Since I can't actually run (thank you, Mr. Stress Fracture), I can at least still write about running.
Here's something I found recently. They're all true for me, how 'bout you?
You know you're a runner if:
Your entire iPod is devoted to running songs
You give directions in tenths of a mile increments
You try to convince others to run a 5k because its only 3 miles
You consider pasta and sports drink a food group
You can easily convert kilometers into miles
You have more running apparel than regular apparel
What's missing?
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Cleveland Marathon--Race Report
A few weeks ago, when I wrote about taper madness, I mentioned that one of my toes had been hurting. I mentioned it casually and had been downplaying it as much as possible leading up to the marathon. Only Runner Boy, who watched me pop vitamin I like it was Smartees and ice my foot with frozen peas at every opportunity, knew how much it was really hurting. I figured if I didn't draw any attention to it, it would be okay for the big race. I even toyed with the idea of aiming for a sub 4:00 marathon.
Fast forward to Saturday, the day before race day, when my dad and I took an extended walking tour of Cleveland. (Btw, I could write paragraphs about Cleveland, but my grandmother always told me "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I'll leave it at that. Oooh, except I can't help but mention the cops outside the sushi restaurant on Friday night who told us "Don't worry, it's safe now." Nice.) So, as Runner Daddy and I were walking, and walking, and walking, and walking, my toe began to feel not so great. I told him I wanted to veg out for a while--not mentioning the toe because of that whole "don't draw attention to it" thing--and I managed to sneakily ice my foot while RD napped.
We had dinner Saturday night with about twelve people from my running group. It was wonderful to see familiar faces in a strange city and I got a last-minute adrenaline boost for the race. By the time I saw them again the next morning, I was pumped and my foot issue was honestly in the recesses of my mind. I lined up between the 4:00 and 4:15 pacers and decided to see how I could do.
The first five miles were great. I was maintaining just under a 9:00 min/mile pace and was feeling really strong. The weather was in the mid-40's and the sun wasn't blazing. I was coasting, taking it easy, and my cardio was excellent. Then the shit hit the fan. Suddenly, out of the blue, my foot started screaming. I mean, it was blinding pain. I think I even started crying. Unfortunately, I was surrounded by a gazillion half marathoners and they were counting down the miles and high-fiving at each mile marker. I could only focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
At mile 12, I saw the split for the half marathoners. I considered taking it. And I'm not just saying that. I really almost veered off at the split. At that point, not only was my toe hurting, but I was obviously compensating somehow with my ankle and that was now screaming too. I decided to stay on the marathon course with the idea that if it got to the point I literally couldn't run anymore, I would turn around and walk back to the half mary finish. When I reached my own half marker, my time was 2:03. I was still running strong despite the pain.
At each mile marker I did the mental math, it was x miles back to the half and y miles to the finish. I just kept focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I refused to walk because I knew it would just take that much longer to finish. I reached the point of no return at mile 20. I felt a rush when I saw the marker because, despite the pain, I knew I was going to finish.
The rest of the race was one foot in front of the other. Don't think, just run. I hit my lowest point at mile 24. I threw up and didn't' know if it was from pain, exhaustion, or a combination. I walked for about a quarter mile until I realized that was taking too long and I just wanted the race over. Even if I ran at 13:00 min/mile pace, I was still running. So I went for it.
At mile 25, a lady on the sidelines was handing out chunks of fresh orange. I debated taking one, worried how it might affect me, then I realized it really couldn't get much worse. I bit into the orange and it was the most amazing, delicious, refreshing food I've ever had. As I slurped down the juice, I realized I was crazy thirsty. I quickly drained two entire bottles from my Fuel Belt and pushed on.
As I approached the finish, I realized I might actually have a chance of breaking 4:20. That had become my pie in the sky goal somewhere around mile 16 or so. I dug deep into whatever reserves I had and sprinted to the line. The clock time was off from my chip time and I was running too fast to look at my watch. I automatically hit "stop" on my Garmin after crossing the finish and didn't look at the time until I had my medal. When I glanced down, I noticed I had missed my goal. Oh well, I thought, at least I finished. Then my dad came running over, hooting and hollering. My official chip time had been texted to him: 4:18:59. I did it!
And I have an appointment with the podiatrist today at 1:30. :)
Fast forward to Saturday, the day before race day, when my dad and I took an extended walking tour of Cleveland. (Btw, I could write paragraphs about Cleveland, but my grandmother always told me "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I'll leave it at that. Oooh, except I can't help but mention the cops outside the sushi restaurant on Friday night who told us "Don't worry, it's safe now." Nice.) So, as Runner Daddy and I were walking, and walking, and walking, and walking, my toe began to feel not so great. I told him I wanted to veg out for a while--not mentioning the toe because of that whole "don't draw attention to it" thing--and I managed to sneakily ice my foot while RD napped.
We had dinner Saturday night with about twelve people from my running group. It was wonderful to see familiar faces in a strange city and I got a last-minute adrenaline boost for the race. By the time I saw them again the next morning, I was pumped and my foot issue was honestly in the recesses of my mind. I lined up between the 4:00 and 4:15 pacers and decided to see how I could do.
The first five miles were great. I was maintaining just under a 9:00 min/mile pace and was feeling really strong. The weather was in the mid-40's and the sun wasn't blazing. I was coasting, taking it easy, and my cardio was excellent. Then the shit hit the fan. Suddenly, out of the blue, my foot started screaming. I mean, it was blinding pain. I think I even started crying. Unfortunately, I was surrounded by a gazillion half marathoners and they were counting down the miles and high-fiving at each mile marker. I could only focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
At mile 12, I saw the split for the half marathoners. I considered taking it. And I'm not just saying that. I really almost veered off at the split. At that point, not only was my toe hurting, but I was obviously compensating somehow with my ankle and that was now screaming too. I decided to stay on the marathon course with the idea that if it got to the point I literally couldn't run anymore, I would turn around and walk back to the half mary finish. When I reached my own half marker, my time was 2:03. I was still running strong despite the pain.
At each mile marker I did the mental math, it was x miles back to the half and y miles to the finish. I just kept focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I refused to walk because I knew it would just take that much longer to finish. I reached the point of no return at mile 20. I felt a rush when I saw the marker because, despite the pain, I knew I was going to finish.
The rest of the race was one foot in front of the other. Don't think, just run. I hit my lowest point at mile 24. I threw up and didn't' know if it was from pain, exhaustion, or a combination. I walked for about a quarter mile until I realized that was taking too long and I just wanted the race over. Even if I ran at 13:00 min/mile pace, I was still running. So I went for it.
At mile 25, a lady on the sidelines was handing out chunks of fresh orange. I debated taking one, worried how it might affect me, then I realized it really couldn't get much worse. I bit into the orange and it was the most amazing, delicious, refreshing food I've ever had. As I slurped down the juice, I realized I was crazy thirsty. I quickly drained two entire bottles from my Fuel Belt and pushed on.
As I approached the finish, I realized I might actually have a chance of breaking 4:20. That had become my pie in the sky goal somewhere around mile 16 or so. I dug deep into whatever reserves I had and sprinted to the line. The clock time was off from my chip time and I was running too fast to look at my watch. I automatically hit "stop" on my Garmin after crossing the finish and didn't look at the time until I had my medal. When I glanced down, I noticed I had missed my goal. Oh well, I thought, at least I finished. Then my dad came running over, hooting and hollering. My official chip time had been texted to him: 4:18:59. I did it!
And I have an appointment with the podiatrist today at 1:30. :)
Cleveland did have some nice hardware:
UPDATE: Yep, it's broken. The doctor said I have at least one stress fracture. This is my new designer footwear...
Monday, May 11, 2009
Race Week!!!
It's here! I can't believe it! Less than one week from now I will have run my second marathon. My runs have been kind of craptastic lately and it's sent my freakout engine into overdrive. For my mental health, I decided it was time for a change up. When the midweek distances got too long for morning runs, I became an evening runner. Sometimes I ran outside after Runner Boy got home, but a lot of my miles have been on the hamster wheel in the basement--a nightmare in and of itself, but even more so when you have to deal with three little runlets incessantly interrupting and vying for attention, snacks, boo boo assessment, etc. Try to get in a zone with that going on!
So a change up made sense. It wouldn't hurt physically either. The marathon starts at 7 a.m. and I don't want my system doesn't go into shock on race day. With that in mind, I got up at 5:40 this morning, donned my gear, and headed out. I was supposed to run three miles, but I felt so good that I kept going for one more. (I have to be careful about that this week--the final taper is excruciating. I'm banking the extra mile today and shaving one from Wednesday.) I live amongst a lot of hills and was amazed today when I saw my final average pace: 8:48/mile. Not too shabby for a "let's take it easy and just keep these legs loose and limber" type of run!
I'm starting to get really stoked for this weekend!
So a change up made sense. It wouldn't hurt physically either. The marathon starts at 7 a.m. and I don't want my system doesn't go into shock on race day. With that in mind, I got up at 5:40 this morning, donned my gear, and headed out. I was supposed to run three miles, but I felt so good that I kept going for one more. (I have to be careful about that this week--the final taper is excruciating. I'm banking the extra mile today and shaving one from Wednesday.) I live amongst a lot of hills and was amazed today when I saw my final average pace: 8:48/mile. Not too shabby for a "let's take it easy and just keep these legs loose and limber" type of run!
I'm starting to get really stoked for this weekend!
Monday, May 4, 2009
Taper Madness
Yep, I've got it. I've got it bad. I guess the first inkling was when Runner Boy found me on the sofa yesterday morning, arm flung across my eyes, groaning in a general state of misery. This was after I had sufficiently snapped at the runlets enough to scare them from the family room indefinitely. When Runner Boy asked "What's going on? Are you okay?" I shrieked, "You really want to know what's going on? Really? It's my toe. It's either tendinitis or it's broken. Either way, I don't see how I can ever run a marathon in two weeks. Two weeks! From today! I guess I'll just gimp through and deal with all the resulting stress fractures later. I mean, my shoes have too many miles on them to prevent injury anyway. Not to mention the fact that I'm gaining three pounds a day--that'll feel great on my knees for 26.2 miles. I might as well just surrender to permanent damage."
Ahhh, poor Runner Boy. Poor runlets. Such is the life of living with a tapering marathoner. Is my toe sore? It has been, but it's actually fine today. And my shoes? Two hundred miles. That's not too much. I'm just irrationally freaking out. Taper madness.
Ahhh, poor Runner Boy. Poor runlets. Such is the life of living with a tapering marathoner. Is my toe sore? It has been, but it's actually fine today. And my shoes? Two hundred miles. That's not too much. I'm just irrationally freaking out. Taper madness.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)