New York, New York!

As our plane flew over New York City in its descent to La Guardia airport just before dusk Friday evening, I took in the jungle of skyscrapers and was reminded how much I love that city. This was my eighth visit to NYC but would be my first time there to run the New York City Marathon. I was excited and bit nervous.

Looking out from lower Manhattan

New WTC tower and pools behind me

The previous week I had run the Marine Corps Marathon in D.C.  The number of running participants there made it the largest crowd with which I have ever had to run. Just getting our bibs and getting into the expo on the previous Saturday morning had been a two-plus hour nightmare. So here I was arriving late again for packet pick-up at a race considerably larger than MCM. The prospect of dealing with the even larger crowds did not thrill me but you do what you must do.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. Much like the Boston Athletic Association, the New York Road Runners have this marathon thing down to a fine science. The lines the next morning to get into the expo for packets and shopping were long but moved very quickly. (I was also lucky to have arrived at just the right time, i.e. just before a new group of free bus shuttles from participating hotels and pickup areas dumped another group of runners.) I also learned from MCM to NOT bring a purse or bag of any kind thus allowing me to by-pass the slow tedious security check of bags.

Once in the expo, the packet pick-up windows were ready and many. I was able to walk right up to my

race number window without waiting. I was set! After picking up the tee shirt and the clear bag (to be also used for your baggage check, if you chose that option), I was ready for some retail therapy.

The expo was BIG! It did not seem as big as the Boston Marathon’s expo but perhaps it was because the entire expo was housed in one gigantic area rather than 2-3 large areas. Honestly, I didn’t see all of the Boston expo and I didn’t see this entire one either. After awhile, I simply get sensory overload and, frankly, there are rarely any terrific prices on anything. The newest and latest in garments, shoes and gadgetry is definitely fun to check out but I was running a marathon the next morning so did not want to spend my time on already tired legs. A jacket, shirt, bag and the spanking new Garmin Forerunner 220 were purchased and I was ready to roll out of there, much to my dear husband’s relief as he asked with each purchase “Do you REALLY need that?” Well, duh!

After the expo, we met up with some friends for a beer and strategizing on how or whether we could run together the next day. The logistics of finding one another in the sea of people given that we were arriving at the start at different times, and were in different color corrals, proved to be too much. We never did meet up until after the race.

There were lots of pre-race activities in which the race entrants could participate. Due to my late arrival and the fact that I was staying across the street from the 9/11 Memorial entrance in the financial district, I chose to remain near our hotel. I wish I had gone to some of the events (like the Central Park kickoff) but our timing was not right.  Besides, I know that area fairly well as my son used to go to school a few blocks from Central Park. I reminded myself that rest was what I probably needed more. I even passed up an early morning shakeout run. I was still recovering from the MCM the previous Sunday, and had done a ton of walking around Friday night. I’m not sure it was a good call since I only ran once during the week but I think it wouldn’t have made much difference.

Our hotel faced the WTC and overlooked the reflecting pools.

Reflecting pool and the city

An early pre-race dinner at a bar and grill next to the hotel and early to bed. Okay, sort of. I never sleep well the night before a race and the fact that we had to set our clocks back an hour for the change to standard time really bugged me. I kept wondering if I would wake too early or too late. It was a restless night, needless to say.

Hoping the following morning would be brighter and warmer.

There are three ways to get to the Runners Village on Staten Island. Ferry, bus or find your own transportation. I had read that the ferry is the most efficient for many runners. It certainly was for me since the ferry terminal was only a fifteen-minute walk from the hotel. I was able to catch the 6:15am ferry (rather than the 6:30am I initially had chosen on the NYRR website). I wanted to be certain I arrived EARLY! (Didn’t want to repeat my MCM mistake where I made a grievous error in judgment and arrived only one hour early at the start. The closest my daughter and I could get to the start line was near the five hour pace group. Enough said.)

The trip to Staten Island is only a few minutes (20-25 minutes maybe?). Being one of the first ones onboard, I was able to find a seat near the exit so I would also be one of the first ones to disembark. The time flew by as I visited with a local runner who has run NYCM multiple times. Before I knew it, we were there. As you leave the ferry terminal you will find LOTS of porta-potties at the ready. Thank God. My nervous bladder would not have lasted the short (perhaps another twenty minutes) bus ride from the terminal to the Runners Village. The loading of buses was organized and swift. The ride was also scenic for a while as you could see the Manhattan skyline and the entire sky lightening up at least part of the way, in spite of the gray overcast.

As you enter the Runners Village there is a gauntlet of security through which you must pass. At the time I was there, the runners were clearing security at a fast clip. The local woman with whom I visited on the ferry had said security at NYCM has always been tight and she hadn’t really noticed much change from past years except that you can no longer run with a hydration backpack. There were policemen everywhere and I felt very comfortable knowing that everyone was being watched.

Unlike like MCM, (where you are not “seeded” at the start, so it’s a free-for-all jockeying into position) NYCM had four wave starts. Each wave consists color groups (Blue, Orange and Green); then there are corrals within the color groups based on the first two numbers on your bib.  At the NYCM Runners Village, you are directed to your color group. Once there you will find what appears to be thousands (okay, hundreds) of porta-potties, food, water, coffee, Gatorade, and a jumbotron-like screen showing written instructions in every conceivable language as well as a voice repeating all these instructions in all those languages from loud speakers. Everywhere around you there are conversations in foreign languages and I felt like I had been plunked into the middle of an Olympics game setting. It was surreal.

It was also COLD! You are warned repeatedly about the need to prepare for standing 2-3 hours in the cold before the start. Wave 2 (my wave) was not scheduled to start until 10:05am. I was settled into the village by 7:30am.  Many brought towels and old space blankets to sit upon but old sleeping bags had been banned this year. It was MUCH colder on Staten Island than Wall Street. I was grateful I wore my throwaway warmup pants, jacket and gloves. However, I wore a brimmed running hat and my ears were getting cold. At the last minute, as I dashed from my hotel room, I grabbed a throwaway ill-fitting running tank top thinking I might want it to keep my core warm at the village. This would prove a smart move. I wrapped it around my neck to help protect me from the icy wind that was much more noticeable and bothersome at the village than at Battery Park on Manhattan. Temperature-wise it was probably not that bad, low 40s perhaps. It was the breeze that made it miserable. Throughout the day there would be the much appreciated occasional sunbreak but the temps never rose about 50 degrees and there was a fairly steady breeze the entire time.

Dunkin’ Donuts had a big presence in the village. They were passing out free fleece beanies. It was a godsend! I put one on over my hat and immediately felt better. They also had pretty decent coffee being made fast and furiously. I managed to down a couple cups. Another godsend! Eventually I realized that I might be in trouble. I had planned to run in a running skirt, a singlet, arm-warmers and gloves. I have run all my marathons in this minus the arm-warmers/gloves in the warmer temps. But my core felt like it might need some help, so I slipped on my ill-fitting fugly tank over my singlet and pinned my bib to that, hoping it would be enough.

Before I decided to slip on my tank for core warmth.

I struggle fueling on race mornings, and the longer I must wait between waking up and racing makes it that much harder. Thankfully, I did choke down part of an apple turnover and banana at the hotel. At the village, I forced myself to graze. Ate most of a huge bagel, half an energy bar and drank some Gatorade and water. A few more trips to the potty, (there was never a long wait at any of them) and I was ready when they called my wave.

The race volunteers were very good in my section at checking to make sure you were where your bib said you should be.  In the wave waiting area, they had MORE potties at the ready! Those lines were longer and slower but I was one of the first in the area so I was in and out of there quickly. When the wave was instructed to move into the starting area on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, I had worked my way up near the front of the Orange group. Orange and Blue started next to one another on top of the bridge but are separated by a jersey barrier of sorts. The 3:45 pace group was where I was positioned. I had peeled off the sweatpants in the waiting area, and tossed the jacket right before the national anthem. The crush of bodies kept me warm…but not for long.

There is much to love about running through the gritty city of New York. The people, who often get a bad rap for being brash, rude or aloof, come out en masse to cheer on friends, family and strangers. Except on the sections (such as bridges) where spectators cannot gain access, the crowds are constant. It is thrilling!

My favorite part of NYCM might have been the very start. I ran along the left side of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, so I was able to see lower Manhattan in the distance and the NYPD helicopters that hovered on either side of the bridge. The helicopter’s occupants waved to the runners and the coloring of the morning (grayish but with pockets of sunshine) made the suspended aircraft against the backdrop of the distant Manhattan skyline look unreal. It was exhilarating to say the least! That exhilaration got the better of me.

I started out too fast. I know better, my PRs have always been when I listened to my head and reined it in, but since I knew getting a PR at NY after running a marathon the week before was highly unlikely, I decided to see how far I could take this feeling. (Besides, I was already cold and hoped a faster pace would heat me up. It did for a while.)

For eight miles the blue and orange sections run side by side but they are physically separated. I think this is because their routes vary slightly which affects the mileage markers until it evens out at mile 8. When they merged I saw I was right behind the 3:30 pacer.  Oh-oh. :( This was not good. I hung close to that pace group for maybe a mile and a half before dropping back. Still, when I hit the 13.1 mark, I knew I had messed up. My legs were beginning to talk trash to me. The course is not that hilly, but the inclines that do occur are fairly deep into the route. I would pay in the latter half for it my impatience.

As you run through Brooklyn up into Queens you realize that NYC is a pretty dirty city. Interesting but dirty. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I think I’ve taken for granted the beauty that surrounds us. The beauty of the Big Apple is that it continues to draw the masses in spite of its concrete jungle and you can almost feel it pulsating with activity.  The Brooklyn and Queens crowds were very supportive of the runners.

By mile 14 I had trouble, with a capital T. My legs and feet started to cramp. I had taken salt tabs in the morning and a couple in the starting area. I was also drinking Gatorade but the cramps threatened to become more severe. The cramping seemed worse on the slight downhills than the slight uphills.  As you cross the Queensboro Bridge, it becomes much quieter. Just the sounds of your breathing and footsteps along with your fellow runners. About halfway across I wondered if it would ever start to go downward again. This is about the time a young Italian man asked me in broken English if I was using my gloves. (Although my legs and my chest were freezing, I was carrying my gloves at that point but was considering whether to put them back on. Thank goodness I wore my armwarmers.) I felt badly that I told him yes, I was using them. He obviously was suffering from the cold, having zero body fat, no hat, and just shorts and a singlet. He looked at me like he didn’t believe me, but it did appear that he was able to retrieve some discarded arm-warmers.

As you approach the end of the Queensboro Bridge (mile 16) you can hear the roar of a HUGE crowd. This is similar in sound to the Wellesley mile at Boston.  It is thrilling, and for a millisecond I might have forgotten that my legs were slowing down in a big way.  But I had to recoup as I realized that I had ten more miles and going out as fast as I did had been a BAD decision.  My goal was now to slow way down and just keep moving.  I typically walk through most of my water stops but I tried to jog through them since slowing too much caused my calves and hamstrings to cramp in a charley horse sort of way. Not good.

Heading down Fifth Avenue for the final 4.5 miles was fun in light of the crazy encouragement people were giving total strangers. I hated to disappoint some of the people but when I needed to walk, I walked and to hell with leg cramps. No amount of “you’re almost there” rah-rah was going to change my mind.

Turning into Columbus Circle and into Central Park

Although it is a crowded race, I really didn’t have too many problems running around crowds like I did at MCM, except during the final four miles. I may have been running into those who had over optimistically predicted a much faster time and started in Wave 1 or in the Wave 2, Blue start. I passed a lot more runners than I would’ve have expected given my gimpy legs. It seemed like I had to run around quite a few people to prevent collisions in those final miles.

My gloves and armwarmers were tucked in my waistband the last couple miles 

but I had second thoughts about taking them off.

The one thing I noticed when you enter the park for the final fraction of a mile was a big banner. From a distance, you think you are approaching the finish. You’re not. That’s the 26 mile banner! Crap, I had several more meters to run?! Wha…?  I didn’t finish with my usual kick. My cramps would not allow that. But I finished.

The exit was slow and tedious. They had a photo area first, then the foil blanket distribution, then a bag of food containing Gatorade and water, then the crowds separated to the checked baggage group and those who did not check a bag. I had chosen no bag check thinking it would be quicker. It was not. It took forever to do the death crawl out to the area where the “no baggage check” people received a special waterproof fleece-lined hooded poncho if you were wearing the special bracelet given to you at bib pick-up.

See how far the sea of orange goes up the street? Crazy!

Between the foil blanket and the poncho, I was finally gaining some warmth back into my body. My throwaway tank top on top of my singlet had captured all my sweat and the cold winds would push that and my wet-soaked singlet against my skin. I felt mildly hypothermic and couldn’t wait to get into a piping hot shower.  It took at least thirty minutes to get out to my husband in the friends and family area. Thankfully a subway station was only a couple blocks away. The subway was quicker and more convenient than hailing a cab. The continued walking helped with the severe cramps, which I continued to experience all through the death walk out of the finishers area. ;)

My time wasn’t great (3:49:14) but I placed 32^nd in my AG, which is higher than I did at Boston with more than double the number of finishers in my age group at NYCM. And, like Boston, the winner of my AG was Joan Samuelson (1984 Gold medalist in the first Olympic Women's Marathon). Her time at NYCM was also a little slower than her 2013 Boston time, so maybe it’s not my imagination that this course feels a bit tougher.

I’m registered to run Boston in 2014 but now I really want to run NYCM 2014, too!  I have time qualified for it again, so I am already trying to figure out a way to finance it. In retrospect, I should been more prepared for the cold.  Hopefully I will be better prepared for the elements next time.  The couple days before the marathon had been downright balmy. Temps marathon day stayed in the forties most of the day with a little wind which made it feel a bit colder. I finished NYCM feeling more beat up than at last week’s marathon but it was a sheer thrill to have been able to run it! 

If you ever get a chance to run NYCM, do it!! I don’t think you’ll regret it. My only true regret is not planning a week’s stay for after the race. Maybe next time…

P.S. Wear your medal around town and you’ll get free beer and champagne! ;)

Fall is MARATHON season!

Fall is typically viewed as marathon season by most avid runners, but it seems like I've been running and racing marathons all through the summer. There was the Vancouver USA Marathon and my trifecta marathons put together by a fellow Marathon Maniac, Steve Walters. Steve was coordinating the Quadzilla (four marathons in four days) over the Fourth of July weekend, however, anyone was welcome to run whatever number of them they wished. I chose to run three marathons in three days. It was hard and I was grateful the temperatures were reasonable for the ones I ran. 'Nuff said. ;)

In addition to the summertime marathons, I had the pleasure of running on a mixed masters team at the Ragnar NW Passage. We won our division and had a great time doing it! I would highly recommend this relay to anyone considering doing one. It was extremely well-organized and scenic. And for people like me who hate running in heat, the temperatures are usually very reasonable. (Hey, it's the Pacific Northwest! A heat wave is typically when it's been in the low 80s for a few days. ;) ) In addition, there are fewer teams than one will find at Hood-to-Coast Relay, so the traffic issues are considerably less than the zoo you will find at HTC.

That said, I did run HTC for the first time, too! It felt like it was a rite of passage for anyone living in the Portland, OR area. It was fun but, as I was warned, it was chaotic with the masses of people trying to get runners to exchanges and I think perhaps, in my opinion, it is a bit overrated. Would I do it again? Maybe, but probably not next year.

After having survived seven marathons, two half marathons and two team relays in 4.5 months, I decided to run The Oregon Marathon this September. It's a new marathon put on by Uberthons and this year they were basically using the Vernonia Marathon course along the Banks-Vernonia trail. The last couple years I've had scheduling conflicts during that marathon but have wanted to run it eventually. I have run parts of the trail on numerous occasions and it is a very nicely paved bike path that follows an old railroad line. Very few turns and mostly a low grade climb/drop through the countryside. September is usually a beautiful time of year in the PNW, so it seemed to be the perfect opportunity to get in one more marathon before I head to the East coast with my daughter to run the Marine Corps Marathon.

As luck would have it, I came down with a stomach virus the week leading into the marathon. Also, the weather was threatening to become nasty as the remnants of a typhoon was sweeping across the Pacific right towards our neck of the woods. I must admit I had a rather piss-poor attitude going into the race. So I told myself I would play it by ear and if it become too bad, I'd just run it as an easy training run.

It's a point-to-point run and we were encouraged to park our vehicles at the finish and board school buses to head out to the start. Nice idea, unless you have the world's tiniest and nervous bladder, along with a tender tummy from a week of stomach yuck! Add to that, the fact that our driver took a wrong turn and was lost. This necessitated turning back and starting over, which, of course, took more time. About three-quarters of the way there, I really we may have a problem, Houston! I started praying and strategizing. You see, I couldn't even walk up to the driver because a wheelchair competitor had boarded our bus and his fancy racing chair COMPLETELY blocked the aisle. I considered whether I could physically climb over the seats to reach the bus driver and BEG for her to STOP!

I realize she probably would've refused due to safety issues, HOWEVER, I do believe that the positioning of the wheelchair/racer was clearly against safety code! I then began to wonder if I could empty out my coffee mug (no, I was not drinking it!) and discretely pee into it. (Yeah, there would be no discreet anything.) In all my life I have NEVER hurt as bad (including childbirth) as I did on this ride. FINALLY we arrived. Naturally, we had to wait for the racing vehicle to be removed but I was the very next one off the bus. I nearly vaulted over people.

Luckily, we were able to use the high school restrooms and I was able to get right into a stall. I think the ladies may have any heard an audible cry of relief. I don't care. At this point I didn't know whether I should pee, vomit or both! (Note to self: Perhaps consider wearing Depends on long bus rides to race starts if that ride is on a school bus!)

The morning started out with pouring rain and it showed no signs of letting up. Again, we were lucky. We were allowed to hang out in the high school where it was dry and warm. The prospect of running 26.2 miles in the wet was almost certain. However, once you get onto the B-V trail, there is quite a bit of tree cover. This cut down on the wind effects but the droplets that did hit you were nice big sloppy ones from all the moisture collecting on the trees before they rolled off onto trail. At least the temperatures weren't too bad since it was a tropical storm that had hitting us.

This course was definitely a PR course. It could be divided into four distinct sections. The start (basically flat with a short downhill at the beginning), the second quarter (a very gradual uphill climb, culminating into a much steeper uphill that included a brief switchback), the third quarter (a 6 mile gradual downhill starting at about mile 14), and the final piece (flat, although exposed to wind and rain). I had strategized how I would have to reach my goal of breaking 3:40.  I knew for certain I would lose quite a bit of time on the hilly part, I also knew I typically lose 5% of my pace in the last six miles. So I ran slightly under pace for the first quarter and, as predicted, somewhat over pace for the next quarter. At the half I was exactly on pace for just breaking 3:40. I ran the 6 mile downhill under pace and tried to stay on pace for the last flat section on pace. I did slow down considerably by mile 22-23 when I started to feel my calves cramping. By mile 23 I decided to walk at the next mile marker for 30-40 steps, try to run to the next mile marker and do the same. It seemed to help.

I was soaked to the bone, a slight headwind/crosswind had developed and I had struggled with fueling due in part to residual effects of the stomach virus, I think. Because I started out the race running with a friend who also wanted to break 3:40, I think I did better than usual at keeping track of my pace and not being lulled into sub-8 minute miles. I decided I wanted to run my plan. Not run crazy fast at the start in the hope of having plenty left to take advantage of the 6 mile downhill. Having run the section of the train many times, I knew that it wasn't downhill enough to make you feel like you didn't have to work at it. I told my friend that I could not guarantee I could get her to the finish in under 3:40 but I thought I could get her close. Had she not succumbed to leg cramps, she would've made it. We separated about mile 12, but she wasn't far behind.

I was very fortunate to see one of my Honey Badger friends on the cheering runners along the course, as well as several other runner friends who were there in those craptastic conditions to support us poor suckers running in Typhoon Pabuk. Sometime in the last half mile, my HB friend pulled up alongside me, honking and shouting. (This was in a neighborhood and I'm sure the inhabitants were "thrilled" by this entertainment.) It was just what I needed at that point. They had us turning, and turning, and turning throughout the neighborhood! I never thought the finish line would show itself.

FINALLY, there it was! And there was my track coach waiting for those he knew were still out there. He screamed at me that I had one minute to get my ass across the finish. I looked up and saw 3:39 and change. I booked it as fast as my tired sore legs would carry me. I did it! I broke 3:40. Better yet, I actually broke 3:39!! Because they had started us in waves, I had actually started a minute or so after the gun. My official time: 3:38:29!!! Wow!

In spite of truly nasty conditions, many people ran PRs that day. My starting partner ran very close to her goal and had a great PR! I also PR'd and now have qualified for Boston 2015 as well as time-qualified for NYC 2014. It was a small race and so I was able to place 1st in my age group, 1st female master and 6th overall female. There were so many friends out there not just running it, but supporting us on a course that did not lend itself easily to crowd support since it's mostly in the woods.

It was good day. It also reinforced the "trust your training". I worried that I wasn't ready. I'd lost a little time being sick that week but friends assured me that my training would carry me to the finish. A marathon is an interesting distance. It takes patience, planning, faith, and the willingness to ignore the voices in your head that tell you "let's quit now!" Some days the voice wins, this day it didn't. :)

Trail Runner Wannabe

I never thought there would come a day that I actually would enjoy trail running. It seemed so foreign to me. Although I did my fair amount of tent camping and day hiking as a child with parents that loved the outdoors, it never was a vacation of my choice. I am a city girl! So when I took up running in a serious way two and half years ago, road running appeared to be my future. Then…I met a group of women who love trails and introduced me to the trails of our favorite city park, Forest Park.

These gals are more serious about trail running than I am, or at least they have more experience at doing it. Anyway, after just a couple runs in the park I found myself truly looking forward to that one morning a week when I would join some of the gals for a quiet, easy pace but sometimes hilly (not so easy ;) ) run in the green, cool, wonderland, which sits nestles near downtown Portland. Over time I mistakenly thought I might be turning into a trail runner. Well, I might not be turning into one but I am a trail wannabe. I tell you this because it explains the craziness I embarked upon this past weekend.

For some silly and half-brained reason, I thought I might be able to run the Wilson River East Trail with a friend who is an experienced (and extremely patient) trail runner. Little did I fully appreciate that 22 miles of hilly trail can be a light year away from 22 miles of road running. (That's okay. For you few trail runners sitting there snickering, you KNOW there was a day when you, too, were a novice at this game. ;) )

My patient trail mentor waiting for me at a point a mile or two from our finish.

Thankfully, the truly crazy badass trail runners (aka crazy 50-100 mile trail runners) that indicated they might want to join us had other plans, so it was just the two of us. Therefore, sharing my embarrassing struggles would only be sort of mortifying rather than being totally horrifying. :)

The day started out perfect. Cool and overcast. I brought my hydration pack (70 oz), which I don't typically use except in the winter because it usually makes me too warm. I added a 20 oz bottle of water in one of the front pockets because I figured I had no water purification method and didn't know if we would even be near a water source. (Better safe than sorry.) I also packed a lot of fuel items (Shot Blocks, Clif bars, GUs) as I knew fueling would be an absolutely crucial part of surviving this run. The pack seemed to weigh a ton on me, but I would be very grateful I had brought the extra items.

So we get to the trailhead around 8am, give or take a few minutes. It would be almost 11 miles to Jones Creek Campground from Elk Creek Campground. Neither my running buddy or I have ever been on the Wilson River East Trail so it would be an adventure for sure. Now let me just state that my running buddy is not only patient but she is a hill monster! It doesn't bother me that she pulls ahead like there is no gravity working on her since she usually slows down for me to catch up on the flats and downhills. I can sometimes hold my own on those stretches, although I am not quite as fast as she on the downhills. The purpose of our run wasn't speed this day so those things didn't matter anyway. It was all about time on your feet.  And, boy, did I get it!

Ah…right. I was only running for the camera at this point. 

The trailhead started on an uphill. Sort of long but not too bad. Then it went down, then it went back up, down a bit, then up, and up, and UP! Oh, Lord! I pushed the little evil devil away that had climbed onto my shoulder and had begun to whisper "Be afraid, be VERY afraid!"

Only one of the spectacular views along the top ridges.

The views I would experience in the next few hours were spectacular! 

The trail required traversing makeshift bridges over streams and river.

The single track had everything. Overgrowth, nice needle bed path, broken rocks, hidden rocks, tree roots, large gravelly shale-like sections near sheer drop-offs and tree roots! Oh, yes. I said that already. Well, there were lots of them and, FYI, when you are exhausted those roots and hidden rocks jump out of the ground and grab your feet sending you sailing through the air. (I lost count after fall number 5. Seriously!)

Hardly a scratch!

Didn't get colorful until the next day. I have a matching bruise on the other shoulder as well.

During the last four miles I could feel a mini-second wind setting in but I had lost all confidence that my feet would be feeling the same. So my downhills were much slower than I felt I "might" be able to otherwise go. I did indeed walk…A LOT!

The fearless leader relaxing riverside in some glorious sun!

Back at the Elk Creek campground, I couldn't wait to sit down and dangle my dog-tired feet and legs into the river. Standing up to head home turned out to be almost as challenging as running the trail. My legs were rubber at the end. All the same, I was rejoicing inside!! I had SURVIVED! It was the longest trail run I have ever done and certainly the most difficult with at least a 5187ft total elevation gain. It was also the longest I have ever run anything in my entire life, four hours fifty minutes (4:50:00)!!

Note to self: turn off auto-pause on trails. Lost 2 miles!

The next day I could not believe how every muscle in my body hurt! No wonder those trail runners are so damn fit looking. The only time I ever felt so sore was from sitting in a car for 13 hours after running the Big Sur Marathon! No way could I get myself to do a recovery run the next day, but I made it to spin class the second day and my legs have started to forgive me and come back to life.

Was it worth testing my body's limits with a 22 mile trail run over hilly terrain? Yes. Will I want to do it again? ABSOLUTELY!! (But I might have to find a running partner who doesn't mind the snail's pace. ;) )

Rejoicing my accomplishment down by the river!

P.S. A big THANK YOU to my running partner, Jaymi, who believed I could do it and has the patience of a saint!

The Joys of Boston

It’s hard to believe it’s been over three months since the 117^th running of the Boston Marathon and that sad ending of what by all accounts should have been a spectacular day. I’ve already blogged about the bombings but I feel it is not only acceptable but required to also blog about the joys of that day, regardless of the tardiness of this report. To hold onto the acts of terror without acknowledging the happiness and successes of that day is to succumb to the will of those individuals intent on stealing what makes Americans and all runners great, i.e. the ability to embrace challenges and celebrate the journey of life.

My husband and I arrived in Boston at the crack of dawn on that Friday before the marathon. After a little sightseeing and much needed food stop, we hit the Expo! WOW! 

I made it!!

Of course, the check-in/packet pick ups went like clockwork. After over a hundred years, the Boston Athletic Association has this stuff done to a fine art. My excitement was almost uncontrollable. I was here. Me! Old, slow ME! Dreams do come true. My only disappointment that day would be having the Red Sox game at Fenway Park get rained out. L  A real disappointment for my baseball loving hubby, too! We still managed a good bit of sightseeing with enough time for me to rest my legs.

Yes, I DO need another pair of shoes!

In the following two days, I would return to the Expo no less than three times. I never did see every inch of it. It was simply too much to absorb and (frankly) too much for my pocketbook. Yes, I did get ANOTHER pair of new Saucony running shoes. So what?! A Boston Edition of Saucony Virrata. How could I resist??

Welcome to the expo!

Checking out the fare.

One of the things I most appreciated at the expo was the video they had playing, which took you on a guided tour of every inch of the course with narration by many notable runners. Tips on how the course might be best run were extremely helpful and I quickly realized that the first downhill six miles really might not be as simple as one would hope. Yes, it definitely is downhill, which makes wanting to blast out of the starting gate very tempting BUT there are also some nice gentle rolling hills in that stretch. It would be easy to forget about those and waste your energy on them during the first 6-10 miles leaving you unprepared for when you begin to approach the real hills at Newton. My stomach became a bit queasy at the thought but I pushed back those negative voices and noted that I would err on the side of conservative pacing come Monday.

Relaxing at a French bistro on Boylston after a tough day at the Expo!

A little sightseeing Saturday afternoon found me helping out some of the locals. ;)

The air was a bit nippy, and it looked good that it would be nice temps for race day!

Beacon Hill

Original street work and modern wiring?!

Saying hello to Paul. 

On Sunday evening, after a delicious meal at a small local Italian restaurant with my fellow Honey Badgers of the Portland Chapter (Melissa, Rose and Stacey), I was back in my room at a decent hour and in bed early enough to be able to get up at the 3:30 a.m. Yes, most people really don’t need to get up that early for a run, but I often have G.I. issues that must be addressed and need time to well…flush out. ;) As with most nights before a marathon, I slept very little so it was easy to roll out of bed on time.

My hotel was located in the financial district and approximately 1.25 miles from the Boston Common, an easy walk to the buses that would take us out to Hopkinton.

Me in the black and white jacket heading for the buses.

Buses as far as the eye could see.

I was to meet up with my friends at a designated spot and my friend (and volunteer personal pacer), Wade, was to meet us there as well. As luck would have it, it was barely managed chaos and while I did meet up with the HBs, I missed Wade. So I would be running my first Boston on my own. I was nervous about this but secretly happy for my “pacer”. This was his first Boston, too, and I knew he had trained hard for it. He was set to run his fastest marathon to date, and now he could do this without me dragging him down.

I have never before seen so many buses and so many people trying to get on them. It is nothing short of amazing to see how the Boston Athletic Association has all aspects of this race down to a science. The bus ride is very long and I was extremely grateful that I heeded the warnings and made a last minute porta-potty trip before boarding the bus. ;)

Apparently, I decided to wear my scuba gear! LOL!

The days leading up to the marathon had been rather cool and gray. I had been watching weather reports for a couple weeks and while they often showed the threat of a 72-74 degree day, that temperature appeared to be dropping as race day approached. There was even the chance of a sprinkle in some forecasts. As a Pacific Northwesterner, this was welcome news for racing conditions. Anything over 65 degrees becomes a problem for this runner. :P  As the buses pulled out of Boston, blue skies and sunshine gave hope for a beautiful day but temps remained quite pleasant. Cool enough to need my throwaway jacket even in the first mile or two of the race.

When you arrive at Hopkinton, you enter the runners Village. It’s setup on school property with lots of tents offering food, coffee, water, fruit some covered area and, of course, HUNDREDS of porta-potties. There was music playing, lots of field area to throw down a blanket and sit, or sleep, or whatever, until you heard the announcement of the upcoming Wave line-up. To check your bag before you walk to your corral, you go to where a sea of buses were parked, find the bus window that has the range of numbers that cover your bib number and toss your bag up to one of the thousands of stellar volunteers. Easy and quick. Those buses would be waiting for us at the finish, making retrieval of checked bags just as easy.

Watch out! Honey Badger alert! New HBs must don the big girl panties.

My friends and I made the mistake of waiting a little too long to use the porta-potty one last time. I think I might have been one of the last people out of there. This caused us to really have to hustle to our starting corral. I barely arrived at mine (Wave 3, Corral 2) on time. Having missed the entrance in the gates earlier, a volunteer grabbed me and pushed me into the front area of my corral through a small gap. I arrived just in time to hear the final announcements. I’m sure there might have been a national anthem played but I don’t recall because I was suddenly feeling very alone in a sea of people and feeling the need to say a quiet prayer for a safe race, as I usually do at all races. Little would I know how important that prayer would be.

Starting area

Because the waves/corrals are seeded by qualifying times, you are surrounded by people who are capable of running a minimum time similar to yours. This is quite different than starting in corrals where people are seeded by often over-optimistic estimated finish times. Yes, those first couple miles at Boston are a bit slower than you might like but you shouldn’t find them terribly slow as there is not the need to slow down for all those truly slow runners who had unrealistic goals.

Fortunately, I had taken the time to study the course map, most especially the elevation chart, and taken mental notes during the video at the expo, therefore, I felt fairly confident with to expect at the beginning of the course and how I might be tempted to try banking some time. I resisted. That tactic has never worked for me. I needed to stick with the plan. So I did.  I had promised myself – no sub 8:00 miles. It was hard. I would feel myself flying, look at my watch and see that I was running 7:45-7:50, so I would force myself to slow down. It was hard.

I don’t like carrying my own hydration. The Boston Marathon is a great race for people like me. There were aid stations EVERY mile! Each had Gatorade, water and porta-potties. This made hydration management easy. If I felt I could skip a station, no problem since there was another one a mile later. I was also able to take in more Gatorade than I typically use. This was a tremendous help for me as I still struggle with fueling issues. The Gatorade helped me in that regard. I was able to choke down a few Hot Tamales (yes, cinnamon candy) and even half a gel pack. Turns out this would be the first marathon I’ve run where I did NOT hit the wall! Success!

The hills on the course are really not that bad IF you’ve trained on hills! I felt sorry for some of my fellow runners who openly complained about the hills very early in the run. Since it is harder to find a flat course rather than a hilly one in my neck of the woods, I found the hills less challenging than many of the hills back home. 

The halfway point, which happens to be just about where the Wellesley College screaming wall is, was my favorite part.  Yes, you can hear those college girls screaming a good half mile before you reach it! The enthusiasm is infectious. If you’re feeling the least bit tired at this point, you will welcome the injection of energy these college kids will give you. And yes, there were offers of kisses, but I declined. Seriously? Kissing some old lady with crusty salt brine and a runny nose? Yeah, wasn’t going to happen.

I would have many firsts this day. My first Boston Marathon, the first time I have ever run a marathon where there were people cheering for you the ENTIRE 26.2 miles, the first time I have ever run a marathon where I was with other runners (i.e. felt like a group run, no spacing out of runners) the ENTIRE 26.2 miles, the first time I have ever run a marathon and NOT hit the wall!  Oh, yes. It did hurt a bit. The sun started to bother me during the last half, even though it remained a comfortable temperature and the bottoms of my feet started cramping in the last 4-5 miles. That made for a proper midfoot strike very difficult BUT I did not feel I had hit the wall. I still had the energy to finish.

The skies became a bit hazy and overcast-like towards the end, and it started to feel a bit muggy. I was not sure what my time was going to be as I did not look at my cumulative time on my watch but was really paying more attention to how I was managing my pace. In retrospect, I feel I could’ve pushed a wee bit harder on the hills; however, I feared blowing up at the end…so I played it safe and backed off on them a bit. 

Nope. Don't know the man in the background. Need to learn how to photoshop him away.

It was almost anti-climatic when I finished with a respectable at a 3:41:47. I had PR’d by over 13 minutes and BQ’d by over 28 minutes, meaning I’ll get the earliest registration for next year’s Boston. I wanted to scream, jump and shout with joy but husband was somewhere in the sea of people in friends and family waiting area. I would have to wait for the rejoicing. Interestingly, I did not cry. I thought I would but I wanted to jump and laugh with glee, not cry.  No. I did not cry at the finish.

I did my crying when I crossed the starting line! The tears flowed easily then. I was overcome with feelings of gratitude. Grateful for all the hours and miles of training. Grateful for my fellow training partners who shared those miles with me. Grateful for my HB friends who made me believe that running at any pace makes you a real runner.  Grateful for my family and non-runner friends who listened ad nauseam about my miles, my diet, my racing plans, my running insecurities. Grateful that I made it to the start line with seven weeks of 60+ mile training weeks and coming out the other end uninjured. The tears followed easily and quietly that first half mile or so.

After finishing, I would be grateful, too! Grateful that I finished and I was able to walk to safety with my husband. Grateful that my HB friends and all my fellow Portlanders and their families who were there in Boston would make it home safely. Grateful that the majority of my fellow Portlanders also had great race results and that most were able to finish ahead of the bombing event. At the time I crossed the finish line, I was grateful that I finally had a marathon that went as hoped and planned. I had trusted my training and I was blessed with a successful first Boston Marathon.

I heard the first bomb, I saw it’s cloud of debris falling to the ground (thankfully, I could not see beyond the tops of people’s heads), I saw and heard the second bomb. There was uncertainty and confusion. I ran into Wade in the crowds. He ran a spectacular race and it was one of the brief moments of shared joy before we hustled off in opposing directions.

The 117^th Boston Marathon will always be special and remembered. Perhaps not for all the right reasons, but for me and many, many more people, it will be remembered for some very good reasons. My first Boston, my first sub 3:45 marathon, my first no-wall marathon. As icing on the cake the winner of my age group was non-other than Joan Benoit Samuelson, 1984 Olympic gold medalist! She ran an AG course record at 2:50:29! I ran in a race with one of my running idols and I placed 39th in my AG. 39th?! I broke the top 40 in my AG and I'm as happy about that as if I had won. But then don't we all win when we achieve goals we once perceived as impossible? ;)

Hubby and I stayed a couple more days. (It was a planned mini-vacation.) The people of Boston are kind, generous, gritty and many came up to me to express their concern as to whether I was able to finish my run and whether I would return.  Children were coming up to me to congratulate me on running Boston. (Everyone in town knows if you are wearing the jacket, you were in the race.)  My reply to those inquiring Bostonians is, OF COURSE, I’m coming back!! The Boston Marathon is a classic, not to be missed and totally worth the commitment to get there!

It really does all start here…with crazy friends, family and runablers!