Oh Everest, My Everest

Clock Time: 5:43:08
Chip Time: 5:37:41
Average Pace: 12:53

I am effing exhausted and the mile 14 Tourette's is still in full force, but I did a pretty good job today (not the best, but decent) so here are the splits:

5K - 00:40:50, 13:08 pace, predicted finish: 5:44:20
10K - 1:16:21, 12:17 pace, predicted finish: 5:22:03
15K - 1:51:01, 11:54 pace, predicted finish: 5:12:00
20K - 2:39:46, 12:51 pace, predicted finish: 5:36:54
1/2 - 2:48:32, 12:51 pace, predicted finish: 5:36:54
25K - 3:17:41, 12:43 pace, predicted finish: 5:33:25
30K - 3:59:46, 13:08 pace, predicted finish: 5:44:20
40K - 5:25:13, 13:05 pace, predicted finish: 5:43:01

This is the race I should have run last year. I was hoping I could skip it and go right on to a big improvement. The first three splits had me coming in easily at 5:15, but then I really needed to use the portajohn right before mile 10 and I couldn't just keep running until I got to one without a line (that didn't happen until mile 20). So I waited TWELVE WHOLE MINUTES to use one, though I was at least clever enough to do it at the orange station so I could enjoy my little frozen slice of orange while waiting in line. Between the actual time wasted there and the rough start I had after standing still for 12 minutes, I could have easily made my realistic goal of 5:30. In fact, the 5:30 pace group caught up to me around mile 22 when I started to feel really bad, and I tried to stay motivated and keep pace with them for a while. That lasted all of a mile. Mile 23 rolled around and I realized that while they were doing run-walk like I had resorted to by that point, they were not doing 4/1s like me. They were doing something longer like 5/1 or 6/1, which might as well have been 60/1 or 300/1 considering the shape I was in. It couldn't have been too far off of my own system, but it was just enough to really, really hurt.

My joints seem okay, but my muscles are KILLING me. My calves and IT bands are the worst. I've never had to stop and stretch so much and even sitting still is agonizing with my IT bands wigging out on me. It's most certainly time for some vitamin I. I can't believe I thought I was going to do a speed workout this week. Like, did I smoke some crack when I planned on that and just not remember that I did? Seriously. A marathon is no joke. I take back what I said about 20-milers. Those babies are totally doable. Marathons are the ones that are like plane wrecks. Plain and simple, yo. The human body does NOT want to run that far. Ever. And when we make them do that anyway, they ruthlessly make us pay.

Two-word summary race report: OUCH! BOO-ya.

Labels: blue powerade, caffeine, great weather, GU, MCM, P.R., sport beans

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

WHAT THE HELL.

I hardly want to relive yesterday's run, but I need to get down some sort of record of my first 20-miler in life... if you can even count those last 6 miles.

Let's just say that I went to dark, dark places in my head. The Mile-14 onset Tourette's was mild, but my cognitive processes began to break down badly at that point. I played every game I knew to make the time pass and push through the pain: lasso the person running in front of me, lasso that kayaker on the river, look at that lady in front of me I am so faster than she is 1-2-3 go, wheels on the feet go 'round and 'round, just stay with Space Mountain Train the trusty pacer, count as high as I can in various languages, name the stops on the NYC subway lines I've lived on, name the stops on the DC metro, SCREW THE ALPHABET I WILL NOT SING THE ALPHABET, count again in japanese and pretend I'm doing push-ups oh look how easy this is without the push-ups, remember that day when I was running miserably for what seemed like forever thank god I am on a leisurely bike ride now just watching the memory of me suffer, if you don't stay ahead of at least one person in this group the lions will eat you... and so on.

I had to think of some new ones, too. The best one was magic shoes! Magic shoes come in two varieties: the kind with little wings on them that whisk you around like a little mythological courier and the kind that run by themselves and carry you forward as if you were amazingly fast and perfect and had to expend no effort whatsoever. The thing about magic shoes, though, is that they are only for gods and immortals to wear and the price to pay for greatness as a mortal is that they burn your puny mortal skin. But to be great you just live with the burning pain in your feet because you get to wear magic shoes and be awesome like gods and immortals.

Magic shoes only worked for so long. They got me through the rough spots up until mile 14. Then I had to play, OH GOD THIS HURTS SO MUCH WHAT COULD HURT WORSE THAN THIS SO I CAN BE THANKFUL I AM NOT DOING THAT INSTEAD? Answers included:

*Here is a wall made of spikes and now you have to kick it!

*Here take this knife and carve chunks of flesh out of your legs to put in this bowl.

*Hey let's play soccer and you get a penalty kick OH MY GOD JUST KIDDING IT WAS A GIANT UPRIGHT BLADE NOT A BALL and the lower half of your leg is now sliced in half!

*What do you think will happen if I put my foot in this blender?

Phew! Thank goodness I'm not doing any of that and I'm just here running these nice and easy 20 miles today. What a leisurely day!

That never lasted long either. I ended up in fantasy land a lot...

Oh my gosh I have to keep running or that ringwraith will cut me up and feed me to those nasty orcs. But when I almost dove into a ditch a few times to evade the dark lords, I decided I'd better try daydreaming about real life instead. I pictured myself approaching the end of mile 26 on marathon day and seeing mister-man standing at an oddly placed aid station there. I run over to kiss him and he says, "I'm coming with you!" and I grin and pick him up and go charging up that final hill to the statue where my friends are all waiting and take a glorious picture of me carrying my boyfriend and looking strong as a horse. Hey, man, that's totally unrealistic. Stop it. Okay, okay. So I get to mile 26 and there is that final hill to cover and there are all of my friends watching me and I can't feel my legs. I suck it up and I go charging up that hill and push some suckers out of my way for a glorious finish. Maybe that can actually happen. (Well, maybe I shouldn't push any suckers.)

Anyway, now that it's all over and I review my data, I see that there is a good possibility I will be capable of this. It felt like I completely broke down during the whole last five miles, but I actually stayed well within my target pace range on the last two miles, even with the stops to stretch and some walking. See, usually it's such a big hurdle to even get myself to run again that I run as fast as I can just to get more distance covered and "earn" some more walking (or limping or crying), which I do for as long as I can stand myself. Then when I am thoroughly disgusted with myself again, I run fast some more. Every time this happens, it FEELS like I'm actually going to make good time when I average out the walking and running, but I always still come in at at least 2-3 minutes slower than my normal pace.

Maybe I can thank my week of Army ROTC PT, but somehow I actually ran fast for long enough to bring my average pace back down to normal. I'd look at my watch in the middle of it and see I was doing somewhere between a 9- and 11-minute pace, which was remarkable for how crappy I felt. Then I'd remind myself about every other time I use this technique and how I always end up taking too long anyway. I really didn't expect to see any good news in the data, but darn it if I didn't run miles 19 and 20 in 13:20 and 12:08, respectively!

I didn't exactly achieve a negative split, but I ran my 19th mile faster than I ran 11 of the other 19 miles, and my 20th was the fastest mile of them all! I do recognize that this is some kind of victory, but I'm still in too much shock (and pain) to actually feel happy about it.



...Also I had my first chafing experience (WTF) and now I have to buy body glide (WTF). I don't want to talk about it. >:(

Labels: Army ROTC, caffeine, chafing, long run, magic shoes, mind games, nsaids, PT, shot blocks

No moping today! I just ran 18 miles and I feel like having a good ol' victory bar fight as soon as I finish icing my knees. (Too bad I know better than that.) That was a damn good run. I'm feeling violent in the good way!

I used a number of mental tricks on myself today, but the most effective during the clinch was ramping up the speed in the last mile and thinking about how embarrassing it would be to give up so close to the end in front of so many Marines. I thought of mister-man running the 5+ mile endurance course this last week with his load-bearing vest and a pack and rifle. The Marine Corps, being the Marine Corps, planned for the E course to end with an obstacle you have to hurl yourself over... atop the final hill...

...where everyone is watching you.

Gee, this sounds a lot like the marathon course, whose elevation map (just recently released) looked pretty brutal, involving running PAST the finish only to come back around to it a second time... managing to be uphill both ways. 10 miles of hills, relatively flat course, and then 1.2 miles of utter torture. Not to mention that this is in front of probably the largest concentration of spectators. You know, the Marine Corps being the Marine Corps. Sometimes I stare at that elevation map just to meditate on it bit. Without fail, I end my meditation by saying to myself, "Yep, this route was definitely planned by a Marine."

Anyway, I tried to sing the Marines' Hymn in my head as I started running hard. I mixed up the verses a whole bunch and ended up running out of song before the mile was up, but then I imagined mister-man running up from behind all weighed down like a mule and completely schooling me in that last half mile. I almost started crying because my mental image was too real and I was *so* close to giving up on my dreams and even life itself. But before I knew it, my Garmin bleeped at me and made the 18 miles official. Of course it was almost another quarter mile to the parking lot so I kept going and even sped up a bit because I felt SO DAMN GOOD to be done.

I remember turning my left ankle on a rock somewhere in the last half mile but I didn't notice until I was stretching and my left ankle was too tender for me to balance on that leg so I could stretch my right quads. Already feels mostly better, though I'll have to ice it a bit and not do anything stupid to it. I'm just glad it wasn't like The Great Sprain of April, which took me out of commission for a loooong while. That would be pretty devastating at this stage of the game.

Wait, why am I even talking about that shit? I effectively dodged the bullet, and I just ran 18 miles! Fuck everything else! Time for ice packs and a victory nap.

Labels: ankle, caffeine, canal towpath, long run, shot blocks, violent urges