The Road to Recovery

After three days of recovery post-marathon, I hit the road again last Thursday evening with an easy three mile run around the neighborhood. This exercise served as a tremendous challenge as the lingering effects of the race continued to hamper my movement to a brisk shuffle at best, either walking or running. After yesterday's seven miler, I think I'm finally getting my body back in order and ready for the next challenge. However, I can't seem to stop eating. The candy present in our house is just too tempting. I need to find a more adequate motivator to persuade me to forgo candy in lieu of something healthy. After seeing the marathon photos from the race, I know I need to work on my legs, and fight more vigilantly against the evil cottage cheese. Aside from running goals, I am now dedicating myself to fighting the cheese.

As for the next running goals, I'm planning to hook up with my old running buddy to do the Sunset Stampede (www.sunsetstampede.com) in Asheville, North Carolina. This race is a challenging 10-miler, which has about three miles positively straight up, followed by a brisk three miles down. The race rewards runners with nice post-race festivities including food and music. Like last year, they promise Jared from the Subway commercials. I missed Jared's appearance last year; I don't want to miss him this year. Ideally, I'd like to hit this race in around 1:28 as a time goal.

Later this year I'll join 54,999 of my closest running buddies in the Peachtree Road Race (www.atlantatrackclub.org). This race is the largest 10K in the world. Time goals are out for this race because it's so enormous.

I'm searching for a good base building schedule for marathon preparation to begin in July. There are so many "schedules" out there for the actual marathon, but no one seems to plan exactly base building. My plan is to mold my own schedule and put it in writing. I do much better with my running when I have a plan, posted prominently on the refrigerator, where I can check off the days. My new goal is to tackle Chickamauga in November again. This year the race falls on my birthday which will make it extra special. New marathon time goal: 3:49:30. Aggressive.

My non-running related item for this entry relates to my recent experience in my professional life reviewing proposals by companies trying to obtain positions on a job. While I majored in my native language in college, I'm certainly no grammarian. However, I am amazed by the lack of comprehension on basic English skills on a formal professional document. I have inherited certain language pet peeves from the influence of teachers. In tenth grade, our English teacher told us never to use the word "kids" when referring to children, because "kids" are baby goats. I don't use "kids" much simply because of Mr. Meehan's pedagogy. As an adult my major grammar pet peeve, inherited or simply earned, is the frequent misuse of "its," and "it's." For folks who don't know, "it's" is not possessive; rather it stands for "it is." "Its" is the possessive form of the word (the dog chases its tail). Admittedly, it's confusing. I saw a new permutation of this confusion with someone using "its'" as a possessive. I'm not perfect, but I think Americans in general have a problem with the whole possessive thing - perhaps because we want to possess everything.

Rocky Top: My Knoxville Marathon Race Report

I did it.

That’s what I kept saying to myself, out loud, after I ran through the finish line. I kept looking for my husband and saying to myself “I did it.”

On Saturday afternoon we departed to head north to Knoxville, the great land of anticipation and hope, for its inaugural marathon. We stopped on the way at a Macaroni Grill, where I commenced in consuming the entire loaf of foccaccia set on the table, by myself, with absolutely no assistance from my husband. I also ate the traditional pre-race meal of pasta. From there, we went to the host hotel. My husband checked in while I went across the street to get my race packet. He met me in escalator of the convention center with good news – my room was at the end of the hall, with nothing but a fire exit across from it. This was the first of many fortunate occurrences.

After my husband left me to go stay with our dog, I relaxed in the huge king-sized bed and watched college basketball. The fact that I had forgotten my glasses and that I had to keep my contacts in seemed a foreboding sign (will things only get worse, what else did I forget? ran through my head). I have the supreme misfortune of being more than slightly obsessive about checking and rechecking. It’s horrible. Then the music started. There was a wedding reception in the park adjacent to the hotel. Fortunately, they wrapped up at about 10:00 p.m. without much hooting and hollering. That was about the time I retired to see if I could get some sleep.

I set my alarm, actually two alarms and a wake up call, for 4:00 a.m. However, the alarm and subsequent backups weren’t necessary given that I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and couldn’t return to dreamland for as much as I tried. I stayed in bed, my head resting on the pillows that were too high, awaiting the time to get up and eat. I think the key to a good marathon is good eating that morning. I ate 1.5 Luna Bars and 45 oz. of Cytomax, laid in bed and flipped through the channels on tv as a distraction. There really isn’t much on at 4:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning. After showering and watching more tv, I finally got dressed and began the usual levels of anxiety that happen pre-race. I could see the start line from my hotel room and could hear the announcements. I waited to go down to the start until what I thought was the last possible minute. Others had the same thought too, because we stopped at every single floor for nine floors, the only proper and fitting way to add to my anxiety.

I lined up and met someone who I’d seen on a running message board. We both had similar goals of beating four hours. The crowd of people at the start slowly loped forward as the race began. The whole start was slow, but I didn’t push as I typically do. Maybe I’ve finally learned that picking through the crowd only wastes energy. In the first mile I found one of two of the 4:00 pace leaders. I asked him what time he typically ran marathons when he wasn’t pacing. Based upon his response, he either a. didn’t understand my question or b. hadn’t run a marathon before. So, I didn’t stick with him and moved on. I found my four hour message board man a bit later and we tagged together for a few miles. It was then that I thought maybe I needed to use the portalet, so I sped up a bit hoping to find one. But each one I came to was occupied, so I never stopped.

Somewhere later on I came to Phil from Michigan. I basically drafted off of Phil for several miles, and kept telling myself that I just needed to stick with the tall man. Unfortunately, Phil was too entranced by the girl scouts with oranges at mile 21.5, so I couldn’t draft anymore. It was all up to me and the watch. Through it all, I just remembered my mantras: fortitude and commitment. There were moments, too, when I reminded myself that I was blessed (but what or whom take your pick) to be out there on that spectacular day, and that I had so many friends and family members who, while not on the course, were rooting for me at various places in the country. These thoughts kept me going. I also thought about how happy my husband would be if I met my goal. He nearly cried at the conclusion of the last marathon in Chickamauga thinking I would make it under four hours. I wanted to make him cry this time.

After mile 23, the second 4:00 pacer zoomed by me. I tried to keep pace, but he was going a bit faster than I was capable of. I thought, I can’t lose the 4:00 man. He said he thought he’d finish about a minute under. I kept chugging. At mile 25, a Beastie Boys song blaring through speakers lifted my spirits. Beastie Boys and uplifting usually don’t go together. From mile 25.5 to 26, I was talking to myself. Come on chick, you can do it. The last .2 miles I was shouting “come on, let’s go” like a complete lunatic. I know that I must have looked like an absolute nut. Other people around me picked up their pace because maybe they thought I was yelling at them. The biggest charge of race was coming through the tunnel at Neyland Stadium on the Tennessee campus and running on the football field. Emerging from the tunnel, I saw the clock tick up. 3:59:43… and up to 3:59:48 when I crossed the finish line. Under four hours – my goal. I was actually less than that in terms of “chip time” by about 37 seconds. I was so happy that not even the soreness could wipe a smile off my face. I just kept saying “I did it.” Finally I found my husband and I told him. He said, “I know!” While I was looking like a lunatic yelling, he was standing in the bleachers of the stadium waiting for me. When he saw someone he thought was me, he jumped up and just started yelling “RUN! RUN! RUN!” The people around him stared at him like a lunatic (so he says).

I could not have done it without the support of my husband, who withstands the every day grief associated with my obsession. But he didn’t cry.

Now I need a new goal. How fast can I run the next marathon?

Connections

Running life = okay. Taper is driving me bonkers because I can't stop eating and my butt is growing to be the size of a Buick. Even if I thought I could break four hours, the added girth produced by my gluttony won't help on Knoxville's hills.

Regardless, I'm a bit flustered in regular non-running life. As was plastered on the news, there was a horrible act of violence committed in Atlanta by a man facing rape charges. The man murdered four individuals, injured a few more, and emotionally scarred many. By some odd set of coincidences, there are many elements in my life which intersect the path of this man's fury.

It so happens that I work in downtown Atlanta not far from the courthouse where these senseless acts occurred. That Friday I heard the sirens and the helicopters covering the scene. Additionally, my husband has some close ties to this courthouse and met a few of the folks who died on Friday. Had we not gone to Las Vegas earlier in the week, the likelihood was fairly great that my husband would have been volunteering at the courthouse on that day within earshot of the gunshots. Brian Nichols managed to elude police using the public form of transport I happen to frequent many times per week. The U.S. Customs Agent was murdered within running distance (and not just for marathon runners) from the area I consider "home." Not only did we once live in the apartment complex where Nichols was finally captured, we in fact lived in the same building, on the same floor (but a different unit). Finally, the Customs Agent is being honored prior to burial on the campus of my beloved alma mater. I've met many people with whom I've unknowingly crossed paths in a similar nature. However, this situation was by far the most unfortunate, strange and unsettling. I'm still trying to interpret these events. While this tragedy has no true personal relevance to me, I think hidden somewhere in these points is the fact that I need to take stock - of my own fortune in life.

What Money You Bring to Vegas Stays in Vegas

Tonight my husband and I arrived home from our annual pilgrimage to Sin City. We had a good time. I was able to check off two of my three objectives for the trip. We did eat at an In-n-Out Burger. The experience wasn't bad. I think their concept of having a limited menu is good; this restaurant probably represents what McDonald's or other fast food joints were in the early days http://www.in-n-out.com/. Second on the list: learn to play craps. Craps seems to be one of the most intimidating games in the casino. I'd done some basic reading on the subject and understood the basic essential: bet on the pass line. One morning after losing at blackjack I decided to throw the dice. There was no one else at the table. Craps is pretty lame when it's a party of one. However, on two other occasions I played a bit with a packed table of sweaty men frantically placing bets. Betting the pass line and adding odds, I converted $25 to $75, which helped to recover only marginally from my amassed losses. I played a little bit this morning, and only made $2 (but was happy not to lose). There was a woman at the table this morning who indicated she was trying to make up for her losses on the trip; she had lost $5,000, and only ended up a loser before she walked away to catch her plane. Third on the list: bowling at 3:00 a.m. Didn't happen.

One of the highlights of the trip was a drive out to the Valley of Fire State Park. Here we saw some spectacular vistas and rock formations. http://parks.nv.gov/vf.htm

Running in Vegas was great. I've never experienced the true benefit to running on a flat course, with the exception of a track. The flat topography makes a huge difference as I was able to average paces a minute faster than here in my eastern home, with little effort. For any runners travelling to Vegas, I would highly recommend staying at the Las Vegas Hilton http://www.lvhilton.com/ . There's nice loop around the hotel that's just a little over 2 miles. I did a couple of loops around the hotel convention center area. There's also a small track on the complex that's somewhere around 3/4 of a mile in length.

We had some interesting experiences in Las Vegas. One was being seated next to a homeless man in an IHOP restaurant. After taking our order and walking away, the waitress moved us to another location to make us more comfortable. She indicated that they were trying to figure out how to "deal with the situation." The man was still there, in a different booth with his bag of plastic bags and a walkman drinking coffee. At this same IHOP there was a ragged looking couple in the throes of a heated argument. We also some a woman abandon a red suitcase on the side of the road. We figure she had stolen the suitcase and was ditching it there; her stolen possessions were carefully tucked under her shirt. She looked suspicious dragging a suitcase particularly because there weren't any hotels in the area.

My husband posed the question of whether gambling degraded human morality. My initial response was no, but that the accompanying vices of alcohol and debauchery were problematic. Now I'm not so sure.