Trying so very, very hard to maintain a level of calm and predictability around this place, even as little complications creep in. Sam has a trip to one of the hippie-dippy middle schools tomorrow morning (and the other one next week), to shadow an older kid around the place and get a feel for things, in the ever-tense situation of “where the heck will I be next year?” Gabe is going through another bout of separation anxiety, with tears and pleas for hearts drawn on his hand before he leaves for school every morning. Swimming lessons are going, well, swimmingly for Sam, not so much for Gabe, though I may go broke on Pokemon cards, since they seem to motivate cooperation in Gabe more than anything else I’ve tried.

Sam’s officially signed up for a junior triathlon this summer. I took him with me to an expo this weekend, where he tried on a pair of little tri shorts and was immediately struck with a rip-roaring case of Quaker-level appalled modesty. Too short! Too tight! Not in public! We ran into a church friend a few minutes later, a man who does tris, and he tried to encourage Sam to “just do your thing, and nobody’s going to care what you’re wearing!” A friend of the man was there, and he offered to sell us a pair of knee-length jammers he’d bought for his grandson that hadn’t been worn; Sam seemed almost okay with that, so I agreed.

Carl, our friend, handed them off to us last night, and Sam tried them on in his room. For a moment, there was a strong sense of

So, I hear there’s a football game this weekend. Since there are no Mountaineers or Packers involved, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t care less. You?

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So we were in the car later, and Gabe started chattering about it. “And I think you need to have a body to have a real funeral, right, Mom?”

“Well, not necessarily. What if somebody drowned, and they couldn’t find the body? Their family could still have a funeral to say goodbye.”

“Okay, but Sam and [neighborhood friend] said ‘rest in peace.’ I don’t think that bird could rest in peace if it’s gone.”

I muttered, apparently not quietly enough, “It’s resting in pieces…”

Sam: “MOM! That’s awful! It was just a poor defenseless bird!”

Gabe, without a pause, replied, “You don’t know it was defenseless. Maybe it just lost!”

I swam today! Been waiting on my shoulder to heal properly enough to allow me to swim for a long time, and now I can do a breaststroke without more than occasional small twinges when I lose form! Still can’t do a crawl without pain, but I’m just happy to be back in the water. It brightened my whole morning.

Eric’s medical prep peaks tonight. I don’t intend to get into details, except to say that we both snorted when we read the section of the instructions that referred to me as Eric’s “responsible adult.” So, anyway, keep him in your (vague) thoughts for tonight and tomorrow. Poor guy.

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Of course, this week, I’m taking things really easy, running-wise. I think I’m putting the kibosh on the Newton running shoes, once and for all, or at least for the foreseeable future. Every blasted time I put them on, my peroneal tendon – which developed tendonitis years ago, and that stuff is chronic – starts complaining, and it takes a solid period of babying it to get it to shut up again. I swear, I only went on a few very short runs this time wearing them, two weeks ago, and I’m still with the icing and resting. So this week I’m going to stick to other cardio for the most part and just let it be completely. I’m not a “Newton runner,” I guess.

Anyway, this week is already going to be goofy. The kids are off school today, which meant I had to go to the Y early to be home in time for Eric to head to work. Then on Wednesday, Eric’s got some medical tests for which I need to be on hand to help chauffeur him; might be able to get a workout in around it, but also possible I’ll want to be at his beck and call, so I’m not counting on anything. Saturday night is his company’s holiday party – a bit late, but nice to have, nevertheless. Lots going on, so juggling will have to happen.

Honestly, though, I have to say that probably the main reason I’ve had success with fitness since I started running (five years ago in June!) is that I decided it wasn’t going to be “optional.” Exercise had to be non-negotiable, like a medication I need to take on a regular basis. It’s not something I allow myself to skip on the basis of “I don’t feel like it” – that way leads to more skipping, and more skipping, until I’d have completely fallen off. I know myself well enough to accept that. I try to plan no later than the night before for the following day’s workout; early morning sessions necessitate having the gear and clothes lying right beside my bed, so all I have to do is step into them and go. It took a long time to become habit, but now it is, and I’m happy about that.

Speaking of habits, housework calls. Trying to make Mondays “Kitchen Days.” Rockstar life!

Sundays are for bathrooms. I think I got more satisfaction from this than from the Packers game...

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But the only thing sore this morning are my calves, which is completely unfair. I broke out my Newton running shoes again yesterday for another try at adjusting my form (I got them in June but quickly decided I didn’t have time to deal with a slow adjustment period before gearing up for JFK), and I did exactly what was suggested in Natural Running, right down to only a “slow, ten-minute jog to warm up.” Well, ouch. Darn it.

Side note: I did the workout in my “prison gym,” which is the dismal, run-down basement of the Y where they keep the indoor track. I wanted to jump rope and do the form drills, so it seemed the best place, but it was hilariously awful; I half expected to hear wardens yelling at inmates around me. Also, when’s the last time you jumped rope? I hadn’t since perhaps middle school, so that, too, was hysterical. I think I made it up to 45 jumps once before my wrists and feet got off-track from each other. Perhaps that lack of coordination, plus the balance problems revealed sharply as I was doing the form drills, explain why I fall down so much?

Anyway, going to be a slow run today, and in my regular shoes. Baby steps, y’all. On the plus side, my shoulder feels much better; I think I’m almost getting to the point where I could consider swimming again! Not now, but maybe in another week or two…

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Unexpected, this, to place in my age group after a year of basically running longer-longer-longer and pretending that things like speedwork and track time didn’t exist. Of course, it helps when the race gives medals ten places deep in each age group, which is practically unheard of, but still. After no speed training for more than a year, and minimal running for the past six weeks on a bruised knee and with a bum shoulder, I logically should have been midpack at best. Guess the legs remembered a little of what they used to do.

Not much to talk about with a 5K; it’s over too fast for a lengthy report. The sun shone, it was chilly but not cold, and everybody was…5K-ish. I told a friend who was there that I think I prefer the low-key “non-energy” before an ultra; no point warming up or doing striders and skipping if you’re going to be running all day. The corral was crowded, full of folks who were Super Serious and those who looked like first-timers. Nobody seemed to have any inclination toward lining up according to how fast you expect to run; I saw plenty of folks near the front who were obviously not interested in trying to hold the pace the people near them were going to be doing. (Quickly scootched out from behind the pack of girls I initially took to be fast, but who began making giggly plans to run holding hands and jumping together. Yeah.)

Within thirty seconds of starting to run, I took an elbow to my sore shoulder from the very tall man running beside me. Ow.

But once I got out of the traditional 5K mosh pit, it was pretty much smooth sailing until the end. Honestly, I could have pushed harder, but, well, I’ve spend a long time now learning to push my endurance and not really having to visit the particular Pain Cave involved with running fast. That’s a different sort of willpower, and I’m out of practice.

Finished in 25:38, which is nowhere near my PR, but which is pretty good compared to what I’ve been running lately. It was even good enough, as I said, for tenth place in my age group. What it mostly is, though, is a benchmark. That Pain Cave I mentioned a paragraph ago? I’m going to be going there in 2012. This will be the year I regain my speed (relative though it is), with plenty of shorter races and such to test myself. I hope to round out the year with a very nice half-marathon. It’s not a “vacation year”; it’s a year of changing the focus. Long is good, but you can be lazy while going long. Sometimes, I hope, it pays to rev the motor a bit, even if you’re more of a long-range trucker than a sports car.

So. Here’s to the end of 2011, which had plenty of ups and downs for my running. Lots of injuries, but lots of milestones, too. I gave up my toenails, and I gained insight into gratitude for the miles. I got to learn about pool running when I was hurt, but I also learned to love swimming as a cross-training tool. I ran 5Ks and ultras, and they both taught me things I needed to know.

Tomorrow? I’m going for a run with my running club. Hope you’ll be out there, too.

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The PT actually scolded me a little at the last appointment, telling me to grab some “me time.” Well, ordinarily, that’s my run, but my knee is still grouchy. Had an MRI that showed just a little superficial swelling, and they said I could run “as tolerated,” but since I know I could easily “tolerate” myself into a major injury, I’m still being stingy with the mileage. Makes me grumpy to look at running logs of other JFK participants and see how quickly they bounced back.

At least I’m mostly done holiday shopping,  except for a couple of things…including for Eric. Is it me, or does shopping for a spouse gift get harder every year?

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One thing puke has going for it, though, over other forms of illness: total disambiguity. It’s not like a sore throat or headache, or even a cough. Throwing up means No School, with no room for subjectivity. Sam’s looking actually pretty healthy right now, playing Legos and being talkative, despite admitting that his stomach still hurts a bit, and if it hadn’t been for the undeniable evidence of illness, I’d be waffling over whether or not he ought to be at a desk right now. But puke is puke. No choice involved, so I feel mental relief on that end.

It’s easier that it’s Sam, of course. Not that I’d wish illness on either of my kids, but Sam is completely blasé about it. Gabe is my drama child; Sam takes what comes with some mild complaint, but doesn’t flail and scream. That’s my child; if you can’t change what is, well, then there’s no point thinking any further about it. (“Man, I hope my stomach stops hurting by lunchtime,” he says, and that’s the height of his frustration.) Gabe…well, I’ll get my chance to experience that side of things soon, I expect; Eric’s out of town, after all, so LET THE LORD OF CHAOS RULE.*

And now Sam’s making something involving rubber bands. I can’t wait to see this.

Gabe was unsure about heading off to school without Sam – the bus makes him nervous when he doesn’t have his brother on it with him – so I sketched a little angel on the back of his hand, which made him smile again. This is a child who likes something at which he can glance occasionally throughout the day, something tangible and reassuring. He was the one who required a heart drawn on the back of his hand, or often both hands, for weeks when he started kindergarten, so that he could stem the flow of homesick tears. Sam, Mr. “Take It as it Comes,” required no such thing. I wonder if his transition to middle school next year will be as seamless. Hope so, but middle school…man, I still get shudders.

Keep you fingers crossed that I don’t catch what Sam’s got. I don’t know which would be worse, Gabe or me, since at least if I stay healthy, I can keep us in fresh blankets and bowls.

*I never did finish that series. Bugged me when I found out Jordan had no plans to come to a conclusion of the story so long as folks were buying the books. Gah.

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– It’s good when the forgetful child is old enough that, say, when he forgets until the morning before school to tell you that he needs an all-disposable lunch, you can stick a couple of bucks in his hand, point him toward the corner store, and say, “Run.”

– Gabriel informs me that his class is making Christmas ornaments with clay, and he’s opted to make a dreidel. Combine this with how, since he can’t draw ordinary stars, he’s been scribbling Stars of David on everything lately, and I wonder if we’re going to end up in an interesting conversation with a confused teacher one of these days. (No, we’re not Jewish.)

– Second PT appointment this morning. I ran yesterday for the first time since JFK, and within a few miles I determined that the shoulder tolerates running, but the knee is dealing with both the bruise and ITBS. Ow! Luckily, it looks like using the foam roller doesn’t put too much strain on my shoulder, either. Freaked myself out reading everybody’s reports online about how their shoulder injury absolutely required surgery, but then I reminded myself that these were dedicated swimmers and triathletes (the only folks I could find discussing it in terms of endurance athletics), and I don’t need to be able to swim hard for miles.

– Tree is up. The boys were both very gungo-ho about that this year, for the first time taking over a major role in decorating it. Nice ages, this holiday! I barely had to do much ornament hanging at all, since they both dove headlong into the boxes and started hanging stuff all over. But, being boys – and strange ones at that – it got weird quickly. Gabe gathered all the wooden Santas and had them stage battles with each other. Sam started perching cars on the ends of branches. Then they both pretended that the ornaments were terrified of being “hanged” on the tree, and I heard a jingle-bell football player squeaking frantically, “Don’t hang me! I’m Aaron Rodgers’ son! And I’m too young!” I’ve said it before: boys are weird.

- Eric heads for Germany again here in a few weeks. So much fun – for him, that is. For us, it’s decidedly less so. But I’m grateful he has such a good job with a stable company, and he enjoys the travel, so I’m happy he gets to do it. Wish he’d blog about it or something, so I could enjoy it vicariously through more than a few camera phone pictures. Some of us have never left the country, other than a brief childhood sojourn across the border to the other side of Niagara Falls.

Gotta get dressed and head out. Does anybody know anything about Holidailies this year?

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HER: “Blood in the urine is pretty bad…”
ME: “But rhabdomylosis doesn’t go away because you drank a couple of bottles of water!”
HER: “…it went away? Oh!”

So she was all apologetic, and the rest of the appointment was fine. She did some quick checks of my shoulder, which continues to improve, and said it was pretty classic rotator cuff injury. The fact that I can now lift my arm over my head, even if it hurts some to do so, means that if there’s a tear, it’s not complete. She gave me a referral for PT, and she told me to stop wearing the sling, since as it heals, I run the risk of getting “frozen shoulder” if I keep it immobile. My knee, she says, is probably just bruised, since it didn’t show any signs of ligament or tendon damage.

I’ll continue to rest until my PT appointment on Tuesday (using the same PTs I had before, when I did Devil’s Lake; I like that they match my preference for aggressive treatment), when I can ask what sort of exercise I can do as I heal. Something tells me running might not benefit this shoulder, but what do I know? I thought broken ribs this summer would mean no running, but I was wrong about that.

In the meantime, Eric’s elbow is bugging him, which he’s apparently been ignoring for a bit, until it’s now gotten pretty bad. How on earth are the two of us going to get a Christmas tree up, I ask you?

One of the boys brought home this brochure from school:

Go on; read it. I'll wait.

Proofreading: it’s your friend.

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Actually, at this point, most of the ordinary muscle soreness has abated. If my shoulder and knee weren’t aching from the falls, I would almost certainly be gearing up to (slowly) trot through either the 2-mile or 5K Thanksgiving Day runs I have around me. (Not the 10K yet, though.) But despite the fact that I think I am seeing improvement – I was able to use both hands to wash my hair today! – I’m still playing things cautiously. I’ve raced enough miles this year, and I don’t feel guilty for not doing two races inside one week when one of those races was fifty miles.

Sort of difficult to snap a picture of a slinged (slung?) arm.

The official race photographs are starting to be processed. While a few are really nice…

Heading up the first, long, hill.

Feeling goofy on the AT

I just don't even know.

…only one really captures my late-race feelings with crystal clarity:

Bear and grin it!

I recalled reading in The Hip Mama Survival Guide, back when I was pregnant with Sam, how Ariel Gore scrawled herself a note during labor: “NEVER DO THIS AGAIN.” That came back to me several times during the race, making me wish I had paper and pencil to do similarly, since, like her, I had a feeling that amnesia would kick in and make me forget just how bad this hurt. That photo does nicely. On the other hand, I can feel that the amnesia is sneaking in. Would I do it again? Well…

I need to seriously assess whether I can become a better trail runner, or whether I’m destined to forever be the Queen of Fall, no matter what I do. Would practice help? Ankle strengthening? Balance work? Improving form? Or is it a case of general clutziness that can’t be eradicated? That would at least determine what kinds of these races I’d consider in the future, if not totally dictate the yes or no. I love going long, so maybe I should just avoid crazy technical stuff if I want to do that? St. Pat’s was a blast, and I could totally see doing the twelve-hour!

Doesn’t really matter right now; I have time. I’m taking time away from distance for the coming year. Over the course of this training, I’ve noticed my speed ebb away as my endurance grew, and while the tradeoff seemed acceptable, it’s something I plan to fix in 2012. Lots of 5Ks and 10Ks, maybe rounding out the year with a very nice half-marathon, but meanwhile doing all the speedwork I’ve been ignoring for a year. Good news? Fewer 4AM Saturday morning runs. Bad news? I hate sucking wind. Good for the soul, though!

I can’t wait for these injuries to get better. My house is a wreck, but between the knee scolding me when I bend it too much and the shoulder yelling when I reach for things…well, the clutter will have to wait.

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So I mentioned I hurt my shoulder, right? And that I was going to the doctor when I got home? Well, yesterday morning, I called my doctor’s office right as they opened, chuckling over my joking prediction, made directly to my doctor, that I’d be seeing her when I got back. We thought it would be for my legs or something running-related, but it was true nevertheless. Point is, my doc knew what I was doing this weekend, and she at least sort of understood.

The receptionist and I joked around about why I was calling (“Fifty miles?!”), and she told me that my doctor was busy all day. I could either wait until Tuesday, or I could see another doctor, new to the practice. I went with the fast. BAD CHOICE. All I wanted was a check on my shoulder, mind you…

New doc’s assistant was mildly freaked from the get-go, as she took my history, but I didn’t think much about it. I mean, I recognize that ultrarunning isn’t what you’d call a common hobby around here, but since I was there because of a fall, not the running, I pressed on. She left, wide-eyed, and I waited, trying to keep the kids calm. (Thanksgiving Break! Such good timing! )

The doctor came in with eyes already pre-popped. For some reason, even the fact that Gabe was hiding behind the table (just for fun, because he’s Gabe) made her look more unnerved. I tried to tell her the basics of why I was there: shoulder hurt in fall; knee possibly hurt as well, but I couldn’t tell if it was IT band or from the rock that hit it. She couldn’t stop thinking about the race, though. When she asked what painkillers I’d taken, and I explained that I hadn’t had many because I wanted to let my irritated bladder settle down a bit after the single incident of bloody urine, she completely flipped out.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she said, actually holding my hands, “but I want you to go to the ER. You’ve exceeded what this clinic can do for you.”

“Really? I just wanted my shoulder checked…”

“Blood in the urine can be a sign of a very bad thing after exercise.”

“I do not have rhabdomyolysis. The blood went away after I drank water, I had no fever, and there’s no pain.”

“Painkillers can hide it.”

“I didn’t take them!”

“But the blood…”

“It went away! There’s no more blood!”

“I need you to go to the ER now, because you might need an IV.”

“Oh, for…can it wait until this afternoon? My kids have school conferences.”

Her eyes bugged more. “Can your husband take them?”

“I want to go to the conferences!”

“Do you promise me that you will go? I will call ahead and ask them to look for you.” Apparently, I looked like a danger to myself.

So I left, highly ticked off. I called back from the car, trying to double-check with my own doctor, but apparently new doc had already talked to her, and whatever she said had alarmed my doctor, too. I went to the conferences, and then we went to the ER, where – oh, glorious day! – I finally scored some medical professionals who understood. The nurse who came to me said, “I just ran my first half-marathon! They told me I had to take you, and when I saw your history, I understood why!” The doctor was a runner, too, and nobody gave me any crap; they were just interested in hearing the story.

Of course, I did not have rhabdo. I did have a mild bladder infection, though with my history of getting those asymptomatically, I’ll bet it was there pre-race. The x-rays of shoulder and knee showed no broken bones, so they said to ice and rest, and if things don’t improve in the next few days, I have the number of an ortho guy. Oh, and I got stronger NSAIDs.

What I didn’t get all day? Rest. So today, that’s what I’m doing, at last. And nobody better look at me like I’m nuts, either. Had enough of that to last.

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Flew into Maryland, got to Hagerstown; went to the expo to get my race bib. I had prepared my parents for a teeny-tiny “expo,” since their only experience with a race expo was in DC for the Marine Corps Marathon, but I was surprised at how much was there to see. Multiple booths, nice things! I nearly walked out without a JFK50 car magnet, since buying one felt sort of like a jinx, but when I walked out of the hotel and saw all the cars that had those magnets, I decided it must be a “thing,” so I went back for one. It was very intimidating to walk around that crowd, I have to say. The race shirts folks were wearing were all for races I’ve only read about – hundred milers, etc. – and then there were folks in Ironman things, multiple Marathon Maniacs, and lots of people wearing shirts that declared them members of the “500 Mile Club” (people who’ve done the JFK 50 at least ten times). I felt so out of my depth!

I did sleep well the night before, surprisingly. Woke up before my alarm went off, just lying there in the dark and…not panicking. Yet, anyway. I felt pretty relaxed as I got ready, telling myself it was “just a little jog in the woods.” My parents friends showed up, and we all headed to Boonsboro together, where a race briefing was held at 6:20. I saw Mike Wardian stretching out a little ways away from me in the gym beforehand, which was a pretty cool experience. Later, when the race director was having race veterans who anticipated finishing in a certain time stand up, a man sitting right behind me made a movement, and the director said, “David Horton, you’re not even running this year!” I spun around and stared in awe. Ultrarunning fangirl, ’tis I.

Thing was, everybody looked crazy fit and not a bit nervous, which was making me feel extra-nervous. Was everybody there as collected as they seemed? Was I the only “JFK virgin” in the room?! Gah.

We left the gym, and the weather was absolutely perfect. I decided I wouldn’t need the headlamp I’d brought, and I planned to exchange my fleece hat for a cap when I saw my parents at the end of the Appalachian Trail. We all hiked down the road to the starting line, about 1,000 yards away; before I got to that point, I heard the signal to start, and the crowd started moving, but I honestly had no idea where the actual start was. Certainly, there were no mats in evidence, even though it was a chip-timed race.

I fell in with a woman who did the race a couple of years ago, and as we chatted, sharing stories, some of hers sounded familiar to me…turned out, she was Dana, whose blog I’ve read! After the initial climb up the road to South Mountain Inn, where we found the trail for the first time, I lost her; there was no way I was going to try to stay with a specific person on the AT, especially somebody with whom I didn’t train, so I let her go and didn’t see her again.

The trail turns out onto fire road, which is another steep climb that seems to go forever. Honestly, you don’t really get onto the Appalachian until around five miles in, but once you do…oh, my. My regrets about not training more on the Ice Age Trail immediately evaporated; the only way to prepare for running on this trail would have been to run on this trail. Far rockier, far more technical than anything, ANYTHING, I had available to me. I nearly fell very early on, grabbing a tree with both arms and feeling very relieved that I didn’t “kiss the earth” then.

That didn’t happen until mile 8. I landed and slid hard on my side, arm outstretched, and I felt something go “pop” in my shoulder. I knew right away that I’d done a Bad Thing to it, but I also rationalized that you don’t need an arm to run, so I kept going. I couldn’t cross my arm over my chest without severe pain, even in reaching up to brush my cheek, but I had another arm for that, so I put it out of my head and kept going, ignoring the pain.

At mile 12, I fell again, this time gouging and bruising my knee. Surprised I didn’t tear my tights, really, which would have made me angry. I walked for a bit after that, feeling quite frustrated but determined not to be beaten; I did see one woman after that point whose fall ended her day out there, sobbing and unable to stand, so I felt lucky not to be worse off.

Once we reached the switchbacks off the trail, I honestly felt a little better; it was very treacherous and scary, but I finally felt like it wasn’t “just me” – everybody around me was struggling and going extremely slowly and cautiously. Mom and Dad were waiting at the bottom, and they said they saw lots of blood and injuries coming down, along with people tumbling the last part. I gave them my hat, jacket, and gloves and set off again for the towpath.

Now, at that point, I still had about 35 miles to go, and on a good day, that would have perhaps felt okay, but after beating the living Bejeezus out of yourself, it’s a different story. I went to my tried-and-true 9:1 run/walk intervals, which I was able to maintain fairly well, but I was exhausted. I started getting hot spots on my foot around mile 22, so I stopped and reapplied Body Glide then, and getting back up was hard. By mile 29 or 30, I was at an extreme low point. My shoulder was on fire, my knee was aching, and I wanted…something. Anything. I still had 20 miles to go!

Actually, just before that, I had a high point around mile 24, where a North Pole-themed aid station temporarily lifted my spirits. Got my photo taken with Santa and enjoyed a Christmas cookie and the BEST CHICKEN SOUP EVER. That high was great; just wish it had lasted. [EDIT: that was actually mile 34, not 24. My brain is so foggy about the sequence of events after such a long day!]

On and on and on. I leap-frogged particular runners, feeling pretty good if I could pass them with enough distance that they didn’t pass me again on my next walk break. (Blue shirt woman, you finally got the best of me; congratulations. ) I saw my folks a couple more times at different aid stations, but I was in such a haze that I barely recognized them. One interesting thing: several times, I was suddenly taken by an overwhelming urge to cry, out of nowhere, and a minute after that, I’d notice that I was having trouble drawing breath. I’d walk a bit, and both the tears and the chest tightness would pass.

We finally left the trail at mile marker 84, and I was given a reflective vest as we hit the road. There were only about 8 miles left, and I was feeling okay – exhausted, overwhelmingly sore, mentally in shambles, but at least confident of finishing. The roads rolled, and I tried to keep up my 9:1, making exceptions for the steep hills. And then, with about six miles left, the inside of my ankle, which had been aching, though not more than any other part of my body, suddenly decided to step up its game. I could barely walk, let alone run. It was so bad that I began to cry. I walked, and I walked, and I called Eric to cry to him, and I kept walking. When the pain dulled a little, I started doing a pattern of running 100 steps, then walking for 10. Repeat. Grit teeth.

Around the last couple of miles, I switched focus. Wasn’t hallucinating, but I focused hard on seeing Sam and Gabe on either side of me. They pulled me, grabbing my hands and giggling for me to hurry up. Sam told me he could run faster than me; Gabe told me to “man up.” I chanted their names and whispered to them, letting them drive me up the road, nearly crying when I saw the lights at the finish. “It’s here, kids. We made it!”

I finished in 10:19:35, 486th out of an eventual 941 finishers. My time would have been better had I not had to walk so much of the final miles, but I was elated with the time, as I stumbled over the line and immediately yelled for help with my ankle. They took me to the medical area and iced and bandaged me; they also checked my shoulder but weren’t as concerned about it. (Naturally, the ankle is fine today, but the shoulder? Yeah, I’m wearing a sling and going to the doctor when I get back. It’s in agony.)

A scarier moment came after I got home, went to use the bathroom, and urinated copious amounts of blood. Aaaaaaugh! I ran to the computer, reassured myself (it can be normal, from the jarring of the bladder, if there are no other symptoms like fever or abdominal pain, neither of which I had), then pounded water for the next couple of hours, until my urine was back to normal. Phew.

Anyway, I didn’t sleep at all well, due to the pain, and the soreness is getting worse and worse all over now, so the next few days should be interesting. I had been hoping to swim for a bit to help with that, but with a bum shoulder, that’s probably off the table. Not sure what I can do with that. But I’m wearing my medal, my JFK vest, and a huge smile, along with my sling, and I’ll limp with pride when I get to the airport and explain to the security folks just why I can’t get into the machine requiring me to hold my hands over my head. Because the pain? Worth it.

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Never done the whole “Go Go” airplane wireless thing before. I’m in the air, somewhere over…oh, who knows. Not Wisconsin anymore, probably, and not yet Maryland. On my way, and on a very uneventful flight, so far.

Sam was scared of me flying. Gabe was terrified of me falling off a mountain during the race. Nobody is allowed to give him any more scary race details, at least until after I’ve finished running; he was trying so hard to convince me to find another, less steep, path off the trail tomorrow.

Anyway. What time is it? Phone says quarter after seven, but I don’t know if the time zone has changed yet. Let’s just say we’re about 24 hours away from race time, give or take, and all’s as well as I could reasonably expect. Cross your fingers, wish me luck, and pray that this pilot is good at landing – because a crash right now would seriously torque me off.

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That’s the feeling I want. I’ve been wearing my St. Pat’s bracelet for the past couple days as a reminder of that: I’m doing this race because I love to run. Running isn’t scary; it’s my playground. I can be spent and happy. It’s going to be wild.

And every time I start freaking out, I stare at the bracelet and think: “Happy. Happy. Get happy!”

So. Six days. I just gave myself a wonderful lower-leg massage, which I’ll continue to do, and I’m going to rest and chill and Feel Happy until game day. Whee! And if happy turns maniacal in the latter days, well that’s all part of the spectrum.

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And I had a sore throat and sinus headache for a good portion of the morning and afternoon. Guess how that played out for me, in terms of my calm. Probably just the heater, but still…

Tapering is destroying my mind. I have never been so in need of physical rest as I am this time around, and yet the act of stepping back is making me feel as though I’m throwing away all my training with wild abandon. I’ve never freaked about tapering for a marathon, or even for the other ultras, but fifty miles is a lot of miles, and how could I possibly be ready if I’m sitting on my butt right now? Ack!

Actually, I remember those potatoes from Devil’s Lake, and they were darn good.

Ten miles tomorrow – the last long run before the race. My stomach is in constant knots. I think we’ve finally hit that magical tipping point where I’m more afraid of the race than I am of the plane ride getting there, and that, my friends, is where I truly know that I’ve hit the great unknown. Wow…

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Gabe’s “reluctance” (yes, let’s call it that) to take his medicine continues. Tonight, flipping Sam took over the role of cajoler, and that worked about as well as it does for Eric or me; Sam pushed hard with the “I’ll play video games with you if you take it,” and eventually Gabe caved. I can’t believe we have to keep this up for about another week…

Spent a chunk of time this afternoon annotating an elevation chart of the JFK course with aid stations, cut-off times, and possible paces. Obsessing? Who, me? I’d say it’s how I’m staying sane, but I’m pretty sure sanity is a realm I left long ago. (A cut-off I didn’t miss.)

Sleepy now.

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But that was grace from above for other reasons. Gabe spent all of last night, from about nine o’clock on, in agony from a raging ear infection. I gave him pain killers, which gave him periods of slight relief during which he slept fitfully, but when they’d wear off, he’d wail and gnash his teeth again. We kept him in our bed, so as to avoid disturbing Sam too much, which meant that his every thrash met my body with a solid thump. Eric took him to Urgent Care this morning and got him some antibiotics…along with a set of his own, earned when, while trying to reassure Gabe about the pulse-ox monitor, he and the nurse discovered that he was a few breaths away from a horrid case of walking pneumonia. Now they’re both in bed, languishing. My heart breaks for them (and my head whispers that I might want to wear a mask for a while…); they look miserable.

Related to nothing, I got a pair of Stabilyx tights – a gift from Eric for my birthday – and wore them for the first time today. It was an experience just getting them on the first time. “Put the X around your knee,” the instructions said, and there I was, huffing and puffing to get it to my…ankle. Wow. After much exertion, they seemed to fit all right, and I’m not all that sore post-run, but I don’t know how sore I was expecting to be, anyway; time will tell if they’re truly the magic so many people claim they are!

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November, finally/already. This whole year has been just bizarre, feeling in turns hurried and crammed, and yet creeping and slow. I don’t think I’ll miss it, though you’ll have to forgive me if I revisit that thought after finishing JFK. Could be a redeeming factor (or otherwise, which I choose not to consider right now). I think I just want to get to 2012 and see if it can be a more consistent year – though I’ll also press my luck and hope for consistently good. Don’t I just want everything?

Halloween was the same mix of strange. On the one side, both boys were in miraculous agreement as to when they wanted to finish trick-or-treating, without one howling at the moon to go home while the other begged for “just one more block.” On the other hand, their agreement stemmed from the fact that rain was blowing in our faces and wind was turning our umbrellas inside-out. Then they happily agreed that they wanted to go to a particular restaurant (a rare non-fighting event!), which was supposed to be letting kids eat free in costume. Well, apparently, that offer was good for actual Halloween night only, and our town’s trick-or-treat was happening the night before. I guess the restaurant got off lucky on that bargain; don’t know too many folks who would have been willing to re-costume the kids for the next night. Oh, well.

Gabe, by the way was “The Dread Pirate Roberts” from The Princess Bride – a choice which, while awesome, would have been obscure enough amongst the first-grade circle, but he made it more so by introducing himself all day long as “Wesley.” Sam went as a World War II flying ace, and Eric said people kept asking him if he was “The Aviator.” He just blinked.

(“Wesley” was wearing a laced black shirt beneath his leather jacket, but it was too cold to forgo the coat. Sam’s coat was part of his costume, so he was thrilled to not need adaptations.)

Gotta go get them from the bus stop!

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Anyway, I talked to the director and found out the course was to be coned by 6AM, so that’s when I got there and started running, light in hand. I drove most of the course the day before, so I had a pretty good idea of what to expect, which came in handy in the tricky spots that hadn’t gotten fully marked yet. It was almost entirely a road course (about a mile on a paved path) and not closed entirely, but there was little traffic as I ran by myself. A bit chilly, but otherwise, it was very pleasant. I did 9:1 (in minutes) run/walk intervals, and I finished the first 13.1-mile loop in a little over two hours, taking it easy and enjoying myself.

There was a small crowd building back at the start, but I didn’t have to wait more than a few minutes for a portajohn. Then we lined up and took off! I kept going with the run/walk, stepping off the road shoulder into the grass to walk when I could, since there was only an extremely narrow strip of road marked off with cones for the runners. To top that off, we spent most of the race running with traffic instead of on the safer, opposite, side, so I got slightly nervous about the cars whipping past us.

In fact, midway through the fourth mile, I saw flashing lights and cars blocking half the road, and when I got closer, I saw a crying runner strapped to a back board with her neck in a brace. At the time, I didn’t know what had happened, but the story is slowly leaking out that she was hit by a car. The initial reports sounded minor, but now I’m reading that she may have been seriously injured with a skull fracture – a terrible thing to hear.

The second loop was harder in some ways and easier in others. I felt tired, of course, and where I’d been hoping for crowd support to buoy me, there was very little. On the other hand, running with others gives its own energy, so that did help. Also, knowing where the hills were to come (read: the last mile!) was better than turning the corner and being surprised. I finished the second loop a little faster than the first, in 1:59:18, for a total marathon time of 4:00:36 – not bad for a run-walk!

So now I taper. We now hit the period where I back off, rest more, and can finally see through to the end, when I’ll get to finally do – oh, crap…

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What put it into my head was that last night, we were doing our Bible lesson, and both boys are working to memorize Psalm 23. Sam’s pretty much got it, but Gabe…well, he gets the gist of the chapter, but the words are still elusive:
“He makes me lie on the grass and drink the water.”
“He sets a table with presents in front of my enemies.”
“You fill my head with oil.”

Last night, he got so frustrated that he declaimed the whole thing, yelling, “He leads me down the paths! Of righteousness! for HIS NAME’S SAKE!” and he reminded me so much of Homer (“Take thy beak from out my heart…”) that I couldn’t help myself.

They’re so funny, as they gather more and more tropes from which to draw their humor and references. I won’t spoil the surprise for Halloween, but I’m particularly pleased with Gabe’s choice of costume. Sam tried to base his costume choice around a toy gun that struck his fancy, but I drew a line; for one thing, he wouldn’t be allowed to take said gun to school, anyway, and for another, there are way better ways to choose costumes than by saying, “What will match this cheapo plastic Uzi, probably solidly constructed from recycled Happy Meal toys?” So we went head-to-head, and we came up with a costume that’s slightly more creative, while still allowing him to indulge his fascination in all things bang-bang-shoot-’em-up.

Sam’s trying so hard lately, struggling with the whole exit from young kidhood, that I hate, er, shooting him down like that. (Ow, tomato.) His math tutoring is going better than he expected it to, now that he’s seeing that the tutor is a fun young guy, not an extra taskmaster to please. A while ago, we had removed certain privileges, particularly online ones, and he’s trying to bargain to get them back in exchange for bringing up his grades, so I’m interested to see how this goes. In the meantime, though, I see signs of stress weighing on him; he’s becoming rather obsessive, for example, about making sure the last thing we say to each other at night and before he leaves in the morning is “Good night[/bye], I love you.” If I dare insert anything after saying that, it has to be repeated, as though I’ve negated the thought. The same holds for his interactions with Gabe and Eric. But he seems to be biting his cuticles less, so I suppose it’s a tradeoff…

Gabe has discovered Pokémon. ‘Nuff said.

Anyway, they’re off to have their heads filled for the day (with more book larnin’, not oil, Gabe), and as soon as I finish this cup of coffee (and the one after it), I’ll be running four miles in the rain. This is my last “peak week,” and then it’s taper time! Hopefully, this week beats me up less than last, though I’ve technically got more miles; my “Birthday Run” on Friday, at the Ice Age Trail, absolutely annihilated my quads, and they’re still a bit achey. I’ve got so much KT Tape up and down my legs, in various colors, that I look like a battle diagram. It’s sexy. Love the stuff, though. I wondered if it was just psychosomatic, but the times that I’ve removed the tape and delayed putting it back on, the aches that had faded have begun to return quickly, so I trust that it’s doing its job.

Still haven’t picked my own Halloween costume. What should I be?

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That was a FUN race! I mean, sure, I was wiped at the end, and there were moments where I felt more tired than others, but seriously – fun was had. The course was a little over three miles, and it was over groomed grass, dirt, and a small amount of asphalt. There was one short downhill that I loved, and one short uphill that was fairly impossible to run (sandy, very loose rocks of varying sizes), and I loved it for its imposed walk break. I loved the whole course.

I played fast and loose with my 9:1 run/walk intervals, running through the breaks when I felt like it, but only really walking more at the end, after I’d covered my mandated 50K for the day. Met lots of folks, enjoyed their company, and never once was really tempted to go for the iPod I had stashed in my drop bag at the start of the loop. (Okay, maybe when “Praise to the Lord” was stuck in my head and I couldn’t recall any of the actual lyrics after the first phrase…”Da da da DUMMM da-da da da da hope of salvation” can only carry you so far.)

Took gels every five miles or so, Endurolytes on the hour, and tried a bit of solid food, mostly to test whether it’ll sit well at JFK. (Mostly yes.) Made a big error before my last long loop when I took a cup of Mountain Dew – and chugged it. Oof, that made me nauseated for almost a mile before the bubbles died down and the sugar kicked in!

In all, I covered 34.68 miles in 5:55:37, according to my Garmin. (Official results won’t be up until all the racers have finished, including the 24-hour folks who won’t finish until 8AM tomorrow.) I did the last mile on a separate 1/2-mile loop they set up for folks who didn’t have time or energy for a whole 3-mile left at the end.

All in all, a gorgeous, fun, great time. I would totally do that again! And my first prize bag included a lovely stoneware mug, some Wright socks, a coupon for a new Road ID (which I needed!), and a big jug of Gatorade Perform powder. Sweet.

Oh, and supposedly it was windy. Advisory and everything. I barely noticed.

 

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Caribou this morning, since we ran plumb out of beans here at home, and do you think I could go for a morning without? Ha. Think again, son.

So tomorrow is race day, and as of the official registration cut-off, I stand as the only runner for six hours. This made me fire off an email to the race director, because, honestly, when we made our original plans for me to run in South Bend this weekend, the thought was for a single night at a hotel, then showering and heading back that evening. But the awards ceremony isn’t until the 24-hour finishers are done the next morning…and now I’m the de facto winner of my division. (Never stops being funny.) Would I need to stick around? The RD assured me that they could give me my prize after my race finished – an unceremonious procedure, but it’s an unceremonious win. I thanked her:

Thanks; that helps with planning.

I also wondered: this is my first timed run, and I’m not sure about the mechanics. I know from reading race reports that the 24-hour folks, and probably the 12-hour ones, set up small “camp” areas, where they keep their food and supplies, but for a six-hour, should I plan otherwise? Or should I plan to have a bag where I can keep gels, etc. that I might want? As I said, I’ve never done this before.

Her response:

You will like the timed event.
We will have all kinds of gels, fluids, and food for you.
There will also be an area for you to have a drop bag with things you might like in it. The area around and in the red barn is the area for the runners so feel free to bring a chair or two, change of socks, etc in case you get tired and want rest a bit.

Sounds good to me. This could be my kind of event! Chairs and everything! (Not that I’m planning on taking any extended rest periods; by my calculations, on a 3-mile loop, I have plenty of time cushion to accomplish what I want to do, even accounting for slowing down, but I’m not going to abuse it, either.)

Here’s the only part that has me nervous. From somebody who posted on the event’s Facebook page:

…The challenge comes when passing through the trees in the woods on the bluff section as there is quite a few roots under those leaves. And trees along the river have dropped quite a few of their leaves to the tune of 3-4 inches deep. This area along the river has just as many roots to feel out for. The sad thing is that a recent Xcountry meet took place and someone painted the roots a yellow color. Duh! All the leaves are a yellow color to [sic].

Good practice for the Appalachian Trail, I suppose.

Anyway, wish me luck and good times! I do think I’m going to do this thing with just a handheld bottle, leaving my needed supplies by my bag. It’s just too convenient a plan to skip.

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I’m running the 6-hour in two days, during which I hope to cover the 50K distance called for in the plan. As things stand right now, I am the only person signed up to do the 6-hour time during the event (everybody else is signed up for the 12 and 24-hour times), so…I’ll “win”? Right. Go me. I’m just keeping my eyes on the immediate finish, because looking ahead of that point is Too Much. When I posted my last entry, I made a critical error; next Saturday, I have to run 24 miles, not 10. When I realized that, I felt like crying, just because it was such a shock to the system. I got over it, and it’ll be okay, but…darn, man.

Everything else is progressing as it will. Sam is handling school okay, with the exception of math, but we’re exploring ways to help that (a teenager from our church will be tutoring him once a week, for one). He switched to trombone instead of trumpet, and he’s all excited over a new unit on architecture they just began in class. Gabe is chugging along, enjoying schoolwork and activities, except for swimming – that’s going poorly at the moment for him, but I have faith we’ll have another upswing sooner or later. He hates the water temperature most of all, despite wearing a shirt over his torso to help it. He’s turning seven in a few weeks, so that’s a big obsession for him, too.

Eric has the patience of a saint, putting up with all of our ups and downs. I’ve promised him less chaos from my end, at least, by mid-November. JFK is only about a month away now, and that just never stops getting freakier.

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Tomorrow I’m running 22 miles. This is not a problem; I can run 22 miles. Cool beans. Next Saturday, it’s 24 – also not a problem, though that, combined with 22 tomorrow and 22 last Saturday might just leave me a bit taxed. The Saturday after that, I only have to run 10, which sounds like a veritable tip-toe through the meadow. Might wear a tutu. (It’s not a taper – it’s a “taperette,” because…)

In three weeks, I’m driving to South Bend and running for six hours, attempting to get in around 31 miles in the course of the race. Whee. “Only” a few more miles over what I’ll have been running, but what I’m trying hard not to remember is how 31 miles felt last July. Of course, the difference between repeating a simple three-mile loop course until my head spins and running a “trail” designed by a descendant of the Marquis de Sade might bear mention, but…that’s a lot of miles, and a long time time to run.

In four weeks, it’s 10 more tutu miles, and then in five weeks, it’s 26 miles, which I intend to do as an “out-and-back” on a half-marathon course here in town. (Might go as a crazy person. Would I even have to change?)

Seven weeks, 16 miles…eight weeks, 10 miles…and then…then…

…it’s show time. (Can’t! Stop! Laughing! at those first fifteen miles!)

So. I’m just sitting here, wrapping my brain around it. In nine weeks, I go home, possibly to die falling off the freaking Appalachian Trail. This seemed like such a good idea back in June. After this, I might take up water polo, or competitive miniature golf.

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Good thing I’m recovered; I had a 22-miler this morning that I definitely didn’t want to miss or reschedule. I started at 4 AM, running on the bike trail, and it was almost surreally peaceful; I switched off my flashlight after a few minutes and just ran through the darkness, soaking it in.

Anyway, so much for any family activities today, but that’s fine. Gabe’s perfectly happy to stage elaborate play scenes with his miniature figures – a little more subdued than normal, but still entertaining – and Sam’s actually doing homework without being forced into it, simply to have something to do other than focus on how miserable he feels, poor thing. Eric’s eating lunch, and then I’ll bet he’ll spend some time resting, too. Another reason I’m glad to be recovered; I don’t mind at all running errands and whatnot to allow the rest of the family time to get better.

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Somebody who’s done this, please reassure me on the point? ::Frantically re-reading Running Through the Wall again::

School is progressing normally; due to Labor Day weekend, they’re only on their third day of school today. Gabe’s got his first test coming up at the end of the week, a reading test (small “sight words” that he should be able to recognize without sounding them out), and he’s a little nervous about that. Sam has his laissez-faire attitude going on again, and I hope that doesn’t extend again toward the bringing home of homework, but we’ll see. His new teacher, new to the school, said that he’ll be keeping us up to date on missing assignments (not that they won’t be marked down or even not given credit at all), so I hope that’s reliable.

Labor Day weekend itself was fun. We hit the closing weekend of the Renaissance fair, a bonfire with friends, and had lots of time to just relax and let sore muscles heal. Wait, maybe that was just me. It’s a running step-back week (FINALLY), and my body is thanking me profusely now!

Getting my hair cut now. (Might just get ‘em all cut. Ba-dump-bump.)

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The kids are being kids, which, well, duh. It’s the last couple of weeks of summer vacation, and they’re apparently all out of energy, except what they can expend in manic bursts as shouts at a computer screen or video game or each other. (Oh, yay, there they go again. “IT’S MY LEGO PIECE! GIVE IT BACK!” as though we don’t have giant plastic tubs overflowing with Legos. That one is special.) We did almost all the school supply shopping yesterday, with the exception of Sam’s oil pastels and erasable blue pens. Beyond the weird specificity of the latter, haven’t we all decided that erasable pens are pure evil by now? They smear, they blot, they don’t really erase anyway…and he already bought some black ones, also found on the list. Why do we need blue ones, too? What’s the bizarre importance, here?

Perhaps I’d mind less in a better mood. But you should have seen the epic tantrum Gabe threw when we couldn’t find them at our second stop yesterday, before I managed to make him understand that we didn’t need to go searching in another place that day. Of course, he was only expressing the frustration probably felt by every one of the parents packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the narrow school supply aisles, but he was doing it with panache. And volume. And what we’ll call “interpretive dance,” so as to give his six-year-old pride a little break. Heck, I was hot and tired, too, so I can understand how his breaking point got smashed to bits there.

My ribs are still fiercely aching, and even my face still hurts some, usually when I forget about it and go to rest my cheek in my hand or put on moisturizer a little too slap-dashedly. Swimming on Monday morning was a failure from the get-go (had to use a kickboard for the entire workout, since stroking with my arms was agonizing), and I called the doctor afterward, who prescribed me some pain pills with instructions to call her if things didn’t improve after a while. Funny thing is, she wants me to take them at bedtime, but the pain is the worse when I wake. That’s when I need help; the first hour after getting out of bed, I’m creeping around like an old lady who can barely stand up without wincing. By bedtime, it’s not so bad; maybe being upright for that long just inures me to the pain or something. Who knows?

Need a cheer-up.

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One of the only “misses” on the trip was the Top Secret attraction, which Gabe was desperate to see, and which he begged and begged for us to go to, and which he happily pranced into…and which he and I had to flee through an emergency exit provided by the tour guide midway through, with Gabe howling in my ear, “THAT WAS HORRIFYING! Why would they SHOW ME that?! I’m going to be TERRIFIED FOR LIFE!” He even grabbed a little girl by the elbow, as she was crossing the parking lot with her parents, to say, “Just so you know, it’s really, really scary in there!” (As a footnote, when we left the Dells this afternoon after Gabe had exchanged an extremely tearful goodbye with his grandparents, he said, “Now we just need to go back to Top Secret! This moment is so bad, that would even cheer me up!”)

But that was the only down side, other than the occasional squabbling about whether we should be splashing in the water park or waving wands at Magiquest, or whether it ought to be the restaurant featuring paper moose antlers or model trains for dinner. That’s to be expected, and there were no catastrophes.

Well, I say “no catastrophes,” and that’s true, though I guess it did come close. I kept up with my running while I was there, and I saved my longest midweek run for a trail run at Mirror Lake. It was worth it; the views were incredible, and I had the whole trail to myself. I picked the one marked with the highest difficulty, a mountain bike trail, and it was very rolling, with plenty of steeper hills mixed in. No human souls, but plenty of wildlife; I shared the morning with wild turkeys, a doe with two fawns darting in front of me, and an adorable pitch-black squirrel that kept popping up. I was in a great mood right before mile four, when I passed a “Do Not Enter” sign; it made me giggle, thinking it really needed a pink ribbon tied to it (I guess I didn’t mention in the race report; the “course” was so rough that every time we saw a “Do Not Enter” or “Keep Out” sign, it was nearly always marked with a pink ribbon indicating that we needed to duck under any barrier and plow forward.)

So I was giggling about that, and my mind wandered for a crucial second, and a root jumped up and grabbed my toe. I took a hard fall to the ground, landing heavily on my rib cage and face. Ow. It took several long minutes for me to regain myself, just lying there, staring at the tree canopy, trying to breathe. After a while, I sat up and spat out big mouthfuls of mud, trying to see whether I’d broken anything really important; my hat had flown off my head and up the trail a ways, and I was a little worried I’d broken my face. My ribs were killing me, but my legs seemed okay, if scraped.

The last two miles were slow and painful, but, you know, you have to finish what you start, especially if you’re the only one on the trail and your car is at the end. Got back to the hotel and iced my face and ribs; happily, that kept my cheek from swelling up into my eye, but there’s still a shadow of a bruise there, and the ribs are pretty sore. My mother-in-law was a nurse, though, and she agreed that I probably didn’t need to go to the Urgent Care, since all they’d do is tell me to ice it and take ibuprofen. It’s not debilitating, just achy. Could have been a lot worse, I suppose.

Anyway, we’re back now, and there’s laundry to do and routines to resume. School starts in a few weeks, and I haven’t bought a single supply for that. Time to get cracking!

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I was at running club this morning, and one of our regulars brought a friend with him. I could tell from a distance what the guy was, in his mud-covered trail shoes, compression calf sleeves, bottle waistpack, and big bushy beard. I was right; he was introduced as a grizzled ultrarunner, with a few handfuls of 100-milers under his belt. So, naturally, I was thrilled to run with him and pick his brain, and the conversation was great; he was a really nice guy. It was a true pleasure to share the trails with him!

At one point, while we were talking, I asked whether he did set intervals when he was doing ultraruns. He laughed quietly. “I can tell you’re a marathoner,” he said. Only in the company of ultrarunners would that be a gently derogatory comment! I laughed, too, because he’s right; with only one ultra to my credit, I am much more of a marathoner. But it was a misunderstanding; he thought I meant, like, distance intervals, such as you might do on a track, when I really meant loosely-timed run-walk intervals. When I clarified, he said he often does 15-minute runs to 5-minute walks.

Then, skipping ahead an hour, I found myself in a drugstore, sweating profusely and waiting for Eric to get me. (Explanation coming.) While I stood there, an older man came up to me, clearly shocked and bewildered. “What’s wrong?!” he said. “Are you okay?” I explained that I was running just prior. “But it’s too hot out there!” he gasped. “And you’re just a BABY!” I’ll admit to having to hide my giggle when he said that. He left, shaking his head, after making certain I didn’t need help from him in any way.

So, I’m a marathoning baby. I’ll take that over the much more deserved teasing I got from Eric, when he came to get me from the store, three miles away from my car, where I’d run completely accidentally after missing a turn and getting totally, mind-bogglingly lost. It was hot, muggy, and I was exhausted and apparently had sweat my bloody brains out through my pores, because I have no better explanation for how I managed to get so confused. It’s a planned city. I’ve run there many, many times. I had a GPS on my wrist and another (my phone) in my pouch. I just…I have no excuse. Complete dunderhead. Good thing trail races are usually marked. (Also, good thing I have such an understanding spouse, who is willing to get out of bed and drive twenty minutes to rescue me, with only the aforementioned deserved ribbing in exchange.)

I’d kill for ice cream right now.

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This time, I feel…different. More dubious. I mean, I know I’m going to do it, but part of me is afraid in a way that I wasn’t before. Probably, it’s all the little injuries I’ve had this year, so that the idea that nothing will jump up and bite me if I so much as sneeze too hard is difficult to swallow. And fifty miles is fifty miles. Take your best marathon time, double it, and add two hours: that’s how they tell you to calculate your fifty-miler expected finish time. Ten hours seems like a ridiculously long time to be running, doesn’t it?

Today’s ten-mile long run marked the first time I’ve broken double digits since last month’s marathon. It was fine. Well, it was like running through a swimming pool, by the time I was done (seriously, my shorts were completely saturated and clinging to my legs like a soggy diaper, which is, I assure you, far grosser to experience than to read here), but I felt otherwise fine. Tomorrow, I’m meeting Rachel for a six-mile cross-country run in the morning, and I anticipate that, too, being fine.

Still waiting on my “Raar!” though. If you happen to find it, could you tell it I’m waiting on its return?

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Ah, the faces of the heat wave. The manic, tired eyes and the humidity-wrecked hair…the sweat sheen that never dissipates…the pupils dilated from the sugar rush you get when you try to medicate with ice cream…the brain frazzled from the complaining and whines that inevitably follow said sugar crash…And we’re all snapping at each other for any and no reason. Lovely, right? This was the best of several pictures I tried to snap here before finally giving up and declaring it honest, if not flattering.

School got cancelled today, too. We’re in a nearby hotel, using Rewards Points Eric’s earned from all that travel that I sighed about earlier this year. (I’d say I’ll not sigh again in the future, but who am I kidding? ) It’s a luxury, but probably a necessity, too; Sam started barking with asthma coughs just stepping into the lobby this morning. This air is No Joke for people with breathing issues. Even I had trouble drawing breath during my very brief “run” this morning (which was meant to be in the hotel fitness room on a treadmill, before I found out we didn’t have one), so I have strong sympathy for anybody with involuntarily stressed systems.

Gabe’s having nightmares. Sam’s butting heads with me at every opportunity, and I’m butting back. Eric walked full-force into a door last night. It’s…it’s…

COUNTING BLESSINGS!
1. It’s only a handful of days a year, when you add them up.
2. Pistachio ice cream with almonds.
3. The kids are playing peacefully with cheap plastic army men, and nobody’s arguing!
4. Tomorrow’s a swim workout day, and I’m looking forward to that.
5. Post-sugar crash leading to lethargy now, which feels not unwelcome, all things considered.

Oh, swim workout: forgot to say. My plan for JFK is going to involve Saturday and Sunday long runs (well, long and recovery), sandwiched by cross-training days. Swimming will feature heavily, being so wonderfully non-impact. I’ve been continuing to go for about an hour a couple of times a week, and I think I’m really getting the hang of it now, with the Swimplan.com drills.

Lethargy hitting full-force now. Must lie down.

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I did my run today at 5 AM, hoping to avoid the worst of the day’s heat-advisory-level temps, but I was sticky before I even got out the door. Thank God this is a fall race, so I’m still in the low mileage zone.

This whole basement thing is creating an interesting phenomenon. My elementary school kids are turning into bona fide frat boys down there. They’re hooting and hollering over video games, sprawled out all over the floor (oh, by the way, want to know what’s better than $45 bean bag chairs for which you also have to buy your own “beans” to stuff them yourself? Giant doggy beds. You’re welcome.), completely oblivious to any kind of social mores; last night, unable to fathom cooking, I ordered pizza, and when I went down to check on them later, the scene was so very Animal House that I almost went looking for hidden togas and kegs. Terrifying.

Unrelated, Gabe now says he wants to be a judge when he grows up. This can in no way end boringly.

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And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go barf.

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Now, this has arisen before, only then, it was “K. can’t play with Gabe unless Sam is out there, too.” I get that. She’s about twelve years old, and her parents find it a little uncomfortable for her to be playing alone with a six-year-old, even one who sees himself more as a teenager trapped in a first-grader’s body. (Maybe even especially that kind of kid.) This was different, though; Gabe insisted that the new rule excluded him without caveat, which…what?

So she came to our house when finished with chores, and I went to learn the truth. As she explained, since she doesn’t play with her own sister, Gabe’s age, she’s not to play with Gabe either. That’s a bit muddled in my mind; if I had to guess, I’d say her parents are aggravated that she’s “too cool” to play with her sister, so they’re making a statement about that. But that leaves Gabe…devastated. “All right, then,” I said to her, “but if you guys are playing in our yard, Gabe will be allowed outside. I’m not keeping him in when you come over.” She agreed quickly. Then she and Sam went over to her house.

Gabe was forlorn. It’s not fair that he should be punished in this situation, and I had a hard time coming up with a way to console him. I suggested that we go see if K.’s little sister could play, but he didn’t want to play with her; he wants to play Big Kid games with Big Kids – his friends, as far as he’s concerned. I took him on a bike ride up and down the street, trying to distract him with the novelty of it, but he kept sighing. “What if they’re happy that I’m not with them?” he said. “What if they’re laughing and happier that I’m not there?”

Then they came back to our garage, entranced by the lure of shade, and Gabe decided to lurk on the sidelines. He took out bubbles, trying to attract their attention, but when it didn’t work, he whispered, “Don’t they miss me?”

I want to punch somebody for him.

Cleared to run yesterday by the podiatrist, who said my toes were healing “phenomenally.” I celebrated with a short run, using 2:1 run/walk intervals, and felt great. Then today, trying to come back cautiously, I went swimming instead. Yay, adrenaline.

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Gabe’s kindergarten class staged their “graduation” ceremony yesterday. It was an in-class thing, with no parents, so I have no idea what he did besides get a graduation cap and a diploma…and pick up a brand-new set of anxieties.

“I’m scared,” he mumbled this morning, curled into a corner of the rocking chair. “I’m scared of first grade.” Of course, he still has two days left of kindergarten before this should even be an issue, but never mind that; the cap was placed on his head, so in his mind, he’s on to the next step. “What if I get a mean teacher?”

I had Sam try to tell him about his own first-grade experience, for which he had a perfectly lovely teacher, but it didn’t help much. Gabe is a fretter, not the optimist Sam tends to be, and change – specifically, change that he hasn’t weighed in his own mind and made with deliberation and autonomy – isn’t anything he seeks, as a rule. It took him a fairly long time to adjust to kindergarten, and it seems like that might a recurring theme, not a one-off. Doesn’t help that, having the big brother that Sam didn’t, he’s learned about the concept of “mean teacher” as a reality, not a television show anomaly. Mean teachers exist at his school, and it doesn’t matter that he’s unlikely to get one next year; their confirmed presence is enough to inject uncertainty into his mind.

I sort of wish this could have waited until at least midway through the summer. The last few days of school are supposed to be about celebrating the end of one year, not dreading the next one already. Besides, first grade at this particular school is fun especially for a little ham like Gabe is. Remember this? They work on that musical for a huge chunk of the year, and if I know my second-born, he’ll love it. But he’s building terrors already, which means they’ll be huge and hulking by summer’s end. Wish I could know now which teacher he’ll have; if it’s the sweet one Sam had, we could really console him all vacation long.

Oh, well. We’ll just have to keep him too busy to worry much – although, with that child, that’s a tall order. In any case, both kids are signed up for summer classes (Gabe is taking a pottery class, which his friend Nathan is also taking, and Sam is in a science one where they’ll do crazy experiments to solve problems), and then they’ll be in the playground programs as well. (Sam wasn’t wild about how he’s aged into the program devoted solely to sports, instead of the mix of sports and crafts the younger kids do, but there’s nothing I can do about that part.) We changed our gym membership from the barebones gym we’ve been using over to the YMCA, and the kids will continue their swimming lessons and be able to do other activities there, as well. It’ll be a fun summer…if Gabe can get his mind off his troubles.

Oh, and if I can get back on the road running. Okay, four days of no running, and the novelty has officially worn off. Maybe it has to do with how this week’s oppressive heat broke last night, and now it’s perfect running weather out there, and I’m still benched, but…ugh. My toes are healing nicely, with very little pain, but I’d almost welcome a little (a very little, mind) discomfort if it helped to console me about not lacing up just yet. I feel fine! Waaah!

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Sitting here in the land of the nailless. When I went in to the podiatrist on Monday, he shook his head and said, “So close.” The nails did indeed decide to dive into the ends and sides of the toes, which meant, er, ejection from the game. I will say that if you’re going to have nails removed, a podiatrist is definitely the way to do it, especially one who takes you seriously if you happen to say, “Look, I go through anesthetic like it’s dime-store chewing gum. Gimme all you got.” He mixed up a couple different kinds of anesthetic, shot me up with them, and I didn’t even notice he’d removed the first one until he asked me if I wanted to see it. (No. No, I didn’t.)

He also gave me an Rx for some “accelerated healing gel,” which was a little tricky to lay hands on, but which works…in the most disgusting manner I’ve ever seen, but effective. It’s this stuff that, well, looks like this:

You break off a piece (sort of like flimsy, thin clay) and put it over the wound, and as it absorbs the nastiness coming from the (in my case) acid-scorched nail root, it turns clear. And (as was not foretold to me) turns sort of gelatinous, conveniently showing everything it has absorbed. I really don’t think there’s a word in English to quite encompass the squick factor, here.

So I’m off from running for two weeks, until he sees me again, but in the meantime, I can do “all the cross-training [I] want.” Since he knows me pretty well at this point, I’m trusting that he knows what that means for me. I walked six miles yesterday, and I’m going to walk more today, along with possibly a bike ride. My legs are still pretty stiff since the race, which I know wouldn’t be the case if I was able to run and loosen them up, so I’ve got to try other means of working out the kinks.

Three more days of school, and then the beasts are freed from their cages for a few months.

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When my alarm went off, I laughed at the silliness of the dream, and I felt calm about the real race. Put on my gear, had some toast and coffee with Kelly, and felt completely at ease with what we were going to do. Mind, I didn’t particularly enjoy the fact that at 5 in the morning, it was already in the upper 60s, with every sign of getting warmer by the minute, but you can only control what you can control. The heat was out of my hands.

I guess pink was the order of the day.

Sean drove us to the start, and we found our way to the crowded corral. I quickly found the four-hour pace group, and I was encouraged by the fact that everybody seemed very friendly, and the leaders seemed capable. One guy in the group led us in some sort of “Penguin Dance” warm-up, which was very silly and got our laughs going.

Then the gun went off, and we started running. We all chatted as we went, and I called out to a fellow running in shorts printed in the Maryland state flag. I don’t know his name, but I called him “Terrapin” for conveniency. “Hey, Terrapin! Where you from?” He was from the southern part of the state, but was happy to meet another Marylander. The chat kept us going through the first few miles, before things started to get tougher. The heat kept creeping up, and the slight rolling nature of going over bridge after bridge was making me wonder…

…and then we got to what was to be the first major climb, around the 7-mile mark, and it became crystal clear to me that there was no way on earth I was hanging with the four-hour pack. My training had been too cautious; in trying to prevent another injury, I hadn’t done much hill work, and Minneapolis is decidedly hillier than Racine. The group took off, and I let them go. Just over the 10K mark in a full marathon is no place to try heroics. (Far later in the race, after a turnaround, I saw that “Terrapin” had fallen back, too, and was well behind me. I hope he did well enough in the end!)

I noticed, around mile 9, that I was playing “leapfrog” with a woman in a black tank; she’d pass me on the run, and then I’d pass her when she took brief walk breaks. By mile 11, I ran up to her and asked her if she minded company. That turned out to be an excellent decision. Julie and I stayed together for the rest of the race, each going through ups and downs, but somehow managing to time our “ups” with the other’s “downs.” We took turns with the “You might have to drop me” and the rebuttal “No way!” I had nausea; she had a sore knee. It all worked out in the end.

Speaking of nausea, it was bad. I got very dehydrated in the heat, despite draining my entire 64-ounce water bladder and taking a cup or two of Powerade from almost every aid station. I hadn’t had time to train with salt back here, so I attempted to try the Margarita-flavored Shot Blox with extra sodium; that turned out to be a mistake, as they made me feel like I would throw up, so I switched back to my regular Shot Blox (Black Cherry) halfway through. My fingers were like sausages, barely able to bend, and at one point, I began getting goosebumps and chills, which frightened me a bit. Thank goodness for the aid stations with sprinklers, too!

The steepest hill, coming out of Fort Snelling, had been decorated with chalked warnings: “THIS HILL SUCKS!”, followed by “WE TOLD YOU IT SUCKED!” and “STILL GOING UP!” As we were power-walking at this point, it was much funnier than it would have been if I was trying to keep up with the pace group and running. Honestly, I didn’t see anybody running at that point. But Fort Snelling was the best part of the course for me, aside from that. When we left the pavement to run on dirt, I almost immediately felt spring reenter my step, and my nausea all but vanished. Wish that could have made up more of the course!

The end was tough, as I was flagging, and of course, the race ended on a big uphill. I wish I could have felt stronger at that point, but my quads were cramping painfully and I was exhausted. We finished in 4:30:44, which is my worst marathon time yet, but all in all, it could have been much worse, and you know what? There were such positive parts (the beauty of the course, meeting Julie) that it’s hard to feel bad about the negative ones. Kelly was at the end, having finished her first half-marathon well under the time she’d hoped for, and she and Mel, the friend I met the night before, cheered me in. (Mel and Sean now say they’re doing the half next year!) We had our photos taken, then Julie and I said goodbye, and we headed for home.

Kelly and I had Indian for lunch, and then I said farewell as she dropped me off at the airport – part three of “The Weekend of Impossible Things.” But this flight was even more smooth than the one out, and the merciful gate agent moved me up to a bulkhead seat so I’d be able to move my legs more freely and alleviate some of the soreness. (The soreness, incidentally, is exquisite; my quads have not forgiven me yet for the hills.) I have no good reason to complain at all, so I won’t.

Anyway, on to other things! The toenails did start to get a bit ouchy during the race, and last night they began stinging; I don’t think there’s any hope I’ll be keeping them beyond the podiatrist appointment later this afternoon, which means they’re gone for good. Good riddance, and don’t come back. So that’ll be interesting, right?

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I began calling it “The Weekend of Impossible Things” in my head, what with the flights and the race, but honestly, the flights probably couldn’t have gone any more smoothly. Eric dropped me off early at the airport on Friday mid-afternoon, and I drank a cup of coffee until it was time to board; the plane was a little late arriving, but they got us on as quickly as possible when it did, so I got to Minneapolis almost when I was supposed to. It was much warmer there than it had been in Wisconsin, which gave me some sense of foreboding, but what can you do?

Kelly and Sean picked me up, and we went for dinner at a sweet little Thai place, where I had a delicious curry; then we went home and I got to meet their adorable puppy, Jetta. Make no mistakes, Jetta is a Good Girl.

Got to take lots of walks with her over the course of the weekend, and she’s really taking to training very smoothly!

Next morning, a friend of Kelly’s came in with her mom, and they, Kelly, and I hit the Minneapolis Farmer’s Market. Oh, but before that, I got up and did a quick 3.5-mile shake-out-the-legs run around gorgeous Lake Harriet, which was only a couple of blocks from their house. Talk about convenient…and talk about busy! The paths around the lack were positively packed with runners, walkers, and cyclists. I was amazed at the number of active people out there! And Kelly and Sean told me that every lake is at least that busy on a regular basis! Most impressive! The Farmer’s Market, huge and bustling, reaffirmed the idea in my head that Minneapolis is powerfully focused on health. Wonderful!

After Kelly’s friend left, she and I went to packet pickup, which was quite well-organized and very “green” – no bag full of coupons and junk that would probably go to waste. Got my chip, bib, shirt, and hat, and then we browsed. I knew my New Balances were going to be officially retired after the race, and I scanned the sale shoes available…but then made a last-minute switch.

Baaaaaaa. Let’s jump on the bandwagon, shall we? But I’ve got assurances that should these Newtons not work out for me, I can deal with a local shoe store and head back to my motion-control clompers. Also got a copy of Danny Abshire’s book, all autographed. Neat.

Went home and showed off our stuff to Sean, his dad, and another good friend, Mel. Sean and his dad worked on various house-related projects, and then dinner preparation got underway; meanwhile, after having listened to me bemoan the state of my own house, Sean’s dad actually sat down and helped me sketch out some plans for fixing things around here! I could actually begin to feel optimistic, almost!

Shared a lovely meal of grilled veggies and some lentil soup, then retired early, a bundle of nerves…which somehow evaporated overnight. When I woke up the next morning, I was feeling bizarrely relaxed, not at all afraid of what was to come…

To Be Continued…

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Eep. I’m cleaning my living room in a frenzy (why do we have so many Legos? Where are they all coming from?!) because I can’t tolerate sitting still. Ack.

The weekend’s saving grace: Kelly! Hurray for hosts who are also running, and who have the impeccable manners not to be blissfully on the other end of the confidence spectrum over their own race. On the other hand, she says she does well running in heat, a talent I lack, so we’ll just see. (I keep trying to remind myself that Devil’s Lake was in the 80s and for a lot longer and harder running, but somehow, that memory isn’t comforting me much…

I also screwed up with my shoe rotation this training cycle, doing more runs in one pair than the other, and I just noticed that I’ve got over 400 miles on these New Balances in which I plan to race. Now, I haven’t noticed any problems from them yet, but I’d rather not have had that knowledge in my head at this point, I believe. Fret, fret, fret.

Somebody tell me something cheerful and fluffy?

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So Rachel dropped by my place at 5:30, and we ran for a lovely hour, chatting and enjoying the morning; the rain never materialized, and my legs felt great. I was feeling really optimistic as I got home, grabbed my things, and piled into the car…and then, about fifteen minutes down the road, I realized I’d forgotten my gel for the race. Now, I didn’t panic too much. I had eaten a couple of prunes before running with Rachel (no time to eat anything substantial and have it do anything but sit like a brick in my belly), and I was eating a Clif bar in the car, so I though that I’d be okay for now, and surely there’d be aid stations with fuel along the course. (Dun-dun-dunnnnnnn… [huzzah, foreshadowing!])

Got there, and no rain appeared! I strapped on my race belt, wandered to the start, and chatted with some folks while waiting for the bathrooms (ooh, posh: hotel restrooms right by the starting line!). Then, right on time, we were off. Almost immediately, the people running the Euro Cross-Country route split off from us half and full marathoners, which was a bit confusing, since the guy directing us was speaking realllllly sloooooowly as we approached, and I was nearly on top of him before I knew which direction to go. The answer: up the hill. And for the next eight miles, that was to be the only answer. Up, up, up.

After about five miles, I was beginning to really regret the extra miles I’d done before the race. My hips and hamstrings, especially were unhappy. And perhaps the Euro runners were getting good scenery (they kept meeting back up with us, only to duck down between shadows into what looked like people’s driveways…), but what we got was cattle farms of the more pungent variety. Phew! But we did see one calf frolicking at us as we passed, which was precious and lifted my spirits a bit.

Eight or nine miles in, my hip decided to lock up a bit. Ran through it, and it went away. I was getting a bit annoyed, too, by how the mile markers were placed quite wrongly, and my assumption about the race course fuel had been wrong as well. No fuel. No gels. I did the race on Gatorade alone, which…well, it left me feeling quite bad by that ninth mile on. I wanted to stop, but that wasn’t an option. For one, I’ve never yet DNFed a race, and for another, this was a point-to-point course, and I needed to make it to the end to reach the shuttle back home. I kept running. At least it was flat at this point.

Around mile 12, there were two punishing downhills. My hips and hamstrings got joined by my quads and shins in the chorus of complaint. Everything below my waist felt like lead. Good times.

I finally reached the finish line at 1:57:42, which put me 5/11 in my age group and 95/259 overall. Grabbed my medal, grabbed my water, ran for the boat the finish line volunteer told me was the shuttle back, waited around a bit until it became clear that they were wrong, then hobbled to the bus that was the correct shuttle. I made it back home about 15 minutes before Eric got picked up for the airport, thank goodness.

Ow.

Mother’s Day, on the other hand, was as restful as it could be, considering my husband is in another country. I got bath salts from Gabe, and both boys gave me potted plants they assembled at church. We ate out at a nice vegetarian restaurant, then had gelato afterward. Nothing fancy, which was as my legs would have it. Oh, but I do wonder if I’ll ever be able to make it through a Mother’s Day sermon at church without tearing up when the kids come in to hand out little flowers or candies to all the moms…

Denny’s: not the vegetarian restaurant.

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(Watch: it’ll pour cats and dogs on June 5th, the day of Minneapolis.)

Wet doesn’t bother me much, but really, the whole point of picking Lake Geneva was to have a pretty race. I’d sort of like to be able to enjoy the scenery, you know? Anyway, it’s still fifty-fifty for showers, so the whole thing is all up in the air figuratively as well as literally.

After the race, I’m supposed to go to a Kentucky Derby party. Tomorrow, I’m heading to some thrift stores to find the base for what will hopefully become a lovely race-day chapeau. Of course, as always, I’m likely overestimating my crafting ability, and what appears in my mind’s eye as a tasteful accessory is probably going to look like a kindergarten craft project. A for ambition; (projected) D for execution. Keep fingers crossed that I at least manage to avoid hot gluing the brim to the coffee table. (I doubt my neck could support dangling furniture.) Gonna have me a mint julep, though, and that’ll take the edge off any fashion faux-pas I’ve made.

Yep, Saturday’s going to be fun. It better be, because it kicks off a two-week stretch without Eric again.

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I have to do all my runs before dawn for a week, before Eric goes to work. Whine-whine-whine…

And tomorrow, that means having to do six miles in wind and rain and dark, and there’s no escaping it this time. But it’ll be nice and dry, though dark, for my long run this week. There’s that, anyway.

Sam came home from school with testosterone poisoning again. He’s got this sporadic attitude that I didn’t anticipate appearing for another few years, where everything anybody says to him is obviously the most idiotic thing ever spoken aloud by another human, or else it’s a horrid insult against his own intelligence (“I KNOW I have homework! You DON’T have to SAY it! MAAAAAAAAAN!”). It’s fun. Seems to appear most often right after school, which leads me to believe he’s mainly have trouble code-shifting when he goes from playground to my house, where we Will Not Be Having That. (But it also doesn’t help that Gabe’s forté is, often, insulting his brother’s intelligence…)

I need to get into the whole Spring Break attitude, I know, but it’s hard when Wisconsin is still firmly of a mind to stick with winter for a little while longer, at least.

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Eric’s home today. It started as a “Man Cold,” but now he’s running a fever and has chills, and his throat is killing him. He’s heading to the doctor here in a bit; they think it might be strep. (So help me, if either the kids or I get it…) Hope he gets better quickly; illnesses tend to linger with him, considering his other, chronic illnesses and the sleep apnea machine that likes to blow congestion into his sinuses.

It’s weird, having this snow and grey weather outside, and illnesses inside, after yesterday’s prettiness. Sam played outside with a friend, and I took Gabe (ostracized by the older kids after an argument) on a long, pleasant walk to a friend’s house. The reason for the visit wasn’t so pleasant; her adult son passed away this week, and I assisted with the funeral just before, so this was the mourners’ gathering. But the spirits were strong, and everybody was drawing comfort from the group. Gabe was very polite, talking with her about her dogs. Easier to think about that than other things, for all involved.

Anyway. This is the last week before Spring Break, for which we’re not doing much; Eric has a business trip, just for a day, in the middle of the week, which precludes any larger plans. Low-key is good, though. I’m learning to appreciate that as I get older.

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The long version: I had originally planned to do a three mile warm-up, then the race, then three more miles to accumulate my planned nine miles for the day. After fretting and worrying, though, I changed my mind and decided to do the whole six miles with running club before the race. I knew I’d be a little tired after that, but I figured I’d also feel mentally better for having done it, and it would eliminate a little of the time coordination. Running club’s route was right next to the race course that morning, so it was simple on that end. I ran those six miles with a new friend, casually and easily, which left me with some pep in my legs.

I went and registered for the race after that – nothing like the last minute! – and ran into another newer member of our running group. Nate and I hung around, waiting for the start; it was grey, windy, and damp out, with a chill that had us all shivering with chattery teeth. Greeted a few other folks, including a man from our church, whose son, Eli, just a year older than Sam, was running the race and expecting to do extremely well. The boy was perched right at the starting line, raring to go.

Nate and I headed off at the gun, doing a quick pace and feeling okay. About a mile into it, though, I found us passing Eli, who was visibly struggling. He had a hand clamped to his sides and his face was grimaced. I immediately fell back beside him, checking if he was okay and getting him breathing more slowly. Once he was more settled, I hung with him, encouraging him to keep going; a boy just ahead of us looked to be in his age group, and I muttered, “See that kid? He keeps looking back at you, scared. You got him!” And around mile two, we finally passed him.

By the final curve, just before the finish, Eli said, “When we turn, I’m going to go as fast as I can.” “You better!” I said, and when he kicked, I hollered after him, grinning. It felt awesome to see him fly over the finish. I was thrilled later to find that he’d finished second in his age group – that was more satisfying than learning my own place. (Nate, who had gone on ahead when I dropped back by Eli, came in fourth in his age group.) I crossed in 25:20 Garmin time (I forget the gun time; the results aren’t posted online yet, either).

And my legs felt just fine. Worries? What worries?

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I also managed, through total fluke, to bring along a book I was idly rereading…having completely forgotten that I’d promised to loan it to the friend I sat with for the meeting. She was all, “Are you reading that again?” and it still took me about fifteen minutes to put two and two together and remember I’d said I’d give it to her. Precious. I swear, the hair is naturally red, not blonde…

Yum, soup.

I’m theoretically racing tomorrow. Ask me if I’ve registered. Part of this brain still thinks that the moment I plunk down the money to run, my leg will immediately implode. Gotta love paranoia, don’t you? I’m also aggravated that new travel has made it back onto Eric’s work schedule, and it’s trying to mess with both the half-marathon I wanted to run in early May and the marathon I planned for June. Not completely, mind you, just nibbling at the edges, coming too close for comfort. Can I make it back from the race in time for Eric to catch his flight, you know? (He says it’ll be fine; I say that it’s not what I wanted to be worrying over as I run…)

Of secondary concern to me is that he’ll be out of the country for Mother’s Day. That’s secondary mostly because we can still celebrate another day, but it’ll be a bummer to wrangle the kids by my lonesome if I try to brave a Mother’s Day brunch. Not a huge issue, though. The biggest issue, beyond races and brunches, is my husband is going away again. At least it’s Germany this time; I won’t be nearly as terrified for his safety. (Note: this is not the cue to start telling me about bizarre violent crime sprees that might be currently happening in Deutschland. Seriously.)

Anyway, might go run in the rain now. Gently – not out of fear, though, of course! No, it’s just…taper! Yeah, taper! For a 5K…

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So I didn’t get many people this year. Apparently, it was more believable that I’d get a “GOT MILK?” tattoo or sign up for a stage race across the Sahara than that I’d edit books about boobs.

On the other hand…it turns out that some relatives read now that didn’t read then, and they’re not “onto me.” For posterity: April Fools Day is one of my most favorite holidays. I adore it, and I always do my best to participate in silly ways. I won’t do “mean” pranks; absurd is more my style. If something I write sends your eyebrows into orbit or seems 100% out of character for me…check the calendar.

By the way, Mom was totally in on it. Asking before involving someone else is just courtesy,  y’know?

Anyway, looks like I gotta step up my game for next year! But I swear, one of these years, the joke will be that it’s not a joke…

Ran twelve this morning. Building back up to my pre-injury levels is hard some days; those last couple of miles were much slower than the others. Getting there, though!

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(Unrelated to anything, I woke up this morning with a wretched cramp in my calf that won’t go away. It’s demanding attention right now, pulsing at me. Argh.)

Anyway, it’ll be a quiet weekend here, though Gabe’s now lobbying hard for fun activities to mollify his disappointment. I’m down for some fun, but, sorry, kid, we are not checking into a waterpark hotel for kicks. After hearing the screams at your last swimming lesson (honestly, are you ever going to stop that?), I don’t know why you’d want to go to a water-themed place, anyway. By the way, it’s water in the pool, not acid-laced quicksand; I promise that if you stand up at the shallow end of the pool, you will be able to breathe and not “DIEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Eric gets back Saturday afternoon; I’ll be able to do my long run, but not early with the running club. This past week was a step-back week, and this week I’m back up to a whole (gasp!) nine miles. I’m doing it right, careful and cautious as can be, but a little part of me is so frustrated at the slow increases. Then again, another small part of me is, well, afraid. This year has been one injury after another, and I can’t help but worry that every time I add on an extra mile or two, I’m risking yet another malady. I haven’t signed up for any races yet, even the 5K in a few weeks that I know I’m in fine shape to do. Just can’t wrap my mind around it; something could still Go Wrong. I know it’s not rational; like I said, the rational part of my brain is being patient and calm in the face of the slow-but-steady build-up. Those two little warring factions in the corners of my mind, though, can get pretty noisy.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day. Here’s a question: Lent is considered to be forty days, as Sundays are considered by the church to be “feast days.” But St. Patrick’s Day is also considered a feast day by the church, so why isn’t Lent considered 39 days? Just occurred to me this morning. Then again, I wasn’t raised in a liturgical church, so maybe this is a “duh” question that gets explained easily during confirmation or something.

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Sam is feeling a bit better, though he’s still coughing quite a bit, and when I sent him upstairs a while ago to rest, he actually went, and he was asleep in his bed when I looked in (having expected to find him on the computer playing Roblox or Wizard 101). Gabe seems better, too. He has a sore throat, but after an initial period of high drama concerning that, he’s just about completely returned to normal. Also, yesterday’s “full clean out” ended highly anticlimactically. Sparing you the details (you’re welcome), I heard him go into the bathroom this morning, where he loudly muttered, “Daaaaang!” in an impressed tone, and that was that.

Here’s to the coming week being just as anticlimactic as that. Things always seem to go wrong when Eric’s out of town, but we’ve had enough badness already. Met my quota, thanks.

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Gabe came home from school yesterday sobbing that his head hurt and he wanted to throw up. (That’s the good thing about Gabe; you don’t usually have to guess about when he’s sick.) He was burning up, so I gave him some fever reducers. Coincidentally, I just happened to be on the phone with the intake scheduler for his endoscopy, which we were in the process of setting up for this morning. Their criteria is that the patient can’t have a fever over 101 within twelve hours of the procedure, so we banked on his illness following Sam’s route and canceled for now.

Of course, he woke up this morning feeling mostly fine. It’s possible he’s running a low-grade fever; the thermometer said he was okay, but he felt slightly warm to me and I don’t trust these digital thermometer readings very much. The bigger thing was that he was chatty, perky, and insistent that he was going to school to have fun. So he did, but I’m keeping close to the phone.

It seems like these kids are getting sick far more often this year, and I wonder whether it’s that they’re both at the same school now? At least when they were at two different places, my chances were better that only one would be exposed to whatever plague was sweeping the playground.

Speaking of illnesses, though on a far distant stage, I found out this week that a friend of mine, who attended my church and was a member of the local mothers’ club with me…I found out that her husband was diagnosed with ALS last year.

I can’t even imagine the storm that sweeps through a family in a situation such as this. They have two young children, and the life expectancy for her husband is now around two to five heartbreaking years. The thought of what they’ll all be facing is unfathomable.

I have no idea how many people read this blog; a while back, it just stopped being important to me to know. I know there are at least a few, though, and it would be a great gift if we could all help Kristin and Todd out with what they’re trying to do at this point. There’s a contest – just a “click and vote” thing – where they have the chance to win the funds to be able to build a handicapped-accessible house. With so much else that they’ll need to handle, this seems like a concrete way to help take a little of the load off their backs.

If you’re on Facebook, just click through here and cast a vote for them. It would mean a great deal.

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The scene: this morning, on the phone with our doctor’s office, trying to fix the situation.
The complication: the referral specialist can’t even find Gabe in the computer system, despite him being a regular patient. She’s obviously frustrated, and she takes out her frustration on me by becoming increasingly snappy and rude, hanging up on me before I can even thank her or say goodbye.
FUN LEVEL RATING: 3/10

The scene: driving to the gastro.
The complication: an ice storm hit last night, and everything is coated in a moderately thick layer of ice. The van’s side door wouldn’t even open, so Gabe had to climb in the driver’s door. Roads are awful, Gabe is making funny noises that might be related to motion sickness, and the van begins to make a strange, jack-hammery noise whenever I get to a certain speed. (In hindsight, I think it was from the corner of the bumper, which got torn away from repeated impacts with snow boulders after the last blizzard.) Couldn’t find the office; called on my cell and was told they were not in the building I thought they were. Circled around again and again; called back, got another receptionist, and learned that they were in that building. Drifted into the parking lot on gas fumes.
FUN LEVEL RATING: 7/10

The scene: the exam.
The complication: my son is a monkey on crack, refusing to cooperate or be quiet so I can hear the doctor talk. She’s suggesting procedure after procedure, and he’s hopping on the colored tiles on the floor, yelling, “IT’S LAVA, AND I CAN’T STEP ON LAVA!”
FUN LEVEL RATING: 3/10

The scene: gas station, on our way to radiologist and lab for tests
The complication: everything is covered in ice, including the pump and the card reader. It’s a pre-pay pump, too, so then I have to go inside, taking Gabe along so he can beg for every form of candy or beef jerky at eye level.
FUN LEVEL: 2/10

The scene: the lab.
The complication: Gabe realizes where we are and what’s about to happen. The lab tech sits in front of an impressively scary array of syringes and vials while doing the paperwork, allowing Gabe enough time to FREAK THE HECK OUT, run away down a corridor, and shout dire threats back at us should he be forced to comply with a blood draw. “I’m not even sick! I feel just fine! Sam should be here – make HIM get a blood test! I’m not doing it, and you can’t make me! I’ll beat you up!” In the end, it takes me (legs wrapped around his, one arm around his chest and unused arm, the other arm holding his head immobile) and two lab techs to get the blood, while he writhes, foams at the mouth, and screams loudly enough to thoroughly terrify the three children waiting their turns in the next room. He also manages to give me two bloody gouges in the back of my hand and some impressive bruises on my shins (before his boots went flying). We only manage one and a half vials before the lab tech completely freaks out and gives up, and then Gabe scrambles, Gollum-style, to a far corner, where he hunches in a ball and shrieks about how much he hates me. The techs wring their hands, looking close to tears (both very young women, probably second-guessing any plans they had for motherhood any time soon), and suggest sedation for future draws.
FUN LEVEL: 10/10

The scene: the radiologist.
The complication: Gabe’s still holding a grudge over the blood draw. Instead of sitting in the waiting room, he chooses to hide in the curtained prep room, muttering things I’m actually glad I can’t hear. A cheerful radiologist sees him and is startled, but luckily he finds it funny rather than alarming.
FUN LEVEL: 1/10

The scene: back home.
The complication: I’ve dropped Gabe off back at school, where I signed him in and walked him to class. Went to the gym, ran on a treadmill (sweat stinging my bloody gouges), then came home…to an answering machine message from the school, asking where Gabe is. Luckily, she had just missed my signing him in; when they checked, he was safely accounted for.
FUN LEVEL: 2/10

SHAVE AND A HAIRCUT: Eric’s in Mexico again. Twooooo biiiiiiiiiits!

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Had I not been injured (again and again…), I’d be seven weeks into a marathon training plan right now. As it stands, I’m just easing into the end of my first week back running, period – not even to the starting point of a plan. I did try to fiddle around with existing plans and other races – full marathons, half-marathons, etc. – trying to find something that would work, but the amount of tweaking necessary for making anything work was aggravating me a lot. In the end, this afternoon, I threw up my hands, hauled out my tiny planner (bought for this purpose, only several plans ago), and began doing the math. Start with this week; counting the gentle hour I plan to go tomorrow, I’ll have about sixteen miles for the week. Increase by no more than ten percent…do it again…do it again…

I know how it works. Every couple of weeks, you want to incorporate a “fall-back” week, with long runs slowly increasing in a jagged pattern: two steps forward, one back. I could be more bold – many are – but with these injuries behind me, I feel as though now is not the time to flout the common wisdom. And so my calendar fills up with numbers, cautious ones, that will lead me up to the distances I want. By early May, I’ll be hitting twenty mile long runs; if I feel comfortable with a two-week taper (though the decision would probably need to be made before that point), I could even be ready for a marathon, say, June 5th. (Hey, Kelly, I’m looking at you. ) It’s a thought, anyway. I’m also looking at doing either the Lake Geneva or the Wisconsin half-marathon on May 7th, and the Run to Spring 5K that my friend Carl has been trying to get me to do for the past couple of years. (That one actually has childcare! If Eric’s up for it, I might try to do that one with him. )

A part of me gets nervous now, planning again after seeing plans go up in smoke and pain lately. But…if I don’t plan, if I assume that anything written down will somehow “jinx” me, I’m making the assumption that my body will let me down again. That’s not the way I want to live. To write down these numbers is to make the statement, the promise to myself in a tangible way, that the game is back on. And it is.

Yesterday was a bad day; I woke up sick with a wretched head cold that had me dizzy and exhausted. (I almost never get sick when I’m running a decent amount, but slack off for whatever reason, and I get sick every other week, it seems.) What with the stuff going on in Madison and the teachers protesting, the boys were home from school, so I had no good way to rest and heal up. Thank God, my sympathetic husband took the afternoon off, so I could lie down for a bit and recover.

Hate being sick.

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The bad: assuming that I will exercise that sort of caution, there’s probably no way I can safely do a marathon this spring. I’ve been sitting here crunching numbers for various scenarios and races, and every situation that would have me doing a full 26.2 would require a quicker mileage buildup than I think would be prudent. If I were to throw caution to the wind, cross my fingers and try, it could mean risking injuries that would have me sidelined far longer than I have been already, and…it’s probably wisest to say, “Okay, I give,” and either back down to a target half-marathon or simply wait for the fall races that I’m anticipating more eagerly, anyway.

You’ll understand if my current disappointment is preventing me from embracing that reality fully or even considering which half-marathon I’d want to do. (It’d have to be one heck of a half to cheer me up, I think.) I thought I’d be more stoic about it, really; going into each of these injuries, I kept this possibility in mind, but now that it’s the result, it seems as though I never accepted it after all.

But I’m running – even if three miles isn’t nearly enough to make my brain feel good again. I’ll get there. I know I will.

“Training is principally an act of faith.”

– Franz Stamfl, Austrian-born running coach

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But I think it is getting better. I didn’t feel any twinging yesterday, and I began doing some gentle stretching, which is supposed to be the next step. We’ll see; I’ll try a gentle test run tomorrow, and if there’s no pain, I will not push things. Not that I think I did last time, but you just don’t know. Ugh. I also intend, no matter how much I hate it, to stick to the treadmill until I’ve eased my way back into regular running, so as to avoid the icy spots that might have encourage the groin pull in the first place. Yuck.

But I don’t want to have another bad day, so I’m combating it with my usually successful strategy of Getting Stuff Done. I signed both boys up for swimming lessons at the Y, starting in a couple of weeks. See, Sam’s Scouts den is going to be working on an Aquatics belt loop, and the den leader blithely suggested that the boys “brush up” on swimming skills before that. Sam’s skills = nonexistent, beyond splashing around in chest-deep water. Feeling like a rotten, neglectful parent, I found the class that actually would accommodate both boys’ abilities and signed them up. This will be interesting; Sam looked horrified until I told him Gabe would be in his class (at which point, for some reason, he began cackling and dry-washing his hands, and I choose not to dwell on the meaning behind that), and Gabe…well, Gabe just looked horrified. This is the kid who only in recent history was willing to wade into water up to his knees. Lord, have mercy on this teacher. (I did warn them while registering. Can’t say I didn’t.)

Also did some tweaking to Sam’s website this morning, fixing an issue with log-in. (Thank you, Andrea!) He’s having a “blog revival,” coinciding with his telling his school friends about it and seeing their interest piqued. Of course, he also inadvertently led them to believe that he could actually code games, instead of just making a link list of his favorite online games, so we had to settle that situation immediately. (“No, Sam, I can’t just help you make a game with helicopters and lots of guns, no matter what you told Tony.”)

Very much looking forward to Valentine’s Day. Remember last year? Eric’s already working up his Super Secret menu plan for Monday night, and the folks to whom he’s told those plans have expressed deep envy. Also like last year, we plan to bribe the boys to go to bed early, so it can be a grown-up meal in luxurious peace. (No holds barred on that bribe. It’s WORTH IT.)

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Well, it turns out that the podiatrist to whom my doctor unwittingly had referred me was a member of my church, and a runner, to boot. He was very much on the same page as I am, regarding getting me running as soon as possible, and he thinks the nails don’t have to come off. He used what looked suspiciously like a Dremel tool on them, and then he gave me an ointment. Also, he said that in four weeks, I should not make an appointment, but should instead grab him at church to see how they’re doing. I, in turn, listened to him talk about how he really wants to do his first full marathon, and I encouraged him to come out to join our running club. All in all, it was an awesome appointment.

Lots of other things getting done this week. I decided it had been too long since I had my running gait checked, and on the off-chance that my shoes are contributing to my string of woes, I went to the running store yesterday to be filmed on a treadmill. The girl decided I actually did need more stability than what my shoes are giving me, so I left with some New Balance 1226s in hand; I’ll alternate them with my current Sauconys (using the Sauconys for shorter, easier runs, since they’re lighter, and the NBs for long runs).

Car check-ups. Boy check-ups. Everybody’s getting examined around here lately, with no exceptions. Sometimes, when things are going off-kilter, it’s time to stop and reassess everything. So far, I’m still waiting for big payoffs, but I do feel as though baby steps are being made, and it’ll all come right in the end.

And with that in mind, as I finally get to what’s really on my heart right now, toss prayers my dad’s way today; he’s got some skin cancer on his nose, and he’s having surgery for that today. Faith, optimism, and calm – that’s what we’re all about right now.

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But after they stayed the night, enjoyed a lazy Saturday morning and then left, things deteriorated. I mean, they always deteriorate when loved ones have to leave, but…her baby didn’t want to go, and when Gabe tried to encourage him (and I do mean encourage! He wasn’t explosive then), the baby got mad and screamed at Gabe. As they were pulling out of the driveway, we turned and found Gabe sobbing his heart out, thinking he’d hurt the baby. Sam, meanwhile, had fled the emotional scene to nurse his sadness in private.

I had to throw Gabe into the car for a birthday party, around which neighborhood I planned to go for a run until pick-up time. And all was going well; my foot seems fine. (Interestingly, when I went to the multi-sport expo, a physical therapist pointed out that my foot looked fine, but my tibialis anterior muscle (the one along the outside of the shin bone) was very tight and a little swollen. He rubbed it, and bingo, pain in my foot. So…I’d been icing the wrong spot. ) Unfortunately, about 7 miles into the run, my groin, which had been a little achy, suddenly began to hurt. I stopped immediately, and now I’m really, really freaked and angry and agitated and sad. Things I’ve read have said that running on slippery surfaces can encourage you to tighten those muscles and lead to a groin pull, which would make perfect sense, but I just don’t want to deal with this.

Super Bowl today. There’s a party to which we were invited, but the kids weren’t, and…a sitter for Super Bowl Sunday? In Wisconsin? When the Packers are in the game? Yeah, sure. About as likely, it seems, as me getting a worry-free run in.

(Oh, and bonus misery: last night, just before bed, Gabe plummeted off the computer chair, whacking his face into the floor. Cue massive blood and hysteria. He seems fine now, but his teeth are a little sore. I, meanwhile, demonstrated my parental skills by almost fainting. Mom of the Year, that’s me.)

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My foot is improving. Interestingly, I think I’ve discovered one thing that aggravates it quite a lot: sitting in chairs. I mean, like our computer chair, and for too long. If I’m on a couch, or if I have my foot up, it’s fine, but the desk chair has it aching pretty quickly. Okay, got to remember that! Ran today in the blowing snow, which was beautiful and fun and silly. I looked like a snowman when I finished.

Then I sold popcorn at the kids’ school for four hours. Less fun and silly. (Bag, staple, load into boxes, repeat, repeat, repeat.) The look on Gabe’s face when he saw me made it worth it, though.

Busy weekend coming up, with the Pinewood Derby, an anniversary party for the boy’s old preschool, and a multisport expo that I try to attend every year. Eric has tomorrow off, though, so we’re going to try to go here for lunch. I’m looking forward to that!

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Thankfully, I was able to get in touch with Eric after that, and he was able to come home to help me with Sam; I was in no condition to help him make his dashes to the bathroom. I went back to being comatose, and Eric dealt with Sam (and Gabe, when he arrived home from school). Sam, besides the periods of nausea, felt fine, but that was a mixed blessing; he wanted actual food, and it wouldn’t stay down.

Bedtime was the fireworks show, though. I had gone up to bed so I wouldn’t have to smell the guys’ pizza dinner, which had made me feel worse, so I was upstairs when I heard Eric putting the boys into their bunkbeds. Sam, mind you, is on the top bunk. (You can see this coming, can’t you?) All was going smoothly, and Eric had just tucked them in and turned off the light when Sam called an ominous, “Da-aaaaad…”

“What?”

And then there was a horrible noise, which I’ll forbear to describe, and Gabe began screaming his head off, and madness ensued. I got Gabe into my bed, where he howled and shook and wrung his hands, alternating between supreme outrage and gut-wrenching guilt – “IT’S ALL MY FAULT!” – for having brought the virus into the house. Sam was most unhappy, as you might imagine, and Eric was making noises that spoke to barely-repressed stomach urges of his own. It was exciting.

So, Sam’s home from school today, though he seems to be a little better, and I’m feeling a bit better as well. No more fever, anyway. That’s gotta be good. Of course, now I’m looking at the clock, counting the hours until Eric’s car pulls into the driveway, the virus having claimed its fourth victim…

…I should wash some towels.

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Unfortunately, it all went downhill from there. Actually, the downward spiral started last night, when a nasty stomach thing hit – naturally – Gabe, who spent the night head down in the toilet, weeping for Eric.  I hit coffee with the running club only briefly after my run, heading home to fill my role as chosen puke-catcher while Eric went with Sam to his Scouts Pinewood Derby.

Only I misread the email. Derby is next week. Whoops. Eric was rightfully unamused.

So I spent the day babying Gabe, who is “that kind” of illness sufferer.  I myself prefer to be left alone to suffer, as usually does Sam, but not Gabe.  On the flip side, he is very appreciative. “Thank you for caring so much about me,” he actually said between sprints to the bathroom.

Tomorrow I sing in church, both services, and then I’m going to try to cram in a cross-training session before the Packers play the Bears and all hell breaks loose in this town. :rolleyes:  Actually, I plan to swim; I’ve been using a free trial at the “posh” gym in town, just to add variety, and I am sort of beginning to not grit my teeth to get through it…

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Today will be “interesting.” The kids have the day off from school for Martin Luther King, Jr., Day, and Sam is really just too big to be in the gym childcare room. I found out yesterday, though, that what I thought was a Couples Membership is really a Family Membership. Sam’s too small to use weight machines (not that I’d have allowed it in any case; no prepubescent chest presses, thanks), but they said he was just fine to use bikes and such. Today, therefore, he and I are going to work together. I want to do a little less extended pedaling (see: saddle sores), so we’ll do a hacked together High Intensity Interval Training, suitable for children. Ten on a bike, jump rope (we’ll see if I can jump on one foot!), balance board, more bike, etc. I want about 30 minutes total of biking today (did 45 on Saturday and an hour yesterday), and we’ll play with the rest.

Wish me luck!

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Of course, now I’m in limbo over the spring marathon. If I can start running again in another week, it’s possible I could do Lake Geneva, if I handled the first few weeks’ mileage in walk-run intervals, going slowly. I won’t have lost so much fitness, anyway. What I think I’ll do is hold off on registering until I’m absolutely sure I can do it. Hey, worst case scenario, based on this, I’m pretty sure I could handle doing the half. We’ll see.

So, back to resting, getting my foot up. Keep your fingers crossed for quick healing for me!

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So I had the MRI yesterday, and it’s a darn good thing I do have the Power of the Intarwebz at my disposal, for the information I don’t have coming fast enough from the doctor’s office. (Eric says they outsource MRI reading to India now. I say that outsourcing is probably meant to expedite things as well as make them cheaper, so READ FASTER, y’all.) Other folks’ docs have prescribed at least three weeks rest, so here’s hoping for minimal sentencing, but it probably axes Lake Geneva, considering I’d need to gently ramp back up after the rest, not dive in where I left off. And that’s assuming that’s all the rest I need. Could get worse.

(Interestingly, the X-ray also showed a bone spur in my heel, which I had been assuming was a mild case of plantar fasciitis. It goes away with calf stretching, so I wasn’t concerned. I intend to remain unconcerned until somebody tells me I should be otherwise.)

Other folks’ docs also treated with things like ultrasound and air casting, which apparently hasten bone growth. I’ll ask about those, praying insurance would cover. I’m wrapping, icing, using ibuprofen and Epsom salt soaks, and walking around in my old boot in the meantime. Proactive: thy name is running-deprived Carrie.

Running-deprived Carrie is also a sad, sad, dejected and depressed Carrie, though. Don’t be fooled by the determination; I’m sitting around, for the most part, feeling about as sorry for myself as I have in a very long time. Epsom baths are great opportunities for moping, as it turns out.

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I get this call as I’m sitting here shivering in a snow-covered house – lake effect snow falling like crazy all over the gosh-darn place – wearing PJ pants and feeling thoroughly grumpy about it. I should still be riding the high from my morning run, which would have been so much fun in this snow! But no, I’m instead resting an ACE-wrapped foot and waiting for a call back from the doctor to let me know whether yesterday’s X-ray showed anything. (Not that it will; even if it is a stress fracture, X-rays don’t usually show anything until after the fracture begins to heal. Unfortunately, insurance companies prefer to start with cheaper tests before moving to more pricey ones, such as the bone scan that would reveal stress fractures, so an X-ray it was.) The NP who saw me doesn’t think it’s a fracture, at least, so we’re treating it as a foot sprain for now. Ice, wrap, ibuprofen, no running until Thursday. Boo!

Mind, if it turns out to be something requiring more time off, I haven’t signed up for Lake Geneva yet; it’s possible that I could do a later race. At least there’s that.

So, my foot’s injured, and there is scariness lurking in my neighborhood. Think it might be a good excuse to say, “To heck with caffeine cutbacks,” and have an extra cup? There are worse things you could do when you’re feeling sorry for yourself, I’d say.

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Biggest thing on my mind right now: on Saturday evening, I did my regular long run, and in the last mile, I felt a pain on the top of my foot. I stopped and loosened my shoelaces, which made the pain disappear, but it came back very slightly at the end. I was too scared to run yesterday, though I could walk without pain and even squeeze my foot without feeling anything, and I’m a little nervous to go today. It’s above my big toe, and, as I said, I can flex and squeeze the metatarsals with no problem, so I’m fairly positive it’s not a stress fracture. Can’t stop worrying, though. Of course, it sends me into my usual tailspin of evaluating every aspect of my life and training – cutting back on coffee/caffeine, studying my calcium intake, etc. It’s not even as though I recently changed anything in a drastic way; one week of marathon training, with fewer miles than I’ve been doing, and only one “hard” workout (the pace did for the flawed pace run wasn’t challenging in itself, just wrong for what I was supposed to be doing), shouldn’t have been enough to cause overuse injury. Probably, my shoes were laced wrong. Doesn’t make me stop freaking, though…

But we played Kinect Sports as a family last night, which took my mind off it for a bit. I don’t understand how Gabe, when pitted head-to-head against me, can consistently wipe the floor with me on nearly every event. What’s that about?

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I suppose, in the grand scale, me coming down with the illness Eric had over the holidays wasn’t nearly the worst thing that could have happened, especially considering that A) there was no vomiting or anything dramatic, and B) I think I got a less virulent strain of it, or else my immune system was strong enough to fight it better than Eric’s was. Still, it’s annoying to have to deal with being sick when I have no backup, while he didn’t even have to go to work, let alone deal with the kids all by himself. My only real failing during the illness has been a greater-than-average amount of meals being of the pizza or mac-and-cheese variety, so I suppose it’s okay.

We pick him up from the airport this afternoon. There was a brief period of consternation when one of Sam’s best girlfriends invited him to a birthday party (a ninja-themed one; now I see why he likes her, and can she be one of my girlfriends, too?) at the time when the plane is touching down, but it’ll all work out, even with Gabe’s anguish over not having been asked to the party. (Uninterrupted Daddy Time mends a lot.) I can’t wait to have him home again; it’s lonely in these parts without my partner home in the evenings. I’m not the teenager I used to be, who enjoyed lengthy phone conversations; I need face time. Plus, the phone hurts my ear after a bit.

Had to postpone this morning’s long run until after Eric gets home, which meant no running club this week. That’s okay, though; we’ll call it a “punishment” for completely butchering yesterday’s attempt at a pace run…

(...)
Read the rest of Lost my train of thought (275 words)

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And I thought to myself, “Am I really intimidated by hills? Or am I wimping out because I just don’t feel like doing the work required?” Suddenly, it was clear. I am not starting out this year that way.

That’s part of what I meant yesterday when I said that I felt challenged by the year. I think I give in too easily on a lot of fronts, and I do it without admitting to myself exactly why I’m giving in. Honesty is important, and I don’t want to lie to myself here. Being brutally honest leads me, then, to the decision about whether I want to allow myself to be the wimp, or whether I’d rather take the bull by the horns, get in gear, and tackle the challenge effectively. I could do the race without preparing well, but it would hurt…and probably more than it will if I just do things the right way in the first place.

This is going to be the year of the Gut Check; the year of Bring It On. No lying to myself, no goldbricking. Eighteen weeks to Lake Geneva!

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I thought it was March that was supposed to come in like a lion, not January.  I just hope it’s a month mix-up, not a portent for 2011 as a whole…

Literally, the day began quite leonine, with the traditional running club “run in the year” being done in suddenly below-freezing temps and WIND LIKE WHOA.  Rough stuff! But that’s all good and worth it.  After all, friends make things like gusting weather way more bearable.

What’s not so much fun is figurative lion stuff, or, to cut to the chase, fleeing a football-watching party with a shrieking, struggling, flailing kid in your arms who’s trying to rip off your face.  I hate being “those people” SO MUCH.  So then Gabe got tossed in bed immediately, amid alternating howls of anger and wails of contrition (he was honestly sorry, but he still couldn’t stem the tide), and we all slumped our shoulders in exhausted surrender.  You win, 2011, but only the first battle…

I feel challenged, somehow, to up my game.  Marathon training begins tomorrow.  My primary resolution for the year is to get back to the strength and core training routine I desperately need, but I also want to focus my running a little more clearly.  Hills, speed work…I’m coming for you.  It begins. 

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February was about doldrums, which I seem to have dealt with by drinking lots of coffee and eating good food, much of which was prepared by my husband’s loving hands.

In March, Eric went to Germany, and I started training for Devil’s Lake. I also went vegetarian.

April saw more running (a half-marathon PR), another Germany trip, and an Easter trip to Madison.

May was thirteen years married to the love of my life. May was a marathon, the Green Bay one. May was Gabe graduating from preschool.

In June, Sam finished school and turned nine, which was the high point of the month. Low points: the ITBS smacking me in the knee, and then the house burglary. But the knee was fixed by physical therapy, in time for me to have one of the most awesome training runs I’ve ever had, on the Kettle Moraine trail, and, thank God, nobody was hurt when the house was burgled.

July…Devil’s Lake. Yes. Just yes.

August was about parents: mine came to visit, and Eric’s dad got remarried. But then Eric went to Mexico, and my dad had serious health scares, and the whole month spiraled down into bad…

…but Alysia came in September, which helped things improve. Needed that, because then school started and Gabe got sad. I ran a lot. Eric (who turned a year older while in Mexico…again…) started running. It was a whole big thing.

October was birthdays (mine and Gabe’s) and another marathon. Also, holes all over my kitchen (electrical work).

November was more travel! We went to Chicago for a race, Toledo for Thanksgiving, and Eric…went to Mexico a bunch more. We also had yucky medical stuff: Gabe was in the ER for puking, and I had my toenails removed. (Temporarily, alas.) But I got one more race in, even if it was a 5K and I was in pain.

And then we come to December. It’s been a lighter month, mood-wise, I think. Gabe became the object of his first crush; we had parties and relaxation time. Christmas was extremely low-key, too. And I ran my final race of the year, the Run Into the New Year 10K, which I finished in 51:05 (9/37 in my age group) on an unseasonably warm and lovely day. (The forecast rain even held off until the second of the two loops, when the sprinkles were just what I needed to cool me down!) Just a perfect ending to the year.

Tonight, the last night of the year, will be as relaxed as the month has been. Gabe has already staunchly insisted that he does not plan to stay up until midnight (the unspoken, “you freaky, freaky people!” hanging in the air afterward, obvious in his wide eyes), but Sam wants to give it the old college try. We’ll see; New Year’s is so anticlimactic when you live outside the eastern time zone. Who wants to just hang out for an hour after the ball drops in Times Square, watching whatever schmo is emceeing our celebration in Chicago? (I think it was Ryan Seacrest last year.) I bought holiday crackers to pop if we want to, which was a hysterical anecdote; the cashier actually scanned my ID because he insisted the crackers were fireworks. I couldn’t stop giggling. Maybe I should ready a fire extinguisher, just in case the little tissue-paper hats burst into flame…

But assuming your own celebrations don’t explode without warning, I hope you all have wonderful ends to your year, as well as lovely years to come. Smile a lot. I plan to.

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The nice thing about shorter races (ones I can finish in less than an hour) is that they don’t require nearly as much forethought. I don’t taper, and I don’t worry about the pre-race dinner, and in fact, we spent the evening at Dave and Buster’s. What can I say? It’s a fun time. Frankly, it’s a little terrifying to watch Gabe destroy everybody in his path with guided missiles, much in the same way that I get chills over his knack for knocking out everyone else in boxing games on the Xbox. Belly laughs were had, though, and all will sleep well – including me, which can only help my racing tomorrow. I don’t know how much I’m going to try to kill it, thinking about my typical paces of late, but we’ll see.

I need the ego boost, frankly. Today, I made the mistake of venturing back into another makeup store, and while I stood there looking bewildered, I was accosted by an overly helpful woman (customer, not employee) who informed me that the shade of lipstick I was wearing was very wrong and (her words, not mine) should really be worn only by…women of a certain ethnicity. She recommended mauve instead. I just don’t know how to handle that.

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Well, Eric’s been messaging me throughout the meeting, where he’s apparently the only father in attendance. And none of the mothers are interested in talking with him, either, so since the activities are, I gather, kid-only, Eric’s been sitting in a corner, feeling ostracized. “Not me [next time],” he says. I can understand; even though the other dads were always very friendly toward me at the old den meetings, I know what it’s like to be the “other parent” at these things.

And now the poor guy’s going to have to come home and stay up late making his dumplings for the company potluck on Thursday (he’ll freeze them and then steam them the day of the potluck). There’s no way around it; he simply will have not much time other than late at night to do them, and at this point, those dumplings have become practically a staple of the yearly party. If they weren’t there, I don’t think he’d hear the end of it until the next year’s potluck. I wish I could help him, too, but since the “recipe” is very much an internal process, all I can do is facilitate. Bummer about this meeting; if we’d known how different it was going to be, I definitely would have gone with Sam, and Eric would have been able to make the dumplings earlier.

(Gabe’s finished the card, as well as another picture for his teacher, and now he’s shifted into full-on draw-draw-draw mode. He’ll fill page after page with squiggly little scenes of aliens, monsters, and robots before he finally hits his point of satisfaction.)

We’re supposed to get some snow tonight, too. Since we haven’t really gotten much yet this season, compared to what it usually seems like, I hope we do get a couple of good inches worth on the ground. Unfortunately, they’re also saying we’ll have some “wintry mix” tomorrow morning, which means that my mid-length run could be less than completely enjoyable. Not that I’d skip it, of course. But icy drizzle is unpleasant. Also, my Garmin is behaving abominably this winter, either refusing to stop when I push the button or else going completely nuts and jumping backward and forward in time. I think sleet might inspire it to go completely on strike.

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And I’m pretty beat right now.

But I hope to hit the hay really soon now, which will give me some good quality rest time, which will hopefully let me spring from the sheets feeling refreshed and ready to go. I’ll need that rest, because not only will it be an early day, but a long one as well, with a choir rehearsal in the late morning and a company Christmas party in the evening. I don’t want to go into either feeling droopy. Shouldn’t be too bad, though; today, as a sign of energy to come, I paused at about five and a half miles into my run and dashed into my church, where a few other choir members were gathering to sing carols to a preschool cookie social. I may have been sweaty and freezing, but I could still rock some “Joy to the World.” (Of course, the remaining miles home felt a little off, having been “fueled” with a couple of peanut butter cookies, but still.)

Anyway, sleep. I need it. Honestly, you probably do, too! Go to bed, guys! Those presents will still be there to wrap in the morning, and you’ll feel better for the extra sleep. Say good night, now; pleasant dreams. Wake up and do it all again tomorrow!

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I’m planning. It’s the time of the year when a lot of runners are laying plans, especially folks whose plans require greater time for training, as in for marathons. Discussion while running with the club this morning, and over subsequent coffee, revolved around our 2011 thoughts. Some people were thinking about timing (later spring races mean less snow training; later fall marathons avoid risk of super-hot race days); some were focusing on location. To travel or not to travel? We talked about pros and cons of various races we’ve already done, sharing with those who were considering them.

I’m an addict, and my plans, as many people’s do, boil down to a spring marathon and a fall one. After doing Devil’s Lake this summer, I needed a little time to muse and research (and heal…), but I tentatively began exploring the idea of entering the lottery for the JFK 50 Mile in November. Yeah, it’s fifty miles, but compared to the course at Devil’s Lake, it seems positively runnable; the middle twenty-six miles are all but flat, for heaven’s sake, along the C&O canal towpath. It wouldn’t be easy, by any stretch, but…with proper training, I think I could do it. Getting in, of course, would be the trick. It’s a tough lottery.

So I needed a backup fall race, as well as a spring one. Since travel was a possibility in the fall, I thought to stay local for the spring, and I narrowed my options to Madison, Lake Geneva, or the Des Plaines River Trail Marathon. Tentatively, I’m leaning toward Lake Geneva, though it’s purportedly quite difficult. We’ll see; I haven’t committed to anything. For a brief period, I was also entertaining the thought of Glass City, but it’s a bit early for those of us around here; I’d very likely have to do my 20-mile training runs through snow and ice, which I’d rather not.

As for the fall backup race, I hadn’t made much headway, until one running club coffee, when a friend started getting curious about the Dances with Dirt series, and, well, it looks possible that I’m going to be peer-pressured into doing the 50K in Hell. Rachel heard about the conversation, and she’s likely game, too. Road trip! It’s not too far from Ann Arbor, so it’s sort of “back home,” too. Interestingly, it’s in mid-September; if I made it into the JFK lottery, there’s nothing to stop me from doing both races, though they’re slightly too far apart to realistically use Hell as a training run for JFK. Not quite sure how I’d handle recovery between the two; I’d need to talk to experienced minds.

Anyway, I haven’t registered for anything yet. That’s the beauty of a new year and, as a fellow runner put it this morning, an odometer ticking back over to zero. The world is my oyster! For now, though, I’m focusing on two immediate goals: the Run into the New Year (haven’t decided yet if I’m doing the 5K or the 10K), and my 2010 mileage goal of 2,010 miles. I’m almost there!

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But the kids had early dismissal, and maybe it was dealing with their excited bickering that eroded my energy. By the time I was delivering boxes to UPS, I could hardly muster the strength to plop the stack on the counter.

Long run tomorrow morning. It’s a sign of Runner’s Mania, likely, that I’m sort of counting on it to give more than it taketh away.

I did spend a little time with Eric tonight, talking through some of my race plans for the coming year. That’s a work-in-progress; tune in for more details later. Let it suffice to say that though he’s supportive and encouraging, my husband thinks I’m loony. It’s okay. He loves me anyway.

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Anyway, still had to get through today. Had my first “snow run” of the year, where I took my legs through piles of the unshoveled white stuff along the bike trail. It’s good for building character, you know. Those of us who live in snowy places spend a good chunk of the year convincing ourselves that the extra effort now will lead to bigger payoffs in the spring than if we were to have milder winters. (Might even be true…) While I was in the thick of it, something told me to stop for a moment; I thought it was just weakness, but when I decided to listen to the voice and switch off the music, within five seconds, a car pulled up next to me with a desperate-looking woman in the driver’s seat, hopelessly lost and in need of directions. If I hadn’t stopped, I wouldn’t have been in a position to help her, so I’ll call it a happy coincidence!

Then I cheered myself up further, knowing I’d have to go out for more Christmas shopping, by putting on this authentic 1970s tunic. It was my mom’s, and I liberated it from her when I was in high school and we had a Spirit Week with a “Flashback” day. Haven’t worn it in a long time, but it makes me smile when I do. I get looks from folks, and I enjoy seeing the double-takes. I just need a pair of funky boots to go with it!

So far, it’s working; I don’t feel grouchy at all tonight. Even picked up some pre-made gingerbread cookies for the kids to decorate tonight if they’re well-behaved! Ho-ho-ho! Sometimes, I think, you really do need to “fake it ’til you make it.” The more I pretend to be in the holiday spirit, the more I find that I’m not pretending.

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This weekend was busy. Eric got in from Mexico late on Friday, and we all got up mega-early on Saturday to get to Chicago for my race. (In hindsight, the ER trip on Thursday night wound up working for me and the kids, since we were all exhausted enough to fall asleep early on Friday and be more awake Saturday than we might have been on less sleep.) We drove to Waukegan and took the train into Chicago, where I kissed them goodbye (left them in the warmer train station to kill the remaining time) and found other race-bib-wearing folks who were hoofing it over to Grant Park. Good thing, too; otherwise, I’d have been relying on my phone’s GPS to get me through the streets and to the start.

The starting corral was mega-MEGA-crowded. I couldn’t even push my way up to the conservative pace starting point that I’d intended to follow, so I just hung back with the 10-minute-per-mile folks and hoped that by the time we crossed the actual starting line, things would thin out enough that I could move up. Yeah, ha-ha! I did move up, but it was tricky! The course was completely bottlenecked, and there were plenty of places where passing at all was simply not an option. Also, I don’t mind running on gravel, or even large gravel, but doing it in a packed group where you can’t see more than a couple of feet’s worth of ground in front of you at any moment is really challenging, as far as foot placement. I finished in 1:22:17, which was 163/1193 in my age group. The crowd really held me to the slower pace I’d wanted to hold, being a week out of the marathon (heck, the main reason I chose the 15K instead of the 5K was that I didn’t want to be tempted to push myself), but if I hadn’t had that goal in mind, I’d have been really ticked about it. Many people were, I gather, from reading the race reviews in various places. (Why on earth did they start the 5K race before the 15K, anyway?!)

After that, and after the chocolate (yummy) and the kids’ fair (they liked it), the day went downhill, as everybody’s exhaustion started catching up to them. We did get to see Cloud Gate, which we hadn’t seen before, and we ate lunch at Weber Grill, which would have been good…but Gabe’s belly started to hurt again. Mind you, at his doctor appointment on Friday, we got no answers but a list of labs and tests to do. We’ve done the blood draw, are waiting for him to provide a stool sample, and are hoping like heck that those results come back quickly enough that we can avoid having to do an upper GI exam on him. In the meantime, though, his belly hurts at random intervals. He recovered enough that the trip back to and on the train were fine, but he fell asleep on the way, and when he woke up, he screamed and cried about his stomach until falling asleep in the car. At home…he was fine. Argh.

Anyway, busy week ahead, so I need to gear up. Now moving up my list of priorities are a couple of ingrown toenails than I now have the time to deal with, so wish me quick recovery from that!

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We got through Sam’s family tree project last night, or as much of it as we could do at home, anyway. He’s doing the rest at school, where there’s apparently an art class component. That certainly threw a hitch in things when we weren’t certain about the exact due date; most of the folks with kids in Sam’s grade whose phone numbers I knew had art on different days, so the due dates were wildly different. We ran into the mother of a classmate last night when we had to run out for printer ink, and when I told her we needed to print Sam’s work to take in tomorrow, I thought her eyes were going to pop out. “Chris had better not come home from Tae Kwan Do to tell me he needs to finish it tonight!” Sam assured her that he didn’t think Chris had art for at least another day.

The work itself went more smoothly last night than the night before, since we’d gotten through the “dates and places” stage and moved on to the fun information part. Sam was fascinated by how many military veterans were in our family, as well as by how many coal mining families. That part sort of freaked him out, as did the part where I went back a little further in history and mentioned how the families got much bigger and had many more incidences of “Infant Son” and “Infant Daughter.” No amount of explanation about better medical knowledge, sanitation, and general health improvements made him feel any more reassured. Sam is not my little stoic. (And I rather love him like that – not tearful and worried, of course, but sensitive to the idea of a parent’s pain.)

Tomorrow’s going to be complicated, with having to take the train down to Chicago to pick up my race packet for Saturday morning. Has to be done, though! Wish me luck!

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Now for the longer version. I went up on Friday with the family to hit the expo and get my race bib. My local friend Anna was also running the race – her first full marathon – but couldn’t make it to the expo, so I was getting her stuff, too, and planned to give it to her before race start. The expo was tiny and disappointing. I don’t know why I expected it to be bigger, as it was the first year for this race; maybe it was because the area is just so hugely runner-friendly. In any event, we were out of there within fifteen minutes and off to dinner. (Claddagh. I had the linguini, which was good, but I enjoyed the bread basket more than the entree itself. Oh, and we bumped into Maria there, the woman with whom I ran most of Green Bay! We were all set to meet and run together again for this race, which gave me a charge of optimism.)

I didn’t really sleep well at all, due to the typical “what if the alarm doesn’t go off” frets, but I woke up in plenty of time to have my usual peanut butter bagel and a couple of cups of extremely bad hotel coffee. Then I walked to the race start, met up with Anna, and it was almost time to go.

I hadn’t known before that previous night just how small a race crowd it was going to be; the website combined all three races (the full, half, and 10K) into one registrant list, and I hadn’t gone through and counted. Maria knew, though, and Anna also counted: the number of people registered for the full marathon was less than 500. That was fewer than did Kenosha which was horribly lonely. I thanked my lucky stars that Maria and I were planning to stay together, and that I had my iPod. Certainly didn’t want to revisit that experience! There was a four-hour pace group, which we also thought to use, but when the pace group leader, at the starting line, said, “Oh, is this course hilly?” we immediately lost all faith in his ability to lead us through. (In fact, we did end up finishing ahead of him.)

So we were off, and the first part of the course wasn’t too bad. It was what I would have described, in fact, as “slightly rolling.” It wasn’t flat, but the hills were very manageable, and before long, we were on some extremely lovely trails through a nature conservancy. The crowd support was occasionally a bit sparse though there, but we were in the middle of a nice-sized group, so it wasn’t a big deal. (Interesting: I never really got to much of an “alone” part, but when we’d double back and see folks behind us, some of them were fairly abandoned. I suppose I simply lucked out into being at the more common running pace this time around.)

Then, just prior to mile 10, we left the trails, and were on roads. And the hills began. I suppose that after Devil’s Lake, I could be embarrassed about being daunted by these hills, but the difference is that at Devil’s Lake, we walked a lot of the uphills instead of charging hard up them. We made it through three+ miles of the hills, but they took a ton of energy out of me, and I began to feel nauseated.

Here’s the thing: at Green Bay, Maria and I ran to mile 19 together, where she had to take a pit stop and insisted I go on without her. I went sub-four-hour there; she missed it. This was her sub-four chance, and I did not want to hold her back, but I knew I was flagging. By mile 15, when I was beginning to debate whether just throwing up and moving on would feel better or worse, I told her she needed to drop me. She didn’t want to, but I insisted. She took off…and she got her 3:54.

I didn’t puke. I also didn’t hit a Port-a-John, despite cramps that made me worry. (Every time I reached one, it was occupied, and I knew I didn’t want to wait to use it.) Instead, I used my music, gritted my teeth, and rode it out. I finished the second half slightly slower than the first, with my energy tank approaching empty, but I hit the finish line in 4:00:16. I didn’t feel as bad as I did at Marine Corps, by a long shot, so we’ll consider it even. Also, I only ever reached the point of wanting to punch a man in the face one time, when we were turning a corner and he, directing us, said, “Stay to the right when you go up.” Up. Another darn hill! But I let him live. And, hey, I beat a guy dressed as the god Mercury, though his bumblebee-costumed girlfriend trounced us both.

Good points for the race: the beautiful trails, the awesomely cheery aid station workers, the decorations (especially the one at mile 6, with gruesome signs painted in fake blood, with spatters all over the ground!), the costumed runners, the clear markings and clearly explained logistics surrounding the race.

Weak points: the expo, the pace groups (probably unnecessary to have them, the way they were, but, then, I can’t speak for the other two pace groups that were available; maybe they were better), the running out of bananas and typical post-race fuel before even the four-hour finishers crossed (there was plenty of greasy pizza and boneless wings, but my stomach wasn’t able to handle even looking at that), and the medals. Seriously, it was the tiniest medal I’ve ever gotten, about the same size as the teensy age-group medal I got at a 5K a couple years ago. It’s a cute design, though.

The ugly: after I showered up at the hotel and we grabbed lunch, I had to sit in the van for the two-hour ride home. Every exhausted muscle tightened up immensely, and I’m aching badly now. Stretching, rolling…hurting. The party we attended with Eric’s coworkers last night nearly finished me off, energy-wise! But it’s all good now, and I’ll make it through trick-or-treating tonight…somehow…

Oh, the details: I placed 150th overall, out of 354 finishers. Out of 59 in my age group, I came in 17th. Photos aren’t up yet, really, but you can go here to see an initial glimpse.

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My hair, post-run:

Gotta love it.

Oh, I forgot to finish my thought from the earlier post! Anyway, considering the 50-miler. I had two in mind, “easier” than Dances with Dirt courses, but this weekend at running club, I was chatting with another member, and…well, now he’s all psyched up for potentially doing Hell next year. It’s feasible, considering timing, that I could use Hell (the 50K) as a training run for a 50-miler…or else I need slapped.

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Getting my game plan together now. For a brief period, I debated going light for the race itself, since the website claimed to have water and gels at insanely frequent intervals throughout the course; then wiser heads in running club prevailed, gently reminding me that I was insane to trust what organizers put on the internet. After all, organizers were the ones who told me that my first marathon, in Kenosha, was going to feature loads of course entertainment. So, I’ll carry my own gels and water, and I’ve already made plans to run with Maria, the woman with whom I ran Green Bay back in the spring. Looking forward to that!

No costume for me, though. I’ll sit back and enjoy everybody else’s.

Here’s some humor. I had been debating between a couple of 50-mile races for next fall. I KNOW. But, honestly, the primary one I was considering looked positively idyllic compared to Devil’s Lake! Large flat portions! Road sections!

Uh, oh. I’ll come back in a second. Tornado warning, and everything says go downstairs now.

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Also, cooking for the three of us remains a challenge. Tonight we had three different dinners; I had the base meal I’d intended for all of us (cheesy polenta), topped with mushrooms and onions in balsamic, and Sam opted to cook his own salmon burger. Gabe magnanimously decided to eat the meal he’d refused last night (pasta with carrots and broccoli in a cheese sauce) and that I’d put in the fridge for him to finish later. Oddly, he pronounced that it had turned edible by virtue of being cold. Weird kid. But we had interesting conversation over dinner, discussing the upcoming student council elections and why posters with Star Wars characters didn’t necessarily mean that the candidate was the one best suited for office. Not sure if Gabe even gets to vote, but Sam was strongly in favor of the Star Wars kid.

Had a checkup with Sam’s allergist today, just to tweak some things. When we were finished, I asked the doctor whether my “Where did the air go?” performance after Marine Corps (and which I felt almost start to happen again at Green Bay, before I started wildly walking in tight circles in the confined finishers’ chute area to keep from slowing down too abruptly) could be related to the asthma he’s wondered in the past about me having. He suggested a quick evaluation in the coming week, just to check to see if there could be something we could do to ward off problems in the future, so I might do that. Most of the time, the only real issues I have with breathing involve a few miles of coughing in very dry weather before my lungs adjust. Not usually so dramatic. Still, the return of the fall marathon must be making me paranoid again.

Fun note: the allergist said he’s trying to work up to a 10K himself. I invited him to come run with our group on Saturdays, and he said he might. This madness is contagious.

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Seventeen days.

But I’m tapering, at least, which is a very good thing, especially after this weekend. On Friday, I had a regular ten-miler scheduled, and I decided to sandwich my Worldwide Festival of Races 10K into the middle of it. Ten miles isn’t hard for me at this stage in the game, but I finished those 10K in a personal PR of 49:21 – not crazy fast, but taxing enough to leave me feeling a bit jelly-legged when I was done. (The slight break when my race course got bisected by a raised drawbridge and a slow-moving yacht, however, was an unexpected boost). I was fine, though, until I tried to do Saturday’s last remaining 20-miler several hours later. Ow. Muscling through that was challenging, and I feel nothing but relief to think that now, I won’t have to do another 20+mile training run for the rest of 2010. After the marathon, I could go on cruise control until 2011 if I want! It’s all up to me!

Now I have a very slight head cold, but at least this one is appropriately timed. No more long runs, and enough time before the race for a full recovery. Sure, I can be sick now.

Eric’s in Mexico (AGAIN), so I feel grouchy about that. Miss him.

Oh, postscript: anyone out there doing the Hot Chocolate 5K or 15K on November 6th? I’m doing the 15K and would love to meet up with other runners.

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(And this was after I delivered a lovely little self-righteous lecture to Sam about why he needed to study the Bible, using the reference about how babies have milk, but as we grow spiritually, we need solid food. Maybe Mama needs to put down the bottle sometimes, too.)

(Not that kind of bottle. Shut up.)

I got humbled on the run today, too, though not be any particular failure on my part. It’s just hard to maintain one’s poise while having gallons of water dumped on one’s head from heavy, lightning-streaked, clouds. “Squish, squish, squish” is not the sound of victory…unless you consider victory to be not throwing in the towel as water streamed over our faces. (Ah, running club: where insanity is actually contagious.) In that case, sure, I was successful – and then we all got to sit around looking like drowned rats over coffee mugs, while the other cafe patrons eyed us significantly and not approvingly. “But I don’t want to go among mad people.” “Oh, you can’t help that. We’re all mad here.”

Is there any other way I can have the rest of my self-image shaken today? I’m a little afraid to put that out there…

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Things that make me feel happy today:
- Sam headed straight down to the shower this morning with no debate or complaining. (It’s a new routine this school year that we’ve instituted, partly to help wake him up and get him level-headed and partly because, well, he needs it. Switching from evening to morning was a jolt for him, but he’s getting there.)
- Gabe seems to be in a good mood today, too, though that might be because there’s string cheese in the fridge, and this kid adores it.
- Also, Gabe finished up the school week last week by having “not a single tear all day!” so I have high hopes for continued adjustment.
- I had a really nice 20-miler on Saturday, despite the rain that lasted through nearly the whole run. I’ve decided to treat this marathon as a reward for a year’s worth of hard running, so I’m going into it with no time goal and just a relaxed mind ready to enjoy every moment and fun sight.
- Saturday night, a moment after “lights out,” I crunched my small toes really, really hard into a door frame, and I was convinced at least one was broken. Took the day off, rested, and now they feel okay, thank God!
- Eric’s running, and he’s enjoying it this time around. It’s great to see him start something new like this and have it slowly become a source of pleasure!
- I’ve got kale in the fridge and kale chips on the brain for dinner.

I have a step-back week in marathon training now, which will feel lovely. This is another reason I feel compelled to make this marathon “for fun”: when I’ve trained for marathons before, I don’t recall feeling quite so relieved to reach the first step-back week between 20-milers, and I know that’s because I’ve done so much work this year. I really didn’t get much recovery time between DWD and beginning to train for this. Everything seems to be holding up okay, physically, but my paces are a smidge slower and my mind a touch more reluctant to push things…so I’m going to be conservative, which feels right. After all, many marathoners feel that training for one marathon a year is plenty for the body to handle; I’ve already done 3 marathon+ distances this year (Green Bay, DWD, and one 27-mile training run), plus plenty of 20+-milers leading up to those. I’m just over 1,500 running miles for the year at this point; last year, for the entire year with two marathons, I topped out at 1,850. Crazy!

Anyway, have to go pack lunch for Gabe; Sam’s a big fan of the hot lunch option, for some reason, but Gabe is reluctant because he detests milk, and the idea of requesting a different drink from the lunch folks intimidates him a little. I don’t mind.

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ME: “Gabe, why do I run?”
GABE: “Because you do races.”
ME: “Okay, that’s true. But why do I do races?”
GABE: “Because you’ve signed up for them.”

We had a nice chat about why one would intentionally sweat and work one’s body, as I pointed out to him that all this is supposed to be fun as well as healthy. Growing up, I didn’t really have that perspective on it – exercise was sort of like eating the vegetables you didn’t like: something you did because people in charge said you had to, and you couldn’t wait to grow up and not have to do it anymore – so I didn’t realize that it could be like everything else I was learning. I studied all sorts of maths and sciences in school, and while the basics of those studies do get used on an everyday basis now that I’m grown, the early studies also offered me the chance to see whether I might develop a deeper interest in them that could lead to a career or hobby. (Answer: heck to the no.) We read and discussed novels, short stories, essays, and missives from all eras and on many topics, not simply to become well-read youths, but to open our minds to wide-flung areas of study. We were not all to be professional artists, musicians, or actors, but gentle encouragement toward extracurricular activities (one or two, anyway; my school was heading toward the “that’s all fine and good, so long as you can squish it in between the ‘important’ classes” philosophy as I aged) was beneficial for creating a balanced young adult.

And physical activity should have been handled the same way, not as a gauntlet for elevating the Alpha Children over those of lower tiers.

Oh, it’s an argument for another day; today, I want to focus on what should be, not what, regrettably, was. My kids and I talk, and will talk, about all their avenues for moving their bodies and keeping the systems in top shape. Whether they’re competitive athletes or not, my hope is that they can find enjoyment in movement. I do try to lead by example, but sometimes actual literal discussion helps, too. After all, I wouldn’t want them thinking the only reason I’m out there, day after day, is because some trick of my psyche leads me to compulsively register for races I’d rather not even do, all things considered.

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Found out yesterday that Gabe got assigned to what’s been reported to me as the “easier” of the two kindergarten classes. Not that they use different curricula or anything, but I guess one teacher prefers a “sit down and write” approach, while the other is a bit more chill about things, and Gabe got the latter. I hope it works out and makes things pleasant for him, though he did do better at the less play-based preschool than he did at the opposite. We’ll see. For some reason, the kid who’s never been scared of school is now telling me that he’s afraid of kindergarten. His reason? “I won’t be in the same class as Sam.” Well, he’s never been before! Maybe he was hoping it’d be like Wednesday night class at church, where when he graduated from the nursery, it was to sit next to his big brother. In any event, this all started coming out after I read him Junie B. Jones and the Stupid Smelly Bus, where she went to kindergarten; it was a wild romp of naughtiness that reminded me so much of him, but perhaps Junie’s apprehension of the bus let Gabe feel free to express his own anxieties. Poor guy. I reassured him that what Junie needed was what he’ll have: a big brother on the bus.

Sam got the teacher about whom we know nothing, good or bad. Keeping fingers crossed that he finally, finally, didn’t get the strict one. Not that there’s anything wrong with firmness, but after a few years, I think he’s served his time and has earned the right to the smiley teacher who giggles a lot, right? (Maybe I’ve earned it, too?)

Anyway. Supposed to be hot today, and I’ve got seven miles scheduled. I should work hard on waking up a little more, or I might doze right off in the middle of the run.

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Everything here is…going. Nothing wild, nothing wonderful, nothing much new. I did volunteer at a local half-Ironman triathlon last weekend, which was a lot of fun.

I handed out sports drink at an aid station along the run route and got rather sunburnt. But I looked and felt better than some of those athletes, though; it was super-hot, and some of them were pretty destroyed by the time they got to us.

My running has just about recovered from Devil’s Lake, and I’m ensconced in training for the Haunted Hustle, now that Eric’s fairly certain he’ll be in the country for me to run it. That’ll be fun. I don’t know whether to set a time goal or just have fun; think I’ll leave that decision for a little further out, when I can wrap my brain around it a bit better. It’s only been a couple of weeks, after all. There won’t be pace groups or anything like we had at Green Bay, which was a big help to me. This weekend, I’m scheduled for thirteen miles (already? Again?), and it’s supposed to be flirting with thunderstorms, but I’ll manage. Ran in the rain this morning, and it’s not bad, even if it does slow me down a touch. (That was the dark, too; this morning nearly hit two points of my “Do Not Like” trifecta – heavy rain/snow, dark, and strong winds – that will sway me towards the treadmill when all three are touched. But the rain wasn’t all that heavy, and the darkness was lifting, so there wasn’t really much temptation there – just a slower-than-usual pace.)

The kids are kids. Gabe is doing fantastically in his summer class, with his teachers praising him to the heavens. Sam is doing well, too, though he’s had some issues with the older kids in his class, some of whom are naturally a bit sneery at the younger kid who’s there voluntarily instead of having been placed there for being behind. That’s been hard on Sam, and I don’t know if I’d have made the same decision to put him there had I really anticipated it. (He didn’t make things easier on himself by cheerfully announcing on the second day, “I’m here because I’m really good at reading!” ) His teacher’s standing up for him, thank goodness, but…I’ll breathe a sigh of relief when it’s over next week.

Summer is going quickly. How did that happen?

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The short of it is, I finished in 6 hours, 47 minutes, which was apparently good enough for 2nd place in my age group and 12th woman overall. The award for placing in my age group?

Long story:

• Got there about 45 minutes early; got thoroughly intimidated by the parking area full of cars that had plenty of magnets, but nothing less than “50″ on them. (One said, “You ran a marathon? That’s cute.” ) Rachel didn’t roll in until 5:20 (start was at 5:30), so I had plenty of time to fret and feel out of place. Just before the start, I heard my name, and Brian was right behind us! That was cool.
• First leg was going to be the toughest, from my study of the course, and my fretting made it worse; my stomach clenched, I thought I would puke, and I entertained doubts about even finishing. Rough getting started. Running down the ski slope was massively hard, especially due to it having been turned into a mud slide by faster runners.
• The uphills were killer, but we decided to stick quite a bit to a 4″/1″ run-walk strategy whenever we could. It helped break things up a bit.
• I fell hard three times – once just after 7 miles, again near the same spot on the way back at the end, and again not long after that. I was covered in mud and grime, and I was pessimistically convinced I’d killed my phone with at least one of those falls, but it turned out just fine.
• Stone stairs = whoa. That was incredibly intense, and it seemed to go on forever. (I cracked jokes that, geometrically speaking, I’d always thought of “up” as a limited thing, not a line without an end point.) No way to run that – at least, not at my skill level.
• In leg 5, what the packet described as “off trail section of about half a mile through the woods with bad footing”? HA-HA-HA! Nothing but slippery, mossy rocks, which you had to scale by gripping the trees around them.
• Long legs are invaluable in climbing up and down ledges. Rachel has ‘em. I don’t. Had to use my hands and arms to help climb more than once.
• Both IT bands took turns alternating with the pain. Oh, well; at least there was variety.
• By the end, Rachel and I were alone quite a bit, and I was whipped. We got to the final turn and saw the finish line, and Rachel yelled, “Go!” I said, “I’m in ‘go.’ This is ‘go.’ YOU go!” and she took off like a killer was chasing her.

So, Rachel took second in her age group, too, and 11th female. It was massively difficult; other runners with whom we chatted afterward said it was one of the gnarliest 50Ks they’d done. For a long time, I thought that we were the last two women off the course, but just as I told Rachel that, another 50Ker crossed the line, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see when the final results get posted.



Verdict: fun. But mostly in hindsight. Will I do it again? Well, it’s kind of like childbirth, in this case, I think. Ask me when my wounds have healed!



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/07/10/race-report-dances-with-dirt-devils-lake-50k/feed/ 16 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/07/06/lets-get-this-party-started/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/07/06/lets-get-this-party-started/#comments Tue, 06 Jul 2010 20:47:19 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1522 Continue reading →]]> “I realize that the course for the DWD presents a number of potential dangers to me and I hereby assume the risk arising from all of them.”

My race instructions and details arrived in the mail. It’s here. Devil’s Lake is on Saturday.

“I realize that my participation in this event entails the risk of injury or even death…I know that broken bones, reaction to poison ivy, insect bites, and bruising are common occurrences in this extreme event and that I will be far into the wilderness away from medical support.”

Along with this cheerful bit of a liability waiver is a course map and a pamphlet with instructions and descriptions of the course legs. Um, how steep is a Bunny Slope? How about an Intermediate ski slope? (Never mind; it’s about 970 feet over a couple of miles, is how steep, at least when you combine the two.) I actually think I’m more concerned about running down the Double Black Diamond. I’ve never been skiing, but somehow, that name doesn’t sound “gently sloping” to me. And of course, that would be the part that they’re describing as having tall, footstep-obscuring, grass.

But all that’s just the first 4.5 miles. Then the fun really starts.

“I certify…that I have trained adequately for this race.”

I certainly hope I have. I guess we’ll see on Saturday!



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/07/06/lets-get-this-party-started/feed/ 3 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/27/the-aftermath/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/27/the-aftermath/#comments Sun, 27 Jun 2010 14:48:38 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1497 Continue reading →]]>

(Pictures stolen from Rachel, as I warned her I would do!)

So, we ran a really, really long way yesterday. More to the point, we ran it on the Ice Age Trail, involving over 8,000 feet of climbing. It was incredible, and incredibly intense. Highlights, and lowlights, included:

• Horseflies all over the gosh-darn place, despite repeated applications of bug repellent. Our hair was full of flies!
• Sections where the trail was almost completely obscured by hip-high wild grass – beautiful, but hard to run through, and we had to try hard not to think about snakes…
• I fell pretty hard around 9.5 miles – unfortunately, while I was trailing on the single track, which meant that not only did I get a skinned elbow, but also a shoe to the face. Lesson learned: trail from further behind.
• Mushrooms with caps larger than my open, stretched palm!
• Green that was greener than any green I’ve ever seen.
• Running low on water = bad.
• The high you get from finding and replenishing with fresh water = enormous!
• Tons of great conversation, as well as quiet periods to reflect on God’s astounding creation.
• Friendly campers and hikers put perk into your step.
• Friendly campers playing music while you change socks really put the perk there! It’s a pretty good sign that you’re getting a second wind when you can do the Time Warp at 17 miles into a trail run. (Me, not Rachel. She’s never seen the Rocky, if you can imagine!)
• Randomly-placed benches are awesome. Remembering the approximate locations of the benches for your return run makes for a great motivator (although I did start to wonder whether I’d hallucinated the first bench when it was well beyond the spot where I thought it would be).
• My feet swelled pretty badly, which made the downhills extremely painful on my toes. The possibility is strong that I’m going to lose my big toenails over the next few days; they’re pretty dark. At one point, when I accidentally booted a large rock with one, I screamed! Going to relace my shoes, possibly get a second pair of larger shoes to change into at the midpoint aid station for Devil’s Lake.
• Reached the end of the run a little short of where we wanted to be, mileage-wise, and we still had the mental fortitude to make up most of it on the roads around the parking lot. Boo-freaking-yeah!

I’m sure I’ll remember more, but for now…it’s taper time! Ten miles to do today (probably with plenty of walking; my sore toes are more the reason than my tired legs, though), and ten miles is the longest run length I have from here on out to the race. I can’t believe it’s finally here!




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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/27/the-aftermath/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/25/always-look-on-the-bright-side-of-life/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/25/always-look-on-the-bright-side-of-life/#comments Fri, 25 Jun 2010 18:55:52 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1494 Continue reading →]]> If it’s raining on Saturday when we’re running 26-28 miles, it shouldn’t be too sticky-steamy (probably).

If it’s thundering, it’ll add to the excitement. In the same vein, suddenly slipping down hills on impromptu mudslides should also add a bit of mystery to each next step. On the other hand, keeping our footing should keep us slow, which would help my IT band – bonus either way.

If I get incredibly sore, it’ll make relaxing at Sam’s pool party feel awesome the next day, right? (You know, after I put in ten more “recovery” miles. Have to pay my dues, y’know.)

I am DEFINITELY earning a corner piece of the birthday cake. Aw, yeah, frosting.

At least the trails we’re planning to use are the ones that didn’t get hit by tornadoes this week, hey?

In all seriousness, the real bright side here is that if it is raining on Saturday, it will allow for us to experience what we haven’t experienced in this entire training cycle: trail running in poor weather. I would bet real money that this guy would not cancel a race because of a little falling water:


They’ve rerouted the race in the past due to flooding, but cancel? Yeah. So having a little extra preparation under our belts could be a useful thing, if uncomfortable in the short-term. And that’s what I’ll keep telling myself…



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/25/always-look-on-the-bright-side-of-life/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/20/race-report-2010-lighthouse-run/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/20/race-report-2010-lighthouse-run/#comments Sun, 20 Jun 2010 22:15:27 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1483 Continue reading →]]> More of a “race” report, really. I went into the race knowing I didn’t want to deplete myself, and that my knee really needed a very low-key training run. Also, the temperature was around 75 degrees at the start, and it was very humid due to storms the day before. (Evidence: our neighbor’s tree.) I woke up with race-day energy, but I decided to empty some of that out by cycling to the race start.

At the starting line, I found some friends from running club, and I wound up running with Dan, who planned to take things very slow and use walk breaks. Sounded great to me! It was very hot, and I had a handheld water bottle (also calculated to slow my pace) that I sipped throughout. We walked often, and we chatted the whole time, just enjoying the atmosphere and the company. As a result, I finished the ten miles with a personal worst race time of 1:44:59, but it was exactly what I wanted: my knee felt fine, and my energy levels were still high enough to handle the coming week’s brutal mileage, and the day’s heat didn’t leave me feeling sick. I biked home a little more tired in the legs than when I started, but I even had enough left in the tank to get me through a day at Legoland with the family. Beautiful!

And then I went out today and did a second ten miles at a more brisk pace, but I still felt really good. The IT band seems to be holding up well, thanks to all the rolling and the PT. Three more weeks until race day!



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/20/race-report-2010-lighthouse-run/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/11/doesnt-feel-like-a-weekday/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/11/doesnt-feel-like-a-weekday/#comments Fri, 11 Jun 2010 21:35:35 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1467 Continue reading →]]> The problem with summer break is that the days lose their sense of identity. It’ll get better when the kids start their summer school classes, but with other major activities also on hiatus, the weekdays just run together into a big smushed-up pile of Life. Today, we had Eric home in the morning for a doctor appointment, to which we drove him, which caused the whole day to feel like Saturday. Now he’s back at work, the kids are outside, and…I have no idea what it feels like anymore.

I know it’s not Saturday, though. If it were Saturday of this week, I’d either be out running 26 miles or exhausted from having done so already. That’ll be a treat; I’ll be all alone for the run, the rest of the running club not having the need to cover as much ground on trails as they can, and there are thunderstorms threatening. Oh, and the matter of my IT band. All told, this could be a real trial of a run. I think I’m already accepting the foregone conclusion that Sunday’s ten-mile recovery is going to involve a lot of walking.

(Side note: Oh, please tell me that’s not Gabe throwing another epic tantrum out there. I had to pull the boys in from playing with friends yesterday when I heard him start screaming in anger from all the way down the block. Mmm, okay, I don’t hear anything else, so if it was him, it was an isolated holler. We’ll just keep listening.)

Especially funny is that we have a wedding reception to attend later in the evening on Saturday. Here’s hoping for plenty of chairs, as well as relief that even if there is dancing, Eric definitely comes down on the side of spectator, not participant. Ordinarily, I try to beg at least one or two turns around the dance floor out of him, but he may get off lucky this time.

Oh, crap! Here’s something that just threw me: tonight is the church’s “School’s Out Bash” (our answer to VBS; the whole family attends a series of evening events scattered over the summer), which I almost completely forgot! See, it doesn’t feel like Friday!



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/11/doesnt-feel-like-a-weekday/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/07/wincing/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/07/wincing/#comments Mon, 07 Jun 2010 19:50:33 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1461 Continue reading →]]> You would be amazed, if you haven’t tried it, how much it can BLOODY HURT to put your body weight onto and roll around on a tight IT band. Like, stomach-trembling hurt. Whimpering wildly hurt. Also, I managed to give myself some pretty wicked rug-burn on my elbow, which was not among the warnings I was given, but whatever. That hurts, too.

But Zach, the Wonder Physical Therapist, who understands my plight and is happy to get me where I want to be, says Roll, so I Roll. At least four times a day, five minutes at a time. When he said that, before I’d tried it for more than ninety seconds (which hurt but not too badly), I was all, “Only five minutes? Only four times?” Now I’m sort of dreading the evening, when I get to go again. Yet I know myself, and I know that when this initial pain wears down (the elbow is worse than the leg right now, already), I’ll be wanting to go again. I need this knee to be better. I need it now.

Zach was really quick to affirm that it was IT band, not “Runner’s Knee.” He did a little compression test, gripping me above the knee and having me extend and bend my leg, and when I nearly had to be peeled from the ceiling, he chuckled and had his answer. So there. I’ll be rolling and stretching, and I’ll be back in the office about twice a week for a few weeks, which is really aggressive, sure, but I don’t have a lot of time. He knows that, and he’s willing to work with my motivation. The only dilemma, as far as he sees it, is deciding whether it would be better to keep me running on roads for the moment, which would clear up the ITBS faster, or have me on the trails, which would benefit me in the race. He said I could do all the rest of my training on roads, get to the starting line feeling absolutely groovy, and just wipe up the mess afterward – and there would be mess, certainly, but I’d at least feel good for most of the race, if not so very much when I was done. I, um, sort of don’t like that idea.

Breathe in, now breathe out…keep rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, rollin’…



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/07/wincing/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/04/oh-the-knee-bands-connected-to-the-butt-band/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/04/oh-the-knee-bands-connected-to-the-butt-band/#comments Fri, 04 Jun 2010 16:47:47 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1456 Continue reading →]]> GABE: “Do I have school today?”
ME: “No, school’s out until fall.”
GABE: “Well, do I have MOPS?”
ME: “Not anymore. You outgrew it!”
GABE: “Church?”
ME: “Bible Blast is over for the summer.”
GABE: “Then what am I supposed to do with myself?!”

Somebody is going to be super fun until his summer classes start, can’t you tell?

Saw the doctor this morning. I decided when I woke up that I should take the day as a full rest day, no cross training, just to be safe. The doctor examined me and saw no signs of torn cartilage or anything like that; she thinks simple overuse, possibly with a touch of Runner’s Knee. I got a referral for physical therapy, and I asked her to make sure it was somebody aggressive and athlete-friendly. My appointment with them is on Monday; she thinks I probably should hold off running until then. Walking should be okay, but pain is to be my guide. That’s tricky when my brain is playing the “OMG, what was that twinge?” game, but I’ll try. I was listening to an episode of The Extra Mile with a Jeff Galloway interview in which he spoke of having injured runners, training for marathons, cut back to walking, and how they were really resistant to the idea but were able to recover and even come close to or meet their original race goals. That said, I want to keep my planned mileage, so I may be starting the weekend’s training sessions a bit earlier in the day than I planned. Can’t be helped.

Wish I had access to a pool. I’m not a Swimmer by anybody’s definition, but I can swim, and right now, pushing myself like that sounds awesome and safe at the same time.



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/04/oh-the-knee-bands-connected-to-the-butt-band/feed/ 3 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/03/here-i-go-again/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/03/here-i-go-again/#comments Thu, 03 Jun 2010 13:13:36 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1454 Continue reading →]]> Yesterday’s 10-mile run went fine, with some very slight knee pain at the end. Over the course of the day, though, the pain worsened. I took ibuprofen, tried to rest it, iced it. It hurt. It still hurts. This morning, when I woke, it felt a lot better, but when I started out for my 4-mile run, the pain returned immediately, so I stopped and walked home.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. Really, really scared.

I’ll be calling my doctor this morning – oh, her office just opened, so I’ll call as soon as I finish typing this. If she wants to give me more advice, refer me to PT, whatever, I’m open to it. I will do whatever I have to do in order to make this work for DWD. I did sign up yesterday for the town’s 10-mile Lighthouse Run in three weeks (sandwiched the weekend between my last two long runs), but if I have to drop out, I’ll do it. I don’t even know for certain whether this is ITBS; when I had that issue before, it was only painful when I was running. This feel stiff and sore even when I just move it. It feels like it hurts to bend it.

Scared. And truly not wanting any words about worst-case scenarios, etc., right now. I’ve got enough doomspeak going on in my head for the moment.



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/03/here-i-go-again/feed/ 7 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/01/highs-and-lows/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/01/highs-and-lows/#comments Tue, 01 Jun 2010 13:17:30 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1451 Continue reading →]]> Saturday was a high point for me, because I’m completely loony – but in a way that I know many of you will understand. Woke up at 3 AM, picked up my friend Rachel at 3:30, and we were running trails by 4. I’m telling you, there has been little more surreal in my current list of life experiences than running through the woods, shin-deep in wet grass, by flashlight and chest light, seeing glowing green eyes through the darkness as we went. It was a rough run, especially after the water pump we were told would be working turned out not to be, so we both ran out of fluids partway around a large loop, but with a reasonable amount of walking, we did a total of 24 miles together.
  
It was a bit muddy out there.

But the “run” the next morning, Sunday, wasn’t so pleasant. My IT band along my right knee had begun barking a bit at the end of the trail run, and on Sunday, it was miserable from almost the beginning. I tried using a stabilizer band, but it helped not one bit. I stopped and stretched frequently, walked a bunch, but it wound up being a horrible death march home in the end. It’s amazing, too, how one bad run, even a really bad one – in a cycle where you haven’t had a bad run like it in many, many weeks – can make you feel like an abject failure. I spent the rest of the day only a breath away from sudden surges of anxiety and panic, convinced that I was completely broken and in no way able to do this 50K in only a little more than a month. I stretched, I took some antinflammatories, and I stretched some more, but mostly…I freaked.

Monday was Memorial Day, and I wasn’t scheduled to run. Instead, I woke up early to beautiful, cooler weather, and I decided to hop on my bike and enjoy. I rode to several cemeteries, taking in the flags and decorations; at points, I saw people decorating the graves, at least a few of whom appeared to be personally mourning a loved one. The concept of “Happy Memorial Day,” as some folks use it, makes me uncomfortable; Memorial Day is full of mixed feelings for me, as I think of all those souls lost, freely given or not. My father is a veteran, as was my grandfather. The day isn’t about barbecues or the opening of swimming pools; it’s about service and the commemoration of those who’ve served in ways I can’t begin to fully comprehend. Seeing the rows upon rows of flags over burial mounds drives that home, and riding through the cemeteries allowed me to step outside of myself and gain perspective.

And then we went to a parade, where we got a bit drenched with rain. Would have felt wrong to leave, though.

So I was feeling a bit more balanced when I woke this morning, prepared to run, prepared to see where I stood with my IT band. And I was ready to do that, feeling optimistic, right until just before I headed out the door. I checked my email. I saw this. Along with many, many other parents, I’ve been praying for Henry since his overdose and attack – praying for a miracle, praying for strength and peace for his family. Reading of his passing felt like the bottom dropping out of my stomach. I ran out the door. My IT band was fine (oddly, the left one started whimpering a bit on the way home), but my mind wasn’t on it. My legs can run, but another mama’s baby never will again. Perspective.

Hug your babies today. Take time to appreciate what their bodies, and yours, can do. Don’t take anything for granted. This morning, I have life, and I have liberty, and I have healthy children, and…just so, so much, and I am in tears – tears for Katie and for Henry and for other mother of other lost babies, in graves with flags or in coffins so small it shouldn’t be possible.



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/01/highs-and-lows/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/20/marathon-photos-up/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/20/marathon-photos-up/#comments Thu, 20 May 2010 18:32:14 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1431 Continue reading →]]> One thing about doing a race for a training run: you get photos. You also get evidence that, despite your efforts to the contrary, you are clenching your opposite fist when you carry something balled up in your opposite hand. I’ll probably take the time at aid stations at Devil’s Lake to stash the arm warmers in my pack instead of carrying them.



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/20/marathon-photos-up/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/18/race-report-green-bay-marathon/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/18/race-report-green-bay-marathon/#comments Tue, 18 May 2010 13:58:33 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1424 Continue reading →]]> That. Was. FUN!

We got back in last night, and I am still riding the high from the weekend’s events. Things went perfectly according to plan! I went into this race viewing it as a training run, not a hill on which to die, and that’s what I got out of it. I felt awesome afterward, and today’s initial post-race run went beautifully, with no more soreness than I’d expect to feel after any other hard weekend of training.

On Saturday, both boys ran the Kids’ Power Run, a 1K race associated with the marathon. They had separate age-grouped waves, and Sam ran his alone about an hour before I had to run Gabe’s with him. Sam got a side stitch and stomach cramp pretty early on (probably not aided by wolfing down a huge muffin just before heading to the starting line), but he soldiered on and did his utmost to finish strong. Gabe got increasingly impatient as his turn approached, and he even got a bit nervous at the start line. Then the air horn sounded, and he burst onto the course as though it was a 100-meter dash. Naturally, he, too, got his own side stitch. He toughed it out, giving high fives to everybody he passed on the way to the finish line, and then he chugged a bunch of Gatorade (a beverage to which he now pledges allegiance). Both kids got rubber medals, which is awesome, I think.

Sunday morning, I hopped out of bed and geared myself up in everything I’d use for a training run, which had the effect of making me look a bit over-prepared. I heard a few people waiting in the Lambeau Field Atrium with me saying I looked as though I was going to run an ultra; it was better when they actually said as much directly to me, as though in a joke, so I could reply that, yes, that was the general eventual idea. I met up with the four-hour pace group, who were wonderfully friendly, and chatted with the leaders, two of whom were also ultrarunners. They understood immediately about my plan, which was encouraging.

It was warmer than I would have liked, but otherwise, the day was lovely. We all laughed and talked as we ran; within a few miles, another runner named Maria and I had formed a sort of alliance to get each other through. She was dealing with an ankle issue, and I let her know that I had a topical pain killer in my pack, should she need it. We slapped high fives at every mile marker, and those miles seemed to fly by! We carried each other for nearly nineteen miles, before she had to stop to use a bathroom and told me to go ahead.

After that, I latched onto Gordy, the most aggressive of the three pace group leaders. It wasn’t so much that I felt like being aggressive, but he was highly entertaining in his enthusiasm, and I decided that was just what the doctor ordered. For the rest of the race, I stuck with him, and the miles melted away. Near the end, I felt a little tired, and I fell behind him a bit, but not very much, and I wound up crossing the finish line at 3:57:45 – not a PR (I wasn’t aiming for one, of course!), but the most solid finish I’ve had at a marathon yet! It gave me a ton of confidence for heading into Devil’s Lake in eight weeks!

I never did get to see Maria again, though I waited at the reunion sign for her last name for a while. (When calling out for her last name, I forgot to also ask whether she was going to be at the sign, meeting family or friends. D’oh!) I did give her this URL, though, so…Maria, if you read this, drop me a line! I loved running with you! And Gordy: I didn’t give you my URL, but if by chance you come across this, I need to give you my thanks, as well. You made the race experience a total blast and success for me, and I can’t convey how much I appreciate it. Thank you!

So…one more race (the Lighthouse 10-miler) coming up, and then it’s ultra time. I feel jazzed! Of course, I still have three more really big training runs left, and they won’t have pace groups to help. Onward and upward!



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/18/race-report-green-bay-marathon/feed/ 3 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/14/okay-here-we-go/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/14/okay-here-we-go/#comments Fri, 14 May 2010 17:29:43 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1422 Continue reading →]]> Gotta get through:
- Laundry, packing, last-minute house prep
- 2.5 hour car trip with two young kids
- Kids’ race tomorrow (run with Gabe)
- 26.2 on Sunday morning

Really, what’s it say that the road trips up and back intimidate me as much as the actual running? Not to mention the packing and trying not to forget anything. Travel races are rough that way.

Last night, Sam asked what else we’d be doing there. “The Expo, for one thing,” I told him.

“What’s an expo?”
“It’s a…” I floundered, trying to multi-task unsuccessfully and subsequently losing my ability to communicate. “A thing.”
“Oh. I think I’ve been to something just like that,” he replied, without a hint of giggle.
“GO TO SLEEP.”

If anybody cares to track me, which you can do via text message or email, my bib number will be 1301. I’m not entirely sure what my finishing time will look like, since it’ll be warm, but maybe not too warm? I plan to stick with the four-hour pace group, but I’m not dying on that hill; if the weather warms up and I feel like it would deplete me too much to try to stay with them, I’ll fall back with no regrets. This is NOT my A Race. I have to have some reserves in the tank, finishing strong, ready to keep moving. This is a training run.

1 Corinthians 9:26
“Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air.”




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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/14/okay-here-we-go/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/02/its-like-a-heat-wave/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/02/its-like-a-heat-wave/#comments Sun, 02 May 2010 21:57:25 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1407 Continue reading →]]> Lots of people out there running this weekend in warm weather. It was pretty brutal back east, I understand, for a couple of friends I had running races there. In these parts, it was in the 70s, which is bad enough when running for any length of time. My 22-miler yesterday was harder than it needed to be, even, considering that I screwed up hydration again; when I took what I expected to be a nearly empty 64-ounce bladder out of my hydration pack, I found it was still almost halfway full. Gee, no wonder I felt like I was going to throw up around the 20-mile mark. At least I finished, without losing my breakfast and without collapsing. I probably could even have gutted out the extra miles to have made it a full marathon, but I’m glad I didn’t have to put that to a test. I really think carrying a handheld bottle with an electrolyte solution, besides my hydration pack, for Devil’s Lake is going to be a good idea. I don’t really like carrying a bottle, but it does remind me to drink more often, and I can always ditch it at an aid station later in the game, once I’m assured that things are going to be fine.

Just mowed the back yard. Another sign of warm weather’s return, and certainly one I could do without. Yuck. I could so live in a place without a yard, happily and contentedly, for the rest of my life. I don’t like gardening, I don’t like maintaining green space, and I really don’t like getting sweaty and dirty for what I see as a not very good reason. Nature should be able to take care of itself, as far as I’m concerned. But then Eric reminds me of bugs and rodents and other things that would also love for us to just let nature tend to itself around our house, and, well, out comes the mower. (And my bad attitude.)

Hey, speaking of nature, just a little bit ago, Sam and his neighborhood friends started frantically ringing our doorbell; apparently, a “crazy squirrel” was chasing them! And there it was, sitting on the steps of our porch: a baby squirrel, obviously very confused and not at all inclined to scurry off, no matter what noises Eric made at it. (I sat safely on the other side of the porch window, having seen America’s Funniest Home Videos enough to know what could happen next. Wildlife is wild, y’all.) He picked up a chair as though he was going to…bullfight it? Man, do I wish my camera batteries hadn’t been dead. Anyway, the squirrel was even more confused, and it ducked its little head down a step, while still maintaining an obvious curiosity about what this man would do next. A moment later, two neighbors strode up, drinks in hand. One held out an elbow to the squirrel…and it climbed on. According to the guy, this squirrel, among a group of other baby squirrels, was orphaned, so they were gathering them up. He walked away with it perched on his arm. I was too slow on the uptake to ask where he was taking it.

Weird, weird world, come the middle months.



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/02/its-like-a-heat-wave/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/30/hmph/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/30/hmph/#comments Fri, 30 Apr 2010 20:16:45 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1405 Continue reading →]]> Was gorgeous and warm this morning – upper 60s into the lower 70s, beautiful sun, a nice breeze. I decided, on the spur of the moment, to go for a bike ride instead of heading right to the gym after dropping Gabe off at school. Of course, as it was the first bike ride of the season, I first had to check my tires…which involved a Learning Opportunity for me. Hey, non-bike-riding friends! Did you know there are two different kinds of tire valves? And skinnier bike tires have a different kind than the “regular” (thick) tires you find on kids’ bikes – or, likely, on the kind you probably had on whatever bike on which you tooled around when you were young? Yeah, I don’t know how I’ve managed to go this long without checking the air pressure on this bike’s tires, but I guess I never have, because these were some weird-looking valve stems I’ve never seen before. (Presta, they’re called. The more you know…) I wound up checking the internet for videos and phoning my brother for help.

But once I was out, it was a glorious day for a ride. Did have an interesting moment when I stopped for lunch. I went into a restaurant, and the table kept vibrating unnervingly under my forearms. I remarked to the waitress that I hadn’t thought the roads were that bumpy, that I should be dealing with the reverberations so long after I stopped riding, and she told me that that particular table vibrated, due to something on the other side of the wall.

Now it’s feeling a little chillier, due to wind picking up, so I came home and checked the weather site…and there’s a Tornado Watch until 8 this evening. Yay? Some storms are supposed to crop up around 7, turn into real gangbusters later on, and then (HOPEFULLY!) disappear in time for my friends’ marathon and my own long run tomorrow morning. Going to be a warm one for that sort of running, but that’s better than storms or tornadoes…which will also HOPEFULLY not re-arise tomorrow afternoon or evening and make Eric’s return in any way complicated. Up with that, I will not put!

Trying one of these for the first time, in Cherry Pomegranate. It’s mushier than the picture indicates, with less delineation between the fruit and the crust. I think I like it better this way. It reminds me a lot of Larabars, except that since I sometimes find the dates overpowering in those (except in the peanut butter varieties), this is a pleasant alternative! Go, Clif! (Wish your pace teams were doing Green Bay. )



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/30/hmph/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/26/a-running-update/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/26/a-running-update/#comments Mon, 26 Apr 2010 13:43:46 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1396 Continue reading →]]> Twenty days to Green Bay; seventy-five to Devil’s Lake. So far, training has been going really well; I haven’t had to miss any planned runs, and all systems are working in order. I know there’s still a ways to go, in which anything at all could happen, but I’m feeling optimistic.

Almost hit a snag a couple of days ago, when I suddenly realized that I’d completely forgotten to reserve a hotel for Green Bay weekend. Talk about leaving things until the last minute! Thankfully, several host hotels still had rooms, so I was able to get into one where a bus will be able to pick me up marathon morning to take me to the start line; I was worried I’d have missed the boat on that and would have to figure out how to get there without disrupting the family’s ability to drive to the course later. Phew! I still haven’t reserved the hotel for Devil’s Lake, though; need to get on that, but Eric has ideas there, so I’ll probably wait until he gets home from his trip (he’s in Germany…again…).

The Germany trip is a big fat bummer for many reasons, of course, but one of them is this weekend’s running. I’m scheduled for a 22-miler on Saturday, which I just can’t see doing with boys in tow. I had considered doing them as part of the Wisconsin Marathon, until I remembered that Eric wouldn’t be home until later in the afternoon. I’m left with the option of doing them the next day or Saturday evening. Haven’t decided yet! Either way, I’m considering doing them at a local nature preserve with trails. It might be a good idea to do them Saturday afternoon and into the evening, which would give me practice at the end of doing trails on tired legs and with a flashlight and headlamp. Also, there’s a better chance of rain on Sunday than Saturday, so I’d be better off doing them earlier. I guess it’ll depend on what time Eric gets home, exactly.

Finally, I messed up, during a bit of familial upheaval over the past few weeks, and missed my opportunity to register for the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon this fall. Nuts! Now what? I was really hoping for a local race, to cut back on costs. Eric halfheartedly suggested Air Force, which I’d decided against for the travel aspect. I debated the Haunted Hustle marathon in Madison, too, which is on Halloween and sounds like fun. On the other hand, the Glacial 50K is eleven weeks after Devil’s Lake, which is the exact amount of time the first training plan I consulted figured I’d need to be ready. Coincidence? Hmmm. Whatever I do, I’ll need to pick soon; seems like marathons are the hottest trend these days, the way they’re filling up so fast.

(Oh, and Kate tapped me for a possible Ragnar team next year. )



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/26/a-running-update/feed/ 6 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/14/i-have-nothing-new-to-say/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/14/i-have-nothing-new-to-say/#comments Wed, 14 Apr 2010 18:05:54 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1373 Continue reading →]]> Not that there’s nothing going on; it’s just that most of it is “second verse, same as the first” type stuff. The kids are back in school following their break, and that’s going well. (Whoops, I have to get a tee-shirt to take in for Gabe’s preschool graduation ceremony that I’m “not allowed to know about!”) Sam has a field trip to a Renaissance Fair tomorrow, as a kickoff to their grade’s big unit study of the Renaissance period, and Eric and I got the same cocked brow when we heard about it. I’ve decided to view it along the lines of a celebratory party instead of believing that the teachers can possibly have any thought that this is educational or in any way historically accurate. (Have to remember to send along money for Ye Olde Chicken Nuggets and Lemonade.)

I was pretty beat up following the half-marathon on Saturday, and I rounded it off with a stupid decision not to take along water for my 10-mile recovery run the next day, on a relatively warm afternoon. Needless to say, I wasn’t feeling at the top of my game for a couple of days after that. Maybe that’ll fill my quota for self-inflicted damage for a while? Crossing fingers and eyeing the toes that by all rights should have surrendered and fallen clean off my feet, for all the times I’ve rammed them them into solid objects…

Got an appointment in a few hours with some fence repair folks. Ours is sagging and pulling away from the posts in the back, a few of which (according to the folks who came yesterday to give an estimate) are broken themselves. This will be the second estimate; I sure do hope it’s a lower number than the one we got yesterday, which made Eric mutter some very choice words. If we keep getting high numbers, I get the feeling it’ll be just us and a drill out there, showing off our very best kludgemanship.



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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/14/i-have-nothing-new-to-say/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/10/race-report-mount-pleasant-half-marathon/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/10/race-report-mount-pleasant-half-marathon/#comments Sat, 10 Apr 2010 16:50:59 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1361 Continue reading →]]> Okay, I went out too fast; let’s get that out of the way first. For the future, when I do the marathon+-length training runs in a race setting, I NEED to find somebody going my pace and STICK with them, because I obviously can’t be trusted. I managed to hold it longer than I thought I could, but I was hurting by the end. (Almost had a repeat of my “I can’t breathe” episode from the end of MCM, but this time I forced myself to keep walking at a good pace after the finish line, and my air came back.)

Gorgeous day, lovely and sunny and just right in temperature, but the wind was pretty wretched, especially on the southward segments. Yeow. Those exhausted me more than the pace, just about.

Took one gel at the hour mark, along with race course water. Worked well, and I never felt really depleted beyond what was predictable.

So! Official finish time: 1:46:43. Came in 6th in my age group (out of 43) and 48/348 overall. Took 5 minutes off my “PR” (from the WW Festival of Races last year, the only other half I’ve done). Not bad for a day’s work, but tomorrow’s recovery run is going to be VERY, VERY easy.

Oh! Forgot one of the funniest parts! I just missed the start of the kids’ Fun Run, and though I thought to try to catch up, I could see Eric and Sam moving on the far side of the course’s 1-mile loop, and I knew that at my shuffling pace, I couldn’t make it. So I turned around, walked back to the finish…and there was Gabe running up to the finish line. “Did I win?” he panted. I stared over his shoulder and asked where Daddy was. “I dunno!” he said.

Turned out that Gabe ran the course about half a mile in front of Eric and Sam, leading the group with one other woman. So…yes. Yes, you did win, Gabriel. (His prize: the free ice cream Georgie Porgie’s restaurant was handing out. I think that beat a medal in his mind, no contest.)



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