Marathon Monday Memory - 2008

Brain surgeon. Veterinarian. Artificial intelligence engineer. All things I wanted to be when I grew up.

Never did I imagine being an athlete. I played the occasional sport, did well, but never excelled or even dreamt of excellence.

So now I find myself two years into a far-fetched plan to qualify for the Olympic Trials.

It started in Boston, 2008: My second marathon would be the fabled trek from Hopkington to downtown Boston. I had watched the race as an ignorant spectator in 2004, so I remembered the energy of the event.

But this year was even more electric. The women's olympic marathon trials would be on a criterion course (essentially a loop course), making it great for racers and watchers.

I was so pumped to watch this race. Even though my race would be the next day, I spent several hours going from spot to spot on the trials loop. I watched Magdalena Lewy-Boulet take an early lead and hold it for much of the race. I stopwatched the gap from her to Deena Kastor, and was one of many who told Deena the deficit as the race went on. I saw Deena take the lead with just a few miles to go, watched her victory lap with the American flag, shook her hand.

I also saw women who didn't look that much different than me, but who ran at least 45 minutes faster. Even though they weren't in contention for one of the three Olympic slots, they were almost definitely having one of the most memorable races of their lives.

And I wanted that feeling, that experience. I wanted to know I was one of the 180-odd women in the country fast enough at this retarded distance to say, I made the B-standard and ran in the Olympic Trials.

Oh, I want it. I want it like most people want a million dollars — they won't die without it, but life would be awfully great with it.

And, quite frankly, my lifetime chances of running a 2:47 marathon are probably considerably better than me having a million dollars.

So here we go. Another sixth marathon season behind me, a seventh coming up in the fall.

Race report - Shamrock Marathon

This was my first attempt at waking up uber-early before a marathon to try and eat more. So at 3:45 a.m. I was eating Kashi cereal with soymilk, followed Clifbar that I ate with the lights turned back out because I really didn't want to be awake.

At 5:15, I rolled out of bed and took a quick shower. Easy way to wake up and loosen up the muscles. And prevent my bedhead from frightening small children.

I started sipping Gatorade at that point, and ate another Clifbar at 6:30. Quite frankly, I don't want to eat another one for a while. Okay, maybe like another week.

We got to the race area fairly easily, found a place to park, and walked over in time to see the 7 a.m. half marathon start. Yep, that's right. The half marathoners start an hour earlier, and run just the north loop of the figure-8 course. So the marathoners got to see some of them coming back toward the finish as we went out, but it meant most of them were off the course by the time we got to about mile 20.

We did the first of several bathroom stops, wandered around a little bit since the marathon started a few blocks away, and started warming up around 7:20. Gear bags checked and two gels wedged into shorts pockets and two into my sports bra, some striders, etc. The volunteers kept telling us we needed to clear the course in front of the start line ... which makes sense if you're not running the race. If you are, I think that block in front of the start is warm-up land, and cheerfully ignored the directions to move.

A little known fact: hearing the national anthem playing makes me want to barf. Not in an I-hate-America way, but in the "oh crap, I actually have to go through with this" way.

Marathon starts are bizarre. You all line up knowing there are 26 miles in front of you, and still a bunch of people will floor it across the line (who we all know do not need to be going that fast). Then at mile three you catch up to them and have to listen to their labored breathing. Gross.

So the first part of the figure-8 course, which incidentally is sort of how we run most of our long runs anyway, was the south loop. This includes the lone hill of the course, a freeway overpass maybe 100 meters long and with about 20 feet of climb. Yes, they consider that a "hill." It's marked on the elevation map ... which is roughly 20 feet above sea level for most of the race. The overpass is 40 feet above. Ha!

Miles 1-6: 7:02, 7:04, 7:02, 7:05, 7:05, 7:00

Mentally I was preparing to split this race into segments at 5k, 10k, half and 18 ... and just kind of wing the last part. You don't really know what will happen from about 20 on, so I had several plans loosely tied to that part of the race.

For the first 5k I wanted to average about 7:10. Whoops. Then 7:05 for the next three miles through the 10k.

Not a whole lot to look at on the south loop, some trees, the outside of the aquarium, Camp Pendleton, a giant gorilla.

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/attract/images/va/VAVIRgorilla_burk.jpg

Between miles 5 and 6 there's a turnaround, so Pete and I were able to get a girl head-count. I was in 11th, with that pack of women running together and then the rest spread out. Perfect. It didn't look like a group where I could crack top five, but top 10 seemed likely.

Miles 7-13: 6:58, 6:59, 6:59, 6:59, 7:00, 6:58, 6:57

South loop cuts through some other side streets, I don't even really remember much in there. Got us away from the marathoners still coming out, who were using their lane and ours, which resulted in me telling them to scoot over. And we got to cheer for pace groups, which I like doing. Early on, the 3:10 group was huge ... and one of my objectives was to not get passed by the 3:10 group. And the 3:20 group seemed to be going out too fast.

We cut through Camp Pendleton for mile 8, where we catch one girl and get passed by another. There are a lot of troops out cheering and manning a water station, which gives you a really interesting opportunity to say both thank you for serving and thank you for keeping me hydrated.

Back over the hill at mile 10, then up the boardwalk for a mile. The boardwalk is not my friend. It was very sunny and very windy and very lacking in a water stop. I was already starting to notice the heat.

The wind on this stretch started rustling — loudly — another guy's bib. I looked over and said, "You know, if you crumple that up, it won't make that noise."

"Well," he said, "I hang them all up in my cubicle at work so I want to keep it nice. I'm a dork like that."

Yes, yes you are. And now I have to listen to it for another 13 miles? It looks more authentic crumpled anyway.

Half split was 1:33, wanted to go through in about 1:32, so we will take that as good.

Miles 14-19: 7:01, 7:03, 7:04, 7:11, 7:37, 7:17

The first part of the north loop was straight sun again, and slightly uphill for five miles. Just significant enough to realize you are running straight into the sun, uphill, and on a seemingly never-ending road. Until mile 19 it is all the same road, no turns. And, water at 13, 14.5, 16, 17.5 ... Now, listen. Give them to me in consistent intervals. I can't figure out that they are every mile-and-a-half in the middle of a race. I could have looked before, but I didn't, so sue me. Just put them every mile or every other mile. Whatever.

Around mile 16 the long road bends left a little, ducking onto what seems to be a highway but at least has shade. My stomach decides to revolt. Same thing happened at Boston last year ... am furtively trying to figure out the cause. Didn't happen at Marshall, and used the same gels there that I used at the other two.

I send Pete on his way, walking through the water stop at 17.5, I think. Sometimes the walking and the water intake makes my stomach behave.

I see a girl dropping out of the race, sitting in the back of a truck.

I trudge along. I am bored. This is always my least favorite part — the black hole that is miles 16-20. Someone please shoot me.

Oh, did I mention it is something close to 70 degrees at this point?

Finally, at mile 19, we turn off Shore Drive. Thank God.

And into Fort Story. A seemingly empty military base. Holy crap. Really? Well, at least you can see the ocean over to your left. If you can be bothered to turn your head that much.

Miles 20-26: 7:43, 7:16, 7:38, 7:47, 7:33, 7:50, 7:13

After walking through the water stop at 19, I start talking to three guys who are running together. All are fairly young, two of them are friends, the third just a hanger-on like me. That fellow tells us he hasn't run more than eight miles ... Oh crap. We didn't see him for long.

They all introduced themselves, which I found funny. One, I've been running for almost three hours. I really don't care what your name is. Two, if I did care, it's on your bib number.

The two friends are one first-time marathoner being encouraged (also known at mile 20 as "dragged along") by his friend. There's another water stop at 21 just waiting for me to walk through it, then I catch up with the faster and more experienced of the two friends and keep trudging along.

Nearing mile 22 I see Pete. Which I had not expected to do. I had set him up perfectly, all he needed to do was maintain pace and coast on in, and he had looked great at 16. He did not look great now.

I yell at him.

"Crawford, loosen up those arms!"

Ahead of me, he shrugged, clearly replying with, "Whatever, Tracy."

"Fuck marathons," he said when I caught up to him a few seconds later.

I nod in agreement. Then do some loose math to remind him 8 minute pace for the next four miles will get him his BQ. Pete doesn't even run that slow on recovery days. Piece of cake.

Unfortunately the last four miles of a hot marathon are like a really big, really rich piece of cake. Sometimes you just can't eat it, no matter how much you really, really want to do it.

We trudge along together for not even a quarter mile before Pete tells me to go on, he'll catch up. I take that as my cue to leave him alone.

When we exit Fort Story, we are back on Atlantic Avenue, and the cross streets are numbered blocks. For the record, realizing you have at least 30 more blocks to go is really depressing. Somewhere in here the faster of the 3:10 pacers catches up to me, and I try to hold him off to no avail. He had no runners with him though ... but he did cross the line just ahead of me, so probably in about 3:10 even. Strange because he had a huge group with him early on -- maybe it really was as hot as I keep saying it was, and maybe I should feel pretty good about how I did.

Anyway, the second pacer starts to catch me farther down, and he is cajoling another guy the whole time. The guy was running about 15 feet behind the pacer and clearly fading, but being buoyed by remarks like, "Do you want to go to Boston? If you want to go, THIS is where you prove it. This is the mile."

Which buoyed me along, too, and I left them when we made the first of two turns to get back on the boardwalk. The second turn puts you directly in sight of the finish, and it is loud and crazy and I am so damn elated that it is almost over.

Because I was only the 69th person to finish, there weren't many other runners on the boardwalk. In fact, other than the pacer in front of me, there wasn't anybody right near me that I recall. So in a surreal moment, I not only pose for the camera with my hands in the air, but the photographer puts down the camera and calls out, "Great job." Weird.

My watch figured .4 miles for the last segment, and by god I averaged 6:30 pace for all of that piece, thank you very effing much.

They may have called my name over a loudspeaker, but I may be making that up. I talk to the faster pacer for a minute, then congratulate the other pacer and the runner that he helped drag along -- who made the BQ time.

End result: 3:10:11, an almost two-minute PR, for eighth female.

I stand around watching for Pete for a few minutes, then slowly start meandering through the finish area.

I get some goodies, including a hat, long sleeve shirt and snacks. Talk to a girl on the sidelines about my KT tape. Wander to bag check. Still no Pete. Get both bags. Regret not putting sandals in bag.

Sit on bench. OHHHHHH sitting is good. Eventually, see Pete, who ran 3:26 after a very ugly last four miles.

Okay. Tired of writing. Maybe post-race stories later.

Virginia trip, part 1

My running pal/relay teammate/New Balance benefactor Pete and I were the two people embarking on the Shamrock trip. Pete lives in Lexington (about an hour away), but we were flying out of Louisville. Early. He picked me up at 5 a.m. Friday, which gave us plenty of time to catch our 6:50 a.m. flight.

Usually Louisville's quaint airport (technically two terminals, but really just two hallways) is pretty desolate that early in the morning, but there were spring breakers clogging up everything. In fact, our plane contained both elementary AND high school groups. Yippee!

Anyway, it made the tiny security checkpoint slower than a three-legged dog in the snow. And it really confused them why my boarding pass only had my last names on it, no first name. Now, listen, that is not my fault. I didn't design the damn ticket. You want me to have more names on it, talk to the kiosk. Or whatever.

Pete's prototype 759s (due out in May -- check them out!) were pulled for a check at security, although mine were not. Who knows. I remarked maybe nitroglycerin wasn't the best cushioning choice after all.

Our flight was a short trip over to BWI, during which I fired up Cassidy (my gfr 405) so we could see how fast and how far we were going. It kept dropping the signal, which I didn't understand ... since I was closer to the satellite than I usually am. We had virtually no layover at BWI; they were beginning to board as we got to the gate.

I left my book on the first plane (hopefully the next person in that seat loves chick-lit), so I ended up wasting a lot of time complaining about breakfast (well, the lack thereof) and looking at SkyMall. I weighed the relative merits of purchasing a group of garden meercats versus purchasing a garden Yeti. Tough decision — and since they live in very different natural environments, you really can't have both. That would just be unrealistic.

We landed in Norfolk at 9:30 or so, picked up the rental car — a Mazda R3 with about 50 miles on it — and headed to a breakfast place called Citrus, recommended by a local on the flight. Delish. Pete had eggs benedict, a nice normal-person sized breakfast. I couldn't make up my mind ... so I ordered everything. Enter The Lynnhaven: hash browns or grits, pancakes or french toast, sausage or bacon, and two eggs however you want 'em. For $7.

To kill time, we attempted to find the touristy part of Virginia Beach, but no dice.

N(touristy) + N^2 = e(pic)^fail

We drifted around for a bit, found the expo but had to wait for it to open. People were actually lining up to get in. We sat at a table and waited; the full only had a thousand people so the odds of us needing to rush in were nil. Packet pickup was easy enough, although oddly organized. At one table you got your bib, once you figured out the right spot, and you had to remember to actually get your own safety pins. You had to have a signed waiver and identification with you. Which was sort of funny, because I gave the volunteer my waiver and my ID, and then she asked my name to verify I was getting the right bib. Clearly we both know my name, assumed or otherwise, at this juncture.

Then off to a different room to figure out which area is the marathon shirts. I got an XS tech long sleeve ... made by Brooks, a company who notoriously vanity sizes apparel. So really it fits like a medium. Why are there never shirts that fit? In the land of marathoning females, I am not that small!

Our hotel, the lovely Sheraton Norfolk Waterside (great all-around, definitely recommend), got us checked in before lunch. Lovely rooms; Sheraton currently has my vote for best blankets. I thought the duvet might suffocate me, but in a nice expensive duvet way. There was no scratchy comforter, which I always throw immediately onto the floor, and the pillows were excellent. Only complaint was that there was free wi-fi in the lobby, but not in the rooms. Apparently that is standard in nice hotels, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

We roamed downtown Norfolk for a bit, got lunch at Schlotzky's Deli, and went back for naps. We threw in an easy four miler in the afternoon, then hit the Outback Steakhouse next door for dinner. Then I proceeded to sleep for 11 hours — hey, they say two nights before is the important night for sleeping and I was happy to comply.

Saturday we visited Running Etc. in Norfolk, a nice store with lots of stuff and a cool layout. We had lunch at The Green Onion — definitely a trip highlight. It was sunny and 70, so we read outside for a while and generally acted like bums. We found a Cheesecake Factory for dinner, and that was pretty much the end of the non-race portion of the trip.

Race report to follow.

Spring training: Week 3

Alright, alright, this one is being posted way late. Whoops. Finally back on track and feeling good, mileage-wise, so the weather goes down the drain. A craptastic week.

Didn't run Sunday because ... because ... I didn't feel like it. I laid around all day watching movies instead. And then spent the rest of the week feeling guilty.

Monday I went to tackle my long run, but after seven miles on roads covered in snow and ice, and topped with sand, I gave up. A couple hours later I hit the treadmill to knock out the other 10 miles, which was fine. I believe that was the day I spent most of my treadmill time watching a History Channel show on the Kennedy family. All of them.

It wasn't until Thursday that the roads actually cleared and we could really run. Note my consistent 7:50 pace much of the week. Those days averaged a 150 heart rate, which is about 73% of my max HR. That's fairly low, just a smidge over the 145 bpm or so I use for recovery runs. Which means two things: I'm getting fitter and that I'm not trying very hard. Hello, slacker.

Spring training: Week 2

Just as I had started to forget what cumulative fatigue feels like, it comes creeping in on the coattails of a 65-mile week. And 20 of those were on the treadmill. After Sunday's long run, we survived a recovery run on the trails on Monday and 12 outside on Tuesday. Then I cracked. My chapped face and permafrosted fingertips demanded a break.

Into the gym I went. I logged my longest-ever treadmill run, 11 miles, on Wednesday. Back outside on Thursday and then back inside Friday for 9 miles with 4 miles of tempo. Pretty good heartrates, weight is back down and such.

Ten more weeks. Over and out.

Spring training: Week 1

Am not in shape to hit 60 miles already. Especially not when it's 15 degrees outside every day.

Temperatures dropped throughout the week, as everyone probably noticed. Nice run on Tuesday ... and no run on Wednesday. I ran outta steam. It was cold and dark and everyone was gone. Thursday it was a little warmer but windy, then the weather went to pot.

Sunday we executed a nice Magic Schoolbus Run™ - I ran to Rebekah's, she and I ran to Eileen's, then the three of us ran about 7 miles before dropping off Eileen. Then back to Rebekah's and two miles back to my place. Not bad, pace-wise, 7:40 average and HR average 158.

Back to work

Monday was day 1 of my 12-week Pfitzinger training program. I'm not sure we are entirely settled on Shamrock, but it's the earliest of the options so figured I should get back on it. This will be a roughly 60-mile week, not including Sunday's 17 miles with 8 at marathon pace. Ouch.

More exciting is the inaugural midnight New Year's run here in Louisville. Titled the "2k10k" this year, it will loop around the fabulous Seneca and Cherokee parks. It's not a race -- partially because we just decided to do it on Sunday -- but could certainly turn into one in the future. Turnout probably won't be huge, but it'll be fun!

Does put me in an interesting spot for doubling, though. I'm going to run this afternoon, then again eight hours later, then again sometime Friday.

Week in summary to follow on Saturday.