Sometimes you just need a good, swift kick in the arse to get you going. I know this about myself. I know I have good intentions and fail on the execution. Alot.
Like on Friday. I got up and thought, "I am going on a run at lunch time. So I won't shower this morning. I'll put on my sports bra and running shirt, and be ready to go when I get a break from work." Around 6pm, I look up from my computer, all stinky from lack of showering, all chaffed from wearing spandex all day, and all stiff from not making it out the door. Luckily, I look and smelled like I had exercised, so Chris never knew the difference. . .
When I signed up a month ago for another round of Team in Training to train for the Wildflower Half Ironman triathlon, I was well aware this type of day would come. It always does. The only way to combat this kind of day, is to sign yourself up for a team that has scheduled trainings where your friends expect you to be there. And because I am not beyond letting my friends down from time to time (sorry guys), I have to take the extra measure of publicly committing to all of my friends and family that I will train and fundraise for this event. There is nothing like public shame to motivate.
And now you can help with the swift kick and the public shaming, by helping me with my fundraising efforts for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. Please won't you consider a tax-deductible donation to help find a cure for blood cancers? At least 75% of your donation goes directly to patient services and research to find a cure for diseases that an estimated 957,902 people in the United States are living with, or are in remission from. Every four minutes, someone new is diagnosed with blood cancer. Every 10 minutes, someone dies.
These statistics are always staggering to me every time I read them. And recently, I just learned that a friend's sister-in-law was diagnosed with an advanced case of non-hodgkin's lymphona. So many people I know are affected by these diseases. It's hard to ignore it. It's hard to not do something about it. It's kind of like a swift kick.
So wind up that foot, and give me a swift kick, won't you?
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Woefully Delayed Race Report and Thank You
It's 2011. And my first new years resolution is to be more diligent about my writing. And since I pretty much gave up on this very same resolution fairly early on in 2010, I'm going to make good for last year and catch up on this blog.
I failed to write a report on my Chicago Marathon experience in October. So without further delays:
My last training run 3 weeks before the race went really well. 21.5 miles and I was still smiling and walking the next day. My training ladies came out and kept me company on the cold, wet day. I was feeling pretty good about it all. But then about 2 weeks before the race, my plantar fascitis flared up. I wasn't able to walk without pain. I couldn't sleep because of it. I started to freak out a bit. I went to see Dr. R who told me to not run for the next two weeks, to ice daily, and to take a deep breath. He said, "You can run the race, but it's going to hurt." Hard to get excited about that.
But we packed our bags and headed to Chicago. We ended up staying right downtown, very close to the race finish. The city was buzzing with skinny people in sneakers. I spent the two days before the race icing, massaging, and trying to stay calm. My foot still hurt, but I was determined to do the race.
On race morning, we got up at some ungoldy hour, and walked the .5 mile to the race start in the dark. I met up with the Chicago Diabetes group, for whom I had been fundraising. My foot was aching, and my stomach was in knots by the time I got to the start line. Chris kissed me a on the check and left me to face my challenge all alone -- alone with 40,000 other people.
It took about 25 minutes to get to the start line, which was surprisingly short given how far back I was in the pack. But I took off slowly, sticking to my plan to run/walk the whole race to give my foot a break. 8 minutes of running, 1 minute of walking. Repeat about 25 times and then I'm done.
The sun had risen by the time I started running, and a smile emerged across my face. I felt pretty good. My pain in my foot had stopped aching. I stopped at the bathroom around mile 6 and remember thinking, OK, this isn't going to be so bad! Then I put my headphones back in and headed off dodging people all the way as I picked up my pace every so slightly. The crowds cheering us on were amazing.
Then about half a mile later, my foot started aching. And then the front of my shin started seizing up. I had to slow to a halt and stretch it out. This was an entirely new pain. A few minutes on the side of the road, and it was gone. OK. minor set back. Still on schedule to meet my goal of 4:29 (to beat Katie Holmes). Still feeling mentally strong.
10 minutes later, the pain came back. Instead of 8 min of walking 1 minute of running, I was running 8 minutes, and stopping and stretching for 2 or 3 even 5 min at a time. But some how, I kept it together. Just one foot in front of the other. Stop and stretch, but keep moving forward. This is pretty much how the remaining 20 miles went. The temperature was rising quickly, topping out around 84. I concentrated on staying hydrated and just moving forward.
Everyone says that around mile 20, you hit a wall and you don't want to go on. But I never really did. I knew I was going to finish, was determined to finish, and in fact, by mile 22, I knew I wanted to do a marathon again. I knew could do better, and most importantly, I knew that was not going to beat Katie Holmes, so I had to do it again! I saw Chris and my friend Marion finally around mile 21. Ran and gave them a hug and then kept on running/limping/stretching.
The marathon is an interesting emotional experience. After a while, you're sort of out of your body, just observing the pain, observing your emotional ups and downs. You find that trying to keep up with the woman in the pink shirt turns out to be the most important thing ever. And that seeing the guy running with an 8 foot Eiffel Tower costume on really pisses you off. You find the fact that the race has run out of bananas hysterical. And you find it perfectly acceptable that you are eating food from random strangers on the side of the road. Even seeing the man who had fallen down and was bleeding 250 ft from the finish line was mildly entertaining. Things aren't quite normal in this marathon state. Events seem to take a back seat to emotions.
Somewhere around mile 24 my right contact came out of my eye. I ran for about a mile winking and running into people. Finally stopped and managed to put it back in, more annoyed by the sweat in my eye than the fact I couldn't see. Somewhere around mile 25, I bit the bejezus out of my cheek and was dripping blood down my lip. And somewhere around mile 26, crossed the finish line.
I don't really remember too much in the last few miles, but I do remember crossing the finish line having to fight back a few tears as I had my photo taken with my medal. And then I remember being really pissed off that I had to have a new found respect for Katie Holmes, by 4 minutes.
Anyhow, I really enjoyed the race. Chicago is beautiful. The race is well run, and there were people on every block of the the 26 miles to cheer us on. It was a great first (but not last!) marathon experience. Thanks to everyone who donated to my fundraising, too!
I failed to write a report on my Chicago Marathon experience in October. So without further delays:
My last training run 3 weeks before the race went really well. 21.5 miles and I was still smiling and walking the next day. My training ladies came out and kept me company on the cold, wet day. I was feeling pretty good about it all. But then about 2 weeks before the race, my plantar fascitis flared up. I wasn't able to walk without pain. I couldn't sleep because of it. I started to freak out a bit. I went to see Dr. R who told me to not run for the next two weeks, to ice daily, and to take a deep breath. He said, "You can run the race, but it's going to hurt." Hard to get excited about that.
But we packed our bags and headed to Chicago. We ended up staying right downtown, very close to the race finish. The city was buzzing with skinny people in sneakers. I spent the two days before the race icing, massaging, and trying to stay calm. My foot still hurt, but I was determined to do the race.
 |
| Pre-race jitters |
It took about 25 minutes to get to the start line, which was surprisingly short given how far back I was in the pack. But I took off slowly, sticking to my plan to run/walk the whole race to give my foot a break. 8 minutes of running, 1 minute of walking. Repeat about 25 times and then I'm done.
The sun had risen by the time I started running, and a smile emerged across my face. I felt pretty good. My pain in my foot had stopped aching. I stopped at the bathroom around mile 6 and remember thinking, OK, this isn't going to be so bad! Then I put my headphones back in and headed off dodging people all the way as I picked up my pace every so slightly. The crowds cheering us on were amazing.
Then about half a mile later, my foot started aching. And then the front of my shin started seizing up. I had to slow to a halt and stretch it out. This was an entirely new pain. A few minutes on the side of the road, and it was gone. OK. minor set back. Still on schedule to meet my goal of 4:29 (to beat Katie Holmes). Still feeling mentally strong.
10 minutes later, the pain came back. Instead of 8 min of walking 1 minute of running, I was running 8 minutes, and stopping and stretching for 2 or 3 even 5 min at a time. But some how, I kept it together. Just one foot in front of the other. Stop and stretch, but keep moving forward. This is pretty much how the remaining 20 miles went. The temperature was rising quickly, topping out around 84. I concentrated on staying hydrated and just moving forward.
 |
| I'm in there somewhere, about to cross the finish line! |
Everyone says that around mile 20, you hit a wall and you don't want to go on. But I never really did. I knew I was going to finish, was determined to finish, and in fact, by mile 22, I knew I wanted to do a marathon again. I knew could do better, and most importantly, I knew that was not going to beat Katie Holmes, so I had to do it again! I saw Chris and my friend Marion finally around mile 21. Ran and gave them a hug and then kept on running/limping/stretching.
The marathon is an interesting emotional experience. After a while, you're sort of out of your body, just observing the pain, observing your emotional ups and downs. You find that trying to keep up with the woman in the pink shirt turns out to be the most important thing ever. And that seeing the guy running with an 8 foot Eiffel Tower costume on really pisses you off. You find the fact that the race has run out of bananas hysterical. And you find it perfectly acceptable that you are eating food from random strangers on the side of the road. Even seeing the man who had fallen down and was bleeding 250 ft from the finish line was mildly entertaining. Things aren't quite normal in this marathon state. Events seem to take a back seat to emotions.
Somewhere around mile 24 my right contact came out of my eye. I ran for about a mile winking and running into people. Finally stopped and managed to put it back in, more annoyed by the sweat in my eye than the fact I couldn't see. Somewhere around mile 25, I bit the bejezus out of my cheek and was dripping blood down my lip. And somewhere around mile 26, crossed the finish line.
I don't really remember too much in the last few miles, but I do remember crossing the finish line having to fight back a few tears as I had my photo taken with my medal. And then I remember being really pissed off that I had to have a new found respect for Katie Holmes, by 4 minutes.
Anyhow, I really enjoyed the race. Chicago is beautiful. The race is well run, and there were people on every block of the the 26 miles to cheer us on. It was a great first (but not last!) marathon experience. Thanks to everyone who donated to my fundraising, too!
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