I have finally cleaned up the links on my page.
On the right border, you’ll see the category, “bloggy love”. I made a Pinterest board with all my favorite blogs. If you click on it here, you’ll find all my favorite blogs, which I think is pretty cool. At a glance, you can see the best (as I see it).
In other news. I’m getting out of the house today. I may go to the gym. I may not. But. I’m getting out.
I got some weird flu on Tuesday night, ending me achy and tired on Wednesday.
I had a long run Wednesday, so I figured, well, I’ll do it Thursday.
Thursday came and went. As has Friday. Each day has brought a spate of symptoms. First the sore throat, then that left only to be replaced by sneezing. That left, and then. Sniffles. All through the week, the aching and general feeling of malaise set in.
I’m not stupid. I know that I will not lose the power that I’ve gotten from 12 weeks of Hanson training. I know that my quads will not go soft. I do know that if I continue to eat like I’ve been training, however, I will gain weight. So. Starve a cold or feed a fever? I have no idea. All I know is that I want carbs. Lots of carbs.
When I’m sick, all I want is someone to take care of me. Harley Guy is 100 miles away, and My Mom is more than that. I’m 53. I should know how to take care of myself. But I tend to get all needy and whiny.
That. Plus, I’m not running. I’m trying not to panic. Really I’m not.
Today was a planned 16 mile run. I went to bed feeling like something was going to beat me down, and by 5am that feeling was confirmed. It’s a sore throat, but achy all over. It’s not sneezy breezy, but just general can’t drag my body anywhere because there’s lead in my legs. And, not from running.
Today is Leap Year. It’s the day that women get to propose, but only if you’re Irish, *so I’m told*…but it’s the cancellation of a run day. An LSD run day, which is SO important. If I missed a run in the old days, I would try to shove those miles in somewhere. I would panic until the miles were “made up” after an illness.
However, much like missing work, you have some stuff to catch up on, but you really have 80 emails that don’t even really apply to you anymore, so you do the best you can with today’s tasks, and keep on doing the next task that comes your way.
So it is with today. I will rest until I lose this bug. If not today, then tomorrow. Because. I know in Marathon training, if you aren’t listening to your body now, you won’t be listening at Mile 20.
Oh. And I love my $2 wall calendar. Those numbers circled? The miles I ran each day. Pretty proud. 140.41 for the month. 2 months until the marathon, and I’m right where I should be.
Leap Year couldn’t have come at a better time.
I bought Crash Davis in December 2009.
3 Marathons later, countless miles tracked.
And finally, the dog has died.
I am sending it back today…just like Crash Davis.
Being shipped to AAA ball.
But, I loved this watch. It’s big computer like thingy on my arm.
No, I don’t want the cute little circle watch.
Just this one, please.
Garmin is sending me another one. Refurbed. $55.
So, I say goodbye to Crash Davis.
And thank this watch for all the life and miles and trips.
It’s gone from California, to Virginia, to Washington DC.
To San Antonio, to Los Angeles.
And now, it’s going home.
RIP
1854.81 miles.
Everyone knows that I am having a STELLAR training cycle. Like, this might be the time I nail that PR at the San Luis Obispo Marathon.
On my birthday, I awoke with dread from an email. Yes, one of those emails. The one that says “you’re doing it wrong”. I cried. I called for help. I finally had had enough of the stress, and decided that I could not do this to my life. This angst, this fear when I turn on the computer. Oh yeah, and it was my 53rd birthday.
I’ve lost weight the right way. 15 pounds in 3 months or so. Perfectly slow, which is what I wanted, because I don’t want to lose the muscle. I also counted calories, using The Daily Plate…because I get in a trap that I’ve run 8 miles, so I deserve a burger. And fries. And maybe a milkshake. Well, this time, I didn’t do that. I counted. I ate right.
Harley Guy and I have had movement in a very positive direction. We ended our 13 month relationship. I focused on my recovery. I cleaned up my past with amends and worked on the maintenance steps of our program. I got healthier than I have ever been when it comes to relationship addiction. Then, of course, we discovered that we are both still in love with each other. We spent some precious time together, and then both came to terms with the realities of the relationship: We are 100 miles apart, to start with. We have some different and possibly conflicting ideas about how to spend our adulthood. I have teenagers, he has some adventurous dreams of his own. That kind of stuff. That being said, we are going to see where this goes. We are together…but neither one sure of what will happen. I remain, in love with him, and he with me. Very interesting turn of events.
Then I hit a mental wall. And, I pray it’s a coincidence. That none of the above made it happen…because, I have trouble with balance on good days. Last week, I was just tired. I looked at my schedule. 9 or so weeks to go of six days of running. And I just went…um…no. The last few runs have been very sluggish. I went to a spiritual retreat last weekend and ate like the end of the world was coming, and added 2 pounds.
Today, I made an 8 mile run at 11:53, when it should have been 11:45-11:15. I had to fight to stay under 12:00. I missed my tempo run on Sunday due to hours of driving, so I kept up with the schedule.
Funny about the Hanson plan. I am stronger at the end of every run. I save the last .2 miles for sprinting of some sort. I have 10 tomorrow. I pray I have not hit a wall, because I have a hell of a long way to go.
Week 10 and done. 37 miles. 7-5-6-10-6-3x1s.
Rest. I’m no longer looking at the rest day as a day to overeat or splurge. I look at it as part of training. I am no longer seeking the rest day as relief from running, for God’s sake. It truly is a time for my legs to re-energize. For my soul to replenish. For me to wash everything and get it ready for Sunday.
Because on Sunday, I start again…I run a tempo. A tempo of 12:00 mile, which is exactly what I would need to run for a 5:15, a 45 minute PR. I think it’s doable.
Today. I have calmness in my heart. A wedding. A funeral. A renewal of sorts.
Rest. It’s part of the routine.
I did something today I haven’t done for a few years. Runners know that you don’t wear race shirts of races you didn’t race. However, a few years ago, my sister was at the Boston Marathon, and got me a shirt…before I knew this rule. I wore it everywhere, because I thought it was a cool shirt. Once I realized I didn’t really EARN this shirt, I tucked it away in a drawer.
A year or so ago, I decided I wanted to BQ at age 60. To do this, you had to have a 4:30 marathon. I’m a 6 hour girl, and proud of it. Proud that I persevered at Golden Gate Park, Mile 18, the Potomac River & The Monsoon Marathon. Last year, I saw that BQ would be completely out of my reach.
Until today.
I ran those angsty miles yesterday, and today I had 6 on tap. With Hanson, you just run. Not if you will run today, but how long. I laced up and hit a nearby trail. I was floating. Like, I can’t believe how I felt. Madonna’s “Like A Prayer” on my iPod. Me, singing that LOUDLY…Just like a prayer, I’ll take you there.”
Perfect 11:30 target. Exactly what I wanted.
I’m not over-confident. I’m working my ass off, and it shows. It’s not false bravado…You can do it. Way to GO! You got this!…It’s real.
So, I drug out the shirt, and I put it on. Not afraid for anyone to say, “Hey, you have never run Boston!” I put it on, because I can see it. I can see a BQ by 60. I turned 53 last week…I’m training for my 5th marathon, and I’ve never been stronger. Let’s see what I can do in San Luis Obispo, in Tucson. I’m shooting for 5:30. That’s a 30 minute PR, and I think it’s doable…and I have 7 years in which to work at it.
Let’s just see. In the meantime, I’m grateful for the way the tide is shifting…
Today is the exact halfway point of my Marathon #5 training.
10 weeks in. 10 weeks to go. Halfway through the week.
Today, I ran 10 miles. Grueling. Punishing.
It started foggy. Then a lone dog staring at me.
I picked up a stick and ran with it for 3 miles.
LSD. Slow down. Slow down.
I really wanted to have the attitude that I am Just. Running.
Mile 4 had me at the Shell stop. Funny tummy.
I took out my Clif Shot and warmed it in my hand for a mile.
Getting close to the Green Bridge, my head just started to kick in again.
I give it no energy, because, well. It’s old news.
I’m getting tired around mile 6. Muddy rocks off the trail.
Dizzy over the river.
I count the miles that I have to make to make it back
and in a perfect 10 to my house.
I turn. I come back.
My head says, wow. You suck. Your job situation.
You worry about your kids.
Your sobriety looks a little shaky. You are. a. loser.
I continue on. I am slowing down so much that the LSD is looking attainable.
Not feeling it.
Up over the overpass. Have to add on a half mile. Bad math.
I run down Main Street. I make it to that last half mile and speed up.
Because. In this training, we don’t walk on hills, and we sprint at the end.
I get home.
My friend texts me and says: You’re amazing. A runner, mom,
teacher, being of service, etc. etc.
And I realize of course that the perception of others isn’t mine.
So. It is with aplomb that I announce this glass Half Full.
It’s either halfway from the beginning, or halfway to San Luis Obispo.
Already 216 miles since December.
It’s the best I have ever felt in any training.
I need not be afraid of the marathon. The real deal is in the training.
And, by the way. The glass: it’s always full.
This picture made me howl. It’s exactly the image I want to share what this week looked like.
Last weekend, I deviated from my SLO marathon plan and ran the Tinkerbell Half Marathon. Here’s what the plan called for: 
What I did for the week of 1-29-12 was jack my schedule. Which meant, of course, that everything was shifted around to compensate for my tired legs.
Sunday, was the Half Marathon, and Monday I drove from LA to my home, a 300 mile drive. Not only did I not have time to run, my legs just would not have allowed it. On Tuesday, I ran the requisite 6, and was fine, but by Tuesday night, after wearing compression socks all day, I knew I had to make a change.
There is something very powerful about writing your own training plan. For the first time in my marathon career, I had written my own plan, based on the Hanson Training Plan method. I switched long runs. I meticulously put tempo paces and 5K paces and set the plan on paper. In writing the plan, you own it. There is no one looking over your shoulder…no one to be accountable to but, well, YOU.
So I made a decision to rest on Wednesday. I ran it by my two gal pals, and they both agreed: Rest was exactly what I needed. I didn’t feel guilty, and I was not worried. By Thursday, I thought I would be okay to go. And, I did. I had 5 miles on the plan, and set out for my regular run. It took 4 miles, but FINALLY, my legs settled in. So much so, that I ran about a half mile more than I needed to.
Yesterday, I was to do Speedwork, but found a Massage College in Modesto that did full body massages for $20 …for an HOUR. Seriously? Instead of going to the track, I sped out of my house at a 10:15 pace and ran 2.8 around the block. Jumped in my car, and headed off to the Masseuse.
Ran, Massage, Spa. Worked late into the night.
Today, I sit here at the TNT Water Station that I’m running for our team. I am reflecting on the week. I made unplanned changes. And, I paid the price. It’s over, and I have a standing Friday appointment for a massage, until the marathon. I have my plan that I’m re-writing to reflect last week’s changes. I have 3 weeks to change the paces, then, according to Hanson, I’m locked in until the marathon.
Week 10 starts tomorrow. Halfway there, and I’m loving complete ownership of this. Happy weekend!
A few weeks ago, someone I know happened to ask, “Does anyone want my Tinkerbell bib?” As with everything else, first I looked at the calendar. Free. Then, my dog sitter. Free. I was the first to respond…Yes. Yes I want it.
Warning. This is super long.
It was going to be what got me through the rest of January, ending 30 days of relationship psychosis, where everything is questioned, and realities come to pass. Unreal. My family asked me, “Are you okay?” And of course, if you know my family, you say…
They knew. And they said get in the car.
On Thursday, I packed up my office laptop, drove to have a meeting and lunch in Fresno with a girlfriend, and barely got out of town before I had some now familiar anxiety when it comes to this particular addiction. I got my sponsor on the phone, and down the 99 I traveled, to that place that we all love. Our childhood home. It’s here where my Mom and Dad will provide me with that most precious quality of love. The kind that asks no questions. My sisters came. Everyone knew why I was there. And, it wasn’t to run a half marathon.
Of course, the weekend was made ever so special by my sweet niece, who brought over the love of my life…aka Jack. I am so in love with this baby. Seriously, when I would get sad, I would just look at this picture and swoon.
My gal pal Penny then invited me on the set of GLEE, and I was all pretending not to be star struck, but she pulled me over to meet some of the cast, and I was simply tongue tied. She bought me the most wonderful dinner at the Larchmont Grill, and we made plans for the Tinkerbell Half…HELLO Mac and Cheese with bacon. OMG.
All in all a seriously fun night. Especially when I ALMOST got to be in the episode. Watching Penny work was a major treat for me. I love her!
I spent the expo day with friends, and was really feeling the absence. Letting myself feel it, but couldn’t stand it, so I thought I’d run away to a meeting, when here in front of me was the exact, um, model of Harley I’d been racing from. I couldn’t even believe it. I walked in the meeting and was near tears…as usual when I shared, we all started laughing…cuz you know, you can’t outrun pain. You just gotta go through it after all.
Okay. So the escape was over. I faced my fears.
TINKERBELL RACE REPORT
So finally, here is the report.
I make it to Yas’ house, and lay out my stuff. No. I’m not Jill. 
4am requisite “WTF are we doing up at this hour?” pose.
I’m at the back of the corral. Like the very end. I suddenly have to hop over the fence and do a little last minute pee. There went my dollar store gloves. I was laughing with these girls, who pulled out of their bras baby wipes. I had remembered my coach telling me about the necessity of these, but do I listen? (Do we not remember the Potomac River?) So, she gives me one to put in my pack, which oddly would come in VERY handy at mile 8. So, we are standing there, and I recognize Jeff Galloway, having been at the Expo the day before with Gina. So of course, like the truly star struck person I am, I get the pictures snapped and he looks at my garbage bag and says, “I’m sure envious of that bag right now.” (He glazes over as I explain my love of the Hanson Training Plan LOL)
Actual Race Report right here:
Mile 1-3 I simply could not get in the groove. I was chilly and my stomach was a little fussy…but mostly I was weaving in and out of the TNTers who walk 6 abreast (really, TNT? We haven’t had this talk, like a million times before?) We are running in and around Disneyland. Back in the back, where workers have a smoke, and hey here’s our toilets, and there’s the cafeteria…and I was starting to get pissy about Tinkerbell…so much of the beginning reminded me of Rock N Roll marathons. Lotta money for a little reward because it’s such a big MACHINE.
We go in and out of the park, which was really cool…Main Street, Pirates of the Caribbean…places that reminded me of my babies (I actually nursed one of them at midnight standing in front of the castle). BUT. I was starting to get irritated for reals. We were WALKING through the Castle…by the Merry Go Round, and people were stopping to take pictures with characters. And I thought, well, you just have to do the best you can.
My plan had been to go at HMP for 7 miles, because I knew that 13.1 would be tough. I wasn’t trained, and as we know, I was only there to outrun some heartache. We were going around Anaheim, in and out of city streets, and by mile 4, I finally FINALLY got in a groove, where I knew I would be around 11:30…And I looked at my watch which had a low battery, so I never knew where I was.
At mile 8, my stomach SPOKE to me. Like, get off the course now. Lucky for me, I had wipes. Found a bush, got right back on the course. I have no shame about this. Thank God for the wipes, is all I have to say.
At mile 9, I lost Garmin power. I ran by the Hula girls, and started throwing the Shaka for my girl Row, for every camera that I happened to see. I was shocked that at Mile 9, I still hadn’t walked, even a little bit. There were Clif Shots at Mile 9, and for the first time, took a drink and nutrition. Perhaps I waited too long.
Mile 10-13.1, we went back through California Adventure, where I remember being with my boys when they were little. A million years and miles ago. Some bittersweet memories that collided with times gone by that were not so good.
Finally, I am just starting to enjoy Disneyland. Thinking, I would do the TINK again. The crowds were amazing. AND THEN. The medal. As big as my hand. And heavy. They hand us a dry bagel and a bottle of water. Full price for the bib, and I would NOT have been happy.
But, the MEDAL. I got that thing in my hand, and I forgot all pain. The smallish pop of my knee at Mile 7 that I tried to ignore…the lousy bagel, and the crowds, and the stupid walkers that rudely stood in my way. All in all, a 12:19 pace for a 2:45 and change race, for something I wasn’t trained for…not even a little bit.
The Medal. Seriously. I am in love. Tinkerbell, that lil angry cuss. She rocked my world.
