No Thanks...I Have Enough Race Shirts

Well, folks, as of today, my little blog is two years old. Two years ago I wrote my first posts...and...well, the rest is history. According to various etiquette-savvy Web sites, the traditional gift for a second anniversary is cotton, but as we runners know, cotton is bad for running. So why are most race T-shirts cotton? Who knows. I have about 30 of them. I'm wearing one right now (Dexter-Ann Arbor Run 2009). However, the modern equivalent is china. Therefore, I will take one piece at a time of this. So get cracking, people.

Monday marked the official launch of my 18-week Summer-Fall '09 New York Marathon Training Plan. For this, my third tour of 26.2 miles, I have chosen a training plan which is completely different from any I have done before: a FIRST plan. After some consideration I decided to use the plan for first-time marathoners. I'm not a first-timer, but I don't think I'm ready for the intensity of the "FIRST to the Finish" plan (unlike certain crazy people who shall remain nameless. but still crazy. you know who you are). The FIRST Marathon plan has enough speed work to keep me happy, and only requires me to run three days a week. I slipped in a fourth day of running, which will be my Thursday workouts with the Running Fit 501 gang; this leaves me two days of cross-training (hel-LO weightlifting!) and one day of rest, which will be my traditional rest day of Friday. Yesterday my workout called for six intervals of one minute at a fast pace followed by three minutes at an easy pace. For these Monday workouts, my "Key Workout #1," my fast pace will always be my 10K race pace (7:30) minus 45 seconds = 6:45. I handled this workout without a huge amount of difficulty and it left me with a satisfied tired feeling. This training plan packs on a lot more speed work than any I have done before, and I am truly hoping that as a side effect I can bring down my 5K personal best a little further. I would love to crack 22:00 before the end of the year.

Tomorrow I have to run six miles, broken into two-mile chunks of easy-tempo-easy. For my Wednesday workouts, "Key Workout #2," my "tempo" pace will be my 10K race pace (7:30) plus 15-30 seconds. Therefore, I have to run my two tempo miles between 7:45 and 8:00. Yeesh. Well, I can't complain...I signed on for this madness. I am a crazy obsessed runner chick, after all. I have to live up to my reputation.

So what happened to "oh, I'm just going to take it easy this time, my hard work of the year is done." I qualified for Boston in May, so what's the big deal? Well...I love a challenge, and this is going to take my running in a totally different direction. I still think of myself as little more than an ongoing physiological experiment, and I treat my body as a laboratory of one. I guess I'm just curious to see what happens. Sort of like "hey guys, watch this!" but without the possibility of flames or explosions or people crashing into things. No blood will be spilled nor runners harmed in the making of this marathon experience. Maybe.

Speaking of races of all shapes and sizes, here are a few pictures of me racing which I dug up on the Internets:

At the Fit 5K in Novi, where I set my current PR of 22:13. Test-driving my Michigan Alumni shirt for chafing in preparation for the Cleveland Marathon.



Dexter-Ann Arbor 10K, where I set my current PR of 47:13. Test-driving my Summer Stealth Bomber outfit. It's fab.

Flirt with Dirt 5K trail race, just before the finish. I'm in the process of totally chicking that guy who held me up for half of the race. See ya later, dude.

And on that note, I'm off to bed...I'm trying to make myself go to sleep earlier. 5:45 am arrives awfully early. I've been staying up too late reading, a longstanding habit which stretches back into elementary school.

Green Mountain Relay Pictures!

Assorted pictures from my GMR experience. I took most of them but I "borrowed" a few from my relay teammates if I thought I looked halfway decent in them. Plus I wouldn't have any pictures of me actually running if it wasn't for you! Thanks, guys. :)

Bouhaki helping me pack for the trip. Kitty help is always appreciated...mostly. He was removed from my pajamas shortly thereafter, but immediately moved to some running clothes.

At the starting line in Jeffersonville, Vermont, on Saturday morning.

Receiving final instructions from our fearless leader.

The mighty warriors of Van One: Thomas, Eric, TK, me, Tamar, and Connor.

All dressed up and nowhere to go...except run 7.9 miles through the Green Mountains!

The covered bridge I ran through on my first leg, which was the whole reason I chose my place as Runner #3. It was lovely.

Midway through my first leg.

There I go, blazing off down the road...up yet another hill...

Passing over a small river on my first leg. What do you see here? ROCKS! OMG ROCKS!¹

Scenery on the road during my first leg.

All done with my first leg and very tired and sweaty! The "sweat seat" in the van lived up to its name.

Flowers on the town commons at one of the exchanges.

Enjoying ice cream at the Ben & Jerry's factory after our van went "off duty."

Peonies outside the Old Hancock Hotel in Hancock, where we ate dinner Saturday evening.

At the evening van-van exchange, waiting for Runner #12 to finish so we could get back on the road!

Making hay in the fading summer twilight.

Ready to get it on with my third and last leg, about 5:45 Sunday morning.

I'm not sure what, exactly, I'm looking at here...probably a map.

I ran alongside this river for most of my third leg. Its musical gurgling was my accompaniment.

Morning mist over the forest.

Finishing my last leg! Go, Eric!

Me and TK posing in our Dump Runners Club headbands at the Winhall Highway Maintenance Facility. I am finally a full-fledged member of the DRC.

The Van One comrades, after we were completely done. When's breakfast?

1: I was in geology heaven for the entire trip; I hadn't seen so many rocks since I was in graduate school. On the way back to the city I completely freaked out when we passed this roadcut. I mean, I yelled and frantically fumbled for my iPhone to take a picture and then nearly cried when I missed my opportunity.

Green Mountain Relay Finish

I'm home (finally), clean( finally), and my nasty dirty laundry is tumbling in the dryer as we speak. I took 171 pictures over the weekend, which is far more than I want to deal with right now, but for the moment, here's one of me and my amazing teammates at the finish line in Bennington.

Maria, James, Jeff, Robert, Tavia, Connor, Thomas, Michael, me, Eric, Tamar, and Robyn: YOU GUYS RULE!!!!

Fireflies at Night

My weekend of adventure is drawing to a close. The 2009 Green Mountain Relay is over. My team finished in 26 hours and 29 minutes with an 8:03 average pace. All of us are incredibly dirty and tired. I'm on my way back to New York, looking forward to a hot shower, a beer (or two) and a good night's rest of more than 2 hours.

My second leg late last night was one of the most interesting runs I have ever done. I started around 9:40 pm after the sun was down and it was completely dark. We were required to wear a headlamp, and it was absolutely necessary, because I was out in the middle of nowhere and there were no lights anywhere. Dust (pollen?) and bugs swirled in the beam of light in front of my head. I started out quickly; my first mile was 7:59. I was feeling more energetic than I was for my first leg ten hours earlier.

I was out on a dark rural road, with nothing but the sound of my breathing, footsteps, and a softly rushing stream to keep me company. My world had narrowed to what was illuminated in the square of light 20 feet in front of me. I heard the occasional critter rustling in the underbrush, and the solo peep of a solitary frog. Then I noticed the fireflies. They twinkled and danced above the fields I knew were on my right (to my left was a sheer rock wall) and glittered in the trees on the hillsides. It was beautiful and extraordinary. I felt so fortunate to see it, to experience this on such a wonderful summer night, the longest night of the year.

I maintained a low-eight-minute mile pace for the rest of my 5.1-mile run, spurred on as much by my high energy level as by the sensation of the dark pressing in around me. I ran as if there was an unknown entity on my heels. I finished my leg in 42 minutes and slapped the hand of my teammate to send him on his way.

The rest of the night passed in a blur; around 12:30 am we met the other van at a major exchange and subsequently went off duty. We grabbed a couple of hours' worth of napping at a motel close to the exchange where we would commence our final morning legs. Two hours wasn't nearly enough. Disoriented and tired, we waited in the growing predawn light for the graveyard shift runners to finish. By the time I set off on my final leg at 5:53, the sun was up (albeit behind clouds) and the birds were singing. I finally got to see the gorgeous countryside which had been obscured on my night leg. My route followed a river for a long way, a gentle descent which turned away at mile 3.2 to ascend a mile-long hill all the way to the finish, reminiscent of my grueling first leg of the previous day. I churned my way to the finish at 4.4 miles, completing the leg in 36:52 (8:41 pace). I handed off to my teammate and my part in the relay was done.

After the other van went active, we got breakfast and then drove to the finish line in Bennington, where we waited for a couple of hours while the other van completed their legs. When the final runner on our team approached the finish line, we all joined him for the final 50 or so meters before the end. We all crossed together, a team until the very end.

This was my first experience with relay racing...and I don't want it to be the last. I'm so glad I did it. See you guys next year!

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Bring on the Ben & Jerry's!

My first relay leg is complete. 7.9 miles, an hour and ten minutes and change. I was slowed considerably by the hills. Oh, those hills! There's nothing like them in Michigan. My legs felt like rubber. But it was such gorgeous countryside, I couldn't be upset. Plus, I ran through a covered bridge!

My van of six runners finished our legs, and now that we're "off duty," we're taking it easy. The big exchange took place next to the Green Mountain Coffee Roasters plant. It smelled amazing, and of course I got some coffee. And then...the Ben & Jerry's ice cream factory! Really! Now, if I can have a pint of beer before my next leg, this will be the best race day ever.

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Green Mountain Relay

Howdy everyone. I am currently in scenic Colchester, Vermont, because tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM the great Green Mountain Relay adventure begins. My team of five women and seven men, all fantastic running chicks and dudes, drove up from New York City today. I have been looking forward to this event for months.

And when we arrived this afternoon...I went and ran four miles.

I will be "liveblogging" via iPhone over the course of the weekend as the relay unfolds. Come back for updates!

Now, time for dinner...and a couple of beers!

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Flirt with Dirt 5K: It's My First Time, Be Gentle

I popped my trail racing cherry Saturday at the Flirt with Dirt in Novi. This is not to say I had never beat feet in a forest before. Way back in the day I used to run on the Potowatomi Trail in Pinckney, which I was able to access by walking across the street from my house. Really. Feel free to be jealous, fellow southeast Michiganians. I am envious of my nine-years-ago self, having one of the region's premiere trails within walking distance of my house, but at the time I was a lackadasical runner, hardly serious at all, a brief spurt of action centered on a six-week span, and really did only flirt with the dirt before leaving it high and dry and forgotten when I moved to a different town.

I was ready to atone for past trail-teasing wrongs when I lined up with the field for this past Saturday's 5K. I knew I wanted to take it easy and be very careful because the LAST thing I needed to have happen was to twist my ankle on a tree root, because the Green Mountain Relay is fast approaching and I knew that my fearless leader (hi TK!) would kill me if I injured myself. So racing to beat the devil was right out. The race started on grass and the swish swish swish sound of shoes on grass brought me back to my cross country days. Then we ran through the gravel parking lot and into the woods. I hit mile 1 in 7:57, but most of that was on the grass/gravel. Once I entered the woods my pace dropped dramatically. I had to concentrate on not tripping and doing a faceplant into the dirt. The trail followed a crazy convoluted course and I was weaving from side to side, hardly ever getting a chance to run straight ahead. I never went on autopilot; I had to pay attention every second to where I was putting my feet. Then I got stuck behiind someone who was slower than me and I just could. not. pass. him. I should have shouted, "ON YOUR LEFT!" and maybe that would have made him move aside...but I'm too polite. Shocking, I know, what with all the swearing and bodily functions I talk about. When the trail exited the woods about 50 meters before the finish, I swung wide to the left, turned on the afterburners, and blew that guy away. I had so much fuel left in the tank it was ridiculous. I hit the finish in 28:54, which under normal road-based circumstances is a time which would make me wince and think "what the hell?" but this was trail running. As my friend put it later, "It's a different beast." Indeed. However, I still managed to place first in my age group. It was a fun day in the woods. There was a bit of mud (I got some smears on my legs...I guess that counts as my "flirt" with dirt, eh?), and it began to rain about a mile into the race, which seemed fitting, somehow.

The aspect of this race I was must stuck by was how quiet it was. It was so much more hushed than a road race. I heard the sound of raindrops pattering on the forest canopy above my head, I heard the occasional shout from a fellow runner deep in the woods, but other than that...most of the time I could barely hear the soft whisper of my own footsteps on the dirt. The event was sold out, totally at capacity...but one never could have guessed that from trail level.

Races, races, and more races...when will the madness end? I just...can't...stop...HELP!

Final stats: 28:54/9:17 per mile/1st out of 12 AG/10 out of 94 women/28 out of 155 overall

Karma....Bites

Or would that be dogma bites?

After my improbable string of good luck, I began to get uneasy. Surely this was too good to last. A successful BQ effort, two 10K PRs in two weeks, getting picked for the Mackinac Bridge Run and the New York City Marathon, winning the Mega Millions lottery...

Okay, that last one was totally made up. (If only.) However, the rest was true. I knew it was too good to last. Something had to happen to bring my big head back down to earth. Like the proverbial balloon, my ego was popped via a set of very sharp dog teeth. Yes, of the infinite number of available vector paths in the space-time continuum, two of them intersected at a very unfortunate juncture.

It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon when my running partner, FK, and I set out on the Lake Losee trail in the Pinckney Rec Area. What lay ahead was a three-mile loop of bicycle-free trail. Shortly after we started, the trail went up a steep, pebbly hill. Coming down the hill toward us was a man who was being dragged along by two dogs. The man was scrambling to stay on his feet as they came flying down the trail. Upon seeing us, the dogs lunged forward even harder. The trail was narrow, and the man tried to reel in his dogs and move to the side to allow us to pass. The dogs were lunging at FK as he went in front of me. The man said, "Oh, they're friendly." As I passed, the dogs were both standing on their hind legs straining and pulling toward me. I went by and the bigger of the two dogs leaped out as hard as it could and I felt a nasty sharp pain lance across my left arm. It happened so fast I was already ten feet beyond them before it really registered. I thought, "well, maybe that dog just scratched me with its claws." But having owned a dog, and having felt her claws on me as a matter of course over the years, I knew I hadn't been clawed. It just didn't feel right. I looked at my arm and there were teeth marks surrounded by a wet smear of saliva. I looked again. I stopped and said, "Jesus fucking Christ, that dog bit me! MOTHERFUCKER!" I was furious and upset. I looked helplessly back down the trail. As much as I wanted to sprint back down the trail and confront the guy, what good would that do? He wasn't even within sight any more. I spat out another furious "GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" glared at my arm, and then gestured at the trail: "Well, let's get on with it." I grumbled and muttered the rest of the way and by the time we finished and returned to the parking lot, the teeth indentations had turned an angry red and the faint shadow of a bruise was beginning to appear. Now, several days on, the scratches left by teeth have faded to faint red lines but the bruise remains, a ring of purple with a clot of yellow in the middle. And it still hurts.

What do y'all think? Should I have stopped the moment I felt the dog's teeth make contact with my skin and raised a huge fuss? Fortunately, my skin was not broken, but...a strange dog bit me. On the arm, for crying out loud. Four feet off the ground. What if there had been a small child on the trail instead? Its cheek might have looked awful tempting. What's more, the guy never made any attempt to verbally control his dogs. No "sit," "stay," "down," or even a simple "no!" Nothing. Just the lame (and completely inaccurate, IMO) "Oh, they're friendly." Yeah. What the fuck ever, asshole. In my experience it's the dogs who are announced as being "friendly" that are the ones you need to watch out for, like the black bear in dog's clothing which attacked our then-three-month-old puppy on the sidewalk. As this tank of a dog came lumbering toward me and Hannah, its owner called out, "Oh, don't worry, he's friendly," just before the beast, hunched and bristling, plowed into both of us, knocking Hannah over onto the concrete. I was completely horrified and had no idea what to do. Hannah was squealing and I was on the verge of screaming myself and then the wretched "friendly" dog's owner arrived and grabbed it by the flab at the back of its neck and hauled it back into its house. Another "friendly" dog that was anything but. Every single time I go by that house and that jerkoff dog barks at me and runs up and down the fence in its yard, I narrow my eyes and think, "Friendly my ASS!"

So anyway...despite my tendency to shrink from any hint of confrontation, I think I blew it by not making a scene (okay, maybe just a small scene) immediately after the unfortunate intersection of Vector A (dog teeth) and Vector B (my bicep). I'd like to say, "Next time I won't be such a WIMP!" except I really hope there is not a next time.

In other news, this evening was the first gathering of this summer's session of Running Fit 501, the group training program I did last year. We met at the RF warehouse for a two-mile time trial, which I did in 14:21 (6:58 and 7:22). Our little Chelsea/Dexter group has grown considerably and tomorrow we have our first group run in Dexter, an easy run, since we had what amounted to a mini-speed workout tonight. After this, our Thursday group runs will be speed work(maybe some hill intervals, too? I'm not sure) at the track in Dexter. This is good, because I want to work on my speed. I'm determined to break 22:00 in a 5K before the end of the year. Bring on the 800 meter repeats!

And now, some random pictures:

If only it were this easy!

Randy Step, the owner of Running Fit, decides to forgo a plate and just eat pizza right out of the box. This was during the Swamp Party (literally, a kegger in the middle of a swamp) after the Tooth, Fang & Claw 10K "fun run" last week. I ran it in something like 52:00, got a free pint glass (leftover swag from some long-ago race), was harrassed by mosquitoes, drank cheap beer, and had a great time.

Speaking of bad beer...this can of Busch Light sits in the middle of chalk marks in the parking lot of a defunct Service Merchandise in Westland, which was the starting point for my first-ever outing with the Motown-Ann Arbor Hash House Harriers last Sunday. Yes, I am no longer a hash virgin. There was mud, mosquitoes, poison ivy (I didn't get any on me because I wore pants) and lots of really, really cheap beer. I drank...Labatt Blue Light...out of a can...forgive me, O beer snobs!

Finishing up the two-mile time trial. I'll see all my RF501 peeps at Thursday's group run!

I can't hold it in...

I'm in!

NEW YORK CITY MARATHON 2009!

Oh My God!

Congratulations! On behalf of the Governor’s Council on Physical Fitness, Health and Sports, we are pleased to notify you that you have been selected in the lottery to participate in the sixth annual Mackinac Bridge Labor Day Run! Winning entrants who will be asked to serve as ambassadors will receive a separate notification.

Oh, wow! Oh, holy shit! I guess I know what I'll be doing on Labor Day.

I entered the lottery for the Bridge Run last year but was not selected. Perseverance, people! Now, let's see if I can extend my lucky streak to the New York City Marathon lottery...

Race Reports: Two For Two

People. I need race rehab or something. Seriously. Since April 29 I have run five races: two 5Ks, two 10Ks, and the marathon. I set personal records at four of those races, including one which stood for all of eight days before falling like a house of cards. I already wrote up the two 5Ks and the marathon. I'm here today to discuss my latest racing addiction, the 10K.

It started with the Bayshore race on the 23rd. I was in Traverse City in order to support a couple of running friends (FK & JF) who were running the Bayshore Marathon. I decided that six days off were more than enough. I hadn't run a single step since the Cleveland Marathon the previous Sunday. I was itching to get back on the road. Thus, I signed up for the 10K at the race expo Friday evening. Of course I had come to Traverse City prepared to run; I had a whole separate bag packed only with running clothes (multiple outfits, if you must know).

I had my highly irritating year-old PR in the back of my mind and I really wanted to break it, to run under 50:00, but I didn't know what my body was ready for. I had been hobbling around like a cripple all week and my legs were just beginning to feel normal again. So, I thought, just run and enjoy yourself. It's supposed to be fun, after all. You're not training for anything. Just run and have a good time and remind yourself why you love this sport so much. I didn't get off to an auspicious start, trapped as I was way in the back of the pack behind people walking four abreast and such. I did the usual bob-and-weave until I was running in the clear and could open up my stride. The course was a straight-up out-and-back along the Traverse Bay shoreline, and was quite beautiful, as well as pancake-flat. My legs felt surprisingly loose and limber, and I let myself flow over the road like water. Shortly before the turnaround I passed a somewhat familiar face (that's what you get for posting pictures of yourself on your blog!) for which I had been keeping an eye out: it was Nitmos. I saw him coming toward me on the other side of the road and we gave each other a silent "hey, I know you" point. I reached the halfway point in the vicinity of 24:00, and, still feeling fresh, kicked it up a couple of notches. I started picking out people ahead of me to pass based on completely shallow, arbitrary reasons. That chick with the way, way too short shorts? Toast. The teenager who was fading fast? See ya. The douchebag who would zip by me only to fade and slow (lather, rinse, repeat on that one)? Gone. That guy with the ugly-ass outfit? Eat my dust. I sped up even more and before I knew it I was rounding the final turn onto the track where only 300 meters of all-weather surface separated me and the finish. I pounded down the homestretch and knew a PR was all wrapped up when I hit the line and Garmy said 48:13.

Splits: 8:02, 7:48, 7:44, 7:49, 7:40, 7:24. Final chip time: 48:11 (7:46/mile avg); 7/134 AG; 47/849 women; 207/1419 overall; NEW PR by 1:49.

Note the laserlike focus as I near the finish line! My Bondi Band matches my shorts. This was not an accident.

The classic "stop the watch!" finish line pose.

Nitmos pointed out that I missed out on age group hardware by a mere 11 seconds. If I'd finished in 48:00 I would have been in fifth place in my AG and therefore would have collected some bling. Next time!

After changing into clean clothes, I took a shuttle bus out to the mile 20 spectator spot on the marathon course and, armed with my Big Sign, waited for JF & FK to appear. In due time they both did, and I ran with each of them briefly. It was the very least I could do for FK, who ran with me for three miles during Cleveland.

Not content with this effort, I decided to run the Dexter-Ann Arbor 10K on Sunday the 31st. I wanted to erase all traces of my overly round numbered PR from the race last year, even though I had successfully killed it a week earlier. The morning of the race was unusually chilly for this time of year; when I got up it was 39 degrees. Nonetheless, I wore my sleek new running skirt and tank top outfit (let's call it Summer Stealth Bomber) which I had purchased at the race expo on Saturday. Once again I found myself stuck too far back in the huge field when the race began, although in retrospect this was most likely beneficial because it prevented me from tearing out too fast and blowing my wad too early in the race. Once I had delicately threaded my way up to my pace peers, I relaxed. I felt amazing, even better than I had the week before. I found the coveted "my body is a machine" groove and let myself glide over the road with next to no effort. Even during the final mile I felt superb, and powered up the nasty hill to the finish. I was working very hard at the end, and I started to feel a sick burning sensation which I can only assume was lactic acid buildup. I crossed the finish line knowing I had crushed my PR again; Garmy said 47:15.

Splits: 7:57; 7:32, 7:28, 7:26, 7:27, 7:23. Final chip time: 47:13 (7:36/mile avg). 9/170 AG; 34/876 women; 168/1624 overall. NEW PR by 58 seconds!

Here I come!

I think I look like a "real runner" in this picture. Why, I'm moving so fast I'm out of focus!

After an incredible month of running, I am taking it easy, at least until 1) the Flirt with Dirt 5K trail race on June 13 and 2) the Green Mountain Relay the weekend of the 20-21. I'm fully recovered (as far as I can tell) from the marathon and I'm enjoying running on my own terms again.

Thursday Thoughts

It's post-marathon time, which means lazy mornings sleeping in, eating random things for dinner (tonight I had sautéed radishes, wilted radish greens, and a piece of whole wheat bread smeared with olive oil), and that uneasy sense of well, what the hell do I do now?

Write a long, rambling blog post infested with bullet points, that's what!

• Summer is looming just over the horizon. How do I know? Because yesterday morning after I took my shower, even after toweling off I was still sweaty and damp. Additionally, when I came out of my office building after work on Wednesday the temperature was about 20 degrees warmer and the humidity 50% more oppressive than when I entered it at 8:00 am.

• You know you're a runner when you use Body Glide for things other than sports bra chafage. I'll leave that one up to your imaginations.

• During the Cleveland Marathon I passed a man who was wearing a sign on his back which read: "110 Marathons...But Who's Counting?" Amazing. If I manage to run a quarter of that number I will be ecstatic.

• On my run Wednesday morning I saw something I had never seen before: a domestic pet rabbit huddled under a bush in someone's front yard. I passed by and thought, That was not a cat. I doubled back to take a closer look and yes indeed, it was a large black domesticated rabbit of indeterminate breed, a doe (female) by the look of her prominent dewlap. (How do I know this? Three years of 4-H rabbit club and 10 years of having a bunny.) I tried to approach her but she hopped away. I was totally confounded as to what to do. This animal clearly had no business being alone in someone's front yard at 6:30 am. There was really nothing I could do, so I left her and continued on my run.

• On Monday, May 18 I went to my long, LONG-awaited Animal Collective concert in Royal Oak. Even though it was the day after the marathon, there was no way I was going to miss it. With sore and aching legs I took myself out on the town. And oh, oh, OH was it ever amazing. I haven't had that much fun at a concert in years. True, I was at least 10 years older than the majority of attendees, but I didn't let that bother me. Am I not edgy enough to hang with the hipsters? Even though my own creaky hips were complaining vociferously by the end of the night? I got my groove on, I rocked out, I boogied, I jumped and bounced and screamed and sang and got breathless and sprinted to the bathroom only to hear the opening chords of "Summertime Clothes" while I was still in the john and ran out of there so fast I left a cloud of toilet paper lint in my wake. Hearing "My Girls" and "Summertime Clothes" live was just...just...so fucking awesome I can't even begin to describe it. "Don't cool off...I like your warmth..." Yeah.

• I signed up for another summer of Running Fit 501. I enjoyed my session with the program last summer so much that I decided to do it again even though my plans for the rest of the year are amorphous. At the moment I'm still riding my BQ high (hey didja know I qualified for the Boston Marathon?) and thus I have avoided the post-marathon blues like I had last fall after Detroit. However, I do have a few things in mind. One, I would like to do the Akron Marathon. Two, I put my name into the New York City Marathon lottery. I will know in June if I was chosen. If I get selected in the NYC lottery hell yeah I'm doing it! In the more immediate future I will be jet-planing off to New York City in three weeks for the Green Mountain Relay as one member of a 12-person team. I asked for the Runner #3 slot on the team because Leg 3 includes a covered bridge. How could I not take the covered bridge route? Covered bridge...Vermont...June...country roads...oh yeah!
  

• And lastly, I have a new addition to the Wall of Fame:
  

Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon 2009: If You Have Forty-Five Seconds to Spare

Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent six years on your trail
Six full years of my life on your trail.¹

Where it all begins.

Ah, marathon morning. Is there a time which is at once so peaceful yet so calamitous? The stillness of a late spring dawn, cold and quiet, but what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and at 4:35 am a runner awakens in the blackness of her bedchamber and lies motionless, staring at the ceiling, thinking, I am going to run a marathon today. And then the flurry of activity so early in the day, the donning of the special outfit, the arranging of the items, the packing of the bag, the trimming of the toenails, the brewing of the coffee. The heart rate monitor is strapped on, the Body Glide is applied, the D-Chip is fastened, the wild hair is contained, the laces are tied. The laces of the shoes (Brooks Adrenaline 9s) which will carry the runner girl 26.2 miles to either glory or heartbreak.

I ate a banana and a scrambled egg for breakfast, followed by a cup of coffee. Then I took two anti-diarrhea pills. I wanted to avoid the porta-potty fiasco which befell me during the Detroit Marathon last fall. In doing so, I broke the cardinal rule of marathon racing: never try anything new the day of your marathon. I had never taken anti-diarrhea medication before. It was a reckless and potentially disastrous move, but I was determined not to let my GI tract have the upper hand.

We rolled into downtown Cleveland around 6:15 am. At 6:50 I was still trapped in the seemingly endless line for the porta-potties. I squeezed myself into the crowded field as the national anthem was ending and managed to thread my way to a spot near the 3:40 pace group. The sun was rising into a cloudless sky, the temperature was about 45 degrees, and a stiff Lake Erie breeze was coursing down East 9th St. into my face. There was some noise, the crowd surged forward and relaxed, surged and relaxed, and then surged and kept moving. This was it. No hesitation, no doubts, no excuses. It was time for me to run.

Before I had gone even half a mile, I heard it from behind me: "Fuck Michigan!" I turned and saw some guy behind me with a smirk on his face. I shrugged and said, "I knew I was going to get shit for wearing this shirt!"

Brazenly flaunting my Michigan allegiance all over the streets of Cleveland. The nerve.

For the record, that guy never passed me. I totally crushed him. So there.

In addition to my U of M Alumni Association T-shirt, I wore a Dump Runners Club headband which I received from the head Dump Runner himself. My awesomely retro DRC headband plus one of my Bondi Bands kept the 'fro nicely contained and the sweat out of my eyes.

In the very early part of the race I had to deal with a serious problem. The night before, I had set Garmy in its cradle for overnight charging. Except instead of charging, it...didn't. It anti-charged. I got it out to strap it to my wrist once we reached Cleveland and when I pressed the power button, nothing happened. Nothing. The screen was as blank and expressionless as Keanu Reeves' face. Immediately I started to wail, because my entire marathon race strategy was connected to Garmy. My mom came to my rescue, taking back her Garmin 305 which she had given to my dad (my dad ran the half marathon) and giving it to me. But her Garmy was not my Garmy, configured the way I liked it. I got the Auto Lap set up to record each mile, and the display to show pace, distance, HR, and elapsed time, but when we started I realized it was also going to be angrily barking at me because my heart rate had immediately exceeded my mom's maximum HR, and I had programmed her Garmy months ago to chirp if her HR went above a certain level. That had to be stopped RIGHT NOW. I remembered how irritated I had been during the Martian Half Marathon in April when some woman's Garmin kept jingling incessantly, and how I had sped up during the second half of the race for the sole purpose of getting the hell away from her and her annoying watch. Irritation, not strategy or physical conditioning, propelled me to a PR in that race. Thus, I spent the majority of the first mile frantically pressing buttons to make the heart rate alert stop. When I finally lifted my head I was already passing by the baseball stadium. I took the time to look around and enjoy the view from on high as I crossed the Lorain Ave. bridge over the Cuyahoga River and the Flats to the West Side.

My carefully planned three-part race strategy was shot in the first mile. I hit mile 1 at 8:03, which was considerably faster than I had intended (no faster than 8:30 under pain of death!). I forced myself to slow down with limited success. My splits were all over the place. I was executing poorly and I knew it. Yet, it was a beautiful morning for a run, I felt amazing, and I couldn't help myself. The course passed by the West Side Market, St. Ignatius High School, and onward through historic Ohio City to Lakewood with its beautiful old homes along Edgewater Drive. Crowd support in this area was excellent, and I received a number of hearty "Go Blues!" from Michigan fans along the course. There was one guy with a huge Michigan flag attached to the side of his truck, wearing a Michigan sweatshirt and hat, and when he saw me passing by he yelled, "Now that's what I'm talking about!" I pointed at him and yelled back, "Go Blue!"

On the course in Lakewood.

Passing by Browns Stadium again. Almost halfway there.

Miles 1-13: 8:03, 8:40, 8:23, 8:18, 8:09, 8:09, 8:22, 8:16, 8:19, 8:18, 8:41, 8:29, 8:13. Half marathon split: 1:50:03 (8:24/mile pace).

After I passed the half marathon split near Burke Lakefront Airport, the course began the long march eastward on North Marginal Rd., a three-mile straight shot sandwiched between the highway and the lakeshore. After driving this portion of the course the week before, I knew this could be a potentially dangerous area in terms of my morale. And so it was: spectator support dwindled to nothing, my only accompaniment was the whir and rush of cars (and the occasional honk), and the sun glared down, unhindered by any tree. Around mile 14.5 I took my only porta-potty break of the race. The anti-diarrhea meds had done their best, but I still had to stop. Until that point I was on pace for a 3:40 finish. I had a 3:40 pace band on my wrist upon which I had been keeping a close eye, and I knew I was well ahead of my Boston Marathon qualifying time of 3:45:59. If I could maintain my speed, a BQ was in the bag.

Oh, hubris! I was sort of asking for it, wasn't I?

After the long tiresome drag of North Marginal Rd,. the course followed East Blvd and then Martin Luther King Drive, two beautiful, winding, tree-shaded streets encompassing miles 16-21. I was still feeling energetic, eyeing my wristband, mindful of my pace, taking in the scenery, enjoying myself.

On MLK Dr., around mile 19. Looking good.

At mile 21 the course went up a short but painfully steep hill to St. Clair Ave. I walked through the water stop there, at the top of the hill, and getting moving again was difficult. I was starting to drag. The end was tantalizingly close, but as every marathon runner knows, the real race takes place in the final 6.2 miles. It was time to buckle down and put my training to the test.

And then, around mile 22, the pain ripped through my left hamstring, the same pain which had caused me to abort one of my runs several weeks earlier. My stride became lopsided as I began favoring my left leg. Pain shot up and down the back of my leg with each step and I groaned inwardly, wondering if this was it, if it was all over, if I was going to be forced to stop and walk. Then, unbidden, a little ditty swam up from the murk in my mind. Just keep swimming...just keep swimming...It was the character Dory from the film Finding Nemo.



Just keep swimming...just keep swimming...

So that's what I did. One foot in front of the other, just keep swimming. The course entered St. Clair Ave. at East 82nd St. and it would not turn until East 40th St. Two miles of pure BLAH. I tried not to look at the street signs as they painfully ticked off one by one. I alternated that thought with "Boston, Boston, Boston." My leg hurt like hell. My calves were beginning to tense up. I limped. Just keep swimming...Boston, Boston, Boston. At mile 23 I peeked at my watch and I had been running for 3:16. I did a fast calculation in my head: 3.2 miles left. I have 29 minutes to run 3.2 miles. That's essentially a 5K. Can I do it? I've done it before. 3 miles in 29 minutes, that's nothing.

However, this wasn't me starting a 5K race fresh as a daisy with a spring in my step and a couple of sub-7:00 miles in me. This was mile 23 of a marathon and I was tired and in pain. The thought that I might miss my goal by mere seconds weighed heavily on my mind. I stared at the pavement, the three miles left to run feeling more like 20.

Then, at the corner of St Clair and E. 40th just after mile 23 I looked up and my running partner, FK, was standing on the sidewalk. I was so glad to see him. He jumped into the road and started running beside me. I groaned, "Oh my God, I'm so tired." He inquired how I was feeling. I said, "My hamstring hurts. I just want this to be over." We ran along E. 40th and turned onto Euclid Ave. around mile 24. I said, "Talk to me...about anything. Just talk."So he did. He rambled on and we made the northward turn onto E. 18th at mile 25. Only 1.2 miles to go. I looked at my watch. Holy shit, it was going to be close. Now is the time, I thought. You want this so badly. Don't give up.

I made the final turn onto Lakeside Ave. at mile 25.5. I could see far off in the distance the Cleveland City Hall building which was adjacent to the finish line. It might as well have been ten miles away. That's what it looked like to my exhausted eyes.

So close.

My running partner left me on the course just before mile 26. I was alone, ready to engage in the final battle against the clock, against myself.

My dad took this picture from the sideline. I heard him shouting my name as I ran past and all I could do was roll my eyes helplessly in his direction.

SO CLOSE. Within 100 meters of the finish.

I could see the blue banner over the finish line. My heart was thundering in my chest and I was panting. I didn't look at my watch. I didn't want to know. I screamed at myself inside my head: "HOW BADLY DO YOU WANT THIS? DON'T LET IT SLIP AWAY! JUST RUN! RUN! RUN! JUST FUCKING RUN HARDER THAN YOU'VE EVER RUN IN YOUR LIFE! RUNNNNNNN!!!"

And so I did. I ran. My entire world narrowed down to that little strip of blue. There was a dull roar in my ears which I was dimly aware of as crowd noise. I could barely hear it.

You want suffering, here it is. Gosh, doesn't this make running a marathon look like so much FUN?

AL...

MOST...(woah, check out those calf muscles!)

THERE....ARRGH!

As you can see, there was no lifting of my arms in victory or punching at the air as I crossed the finish line. I was totally, utterly spent. I could barely lift my hand to stop Garmy. I looked down. 3:45:16.

I had done it, yet it barely registered. I was preoccupied with the fact that I felt as if I were about to collapse. I moved to the side and put my hands on my knees. My chest was heaving. I saw two pairs of feet appear: race volunteers who had come to see if I was okay. One of them voiced as much and that's when I pushed myself up to a standing position, took the proffered bottle of water, and blurted out, "I JUST QUALIFIED FOR THE BOSTON MARATHON!" They congratulated me and I staggered off through the finishing corral. That was when it finally crashed down on me like a ton of bricks. I had done it. I had really, truly, done it. I started to laugh hysterically, a whooping, crazed sound. Then I began crying at the same time. I covered my face with my hands. Someone said, "I hope those are tears of joy!" I uncovered my face, took a banana from the race volunteer and yelled, "I just qualified for Boston!" I came to the end of the finish corral and my parents and running partner were waiting. I screamed, "I DID IT!"

My final official chip time was 3:45:14.

My Boston qualifying time had to be 3:45:59 or better.

45 seconds. That was how close it was. 45 seconds.

Miles 14-26.2: 8:21, 9:49 (bathroom stop), 8:36, 8:33, 8:46, 8:35, 8:39, 8:31, 9:11 (long walk at water stop), 8:55, 8:42, 8:59, 8:19, and the final 0.2 at a 7:49 pace. Second half: 1:55:11 (8:47/mile pace).

Behold, a Boston Marathon qualifier. I could barely stand up.

FK swapping my shoes for me while I excitedly text a whole bunch of people. I'm so lazy (tired?) I can't even tie my own shoes.

We slowly made our way back to the car, where my dad went inside the parking garage to retrieve it so I would not have to navigate the stairs. In the middle of the street opposite the garage was the 26 mile marker which I had passed not even an hour earlier.

I came, I saw, I conquered this mile.

Then we went down to the Flats for lunch at the Flat Iron Cafe. I wanted a beer and a greasy hamburger, dammit! I got both.

With my long-awaited pint of Smithwick's. It was delicious.

My dad and I back at the parental homestead after the race.

It has now been nine days since the race. I am still recovering physically and getting used to the idea that I am going to be running the Boston Marathon next spring. Me, who three years ago couldn't even run half a mile and weighed 65 pounds more than I do now. Me, who had never run farther than 8 miles at once before I began training for my first half marathon. Me, who could barely maintain a 9:15 pace for a 5K a mere two years ago.

I will be toeing the line in Hopkinton in April 2010.

Final race stats: 3:45:14; 8:35/mile avg; 154 avg HR; 170 max HR; 19/127 AG; 106/854 women.

1: At least that's what it felt like at the time.

After the Marathon

I'll have a proper Cleveland Marathon race report eventually, but in the meantime, this video will tell you all you need to know. Additionally, thank you all SO MUCH for the kind words of congratulations. I am still having a hard time believing I did it...

Cleveland Marathon: Boston Bound, Baby!

3:45:14.

I QUALIFIED FOR THE BOSTON MARATHON!

My god, I did it. I did it, people. I DID IT!

Full gory details soon. Must recuperate first.

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Cloudy With a Chance of Whoop-ass!

That's my official forecast for Sunday.

Actual forecast may vary.

I just picked up my race bib and various other goodies including, yes, three more Bondi Bands for 'fro control.

T-minus 18 hours to race time.

Let's rock and run.

*thanks to TC for post title inspiration.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Know the Enemy

I took a little trip to over the weekend to visit family and go on a reconnaissance mission on the Cleveland Marathon course. I am glad that I did. I have seen the enemy...and it is...Cleveland.

I got a ground-level view of what I am in for on Sunday morning. Some sections of the course promise to be lovely. Others...not so much. Um...whose idea was it for three miles on North Marginal Road with a lovely view of I-90? Really?

The intersection of East 9th and Lakeside in downtown Cleveland, looking west. The finish line is just beyond the Free Stamp (visible at right of picture).

Sunday morning between 10:40 and 10:45 am (barring disaster) I will be pounding pavement as hard as I can down this very stretch of road to complete my second marathon and hopefully, HOPEFULLY, qualify for the Boston Marathon.

I began training for this race exactly four months ago. It's time to put up or shut up. It's on, bitches.

My Cat is Famous

People!

When this came up in my Google Reader ("Animals" category) about 10 minutes ago I did the biggest double take in recent memory, since this is my cat in a picture I took and submitted months ago. I had completely forgotten about it.

Bouhaki goes Undercover!

Pin Up Girl

You know you're a runner when you have a pile of race bib safety pins on your desk at work.

You also know you're a runner when you have race bib pins everywhere.

12 days to Cleveland. Taper tantrums in full swing. Stay back.

Berkshire Proud Dad's 5K: Assaulting the Taper

I said I wasn't going to do it. I swore it would be the last time. I thought, "No more until my marathon is over!"

Yeah. Well...I totally committed a felony on my taper today. This went past simple disrespect and straight into assault territory.

I ran another 5K race today. Once again, this was a race I had no intention of running; in fact, I was unaware of its existence before about 8:00 yesterday evening. To say this was a spur of the moment decision would be an understatement. Nevertheless, I found myself in a small crowd of people at 7:30 am this morning outside an elementary school in Beverly Hills (Michigan), ready to run in the most perfect running weather imaginable (about 45 degrees, sunny, and windless).

Since I ran a hard 5K race on Wednesday, I wanted to take it easy today. I was supposed to do 4 miles at marathon pace (8:30/mile), so I thought I would try to hold myself to that in a race scenario. Just relax, no pressure, run smart, don't overdo it.

The race started, and I trundled off at what I thought was an easy pace. My breathing was deep and slow, and I felt extremely loose and limber. I was in the groove. Zen-like. I was working the running mojo.

Mile 1: 7:34.

Um...

So much for taking it easy. I finished in 23:07. The whole time I felt ridiculously serene. I was just out for a spin around the neighborhood, enjoying the cool morning air. Oh yeah, and I was also running at a pace that a little more than a year ago would have been my all-out can't-run-any-faster I'm-dying-here PR-setting pace. No, wait, scratch that: I was running smooth and easy at a pace faster than that with which I set a 5K PR in March 2008.

Today, running at a speed which felt natural, effortless, and easy, I turned in my fourth-fastest 5K time ever. In the small field, it was good enough to snag me another first-place age group award. Two races in three days, two first-in-age-group placings.

Collecting my 1st-place age-group ribbon with race organizers Jeff Sullivan and Bill Reader (husband of local rockstar runner Marybeth Reader, who won the women's race today in 19:14).

Once I returned home, I decided to reorganize my "Wall of Fame." I wanted to have all of my race bibs and assorted paraphernalia in one place. They have been in a messy pile for the past 2 years. I arranged them in chronological order, with my bib from the Vision Builders 5K (May 2007) at the start. I ran that race in 28:44. Consider that for a moment: 28:44. In two years I have chopped six and a half minutes off my 5K time. I have gone from pushing myself as hard as I could to run a 5K at a 9:15 pace and feeling like I was going to throw up and collapse to moseying through a 5K at a 7:25 pace and feeling sprightly and fresh the whole time.

People, never underestimate the value of consistent training and what it can do for you. I am living proof. Never, I tell you, never in a million years would I have thought I could run a 7:30 pace and think it was "easy." Never.

28 races and counting...

The empty space under my race bib from today (far bottom right) is reserved for my bib from the Cleveland Marathon.

Two more weeks.

Final stats: 23:07; 7:25/mile avg; 1/8 AG; 3rd woman; 17th overall

I changed my blog banner picture; if y'all are used to reading this in Google Reader you should spare a moment and swing by my actual blog to check it out. :)

Fit 5K: Disrespecting the Taper

I had no intention of running a race yesterday. None. Then one of my Thursday evening group run buddies started twisting my arm late Tuesday to run the race the next day, come on, it's just a 5K, I'll get you in for free, it will be fun, come onnnnn...

Thus, yesterday morning, I was thinking ahead when I packed a bag of running clothes to bring to work with me. The race was being held in the evening, which was unusual. I decided, oh, why not? and told my friend that I would do the race. I said I wanted to run close to 22:00; would he run with me? Push me a little? Of course; that's what running buddies are for.

After work I drove to Kensington Metropark to do four miles, which would double as a warm-up and an attempt to get in my scheduled 8 miles for the day. My "easy" warm-up started out with an 8:34 first mile. Whoops. I dialed it back after that but still finished with an 8:45/mile average. Then it was on to the race venue a short distance away.

I wore the shirt which I intend to wear for the Cleveland Marathon. I needed to identify any potential problems such as underarm chafage. I am happy to report I suffered no ill effects, so the top half of my race day outfit, at least, is settled. I will march through enemy territory with pride.

This was a small race, and my running buddy and I positioned ourselves close to the front of the crowd to ensure a good start. And then we were off. The course was a long out-and-back, and the first mile was a gentle downhill. When Garmy beeped at the one-mile mark, I peeked at him and saw to my surprise I had just run a 6:43 mile.

My fastest single mile ever. Even faster than my race-winning performance in the Run for the Rolls last summer.

Hmm. Well. OK. Change of plans. Now I wanted to break my 5K PR, both my "real one" and "the one with the asterisk." To do so I would have to run faster than 22:30. Could I do it?

Mile 2 passed in 7:13. I did a quick calculation and knew that with just under 14:00 for two miles, if I ran a solid sub-8:00 third mile and blazed to the finish, breaking my PR was a distinct possibility. I concentrated on putting forth a strong effort for the remainder of the race, though I was getting tired. The final quarter-mile was a gentle uphill, and I pushed as hard as I could. I saw the finish line clock just turning over to 22:00 as I approached and I thought, "Holy shit! I'm going to do it! Go, girl, go!" Garmy said "22:14" when I stopped him at the finish. I had done it: a new 5K PR by at least 16 seconds! When the results were posted a short time later, my official time was 22:13. Along with my shiny new PR I also placed first in my age group.

Not bad for a race I almost didn't run.

Afterward I joined another running buddy for dinner and gorged on chicken-broccoli pasta, two big glasses of Bell's Oberon, and a giant pile of ice cream. I earned it.

The aforementioned giant pile of ice cream.

Oh, about the title of this post. I have a runner friend (he's awesome; he just ran Boston) who is always telling me to respect the taper. We all know how difficult tapering can be. The reduced exercise leads to irritation, twitchiness, general malaise, etc. We find ourselves aching to get out and run, a few extra miles won't hurt, it won't matter...but it does. Practicing an improper taper can be damaging. Since I am, technically, in my taper period for Cleveland, I should maybe have thought twice about running a hard 5K two and a half weeks before my marathon. When I told him this morning about my successful race, he congratulated me and then, as always, added, "Respect the taper!" I said, "I am respecting the taper...with occasional lapses where I slap it around a little."

Hence, I totally disrespected the taper last night.

And it felt great.

Final stats: 22:13; 7:08/mile average; 1/18 age group; 9th woman; 40/272 overall.

Thanks to LO for convincing me to run the race, getting me into the race, and letting me chase him down; also to FK for bringing my attention to the existence of the giant pile of ice cream; AT for being the inspiration for the post title; and JF for the "who says marathon training can't equal 5K speed?" comment. You guys rock.

Out with a Whimper

This was the best part of Sunday's long run: my first-ever sighting of a yellow warbler!

Well. This was certainly not the way I had envisioned cresting the hill of my marathon training: 32 miles planned over two days, 21.5 delivered.

Bah humbug!

So what the hell happened? Saturday morning it started well enough. I took off for my 10-mile pace run with a spring in my step and super fab new shorts on my hips. I did mile 1 in 8:14, tried to back off for mile 2 (8:24) but by mile 3 I had crept back to 8:14. This pace is considerably faster than the pace I hope to maintain for the marathon, but it felt nearly effortless and I decided to just go with it. I was ascending a small hill when I felt it: a sharp pulling and then snapping sensation in the middle of my left hamstring. Immediately I stopped, crying out, "ow, ow, ow," and reached around to the back of my leg. I had gone exactly 3.7 miles. I stretched, walked, stretched some more, and then decided I would at least run to reach four miles. Grumbling, I ran the quarter-mile, sharp pain shooting through my leg with each stride. Clearly ten miles wasn't going to happen. At this stage of the game I knew that I should not ignore and run through pain like I usually do. The race is three weeks away. There is no room for error, or, in my case, boneheaded stubbornness. Thus, as soon as I hit four miles, I stopped Garmy and turned around for a long walk home. It took well over an hour. At least the weather was nice. I talked to myself while I was out there (it's OK; I was in the country and no one heard me). Things like "Why did this have to happen now?" "What the fuck is going on?" "God dammit!" and my go-to all-purpose phrase of exasperation, "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

The "pause" mark between miles 3 and 4 is where disaster struck.

After babying my leg for the rest of Saturday and the procurement of a great therapeutic massage, I was ready! ready! to hit the Lakelands Trail in Hamburg Sunday morning for my last long run. My über-striver distance goal was 22 miles, but I would be content with 20. After the previous day's FAIL I wanted to rock the run and go out with a bang.

I was doomed from the start, though I didn't know it. I started shortly before 9:00. I should have been on the trail at 7:00. The air was still agreeably cool at 9:00 (about 60 degrees) and the sun was obscured behind clouds. I motored along at a nice easy 8:44-8:59 pace, listened to my iPod, and kept a few neurons trained on my left hamstring (some twinges, but not enough to make me frown). I saw the yellow warbler around mile 3 of the run and was very excited. The miles wore on; I ate a Gu at mile 7, and was optimistic about achieving my goal of 22 miles.

And then. At 9.88 miles, I came to Lake Erie across the trail. At least that's what it looked like: a huge sprawling endless puddle with no opportunity to bypass it. I stopped and contemplated it. My insides shifted. Oh no, not now...I took a couple of experimental steps into the water. Instant shoe soakage. Abort! Abort! Reverse direction NOW! Guts lurch again. Spasms. Look around in desperation. No one on trail as far as I could see. Squish, squish, squish over to a grassy spot by the side of the trail. Humiliation. Why? Ugh. I need to start carrying a little Ziploc bag with some TP in it. Still no one on trail. Stand up, adjust clothes, sigh. Look longingly at dry trail beyond the water hazard. Accept defeat 1.62 miles from planned turnaround point at 11.5 miles. Turn around to face east. What's this, now? Sun? Oh noes...

Yes, the sun had burned away the cloud cover and was now beating down mercilessly. I soldiered on, hugging whichever part of the trail offered the most shade, though shade was in short supply considering the leafless state of the trees (spring hasn't quite made its full appearance up here). The temperature was rising, rising, rising (the thermometer in my car said 82 when I was done). I sucked on my CamelBak, ate another Gu. I sweated. My shorts bunched up and I started to feel the sharp bite of chafage. I reached 12 miles and thought, "There is no way I can do another 10 miles." Instant downgrade to 20-mile goal. I reached 14 miles and thought, "If I make it to 20 I will be lucky." I reached 16 and thought, "No fucking way am I even going to do 20. Once I get back to the road to the parking lot I am so done." And so it was: a little more than a mile further I swung away from the main trail and headed back to the parking lot, hitting Garmy's stop button as soon as I reached 17.5 miles. I was exhausted. My inner thigh burned from being rubbed raw. I felt like I had rolled in salt. What was left of the Ultima in my CamelBak was lukewarm. My shoulders were pink. I was pissed. I felt like I had completely failed once again. I couldn't even push myself another 2.5 miles? Across the road, another 1.25 miles down and back? What kind of fucking WEAK-ASS LOSER RUNNER AM I? I seethed at myself, muttering, "The marathon is nine miles farther, do you think you can handle it? DO YOU? Because right now I don't think so! What if it's this warm in three weeks? You can't flame out at 17.5 miles. You WILL finish the marathon."

Grumble, grumble, grumble. GRUMBLE.

Ironically, when I felt the worst and was the most displeased I was running my fastest splits of the day. Beginning with mile 11, my splits went thusly: 8:39, 8:39, 8:38, 8:53, 8:33, 8:34, 8:40, and 0.5 miles at 8:34. I wasn't even looking at Garmy because I didn't want to know how much longer the hot sweaty torture was going to continue. I just ran. Maybe I wanted it to be over with sooner. (Final stats: 17.5 miles/2:33:43/8:47 average.)

Afterward I drove to the Running Fit Trail Marathon & Half Marathon, which was taking place in the Pinckney Rec Area. I was expecting to see some of my running peeps. While I was there I took the opportunity to wade into Silver Lake's frigid waters for an impromptu "ice bath." It felt amazing. I snagged a blueberry muffin and headed home to clean up before my Michigan Lady Food Bloggers gathering (I made pork liver paté; the theme was French cooking).

And so it ended, this, my last big week of training. Except it really wasn't. I didn't run at all last Wednesday, so there went 10 miles. I managed 5 on Tuesday and 6 on Thursday. 4 on Saturday, 17.5 on Sunday, a total of 32.5 for a week I should have hit 52. This week, with 5-8-5-4-12 on the schedule, I will be running more than last week, and I'm entering my taper...

Shut up, quit whining, I'm doing great, right? Hang in there for two and a half more weeks, it's taper time, enjoy it, I've come so far, I'm going to kick ass in Cleveland, BQ in the bag, babies, it was just one lousy run, the whole program didn't fall apart, I did two 20-mile runs, the third was just the icing on the cake, STOP BITCHING. STOP!

Hey, did y'all know I'm running a marathon in less than three weeks? Well, let me TELL YOU ABOUT IT...IN EXCRUCIATING DETAIL! EVEN WHEN THE EXISTING CONVERSATION HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH RUNNING! Don't worry, I'll find an opening somewhere!

So, yeah, I'm running the Cleveland Marathon on May 17...

Hot Hot Hot

Oh spring, where art thou? When I got up this morning it was 40 degrees. By 11:00 it was already above 70, and when I left work at 4:30 it was well over 80 and uncomfortably humid. It's like we went straight from winter to summer in under six hours. This happens every year, but I'm never ready for it. I certainly have not adjusted to run in this weather, so I will have to get up early tomorrow (which is projected to be warmer than today) and get my 10 miles in before it gets too hot. Tomorrow I want to do those 10 miles at my marathon race pace (8:30-8:35) so I do not need any obstacles such as unpleasantly warm temperatures.

This weather is perfect, however, for kicking back with a beer (or two) which is what I'm currently doing on the patio seating area of my favorite restaurant in Ann Arbor. I've had a Bell's Oberon and I'm now working on a Stoudt's Pale Ale. I'm off to my last classical music concert of the season after this, and I decided to treat myself to some al fresco dining. It's the first day where I didn't feel like I needed to have a jacket on hand when outside. Of course, I also don't want to look like a weird loser who's eating dinner on a Friday evening by herself, so that's what liveblogging via iPhone is for: so I look like a weird, albeit hip with the latest technology, loser who's dining alone.

This weekend marks the apogee of my training for Cleveland. With 10 miles tomorrow and 22 on Sunday I will close the door on the bulk of my training and begin my slow steady glide toward M-Day, a mere 3 weeks and 2 days hence.

I can't believe it's almost here. Sitting where I am at the moment (outside, in sandals, skirt, and short-sleeved shirt), I've almost lost sight of the fact that I started training the second week in January. All those weeks of pitch black predawn runs, snow and ice encrusted sidewalks and streets, frozen fingers, ears, and nose, the stillness of the mornings, shuffling through freshly fallen snow, feeling like I was the only one left on earth...did I really experience that? Yes. Over three months ago I started on this, my marathon journey, and now the end is almost here.

But first, dessert!

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

One Month and Counting

M-Day approacheth: one more month until the Cleveland Marathon!

I feel good. This was a fantastic week of running, probably my best ever. I had three quality runs, fast runs, and I can't wait to get out for my 6- and 12-mile runs this weekend. The sudden improvement in the weather is undoubtedly helping, and I was able to wear both shorts and a tank top for the first time since last October. Divesting myself of irritating full-coverage winter gear has dramatically improved my mood.

I was tagged by Emma with an "Honest Scrap"award which goes something like this:

The Award and Rules:

This award is bestowed upon a fellow blogger whose blog content or design is, in the giver’s opinion, brilliant.

The rules are as follows:

1. When accepting this auspicious award, you must write a post bragging about it, including the name of the misguided soul who thinks you deserve such acclaim, and link back to the said person so everyone knows she/he is real.

2. Choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design. Or improvise by including bloggers who have no idea who you are because you don’t have seven friends. Show the seven random victims’ names and links and leave a harassing comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog. Well, there’s no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.

3. List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself. Then pass it on!

In the immortal words of Sally Field, "You like me! You really, really like me!" *blushes* I'm flattered that you think my content is brilliant, all of my posts about pooping in the woods notwithstanding.

I don't like tagging other people, but I like self-absorption (I have a blog, for cryin' out loud) so I'll list ten things about myself and anyone who reads this can choose for themselves whether or not they wish to participate.

1. For a very long time I believed that rivers could only flow south because they had to follow the curve of the earth. I will not say for how long I believed this. Suffice to say it's extremely ironic that I became a geologist¹.

2. I have received nine speeding tickets. I never cried or whined or protested (or flashed any cleavage) when I got pulled over. I had no excuses. I always knew exactly how fast I was going. I like driving fast. To my credit, my last ticket was over three years ago. Once I got my Jetta I started driving like a granny.

3. I once worked at Victoria's Secret. It was the most mind-numbing, tedious job I've ever had. I lasted three weeks before I bolted for an office job.

4. I used to set ants on fire with an enormous magnifying glass². My brother and I would put slugs and snails on top of the gas grill when it was on and watch them die shriveled, horrible deaths. It's a wonder I'm not a serial killer.

5. I almost quit cross-country my freshman year of high school because my legs were so sore after the first week of practice I could barely walk. I didn't; I stuck it out. And good thing, too, or I probably wouldn't be the runner I am today.

6. I thought when the Ramones sang "I wanna be sedated," they were really saying "I wanna piece of this."

7. My two least favorite songs in the entire pantheon of songs are "Brown-Eyed Girl" and "American Pie." I will break the fucking radio trying to change the station if I hear even one nanosecond of either of those. Luckily I have both SiriusXM and an iPod adapter in my car so my chances of inadvertent exposure are greatly diminished. I also cannot abide the entire AC/DC catalog. Hearing what's-his-name's earsplitting screechy voice makes me want to slam some Renée Fleming into the CD player and rock out with a Mozart aria or two.

8. Riffing off one of Emma's items, when I was very little, like 4 or 5 years old, I apparently saved my younger brother from drowning in a swimming pool. I have no memory of doing this. As far as I'm concerned, my brother owes me.

9. I collect antique geologic maps.

10. I am terrified of raccoons. I have dubbed this procyonophobia, from the Latin name for the common American raccoon, Procyon lotor.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

1: OK, fine, I was a freshman in college and this notion was only disabused during my introductory geology class.

2: One can achieve similar effects with a geologist's hand lens.

Priorities, People!

You know you're a runner when someone (runner or not) asks you what you're doing this weekend and the first thing you say is "Well, on Saturday, I have to run 6 miles, and on Sunday I have to run 12..."