While going through old half-written drafts of blog posts, I found this one that I last edited on Feb. 1, 2012. It was supposed to be the third installment of my “non-training” plan for running. Much has happened since then: I’ve run much faster times, I’ve run an ultra, and I’ve also taken most of the last 15 months off from running due to an angry IT band that made me shelve running in an attempt to rearrange my mental status. I have a lot more to say about that in the near future (spoiler: I failed at rearranging my mental status). But I wanted to throw this blog post out there first as a kind of a preamble to some future posts.
Ultimately, I think the reason I never finished the blog post is because I had summed it up in this earlier July 2011 post. I still think that post is good for non-professional runners/athletes to think about. If you’re married to a training plan and it’s either causing you stress or you aren’t seeing improvement, try something drastic. Try going outside the box, even if only to shake things up for a few months.
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First written Feb. 1, 2012
“That’s the only plan I’ve got – to not have a plan.” If director Baz Luhrmann (of Moulin Rouge fame) can say it, I can repeat it.
A year ago, I was finally back to running after a stress fracture that dashed many dreams and was the final straw that caused me to upend my life. I was so grateful to be able to run, but I was also careful to avoid overdoing it too soon. I was in uncharted territory, because there is no running plan for, “the flat-footed runner who gets a tibial stress fracture that lasts for four months.” I was on my own and had to go by feel.
And that’s exactly what I did. A year ago, I dared to restart my running plans by giving into Katie’s peer pressure and registering for a half-marathon in March. I didn’t plot out a full training plan, because I just didn’t know what my legs could do. Thus, “Layla’s Unconventional Training Plan” was born.
I wrote about it in March, after smashing my previous record at that race Katie talked me into, and then having a ball at another race two weeks later. Seriously, I smiled my way through 13.1 miles in Oakland. Yes, Oakland.
Having a blast on a run through Oakland.
People were supportive, since I was coming back from injury, but they were also skeptical. I didn’t mind, because I was secretly a bit skeptical, too. I knew this was the right method for me at that time, but I didn’t know if it would translate to better race times. It did keep working, though, and in July I wrote about it some more.
By then, my skepticism was gone. I still don’t think my friends were convinced, but they did see the ironclad proof in my race results. Then came the New York Marathon, where I did better than expected. And then there was last month’s Texas Marathon, where I broke 4 hours. The only training plan I had for those marathons was a note in my calendar two weeks before each race: “Run 20ish miles.”
As I’ve said before, this is NOT a method for a new runner or someone doing their first race. I would never, ever recommend such a thing, because it would likely lead to injury and under-training. You need to be able to run the distance, and do so without being hurt. If you don’t know how to do that, it means you need a training plan. (I recommended a few links for such plans.)
What I’m about to say is not medical advice. I’m not a doctor, I’m not a certified running coach, and my science classes in high school were appallingly bad. But I’m going to say it anyway: If you’ve battled frequent injuries, maybe you should try throwing your training plan out the window. Maybe you should just run when you can and when it doesn’t hurt. Get some exercise, but mix it up and do something else if running hurts. Hell, try a whole different sport. Embrace life. LIVE LIFE. If you truly love running, give it some time and it will eventually love you back. Go read the basic tenets of my unconventional training.
And then come back and tell me how what you thought of the experiment. If it was awful, I still want to hear.
I kind of like penguins. OK, I really like penguins. One indication is my shelf crammed full of stuffed penguins, all of which were given to me and the oldest of which is about 25 years old. Then there are the penguin salt and pepper shakers, and the penguin doormat that comes out at Christmas. When I was a kid, I wanted to hug an emperor penguin, and I may or may not still want to do that.
But, for some reason, I still haven’t seen the penguins at the nearby California Academy of Sciences. I don’t know why. (Note to self: Do that in 2012.)
Then I read an article about a biologist who works with the African penguins at the academy. And that’s how I learned that there is — wait for it — a live penguin camera! They add audio twice a day at feeding time!
Penguins! (Courtesy of Cal Academy of Sciences)
And, as if that’s not enough, they have a mobile app! Next time I’m sitting on the train for 45 minutes, you can guess what I’ll be doing.
If you’ve never been to Yosemite, go. If you have been to Yosemite, go back. In the meantime, go watch four minutes of time-lapse videos from the national park. It’s a way to see a bit of the beauty while you’re sitting at your computer on a Tuesday morning.
I’ve been to Yosemite three times, the last time in August 2010 when I hiked 19 miles round-trip and climbed Half Dome. That last 400-foot climb up up the sheer granite face of Half Dome was crazy, and the trip back down is still probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, including marathons. It was SO completely worth it. That’s the photo in my “About Me” section, though the cooler photos are of my feet hanging off the ledge at the top.
The house was built by one of the famous Vanderbilt heirs. Clark Gable, Audrey Hepburn, President Harry Truman and John Wayne were among the famous guests, and it was apparently quite the place in its day. When it went up for sale in 2000, the estate got a mention in the Wall Street Journal. The next year, it went back on the market and got some more publicity, including from the San Francisco Chronicle.
And that’s where the story takes another turn. The home was bought by this guy:
Yep, YouTube sensation “Double Dream Hands” guy bought a big house in my hometown. I’m not a big YouTube watcher, but I’d actually heard of and seen this unique piece of musical dance amusement. I’d even visited the guy’s website a while back, just to see if he was serious.
John Jacobson, the Double Dream Hands guy, was actually serious. He’s a musician who has been involved in a number of projects, including Disney productions. He apparently makes enough money to plunk down several million dollars on another home in the middle of nowhere.
People often don’t realize that there are a number of well-to-do quasi-celebrities who have a “main” residence (in this case, Los Angeles), but actually live elsewhere most of the time. Believe it or not, Northern California is a popular spot for such people. Among the hicks and the hippies, wealthy people live on forested mountains, finding a “normal” life away from the chaotic world. They don’t really stand out, because the area is so spread out. They don’t attract media attention, and the national paparazzi can’t be bothered to fly and then drive several hours to a remote location — especially since much of the area still doesn’t have high-speed Internet. It’s a nice place to get away and just live a normal life.
Well, until your house burns to the ground and a blogger decides to link to both the fire and your YouTube video. And to the one where you appeared on The Ellen Degeneres Show:
Today’s 11:11 time-waster is, in my opinion, not a time-waster — regardless of whether you’re a runner or your opinions on the causes of autism. It’s the story of a fundraiser that got shut down by someone who decided, “If I can’t do a much bigger version of what they’re doing, they can’t do it, either.”
The fundraiser was the day after Christmas. It’s named for Jack, a rather cute little 8-year-old boy. And the person who became the Grinch was none other than a lawyer. How’s that for a trifecta? (For the record, over the years I’ve actually entertained the idea of law school and I know a number of lawyers. Some of them are really great people, and some of them are the opposite.)
Here’s a blog post that sums up the whole matter. It was written almost two weeks ago, and I waited to see the comments. I’ve read them all, including the rebuttals from the Grinch. He didn’t help himself at all, so for his professional sake I hope he does better live in the courtroom.
Here’s the brief version: Sam is a husband and father who created Operation Jack, a non-profit whose proceeds go to autism awareness and research. We’ve chatted online, via text and email, and have met in person several times. A while back, Sam lost a whole bunch of weight and took up running, then discovered that he could run pretty quickly. Last year, he ran 61 marathons with the sole goal of raising money for Operation Jack. The last marathon was near his home and named the Operation Jack Marathon, and there were simultaneous satellite runs around the country.
This year the Operation Jack Marathon was held again, and there were satellite runs again. Basically, that means that groups of people got together across the country to run some miles. They ran in Jack’s honor and they donated some money. Some people ran solo. Some got a few friends together. In Houston, a few friends planned to run in a public park. Then word began spreading online, and suddenly 29 people were going to gather at that park in Houston on the morning after Christmas. (This is nothing compared to the 40+ people I used to run with in a town with a population of 60,000.)
Enter the Grinch. It turns out that some people in Houston have been trying to get city permission to hold a race in that park, but they’ve been turned down. When they heard that some other local residents were organizing a run in the park, they got mad. Days before the race, they complained to city officials. Those city officials then told the Operation Jack runners that, because city officials now knew about the event, they couldn’t run. Fortunately the Operation Jack runners found another location in another part of the city. But some runners couldn’t make it to the new location, and Sam refunded their donations — to the tune of $500.
The thing is, the Grinch missed a golden opportunity. Next time he tried to get a permit to hold an official race, he could have pointed to this little Operation Jack run as a success. Instead, he became the tattle-tale that no authority figure likes but must listen to. In other words, the next time this Grinch applies for a permit, city officials will think, “Yeah, this is the guy who shut down that little charity run at Christmas.”
I have run in, volunteered at, and helped organize a number of races of all distances and sizes. I know what goes on behind the scenes. Due to my former job, I also know what goes on behind the scenes in city offices. Let’s just say that I am a bit amused by the fact that this Grinch and his cohorts have been denied permits. There are always reasons.
I actually feel a little sorry for this Grinch. For one thing, he lost a golden opportunity. For another thing, he can’t research very well. And, to top it off, he spends his days defending drunken drivers. I’m a firm believer in “innocent until proven guilty,” but I also know that the only way to get out of a drunken driving conviction is on a technicality or if police messed up. In other words, almost every single one of the Grinch’s clients really was out driving drunkenly on the roads, and any one of them could have run over his loved ones — and he’s tasked with the job of defending them. No wonder he decided to direct his lawyer ways at a little group of 29 people who wanted to run on the day after Christmas. It’s how grinches operate.
The four-word summary of Sunday’s Texas Marathon: I broke four hours!
The one-sentence summary: At times it was a tough fight, but I pushed through and finished with a huge smile on my face and the realization that a years-old dream had come true.
The sad part: I ran in honor of my friend Jim, who had terminal cancer and entered hospice care in November. As I sat down to write this Wednesday evening, I realized I hadn’t looked looked at his facebook page since Monday, due to traveling. (He had stopped doing much typing/correspondence because he was weak and was instead spending time with family.) That’s when I learned that he died Tuesday morning. I started crying, went and got Kleenex, scrolled slowly past all the tributes already accumulating on his facebook page, then got more Kleenex. Now, as I type, I need more Kleenex. However, I’m going to write this race report. Jim found and befriended me because of my writing, which was truly one of the best compliments I’ve ever received. I wrote about him in November, and now I’m going to include him in this blog post, too. (If his friends and family are reading this and don’t want to sift through all the running stuff, you can skip down to mile 22, as well as the last two paragraphs.)
Background
The Texas Marathon is held every year on January 1, north of Houston. They limit it to 650 people for the half and full marathons, so it’s basically the opposite of the New York City Marathon. Like NYCM and the Santa Rosa half, this was another of my “redemption” races from the previous year, when I had to cancel a number of races due to a stress fracture. The race got rave reviews from several runners whose expertise I respect. And participants get a massive 3.5-pound medal.
My hand is stretched wide open, and I can barely hold this thing.
The catch with a New Year’s Day race is that you need to get to sleep at a decent hour and hydrate (with water, not alcohol) the previous day, also known as New Year’s Eve. But I’ve had a lot of holiday/birthday let-downs over the years, so I figured I had better odds of beating my marathon time on a flat, fast course. Plus, I could still celebrate the new year ON New Year’s Day.
I’d run New York eight weeks earlier, and it took me a little while to recover. My feet hurt pretty badly for a week after, and that led me to switch shoes. The new shoes caused blisters, so then I took a gamble by dropping to a slightly less supportive shoe. That worked. Three weeks before Texas, I suddenly got a crazy pain in the side of my knee. Thankfully that day I was hanging out with Kerry, a physcial therapy student, who diagnosed it as IT Band troubles and told me to roll my hip (yes, hip — not just the knee) on a foam roller. It hurt, but rolled religiously several times a day and got through a 21-miler two weeks before Texas.
A few weeks before the marathon, I unintentionally lost seven pounds in nine days. While I do want to lose weight and do think that would ultimately make me faster, I did NOT plan on doing so mere weeks before a marathon. But I had absolutely no appetite and could not eat. I did gain back three pounds when my life calmed down, before the race. (I have probably since gained back more weight due to delicious food I ate while in Texas.)
Pre-race
I ran four miles on Thursday, three miles of it on a packed dirt path around the Rice University campus in Texas. In California, I’d been running in the dark in temperatures ranging from 27 to 37, so shorts and a t-shirt in daylight were a nice change. On Friday, I stole an idea from Alyssa by running 2.62 miles. I always run the day before a race — usually about 3 miles, but I liked the idea of 2.62 before 26.2. That day, I stepped outside into what my weather app said was 100% humidity. It sucked. It did, however, slow me down so I wouldn’t run too fast the day before the marathon.
Dinner was pizza and a viewing of “Cowboys and Aliens” with the awesome HellaSound (yes, he makes music specifically for running) and his lovely wife. I got in bed around 10:30 p.m. and was wide awake. I lay there for a while and began to stress myself out. I’d gotten eight hours of sleep the previous night, which is very good, but that meant that now I wasn’t tired. My mind was on overdrive.
A year after my first marathon, I ran the 2009 Chicago Marathon in 4:08. That day, a dream began: I wanted a marathon time that began with 3. I’d be perfectly happy with 3:59:59, just so long as it was under 4 hours. Then I bombed in my third marathon in May 2010, posting my slowest time ever.
It took 13 months to run another marathon, due to a stress fracture, but in June 2011, I ran the Mayor’s Marathon in Alaska in 4:00:21. I’m still amazed, because my training shouldn’t have allowed that time. In November, I ran NYC in 4:02:24. I was happy with my time, since I’d taken a nasty fall two weeks earlier and it was a hilly course.
So, here I was on the eve of another marathon. I’d made my goal public, and everyone knew I wanted to break four hours. To add to matters, I’d decided to run this marathon for Jim. He’d fought the terminal cancer, trying to find treatments while also trying to go on some adventures before his life ended. I couldn’t cure his cancer, but I could run a good race in his honor. I’ve been proving my childhood doctors wrong by running, so this would be one more way of making running meaningful. As I lay there in bed, I knew that it would be OK if I didn’t reach my goal this time. But I also knew that Jim was dying, and this would be my only chance to break four hours while he was still alive. I picked up my phone and turned to Twitter, where I got supportive responses from amazing people.
Morning
Finally, just before midnight, I put the phone done and went to sleep. I awoke at 5:21, before the alarm. I made my standard pre-race peanut butter and banana sandwich. We stopped at Starbucks, where I got a small decaf coffee. Yes, decaf. Except for one half-caffeine latte on Wednesday morning, I’d cut out all caffeine for a week. This has been an ongoing experiment since August, and it seems to have helped with some heart rate/semi-blacking-out issues. However, Sunday would be the first race without a little regular coffee on race morning. I also wasn’t going to take any caffeinated gels during the race, though I’ve always relied on one final burst of caffeine in the last few miles.
We got to the race in Kingwood and parked in a residential neighborhood. Yep, it was a small race. We got our packets, which came with a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt and a cute little duffel bag, which will actually be the perfect size to hold running stuff when I drive somewhere to run with friends. There were no lines for the port-a-potties, and I was extremely relieved to note that the humidity was nowhere near the previous day’s 100%. It was a little windy, but I’d take that over humidity any time.
I found Kathy, who I’d happened to run into at the NYC expo.
Kathy, who recently reached her goal of running a marathon in all 50 states.
Kathy started introducing me to her Marathon Maniacs friends (qualifying for that club has been my other big running goal). I know some Maniacs members, and they’re always fun, nice people. Soon I was holding two cameras at once, helping take photos as 75 of them gathered for a group shot. And then there were race announcements, a girl was attempting to sing the National Anthem, and we were gathering at the start. A funny horn sounded, and we were off.
The race
Mile 1: 9:11
Mile 2: 8:48
Mile 3: 8:55
The first couple miles, I had trouble finding my pace. I knew I wanted to aim for around 9:00 to 9:05 miles. A 4-hour marathon is a 9:08 pace, so that would be right on target. The start was a bit congested, of course, but with only a few hundred marathoners, it wasn’t bad.
Mile 4: 9:04
Mile 5: 9:12 (gel)
The course is run entirely on a paved path that goes through tall trees, under a couple small overpasses, over a couple bridges, and past a lake. In other words, it’s pretty. The lake was lovely, but that area was more open and the wind was pretty strong.
Mile 6: 9:03
First 1/4 of the race: 58:28 (8:55 pace)
The race is a loop; half-marathoners run it twice and full-marathoners run it four times. This meant I would pass the start/finish area four times. That sounds awful, but friends had assured me that it was not. One advantage was that I would see the official clock time and would know that I was still on pace if I could finish each loop in 59:59. This is a good thing, because there was a little GPS interference, so my watch was slightly off. Thanks again to friends, I’d known this ahead of time.
Mile 7: 8:55
Mile 8: 8:51
Mile 9: 8:56
The half-marathoners started 15 minutes after the full-marathoners, so I’d wondered if it would be a traffic jam at times. Plus, the course isn’t just a loop — it actually has a turn-around with an out-and-back portion, so you’re passing runners and also seeing oncoming runners. Believe it or not, this actually wasn’t that big of a problem. A vast majority of the people were following proper etiquette of staying to the right except to pass. Plus, I loved seeing all the people. I saw HellaSound and his wife about six times each, so that was fun.
Mile 10: 8:56 (gel)
Mile 11: 9:17
I stopped to fill my bottle and went with the sports drink, because I know I need as many electrolytes as I can get in order to fight off calf cramps. They were serving PowerAde, which I find to be sickeningly sweet, but I went with it.
Mile 12: 9:10
Mile 13: 9:18
Second 1/4 of the race: 58:39 (8:57 pace), almost exactly the same time as the first loop.
The PowerAde was a bad choice. I have a very solid stomach, but as soon as I started sipping it, my stomach began to feel upset. This never happens to me. I thought it might be a coincidence, but it also tasted awful. So, at the aid station at the start/finish, I took the time to pour out the PowerAde and refill with water. No more electrolytes from sports drink for me, but the water tasted so much better. I also turned on my music at this point.
Things started to feel harder. My legs started to feel tired. I knew I’d hit the halfway point around 1:57:24, and I knew that was a bit too fast. I should have been about two minutes slower. I don’t believe that “banking time” is good, because if you run too hard and burn out too early, no amount of time will be enough.
Mile 18: 9:28 (gel)
Mile 19: 10:16
Third 1/4 of the race: 1:00:56 (9:18 pace)
I was crashing and burning. Everything was hurting. I stopped more than once, stretching out my legs and bending over because my lungs and chest felt tight. I grabbed a piece of banana at the start/finish aid station, knowing the potassium would help my muscles.
Mile 20: 10:32
Mile 21: 9:28
I didn’t want to head out for yet another loop on that never-ending course. I just wanted to stop. I could try to break four hours some other time. I had tried, but it just wasn’t my day. Then I realized that I was stopped on the side of the path while Metallica was playing in my ears. I’ve done some of my fastest runs to Metallica. Why wasn’t I running? I had no excuse. So mile 21 was at least back to a 9:XX pace. At the start of the last loop, I knew I was in a place where I would break four hours if I could just hold on and run 10-minute miles. That was a good position to be in, because normally 10-minute miles are too slow for me.
Mile 22: 10:22 (gel)
The determination had barely lasted through one mile. I was done. I couldn’t do this. Everything hurt. I thought of Jim and felt tears in my eyes because I was going to fail and I wouldn’t have another chance to break four hours before he died. I remembered NYC, where I’d focused on channeling Chrissie Wellington, who hadn’t given up despite very bad injuries two weeks before she conquered the Kona Ironman. I remembered Alaska, where I was 21 seconds over the four-hour mark.
Then I thought of Jim again. He’d fought to live as much as he could in the last few months until he’d had to enter hospice care. If he could fight, so could I. Then a phrase came into my mind: “Fight for it.” RoadBunner had given that mantra to Alyssa before Alyssa went out and conquered the California International Marathon. Fight for it.
Mile 23: 9:19
I was fighting for all I was worth. I told myself I would not stop again, no matter what. I was NOT going to miss the four-hour mark by seconds again. I was going to do this for Jim. I would fight for it.
Mile 24: 9:16
I passed Kathy one more time. “Go girl, go get that PR!” she shouted after me. Yes, that PR (personal record) was actually still in sight. I could do this. The last loop seemed to take forever, but I knew I just had to keep running. I felt slight threats of calf cramps, and I told myself they would NOT take me down. I would fight them off, too.
Mile 25: 8:55
“Whoa, she’s speeding up,” I heard a volunteer say. (The volunteers were fantastic, by the way.) Yes, I was speeding up. I was fighting for it. Dammit, I was going to break four hours. After all, I’d told Jim I was doing it for him.
Mile 25.9: 8:21 pace (the GPS on my watch was off; the course is certified to 26.2 miles)
Last 1/4 of the race: 1:00:53 (9:18 pace), also almost exactly the same time as the previous lap.
I crossed the finish line in sheer joy. I’d been watching the time on my watch and had seen it reach 3:58 near the finish line. I saw a 3 on the clock at the finish. I’d done it. I had broken through the 4-hour barrier.
I fought, and I won.
Official time: 3:58:55.
Aftermath
HellaSound was right there at the finish, congratulating me. One of the best things in the world is to have a friendly face at the end of a hard race. I was only catching half of what he was saying, but he was cheering for the fact that I’d broken four hours.
A volunteer gave me a little pink pig with the number 33 on it. I knew the pig was coming — it’s a unique Texas Marathon thing, where every year they have a signature animal and give out miniature versions. But the number was the icing on the cake. I am attempting to run three marathons in three months to qualify for Marathon Maniacs; my third race will be the weekend I turn 33; and 33 is a multiple of 11, the number that has always followed me. If I’d finished 19 seconds slower, that number 33 pig would have gone to the person who finished after me. This was the reward for that last gasp of an 8:20 pace.
The pig named 33.
Then they gave me a monster of a medal that came in its own box because it was too heavy to actual place around the neck of someone who just ran 26.2 miles. Then I wandered toward the food, knowing I needed something solid to clear my head. This was a bit of an adventure, because they had lots of boxes of cookies, but I had no idea which ones might contain walnuts. They won’t kill me or send me to an emergency room, but walnuts make my mouth BURN. So there I was, half-delirious, trying to read ingredients on boxes of cookies. I couldn’t do it. Someone said, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe they all have nuts in them.” Really? That’s ridiculous! I finally focused on a box of chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, didn’t see any mention of nuts, and took a bite. It was fine, though extremely dry. I managed three bites of dry cookie.
HellaSound had said something about where he and his wife were sitting, but for the life of me, I had no idea what he’d said. Finally things came back into normal mode and I saw them on a nearby bench. I walked over to them and learned that the pizza promised at the finish line was gone. So we took a couple pictures with the inflatable pigs and made the slow walk to the car. On the way, we passed more pizza being delivered, but by then none of us wanted to walk back and deal with a mob of hungry runners.
Winged pigs wearing Santa hats. Marathoner wearing a 3.5-pound medal and holding a small pig. Yes, that is a photo opportunity.
Final stats
Age group (women, 30-39): 4th out of 23 — top 17.4 percent
Gender: 9th out of 90 — top 10 percent
Overall: 34th out of 221 — top 15.4 percent
These stats say several things. First, this race was a fast course, but it attracts people who run a LOT and focus on distance more than time. In New York, I was only three minutes slower and had pretty good stats, but I was nowhere near cracking the top 10 percent in any category. Second, the stats are still proof that I’m in a tough age group. The women’s winner was in my age group, and she was second overall. Second place woman was also in my age group.
First half: 1:57:07
Second half: 2:01:49
As I said earlier, this isn’t the ideal way to run a race. It’s just too risky to go too fast and expect to bank enough time. But it worked on Sunday, and I had just over a minute to spare.
Thank you
It’s taken me two years and four attempts to break four hours in the marathon. (I’ve now run six marathons, but I hadn’t dreamed of sub-4 at first.) Thank you to my friends and family who have put up with my jabbering about running, who have consoled me when I’ve been injured, and who have encouraged me to keep going.
Thank you to Janine, who got me started down this crazy marathon road. Thank you to the Lodi Running Club members, who provided many hours of companionship on the roads, carpools to races, and coffee shop chatter. Thank you to the Bay Area runners who have welcomed me, accepted me, and given me some true friendships. Thank you to the Internet friends who send encouragement from afar and who often care more than my “real life” friends. Thank you to Katie, who called and texted me every single day last month when I felt like I was alone and drowning. Thank you to Deanne, who still stands by me after a decade of friendship. Thank you to Paulo, for the typos and book material. Thank you to Ron, for the support. Thank you to Alyssa.
And thank you to Jim. Thank you for taking a chance and contacting an Internet stranger. Thank you for reading my writing for years, which is one of the most sincere compliments anyone can give. Thank you for offering tips when I was job hunting. Thank you for cheery comments, even when cancer hurt you, and then when cancer hit you. Thank you for reminding me that life needs to be lived, and that it’s worth fighting for as long as possible. Thank you for being an inspiration. And — this may sound weird but I know you’d have understood — thank you for hanging on until after the marathon.
I wanted to break four hours for so long. I’ve finally done it, and I did so in honor of a friend, which means I’ll never forget him. I can only hope that someday I am worthy of being someone else’s unforgettable inspiration.
It’s common to make New Year’s resolutions. “I’m going to lose 30 pounds, get more sleep and drink less alcohol.” “I’m going to be nicer to my mom, get good grades and get a part-time job.” “I’m going to spend less time at the office, learn to make cheesecake and read 30 books.”
But the word “resolution” has always intimidated me. Saying that I “resolve” to do something means that I WILL do it. What if I try and fail? What if life gets in the way and I can’t get it done? I prefer to set goals. I try to work toward them, and if I can make some progress, then it means I’m on the right path. For instance, this year I set the goal of beating my previous times in as many running distances as possible. I did it in both the half-marathon and marathon, so I met part of that goal. I had the same goal last year, which I did in the half-marathon but not the marathon — partly because an injury ruined my plans and took me out for four months. I didn’t break a resolution in 2010; rather, I tried to reach a goal but didn’t quite get there.
It’s a small difference, but I guess a “goal” sounds more positive to me than a “resolution.” Considering how tumultuous my life has been lately, I’m desperately clinging to every positive bit I can find. So, here we go: my goals for 2012. They are few, and are unintentionally listed in order of difficulty, starting with the easiest.
1. Break four hours in the marathon. I’m actually hoping to do this on January 1 (as in, next Sunday?!), so it sure would be nice to meet that goal on the first day of 2012. If I don’t, I doubt I’ll have another chance until next fall.
2. Beat my half-marathon time. I’ve made, and reached, this goal each year since I ran my first half-marathon in 2008. However, now it’s getting harder because I’ve gotten faster. At some point I will stop getting faster, and I’ll have to change my goal. See why it’s a goal rather than a resolution?
3. Undisclosed goal. (Yes, you may die of curiosity now.)
4. The doozy: Start on one of two book ideas. This is the truly scary one, even though the undisclosed No. 3 is pretty freaking scary. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to write a book. I’ve made it my goal for years. Many of my friends know and encourage me to start writing already. It actually haunts me more than anything else in my life. It scares the heck out of me, because I don’t know what I’ll do if I fail. Back when I started running, I set a far-off goal to run one half-marathon. I never, ever thought that 2011 would find me on the brink of my sixth full marathon and five weeks away from my first ultra-marathon — and without a book to my name.
Saying “one of two book ideas” means that I’ve narrowed it down. I, the always indecisive one, have actually ruled out all other options. The fiction attempt from last year, which ended in 5,000 words, is gone. A couple admittedly easier ideas are also gone. When it comes down to it, there are two ideas that refuse to leave. One is perhaps slightly easier, because it would involve less outside research and interviewing, though it would still be far from “easy.” The other is the monster of an idea I’ve had for years, and which I keep shooting down — I know that others have written similar books, it would require interviewing and traveling to be done right (on what budget?), and it could fail in spectacular, horrific fashion that would devastate me.
I know I’m being vague. That’s how it goes in the area of unpublished, uncopyrighted ideas (though I’ve bounced ideas off a few people, and want to do more of it). That’s also how it goes when I’m a bit freaked out by the fact that I’m putting this goal in solid words — actually, in multiple paragraphs.
I’ve had a very rough couple of weeks, and it seems that every time I start to rebound, something happens again. Today was another day of ups and downs, and I almost deleted this whole nearly-finished post. But I’ve been clinging to every bit of hope and happiness that I can find, and somewhere in today’s waves of chaos and calm, I decided that this post would be a good thing. Maybe these few goals will give me something to hold onto until the storm waves subside.
What a weekend! I did a bunch of running, saw a ton of friends, and volunteered at the 29th annual California International Marathon (referred to by many as CIM). So, here are some older-iPhone-crappy-quality photos, along with some hastily written words that wound up being longer than an actual marathon. I’m not sure how that happened, but you might want to go get some caffeine if you plan to actually read all of this.
Saturday morning found me lacing up some almost-new shoes, which are the latest in a string of experiments since the New York Marathon. So, hey, why not go run 16 miles in hardly used shoes, along with socks that should be OK but you haven’t tested for more than a few miles?
Black shoes don't like right with white socks, so this was a good solution: piano key socks!
I set out on a new route, which offered these kinds of views:
Yep, it’s rough to live in California’s Bay Area in December. Did I mention that it was 51 degrees, which is fantastic running weather?
However, it was windy. We’d been having gale-force winds that were supposed to die down, but that hadn’t happened. It made breathing a bit hard, but I felt fine. Then I turned after six miles. Then I turned again. The second half of that 16-mile run was directly into the wind. It was so hard, and my shoulders started hurting because I was unknowingly hunching over as I battled the wind. But I made it home with a good overall average pace (perhaps a bit too fast), then proceeded to dash around trying to get ready to leave.
Michelle arrived, and we headed off to Sacramento for the marathon expo. I wasn’t running, but I never mind wandering around a place filled with runners and running gear. And that’s where the “Layla keeps seeing familiar faces” phenomenon began. First I bumped into Kris and Janice, two buddies from my old Lodi running club. Then I happened to glance at Twitter and see that Todd (San Francisco Twitter running buddy) was at the expo. We met up just as I was talking to the race director of the Santa Rosa Marathon. Then along came Michaela and Cynthia, so it was like a mini party there at the expo.
I failed to get more photos at the expo, but that's Cynthia, who was making her marathon debut, and Michaela on the right.
Then Michelle and I headed off to Courtney‘s parents’ house east of Sacramento. Not only were they fun and cool, but they’d graciously offered to host as many people as would fit in their lovely home. Courtney and Alyssa had gotten partially made pizzas, then added lots of toppings. We chowed down on delicious pizza, garlic bread, salad and fudgesicles.
Alyssa and I also had beer. Carbs!
It was a nice evening of chatting with Courtney, Alyssa, Michelle, Angela and Don, Sesa and Karin.
Alyssa painting her nails over the back of a race bib. Beside her is The Stick, an excellent muscle-massager.
5:15 a.m. arrived, and the wind had stopped! I drove Courtney, Alyssa, Angela and Michelle to the start line a few miles away, then went to find myself an extra hot venti soy misto on my way to the start line, 26.2 miles back to Sacramento.
I arrived at the start line, checked in, put on my volunteer shirt and set to work getting medals ready for distribution. They normally hang on big racks, but someone forgot the bases of the racks. We improvised by layering them in groups between cardboard.
This thoroughly amused the older people volunteers.
The winner arrived at 9:12 a.m.
Men's winner is in there somewhere.The second-place finisher, from Bend, Oregon, was quite animated.
Twenty minutes later, along came the first woman.
Women's winner (in turquoise).
I was on the women’s finishing side, and when the clock time neared 2:45, everything got electric. To run the Olympic Trials, women must run a 2:46 or faster. The Trials are in January and the last day to qualify was eight days after this marathon, so it was one last chance for women who have been working so hard to run a 6:20-per-mile pace for 26.2 miles. If they missed it by one second, they would have no shot for another four years.
Suddenly I was surrounded by ecstatic, crying women. I was putting medals on sobbing women who had just seen years of effort pay off. To my right, just on the outside of the fence, I heard a man crying and shouting. I looked over to see a man in San Francisco Giants clothing, jumping for joy as his wife made her way to him. “You did it, babe, you did it!” he kept shouting as he cried just as hard as she did. He was trying to take their picture, so I offered to do it for them. Even I was misty-eyed by the whole thing.
She's going to the Olympic Trials, and he's just as excited.
Meanwhile, Jana, Karin and Beth were spectating along the course and I’d asked Jana to text me when she saw Katie. I got an update at mile 20, so I knew about when to expect her. This was the second year in a row that I was going to be at the finish line when Katie crossed, and the other volunteers all knew to steer clear whenever she arrived. Then I saw her come around the corner in the distance. I think I was shouting her name (though I’m not sure), and I could see that she was hurting.
Katie reached the finish line and collapsed. I have no idea what I said or did, but I remember that it was all I could do to stand back while the medics helped her up — I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her finish time or health. They got her moving forward and I grabbed her in a big hug, not letting go except to take one side of her while a medic took the other side and we kept her walking. She was asking for water, so I finally let go in order to run ahead and grab a bottle of water. I soon found out that she’d been on pace for a 2:55 marathon until a brief port-a-potty stop at mile 8, which caused her hamstring to suddenly seize up. She kept on a sub-3-hour pace through several more miles of pain. The entire rest of the marathon hurt, but she still pulled off a 3:10. I am still in awe.
Anyway, I got Katie’s dry clothes from her husband and she went straight to the medical tent, where we were not allowed to enter. So I headed back to my volunteer duties. In the meantime, a guy had proposed to his girlfriend at the finish line — us volunteers had been told that it was coming. She apparently said yes, because they were both looking pretty happy in the finishers’ area.
Suddenly I heard a male voice, and there was Todd (from the expo the previous day). His goal had been somewhere between 3:14 and 3:20, but he didn’t quite do that. Nope, he ran a 3:08. He was pretty excited, and rightly so!
In the meantime, I’d gotten a bummer of a text from Naomi, who I knew would set a huge new personal record because she’s had great training. (She also finally realized that she’s stronger and faster than she thought.) Something went wrong around the halfway point, and at mile 18 she was walking, trying to rally and fight the pain in her knee and foot. At mile 19.5 she was done, and medical personnel told her so. I was sooo sad for her, because I knew how badly she wanted to finish and what she was capable of. Sometimes running saves us from ourselves, and sometimes it leaves us crying on the side of the road. The former is why we keep running.
Soon it was time to look for Alyssa. I saw her round that corner in the distance and said, “There she is!” One of the young volunteers said, “Stand back, we have a claimer.” Apparently I was not shy in making sure I got to my friends. Alyssa crossed the finish line in an amazing 3:35, taking nine minutes off her previous best time. I wrapped her up in a big hug and walked her through the finishing area, also leaving her long enough to run ahead for water. (They should not have water so far from the finish line!)
Alyssa!
We tried checking on Katie, but she was still in the medical tent. But in the process, I ran into Sam, who had paced a friend to the finish. If you want an example of a genuinely good guy, he’s one of them. One of these days, I’ll figure out how to do more to help his organization, Operation Jack.
Somewhere in there, I heard another male voice, and there was my old college buddy/co-worker James. We’re friends on facebook but haven’t seen each other in person for almost 10 years. He took up running a year or two and asked me a bunch of questions about shoes, etc. He has stuck to it, and on Sunday he whooped his previous time by a landslide. He was so thrilled, he was almost incoherent with excitement. I gave him a hug and then he asked for another. Runners are so funny when we are high on endorphins!
Back at my medal duties, I saw more amazing people finish, and then suddenly there was Courtney crossing the line — I barely had time to realize it was her, she was so fast. She’d only decided to run the race three weeks earlier, just switched shoes, and hadn’t trained much. But she beat her time by a bundle, and I predict a sub-4 at her next marathon. Cue more hugging.
Around this time, a male finisher and a security guard started exchanging words because the guard was telling him to walk a different way. Another guard came over, the runner started walking way, and I congratulated him on finishing his marathon. As a runner who spent a decade working with cops and security folks, this was right down my alley. Once the runner left, the guard was obviously still uptight, which is not a good situation. So I explained to him that, though the runner had just run more than 26 miles, he was probably mad at himself for not finishing faster, and he was taking out his frustration. I told him that most marathon finishers are grateful to have someone tell them where to walk, but this guy was just upset. To my surprise, the guard thanked me for talking to him and explaining it, since he’d never run a marathon. (This is one reason I volunteer: I understand how those finishers feel and what they need.)
My next priority was Janine, who helped me train for what I thought would be my only half-marathon back in spring 2008. Then I found myself letting her talk me into running a 20-miler, and then I was signing up for a full marathon that same day. On the first weekend of December 2008, she was at the Tucson Marathon finish line to hug me. I wore that race shirt on my 16-miler this weekend, thinking about how this time I would be hugging her at the finish.
It was Janine’s first marathon after knee surgery, so she wasn’t sure how slow she’d be, but in no time she was crossing the finish line with Erin, another of my running buddies from Lodi. I was so thrilled!
Janine, the inspiration of all inspirations.
I walked with them a bit, and before I knew it we were in a mini Lodi Running Club reunion. I don’t see them very often since I moved, but it’s always so great when I do get the chance. A bunch of them had done the relay, so many hugs were exchanged. “I’m still mad at you for cutting off all your hair,” one of the Steves said before hugging me. Oops. Another one, Carl, found us after finishing his 23rd CIM and we all watched his calf muscles do their creepy twitching.
I went back to my volunteering duties. “Hey, someone’s calling your name,” one of the young volunteers told me. (Yes, they’d started to think I knew everyone.) I looked around and there was an ex of mine on the other side of the fence; he happened to be in the area and figured he’d go see a friend finish. Small world.
It wasn’t long before Michelle finished. She also beat her previous time, despite having a crazy schedule that keeps her from training very much. Yep, more hugs.
I had unfortunately missed Angela, who conquered her first marathon and battled asthma to an incredible finish. Caitlin whizzed past me in 3:05 (I’ll meet her in person soon). Sesa finished her first marathon and snuck past me. I also missed Cindy and Leslie from Lodi, who recently finished a 50K together.
But I think I saw everyone else I’d been looking for, plus others I hadn’t even known were running. And then, as Michelle and I headed to meet up with Angela, I ran into a girl from my itty-bitty hometown. She added me on facebook a while ago, so I had seen her picture and knew she ran Boston, but that was about it. Out of nowhere, in the sea of humanity near the food area, there she was, saying hi. She’s younger than me, so I figured out that I hadn’t seen her since she was about 8 and I was 12. Welcome to my world.
Anyway, we made our way to Tower Cafe, where I had the most amazing French toast ever. We also attempted to take photos, but the results were comical because we didn’t know which camera to look at:
Katie's signature pointing finger.
And that was CIM. I drove something like 300 miles, and it was fantastic. It was my third year there — last year I volunteered by giving out mylar heat sheets at the finish line, and the previous year I spectated and crewed for friends running it.
This year, there was one difference: I came home saying that I want to run it next year. I don’t usually say that when I am helping at a race. I love watching and volunteering at triathlons, but I don’t leave with a desire to become a triathlete. I love watching and pacing at the American River 50-Miler, but I don’t want to run the whole thing. The same thing applies to a few marathons where I’ve spectated, including CIM.
But now I want to race CIM. I’ve lived for 10 months in an area with hills, so I no longer fear the first half of CIM with its rolling hills. I want to cruise up them and fly down them. I want to run down Fair Oaks Boulevard, which I drove thousands of times in college. I want to see the finish line from the other side. Next year is the 30th anniversary of the California International Marathon, so maybe that’s a sign that I should aim for it.
Oh, but first I have some other business to take care of: I have another marathon in 25 days, and on Tuesday I registered for my first (and last) ultra-marathon.
It’s December, which means you’re probably trying to come up with gifts to give people so that you hopefully avoid the game of “everyone give each other a gift card.”
Well, nothing says “Happy Holidays!” like these:
Yes, that’s right; they’re gummy bear earbuds. To make matters better or worse, they’re scented. I can’t decide whether apple, raspberry or blueberry would smell more revolting while I was out on a 20-mile run.
But that’s not the only gummy bear treat on that website (which is chock full of awesome stuff)! For $12, you can get a half-pound gummy bear on a stick. If you’re opposed to all things gummy bear, maybe you’d prefer bacon-flavored candy canes? Or an inflatable fruitcake?
So, there’s a way to waste time at 11:11 a.m. on a Tuesday — doing some Christmas shopping.
I’m working on a photo-filled post about this weekend, and I’m about to register for an ultra-marathon. In other words, life around here is pretty normal.
Thanksgiving weekend was a ton of fun, because I had company. It’s rare that family visits, and all but one of my immediate family members live out of state, so you can imagine my joy at having not one but TWO of them come to town. Activities ranged from seeing the Golden Gate Bridge in perfect light to going to a Raiders game — and rooting for the Bears. Despite the sincere worries of many friends, I made it out of Oakland alive despite cheering against the hardcore Raider Nation.
Anyway, moving on to the weekly 11:11 a.m. time-waster. We’re barrelling along toward Christmas, so if you get really creative, here’s a site where you can possibly draw your own pointsettia. I say “possibly” because you might need to try a few times. If you’re like me and don’t really have any artistic skills, you can still create very cool kaleidoscope-like flowers. Try loading some of the pre-set flowers to get ideas, then clear the canvas and experiment. It’s much more addictive than I would imagine.
