Second Half, Second Half

When last we met, I was describing how excited I was to be running in my second-ever half marathon race.  My first was the Women's Half Marathon, described in excruciating detail in that link.  My second was the Swamp House Half Marathon, and I was really looking forward to running it.  I was sure that I could beat the time of my first half (2:11) by a lot, and maybe even come in under 2 hours.  I had quieted the scaredy cat whiny baby in my head when I completed the whole 13.1 miles the first time, so all that was left to do was keep putting miles behind me between November and March, and to keep from injuring myself.

D'oh!  D'oh! And a double d'oh!

I didn't feel great after the November race.  I had pulled an abdominal muscle, which hurt for a few days, and when running all weird and breathing all wrong to make my abs not hurt so much during the race, I hurt my knee, too.  The smart thing to do was to take some time off, so I did.  The stupid thing to do was to take the rest of November and most of December off.  I ran a little, of course (If I don't, I start to feel like Old Yeller at the end of the movie.  Before he gets [SPOILER ALERT] killed, when he's all snarly and foaming at the mouth.)  I ran a 5k with Husband early in January, and a 5k leg of a 15k relay a few weeks later.  That day, I had decided to add some extra miles to get back into my planned training, so I ran home from the race site.  About a mile into the 3 1/2 mile trek home, my knee started hurting.  A lot.  I took a couple of walk breaks,  iced it when I got home, and rested, compressed and elevated it for a couple of days.  A really annoying, super frustrating pattern developed:  Run.  Ouch.  RICE.  Run fewer miles.  Run more miles.  Ouch.  RICE.  Run fewer miles.  Run more miles.  Ouch.  RICE.

I figured out that the source of pain, felt mostly in my knee, was actually my IT band.  Quick summary- the IT (iliotibial) band runs from around the hip to the outside of the knee.  When running (like I run), friction is created between the band of fascia and the bones, which can cause pain.  Although I pictured a rubber band when I first heard the description of the problem, to me, it felt like the opposite of a rubber band (whatever that may be).  When it would start to hurt, it was like my whole leg, starting from my hip, was getting shorter; getting pulled too tight.  I found some relief when I learned some stretches and went to some yoga classes.  I practiced improving my running form, I set a personal record in a 5k race, and I figured out a racing plan.  I realized that my form breaks down when I get fatigued, and bad form = pain, so my plan was to feel fresh for as many of the 13 miles as I could.  I decided to run for 10 minutes and walk for 1 minute.  I had my masseuse friend SpectacularLeigh work out any extra tension at the fabulous salon where I also got my hair done, and I felt like I was ready.  Since I had injured my knee, I had not logged nearly as many miles as I had originally planned, so I adjusted my goal from finishing under 2 hours to just having a good-feeling race.

I subtitled this race "Psychological Prowess", and here's why: I had some pretty significant mental hurdles to plow through in order to have a great race-

My best friend and biggest fan, Husband, was out of town for work.

It was really, really cold on race day.

I hadn't run more than 4 miles without pain in months.

Still nursing Baby had wakened me in the night, giving me <4 hours of sleep.

Sing with me!  Free your mind and the rest will follow.

My dad picked me up on race morning and left my mom with Baby and then-5 yr. old.  We met my sister and the three of us arrived at and parked in the super-easy-to-find field near the start line.  Did I mention that it was really cold?  37F, which felt like 32F with the wind.  We stayed in the car to keep warm until the last possible minute.  We didn't even get out to line up at the port-o-lets.  The race directors had planned well, so the lines weren't too long, but there was no line at all in front of the bushes.  

Just watered, not fertilized.

We lined up at the start (my sis and I had some of our husbands' socks on over our shoes to try to keep our toes warm- it worked!) just before the National Anthem.  The race started promptly, and we set off through the quiet neighborhoods.  My first mile was a 9:12 pace, which was right where I wanted to be.  The first time my watched beeped to indicate that I should take a walk break, I barely slowed down.  Mile 2 was a 9:11 pace, and I did slow to a walk after another 10 minutes of running.  Mile 3 was 9:01, and I felt great.  I wasn't in any pain, and I felt like I was taking the race easy enough to keep the IT band pain away for a while longer.  

We turned onto a main road, and cars were backed up as far as I could see.  My mom was planning to bring my kids to the finish line after giving them breakfast and bundling them up, and I couldn't see how she was going to get there with the traffic and road blocks.  Before I let myself get too worried, though, I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths.  I thought about how beautiful the sunlight looked coming through the trees, and how good the cold air had started to feel, and how grateful I was to be able to run.  I realized that I would really be okay with it if my mom had to turn around and go back to my house with the kids; that I was going to have a great race no matter what.  Mile 4 beeped in at a 9:09 pace.  I walked when my watch indicated it was time, and then I walked through a water stop so I could wash down my gooey, sticky fuel chews.

I cut them into quarters and still had trouble chewing them.  The energy boost without feeling barfy was great, though!

The extra walking made mile 5 a little longer, 9:54.  I was starting to feel some twinges of pain, especially when going uphill (probably only Florida natives like me would even call this course "hilly" with a straight face, but whatever) so I let myself slow down and tried to concentrate on my form.  Mile 6 was 9:51, and I was still feeling physically okay when I saw my brother-in-law and his parents at mile 7, which was 9:49.  My friend and training buddy and sister's sister-in-law (all the same person) stayed with me, even as I slowed down further.  She didn't make fun of me when I tried to convince her that 7.5 + 4.5 = 13 (we saw a very confusing sign about free beer in 4.5 miles) and she walked with me when the pain really started to set in.  I was still able to run for the majority of miles 8 and 9, which put them at 10:20 and 10:16.  Right around the 15k mark, we turned onto a road with a different sort of pavement.  I'm not sure what it's called, maybe Hellcrete?  Satanment?  GRAVEL?  I've heard that some people love running on it, but it was hard on my hips and other joints.  Most of the next miles were spent walking, because every time I started to run, it felt like my right leg was being pulled up and held in a vice.  It was hard to bend it, and hard to straighten it.  13:26, 10:14, & 12:22 were my next 3 mile times.  

I had tons of energy, was in great spirits, and was still enjoying myself, despite realizing that I was not going to beat my first half marathon time.  (I did try to convince my friend at mile 12 that it was possible for us to finish around 2:05, and she didn't make fun of me for that math error, either!  She's so kind.)  I started running again when we got back on a normal road, and soon saw my dad, then my sister's oldest son ("Umm, do you know you're not running very fast?"  Thanks for the motivation, kid.  "No, I'm just saying, I mean, you're like, a runner, and I'm keeping up with you!  I'm not saying you're slow, but I'm not fast, and I think I could beat you to the finish line.  Oh, and everyone else is already done."  Yes. Thank you.), and soon after, I saw my mom, son, daughter, and other nephews cheering and clapping (Would that have been so hard, dear, oldest nephew?).  Mile 13 was at a 10:27 pace, and I improved to a 9:43 pace for the last bit.  (Maybe I did need the rough talk from my nephew?)

Well practiced at cheering for runners, these boys are.

I crossed the finish line, got a water and my medal/bottle opener, then turned back to look at the clock.  I may well be the only runner to feel this way, but my slower-than-planned, really painful race was G-R-E-A-T.  It reminded me of my third College Algebra class.  Nope, not the third class meeting of the semester, but about 1/4 of the way through the third time I had enrolled in the class (I actually only failed it once, and barely.  The teacher didn't like me [may have had something to do with how often she had to wake me] so I literally failed by 1 point.  The other time, I dropped the class after 2 meetings because I couldn't understand anything the instructor was saying.  I'm pretty sure he thought he was teaching astronomy.).  During that Algebra class, and during that half-marathon, I actually heard heard a click in my brain.  After the click in Algebra, I was awake, interested, and passing all the tests with flying colors (and as you can all now attest, I'm not really a "math girl").  After the race click, I realized that racing isn't about numbers for me.  It's about my own accomplishments, my strengths, and getting as much out of the experience as possible.  The time on the clock is just like icing on the brownies. Yes, I know it's usually 'cake' in the saying, but I contend that icing on cake is not an extra bonus, it's a necessity.  Icing on brownies, though, is an unexpected treat.

Result: 2:14:57

After the race, I changed clothes, fed Baby in the car, and re-joined my family.  The little boys got to wrestle and jump on each other in the bounce house, my sis and dad got age group awards, I snagged a free beer, berry danish, bagel and banana, and enjoyed the festivities for a while before we left.  The traffic had never actually been as bad as it looked from my perspective during the race, and getting out was a breeze.  My family and I stopped to get lunch at:

Where the sauces are the only thing hotter than the order-takers.  Imagine Hooters girls with happily married parents, and you'll have a good picture of the T.F. employees.

The (really pretty) girl who took our order had actually been volunteering at a water stop during the race, so I felt like a bit of a star, wearing my medal and accepting her, "Wow, I don't know how you guys run that far" with a smile.

Today's advice was going to be deep and important, but then I got caught up looking at taco pictures when I was searching for the Tijuana Flats logo image.

Is my mouth the only one watering right now?

So, you get this: take advantage of their Taco Tuesdaze deal.  2 tacos, chips and a soda for the low, low price of $4.99.  If you live somewhere without the addictive, delicious, worth every gram of fat tacos made by T.F., I'm very, very sorry for you.  You should probably move to Florida.  Ooh!  Then, you could run the Swamp House half marathon with me next year, too!

What do you like on your tacos?

Have you ever heard "the click"?

Never Have I Ever...

...played the drinking game with the same title as this post.  For real, Mom and Dad.  I never did!  I just saw it on tv.  Feel free to check out the rules in the link and play as you read this post, though.  Then you can comment with how many times you (would have) had to drink  Sometimes, I am taken aback by how ridiculously happy and blessed I am, and I start to feel a bit guilty about my cheery, adorable-photo-filled, mushy gushy, sunshine and rainbows, I-love-my-husband-and-running posts.  I feel like I should make it clear that I am also often taken aback by how imperfect I am; how many stupid things I do, how many bad decisions I make.  Please enjoy (It's okay to take pleasure in reading about the shortfalls of others- we all do it.  Right?  No?  Well, then there's one.) my Confessions of Ineptitude.

Never Have I Ever...
...opened the box containing the iron or unwrapped the ironing board, both purchased over 3 years ago, because I didn't own either one.  Yes, that means what you think it means.  6 y.o. has never seen a clothes iron used in our home.

...washed our house's windows or screens.  I have dusted the blinds and vacuumed the windowsills, but I wouldn't even know where to begin actual window washing.  I seem to remember using the garden hose to spray water at the windows when I was growing up, but that may not have actually been helpful to my parents.
...mowed a lawn.  I see our old lady neighbor, out using her push mower, and feel a little twinge of...something.  Embarrassment, probably, but it feels a little like regret mixed with fear (of getting to retirement age and having to sacrifice buying coffee so I can pay the lawn guys) and relief.  Again, I wouldn't even know where to begin.
...put money in the buckets held by people standing in the road, or in the hands of people holding signs.  I actually consider myself to be a pretty generous and charitable person, and I do donate food, clothing, and money to different organizations.  The people on the side of the road scare me, though, and I always pretend I don't see them.  When I think it through, it's very silly.  As if throwing a dollar into the bucket of the reflective vest wearer will somehow give him the inclination to drag me out of my car and murder me?  As if lowering my window and handing spare change to the person holding the "homeless and hungry anything help godbless" sign is going to instigate an attack or kidnapping?  Probably not.
...been so ashamed of my feet.  I have a spa gift card, waiting to be used on a pedicure, and I can't bring myself to set an appointment.  I'm sure they're not the most disgusting feet in the universe, but they're easily the most disgusting I've ever owned.

My actual feet, before they betrayed me and turned to the dark side.

...been asked for hair styling, makeup, decorating, fashion, or dancing tips.  I'm quite certain I never will be asked, either.
...been the Fantasy Football league champion.  I did make the playoffs last season!  I was even ranked first for several weeks.  Ended up in 4th place, my highest (just out of the money) finish yet.

Almost Always, I...
...procrastinate.  I put off easy tasks.  I put off difficult tasks.  I put off necessary things, I put off phone calls and emails and really silly things like filling up water bottles.  Why does "later" always seem more appealing than "now"?  Procrastinating is almost always the wrong choice, and I wish I could give advice on how to stop it, but the only tip I can think of is the obvious one- just do it now.

Ha!

...park my car crookedly.  Yep.  I'm one of those.  Mine is the car you shake your head at as you walk through the lot, and mutter, "Wheredja learn to park?" or something.  Even more ridiculous than the fact that I am so bad at parking after almost 20 years of practice (GAAAH!  I'M SO OLD!) is the joy and pride I feel when I occasionally find my car in the center of the space.  It's not such a huge accomplishment.  Really, I should be celebrating and sending pictures to my family when I have not procrastinated doing a simple chore like folding laundry or emptying the dishwasher.
...am late.  I'm terrible at estimating the time it takes to do anything, even if I've done it 100 times.  I'm also easily distracted.  Not sure if you know it, but that combo does not equal promptness.  Remember what I said up there about doing stupid things?  Here's one that I do way too often: I set my alarm to wake me up with what I think is 20 extra minutes to get ready.  Stay in bed an extra 5 minutes.  End up with 5 extra minutes before I need to leave the house, and rather than just getting in my crooked car and leaving early, I start a task that I've been procrastinating.  I tell myself it will only take 3 minutes.  Inevitably, it takes at least 10.  I check the clock, feel genuine shock, and rush out the door.
...skip flossing.  I was going to put this in the "never have I ever" category, but I'm positive I've flossed my teeth at some point in my life.  I remember my gums bleeding.  I think the last time I flossed was pre-Y2K.  I stopped, figuring that if the world was going to end anyway, there was really no point in having super healthy teeth.

10 years, no floss.  Na na na boo boo, folks with a genetic predisposition toward tooth decay.

I have a hard time remembering...
...what the red and blue, elephant and donkey represent.  I mean, I know they symbolize Republicans and Democrats, but I can never remember which color is which and which animal is which.
...how to tell the difference between a bass and a regular guitar.  Yes, this is coming from the same gal who has attended a really awesome number of rock concerts.
...to concentrate on my form when I'm running.  One day, I went to the gym at 5 a.m. and ran on the treadmill directly in front of the window so that I could see my reflection perfectly.  I had forgotten my iPod.  There were only 1 or 2 other people anywhere close.  I still got distracted from watching myself and fixing my obvious errors.
...to respond to party invitations.  I feel like such a heel about it, too.  Not a pretty, just pedicured heel, either.  Like, one of my heels.
...to use coupons before they expire.  Nothing makes me growl and stomp like throwing away money.
...due dates.  For more than a decade, I didn't set foot in the library because I had forgotten to return some books that were in the trunk of my car when I sold it.  I was granted a library card again a few years ago, and now I think of my late fines as donating to a charity that I like.  If I don't think of it that way, I get all growly and stompy again.

I could go on, of course.  I thought about asking Husband for additional evidence of my ineptitude, but then I figured I would get upset, no matter what he said.  Here's something you should remember- asking people to tell you your faults, in detail, will usually not make you feel so sunshine-y and smiley.  Better to just concentrate on the triumphs and joys in your life, and put off fixing your faults until tomorrow.

How many times would you have had to drink in agreement with my statements?

Any tips on window washing?  I might try it soon.

Security!

Gimme an 'R'!  Gimme an 'A'!  Gimme a 'C'!  Gimme an 'E'!  Now put 'em all together and re-CAP!  Re-CAP!  Woooooooo! Insert high jumps, splits, and pom-pom shaking here.

Race #10- 26.2 With Donna (a.k.a. The National Marathon to Finish Breast Cancer, a.k.a., The Donna) Marathon Relay, February 17, 2013
             Feelings and Numbness (If you don't have time to read two recaps of the same race, read my sister's, linked right there ^.  It's way good.  Really.)

You know, it's Spring like this that makes me recycle.  Maybe all those warnings about global warming are actually intended for us and not for our great-great-grandchildren.  All I know for sure is that I almost never complain about the weather, but I am so sick and tired of the cold, lately, that it seems all I do now is whine every time I go outside before 10:00 a.m.  (Yeah, the race was technically still during the winter, but it was a really cold winter for Florida.)

March 25, 2013, in Virginia.  Photo courtesy of Megan Connelly, used without permission.

And racing in the cold?  Well, it's not so bad.  But waiting outside to race in the cold?  Miserable.  Well, mostly.  Sorta.  Okay, if it hadn't been for my sis...  As it was, we got to wait together for her to begin her third marathon and me to lead off our relay team.

The Donna is held in Jacksonville, FL, which happens to be where my in-laws live.  Instead of paying for a hotel room, we were able to stay at my sis-in-law's apartment (thank you!), and were able to leave the children with them while Husband and I joined some friends from the running group for dinner (thanks!).  After the nightmarish time the night before my first half-marathon, it seemed wise to make every effort to get Baby to sleep comfortably.  To that end, we made a trip to Buy Buy Baby and purchased a special mattress that fits inside the pack-n-play, and an extra soft sheet made of the same material as her regular crib sheet.  Mom-in-law kindly laundered the new sheet (gracias!), and we set up the portable bed with crossed fingers. I rocked Baby to sleep, just like at home, held my breath, and laid her down.  She didn't wake up immediately!  About an hour later, I was ready for bed, too, and that's when she woke up.  Twice, I rocked her back to sleep, but both times she woke up as soon as I laid her in bed.  I resigned myself to another sleepless night, and laid down on the couch with her on my chest.  Husband covered us with a cozy blanket (merci beaucoup!), and I only woke up every hour or so when various body parts had fallen asleep and were numb.  As often happens, my discomfort was a blessing in disguise.  I had received a new phone from sis-in-law the day before (ever so grateful!) and did not set the alarm correctly.  I happened to wake up only 2 minutes after it should have gone off, and was able to get ready on time.  I left her apartment just before 5, with a full 4 hours of sleep in me, and zero caffeine.

As instructed by the brochure and website, my sis and I were at the start line 2 hours early, at 5:30 a.m.  The temperature was at the higher end of what had been predicted, and was just above freezing when we arrived.  Kim was the second runner on my relay team, and had also arrived extra early to board a shuttle bus to her exchange point.  We had a few minutes together near the gear check trucks, where there were several warming table/lantern/canopy things.  We then did our necessary in the too-cold-to-smell-bad port-o-lets, bid farewell to Kim, and made our way to the really wonderful Runner's Village, where we were offered free Dunkin' Donuts coffee, bagels, fruit, muffins, granola bars, juice, water, and admission into a giant, heated tent.  Again, my sis and I followed the instructions we had been given, and made our way out of the warmth, away from the coffee, and into our starting corral at 6:30.

The reflective stuff really works, eh?

Our race bibs were color coded by predicted finishing time, with the slower people in the corrals further from the start line.  When my sis registered for the marathon, she hadn't yet run that distance, so she predicted her finishing time to be much slower than it actually would end up being.  As a relay team, we were expecting to finish with the fasties, and so were given yellow (corral #1) bibs.  It was clear to us that she should have registered as a yellow, so we didn't feel bad at all about sneaking her into the yellow corral.  (And we would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for that pesky security guard!  More on that in a bit.)

Unfortunately for us, many many other runners did not follow the instructions.  Or something.  I don't know exactly why, but there were thousands of people still stuck in traffic when the race was supposed to start at 7:30.  And still, at 7:45.  They delayed the start time until 8:00, which I'm sure was best for the majority of the racers.  It's just hard to wrap a frozen brain around rational thoughts like that one.  My goodness, was it ever cold!

Still smiling = Before the first delay announcement.

Finally, the race began.  As the announcer was counting down to "GO", a very-serious-about-her-volunteer-work security guard stepped in front of my blue bibbed sister and told her to get out of line and go back to the blue corral.  She was brave and smart enough to refuse, and only had to endure 4 seconds of the security lady's nasty look before we crossed the starting line.

Just 8 days earlier, I had kept an average of 8:10/mile for 3.1 miles, so I was feeling really confident in my ability to do the same, or close to it, for my 6 mile leg of the marathon relay.  I may have said this before, but it bears repeating.  Confidence doesn't do the work for you.  Nor do happy thoughts, encouraging signs, or energetic crowds.  All of those things are helpful boosters, but make no mistake- in order to run fast, you have to run.  Fast.  This task is much easier to complete when your toes feel like toes, rather than large chunks of ice weighing down your shoes.  My first mile time was 8:41, and I still felt totally frozen.  My sis and I ran together for a couple of minutes between miles 1 & 2, but then she took off, and I wouldn't see her again until the finish line.  My second mile time was 8:45, and everything except my toes had thawed out.  The sun was shining, there were people cheering, I heard music playing, saw lots of pink balloons, streamers, and signs, and I was truly glad to be running for such an important cause.  Mile number three was 8:43, but the cold weather was about to take its toll.  I had recently learned that I experienced much less knee pain when I was running with proper posture and concentrating on where my feet were landing.  I had also figured out in my last race how helpful it was to breathe deeply.  Problem was, I still couldn't feel my feet to know where they were landing. I was also hunching over, bracing myself against the wind and cold.  And, each time I tried to breathe deeply (I couldn't close my eyes in this race, there were way too many people around), my lungs would burn and I'd start coughing.  I don't know how to spit, and when I take deep breaths in cold weather, I always feel like I need to.  Then, I feel like I'm choking or gagging, and it's not the greatest.  Mile 4 was slower than the previous 3, at 9:10.  Just after the 4th mile marker, my knee started screaming, and I couldn't ignore it.  I slowed to a walk for much of the 5th mile, and clocked it at 10:04.  My last mile was slightly easier.  My knee was still really hurting, but the crowds of cheering people were even more plentiful than they had been.  I saw a pair of women displaying their years of cancer survival on signs pinned to their backs.  I saw strangers holding signs thanking the runners for helping fight against breast cancer.  I thought about my mom, having been so brave through chemo and radiation and sickness and pain and hair loss and fear, and was grateful, as always, that she had beat breast cancer.  Finally, I heard someone shout my bib number just before I saw Kim, waiting to take the baton from me, and I was done!  My 6th mile time was 9:30, for a total of 54:something.

I managed to find Husband, MIL, and Baby really easily where they had parked a block away from the relay exchange point.  I let Baby munch on my medal for a bit, then nursed her in the warm car.  Not sure where her obsession with medals might have come from...

Baby and her Papa

Aunt Jenn

Big Brother

...those things don't run in families, do they?

I had Husband drop me off at the finish line area, left my jacket in the car (but remembered my mylar blanket, at least!), and waited for my teammates and sissy to finish.  The Finisher's Village was pretty awesome.  I got a free massage and some hot soup while I was waiting, and later took advantage of the free beer and samples of energy popsicles.  The only problem was that the FV was around a few corners and about 1/4 mile away from the actual finish line.  There was a huge screen set up so that family members could (supposedly) see their loved ones cross the line, but it was impossible to tell who I was looking at.  I couldn't even make out bib numbers or genders from the view on the screen.  I talked to Kim, who was with my brother-in-law and her husband (2 of our 3 other teammates) and learned that Jenn was on pace to meet her goal of finishing under 3:39:59.  I walked closer to the finish line, and was stopped by (can you even believe it?) the same way-too-self-important security guard from earlier.  She informed me that the area needed to be kept clear for the runners, and I would have to go the other direction.  I rolled my eyes as politely as possible, and stepped behind her.  She turned around and gestured for me to keep walking.  I did, until she turned back around.  I sneaked past her a few minutes later, and stood quietly, not blocking anyone's path or even standing close to anyone finishing the race.  She approached me again, and told me that I wasn't allowed to be there, or anywhere near there.
"I just need to see my sister cross the finish line!  She'll be here any minute!"
"You can see from the sidewalk back there."
"No, I can't see from there!"
"Well, you can't be here.  You have to keep moving."
Again, she followed me until I was safely away from any possibility of seeing the most proud and momentous accomplishment my sister had ever made.  At last, my brother-in-law and other teammates arrived, and I learned that there really is safety in numbers.  Nobody stopped us as we walked to the finish line.  After just a few minutes, when the clock had already struck 3:39:00, she came into view.  And, well, now I'm crying again.

Please enjoy this awkwardly posed picture while I grab a tissue.

She did it.  She qualified to run the Boston Marathon.  She has secured a spot for herself in a race that you have to earn your way into.  There is something so amazing, so inspiring, so phenomenal, about seeing someone accomplish a goal like that.  Add in the fact that I was watching my dear sister, oldest friend- someone who I had seen run her first marathon, and her second, who had inspired me to run and changed my life for the better, whom I knew had trained for months, and worked so hard, and well, now I'm crying again.

At some point, our last relay team member crossed the finish line, too.  My eyes were too full of tears to see, but we ended up in 11th place out of nearly 200 teams.  We had some pictures taken, shared some stories, complained about the cold (by this time, it was in the mid-40s), and I burst into tears several more times.  Eventually, I walked the mile to the shuttle bus that would take me back to where I had parked at the start line, and was able to compose myself a bit before I got behind the wheel to return to the rest of my family.  I cried again as I described her amazing finish to Husband and the in-laws, limped around on my still-sore knee, had some lunch, and home we went.

Result: Me- 6 miles in 54:xx
Bad Case de Runz (our actual team name)- 3:41:29
Jenn- 3:39:38 BQ BQ BQ BQ!

I'll repeat my advice for you today, in case you didn't see it earlier.  Check out my sister's blog.  You won't be sorry!  Oh, and you might want to grab a tissue.

Do you recycle, or can I blame you for the cold temperatures?

Been inspired, lately?

Muscles, Mantras, & Miles

Yes, this one is about running.

I'm a girl.  I cry every time I watch "Steel Magnolias."  I can't just throw the Victoria's Secret catalog in the recycling bin without looking through it, even if I'm not buying.  I like wearing terribly uncomfortable high heeled shoes.

Pay no attention to the dust.  I totally wear them.

I can recite "The Princess Bride."  I use body wash, not soap, and I put it on floofy, pretty-colored sponges, not washcloths.  More than once, I have said the words, "I don't know why I'm crying, but..."  And, (not to set my gender back or whatever) I'm not so good at parking my car, especially if it involves backing into a space.  I get choked up if the conversation turns to the last season of "Friends", and cried when Grayson proposed on "Cougar Town" because it reminded me of when Monica and Chandler got engaged.  I enjoy looking at wedding photos, even if I don't know the people in them.  Weird as it may sound, I did not cry during labor or when either of my children were first born.  Maybe exhaustion made it too difficult to summon tears?  Maybe my heart is 2 sizes too small, like that of the Grinch?  Although those theories are plausible(ish), I'm pretty sure I know why I didn't cry.  For one thing, I had the two easiest labor/delivery experiences I've ever heard of.  It's rather sickening, really, how easy childbirth was for me.  The other reason I think I didn't cry is that I already felt so close to my babies.  My mom and sister were in the delivery room when both my children were born, and they both teared up at first meeting.  I remember very clearly the feeling of "Oh, I know you!" as soon as my infant was placed in my arms for the first time.  It didn't seem like I was meeting my babe for the first time, either time, it felt completely natural and normal to finally be holding them.

Several hours after Baby was born, though, the tears started, when my brother-in-law visited us in the hospital and brought a gift from my sister.  Inside the prettily wrapped box was this shirt,

a printout of a registration form in my name for the Women's Half Marathon being held 8 months hence, and a card which I could barely read through my tears.  I'm pretty sure the words "you can do this" were on there somewhere, but the sobbing made my brain kinda mushy and it's hard to remember.  Spoiler alert!  She was right.

Race #6- Women's Half Marathon, November 18, 2012
             Thir.Teen.Point.One.Miles.

My sister is smart, especially when it comes to running and racing.  As a birthday gift for her sister-in-law, Kristi-Anne, she registered her for the same race, and convinced another friend of ours, Kim, to make it her first half, too.  While it would be Jenn's fifth(?) half-marathon, me and the Ks could all train together for our first.  Jenn hosted a training plan party for us a couple of weeks after I was cleared to run, post-baby.  We used the Smart Coach system from the Runner's World site, and went home with 4 pages of training to-do calendars.

**Alert!** Alert!  **Alert!**

**You're likely not to care about the next part unless you're planning to train for a long distance race.**

The plan was basically 3 weeks on, 1 week off, with each on week including an easy run early in the week, some progressively harder speedwork in the middle of the week, and a long, slow run on the weekend.  All three of us were running about 10-15 miles/week at that point, and the plan took that into account, along with our individual paces and goals.  During the off week, we still put in some miles, but they were all easier runs.  After a few months, we reevaluated and decided to take 3 weeks off of training.  We had started our plans quite a bit sooner than was necessary, and would be ready (according to the Smart Coach, anyway) to run 13 miles 3 weeks before our race.  So, for a while, we just ran when we wanted to, as fast or as slow as we wanted to, and then started training training again 9 weeks before the race.  (It may have been 12 weeks.  If it matters a whole lot to you, I'll look it up on my calendar and tell you for sure.)  

It was great, training together.  Running with friends is nice any way you look at it, but running with friends toward a mutual goal is hard to beat.  By the end of our training, the Ks had raced a 5k and a 10k slightly faster than I, but we were all pretty even during our distance runs.  After a lot (and I mean a LOT) of discussion, we decided to stick together, and to run with the 2 hour pace group.  

The race was held in St. Petersburg, where I was born and raised.  My best childhood friend and her sister-in-law, who live in that area, also decided to run it as their first half.  (No, it is not necessary to keep track of sisters and sisters-in-law for this story.)  All of us out-of-towners arrived the day before the race, picked up our best-yet goody bags, spent some time at the fabulous Expo picking up freebies and quietly complaining to each other about the shocking prices on much of the gear, and then all had dinner together at a great Italian restaurant.  After dinner, the husbands and my oldest nephew went out for dessert.  Both Baby and 5 y.o. went to sleep without much trouble while Husband was out with the men.  Then, at about 9:45, Baby woke up.

Not so much this...

...lots of this.

Turns out, Baby doesn't particularly like sleeping in places other than her own bed.  Every time I would sway/rock/bounce/jiggle her to sleep, she would wake up within seconds of being placed in the port-a-crib.  Every time I would sit down or lay in bed while holding her, she would wake up screaming.  5 y.o. is a sound sleeper, but even he woke up around 12:30 a.m.  Finally, she stayed asleep when I laid her down at about 1:30.  I reset my alarm to give myself more sleep, for 4:25 instead of 4:20.   My back was killing me from having walked her around the hotel room for hours, and I wanted to cry from exhaustion and frustration.  I kept repeating the mantra, "It's just a race" over and over in my head, and also kept reminding myself that I had been sleep deprived for the majority of the preceding months, and that my sister-coach had insisted that the sleep the night before the night before the race was more important than that the night before the race.

I hopped on the shuttle from the hotel lobby (with the 2nd place finisher overall, I might add!) and met up with all the friends and sisters and in-laws I knew at the bag drop area.  It was cold- the coldest day since February.  We took our turns in the port-o-potties, and lined up in our corrals.  The Ks and I were together, but the other 3 were significantly faster, and thus in different starting spots.  During the singing of the National Anthem, Kim and I looked at each other, and one of us said, "Seriously?  What are we doing here?  This is crazy!"  It was crazy.  A half-marathon?  Me?  The same girl who, the only time ever cheating in school, cut short her mile run?  The same girl who was still nursing her baby?  The same girl who had HATED running for over 30 years?  Thirteen point one miles.  No *&$#ing way!  But then, someone loud and important said, "GO!" and the only thought in my head was "just run".  

For the first 5 miles, I was able to stay pretty close to the 2 hour pace runner.  For those that don't know, many races use pacers who somehow, magically, run at the exact goal pace of a lot of people, while holding high a big stick with the finishing time printed on it.  After mile 5, and the first of many cobblestone roads, I kinda slowed down for no reason.  I could still see the Ks, who could still see the pacer, but I wasn't even really thinking about how slow fast I was running.  It's a curse, being able to let my mind wander like that during competition.  I saw my family, and got a burst of speed, I saw Kim dance as she rounded the corner where there was a live band, and couldn't help but smile.  Then, we came to the Pier of Doom.  It was so windy, my earbud kept flying out of my ear.  I felt like I was running in place, and would never be done.  I tried to remember the time, as an 8 or 9 year-old, that I had gone to that same pier with Monique and her family and gotten to play the arcade games, but it was not working one bit.  I couldn't stop thinking about the cold and the wind and the fact that I was going so slow.

I kept the Ks in sight for a while longer, but tried to send them mind messages to go on without me.  I didn't want to hold them back, and I couldn't seem to make myself run any faster.  As I approached a lake, I saw my dear childhood friend coming toward me, having already rounded the lake.  I yelled her name, she waved and smiled, and I almost doubled over in pain.  Turns out, yelling her name had made me pull an abdominal muscle.  It felt like a cramp, but would not go away.  I stretched.  I walked.  I rubbed.  I pressed.  I groaned.  I ran.  Then, started the whole cycle over again.  The Ks were waiting for me at the next water stop, just past mile 9.  I told them about my pain, and they gave me some tips.  By mile 10, I had convinced them that they really should go on without me, as I was not going to be able to keep up and didn't want to ruin their races.  

Around mile 10.5, I saw the first place people going past in the other direction, nearing the finish line.  Then, I suddenly slowed to a walk.  I had to actually say the word, "NO!" in order to get myself moving again.  The pain in my abdominal muscles had subsided a bit, and walking wasn't helping it anyway, so there was no reason not to run.  Shortly after, my right knee started hurting.  Bad.  Around that same time, I saw someone holding a sign that read, "Remember Your Why".  Of course, it was supposed to be motivational, but I wanted to stop and think, because no matter how I tried, I couldn't come up with a good reason to be running that many miles.  Baby?  No.  She doesn't care what I do.  5 y.o.?  No.  He already thinks I'm awesome.  Husband?  No.  He loves me no matter what.  Because I love running?  No.  I can run without running a halffreakingmarathon!  Trying to think of a "why" distracted me until my sis, who had finished, like, 6 hours before, ran up to me.  I asked her how her race was, she said I shouldn't be able to talk so well, I told her it was my dumbknee, not my effort that was slowing me down, she said I was almost there, that I could see the finish line, I called her a liar...  Eventually, I could see the finish line.  It sort-of registered that there were a lot of people lining the sidewalks and cheering, and I was sort-of proud for running the whole last mile when I was in so much pain.  Mostly, though, I just wanted to be done.  Kristi-Anne was the first person I recognized once I had crossed, and my first words to her were, "Where's my medal?"

  I got my medal.  I survived.  And it was really, really, really hard.  Anyone who tells you that running a half-marathon is easy is someone who has run marathons or ultra-marathons.  It was way harder than I expected, but also one of the things I am most proud to have accomplished.  And I don't just say that because it's what people say.  I raced 13.1 miles.  I trained for months.  I got 3 hours of sleep the night before.  I pulled a muscle and hurt my knee.  I was the last of my friends to finish.  But, you know, it was just a race. :)

Result: 2:11:38

My advice?  Do what you can, even if you think you can't.  Even if you sound like a crazy, yelling "No!" in the middle of the street, even if you're tired and achy and cold and behind.  You might just surprise yourself, with what you can do.  

Prediction for my 2nd Half-Marathon finishing time?

Posturing

Cross training is...important?  Yes ...beneficial?  Yes ...recommended by those in the know?  Always ...done consistently by runners like me?  Um.  Well.  See, the thing is, I just don't have any desire time.

We've all heard that running is addictive.  Maybe that's why we runners don't like to do other kinds of exercise.  A crack addict will probably smoke weed if it's put in their hand, but they're certainly not going to put in much time, money or effort to obtain it.  It just doesn't have the same effect.  I'm like just about every other runner I know; cross-training doesn't really become important until an injury prevents me from running. And we're all a bit like the flat broke crack addict who finds some free Mary Jane, sighing, "It's better than nothing."

I realize that the experts talk about cross-training for runners as different forms of cardiovascular exercise that work the same muscles used in running, but in different ways.  Liptickling, rowing, cycling, swimming, and even pool running are technically the cross-training exercises that runners should do.  If you've been hanging around these parts for any length of time, you know that this is not a technical blog.  Or, technically, a running blog.

"Just you wait.  Soon, I'll be able to roll my eyes when you're annoying."
See?  Nothing to do with running.

It is a blog!  And I do have some advice to share!  And it's probably worth less than my son's duplicate Pokemon cards!  And it might not even be entertaining to read!  So many sentences should not start with 'and'!  Where was I?  Oh, yeah.  Cross-training.  Er- CROSS TRAINING!!!!!  Woooooo!

I contend (because I wanna) that cross-training can be whatever exercise, other than running, you find enjoyable and actually do on your non-running days. I try to work in an hour of Yoga a week, plus an hour of Arms-n-Abs on a different day.  The key word in that last sentence, of course, is 'try'.  When I'm not dealing with a running-related injury, it's a whole lot easier to skip going to the gym and just pound the pavement.

I can hold some yoga poses for hours.  I'm just that good.

Since training for last November's half-marathon, I've had an on-again/off-again relationship with calf, knee and hip pain.  I've had more pain-free days than pain-full days, but my knee started protesting again -loudly- during a run a few weeks ago.  Since, I've been running fewer miles, walking more, and RICEing (rest, ice, compression and elevation) my knee each time it starts to hurt.  After a half-mile walk/half-mile run "workout" earlier in the week, I found myself with plenty of time to get to Yoga class at the Y where we have a family membership.  I arrived early enough to lay out my mat, arrange my water bottle and shoes, put down the ladybug that had hitched a ride in on my shirt, and send a guilt trip text message to my sister about how everyone else there had a friend.  (Turns out, I did, too.  The ladybug stayed right next to my mat throughout the entire class, and climbed quietly back onto my arm as we started the meditation practice at the end.)  Here's what I love about yoga: I don't even feel like I'm working out, but my muscles are sore afterward.  Using the connection between body, mind, and breath really does enable me to do things I wouldn't have expected to be able to do.

I look just like that when I do it, but with the bulges in different spots.
p.s. Gross, right?  Shouldn't they have photoshopped that out?

Once the class was over and I had set my ladybug friend free again, I spoke to the instructor about how my feet cramp up when I'm on the tops of my toes.  She suggested stretching my toes (and the rest of my body) often, continuing to practice Yoga, and she directed me to my new favorite website, where ancient meets present day.  That night, I searched for information about my foot-cramping problem and learned that-- wait.  Do you want to guess?  I bet you can.  While you think on it, please enjoy this lovely picture:

Sun rising behind the mist of Niagara Falls

If you guessed that my foot cramps are related to my intermittent calf, hip and knee pain, you win! It turns out that all those parts are connected (dur) and if you stand, unbalanced, with bad posture, you probably also walk with your feet going wonky, and you might even run with your hips swaying, back arched, and your heels hitting the ground way harder than necessary.  I do all of these things.  As discouraging as it has been to learn that I don't know how to run, and that in fact, I'm so bad at running that I've caused actual damage to my body, I found hope in this article!  Basically, if I consistently practice Yoga and incorporate some breathing and posturing techniques into my running, I can expect relief from my pains.

I made another Great Discovery at the gym the next day.  I can use the elliptical machine and the weights without hurting myself!  I ran on the elliptical for 20 minutes without even a twinge of knee pain, and followed up with a round of upper body and core work, also without pain.  Of course, I also didn't feel all my worries melt away, or get the relief and relaxation that come after a good run.  To put it a different way, "marijuana" will never replace my "crack".  But it isn't a bad stand-in.

What's your "crack"?