All Downhill From Here

I’ve read about it countless times on the Penguin Yahoo groups and marathoners’ blogs: the crazy fears one’s mind is free to address, now that the countdown to race day and corresponding run distances dwindle. Though I’ve heard shopping is a great remedy, I’m in enough debt already, thanks. I’m cleaning out my much-neglected basement instead.

My friend *jeanne* , a veteran of last year’s Gasparilla PT Challenge and this year’s Goofy, asked me this question recently in an e-mail: “How are you doing? Nervous? Confident? Insane vacillations between the two? And everything in between?”

I’m not really flipping out about actually running the marathon yet. I’m kind of in denial, race-wise. My 20-miler was SO HARD. I really don’t know how I’m going to manage that last 10 km. I don’t WANT to walk it in (though I know I can).

The night before? I’ll sleep lightly and have not-ready nightmares. Then I’ll get the shakes when I’m putting on my race gear and trying to swallow some breakfast. If I’m really lucky, race nerves will clear out my intestines before the start. I’m hoping I’ll be taking the first 2 hours slowly enough to have whatever strength I’ll need later.

In training for any other race in the past, I’ve always been able to imagine my finish. I imagine the volunteers and folks around the clock cheering me in, and I pick up the pace to look strong and amazing. It always cheers me up when I’m working through my weekly program. These last few long runs, when I’ve tried it? I’ve had to stop right away. I’ve gotten too emotional, started to breathe too fast, have had to hold back really strong emotions. I can’t run and hold stuff back. It really messes up the training runs, eh? I WILL let go and cry on race day, probably more than once. I will also finish running and happy, but I won’t practice THAT during a training run. Saving it.

The running will happen the way it happens – there’s not much I can do now but taper wisely (stay healthy and run safely) and trust the training I’ve done. That is actually pretty easy for me. That or denial, whatever we want to call it.

So today I fussed about, cleaning out my office/guest room. The next few days I’ll be tidying up the rec room downstairs, which is still a jumble of boxes and junk from last year’s move. I’m fretting about whether any of our locals will be coming to the Penguin Stampede weiner roast or pasta dinner, and what if they DO, will we be ready? And will our out-of-town guests see what and who they want, and do what they expect, and have the fun they hope for? Sure, that’s enough madness for me right there.

If you were going to come down with a head cold during your marathon training, when would it be? You know, assuming that you couldn’t put it off until, say, a day or two after the race. You’d put it in the taper-time, right? After you’d got in the big long runs? Say, with enough time to recover so that you could still get in a gentle, slow 10 miler the weekend before? You’d probably schedule it for your first day off work, right after the kids’ soccer tournament & double birthday-party weekend, right?

Well, I’ve got bowling-ball head right on cue. Alternately runny and stuffy nose, popping ears, and that sexy, scratchy voice that goes so well with a red nose. I’ve been pretty careful about my immune system during this last month of training. I’ve been taking extra vitamin C, the occasional zinc lozenge and echinacea tea when I feel a little run down, lots of fruit, etc. The cold caught me anyway.

Let’s hope I can nip it in the bud and get over it in good time for the marathon. If I get enough rest today (very likely) I’ll be at Gord’s tonight. I’ll probably do more walking than running. If you’re coming along? Bring your own water.

13. “A Half Marathon is  a LONG way to run.”

That’s what my legs said yesterday, when I ran 21.4 km according to this Gmap I made. Yes, it’s about 10 km less than I ran last weekend, but it still felt really long. It took me really long, too. I usually think of myself as running that distance in somewhere close to 2:45, but I took 2:55 this time.

It started out pretty good. I got up at about 5:30 a.m. and started running at around 7:00. My knee didn’t give me any trouble for a long time, and my calves and feet felt nicely loose and strong. The pathways were delightfully deserted, being Saturday morning instead of my usual Sunday. 

Once I got east of Crowchild I began seeing more runners, and waved hello to a couple of great Roadrunners I know, Colleen and George. They organize one of my favourite races every summer, for Light Up the World. We stopped for a few seconds to chat.

I counted 32 runners before I met up with Sylvie heading west from Prince’s Island. I turned around and ran her short loop to 10th and then back to Eau Claire. We made a pit stop and headed back to Crowchild. She then returned back east to finish her loops and I went west the last 6 km back to my car.

It had been great having company, but now the running got hard again. Shortly after 2 hours my left knee ached for a while. I stopped at the washrooms for a few minutes and then when I carried on it felt better. In the last km I tried to pick up the pace just a smidge and it was very hard to do. I was smiling by the time I was done!

I had a cool bath for a while, then a nice warm shower, and picked up Soccer Boy from his practice. I iced my knee later in the day. The knee wasn’t particularly painful, just kind of… uncooperative.

I even got in a NAP, as Little Runner was at a party for a couple of hours. LR and I will be doing some walking today, to help her accumulate her distance for the Timbits Marathon she’ll be completing while I’m still out on the race course. She’s done her half marathon, as well; we have 20 more km for her to do before race day. I’m thinking the walking might do me a lot of good today.

I arose on Sunday morning at 4:30 a.m., after getting to bed at around 11:30 p.m. I had wanted to get to bed earlier, but the weekend was just too full. Heck, I probably won’t be running my marathon on much sleep either, so I considered it part of the training. The group run downtown didn’t start until 7 a.m., but I wanted to drink some hot coffee and get the digestive stuff out of the way.

The Running Room group I ran with was covering most of the marathon route, only shortening the westest end of the out-and-back, to make it close to 32 km. Mike, the leader of the group was very friendly. He asked about my running history and I gave him a summary. I told him one of the reasons for showing up with them today was that I hoped to cover a more accurate distance. He joked that “You’ve shown up with the wrong group then!” He gave me a map. Their slowest member, Sheila, stayed with me for quite a while. Good thing her knee was bothering her.

For the first 2 hours I ran with Sheila at probably a faster speed than I should have.  It would have been a GREAT pace for me for a half marathon. She helped me stay on course through the route behind the Stampede Grounds, around the zoo, through Bridgeland, and back on to Memorial again. Mike was great about lagging behind the faster groups, to wave at us from key intersections. Ah, back to the river pathway. Now I knew where all the bathrooms were 🙂 Sheila and I veered off the map to stop at the Eau Claire Y bathroom and then carried on together.

I had been a Chatty Kathy for the first couple of hours, but over time I got quieter and quieter as the pace got harder and harder to maintain. I let Sheila go at somewhere around Home Road. She dug out her Ipod and I watched her fade away. She had been great company, and I look forward to seeing her on race day. Thanks, Sheila!

I turned around at 33 Avenue and Bow Crescent. That might make my run closer to 31 km instead of 32, but at that point I was walking and whiny and tired and grumpy. I dumped out the dregs of my Ultima, refilled with water, and soaked my neckerchief at a water fountain.

“I can DO this.”

The distance between the Shouldice and Crowchild bridges was the hardest mental and physical effort I’ve ever made in my training. My 10/1s became closer to 8/2s. I was running slower than 14 minute miles. When I had about 5 walk-breaks to go I started saying it out loud as I counted them down, and that helped me regain some momentum. Remembering, as Ellie said once, to BREATHE deeply helped quite a bit. Amazing how much air my body needs to run a long distance.

It took me 4:19.
3 bathroom breaks; none traumatic (one in bushes, however).
1 itty bitty blister on the outside of my left big toe. Didn’t notice that until Sunday night before bed.
1 achey left knee slightly below the joint – no big worry.
1 achey right arch Monday morning – not serious. Gone now.
no chafing or sunburn problems whatsoever.
sinuses gave me a dehydration, dull-throb headache Sunday afternoon, pain level 1/10

At noon Sunday when I got home I could barely move. Thankfully the family was already off to a picnic. I slipped into a lukewarm bath which I then cooled down with ice for about 10 minutes. Then I had a warmish (not hot) shower to clean up and warm up. I ate a big can of chicken vegetable chunky soup, 2 cookies and 2 glasses of milk.

Once I felt human again, I packed up the car (took me 2 hours, I was nearly braindead) and drove an hour North out past Cremona to Hubby’s family’s Father’s Day picnic. Sunday night I had an earache and downed 1000 mg Vitamin C, one zinc lozenge and a cup of echinacea tea for good measure.

Monday I felt a little stiffer than I usually do after a long run, but still managed to walk somewhat normally (a big flight of stairs to my office). I drank lots of water and made sure I ate some fiber and fresh fruits and veggies (in case I needed to combat the Imodium I took Sunday).

I am not going to be good for much, mentally at least, for the Penguin Stampede banquet. I hope Dawn and Dianne will still have their brains in working order by that point, because mine will be seriously oxygen-deprived.

Thanks for all your encouraging comments over the last couple of days. I hope to answer you all individually very soon.

Did somebody say TAPER?

I just covered 32 km of ground on my own two feet, mostly while running. Well close enough to 32. and close enough to running. My 10 y.o. daughter could have easily beat me in the last 3 miles. I haven’t been this sore in I can’t remember when.

I’m heading for a chilly bath, and then a warmer shower. Let’s just say that this marathon isn’t going to be easy. But then, that’s not why I’m doing it, is it?