As kids we all have been dreams: to play in the NBA, be a ballerina, or maybe an astronaut. But as we get older, our lot in life becomes clear, and you realizes that you have to adjust your dreams: You probably won't be pitching in the major leagues if you are riding the pine in high school; The NBA is a pipe dream if your height tops out at 5'6"; you won't be dancing Swan Lake if you can't even touch your toes; and when you fail calculus you can pretty much kiss your astronaut career goodbye. Fortunately, most people are able to make the necessary adjustments to still be successful adults: you weren't an athlete but you are great at art; or your athleticism led you to be a firefighter instead of an all-star quarter back; and maybe you aren't going to be the prima ballerina, but you are flexible enough to be a great mom. I am lucky I had my brains to fall back on, because when it comes to running, it seems my lot in life is to be the first loser.
***
In another one of my now too common "What the hell? How will I know if I can do it unless I try?" moments, I decided to enter today's Capitol City marathon in Olympia, WA. I have done several two hours runs recently, and feel I am in pretty good half-marathon shape, but then, when isn't more better? So I signed up for the marathon instead.
I woke up this morning at 6:41; the alarm hadn't gone off. The drive to the start was about 20 minutes away - not good at all, considering the marathon started at seven. I was instantly wide awake and in a panic with my heart racing. Fortunately, the whole thing was just an anxiety dream, it was really only 3:30. But with all the adrenaline coursing through my veins at that point, I didn't sleep another wink until I finally got out of bed at 5:15.
At seven we were off - this time a cannon boom heralded our start. My plan was to go nice and easy - the whole thing was just a stepping stone on my way to Portland, where I am hoping to have a great race. In fact, I put 3:50 as my predicted finish time - just under nine minute mile pace and something I would consider a good solid workout and nothing more.
About two-thirds of a mile in I passed a lady who's shirt said, "We love you Grandma Lee" with a picture of cute Asian kids beneath the text. Most of the others around me seemed to be guys pushing 60. "Ah, running with the grandmas and the grey-hairs," I thought, "certainly this must be a nice easy pace." My first split was 7:41. "Oh [crap], that is way too fast." When I first started road racing after college, I seemed to have a problem with going out too fast - not a good strategy for endurance races. Before my running hiatus (kids), I had gotten pretty good at avoiding this, but it seems like I am starting from square one again. I decided to slow it down a lot for the next mile; my split was 7:44 -aaargh!
Right about the time I was coming up on mile mark two, there was the pounding of quick footsteps as I thought someone was making a pass, but this guy (Bob) fell in step and ran along side me. "I have been about 8 steps behind you for the last mile, so I thought I'd catch up so I'd have someone to run with." That sounded good to me, and we ran together for the next 15 miles, chatting it up every now and then.
At mile 4 a woman up ahead went crashing into the bushes, presumably haven given up on finding a port-a-potty on the course. I kept expecting her to come roaring back, but I never saw her again. By mile six the volunteer informed me that I was running in second for the women's race. Huh - that was completely unexpected! I still wasn't expecting much out of this race, so I kind of just gave a shrug-my-shoulders acknowledgment, as in "whatever, that won't hold up."
Running with Bob was a bit of a mixed blessing. I really enjoyed his company, he was great to talk to and he made the miles go by a lot faster. But he was in good shape, meaning he had actually been training for a marathon (imagine that!) - for a full year no less! - and was ready to have a good day. Because I liked having the company I kind of got caught up in his pace instead of running my own race. And that pace was getting faster - we strung a couple of 7:30's together between miles 6 and 10 and even threw down a 7:28 at one point. Not the direction I wanted to go!
By mile 16 I was feeling it, and slipping. It didn't help that it was now over 70 degrees. We lost 4 seconds. I slowed down another 4 seconds in the next mile. Right after we passed mile 17, Bob kept going, while I kept slowing, but I was still running in second.
Bob's wife was also in the field and also a speedy runner; the two of them had done a lot of research about the course (Bob could always tell me exactly when the next hill was coming or how long we were going to have a downhill stretch). When I expressed my surprise at my position in the field, he had told me that 3:30 was usually good enough for top 3. So at that point, I started thinking damage control: how could I stay under 3:30 and at least place? The only thing I could come up with was just keep running, even if it is very slowly; re-evaluate how you are doing when you get passed.
I hit mile 18 and a volunteer let out a big whoop - "First woman!" That became contagious and the small crowd all started cheering for me, the "first woman." I hadn't passed anybody, so what happened? Did she drop out? Right at the end of the crowd, somebody was finally paying attention. Right as I passed I heard her yell, "that's not right but you are doing great."
In the 18th mile we were back into the neighborhoods and onto the roads shared by the half-marathon course and I started passing all of the half marathon walkers. Many of the houses had small little crowds out to watch the race. For the next four miles, I was alternately told I was first woman or second woman. I knew, though, that I was running second. I mentally joked that the woman ahead of me must be very butch, and therefore not always recognizable as a woman.
Miles 20-24 were painful. I hit the proverbial wall and this wasn't any ordinary wall - this was a wall with barbed wire and and spikes coming out at every angle. These all fell just barely under nine minute pace, which was my initial goal for the whole race, but at this point I was pretty disheartened by it and the slower pace didn't seem to make it any easier to run. in fact, I walked through the mile 24 aid station. I prolonged the rest by taking two glasses, but when they were gone I started running again, intent to keep going till the finish. Mile 25 came and I set my last split - ten more minutes I told myself. And then we passed 19th street. In my mind I only had to make it to third. I started counting down: 19th, 18th, 17th, aaaah! - Maple Crest? what the Hell is that doing here? Finally 16th. On down to 14th and then Union? What the %$#@ is wrong with these people? Don't they know how to number their streets? But then I could see the finish and I no longer cared that 13th was actually two blocks away from 14th. It helped that the finish was also on 7th and not third as I had expected. I crossed in 3:27:44 - second in the women's race (32 of 315 overall).
At the finish a lady handed me a card - "2nd W"- and told me I could redeem if for a top 20 T-shirt. It turned out this was an awesome turquoise running shirt with the marathon logo on the front, quite easily the best thing - schwag or prize - that I have ever gotten from a race. I put the shirt on and limped over to the free massage area, which was heavenly and left me limping a little bit less.
Afterwards Bob came up and I am sure meant to be congratulatory, but it felt like he was taking a cheap pot shot: "Good job. You managed to hold on to second place!" Managed, as in "Boy you were really flailing big time, I can't believe nobody passed you!"
The woman's winner finished in 3:05, twenty-two minutes ahead of me. She had a thick blond pony tail and wasn't at all masculine, as I had joked. It seems she was just so far ahead of me, that she no longer registered in people's short term memory by the time I passed by. Or more likely, she was so far up in the half-marathon pack that people mistook her for a half-marathon runner. Bob kept up a great pace after he shed his extra baggage (me), and finished in 3:19, averaging 7:36 miles. He was a little upset to miss the Boston cutoff (3:15), but I know he'll be there soon with little additional effort. His wife was seventh in the women's race. Her 3:34 was good enough to qualify for Boston.
So to date my marathon history is as follows:
1) Washington Birthday Marathon, Feb. 1999 - My first marathon. My only goal was to finish. I was woefully under-trained (longest run = 10 miles) but I was too ignorant to even know it at the time. The course was three loops on deserted rural roads on a sunny but very chilly day. The puddles were all frozen at the start; it hit 36 degrees by the time I finished. Besides the aid stations there was nobody on the course. I had no idea where I was running and I didn't care. I finished in 3:13:53 - still my best marathon time (hoping to break it in Portland!). The time would have handily won that race pretty much every year since, but that year it was only good enough for second place.
2) Sacramento Marathon, Oct. 2000 - I had been training hard for Portland, but we got invited to a Napa wedding, so instead I opted to do the Sacramento Marathon, which was on the same day as Portland. I led the race for 22 miles but totally bonked in the 80 plus degree heat ( I am sure it didn't help I spent the day before outside at a wedding on a day so hot, a bridesmaid fainted). I got passed in the last four miles and finished second, in 3:22.
3) Valentine's Marathon, Feb. 2001 - My friend wanted to do Boston in 2002, and I thought I needed a qualifying time (turns out the Sacramento Marathon was actually in the 18 month window so I ended up using that time). Again, I had don't much long running, but was in good shape for the short stuff. I led for 20 miles but really wasn't up to the distance, so I ran/walked the last six miles as slow as I could and still be under 3:40. The eventual winner actually stopped when she passed me walking because she was certain something was wrong. Nope just not ready to go more than 20 miles I assured her. I finished second.
4)Boston Marathon, April 2002 - This one doesn't really count with the rest as it is a marathon of international acclaim and not just a community marathon. I trained really well for this one and even did a five hour race for "training," running six miles more than a marathon (ironically, this is the one event that I have ever won). I thought for sure I'd set a new PR, but I just started slowed down a little too much at heartbreak hill and never picked it up again. I finished in 3:15:53 (267th female out of 5,251; 3452/14400 overall)
5)Capitol City Marathon, May 2008 - you already know how that turned out: Second place.
So you see, I am well established as the first loser!
Side Note: Really I don't care about winning one of these (no really!). I know my place is all based on who shows up for the race as there are MANY women out there who are faster than me, and always will be. And unless you win one of the BIG races, the prizes aren't that great. I will, however, be very disappointed if I never break that 3:13:56. Running really comes down to being competitive with yourself; no one wants to think their first effort was their best and that they never improved after that. I hoping that I will be at that point for this year's Portland Marathon (October).
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Coach, Train Thyself
We've all heard the phrase,"Doctor, heal thyself", a gentle admonishment to physicians to practice what they preach. It might be good advice, but I have an M.D. after my name, too, so why do I need some family practice doc to tell if I am doing alright?! In other words, I don't think there is any reason for scheduling my "annual" check-up any more frequently than my current five year intervals.
On a different topic, any good coach will tell you to work up to a major goal gradually and to make sure you are ready for any major athletic undertaking. I am currently JD's consultant coach for his marathon training and I wouldn't tell him anything different. In fact, I did tell him 16 weeks is not enough, he should start running now to ensure readiness. After January's 10K Get Fit Quickly scheme, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I decided to ignore this advice.
Though I have been pretty diligent about running since the year started, doing five days a week most weeks, my mileage has been quite low. I usually do one 6 mile run a week, that is, if the weather is nice, and everything else is about four miles. A lot of these four mile sessions include some sort of interval work, mostly just because I get bored running the same speed on the treadmill. I did one 7.5 mile run, but that was back in February. So naturally, a 20 mile race seemed like a good idea (actually only a mere 19.5 miles). And, oh yeah, it was going to be on trails, which is something that seems to be lacking in Salem, so I haven't done any trail running. I was feeling a little scared about my preparations, so Monday I ran the nine miles home from work. I managed nine minute mile pace pretty easily, so thought, "How bad could things go? I could walk the last ten miles if I had to."
Hoping NOT to walk much though, I had a goal sequence for myself: Tops on the list: nine minute mile pace or 2 hours, 55 minutes. Barring that, I wanted to break 3 hours. And then between those was the time of 2:58, which based on last year's times, would be good enough for a top ten finish. And then the very scared (and reasonable) part of me was thinking,"It'd be good to just finish."
I spent the latter half of this week with laryngitis and then the Sisters fire department decided to control burn all of the underbrush this weekend, making the air thick with smoke, but neither of those things really seemed to factor in until after the race was over, when I my lungs felt like it was a smog alert day in Southern California, so I'll skip to my Peterson Ridge Rumble race report:
There was no gun. Just a guy with a bull horn, saying "Ten seconds...three, two, one, GO!" And we all set off. The fast people headed to the front, the slow people crowded in the back, and I found myself in no-man's land, running somewhere in the middle. A little over a mile into the race, a bearded guy with grey hair and a bright orange shirt came up from behind along with his younger running partner. They caught up to a pack of ten or so guys about five yards ahead. I figured it'd be nice to be with a group, and so I caught up and leeched on to the back of the pack. I didn't think the pace changed much at all over the next two miles but slowly the pack dropped off until it was just me, the grey haired guy and his friend. We shared our city of origins at that point (they were from Corvallis), but not our names. As we turned off the dirt road on to the trail, the pair asked me if I wanted to pass. No, I told them, I was very happy behind them. Frankly, I was a bit nervous to be with them at all since they made such quick work of our pack. What pace were we running anyway?
I came out of the first aid station at 40 minutes. Many good runners write the splits they are aiming for on their race number or their arm. While I had calculated out 9-minute mile splits, I thought it'd be a bit pretentious to write them on myself and so I was a bit foggy as to what this split was supposed to be. In my mind it seemed like we were quite a bit ahead of pace.
I left the aid station right behind the Corvallis duo and let them pace up the hilly section to the top at aid station 2. The pair refueled faster than I, but I saw the orange shirted guy signaling me to join them as they were leaving, so I tossed back my water and grabbed a couple of animal crackers for the trail. "Thanks for letting me run with you." I said to them. "No, problem," my companion answered back, "besides we are going to need you to pace us on the way back, I can tell." As he said this my legs felt springy and light. Internally, I joked to myself,"No wonder my morning four miles seem so hard - it takes me eight miles to warm up!" I took the lead for our trio, as we started our 3.4 mile loop around the top of the hill on our way back to the previous aid station (now re-named aid station 3). When the trail went to single track, I was feeling good. I passed three guys; I chatted it up a bit with my new bud, Theo (his friend was falling behind at this point). And then even Theo wasn't hanging with me anymore. I passed two more guys before finishing the loop.
At this point, I gulped down a salt tablet and was immensely amused by this. While most Americans are getting something like five times the recommended dose of sodium from their diets, here I was ingesting salt in pill form. And this wasn't a small pill like I had imagined (sodium and potassium are measured in milligrams after all), this was an electrolyte horse pill. In my mind I jested: "Hey, Tiger, I might not have Gatorade specially formulated for me, but I need extra electrolytes, too!"
With the salt in my belly, I headed out and immediately passed a guy. Then on the downhill, I caught up with a guy and a gal running together. The guy asked if I wanted to pass, but I was ready to have someone else in the lead, so I hung back. A minute or two later he veered off the trail, presumably to the call of nature. The gal immediately picked it up, I figured she didn't like me on her tail. I thought she needn't worry - I was starting to feel tired and her stride looked a lot springier than mine felt at that point. Plus I figured if she paced me to the finish in strong time (for I knew we were ahead of my 2:55 goal), I would gladly let her finish ahead of me. We caught up to another woman about a quarter mile before the next aid station. I recognized her grey singlet with florescent pink piping as someone who had started in the fast pack at the beginning. We ran in line to the aid station - 2:12 - a good deal ahead of schedule, but man, my quads were getting tight fast.
I wolfed down a few candies and gulped a water. The two ladies were still munching when I took off. Less than a mile later we were back on the dirt road; I had passed one more guy. The road was hot and boring. Several wilting people were ahead of me. I passed four more guys as they took walk breaks, but I was slowing down fast. We crossed a road and I knew I was 20 minutes away, at least that is how long it took me to get there from the starting line. I ran six minutes, my thighs burned. Two more I told myself, then you can walk a bit. But with 12 minutes of running left, I thought I should get to the ten minute mark before I walked. At that point, I thought I should just slow down my pace for a few minutes before I needed to walk. It was all mind games, but it was working. A tiny downhill got my legs going a bit faster - keep it going for one more minute. Then let's try a couple more slow jog minutes. One of the wakers had started running again and he passed me back - the only person to pass me the entire race - Run with him for a minute. Ok, two more slow jog minutes. And, then I saw a fence and a building - CIVILIZATION! - you can go a few more minutes, you are almost there. Now you are crossing to the school, can't stop now, people are watching. At that point, there was nothing to do but keep running to the finish.
It took me twenty-seven minutes to get to the finish from the road, but that is because I hadn't considered that the finish was about a half mile past the starting line (with an evil lap around the track at the end). I didn't walk and so probably only lost a couple of minutes. I crossed the line in 2:47:22, ahead of all of my goals (8:35 pace!) and good enough for sixth place. The guy who passed me finished just ahead of me (Joe M.). Springy-legs Girl was seventh in the women's race. Theo finished in 2:50 and change.
After the race with my lime green finisher's socks (no, seriously - they are quite nice and much more practical than a useless finisher's medal) and the Montrail hat I won in the raffle.
Who needs good advice and good training? And don't expect me to make a doctor's appointment anytime soon either!
On a different topic, any good coach will tell you to work up to a major goal gradually and to make sure you are ready for any major athletic undertaking. I am currently JD's consultant coach for his marathon training and I wouldn't tell him anything different. In fact, I did tell him 16 weeks is not enough, he should start running now to ensure readiness. After January's 10K Get Fit Quickly scheme, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I decided to ignore this advice.
Though I have been pretty diligent about running since the year started, doing five days a week most weeks, my mileage has been quite low. I usually do one 6 mile run a week, that is, if the weather is nice, and everything else is about four miles. A lot of these four mile sessions include some sort of interval work, mostly just because I get bored running the same speed on the treadmill. I did one 7.5 mile run, but that was back in February. So naturally, a 20 mile race seemed like a good idea (actually only a mere 19.5 miles). And, oh yeah, it was going to be on trails, which is something that seems to be lacking in Salem, so I haven't done any trail running. I was feeling a little scared about my preparations, so Monday I ran the nine miles home from work. I managed nine minute mile pace pretty easily, so thought, "How bad could things go? I could walk the last ten miles if I had to."
Hoping NOT to walk much though, I had a goal sequence for myself: Tops on the list: nine minute mile pace or 2 hours, 55 minutes. Barring that, I wanted to break 3 hours. And then between those was the time of 2:58, which based on last year's times, would be good enough for a top ten finish. And then the very scared (and reasonable) part of me was thinking,"It'd be good to just finish."
I spent the latter half of this week with laryngitis and then the Sisters fire department decided to control burn all of the underbrush this weekend, making the air thick with smoke, but neither of those things really seemed to factor in until after the race was over, when I my lungs felt like it was a smog alert day in Southern California, so I'll skip to my Peterson Ridge Rumble race report:
There was no gun. Just a guy with a bull horn, saying "Ten seconds...three, two, one, GO!" And we all set off. The fast people headed to the front, the slow people crowded in the back, and I found myself in no-man's land, running somewhere in the middle. A little over a mile into the race, a bearded guy with grey hair and a bright orange shirt came up from behind along with his younger running partner. They caught up to a pack of ten or so guys about five yards ahead. I figured it'd be nice to be with a group, and so I caught up and leeched on to the back of the pack. I didn't think the pace changed much at all over the next two miles but slowly the pack dropped off until it was just me, the grey haired guy and his friend. We shared our city of origins at that point (they were from Corvallis), but not our names. As we turned off the dirt road on to the trail, the pair asked me if I wanted to pass. No, I told them, I was very happy behind them. Frankly, I was a bit nervous to be with them at all since they made such quick work of our pack. What pace were we running anyway?
I came out of the first aid station at 40 minutes. Many good runners write the splits they are aiming for on their race number or their arm. While I had calculated out 9-minute mile splits, I thought it'd be a bit pretentious to write them on myself and so I was a bit foggy as to what this split was supposed to be. In my mind it seemed like we were quite a bit ahead of pace.
I left the aid station right behind the Corvallis duo and let them pace up the hilly section to the top at aid station 2. The pair refueled faster than I, but I saw the orange shirted guy signaling me to join them as they were leaving, so I tossed back my water and grabbed a couple of animal crackers for the trail. "Thanks for letting me run with you." I said to them. "No, problem," my companion answered back, "besides we are going to need you to pace us on the way back, I can tell." As he said this my legs felt springy and light. Internally, I joked to myself,"No wonder my morning four miles seem so hard - it takes me eight miles to warm up!" I took the lead for our trio, as we started our 3.4 mile loop around the top of the hill on our way back to the previous aid station (now re-named aid station 3). When the trail went to single track, I was feeling good. I passed three guys; I chatted it up a bit with my new bud, Theo (his friend was falling behind at this point). And then even Theo wasn't hanging with me anymore. I passed two more guys before finishing the loop.
At this point, I gulped down a salt tablet and was immensely amused by this. While most Americans are getting something like five times the recommended dose of sodium from their diets, here I was ingesting salt in pill form. And this wasn't a small pill like I had imagined (sodium and potassium are measured in milligrams after all), this was an electrolyte horse pill. In my mind I jested: "Hey, Tiger, I might not have Gatorade specially formulated for me, but I need extra electrolytes, too!"
With the salt in my belly, I headed out and immediately passed a guy. Then on the downhill, I caught up with a guy and a gal running together. The guy asked if I wanted to pass, but I was ready to have someone else in the lead, so I hung back. A minute or two later he veered off the trail, presumably to the call of nature. The gal immediately picked it up, I figured she didn't like me on her tail. I thought she needn't worry - I was starting to feel tired and her stride looked a lot springier than mine felt at that point. Plus I figured if she paced me to the finish in strong time (for I knew we were ahead of my 2:55 goal), I would gladly let her finish ahead of me. We caught up to another woman about a quarter mile before the next aid station. I recognized her grey singlet with florescent pink piping as someone who had started in the fast pack at the beginning. We ran in line to the aid station - 2:12 - a good deal ahead of schedule, but man, my quads were getting tight fast.
I wolfed down a few candies and gulped a water. The two ladies were still munching when I took off. Less than a mile later we were back on the dirt road; I had passed one more guy. The road was hot and boring. Several wilting people were ahead of me. I passed four more guys as they took walk breaks, but I was slowing down fast. We crossed a road and I knew I was 20 minutes away, at least that is how long it took me to get there from the starting line. I ran six minutes, my thighs burned. Two more I told myself, then you can walk a bit. But with 12 minutes of running left, I thought I should get to the ten minute mark before I walked. At that point, I thought I should just slow down my pace for a few minutes before I needed to walk. It was all mind games, but it was working. A tiny downhill got my legs going a bit faster - keep it going for one more minute. Then let's try a couple more slow jog minutes. One of the wakers had started running again and he passed me back - the only person to pass me the entire race - Run with him for a minute. Ok, two more slow jog minutes. And, then I saw a fence and a building - CIVILIZATION! - you can go a few more minutes, you are almost there. Now you are crossing to the school, can't stop now, people are watching. At that point, there was nothing to do but keep running to the finish.
It took me twenty-seven minutes to get to the finish from the road, but that is because I hadn't considered that the finish was about a half mile past the starting line (with an evil lap around the track at the end). I didn't walk and so probably only lost a couple of minutes. I crossed the line in 2:47:22, ahead of all of my goals (8:35 pace!) and good enough for sixth place. The guy who passed me finished just ahead of me (Joe M.). Springy-legs Girl was seventh in the women's race. Theo finished in 2:50 and change.
After the race with my lime green finisher's socks (no, seriously - they are quite nice and much more practical than a useless finisher's medal) and the Montrail hat I won in the raffle.
Who needs good advice and good training? And don't expect me to make a doctor's appointment anytime soon either!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Get Fit Quickly
Mac is preaching (and practicing!) the get fit slowly point of view. It is a very sensible plan, one the doctor in me whole-heartedly supports,but one the rest of me has a big problem with. I am more of an all or nothing kind of person, and so I am trying to get on the fast track to fitness.
I have been whining to Mac recently about being out of shape, needing to run, blah, blah, blah. But New year's came and went without serving as an inspiration to get moving. But two recent conversations with friends served as the push that I needed.
First, my good friend Debbie told me she was planning to do the Honolulu marathon this year (Dec. '08). Debbie had her son five months after I had mine, so it seemed like I should be able to get back in to shape five months before her.
And then, I tried to convince another friend to do the Portland marathon. I figured if he committed to it, it would become a priority and he would do it and feel good about it. It all sounded like good advice, so I decided to heed it.
And so on Tuesday, I ran two miles. And then Saturday I ran three. And since I was running again, I thought I might as well do a 10K today and so I did.
It is probably not advisable to run a race when all of your total training mileage put together is less than the actual race distance (6.25 miles), and so it should come as no surprise that I ran my slowest time ever, by a long shot. My unofficial time of 55:30 is a time that I hope to be able to run when I am 55. But I ran the whole thing. The last mile was very painful, as all last miles are. Afterward, I was tired and quite sore - sore enough to curse our two-story house and its thigh-searing staircase- but I also felt great. I had that exhausted exhilaration that I remember so well, the runner's high, one could say.
This has helped motivate me to get running again and I hope I stay motivated. Especially, since at this accelerated training pace, I should be ready to run the Vancouver (WA) half marathon in two weeks. ;)
I have been whining to Mac recently about being out of shape, needing to run, blah, blah, blah. But New year's came and went without serving as an inspiration to get moving. But two recent conversations with friends served as the push that I needed.
First, my good friend Debbie told me she was planning to do the Honolulu marathon this year (Dec. '08). Debbie had her son five months after I had mine, so it seemed like I should be able to get back in to shape five months before her.
And then, I tried to convince another friend to do the Portland marathon. I figured if he committed to it, it would become a priority and he would do it and feel good about it. It all sounded like good advice, so I decided to heed it.
And so on Tuesday, I ran two miles. And then Saturday I ran three. And since I was running again, I thought I might as well do a 10K today and so I did.
It is probably not advisable to run a race when all of your total training mileage put together is less than the actual race distance (6.25 miles), and so it should come as no surprise that I ran my slowest time ever, by a long shot. My unofficial time of 55:30 is a time that I hope to be able to run when I am 55. But I ran the whole thing. The last mile was very painful, as all last miles are. Afterward, I was tired and quite sore - sore enough to curse our two-story house and its thigh-searing staircase- but I also felt great. I had that exhausted exhilaration that I remember so well, the runner's high, one could say.
This has helped motivate me to get running again and I hope I stay motivated. Especially, since at this accelerated training pace, I should be ready to run the Vancouver (WA) half marathon in two weeks. ;)
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