#2 / Run a Marathon

1 year.
7 months.
1 week.

October 27th, 2013.  The day I became a marathoner.  One year, seven months and one week after I first started running. 

It's difficult to know where to begin.  I've been MIA for awhile with the weekly marathon training blogs, but I assure you I spent the last six weeks semi-compliantly training (I am incredibly bad at the taper, I will admit).  I have been spending a lot of time in my own head, trying to sort out the loss of my father and the loss of my job.  My runs continued to be my safe space, where I knew where I was going, what I needed to do, and I could go on autopilot which was a blessed respite from the rest of my life.  There were days when it was monotonous.  There were days when I just didn't feel like running.  There were days when pouring rain gave me the delicious excuse to skip a midweek five-miler.  But there were days of pure joy.  Adrenaline?  Maybe.  Knowing my goal was just within reach?  Absolutely!  

Jamie and I disagreed where our first marathon should happen.  I am a fanatic for Spirit of the Marathon and desperately wanted to run Chicago, where the documentary takes place.  I don't travel well, and Chicago is comfortable for me.  Jamie, as always, had bigger plans.  She wanted to run Marine Corps.  I've never been so happy to be wrong.

"Go big or go home," Jamie reminded me dozens of times.  Riding the Metro at 5 am on race day, picking up more and more racers along our way to the Pentagon drove home the fact that this indeed was big.  We watched the sun gently come up and after a few nervous portapotty stops, we made our way to the starting line.  We watched a crew of paratroopers flying gigantic US Flags drop right in front of us, and the singing of the Star Spangled Banner had an incredibly poignant meaning, surrounded by hundreds of US Marines in uniform.  I was ridiculously teary hugging our support crew goodbye and walked with Jamie to her gate in the corral.  I cried, thinking I just didn't want to do this (pure jitters), and Jamie barked at me to get going, which was what I needed.  Get your head in the game, Kid.

Jamie & I book-ending Team Dreamer-Schemer Support Crew

The Howitzer fired, signaling the start of the race and about 12 minutes later, I finally crossed the starting line.  The Marine Corps Marathon is the third largest in the country, and owing to the fact that it's run by the Marines through the streets of Washington, D.C., easily the most inspirational and amazingly well organized.  30,000ish people run "The People's Race," called such because there is no prize purse and it takes place at our nation's Capitol.

I started the race with an ambitious goal for myself, and that was to beat Oprah's MCM 4:29:15 time.  During my first half marathon (the Grand Rapids Marathon), I was passed at about mile eight by the Oprah pace team.  I did math in my foggy head and knew if I didn't keep up with them I wouldn't make my 2:15 goal, so I pushed along behind them, finally passing with about a half mile to go and beat my goal.  So O has a special place in my heart, and although I knew it was a long shot, it was my stretch goal to beat her time.

From trying to leave the starting gates, I knew that my goal was going to be difficult.  The streets were unbelievably congested with runners.  I simply couldn't make my way through the people to get a jump on my pace.  Some women next to me were discussing their strategy, that it's good to start in a faster gate than you intend to run because then you can slow down.  They're lucky it was early in the race because if it had been mentioned later I may have become violent with them.  Not to mention the hills.  Good gravy the hills!!!  You climb 200 feet in the first mile, and another 200 in the second.  I train in a flat as a pancake neighborhood and on a bike path along a lake.  The total gain over the entire course was 1500 feet.  This was just cruel.

I will avoid a mind-numbing blow-by-blow account of each mile (but you can check it out here).  We started near Arlington National Cemetery, which starkly reminds us of the sacrifices made by soldiers and their families.  We made our way through Rosslyn and ran along the tree-lined Potomac ablaze in fall colors.  We crossed the Key Bridge into quaint, adorable Georgetown and made an out and back through Rock Creek Park.  I finally crossed the first 10k mat, which I knew was reporting to all my friends, family and facebookland and that gave me a giant boost of confidence.  My eyes were peeled the whole time until I finally saw Jamie coming toward me.  I knew this was the one and only time we would see each other and I was bursting with excitement!  We gave quick hugs and took off in our respective directions hollering "I love you"s (hey, running is emotional!).

Crowds of spectators were thick throughout the course, holding signs that either made me laugh ("The NSA would tap that") or cry ("My Dad is my Hero").  The hand-cyclists had a tough time making it through the hilly beginning, but every near by runner was cheering them on.  I gave pats on the back to runners pushing carts for people who couldn't run.  There were marching bands, real bands, and people with generator-powered boom boxes all along the course.   USMC soldiers handed us our water, and a proud moment was a rare female Marine giving me an Oorah, Gatorade, and salute.  Highlight!  Occasionally I would pass a group of Marines in formation running in uniform (including boots) wearing full packs that weighed 125 pounds, and saw first-hand the expression of Band of Brothers.  They stuck together literally through every step (here I go crying again).  

We had been warned that there was a stretch of the course through the Potomac Parkway that got a little boring owing to being less visited by spectators.  They were right, but it was a nice change of pace from the craziness of the earlier miles.  It was serene and I finally crossed the 20k mat (and I felt "my people" cheering for me) and shortly after, the half way mark.  The thing is, by this time, you're starting to feel it in your legs and then you realize, holy hell, I'm only half way.  I always LOVE the half way point, but that Sunday it was a cause for fear rather than celebration.  Running is as much mental as it is physical and I was starting to crumble.  Luckily my legs knew just what to do and I got out of my own head for awhile.  There was a stretch of the parkway devoted to fallen soldiers, and their photos were on signs about every six feet along the way.  I looked into their eyes and became overwhelmed with gratitude for what they sacrificed.  There was then a stretch of people holding US Flags and I started to perk up again.    

We made our way past the Lincoln Memorial, passing the Washington Monument (dressed in scaffolding for earthquake repairs) to the National Mall where the most insane group of running spectators I have ever seen was assembled.  These people upped the spectator game, handing out their own candy, bottled water, mini cans of Coke, tissues, and beloved Vaseline.  I still hadn't seen the Team Dreamer-Schemer Support Crew (Jamie's parents and boyfriend) but I did see some Hawkeyes whom I happily gave a "Go Hawks!"  Hey, they're MY people too!!  My only regret was that I should have made them sing "In Heaven There is no Beer" for me...oh well, next time.  Once the Capitol building was in sight I could hardly contain myself!  Adrenaline was pumping, back down the Mall.

Unfortunately, the adrenaline was fleeting and I started to crash after the 30k mat (18.6ish miles).  At the 20 mile mark we approach the 14th Street bridge back across the Potomac.  This is the second gauntlet on the route and I was nowhere near not beating the time limit (at which point you are removed from the course and get a big fat DNF).  I took my first walk of the day.  It was a collective decision among many of the runners, the mile long bridge was void of spectators, it was sunny, and starting to get very hot.  I finally reached for my ipod and hoped some music would cheer me up.  My legs wouldn't move and by the 22nd mile, there were not enough expletives in the English language to express what I was going through.

In marathon training, especially for beginners, we never complete more than 20 milers.  To reach the 20 mile point and think, "I've never run farther than this and now I need to run for another hour (plus)" is beyond daunting.  I had a bit of a mental collapse.  Add in the fact that you've now used all your glycogen stores and your muscles feel like lead, well, it's a tough haul.  The course takes you through Crystal City where there's a family festival with brightly colored banners and peppy people telling you "You're almost there!" and you want to scream "Bullshit!!!  You get your ass out here and try this!!!" (that's the cleaned up version).  I remember the roads were painfully uneven, and at this point you feel every bump and crack in the road.  Oh, add in the fact that I KNEW every toe on my right foot had blistered and I hardly had enough room in my shoes for them.  I had my worst mile.  I walked.  A lot.

A voice in my head told me "This is when you find out what you're made of, Kid."  Not sure who's voice it was.  But it was loud and clear.  And I thought of my Dad, and decided to dedicate the 24th mile to him.  I thought of how he would have been down at the Co-Op Monday morning telling anyone he could that his daughter ran a marathon in Washington, D.C. if he was still with us.  I thought of how hard I had to push myself to get out and run again after he passed away this August.  Somehow I kept going.

I turned a corner and for the first time, I saw "my people."  My sweet friend and hostess for the weekend, Bridget, was standing on a corner, wearing her beloved Dallas Cowboys gear (ballsy for someone from D.C.) and snapping pictures!  I stopped to hug her and she made me keep going (P.S., let a runner stop, even for 15 seconds, for a hug...it gives us more of a boost than you can know).  Graciously, my blisters popped and the release of pressure was amazing.  I suddenly had some spring in my step!    

I decided to dedicate my next 2.2 miles to my future.  I spent time dreaming about all the things that lay ahead for me.  I smiled again.  I didn't look at my watch, and I just ran with everything I had.  I looked ahead and saw a familiar pink sign with black letters and knew that the Team Dreamer Schemer Support Crew was waiting for me!  I started waving my arms in the air from way down the street and was overcome with tears until I passed them, all smiles and a thumbs up to let them know I was all right!

At the MCM, the finish is at the statue of Iwo Jima.  A poignant aspect of the memorial is that it sits atop a hill.  You hear over and over "Take the Iwo!" and the streets are lined with Marines giving high-fives and telling you to run the hill.  When someone in the USMC tells you to do something, well, you do it!  Finally, 4 hours, 41 minutes, and 36 seconds after I started, I crossed the finish line.  I was congratulated by a long line of Marines, shook their hands, and thanked them for their service to our country.  I didn't beat Oprah, but I beat something much bigger: the desire to quit when things got really, really bad.

Then came the finest moment of glory, a USMC soldier draping my medal around my neck, and saluting me.  ME?!!  Through tears, I humbly thanked him for his service to our country and for being there that day.  I looked deep into the eyes of that young hero and thought, who knows what mission is ahead for him?  I said a quick prayer to keep him safe, shook his hand, and walked my first step as a marathoner.  And not just any marathoner, a Marine Corps Marathoner.      

Q: How do you know someone has run a marathon?

A: Don't worry, they'll tell you.  

No marathoner ever achieves this goal by themselves.  I want to take a moment to thank my family, for always supporting me in anything I want to do.  For listening to endless conversations about training runs, races, gear, bodily functions and lingo that you don't understand yet kindly keep nodding and saying "that's great."  Your love means everything to me.  I hope I made you proud.  Your girl is a marathoner!  I want to thank Jamie for putting this idea in my head and being courageous enough for both us.  I want to thank my friends and running buddies for keeping me going, the training is arduous but so much more fun with you around.  Tanya, thanks for showing me the ropes and helping me to have a strong training base that got me through the rough patches.  To my cheerleading squad, HIGH FIVE!  Everyone who tracked my progress and sent encouraging messages before, during, and after, THANK YOU!  I felt your support through every mile.  Last but not least, to our ground support team...you have NO idea what it meant.  Laurie, Bridget, Mike, and Michael, having you there on the streets was absolutely incredible.  My nerves would have been shot, but you made sure I was where I needed to be, kept me company, held my gear and made sure I was well taken care of.  I love you all!     
   

Marathon Training Weeks Eight Through Twelve / Back in the Saddle

Running Recap:
Week Eight

• Monday / 4 Miles / Intervals
• Tuesday / 7 Miles / Pace 
• Wednesday / 4 Miles / Easy  

Week Nine 

• Nothing

Week Ten 

• Tuesday / 4 Miles / Trails 
• Wednesday / 7 Miles / Pace
• Saturday / 18 Miles / Easy 

Week Eleven 

• Tuesday / 5 Miles / Trails
• Wednesday / 8 Miles / Pace
• Thursday / 5 Miles / Easy 
• Saturday / 13 Miles / Easy 

Week Twelve 

• Tuesday / 5 Miles / Easy 
• Thursday / 8 Miles / Pace 
• Saturday / 20 Miles / Easy 

It's been some time since I've written, a friend reminded me last night.  I told her I couldn't, writing is still too close.  Four weeks ago I got a call in the middle of the night from my mom.  Midnight, on the dot.  I was in a sleeping pill induced haze, as my alarm was set for the Old Farts Trail Race the next morning, and answered "Hey Momma!  How are you?"  It wasn't until she told me an unreal story about my Dad that I still can't quite comprehend, that I learned he had been killed in a tragic accident. 

Fast forward through everything that has followed between then and now.  I have learned the power of putting one foot in front of the other, both in life and in my running.  My grief has manifested as a rock in my stomach, residing right below my rib cage.  It's about the size of an ostrich egg.  I can't wait for it to go away, but I know I will feel an emptiness when it's gone.  For now, the grief rock makes food unappetizing, makes it hard to breathe, and is a constant reminder that all isn't well in my life.  I had to make an alliance with the rock in order to even be able to get back out on the road.  The first day I tried to run after my father's death I was terrified.  Showering was, and still is, exhausting, so how was I going to be able to rally the moxie to actually run again?  

Funny thing is, it didn't take long to learn that running is about the only easy thing in my life.  I won't lie, it hurts, I doubt myself, and I fight with the inner quitter in me every time I head out to run.  

I found running a year and a half ago, when I went through a major life change.  I wanted to redefine myself. There was an unexpected side effect: while out on runs, my mind completely cleared.  It was the only time I found peace from my thoughts.  I could just be.  It was spiritual, and meditative, and exactly what I needed. Fortunately, it's working precisely the same way now.

So while I'm not exactly on track with my marathon training, I'm exactly where I should be.  Over these past weeks, I've crossed some milestones that are worthy of celebration:

• My first 18 miler!
• My first 20 miler!
• 500 miles for the year!     

And the rock was there in my stomach for all of them.  Step by step, the rock and I are just putting one of my feet in front of the other.  It would be easy to quit now, I have a good excuse, after all.  But I'm not looking for an excuse to quit.  Full disclosure though, I am in a daily search for reasons NOT to quit.    

YOLO

I have news for you.  YOLO is a farce.  You only die once.  You live every glorious day.  So go out & do it.

Week Thirteen's Intention: Conquering Fools      

Marathon Training / Week Seven : Routine

Running Recap:

• Tuesday / 4 Miles / Intervals
• Wednesday / 7 Miles / Pace 
• Thursday / 4 Miles / Trails 
• Saturday / 9 Miles / Easy 

We all know the song that plays on Bill Murray's alarm clock at 6:00 AM in the movie Groundhog Day.  Sing it with me..."Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb, babe...I got you babe..."  Phil Conors, played by Murray, wakes every day to this song, finding himself in a time loop, resetting every day on Groundhog Day.  At first he tries all sorts of hedonistic and self serving ways to fill his days, even attempting suicide.  But after awhile, he sees that he can accomplish good things during these repetitive days, and re-examines his life and his place in the world.  

Marathon training can be a bit like Groundhog Day.  I've completed my seventh of eighteen weeks, and while I have plenty of motivational gas left in the tank, I can say with all honesty that it is very much a life consuming routine.  I'm constantly thinking about what I will be eating, because the runger strikes every three hours with a vengeance.  I obsess over the hour by hour weather forecast, in an effort to plan out when I will get to run.  I plan my social life (don't kid yourself, Kid, you don't have one) around my runs.  I track the mileage on the three pairs of shoes I have in rotation and plot when I will need another pair (another few weeks).  I mark my miles on a calendar at my desk, track it against the plan I have in a handy-dandy binder, and also log my miles online with my Garmin.  See what I mean about consuming?  

I just finished reading Miss Peregrin's Home For Peculiar Children.  The story features a Groundhog Day-esque loop, where the head mistress, Miss Peregrin, oversees an orphanage for children with superpowers.  Their loop resets every day the moment before their home is bombed by Nazi war planes.  Their days are filled with chores on the same sunshiny perfect day and highlighted by the children's shenanigans."Believing that routine was the best defense against depression, Miss Peregrine tried to keep everyone interested in her daily lessons, in preparing the daily meals, and in keeping the house spic and span." 

The routine of marathon training is exactly what keeps me moving forward, week after week, running four days a week.  I've done training plans before and executed miserably.  What's working for me this time is that I am not just getting the miles in, rather each day I run has a specific purpose.  Each of the four runs I do each week are entirely different, and maybe that's what keeps the Groundhog Day Syndrome to a minimum.  I've played around a lot with training scenarios and structured a plan that's paying off already, physically and mentally.  And it goes a little something like this...

• Running Down a Dream / Intervals :  I watched my friend Jessica get faster and faster all spring.  I finally asked her, how in the heck are you so fast?  Her response: intervals.  Looking up how to do interval training gave me total information overload, but I embraced the spirit of it and came up with this plan: run 4 minutes at average/comfortable pace, run 1 minute just about as hard as I can, knowing I have to keep it up for a whole minute.  Repeat for the length of your run.  (I've taken 1:22/mile off my interval time...she wasn't kidding, it works).  
• The Distance (she's going the distance, she's going for speed) / Pace: Pace runs are mid-distance runs at the anticipated race pace.  It's to get my body synced in with what it "feels" like to run at the speed which I want to run my marathon.  A lot of people don't really have a good idea what their first marathon race pace will be, and I've used 4 different calculators that put my race pace within a 7 minute range based on my races this year.  Oddly, smack in the middle is the pie-in-the-sky time I put on my registration.  It's a little overwhelming thinking that's how fast I will run for 26.2 miles, without allowances for potty breaks.  But as Jamie has said, I'm sure there are worse things that have been done on the streets of D.C.  
• Happy Trails to You / Trails:  Ahhhh, trail running.  I love trail running.  I hate trail running.  I love trail running.  I am lucky enough to live in an area with a multitude of state parks with nicely marked trails through the most stunning dune forests you will ever see.  My trail run days rejuvenate my soul. That is, when I'm not panting and cursing at how hard it is to run trails.  Trial running is good because it improves proprioception, strengthens different muscles, is less jarring on your joints, and adding in the hills gives you a cardio workout like no other.  It's also the place where I leave behind all expectations of pace.  I walk when I need to.  I fall flat on my rump sometimes.  It's all good!  
• Slow Ride, Take it Easy / Easy: Hal Higdon recommends his marathoners do their long runs 60-90 seconds slower than anticipated race pace.  Whaaaa?  Wouldn't I want to run my long runs at pace, so I know I can make it that far at that pace?  Hell.  No.  First, it would wreck your body and you'd be beyond wiped out tired after your long runs, never able to recover to do your other runs during the week.  Moreover, without pretending like I know a lot of exercise science mumbojumbo, running more slowly helps your body learn to burn glycogen more efficiently.  Your body burns fat on those slow runs.  And whether it's proven or not, I've read for every pound lost, you take 10 seconds off your mile.  If that's actually true, hey, it's just another benefit of the slow run!   

So while it may look from the outside like ALL that I am doing is running ALL the time (okay, it's kinda true), the routine really is the sweet spot that keeps the Groundhog Day Blues away.  So when my alarm goes off at 6 o'clock, and Sonny is singing "Babe...I got you babe" all I can do is smile, hop out of bed and slide into my Mizunos.  There are miles to run, my friends!  

Until we meet again...

      Week Eight's Intention: You're a BAMF      

Marathon Training : Week Six / Joy

Running Recap:

• Tuesday / 3 Miles / Intervals 
• Wednesday / 6 Miles / Pace
• Thursday / 3 Miles / Trails 
• Friday / 3.1 Miles / Friday Fivek 
• Sunday / 15 Miles / Easy 

The very first movie I watched when I got my Roku was Happy.  It was New Year's Eve 2012.  All by myself.  It seemed like the perfect way to say good bye to a year full of proverbial trial and tribulation.  It turns out, according to the movie, about 50 percent of happiness is genetic (we all know those people who we swear were born in a bad mood...), about 10 percent is linked to our circumstance (job, wealth, ability to survive kind of stuff), and the remaining 40 percent is determined by what we purposely do to make ourselves happier.  The movie shows us that we can increase our happiness through activity, compassion, spending time in nature, and bringing variety into our lives.  FORTY PERCENT!  

I spent the last week with my Momma, and if there's ever someone who takes full advantage of that forty percent statistic, it's her.  I credit her with my sanguine disposition as well as my appetite for life.  I tend to think I was literally born with it given that the day I was born, my Momma had spent the day hiking through an area in southern Minnesota she calls "God's Country."  I wonder if she had known she would be at the hospital later that night giving birth she would have laid off the day hike, but knowing her, probably not!    

My intention for this week was joy, and we lived and breathed it!  When I moved away from home a dozen years ago, my Momma began a tradition of visiting on my birthday.  As I moved further away, the visit stretched out to a whole week, and she also started bringing a niece along with her (just one of the girls at a time).  This year was Kiara's year to visit Auntie Kari, and I was excited to share some new experiences with her.  Through all our adventures, I tried to focus on the beautiful, joyous happy moments we shared, and soaked up the experiences through their eyes.  

We toured a working dairy farm, where I got to hear my Momma recount stories of her childhood summers on her grandparents' on their dairy farm.  Her joy at seeing a calf on the day it was born, the smell of silage, and the feeling of a cow licking her with a curious tongue returned her to her childhood.  We visited a petting zoo, where I watched with smiles as Kiara fed baby deer from scavenged pellets (too cheap to spend her own quarters on feed!)  We ooh'd and aah'd at the finds in The Henry Ford, where our favorite moment was sitting on THE Rosa Parks bus.   Kiara has a knack for crime-fighting and aspirations of becoming a K9 Detective, so I lined up a visit to a neighboring county's 911 central dispatch center.  She grinned from ear to ear watching my friend Jen take emergency calls from an automobile crash.  Another day, we visited the big lake, and I watched from the shore as she jumped through pounding waves and I gave gratitude to be able to give her this kind of a childhood experience.  I must have looked like the Cheshire Cat, because I found complete strangers passing on the beach were smiling back at me.  

Momma & me on the Rosa Parks bus 

But the single most joyous moment for me was running with Kiara in her first 5K race.  I was slightly surprised when she said she wanted to do it with me, and suspect she was motivated by my promise that she'd get a dog tag award if she finished (the child is highly motivated by bling of any sort).  A whole slew of my friends were there, and I was proud before it even started.  The gun went off and she was gone!  I sprinted to keep up with her, and kept reminding her to slow it down.  I loved hearing her little lungs breathing hard, and she just kept going.  As we approached our first big hill on the course, I told her it's okay to walk up hills and she thankfully slowed.  I don't think I will ever forget our conversations on that run, me cheering her on, coaching her on technique, her complaining about her legs hurting and how she didn't believe me that this was fun.  I laughed as she started fantasizing about what she was going to have for dinner afterward (chicken strips) because that's exactly what I do on my runs!  The course was mainly trails, which was so beautiful and as the crowd thinned out, it was just us on the path, sharing this moment together.  I told her to save some energy and turn on the gas at the end when everyone was watching, and she did just that, sprinting to the finish!  

Take a cue from "Happy" and make the most of what you can with that 40%!  Set out every day with the intention to explore, experience new things, spend time in nature, or just play a little!  These places are where we find contentment and joy.  

You may not be what you think you are,

but what you think, you are. 

~Jim Clark 

Week Seven's Intention: Routine 

        

Marathon Training : Week Five / Restoration

Running Recap:

• Tuesday / 3 Mile / Interval (personal record for this year!) 
• Wednesday / 6 Mile / Pace
• Thursday / 3 Mile / Trails 
• Saturday / 12 Miles / Easy 
• Sunday / Cross Train / TBD (likely hugging and tickling my niece, but maybe a bike ride) 

As I set my intention for Week Five, I was looking to give myself time to relax, rest, and restore before my family comes to visit for an entire week.  I love having them here, but know I will spend the week joyfully playing cruise director, collapsing into bed each night from pure exhaustion.  So I wished to peacefully tuck away some time for myself, focusing on restoration of my body and soul before their arrival.  I think of myself as a socially-ept introvert.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not shy.  I like being around people, I have fun in social situations, and value time with friends.  However, I LOVE time by myself.  There is nothing more satisfying than time alone to read, cook, cuddle my pugs, do yoga and watch the most boring documentaries which I could not possibly subject another person to view with me.  (Sidebar: I'm presently watching New York: A Documentary Film...14.5 hours of the history of the city.  I am enthralled!)

My lovely soon-to-arrive visitors! (Photo from 2008!!! Kiara is now 10 & there's NO WAY I can give her a piggy back) 

I started out the week great, cooking up a storm of healthy body fueling/nourishing/restoring Thug Kitchen offerings: smokey veggie burgers, broccoli chickpea burritos, pasta salad, potato salad and my Mommabear's dill cucumbers.  The weather finally flipped from being like the Devil's armpit to cool and crisp.  My runs were amazing for the first time in, well, forever!  Then I had some soul sucking days at work.  And my Grandpa Willie, who has been fighting lung cancer like a prize fighter for twenty-one months took a turn for the worse.  My heart has been smashed to pieces.  I found myself in a carb-induced fog following a comfort food binge: frozen pizza, java vanilla stout, praline pecan ice cream, and a coffee cake.  I somehow managed to eat half the cake through sobs so wracking that I could hardly breathe.  Definitely not pretty crying.  With chunks of cinnamon crumbles and cake all over my face.  Definitely not pretty crying (oh yeah, I said that already, right?!) 

The last time I saw my Grandpa was in May, and he asked me about my running.  I told him that I had gotten into the Marine Corps Marathon and he asked me the most common question most non-runners ask: "How long is that, kiddo?"  26.2 miles, Grandpa.  He laughed.  He told me, "Well, you look great, it's working for you!"  If you have ever met my Grandpa, you'll never forget his laugh.  And that's the sound that's in my head and my heart as I know the time to say goodbye is near.  That's the sound that is restoring my broken heart.      

Often our days and weeks don't go the way we plan.  We get news that rocks us to the core, even when we know it's on the horizon.  We set out with best of intentions, and life takes us in the exact opposite direction of where we want to be.  We end up ugly crying and face-stuffing a coffee cake.  These are the times when we need to lean on what we know we can do, what we are capable of, and find a way to move forward.  One step at a time.  

Week Six Intention: Joy 

           

Marathon Training : Week Four / Rhythm

Running Recap: 

• Tuesday /  3 Miles / Easy (man my legs were sore from 5 days off running) 
• Wednesday / 6 Miles / Pace 
• Thursday / 3 Miles / Interval 
• Saturday / 13.1 Miles / Running Mad Half Marathon  2:13:50 (no PR but it was HOT!) 
• Sunday / Cross train / 1 hour bike ride  

The intention for this week was literally rhythm, and when I set this intention, there really was no deep meaning behind the word.  The first three tenets of Good Form Running are posture, lean, midfoot strike (which I haven't purposely worked on, I have very small feet and truly can't feel the difference between a heel, midfoot, and ball strike.  We learned in GFR that this principal will fall into place on it's own when the other three are mastered).  The final is cadence.  180 footfalls per minute.  That's SMOKIN.  1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4.  Pretty much as fast as you can clap your hands.  Now count that while lifting your feet simultaneously off the ground and propelling yourself forward.  And don't forget your potato chip hands and your gangsta lean.  

Being a band geek, I have a decent internal metronome, and 180 beats per minute is a Prestissimo tempo (meaning very fast, no joke!).  While most people run to techno, dance and rock music, I have the interesting preference to run to jam bands.  So generally, my steps are in double time to Dave Matthews Band, O.A.R., Mumford & Sons.  Happily, Everlasting Light by the Black Keys is EXACTLY 180 bpm, and I've always noticed how good it feels to run to this song! 

Finding this insanely quick groove requires a watch (count one foot's falls for twenty seconds, you need to be at 30 strikes), a metronome (seriously, they sell these in running stores for this purpose but I have used a metronome app on my phone), or even just the right playlist (google 180 bpm play lists).  This REALLY narrows your stride and is the cadence you should use whether you're running fast or slow.  How in the world does this work?!  Shouldn't you move your feet quicker to run faster?!  Nope.  To run faster, you push back further and lengthen your stride, and hustle that foot back up under your hip.  I've discovered heiny muscles I didn't know existed. 

And I'm not going to lie, it's painful to try to change your stride.  Booty muscles are sore, the tops of my feet ache.  My legs themselves are sore (and this is a feeling I rarely experience anymore with a regular running schedule).  My body is hurting after 25 miles last week (my highest mileage week ever! Hoo Rah!) but the sick person deep inside me loves these new pains!  Sometimes, it's about finding our rhythm in life, where we're in the groove, loving that perfect pace, perfectly in step with where we need to be.  And sometimes in running, it's about finding our literal rhythm.  180 footfalls per minute at a time.   

MRTT Angels Pre-Running Mad Half Marathon 

(PS, that is 24,120 steps) 

Week Five's Intention: Restoration 

#28 / Start a Blog

Yes.  This is a blog about writing a blog.  I know it seems incredibly inane, but in the spirit of the process of the 40x40, it deserves some love.

Last year when I trained for my first half marathon, I went through some incredibly profound changes.  I decided to use running to reinvent myself.  I was at a point in my life when my old identity no longer fit.  Kind of a spiritual "Fat Guy in a Little Coat."  As I look back now, I so wish I had chronicled the changes I went through.  There were some really deep things I figured out on the road.  Thing is, while I was finding my strength in my legs, heart, and lungs, it was all too raw to actually put it all out there for anyone.  I couldn't actually face a lot of it until I was across the finish line.  

A friend encouraged me to write the 40x40, and as I started marathon training he said, Kid, you really need to write this down.  If not for anyone else, for yourself, so you can remember all the things you went through. I took this to heart, and honestly decided I didn't want to have just another running blog.  I love you running bloggers, I troll you like it's my second job.  But I wanted to create something that I can always have to remember my adventures and truly chronicle the 40x40.  Warning: last night I started planning the 50x50, so this is not the end of this craziness.

Procrastinators UNITE: Tomorrow 

Problem was, I just didn't want to start blogging because I wanted it to be so perfect.  This is a character flaw which has plagued me most of my life.  I couldn't decide on the perfect name, or a theme, or a URL.  So I did nothing.  

Then add the pressure of having an elementary-school BFF who is a brilliant blogger, who's had a post picked up by Huffington Press and another which landed her an interview on our local 5 o'clock news.  Sorry, Sarah, I just realized by all serendipity that both of our first posts were themed "Follow the Yellow Brick Road."  I SWEAR on this picture that I did not plagiarize you.  Yours is way more profound anyway.  

Tell us, Kid, what is the Mystery of Ass?  

Compile that pressure with the incredibly dry, witty blog of my running-partner-dreamer-schemer who is not just training for a marathon, she's finding her awesome AND raising money for epilepsy therapy (consider donating...it's such a worthy charity).  Oh and then the handfuls of other friends who have inspiring blogs, write blogs for work, etc.  Self doubt wracked me into paralysis.  But then I just up and started writing.  About an hour after I created my template, I published the first post.  It was not perfect.  None of them have been and none of them will be.  I'm not sure I even like the name.  But I'm not getting caught up in the details.  

And that, my friends, is how you start a blog.