Stalled

I had a two-paragraph rant about how much we pay for our family's insurance and how little that has actually provided us. (unless we're talking about grief and hassles. It provides a crapton of that)

I've pared it down to the above sentences. Complaining isn't productive and it makes me feel gross. It did feel fairly refreshing to pound out angry words on my laptop, though. 

not as refreshing as running, obviously. Hi, Dad!

As you may have surmised from the title, there has not been a ton of progress. I finally received a call from the Orthopedic Oncologist's office who informed me my insurance does not cover any doctors outside of our county. 

Nice. 

There are zero (none, nada) Orthopedic Oncologists in our county. 

This new setback led to another day spent waiting, making phone calls, trying not to cry and not always succeeding at any of that. As the hours wound down, though, it was apparent we were faced with another. wasted. day.  

Friends and family have kindly asked for updates, so there it is. Tomorrow will be spent doing what I did, today. If we are able to connect the right pair of doctors, we might be able to get an appointment for a week from now. This will be a consultation, and unlikely to garner any solid answers. 

Just another step. 

Fun side note : If we are not able to get insurance to cooperate with this process, the aforementioned consultation will cost $750. 

During the interim, I've tried some longer walks and even a bit of jogging. It hurts. The pain doesn't let up at any point. A smarter runner may even label it "unbearable" or "not something I can run through".  Luckily, as I've pointed out in the past, no one has ever accused me of being particularly smart. 

Here is my thought process : 

If it is/was a stress fracture, it now has a calcification so big and strong, the doctors are unable to detect any evidence of the actual trauma. At that stage in a healing process, I should be able to run. 

If it is a tumor, I can't be causing any further damage by testing out the legs. It's simply a matter of just how much pain I want to endure. 

Care to share your thoughts about my thoughts?

One day, my friend and I ran to the Pacific Ocean. Why can't I be stalled in that kind of day?

Still More

I'd be remiss if I didn't, again, thank everyone for their kind words and wisdom. Sharing this has opened up opportunities and insight I could not have even known to ask for. Even the simple "you're in our thoughts" brings us joy and peace. 

Something for me and my family to remember, moving forward. If you don't know what to do to help, a kind word goes a long way. 

Thank you. 

My watch knows what I want to do 

The oncologist's office stayed true to their word and got me in contact with an Orthopedic doctor they trusted. There was a (lucky!) cancellation, and I was able to get an appointment, this morning. After all the weeks of frustrating waits, the last few days have been a blessing. 

The PA and doctor asked a lot of pertinent questions and really listened to my responses. They also took quite a bit of time to actually review all of the scans and written reports. My fear (a bit of PTSD from previous appointments) was that I'd be made to feel silly for all of these steps and tests. 

When the pain initially stopped me in my tracks. (quite literally) There were enough symptoms pointing in the stress fracture direction. When the weeks dragged on and I was still in so much pain, I finally sought professional help to confirm my suspicions (stress fracture) or diagnose a different injury (tear, sprain, etc) and help with treatment. 

With all that's transpired, I fear I give off the impression of trying to dig for something that's not there. That's never been my goal or desire. This was supposed to be cut and dry. I'm supposed to be able to run by now. 

my grandparents are just as enthused by my tangents as you all are 

Back to the update. 

The Orthopedic doctor strongly feels a stress fracture makes the most sense, given most of the circumstances. Based on what he saw on the scans, some of the details and the reports, though, he is not 100% sure. Like the others before him, he was unable to actually find a stress fracture. The growth on the bone could very well be the healing/calcification of an old injury. The margins are irregular, though, and there isn't a single scan that actually shows said, old injury.  Additionally, if the stress fracture is healed enough to be completely covered by new growth, I shouldn't still be having this much pain, at rest. That's my long-winded explanation of why there is enough doubt for him send me on to the next expert. 

They are setting me up with the one and only Orthopedic Oncologist in Central Florida. He will look at the cool pictures of the inside of my leg, listen to me tell this boring story for the umpteenth time, and tell me if he thinks it's a tumor. More tests are likely, surgery is possible, impatient waiting is an absolute given.

In a lovely world, the doctor would have showed me, on the scan "here is your running injury and this is how we fix it." Come to think of it, that's what I have been hoping with every appointment I've had since the beginning of January. That didn't happen, (once again) but I am glad he is not taking any chances.

So, that's where we are in the process. Feel free to ask or share anything you'd like about the situation.

Plus, if you have pain you are not able to ignore, during physical activity, consider seeing a doctor sooner, rather than later. In my experience, it hasn't always been necessary. We aren't always qualified to know, though.

Chicagoland Spring Marathon Recap

(2013)

 

 

Spoiler # 2 : I have plenty of time to get my many four readers caught up on the past year of running and racing, before any new adventures will need to be re-capped.

 

A lot of the races I ran, during my Blogging Hiatus, were new to me, so I'd love to share my experiences. I also tried some new training, recovery and pacing experiences and would feel remiss in not sharing those, as well. So, if you've got some time, over the next few weeks, I've got some stories.

 

After I ran a Boston Qualifying Marathon in February, the horrific events unfolded at said marathon, in April 2013. One of the resulting feelings that surfaced was a pressing need to be at the 2014 start line of the Boston Marathon. I feared my qualifying time wouldn't be fast enough, with the huge influx of runners vying for the same experience.

 

I bit the bullet and registered for a May race, with the intent of running closer to the 3:35 range, rather than the 3:38:xx I qualified with. After a ton of research, I'd settled on The Chicagoland Spring Marathon in Schaumburg, IL.

 

May in Florida is already sticky and hot (like, 90 degrees, hot). May in Schaumburg is typically still "Spring-like" and much, much cooler. (For reference, this year's race day has a predicted high temperature of 60 degrees.)

 

 The course was flat, the number of participants was small and I'd even be able to visit with extended family. (Hi, Denny and Jill!! ) I don't like to splurge for race travel, but the need was overwhelming.

 

I needta run another one!!

 

I'd sufficiently recovered from the February race, so I just threw together a hasty few weeks of marathon "refresher" training. To date, they were some of my strongest workouts, ever. The weather was getting downright miserable, but my body was responding unbelievably well to the mileage and speed work. So much so, that I started re-thinking my sub 3:35 goal, and leaned more towards trying to knock out a sub 3:30.

 

Plus, (foreshadowing) the Illinois weather was going to be almost ideal for a marathon. While huffing and puffing through training in 80-85 degree morning runs, I was reassuring myself with the visions of the 60 degree race in Chicagoland.

 

My strong, speedy dad even jumped on board. He decided to fly up there with me and run the half marathon. What could possibly go wrong with this stellar Training, FamilyFun, Wonderful Weather Trifecta?!

speedy Dad

 

We didn't need too much extra time in the fair city of Schaumburg, so we flew out the day before the race. I normally pull the masses back into a ratty ponytail, throw on something pajama-like and fly in style. 

 

Sidenote: Have I reminded you, lately, about how lucky I am to have the husband I do?

 

A quick, pre-dawn glance in the mirror revealed that my go-to Fashionable Flier Getup might need a bit of tweaking :

 





"Good morning, Dad. Um. I'm going need a couple extra minutes"

 

That rush styling job resulted in a nasty flat iron burn on my tiny ear. Probably added at least 4 minutes to my finishing time, the next day. Or not.

 

Moving on.

 

Sleek hair, weeping, open wound on my ear, giddy excitement and tall, tight socks. The lucky traveling companion was my dad, not my husband, this trip. Aim to please : Bullseye!

because wearing long pants to cover the socks would be too easy

 

Lots of quality time spent together, waiting for our rental car, followed by a quick trip to the hotel. Dropped off our stuff and headed to pick up our race packets.

 

After following some really confusing verbal directions, along with chalk arrows, we ended up in an empty storefront. Well, of course your race number should be obtained by waiting in an oddly-split line in the middle of a creepy, abandoned building! Just like every other expo...

 

The rest of our goodies were being held at Dick Pond Athletic store...just past more weird chalk arrows and sidewalk drawings. I have to assume this wasn't their initial Packet Pickup plan. If so, the organizers may want to go back to the drawing board for a short while.

 





We grabbed our goody bags and some race day fuel.  I'm a bit hazy on the details. I know there was a cool water bottle. I still have mine. Other than that, I'm pretty sure there were just some flyers for local races and businesses.

This fella was next door to the store. He didn't sponsor, though. That extra "N" must've put him over his advertising budget.

 

We also received one of my all-time favorite race shirts. Neon green, long-sleeved, half-zip shirts, to be exact. Pay no attention to my reflection in the photo above. Why in the world would I be wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt? May, in this area of Illinois, is just plain chilly. Surely the Race Directors, in their infinite wisdom, wouldn't have handed out toasty, warm attire if it were going to be 80+ degrees on race day!

 

If you're not soaking up what I'm spilling at this point, I'll start to spell it out. It was not cool. It was H-O-...



 

After a bit of sightseeing (ps: sightseeing, for runners, is driving and stalking the race course. looking for elevation changes, amount of shade, etc), we went to Whole Foods. It was my first time in the fabled store, and neither one of us had ever dined there. With my eating habits, it was as dreamy as I'd imagined it to be. I loaded up any goodies I could bring home to the boys without melting or spoiling in my suitcase. Luckily they're pretty easy to please. For real.

"Mom texted pics of traffic lights AND brought us home Clif Bars?! Score!!"

 

We indulged in Veggie, Carbie goodness from the various DIY bars, at Whole Foods. As awesome as it is, I'm really glad there isn't a store within an hour of my house. I would spend way too many of our dollars there.

I don't know all the Blogging Rules. I remembered the one about If You Eat at Whole Foods, You Must Have Photo Proof

 

We didn't do any shakeout runs or really all the much extra walking. It was just a relaxing, stress-free day of easy travel and laughs. I couldn't have asked for better, prior to a marathon far away from home. Of course we called home and got caught up on everyone's days.

 

The more we talked on the phone, too, the less we could check our weather apps. The forecast was so, so not good. I laid out my Marathon Outfit, agonized over fueling and hydration and tried not to panic.

 

The Emergency Heat Warning email from the Race Directors threw a wrench in the whole "Not Panicking' plan. "Runners who have not trained in extremely warm climates should consider not running in the morning" " Those who have sufficiently trained need to adjust their goals, drastically" And the like.

 

Awesome.

 

I made the brilliant decision to NOT adjust my goals and just go ahead and pretend it was not too hot to run really fast for 26.2 miles. Remember, I had the aforementioned trifecta on my side. I flew all the way to another state for this race and it was going to be perfect, darnit!

 

The start area was right across the street from our hotel, so we didn't even have to wake up at an unpleasant hour. I had my standard, 3 hours prior plain bagel. I went back to sleep, and got back up a while later for coffee, water, and more Not Panicking. My dad and I gathered up our gels and Not Panicked our way all the way out of the hotel, through the humid, morning fog and into the starting area.

 

We had a few minutes to relax before finding a comfortable spot in the one and only corral. Even with the two distances, there were still less than 1,000 runners. My plan was to run the first half of the race in about 1:45. I wanted even splits, or slightly negative on the second half, if possible.

 

My fueling plan had worked so well for my last Marathon, I decided to follow it, again. February marathon : 30 degrees. May marathon: 80 degrees. See a problem with my logic, yet, 'cause I didn't. (face, meet palm!)

"My mom's #1 when it comes to race execution!"

 

I was feeling depleted by mile 4. (four!) The pace felt really easy but I was hungry and thirsty. I was carrying my small handheld bottle and ended up refilling it. A lot. I also took my first gel a bit earlier than I'd planned to, but it was too little, too late. (more on that, later)

 

We split off from the halfers at mile 8. My dad and I said something encouraging to one another before following our new paths.

Him: "Don't die of heat stroke. Your mother will be furious with me!"

Me: "You, either. My name's not on the rental car agreement!"

 

Or something along those lines.

 

By mile 9, I'd caught up to the 3:30 Pace Leader, as per my plan. He was running alone, already. When he turned and saw me close by, he looked right through me, and started encouraging other stragglers to catch up to him. I found it odd that he chose to ignore, rather than pep-talk me, but I wasn't there to make friends, anyway. I silently plodded along behind him, until he ducked into a park bathroom and a different pacer appeared. This new pacer had a handful of followers and was way more chatty than the last guy. However, he was not without his issues.

 

"Hey guys. We're going to bank some time on this shady part of the trail, 'cause the rest of it's going to be pretty rough."

 

In theory, that makes good sense. Pacing a group who has likely not trained themselves to run ~8 minute miles for 10 miles of a marathon, then suddenly drop the pace to 7:10 for the next few miles...notsomuch.

 

I took that opportunity to pretend like I was all alone on the trail, turn on my ipod, and focus on my even splits. That's the way I like to run, anyway.

 

The course starts on a highway, weaves in and out of Nature Preserve trails (paved. open to the public) for the majority of the race, and then ends up back on that same, burning hot highway. There were very little opportunities for spectating, so it was pretty quiet in between waters stops. If you're looking for a flat, scenic course, this is a good option. If you're opposed to dodging cyclists, demoralizing out & backs and sharp turns around a cone in the middle of a median, you may want to choose a different marathon. Course map

 

(I sound bitter. Under better conditions I might've really liked it. In fact, now that some time has passed, my dad and I have even tossed around the idea of taking another shot at it.)

 

I crossed the half-marathon (13.1 miles) mat at 1:45:08 and promptly came to a dead stop. What?! I can't recall doing that in a race before this one, but it happened and everything quickly unraveled. The first half hadn't felt awful, but it was getting HOT and I (later figured out I) totally messed up my fueling. I forced my legs to start shuffling, again, but was completely panic-stricken. The thought of chasing a PR, in the heat, completely alone, seemed laughable.

 

My thoughts of dropping out were overwhelming. It was really only logistics that stopped my from doing so, initially. Remember, we were way out on Nature Trails. How would I even get back to the start? By them time I reached an aid station, I still wanted to quit, but had found my Motivation to Shuffle Through It from other sources.

"You quit?! I can't even look at you, right now, Mama"

 

1. My husband was home, in another state, caring for our home and family so that I could run this stupid marathon. I refused to take that for granted by announcing that I hadn't even finished the race.

2. I had no cell phone, thus no way to reach my dad.

3. The money I'd dropped on this "redemption race?!" No way was I wasting it, entirely!

4. We had plans to meet up with our extended family for dinner. How embarrassed would I be to have their first experience with Jennifer As a Marathoner be : The Story of How I Didn't Earn a Medal.

 

I won't drag you through the play-by-play for the rest of it. Just know that I wasn't "brave" or "strong" for finishing a marathon when it was 80+ degrees and even some pacers were being carried off the course on stretchers. I was simply cheap and stubborn.

 

 The finish line was gorgeous. Having my dad waiting for me (and seeing the medal HE earned!!) was even better. The sprinkler system and free massages erased my tears. (yes. actual tears were shed over this race)

 

I had no appetite, but we wandered around the after-party, hoping something might look palatable. I think I choked down 1/2 banana and a few bites of a granola bar. I knew my finishing time (3:51ish), but we hung around the results board out of curiosity, anyway. I ended up in the top 50, overall, and somehow I managed to place 3rd in my age group.

 

That's a toughie to comment on. I sound like a jerk when I say "it's not cool, 'cause it was a crappy overall time". However, that's kind of the way it goes. Me being faster than everyone but 2 people, in my age group, is relative. It's almost like winning a race when there's only one participant. All of that having been said, I will always take pride in finishing a race AND collecting the spoils.

 

We asked around and learned that there wasn't an actual awards ceremony. You just had to show your bib to the high school volunteers and they'd hand over your "award".

 

Not only did I traipse around the finish area, soaking wet and barefoot, (see video at end for proof) I also proceeded to dive, headfirst, into a trash bin to retrieve the sweaty bib I'd tossed. Shame? What the heck is that?

The engraving appears illegible in the photo. I think they read: "Appallingly ugly Finisher's Medal" and "Equally Hideous Marathon Winner Medal"

 

My dad and I headed back to the room for some rest and much-needed (me, especially) cleaning up. After we looked respectable, again, we met up with his brother and family. They were awesome and treated us to dinner, so I introduced my cousins to Frozen Yogurt for dessert.

 

Yeah. They'd never been to a Frozen Yogurt shop. I will suck that up and still claim them as family, though.

"So, this cold stuff in the bowls. What are we supposed to do with it, again?"

Kidding, guys. I love you!

 

It was a rough day.

I did not even run a Boston Qualifying time, much less better my previous one.

I learned from the experience and treasured every. single. moment. Other than the "soul crushing heat" (my dad's spot-on description)

 

Thank you for skimming reading this mini-novel. I've got more! Lots more! Most of them will be shorter, though. Here's a teaser : I flew back to Illinois, for another race, a few months later.

 

And now....The Video. You may have to watch it more than once to fully appreciate all that takes place in the few seconds that are captured. Please note the following :

 

-My weird giddiness over that cold sprinkler

-My bare feet. In a parking lot.

-The struggles the other finishers are clearly dealing with, due to the heat.

-The pacer being assisted over to the cold sprinklers, by EMS personnel.

-Me moving 1/2 inch to allow someone else to share my precious water

 







 

 



 

 

 

 





Spoiler

I'm not the type to frantically flip to the back of the book to read the last page, before conquering the rest of the story. I do know and love "this type", but it's not my typical move.

It's been a while since we've all chatted, though, so I'll pretend we're all strangers. With that in mind, for all I know, you guys like fast-forwarding to the end of the story.

So, I guess the current page would read a bit something like this :

 

 

The time for brave-faced jokes and stiff-upper-lipping was over. I finally succumbed. The powerful music that fueled so many months, days, hours...agonizing seconds of training overcame me. I let it wash over me as I crumbled.

 

Physically, mentally...it was inevitable.

 

Those tears of regret and pain that had been threatening for weeks didn't feel therapeutic or peaceful. They burned. They broke me even further. They seemed to be endless.

 



Every Day is Mother's Day

Well...not really. The title simply helps justify a Mother's Day-themed post written a day late.

My blog. My rules.

 

Life's all about balance. Today's example :

 

When you spend a couple of hours, on Mother's Day, running miles in these sorts of conditions :

that "partly cloudy" description was a lie. Unless sweat in the eyes counts as "clouds"

 

You have to balance it out with spending a greater or equal amount of time doing things like this:

 

bliss for the boys and their mama

 

I hope all of your Sundays were awesome. Next up : Balancing blog-posting laziness with...well...un-laziness. 







 

 

Quick PSA

Whole, entire posts (including recap(s)) coming soon! Couldn't let this important reminder wait, though.

 

When you head out for a long run, don't leave your water bottle on your kitchen counter. Excessive thirst and desperation may force you to drink out of a gas station bathroom sink. Don't let this happen to you :

 

For some reason I was really nauseous the next few miles...

 

Hope everyone is well and taking the time to appreciate cold drinking water from a clean, reliable source, today.

 



Feelings

I've been staring at this blank page since I raced my way to a Boston Qualifying time. It's not that I was unsure what to say, there's just too much I want to share. (and probably very little that any of you will actually care to read). I've realized I'm going to have to split it into 3 parts.

 

First: I'm going to have to get some feelings out of the way. They were/are integral and important.

 

Second: The Figures and facts. (mile splits, fueling, etc) It's not interesting to everyone, but I love to have it to look back on. Also, I've made poor Mike wait long enough.

 

Third: The actual race specifics. It's an awesome and fairly unique event. It deserves it's own story. This will likely not happen for a few months, though. I think, once Summer descends and my racing season ends for a while, I'll take that time to go back and share some recaps (expos, crowd support, after parties...that sort of thing)

 

See why this has taken so long? That took up a ton of space and it was only a boring intro!

 

note to moms: step out from behind the camera sometimes. Your children get frustrated when these are the only types of photos they can find with you in them

 

In 2004, my dearest friend (who was also nice enough to have birthed me) found a lump in her breast. She's a semi-professional worrier, so I definitely took it seriously, but didn't panic. She was active, ate healthy, had recently lost a bunch of weight and our family doesn't have a history of breast cancer.

 

I, heavily pregnant, joined her and my dad to hear the results of the biopsy. After what seemed like an eternity, they emerged from the office in tears. They were emotional wrecks (naturally) and started spilling out the bad news. 

 

For some mysterious reason, my every emotion, (even the pregnancy/hormonal ones!) were pushed aside and I just started getting down to business. I'm sure they didn't fully appreciate my immediate barrage of questions and detailed plans of attack, but it sure helped me deal. It was in that moment that I realized my role. I needed to be a source of strength. No, crying and showing raw emotions are not forms of weakness. For me, though, I couldn't break down in tears with them AND sort through how we were going to deal with Breast Cancer. I needed to be tear-free and business-like.

 

Weeks later, my mom and I attended a seminar at the local hospital. The volunteers were explaining various options for headgear during chemotherapy (wigs, scarves, hats) and ways to apply makeup when you've lost all of your eyelashes. They showed a video of heartbreakingly beautiful women, like my mom, who had suffered so much and were dedicated to helping others try to keep their spirits up. It was totally random, but I felt the tears coming. I waddled (still pregnant) to the bathroom and sobbed 'til I puked. My mom never saw, though she may have suspected. We finished off the class, laughed and played with the makeup samples and wigs and left feeling simultaneously devasted and hopeful.

 

 She's not called Grandma, she's "Buddy". Oh, and she loves babies.

 

In January 2005, I delivered a beautiful baby boy and my mom started down a long, hideously awful road of chemo and radiation treatments. We threw her a Hat Party, brought her popsicles when it was all she could stomach, scoured the surrounding cities for some sort of air freshener that was "Nothing" scented. (she became hyper-aware of smells and it further nauseated her) She was so physically weak and battered, but still so very "mom". Everything about her personality remained. I will never forget that. Wouldn't it have been so much easier for her to have just broken down and turned into a whiny jerk?!



"silly, Buddy, it's okay!" "I'm bald, too!"

During one of her follow-up Oncology appointments, the doctor (a runner) stressed to my mom the importance of physical fitness for recovery. At that time, my mom was in no shape to even walk for any length of time, but it turned on a switch in my brain.

Soon after, I started turning my (kinda) daily walks into attempts to run. I knew nothing other than the fact that I could move my feet faster than I previously had, without dying. Also, I loved it.  I kept the new hobby mostly between The Husband and myself, though. (my sissy recently mentioned this in one of her brilliant posts. Yes, my mom's illness and recovery had awakened a desperate need for me to keep my body moving. No, I didn't feel it appropriate to be all "Listen, mom, I know you can't even roll over without pain, but I found out I love to run!" Not good timing.

More babies...more life stuff...lots of time off running, but I re-discovered a passion for it a couple of years later. Short story long : My mom is cancer-free and I've proudly called myself A Runner for about four years. Seemingly unrelated until you toss in the Marathon I just ran.

If you haven't yet clicked on the link, it's a race to "Finish Breast Cancer". 100% of the profits go back into local breast cancer research and support. When picking my races for this year, it was hard to argue with the merits of that one. Since it'd be my third one in five months, though, I expected to just run it "for the cause". Once I fell soooo short of my lofty goals at this disaster of a marathon, though, I was dead-set on running these 26.2 miles in less than 3 hours and 40 minutes.

his Game Face is so much cuter than mine

 

I took the no-brainer route and decided to run this race For My Mom. Only, I didn't actually tell her I'd be doing that. To set a nearly 20 minute PR goal, tell her about it and then tell her how I failed would've been disappointing (for me), to say the least.

 

As I mentioned, all the numbers and race details will be included in the next post. Here's a sneak peek, though : For the majority of the race, I was ahead of the 3:35 pace group. When they passed me, and the miles started getting oh-so-dark, I started down the cowardly route.

 

I told myself it was okay to not Qualify For Boston, as I'd still have my fastest marathon finishing time, ever! That thought was thoroughly destroyed when I remembered My Reason, My Why, My Motivation for this race. Those frightening, surgery and misery-filled days flashed before me.

 

My mother had gracefully survived a Life-Threatening Disease and I was whining about keeping up my pace for 30-40 more stinking minutes?!

 

So I pushed on, without crying. All that strength that magically came to me when my mom was fighting this disease, returned.

I thought of Elaine, another very dear-to-me woman who fought (and fought. and fought) and did not, in the end, survive Breast Cancer. I started to choke up and instead smiled when I realized that, if she were alive, she'd be running this race with me. That type of crazy would be right up her alley.

At mile 24, I thought of Sandy. She, too, was taken by this disease. Instead of running, though, she'd very likely be praying for my soul, assuming I'd lost my mind by paying to run 26.2 miles. That, too, chased away tears and brought a necessary calm.

At mile 25, I was basically a robot. No emotion, no thought other than "You have NOT come this far to FAIL!" Then I saw The Dreaded Bridge and nearly lost it. I was desperately conjuring up images of my mom, my family, the tearful, joyous finish line I'd been imagining all year. That Bridge? It was winning.

Then I saw her. The lady on the left side holding a black poster with white lettering. She wasn't jumping up and down or shaking maracas, like the other spectators. She was simply looking right at me and smiling.

As I begged and pleaded for my shaking legs to make that final ascent, her poster lit those things on fire.

"I'm a Breast Cancer Survivor. Thank You For Running For Me"

We both had sunglasses on, but I like to think we made eye contact. I wish I could've thanked HER. I flew down that bridge and crossed that line while the clock still read 3:39xx. But the tears didn't come. The strength and basic lack of emotion stayed with me. Mostly I was in disbelief. It wasn't until several days later, much like the random sobfest with my mom, that it happened.

I was looking at my race photos and pulled up the Finisher's Certificate. For some reason, when I saw my name, followed by those final numbers, I just sat there and cried. (and cried. and cried) I finally realized that I set out to run a Boston Qualifying Marathon, for my beautiful and amazing mother, and had actually done it. It hadn't just "happened". I FREAKING DID THAT!

I'll never know why my mom was spared when others weren't. All I know is that I'm beyond grateful for every single day I have with her and I'll never be able to thank her enough for inspiring me to conquer seemingly impossible challenges.

 

 





We Interrupt This Running Blog

To bring you...

 

skiing!!

 

Some of my more intuitive readers may have wisely realized that this activity cannot take place in Florida. Indeed, wise friends, we took the boys for a long weekend to North Carolina. The two youngers have never tried any sort of snowy sports, so we figured it cheapest best to start them out on tiny, East Coast mountains.

 

Never ceasing to amaze, though, they took to skiing and snowboarding like ducks to water...or maybe penguins to ice blocks....whatever. They were naturals.

oh. They were really cute, too.

Bonus: The Oldest is big enough to wear The Husband's gear!

 

Middle-of-the-night road trip, followed by an entire day on the slopes should have led to utter exhaustion followed by complete meltdowns. Our children surprised us, once again, by being totally compliant, sweet and in total enjoyment of every second of the day.

 



snow angels

 

I know you were dying to know what my feet looked like when not clad in running shoes

 

On the off chance you stopped by my blog to get your much-needed fix of my awesome running tales, there was a bit of that on this trip, too. After our free!! hotel breakfast, I hopped out for a short, hilly jaunt. It wasn't quite as cold as it had been the previous day, and the overnight rain had washed away any snow. It was still lovely to be in new surroundings, enjoying the beautiful area and the feeling of the cool air on my cheeks.

one of the pic-worthy spots on my route

 

I spotted an enormous hill, just off the main road, and decided to attack it. First, though, I pulled out my phone to take a picture from the bottom. I've always seen photos of hills with a caption that reads something like this : "This picture doesn't do it justice" or "You can't really tell how tall it was from this picture".

 

Mentally scoffing at those who'd gone before me, I positioned myself just right to photographically capture a true depiction of the mountain I was about to conquer.

Listen, you can't really tell from this picture how high that thing really was

 

I made it just over halfway up before gasping and panting my way (carefully) back down. My poor, sick lungs were just not ready for that sort of challenge. That yet-to-be-recapped Marathon did a number on me!

 

We took our sweet, sight-seeing time back to Florida. The trip was long enough to squeeze in just about everything we wanted to do, but short enough to where we weren't aching for home by the end of it.

 

pausing the rock-skipping to pose for mom

 

How was your weekend? 





 



 

 



The Race That Got Me To THAT Race

I want to tell you all about yesterday's marathon. In order to get us all caught up to that point, though, I feel like I need to recap The Melbourne Half Marathon, first. It was really one of the key components to my race, this past weekend. Also, I started this blog to have a place to tell my running stories. Soooo..here's another one!

I ran this half marathon, last year (pre-blogging days) and ended up with a disappointing (for me) finishing time. The course was very cool and challenging, though, and the city put on a great weekend of racing . When registration opened for the 2013 event, I signed up immediately. I wanted more pizza and free beer after the race redemption!

Fast forward a few months:
Minus the whole Jacksonville Bank Marathon debacle, my running and training had actually been going very well. I'd kinda tapped into a new Racing Mentality during The Shoelace Fiasco Race and felt like some really good racing experiences were about to be in my life. I got a teensy bit greedy and decided to try to double-dip with this race. I hoped it'd be a good gauge for some accurate goals for my upcoming marathon, but I also wanted a new PR.

Spoiler : It was both!

Here's the thing. Every time I sit to write this recap, it gets longer and longer. It was my 9th half marathon. It shouldn't have been such a big deal. But it was. It was a game-changer, for me.

a couple of options for Game Faces, on race day

Overly dramatic? Of course!

Do I care? Nosiree

I fully acknowledge that plenty of magical factors were in place, this particular morning. The weather was optimal, for a road race. I was un-injured and very healthy, all around. The course contains two big bridges, but was otherwise flat and well-marked.

(source)

note: anytime the course map directs you over a big, blue area...assume you've got a bridge to climb

 

The Husband and boys were there to cheer* and I even had some friends from the running group to hang out with before we all started the race. Again, it was a pretty perfect setup. Here's the big difference between this race and all the others, though :

 

I set goal paces for every mile and forced myself to hit them*. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? You set a goal, and don't allow yourself to do anything other than reach that goal. In the middle of a tough race, that sort of logic starts to make less and less sense, though.

 

Number One: Racing Strategy finally "clicked" in my slow brain.

 

Number Two: It. Was. Easy.

 

I'd probably get a lot more admiration for reporting back that I struggled mightily for 13.1 miles, but managed to eke out a PR. Yes, it was hard work. However, it felt good enough that I started getting emotional at mile 5, because I realized, without a single doubt, I was going to blow last year's finishing time out of the water. That's how good this race felt.

 

Another indicator: My final mile was the only one where I slipped off the Goal Pace Wagon...because I couldn't slow down. It was my fastest. I was that really annoying person who sprints by the tired finishers, with tear-filled eyes, head held high and a huge smile.

 

I crossed the finish line, finally securing a shiny PR, and felt like I could've gone and run the entire course, again.

me and my (always faster) friend, Jennifer. No, I don't normally race shirtless. We can discuss, later.

 

By this point you're probably wondering why this post isn't titled: The One Where I Brag and Annoy Everyone.

 

My intent is, of course, to not do either. It was just an "a-HA" race, for me. I share in the hopes that it can help/inspire and also explain why I had the aggressive goals I did for my marathon.

 

1:39:28 Chip Time (1:44:36 in 2012)

(1:38:36 Garmin)

3rd F35-39

30th Overall F

98th Overall

 

As always, thank you for reading. Thank you for commenting, too, even if it's only to yourself. Knowing that there are people to share this kind of stuff with makes it that much more awesome, to me.

 

*In the extended recap, there would be details about vomiting children and how hard The Husband worked to keep everything together, that morning. I'm so thankful for him.

 

*Also included in extended recap, would be those actual mile splits and plenty of other race details



 

 

 

 

 



 

 

Short and (really) Sweet Sunday

So, the good news is : I managed to get a 19 minute PR (personal record) in my 3rd marathon, today!!

The other good news : Ha! I totally tricked you, didn't I?! You thought the good news was going to be followed by bad news. Nope. All good.

my only remaining arm warmer. boo.

 

That time, on that watch, qualified the owner of that arm for the 2014 Boston Marathon.

 

More details than you'll ever want to read are on their way...

Let Me 'Splain

...No, there is too much. Let me sum up:

from where most of my daily speech is derived

 

For every day that passes, without a blog post, the stories just start to build, exponentially. There are so many mundane, boring cool things I want to share! The longer it takes, though, the longer the blog-in-my-brain gets. No one wants to read the accumulation of the last two weeks. Right?

 

Tangent Alert!!

I should take blogging lessons from family members. For example: The Husband. Short, sweet, and to the point. Or I could make my posts extremely clever and awesome,  like my sissy's.  My Aunt, however, is an actual, real, live author so I have marginal chances of competing with her witticisms. Maybe I'll just be more like my dad and take a never-ending hiatus...

 

Anyway... here are a couple of quickie highlights. I sincerely hope to re-cap a couple of things, at length. I'm generally pretty good at following through with those threats plans.

 

I had a really, really, REALLY good half-marathon!!

 

ignore creepy background guy...and my frizzy hair

 

I made a 10-foot ReptileFriend on my latest trail run!!

I would've totally befriended the 4 ft gator, too, but the big one had already started eating him

 

I started working, part-time, with a company I love, doing work I love even more!!

Pretty much sums up "win-win"



 

I'll be running my third and (hopefully) fastest Marathon, this Sunday!!

 

I don't have a photo to include with this. It hasn't actually happened, yet. This is the race, though. I was part of the marathon relay, last year, and stupidly decided to run all of those miles by myself, this time. Woo hoo!!

 

We'll all catch up, soon. You bring coffee or tea (your choice) and I'll bring the ice cream.  

 

What flavor would you like?

 

 



 



 



 

 

 

 

Me + Jeff Gordon = Twins!

Fraternal, obviously.

This is really just a recap of a 5k. The title makes it sound much more exciting, though, doesn't it?! C'mon...would you have been just as excited to read a post called "I Ran a 5k. Read All About It"?

Didn't think so.

This was my first year racing in the Daytona 5k. My brother-in-law's wife picked it out for us, and I'm a pretty easy sell, when it comes to races.

in case you were picturing a scary Race Boss-Lady. She's actually very lovely, all around

 

The race starts on the Daytona International Speedway. It loops around the inside track and finishes on the track. So, the runners are pretty much. somewhat similar to? exactly like the drivers who race on the same Speedway!

 

Also, the race coincides with the Rolex 24, an actual Nascar race, so there were even die-hard fans camped out on the infield to complain about us waking them cheer us on! The concept was pretty cool, but it made for a stressful (for me) parking situation. The Husband drove me, my dad and the boys to the race and handled the poorly-marked signage like a champ.

 

Once parked, my dad and I managed to find a set of port-a-potties with NO LINE and we all hopped on the well-manned Tram to get to the packet pick-up area.

 

It was just under 50 degrees F, which made me ridiculously happy. It's so rare that we Floridians get to race in conditions like that. My high hopes for a PR inched up a notch higher.

 

Our goody bags contained a ticket to the Rolex 24, a couple of race flyers, a shirt and the standard biofreeze sample. I managed to end up with a tee shirt, instead of a tech shirt. This has happened to me before. Not a big deal, but I hadn't complained about anything since the Parking Problem, so I thought it was about time. The race wasn't terribly well-advertised, so I wasn't expecting much in the way of "swag". Despite this fact, over 800 people still showed to up run. Those kinds of numbers are pretty high for our area!

t-shirt proof

 

(I'm still pretty sure some of the participants were Nascar fans who may have wandered away from their campsites and ended up on the track.)

some other cuties who wandered onto the track

 

We found my brother-in-law (Alan) and his wife (Kristi-Anne) (pictured above, for reference) and pinned on our bibs without much time to spare. She'd drawn the short straw and would be pushing their toddler in the race. Alan would get to show off and beat us all, as per usual. This would be my dad's first race in over a year, due to persistent (and REALLY annoying) injuries so we were all pretty ready to start running. There was no time for a warm-up and no water to be found. (too soon for another complaint?), so we hurried over to where we thought the start would be.

 

There was an enormous mass of people that prevented us from even seeing where the start line was located. We saw one guy point in a vague direction and crossed our fingers that we'd see a timing mat, at some point. My dad, Alan and I saw people moving and assumed the race had started. Unsure if it was chip-timed at the finish AND start, I began weaving like a crazylady. The menfolk followed my lead and we eventually made our way out of the throng of racers.

 

While I don't love that sort of cluster at a start, I do have to admit it was pretty fun to pass that many people, once we got moving.

 

About 1/2 mile in, my BIL passed me and I focused on keeping his back in sight. I figured my dad was probably using me as a visual pacing reference, as well. I was feeling very strong, very much in control of my breathing and very confident with him about 30 feet in front of me.

 

And then I heard it. The annoyingly familiar snap-flop sound of my shoelaces, all willy-nilly and free, slapping the pavement.

 

"Aaaaahhh! Are you kidding me?!" 

 

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Brooks : I will give you ten, crisp dollars to fix the laces on these shoes.

Sincerely, Aggravated Consumer

 

In answer to your question : Yes. I always double-knot my shoes. These laces are notorious for coming undone and it was my own fault for not remembering that.

 

I made the agonizing to decision to step out of everyone's way and re-tie the shoe, as I felt it actually slipping off. While I had no qualms about finishing shoe-less, I would've felt awful about someone tripping over it. I didn't stop my watch and saw, later, that I lost over 25 seconds double-knotting (again!) the stupid shoe.

 

I re-focused and re-passed a lot of the racers who'd sped by me while I was crouched in annoyance. Alan, however, was merely a speck in the distance. Undeterred, and knowing I still had a decent chance of placing in my age group, I pressed on. 

 

Then, just after the 2nd mile marker, you'll never guess what happened! (those of you who already know the story, don't spoil it for the others, please)

 

The same, double-knotted, stupid, stinking, good-for-nothing laces came undone. Again. I'm still not at the point where I can think about it and laugh. It was really, really, really annoying and frustrating.

 

In a longer race, I could've made up the time. Not so much in a 5k.

 

This time, however, there was no way I was tying those things again. My gait was wonky, as I fought to curl my speedy foot inside the rapidly loosening shoe, but by golly I was not stopping. As if to taunt me, the laces themselves flew up and smacked me in the calf, repeatedly.

 

"Yoo hoo. We're untied and flopping about wildly!" the jerks teased.

 



Ironic Spoiler: I didn't fall. That happened the next day, with my laces firmly intact.

 

My watch showed 21:55 when I crossed the finish line. Being on the Official Racetrack, and all, I figured that was probably as accurate as a 5k was going to get. There weren't too many women in front of me, so I was pretty happy.

 

Not a PR, thanks to the unruly laces, but good enough to garner me:

 

6th Female, overall

1st Female, 35-39

44th, overall

shiny!

 

My brother-in-law also finished 1st in his division and my dad, 5th. My sister-in-law, in an effort to end the protests of my stroller-bound nephew, flew through the race with a sub-28 minute finish!

me and my fastie daddy. Kinda posing...kinda trying not to roll down the steep bank

 

Alan & I, awkwardly proclaiming our results...and trying not to roll down the steep bank

 

 

The kids race started right on time, which is always awesome. The folks in charge forgot to bring ribbbons to hand out, though. Not quite so awesome.

 

The Littlest, powering through the Finish

The Middlest, leading a cutthroat pack

 

We found some other runner-friends and caught up during the awards ceremony. After I fought my way through the paparazzi, though, to head to the car, I was very sad to discover all the post-race goodies had been packed up and taken away. Missing out on bagels and bananas may have been more upsetting than the lack of a PR, for me.

 

In Summary:

 

• I'd recommend this race. It's a fun and unique experience with a good-sized turnout and smooth organization.
• Don't try to park where you see the giant, well-light "Competitor Parking" sign. It's not meant for you. Drive down the road until you see a small arrow and confusing rows of vehicles.
• I can't guarantee you'll get a tech shirt. If you do, can I trade you?
• If you see me, on the racetrack, steer clear. It's very likely that my shoelaces are untied and I don't want you to trip me us.
• If you see a dark-haired girl, with a adorable-yet-vocal toddler in a jogging stroller, steer clear of her, too. She may run you down in an effort to finish and free him from his restraints.
• When you finish the race, make a beeline for the food tables and just start grabbing. That stuff will be gone before you know it.
• If you get tired, these guys know the perfect place to relax and reflect on the race

Somewere out there, a jealous Nascar fan is dying to have that white paint all over their backside

 

Ever been to a Nascar race?

 

Do you have any tricks for keeping laces tied?