Final (?) Thoughts

Yesterday morning I did a gentle 3-mile run, my second since the marathon, and all seems to be well with the old legs. Aside from a bit of lingering fatigue, they've recovered quickly. Thanks, legs!

At the inspiration dinner the night before the race, one of the speakers (I can't remember which one) said something along the lines of, "The woman who begins training for a marathon is not the same woman who finishes training, and the woman who crosses the start line on race day is not the same woman who crosses the finish line." I think this statement is too strong for me -- I'm still very much Amanda -- but I can see where it's coming from. Training for the marathon has, at the very least, pushed the bounds of my persistence, my pain tolerance, and my ability to delay gratification (for example, my ability to tell myself, "Yeah, but you're going to be glad two months from now when race day rolls around!" while dragging my sleep-deprived self out of bed for a 5-mile run at 5:30am on a Thursday morning). I was pretty sure from the beginning that I would be able to run a marathon if I stuck with the training, but I didn't know if I would stick with the training. Unlike other accomplishment-oriented areas of my life, such as staying in school forever, it'd have been easier to quit at any given point than to keep it up -- training for a marathon has not been the path of least resistance. It's nice to see that I'm capable of sticking with something other than school, something that is challenging in ways I'm not used to being challenged.

It has been cool to have a goal, a sort of shape to my running. I've been running inconsistently since high school. It's been nice, for the first time, to have a good reason to run regularly, other than the vague idea that it's a good thing to do. It's eliminated much of what I dislike about running, which is the before-the-fact arguing with myself about whether to actually do it on any given day. For the most part, I've just gone out and done it, because that's what one does when training for a marathon. There's something I find satisfying, even comforting, about simply doing something because it's what I need to do, even when the something feels like not very much fun.

I think the most striking part of my experience with Team In Training was the fundraising. Asking people for money is not something I ever feel comfortable with, and I did it anyway -- without really believing that many people would actually respond. The generous response I received genuinely surprised me; I hadn't actually known how heard and supported I am. It also reminded me not to assume anything about other people's lives. Some of the most heartfelt emails and largest donations I received came from unexpected people: those I didn't know or hardly knew, those I thought didn't like me very much, those whose lives I would never guess had been affected by cancer. How amazing to realize, in such a tangible and undeniable way, that others also carry with them the triumph of cancer survival and the grief of loved ones lost to cancer. I love that my training for this marathon has served as sort of an organizing force for lots of people to gather together and make a collectively huge contribution to cancer research. Running a marathon might sound impressive, but for me, having raised several thousand dollars for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society is by far the bigger accomplishment.

Everyone wants to know whether I'll be running another marathon. I mean everyone, a bizarrely consistent response: I don't think a single person, after hearing about it, has failed to ask me whether I'll do another one. Fascinating. Anyway, the answer is, I don't know. I actually don't even know whether I'll keep running at all; maybe this will turn out to have been a way of tying up the running chapter of my life. Or maybe it will have been the start of a more consistent running career. I'm not going to push myself in one direction or the other; the best thing for me will make itself clear at some point. I think that if I do keep running at all, I will probably do more marathons. But I will only keep running if I derive enjoyment from it, or at least continue to crave it in that weird way that isn't quite enjoyment but is compelling nonetheless.

I also don't know what will happen next with this blog. For awhile it was a veggie blog, then a marathon blog... it is the chameleon of blogs. It has stages of development, just like a little human. Stay tuned if it suits your whim. But a hearty thanks to all of you who've been reading in the marathon phase. Lots of people have let me know that they are reading over the last few months, and this has made me very happy.

Race Report!

I DID IT!!

This was a seriously amazing weekend. I arrived in San Francisco with the Tucson team on Friday afternoon. The weather turned out to be gorgeous: not only was it not raining, it was actually sunny and warm. We took a shuttle to our hotel in downtown SF, which was about 3 blocks away from Union Square. Andrew, who had arrived in California the previous day to spend some time with his grandparents, met me at the hotel and we walked over to the race expo in Union Square. I picked up my race bib and some free stuff, but we didn't stay very long; it was loud and crowded. I was tempted by the free manicures they were offering, but the line was long and I was tired from my morning of travel. That evening, Andrew got together with his brother and cousins, while I had a nice dinner with my parents, stepparents, and baby bro.

Saturday, we had a short team run at 7am. Ten minutes down Market Street and ten minutes back. Coach Ashley told us to pay attention to what we were wearing on this little run, and that was great advice: I'd put on running pants and a sweatshirt, assuming that because it was SF, it would be cold -- and boy was I wrong! It was only a little cooler than Tucson and much more humid. This gave me confidence that my shorts and running jersey would be plenty warm for the race the next day. Later that morning, Andrew and I had a lovely brunch with one of my former Mills professors and her husband, and then we spent the afternoon strolling around the ferry building. I had been warned against doing too much walking that day, so we didn't stay out as long as we might have. That evening, we attended Team In Training's inspiration dinner at the Moscone Center. As we approached the entrance, we could hear a great din coming from within. It turned out that all of the hundreds of TNT coaches from around the country were lining the entrance, the big staircase, and the walkway into the huge dining hall, all cheering as loudly as they could for each entering team. It was kind of spectacular. After that, the dinner and the program were very nice, but the grand entrance was my favorite part. At the dinner, I learned that we TNT participants had collectively raised over $14 million for this event. There was a speaker named John Bingham, who was pretty funny, and a guest appearance by Joan Benoit Samuelson, the first female Olympic marathon champion. My fundraising mentor, Elsbeth, had very sweetly put together goody bags for all her mentees containing chapstick, cheerios, gum, and other useful things.

Race day. I'd slept reasonably well and was less nervous when I woke up Sunday morning than I had been for most of the preceding week. The team was convening at 5:45am to walk to the race start, so I got up at 5 to prepare myself, eat, and caffeinate. There are so many little details before a long run! In spite of having set everything out the night before, I still managed to forget my watch. Andrew was going to be taking a shuttle to several different points along the race, so I left him with a few things that I might want him to hand off to me: an extra packet of Sport Beans (the little pocket of my running shorts would only hold two), my Bodyglide, and a spare pair of socks. There would be the opportunity to check a bag before the race (i.e., with stuff to be brought to the finish line), so I brought with me a bag containing a some warm clothes and flip flops to change into after the run.

The race start was in Union Square, and with 20,000 runners, it was about as crazy as you might imagine. Reasonably well organized, though. I stuck with three folks from my team who run about the same pace as I do, and we had no trouble checking our bags, making a stop at the potties, and getting to the corral area for our pace. It was packed! Shoulder-to-shoulder runners squeezed into the streets. At least all those bodies helped keep us warm as we stood there waiting to start. We could hear the starting horn at 7am, but it was a good 15 or 20 minutes of slow shuffling along before we actually got to the starting line. Andrew had staked out a good position near the starting line and I spotted him snapping photos as I began the race.

The first 4 or 5 miles were very crowded. This is inevitable for such a big race, but was probably worse than it needed to be. The purpose of having pace-based starting corrals is to make sure that faster runners don't get stuck behind slower runners, but this plan fails if people do not choose the proper corrals to start in. We passed a lot of walkers during the first few miles, and it was sometimes hard to make our way around them because there were so many people. This became less of a problem as the race went on. Annoyingly enough, I was in need of another potty stop by the time we started running, so I stopped during Mile 3. This was a necessity but also meant that I lost the group I had been running with, so I was on my own from there on out.

The first 5 miles or so felt very easy; they were mostly flat, and the excitement of starting the race was a powerful propellant. I saw Andrew again at Mile 4. Miles 6-8 got a little harder because they took us through the Presidio, which is hilly. But it wasn't too bad. There were lots of spectators cheering along the way, and TNT coaches everywhere. It was comforting to know that if I started having trouble, I could ask any TNT coach for help. I had puffy-painted my name onto my visor, so many people were cheering for me by name as I passed. Coach Ashley caught up with me during Mile 9 and ran with me for a little while, getting me over the big hill until the ocean was in sight.

I would say that the run started to feel challenging around Mile 11, which was the point at which we entered a long loop through Golden Gate Park. It was actually kind of a relief when it started feeling hard, because that is a familiar feeling to me; the run had seemed too easy up to that point. The GGP loop felt a little tedious, but I saw Andrew two more times during it (what a champion cheerer he was!). I learned later that I just missed my dad at Mile 15; he'd had to park some distance away and got there just after I had passed.

Miles 16-26 took us down the Great Highway (which runs along a beautiful stretch of ocean and beach), around Lake Merced, and then back up the Great Highway to the finish. My feet were starting to get sore on that first stretch of Great Highway, but I was doing OK. Andrew had let me know back in GGP that my family were arriving in the city, so I knew I might see them at any time. There was also lots of activity along the race course -- live music, "cheer stations," DJs, food and water booths, etc. So much for mindful running; they were definitely going with the distraction principle here.

Lake Merced started in Mile 19, and this was where the race got really tough for me. By that point, I felt like I had been running for a really long time (which I had!), my feet were hurting, and it had been 5 miles since I had seen anyone I knew. I ran into one of the Tucson coaches, Glin, just as I began the lake loop, and he ran with me for a couple of minutes and told me that this lake loop would be the hardest part of the run. He was not kidding! Lake Merced is really big, it turns out, and the roads that encircle it are all sloped. The uphills were tough at this point, but it was the downhills that were excruciating (downhills make sore parts jiggle). I was starting to feel really grumpy about this whole marathon thing when, all of a sudden in Mile 20, my mom came bounding over the grassy bank next to the road! I'm pretty sure I started shrieking when I saw her. She and my stepdad had brought their bicycles so they would have greater mobility, since the roads along the race course were closed. I ran over to the grass to give them hugs, but didn't pause too long because I knew it would be tough to get going again.

Around Mile 21, I entered what John Bingham (the speaker from the night before) had referred to as the "Bite Me" zone. This is the point in the race where you start wondering what ever possessed you to do something so crazy as run a marathon, silently cursing everyone you have ever met, and having violent thoughts toward the people who are earnestly cheering you on from the side of the road. Mile 21 was the "chocolate mile" -- squares of Ghirardelli chocolate being handed out to runners -- but for perhaps the first time in my life, the prospect of free high-quality chocolate seemed ridiculous and distasteful, offensive even. I was feeling nauseous and had to stop and walk for a couple of minutes. My mom and stepdad got me through miles 22 and 23 by frequently swooping past on their bikes and holding up awesome handmade signs. I ran into Glin again around Mile 23 and he reminded me to take some extra salt. I felt a lot better after washing down a salt packet.

Just after the 23 mile marker, the lake loop finally ended, and over a little hill (which seemed enormous at the time) I was back on the Great Highway heading toward the finish. It was a relief to be next to the ocean again because I knew this was the home stretch. My feet, ankles, and knees were hurting a lot by then, and I was just barely shuffling along -- I actually got passed by a speed-walker at one point. Another one of the Tucson coaches, Lisa, came by and ran with me for a minute. She asked how I was doing and I think I said something like "tired and sore." She was very encouraging, reminding me that the end was nearly in sight and to enjoy these last few miles. Her enthusiasm invigorated me a little bit for that final stretch. Around Mile 24, I started getting all choked up because for some reason, I realized at that point that I was definitely going to finish the marathon. This was annoying because it made it harder to breathe.

In the last mile, the street was lined with a crowd of cheerers that grew increasingly dense and loud. A TNT coach passed by me and said, "Just two more stop lights! That flashing light up ahead is the finish!" Apparently my parents and Andrew were stationed somewhere around there, but I don't remember seeing any of them. I do remember seeing the finish line, though! There was an announcer with a microphone who called out my name as I approached. And as I crossed the finish line, I was greeted by a handsome, tuxedoed SF fireman who handed me a little blue Tiffany box containing my finisher's necklace. I'm not sure what my time was, since I didn't have my watch and can't figure out how to check my official time on the race website. But I think it was in the neighborhood of 5 hours and 15 minutes.

I was very dazed after I finished. I know that I was immediately handed all sorts of things, including a mylar blanket to keep me warm and a finisher shirt. There were all kinds of people trying to give me water, which I did not want. It was a bit anticlimactic because there was no one to greet me, since family members aren't allowed in the area just beyond the finish line. So I kind of spacily wandered around by myself for awhile. Eventually I found the TNT tent, checked in, got a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of Sprite. I still couldn't find anyone I knew, and I didn't have the leg strength to walk around and look for people, so I just sat on the ground and munched my sandwich, figuring that eventually I would see someone. Eventually, I did see some of the Tucson team sitting in the tent, so I hobbled over and sat with them until my family arrived. I got to introduce my mom to the team. That was cool since this week is the 5-year anniversary of her bone marrow transplant.

I didn't feel too bad after the race. Usually, I feel a little ill after long runs, at least until after I've taken a nap, but not this time. I was just spacier than usual. My family put together a really nice celebratory dinner at my grandma's house, and my stepmom had gotten a big cake to celebrate my race and my mom's 5-year anniversary. It was a lovely way to end a spectacular day.

My legs were very sore Monday and Tuesday, but I feel surprisingly good today. So good that I kind of want to go for a run, actually. Don't worry, I'm not quite that crazy. I'll give my legs a few more days. At some point soon, I'll post some reflections on this experience and musings on what's next.

Edited to add: I was able to access my official race time! Five hours 18 minutes 55 seconds (which is equivalent to an average pace of 12 minutes 10 seconds per mile). According to Nike, I finished 2610th overall. Heck, I practically won!

Good grief. I am SO massively excited. We leave for San Francisco early tomorrow morning.

I just got back from a gentle 3-miler. I was relieved to find that everything felt good; I keep irrationally worrying that my body is going to fall apart or forget how to run between now and Sunday! This was my last run before leaving for San Fran...

Last night there was an informational meeting, whose gist was "Everything You Need To Know For Race Weekend." It was exciting and overwhelming. It turns out that I have raised the most money of anyone on the Tucson team, and that the team as a whole has raised almost $70,000 -- amazing. There was a ton of information about race weekend. They emphasized how important it is not to do anything on race day that we haven't been doing in our training runs; for example, don't try any new energy supplements that day, don't wear a new pair of running shorts for the first time, make sure to eat exactly what you usually eat before a long run. They also emphasized the importance of taking time on Saturday to practice what we'll do on Sunday morning -- as in, get entirely dressed in your running gear as if you were preparing for the run, so that you know for sure you have everything you will need the next morning. They also said to make sure not to do too much walking on Saturday, even though we'll have almost the entire day to ourselves in a great city.

The reality of all this is finally setting in. I'm getting very excited and nervous about the weekend, and I can't wait to get going! Today and tomorrow are going to feel very long!

My mom works in Marin County, which is just north of San Francisco. She just called from work to tell me that there is a major storm hitting the Bay Area right now. Apparently there are gusting winds and many inches of rain and people crashing their cars right and left. It sounds like a severe enough storm that it could have been very crippling on Race Day if it had come a few days from now! However, it looks like things will have calmed down by the weekend: still a chance of rain, but no major storming forecasted. Thank goodness! We could handle running in some regular old rain, methinks. We've done it before.

Our final team run this morning was just 6 miles, and it started at the luxuriously late hour of 6:30am! I'd been hoping to run with my friend Ashley because her team was starting at the same time in the same place -- but, we were scheduled for different distances and thus different routes. So instead, I ran with one of the coaches whom I hadn't chatted with before, and the run went by pretty quickly. The quickness was both figurative and literal -- it didn't feel too grueling, and we kept up a brisk pace.

I had a number of lingering aches and pains on this run. My right ankle and hip barked a little bit throughout the run, and after the run my left knee was making its presence known too. So, even though it had been a short run, I took an ice bath afterward just to encourage the recovery process and give myself the best chance for a low-pain run on Race Day. I must be getting used to ice baths because this one wasn't particularly uncomfortable, in spite of being plenty cold. I'm going to keep icing the persistently sore spots (mainly the right ankle and left knee) a lot this week.

Tuesday evening, we'll have an informational meeting in which we'll receive the complete itinerary for next weekend and -- most importantly -- our purple race day jerseys! I'm excited to make a trip to the craft store so that I can get materials with which to decorate said jersey before we leave for SF.

I went for a 3-mile run yesterday morning. Amazingly, my ankle joints were still feeling tired! They hurt when I first started running, but loosened up as we went. Then last night, I couldn't sleep because my hips were aching. It was weird. I hope that doesn't happen again.

Tomorrow morning is the last team run. Eight days until Race Day!

This morning I was very nearly thwarted in my efforts to attend the team run. I live in a guest house and have my own driveway that runs alongside the driveway for the main house. The main house has brand new tenants in it who seem to have a massive number of cars (or else they just have a ton of people staying with them while they get settled). At 4:35 this morning when I left my house to drive to the run, I found that I had been completely blocked into my driveway by one of the four vehicles that were piled in front of the house.

I stood there for several minutes, trying to figure out how on earth to proceed. It was interesting to watch my own discomfort process unfold here. The choice was clear -- I could try to wake up a household of strangers and get them to move their car (very uncomfortable for obvious reasons) or I could give up on attending the team run, go back to bed, and then do a 10-miler on my own once it got light (also uncomfortable, since I'd dragged myself out of bed after very little sleep and was already sunscreened, bodyglided, caffeinated, and ready to go). I thought about how it was raining and I didn't really feel like running in the rain. I thought about how, in spite of having gotten only 4 hours of sleep, I might not be able to go back to sleep because I'd taken two caffeine pills to wake myself up. I thought about what I would have done if this had happened last week for the 20-mile run -- clearly I'd have had to wake them up, because I couldn't have done that run on my own. I thought about how I knew for certain that they had been informed to keep my strip of driveway unblocked, since I was standing right there when our landlady had let them know about this. I thought about the fact that it would get sunscreen and bodyglide in my bed if I gave up and went back to bed.

Eventually, I knocked on their door. It took a few minutes of knocking without response before I realized, cringing internally, that if I was going to commit to waking them up, I needed to commit to loud pounding. So I started pounding on their door. Oh, the weirdness of pounding on the door of total strangers in the middle of the night! I was afraid someone might call the police on me. Finally -- a full 10 minutes after I had first started knocking -- a woman came to the door. I explained the situation very apologetically and once she understood, she sleepily said, "Well, my husband's asleep, so can I just give you the key?" I didn't ask why she couldn't move it herself -- maybe she doesn't drive or something -- because I was already late. So she brought me the key and I moved their truck for them, also weird. At least she wasn't hostile. She didn't seem very happy about being woken up, but apologized for having blocked me in and accepted my apologies for waking her up.

After all that, I zoomed over to the park and made it there in time to hear my route before everyone had left. I ran a pokey-but-consistent 10 miles. It was a mercifully uneventful run after the door pounding incident. There was a little rain, but mostly it was just nice and cool. I was surprised to find how tired my body still was from last Saturday's run; no pain but lots of fatigue in my feet, ankles, knees, and hips. But psychologically, the run felt easy -- regardless of physical difficulty, it's no longer mentally difficult for me to run for two hours. That fact amazes me.

One more team run before Race Weekend...

I did a little 3-mile run this morning to see how things felt. Things felt good! No muscle pain or joint pain, and my blister was behaving itself. My foot muscles got more tired than they usually would, as did my hip joints -- but it was fatigue, not pain. Yay! This would suggest that things are going to heal up just fine for the race.