New years and new plans

I've come to the realization that every year, without fail, I find myself lacking the will to really focus on working out starting around mid-October.  That's about the time I slack off and lose interest in my fitness routine and it lasts until the first part of January.  In 2008 I started my weight loss journey in May, lost weight consistently for a while, then fell off the wagon all winter until after the New Year.  I started tracking my food again, got down to a total weight loss of about 55 pounds, then stopped counting calories for the last few months of the year.  Come January of last year, then, I was in the mood to get serious again.  We joined the gym, got a trainer, I signed up for the marathon, and was consistently dedicated until race time, after which I just couldn't get myself consistently back into the gym.  And then a couple of weeks ago I started feeling compelled to go work out again.  Apparently this is just part of my annual cycle, and I'm not going to get all weird about it.  It is what it is.

Now that it's January, though, and I'm feeling all gung ho again, I'm back in the gym at least 5 days a week and ready to really get something accomplished.  I've promised Kourt that I won't get into a race training regimen until after the wedding, so no marathons this year.  And that's probably good, actually, because now that I'm on the other side of it I realize how much marathon training got in the way of weight loss.  You really can only focus on one thing at a time. 

So this year my big focus is the wedding dress.  I want to lose weight and look great on my wedding day.  I do have a bit of a side goal to keep running with the goal of improving my 5k time.  I'm good with distance, but not great with speed.  And racing is fun, so I definitely want to do more 5k and 10k races just for fun.  But this year I'm going to focus mostly on building a better body.  And to that end I'm going to lift weights.  A lot.  Hardcore.

I like lifting weights, and I've really liked working with our trainer.  We've learned a lot.  But marathon training doesn't leave much room for weight training.  You don't want to overwork your leg muscles on days that might affect your long runs or speed work days, and the long amounts of time spent on trails and treadmills really don't leave much time left over for strength training.  Now that I'm not spending three to five hours on a trail each weekend or doing hour long running workouts during the week, bring on the power lifting! 

In fact, I'm not even going to rely on calorie tracking unless I have to.  So far, without tracking my food or having an intensive cardio plan, I've lost three pounds in the last week or so.  I've been doing short treadmill runs to slowly build my ability to run faster over short distances, mostly as a warmup before spending 45mins to 1hr on focused weightlifting.  When I have time, then, I do some cardio after. 

It is time, though, to say goodbye to our trainer.  We've learned a lot, and I'm confident that we can put together our own workout routines without him, but our contract is up and financially it's time to focus that money on other things.  It's been one of the best things we've ever invested in, though, and I highly recommend it. 

Freezing my jingle bells off!

Immediately after the marathon we started talking about doing some smaller races on a regular basis, but it took us a while to kind of settle on a race and make the effort to sign up.  There was one on my birthday at the end of October, but it was kind of soon after the marathon and we had other things planned for that day.  And there was the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving but Kourt and I both had to work.

So we signed up for the Jingle Bell Run.  My sister signed the three of us up and I didn't think a whole lot about it until yesterday, when we went to pick up our packets.  Got a nice long sleeved shirt, and they had jingle bells for us (which was good, because we totally procrastinated on the "deck yourself out in holiday gear for the run" part).

When we got up this morning, it was 17 degrees out.  I've never run in weather that cold.  I put on the long sleeved shirt under my Chicago Marathon tee and then a hoodie over that, plus my earwarmer hat and a pair of gloves and hoped that would be warm enough.  After all, it was only three miles and I was hoping it would be closer to the 30s by the time we started.

But no, it was somewhere around 22 degrees at race time.  The first part of the route was all uphill and breathing in the sub-freezing air made it really hard to run.  In the sun it wasn't too bad, but in shade it was seriously uncomfortably cold.  Still, though, realizing that the sooner you get to the finish line the sooner you can feel heat is a pretty good motivator.  I walked more than I wanted and didn't make my best time ever, but after all was said and done it was still pretty fun and my time wasn't as bad as I feared it would be.  I even beat my sister across the finish line!

And then we went to IHOP and ate pancakes. :)

The photos...

Even in my short time of interacting with runners, I know it's a common complaint that it seems they never take good race photos.  And, yeah, most of the pics of me from the marathon are, you know, nothing I'd pay money for a copy of.  Either I look like I'm in pain, homicidal, really flabby, or like I just tripped on something.  There's one pretty decent pic where I'm not only running but actually looking up and not glaring or grimacing.  I might get a print of that one.  And shadowy under-eye circles be damned, I do like the pic of me right after I got my medal, even if the medal is turned backwards.  But I'm going to go ahead and put all the pics that I stole from the photo site (thus the watermarks) up here just because it really is an accurate depiction of how I felt the last half of the race.

Epilogue: And now?

Back in February, right after we signed up for the marathon, I posted a blog entry on my other blog about the 10 reasons I'd decided to do a marathon.  So now that it's over, I thought it might be interesting to look back at my initial motivation and see how things turned out.

Why I did it:

1.  For my health

In the end, I didn't end up losing as much weight as I thought I would during training.  Actually, right at the end I even gained a handful of pounds.  And that's okay.  I think I finally realized that making sure I was getting enough fuel to get me through my runs was more important than the number on the scale.  Going into race day I still didn't feel much like an athlete or even like I was in great shape necessarily, and I think I really expected to go into it feeling like the lone overweight person among tens of thousands of veteran runners.  But I was wrong.  All along the route I was passing people who looked to be thin and fit and well trained and I was getting passed by people who were heavier than me.  I finished alongside a group of triathletes.  My fitness level can't be judged by the size I wear or how I look in my yoga pants, and while that's sometimes hard to believe when you're in the gym surrounded by thinner, more muscular people, it's very apparent out on the marathon course. 

2.  Because distance walking is both challenging and enjoyable

Somehow this turned into a quest to learn to run.  And that turned into a bit of a quest to find the same zen in running that I always got from walking.  And in the end I'm not sure any of that was part of the reason I kept going.  There were long, long stretches of the training runs and the marathon itself that were absolutely NOT enjoyable.  It gets miserable.  It gets really, really hard.  There comes a point where you can't turn your brain off and you can't think of anything else but putting one foot in front of the other and making it to the end.  But there's joy in that, too -- pushing through when it sucks and still making it to the end and realizing you did it and are still alive and kicking.

The weirdest thing I've realized in all this turns out to be that beyond it sometimes being a meditative activity, I'm actually kind of built for endurance events.  I may not be the fastest, but I made it through this whole crazy thing without really hurting myself and I've recovered pretty quickly.  It's kind of funny that after hating the idea of running my entire life, it turns out to be the one sport I'm cut out for.

3.  Because it's totally personal

My thought when I started this whole thing was that this would be something I did for myself, by myself. It wasn't about anyone else, and only I could push myself through training and get myself to the finish line. And that is absolutely true. But I didn't do it in a vacuum, and part of what made me keep going was the fact that so many people were rooting for me to finish.  Even the people cheering on the runners along the route were a big help, and I'm still really surprised at the enthusiasm of the people who were there to help and encourage.  It helped to read some of the really funny signs (like "toenails are overrated" and "way to go, total strangers!" and the one that said "because 26.3 miles would be totally crazy") and hear people yelling for us right up until the end.  All the people who came out and set up their own aid stations and had their garden hoses going to help us cool off, and even the people who had cookies and jello shots for the runners around mile 24 (I didn't partake, mostly because I didn't think my stomach would like it at that point, but it made me laugh).  Even the other runners pushing each other along (when I was really struggling to keep going, another runner came up next to me and said, "cheer up, it's not like they shoot us if we don't finish!").  I don't know why it surprised me to suddenly feel like I was part of this huge community who really, really wanted to help everyone get to the same goal, no matter how long it took, but it really was surprising.  I was amazed to see so many people stay out there on their lawns for seven hours waiting for the very last runner to go by.  And that's pretty damn cool.

4.  To prove that I'm able to carry through

And I did.  It wasn't perfect.  I didn't do every workout I should have.  I didn't push as hard as I could have every time.  I could be disappointed that my time was so much slower than I expected, and that technically I shouldn't have been allowed to finish at all.  I could be down on myself for slacking on my training when I shouldn't have.  But I'm not.  I trained.  I trained hard.  I finished.  And I got my medal.  I stuck it through to the end goal despite feeling many times that I'd screwed up and wouldn't be able to make it. 

5.  To prove I'm as capable as I like to think I am

This entire experience from starting to pre-train to crossing the finish line has been one long battle with my own confidence.  And what I finally realized somewhere around Chinatown was that the first time you do anything, no matter how well prepared you think you are, you're going to doubt that things will work out.  There is no certainty.  There aren't guarantees.  I spent 26.2 miles and eight months before that worried I wouldn't see that finish line.  And I realize that I've bailed out of lots of things because I wanted a guarantee that everything would work out in the end and wasn't willing to face the risk of failure.  There's a first time for every thing we do, and that first time is never guaranteed to work out.  And for a million reasons, not the least of which was that I knew other people were rooting for me to do this, I finally managed to just keep pushing forward to a goal even though there was a chance it wouldn't end the way I wanted it to. 

Beyond that, though, what I really feel personally proud of is that I proved that my body is capable of more than most people would give it credit for.  I went to the gym today, and I have to say I held my head a little bit higher than usual.  It's not that I suddenly feel more capable than others there.  I'm not more fit than anyone else.  Everyone else in the gym could train and complete a marathon if they wanted to, too.  But I did it!  No matter what people might assume when they see me, I'm a fucking marathoner! 

6.  Because it's reasonably huge

Yeah, it is kind of huge.  A half marathon would not, obviously, have been the same level of challenge.  I will say, now, that I kind of wish I'd done some smaller races during preparation for this one just so I had a better idea of how the whole race thing works and had more practice at pacing.  But otherwise, I'm glad I jumped right into the deep end.

7.  To practice following the wisdom and advice of others

Funny thing about this one... ask one question regarding running, and you'll get a zillion different answers.  I did end up at a point where I just had to stop reading running forums and articles and just go, "hey, it's working for me so far, so I'm going to go with it."  But I followed a training schedule and stuck with it and didn't try to make stuff up as I went along to avoid having to do things the conventional way.  I followed my trainer's advice unless I felt like it was hindering me more than helping me (when I do this again I will know to stop doing heavy lifting with my legs during training, no matter what Andrew thinks).  I followed the tried and true methods, and I know that's the reason I was able to finish.

8.  Because there doesn't have to be anything beyond the finish line

I think one of the first things I said when I found Brenda and Kourt after the race was over was, "That sucked.  That really sucked."  And for probably 15 minutes I was sure I never wanted to put myself through that ever again.  Every muscle from waist to ankle was on fire.  I was exhausted.  The bottoms of my feet were a little raw.  I was miserable.  And then I caught my breath and my legs stopped hurting so much, and I knew I wasn't done with marathoning.  I know I don't have to do it again, but I am kind of hooked.  In fact, now Kourt wants to start running with the goal of being marathon ready for Chicago 2013.  And I'm really excited about that.  And now that I've done it once and know what to expect from training and race day, I feel really kind of pumped to do it again without all the worry and uncertainty over whether I'm doing it right.  And it's not like it'll be hard to beat my time the next go around...  lol

9.  Because once I earn it, it's mine

Mine, bitch.  This medal is mine.

10.  Because failure isn't a catastrophic option

Yeah, it would have been okay if I hadn't made it.  I would have been disappointed.  It would have sucked really, really hardcore.  I'd have beaten myself up pretty hard for not training as hard at the end as I should have.  But it would have been okay. 

But I am SOOO glad I didn't fail.

Somebody along the route had a sign that said "26.2 will change your life."  And now that I'm a few days out and able to walk normally again, I'm sitting here wondering exactly how this has or will change my life.  I can't say it hasn't changed things.  And maybe it's just that this whole training process has slowly changed how I approach and look at things, and that's why it doesn't seem so huge and significant to me.  Not that I'm not really, really proud of myself.  But the thing about the marathon is that you build up to it, spend months preparing for it, and on race day it's a matter of pushing just a bit harder and just a bit farther.  It's not about that one day on the race course, it's about months of little pushes, little changes, little challenges.  I suppose that's rather deep and metaphorical, huh?

So, now what?  For now I'm hopping back on the weight loss wagon and focusing on our upcoming wedding.  And as long as Kourt wants to run, I'll be right there with her.  It'll be nice to have a running partner.  She wants to try some shorter races and work her way up instead of doing it the batshit crazy way like I did.  And now that I've gotten a taste of racing, I'm pretty excited about trying some shorter distances for fun.  So I'm not done with this blog.  I crossed one finish line, but there are more to come.

Race Day Recap

I got up at 5:30 and ate a Clif Bar. I was dressed and ready to hit the road by 6am. My sister went with me to the starting area to see me off, but had decided not to run the race herself.
We caught a bus to Grant park with a bunch of other runners, and most of the chatter was about the weather. It was going to be pretty warm. I was just eager to get started, as I figured my nerves would settle down once I got across the starting line.
When I got through to the start corrals, they weren't open yet. So I stood around with everyone else, used the port-o-potty, and then was one of the first into the last start corral. Took us quite a while to actually get up to the starting line, but eventually we made it and finally started running.
I ran the first mile and a half. That wasn't part of my plan, but we were all just moving as a pack and I never spotted a one mile marker. When it finally thinned out enough that I knew I wouldn't get run over if I slowed down, I started walking. And suddenly we were at the 2 mile mark. And that 1.5 mile run felt remarkably easy.
Things went really smooth for the first 10 miles. I was feeling strong, my legs weren't unduly tight, and I was making good time. But then the temperature started to rise, and heat is the biggest problem when I run.
Kourt and Brenda were waiting at mile 12, and I got hugs. I needed them. I was starting to wonder why I'd decided to do this.
Still, I was doing okay through about mile 14. My hamstrings were tightening up and I was watching my mile times get slower, and there just isn't as much shade on the south side. By mile 15 I was starting to doubt I'd finish in time and thought about dropping out. But I turned around a couple of times and could see a lot of runners still behind me, so I pushed through. Runners were being taken off in ambulances at aid stations, so I kind of felt like it would be wussy to quit just because I was hot and my hamstrings were sore. I decided that as long as I was able to keep going, if there were runners behind me and refreshments at the aid stations, I'd push on even if it meant walking the whole way. I'd keep going until the sweep vehicles came along to shut down the race.
I dragged through miles 15-18, all the while entertaining thoughts of quitting and never doing this again. But once I hit mile 19 I started to realize that I was really almost there. I started a little countdown at 20 -- six miles is just four laps on my training trail, and that made it sound like no big deal.
I could tell we were pretty much the end of the pack. Even though there were still plenty of volunteers at the aid stations with gatorade and water, they were starting to bag up the piles of cups and break down the tables. Still, there were runners behind me and no sign of the sweep vehicles.
Until mile 24. Somebody said something about flashing lights and, sure enough, there we're police cars about four or five blocks behind us. By mile 25 they were close enough I could hear short siren bursts.
I was not about to be pushed to the sidewalk or be the last to finish.
With one mile left to go, I pushed with all I had left. I passed a little group of triathletes with 800m to go, and heard one of them go "hey, don't we swim the last 800?"
We turned into the final stretch and I turned to see about 30 runners still between me and the cop cars. So I ran. Okay, I jogged. All the way to the finish line.
Kourt and Brenda weren't allowed to be at the finish line to meet me, as they kept the guests fenced off from the finish area. I got my medal and shuffled though the mile-long stretch between finish line and the 27th Mile party area. They were waiting for me with balloons and some Starbucks. I finished slow enough that they'd run out of beer at the post-race party, but I didn't really care.
I finished in 35,517th place, with a finish time of 7:01:51. Apparently they kept the finish line open longer due to the heat, and another 100 or so runners still finished after me.
But I did it. I crossed the finish line and got my medal and, best of all, made it through training and the race with no real injuries and with all my toenails intact.
Will I do it again? Right after I finished I felt like swearing off running for good. But once I caught my breath and walked out some of the aches, I knew I was probably hooked on this. So yeah, I can see myself doing this again. But I've promised Kourt I won't start training for another marathon until after our honeymoon.

Here we go.

We're on the bus to the starting line. I think I must be crazy.

One...

Had a serious bout of full on nervousness yesterday, that started the minut we got on the bus to go to the expo. Either the prospect of finally going to get my bib number and timing chip made it suddenly real, or I was still subconsciously nervous that I wouldn't be able to pick up my packet because I was registered under a nickname. Whatever it was, I had a metric buttload of butterflies throwing a rave in my stomach.

We got to the expo and picked up our packets with no drama, got the tickets for the hospitality tent so Kourt can meet us at the end, and got all our schwag. And then my stomach calmed down.

So I guess I'm all set. I'm sure I'll be a nervous wreck in the morning, but I'm trying to convince my brain that it's just another Sunday run, only there will be thousands and thousands of other people there. No biggie, right?