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.

Honey, the Joneses Are Here…How Do I Look?

Last night my husband and I had some friends over for dinner (hence the lack of a post yesterday…if I do 2 today, that makes up for it, right?!), and with it being a Friday we were a little rushed for time.  However, the husband of the couple is a surgical resident and has a hectic schedule, so we were happy to accommodate.  We love entertaining and always carefully deliberate over the menu.  We originally started with a simple, quick menu since both of us had to work Friday.  However, that morphed into something a bit more complex when paired with the fact that tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday.  Based upon our Super Bowl menu, we decided to combine recipes and ingredients.

I wanted pulled pork nachos for Sunday, and the recipe for smoking the pork was a lengthy process (not to mention you can’t get a small pork shoulder at the store), so we decided on pulled pork sandwiches for Friday.  We bought our groceries Thursday night and my husband came up with a schedule to get the pork cooked.  His first idea involved keeping the gas oven on while we were at work with the dog in the house.  I quickly vetoed that idea.  Instead, he smoked the pork on the stove for an hour starting at midnight Friday morning.  Surprisingly, the wood chips did not smoke that much.  He came to bed around 1:40 am after putting the pork in the oven.  I had been happily slumbering for about an hour.

I woke up when he got in bed, and the aroma of the pork had already filled the house.  It smelled wonderful and my stomach started growling almost immediately.  However, I started to get a bit paranoid about the oven being on with no one downstairs.  I contemplated getting up to check things out, but dozed off.  I must have started dreaming as I thought I heard an explosion and immediately sat up in bed.  There was no explosion, but I did creep downstairs to ensure nothing was on fire.  All was safe, the oven was on low, and the pork looked delicious.

When we got home yesterday afternoon, in addition to getting the rest of the food ready, we had to chip away at the three inches of ice coating our front walkway and clean up the house.  It never fails that when we invite people over the house is a mess.  I always intend to start cleaning in the days prior, but it never works out.  While my husband labored over the walk, I went to work doing a half-assed cleaning job.  This involves a quick dusting, quick sweep, and water-only mop of the hardwoods (downstairs only), and a more thorough cleaning of our one full bathroom.  I like to pile things up – mail, bills, newspapers, etc. – so the piles have to be hidden.  This always results in the piles remaining hidden until I stumble upon them weeks later.  Always a great plan for keeping on top of stuff!

Regardless of our initial stress, everything came together and appetizers were ready before our friends arrived.  They made it safely into the house (although all of our hard work has been undone with the immense amounts of snow that have been falling for at least the last three hours), and seemed to enjoy our food.  We had great conversation, and it was an overall excellent start to the weekend.  Plus the house is now quasi-clean!