to get in shape, but I doubt they'd believe that attempting to do something healthy made me look like a cripple. Yesterday, when I had to get up out of my rolling office chair, I knew I needed a lot of momentum, so I grabbed the edge of the desk and launched myself with as much force as I could muster, nearly ending up in a coworkers lap on the other side of the room (I think he secretly liked that though). Later in the day, as I was leaving work and going down a small set of two stairs, another officemate asked if I'd hurt my back. When I said, "No, why?" she told me that I'd grimaced as I stepped down. I hadn't even noticed!

I have 4.5 weeks to go till the marathon. I am begging, pleading with my body to hold out until then. And to let me run 14, 20, 12, and 8 miles in the mean time (plus shorter runs of varying distances). To appease my aching muscles, I'm downing hundreds of milligrams of motrin, rolling them with The Stick, stretching, and talking to them in soothing tones.

C'mon body. Don't fail me now!

Why do people think it's OK to...

...make ridiculous comments to me while I'm running?

I don't know if just lacing up my sneakers and hitting the pavement is somehow the same thing as putting a sign around my neck or on my back that says "Please talk to me!" but it seems like people interpret it that way.

I recently had a five minute conversation with a guy who slowed down his pick-up truck to drive alongside me while I ran. I know that sounds incredibly dangerous, but it was broad daylight on a relatively busy street, and there were a lot of people around, so I wasn't terribly concerned. I'm not an idiot. Well, most of the time, anyway. This particular man, who apparently had seen me running down the same street in the past, slowed down to ask if I was training for something. When I told him yes, a marathon, I got to hear a long narrative about how he trained all year for a half marathon, but injured his sciatica and had to bail on it. Plus, his sister ran a marathon through Team in Training. After about a quarter of a mile, I knew practically his entire life story. I was trying to be polite, but I mean, hello, I was also trying to RUN! Eventually he wished me luck and drove on.

Granted, that was the only real "conversation" I've had with a stranger while running, but there have been plenty of shouts and fleeting exchanges. Just today I had two different encounters. I headed out in the morning for a six mile run, and passed by a couple of people paving a driveway down the street. I tried to make myself invisible, but as I went by, one of the men yelled out "Just 3 more miles to go!" I chuckled, and from a distance heard another say "It's only 3 miles from here to my house." Cue lots of macho guffaws. 

Later I was making my way down another side street when a taxi went by. The driver called out "Good job!" and gave me a thumbs-up out the window, a hand signal he kept up until he was out of my sight. 

Now, I appreciate the sentiments of all of these people. Clearly, man number one just wanted a little camaraderie, group number two wanted to let me know I didn't have far to go (even though they were wrong), and I think it's pretty obvious that guy number three wanted to tell me how awesome I was. Thanks guys!

But seriously, I should think it would be obvious that running is not exactly conducive to a conversation or acceptance of praise. I wish people* would realize that. 

* There is one exception I will make, and that is the crazy man who plays the guitar and sometimes sings me songs about how girls aren't supposed to run as I go by. That shit makes me laugh.