HALF-MARATHON

This was the day. The day that my twelve weeks of training came to a head and I proved that I could accomplish something I never thought possible two years ago... Heck, maybe even a year ago. I picked out my outfit the night before and laid it out - complete with my "If I'm doing this it must be getting cold in Hell" BondiBand. I had all of my gear ready to go. I went to bed and drank some hot tea to aid in my drifting off to sweet dreams. As I laid in bed, eyes closed, I started replaying the advice I have received over these past twelve weeks. The one that stood out the most: "Visualize yourself crossing the finish line." I kept replaying that image in my head. Over and over and over again. It was a picture perfect moment. I looked strong. The strength of my stride got stronger and longer as I got closer to the finish line. Once I crossed the finish line, I would run into my husband's arms and my children would join our embrace (although Diva said she was sleeping in and not joining us). Ahhhh... What a sweet visual to fall asleep to last night.

The day had arrived. It was dark and early and it was time to get dressed. I found out that Diva changed her mind and wanted to go cheer me on. That made me smile. Before I knew it. We were ready to go. The dense fog made it somewhat hard for us to get there - missing one turn made us a tad bit later than we anticipated. Once we arrived to the race site, we had less than twenty minutes before the half-marathon started. My first stop was to the portapotties. Oh, the lines at the porta potties. There were four lines, all as long as the others. The conversation flowed as freely as we hoped our... Never mind, I'm not going to finish that statement.

When I exited the portapotty, I met up with a fellow running friend just outside of the potties. We overheard "5-4-3", etc. Freaked out we warmed up/sprinted to the start line - FREAKED!!! How could we have missed the start?!?!?! Then, the announcer then said, "the wheelchair half-marathoner has begun." Whew, we were relieved. We made our way to the starting corral and found the 3:00 pacer, Michelle. My plan was to stick with her and keep her pace. She's been very gracious with her advice and support this past week. I looked forward to running with her. I introduced myself and we were off.

About fifty feet along the course, I saw my family. There was KISA and Diva standing alongside the road. Captain Awesome was sitting on the Hubster's shoulders. I waved with a big smile and continued on. The pace was comfortable as Michelle said that we were going a little fast. That was a relief. I truly felt that I could do this pace for 13.1 miles. The group of runners that were running a 3:00 pace were so friendly - the ones I interacted with any way. Michelle kept us laughing and loose.

At mile one, we were a little ahead of pace. Michelle tried to readjust our strides. We looked to our left and we saw a beautiful athletic specimen gliding along the path, going the opposite direction as us. Michelle began cheering him on and we followed along and clapped and cheered. Then, one of us asked, "How soon do you think he's going to finish." We were astonished to learn he was going to finish the marathon in a third of the time it was going to take us to finish. Luckily none of us had any delusions of being, what's the word? Fast?

Unfortunately, this is basically where my story ends. Circumstances beyond my control sidelined me at mile two. I was done. In tears I called my husband and let him know I could not finish, nor could I go on to the first spectator spot at mile three. The image of the letters DNF on the race result website seared my brain and my disappointment increased. A jovial volunteer offered to take me to start line so I could meet up with the hubby. She was so perky - an obvious attempt to keep my spirits up. I told her how this week was full of barricades that were trying to keep me from running this race - and how I should have relented. I told her how fearful I was to return to our car and tell my children that I quit. She assured me that my son wouldn't remember and my daughter would learn that we have to listen to and cherish our bodies. I hoped she was right.

I saw our car and the Hubster standing beside it. He wrapped his arms around me and let me cry. When I got into our car, my son said, "I thought you were going to run longer." Dagger in the heart. :-) My daughter was so supportive and assured me that it was OK.

I came home and asked to be allowed to lay in bed the rest of the day and pout. This pity party was a one man show. The family agreed but that only lasted an hour or so. Next thing I knew, the kids came into my room with hot pink posters, purple balloons and purple streamers. They intended to have them on the course to cheer me on. Although I didn't finish - or come close to finishing - they wanted to show me how proud they were at my attempt. It was very sweet.

So, what's next? White Rock. I've already put my training plan in my agenda (scheduled workouts make it hard to skip workouts). Although I wrote training for this week, I planned on taking it easy. However, it's time for plan B. The training will go on and hopefully I will go on along with it.

HALF-MARATHON TRAINING: WEEK ELEVEN

Did you miss me? Probably not. I didn't blog last week because other responsibilities took over. This week, I focused upon making my mileage. Needless to say, this week was a challenge, indeed!

I told myself that I had to do every frigging mile of my training plan this week. I can see my half, just around the corner. I asked the kids to tag along on Monday for my training run. I had Captain Awesome in the stroller and Diva on the bike. Little Miss Diva was texting ahead of me and it just reminded me of how slow I was going. But hey... Quality family time, right?

Also this week, the emails and FaceBook updates from my half-marathon have increased in frequency. With each email or ping from my cell phone (from a FB update), the nerves churned in my stomach. I started questioning my ability. At one point I gave myself a time limit to finish the half. Today, my goal is to just finish. Finish it. That's all I want to do at this point. Finish it. I've been told that I am not ready. I've been told that I should just put off my first half. That just breaks my heart.

I did my ten miles, the most I've ever done, this weekend. Talk about pain! Even so, a day later, I'm ready for another run. Does that make me a runner? I do believe so.

I really don't have much more to say. Only, I want to finish.


PLANNED MILEAGE: 23
ACTUAL MILEAGE: 24.07
CALORIES BURNED: 3,201

HALF-MARATHON TRAINING: WEEK SEVEN

I am sad to say that this week was not as successfully as I would have liked for it to be. My training was sidetracked due to the pity party that consumed my week. It was all because of back-to-back sub par runs. That was all that I needed to deter my training this week.

I had an awesome workout at boot camp on Monday. It was there that a friend asked to run with me the following morning. I was very ecstatic to have a new buddy to run with me. I came home and told the Hubs all about it. At approximately 5:45 the following morning, I was served a huge dish of humble pie. The request to run with me was veiled with uncertainty as she stated, "I want to see if I can do it". I didn't believe that I would be running with Joan Benoit. This woman who claimed she hadn't run in a while was totally smoking me. I felt so bad for her. I was holding her back. It was embarrassing. I was scheduled for 4.5 miles that day. I only logged three. By the end of those three miles, I lost count of the number of times I apologized for my poor excuse for a run.

I logged 1.59 additional miles during the remainder ofr the week. It was a very poor 1.59 miles. I walked/ran during that distance but was very distracted. I was still thinking about what a failure I had turned into.

On Friday, I attended the Women of Faith pre-conference. I prayed to be blessed on my way there, but my alter ego, Negative Nancy, was skeptical. God had a reason for me being there and the reason why was answered fairly quickly. That first day I witnessed a drama performed by Nicole Johnson called "The Label Maker". My friend nudged me as the character described how much better her life would be once she could organize her entire house with labels from her new label maker. "Doesn't my daughter know that you don't put the blond dolls with the brunettes? It's clearly labeled." It was humorous until the labels were being placed on family members and friends. Her husband had removed a label from their daughter's forehead. It read "chubby". There were a list of labels: "Godly", "Un-Godly", "Lazy", "Selfish", etc. What labels am I placing on everyone else. What labels am I placing on me?

Later in the day, Marcus Buckingham spoke. Marcus was a senior researcher at Gallup Organization for almost two decades. He was part of a survey that asked what individuals focus on more; their strengths or their weaknesses. Gallup conducted the survey for, I believe, four years. Each year of the study, the results were the same. People focused more on their weaknesses.

Weaknesses and labels. It was all coming together. I have been using my weaknesses to label myself. "Weak." "Incapable." "Loser." "Failure." Not only did I see the labels that I was placing upon myself. I realized the I have been also placing labels on my family and my friends. The Lord began working on my heart. That afternoon I prayed that the Lord forgive me for labeling my loved ones. I prayed that my loved ones forgive me for labeling them. I prayed that I be able to let go of this awful habit.

Then, Saturday arrived. It was a powerful day. There were tears as I listened to the speakers. Karen James, widow of Mt. Hood climber Kelly James, spoke about her husband and his love of the Lord. As she discussed the pain she felt after losing her husband, she said something that really penetrated my heart: "You can either curl up or look up during adversity."

The last speaker of the day was Michelle Aguilar, season six winner of The Biggest Loser. She would use her time pulling back the curtain for us and expose what really occurred on The Biggest Loser Ranch. Behind that curtain was fear. One day on the ranch, Michelle had to climb up a big pole and jump off from a small ledge (yes, with a safety wire). Michelle was crippled with fear and refuse to jump. She would find herself crouching on that ledge while smiling. She was crippled with fear. Down below my favorite Biggest Loser trainer, Jillian Michaels, was yelling at her to get it over with and jump off. After about thirty minutes, Michelle jumped off the ledge. Once she had made it back down to the ground, Jillian asked a poignant question, "Why are you so content sitting in your fear?" She then provided advice for this habit, "Feel the fear and do it anyway." This made such an impact on Michelle. She realized that there was no reason for her to be fearful if only she could put it all in God's hands. When you trust our powerful and Almighty God, fear should not be in your vocabulary.

I combined these thoughts together and reflected upon this past week. I have been repeating the same word over and over this week. "Impossible." I say it because I am fearful of my failure. Back to Karen James' statement, I would probably feel very content curling up in my adversity. But what does that teach me? Why would I be content sitting in my fear of failure? I shouldn't. I don't want my readers to think that I went to the Women of Faith Conference for a way to get my training back on track. That's not it at all. This conference touched me and I can't wait to see what wonderful things the Lord intends on me to do with these blessings. But hey, I'm blogging about my running, so that is why I'm relating it to this challenging week I've had.

I know I promised a giveaway this week. I hope you can understand why I had to postpone it. I felt the gift I was given at this weekend's conference was a more important giveaway.

PLANNED MILEAGE: 19 miles
ACTUAL MILEAGE: 4.59 miles
CALORIES BURNED: 1,331*

*Although I didn't run, I did three boot camps and strength training.

To Hang Up Or Not Hang Up, That Is The Question

I had yet another horrible run this morning. This really bites. I couldn't even finish my 4.5 miles this morning. I only logged 3. Even then, I couldn't even run a full mile. That's two horrible runs in a row. A disturbing 5K on Saturday and then this atrocity of a run this morning. I am seriously considering hanging up my running shoes for good.

There are a slew of reasons why I feel I should stop.

1. My feet are starting to hurt again. Last year I was diagnosed with plantar fasciitis in my left heel. After six months of treatment, if miraculously went away. I was weeks away from surgery and poof. All better. I began running again the first of this year. It came back in my right foot. Took steroids and poof. Better. Now it is back. IN BOTH FEET. How's that for discomfort? It's so bad, I'm wearing my ugly shoes (look at an earlier post titled "Comfort Outranks Beauty").

2. My training is not working. I remember only a few weeks ago I doubled my three mile run, just because it felt good. Like I said, this morning, I couldn't even run a mile without stopping. What is the reason for this?

3. I am not getting any faster. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I am getting slower. How's that for motivation?

4. It's freaking hot out there. It was hot and muggy at 5:30 this morning. It is hot at noon. It is hot at 8:00pm. Does the heat affect my running? My performance? If so, how is this helping me train for my half?

The picture explains it all. I feel like a loser. I am really thinking about quitting. I don't know if I can do this. I need some advice.

HALF-MARATHON TRAINING: WEEK SIX

There's nothing much to report this week. I'm halfway through my training and finished this week with a race. Insert sigh here ---->

I ran over five miles on Tuesday, encased by an hour of boot camp. On Friday, my legs (and buttocks) were still sore from that workout. There was more sprint work this week on the dreadmill. I even surprised myself by getting up at 5:00am on Thursday for a run date with a friend. Even I thought I was a little insane for doing that. I found a runner's diet plan midway in the week that I plan on implementing next week. Again, nothing super exciting occurred this week. Until my 5K on Saturday. Maybe exciting is overselling it.

I tossed and turned on Friday night as I anticipated my first race since Mother's Day. I don't know why I was so anxious, nervous, excited, or whatever it was that I was. I think I had higher expectations for myself for this race after all of the training that I have been doing. Let's face it. I. HAVE. BEEN. TRAINING!!!! Yes, in fact, I KNOW I had higher expectations for myself. With my other training plans, I'll be honest, I wasn't as diligent. Maybe I skipped a couple of runs each week. If I did my long run each week, that was what mattered to me most. This time, it's been much different. I have been very careful about making sure that I get my miles in. I really have!

After an argument with Google Maps, we finally arrived at the race site. It was an inaugural race, so I didn't expect a huge crowd. The course was described as "flat and fast", two words that I loved seeing described about a race. I'd say that there were about a few dozen participants that lined up for the 5K race. I'd say that the size of this race makes my mistakes more visible.

Mistake One: I was one of the first ones to line up. Yes, I should not have lined up with the fast guys, but I was ready to start.

Mistake Two: As soon as the air horn went off, I bolted. They say that a race is good to help you pace yourself and keep up with others around you. I should have lined up with at least the mid group of participants. Lesson learned.

Mistake Three: I held my breath. I don't know why. Less than a minute into the race, I was ready to stop. I had an unexplainable feeling in my throat, head and chest. It wasn't good. I seriously considered falling to the ground or twisting my ankle. I wasn't able to get my rhythm back after that horrible start.

I really wanted to cry so many times during the race. Even though the course wound through shaded paths, I was miserable. I even had thoughts of quitting... Not just the race, but training. I thought, "If I can't run three flingin' flangin' (edited of course) miles, how the hell can I expect myself to run 13.1?" I came close to stopping during that first mile and turn around. I came close to walking back to the start of the race and find The Hubster, my biggest fan, and tell him I give up. Why didn't I? I knew what he would say. Oh, but I also knew how great it would feel to have his arms around me and give me the big supportive hug that I love him for. Yes, he would support me if I decided to stop running. However, I know that if he were running next to me he would tell me that I was capable and I could do it and he believed in me. So, I kept going.

36 minutes.

Yes, it took me 36 minutes to run 3.1 miles. My desire to quit had never looked so appealing. I was absolutely mortified and it took everything in my power to not cry. I thought the race was horrible. Seeing my time was worse. This was worse than my first race after injury. Then, KISA reminded me why I participated in this race. I will take the mistakes that I made this time and learn from them. He's one smart guy.

As I close out this week, I leave you with a disturbing visual. Enjoy! Oh, by the way. Check back next week. I'm hosting my first giveaway! I'm very excited!!!




PLANNED MILEAGE: 13.1
ACTUAL MILEAGE: 14.75
CALORIES BURNED: 2,696
ACCOMPLISHMENT: I learned valuable lessons that will get me through these next six weeks.