Getting Laid at the Bolder Boulder 10K

When we last met at this blog, I was debating whether to race my 10K in the morning or run it with son, Sam (12). There was a definite majority opinion from the blog world.

Okay, okay. You talked me into it. I ran with Sam. And I’m glad I did. He was trying to beat his time of 59:00 from last year and he really needed some encouragement out there. Really, if I were to die tomorrow, I know I’d be happier I ran it with my boy.

I decided since I wasn’t racing, I should dress up.

It was actually Emma’s idea. I swear. Sam wasn’t too thrilled since I’d be his running partner. He took one look at me and said:

Sam: Seriously, you’re not wearing that.

Me: Yep.

Sam: You can't. That’s just not going to go well.

Well, in your face. It did go well.  We were about .1 mile down the road before the first frat boy yelled, “Hey you got laid!” Hahhaha. I’ve never heard that one before. Sam said, “I think he was talking to you.”

Here’s at the start. Dr. Oz was right above me. He shot the gun. We discussed open heart surgery and poop cycles:

Pre-race prep:

All the shoes…a family that runs together still argues and gets on each other’s nerves…

 

Putting on the bib, a dad’s job:

Walking out the door at 6:30am…mini me with the one eyed dog:

The kids scored PRs from last year. Sam = 57:00; Emma = 1:07. Not too shabby.

Hubs and I. We are very patriotic.

 

I only run this race for an excuse to drink beer at 8:30 a.m. It’s my favorite past time. How did you spend your Memorial Day?

Hard to Hold It In

This morning’s five mile run sucked the big one. I could get all wigged out and decide I have become an out of shape and sluggish loser since my marathon three weeks ago, but I prefer to blame it on:

• No breakfast
• Pretzels, cheese and crackers for dinner last night along with two glasses of wine (Friday night partay while watching the Bachelorette!)
• Hot weather. I have become a wimp. I learned in my training class that 55 degrees is the optimal running temperature. Warmer than that and your performance degrades. Even if you are running in 35 degree weather, your performance is hindered due to the energy being used to keep your body warm. Anyway, I am a wimp in the heat.
• I had to poop the whole way. This is what I hate. I try to go before I run. Nothing. No urge even. I run maybe a half mile (too far from the house to turn around) and a turd is honking. Dammit. So what’s the game plan? Hold it in? Climb under the bridge? Pinch one off in the shorts? I held it. But it bugged me the ENTIRE way, as in I couldn’t think of anything else but sitting on the pot.

Some runs are just like that right?

Speaking of the running coaches' certification training…one cool fun fact is that Deena Kastor’s husband, Andrew, was in our class.  He is already a running coach in Mammoth. He’s also Deena’s physical therapist. I sat by him on the first day. I tried to breathe in his aura so maybe I will become faster. Deena and I have a lot in common. We both had cuboid stress fractures. I guess the commonalities end there.

I learned a ton. It was 18 hours long, so it’s impossible to cover too much on this blog. Probably the most informative parts were about fueling and taking care of oneself in order so stay uninjured and to race well. This includes lots of rest, stretching, proper nutrition. Duh. It also includes lots and lots of running at slow paces. I realize that I have not respected the long run as much as I should have. I have been running too fast. Apparently you should feel really good and hungry after you run and not like you’re going to puke and die. The idea is to use the long runs to help your body build a strong base for when you do race. The point is not to go out and kill yourself.

Another interesting tidbit is that the long run doesn't need to be as long as your race, but should simulate the amount of time you will spend on your feet during the race. So, if you are running a half marathon and plan to do it in two hours, your longest run should take you two hours, but should be at a slower pace than race pace. So, you are running a shorter distance, but are out there for the same amount of time. Makes sense, right?

So, now if I could just pass the freaking 100 question test, I’ll be good to go. There wasn't nearly enough emphasis on crapping during runs. If the test was on that, I would pass with flying colors.

The big Bolder Boulder 10K (50,000 runners) is Monday. The whole family is partaking. I am torn if I should: 1) race it (I haven’t raced a 10K. They put me in a wave based on my last 5K time which estimates a 47:30 finish – yeah, right) or 2) run it with Sam and help him get close to 55 minutes (his goal) and make sure he’s not abducted or crushed by the crowd. What should I do??? I know which one would be more fun. Not running it in 47 minutes. In any event, I’ll have my eye out for Shana, Half Fast and his main squeeze, Candice, who will all be there!

Finally, here’s a funny story. Emma (9) and I were watching the Bachelorette last night. One of the guys told the Bachelorette that he got the nickname “Shooter” in college because he prematurely…well, you know (nice first impression conversation, right?) Emma asked me what was going on. I said I didn’t know, because I’m not about to go into that with my 9 year old, plus I’ve never prematurely ejaculated so I don’t know what it’s like. She said, “I think he shot someone.” Well, kind of.

Melt in Your Mouth

The winner of the “Choose You'” giveaway is Carly from Tri-ing My Hardest. She was 85/262 picked at Random.org. Email me!

I had a great revelation yesterday. Sometimes it’s the little breakthroughs that keep us going, right?

I love Clif Bars. I find those hefty turd-like nuggets to be ultimately satisfying. My favorite flavor? White chocolate macadamia nut. Yesterday I left my turd-nugget in the car while at work for a few hours. It was the first 90 something degree day  in a long time. The heat and sun warmed and softened the nugget such that when I got back in the car it was like a just out of the oven cookie and melted in my mouth. Seriously, if you haven’t warmed your Clif Bar lately (that’s not a euphemism, but it would be a great one), you need to get on it. Don’t worry about leaving it in a hot car – that’s what the microwave is for, right?

What I wouldn't recommend? Leaving a small pet or child in a hot car for a few hours while you’re at work. I don’t think it would have the same positive effect.

Here is something that’s been on my mind lately. I’ve always been a risk taker. I jumped off 50’ cliffs into the Aegean while living in Greece, rappelled down a ten story building in college, traipsed through underground caves, did body shots on a fireplace mantel at Kappa Sig. After having kids, this risk-taking took a back seat. After all, I am a mother and can’t be putting myself in precarious situations, right? As of late, that risky nature has returned and I find myself wanting to skydive and do various other things that are inherently more risky than say, fast walking with other moms around the lake.

Here’s the thing. We all know that living is risky. You might die when you drive your car today. You might be running on the beach and get hit by an airplane. The porta potty you are crapping in might get pushed down a hill by some hoodlums. We can’t deny, however, that some behaviors carry a higher risk level than others. These would include, but not be limited to:

• BASE jumping
• Bull riding
• Scuba diving (especially in caves)
• Mountain climbing
• Heli skiing

What’s interesting is when you look at the stats related to something like skydiving - your chances of dying in this activity are 1 in 100,000 if you jump once per year. Your chances of dying in a car accident are 1 in 6,000. So, although skydiving appears to be the riskier behavior, because we drive so much and have a comfort level with it that makes it seem safe, it’s actually more hazardous. Just sayin’.

But all that aside, here’s the question. As a parent who is responsible for his/her children and wants to be around to watch them grow into adults, do we have a responsibility to shy away from behaviors labeled “risky”? Would be be a bad parent if we engaged in dicey stuff, or do we keep living fully and in the moment regardless? 

What’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done?

PS: Misszippy is having a great Somnio jacket giveaway. Check it out HERE.

I’m Baaaack…

Did you miss me? I’m home from Vegas with:

1. A tattoo that looks like this:

Hahhahahahha!! Got ya. I chickened out and didn’t get one mostly because I was wasn’t certain what to get. Thanks for all of your great input on the subject, though. Maybe next year.

2. My virginity in tact

3. Many new friends who I will never see or talk to again. My faves included the 40 year old dude who came to the pool wearing water wings, the woman who was topless and wore only dental floss down low (we called her string licorice), a NHL hockey player from Poland with an anger management problem, and a Texan sugar daddy with a yacht and young girlfriend, just to name a few.

4. Negative $65.00. I was down $300 in blackjack after a day. I managed to recoup all but $65 yesterday.  Anytime I come home from Vegas almost even, I call it good.

5. A tan.

6. Liver damage. I find that I enjoy a lifestyle where you get up and run up and down the strip at 6:00a.m. for 6 miles, then sit your ass down at the pool for the next ten hours and drink continuously until bedtime. This drinking habit helps #2 be more possible.

7. An-almost running coaches certification. More of this to come. The training was REALLY informative and REALLY long. I have to take and past the 100 problem test this weekend before getting an official certification. Good thing I got this done before I did #6.

8. Some pictures (because I know you live for this stuff):

Julie and I getting ready for our run. Running the length of the Strip was super cool. You have to run the overpasses to avoid the stoplights, so you have to add in 12 flights of stairs to the run. The only people out were other runners, the homeless and those hard core types who hadn’t made it home yet from the night before. Yep, the cheetah came out to play:

Julie , Jen (my sis in law) and me poolside:

       

Not sure why the guy to the right is touching himself:

I asked some guy to take a picture of me and my friends in front of the Pink Taco restaurant at the Hard Rock. After asking me if I knew what a pink taco was (duh), he took a picture of himself. I don’t think he had any teeth and he might be insane. I’m glad he didn’t steal my camera.

I told you about this dude. Can you say attention seeking?:

Here’s the view from my room at the Wynn. At first they had me in a room on the 7th floor overlooking a parking lot. I pitched a fit knowing that the squeaky wheel gets the grease (I told you I’m high maintenance) and I got moved to the 23rd floor overlooking the pool, mountains and golf course. It pays to be a bitch sometimes.

Sorry I didn’t get a picture of the girl with the licorice. Maybe next time.

Topless

I told you I’m going to Vegas tomorrow. I am attending an RCCA training to become certified as a running coach. I wonder if they certify people who crap their pants while running (and admit it). I will probably raise my hand within the first ten minutes and ask this question just to get in good with the instructors and my classmates. I will also wear all of my race medals, compression socks and a camelback. I want these people to know I am a serious runner.

After two-9  hour days of training, it will be girl time. Some of my girlfriends are coming in for the fun part of the trip. We’re staying at the Wynn because I happen to love the topless pool there. If you’re really classy you call it the “European Pool.” No, I don’t go topless; don’t be ridiculous. No one wants to look at these little lumps topped with pencil erasers. But, I like to see who does take it off. Usually it’s not the people you would hope, but the ones who should probably remain covered. Think flab, bad tattoos and scars. But I give them credit for putting themselves out there, literally.

Another reason I like the Wynn pool is the blackjack tables. To me there is nothing, nothing better than sitting at a  table in my bikini (and race medals and camelback), beer in hand, playing cards (and hopefully winning big).

So if you’re in sin-city this weekend, come find me.

The thought has crossed my mind to get a small tattoo. Just because. So far I am tattoo-less. The big mental jump is that this thing is permanent and will be with me until I die at 85 (I just decided that’s when that would happen). Let’s get real. I’m already 43. That means if I hate the tat I only have 42 more years to live with it.

Do you have a tattoo? If so, ever regretted it? If not, would you consider one? What should I get, and on what part of my body?

Don’t forget my giveaway HERE.

“Choose You” Healthy Lifestyle Giveaway!

I got an email from Liz Steinhardt on behalf of the American Cancer Society this week. ACS is  launching a new “Choose You Healthy Lifestyle” movement to encourage women to put their own health first and to make choices to help prevent cancer. 

I know I joke a lot on this blog about running, pooping and the like, but one of the real reasons I run is to stay fit and healthy. I like fighting age the old fashioned way through botox, boob job exercise, good eating, sound sleeping, laughter and an adventurous spirit.

According to the ACS, “about half of all cancer deaths could be prevented if people maintained a healthy weight through diet and regular exercise; avoided tobacco products; and got recommended cancer screening tests.”

People! That means you! If you knew you could cut your risks by 50 percent, shouldn’t you go for it? I know I am preaching to the choir here because most of you are already leading pretty damn healthy lifestyles, but is there anything you could do better? Is there anyone you could encourage to lead a healthier lifestyle?

Liz offered to send me a “Choose You Get Healthy Gift Bag”* if I would promote this movement on my blog. Hell yeah! And she said she would give me a second one to give away to one lucky reader.

I wasn’t sure what would be involved in this mystery gift bag and she didn’t specify. Would it be a coupon to Subway and a fake Bic lighter? Some tofu and a box of red wine?

Today, I got this secret gift bag via FedEx and was quite impressed by the contents:

 

• One $50 gift card to Walgreen’s (sweet, right?)
• One very cool Choose You turquoise t-shirt (I put it on my one-eyed, three legged dog for your viewing enjoyment. Better than taking a picture of it on the counter)
• One sleek Choose You 25 oz water bottle
• Two pens (one from Sprite Zero, the other “Choose You”)
• One flower hair clip (I just gave mine to my daughter; not my style unless I go to Hawaii)
• One Choose You flower pin – a symbol of ACS’s new health movement to inspire women to put their health first and to make healthy lifestyle choices to prevent cancer
• Coupon for a free Sprite Zero

Interested in getting your hands on this schwag? If so, do one or all of the following:

1. Leave me a comment telling me how you maintain a healthy lifestyle (+1)
2. Leave a second comment telling me which healthy habit you would like to adopt right now and forever more (+1)
3. Spread the word on your own blog about this giveaway and leave me a comment letting me know (+1)

Each should be a separate comment.

Remember – this giveaway is not limited to women only. Guys – you could always use the $50 to Walgreens for condoms or a jock strap. Enter for your mom, your sister, your wife, your daughter!!

I’ll pick a winner on May 27, 2010. The goods will be sent to you directly from Choose You and ACS.

Because I know you are wondering – what new healthy habit am I going to adopt??? It’s a VERY COOL one and you can do it too. It is environmentally supportive, tasty, extremely healthy, out of my comfort zone, and affordable. Think you know what it is? I will talk about it in a future blog post, so stay tuned.

Well, I’m off to the land of hoes (not the garden tool variety), no clocks/windows, porn and really nice hotels first thing Saturday morning. Yep, VEGAS baby. I am planning to run a few miles on the strip because I’ve always wanted to do this. I might do it in the nude because:

• What happens in Vegas…(if one more person says this to me, I’ll kick them in the nuts)
• Anything goes in this town. At the very least I’ll sport the cheetah skirt (and braids for Steve Q).

More next week post-Vegas, if I’m still alive.

*These gift bags are courtesy of  the American Cancer Society. I paid nothin’ for them.

Camel Toads?

Here's the thing. I've got this pesky triathlon coming up in a couple of weeks. I was too busy running my ass off to train for the marathon that I let my cross training go to hell as of late. I know. I said I cross trained while training for the marathon, but I guess I only did that kind of. I am a liar. In the end I focused only on running and yoga.

I last swam on April 9 (58 lengths). I last biked on March 3 (12 miles). I think this triathlon training of mine might be a bit imbalanced. If I am lucky I won't drown, will finish the 12 mile ride in 3 hours, and will kick ass on the run.

I’m not sure why I signed up. It sounded good at the time. Anymore, I only swim and bike when:

1. I’m injured
2. I want to be a stronger runner

My last and only triathlon was 10 years ago before I got pregnant with Emma. The styles have changed, people. These days people are sporting killer designer tri outfits and riding on pimped out bikes.

I have no tri clothes. I wore this ten years ago and looked like a dork who needs a tan, but I might wear it again. I think I am singing.

And…my bike? Yep, it is exactly 20 years old. It is a Specialized Allez, but it might as well be this:

Today I got back in the saddle, and I’m not talking horses. I had to wear Ken’s old cycling shorts because I couldn’t find the one pair I own. The padding was huge and ridiculous and the shorts came up to my boobs. Here I am post-ride. That’s not a dookie, a reverse penis, or a Depends in the back of my shorts. Just an ill-fitting pair of men’s spandex (it is a cute jacket though):

15.63 miles, 57 minutes, 16.2 mpg average pace. Ugh. I am way slow. I am going to get smoked by everyone including your 82 year old grandpa on oxygen.

Here are the questions: Do you do triathlons? What do you wear? Do you use a Garmin? Do you like my shorts?

I will end with the following gem of an article. I’m sorry to be crude (but if you read this blog, you’ve come to not only expect it, but crave it). This Dr. Abby-type clipping about killed me:

I’ve got a pretty sweet giveaway coming in the next couple of days, so visit back!

After Thoughts and Lessons Learned

At exactly this time, this moment, a week ago I was crossing the finish line of the Colorado Marathon and celebrating a PR and a BQ. Having had 7 days of rest (only one yoga session and one 5 mile run), lots of wine, many calorie laden meals, one massage, and exactly four large dumps (I never said I was regular), I’ve had lots of time to think about how it all played out, what I learned and what I might do differently next time. Here’s me thinking  while I swing like a carefree child:

Let me start by saying – I know that just because I BQ’d, I am not some running guru or speedster. There are hundreds of thousands of 43 year old women faster than me.  I just know what worked for me and helped me to cut 21 minutes off of my previous marathon time of only 17 months ago. This is just my personal success story.

There has been a lot of talk lately about how BQ’ing is “too easy,” especially for women. I guess those real fasties don’t like Boston to get watered down with those of us who are less speedy. However, there may be some truth to these claims, especially because men’s qualifying times are SO much more difficult than women’s. It seems either the men’s times need to get easier or the women’s harder to make it more balanced. In addition, the Boston Marathon is overflowing with people who have qualified and are trying to get in. This could be because there are so many more people running marathons these days, or it could be that it’s “too easy” to get there.  I don’t pretend to know. I’m just a girl trying to get to Bean-town.

I will say that it is an honor and privilege to be a 40-something woman who only started running in 2008 who is on her way to Boston. Maybe someone as inexperienced as I shouldn’t be able to BQ because that shows it’s not hard enough. But, I trained my ass off for this accomplishment, so I’ll take it with pride. I don’t know if I am too slow to run Boston, but I do know that the current standards have allowed me this opportunity. So, thanks B.A.A. for not changing anything…yet.

Things that worked for me this time around:

After running myself into the ground, getting a stress fracture and ending up like this:

(God, I look like a dork). I decided that for me, less really is more.

• I trained using a mix of the “Run Less, Run Faster” plan plus some of the Runner’s World Smart Coach. I rarely ran more than 3-4 times a week, but each of those runs (speed, tempo and long) were purposeful and difficult.  I did my Yassos to correlate with my hopeful marathon time.
• I started Bikram (hot) yoga and did this twice weekly during my training
• I took 1,200 mgs of calcium per day, a multi vitamin and acidophilus. I ate healthily and drank wine very regularly. I didn’t do meth or crack.
• During the 16 weeks of training I only ran 492 miles. That is a lot less than most of you but it’s still friggin’ 492 miles.  I also incorporated lots of cross training, mostly swimming
• I never ran more than 20 miles in a training run, and only did that once (because I had the shits on this run and got scared). My other longer runs were 18.5 miles (x2) and 18 miles (I still had the shits and left a present in a tree)
• With the exception of Ken running with me for parts of my long runs, I did all of them solo. I learned to enjoy my own company and to love the meditative quality of these runs. I was hell bent on keeping a certain pace and knew I would do that best if I ran alone.
• I got monthly massages. No honeysuckle touching allowed.

I won’t lie. The week before the marathon I added up my miles and psyched myself out with those age old pre-marathon messages – I haven't done enough. I can't keep my marathon pace over 26.2 miles. Will the Depend show through my cheetah running skirt?

What I now know is that my training plan worked like a charm. I was well prepared, mentally and physically. And I wanted it bad. REALLY bad.

Other things that worked:

• Wearing a pace band during the race. Used THIS ONE. I wasn’t sure if I’d love or hate having this on my wrist, but it saved me and kept me on track
• Not eating dairy or fiber three days before the race. No GI trouble, no porta potty stops, not even to pee
• I hydrated very well in the days leading up to the race
• I learned everything I could about the course and drove most of it. I visualized myself running the race strong, smiling and at marathon pace. I had all of my mental tools ready for when the going got tough.
• I made my goals public. There were times when I really wished I hadn’t done this because I felt like if I didn’t get there, I’d be a failure. But in the end, I think it made me work harder
• The week before the race I watched inspirational movies like “The Spirit of the Marathon” and “Race for the Soul.”

Lessons Learned:

• Turn off the auto pause on my Garmin
• Cut the toenail on my god awful Morton’s toe
• The things you worry about almost never happen (but, the really freaky things you don’t worry about, like your dog losing an eye, might)
• Even when things fall apart, it doesn't mean everything's going to hell. Always have hope
• NEVER lose sight of your goals. Keep the faith. If you don’t get them this time, try again. They’re yours for the taking.
• Don’t ingest pizza, chicken wings and beer the night before a long run. Ever.
• Stop worrying about what other people think. Do what’s right for you. Have confidence.
• Be kind to yourself. A time at the finish line is only hours and minutes. It doesn’t define you. You are not “good” because your time is “fast,” and you are not “bad” if you run at the back of the pack.

Thanks for reading and sharing this journey. Now a little anecdote from today:

Picking up my son (12) from school this afternoon, I noticed a girl who he’s known since kindergarten. I said (impulsively), “Wow, she’s really blossomed. In the chest area.” Sam said, “Hah! You jealous??”

Yes, my son, I am.

PS: Check out Tara’s giveaway for Silver Maple Jewelry!

Hitting a Wall and GU Winners

In light of my dog problems this week and the fact that am a runner, today was the day to post the running dog video.

It’s one of my most favorite videos on the planet right after those eight year old girls dancing to “Single Ladies” (What’s up with that anyway? Are you sure you want your daughter to have the nickname Kandy or Kitty or Trixie this early in life?). 

Yes, I know, you’ve probably seen this one below. But it just.does.not.get.old. I’m begging you, just see if you can watch the end and not laugh. Or cry if you’re a member of PETA or if you’re the guy who put up the drywall.

So..the newest GU flavor is….

Mandarin Orange!

It appears that many of you were hoping it would be Hershey squirt to honor my marathon. So sweet of you. Or gross.

Winners are (Time to fess up: did you guys google it? Just a good guess? Divine intervention?):

Isela, Running Girl, and Holly. Email me your addresses and I’ll send you one MO GU!

Have a great weekend.

Next post: Lessons learned from the marathon, so stay tuned. These lessons may include, but not be limited to: starving yourself before a marathon and getting your dog’s eye out to spark your adrenaline, and squirting in your cheetah skirt if you want a BQ.

Recovery and Guess That GU for a Prize

I can’t thank you enough for taking time to read my race report, to comment and to travel the marathon journey with me through the peaks and valleys, the emotions, the squirt and the distance. See? I can talk about things other than farts and poop. I really do have a heart just like the tin man or scarecrow or whoever. I never liked that movie much anyway. I found it a bit creepy.

I am still basking in the glory of my BQ. I wish strangers would ask how I am so I could tell them about my race. Maybe I will go to the grocery store naked wearing only my medal and see if anyone asks (or calls the police).  I’d even like it if the slow guy at Target who gathers the carts and tells me daily about the time he went to New Mexico on a Greyhound bus, would ask about my race. Lord knows I’ve listened to him enough over the years. Can’t it be about me just this once? Can’t it??

Coming down from this high is like the day after Christmas. So much build up, such a great day, then status quo and the thought, “What’s next?”

Truth be told, I never thought much about recovery. All of my momentum was towards race day and after that, there was a blank space.

Recovery so far for me has consisted of coffee, Jodi Picoult, vet visits, Modern Family, wine. Some experts suggest recovering one day per each mile run. That would be 26 days and 4.8 hours (yeah, just did that off the top of my head) of recovery depression. No way am I doing that. Hell, I’ve got a triathlon in 24 days.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m going to go out today on a long crap-inducing run or hit the track for my ten Yassos (which, by the way, kind of worked. I did my 800s at 3:30-3:42 and ran a 3:42 marathon. That Bart is a genius. And I’m not talking about the one who says “Don’t have a cow, man” and, “I will not draw naked ladies in class.” If you have no clue what I’m talking about, google Yasso 800s).

My plan is to do a reverse taper, build back up slowly, incorporate lots of swimming/biking and start 16 weeks of marathon training on June 27 (not that I have it planned out or anything) for the Denver Rock ‘n Roll on October 17.

Yesterday I had a post-race massage. Do you get naked for your massages? I got naked and wore my medal (just kidding). Yes, I strip down, but I only go to women. You see, in Mexico at a resort (five years ago) I had a Latino masseur who took some liberties. Let’s just say he got close to the honeysuckle, if you know what I mean. He didn’t officially cross the line, but he was in the ballpark. I came back to the room and told Ken I thought I might have just cheated on him, but I didn't mean to. Since that time I’ve gone to women in the United States.

Today my massage therapist told me my legs felt great (I don’t think she was hitting on me. If so, that would be two possible lesbian hits in one week. A first for me!). Anyway, she said the legs were loose and amazing. I’m taking this as a fine recovery sign. Other signs of a good recovery?

• I can sit on the toilet with no pain
• My appetite has returned with a vengeance (I couldn’t really eat the first 24 hours after the race). Hello Jelly Bellies!
• I took a huge dump yesterday. My first one since those awful hershey squirts on race day
• I can think about running and not be totally repulsed
• I laughed again at Ashley falling off the treadmill on the Biggest Loser (okay, this is not about recovery, but they showed it like 95 times on Tuesday and I can relate because I too fell of a treadmill. And, what is up with Michael’s headband?)
• I’m not sick.

What do you do for recovery?

So…Outside PR just sent me their newest flavor of GU*. I am one of the first to try it. Guess what the flavor is and I’ll send you one (first 3 to get it right):

*This product was provided to me free of charge by Outside PR.

Colorado Marathon Race Report – Part Two

When we left off last, Tara and I were starting our marathon journey down the canyon. We parted ways as we had different time and pace goals.

With the pre-race night I had, I had no clue what I could or would bring to this race. I expected the best, but was prepared for the worst. The temps were about 30 degrees, the air was crisp and cool and the sun was just starting to emerge through the canyon. We were running to the east, so the sun warmed our faces. I had on my cheetah running skirt to make me think I could run fast. I had asked for and gotten this skirt from Running Skirts for Christmas specifically for this race. I only wore it once during training to make sure it didn’t chafe in all the wrong places. It didn't. And no, I never soiled it.

Here was my strategy going into the race - it wasn’t rocket science: Run the first two miles 10-15 seconds slower than race pace (8:40). Pick it up after that and maintain between an 8:30 and 8:40 pace for the remainder of the race. I wore a pace band, and set it for a 3:45 marathon to give me some wiggle room.

I was good for the first mile and took it slow.

Mile 1: 8:49

Mile 2: 8:27 (well, I kind of broke my rule on this one).

Another marathon rule I had was to drink at every aid station, alternating sports drink (Heed during this race) and water or drinking both. I stuck to this for the entire race with the exception of miles 24 and 25 when I couldn’t have given a shit, I just wanted to get to the finish. I had decided I would take a Hammer gel every five miles.

Mile 3: 8:28

Mile 4: 8:21

The sun was starting to really shine through now. No one on the course was talking. It was extremely peaceful with only the sound of running shoes on pavement and the white water flowing in the river only feet from the road.  I was completely and utterly in the present moment. I had decided to hold off on any music until at least the halfway point, and was very glad I did. There are so few moments in life when we are simply present. When we are not worried about much of anything, are not multi-tasking, are not distracted. We are just taking in what is before us. I did not know if I would make it 26.2 miles. I did not know if I would meet any of my goals. I did know I could put one foot in front of the other.

Mile 5: 8:19 – vanilla Hammer gel

Mile 6: 8:18

Mile 7: 8:22

At this point I decided to take advantage of the downhill and bank some time. I knew that these miles would be my fastest because once we got out of the canyon (about mile 17), it would flatten out and there would be some hills. I checked my pace band every mile and knew I was at least 2 minutes ahead of a 3:45 marathon. It was good to know I had a cushion if I needed to slow down later. I started to pass a girl and she said “Geez!” I asked her what was wrong and she said, “Well, if anyone passes me I look at their legs and if their legs are strong and toned like yours, I decide it’s okay for them to pass me.” Then she added, “But, I AM NOT GAY!” Her being gay was the last thing on my mind. Like I would worry about a lesbian hitting on me at this point anyway. She told me she was running her first marathon and wanted to break four hours. I told her she was WAY on track to do this. We would run together until about mile 18 when her husband jumped into the road blaring a trumpet. Made me totally crack up. I lost her. I hope she met her goal. I love runners.

Mile 8: 8:27

Mile 9: 8:22

You think about a lot of things while you run. Now I thought about Lucky and the fact that he would have his eye removed in the morning. I cried a bit. Lucky has the must stunning, big, beautiful brown eyes and it killed me to think one of them would be gone. I kept thinking about that quote that “the eyes are the window to the soul” and it broke my heart. I tried to file the sadness away, but sometimes it overtook me.

Mile 10: 8:17 – vanilla Hammer gel

Mile 11: 8:30

Mile 12: 8:11

I thought about the fact that I was nearing the halfway mark. I got such a mental boost when I thought I was coming up on mile 11, but it was really mile 12! At this point I knew Ken had started the half marathon and was on the same course. It gave me some comfort knowing he was close by. I hoped he was having a great race. What I didn't know was that he had blown out his calf at mile 3 and had to hobble the remaining 10 miles.

Mile 13: 8:07

Half marathon time: 1:49 – right on track for a BQ!

First marathon girl and I whooped and hollered as we passed the halfway point. There is something so mentally uplifting about knowing you are halfway. I had just congratulated myself for not having any poop emergencies when I had an unexpected squirt in the skort. It would be the only one for the race, but at the time I got a little freaked. It was so surprising I actually yelled out, “Shit!” And it was.

Mile 14: 8:04

Mile 15: 8:20 – Tried to take a chocolate Hammer. It was like tar. Threw it away after gagging

Mile 16: 8:32

As we came out of the canyon the sun was in full force. Mile 17 was the first point where we saw spectators. My only marathon experience was the Rock ‘n Roll Phoenix which had thousands of spectators and entertainment every step of the way. This was such a different experience. Seeing those people cheering me on as I cruised by was incredibly invigorating. I felt like I was flying.

Mile 17: 8:29

Mile 18: 8:06

I’m not a big Rod Stewart fan, but I have always loved the song Forever Young because of the message contained in the song. This was playing in my ear as I cruised by the spectators. May the good Lord be with you down every road you roam. May sunshine and happiness surround you when you’re far from home. May you grow to be proud, dignified and true. And do unto others as you'd have done to you…

Mile 19: 8:19

Mile 20: 8:21 – banana Hammer gel

There was a big ass climb called Bagel Hill between miles 19 and 20. I saw an aid station at the top and was concentrating on that. I powered up the hill. I had given myself permission to grab a drink at the aid station and walk through, drinking, until the trash can several feet away. It was mentally good to know I could take 10 seconds rest walking at each aid station if need be.

At mile 20 I had a great boost when Jill appeared to cheer me on and run with me for a bit. She really lifted my spirits – told me all the things everyone wants to hear at mile 20: “You look great!”, “It’s all downhill from here.” “You’re almost there.” Thanks Jill, I needed that!

Mile 21: 8:20

Mile 22: 8:50

Mile 23: 8:38

At this point, I had to dig deep. Everything below my waist hurt. I started to feel sick. I knew it was only three miles to the finish, and I knew that I had trained for this very moment. Here is where my mental strength would need to take over my body. I expected this to come and when it came, I was prepared. I dissociated from my physical body in a sense. I told myself I was tough. I told myself that nothing would keep me from my goal. I reminded myself that I was running towards my mom, dad, husband and kids who were at the finish line. It was Mother's Day. I teared up. I knew at most I would only be running another 25-30 minutes. I knew I could do anything for that amount of time.

Mile 24: 9:08

Slowest mile of the race and most challenging. I clung onto two girls beside me who were going for a similar time goal. This was the point at which a volunteer was trying to balance three feet of stacked HEED cups and just happened to let them fall right in my path. I was not in the mood for this and had to hurdle them to avoid falling. Freaking A!!!  I told myself I could slow down until mile 25. Then I agreed with myself I would pick it up for the rest of the race. Yes, I was talking to myself at this point.

Mile 25: 8:35

I knew I had done it. I knew I could walk the rest of the way (but I wouldn’t) and still make my goal. I started yelling “YES!” and a huge smile took over my face.

Mile 26: 8:29

I saw Ken, my biggest fan, at the 26 mile mark. I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life!! He yelled, “Go baby go. You’ve got this! Run to the finish!” I turned the corner and saw the FINISH line sign. It was SO close.

.2 mile: 8:10

I sped up, searching the crowd for my parents and kids. I saw them on the side lines and cheering me on. Sam took these photos:

I crossed the line and fell into my dad’s arms, sobbing. Then my mom’s. It came gushing out.  The stress fracture, the missed marathon in November, the weeks of training, the love and support of family and friends, Lucky.

    

Final stats: 3:42:36/ 8:28 pace/ 8th out of 70th in age group

And…I shaved 21 minutes off of my one/only marathon time (4:03 - 17 months ago)

Then reality set in and in perfect Shut Up and Run style I started to feel sick:

I knew all those gels wanted to get out via the colon. I headed to the porta potty and some guy in line said, “Cheetah girl! You were really kickin it at the end.” I said, “…and I got my Boston qualifier.” He started screaming, “Cheetah girl is going to Boston!” I love runners.

I knew we had to make it home and make it home quick. I spent the afternoon in bed and on the toilet. Who cares? One of the best days ever. By 5pm I was up for a margarita.

And at 7:30 the next morning Lucky got his eye removed.  He is fine. He still has one beautiful brown eye. He is one eyed and three legged. And he still has an erection.

Thanks for reading about my journey. Running is so much more than physical. It is about accomplishment, determination, discipline and success. It makes me a better person.

Colorado Marathon Race Report – Part One

I’ll start this lengthy report answering the question on everyone’s mind. Did I mess my pants during the race? The short answer is no, not really. I had a very unexpected squirt at mile 15, but other than that, did not so much as stop at a porta-potty to pee. I know, weird, right? I swear my body did well with the lack of fiber and dairy in the days leading up to the race. Plus, not by my choice, but I was unable to eat the night before the race or morning of. While I wouldn’t recommend this, I think my tummy being empty was key. More details on that later.

I’m going to be honest. Last week sucked. I was all nerves. I could not shake this feeling of almost dread about the race. I was not excited, I was anxious. I wanted to meet my goals so badly that I was putting tons of pressure on myself. I love to run, but my love of running had taken a backseat.

So, Saturday had me on edge. After a good day of distraction with the kids’ soccer game and piano recital we dumped them on my parents and headed up to the expo in Ft. Collins (45 mins away). It was pretty small and dumpy with just a few tables set up in a dark and windowless room. Schwag bag was nothing but one Hammer gel, a too small tech shirt and some coupons. We did get to see Tara and then went to drive some of the marathon course. This lifted my spirits a bit and got me kind of excited even. I mean, who wouldn’t want to run this (It’s the Poudre Canyon. People around here refer to it as the Poudre – pronounced “pooter.” If they are taking a drive in this canyon, they say they are going “up the pooter,” which always make me laugh. How can you say that with a straight face)?     

 

We then headed for home.  I’m such a control freak, I had it all figured out - get take out: buttered noodles with chicken. Go home and eat, have a small glass of wine for the nerves, put bib on shirt, chip on shoe, set coffee maker, lights out by 8:30pm for a 3:00am wake up call.

What’s that saying about God laughing when we make plans? All of my intentions fell to shit when we walked in the door at 7:30 and I took a look at my dog, Lucky. Let me remind you Lucky is not so lucky because he has three legs and a penis that always hangs out. Like lipstick, but much grosser. On this night, Lucky was especially unlucky as his eye was seeping goop and it looked like he had had a stroke. He was clearly in pain and sick.  I took him to a pet ER (never in the eight years we’ve had this dog have I had to do this). I figured it was only 7:30pm, so if the vet quickly took care of the problem, I would be on time for a 9pm bedtime. Six hours of sleep? Perfect.

As the hours ticked by I realized I would not be going anywhere anytime soon. I learned that Lucky needed the eye removed and it would be a late night. I started sobbing. You have to understand. I love my dog, but I’m not someone who is going to sink tons of money into keeping an old dog with a big penis alive. But how can you put a dog down because of a bad eye? And my kids are so attached to this damn dog. And I might be a little attached too.

Emma (at age 3) with her dog, Lucky

The vet must have thought I was especially emotional about my dog losing his eye. After all I was carrying on like Jake from the Bachelor.  Yes, that was part of it. But the other part was that I needed to get to bed for the race, dammit. I considered not doing the marathon. How could I do it on no sleep and all this stress? Finally, I called my friend who is a vet and we decided to give Lucky pain meds and take him home and do the surgery first thing Monday.

I got home at 11:30pm. I had not had my dinner and couldn’t eat it anyway. Lucky had a cone on his head and was high from all the drugs. He was running into everything.  I had a glass of wine and tried to sleep. I got to sleep by midnight. 3am came early and I looked like shit  this:

It was not pretty. I was not pretty. In fact, I was downright stressed and depressed. I felt for sure I would bonk at mile five and run a really slow race. All that training out the window, for nothing. I would be lucky to break my first marathon time of 4:03.

But, here’s where the human spirit perseveres and prevails!! I met Tara at the buses at 4:15am. She was as much of a mess as I was. We were both hoping for a rock slide or avalanche so the race would be called off, but we would not be quitters.  It was a lifesaver having her there on that long bus ride up the canyon. We tried to eat, but there was some dry heaving. The girl behind us threw up. We got off the bus in darkness and both laid down some nuggets in the porta potties. We huddled up for warmth at the start, hugged, cried and started out.

Stay tuned…

It’s All About Me Today

You all believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself…

 

3:42:36

 

Which means BOSTON!!

Right now I have the runs so the race report will have to come later. It’ll be a good one, so check back.

Where Do You Buy Your Underwear?

You like how I listen to you guys? Check out the new layout. While some of you liked the old one, some thought it was hard to read. Hard to read my ass, you’re right! So, voila. Don’t say I never listen to you.

As you know I’m coming up on #2. Not in the bodily function sense, but in the marathon sense. My #2 is in three days. Thank God my next poop is not in three days.

What I've noticed is that the days leading up to a marathon find me doing things I would not normally do. Obsessively checking the weather, putting gels in my running skirt and running around the house to see how they feel tuck in there, eliminating fiber and dairy (yeah, if you think that’s overboard, you haven’t taken a run with me before – the urge to crap and the frequency with which this happens, sometimes in trees, is no joke. I’ll do anything to minimize the problem come race day). Another thing I do before marathons is go to the thrift store. Where else can you get layers of clothes to throw away on the sidelines of the race as you warm up? Usually I shop at Nordstrom for my throwaways, but given the recession, I’m scaling back.

I love me a good consignment store. To me, they are not thrift stores. I don’t know if there really is a difference, but in my pea brain the difference is enormous. The consignment store has designer clothes that are gently used. As in, minimal wear and tear, and only delicate farting has been done in these threads. The thrift store, however, is hard core. Anything goes. Corduroy from the 70s. Granny underwear. Sheets. Ewww – other' people's sheets. That’s just wrong.

I only go to the thrift store on two occasions: 1. to buy my underwear to shop for Halloween crap for my kids 2. prior to a race, especially one that will be freaking freezing at the start. There are very few things I hate worse than being cold.  One thing that’s worse is overflowing toilets in stranger’s homes. Another is putting diesel in my car by mistake. Other than that, being cold takes the cake.

Let me remind you that my race starts at almost 7,000 feet in the Colorado mountains. By my estimate it should be about 25*-30* at the start. And dark. With all that waiting around one has to do for the damn thing to start already, it will be chillier than that witches tit you saw on Halloween (in the thrift store).

Why is it when you walk into a thrift store the smell takes your breath away? What is that smell? Dirty feet plus Clorox plus mold? I can’t quite figure it out. Realistically it is the combined stench of thousands of unwashed pieces of clothing all in one place. Ick. But hot damn if you can’t find some great stuff! Whenever I get my throw away marathon clothes, I find myself getting attached to them and not wanting to throw them away after all. In fact, I bought Ken a black sweatshirt for his pre-race warmth. He took one look at it and said, “I might have to keep this! It’s nice.” No matter the fact he didn’t go to DU and has never held a hockey stick in his life. The thrift store lets you reinvent yourself!

As for me, I scored some great banana yellow lacrosse sweats and a killer zip up sweat shirt.

I feel like Jillian in these sweats since she always wears this style. Here is my best Jillian impression:

This is where I am yelling at someone for falling off the treadmill and puking. What the eff is your problem anyway? You think a little barf and tumble into the wall is going to slow you down? NOW GET BACK ON AND RAMP IT UP TO 12 MPH before I sit on your face!

I couldn’t stop there. I got the coolest Barbie blanket for Tara and me to cuddle under while we’re waiting for the gun. I hope she lets me get to second base:

Oh, and I couldn’t resist this $2.49 shirt (or especially short dress. I am going to Vegas at the end of the month after all. Some lace underwear and heels and I’ll be all set):

I’m going to end with a sweet little story. You know how I love it when people think of me when they poop/fart, etc? It’s so sweet. Well, this week I was honored in the most delicious of ways. Bootchez from Back of the Pack let me know she dedicated her marathon this past weekend to me. Why did she do this, you ask? Because she took two shits before even starting the race and two more while racing. Not in her pants mind you, but still.  While she acted kind of surprised that she had this much turd honking for the right of way, I think I know the culprit. Her pre-race words said it all:

“We rolled out of bed at 4:30 am, and I tucked into my planned breakfast.  Traditionally this has been a Egg McMuffin from McDonald's, but I figured a little similar pre-made thing from 7-11 would also fit the bill.  I have tried this in the past on a long training run, and it seemed to set right in my stomach and logistically was easier to obtain (since 7-11 is right down the street).  In any case, egg-muffin-and-a-coke and I was ready to go.”

Oh, Bootchez! You are one brave girl. Hats off!

And always remember what the wise say: “Man who fart in church sit in own pew.”

Not Sure About the Hair

You know I’ll do anything for a laugh. My kids might grow up all kinds of confused and lopsided because of this. Last night we made fun of Emma because she thought babies were born naked. I told her I was born with a full on dress and tights. I like messing up my kids, but all in good fun. Luckily she’s seen enough versions of TLC’s “Baby Story” to know I was dead wrong. Babies aren’t born with clothes on. They’re born bloody and purplish with some cord that attaches them to the big mama in the room. Then daddy cuts that cord and faints.

I do, however, know I pass on some good things to my kids. Today while I was teaching a kids’ yoga class at her school, my daughter announced that she had to fart but was too embarrassed to do it in front of everyone. What she wasn’t embarrassed about was telling everyone that she had to fart. Go figure. So, she  went to the corner of the gym and let it fly. A girl after my own heart. This farting business is either going to make her very popular or very weird. It worked well for me, but you have to know how to play it off.

Here’s where I got today’s laugh:

You know I only like this because you get to see some “A.”

Questions to the guys:

1. Do you really wipe your shirt under your arms like that before you get into the shower? A girl would never do that.
2. Would you consider the hair on that ass to be average, less than average or hairier than average? Just wondering.
3. Do I have enough time while tapering to watch youtube videos frame by frame?

Happy Tuesday!

Anything Can Happen

Do me a favor? Take the poll to the right –> sometimes the blog layout shows up differently than I see it, so I want to make sure I am optimizing your reading pleasure.

With only six days to go until the marathon, I’m in full taper mode. I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with Malaria and have several stress fractures in my left foot. Or at the very least I’ve got some parasite that will cause me to spontaneously crap and lose feeling in my legs come Sunday.

For sure, I’ve got butterflies.

When I tell non-running people I’m feeling some nerves about the race, they always say the same thing, “You’ll do fine. You can run that far, you’ve done it before.” What they don’t get is that the distance is not the issue. I could lace up my shoes and go out and run 26.2 miles right now if I wanted to. The issue is I have a way in which I want to run the race. I’ve got time goals. Friends, I have plans!!! Plans that I do not want thwarted by blisters, snow, crappy pants, the need to pee, cramps, or any other issues the running gods want to throw at me.

Having plans reminds me of talking to my OB in my last month of pregnancy. I told him how the birth was going to go. He stood there, smirking, shaking his head. He said something like, “That all sounds great. But be prepared to throw it out the window at any moment because anything can happen.” Isn’t there some saying about God laughing when we make plans?

The doc was spot on. I never anticipated soiling the delivery table numerous times or the epidural not taking or my son being sunny side up instead of face down (eggs anyone?), or all that blood or baby having to be suctioned out by some crazy vacuum like device causing him to look like a conehead from SNL in the 80s. But it all worked out anyway, and was one of the best days of my life. Sunny side up is 12 years old now, and the way it went on that October day years ago was perfect.

Here’s what I know: I’ve put in the time. I’ve done the work. I am strong. I am fit. I cannot control the weather. I cannot control my unpredictable bowels. I can, however, expect the best and remember the point of it all: I love to run, and if I lose sight of that, the big picture, I’ve got nothing.