Oh Everest, My Everest

I joined PGRC yesterday since it was only $3 more to become a member than it was to run today's race as a non-member. I think it was well worth it since there is at least one weekly run that starts practically outside my doorstep and the people in the club were all nice runners who were there for fun and camaraderie instead of ignoring everybody and trying to PR every other second.

It was a chilly morning, but most of that was the dew since I was getting on the road at 0615. When Coach and I got to the gym where we picked up our bibs, the sun was out and I predicted a lot of sweating in my two long-sleeve layers. I ditched the under armour before the start, but then ended up mildly uncomfortable because of the cold for the next two hours. Oh well. I'm still trying to figure out if that had anything to do with my left forearm going numb and then hurting for the last mile and half. My watch wasn't on any tighter than usual, but when I reached for my numb arm, it felt tight around my flesh - at least to the touch of my good hand. I loosened the watch a notch to see if it would help, but that did nothing. It started to really hurt as I came down the last quarter mile, but luckily it was only a quarter mile. Seems okay now.

The club picked up two stragglers to join the team so that we could compete (we needed 15 runners), but then I found out there was another rule I had failed to learn about beforehand. A runner had to finish the 10 miles in 2 hours or less in order to be scored. With me and about 2-3 of the other club regulars living dangerously on the cusp, I felt like I'd better try really hard. I imagined myself taking a nice easy pace most of the way and then seeing the race clock about 20 yards ahead at 1:59:57, knowing that I would miss the mark by mere seconds. Luckily, that thought kept me from walking too long during my increasingly frequent Gatorade breaks in the last two miles.

12 minutes per mile doesn't sound fast to most people, and in fact, it doesn't even sound fast to me these days with all the focus I'm putting on being able to switch modes as a runner so that I can score well on the PFT in addition to running marathons. Still, it was a great victory to be scored in that race, and with 4 minutes to spare! A sub-12 pace for 10 miles is a light year away from where I was throughout MCM training and about 67 light years from my actual marathon pace. I sometimes forget that I only started running last April (and that it was a false start with a sprained ankle after only a little over a week). Coach says that it takes about two years to mature a runner, so I'm counting on a lot of improvement this next year or so.

Next week is the real challenge. Well, it's the next one anyway. Every day I pound the pavement is a new challenge for me right now. As Samwise likes to say, this next marathon is to prove that the first one wasn't a fluke. (The next 50-60 will be to join the 50 states and 7 continents clubs.) Coach listened to me go on about all the people I'd get to visit whose couches I would shamelessly crash on in order to achieve these goals, and it reminded him of another marathon follow-up tidbit he wanted to share with MCP. Seems that most people run a marathon and then fall into one of two groups: the Never Agains and the Extremely Addicted. He warned against trying to run too many in the first year (or two) because that often leads to injuries, which lead to membership in the Never Agains. Makes sense to me.

While my current mental state definitely puts me in that dangerous group that wants to run as many as possible as soon as possible, I imagine there is an important lesson waiting for me in LA. The logical part of my brain that's still cowering in a corner trying to hide from the bullies who like it when I run all crazy-like? Well, that part managed to get a message out, convincing me to wait on registering for the Frederick Marathon until after LA. That way I will not only know what it means to run one's first 2-3 marathons too close together, but I will most likely also FEEL it. In my bones. In my joints. In my muscles. Everywhere. Early May isn't so far off and I admit that this might not be the best idea I've ever had. Still...

We'll see.

Labels: caffeine, race, shot blocks, swollen hands, taper, yellow gatorade