So I know that I still have a bunch of race reports to share, and a bunch of other running related things to blog about... but the other day, Mark Remy from Runner's World posted a poem that really touched me.  I've posted it below in entirety if you are too lazy to click the links that I always give in my blog posts...

Any way, Ray sent it to me while he was off at work the other day, and I've been thinking about it ever since. I've since seen people on facebook linking to it like crazy. And every time I see the link, I click on it, and make sure to read this poem again.

And each time, it moves me.

So much so, that I thought it important to share.

And I think the reason that it is important to share, is because it reminds me that sometimes... life just sucks.

But as people who run (see, I still can't bring myself to label myself a "runner"), we have a coping mechanism in place.

And so yeah, sometimes life just sucks.

I'm not going to say that running fixes all of those sucky moments, but I do believe that it can make sucky situations suck just a little bit less.

And for this, I am grateful. Now, where did I put my shoes?

So I Went for a Run

Spoiler alert: Things got better. When you're a runner, they always do.

By

Mark Remy

Published

April 2, 2013

I was angry, so I went for a run. And things got better.

I was confused, so I went for a run. And things got better.

I was exhausted, so I went for a run. And things got better.

I was lost, unsure, empty, afraid. Certain that whatever was left of my sanity had snapped, had come untethered and floated away, to a place so high and remote that I would never see it again, and that even if I did, I wouldn't recognize it.

So I went for a run. And things got better.

I felt like things could not possibly get worse, so I went for a run. And things got better.

(Another time, I felt like things could not get much better. I went for a run. Things got much better.)

After enough miles, over enough runs and enough years, I realized: No matter what, no matter when, or where, or why, I can find my shoes and go for a run and things will get better.

And that realization? Just knowing that?

It made things better.

Fat vs. Fit

I am about to talk about something that I don't normally talk about.

My weight.

Just thinking of hitting the "publish" button on this post makes me nauseous.

It really is terrifying to put this all out there publicly, but I think it is important all the same.

In May of 2011, I graduated from Nova Southeastern University with my M.S. It was also my 4 year wedding anniversary, and I was planning a surprise wedding vow renewal for my husband. Because I had so many important events going on, I struggled with finding the right outfits to wear. And suddenly, I couldn't deny it any longer.

I had let myself go.

No. I had SERIOUSLY let myself go.

I've always been a bit overweight... but on two occasions, I shed the extra lbs and actually saw myself the way I really wanted to be. Once in 8th grade (when I was on a strict vegetarian diet and ate everything with chopsticks for over a year), and the second time as an adult after graduating from college and working for about a year. When I met my husband in September of 2004, I was at my lowest adult weight. At 5'6 I was a size 8 in skirts or dresses (though most times I needed a 10 in pants to accommodate my butt and thighs). I settled comfortably at around 172-175 lbs, and while the weight charts that doctors use to determine ideal body weight indicate that 160 is really the max of where my weight should be... I knew better.  At one point I had gotten to 164, and you could see every rib and bone jutting out of my body. No thank you.

So when I met my husband, I was healthy and happy with my body image. I got married and was hovering around 180. I look at the photos from our wedding (when I wore a size 12 in pants) and am in shock at how thin I actually was.

And how fat I had become.

Flash forward to 2011, when I was about to graduate with my Masters degree. I spent an entire day looking for dresses to wear to the numerous upcoming events, and that evening I went to dinner at a friend's house. My friend didn't speak a lot of English, and was more comfortable in her native tongue of Arabic. We were talking about the difference between wedding customs of the U.S. vs her home in Saudi Arabia.... and I pulled out a photo of me at my wedding to illustrate that not everyone in the U.S. wears a solid white bridal gown.

Oh Amy! she gushed. You look amazing! That dress is stunning. And you were so thin!!! 

And then after a brief pause, she quietly asked, What happened?

She didn't realize what she had said. And certainly there had been some meaning lost in the cultural and linguistic translation.

But it still stung.


Later that night, I cried. Not just a couple of single tears.

Big, messy, sloppy, alligator tears.

What had become of me?

Now here is a little math problem for those who might like to work their brains. I gained about 25lbs by the time i lost my job in 2009... part of that weight gain was the weight gain that people tend to have when they are happy in new relationships... part of that was from the depression over being in a job that was not healthy for me. Then I gained another approximate 36lbs between the time I went back to school in 2009, and the time that I had my wake up call.

Even at my heaviest weight in college, I never weighed this much. And while I saw the scale registering higher and higher numbers, and I had more and more difficulty fitting into my clothes, I was in denial. I went out and bought some size 14, then some size 16s. By the time I had this reality check, I had given up jeans altogether, in exchange for something less restrictive (like yoga pants), because that way I wouldn't notice the pain as I grew out of them.

The Monday after my ugly cry, I went on Weight Watchers.  

And you would think that the weight just fell off, but it didn't. I lost about 15lbs in the first couple of months, but then the weight loss just stopped. I was eating right, and starting to take care of myself but I was still not as active as I could have been.

8 months after starting Weight Watchers (January 2012), I saw Ray finish his first half marathon, and I decided that maybe I, too, could run a half marathon.

And so I started training. And the scale slowly started to move again. The experts recommend that people losing weight aim for no more than 2 lbs per week of loss, but I felt myself getting discouraged. At a rate of just half of that 2lbs per week, during 2012 I should have lost 52lbs.. or almost all of the weight I had put on over the years.

Instead, I lost 10. Bringing my grand total for almost 2 years of weight loss to 25lbs.

I still have a long way to go.

Or do I?

If you've been following along with the math, you've figured out that during my weight gain since meeting my husband, I've gained a total of  61 lbs and gone from a size 10 to a size 16 (or more because I stopped wearing clothes with this sizing system). And because you are excellent at math, You will also know that I have lost a total of 25lbs.

But the math doesn't add up. While I haven't seen the scale move in months, I've watched my clothes become more and more baggy, and I have tried on clothes that I held onto over the years hoping someday I would shrink back into them.

The size 12 shorts that I couldn't button on New Years 2012? I wore them 2 weeks later (after my first half marathon), they were really snug in the legs, but they buttoned (barely). Those same shorts? They now have about an inch of play in the waist, and are baggy on my butt and legs. And yet, the scale. Hasn't. Budged. If anything, I've actually GAINED a couple of lbs since then.

What is crazy is that I am 30 lbs heavier than when I bought those shorts, and they fit me better now!

Before people go telling me that muscle weighs more than fat so it makes sense that I am heavier fitting in the same clothes, lets not forget that I was VERY active in karate the last time I wore these clothes. I was in excellent physical condition back then too, so why the difference?

In the end, I'll have to chalk it up to one of life's great mysteries. And I guess it is one of life's mysteries that I'll have to be ok with.

Don't get my wrong. I still want to lose the rest of this weight and drop another 30 (ish) lbs. I realize that I may never go to the doctors office and have the nurses say "healthy" instead of "obese" based on some arbitrary chart, but I'd like to get my numbers down.

I went to the doctor on 3/27 for a followup. You know, bloodwork, bloodpressure, cholesterol, pulmonology, etc.

And he said I'm healthy again.

And that is the important part.

I'm looking good, I'm feeling good. I'm healthy, I'm active. I could probably work to lose some more weight, but my weight no longer poses a danger to my health. It will come with time.

Just like running a half marathon, I have to remember not to push too hard too fast. Weightloss is a distance event, not a sprint to the finish.

Shamrock 10 Miler - March 16, 2013

When I signed up for that atrocious mess of a half marathon, (Sunshine State), part of the motivation to commit to the race was that it was part of a two race series called "The Challenge" which was presented in part by the Palm Beach Road Runners Club. By registering for both the Sunshine State Half and the Shamrock 10 miler, finishers would not only receive finisher's medals for each event, but a third medal for successfully completing both components of The Challenge.

I was excited when I registered for this 2 part event, but after what happened at the Sunshine State half with poor runner support, lack of water, lack of concern for safety, etc... I was seriously questioning whether I should just forgo the Shamrock 10 miler. I heard rumor that this event was going to be quite different from Sunshine State (because it was handled by the PBRRC rather than a promoter out to turn a quick buck), but I was still hesitant.

Which was why, although they would have packet pickup for Shamrock on the morning of the race, I drove over an hour each way the day before the race to pickup my bib and swag-bag. I told Ray that I needed an excuse to get out of the house and take a break from my dissertation work, but the reality was that I needed to gauge their overall organization and preparation for this event.

And I was pleasantly surprised. Packet pickup went smoothly. People were kind and friendly. I was assured that the awful poison fluid that 82Go markets as "portable water" would not be served to runners. Overall, I got a good feeling about this race. And the next morning... I woke up ready and excited to run.

On race day, it took over an hour to get to John Prince Park in Lake Worth... but on the flip side, because it was only a 10 mile race, it was a 7:30 am start time so we got to sleep in a little.

Did anyone notice that I just said only a 10 mile race? NEVER thought I would say something like that... but I digress.

So anyway, we got to the park about an hour early. And then we ran into our friend Tracey and stopped for a quick photo op. Then it was off to the start line. I was running this race alone, but like he has been throughout this season, my awesome sidekick of a husband was there to support me in this endeavor. I think he might have been a bit more insistent on attending this race knowing how sick I was at the end of the Sunshine State fiasco.

On our way to the start line, we saw an older gentleman who had limited use of his legs and was using forearm crutches to help with his mobility. I saw that he was wearing a bib and I was impressed.

Like, ridiculously impressed.

Because the reality is: if I'm having a bad day, or it is cloudy, or I can't find the right socks, or I'm sad, or I'm happy, or I'm too busy, or I just ate, or I didn't eat enough during the day, or I've got a hangnail/blister/bruise/headache.... yada yada yada... I frequently come up with an excuse to not run.

And here is this guy out there on arm crutches, barely able to walk without assistance, who is about to do 10 miles. Granted, I don't know his circumstances, but it makes my complaints seem so superficial. And it left me impressed.

The course was fairly straightforward. Through the park and around the lake until you hit 5 miles, then you loop back to the finish line for a total of 10 miles. At least it seemed fairly straightforward until I actually started moving.

From the first 0.1 mile, I couldn't seem to catch my stride. We passed the 5K start line (there would be a 5K which would start at 8am), where people were starting to line up for their race, and the crowd was cheering. I thought that they might have been cheering for all of us, and I started to push my pace, but then I realized that the man on crutches was hauling ass coming up beside me. Like a character straight out of a Warner Brothers cartoon, I could almost see the smoke coming off of both the soles of his shoes and the crutches as they pounded the pavement.

And just like that, he was gone.

And I was wishing I had crutches too.

Because my foot pain was so bad I felt like I was channeling barefoot Marv's pain when he broke into Kevin's house in Home Alone. Suddenly, This mysterious foot pain was fully explained. Whereas up until now, I had absolutely no clue what was causing the excruciating pain in my arches and ankles, it suddenly became very clear. 

I have high arches and weak ankles. The pain only seemed to come along when I was just starting a run, or when I was running on uneven pavement. If it was a road shoulder or too much grade elevating the center of the road above the sides, or even around a corner or on a ramp... as long as there was a pitch to the road, the pain would come along, interfering with every step.

And I only realized this during the Shamrock run because the ENTIRE course was around the park's central lake, and the whole path was set up at a steep incline where the side closest to the lake was at a lower elevation than the side furthest from the lake. Guess it was built like that to help with runoff... because it certainly wasn't built like that to help Amy comfortably run!

Like previous long runs, I had anticipated that the arch and ankle pain would dissipate a bit, but it never did. Each and every step was enough to cause me to grit my teeth. By the first mile of the course, it was clear that the pain wasn't going to go away. The pack thinned out and left just me and one other woman trailing at the back. About a mile into the course, she veered off to use the facilities but when I passed her, she was right on my tail.

At 1.5 miles, runners who were participating in the other event from the day (a timed 5K) swarmed around us. With little warning, floods of 5K runners were speeding by us. Normally, this wouldn't be much of a bother, except that they were sometimes running 4 or 5 abreast, they would overtake me from both the left and the right sides, and they didn't seem to follow standardly understood runner's etiquette. For the most part, they were obnoxious and irritating and just got in my way. Thankfully, I didn't have to deal with them long because the split for the 10 miler vs the 5K happened not far after that. 

And then it was just me and the woman I was playing leap frog with.  And soon, the faster runners started to pass us in the opposite direction. I was impressed, and like always, I let them know by cheering them on. And they cheered me on too. 

I think that support and encouragement that runners get from one another is one of the things that I like most about organized races, particularly out-and-back courses. I get great encouragement from the runners who are faster than me, and can only hope that they get an additional boost of energy from the kind words of encouragement that I offer them in return.

Soon though, I was hitting the 5 mile mark, and there were no longer any runners to pass and get encouragement from though. There were other pedestrians out in the park who occasionally offered encouragement, but now that the sun was rising higher and higher, my energy was fading quickly. And my feet! Oh man, my feet NEVER stopped hurting. At mile 6, the pain was so bad I had to stop running and did my best to just remember to put one foot in front of the other.

I started having hallucinations of what it would be like to take my shoes off and maybe put my feet into a cooler full of ice for the drive home after the race. I started wondering whether I could put dry ice directly on my skin. And then it happened around mile 8.

I started crying.

Not a couple of tears. Instead, this was big, fat, ugly, snotty, sobbing, elephant tears. And it was ugly.

Why on earth did I ever start torturing myself by running in the first place? Who came up with this stupid idea? And why the heck did I ever go along with it?

I was hurt, and upset, and mad at myself. Why can't anything ever be easy? Why wont my body let me do this, even after all the training? Why am I such a failure?

Looking back, the logical part of me knows that my brain starts shutting down when I am in pain and this was all just my self-doubt talking... but at the time, it was enough to really get the water works going again.

After about 10 minutes of this self-loathing, I realized that the car was less than a mile away. Which meant that it was less than 15-16 minutes away... even less if I picked up my pace.

So absurdly enough, I picked up my pace. The pain in my arches wouldn't let me pick up my pace that much, but I did speed up a little.

And then I saw it. One of the best sights in the world...

Me ("not impressed") with double medals

My husband standing out in front of the finish line with his arms raised above his head in fists, hooting and hollering, cheering me on, telling me how proud he is of me, and letting the whole world know how awesome he thinks I am.

And nothing is better than that.

Not even if I was a Kenyan.

Chip - 2:32:12.880

Pace - 15:13 / mile

Overall - 433 / 441

Gender - 251 / 258

Division - 40 / 42

Dr. Dribble

I tend to run with headphones on... which is great to keep me moving and pumped but can mean a moment of sudden panic when I hear something approaching me that I can't quite interpret the sound of.

Which was what happened when I was about a mile into the Publix A1a Half Marathon. I had just had a parade of police motorcycles pass me (which definitely startled me), but then, suddenly there was a rhythmic pounding that sounded like it was getting closer and closer, and I couldn't fully understand what I was hearing. The sound made my heart race, scaring me into thinking I was about to get run over, or hit by something, or worse...

And then I realized that it was just a guy running the marathon while dribbling 2 basketballs.

He passed me, and I distinctly remember thinking that this guy was pretty badass. Here I am struggling to just put one food in front of the other, and here is this guy who is not only running a marathon (something I can only dream of being able to accomplish) while constantly dribbling 2 basketballs. I could probably get down on myself that here is a guy who has mastered 2 things while I struggle to be proficient at just one... but I don't.

Instead, I draw great inspiration.

Because surely, this means that there is hope for me yet. If he can be awesome at many things, I should be able to get myself to be proficient at just one.

I later learned that this man, who goes by the cutesy moniker "Doctor Dribble" is actually a man named Darren Weissman. During the day, Darren is a school teacher, a motivational speaker and a basketball coach who serves the community by reaching out to at risk and foster children. As an adult who spent part of my childhood in foster care, that alone would be enough for me to call this man a true inspiration.

But then I found out that he dribbled his basketballs while marathoning to raise money for Our Kids, an organization which aims to oversee and lead a coordinated system of care, delivering excellence to abused, abandoned and neglected children and their families in Miami-Dade and Monroe counties.

And then I found out that he had people chronicling his race to submit it to the Guinness Book of World Records. His goal? 26.2 miles while double dribbling, in a time of less than 4 hours and 58 minutes.

His actual time 4 hours and 39 minutes.

He did it. He made it into the Guinness Book!

Color me impressed. And inspired.

Excuse the quality of the photo taken with my dumb-phone.

3 weeks later, I ran into Doctor Dribbles at the packet pickup for 13.1 Miami Beach. And once again, I was in awe. Not only was I standing in front of a man who gives to the community in unprecedented and innovative ways, I was also standing in front of a man who saw a challenge laid out in front of him and took up that mantle with little reservation.

*This* is the kind of man that we should be looking up to and drawing inspiration from. And I was lucky to have have made his acquaintance.


Then, the next day, during the 13.1 Miami when I heard that Boom-Boom-Boom of the basketballs dribbling up behind us, I was no longer afraid of the sound. I dug in, and felt my pace picking up. As he rounded the corner, I wanted him to know how truly amazing I think he is.

Darren, you inspire me! I shouted.

Without even skipping a beat, he responded with "No. YOU inspire me."

And as I thought about it later, I thought maybe he was right. Maybe I can be inspirational too.

13.1 Miami Beach - March 9, 2013

Ray and I met Brina through mutual friends while we were at the Run For Your Lives Zombie Infested 5k, and she and I became facebook friends shortly after that. We didn't talk very much and our interaction was minimal, until she noticed how active I was in the Half Fanatics group on facebook.

Brina wasn't a member of Half Fanatics but was intrigued by this group. She had foot surgery last year and was in the process of returning to running and needed some extra motivation, so she requested to join the facebook group (although she hadn't officially qualified for membership).

She had just run the Disney Princess Half Marathon in February, and she needed to meet her 2 in 16 days or her 3 in 90 days requirements if she wanted to join Half Fanatics. She asked me if I knew of any upcoming events.

And as it turned out, I was already registered to run the 13.1 Miami Beach race on March 9th as my 5th half marathon toward my 13 in '13 goal. This race would also fit her criteria of 2 in 16 days to qualify her for membership of half fanatics. She asked if she could join me, my friend Shannon, and Shannon's friend Tracy at this race.

Of course, we said yes.

I liked the idea of getting to spend a little more time with her, but I had alterior motives as well. After my absolutely terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad experience at the Sunshine State Half Marathon... I knew I needed a little extra motivation to get back out there and try again. And what better motivation than to invite a new friend? That way either you suck it up and do well to show how awesome and badass you are, or you fall flat on your face and look like an idiot. I guess it was my own variation of sink or swim, and it wound up working. Really well.

March 9th was another really early morning. Ray (who normally comes out to my half marathons to support me) had a commitment to march in a local St. Patrick's Day parade, so he wouldn't be coming with me. This made me nervous. I had been to races where I was the only one I knew who was running, but I'd never been to a race without my husband being there. Guess there is a first time for everything.

Me with Tracy, Shannon and Brina pre-race.

We parked the car, and made it to the start line. Brina asked what my pace was and what my intervals were (2 min run/1 walk), and asked if she could tag along with me for the first few minutes. Of course! I said, The more, the merrier. I knew she was a *far* faster runner than me and she'd probably die of boredom lagging behind with me by the time we hit the first mile, but who am I to say no?

But then she surprised me.

By the end of the first 0.1 mile, my arch pain and shin pain was acting up. Though I had been to see a general practitioner and an orthopedic specialist, I still hadn't come to a definitive explanation for the Misery-esqe pains that I was having in my feet and ankles... I just knew that it is always worse during my first 2-3 miles. I cringed with every step, and Brina looked seriously concerned. I told her not to worry and explained that I just needed to work through it. Then I told her to leave me behind and go along without me.

Nope. She said. Let me tell you about my last half marathon, she said.

And she did. And pretty soon, I realized my foot pain was gone.

And I was having a really good time.

And we were making really good time. As in, just under 15 minutes per mile.

And that pace continued for close to 10 miles.

The course was fairly straightforward. Starting on Ocean Drive in Miami, north approx 3 miles to the Julia Tuttle Causeway. From there we crossed the bay Miami, then traveled south through the city to the MacArthur Causeway, then back east toward the beach, with the final 2-3 miles through Lummus Park.

At the top of the Julia Tuttle Causeway.

And with Brina, the time just flew by. We spent the morning laughing, sharing, crying, looking for pennies, playing leapfrog and joking around with other runners, and making awesome time. I couldn't help but feel awful that I was holding Brina back by going so slowly, but I rationalized that if I needed to slow down, I would... and I would encourage her to go along without me.

And eventually, when we began the final 5 mile stretch (because I always "break" half marathons down into the first 3 miles, then 2 sets of 5 miles to figure out where I am in the course) my pace began to significantly slow down. The fueling option I had chosen for this race (clif shot blocks) were not sitting well and I began to have some serious digestion issues. Then with the final ascent and descent over the MacArthur causeway, I was revisiting my arch and ankle pain.

Brina's Garmin 305 indicated we were slowing down to almost 16 minutes per mile. I tried to keep going, but felt overwhelmed as every part of my body screamed that something was wrong.

Why is it that everything always seems to fall apart in the final stretch?

I told Brina to go ahead without me as we began the final couple of miles on brick pathways through Lummus park. The brick was unforgiving, and my feet hated me.

I've stayed with you this long... she said, I'm not leaving you now.

And she kept running. She would run a little faster than me. I would drag my pathetic butt behind her for the run interval. then she would slow down and let me catch up during the walk interval. Then she would repeat.

I felt awful. Now I could barely keep up with her, and it was clear that she was slowing way down for me. I asked her again to leave me behind.

No, she said, the finish is right around the corner. Lets do this, she said.

And we did.

And as the finish line came into view, I told her I had a strange request.

Hold my hand? I asked.

And she did.

And we crossed the finish line.

Together.

And it was then that I realized what Ray had been trying to teach me for years. Yes, its nice to be able to say that I did something on my own. But sometimes, its really nice to share that accomplishment with someone else. 



Clock - 3:30:20
Chip - 3:23:42
Pace - 15:24 / mile
OA - 1998/2006
Sex - 938/952

Brina qualified for Half Fanatics and I finished my 5th half marathon with a shiny new Personal Record.

And I couldn't be more satisfied.

Sunshine State Half Marathon - February 23, 2013

The running season in South Florida lasts from approximately September/October through April/May, with a hiatus in the hotter months because running would be unbearable. That being said, I recognized that if I wanted to reach my goal of 13 half marathons in 2013, I would have to get at least half of them in before the break for the summer.

That meant registering for smaller half marathons, which I potentially didn't know much about.

And that meant a lot of research.

The Sunshine State Half Marathon in West Palm Beach, FL repeatedly turned up on my radar, and I thought I might like to give them a shot.

I think part of what excited me about Sunshine State was that it was so small. This would be a good opportunity to go out there with a really small group of people (less than 500), run, and have a good time, without having to worry about being jostled off the course or taking an elbow to the chin by a power-walker with bad form. I also liked the fact that because it had a 6:30 AM start time (whereas other races had much earlier start times), which meant that while we did have to stay over at grandma's house the night before, we wouldn't have to leave the house at 3 am to get to the start line.

The course map for Sunshine State

Which is a great idea in theory.  But then when you consider the fact that this is South Florida and thus we had to contend with South Florida sun, that this race course followed the intracoastal and thus there was no shade from the sun for nearly the entirety of the race, and the fact that the heat can get downright brutal once the sun comes up... starting a race at 6:30 AM wound up being a huge flaw in their planning.

Me with fellow Half Fanatics, Juanita and Bobby

Arriving at 6:30 AM felt fairly good at the time though. I had made plans to meet up with some other members of Half Fanatics for a pre-race photo near the start line before the race, so this was exciting. Ray and I also ran into Tracey, whom we met through friends when we participated in the Run For Your Lives Zombie 5K. We got some obligatory photos then Half Fanatic Juanita and I went to the starting corral and waited for the race to start.

It was then that I had my first problem of the day.  I went to turn on my ipod to listen to one of my favorite running playlists (that I am not ashamed to admit consists of a lot of Lady Gaga, Pink, and Britney), and I got the beeps of death, signaling that I had less than 5 minutes battery time. Some idiot (me) forgot to charge the blasted thing, and I was devastated to learn I would be running this race sans music. I thought back to a couple of 3-5 mile training runs that I did without music and remembered how in tune I was with both my body and my breathing.

I had a choice. Either I could run without music, or not run at all. My shoes were already on, and I was already there. Running without music seemed like the lesser of 2 evils. Besides, how bad could it be?

Famous last words.

Because there is a noise ordinance in downtown West Palm Beach, there was no National Anthem or gun to get us started. One of the race directors just stood at the starting line and urged us to get a move on. And like that, we were moving. My new friend Juanita quickly pulled away from me, but I was expecting that.

What I wasn't expecting was the amount of pain my feet were immediately in. Like my last half marathon experience (which left me with swollen feet and ankles for 3 days and off my feet for almost a full week), the arches of my feet felt like they were getting hulk-smashed with a sledgehammer with every step I took. I had finally had an appt with an orthopedic who suggested wearing compression sleeves on my lower legs, and that seemed to help a little with immediate swelling and later recovery, but during the run, the pain was still really bad.

The course was interesting. From the start line, half marathoners ran 1.5 miles north, then 1.5 miles back to the start line, then continued along south until they reached the 8.5 mile turn around, then runners returned for the final stretch north again. There were multiple events taking place that morning, with a 5k starting 1 hour after the half marathon. The 5k course ran south from the startline for 1.5 miles, then turned around and returned to the finish line. This posed an interesting situation for slowpokes like me.

A quick pic with Ray at the 3 mile mark

I ran the first stretch of 1.5 miles north, then 1.5 miles south, but on the way, I passed the finish line, which meant that I passed the finish-line party, the refreshments, the people enjoying their medals, the music and the food. It also meant that I got to pass my awesome husband (who I paused briefly to take a quick photo with because I love him so much)... but for the most part, passing the finishline was just a tease.

Then for the next 1.5 miles south, I was running opposite direction from all of the 5k finishers who were flying past me. The pack had spread out enough that I could barely see the woman in front of me, and I thought that I was at the end... and I felt alone. And it didn't feel good to see people already finishing (even if they were just finishing a 5k), when I wasn't even an hour into my race.

And of course, because I didn't have music to distract me, I couldn't get out of my own head and stop with the negative self-talk.

Then my interval timer started acting up. Without any music, and without a working interval timer to keep me on pace, I had to resort to counting steps as motivation to keep going. I was falling further and further behind pace, I was running straight into the wind, so I felt my body working far harder than normal to gain less and less distance. And then with the sun being up, and without any shade, I began to lose steam quickly.

It was time for water.

Except that the water and aid stations were WAY too far apart.

And then the water came in the form of 82Go, essentially purified water which is packaged in sealed plastic pods, rather than in bottles. This water is great in theory, but in application it is far from perfect. In order to get the water out of the bags you must use your fingers to tear a corner, or you must use your teeth (which mom always scolded us about doing). Breaking open the bag means that water flies out all over the place. This wouldn't be a problem, except that the water has a distinct taste (and smell) that is a cross between petroleum, chemicals, and poison. I am sensitive to many smells, and one smell of this water the first time it shot all over me when I was puncturing a bag was enough to turn my stomach.

But I knew I was dehydrating fast. It was close to 85 degrees out, and I was running straight into a headwind. I cant drink a lot of full flavor electrolyte drinks because it hurts my stomach, so I had no choice but to try this water (which smelled like toxic waste).

And that was a horrible mistake. 2 sips had me doubled over with my stomach in revolt. Yuck. Vomiting on top of dehydration sucks. A lot.

I slowed down even more. I could barely keep propelling myself forward. But I knew I only had a couple more miles before the final turn around. And if I got that far already, I should just keep going. So I did. And my asthma started really acting up. At the turn around (at 8.5 miles), I gave up my running intervals altogether, and decided to walk the rest of the way back.

And I became acutely aware that I was on my own. I was still within the maximum time limit of 16 minutes per mile, but I didn't have much room to play. I was past the point of wanting to beat my personal best... my goal was just to finish. But that became more and more difficult as I passed places where I knew that there were supposed to be aid stations, and the volunteers were gone and they didn't have any fluids or support available for me.

I was angry. If a race advertises that they have a time limit of 16 minutes per mile, the volunteers and support need to stay in place for all entrants to have support.... not just the fast ones. I felt as if they took my money for registration, but didn't uphold their end of the bargain. Adding insult to injury, at mile 10, I was told by a police officer that I needed to get off the street and onto the sidewalk so that they could re-open the roadways for traffic. I was still within my time limits, but I was being cast aside. I was frustrated.

I just wanted to finish, and be done with this course, and the disorganization of the event.

At mile 12, I began to pass people who were participating in the 3rd event of the day... an untimed 5K walk to raise money for a homeless support program. Although this meant that I now had to contend with people walking 5-10 abreast in the opposite direction as me, this was good news. This actually meant that I had race support available to me once again, and would have access to poison-water (i was desperate and would have drank straight from the intracoastal if someone had handed me a cup).

When I rounded the final curve and saw the finish line, I saw my husband standing at the front of the chute. He knew something was wrong and met me on the course asking if I was ok.

Eventhough the goal was to finish and at this point, it didn't matter whether I got help at the finish or not, I was reminded of this inspirational video (which is inappropriately titled "very funny marathon finish" because really, is more inspirational than funny, or maybe even more scary than funny).



I wanted a clean finish. But I felt my body failing me. I told ray that I needed him to stay with me and stay close, ready to catch me if I fell, but to not touch me. This was something that I needed to do for myself, by myself.

And as I crossed the finishline, adding insult to injury, I heard the MC announce me as one of the "first finishers for the 5k fun walk." I guess that sounds less embarrassing than being announces as one of the last finishers to the half marathon, but I didn't see it that way. I did the same 13.1 mile course as the other half marathoners out there. I thought I deserved the same recognition.

I dropped a couple of choice words, cursing the MC (who, in his defense, had made an innocent mistake) and collected my medal. Before I could even take a peek at the medal, my feet came out from under me and I was blacking out.

Next thing I knew, I was in the grass with Ray, Juanita and EMTs around me.

I wound up not taking the courtesy ride to the emergency room, and I wound up refusing further treatment. But I do recognize that I was in rough shape. 

All because it was the worst race ever.

I do have to say though, courses that loop back on themselves are really neat because you pass other runners throughout the run... and there is nobody that understands how much encouragement a runner needs than another runner. For those other runners, I am truly thankful.

Me and Juanita holding up our mediocre medals.

Later that day, when I had fully recovered, I would realize that while it wasn't a PR race, it wasn't my worst half marathon time either.

Little miracles.

Chip - 3:31:55
Pace - 16:12/mile
Overall - 327/331
Age 70/71

Publix A1A Ft Lauderdale Half - February 17, 2013

So obviously I have an addiction to racing, and have become obsessed with running the 13.1 mile (half marathon) distance. I still wouldn't say that I enjoy running per se, but I do enjoy the after effects. To get up before dawn... to go out with hundreds of other people and go for a run... to see the sunrise... to burn some SERIOUS calories (close to 6K to be more precise)... and to do something that in 2007, only 0.17% of the American population had done. Granted the numbers have increased a bit as out of shape people like me have jumped on the bandwagon, but still... it is an accomplishment. And to do it all before most folks get out of bed... that feels pretty darn good.

Plus with a new goal to reach toward in 2013... I knew I had to get motivated and get some more half marathons under my belt.

I liked the idea of this race because it billed itself as being a flat, fast course, whatever that means (which I understand now, but I didn't at the time). I loved the finisher medal. And I loved the idea that it had a late-ish start time and was very near my house. That meant that although I was running a half marathon, I got to sleep in a little.

This race was different than the others though. Yes, Ray would be there as a spectator to support me as I crossed the finish line, but I was the only person I knew who was running this race, so I was on my own at the start.

But that's not entirely true. Because I was a new member of Half Fanatics and I had been talking to a couple other Fanatics who were also running. We had plans to meet near the start line about an hour before the official start of the race.

But it was a nightmare trying to find my new running friends. For starters, I'd only seen facebook profile pictures of both of them, and we all know that facebook profile pictures usually look NOTHING like the real person. But it was also in the low 30s (an anomaly for South Florida), so everyone was really bunched up together trying to block out some of the cutting wind, which made finding people a mess. On top of that, with a windchill bringing the temps into the upper 20s, most people (myself included) were wearing black trashbags to help keep their temps regulated. So it wasn't like we could text one another and ask what everyone was wearing.... because, of course, we were all wearing the same thing! BLACK TRASHBAGS!!!!

We finally found one another and said our goodbyes to Ray who was going to meet us at the finish line, and we made our way to the start corral. Unlike the two previous half marathons I had been in, the corrals were soft (meaning each runner chose what their pace would be and all corrals go at a time without waiting for each wave to clear out), so thankfully it was only a couple minutes of shivering before we could start.

Both Lisa and Pat run at faster paces than me, but Pat held back when we first began to run. I think she had hoped that I might be able to keep up, but I started having trouble almost immediately.

For starters, I was having trouble regulating my body temperature. I had gloves on which helped keep my hands warm, but everywhere else, my skin was really cold and I had goose bumps. At the same time, my body felt like I was burning up from the inside. It almost felt like that weird in-between when you have a really high fever and your skin just really hurts...

And then there was the foot pain.

After my 2 previous half marathons I had noticed a strange symptom taking place around 24-36 hours after the race. Out of nowhere, my ankles and arches would swell up to 2-3 times their normal size. I wasn't having pain (other than the pain associated with just walking on swollen feet), but I was still concerned. 2 days prior to the A1A race, I had an appt to establish a relationship with a new primary care doctor, and he had ordered blood work to ensure that it wasn't kidney (or other internal organ) related, and referred me to an orthopedist to have my feet and ankles checked out. The doctor told me that while I was waiting for the appt with the orthopedist, I could continue to run, but to remain aware of how my feet and ankles were feeling.

And during the first 3 miles of this race, other than the extreme cold, ALL I was really aware of was my feet and ankles. They were on fire. With every step I took, it felt like my feet were being crunched into a bench vice. I was having some shin pain as well, but I barely noticed because of the pain in my feet.

I stopped briefly to adjust my shoelaces (thinking if I loosened them that might help), but it just got worse and worse. Passing mile marker 2, I considered veering off the road and waiting for medical to come get me... or calling Ray and having him swoop in to save the day... but I couldn't. Something just kept telling me to reach for 4 miles, and if it was still bad at 4 miles, then I could quit. My time was ridiculously slow at this point (almost 17 minutes per mile), but with a mini goal of making it to mile 4, I tried to keep my chin up.

Whatever works, right?

But before I could reach 4 miles, we had to go up and over a small bridge toward the beach, and I saw the most spectacular sunrise. And somehow, the sunrise gave me hope. Or at least it distracted me long enough that by the time I reached mile 4, I was actually enjoying the journey. I was still extremely cold. My skin felt really uncomfortable. But I no longer noticed any shin, ankle, or calf pain. The pack (which was somewhat small to begin with, at less than 4,000 people) had really spread out at this point, and I was able to get deep within my head to let my mind drift.

The course led us in through Birch State Park for miles 4-6 which was a very pleasant surprise. The trees and other foliage blocked a good deal of the sun and the bone chilling wind. The course wound through some narrow stretches of road, and I felt like I was really having a connection with myself, working through some of life's issues, and developing a better understanding of my own body. 

Then it was back out to A1A and north until I hit the 8.5 mile point. By the time that I was traveling north in this section, both full and half marathoners were already headed south passing me. People were waving and friendly offering applause and encouragement wherever possible... something that I really love about the running community (but I'll talk about that another time). And somewhere in there, I realized that the time getting deep within my own head and the extra encouragement from other runners was giving me a speed boost. I was making up time... and fast.

After turning around for the final 5 mile stretch, I was given a dixie cup of light beer from one of the spectators on the course (because you know... mom's rule about never taking food or drinks from strangers doesn't apply to twizzlers or beer at a half marathon), and that was just what I needed to settle my stomach a little...

Me with new friends from Half Fanatics, Pat and Lisa

But then I got so wrapped up in my mantra of just wanting to "finish what I started," that I really don't remember much of that last 5 mile stretch. Until I hit the final 0.1 mile through the parking lots and into the chute. I was exhausted and just wanted to be done. I thought that I was about to hit a personal record, but I couldn't be sure. I had some great music on my ipod. I was in a groove. Runners who had finished prior to me were eating and drinking around their cars but stopping to cheer me on. I might as well have been an Olympian with as much support and crowd appeal as I was getting... definitely not a 16 minute miler.

It was only after I crossed the finish line and found Ray that I realized that I wasn't a 16 minute miler anymore. Now, I was officially a 15:29 minute miler.

That's over 1 minute off per mile from my first half marathon a month and a half before.

And the official results prove it.







Gun - 3:27:05
Chip - 3:22:50
10K - 1:30:34
Pace - 15:29/mile
Overall - 3047/3338
Div - 254/266

5K Foam Fest Miami - February 2, 2013

Because Ray and I had so much fun running the Warrior Dash, and even more fun running the Run For Your Lives Zombie Infested 5K (despite my ridiculous knack for getting hurt), everytime either one of us gets an email about a new obstacle run or mud run, our interest gets piqued.

So when we got an email from the makers of the 5K Foam Fest, we immediately began getting excited to get out there and challenge ourselves again.

5K Foam Fest is like other mud runs, with climbing obstacles, electricity, barbed wire, and mud. But then they have added a new spin to the idea and have included a number of inflatable bounce-houses, slides and other obstacles which they have filled with foam (soapy bubbles). Think Slip and Slide meets child's bounce house party, but for adults. With a 5k run.

And things like this beast of a water slide.



And a medal at the end.

And beer.

Leading up to the actual event was not so great. I kept getting the nagging feeling that the promotions company was sub-par. We got an email about being registered. Then we got an email that the registration had inadvertedly left off some fees for mandatory insurance so we had to give them more money or we couldn't run. Then we go another email a few days later that reminded us that parking was $20 per car, and if we didn't pay the parking we couldn't get into the lot, and we probably wouldn't be able to run. Then a few days later we got another email saying that we had to make sure that we signed waivers (which took away their liability should we get hurt) and that if we didn't bring them on the day of, they would have some available for us, for a $5 fee. If we didn't sign them or pay the fee for a copy of the paper, we couldn't run. Then we got an email reminding us to bring cash to the event so that we could buy some of their merchandise. Then the day before the event, we got emails telling us that there would be photographers on the course and for a $5 fee we could take home the photos on the day of the event as they would be printing them on site.

Each of these things seems reasonable enough when separated out as isolated incidents, but because it was always one thing after another, I was left with a bad taste in my mouth, feeling as if we were being nickle and dimed.

When I go to a race, even if I know that there is no charitable aspect involved in it and we are doing little more than lining the pockets of the promotions company, I still want to be treated with respect, and like more than just a paycheck.

So Ray took to emailing them. And the woman he was corresponding with was seriously lacking in the customer service department.

I am high anxiety to begin with, but the idea of running at an event where there was poor customer service combined with feeling like we were being treated as just a way to bring in some fast cash had me dreading my participation in the week leading up to the event. I began to worry that they wouldn't be giving us what we paid for, that the obstacles might be dangerous, that we wouldn't have a good time, that the promo company would just flake out altogether (which did happen at a race that we were signed up for in October but we never actually participated in), and that it was going to be an all around disaster. And then there is the fear of personal injury.

I can understand a little bit of disorganization at an event. Perhaps there are not enough volunteers to hand out water. Perhaps the course is damaged so it bottlenecks too much and creates a traffic jam. Perhaps the weather is awful. But when you see disorganization and a lack of appropriate response to participants legitimate concerns, this could be a sign of a bigger crack in the system. And at an obstacle race, these cracks can lead to devastating injuries.

And me, considering that I seem to get injured just walking out of my house in the morning and I manage to find any possible hole in the ground within 50 yards of me, I dreaded being put in a situation where I could wind up getting hurt.

But our fears were for naught.

Me with Ray, David, Kevin and Shannon

We carpooled with our friends Shannon, Kevin and David (to split the $20 parking fee), and we arrived to find a much more organized event than we had thought we would find. Sure, there wasn't as much of a pre-race party atmosphere as we had been promised leading up to the event, but it was still early in the morning. And it was brisk.

After checking in with registration and getting our bibs, I was somewhat saddened to learn that that as a "fun run," this would be an untimed event. I guess their website states this, but for some reason I didn't know about it before hand. While I never complete these runs thinking I will win my division based on time, I do like the idea of timing chips on these runs, because it is just one more way to challenge myself and keep myself on track and running the whole thing.

The actual run left me feeling far more impressed than the customer service leading up to it. There were plenty of really great obstacles and I felt myself having a great time. It was chilly, but there was a moment of serious cognitive dissonance because while it was so chilly, the sun was was brutal (with sunburns being imminent). I had a great time running through the mountain biking trail portions (enough fun that I might consider doing some trail running as training), but found myself having some issues when running on (supposedly) level and flat ground.

True to form, if there is a hole anywhere within spitting distance, I'm gonna put my foot right into it and roll an ankle (something that happened THREE times on this race). No serious injuries this time (thankfully), but still enough to make me cautious about where I stepped.

The only obstacle I had difficulty with were 8 foot walls that we had to scale. I knew that I needed to get my toes between the slats but they wouldn't fit, and I didn't have the upper body strength to pull myself up (I am seriously lacking in any kind of strength, let alone arm strength). I fell off of the first one and tried a second time before making it over. The second wall in the sequence had me trying multiple times before giving up and going around. I told Ray it was no big deal, I'd skip it and I'd be fine, but about 10 yards later, I was getting down on myself.

I don't want to be one of those people who does things half assed and who gives up when the going gets tough. While I'd never judge anyone else for not starting something or for giving up when they knew their limitations...to me, the only thing that is worse than not trying something is quitting before absolutely necessary.

Ray saw me getting upset and he stopped me to give me a pep talk.

And I decided we needed to turn around and I needed to give that wall another fair shot. This time, I accepted his help in the form of a leg-up, I struggled to get my upper body wrapped over the top, and then pulled with all my might to get myself up and over the top.

It was only an 8 foot wall, but it might as well have been climbing Mt. Washington.

I would definitely be sore later, but at the time, I felt invincible.

I don't know how well I fared based on time. But what I lacked in that department, I made up in spirit and determination.

I earned this medal.

And the beer that went with it.

Half Fanatics

After finishing both the Disney Half Marathon and the ING Miami half marathon, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I had now done something that I never really believed that I would be able to do, and while not good at it, every time I was out there I felt myself being challenged in new and exciting ways.

At the ING half marathon, while we were getting ready to go to our starting corrals, my friend Shannon met up with her friend Tracy and some of their other friends who were wearing shirts from a group called Half Fanatics.

At the time I asked about it, and was just basically told that it was a running group for people who enjoy half marathons, and I didnt think much more of it.

Later that morning, around mile 5 of the ING Miami race, I caught up to a man who was wearing a half fanatics singlet. He heard me huffing and puffing (my asthma was acting up and I was just coming off the flu). As a veteran runner who had run dozens of half marathons by following the Galloway interval program, he gave me some tips about how to regulate my breathing. Before he left me behind, I asked him about who half fanatics were. He explained that half fanatics are runners who just may be a little crazy when it comes to running half marathons, and gave me their website. I was intrigued and looked forward to getting home to look them up.

According to their main entry page on their website, one just might be half fanatic material if they answer yes to any of the following:

• Do your thoughts switch to the next scheduled race immediately after finishing a Half Marathon?
• Are you signed up for more than one race right now?
• Do you know specifics about many of the Half Marathons? Dates, courses, years run, etc.?
• Do you know the story of how the Half Marathon got started?
• Do you read books on running like Marathon and Beyond?
• Is www.marathonmaniacs.com book marked on your computer? Do you look at the race schedule more than once a week?
• Do you start to feel down when you haven't run a race in a while?
• Are your closets and dressers filled with race t-shirts?
• When asked about your racing from none running people, do you find yourself talking with great passion to the point that the person that asked the question regrets ever asking?
• Have you run races on back to back weekends? Or better yet back to back days?
• Have you run a Half Marathon as a training run? Or just to pace a friend?
• When asked by loved ones what your plans are for the weekend, you feel guilty telling them your running another half marathon so you tell them "it's only a 10K this weekend"?
• Do you plan all your vacations around a races? 

While I certainly can't answer yes to all of these questions (like seriously, there is a book called Marathon and Beyond, and it might be important to read?), I felt myself really enjoying the 13.1 mile distance (at least the first 13 miles, because the last point one will getcha!), and easily envisioned 13.1 becoming the distance of choice for my running.

Within this club, the degree of fanaticism is measured in moons, and runners must qualify for their membership. Qualifying at the lowest level of membership is a One Moon membership (or a Neptune level membership) and this is achieved by running either 2 half marathons in 16 days OR 3 half marathons in 90 days.

Well, crap. I actually qualified by running my first 2 half marathons in less than 16 days! I hadn't been so excited in a long time. This was a chance for me to be a part of something much bigger than myself. It excited me almost as much as getting my vest for the varsity ski team in high school, or getting my jacket to go to the National Karate Tournament in 2007. 

This was my chance to (if not be good at something) be the best that I can possibly be at something. This was my chance to join a group of people who would  nurture my desire to better myself. This was a chance for me to find support when my husband or my local running friends couldn't be there for me.

And this was exciting. 

I registered with them and was assigned number 3593. What does registration get me, you might ask? Really, it just amounts to bragging rights. And knowing you have a support system at any half marathon you go to, because even if you go to a race alone, there may be other fanatics there. Because really, Half Fanatics is a group of thousands of running friends that you haven't quite met yet.

I ordered a race singlet, and I anxiously awaited my next half marathon opportunity so that I could proudly wear it, and start meeting new people.

And it wouldn't take long. I'd already signed up for a couple more... because, yeah... I'd already become half marathon crazy.  
 
Half marathon crazy enough to think that maybe it might be fun to do 13 half marathons (13.1 miles) in 2013. Yeah, my membership to half fanatics came with yet another ridiculous goal. Will I be able to do it?

ING Miami - January 27, 2013

If I had been gauging all half marathon experiences by my experience at the Disney Half, I'm not sure I would have take a second foray into the world of half marathoning. But I had been doing some promotions work for the folks who promoted the ING Miami marathon and half marathon, and had earned free entry into the race... so why not take advantage of it?

Unfortunately I had a lot going on. I had returned from my first half marathon with the flu. I was supposed to be finishing the final preparations for my doctoral comprehensive exam, but instead I was stuck on the couch for 2 weeks, drinking hot toddies of Honey Jack with lemon, in the hopes that it would quell my cough. Of course I'm an idiot and didn't realize that I had the flu until it was too late for Tamiflu, So I had no choice but to let this sickness run its course.

And I had other stressors in my life too (aside from spending the 2 weeks between Disney and ING wasted on the couch and nursing the sore groin that had acted up at Disney). I was also right smack in the middle of my qualifying exam for my Ph.D. program... an exam which would determine whether I was eligible to begin writing my dissertation or not. This exam was a 3 part exam, each consisting of a 24 hour period, which ran Tuesday, Thursday and Monday. The ING would provide a good study break on the Sunday smack in the middle of the exam period... but it was also an added stress.*

On the morning of January 27th, Ray and I once again woke up at 3:00 am to be out the door and at our friend Shannon's house by 4. On the way out the door, I grabbed my bagel and was upset to realize that we didn't actually have any bananas (which had become a pre-race staple for me). I shook it off thinking no big deal, and made a mental note to plan better next time.

At Shannon's house, we met our friend Steve-Dave, and then we all drove down to Miami together. Parking and finding our corrals was uneventful. We said goodbye to Shannon as she split off from us to find her own corral.

Ray wasn't planning to run the race with me (because he said he would only do one half marathon per year and we already met that quota with the Disney half), but as Steve-Dave declared a similar anticipated finish time, he remained with me until the start of the race.

Steve-Dave and me at the start line.

I was nervous about running another race alone (Steve-Dave would leave me after our corral actually started). I was jittery about running when I'd spent the past few days coughing up stuff straight out of a Mucinex commercial. I was worried that my inhaler just wouldn't cut it. And really? I had to pee???? Why is it that no matter how many times I hit the bathroom before a race, I always have to go immediately before the race is about to start?

I briefly debated running to the port-o-lets, but I knew that I wouldn't have enough time to make it back to Steve-Dave before the start of the race. I thought about just throwing in the towel and not running at all. I wasn't feeling well, afterall. I knew nobody would hold it against me if I decided to just go sit this one out.

But then I thought about it a little more deeply, and reminded myself that I've sat out most of my life. Starting and not finishing is far better than not starting at all.

And so when our corral crossed the start line, I popped a cough drop in my mouth and I started. Steve-Dave had said that because he was a little under-trained, he would hang with me for awhile. But before we even got to the first 0.1 mile to turn onto the MacArthur Causeway, he was already pulling away from me. I told him to go ahead without me, and began the climb. The cough drop was working its magic, and I felt good. The sun rose over the seaport, and we saw the gorgeous view of the cruise ships, and I felt great. I had a little achiness in my groin, but that was to be expected.


The MacArthur Causeway to the beach was long. But somewhere along the way, I managed to get into a groove. I talked to a couple other runners, and we shared some motivational words. I would pass a girl, then she would pass me, then I would pass her again. She would wind up playing a crucial role in my finishing. Everytime that I felt that I was losing pace, I would look around for her and gauge myself by wherever she was. Sure, I had my Gymboss interval timer, but I tend to use other people as markers when I am on a course. Not really ideal, but I haven't been able to break myself of this habit yet.

For the first time ever, I was wearing a skirt (Running Skirt brand). I really liked how regulated my body temperature seemed to be without my usual capris. I had applied liberal amounts of Body Glide between my thighs before the race, but around mile 6, it began to wear off, and I was chafing something fierce. At the mile 7 med stop, I grabbed some vaseline and applied liberally. I hate the feeling of vaseline and until it gets sweaty, I find that it only makes my skin stick more than it actually prevents chaffing. But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. And at that point, I was getting desperate.

Once that mess cleared up, I got back into a groove. The course was gorgeous. The weather was awesome. Other than the chaffing, I felt really good. Until I hit the Venetian Islands and Causeway heading back toward downtown Miami between miles 8-10. Prior to this race, I hadn't had a lot of experience driving through this area, so running it felt fairly new to me. I had expected a couple of large bridges, but instead, it was like a big joke. I thought that was the last bridge, then suddenly, I had another to run over. Then I thought that was the last one, and then there was another. And on. And on. And on. Forever.

Finally, the end of the bridges was in sight. I was on the descent from the final bridge and on track to beat my Disney time by about 15 minutes, when out of nowhere, my left calf seized up. I took a couple of tentative steps to try to shake it off, but the pain quickly shot throughout my body. Before I knew it, I was seeing myself in slow motion, losing my step and falling to the ground. I didn't have time to put my hands out to catch myself, and it was certain to end in a bloody mess.

And out of nowhere, I feel hands underneath my arms, and a voice over my shoulder saying "I gotcha." The 2 women walked me to a nearby police officer and handed me off to him. He started to radio for help, but I asked him not to. I knew I'd be ok, and I really just needed to stretch my seizing muscle.

After about 5 minutes, I was on my way again, this time resorting to walking. I made a mental note to never skip my pre-race banana again, and maybe not to spend the week before a race dehydrating myself with whisky. I tried my best to shake it off, but the reality was that I was devastated that this was my second half marathon and I found myself (once again) walking the last 3 miles. I had ONE goal in mind when I started this race, and now I was sure that I wouldn't reach it.

All I wanted was to finish this race 2 minutes faster than my Disney 3:35:28.

That would translate to 11 seconds per mile, and up until the cramp incident, it felt like I was going to blow that time out of the water. But now, I wasn't so sure. Now, I'd be lucky if I'd even make it across the finish line.

At mile marker 11, I passed Ray who was cheering me on. He gave me a couple Twizzlers to help boost my morale. Twizzlers on a race are like Mana from the Heavens, and immediately they began to help lift my spirits. Seeing him was really nice too. He is such a supportive, great man.

Another 2.1 miles through the city streets and we were at the finish. Coming into the final chute, I saw the girl I had been using as my pacer during the early part of the race. I plowed through my pain and sprinted to her side. And we crossed the finish line together.

Steve-Dave, Shannon and me after finishing ING

And wouldn't you know, I finished 2 minutes faster than my Disney 3:35:28.

Actually it was over 3 minutes faster.

Chip: 3:32:09
Pace: 16:11
OA: 14312/14878
Sex: 7173/7586
Div: 1226/1274






*The next day, I returned to school to finish my exam. It would be over a month before I got results, but I guess the study break worked... because I passed!