This past Sunday I went out for my first 10-mile run in about 9 months. In the days leading up to it, I found myself feeling pretty damn nervous. Now, if you really knew me, you’d know that prior to my hamstring/IT band injury in July 2009, a Saturday with a 10-miler was an ‘easy week.’ I was ahead of schedule training for NYC 2009, and had been getting faster every week. I even clocked an 8:30-min mile pace for a 4.5 mile race around Lake Merced in SF in early July. Hell, even for a while after the hamstring pull, a 10-miler was a reasonable distance, manageable at a slower pace to accommodate my healing hammy.
And then came the weekend after the San Jose Rock ‘n’ Roll Half, and a 16-miler to keep me upping my mileage to be on track (more or less) for NYC. After feeling good throughout the whole R’n’R Half (gotta love that adrenaline… and BioFreeze), I was sure that I was up to snuff and would be fine for the upcoming NYC Marathon on November 1, 2009. I had been diligently attending PT, doing cross-training workouts in the pool, and really being ‘good’ to my body, to coax it back to its fighting weight, so to speak. What could go wrong, right…?
Um, how much time do you have?? That 16-miler was the worst run of my life, worse by far than the run that initially caused me to pull back and start doing PT for my hamstring/IT band. By mile 12, it was all I could do to not burst into tears – I had spasms running through both of my legs and back, I couldn’t breathe (probably the product of the tear-holding-backedness), and was seriously entertaining the idea of having to just stop on the side of the road and hope that someone would come and give me a ride home, since there was no way in hell I could have run back home (my starting point). I started running through who I could call (I did have my cell), but was afraid to call anyone because it was pretty early on a Saturday (looking back now, it had to be at least 10am), and I didn’t want to disturb anyone’s post-Friday, ideally hangover-prevention sleep…. So, I finally just told myself to STOP running. And WALK, for crying out loud! So, I did. It was about 3.5 miles back to my house, and I hobbled back alone, in serious pain, and feeling unbelievably defeated. I can’t remember if I took an ice bath, all I remember is showering, getting ready to head to Sebastopol for the weekend (getaway with the now-ex b.f.), and pushing the growing sense of dread out of my head. The dread that said “there is no way I’ll be able to run this marathon. My body is just not ready to do that yet. I need to just admit that I can’t do it now, if I ever want to run again.”
Fast forward another week, and while on another trip to Sebastopol, I had a "come-to-Jesus" of sorts with my running coach over the phone, where she said, "Honey, you just have to pass on it this year. You CAN run it next year. You HAVE to run it next year. It's just not the right time for you." I cried the whole time, and for a loooooooong while after we hung up, and just had to accept that this was really the only sane choice I could make.
(((cue montage of: me avoiding my friends who were in NYC to run the marathon while I was also in NYC; me breaking up with my aforementioned boyfriend; various seasonal changes; me taking some SERIOUS time off from running.... like, 3+ months; me trying, and LOVING Bikram Yoga; me finally getting up the cajones to run on the treadmill again, thanks to my PIC; me taking the risk and planning a weekly running date with a friend who is faster than me, and asking to run at my pace; me planning out my 10-mile run a few days prior; me doubleknotting my Asics, in preparation for the 10-mile run; me leaving my house...)))
The first 6 miles went off without a hitch. Kept at a 9min run/1min walk training pace, and felt good. Took my Gu (Strawberry-Banana... so delicious) at Mile 5 and felt a new surge of sugar-induced energy. Mile 6.3 or so, I'm coming around a loop, toward a downhill (one that I've run both up and down more times than I can count), and out of nowhere, I kick a tree root and quiet simply, eat shit. I don't even know how I landed, exactly, but the sweaty-dirty-bloody spots on my arm, leg, and (later) my right torso, gave me a vague idea.
In an instant, my Zen was shattered. I felt embarrassed, pissed off, and discouraged. Physically, I was in pain. A couple of people asked how I was, and I grumbled, "well, I think I'll know better tomorrow." In short, I was not a happy camper. I took a couple of big deep breaths, and said to myself, "All right, sister, this is it. It's put up or shut up time. Shit happens AND you still have a run to finish. " So, a la Swing Time, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and started again.
The last few miles were actually a breeze. I felt proud about refocusing and finishing my run. My post-run cleanup was slightly more labor intensive than normal, but I managed to get my scraped arm cleaned and bandaged (it was already starting to scab!).
I was thinking about "The Fall' later that day, and sharing the story with a friend, and realized that it was a powerful parallel for me and my life. Often times in life tree roots (literal or figurative) seemingly come up out of nowhere, and trip us up along the way. It can be discouraging, disheartening, and downright infuriating, but all those feelings are not productive in moving forward, past the tree root, past the fall, past the blood and scrapes and pain that will eventually fade into a faint and distant memory. The lesson for me, as always, is to focus on what you do with that setback, how you move forward. How you look back at that scab, that torn piece of your shirt, and smile, saying, "Ahhh yes, it's not the end of the world. But rather another opportunity to keep growing."
Given the myriad challenges rearing their heads in front of me as of late, a pesky little tree root is nothing. And frankly, it ain't got nothing on me.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
"You don't work on the yoga...
...the yoga works on you."
My lovely & courageous friend, Kate (http://www.yourcourageouslife.com/) shared this thought with me yesterday. And it's been swirling around in my head since then. It seems like a lovely idea, and I began to wonder if perhaps it was as true for me as it has been for Kate.
But perhaps I am getting slightly ahead of myself...
About a week and a half ago, Kate graciously invited me to come with her to Funky Door Yoga (www.funkydooryoga.com) in Berkeley for a Bikram Yoga class. In fact, she gifted me with a month's worth of yoga, which I humbly accepted with tremendous gratitude and awe. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I'm the kind of person that will pretty much try anything once, so why not, right? Plus, my ongoing struggle with hamstring pain that's cramped (read: stopped altogether) my running routine leaves me even more open to other options for breaking a sweat.
Wednesday morning. Its about 45 degrees outdoors & 105 degrees indoors. I'm wearing a snug bra-top & shorts that I previously wouldn't have been caught dead in outside of my apartment. Oh, and did I mention that it's 6am??? The instructor welcomes me warmly (seems appropriate, right?) and gives me one task - to simply stay in the room for the entire 90 minutes. Challenge accepted, and I'm happy to report, challenge accomplished!
The class was an exercise in facing many challenges, both physical & mental, head-on. As someone who constantly compares herself to others, this was the opportunity to notice what other people were doing (often holding the poses more correctly than me, but not always), and simply say to myself, "Oh, now I get it. My arms need to be here. And my hips need to be there."
This is a FAR cry from my norm, which usually goes something like this, "God, I'm never going to be able to do it as well as that girl - look at her abs! I'll never have a core that's strong enough. And who the hell does this guy over here think he is? How in the hell can I ever expect to pull my right leg up 90 f-ing degrees while standing on the left one?! I might as well just quit now."
I'm proud to say that while some of that old self-defeatist attitude crept in at the start, it quickly melted away, leaving lots of room for accepting myself exactly as I was.
Hmmmmmm... I think that maybe I could really start to like this "practice."
So, after class, I'm feeling so good about myself (in spite of not being able to do all the poses very well, if at all, and the myriad places in my body where I felt stretching & pulling like never before), that I tell Kate that I'm coming back on Friday. And I do! And it's even better!
Over the weekend, I meet a new friend, Alexia, a fellow runner who also struggled with hamstring/IT band issues in the past. Out of the blue, she says to me, "Oh, you have a bum hamstring, too? You know what saved me? Bikram Yoga!"
Oh, you Universe, how wonderfully synchronous you are. You knew that I needed a "reason" to justify to myself that something as "self-indulgent" as yoga is really exactly what I need - another way for me to take care of myself first! And to LOVE MY BODY just as it is! And to feel hopeful about my nagging injury! And to see that "normal" people do yoga, not just the crazy-hippie-dippy types! And, and, and.... :)
Another layer to the synchronicity of it all? Monday morning, not-so-bright but verrrrrry early at 6am, Kate's beautiful face is looking at me outside the hot room, and her voice is sharing with me that Bikram is the "Marathon of Yoga." Further proof that the universe is truly unfolding exactly as it should.
And verdict on original proposition: It is working on me.
p.s. Currently on day 3 of a self-imposed 5-days-in-a-row Bikram goal. Boo-yaaaaaah.
p.p.s. Who wouldn't want a piece of this?
My lovely & courageous friend, Kate (http://www.yourcourageouslife.com/) shared this thought with me yesterday. And it's been swirling around in my head since then. It seems like a lovely idea, and I began to wonder if perhaps it was as true for me as it has been for Kate.
But perhaps I am getting slightly ahead of myself...
About a week and a half ago, Kate graciously invited me to come with her to Funky Door Yoga (www.funkydooryoga.com) in Berkeley for a Bikram Yoga class. In fact, she gifted me with a month's worth of yoga, which I humbly accepted with tremendous gratitude and awe. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I'm the kind of person that will pretty much try anything once, so why not, right? Plus, my ongoing struggle with hamstring pain that's cramped (read: stopped altogether) my running routine leaves me even more open to other options for breaking a sweat.
Wednesday morning. Its about 45 degrees outdoors & 105 degrees indoors. I'm wearing a snug bra-top & shorts that I previously wouldn't have been caught dead in outside of my apartment. Oh, and did I mention that it's 6am??? The instructor welcomes me warmly (seems appropriate, right?) and gives me one task - to simply stay in the room for the entire 90 minutes. Challenge accepted, and I'm happy to report, challenge accomplished!
The class was an exercise in facing many challenges, both physical & mental, head-on. As someone who constantly compares herself to others, this was the opportunity to notice what other people were doing (often holding the poses more correctly than me, but not always), and simply say to myself, "Oh, now I get it. My arms need to be here. And my hips need to be there."
This is a FAR cry from my norm, which usually goes something like this, "God, I'm never going to be able to do it as well as that girl - look at her abs! I'll never have a core that's strong enough. And who the hell does this guy over here think he is? How in the hell can I ever expect to pull my right leg up 90 f-ing degrees while standing on the left one?! I might as well just quit now."
I'm proud to say that while some of that old self-defeatist attitude crept in at the start, it quickly melted away, leaving lots of room for accepting myself exactly as I was.
Hmmmmmm... I think that maybe I could really start to like this "practice."
So, after class, I'm feeling so good about myself (in spite of not being able to do all the poses very well, if at all, and the myriad places in my body where I felt stretching & pulling like never before), that I tell Kate that I'm coming back on Friday. And I do! And it's even better!
Over the weekend, I meet a new friend, Alexia, a fellow runner who also struggled with hamstring/IT band issues in the past. Out of the blue, she says to me, "Oh, you have a bum hamstring, too? You know what saved me? Bikram Yoga!"
Oh, you Universe, how wonderfully synchronous you are. You knew that I needed a "reason" to justify to myself that something as "self-indulgent" as yoga is really exactly what I need - another way for me to take care of myself first! And to LOVE MY BODY just as it is! And to feel hopeful about my nagging injury! And to see that "normal" people do yoga, not just the crazy-hippie-dippy types! And, and, and.... :)
Another layer to the synchronicity of it all? Monday morning, not-so-bright but verrrrrry early at 6am, Kate's beautiful face is looking at me outside the hot room, and her voice is sharing with me that Bikram is the "Marathon of Yoga." Further proof that the universe is truly unfolding exactly as it should.
And verdict on original proposition: It is working on me.
p.s. Currently on day 3 of a self-imposed 5-days-in-a-row Bikram goal. Boo-yaaaaaah.
p.p.s. Who wouldn't want a piece of this?
Friday, December 12, 2008
Body Piercing Saved My Life
*Note* This was originally written sometime in 2006 or 07.*
While driving the other day, I found myself waiting on a left turn light behind a truck bearing a license plate frame stating, "Body piercing saved my life." Now, I have to say that initially I scoffed at such a silly notion. Body piercing? A savior? Please. Not possible. Not even close. But then, as I turned left and continued along my way, I continued to ponder not only the license plate frame but also the idea of being saved in a larger sense...
Could something as simple as body piercing save someone's life? Let's start with a general question: What constitutes saving? Does it inherently signify an act which makes someone physicalIy (or perhaps mentally) safe? Is it merely changing in some specific way, whether significant or trivial? Perhaps it is a catalyst that allows for a complete overhaul of one's lifestyle, ideology, or circumstances...
We hear so often from various people (Christians, mostly, but many others as well) that being saved is necessary for your soul. If you leave this earth without being saved, then that life, in some ways, was really for naught. This of course scares a fair amount of people who may scramble towards the end of their life to attain the rank of Saved, but can this motivation be enough to constitute genuine saving? The rationale for such a search is weak and should be discounted as dishonest and superficial. Indeed, there are many people in the world who would not consider themselves "saved" who live good lives and, should there be an afterlife where rewards for such lives are reaped, would undoubtedly be part of those who benefit from said rewards.
Back to the license plate frame -- Can something as simple as body art/self expression enable someone to alter their state of being in such a way that they feel the need to share their "secret" with the rest of the world? Should we all be looking into body piercing as a way to make our lives better, more meaningful, more fulfilling? Or should we read such a statement from another angle entirely .. perhaps the person was receiving a piercing and had some sort of revelation that just happened to coincide with the piercing appointment? Maybe they originally went in for a tattoo, changed their mind, and as a result did not contract Hepatitis or HIV.
Maybe the born-agains, the Buddhists, and Bob Greene have got it all wrong -maybe all we need to live our best life is a tongue ring or an eyebrow bar. Something tells me that I'm probably just reading way too much into something.
While driving the other day, I found myself waiting on a left turn light behind a truck bearing a license plate frame stating, "Body piercing saved my life." Now, I have to say that initially I scoffed at such a silly notion. Body piercing? A savior? Please. Not possible. Not even close. But then, as I turned left and continued along my way, I continued to ponder not only the license plate frame but also the idea of being saved in a larger sense...
Could something as simple as body piercing save someone's life? Let's start with a general question: What constitutes saving? Does it inherently signify an act which makes someone physicalIy (or perhaps mentally) safe? Is it merely changing in some specific way, whether significant or trivial? Perhaps it is a catalyst that allows for a complete overhaul of one's lifestyle, ideology, or circumstances...
We hear so often from various people (Christians, mostly, but many others as well) that being saved is necessary for your soul. If you leave this earth without being saved, then that life, in some ways, was really for naught. This of course scares a fair amount of people who may scramble towards the end of their life to attain the rank of Saved, but can this motivation be enough to constitute genuine saving? The rationale for such a search is weak and should be discounted as dishonest and superficial. Indeed, there are many people in the world who would not consider themselves "saved" who live good lives and, should there be an afterlife where rewards for such lives are reaped, would undoubtedly be part of those who benefit from said rewards.
Back to the license plate frame -- Can something as simple as body art/self expression enable someone to alter their state of being in such a way that they feel the need to share their "secret" with the rest of the world? Should we all be looking into body piercing as a way to make our lives better, more meaningful, more fulfilling? Or should we read such a statement from another angle entirely .. perhaps the person was receiving a piercing and had some sort of revelation that just happened to coincide with the piercing appointment? Maybe they originally went in for a tattoo, changed their mind, and as a result did not contract Hepatitis or HIV.
Maybe the born-agains, the Buddhists, and Bob Greene have got it all wrong -maybe all we need to live our best life is a tongue ring or an eyebrow bar. Something tells me that I'm probably just reading way too much into something.
"It's a Marathon, not a Sprint."
This is a speech I gave to my classmates, reflecting upon almost 2 years of unimaginable growth during graduate school. I gave it on Thursday, June 12, 2008.
Recently a fellow classmate commented that graduate school is a marathon, not a sprint, as it is indeed not for the weak. It is a true test of endurance and requires a special ability to stay the course. I continued to ruminate on this idea afterward, and began to understand how truly accurate such a statement is.
About 5 months ago, I began running. Now, I had made several half-hearted attempts at developing an exercise regimen, but those typically fizzled out midway through workout number one. But for some reason, I felt compelled to be more disciplined and really do it this time! I was fortunate to have my best friend, Christina, to help me out. She happily became my personal coach and cheerleader, designing a training schedule that even I could follow.
The running started very slow at first, not unlike how the beginning of graduate school was for most of us – at least as far as our comfort level was concerned. We were unsure of out footing, our ability, our credentials for even being here at all! But after a few months, and eventually with a few quarters under our belts, we began to feel more confident about the stride we were hitting, and began to challenge ourselves further, much the way my training went from half-mile runs to 4 or 5 mile runs multiple times a week!
Even as we began to feel more qualified and comfortable in our new role as students and professionals, there were indeed some tough choices to be made. To be sure, running and graduate school are individual pursuits. Both can sometimes take you along a solitary road if your family and friends are not on it with you, making it difficult at times to choose between spending time with them or working toward your goal. Thankfully, however, you are not completely alone. This unique and intense experience creates a tremendous bond with the others who are along the route, and even if you only ever knew a person's name, you will always know that person traveled a parallel path with you along this amazing journey, and you both ended up at the finish line.
The course requires prior preparation by others, like faculty and staff or race organizers, to provide accurate information about paper criteria and midterm guidelines or elevation gains and road conditions. Much behind the scenes work must happen, to ensure the copies are made, the water stations are available along the way, and that the requisite amount of cheerleaders are there along the way to keep you inspired to continue.
As you look around you at the people along the course with you, you can't help but notice that some people seems to complete it effortlessly, without so much as breaking a sweat. Others seem to struggle throughout, battling aches and pains, roadblocks, and any number of other obstacles along the way. Some days the last thing you want to do is work toward your goal, and other days you feel strong, efficient, and inspired to tackle whatever task awaits your best effort. Indeed, at times your best-laid plans to maintain an 8 minute mile pace or complete a 20-page paper ahead of schedule are thwarted half a mile into a run, or two sentences in the paper. It could be due to a leg cramp or writer's block, a serious injury or a personal crisis, or simply an offer to do something that is exponentially more "fun" and less "work." Other days, however, you may surprise yourself with an A on a paper you weren't so sure about, or completing a run in a personal record time, and you remember why you began pursuing this goal in the first place.
Despite the challenges inherent in such a pursuit, there are many upsides as well. Often you unwittingly inspire others to join in your new lifestyle, and find yourself inspired once again in your own quest for personal growth. I experienced this in both areas, as two close friends of mine began graduate school after I did, and a couple of my friends have come to me for help on how to begin their own running regimen!!
Everyone starts at the same starting line, all with different levels of training and preparation. As such, while the final destination may be the same, the speed or overall experience is going to be unique to each person along the course. I cannot say that my experience at Loma Linda was the same as anyone else's in our program, but I do know that I did my best to continue growing, even against some tremendous personal odds. Last Saturday I completed my first half-marathon and am looking toward completing a full marathon in November. As I am completing my Master's degree, I am also beginning to look at what educational pursuit I was consider next, either a doctorate or a law degree. As I crossed the finish line on Saturday with Christina by the side for the entire 13 miles, I was overcome with happiness, pride, and shock, in levels I had never experienced before. On the verge of tears, I began a cool down walk, and within a few minutes, I had a thought…. "That really wasn't bad at all! I could totally do that again!"
It's a bit of a trip, re-reading this, and considering how far I've come again, since June... pretty cool.
___________________________________________________________________Recently a fellow classmate commented that graduate school is a marathon, not a sprint, as it is indeed not for the weak. It is a true test of endurance and requires a special ability to stay the course. I continued to ruminate on this idea afterward, and began to understand how truly accurate such a statement is.
About 5 months ago, I began running. Now, I had made several half-hearted attempts at developing an exercise regimen, but those typically fizzled out midway through workout number one. But for some reason, I felt compelled to be more disciplined and really do it this time! I was fortunate to have my best friend, Christina, to help me out. She happily became my personal coach and cheerleader, designing a training schedule that even I could follow.
The running started very slow at first, not unlike how the beginning of graduate school was for most of us – at least as far as our comfort level was concerned. We were unsure of out footing, our ability, our credentials for even being here at all! But after a few months, and eventually with a few quarters under our belts, we began to feel more confident about the stride we were hitting, and began to challenge ourselves further, much the way my training went from half-mile runs to 4 or 5 mile runs multiple times a week!
Even as we began to feel more qualified and comfortable in our new role as students and professionals, there were indeed some tough choices to be made. To be sure, running and graduate school are individual pursuits. Both can sometimes take you along a solitary road if your family and friends are not on it with you, making it difficult at times to choose between spending time with them or working toward your goal. Thankfully, however, you are not completely alone. This unique and intense experience creates a tremendous bond with the others who are along the route, and even if you only ever knew a person's name, you will always know that person traveled a parallel path with you along this amazing journey, and you both ended up at the finish line.
The course requires prior preparation by others, like faculty and staff or race organizers, to provide accurate information about paper criteria and midterm guidelines or elevation gains and road conditions. Much behind the scenes work must happen, to ensure the copies are made, the water stations are available along the way, and that the requisite amount of cheerleaders are there along the way to keep you inspired to continue.
As you look around you at the people along the course with you, you can't help but notice that some people seems to complete it effortlessly, without so much as breaking a sweat. Others seem to struggle throughout, battling aches and pains, roadblocks, and any number of other obstacles along the way. Some days the last thing you want to do is work toward your goal, and other days you feel strong, efficient, and inspired to tackle whatever task awaits your best effort. Indeed, at times your best-laid plans to maintain an 8 minute mile pace or complete a 20-page paper ahead of schedule are thwarted half a mile into a run, or two sentences in the paper. It could be due to a leg cramp or writer's block, a serious injury or a personal crisis, or simply an offer to do something that is exponentially more "fun" and less "work." Other days, however, you may surprise yourself with an A on a paper you weren't so sure about, or completing a run in a personal record time, and you remember why you began pursuing this goal in the first place.
Despite the challenges inherent in such a pursuit, there are many upsides as well. Often you unwittingly inspire others to join in your new lifestyle, and find yourself inspired once again in your own quest for personal growth. I experienced this in both areas, as two close friends of mine began graduate school after I did, and a couple of my friends have come to me for help on how to begin their own running regimen!!
Everyone starts at the same starting line, all with different levels of training and preparation. As such, while the final destination may be the same, the speed or overall experience is going to be unique to each person along the course. I cannot say that my experience at Loma Linda was the same as anyone else's in our program, but I do know that I did my best to continue growing, even against some tremendous personal odds. Last Saturday I completed my first half-marathon and am looking toward completing a full marathon in November. As I am completing my Master's degree, I am also beginning to look at what educational pursuit I was consider next, either a doctorate or a law degree. As I crossed the finish line on Saturday with Christina by the side for the entire 13 miles, I was overcome with happiness, pride, and shock, in levels I had never experienced before. On the verge of tears, I began a cool down walk, and within a few minutes, I had a thought…. "That really wasn't bad at all! I could totally do that again!"
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Las Vegas Marathon 2008: Post-Race Recap
This is an attempt to recount the weekend of my First Marathon - Las Vegas 2008.
I arrived on Friday evening at Las Vegas airport, for Christina to pick me up. What she hadn't told me, though, was that she and Jennifer (another close friend and fellow Trojan) had been planning for weeks for Jen to be there, too!! As I came down the escalator, I saw them BOTH and I was so excited I knew it was going to be a great weekend! :)
From the airport, we went to dinner and then onto the Welch's house. The Welch's are friends of Christina and her family, and were such gracious hosts! Even with 5 kids and an obviously full load of responsibilities, they took it in stride that another 3 people were in the house, and made us feel right at home.
Saturday the three of us did a little shopping (but I was good - I mostly bought Christmas presents for other people!!) and then headed to the Mandalay Bay, the race staging area where I needed to pick up my bib & race packet. That's when the nerves really started to kick in - this race really was happening for me! I made some phone calls, to Michelle, Tyler, and my parents, in an attempt to calm those nerves. Jen and I cooked up a CARB-O-Licious dinner of penne pasta and french bread, and by 9pm, I layed down in bed, hoping to fall asleep soon.... My alarm was set for 3:45am!
I didn't sleep very well that night, as I kept waking up, convinced that it was time to get up, or even worse, that I had slept through the race!! By 3:30am I gave up and just got out of bed, and started to get ready. Jen, Christina, and I left at 4:30am to head to Mandalay Bay, and when we got there, it was as if it was the middle of the day! There were people everywhere, and the weather was surprisingly warm for Vegas in December. Having heard from others about previous years of very cold weather, I had layered up and prepared for the worst - but by race time, it was about 55 degrees and a little overcast, perfect weather for running! I was wearing three long-sleeved shirts over my regular running shirt, along with a technical headband to keep my ears warm and some stretchy gloves for my chronically cold hands. But I felt confident 'stripping down' to one long-sleeved and my running tee, and nixed the headband and gloves, too, knowing that my visor would be enough head-coverage.
I met a nice lady while waiting anxiously for the start of the race, who advised me to "take it slow" (more on that later), and told me to just have fun with it!! Minutes later, the race had officially begun, and a few minutes after that, I officially crossed the start line, to a huge display of fireworks, which lasted for about 15 minutes.
Jen and Christina were right alongside me as I got ready to cross, and I knew that I would see them a little bit later on. For anybody who's ever been to Las Vegas, you know how cool the Strip looks at night, as bright as day, with stuff to look at from every direction.... But if you'd never run on the Strip, you don't really understand how cool it is! There was so much to see that the first 3 or 4 miles went by amazingly fast - I was in amongst a mob of bodies and felt like my feet weren't even touching the ground!
I drank all the water in my fannypack water bottle right before the race (I could really feel the dryness of the desert!), so my bottle was empty to start. That was okay, though, because I had planned to fill it up at an aid station right away, so I'd have some. True to my plan, at Mile 3, I grabbed a few cups of water and filled my bottle up -- and just as I put the lid on, a guy bumped into me, throwing my bottle onto the ground! Eeek!! I did a quick little spin-move and managed to pick it up off the ground (not an easy feat for anyone, least of all someone like me, who is, shall we say- balanced-ly challenged? - at times) without falling down and kept moving in the right direction. That was really the only 'hitch' in an otherwise 'hitchless' race. Yee-haw!
I kept watching my pace on my watch, and it was fast (for me)... 8:30, 9:00, and I think at one point it might have even been under an 8:00-min mile pace. I didn't feel like I was even doing any work, yet, so it was hard to slow it down. At about the 5 or 5.5 mile mark, the course split between the Half-marathoners and the Full-marathoners, so our route curved around to the east of the Strip before taking us back Northwest toward Fremont St (the "original" Vegas). As we neared Fremont St., I was running next to 2 guys dressed as Elvis (there were hundreds of these, by the way), and asked, "So, like, honestly, what's the sweat factor in a polyester jumpsuit like that?" They turned, laughed, and then deadpanned: "Like a whore in church."
Couple of time reference points:
- 10K (6.2miles) 56:24
- @ 1:00 mark - 6.6 miles
At about the 9mile mark, I passed by a group of three young women with neon signs made for a friend they had in the race. I passed them by, proudly wearing my USC visor (courtesy of Lisa), and they all screamed,"Yah! Fight on, Trojans! You go, girl!" I was so excited, and threw up my victory signs for them. It was such a great little boost from strangers, that just really felt good. At this point, my body was really feeling great, I was maintaining about a 9:30-min mile pace and felt like I was really in the zone. The mile markers seemed to just be whizzing by me. I made sure to take a few drinks of water at every aid station (there was one at every mile marker), and was taking a Gu every 40 minutes, as well.
Jen, Christina, and I had decided on Saturday that I was going to "meet" them at the the 13mile mark, so that Christina could jump onto the course and run Miles 13-23 with me (she was not an officially registered runner, but rather my own personal cheerleader!). So as I quickly reached the 11 and then 12mile mark, I knew that I would see them very soon! About a half mile away from out rendezvous point, I spotted Jen, with her hot pink sweater, and waved my arms wildly! Christina told me later that she turned to Jen and said, "Oh, good, she's smiling, and waving- that's a good sign that she'll be in a good mood while we run together!" I came up on them, Jen snapped a few pictures, and Christina jumped into the street with me. Thumbs up, and we were off for our 10mile jaunt through North Las Vegas (which has an amazing view of the mountains, and by then the sun had started to come out, so the sights were really spectacular).
Another time reference point:
13 miles 2:05:35 (about 1 min off my 1/2 Half-Marathon time from 11.02.08)
Miles 13 through 16 flew by as Christina and I chatted while we ran, laughed, and made some friends with other runners. She had challenged me to make at least 5 friends while I was running, and I was proud to tell her that when she met me, I'd already made 7 (including the previously mentioned Elvii)!! By Mile 18, I could tell my pace was slowing, both by knowing my body and also according to my watch. We passed the Mile 18 aid station, and it was the best station of the entire race -- next to Bonanza High school, with students cheering for us all as we ran by, loud music, and just a really great vibe!! Christina and I rounded the next corner, and out of nowhere, I started to cry.
For whatever reason, Mile 18 is some kind of magic running number ("The Wall") and it can really wreak havoc on your mind, even when you're feeling great. As I began to cry and gasp for air, Christina told me to keep breathing, try to make my breathing regular again, and tell myself that my body was light, that I could keep moving. My legs felt so tired all of a sudden... but between Christina's calming and Coach Lori's words in my mind that I just needed to push through this spot and remind myself that reaching The Wall means that you're almost done, I was able to keep moving! A few seconds later, I felt like I had regained control of my mind, and said out loud, "Oh my God-I only have 8 more miles left!" And, I was smiling as I said it (Sidebar: post-race, Tyler asked me, "A year ago, would you have believed anyone if they told you would ever say that?!" Without hesitation, I said, "Hell no!" and I had thought the same thing the minute I had said it during the race. What a victory in itself!)!!
Miles 18 through 22 were okay, not fantastic, from a pace standpoint, but overall, my body still felt pretty good. There were thankfully a few slight downgrades (after a few very gradual but still noticeable up-grades earlier in the course), that really was a needed relief on my hamstrings. My right knee and ankle, which have historically been problematic for me on longer runs, were both remarkably well-behaved, and for that I was, of course, grateful. The three girls who had cheered for me earlier in the race re-appeared along the course, and cheered once more, shouting "Fight on! We'll see you at the finish line!" That was an awesome feeling, to see some more "familiar" faces, and gave me a little bit of a spring in my step. Christina was once again impressed with my 'friend-making' ability!
Just before the 23.5(ish)mile marker, where Christina would step off the course to rejoin Jen, I began to mentally fight myself about walking. I told Christina, and she reminded me that while it might feel like a break, my body would still be in pain - it would just mean that I wouldn't be moving as quickly. But she also told me that if I were to walk, it would not diminish the accomplishment of my race in the slightest (Tyler had told me the same thing, the night before). For the time being, at mile 23, I decided to keep re-evaluating every few seconds to see how I felt. I had run the whole race up to that point, I really hated the idea of not being able to keep it up for the last 3.2 miles!!
We spotted Jen at our second rendezvous point (Yay, hot pink sweater!), and Christina and I waved and smiled as we neared the spot. I honestly don't remember what Christina said to me as she was leaving, but a few minutes before that, she had told me to find a few people to keep an eye on, as a goal for maintaining my current pace, if at all possible (by now, I was running sub-11, but was struggling to even maintain that pace). This is where I realized what all the fuss from everyone about "taking it slow" really was good advice that should have been heeded - I had almost run out of steam. Jen and Christina ran on toward the finish line, to see me at the end, and I continued along, singing to myself, in Finding Nemo-fashion, "Just keep jogging, just keep jogging...."
I can't give any more time reference points here, as I just couldn't hold any more numbers in my head. I had been doing algebra the entire race, calculating how much time I still had and what kind of lee-way I needed to reach my goal.... But I do remember that when I had less than 3 miles left, I still had 40min, so that was yet another mini-victory!
By this point, the course had returned to the back of the Strip, the west side of Las Vegas Blvd., behind all the casinos... As you can imagine, not the most scenic of routes, as you pass by parking garage after parking garage on one side, and the I-15 freeway whizzes by you on the other. There were still lots of people scattered along the course, cheering, which helped as I began to really become fatigued. I was still running (well, jogging at that point), and hadn't stopped to walk, so I was hopeful that my goal of running the whole time would be realized.
Mile 25 finally arrived, and the volunteers were still positive- "Only a little bit more than a mile! You can do it!" 25.5, and that's when the stitch in my side appeared out of nowhere."Oh, NO," I thought to myself, "not NOW! After allllll this?!" I quickly pinched my side, kept breathing, and really started to pump my arms so that I could keep moving forward (that was my mental chant - "Keep moving forward, that's all you need to do, you're so close!").
I passed by the 26mile marker, and a gentlemen just ahead yelled "Only about 100 meters! You're so close!" Let me tell you, though, that finish line still looked like it was hundreds of miles away. I passed by Jen and Christina, who were cheering wildly for me (I don't think I was smiling anymore, though!), and turned the last corner before the finish line. Jen told me later that she was fairly certain my arms were moving faster than my legs at that point, pumping myself forward, inching toward the finish line. My three other cheering buddies were there, too, and they screamed wildly for me, too - "YAH! USC! You're almost done!" I looked at the race clock, checked my watch, and knew that I was going to finish under my goal time. I crossed the line, remembered to look up for the camera guy at the finish line, and almost fell over as a volunteer put a medal around my neck.
OFFICIAL FINAL TIME: 4:27:41
Then began a few minutes of delirium - I was sobbing, hurting, wanting to lay down but knowing that I needed to keep moving, and frantically trying to find Christina and Jen, who were nowhere to be found. I wandered around for a few minutes, shook hands with a fellow Trojan who congratulated me on a job well-done, and took a bunch of water bottles from a table. I really wanted to drink them, but couldn't even begin to imagine opening the bottles to actually take a drink - that was just too much work. Then, thanks again to the hot pink sweater, I finally spotted Jen and Christina, who were waving their arms wildly (and apparently had been doing do for several minutes before I saw them). I made my way slowly to them, and they pushed their way past the "Runners-Only Zone" to wrap their arms around me and tell me congratulations.
Having Christina and Jen there was the best feeling in the world - in spite of having pain like I couldn't describe, and feeling so incredibly exhausted that every step was a struggle, I was so incredibly humbled and grateful to have them with me at the end. They took the stuff out of my hands, helped me put on a dry shirt so I wouldn't freeze (I actually took off my running shirt, so I was only in sportsbra, in the middle of the Mandalay Bay parking lot, and didn't care one bit - yet another mini-victory!) and called my parents so I could tell them that I had finished. I must have cracked some kind of joke, because Christina made a comment about me not only finishing under my goal time, but also with my sense of humor intact, which was a victory in itself! =)
After talking to my parents, I called Michelle while Christina and I waited for Chaffeur Jennifer to come around and pick us up in the car. As I was telling her about it, she asked me if I would want to do another one. Without hesitation, I said, "Oh, for sure. I'm just trying to figure out which race I want to do!"
"Oh, good," Michelle said, "I was hoping you'd say that!!!"
....so was I.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
