Outback Distance Classic

The weather gods smiled upon us... although it rained almost all of Sunday, for Saturday's 12K race we had no rain at all. It was probably in the low 70s but not too warm, and cloudy, which made me think the run would feel good. I did wear my Team In Training singlet and was happy to finally meet fellow Central Florida running blogger David. This was a really cool race, for a number of reasons-- most of all, I now feel a sense of running community that's not only virtual, as in addition to meeting David, I ran into a bunch of other local runners I knew, which was cool. A friend's four year old daughter was singing the national anthem, and she was adorable. It's nice to finally have some familiar faces to see.

The run itself was kind of difficult-- I finished in 1:05:13-- and I ran a little faster than I'd meant to, but in a race it's sometimes hard not to. At least I wasn't staring at my Forerunner the whole time, which was one goal I accomplished. I meant to take in the scenery more, but I also just wanted the race to be over, as the humidity seemed oppressive to me once I began running. I could feel the IT band bothering me toward the end, which further makes me think I need a break. 12K is a weird distance-- after 10K I would have been happy to quit, and those last 2K seemed to be stretching out in slow motion. I wanted to kill the guy who claimed the finish line "was just around the corner" when actually it was almost a mile away. Usually I enjoy the actual racing part of these events but this time it was a bit tough... although "tough" is good sometimes, too, because then you really feel like you accomplished something.

After cooling off a little bit, steak it was, and it was a fantastic dinner-- steak, chicken, rice, caesar salad, rolls, and a big ol' Fosters beer to help replenish those carbs.

I had convinced a friend to run her first race ever, the 3K fun run, and was squiring her around as various runners I knew through Team In Training, or through the local runner's club, came up to greet me. I was being a little protective, though, and refused an invitation to share dinner with some other runners because I was afraid we would talk about running the whole time, and I didn't want to turn off my friend, who is very tentatively exploring the joys of racing. Perhaps I was being over-protective, but I was afraid too many marathon tales of black toenails and chafing incidents might scare her away for good. I think she had a good time. I know I did. I convinced my husband to head over to the race after he got off work, and there was still lots of food to be had. All in all, this was a great race, even if the food (and not the running) became the central event for me. Even though the actual running was tough, the event was a lot of fun.

I'm also thinking no more races until the end of April, when there's a cool 5K race where your souvenir is a baby tree. Something related to the native ecosystems of Florida, and involving a special forest that is only opened once a year for this event. I would like to get into speedwork, but that's not compatible with the break I want to take, so maybe after a week or two of slow, careful running I'll think more about that.

I'm going to see about getting a bike, learning about kickboxing, and trying some of the other RBF cross training suggestions... still waiting for someone to tell me how to do "water running," or is it just what it sounds like?

(take it easy) race tomorrow

Thanks to everyone for the supportive comments about my last post. I really appreciate it, and the comments helped me through a tough week. If anything I've been using this time just to be thoughtful and reflective about life, to be grateful for what I have, and to think about what my priorities and goals in life really are, because we never know how much time we have to accomplish them.

Last weekend I was on a bit of a bender in terms of eating, but I was surprised to discover I'd dropped another pound and a half after the weekend. I'd been eating cheesecake, buffalo wings, steak-- comfort foods-- so it was somewhat of a miracle. I'm finally back to pre-marathon weight, and I can really notice a difference. I still can't believe I gained 10 pounds through training.

I've been running, but decided to take two days off before tomorrow's 12K Outback race. I really like the t-shirts-- a cool painting of a kangaroo with a little baby kangaroo in her pouch. For once I don't mind the corporate sponsorship and am excited about steak. Still planning not to run as fast as I can, not to wear the Forerunner, just to have fun, maybe wear my Team In Training singlet in Sandy's honor... or not, depending on how rainy it is. I went for a four mile tempo run on Wednesday and had tons of energy but later on started to feel creaky. The next day I still felt creaky. I had energy, but just felt like my body was kind of sore and worn down. This makes me even more certain that I don't want to run fast tomorrow, since I've discovered that sometimes running fast=feels good in the moment=injury later.

Which makes me wonder: how often should we take breaks from running, and how long should those breaks be? I'd be curious to hear how other RBF'ers weigh in on this debate. I wish I liked some other form of aerobic exercise that doesn't pound on my legs. I'm a terrible swimmer, and I don't own a bike. I've heard about water running, but am not quite sure how to do it. Any ideas?

I found out Thursday that my friend Sandy had gone into a coma. It had been a long day at work followed by a terrific reading I attended by Pulitzer prize-winner Edward P. Jones, reading from his novel The Known World, which is an amazing book about slaveowning blacks in the antebelleum South. The room was packed and I was drawn back into this novel I loved when I read it last summer, an unusual book about an unusual topic but so vividly imagined. The whole time I had my friend on my mind, and that night I slept horribly. I woke up with a start in the middle of the night, having a feeling I couldn't even describe-- feeling like I had seen something so vivid in my sleep that I wanted to remind myself to remember the shock of it the next morning, but I couldn't tell you what it was I saw or experienced, except that it was something strange.

On Friday I woke up earlier than I wanted to, feeling like I had not slept at all. I parked my car at the college where I work and trotted off for a three mile jog, running much slower than I normally do. When I came back to my car to get my clothes for the shower, I saw there was a message on my cell phone, so I immediately hit redial. It was Sandy's boss in the IT department of our college, telling me she'd passed away during the night.

I hadn't known her that long in the scheme of things. When I moved to Florida last May, she was my first new friend. We were the same age and we both wanted to buy a house, so that was the quest that united us last summer, and we spent considerable time talking about it-- neighborhoods, school districts, mortgage brokers, proximity to good restaurants, and that sense of finally owning something tangible, another rite of passage into adulthood. A house-- stability, age thirty just around the corner for both of us, both of us married but with no children yet.

She and her husband had just made an offer and were going through with the inspection when she found out she had leukemia. Our friendship had been developing as friendships often do-- you like the person, but there's no reason to rush things, because you've got all the time in the world to get to know them. When I heard she was sick and going into chemotherapy immediately, I felt a sense of urgency. I kept up with her and visited her after her treatments, and we exchanged long emails every week. At the beginning of October I asked her how she'd feel if I ran the Disney marathon in her honor, and I was thrilled when she told me that she would be honored. I threw myself into fundraising, canvassing, bake sales, you name it-- I'd never done this kind of thing in my life. I kept her updated about my training. She told me all the details of her treatment, and how she'd found that a few of her longtime friends shied away from her now that she was sick, but that she was happy I hadn't been like that.

I last saw her at her apartment the week before I ran Disney. She was enthusiastic about the stem cell transplant she was to receive in Gainesville the night before I ran. She was afraid her husband wasn't facing the fact that the transplant might fail, and she had been trying to prepare him for it. But she seemed pretty optimistic, and I felt optimistic for her-- after all, the donor was a "ten out of ten" match, whatever that means. The next week, after I'd written her to tell her all about the marathon, I got a long letter from her. She had sent plenty of emails, and in the mail she'd sent me cards, a Lance Armstrong bracelet, Christmas letters, etc, but this was a long letter. She described the transplant process, said she was so proud of me for running the marathon, and then she wrote:

"The bone marrow transplant unit has 20 patient rooms. All of them are occupied. I have met a few people while I have been up here. The stories of people here are really amazing. No one should have to go through this disease. Cancer is such a hard disease. When I get better, I want to volunteer with the leukemia society. I want to help others who have this. It doesn't seem so scary when you know someone understands what you are going through. I know you had mentioned something about starting a bone marrow drive when I get better. I think we should definitely do that when I am back. There is always a need for donors, especially minorities. I know people here who have been waiting for a donor for quite a while. It just makes you feel so helpless. I was lucky that a donor was found so quickly, and I thank God every night for that. I also thank God that I have a friend like you. We have a special bond that can't be broken."

I was so touched when I got the letter, and it broke my heart yesterday, reading it. For awhile it was looking like smooth sailing with the transplant, until she came down with this graft-versus-host disease, and her heart and liver finally gave out. I spoke to her husband and he told me about her final hours. He seemed to want to report the details to somebody, even though I don't know him well. I've been crying a lot, off and on, thinking about her family, many of whom sent me letters when they sent me donations for the marathon. The funeral is in Louisiana, but we'll do a memorial service here in Florida soon.

I've been trying to notice everything: burying my nose in the bag of coffee beans, looking up at the intense blueness of the sky, trying to separate out the flavors in the raspberry chocolate cheesecake I had for lunch. I want to tell the people around me over and over again how much I love them; how lucky I am to have them. I can't quite believe this outcome-- I really did think we would be there at Disney next year, cheering on the Team In Training participants, starting that bone marrow drive together at the college. And her presence in the letters and emails she wrote is still so very strong-- it's really hard to believe she's gone.

I wanted to run ten miles today and think about her the whole way. I wanted to notice every detail, the songs I was hearing on my iPod, the humanity in the faces of the people I pass... the old guy I see running with his dog every day, the father and his daughter on their tandem bike, the way my muscles and my body felt so strong as they carried me over the trail. The sun beating down and the cool wind counteracting it. I did not want that run to end. But I couldn't quite accomplish ten miles-- I still had energy, but I started to feel the IT band hurting after 8, so I stopped, conscious of my limitations. For today, that's all I had in me, and I guess it was enough.

leukemia

My friend in whose honor I ran the Disney Marathon for Team in Training is in the 4th stage of graft-versus-host disease, which is a result of the stem cell transplant she received in January. She found out last July that she was sick, and she's managed to fight so many small battles along the way with chemotherapy, its side effects, finding a donor, going through the transplant, etc-- not to mention the fact that she was in the hospital through all three hurricanes that slammed into Orlando. Each time she got through a particularly difficult bout of treatment, she would always send out an email letting everyone know she was okay. She had to go to a different city for the transplant, so she's not as close by.

I hadn't heard from her in a few weeks, which worried me, but the last I'd heard she was doing better and might even be moving out of the hospital. That was three weeks ago. Now I've learned she's having major complications with this graft-versus-host disease, where from what I can gather the skin and then the liver are attacked because resistance is down. It doesn't sound good.

I'm not even going to try to express my feelings about this because it's just very sad-- there's not much I can say.

valentine's day run

Although I usually run in the morning when it's cool, today I ran at lunchtime, and it was already 78 degrees. There were no trees on the route I chose today; I was recalling the agony of the Disney Marathon's 80 degree temps, and by the end of my four-mile run, the heat had gotten to me. I still somehow averaged a 9:22 min. per mile pace, but I didn't feel very good.

The Outback 12K in two weeks, which David recommended, is on my list of things to look forward to. There's a 3K and a 12K, and the best thing about it is that the race ends with steak and other assorted goodies from the sponsoring Outback chain. The race will start at 3:00 pm, (which is good, because who wants to eat steak at 8 am?) but running in the heat today, I started to chicken out. I signed up some friends for the 3K. Should I run the 3K instead to hang with them? Their race starts an hour earlier...

I think I'm still going to run the 12K-- after all, might as well work up an appetite. But I've also decided I won't think about my time at all. It will be just a fun, long run; I won't wear my Garmin, and above all, I will not push myself to be fast. That way, if the weather's hot I'll make it to the finish line without being overly challenged by the heat. My race goals are therefore to have fun, sail along, and look forward to the steak bites at the end.

73-year-old marathoner clocks in sub-3 hours...

This is amazing. I can only hope that my knees aren't destroyed by the time I'm his age, but running a sub-3 hour marathon? Inspiring.

post-race blues

The Gasparilla race was so much fun that it was somewhat difficult for me to get back to my normal life this week. Work was accompanied with various bureaucratic and interpersonal stresses, and I kept wanting to go for a long, hard run to forget about them for a little bit, but my body was still hurting from Sunday's half marathon (stiffness in my lower back and my hamstring). I've done two easy runs since Sunday, some weights and a yoga class. I like yoga but don't feel like it makes me as strong as Pilates, and I also have a difficult time tuning out the concerns of the world to achieve the ideal state of detachment that yoga demands. I wish I were better at that, but at least I can zone out in my own way while running. Pilates, with its slightly weird, early 20th-century calisthenic and strength poses, suits me much better than yoga.

I moved to Florida last May, and for months I was driven by the excitement of being in a new place, starting a new job, making new friends, etc. Now the novelty is starting to wear off, and I'm not seeing everything through rose-colored glasses. Since college, I've never lived in one place for longer than two years, and the permanence I was craving by snaring a stable job after grad school is now starting to freak me out. I love the stability of marriage but not the idea of remaining in one place forever, shackled to a mortgage, a job, and a city that still doesn't quite feel right to me. Three hurricanes showed me how stressful home ownership could be, and after getting all the hurricane damage repaired, I'm still left with a brown lawn that looks like a disaster compared to the perfectly watered Florida golf course-lawns of my neighbors. A four mile commute between home and work sometimes takes 40 minutes in rush hour traffic. (I could run that distance faster, but the route would be all car exhaust and strip malls).

And these complaints are minor, really-- I'm healthy, I made it through a couple big races (two halfs and my first full marathon) without serious injury, I have a great marriage, a good job, a house, friends. Great weather most of the time, except for the hot summers. So what's my problem?

I guess it is dissatisfaction that drives us to strive for more in our lives-- to set new goals, to not be content with things as they are. I'm going to do this both for running and for my career, and I think that will help-- sort of a belated set of new year's resolutions. I am grateful to have running because it does help me put everything into perspective, and I always try to channel more destructive urges (like drinking) into running instead.

So... coming down off the high of the Gasparilla race has got me thinking... and aware that some new goals are due, as well as some more positive thinking...

Gasparilla half update

I came back yesterday from Tampa, where I ran the Gasparilla half marathon in 1:59:42. Yay! A personal record, and a fantastic weekend, which would have been great even without the PR.

My running partner Susan and I drove down to Tampa on Saturday afternoon. Getting out of town allowed me to leave the stresses of work behind, and the running expo at Gasparilla was amazing, better than Disney's expo. I discovered, sadly, that my beloved Mizuno Mercury's are being discontinued, but I also managed to find a discounted pair at the Expo that will last me well into this year. We picked up our race packets and the disappointingly ugly t-shirts-- bright yellow, no small sizes left, "Bank of America" plastered in several locations, and the word "Gasparilla" nowhere in sight. But the goodie bag contained some choice goodies, including energy bars, gels, and various runner's ailment products. We checked into our hotel, a few blocks from the event, and discovered that it had been partially transformed into a retirement home for people who are still displaced from Hurricane Charley. So the combination of runners and seniors was nice.

After checking in, we went to a nearby mall, had a great time shopping, and then split a delicious plate of gnocchi with tomato-vodka sauce at an Italian place called Maggiano's. We got back to our room at 9 and watched some TV before setting the alarm and asking for a wake-up call.

The wake-up call never came, but fortunately, the alarm went off at 5 a.m. For some reason, we decided to wear our Team In Training jerseys again, although I was a bit embarrassed since we weren't actually raising money for this one. Ate a Clif bar, headed outside, wishing that I had brought a throwaway sweatshirt-- it was cold! Maybe 48 degrees. I huddled amid a crowd of runners in my singlet and shorts, hoping the runners would deflect the wind, until it was time to start.

The gun went off at 6, and we ran the first several miles in the dark. Somehow this was a more intense race than the OUC half marathon, with runners not talking very much to each other. We were running alongside the full marathoners for the first 8 miles before they split off and headed away from us. At one point we ran by a long stretch of beautiful mansions on the waterfront, and then out onto a little strip of land in the middle of the water, out and back, which offered some nice scenery, even though it was still pretty dark. I warmed up pretty quickly and tried to keep us from going too fast using the Garmin Forerunner, but I was getting a lot of conflicting readings. It seemed we were averaging between 8:57-9:17 per mile, but each mile was different. I haven't quite mastered the Forerunner in a race situation yet.

There were few crowds along this route, unlike Disney, but Gasparilla was a better experience for me, and running in cool temps was nice. Half marathons feel so much better to me. At one point the Chik-Fil-A challenge truck honked by us, with several runners chasing it. We moved over to the right, but this didn't stop a runner from shoving me as he passed, which was completely unnecessary, as I was not in his way and was not weaving all over the road. That pissed me off, but other than that I was on cloud nine. Susan was just getting over bronchitis but still managed to keep a strong pace, and the only other thing I have to complain about was that I took a Power Gel that didn't sit well on my stomach. From now on, I'm sticking to Gu's... We sprinted the last mile and crossed the finish line with 18 seconds to spare.

No IT band problems, no achilles tendonitis, no shin splints, just a little pain in my lower back that I didn't feel until after the race. I was so cold after finishing that I picked a discarded sweatshirt off the ground and wore it back to the hotel... and will toss it myself at a future race. But otherwise I felt good, and exceptionally happy. We drove back to Orlando, rehashing the details of the race, talking about life, stopping for chili-mac at a Steak & Shake on the ride home. Life is good.

off to Tampa

I'm headed off to Tampa today to run tomorrow's Gasparilla half marathon. The 15 K is today. It's somewhat chilly right now but it should be sunny and in the 70s most of the weekend, which should be nice for our fellow Canadian RBF'ers who have come down to Florida to run some of the races.

This is my first race where I've actually traveled a few hours away AND stayed overnight just to run a race. My running partner and I are going together. To my family, this represents a whole new level of obsession. They may fear I will do this more often, leaving my poor husband to fend for himself in the house, a "running widower" (similar to a football widow?).

I am not that concerned about my time but would like it to be slightly better than the only other half marathon I've run, back in December. I've been carbo-loading, and I'm also hoping I don't gain back the difficult pounds I've been working to lose since the last marathon. Wish me luck!

health fairs and rain

I didn't go for my usual run in the morning because I was fasting for a cholesterol test at our university health fair. I was alarmed back in October when I donated blood and saw the cholesterol was already at 200. Here I am, thirty years old and fairly thin, but high cholesterol runs in the family. I was eating OK, but with the marathon training I started being more careful-- cutting out the occasional binges at McDonald's, which were probably happening too frequently. (Especially after going through a couple hurricanes, when our power would go out for days and everything in the fridge went bad, the one restaurant in Orlando that would have power was Mickey D's... it ran on the same generator as the local hospital.) So, no more junk. I rarely eat chips or junky snack foods, I try to avoid processed food at home, and I never, ever drink soft drinks, so really my junky weaknesses are for take-out Chinese, pizza, cheeseburgers, and any appetizer platter involving buffalo wings and fried cheese things... Mmm.

Cholesterol was down to 193. Woo-hoo! Felt like celebrating. I wanted to go for a run but there was too much to do at work. I came home and went running near my house just before dark. Running in my neighborhood is the worst. In New York, I didn't mind running in an urban setting, but there's something about running alongside suburban strip mall boulevards that is incredibly depressing. Mixed smells of car exhaust and fast food burger fumes. I took a road less traveled that also did not have sidewalks-- it was raining and my feet got all mucked up. I still managed to feel pretty good doing four miles.

I also tossed my name in the hat for the New York Marathon-- the lottery, at any rate. I think I was on that website the minute they posted the application. I must be crazy.