Ah, the perils of the last week before the half marathon were many–including a sharp, stabbing pain in both of my feet. I went to a therapist, and he generally confirmed my assessment: broke-ass feet. Plain and simple. Flat feet that cause a chain reaction in which my body implodes on itself. He gave me some spongy arch supports and exercises and sent me on my way. The arch supports hurt, but I’m trying to work into them. Of course, he thought I could wear them right away–he knows not the power of my convex arches–mwahhahaaa! [forshadowing]

So, the travel approached and away we went to San Francisco–and all throughout, I just had in the back of my mind that I wanted it to be over–the training, along with everything else that has happened over the past five months, had pushed me to the brink. Not to mention the fact that I am a very controlling person–in the sense that I seethe when I see inefficiency–I want to fix it, but instead I just seethe because I can’t. Planes are late, people are unorganized and confused. 8,000 people are especially unorganized and confused. Such is life.

And then came Sunday, and that cold San Francisco morning in Union Square. I searched for the slow, slow group and found it blocks away from the finish line in a funnel of freezing wind. We stood there for 30 minutes. All the time I was thinking, ‘Just start! I gotta finish!’–finally nearing the starting line at 7:30, I realized that in no uncertain terms I had to use the bathroom. After months of training, my hydration would be my undoing. I thought I would stop at the first line of port-o-potties and just get it over with–the lines were 20 deep, and after waiting for about 10 minutes, the sweepers began to approach. I gave up, and continued. I finally found another bathroom with a shorter line around mile three, and it was a disgusting experience. I will leave it at that.

On I went–the first five miles were good–I was on pace, moving along, and the crowd was very energetic and supportive–high fives, thank yous, waves and people in costumes. I passed the Golden Gate Bridge, and then it happened. The hills began. Now, I wasn’t diluting myself by trying to run up these hills as fast as possible–slow up, fast(er) down is my strategy. It went well–but then the aching in my feet began, specifically my arches–like walking barefoot on baseballs. It did not stop. Soon, I began to delude myself into believing that I’d missed mile markers ‘Surely, I must be on the next mile–this can’t possibly still be mile six…oh dear God…approaching mile seven…sweet heaven, what masochistic son-of-a-*)*^% measured this course!’

This was pretty much the rest of the race. I sadly kept telling myself that the bright side was that the pain in my feet likely wouldn’t get any worse, because, of course, it was already excruciating. People on the course kept cheering us on, and it really did keep me going–though at the silent points of the course, I found myself tearing up a bit at the enormity of everything that had happened–it is a very emotional experience–you move beyond the physical pain to the psychological.

As I approached the end of the race (though…it seems wrong for me to call it a “race” really…more like a journey) I recalled the pasta party the night before.  John “The Penguin” Bingham gave a great pep talk, and one thing he said resounded with me as I passed mile 12.  He said, the most profound part of the marathon is not when you finish–but when you realize you are actually going to finish.   Of course, everyone goes into the race intending to finish, but things can always happen–you get hurt, dehydrated, or you just can’t go on.  But at mile 12, I knew that I would finish.  It was indeed profound.

I crossed the finish line in 4 hours and 8 minutes.  Definitely not the fastest, but not the slowest either.  After that, it was a flurry of activity–people handing me my (well earned) Tiffany medal, a finisher’s t-shirt (pink!), a banana (thank God), a silver blanket (unnecessary–it was quite warm) ,  and granola and yogurt (eww).  I checked in at the TNT tent, grabbed a pile of food and stretched, and eventually my husband found me and we limped to the shuttle bus back to the hotel.  I was in pain, but I couldn’t stop smiling–after everything, it was done.  I can rest.

Last week was a good running week as well–I ran 4 times during the week, and my hip only tweaked a little bit. So, naturally, I tried to go faster this Monday–and throw in some strength training. Yep…I got cocky. Now, I was only doing a 5/1 ratio on Monday, with a 3.1 mph/4.5 mph pace (like I said, I’ll worry about speed later). Sufficed to say, it was too much for Mr. Snooty-hip. So, in addition to being swamped with work, my hip is stiff this week. And the 10-12 miler is coming up ahead this Saturday–the last long run before the blessed taper. We’ll see how that goes–but, it’s nice not having to worry too much about time–I want to enjoy myself. I’ve only been to San Francisco once, and I want to check out the sites.

But, even though I’m looking forward to the event, I think I’m looking even more forward to being done with training. I wanted to become a runner, and it will be nice to be able to choose to run because I enjoy it, not because I have to–I also want to build my speed and strength in the long run, and I’m getting impatient on that front (as you just read)–I know I have to stay slow now if I’m going to survive the long runs. So, dear readers, as I sit here with an ice pack on my hip and dreaming of a foggy San Francisco Bay, I hope you feel better about yourselves knowing just how slow I am compared to you

I wrapped it around my arches on both feet (it’s not very sticky, so you have to stick it to itself) and it performed perfectly. It didn’t come loose, and so it didn’t slide around–no friction, no blisters. Awesome.

I know this method may not work for you, but what it’s taught me is to just keep trying–after exploring the topic, I’ve only scraped the surface of what runners do to prevent blisters–no one thing works for everyone; some say Vaseline, others say it’s the worst thing possible. Some say moleskin, but obviously, that didn’t work for me. Just remember–friction is what causes the painful little suckers, so stop the friction and you stop the source.

On the schedule was an 8-10 mile run, and I ended up doing 6.  My hip was starting to tweak a bit, and I didn’t want to overdo it–but I did run longer intervals, because the run was shorter–1 running:1 walking.  I’m sure it’s because I was indoors in the oh-so-pleasant air conditioning.  I still ended up with a 17 minute mile pace, which makes me think that I probably run faster when I’m outdoors, based on those times.  That could be a good thing and a bad thing–it may be why I keep tiring out by about mile 10–I’m going too fast, and I don’t have a good sense of my pace.  Something to work on in the future.

Next week is a 6-8 mile run, and after that the 10-12; then, the most blessed of things: the taper.  I’m confident I can do it–I did my 2.1 miles today, and with some extra stretching and Ibiprofin therapy will keep my shoulders from tightening and hence preventing my sidelining migraines.  I’m starting to look forward to the actual event again, rather than approaching it with dread.  It’s a very good feeling–I might end up a runner after all!

Given the crippling pain in my hip last long run, I was glad that it was a ‘short’ run on Saturday, 8-10 miles.  I went for the 8 to be on the safe side, and actually making my intervals slower, 30 seconds running/1:30 walking.  Going into the run, I was still waffling between going for the marathon and the half marathon.  The marathon was looking more and more like an unapproachable goal to me–I was (an am) hurting, and, bottom line, I am SLOW.  I wouldn’t mind finishing the marathon with an embarrassingly slow pace–heck, I’d stay on the course 11-12 hours if I could.  Problem is, after 8 hours, they’re going to take me off the course; and if I don’t finish the marathon after all of this training, frankly, my rage could take out much of the San Francisco Bay area.  Not a good thing.

The half marathon, on the other hand, is something I’ve done twice already in training, and therefore seems more realistic.  And, there’s much less of a chance of me hurting myself.  So, with all of this cycling through my tired brain, I went a-running.  It was surprisingly cool outside, and we started from a different location, so the change of scenery was refreshing.  About three miles in I was suddenly struck by the fact that I was only competing with myself.  It was the best run I had experienced in a long time.  Even though my hip was starting to twinge again toward the end, and my hamstring was tight, I felt really good.  I finished with about a 17 minute mile pace, slow and steady.

I will do the half marathon.  I’ll be slow, but I’ll finish it, and I’ll cheer my teammates into the finish line.  I will still have accomplished something I never thought possible before, and I will have raised money and awareness to cure blood cancer.  There’s only a down side if I create one.  I’ll do a marathon someday–when I’m a bit stronger and a bit faster–and if you’re still interested, I’ll be blogging about it.

First, I signed on to the early start group for the marathon, which seemed to take some pressure off of me.  This give me 8 hours to finish instead of 6.5.  However, it does mean that I will be walking for the first 6 miles of the marathon.  So, on Saturday, I wasn’t concerned with my time–I’ve come to accept that I am not fast.  Not by any stretch of the imagination.  I went into the run thinking, ‘take your time, and you’ll finish’–this however, was not quite the case.

Like most of my runs, it went ok for the first 11-12 miles.  Then the blisters started (despite the use of moleskin, band-aids, and body glide, nothing stops the blisters).  And, all of a sudden, I felt a twinge in my right hip.  Interesting, I thought–haven’t been hurt there yet.  I figured it was a cramp, and stretched a bit, took it slow, but it didn’t help.  My hip deteriorated to the point where it just really hurt.  Then ever so often the hurt would suddenly get worse, like it was being hit with a baseball bat.  Not a major leaguer, mind you, but it was enough.  I slowed to a crawl, and then my left calf tightened into a knot.  At mile 15, my coaches picked my carcass up.

It’s Sunday now, and I’m still hurting.  And tired.  Since the run I’ve slept about 16 hours, on and off.  I’m seriously starting to consider switching to the half marathon.  I don’t know why that feels like a failure–it’s still a very long run, and I still will have raised money and awareness for LLS.  I just want to be able to continue running–I want this to be a good experience, and it’s slowly becoming torture.

I don’t want to discourage anyone reading this–if you are going for the marathon goal, know that there will be good days and bad days–but for me, all I’ve seen are bad days in recent memory.  I started from a base of nothing, and I really think I may need more  time to really develop good running condition.  Above all, you have to know yourself–I’m hurting, and I don’t want this hurt to be permanent–I wasn’t a runner before this, but I want to be a runner after.

I didn’t run again until Friday, 25 minutes, 1.52 miles.  I had every intention of heading out on Saturday to the 8-10 mile run, but a night of absolutely wretched sleep (I approximate I got about an hour) and the constant aches and pains cumulated in a breakdown at about 4:15am.  I was actually sobbing, because I knew I couldn’t do it—and it felt like a failure.  I went back to bed.  The sleep still wasn’t good; for some reason I just felt electrified, while at the same time miserably tired, and I spent most of Saturday exhausted.  I did however decide it was time for some muscle therapy, so I booked a massage (finally) for the knot I’ve had in my hamstring for two weeks.  That was a great help—the massage therapist confirmed that I had a lot of tension in my hamstrings and feet, and gave me some stretches to try. 

Today, however, I’m realizing that I really needed to take a short break from running.  This morning I work up, after having actually slept, and I wasn’t exhausted or sore.  I know that marathon training isn’t a spring stroll, but I was starting to actually dread training.  The treadmill was becoming a source of trepidation for me—where I used to be able to convince myself to just stop fussing and run, it became increasingly difficult to get going in any way, shape or form.  It gave me a sense of anxiety, rather than accomplishment.  But after just a short break, I feel like I’m starting new—yesterday I was doubting I could continue—today is a far sight better. 

I think this next week of training will be better—I’m not dreading it anymore, and next Saturday’s distance of 14-16 miles doesn’t seem as frightening as it did yesterday. 

Then Saturday rolled around again–and again, it ended badly. The distance was 12-14, so I chose 12, thinking it would be an ‘easy’ day–hey, I’d already done 14! We took a slightly different route, which took us through a nice neighborhood with some hills, which I enjoyed. But, (oh, yes, there’s a but) about 3 miles from the end, I think I hit the proverbial “wall”–I was tired, and in a lot of pain. Everything was aching–my ankles, calves, knees, quads and back. But what hurt the most were my feet. After a while I just had to walk–and even that was painful. Some steps made my eyes tear up. It was not good. In the middle of this, I was at my wits end–I thought “I can’t do this”–I found myself wishing to break something so I could stop. I was in bad shape. I finished in 3 hours and 42 minutes, about what it took me to finish the 14 miles.

I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong lately, since I’ve never had long runs quite so bad–sure, they’re not all happy puppies and flowers, but wishing your foot would break so you can stop indicates something is not right. I think I’m eating and drinking enough–I eat salt and drink Gatorade at the aid stations. The only thing different lately is the addition of the hill training and speed training. I think maybe it’s too much for my slow self–it may be tiring myself out. I may try a week off and see how the next long run goes. I may also change my intervals back to 30 seconds:1 minute. Both of my bad runs were at the new 30:45 second ratio. Hey, the old ratio may have given me a slow 16-minute mile, but that’s better than I’ve been doing.

So, when I got home on Saturday, defeated, I took a sad ice bath and tried to recover a bit. I actually went and mapped my run online, and it gave me a total of 12.88 miles. That made me feel mildly better–a 17.23 mile instead of an 18.5 minute mile. A small victory, but I will take it. After some changes, we’ll see how I do next week.

I keep telling myself this, because Saturday’s run was not in the good category.  The plan was 8-10 miles, and I barely made it to the low end of that–and slower than usual, despite the fact that I cut down my walking intervals to a 30 run/45 walk ratio.  It was just an all-around bad day.  It was humid, hot, I had a headache, I was tired, and my muscles were really sore.  The whole time I was running I was thinking that I should have stayed in bed.  But, I did my eight miles, even though I wanted to stop at seven–with a lengthy time of 2 hours, 17 minutes, a 17 minute mile.  And then, I went to bed.

Today was hill training again, and after my extreme huffing and puffing last week, I decided to just walk up the darn thing–and my time was exactly the same as when I tried to run up–53 minutes, 33 up and 20 down.  It was still hard, and hot–but a lot of fun running down.

So, I guess the moral of these past two runs are sometimes you have to slow down to speed up and sometimes you speed up to slow down.   There’s just no telling.

I’m very concerned with my time lately because the recommitment papers are due on Saturday, and I’ve got to put down my mile pace. My goal pace is a 15 minute mile, so I don’t know whether to put that or to put my 16 minute mile pace–both of these paces put me in the slow group, meaning that on race day we’ll start early to finish before the course closes. But, if I do a 16 minute mile I definitely won’t finish in 6:30, and I’m concerned they won’t let me run faster than my set group. I’ll have to consult the coaches on this one.

I am excited, but tired–this is the first week I’ve been able to do hill and speed training and it serves to remind me just how long I have to go–I suppose I should be thinking about how far I’ve come, but that’s just not the way my mind works. I’m very goal oriented. I’m trying to move my long run pacing to :30 run/:45 walk to speed up and increase my endurance a bit over the :30/1:00 pace I have been doing. This Saturday is 8-10 miles, so I’ll have a shorter distance to work with.

And here’s a toast to thinking that 8-10 miles is a shorter distance!