Making History at the Livestrong Austin Half Marathon
I made history on Sunday, February 17, 2013.
Well, maybe not earth-shattering, life-altering, textbook-worthy history, but my history. I PRed at the Livestrong Austin Half Marathon.
My goal: Under 2 hours. My official chip time: 1:56:21.
It was an awesome race, but a much harder course than I remember. Who put all those hills in the last 3 miles? Can we fire them?
I was–and remain–ecstatic, mentally if not physically. For 2+ days my body felt like it had been beaten with a stick. My legs hurt, from the bruised tip of my left middle toe all the way up to my lower back. I don’t recall ever feeling like this after a race.
Regardless, I wouldn’t trade Sunday for anything, not even a barrel of Cadbury eggs. Which I LOVE, and which my boyfriend gave me as a post-race gift. (Not a barrel full. Just one. Perfect.)
Every race is a learning experience. Here is what I learned from the Austin half:
1. I need more hill training.
2. A perfectly normal toe going into a half can look like a Concord grape coming out.
3. Running buddies save the world (or at least your run).
I will write more about running buddies in a future post, but let me just say here that Katie from Houston was a God-send. We ran the first half together to keep each other on pace. We didn’t talk much after mile 3, and we lost each other somewhere around mile 6, but sharing the beginning of a race with someone else makes or breaks it, in attitude and time.
4. Gatorade is not my friend.
I never drink Gatorade and stopped drinking any sports drink a few years ago. I prefer water, plain and simple. Most sports drinks contain too much sugar for me, particularly Gatorade, which has always made me nauseous.
Additionally, I learned recently that BVO, a synthetic chemical originally manufactured as a flame retardant, has been an ingredient in many sports drinks and sodas, including Gatorade, for years. All the more reason for me to avoid it.
However, somewhere around mile 5 I cruise into a water stop, grab what I think is a full cup of water, and down it. To my dismay, it’s Gatorade. Almost instantly, I am nauseous. And, since the BVO news broke, I am more than just a little upset.
For the next 8 miles I am having two simultaneous conversations with myself. One is a rational discussion laying out all the reasons why I cannot take the time to stop and vomit until after I cross the finish line. My stomach churns for the remainder of the race as small streams of lemon-lime shoot up the back of my throat.
I never do vomit, even though my stomach will not feel normal until sometime in the late afternoon.
The second conversation has to do with BVO. Last week I mentioned the importance of mental distractions in seeing me through long runs. Usually, the distraction is music–not a real iPod, but the iPod on continuous loop in my head. On a particularly good long run recently, Sugar Ray’s “I Just Want to Fly” helped me to. On a particularly hard long run, Train’s “Calling All Angels” got stuck in the loop.
Sometimes movie scenes replay in my head, a little bit reworked. Like during my 11 mile This Is Spinal Tap long run. I envisioned my interview with Rob Reiner, who ran along beside me as we discussed the fact that every other runner might stop at 10, but not me.
ROB: Why don’t you just make ten faster and make ten be the top number and make that a little faster?
ME: [pausing and looking down at my legs] These go to 11.
The BVO distraction, unfortunately, was not as fun. At least, I kept telling myself, if another meteor hits Earth and Austin explodes into a fireball, I’ll be safe. Me and half the runners. Austin may burn, but we’re flame retardant.
At least I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.
And I got my PR.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 9 so far )The End in Sight
In a little more than 48 hours I will have PRed the Austin Half Marathon.
It will be cold Sunday morning, somewhere in the mid to upper 30s. When my alarm goes off I will already be awake, half dreading getting out from under the warm covers so blasted early.
I’ll sit on the living room floor like I always do, cup (or 2) of coffee in hand, and stretch, not necessarily because I need to stretch promptly upon awakening, but because it’s a nice excuse to sprawl out on the floor and half-doze instead of crawling back into bed.
My dogs will look outside at the still dark sky, and then at me like I am crazy, burrow into a cozy nest in the throw on the couch, and go back to sleep. Like they always do.
But this Sunday won’t be like any other running day. No stalling on this cold morning with endless coffee or straightening up. This day is going to rock.
I have visualized race morning for weeks–waking up and getting ready for the race, driving to Austin, walking to the start line, warming up. I know what I will eat and when, what my clothing options are for any kind of weather (this is Texas, after all–the thermometer can fluctuate 40+ degrees within hours). I have reminded myself to press my Garmin’s ON button as soon as I cross the Start line.
I have visualized what my negative split will feel like, particularly the second half, fast and hard to the Finish line.
Most important, I have repeated in my mind’s eye crossing that line. Finishing strong. My best run ever.
Strangely, perhaps, visualization comes so easily for me that it often resembles daydreaming. Especially on long runs. Maybe my mind needs a distraction in order to let my body alone to do what it will. Or maybe I am simply determined to get the result I want. Regardless, I have seen the end of this race, over and again, and I know it won’t be good. It will be fabulous.
I can’t wait.
Come to think of it, I haven’t. I’ve seen it.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 2 so far )The Blank Page
The page is almost full. Next Sunday–in 9 days–I will be in Austin well before the sun comes up, running a half marathon, the first I have been able to run since February 2010. At the end of the day, my last box will be checked.
When I posted my training plan on the side of my refrigerator just before Thanksgiving, the whiteness of the blank boxes and the progression of long-run miles daunted me. For a couple of weeks, I doubted I could actually do it. Run a half marathon, geez. What was I thinking? I hadn’t run that far in so long I found it hard to have faith in my ability to do it again.
Not only was the page too white, but there were lots of things that might get in the way of fulfilling my plan. Christmas, New Years, vacation, business trip, work. I had to remind myself that the holidays in particular were why I chose to run this particular half marathon at this particular time, why I chose to start training the week after Thanksgiving. I chose.
I knew from past experience how closely aligned race training is with project planning. Life planning. You set a goal and a date, break it down into its parts, plant the tasks on a calendar, and check off each task as it’s complete, recording your rate of success. Focusing on the small chunks, one week at a time at most, one day at a time for certain, is what determines success. We only live one day at a time. It’s our responsibility to focus on the moment, perform to the best of our ability, because the moment is all we are guaranteed.
But for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been looking at my plan with a different eye. When I glance at it from across the kitchen, I no longer see an intimidating white page. My plan has almost reached fruition. The boxes contain times and distances where I followed the plan, or diagonal lines where I didn’t. I am no longer afraid of this page. Rather, I am proud. I have come so far, and there is visual proof to remind me.
When I look at my plan, penciled, erased, circled, used, I get excited. Not only am I so close to reaching my goal, which is thrilling in itself, but I have had the joy (and pain) of reaching a goal every day. I see the results on paper, certainly, but also in the mirror. I am not the same person who started this plan on November 26. And I will be a different person again when I cross that finish line on February 17.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 3 so far )Two Weeks to PR
I did it. I finished my 10 mile run last Sunday 4:30 faster than my 10 mile run the week before. Not only am I completely thrilled with the fact that I beat myself, but I am now confident that I will PR at the Austin half in two weeks.
The last time I ran the Austin half, in 2010, I PRed. My goal was to finish in under 2 hours. I finished in 2:01:50-something. I know. I’ve been trying to block out the disappointment ever since. At least I’ve succeeded in kind of forgetting the tenth of a second part.
This time, I’m sure I can do it. Running has never felt so good, and I’ve never trained better. This time, there are two major differences.
My attitude.
I didn’t take up running until my early 30s, and it has probably saved my life on more than one occasion. Training for a race–having a goal, a plan, a block of time every day to disappear into and call my own–has sustained me through marital problems and divorce, death, illness, and countless lows that in a previous life would probably have resulted in self-destructive activities.
Running became such an integral part of my identity that for a long time I approached it with a certain rigidity. If I had a plan I’d follow it, come hell or high water. But in the past couple of years, I have learned to let go of the plan. This time around, my plan is tacked on my refrigerator, just as with any past race, but rather than stress about sticking exactly to it, I do what I can when I can. Give it my best, and leave the rest up to God. I’m finding that in running, just like in life, I get a much better outcome when I let go.
My strength.
It’s not that strength training never appealed to me, it’s that it never occurred to me. I was like most women I see at the gym even now: My idea of a workout was strictly cardio. Thanks to my sister, I have developed a love of strength training along with the understanding that if I want to run long and hard and fast, I need the musculature to support me. A strong core holds the body upright and prevents hip, back, and knee injuries. A strong upper body decreases tension on the spine when I’m slogging my shoulders and head along on those long runs. And strong legs? A no-brainer. I want quads that look like braided bread not because I find them sexy, but because I need to make it up some pretty steep hills. The stronger I get, the faster I get, and the more I enjoy running.
I’m not worried that I’ve jinxed myself by stating publicly that I believe I will PR in Austin. Even if I don’t (but I will), I know I will be proud of my run and the fact that I’m there, giving it the best I’ve got. Isn’t that what life’s all about?
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 2 so far )The New Normal
Last Sunday I ran ten miles. Ten. Miles.
To some of my friends ten miles is like a walk to the mailbox. To others it might as well be an ultramarathon. To me it’s incredible.
When I started training for a half marathon eight weeks ago my long run was five miles. Frankly, I was terrified. My friend offered to do my first long run with me, bless her heart, as long as–in her words–it was under fifteen miles. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or vomit. The thought of five was scary enough. Anything approaching double digits seemed impossible.
Now, I run five miles in the middle of the week. And it’s almost like a walk to the mailbox.
This Sunday I get to run ten miles. Again. Ten. Miles.
I’m sure I can beat last Sunday’s time because I plan to eat better this Saturday than I did last. My mother always told me that Cheetos are not a dinner food. I’m not sure she actually qualified it with “dinner,” come to think of it. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s right. Cheetos don’t seem to sustain endurance or supply energy, even if they do stain your fingers a fine shade of day-glow orange that might actually help make runners more visible to cars. Nevertheless, Cheetos won’t be on my menu this weekend.
One of the beautiful things about running: I’m my own biggest competitor. I just want to do better than I did the week before so that what’s normal is always new.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 11 so far )Oh, to Run and Change the World
What would you say to someone who told you that running could change the world? Would you think they were odd, crazy, dreaming? Not my world, you might think. Not the real world, where businesses and people work hard to make a living, get ahead. Running, you might say, is a hobby for most, a pastime, an amateur sport. It might be fun, might get or keep you healthy, but surely it couldn’t change the world.
I had the privilege this week of attending the 10th annual Girls on the Run International Summit, a conference, for lack of a better word, though it was like no conference I’ve attended. It may have had all the trappings of your average conference—speakers, general and breakout sessions, meals and parties—but this conference was distinctly different. What made it so was not the agenda, it’s the organization—the men and women who are Girls on the Run.
Every organization composes a Vision, a Mission, a set of Core Values it displays for all its stakeholders to see. Most include words like customer-oriented, integrity, honesty, excellence.
What about words like positivity, gratitude, empowerment, responsibility. Empathy, joy, love. And more telling than words, what about actions? Could a business be built on a foundation that includes empathy, joy, and love?
When Girls on the Run started, it was led by one woman who brought together one team of thirteen young girls to instill in them confidence, joy, self-respect, to show them their own strength and where it could lead them. Sixteen years later, Girls on the Run is led by 55,000+ women and men across the nation in 208 councils, revealing to tens of thousands of girls their full potential.
Girls in the program learn to be authentic, strong, honest. To respect themselves and others, to make healthy life choices, to be empathetic. These girls will grow up to be leaders in business, education, government. They are learning to lead with love.
The tool that does this? Running.
Sound corny? Far from it. It’s quite real, and part of a movement to bring empathy, responsibility to bear on our actions, in business, education, government.
Who said that running couldn’t change the world? It already has.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 2 so far )The Busk, or why I run before dawn
There are a dozen reasons to run before dawn. There’s no traffic. Car exhaust and other pollution haven’t elevated to choking level. Running sets your metabolism, you get the day’s run out of the way, it’s mental preparation for the day. These reasons all ring true for me, but there’s something more. With each sunrise I am reminded that every day is a busk.
In spring when the corn began to ripen, some American Indian tribes held a busk, a cleansing ceremony whose purpose was, in large part, renewal. Tribe members cleaned out their homes and threw all broken or unwanted items into a communal heap, which they burned. A new fire was kindled, and from it all the fires in town were kindled. During the ceremony, all offenses except murder were forgiven, and a new year began.
The Unity Church practices a ritual with a similar purpose: The Burning Bowl. In this New Year’s ceremony, individuals make two lists, one of the things they need to get rid of, and the other of their intentions for the year. The first list is burned; the second sealed, to be read later.
Both rituals serve the same purpose as New Year’s resolutions do for many of us. A new year promises a clean slate, the potential to do things right, set new goals. It’s a chance to start life anew. The opportunity to remake ourselves into something better, stronger. (Faster.)
Some seem to think that if they don’t set New Year’s resolutions, they’ve missed their chance for change. But we don’t have to wait for New Year’s Eve for that clean slate. We get a new beginning every day.
Each day that I get to run before dawn, I am reminded of this. A sunrise is like an opening hand, pink fingers flaming across the sky, releasing a new day. The most brilliant dawns remind me of a fire eating through the detritus of the previous day, cleansing it of the good and bad, clearing the way for new growth.
One reason running fills me with gratitude–I get to witness this. A new beginning, every day. Another chance to live right, do right. Another day I am blessed with.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )On the Cusp of the No Plan Plan
At this time last year, I had a plan. Not just any old plan, but a Master Plan. I wrote out my vision of where I wanted to be in a year and then laid out corresponding goals, each month for a quarter, then six months, a year. I posted both documents, Visions and Goals, on my bathroom mirror so I would be reminded daily of what I needed to do, where to go.
By April I found that I had met maybe 1/3 of my goals. My Master Plan wasn’t so masterful after all, it seemed. The documents came off the mirror as I thought of Woody Allen’s line, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Nevertheless, my visions and goals were embedded in my brain.
Now, at the end of the year, I find that I have met many of these goals, even if I didn’t meet them in (my) time. The goals I missed have more to do with focus than desire. A fortune fished out of a cookie sometime this year waves from my fridge to remind me: The most powerful element in the world is a focused mind.
But it’s almost December 31 again and I have no Master Plan, no vision, no list of goals to post on my bathroom mirror.
This realization set in yesterday when for the first time in a month I stood completely alone in my house, in silence. Last December I had the luxury of time for reflection and planning. This December, by contrast, has been a whirlwind of incidents and events, from beach time and the joy of season’s end to family illness, unexpected home repairs, the stress of season’s end, and the preparation required to begin a new season.
Oh yeah, and then there was Christmas.
For some reason, I’m not so worried about not having a plan. December 31 isn’t the official Master Plan Deadline and, as far as I know, I won’t melt if midnight strikes and I’m on the No Plan Plan. There will be enough time.
Among the many lessons I learned this year, two apparently contradictory principles stand out:
- I seem to be happiest when I forget about myself.
- We receive in life what we think we deserve.
I’m not exactly sure how my Master Plan will take shape, but I know I need to begin here.
Fortunately, as I begin to think about 2013’s visions and goals, I am not completely planless. My training plan is still tacked up on my fridge, guiding me toward that half marathon in February.
At least there is this: I plan to run.
Have a blessed New Year.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )The Best Effort
Last Saturday, Girls on the Run of Bexar County held our end-of-the-season 5K. 104 girls, their running buddies, and friends and families showed up to complete this event, the goal the girls had been working toward for 10 weeks.
Even though we’re called Girls on the Run, we’re not exactly a running program. That is, our goal is not to teach girls how to run, although that certainly is part of what we do. Rather, our goal is to teach girls how to make healthy life choices, to set and reach goals, to respect themselves and others, to be confident. Running is the tool we use to do this, an incredible tool that yields incredible results.
For this race, rather than handing out 72 or so medals to the top three places, male and female, all age groups, we decided to give out only 6: Top 3 male and top 3 female. We weren’t concerned about how the girls placed. We’ve impressed upon them throughout the season that the point of the 5K was finishing, not winning. The fact that they showed up to the 5K meant that for 10 weeks they’d been giving it their all and were already winners. All that was left for them to do on race day was to cross the finish line. Time didn’t matter. Their best effort did.
The crowd gathered at the finish line to cheer the girls on as they approached, faces glistening, smiles wide. The first several finshers were men, the overall winner a retired colonel and cancer survivor. The next two were first-time 5K runners who looked just as overjoyed as the girls did when they crossed the line.
After a few minutes, we saw the first group of girls coming up over the final hill.
What we saw from our vantage point was this. Four girls ran hard, while their running buddies hung back, encouraging them to run. The four girls sprinted through the line, first and second place nose to nose, third and fourth a few steps behind, also nose to nose. First and second place were winded and flushed and smiling hard. Later, they beamed when I placed the medals around their necks.
What I discovered later, from a different vantage point, was this. The first two girls were in the program, completing the fall season. The third was an alumnus, who’d been in the program twice and was running with a friend. They all ran hard throughout the race, giving it their best, but as they neared the end, the alumnus and her friend found themselves gaining on the top two runners.
They could have passed them. Part of them really wanted to. But as they came up that final hill, they realized how important it might be to the two girls in front of them to cross the line first. They looked at each other, nodded, and slowed down their pace, just a hair.
They crossed third and fourth, winded and flushed and smiling hard. Time didn’t matter. Their best effort did. We couldn’t be more proud.
Or so we thought, until we saw the face of the 104th girl, who danced across the finish line, smiling all the way.
Confidence. Joy. The most beautiful medals to own. 104 of them last week. How can you beat that?
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 1 so far )Cross Training, Island Style
Usually, I post on Fridays. I missed last week, but I have a good reason. No, my dog didn’t eat my post. Better: I was in the Bahamas.
It’s ok to hate me for a minute or two. I can take it.
I took my running shoes with me, intending to stick to my training plan. In fact, I wore them on the plane. Then threw them in the back of the hotel room closet. And didn’t take them out again until I left.
I did, however, manage to get in some training.
I walked a lot of beach. 
Snorkeled with my sister. 
Saw lots of cool sea life. 
But mostly, spent quality time with my mom and sister.
This morning it’s 30 degrees, and I’m wishing I was waking up to steel drums playing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” instead of the local news telling me to put on my ear muffs.
Nevertheless, it’s back to the training plan, Texas style. Guess I better find my running shoes.
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