Gusher 2014

So much time has passed since my goal race of winter 2014, that it feels like it was a year ago. It was cold then. I was healthy. But I digress...
It was really only about two and a half moths ago.
All my hard long runs and harder tempo runs led up to a lovely grey morning where I lined up with all of the running friends I had made in the past year and got to race an event I entered the previous one as a wide eyed running newbie.
Ever the conservative racer, I had a plan and stuck diligently to it. I had corresponded via Facebook with the 1:45 pacer (the super fast and accomplished Jorge Guevara) and with his wisdom and leadership I knew I could secure the PR I craved if I kept my head straight.
The first seven miles of the race were great. I was even chatting in the beginning. It was cool and the temperature was dropping. The sun was hidden behind a blanket of clouds and the perfectly flat course made for smooth sailing. My husband (who had not been training for long distance at all) ran the first three miles behind the 1:45 pack. I smugly thought we were leaving him behind with every step. As soon as we passed the mile 3 flag, he loped easily off like a relaxed puppy chasing a ball he halfway wanted to catch. I fought the urge to go after him.
Mile 7-9 wove through downtown Beaumont and it was there that I had a brief burning in my quads. I didn't like it and wondered why they were hurting so early on and in such a flat area. Perhaps it was the turns that forced a bit of stopping and abrupt starting up in a quick succession. I started chomping shot blocks and found relief. I took water at every station, stopping completely to gulp it down and catching back up to the group. It helped.
Before I knew it we were back on MLK (a big highway shut down for the race) headed for the finish. This stretch is infamous for its headwind. So much so, that the race directors held a simultaneous cycling time trial down the middle of it titled 'Heads or Tails Time Trial'. It was really cool to see them flying with and against the wind along side us runners. Mercifully, Jorge is a good foot taller than me. I tucked right behind him and let him absorb the bulk of the resistance. I still felt it, but I could smell the finish and I was getting antsy to make my move.
Back on the homestretch of about two and a half miles to the finish, I began my slow but steady acceleration. I could feel the difference running such a steady pace early on offered. I was tired, but I knew I was ready to go faster.
I abandoned the pacing group and began to go after the two females I could see ahead of me. One was visibly fading. I passed and she didn't care. I know that feeling, but I had no time to consider empathy. I set my sights on the next one. She started with the men at the front of the pack at the beginning of the race. She must have a goal in mind as well. I didn't let myself dwell on the fact that she was so far ahead of me for the bulk of the run. I focused on the fact that she was getting closer. As we passed the 12 mile flag we were side by side. I tried to just pass without it being awkward but she sped up along side me. I let her run ahead a bit but then when the sights became familiar and I knew the finish had to be within a half a mile I left her. I don't even remember it happening-it just became a desperate dash to get the clock to stop. It was so cool to know that the people cheering, the people at the finish, were my friends. A completely heart warming and proud feeling after hanging for 13 miles just to experience this moment of visceral action in the final 2. As I climbed up onto the overpass that leads to the 200m homestretch my dear friend Alissa ran up and told me you're at 1:42! Hurry! Run! I was so happy to see her, so excited to get across that timing mat, that I pushed even harder as she ran next to me. Embarrassingly, as she urged me to get there faster (she knew my goal) and I was simply unable to go any faster I screeched at her, "Alissa, shut up!" and ever the supportive fellow runner, she just kept encouraging and being supportive. She was waiting at the finish line with a group of girls from my workout class and the sweet relief of letting my feet stop their pounding flooded through me.
Afterward, my husband found me and let me know he had managed to pull off 1:38 and third in his age group. I snagged a 1:43 and first in mine! That girl I caught at mile 12 was second in our age group.
I thanked my pacer and hung around and congratulated the many friends and running acquaintances who had pr'd or met new distance goals. It was so communal out there. I waved my signs for the passing buddies who were going the full marathon distance and had another entire loop of the journey I had just concluded in front of them. My husband and I drank our beers and attended the awards ceremony (second team place as well! Go Team Recovery Beer!) and then shivered our way back to the car for the journey home and to pick up our boys and return to parenting duties.
Gusher 2014 was an amazing experience and one I will work to improve upon and appreciate every year. I am so grateful for the race directors, Richard and Amie James, who work their butts off every year to provide Southeast Texas with a full marathon experience and for providing us with an all around classy event to train for and promote fitness in the name of.
After Gusher, I continued to train with vigor and did not allow my body the rest it deserved after a winter of hard running. I ran the Austin 10/20 and had a hamstring issue mid-run...that snowballed into a chronic pain in my lower right leg. After Chiropractor visits, massages, and rest, I went for an MRI.
It showed that I had developed a 'stress reaction' in my right tibia and have been forced to ease up significantly on my running. I am not supposed to be doing any for the next couple of weeks, but I have been sneaking in easy grass runs as my body permits. I've been cycling and doing bootcamp about five days a week, but I am beyond eager to get back into a regular running groove. Life is all about balance, and while I was running like crazy, it was becoming a chore. Now when I taste that old sensation of pushing and discomfort during my forbidden grass runs, it is a blessing. I welcome it. Hopefully this culminates into a stronger, faster, more mature version of a mother runner <3

                             Beginning, middle, end :)

Team Recovery Beer for Second and Mark showing off his 3rd place bling <3

Galveston Half Marathon Recap

I'm deep in the trenches of a busy life. Attempting to keep it together as a mom, oversee homework, slap meals together, and get my running or weight training in while keeping the house just respectable enough to keep my husband quiet. I'm also working on promoting an art show that I am chairing (Beaumont Art League Portrait Show on March 8 :D )  which falls on the same night as the Gusher half marathon I am training for. I'm very excited about these upcoming events, but aware of the amount of time I'm requiring these days for sleep. The more I have to do, it seems, the sleepier I become. I'm a big fan of preventative napping :)
I'll try to keep this recap brief, but I wanted to be sure to document the experience while it is still fresh in my mind.
 Like all races, the Galveston marathon and half marathon had a personality of its own. This was my third half marathon, and I was nervous and excited to test my legs in the novel beach environment. I had been training in groups for most of my important runs and my long runs in particular were faster and longer-a fact that boosted my confidence.
Saturday morning my husband and I packed up the kids and made the 2 hr drive to the island for some pseudo vacation time and to ensure we had at least a couple of relaxed meals together. We hit packet pickup, had lunch, and then turned the boys loose on the beach. We watched in quiet amusement while they frolicked like labrador puppies that had been released from a cage. I envied their purely present joy.

It was beautiful out there. I jogged on the packed sand to loosen my legs up from the past week's workouts. I had not tapered for the race. The plan was to train through and keep this like an important long run. I lifted weights on Friday but did nothing Saturday except for the jogging.
After the beach we headed to our hotel where we were informed that all third party bookings were lost due to an error in their computer system. Bottom line: they were fully booked and we were S.O.L. Mark happened to overhear a conversation about a motel on the seawall that had vacancies, so he quickly called and secured us a place to stay for an amount of money he would not disclose to me. We schlepped our sandy selves down the road to America's Best Quality Inn or something or other. Everything was brand new. So brand new that construction dust still covered everything and the T.V.'s were still being installed. The parking garage was mass grave for outdated plaid or floral print couches and bare mattresses. A perfect situation had landed in the motel owner's lap. Desperate tourists wouldn't complain of the almost finished newness. They'd even pay extra for it. The construction workers were really nice though, and I love the smell of new paint even if it is toxic.
After one more trip into town for an always stellar meal at The Mosquito Cafe, we all clambered in for the night and the menfolk were instantly snoring while I fretted over my playlist, my outfit, etc. Somehow I did end up in a solid sleep.
The next morning, my family dropped me off-presumably to go find a comfy spot from which to cheer me on and boost my spirits. As we lined up for the start, I was happy to see familiar faces from my workout class in Bridge City.  We snapped a few pics and hopped around nervously while we got ready to start. I spotted my friend Randy who I planned to stick with. The national anthem was sung, the countdown was made, and we were off. I spent the first couple of minutes weaving in and out of people looking for my running buddy. After I found him, I waved, and settled in next to him. I felt great. I wanted to run fast, but knew that I needed to kick back and enjoy the ride while I could. We cruised through downtown Galveston and then made our way to the seawall. We ran to the end and turned around to run the opposite way back up the island. There was a slight wind coming off of the ocean, and I tucked in behind my friend and let him absorb it for me. This was the honeymoon phase of my run.

mile 5 or 6 

The humidity flew off my lips as I exhaled, but the clouds I had prayed for kept the temperature cool. Old Tool and A Perfect Circle songs came on my ipod and I got to lose myself a little in the rhythm of the run. After we left the seawall, I foolishly thought we would just traipse around downtown and make our way back to the start. But we kept going. And going. And going. We ran straight until we ended up in a sparsely populated area of beach land. I lost my running buddy at a water stop and worried that I was falling off pace. Luckily, the 330 marathon pace group was right behind then in front of me. It was a large group so I latched on. The heat of such a large group of bodies was radiating off of them. It was like running in a warm, wet,  human scented cloud. I gagged inside of it and I was super embarrassed so I ran off to the side or the behind them for the rest of the race.
Then, as I was really having to come to terms with the fact that I could feel fatigue begin, the blister on the bottom of my foot popped. My foot was squishing around inside of my shoe and I tried to tell myself it was just sweat. A few meters later I had to decide that the cutting sensation on my foot was one I must embrace. I longed for the feeling of being able to run tired, but with feet free of pain. I knew that feeling. This blister shit was for the birds.
Mile 7-9 sucked. Not a desperate suck, just a long, slow, moderate kind of suck. I guess this is what trying to run faster in a half feels like. I listened to my music, pretended the people I was running with were my friends and cared about me. I was feeling sorry for myself. This entire time, I knew at some point I would see my family. My kids would jump for joy and cheer for me. Probably with big signs they snuck behind my back to make. I would be re-invigorated. I would get my third wind.
Nope. Those brats never popped up along the scenery. I began to tell myself I was so focused, I missed them. Finally the mile 10 flag came into view. That was the boost I needed. I could drag myself through any 5k. The course brought us back around into familiar civilization and I felt better just being out of the desolate beach scene. The mile 13 flag finally came into view. I could see the finish, but it was like tunnel vision. It looked so far away. I saw the pacer trade places with a new pacer and I envied him so much even though my salvation was a mere 200 meters away. I just wanted to rest my legs. Then I saw the crowd and told myself, ' this is it! My family is definitely here! I sprinted as much as I could to pass the girl in front of me and to keep the clock from inching forward as it said 1:44 something something...I was hoping for 1:45 or 46 so I was not about to waste my bloody foot on the last 200. My face twisted into a mask of pain I could do nothing about even though I was painfully aware of the cameras, I plowed through both of those timing mats and fell into a pile immediately after.

Crouching, gasping, I waited for my boys to come collect me and carry me off on their shoulders. Nothing. A kind volunteer asked if I wanted water. I nodded and she quickly returned with a bottle. After I gulped much of it down I wandered into the crowd and chatted with comrades. Finally, I was forced to call my husband. They were on the way :/ This was my first time to really have to focus in a race that long while knowingly shredding my foot, so as the elation wears off, some bitterness is definitely beginning to poke through. I was pissed that they missed the whole thing, but proud of myself for pulling it off.
My icing on the cake was that I placed in my age group! 2nd! And I was the ninth female finisher. I felt that much closer to being a big girl runner placing in a distance above 5k (although, the winner in an amazing time of 1:30, was a 13 year old badass-whose sister, 11, also beat me) .
I can race 3 miles, and it's probably the distance I'm most suited for. But learning how to be competitive in 13.1 is a slow process. I'm taking it one chunk at a time. And each morsel is so satisfying. I don't like running long in particular, but I love to run. The sense of accomplishment you get from a finish line that much further away is undeniably heartier.
Instead of waiting in line to check out a printed piece of paper for the results, the organizers of this race offer an additional way to instantly check your stats. You upload a free app on your phone and scan the barcode on your bib. This result screen pops up. The future can be cool sometimes.

We hung around and waited for the awards. I got a bad ass plaque that I did not immediately hang up in my room ;) . Then we ate lunch at the rainforest cafe and the children flipped out and largely ignored me while I sucked down a giant, ridiculously sweet and expensive mojito.

This race was well organized and very well staffed. Some aid stations even had groups of people offering cold, wet paper towels for our heads. The course was beautiful, but I'd appreciate it a lot more if I had an optional golf cart, some beer, and bbq. I wish I had been more mentally prepared for the lonely stretch of no man's beach. Next year I'll be ready for it. Knowing the course is always a bonus in a race.
The post race scene was awesome. Everyone was friendly, the food was great, there was even an adorable dolphin was walking around...I will definitely return. Plus, I adore Galveston. The island has a palpable vibe of happiness that I never get tired of soaking up.

Unabashed giddiness

My friends from Orange County Fitness, my running catalyst <3

Sharing my marriage with running

If you judged my marriage based on my facebook posts you might assume I was a.) madly in love and walked around with butterflies flitting around my head while blue birds chirped on my shoulder, or b.)   full of shit and overcompensating for the fact that we actually scream and throw plates at each other during dinner in front of our horrified children.

Thankfully, neither is true. I just tend to lean towards positive posts on the FB and I am married to such a cool guy that I have no shortage of goo goo gaa gaa thoughts in my head. Also, he works in 12 hour shifts so I have the opportunity to miss him a lot. The second he isn't hanging out with me his sweetness shines.

I realized, though, that I don't often feel compelled to post about the long arguments we have about nothing. Or how we temporarily fall out of love and become angry teenage boys fighting in the locker room.

How we are both always right. We are both smarter than the other. We are both trying to teach the poor other dummy something.
This results in some animated and loud debates about a variety of topics. Spirituality and religion used to be the regular, but more frequently these days- it's running.

So it's a little of both. We are in love. We do lapse into disgusting conversations about how lucky we are to be sharing our lives when it seemed so unlikely until it happened. We marvel at how perfectly suited we are for each other--we both play guitar ( he is much better than me, but I'm pretty OK) and sing badly (I insist that he's slightly worse than me), we both love to live as enthusiastically as possible, being happy, and laughing and making fun of each other and the people around us (usually our kids), and we both love to run. I didn't know I loved it until recently. He always let me know running was a talent of his. I was never in real shape and couldn't appreciate what that meant. I just tucked it away in my mental file of Mark's Cool Points.

When I did get in shape and began experimenting with running, Mark naturally joined me. At first I was the eager student, asking him for advice on everything I did and taking it all to heart and following it to a T. I thought about his advice while I ran every run as fast as I could through the hood. I did my first 5k on his 'training'. It was a small race, and I didn't run fast -but I lucked out and got to be the first female. It was a very exciting way to run one's first 5k, but I was left feeling guilty for running so timidly. After that race I started doing research on how to train for 5k and began to realize Mark's advice was not ideal (to be polite) and he wasn't even following it! He ran a PR for the same race and was really vocal about it. I felt sulky. He hadn't shared his interval training with me. It would have helped immensely to have practiced running fast while tired to prepare for how the end of a race feels.

Now, he wasn't trying to give me bad advice.  He just didn't know what worked for me, like I hadn't learned what worked yet either. I was a complete newbie learning how to run. I just have the bad habit of trying to compete with my husband. It's completely involuntary. I know I'll never run as fast or be as strong as him, but I want to be as close as possible. That won't ever change. I think it can even be a good thing. We make each other want to be better. However, as a hormonal woman, ( I think 30's are the worst, as my remaining fresh eggs are demanding to be used) when I feel like I'm being taunted by his superiority, ( like the time I ran half of a local 5k ecstatic to be in third place overall and Mark passed me with 1 mile to go pushing OUR KID IN A STROLLER)  it incites anger and desire to conquer the unconquerable.

When I asked him how he trained in high school I learned that he ran cross country, but his success was in the 800. This is where I decided he was a terrible coach and we went off on our separate running ways. We have been arguing about different training methods ever since. Sometimes at the dinner table. In front of our poor confused kids who probably think a sad grown up world awaits them where all there is to do is fight over who's better at practicing something as simple as running.

He pretty much only runs hard workouts. I run hard and easy. He's fearless and will literally run until he sees stars. I am conservative and only let it all hang out when I feel strong enough to. Usually after a lot of preparation. Our mileage is much different. As are we.

It's also a constant time battle. We have to take turns running since we are parents and if workouts go long on a weeknight, it can cause tension. He runs fewer days, but his warm ups last forever and he can be out there for two hours. It makes me crazy. While I understand he's having fun, I want him for myself sometimes. Of course the next day when he's fully available-I have to get out there.

But, after we go in circles about how best to prepare for whatever or who has been gone the longest- we make up. We point out how much time we can waste arguing about nothing and we re-align ourselves back into the position of allies. Before running came along, that's how we dealt with the relationship problems of two people building and starting a life together (complicated by the fact I left Austin and my family for a small town in SETX) being new parents and newly wedded humans. Ultimately, that's what will keep us friends as long as we both want to be. Two people who share a life and have very different personalities but very similar interests have to maintain and stand up for their unique perspectives. It's his easy going but passionate approach to everything that my maybe too-diligent personality loves. We fight because we know our differences are interesting and without them we would stagnate and not learn from each other. Which is ultimately what happens. The learning. I'm loathe to admit it, but I do try to apply some of his crazy advice sometimes, and I secretly attempt to be more open and loving because it looks so good on him.

Now that we've both gotten in a kind of groove and I've built a bit of an aerobic base, we can run together and enjoy it. Previously he would run too fast and I would quietly suffer out of pride and then pick a fight with him afterwards about not sticking to our pace plan. But I can keep up better now that I run twice as much each week.
He still runs way less, but much faster :/

In the groove. At the same time! :D
Photo by David Lisenby