The past few days have been indescribable. The good, the bad, and the ugly have all reared their heads and I am looking them straight in the eye unblinking. Today was a beautiful day weather-wise, but it went completely through me.
I had already run once this morning with my beloved BOMF team, but my energy levels were still high. After running around doing errands I was already in the neighborhood so I decided to run the water promenade along the harbor.
I parked on Key Highway and started my run at Rash Field. I had a lot of thinking to do and running is my go-to source to process it. When I started out I was already feeling the impact of my day.
I was bopping along listening to my tunes feeling good. I made it a point to look at every person I passed. Some were walking with their heads down, others were looking straight a head, and a few looked right at me. The ones that looked at me, I looked right back and smiled and said 'hello'. Maybe they thought I was insane, still I connected with them.
Happiness continued to creep in and I felt weightless as I ran along. A man, on his own run, was coming towards me. I did something I rarely do especially to a total stranger; I extended my hand for a passing high-five. He half-heartedly fived me back, but we connected and I zapped him with my energy.
Next as I wound along what paths I could that kept me close to the water, I ran past a group of construction workers. We all know construction workers are notorious for hooting and hollering at women running or walking by. I used to just duck my head and do my best to ignore them. Today was different. Today I looked right back at the workers and smiled. One hispanic man looked at me and I smiled right back at him with my whole body. He said, "Boy you have a pretty smile!" I felt that smile and loved it!
I intended to go out for 17 minutes and turn around. I figured a 34 minute run would give me about 4 miles. When I reached the approximate 17 minute mark I was just about to pass a dock that extended off a point. I ran out to the end of the wooden dock and stopped. Coincidentally my iPod died just then. Where I stood, it was as if I was surrounded by water and city. I stood at the edge of it all. I took in my surroundings and the gentle, chilly breeze that blew right through me. That's when I heard it: Pay attention.
The voice was in my head. I knew I had to listen to it.
I set out the way I came. Not entirely sure where I was, I knew as long as I stayed close to the water I was fine. By the water, though, made me better than fine, it made me happy. En route on my return, I hear another voice, 'This day is important' and I knew that it was.
I chewed on these two phrases for a while and as I approached the end of my run; that's when I had my last encounter.
Just in front of the Science Center I was coming upon a young couple walking with their toddler daughter. The little girl probably just started to walk a few months ago and both parents were walking slowly with her holding her hands. Rationally I know they were talking to the little girl, but the words seemed to be said in my direction. This may not even be what they really said, but this is what I heard, "She's trying". They said it a few times and the words were picked up by the wind and carried my way.
I am paying attention to this important day and I am trying to listen and do what needs to be done. Another run towards clarity logged in.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Speed Queen and Rocket Girl
SQ was immediately assigned the role of my big sister-a role she happily accepts. A superball of energy herself, SQ is a non-stop postive source and I was having a blast running some incredibly technical trails at Gunpowder with her today.
We set out up a very steep hill and my first thought was, she's trying to kill me! True to a little sister's mentality, I thought, "I can do anything you can do" so RG pushed through and hung with SQ. We danced and skipped up and down hills strewn with loose rocks and roots galore. Like ninjas, we lightly bound across water, over holes, and over fallen trees.
One particular hill was incredibly treacherous. We flew down a steep hillside that was more like randomly placed steps made of roots. SQ bound down in an effortless form, I followed suit and jumped and hopped down the hill at full speed. When flying like that down a hillside with hairpin turns and ample roots, its impossible to slow up. It is dire you must remain fleet-footed, and sharp-witted.
When we reached the bottom of what could have easily ended in death or disfigurement, SQ stops, raises her arms in victory and says, "Yay! A girl who can trail-run with me!" and gives me a big hug. Yup, she's my kind of girl-never misses a moment to revel in lifes glories. We're alive!!!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
A religious experience: Loch Raven trail-running
The solitude involved with trail running is something that takes a period of adjustment. Being alone in your head can be somewhat overwhelming at times. As you wind along the paths covered in leaves, roots, rocks and soft earth, your body relaxes and thoughts sort themselves out as they neatly line up to be addressed one by one.
When I run the trails I wear my watch, but I do not time it. I only need a rough estimate on the time I leave and when I return. Though I am curious to my exact distance and pace, it's almost better to run on trails naked, so to speak.
It is mandatory you stay in tune your body so that you are aware of your footing, your balance, and your surroundings. I do not run with headphones in the woods, all my senses are in use and I don't want anything to dampen my experience. Unless I know exactly where I am going and for how long, I usually take water with me. Part of the enjoyment in trail running comes from the unknown and if I'm going to get lost I need to be prepared.
Every time I head out, I hope to find a new path. Today I discovered not only a new path but an entire loop. When I come to forks and crossroads I give myself only a split second to decide: right, left, or straight. I don't pick the hardest or the easiest path, nor do I pick the one that looks the most-traveled. I just pick the one that seems to fit.
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| view from the Dog Grave as I sit on the bench |
Three points of interest today: The first I already anticipated. It's referred to as the Dog Grave. Only ten minutes of running from my house and you can reach it. The Dog Grave is an area that is well-worn. In a corner, under a tree, lies a pile of dog toys and a stepping stone with a small memorial to a man's best friend. Directly 180 degrees from the grave is a make-shift bench between two trees. The bench overlooks a great watery expanse. For me, it is a must to sit here for a minute and take in the scenery.
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| Humbling expanse of trees |
The second point of interest is a little harder to describe. As I go up and down hills I am reveling at the size of the trees and the extent to which they expand. I stop for a moment and look up and out at the trees as they go on as far as the eye can see. I suddenly feel dwarfed by my surroundings. I come to my first four-way trail intersection. Merely listening to my internal compass, I turn left and head up the winding path through the ominous forest.
The third point happened by accident. I didn't know when I turned left at the intersection that I would find my way back into familiar territory. Nothing in the scenery clearly presented this evidence, but I felt like I've been here before. As I run, I take in my surroundings and, based only on intuition, I can immediately sense that if I keep going I will end up where I started. That's when I pass one of my favorite 'off the beaten path' paths. It took me a minute to realize what it was since I was coming from the other direction.
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| On top of the world |
A smile spreads across my face and I turn down my path. The wind picks up as I go along. Wind is a common occurence along this path because you are essentially running along the top of a hill unshielded in any direction. I come to my rocky end. I stand there for a minute and feel as if I am standing on top of the world. I have stood on my peak many times before and held a plethora of private thoughts. Though the wind numbs my face, I let out a sigh of gratitude for what I hold today. Thank God for this; I turn back.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Bass Pro Marathon: The lesser-known marathon
As we drive, William and Caden shout out mile markers. Huge numbers were hung on scaffolding. I heard they were big, but I had no idea how much. Getting tired of being in the car, we make it to mile 23 before we decide to forget the last few and head to the expo to pick up my race stuff.
We quickly learn that 'expo' and 'packet pick-up' are one in the same. With just a few shirts hung on racks, the two boys are disappointed in the free schwag they receive at the much anticipated expo-a pencil and a sticker.
Race day
Getting things organized and still playing mother in the AM, I am suddenly feeling the anxiety of getting not just me, but several other people ready and out the door on time. With strong urging on my part, I push everyone out the door at 6:15; we arrive at 6:30--no traffic, no problem parking. Race starts at 7:00. Where is everybody?
I have Danielle drop me off right in front of the porta-potties. No lines here either and tons of options. Where is everybody? It's cold, so I head inside the main entrance to Bass Pro.
It's cold and I start out pretty fast. I kept checking in with myself to be sure my pace was comfortable and not beyond something I could hold. After the first few miles I am holding an 8:15 pace. I am seeded as the fourth female. Knowing there is plenty of race left, I try not to get too wrapped up in placement.
At mile 6 I see my mother, brother, and sister in law sitting on a hillside opposite the street I'm on. I spot them before they see me. I enthusiastically wave my arms and shout, "Good Morning!" in my most sing-song voice.
Again at mile 10, I see the same crew and wave excitedly at them. Then, as I cross Glenstone, my mother is standing next to the scaffolding of mile 13 with camera in hand. I see no sign of the gatorade I gave her. "Gatorade?" I ask. "Up ahead" she replies. I scan ahead and see nothing. I hear, "Erin!" and I stop and turn back.
"What?!"
"Nothing, just keep going!"
What the heck does she think I'm doing?! I see my younger brother Conor and Hannah and try again, "Gatorade?" Hannah proceeds to hand me the bottle. "Open it" I bark not trying to be rude, just efficient. "Pour" I demand. Hannah dumps it in my water bottle.
The race is starting to wear on me now. I force myself to eat my kibble and am fighting boredom. It's such a small race and the runners have all spread out, so there is hardly anyone around. People are kind and come out of their houses to clap a few times and halfheartedly say, "Nice job". I quickly figure out though, that I must draw from my own love to uplift my spirits.
My mom and crew are out at mile 16. I'm so glad she could make it to so many miles to see me. To lift my own spirits, I say to them with a slight hint of sarcasm, "You guys should try this, its fun!"
You would think I was forced to do this against my will. The mental aspect of the race was in full swing now and I am severely under-trained in this category. I have nothing to draw from. I try to picture my friend Mitch's silly(editor's addendum: very good-looking and youthful) face distracting me from the torture. I think about Christian smiling and saying, "You look good, honey. Go get 'em." For the first time in my marathon I say out loud, "Where are you Dave?"
Mile 18 sucks. I'm in a part of town which I never liked before and have no memories to draw from. I see my older brother Brandon with my sweet little nephew Elijah standing on the corner. "Gatorade", I say, "Open it...pour". Mmmm, nothing like salty gatorade to make you want to sit down and give up. Yuck!At this point things start to hurt. My knees cringe, my hips ache, and the unmentionable area is in agony. I try to talk to myself, but my brain has already called it a day. If I can just break up the rest of the race based on who's where and what's left maybe the race won't seem so daunting.
As glad as I am my dearest friends and family came out to provide support, I am struggling to be uplifted by their presence. They are breaking up the race to give me something to look forward to, but the boost I receive from them is too short-lived to pull much motivation from. "Dave, where are you?"
I rehearsed moments like this in the race. Before this day, I was planning to think about the yummy chocolate milk at the finish line, the one-of-a-kind gifted shirt waiting for me in my post-race bag, my sweet William's face who will be glad to be back in his mommy's care. Why couldn't I summon them up?
After two more miles, Stacey and Chris are the last of my support. I hand Stacey my empty water bottle and say hello to Chris. Just after passing them, Chris's song, 'Spark' comes on my ipod. The man's got talent and I feel happy for a moment.
My chest tightens, I feel the tears welling up. I fight the urge to cry, I need to stay calm and breathe normally; hyperventilating is not a good idea at this point. "Dave, get me through this." I whimper aloud.
The last two miles were like eternity. Winding through a neighborhood I was unfamiliar with I had no idea what to expect. Since we skipped this portion of the course drive, I didn't know how many turns there were. Each turn put more stress on my legs. If I could just go straight it was bearable, but turning required more weight on one leg and, of course, the pitch in the road changed as well.
I see a little boy from behind on the sidewalk. He looks just like William and I have to fend off tears once more. My heart aches to see him, I simply must get to the finish and find him!
With less than a mile and half to go, I see two marathoners walking. "C'mon guys, lets go!" I say ordering them to move. They both instantly pick it up and we three run strong. I see the 26 mile banner along a fence and I kick it in with all I have left. The two guys follow suit and stick with me.
Hugs all around and congratulations from everyone. I stand around for a bit and talk to everyone, but my legs start to scream at me, so I tell them I have to keep walking. I walk though the post-race festival.
"Beef stick?!" I give the insane man a look of disgust. "After a marathon? No thanks". Yeah, that's what someone who just finishes a marathon wants - beef stick!
Danielle hands me my bag of clothes and I head inside Bass Pro to find a bathroom to change in.The crowds of shoppers give me sideways looks as I fight my way past wearing my mylar cape, knee-high compression socks and salt-encrusted face. I finally find the bathroom and head into the handicap stall. I figured I'm pretty physically inept at this point and really need the extra room to change.
I slowly take off my drenched marathon wardrobe. As I put on my dry clothes I get to my 'new' shirt. I hold Coolman's Last Stand up and take a good look at it. I'm tired, I'm beaten, nothing on my body wants to work. Though unhappy with my time, I am so glad I did it and so proud of finishing. I tried to take my running friends with me during my race. Mitch pushes me to a faster pace, Christian inspires me to go the distance.
My marathon, and really life in general, is about the journey and not the finish line. No matter how you get there or how long it takes you, it is important to savor the moments during. Finishing is a gift that allows you to reflect back on how far you've come. However, the adventure doesn't end when you finish the race. The finish line just gives you experience and knowledge for your next event.
Dave may not be able to run with me, but he was there pulling me through my race. Now that I finished the Springfield Marathon, it's time I find something closer to home and put Dave on the 26.2 mile marker for real!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
A giraffe determines the outcome of my race
"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start"-John Bingham of the Penguin Chronicles.
As some already know, my training has taken a beating due to a foot injury. I haven't logged in the amount of miles I had originally intended. The Baltimore Half-Marathon was not THE race I am training for, but it quickly became an event I needed to do well in to boost my running spirits and get my marathon-head back in the game.
My good friend and running partner Mitch had more confidence in me then I did. He thought we could break 1:45, but I insisted on only beating my previous Baltimore Half time of 1:51.
The Baltimore Half-Marathon
Refusing to rush the start line, I walked to the start while Mitch and Judy tried to encourage me to run. I am a firm believer there is no point to rush a chip-timed start when all you will end up doing is fighting the thick of the crowd; I run when I cross the mats!
As the first few miles rolled on, Mitch ran slightly in front of me in what he thought was an incentive for me to catch him. I rebelled against the pressure and stuck to my own comfortable pace. Turns out my comfortable pace for the first few miles was an 8:15. As long as my foot didn't act up, I felt I had a good chance of beating my PR (1:46).
Around mile three was where the full marathon and relay converges with the half. Being a four-year Baltimore half-marathon veteran I knew better then to bum rush that water stop; it's total chaos at that point. Still feeling good and keeping my eye on Mitch in front, I sink into a good race pace. It was around mile four, after all the runners from the various events were seeded, that I see Jeff.
Jeff (or Whit) is one of my teammates from Back On My Feet. He is a rez-member who was running his first full marathon today. He was on mile 17 and was walking and looking very glum.
Now, first let me give you a background on Jeff: He is tall and lean and born to run. He makes running look effortless and he has pulled me through several runs including two long and painful 17 milers. He recently won his age group at the Tunnel Run 5K with a time of 19:38. He is an amazing runner, who only the night before, spoke of qualifying for Boston in his first marathon (3:35).
I was instantly drawn to Jeff when I first started running with BOMF. He is gentle and sweet and always incredibly polite. He lights up my morning when I come to run with team MCVET in the pitch dark at 5:30 am. When we run, I chat, and he's silent. For every three steps I take, he takes one. Still, we seem to be in sync.
When I saw Jeff walking and wearing an expression of defeat I yelled ahead to Mitch. He turns around and I shout, "Jeff!". Instantly, we are both at Jeff's side.
"What do you need? Did you eat? How much have you drunk?"
I have learned that my race performance is better when I take in two GUs, but I have certainly survived on less. I pull one of my GUs from my pocket, tear off the top and hand it to Jeff. "Let's go", I say. Jeff starts to run.
Not knowing if I am helping or hurting , I try to distract him from his misery. I tell him exactly what I think he is: A Giraffe. Why? A giraffe is tall and lean. A giraffe is graceful, gentle, and quiet. A giraffe is a harmless creature, but when it runs, it glides across the land and covers great distances in effortless form on its long, skinny legs.
My race was no longer about seeing what my feet can get me through. It was no longer about building my confidence back up to prepare for a marathon. I can try again another day, but Jeffrey only gets one first marathon and Mitch and I knew we had to help him see it through.
So we ran, and we walked. When we went by water stops we brought Jeff what he needed. I unwrapped his Starbursts while Mitch fetched Gatorade. We stopped when he needed to and we tailed him when he summoned up the strength to go again. He stayed in my sight right up until mile 10 (or 23 for Jeff).
Jeff was cramping really bad. I see the water stop ahead and I head over to fetch water for Jeff and me. When I turn around to find them, they are nowhere in the crowd. Did Jeff find a burst of energy again or were they walking? Did they run into the gas station for a pit stop?
I stop and look up and down the crowd of runners with no sign of either. I sprint ahead, then I stop and walk back and wait. I sprint ahead again and then stop and wait. Still no sign. I have a choice to make, they could be anywhere. I know Mitch won't leave his side so I make the tough call to get to the finish and wait.
Amazingly, I have a lot left in the tank and the last two miles I am flying past runners. I look at my watch at mile 11. Even though I sacrificed a lot of time, I am still only at 1:30! Jeff may not be in top form, but when he could run, he ran well. Not all was lost for my original goal of beating my time from last year.
I cross the finish line with a respectable time of 1:48:06. As soon as I cross, I pull over to the side and wait for Jeff and Mitch. Officials yell at me that I am hazard to runners coming in, though the five camera-men aren't considered a risk! I glare and argue that I am waiting for a friend who's hurting, but then shuffle on.
Fighting the tears that I had somehow betrayed Jeff and Mitch, I reluctantly grab my mylar wrap and medal and wait on the sidelines. Frantically scanning the crowd of finished runners I finally spot Jeff-good thing he's tall! I shove through the crowd and give him the longest hug. I'm am so relieved he made it. Mitch walked him in the last three miles, but made sure they ran across the finish line. I thank him and give him a big hug too.
After we go through the food line, we find a spot to sit on the ground.
"Thank you guys," Jeff says to Mitch and me, "you two are the meaning of a true friend. I couldn't have done it without you."
I remind him that what he did was simply amazing. He should be proud of himself. Instead he is beating himself up for not qualifying for Boston. With all the walking and cramping, he still finished his first marathon in 3:49-fastest BOMF first-time marathoner! Nobody should put Boston on their first marathon!
I told him I wouldn't stand for him being so hard on himself when he should be congratulating himself. Like a mini-celebrity, Jeff is approached by many runners asking how he did, The Back On My Feet people are like family. We slowly make our way back to the Sports Museum (thank you, Greg) to freshen up and relax. After more hugs, and congratulations, we three go our own way.
It feels good to know we helped a friend finish his first marathon. It feels even better knowing it was Jeffrey, my gentle Giraffe.
As some already know, my training has taken a beating due to a foot injury. I haven't logged in the amount of miles I had originally intended. The Baltimore Half-Marathon was not THE race I am training for, but it quickly became an event I needed to do well in to boost my running spirits and get my marathon-head back in the game.
My good friend and running partner Mitch had more confidence in me then I did. He thought we could break 1:45, but I insisted on only beating my previous Baltimore Half time of 1:51.
The Baltimore Half-Marathon
Refusing to rush the start line, I walked to the start while Mitch and Judy tried to encourage me to run. I am a firm believer there is no point to rush a chip-timed start when all you will end up doing is fighting the thick of the crowd; I run when I cross the mats!
As the first few miles rolled on, Mitch ran slightly in front of me in what he thought was an incentive for me to catch him. I rebelled against the pressure and stuck to my own comfortable pace. Turns out my comfortable pace for the first few miles was an 8:15. As long as my foot didn't act up, I felt I had a good chance of beating my PR (1:46).
Around mile three was where the full marathon and relay converges with the half. Being a four-year Baltimore half-marathon veteran I knew better then to bum rush that water stop; it's total chaos at that point. Still feeling good and keeping my eye on Mitch in front, I sink into a good race pace. It was around mile four, after all the runners from the various events were seeded, that I see Jeff.
Jeff (or Whit) is one of my teammates from Back On My Feet. He is a rez-member who was running his first full marathon today. He was on mile 17 and was walking and looking very glum.
Now, first let me give you a background on Jeff: He is tall and lean and born to run. He makes running look effortless and he has pulled me through several runs including two long and painful 17 milers. He recently won his age group at the Tunnel Run 5K with a time of 19:38. He is an amazing runner, who only the night before, spoke of qualifying for Boston in his first marathon (3:35).
I was instantly drawn to Jeff when I first started running with BOMF. He is gentle and sweet and always incredibly polite. He lights up my morning when I come to run with team MCVET in the pitch dark at 5:30 am. When we run, I chat, and he's silent. For every three steps I take, he takes one. Still, we seem to be in sync.
When I saw Jeff walking and wearing an expression of defeat I yelled ahead to Mitch. He turns around and I shout, "Jeff!". Instantly, we are both at Jeff's side.
"What do you need? Did you eat? How much have you drunk?"
I have learned that my race performance is better when I take in two GUs, but I have certainly survived on less. I pull one of my GUs from my pocket, tear off the top and hand it to Jeff. "Let's go", I say. Jeff starts to run.
Not knowing if I am helping or hurting , I try to distract him from his misery. I tell him exactly what I think he is: A Giraffe. Why? A giraffe is tall and lean. A giraffe is graceful, gentle, and quiet. A giraffe is a harmless creature, but when it runs, it glides across the land and covers great distances in effortless form on its long, skinny legs.
My race was no longer about seeing what my feet can get me through. It was no longer about building my confidence back up to prepare for a marathon. I can try again another day, but Jeffrey only gets one first marathon and Mitch and I knew we had to help him see it through.
So we ran, and we walked. When we went by water stops we brought Jeff what he needed. I unwrapped his Starbursts while Mitch fetched Gatorade. We stopped when he needed to and we tailed him when he summoned up the strength to go again. He stayed in my sight right up until mile 10 (or 23 for Jeff).
Jeff was cramping really bad. I see the water stop ahead and I head over to fetch water for Jeff and me. When I turn around to find them, they are nowhere in the crowd. Did Jeff find a burst of energy again or were they walking? Did they run into the gas station for a pit stop?
I stop and look up and down the crowd of runners with no sign of either. I sprint ahead, then I stop and walk back and wait. I sprint ahead again and then stop and wait. Still no sign. I have a choice to make, they could be anywhere. I know Mitch won't leave his side so I make the tough call to get to the finish and wait.
Amazingly, I have a lot left in the tank and the last two miles I am flying past runners. I look at my watch at mile 11. Even though I sacrificed a lot of time, I am still only at 1:30! Jeff may not be in top form, but when he could run, he ran well. Not all was lost for my original goal of beating my time from last year.
I cross the finish line with a respectable time of 1:48:06. As soon as I cross, I pull over to the side and wait for Jeff and Mitch. Officials yell at me that I am hazard to runners coming in, though the five camera-men aren't considered a risk! I glare and argue that I am waiting for a friend who's hurting, but then shuffle on.
Fighting the tears that I had somehow betrayed Jeff and Mitch, I reluctantly grab my mylar wrap and medal and wait on the sidelines. Frantically scanning the crowd of finished runners I finally spot Jeff-good thing he's tall! I shove through the crowd and give him the longest hug. I'm am so relieved he made it. Mitch walked him in the last three miles, but made sure they ran across the finish line. I thank him and give him a big hug too.
After we go through the food line, we find a spot to sit on the ground.
"Thank you guys," Jeff says to Mitch and me, "you two are the meaning of a true friend. I couldn't have done it without you."
I remind him that what he did was simply amazing. He should be proud of himself. Instead he is beating himself up for not qualifying for Boston. With all the walking and cramping, he still finished his first marathon in 3:49-fastest BOMF first-time marathoner! Nobody should put Boston on their first marathon!
I told him I wouldn't stand for him being so hard on himself when he should be congratulating himself. Like a mini-celebrity, Jeff is approached by many runners asking how he did, The Back On My Feet people are like family. We slowly make our way back to the Sports Museum (thank you, Greg) to freshen up and relax. After more hugs, and congratulations, we three go our own way.
It feels good to know we helped a friend finish his first marathon. It feels even better knowing it was Jeffrey, my gentle Giraffe.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Ragnar Relay: A new kind of 'Tired'
I just thesaurus-ed the word 'tired'. I think my favorite synonym is 'narcoleptic'. I'm pretty sure though, the word that is missing from the thesaurus and the entire English language is 'Ragnared'. Because that's what I am--Ragnared--a new kind of tired.
Ragnar Relay Overview
For those who do not know what a Ragnar Relay is I will try and explain the race itself, however, the experience of it is a whole other story(see below). Twelve people (in our case 6 men and 6 women) drive out to Cumberland, MD in two vans. It is a point to point race that is 197 or 201 miles long depending on which day you check the website. The event ends in DC (National Harbor, it has the ironically-named Awakening Statue). Each person runs a various preset distance to an exchange point where the next teammate is waiting to run their preset distance. The first 6 of van #1 do this while van #2 drives to the first exchange that begins the next series of their 6 legs. While one active van chases and supports the runners on, the inactive van has down time to eat, sleep, etc. The vans leap frog each other day and night until they've reached the finish or DNF'd. Think you got it? I'm still not sure...
Day 1 Ragnar
I wake up at 3:30 am, get a few things together, and head north to meet my team at Denise's house. We were supposed to meet at 4:30 to load and organize vans. Our BRRC Team 'Runs Well With Others' finally gets rolling around 5:15. We have to be at Rocky Gap Resort for a 7:30 safety meeting.
When we roll in (we're van #2), we see the resort against the beautiful backdrop of the mountains and lake. Though a little foggy, you can tell the trees are beginning to change. There are so many great team names: 'More cowbell', 'My third leg is hard...and long', 'WTF, I thought this was a 5K', Pimp my Stride, etc. All the Ragnar garb is spread out around the field.
Team Leg #1
Amelia was our first leg. She took of at 8:30 for her loop around the lake. Everyone hung out until she came in and handed off to Yurgen, leg #2 and then van #1 and van #2 part ways.
We arrive at exchange #6 for our first bit of down time. Each major exchange (6,12,18,24,and 30) is set up with a roped-off area for sleeping; this is to prevent passed-out runners from getting run over by vans coming and going. We checked in, listened to our mandatory safety meeting, and found a spot in the sleeping area that was shaded to relax and prep for what lie ahead. The day was roasting; the van temp said 95. Our van already anticipated the afternoon legs filled with record-high temps and insane mountainous climbs.
We finally get the call that Dave (the anchor leg of van #1) should be coming in 20 or so minutes. Van #1 arrives, and they share stories of how their first legs went. Jeff (our first runner) gets ready to take off in the day's brutal sun. Shortly after, the race volunteer gets the radio call that #56 (our bib number) is coming in. Jeff goes to the exchange chute and waits as Dave runs in, hands Jeff the slap bracelet, and takes off.
We jump back in our van after 20 or so minutes to chase after Jeff. Our van rolls along and we are in awe at the size of the hills and hairpin turns, we are also in awe of how far Jeff has made it in such a short time. When we see him, we shout cheers of encouragement then drive ahead a ways to pull over and hand him water as he comes through. As he comes by he shouts a number at us and then runs on, jumps in the air, clicks his heels together, and charges on. He's having a blast! We realize that the number he shouted was the total runners he has picked off so far. And so, the body count begins...
Our team is charged. The next leg is me. I pin my number on and head into the chute. Jeff comes flying in, hands me the bracelet and I'm off! The description of my leg clearly stated that I would have the most elevation gain of any other leg in the race--1000 ft climb! I had three solid miles of uphill, but I ran that sucker! I picked off one runner on the uphill. She had pom-pom pigtails, so it had to be done. My van drives by and asks what I want. I expel the word 'gatorade'. I started with a little 8 oz Deerpark water bottle thinking that would be enough to get me through my 5.6 mile leg, but had that thing finished in the first two miles.
Jeff jumps out, I hand him my empty bottle, he hands me an enormous 2L gatorade. Jeff says, 'Take it with you'. I start to run with the two liter bottle and realize how ridiculous it is to carry that thing. I run across the street and put it down as my team pulls up and picks up the bottle. I continue running and send my team my thoughts. Sure enough, they read my mind, have my little Deerpark bottle filled w/ gatorade and run it over to me.
My team is waiting at the top and they hand me an ice-cold bottle of water. I dump half on my head and then head downhill. I pick off four more runners, my legs are on autopilot and I'm flying down that mountain; I couldn't stop if I tried. I totally chicked three guys and passed one more. My body total: 5. I run through the chute, slap the bracelet on Rob for a flawless exchange. I'm done...for now.
Rob Santoni knocked off 20 or so, Jenn Zanni a few more, Speed Queen Brenda Dailey also knocked of 20 or so, then our van's anchor leg was team captain Christian Creutzer, who crewed Serge Arbona only the weekend before running his own 83 miles, he took out 15 and charged through the chute at exchange 12 where van #1 was waiting for us.
Team Leg #2 approx. 7:15 pm
After getting another briefing from Van #1 about the area, they took off and we decided to hang around for a little bit. This major exchange was at Clear Spring High school. Rumor had it hot showers were available, but the wait was long. Jen and I went into the air conditioned school, found the locker room and decided a sink/baby wipe shower was our best bet. A spaghetti dinner was being offered for $6. Our team stood in line for a much-needed hot meal. Looking around at the other seated runners enjoying their food, we anxiously waited our turns to enjoy noodles, green beans, applesauce, and cake. After five minutes of waiting a woman approaches us and the few runners in front and behind us. "I just wanted to let you know that we are about to run out of food and I didn't want you to stand in line for no reason." So much for our reward dinner!
I call Curt, a BRRC race volunteer, to find out when they are arriving at their exchange site. Curt and Dechen are at the next exchange, so we drive out to see them. We tell them all about what's been going on and they inform us that there was a head-on collision that was probably caused by a runner. It's dark now and it is a mandatory race rule that runners wear a reflective vest, headlamp, and blinking tail light. Even with all this gear on, cars are not expecting to see you out there and accidents can happen.
We part ways from our beloved volunteers and head up the road. We find the Cadillac of convenient stores-Sheetz, refill the tank, and buy more ice. I reward myself w/ cheese burger sliders. We head out once again to major exchange #18. We arrive a little before 10 pm. Already exhausted and only one leg complete, we head to the sleeping area. It's a calm, pleasant evening and I'm comfortable laying on my blanket and pillow on a grassy hillside. I simply must get some sleep!
We get the call about 10:40 that our team should be there in the next half hour. I received my first wake-up call. 30 minutes of sleep, if you want to call it that. Jeff is already getting ready and I figure since I'm after him I will get geared up too. I put on my flashing reflective vest, my head lamp and an extra glow stick bracelet for good measure.
Dave comes in around 11:30 and hands off to Jeff and he's off. Once again, we get caught up and exchange experiences w/ van #1 and part ways. Off to exchange #20--my leg.
When we arrive I see ice cream for sale. However, I have no time to eat it since Jeff will be coming in soon-he's just so damn fast! We see Tom Nasuta, a BRRC's legend, volunteering the graveyard shift. Lots of hugs and smiles all around. Here comes Jeff!
I take off on my first night time run. It's a little before 1 am and I am rolling over country roads that are only lit by the light on my head. I have no idea how fast I'm going and I don't see any more runners on the road. I skip the iPod for this run; I need all my senses. I am motivated to go as fast as possible to get away from the occasional rustling sounds coming from the bushes along the road. It's comforting to see so many other Ragnar vans driving by, I don't feel so alone. My van comes along and hands me a water half way in. By then I haven't passed any runners, but I finally have one in my site. My team cheers me on as I pass my first runner. I see the 'one mile to go' sign and check my watch 31:34 at 4 miles! I try to focus on the Ragnar blinking signs to stay the course. After cresting the last hill, I see the exchange and book it in and hand off to Rob. It's becoming too much, I talk myself out of hurling. My body is shaking, my brain is mush, I still have one more leg.
This night run went fast, but there weren't as many runners to knock off for whatever reason. Rob got more kills, Jenn held pace with Reflective Tape man and they battle it out for their finish, Brenda knocked out her 3.8 in just 26 minutes, and Christian tore up his feet on a brutal 8.5 mile run that was mostly on a rocky road w/ pot holes-not good in the dark. Exhaustion really set in for Rob and we had to pull over until he got it out of his system. We pull into major exchange 24 around 4 am
Final leg #3, Day two approx 4:15 am
When we arrive at the exchange, the volunteers inform us that the sleeping area is full. In the race bible it claims that this stop has hot chocolate and Starbucks coffee; they have neither. Our teammates inform us that they were sleeping on gravel and a train goes by every half hour, it also smells like a full port-a-potty. We decide to head on to the next major exchange since this was a bust.
With everyone else trying to sleep in the back, I take on the job of navigating Christian to the next exchange. It's 4:30 am and we've had no sleep for over 24 hours. I am trying to read the directions with a flashlight, and time and time again we keep getting lost. I can barely keep my head up. We finally find an alternate route, stop at a gas station to pick up a case of water and drive to our final major exchange. At 5:30 we pull in. I immediately hit the port-a-potty and then collapse on the ground with my blanket and pillow. I'm freezing, but I try to sleep, next year I'll remember to bring a sleeping bag.
A little after 6 am the volunteers fire up the generator to start cooking pancakes. Between freezing and the noise I decide to walk back to the van. Christian is asleep and I quietly sneak in and curl up in the front seat. Good ol' Christian snores and grunts away in his slumber. I do my best to fall asleep.
Around 7:30 the rest of the team comes to the van and we slowly start coming around for day two of our adventure. Delirious with insomnia, we eat a make-shift breakfast. Brenda, clearly out of her mind, starts a peanut butter fight with me. She smashes it in my face, I get her back. She looks at me, I look at her, then she nods towards Christian. I smile and we sprint towards him. Good thing he's fast!
We get the call that van #1 should be there soon. We start getting ready. Baby wipe showers, cleaned the van out, found my missing shoe. Apparently there was a communication error with van #1 and it looks like they will be later than expected (Steve). We finally make our way over the the exchange around 9:30. Van #1 shows up. At this point I am toast. I sit on the curb with my head on my arms asking myself if I can pull off another 6 miles. Everything is telling me no way. Brenda, who is a stronger runner, only has to run 2.5 on her leg. She offers to switch, and I seriously consider it.
Dave comes through and Jeff is off. I go back to the van and get geared up. I decide that if I can just lay down from the time it takes to drive to my exchange I may be able to do it. I tell my team, just throw me out of the van when Jeff comes in.
Around 11 am, Jeff comes in and I take off. At this point its just about surviving. I'm in no hurry, so I stick with a very comfortable and reasonable pace. It's hot again and I take a full bottle of water. I wind through a neighborhood and then onto some paved trails through a park. I see my team after 10 minutes in and they give me some water and gatorade. I tell them to find me again and give me more water...little did I know.
I think my section of run was on the C&O trail. I'm sorry, but what a dump! Talk about a ghetto trail! It's more like a gravel road that goes under highways and past urban neighborhoods. Smells of old fast food,and sounds of constant traffic-a far cry from a nature trail for sure. The trail traffic was insane as well. I had no idea who was just a runner and who was a Ragnar runner, so I didn't want to waste extra energy trying to pass a runner to discover they are out for a casual jog. The trail, or what I would refer to as just a 'traffic bypass', came to an incredibly odd section. I entered a concrete tunnel. It was paved, lit up and resembled a subway station. Very strange, but none the less cooler and I finally pass one Ragnar runner. The 'trail' had traffic crossings, so several times I had to stop and wait for the sign to change always looking over my shoulder for any encroaching Ragnar runners. This also ate up time.
It occurs to me that there is no way my team will be able to access me and give me water. I hold out as long as I can to drink the last sip in my bottle. I'm feeling loopy. Though my legs could go forever, my brain has checked out of my body. I finally finish to find my whole van #2 team waiting for me cheering. Christian was all apologies for not being able to get to me w/ hydration. I don't care, I survived, and now I don't have to run anymore! I'm now the envy of the rest of my team, they still have to run.
Rob takes off in the scorching sun. He has some trails, he gets to run past the Pentagon. Rob is disappointed to have no 'kills'. However he and another runner helped push each other through and finish; our team does 'Run Well With Others' after all. Now its up to Jen. Her 4.5 mile run is all city running which means lots of traffic and no shade. Then the bracelet hands off to Brenda. She smokes her 2.5 miles. It is now a little after 2 pm, temps are pushing 100. Christian packs a bottle of water w/ ice. We tell him we will try and find him to give him more water. After he leaves I get a call from Curt. He wanted to check to make sure we are okay. He heard several people were going down and one guy even died! I quietly pass this news onto my team being sure to leave Christian uninformed since he still has to run.
Christian has an 8-mile run ahead of him. While the rest of us fight DC traffic to get to the finish line, we realize there is no way to access Christian and give him more fluids. We get lost and finally find National Harbor and park in the free area designated for Ragnar; its clear on the other side from the finish line. We have to walk practically a mile to the finish line on dead, exhausted legs!
As we walk to the finish line we see Christian flying up to us. I instantly react and hand him the ice cold bottle of water I made for him. He grabs and shoots by. He's ready to end this insanity. Unfortunately, we don't get the the finish in time to see him cross-he's just too damn fast! But all of van #1 runs him in. Christian apparently wobbled at the finish and they rush him over to first aid. When we find him he's got ice packs under his arms and a blood pressure cuff on. The paramedics are asking him questions to check for coherency.
It's over. We stick around, eat some snacks and enjoy Smoothie King, take some group pics, get our medals and head home. I fall asleep in the back almost the entire way. We arrive at Denise's house, unload and go our separate ways. We are all, ahem, Ragnared. Though everyone knows a new found bond had been formed, no one had the energy to properly express the love and gratitude. I think, though, we know it's there and if you ask any one of my teammates if they would do it again, the answer would be "F--k Yeah!" Sorry, but that's how we roll. :-)
Ragnar Relay Overview
For those who do not know what a Ragnar Relay is I will try and explain the race itself, however, the experience of it is a whole other story(see below). Twelve people (in our case 6 men and 6 women) drive out to Cumberland, MD in two vans. It is a point to point race that is 197 or 201 miles long depending on which day you check the website. The event ends in DC (National Harbor, it has the ironically-named Awakening Statue). Each person runs a various preset distance to an exchange point where the next teammate is waiting to run their preset distance. The first 6 of van #1 do this while van #2 drives to the first exchange that begins the next series of their 6 legs. While one active van chases and supports the runners on, the inactive van has down time to eat, sleep, etc. The vans leap frog each other day and night until they've reached the finish or DNF'd. Think you got it? I'm still not sure...
Day 1 Ragnar
I wake up at 3:30 am, get a few things together, and head north to meet my team at Denise's house. We were supposed to meet at 4:30 to load and organize vans. Our BRRC Team 'Runs Well With Others' finally gets rolling around 5:15. We have to be at Rocky Gap Resort for a 7:30 safety meeting.
When we roll in (we're van #2), we see the resort against the beautiful backdrop of the mountains and lake. Though a little foggy, you can tell the trees are beginning to change. There are so many great team names: 'More cowbell', 'My third leg is hard...and long', 'WTF, I thought this was a 5K', Pimp my Stride, etc. All the Ragnar garb is spread out around the field.
Team Leg #1
Amelia was our first leg. She took of at 8:30 for her loop around the lake. Everyone hung out until she came in and handed off to Yurgen, leg #2 and then van #1 and van #2 part ways.
We arrive at exchange #6 for our first bit of down time. Each major exchange (6,12,18,24,and 30) is set up with a roped-off area for sleeping; this is to prevent passed-out runners from getting run over by vans coming and going. We checked in, listened to our mandatory safety meeting, and found a spot in the sleeping area that was shaded to relax and prep for what lie ahead. The day was roasting; the van temp said 95. Our van already anticipated the afternoon legs filled with record-high temps and insane mountainous climbs.
We finally get the call that Dave (the anchor leg of van #1) should be coming in 20 or so minutes. Van #1 arrives, and they share stories of how their first legs went. Jeff (our first runner) gets ready to take off in the day's brutal sun. Shortly after, the race volunteer gets the radio call that #56 (our bib number) is coming in. Jeff goes to the exchange chute and waits as Dave runs in, hands Jeff the slap bracelet, and takes off.
We jump back in our van after 20 or so minutes to chase after Jeff. Our van rolls along and we are in awe at the size of the hills and hairpin turns, we are also in awe of how far Jeff has made it in such a short time. When we see him, we shout cheers of encouragement then drive ahead a ways to pull over and hand him water as he comes through. As he comes by he shouts a number at us and then runs on, jumps in the air, clicks his heels together, and charges on. He's having a blast! We realize that the number he shouted was the total runners he has picked off so far. And so, the body count begins...
Our team is charged. The next leg is me. I pin my number on and head into the chute. Jeff comes flying in, hands me the bracelet and I'm off! The description of my leg clearly stated that I would have the most elevation gain of any other leg in the race--1000 ft climb! I had three solid miles of uphill, but I ran that sucker! I picked off one runner on the uphill. She had pom-pom pigtails, so it had to be done. My van drives by and asks what I want. I expel the word 'gatorade'. I started with a little 8 oz Deerpark water bottle thinking that would be enough to get me through my 5.6 mile leg, but had that thing finished in the first two miles.
Jeff jumps out, I hand him my empty bottle, he hands me an enormous 2L gatorade. Jeff says, 'Take it with you'. I start to run with the two liter bottle and realize how ridiculous it is to carry that thing. I run across the street and put it down as my team pulls up and picks up the bottle. I continue running and send my team my thoughts. Sure enough, they read my mind, have my little Deerpark bottle filled w/ gatorade and run it over to me.
My team is waiting at the top and they hand me an ice-cold bottle of water. I dump half on my head and then head downhill. I pick off four more runners, my legs are on autopilot and I'm flying down that mountain; I couldn't stop if I tried. I totally chicked three guys and passed one more. My body total: 5. I run through the chute, slap the bracelet on Rob for a flawless exchange. I'm done...for now.
Rob Santoni knocked off 20 or so, Jenn Zanni a few more, Speed Queen Brenda Dailey also knocked of 20 or so, then our van's anchor leg was team captain Christian Creutzer, who crewed Serge Arbona only the weekend before running his own 83 miles, he took out 15 and charged through the chute at exchange 12 where van #1 was waiting for us.
Team Leg #2 approx. 7:15 pm
After getting another briefing from Van #1 about the area, they took off and we decided to hang around for a little bit. This major exchange was at Clear Spring High school. Rumor had it hot showers were available, but the wait was long. Jen and I went into the air conditioned school, found the locker room and decided a sink/baby wipe shower was our best bet. A spaghetti dinner was being offered for $6. Our team stood in line for a much-needed hot meal. Looking around at the other seated runners enjoying their food, we anxiously waited our turns to enjoy noodles, green beans, applesauce, and cake. After five minutes of waiting a woman approaches us and the few runners in front and behind us. "I just wanted to let you know that we are about to run out of food and I didn't want you to stand in line for no reason." So much for our reward dinner!
I call Curt, a BRRC race volunteer, to find out when they are arriving at their exchange site. Curt and Dechen are at the next exchange, so we drive out to see them. We tell them all about what's been going on and they inform us that there was a head-on collision that was probably caused by a runner. It's dark now and it is a mandatory race rule that runners wear a reflective vest, headlamp, and blinking tail light. Even with all this gear on, cars are not expecting to see you out there and accidents can happen.
We part ways from our beloved volunteers and head up the road. We find the Cadillac of convenient stores-Sheetz, refill the tank, and buy more ice. I reward myself w/ cheese burger sliders. We head out once again to major exchange #18. We arrive a little before 10 pm. Already exhausted and only one leg complete, we head to the sleeping area. It's a calm, pleasant evening and I'm comfortable laying on my blanket and pillow on a grassy hillside. I simply must get some sleep!
We get the call about 10:40 that our team should be there in the next half hour. I received my first wake-up call. 30 minutes of sleep, if you want to call it that. Jeff is already getting ready and I figure since I'm after him I will get geared up too. I put on my flashing reflective vest, my head lamp and an extra glow stick bracelet for good measure.
Dave comes in around 11:30 and hands off to Jeff and he's off. Once again, we get caught up and exchange experiences w/ van #1 and part ways. Off to exchange #20--my leg.
When we arrive I see ice cream for sale. However, I have no time to eat it since Jeff will be coming in soon-he's just so damn fast! We see Tom Nasuta, a BRRC's legend, volunteering the graveyard shift. Lots of hugs and smiles all around. Here comes Jeff!
I take off on my first night time run. It's a little before 1 am and I am rolling over country roads that are only lit by the light on my head. I have no idea how fast I'm going and I don't see any more runners on the road. I skip the iPod for this run; I need all my senses. I am motivated to go as fast as possible to get away from the occasional rustling sounds coming from the bushes along the road. It's comforting to see so many other Ragnar vans driving by, I don't feel so alone. My van comes along and hands me a water half way in. By then I haven't passed any runners, but I finally have one in my site. My team cheers me on as I pass my first runner. I see the 'one mile to go' sign and check my watch 31:34 at 4 miles! I try to focus on the Ragnar blinking signs to stay the course. After cresting the last hill, I see the exchange and book it in and hand off to Rob. It's becoming too much, I talk myself out of hurling. My body is shaking, my brain is mush, I still have one more leg.
This night run went fast, but there weren't as many runners to knock off for whatever reason. Rob got more kills, Jenn held pace with Reflective Tape man and they battle it out for their finish, Brenda knocked out her 3.8 in just 26 minutes, and Christian tore up his feet on a brutal 8.5 mile run that was mostly on a rocky road w/ pot holes-not good in the dark. Exhaustion really set in for Rob and we had to pull over until he got it out of his system. We pull into major exchange 24 around 4 am
Final leg #3, Day two approx 4:15 am
When we arrive at the exchange, the volunteers inform us that the sleeping area is full. In the race bible it claims that this stop has hot chocolate and Starbucks coffee; they have neither. Our teammates inform us that they were sleeping on gravel and a train goes by every half hour, it also smells like a full port-a-potty. We decide to head on to the next major exchange since this was a bust.
With everyone else trying to sleep in the back, I take on the job of navigating Christian to the next exchange. It's 4:30 am and we've had no sleep for over 24 hours. I am trying to read the directions with a flashlight, and time and time again we keep getting lost. I can barely keep my head up. We finally find an alternate route, stop at a gas station to pick up a case of water and drive to our final major exchange. At 5:30 we pull in. I immediately hit the port-a-potty and then collapse on the ground with my blanket and pillow. I'm freezing, but I try to sleep, next year I'll remember to bring a sleeping bag.
A little after 6 am the volunteers fire up the generator to start cooking pancakes. Between freezing and the noise I decide to walk back to the van. Christian is asleep and I quietly sneak in and curl up in the front seat. Good ol' Christian snores and grunts away in his slumber. I do my best to fall asleep.
Around 7:30 the rest of the team comes to the van and we slowly start coming around for day two of our adventure. Delirious with insomnia, we eat a make-shift breakfast. Brenda, clearly out of her mind, starts a peanut butter fight with me. She smashes it in my face, I get her back. She looks at me, I look at her, then she nods towards Christian. I smile and we sprint towards him. Good thing he's fast!
We get the call that van #1 should be there soon. We start getting ready. Baby wipe showers, cleaned the van out, found my missing shoe. Apparently there was a communication error with van #1 and it looks like they will be later than expected (Steve). We finally make our way over the the exchange around 9:30. Van #1 shows up. At this point I am toast. I sit on the curb with my head on my arms asking myself if I can pull off another 6 miles. Everything is telling me no way. Brenda, who is a stronger runner, only has to run 2.5 on her leg. She offers to switch, and I seriously consider it.
Dave comes through and Jeff is off. I go back to the van and get geared up. I decide that if I can just lay down from the time it takes to drive to my exchange I may be able to do it. I tell my team, just throw me out of the van when Jeff comes in.
Around 11 am, Jeff comes in and I take off. At this point its just about surviving. I'm in no hurry, so I stick with a very comfortable and reasonable pace. It's hot again and I take a full bottle of water. I wind through a neighborhood and then onto some paved trails through a park. I see my team after 10 minutes in and they give me some water and gatorade. I tell them to find me again and give me more water...little did I know.
I think my section of run was on the C&O trail. I'm sorry, but what a dump! Talk about a ghetto trail! It's more like a gravel road that goes under highways and past urban neighborhoods. Smells of old fast food,and sounds of constant traffic-a far cry from a nature trail for sure. The trail traffic was insane as well. I had no idea who was just a runner and who was a Ragnar runner, so I didn't want to waste extra energy trying to pass a runner to discover they are out for a casual jog. The trail, or what I would refer to as just a 'traffic bypass', came to an incredibly odd section. I entered a concrete tunnel. It was paved, lit up and resembled a subway station. Very strange, but none the less cooler and I finally pass one Ragnar runner. The 'trail' had traffic crossings, so several times I had to stop and wait for the sign to change always looking over my shoulder for any encroaching Ragnar runners. This also ate up time.
It occurs to me that there is no way my team will be able to access me and give me water. I hold out as long as I can to drink the last sip in my bottle. I'm feeling loopy. Though my legs could go forever, my brain has checked out of my body. I finally finish to find my whole van #2 team waiting for me cheering. Christian was all apologies for not being able to get to me w/ hydration. I don't care, I survived, and now I don't have to run anymore! I'm now the envy of the rest of my team, they still have to run.
Rob takes off in the scorching sun. He has some trails, he gets to run past the Pentagon. Rob is disappointed to have no 'kills'. However he and another runner helped push each other through and finish; our team does 'Run Well With Others' after all. Now its up to Jen. Her 4.5 mile run is all city running which means lots of traffic and no shade. Then the bracelet hands off to Brenda. She smokes her 2.5 miles. It is now a little after 2 pm, temps are pushing 100. Christian packs a bottle of water w/ ice. We tell him we will try and find him to give him more water. After he leaves I get a call from Curt. He wanted to check to make sure we are okay. He heard several people were going down and one guy even died! I quietly pass this news onto my team being sure to leave Christian uninformed since he still has to run.
Christian has an 8-mile run ahead of him. While the rest of us fight DC traffic to get to the finish line, we realize there is no way to access Christian and give him more fluids. We get lost and finally find National Harbor and park in the free area designated for Ragnar; its clear on the other side from the finish line. We have to walk practically a mile to the finish line on dead, exhausted legs!
As we walk to the finish line we see Christian flying up to us. I instantly react and hand him the ice cold bottle of water I made for him. He grabs and shoots by. He's ready to end this insanity. Unfortunately, we don't get the the finish in time to see him cross-he's just too damn fast! But all of van #1 runs him in. Christian apparently wobbled at the finish and they rush him over to first aid. When we find him he's got ice packs under his arms and a blood pressure cuff on. The paramedics are asking him questions to check for coherency.
It's over. We stick around, eat some snacks and enjoy Smoothie King, take some group pics, get our medals and head home. I fall asleep in the back almost the entire way. We arrive at Denise's house, unload and go our separate ways. We are all, ahem, Ragnared. Though everyone knows a new found bond had been formed, no one had the energy to properly express the love and gratitude. I think, though, we know it's there and if you ask any one of my teammates if they would do it again, the answer would be "F--k Yeah!" Sorry, but that's how we roll. :-)
Monday, September 13, 2010
Like a caged animal...
It was about mile 16. I was somewhat disoriented and I took my electrolyte supplement; it seemed to wake up my brain, but not so much with the legs. After passing MM 4 on the trail, I ran through the Sparks water stop and I saw Laurie from CCR Events. Not sure if she recognized me, but she asked how I felt. How do I feel?! At mile 16?? My lady-like poise had long left me (I think it was about mile 14) so all I could muster up was, "I feel like shit!". Laurie responded with semi-shock, "Oh, I'm glad I asked!" I hope she wasn't offended and understood what I was going through...
It was after that I tried to focus, but I'm pretty sure I'd reached my threshold. The NCR trail has spots that are washed out, as some trail veterans know. I hit one of these spots, felt my ankle turn, and was surprised that it didn't hurt, but simply felt over-extended.
I had 3+ miles to go after that. After maintaining my goal pace of 8:30 up until mile 14, I stopped counting and dropped back to an approximate 10-minute pace. I pushed as hard as I could, but there was nothing left. It felt like a rock was in my shoe; sharp-stabbing pain.
On the last mile we finally hit road and the course took us up Ashland Road. My feet were thankful to have a different variable. Though rolling roads, it felt better to be running on a solid, predictable surface. From what I recall, there were only two hills on Ashland. It was the second hill that I experienced something I never have before--The Wall. I have been tired and I have felt my pace slow, but I have never experienced this. In prior training there was something about mile 9 that created a mental block for me, but this...this was 'The Wall'.
Pink Floyd summons up too many memories to mention, but we aren't talking laser-light shows, odd psycho ex-boyfriends, and what not. The Wall, to me, was more physical than anything. It was as if someone was using all their weight, pushing against me, and telling me that I could make progress, but just not in the forward direction.
A U-turn into the finish line, I see my beloved Dave Cooley and blow him a double kiss. I shuffle across the timing pads and see Kelly Dees, CCR race director. To be encouraging, she says, "You make it look easy." I want to kiss her for being so kind, but I know she's only saying it because I look like hell.
I don't realize the full impact at that point. There are so many people I want to talk to, so many people who I want to thank. I limp around the parking lot and assume the pain is due to the mere fact that I just tried to race 20 miles. After all, what's the big deal? There are people like Kevin Hewitt and Mike Wardian who log in 100 miles a week, or Mike Buss who has run a marathon a day for the past 90+ days.
It was a pain that just wouldn't go away. Before, any twinge or tweak I felt, I would slap some ice on it a couple times a day, maybe take a day off, and things would be as good as new. The last thing I needed was to be injured, especially after all the commitments I had made to teams, friends and family. But now, I couldn't ignore what was happening to my foot, and I WOULDN'T be stubborn enough to bull through it.
I have crossed to many runners in my recent exposure to the running world that have pushed through injury and ended up incapacitated beyond any time frame. I refused to let this be me. I know that nipping an injury in its early phases can prevent a prolonged period of metaphoric solitary confinement.
I feel like a caged animal. I am confined and limited because of an injury I have been so cautious to prevent. I am meant to run. Sure, I can cross-train with cycling, elliptical, swimming and what not, but I am meant to run.
I use the elliptical machine and drench my anger and frustration in my own pool of sweat knowing that this perspiration could be sloughed off by the mere motion of propelling my body forward along a road. It's been a week since my injury; things seem status quo, I will try again.
I set out for a modest 3 miles. I have only completed one mile when I can't ignore my foot. I stop like a good certified running coach should, and I do the walk of shame back to my car. Thank goodness it's raining so that the on coming runners can't see my tears of frustration and jealousy. I hate my foot, I hate my need.
I am a runner. I run to cope, I run to escape, I run so that I can feel the freedom of using my own two feet to accomplish what most deem impossible. If I can't run, I can't release.
Thank God for all the other runners out there. They get it. They know. They are so amazing in sending me their well-wishes and support. They seem to want me well almost as much as I do. I don't know where I would be without their support. If I didn't have it, the confinement of an injury would become suffocating. I can breathe though, knowing my running friends are out there waiting for me to join them on any amount of mileage I can summon up.
Thank you! You know who you are. You keep me sane through my most trying times. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! Thank you just for 'getting it'.
It was after that I tried to focus, but I'm pretty sure I'd reached my threshold. The NCR trail has spots that are washed out, as some trail veterans know. I hit one of these spots, felt my ankle turn, and was surprised that it didn't hurt, but simply felt over-extended.
I had 3+ miles to go after that. After maintaining my goal pace of 8:30 up until mile 14, I stopped counting and dropped back to an approximate 10-minute pace. I pushed as hard as I could, but there was nothing left. It felt like a rock was in my shoe; sharp-stabbing pain.
On the last mile we finally hit road and the course took us up Ashland Road. My feet were thankful to have a different variable. Though rolling roads, it felt better to be running on a solid, predictable surface. From what I recall, there were only two hills on Ashland. It was the second hill that I experienced something I never have before--The Wall. I have been tired and I have felt my pace slow, but I have never experienced this. In prior training there was something about mile 9 that created a mental block for me, but this...this was 'The Wall'.
Pink Floyd summons up too many memories to mention, but we aren't talking laser-light shows, odd psycho ex-boyfriends, and what not. The Wall, to me, was more physical than anything. It was as if someone was using all their weight, pushing against me, and telling me that I could make progress, but just not in the forward direction.
A U-turn into the finish line, I see my beloved Dave Cooley and blow him a double kiss. I shuffle across the timing pads and see Kelly Dees, CCR race director. To be encouraging, she says, "You make it look easy." I want to kiss her for being so kind, but I know she's only saying it because I look like hell.
I don't realize the full impact at that point. There are so many people I want to talk to, so many people who I want to thank. I limp around the parking lot and assume the pain is due to the mere fact that I just tried to race 20 miles. After all, what's the big deal? There are people like Kevin Hewitt and Mike Wardian who log in 100 miles a week, or Mike Buss who has run a marathon a day for the past 90+ days.
It was a pain that just wouldn't go away. Before, any twinge or tweak I felt, I would slap some ice on it a couple times a day, maybe take a day off, and things would be as good as new. The last thing I needed was to be injured, especially after all the commitments I had made to teams, friends and family. But now, I couldn't ignore what was happening to my foot, and I WOULDN'T be stubborn enough to bull through it.
I have crossed to many runners in my recent exposure to the running world that have pushed through injury and ended up incapacitated beyond any time frame. I refused to let this be me. I know that nipping an injury in its early phases can prevent a prolonged period of metaphoric solitary confinement.
I feel like a caged animal. I am confined and limited because of an injury I have been so cautious to prevent. I am meant to run. Sure, I can cross-train with cycling, elliptical, swimming and what not, but I am meant to run.
I use the elliptical machine and drench my anger and frustration in my own pool of sweat knowing that this perspiration could be sloughed off by the mere motion of propelling my body forward along a road. It's been a week since my injury; things seem status quo, I will try again.
I set out for a modest 3 miles. I have only completed one mile when I can't ignore my foot. I stop like a good certified running coach should, and I do the walk of shame back to my car. Thank goodness it's raining so that the on coming runners can't see my tears of frustration and jealousy. I hate my foot, I hate my need.
I am a runner. I run to cope, I run to escape, I run so that I can feel the freedom of using my own two feet to accomplish what most deem impossible. If I can't run, I can't release.
Thank God for all the other runners out there. They get it. They know. They are so amazing in sending me their well-wishes and support. They seem to want me well almost as much as I do. I don't know where I would be without their support. If I didn't have it, the confinement of an injury would become suffocating. I can breathe though, knowing my running friends are out there waiting for me to join them on any amount of mileage I can summon up.
Thank you! You know who you are. You keep me sane through my most trying times. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! Thank you just for 'getting it'.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Oh wait...I'm a runner!
The Baltimore 10-Miler
"I don't feel like a runner today", I said to a friend after crossing the finish line yesterday. I thought I did everything right. I averaged 30 miles a week, did speed and hill workouts, cut out alcohol the week before, carbo-loaded for three days, and made a point to hydrate well. Still, I couldn't pull off the goal I had put on myself.
Every race I have recently completed I have gone beyond my own expectations. I thought I had finally established realistic goal-setting. All my times reflected my ability to reach my moderate time goal of coming under 1:20:00 for this 10-mile race. I even set an aggressive goal of 1:18:00 and a conservative goal of 1:22:30. Did I reach any of these goals? No.
After passing mile 9 in the race, I checked my watch 1:14:00. I knew at that point the chance of reaching my goal was blown. The last mile was almost all uphill, so I mentally threw in the towel and shuffled/walked my way in to the finish line. I was so mad at myself. What was my training missing? More long runs w/ hills?
The temperature was somewhere in the 80's w/ relatively little humidity, though the sun beat down on the roads making it feel even hotter. I invested so much of my effort into making this event a success, can I simply blame it on the weather? I finished with 1:24 something, I don't really care...
"I'm taking an entire week off from running." I said to my doubtful friend. Before this race I was actually looking forward to it because I felt like I earned it.
The next day, Father's Day.
We had a family bike ride planned at the trail, so we packed up the bikes and headed up. I own a trail bike, but I prefer the road; something about a need for speed. My trail bike is in terrible condition due to neglect and a moldy garage; on the other hand, my road bike is like my third child. I brought my trail bike over to my dad's the day before so he could give it a once over and approve it for ride ahead (he's THE bike guy).
Once out on the trail, all was going well until two miles in when my back wheel started wobbling. With my dad and his bike fix-it abilities well ahead I thought I would use my brute strength to pull my dragging bike to catch him and get him to assess the situation. But as I rode on the wheel got worse and then BANG! Like a gunshot, my tube blew.
My sister-in-law agreed to peddle ahead and catch my father and send him back to assist. Luckily my brilliant bike-loving father arrived with a spare tube and pump-- something I take for granted. All I had to do was sit back and let him make my rusty trail bike good as new, sort of. He pumped what air he could in and we agreed the he would continue heading up with the girls and I would head back to the car. He assured me that my tire should get me back the mere 2.5 miles.
Alone, I peddled lightly back south as my wheel continued to wobble. As I rode on, things quickly deteriorated and I was left with a completely flat tire again. Great, now what? Alone on the trail with a broken bike and two miles from where I need to be.
'Wait a minute...', I thought to myself, 'I'm a runner!'. Thinking back to my triathlon days of running the bike out of the transition area and grateful I had my running shoes on, I hopped off my bike and ran it along w/ me. When I came to the first crossroad on the trail, I chucked my bike and helmet, and set out on foot.
On my trial bike, I feel bulky and slow. To be fair, I was riding with kids, so speed wasn't the main focus. But on my feet running, it felt efficient and natural. I needed a blown tire to remind me that I AM A RUNNER!
Now...I guess I should get back out there and prove it.
"I don't feel like a runner today", I said to a friend after crossing the finish line yesterday. I thought I did everything right. I averaged 30 miles a week, did speed and hill workouts, cut out alcohol the week before, carbo-loaded for three days, and made a point to hydrate well. Still, I couldn't pull off the goal I had put on myself.
Every race I have recently completed I have gone beyond my own expectations. I thought I had finally established realistic goal-setting. All my times reflected my ability to reach my moderate time goal of coming under 1:20:00 for this 10-mile race. I even set an aggressive goal of 1:18:00 and a conservative goal of 1:22:30. Did I reach any of these goals? No.
After passing mile 9 in the race, I checked my watch 1:14:00. I knew at that point the chance of reaching my goal was blown. The last mile was almost all uphill, so I mentally threw in the towel and shuffled/walked my way in to the finish line. I was so mad at myself. What was my training missing? More long runs w/ hills?
The temperature was somewhere in the 80's w/ relatively little humidity, though the sun beat down on the roads making it feel even hotter. I invested so much of my effort into making this event a success, can I simply blame it on the weather? I finished with 1:24 something, I don't really care...
"I'm taking an entire week off from running." I said to my doubtful friend. Before this race I was actually looking forward to it because I felt like I earned it.
The next day, Father's Day.
We had a family bike ride planned at the trail, so we packed up the bikes and headed up. I own a trail bike, but I prefer the road; something about a need for speed. My trail bike is in terrible condition due to neglect and a moldy garage; on the other hand, my road bike is like my third child. I brought my trail bike over to my dad's the day before so he could give it a once over and approve it for ride ahead (he's THE bike guy).
Once out on the trail, all was going well until two miles in when my back wheel started wobbling. With my dad and his bike fix-it abilities well ahead I thought I would use my brute strength to pull my dragging bike to catch him and get him to assess the situation. But as I rode on the wheel got worse and then BANG! Like a gunshot, my tube blew.
My sister-in-law agreed to peddle ahead and catch my father and send him back to assist. Luckily my brilliant bike-loving father arrived with a spare tube and pump-- something I take for granted. All I had to do was sit back and let him make my rusty trail bike good as new, sort of. He pumped what air he could in and we agreed the he would continue heading up with the girls and I would head back to the car. He assured me that my tire should get me back the mere 2.5 miles.
Alone, I peddled lightly back south as my wheel continued to wobble. As I rode on, things quickly deteriorated and I was left with a completely flat tire again. Great, now what? Alone on the trail with a broken bike and two miles from where I need to be.
'Wait a minute...', I thought to myself, 'I'm a runner!'. Thinking back to my triathlon days of running the bike out of the transition area and grateful I had my running shoes on, I hopped off my bike and ran it along w/ me. When I came to the first crossroad on the trail, I chucked my bike and helmet, and set out on foot.
On my trial bike, I feel bulky and slow. To be fair, I was riding with kids, so speed wasn't the main focus. But on my feet running, it felt efficient and natural. I needed a blown tire to remind me that I AM A RUNNER!
Now...I guess I should get back out there and prove it.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The greatest metaphor in life--Running
Sometimes running isn't enough. It just can't seem to take me to the point I am trying to reach. I average 30 miles a week and some weeks, though my legs and body are done, my head is begging me to go further.
Running is a metaphor that is so often used as a form of escape. Just as there are many weather references to describe moods and feelings, running is the preferred method of getting away from something. Sure, driving can be too, but something about running makes it a more self-inflicted mode of transportation that is meant to exhaust the mind and body.
Though I am not a big fan of Shakespeare here are two quotes that seem fitting at the moment:
"Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible"-Julius Caesar
"I will run as far God has any ground" -The merchant of Venice
So why do you run? Is it towards something or away? Is it to energize or torture? How far is too far? How fast is fast enough? What are the limitations and the boundaries?
On the opposite end of the quote spectrum, here is the modern day poet Eminem:
"...when your run is over just admit when its at its end."
Will you know when it is?
Running is a metaphor that is so often used as a form of escape. Just as there are many weather references to describe moods and feelings, running is the preferred method of getting away from something. Sure, driving can be too, but something about running makes it a more self-inflicted mode of transportation that is meant to exhaust the mind and body.
Though I am not a big fan of Shakespeare here are two quotes that seem fitting at the moment:
"Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible"-Julius Caesar
"I will run as far God has any ground" -The merchant of Venice
So why do you run? Is it towards something or away? Is it to energize or torture? How far is too far? How fast is fast enough? What are the limitations and the boundaries?
On the opposite end of the quote spectrum, here is the modern day poet Eminem:
"...when your run is over just admit when its at its end."
Will you know when it is?
Friday, June 4, 2010
Post-run scenario: The lesser of two evils
I just finished running 5 miles through the Reservoir on a very hot and humid day. I always take in my surroundings when I come back from a run. Who is in the parking lot, cars driving by, etc. I am a paranoid person in general,so I always assume someone is out to get me; I think it's why I'm still alive...
I noticed on my return to the parking lot that there is one black car parked off a ways from mine with a man sitting in it. This is not unusual, but I made a mental note of his presence.
I continue to cool down, walking around, wiping the sweat off my face and sipping water. I go to my area where I like to stretch, taking my time, and keeping an eye on the black car.
As I stretch, another car drives by. It's not just any car, but some souped up 70's hot rod with silver sparkles and red trim, needless to say unusual. I track this car as it drives by and the pony-tailed driver eyes me. The hairs on my neck stand up.
This unique car continues as if it's going to pass my car in the parking lot (I am across the street from my car--a good 50 feet) but then he stops, backs up and parks right next to my car so that his driver's door is a mere foot from mine. Why did he have to park so close to me? There is an entire parking lot, and is it really necessary to back in? Hmmm.....
I continue to pace around as if I am still cooling down and take in my options. I could go over to my car, unlock it, and climb in the passenger side, but this seems too obvious that I am trying to avoid this guy, plus it puts me within conversation range. I could go off down the hill and add a couple more miles to my run thus avoiding the parking lot all together and hope he's gone when I get back. Talking to strangers is a bid no-no as a child, but as adults we have to pretend to be fearless and friendly even when our heart is pounding and skin is crawling. I opt for secret option C.
I walk over to the black car with the man who has been sitting there the whole time and, from a fair distance, I say, "Can you do my a favor? Can you keep an eye on that guy" as I nod over in the direction of the hot rod. The guy says "Sure, I got your back...I'll even drive over there." That last little bit seemed a little excessive; I just needed him to be a witness should a crime occur, but I said 'thanks'.
So I walk towards my car knowing this guy in the black car is tailing me and, when I'm in range I wave to the black car as if I know him, unlock my car and jump in quickly, but not before Mr. Hot Rod shouts, "Hey, it's nice seeing you agai..!" I shut my door and lock it not letting him finish his sentence.
As I pull away, it is me tailing the black car as we head out. I follow along thinking that my next plan of attack will be to veer into another neighborhood and let him think I live there instead of turning on my street, but he goes straight where I need to turn anyway. Hey, this guy in the black car may have done me a favor, but he could have just been the lesser of two evils and had his own agenda. You never know...
I say it again, I live like everyone is out to get me, it's why I'm still alive.
I noticed on my return to the parking lot that there is one black car parked off a ways from mine with a man sitting in it. This is not unusual, but I made a mental note of his presence.
I continue to cool down, walking around, wiping the sweat off my face and sipping water. I go to my area where I like to stretch, taking my time, and keeping an eye on the black car.
As I stretch, another car drives by. It's not just any car, but some souped up 70's hot rod with silver sparkles and red trim, needless to say unusual. I track this car as it drives by and the pony-tailed driver eyes me. The hairs on my neck stand up.
This unique car continues as if it's going to pass my car in the parking lot (I am across the street from my car--a good 50 feet) but then he stops, backs up and parks right next to my car so that his driver's door is a mere foot from mine. Why did he have to park so close to me? There is an entire parking lot, and is it really necessary to back in? Hmmm.....
I continue to pace around as if I am still cooling down and take in my options. I could go over to my car, unlock it, and climb in the passenger side, but this seems too obvious that I am trying to avoid this guy, plus it puts me within conversation range. I could go off down the hill and add a couple more miles to my run thus avoiding the parking lot all together and hope he's gone when I get back. Talking to strangers is a bid no-no as a child, but as adults we have to pretend to be fearless and friendly even when our heart is pounding and skin is crawling. I opt for secret option C.
I walk over to the black car with the man who has been sitting there the whole time and, from a fair distance, I say, "Can you do my a favor? Can you keep an eye on that guy" as I nod over in the direction of the hot rod. The guy says "Sure, I got your back...I'll even drive over there." That last little bit seemed a little excessive; I just needed him to be a witness should a crime occur, but I said 'thanks'.
So I walk towards my car knowing this guy in the black car is tailing me and, when I'm in range I wave to the black car as if I know him, unlock my car and jump in quickly, but not before Mr. Hot Rod shouts, "Hey, it's nice seeing you agai..!" I shut my door and lock it not letting him finish his sentence.
As I pull away, it is me tailing the black car as we head out. I follow along thinking that my next plan of attack will be to veer into another neighborhood and let him think I live there instead of turning on my street, but he goes straight where I need to turn anyway. Hey, this guy in the black car may have done me a favor, but he could have just been the lesser of two evils and had his own agenda. You never know...
I say it again, I live like everyone is out to get me, it's why I'm still alive.
Friday, May 7, 2010
OMG McDonalds is good!
Fourteen miles on the trail all by my lonesome was quite a feat in itself. After mile nine (What is it about mile 9??) I started feeling delusional. I couldn't remember what mile I was on and what I had passed. Resorting back to my coaching class I knew that my body was using up my glycogen stores leaving my brain depleted. I started to focus on what I would eat when I was done to keep me motivated. I needed a carrot, except I was not in the mood for veggies.
Mile 10 (or was it 11?) I was going over a recent article I put up about recovery foods. Should I feel guilty about suggesting such glutinous, junky things? Mike suggested maybe I make it clear that the foods I mentioned are really meant for those who logged in many miles and not just some recreational once-a-week jogger. Gorging on a cheeseburger after completing 3 miles can be counter-productive!
With three (four?) miles to go, the word cheeseburger ran over and over in my head...then the image of it...THEN the taste of it! I tried to summon up the brain power to determine which McDonalds was closest to the Phoenix parking lot. I decided Jacksonville, though receiving bad service before, was still the most geographically convenient location.
Cheeseburger...and what goes with a cheeseburger? A chocolate shake! I semi-quickly deducted that I would not have the suction power to drastically intake the triple-thick chocolate calcium source my body so desperately required, so I switched gears to the easier source: chocolate milk.
At this point it didn't seem economical to not just make a meal of it. The more I thought about it, the more I realized french fries would be the ticket. So we have chocolate milk, french fries, and a cheeseburger. Scratch that, DOUBLE cheeseburger--better meat-cheese:bread ratio.
Last two miles (I'm pretty sure) I am plotting my plan of action once I get back to my car and cool off. Taking on my new philosophy of stretching when I get home due to the damage caused to our muscles, I walk for a bit and hop in my car. Feeling obnoxious, loopy, and exhausted I crank up the stereo--Jay-Z-Empire State of Mind...ah.
I zip through the drive thru and get my Mighty Kids meal; I consider which kid will get my prize (William. Ashley is getting too old anyway). Like they knew I was coming, the food is dangling out the window so all I had to do is grab and go. I down the chocolate milk (cold+chocolate=heaven) before I even leave the parking lot, then I dive into the french fries. Licking the salt off my finger tips, I remind my body that french fries have valuable potassium and sodium, both things lost through sweat, and I sweat a lot.! I save the best for last.
Cheeseburger The perfect marriage of salt, meat, cheese, crunchy pickles, katsup-mustard and those little-bitty dehydrated onions (can you buy these somewhere?). I feel like the picture of health! My body says,'Yes, you are!'
Fourteen freakin' miles all alone. I did make a friend though, perhaps you know him? He's this Scottish fella' and he makes fast, convienent tasty food.
Mile 10 (or was it 11?) I was going over a recent article I put up about recovery foods. Should I feel guilty about suggesting such glutinous, junky things? Mike suggested maybe I make it clear that the foods I mentioned are really meant for those who logged in many miles and not just some recreational once-a-week jogger. Gorging on a cheeseburger after completing 3 miles can be counter-productive!
With three (four?) miles to go, the word cheeseburger ran over and over in my head...then the image of it...THEN the taste of it! I tried to summon up the brain power to determine which McDonalds was closest to the Phoenix parking lot. I decided Jacksonville, though receiving bad service before, was still the most geographically convenient location.
Cheeseburger...and what goes with a cheeseburger? A chocolate shake! I semi-quickly deducted that I would not have the suction power to drastically intake the triple-thick chocolate calcium source my body so desperately required, so I switched gears to the easier source: chocolate milk.
At this point it didn't seem economical to not just make a meal of it. The more I thought about it, the more I realized french fries would be the ticket. So we have chocolate milk, french fries, and a cheeseburger. Scratch that, DOUBLE cheeseburger--better meat-cheese:bread ratio.
Last two miles (I'm pretty sure) I am plotting my plan of action once I get back to my car and cool off. Taking on my new philosophy of stretching when I get home due to the damage caused to our muscles, I walk for a bit and hop in my car. Feeling obnoxious, loopy, and exhausted I crank up the stereo--Jay-Z-Empire State of Mind...ah.
I zip through the drive thru and get my Mighty Kids meal; I consider which kid will get my prize (William. Ashley is getting too old anyway). Like they knew I was coming, the food is dangling out the window so all I had to do is grab and go. I down the chocolate milk (cold+chocolate=heaven) before I even leave the parking lot, then I dive into the french fries. Licking the salt off my finger tips, I remind my body that french fries have valuable potassium and sodium, both things lost through sweat, and I sweat a lot.! I save the best for last.
Cheeseburger The perfect marriage of salt, meat, cheese, crunchy pickles, katsup-mustard and those little-bitty dehydrated onions (can you buy these somewhere?). I feel like the picture of health! My body says,'Yes, you are!'
Fourteen freakin' miles all alone. I did make a friend though, perhaps you know him? He's this Scottish fella' and he makes fast, convienent tasty food.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Adventures in NYC
I say 'adventures' because there is more than one story to tell.
The Departure
After being told I am the worst mommy in the world for leaving my daughter to go run the NYC half marathon, I kissed my two favorite boys goodbye. I arrived in White Marsh to board the Megabus. While waiting in the bus terminal I met a 20-yr old college student who was either mentally retarded or stoned. He insisted on engaging me in conversation in spite of my obvious attempts to dodge it. First he tried to impress me with his literary skills, "Do you like to read?" "Yes, when I have time". He goes further to ask about authors, books, etc., all of which I shrug off. He attempts to press further by asking me about myself. As I unwillingly reveal little bits about myself to him we come to my teaching of martial arts. He wittily replies "Wow! You're just full of surprises!" With all my wisdom, eloquence, and poise I say, "Well, of course I am, but that's just because you don't know me". Board the bus: end of chapter.
Walking 500 miles
The Proclaimers song(thank you, Mike) kept playing itself in my head. It was a beautiful day in NY and on a day like this it's meant for walking; unless you are trying to save your feet for a race you trained really hard for. We (three ladies and I) could not get a cab to save our lives. I was the only one seriously concerned with this. Finally an unmarked town car stopped and claimed to be a cab. "How much?" "$20". $20 to take us 30 blocks? Fine. We jumped in. We checked into the Loews Regency five star hotel. Got upgraded to a suite; sweet. We had about 15 minutes to get ready to head back out to get to a 6:30 dinner reservation that was "right around the corner". After walking for another 15 minutes we found the restaurant. I gorged on salad, risotto, and an apple sponge cake.
After dinner we parted ways and Karen and I met Ed to sit down and catch up and discuss tomorrow's game plan. 10 o'clock roles around and I can do no more. Race anxiety and fatigue set in and we head upstairs for the evening but not before I stop at the front desk and ask for a 5 o'clock wake up call. Later, Karen gives me grief for getting such an early wake up call and I call down to the desk to change it to 5:30.
NYC Half Marathon
Like clock work, the sirens outside my window go off right at 5:00 am and within seconds I receive my wake up call. I know I called and changed it, apparently they didn't take note. I receive my second wake up call @5:30, thanks Five Star Hotel.
I must be an experienced racer, I'm excited but I no longer get nausea from race jitters like back in the day. I'm calm, collected and ready to go. I agreed to meet the other two gals downstairs at 6:15; they don't come down till 6:30. I'm keeping it cool. I am checking a bag and need to be there before 7:00. It was only a 10 minute cab ride. I made it with 10 minutes to spare.
My holding bin is much closer than theirs, so we part ways. My start line is 95th street and theirs is closer to 102, OUCH! I start a conversation with a man in my holding bin. He's in his early 60's and an experienced NY runner. He gives me some tid bits on running the Park. 7:30: the race starts.
I am so happy I finally get to run through Central Park. As many trips as I make to NYC I have never had the opportunity. I get a little emotional as I gaze around me. The park is huge, but it is surrounded by mammoth buildings so there is no delusion that you are still in an urban setting. Miles 1-7 go through the park. I knew after I started the race that I would need to go to the bathroom. Mile after mile I see lines outside the port-a-pots. I refuse to sacrifice time standing in line. Finally at mile 6 I see some w/ no line. I seize the opportunity. Only a 45 second pit stop and it was well worth it. I didn't want to have another mishap like the Baltimore Half '08 (don't ask).
After mile 7 the race leaves the park and heads down 7th ave. This was, by far, the best part of the race. It was awfully nice of them to clear all five lanes of 7th Ave. from traffic and pedestrians just for me (and maybe the other 11,567 runners). In front of me was Times Square. I pretended all the lit up signs on the buildings were reading, "Go Erin!".
After Times Square we rounded the corner onto 42nd and headed west. NY Roads are bumpy! If you don't look where you're going you could twist an ankle. I headed towards 12 Ave knowing Ed was there at the 44th st. turn around. Passed mile 9, passed the 15K, and headed into the turn around. Sure enough, there was Ed. With a big smile on my face I ran towards him with my arms out yelling, "Eddie!". He picked me up and gave me a big hug, asked how I feel, to which I said, "I feel like shit" and he told me I look great and he'll see me at the finish line.
Now, it was down 12th for the last 3.1 miles. I pushed and pushed; I was really wearing out, but kept at it. The race was so well organized. They put up signs at the 20K (12.4 miles) so you knew you had .6 miles to go. They also had two signs as you approached the finish: One said '400m to go' (one lap around the track) and then '200m to go' (half-track; time to sprint). I took off with all I had left. I finished the race with a new PR of 1:46:55 Top 25% overall, top 13% women, top 13% age group. (Added note: This race brought out world-class professional runners who are figured into the statistics)
I did it, and I really think I did it well. I am very pleased with my performance. I got foil wrapped and got my bling. I walked through the chute, picked up my checked bag of dry clothes and headed towards the Hudson River. I discreetly changed my shirt and sports bra (hey, it's an art). I climbed up on a wall and sat down, then sent Ed a text telling him where I was.
Ed
My one and only fan in NYC. He's also my hero. Where do I even start? He boosted my spirits with a big hug at 44th street. He found me in the mob of people in the finishing area. He carried my stuff. He held my hand as he fought through the crowd pulling me away from all the stress. His company and knowledge of NY were invaluable. We walked and talked and when I finally said I'm on the verge of becoming whiny we walked a little further and got a cab, but not before I got the chance to take in City Hall. I can't even begin to tell you what an amazing building that is! Oh, and let me add this: A cab to a New Yorker is a like a moth to a flame. Within seconds a cab pulls over to get us and I didn't even see Ed put his hand out.
We head back up to Chelsea to a diner he knows. Moonstruck. Ed treats me to an omelet and some great conversation. Though I am mentally and physically fatigued I try to keep up. He's just getting off a double night shift and hasn't even been to bed!
After breakfast, another cab magically appears at our side and we head back to my hotel. The cabbie forgot to put the meter on. In mid-ride he realized it and got mad. His driving reflected this. Meanwhile Ed keeps chatting away as if our lives are in no jeopardy. I finally say to Ed,"I am trying to follow what you're saying, but am too concerned for my life, you'll have to tell me the story again later." Ed just laughs.
We stand outside my hotel and chat for a while. Then he gave me a classic Ed hug and kiss and we say goodbye. I don't know what I would have done without him. I'd probably still be roaming downtown NYC.
A New York City Afternoon
I extended my checkout until 1, took a shower, and squeezed in a nap before the hotel gave me the boot. I really didn't feel like lugging a huge backpack around NYC so I got in a cab and went to Penn station. I hoped to jump on an earlier bus since Karen was successful doing so earlier today. First though, I had to run through some gift shops and grab some goodies for the kids.
The mob in front of the Megabus pick-up was like I have never seen. There was no system, no lines and the bus guys were not letting people get on unless their ticket clearly stated that time. I cut my losses, bought a sandwich and some chips, and went around the corner to the Post Office. I sat on the steps, eating my lunch and basking in the sun. It was so relaxing to sit and take it all in, and what a gorgeous day! I took some pictures to capture the memory(See picture uploaded from my phone).
I still had so much time to kill and I didn't want to walk around. I tried again to get on an earlier bus with no luck. I just wanted to get home. Feeling desperate, I went into Penn station to price a train ticket. Cheapest one-way ticket? $162 and it didn't leave until 5; my bus was at 5:30! Forget about it. I headed across the street and sat down in an Irish sports bar and got myself a Blue moon.
The Solider
A beer and a half later I was approached by a man. He told me he was an Army Ranger and he seemed quite proud of the fact. The light conversation soon turned to me mentioning martial arts training and how great it's been for me. I should have seen the warning signs when I merely asked what form of martial arts the Israeli's do. He responded, "Who cares? We are a better country, they would be nothing w/o us, blah, blah..." All I asked was the name of the martial arts!
I don't know what his intentions were when he approached me, I now think he only had one: to pick on me and ruin my day. He launched into how men are dying for our country and how naive I must be for going about my life not taking this into account, that at any moment my life could end because of bombs. I said I am aware these things can happen but what are you suggesting, that I go live my life in a bomb shelter? He said all 'yous peoples' only care about yourselves and your family, there are men DYING! Again, I said I know, what do you want me to do? I tried thanking him for his services, I tried telling him I appreciate what he is doing, I told him I am aware of how great our country is. Nothing would stop this man from belittling my life and my accomplishments. He said he does what he does so I can run my 'little' marathons. He said that I live in La-La land and that he lives in Reality.
At this point the gloves came off. I was done being nice to this guy. He didn't want a thank you. Clearly, he was a disgruntled solider with a gigantic chip on his shoulder. I told him, "My world, my life, IS my reality. I am living my life the best that I can. I have two children and they are amazing. I am doing my part too". Again with the dying bit. I said, "So let me get this straight, you want me to stop living my life to mourn the loss of solders dying, people I don't even know, but if my own children were to die you would think nothing of it?" The other shoe finally dropped. I had a decent beer buzz going mixed with fatigue, and I was done with this man. I looked him right in the eye and said, "Look I choose to appreciate life; I don't dwell on death." He about-faced and walked away. I guess once you go Iraq, you never come back.
Goodnight
After being nearly on the verge of tears, I finally boarded my bus. I popped in my ear buds, put on my sunglasses, and silently cried. God, what a day, what a life. I experienced every perceivable emotion in one day. Now...I'm finally home safe and sound.
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