Did you think I forgot about you all? I'll admit, it's been a dark, dismal, lazy winter.
It's been a long, cold lonely winter.
I thought it was rough running last winter - I was a fool - FOOL! In 2013, the phrase "Polar Vortex" was not in my vocabulary, and I had never experienced a cold day (vs. snow day) off of work, and did not remember was -25 wind chill felt like. After four solid months of dreary cold, I'm a sadder but wiser girl. And slower and fatter.
But enough of that. Daylight savings time has arrived, removing one of the obstacles to outdoor running - dark. And it may crack 45 degrees here today. So begins the season of snowmelt. Snowmelt is really just code for flooding, but it does mean that every day we see a little more pavement and a little less dingy, dirty snow.
Little darling
I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling
It seems like years since it's been clear
What makes this year different from last is that my first scheduled race is Memorial Day weekend instead of April 6th, so I'm not in training trouble yet. I have another year of running under my belt, so there's a little less fear of the "getting back into it" this time around. However, I have some additional extracurricular responsibilities that will force me to be more structured in my scheduling if I want to get my workouts done. The time I spend as the Michigan Jaycees District 2 Director may take away from some of those lazy Saturday "I'll run when I feel like it" mornings. I also spend more time in my car and eating at restaurants, which can be a recipe for weight gain. But no worries...
Running Jamie is back. And I know that it the days of frozen temperatures are not yet behind us. In fact, they will be back within 48 hours. I know that it will probably snow on my birthday.
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
But today? Today I splash in the icy puddles of the 90+ days of snow on the ground FINALLY melting. Today I tread *more* carefully, because there's nothing more slick that water on top of ice. Today I run in the 6pm sunshine, because I earned it - paid for it with the lost hour of daylight savings time.
Spring is coming.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Monday, December 30, 2013
Photographs and Memories
Tis the season... for year end reviews, retrospectives, and resolutions.
While 2013 was my most exciting year in recent memory, with a some AWESOME accomplishments and life changes, I find myself at the end of it feeling a little, well, blah. And definitely ready to move on to 2014. Many of my friends are ready to shove 2013 out the door, as they have faced significant challenges - with the hope that things can only look up. But I think that is what we hope for every year, no matter how successful the previous one was -- that things will get better.
So maybe we'll have a brief photo recap of 2013 and some thoughts on where to go next. Sound good? Still hanging with me?
The year kicked off right with the Sgt. Preston Yukon King 6 mile run on New Year's Day. Clock (in red) and I came in last. It was pretty awesome.
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| Sunset heading towards Tuscon |
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| Just under 2000 miles from Phoenix to Kalamazoo! |
I was already hatching my plans to run the Marine Corps Marathon and had set my sights on running the 5/3 River Bank 25k. As I wrote about before, the training didn't go well and my first half marathon of the season was rough. The weekend of my 33rd birthday was spent in Bloomington, IN for the Hoosier Half.
April came and went and Mother's Day (and Riverbank) was upon us!
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| Kari's first 25k, my second 10k |
As June rolled around I was finally ready to kick my running into high gear and I hit one of the low points of the year. On June 8, 2013, my grandmother passed away.
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| Jamie, Jessica, Troy and Grandma at Troy and Jessica's wedding reception, Aug 2010 |
The summer became an endless cycle of work, running and car trouble. In July, Mike and I took a much needed vacation to California to visit Troy, Jessica and Nolan (of course!!) and to do some sightseeing around the Bay Area. It was my first time visiting Yosemite and Alcatraz. We hit many of the San Francisco highlights in one whirlwind day, including Golden Gate Park, which clearly doesn't impress Nolan.
Shortly after returning from California, decided to get off the car repair merry-go-round. I bought my first ever new car (not hand-me-down from a family member), a 2013 Chevy Cruze. Kari suggested the name "Penelope Cruze," and she has treated me well the last few months. The downside is having an actual car payment and the car insurance hike that comes from having a car newer than your high school diploma.
I don't know about you, but I think the most logical thing to do after buying a new car and incurring a bunch of expenses is to change jobs and move. No?? Well I was never one for taking advice.In late August, I accepted an offer at United Way of the Lakeshore, where I started my United Way career in 2009. I left my great colleagues at United Way in Kalamazoo after 3.5 years. It also meant leaving my running group, EcoTrekkers, friends, Jaycees and roomies, Heather and Shark.
Oh and I had to move. I hate moving. Dad and Mike hate it more.
My move to back to Muskegon put Mike's plans for home improvement on the fast track, as there were several projects he hoped to have done before Crookshanks and I arrived. Fast and furious work on painting, carpets and the kitchen, as well as some exterior updates took place over a 2-week period.
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| Crookshanks approves these updates |
Throughout the summer, the move, the changes, I was still rolling towards the Marine Corps Marathon goal. I had my injury setback, detailed here, but was able to have some beautiful training runs.
Summer was quickly coming to a close and I was raising money like mad for the Epilepsy Therapy Project. I also spent a lot of time in little engine mode when mentally preparing for the marathon: I think I can, I think I can. One more race and it was time to head to DC.
Too good not to post - the Grand Rapids Marathon Relay Crew. And Mike's thumb.
I've detailed the marathon here, but there are more photos to share and always more story to tell.
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| Welcome to DC! |
Ok, maybe that was just my internal monologue, but honestly, this was one of the best days of my life so far. I'm so glad that Mike, Mom, Dad and Kari were on the adventure with me!
It seems that the whole year was all about the marathon, but really, it was only about 6 months. Haha. Now that we've gotten through October and the REALLY BIG THING, as I had taken to calling it, I could focus on ending the year strong.
With the holidays approaching, Mom, Dad, and I took a trip out to California in early December. We celebrated Christmas with Troy, Jessica and Nolan by completely spoiling the little bugger, eating all the cookies that Jessica made with no help, and having Thai food for Christmas dinner. Mike had already made plans to attend the Big 10 Championship game in Indianapolis to watch MSU beat Ohio State, so he didn't make the trip with us.
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| Nolan is ready to go |
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| Aunt Jamie and Nolan spend some quality time |
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| Almost the family Christmas card |
With the holiday season properly kicked off, I returned home in the "spirit" and convinced Mike we had to get a Christmas tree. We HAAAADDD to get a Christmas tree.
Umm... isn't that the most awesome Christmas tree you've seen yet today? Yes, it does need an angel or a star. We're working on it.
I don't have many pictures from Christmas itself or the various festivities, so you'll have to trust me that this is a good representation. This is most of the Helsen women at our annual cookie exchange (and also the day of our holiday gathering). It was the first Christmas without Grandma, but we had 50 people at the house celebrating, so a wonderful celebration!
That's about it for the photo retrospective, kiddos. They're mostly rehashes, but a good reminder of where I've been this year and how lucky I am.
In 2013 I was blessed with health, opportunity, endurance, encouragement, friendship and love. I don't know if I can ask for more out of 2014. Perhaps it's best not to get greedy and instead try to build on the abundance of gifts I have in front of me in these closing days of 2013.
My final words on 2013 come from the later verses of the traditional New Year's Eve song, Auld Lang Syne:
We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we've wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.
And there's a hand my trusty friend!
And give us a hand o' thine!
And we'll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.
Happy New Year!
and picked the daisies fine;
But we've wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.
And there's a hand my trusty friend!
And give us a hand o' thine!
And we'll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.
Happy New Year!
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
So you say you ran a marathon?
Seven months ago, I stepped out into the blogosphere and put a stake in the ground. I was going to run the Marine Corps Marathon, raise $1500 for the Epilepsy Therapy Project and write a blog about my journey. Well kids, it's November and we need to check in on those goals.
I've started and stopped this first sentence countless times now, because the enormity of 9 days ago just makes it difficult to know where to start. But as Maria Von Trapp taught us, let's start at the very beginning - it's a very good place to start.
If I were to recap the ENTIRE awesome trip to our Nation's great Capitol, we'd be here all night, so I'll dedicate this post to the marathon and touch on other parts of the trip in another post. With our starting point established, Sunday, October 27, 2013, 7:55am. A date with destiny.
The entire crew (Kari, me, Mike, Mom and Dad) was staying in Maryland and getting to the start of the race required a 20 minute drive to the Metro Commuter Station and 35-40 minute Metro ride to the Pentagon. Knowing there were many logistical hurdles to navigate, we wanted to get on one of the first trains into the city, so we left the hotel around 4:40am. Seriously. The ride to the Green Belt Metro Station was not without its challenges. Primarily from me.
I've started and stopped this first sentence countless times now, because the enormity of 9 days ago just makes it difficult to know where to start. But as Maria Von Trapp taught us, let's start at the very beginning - it's a very good place to start.
If I were to recap the ENTIRE awesome trip to our Nation's great Capitol, we'd be here all night, so I'll dedicate this post to the marathon and touch on other parts of the trip in another post. With our starting point established, Sunday, October 27, 2013, 7:55am. A date with destiny.
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| Prepped at ready at packet pick-up |
Five minutes into the ride: "I know what I forgot. My contact lens." So yes, I ran the race and went the next 12 hours with uncorrected vision.
Five minutes later: "Oh... I didn't bring my ankle brace." As in I totally haven't run more than one mile since August without an ankle brace and now I'm going to run for 6 hours WTF!!! Mom was very concerned, but frankly, the brace had been bothering me and I didn't feel like I had a hell of a lot of choices, so I did NOT freak out, and decided to run unsupported and hit the med tent if needed.
Minor issues, but a little nerve rattling.
We arrived at the Pentagon Station and walked to Runner's Village, familiarized ourselves with the surroundings (located porta-potties) and realized the race didn't start for 90 minutes. After listening to the tail end of a non-denominational prayer service and killing some time, we finally made our way towards the start line around 7:10. I wasn't letting myself feel the butterflies until the American flag came streaming down to earth attached to the parachutes of skydivers while an a Capella choir sang the national anthem. For the first time that day, I began to feel the enormity of running 26.2 miles through the some of the nation's most important spots. Also, it was finally light out, so I could see enough to be impressed for the first time.
Now I had to say goodbye to my kick-ass ground support crew and send them on their most excellent spectator journey, which covered miles of walking, 2 states by Metro and multiple trips through Marine Corps security. Mom, Dad and Mike are the people who made it happen.
It was time to get settled into my corral at the back of the pack and send Kari off towards the middle. She didn't want to leave and I wished she didn't have to, but she had a race to run and needed to do it about 90 minutes faster than me.
At 7:55 the howitzer fired and we were off! Ok, 22 minutes later I crossed the starting line. Tens of thousands of runners crossed the starting line ahead of me. Those 22 minutes were the longest of the day - well, until the last 6 miles.
I'll admit that over a week later, I don't remember much of the first mile except people. Lots of people. The first 10k was the most technically difficult and the easiest mentally. I had a good pace, my lungs felt good, the scenery was great and I felt right on target. For the first of several times, I saw my parents and Mike when I was in Georgetown - easily the most entertaining part of the race. It featured high school marching bands, the Georgetown Hoyas pep band, a bluegrass group and a runner who was falling down drunk at mile 5. Honestly. Last I saw her she was being helped to a cart by a Marine and another volunteer.
At nearly every intersection for 26.2 (or 26.6 according to Garmin) miles and every aid station, there were Marines, keeping up safe, hydrated, fueled and encouraged. I had scrawled my name on my race bib and at a later water stop, a young marine was filling up my water bottle and saw it. He said, "Good job Jamie! Keep going!" I almost cried because I was so glad to have someone call me by name at that point in the game.
Back to our race. After the first 6, I was settling in well and focused on maintaining a pace so I could pass the Gauntlet (mile 17) and Beat the Bridge (mile 20). These two cut-off points must be reached by a certain time or you will be removed from the course and bused back to the finish line. If you ask my fellow travel companions, they will tell you that the weekend's refrain was "I will NOT get on the bus." My pace was on the mark to make the bridge, but those 22 minutes waiting to cross the start line were not doing me any favors.
In those middlish miles before coming back to the crowds of the National Mall, I was out in the relative no-man's land of Hains Point, along the Potomac. The view is nice and there were lots of signs, but limited spectators. This is where I found the Blue Mile, sponsored by the Team Wear Blue/Run to Remember. Please check out this runner's blog for moving photos of the mile. Every 6 feet was a photo of a service member killed in action. These men and women, most barely out of their teens, were often smiling, sometimes holding newborn babies, lives full of promise and service to country. Some were career military veterans at 40, who could have been close to retirement. I pulled down my sunglasses as I couldn't stop the tears. The last half of the Blue Mile was volunteers, one after the other, holding flags at attention - all day long. I cried harder.
Regaining some composure and checking my pace, I hustled on the the National Mall, where I saw Mike again. I tried to hug him, but he pushed me on, as the math whiz in him was concerned about me making the Gauntlet. The mood on the Mall was upbeat with thousands of spectators, more music and sights to see. My parents saw me (but I barely remember seeing them) around mile 16 as I cruised towards the Gauntlet in front of one of the Smithsonian Museums (Natural History?). I made it, with Marines cheering me on and barking at everyone, in a very encouraging manner, to go BEAT THE BRIDGE!
So I did. And I pushed it. When a Marine yelled "You've got to get to the bridge by 1:05," I said "Well what time is it now???" Turns out I was a mile away and it was 12:40 pm. So I had plenty of time, but couldn't dawdle.
When I reached the 14th Street Bridge, I could finally relax. 20 miles down. Just a 10k to go. The toughest 10k of my life. As a friend put it - you feel like your knees have been taken out and you were up all night drinking beforehand. But still, just 6.2 little miles. I could do it. I could do it. I didn't get on the bus. I didn't get on the bus. Left foot, right foot.
Once we crossed back into Virginia for the last 6 miles, it got rough. For the first time I put in my headphones. I saw Ellen, one of the other Team Athletes vs. Epilepsy runners around mile 22. She wasn't feeling so hot, and was glad to see me, but told me to go on as she was going to struggle. It was comforting to see a friendly face so late in the race.
During those first 20 miles, I was focused on the BRIDGE, but had no doubts about my ability to complete the race. Things got very real after mile 20. I still knew I could finish and was not having any major issues. The bum ankle wasn't acting up and I was successfully ignoring the growing tightness in my calves and hamstrings. The burning in my neck and shoulders had been present since about mile 5, and while it was sapping my energy, it wasn't keeping my legs from moving. I just kept running... but the miles weren't going by! I would look down at my Garmin and .05 miles had elapsed! I had to turn my watch around so I couldn't see the time or distance because while my body was going strong, time and space were somehow disrupted.
I dodged walkers all through Crystal City and winding back towards the Pentagon. Many other back of the packers had pushed it to beat the BRIDGE and then walked much of the last 6 miles. My strategy was the continue my same run/walk intervals as the first 20 miles, which I did accomplish, although not quickly. With as much or more effort, my pace slowed by at least 1 min/mile. I cursed those who said I was "almost there" at mile 23. At mile 25, I finally believed them! I saw the starting line. There were spectators lining the course.
As I came upon the last mile, I could see Arlington National Cemetery in the distance. Marines and civilians alike were cheering us on. I kept moving.
Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no I got to keep on movin'
Matthew Wilder
I turned a corner and saw it. The final hill. Signs on the ground saying "Charge the Hill!" and "Take Iwo" as we all climbed the short (LONGEST) hill to the finish. Marines were shoulder to shoulder giving high fives and dragging you up the hill if needed. I didn't think I had anything left, but I couldn't walk that hill. I just couldn't. I reached the top, ran the last 100 yards and crossed the finish line. Clock time was about 6:28. Official time: 6:06:01.
Running a marathon requires a lot of trust in your body, the people around you and letting your preparation carry you when you flip to autopilot. Thank god for the Marine Corps. When I was done with the race, they were (kindly) telling me where to go and what to do, because I had no post-race autopilot and energy to think for myself.
1. Collect your medal. 2. Get your picture taken at the Iwo Jima Memorial. 3. Move to the left to get your box of food and finisher jacket. 4. Follow the fence to exit the finishers area.
My feet hurt. My neck hurt. My back hurt. My heart soared! I couldn't walk another step and I couldn't wish for a better day.
By the numbers:
Miles run (Official): 26.2 - I don't have training miles, I'm not a junkie for excel like Kari
Time: 6:06:01
Weeks of official training: 19
Money Raised: $1782.50
That's right folks... Thanks to many of you, I blew my original and expanded goals out of the water! I will be posting later this week on gratitude, but I can't thank you all enough for what you have done here. By supporting me in my first marathon, you have given me the gift of a lifetime. It is an experience I will never forget and everywhere I looked that day, I was reminded of how much bigger this is than just me. Thank you.
Upcoming:
1. On gratitude and service
2. The next adventures
Minor issues, but a little nerve rattling.
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| Runner's Village - heading towards the start line |
Now I had to say goodbye to my kick-ass ground support crew and send them on their most excellent spectator journey, which covered miles of walking, 2 states by Metro and multiple trips through Marine Corps security. Mom, Dad and Mike are the people who made it happen.
It was time to get settled into my corral at the back of the pack and send Kari off towards the middle. She didn't want to leave and I wished she didn't have to, but she had a race to run and needed to do it about 90 minutes faster than me.
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| Chatting before the start |
I'll admit that over a week later, I don't remember much of the first mile except people. Lots of people. The first 10k was the most technically difficult and the easiest mentally. I had a good pace, my lungs felt good, the scenery was great and I felt right on target. For the first of several times, I saw my parents and Mike when I was in Georgetown - easily the most entertaining part of the race. It featured high school marching bands, the Georgetown Hoyas pep band, a bluegrass group and a runner who was falling down drunk at mile 5. Honestly. Last I saw her she was being helped to a cart by a Marine and another volunteer.
At nearly every intersection for 26.2 (or 26.6 according to Garmin) miles and every aid station, there were Marines, keeping up safe, hydrated, fueled and encouraged. I had scrawled my name on my race bib and at a later water stop, a young marine was filling up my water bottle and saw it. He said, "Good job Jamie! Keep going!" I almost cried because I was so glad to have someone call me by name at that point in the game.
Back to our race. After the first 6, I was settling in well and focused on maintaining a pace so I could pass the Gauntlet (mile 17) and Beat the Bridge (mile 20). These two cut-off points must be reached by a certain time or you will be removed from the course and bused back to the finish line. If you ask my fellow travel companions, they will tell you that the weekend's refrain was "I will NOT get on the bus." My pace was on the mark to make the bridge, but those 22 minutes waiting to cross the start line were not doing me any favors.
In those middlish miles before coming back to the crowds of the National Mall, I was out in the relative no-man's land of Hains Point, along the Potomac. The view is nice and there were lots of signs, but limited spectators. This is where I found the Blue Mile, sponsored by the Team Wear Blue/Run to Remember. Please check out this runner's blog for moving photos of the mile. Every 6 feet was a photo of a service member killed in action. These men and women, most barely out of their teens, were often smiling, sometimes holding newborn babies, lives full of promise and service to country. Some were career military veterans at 40, who could have been close to retirement. I pulled down my sunglasses as I couldn't stop the tears. The last half of the Blue Mile was volunteers, one after the other, holding flags at attention - all day long. I cried harder.
Regaining some composure and checking my pace, I hustled on the the National Mall, where I saw Mike again. I tried to hug him, but he pushed me on, as the math whiz in him was concerned about me making the Gauntlet. The mood on the Mall was upbeat with thousands of spectators, more music and sights to see. My parents saw me (but I barely remember seeing them) around mile 16 as I cruised towards the Gauntlet in front of one of the Smithsonian Museums (Natural History?). I made it, with Marines cheering me on and barking at everyone, in a very encouraging manner, to go BEAT THE BRIDGE!
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| Passed the Gauntlet, headed to the Bridge! |
When I reached the 14th Street Bridge, I could finally relax. 20 miles down. Just a 10k to go. The toughest 10k of my life. As a friend put it - you feel like your knees have been taken out and you were up all night drinking beforehand. But still, just 6.2 little miles. I could do it. I could do it. I didn't get on the bus. I didn't get on the bus. Left foot, right foot.
Once we crossed back into Virginia for the last 6 miles, it got rough. For the first time I put in my headphones. I saw Ellen, one of the other Team Athletes vs. Epilepsy runners around mile 22. She wasn't feeling so hot, and was glad to see me, but told me to go on as she was going to struggle. It was comforting to see a friendly face so late in the race.
During those first 20 miles, I was focused on the BRIDGE, but had no doubts about my ability to complete the race. Things got very real after mile 20. I still knew I could finish and was not having any major issues. The bum ankle wasn't acting up and I was successfully ignoring the growing tightness in my calves and hamstrings. The burning in my neck and shoulders had been present since about mile 5, and while it was sapping my energy, it wasn't keeping my legs from moving. I just kept running... but the miles weren't going by! I would look down at my Garmin and .05 miles had elapsed! I had to turn my watch around so I couldn't see the time or distance because while my body was going strong, time and space were somehow disrupted.
I dodged walkers all through Crystal City and winding back towards the Pentagon. Many other back of the packers had pushed it to beat the BRIDGE and then walked much of the last 6 miles. My strategy was the continue my same run/walk intervals as the first 20 miles, which I did accomplish, although not quickly. With as much or more effort, my pace slowed by at least 1 min/mile. I cursed those who said I was "almost there" at mile 23. At mile 25, I finally believed them! I saw the starting line. There were spectators lining the course.
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| About mile 25. Still upright, but tired |
As I came upon the last mile, I could see Arlington National Cemetery in the distance. Marines and civilians alike were cheering us on. I kept moving.
Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no I got to keep on movin'
Matthew Wilder
I turned a corner and saw it. The final hill. Signs on the ground saying "Charge the Hill!" and "Take Iwo" as we all climbed the short (LONGEST) hill to the finish. Marines were shoulder to shoulder giving high fives and dragging you up the hill if needed. I didn't think I had anything left, but I couldn't walk that hill. I just couldn't. I reached the top, ran the last 100 yards and crossed the finish line. Clock time was about 6:28. Official time: 6:06:01.
Running a marathon requires a lot of trust in your body, the people around you and letting your preparation carry you when you flip to autopilot. Thank god for the Marine Corps. When I was done with the race, they were (kindly) telling me where to go and what to do, because I had no post-race autopilot and energy to think for myself.
1. Collect your medal. 2. Get your picture taken at the Iwo Jima Memorial. 3. Move to the left to get your box of food and finisher jacket. 4. Follow the fence to exit the finishers area.
My feet hurt. My neck hurt. My back hurt. My heart soared! I couldn't walk another step and I couldn't wish for a better day.
By the numbers:
Miles run (Official): 26.2 - I don't have training miles, I'm not a junkie for excel like Kari
Time: 6:06:01
Weeks of official training: 19
Money Raised: $1782.50
That's right folks... Thanks to many of you, I blew my original and expanded goals out of the water! I will be posting later this week on gratitude, but I can't thank you all enough for what you have done here. By supporting me in my first marathon, you have given me the gift of a lifetime. It is an experience I will never forget and everywhere I looked that day, I was reminded of how much bigger this is than just me. Thank you.
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| Proud girls with our medals! |
Upcoming:
1. On gratitude and service
2. The next adventures
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
It's the Final Countdown
Ok... this is it, don't get scared now. (Maybe I've seen Home Alone a few too many times?)
Less than 4 days until the Howitzer sounds and then some 15 minutes later, I'll cross the starting line. For those of you who have never attended a HUGE race, it takes a lot of time for 30,000 people to cross the starting line. I'm guessing for the 12:00+ min/mile pace corral, it will be nearly 15 minutes.
It's been 17 weeks of training. Even more weeks of scheming and waffling and deciding and planning. And it's here. In a few hours Kari, Mike, Mom, Dad and I will get on a plane and head to DC for the big show. Marine Corps Marathon. So maybe the whole thing was nearly scuttled by the ridiculous federal government shutdown. No one wants to hear the rantings of a runner and a nonprofit worker on that situation. The good news is that the government is back working as well as it ever did (ha ha), and we're back on to run through one of the greatest cities in the world! Asking for fundraising support ONE LAST TIME!!! Be an Athletic Supporter!
I've been very remiss in my blogging lately. I haven't turned on my computer since the last blog. A wonderful feeling, although it just means that I've been killing the battery of my iPhone faster. I was totally geeked about my 20-miler last time. It was a hot mess. We went to Grand Rapids to do with the Grand Rapids Marathon training run and it wasn't exactly what I expected. The shirts were nice, the water/fuel stops were great and the staff was awesome! The number of people running my pace = 0. The directional signs, not so great. I got lost, I cried, I found my way back, I ran bonus tenths. After running 20.4 miles, I finally gave up and hitched a ride back with the Gazelle dude who was breaking down the pit stops. Slowest and most painful run of my season - honestly worse than the one after I sprained my ankle. Thankfully Kari and I went to Founders afterwards and I had a consolation beer, which makes everything better.
Redemption was needed. A plan was hatched. We're always hatching plans. Thus was born the Channel Challenge of 2013. The challenge? Run around Muskegon Lake from Margaret Drake Elliot Park to Muskegon State Park in North Muskegon by way of the Lakeshore trail and roads in North Muskegon. The week after the disastrous 20 miler, we started at sunrise and 3 hours and 40 minutes later, had run 16 miles and were approximately 50 yards from where we started. There just happened to be a body of water between us.
The Channel Challenge complete, and medals in hand, (I'm a nerd, ok? It was an event... it needed medals.) it was on to the taper. Tapering is awesome, as long as you remember to run and don't eat like you're still running 35 miles a week.
The final "long" run was Sunday. The Grand Rapids Marathon Relay. Five runners to cover the 26.2 mile course, as quickly as possible. I took the longest leg, which was billed as 6.5 miles. Garmin disagreed, claiming 6.7 miles. After sitting on a bus for HOURS waiting for my teammates (I was #4), I got the baton and ran the best 6ish miles since before the injury. The crowd was engaging, the other runners were inspiring, and the guy dressed as a scarecrow on stilts was just... I don't know. All members of our relay team and the other Muskegon relay team had great runs. It was the perfect way to kick off this last week.
So now we're beyond all the training, beyond the planning, scheming, dreaming and past the point of no return.
Because I really don't care how nerdy y'all think I am (and I know you do), here's your song lyrics of the day:
Risin' up back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
So many times, it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive
It's the Eye of the Tiger
It's the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he's watching us all With the Eye of the Tiger.
--Eye of the Tiger (Survivor)
Thank you all for your love, support, prayers and kind thoughts over these many months. I appreciate you all and can't wait to write my "thank you and next steps" blog!
Less than 4 days until the Howitzer sounds and then some 15 minutes later, I'll cross the starting line. For those of you who have never attended a HUGE race, it takes a lot of time for 30,000 people to cross the starting line. I'm guessing for the 12:00+ min/mile pace corral, it will be nearly 15 minutes.
It's been 17 weeks of training. Even more weeks of scheming and waffling and deciding and planning. And it's here. In a few hours Kari, Mike, Mom, Dad and I will get on a plane and head to DC for the big show. Marine Corps Marathon. So maybe the whole thing was nearly scuttled by the ridiculous federal government shutdown. No one wants to hear the rantings of a runner and a nonprofit worker on that situation. The good news is that the government is back working as well as it ever did (ha ha), and we're back on to run through one of the greatest cities in the world! Asking for fundraising support ONE LAST TIME!!! Be an Athletic Supporter!
I've been very remiss in my blogging lately. I haven't turned on my computer since the last blog. A wonderful feeling, although it just means that I've been killing the battery of my iPhone faster. I was totally geeked about my 20-miler last time. It was a hot mess. We went to Grand Rapids to do with the Grand Rapids Marathon training run and it wasn't exactly what I expected. The shirts were nice, the water/fuel stops were great and the staff was awesome! The number of people running my pace = 0. The directional signs, not so great. I got lost, I cried, I found my way back, I ran bonus tenths. After running 20.4 miles, I finally gave up and hitched a ride back with the Gazelle dude who was breaking down the pit stops. Slowest and most painful run of my season - honestly worse than the one after I sprained my ankle. Thankfully Kari and I went to Founders afterwards and I had a consolation beer, which makes everything better.
Redemption was needed. A plan was hatched. We're always hatching plans. Thus was born the Channel Challenge of 2013. The challenge? Run around Muskegon Lake from Margaret Drake Elliot Park to Muskegon State Park in North Muskegon by way of the Lakeshore trail and roads in North Muskegon. The week after the disastrous 20 miler, we started at sunrise and 3 hours and 40 minutes later, had run 16 miles and were approximately 50 yards from where we started. There just happened to be a body of water between us.
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| Yeah, it was pretty sweet |
The final "long" run was Sunday. The Grand Rapids Marathon Relay. Five runners to cover the 26.2 mile course, as quickly as possible. I took the longest leg, which was billed as 6.5 miles. Garmin disagreed, claiming 6.7 miles. After sitting on a bus for HOURS waiting for my teammates (I was #4), I got the baton and ran the best 6ish miles since before the injury. The crowd was engaging, the other runners were inspiring, and the guy dressed as a scarecrow on stilts was just... I don't know. All members of our relay team and the other Muskegon relay team had great runs. It was the perfect way to kick off this last week.
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| Grand Rapids Marathon really does have a great post party! |
So now we're beyond all the training, beyond the planning, scheming, dreaming and past the point of no return.
Because I really don't care how nerdy y'all think I am (and I know you do), here's your song lyrics of the day:
Risin' up back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
So many times, it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive
It's the Eye of the Tiger
It's the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he's watching us all With the Eye of the Tiger.
--Eye of the Tiger (Survivor)
Thank you all for your love, support, prayers and kind thoughts over these many months. I appreciate you all and can't wait to write my "thank you and next steps" blog!
Thursday, September 26, 2013
The long and winding road
Aaanndd... She's back!
After an extended hiatus, I remembered that I promised to blog about my marathon training. And just because the training hasn't been going swimmingly, I shouldn't abandon the blog. When things get tricky, it's even more important to tell the story of the marathon journey.
When I left off, weeks ago, I had tumbled to the ground, sprained my ankle and was sulking on the couch. It's 5 weeks later, we're 30 days out from the MARATHON and a lot (and a little) has happened in that time. My training took a total dive. For several weeks I barely ran at all, missing 2 long runs, only running once mid-week (and a short, slow run) each week and stepping back on my long run schedule. I had planned to KILL IT in September to make up for a lackluster August, due to a recurrent stomach issue. Instead I walked instead of ran and spent time worrying and feeling sore and sorry for myself.
Last year, when I trained for my first half-marathon, I did it alone. No training groups or long run buddies. It was difficult to get motivated and it wasn't always enjoyable. The best thing about the marathon training has been the long runs with the Summer Safari training group in Kalamazoo. However, just when I really needed my group that shuffles along at my slower than molasses pace, I picked up, packed up Penelope Cruze (Kari named my new car), and moved to Muskegon. I was now staring down the barrel of moving, a new job, recovering from injury, and running without my crew all at once.
Overwhelmed.
In the last 2 1/2 weeks I've managed to move many (certainly not all) of my things to Muskegon and get the newly remodeled house set up. The kitchen is in order and we've actually cooked meals, the living room has matching furniture and the TV mounted on the wall, the outlets and light switches are brand new - and that doesn't even count all the hired labor for the flooring, counters, painting, etc. The (mostly) clean house, with uncluttered counter tops and routinely made bed is peaceful and soothing, as my mind often runs much faster than my legs. The cat is enjoying the stillness of living on a street with next to no traffic and nearly silent neighbors. She sits in the open windows and listens to crickets - and stares down the cat next door. It's just right.
(Note: The one messy area in the house is "my room." The spare room with my dressers and things. I haven't gotten it together yet. I can sense your surprise from here.)
Back to the running. Since I've moved back I've gotten back to my long runs in an attempt to prepare for my longest training run (20 miles, this Saturday). My friend Kari has helped more than I can say in the last few weeks. She's significantly faster than me, but when I ran 12 miles on September 14th, she ran the first 6 with me, at my slow run/walk pace and interval - before going on to complete her 20 miler on her own! Last weekend, I wanted to run 16 miles (my longest by just a bit). I was waffling on when to do it, wasn't feeling motivated or excited. Kari and I hatched a plan to run around Spring Lake (with a 4 mile add-on) on Saturday morning. This time, she ran the entire thing at my pace, including walking intervals. I really don't know if I would have made it through so well without the companionship and support. The run was a great success, and I felt like I was flying afterwards. Granted, by 9:30 pm, I was demanding to go home from a party and go to bed - but that's what happens when you date a runner.
The road to the marathon has not been straight and narrow. It's been twisty, turny, LONG, and bumpy. And we're not done yet. 20 miles on Saturday and then the balancing act of the taper.
Future topics for thought: "Surviving your runner's mood swings" (will Mike guest post?), "The agony and the ecstasy of the taper," or "Hey, what's with that _______ (insert unsightly skin/foot/body part)?"
After an extended hiatus, I remembered that I promised to blog about my marathon training. And just because the training hasn't been going swimmingly, I shouldn't abandon the blog. When things get tricky, it's even more important to tell the story of the marathon journey.
When I left off, weeks ago, I had tumbled to the ground, sprained my ankle and was sulking on the couch. It's 5 weeks later, we're 30 days out from the MARATHON and a lot (and a little) has happened in that time. My training took a total dive. For several weeks I barely ran at all, missing 2 long runs, only running once mid-week (and a short, slow run) each week and stepping back on my long run schedule. I had planned to KILL IT in September to make up for a lackluster August, due to a recurrent stomach issue. Instead I walked instead of ran and spent time worrying and feeling sore and sorry for myself.
Last year, when I trained for my first half-marathon, I did it alone. No training groups or long run buddies. It was difficult to get motivated and it wasn't always enjoyable. The best thing about the marathon training has been the long runs with the Summer Safari training group in Kalamazoo. However, just when I really needed my group that shuffles along at my slower than molasses pace, I picked up, packed up Penelope Cruze (Kari named my new car), and moved to Muskegon. I was now staring down the barrel of moving, a new job, recovering from injury, and running without my crew all at once.
Overwhelmed.
In the last 2 1/2 weeks I've managed to move many (certainly not all) of my things to Muskegon and get the newly remodeled house set up. The kitchen is in order and we've actually cooked meals, the living room has matching furniture and the TV mounted on the wall, the outlets and light switches are brand new - and that doesn't even count all the hired labor for the flooring, counters, painting, etc. The (mostly) clean house, with uncluttered counter tops and routinely made bed is peaceful and soothing, as my mind often runs much faster than my legs. The cat is enjoying the stillness of living on a street with next to no traffic and nearly silent neighbors. She sits in the open windows and listens to crickets - and stares down the cat next door. It's just right.
(Note: The one messy area in the house is "my room." The spare room with my dressers and things. I haven't gotten it together yet. I can sense your surprise from here.)
Back to the running. Since I've moved back I've gotten back to my long runs in an attempt to prepare for my longest training run (20 miles, this Saturday). My friend Kari has helped more than I can say in the last few weeks. She's significantly faster than me, but when I ran 12 miles on September 14th, she ran the first 6 with me, at my slow run/walk pace and interval - before going on to complete her 20 miler on her own! Last weekend, I wanted to run 16 miles (my longest by just a bit). I was waffling on when to do it, wasn't feeling motivated or excited. Kari and I hatched a plan to run around Spring Lake (with a 4 mile add-on) on Saturday morning. This time, she ran the entire thing at my pace, including walking intervals. I really don't know if I would have made it through so well without the companionship and support. The run was a great success, and I felt like I was flying afterwards. Granted, by 9:30 pm, I was demanding to go home from a party and go to bed - but that's what happens when you date a runner.
The road to the marathon has not been straight and narrow. It's been twisty, turny, LONG, and bumpy. And we're not done yet. 20 miles on Saturday and then the balancing act of the taper.
 |
| After 12 miles at Pere Marquette Park |
Future topics for thought: "Surviving your runner's mood swings" (will Mike guest post?), "The agony and the ecstasy of the taper," or "Hey, what's with that _______ (insert unsightly skin/foot/body part)?"
 |
| A good place for the road to lead |
Saturday, August 24, 2013
There's No Crying in Running
Whew... what a rough day. Today was the long run for week 10 of my 19 week marathon training. And it sucked. Hard.
I've been struggling the past few weeks with ongoing gut issues that have hindered my midweek runs and caused anxiety going into longer runs. I'm gonna keep it classy and stop this conversation in its tracks.
This morning I woke up with an upset stomach and feeling nervous about not having run enough through the week. The group was running out in Gull Lake (25 minutes away), so I needed to get up and get it together early. I did all the usual things, ate my banana and waffles, got all my gear together and left in plenty of time.
I arrived at Gull Lake to find that the gas station with the 1 solitary bathroom stall for 150 runners was closed, and the bathroom was out of order anyways. I choked back panic and headed for the woods. And met this fence:
The fence did not look like that when I started. I tried to hop it and the wet, rotted wooden fence gave way. I fell to the ground, scraping my arm and landing on my right ankle. I sat on the wet ground, fighting back furious tears, not sure if I could get up - and I still had to pee! Adding insult to injury of peeing in the woods - now my skort was wet from the ground.
I hobbled back to the group, about ready to pack it in and head back to bed. A team mate encouraged me to consult another coach who is an athletic trainer. He basically said given my pain level, I could try it out, see how it goes and hopefully get some miles in. Because once I stopped, sat down and went home, it's going to swell and will be worse tomorrow. So no easy out - and I started.
I won't give you a play by play, but will say that what could go wrong, did - including the stiffness in my ankle after stopping at water stops, cramping in my calves and hamstrings, and getting stung by something on my left foot. At the 13 mile point, we were back at the start - and I wanted to stop, but Kathy told me to put on my big girl panties (direct quote) and do the last few miles out and back. Fine. FINE. I did it. It was quite hilly and I walked more of those last few miles than I would have liked, but I did it. And now I'm icing and watching "The Spirit of the Marathon" on Netflix.
If you need me, I'll be on the couch.
I've been struggling the past few weeks with ongoing gut issues that have hindered my midweek runs and caused anxiety going into longer runs. I'm gonna keep it classy and stop this conversation in its tracks.
This morning I woke up with an upset stomach and feeling nervous about not having run enough through the week. The group was running out in Gull Lake (25 minutes away), so I needed to get up and get it together early. I did all the usual things, ate my banana and waffles, got all my gear together and left in plenty of time.
I arrived at Gull Lake to find that the gas station with the 1 solitary bathroom stall for 150 runners was closed, and the bathroom was out of order anyways. I choked back panic and headed for the woods. And met this fence:
 |
| There's a reason I never picked up steeplechase |
The fence did not look like that when I started. I tried to hop it and the wet, rotted wooden fence gave way. I fell to the ground, scraping my arm and landing on my right ankle. I sat on the wet ground, fighting back furious tears, not sure if I could get up - and I still had to pee! Adding insult to injury of peeing in the woods - now my skort was wet from the ground.
I hobbled back to the group, about ready to pack it in and head back to bed. A team mate encouraged me to consult another coach who is an athletic trainer. He basically said given my pain level, I could try it out, see how it goes and hopefully get some miles in. Because once I stopped, sat down and went home, it's going to swell and will be worse tomorrow. So no easy out - and I started.
So I told Kathy (our pace group leader) that there's no crying in running - and then quickly amended the statement. Who am I kidding? There's definitely crying in running.
I won't give you a play by play, but will say that what could go wrong, did - including the stiffness in my ankle after stopping at water stops, cramping in my calves and hamstrings, and getting stung by something on my left foot. At the 13 mile point, we were back at the start - and I wanted to stop, but Kathy told me to put on my big girl panties (direct quote) and do the last few miles out and back. Fine. FINE. I did it. It was quite hilly and I walked more of those last few miles than I would have liked, but I did it. And now I'm icing and watching "The Spirit of the Marathon" on Netflix.
If you need me, I'll be on the couch.
Monday, August 5, 2013
A banner week
Sunday night... And week 7 comes to a close. (ok, I didn't get this posted on Sunday, but you get the idea)
It's been 7 weeks of training for the Marine Corps Marathon with the Gazelle Sports Summer Safari crew and I'm enjoying it more every week. It's taken me a while to settle in and I've had some set backs, but with just over a third of the training completed, I'm feeling calm and confident. Of course we haven't gotten to the tough runs yet, but I think I'm ready.
This was a GREAT week! I finally made it back to EcoTrek on Monday night, had a decent 4 mile run (including the dreaded Maple St. hill) on Wednesday, did 5.6 on Thursday with Shawn and Jenn, 8 miles with the Summer Safari crew on Saturday and hit my first ever Dirty Herd today for 4.4 miles of trails at Al Sabo. While the long run was shorter this week, I'm incredibly happy that I did 4 solid runs and EcoTrek. A really successful week.
I said a few posts ago that I would talk about being an "achiever" and a runner's body. As a "back of the packer," I'm currently at what I'd call "participant" status. I tend to categorize runners in three main clumps: Performers - those who win their age group, win overall, continually work up the ranks and really, you know who they are. We don't know many of these people.
Then there are the Achievers: those runners who have been running for years, have made steady progress in their PRs, finish in the top half of their age group and have a healthy dose of experience under their belt. I know a lot of people that live here. And a lot more on their way to this level.
I'm in the third category. Participants. We make sure there is someone for the rest of you to finish in front of. We are the beginners or veterans who are in the back of the pack, running 2:30+ half marathons. Hoping to run a 5:45 marathon. In the 12:00+ pace group. Our long runs take twice as long and our fast runs clock in at 5 miles/hour.
This sounds a bit like slow runner whining, but it really isn't. On Sunday afternoon, I pulled up to Al Sabo for the Dirty Herd, expecting at least 25 people, as the Urban Herd easily draws 50 - 75. There were 10. All experienced trail runners, marathoners and ultra-marathoners. I hesitated and almost got back in my car and left. Then the group leader recognized me from Summer Safari. As expected, I was the only slow runner. I did not expect to be the slowest by 3 - 4 minutes/mile. This was also my "recovery" run after 8 on Saturday so I wasn't planning on going hard. The group leader and his running partner kept looping around back for me, to make sure I didn't get lost and didn't make me feel bad about my slow pace, walk breaks or causing them extra miles. Considering they had run in the morning, run 5 miles before everyone got there and the running buddy said her last race was a 100 miler, I'm guessing they didn't mind. Talk about performers.
At the end, they asked if I got in the miles I needed to, if I felt good and if I had fun. The answer to all 3: a resounding YES! A huge push out of my comfort zone to go out and run with the gazelles, but I'm working every time to not be embarrassed by my pace or ability. Running trails is good for my strength and (relative) speed and if that means causing some speed demons to loop back to check on me, I'm ok.
Showing up is half the battle.
I'll leave you with a quote that Dave wisely posted several weeks ago:
"I don't have a runner's body, but I have a runner's heart - and that is all you need." - Sergeant Jennifer Morris, United States Army
OK... one FINAL word. I've made HUGE leaps in my fundraising for the Epilepsy Therapy Project. Please consider bringing me closer to my goal of $1500!
It's been 7 weeks of training for the Marine Corps Marathon with the Gazelle Sports Summer Safari crew and I'm enjoying it more every week. It's taken me a while to settle in and I've had some set backs, but with just over a third of the training completed, I'm feeling calm and confident. Of course we haven't gotten to the tough runs yet, but I think I'm ready.
This was a GREAT week! I finally made it back to EcoTrek on Monday night, had a decent 4 mile run (including the dreaded Maple St. hill) on Wednesday, did 5.6 on Thursday with Shawn and Jenn, 8 miles with the Summer Safari crew on Saturday and hit my first ever Dirty Herd today for 4.4 miles of trails at Al Sabo. While the long run was shorter this week, I'm incredibly happy that I did 4 solid runs and EcoTrek. A really successful week.
I said a few posts ago that I would talk about being an "achiever" and a runner's body. As a "back of the packer," I'm currently at what I'd call "participant" status. I tend to categorize runners in three main clumps: Performers - those who win their age group, win overall, continually work up the ranks and really, you know who they are. We don't know many of these people.
Then there are the Achievers: those runners who have been running for years, have made steady progress in their PRs, finish in the top half of their age group and have a healthy dose of experience under their belt. I know a lot of people that live here. And a lot more on their way to this level.
I'm in the third category. Participants. We make sure there is someone for the rest of you to finish in front of. We are the beginners or veterans who are in the back of the pack, running 2:30+ half marathons. Hoping to run a 5:45 marathon. In the 12:00+ pace group. Our long runs take twice as long and our fast runs clock in at 5 miles/hour.
This sounds a bit like slow runner whining, but it really isn't. On Sunday afternoon, I pulled up to Al Sabo for the Dirty Herd, expecting at least 25 people, as the Urban Herd easily draws 50 - 75. There were 10. All experienced trail runners, marathoners and ultra-marathoners. I hesitated and almost got back in my car and left. Then the group leader recognized me from Summer Safari. As expected, I was the only slow runner. I did not expect to be the slowest by 3 - 4 minutes/mile. This was also my "recovery" run after 8 on Saturday so I wasn't planning on going hard. The group leader and his running partner kept looping around back for me, to make sure I didn't get lost and didn't make me feel bad about my slow pace, walk breaks or causing them extra miles. Considering they had run in the morning, run 5 miles before everyone got there and the running buddy said her last race was a 100 miler, I'm guessing they didn't mind. Talk about performers.
At the end, they asked if I got in the miles I needed to, if I felt good and if I had fun. The answer to all 3: a resounding YES! A huge push out of my comfort zone to go out and run with the gazelles, but I'm working every time to not be embarrassed by my pace or ability. Running trails is good for my strength and (relative) speed and if that means causing some speed demons to loop back to check on me, I'm ok.
Showing up is half the battle.
I'll leave you with a quote that Dave wisely posted several weeks ago:
"I don't have a runner's body, but I have a runner's heart - and that is all you need." - Sergeant Jennifer Morris, United States Army
 |
| Al Sabo Preserve, Meadow |
OK... one FINAL word. I've made HUGE leaps in my fundraising for the Epilepsy Therapy Project. Please consider bringing me closer to my goal of $1500!
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