Each evening at work, I overhear coworkers chatting with spouses and kids on the phone, planning dinner, asking about days and just checking in.
Each day at work, P and I e-mail, gchat or text about our dinner plans, days and other non-events.
Is my generation more private, more impervious to having cubicle-mates overhear private conversations? Or are we less direct, more apt to type than talk? Maybe we just embrace the convenience of not having to turn from our computers to communicate. Maybe we're just used to communicating this way.
Will workplaces become more silent as my generation ages? I find that my fellow young coworkers IM me questions and comments from 10 feet away instead of turning around and vocalizing them. Granted, sometimes these are comments not fit for everyone's ears, but usually they are things like, "Did you respond to so-and-so's email?"
I'm not sure whether to embrace this quiet, Internet-infused, generational divide. What does it say about us? How will it impact our future?
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
In need of pants that fit
Yesterday morning as I looked at my sagging, belt loop-less pants that wouldn't stay up, safety pinning them seemed a brilliant idea.
Later in the day, as I walked into the bathroom, I realized the downfall of the idea.
I should probably invest in a seamstress or just some new pants that aren't 2 sizes to big.
Later in the day, as I walked into the bathroom, I realized the downfall of the idea.
I should probably invest in a seamstress or just some new pants that aren't 2 sizes to big.
Monday, October 26, 2009
New race, new plan
I have been slaving over my indoor 1/2 marathon training plan for the past few days. It's been fun to create my own plan to help me meet my goals.
It is still up in the air whether I will run a full half (but I rully rully want to) or just 10 miles. Either way, the plan is still a work in progress (going to tweak/add speed workouts and do some more tweaking of the overall mileage), but here it is so far.
Main goals: focus on speedwork, don't skip workouts, beat my PR of 1:58:56.
It is still up in the air whether I will run a full half (but I rully rully want to) or just 10 miles. Either way, the plan is still a work in progress (going to tweak/add speed workouts and do some more tweaking of the overall mileage), but here it is so far.
Main goals: focus on speedwork, don't skip workouts, beat my PR of 1:58:56.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Next endeavor
My IT band has been really acting up the past few days.
But. I am so pumped for my next running endeavor! Indoor marathon. Yes. 95ish laps around an Olympic speed skating rink.
Except I am going to do the relay. Most likely with Jess. We will each run half and it will be a blast!
But. I am so pumped for my next running endeavor! Indoor marathon. Yes. 95ish laps around an Olympic speed skating rink.
Except I am going to do the relay. Most likely with Jess. We will each run half and it will be a blast!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Lesson from sore muscles
I'm learning what it's like to take it slow.
I'm a constant speedwalker. I walk as fast as possible wherever I go. I am always in a hurry.
My legs are too sore for that now. Now I know what it's like to be a leisurely walker.
Frankly, I'm not a big fan. But I'm sure it's good for me to slow down every now and then.
I'm a constant speedwalker. I walk as fast as possible wherever I go. I am always in a hurry.
My legs are too sore for that now. Now I know what it's like to be a leisurely walker.
Frankly, I'm not a big fan. But I'm sure it's good for me to slow down every now and then.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The Finish Line
Chicago Marathon. Today I did it.
First, let me transcribe my written thoughts from last night:
Saturday, Oct. 10, 2009 10:36 p.m.
I am lying in bed at Katie's condo, about to go to sleep. When I wake up I will pull on my pre-planned clothes, eat the same breakfast I do every morning – 2 pieces whole wheat toast with peanut butter and cranberry honey – and run 26.2 miles.
In a lot of ways this past week has felt like the week before my wedding. I've been planning for tomorrow for months. I've gotten everything in place. I've preserved my body this week, freaking out about every sniffle and cough. People ask me if I'm ready and I'm not really sure what "ready" feels like because I've never done this before. I'm excited, and strangely not nervous. And I feel like tomorrow will somehow change me.
In this case, I'll be proving to myself that I can set my mind on a goal and discipline my body to achieve it. I can put myself through the most physical pain I've ever experienced and still push through and survive. This will be a massive physical test, but possibly an even bigger mental test.
I don't know what to expect. I am going to try to stay with the 4:30 pace group. Part of me thinks it will be a mental battle to stay with them, but it will be possible. Part of me is not sure I physically can do it. I will certainly give it my all though. That is my #1 GOAL: GIVE IT MY ALL!
***
The race is over. And I am so incredibly happy and proud to say I obliterated my goal of 4:30 and finished in 4:16:11.
The morning was cool but not unbearable. Peter walked with me to the starting line and left me with a kiss to push through the crowded corral. I spotted the 10-minute pace marker and planted myself near a couple dressed as bananas. The back of the wife's costume said, "Banana finishes Chicago Marathon. Nobel peace prize?"
The body heat of 45,000 runners packed into the corrals kept me warm as I waited for the 7:30 start. As soon as the gun went off, clothing went flying. People threw their warm "throwaway" clothes from the center of the crowd to the perimeters. It rained sweatshirts. The first few miles were littered with gloves, shirts and ear warmers.
I crossed the starting line 10 minutes after the gun and was overwhelmed by the number of spectators and the excitement of embarking on this journey. I just kept looking around, taking in every sight and sound. I couldn't believe it was happening right now.
I sincerely wish I could personally thank every spectator who was on the sidelines of the race, even the guy holding the kU banner (which I booed, jokingly, as I ran by). Their enthusiasm propelled me through. The high fives were the BEST. I felt like I gained actual energy from each one. I had written my name on a piece of masking tape and taped it to my long sleeve shirt I wore over my St. Jude's shirt. I nearly choked up when I heard spectators cheering for me by name as I raced past them. It was an incredible feeling of gratitude and encouragement.
I kept telling myself to slow down during the first 10 miles or so. My GPS wasn't working properly, so I could only pace myself by taking mile splits. Almost every single one was between 9:44 and 9:46, no matter how consciously I tried to slow it down to 10:00. I didn't want to burn out, and since I viewed a 10:18 pace as ambitious this seemed even more ambitious. But it felt so good. My legs felt relaxed and happy at that pace. It didn't feel like work at all. So I stuck with it. I am so glad I did.
The first half of the race flew by. I had a blast high fiving little kids, enjoying Elvis singing on stage, reading all the funny and encouraging posters people held up on the sidelines, jamming to music at aid stations and soaking in the experience. I reached the 13.1 mile mark in roughly 2:07. I was on pace for a 4:15 finish, and that became my new target.
After the halfway point, crowd support thinned for a few miles. I kept my eyes peeled for my family's Nemo balloon but never saw it. The miles seemed to drag by slightly slower, but my pace stayed steady. I tried not to think about how many miles were left, and instead focused on how many I had already run and how great I felt.
Coming into Chinatown, with its mob of supporters after mile 21, I felt like I was struggling for the first time. I convinced myself that I felt awesome and was taken by surprise when I spotted the fam. As planned, my dad ripped off his jacket and entered the course to run with me for the last 5/6 miles. I was happy to have the support and companionship, but I wasn't feeling as chipper as I was earlier. This was the point where I hit my irritable mark – when you've been running so long that you start to get annoyed by absolutely everything around you. And this time, it was my dad.
I could not stand the fact that he was running just slightly ahead of me. I felt like he had cheated, jumping into the race at this point, and it wasn't fair that he was ahead. It made me feel slow, like I had to struggle to keep up. After mile 22, it was a struggle to just maintain my pace and keep moving, so I was in no mood to mentally try to keep up with my father, who had only run 1 - 2 miles at this point. I couldn't stand his loud, bizarre breathing. Again, he'd only been running a few miles – how could it be that big of a struggle relative to the rest of us who had run 23 miles? I couldn't stand his enthusiasm, cheering and dancing when we ran through music while the rest of us struggled to put one foot in front of the other. I was ready to punch him.
Of course none of this was necessarily his fault. I was just irritable and it really didn't matter what he did. Looking back, I do think it was wrong that he jumped in. He ended up crossing the finish line because there were fences up. That bothers me because he didn't do the work to get to the point. It was like cheating – enjoying the glory but not the pain.
But before we talk about the finish, let me just say: the last 2 miles were entirely brutal. I was reduced to chanting in my head "15 minutes left. 15 minutes left," and "I can do it. I can do it," just to keep myself going. I thought about the St. Jude kids whose battles are much longer than 26.2 miles or the 15/14/13/etc. minutes until I crossed the finish line. I thought about my pact to give it my all and not hold back. The 26th mile marker was at the top of a not-entirely-large-but-incredibly-difficult-and-disheartening hill. I felt like I was barely moving as I struggled up it. But at the top, the finish line came into view, down a slight incline.
I was very thankful to have Dad behind me yelling encouragement as I sprinted to the finish. As wrong as I now feel it was for him to run to the finish, I must say my post-race experience was much more pleasant with my dad by my side than it would have been had I been alone, waiting for 20 minutes in the St. Jude tent before the rest of the fam arrived.
I threw my arms in the air as I sprinted across the finish line. I couldn't believe I was done. Immediately I became aware of how much my legs hurt. I hobbled over to grab a heat sheet and then some Gatorade. I took as much food as Dad and I could carry from the runner refreshment area. And despite my stiff legs, I felt awesome! I grabbed a 312 beer and enjoyed it greatly.
The St. Jude tent was lovely. I finally met Kristine, the woman behind the St. Jude marathon experience. They provided food, drink and more beer (eventually I had a Blue Moon – after my barf-a-thon half marathon experience in August who woulda thought I'd be imbibing after 26.2?). I got my first massage, which was more like stretching and loosening up my muscles. It felt amazing and I could go for another right now. Mom, Peter, Lauren, Kevin, Nanie and Pops eventually made it to the tent. Good times '09.
My statz:
5K - 30:25 (30:25) - (5)
10K - 1:00:27 (30:02) - (2)
15K - 1:30:42 (30:15) - (4)
20K - 2:00:47 (30:05) - (3)
HALF - 2:07:22
25K - 2:30:35 (29:48) - (1)*
30K - 3:01:07 (30:32) - (6)
35K - 3:31:40 (30:33) - (7)
40K - 4:02:48 (31:08) - (8)
FINISH - 4:16:11
*My fastest 5K split was in the start of the second half - awesome!
Things I saw:
-Guy in bear costume with sign, "Run faster. A bear is chasing you!"
-Indian (native american) man with one leg. Beating me.
-Guy running in black suit, dressed as one of the Blues Brothers.
-Sign: "Your feet hurt because you're kicking ass."
-Elvis!
-Sign: "You're all Kenyans to me."
-Shirtless dude (it was freezing out for spectators) screaming and cheering.
-Guy: "It's not cold enough for you! You're all animals!"
-Another banana runner.
-Superwoman runner.
-People holding pieces of cardboard with Vasoline smeared on it for runners to use.
-Back of girl's shirt (roughly): "My boyfriend would be running with me but he's serving in Iraq. Run for the 32nd battalion thingie, etc."
-Group of guy runners with thick Boston accents shouting for donations for injured soldiers.
-In Pilsen, signs: "Sí, se puede!"
First, let me transcribe my written thoughts from last night:
Saturday, Oct. 10, 2009 10:36 p.m.
I am lying in bed at Katie's condo, about to go to sleep. When I wake up I will pull on my pre-planned clothes, eat the same breakfast I do every morning – 2 pieces whole wheat toast with peanut butter and cranberry honey – and run 26.2 miles.
In a lot of ways this past week has felt like the week before my wedding. I've been planning for tomorrow for months. I've gotten everything in place. I've preserved my body this week, freaking out about every sniffle and cough. People ask me if I'm ready and I'm not really sure what "ready" feels like because I've never done this before. I'm excited, and strangely not nervous. And I feel like tomorrow will somehow change me.
In this case, I'll be proving to myself that I can set my mind on a goal and discipline my body to achieve it. I can put myself through the most physical pain I've ever experienced and still push through and survive. This will be a massive physical test, but possibly an even bigger mental test.
I don't know what to expect. I am going to try to stay with the 4:30 pace group. Part of me thinks it will be a mental battle to stay with them, but it will be possible. Part of me is not sure I physically can do it. I will certainly give it my all though. That is my #1 GOAL: GIVE IT MY ALL!
***
The race is over. And I am so incredibly happy and proud to say I obliterated my goal of 4:30 and finished in 4:16:11.
The morning was cool but not unbearable. Peter walked with me to the starting line and left me with a kiss to push through the crowded corral. I spotted the 10-minute pace marker and planted myself near a couple dressed as bananas. The back of the wife's costume said, "Banana finishes Chicago Marathon. Nobel peace prize?"
The body heat of 45,000 runners packed into the corrals kept me warm as I waited for the 7:30 start. As soon as the gun went off, clothing went flying. People threw their warm "throwaway" clothes from the center of the crowd to the perimeters. It rained sweatshirts. The first few miles were littered with gloves, shirts and ear warmers.
I crossed the starting line 10 minutes after the gun and was overwhelmed by the number of spectators and the excitement of embarking on this journey. I just kept looking around, taking in every sight and sound. I couldn't believe it was happening right now.
I sincerely wish I could personally thank every spectator who was on the sidelines of the race, even the guy holding the kU banner (which I booed, jokingly, as I ran by). Their enthusiasm propelled me through. The high fives were the BEST. I felt like I gained actual energy from each one. I had written my name on a piece of masking tape and taped it to my long sleeve shirt I wore over my St. Jude's shirt. I nearly choked up when I heard spectators cheering for me by name as I raced past them. It was an incredible feeling of gratitude and encouragement.
I kept telling myself to slow down during the first 10 miles or so. My GPS wasn't working properly, so I could only pace myself by taking mile splits. Almost every single one was between 9:44 and 9:46, no matter how consciously I tried to slow it down to 10:00. I didn't want to burn out, and since I viewed a 10:18 pace as ambitious this seemed even more ambitious. But it felt so good. My legs felt relaxed and happy at that pace. It didn't feel like work at all. So I stuck with it. I am so glad I did.
The first half of the race flew by. I had a blast high fiving little kids, enjoying Elvis singing on stage, reading all the funny and encouraging posters people held up on the sidelines, jamming to music at aid stations and soaking in the experience. I reached the 13.1 mile mark in roughly 2:07. I was on pace for a 4:15 finish, and that became my new target.
After the halfway point, crowd support thinned for a few miles. I kept my eyes peeled for my family's Nemo balloon but never saw it. The miles seemed to drag by slightly slower, but my pace stayed steady. I tried not to think about how many miles were left, and instead focused on how many I had already run and how great I felt.
Coming into Chinatown, with its mob of supporters after mile 21, I felt like I was struggling for the first time. I convinced myself that I felt awesome and was taken by surprise when I spotted the fam. As planned, my dad ripped off his jacket and entered the course to run with me for the last 5/6 miles. I was happy to have the support and companionship, but I wasn't feeling as chipper as I was earlier. This was the point where I hit my irritable mark – when you've been running so long that you start to get annoyed by absolutely everything around you. And this time, it was my dad.
I could not stand the fact that he was running just slightly ahead of me. I felt like he had cheated, jumping into the race at this point, and it wasn't fair that he was ahead. It made me feel slow, like I had to struggle to keep up. After mile 22, it was a struggle to just maintain my pace and keep moving, so I was in no mood to mentally try to keep up with my father, who had only run 1 - 2 miles at this point. I couldn't stand his loud, bizarre breathing. Again, he'd only been running a few miles – how could it be that big of a struggle relative to the rest of us who had run 23 miles? I couldn't stand his enthusiasm, cheering and dancing when we ran through music while the rest of us struggled to put one foot in front of the other. I was ready to punch him.
Of course none of this was necessarily his fault. I was just irritable and it really didn't matter what he did. Looking back, I do think it was wrong that he jumped in. He ended up crossing the finish line because there were fences up. That bothers me because he didn't do the work to get to the point. It was like cheating – enjoying the glory but not the pain.
But before we talk about the finish, let me just say: the last 2 miles were entirely brutal. I was reduced to chanting in my head "15 minutes left. 15 minutes left," and "I can do it. I can do it," just to keep myself going. I thought about the St. Jude kids whose battles are much longer than 26.2 miles or the 15/14/13/etc. minutes until I crossed the finish line. I thought about my pact to give it my all and not hold back. The 26th mile marker was at the top of a not-entirely-large-but-incredibly-difficult-and-disheartening hill. I felt like I was barely moving as I struggled up it. But at the top, the finish line came into view, down a slight incline.
I was very thankful to have Dad behind me yelling encouragement as I sprinted to the finish. As wrong as I now feel it was for him to run to the finish, I must say my post-race experience was much more pleasant with my dad by my side than it would have been had I been alone, waiting for 20 minutes in the St. Jude tent before the rest of the fam arrived.
I threw my arms in the air as I sprinted across the finish line. I couldn't believe I was done. Immediately I became aware of how much my legs hurt. I hobbled over to grab a heat sheet and then some Gatorade. I took as much food as Dad and I could carry from the runner refreshment area. And despite my stiff legs, I felt awesome! I grabbed a 312 beer and enjoyed it greatly.
The St. Jude tent was lovely. I finally met Kristine, the woman behind the St. Jude marathon experience. They provided food, drink and more beer (eventually I had a Blue Moon – after my barf-a-thon half marathon experience in August who woulda thought I'd be imbibing after 26.2?). I got my first massage, which was more like stretching and loosening up my muscles. It felt amazing and I could go for another right now. Mom, Peter, Lauren, Kevin, Nanie and Pops eventually made it to the tent. Good times '09.
My statz:
5K - 30:25 (30:25) - (5)
10K - 1:00:27 (30:02) - (2)
15K - 1:30:42 (30:15) - (4)
20K - 2:00:47 (30:05) - (3)
HALF - 2:07:22
25K - 2:30:35 (29:48) - (1)*
30K - 3:01:07 (30:32) - (6)
35K - 3:31:40 (30:33) - (7)
40K - 4:02:48 (31:08) - (8)
FINISH - 4:16:11
*My fastest 5K split was in the start of the second half - awesome!
Things I saw:
-Guy in bear costume with sign, "Run faster. A bear is chasing you!"
-Indian (native american) man with one leg. Beating me.
-Guy running in black suit, dressed as one of the Blues Brothers.
-Sign: "Your feet hurt because you're kicking ass."
-Elvis!
-Sign: "You're all Kenyans to me."
-Shirtless dude (it was freezing out for spectators) screaming and cheering.
-Guy: "It's not cold enough for you! You're all animals!"
-Another banana runner.
-Superwoman runner.
-People holding pieces of cardboard with Vasoline smeared on it for runners to use.
-Back of girl's shirt (roughly): "My boyfriend would be running with me but he's serving in Iraq. Run for the 32nd battalion thingie, etc."
-Group of guy runners with thick Boston accents shouting for donations for injured soldiers.
-In Pilsen, signs: "Sí, se puede!"
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
FOUR DAYS
I just ran my second to last training run. EEP!
Let me back up...
18-MILER - 5 weeks ago
In short, my parents are amazing. P and I drove down there to stay with them for two nights before we headed out to D.C. and Pennsylvania for a vacay and the JJ wedding. We got to their house late Saturday night. Ate some leftover narsty Chinese food. I mentioned to Mom that I should probably run 18 miles the next day, but I think I'd just put it off till Monday morning before we left on our road trip because it was so late already. She convinced me it'd be a much better idea to run the next morning, and volunteered to bike with me at a nearby lake/forest preserve!
Well, needless to say, the next morning I hit snooze when my alarm went off at 6 a.m. I groaned that my shins hurt, I was too tired, I'd just run tomorrow, etc. (the usual). Mom forced me out of bed. I groggily got ready, like a robot, and learned that Dad would be joining us. How lovely!
They stuck with me the whole way, on a lovely run through forest, bog and horse training areas. Mom dropped out with 6 miles to go and Dad got off the bike and ran the last 6 miles with me. Talk about great, supportive parents.
I finished pretty strong, and due to route miscalculations walked/jogged another 1.75 miles to the car. My knee did hurt, and I had some painful chafing in some unmentionable areas, but I had done it. My pace was slow, but I was going for distance, not speed.
20-MILER - 3 weeks ago
Was it really almost 3 weeks ago? Wow.
This run was pain.ful. It was a fairly warm day. I begged P to ride his bike with me, or at least meet me on the way back and bring me water. He finally said he "might."
The first 10 miles were great. I made it all the way out to Waukesha, couldn't find the Glacial Drumlin Trail, so just ran around downtown Waukesha and along the riverwalk. I actually went out 11 miles because I planned on running 22 if I could, and if not then I'd walk the last 2 hilly miles.
The way back started to get a little tougher. I kept anticipating that P would show up on the horizon at any moment. I started to get low on water and Gatorade... then I ran out of water. Around mile 14 or 15 I realized P was not coming. I started to hyperventilate because of the lack of liquids. Then I started to imagine P laying dead on the side of the road and not wearing a helmet. I wondered how I would find out if they took him to the hospital before I got to that part of the route. I pictured my mangled bike laying bloody at an intersection. I hyperventilated even more and seriously almost started balling.
I was going insane.
Seriously, I lost control of my emotions. I was going batty from too much exertion. Eventually I got a grip, but my pace suffered. I had to walk quite a bit. I savored every last drop of Gatorade and finally finished my 20 miles. Then came the torturous, hilly, dry walk for the last 2 miles. I got home, and P was nowhere to be found. Again, I nearly flipped out and started crying as I chugged cold water.
Turns out he had gotten a flat bike tire and RODE the broken bike 2 miles home. He was so exhausted from the heat and exertion of riding a friggin broken bike (smart!) he puked in someone's front lawn. I'm sure you can guess how sympathetic I was to his little tale after I had just run TWENTY miles. Oy.
That run was the hardest physical thing I've ever done. I can't believe in four short days I'll be running that PLUS 6.2 miles. Yikes.
THIS WEEK
This is it. Taper week, I suppose. I have been focusing more on speed for the past couple weeks, and honestly, I can notice a difference. I feel faster and more confident. I hope this will pay off on Sunday.
Saturday I ran 10 miles at a 9:46 pace. My somewhat lofty goal pace for the race is 10:00 miles. The 10-miler seemed pretty moderate at 9:46 so hopefully that's a good sign for my marathon intentions.
People keep asking me if I'm ready for the race, and I'm not really sure if I am. My runs for the past week have felt awesome and strong, so going by that alone I'd say yes. But those runs have been short. Based on my 20-miler, I'd say heck to the no. But that was 3 weeks ago.
I honestly don't know if a 10-minute pace is realistic for me. My 15+ mile runs have been slower than that by at least 30 seconds for the most part. I would love love love to run it in less than 4:30:00 though, and staying with the 10-minute pace group might help me stay motivated to do that.
Essentially, I'm just rambling. I have no idea what to expect, and as this is my first marathon I think my goal should be to finish and do my best. I REALLY want to stay mentally strong and not give up. I want to push it and give it my all. This is it. Who knows if I'll ever do this again (although I secretly am already planning my next one). So my goal is to just run my heart out.
Let me back up...
18-MILER - 5 weeks ago
In short, my parents are amazing. P and I drove down there to stay with them for two nights before we headed out to D.C. and Pennsylvania for a vacay and the JJ wedding. We got to their house late Saturday night. Ate some leftover narsty Chinese food. I mentioned to Mom that I should probably run 18 miles the next day, but I think I'd just put it off till Monday morning before we left on our road trip because it was so late already. She convinced me it'd be a much better idea to run the next morning, and volunteered to bike with me at a nearby lake/forest preserve!
Well, needless to say, the next morning I hit snooze when my alarm went off at 6 a.m. I groaned that my shins hurt, I was too tired, I'd just run tomorrow, etc. (the usual). Mom forced me out of bed. I groggily got ready, like a robot, and learned that Dad would be joining us. How lovely!
They stuck with me the whole way, on a lovely run through forest, bog and horse training areas. Mom dropped out with 6 miles to go and Dad got off the bike and ran the last 6 miles with me. Talk about great, supportive parents.
I finished pretty strong, and due to route miscalculations walked/jogged another 1.75 miles to the car. My knee did hurt, and I had some painful chafing in some unmentionable areas, but I had done it. My pace was slow, but I was going for distance, not speed.
20-MILER - 3 weeks ago
Was it really almost 3 weeks ago? Wow.
This run was pain.ful. It was a fairly warm day. I begged P to ride his bike with me, or at least meet me on the way back and bring me water. He finally said he "might."
The first 10 miles were great. I made it all the way out to Waukesha, couldn't find the Glacial Drumlin Trail, so just ran around downtown Waukesha and along the riverwalk. I actually went out 11 miles because I planned on running 22 if I could, and if not then I'd walk the last 2 hilly miles.
The way back started to get a little tougher. I kept anticipating that P would show up on the horizon at any moment. I started to get low on water and Gatorade... then I ran out of water. Around mile 14 or 15 I realized P was not coming. I started to hyperventilate because of the lack of liquids. Then I started to imagine P laying dead on the side of the road and not wearing a helmet. I wondered how I would find out if they took him to the hospital before I got to that part of the route. I pictured my mangled bike laying bloody at an intersection. I hyperventilated even more and seriously almost started balling.
I was going insane.
Seriously, I lost control of my emotions. I was going batty from too much exertion. Eventually I got a grip, but my pace suffered. I had to walk quite a bit. I savored every last drop of Gatorade and finally finished my 20 miles. Then came the torturous, hilly, dry walk for the last 2 miles. I got home, and P was nowhere to be found. Again, I nearly flipped out and started crying as I chugged cold water.
Turns out he had gotten a flat bike tire and RODE the broken bike 2 miles home. He was so exhausted from the heat and exertion of riding a friggin broken bike (smart!) he puked in someone's front lawn. I'm sure you can guess how sympathetic I was to his little tale after I had just run TWENTY miles. Oy.
That run was the hardest physical thing I've ever done. I can't believe in four short days I'll be running that PLUS 6.2 miles. Yikes.
THIS WEEK
This is it. Taper week, I suppose. I have been focusing more on speed for the past couple weeks, and honestly, I can notice a difference. I feel faster and more confident. I hope this will pay off on Sunday.
Saturday I ran 10 miles at a 9:46 pace. My somewhat lofty goal pace for the race is 10:00 miles. The 10-miler seemed pretty moderate at 9:46 so hopefully that's a good sign for my marathon intentions.
People keep asking me if I'm ready for the race, and I'm not really sure if I am. My runs for the past week have felt awesome and strong, so going by that alone I'd say yes. But those runs have been short. Based on my 20-miler, I'd say heck to the no. But that was 3 weeks ago.
I honestly don't know if a 10-minute pace is realistic for me. My 15+ mile runs have been slower than that by at least 30 seconds for the most part. I would love love love to run it in less than 4:30:00 though, and staying with the 10-minute pace group might help me stay motivated to do that.
Essentially, I'm just rambling. I have no idea what to expect, and as this is my first marathon I think my goal should be to finish and do my best. I REALLY want to stay mentally strong and not give up. I want to push it and give it my all. This is it. Who knows if I'll ever do this again (although I secretly am already planning my next one). So my goal is to just run my heart out.
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