About 3 days after I completed my marathon, an awful awful feeling started creeping in.
Days 1 and 2 were filled with a little bit of disbelief. Except for the profound ache in my quads, I wasn’t quite sure I’d done it.
And then came the postpartum depression.
Literally, I was overwhelmed by this sense that I could have done better. That I, and my race time, was a disappointment to friends and family. That I hadn’t worked hard enough initially, and that’s why I hadn’t pulled an Olympian time. I started to feel antsy. That I immediately needed to sign up for something else, to begin training, and to “redeem” myself in a sense.
I explained this to Yoga Kerri a few days later at work, and she, as well as a few others, explained that the race was about me, and not anyone else. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thought. My time was nothing to sniff at. I’d done it. I’d enjoyed the experience. And I wanted to do it again, and if I did it better (and one day qualified for Boston and then had a really sweet jacket to proudly wear about as people marveled about my beauty and strength), then so be it.
I don’t know who I was comparing myself to. But I have a lot to be proud of.
I finished a marathon
I ran the entire time, the way I wanted to
I felt relatively good the entire time
I created a training plan, and stuck to it
I’d gladly do it again
So raise your glass (of low-cal Gatorade), and cheers to not comparing yourself to anyone else. Do you!
Yesterday, my baby decided he wanted to go be with the Lord.
.
After a rather difficult day yesterday (guess who got another job rejection!) I climbed into the Green Monster to head home. Got going and….my car won’t shift out of first gear?! So I tried everything. I talked to him. I stopped and started him. And when all was said and done, this Mama was crusin’ down Wade Avenue barely faster than I finished my first marathon.
The Green Monster is now in a medically induced coma down at the transmission shop. There he sits, waiting for me to decide if his transmission is worth a reboot, or if it’s time to move on, and buy a car that most other grown-ups find acceptable.
At any rate, whatever I decide, if I do decide to let him go to the great junkyard in the sky, Green Monster was…no is….a great guy.
My sister crashed him like 10 years ago, and he lived to tell the tale.
He came up with me to my first stint in Pennsylvania, where we traveled all about the Northeast, without a care in the world.
His AC stopped working a few years ago, but I still accepted him as a family member. I just rolled around with that 4-60 AC system. 4 windows down, 60 mphs at all times.
I used to sleep in the back of that car on my lunch breaks during my internships with the window down juuuuust enough so I wouldn’t suffocate.
If you go under the drivers side seat, not only will you find a wide array of quarters, great for any quarter emergency you may find yourself in, but you will find a rainbow of pretzel M&Ms, still good enough to eat. (I can’t eat a bag without dropping one).
I’m taking the evening to reflect on our time together and to decide whether I think the Green Monster is worth taking for another spin. Buy at any rate, you were a good Green Monster. And thanks to your “death,” I will be running to and from work, until I find someone, not as good, but more alive than you are.
I won’t lie to you and tell you I felt (physically) like a million bucks after. In fact, the day after, I felt quite horrid. Not like anything was hurt, I’ll-never-walk-again horrid, but like, quads were like ::side eye:: hips were like what in the world?!
Three days out and I feel great. I did a little walk/jog thing on the treadmill last night to get the juices flowing. I’m ready for a really short, easy run today, and nothing more. But I’m so ready to sign up for another. SO ready. So ready to do better with my time. So ready to plan out better. So ready to take an extra day off work so I can actually enjoy the beer they give you after. So ready to bring a few more friends and let them get addicted to it (in a good way) like I am! So ready for better weather (here’s hoping) for the next one!
So I’m not sure when. But soonish. I’d like to take on this beast again.
If you’re thinking about running a marathon, and you’re kind of playing around with the idea, DO IT. It’s like the best feeling of accomplishment next to graduating with a Masters or an undergraduate degree after a long hard road. It’s like you work toward it, you work toward it, and OH LOOK! Now it’s here, and you finally get to see your hard work pay off. It’s really neat. So a few marathon tips, and a little insight into Shamrock?
Post-race, they gave us all blankets for the trek home!
You need a hotel? Get one that’s walkable. Now’s not the time to be getting yourself a motel in the hood. Because you’re gonna be feeling some type of way when you finish, only to realize that you paid to park in a sketchy parking lot, and that you’ve got to ride around, smelling like a locker room, to the Sundial Inn, or worse, the Motel 6. Just spring for the extra.
Bring a friend. If you can convince someone to do it with you, I think that makes it way better, and the two of you can encourage each other. You and aforementioned homie don’t need to be pace buds, but even to check into the hotel with, to eat a few meals with, to walk around the expo, and to encourage each other is fun and fine! I brought Jenny, who was quite a bit faster than I am, but we bounced some good energy between the two of us, and it worked out!
Aquaphor.
My only battle scar (because I Aquaphored) was a welt from the seaming in my tights. Once I realized what was going on, I was 20 miles in, and it was too late for me to be messing with my leg.
Be prepared for things to go not exactly how you planned them out in your head on race day. You do everything you’re supposed to. That doesn’t mean the weather or the course will. The weather this weekend, quite frankly, sucked a big fat one. It was beautiful and breezy on Saturday. On race day? Overcast, cold, and a few rain drops, though the rain held off until after we scooted. The course also was a little longer than 26.2 miles, which I’m investigating right now. Oh well, you can’t do anything about it once you’re in the thick of the race, right? So just solider on!
We were crossing our fingers and praying for some good weather, but we didn’t get it. Oh well! At least the rain held off. It was rather freezing and windy, though!
Throwaway clothing. Not kidding. These cheap articles of clothing are going to save. Your. Life. Over the top of my adorable little green cap-sleeved tech shirt and compression 3/4 length pantaloons, I threw this horrific hoodie with holes in it over the top, as well as a slouchy pair of sweats. I was able to, in the pocket of the hoodie, put some hotties, to keep my Raynaud’s-afflicted hands warm while we stood around and waited for the elites and the first corral to get moving. I had gloves as well, which were thrown away around 20-some-odd miles because I could not get them back on my hands. Oh well. RIP Brooks gloves. You served me well this past winter. But someone else is enjoying you now.
Be sweet to the volunteers, cause they’re gonna be so sweet to you! I understand why these road races cost so much. They put a LOT into them to make sure that we’re rolling relatively comfortably for 26+ miles. The volunteers stood out in the freezing cold for close to 5.5 hours, holding little cups of water, Gatorade, bananas, cookies, and gels to make sure we could cruise successfully. They clapped, they cheered, and at the end, stood out on the even-colder beach to make sure I was given a finishers medal and a wonderfully warm fleece blanket. My hands were too cold to open the packaging my blanket came in at the end and a volunteer busted open the package and turned me around to put it on my shoulders. As a final note, my apologies to the little girl who I spilled water on. Total accident.
Draw on the strength of your friends, family, and other well-wishers. You’re gonna need it. Play their voices in your head. Think about your mom. Think about your friends. Think about the random folks who’ve wished you well. Think of your ancestors. Think of how hard you worked, and draw strength. That will get you through. I have to give a very special shout-out to all the folks at Fleet Feet, Jenny, Kerry, Vinny, Austin, Alexa, Andrew, Erin, Taylor, Liz, Maggie, Mark, Christopher, Chelsie, my Mom, and Melanie. An extra special thanks to Jerry, my co-worker, with the southern accent, whose voice kept playing over and over and over in my head.
Be prepared. You’re gonna see a lot of poop, and a lot of public urination. I only tell you this so you’re not a total weirdo and staring when you see a guy in an Adidas track suit about face, step only a foot away from you, and whip his stuff out. Avert your eyes, and keep it moving.
Register! You’re not gonna understand it until you register. Do it, and you will be amazed at what your body is capable of doing.
The final score. Already planning on what I can do a little better next time 🙂
Gels, Gatorade Primer, sports bra, gum, Welch’s Fruit Snacks, throwaway clothing, gloves, RockTape, Nuun, low-cal Gatorade, Hotties (for my hands), scissors, Brooks Ghost, Brooks Glycerin, Aleve, and I’m throwing some bagels in there now.
So I’m adding an element to the blog. Super relevant, yet super challenging. It’s the part where we’re young and we like to go out with our friends – so how do we navigate the downtown bar/restaurant scene without totally wrecking our diets/lifestyles/training programs? Here’s a little guide with a couple of tricks to help you navigate when your frands call you up.
First, don’t panic. It’s tempting to, when you’re training, or when you follow a specific diet, alienate yourself from friends who don’t eat or drink the same way you do. But just because you’re watching what you eat doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to spend a little quality time with friends, right? So your friends call you up and say, “Hey, let’s go get nachos and watch sports (ew) at the bar!”
“Okay girl! Let’s go!”
So second, scope out the scene. Google the place where you’re going to go, check out the menu, and make a plan for yourself. Don’t expect yourself to make a great nutritionally sound decision when under duress.
Third, skip the sodas, skip the bread basket, and skip the appetizers. If you can manage that, you’ve already won half the battle right there! Between those three things, you could add on enough calories for a full meal, so if you skip those, you’ll actually still be hungry when your food comes out!
Eyeball the sides. Can you replace the chips or fries with something else? Is there a fruit option? An option for a side salad? Even sweet potato fries? Go for the one with the least grease, and stick to it! Fries and tots are completely awesome, but trust me, your belly will thank you in the morning on your next run.
Veggie burger with green beans on the side! Proof that you CAN find better choices, even when you’re at the bar, among the nachos, beer, potato skins, and fries!
Do your thing! Enjoy your meal! And enjoy pretending that you care about sports!
Finally, finally, if you slip up and go for something that wasn’t the plan, that’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over the stray fry or the dessert that accidentally found its way into your mouth. Food is meant to be enjoyed, and dang it, you’re allowed to have a good time once in a while!
So fear not next time you go out with friends, and hey, maybe your good habits will rub off on a few of them!
I still haven’t heard back from my friend at the New York Post. Rude. Call me back, dude, don’t be a turd!
Anyhoo, I haven’t blogged in like two days. Miss me? Ugh, I missed you too, sexy thang.
I’m like a week out from my marathon. My training is done. I did my last long run today in some beautiful Carolina pre-spring weather.
And I’m starting to plan for my week for this marathon. So my plan of action for the next seven days?
–Fiber. Gotta stay regs, right? Don’t want any surprises on the course.
–Tina Fey. Justin Timberlake. At the suggestion of more than a few friends after I told them how much I enjoyed Kathy Griffin’s bio, I downloaded ‘Bossypants’. So far, hysterical. And I know I’m not supposed to laugh, but when she imitated old black folks, I nearly fell over, 6 miles into today’s run. I also discovered how friggin phenomenal Justin Timberlake’s station on Pandora was, and if you have a bad word to say about ‘Suit and Tie’, please excuse yourself from this entry presently.
–Water. Liquids. Gotta hygrate. Hygration is key. Water, Hatorade, water, and water.
–Complex carbs. For sustained energy. So I can’t slam a piece of lasagna and three slices of pizza the night before and expect for things to go my way.
–Sleep. No napping during the day in hopes I can sleep full nights. I’m not running anywhere on three hours of sleep. It just won’t happen.
–Shade of nail polish. Duh. I’m not running around, my hands lookin a mess. You crazy if that’s what you think I’ve worked for.
-And finally, makeup. Waterproof liquid liner and mascara. Make fun of me all you want, I’m a scary lookin person under this.
Besides solidifying my victory dance, ::cross cross, catdaddy::, what have I forgotten?
First, I haven’t heard from my friend, Kyle from the New York Post. Kyle, darling, if you’re reading, I’d love to hear from you! Seriously, let’s talk.
Nextly (that a word?!), onto our question! I promise you I’m not being silly, and I’m not being condescending, but I’ve been getting this question a whole lot.
So I’m sure you’ve seen these little dooders cropping up on cars. Do you feel a little confused when you see them? Or the 5k? The 26.2? There’s a whole language you adopt when you start racing, and I’m here to translate it for you. I’m extremely multilingual.
Marathon: 26.2 miles – a marathon isn’t an arbitrary term for running around without a purpose. When someone says they’re running a marathon, generally, they’re running a 26.2 mile course. This accounts for those 26.2 stickers and magnets you see on cars.
Half-marathon: 13.1 miles
10K : 6.2 miles
8k: 4.97 miles
5K: 3.1 miles
So your friend tells you they’re running any of these? Or you see one of these stickers on a car? Here’s your cheat sheet!
Overactive Blogger 