The blue terror has earned its name pretty well. I bought the bike from a nice guy and his wife on Craigslist. I know, I know, I heard the lectures about buying a bike from some place other than a shop, but y'all, there was just no way I was going to afford a half IM worthy bike from a store. Even used.
I stalked Craigslist for a couple days, asked around about a couple bikes, but nothing was just right. I'd already gone down to a bike shop with the help of Blair, and learned roughly what I needed.
The post came up, a 52cm women's road bike. Hardly used. Upgraded brakes. Turns out the guy selling it bought it for his wife, she took it out for the first time clipped in...and then promptly ate it (as everyone does when they go clipless). She took the hit so hard that she bent the right side of the handle bar. Shortly thereafter, she got pregnant. You can imagine how the conversation went regarding the bike. Original owner: 0, Blue Terror: 1.
So, I took it for a ride and, knowing precisely 0 about bikes, bought it.
Second owner: 0, Blue Terror: 2
The first time I clipped in, I actually did not fall. I will admit that it was a terrifying day of being about 2-3 minutes behind my team at all times, and every time I had to clip out, I had a mild panic attack and jumped off my bike. Yup. You read that right. Jumped off of it.
I didn't fall that ride. Instead, my legs gave out while I was getting off my bike and talking to my coach and THEN I ate it.
Mia: 0, Blue Terror: 3
The next time I went out with my team, we were near traffic. This was a HUGE mental block for me. I'm really careful to notice bikes, but what about other people out enjoying their Saturdays? Fat chance. We actually did fairly well until a cop pulled over part of our team to scold us for slowing instead of stopping at a stop sign with no other traffic. She had the nerve to tell us that we were the reason motorists hated cyclists...
Honey, have you worked in Dupont?
Regardless, I was catching up with my team and went to stop, but left too much weight on my clipped foot and just went right over. It does feel just like slow motion. I left bloody palm prints on my handle bars that morning.
Mia: 0, Blue Terror: 4
When I got back from my group ride, my coach made me practice clipping in and out over and over and over again. I had a total freak out. God bless my coach she pulled a total parent move on me. I know that tone of voice. She held my bike upright and made me practice in out in out in out. I was shaking and she said "Calm down. You can do this." And she's right...I could! Tentative victory!
Then I had to clip in and ride a little in the grass, unclip and get off and do it again. I fell the second time. Ouch, but less painful on grass versus pavement. Slightly more tentative victory!
Thus was the pattern for several weeks.
And then, one miraculous morning, I got up, got my bike on the car and drove to Haines Point. The gates were still closed, so after I wobbled off, clipped in, I had to jump a small curb (ACK) and make a quick wiggle around a post (AAAHHHHH) and go back down a curb (UGCK). This started out nicely enough
Mia - .5, Blue Terror: 4
Somewhere around my second lap, my legs were crapping out. Everyone else looked like they were sailing past me. Well, not looked like...they WERE. So, I stopped, put air in my tires*, and continued. No dice. 12 miles ish in an hour.
(* wait for it...wait for it...scroll down...)
Two weeks ago, I go out for my first big brick workout. I am SO excited. I go for my 10 mile run, come back, all excited about a 30 mile bike. My plan was to do two out and backs on the Capital Crescent. 7 miles out, kids were passing me on bmx bikes. No joke.
I stopped, almost threw my bike over the trees and texted Alicia:
"Chadd doesn't have his phone, so I'm telling you this. I'm on the Capital Crescent Path, I'm about 7 miles into 30 and I feel like total shit. If I don't text you by noon, please call me."
To the credit of the amazing Alicia, she offered to come pick me up. I made my first 15 mile loop, swearing, huffing, puffing, and all but ready to give up. I rolled up to Coach and told her that I was going abysmally slow. Even for someone who just ran 10 miles. I had this mental image of being the last swimmer out of the water at Patriots and then having the sag wagon pick me and the Blue Terror up at mile 15 on the bike. She squeezed my back tire. "*That's flat." "Oh." Mia - 0, Blue Terror: 5 (See below on my critical mistake on how to inflate your tires) Tire pumped, legs still on fire from my accidental 15 mile slog, Coach sent me back out for 5 miles, to Haines Point and back. Huzzah! I'm flying! Garmin is reading 17-19 miles an hour. WOOHOOO. Annnnnd that was the last time I got out on the bike due to heat, fear of traffic, or that one time when I ate it on the pavement a mile into my run on my brick workout and had to call it a day.
The Blue Terror and I did sit on the demon trainer from hell yesterday and managed to put a nice black mark on the carpet (redecorating, the triathlete way!) but for now, we have a tentative agreement. If we stay off the demon trainer and keep air in the tires, we'll both be a lot happier.
I recently wrote an email to my Ragnar New York Team about Ragnar and with a bunch of people asking me more and more about it (and why I love it) I figured I'd post the letter here, modified for general Ragnar.
The Basics
Each Ragnar is a point-to-point race of roughly 200 miles. Teams can be comprised of either 6 runners (ultra) or 12 (regular). Most teams run as a regular team.
Van 1 will have runners 1-6 and Van 2 will have runners 7-12. Both vans will meet at the start line where Van 1 will check in. Different teams start at different times, based on their estimated pace. My team usually has an early start time so we can take our time and enjoy ourselves down the course. People who take this race seriously (few and far between) tend to have start times later in the day.
After runner 1 starts, Van 1 will drive to exchange 1 and wait for runner 1/drop off runner 2 and move along to exchange 2. Rinse and repeat through runner 6. While someone in your van is running, the van stops to support that runner, as long as it's allowed. Most legs allow for support - Ragnar will list the leg as "non-support" if vans cannot access the runner, or if it's unsafe for vans to pull over. Support means either stopping to give them water, food, gatorade, or just cheer and wave frantically while they run by. Ragnar even gives you nifty orange safety flags which make for excellent interpretive dancing.
While Van 1 is running, Van 2 drives from the start line to Major Exchange 6 where they will check in and wait for Van 1's runners to finish. Major Exchanges are the only places were both vans are allowed into the parking lot. These major exchanges are 6, 12, 18, 24, 30, and obviously the finish line.
Each van will be "running" 3 times - so everyone runs 3 legs. It's important to know, too, that if you are runner 4, you have to run legs 4, 16 and 28 (you can't pick and choose singular legs).
The Running
Ragnar is largely on paved roads, so you don't need to worry about very technical trail running. Occasionally, runners will be on gravel roads and very rarely on trails. In the five I've done, I have yet to see a trail that was so difficult that I'd suggest wearing anything but basic running clothes/shoes.
A note on difficulty: the Ragnar "difficult" descriptions are slightly misleading. They're done largely by distance. Look at the map for the elevation chart to get a better picture of how difficult the leg will actually be.
Running/walking/skipping/crabwalking/etc. is all totally awesome. We'll settle for any type of forward locomotion, really. Ragnar is more of an experience, less of a race. If you want to train for it, I suggest becoming very comfortable with distances ranging between 3 and 6 miles. Once you have your leg assignment, work on being comfortable with doing those distances on no sleep. Kidding (ok, not kidding), but really, as long as you feel comfortable run/walking the distances associated with your runner number, you'll be awesome. You may or may not see a lot of runners on the course, it just depends on when we start and how fast or slow the people are around us. In my opinion, one of the best things about Ragnar is that you do get to see and interact with other runners, but mostly, it's a beautiful solo run through new territory. If you find that you are uncomfortable running at night, you do have the option to have one of your vanmates run with you (though, you need to have a willing vanmate for this one). This only applies during night hours - you cannot have a pacer during daylight hours. Ragnar does allow bikes on trails, during night hours only. We brought a bike our first year and it just wasn't worth it because we never used it and it was a hassle.
If you are picky about what you wear while running, I'd suggest getting used to wearing a reflective vest, a tail light (red LED) and a headlamp (or carrying a flashlight). These items are required by Ragnar during night hours (which are usually around 7-7, pending time of the year). If you are not in safety gear while running, the team is given one "strike." Three strikes - you're asked to leave the course. If you are NOT running during night hours, you are still required to wear a reflective vest. Tired people driving huge vans in the middle of the night + non reflective person = bad. Tip on the headlamp: wear it over a hat. Petzel sells pretty good ones for about $20 and it's always nice to have your own headlamp unless you like sharing sweaty headbands.
The Not Running
But what in the world do I do while my van is NOT running? First of all, probably eating. You'll eat a lot, though I advise against 3 sloppy joes (apparently outside of the south, these are called steamers?) and ice cream at the same time (now would be the time for an emoticon that barfs). There will also be some hanging out, talking with other teams, taking pictures, and sleeping. Sometimes a major exchange will have showers so you can be clean for at least a couple minutes. Major exchanges tend to be at high schools, churches, YMCAs, or other community based locations. These places go out of their way to be hospitable and often times sell food as fundraisers. Interacting with the local community is such a great part of Ragnar that I promise you won't be bored while you're hanging out and waiting for the other van.
The Creative Stuff
Ragnar encourages letting your [creative] juices flow. Team names are usually hilarious (there was a team in California of Indian guys who called their team "Curry in a Hurry"), inappropriate (DC has the "Sofa Kings"), or both...for example: Flaccid Placid would be totally expected in New York. The more creative, the better. Teams usually make team shirts, come up with nicknames, decorate their vans, have costumes, etc.. Ragnar facilitates best name/best costume/etc. voting among the teams at the end of the race and it's always fun to be a crowd favorite.
Essentially: Ragnar is a crazy running party. What fun is a plain, white, 12-person van? (Don't answer that.) Decorating a van, even just with window paint, is super fun. (And it's easier to find your van at the major exchange - major bonus - there can literally be hundreds of vans at exchanges).
If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you’ve
witnessed first hand that I have body image issues. That’s a really dramatic
sentence for a very low-drama reality. I mean really, in honesty, don’t most 20-something women have body issues?
I’ve had my share of frustrating shopping trips, poked
at every area of my body before walking around in a swimsuit. I’ve pulled and
pushed my stomach to figure out which way I look best. I’ve dieted, I’ve lost a
lot of weight and I’ve gained weight. And through all of that, I’ve dealt with
the mind games we play with ourselves. “If I just lost x pounds…if I looked
like x super model…”
Let me tell you what you already know: it’s all crap.
The other night, I came home from the gym and was about to
grab a shower. I shrugged my shirt off and flexed my arms in the mirror. Instead of jumping to
criticism, for some reason, this time I smiled and turned so I could see my
back in the adjoining mirror. I repeated this process head to toe standing there
in my running capris and sports bra. Sure, I could drum up some criticism, but why? Instead of hitting myself with negative
comments, I looked at myself proudly. Damn. I look strong.
And a word about shopping and fashion...This skinny jean fad is pretty much crap. Y’all, I am
tired of saying to sales people and my shopping buddies “yeah, no on the skinny
jeans. I have big legs” and getting this response “oh stop, you are so thin.”
I’m not saying I won’t wear skinny jeans because I think I'm fat. I’m saying I won’t wear skinny jeans because honey, these legs run
marathons. I have a lot of strong, powerful, sexy muscle in my legs and I’m not
ashamed of it. I’m proud of it because I worked for it. I don’t want skinny legs, mine are just fine,
thanks. It would be really awesome if fashion decided to ditch the skinny jean
fad, though. Can’t a girl get a normal
cut jean in one of those awesome colors? Who wants to have “matchstick” legs
anyway. Eww.
I have always been concerned about my arms. You know that girl who worries about her arms in photos? That was me. But
now, I look at my arms and I thank swimming. They haven’t gotten
smaller, they’ve gotten stronger. My shoulders have gotten broader and stronger. And when I’m a half mile away from shore
in my half IM, I will be very very grateful for all that muscle and power and
strength.
For the first time in my adult life, I’m not thinking (or
caring) about what I weigh or what size pants I’m wearing. I care about how
fast I run, how strong I can swim, and whether or not I’m going to eat it on
the bike (odds are currently 3-1 on eating it). I have no idea what I weigh and I literally have 4 different sizes in my closet (and I fit in all of them. A size label doesn't define you). I strongly suggest you put yourself on the road to finding that self acceptance. It is an astounding freedom.
I care about my performance, my health, my strength…not so
much that I’m not a waifish stick figure. I’ve actually even begun to find it
unattractive and unappealing in fashion magazines to see size 00 women. And wouldn't you know...I haven't been sick (aside from the Noro Virus) in months.
If you’ve fallen into the “if I lose weight I will run
faster” mindset, do yourself a favor and please read my teammate Victoria’s
blog post about Weight Versus Running Speed and do some reevaluation.
So how do you get to this magical head space? The secret is not to run out and sign up for a half Ironman,
nor is it to get to a point where you’re happy with your body and work like hell to stay there. It's to focus on the positive. For me, it took signing up for a half Ironman to rob me of any time for negative thought. All I can think about (and really, WANT to think about) in my spare time is how to train, when to train, gear I want need, workouts, food, etc. etc. etc. There's no time for negativity and I'm kicking myself that it's taken this long to get here.
Take a moment and promise yourself that at least once today, you'll stop a negative body image thought and replace it with something physical about your body that you're proud of.
Being comfortable in your own skin is really worth it.
On May 4th, I was halfway to Cincinnati when my
phone buzzed. We were stoped at a gas station that proclaimed a very
bastardized acclamation of the Gospel (sorry to anyone but rich, white landowners,
heaven, apparently, just ain’t for you!). I was basically in nowheresville.
I checked my email, expecting spam or work and instead saw
this:
From: Ironman 70.3 National Harbor
Subject: Important Event News
You tell me what you think when you see that. I had two
thoughts: 1) I probably need to request a start time or something. 2) The race
is cancelled.
#2 was the correct gut feeling. This was the content of the
email:
Dear Ironman 70.3 National Harbor Athlete,
The inaugural Ironman 70.3 National Harbor Triathlon has
been cancelled. Athletes registered for the event will receive a full refund of
their entry and processing fees.Refunds will be issued within 30 days and will be credited
to the card used for registration through the Active Network.
Ironman is committed to helping participants reach their
goal of racing an Ironman 70.3 in 2012 and will further offer each athlete
impacted by the cancellation a $50 discount to one of the events listed below:
[Blah blah blah list of races and how to re-register]
Thank you for your understanding and patience through this
process. We wish you the best of luck with your training and racing.
I’ll leave the commentary to other bloggers who have better
deconstructed this quick cancellation, but I can tell you what I thought: nothing.
I was so caught up in the travel to Cincinnati that I
literally had 0 concern for this. I was really lucky. I got on the phone with
my coach immediately who, of course, already knew about the cancellation. She
encouraged me to not worry about it, that she already had some options lined up
for me, and that we’d talk about those after Flying Pig – but not now. In case
you were ever considering getting a coach, this is one of those top 5 reasons
to have one.
I will admit that I did spend a good portion of the drive
wondering why. Having worked in PR before, this hasty cancellation without
explanation was driving me mad. I knew something else was behind it. Coach
mentioned the National Harbor’s bad rap for hosting races (anyone remember the
Hot Chocolate 15k?)
I also remembered the problems that DC Rainmaker had when
he previewed the course and that the Potomac has been worse and worse for race conditions (to the point
where swims are frequently cancelled).
When Coach said that this cancellation
was a good thing, I believed her. But my PR mind was still chugging. You only
send out bad news at 4pm on a Friday. Twitter rumors were swirling, lots of
finger pointing was going on, but in the end, this was the second email we
received, almost two weeks later:
Dear Athlete, The Ironman 70.3National Harbor Triathlon was cancelled
because not enough athletes were registered for the event.
Initially we kept quiet because Ironman asked us to stay
silent, not post anything on social media and not send out any press releases
so that the damage to Ironman’s brand would be minimized. We were fools to
agree and that was a big mistake on our part.
We should have communicated immediately and told you the
reason from the start. We have nothing to hide from the truth and were just
initially intimidated by Ironman's request.
We apologize.
I believe almost 90% of this. There’s something else, but it’s
neither here nor there.
I got an email from Coach the morning after my marathon and
reviewed my options:
Ironman 70.3 Timberman, New Hampshire
Patriot’s Half in Williamsburg, VA
Ironman 70.3 Austin
I also looked at the list and, at the urging of my twitter
friends, added two more to the maybe pile:
Ironman 70.3 Augusta
Beach to Battleship, North Carolina
I nixed Timberman pretty quickly. I don’t know New Hampshire
and it’s a long drive (flight?) and it just seemed like it may as well be in a
foreign country when you applied a half ironman to it. Austin is a bit late in
the season, and since I’m pretty sure I want to do Giant Acorn (how can you not
with a name like that?), it didn’t work. Especially not if I sign up for the
Richmond Marathon.
While I was batting around ideas for a new race with my
friends in Cincinnati, I floated Augusta. A friend said that the swim course
was the easiest for an Ironman – it’s in a river, with current. This was sorely
tempting to me, but pride beat me when the same friend said, “I hear that a
doritos bag made the swim in 45 minutes.” Pass.
Between B2B and Patriot’s I have two great options for a new
70.3. The only thing that stuck with me was that neither is Ironman branded. In
fact, Patriot’s is actually 2 miles longer (on the bike) than an IM 70.3.
I sat down and tried to deconstruct this one night on my
bike trainer. If you’ve been on a trainer at all, you’ll know that you do a lot
of thinking on that bastard piece of shit (read the link, trust me, you’ll die
laughing. Scroll down for description)
I realized after an hour of going no where (literally), that a brand name doesn’t
make the race. The effort and time and training I put into it makes it a race.
I started out with this thought process:
My heart says I should choose Patriots. Coach will be there,
Williamsburg is close, it’s cheaper than an IM race, and some of my teammates
are going. I should do Patriots.
But it’s not an IM branded race. Do I care? I feel like I should
care. You were in marketing. You realize that this is basically just good
marketing. It’s 2 miles longer than an IM. That makes it more badass. They
should make magnets specifically for this one. 72.3. “Well, yes, I’ve done a
half IM, but it was 2 miles longer.” This isn’t my only 70.3. This is a good
first one. Admit it, you had nightmares about T1 from National Harbor.
But what about Augusta? That’s close to my folks. But then
you’ll have done the easiest of the half IMs. Pansy. No, not pansy. Half IM. I
hate my bike trainer. This thing is a piece of crap. Why am I on this bike? I
could give up training right here, right now. I could just quit while I’m ahead
with a sub 4 marathon. That’s pretty beast.
After a lot [more] of inner monologue, which I will spare you, I
came to the conclusion that a brand doesn’t make a race any more or less
awesome. Ironman or not, I’m doing a 7[2].3 and what will make that race badass
is that I will have trained and poured myself into that accomplishment.
How about you? Does race branding matter to you? If so, why?
If you follow me on Twitter, then you already know my big
news:
3:57:15
That is 2 minutes and 45 seconds under 4 hours. It’s also 10
minutes and 49 seconds faster than my last marathon.
I’ve had so much to say about this last weekend that I’ve
put off writing this blog post in hopes that it would just write itself, but it’s
not gonna happen like that and I don’t want to forget anything. I finally just
wrote down an outline and now I’m going to get to it on my lunch break.
The Trip to Cincinnati
I have the incredible fortune of being part of the Ragnar
family. I have a network of teammates who are basically as nuts as I am. When I
posted on Facebook that I was considering doing Flying Pig, four of my
teammates were immediately registered and on board. We picked up some other
Ragnarians and were suddenly 7 on our way to Cincinnati.
We rented a Ragnar van (that I can’t park very well)
Ragnar Van
And made the 10 hour trip to Cincinnati. We talked, laughed, played apples to apples, slept, ate, stopped to pee and I felt like I'd known these people all my life. There was a lot of flying tulle since we were also all making our tutus. We got into Erlanger, Kentucky at some god awful hour in the night after some pro rain-driving by Renee.
Our hotel was basically between Cincinnati and the place that God forgot. Don't get me wrong, the people in Erlanger are wonderfully hospitable, but there is precisely 1 gas station, 2 motels, a biker bar called Peecox and a Waffle House.
Peecox
The Expo
On Saturday, after a butter filled breakfast at Waffle House (thank God I had a little exercise planned for the weekend), we headed out to Cincinnati (about 20 minutes away) to pick up our packets.
Ragnar Ambassadors!
I have to congratulate the Flying Pig on their organization. We found parking easily and popped in. I didn't wait in line for a single thing. We picked up packets, took pictures with pig statues:
Pigippides!
We walked through a lot of great vendors. My haul included:
- Flying Pig Pearl Izumi Cycling Jersey
- Flying Pig "Piglitically Correct" mug
- Flying Pig pint glass
- Flying Pig T-Shirt
- "Multi-Talented Swim Bike Run" bamboo shirt
- Pocket bra (for those hours on the bike trainer when I want a place for my phone)
- Gus, Body Glide, and a blister kit (this will be a big mistake)
- MORE sweaty bands (seriously, it's an addiction, y'all)
At the end of the expo, you pick up your tech shirt, the duffle bag, and a marathon poster - great race swag.
Pre-Race Day
At this point, we were all hungry and tired and needed to get off our feet, put food in our mouths and get back to resting. So Cheesecake Factory and back to the hotel for beers and sitting outside while I finished my tutu.
Not my tutu - but Renee's prototype is pretty awesome
At this point, I was starting to get nervous. Like I said prior to the marathon, I felt like I hadn't worried enough for there to be a marathon just around the corner. I kept telling myself that in 24 hours, I'd be in a van driving back home, this awesome weekend would be coming to a close and that all I had to do was run for 4 hours. Everyone else went for dinner at the Peecox, but I moved into my solo hotel room, organized for the morning and went out for a walk.
I found myself in a little glen. The Super Moon was out, the silence was only disturbed by the quiet hush of the highway and evening bird calls, and the light was just finishing fading.
I stood there for a good 15 minutes. I prayed aloud. I walked in circles. I did little jogs back and forth. I stood in silence and this is what came to me:
I am blessed to be able to run. I am blessed to be in Cincinnati with good friends. This weekend has been an amazing break from reality and all too soon, it will be over. The training is over and the race is here and at this point, all I can do is run. That was Chadd's advice to me before my first marathon and I've held on to it since: it's just running.
I tucked into bed and thought about writing a blog post, but eventually decided it wasn't worth the time. No use spending time worry about what is already done. In a marathon, the race is never about the actual race - it's all about the training.
Race Day
Race morning came and we piled into the van around 5:30. We got there with plenty of time to spare. We all dawned our tutus, body glided, and went to the bathroom a couple million times. I felt an amazing sense of calm through the morning. It didn't hurt that I was with multi-marathoners who were calm and collected. My friends had been right - not having a race crew is sometimes a great thing. I wasn't worried about where someone needed to be or how they were feeling or if I'd see them along the course. Instead, I was focused on how amazingly short the portapotty lines were (again, nice going Flying Pig).
Justin and Jason
Matchy Matchy
Justin, Me, Ayla, Amanda, Renee, and Jason (sans Jerry)
Ayla and I jumped into the "Pen" and waited for the gun. When we lurched forward, I ran through all the things my coach and I had talked about:
The Race
The first 9 miles I was to stay behind the 4 hour pace group. If they came out too fast, I should let them go, but keep them as a beacon. I stayed about 30-50 seconds behind the pink balloons. Every time I edged up to them, I forced myself back. I'm certainly glad I did because FPM is not a course to plan to bank time. The course is gorgeous - you go over a bridge into Kentucky, then back into Cincinnati over another bridge. Incredibly soon, there you are at the 6 mile point, where every runner feels that sickness in the pit of their stomach. The hill.
At the turn to 6, there was a "Squealer Party Zone" where volunteers and other supporters are stationed, screaming and cheering. Everyone loved my tutu. I mean, how can you not? Everyone started chanting "PINK TU-TU! PINK TU-TU!" So, naturally, I started blowing kisses. I was kind of a ham (har har har, see what I did there.)
At this point, I was supposed to be at 1:00. I was at 0:57. Uhhhoh. But...here comes that hill. I figured I'd worry about those 3 minutes after I climbed.
I was shocked at how easy the 3 mile climb was. First, the idea that it's a 3 mile climb straight is false. You climb, you level off, you climb, you level off, then suddenly, you're almost to 9 and it's over. Somewhere in there, a retirement home was blasting No Sleep Till Brooklyn:
RIP MCA
Yeah, you tell me that doesn't make you want to run faster.
After the climb, you find yourself at the top of the hill and you can see out into a vista. It's breathtaking, really. The river, the hills, all sprawling before you. 100% worth the climb. It's almost like an easter egg the race director planted out there. If you make it through this hill, you'll see something so beautiful it'll take your breath away...if the hill hasn't already done that.
My next check-in was at the half point. By this time, the half marathoners had veered off (just around 9) and I realized I was in sub 9s. I looked up to check in with the 4 hour pace group and couldn't see them anywhere. I checked my watch. I should have been at 1:59:00, instead, I was closer to 1:57:30. Not too shabby. I kept trying to look ahead of me around a curve. Where the hell was the four hour pace group, where was my beacon?
Then I turned around. They were behind me. Coach had said at the half point, if I found the 4 hour group to be annoying, crowded or the wrong pace, I could ditch them.
So I did.
My next check point came in at mile 18. These 5 miles were actually great - there's a small township where you do a loop of some description. The crowds are raucous (holy crap, the Lulu Lemon girls were nuts!), the sport was amazing, the bands between songs cheered out "NICE TUTU!" I felt like a freaking champion and I was loving my run.
18 came around and I was supposed to be at 2:43:00. Instead, I was somewhere in the late 2:30s. With the next check point being 22, this is the hardest point in the race for me, mentally. I have to give mad props to the cheer section at 18 - the parrotheads were great. This section of the race featured a long highway. I said to myself over and over again, "It's just 4 miles" (Thanks for the mantra, coach!) My borrowed gps watch was telling me I was holding an average 8:47. I started saying aloud, "I've got this. I feel good. I feel so good. This is going to be amazing." In reality, I was fighting the "You're going to hit a wall. You've only trained to 18.5. You don't know what's going to happen."
Then 22 appeared. 4.2 miles to go. This was my check point. I was supposed to be at 3:20, I was closer to 3:15. The negativity shut off. Hyper drive kicked in. I will do this. I am going to do this. I am doing this. Tuesday's Runner's World quote reminded me precisely of the clarity I felt in that moment:
It's an odd thing, when your body says no and your mind and your spirit say yes. It's frightening and empowering and clarifying and beautiful all at once. It was the past year of my life, shortened into a span of 26.2 arduous miles. It was the culmination of experiences, the knowledge that my body can be pushed past its breaking point, just like my heart.
Around 23, I saw a guy who was struggling. Pain was all over his face and his form was in pieces. I slowed down beside him to walk. I talked to him for a bit, learned it was his first marathon and remembered just how badly I hurt at the 3 miles to go point. I cheesed out on him, but when you're at this point in a marathon, it was all I had. I asked him if I could tell him what got me through my marathons and he said please.
"When I don't think I can do it anymore and when my body hurts so badly, I have to remember that eventually, I won't be able to do this anymore. This pain is a good thing. So, even though we don't WANT to do this today, there will come a day when we can't do this anymore. And that isn't today."
It's the bastardized version of my favorite mantra: "There will come a day when I cannot do this. Today is not that day."
I patted his back and went on ahead. There is such a community and connection among runners at this point in a race. The love and hope and fear you all feel is tangible. And it sounds corny to say, but I have never felt more connected to people in my life than I do in those last miles. Delusion? Probably.
Mile 24 crested ahead of me. 2.2 miles. I had 20 minutes left and I was still running 8:48s.
Mile 25. Hail Marys are literally pouring out of my mouth. The crowds were getting thick and marathoners who had finished were walking back to cheer on friends. "You can do it. You are almost there, it's just over the hill."
I so appreciated that FPM had a "1 mile to go sign" at 25.2. Forgive the language, but when I hit that sign, I ran like a mother fucker.
My last mile was an 8:51.
When the finish line came into site, I had over 5 minutes to kill. By the time I got to the 26 mile marker, tears were streaming down my face. I was either entirely deaf to the crowds or deafened by them. I think the best comparison is like hearing while being under water.
The race director stands in the middle of the road, giving out high fives and congratulations as your cross the first timing mat. The announcer calls out every runner's name. I heard "Amelia Rommel!" and I looked at my watch: 3:57:33.
I stopped, hands on my knees and totally lost my shit.
A friend on twitter recently wrote,
Saying "I did this great thing because I am great" is different from saying "I'm proud I was able to do this thing I found difficult." - Paul
And that is honestly how I feel. I finished in sub 4, not because I am awesome or any more special than anyone else, but because I worked through something difficult. I trained in the cold, the rain, and the snow. I went to track practice when I'd rather have been drinking beer. I laced up my shoes and met my team at the asscrack of dawn on the weekends to run hills.
I called Chadd, my parents, my coach, crying and snotty. I went and found my teammates who had done the half and had beer and lounged in the sun.
Still standing!
Lounging and BEER
As we piled into the car and headed home, I realized that for the first time immediately after a marathon, I wanted to do another one.
So maybe the third time is a charm. The first marathon, you don't remember, the second, you're miserable, and the third you fall in love.
Congratulations to all my fellow runners at the FPM and thanks to FPM for a great race!
I've just been a terribly non responsive member of society lately. Aside from my day job, most emails have gone unsent, volunteer work has not been done, planning or writing or anything has been on hold.
Why?
I don't know. It's like I suddenly stopped caring. Perhaps I reached that edge where having a lot on my plate was suddenly not a motivator and instead, it was a paralyzing factor. Or maybe it's because I really enjoy training and after I train, all I want to do is sit on my butt and think about training/watch tv. Whatever the reason, if my begging off on my friend/volunteer/teammate/anything duties affected you, I'm sorry. I came home on Monday night and had a small cry about how I let everyone down and all this that and the other. Chadd got ready to go to the gym, told me to make a list, lock the cats out and just go one by one down my task list. It's embarrassing how little time it took to do everything.
So, now that I've put my big girl panties on, it's time to talk about a big event that is happening in 3 days:
My third marathon.
I chose the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati because...I have no idea why (honestly). My recollection is that part of it was timing (late Spring marathon!), part of it was that Runner's World said it would be fun (if you love hills!), and partly because I had just spent too much time at the Marine Corps Marathon Expo when picking up my 10k bib.
This has been a really weird pre-race experience. It's all jumbled in my head, so let's try to break it down:
1) One is the Loneliest Number. This is the first time I'm doing a major race (read: marathon) without support crew. The first time, my mom, my then boyfriend, and Chadd were there. My second marathon, Katie and Chadd came out...but this time...it's me and the road.
I totally underestimated how awesome it is to have crew. During the RnR National Half, I saw Chadd at 6, accidentally saw Cyndi at 10, and my coach just after 12. And every time I got tired between those, I started to think about how I would see someone soon and that powered me on. This is not to discount the friends I'm going with (including Justin, Ayla, and Amanda - some of my Ragnar rocks). But these amazing friends will be running their own races.
2) Holy Hills, Batman. So, in a moment of true intelligence, I didn't look at the course elevation profile prior to registering. And now that I've looked at it, I have the pre-race nervous pees. I'm amazing with rolling hills. Probably because of my spinning, I'm totally cool with glorious rolling hills. May go towards explaining why I loved the RnR National Half course. What I do not particularly love is a 3+ mile incline. This gives me flashbacks to Ragnar PA where I had 10+ miles up Mt. Pocono. There is actually a photo of me somewhere slumped on the ground, considering death after that.
Ah. There they are.
Y'all. My COACH had a temper tantrum in 2010 when she did this race. Granted, she also placed second in her age group...but, yikes. The positive to this is that my coach knows this race and has been able to give me a lot of insight into it. We've agreed that I shouldn't go out trying to bank time in the first half. Instead, I'm going to hold a 9:30 for the first half, check my watch at the 10k, the half, the 18 and the 22. The back half of the race is my strong suit - again, cue rolling hills.
3) As in...Sub-4. This may have been the wrong race to try and have such a strong PR. But I WANT that sub 4. I mean, that's the real reason I'm running another marathon (or that's my publicly facing reason, I could keep a shrink in business forever if we went into my addiction to endurance sports).
I keep telling myself that the last marathon I did, I did not run a smart race. I ran without regard for strategy. I got a late start in the wrong corral, I fought my way back to my group and was totally spent by 20.
4) Bigger, Better, Faster, Stronger. It's weird to have a marathon simultaneously be a non-event and cause me anguish. I've been impressively nonchalant about it in the past months. Mostly because I spend all of my anxiety time thinking about the 70.3 in August. Maybe it's also because I've distracted myself with unemployment, two job changes, and a bunch of other stuff. It's not like worrying MORE about a marathon makes it easier. It's not like this is a part of training, but in the back of my mind I feel like I'm behind on worrying. It's almost like I haven't gotten over my worry process and now I'm not going to be prepared.
In reality, I should be confident. I haven't been worried because I have this awesome thing called a coach. Coach T has taken all the pressure off of me because all I have to do is what she says. And I've done just that. I haven't been sore after any of my runs. I have comfortably held 9:30's and below on all my training runs. I need a steady 9:07 to pull this out of the bag, which means I trained at the right pace and I should be able to pull out a sub 4. I will run a smart race because I was smart when I was training.
5) The Future. Unlike the last two times I've trained, I haven't gotten sick of training. Sure, I wasn't stoked about going out for 18 miles, but it's not been the same imposition as it's been in the past. I've actually enjoyed it. I'll credit my coach with a big part of this. I've already started thinking about marathons for the fall if I don't hit sub-4 (and let's be honest...even if I DO hit sub 4...). So, unlike the last times where I've had goals (a time goal AND a goal to never do a marathon again if I made my goal), this time I just have one goal: sub 4. And if I don't make it, I just have to try again.
So, in just 3 days time, you will see a very brief post. It will hold the results and probably another marathon goal - sub-4 or not.
Let me know if you'll be in Cincinnati! I'd love to say hi!
The next installation of Running Fears is an important one to me...mostly because I just remembered how scary this fear can actually be as I was getting comfortable swimming with you semi-aquatic people out there. So, enjoy...
2) Are other runners are judging me? Will people laugh at me? I’m so slow, are the running articles/clothes/shoes/accessories/products even made for people like me?
No. No. Yes.
This was basically the resounding follow up fear to problem one. I have a whole lot of theories on this, but I think the best and most simple way to say it is that this fear comes out for all of us whenever we do something new. Remember when I was learning to swim laps? I seriously over-analyzed my plain black bathing suit like it held the secret to life.
We’re afraid to be judged while we’re learning. It’s my opinion that a lot of runners are Type A personalities because we like to be in charge and in control…but we’re also intensely afraid of criticism. I’m a very outgoing person, but if you put me in a room with a new task or skill to learn, I’m a shrinking violet until I can “own” being a newbie (talk about managing expectations). Running is an easy activity to pick up because it requires a pair of shoes (and depending on who you are, those are optional). And body glide. Trust me on the body glide.
“Anybody can be a runner. We were meant to move. We were meant to run.” – Bill Rodgers
It’s easy to judge yourself when you see other people out on the road. When I started running, I taught myself. I mean, clearly I knew HOW to run, but I didn’t know pacing, or breathing, or form, or any of those Runner Insider Club secrets. I watched svelte, even-breathed people sail by me while I chugged, red-faced and panting down the road. It’s easy to belittle yourself when it comes to a task without a set goal. You can win a tennis match, but you’ll always be in pursuit of a faster mile/better form/new PR. It’s the beauty and the terror of running. There is no finish line.
I don’t know a single seasoned runner who has ever looked at a new runner with disdain. I usually can’t tell (unless your nipples are bleeding through your shirt – dead giveaway because you’ll only make that mistake once). If I do see someone chugging along, looking pained and out of breath, I mentally cheer them on.
Generally speaking, people aren’t going to laugh at you. Runner’s laugh WITH each other. Case in point – I have a tendency to barf during Ragnar. Might have something to do with the temptation to each 3 sloppy joes and ice cream THEN run 8 miles. While I was throwing up for the millionth time behind a dumpster, I couldn’t help but laugh with my teammates.
Even that famous photo of the runner literally crapping themselves…sure, maybe non runners are laughing, but actual runners are going “oh shit…” [literally]. Like I said, we talk about poop a lot.
And yes. All the fun gadgets, clothes, and accessories for runners are made for all entry levels. May I strongly recommend The Stick? And Body Glide. A lot of Body Glide.
With a whole slew of my friends joining me in the dogged pursuit of runner-ness, I've had this post simmering in the back of my mind. I want to take this chance to say how proud I am of every single one of them - and not in a "proud coach" kind of way, but as a fellow runner. From experience, I know it’s not easy to get out of a warm and cozy bed, or give up a night out so you can get your miles in sans hangover and I think runners in general deserve a shout out for that kind of dedication.
I also want to bring up a couple things that I have seen and heard and struggled with myself in the hopes that this post will help someone, somewhere with these mental and physical hurdles. To do this, I dredged up the memories I had of learning to run and asked a couple runner friends to do the same. My friends have running careers spanning years to months, a variety of distances, and various lifestyles. The more I’ve worked on this post, the more I realized that it’s actually several posts…so, enjoy installation 1…
1) "I am not a runner"/"When can I call myself a runner?"/"I'm not a runner yet."
"If you are a runner, it doesn't matter how far or how fast. It doesn't matter if today is your first day or if you've been running for twenty years. There is no test to pass, no license to earn, no membership card to get. You just run." - John Bingham
The moment you put your shoes on and go for a run (please don't call it a jog), you're a runner. It's that easy. It could be a run around the block, 5 minutes on the treadmill, a 5k, a walk/run. But as soon as you achieve locomotion faster than walking, intentionally (running to catch a bus doesn't make you a runner, but runners do have a better chance of catching the bus), you are a runner.
When runners refer to themselves as a collective group it may sound a bit standoffish, but I promise you, that isn't our intent. We're just proud of ourselves. In case you weren't yet aware, runners have a bit of an ego because we spend hours a week telling ourselves "I can do it. I am awesome. That hill is toast. My legs are so strong. I've got this." Eventually, effective mantras produce a slight self-demi-god feeling. Runners gather because we like to talk to each other about running and shoes and PRs and our latest training run and our non-running friends and significant others are sick to death of hearing about it. I should also caution you that every conversation about running that lasts longer than 5 minutes also includes discussion of poop. If you can't discuss poop, hanging out with other runners may not be the best idea.
It surprises me sometimes that people are hesitant to feel that they're allowed to call themselves runners. I guess because there aren't try outs (something I went through for softball in high school...didn't make the team, btw)...I don't feel like anyone can or can't tell you that you're a runner. And really, runners like having more runners around. More people to talk to. And runners love to give advice. If you're feeling self concious - just say you're starting out. Ask a runner about when they started out and just step back and prepare for word vomit because damn do we talk.
Running is a confidence builder. Like I said above, we continually stream positive mantras in our head, so the more you run, the more confidence you will have. Own being a runner. Join us. And if you have joined us and don't feel like one of us, take this as a universal invitation to call yourself a runner and be proud. We're glad you're here.
Goodness. What happens when you go on vacation and come back to a new office policy banning social media (blogger included). I need to get better about finishing my posts at night instead of leaving the editing to the morning.
Anyway - Miami was great - thanks to everyone for your support and well wishes! We had an awesome time and Chadd did really well.
I have a post coming, probably this weekend, that I'm REALLY excited about, so maybe that will make up for the brevity of this post and the lack of posts for the past couple weeks.
Tonight is a random assortment of thoughts.
1) I really love Fitocracy. If you aren't on Fitocracy, you're missing out. It's basically a social media network for fitness people and I love it. And there's a forum that I totally love and am geeking out over. Here's the link to sign up - and we'll automatically follow each other. Leveling up is literally why I'll do another set of anything. And it's free. So, there's no reason to not do it.
2) I really love track practice. Since it's spring break, those pesky students aren't having games on the track (must you have spring sports?) so we don't have to run around a block. Tonight we did 4x1200s. Goal was to start slightly lower than threshold and get faster with each set. My times looked like this:
1 - 6:02
2 - 6:06 (oops)
Coach said before our third set that if we couldn't get faster on this third set, this would be our last set - no fourth set.
3 - 5:48 (f*ck yeah.)
4 - 5:49
One of the girls in my group said "there's no motivation like telling an endurance athlete 'you can't'" and isn't that the truth. I felt like I was freaking flying on those last two sets.
3) My coach is the greatest. We had our one on one tonight post track workout to go over the approach to the Flying Pig Marathon (more on that later), how things were going currently, and to hang out. I love the fact that my coach takes a very personal approach to training. We went to Rocklands BBQ and sat outside with our food and a beer. I mean, really. How do you not love a coach like that?? If you're training for any major event, I strongly recommend a coach (specifically, my coach) because it takes the pressure off, mentally. I am not responsible for coming up with my workouts and worrying about if they're the right ones or if I miss one what will happen. I am simply responsible for doing my best and keeping my coach informed. Talk about a load off of your shoulders.
4) My weekend workouts are making me scared excited...which I am dubbing scaxited. Go with me here. Saturday I have my first real brick workout - 1-1:15 group bike ride, 20-30 minute run. I am still scared of my bike even though I'm in love with it (in scove?). Fear is a powerful motivator so I'm really stoked to get on the bike and conquer gears and clipping in/out. And then Sunday, after I figure out how to fit in my Easter celebrations at the church, I have a 15-16 mile run. I am anticipating not feeling amazing on Sunday afternoon in terms of energy, but pretty freaking awesome in terms of perceived invincibility.
5) If you haven't read my how-to on track etiquette, please do. Or stay off the track before you or someone around you gets hurt. Also: DON'T TEXT MIDTRACK WORKOUT. Augh some people...
I don't know if that adage about how if sharks stop swimming they die is true or not, but let's pretend that it is.
I am so a shark in my life. I've talked over and over again about my worst habit: all or nothing, but this week is definitely right there with the NOTHING part of that all or nothing lifestyle.
I should start with a positive announcement. I'm going to Miami next week - Tuesday - Friday early morning. Why, you ask? Oh, I was missing Florida and thought some beach time would be good...and....
My boss very graciously gave me the time off to go watch Chadd compete. I won't be able to tell you what happens at trials until NBC says we can, but I can tell you this - I am so proud of Chadd. If you want to know what true dedication is, all you have to do is look at Chadd. After Metro Dash last May, he went all out. Working out, training, finding opportunities to practice a sport that is still rare. This isn't running, biking, swimming, aerobics, crossfit...it's a specialized practice with huge risk (see: our 6+ hours in the ER one night) and skill beyond my wildest imagination. He's spent countless hours in the gym, beating up his hands, his shoulders, everything. I thought losing toenails was awful...you should see the blood on his hands and fingers after working on the cliff hanger. And it's not just dedication, Chadd has a natural gift for this. To see him go to Miami and be given the time off to go with him is just a dream.
Wish him well next week! When we can tell you what happened, we will!
Back to rest week...
It's been a trip to have a rest week. And, even more strange, is that I think of a rest week being 5 workouts. Monday, I had a second rest day. Tuesday morning, I had to give up a morning workout (pool) because of our crazy thunderstorm. I'm not 100% certain, but at least in Florida, if there is electricity in the air, indoor or out, the pool is closed. I slept in. I had to stay crazy late at work, but I got my swim in.
PAUSE.
I swam...wait for it. 1.25 miles. Y'all, that is my long swim EVER. And it felt GREAT! I left the pool at 9:30, feeling not like I'd gotten my ass kicked, but that I'd OWNED that swim. Is it possible that I'm becoming a confident swimmer? I think so.
Resume.
Yesterday, I was going to sneak in my cycle workout, but by the time I got to my track practice happy hour, I knew it wasn't happening.
Tonight, I did get my 45 minute restorative spin in and it felt good. 45 minutes on a bike these days = nada.
I did an important thing today, though. I took my beautiful bike into a bike shop in Ellicott City - CycleSport. The shop comes recommended from one of the guys in my coach's tri programs who knows the owner. Adam did me a huge favor and reached out to Paul, the owner, and asked him to check out my bike personally.
I rolled my bike in during my lunch break and Paul came to check it out. "Wow" he said "a LaPierre, I haven't seen one of these in a while." OH? I asked if this was a good or bad thing and he said that LaPierre's are a great bike...and that buying it for $500 on Craiglist, especially for the shape it's in and the upgrades the previous owner did...I made out like a bandit.
He's putting white SPD pedals on my bike (TO MATCH) and is going to see if he can track down some pink handlebar tape for me.
If your bike needs a tune up, head out to Ellicott City and ask for Paul. I trust him, my teammates trust him, and when I get my bike back, I know it's going to be in slick shape.
This week may not be the most balls to the wall workout week, but I have my best friend ever, Katie, coming into town, Blair's wedding (!!!!) and Chadd heading to Miami on Sunday.
Unlike my last bust week, I feel good about this one. I'm still making the workouts happen, but this time, with an eye on real life getting in the way...and being ok with it.
Maybe I'm more like a dolphin. Still moving a lot, but I'm learning to not feel like I'm going to die (or slip on my training) when I have a rough week.
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