American Cancer Society 24-Hour Relay for Life

In April of 2009, I joined my husband’s office team in the American Cancer Society 24-Hour Relay for Life. Hubby and I walked a lap (3.75 miles) on Saturday then went back in the wee hours of Sunday and I ran 3 more. I decided then that I would be back next year for 35 miles and someday I would get a 50 mile plaque.




       Fast forward to April 2010 and there I was, at the back of a small pack of Ultra Marathon runners, knowing I would be far away for next year’s race, and that this was probably my one shot for a plaque. I promised myself I would start slow and keep it that way so I walked the first mile and then set my Garmin to beep at me if my heart rate went over 151 BPM (my max is 206 if you want to do the math). Everything was going along swimmingly, we had lots of people, some running as single runners, some in teams like mine where the group wanted to rack up as many miles as possible, and some running a true “one man on the track at a time” relay. The track was shaped like a backwards P so the first ¾ mile or so was the same piece of road as the last. Everyone was chatty and friendly, filled with smiles and waves, friends greeting friends, and people cheering each other on. It really was the most fantastic group I have ever run with!

       The first few laps were great. I was feeling great, the weather was great, my time was moving along great and my hope of meeting my goal was great, I was a very happy camper! Between each lap, I took at least a 10 minute break and put my feet up while noshing on sports gels, or crackers. Each time I passed the lap counting table there were different members of my track club waving hello and cheering. It was fun to see who would turn up next and gave me one more thing to look forward to at the end of each lap.

       After the first 3 laps, I decided to change from my VFFs to trail shoes, mostly just to change things up before I had a problem, but also because my feet were feeling a bit battered, and because it was beginning to rain seriously. The path we were following was and old gravel road with rocks ranging from the size of a pea to the size of my fist, and often they were set it the dirt with one unforgiving corner sticking up to catch a toe or dig into an arch. Ultra runners do not complain about rough terrain, but if we talked about feet, it was the rocks that were cursed. Half way around the lap in my trail shoes my ankles started to hurt, a lot. It was all I could do to keep running. I would have taken them off and run bare, but the rocks were way too wicked for my feet. All I wanted to do was get the lap over with and get back into my VFFs! Strangely, the rain never really bothered me. It wasn’t terribly cold and the trees kept most of it off of us. We had the rain fly from our tent stretched over the table to keep stuff dry and my body was pretty much soaked with sweat anyway. At least the rain relieved the oppressive humidity that had been pressing down on us for the first few hours.

       I started slowing down a little after lap 5. I had been maintaining close to a lap an hour with breaks and had covered almost 19 miles so I relaxed for a while, ate a peanut butter sandwich, and stared lap 6 at about 1pm. The weather was really starting to heat up. Our predicted high was around 70, but it ended up around 80 once the rain clouds cleared and the sun started beating down in earnest. Fortunately, most of the trail was in the woods with just one stretch that was really exposed and sunny. During this lap my husband called to tell me he and my daughter were at the camp. Last year it was a true camp with tents and elaborate set ups to support the runners. This year they wouldn’t allow tents, but people still had awnings and tables full of food and drinks, and were ready to roll out sleeping bags for the night time hours.

       With Hubby to keep me company, we walked a lap to give my legs a break. My hip flexors were screaming and my quads were already getting sore, but the lap of easy walking really helped give me fresh energy and calmed the complaints of my legs. After another all too brief break, Rusty and I decided to run the next lap. Off we went at our slow slogging pace, waving to people we knew or had gotten to know, asking about what lap they were on, saying “Good job!” and continuing on. The end of lap 7 meant I had covered the distance of a full marathon and was just over the half way point! I had used up only 1/3 of my hours and felt good about my time. While we were out, my daughter blew up the air mattress for me so I was able to lie down and elevate my legs for a while before setting out again.

       Lap 8 behind me meant 30 miles done and time to get some dinner! We called a pick up order in to Pizza Hut and I ate two pieces immediately. There are certain times in your life when pizza tastes like Ambrosia of the gods, this was definitely one of them! I dropped Hubby and kid at home and took my pizza back to camp. At this point, the most ambitious member of our team was finishing her 12th lap. She is training for her first full Ironman and could easily have done 75 miles, but she wanted to be done by night fall so she wouldn’t risk getting hurt in the dark and mess up the half ironman she is doing in 3 weeks. By sunset, Brandi had packed up her 50 mile plaque and was gone.

       With too much pizza in my stomach, I started out on lap 9. I was really beginning to drag at this point and not paying attention to what I was doing when I stumbled on a tree root. I have no idea how I managed to catch myself because all I remember was the ground coming at my face and somehow getting my foot underneath me to stop it. It would have probably been the end of the day for me if I had hit the ground because I had both hands out in front of me and surely would have broken something if I had kept going down. Back on my feet I felt okay, other than a little shaken up. I knew I had pulled and jammed a few things and hoped it wouldn’t come back to haunt me later in the race.

       I only vaguely remember lap 10. The sun was setting and I was cursing the fact that I didn’t think to take my flash light as it got darker and darker. I managed to catch a group of walkers near the end and enjoyed the light of their beams for the last mile to camp. 37.5 miles done!

      Now it was seriously dark, but there were still a lot of people out so it wasn’t too creepy. The crowd had thinned down considerably with many people having enjoyed the day and a few laps and headed home. Considering the number of people out there, it was lonelier than you would think. Everyone had strict paces set and joining another runner or walker for any length of time meant sacrificing your own pace to match theirs. A few times I slowed down to enjoy the company of walkers for a while, but there were few runners that go as slow an me and I didn’t want to risk putting too much energy into any one lap to keep up with them, even if I could have. By now there were walkers, shufflers, and the true relay runners that would blow past us like wraiths in the dark, the light from their head lamps sliding by like a train on a prairie. Their approach was heralded only by the crunch of the rocks behind me and then they would disappear into the blackness ahead of me. But for the most part my laps in the dark were alone. I had even abandoned my MP3 player, preferring to be alert to the sounds around me.

       Growing up, I was terrified of the dark and this paralyzing fear stayed with me until I had my first child so I was shocked when I realized I was on the darkest stretch through the woods and not completely freaked out. Looking forwards and back, there was no sign of another runner, not a single glow of a flashlight or head lamp, not a speck of light from the occasional glow sticks to mark the trail, not a single sign of human life beyond the pale glow of my little LED penlight. I felt peaceful and safe. I didn’t even panic when I suddenly heard loud splashing in the canal alone the path. Swinging my light in the direction of the noise, it illuminated a small heard of deer who were much more terrified by the light in the dark than I was by their noisy splashing. I’d like to think my brain registered that loud noises meant something was running away and not sneaking up, but I suspect my brain was simply too dead tired to react.

       I stumbled into camp after lap 12 hungry, sore and exhausted. The jarring stumble on the root in lap 9 was starting to rear its ugly head as a swelling knee. It was after 11pm, long past my bedtime, and I still had 5 miles left to go. The temperatures had been falling all evening and somewhere around sunset the wind had started blowing. By this time it was howling and the stretch of path that had been in full hot sun in the afternoon was now the place where the wind whipped across the shallow lake and nearly blew us off our feet. We were down to two intrepid lap counters, Jerry and Kristin, who were bundled in hats, scarves and mittens against the cold. They never lost their cheer though and encouraged every runner that passed their table with jokes and smiles. All the runners seemed to be at the same level of tired. Anyone left was giving it their all, whether they were on lap 10 or lap 25.

      I was really at my low point. With over 7 hours left to go, I knew I had time to rest and regroup, but wasn’t sure it would be enough. I ate a piece of cold pizza, downed a couple of Tylenol, and crawled into my sleeping bag shoes and all. An hour later the aching in my hips woke me up. Looking around I realized about 30 people had packed up and gone home without my noticing. Many had dropped out, falling short of their goals due to injuries, blisters or just plain utter exhaustion. The camp looked like the night of the living dead, with stiff, sore, cold runners digging in packs and hobbling around like every joint below the waist was frozen. I was no exception. I’m not sure what was harder, talking myself into getting out of my sleeping bag or actually making my legs work enough to get me up. Thank goodness I was close to a picnic table and could use my arms to pull up to a stand! At that point, getting up was about the last thing I want to do, but after having traversed 45 miles, 5 more was too few to give up. Once again I changed clothes to get into something warmer and hobbled to the lap table to start my last full lap. It was a blur, but the feeling of relief when I passed the water can at mile 2 was wonderful.

        Finishing lap 13 meant I had 1.25 miles left to go and the race director and graciously set up a marker so that people going for a 50 mile plaque need only run to the 50 mile sign and back to finish their distance. This was what I planned, just get finished and call it a night. Then I spotted big Ed. Ed had been resting and could barely walk so he was moving at about my speed and had also completed 13 laps. We set off together into the dark and by the time we passed the 50 mile marker, he had talked me into completing the full lap to finish a double marathon distance. Now, big Ed had once been a RIO (navigator) in fighter planes, had worked for NASA, taught public school for 10 years, and is now retired. Ed made that last foray into the woods very entertaining by singing Korean War songs and telling me stories, but foolishly, I stopped thinking and relied on Ed to navigate our way around the last lap, you know, since he was a navigator and all. This was a mistake because by the time I realized we had taken a wrong turn, we were on the wrong side of the lake. I have no idea how far we went, but by the time we got back on track, we decided to just go back to camp. Poor Ed felt horrible for getting us lost, but I assured him that it was okay as he made my last miles very pleasant and I had met my 50 mile goal.

     I decided to stay the rest of the night. I wanted to see the finishers get in their last miles, keep the intrepid lap counters company, and watch the sun rise over the lake so I pulled up a chair and bundled into my sleeping bag.

    What I ended up doing was drinking a beer and falling asleep in my chair, dozing on and off while I listened to people talk and count off laps. Just after sun up, the track club president arrived with 4 dozen hot Krispy Kreme doughnuts! It was a perfect end to the day!

Course records were set for the men and the women, 125 and 101 miles respectively.

One week later, looking back

"The tasks are done and the tears are shed.Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover;Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled,Are healed with the healing that night has shed."  Sarah Chauncey Woolsey



      It has been one week today since I finished my first marathon and it has been the top of my mind all week. I’m still shocked when I see the medal hanging on my dresser mirror.
       The first couple of days were admittedly tough, my quads and hamstrings were very sore and going down stairs was a challenge (backwards didn’t help either.) This was put to the test on Tuesday night when I escorted 50 teenagers I was chaperoning down 3 flight of stairs, ACK! I made it though, with much laughter and hanging on to the banister rails. I did get on a stationary bike for 20 minutes on Monday, and I think that helped to loosen things up.

       By Wednesday I was down to a minimal level of soreness, not enough to affect movement, but I could still feel the miles a bit. My biggest fear about running a marathon was what the repercussions would be for my Rheumatoid Arthritis. I was prepared for a flare up, knowing it was a good possibility after pushing so hard for so long, but it never came.

       Thursday was my first recovery run following Hal Higdon’s reverse taper. It was a tough two miles. My legs felt like lead and I was as tired as I normally would be after 10 miles at a good pace. It definitely helped though, my legs felt good afterwards and I didn’t feel wiped out. I have to admit, breathing deep really made me feel the marathon. Although I was never to the point of huffing and puffing during the race, and I could always talk in sentences, I was obviously breathing harder than a walk in the park and my lungs and chest muscles were reminding me all 5 hours.

       Friday was a rest day and all soreness was long gone. I was starting to feel caught up on sleep (late nights Monday and Tuesday seriously put this off) but still a long way from truly recovered. I can certainly see why they say you need a day of rest for every mile you race, a marathon is not something you get over in a couple of days. (This does not mean no running for 26 days, just that you shouldn’t expect to be up to full mileage for that long.)

       Saturday I ran 3 more miles, feeling even stronger and no longer feeling it when I took a deep breath. The run went well and my dog was very happy to be out trotting through the neighborhood again.

       The schedule for today said “6-8 mile run”. I probably shouldn’t have actually gone as far as 6 miles since the schedule was set up for people that run a lot faster than me and can finish 6 miles in significantly less time, but I did it anyway. I included a lot of walking and chatted on the phone for a good part of it, but it was a comfortable run with a very low average heart rate.

        As for my feet, shins and calves; they recovered much faster than my upper legs. I really expected to have problems there considering the distance and the issues I have had over the last 6 months. My VFFs served me well, but I do look forward to my first truly barefoot marathon. I won’t try to predict when that will be, but it is part of my working plan to continue increasing my barefoot distance and the variety of surfaces I can handle running on. My 2 mile run on Thursday and the 6 miles today were both barefoot, compliments of the lovely weather. (Yesterday was a bit nippy so those 3 miles were in VFFs.)

          All and all I would say my first week post marathon went very well and to me that is the real telling of how I did with the marathon. Not only did I finish, but I finished without any injuries, did not cause a flare up of my RA, and am recovering like a typical marathon runner. What more could I ask for! If I never run any faster and never feel any better after a marathon, I will still be happy to run them. I already can barely remember the misery of those last 6 miles and this is coming from a woman who still remembers every contraction of delivering 2 babies! I will continue to follow the reverse taper schedule up to my Ultra on the 17th of April and then start it all over again. I don’t see this marathon as a onetime flash in the pan, I see it as the beginning of a new stage in my life that I hope will go on for many, many years.

           I certainly plan to train more for my next marathon and I hope eventually to cope better with The Wall. I read in Runner’s World that it takes the average person 4 full training cycles with races to really know what they are doing. I’m sure one never truly stops learning from each and every race, but it is the first few that really open your eyes and make you say, “Okay, NOW I get it!” I also had a great talk yesterday with the lady from my club who ran 50 marathons in 50 states. Picking her brain about her experiences during and after marathons was very encouraging. I’ve learned a ton about running a marathon this week, but I know the distance still has a great deal to teach me and I’m ready to learn!   .....But first I need a few more restful weeks of running to finish recovering :-)

5 wondrous hours

The challenge today will be summing up a 5 hour race in a blog entry that won’t take too long to read!

       After some scares with the extended forecast, the weather was absolutely perfect. Over 50 when we started and in the mid to upper 60’s by the end. Sun shining, not too much wind, just enough to cool you off when the sun started beating down and several lovely people had sprinklers on for us to run through!

      A total of 2,635 runners finished the marathon before the 7 hour cut off, so the start wasn’t even corralled. Everyone was great though, not too much weaving needed to keep moving. I started near the back knowing my first 2 or 3 miles would be a minute or so slower than my planned race pace to allow me to warm up and not take off to fast.

      Everything started out as planned. Fist we headed south, looped around a bit, went over a bridge to the first turn around point, back over the little bridge, no big deal. Next they took us through part of Camp Pendleton, including a stretch of gravel road that made me glad I had not opted to go totally barefoot. At about the 6 mile mark, I was chatting with a few people and found a running buddy for the day. James used to run marathons, but this was the first one in 5 years so he was taking it easy knowing he hadn’t trained well enough. We had the same planned pace so we just fell into step, talking and running, keeping one foot in front of the other. At around mile 13 we passed his wife and kids who were cheering him on. I waved and said, “He is keeping me going!” He responded, “I’m just trying to keep up with you!” Funny how having someone with you keeps you both motivated!

      At mile 14 we stopped at a porta potty that didn’t have much of a line. We lost a couple of minutes, but it was well worth it! It was really warming up and I was tempted to take on way too much water, but definitely didn’t want to have to stop at a potty again. Mile 15 to 16 is where the mental games started. Conversation had trailed off and I was really having a hard time staying in the game. I know I could keep going that it was all in my head, so I just kept up with James and tried not to think about the miles and my stomach that was threatening to rebel. At mile 19 my mental state perked up, but my body was spent. My brain was saying, YAY, but my body was screaming for mercy. By this time my Garmin was also about 2 tenths of a mile ahead of the markers, which meant I had zigzagged and not cut my tangents well so I’d be running 26.4 instead of 26.2, UGH!

     19.75 was my breaking point. I said good-bye to James and wished him luck and fell back into a walk. After about 5 minutes of walking, I tried a run again. I learned very quickly that the first few steps after walking are murder and it is like trying to run through a vat of tar! Fortunately, this is a good motivator to keep running, even if the run is only slightly faster than the walk. When I passed the clock at the 20 mile marker, it said 3:34. This would have been great if I could have maintained my pace, but at that point it became all about getting back to my car.

      The next 6 miles were the hardest thing I’ve even done. I hurt all over, everyone was shuffling along just trying to fight the pain. By the end of a marathon, you are very much in like company. Everyone around you has been out there for the same amount of time and everyone is hurting. Some people take it with a grain of salt and can still laugh and joke, others are grim and determined and snap at anyone that bumps them at a water stop or gets in their way. Looking up the street it looked like a death march, everyone moving forward, everyone walking, except for the occasional person that would break into a run for a few feeble minutes and then re join the ranks of the marchers. One girl that had been running next to me, veered off into the grass and threw up.

      As we turned left off the main street just before mile 26, and right again onto the board walk, everyone sprung back to life. Within my view were the people that were going to squeak in under the 5 hour mark and they weren’t going to miss it by walking the last .2!

      About 100 feet from the finish line, I spotted a camera man and raised my arms to cheer, and it hit me! I WAS ABOUT TO FINISH A MARATHON!!!! I punched the air with my right hand, then went into a frenzy punching with both fists and screaming YES! while I jumped in the air. I was shocked I had enough energy to do it! The whole crowd around me laughed out loud at my antics. I crossed the finish line beaming and began the collection of swag. First a medal, then a bottle of water, banana, hat, pretzels, granola bar, cookie, and finisher’s t-shirt, all with nothing to put it in so I was juggling so many things I couldn’t make use of any of them!

      I finally managed to stuff down the banana and cookie and bundle everything else up into a manageable mass while stumbled to the festival tent for soup and beer. In the tent I ran into a group of friends from my track club that had run the half. They were all excited for me and gave me lots of hugs and congratulations. After gratefully sucking down the salty soup broth it was time to head back to pick up my daughter on the way home. I wish I could have stayed and joined the party, but I was grateful that my daughter is old enough to spend a few hours alone and that my friend was willing to go out of her way to pick her up and take her to rehearsals so that I could be in Virginia Beach. For a woman with children, training for and running a marathon isn’t just about putting in the time and miles, it is about friends who are willing to help you get past the schedule conflicts so you can run!

      I did get a couple of comments on my VFFs and saw one other marathoner with them on. Mostly people asked how my feet felt. At first my answer was, “Great!” After 20 miles my answer was, “No worse than the rest of me!” At the end I finished with no blisters or hot spots. I admit, my feet were tender on the walk to the car, but frankly the rest of me hurt so much I didn’t really notice. As of this morning, I’m actually less sore than I was yesterday evening, which is a big surprise to me. My feet fell great, my quads and hamstrings are the sorest, and hip flexors are tight and sore, but no joint pain at all and nothing with the sharp pain of injury, just the slow burn of lactic acid. I’m tired and definitely will need a nap today, but I don’t regret running and can’t wait for the next one.
  Finish time:     4:54:49

Two Weeks to Shamrock '10!

“Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” Francis of Assisi




         I’m so close to the marathon it is scary! The hardest part of the taper is slowing my eating down as much as I have slowed my running and not running harder and faster as the miles decrease.

        Last weekend I had the privilege of running a 5K with a good friend Danielle. She was a cross country runner in high school, but family and life had gotten in the way and she hadn’t run in years. When she was diagnosed with RA she didn’t think she would ever run again. When we met, the fact that I run and have RA blew her away, she was so excited about the prospect of getting back into running and getting back into shape!

         On the day of Danielle’s 5K, I was scheduled for a 16 mile long run so I headed out to the base, ran 4 miles to warm up, and then met her at the 5K start. It had been many years since Danielle had run more than 2 straight miles, but she was determined to finish the 5K without walking. We took it very slow, between 13 and 14 minutes per mile, but she kept running. It was hard for me to imagine that last year at this time, I was training for my first half marathon on this same stretch of blacktop, running at that same pace. Now running that slow just about kills me and I see only a tiny difference in my heart rate by slowing down so dramatically. With only a few beats per minute more, I can run 11 minute miles now.

           We didn’t talk much during the 5K. I would let her know as each half mile mark chirped from my Garmin, but we just ran side by side. As we approached the end and could see the finish line, Danielle was brought to tears. She couldn’t believe she was going to do it, finish a 5K without walking! She choked up so badly she nearly had to walk! Fortunately, she was able to calm down and keep plugging away. We crossed the finish line somewhere around 40 minutes and she was ecstatic! Unfortunately her RA flared up a bit the next day because of the extreme effort, but it didn’t last and she is looking forward to the next 5K in a few weeks.

            It was such a wonderful thing to participate in that special event in her life. I may have been part of the spark that got her going, but the hard work and determination was all Danielle’s. I pointed out that it was almost 2 ½ years ago to the day that I ran my first ever 5K and now, in 2 weeks, I will run my first full marathon. I’m still constantly shocked at my own progress. Some days I feel like I only dreamed that 2 hour finish at the Outer Banks. When I run a 9 minute mile in training I think to myself, “Did I really run this fast for 2 straight hours!” I don’t think this is all that unusual. I think many of us constantly underestimate what our bodies can do. It is our minds that hold us back, not our muscles or bones.

         I realize now that when I run, I may be out there slogging away by myself, but I’m not running alone. When I cross that finish line in two weeks, I will cross it for every person diagnosed with RA, every middle ages house wife, every couch potato that is over 35 and wonders if it is not too late to get in shape. Getting out there as a real person, not some elite Olympian or lifelong runner with long lean muscles and years of training, shows people that marathons are for mortals. Normal people with a little grit and determination can do this. You don’t have to be fast, a 16 mpm average will get you over the line before the course closes. You do have to train, a LOT, marathons are not handed to you. Even walking for 26.2 miles is not something a person in good shape can just decide to do in an instant. It takes planning, hard work, and days of getting out there in all weather. Whether you feel like it or not you have to consistently put in the miles.

           So far this year I have kept up with my written log, recovered from nasty shin splints, and run just over 200 miles (20 of them barefoot). I believe I am a runner. I believe I can run a marathon. I believe I can inspire others to seek more from themselves. I started running because I needed to. I continued running because it helped me so much and I discovered it was something I COULD do for myself. And now, here I am, doing the impossible.

Once in a while you must amaze yourself!

          That 16 mile run really shook my confidence. I came away from it ready to give up on the marathon in March and put my goal off for another year. I felt like physically and mentally I could never have gone past 16 miles.

          The following week I ran the miles listed on the training plan, but the thought of an 18 mile run was simply beyond me. I ended up running 10, or really 2 fives because I ran the first 5, spent an hour waiting for and talking to my husband on Skype, and then ran 5 more. My RA was bothering me, I hadn’t slept, just felt really beaten and miserable.

           Early last week my track club had a meeting where our guest speaker was a woman that was recently awarded a trophy for having run at least one Marathon in each of the 50 states! To meet her, you would never guess she was so amazing. She does not consider herself an athlete and is very humble and grateful for the opportunities she has had. Her other great physical accomplishment is that she hiked the Appalachian trail in 2000. It took her 5 ½ months! When you meet someone like this, and they aren’t larger than life, don’t have an air of superiority surrounding them, and can just blend into any crowd or situation, you realize that achievement isn’t something you are born to. It isn’t something that should ever be taken for granted, or something that just happens. It is born of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears. Everyone has something extraordinary within them, but it takes the right combination of challenge, inspiration, and opportunity to bring it out. All three of these ingredients must be sought; they do not just get handed to you.

           After that meeting, I was once again pumped to run the marathon. I’ve been very irritated by my vacillating back and forth. To be so excited one minute and so defeated the next eats at me. I wanted to feel as excited while running as I did thinking about running and this was the first time those two points have diverged so far. At the end of the 16 mile run, I just wanted to cry and never run again and I had never felt like that at the end of a run, I always felt positive and anxious for my next run.

               So what to do? I started posting to a couple of key forums where I knew I would get bald honest feedback. I posted to the Runner’s World Marathoner’s page asking if I was crazy to try running 26.2 on so little training and with so many issues. I also posted to Hal Higdon’s forum asking if it would be reasonable to run the 20 miler one week early. I was not going to register for a marathon until I knew I could run 20 miles and I really wanted to get it behind me. I also wanted to schedule my 20 when I had nothing else going on so if I really wiped myself out, I could just rest and recover. I received many wonderful supportive messages. Even the ones suggesting I wait gave me good information to work with and helped my decision greatly. I decided to take one last shot at preparing for the marathon.

         When I headed out the door yesterday, it was in the mid 40’s and heading to the 50’s. The sun was out, people were out, and everyone was smiling! I had promised myself that I didn’t have to do 20. I could just go as far as I felt like going and there was no shame in cutting it short if I needed to. As I wound through the neighborhoods I felt strong and ready for many miles. After 6 miles I took my shoes off and ran the next two barefoot. It felt SO good! My feet are soft though from running so much in shoes so when they started feeling a little tender, I went ahead and put my VFFs back on. Around this time my daughter called me on my cell. I’m sure people passing by thought I was nuts for jogging and chatting, but it passed the next hour quickly and was almost as good has having her actually running with me.

           By the time I passed the 10 mile mark, I knew I had a shot at 20. I felt great mentally and physically and was ready to continue for 2 more hours so I headed for the yacht club at the far end of town. I haven’t run out there in nearly a year so it was a nice change of scenery. Once I got to the marina, I stopped in the public restroom for a pit stop and to refill my water bottles. I was really regretting not taking a couple of gels with me. I had planned to just run 5 mile laps and stop at the house each time so I hadn’t stuffed my pockets properly.

           When I turned around to head back, I realized I would be running into the wind all the way home. I hadn’t noticed the wind up to that point so it wasn’t all that strong, but it was enough to make me zip up my vest, put my gloves back on, and pull my sleeves back down. It didn’t slow me down though. I stuck to my plan of running around 11 to 11.5 minute miles and then walking until it averaged out at 12 minute miles.

            When I hit 16 miles I was entering new territory, 4 miles left to go and feeling tired, but good. At 17 miles I was getting a bit worried. I was now 3 miles from the house so I had to finish 20 one way or the other. At 18 miles I was approaching the wall. My quads and back were starting to hurt, my claves were tight, and my shin was started to act up; 2 more miles to go.

            When I turned onto my very familiar street, I was elated. The end was in sight and I was feeling very mentally positive, if physically exhausted. Those last two miles were tough, but still not as tough as the last two of the 16 miler in the snow and sleet. I was home free and felt like I had climbed the highest mountain!

           When I finally stumbled through the front door I was over the moon! My legs were twitching, I was starving, thirsty, and my muscles felt like rocks. I peeled off the outer layers of stinky tech clothes, took a couple of minutes to stretch, downed a protein shake and a bowl of cereal, and made myself a drink to sip at while I iced my calf in front of the computer. And then I registered for my first full marathon!

           I really amazed myself yesterday, which is something we all need to do from time to time. We need to stretch our wings, set impossible goals, and then reach them. We need to know we are better than the doubting voices in our heads, those little gremlins that make us want to give up or say, “I could never do that.” Three years ago, if someone had told me I would run 20 miles and register for a marathon, I would have thought they were daft! To me marathons were for crazy people that were wrecking their health. Well, maybe I’m crazy now, but I’ve never felt better in my life!

Biting off a bit too much

It doesn't work to leap a twenty-foot chasm in two ten-foot jumps. American Proverb


Biting off more than I can chew is a common theme in my life. Most of the time I can chew fast enough to survive, but sometimes I just have to spit it out and start over.


After my first 10 mile long run of the year I thought to myself, “Hey, maybe I can jump into an entry level marathon training plan and run the Shamrock Full.” I was already trained for HM distance with runs up to 14 miles, so why not just keep going. I decided if I could finish a 15 mile long run and still walk, I would register for the full marathon. Of course, this is a bad time of year for weather and running barefoot or in my Vibram Five Fingers (VFF) is not possible most days, so a little over 2 weeks ago I put on my trail shoes and hit the road in the rain. It is possible to run with near barefoot form in a minimal show if you pay attention, but apparently I was not paying enough attention because by the end of the 4 mile run my shins were tender.


I haven’t had shin splints in a long time and running barefoot has never caused shin splints so I figured if I ran in my VFFs for my long run the next day, I would be okay. It was a total rookie mistake. Although I believe very fervently in barefoot and minimal shoe running, it is not a panacea and you can still easily do too much too soon. I might have been okay with a 15 mile run if I hadn’t spent the morning standing and freezing to death working the finish line of a 10K first. Shivering takes a lot out of you and running when you are tired tends to ruin your form, not a good combination. I went running anyway and after my 15 mile run that afternoon my calves felt like rocks and my shin was very sore. The next morning I could hardly walk because of the shin splint in my right leg, so I did not register for the marathon and took the next two days off.


I should have waited until all the soreness cleared up, but I didn’t. I went for a 4 mile run on Tuesday. It went okay and although my shin was slightly sorer in the morning, it wasn’t as sore as it had been the morning after my 15 miler so I somehow convinced myself that this meant running was helping. When the thermometer hit 50 degrees with dry roads and sunshine, I went for a barefoot run and ran for 8 miles. This was like throwing gasoline on a fire. I could feel burning in my shin, but still thought I could work around it. I finished the 8 miles, but the next morning my shins were horrible again. I never realized just how bad shin splints could get since I’ve never been able to see evidence of one from the outside, but after the 8 mile run my shin looked like someone had hit me with a baseball bat. I had a huge goose egg on the front of my shin and swelling from the top of my ankle to half way to my knee.


I decided it was time to get serious about healing and took the rest of the week off and didn’t try running again until this past Wednesday, nearly a full week. This time I just tried a 3 mile run and it went well. Not totally free of tenderness, but it didn’t seem to make it worse either. The next day I tried 5 miles, still so far so good. I took Friday off and like a total moron resumed my marathon training schedule and ran 16 miles Saturday. It went surprisingly well and probably would have been fine if I had stopped at 14, but of course, I didn’t. I wish I knew what my driving force was because I need to turn it off once in a while. I was miserable, the falling rain and snow mix stung my face, and I hurt all over from being tense. I finished though, all 16 miles. The walk breaks were more frequent at the end and I was down to a 13 minute mile, but I kept plodding until it was done.


This morning my shin hurts and is swollen again so I still haven’t registered for the marathon. I can’t imagine adding another 10 miles to my run 6 weeks from now. Of course, my shin isn’t anywhere near as sore as it was after my 15 mile run, so there is still a part of my brain taunting me and telling me I can do this. I wish I could shut that part up and just let my leg heal. I need to learn when to quit, but I know darn well that I’ll run again on Tuesday after a 2 day rest, and that if I can run Saturday morning, I’ll run another long run. And if I can run after that, I may still register for the full marathon. I know; I’m insane. 18, 14, 20, 12, 8, those are the long runs left on the schedule. I don’t know if I can do them. I don’t know if I even WANT to do them, but I won’t stop trying. I’m still planning on the 24-hour relay in April so I still need to keep adding mileage.

I hadn’t broadcast my intentions about the Shamrock full because I know I’m not really ready and with RA, I need to be more than ready. It just seems like I should try to get my first out of the way in a local race and before we leave the country again. Often announcing a commitment will also make me push myself way too hard, although it worked for me with my first half marathon. The bottom line is that I have too many other things going on in my life to sacrifice them all to meet a goal I am not ready for. I may yet run the full marathon, I may not. It may sell out before I make a decision, but that is okay, there will be others later when I’m more prepared. The only promise I make is that I won’t give up, and that I will work on respecting my body and its limits, which at this point seems harder than actually running 26.2.

2010 is underway

“The only thing we know about the future is that it will be different,” Peter Drucker



When I write a blog, I often start with a quote that reflects my point or feelings. Sometimes I can’t find anything on the subject at hand, other times there are endless choices to be waded though. It all depends on how many people take issue with it. Change was my key word today, a very popular topic, ruminated on by great minds with statements on both the positive and negative aspects. One thing they all agree on is that change is inevitable and necessary.


Every year is fraught with change, but some years bring bigger changes than others and with it comes stress and the need to protect oneself from the ravages of chaos. My faith protects my soul, but running protects my body and keeps my mind steady. As wimpy as this sounds, my resolution for 2010 is to keep a running log. I don’t want to make grand promises that I can’t keep in the way of distances or times, but writing everything down will be a challenge and will help to keep me on track. I plan to log levels of stress and emotions along with my miles and heart rates. I do have a goal for 1,000 miles this year, but it isn’t a resolution, just a starting point.


This past week I did my first two runs since Chiang Mai. The first 3 mile run was horrible. My legs felt like lead, my heart rate was high, I was out of breath, and felt like a brand new runner. My calves were tight and my ankles were griping by the end. There is a big price when you take a couple of weeks totally off of running, and exercise in general. I did a lot of walking, but not nearly enough to compensate.


My second run was a thousand times better! I felt good and strong and enjoyed it. Unfortunately, it took me so long to get out the door that I could only squeeze in 3 miles, but it was above 50 degrees so I ran them barefoot. My feet have softened up a lot since November, but it felt so good to feel the ground! I had no pain or tightness though; calves were good, as were ankles and knees.


My running club has a few races in the next couple of months, so I’ll run some for fun, but my next A race will be the 24 hour Relay for Life in Hampton. I’ll have 24 hours to knock out all the miles I can, but I can take breaks, naps, meals, and walk with friends along the way. I definitely plan to exceed the marathon distance, am really shooting for 35 miles, but my pie-in-the-sky goal is 50 miles. It will all largely depend on how my training goes for the next couple of months and the weather on race day. I can pitch a tent at the check-in point and each loop is only 3 ¾ miles long, so there are plenty of opportunities to change clothes, gear, shoes, etc. and I won’t need a chase team like I would in a big Ultra. The race is April 17th, 2 days before Rusty is scheduled to board the freedom plane for home. It will be a great way to close out this deployment!


So where do the big changes come in? Of course Rusty coming home will be huge, but it will be more of a return to normalcy than real change. The big change is that we are slated to move this summer. Not just move house, or to a different state, but to Osan, Korea. The other big change is that our oldest daughter is engaged to be married in May. She has been in Florida since August, but it didn’t feel like she had left home because all her stuff is still here, her room is still the way she left it, and at some point she would come home. Now she is coming home only briefly to take it all away and become a grown up. It will be really hard to leave her behind to travel almost half way around the world, but it is wonderful to know she won’t be alone.


In the midst of all this turmoil it will be a real challenge to get my miles in, but it will be crucial to keeping my sanity and maintaining control over my RA. Other than some protesting joints from hauling luggage on and off carts, the trip to Thailand wasn’t too hard on my RA so I am hopeful I will continue to be successful in keeping it at bay through 2010.


Running is what is making the move to Korea possible. With Rheumatoid Arthritis, I should be disqualified from accompanying my husband, largely because they do not have a rheumatologist on staff. However, when my husband contacted the person in charge of signing the necessary waiver, he was able to add that I ran 3 half marathons this year, with my fastest being sub 2 hours. The doc was impressed (his best time was a few seconds slower than mine), and said if my RA is under control enough to allow me to train for endurance races, then there was no reason to say I couldn’t come to Korea. YAY!! I knew running was helping me, but I had no idea how far that help would go!


So my future is packed with change. I can’t even picture my life 8 months from now. All I know is I will be putting one foot in front of the other, and writing it down in my log book, adding up my miles, and looking ahead to new challenges. Hmmmm, maybe I’ll shoot for the Seoul Marathon for 2011…



PS, just got in from a 10 mile run, it was great!!