OORAH ! … Marine Corp Half Marathon recap

oorah …what a medal!

I ran with the Marines on Sunday and it was great. Every road race should end with a man in uniform yelling at you to “RUN IT IN. THIS IS A RUN, NOT A WALK!” As the Marines say, OORAH. So here is my recap of the race, the people, the nightmare called Hospital Hill and the magic of running with the military.
Why a Marine Corp Marathon (MCM) race? The Marines now organize a series of finely executed races. It would be folly to think the Marines could do otherwise. The most well-known is now the Marathon which, like so many other exceptional road races, sells-out within hours of opening each year. There is a gentleman at our local gym who had been a regular of the Marine Marathon and had encouraged Hugh to look into it. I had overheard their discussions while pounding away on the treads. Like boot camp cadence, I had heard his repeats  to do a Marine run. So the MCM Historic Half seemed a perfect fit. The race became part of our 2013 calendar as soon as registration opened. The MCM Half was set for May 19 and would mark my 5th completed half. We would travel to Fredericksburg, Virginia to run admid cheers from some of our nations finest and test our endurance on the final 2 miles climbing the hellish Hospital Hill. Hospital Hill rises from an elevation of perhaps 50 ft. beginning at mile 10 to the crest of 300 ft. at mile 12. Two miles of elevation gain that is fully intended to break your heart and test your spirit. Nightmare. But no worries. Hugh and I cheerily continued to train and ignored the terrain to come.
Our April 5K and the St. Luke Half were in the books. So too was the glow of the Broad Street 10 miler. Our march  south to Fredericksburg began on Saturday morning May 18. The weather forecast for the entire East Coast was dreary. Dreary through PA, Maryland, DC and into Virginia. All of our races up to this point had been blessed. We had run through cool breezes and dappled sunshine. No blistering heat or torrents of rain. About the worst weather I had run in had been the bitter cold and wind of the February Frozen Foot. As we drove, Hugh assured me that, barring a down pour, this was the ideal running weather. He was right.
We managed through the parking lot that was I-95 South heading through DC into Virginia. Ten lanes (north and south bound) jammed solid! It was mind (and butt) numbing. We arrived in time to hit the expo. It was fairly sparse by the time we arrived late Saturday. There were 3 races running on Sunday: the Semper Fi 5K,  10K and  Historic Half. Each race occupying sections of the same course and at various start times. We headed to get our gear. Hugh’s bib was there but mine was noted as a “lost” bib. Never fear. The Marines had it covered and I was directed to another table and given a new bib with the even classier number 7771. We wandered the vendors and happened on  two favs. The one being the Active Sol sunglass gal whom we had met at the Miami Marathon on January. These are the glasses I wear ALL the time and model in many of my race/blog photos. Great quality and price. We chatted and bought 2 newer lightweight models. Our second stop was the Semper Fi Fund booth to support our military families. Hugh got an awesome running hat and shirt and supported a great cause. The win/win of running!!
We were ready. We stopped at Cracker Barrel to chow down on green beans, chicken and dumplings and salad. We downed several last tall glasses of water and iced tea and headed for the hotel. The evening proved to be illuminating. I am not sure if it was the civil war shadows of the south, or pressing power of all things Marine, or the 300 foot cliff to scale in the morning … but we got quiet. We got thoughtful. I began my ritual, “will I do well Hugh?” Hugh assured me I would. We talked about the nerves of doing seemingly impossible things. Like having to complete your first run in the rain. Running for 2 or 3 hours in a down pour. I thought then suddenly of all those military men. Just ordinary men who did something extraordinary. They were in a boat and had to run through chest deep water toward the shore. While other men were shooting at them from above. Then Hugh really put it into perspective:
Hugh: “Weeze. You know why there were guns in the boats on D Day?”
Weeze: “no.”
Hugh: “To make sure the men left the boats.”

I was suddenly not so nervous anymore.

Our night continued after that and the fog of nerves were gone and I suddenly saw our race preparations as so funny. Runners can be such divas. Absolute divas. The first man to complete a marathon was the legendary Pheidippides who ran it AFTER fighting and winning against Persians in the battle of Marathon and, it would seem, also did so naked! No body glide for dear Pheidippides. Upon considering the rigors which faced early athletes, the following exchange borders on the ridiculous:
Weeze: “I don’t know whether to wear my aqua under armour or the day glow pink?”
Hugh: “Either color looks really cute on you. I am not sure what socks to wear. The new cotton or the synthetic? Have you seen my new Spi Belt?”
Weeze: “How about fuel for tomorrow? Will you carry Fig Newtons? They’ll have Sport Beans at mile 7 I think, but I am not sure it is the flavor I like.”
Hugh: “We just have make sure to get there with time for me to go to the bathroom before the race. I hate to be rushed at the port-o-lets.”

and on and on and on … running naked after a battle indeed!

The morning bugle sounded at 5:00am. Rise and shine Marines! We left the hotel by 6:00am and arrived at the Walmart parking area by 6:15am along with about 10,000 hearty souls. The morning was solid grey and foggy. It was either drizzle or humidity in the air, I frankly could not tell. Luckily the temp remained in the mid 60′s and we would be on the cool side throughout the run without the potential for blistering southern heat. Hugh’s prediction for perfect running weather was spot on. Had I known the challenges of the course, I would never have wished for sunshine. The overcast skies and light rain proved to be heaven sent once more. The parking was about one mile from the start. We arrived in the area for the 5k and 10k shuttles and as we stepped out of our car were immediately greeted by the presence of Marines dressed in their desert khakis.

My first Marine greeting as I stepped out of the car at Walmart. “Good morning, Ma’am”

Of the Marine presence throughout the race, allow me to share  ex-Navy man Hugh’s observation made as drove home after the race:
Hugh: “Weeze, you know what I noticed about all the Marines?”
Weeze: “what?”
Hugh: “They were all GORGEOUS!”

True that Hugh! Every single military man and woman at the race was exquisite. The finest. Uniform impeccable. Cap placed at the pin-point correct angle atop the head. Every “Yes, Ma’am” and “Yes, Sir” crisp as a bell. For this race, the ones doing the cheering  looked  better and more athletic than those doing the running.

Marine Corp mile 13 …before the race

We walked to the start, passing the mile 13 marker on the way. The race would double back and finish at the start. The corrals were the pick-your-own variety. Hugh and I placed ourselves in the middle of the 8,000+ half marathon runners. We had also heard during the pre-race announcements that actor Sean Astin (Samwise in the Lord of the Rings trilogy) was running the race as well. The Marine races are known for drawing/inviting celebrity runners to their events. Sean proudly announced over the loud speaker that he was planning to take it easy as he was training for the San Francisco Marathon and was looking for a 2:15 finish. I am sure some of us began to envision Hospital Hill as Mount Mordor with Sam leading the charge.

It was a great race start. Quiet grey southern morning surrounded by the Stars and Stripes, those who serve  and 8,000 brave civilian souls all standing at attention  to the sounds of our  National Anthem. Then the cannon shot sounded and we were off. It took about 7 minutes for Hugh and I to cross the start and off Hugh went in his bright red Semper Fi hat. 

I began my pace. I had taken 5 days rest from running in order to be ready with a fresh set of legs. The first mile was sweet. It was not hard to find my pace. The crowd shot off as usual. All running fast out of the gate. The first three miles were running out of the strip mall area selected for the start. We turned corners and finally found ourselves approaching the first of the many hills and valleys that would make of the Historic Half. We entered a tree lined suburb at mile 3 and I high-fived a little girl who had come out in her pajamas to see all the runners on this rainy Sunday morning. I continued to thank all the Marines stationed throughout the ups and downs to cheer us on. “Go Ma’am, you got this.” “Thank you.”

The suburb was a blur of up and down, up and down. I found I was passing the same 2 women between mile 3 and 5. They had on matching purple shirts and were the same size and build. They were runner/walkers. They would run for perhaps 2-3 minutes and then walk. They sailed past me on the run but I would pass them during their walk and on all the hills. At mile 5 we hit a hill and I passed them. Then they were behind me. Over the miles  I thought of them behind me and kept running. I checked my pace at the 6.1 mile split and I was running at my Broad Street pace. I was well under a 14 minute mile. I went forward past the statues in the parks and the neighborhoods full of cheery souls on their porches and lawns with signs and cow bells. Mile seven greeted me with men in kilts playing bagpipes! Marines and men in kilts. This was my kind of race. I gave them the thumbs up and kept running. We then were entering old town Fredericksburg. The crowds continued to cheer despite the gloom. I recall running past a beautiful woman who seemed to be dressed for church. Her hair was silver and she was dressed in a beautiful flowing camel colored dress. She smiled at all of us running past in our spandex and sneakers and smiled a sweet smile. I thought she was the ideal southern lady walking up the hill to church.

As I left old town I began to focus on Hospital Hill. I know elite marathoner Ryan Hall tells us to “run the mile you’re in” but I could not help but think about the miles to come. I was at mile 8 and feeling strong. All the core work and rest had seemingly paid off. I felt very strong and was still running at a solid pace. I glanced at my watch and realized that I could do this thing in a record time under 3 hours! I could run 13.1 in under 3 hours. I was amazed. But I had one ^&%^$$%$% of a hill to climb. One thing I have learned about me and running is that I like hills. Not sure if it is the Chi Running that I am trying to practice, but I draw energy from hills. I do not like running long flat distances. Mountains are another story. And Hospital Hill is more mountain than hill.

At mile 9 my strategy became … just keep running. The Marines knew what was coming and suddenly there were more of them. Stationed along the sides cheering “you got this” and “you ready for this hill!” And this is how it went down … leaving mile 9 you come down a hill out of development and around a sharp turn to the right onto a highway. Ahead of you, perhaps a quarter mile away stands another START gate. As tall as the start gate you ran under at the beginning of the race. Next to the gate is the flag marking MILE 10. That is the start of Hospital Hill. There is an announcer shouting out to the runners. “Are you ready for this?” And we all just keep running. You pass under the gate and curve to the right and you are face to face with a wall. It should be called Hospital Wall. You begin the ascent. I made it half way up Hospital  Hill. I made it to the parking garage. After the race Hugh told me he had simply walked up the ^$#@#$(. It became a matter of “do I want to be able to live to enjoy this race at the end.” It was that brutal. I walked from mile 10.5 to 11 and then got back into a slow jog. I made it to mile 12 and then walked again. The Marines had kindly suspended a huge American Flag at the end of Hospital Hill (about mile 12.5) and I heard Hugh’s voice, “WEEZE!” I saw him in the crowd and I think I laughed.

Louise approaching the last oorah toward the finish

I rounded the corner and headed to the finish. At mile 13 the Marine shouted “RUN IT IN. THIS IS A RUN, NOT A WALK!” and boy did I run it in. I knew at mile 12 that I would not beat the 3 hour mark, BUT I also knew that I would have a new PR for a half marathon!!! I was thrilled. The finish was even better. I ran fast over the timing mat knowing that I was close to 3 hours. My final time was 3:08:33. Not bad for walking 1 mile of the course. I walked over toward a line of perhaps 15 Marines all holding medals. One of them said “Congratulations Ma’am, you did it” and he held the medal up and out over my head to place it around my neck. I leaned in and he placed it over my head. That was cool. I thanked him. I moved toward the food stands giddy with the fact that I knew now that I can break the 3 hour mark. There was another handsome sweet Marine standing in front of me smiling and giggling. He must have recognized that prideful self-satisfied smile on my face. I looked at him and I said “You guys run that hill for fun don’t you?” He smiled this wonderful knowing smile and chuckled. I jokingly punched his arm and said “it is all in a days work for you Marines,  I know it” and he really did just give me the sweetest smile. It was a great race. You never know how strong you are until you push yourself harder than you ever have. Or had someone else push you beyond what you thought capable. The Marines kicked our collective butts on Sunday and it was great!

So what did I learn from the Marine Corp Historic Half Marathon?

• Contrary to some reviewers that qualified it as a race for beginners, Hugh and I both agreed that on a scale of 1-10 (easy to hard) , this race would rate a 8-9 for difficulty (based on courses we know). It is not just Hospital Hill. This course tests you over and over again with numerous hills and tight turns. Your legs will feel like noodles at the end. As one running blogger commented, “leave it to the Marines to find every damn hill in Fredericksburg.” He had it spot on.
• Pacing is so important. I was ready for this race. This was my toughest race to date and I scored my best time. Pacing was critical. At points in the race I was reminded of the women running the Boston Marathon this year. The leaders remained back in the pack through the majority of the race as solo runners shot out to take the lead. They were all gobbled up by the pack by mile 20. Pacing is critical and it worked well for me in this run.
• Tangents. Why run extra distance? There were a remarkable number of tight 90 degree turns in this race. I was surprised again to see the number of runners who ran wide around these turns. Even if you are running a slow pace (Like me) there still is no need to run extra mileage. I kept it close on the tangents and I know it paid off.
• Core, Core, core, core. Core work is vital. I have been focusing on doing simple core exercises every night. I am up to doing 100-150 of the bicycle exercises nightly. I think that helped in addition to my other stretches.

So that is my review of the Marine Corp Historic Half. Hugh would like to make it an annual race. It was that fun. This was the 6th running of the race with 8,000 runners. Each year the field increases. I think the numbers will begin to swell. It is that good of a race all around – plus the medal is HUGE.

Marine Corp Half Marathon … my new PR

This was the last of our spring running races. My focus will be on swimming and preparing for the Liberty Island 1.2k NYC swim on August 16. I will continue to run and am hoping to average 20 miles per week in addition to the swimming. Our next race will be the Marshalton Triathlon on October 6 . Our next running race will be the Baltimore Running Festival on October 12. I have entered Hugh and I to run the 5K at 8:15am followed by the half marathon at 9:45am the same day.I think we are up for the challenge. The weight continues to slide off. I am down 2.5 lbs. in the past week toward my 4-4-4 goal for November 2013. I’ll have a special fun posting later this week. So until then, be good to each other -

Cheers!

Love your feet / save a woman … Thistle Farms

Thistle Farms Oil set

I love my feet. I pamper my feet. Not sure how many runners pamper their feet. My feet are gold to me. My feet have allowed me to do some marvelous things lately. But I was not always so kind of my feet. For most of my life, my feet were … well, just feet. Beyond the occasional trimming and  polish, they languished and were ignored. Two years ago I had my first foot reflexology session and I found that my feet were distressed. The masseuse applied pressure to some hidden G-spot near my right big toe and I was no longer on this planet. I had been transported to a land of rainbows and butterflies. Then there was the Internet posted reflexology diagram for the feet:

reflexology chart for the feet

I was sold. I needed to take better care of my feet. At the same time I was falling in love with my feet, I had the opportunity to meet women from Magdelene House/Thistle Farms who had come to our college campus to speak and spread the word about their program and social enterprise. It was a win/win. These women were amazing. Magdelene House is a residential program for women who have suffered and survived lives of prostitution, trafficking and abuse. They are magnificent. Their social enterprise is Thistle Farms. Creating works of humanity and healing from the Thistle flower. They partner with women internationally, from Rwanda, Kenya and Ghana to make and distribute a range of good things. These gals are the real deal. And they were magnetic. So full of energy and excitement. As their escort on campus we had spent part of one  morning walking on the Conewago Trail as part of their self-care promise to get ready for the day. I was able to talk with the project founder, Becca Stevens about why she started Magdalene. “People would say  that these women need to get off the street. But they had no where to go. I started with a desire to simply provide a place for 3 maybe 4 women who wanted to change their lives. Somewhere safe that they could go. Just a house. Any house. And Magdalene was born.” The program has graduated numerous women. It teaches them to love and value themselves. It empowers them through the skills of creating, marketing , and distributing Thistle Farm products. It empowers them to establish their international partnerships. It empowers them to stand in front of audiences and talk about their lives and change. It is a great project. And their products are tremendous. When they visited I bought as much as my check book allowed. I bought the set of three healing oils , body butter, body scrub, notecards and lip smoothies. I left work that day smelling of Nashville Thistles and Rwandan Geranium.

My feet needed help. I had begun running a lot. I developed plantar fasciitis on my left foot and it was killing me. Deep tissue massage is highly recommended for runners. I was tired of nights interrupted by my throbbing left sole and happened upon the set of healing oils from the women of Magdalene. I connected the dots and began to massage my left foot with the Tea Tree oil. It felt better. Each night the foot improved. I now have no foot pain and only minimal soreness after long runs. The soreness is solved by my nightly ritual of massaging the foot with one of the oils. Now I can’t wait to climb into bed and spend 5-10 minutes watching the Weather Channel and massaging my feet (yes, I do both now). Love your feet. It is worth it.

So as I continue to rest up and relax for the race on Sunday, I wanted to pass along these great ideas. Do yourself or some great woman (or man) you know a favor and get them healing oils. We all deserve a little pampering. I did note in visiting the Thistle Farm website that the set has been repackaged. I included a photo of my original set packaged in glass bottles in their original Thistle Box. They last forever because you only need a few drops. I also HIGHLY recommend the lip smoothie as well. It is amazing. Also please spend some time reading about this remarkable program and these women. Change happens in many ways and sometimes with small steps - it could be running, walking , maybe helping just 1 person get off the street or just simply beginning to love yourself.

Cheers!

Still believe ‘a calorie is a calorie’? … guest blogger

guest blogger buddy

It is taper week in advance of my running of the Marine Corp 13.1 on Sunday. Not much excitement on the fitness front other than Weeze and Hugh getting to relax and rest before we tackle Hospital Hill. I had a blast spending time with my fitness mentor and pal, Gay during the Broad Street Run weekend May 4-5. The topic of how we fuel our bodies came up. Not all calories are created equal. She had passed along the following email to me several weeks prior and I asked if I might share it with everyone as a guest posting. It is thoughtful information. How do you fuel your body? Still think you burn a calorie worth of almonds the same way you may (or may not) burn a calorie of sugar? Read on … (source: Huffington Post and Robert Lustig, M. D., February 2013)

Still Believe ‘A Calorie Is a Calorie’?

Posted: 02/27/2013 4:02 pm

If you do, you fly in the face of mounting and incontrovertible evidence that some calories — in particular, “sugar calories” — are jeopardizing both your and your family’s health. Physicians and politicians who cling to the dogma that “all calories should be treated equally” imperil our country’s health care system, food supply and standing in the world for the next hundred years.

A calorie is a measurement of energy (a matter of physics), not a value judgment on where that energy goes (a matter of biochemistry). As my book Fat Chanceexplains, you get sick from inappropriate energy storage (in your liver and muscle), not defective energy balance (bigger love handles). Nonetheless, “a calorie is a calorie” continues to be promulgated by the food industry as their defense against their culpability for the current epidemic of obesity and chronic metabolic disease. But it is as dishonest as a three-dollar bill. Here are just four examples that refute this dogma:

1. Fiber. You eat 160 calories in almonds, but you absorb only 130. The fiber in the almonds delays absorption of calories into the bloodstream, delivering those calories to the bacteria in your intestine, which chew them up. Because a calorie is not a calorie.
2. Protein. When it comes to food, you have to put energy in to get energy out. You have to puttwice as much energy in to metabolize protein as you do carbohydrate; this is called the thermic effect of food. So protein wastes more energy in its processing. Plus protein reduces hunger better than carbohydrate. Because a calorie is not a calorie.
3. Fat. All fats release nine calories per gram when burned. But omega-3 fats are heart-healthy and will save your life, while trans fats clog your arteries, leading to a heart attack. Because a calorie is not a calorie.
4. Sugar. This is the “big kahuna” of the “big lie.” Sugar is not one chemical. It’s two. Glucose is the energy of life. Every cell in every organism on the planet can burn glucose for energy. Glucose is mildly sweet, but not very interesting (think molasses). Fructose is an entirely different animal. Fructose is very sweet, the molecule we seek. Both burn at four calories per gram. If fructose were just like glucose, then sugar or high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS) would be just like starch. But fructose is not glucose. Because a calorie is not a calorie.

Up until now, scientists have shown that sugar is “associated” or “correlated” with various chronic metabolic diseases. For instance, the increase in sugar consumption over the past 30 years paralleled the increase in obesity, diabetes and heart disease. Areas that drink more soda (e.g., the American Southeast) experience higher prevalences of these diseases. But correlation is not causation.

Which direction do the data go? Does sugar cause obesity and metabolic disease? Or do obese people with metabolic disease drink soda? You can’t tell, because you only have one point in time — the snapshot, not the movie. In the February 27 issue of the journal PLoS One, my colleagues Dr. Sanjay Basu, Paula Yoffe, Nancy Hills and I put this issue to rest, because we now have the movie.[1]

We asked the question, “What in the world’s food supply explains diabetes rates, country-by-country, over the last decade?” We melded databases from the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAOSTAT), which measures food availability, the International Diabetes Federation (IDF), which measures diabetes prevalence, the World Bank World Development Economic Indicators, and the World Health Organization Global Infobase. We assessed total calories; meat (protein); oils (fat); cereals (glucose); pulses, nuts, vegetables, roots, and tubers (fiber); fruit excluding wine (natural sugar); and sugar, sugarcrops, and sweeteners (added sugar). We controlled for poverty, urbanization, aging, and most important, obesity and physical activity.

Bottom line — only changes in sugar availability explained changes in diabetes prevalence worldwide; nothing else mattered.

Total caloric availability was unrelated to diabetes prevalence; for every extra 150 calories per day, diabetes prevalence rose by only 0.1 percent. But if those 150 calories per day happened to be a can of soda, diabetes prevalence rose 11-fold, by 1.1 percent (and Americans on average consume the added sugar equivalent of 2.5 cans of soda per day, so that’s 2.75 percent!). And this effect of sugar was exclusive of obesity; controlling for body mass index did not negate the effect. Even more important, we showed that the change in sugar availability preceded the change in diabetes (that’s cause, not effect); and we showed directionality — those countries where sugar availability rose showed increases in diabetes, while those where sugar availability fell showed decreases in diabetes. This is a very robust signal, with little noise. While epidemiology can’t prove scientific causation, the data allow for objective inference. Sugar drives diabetes worldwide, and unrelated to its calories.

When you do the math, fully one-quarter of the world’s diabetes is explained by sugar alone.

The food industry has contaminated the American food supply with added sugar to “sell more product” and thereby uphold their Wall Street mandate to increase profits. Of the 600,000 food items in the American grocery store, 80 percent have been spiked with added sugar; and the industry uses 56 other names for sugar on the label. They know when they add sugar, you buy more. And because you do not know you’re buying it, you buy even more.

The outcome: By the year 2050, one-third of all Americans will have diabetes. Trustees of the Medicare program predict that Medicare will be broke by 2024. No health care for you. Yet just six weeks ago, Coca-Cola had the temerity to introduce its two-minute ad “Coming Together,” in which they say: “All calories count” because a calorie is a calorie; if you’re fat, it’s your fault (they claim no culpability); and because they make non-caloric drinks, they’re part of the solution. The problem is that a calorie is not a calorie; if non-caloric drinks are the solution, then by inference they’re saying that caloric drinks are the problem.

Sugar in excess is a toxin, unrelated to its calories. The dose determines the poison. Like alcohol, a little sugar is fine, but a lot is not. And the food industry has put us way over our limit.

The food industry will summon their spin doctors. They will yet again argue that the statistics are wrong, the interpretation is too broad — but they will not be able to effectively refute the science. They haven’t yet, and they won’t succeed now. Sunlight is the best disinfectant, and it’s shining brightly on the food industry’s practices. They will continue the propaganda, and try to sow the seeds of doubt. But they will be on the losing end of this battle. The UK and Australia have just this past week laid down stricter guidelines for sugar consumption. The people and scientists of the United States are onto them as well. It’s just a matter of time before the politicians follow.

Robert H. Lustig, M.D., is Professor of Pediatrics at UCSF, and President of the Institute for Responsible Nutrition (responsiblefoods.org), at which the Doctors’ Food Project is the first campaign. He is currently getting his Masters in Studies of Law at UC Hastings College of the Law. His YouTube lecture, “Sugar: The Bitter Truth” has been viewed over 3 million times. His book, Fat Chance: Beating the Odds Against Sugar, Processed Food, Obesity and Disease (Hudson Street Press, 2012), is in bookstores now.

References:

[1] The relationship of sugar to population-level diabetes prevalence: an econometric analysis of repeated cross-sectional data. Basu S, Yoffe P, Hills N, Lustig RH. PLoS One Epub Feb 27, 2013.

For more by Robert Lustig, M.D., click here.

For more healthy living health news, click here.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/robert-lustig-md/sugar-toxic_b_2759564.html?utm_hp_ref=email_share

Contract with myself … second quarterly report

Making a contract with me

I make a lot of contracts with myself. I barter with myself. I can sit down and relax once I get the laundry done. I can read that book I have been meaning to get to once the bills are paid. I’ll spend time on healthier eating tomorrow, all I have time for now is something quick. I’ll stop going for the snack after work tomorrow, but right now I am starving. On and on. Sound familiar? Running, swimming, biking, stretching; they are all a serious part of my life right now. Serious, but fun as well. I do not want to get burned out. One of the running bloggers I have followed recently posted that she is burned out by all the running she has been doing. That can happen. I have tried to maintain a level of fun over the past 18 months. I have kept my goals within reason. Cross training with swimming, biking, stretching and pilates has kept life interesting. So I do not feel burned out. To the contrary, I feel great. I feel like I need to move to the next level. OK so here is the next level. I need to stop bartering and make a contract with myself.

Why a contract now? I ran an amazing Broad Street Run on Sunday. That was 7 days ago. Like the saying goes, I am stronger than I know. I hit the treadmill yesterday and while I only had time for 2 miles, they were an amazing 2 miles. I pushed myself. Today on the trail, I ran another great 5 miles. I thought a lot about what I owe myself and mostly, my body. This body has been with me for 52 years. In all honesty I have not always been good to my body. I complain about my body. The things I do not like about it. For a time I thwarted my body’s attempt to do what was best for it. I fed it improperly. I did not care for it. In the past 18 months my body has pretty much never let me down. It has gone with me to the gym. It has triumphed over adversity. It has soldiered on through miles upon miles of agony and hills. It has weathered humidity, rain, snow, sun, wind, exhaustion, starvation and every sort of ache and pain imaginable. And it has never let me down. It has rallied every time I have asked it to rally. It has recovered. It has been my friend and crossed finish lines with me and was ready for more. It has jumped in pools, biked up hills and down valleys and was ready for more. I need to be better to my body. So I am making a contract. The one thing my body is asking of me right now is to seriously lose weight. It wants to be faster. I can tell. So of all the wacky and ridiculous contracts and deals I have made in the past; this is the one I need to stick to. Simply, my contract is 4-4-4. Drop 40 lbs , 4 inches from my waist and 4 inches from my hips by the November 2013 Philadelphia Half Marathon. Done. That’s the contract. I am accountable to me. I am accountable to all you good people who have responded with love and support and given of your time to continue to follow my blogging, AND I am accountable to my dear wonderful body.

As my second quarterly report, I wanted to keep this post brief and fun as the past 2 postings have been quite the War and Peace of running. I thought it might be fun to share some product reviews. I often ask friends for tips about items they use. So here goes with some stuff I use A LOT and think is great:

Sunscreen: Neutrogena  Beach Defense
Face Lotion (BB Creme): L’Oreal Age Perfect and Skin Beautifying BB Cremes

Recommended Sunscreen and BB Cremes

Hugh and I had gotten the smaller tube of the Neutrogena Beach Defense suncreen at the Miami Marathon Expo. This stuff is great. I am not a big sunscreen user (which I know is not good), but this product has hooked me. It is not greasy at all and goes on feeling like body lotion. There is no scent and it works! Hugh and I sweat like crazy and have used this at all our races and in training and it stays for the duration. Cost is about the same as any of the better brand sunscreens. The large tube cost me around $9.00 at Giant.
I saw Diane Keaton on the TV one night looking bouncy and adorable at age 60+ hawking the L’Oreal BB Age Perfect creme. The next day I did several minutes of intense Internet research (giggle) and found that BB stands for “Beauty Balm” which seem to be cremes first made popular in Asia. So I gave it a try. I had used the Prevage line by Elizabeth Arden for several years and loved it but it is expensive. Having tired of spending the money, I had been on the look out for some solid facial cremes. I like the Kiehl’s products as well. The L’Oreal BB Creme is great. I have been using it for about 3 weeks and I have noticed improvement in my skin tone and texture. It also works as a light foundation. Most morning it really is, as Diane prompts, “…all I wear.” The price at my local Giant is $14.99 and you really use just a few pearl size drops. I also just began using the BB Creme skin beautifier as well. This is in the make-up section and is intended to offer slightly more in the area of foundation. It is more richly pigmented than the Age Perfect BB Creme.

Happy Mother’s Day to me … My new Armour Bra and running shirt!

The running girls best friend … UA

Hugh and I went shopping at Sports Authority on Saturday. We were shopping for running gear to ship to Japan for our son. I am now a complete sucker for anything in the girls/womens running section. You can have Victoria’s Secret and all the perfume you want. Me … I want a complete UA running ensemble! Hugh egged me on when he saw me caressing this exquisite minty blue top with a mesh back. He said buy it and I countered with the fact that it was a lot less expensive that perfume (cost = $22.99). Plus it was so darn cute. What really got me were the new UA Bras. I had been running in the same sports bra for the last 2.5 years. Seriously. I know. Not pretty. Finding the right sports bra is a lot like aligning the mirrors in the Hubble Telescope. It has got to be spot on or nothing will be right in the world. I tried on the first UA bra I found. The style is called My Armour Bra and do I feel empowered!

So that is all the fun for the evening. The training checklist for the week is as follows:
Monday: I am planning to run in to work. The college is about 3 miles from our house. I can then shower in the pool locker room. This will be my first attempt. If all goes well I would like to do this perhaps 1-2 times each week during the summer as a way to get my mileage in and also mix things up (include more hills)
Tuesday – Thursday: I may swim 1-2x this week but most of the week will be resting for the Marine Corp Half Marathon on Sunday.

Saturday: rest and travel to Fredericksburg
Sunday : Marine Corp Half Marathon

Wednesday look for a surprise guest posting and next Monday a recap of the Marine race and the infamous Hospital Hill at mile 10-12. Til then, be good to one another, Happy Mother’s Day to all and Cheers!

BROAD STREET RUN or…running with 39,999 of your closest friends

I ran my best for Boston! This was my most magnificent running experience to date. Yes, it was my fastest race. I ran 10 miles in 2:17:18. Which averages out to 13:44 minutes per mile. But beyond that, running the Broad Street Run 10 miler has solidified my love of Philadelphia runs. My heart belongs to the Philly Half always because it was my first love; my first completed half marathon. The Broad Street is my little love on the side. So here is the Broad Street recap burrito  - the running, people, places, plans, experience all rolled up into one blog-bite.

The backstory. My pal Gay, who has provided wit, wisdom and motivation throughout this journey had hinted at the Broad Street back in 2012 after I had completed the Philly half. It  was a familiar race for her and she encouraged it was another chance to get out and run. I was, of course, cautious having just found I had the spirit to finish 13.1. Did I have the legs to run 10 miles at a 15 minute clip solid. This all sounds very silly as I write this now. A 15 minute mile seems so long ago. But it was not so very long ago and I had serious doubts. Also, once again the details on the Broad Street Run website made it very clear that “This is a road race, not a walk. An agreement with the City of Philadelphia and its Police Department requires that all participants run a sub-15 minute per mile pace to allow the City to reopen Broad Street in a timely manner. All runners not keeping this pace will be directed to the sidewalks to allow traffic to re-open. [from Course information]” And me being ever mindful and aware of race  restrictions saw red flags. Plus there was that nasty business from the 2012 run. Servers had crashed  under the load of all those frantic runners trying to get into the race to test themselves against the course hailed as one of the fastest, flattest courses in the US by Runner’s World (indeed the US record for a 10 miler is held by Simon Wangai’s 45:16 at the 2002 Broad Street Run). The 2013 run would be open by lottery only. Who was I to take the place of some 5 minute miler? I thanked Gay for her encouragement but did not look further.

2013 began with my commitment to complete 13 races in 2013. Hugh was along for the ride (whether he knew it or not). I began blogging and focusing on moving forward one sluggish step at a time. Anything to keep me motivated through the winter months.  We clicked off the Frozen Foot 5K series in January, February and March. Clicked off the Miami Half in January and a virtual 13.1 as well. Then one day there was the posting, followed by the email. Gay had 2 bibs from the lottery for the Broad Street Run in May. Did we want to jump in? It must have been a Friday full of sunshine and happiness. In the swell of the moment I said “sure”! I signed onto the bibs. Hugh would run as “Andrew”, Gay’s 25 year old son and I would be “Christine”, one of Gay’s pals. We were in. We would run 10 miles down Broad Street with 40,000 others. All running as fast as we possibly could in one swarm from just north of City Hall past the shadow of Benjamin Franklin toward the Navy Yard. It would be glory or ruin.

I added the race to the calendar and continued on with training. My primary focus remained the daunting St. Luke’s Half. We would run this race 1 week before Broad Street and it was much more terrifying. 13.1 Lehigh County  miles against a mere 4,000 fellow runners  that I HAD to complete in 3 hours [see my April 30 recap on this race for the details]. I continued to improve slowly and dropped some more weight. St. Luke’s was in the books and the sun rose on our Broad Street weekend. Gay was on top of the logistics. A Broad Street veteran she knew where to go for the expo and bibs and also how to handle the morning of the race. She was our Sherpa. Deftly finessing 2 newbies through the acres of the Philly sports complexes on Saturday toward the race expo that was our Mt. Everest. The expo was great. Lots of fun. Hugh picked up another pair of shorts and I hit up the Bondi Band girls and grabbed a few more headbands. It was at the expo that we also took note of the tighter security. The race bags were clear plastic. For 2013, on the heels of the Boston Marathon bombings, no backpacks would be allowed on the subways and at the race. If you wanted gear along with you on race day, it had better be in one of these plastic bags. Luckily, Gay’s race vibe matched ours perfectly. She does not fuss with checking gear and she likes to get to the start EARLY. Both work for me. Many of the vendors were also selling red socks. There had been a tremendous push on the Internet (primarily via FB) for runners to wear red socks as a show of love and support to Boston (Boston Red Socks…) We had all caught on and had our socks purchased and road tested long ago. We were ready. I also purchased an awesome pair of socks made from woven bamboo. More about these and their vendor at the end of the post.

We had our bibs and were ready. We bid Gay and her hubbie, Al, farewell  as we were over-nighting with other friends and scheduled a 5:15am meet up in the Acme parking lot. We would be on the subway heading 10 miles north past city hall by 6:30am. The 4:30am alarm sounded. Our additional ground crew and amazing friends Connie and Frank , made us the best eggs breakfast in town. After another farewell (where would runners be without friends??), we shot off to get Gay. The fog of sleep was gone and I was beyond excited for this race. There were no nerves. I can only attribute it to having faced the monster and some of my worst race fears the weekend prior. I was happy and excited. I was thrilled to run for Boston. And I was returning to run through the great streets of Philadelphia.

Broad Street bound on the subway

The subway was free. Only Broad Street runners were running it at this hour. Hugh, Gay and I were easily in the older minority. I snapped a photo of the group of giggling girls that came on after us, all in their red socked glory. Then an additional one of Hugh and Gay -

Red socks on the subway for Boston

Hugh and Gay

We unloaded at the Olney station – a happy crew of thousands and headed in one direction and our shared purpose; to find the race start. I passed by several uniformed officers who had big bright smiles. It was a happy sight. Just a big bunch of goof balls up at the crack of dawn to run 10 miles down the center of the city. All shapes, sizes, ages, colors. I wished them good morning and got cheery smiles and replies from each of them. “Have a great run Miss.” My day was made already. We climbed out of the subway and into a grey cold morning. We were the early crew so we hit the port-o-lets with no lines and then waited on the curb next to the yellow corral. As “Christine”, I was running as a 38 year old dancer with a way better pace. I was in the yellow corral. This was not the last corral that I was used to inhabiting. Hugh, as “Andrew”, was placed in the even faster green corral but as is his style he stayed with us in the yellow zone. We all waited together and had so much fun chatting with other runners and just trying to keep warm. We had all packed on layers of extra clothing that we should shed and discard. This clothing is then picked up and distributed to shelters in Philadelphia by the good people of Clothes-Pin. It is the win-win of running. Hugh used the space blankets from our Philly marathon last November to keep warm and loves them so much he refused to discard them. He ran the race with 2 foil space blankets neatly tucked into his shorts like a tutu. The security continued to build. Homeland security personnel walked throughout the runners and perched atop the buildings of the Einstein Medical Center. There was a seeming flock of helicopters circling as we waited. Hugh decided on one last potty stop and he left to return almost an hour later. Long lines. I also tried. Waited for 45 minutes and decided I did not need to go as badly as I thought. I could hold it 10 miles. Contrary to some runners, I cannot stop to use the pot when running. Once I start I keep going.

The start was set for 8:30am. There were now 40,000 men, women and some children on the northern reaches of Broad Street. Gay said it would take about 30 minutes for us to cross  the start after the gun. As we stepped onto Broad Street the clouds parted and the sun peeped out. It would be a beautiful day.

We began to move. I was looking at my feet and all the many colored sneakers. Like a rainbow. I then heard the sound of Neil Diamond singing “Sweet Caroline” as we approached the start and then runners chanting and fist pumping to the song. Philadelphia was going to make this a party to remember. The start was on a slight hill so I could already see the sea of runners stretched out before me. All throbbing to that ancestral beat of one foot in front of the other. Breathtaking. I told myself right then that I had to remember this moment. This was one of those big blessed moments in your life. Thankful beyond words for two legs to run on. I began to run.

I quickly got over to the right as I was in a corral of fast runners. Everyone was immediately at 10 minute per mile paces compared to my 14 minute pace. The first 15 seconds were hairy as I was sure I would trip someone sprinting past me. But each good soul saw I was working my way over and I moved as quickly as I could to the right. Once on the right I focused on recovering my pace and having a good time. The first three miles were a blur of thousands running past me. By mile four the dust had settled and I had found my group. The cheering crowds were amazing. I high fives children and police standing on the side. Music played and people cheered, clapped and waved flags. And people yelled “Thank you.” They were thanking us. They were yelling thank you for coming to the city. Thank you for running for Boston. Thank you for America. Wow. And on I ran.

I looked up and saw the outline of City Hall in center city. It is a beautiful iconic building. I tried to freeze that picture in my mind. Many runners were stopping to snap a photo with their cameras. I kept running but kept looking up to keep that image. City Hall with all the people filling the street running toward it in the sunshine. Wow. And on I ran.

I ran down the center of Broad Street. I would head to the side to high five a crowd but return to the center so as not to run on a tilt. It was then I saw the clock for the 5 mile split. It read 1:37 which meant I was at one hour! I had just run 5 miles in one hour. I was at a 12 minute per mile pace. I was flying. I could do this thing in record time. Was this what running was like. I approached City Hall amid the cheers and made sure to hit the tangents; running tight around the corners. As I cleared City Hall I saw Ed Rendell (once mayor, once governor) and slapped him a high five. I just slapped the governor. Wow. And on I ran.

People shouted “Welcome to South Philly Baby.” It was great. The vibe was electric. Like the other side of the tracks. Younger crowd. I saw a young girl with a sign reading “You got stamina. CALL ME.” I laughed at that one. I sailed through the water stations. People kept shouting “Keep Running. Their behind you.” I laughed at that too. And then it hit me. I was IN the race. I finally felt IN the race. I wasn’t a spectator. The crowds were still there. The music was still playing. The water stations were still up and running strong. I was IN the race. That felt great. Wow. And on I ran.

I saw mile 7. Big bright blue flag and then I heard a sound. Inside my head. “Where is mile 8?” It was the wall talking. I hit the wall at 7 and could not wait to see mile 8 and then mile 9 and where in the world was mile 10? The last three I hit the wall. I kept running but slowed. I saw the crowds and was so thankful for their shouts. “Keep going. You’re almost there!” Wow. And on I ran.

Mile 9 passed and I was never so happy to see an emergency road sign . The city had the following message flashing on the sign in bright neon, “Half Mile to go”. Thank you Philadelphia. That was brilliant. I can do a half mile. I ran on through the gates of the Philadelphia Navy Yard. Gay had already warned me that the finish was a quarter mile BEYOND the gates. I kept running and entered the crowd surrounding the finish amid cheers of “keep going you got this.” Huge Navy ships appeared to my right. I wanted to take it all in and still look for Hugh. I saw him on my left just before the finish line. I called out and he laughed because he missed this photo. I did not want to stop and I sprinted for the finish.

I stopped by chronometer. I closed my eyes and looked at my watch. 2:17. I wanted to cry. 13 minute mile. I just ran 10 miles in my best time. I high fived each of the service men and women lining the finish and thanked them. I got my medal. Wow!

Hugh, Gay and I met up. They had sailed as well. Hugh did a 9:58 mile and finished at 1:39:39. Gay ran true to form at an even 10 minute mile pace and was in 20 seconds behind Hugh at 1:40. It was a perfect running day. OK, I did end finish the day crawling to the car with stomach cramps. But I decided if that’s what my body needed to do, it had earned the right to cramp up on me. By 6pm that evening I was feeling fine.

And so my love story with the city of Philadelphia continues. I plan to make the Broad Street run an annual tradition. I will be back on 2014. Hugh will too. Thank you Gay once again for encouraging me to say yes.

I wanted to close with a few meaningful odds and ends. One of the other reasons I love these 2 great Philly races is that they are sponsored by the city. My family is from Philadelphia (Germantown to be specific). I love the city. The Broad Street Run – from what I observed – was magnificently well-organized and beautiful blended to represent it as a best-of-the city run. It also benefits something I am immensely supportive of.  It supports the Parks and Rec Department.

Hugh and I also share our race stories as we return home from our runs. He shared the following.
Hugh: “Did you see the child at Temple University Hospital?”
Louise: “No”
Hugh: ” It was obvious he was a cancer patient. Very sick. He was in a wheelchair. Really wrapped in blankets. With staff. Close to the road. The runners were all going over and thanking him as they ran by.”

wow.

Lastly. I have to share this. Random but worthwhile. I returned home from my triumph and checked Facebook. One of the gals in the group posted a stunning picture. There she is. Older, shapely, beautiful  woman from San Diego. Smiling from ear to ear at the camera with her medal. And her caption to the photo reads ” Race #9 for 2013 in the books. I was the last finisher in the half marathon. I am thrilled. Yay me!” Wow.

Life really is too good somedays. I promised to share information on the bamboo socks and shirt we got at the expo. I am wearing the socks as I type and they are heaven. Check out the website. My sense is we may be seeing more bamboo and coconut in running and sporting stores – Footprintbamboo.com. This vendor is local to PA and NJ.

No training checklist for this week. I am taking a few days rest and will be back up and running/swimming to prep for the Marine Corp Half Marathon on May 17. Til then- be good to one another!

Cheers!

P.S. did I mention that one of the top female Broad Street finishers was a 52 year old!!! Wow.

I ran for Boston from Philly

Part of something bigger …

Loving the Life I live ..running one for John

This week’s post was a challenge to title. What did you learn about yourself this weekend? That was the question posed by the good people at St. Luke’s Half Marathon via their FB page. I had a therapist ask me that once as well. At a time  when I was trying to figure out why I was not happier in life. Funny to turn around and find that question posed once more by, of all people, runners. We will file that under “things I wish I had known when I was younger.” Calling myself a runner now and spending so much time running, I do wish it had been a part of my life much earlier. Hugh and I ran together in college. I wish I had kept going. I also wish I had run as a teen or even a child. You will see how all this works into my reflections and recaps of the weekend events.  A disclaimer early on … this post will be lengthy. There will be much about running. But also some laughs. I learned quite a lot about myself this weekend. It was busy. It was full. I want to capture all of it here. It was that good.

I chose the title part of something bigger because events of this weekend confirmed something I suspected about myself. Being part of something bigger seems to matter to me. Or you could say I want what I do to matter. I want the things I think about and say and do to matter in some bigger, lasting way. When I am part of something bigger I feel like I am bigger. It makes me happy. I like being part of bigger things. I feel bigger. I feel more significant. I feel like I contribute. I feel like a part of it. No big surprise here. I think most of us can identify. The surprise is when and where it suddenly hits you. And the end result was that I learned A LOT about me. So what were these monumentally big things I did this weekend?

1. I ran 2 races
2. I ran those races with friends
3. I conquered a HUGE running/race fear
4. I said yes
5. I celebrated a life well lived

OK. So here is what I did and what I learned.

Saturday morning Hugh and I ran in the YWCA Race Against Racism 5K in Lancaster. The plan called for us to meet up with my friend who was running her first race …ever. Hugh would happily race off as Heather and I conquered the 5K. The cause and the crowd were amazing. Sometimes words fail. The morning was perfect. The sky was brightest blue. Lancaster County really is exquisite some mornings. On perfect mornings the landscape is breathtaking. Even from the highway at 65 mph. The rolling green hills dotted with barns and bicycles. The occasional hot air balloon lolling along the clouds. It was that kind of morning. We got into the city and the urban landscape was just as perfect. By 8am couples , families, young, old were walking toward Musser Park in their bright orange race T’s. The back reading The Winner will be Humanity. Wow. Count me in.

As we exited the Queen Street parking garage arrayed in orange and smiles, I was happy watching everyone walking in one unified direction. On some organic level, people love walking together as a group. A nice warm sense of camaraderie and shared purpose. Feels good. We arrived at the race start and entered one of the happiest scenes of chaos imaginable. A sea of humanity. The best part was feeling we all knew each other.  We knew our purpose: to run/walk for fun. We knew our mission: to support the YWCA’s mission to empower. We knew our common value: all are created equal. The only thing we did not know was the location of the start line! It was great. The smiling kids faces that were starting off their young little lives running side by side and surrounded by 4,580 amazing role models and love.

YWCA Race Against Racism 5K

running through the streets of Lancaster

Hugh and I on this bright sunny Lancaster 5K morning

In addition to the powerful message, I was also very much feeling the powerful role I had in coaching Heather through her first race.  I identified completely with Heather when she began her running. She had run when she was younger and had the same hopes of youth we all have returning to a sport. Everything (well almost everything) was easier when we were younger. Heather needed the extra credit gained from running the full 5K for her college level fitness class. She had been plagued by the same persistent self-doubt shared by so many new runners (including yours truly). I had met her for one practice run 2 weeks prior to the race. I knew she could do it. I needed her to know she could do it. What Heather did not know was how anxious I felt coaching her. I am not a coach. I am just me. Any doubt I had in my ability to coach her was offset by my absolute faith in Heather’s ability to run that race. It was a beautiful run. Practically perfect in every way. We made it through the mosh-pit insanity of the race start. This was a hefty little race with 4,580 runners. I suspect the field of orange ignited something, because these people were on fire. I reassured Heather, as she worried about being last, that all those fine people shot out of the cannon at the start would be those she passed down the road.

• The course was a sweet little 3.1 miles. I was thrilled by the hills. Heather likes hills too. I kept a running motivational dialogue and kept track of her heart rate using a quick little 1-5 scale. I had told her pre-race that we would only stop running if she hit a 5. We never moved beyond a 3-4. As we rounded the final curve toward the end, there was Hugh to cheer us on. He shouted “3 blocks to go.” I immediately sensed that Heather wanted to move. I told her that at the last block she could push it. As we reached the final block I had kept my eye on a gal who had paced with us through the race. I told Heather that I wanted her to beat this gal. As we entered the last block I told Heather to go and did she ever! Heather sprinted and sailed through the finish. It was wonderful. We had both done it. She had run the entire race and I had coached my first race beginning to end. I was so proud of us. It is one thing to achieve your own goal. It is a whole new level to help someone else achieve hers. At the 5K in Lancaster I learned: 

• I do not know yet what I am capable of. I possess skills I cannot yet name. I can’t wait to know what they may be.
• There is power and love in numbers. I possess the ability to send powerful, peaceful messages in the most amazing ways. By coming together and running or walking 3.1 miles through the streets of a sometimes divided city, I do not know how many lives I touched through that one act. I want to always make that effort. Many small efforts together equal one big one.
• I love the YWCA Race Against Racism 5K and will be back in 2014.

Heather and I three blocks from the 5K finish (photo bu Hugh)

From one life celebration to another. Hugh and I left Lancaster and drove through the sunshine to West Chester. We were going to say goodbye. Hugh’s older brother John Darlington had passed away. Hugh’s sister had captured it when she said that the cancer was the one spoiler in life that John could not beat. Hugh and I were gathering with friends and family to say goodbye. The day remained exquisite. The sunshine was bright. It was the perfect sailing day. John was a sailor who loved the sea. Tears with smiles. And then tears alone. What I learned. Life is never perfect. Life isn’t intended to be fair. Man wants life to be fair and round and rosy. Life isn’t like that. It is rough and hardly fair. But John had it right. Make life about what and whom you love. Then you will love life. A happy life is not a promise but love is there always. You just need to look for it. It was a beautiful celebration for John.

From West Chester we set out for Bethlehem. We would be staying overnight with Hugh’s brother Pete and his wife Eileen. Hugh, Eileen and I would be running in the St. Luke’s Half Marathon on Sunday morning. I was nervous. I was terrified. This was the race I had been dreading for months. I had run my very first race ever six months prior in October  2012 at the Hershey Half Marathon. Now  here I was planning to run the race that Hugh hailed as “the best … you’ll see Weeze … it will be great.” It was all sounding very much like his we can all climb Mt. Fuji as a family in only a few hours pep talk. Our family summit of Fuji had ended in no one speaking to one another, Mary and I abandoning the group at the eight station for the first food and futons we could find and Max and Lauren both succumbing a few hours later in a  shared sunburned haze of dehydration and  exhaustion that Max still fails to recall years later. At John’s memorial it was lovingly acclaimed that the Darlington men can, at times, all express the same I-am-absolutely-right-about-this-and-let-me-help-you-understand-why personality trait at any given situation. Be it climbing a mountain, running a race or making an omelet. Hugh’s ability in this is as loving and infectious as was John’s. So I believed.

But why was I so fearful? Here are the points to help validate my anxiety.

• I am a slow runner. I wish I were not so slow, but the fact is I am. Facts are facts. In a long road race of 13.1 miles I manage a 15 to 15:15 minute per mile pace. Based on the 13.1 races I have completed, I need atleast 3 hrs. 20 -30 mins to finish. 
• Half marathon and marathon races will post a time limit for their races. From what I can tell, the larger the race the better the chance for a slightly longer time limit. Three hours is the average cut-off time limit for the majority of half marathons. Larger races allow 3.5 – 4.0 hours to complete the race. Thus, the larger races (10,000 runners or over) present a better opportunity for slower runners/walkers to complete the race.
• Smaller races with a more competitive field size (number of runners) of 4,000-5,000 usually have a much tighter time limit of 3 hours or less. These races really are not inviting for slower runners.

I accept all of these facts. I am completely in favor of smaller competitive races setting time limits. If a race is set for a field of 4,000 runners I want those who can manage these races to enter. Hugh completes his 13.1 in an average time of 2:26 or less. In all the running and the races, I had yet to manage anything that would get me close to a 3 hour limit. The scariest part was knowing in the fine print that “Our course opens to traffic after 3 hours. In order to complete the half marathon in this time you must maintain a 13:44 minute pace. If you are still out on the course after 3 hours please use caution and common sense as you complete the course. We break down our finish line after 3 hours and may not be there when you arrive. Also, there will be no finish food or refreshments available after 3 hours. [from St.Luke's website FAQ]“

Now I ask you … you want to run 13.1 miles , out on the road by yourself for over 3 hours knowing that the finish line may not be there when you arrive? Oh yeah, and by the way, there will be no food or refreshments there either. For someone like myself dealing with left over issues of abandonment and feeling invisible this was not the race I should be running. The clock was ticking.

Anyway, I was nervous but I knew I was in shape. I had rested. I had been working out. I had dropped some weight. And what really helped was the cheering. We arrived at Pete and Eileen’s to the best cheering squad I could have hoped for. A little back story here. Eileen and Pete have three of the most amazing kids. Two of those kids are now in college and are exceptional runners. More like exceptional x 1,000. These kids sail. They also work hard for it. Eileen herself is a magnificent runner. Eileen ran her second marathon last April 2012. It was the Boston Marathon in 90 degree heat. Eileen sails. So here we are in what to me are hallowed grounds. Imagine Britney Spears joining in a jam session with the Beatles … only Britney Spears is better than me! You get my drift. Well, Pete and Eileen made me feel like I was part of the pack baby. Maybe not running with the pack, but part of the pack none-the-less. I asked Eileen, “so what will you run this in?” Eileen, who is  perhaps the only person I have ever met who is simultaneously super competitive and  humble, quietly replied …
“1:45.”  What was I doing here? anyway… the great great news is I felt nothing but complete love and admiration from these people.   At that point I felt like I could have raced the moon and won.

Hugh and I hit the sack and I immediately began my ritual round of  …
Louise: “Hugh?”
Hugh: “yes”
Louise: “do you think I’ll do OK?”
Hugh: “you are going to do splendidly.”
Louise: “are you sure?”
Hugh: “yes”
Louise: “but what if I can’t finish?”
Hugh: “you’ll finish beautifully. I’ll be there to cheer you.”
Louise: “promise?”
Hugh: [snoring]

The morning broke to a world full of sunshine. I got up and showered and was amazingly calm. While I usually like to get to the race start a few hours in advance, we planned to arrive just in the nick of time for the 8:00 gun. No port-o-let stop for this girl. We ate and tried one of Eileen’s amazing muffins (soon to be Good Energy.com) and hit the road. We had on our Boston tribute T shirts and Eileen regaled us with the story of her Boston 2012 marathon. It had been her second marathon (she qualified at the Philly marathon in 2011). It was wonderful hearing her story. I love running stories and runners can be wonderful story tellers. Eileen told of changing her mindset once the temp soared close to 90. Had she opted for the race deferral like the other 4,000 who had – she would have raced in the Boston 2013 with Pete and David waiting at the finish line we all saw on the evening news. She talked about the decisions we all make and she had decided to run for the fun of it, not defer and enjoy the race. She talked about the people who turned on their hoses in their front yards to spray and cool all the runners who sailed past them. She talked about running zigzag from one child to the next sending out high fives. It was wonderful. Eileen was angry and hurt for Boston. Every runner felt attacked that day because there is nothing hurtful about a runner. So it was good to head out for a run this morning in Allentown. We had our Boston T’s and little black ribbons tied in honor.

Eileen and I arriving at the St. Luke’s half

Eileen shot off to hit the port-o-lets while Hugh and I fussed with changing shirts and cell phones. Off we finally went in search of a race. The vibe from the Lancaster race was there. Happy faces all streaming into town with our shared purpose. I still was not nervous. Hugh had to get to the potty but I was OK. So we shared a kiss and off I went in search of a suitable start. We stood for perhaps 5 minutes and then close to start time began to walk. We must have walked – we happy crew of 4,000 runners – 1-2 blocks. This was great. I loved this walk. It walked out all the nerves and butterflies. We stopped at the race start at the top of a hill. I looked back to see Hugh having found me in the crowd. We got to begin together and then off he ran. I slapped the start banner on the way out into the field of runners and immediately stayed to the right. It did not take long for me to learn that I would indeed be one of the last runners. The field slipped quickly off into the distance and I was left in the back with perhaps 50 or so or my fellow hearties in for the long haul. The course was fine and the bands Hugh bragged about were indeed good. The first 3 miles were fine. Then we entered a the wasteland that became a highway. A very long long highway. The slow runner is a solitary runner. Long open spaces can quickly magnify the feeling of being all alone even though you know you are technically part of a race of 4,000 people. But are you really? Everyone says you run the same race even though there is no one around you. Everyone says you run the same race even though the water stands and bands are closing up as you pass by. What happened and was energizing in this race was that by mile 3 the course had looped around (out at mile 4.5) and the racers were actually running back toward we few and proud. So as I was heading out onto the highway I was greeted by 3,950 of the happiest fastest runners in town! It was great. I felt like I was in the race. OK, so I was going in the other direction but it still felt great.  I could see all their faces and hear all the shouts … “BOSTON” … acknowledging my bright yellow tribute T. There were a lot of Boston shouts. A lot of “GO TEAM” for the 2 older women who paced me for most of the first 6 miles. These gals were doing their first half marathon in support of the Leukemia foundation and every one of  their fellow teammates who flew past shouted “GO TEAM” to them. It makes me tear up now. We were part of the race. So on we flew. I saw Eileen and I saw Hugh. I have raced with Hugh but never actually raced WITH Hugh before Sunday. That was wonderful.

So out into the wasteland. When you spend 3 hours with the same group of runners you really get to know them. We had a few young couples. The men pacing their gals with love and conviction. Several groups of older women and then there was Crazy Joe. Crazy Joe paced me for about 1 mile. I came to find out that he is 80. He was a sweet man and would not give up. I left him behind somewhere around mile 5. On I went. I felt really great and was enjoying my ChiRunning moments of just enjoying the run. Then came the split at 6.5 miles and I was at 1:32:30. I was thrilled. I felt great and my time was good. Maybe I could do this thing in 3 hours. I had not thought about time nor looked at my watch until the split. I went up the slight incline and there with a big bright smile was Pete and his camera. He jumped over to my side of the bridge patted my back and said “Howya doin Weeze?” I think I said I was fine. He offered to run some with me but I told him I had to stay focused. He smiled and off he ran. I had crossed the halfway mark, was feeling great and hopeful and ran into the park.

The park became gravel trail. Winding through trees and hugging an exquisite stream of clear water that I wanted to jump into and drink all day. Yes, I was getting tired and thirsty. I decided at the next water stop to get Gatorade and some water. I had mostly drained my handpack. I also really do not like fueling on runs. I know perhaps I should but it has never really helped much in the past. Gatorade does help. I continued up and down the blessed hills. I like running hills. In ChiRunning you think about drawing energy from the hills not working against them. Sounds reasonable to me. So I lean into the hills and somehow it makes things just that more interesting and fluid. So up and down I went.  Between mile 7-8 there were 2 gals who seemed locked in battle. Neither giving ground to the other. I came up the rise and attempted to pass the one in the coral shorts. She moved to block me. I moved to the right and she moved to block me. For moment I thought I was hallucinating. After 7 miles you mean I have to play chicken to get past this gal? I had never had this happen before. I noticed her double knee braces and decided to get her on the downgrade. Sure enough when we hit the down slope she faltered and I passed. I continued through the trail and up to the covered bridge, and around the bend to begin the return trip back to the highway and home. At mile 10 I began to tire and longed for  the water break I knew was ahead. I stopped and had my bottle refilled by the sweetest little girl volunteer. She was special needs child and was dutiful beyond words in filling first from one cup, then a second until my little hand held water pack overflowed. I got 2 cups of Gatorade and thanked them all so much. By the time I got back to the trail, the coral shorts and her pal had passed me once again. I continued on. At this point I decided to check my watch and the time was 2:27. I calculated I had about 2.5 miles left. I could do this thing! I approached the top of the crest that would lead us out to the highway.

The kind policeman said “We’re loading you on the bus now.”
I stopped. “You want ME … on the bus?”
“Yes. On the bus. We have the open the highway. We have to cut you off.”
“I understand.”

I got on the bus. I was on the bus with all the people who I had been running with and passing for the last 2.5 hours. It was clear that the officials were keeping to their word. The highway would open at 3pm. There would be no runners on the highway when it opened. It was a surreal moment. We were all very quiet. I think we were all stunned. I think we all had the same thought. We knew there was a limit. We did not make it. I had a DNF (Did Not Finish) at the Hershey Half. I felt miserable after that. But now, I did not feel miserable. I really had tried my best. I was proud of what I did. But I wanted desperately to finish. So I sat quietly on the bus unsure of my race fate.

“I am allowed to drop you off near mile 12. So you can all finish the race” said our driver.
A wave of relief passed through the bus. One of the gals checked her garmin which read we were at mile 10.68 The young girl seated in front of me started to talk. Her knee was killing her. She had a heavy knee brace on it. I asked her if it was painful and she said yes but she had to finish. She was getting an MRI tomorrow and results from a biopsy. She thought about cancer. She had to finish this race. Then I heard the other voices talking telling their stories
“… I just finished chemo … it is my first race”
“… I’m running for my mom who couldn’t run it”
“… I have cancer. I gotta finish this race”

I sat there absorbing all the stories and the courage. This was the race that no one sees. All the bands are gone. All the cheering zones are gone. These are the people who ran knowing that the finish line may or may not be here when you finish. These are the people who still chose to get out there in front of everyone and run. These are the people who put themselves out there to run a race all by themselves, all alone. There was so much courage on that bus that I was happy to be a part of it. I was happy I said yes to that bus. I did not pause for a second. The officer said ” we’re loading you on the bus” and I said yes.

So there we are. On the bus. Waiting. Minutes were ticking by. I never looked at my watch. Finally the driver started out. She was THE slowest bus driver ever. We came down to the highway and turned left to head back toward town. I was glancing out the window in time to catch Hugh standing by the side of the road in his space blanket and medal. I quickly waved as frantically as I could and he caught my action in time to smile and give a “WTF” wave as our prison bus drove us away. It felt like a scene from Cool Hand Luke when they drive the chain gang out to work on tarring the highway. I could hear it now -

“Louise … tell me again why you were on a bus in a race??”
“I was arrested for being too slow. Didn’t you hear me the first time. They arrest slow runners now in America!”

Anyway, off goes the bus and we have all become one. The girl with the knee brace knows she will finish as does everyone on this bus. We care not about time anymore. You can do nothing more to us. Now it is all about grit and determination. Just as we’re feeling good, off in the distance coral shorts and her buddy come into view on the shoulder of the highway flanked by their very own patrol car. One of the gals in the bus announces, “Oh yes, that’s _____. She refused to get on the bus.”
At this point the bus has slowed to a crawl to match that of the patrol car flanking these two. The driver informs us we must stay behind the patrol car all the way to the drop off. In an instant the bus is in riot mode. We all agree that if this one person refused to do as requested that we should not be forced to suffer BEHIND her. Think about it. You arrested us for being slow and now you want us to stay BEHIND these two! We assured the driver we would back her completely in any court of law and peer pressured her into passing the patrol car. I think the officer in the patrol car even applauded! We arrived just before mile 12, disembarked and continued on our way.

I reminded myself I was still in a race … I think. I stopped and looked behind me trying to decide if I should go back to find Hugh. I decided to keep moving forward. There was one lone gal still singing polka tunes for the last remnants of the once mighty St. Luke’s Half Marathon. I was feeling great though. I had just faced my second most absolute worst race fear. I was kicked off the course. I was loaded on a bus and hauled away. And here I was feeling great. Because I knew I had tried my best. I had run better than I had ever run. I gave it my all. I had felt a part of something bigger. Every single runner wants to be able to run like the wind. To run faster than anyone. Just like the  runner in Chariots of Fire. When he finally sees the Scotsman run and knows he’ll never run that fast. When Hugh and I were driving home from Allentown and I was telling my story I could see  he understood. I had been out there for hours on a road all by myself. I had run past all those magnificent runners wanting to be just like them and to run with them. It really felt like I was running with them. What I did learn though was that I had faced one of my worst fears and by doing that had gained just as powerful a running gift. I was reminded that some of the most courageous run at the back.

So I continued toward the stadium. I saw Hugh standing on the side waiting. He had taken a short cut and got there in time to cheer. I motioned for him to join me. I was walking at this point. Who cared about time.  I felt like a winner. The entire bus affair had proven too  funny beyond words. Then there was Pete and Eileen and David. We laughed and I explained what had happened and commented on the trophy Eileen held. She had placed third in her age group and run the race in 1:46. It was then that someone somehow reminded me that I had yet to finish the race. I think I said “Oh yeah…” and off I ran up the incline and into the stadium. I ran around the track and even gave it a little sprint for good measure. The clock was 3:12. I had finished in all that commotion and craziness in 3:12. So all told, were I to add in 15 minutes for the mile I was bused I would estimate my finish time at 3:27 – which is just about right. Somehow it just does not matter. I felt great finishing. No cramps at the end. I was able to goof around and talk and relax. Had anyone said to me that I would need to be reminded to stop goofing off and finish the St. Luke’s half marathon, I would have called them crazy. It was an amazing race and an amazing day. Life is not always round and rosy but if we pay attention we can really learn alot.

I wish you a wonderful week. It promises to be another crazy week. I will not be running as Hugh and I are doing the Broad Street 10 miler with 46,000 of our closest friends this coming Sunday. The Broad Street Race too had scared me when I first considered it but I am not scared now. Just say yes and let the rest follow.
So this week will be some swimming. The weight loss is happening as well and I am down a total of 29 lbs. since November. Slow and steady. Make it a great week – Cheers!

Hugh and I at the St. Luke’s start

My tribute end of the race pose. I felt great but I have to do this now after each race

Training Checklist:

tapering for Broad Street Run.
Swimming 1-2x times this week

Celebration and memory …

Tomorrow I run a 5K with a friend and against racism. I dropped off my pal’s race packet at the park where she was watching her son’s ball game. We’re both excited about tomorrow – her first race and mine as a “coach”. The 5K YWCA Race Against Racism is in it’s 15 th year in Lancaster – one of (if not THE) longest continuous Y race of its kind on the books. We both agreed it will be great seeing all the people as one community. After the race Hugh and I will head to Chester County for a different kind of celebration but one of community and family all the same. We will say a communal, familial farewell to his older brother John. Life really is about celebration and remembering. The past week we heard that word a lot. Remember. Remembrance. I am happy for the chance tomorrow to celebrate the richness of all our lives together and of one man’s life in particular. Have a great weekend. Sunday I’ll send out the race reports and update .. Til then, keep coaching a friend, and celebrating! Cheers-

What a week … Racism, TWLOHA and the Lehigh Valley

On the heels of the national nightmare of last week, this week will be a week of hope, love, inspiration and digging deep. It has been busy day … I did an 8 mile run (my fastest ever at 1:57:36) , got home at 4:30 and thanks to Hugh was able to eat some dinner before having to turn around and report to work for my 6-9pm reference shift. So this quick little blog posting will be filled with visuals. On Saturday we will run the 5K Race Against Racism in Lancaster. An awesome cause and I know the crowd will be incredible. From there we will travel to celebrate and be with family to remember Hugh’s amazing brother John who passed away about 2 weeks ago from the ravages of mesothelioma. Sunday, I will run the St. Luke’s Half Marathon. I am really nervous about this race and I have decided the best way to run it will be for John with all my heart and soul. I will dig deep and when it gets hard, I’ll think of John – every foot step.

Lastly, I wanted to share that on Thursday evening this week the campus (Elizabethtown College) will host the founder of To Write Love on Her Arms, Jamie Tworkowski. It is free and open to the public. I will be there. It is all about showing, sharing and being love for others. This week will be a week of showing, sharing and being love for others. I can’t wait. Have a great week one and all. Pratice showing, sharing and being love! Cheers

To Write Love on Her Arms

Jamie Tworkowski at Elizabethtown College – details!

 

Boston

Runners United to Remember Boston

Fear makes you want to run away. Yesterday was a horrible day. It was and is a horrible tragedy. On so many levels. I called Hugh while leaving work. Asked had he heard about Boston. “No, what happened.” He was silent. I had planned to go to the gym after work, but met him at home. We watched perhaps 5 minutes of the news report together and then he got up and said “I gotta run.” Put on my grey long sleeved beloved Philly Half Marathon. No bright colors for this run. And we ran. We just ran. It was a grey cloudy chilly day. I passed several runners. Each gave me a slight smile and a wave. There was an unspoken saddness though – you could feel it like the chill in the air but a warmth of knowing too. Like it’s gonna be OK.

It will be OK. I wore my Philly race shirt to work today. Had co-workers ask me about Boston. People shared anxieties. “Did you have friends in Boston?” “Are they OK?” Yes, it was all senseless. It was horrific, it was tragic. As I plugged into Facebook this morning, the waves were rolling through grief and saddness, loss, sharing, stength. As with the many tragedies, we rise the day after and find something strong to make of it all. The heroes that ran toward the bombs and carnage. The unending help and aid. The thing that struck me though was that those most injured were those who were cheering. In every race, it is the people who cheer that mean so much to me. Hugh always cheers me on at the end. He finishes first and then comes back to cheer me at the end. The was a story of 2 brothers there to cheer their firefighter friend who was running. They each lost a leg to the bomb. People who stand on the side and cheer are amazing unsung hereos. They stand for hours in the cold and rain, wind, blazing sun to catch a glimpse. But they just don’t cheer one person, you hear their voices cheering everyone. Complete joy and unconditional love. No one boos. I have never heard a boo at any race finish. They call out your name and give you high fives. And they do not get the medal at the end. They do not get the bragging rights or the T shirts. They give their love and support and make you feel like a champion. Now they need our cheers. I wish I could make a T shirt for the crowds that cheer. I would give them all medals.

I read a post this morning from a gal who is about to run a race in Philly 3 weeks from today. I’ll also be running that race. Imagine the people on the side in the crowd who will show up to cheer on the runners. Imagine their bravery and spirit. Do not run from fear. Run down fear. Run it to the ground and stamp all over it and then cheer that it did not drown out the cheers.

If you would like to , there is a Runners United to Remember page on Facebook  – it is not a fundraiser. It is simply something you can do to show support. Be someone who cheers. You can walk, you can run – any distance, any time. Print off the picture  I posted and pin it to your shirt. Get out and run down fear. Walk down fear – take a picture and post it to the Runners United to Remember. The 2013 Boston Marathon was to honor the 26 children and teachers killed at Sandy Hook School in Newtown, Conn. The fear and violence has to stop. Small steps can mean a lot to many. Be good to one another and cheer someone on today in honor of Boston.

It’s official

NYC swim here I come

I am in the Liberty Island swim. I qualified and am approved to be one of 400 swimmers who will swim around the Statue of Liberty on August 16, 2013. I am thrilled, excited, terrified … WOW. It has been an incredibly busy week. This will be a quickie blog update. The running has been great. Had a great training session with a pal on Thursday in prep for the April 27 – 5K. Hugh and I both agree that we have to begin logging in the miles for our upcoming half marathons in April and May. We spent the day in Washington DC yesterday amid all the people and cherry blossoms. We travel annually to the Sakura Matsuri street festival run by the Japanese American Society of DC. We love Japan. So many changes in one year. This time last year we were planning our sons graduation and possibly move the Japan. Now it is reality! All good. We walked non stop all day yesterday. From the streets festival to the Tidal Basin and the Jefferson Memorial  then up to the Library of Congress and Good Eats/ We the Pizza for dinner outside with sunshine and happy people. Then back down to the Smithsonian Castle in time to meet the bus. DC has such an amazing young vibe in the Capital/Mall district.

So now it is back to real. Running today and blimey if it don’t seem like running again tomorrow! I am enjoying more and more reading about ChiRunning. It really seems to connect with my goals and what I want to achieve from running. I want to be doing this as long as I can. We will also move the bikes up from the basement and get them ready for the next 3 seasons of biking. Life is good. Have a great week. Sorry for the quick posts – the training this week is running, pilates (hopefully back to Jillian) and swimming atleast 1-2x weekly.

Cheers!

so what does a race start look like?