In my home, where the testosterone runs high, doing anything “like a girl” is used as an insult. I usually just ignore it because it just isn’t worth the fight. When I came home from my weekend with “the girls”, the boys were all watching football on TV. I said, “and *look* at my ‘medal'”, as I showed BoBo and YaYa my necklace – I think the inflection in my voice told them that this was something special. Then I showed off my race shirt, which I am wearing. BoBo read the tag line, “Ran like a girl” and laughed. I just smiled and walked away to get an ice pack.
Rock ‘N Roll (or not)
The down and dirty of it all is that I had another DNF today. DNF stands for “did not finish.” It is not a failure; it just is what it is. I only hope that it isn’t a sign of things to come.
I’m tired of race reports where I plan to do something remarkable and amazing and come back to report a performance that is “less than” what I know I am capable of. I’m tired of admitting that I am human, but the fact is I *am* human. I’ve been failing all too often lately.
From Bizz Johnson (October 2004), Silicon Valley (October 2005), and Grandma’s (June 2006), I have had less than satisfying performances. There was always a reason for my “less than” performance, but I am getting tired of it. CIM 2006 will not be another one of those races. My DNF today, was in an effort to be certain that I don’t have yet another reason for a “less than” marathon finish. I am not proud of my DNF, I am just accepting it. CIM is my race for 2006, and I am not going to sacrifice it for a half marathon.
Mom’s Race Report
I love running, and enjoy any opportunity I have to share running with my family. I try to encourage them only and not shove it down their throats. When BoBo decided that he didn’t want to do another 10K with me (at least not this one), I didn’t push any further. I considered doing the 10K on my own. It would serve as both another opportunity to race, as well as a way to get another number to gauge my training success. I threw that idea out, and asked YaYa if he wanted to join me and run his first running race. YaYa said, “yes” and I had a date for the race.
Grandma Julie’s race report
Grandma’s Marathon was all they said it would be. The course follows Lake Superior for many of the miles. The view is spectacular. After about mile 19, the course brings the runners through cute neighborhoods, and into town. The crowds were fabulous. People had their hoses hooked to the top of a ladder and left it on for runners to run through and cool off a bit. Kids were out giving high-fives and everyone was cheering.
But the weather was less than optimal for physical activity of this sort. It was hot. I heard 88 degrees and wondered why it felt like it was in the 100s. The humidity is why. It was about 80 percent I am told.
Not far into the course the first person when down. She was about my age and was having a seizure. She must have bit her lip because her emesis was mixed with blood. It was a horible sight. I slowed down to assess the situation. The people helping her seemed to be doing exactly what I would know to do. I continued on, and then felt guilty for not stopping for the next few miles. Later in the course others went down and out. Ambulances were passing frequently and I knew that I had just forget my BQ goal today and just stay safe. I wasn’t keeping pace anyhow, so it wasn’t a hard choice to make.
No matter how many marathons I do, it is never “easy.” Today was just a reminder to me of the magnitude of how physically demanding marathoning is.
I finished in 4:36, per the race clock, and just wandered in complete numbness. I felt so empty and alone. My clothes were soaked through and I am wiped out. To top it off, Verizon Wireless apparently could not keep up the demands of the 9,000+ runners making calls in Duluth – the network died. So I couldn’t call my family for a much needed Hello until I finally dragged my way back to the hotel.
Now, it is time to rest up. My flight leaves at 5 a.m. tomorrow.
Kaiser Permanente Half Marathon
Spending nearly my entire Saturday cleaning house should have tired me out. At midnight, however, I was still wide awake. I wasn’t anxious; I just could not sleep. I even took two Tylenol PM to attempt to induce sleep. It wasn’t until my youngest, who also couldn’t sleep, joined me in bed that I was able to leave my body for the land of dreams. Just a few hours later, I was awakening for my race preparations and travel to the race.
At 5 AM Sunday morning, just prior to the alarm sounding, I hoped out of bed. I wasn’t nervous about the race itself; I just wanted to be sure that we caught the bus to the start on time. Since I had set out all of my clothes the night before, I just put them on and went downstairs to eat and wait for Cindy to arrive. It wasn’t until we were arriving in San Francisco that I began to get nervous. As we drove down 19th, it felt like a race to get the last parking spots. It seemed that the majority of the cars out were filled with other runners. Having to pass the smaller parking spots, we ended up a half a mile uphill from the bus pickup. We ran down, got in a crazy long line of runners, and later boarded the bus for the start.
The day was clear and sunny. I knew I had made a grave error in choosing my clothing. I had expected the usual foggy, cold weather that San Francisco is known for. There I stood, among runners in shorts and singlet, in my tights and running long sleeved mock tee. “Just a training race,” I reminded myself.
When we first headed out, I felt awkward. I just couldn’t find my groove. Cindy was with me and we made small talk as we went. But while I love to RUN with company, I hate to RACE with company. There is an awareness of the other person that keeps me from totally focusing on myself. You hear their breathing, their steps, and maybe even their thoughts. I feel their discomfort and I just can’t find separation. So when Cindy was heading to the bushes for pee, I decided to hold mine a bit longer. I knew that even if she caught up with me, or passed me, that I would have found my groove in the meantime. I immediately felt 100% better. Less than a mile later was a huge line of porta-potties.
The race took us up and down small rolling hills. I was just too hot, so I peeled off my long sleeved shirt and gradually got used to the cool air. As I headed down the hill toward the Great Highway I was awed with the breath taking view of the ocean. I love California! This part of the race is a long, gentle climb. We run on the chopped up road towards the zoo and then turn around and head back. While it is fun to see the race leaders zooming past, it is easy to feel like all of those people are passing you.
After the turn around, I pick up my effort ever so slightly. Running on more of the shoulder of the road, the path is less torn up. It is easier to enjoy the view. I see the torture in the oncoming runners faces as they continue in the opposite direction. I remember what I felt when I was on that side of the road. I’ve only got 3.1 more miles to run and it feels good knowing this. When I make the turn back towards Golden Gate Park, I come across this young lady who groans that she hopes that she can finish. “Oh, you WILL finish,” I assure her. She is unaware just how close the finish is. I arm her with the knowledge that she has less than a half a mile to go and plow into the hill. I know the course well from here. I pick up the pace even more, and as I turn the corner and head toward the finish line I am already moving as fast as my feet will take me. I finish 1:56.
I found myself slightly disappointed in my finish time. I secretly wanted to beat my 1:50 time from two years ago. I wanted this even though I had sprinted too early in that race as I had thought the finish was at the end of the Great Highway. I had actually run VERY well. I ran, an evenly paced race, dead on at my marathon pace.