2-0

The number 20 can represent any number of things.  A birthday.  The number of years you’ve been married.  The number of pounds you needed to lose when you started running again two and half years ago.  At that time it certainly wasn’t the number of miles I ever considered being capable of (or wanting to) run.  But here I sit, sore, yet proud, of accomplishing that goal this morning.

I left the house around 7:30, a bit later than I wanted, but at least the sun was up.  The weather was perfect.  Crisp, but sunny.  I ran two miles around the neighborhood and headed over to Butler.  As my long runs have gotten longer, I try to add my distance into the middle of the run, as opposed to just running farther north on the Monon (mainly because I hate running north of 96th Street).  I turned around at the 38th Street bridge, hoping that I wouldn’t have to go much farther north than 91st Street.

I’ve been testing out various types of gels over the last few weeks, and have decided that I prefer Chomps and Sport Beans to the actual gels.  Last week I took something every 5 miles, but felt like I ran out of energy long before it was time to take the next dose.  And it seemed to take longer to feel the boost (also 4 Chomps is a lot to stuff in your face at one time).  I decided I would try eating a couple of Chomps every two and a half miles.  It seemed to work out OK.

I felt pretty good, but at mile 8 my legs started to feel tired.  I wasn’t expecting that until mile 12 or so.  I hit the Monon around mile 9.5, and immediately got behind this guy that did not want me to pass him.  I did anyway, but at 10 miles stopped for some Chomps.  He passed me, I started back up, caught up to him, and again he kept pushing over to the middle of the path while looking over his shoulder.  Seriously?  That continued all the way to 96th.  I met my husband just south of 91st, he turned around, and we continued to the turnaround point, took a bathroom break, and headed towards home with about 6.5 miles to go.

At mile 16, with only 4 miles to go, I started wondering what my mental state would be at mile 16 in the race, knowing that I had 1o more miles to go.  Then I realized I (hopefully) wouldn’t be thinking in those terms at only 16 miles.  I have always managed to make it through long runs by not focusing on how many miles down/how many miles to go.  Since it has to be done, the best thing is to focus only on putting one foot in front of the other.  But I felt pretty good at 16 miles, and the thought of another ten miles wasn’t that daunting.

But then I hit mile 18, and I wasn’t sure I would even be able to finish the last two miles without walking.  I felt like I’d hit a wall, and my legs felt like lead.  I was certain I was running over a 10 minute pace.  I felt slow.  But when I looked at my watch, I was under 9 minutes.    Then I started to feel stronger.  So on we pushed.  When I heard the alert at 19 miles, all I could think about was mentally ticking off tenth of a mile increments.  I knew I would hit twenty miles before we made it back home, and I wasn’t sure yet if I would run the rest of the way home or walk.

When I hit twenty, I decided it best to walk home.  I was surprised at how much every part of my body hurt when I stopped.  Everything was sore, and I wondered how I would ever keep going for another six miles (I’m still not sure, to be quite honest).  I thought the finish would be a bit more emotional.  I would not have been surprised if I had shed a tear or two.  But I didn’t.  I just felt amazing.  Exhausted and in pain, but amazing.  And still able to smile (as Pete jumped at me to photobomb with his paws).

I stretched and thought about the run, and what I need to do to keep things more consistent.  I was happy that my pace was faster than last week, but was hoping for closer to 9:15.  I am concerned about starting out too fast during the race, and I have allowed myself to go as slow as I want at the beginning of the long runs.  I need to work on gradually increasing my pace each mile.  Good thing I have another 20 mile run in two weeks.

I topped off the run with some chocolate milk and donuts.  It was the perfect reward.  And I am so ready to sleep soundly tonight.

Five Weeks and Counting

I haven’t done a very good job of documenting my marathon training, and here we are, just five short weeks away from race day.  I didn’t tell you about changing my training program.  I didn’t tell you about an early morning long run in the dark during which I got so scared that my fastest miles were 4 and 5 of 12.  I didn’t tell you that I learned that I’d been wearing shoes a half-size too small.  I didn’t tell you about how my husband meets me during my long runs so that I have someone to help me through those last few brutal miles.  I didn’t tell you about running 14 miles, then 16 miles, and then 18 miles.  So, here’s the quick and dirty recap of the last few months.

We went to San Francisco on vacation.  It’s my favorite place in the world (at least of the places I have been so far).  It was cool, and I had plans for running many miles along the bay.  That didn’t work out as planned, and I logged only 10 or so miles while there.  We did get to meet and run with Bart Yasso.  He was in town for the San Francisco Marathon and organized a shake-out run at the Ferry Building the Saturday before the race.  Yes, I made sure it was OK for us to come even though we weren’t running the race.

I ran through this park in Illinois, a place I’d been many times as a child meeting grandparents for kid exchange during the summer.  It was both comforting and sad, as I thought about my grandma (who has been gone for some time), my grandpa (who left us this past June), and playing Marco Polo with my cousin and brother.

When I decided to run a marathon, I didn’t think about the reality of the training program.  I knew it would be hard, and that it would take a lot of time.  But I didn’t think about how much actual time, and how much planning, or how many hours I would be out there, just me and my thoughts.  So much time to think – about why life just isn’t fair sometimes, about why I can’t write thirty pages for my MFA application, about why we continue to live in a state where the weather ranges from -10 degrees to 110 degrees in the course of a year, about why our dogs are so badly behaved that they can’t be my running buddies.

We went to Las Vegas, and I was determined not to have another San Francisco repeat.  I got in every run (except one), and ran twelve miles along Las Vegas Boulevard.  I left around 6, the sun just coming up over the mountains.  Perhaps not surprisingly, I passed more people at 6 am (still out from the night before) than I did during the last half.  (I had oped to make in through the hotel and out to the street without too many people seeing me in my fuel belt.  No such luck.)  The goal was fourteen miles, and I was OK until mile 8.  By that time the sun was up and the temperature was rising.  I met my husband around Circus Circus.  I had blisters.  I was hot.  I was almost out of water.  And I knew that in order to do 14 miles I would have to run past the Stratosphere, and I just didn’t have it in me.  We turned around, and when I hit 12 miles in front of the Wynn, I stopped and walked back to the hotel.  I figured 12 miles in the heat was just as good as 14 at home.

 

I’ve finally lost a few pounds.  I know it seems weird to run around 30 miles a week and not see a significant change in weight.  But I like dessert.  And I firmly believe that marathon training requires daily consumption of 3000 calories.  OK, not really, but I regularly reward myself with donuts after long runs.

Last week I ran almost 18.5 miles.  Tomorrow I run 20.  I’m kind of scared.  Last week was much harder than 16 miles, and my pace was 30 seconds slower than it has been.  I am hoping that was because I did a speed workout the Friday before, as opposed to having a rest day.  It was the first time that I started to get concerned about finishing 26.2 miles.  So, tomorrow is a big mental day.  I need this to be a good run.  I’ve already started preparing.  My water bottles are filled and in the fridge.  I bought some new Chomps and Sports Beans.  I updated my running playlist and added some fun new songs.  And I’m planning to wear my favorite running clothes.  I’m ready.  I can do this.