Dancing around the weather

Another weird day. I'm ready to rip my hair out over work, and I did not have a Pilates lesson tonight because Kim canceled.

The Group Run was originally supposed to be on Sunday morning, but the forecast is looking extremely grim: thunderstorms, possibly severe. Not the kind of weather I want to run in if I can sidestep it. Coach Paul kindly gave us some alternatives, so I have to hurry up and get to bed so I can get up and drive 35 minutes tomorrow morning to the TNT Summer Team's 7:15 AM Group Run. The start is crazy early, but at least that way I can get the run out of the way and over with. I have only met a few of the Summer Team people before (I am Spring Team) and have never met their coach, Coach Kim. It should be interesting. They are actually doing as much as or even more mileage than the Spring Team--I think Coach Kim said the full marathoners were doing 12 or 14 miles. (I am doing a piddly 8.)

Another good thing about getting the run in tomorrow is that I will have a chance to go by the running store on my way home. I bought new shoes last week to break in and use during the race, but the insole is messed up in one of them, so I can't wear them until I get that fixed.

All right, time to get my clothes laid out and get to bed...

The thinnest of wedges between happy and sad news

What a day. Good stuff, bad stuff, and everything in between.

It was a truly glorious morning, chock-a-block with birdsong and sunshine, blue skies and trees full of the tender yellow-green of new leaves. I might have paid more attention to it if I hadn't had Pilates last night. I was so sore while walking the dogs that I questioned the sanity of running. Eight miles on the schedule, and I could barely shuffle around with the leashes in my hand.

Having missed Tuesday's run, I was not amenable to missing another one, so I filled up my FuelBelt, grabbed some gels, and drove to the trailhead, striking out just before 10:00. It was odd to be doing such a long run all by myself, particularly on the same trail I'd shared during so many buddy runs with Liz, Angela, Lindsey, Kelli, and Amy. It wasn't bad, exactly--I found myself mostly watching the mileage unspool ever so slowly in front of me. "Oh, look, there's the first half-mile marker already. Now we go up this little hill, and down, around this curve, start seeing the railroad cars, and look, here's one mile already! Mile 1 at 11:41..."

Once I got warmed up, I didn't feel too achy. I hit the parking lot where we normally do the first water stop at 30:30, but since I was carrying all of my own water and gels at my waist, it didn't matter. I drank out of one of my bottles and pressed on, hitting Mile 4 and the turnaround in 44 minutes and change.

Things started to go south around Mile 5. My hams and glutes and abductors and adductors all started voicing their displeasure shortly before I hit the parking lot again at 58 minutes and change, so I stopped to walk while I drank some water and kept walking for an extra minute or so. If my husband had been in the parking lot to handle the water stop as he was for the weekend runs, I would have climbed in the car and told him to take me home. But since the car was still 2.7 miles away, I really had no choice but to continue on. I managed to go a little over a mile before I needed to stop and walk again, drinking a bit more water and squeezing the remainder out of the orange gel packet I'd started at mile 4. (Orange is okay, but not as good as raspberry or apple cinnamon.) I went another mile and had the last swallows of water at the half-mile marker before cruising on in, finishing the eight miles in 1:29:25 for an 11:11 pace. And oh, was I sore. Not injured, mind you, just sore.

I met Betsy for lunch at the bakery and was reminded that I have good news to share! My mom's PET scan came back, and of the two areas of cancer she had, one was GONE and the other was "significantly reduced." The doctors seem to think that they can achieve a remission with just a few more cycles of chemo! Yay! I was all excited to come and blog the happy news tonight. I am so happy for my mom and for the fact that treatment, while not fun, has been a lot less brutal than in times past. I hope that she will be able to get back to doing the things she enjoys soon and put lymphoma behind her for as long as possible.

I had planned to put in a few more hours on a work project this afternoon and evening, but at about quarter to six, the phone rang. It was my mother-in-law, Erika, who lives in Europe, so she's six hours ahead, and it was almost midnight there.

She was calling to tell me that her partner, a man she'd been with for twenty years who was for all intents and purposes her husband, died on Monday of intrahepatic bile duct cancer. We knew things didn't look good for him, and we had last heard that he was looking into hospice about ten days ago, but I didn't think it would end so quickly. I had held out hope that I might be able to snag a flight over after the race to say good-bye, but obviously that's not an option now. We were just over there for a visit last fall, so at least we did get to see each other somewhat recently, but now he's gone, and Erika is alone. She says that on some level, she is relieved that his suffering is finally over, because he was absolutely miserable, but she's not looking forward to having to manage everything alone.

Good-bye, Hans. I hope they have plenty of bows and arrows for target shooting wherever you are now.

Looking back, looking ahead W4/W3

Welcome to a truly special edition of Looking Back, Looking Ahead! (And by "truly special" I mean "two days late.")

I am feeling much better today, and I am happy to report that a) Quincy went for a long walk this morning and seemed perky and happy and b) Tika did not attempt to turn herself into a black-and-white roadkill pancake. These are all Very Good Things.

Also, I will soon be the proud owner of my very own blue thera-band! My Pilates teacher said I should measure from the ground to the top of my hand stretched over my head to determine how long a band I needed. (The answer is 6'4" if anyone was wondering.) She said that there were medical supply stores that would cut it to order for you off a big roll. I had to phone around a bit to find one, and then they had just run out of the blue band, but the helpful saleslady said they would be getting more in tomorrow, so I will be taking a short field trip out there tomorrow afternoon. I've been resisting the "get equipment" thing and trying to keep it simple, but the band is very useful for stretching. And we could all use a little more stretching, right?

On to the report card. Here's what I was supposed to do last week:
What was I supposed to do in Week 4? Did I do it?

• Tuesday: 5 miles YES!
• Wednesday: CROSS-TRAIN (I have a private Pilates lesson scheduled--man, am I pumped!) YES!
  
• Thursday: 8 miles YES!
  
• Friday: CROSS-TRAIN NOPE (I think I was sore and didn't want to push it)
  
• Saturday: 10 mile race (EEEEEEEE!!) YES! (I was AWESOME!)
  
• Sunday: 5 miles NOPE (Sore, sore, sore--maybe I should have tried at least 2 or 3 miles to loosen up, but it just didn't happen)
  

I still managed 23 miles in three runs! And as I noted day before yesterday, it's all downhill from here--we are starting to taper back for the race at this point.

What my schedule for Week 3?

• Tuesday: 5 miles
• Wednesday: CROSS-TRAIN
  
• Thursday: 8 miles
  
• Friday: CROSS-TRAIN
  
• Saturday: 8 miles (Group Run)
  
• Sunday: 4 miles

I've already blown Tuesday since I didn't run yesterday. I don't know if I will be up for 8 miles tomorrow or not. I may just do 5 or 6 instead. We'll see.

I hope I didn't leave my half-marathon out there in Edgewater Park on Saturday.

Ever have one of those days?

I haven't slept well or nearly long enough since sometime last week. I am cranky and exhausted and incredibly unproductive. My hip and leg still hurt despite plenty of icing. (Too much time sitting at my desk, I suspect.) My stupid eye is still bothering me. My next few projects for work make me want to gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon. Quincy, my older incredibly good dog, has been refusing exercise, so I took him to the vet yesterday afternoon, where she said, "He's sore" and prescribed painkillers. (He still refused the afternoon walk today.) I am worried about him.

I didn't even manage to do the weekly review post for this blog last night. The plan was to cook a nice dinner and then watch a movie with my husband; the kitchen was still a mess, so instead, we ended up grabbing something out and hurrying home so I could get back to work. I worked until well after 10:00 and went to bed, only to be awakened by said husband at 5:00 AM. Unable to get back to sleep and feeling headache-y, I got up and worked on one of the aforementioned please-just-kill-me-now projects until breakfast time...when I remembered that I forgot to take the trash and recycling out last night. After breakfast, I let the dogs into the backyard and hustled the trash can to the curb. I came back to get the recycling bins, and when I opened the gate to take them down the driveway, Tika (my younger wild-child dog) bolted out the gate and into the street. Ignoring my yelling, she then ran a block up the hill to greet two neighborhood dogs who were walking nicely on leash and not bothering her in any way.

I suppose I should be glad for all the miles I've been running, because I had no trouble sprinting up the hill, hoisting her little black-and-white butt off the ground with a snarl, and toting all 26 naughty pounds of her back home like a sack of potatoes. I was so angry and afraid of what could have happened to her--she just darted into the middle of the road and certainly could have been hit. Thank goodness we live on a quiet side street.

Once I had her back in the fenced backyard, I slammed the gate, dumped her unceremoniously on the ground, crumpled into a patio chair and cried my eyes out.

It's hard to believe I'm the same person who ran such a stellar ten miles on Saturday, because it has been pretty much one giant raspberry since then.

After walking the dogs (Quincy deigned to do a whopping half hour, so I dropped him off and continued on with Tika), I figured a nap would be just the ticket. But there's always something getting in the way--first, a phone message from my neighbor who only calls any more when she wants something: "I forgot my lunch on the dining room table and the dog will eat it. Could you go over there and move it out of her reach? Thanks." So I go over to rescue her lunch, only to see the bag and some empty Tupperware on the floor. Too late.

Just as I come back, the phone rings. One of my main clients. "You know that project you're working on? Well, we've got some other things coming in that we'd like you to take a look at instead...the current project doesn't really have to be back until next week." This is the second (or maybe third) time I've been interrupted while slogging through this long unpleasant thing. Every time I get a little momentum going, I have to stop and put out some more urgent brush fire instead. It's annoying and draining, but whatever. I tell the client to send me whatever he wants me to look at and I will get back to him after lunch.

My head is really hurting at this point. I finally get the phone ringers turned off and even put up a DO NOT DISTURB sign by the back door to fend off a few people who might stop by, darken the room as best as I can on a bright sunny day, and lay down.

I doze fitfully and have a much worse headache when I wake up shortly before noon. This sucks. I pop pills and put an ice bag on my forehead and hope to distract myself by reading The Perfect Mile, a nonfiction book about three guys in the 1950s all trying to be the first to break the four-minute mile. It's a good book and I am enjoying it, but I eventually have to put it down and turn out the lights because my head is hammering.

What really sucks is that I am supposed to go running with the girls tonight. Five miles at a new park I'd love to check out, followed by a cookout at Kelli's house, which sounds great, but there's no way I can run in this condition. Just walking to the computer to type out a quick message to them makes me feel queasy.

And then I grind my fist into my pounding head and try to blank out the universe. Just another red NOPE on the weekly review...

I'm going to bed. This day needs to come to an end as quickly as possible.

It's all downhill from here...

I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but there will be no more double-digit runs before the half-marathon. The mileage only goes down from here!

I did not run 5 miles today because my right hip/quad/ham/adductors are really hurting. I don't want to make things worse and end up with a full-blown injury three weeks before race day. At this point I'd rather over-taper and make sure I get to the starting line in one piece.

I am very tired and was a giant slug all day today. I read two running books on the couch: Duel in the Sun, which was about Albert Salazar and Dick Beardsley matching each other stride for stride until the very end of the 1982 Boston Marathon, and how the race ultimately defined (some might say "nearly destroyed") their lives, and Dummies' Guide to Marathon Training, which I thought was pretty terrible (ergo no link). The only tidbit of interest I got from that book was that a 1:42 finish at a ten-mile race worked out to a 2:15 half-marathon. Interestingly, the McMillan Running Calculator agrees with that assessment, claiming I could finish the half in 2:15:38. Wow, I could actually beat Oprah!

I've had three really good races now (if you include the 5K I ran last fall), but I can't afford to get cocky. I was very, very lucky with the weather all three times. Each race morning, the weather was overcast, temperatures were between 40 and 50 degrees at the gun, there wasn't much wind to contend with, and there was only light rain for part of the race. Those are basically ideal running conditions. My half-marathon could end up being a lot slower if it is hot and humid. Or if it rains hard. Or if, God forbid, there are high winds.

I have three weeks left to eat well, rest well, stretch well, and taper well. And stay away from germy people. I have to take the best possible care of myself and manage everything that is within my ability to control. I can't do anything about race day weather or who gets the room above me at the hotel the night before, but hopefully I can deal with everything else.

Race report: Did I "run like a god"? YES, I DID!

Check out this medal!
I ran like a god--or as close to a running god as I am likely to get--to earn it.

I had a fantastic time today with my Team in Training homies! And I ran 10 miles and got a medal for it! What more could you ask for?

After a 4:45 alarm, I managed to get ready for a 6:00 AM departure, eating my usual pre-race breakfast of two eggs and half a toasted buttered bagel. I packed a toasted peanut-butter-and-banana bagel for later and started shuffling cars around so Liz and Amy would be able to park in my driveway. Although our departure was a bit late, everything worked out fine, and we were on time for our rendezvous with Kelli, the fourth member of our intrepid carpool.

What Charlie's Angels would look like if they were carpooling to a road race together

Liz ably directed me into the city, and we pulled into our parking spot at the race site at 7:15, with oodles of time before our 8:30 race start.

We are ready to rumble! Especially Amy in the middle.

The first order of business was, of course, to find a bathroom. There was a bathhouse on the lakeshore right next to the parking lot, but of course that would have been too easy. It was locked up. We had to hike a long path up the hillside to another building where they were doing packet pickup. There were flush toilets in the building, but only two stalls in the ladies' room. You can imagine how long a line that was! While we were waiting in line, I asked Kelli (who is a doctor) about my eye. She said it looked like blepharitis and recommended warm compresses and wiping the lids with Q-tips. I wonder if my wearing contacts has anything to do with it.

After checking where the start line was (always a good thing to know), we trekked back down the hill and back to the car to remove our extra layers and other things we didn't want to be running the race with. I gave Liz a gel to carry in her pocket, which turned out to be a very good thing, and handed out several salt packets. I wanted to try "doing the salt" at mile 6, which basically means downing the contents of a mini salt packet like you'd get at a fast-food place. Yeah, gross, but it replenishes your electrolytes and really helps you in the last miles of a longer run.

We trudged back up the hill, me munching on my peanut-butter-and-banana bagel and sipping water the whole way up, and then it was time to get in line for the bathroom again--only now there were many, many more people there, so I got in a port-a-potty line.

Just like at the grocery store, the line I got in seemed to be the slowest. The 5K race started at 8:20, and a few people had to leave my line because they weren't going to make it in time. It was 8:22 when I got out of the port-a-potty, and not 30 seconds afterward, the cowbells rang to send the 5K runners on their way.

Because this race had chip timing, the ten-miler runners were very casual about lining up at the start line. It wasn't so much a line as a mob sort of standing around any which way. I used the last few minutes to check my shoes, stretch just a little, and reunite with Liz, Amy, and Kelli, whom I lost track of during my odyssey through the port-a-potty line. I also chatted up two or three other people wearing Team in Training shirts, including two who are running the Cleveland Half whom I had never seen before.

The cowbells rang out once more to start the race, and we were far enough back that we didn't move at all for about 45 seconds. Then we walked for over a minute and finally managed to work up to a jog just before we crossed the start line, with 2:08 already on the clock.

We settled into a groove and ran amiably through the drizzle, hitting mile 1 at a surprisingly swift 10:50. The course took us out of the park and into a beautiful tree-lined residential neighborhood. To my surprise, even in the gray chilly damp, there were people standing and sitting out in front of their houses cheering us runners on. There weren't acres and acres of them, but I'm not used to seeing any spectators at all, so I lapped up the attention. I really appreciated it and tried to smile and thank as many of them as possible.

Two of these people really stood out. The first one was an older lady who had a cowbell and rang it vigorously as we went by. ("More cowbell!" Kelli yelled happily, and everyone around us who got the joke laughed.) The second one was a few hundred yards down the street on the other side, a woman maybe 40 years old, clearly a runner by the way she looked and dressed. She called out a steady stream of encouragement while clapping and pacing back and forth across the tree lawn like a basketball coach at a playoff game: "All right, all right! Looking strong, way to go! Great job, runners!" It was SO COOL.

Somewhere around mile 3, Amy got a fire in her belly and moved off ahead, leaving me and Kelli to eat her dust. I was afraid to try and go with her for fear I'd bonk before the end of the race. I figured I'd catch her later if she'd miscalculated. As it was, Kelli and I hit mile 3 in 31 minutes and change, so we were running pretty fast for that early in the race.

We hit the turnaround a quarter-mile shy of mile 4, so now we were headed back down the other side of the beautiful tree-lined street. I was in such a groove I almost forgot to get out my gel at the mile 4 water stop. I only needed about 45 seconds to down my gel and drink my water, and then it was back to pounding the pavement.

There were plates across the roadway to record our official 5-mile split times, and Kelli and I crossed them at 52:54 for a 10:35 pace per mile--not as fast as the 5-mile race I ran last month (51:25), but still quite decent. Now it was time to see if I could live up to the new nickname Kelli has given me of "Negative Splits." (It just means you run the second half of the race faster than the first half. It's a good thing to do if you can manage it.)

The rain picked up some, to the point that I had to put my hood up, but fortunately it slacked off again after ten minutes or so, and I tied the jacket around my waist for the rest of the race. At mile 6, I tore open my salt packet and tried to eat the salt with some water. It tasted pretty icky, so I went ahead and took some Gatorade from the other table and drank that. (You're not supposed to take gels and Gatorade together because that's too much glucose at once.) Man, did that work! The next mile felt absolutely fantastic, and this was where I ended up leaving Kelli behind. (Sorry, Kelli.) So I will definitely do this in the half-marathon.

Shortly after the Water/Gatorade Stop of Awesomeness, I came back to the place where Cheering Runner Lady and More Cowbell Lady had been--and they were STILL THERE! I told More Cowbell Lady, "Such dedication! You rock!" and she said, "No, YOU rock!" and rang her cowbell extra loud.

Soon we were in a different part of town, having run out of Beautiful Tree-Lined Residential Street to run on. This part of town looked nasty. Nasty as in "I would not go there in broad daylight without police protection" nasty. The old ramshackle houses were all jammed on top of each other, mostly in awful repair, and most of the tiny front yards had rusting metal fences around them. It was just creepy and depressing. We ran down a couple of blocks of this, past a super-creepy abandoned industrial building, and then turned right and ran past all of these brand-new lofts and townhouses being built in an area called Battery Park. Yeah, as in "you can expect to be a victim of battery if you walk three blocks away."

Fortunately, we made a few more turns and were running down another semi-main drag when we came upon mile 8! Hurrah, beautiful mile 8! I had been looking forward to another stop for a good five minutes and was glad to see it come up on the left. I did my second gel, an apple-cinnamon one this time, and it tasted delightful. I looked at my watch once I started running again and saw I was at 1:25 or so. If I could run two ten-minute miles to finish the race, I could come in at under 1:45:00 (my secret goal)!

I really dropped the hammer on the last two miles. I felt great and wanted to pass some runners (and hit my goal), so off I went. The last mile wound back into Edgewater Park and went right by my car, still ensconced in its parking spot. For a horrible moment I thought the race course went back up that rather steep hill we'd had to walk up twice before the race, but thankfully, it turned right instead and followed the shoreline. In the distance, I could see a big white tent, but I still wasn't sure how far away from the finish I was. I kicked up the pace another notch and passed six or eight more people coming into the final turn. There stood another lady with a cowbell (yay!), and then spectators and runners who had already finished lined the sides of the course, cheering, and the red timer lights loomed large on either side. The announcer's voice called out the time as people thundered up to the finish. The timer box said 1:44 something when I crossed, and a smiling woman congratulated me and pressed a medal into my hand.

Yay!! I had done it! And there Amy was giving me a high-five and a hug. She'd finished three minutes before me--wow! I immediately unwrapped the medal and put it around my neck, panting and grinning and elated. She and I didn't want to leave the finish until Kelli came over--"She's got to be right behind me!"--and she did, about three minutes later, provoking another happy round of high-fives and woooooots and hugs.

The refreshment tent was well stocked with water and bananas and granola bars and scrambled eggs. I had some of everything at a picnic table next to the finish, all the while keeping an eye out for Liz. I had just finished everything when I saw her Team in Training shirt coming down the path, so I ran back to her and whooped and hollered and probably embarrassed the living daylights out of her, and Kelli and Amy high-fived and hugged her on the back side of the finish line and got her a bottle of water.

A nice guy we waylaid in the parking lot named Mike took these pictures. Look how happy we are with our medals!

We were all ecstatic because we all met our goals. Amy was trying to beat her previous PR of 1:48:00, and she stomped it into the ground; Kelli wanted to run faster than 11-minute miles, and she did that handily (10:26 pace--awesome!); I wanted to beat 1:45:00, and I did (my official chip time was 1:42:08--YEAH, BABY!!), and Liz wanted to break two hours, and she did.

Oh, and I did run negative splits, so I can keep my nickname. I ran the first five miles in 52:54 and the second five miles in 49:14! That's a 10:35 per mile pace on the first half and a 9:50 (!!) pace per mile on the second half. I am certain I ran under 10 minutes on both of those last two miles. I came in 112th out of 165 in my age group (so hey, I beat 53 people in my age group alone!), and I came in 1331st out of 1665 people who finished within the 3-hour time limit--pretty well at the back of the pack, but a ten-mile race probably attracts more seasoned runners than a shorter distance. Yes, you can just show up and walk a 5K or even a five-miler, but ten miles is getting out of reach for the non-trained person.

We rocked it out! Thanks to Liz, Kelli, and Amy for making it an awesome day!

"Nervous wreck" doesn't even BEGIN to describe me...

The question we have to ask ourselves today is, "Does Phil feel lucky?"

So, um, I have a race tomorrow. Ten miles. I am not actually *racing* this race tomorrow, mind you--it is just a training run. A training run that happens to be ten miles long. Where I get a MEDAL at the end. EEEEEEEE!

The race, she is SOLD OUT, meaning I will get to run with about 2500 of my closest friends. That's about as many as were at the 5-mile race I did last month.

The weather is unsettled. This is BAD. Bad for Amanda's nerves and just plain bad in general. Right now the hour-by-hour weather says it will be 51 degrees at the gun with a 40% chance of rain. By the time I am likely to finish, it will be 53 degrees with a 50% chance of rain. It would be so much easier if was definitely going to rain or definitely going to be dry. Overcast is good, but it would be better sans rain.

And a temperature of 50-ish degrees is right on the line between capri temperatures and shorts temperatures. If it were dry and sunny I'd go with shorts, but I'm thinking I'll want the capris if I'm going to get wet. And I'll have to schlep my rain jacket with me. And depending on what I wear or don't wear, I will have vastly differing storage capacities. In the worst-case scenario, I will barely manage to fit my car key and gels in my back capri pocket. In the best-case scenario (jacket and shorts), I could comfortably carry a hat, gloves, extra socks, enough gels for an army, kleenex, extra water, etc. When I went to try everything on, the capris felt hot, so I decided to ditch them and go with the shorts. This will probably result in a monsoon lasting for the entire length of my run.

However, if I do badly tomorrow, it won't be because I had a bad pre-race dinner. (I took Ultra Hardcore Badass Runner-dom step #3: Pasta dinner the night before the race!) I found a lot of message board postings from people who liked pasta with grilled chicken the night before a race. Lacking any creative impetus, I decided to go with spaghetti and struck out for The Olive Garden at about quarter to six. Fortunately, I remembered on the way there that this little pizza/grinder joint in the next town over also has some pasta dishes on their menu, so I stopped in there instead. It's a non-chain restaurant and much closer to home. I was so nervous I forgot my camera (see??), but I did indeed have the perfect dinner: spaghetti with red sauce topped with grilled chicken, with a little garlic bread on the side for good measure. And two giant glasses of water.

The other thing that is worrying me is my eye. My right eye has been itchy and has swelled up a little over the course of the week. I thought it was a bug bite directly below my eye at first, but now I'm not sure. I have been wearing my glasses all week, but I refuse to try and see where I'm going with spatters of water obscuring my vision tomorrow. I am wearing my contact lenses for the race and hoping I won't be miserable.

The other other thing that's bothering me is my right hip/leg. I think I pushed it too much at last weekend's eight-miler and it hasn't been quite right since. It was kinda achy and sore on Tuesday, and then on Thursday it still hurt even though I was running slowly. It seemed better for a while today, but then during the afternoon dog walk, it was acting up again. We'll see what it does tomorrow (behaving would be nice).

But regardless of whether the race is a triumph or a total disaster, I won't be alone. I am driving three of my Team in Training teammates up to the race so we can get a parking spot at the race site (because the race is so full, they're only letting carpools park close by). I don't know if we'll actually run together--I would prefer to go at my own pace so I can get a better idea of my probable finishing time for the half--but I'm sure there will be much celebratory squeeing afterwards.

I found out the hard way last time that I did not put my D-Tag on correctly. (The D-Tag is the red thing you loop into your shoelaces that times you at the race.) I got to the five-mile race and saw that my D-Tag was coming undone twenty minutes before the gun! I stuck the adhesive on the wrong side of the tab or something. For anyone else who needs a remedial lesson in how to put on a D-Tag, here's a helpful video:


You're welcome.

I have to get to bed ASAP for my 4:45 alarm, so I'll see you after the race!

Another day, another eight-miler...

Lindsey and I were at the trailhead bright and early this morning to get our eight miles in (Lindsey had wanted to do ten, but it just didn't happen). The weather was great--temperatures in the mid to upper 40s and partly cloudy.

I was indeed quite sore from Tuesday's run and Wednesday's Pilates session, so we agreed to run slow and easy and just enjoy it. We had to do our own water stops since it was a workday and my husband couldn't be there to help, but it worked out okay. Lindsey and I both wore our water belts, and I carried a 16-ounce bottle of water to and from our water stop area. I managed to make it to the 4-mile mark before I had a gel. I tried a Hammer Vanilla gel today and it was just okay. I think I like the raspberry and apple-cinnamon ones the best.

The weather clouded up on the way back, and we got rained on in the last two miles, but it wasn't a frog-strangler or anything--nothing worse than what we endured during the St. Malachi race.

The inside of my right knee (where all those hamstring attaching points are!) started complaining around mile 7, and the inside of my left quad got in on the action about a half-mile from the finish, but we made it to the end in reasonably good repair, posting a not-too-terrible 1:32:15 for an 11:32 pace per mile. That's not nearly as fast as I was last Sunday, but still faster than the previous group attempt (1:32:59). I made sure to use the resistance band and stretch out my hamstrings when we were done. It worked much better once I remembered that the band was supposed to go over the arch of my foot, not behind my knee!

Today was Lindsey's 30th birthday, so I insisted on treating her to breakfast/lunch at the bakery. We had a nice meal and a great time, and we were all done by 11:00! Talk about a productive morning!

Lindsey is now in Vegas! Hope you're having a great time, Lindsey!

Pilates up close and personal

I had my first private Pilates lesson tonight. (Every time I say the words "private Pilates lesson," it still cracks me up. Never in my life did I imagine I would go for such a thing!) I already knew the instructor Kim from her days as our group instructor, but now I was going to the studio she has at her home about a half-hour's drive out into the country.

It was a glorious afternoon and I thoroughly enjoyed the drive down. No sooner had I found the right address, pulled in, and shut off the car that I turned and saw the bottoms of four paws, two shiny black noses, and two bright faces with big pink tongues at my driver's side window. Kim's dogs were a great welcoming committee!

The studio was not huge, but certainly big enough, and two windows offered lovely views of the countryside. One whole side of the room was taken up by a very interesting piece of equipment. It's called a reformer, and it looks like a medieval instrument of torture. It is reminiscent of a bed frame with various springs and things running lengthwise underneath it, along with footrests, shoulder blocks, and a headrest. The part where your torso goes (the carriage) can slide back and forth to accommodate whatever exercise you're doing. After a few warm-up exercises on the mat, Kim asked me to lay down on the reformer with bent legs and push straight back (away from my feet) against the shoulder blocks until my knees were straight. This was not easy because there was plenty of resistance from the springs. I did various exercises with my legs, and then Kim handed me these grips and pulleys to do arm exercises with. It was hard to remember everything all at once sometimes, but I did pretty well.

The most important running-related thing I learned was about my hamstring. I knew that the hamstring has a point of insertion more or less at your butt, but it also has three heads (the other end has to attach somewhere too, of course!) that all insert at the side of the knee. Guess what? Mine were all extremely tight. If Kim put any pressure on them at all while I was doing the hamstring stretches she showed me, it hurt like crazy. She warned me that the stretch I had been doing before was only stretching the butt end, not the knee end, and this was why they were so tight. She loaned me a thera-band (a resistance band--like a big rubber band) and showed me how to stretch out the knee end of my hamstrings. I promised I would do the new exercise after my eight-miler tomorrow morning. Tight hamstrings are bad, bad juju for runners and can lead to all sorts of other problems. She said I needed to work on lower-body flexibility and upper-body strength (not exactly surprising!).

I have to be at the trailhead to meet Lindsey at 8:00 tomorrow morning, so I'd better get to bed and get my beauty rest! (As I left, Kim told me, "Make a note of where you're sore tomorrow." Not "if you're sore," but "where you're sore.") Tomorrow could be a very interesting day...

A 5-Mile PR!

My right hip and leg were a bit sore this morning--I didn't stretch as well as I should have after my long run on Sunday. I went to the gym even though it was a lovely day because my friend and sometime gym partner Betsy's birthday was yesterday, and I wanted to take her out to lunch. Which is much easier to do if you're in the same place for a while before lunch. So there I was, back on the indoor track with the lap counter in my hand, clicking my way through 32 laps. I really should have dialed it back a notch with my sore hip and leg, but I didn't. I wanted to run 16 laps, walk one, and then run the other 15 laps. No gel or pretzels or Sports Beans today--just water during the walk lap.

Five miles is an odd number, and maybe that's why it doesn't appear on the schedule very often. To my surprise, I have only run this distance twice before: once waaaaay back in February, and once at the five-mile race last month where I rocked it.

Well, today I totally kicked its butt. Even with walking a lap in the middle, I finished five miles in 51:14, good for a pretty blistering (for me) 10:15 pace per mile. I don't think I have ever held a pace that fast over this long a distance. I did a 10:01 once, but that was only a three-miler.

Eleven-minute miles (or possibly even a touch faster?) for the half marathon are looking like a pretty good bet right about now.

(P.S. "PR" stands for "personal record"--your personal best time for a given distance.)

Looking back, looking ahead W5/W4

My oh my, those numbers are getting small! We are now less than 4 weeks away from the Big Day!

The Boston Marathon was today. It's easier than ever now to "watch" the race without actually being there. The men's winner set a new course record, running the marathon in an incredible 2:05:51. It's just mind-boggling--this man can run 26.2 miles faster than I can run 12 miles! (If you'll recall, my 12-miler last weekend was a 2:12:03.) I suppose it is some small comfort that if I race my half-marathon well, I can probably finish in about the same amount of time Teyba Erkesso, the woman's winner, took to finish Boston today (2:26:11).

Amazing!! It's hard to believe that they and I are made of the same flesh and bone.

Anyway, let's have a look at the report card for this week:

What was I was supposed to do in Week 5? Did I do it? (Generally, yes, but I moved stuff all over the place. I'll put the days I actually did stuff as opposed to what was on the schedule.)

• Tuesday: 4 miles YES!
• Wednesday: CROSS-TRAIN YES!
• Thursday: 4 miles NOPE (Day of pain and doc-in-the-box)
• Friday: 6 miles YES! (I walked a few laps, but I did cover the distance)
• Saturday: CROSS-TRAIN YES! (I remembered late in the day but still got 'er done!)
• Sunday: 8 miles YES!

That's certainly an improvement over last week. I missed a run, but I did both cross-training days this week and managed to run 18 miles.

What's my schedule for Week 4? (Behold, mileage increases everywhere!)

• Tuesday: 5 miles
• Wednesday: CROSS-TRAIN (I have a private Pilates lesson scheduled--man, am I pumped!)
  
• Thursday: 8 miles
  
• Friday: CROSS-TRAIN
  
• Saturday: 10 mile race (EEEEEEEE!!)
  
• Sunday: 5 miles

So, if I survive and actually manage to do all 4 runs this week, I will have put in 28 miles. Holy cow!

Can you still call it a "group run" if there are only two people?

So today's group run was not really very group-ish. It was actually a duo run...or maybe I should call it a buddy run. The only other person who could make it out this morning was Lindsey.

The weather was really blech--leaden gray overcast skies, temps in the upper 30s with a chilly wind, high humidity, and some light rain. It definitely would have been better without the wind and rain. I never made it to the hat-and-layer-removal stage. Every time I started to flirt with the idea, the wind would kick up again and I'd think "I'm not taking my hat off! I'll freeze to death!"

The weather being what it was, I wanted to run and get done so we could move on to more pleasant things, like yummy bakery breakfast items. We hit Mile 1 at 11:09 and kept right on truckin' from there, hitting mile 2.7 (first water stop) at 29:30, Mile 4 at 44:18, Mile 5.3 (second water stop) at 58:28, and the blissful longed-for end at a pretty super 1:26:42 (that's a 10:50 pace per mile--sub 11, baby! Woooot!). With Lindsey's permission, I really kicked it up on the last 2 miles or so and rocked out. Even so, Lindsey was less than 2 minutes behind me and said she felt good at the end.

It feels like 8 miles is a distance we've done half a dozen times now, but guess what? This was only the third time we've run it. (With steady improvement: first time was 1:35:00, second time was 1:32:59, and today was 1:26:42!!) We'll get to do it again on Thursday as the 8-mile runs invade the week, no longer content to just hang out on weekends.

It's weird how quickly you can adapt and change your thinking to the point that 8 miles is no longer a quake-in-your-shoes sort of distance. I mean, yeah, it's 8 miles and takes a while to run, but there's no doubt in my mind that I can run it and do reasonably well. And today I only slurped down one gel instead of the usual two. I just didn't feel like I needed another one at the second water stop, so I munched on a few pretzels instead and called it good. I wore my new water belt today with some gels in the pouch, so I figured if I suddenly bonked at mile 7, I could just grab a gel and some water and remedy the problem on the spot.

When I run 8 again on Thursday, I am going to see if I can make it all the way to mile 4 and just have one gel there. My plan for next Saturday's ten-mile race is to do a gel at miles 4 and 8 and have some salt at mile 6.

All every runner thinks about during the last mile of a training run is what she's going to eat afterwards.

Say hello to my delicious asparagus-and-crab omelet with scratch-made hollandaise sauce!

(Yes, it was every bit as good as it looks and sounds.)

Lindsey opted for the apple-cinnamon pancakes and enjoyed them thoroughly. We also drank the requisite kazillion cups of coffee. Why does coffee taste SO good after a long run??

An Open Letter to The Forces of the Universe Responsible for Runner Mojo

Dear FOTURFRM,

Hi, Amanda here. As you may have noticed, I have experienced a severe loss in momentum, groove, running mojo, whatever you want to call it, over the last two weeks. Trashing my heel last week was bad, and then the whole GI thing this week just really messed with me big time. I really appreciate you returning some of that mojo on today's run and hereby beseech you to pleeeeease let me have some more of it--preferably in a nice, steady dose building up to the race in 27 days. After May 16, I don't care if you yank the mojo for a while--but I really, really need it for a few more weeks. Please see what you can do. Thanks.

Love,
Me

There's a little more spring in my step...

...both literally and figuratively! Storms were predicted to move in Friday afternoon, so after the morning dog walk, I strolled around with my camera to get a few shots of the beautiful spring flowers popping up everywhere. Seeing all of the vivid colors in the sunshine was very therapeutic, even though tree pollen levels are off the charts right now.

After a very quiet day of reading, napping, and taking the dogs on an afternoon walk, I found myself reading the Runner's World Boston Marathon forums. The 114th running of the Boston Marathon is Monday. For the non-runners reading this, the Boston Marathon is a HUGE deal. You can't just slap down an entry fee and show up--you have to earn your way in by running a fast marathon somewhere else. Just how fast depends on your gender and age. If you do well enough at a certified local marathon, you can proudly tell people you have "BQ'd" -- qualified to run Boston. The Boston Marathon is probably the single most prestigious long-distance running event in the United States. It's like competing at USDAA/AKC Nationals in dog agility or being invited to the Olympics. Pretty heady stuff.

I don't know if I will ever even tackle a full marathon, much less BQ or run Boston, but I say all this to convey just how inspiring those forum postings are. Especially now, just before the race, you can feel the over-the-top excitement of the posters as they discuss their travel plans and pre-race rituals. It was impossible to read those messages without getting pretty fired up.

And so I found myself setting out for the gym just before 6:00 to put in some miles of my own. I missed my run on Thursday thanks to my stupid abdominal issues (which I now think were a perfect storm of dietary sensitivities, nothing more), so I am once again in the hole for this week, but I resolved to hit the track with no expectations and see what I could handle.

I walked two laps to warm up and then very gently shifted into higher gear. To be honest, the first three laps felt shockingly bad. My right heel (the one I injured last week) felt stiff, my lower back was stiff, my breathing felt bad--I just felt rusty. I've been forced into inaction too many days these last two weeks, and it clearly caught up with me.

I just kept going, hoping fervently things would improve, and to my enormous relief, I started to loosen up. I felt like a car engine that was finally getting fresh oil circulating properly throughout. About a mile in, I felt like I had come alive at last, every part of me fully awake and aware and ready to run.

The second mile felt delightful. It was bliss hitting my stride and feeling myself move in synch, arms and legs swinging back and forth to my own internal metronome, floating effortlessly around the track, steadily cranking out one lap after another. I was still running a very gentle pace, but that didn't dampen my joy one bit. I hit mile 2 at a sedate 23:09 and walked a lap to sip water and check my systems.

Everything still seemed okay, so I ran the rest of miles 3 and 4, still feeling marvelous and taking the pace up just a bit. The sun came back out after after the foul weather and threw tiny little bars of light precisely across my lane of the track, like the wood slats between the metal rails for a train. I grinned and imagined myself as The Little Engine That Could cranking out the laps. I was breathing a little harder by the time I stopped to walk another lap and surreptitiously sneak a few Sports Beans with my water, but I decided I could probably do another 2 miles, so I picked up the pace once more. If I could complete 39 laps, I would have 6.09 miles under my belt.

Unfortunately, I started faltering about 5 laps from the end. I got a stitch in my side, and then my form started disintegrating. My medial right knee started hurting, and when it got worse instead of better, I broke off my run at 36 laps, 2.4 laps short of 6 miles. Overall, I covered 5.625 miles in 1:03:03 for a pace per mile of 11:12. Not bad considering how awful I felt on Thursday. And if you count my warm-up and cool-down laps, I DID actually go 6 miles. I just didn't quite run all of it.

You know, the longer I write entries for this blog, the harder it gets to write about running. When you're a big-time newbie, everything stands out to you, and you feel like you're on the outside looking in at a circus: "Oh, look! Runners do all these weird things--eat bagels and slurp gels and wear shorts with liners and use BodyGlide to fight amusingly named phenomena like 'chub rub'! Tee hee!" And as you progress, it's exciting to write about new milestones (5 miles! 8 miles! TWELVE miles!) and faster run times.

But eventually, you're not running significantly farther or faster. I've already hit my peak long run for this training cycle (12 miles, last Saturday), and I doubt I will have any training runs before race day faster than the 10:01/mile pace I posted way back on January 30th.

So what's it all about now? The joys of running become subtler and run deeper, get harder to tease out with a hastily typed sentence or two. The superficial externals of props, times, distances fade into the background, give way to something burrowing relentlessly inward, something more timeless and essential, but much harder to pin down in neat rows of words.
I don't think a single word can capture what that internal spark is. Satisfaction? Sure. Pride? Yes. Joy? Definitely. But I could go on and add a dozen words to the list, all of them hitting a part without really illuminating the whole. I think "being in the zone" while you're running is a lot like how dogs live all the time: fully in the moment, fully aware of everything that's happening, using all their strength and senses to run and play and have fun. Something like that.

Case in point: Here's a video of my two dogs chasing each other around during a freak April snowstorm last year. There are few things more breathtaking than dogs running all-out, even in a small confined area.

So, to sum up, I guess I hope to run more like a dog--but with less barking.

Things are looking up...

I am feeling better. I even managed to run tonight. However, instead of blogging, I ate some more Naan Pizza with Asparagus and watched Back to the Future with my husband. Twenty-five years later, that movie is still funny! But 2015 is not looking nearly as exciting as Back to the Future Part II made it out to be. Where's my flying car? And where's my hoverboard?!

I promise a proper running-related post tomorrow. After I get some sleep.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The good: I finally made a recipe from a Runner's World magazine. Say hello to Naan Pizza with Asparagus!

It was very tasty!

In other good news, I got my taxes done, and everyone owes ME money! Yay!

The bad: Even though it was a beautiful day today, I did not run my scheduled six miles. And boy, was I ticked about that.

The ugly: I couldn't run because I had abdominal pain severe enough to send me to the doc-in-the-box. They don't know for sure what's going on, but they leaned toward a UTI or kidney stone. Oh joy. And now I have a headache and feel generally terrible. I'm going to bed.

We regret to inform you...

...that the IRS has pre-empted this post. I'll be back once I get my ^%#%$# taxes finished.

Girls' Night Out

Amy, Kelli, Lindsey, and I got together for a weeknight run tonight. The weather was perfect, sunny and in the mid-50s, and I was eager to get back in the groove after nearly 3 whole days off. We started right downtown and ran on city streets for a while before crossing over a highway and dropping down near the river--which would have been nicer if the river weren't so stinky. The bugs were also out in force (bugs + contacts are NOT a good mix!). We were supposed to run four miles, but we weren't sure where we should turn around, so we timed it with my watch and turned around at about 23 minutes.

Lindsey had to make a pit stop, which gave the rest of us a good excuse to walk for a few minutes so we wouldn't get too far ahead of her. On the way back, we had to run up a long, long hill. I got pretty out of breath by the end, but it wasn't too bad. I think my local Giant Hill is steeper. Once we got back into the city, it leveled off quite a bit, and we ran the last half mile at a pretty good pace. As best as I can figure from the rather lousy maps available on-line, we ran 4.2 miles in 46:23 for an 11:03 pace--pretty good considering we did some walking.

Of course, having been good and put in our miles, it was time to reward ourselves. Kelli took us to a fun pub-restaurant a few blocks away and we enjoyed a drink and some dinner. They had Paulaner on tap, so I had one with a turkey club and enjoyed it immensely. We laughed and ate and drank and discussed all sorts of things in lurid detail and had a great time.

Looking back, looking ahead W6/W5

There are only 33 days left until the race. 33 days, people! That's less than a dog's pregnancy! Less than football training camp season! Less than five weeks!

The correct response to any panic concerning race day is, of course, to go out and buy more running gear.

Isn't it adorable? Say hello to my cute little water belt. It only has two eight-ounce bottles of water, so I won't be running any 20-mile training runs in July with it or anything, but assuming I start out hydrated, I can easily do six miles with 16 ounces of water. And the little zipper pocket is perfect for holding...

Gels! OK, this is how you know I have become a total running geek. I saw these gels and snatched them up because they're new flavors I haven't tried yet. Vanilla! Orange! Hey, you could mix them together and pretend you're having a Creamsicle!

And yes, I got some more Injinji toesocks. They didn't have the cute stripey ones so I decided to go with pink.

But the most important item I bought yesterday was this:
It's a magnet. It's going on my car once I actually run the race, but for now, it's hanging out on my refrigerator--which is a really good place for it, and not just because it's metal. Every time I want to open the door and get something to eat, I see those numbers and think, "Is what I'm about to eat going to help me do 13.1 or hurt me?" It's a constant reminder that as hard as I've worked since December, these next few weeks are critical. I have to eat as well as I can, get plenty of sleep, run mindfully, stay away from sick people, and listen to my body to make sure I get to the start line.

I did 12 miles on Saturday, so I KNOW I can finish this race. I'm not worried about that. Heck, if I had to make a time estimate, I'd guess in the neighborhood of 2:30, plus or minus ten depending on the weather and how I feel that day.

Oh, and for a final dose of ice-cold "Oh my God this is really going to happen, I am actually going to run this race and SOON" reality, I now know my bib number.

9680.

Kinda gives me the shivers.

Anyway, let's have a look at the report card for this week:

What was I was supposed to do in Week 6? Did I do it?

• Tuesday: 4 miles NOPE (Day 2 of injury recovery)
• Wednesday: CROSS-TRAIN NOPE (Day 3 of injury recovery)
  
• Thursday: 4 miles YES!
  
• Friday: CROSS-TRAIN NOPE (I was just plain bad--no more skipping Pilates!!)
• Saturday: 12 miles YEAH, BABY! *fist pump*
• Sunday: 4 miles NOPE (Are you kidding me? I could barely MOVE when I woke up!)

My God, I don't think I've ever had so much red all over the schedule! I ran two days this week and did no cross-training. Boo! (And still covered 16 miles. Whoa!)

What's my schedule for Week 5?

• Tuesday: 4 miles
• Wednesday: CROSS-TRAIN
  
• Thursday: 6 miles
  
• Friday: CROSS-TRAIN
  
• Saturday: 8 miles
  
• Sunday: 4 miles

Week 5 is a cutback week. Dare I say it? It looks kinda easy. But never fear, there are all sorts of mileage increases in store for next week!

Do as I say, not as I do

Despite feeling like I'd been hit by a truck when I woke up this morning (ohhh, was I sore!), I managed to get a few important things done today: walk dogs, buy dog food, acquire more running gear (more on that tomorrow), go grocery shopping, fold a bunch of clothes, talk to my mother-in-law, go to agility class...not bad, right?

By the time I got home from class, I was starving, and it was 7:20 PM. Even though we had painstakingly bought all the ingredients for an Asparagus Naan Pizza recipe in Runner's World (except the naan--apparently Trader Joe's has frozen naan, but I didn't find that out until after I got home), I was too tired and too hungry, and it was just too darn late to cook, especially a new recipe.

Just days ago, a new burger place opened up in town called Five Guys Burgers and Fries. As the name says, that's pretty much what they do--burgers and fries. But they do them very well. These are no ordinary fast-food vittles. I had only been to a Five Guys once before, and I enjoyed it immensely. You can see where I'm heading with this, right? I turn to my husband and say, "Let's go to Five Guys!"

And we do, and it is delicious. We each order a "Little Hamburger" and split one order of regular fries (not large, just "regular"). No Coke, either. We polish off our burgers and quit halfway through the fries because we are full. I wonder idly as we toss our trash how many calories I've just consumed.

The answer: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!
According to this site, at least, the "little" hamburger has 480 calories, 26 grams of fat, 39 grams of carbs, and 23 grams of protein. And one-quarter of a "regular" serving of fries has 165 calories, 15 grams of fat, 39 grams of carbs, and 5 grams of protein. And I'm not even counting the in-shell peanuts we ate while waiting to pick up our order.

So the damage is over 600 calories, 40+ grams of fat, and nearly 80 grams of carbs. Please excuse me while I go hang my head in shame.

Clearly, I should have gone to Chick-Fil-A.

TWELVE big ones, baby! Muah ha ha ha ha!

You need a lot of stuff to run twelve miles. Including two pants choices, just in case.

So, this was it: the big kahuna, the longest run on the schedule. Twelve miles, only 1.1 miles fewer than the half-marathon distance. Considering the race is still 5 weeks away, it seemed a bit early to schedule such a long run. Usually you do your longest run three weeks before the race and start tapering (cutting back) from there. But I'm running a ten-mile race the day the other twelve-miler is scheduled, so this was likely my first and only shot at this distance before race day.

I'm sure you're shocked to hear I woke up before the alarm went off. I had trouble getting to sleep last night, too, and when I woke up, I was laughing at something someone had said in German in one of my dreams. (Yes, I am a German speaker.) But it's always good to start the day with a smile on your face, no matter how nutty the source.

I got out the door pretty much on schedule to drive to the group run site. The sun was just peeking above the horizon, splaying orange into my rear-view mirror as I drove, lighting a stunning blue sky unmarred by even a wisp of cloud. The sun was a smoky reddish eye on my right during the last few miles, showing clouds of steam rising off the marsh like so many simmering pots of stew.

I thought nearly everyone would want to come to this run--because who the heck wants to run 12 miles ALONE? (The full marathoners were doing 18! 18 miles!! My mind boggles at the very notion.) That kind of mileage is hard enough to do in a group! And the perfect weather could only help attendance--or so I thought. We were actually a surprisingly small group of only a dozen or so. No Ty, no Mike, no Eric and Heather, no Melissa, no Kelli, no Brittany, no Coach Rob...many folks were missing, much to my disappointment. But most of my core homies were there. I was delighted to see Liz and Angela and Lindsey pull in! And my walker friends Renee and Brad came too--they looked terrific!

Check out Lindsey's new water belt! It has four of those cute little bottles! And it turned out to be a very good thing she had it, too...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

We ran a double out-and-back pattern so that we'd only need three different water stops set up. Three miles to the south first, then three miles back to the parking lot, then three miles north and three miles back to the parking lot to make twelve. The temperature was hovering around freezing when we pushed off at about 7:45, and I took the first mile very slowly. It really takes me a good two miles before I feel like all systems are functioning. And it took me about that long to stop feeling cold today.

Doesn't that look inviting?

We hit mile 3 and the first water stop at a leisurely 34:02. I decided I'd have a gel at miles 3, 6, and 9 just to make sure I didn't suffer from Black Hole Stomach syndrome--God, what a vile feeling! I started off with a Tropical gel (and its welcome 25 mg of caffeine); Angela wanted a gel, but there weren't any at the water stop, so I gave her a chocolate one from my pocket. This left me with only one gel, but I knew there was a whole bag of them back at the parking lot, so I wasn't too worried.

I've noticed that if I stand around for too long at a water stop, I get both cold and stiff. At a race, you can keep walking as you drink and just throw the cup off to one side when you're done, but there's no clean-up crew on training runs, so you have to stand there, finish your drink, and tuck the used cup back into the storage bag so it doesn't blow away and litter up the park.

"We can just pretend we're finishing up and heading home," I said as we started back toward the parking lot. One segment down, three to go. It warmed up enough that I removed my hat and gloves at Mile 4, and we saw more and more wildlife as we ran: squirrels, chipmunks, woodpeckers, sparrows and cardinals and chickadees, and geese in the marsh scolding us as we ran past on the boardwalk, our feet clop-clop-clopping like so many horses. The sun was well above the horizon now, a bright gold-white presence at my right shoulder, and nature photographers were out in force, awkwardly schlepping their tripods hither and yon.

We made it back to the parking lot at 1:07:52, marginally faster than the previous segment. The six-mile mark, halfway home. Lindsey and I high-fived each other and eagerly dug into the goodies on the coach's trunk: gels, water, peanut butter pretzels. I quickly found a Hammer Chocolate gel, the identical twin to the one I'd given Angela. Peanut butter pretzels and chocolate gel--it was almost like eating a Reese's. Mmm. (It was good, honest!)

Liz was just running up as I was finishing. "Go on ahead," Lindsey waved me on, "I want to wait for Angela." I didn't have to be told twice and struck out solo on the third segment.

This section of the trail was drier, with stands of deciduous trees on either side and lush green meadows and fields to my right, and the river and the aptly named Riverview Road to my left. The sun winked on-again off-again on my face as it blazed between the tree trunks, and the temperature had warmed so that I was comfortable in a long-sleeve shirt and pants, everything else having been tossed in my car back at Mile 6.

I ran along with a sense of wonder and gratitude--that I could do this at all, and that I had been handed such a glorious day to prove my mettle. I listened to the steady rhythm of my footfalls and my breathing and the birds chittering and chirruping and was endlessly content. The mile markers, stately Washington-Monument-in-miniature engraved concrete pillars probably erected by the WPA, informed me that I was past mile 7, and now mile 8. Only one more mile to the last turnaround, whoo-hoo!

I was behind her for ten minutes before I finally caught her--one of our marathoners whose name escapes me, much to my horror. But I did catch her, and so I had a bit of company as we closed in on the next mile marker and my turnaround.

"Look! There it is!" I pointed gleefully at the cream-colored pillar off to the right of the trail.

"There's supposed to be a water stop here," Marathon Woman said.

There was quite patently no water there. Not a drop. Nothing. Crap. Now what?

"Good luck," Marathon Woman said with a wave, and kept going, because she wasn't turning around for another three miles. (Wow.)

And then I remembered: Lindsey would save me! She had been smart enough to wear a water belt. I turned around and began running back, and not three minutes later, I saw her heading toward me. I explained my predicament, and she was happy to share her water so I could down my last gel. (Thank you, Lindsey! You're my hero!)

That little problem taken care of, I was free to focus on the homestretch. Less than three miles to go, and I would have twelve miles under my belt! I picked up the pace a little more in anticipation, eager to see my little car and lie down on my mat to stretch under that awe-inducingly blue sky and know that I had done it! I had passed the first mile marker (Mile 10) and was closing in on the second (Mile 11) when I looked at my watch and saw I was almost at the two-hour mark. It's worth noting that I ran ONE hour for the very first time less than seven months ago! One muggy morning in late August of 2009, I ran 60 minutes straight, albeit so slowly that I only covered 4.3 miles, but I was ecstatic at my accomplishment. And now here I was doing TWO hours and then some! I took a careful look around me as I hit 2:00:00 on my watch and might have whooped if I'd had more energy left, but I was getting a little tired. I crossed the 11-mile mark about 90 seconds after that and couldn't believe I only had one more mile to go! Well, actually I could believe it, because parts of me were hurting that had never hurt before. Pretty much everything from the neck down hurt. I fished around mentally for a while before I realized my obliques didn't hurt--oh, wait, they hurt if I pressed them. My bad.

At this point, I solemnly swore that I would never, ever skip a Pilates workout again and stretch faithfully every day, not just after running. I thought about my mom, and all of the wonderful people who supported me and donated to the cause, and about what it would feel like to cross the finish line the day of the race. (I suspect it will feel INCREDIBLY AWESOME.)

And then...there it was, in the distance, gleaming brightly in the sun. The final mile marker. The end of the journey. And just past it, the parking lot!!

I don't think I've ever been so delighted to see a parking lot. Ever. Ever ever. Not in the history of the universe ever.

I swept past the mile marker and stopped my watch.

2:12:03.

Hot damn!

Here's how that works out by the numbers:
First six miles: 1:07:52 = 11:19 pace per mile
Second six miles: 1:04:11 = 10:42 pace per mile (37 seconds per mile FASTER!)
Twelve miles as a whole: 2:12:03 = 11:00 pace per mile (WHOO-HOO!)

I hobbled over to the water/gel/pretzel spread and was surprised to see Renee, who had already finished walking her nine miles. She gave me a high-five and her hearty congratulations.

I put my mat on the grass and lay down in the sun, doing my stretches with my eyes closed, feeling the white warmth on my face and trying not to curse too much at the pain. But despite the pain, all I was thinking was I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT!!

Pre-run jitters

Tomorrow is my first (and probably only) 12-miler before race day. I am a nervous wreck. It's like the day before finals, or graduation, or moving to a foreign country. All I can think about is "What should I wear?" and "Where will I put my gels?" and "Don't want to forget my camera" and "I have to make sure my scrambled egg pan is ready to go."

I didn't do my Pilates today. Bad Amanda. Kim hasn't answered my e-mail from over a week ago. I will have to write her another one...after the run, of course.

Wish me luck.

I'm BACK, baby!

I came! I saw! I ran! And my heel didn't mind at all! Yay!

I went to the gym and got on the gerbil wheel, thinking the softer surface would be kinder on me, and took it very slow and easy for the first mile. I still felt fine, so I bumped it up some for the second and third miles. Still felt fine, so I bumped up to a blazing (NOT!) 10:54 pace for the last mile. I hit 4 miles in 47:03, so yes, it was definitely a slow and gentle run, but I felt fine and that's what counts.

Now I am EXCITED for Saturday's run! Wooot!

I am drowning in work and I also have to get my taxes done. The 12-miler will be a blessed relief after all of that.