Richmond Race Reflections

I have a confession: I haven’t run since the Marathon.  In my defense, I thought for sure I had seriously injured my knee.  However, after days of comfrey salve, ice packs, IB Profin, and elf shoes (i.e. Dansko clogs) I was able to rock my heels to school today (okay, they were wedges, but close enough).  It was a minor victory-and this close to Thanksgiving something I added to my “give thanks” checklist.  Anyway, haven’t run.  I was all packed and ready to go back to the gym today, but one of my dearest friends extended the offer to meet her and her adorable kids at the playground after school, and well, who can resist kids who have their own song for me??  That’s right, those kids have a “Miss Jackson” song.  Okay, its very likely plagiarized from the somewhat well-known group, Outkast, but who’s counting?!  So, didn’t make it to the gym. 

This time off has given me plenty of time to think, reflect, and process what I learned over 26.2 miles and way too many hours through downtown Richmond. 

1-I could not plan for just how hard that race was going to be.  I am a bit of a control freak.  I like to plan ahead and anticipate everything that may (or may not) happen.  I prefer to be pro-active rather than reactive.  Kristin and I went in with a plan.  We were going to run for 4-6 miles, walk at the next water stop for 2ish minutes and run for another 4-6 miles, “rinse and repeat.”  That plan held for approximately the first 13 miles.  I don’t remember much after that.  But, I do know that I didn’t stick to that plan.  The nerve of those marathon event planners to pick a course that contained hills, and boring neighborhoods.  Oh, and I do remember needing some kind of nourishment and being offered gummy bears and chocolate chip cookies.  Yea, didn’t plan for that either-all I wanted was a banana.  I did manage to locate an apple, which I ran with for a bit until I took a bite and nearly choked on the peel.  As my “plan” fell apart the Lord reminded me that “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.” (Proverbs 16:9).  I had planned my course, I was going to take 2 gummies every 4-6 miles, walk as I refueled, start out so slow that it felt uncomfortable so I could finish strong.  I had planned my course.  The only thing that allowed me to finish that race was the Lord establishing my step after step after step. 

2-I have a little guy in my class this year.  I have had the privilege of being a part of his life for a few years now.  I taught his sister a few years back and his mom is one of my dearest friends (and running buddies-well running encouragers, she is a rockstar runner and I can never keep up.  For the record, she ran Richmond last year.)    Anyway, I know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites, but William has a special place in my heart.  He has been battling Type I Diabetes for the last 5 years.  I watch that boy stick his finger multiple times a day, turn down birthday treats because he is too high, or eat peanut butter crackers or multiple liquid yogurts because he is too low.  I watch him struggle to pay attention because his blood sugar is elevated or it is dropping.  I watch him sit out at recess or P.E. because he is too low to participate, or walk laps in the halls because he is too high and his numbers won’t come down.  There are some nights that I baby-sit and I have to wake him up every few hours to prick his finger to check him-again.  What must it feel like to never get a full night’s sleep?  William never complains.  And I mean that. I have never heard him utter one complaint about his condition or its effects.  When my knee began to hurt, or my calf was severely cramping, or my baby toenail was hurting (sidenote: I just lost that toenail! Gross?  Nah, proud battle wound;)  I complained and groaned and moaned.  Poor Kristin-I am afraid I didn’t make the most positive or optimistic running partner.  Anyway, I realized that my sweet William had internalized the Scripture we memorized at the beginning of the year: Philippians 2:14 “Do everything without complaining or arguing.”  He is a superhero and I am daily challenged by his perspective and attitude.  It is a humbling experience when the Lord reveals that I am doing the learning from my students instead of vice versa.

3-Whenever I was training for the marathon and ran alone I always had my trusty IPOD.  I can’t run (alone) without music.  Without fail, whenever I came to the most trying part of the run my IPOD would break into “His Eye is on the Sparrow.”  I know, not one of the most get up and go songs, but remember, my goal of the marathon was SLOW and steady-that song seemed appropriately placed on my running mix for that purpose.  And, it was always so uplifting and encouraging for me to be reminded that “I know He carries me.” (I could have used that carrying around mile 16 by the way.)  Anyway, around mile 20 I think, I ran across a dead sparrow on the course.  This is not a joke, exaggeration, or lie.  I am not sure what I was supposed to learn from that bird.  I considered the fact that God’s eye was on the sparrow, but it was dead.  I tried to determine if that was a bad omen and perhaps I should have ceased the running immediately.  But, I only had one mile to go until I reached my Tim Tebow sign at mile 21-I wasn’t about to quit before that.  At least if I died, I died happy;)

4-In the end, the reward was so worth the pain.  And trust me, there was a LOT of pain.  I have never done anything more physically challenging in my life.  However, the sense of accomplishment I have, the excitement in actually finishing, the sweet medal, they all made it worth it!  Someone pretty wise told me the evening before I ran that there would be a finish line…the race would not last forever.  There were several moments during the race that I wasn’t sure if the end would EVER come, and yet I pushed on, in faith that the finish line actually did exist-after all, others had already made it there, right?  And that was my biggest take away from the race…I think there are times in life that I look around and go, “I could have NEVER anticipated life could be THIS hard.”  I have been blessed to live a relatively “pain free” life.  But, currently I am watching some of my dearest friends go through unthinkable trials.  One of them simply texted me the other day, “This is so hard.”  I bet, in the middle of those trials, it feels like there is no end in sight.  And yet, not only is there an end, there is a reward for finishing.  I have fallen in love with Romans 8 this past week.  (The first part of the chapter I am sure will surface in a later blog.)   However for now, look at Romans 8:18 “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”  And verses 37-39, “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Regardless of the trials we suffer, the pain we feel, the betrayal, the failures, the loss, the (you fill-in-the-blank), NOTHING can separate us from the love of Christ.  And if you look ahead to the book of Hebrews you will find an entire chapter (11) dedicated to those who have not only run the race, but have also crossed the finish line.  You see, the finish line really DOES exist.  Even if it’s hard to believe at mile 24 when the pregnant lady is urging you on and the tears are starting to fall.  Or if its at age 40 when your future is looking nothing like you imagined it would have 10 years ago-there IS an end to these trials (that’s why they are called temporary)-there IS a finish line, even if you can’t see it from where you are- and when you cross it and look back, I guarantee you the reward will be so worth the pain! 

Suntrust Richmond Marathon: Check

Friday morning I went shopping.  Perhaps I shouldn't admit this, but it's what I do when I am nervous, worried, anxious, etc.  Don't worry, I didn't buy anything.  That would constitute a serious problem.  But, it helped take my mind off of the task at hand.  That small task of running 26.2 miles the following day.  Eh, nothing serious, just a little stroll through Richmond, right?!

My friend Ashley's family lives in Richmond.  They were gracious enough to host my running buddy, Kristin, and myself this weekend.  Ashley even chauffeured me to and from Richmond and all over the city.  We departed our city around noon and ended up in Richmond a few hours later.  We went immediately to the race expo at the Arthur Ashe Center.  I found my race number, picked up my bib, and activated my chip.  All timing is done electronically and there is a strip on the back of the race bibs that are activated by running over these speed bumps.  I am a bit OCD and I walked over that speed bump several times just to make sure my name was showing up on the computer.  Can you imagine running 26.2 miles and there never being a public record that you completed it?  Yea, me neither.  Don't worry, my name showed up every time.  I proceeded through the cattle call to the next "stall."  I was on a mission-I wanted to pick up my t-shirt and goodie bag.  For those of you who don't run races you really should.  You get the best t-shirts and goodie bags full of helpful things like travel band-aids and water bottles and antibacterial hand gel.  It's like Christmas.  And you don't even have to RUN the race to get all of that stuff!  Well, these Suntrust Marathon people were clever.  The inside of the convention center was like a mass flea market full of running gear and it was impossible to get my t-shirt without passing said gear: re-fuel belts, NOT to be confused with fanny packs, shoes that promised to be 40% off, $1 running socks and gloves and hats, and my personal favorite-everything you could possibly imagine stamped with 26.2.  I tried to be strong, but remember I shop when I am nervous and well I didn't buy anything Friday morning, so I confess, I purchased a "few" items that declared the mileage I planned on completing the following day.  Among the items:

• a car magnet and sticker--I figured the magnet may fall off, and the sticker may fade, but between the two of them my car would always declare my accomplishment.
•  a travel coffee mug--Truthfully, I need a new travel coffee mug like I need a hole in the head, but I can carry that thing with me everywhere-full or empty-I don't care.  I just care that when I put on the lid I position it carefully enough so that the part of the mug that says 26.2 faces out for everyone else to see.
• a Christmas ornament--Well, because they didn't make wall hangings or blankets or anything I could sit around my house for anyone who comes over to see. I figure if it isn't Christmas time I will just make sure my coffee mug is in plain sight whenever I have company.

After my (impulsive) purchases I signed the "I Run Richmond" sign.  My message was simple...26.2 and DONE!  In other words, you Mr. Marathon Training, will no longer control my life! 

I finally found the place to pick up my t-shirt and goodie bag.  The race shirt was great, but the goodie bag would have been sorely disappointing if it hadn't included another 26.2 sticker.  (I am still trying to decide where to put that one.)  They did include a course map and Ashley agreed to drive me through it.

It was about mile 11 when I realized we had been driving for a REALLY long time and we weren't even half way through the race course.  I still don't know what the right choice was-run it blind and not have any idea what was coming, or feel somewhat "prepared" by seeing the course, and by course I mean the hills, before I ran.  Regardless, as we continued to drive I became more and more nauseous.  I sent out a text to a friend or two simply declaring, "I may puke."  After the course Ashley and I made our way to Kroger to pick up a few last minute items (pre-race carboyhdrates, Advil, etc.).  Upon entering Kroger I immediately made my way to the restroom and proceeded to undo all of the helpful hydrating I had done throughout the day.  In the midst of losing my lunch a nice male Kroger employee chose to do a "restroom check."  I tried to tell him someone was in there, but I think he figured it out the hard way.  Believe it or not, I felt better after that minor incident, did my shopping, and headed back to Ashley's for a quiet evening of pasta, ESPN, and poster making.  I received some much-needed encouragement Friday evening from some great friends via phone calls and texts and got a decent night's sleep. 

Saturday morning I was nervous, excited, anxious, terrified, giddy, and my stomach felt like Bella's must have when hers and Edward's vampire baby tried to eat its way out of her womb. (Twilight reference in honor of the release of "Breaking Dawn.") I knew I had a few friends waiting at specific mile markers, and I knew Ashley was making a fabulous poster that would await me at mile 21.  I had my Goodwill "throw-away clothes" (don't worry I washed them in hot water and added some bleach) so that as the weather warmed and I got too hot I could shed layers without having to worry about retrieving those clothes later.  My gels and gummies were packed, my water bottle was filled (half water, half Powerade), my race number was pinned to my shirt...I was ready to go. 

As we approached the start line the weather was beautiful, blue skies, crisp air, sunshine.  When I say crisp I mean freezing-as in below 32*.  People were all standing around, huddled in groups, attempting to stay warm.  I noticed an alarming trend-people were wearing garbage bags.  Apparently I missed the memo that black plastic garbage bags with a hole cut in the bottom and then draped over your head like a trendy poncho keep out the cold air.  Kristin and I found the man changing the trash bags in the city trash cans, but his bags were clear, and because I was a marathon newbie, I wasn't sure if the clear trash bags served the same purpose.  So, I refrained from asking him for a bag and chose to keep moving to stay warm.  Next time I will remember to pack a black trash bag.  (Haha, as if there might be a next time!)

We found our Corral (4) as in the slow pokes and waited for the rest of the pack to start.  I should have known this was not going to go as I had planned when the pack was running long before the start line.  By long before I mean about 100 yards, but come on, when you have 26.2 miles to go that extra 100 yards is significant!  We were off and we were freezing.  But, it was only about 2 miles in that I shed the black Goodwill fleece.  We made a friend at the beginning of the race.  I don't remember her name, I just remember she had 3 children and had run the Baltimore marathon a few weekends before.  Good for her!  For the first 13.1 miles Kristin and I had a blast.  It was like paparazzi with all of the cameras, we smiled and waved to each of them and even did a little dance when we ran by the bands, singing along with the music and smiling-yes, smiling. 



Mile 4

I can't wait to see the professional photographs from the race.  The first half I will look like a crazy person, the second half-I will look like the dead walking/running.  It wasn't a wall I hit, I don't know what happened, I just know that about half way through I was no longer having fun.  I was less than impressed with the course, less than impressed with the bands (Apparently they stopped playing after 13.1-or we had a sign on our shirts that said take a break when we run by...towards the end I believe I may have even questioned one band if "anyone around here actually PLAYS music??"), less than impressed by the water stops-really only one flavor of Powerade-my tongue will be blue for days from stinkin' blue mountain berry, I was just less than impressed and I was DONE.  Problem was we had half way to go.  I got sick at 13.1 and by 15.5 my knee was no longer functioning.  Apparently it had been hurting me for awhile (although, everything hurt so badly it wasn't as if the knee stood out) and I had altered my running form.  Therefore, not only was my knee hurting, my calf began to charlie horse with each step.  At mile 19 there was a wonderful surprise...my friend Amy and her little beauty, Katie.  I considered asking Amy if I could borrow Katie's baby stroller and trust me I would have figured out how to ride that thing to the finish line.  There was a hill right past 19 so I hugged Katie, got a picture with Kristin, and on we went.  I should point out, I have no recollection of how I got from mile 15.5 to 19.  At mile 21 Ashley met me with her sign.  For those who don't know, my favorite football player is Tim Tebow (and for those who do know you are all chuckling and rolling your eyes as to what an understatement THAT is).  Anyway, Timmy was waiting for me at Mile 21.  Well, at least a photograph of Timmy with some encouraging words. 

"Tebow says 5 Mo' to Go"

That (and the banana she brought me) spurred me on for a bit, and by bit I mean approximately a quarter of a mile more.  Again, I don't remember 22-24, but I do know at about 24 I told Kristin to go on.  My calf was in knots, my mental condition was rapidly deteriorating, and I knew she could have gone for miles more (she is a rockstar and I am so proud of her:).  About that time a pregnant lady who had been near us the entire race leaned over to "encourage" me by telling me if she could finish this thing then so could I.  I am certain she meant well, but it DID NOT encourage me.  It ticked me off.  I would like to think it was the low blood sugar irritability talking, but I am just not sure-after all I had recently eaten a banana. 

Kristin left at a litle over 24.  I remember passing "Wonderland" with her.  And about that time some man said we had 1.5 miles to go.  But he was a liar and so were the "Wonderland" signs (which we assumed meant we were in the "1.whatever" miles to go) because we still had 2.5 left.  At least if my calculations were correct, and come to think of it, they very well may not have been since its becoming more and more obvious my brain was oxygen depleted.  Anyway, the tears started with about a mile and a half to go.  I never considered NOT finishing.  Seriously, that thought never crossed my mind.  But, I did consider that I may NEVER reach the finish line because with every step it felt further and further away.  And, with each step my knee was growing in size.  With approximately 300 yards left I spotted the pregnant lady again-ahead of me-and the last bit of competitive nature I had remaining kicked in.  I took off-well, it felt like I did.  To those spectators looking on it may have appeared as a slow jog, but in my mind I was running with everything I had left so that darn encouraging pregnant lady DID NOT beat me.  (And she didn't I might add;) 

However, the man who jump-roped the entire 26.2 miles, the man who juggled 3 balls the entire 26.2 miles, and the man who juggled 5 balls the entire 26.2 miles-yea, they all beat me.  I crossed the finish line in hysterics.  Seriously sobbing like a child, shoulders heaving, nose running.  I heard my sister and other friends who were so sweet to come support and cheer for me urging me on.  My friend and running buddy, Johnna, met me at the finish line and I collapsed into her arms. 

Johnna and me at the finish line (look closely and you'll see my tear-stained face...)

She thought these were tears of relief and extreme emotion until I "politely" informed her that "These were not tears of joy...these were tears of get me to the freaking medic tent."  Which she did-pronto. 

Looks like I am doing better than the person on the ground beside me.  At least I made it to a cot!

In the midst of the tears I told everyone that was "AWFUL" and I will "NEVER" do another one "EVER AGAIN." Apparently some people are deliriously happy from runner's high when they finish.  I was just horribly mad and had stopped having fun hours ago.  Which, in all actuality, wasn't true.  And, even in the 2 short days I have had to think on it, my feelings have changed a bit.  I am still processing exactly what it is that I did on Saturday.  It hits a little more moment by moment, especially those moments where I have to get up from my couch or climb my stairs:)  Give me a bit longer to gather my thoughts (and I'll give you a few days to recover from that long post) and I will share the incredible things I learned from running for an ungodly amount of time.  For now, I am going to take 4 more Advil and get my ice packs from the freezer. 

My sis, Jessica, me, and my medal

Monopoly

Last year at this time I was in the 757 with my friend, Miranda.  She had recently moved back home to VA Beach from Lynchburg (against my better wishes, mind you).  We met at a Bible study where she would always sneak out fifteen minutes before the study was over in order to attend a Zumba class at our local YMCA.  Miranda and I became fast friends, bonding over our mutual love of reality television (Toddlers and Tiaras, anyone??).  She all but begged me to join her Zumba class.  You should know, my father is a Southern Baptist preacher.  By default, my hips do not move that way.  You know that age old expression, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?"  Well, it could just as easily read, “You can’t teach this Southern Baptist girl to Zumba.”   (I will, however, admit-it sure was fun trying!)  Mir is a high energy girl and after one particular Zumba class she was still wired.  I suggested a quick and easy 2 mile jog to burn off some of that excess caffeine (after all, our Bible study served unlimited coffee).  She thought she hated running (so did I).  She was wrong (so was I).   I was stoked to have a new running buddy and we agreed to run the Blue Moon Wicked 10k together.  The race would combine two of Miranda’s favorite things: dressing up and running.  I was in it for the beach part-a great place to recover-and most beach towns are nice and flat since they are at sea level (read, easier to run).   I spent weeks contemplating what costume I would wear.  I scoured the internet for ideas.  There were some great costumes.  But, I had run a few races and thus, I cared much less about the costume contest then ensuring that the 6.2 miles we were running would be as comfortable as possible.  I decided to be Pippi Longstocking.  It was easy to put together-I visited the Goodwill for some mismatched clothing and tall socks, and ordered a red, braided wig from the internet.  Miranda, however, thrives on creativity, particularly when it comes to dressing up. (Don’t believe me?  Follow her blog where one of her latest posts reviews all of her past costumes.)  So, she decided to be cotton candy.  After school on Friday I hopped in my car, made the 3ish hour trip to VA Beach (I should say four hour trip since I am sure my mother is reading this blog and is less than thrilled that I made it in so short of a time.  Don’t worry, Mom, I was not the "lead car" and my seat belt was buckled the whole time.)  Anyway, Miranda and I had a late night.  We visited Wal-Mart where Miranda bought pink polka-dotted leggings and a pink fleece in the girls department, and when I say girls I mean young children’s department…did I mention she is tiny?  I warned her that she would be hot by the end of the race.  She didn’t believe me. After all it was chilly that night as we traipsed from store to store.  Her purchases also included quilt batting, clear trash bags, pink spray paint, and a piece of poster board.  I think we turned out pretty cute.  

Credit for my short jagged bangs goes to Miranda.  She assured me she could cut hair.  Come to find out her only practice had been on her Barbie.

And, because I tend to think I am ALWAYS right, I would like to point out that sure enough, by the end of the run Miranda almost passed out from heat exhaustion.  The inside of her trash bag/cotton candy cover was covered with sweaty condensation.

This race will go down as one of my favorites!  We saw a “Cool Runnings” team that ran the entire race together inside of a cardboard bobsled.  And they killed us.  I think they averaged 6 minute miles.  Good for them.  We saw the “12 Days of Christmas” and “Three Blind Mice.”  We even made plans to run it together again this year.  But, alas, it was not to be.  (Miranda and I also tried to run Nashville’s Rock and Roll Half Marathon together last year but were de-railed by tornadoes.  I'm beginning to notice a trend.)  You see, a few months ago two things happened that changed our 2011 Halloween destiny forever.  Miranda broke her foot while singing (and dancing) in the rain.  Seriously.  Again, check out her blog.  And, I signed up for a marathon. 

I know that when I cross the finish line of the Richmond Marathon on November 12^th I will be so proud, thankful, relieved, and glad I did this.  But, in the meantime, when people ask how it’s going, I can only reply with a frustrated sigh.  Marathon training has completely monopolized my life.  I read (well, skimmed) all of the books I could get my hands on.  Each one had me running about 40 miles a week at the peak of my training.  That included 20 mile long runs on the weekends.  But, that left 20 miles to be spread out throughout the rest of the week.  Let’s face it, after running 20 miles on a Saturday, I am not ready to WALK again, much less RUN, until MAYBE Wednesday.  Not to mention, I teach during the day, have after school activities/responsibilities most days…there is only so much daylight to take advantage of and I’m not one of those crazies who will wear the reflective gear or flashing ankle bracelet and run at 3 a.m.  (Props to you if you are-I’m just not that dedicated-and I don’t feel a bit bad about that…)  So, my reply to “How’s training going?” is never really favorable.  I always reply with a list of things that the monopolizing marathon has already prevented me from doing (and I haven’t even run it yet…)  The list usually sounds a little like this:

1-I cannot travel. Ever.  My family lives out of town, one of my dearest friends just birthed triplets, we had a nice fall break/long weekend a few weeks ago; however, I have not left my hometown for any reasonable length of time in months.  I have a fabulous training partner here in town (this whole marathon was her idea by the way…) and I know better than to think I will run 20 miles alone wherever I find myself.  Not to mention, long road trips make my muscles stiff and I am either recovering from a long run or preparing for a long run at all times.

2-I cannot eat what I want. Ever.  I started running to lose weight.  I am not at goal weight yet and would prefer to eat way less carbs than I am now.  But, I tried that once.  Twelve miles into a 16-mile-run I was on the side of the road crying and cursing my running buddy who was trying to encourage me to “keep going.”  She was entirely too chipper and hopeful-and it was her fault I was even running 16 miles to begin with.  The next week I consumed more carbs and ran 18 miles as happily as one can possibly run 18 miles.  Then there were the times I figured I was running 20 miles the next day so I could afford to “indulge” a little.  Let’s just say it’s a good thing we ran those days on busy roads with lots of public restrooms available.

3-I cannot have a social life. Ever.  (Okay, I feel like I should preface this by saying, should I be asked out by a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman who loves Jesus with his whole heart on a Friday night, I would happily skip my marathon training the following Saturday morning.)  However, at this point, the only invitations I have received to hang out on Fridays are “Girls’ Nights Out.”  I love my girls.  And I love going out with them.  But, I cannot justify a late Friday night with them when I know 20 miles is looming over me Saturday at 5:30 a.m.

4-I cannot wear my cute shoes. Ever.  I will admit to having a bit of a shoe addiction.  I will also admit to being the shortest person in my family (with the exception of my 9-year-old sister, but even she is getting close-her foot is already as big as mine).  As a teacher I would prefer that not all of the students tower over me.  So, I wear heels.  A lot.  Not this year.  Mainly because of side effects of long runs-you know ridiculously tired and/or sore legs and giant blood blisters on my feet.  This year I have been oh-so-fashionably sporting my Dansko clogs most days. 

So, if you want to find me on Sunday, November 13^th (the day after the marathon) I will most likely NOT be in my hometown.  However, I probably WILL be out at some restaurant indulging my sweet tooth by ordering dessert after I eat a steak, surrounded by all of my girls (and maybe-crossing my fingers-a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman who loves Jesus with his whole heart), standing at least 5’7” with my 3” heels,  all the while sporting this:

And next Halloween you will probably find me running the Blue Moon Wicked 10k again…and I will probably STILL be wearing the medal.  Good grief, I’m getting my “times’ worth” out of that thing-after all, I earned it!