I’m sitting here in Washington DC, in my friend’s apartment.  I flew in on a redeye flight on Wednesday night/Thursday morning, and have been trying to acclimate myself to the EST situation.  My internal clock says California, and I’m trying to stay awake…so I guess I should blog.

This has been an interesting few months.   This marathon training cycle has been characterized by vertigo, broken toes, pre-menopause, whatever.  It seems like every time I turned around, there was some new issue to deal with.  But, not normal issues…weird ones.  It was also the time that I no longer connected with my ex husband.  We’ve really been at odds for some time now, so there has been no positive connection in awhile. 

This training cycle has been characterized by one word: change.

I’ve lost a few good  friends in my life.  Someone who I have known and loved for many years, left a group of friends that I love.  A few girls I’ve worked with in the program have gone their own ways.  My ex husband is truly gone.  A man or two whom I met and carried on with …gone.  Mostly this training cycle, while running here and there and hitting and missing some runs..mostly this cycle has been about telling the truth.  All the time.

And with that…I have gained some amazing people.

Tonight, I plan on dishing and dining with a whole handful of them at our Marine Corps Marathon tweetup.  And then again tomorrow…to meet the people who live in the east, hang out, eat…and really connect on an organic level.  So excited and very cool.

A man I knew 30 years ago has recently come into my life.  I loved him like crazy as a young girl.  He was the driving force in my early sobriety, and I can remember hours sitting with these 2 men who showed and taught me more about sobriety in the early days.  One has passed away, but the other… this man…just recently showed up, like people have a way of doing.  And I adore him.  And we are older.  Both sober.  A friend I hope to have for a long time…at some point. 

Tons of women I’ve met have become permanent fixtures in my daily life.  Not just on Twitter, but moved to Instant Messaging, then text, then daily phone calls…then meeting at races.  And now, I have a wealth of people that I love. 

And, I have learned to tell the truth.  When a relationship is over, I need to call it.  Not wait for YOU to call it.  When a friendship is at risk, I need to say it.  No more elephants in the room.  No more pretending that it will blow over.  Because, sometimes, it doesn’t blow over…and you cover it up, and then one day someone wants to kill the other over spilled coffee. 

In my family, my sons and I have a weekly family meeting.  Each week someone takes a turn leading it.  We all do a thumbs up and down for the week.  We take turns talking to someone that we are upset with.  We talk about real family issues.  And no one gets in trouble for what they say.  My 13 and 11 year old…and me.  We have a ritual.  We tell the truth.

And while it’s very easy to do in my family, it hasn’t always been easy to do it in my adult relationships.

Until now.  Because telling the truth, while sometimes can be painful…is always the truth…and people know it whether or not you say it is so.

Washington DC:  You are lovely.  I’m on my way to your city this day, to explore…to meet…to eat…and to prepare for Sunday…for Marathon #3.

Image by vns2009 via Flickr

This Sunday in Mammoth, CA, I ran my very first trail run.  I’m afraid to even blog about it, because it’s that magical date you went on, and you don’t want to talk about it, because you might ruin every minute you keep re-living.  Like Cinderella, you want the sparkle to stay perfect in your memory…

Disclaimer:  I was taking pictures and tweeting without my glasses, which is sad in another kind of way…that I can use my iPhone with that much accuracy, and not be able to see…  However, I digress.  What I want to say is that some of the pics (okay one) I wouldn’t have uploaded…had I seen my, uh, Mammoth Rocks.  Oh well, I have breasts.  Deal with it. 

Ned’s Mammoth Rock Race: Sunday, September 5… I only signed up to do this race, because I was scheduled for a boat load of miles, but my family tends to want me around for our annual family trip, so with broken toe and bouts of vertigo, I decided to sign up…because that would at least get me out of the condo.

I arrive in Mammoth around 7:30 for a 9am race with trepidation in my heart, and the first thing I notice, is these trail people.  They’re not like us.  Not an iPod in sight.  Not a care in the world…and everyone seems…80 years old.  I go and meet the race director, who is amazing and sweet and kind, and welcomes me to my first trail race.  It was pretty cool.   I thought…wow, sparkly starting line …COOL!  It was the only thing that resembled a road race the rest of the day.

The race director tells us we are walking across Old Mammoth Road.  To the start line.  Over there, and this is really the Finish Line.  So we start our trot across the road to what I can only describe as mostly desolate.  She reads the story of Ned, a 6 year old who died of leukemia in 1947…when leukemia was definitely a death sentence for anyone.  Ned’s brother was born a year later, and although it’s not a TNT event, they certainly are linked up to it, which is cool, since I ran Nike last year, and was a TNT runner.

Yes, this is me, at the back of the pack.  The race starts.

Mile 1:  Okay, I am panting, and I haven’t moved a half mile yet.  Maybe it was the 7600 feet elevation, or the lack of training, or perhaps it was d) all of the above.  I kept repeating the mantra I heard on Twitter.  “Just have fun” RIIIIIGHT….that first mile was sand.  Like running on sand in the ocean.  In your tennis shoes.  By the time I hit Mile 1, my calves were all awake and screaming…like, “Hey thanks for using us today”.

Mile 2:  Up.  That’s all I have to say.  Straight up.  And, I’m watching people walk, and I have Grandpas passing me, and look!  Here comes a horse!  And rocks and dirt and up up up.  There’s a little shade here and there, but it only serves to remind me that we are just going up.  I think it took me 25 minutes to do the second mile.  Then the blood started pounding in my ears, and I thought, I have no choice.  I have to keep going.  Like, if I die right here, it might be next Spring before anyone finds me.  I see a guy walking, and I know I will catch up to him.  Not bloody likely.

Mile 3:  All of a sudden I remember this man saying to me in the beginning:  “It’s a beautiful trail, very technical, and so much sightseeing.  But, don’t look down, no matter what you do.”  So, I remember his advice, but I’m temporarily lulled by the trees.  They sounded like they were clapping.  It was so windy, there was a cacophony of beautiful music.  I twisted my ankle on a rock.  Three times.  Big rocks, little rocks, and I thought “I can’t believe the race director didn’t move these on the course”.  And I kept looking three steps ahead, so I wouldn’t accidentally trip.  Mind you, we are still going up.  I looked down.  Stupid move.  I think I kept moving so as to just get away from the ledge, which was a rocky steep decline…and if you fell, there was nothing there to hang on to.  Except jutting rocks.  More rocks.  At one point as we came to Mile Marker 3, you could look down and see the whole town of Mammoth.  I was running/walking with a 26 year old (yeah!), and she took this picture of me at the top.  Here’s another picture.  In the right corner, you can see a red shirt.  That’s the trail.  And it was starting to level out.  Up Up Up, teasing down, flat, up up up…

Mile 4-5-6:  It seems as though Mother Nature really loved me now.  Because that descent?  It was 2 miles long.  And the 26 year old I ran with was behind me a half mile at the end, but hey I never caught the Grandpa…but the descent was long and glorious.  The wind at my back.  Shade.  However, my feet were confused, because we were now on Old Mammoth Road.  No more rocks, twigs, shady paths.  No dirt.  Just road.  And I finally got it.  Why trail runners like trails.  Because it’s not a road.  My feet had been busy for the last hour jumping up and around.   Yeah, you read that right.  An hour to get up 3 miles, and a half hour to get down.  I was slightly bored at this point!  If you can believe that!

My overall impression:  It’s a lot like pregnancy.  You have this thing you must deal with.  While you’re dealing with it, it’s the most horrid thing ever.  Then you have your baby, and you forget the vomiting, the nausea, the weight gain, and you just look into the eyes of the most beautiful baby ever.  Yes.  Here is my baby.  The medal made of rock.  And yeah, the picture you’ve been waiting for.  I’ve got breasts.  And just like having a baby, you don’t care who sees your privates…cuz you’ve got your baby!!!

I was 88 out of 93, and I was 4/4 in my age group.  But, I cannot WAIT to do trail running again.  There is nothing like it.   I am not a fast runner.  I’m out of shape because when I stop running I don’t stop eating.  So I gotta drop some weight this week.

However.  Mammoth Rock gave me back the mojo I didn’t even know I was missing.  (PS-Andrew Kastor, husband of Deena Kastor won first place.  Runners, such cool people.)

I’m thrilled to get on with it.  Did 7 miles this morning, and next stop:  Nike Women’s Half Marathon & Marine Corps Marathon in October.

Here’s the route.  Half of the trail was in shade.  Amazing, and great.

Related Articles

Mammoth Lakes is happy not to be Tahoe (sfgate.com)

Image via Wikipedia

Monday, I broke my toe.  In the middle of 4th period, I am walking to let my students in, and slammed it right into the corner of a desk.  Lucky for me, and for my students, they did not hear what I yelled in my head.  The first thing I thought was…Oh. My.  I am training for a marathon…and anyone who came to me in the nurse’s office heard me say the same thing. “I’m training for a marathon”.  Some poor Freshman came in and I said this to him, and he’s like, “uh, I’m just here to check my blood sugar.”  and I’m all…uh… He’s a diabetic, and I’m complaining because I’m training for a marathon.

And, so what this does for me is make me take a step back.  To take a breath.  To sort of put this into proper perspective.  Yeah, my feel look like hell, because I don’t believe I should get a pedicure while I’m training.  I’ve worked hard enough, thank you, to get all the calluses I need.  But in the moment that the football coach tried to wrap my toe, I was humiliated that my feet looked like something from the black lagoon. 

I walk back into my classroom two hours later.  And, I slammed it into the same desk.  Same desk, same toe.  Same screaming, outloud because no one was around me.

I cannot run, and I cannot even put on a shoe.  I’m told not to run for a week, and here’s where I think I have a problem.  I’m not tapering, I’m weeks away from the Marine Corps Marathon.  Everything is the same.  Except that I’m restless.  I am awake late late at night because I don’t have an early morning run.  I’m watching too much TV.  I’m waiting and watching my broken toe to see if it gets smaller.  It doesn’t get smaller.

It’s only been a week, but it’s been a long week.  Broken toes heal.  I have lots of blog posts roaming around in my head.  About broken hearts, and loving people, and home mortgage woes and the Los Angeles Dodgers, but really.  I have this little 1 inch piece of my body that has been consuming me.  I bend and stretch it at every opportunity, hoping for the signal that I can use it again.

Looking to try it out tomorrow.

Related Articles

• Things Your Toes Absolutely Hate (yearofstyle.blogspot.com)
• MYTHS & MILESTONES: What your toes say about you… (runningwithheels.com)

PS:  WordPress now lets me add pictures and links, so I don’t have to hunt all over the web.  I’m loving it!!!

I’m running The Marine Corps Marathon on October 31, 2010.  I’m raising funds for the Diabetes Action Team.  Go HERE if you’d like to donate.  Go HERE if you want to support my other teammate and coach, Speedy Sasquatch!  Thanks for supporting TEAM LALA.

A few weeks ago, I wrote this post about Twitter becoming my real life.  This morning, I sit in San Antonio, Texas by the good graces of more Twitter friends.  I’ve decided that using the term “real life” doesn’t really work for me anymore.  I’ve written before, how in 1988 I did AA meetings online, “met” people online, but they stayed online.  Most people I met from that era, were just sorta odd.  Probably including me.

A few years ago, I was on the Weight Watcher message boards.  No, make that 7 years ago.  I met some women, we started a Yahoo group, and we mostly exchanged information there.  Then, we decided to meet.  There were 13 of us.  What is left of us, is 6 girls who meet every summer.  Yes, they started out online, but they have become my real friends.  We have a blog.  We check in daily.

I never did take to Facebook, and I’m within days of permanent deletion (on my third try), because yes, I love to look at all your details, and I will, wasting 4 hours at a time.  It’s just not really good for me.

I found Twitter a year ago.   I’ve met many people, most of whom have turned out to be really great people.  And, those connections have evolved.  Just like life, your interests change, your focus changes, and your support team changes.  I’ve been using Twitter primarily for fun and for free.  Chit chatting at 140 characters at a time. 

And then, this summer hits.  And, the above mentioned blog post was about hooking up and having fun in San Diego.  It was a blast.  I came home, and had a week without my children, as they were in Los Angeles with my Mom and Dad.  And my cousin’s Dad died (last post), and Yasmine sends me a Jet Blue ticket…literally out of the blue.  I get to Virginia and meet Neal and Justin, and play foursquare.

I get back and go to Bass Lake, where one night…ONE NIGHT…I am waiting for my friend Ron to cross the finish at IronMan…and i have no internet connection, just relying on tweets, and Penny is sending me text updates, and I am on pins and needles because I know he needs to cross the finish before 17 hours…which he does, in 16:45…and I am jumping up and down in a cabin, and this is so far beyond “internet life”. 

I’m at Bass Lake, and Lisa had previously asked if I wanted to come to San Antonio for the AA International Convention.  I hadn’t been since 1995, and it was overwhelming and wonderful, but I just couldn’t swing another ticket.  On Wednesday, I ask Lisa, if that’s still available, and from the lake, she gets the ticket, and tells me she has a place for me to stay.  Internet friends?  I think not.

I go to this convention, where I typically experience the same thing in crowds every time.  I feel alone and lonely, and even with 31 years of sobriety, I cannot seem to connect.  I finally find a regular panel meeting …We go to the Friday Night Flag Ceremony, and I have chills.  We listen as speakers, regular speakers talk about their regular lives.  No big shots.  And, Saturday…I’m still walking around.  Lisa and Gretchen go to lunch, and I go to a place called Sober City, and I’m talking to this guy about the Flying Pig Marathon, which is on my to-do list, and this man comes up and asks him, “Do you know a guy named…”

And, I turn around, and it’s Larry.  Larry, who moved in with me 21 days after I left my first husband.  No, I’m not proud of this, but he had a profound impact on my life.  It wasn’t really a life decision, he needed a place to stay and I had one…BUT, I was madly in love with him, and he was just passing through…my kind of man.  He was also 3 years more sober than me, and was getting a divorce too.  Match made in heaven.

And here is where the impact comes in.  I had 10 years of sobriety, but I had no conscious contact with a god or God.  I used God in a 9-1-1-.  HELP! situation.  Larry would pray and meditate every day.  He would say he can’t connect or talk or do anything until he had his quiet time.  I couldn’t understand this, and in my 30 year old head, I would get this guy to love me…so I decided I would do the pray and meditate game.  I would hear his Harley drive up at night, and I would turn off the lights and light candles and pretend to pray when he walked in.  And, I would fake that I was getting a spiritual connection.

And then one day, he moved along.  Back to Arizona…and I visited him once there, but we were just not suited for each other.

But.  I continued to pray and meditate.  And have hardly missed a day since 1989.  And Larry, with the one eyebrow and Harley gave that to me.  And, I never judge how people get to God.  Just get here.  It doesn’t matter how.

So, I look up at this AA Convention, and there is Larry.  And we hug, and I bawl.  And I see the twinkle in his eyes.  The man who gave me God.  Because I was dishonest and was trying to keep him as my boyfriend.  And we go and catch up, and we have 6 divorces between us, and he has a bunch of kids, and found out after he left me, that he had PTSD from Vietnam.  And we laugh.  And all is well.

He orders 4 shots of Espresso, because…as he says, “We’re real alcoholics”.  And I laugh, because this is the man I know and love.  He and all his brothers are sober, and they save us seats at the big meeting, and one of his brothers is 90 days sober.

I cry.  I hear the music of Chapter Five.  I see my sponsor.  I see my AA sisters.  I see people I love and adore…and I realize that the friends I’ve met on Twitter are my real friends.  In my real life.  And I couldn’t ask for better people.  And, I will tell you this.  I needed to see Larry.  To remember my real purpose on this planet.  To be of service to the still sick and suffering alcoholic.  That my purpose is not ME ME ME.

And today, we go to an AA meeting in San Antonio, and we are going to the hospital, because Lisa got a call that an alcoholic needed some support.  And even and especially when it is inconvenient, we stay on the firing line of life.

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Giveaways

Healthy Ashley is giving away Bondi Band Headbands.  I.  Want.

Chic Runner is giving away iFitness Belts!  I have, and want another.

The iFitness belt is the one that I bought before the LA Marathon, and rode it on my hips, under armpits, butt, etc.  Held it even.    Nothing new on marathon day…so I will try it again this week!!

March Miles: 129.20 It was a long month.  Capped off with two weeks of recovery.  Gonna hit 1000 a year if I start running soon.

Old Shoes: There may be a reason I bonked in LA:  Apparently, I over pronate.  My coach is having a cow.  And I love him for it.  Shoe shopping is on tap.  Today

Yoga: I went to a Yoga class.  Apparently, I have become unflexible and tight.  I have NO upper body strength.  I say weakly to the teacher, “but I just ran a marathon!!!”  She could give a shit.  I’m tight. 

Polls I asked my followers on Twitter to DM me privately if they are married and have never cheated.  Ever.  Boy, was my inbox full today.  Faith in humanity:  restored.

Races: I have signed up for Bay to Breakers.  It’s supposed to be fun. 

Carry on…

Part 3: My grandfather’s letter, the metaphor of the marathon, the KTLA coverage, the family support.  The will to try again…How something this bad…can be this fun.  What my coach gives me.  Every day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Wednesday, and I am trying to make sense of the weekend.  The high hopes, the dashed dreams. 

And, really…in perspective, I simply have to let go.

When I got to my parent’s house on Sunday, I was incredibly pale, and my littlest sister (mile 20) made me a grilled cheese sandwhich with chips.  Lots of chips.  2 regular Cokes.  I had a horrible headache.  I took a shower, put on my compression socks.  Sat in the chair.  Trying to make sense of my day.  My middle Wineyard sister showed up with her family.  They had been in Santa Monica.  All. Day.  It was a long day for everyone.  Troopers!!!

When I got the finisher’s medal, it was very anticlimatic.  I got the medal, I had to look for a mylar blanket, I had to go to the Medic as promised.  They cleared me quickly, but I forgot I was supposed to check in at all the medic stations on the course.  I wandered around.  I walked down to the beach, to the finisher’s area.  I sat under the letter V.  I was sitting next to a guy with headphones on, just chilling.  There were a few of us there.

I saw the baggage check trucks.   And then, my family found me.  And they hugged me and told me how proud of me they were.  I was pretty upset.  But, it was the way they again held me up.  I was so grateful.

As the day went on, and the family continued to stream in and inquire as to how I was, I realized that I was so lucky to have them.

• My grandfather’s letter:  Later in the evening, my father came to me with tears in his eyes.  He told me that he was so proud that I got to the finish line.  He reminded me that I work with students who have no one waiting for them at the finish line.  That I should use this experience of the marathon bonk, as a metaphor for what they could accomplish.  That I got up.  That I continued when it was ugly.  That I put my pride aside for the better good, and got to the end.  Then, he went and got a letter he had saved from when he was in college.  It was from my Grandpa.  The letter told my Dad the same thing he told me.  Get up.  Get along with people.  Finish strong.  That he was so proud of my Dad for graduating from college.
• KTLA Coverage of the LA Marathon: My parents DVR’d the Marathon coverage.  It was so amazing to see the very race I was in.  To see the elite women and men.  To see the hill.  They kept saying that Heartbreak Hill in Boston was 80 ft, while mile 4 (?) was 90 feet.  They kept the cameras on that mile all morning.  It was truly a joyous morning to watch all three hours of it.  My hat is off to the LA Marathon.  What a beautiful course.
• My coach: The day before the marathon, he sent me the most lovely email I’ve ever received…because I’ve never been athletic in my life.  Ever.  And, what he gave me in that letter I will save forever.  My mother is the only person I’ve let read it.  So, I was in good shape.  He believed in me, and I believed in me.  When I finally got to my car after the race, I got this text from him. I had to deal with his concern in my head from mile 6-8.  I had finally tried to stop worrying that he was worried.  He’s my coach, after all.  It’s sort of his job.  But, the reason I love this man, is that even with all the blood, sweat and tears, and trying to sort everything out, he is wicked smart.  He knew something was wrong when he got my first 10K splits.   I trust him implicitly.  The text simply said,
  • Talk to me, goose.

And I’ve talked, and he’s listened, and I listened, and he’s lifted me up.

In these final moments of wrestling with the marathon, I am at peace with what happened, and it wasn’t my day.  I learned a lot.  There’s a lot of love in running.  The fact that I’m considering doing it again at all is amazing.  I got a cake from my nephew.  I got beautiful emails, texts, calls, bloggy love.  But, this one…my favorite…from my neice’s husband, Glenn.  (I sent him a picture of me, with Frank McCourt, and here is his reply)

That picture is AWESOME!!!! You…sister…look SMOKIN’ HOT!   Whatever it is you’ve been doing–keep doing it– You look beyond fantastic! FYI– you’re supposed to say, “Right?” to that…

Anyway, on to the point of this email–

Just so you know, Liane and I are SO incredibly PROUD of you for what you accomplished today.  I know you didn’t meet the goal you set for yourself…and that is probably very disappointing for you…but you TOUGHED IT OUT, you finished what you started, and nowadays that is VERY rare.

Seriously…you were hurt…your goal was out of reach…you had medics giving you EVERY REASON  to quit and YOU FINIHSED.

That is something to be very VERY proud of, Linda…

So please, Please, PLEASE — take pride in what you accomplished today.  Enjoy it and try to bask in it a little…you DESERVE IT and you EARNED IT.

You are awesome…and we LOVE YOU !!!!!!

XOXO L & G

Hi all,

 

Linda ran in the LA Marathon last Sunday.  I’m attaching some pictures taken at the dinner the night before the race and one of Linda, DD, and I after the race.

 

Linda made arrangements with the guy in charge of the dinner for DD to meet the rich and famous.  DD didn’t know about the meeting.  Because DD has been a long time USC fan, Pete Carroll was a plus.

 

We were quite proud of Linda because she got very ill at mile 19, but refused to let the paramedics take her to the hospital.  Instead, she recovered and finished the race.

 

Don & DD

And then.  The final message from my AA sponsor.  That maybe it really wasn’t all about me…: 

Today, you gave your parents the daughter you were meant to be.

Who wouldn’t want to do this again?