I was held up in yet another emergency room on Sunday ( not me, but another family member with kidney stones) and luckily I had some sense about me before rushing out the door enough to grab some magazines to read. I think it was the latest Runners World that I had in my bag, I read all about Pre. Steve Prefontaine, the late great runner. Pre passed away in a tragic auto accident shortly after I was born, so we barely even share the same lifetime. He was a great athlete, he loved the sport and he's an athlete I seemingly have absoluteley nothing in common with.
Yet I'm intrigued. I want to know more Pre. I do not have a full understanding why, or how this one runner is on my mind. Why not Paula Radcliffe? Why not Shalene Fitzgerald? I share a gender and a generation with them, but for some reason I'm not drawn to them as much as I am Pre right now. It's a bit baffling. I'm still 'new' enough to this sport that I cannot even name half a dozen great runners.
But my mind keeps coming on to Pre. Why?
Is it because he's had so much written about him? Had a movie made about him? ( actually make that two movies about him) I read in the article that every year there is a Prefontaine Classic, and a Prefontaine Memorial Run. I'm starting to believe this is one instance that because it's there, because there are books and movies and runs named after him, is why I'm intrigued about what makes him so special.
But that being said, there's an element of life there too. Steve Prefontaine died a tragic death way too soon. He was an incredible athlete like so many others, and while he perhaps did not run the fastest, win the most races, or have the most gold, carrying him on means something special. His mother and sister help carry on his name, his legend. They will never forget. Perhaps their wish, is that as much as they loved him as a son and a brother, they want no one else to forget as well. Running was his passion as is so many others'. Matching others passion for the sport with their own passion of their lost one, seems a perfect fit.
But there's more to it, I'm sure. This Pre popularity and undying dedication to him is not started or carried on by his family solely. People show up and run the Prefontaine Classic and Memorial Run. His mother and sister did not write the books, nor direct/produce the movies.
So where does it all come from? How many other amazing great athletes were taken too soon before finishing their sport? Why Pre?
I'm intrigued enough to start reading the books or start watching the movies at some point. What is so special about this one runner? Other than being a helluva guy and a great athlete, there are millions of those out there. While I'm hoping for some answers to my own curiosity, I'm also hoping for some motivation, inspiration something I'm always needing. So....lets see what Pre can give me.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
The Happiest Limit
I decided one of the greatest things about doing the Half Marathon is that I learned my current limit.
For this race, despite the weird mental stuff I had going on, it was about mile ten that I realized ' OK, I'm about done' and I really was. The last three miles were really a push and a half.
Today is day three post race and I'm pretty sure my mental state is coming back to normal, whatever the hell that is. Days leading up to the race were horrible. And I do mean horrible. The stress of the upcoming daunting task I had gotten myself into was more stress than my wedding, law school or going to confession. I learned my limits though, and I believe this is it! I know what I can handle and right now, this is the top of my threshold of mental, emotional and physical limitations. So very cool.
Why is that cool? Because so few people, I've learned, actually push themselves to the brink of their limits. They have absolutely no idea what they are capable of. I am right along with them, except for this one particular pinpoint in my world. No clue as to how far we can all be pushed before we break. None. And right at this very moment, yep, I know how far I can be pushed before I absolutely crumble. And crumble I almost did. But I didn't.
I cant decide if I would do another half again. Quite likely yes, but I'm not counting on that. I believe my limit for the moment is ten miles. It was at the ten mile mark I knew I was done. Would I want the hard task of another half at some point? Possibly. I'm not really looking for one right now. I think my ten miles is a good thing to keep it at right now.
So the first question everyone is asking " Are you doing a full marathon next?"
While it's a perfectly understandable and expected question, I'd so like to respond something like "yes, as soon as I birth 12 babies fathered by the pope" Just to be a smartass. No, not going to happen. For now anyway. I'll never say never though. God knows when I turn 50, I might have something else to prove I might be old and cranky as a bat, but damnit, I can RUN!
Yeah that's it.
But the exciting part is knowing exactly what my limit is right now. I don't ever think that I've felt that before, nor have I actually ever been brave/daring/stupid enough to push it. I no longer feel that need to strive for more right now. I no longer feel the need to push it. How in the world someone like me ever got that 'need to push' is beyond me. As I've said in the past, I do secretly fear I'm an internally lazy person.
I've already registered for a 10 miler coming up in a little over a month and I can't wait.
For this race, despite the weird mental stuff I had going on, it was about mile ten that I realized ' OK, I'm about done' and I really was. The last three miles were really a push and a half.
Today is day three post race and I'm pretty sure my mental state is coming back to normal, whatever the hell that is. Days leading up to the race were horrible. And I do mean horrible. The stress of the upcoming daunting task I had gotten myself into was more stress than my wedding, law school or going to confession. I learned my limits though, and I believe this is it! I know what I can handle and right now, this is the top of my threshold of mental, emotional and physical limitations. So very cool.
Why is that cool? Because so few people, I've learned, actually push themselves to the brink of their limits. They have absolutely no idea what they are capable of. I am right along with them, except for this one particular pinpoint in my world. No clue as to how far we can all be pushed before we break. None. And right at this very moment, yep, I know how far I can be pushed before I absolutely crumble. And crumble I almost did. But I didn't.
I cant decide if I would do another half again. Quite likely yes, but I'm not counting on that. I believe my limit for the moment is ten miles. It was at the ten mile mark I knew I was done. Would I want the hard task of another half at some point? Possibly. I'm not really looking for one right now. I think my ten miles is a good thing to keep it at right now.
So the first question everyone is asking " Are you doing a full marathon next?"
While it's a perfectly understandable and expected question, I'd so like to respond something like "yes, as soon as I birth 12 babies fathered by the pope" Just to be a smartass. No, not going to happen. For now anyway. I'll never say never though. God knows when I turn 50, I might have something else to prove I might be old and cranky as a bat, but damnit, I can RUN!
Yeah that's it.
But the exciting part is knowing exactly what my limit is right now. I don't ever think that I've felt that before, nor have I actually ever been brave/daring/stupid enough to push it. I no longer feel that need to strive for more right now. I no longer feel the need to push it. How in the world someone like me ever got that 'need to push' is beyond me. As I've said in the past, I do secretly fear I'm an internally lazy person.
I've already registered for a 10 miler coming up in a little over a month and I can't wait.
The After Party
Immediately following the Half Marathon, it was time to eat and eat huge. I guesstimated that I had burned about 2500-2600 calories during the course of the race ( yet my HRM crapped about about half way through) so I was ready to EAT.
We chose pizza, because well, it sounded good. And when I say 'we' I mean me. Others who did not do 13.1 didn't get to choose. nu uh.
So we hit a pizza buffet, I ate until I was comfortably full and that was that. My dear sweet man decided this was the perfect time to go buy out tile samples.
Are you freaking kidding me?
Nope, he wasn't at all. So in we went to Lowe's, me, still in my sweat caked clothes, my salty legs, horrible hat hair, race bib, and medal wearing to look at tile. I lasted about fifteen minutes of cruising the aisles before I started to drop, again. My hamstring was hurting and I knew I needed to drop really quickly. My husband was dazed by tiles, grout and other shit that seemed so dumb at the time. I finally had to drop after about 20 minutes. I saw a flat bed cart int he aile and ended up taking a seat on it. ohhh, much better. Stretching out my legs and back and relaxing...until the owner of the cart came by. He looked at me like I was insane, for obvious reasons. I apologized and got up, taking way longer than I wanted to. Oh well.
As soon as we got home, my stomach said to me 'pizza after a long hard tough race? Yeah I don't think so' and started evacuating into the nearest toilet. That was cool.
The next day, after still not enough sleep, we hit breakfast and Lowes again to actually buy the tile.
More of the same, wandering the aisles while my husband did math in his head, figured out grout and mortar and blah blah blah....Then it was on to Home Depot. Then back to Lowes. I think I lasted about two hours before dropping again and this time there was no strangers cart to sit on. So I bitched instead. My dear husband got the hint and we went home.
The irony of it is, as hard as all that was? Tuesday came along and I don't feel a thing in terms of pain, or stiffness or tight muscles, nothing! I feel great! ( I mean other than the runners rash covered in baby butt cream that still feels like hell) So again, the rule of 'keep moving when you are sore and hurting' really does ring true, as much as I hate it.
We chose pizza, because well, it sounded good. And when I say 'we' I mean me. Others who did not do 13.1 didn't get to choose. nu uh.
So we hit a pizza buffet, I ate until I was comfortably full and that was that. My dear sweet man decided this was the perfect time to go buy out tile samples.
Are you freaking kidding me?
Nope, he wasn't at all. So in we went to Lowe's, me, still in my sweat caked clothes, my salty legs, horrible hat hair, race bib, and medal wearing to look at tile. I lasted about fifteen minutes of cruising the aisles before I started to drop, again. My hamstring was hurting and I knew I needed to drop really quickly. My husband was dazed by tiles, grout and other shit that seemed so dumb at the time. I finally had to drop after about 20 minutes. I saw a flat bed cart int he aile and ended up taking a seat on it. ohhh, much better. Stretching out my legs and back and relaxing...until the owner of the cart came by. He looked at me like I was insane, for obvious reasons. I apologized and got up, taking way longer than I wanted to. Oh well.
As soon as we got home, my stomach said to me 'pizza after a long hard tough race? Yeah I don't think so' and started evacuating into the nearest toilet. That was cool.
The next day, after still not enough sleep, we hit breakfast and Lowes again to actually buy the tile.
More of the same, wandering the aisles while my husband did math in his head, figured out grout and mortar and blah blah blah....Then it was on to Home Depot. Then back to Lowes. I think I lasted about two hours before dropping again and this time there was no strangers cart to sit on. So I bitched instead. My dear husband got the hint and we went home.
The irony of it is, as hard as all that was? Tuesday came along and I don't feel a thing in terms of pain, or stiffness or tight muscles, nothing! I feel great! ( I mean other than the runners rash covered in baby butt cream that still feels like hell) So again, the rule of 'keep moving when you are sore and hurting' really does ring true, as much as I hate it.
Book Review: The Runners Rule Book
The Runners Rule Book was a great combination of humor, reality and sound advice. It covered everything from getting to know Step Prefontaine to using socks as toilet paper instead of leaves. No joke!
The etiquette of running seems to be a vanishing sport, the 'rules' of which side to run on, how to pass, how to cooperate with traffic and whatnot seem known to some, but not to everyone. It's this kind of 'rule' book that is very much needed, with some actual 'rules' or at least guidelines to go by. In my experience, people seem to have different ideas of the rules, and while some make sense, others just don't care.
It's a fun book that likely any runner will enjoy, especially knowing that one can relate to many situations and experiences in the book. While maybe not an official 'rules' book, it's filled with both practical and fun guidelines to follow to make the most of the running experience.
http://www.amazon.com/The-Runners-Rule-Book-Everything/dp/1605295809/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363815862&sr=8-1&keywords=rules+for+runners
Cluster Fudge
I'm now 4 days pre race and I'm hating every moment of it. I went for my final training run last night, a simple 30 minute-ish that should have been a walk in the park. It wasn't. It was horrible from the start. And the irony is, I almost knew I shouldn't have even bothered.
I've said before I'm a slow starter, it can take me up to 3 miles just to warm up. The shorter the run, the more it seems like 'why bother'? I don't warm up fast, I never have. Last night instantly I knew I was in trouble. My caves froze up within moments. I pushed on as I figured in a short time I'd be done. Not happening. At all. I cut it out early and headed home. Knowing how horrible that short mile and a half had been, I started to doubt and wonder. What the hell am I doing?
I had picked up my race shirt and bib, so I had a new motivation and inspiration staring me in the face and yet, I started to feel a sense of true ugly I was not familiar with. As I always do, I snapped a picture of my race shirt and bib to sent it to family and friends and one response I got was "don't be nervous, remember that 8 billion Chinese could give a rat's ass" which I took that to mean
"eh, who cares". Alrighty then. Message clear. No one cares. Gotcha. Ouch.
This morning I woke up just tired, my inspiration and motivation has been shot through the heart. The message in my head from the night before still stinging in my mind only to be met with a friend asking if I could do her a favor on Sunday morning. Appearing to have no idea I was going to be a little busy, despite her always encouraging me and asking about my training.
I got a text message reminding me to continue my training up until race day. I responded I was doing no more runs until Sunday. " I wouldn't do that if I were you" was the reaction.
Well, lucky for you , you aren't me right now.
While this in itself has the potential to put me in a very very bad mood and make me feel less than competent, untrained and basically going to make me look like a joke out there... I need to remember the cardinal rule of running: Don't compare yourself to others
So much easier said than done right now.
So it appears I'm in a horrible state of mind right now and while I think/hope/pray to any Almighty that's listening that it's temporary funk of the mind, that I will get out of it in no time, right now I'm terrified, my confidence is nowhere to be found and my mind is seriously wandering if I can/want to do this at all. It's a horrible place to be.
I've said before I'm a slow starter, it can take me up to 3 miles just to warm up. The shorter the run, the more it seems like 'why bother'? I don't warm up fast, I never have. Last night instantly I knew I was in trouble. My caves froze up within moments. I pushed on as I figured in a short time I'd be done. Not happening. At all. I cut it out early and headed home. Knowing how horrible that short mile and a half had been, I started to doubt and wonder. What the hell am I doing?
I had picked up my race shirt and bib, so I had a new motivation and inspiration staring me in the face and yet, I started to feel a sense of true ugly I was not familiar with. As I always do, I snapped a picture of my race shirt and bib to sent it to family and friends and one response I got was "don't be nervous, remember that 8 billion Chinese could give a rat's ass" which I took that to mean
"eh, who cares". Alrighty then. Message clear. No one cares. Gotcha. Ouch.
This morning I woke up just tired, my inspiration and motivation has been shot through the heart. The message in my head from the night before still stinging in my mind only to be met with a friend asking if I could do her a favor on Sunday morning. Appearing to have no idea I was going to be a little busy, despite her always encouraging me and asking about my training.
I got a text message reminding me to continue my training up until race day. I responded I was doing no more runs until Sunday. " I wouldn't do that if I were you" was the reaction.
Well, lucky for you , you aren't me right now.
While this in itself has the potential to put me in a very very bad mood and make me feel less than competent, untrained and basically going to make me look like a joke out there... I need to remember the cardinal rule of running: Don't compare yourself to others
So much easier said than done right now.
So it appears I'm in a horrible state of mind right now and while I think/hope/pray to any Almighty that's listening that it's temporary funk of the mind, that I will get out of it in no time, right now I'm terrified, my confidence is nowhere to be found and my mind is seriously wandering if I can/want to do this at all. It's a horrible place to be.
The Shamrock'n Half Marathon
Holy Mother of God, I DID IT!!!! thirteenpointone.
The race...ah yes, the race. From the beginning of Race Day Adrenaline, it was strange. There was a strange calm, like I was not nervous, I was not scared, I was not dreading, I was not worried. Very very bizarre. But I was stressed. Beyond belief. I just did not feel it?
Looking back on the pre-race days, I see a lot more clearly now. A week ago, I was coming nearer and nearer to this enormous event and I was scared. The problem was, I am almost under the belief that my fear was bigger than me. It consumed me in a way that I did not know how to handle, so what did I do? I turned back to my old standby of poor eating, nutrition and bad habits all around. It sucked. I ate crap because I was stressed and then I would stress out because I was eating crap. It was a vicious circle I thought I had conquered. I was wrong.
Going into the race, so much of it was all a blur. its' still a blur, actually. For a day or two afterwards I'd snap out of a daydream, think about the race and wondered if it was real. I had dreamed of it so many times, I wondered if it was all just another dream. The strangeness of it all was overpowering, yet in a strange sense calming as well. I headed to the VIP area of my training group and I saw people there, so many were extremely happy, excited, they definitely had the faces of Race Day Adrenaline. Lord knows what my face said.
During the race, the most incredible thing I noticed was that I did not have that-every-race-thinking of " This is it, my last race, I'm done." I've thought that in every single hard race I've done. That thought was not anywhere near my mind. Nor was the "Why am I doing this?" thoughts. I can't remember exactly what I thought the whole time, but it was like there was no negativity in my mind at all. Very strange.
The only real issues I had was running out of electrolytes. This downright sucked. After about mile 10, I knew I was starting to drop, and drop hard. My calves would take turns on cramping out in a way that would make me fall flat on my face. There was no pain in these cramps, just absolutely debilitating any movement. I'll add here that this kind of pissed me off. You mean to tell me that with all the 560 problems I could have encountered, electrolytes is the one problem? Seriously?! So I would run a bit, then have to stop and walk. This went on at least the last mile and a half. At one point I was so mad that I wanted to keep running, despite the cramping and nope. I knew instantly that I'd be in a serious injury if I tried. Damnit! But I survived.
The highlight of the race, was seeing no only my fellow training program runners out there cheering me on with the man and kiddo, but also seeing my brother, sister and brother in law. I reached them and was so surprised I started breathing weird. I knew I wanted to cry, but they had cameras in hand! No crying pictures for me! No! So I held it in, but then the need to puke was huge. I knew one way or another something was going to come out. I only prayed it was the upper end.
I had to keep running past them all, despite wanting to stop and hug them all for some much needed comfort, but I also knew if I did, I'd stop right then and there. So I went on. I got safely past them and then spend likely the next mile or so crying my eyes out* at how much it all meant to me.
Maybe that's where my electrolytes went.
The finish was just that...a finish. My time was horrible, I knew that, but at that point, when I damn near fell over the finish line because of seizing calves, I didn't care. After I crossed the finish line of the stadium, the first thing I did was walk up stairs. Are you kidding me? omg. That was just cruel as hell. What was even more cruel was reaching the top of these stairs to have a representative from a local Massage Clinic hand me a card asking me to be a guest for a well deserved massage. In my oxygen and water depleted state, I heard " come for a free massage" I was stoked.
But instead, it was an offer for a $49 massage by appointment. Ok, screw you Massage place, gosh that felt mean to do to someone who was ready to die from fatigue and sore.
It's now day three post race and it still kind of doesn't seem real. What keeps it very real and alive for me is the lovely 'runners rash' [aka chafing] my bra left. Of course. For two days, everytime I moved a quarter of an inch I'd wince and cry out in pain. The worst one yet, leaving me to call my mommy for advice before I feared I had to seek medical attention. So here I sit, with baby butt cream on my chest and wondering if it was all worth it.
Yes, of course it was.
* I denied this to nearly everyone, however.Call me a liar, but I proudly announced that I did not cry, puke or sh!t my pants...but I had forgotten this little emotional overflowing.
The race...ah yes, the race. From the beginning of Race Day Adrenaline, it was strange. There was a strange calm, like I was not nervous, I was not scared, I was not dreading, I was not worried. Very very bizarre. But I was stressed. Beyond belief. I just did not feel it?
Looking back on the pre-race days, I see a lot more clearly now. A week ago, I was coming nearer and nearer to this enormous event and I was scared. The problem was, I am almost under the belief that my fear was bigger than me. It consumed me in a way that I did not know how to handle, so what did I do? I turned back to my old standby of poor eating, nutrition and bad habits all around. It sucked. I ate crap because I was stressed and then I would stress out because I was eating crap. It was a vicious circle I thought I had conquered. I was wrong.
Going into the race, so much of it was all a blur. its' still a blur, actually. For a day or two afterwards I'd snap out of a daydream, think about the race and wondered if it was real. I had dreamed of it so many times, I wondered if it was all just another dream. The strangeness of it all was overpowering, yet in a strange sense calming as well. I headed to the VIP area of my training group and I saw people there, so many were extremely happy, excited, they definitely had the faces of Race Day Adrenaline. Lord knows what my face said.
During the race, the most incredible thing I noticed was that I did not have that-every-race-thinking of " This is it, my last race, I'm done." I've thought that in every single hard race I've done. That thought was not anywhere near my mind. Nor was the "Why am I doing this?" thoughts. I can't remember exactly what I thought the whole time, but it was like there was no negativity in my mind at all. Very strange.
The only real issues I had was running out of electrolytes. This downright sucked. After about mile 10, I knew I was starting to drop, and drop hard. My calves would take turns on cramping out in a way that would make me fall flat on my face. There was no pain in these cramps, just absolutely debilitating any movement. I'll add here that this kind of pissed me off. You mean to tell me that with all the 560 problems I could have encountered, electrolytes is the one problem? Seriously?! So I would run a bit, then have to stop and walk. This went on at least the last mile and a half. At one point I was so mad that I wanted to keep running, despite the cramping and nope. I knew instantly that I'd be in a serious injury if I tried. Damnit! But I survived.
The highlight of the race, was seeing no only my fellow training program runners out there cheering me on with the man and kiddo, but also seeing my brother, sister and brother in law. I reached them and was so surprised I started breathing weird. I knew I wanted to cry, but they had cameras in hand! No crying pictures for me! No! So I held it in, but then the need to puke was huge. I knew one way or another something was going to come out. I only prayed it was the upper end.
I had to keep running past them all, despite wanting to stop and hug them all for some much needed comfort, but I also knew if I did, I'd stop right then and there. So I went on. I got safely past them and then spend likely the next mile or so crying my eyes out* at how much it all meant to me.
Maybe that's where my electrolytes went.
The finish was just that...a finish. My time was horrible, I knew that, but at that point, when I damn near fell over the finish line because of seizing calves, I didn't care. After I crossed the finish line of the stadium, the first thing I did was walk up stairs. Are you kidding me? omg. That was just cruel as hell. What was even more cruel was reaching the top of these stairs to have a representative from a local Massage Clinic hand me a card asking me to be a guest for a well deserved massage. In my oxygen and water depleted state, I heard " come for a free massage" I was stoked.
But instead, it was an offer for a $49 massage by appointment. Ok, screw you Massage place, gosh that felt mean to do to someone who was ready to die from fatigue and sore.
It's now day three post race and it still kind of doesn't seem real. What keeps it very real and alive for me is the lovely 'runners rash' [aka chafing] my bra left. Of course. For two days, everytime I moved a quarter of an inch I'd wince and cry out in pain. The worst one yet, leaving me to call my mommy for advice before I feared I had to seek medical attention. So here I sit, with baby butt cream on my chest and wondering if it was all worth it.
Yes, of course it was.
* I denied this to nearly everyone, however.Call me a liar, but I proudly announced that I did not cry, puke or sh!t my pants...but I had forgotten this little emotional overflowing.
Monday, March 11, 2013
The Missing Element...
I'm now 6 days and counting to the biggest race I've ever done. A Half Marathon. Not a relay, not just a 5K, not a 10Kbut the whole enchilada. 13.1 miles in front of me, just me to run, walk, skip, crawl and perhaps even puke on.
I've gone as much as 11.5 miles, the amount my training took me. It was tough. Veeerrry tough. But I did it. I've been thinking about this for a long time now, been preparing for it and I'm 6 days pre-race and I don't have a single jitter, not a speck of adrenaline. um. Yeah.
I can't remember exactly, but before my first race, a 5k, I remember having nerves and adrenaline quite some time ahead of the day of the race. Maybe 6 days pre-race is too soon. I can't remember how many days I had that surge of electric speeding adrenaline running through me. Maybe it will come on Wednesday.
Maybe I should add here that my training has not been all that strenuous. Oh it's there, all right. My training program is great...but I'm not doing it all. The stuff on my own? Forget it. It's been a half assed effort at best to get the extra runs in, the cross training. Too much going on, as usual.
So I should be nervous. Veeerrry nervous, right? And I'm not. At this point, I'm almost wondering if I've just got the confidence I need, knowing that I'll finish it, regardless.
Yet, I am desperately fearing I have some arrogance about me where arrogance is certainly not desired, earned or wanted. I have NO reason to be arrogant about a damn thing, to be honest.
So where are my nerves!? Without sounding like a whiny freak here, I'm going to say that the biggest thing I'm nervous about is my lack of nervousness. Does that make a lick of sense at all? I should be nervous. I should be scared out of my mind, knowing that it's my first long long race, I've not done everything possible to ensure a good race, I've had some knee problems, my foot is acting up again*, it's the first race kiddo will be able to see me in, I technically don't really have anyone close to me doing this with me, and it's freaking hard.
I can't say for sure why I feel so calm. Is it that I'm more mentally ready than I think I should be? Is it that I just don't care? Maybe it has not become a reality yet?
Lord knows. Nothing I can do about it now at this point. In a little more than 24 hours I'll be there to pick up the race packet. Then it's on! oh my.
* this is a whole 'nother Oprah. Existing foot issue I pretend not to have. Generally mild, not much of a problem, has not bothered me until recently, and again, I choose to ignore it for now.
I've gone as much as 11.5 miles, the amount my training took me. It was tough. Veeerrry tough. But I did it. I've been thinking about this for a long time now, been preparing for it and I'm 6 days pre-race and I don't have a single jitter, not a speck of adrenaline. um. Yeah.
I can't remember exactly, but before my first race, a 5k, I remember having nerves and adrenaline quite some time ahead of the day of the race. Maybe 6 days pre-race is too soon. I can't remember how many days I had that surge of electric speeding adrenaline running through me. Maybe it will come on Wednesday.
Maybe I should add here that my training has not been all that strenuous. Oh it's there, all right. My training program is great...but I'm not doing it all. The stuff on my own? Forget it. It's been a half assed effort at best to get the extra runs in, the cross training. Too much going on, as usual.
So I should be nervous. Veeerrry nervous, right? And I'm not. At this point, I'm almost wondering if I've just got the confidence I need, knowing that I'll finish it, regardless.
Yet, I am desperately fearing I have some arrogance about me where arrogance is certainly not desired, earned or wanted. I have NO reason to be arrogant about a damn thing, to be honest.
So where are my nerves!? Without sounding like a whiny freak here, I'm going to say that the biggest thing I'm nervous about is my lack of nervousness. Does that make a lick of sense at all? I should be nervous. I should be scared out of my mind, knowing that it's my first long long race, I've not done everything possible to ensure a good race, I've had some knee problems, my foot is acting up again*, it's the first race kiddo will be able to see me in, I technically don't really have anyone close to me doing this with me, and it's freaking hard.
I can't say for sure why I feel so calm. Is it that I'm more mentally ready than I think I should be? Is it that I just don't care? Maybe it has not become a reality yet?
Lord knows. Nothing I can do about it now at this point. In a little more than 24 hours I'll be there to pick up the race packet. Then it's on! oh my.
* this is a whole 'nother Oprah. Existing foot issue I pretend not to have. Generally mild, not much of a problem, has not bothered me until recently, and again, I choose to ignore it for now.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Cancer & kiddos and cars...oh my.
I've never been good at 'when life gets in the way' kinda stuff, so when I'm training for a race and life gets in the way, I'll admit my reactions are not always the way to go. This past week? Oh my.
It started off with my husband having a potential cancer scare. Not feeling so great, and some wonky test results had us wandering around with that horrible unknown question. While a pre-occupied run might have been a good idea, the thought of facing cancer, and potentially losing yet another loved one to cancer scared me stiff. Literally. I told myself I was not going to stress until I had something to stress about. yeah. right.
Monday night I came home to car trouble. Missed my Tuesday speed workout so I could pick up the rental car. Oh well. What are you gonna do? Three days, a rental car and $1500 later, the car is fixed and all is well, but once again life just got in the way.
Then my mom took a stumble and ended up in the Emergency Room on Thursday. It was minor, she's fine and all is well, but the sheer momentary panic and waiting in the ER was enough to make me go batty-again. Another workout missed, but again, what are you gonna do?
And of course, let's add to that, kiddos birthday party planning for Saturday. Her first sleepover and her nerves and adrenaline were enough to send us all batty. The planning and doing for the party went well, but trying to do it all, was never going to happen. Or so we thought.
The cake topper here is the 11 miles I was facing on Saturday. Never having done that, I was in a sheer panic most of the week. Knowing that I had so much going on, my nerves were shot, my sleep was jacked, I was in a state of mind that felt like drowning.
Not to mention about 2 hours after my 11 miler, I'd be expecting about 25 family and friends to show up for the day party. Good God. What have I done.
With roughly 7 hours of sleep between Friday and Saturday, by the grace of God, I survived it all.
By the time Sunday came around, my exhausted mind started to wonder if I could consider this training. It was pushing my body past anything normal, I was managing to figure out how to do it, and.... I didn't even cry! Don't I get points for that or something?
I'm not proud to admit I did not even try to make up for any lost workouts.
I'm not proud to admit I reacted with the stress by eating like a fraternity.
I'm not proud to admit I thought of quitting training all together, because it's too hard.
I'm not proud to admit I cursed myself for getting myself into this nonsense of running a half.
yet...I'm proud to admit that I did it.
I'm proud to admit that I didn't give in to my thoughts and quit.
I'm proud to admit that I can admit it all...the good, the bad, the ugly.
I'm proud to admit that I didn't even cry.
It started off with my husband having a potential cancer scare. Not feeling so great, and some wonky test results had us wandering around with that horrible unknown question. While a pre-occupied run might have been a good idea, the thought of facing cancer, and potentially losing yet another loved one to cancer scared me stiff. Literally. I told myself I was not going to stress until I had something to stress about. yeah. right.
Monday night I came home to car trouble. Missed my Tuesday speed workout so I could pick up the rental car. Oh well. What are you gonna do? Three days, a rental car and $1500 later, the car is fixed and all is well, but once again life just got in the way.
Then my mom took a stumble and ended up in the Emergency Room on Thursday. It was minor, she's fine and all is well, but the sheer momentary panic and waiting in the ER was enough to make me go batty-again. Another workout missed, but again, what are you gonna do?
And of course, let's add to that, kiddos birthday party planning for Saturday. Her first sleepover and her nerves and adrenaline were enough to send us all batty. The planning and doing for the party went well, but trying to do it all, was never going to happen. Or so we thought.
The cake topper here is the 11 miles I was facing on Saturday. Never having done that, I was in a sheer panic most of the week. Knowing that I had so much going on, my nerves were shot, my sleep was jacked, I was in a state of mind that felt like drowning.
Not to mention about 2 hours after my 11 miler, I'd be expecting about 25 family and friends to show up for the day party. Good God. What have I done.
With roughly 7 hours of sleep between Friday and Saturday, by the grace of God, I survived it all.
By the time Sunday came around, my exhausted mind started to wonder if I could consider this training. It was pushing my body past anything normal, I was managing to figure out how to do it, and.... I didn't even cry! Don't I get points for that or something?
I'm not proud to admit I did not even try to make up for any lost workouts.
I'm not proud to admit I reacted with the stress by eating like a fraternity.
I'm not proud to admit I thought of quitting training all together, because it's too hard.
I'm not proud to admit I cursed myself for getting myself into this nonsense of running a half.
yet...I'm proud to admit that I did it.
I'm proud to admit that I didn't give in to my thoughts and quit.
I'm proud to admit that I can admit it all...the good, the bad, the ugly.
I'm proud to admit that I didn't even cry.
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