The marathon story

I never consider myself as either an athlete or a runner. My health has been fairly important to me, so I’ve run a little (my max was 5 miles, once) biked a little, danced a little, and walked a lot. My eating habits have been okay, some good food and some not so good. This has kept me in decent shape. I was 115 lbs at 5’1’’ and felt comfortable.

Then two things happened. First, I watch the Olympics. Did you know the winner of the woman’s marathon was 38 year old mother of one? A real woman. A woman who trains very hard and a woman who’s lived. Not a 16 year old adolescent who probably hasn’t seen the outside of a gym in years. There were other impressive stories from the Olympics, including the 41 year swimmer, but for some reason the runner's story affect me. Maybe because I remember living in Australia, sitting on the couch, eating Turkish Pizza, and watching a 40 year old mother of four win the Marathon in the Commonwealth games. This is the type of physical ability we should be celebrating. Men and women who are normal, but impressive.

Then, I saw fleet feet had a 1/2 marathon training specifically designed for four different groups, runners 11 minute and under, runners 11-13 minutes, run/walkers, and walkers. What a great thing for my Mom! She’s retired and has the time to walk 13 miles every once in a while. Of course, when I asked her about it, she suggested I do it too. True to my desire to not be a hypocrite, I signed up as well.  I can’t ask someone to do something I wouldn’t do.  My mom ended up having some medical issues and couldn’t start the training. On day 1, I showed up. My 8 week schedule was handed to me and I freaked.

Yes, I knew I was going to have to do some long runs to prepare for the 1/2 marathon, but seeing those distances on paper was frightening. Somehow it’s easier to say I want to run a 1/2 marathon then I want to run 13.1 miles. The training had one long run, one speed training, and two shorter, easier runs a week. After thinking long and hard (not really) I joined the 11-13 miles group. Hey, I’m not fast. Our first long run was four miles, okay, I can do that, then 5,6,7,8,9,11 and finally 13.1 at the Cowtown 1/2 on October 5th. Crimminey, what did I get myself into? Me, a person who barely runs 3 miles at a time was going to do 13.1. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks and I swore I couldn’t do it.

But, somehow, I kept showing up to the trainings. I wore the right clothes, carried the right “hydration” kit (water and electrolytes), ate the right fuel, and kept on running. After the first few weeks, I found a small group of people that ran at a pace similar to mine and I just kept going. My body began to change. I gained a dress size but I also gained abs (small, but visible), leg muscles, and a slower resting heart rate (for a public health official, that’s important).

The coaches, especially Dusty the specific coach for my group, were awesome. They didn’t care if I finished first or last, although I am sure they would have loved a first place winner, but wanted me to finish  strong, healthy, and uninjured. They yelled about form, fueling, water, and electrolytes. They pushed, supported, and cheered for us.

By the time the Cowtown marathon, I felt good. I felt strong. I felt like I could finish the thing. And guess what, I did. Not only did I finish the 1/2 - I was great.

When the 1/2 began, I had three different goals. No, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. I started out with one goal - to finish. When I mentioned that to my coach, I got an arched eyebrow and smile in return. Smugly, he informed me I was going to finish without a problem. Instead, I needed to pick a time in which to finish. That’s where my three goals come in. One, based off my training pace, one which would take a strong push, and one which would be virtually impossible - under 2:10, 2:05, and 2:00 hours respectively.

On October 5th, I woke up at some ungodly early hour in the morning. The 1/2 started at 7:30 and per my coach's orders, I needed to be there at 6:30 so I could eat, warm up, stretch, go to the bathroom, etc. My alarm screamed at 5:40 while it was still dark outside (an hour before I wake up for work). After a little stumbling, knee bumping, and grimacing, I got my toast and peanut butter in my stomach and my clothes on my body, although it took me some time to figure out how to tie my shoes. Who knows if I should have driven at that early in the morning, but I arrived at the course safely. My coach asked me if I was ready to run and all I could do was look at him and keep myself from yawning. He laughed, gave me a hug, and said I would be fine. I wasn’t so sure, I think I fell asleep for a second in a half when he hugged me.

But, he was right. Completely and totally right (go Dusty). I ran, I finished, I beat my second goal by finishing in 2 hours, 4 minutes, and 23 seconds, and best of all, I was called an athlete and a runner. Me, an athlete and a runner. Incredible.

I have to hand it to the Fleet Feet staff. I’m not sure what they did to me, but they really prepared me well. As evidence, well, I finished. But better than that, I ended up with a great time. As a comparison, over a year ago at the peak of my physical fitness, until now, I ran my one and only five miler in 52 minutes. That’s 10:24 minute mile pace. After the training, I ran 13.1 miles at a 9:30 minute pace. Now that’s what I call improvement.

I’m done now, right? Well, no. I was planning on signing up for the Shamrock’n 1/2 marathon training. My next big run was going to be March 15th, 2009. Instead, some foreign entity invaded my body and signed me up for the California International Marathon training. The foreign entity then left my body forcing me to deal with the consequence of paying all that money for more running. The worse part is I have to show up on Sundays at 7 in the morning. I’m not what one would call a morning person. It’s dark at 7. It’s cold at 7. I’m suppose to run how many miles at 7 in the morning?

Again, I freaked out when I saw the mileage on that paper. However, I began to breath easy after remembering my feelings when saw that first training schedule two months ago. If the Fleet Feet training could prepare me so well for my first run, maybe I should trust them to prepare me for this one.

Am I nervous? Yea. Am I freaked out? Yea. Am I going to hate myself every time the alarm goes of on Sunday mornings? Yea. Am I going to be ready on December 7th? Oh yea. This athlete is looking forward to kicking some butt.