It's a dry heat, part one

How about you and I hop in the not-so-way back machine for a little rambling and ranting?

Let me tell you about my trip to Arizona for mom's wedding.

But first, a little background.

My mother announced her engagement to Bachelor #3 shortly after I ran the Philadelphia Marathon last November.  She and her new beau started dating sometime in September.  While that may seem like a very short courtship, bear in mind that she is 67 years old.  Not exactly one foot in, mind you, but the timetable gets a little different when you're a senior citizen.  In fact, when she told me about her engagement, she assured me that "they weren't going to rush into anything" and the wedding "wouldn't be for at least a year".  Not only were my brother and I invited to the festivities, we had PARTS.  I was the matron of honor and he was giving her away.

Whatever makes you happy, Mom.

Turns out, I inherited my not so MIT like math skills from my mother.  They set a wedding date of 8/14/10.  Last time I checked, that was only nine months.  If I didn't know better, I would think she was "a woman in trouble".  Of course, I did know better.  But, who am I to quibble?

Whatever makes you happy, Mom.

Bro and I had mixed feelings about going to Arizona.  Mind you, it wasn't that we approved or disapproved of her decision to marry again.  First of all, this was her third wedding, so we didn't quite understand the need for all the "pomp and circumstance".  Secondly, she didn't exactly live down the street.  Airline tickets were running $350-400 per person/round trip.  Finally, and perhaps the most important reason of all, WHO WANTS TO GO TO ARIZONA IN AUGUST???  Seriously.  I mean, I know she lives there year round, but that's her choice.  However, she carried us in her womb for nine months and sacrificed many times over for our health and well-being through the years.  Is taking a trip across the country too much to ask?

Whatever makes you happy, Mom.

After procrastinating for a respectable period of time, we decided to book our trip.  We would be departing Manchester Airport on Friday, 8/13 at 4:03 p.m. and leaving Arizona on Sunday, 8/15 at 2:06 p.m.  Our significant others weren't going to be accompanying us to the blessed event, so it would just be the two of us.  I happen to really like my brother as well as love him, so the opportunity to spend time together sort of took the sting out of our crazy weekend of travel.

The morning of the 13th, I squeezed in an 18 mile run, thinking it'd be next to impossible to take the time to run while I was there.  We figured out that we'd only PHYSICALLY be in the state of Arizona 39 hours, and that included two sleeps plus the wedding.  It was going to be one of THOSE weekends.

After my run, I got myself together, met my brother, and headed to the airport.  We flew to Newark on schedule and scoped out a place to have dinner.  We found this place called Ruby's Diner and had cheeseburgers, fries and chocolate shakes (don't you judge us).  It's very challenging to stay on a good meal schedule when you are traveling, particularly since the airline wants no part in feeding you unless you pay them a small fortune.  So, we did our best to "load up" while the getting was good.

Finally, the time came to board the plane to Phoenix.  The plane was completely full.  I had a window seat and my brother was in the middle.  For the next 4-5 hours, I attempted to read, listen to music, and possibly sleep.  Let me just say that I don't recommend running 18 miles and then sitting on an airplane for an extended period of time.  My legs were a little perturbed.  It was practically an impossibility to get comfortable wedged between the window and my sibling.  But, hey, we were all in the same boat (plane), weren't we?  Time to put the big girl pants on and stop whining.

By the time we landed in Arizona, it was almost 11 p.m.  It also happened to be 104 degrees.  104.  At 11 p.m.  However, to my body, it was REALLY 2 a.m., which is about 5 hours past my bedtime.  After waiting for all the folks in front of us to remove their luggage from the overhead compartment, we made our way off the plane.  I checked a small suitcase, so it was off to baggage claim.  My stepsister, Jen, was coming from San Diego to attend the festivities and offered to pick us up at the airport on the way to my mother's house.  Once we got my bag, we stepped outside to wait for Jen.

Holy HAND GRENADE Batman.  It was like someone immediately jumped in front of you and shoved a hair dryer in your face.  It was bleeping hot.  Now, I know what you're thinking:  but it's Arizona.  It's the desert.  At least it's a dry heat.

Well, for the record, my oven is a dry heat too, but I'm not about to stick my head in it.  Sorry, but I'm not buying it.  104 is 104.  Period.

The good thing is, we only had to bake in it for a few minutes.  Jen pulled up, hugged us and helped us get our bags in the car.  Once we found our way out of the airport (see? Other people get lost too), we were off to Payson, AZ.

Did I happen to mention that my mother lives about 90 miles outside of Phoenix?  Well, she does.  There isn't a whole lot between Phoenix and Payson, except for cactus and coyotes.  Basically, you get on I-87 and keep going.  I put my head back and closed my eyes, hoping to doze off, but I happened to be sharing the backseat with my two young nephews who were a little too punchy for their own good.  At least if I make it LOOK like I'm sleeping, I thought, no one will try to talk to me.

This is what happens to me when I'm deprived of food and sleep.  I'm pretty miserable to be around.

We pulled in to my mother's driveway at 12:30 a.m.  I had now been awake for almost 24 hours and hadn't eaten since Newark.  Just the mere act of talking reduced me to tears.  It was just too much effort.  I was so ready to just curl up in a ball. I mumbled a barely intelligible greeting to my mother who was just a little TOO happy at this late hour, and begged to be shown to my room.  My head was pounding.  I didn't know whether I needed sleep more than food, but chose the former.  Maybe things would look a little brighter once I got some rest.

After all, tomorrow was the big day.  Oh snap, it was already tomorrow...


 

Is It Ever Gonna Be Enough?

Have you heard that song "Gold Guns Girls" by Metric?  Well, in case you haven't, I've copied a youtube link for your enjoyment.

So, why am I sharing this with you?

Well, first of all, it's a GREAT song (I've done many a 400 meter repeat to this upbeat tune).  But, second of all, it's for this one line in the song that gets repeated multiple times:

Is it ever gonna be enough?

Have you ever asked yourself that question?

I would be soon asking myself.

After qualifying for Boston at the Vermont City Marathon, I called my Coach.  As I'm sure you can imagine both he and I were very happy with the outcome.  I was about three hours removed from crossing the finish line when I heard this come out of my mouth:

"So, I figured I could sign up for the Mohawk Hudson Marathon in October and see if I can get my time down even more.  Then, I could be seeded higher at Boston and move up in the pack!"

My Coach didn't encourage or discourage this.  He gently suggested that, yes, we run a fall marathon, do Boston and then, perhaps, take the rest of 2011 off from marathoning and work on the short stuff.  He congratulated me once again on the marathon and told me to keep him posted on my recovery.

I bounced back pretty well from the marathon; in fact it was the least amount of soreness I've ever had post-race.  Perhaps it was the consistent training this time around?  Or maybe it was that I kept moving and didn't sit still for too long?  In any event, it was easy to put another 26.2'er on the calendar since I seemed primed and ready to go.

About six weeks after Vermont, I went to register online for Mohawk Hudson and, to my surprise, it was FULL!!!  An October race was already sold out in July.  What IS this world coming to???  I really wanted to run this one because I had heard it was a flat and fast course with an elevation drop of over 300 ft.  If that doesn't scream PR, well, then, I don't know what does.

(PR = Personal Record.  Educating the non-running public one blog post at a time...)

Thankfully, I had already chosen a backup race, just in case:  The Atlantic City Marathon on October 17th.  This one made sense because it was a doable distance to travel.  Plus, I was born in the great state of New Jersey.  In a way, it would be like going home again.  And, my Jersey cousins could come.

I told my Coach the news about Mohawk as well as my plan B.  We agreed to design our training for this race and had a plan in place (hey, that rhymes).  I started to train.

As my training got underway, lots of life events happened, particularly in the month of August.  First of all, I took a certified running coach course through the RRCA (Road Runners Club of America), which took up an entire weekend.  Secondly, I had to hop on a germy plane with my brother to Arizona for my mother's third wedding.  (That in and of itself deserves it's own blog post which, perhaps, I'll post at a later date.)  Then, there was the Red Sox game at Fenway.  And...and...and...

All of a sudden, I didn't feel so well.

Between life in general, my social activities/obligations and, oh yeah, training for a MARATHON, my body screamed, "oh no she didn't!".  I was grounded with walking pneumonia.

Turns out I'm a very healthy "sick" person as I never ran a fever and was still running through all this stuff.  Once we had a clear idea as to what was going on, Coach said not to run for at least three days.  My only job during this time was to rest, medicate and let my body heal.

A funny thing happened during this time.  I didn't panic.  Here I was, in the middle of a marathon training cycle, with pneumonia, not running, and it was okay somehow.  I had slowly regained my perspective.  It was then that I first asked myself that question:

Is It Ever Gonna Be Enough???

I had set my sights on qualifying for Boston well over two years ago.  This was a dream I had been chasing for quite a while.  The dream manifested into my "now" reality, which is what I'd been wanting.  I thought that if I could just get this, then I'd be happy.  Was I?  Well, yes, I was.  But, instead of "milking it", I immediately made plans to achieve another goal.  I wondered if I was really enjoying the process or whether all of this goal setting was becoming a means to an end.  When you set a goal, your life tends to move towards that.  You become focused on what it is you want to go after, and life does too.  In effect, you sort of get tunnel vision.

As I've said before, it's impossible to go through life without new desires being born within you and, of course, it's our natural inclination to expand.  But, like most things, there is a happy medium.  Somewhere between my exaltation of qualifying and lying on the couch watching reruns of the original "Hawaii Five-O" series, I realized I went off my beam a little bit.  And that's okay.  That's awareness.  

It was then that I decided that this moment was enough.  It had to be.  Maybe I'd shatter my marathon PR on October 17th.  Maybe it'll be the most fun that I've ever had running a race.  Who knows?  All I know is I don't have to do it TODAY.

One day at a time.  That's enough.

Vermont, naturally

Rise and shine, Cyndi Lou.

Time to wake up.

You have a little run to do.

I'm reminded of the Seinfeld episode entitled "The Hot Tub". Elaine is having a marathon runner named Jean-Paul stay at her apartment. He is in town to run the NYC marathon. He had stayed there once before and missed a race, so Jerry is panic stricken that it'll happen again. He takes him to a motel room, but offends the wake-up guy, so they go back to Jerry's apartment. Kramer, his neighbor across the hall, ends up having issues with his hot tub and causes a power outage which makes Jean-Paul late for his race.

I have set three alarms on my cell phone, four minutes apart and am in a room with two other pre-registered runners.

Ain't no WAY I'm missing this race. I couldn't oversleep if I TRIED.

Once we were all awake, Ted and I went down for a pre-race breakfast. The hotel had a complimentary continental breakfast, which was very convenient. We had pre-marathon friendly food that did not include eggs, bacon, sausage or "make your own belgian waffle" (although, I was SO going to try that Monday morning before we went home). Once we were all dressed, nourished and race ready, we headed out to catch our shuttle to the start.

They had been going back and forth about the weather forecast all week long. At one point, they anticipated temperatures to be in the 80's. Great for spectators. Not so much for racers. Mother Nature did her best to fake us out, but ended up with a compromise: overcast skies and a temperature of 61 degrees. It's about ten degrees warmer than optimal marathon weather, but beggars can't be choosers. We'll take it.

I have to say, lining up for the start of the marathon, I was pretty calm. I was with my friends, which probably served as a wonderful distraction from the task at hand. As we were making our way to the line, we were all talking about the goal of the race. We all had times we wanted to come in by (me, 3:45 or better), but the universal one was voiced ever so eloquently by my buddy, John:

To finish and remain continent while doing so.

Works for me.

After much preparation, the moment had finally come. All the work was over. It was time to reap the reward of weeks and weeks of training and affirming. If training for a marathon can be likened to pregnancy, then the carrying out of the 26.2 mile journey might as well be the birthing process.

Let the contractions commence.

We were off and running. Not only did Ted agree to be my pacer, but he was also my pack mule. He had all of my gu packets in his possession. The only thing I had to be responsible for carrying was my desire to qualify for Boston.

Oh yeah, and those handy cups of water they give you every mile or so.

Remember my blog post "Champions Train Alone"? That was the first time I really PRACTICED drinking out of those disposable paper cups that you get at races WHILE I continued to run. Thank you, Sheryl. Having done it in training, I knew I could do it while I ran.

I didn't have to walk and drink. Once.

Oh, don't misunderstand me, here. There were a few occasions that I thought about walking. But, it wasn't because I couldn't hydrate in motion. It was just the mind and body doing the dance.

I am running sub 3:45 marathons with ease.
I am running sub 3:45 marathons with ease.
I am running sub 3:45...marathons...with...EASE, dammit!!!

Ted was great. Of course he was faster than I was, so this run wasn't the be all/end all super duper physical challenge for him, but he knew that going in. And, because of that, he was able to stay focused on me and what I needed. Whenever I voiced my concern about the pace being too fast, he said, "you're doing just fine. Everything is okay." Even if I didn't always feel that, he knew it and could keep reminding me when I had forgotten. And, when I became a little too obsessed with checking the GPS watch, he let me know that as well.

So, there was some back and forth. I had moments of happiness. I had moments of anxiety. I had moments of confusion (try doing math at mile 20 to see how your pace per mile is and what you have to do in order to make it to the finish on time). I even had a moment of out and out PANIC on the bike path, which was actually the home stretch. Ted had been staying 10-15 feet ahead of me most of the race. And I was okay with it. Until....

Right around mile 22 or so.

At that point, I paused my iPod and yelled, "TED!!!!"

He turns and jogs back to me. I pleaded, "can you PLEASE slow down and just RUN with me????"

Instantly, he reverted to his reassuring mode, "We're doing great. We have plenty of time. We can afford to take this mile easy."

And so it went. Mile 22 led to miles 23, 24 and 25.

Only 1.2 miles to go.

Soon we would be exiting the bike path and heading towards the glorious finish line. We hit mile 26 and Ted says, "let's sprint to the finish line". At this point, I'm sure I violently objected to his annoying idea with whatever energy I had left. But, I didn't stop running.

We ran out of real estate. We crossed the finish line. As we ran through, I looked at the clock time:

3:44:10

And for the first time since 8 a.m., I slowed to a walk.

My job was over. Ted hugged me and said, "you did it! You qualified for Boston!!!" I hugged him back and was relieved. My primary emotion was relief. I wasn't ecstatically happy. I wasn't overcome with tears. I was just...relieved. And I was satisfied. I had talked about this and visualized this. I had already affirmed that I was running sub 3:45 marathons with ease. And I let it go.

After realizing that it was over and we got what we came here for, I made a beeline over to a table that had -- shudder -- cans of...SODA!!! Yes, my finicky fitness friends...SODA!!! The real stuff with the high fructose corn syrup and caramel color and phosphoric ACID....ah, bliss!!!!! I haven't been a soda drinker in a very long time, but there is something about sucking it down after having run for over 3.5 hours. All that time, the only thing to cross my lips was water, gu and gatorade. I was SO ready to taste something else.

Ted and I stayed close to the finish line waiting for our buddy, John. We had passed him on the bike path. He was having some discomfort, but he was moving and we knew he'd make it. He ended up coming in about 7 or 8 minutes after I did. When I saw him, I hugged him. He hugs me back and says, "please tell me you got this mother f**ker." I told him that yes, I had indeed "gotten that mother f**ker". He was very happy. We all were, really.

We went off in search of more soda, more water and post-run carbs. The best part about that marathon, aside from qualifying (of course), was the fact that it was in Vermont.

And you wanna know what else is in Vermont???

Ben and Jerry's.

Of course.

They were well represented at the Keybank Vermont City Marathon and we took full advantage. Eventually, I was reunited with my new friends that I had met at dinner the night before. We all shared in the joy of each other's accomplishments and recounted the most vivid moments of our experience out on the course.

And then, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, we all realized...

THERE...IS...A...Beer Tent.

Sniff, sniff. It was so...beautiful.

We stood inside enjoying the complimentary beverage that all registered runners were entitled to. As we sipped, we could still see some runners coming around to the finish...and these folks had full sun at this point. It didn't make an appearance for us in the race, but around 12:30, it had come out in full force.

And that concludes my search for the ever elusive BQ. It never really was elusive; I just had to figure that out. And I did. It took about two years, but who cares? It was coming. I just had to believe it would.

Here is the official coolrunning.com result of my marathon:

630 24/219 F3539 1:24:48 1:51:29 2:51:00 3:43:30 8:32 3:44:10 Cynthia Springford 38 F 2707 Plaistow NH

I was #630 overall, 24 out of 219 in my division (F3539), my 10 mile split was 1:24:48, 1/2 marathon split 1:51:29, 20 mile split 2:51 and my net time which, is the OFFICIAL time, was 3:43:30.

And here I was just hoping for a 3:45:58.

Expect the unexpected. Expect success always. Revel in the accomplishment. Don't chase your dreams for the sake of obtaining something. Move in the direction of your dreams because every step along the way feels good. Because desire is life force. That's what it's all about. That is why we are here.

And here, for my stat lovers, is the official Garmin Forerunner 205 data:

5/30/2010 8:03:41 AM

Total Distance
26.46 mi

Total Time
3:44:03 (didn't turn my watch off right away)

Avg Pace
8?27/mi

Avg Speed
7.1 mph

Max Speed
10.2 mph

Total Ascent
3093 ft

Total Descent
4138 ft

Lap 01 -- 8:48 (Max Speed 8.0 mph)
Lap 02 -- 7:57 (Max Speed 9.9 mph)
Lap 03 -- 8:17 (Max Speed 10.2 mph)
Lap 04 -- 8:11 (Max Speed 9.2 mph)
Lap 05 -- 8:24 (Max Speed 7.9 mph)
Lap 06 -- 8:28 (Max Speed 8.6 mph)
Lap 07 -- 8:20 (Max Speed 8.7 mph)
Lap 08 -- 8:32 (Max speed 8.0 mph)
Lap 09 -- 8:34 (Max Speed 8.1 mph)
Lap 10 -- 8:16 (Max Speed 8.8 mph)
Lap 11 -- 8:35 (Max Speed 8.3 mph)
Lap 12 -- 8:33 (Max Speed 8.4 mph)
Lap 13 -- 8:23 (Max Speed 9.4 mph)
Lap 14 -- 8:23 (Max Speed 10.1 mph)
Lap 15 -- 8:36 (Max Speed 8.9 mph)
Lap 16 -- 8:56 (Max Speed 8.6 mph)
Lap 17 -- 8:33 (Max Speed 8.3 mph)
Lap 18 -- 8:29 (Max Speed 8.1 mph)
Lap 19 -- 8:38 (Max Speed 8.0 mph)
Lap 20 -- 8:29 (Max Speed 9.2 mph)
Lap 21 -- 8:24 (Max Speed 8.4 mph)
Lap 22 -- 8:25 (Max Speed 9.2 mph)
Lap 23 -- 8:52 (Max Speed 8.0 mph)
Lap 24 -- 8:26 (Max Speed 8.3 mph)
Lap 25 -- 8:10 (Max Speed 8.6 mph)
Lap 26 -- 8:16 (Max Speed 8.4 mph)
Lap 27 -- 3:58 (Avg Pace 8:34/mi, Max Speed 8.8 mph)

And now, we celebrate. We enjoy this one for a while. We SAVOR it. And then, it's on to the next.

Naturally.

(in pre-race pic from l-r: Meghan, Bethann, John, Ted, Cyndi Lou and Christina.)

Marathon Eve

Where does the time go?

When I decided to register for the Vermont City Marathon, it was just a date on a calendar. Sure, I had a schedule and did the training runs/workouts, but it seemed so far off. It felt like the day would never get here.

And now, it's TOMORROW.

I'm a mixture of excited, anxious and impatient. Now that it's almost here, can we just get on with it? PLEASE??

I woke up on Marathon Eve, ready to do my last run before packing up and heading out to meet John and Ted. Coach gave me a 25-30 minute run to do with 5-6 10 second strides at the end of the run. I've always liked running 2-3 miles the day before a marathon. I'm not sure if the benefits are more mental or physical, but it seems to work for me. And, as they say, if it ain't broke...

After my run (which felt great), I got myself cleaned up and ready to go. I was meeting the guys in Windham, NH at 10 a.m. Ted offered to take his car for the three hour trek to Vermont, so the three of us could keep each other company.

Oh, and I almost forgot the most important part: this weekend, it was all about me.

Sing it with me: me, me, me, me, meeeeeeee...

This was my personal quest for the Holy Grail which, for me, was a BQ (Boston Qualifier for those who haven't been paying attention). And, I had two men fighting over who was going to pace me for it (okay, maybe they weren't "fighting", but they were both willing to step in and be "that guy" for me). Cyndi Lou was the princess this weekend and she was going to take FULL advantage. Even the marathon eve dinner reservations were all about me:

________________________________________
From: fircrakr
To: cyndi; ted
Subject:
Date: Wed, 26 May 2010 14:57:39 -0400

Cool! I sent a message back to Christina to add the three of us to the reservation and told her that you were the one that found the restaurant. It's all about Cyndi! :-)

________________________________________
From: cyndilou
To: fircrakr; ted
Date: Wed, 26 May 2010 14:35:01 -0400
Subject:
Works for me. I would say 6.

Cyndi

From: Fircrakr
Sent: Wednesday, May 26, 2010 2:38 PM
To: Cyndi; Ted
Subject:

Hey guys,

I think I mentioned that there are other friends of mine who are staying at the same hotel as us and are running the marathon. They would like to know if we can all do dinner together at the Italian restaurant that Cyndi found on Saturday. Is this okay?
If so, time suggestions as we would want to make a reservation.

Thanks,
John

_______________________________________

See? I told you. I even had the email thread to prove it.

My husband offered to drive me there so I didn't have to leave my car unattended for two days. We arrived first, because I accidentally told John and Ted to turn right off of the exit instead of left (not only do I have issues with FOLLOWING directions, it appears I also have a challenge GIVING them too). I said my goodbyes to Michael, camped out in the backseat and off we went.

It was such a nice day for a drive and the scenery is just beautiful. We listened to music and chatted about our plans for the weekend. Once we checked in and got settled, we planned on driving the route before meeting our running friends for dinner. They had a course map and description on the webpage, which is nice and all, but sometimes, you just have to see it for yourself.

About 2 hours into our drive, we started plotting lunch. We ended up finding a good thai restaurant in downtown Montpelier, which is one of my favorite types of cuisine (remember, it was all about me). After lunch, we walked the long way around back to the car, taking in the sights and checking out the little shops. Having the longest part of our journey behind us felt good. But, we weren't there yet.

Back in the car, we cruised up to Burlington. We ended up booking our hotel later than anticipated and lots of the hotels were already booked. John totally came through and found us the last room at a hotel 8 miles from the start of the marathon. And, the best news of all: there was actually a shuttle that would pick us up and drop us off at the start.

Score!!!

If memory serves me correctly, I believe we went to the Marathon EXPO in Burlington BEFORE going to our hotel, so we could pick up our race packets. I also wanted to get a Keybank Vermont City Marathon 26.2 sticker for my car. We also came upon free Green Mountain Coffee there, which John and I found particularly enjoyable. Ted found...peanut butter. If I never mentioned it before, I'll mention it now: Ted is addicted to peanut butter. He loves the stuff. He loves it so much that he doesn't allow himself to have it on a regular basis. He will only indulge post-race.

Hey, we all have our vices. Some people have internet porn. Ted has peanut butter.

Once we had our fill of exhibits, coffee and peanut butter, we headed to Colchester, where our hotel was. Check-in was a breeze. We went off to our room.

Yes, you heard me correctly: our room, which had 2 beds. Yes, we were all going to stay in the same room. Yes, my husband knew about it and, yes, he was okay with it.

Feel better now?

Ted brought his own sleeping bag and insisted that he slept very well on the floor. Since it was all about me, I didn't argue. :-) And besides, I couldn't have come up with two better roommates. Real friendships come from the heart anyway, no matter what your gender may be.

We all unpacked our stuff and decided to rest up for a bit before heading out to drive the course. We talked a bit about race strategy but, mostly, we just enjoyed each other's company and had some laughs. I could feel myself starting to relax more and think less about the impending race, which is always a good thing. We can think ourselves into insanity sometimes. Lord knows I had made an art form of that in the past. Besides, the race was still a good 16 hours away.

Driving the course was a challenging task. In the early miles, you run through the pedestrian marketplace which, obviously, is no place for a car. And, the last 4.5 miles were on the Burlington Bike path. Again, no go. But, we were able to drive around and get a good feel for what most of the course would be like. Plus, the website described the path as "flat to slightly downhill terrain". There is only one phrase I like better than flat when describing a marathon and that is "slightly downhill".

Satisfied with our exploration, it was off to dinner. The restaurant was across the parking lot from our hotel. Not only was it convenient, but it was good too! Here, I'll give them a plug:

http://juniorsvt.com/franke.html

I got to meet a few of John's friends from another running group that were also in town for the marathon. As predicted, they were very nice people and lots of fun to be around. I've always maintained that runners were the friendliest athletes. You can call me biased if you want. Maybe I am, but I really believe it. We ate, drank (well, some of us did) and talked about tomorrow. A few of them were doing their very first marathon, which made John, Ted and I veterans (VCM would the 2nd, 3rd and 5th marathons for us, respectively).

I sat with Ted to my left and John to my right. Ted and I opted to enjoy some red wine with our food. Some people have reservations about having alcohol the night before a race, let alone a marathon. And that's fine. I had tried both strategies and found, for me, the action was much less important than the intention. What I mean by that is, you can decide to abstain from a glass or two of wine the day or two before a big race and still be a big, hot mess of nerves. That's pretty much what happened in Hartford. In my coach's words: "you had built so much emotion, energy and some level of anxiety building to the event that relaxation and confidence didn't have a chance to work itself into the execution of the race". It's not so much about what you eat or drink as it is about how you feel about what you are doing. Your body is pretty good at asking for what it needs while using whatever you give it to perform at its highest level. We just need to learn how to listen.

We finished our delicious meal, said our goodbyes and went back to the hotel. Ted had picked up a bottle of dark rum at a liquor store in Montpelier, so he and John decided to have a nightcap. I decided to pass and it wasn't a matter of virtue, here. I just couldn't imagine red wine and dark rum coexisting peacefully in my stomach.

It had a been a long day. We were all ready to retire for the night. Ted was more ready than John and me; he practically fell asleep sitting up in the chair with the glass in his hand! We chuckled at his ability to sleep anywhere while agreeing that he was the best candidate to sleep on the floor. And, with that, decided to call it a night.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the race, but not with dread or trepidation. Besides, all the work was over. It was done. There was nothing left to do in preparation. Instead, I welcomed the opportunity to run a marathon with friends and decided to enjoy the experience as much as possible. This wasn't a training run, nor was this a "just finish" kind of undertaking. I knew this was going to be the race of my life.

I was ready.

Mayday! Mayday!

May 27th, 2010 marked the 21st and final day that I wrote my marathon affirmation. I suppose I could have continued to write it beyond the three week period, but, by that time, I had begun to occupy myself with thoughts of pre-marathon preparation: packing, planning and panicking.

Yes, you heard me. Panicking.

My training for Vermont City had gone extremely well. I nailed my workouts and was in a state of great physical health. I was strong, energetic and felt physically ready. However, remember this daunting statement: Running is 80% mental and 20% physical.

On this 27th day of May, I worked 6-1 and zoomed back home to cram in a 4 mile run and quick shower before my 3 p.m. massage appointment. Since I would be running 26.2 miles in less than 72 hours, this was just supposed to be an easy run to keep my legs loose and my mind focused. The taper can really mess with you, as I've discussed before.

I got myself wired for sound (GPS and iPod) and headed out the door.

The first couple of miles were pretty uneventful. I just kept chugging along, enjoying the day.

Then, around mile 3, I felt this wave of nearly overwhelming panic wash over me.

Oh
My
God

I'm running a MARATHON in three days! Omigod, omigod, omigod...

What if I can't do it???

What if I start off too fast like I did in Hartford???

What if I fail??? Everyone I KNOW knows I want to qualify for Boston at this race!!!!

Those and other equally unproductive thoughts continued to assault my consciousness with an unrelenting force. I nearly crumpled under the weight of negativity that I had allowed to creep in.

And I willingly went right along with it, bathing in self-pity and retreating to the proverbial fetal position. For a little while.

Then, all of a sudden, something inside of me shifted.

Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto is portrayed in the 2001 film Pearl Harbor, as saying after his attack on Pearl Harbor, "I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve."

That, my friends, is exactly what happened.

Remember that scene in the movie "A Christmas Story" when Ralphie reached his breaking point and goes postal on Scut Farkus? Well, my inner being proceeded to beat my chronic pattern of defeating thoughts into a bloody heap.

In other words, I had enough.

I was tired of doubting myself. I was fed up with not recognizing my worthiness. And I was SO done with this false modesty crap. When was I going to stand up and take notice of my indomitable spirit, character and ability?

Bob Harper, trainer from NBC's blockbuster reality show, "The Biggest Loser" is quoted as saying: Don't say 'I can't'. It really pisses me off. I work as a personal trainer/fitness instructor by trade, so I chuckled knowingly when I heard it. Truthfully, I would get frustrated with my clients and participants at times when they would shy away from going a little further or pushing a little harder. I would feel my blood boil when they uttered that paltry phrase.

I CAN'T.

And I would say to them, "you don't know if you can or you can't because you haven't tried. What you really mean to say is you don't want to. You're using your fear of failure as an excuse not to even try."

Wasn't I essentially doing the same thing here?

Dammit, it's just easier telling other people what to do. But, if you want to be true to yourself, you not only have to talk the talk.

You gotta walk the walk.

Or, in my case, run the run.

This time, I came to my own rescue. I heard the call of the frightened part of my personality that always feared she would never be enough. I decided, once and for all, it was time to choose me. It was time to believe in my ability to succeed, no matter what happens today, tomorrow or May 30th.

Of course, this was all happening internally as I ran that last mile home. Imagine all the motorists going by me, seeing me trot down Main Street. If only they knew about the transformation that was occurring in the heart and mind of the girl with the bouncing, blonde ponytail as she ran to, instead of away from, who she REALLY was.

The subsequent wave of relief that I felt after coming to terms with that was equivalent, in terms of intensity, to the shower of anxiety I was doused by just minutes before. But instead of being nearly overwhelmed, I was emancipated. Vindicated. Triumphant.

I'll say it again: I finally came to my own rescue. And it was high time I had.

This quote sums up that experience for me:

"Don't be afraid if things seem difficult in the beginning. That's only the initial impression. The important thing is not to retreat; you have to master yourself."

Olga Korbut
Gymnast - Four Time Olympic Gold Medalist

I'd say I earned that 90 minute massage, wouldn't you?

Crisis averted.

It's the...FI...NAL...COUNT...DOWN...

Nothing like a little 80's hair band ballad to start off my blog entry.

Bet you're going to have that song in your head all day now, aren't you???

Well, this IS the final countdown. The last big run for Vermont City is in the books and this is where training volume starts to reduce. May 8th was the last BIG long run. Nothing will be that big again until May 30th. The day after my rainy run, I did an easy 40 minute run outside to work out the kinks a bit more. I also had a massage scheduled on Monday, May 10th, which is always deliciously awesome.

But, there was something else I started to do right around the terrible taper time.

I decided to affirm.

Affirm what, you ask?

Well, I decided to create an affirmation.

What exactly IS an affirmation?

Here is wikipedia's definition:

Affirmation is a declaration that something is true.

Oh, okay.

Now, let me explain how this related to the marathon and why I thought it would be helpful.

My goal for VCM was to run a BQ which, for me, was 3:45:59 or better. So, that is how my coach had me train. All of my workouts and long runs were aimed toward running 26.2 miles in this time or faster. Great.

However, we cannot forget about the mental aspect of training. Don't quote me on this, but I read somewhere that running is 80% mental and 20% physical.

Yikes.

So, in other words, I've been running 22-23 mile long runs and doing double digit track workouts just so I am 20% of the way prepared???

Doesn't sound too comforting, now does it?

I didn't just need to train my body. I needed to train my brain.

Hence, the affirmation.

To be effective, an affirmation should be positive and in the present. In other words, act "as if" you are already doing it. After giving this some thought, I came up with this sentence:

I am running sub 3:45 marathons with ease.

There. It's positive (the "ease" part) and it's in the present (the "am running" part).

Now that I had created this powerful statement, what exactly was I supposed to do with it?

Well, I had to write it down. A lot. Like 21 times, three times a day; morning, afternoon and evening.

That's equivalent to repeating that sentence 63 times a day. And I committed to do this for 21 days.

Why 21 days?

It has been shown that it takes about that long to break, or make, a habit.

What is a habit?

A habit is something you do over and over and over again without thinking.

Bet you didn't think this post was going to be this educational, did you???

I had to declare that I was running sub 3:45 marathons with ease and I had to do it until it was something I believed. A belief is just a thought that you keep thinking. Once you plant the seed, you need to water it. My repetition of this affirmation was me watering the seed.

It just so happens that my seed was really, really, really well hydrated.

I began to establish my new pattern of thought on Friday, 5/7. I wrote out this "mantra" of mine 21 times in the morning, 21 times in the afternoon and 21 times in the evening.

And, I did this for 21 days in a row.

I affirmed that "I was running sub 3:45 marathons with ease" 1,323 times in a three week period.

I had my 20% part covered. And now, I'd be chipping away at that 80% part too. Giving it 100% of your energy and effort seems a lot simpler now once you know how it all works, doesn't it?

Will things ever be the same again?
It's the final countdown.

Champions Train Alone

Let me say once more: don't ever let me get this behind in the blog again. This is taking a lot longer than I thought. I still have three and a half months worth of stories to tell!

Crikey.

I think I need to quit my job so I have more time to devote to my blogging.

Until then, I'll do my best to catch up.

After the Margaritas 5K, it was pretty much business as usual: 50 minute run on Monday, 7 miles on Tuesday...oh yeah, and THIS monster of a track workout on Wednesday:

15 minutes easy
** 1.59 mi in 15:01 (Avg Pace 9:27/mi)

- session -

1. 6 continuous laps at 2:02 a lap

** 1.50 mi in 11:51 (Avg Pace 7:52/mi) (Max Speed 8.8 mph)

with 1 lap jog in 3:30-4:00 min or less

** 0.25 mi in 2:25 (Avg Pace 9:40/mi)

2. 4 x 400 at 1:52 with 90 sec rest after each

** 0.26 mi in 1:42 (Avg Pace 6:38/mi) (Max Speed 10.0 mph) -- rested 90 seconds
** 0.25 mi in 1:40 (Avg Pace 6:46/mi) (Max Speed 10.5 mph) -- rested 90 seconds
** 0.26 mi in 1:44 (Avg Pace 6:48/mi) (Max Speed 10.1 mph) -- rested 90 seconds
** 0.26 mi in 1:43 (Avg Pace 6:40/mi) (Max Speed 10.7 mph) -- rested 90 seconds

3. 5 continuous laps at 2:00-2:02 a lap

** 1.24 mi in 9:43 (Avg Pace 7:48/mi) (Max Speed 9.6 mph)

with 1 lap jog in 3:30-4:00 min or less

** 0.25 mi in 2:29 (Avg Pace 9:48/mi)

4. 3 x 400 at 1:50-1:52 with 90 sec rest after each

** 0.26 mi in 1:46 (Avg Pace 6:55/mi) (Max Speed 9.7 mph) -- rested 90 seconds
** 0.25 mi in 1:45 (Avg Pace 6:56/mi) (Max Speed 9.5 mph) -- rested 90 seconds
** 0.25 mi in 1:46 (Avg Pace 7:04/mi) (Max Speed 9.5 mph) -- rested 90 seconds

5. 3 continuous laps at 2:00 min a lap

** 0.78 mi in 5:51 (Avg Pace 7:31/mi) (Max Speed 9.7 mph)

with 1 lap jog in 3:30-4:00 or less

** 0.26 mi in 2:29 (Avg Pace 9:39/mi)

6. 3 x 400 at 1:50-1:52 with 90 sec rest after each repeat

** 0.25 mi in 1:46 (Avg Pace 7:02/mi) (Max Speed 9.9 mph) -- rested 90 seconds
** 0.25 mi in 1:47 (Avg Pace 7:06/mi) (Max Speed 10.4 mph) -- rested 90 seconds
** 0.26 mi in 1:41 (Avg Pace 6:32/mi) (Max Speed 10.7 mph) -- rested 90 seconds

cool down 12-15 minutes

** 1.53 mi in 15:01 (Avg Pace 9:48/mi)

Total Mileage for workout: 9.95 (almost 10!!!!)


It's okay if you don't understand what it all means. There is a whole lot going on there. Please accept my deepest apologies if I inadvertently made your eyeballs bleed.

My long run for the week was taking place on Saturday, May 8th. This would be my last BIG one before the terrible taper for Vermont would commence. The day before, I put out emails to my runner friends to see if anyone wanted to accompany me for some, if not all, of it. Once again, no takers.

Cyndi was starting to get a BIT of a complex.

So, I told my co-worker, Bob, about it. I may not have ever mentioned Bob before. Let me tell you a bit about this 73 year old man.

Back in the day, Bob was a three hour marathoner. At the height of his racing, he logged more miles in one month than I probably do in three. Not only did he run almost 70 marathons in his career, but he did a 100K from Philadelphia to Atlantic City. That's like, 62 miles.

Did I happen to mention that he is known as "The Mule?" Can't imagine where THAT nickname came from.

Anyway, I told Bob about my plight. He scoffed at my whining and had this to say:

"Cyndi, champions train alone."

Obviously, I was not going to get any sympathy from him.

On top of apparently having no friends, guess what was in the forecast for long run day??? Yup, you guessed it.

Rain.

And none of this light spritzing business that one finds refreshing after being out for a couple of hours. We're talking thunder, lightning and downpours.

Awesome.

The thought of taking the easiest way out became very appealing to me. So, I sent an email to my coach:


-----Original Message-----
From: Cynthia Ann Springford
To: "Da Coach"
Sent: Fri, May 7, 2010 8:06 am
Subject: Weather pending...

Would it be practical to do the long run on Sunday INSTEAD of Saturday. Looks like it may be pretty wet tomorrow…


Shortly afterwards, I received his reply:


From: "Da Coach"
Sent: Friday, May 07, 2010 8:21 AM
To: Cynthia Ann Springford
Subject: Re: Weather pending...

Cyndi,

We can switch but for weather??:):). What if it's raining hard on May 30th???


Ahhhhh, so he's taking the GUILT route! Son of a biscuit.

Once I uttered my fair share of words that I'm pretty sure you still can't say on television, I emailed back:


From: Cynthia Ann Springford
Sent: Friday, May 07, 2010 8:20 AM
To: "Da Coach"
Subject: RE: Weather pending...

Grumble, grumble…

Okay, Coach…you shamed me into it. Thanks a lot. ;-)

That’s why they make rain jackets for runners, right?


My attempt at putting a brave face on. Not bad, eh????

Once my brave face was on, I updated my status on facebook to let the world at large know just how badass I was by taking on the arduous task of 3-4 hours running in the rain. One of my friends (in fb and real life), and sort of neighbor, Sheryl, asked me where I would be running so she could drive by me with water and words of encouragement. I sort of chuckled and said that was a nice offer, but she didn't have to do that. However, she insisted it wouldn't be an inconvenience and, furthermore, thought it would be fun.

Now, who am I to rain on her parade (pun intended)??? If she wants to be my personal pit crew, then the least I could do is let her. What can I say? I'm a giver.

I told her where I'd be running and what time I planned on starting. After signing off, I got myself dressed and ready to go for rainy running. I decided to carry some water with me, not because I didn't believe her, but you never know. Stuff happens.

Just in case.

Off I went under overcast skies. The first few miles was light to moderate rain, but it was tolerable. I was shuffling along at my "long slow distance pace" and feeling pretty good.

Then, the sky opened up.

Slowly, but surely, the rain intensified. About six or seven miles in, it was more like moderate to heavy. I had managed to keep my shoes somewhat dry up until this point. Puddles were starting to form on the ground. I did my best to dodge them. At least it temporarily distracted me from getting pi**ed on.

And, then I saw her. My knight in shining armor. Well, in this case, minivan.

Sheryl parked on a side street and leaped out of her vehicle wearing long pants, baseball hat and rain jacket. She asked how I was doing. I told her I was almost 1/3rd through the run and was doing okay. She had a dixie cup of water, like you would get at a race and handed it to me while jogging. She asked where I was headed, and I gave her a play by play of the next few miles. She left me with some more words of encouragement and jogged back to her steed (i.e. minivan).

Now, I didn't really NEED the water. Number one, I brought my own. Number two, it was raining cats and poodles, for the love of Pete. All I had to do was tip my head back and open my mouth. But, that water never tasted so good. Seeing her gave me a little boost. At least I had one friend. And, I attempted to drink out of a paper cup while running for the first time in ages. This would prove to be very valuable later on.

I must have seen her six or seven more times that day. She would drive by me, pull over, take my empties, give me cups of water and words of encouragement. After seeing her for the third or fourth time, I said, "something tells me you've done this before. You're way too good at it." She laughed.

It was the most fun I think I've ever had on a solo long run. The conditions were ABYSMAL. My shoes and socks were soaked. I could feel a colony of blisters forming on my feet. I looked like a drowned rat. The sky turned very dark and, yes, there was even thunder and lightning. But, there was a big smile on my face, thanks to Sheryl. Her frequent visits broke up the distance for me quite nicely.

I finally turned on my street about 22ish miles in. She pulls into my driveway and gets out to see me finish. I ran up and back, ending at my driveway. 22.56 miles in the rain. Boooooo Ya!!!! I high-fived and hugged Sheryl, thanking her for making a potentially dismal day much brighter.

I sent my stats to Coach in an email:


-----Original Message-----
From: Cynthia A Springford
Sent: Saturday, May 08, 2010 2:49 PM
To: "Da Coach"
Subject: GPS Stats from long run today

Good afternoon, Coach:

Well, you shamed me into it. ;-)

Seriously, I did my long run this morning. In the rain. Here are my stats:

5/8/2010 8:09:24 AM

Total Distance
22.56 mi

Total Time
3:33:21

Avg Pace
9:27/mi

Avg Speed
6.3 mph

Max Speed
9.3 mph

Total Ascent
3131 ft

Total Descent
3130 ft

Lap 01 -- 9:43
Lap 02 -- 9:28
Lap 03 -- 9:16
Lap 04 -- 9:20
Lap 05 -- 9:28
Lap 06 -- 9:35
Lap 07 -- 9:21
Lap 08 -- 9:38
Lap 09 -- 9:46
Lap 10 -- 9:19
Lap 11 -- 9:26
Lap 12 -- 9:22
Lap 13 -- 9:26
Lap 14 -- 9:31
Lap 15 -- 9:29
Lap 16 -- 9:41
Lap 17 -- 9:22
Lap 18 -- 9:14
Lap 19 -- 9:28
Lap 20 -- 9:15
Lap 21 -- 9:27
Lap 22 -- 9:30
Lap 23 -- 5:04 (9:03/mi)

Overall, I felt pretty good (well, except for the wet socks). My left hamstring felt tight in the middle miles, but I kept telling myself that I was strong and healthy as I ran. The feeling did subside.

One of my friends drove around while I ran and gave me cups of water & took my empty bottles...talk about super great. I must have seen her over a half dozen times between miles 8 and 22. She was there as I finished too, so that was a nice boost.

I see a couple blisters on the feet, but it's not surprising since I was in wet shoes/socks for quite some time. They don't look too big and scary.

Now, I relax!
______________

Truthfully, I felt great; empowered even. I was so incredibly pumped that I didn't wuss out and take the path of least resistance. Most importantly, big props to Sheryl for being my one woman crew that day. And what a great job she did too. If I ever sign up for one of those crazy ultra marathons, I want to take her with me.

So, the moral of the story is this:

Champions DO train alone.

But...

even WE get thirsty.

Beer. The final frontier.

Sunday, 5/2/10. The time had come.

My fifth and final "Will Run For Beer" race. There was just one more 5K standing between me and that jacket.

Let me just say those LOCO Running folks sure know how to throw a party (and no, they didn't pay me to say that). This race was called the "Cinco de Mayo" 5K at Margaritas in Exeter, NH. So, not only are you running for beer, but you get to have tequila too.

What a country.

At this point, I was less than 30 days away from the "big show": the Vermont City Marathon on 5/30. I did that sick track workout, followed by a day of rest and a 16 mile run outside. I didn't tell Coach about this race, because, well, I just didn't want to. He had mentioned to me before we needed to be careful that the races didn't interfere with the long run. But, since I did the long run the day BEFORE the race, I figured I could bend the rules.

Just this once.

Besides, I was just planning on running this for fun. I know, I know. I'm not very good at that. I say I'll enter a race and not focus on time or the competition, but I always seem to. However, I had that huge breakthrough after my experience with the Great Bay Half Marathon, so this seemed like a good time to put the new me to the test.

My friend, Sarah, and her boyfriend, Tom, decided to do the race too, so we decided to meet up and head over to the race together. After taking a couple of wrong turns (we got a little lost and this time I wasn't driving), we made it to our destination. There were a ton of people there already so we had to take a parking spot across the street. We all had to register for the race since none of us planned ahead (sometimes it's okay to wing it). We didn't get a shirt, but they were passing out these crazy looking sombreros to all of the runners. I almost decided to wear it while I ran, but changed my mind.

Running a race for fun is one thing. Looking like an escaped mental patient is another matter entirely.

Sarah and I went off for a little warm-up jog while Tom opted to warm-up at the gun. We went out for 10-15 minutes, just to warm up the legs. After visiting the portables, we were ready to line up. She and I were going to run together since neither one of us really had a time goal.

Runners take your mark, get set, and go.

The gun goes off and we start to run. Well, more like "shuffle"; the first tenth of a mile is always pretty crowded until you get a little separation. The first mile went by pretty quickly. Somewhere between miles 1 and 2, she and I got separated. I decided to gradually pick up the pace as I ran. I had started off pretty conservatively and felt pretty good, considering I ran 16 miles the day before. I just chipped away at it until mile 2. Then, I figured I could bust out for the last 1.1. There was a decent amount of downhill on that course, so it was pretty easy to negative split.

Negative split = running the 2nd half of a run/race faster than the 1st half.

Knowledge is power.

Now, back to our story.

I crossed the finish line in 24:38, averaging a 7:57 pace. It wasn't my slowest 5K time ever and it certainly wasn't a PR. But, I was good with that. I waited for the regret, disappointment, etc. and it never came. I said I'd run a race for fun and I did. I had a good workout and saw lots of people that I knew. My friend, Jimmie, was there again with his friend, Ken (those where the dudes I hung out with at the April Fools 4 Miler). So, of course, we had to go off and do our requisite 2 mile cool-down. It was tradition, after all.

After our two mile jog was complete, I found Sarah and Tom. We were surveying the food line and debated whether or not to get in it. They were serving Mexican food to all the runners. Those old enough could go inside for a complimentary margarita as well. We were so undecided, we ended up leaving. Instead of beans, rice and tequila, we opted for mai tais and sushi.

What can I say? We march to the beat of our own drummer.

All in all, it was a good day. I had a good run with friends. And I got a free sombrero to boot. I don't have a picture of it, but you can look at my friends and me after the run.

Arriba!!!

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto

After the feeding frenzy I spoke of last time, things were pretty much business as usual. I ran almost 8 miles the following day, which was Wednesday, and taught an hour long spinning class, bringing my estimated daily caloric burn to 1100 kcal. I like counting the calories I EXPEND, not CONSUME. :-)

On Thursday, 4/29, I was supposed to do a track workout. These track workouts are long. Very long. This one in particular was a beauty. Here, I'll share it with you:

Warm up 16 minutes (arbitrary #, but okay, I'll do it).

5 x 400 at 1:55 with 60 sec rest
400 at 1:55 - Go right into a Mile (no stopping)
Mile at 8:20-8:30 ( 2:05-2:07 )
1 lap jog after mile
4 x 400 at 1:52 with 75-90 sec rest after each
400 at 1:52- Go right into 1200 ( no stopping )
1200 ( 3 laps ) at 2:05-2:07 a lap
200 meter jog after the 1200
4 x 400 at 1:50 with 90 sec rest after each
400 at 1:50 - Go right into 800
800 at 4:10-4:15 with cool down

Cool down 15 minutes

Lot of numbers there, eh? Kind of gives you a popsicle headache just looking at it, right? The good thing, for me anyway, is that I've been with Coach at this point for nine months. In that time, I have learned how to decode his "coach speak".

I remember this workout, specifically for two reasons, which I'll explain.

Usually, I like to run in the morning. When I have track workouts to do, it's best to get there between 5 and 6 a.m. Sounds grossly early, I know, but this was the end of April and the kiddos were still in school. If I didn't get done by 7:30 a.m., I ran the risk of getting swarmed by hormone crazed teenagers in the first period phys-ed class.

No THANKS.

So, I sacrifice one morning of sleep in order to have the track to myself. Every now and again, there will be some random person running or walking while I do my workout, but most of the time, it's just me. However, this particular week, a morning workout wasn't feasible because I had to be at work at 6 a.m. One could argue that I could have gotten to the track at 3:30 a.m., but seriously folks, who does that??? It's challenging enough to get up at 4:30 a.m. to be at work for 6 a.m. I would have to do it in the afternoon.

Which would have been fine under normal circumstances.

But, as I'm sure you've already guessed, these were not.

It was an abnormally windy day out. We're talking, like 40 mph wind gust abnormal. However, there was hardly a cloud in the sky and the sun shone brightly. I've run in the cold. I've run 21 miles. I've run in the rain. I've run 21 miles IN the rain.

I was a badass. Or so I thought.

After work, I went home to change, grab the GPS and headed to the track. On the highway, my car was getting blown around like crazy, but I didn't think too much of it. That's what happens when you're cruising down Route 495 doing 80 on a windy day (are there any cops reading this???).

I got out of my car and nearly got blown over. And I'm not a tiny person either. It was THAT windy. Then, I put my water bottle on the roof of my car. Frickin' thing blew off and started rolling down the parking lot. I had to chase after my water bottle. Craziness. But, I figured, how bad could it be once I got moving? Maybe it would subside.

Well, I found out. I did my 5-6 laps around the track to warm-up. I started running with the wind at my back. Pretty great.

Then, I got to the opposite side of the track.

Not so great.

At times, I wasn't even sure I was moving forward anymore. It felt as if someone had a huge rubber band around my waist and was pulling me back while I tried to get away. It was THAT windy. Reason number one.

Now, for reason number two.

After 12-13 minutes of this, I came to the conclusion that it was going to be quite a challenge to hit all of my splits with the wind gusting like it was. I did my 15 minute warm-up and decided to get the @%$# out of there.

I was treadmill bound.

Ew.

Once upon a time, I didn't mind the treadmill. At times, I almost preferred it. I guess you could say I was a fair weather runner in the beginning. In fact, I used to split my time fairly evenly between outside and inside the first few years I ran. Then, gradually, it became less and less appealing to me. I would layer more when it was cold. I would wear a jacket and hat if it rained. I would plan my run on hot days early or late in the day.

Having said all that, you can imagine how windy it had to have been for me to pick the treadmill on a sunny day. But, this wasn't just a easy paced training run around the neighborhood. This was a track workout and, I gotta tell you, I didn't see much of a difference between running around the oval 35-40 times and making like a hamster for 75-80 minutes. No one can tell me, with a straight face, that they run at the track for the endorphins or "zen like" experience of being in the great outdoors.

I chose the latter. Between the iPod, closed captioning on the TV's and the interesting cast of characters that paraded in and out of the gym during my run, I managed to log 9-10 miles without dying of boredom. Okay, so I didn't slug it out in the gusty wind. However, running in place for that long requires a certain level of mental toughness. There is only so much one can be distracted by watching tv or people. I mean, you kind of have to focus on staying on the belt, particularly when it's going between 7.5-8.5 mph.

I've seen people wipe out on a treadmill. It's not pretty, folks.

So, I'm good with the decision I made and don't regret choosing the treadmill. I still got my workout in and sweat like a fiend. It was a win win.

And I was STILL a badass.

We now return to our regularly scheduled program already in progress

After running the Country Roads 5K on 4/24, I stayed in NJ for a few more days to rest, relax, reminisce and run (ever notice I kinda got a "thing" for "r" words??). I ended up flying home very early on Tuesday, April 27th. My plane landed in Manchester at 8:05 a.m. My husband picked me up and brought me home so I could jump right in my car and go back to work.

How's THAT for dedication???

It's always nice to come home; not because I get to go back to work (although things are a-okay on the career front), but I get to see my pals. I had invited John and Ted over to my place for a 6 p.m. run around my fair city (okay, so we're not exactly big enough to be called a city). The three of us went for a 6ish mile run on the main streets and back roads of the lovely place I call home. The run is always fun for us. We enjoy the challenge, we enjoy the fellowship and we enjoy the sheer joy of movement.

But, you know what else we love?

Mai Tais.

And Chinese food that could probably survive a nuclear holocaust.

You only live once, as far as we know, so might as well enjoy it.

After we got cleaned up from our run, my husband came home from a long day of lawn care. We told him of our devious plan to partake in cocktails and crab rangoon. It took a little arm twisting, but he decided to come along for the ride.

The four of us went to our favorite "hole in the wall" place where the lighting is dim and the drinks are strong. We took a booth in the bar area and waited for the bartender to come over.

Now, I must say this isn't the first time that John, my husband, and I have frequented this establishment for food and drink as a group. Au contraire, mon frere. We've been a few times and had our order down to a science: beef teriyaki, some variation of lo mein, scallion pancakes, crab rangoon and spring rolls (John and I are fans...my husband, not so much). Whenever we go, we always end up having food to take home (most of the time, we coerce John to take it so he can "enjoy it" for another day or so).

After noticing us, the bartender took our drink order and left us menus so we could pick out what we wanted. We looked it over and then decided to go with the tried and true. If it's not broken, don't fix it, right? Besides, we figured if Ted enjoyed running and our company, he probably would eat what we ate too. So, when Carlos the bartender (I know, an Asian man named Carlos working at a Chinese restaurant...I don't get it either) came back to take our order, we rattled it off as fluently as a military man would recite his name, rank and serial # when asked.

While we waited for our food to arrive, we tried to talk about things other than running. I mean, John, Ted and I are pretty single minded in regards to this particular subject and can prattle on for hours on end. Hubby is a good sport, but there is only so much of it he can relate to since he wasn't training for a marathon, nor does he plan to. Ever. Thankfully, we managed to find more neutral topics of conversation as we sipped our mai tais.

Carlos came back moments later with our food. We ate, drank and talked. Ate, drank, and talked. Ate. Drank. Talked.

And then, the unthinkable happened.

It was gone. All of it. The food. All gone.

Scarfed.
Done.
Consumed.

Not a noodle or speck of spring roll remained. We sat back in the booth, amazed that we could actually finish it all. For the first time ever, we wouldn't hear that all important question: would you like to take that home? There was nothing to take home!!!

Our drinks were gone as well. It was time to pay the bill and be on our way. Ted was kind enough to drive, so we all piled in his car. The restaurant is only about two miles from our house, so it was a short ride back. We said our goodbyes to John and Ted, thanking them for their company and off they went.

As I reflected on the day's events (and what a long day it had been), I smiled, thinking about how much fun it was. I know it might seem counterintuitive to some who are physically fit to indulge in Chinese Food and mai tais after a 6 mile run. I mean, I can get down with a tall glass of iced water and a grilled chicken salad as much as the next fitness freak. But it's not so much about what you're eating, really. It's how you feel about what you are doing. Okay, I get it: a calorie is a calorie. But, we were laughing. We were genuinely enjoying each other's company. We were allowing ourselves to indulge in some culinary delights that might not even pass as real food in some places.

But, I loved it. Every second.

Because that, my friends, is living life. It's about being present and in the moment. Sometimes, but not always, those moments involve greasy food and fruity drinks that will knock you on your a$$ if you have one too many. And that's okay. It's okay to throw caution to the wind every now and again and say, "screw it".

They say ignorance is bliss for a reason. I don't know how many calories or chemicals were in my food and drink that night, nor do I want to. I am learning to listen to and trust my body a little bit more, knowing that one night is not going to be a dealbreaker. There is a place in life for nights like those. The root of the word "diet" is "die". Coincidence? I think not.

Carl Jung once said, "what you resist persists". The more you push against something, the more you get what you do not want. The more you deprive yourself and forbid yourself to do or have something, the more you will want to do or have it. It's just the way we are. Accepting, basking, enjoying and relaxing seems like a much better alternative to me, at least. If you are going to do something, you might as well do it and have fun in the process.

Tomorrow, I'll gladly return to the land of lean protein, complex carbs and vegetables.

But, until then, I'm going to enjoy my full belly and slight buzz. :-)

Carpe diem.

Where do you go from here?

Today, I'm deviating from my normal blogging pattern.

I'm not going to talk about races, running for beer, earning jackets, or marathon training.

I just want to share some news and observations.

On Monday morning (7/12), I found out that an old friend of mine had sustained a loss over the weekend. Her husband died.

By his own hand. You see, he shot himself.

At the time, they were separated but had planned on trying to work things out. They also have two children under the age of 13.

When something like this happens, most people say things such as, "how selfish of him!" or "how dare he leave his children like that???" or, maybe even, "what a coward."

I'm not going to say any of those things.

But, I will say that I knew him once upon a time. I always found him to be a friendly, nice, generally good guy. I don't know what kind of a husband he was, nor do I know what kind of a father he was. But, none of that really matters anyway, does it? You can put whatever kind of spin you want on it, really. It does nothing to change what happened. We can say all we want that he didn't have to do this; that there was another way out. But, if he believed that, he'd still be here. Obviously, it was the only way out he saw. It was the way out he chose. Like it or not, that's the truth.

When people die, whether it be due to illness or a suicide, we want so much to make sense of it. We have to pigeonhole, categorize, justify and explain. We have to package it up in a nice, neat, little pile and tie a bow around it. It makes us just FEEL better somehow. I don't know why he did what he did. Even his own family cannot speak for him. The only person that can answer that question isn't here anymore. That's the way it is.

What I do know and what I do believe is that life is supposed to be good for all of us. We are supposed to love and be loved. We should travel a path of joy, happiness and well-being. We should embrace our now and live in the moment, cherishing every second of every single day.

So, I won't label, judge, categorize or blame.

I won't analyze, justify or wallow.

Because it won't bring him back or soothe anyone's pain.

Instead...

I will smile a little more.
I will hug my loved ones a little tighter.
I will kiss them a little longer.
I will strive to love all people unconditionally.
I will find more things to appreciate and complain less often.
I will live my life in a manner pleasing to myself.
I will follow my bliss.
I will take responsibility for my own happiness.

I will live life to the utmost.

That's where I am going to go from here.

May you now rest in peace, friend.

Country Roads, Take Me Home

And that is the first and last time I will ever use a John Denver song as the title of a blog entry.

No offense intended, of course...may he rest.

But, I couldn't help myself.

The next race on my calendar just happened to be the 5th Annual Allies, Inc. Country Roads 5K in Allentown, NJ on Saturday, April 24, 2010, hence the song reference. And it was going to be super special because my cousin, Laurie, would be there running and my cousin, Scott, (her brother) would be there spectating with his daughter and Laur's two munchkins. The race started and ended at Cream Ridge Winery. Let me give them a plug:

http://www.creamridgewinery.com/

I've tasted several varieties of their wine and, well, it's just delicious. So, when I saw they had a race, it was a no brainer. Wine and running, after all, are two of my favorite things in the world.

All you had to do was throw chocolate in there and I would have gone delirious with excitement. Anyone got a cigarette???

Southwest was giving out super cheap airfare too. I got myself a round trip ticket from Manchester to Philadelphia for well under $100, flying out on Thursday, April 22nd and returning early on Tuesday, April 27th. Laur offered to pick me up and drop me off at the airport too. As if I needed another reason to take the trip, it was her birthday on April 23rd. I haven't been able to celebrate her special day with her in a very long time since I'm up here and she's down there. So, it was a trip I couldn't pass up for many, many good reasons.

My flight was departing Manchester at 7 a.m on 4/22, so it was an early to bed, early to rise for Cyndi Lou. My husband was kind enough to drive me to the airport so I didn't have to leave my car in long term parking. Aw.

I arrived in Philly on time and headed to baggage claim, texting my cousin as I walked. Thankfully, I didn't walk into anyone while doing so. As the escalator descended, I caught view of her. We hugged and collected my bag. She introduced me to her friend, Theresa, who came along for the airport ride. My cousin said she wanted to have a girls day, which included going to her favorite flea market. This didn't sound too bad...at first.

We drove 30-40 minutes to this place (in Columbus, NJ, I think). We walked around, and around, and around...for what seemed like days. I love my cousin with my whole heart, but apparently, I don't share her love of flea markets. There are just tables and tables and tables of STUFF...and after a while, well, it just all starts to look alike. It's almost as if the producers of the show "Hoarders" took a bunch of random items from the people they feature on their show and just dumped it here, there and everywhere. The only thing that could numb the pain of flea marketing was pizza.

When the girls finally had their fill of "the flea", we hit the road for greener pastures. Not only do the girls like to shop, but they like wine too. Off to Laurita Winery in New Egypt, NJ for a tasting! Aw, what the heck, I'll give them a plug too:

http://www.lauritawinery.com/

We sampled ten of Laurita's finest offerings; some white, some red, some super fruity. It was a nice way to unwind after the early flight and hours of walking around tables of stuff people were trying to get rid of. We headed back to Laurie's house to see the family. I suited up to go for an easy six mile run. Laurie wasn't up for running that long or far with me, but she opted to bike next to me while I ran.

With one condition.

That I wouldn't laugh when I saw her bike.

I said, "Cuz, that's just ridiculous. Why would I laugh at your bike?"

She replied, "you'll see".

Apparently, she got this bike from freecycle which, as you can surmise, is a way to get free stuff. So, she brings it out of the garage. It was just a big old bike, with big old handlebars. But, I stayed true to my promise and did not laugh. I'm sure her warning me about it being free allowed me to control myself.

So, we were off. She pedaled next to me while I ran a comfortable pace. We chatted and enjoyed the sunshine together. About four miles in, I heard a hissing sound. Laurie just kept talking. I interrupt her mid-sentence.

"Um, cuz, I think you got a flat tire."

She looks at me in mild horror, "No way!"

Then she looked over her shoulder to check it out for herself.

And that is when she heard the hissing sound too.

She exclaimed, "Oh man! Do you think I can make it home??"

I look at my watch and then look at the tire. "Not for two miles, you can't."

So, we opted to take a shortcut back to her house, all the while hoping the bike would make it. Thankfully, it did. I left her there to finish up my run solo. I only had a little over a mile left to do. And I was really looking forward to being alone for a few minutes, so I could get all the laughter out I had been holding in about the bike, the tire and the look on her face.

Come on, admit it. You'd laugh too.

I enjoyed a nice family dinner with her, her husband, Shane, and their two kids. The next day was her birthday. We ended up going to the Borgata Casino in Atlantic City, which was only about an hour drive from her place. We promised each other to use $20 on the nickel slots. Once it was gone, it was gone. That was it. No more.

We stretched out that money for a good forty-five minutes or so. Just in time for the opening of the Borgata Buffet. For $17.95, you can give yourself a stomachache the likes of which you've never seen. Oh, but it was so worth it. Besides, it was her birthday. Everyone knows that birthday calories don't count.

We headed back to her place and relaxed for a while in the sun, praying lunch would be digested in time for dinner. I like to eat just as much as the next person, but even I have my limits. Thankfully, Shane wasn't going to be home from work until later. Not only did he take us out for dinner, but he and the kids surprised Laurie with a homemade birthday cake.

Now you know why I run so much.

After more eating, drinking and laughing, it was time to turn in. The 5K was at nine in the morning and we wanted to get there in plenty of time. Not only was Laurie doing the race but her friend, John was going to be there as well. From what she told me, he sounded like a pretty good runner. Turns out he ran the 2009 Philadelphia Marathon too, turning in a time of 3:23:23...24 minutes and 23 seconds ahead of me. Sheesh. Pretty sure I wouldn't be running with HIM at all.

We managed to get ourselves and the two kids up and ready in record time. Shane had to work that day, so he wasn't able to join us. He wished us a good run and we took off. After a minor GPS snafu, we arrived at our destination. We spotted my cousin instantly and went over to join him. We all must have looked pretty photogenic, because New Jersey 101.5 just HAD to take our picture for their webpage. They even gave us water bottles for our trouble (see pic above).

Shortly after that, I finally got to meet Laur's friend, John, live and in person.
I may have mentioned this before, but one of the reasons I love being a runner so much is the camaraderie. I had just met John that day, but we already had a bond. We've done a marathon. We "get it". So, it was like reuniting with an old friend. After registration, he and I did a warm-up jog together with a couple of strides at the end. Once we were race ready (which includes one more visit to the portables), we collected my cousin and walked to the start line. The race wasn't chip timed, so John and I positioned ourselves as close to the front as we could.

The race got underway shortly after that. As predicted, I saw John for all of ten seconds, which was fine. I firmly believe in "running your own race". And, I knew going in that he was faster than me. I wasn't sure how hard I was going to push it since I had a long run to do the next day. I told Coach I didn't mind just "running it for fun" if racing it would interfere with the marathon prep. But, before I left for Jersey, Ted encouraged me to "plan to fail"...to set a goal so outrageous, I didn't think I would meet it. So, I just randomly said, "okay, I plan to break 22 minutes". I didn't really think I'd do that since my speed focus was for marathon, not 5K, training.

I guess you could say I had Coach on one shoulder and Ted on the other. Somewhere after mile one, I decided to push the pace and just run as hard as I could. Screw it. I'm already here. Might as well see what I got in the tank. And that is exactly what I did (sorry, Coach). About halfway through the race, I noticed an older gentleman about 10-15 feet in front of me, wearing a 2010 Boston Marathon shirt. I fixed my gaze on him and made him my pacer.

Just keep looking at him, Cyndi. Keep him in your sights.

Country Roads, Take Me Home. Boston 2010, take me home.

Unfortunately, I don't have the GPS stats handy to share with you, but I'm happy to say that I crossed the finish line in under 22 minutes. I planned to fail, just like Ted suggested. And it worked! I saw John and he gave me a big hug, congratulating me on a good race. We decided to work a cooldown run into a recon mission to find my cousin. We jogged in the reverse direction until we spotted her and then ran her in. It was so much fun to see her cross the finish line. Her kids were on the sidelines too, cheering loudly for her as she finished. Something like that is almost sweet enough to make me reconsider having children.

Almost.

The powers that be posted the race results, so we walked over to look at our times. John ran 19:10 and came in 1st for M4049. I ran 21:53 and took 2nd for F3039. Laurie came in 223 out of 260 runners with a great time of 35:14. I was so proud of her.

While we waited for the awards to be given out, I went over to Boston 2010 and introduced myself. I thanked him for being my unofficial pace car and told him about my quest to qualify for Boston. His name was Rudy and he lived in New Jersey. We talked about running for quite a while. Again, that whole camaraderie thing.

Finally, they gave out the age group awards. I collected a 2nd place certificate and received $10 worth of coupons for Dunkin' Donuts. Not bad for a day's work, eh? Before leaving the winery, we celebrated with a couple glasses of wine in the parking lot. It's like tailgating for cultured people. I exchanged numbers with John so we could stay in touch. Currently, he is training for the 2010 Chicago marathon. I have no doubt that he'll rock that thing.

Laurie suggested we get going before everyone was too drunk to drive, so we said our goodbyes to John and got on those country roads one final time. Because, it was time.

Time to enjoy being with my family for the rest of the weekend.
Time to go home. :-)

The loneliness of the long distance runner

I love google.

How did we ever function without it? What did we do instead; go to the library? Or, I'll do you one better, go to the bookshelf and get an ENCYCLOPEDIA???

Bah.

The only "pedia" I like is wikipedia. And it states:

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner is a short story by Alan Sillitoe which was published in 1959 as part of a short story collection of the same name. The work focuses on Colin, a poor Nottingham teenager from a dismal home in a blue-collar area, who has bleak prospects in life and few interests beyond petty crime. The boy turns to long-distance running as a method of both an emotional and a physical escape from his situation.

So, now you know where that phrase comes from. I know I was curious.

After Great Bay, I was race free on the calendar until April 24th. But, I still had those pesky long runs to do in preparation for the Vermont City Marathon on May 30th. Coach gave me a 21 miler to do on Saturday, April 17th. For the first time in a while, I was going this alone. All of my go to running peeps were otherwise occupied. Christine had her Girls Inc. 5K on that day. She is the race director/organizer. In addition, she was running the Boston Marathon on Monday. I am sure she didn't think a 21 mile run 48 hours before was a good idea. As for Jeremy and John, they were registered for her race. I think Ted had to work. The only company I could get was my fully charged iPod.

I got up early in prep for a 3+ hour excursion on the open road. I looked out the window.

It was cloudy.
And rainy.
Awesome.

After I consumed my pre-run breakfast and wasted 30-45 minutes of time on facebook (damn you, Mafia Wars), I got myself long run ready: vaseline/body glide on chafe zones, dri-fit layers, dri-fit baseball hat, rain jacket, gu, Garmin and iPod (worn INSIDE the jacket, of course). I decided it might be a good idea to run with my cell phone too, since I would be all alone for quite a while. I even had the foresight of putting it inside a ziploc plastic bag before it went in my pocket to insure it stayed nice and dry.

Sometimes, I think I take better care of my electronics than I do myself.

The hardest thing about doing the long run is just getting started. It's even harder when you are by yourself. There is no one at your front door waiting to go with you. It's just you. You are accountable to...well...you! I mean, to a certain extent, I am accountable to my coach, but I still have the final say. First of all, he's not about to show up at my house to run with me, nor should he have to. Secondly, he still gets paid whether I do the runs on my schedule or not. Finally, I am only hurting myself if I don't stick to the plan.

So off I go. And I run the whole thing by myself. Here are the stats:

4/17/2010 8:33:41 AM

Total Distance
21.00 mi

Total Time
3:19:30

Avg Pace
9:30/mi

Avg Speed
6.3 mph

Max Speed
11.8 mph

Total Ascent
3437 ft

Total Descent
3637 ft

Lap 01 -- 9:33
Lap 02 -- 9:17
Lap 03 -- 9:12
Lap 04 -- 9:21
Lap 05 -- 9:25
Lap 06 -- 9:24
Lap 07 -- 9:30
Lap 08 -- 9:51
Lap 09 -- 9:38
Lap 10 -- 9:49
Lap 11 -- 9:37
Lap 12 -- 9:30
Lap 13 -- 9:44
Lap 14 -- 9:24
Lap 15 -- 9:46
Lap 16 -- 9:22
Lap 17 -- 9:25
Lap 18 -- 9:22
Lap 19 -- 9:24
Lap 20 -- 9:35
Lap 21 -- 9:13

Yes, it is a long time to be running. Yes, it was light rain the whole time. And yes, I was alone. But, all of that was okay. When something in life is important enough, you'll do whatever is necessary to do, be or have it. I really want that BQ. I really want to be in the best shape of my life. I really want to be a runner.

So, you won't hear any complaints from me.

Besides, there is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely. I believe Henry David Thoreau said it best:

“I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”

I'm pretty sure that Thoreau didn't have buds shoved in his ears and an iPod blaring when he wrote that, but I think you get the point.

I look forward to pounding the pavement with my running partners again soon. But, in the meantime, 3+ hours of "me time" suits me just fine.

Tastes Great-Less Filling

And Beer Race #4 is: the 4th Annual Great Bay Half-Marathon in Newmarket, NH. The organizers were advertising this race as "Great Bay Lite": 10% less hills and a spectacular downtown finish. I did the 1st Annual Great Bay Half back in 2007. It was the 2nd half-marathon I had ever done and was my PR (1:47:19) Once again, this was Cyndi pre-marathon, so I didn't really have an idea of a time goal. I just wanted to beat my first 1/2 marathon time (Baystate 2006 1:52:57).

And I did. By 5 minutes and 40 seconds, even.

As you may remember, I did the Hampton Half in 1:47:21. That was in February, in colder temps and wind. Between the clever advertising, improved weather conditions and my brand spanking new running skirt, I figured I had this one in the bag.

They had the option of packet pickup the day before as well as the day of the race, so I took advantage of the former option, for two reasons. First, I was spending the day with my brother and thought this might be a scenic ride for us to enjoy. Secondly, and I think you already figured this one out if you've been reading along, if I went the DAY before, I would know EXACTLY where I was going the day of!

Sense a theme here? At least I am consistent.

John and Ted were planning on doing Great Bay as well; John as the best spectator/cheerleader ever, and Ted as a hopeful PR'er (is that even a word? Well it is now.) I also offered to pick up Ted's chip, bib # and shirt so he wouldn't have to stand in line the morning of our half. If the guy was willing to run an entire marathon with me in May, I figured this was the least I could do in return.

I got there super duper early on Sunday morning and had my pick of places to park (try saying THAT five times fast). The race started at the Newmarket High School, but I decided to park at the Elementary School a little further away, figuring it'd be easier to get out when the time came to head home. I let John and Ted know, via text, where I was, visited the bathrooms a couple of times (can I get a "hell yeah" for indoor plumbing??) and got myself ready to go.

Once they arrived, we headed out so Ted and I could warm-up. I met a really nice woman, MJ, at the school while I was waiting for the guys, so we invited her to come along for the fun. We jogged around for 10-15 minutes, took our gu and headed to the start. John was on the sidelines ready to wish us well. We said our goodbyes and took our places in the pack of runners ready to take off. I wished Ted a good race, we hugged and it was game on. Once again, I didn't have a goal time in mind...or at least a goal time I was willing to share with them out loud.

I could go through a play by play of the race, but let me just post my GPS splits here. Then, I'll summarize my experience during the race:

Lap 01 -- 7:55
Lap 02 -- 8:04
Lap 03 -- 7:58
Lap 04 -- 8:26
Lap 05 -- 8:21
Lap 06 -- 8:03
Lap 07 -- 8:06
Lap 08 -- 8:07
Lap 09 -- 8:12
Lap 10 -- 8:20
Lap 11 -- 7:49
Lap 12 -- 9:06
Lap 13 -- 9:11
Lap 14 -- 1:15 (7:04/mi)

As you can see, there was a SIGNIFICANT drop off in my pace for Laps 12 and 13. Right around mile 11, I started getting the Hartford panic. I'm not sure what it is with that mile 11, but man, it is NOT my favorite number at ALL. First of all, it was pretty warm for an April day, so of course, that always has a bearing on your performance. Secondly, I must mention the "lite". I sort of assumed from reading the course description that major hills were pretty much over by mile 9. If you look at laps 10 and 11, you can see that my body did too. However...they really weren't.

As I was completing Lap 11, I was in this neighborhood they call "the lollipop". Think about what a tootsie roll pop looks like and that's kind of what it was. You ran down a road and did a huge circle around, and then headed out the way you came in. So, as you are entering the lollipop, you see all the speedy folks going out (like Ted) and as you exit, you see the not so speedy ones coming in. As I was leaving this neighborhood, I was overwhelmed with the desire to walk.

So I did.

But, unlike Hartford, I didn't quit. I allowed myself 30 second walk breaks and then ran 1 minute. I alternated this pattern for the next 1-2 miles until I saw John and thought, "oh crap, he can't see me walk. Crap, crap, crap!" As a result, you can see the last lap was super speedy. Once I saw the finish line, I knew that I could push myself extremely hard since it would be over in a minute or so.

I saw Ted waiting as I crossed and he hugged me. I was physically and mentally drained. I felt like I had been punched, kicked, bit and spit on about a dozen times. I was BEAT like a rented mule. Ouch, ouch, and ouch.

We made our way down the hill where the post-race celebration was...and where the food and drink was. I was so slow moving, so out of it...almost like in shock. I just wandered around. Then, John came after me, kind of sensing that I wasn't quite right. He gave me a hug and I was choking back tears. I just said to him, "it was so hard. I am so tired." As luck would have it, there was a little stream/pond area at the bottom of the hill. We walked over to it and John suggested I walk in and stand in the cold water to soothe my legs, which were probably a little inflamed, not to mention pissed off. It was like a homegrown ice bath, pretty much.

I did a lot of standing around (as were many other shell shocked runners) and not a lot of talking. Once I finally got some food and drink in me, I started perking up. Then, I started the chatter: maybe it was the heat...maybe I started off too fast...maybe it was the track workout I did earlier in the week. On and on it went. Truth of the matter was, it didn't matter what it was. You can't go back. What's done is done. No need to do an autopsy on the damn thing. It's just a race, for the love of Pete-just let it GO!!! (that is what the voices were telling me, btw).

The race results were posted. Here were my stats:

Net Time
1:48:53

Avg Pace
8:19/mi

#254 overall

14/106 F35-39

I wasn't really happy or sad. I was just...blah. Kind of, well, blah. Just sort of indifferent and sulky. The good news was that Ted placed 2nd in his age group (M45-49) with a stellar time of 1:36:30. Even though I wasn't happy for me, I was happy for him and John and I cheered super loud when he went up for his award. As I said before, I did perk up after the food and drink, but resumed my sulkiness on the ride home.

John and Ted came back to my place post-race for a shower and some Coronas (perfect on a hot day). Once we were all cleaned and liquored up, we watched some golf and relaxed a bit. I wasn't exactly Superbi*ch, but wasn't sugar, spice and everything nice either. I had begun my foray into "wallowing". Thankfully, they're pretty good at putting up with me and my husband was there as a buffer. We said our goodbyes, they headed back to Boston and I commenced to ride the couch for the remainder of that Sunday.

After swapping some emails back and forth with the guys on Monday, John said he had a couple of theories about what had happened with me on Sunday if I wanted to hear them. I said I would be interested in talking about it some more so we made plans to chat on the phone later on that evening.

We talked for a good 30 minutes. First, he mentioned the generic stuff, i.e. the weather, the course and how I may have started off too fast. They were all very valid points and I could appreciate every one of those. Then, he brought up the not so generic stuff.

"You're afraid to fail," he said. "That's why you never tell us what kind of a time you want to run."

Ah, so I'm not as complicated as I like to think I am. Of course he was right. I had suspected that for a while. I just didn't know it was obvious. Perhaps it's not to the casual observer, but John and I were very good friends as well as training partners. All it really takes to see me for what I am is someone who gives half a sh*t about me and is paying attention. I don't hide my feelings well, even if I think that I do.

We talked some more about it and I could just feel the relief flooding over me as we spoke. I told him he was a great friend, that our talk was very helpful, and I'm so glad we are training partners. After I hung up, I just felt lighter.

Ted and I emailed a bit the next day. I had received an inspirational email that I felt compelled to share with he and John, particularly because the timing of it was so spooky. The underlying message of it was simply this: The main factor for dramatic success or failure lies within. After I emailed it to them, Ted replied back sharing his experiences along the road to his first marathon. This excerpt in particular spoke to me:

This is the truth: failure is everything - strive for it because it is the only way you will know exactly what you can do; what you can do AND DO defines you, and therein lies self-esteem. It does not matter what it looks like on the outside so long as you know you tried to fail and gave your maximum effort.

Talk about hitting home! It was time. Time to fess up. I replied back to him:

Those are great words and very inspiring.

John knows me better than I think…in fact, I think I’m so mysterious and complex. I’m really not. Anyone that takes a little time to get to know me and gives half a s**t has me pegged in no time.

I’m afraid to fail. I am afraid to say I’m going to do something and then to see it not happen. I am not just afraid of it. I am terrified. And I am terrified of others seeing it and shaking their head saying to themselves, “I knew she was too good to be true.”

So, there it is. I’ve said it.

I’m so afraid of being anything less than perfect, I limit myself…I tell myself it doesn’t matter…even if it does. I can’t bear the thought of being “less than” and have talked myself into believing that if you don’t try, you won’t fail…therefore you won’t lose.

And, for the most part, I have been able to skate through the first 38 years of my life with this mindset because, more often than not, I do more than most…without trying very hard.

But I lose. Every single time I do this.

The good news is that a belief is just a thought you keep on thinking. Even though I’ve carried it around with me for a very long time, I can choose what I think about from now on since I have learned how powerful our thoughts are. And then I’ll be able to fail.

The lesson I got out of this entire experience was simply this: everything that happens is for the good. If it wasn't for my friends and this 1/2 marathon, I wouldn't have had this epiphany. I saw it for what it was. I acknowledged it was there and I accepted it. I didn't try to push against it anymore and, most importantly, I gave myself a break for the first time in a long time.

Great Bay 2010 may not have been my fastest half-marathon, or my strongest performance. But, I wouldn't trade it for the world, because it brought me to where I am right now. For that, I am so appreciative. Maybe the race didn't "taste great", but the sweetness of what it taught me sure does.

Less baggage = less filling.