A lot of medals have been draped around my neck in the past years. Some are more special to me than others. For some, it is the design that makes them special. Others, it is more about the race and my performance that makes the medal a medal of honor.
Early in the year, I laid out my training schedule for BSIM as a training race or “fun run.” Basically, I set out to train well enough to not suffer horribly on race day but with gumby-like flexibility in the plan to allow for my busy life. No pressure to BQ, no time goals, just enjoy the beauty that is Big Sur.
Then, life began to place hurdles in the way of my training. I began wondering if I was running enough to even meet the goal of a finish in Big Sur. I somehow found ways to make time for at least the long runs. And still I dream of finishing the race with my BQ in-hand. That’s just me. I have to dream.
Just as in Steinbeck’s Mice and Men, dreams are often just that. You can lay out a plan to achieve your dream but the dream may or may not come true. That never stopped me from trying though.
Although I realize the ugliness that making a BQ attempt on this course could result in, if by some miracle race day showed signs of the best of all worlds, I’d certainly give it a go. I will toe the line open to all possible scenarios and let the day play out as it will.
That said, “the plan” I laid out calls for 20 miles this weekend. For some reason, I figured that I could settle back into an easy weekend and do 20 next weekend. But as I flip the calendar over to April, I can clearly see that my taper is set to begin following this weekend and I do not ever mess with the 3 week taper.
So, I guess you know what I’ll be doing on Friday. I’ll be making “good” on my plans and going long.
Why is it that I need a race to motivate me into doing what I love (running)? More importantly, why is it that my not running makes me more prone to depression — which makes running more important, yet even more out of reach?
I’ve been sinking deeper and deeper into the-funk-of-no-return in much the same way as one might sink into quicksand. That is, if the movies were actually correct (which apparently they aren’t). Besides my lack of physical exercise, there are many other issues to which I could blame my emotional battle.
But, the real blame sits with me. I could have laced up more often this past week. I felt the levels of stress and depression growing. Yet I did nothing… until now.
Although I always swore I’d be back, it’s been 5 years since I’ve run Big Sur. Timed just weeks after the Boston Marathon, I always deferred registering for Big Sur “just in case” I was qualified to be in Boston. Tonight, I figure that there is no better time, and no better race to run simply for the challenge and the beauty.
If BSIM is on your race calendar, please let me know. I’d love to meet up.
Although I’ve had a long-standing rule to race ALONE, I made an exception for today’s marathon in Santa Barbara. Coach Jeff offered to come out and pace me for the entire route. I responded with a “hell yeah.” It was only later that memories of running 16 miles of CIM with Big Sis at my side — being a little too honest about how awful I looked — left me wondering if I was too quick to reply. I attempted to reassure myself thinking that surely Jeff would NOT do the same. After all, he’s been reading my blog for years now and knows my quirky hang ups.
Of course I had no way of knowing how running with Jeff would be and, given my sensitivity to even the people running near me, I was rightfully nervous. So after managing to overcome some unexpected challenges in getting from Laguna Beach to Santa Barbara, Jeff telling me that he had a bit of a change in race day plans was met with apprehension.
The night before race day was filled with the typical restlessness and anxiety one would expect. I completed my usual obsessively laying out my race-wear, filled up my CamelBak with Perpetuum, loaded the pockets with GU, and attached my chip to my shoe. Everything from breakfast to the cardkey for my room was set out before my head hit the pillow at 9:30 pm.
Race morning came all too quick. I was out of bed at 4 am and was out the door an hour later with my dear friend Mark, who was to run his 1st marathon. Our chariot, driven by Lesley (Jeff’s friend), met us at the corner by the hotel. Out jumped Jeff wearing a Santa hat — with braids attached! While in route, he filled us in on the plans for the rest of his costume.
Things went like clockwork: we got to the start 1 hour early, took a turn in the port-o-potty TWICE, and got race ready. You could say that a few heads turned as Jeff put the finishing touches on his costume. Just when the clock was nearing start time, the delayed start was announced. More milling about was followed by a mass run for the trees and bushes until finally we were lining up.
Minutes later, we were off and running. Our braids were swinging, jokes were flying, and it was certain that a good day was ahead of us. The race course took us through two loops of Goleta, allowing those who were just not sure if it was Santa they saw running past, or something else, to get a 2nd look. Jeff played along and gave a wave or a high-5 to many of the little kids, and showed some leg to many of the big kids.
The whole way, there was laughter and cheer coming our way. It put a smile on my face in the early miles and made me smile on the inside when I could no longer muster a smile in the later miles. It also caught the attention of Drew — a blogger that I’d only known virtually until race day. Drew ran with us for a bit here and there, adding to the jokes on Jeff’s race attire and throwing some encouragement my way.
The course was much tougher than I’d expected. The pavement pounded on my body and the hills put up barriers for me to overcome — which I DID! The whole way, Jeff ran by my side and told me exactly what I needed to hear. When I was sure that there was no way that I could hit my time goal, he kept me going. When my mind had turned to mush, he took the elapsed time and “extrapolated” for me. Forever he delivered the “Impossible is Nothing” message which I needed to hear and have always associated with the Boston Marathon. When I was feeling weak, he told me that I was looking strong. When the hills wear defeating me, he reminded me of my training and chimed “you eat hills for breakfast.” And, silly as it might seem, it was just what I needed to hear. Even when Ms. Garminia was telling me that my goal was slipping away, Jeff was telling me that I could do it.
I still don’t have my Boston Qualification but I’m okay with that. I’m not at all disappointed in my race experience because I can honestly say that I pushed harder than I ever dreamed I could. It’s a whole lot easier to keep pace when the you are ahead of your goal. When you are chasing that goal from behind, it’s a whole different thing to not give up even as you are watching it slip farther and farther away.
It’s been packing, packing, packing…ALL week long (for me, for YaYa, and for the dogs). When it came to packing for me, I wanted to bring everything — including the kitchen sink — but was limited to 1 1/2 suitcases. The challenge of an added business trip (3 days of dinners and meetings) to my marathon weekend forced me to do some careful prioritization. What I need vs what want for my marathon (pre, during, and post) are different. The foam roller could not accompany on this trip however, I made room for my coffee, M&J’s power snacks (baked the night before departure), sleep aid, etc.
More prioritization came into play when I began considering the need to check one of my bags. What if I was lost? One might expect that since the work meetings (for my NEW job) were first in line, I’d keep my business clothes with me. This, I did not. Instead, I placed my racewear, shoes, Ms. Garminia, and laptop in my carry-on. I did make room for one business outfit.
Fortunately, everything arrived just fine. I am now roughing it (as you can see) in a fabulous seaside resort.
