This
past Saturday, I ran 2.1 miles—it was my first attempt at running since my last
half marathon on September 6. I had mysteriously injured my lower back the week
before that race and, probably against my better judgment, I went ahead with
the race, even though my back was spasming and getting out of bed was a chore.
It
was at Disneyland, I had paid $200 to register—not to mention the cost of flying
out and staying in a hotel; dammit, I would
finish the race if it was the last thing I did!! So I awoke at 4 AM on Sunday,
September 6, took 800 mg of ibuprofen and walked (hobbled) in the pre-dawn
darkness from my hotel to Downtown Disney where my last half marathon of the
summer was to commence.
I remember when I first decided to run four half marathons over the summer. It
was last December and I was a part of a Facebook running group called CJ’sHoliday Challenge. I am not sure how I stumbled upon it, but I was glad I found
it. It was focused on the two months between Thanksgiving and January 25th,
and led by Coach Jenny Hadfield, a well known running coach in the “real world.”
The group was geared to folks of all ages and running abilities and was simply
there to encourage people not to lose track of their fitness and running goals
during the busy (and fattening) holiday seasons.
Before
I joined this group I was an uninspired runner; I tried to get in three runs a
week, but they weren’t very long (no more than three miles), nor were they
consistent. I did try to sign up for a 5K “race” each month, to keep me
motivated. I put “race” in quote marks because I surely wasn’t trying to win,
but I did get a racing bib,as well as a t-shirt (generally) and it was timed.
But being a part of this group opened my eyes to bigger possibilities.
Suddenly, I was seeing posts from people who ran at my pace (a 13 minute mile)
who were doing 10Ks and half marathons and even FULL marathons! If they could
do it, why couldn’t I? I was going on sabbatical from June 1-September 10. Why
not do a half marathon a month during that time, among other sabbatical plans?
I
shared my idea with the group and asked, “Am I crazy?” The answer was an
unreserved, “Yes!!” But, the other members added, in a good way. Why not go for
it? A few even pointed out that I could become of a member of the Half Fanatics
if I accomplished this feat.
So
I cemented my plan by putting it boldly in my Winter holiday letter and even
proclaiming it from the pulpit in a New Year’s sermon. By mid-February I had
picked out and paid for all four of my races. I was firmly committed.
When
friends would ask me why I chose to undertake such a daunting mission during my
sabbatical, I found it hard to explain. I truly felt called to do this. I wasn’t
doing it for fame or glory; it certainly wasn't to get more attention (as an introvert, I
spend my time finding ways to NOT be the center of attention!) All I could say
was that I was going to learn things I needed to learn during the training
leading up to the races, and in the races themselves. Honestly, I was feeling a
little tredipatious, myself, about the undertaking but as March came around, I
begin training in earnest.
Now,
on the other side of this endeavor, I can see clearly the lessons learned in
the training, the races, and the conversations in between.
Lesson
#1
It
doesn’t matter if anyone else believes in you; it only matters if you believe
in yourself.
I
first began to realize during my training that there were some people—caring
people involved in my life—that didn’t really expect me to make it to my first
half marathon, let alone getting through all four. People who met my stated training
goals with disbelief,
and my accomplishment of them with sheer amazement. I
remember saying to one friend, after I had completed my first double digit mile
training run, “You didn’t really expect me to do that, did you?” She admitted
she had been surprised that I had done so.
Now,
to be fair, I was a little surprised by my own tenacity. It would have been
much easier to keep putting off those long runs; they took up so much time! I’m
slow on a good day and my average pace, as the miles increased, got slower and
slower. Do you know how long it takes for me to run 10 miles? 2:15 hours!! That
takes a lot of planning in order to make sure I had time in the day to run it! It
was daunting to me but I kept faith in myself and steadily increased my miles
until, four weeks before my first race, I ran 12.4 miles on a long Saturday
morning. I came home from that run and, as I was gulping down an electrolyte
enhanced drink, suddenly burst into tears. The reality hit home then, I was doing it! I was actually training
consistently for a half marathon! All those years of being non-athletic,
all the friends who didn’t think I would actually follow through, all the times
I doubted myself, were washed away in those tears. At the moment, my own belief
in myself took a secure hold. It would carry me through a summer of injuries,
illness, and travel that interfered with my on-going training and it would ultimately
carry me through that last, rough half marathon in Disneyland.
Lesson
#2
The
race isn’t about the starting line or the finish line; it’s about those lonely miles
in between.
There’s
a certain sense of excitement when the gun goes off and the race commences. For
a while, I’m in the thick of a pack of runners, with many runners passing me and
me passing some as well as we all jockey for position and find our paces.
Knowing that I’m a slow runner, I always start somewhere near the back of the
pack. If there was a pacer holding a three hour sign, I’d position myself
behind that person, since my goal was to break three hours.
And
then the race would begin! And we would run through a crowd of cheering friends
and family members onto the course! Soon—within a mile or two—we would all be
in our respective places that we would hold for virtually the rest of the race.
I would find myself playing “leap-frog” with one or two of the other runners at
my pace. I might steadily overtake them (think of that annoying moment on the
freeway when an 18 wheeler pulls slowly into the left lane to pass another 18
wheeler, going about .5 miles faster an hour than the truck being passed; it
takes a long time for that pass to actually get completed) and then when my
watch beeps to tell me to take my one minute walk break, they would slowly
overtake me.
It’s
not crowded where I am, in the middle miles. Far ahead of me are the faster
runners; if it’s an “out and back” course the fastest racers will be passing me
at about the half way mark. Behind me are runners even slower than me, including
those who walk the races. This leaves me in a solitary place with only my leap
frog buddies to keep me company.
And
it is in those miles, where I’m alone, where there is no one to cheer me on,
where the only sound is that of my somewhat labored breathing, that the true
race is run. Ultimately I will reach that glorious 13 mile marker and put what
little I have left of any reserves into play and run across the finish line
where still a crowd waits to cheer me in! And then I will dazedly lower my head
to accept my finisher’s medal and head for the cups of water waiting, but I
know the only reason I got there is because I slogged along in those lonely
middle miles, persistently putting one foot in front of the other, even when
there was no one to witness my efforts.
Lesson
3
Sometimes
you can’t quite reach your goal. You can choose to focus on how much you missed
it by or how close you came.
My
first half marathon was June 6 in Moab, UT. It was the Thelma and Louise half—so
named because the course ran along the Colorado River in the location where the
final scene was shot in that iconic movie. I was nervous b
ecause shortly after
I had done my 12.4 training run, I had seriously injured my right knee. I had taken it easy for a few weeks but when
I ran six miles the week before the race, the pain was so great that I had to
call a friend to pick up, a couple of miles from home.
"Flat Nori" ready for Thelma and Louise |
I
had gone to a physical therapist twice in the week before that first race, and
my knee was taped up using the kinesio tape, which is all the rage now, to help
prevent injuries. Right before the race I downed 400 mg of ibuprofen; I was as
prepared as I could be. The course was beautiful and the taping and the drugs
evidently helped because I didn’t really feel any pain until about mile 9. Then
it came on with a vengeance. I stayed with my pace of run 3 minutes, walk one
minute, the entire time and was pretty impressed with my final time of 3:05:41.
Unfortunately,
my knee was incredibly injured and I spent the next four weeks before my second
race focusing on doing physical therapy for strength and recuperation and did
very little actual running prior to the Fourth of July race in the Colorado
Springs. Subsequently, my time was worse—I finish
ed at 3:11:46. I was
discouraged but it couldn’t be helped. At mile 11, my legs simply quit working
on me. At that point, I switched the tempo to running 1 minute and walking 3.
That was the most miserable race ever!
July 4th "Flat Nori" |
Then
came my third half—the Georgetown to Idaho Springs race. Billed as a fast race
because it ultimately is a downhill race, there were several steep uphill
portions, too. On a positive note, although I was much slower in my second race
than my first, my knee didn’t hurt at all! The on-going PT was really working!
On a negative note, I had gotten a
miserable, intractable cold that had kept me in bed for the better part of two
weeks in between race two and three. Once again, my training runs suffered. One
well-meaning friend (and a “real” runner) tried to convince me to forgo this
race and just focus on getting faster for the grand finale in September. I
thanked her for the advice but told her I was planning on running that third
race, even if I had to crawl over the finish line.
Proudly displaying medal for Georgetown |
Instead,
I had the best run of the summer! I felt like I was flying down the mountain. I
abandoned the run/walk ration of 3:1 and just ran until I felt the need to
walk. Once again, however, mile 11 proved to be my nemesis. This time, I
started to experience cramps in my left calf that caused the toes on my left foot
to spasm. When that would happen, I would slow to a walk until it stopped, then
start running again.
I
crossed the finish line triumphantly with a final time of 3:00:47. Yes, that
means I was just 48 seconds shy of my goal of a sub-3 hour half! At first I was
disappointed. I kept replaying those final 2.1 miles, knowing if my calf hadn’t
started to cramp, I would have taken less walk breaks. Then I realized that
3:00:47 is a GREAT time for me! And, if I didn’t make my goal, at least I
finished with my knee intact and with the best effort I could give. I posted
the results on the CJ Challengers page and was met with enthusiastic
congratulations. More importantly, I had a good race; a race that was actually
fun to run!'
Lesson
#4
Run
fast, but don’t miss the magic.
This
brings me back to where I started this post: a pre-dawn start in Downtown
Disney with an
injured back. I had hoped, following my triumphant third race, that the Disneyland Half marathon would be my crowning glory: a half marathon at sea level, with much better pre-race training runs. Instead, I entered this last race more nervous than I had been before any of the other three.
injured back. I had hoped, following my triumphant third race, that the Disneyland Half marathon would be my crowning glory: a half marathon at sea level, with much better pre-race training runs. Instead, I entered this last race more nervous than I had been before any of the other three.
There
were over 15,000 runners and we were set loose in corrals of hundreds of people
eight minutes apart. The race began at 530 AM but it was just past 6 when my
corral was finally released. At first, I tried my best to get ahead of the
crowd, even though veterans of the race had told me the night before that this
was not a race to try for a PR due to so many runners on the course. Still, I
dodged around slower people, jumped up onto the sidewalk when it got too
congested and was generally not having a very good time, although I was very
determined. I did my best running, initially, not even taking any walk breaks
until after I had run steadily for more than 30 minutes; still I was getting
nowhere fast.
That’s when I noticed what many of the other runners were doing. The first few miles of the race took us through the streets of Disney California Adventure and then onto the streets of the Magic Kingdom itself. Even at that early hour, hundreds of workers lined the course to cheer us on and many characters were also there—Mickey, Minnie, and their gang; Beauty and The Beast, and their gang; Buzz Lightyear! Woody! All of the big names were out to cheer us on! And runners were pausing from their race to line up 20 deep in order to have their picture taken with these luminaries.
That’s when I noticed what many of the other runners were doing. The first few miles of the race took us through the streets of Disney California Adventure and then onto the streets of the Magic Kingdom itself. Even at that early hour, hundreds of workers lined the course to cheer us on and many characters were also there—Mickey, Minnie, and their gang; Beauty and The Beast, and their gang; Buzz Lightyear! Woody! All of the big names were out to cheer us on! And runners were pausing from their race to line up 20 deep in order to have their picture taken with these luminaries.
In this first video, you can see me as I run out of the castle at about the :10 mark, on the far right of the crowd. It's clear by my gait that there is something wrong with me!That’s when I got it. I realized how for the past three races, essentially all summer, I had been focused on the stress, the injuries, the doubts. I had worried about, rather than rejoiced in, the races. I had spent a lot of time trying to justify to some people why I was running this series, rather than just soaking in the congratulations of others.
For
me, doing these four half marathons had never been about getting progressively
faster; it’s always been about just doing them, not letting any excuse stop me.
That’s why I registered early and why I broadcast my intent. After all, it would
have been easy for me to opt out of any or all of these races at the last
minute; that I didn’t do that was the victory.
In this second video, you can see me at about the :20 mark, on the side closest to the announcer. I have given up trying to run and am just soaking in the magic.
It was at that moment of realization in that final race, that I stopped jockeying for a better position and just took in the magic that is Disney. I snapped a couple of photos of my own as I “raced” along. I took in the cheering Disney workers and characters and the beauty of running through the streets of the Happiest Place on Earth. As we left the park and headed down the streets of Anaheim, I applauded the bands and dance teams and car clubs that lined the streets to cheer us on. When we made it to Angel Stadium and headed down onto the field, it felt as if we were taking a victory lap; hundreds of people in the stands were cheering us on as the official game announcer welcomed us in. Unfortunately, that was at the 15K mark; we still had 3.7 miles to go.
Towards
the end there were several places where cheerleaders were doing chants for us,
and I felt as if they were directed specifically to me. “We are proud of you!
We are proud of you!” and “We are the champions, my friend!”
It occurred to me that I really had done it: I had completed four half marathons in four months. I had trained consistently until injuries and illnesses sidelined me, but even then, I never gave up. The victory was mine. I wasn't the fastest in my age group, I never broke the three hour time, and I was beset by complications that slowed me down, but never held me back. And at the end of that final race, as I hobbled back to my hotel room, I could be proud. Proud that I had, ultimately, crossed the finish line I had set before me, all those months ago.
This commercial captures exactly how I felt at the end!
EPILOGUE
On
Monday, September 7, I was back at home. Although my back was worse than
before, I had gotten out of bed early to cheer on my friend, Cate, who was
running the American Discovery Trail half marathon here in Colorado Springs.
This race was an out and back, beginning in America the Beautiful park and
going north for 6.55 before the turn around back to the where it began. Cate is
a seasoned runner and had been training hard all summer for this race. She suggested
that, if I wanted to cheer her on (and I did; she had been my faithful
cheerleader at all but my final race the day before) to be waiting at the 4
mile mark (which was also about mile 9 on the way back.) So I made my way to
that mile marker, at Goose Gossage park.
Once
the first and fastest runners came
through, I tried to guess about when she’d be by, based on the pace estimates
she’d given me. Sooner than I expected she came zipping along, going fast and
looking great. After she left, I cheered on the other runners, while I waited
for her to return. I looked at my watch, at one point and figured out that the
next batch of runners would be about where I would be, if I had been running that
race, and sure enough here they came. Some were doing the sort of disciplined
run/walk ratio that I did, others were running and then walking intermittently.
All of them looked exhausted but determined. I cheered especially loud for
them, knowing what it felt to be at mile four, with the bulk of the race ahead.
Soon after “my” group passed along, Cate came winging back. I stayed long
enough to encourage her then got in my car and sped to the finish line so that
I could greet her there.
It
was hard to walk, my back was spasming and I was giving out little Tourette shrieks
of pain every time it did. But as I waited for Cate, I reflected on my own
journey that summer, the lessons I learned, the experiences I had. If you had
told me just four years earlier when I first laced up a pair of running shoes
and started a couch to 5K program, that I’d be running four half marathons in a
single summer, I would have laughed out loud. Yet, here I was. I thought of
those in my pace group still struggling on the course that morning and mentally cheered
them on some more.
Soon Cate crossed the finish line. At age 56,
she had not only placed first in her age group, she had set a new PR for
herself, with a time of 1:52:14- a 8:34 mile. She writes about that experience eloquently in her own blog, Meditatio Ephemera So that’s another lesson I
learned vicariously: you’re never too old to set a new PR.
Over
this past month, as I’ve gone multiple times to the chiropractor, and have
focused on recuperating, I have to say, I was so glad to not have a race in
October. I doubt I’ll ever do so many distance races in such a short time
again! But I might do the Georgetown to Idaho Springs race next year; there’s still
those 48 seconds I need to lose. And I would definitely do another Disney half-- only next time I will make sure to focus on the magic from the start.
A slide show representation of my summer running!
No comments:
Post a Comment