view from the other side of the table

we showed up at the track last night with every intention of just sitting around, but word was they were one official short. I thought, hell, what's to lose? i volunteered for my first official gig. (you'll note me in ben's photo. i'm the one that's not a guy in a dark top.)

the nice thing about the track is you can practice scoring every lap, trying to get used to reading numbers and judging who's first on the line. the bad thing is it's a lot harder than it looks. i'm really glad there was always at least one other- and usually two other- officials scoring the line too. and seeing experienced in folks action gave me a few tricks i'll need to get on top of-- like using a tape recorder to score instead of trying to write that fast.

there wasn't a camera last night, so it was up to us. getting the first 4-6 is no problem, but the next clump... that's what's hard. and if someone in the top 4-6 had their number pinned in a bad location, my eyes would have to follow them past the line into turn 1 to score them, and by then another handful had crossed the line and i'd missed it. luckily the money wasn't any deeper than the first few, so it was ok. scoring points races is hard, for sure, but the guys showed me some tricks. but hey, if you're a racer:
pin your number right! that's on your SIDE, not your back.
anywho, there were 3 of us scoring, and after the race, the riders bombarded us to get results. one official was deep in conversation with a rider, one left right away, and i was left there alone with my sheets and folks wanting to know who took the 2nd place sprint points in lap 15 of the points race. UGH. what i learned: don't show your scoring sheets, it just gives people a reason to get grumpy and question the system. my chicken scratched numbers were hardly comforting to guys who really, really, REALLY SWEAR they took 4th place in lap 10. the worst was a lady who thought her rider got points in a sprint and in the middle of the race came to argue with us... though we were sitting on the line and she was 30' back and had the worst possible spot to see who actually hit the line in which order.
unless you have proof, don't argue! (this is particularly true if there's no money or upgrade points at stake!)
though one rider did catch a legitimate mistake on our part, which was corrected. he handled it well.

sucks, though, that i didn't get to talk to anyone all night- Amy and Ernie and Ann and Val and teammates and friends, all hanging out in the infield. Hi, everyone I didn't get to chat with!

goals.

training peaks has a section for weekly goals. i decided mine this week were to get a feel for that 9:56 mile I'm shooting for the half, and trying intervals. done and done. I ran exactly a 9:56 average for this morning's 3. it felt... fast? it wasn't like i was constantly pushing myself, but it was more like i had to focus on moving the sidewalk below me. like marathon pace with a little extra push. i can do this.

last night Ben and I rode to dinner. this isn't newsworthy, except that now that I'm running instead of riding and walking to work instead of biking, the stable's been getting a little dusty. Janie took me to dinner last night, and, hot damn. 1) She fits so ideally. if you're on the fence about a custom frame, let me just say, that feeling of perfect fit... totally worth it, and not just psychosomatic. 2) I'm way stronger. Waaay stronger than last year. Running may not be the same as riding, but the basic cardio strength transfers, and I was getting over the Halsted hills sittin' down and rollin' like it was nothing. Uh-huh.

opening night at the velodrome tonight. i'll be there... in the stands.

i like my new gizmo.

since i'm still on "post marathon," the workout for today was 3 1-mile reps at marathon pace... which is pretty slow.

-BEEP-
Slow Down!
-BEEP-
Slow Down!
-BEEP-
Slow Down!

It says that my first mile I went out at 7:30 and then was coaxed into slowing down.
Golly, that makes me feel good about things.

2:10 to Penguinland.

I can't believe Judi talked me into this.

I ran the 1/2 on my marathon day in 2:26. I know if I didn't have 13 more miles in front of me I could easily have been below 2:20. I was thinking 2:15 was a realistic goal. Then Judi said 2:10 - a 10 minute mile- and I couldn't help but want it.

The race* is 13 weeks from Sunday. I've got a plan. I've never actually raced for time before, and since I lived in DC 2 years ago I haven't actually trained-trained for anything. Here's the plan...
1. I'm training for race pace. Using the McMillan calculator, I know how fast to run for 3 miles, 5, etc.
2. I'm going high tech. I signed up for Training Peaks and bought a Forerunner. I can load my training plan onto my Garmin and then upload the workout data into training peaks.
3. I'm going to race a 5k and a 10k on the way, making sure I'm on track for my race.
4. I'm reinstating the 2 drink a day rule (and 12 oz of wine is not 1 drink!)
5. Audrey and I joined a gym last night. I used to be a complete gym rat in DC but haven't belonged to one since I moved. Now, cross training really means cross training. Lots of weights.

Easy peasy, right? Yeah.

ALSO... the track. Sigh. I was thinking of hitting up clinic tonight and then realized I was terrified at the idea. I went to the track twice last year and witnessed 2 bad crashes, one that sent a junior off in an ambulance. I have a healthy list of excuses aside from that (I'm still in post-marathon recovery, I already ran today, I haven't reglued my tires for the season) and I'll just watch Hell's Kitchen instead tonight. Thursday I'll go spectate or something.

AND... if Treadfest is going to be a Mudfest, Ben's talking about just staying home. I have to agree. It's a big effort to get there and it's not worth it if it's going to make us miserable.

*The CDC is owned by Bingham, one of those odd running gurus, whose followers are called "penguins." Hence, penguinland. who knew that you could OWN a race?

you're not going to believe this.

ok, I don't believe this.

i just by mistake deleted this blog.
yup, entire thing.
all the 15-below winter runs, the race day report, the day i was engaged. it's all gone.

i thought the button said "save changes" and i thought the confirmation was just one of those assinine pop-ups.
it wasn't.

ok, i'm finding some stuff using google and looking at cached copy, i think i'll recover the stuff i care about. this might take a minute.

argh.

what i learned training for my first marathon.

1. It doesn't get better unless you make it better. When my bra started chafing, it did that till I had open sores that bled until I got my act together and got a better bra. The foot was bad but just got worse until I got to a doctor. Fix things when they happen.
2. Dress like a runner. I cover everything that blisters or chafes in Body Glide - feet, under your bra, under a HRM strap, even where I clip my ipod on. Cotton sucks, even if it's just a small percentage of the fabric content. It gets wet, then chafes. Purge all cotton from your running wardrobe.
3. Lose weight first, then up the mileage. I think one of my big mistakes was getting into this thing before I'd gotten down to a reasonable weight for me, and it made the stress on my body all the worse. I've read that 1/2 marathons are a better way to lose weight, which makes sense: long runs burn fat, but too long and you're hurting yourself carrying extra weight.
4. Have a support network. I was lucky to have Ben, Molly, blog readers, and folks on RW and V-Team forums. When I got injured, or when I missed a long run, or when I was worried about pacing, it was nice to have people to chatter with.
5. Make it public. When it's 15 below zero and 6am, knowing my coworkers will ask whether I ran that morning (since they think it's insane) sorta helped peel me out of bed. It works.
6. Know the course. I was really happy that I chose a flat race, since I had no way to train for hills. I tried to keep the course map in my head while I trained and at miles say to myself "on race day I'll be crossing a bridge soon" or "on race day I'll be getting to the turn-around point soon." I didn't know the map real well, though, and got a little turned around at miles 18-20 on race day, and, while there was zero chance of getting lost or off course, it was a mental challenge.
7. Practice your nutrition. I trained using the products they gave out on race day, but I used vanilla clif shots and they only had raspberry or espresso ones on the course. Not used to it, the espresso one made me gag and both of those flavors upset my stomach. Try all the flavors, and if the stuff they're serving isn't working for ya, carry your own.
8. Carry your own water. When Holly told me holding a water bottle for 26.2 was what she liked best, i thought she was crazy... until I did it too. It's really nice to drink when you need it and not have that nagging "I really need a water station now" feeling. And having it in my hand meant no chafey belt pushing my shorts down.
9. Train at a pace that will get you to your race goal. It was just dumb of me to not care about training pace when I had a time goal in mind for race day. If "just get to the finish line" is enough for you, that's one thing. But for me, I wanted more... and I could have gotten in so much faster if I had just prepared for it.
10. Keep smiling. Race day, this was my mantra, and it totally worked. It makes other folks smile back, and it keeps you focused on the good stuff. You're out there going farther than you ever thought you could- who cares if it hurts? Keep the achievement in your mind and it makes all else seem small.
11. Reward yourself. I kept motivated by giving myself little gifts- an ipod after finishing my first 10, new shoes once I finished 200 miles, a massage after the 20 miler, and a garmin after finishing the marathon. It's cool to earn stuff... and it makes the little milestones in the middle seem important.

Last night, I bought that Garmin Forerunner (not the 405, since I couldn't justify $100 more... REI has the 305 on sale for $169!) and registered for the Chicago Distance Classic, a 1/2 marathon. Two weeks of recovery before I start training for that.

finished.

ben took the photoz, yo.

ok, so it's rather hard to write about this. there's so much. it's been an experience of several days, ranging from our flight being cancelled (and me nearly crying) and begging our way into getting transferred to a nonstop on a different airline, to the only grocery store in downtown Eugene being out of bananas (though we found some at a 7-11 instead.)

i had intended to not drink this week but we all know what an effing joke that is. the night before the run, yeah, i was hittin' it at the Eugene City Brewery, aka Rogue. Ben and I even joined the Rogue Nation. hells yeah. let's just say it helped me sleep... a little. The time change had me asleep at 8pm and up at 3:30, sick. I didn't know what to do. The race was at 7am. I decided to tough it out and if it wasn't over, I'd take measures at 6:30. And I did- half an immodium.

I showed up at the start with my belly like a brick. Peed. Peed again. Felt all crampy, cold, and odd. Lined up between the 11:00 and 12:00 milers and tried not to get all nostalgic-teary. The start was a great big mess, there were no corrals or waves, and folks just stood where they felt like it. The first three miles were a complete zoo, people passing me and me passing lines of walkers 4-across. I now believe wholeheardly in waves and corrals.

My belly didn't get better till mile 5 or so. The leaders came running past us going the other way on the course and the awesomest was the lead girl on the marathon high 5'ing me. Hells yeah, sister. Kick it.

The first 10 miles just kind of rolled below me. They had us running with the half-marathoners, who started complaining at mile 7. It was nice to have the crowd with us, but, hearing that when I was less than 1/3 the way there- that I didn't need.

I took a tip from a friend and dedicated miles to people. Mile 2 was for Judi who I kept thinking about - with the 2 hour time difference, she was 10 miles in front of me. Mile 4 was for Jen, 5 for Amy, 6 for Adrianne, all of whom I'm really rooting for. 7 was for my friends who've really cheered me on- Amy and Audrey and Rachael and folks. There were miles for Molly our Pit Bull, for my Mom, for my Dad, for my sister, for my brother. And for my Half Acre teammates. And for Nike's sweatshop workers.* And for my union's members. There were lots of miles, lots to think about, lots to run for.

Anywho, everything was roses till mile 11, when my foot started hating me. All crunchy and ouchie right where the cortisone injections were. Remembering the "things don't just get better- they get worse till you fix them" advice, I stopped to stretch and that helped alot. After the 1/2 marathoners turned off, I stopped and wasted several minutes at a porta potty I didn't really need to be at- that sloshy stomach feeling does not necessarily mean you have to pee. But I just kept going.

Yeah, I had a plan. A nutrition n' drinking plan, a walking plan, whatever. The nutrition plan I shifted to gel at 3-8-13-18-22 and endurolytes whenever I damn well pleased (which in the end was 8 tabs over the course of the run, it was hot) but the walking thing I totally disregarded. Until mile 15 I didn't walk at all.

I didn't wear a watch. NOTE TO SELF: if you care about your pace, you should be wearing a watch. I kept asking other people and they told me that we were running anywhere from 10:00 to 11:20 miles, but all said we had 5:00 finishes in the bag. I never did find the 5:00 pace leader. The 4:30 pace leader passed me in mile 4 or so. But I guess I'm a better self-pacer than I knew.

Ben staked himself out along the route, and I motivated to get to him. When that 13-mile low hit, I just told myself for miles, "get to Ben, then you can walk with him." I hit ben at 15, and we walked for a few minutes. It was great, it was like stepping out of my echoing brain and going to a different place. But it was also the start of walking, a slippery slope.

I charged on through the next miles, slow n' steady, running. At 18, I started crashing. The brain kicked in, this time with motivation instead of a 'shut down' message. It was hard, though. By 20, my ankle was throbbing. At 22, my calves started cramping anytime I tried to stride long. I caved and walked, probably 1/2 a mile, losing valuable time. I growled out loud, intent to beat the hurt. I started running again. I was going to finish, and in my goal 5:00.

I met a woman from Ithica who had knee trouble and was in the same boat. We twittered and chattered through miles 22 to 25. It kept me going. Amelia saved me. I would have totally walked that without her. Just hearing about why she ran and her stories kept me in gear. And when I saw 25, I was all out to the finish.

5:01.

Goddammmmmit. I wish I could succeed or fail, but being 1 minute over my goal, what the heck is that? Did I succeed? Nearly? I can't be angry at that... but I'm still not quite there. Is that supposed to make me want to go it again? Let's be serious.... 18-24 were HARD, kinda discouraging for #2. I'm sorta in limbo. I'm confused. I'm... done for now. (let me also take this opportunity to say that EVERYTHING related to the BigDay makes me tear up, and since I didn't want to tear up, I just sorta ignored the finish. "Oh, I finished. OK." I should have "OMG, I just ran a marathon!" and let myself cry. but i didn't. i cried more at "the Bucket List" on the in-flight movie. WTF is wrong with me?)

The ankle's bad. It somehow bruised (i didn't hit it on anything, mind you) and the bruise is right where they injected Cortisone last week, it's big and red and tender and raised. It's hard to walk on. It's throbbing. Looking forward to the week off. Hopefully it'll chill out. Who knows.

So, mile 27. A few weeks off, then some speedwork in a 1/2 plan. A distance I can handle, where I can focus on going fast. More bike racing, less running. I shopped for weeks for a hotel room in Portland and scored with a Friday night Hotwire score. Hotel Monaco, 4 stars. Today, we're drinking Oregon microbrews and sitting in the lap of luxury. A happy ending.

(*If you're like me and hate Nike, steer clear of Eugene. It's like this little hamlet full of Nike's white-collar workers, all happy and green and organic, but with those sinister secrets. I hate that their nice neighborhoods and well-manicured lawns are paid for by a company that profits off 12 year olds' labor. The whole thing is sick, sick, sick.)