It begins... again...

VCM 2009 registration is open!

I registered for Vermont City Marathon this week. I haven't run since the Chicago marathon about 4 weeks ago (except for a few sprints down the hallway at work on election night and up the stairs to the newsroom). I'm going to start running 10-15 miles/week again, and then start training in earnest over New Years.

I'm already feeling ambivalent about the declarations I made after Chicago about dedicating myself to training. I mean, that's a LOT of work.... See you at the starting line on Sunday, May 24, 2009.

The road to hell is also 26.2 miles long

Who sponsors this race anyway?

Have you seen the documentary about Badwater, the three-day ultra-marathon that's run in Death Valley each July? Check it out sometime, it's called "Running on the Sun: The Road to Hell is 135 Miles Long."

Anyway, the 2008 Bank of America Chicago Marathon didn't take me three days to finish, and the mercury didn't rise to 115 degrees, and I didn't require intravenous fluids, but it was pretty grueling. But who cares? I finished! And I'm thrilled.

Here's a bunch of numbers for you:

• "29 neighborhoods, 1 world-class race" as they say
• 31,401: number of runners who crossed the finish line
• 27,060: my place among the finishers
• 5 hours, 47 minutes, 2 seconds: time it took me to do so
  
• 45,000: numbers of runners who registered
• 33,033: number of runners who showed up to the starting line
  
• 12,000: number of runners who registered but didn't start (clearly they read the forecast better than I did)
• 20: minimum number of water/Gatorade tables
• 90: degrees Fahrenheit when I neared Mile 20
• 91: degrees Fahrenheit at Mile 21, when I stopped looking at temperature gauges

I signed up for Chicago with four other runners, all of them super fast and fabulous. (Over there to the left is the five of us masking varying degrees of distress before the race started.) Heidi and Beth had been anxious about the weather; they do not like to run in heat. I had been naively blaise about the weather, truly believing that it wouldn't be much different than the Vermont marathon was last spring.


Start line
Because Chicago is such a massive race, the start is highly organized in corrals for the fast (Heidi), very fast (Erika), extremely fast (Brooke Taber, more on him below) and inhuman (Lidiya Grigoryeva, who won the women's race in 2:27:17). The rest of us line up in the open seeding, where they helpfully have pace markers ranging from 7:30-minute miles to 15-minute miles. I had been planning to start at the 12-minute pace marker, but once I got there it seemed lonely and slow, so I went up to the 11-minute marker. Then I had to pee, so I left the start area and got in line at the Port-o-let. The lines there should have also had pace markers because some lines were definitely moving faster than others. As I stood there, I heard the national anthem sung, I heard the wheelchair start, the elite runners' start, and eventually the mass race start. This didn't really worry me because it can take a solid 15-20 minutes to actually cross the start line, which triggers the timing chip on your shoe. So I waited, and I peed, and then I realized the fencing around the start area was closed. So I had I nice little aerobic warm-up by climbing over and jumping off of the chain link fence into a swarm of 10-minute pace runners who helpfully made enough space for me to land without injuring myself (and without taking any of them down either.)

The cattle herd moved slowly at first, with lots of stops and starts but eventually we could see the start line and the mass of people opened up a bit and we were off. The initial miles were an awesome tour of downtown - jumping back and forth over the river and turning corners among massive towering buildings. I enjoyed Chicago and the race in general, but I have to say that the city on this particular day had many, many smells and most of them were a variation on sewage. I don't think the runners can be blamed for this because I noticed it early and it stayed strong throughout.

So, how'd it go?
As has been documented here, I had realistically low expectations for this race. I was certain I would start, fairly certain that I would finish, and guessed it would take at least 6 hours, probably 6:15. My rough plan was to run the first half, walk the second. As I neared the halfway point, I was losing energy but I knew I could do more than just walk the second half. At 13.1 miles, I walked till I saw the 14 Mile marker, then picked it back up to a jog.

Not too long after that, the race officials were on the loudspeakers alerting us that the course alert warning had gone from Yellow to Red. All weekend, the Yellow Flags were flying high, telling runners to be cautious and that conditions are "less than ideal." The Red Flags meant "seek medical attention, consider dropping out, don't be stupid." (Okay, those should be air quotes, not actual quotes.) At this point I was tired, but I was assigning that to lack of training, not the heat. My only concern was that the status would be upped to Black ("you have no choice, we're ending the race, sucks to be you") and I wouldn't be allowed to finish. So Miles 15-16 were a contemplation of running hard to cross the finish while the race is still going, and just going a comfortable pace so as not to kill myself in the process. I saw a handful people sitting on curbs in the shade, and many dozens crowded around the medical tents, but I only saw one person being carried into an ambulance. I heard the sirens more frequently as the race wore on, and I heard later a few dozen runners went to the hospital. (Clearly they didn't follow my training plan.)

Snacks!
Somewhere around Mile 16-17 I spotted several bags of pretzels sitting under a spectator's chair on the sidewalk. I felt hungry early on, and I was determined to get those pretzels, the only question was how ridiculous I was willing to be to make it happen. As I was deciding whether to just snatch the bag and rip it open, and throw myself on the mercy of the spectators, I realized they were handing out the golden, salty morsels from heaven in bowlfuls to runners. The sanitation of those pretzels had to be questionable, but I grabbed two huge handfuls and devoured them in a way that had to have looked slightly desperate and off-putting. Whoever those pretzel people were, you should know that you saved my race. (And the woman who gave me giant Lemondheads and Smarties a few blocks later was pretty awesome, too.)

Hydration!
From Mile 10 I had been pouring cups of water on my head in addition to drinking them. By Mile 17-18 I started to notice that my fingers were swollen and the tepid water felt freezing cold. I still wasn't fully aware of how hot it was, I just thought I was slow and out of shape. The weather.com forecast had predicted a high of 78 degrees at 2 p.m., and it wasn't that late yet. (Brooke Taber of the National Weather Service in Burlington, who also ran Chicago and hung out with us, chided me afterward for paying any heed to weather.com.) When I rounded the corner at Mile 20, a bank had a digital temperature display that read 90 degrees. That frankly shocked me and I immediately decided that bank didn't know what it was talking about. Soon after I saw another display that read 91 degrees. Dang! No wonder I felt like I was slogging through molasses.

Special effects!
There's a sweet graphic online that shows how fast I went during different phases of the race: mostly steady in the beginning but slowing, a significant slowdown 3/5 of the way through, then faster again at the end (pretzel power kicked in). Here's the static image: check out the rally late in the game!


From Mile 20 on I was constantly recalculating my pace and predicted finish time. All around me were people who had their own predicted finish times on their backs, and many of them were 5:30 and 5:45. The 5:30 people were clearly off pace, the 5:45s were actually right on. If I could stay with them (and assuming we crossed the start line at about the same time) I'd would be so, so thrilled. With 6 miles to go, it meant I had to walk fast and run more than half of the remaining distance. It's hard to explain how hard that actually was to do.

If the Goodyear blimp had been there....
Let me give you a visual: most of the race course was broad open streets, 4 lanes wide, filled with people running and walking in one direction. Deeper into the race, fewer and fewer people were running, leaving those of us who were to dodge and weave among the walkers to find enough space to actually run. I mean, I was chugging at a 13:30 pace and I was actually hollering to people, "on your left!" If you're familiar with John Bingham's columns in Runner's World that pay homage to slowpokes like him who stick it out, you'll recall that he calls himself "The Penguin" - tottering, wobbling but still moving forward. There were many, many times when I looked at the landscape of suffering runners late in the race and thought if this isn't the march of the penguins, I don't know what is.

The Finish
With a few miles to go, rounding the corner onto Michigan Ave, I thought I could definitely rally enough reserves, determination and crowd energy to jog through to the finish. Amazingly, with only 2 miles to go, I couldn't keep up a consistent run. I was definitely running faster than I had earlier, but I couldn't keep up that pace. Even the volunteers handing out cupfuls of ice, and the fire hydrants gushing cold water at us weren't enough to make up for the heat. (Not to mention that water-filled shoes can slow you down.)

From Mile 25 I was powered by fumes and will power. I knew I was just out of reach of 5:45, but not by much. I ran hard, probably at about the same pace I had at the beginning, rounded the corner to the 26 Mile marker, and tried like crazy to run to the top of the bridge there. For a course that prides itself on being fast and flat, I can say that neither was true at Mile 26. I nearly got to the top of that bridge without walking, but had to slow for about 15 feet. Then the course takes another turn, and it's downhill .2 miles to the finish line. I don't think I've ever worked harder to run .2 miles - I ran as hard and fast as I could, and about 25 yards from the finish I thought, "Jeez, it would be lame if I had to stop and walk right here."

Happily I did not have to slow down, I cruised straight through the finish, with an official time of 5:47:02 - a mere 2 minutes off of a goal that I didn't think was possible until way late in the race.

So what's next?
Clearly I need to write a manual on how to finish a marathon without really working at it. After that, I'm going to do some strength training because my abs were killing me from the effort of staying upright for all those hours. Shoulders, feet, calves ached, too.

And then, maybe in late November, I'm going to start training for the '09 Vermont City Marathon. This time, I swear, I will do it right. I will commit to the training. I will do my physical therapy exercises. I will do hill work, and speed work. I will not skip weekday runs. I will not have an attitude of 'just get in the miles' on the long runs. I will actually get a handle on nutrition. I will finish VCM in 4:59. And THAT will be my last marathon. Maybe.

Fun stuff:
These links go to the graphs of all of our races:

Ally's race
Beth's race
Brooke's race
Erika's race
Heidi's race
Patti's race
Lidiya Grigoryeva's race

And this is a picture of how I will remember Heidi from this weekend, constantly planning via text message. (This shot was taken near "The Bean" in Millennium Park.)

Last note: Chicago Marathon is Sunday

It's Friday morning, my is bag (pretty much) packed, I've got my confirmation ticket that guarantees me a bib, and my zenned out "whatever happens is fine" state of mind is holding up quite well.

My bib # is 16766

If you think you'd like to have many hours of your Sunday punctuated with reminders of my agony, you can follow my progress through a runner tracking system with online updates or text messages, your choice. Click here to sign up for that (I'm registered as Patricia Daniels.)

I'm going to Chicago with 4 other women, among them some phenomenally fast and dedicated runners. I'm taking the approach pointed out by Ally Gould: you paid for this weekend, you want to stay out there as long as possible to get your money's worth.

A few details:

• The marathon begins around 8 a.m. on Sunday
• I have calculated that if I walk all 26.2 miles at a 15-minute pace then I will finish in 6 1/2 hours, which is when they officially close the race course.
  
• If I run 13 miles at a 12-minute pace and walk the other half at 15-minute pace I'll finish in about 6 hours.
• If at any point my lungs revolt and decide they are not, NOT putting up with this any more, then I'm willing to drop out. But I'd really rather not and I think I can avoid that.

A few more facts:

The shoes I'm racing in have logged less than 10 miles. This is unorthodox, but my only other option is the shoes that have logged too many miles and feel dead. Had I done any running in the last three weeks, these shoes would have been perfectly broken in. However if you read my earlier post about Saucony, you'll agree that I have no reason to worry.

I've decided to pack only a carry-on for the plane. The choice was to check a bag and carry-on everything I need for race day (so as not to lose said shoes and everything else), or just just to carry-on everything. When I realized that in fact I can stuff all my Gu, Himaya sunscreen, toothpaste, etc into a one-quart bag, and that all these items are in packages under 3 ounces, I decided not to flirt with the risk of O'Hare baggage handlers keeping straight the luggage of 40,000 arriving runners.

Yes, 40,000 runners are in the Chicago Marathan. For comparison's sake, this is the population of the entire City of Burlington, Vt. This is 20 times the population of the town of Grand Isle, Vt. And as of 9 a.m. on Friday, this is more than four times the value of the Dow. (Give it a 1/2 hour, I think it might be five times the value of the Dow.)

Thanks for the good wishes. Talk to you next week!

www.ChicagoMarathan.com

When lungs attack

When I last wrote, I cheerfully detailed the disgusting phlegm issue that took up residence in my respiratory tract, along with a deep cough, endless floes of snot and an occasional low-grade fever (did I mention the fever?) I had run 13 miserable miles and I muddled through the next week, not running on the weekdays and imagining that this was a way of saving up my energy to attempt a quality long run.

That strategy actually worked quite well. On Sunday September 20 I got up before dawn and drove to Richmond to run 20 miles. The plan was to start earlier than Heidi and Beth and finish at the same time to gorge ourselves on baked goods. I didn't know what to expect for this run and I was exceedingly pleased at how well it went. I walked a little, kept a reasonable pace, saw a beaver swimming in the Winooski River, listened to some great podcasts (including one that confirmed for me that the kicker for the San Diego Chargers is a huge public radio fan), and finished in a time that was as good as I could expect, regardless of whether I've sick an undertrained. Though I was exhausted in the last 3 miles.

After that Sunday 20 miler, I was slammed at work for a few days and woke up Wednesday with a resurgent sore throat, cough, stuffy nose, headache. I made it through that day on will power alone, and then spent the next several days in bed feeling sorry myself. I subsisted on popsicles and Robitussin for several days, and finally went to the doctor. He told me that three weeks of coughing is a danger zone but that, I quote, "it's not walking pneumonia yet." Yet! Excellent! I took my three prescriptions to the pharmacy, where I also bought still more popsicles and Kleenex with lotion. I love Kleenex with lotion.

When I attempted going back to work my coworkers gasped and ran for cover at the disgusting sounds of my mucusy cough, prompting them to send me home. The cough stuck around, the stuffy nose continued to be full of yellow muck, I carried on feeling sorry for myself and finally went back to the doctor. He sent me to the hospital for a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia, but didn't have much to offer for a virus that won't let go.

At this point I was on Week 2 of having not run at all, and Week 4 of having run very little and race day was approaching. One might argue that "rest" before a race is good thing, but not the kind of rest brought on by chronic wasting disease.

And now three weeks have passed, and the race is a few days away. I did run on Monday this week, a nice and easy 5 miles that felt pretty good. A little coughing, more than a little snot (that's what sleeves are for) but the new shoes felt great and I was able to change pace pretty easily throughout the run.

So to recap: my training has stunk, from beginning to end. Some of it was lack of effort, some of it was injury, some of it was an overextended schedule, and in the end I got slammed by sickness. The afternoon that I went to get a chest x-ray was the first time I really questioned whether I would try to run the race. But with a negative x-ray on my side, and the memory of that pretty successful 20 mile run, I'm feeling cautiously optimistic.

Why, why do I do this?

So yes, it's Saturday night and I'm sitting home updating my blog. That is pretty sorry situation, but not as sorry as my run this afternoon: 13 miles, half of it walked, copious amounts of phlegm and snot left along the way.

Ten days ago I had a vicious sore throat that I was determined to beat back with Ricola cough drops, Emergen-C fizzy drink stuff, gallons of water and popsicles. (I like popsicles when I'm sick.) That was a week and two boxes of Puffs Plus ago, not to mention hours upon hours of sick time spent on my couch.

Two days into it, I did a long run - 17 miles - despite the runny nose and sore throat. I was waaaay fatigued and walked more than is respectable but I got the miles in that's what counted. The days that followed left me questioning whether that was such a good idea: waking with endless volumes of snot blowing from my nose, headaches, sore throat, raspy voice. It was enough to make me wonder: with so few weekends left for quality long runs before the the taper, would I have been better off resting through the beginning of a cold and potentially not making it worse; or doing the long run because there are no spare weekends to put if off?

And let the bronchitis-emphyzema-hacking cough that has taken up residence in my lungs be the proof: perhaps I shouldn't have run last weekend. It's the kind of cough that employs a demented ability to surprise: sometimes it's dry and chaffs my throat, sometimes it leaves me choking on sloppy chunks of phelgm; sometimes it disappears for hours, then it rears back with such viciousness that my abs are as sore as my bronchial tubes.

At 8:30 this morning I called Nadine (who helpfully reported, "Ew. You don't sound good") to say that I did want to try running, and I was hopeful in guessing that the afternoon might be the optimal time for my lung capacity. We slogged through 13 miles on the bike path in Burlington, with generous walk breaks whilst I tried to get all the coughing out in one long spell, having saved it up for however long we'd just run. Along the way we cataloged our health complaints: in addition to the vile infection that's taken over over my respiratory tract, I've got a spot of tendonitis in my right knee, off and on low back pain, bursitis in my right hip and apparently a bad kidney (as I determined around 3:30 this morning when I woke up with a mysterious localized pain in my back) . Excellent! I think I need serious rest, a massive infusion of nutrition and some good luck too. ("Luck is for the ill-prepared" - yep, that sound about right....)

Chicago marathon is one month away. Next weekend I'm going to run 20 quality miles and hope that it goes well enough to give me momentum to get to the start line and the finish line.

Dear Saucony...

Dear Saucony,

Please forgive me for doubting you. I never should have turned my back on you to seek out a better running shoe.

I remember more than a year ago, when I ran injury-free in those turquoise Sauconys that felt just right. Those were the good old days for you and me, Saucony. This year, you updated my shoe with that pearly-green number that wasn't quite the same, but I ran in them anyway. Things had been pretty good for awhile, but I thought there might be something better out there.

In April, when I spent a week with Mizunos, I was laid up with a painful hip flexor injury that could have sidelined me from the marathon. I went back to you then, but still had doubts. Earlier this month, I thought the time was right to break up with you again. I looked at Adidas, and Izumi and settled on a pair of Nikes. I couldn't help but grimace as I stood at the cash register and stared at the Saucony motto on a bumper sticker, "Loyal to the sport." But not loyal to you, was I Saucony? A mere 7 miles I logged in those Nikes, and I woke up with terrible low back pain.

This time I've learned. Either your shoes ARE just right, or they have metaphysical powers beyond what you should be able to construct from rubber, foam and mesh. Either way, I promise never to stray again. Even if next year's shoe comes in really ugly colors.

Yours,
Patti

1:59:59

Last weekend was the Paul Mailman 10-miler in Montpelier, which turned out to be the most hilarious and humiliating few hours I've ever spent in the Capital City.

I decided to run it thinking it was like a community fun run -- a few hundred people, some good runners, lots of poor schlubs out to see if they can finish. My training schedule indicated only 8 miles, which is the farthest I've run since recovering from the marathon, but I figured I could eke out 10 miles in 2 hours. Which I did. But the people around me? Yeah, different story.

First of all, there were only 80 people in the race. No where to hid among 80 people. I don't know who Paul Mailman is or was, but his followers are fabulous athletes - serious distance runners, and really fast. The first 1/4-mile of the race was around the track at Montpelier High School. By the time I reached the first turn I could already see how the day was going to go: I was second to last and losing ground quickly. Nice.

The out-and-back race gave me the opportunity to ponder and calculate, what mile will I be at when the front runners are heading back in? Mile 4, she wonders hopefully? Try Mile 3. Then the pack swarmed by, my friends among them. (Darn you, Heidi and Thao!) A very nice guy named Dan (Ben? Bob!) was the next runner ahead of me, and I kept his bright orange shirt in sight for several miles but lost ground on him as the race went on. He must have run 11:00 or 11:30 miles.

The volunteers were very nice and supportive. One asked me if I was "okay" with a look of concern on her face. By that I think she meant, "are you about to have a coronary because you're out here with no idea of what you doing?" I tried to be suave in saying, "Oh this 10 miler? It's nothing. I'm fine, this was my marathon pace last month. Yeah, that's right. MARATHON. Sit down, sister." (Note the expansive space around me in the photo above.)

At this point it's clear to every runner who's long since passed me, and every volunteer who's been watching, that I am dead last in this race and that I'm last by a long stretch. So when I saw a friendly volunteer waiting at the mile 7 marker I thought, "Gee, that's nice of him to be out here cheering me on." As I trotted by he picked up the Mile 7 board, chucked it into a minivan and drove off. At Mile 8, there he was clapping and smiling for me. "Mind if I take this?" he asks as he plucks the marker out of the ground. No, don't mind at all. This continued through Mile 9 as I headed back toward the finish line at the Montpelier High School track.

About 1/2 mile from the finish, Heidi and Thao were ready to run me in. They were funny and delusional in describing how I was all alone out here - just like Joan Benoit in the 84 Olympics: entering the Coliseum with no other runners in sight, a crowd of people waiting. Unfortunately, I was alone because I was last, and the crowd was waiting because they had finished 30 minutes earlier and still wanted to have the awards ceremony.

With about half a strait-away to go on the track, a volunteer told me there was 20 seconds left before the clock hit 2 hours. Heidi and Thao were screaming and yelling for me to sprint, and all the other runners milling around the finish line joined in. I felt like I was running my heart out, but it may not have appeared like much effort to these folks. I had an eye on the digital clock as I pushed toward the finish - 1:59:55, 1:59:56, 1:59:57... I thought that was my official time, as I got lost in the cheers of my adoring (read: bored) fellow runners.

I had to fetch my bag from a friend's car and when I made it back to the finishing area, the awards were over. Lo, I had missed out on the only award I had ever won from running: a bottle of BBQ sauce for finishing last.

And my official time, that's right: 1:59:59.

My friend was meant to meet me afterward to give me a ride up to Stowe. She doesn't know Montpelier and got pretty lost. So I gave her directions to the main highway by the school and walked out there to meet her. I was sitting on the corner with my tote bag as car after car full of runners left the school and slowed to ask me (again), "Are you ok? Need a ride?" Now, I realize that I ran about 1/2 as fast as the dude who won this race, and that my pace seems so pathetically slow to these people that I must have some kind of physical disability, and perhaps my choice of a bright pink tank top drew extra unnecessary attention to my performance, but despite that I am - in fact - capable of arranging for my own transportation.

And that is why I can never show my face among the central Vermont running community again.

This race is dedicated to Prednisone

(Follow this link for race recap and pictures)

So I just had my post-race spine cracking from my chiropractor Tiffany. After plenty of 'how was the race, how do you feel' chit-chat I realized she hadn't heard about the poison ivy and the cold and a week of no sleep, blah blah blah.

Tiffany's eyes completely bugged out of her head when I told her I've been taking steroids for the poison ivy since last Thursday. Apparently, steroids are the baddest anti-inflammatory around. She thinks I finished the race in as good condition as I did thanks to the Prednisone. (She may have a point. It's not like I have huge natural running ability to back me up.)

A less-than-inspiring quote from Tiff:
"You should be really thankful you got that poison ivy."

It's over!

What a relief - I made it to the finish and didn't have to reckon with my worst of fears: being slower than last year.

This year's time: 5:27
Last year's time: 5:33

It's only six minutes, but it's better than having to say I was slower.... And, I don't mind pointing out that I beat 72-year old Betty Lacharite by 14 minutes. Take that!

Get your fix of cool graphics, check out my results from RunVermont.

How not to spend the week before a race:

Anyone will recommend that you take it really, really easy: light jogging - only a few miles, reduce stress, no yard work or extra work of any kind, lots of rest, eat well. I didn't do any yard work, but everything else pretty much fell apart for me in the days before the marathon:

10 days out:
Poison ivy confirmed, spreads down my left hip and leg

1 week out:
I run 18 miles (despite oozing wounds) because I have to.

6 days out, work week from hell:
Very long days, many details, deadlines that can't be pushed back. Very little quality sleep is coming my way, in fact I don't sleep through the night all week.

4 days out:
Poison ivy is ferocious and spreading to my feet. How do you tie on running shoes when you have poison ivy on your FEET?! Feeling generally rundown, my throat is sore and my voice is coming and going. I go to the doctor, who does a strep test just to be sure about the white spots I see on my throat and puts me on steroids for the poison ivy. (Unfortunately they weren't performance-enhancing steroids.)

3 days out:
Daily cocktail of Prednisone, Sudafed and Advil, not to mention bottles of calamine lotion. Itching starts to subside, but I'm feeling very dehydrated and still not sleeping. Mood changes from resignation to nervousness, fatalism to optimism.

2 days out:
I wasn't able to eat as much or as well as I should have in the days right before the race. My sleep did improve a little, along with fake naps during which I couldn't actually sleep but just sat still. Hitting my foot a few times while playing croquette the night before didn't help.

And yet....

The morning of the race was warmer than predicted, bright and sunny. From the first few yards my right hip ached a bit, but miraculously that went away after a couple of miles. I felt winded, which I can only chalk up to nerves. Once I got through the initial downtown loop and out on the beltline, I felt much more relaxed, much more in control of my run. I was hitting 12-minute miles right on the the nose, which was the best I could hope for. That stretch of highway was a real boost to my spirits: seeing so many runners I knew (coming back from, the the turnaround already...), much less frenzy without the spectators, beautiful views of Camel's Hump.

Coming back into downtown around Mile 9, I still felt strong and was still exactly on a 12-minute pace. Stopped to apply some Chapstick and chat with Nadine, Maria and Chiara, then headed to South End. After a few miles, I started to feel things come apart. I had been feeling a pull in my left quad for a while and it wasn't going away, my pace was flagging and so were my spirits. I didn't really consider stopping, but I serious questions about how I would get through the next 14+ miles -- more than half the race still to go. I willed myself up that pesky hill in South Cove, coasted a little into Oakledge Park at the 1/2 way point, then just tried to zone out until the top of Battery Hill. I felt like I just needed to get to mile 16, a little past the police station, and then things might turn around.

Battery Hill was brutal, but it helped to have friends and family at the bottom and the top to keep me motivated. THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO WAS THERE! (I figured if I'm going to drop out, I can't do it right here in front of you all.) True enough, once I got out on North Ave, things calmed down and I was running a lot stronger. Somewhere between Miles 16-20 I actually picked up a lot of time and ran a few 11-minute miles. Passing people who are slower and clearly worse off than you is huge boost.

From Mile 20 on, I was completely consumed with my watch. I knew my time from last year, and I knew what pace I needed to hit in order to match it or beat it. Every time I got to a mile marker I recalculated the time and distance remaining and set a one-mile goal. The heat and fatigue were enough that I could keep only three thoughts in my head:

"12-minute mile. Just one more 12-minute mile."
"I really want to walk. Who cares about last year's time?"
"Do not walk, do not walk, do not walk..."

Also, I made room for these thoughts:

"Why are my hands so swollen? ... I've drunken 3 gallons of water and Gatorade and yet I haven't peed in 4 1/2 hours. I bet that's not good.... Where the hell is the finish line already?"

Happily enough, I did find the finish line, and not on a stretcher like some poor guy apparently did. I crossed the timing pad with a smile and fistful of balloons, a full 6 minutes ahead of last year's time. It's not much, but consider:

- I got injured this year, and when I should have been running my longest miles, I was sitting on the couch.
- Altogether, I probably had 75-100 fewer training miles than last year.
- It was darn hot out yesterday!
- Did I mention the poison ivy and lack of sleep?

Thank you again for all of your messages and encouragement. Next race: Chicago in October!

Advice for spectators (it's all about you)

I really appreciated all the support and cheering you guys gave me last year during the race. Hopefully you will feel like coming out again this year, and hopefully you won't have to stand in the pouring rain while waiting for me to show up at the finish line.

Here's information to make your spectator experience as enriching as possible:


SATURDAY:

There's a Sports and Fitness Expo at the Sheraton: scores of vendors with outdoor gear, running gear, freebies, samples and deals. Note the nervous runners all around you. Shops your hearts out, then check out some of the short films, speakers and slide shows that are going on upstairs from the exhibition hall. More info here

SUNDAY:

Logistics

About 8,000 runners will be on the race course Sunday, and up to 40,000 spectators will be watching them. (That’s the whole population of Burlington!) Here’s some advice for joining that crowd:

Parking:
Do not attempt to park near the Waterfront or near Battery Park, unless you feel like getting there at 7 a.m. Best to park downtown, the city garages on Cherry Street are a good bet. Meters will be off because it's Sunday.

Starting line:
The starting gun for the marathon goes off at 8:05 a.m., after the wheelchair races at 8:00. The race starts at Battery Park, with runners heading south on Battery Street briefly, then turning left onto Pearl Street. I will be somewhere in Battery Park by 7:20 a.m. Let me know if you want to meet up for coffee and donuts.

Finish line:
The elite runners will cross the finish line a bit after 10 a.m. I will be right behind them at 1:30 p.m.... maybe 2:00 p.m. The end of the race course makes a big loop of Waterfront Park: runners come in by the Coast Gaurd station, follow the boardwalk the Echo Center, make a sharp left onto the grass, then loop back a 1/4 mile to the finish line. The "infield" created by that loop is a good place to watch the finish. Just listen carefully to the crossing guards who keep spectators out of the way of runners, and do what you're told.

Party:
In Burlington's tradition of every-weekend-a-festival-for-something, there should be plenty of good times in Waterfront Park for the finish line party: food, ice cream, music, tons of people laughing, crying, passing out in their aluminum blankies.

Marathon “I Spy”

The wheelchair racers are pretty amazing; Flash Gordon dressed in red spandex with gold lightning bolts; elite runners at the head of the race - they are super fast; Taiko Drummers at the bottom of Battery Hill; random guy in Speedo with an accordion, on Pearl Street in the first mile.

Where to find me during the race

I will be wearing a black running skirt (love it!), pink tank top and possibly a blue shirt if it’s chilly, tan and gray baseball cap, sunglasses. I won’t be wearing my name on my shirt, but I’m not judging those who do.

You can look for me at the popular spectator locations at the times below. This is a really rough estimate – I might be faster, or I could be much, much slower.

8:05 a.m. STARTING LINE, Battery Park
8:40 a.m. Church Street - going uphill (Mile 3)
9:53 a.m. Church Street again - going downhill (Mile 9)
10:41 a.m. Oakledge Park (Mile 13)
11:05 a.m. Top of Battery Hill, Battery Park (Mile 15)
12:11 p.m. North Ave, Flynn School (Mile 20.5)
1:17 p.m. Waterfront boardwalk (Mile 26)
1:20 p.m. FINISH LINE - Waterfront Park (Mile 26.2)

I should definitely make it to the finish by 2:00 p.m.

The area around Battery Park-Church Street-Waterfront Park is ideal for seeing the runners several times without having to walk too far yourself.

Helpful links:

Vermont City Marathon
Race course map

Notes from the final training run

My training schedule, as you have read, is totally whack and so why not throw one more curve: I did my last training run in New Hampshire this weekend during a rugby tournament. (No, I did not play.)

First, yes I did run 18 miles the week before the marathon. Take that, you faithful believers in tapering!

I watched rugby games all day Saturday, took a break to get in a short jog with Nadine (that turned into a "where exactly does this road go?!" 5-mile trek). Sunday morning came early and I ran 18 miles back and forth through the town of North Conway, and finished in time to catch the championship game of the weekend. I mapped out a pretty flat route by repeating a loop, though I did confuse myself with how many loops around the town I was supposed to take. I felt AWESOME for the first 10 miles, still pretty good at 13, then fatigue hit hard in the final miles. I think I didn't eat enough beforehand. Or maybe it was that I skipped 3 weeks of running last month? Huh, hard to tell.

Thank you Gwen for the good stretches you showed me - it made a difference to walk and stretch after the run, rather than sit comatose and let rigor mortis set it. I saved that for the drive home from NH.

iPod: I caught up with a radio show, The Story with Dick Gordon. Among the things I learned about while running: offices that let employees bring their babies to work; a frequent flier who actually changed jobs to avoid flying after repeated, unwarranted harassment by flight attendants and homeland security; how CEOs turn around a failing, scandal-stained company in the midst of an SEC investigation (thank you Bear Stearns!). I also listened to a This American Life gem about television: particularly enjoyable was Sarah Vowel's examination of how sit coms portray colonial life in America. Yes, Bewitched did air time-travel program on the Salem witch trials, twice. One for each Darren.

Defy the taper! and other random notes

Right about now, other runners are enduring the period of training called the taper: 2 to 3 weeks of rest and coach-potatoey-ness before race day. I, on the other hand, and still building my mileage. No taper for me.

With 10 days till race day, I am contemplating what my finish time will be, whether I will finish, whether I will be happy if and when I finish. I've also found myself creating metaphors and analogies to describe how I feel about my upcoming race:

... my marathon is a late-model car: works well enough, a little rust on the wheel wells
... my marathon is a shirt that you were planning to wash but then you decide to wear it one more time.
... my marathon is the embodiment of the 5-second rule: food falls on the floor, you think, 'oh shit!' and pause to question whether you will still eat it, then you do and it's pretty much ok.

I am feeling excited for the race again this year: the ritual of getting ready, imagining different parts of the course, guessing at what my pace will be. This weekend is my last Sunday before the race. I'm planning to run 17-18 miles, then taking it easy until race day. Yikes!

2 weeks left!

"Our greatest glory consists not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thank you, Allison! Every day she sends out an inspirational message for runners, and this one is especially heartening with two weeks to go and some doubt still remaining.

I ran 15 miles yesterday in South Hero, which is GORGEOUS, by the way. Perfect blue sky, warm sun, shaggy llamas and calves, oven views of the lake, fabulous kitchy yard decorations. I felt really good the first half, tired in the middle, and gave in to walking a bit around mile 12-13 when I hit a hill. Ran the last of it though! I had thought of adding on an extra mile at the end because 16 miles seems a lot more accomplished than 15, but a creemee stand was waiting at mile 15 and I think everyone could have guessed how the last mile was going to turn out.

I felt tired but not injured during and after yesterday's run. Ate a huge dinner and fell asleep at 9 p.m. Today... wicked sore. I stretched and felt better but not 100%. I think more stretching and I'll be ready for tomorrow's 5 mile run.

8 miles on the Erie Canal - sweet!

Once or twice a year I go to Latham, NY, near Albany to get my car serviced. (There are reasons for doing this that are not interesting and best saved for another blog.) Typically, I leave a little after 5 a.m. and arrive when they open at 8 a.m., then wait in the "Customer Lounge" and where the Wi-Fi and cappuccino are free, and the seating is cushy. A few hours later, I drive home.

This service visit fell on a day when I was scheduled to run 8 miles, and I am so happy I thought to go running in Latham while waiting for the car. First of all, you can imagine any multi-lane road lined with car dealerships and you can imagine Latham, NY. So it's not attractive for running, one would think. But one would also consult Google maps and learn that the freaking Erie Canal is right there! A mere mile away the scenery changes completely -- pastoral farm fields, a wide and flat river, reedy banks, a beautifully maintained bike path going for miles in all directions.

I ran about 6 miles and stopped at Lock 7. (iPod: "The Takeaway," a new program from WNYC. I'm not sold yet. John Hockenberry needs to shut up and let other people talk.) The worker at Lock 7 (the lockmaster?) taught me all about how the lock operates and let me walk out to the far side of the lock where the dam is. And then lucky enough, a fishing boat came through and I got to see the lock in action.

Let me just say that I had no idea the Erie Canal extended all the way east to the Hudson River. It makes me appreciate what an engineering feat that really was to build it. And second, lock are pretty incredible in themselves. If you haven't seen one in action, plan your next holiday near a river with a lot of boat traffic.

Oh yeah, and then I ran the last 2 miles back to the car dealership.

Rebuilding mileage with Rev. Wright

Sunday, May 4, I planned a long run for 13 miles in Burlington - the same distance I ran back on April 5 when I got injured. This run was much better, but also much slower. I had a good 7 1/2 mile loop from my house through town out to Leddy Park, down the bike path and back home to shed a layer of clothing before taking a second lap. (Spring is tough for planning one's running apparel!)

Playing on the iPod for this run: several episodes of the NPR program News & Notes, a good interview show that covers news in the African-American community. Fascinating, way-informative discussion of Jeremiah Wright and Obama that I haven't heard or seen in any other media.

How can you not stare at this?

I absolutely did not want to run last night -- it was cold outside, I had a headache, wah, wah. Around 8:30 p.m. I willed myself to go to the gym and put in at least a minimal effort. Totally worth it though: I spent an hour trying not to stare at a woman who was doing the craziest, most distracting Stairmaster workout EVER.

First, the clothes: bathing suit top, men's boxer shorts (seemingly with elfin Santa characters, hard to tell from a distance), calf-length tube socks, hiking boots, and pile of hair like Amy Winehouse (no mascara though).

Second, the workout regimen: most of the time, she was nearly crouching down at the base of the Stairmaster with her arms extended straight up overhead, hanging onto the arm rails. It did not look comfortable, normal or especially beneficial to one's health. Then occasionally she'd stand upright and use the machine more normally, except....

Third, the newspaper: ... when standing up she took the opportunity to read the paper, sort of. She had a huge stack of newspapers -- like, a foot-tall stack of daily newspapers, free supermarket circulars, and those random papers that always seem to be around but no one actually read. She didn't seem to be reading them either, more like looking at each page for a few seconds, then violently turning the page, and then throwing the paper on the floor in such a way that it fell open in crumpled pile. By the time she finished her workout, there was seriously a mole hill of newspapers piled all around her.

Anyway, it made the time pass.

Four weeks to go! Cautiously optimistic...

So this was a good week. I did 4 and 5-mile "runs" (not really running, is it?) on the elliptical several days, one day getting up to 8 miles. And today, four weeks away from race day, I got OUTSIDE for long a run. This involved actual running: lifting one foot, then the other, repeat, repeat, repeat.

Shelburne Farms has miles of dirt roads (more forgiving that asphalt, prettier than the suburbs) so I went there on Tiffany's advice. (She neglected to mention it would be "Calf Open House" and that oodles of families and Volvos would be tearing up the place. Baby cows are very popular.) The terrain was good: open roads, tree-lined roads, lakeside roads, wooded roads. I think I got in 11.5 miles of running, mostly, with some walking and several generous breaks to stretch and look at farm animals.

Right now I'm tired and achy, but shouldn't one be tired and achy after going 11 miles on three weeks of rest and sedentary living? I think tomorrow morning will be the real test of whether I'm ready to pick up the training again.

Revised training plan!
So typically, you would train for a marathon on an 18 week schedule. You start with a lower volume of miles per week, and one weekly long run that gradually gets longer - up to 18, 20, 22 miles. Those really long runs are what most people are doing now, and they'll keep doing that distance for the next couple of weeks. Then in mid-May, about 2-3 weeks out from the marathon, they'll begin to taper (reduce the weekly mileage, cut way back on the distance of the long runs) and arrive at marathon day well rested and ready to attack to the race course.

I wasted my taper time getting injured. Instead of taking a break before the race, I'm going to try rebuilding my mileage from where I am now and hopefully get up to 18 miles range the week before the race. It's not ideal, but it's the best I can manage with the time that's remaining.

So what was that injury all about?
In a nutshell, crappy biomechanics. From the look on Tiffany's face (chiropractor extraordinaire -- she had this diagnosed perfectly from the beginning), this was only a matter of time and I think she was surprised only that it took so long to happen. I don't *think* I'm one of those truly awful looking runners who spastically fling their arms around, or slap the pavement in a duck-footed stride. However, everything from the top of the my spine to below my knees is out of whack, with bones and muscles all twisted and pulled in ways that aren't intended. And basically my right hip flexor felt like it had been taking for the team for far too long. Point taken. Treat hip flexor more kindly in the future.

One month, a thousand variables

The marathon is four Sundays from now, and things are not looking ideal for me. I haven't blogged this season of training (maybe that was the crucial mistake!) so allow me to run the highlight reel:

Snowiest winter ever
This fact was confirmed by the National Weather Service, but anyone training outside this winter didn't need the bulletin. How many times did I find myself outside, in a blizzard, trying to figure out how even the sidewalk was beneath the snow drifts, snot frozen on my face, barely achieving a walking pace while fighting against the wind? The answer is many, many times.

No fear=no motivation
Last year's training was predicated on the mystery of whether or not I would actually be able to complete the race. Every run had some urgency and necessity behind it. This year, the necessity remained but the urgency was gone. Aloof is a good way to put it. Delusional is another - there's no guarantee I'm going to cross the finish line this year.

A little experience is a dangerous thing
I tried to make up for the lackluster pace of my early winter training by poring it on in the middle weeks of the training schedule. I counted a little too much on the reassurance that having done this once, I can manage to do again. I undertrained, then overtrained, then got injured.


And now for the current update:

On April 5, I ran the Burlington "Unplugged" 1/2 marathon and came in with a time that I was truly ecstatic about: 2 hours 24 minutes 55 seconds. This is 11 minutes faster than my time in this race last year: I ran steady 11 minute miles the whole way through, and that was after running two miles from my house to the starting line. It was a GREAT morning.

Until about 15 minutes after the race ended when I realized the pain in my right hip wasn't going away and stretching didn't help. Later that day I walked 3 miles (to make up the 18 miles I was due to run), but the stiffness and soreness weren't going anywhere. I woke up the next several mornings pretty much unable to walk like a normal human being -- lots of dramatic limping and demanding calls to physical therapists to get appointments. Copious amounts of Advil, heat, ice, garlic, rosaries....

After numerous opinions, many of them conflicting, I ended up taking off about two weeks from doing any exercise. Then I slowly started up with micro-mini runs on the elliptical machines at the gym, tentative run-walks outside, lots of heat, still more Advil. Days rolled by with very little training getting accomplished as my fellow runners talked about 18-mile and 20-mile routes. I seriously questioned whether I could start the race, let alone finish.