JOY

One more thing to cross of the list.  

I slept in a run down hotel and woke up at 3:30 am; the alarm was set for 4:00.  I laid there awake and hungry.  The dinner from the night before was from an upscale Italian restaurant which served minuscule portions.  The only reason I ate at this restaurant was to meet a friend.  I was tired of walking around Philly using my feet so I settled on eating where we were.

My friend Chris and I got ready for our race.  I stood in the shower hoping to clear up some of the congestion from the cold I couldn't shake.  I already had a week of sickness and lack of running working against me among all the other recent stresses I've encountered in my life.  I just wanted to get this race over with.

We drove into Philly, grabbed the first parking garage we saw and headed over to the race. It was dead at the race site.  We arrived around 5:30 for a 7:00 start.  I was surprised there weren't that many people out yet.  So we did what all seasoned runners do before a big race, we crashed the closest four-star hotel to use its facilities, drink their coffee and hang out in warmth before it was time to head over.

Around 6:30 we walked over to the runners area.  Chris and I went to check our bags.  Since we had different last names and the UPS trucks were organized alphabetically we parted with no formal 'good luck', 'goodbye', or 'here's the plan for when we finish'.  After checking my bag I stood in line at the porta pot.  At this point I only had my shorts, a sports top and my gloves.  It was cold and the ladies in line wearing their long sleeves and jackets laughed at me for shivering.  I smirked back and said, 'You'll be wishing you were me after the race starts'.  They decided I was right.

I went to my assigned holding bin.  I stood, walked, stood, walked and stood and walked again until my wave had its official start 15 minutes after the race start.  As I jogged slowly through the start banner and into the streets no smile ever crept onto my face.  The crowds cheered, but it didn't feel like it was for me.  Let's just get this race over with, I thought to myself.

I didn't set a firm goal on this race.  After I finished Shamrock in the spring and got my BQ I promised myself that the next marathon would be one I would enjoy.  I would run at a nice comfortable pace, I would high-five spectators, drink beer and mosey through the water stops.  Let me repeat that, I wanted to enJOY this race.  SPOILER ALERT: At no point did I enjoy this race.

Knowing I pulled off at 3:35 marathon, I knew I could still run a solid sub-9 minute pace without any problems so I was at least determined to finish under four hours.  For the first 10 miles or so I managed to keep a decent pace that would still get me in under four.  But my cold was still present and I do have a very mild case of asthma thanks to allergies and a case of pneumonia three years ago.  I quickly learned during this race that the more I coughed, the more my chest tightened.  There were moments when I was a little panicked that I would have to stop to catch my breath.  You hear horror stories of people with asthma dying because they didn't have their rescue inhaler.  As much I thought most of my asthma was mind over matter, I wasn't so bold as to throw all caution to the wind.

So I focused on my breathing and tried to remain calm all while trying to hold a sub-9 minute pace.  The race starts with the half-marathoners, so towards the end of 13 miles the race splits the runners.  Half-marathoners go right, full marathoners left.  I was just not enjoying this race.  I really considered just turning into the half marathon chute and calling it a day.  However, I didn't sign up to run a half marathon.  I could run a half marathon in my sleep with the worst cold and after knocking back martinis the night before.  No, I trained for this race, I invested time and money in this thing and I was going to get what I came for even if it didn't have the ideal outcome.

So I headed off to the left with the rest of the marathoners, the pack finally thinning out.  As I headed out to mile 14, 15, and 16 the elites were coming in.  This was a good distraction for me to focus on something other than my displeasure with this race.  I looked for my really fast friends like Jackie Truncellito, Dan Miranda, Christian Creutzer and Chris Liberto. The race kept having us do turn arounds and it was killing me--the legs dont want to stop and do a sharp turn with that much mileage under them.

I pulled off a few decent miles between 16-18 and I downed a beer which seemed to have little effect either negatively or positive around mile 19.  Again as I headed into the area of Philly called Manayunk (not the name of a restaurant as I had thought before) where cheering spectators were aplenty I just couldn't absorb their enthusiasm.  When I came back around to the beer stop I grabbed another cup just for the hell of it.  Our bibs had our names on them, so I would hear people call out my name from time to time, but it was shortly after this that I hear from the crowd, 'Hey, Erin you have nice tits!'.  Thanks random pervert freak from the crowd, not the kind of thing a woman needs to hear at this point in the race.

My pace was all over the place for the last 10 miles.  I went from running 8:30s to 11:00 and then back again.  I really ran the whole race, walking a very small portion, but my legs hurt, my mind resented me and everyone else.  I tried to make this race my own, but I could only focus on the disappointment I had with myself.  I was stuck in the negative and had no motivation to do anymore than the bare minimum.

Marino--I kept seeing this woman wearing this shirt.  It was a neon yellow shirt with stick-on letters spelling out her last name.  She was around me almost the whole race.  It was just after mile 24 that I saw her again and this time she was walking.  I shuffled up to her and said, 'Lets go!'.  She started to run and I told her I have been seeing her shirt the whole race.  She was instantly grateful.  She said, You and me are gonna finish this together, we are gonna get eachother through this.'  As we ran I could tell she was struggling.  For me, the race instantly became easy.  I had no problem running now and I could go whatever pace she needed, but I pushed her into a solid 8:45.  I knew she could do it, we were both doing it several miles ago.  She would slump over and I would remind her to run upright.

We pushed hard into the finish.  Marino (Laura) moaned and groaned but kept the pace and we crossed with our arms raised.  We both wanted to come under 4 hours, but knew it was a bust when we first met up.  Still we were both relieved it was over and grateful to each other for the help.  We hugged and I said I would look her up.  I limped through the chute accepting my medal and space blanket.  It was over and now I could just stop.

My closest friends know what I am going through and can probably understand why I experienced such malaise with this race.  Running is my stress reliever, but sometimes getting proper training in for a big event like a marathon is just extra stress an already over-stressed life doesn't need.  This was my second worst marathon, with my first marathon being the worst.  I have Boston in the spring and I hope between now and then I will learn to bring joy back into my life.  It lives in me, its just a matter of tapping into it.  I apologize for the depressing blog, but not every run can be a PR and at least now I learned what I need to do!

Hierarchy and running

Note:  I wrote this several months ago.  I didn't publish it immediately because I didn't want to be thought of as a whiny ingrate.  But I think the time has come for my story to be told, not because I'm angry but because I'm ready.  Of course I tie it into running; it always comes back to running!  :-)

Some of you may not know that I'm not just a runner.  Before I started running as a real sport, I trained in karate.  For almost ten years I have trained in a traditional Japanese-style karate.  I've punched over 10,000 times and kicked almost as many.  I do kata (forms) and I spar with full contact.  I earned my first degree black belt three years ago.

In a traditional style of karate there is a hierarchy.  In many ways this is very beneficial to modern society because it helps us to remember to respect those who have been doing something longer than we.  Traditional karate is a dying style because most people are looking for a good workout and confidence booster in self-defense and nothing more.  Its a shame, because it is the origin of karate that makes it most beautiful.

While a traditional style of karate still contains both a good workout and confidence booster, it also has a spirit that is infectious if you allow it to seep in.  Almost like a cult, you have to truly buy into the philosophies of your karate-do if you want to get the most out of it.  This is what puts the 'art' in your martial arts.

I have trained hard for many years.  I followed those who were senior to me in rank and respected their teachings of spirit, wisdom and art.  I believed in my art because I saw how it recreated me and lifted me to a new point of achievement and self-confidence. I have also lead and had those in lower rank look up to me as a teacher and leader.

You earn your title and rank by putting in the time and showing how you have grown as a karateka (one who practices karate).  Karate is good for allowing you to leave your personal life outside and to train equally with everyone.  We all wear white gis, no jewelry, no make up.  Our minds are open and our hearts are pure when we train together.

In my style of karate we are incredibly fortunate to have a grand master who originated our art.  He is a legend in karate and is still teaching today. People travel from all over the world to take his classes and to be in his presence.  If you are fortunate enough to be in his school, there is no doubt you in the presence of true greatness.

With a hierarchy, though, comes politics and with politics comes the risk of tangling a very delicate web of a simple philosophy.  My karate-do (the way I train in karate) I am not immune to this entanglement.  I have trained with greatness and I have seen greatness fall.  I have been powerless to the hierarchy.

I was invited to test for my second degree. I trained, I studied, I invested, I traveled, I rearranged my schedule and most importantly I was honest. I spoke out but my voice was trumped by those who are senior to me.  I did what I was told, but I still lost.  It wasn't enough, my seniors have spoken. I did not get to finish my test. With my confidence shaken and embarrassed in front of my peers, I shut up and I went home.

I sat on my sofa for a long time.  I cried a little and replayed everything in my mind.  I just didn't see how things could have ended this way, it didn't make sense.  There was only one thing I could do, I put on a pair of running shoes and I took off.  I don't know how many miles I ran or how long I was gone. I don't know where I went or what I thought, I just ran.  No one was going to tell me I wasn't good enough, no one could take that away from me.

I earn my level of achievement in running by putting in the time and devoting myself to improving, all on my own free will.  No hierarchy can take that away from me.  We earn our place on the leaderboard by training hard, putting in the time, and pushing ourselves past our own limitations.  If only everything else could be so simple!