tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40844431495660915122024-03-19T13:11:23.161-07:00Running Examiner-Erin Sanders blogIn this blog:
I share my personal running experiences as I train, taper, race, and recover.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-76565353738001959052012-11-25T06:53:00.000-08:002012-11-25T06:53:36.977-08:00TOAST: NCRTM-RDYes, I know I'm not the Examiner anymore and yes I KNOW there are a million things I SHOULD be doing instead of writing. But today I was the appointed race director of the NCR Trail Marathon-a race that is 23 years running for the BRRC, a race created by the legend himself, Dave Cooley. I want to capture all the memories while they are still fresh, and since my brain is still buzzing though my body has booked a one-way ticket to La-La Land, I thought I should write it all down.<br />
<br />
I woke up at 4:40 am beating my alarm which was set for 4:56. Got my coffee, got dressed, made my cereal, poured the milk in Marc's coffee (oops!) and then in my cereal. Marc and I were out of the house by 5:30.<br />
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We arrived at Sparks Elementary a little before 6:00 am and unloaded some things into the school. I was shocked to see we weren't the first ones there. Dan Macedo, like the machine he is, was already pushing tables out to set up. Feeling a tad guilty for not being there first and he being the one doing all the work, Marc and I jumped in to help. I could already feel the panic and tension building in my body. I made a mental note that if I kept this up, I would crash too soon. As soon as I made that note, I wadded it up and threw it in the trash. Hey, I'm young!<br />
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All too quickly runners began unloading off of buses. Most things were set up at this point, but I suddenly began to get pulled in all different directions. Runners need special treatment and have questions only I knew the answers to. Volunteers weren't where I needed them to be, some didn't have things they required, people were asking me for ideas and opinions and my mind was empty. It was only 7:00 am and I was TOAST.<br />
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Things were beginning to smooth out and all tasks were being carried out. Volunteers solved problems and found ways to make their jobs work; most of them have been doing this for years, I was the new one here.<br />
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At 8:15 we headed up to the start and the runners followed. Everyone was in place and the race started with no problems. A few odds and ends later and Marc and I headed up York Road to hit the turnaround to check on the race. Runners were on track and on pace. Everything was running smoothly. Marc and I headed down to Glencoe to wait for the lead runner. We waited there for almost half an hour, finally here he came, but no Mitch. Mitch was lead bike and yet, he was no where to be found. I decided there was a good reason for this and figured he would let me know what happened later, I couldn't stress on it then, so we drove back to the school to watch the finish line and make sure everything was ready for the runners.<br />
After watching for a while, one man came across in serious pain. Brenda helped take him down to the school. I waited, but she never came back up. Not thinking much of it, Marc and I headed back to the school once again. I was going to take a minute and eat some soup. I lost Marc in the crowd, but managed to get my soup only seconds before Gene found me holding up the same guy Brenda brought down.<br />
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"He needs an EMT," says Gene<br />
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"I'm cramping up", says the runner who was shaking and refusing to sit down. I scan the room, see no EMTs and walk a brisk pace towards the main entrance.<br />
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"OH GOD, I'M CRAMPING UP!!! AHHHHH!," the runner screams bloody murder. It takes me the two seconds to walk out of the door to absorb this before it hits me that this guy is in real trouble! So I drop my soup and haul ass up the excruciating hill of the Sparks Elementary drive. I see Nut walking up ahead of me.<br />
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"Nut! there's a guy who needs an EMT NOW!"<br />
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"I know!". Nut was already on his way up to get the EMT, but I blow past him in a full sprint. I run up to the ambulance and bang on the window.<br />
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"There's a guy in the gym and he's screaming in pain!" EMTs are on it, and rush back to the school. I stop to catch my breath. The cold wind and the dead sprint were too much for my lungs and my asthma was very displeased with me at this point.<br />
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Once back in the school, I catch up to the EMTs and point them to the guy, who is still standing and still conscious. Not sure what the real issue was, but I had to right it off as a 'Drama Queen' incident and go back to work. If you're checking, the TOAST is still burning away (that's me).<br />
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After three or four more trips up and back from the finish to the school, its time to do the awards. My job: hand them out. I did my job, but I forgot to read the small print of award giver/race director in the Idiots Guide to Race Directing manual. It would seem that because I handed out the awards, I was also responsible for the results of the race. I always heard it was the men who were the highly competitive ones, and who demand their times changed, their excuses for why their race went wrong, and who was REALLY in front of who. But no, its the women, mostly between the ages of 50-59 who want their props. Some who didn't even do the race properly. (If you are reading this, and you know who you are: you made us work twice as hard in the freezing cold when you didn't do YOUR part as a runner! Though you were very appreciative after the fact, I hope you can understand how irritating and exhausting your contribution was!)<br />
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The race coming was to a close at this point, I can only sit and stare at people. Making a complete sentence was asking alot now. At one point I just laid my head in Marc's lap only to close my eyes for five minutes and be woken on the 6th by Dave to give me a report of the runner who had collapsed at mile 20 (turns out THATS what happened to Mitch-My Hero)<br />
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Now I am a smoking piece of TOAST. If you were to so much as sneeze my way, I would probably turn into a pile of ash. It feels like I stepped out of my body at approximately 6:59 am and have been hovering above it observing what I did. In my frazzled state I keep returning to all those that make this race possible: The volunteers. But before I list each one out, I just want to give a shout out to Charm City Run Events Team. Yes, I'm a little biased since I work for them, but they are the one part of this race that, at no point, did they add to my stress. I know I can count on Kelly and her team to do everything right and get the job done in an astoundingly competent way. Thank you guys for everything you do, you are such a big part to making this race a success!<br />
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Now on to the volunteers that affected me personally. I know there were many others out there that I did not see or talk to and I do thank you too, but below is a list of those who were vital to making my day great. This is in no order of significance: <br />
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Mitch Greenberg: You are a hero today. As the lead bike, you took personal responsibility for the lead runner to the point that when he collapsed you stayed with him and made sure he got the medical care he required. #27 Blue Under Armour shirt man was both hypothermic and dehydrated. He could have died if it weren't for you. That is no exaggeration. I'm so glad it was you as the lead bike and no other, thank you!<br />
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Brenda Dailey: You are a rock star! How you endured that finish line for over 4 solid hours in that bitter cold is beyond me! You were awesome up there and you took on each runner as if you were their only support, and for many that was absolutely true. Thank you for busting your skinny little butt! Luv you girl!<br />
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Christy St. Clair and Dave Cooley: Thank you for entrusting me with your race. I know it was hard to step back and allow me to drive, and there were times when I almost quit on you. Both of you are truly the backbone to this race and I certainly recognize everything you did and still do for this race. Thank you for all your support, help, guidance and friendship. You both are rocks in this club!<br />
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Bailey St. Clair: The bionic man. How you keep going all day is inspiring to watch. You take charge and know exactly what needs to be done. Even with all the curve balls thrown at you lately, you are still unshakable and completely reliable. I really do appreciate you!<br />
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Brian Flowers: Wow! You were awesome today! As the volunteer coordinator, you take on a huge percentage of the race planning and race day duties. Everywhere I turned, there you were checking on things and working. The club is really lucky to have you, and I'm so glad you were metaphorically by my side in all this as well. I am also glad you took the bullhorn to start the race. You told the runners exactly what they needed to hear and didn't falter one bit the entire day. Thanks again!<br />
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Marc, my Marc: The man few of you know and has been by my side for almost two years was once again right where I needed him to be. As far as a partner can go, you were perfect. You did what I asked, you helped when it was needed, and you got out of my way when I was blazing by. You comforted me, when I was on the verge of a mental breakdown and you reminded me that we were going to get through this day together. You were exactly what I needed when I needed it and I love you. Thank you, Tiger.<br />
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Mia Turo: Thank you for all that you do with the food. Taking this over a few years back, I think its safe to say you totally have everything under control. You were cool all day and everyone was so happy with the food. Thank you for picking up, organizing, and ordering what we need. Food is probably a third of the race planning, and you took it all on perfectly.<br />
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Vicki and Cristian Creutzer: The club's favorite couple (next to Bailey and Christy, of course) Thank you C-man for rockin' your water stop. I know I can always count on you. Vicki, you froze right along with Brenda, so all I said to her applies to you too. I don't know how you guys tolerated that and with a huge smile on your face the whole time, too! Thank you!<br />
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Robin Goodwin: The club's best cheerleader. Thank you for all your encouragement and kind words. You are simply sweet and your smiling face is infectious. Thanks for all your help today.<br />
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Nut Hall: I'm so glad to have your calm wit and feisty sense of humor around me during times of stress. You never seem to falter and you know exactly what needs done and you do it. You don't try to take over, push your opinion, or present yourself as the 'expert' of the group though I certainly know you are. Thanks for all your help.<br />
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Dan Macedo, Gene Grady, Katie (waterstop Glencoe), Tom Jennings, Bren Larkin, Kristina Lucido, Mo Hall, Zac Fisher, Jennifer Zanni, Dick Talbott, Mark Dees: You all added to my day in a positive way as well, so thank you!<br />
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I'm sorry if I missed anyone, like say, I'm toast. I'm actually finishing this the day after race, but wrote it last night. I had to write it all while it was swirling around in my head, but I knew I should probably proof-read it today. I don't think being a race director is a thankless job. I received a lot of 'thank you's and 'nice job's, but instead of turning to that person and letting them know I appreciate their kind words, I instead had to turn and go solve the next problem.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-82576831997781510572012-02-14T11:51:00.000-08:002012-02-14T11:51:00.986-08:00Cupid sucks: A Brief V-day runMy dear running friends who have patiently waited for me to get off the sidelines and into the game will be happy to know I just ran 3 miles today totally pain-free. Not a twinge, tweak or pinch--painless.<br />
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I just needed to run. I was going to go to the gym and do my usual regimen to keep some muscle tone and burn fat, but my head said 'run' so I did. It was sunny and 50, so I broke out the shorts. I looked in the mirror and panicked. Where has my ass gone? Man, I'm not ready to lose one of my best features just yet.<br />
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I ran along the water and around Fell's Point. On my way back in I ran along the water promenade. Three, count them, three men were walking towards me. All three of them had cell phones and their eyes glued to them. This hit me in a terribly wrong way. These three businessmen were not only doing something somewhat hazardous on an uneven surface, but they were about to let life's finer points pass them by...ME!<br />
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There was a day when boys would stop, whistle, and in general, stay aware of their surroundings. Now we are all so absorbed in our virtual handheld worlds that we are letting the good stuff <b>run</b> right by. Not today, I wouldn't allow it.<br />
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"Eyes forward boys!," I shouted as I zipped by. One paid attention and said back, 'What are you a school teacher or something?" As I ran, I turned back to see if there was any effect in my running wake. The one semi-conscious man stopped and watched me run away. He said something else, but I didn't hear him. I smiled, waved and kept on running.<br />
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I needed to run today to get back in touch with my senses. The gym seemed too artificial. My feet, outside, brisk air and sunshine was what stimulated me. Most people are walking zombies and turning further and further away from what is really there. I felt zombie-like so I threw myself into the elements.<br />
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Now, I think everyone needs to try a little experiment: Leave your phone home one day. See how many times throughout the day you wished you had it to distract yourself from small, awkward social situations. Summon up the courage to say something insignificant to someone. It could be 'nice day', or 'boy, gas prices are high'. Pay attention to how may others around you use and rely on their phones for distractions. Don't be this person! Don't let ME pass you by!Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-3673426624545928282011-12-06T08:06:00.000-08:002011-12-06T08:06:46.109-08:00Running with Dave"Erin, I want to run my first half marathon." Hard to believe the past BRRC club president, previous owner of Charm City Run Events team, and 4-time marathon runner, Dave Cooley has never completed a half marathon. But then again, half marathons weren't really en vogue when he was an avid runner.<br />
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"And I wanted to see if you would do it with me." My dear friend and running legend Dave asked me to help get him through his first half marathon. Of course I said yes, now it was just a matter of picking the right race and seeing what he's made of.<br />
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Initially he was going to run the Baltimore half marathon, but set backs and injuries occurred that prevented this from happening. So Dave settled on running the back portion of the NCR marathon relay, a race he founded over 22 years ago.<br />
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Dave trained for several months and I joined in whatever training runs I could to keep him on pace and to distract him from the discomfort the body goes through when its forced to do something it naturally does not want to do. We would meet up afterwards and discuss strategy and race day prep and I would give him training tips.<br />
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Race day was right around the corner and with all the set backs Dave, 79 had encountered he only managed to log in a 9 miler. I was a little concerned about this. One, because of his age and two, because that's 4 more miles of unknown. But his resolve forced me to believe that he could and would finish this race. I predicted our finishing time to be somewhere under four hours.<br />
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I had just run the Philly marathon the weekend before and was still feeling the effects of it. I re-damaged my foot and hoped that staying off of it for the entire week would somehow help me on Dave's big day.<br />
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I arrived at Sparks elementary right on time--8 am. I saw several friendly faces and chatted with them for a bit, but I knew I needed to cut it short so that Dave would know I was there and relieve some of his race day anxiety. I found him and gave him a big hug, smiled at him and said, 'You so got this' (my signature mantra for any hard race I do). Still playing race director, Dave had several duties to take care of before his personal race agenda could be conquered.<br />
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Promptly at 9 am, the race kicked off and Josh-owner of Charm City Run, Dave's mentee, friend, and first leg of the relay--took off. Dave came back to me and we boarded the bus to the exchange point just south of Bentley Springs.<br />
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Weather-wise, we couldn't ask for a better day. There was a definite chill in the air, but the sun was shining and the trail had favorable conditions. We walked the quarter mile to the exchange point. We projected Josh would be coming in around 10:40, so when he arrived earlier than expected we both had to put our game faces on and go.<br />
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Josh gave Dave a hug and wished him luck. I removed the chip from Josh's ankle and strapped it on Dave's. We were off!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0MD0GWRUsjb_In5ORwtEgOpio6IL-nPRLfCUrtNA3TZHFZEdtLtePZZoku-vzqlnMDHRuZpqr_MTTkro55D9lWlFb7lpP01IoaNIsVYtGdeLHquDxC8NTbjTIn0LsCvUfuKwbMHLT7il/s1600/388063_10100276341411504_11306982_49726312_1893681068_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0MD0GWRUsjb_In5ORwtEgOpio6IL-nPRLfCUrtNA3TZHFZEdtLtePZZoku-vzqlnMDHRuZpqr_MTTkro55D9lWlFb7lpP01IoaNIsVYtGdeLHquDxC8NTbjTIn0LsCvUfuKwbMHLT7il/s320/388063_10100276341411504_11306982_49726312_1893681068_n.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>First we had to head north to the turn around and then head back down the trail. We passed many of our adoring fans. Shouts of encouragement and sarcasm flew our way. It was time for Dave to receive the positive banter of the spectators instead of merely being one on the sidelines.<br />
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Dave was strong for most of the race. He pushed for three minutes then recovered for three and so on for up to 9 miles. I fed and watered him. I played receptionist while he focused on his performance. I tried to ease his worried wife's mind by only telling her encouraging things about Dave's progress.<br />
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Even though we were going at an easy pace for me, it was still a lot of time for me to be on my feet right after completing my own marathon. I was still on the mend from a nasty cold and my chronic foot issue was giving me trouble. On top of that I received a message from my father that my grandmother wasn't going to make it and I should be prepared to say goodbye to her. All in all, I had several things working against me. But this day was about Dave and seeing his goal through. Everything else would have to wait.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQwdqZPJ5i5rnl4COh84-cuQK3M5ferIrOFFtkWwHp1lZjOAte7l8HoWjQ1D5-3WcmNhovPx0RuZzBrcoveE0ju17PwiDCeUzERRpAB0AfV5XkgMYqeaeXfomNmsHsXlRaBl8j7tiPa-L9/s1600/381771_2589226206728_1136784051_4013724_1974676985_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQwdqZPJ5i5rnl4COh84-cuQK3M5ferIrOFFtkWwHp1lZjOAte7l8HoWjQ1D5-3WcmNhovPx0RuZzBrcoveE0ju17PwiDCeUzERRpAB0AfV5XkgMYqeaeXfomNmsHsXlRaBl8j7tiPa-L9/s320/381771_2589226206728_1136784051_4013724_1974676985_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>As we neared the end of the trail Josh came trotting up towards us. He was checking on Dave and asking if he needed anything. He and I focused on his work. Dave's support team grew when his daughter, Terry joined the group. All four of us cheered and encouraged as Dave's energy was quickly fading. We climbed York road to where Audrey, Dave's wife was waiting at the top. I told Dave that he should run past everyone and make them proud. Somehow he found the energy to push past the pain and bring himself back to a jog.<br />
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The last stretch was along Belfast road. A winding road with cars flying at you! I did my best to stay in front of Dave to flag down cars and draw attention to the incoming runners. Finally parked cars could be seen lining either side of the road-a sign that we were near the finish line. I instructed Dave to give it one last push into the finish. All four of us, Terry, Josh, Dave and I ran in to hear many cheers and congrats from all the people who have known Dave to be on the other end of the process. He was once again just another dumb runner collapsing at the finish line. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJM0gSkj48KgpXXZG1M3-fJ9BQ_CsyUEZZqBeQH3uwV_MUVQ19iwT1Ia31Ip8kxyrYOnZ6YCsUDdv02nFpvsytf_dh6JZMRnvjqN84De0oXxu02nTVIRZN-02E9XSqZTSviulYRm90jR-/s1600/309643_2589227086750_1136784051_4013726_838783915_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJM0gSkj48KgpXXZG1M3-fJ9BQ_CsyUEZZqBeQH3uwV_MUVQ19iwT1Ia31Ip8kxyrYOnZ6YCsUDdv02nFpvsytf_dh6JZMRnvjqN84De0oXxu02nTVIRZN-02E9XSqZTSviulYRm90jR-/s320/309643_2589227086750_1136784051_4013726_838783915_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Dave leaned on Josh and me and we received our medals, posed for pictures, and wrapped up in our space blankets. Dave finished right around 3:20.<br />
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I kept hearing 'thank yous' from friends and supporters. People were saying what a nice thing I did and how impressed they were that I did that. To me, it was a no-brainer. This is Dave Cooley, someone I have looked up to since I ran my first 5K. He has been an invaluable friend who would do anything for me. I can't think of a more deserving person and I am honored to be the one he chose to pull him through 13.1 miles. He was the rock star that day and I, just the back up band. Like a real star, he deserves all the credit. I'm just glad I got to be a part of the party.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-20467521464802947142011-11-22T16:30:00.000-08:002011-11-22T16:30:53.155-08:00JOY<b>One more thing to cross of the list. </b><br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<b>I didn't set a firm goal on this race.</b> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<b>Marino-</b>-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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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!Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-76809146851892995342011-11-15T10:44:00.000-08:002011-11-15T10:44:10.885-08:00Hierarchy and running<b>Note:</b> 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! :-)<br />
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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.<br />
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<b>In a traditional style of karate there is a hierarchy.</b> 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<b>You earn your title and rank by putting in the time and showing how you have grown as a karateka</b> (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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <b>I did what I was told, but I still lost.</b> 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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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!Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-61665290469352532572011-10-14T07:38:00.000-07:002011-10-14T07:38:30.579-07:00Ultra PA Ragnar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3aW40PuKZY9KlPFyLfDHoLuHtfzIZ1uBVbG7gewxfMMY0hjKv74HKoUqFO_5d_m3Yf8aWiWcggYqZlb-pzzRnP8fAXONmKoQ9qS9vEz4BOwLZhkuNwFc6ze-ana7WcF_TU-y6HFr_BKCL/s1600/DSC_0013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3aW40PuKZY9KlPFyLfDHoLuHtfzIZ1uBVbG7gewxfMMY0hjKv74HKoUqFO_5d_m3Yf8aWiWcggYqZlb-pzzRnP8fAXONmKoQ9qS9vEz4BOwLZhkuNwFc6ze-ana7WcF_TU-y6HFr_BKCL/s200/DSC_0013.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>It's not just running a total of 30+ miles. It's not just only getting a couple hours of sleep. It's not just getting in a car and sitting for hours after running a 10 mile leg and its not just eating quick, on-the-go junk-like foods that only tide you over for a short while. Its combining all of this to create a running experience like no other.<br />
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I clearly learned nothing from my suffering from last year running on a regular Ragnar relay team since I agreed to up the ante and run an ultra Ragnar team instead. An ultra cuts the team in half to just six runners who run two legs at a time ending with a total team mileage of 202 miles.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizTsxuTYvdiQBHAdAcmRcqt7-7aaarW_lQSJA6sBjiGgR7_geQIZlUKld02cVG_-85Obsst0o0fv9Zi32hrmIVqNiZwU48SauzZBIngDS5TJtC-J0OkOuea2AB_UXHncBAXMSCTCKPue4/s1600/DSC_0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizTsxuTYvdiQBHAdAcmRcqt7-7aaarW_lQSJA6sBjiGgR7_geQIZlUKld02cVG_-85Obsst0o0fv9Zi32hrmIVqNiZwU48SauzZBIngDS5TJtC-J0OkOuea2AB_UXHncBAXMSCTCKPue4/s320/DSC_0015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Our original cast of teammates was to consist of Capt. Christian, Baby Jeff, and Serge 'The Flying Frenchman', T (Tamara), Speed Queen (Brenda) and me. First we lost Brenda to a major glute injury and had to scramble to find a female to replace her. Then at the last minute we lost our beloved Coach Captain Christian to a plethora of injuries.<br />
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To take Brenda's place, not any old female runner would do. Christian somehow recruited Anna Piskoka-one of the top 10 female ultra runners in the world. Christian dubbed her the Polish Princess who is the most phenomenal runner I have ever met. She is quiet, but sweet and an amazing teammate. We she runs, she glides; she's a machine.<br />
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With less then two weeks before the race and Christian being unable to run, he somehow finds another exceptional runner who amazingly surpasses even Christian in both experience and mileage. The one, the only Henry Peck.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZe7GtlGEjkbkhFyv3-cjXXlN_rMkQ5zyEhJ2XIgqiHP2wQX9ZtF289H_WrJpZQPNFwNwtSDfbBK7XD8Lnz_7KztW7kZBY9krodnbOwz_Ioc2otcZ6mOFODCj4DCVw1Q_pw61RgzfKACC/s1600/DSC_0027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZe7GtlGEjkbkhFyv3-cjXXlN_rMkQ5zyEhJ2XIgqiHP2wQX9ZtF289H_WrJpZQPNFwNwtSDfbBK7XD8Lnz_7KztW7kZBY9krodnbOwz_Ioc2otcZ6mOFODCj4DCVw1Q_pw61RgzfKACC/s320/DSC_0027.jpg" width="164" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coach Captain Christian</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Even though Christian was discouraged by not being able to run, he still agreed to be our captain and driver. We loaded the van at Serge's house around 8:30 and then hit the road. It was just under two hours to Lancaster. Anna, living in PA, met us at the start. <br />
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After our safety meeting, a little Ragnar garb shopping, and some pre-race food and drink, T headed to the start. At 11:30 the airhorn went off and 15 runners ran through the Ragnar blow-up structure. Little T shot past most of the runners. When her first leg was done, she got 13 kills-the most we would have the entire race. This was the inaugural year for Ragnar PA, and there were only about 120 teams.<br />
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Next it was Anna's turn. She glided through her leg and our van supported the whole way. She seemed unable to escape the smell of manure. Little did we know that we would never really escape the smell throughout the entire race. Something about this time of year, all the farms were spreading it over the freshly harvested fields. But it gets worse...<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKh1_7Ve923oZMmcQpbIfERK8UCG4w9DkvCVVBgQee66FVt6p275u4oIhyphenhyphenn2el3XPMbWy2geeQmpZetJ2-16jw7ZWLbdbZkhhjWdUvuVwKWAi0O97yPjVvrbUojW3pm97eAjLQGacrk2m/s1600/DSC_0021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKh1_7Ve923oZMmcQpbIfERK8UCG4w9DkvCVVBgQee66FVt6p275u4oIhyphenhyphenn2el3XPMbWy2geeQmpZetJ2-16jw7ZWLbdbZkhhjWdUvuVwKWAi0O97yPjVvrbUojW3pm97eAjLQGacrk2m/s320/DSC_0021.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Henry and Anna</td></tr>
</tbody></table>As Anna came in, I was on deck next. I was jipped with my first leg and only had to run five miles. It was the peak of the day with the heat and I roasted as I pushed through my teaser miles. I handed off to Henry and my turn was over just as quickly as it started.<br />
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I think we all felt the need to really push that first leg even knowing we had two more to go. Everyone looked to be in top form. Henry was pushing 7-minute miles, T and Anna weren't far behind that pace. Jeff came after Henry running at 6:30s and last up was legendary Serge who shot out of the exchange almost in full sprint running 6:00 m/m. We drove through Intercourse Village, and of course found it amusing taking pictures. Then we passed Blue Balls Bowling alley. Who are these people and how do they get away with these names? The names were not the most entertaining portion of this stretch, however. We were in amish country and Serge was actually racing a horse and buggy. If anyone can out-kick a horse, its Serge!<br />
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The guys were so fast that the girls had little time before we were up again. I had approximated when everyone would be running and it seemed like I had been too conservative. We were easily 45 minutes a head of schedule.<br />
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Tamara took the slap bracelet/relay baton from Serge and started her second leg. It was now dark so we had to wear our required reflective vests, head lamps and tail lights. T started in the country and ended in Reading, PA. Reading is a very sketchy town. We were pretty sure signs had been swiped and on top of that the vans were routed another way while the runners had their own course. We got lost trying to get to T's exchange point. I sent her a text telling her not to worry and we are on our way. We lost about 10 minutes trying to get to her.<br />
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After we finally recovered T, Anna was on her way. We made sure to try and stay close to Anna as she ran though some rough neighborhoods in Reading. This really was not a well-planned portion of the race and it was down-right dangerous for runners to be in that part of town at night. We carried our phones on these legs, which came in handy since keeping track of Anna posed more of a problem then we expected.<br />
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The course was routed out of the city temporarily and up a massive hill to a fire tower which overlooked the whole city. As Anna climbed, we headed to the top for me to get ready for my second leg. The view was amazing. Reading's night lights sparkled below and you forgot for a minute how shady certain areas really were.<br />
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The air was getting cooler, but I was still okay in just a T-shirt and gloves. Anna arrived, handed off to me, and I set out at 10:00 pm for my second and longest leg--14 miles. Beginning at the top of a hill and heading down for what seemed like forever, I could not gauge the pitch of the hill in all the darkness. Tie in that I was really scared of running in at night and I was flying down the hill. I seriously thought about reconsidering running this portion of the race due to the isolation and blackness. I was uncomfortable being out there by myself with nothing or no one in sight, but I was also too proud to admit it to my team. After a few minutes in, I threw my gloves in the van and exchanged them for an extra flashlight. It felt a little better to hold a light that I could point at every questionable sound that came out of the brush along the road.<br />
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The entire first part of my two-part leg was down hill--a total of 4.6 miles. Towards the end of this portion my quads were screaming at me. I did my best to ignore them since I had another 9 miles to go. I re-entered the town of Reading, and Henry being the dad that he is, was worried for my safety. Honestly, living in Baltimore, I didn't feel it was unsafe and after finally leaving the utter darkness coming down the fire tower hill, I thought it was a relief to be back in civilization and street lights.<br />
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I ran for what seemed like forever. As much as I appreciate my van checking on me, I needed to just be left alone in my head. I needed to focus on surviving this run and the disruptions were breaking my concentration. I wasn't running this portion for speed, I was running it to survive.<br />
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For some reason, the race routed my course off the main road and onto a dirt road that went through a farm even though it paralleled the road the whole time. Not being able to see that well, I went slowly and noticed the water on the road a head. The farm wreaked of the usual manure we have come to accept as the theme of this race. What I quickly learned, though, was that the dirt road I desperately tried to navigate was strewn with the odorous fertilizer. Add in the water and you get a lovely sludge of manure mud that is invisible in dim lighting. Of course I tramped right through it! After partially submerging one foot, I stopped and shone my light around looking for a dry path out of the manure lake I had somehow become surrounded by.<br />
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Finally I was back on dry land and paved roads. Don't be deceived by the description 'rolling hills'; this just translates to endless uphill climbs and quad-killing downhills. Rarely was anyone spared either throughout the entire 200 miles. I climbed and quad-killed all the way in and finished around midnight. Henry headed out and I fell asleep not waking until Henry was back again. I have no idea how his leg went and that was all the sleep I got for the rest of the race.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiest8CjIcRgw6gDvBOZuONSVegRnkxN1-29IyQly5wsSCDuf-doC2qG0hhKubSWdBHdZ-y3l8Ug73G9x9YJvD0ymSoUCCLenkdeJPlJuiH6b-_IZCQmo_ZOxX-up0agmlg3FdmHFyaiyfX/s1600/DSC_0052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiest8CjIcRgw6gDvBOZuONSVegRnkxN1-29IyQly5wsSCDuf-doC2qG0hhKubSWdBHdZ-y3l8Ug73G9x9YJvD0ymSoUCCLenkdeJPlJuiH6b-_IZCQmo_ZOxX-up0agmlg3FdmHFyaiyfX/s320/DSC_0052.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the stuff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The van was crammed with stuff and finding a place to stretch out and sleep wasn't easy. I rearranged some things in the back and slept on top of bags of stuff. In my almost comatose state, I heard Anna asking, 'What IS that smell?!'. I had a sneaking suspicion, but I was too tired to worry about it. Anna sniffed out the stench only to discover it was my shoes. I don't know why I find this amusing, maybe because I was already annoyed that I had to run through the manure and I was the one who almost lost my cookies trying to navigate out of the poopy mine field. When I woke later, I wrapped my shoes in plastic bags and hoped I could get the smell out at home.<br />
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Henry, Jeff and Serge then ran their second legs. Serge was nursing a serious case of plantar faciitis and needed several minutes to warm up. All the guys performed strong and once again it was the ladies turn.<br />
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After T and Anna had another dark run in the early morning hours, I was up. I was still tired and my quads throbbed, but I was mentally ready to get my final leg over. It was during Anna's run that we discovered we had caught up to our competition who started an hour and a half before us. I knew I wasn't the runner to over come them, so I plodded along wincing on the downhills.<br />
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My run still seemed doable. It's strange how one can go to thinking 'God, I still have to run 9 miles' to 'Hey, it's only 9 miles'. My run was slow at just a 10 min pace, my legs were hurting, but I chugged through to finish at the high school where my cheering teammates waited for me. I handed off the Henry and I was done!<br />
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It was on Henry's leg that our team overtook the competition. Henry ran some serious hills for 17 miles. He is a phenomenal runner and was always hopping out of the van to run beside us, assisting in our hydration needs along the way. He was the only one who seemed unfazed by the mileage and fatigue.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bSX5dJ4uWAXVzDXBVzaTr9dhDC_UQxOO9_gdibLCgHlOor6KLcSkGlDK9GQ1pQI1hLyd8JwPSLb7DBVoM5xuqouZHWU9xVtl0gAY0b0xWv1GjaV-I3vNfsedQtXOqkLgGwkwHHJxpvbo/s1600/DSC_0033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bSX5dJ4uWAXVzDXBVzaTr9dhDC_UQxOO9_gdibLCgHlOor6KLcSkGlDK9GQ1pQI1hLyd8JwPSLb7DBVoM5xuqouZHWU9xVtl0gAY0b0xWv1GjaV-I3vNfsedQtXOqkLgGwkwHHJxpvbo/s320/DSC_0033.jpg" width="242" /></a></div>By now the sun was up and warming things quickly. Henry handed off the Jeff who insisted running in a long sleeve shirt. Jeff was on his longest leg of 16 miles and was not hydrating enough. A guy who can almost always been seen running with a smile was looking quite miserable. Both Anna and Henry knew that he was going to bonk and decided to pace him through.<br />
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Anna jumped out first and handed him gatorade. She ran with him for several miles and then Henry jumped in next. They were teaching Jeff Running 101: After the bonk it's time to walk, drink, run, repeat. So over the course of several more miles this is what the trio did.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JrLXS0r_-OVHezA7anh1jXSkQfWj4Q7knzJ5whzehq6R1Ba8dpswvWCt402r4GZXgTvk9r8ged83KZOSS-QJQtMEk1uFqr8skWPmOLnBZ9-G76zLY7OT3A62iJLaMGWKsUtmHec-S4IZ/s1600/DSC_0035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JrLXS0r_-OVHezA7anh1jXSkQfWj4Q7knzJ5whzehq6R1Ba8dpswvWCt402r4GZXgTvk9r8ged83KZOSS-QJQtMEk1uFqr8skWPmOLnBZ9-G76zLY7OT3A62iJLaMGWKsUtmHec-S4IZ/s320/DSC_0035.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>The van skipped ahead to Jeff's finish line so Serge could warm his throbbing foot up. We anxiously kept our eye on the horizon looking for our threesome to come run/walking in. They had quite a hill to conquer in the sun before they came down to the end. Finally they all came in, Henry smiling and Jeff relieved it was over. Serge took off on his final 10 miles.<br />
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Christian knew that Serge would be fine and that he didn't require anything from us. Serge just needed to focus on the run. We headed to the finish line to wait for Serge. Finally we spotted him coming in. All of us jumped in with him and ran towards the finish. My quads said 'no', but I gave them no choice and we all pushed into the end. We heard our team named called and it was wrongly announced that we were the first ultra team to finish.<br />
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We celebrated with beer and burgers and laid in the shady grass. We reminisced about the race and exchanged stories with other teams. One thing's for sure, running a Ragnar is an all-time high in team spirit!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZWBObWLc5luIbv0-jvFCrPEeVPbkTwylqKsxDc_q5lwPfYTljFn20sBl-XPDGz2a9sMDUQARpsSeWf1ZwJWvRUAAU87WgAI64mnltrje6OOu-HbMRyc-Z5amkdTT0YiCF7WIH3DW2nmo/s1600/DSC_0049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZWBObWLc5luIbv0-jvFCrPEeVPbkTwylqKsxDc_q5lwPfYTljFn20sBl-XPDGz2a9sMDUQARpsSeWf1ZwJWvRUAAU87WgAI64mnltrje6OOu-HbMRyc-Z5amkdTT0YiCF7WIH3DW2nmo/s320/DSC_0049.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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As it turns out we were the first mixed ultra team to finish and fourth overall. There is some speculation to the legitimacy of the teams that placed ahead of us; an ultra team must be 6 (or less) runners who each run two legs at a time, not one. There is no doubt that my team gave it 100% and we rocked that Amish country side for all its worth!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdiEcurP9vNSp38bmib3rO6JgLrqPZCN-Qb6sudA5p3TaZH4L99HhICYCljLBPY-DYNRZeHzscZ2nievO3nr6cOzwAlT_ns7J0T5ZdVIiS8x6c0jbOcFjKdV34ACNnGqAEvCsHBMKSTpBA/s1600/DSC_0054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdiEcurP9vNSp38bmib3rO6JgLrqPZCN-Qb6sudA5p3TaZH4L99HhICYCljLBPY-DYNRZeHzscZ2nievO3nr6cOzwAlT_ns7J0T5ZdVIiS8x6c0jbOcFjKdV34ACNnGqAEvCsHBMKSTpBA/s320/DSC_0054.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-25633765101793599822011-08-01T05:55:00.000-07:002011-08-01T05:55:57.958-07:00Carrots and Iced Tea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPVEPNfnfI4qL1x2mthceSBsIUSWT46vY7CM8dTfcUaefguJKfNX6447XK662Uz_1rHjSMOrxWyX7gNyI0chWHmayVkpBRmv4f7JO-0dCA9Kqz5t5GtBKutLLZPf4y_yKpFXU82aUEyFw/s1600/IMG_0343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPVEPNfnfI4qL1x2mthceSBsIUSWT46vY7CM8dTfcUaefguJKfNX6447XK662Uz_1rHjSMOrxWyX7gNyI0chWHmayVkpBRmv4f7JO-0dCA9Kqz5t5GtBKutLLZPf4y_yKpFXU82aUEyFw/s200/IMG_0343.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>It's such a simple thing--running. You put on a pair of shoes and you just go. It is the most simple and efficient sport out there. Want to drop weight quickly? Run. Want to free your soul? Run.<br />
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It's a selfish thing--running. Its time by yourself to be alone in the scariest place in the world--your head. But it can also create unspeakable bonds with others just because you know you couldn't have done it without the help of another person. That person can be a total stranger, but they can also become your life support.<br />
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B and I met at the NCR trail. People who know me, know I HATE that trail, but it does have it's perks. Its flat for one thing. It's also shaded and somewhat scenic. You're isolated from roads and civilization and as you run along, if you're lucky, you'll hit cold pockets of air trapped beneath the trees which can be revitalizing on a sweltering day.<br />
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Brenda is always good to go whatever. I asked her how far she wants to go and of course she said she doesn't care. We agreed on 8 so I could get an even 30 in this week. We took off at a very brisk pace in the afternoon on a 95 degree day. One of the bad things about the trail is the monotony. Even though I had Speed Queen by my side, I quickly got bored.<br />
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We went up to six and back. On the way back towards Sparks, I had to stop to pee. B wanted to stop to hurl. Whatever she ate did not agree with her. "Hey Erin, come look at my carrots!" Being totally unimpressed I walk over to see her remains, "God B, did you even chew them?" We took off for the remaining two miles. Yeah, 'Hardcore' is our middle names.<br />
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It's hot and I just wanted the run to be over. B ran in front pulling me along. She does well focusing on someone in front of her, pulling her. I get a little sea-sick watching the bouncing, so I looked over her shoulder and used the invisible cord to pull me along. <br />
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Remembering its always more encouraging to think about how far you've come and not dwelling on what's left, I say, "7.5 in" and then "a tenth left, lets give it all you got." We push it in. B stops, she's going to be sick. I try to keep her moving and drinking water, she gets sick again.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheork5nqLfji-3SLxKJ2MD8mQbvGf1rOZYU82kUYofJ8dzUFKwmRMCRMDOCxwbf_DurAHyN_hyphenhyphenOe-_DC0xSR8ZPgpe9MTR0vrRF3qrMi4L2DTDSjewJRYqFJ0exHDncOnODPdmKb0NdJHg/s1600/IMG_0353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheork5nqLfji-3SLxKJ2MD8mQbvGf1rOZYU82kUYofJ8dzUFKwmRMCRMDOCxwbf_DurAHyN_hyphenhyphenOe-_DC0xSR8ZPgpe9MTR0vrRF3qrMi4L2DTDSjewJRYqFJ0exHDncOnODPdmKb0NdJHg/s320/IMG_0353.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Now it's time to do what pulled me through the run. The sweet prize of the cool down. We walk back to B's car and get our cups of iced tea. We head down the steps that descend to the Gunpowder River. Strip the shoes off and wade in. Iced cold beverage in hand I sit down and let the river run over me. Ahhhhhh!<br />
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It's B's turn. She walks over to me, hands me her cup and falls face first into the river. We sit there in the river letting the cool water bring us down and chat for several minutes. We talk about the amazing athletes we know and are privileged to have in our lives, we talk about men past and present, and we talk about our goals for the future. She and I get it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTAa8osD0xv48oW3JrdlNELGQGLjCrMl8ufd_AbxRPqAxQb9n8BijufHF8TGu9MIUbsHUynrzj50ww2K7nHfIyzufG0hPTMb1UtI7AyCxtPSt1EL6xzavaW66DEJXJ61EjWoHQPfMx4Im/s1600/IMG_0355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTAa8osD0xv48oW3JrdlNELGQGLjCrMl8ufd_AbxRPqAxQb9n8BijufHF8TGu9MIUbsHUynrzj50ww2K7nHfIyzufG0hPTMb1UtI7AyCxtPSt1EL6xzavaW66DEJXJ61EjWoHQPfMx4Im/s200/IMG_0355.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>The run isn't just about the run. It's the metaphor that we buy into. I've heard some people who run say they don't consider themselves runners. They say they don't really love it. I agree, these people aren't really runners. Not because they haven't completed a marathon or because they walk sometimes, but because they don't use running as a source to pull from within, they don't see it as who they are. Fast, slow, long, short--if you run because it defines you and it helps you stay in touch with yourself, you are a runner. Even if you only like 5K's and never run a marathon, if you know that the run is what feeds you, then you have crossed over into the runner's world. That's why I say the run isn't just about time on your feet, its about what comes before and after and sometimes, sometimes its about the carrots that come during.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-5496607594393545372011-07-16T12:25:00.000-07:002011-07-16T12:25:25.439-07:00Scht, schtTime to dust off the running shoes and put some real miles on them! Finally willed myself out of bed and out the door to the first Baltimore Marathon course run put on my Falls Road.<br />
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We met in the Inner Harbor by the Baltimore Visitor's Center. What a great turn out! I looked around trying to find B and KBF. Instead of finding either I ran into Billy. I haven't seen Billy since we were training for our Spring marathons, so I gave him a big hug and we agreed to run together. Just as we were about to head on B aka Brenda aka Speed Queen shuffled up and we took off. <br />
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I introduced the two to eachother and we sunk into a comfortable pace. Speed Queen (SQ) isn't just a nickname, the girl is fast! But she's coming back from injury and was happy to go easy. Billy and I trained together a few times before so we knew we were about the same pace pre-slacking off.<br />
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Running through the not so nice areas of Baltimore, we passed some condemned buildings and were greeted and encouraged by the early morning smokers out on the street. Two miles in and Billy does a face plant.<br />
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Now, being the insensitive person that I am, I had to hold back a laugh. He landed pretty hard on the curb and it really shook him up. He cautiously clamored back on his feet looking around for what he tripped over. I saw nothing and joked that he tripped over his feet or crack in the sidewalk. I've certainly come close to the same thing more times than I want to admit.<br />
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Billy bends over to pick up a big coat hanger ring. His feet were entangled in it and this is what threw him to the ground. Poor Billy, he scraped his chin and knees and his finger was bleeding. We spiffed him up with water and SQ's tushy wipes and started back at an easy pace.<br />
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There were always other people around so we weren't in any trouble of getting lost. When we would come up behind another small pack of runners I would quietly say, "Scht, scht" and point around them. This was our clue that we need to pass these people who are holding us up without actually saying the words, "Lets pass these polkies."<br />
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It was about mile 6 I spotted KBF aka Karen. She jumped in late and was running by herself. I introduced her to SQ and Billy and we all ran together occasionally splitting up and rejoining. Glad I was in good company and still feeling good, we ran back to home base to refill water and thank Jim Adams for putting this on.<br />
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SQ and Billy were in the lead and KBF and I hung back. We ran out to Under Armour and then turned back. This gave us just over 11.5 miles. KBF parked way out in BFN so I said good bye and headed back to home base hoping to see SQ and Billy. But alas, they were gone, my guess putting in more miles.<br />
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I was secretly hoping one of the could give me a ride back, but I had to run it in to bring my total to 13.3 for the day. That was juuuuuuuuuust right for my first long run back since I don't know when. I guess I should start focusing on marathon training. I'm signed up to run Philly, but the thing that's really got me concerned is doing the Ultra Ragnar Relay in October. I'm on a team of really good, really competitive people. Time to focus!Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-27526955848203035262011-06-26T17:24:00.000-07:002011-06-26T17:24:31.975-07:00Dead Sprint<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDT9epEAe1u2egnSVNRuTLYh3MT0BSG1rZQvUF5C3o6OFRrELKlNE2XeoTYX8qJhgZUiQWWBwS1ySxJYjmcjUccwsuDntkoL-gO9zMj8oF9YVyCJRhJZnhnikUEZm7oTfnjS1ZqBybvXaM/s1600/IMG_0278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDT9epEAe1u2egnSVNRuTLYh3MT0BSG1rZQvUF5C3o6OFRrELKlNE2XeoTYX8qJhgZUiQWWBwS1ySxJYjmcjUccwsuDntkoL-gO9zMj8oF9YVyCJRhJZnhnikUEZm7oTfnjS1ZqBybvXaM/s320/IMG_0278.JPG" width="237" /></a></div>Ah yes, the Dreaded Druid Hills 10K. Not a PR course, for sure. I have put it off long enough and the horrible memories of this race have faded away. I think it has easily been five years since I ran this event. Like childbirth, you forget how miserable and painful it is so you will do it again; its nature's way.<br />
I was lucky enough to get my race fee comped by the powers that be at Falls Running Store. (Thank you, you know who you are.) So I had no excuses not to show up and run this event. The weather somewhat cooperated and it wasn't brutally hot and humid like so many years past. Because the only thing worse than torturous hills is the addition of extreme heat!<br />
For those that are not aware of this race, and most who read this are in the know; the DDH has seven unforgettable hills. These hills are not thrown at you until after mile three. It's always fun to hear the first timers around you comment on the pre-hills of the race. They complain how horrible the hills in the first few miles are, but these baby speed bumps are not what the race is truly famous for being.<br />
It's not that the hills are steep or long or winding to a never-ending peak, it's that they are all three of these combined. Jim Adams, owner of Falls Running Store and race director, can always be found on the course right around the beginning of the nasty hills. He makes himself available to hear your sarcastic thank you's, your vulgar cursing, and your wheezing gasps. He knows you'll be back next year.<br />
I set out to run this race at a pace that was comfortable and livable. My running has not been at the forefront of my life these days so I wasn't shooting for any amazing time. Plus this is the DDH we're talking about. Theres not a lot of point to try and race your ass off on this excruciating course. So I ran at a strong, steady pace sans Garmin and only my regular watch. I was hitting decent splits for a runner on the decline. I climbed the hills and carried my own water. I was out to survive and run, that's it.<br />
It was the last mile the course of my race changed. My friend Mitch jumped in all smiles. I informed him that if he wants to run with me he has to be quiet, I needed to concentrate. There were two women in front of me that I had played leap frog with throughout the race. "You are going to pass those two," Mitch says. Annoyed that he was telling me to do something I already planned to do, I said, "You don't get to tell me how to race."<br />
I caught up with the first woman. She was pleasant and encouraging, "Nice pace you're running!". "Thanks," I say, "you too." I pull away from her and set my sights on the next one.<br />
The woman in the green shirt and spandex shorts. With only the last turn around Druid Lake I approach her. She sees me beside her and picks up the pace. I do the same. She insists on being in the lead, but I refuse to let her have it so I lock on to her pace. She kicks in another boost and so do I. The finish line is less than 100m away. She takes off and so do I. We are in a dead sprint to the finish. My heels are kicking my own ass. I haven't pushed it this hard or wanted to beat someone so bad in a very long time! But I had to have her, I had to take her down!<br />
I would say technically we crossed at the same time, but I got my tag torn first and that means my name will be before hers. Hey, that stuff matters especially when I managed to pull my A-game out of nowhere and beat this woman who was most likely in my age group.<br />
After we crossed the finish line, I turned to my competition and high-fived her and quickly walked off to bring myself down. I had to walk for a bit to talk myself out of hurling. I haven't pushed it that hard since my track racing days. <br />
It's fun to race like that when you least expect it. I was just running that event, but GreenShirt SpandexShorts made my race much more meaningful and memorable. Thanks GS-SS! I think her name was Stefanie Gisler, and yes, she is the same age!Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-82777408619317166932011-04-18T17:00:00.000-07:002011-04-18T17:00:06.318-07:00Lost stuffHas anyone seen it? I can't remember where I put it. I've looked everywhere for it but am at a total loss. I've lost my stuff. What does that mean? Well, as a runner you have 'stuff'. This 'stuff' is what makes you move further and faster. This 'stuff' motivates you to keep pushing the envelope and shoves you out the door.<br />
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I started writing for the Examiner over a year ago mostly just to keep myself motivated and inspire myself to keep up my running. It worked for a very long time and my running greatly improved. I went from believing I was locked into a 10-minute mile for the rest of my life to nearly breaking a 7-minute mile in a 5K.<br />
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Not only did my running improve with my writing, but my knowledge about the sport, races, and the people involved, whether they be celebrity runners or inside contacts to companies and races. Was I a local force to be reckoned within the running community? No, but I did create a name for myself and I am proud to say I did it all by myself.<br />
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Now, make a list of all the stresses one can deal with in their life. Take that list, cross of a death and a birth, and you come up with all that I am dealing with. My running has always been a source of solace to help me cope with the stresses of life. Just slap on a pair of shoes, head out the door, and solve the problems that stare you in the face.<br />
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These days, like looking for a lost contact lens, I find myself walking in circles feeling the ground in search of my 'stuff'. Time is a big issue. I get it now. Working full time and training is an incredibly difficult feat to pull off. I still firmly believe that if you want to do something you will find a way to make it happen. But, there are only so many hours in the day. You can sacrifice sleep, but you running is going to pay for it.<br />
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How do you get your stuff back? What else can be put on the back burner to get your miles in? Nine hours of work + 7 hours of sleep + eating + bathing + time with family and or friends leaves you with little more than 30 minutes, or so it seems. How do you find the time to train? What sacrifices do YOU make to get your workouts in? Who pays, what pays, so that you can get your sanity fix? The price is steep; are you worth it?Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-27956993720063632582011-03-24T16:10:00.000-07:002011-03-24T16:11:08.880-07:00I kinda BQ'd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIK4i5yI07VFlZWZ5KZCcDX_p22avszXgQgs7noe6_YYLK1U4WZpRVDgoAc_N2LJ-Bat7bwC4qMHfsEJDCLrGyRwJ2_50X5hbSHs4biFWGFlvzD7uOORzJ1Jr0viiPg4LpRI5gB5nrtwO1/s1600/spri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIK4i5yI07VFlZWZ5KZCcDX_p22avszXgQgs7noe6_YYLK1U4WZpRVDgoAc_N2LJ-Bat7bwC4qMHfsEJDCLrGyRwJ2_50X5hbSHs4biFWGFlvzD7uOORzJ1Jr0viiPg4LpRI5gB5nrtwO1/s320/spri.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>Wow! Has it really been since December that I last wrote about my running adventures? Clearly my mind<br />
has been in another place. I've been running, I swear! Writing? Not so much. Let's see if I can remember how to do both...<br />
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After running the Springfield Marathon, I was ampted to try and run a marathon that actually had crowd support and a real expo (not a rack of clothes and a free pencil). I was determined to make sure all my ducks were in a row for this marathon. I trained well with only a one-week sideline of major illness. I made sure I logged in a 20 and 22 miler. I ran longer runs at race pace. I cut out alcohol for an entire week, and the most crucial piece was to employ my dear friend and coach Christian to pace me through my 3rd marathon.<br />
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After his return from a stress fracture, Coach Christian (CC) ran my last few long runs with me in preparation for my much-anticipated marathon. He got me though an easy 22, he pushed me through the difficult last 5 miles of a 17-miler, and pace-ran a 13 mile taper run. He had higher ambitions for me than I did; he thought I could run a marathon at an 8:10 pace. I only needed an 8:23 to qualify for Boston; I had my doubts.<br />
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CC hooked us up with a sweet condo in Williamsburg and drove the whole way. Already my coach had gone above and beyond the call of duty. He even bought dinner! We were all shocked to learn that instead of my own bedroom in the condo, I got an entire condo to myself! That evening I treated myself to a cannoli in a gigantic whirlpool bathtub--just what an aspiring BQ-er needs!<br />
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The next day we awoke at 4 am to prep for the hour drive to Virginia Beach. Vicky, CC's wife, was running the half marathon and needed to be there by 6:15. We arrived with little traffic issues, dropped Vicky off at the bag check, and part ways. CC and I headed over closer to our own start and miraculously (or illegally) snagged a parking spot in the Ramada parking lot. Turns out this spot was only a block away from our start. After we park, we realized the start balloon had been inflated at one end of the street had been barricaded by the VA police at the other end in lieu of the race. If we had been minutes later, this parking spot would have been unreachable.<br />
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After three trips into the Hampton Inn for bathroom usage with doors clearly marked "NOT for public use, Hampton patrons ONLY", we headed to the car to lube up, strip down, and send last minute text messages to our friends and supporters.<br />
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CC and I headed out to warm up. CC likes to run sans shirt, so he received many sideways glances in the wind-chilled sub 40 degree temps. "Are you going to be embarrassed to run with me," he asks. "No, it'll be more entertaining, Naked Man." He may be naked man to others but he's just Christian to me.<br />
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After a delayed start and a last minute decision to divide us into waves, we start the race around 8:17. We started the race with Kevin Hewitt pacing a friend with similar goals. Kevin immediately made a bee-line for the porta pots after the race started. Pumped with race adrenaline, CC followed Kevin and banged on the door of the porta pot. "HEY MAN, LET ME IN!!!" he shouts just after Kevin runs in...too funny! Hey, that's how we roll.<br />
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By mile 7-8 I am cruising at an 8:00 pace feeling like its a 10:30. Things are going well. We run through a military camp and I am in good spirits high-fiving all the troops. Music is playing and I am just along for the ride. CC is wearing all the stats: pace, distance, elapsed time, all I have to do is follow him, he'll do the rest.<br />
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My friend and neighbor, Amber, joins us around this point. CC has now adopted another runner to pull through. To distract us, CC tells us stories of his crazy past. It's hard to believe such a wholesome fella could have done such wild and dangerous things; it just goes to show that my theory is correct: Runners are insane, we run to keep ourselves tame.<br />
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We see Vicky at mile 13, then we see Michael Wardian sprint by shortly after headed into the home stretch, now we head into a lonely stretch of the run. Still, I am in good company w/ CC and Amber. We meet a pack of Erin's. Our bibs have our names on them, so I get to hear over and over, 'Go Erin!'. Things are going well as we push all the way through to mile 20.<br />
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Even at 22 I am still feeling optimistic though tired. It isn't long after that, though I feel extreme fatigue set in. Amber is still running strong, she even downs a beer. Slowly, but surely Amber increases the gap. Christian senses me pulling back. Using his overly encouraging tone, he tries to push me back into our original pace. All I want to do is punch him in the face, if only I had the energy..and could catch him! He skips, and runs backwards trying to bring me back to the land of the marathoning aware. All I want is this race to be over.<br />
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'Where is that F-ing boardwalk!', I think to myself. Once I hit it, I plan to take off with everything I have. "I'm going to throw these F-ing shoes in the trash!", I pant out. "Lets get this race over and you can throw those shoes away," says CC. We round a corner, CC pumps up the crowd so that hopefully they will inspire me to push on through.<br />
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Finally, we hit the boardwalk. What?! Did they want us to run the entire length of it? I don't even see the finish line, I find an ounce of energy to pick it up somewhat, but not kill it just yet. How much further do I have? "We have 4/10ths of a mile", CC informs me."C'mon!"<br />
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I finally see the finish line balloon off in the distance. "Get behind me!" I summon up to words to shout to CC. He catches on and falls into line. "Move that beautiful behind! C'mon Erin, bring it in! Let's see what you got! Move it!" He shouts as I pick up speed.<br />
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The girl Kevin was pacing was pushing for a 3:29. We leap-frogged the duo throughout the entire race. Even though I only anticipated getting under a 3:40 we were ahead of Kevin and 'his girl'. "Kevin's girl is going to catch us!", CC shouts from behind. That's all the motivation I needed. As soon as I heard that I gave it all I had left. I sprinted past cheering spectators, I heard Vicky's excited voice as I zipped by. I was booking it in amazed I had anything left. I wanted it to be over!<br />
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3:35:27-Yes, I qualified for Boston...but will I make it in? Due to last years mad rush for race registration resulting in an record-breaking 8 hour fill, the BAA (Boston Athletic Association) had to revamp its rules to accommodate the coming years of race registry. The announcement of this predicament was made after I finished the Springfield marathon in November, AFTER I registered for the Shamrock Marathon in December but BEFORE I ran Shamrock.<br />
<br />
I threw my hands up upon announcement of the new rolling entry rules. Even if you meet your qualifying time for your gender/age group there is still a staggered registration based on your qualifying time. If you run 20 minutes under your qualifying time, you will be allowed first entry. It then tapers back to 10 minutes two days later, then five and finally the actual required time to qualify-in my case 3:40. Now...because I am 27 seconds over 3:35 I will be lumped in w/ the 3:40s so therefore I have just as much chance of getting in as anybody else even though I beat the standard by almost five minutes. Let me repeat that...ALMOST!<br />
<br />
CC was tracking our progress via Garmin. We ran 26.4 miles (courses always measure long on a Garmin; USATF always cut the tangents when measuring a course to ensure the impossibility of running LESS than 26.2). We maintained an 8:09 pace on average. I am beyond thrilled that this was even possible for me. I had days when breaking a 10 minute mile was a huge feat and never did I think this day would come.<br />
<br />
If I get into Boston for 2012 or not, I am so happy with my race performance. I ran that entire thing w/o stopping once. CC was an amazing pacer; he was right on the money the entire time. He knew what I was capable of even if I had my doubts. He pulled me through and helped me fulfill and even push beyond my goal. He is an incredible friend and I highly recommend him to anyone in need of an inspiring coach and mentor.<br />
<br />
Thanks CC!!!Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-63121421319019597182010-12-22T14:32:00.000-08:002010-12-23T05:08:31.030-08:00Find your happy placeThe 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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: <b>Pay attention.</b><br />
<br />
The voice was in my head. I knew I had to listen to it.<br />
<br />
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, <b>'This day is important'</b> and I knew that it was.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<b>I am paying attention to this important day</b> and <b>I am trying</b> to listen and do what needs to be done. Another run towards clarity logged in.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-42541289375618196872010-12-07T16:41:00.000-08:002010-12-07T16:44:17.145-08:00Speed Queen and Rocket Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWl8khyphenhypheniUL9poqo36W27BL-1rSezEggtCsCS-DuOpbfBmgoc1pmZCmys2SI3uYrO5nR7VBuessDec3kMEQGW-k0KNMcLjD1uTRpN1pbnNb7wcz7e3E1xmMvfjlyzSbGVwMFa9kl3lmdxr/s1600/62332_1595042806227_1540676738_1462758_8137152_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBWl8khyphenhypheniUL9poqo36W27BL-1rSezEggtCsCS-DuOpbfBmgoc1pmZCmys2SI3uYrO5nR7VBuessDec3kMEQGW-k0KNMcLjD1uTRpN1pbnNb7wcz7e3E1xmMvfjlyzSbGVwMFa9kl3lmdxr/s320/62332_1595042806227_1540676738_1462758_8137152_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>There are some people you just know are from the same egg. Brenda Dailey (aka Speed Queen) is one of those. After having the time of our lives bonding during the <a href="http://runmac-runningreviews.blogspot.com/2010/09/ragnar-relay-new-kind-of-tired.html">Ragnar Relay</a>, Speed Queen and Rocket Girl (me) have postponed a run long enough.... <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdRmbdV6GWSwkhoIKomEno7Sb0twBigUrRFOOwC93A2EYxxRBd9WilIgCq5CpK3bY169E5vTlH7ya74vxG6e3DZ5VBYhi8-6kdX7xVFkZoZZtsqOEW0w79xlKC7xCDPfXmg2VwRFnu7uC/s1600/34394_106510652746740_100001634180835_51292_83746_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdRmbdV6GWSwkhoIKomEno7Sb0twBigUrRFOOwC93A2EYxxRBd9WilIgCq5CpK3bY169E5vTlH7ya74vxG6e3DZ5VBYhi8-6kdX7xVFkZoZZtsqOEW0w79xlKC7xCDPfXmg2VwRFnu7uC/s1600/34394_106510652746740_100001634180835_51292_83746_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdRmbdV6GWSwkhoIKomEno7Sb0twBigUrRFOOwC93A2EYxxRBd9WilIgCq5CpK3bY169E5vTlH7ya74vxG6e3DZ5VBYhi8-6kdX7xVFkZoZZtsqOEW0w79xlKC7xCDPfXmg2VwRFnu7uC/s200/34394_106510652746740_100001634180835_51292_83746_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I love this girl and look forward to many more runs and other bonding experiences. She is on fire and I intend to bask in its glow. Together Speed Queen and Rocket Girl will conquer the world and chick the dudes who just can't hang--Book 'em!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdlBkER5iJmNxXvs5qYZh9EnkrhqqoORRVv9RohztP_gAG-7Ktb9XrwYdc6Cxv5jjVzSViP_qhjVJJ17s-7A8ssb0nvQSxtVcAFCbzHur18r4rPpRO9xa55WJyyTprS40tLVn3f4nJygX1/s1600/34394_106510662746739_100001634180835_51295_2987677_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdlBkER5iJmNxXvs5qYZh9EnkrhqqoORRVv9RohztP_gAG-7Ktb9XrwYdc6Cxv5jjVzSViP_qhjVJJ17s-7A8ssb0nvQSxtVcAFCbzHur18r4rPpRO9xa55WJyyTprS40tLVn3f4nJygX1/s200/34394_106510662746739_100001634180835_51295_2987677_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsyRMHv1bWfIo5GrgF53DnG8mi5SEcZtPC8-VDG3v1UDQhk4r0nJGB4rN1r_Q6iUNB0RBn5FEa0tCl1l779Nr7we86sF_IfPjY1uX5yY9VWFiJLrRieq77AOm6fhR3XEW8mHON2IBZrSCg/s1600/34394_106510652746740_100001634180835_51292_83746_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ1VzZGOslA_u7bv56nJ_59NaApHdv5D3H0j4uDPgML-FZ0jzy5OzCTNmqWg5f569YOaSv2-Dx6J0LkV6tl3EedkcCAflm9kvEf_6u4epVuFwp_-OCeaDrNkCCiuCSSo_aBtFLNzmOwvBX/s1600/62175_106510316080107_100001634180835_51281_8021266_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ1VzZGOslA_u7bv56nJ_59NaApHdv5D3H0j4uDPgML-FZ0jzy5OzCTNmqWg5f569YOaSv2-Dx6J0LkV6tl3EedkcCAflm9kvEf_6u4epVuFwp_-OCeaDrNkCCiuCSSo_aBtFLNzmOwvBX/s200/62175_106510316080107_100001634180835_51281_8021266_n.jpg" width="155" /></a></div>Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-40930949897018240262010-12-05T11:06:00.000-08:002010-12-05T11:06:15.781-08:00A religious experience: Loch Raven trail-running<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrKBROv6bUsG_sE4GKcU2aSEDmo98PBzxqb57jknugdP-ypDAGFuQMCk029h0CvTEIi29drnv-TYDrrdZ4948faa_FWNmFvBzfv5G2Zil0KHRSHUxLkH548a-S0Gh3zPC3sIHSt8LkQVZ/s1600/dog+grave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrKBROv6bUsG_sE4GKcU2aSEDmo98PBzxqb57jknugdP-ypDAGFuQMCk029h0CvTEIi29drnv-TYDrrdZ4948faa_FWNmFvBzfv5G2Zil0KHRSHUxLkH548a-S0Gh3zPC3sIHSt8LkQVZ/s320/dog+grave.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In spite of the howling winds blowing the creaking, looming and leafless trees I was dazzled by the beauty that surrounded me. The trails of the Loch Raven Reservoir are mostly strewn with leaves and this always makes me cautious of losing my way. However, would getting lost in a place like this really be that bad?<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzBgu623nT16dVE41tF7sXd-o_3sL_Co6E_S8vGDxkXPaGk8BtWl_QS-Jjq1uOnQlKEfzaG3NgLAqDcWUKZHR_UcItspLXB0wttlGV98Uw0RPNbXYQ7uB1EehLFkv_nmtoJXQeXBu8lQts/s1600/water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzBgu623nT16dVE41tF7sXd-o_3sL_Co6E_S8vGDxkXPaGk8BtWl_QS-Jjq1uOnQlKEfzaG3NgLAqDcWUKZHR_UcItspLXB0wttlGV98Uw0RPNbXYQ7uB1EehLFkv_nmtoJXQeXBu8lQts/s400/water.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view from the Dog Grave as I sit on the bench</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Humbling expanse of trees</td></tr>
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8M7rns4rKNZMc7PsiqZ8KZxArRL_7MiwMsUa_NaeNO6kE7ENYSQbMgiq8DRyG7TXIkt9QHXYmxjgH2Ch7kPmlwOCgS-tU-Asuh_NmCRND1mgqtrkUzbjfITI6Yilqf4k1PqIKGp0gOqxB/s1600/on+top+of+the+world.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8M7rns4rKNZMc7PsiqZ8KZxArRL_7MiwMsUa_NaeNO6kE7ENYSQbMgiq8DRyG7TXIkt9QHXYmxjgH2Ch7kPmlwOCgS-tU-Asuh_NmCRND1mgqtrkUzbjfITI6Yilqf4k1PqIKGp0gOqxB/s400/on+top+of+the+world.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On top of the world</td></tr>
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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.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-73546694237505202542010-11-11T10:00:00.000-08:002010-11-12T12:18:33.396-08:00Bass Pro Marathon: The lesser-known marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2047nzEV50K_7hVnPJNkHT4XGs_lYuvEns45PDT6pUFOvEaP6aXObHcS3OOvu7L4O6l_TRhIaMKNiaD7xW9UoOBhQ0D1bgKaiCNMuZKdmcozuAzjzu7f3rgMCXkiJYXk1TIF_zOh5XuEC/s1600/39571_1515574848455_1206986207_31166962_7996739_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2047nzEV50K_7hVnPJNkHT4XGs_lYuvEns45PDT6pUFOvEaP6aXObHcS3OOvu7L4O6l_TRhIaMKNiaD7xW9UoOBhQ0D1bgKaiCNMuZKdmcozuAzjzu7f3rgMCXkiJYXk1TIF_zOh5XuEC/s320/39571_1515574848455_1206986207_31166962_7996739_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Danielle, three kids, and I pile into her car the day before my race to drive the course. Going through neighborhoods and by businesses, I am transported to a time in my life when running a marathon was an unachievable goal. I've come home to run. Now, I am fully-loaded for this upcoming adventure.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<b>Race day</b><br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuysah-9DEuXNi5QrkvUe8bEQmwiig6E3XYfksuP7cYo2ZF-win68rEtmyd7A3sPaBKXnV0OY3-4v986MIzzzRL8jmzF3tqRmkf5RRKJScos16Z-NS-CwAJ_SpEp1ebRXAdPSxR0Oe-3t/s1600/39579_458050001730_595591730_5780084_6766046_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuysah-9DEuXNi5QrkvUe8bEQmwiig6E3XYfksuP7cYo2ZF-win68rEtmyd7A3sPaBKXnV0OY3-4v986MIzzzRL8jmzF3tqRmkf5RRKJScos16Z-NS-CwAJ_SpEp1ebRXAdPSxR0Oe-3t/s400/39579_458050001730_595591730_5780084_6766046_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Found them! Packed like sardines, runners from the 5K through marathon are huddled in the main entry way of the world's largest outdoor retailer. I stand around chatting with my friends and prepping Danielle's daughter Shelby for her first 5K. I make sure she doesn't wear the race shirt, has her number pinned on the front, and give her some pointers on how to place yourself at the start.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN14Vn78Q2zgujrA_OoxeJL1XMmEKA9GOkX3eVU1Z8wrY9bEw5AikumC2DBvHSg8qAf9yxya3JTKb8lJwYNs8JqnaNZCd4Ax4DslOBfGWO4MWXAHrf952DUejgew2aADRRrbyNak0LkFmv/s1600/37162_1515571528372_1206986207_31166959_6617558_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN14Vn78Q2zgujrA_OoxeJL1XMmEKA9GOkX3eVU1Z8wrY9bEw5AikumC2DBvHSg8qAf9yxya3JTKb8lJwYNs8JqnaNZCd4Ax4DslOBfGWO4MWXAHrf952DUejgew2aADRRrbyNak0LkFmv/s320/37162_1515571528372_1206986207_31166959_6617558_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Minutes before 7am I step outside for one more trip to the porta-potty and put myself towards to front of the start. Frank Shorter is there and gives a brief pep talk. The national anthem is sung by a barbershop quartet and, with a late start, the air horn goes off.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
"What?!" <br />
<br />
"Nothing, just keep going!" <br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBTRPHRRj2-U7hWB8uldXbxfvam86JmdASab58D_9oR_Kb4ydjC2M3TWLNnlNnCYXGsXwdakzBYdzraWZWI8crB7TaxAQzd4sZ6ct7yGmRHnHh9J_vmP1iP5V_usZtUc4IDgPK58p76eOX/s1600/jqh1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBTRPHRRj2-U7hWB8uldXbxfvam86JmdASab58D_9oR_Kb4ydjC2M3TWLNnlNnCYXGsXwdakzBYdzraWZWI8crB7TaxAQzd4sZ6ct7yGmRHnHh9J_vmP1iP5V_usZtUc4IDgPK58p76eOX/s320/jqh1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>I see Danielle at 15. She hands me my 'kibble' as she called it (chopped up Clif bar) and I ask her to bring my inhaler to mile 21, which is where she will be next. I am feeling chest tightness, but try to talk myself through it.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!"<br />
<br />
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?"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifA9VobaAauShB3Vba_HCsR_ABziLB3dG3MzX7zZ80w1YHvrbg6KsRrtZ8Z37IdSGjIyoKsviap0zBBTZsla0TSA0DH9UbjVfKo93kFLOuOFvxCF3968ShiX8iyT5eD0XLLgEDtqOe1HUw/s1600/77060_1515545087711_1206986207_31166905_7427196_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifA9VobaAauShB3Vba_HCsR_ABziLB3dG3MzX7zZ80w1YHvrbg6KsRrtZ8Z37IdSGjIyoKsviap0zBBTZsla0TSA0DH9UbjVfKo93kFLOuOFvxCF3968ShiX8iyT5eD0XLLgEDtqOe1HUw/s200/77060_1515545087711_1206986207_31166905_7427196_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2047nzEV50K_7hVnPJNkHT4XGs_lYuvEns45PDT6pUFOvEaP6aXObHcS3OOvu7L4O6l_TRhIaMKNiaD7xW9UoOBhQ0D1bgKaiCNMuZKdmcozuAzjzu7f3rgMCXkiJYXk1TIF_zOh5XuEC/s1600/39571_1515574848455_1206986207_31166962_7996739_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2047nzEV50K_7hVnPJNkHT4XGs_lYuvEns45PDT6pUFOvEaP6aXObHcS3OOvu7L4O6l_TRhIaMKNiaD7xW9UoOBhQ0D1bgKaiCNMuZKdmcozuAzjzu7f3rgMCXkiJYXk1TIF_zOh5XuEC/s200/39571_1515574848455_1206986207_31166962_7996739_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>Pushing towards mile 21, I see Danielle. She hands me my inhaler and I take two quick puffs off it. "Gloves" I say. With a panicked expression Danielle frantically searches my stuff looking for gloves. "No, back there" I point behind me where I just threw my gloves for her to retrieve.<br />
<br />
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?"<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAPSrH7JmeetvNaxfswUkjjWCw1dG2ELgBMBGu78yKv4OCgwI0vU3GAXMDWiT811UlX5Yr-jvGuVNXfbf3Av2hPP-y8LurchCFzIaH7Vpow9HzSfrouEKEtCfYMUTyOi9xHQiW0TFJqxO/s1600/pain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAPSrH7JmeetvNaxfswUkjjWCw1dG2ELgBMBGu78yKv4OCgwI0vU3GAXMDWiT811UlX5Yr-jvGuVNXfbf3Av2hPP-y8LurchCFzIaH7Vpow9HzSfrouEKEtCfYMUTyOi9xHQiW0TFJqxO/s320/pain.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><span id="goog_382895351"></span><span id="goog_382895352"></span>"Ow", I keep saying. Everything hurts, my feet, my calves. I have to launch my body up a curb at mile 24. Onto the last bit of Greenway trails, I head into a tunnel underpass. Though brief, the tunnel messes with my head and I feel dizzy. Thinking no one is behind me, I burp and it echos in the tunnel. Sure enough, there IS someone behind me. Oh well, runner's aren't known for their lady-like disposition.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBikqXR61JVRuRkE9Fq6ldTysF_kQvqZRhF_nUr-uv8-phG9TPbD7fcOIGwhVaD-3Qh4hl881k2kcf2PUZ5ecpJ87rdgoPQE2o-4_4j_0na7oxirK-ag30uzaRvKO3qIYwslFqkpUJnW2H/s1600/finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBikqXR61JVRuRkE9Fq6ldTysF_kQvqZRhF_nUr-uv8-phG9TPbD7fcOIGwhVaD-3Qh4hl881k2kcf2PUZ5ecpJ87rdgoPQE2o-4_4j_0na7oxirK-ag30uzaRvKO3qIYwslFqkpUJnW2H/s320/finish.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>I hear the MC counting down, "5,4,3,2,1..." NOOO! That means the 4 hour time limit just passed! I cross the finish line, vaguely notice a few friends on the other side of the fence, and hobble out of the finishing area. As I walk, I can't fight it anymore. I break down. Danielle is there first and I sob on her, then she passes me on to Stacey and I continue to sob.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
"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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvJbNKZTEYISKjyseSU6RHnOHWS4fkYMsGukom4oUcXynXf68X5P7gwR5TtK_mAFyxCyCodU4xHpTrI8DFDYhlSlAfDCjivkrqMTtWehRWnfeT6ZoLJPX5ZyFPh4zoYP4UpwRCBY_Dnkus/s1600/37175_1646447477775_1134554645_1780548_5793721_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvJbNKZTEYISKjyseSU6RHnOHWS4fkYMsGukom4oUcXynXf68X5P7gwR5TtK_mAFyxCyCodU4xHpTrI8DFDYhlSlAfDCjivkrqMTtWehRWnfeT6ZoLJPX5ZyFPh4zoYP4UpwRCBY_Dnkus/s400/37175_1646447477775_1134554645_1780548_5793721_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>I flip the shirt around and look at the back. There's Dave standing in front of the finish line. That's when it all comes flooding in. Dave Cooley was there when I first started running races, and he has unknowingly been there for several more important events in my life so I had every intention of taking him with me to this event too. I bury my face in the shirt for a moment and wipe the tears out of my eyes. <br />
<br />
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. <b>Finishing is a gift that allows you to reflect back on how far you've come.</b> However, the adventure doesn't end when you finish the race. The finish line just gives you experience and knowledge for your next event. <br />
<br />
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!Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-59608988421364181972010-10-17T08:35:00.000-07:002010-10-19T17:11:49.145-07:00A 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.<br />
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYOnoxWdXI5ijQxKIrxF8C6MsXfTJu5wlDGU5kFdU2wFPP62cvpBKbFk7AQs1uaC_8nYYQ7ZXGwWvGrdMdkKd-2rgkK86f4we-DLEjOq2SSW4h5-AqRYy1vv49tukvGhxiWjWCDWWzxAoV/s1600/get-attachment.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYOnoxWdXI5ijQxKIrxF8C6MsXfTJu5wlDGU5kFdU2wFPP62cvpBKbFk7AQs1uaC_8nYYQ7ZXGwWvGrdMdkKd-2rgkK86f4we-DLEjOq2SSW4h5-AqRYy1vv49tukvGhxiWjWCDWWzxAoV/s320/get-attachment.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529065024910058226" /></a><br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight:bold;">The Baltimore Half-Marathon</span><br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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).<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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).<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
"What do you need? Did you eat? How much have you drunk?"<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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). <br />
<br />
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? <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
After we go through the food line, we find a spot to sit on the ground.<br />
<br />
"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."<br />
<br />
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! <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
It feels good to know we helped a friend finish his first marathon. It feels even better knowing it was Jeffrey, my gentle Giraffe.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-12445401985760896092010-09-26T09:25:00.000-07:002010-09-28T04:43:40.093-07:00Ragnar 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. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Ragnar Relay Overview</span><br /><br />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...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyI7h4rcl5hvmpvXbTn5v-gUpfAcoqdNU0H7mTMWiohCBmj4KgIy6CHwiEXDs6ePz8Y-SqjRnXFcovPcL6zVVEWzw_hS_VfPCXxENxlVW53M2GkR7ksT9FGKpQJm8vzdPM6WPNfoCWYQfB/s1600/60166_1568463245808_1062243027_1681890_6454818_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyI7h4rcl5hvmpvXbTn5v-gUpfAcoqdNU0H7mTMWiohCBmj4KgIy6CHwiEXDs6ePz8Y-SqjRnXFcovPcL6zVVEWzw_hS_VfPCXxENxlVW53M2GkR7ksT9FGKpQJm8vzdPM6WPNfoCWYQfB/s400/60166_1568463245808_1062243027_1681890_6454818_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521633641249567282" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Day 1 Ragnar</span><br /><br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT7mLnEIWBTthFR8rERrt8BWQMsLW9zrzr-jalKBvmGY2CvrlOycrGtJWZ1GJF_OyveRbR7SShqcfW3hrSMLO5tQV59MYuPr8pRbu2NXhngccW-y1zHHcxyTxt9zzKX-FfzF6h-p7RQ8rs/s1600/IMG_3667.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT7mLnEIWBTthFR8rERrt8BWQMsLW9zrzr-jalKBvmGY2CvrlOycrGtJWZ1GJF_OyveRbR7SShqcfW3hrSMLO5tQV59MYuPr8pRbu2NXhngccW-y1zHHcxyTxt9zzKX-FfzF6h-p7RQ8rs/s400/IMG_3667.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521927516998147730" /></a><br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63nAHMrv7uHGWmPS_x_iz-I-0ywEcNrvTXWNAgdiRf2cJKy-ZSjxFA6tXBOqB4Gziyf-rbzEkiLw3d_ygzU0kgJuWwgsPEQrDGuz9zDR4DXY9UnAeX10msnE6adLK9yspQe_VI3KZMRgY/s1600/61757_1568473126055_1062243027_1681915_7497406_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63nAHMrv7uHGWmPS_x_iz-I-0ywEcNrvTXWNAgdiRf2cJKy-ZSjxFA6tXBOqB4Gziyf-rbzEkiLw3d_ygzU0kgJuWwgsPEQrDGuz9zDR4DXY9UnAeX10msnE6adLK9yspQe_VI3KZMRgY/s320/61757_1568473126055_1062243027_1681915_7497406_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521625576861657906" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHC-8RhONgtoGe5nqYGwGhY3Xs6ZRq1NAOjD9bv2ejjKZ6nuVyyGaMg11aMIym9UryByGeYDv0d_F7gYu21ta3EhXJqsqO-k5MePGGFvFgbAvY-4UQJ_s7QLxg0FzhsuG9kcxeO4nyzX9/s1600/60166_1568463405812_1062243027_1681894_3324252_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHC-8RhONgtoGe5nqYGwGhY3Xs6ZRq1NAOjD9bv2ejjKZ6nuVyyGaMg11aMIym9UryByGeYDv0d_F7gYu21ta3EhXJqsqO-k5MePGGFvFgbAvY-4UQJ_s7QLxg0FzhsuG9kcxeO4nyzX9/s320/60166_1568463405812_1062243027_1681894_3324252_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521625234119804434" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Team Leg #1</span><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOkYiZXHd0x-6H6DNHF91tD_O2Dqh_FbXQ16CDQO2RKFpZ11MecCqJLpUYdQVRr6hrVI-KvuihL8AyUdOllX89hNh34MmewwUm2-2kPKTbBbe7MKn7nSAp9-rI0I8anjDRFixRj7lYOWm/s1600/63045_1568506006877_1062243027_1682151_974703_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOkYiZXHd0x-6H6DNHF91tD_O2Dqh_FbXQ16CDQO2RKFpZ11MecCqJLpUYdQVRr6hrVI-KvuihL8AyUdOllX89hNh34MmewwUm2-2kPKTbBbe7MKn7nSAp9-rI0I8anjDRFixRj7lYOWm/s400/63045_1568506006877_1062243027_1682151_974703_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521630719905580370" /></a><br /><br />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...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6dezgcS6OO8gngbTCFtLZvIxeN9nYGd5G46-oh2KqiRKxDihEgE86yqYm6XqwOnzSrq6zpAsQMoFkSoQnLhPIFWZ0_iJQOBxb7VgmxM-joAPjlR_RTrTAh_HJigQ3kYcTgBd_eKmNLmh/s1600/60569_1568527647418_1062243027_1682315_6560212_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6dezgcS6OO8gngbTCFtLZvIxeN9nYGd5G46-oh2KqiRKxDihEgE86yqYm6XqwOnzSrq6zpAsQMoFkSoQnLhPIFWZ0_iJQOBxb7VgmxM-joAPjlR_RTrTAh_HJigQ3kYcTgBd_eKmNLmh/s400/60569_1568527647418_1062243027_1682315_6560212_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521627570304929250" /></a><br />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. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHgdve4-Gc32DGJvdSBGE-G8mZ6lJkjVvSKdgzg8mM4Cy5p3Lqt8trnX_v1RYH6YyJgKeBiTeTExWtrN_sp0YpRqYezDLk9vIKpbVSuBwzxDJy4onpZhTmR54KorBPeupWQyBqb-H74AG/s1600/63071_1568515887124_1062243027_1682223_6646857_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHgdve4-Gc32DGJvdSBGE-G8mZ6lJkjVvSKdgzg8mM4Cy5p3Lqt8trnX_v1RYH6YyJgKeBiTeTExWtrN_sp0YpRqYezDLk9vIKpbVSuBwzxDJy4onpZhTmR54KorBPeupWQyBqb-H74AG/s400/63071_1568515887124_1062243027_1682223_6646857_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521630992903361746" /></a><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjszYauROHgsbeebV1ceRUiFXNSQ5VJAKaAhyphenhyphen52n7LCzdAfjVwERfRlguD3Hj4gtaCRxeJiTpyekxuAsDdXuIqJABk7CgYfdv7oGaPJyQsX01sZr5RVofY3ttGNOQaurDLmvFbq5wlwPqkh/s1600/60989_1568515967126_1062243027_1682225_6242706_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjszYauROHgsbeebV1ceRUiFXNSQ5VJAKaAhyphenhyphen52n7LCzdAfjVwERfRlguD3Hj4gtaCRxeJiTpyekxuAsDdXuIqJABk7CgYfdv7oGaPJyQsX01sZr5RVofY3ttGNOQaurDLmvFbq5wlwPqkh/s200/60989_1568515967126_1062243027_1682225_6242706_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521626292515408018" /></a><br /><br />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 <a href="http://www.examiner.com/running-in-baltimore/north-coast-24-hour-endurance-run-local-ultra-runner-serge-arbona-wins">Serge Arbona </a>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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJq3FTstBjXphkxRiaO0fOVM69UViNu07VqTdA7_qrpUSgg8BOaYFddnVq3wEhGl3tRVFvGozbKEoqLvyCctWmj3xzCPEW36MSCes6n7JTAoCV5KR8gIDnHJRQrl8-e_odY-6KiiqIwyK/s1600/60569_1568527607417_1062243027_1682314_7068600_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJq3FTstBjXphkxRiaO0fOVM69UViNu07VqTdA7_qrpUSgg8BOaYFddnVq3wEhGl3tRVFvGozbKEoqLvyCctWmj3xzCPEW36MSCes6n7JTAoCV5KR8gIDnHJRQrl8-e_odY-6KiiqIwyK/s400/60569_1568527607417_1062243027_1682314_7068600_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521630424191885890" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Team Leg #2 approx. 7:15 pm</span><br /><br />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!<br /><br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-diW0O3pl7Xc-m9AyOg_in9Gc3n58kFM5SeGuhkfXH0oXGgmJId9ycXhk1Vw_2uZ0TRs98lRNWyVVNcaoy2f6cKNlUO7IV0YIruaTekQcCA2IqURa6K4EGQ6SpBVhLW6-UnpeYMXJUzx/s1600/60569_1568527687419_1062243027_1682316_733071_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-diW0O3pl7Xc-m9AyOg_in9Gc3n58kFM5SeGuhkfXH0oXGgmJId9ycXhk1Vw_2uZ0TRs98lRNWyVVNcaoy2f6cKNlUO7IV0YIruaTekQcCA2IqURa6K4EGQ6SpBVhLW6-UnpeYMXJUzx/s400/60569_1568527687419_1062243027_1682316_733071_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521627780107682834" /></a><br /><br />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!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjFyEdV25erkA8Hf8lRxf9Pqg9Vk4UthOcBpBpU7naFoZ63_ehV0qdbFwST4yvBZiH9tPXqxoI4F_ajNMKp3U0QzUsaGoMfYsTVtQkPUxuI4muMg8wFDccnXzEB96KvCPqT7xkJh3FD9y/s1600/63006_1568530207482_1062243027_1682322_1639988_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtjFyEdV25erkA8Hf8lRxf9Pqg9Vk4UthOcBpBpU7naFoZ63_ehV0qdbFwST4yvBZiH9tPXqxoI4F_ajNMKp3U0QzUsaGoMfYsTVtQkPUxuI4muMg8wFDccnXzEB96KvCPqT7xkJh3FD9y/s400/63006_1568530207482_1062243027_1682322_1639988_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521630158443216082" /></a><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRQZ-NieMaM8thpdjs-E1TaUubzTEQrysL6lcwn2E7qltCvY0byr0AO9SA-StEL2FPGzGftGivCXSSQxpuVSyHG5X3p79NeF_n1sEVkItJp_nT6SKxRRyn8pUT2gnICliGZavnaGfkN8g/s1600/CRW_3716.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRQZ-NieMaM8thpdjs-E1TaUubzTEQrysL6lcwn2E7qltCvY0byr0AO9SA-StEL2FPGzGftGivCXSSQxpuVSyHG5X3p79NeF_n1sEVkItJp_nT6SKxRRyn8pUT2gnICliGZavnaGfkN8g/s400/CRW_3716.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521927829645292642" /></a><br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPs5lY0mEGaD-dZtZja78t5HaL5z9Nk9fL2Yo-9W9oidXFavQK4htkLHZV1-h8UMLEw0F4GSJasQilM7nBeDDVRcDB3FWdyKVpHjkLLp2iV4UwDdgMf8kwpPbVlL082sx4o5C3KQ-jyPJ/s1600/60585_1568531367511_1062243027_1682325_7874176_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPs5lY0mEGaD-dZtZja78t5HaL5z9Nk9fL2Yo-9W9oidXFavQK4htkLHZV1-h8UMLEw0F4GSJasQilM7nBeDDVRcDB3FWdyKVpHjkLLp2iV4UwDdgMf8kwpPbVlL082sx4o5C3KQ-jyPJ/s400/60585_1568531367511_1062243027_1682325_7874176_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521627966912697890" /></a><br />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<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Final leg #3, Day two approx 4:15 am</span><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br /><br />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. <br /><br />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!<br /><br />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.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8dcUYcZp1B-5ngMrEHEsgGD2GaHO3BSlyfDd3Zv4UBB1ydiY6SwHionYLz64DEMh55KPSmZQq7aksq_GMmQWpVy89xLePByhD2JFYKO-hAOSepN8ctX31KWBai3sG1Fdx3mqPCxLOxZz2/s1600/DSCF0153.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 279px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8dcUYcZp1B-5ngMrEHEsgGD2GaHO3BSlyfDd3Zv4UBB1ydiY6SwHionYLz64DEMh55KPSmZQq7aksq_GMmQWpVy89xLePByhD2JFYKO-hAOSepN8ctX31KWBai3sG1Fdx3mqPCxLOxZz2/s400/DSCF0153.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521928555027770930" /></a><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy144Gt1KspkrnuE6yJgxrhD17wWG48kmnTg6g0D2JKNmsL9CzX6DkEjTZ2-XkKOWadOGOASRaVVg5LQLiRYpzBx-KkXchFqnQC9R_rtZO_Bsq1ewoLRh9X0X4uB_elnrnhAwrRrghr3NN/s1600/59947_976448033208_5713604_52190654_4430519_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 344px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy144Gt1KspkrnuE6yJgxrhD17wWG48kmnTg6g0D2JKNmsL9CzX6DkEjTZ2-XkKOWadOGOASRaVVg5LQLiRYpzBx-KkXchFqnQC9R_rtZO_Bsq1ewoLRh9X0X4uB_elnrnhAwrRrghr3NN/s400/59947_976448033208_5713604_52190654_4430519_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521678383322056786" /></a><br />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.<br /><br />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!<br /><br />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. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXb5F2VHybAQpU86Unu1eCTCDw0vYHTBT0yKNq9OJrP_NYOD3L6SiiQgED5yFXhP3UZxBsCf2-qGqrZgRm4wyIYj_uCOi-fZZpcXpSZ2agq0PBGWWID5wCrQLGmTu-hFIB85tSK0bswa7/s1600/62022_1568541647768_1062243027_1682363_2471807_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXb5F2VHybAQpU86Unu1eCTCDw0vYHTBT0yKNq9OJrP_NYOD3L6SiiQgED5yFXhP3UZxBsCf2-qGqrZgRm4wyIYj_uCOi-fZZpcXpSZ2agq0PBGWWID5wCrQLGmTu-hFIB85tSK0bswa7/s400/62022_1568541647768_1062243027_1682363_2471807_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521628182099970658" /></a><br />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. :-)Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-55031071327449187902010-09-13T17:30:00.000-07:002010-09-13T19:19:43.833-07:00Like 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 <a href="http://runmac-runningreviews.blogspot.com/2010/03/adventures-of-nyc.html">feel like shit</a>!". Laurie responded with semi-shock, "Oh, I'm glad I asked!" I hope she wasn't offended and understood what I was going through...<br />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. <br />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.<br />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 '<span style="font-style:italic;">The Wall</span>'.<br />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 <span style="font-style:italic;">could</span> make progress, but just not in the forward direction.<br />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.<br />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 <span style="font-weight:bold;">race</span> 20 miles. After all, what's the big deal? There are people like <a href="http://www.examiner.com/running-in-baltimore/runner-s-spotlight-runner-s-world-sub-3-marathoner-kevin-hewitt">Kevin Hewitt</a> and <a href="http://www.examiner.com/running-in-baltimore/runners-spotlight-mega-marathon-man-michael-wardian">Mike Wardian</a> who log in 100 miles a week, or <a href="http://www.examiner.com/running-in-baltimore/runner-s-spotlight-mike-buss-runs-100-marathons-100-days">Mike Buss</a> who has run a marathon a day for the past 90+ days.<br />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.<br />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. <span style="font-weight:bold;">I refused to let this be me.</span> I know that nipping an injury in its early phases can prevent a prolonged period of metaphoric solitary confinement.<br />I feel like a caged animal. I am confined and limited because of an injury I have been so cautious to prevent. <span style="font-weight:bold;">I am meant to run.</span> Sure, I can cross-train with cycling, elliptical, swimming and what not, but<span style="font-style:italic;"> I am meant to run</span>.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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. <br />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'.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-18967287857346138492010-06-20T13:53:00.000-07:002010-06-20T14:40:55.118-07:00Oh wait...I'm a runner!<span style="font-weight:bold;">The Baltimore 10-Miler</span><br /><br />"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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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? <br /><br />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...<br /><br />"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.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The next day, Father's Day.</span><br /><br />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).<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />'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.<br /><br />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! <br /><br />Now...I guess I should get back out there and prove it.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-277513488622981902010-06-07T11:59:00.000-07:002010-06-07T12:23:28.410-07:00The greatest metaphor in life--RunningSometimes 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Though I am not a big fan of Shakespeare here are two quotes that seem fitting at the moment:<br /><br />"Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible"-Julius Caesar<br /><br />"I will run as far God has any ground" -The merchant of Venice <br /><br />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?<br /><br />On the opposite end of the quote spectrum, here is the modern day poet Eminem:<br /><br />"...when your run is over just admit when its at its end."<br /><br />Will you know when it is?Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-11516501151638245192010-06-04T07:58:00.000-07:002010-06-04T11:37:37.229-07:00Post-run scenario: The lesser of two evilsI 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...<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.....<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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'.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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...<br /><br />I say it again, I live like everyone is out to get me, it's why I'm still alive.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-73144546976194986152010-05-07T09:56:00.000-07:002010-05-07T11:48:37.742-07:00OMG 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.<br /><br />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!<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Cheeseburger</span> 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!'<br /><br />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.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-1874644770257201582010-04-05T19:16:00.000-07:002010-04-05T19:18:52.295-07:00Win free running stuffI have to share this great blogsite with anyone:<br /><br /><a href="http://happyrunnergiveaways.blogspot.com">http://happyrunnergiveaways.blogspot.com</a>Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-17331089485334764242010-03-22T05:32:00.000-07:002010-03-28T17:49:29.160-07:00Adventures in NYC<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbrd16rZUacuY06J-sysrbrgim0UeIRNdb-wRtRq_z0_sUKsfQDkDqW3I0OPjr-AiE8nguYKkxBXdvEPPouibPfyGJgrl1FRqJrlR-gEngUtOJTiCjzh0hYEygrg7S9Yt3guBu_uniOtt/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbrd16rZUacuY06J-sysrbrgim0UeIRNdb-wRtRq_z0_sUKsfQDkDqW3I0OPjr-AiE8nguYKkxBXdvEPPouibPfyGJgrl1FRqJrlR-gEngUtOJTiCjzh0hYEygrg7S9Yt3guBu_uniOtt/s320/1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453851526586603618" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQoz5kJFdopRehnDX8IVs8JfN7-c3hPCFzb3LPdPsyEDo5tS7qjyZBuGpzThsK1YksUOf0QWeYkOjLmZ9Z32ucHQTV8GLSaeoISDSRHQBlruH66DM954dtvCf1RdYvhL8lMiQ-MHq7oBC/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQoz5kJFdopRehnDX8IVs8JfN7-c3hPCFzb3LPdPsyEDo5tS7qjyZBuGpzThsK1YksUOf0QWeYkOjLmZ9Z32ucHQTV8GLSaeoISDSRHQBlruH66DM954dtvCf1RdYvhL8lMiQ-MHq7oBC/s320/1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451453213507775858" /></a><br />I say 'adventures' because there is more than one story to tell. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Departure</span><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Walking 500 miles </span><br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />NYC Half Marathon</span><br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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).<br /><br />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!".<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 <a href="http://web2.nyrrc.org/cgi-bin/htmlos.exe/29171.1.698244880500027148">1:46:55 </a>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)<br /><br />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.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Ed</span><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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!<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">A New York City Afternoon</span><br /><br />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. <br /><br />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).<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Solider</span><br /><br />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! <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 <span style="font-style:italic;">choose</span> 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.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Goodnight</span><br /><br />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.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084443149566091512.post-41866481893832595462010-03-10T09:44:00.000-08:002010-03-22T17:48:59.918-07:00High school is life schoolIt doesn't matter if they were the best years of your life or the worst. High school is at the core of who we are. The relationships and friendships made during those four years define how we behave today.<br /><br />I was at the local high school today doing my speed workout on the track. Every time I step onto a track I flash back to my freshmen year in high school. Running was always something I was good at and it gave me confidence. It is the foundation of my athleticism. <br /><br />Today, the end portion of my speed workout was 6x200+200R. Meaning I had to sprint 6 200m with a 200m recovery between each. I haven't sprint a 200 since I was 15! Talk about painful! I felt like I was trying to haul 400 lbs around the track. Involuntary moans and grunts expelled from me as I pushed through. Each rep. was harder than the last and recovery seemed shorter each time.<br /><br />I timed my track workout just right, because as I finished a high school gym class was on its way out. As I watched the teenagers file onto the track in their various clicks and groups I was instantly taken back to my time in this world. The thing is, I felt like I was still living those days to some degree. I was able to observe these kids with a wise eye, but also felt no better or more evolved then they were. The insecurities, the awkward behavior, the feeling that this is your entire world and that nothing outside of it matters or really even exists.<br /><br />On my way out I thanked the Coach for letting me use their track (I guess I have gained some manners if nothing else). The short exchange between he and I was taken into account as well. I guessed the coach to be around my age, it was then that I realized that I live in the coach's world and not the students. I felt more in tuned to the students, but the reality is that I was no longer one of them and the fact that I was now 'on the other side' seemed to sink in. I'm not old, but I am not a peer. I am somewhere in the world of limbo which appears to be full of hurdles. Good thing I was on a track! Time to brush up on my leg again.Runmachttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09229881012919416478noreply@blogger.com0