You just can’t fake your way through a marathon

Who knew?  No matter how much you rest up, man up, or drug yourself up, you just cannot fake your way through a marathon.

But that didn’t stop me from trying.

I spent all of last week drinking orange juice and green tea; popping antihistamines and advil; and talking myself up as if a full week without running was “actually a great taper for all the hard months I’ve put in.”  Going to the starting line in Hopkinton, I had myself convinced that I actually could pull off a feat of mind over matter. All I had to do was start strong, and then run tough.

Sounds easy, right?

In a weird twist of irony, the last thing I taught my kids on Friday was the meaning of the phrase “easier said than done.”  And boy did I learn that lesson the hard way on Monday.

The race started perfectly: Aimee, Fred and I were at the front of the second wave, which meant we didn’t have to elbow our way through any crowds.  We sailed through Hopkinton, Ashland, and Framingham at a comfortable 8:10/mile pace.  I felt great, and even remarked to Fred that my legs felt “excited and loose” at mile 5.  Miles 6 and 7 passed without incident, but with the soundtrack of a Poison cover band and the smell of BBQs.

At mile 8, I knew I couldn’t keep up this pace for all 26 miles.  So Fred and I said good luck to Aimee, and dropped back to about 8:25/mile.  Still felt good though.

At mile 10, my chest tightened up a bit.  Mile 11-12, had some weird trouble breathing.  By 13, my legs started to go…and that’s when the wheels really started to come off.

I won’t belabor the details of the last 13 miles.  I will just say that at the halfway point, we were still on pace to qualify for next year.  But every mile got slower, and included more frequent walking breaks.  My legs stopped feeling “excited and loose”, and instead felt like two long pieces of cement.  I thought about quitting probably 17 different times.  We walked, we stretched, we ate pretzels and water from a nice family in Wellesley, and we stopped at the medical tent at mile 18.

Boy does it seem insurmountable to walk/run 8 whole miles to the finish line.  But I realized somewhere around mile 20 that Fred was not going to let me quit:  “We WILL get there, Bets.  I don’t care how long it takes.  I don’t care how much we walk.  We WILL do this.  You can do this, you are going to finish this thing.” So we took it a half mile at a time.  Friends at mile 22 and 23, then family and roommates at mile 24, more friends at 24.5, and the Dana Farber cheering zone at mile 25.

As we turned onto Boylston, I gasped out “let’s just try to break 4:20.”  It was a hell of a way off from my 3:30 goal, but I had to focus on something.  We jogged across the finish line, and then I just let his arm fall around my shoulders.  No words, no tears.  Just a weird mix of pride and frustration: pride at finishing the damn thing on a very hard day–but frustration at the months of work I’d put in for this result.

With two days’ worth of perspective, I can now say that the marathon was a success [of a different variety than last year].  No, I didn’t run a 3:30.  No, I didn’t qualify for next year.  But I saw a sign in Wellesley that every marathoner should remember: “We don’t care about pace or speed…it’s the SPIRIT of the marathon that matters!”  I raised a lot of money for a great cause…I honored Karen and Theo in the best way I could…and I finished something I’d set out in December to do.

So there you have it.  You cannot fake your way through a marathon if your body is not 100%.  It wasn’t my persistent training that got me through;and  it wasn’t a feat of mind over matter that helped me finish.  In the end, what got me down Boylston Street was the love and encouragement of Fred on my side, and the thoughts of Aunt Karen and Theo in my heart.  Sometimes you just need a little boost–mental or physical–from your loved ones to help finish something that seems impossible.

IT’s TIME

If you’re reading this on Monday, I’m probably out running!  If you’d like to follow along, go to

www.baa.org

There you should be able to type in my name and bib number (15835) and get updates about where I am along the course.

If you’re coming out to actually watch the race in Boston, I’ll be starting at 10:30am.  I’m hoping to run about 8:20/mile, which will have me finishing right around 3 hours and 4o minutes.  I’ll be wearing a bright orange Dana Farber singlet, and I’ll have Fred on either side of me!

I’ll write with a little race report sometime later in the week.  In the meantime I’m looking forward to passing Fred’s friends at mile 23, my parents and roommates at mile 24, my brother at 24.5, and Theo at mile 25!  It will be a busy day.  If you feel inspired to donate, please do!  Every dollar makes a difference 🙂

Marathon Weekend…

ONE DAY:  http://www.rundfmc.org/2010/betsyg

It’s like the entire holiday season jam-packed into three days.  The excitement, the preparations, the anxiety, the friends and family to see and visit with, the emphasis on [healthy] food and drinks [water],and people to thank that have made your journey (since the last marathon) easier, more enjoyable, and more do-able.

I kicked off marathon weekend third-grade style, with some absolutely beautiful surprise artwork by my students:

my personal favorite, "You're our #1"

"Stay in the race!" and "Don't give up!" were their words of encouragement

Then the excitement continued on Friday evening, as I was a guest on “Broadside” on NECN with Jim Braude.  Sure, why not do a little plug for Dana Farber and play a pop culture news IQ quiz?!  Sounded like a great idea until I woke up on Friday morning with the voice of an 85 year old smoker.

Since then I’ve been trying to lay low and kick this sinus infection in time for Monday.  Fingers crossed!  Fred and I went to the Expo to pick up our numbers this morning, and now it’s just water, carbs, and movies from here on out!

7 days, 7 reasons why I run

With just 7 days before the marathon, many of my teammates are excited, nervous, and anxiously awaiting Marathon Monday!  Now that I’ve done this twice before, I am still excited…but I’m also sick with a nasty cold, and carrying a fair amount of anxiety about how much it actually hurts to run 26.2 miles.

So, to motivate myself and to give you readers a glimpse into a nervous runner’s brain, I give you 7 Reasons Why I Run.

1) I run for Aunt Karen

with Aunt Karen at high school graduation, and leaving for South Africa

Many of you know that I am running primarily in honor of my Aunt Karen, who was the coolest babysitter when I was a kid.  She was the one person I allowed to drive me to school dances (because it wasn’t cool to go with your parents). She was the babysitter we couldn’t wait to have when Mom and Dad wanted to escape for the weekend.  And when I found out in 2008 that she had cancer, the first thing I did was go for a run to clear my head.

It’s an awkward and disarming feeling to have the tables turned: to have someone that has cared and nurtured you for years to suddenly need some care and nurturing.  I felt helpless and disconnected–she was undergoing tests and treatments in Maine, while I was here in Boston.

And so I ran.  I ran to make sense, and I ran to forget.  Soon realizing that I couldn’t forget, I decided to do quite the opposite.  That was when I started fund raising and training for my first marathon–the 2008 Chicago Marathon, as part of the American Cancer Society Team.

Three marathons and nearly $12,000 later, I am still running and fund raising in Aunt Karen’s honor. 

2) I run for Theo

I met Theo about a year and a half ago, and I am so lucky I did!  At the time, Theo was just finishing up his treatments at Dana Farber, and he’s made a strong recovery for a 3 year old.

We’ve had fun playing games, coloring, going to the Science Museum and the swan boats, and practicing some Theo-style yoga.  He’ll be out there at mile 25 on Marathon Monday, and I can’t think of a better reason to keep ticking off the miles…every mile is one step closer to hearing his cheers!

high fives after "roley ball"

3) I run because it’s something I can do to help

at the finish line, 2009

Seeing Karen and Theo, and so many other loved ones fight their battles always leaves me thinking: they don’t get to choose.  They have to face this disease and endure the treatments, whether it’s rainy or sunny, whether they are tired or not.  I run for Dana Farber because it’s something I can do to help.  I cannot change the diagnosis, and I cannot make the treatment any easier.  But I can rally my friends, family and coworkers to help do something in the race against cancer.  Every dollar makes a difference.

I’ve raised $3,600 so far this year.  If you’d like to help, please visit this link:  http://www.rundfmc.org/2010/betsyg

4) I run because I stress!

Have you ever spent a day with a room full of 8 year olds?  How about a full week, or better yet–9 months?  While I do maintain that every day is pure pleasure and entertainment, that doesn’t mean that stress is nowhere to be found.  My job is incredibly demanding, and sometimes I need to run just to work the kinks out of a frustrating lesson or an irritating day.  Many people hit the bars after work.  I hit the roads.

5) I run because I can

a rare public appearance in the accident accessories

When I had my nasty bike accident 2 years ago, I was unable to run–let alone work, cook, or dress myself. Two months in a neck brace and a sling, with a broken vertebrae and a broken shoulder provided some good thinking time, and some excellent motivation.  It’s so easy to take our bodies for granted.  I had always had a goal of “running a marathon….someday”.  Those two months and my long recovery afterward showed me that “someday” might not happen if I didn’t MAKE it happen. My first marathon was one year to the day after my bike accident.

So now I run because I can; because someday I may not be able to; and because I want to look back and see what I made happen instead of what I let happen.

6) I run because I like my legs

I run because I like the way my legs look when I wear dresses, skirts, running shorts, tights…you name it.  I’m not usually narcissistic, but I work hard for this!

Boston 2009

7)I run because I love the time with friends

Through running, I have met some of the most amazing and unique people in the Boston running community.  I have chatted and cried and pushed through runs with some of the most interesting, entertaining people I’ve met in a long time.  I’ve sorted out relationship problems, life decisions, and shared embarrassing stories during 20 mile journeys and 5 mile jogs.

poster kids for the Harpoon 5 miler (June 2009)

I have been so lucky to have this time to climb outside of my Bowdoin bubble and my teacher talk at least three times a week: Tuesday night track, Thursday night hills, and weekend long runs.  It doesn’t hurt that we all like a cold drink as much as we do a good workout 🙂

So those are seven of the big reasons why I run.  I’ll draw on all of them (and more) throughout my 26 mile jaunt next week, whenever I start to think I can’t do it, or dwell on how much it hurts.  When there are so many positive reasons to run, it really can’t hurt that much, can it?!

Fellow runners: What’s your reason?

Running Down Cancer!

On Friday, April 9th my friend Glen and I are throwing a giant fund raising bash!

When: Friday at 7:30pm

Where: Bleacher Bar, 82 Lansdowne Street in Fenway

Why: We’re trying to raise a collective $12,000 for the Dana Farber Cancer Institute!

How: suggested $20 donation at the door; if you can’t make it, you can still donate here

What: live music by Michael Kingsley, drinks + appetizers, a bar overlooking Fenway Park, and a fantastic opportunity drawing with lots of great prizes!

Prizes include:

gift certificates to Boston Bodyworker Massage, Starbucks gift package, work by local Boston artists, museum passes, gift certificate to Lululemon, movie passes, and more!

We hope you can join us for a fun evening to benefit a great cause.

Countdown to Marathon Monday:  11 days.  yikes.

Nobody told me this would be (emotionally) hard

Well the title isn’t totally accurate.  What it should read is “I forgot that this was going to be emotionally hard”.  In any event…

The Last Long Run is Done!  While 20 miles is always very physically demanding, this 21 miler was more of a mental and emotional feat.  Along the way from Hopkinton to Boston College I shed some tears (my legs cannot really carry me another 5 miles!), there was doubt (maybe I’m not as ready for this marathon as I thought), and there was not much smiling.  I tend to forget how much of marathon training is emotional and mental until I have a run like this.  But I’m glad this happened now: it was a much-needed reminder of the many ups and downs I’ll go through during the race itself.

During the 2008 Chicago Marathon, I was only able to finish the race by repeating to myself “every step is one step closer”.  I must have said that ridiculous phrase about 718 times in my head.  It was a blistering 85 degrees, and all I wanted to do was walk or sit down.  That’s when my heart took over, and led my sorry under-trained body to the finish line.

During the 2009 Boston Marathon, I hit a wall around mile 17–a bit too early, and right in the middle of the biggest hills.  My legs were crumbling, and my stomach felt pukey.  I had been on pace to run a 3:35, but now I dismally thought, “That’s okay, I don’t really like running anyway.  If I don’t qualify for next year, that would actually be a good thing.  No more training.”

But as I topped Heartbreak Hill (at a practically walking pace, mind you), something snapped into focus.  I’d put MONTHS into this marathon.  I’d given up my social life for this marathon.  The pain I was feeling now would be over in 6 miles, but the pride of possibly running a qualifying time in my first Boston Marathon would be incredible.  And so the cheesy “Pain is temporary, pride is forever” became my mantra for miles 19-26.  I blocked out the crowds, I barely saw my family at mile 24, and I zeroed in on that finish line with each step.  In the end, I owe my 3:38 qualifying time NOT to my legs, or my conditioning–but to my emotional and mental strength that carried me down Boylston Street and across that beloved finish line.

Anyway, enjoy a few post-run pictures!

21 miles for Betsy, and 21 miles for Fred!

One of our favorite speedy couples, Noah and Brenda.

We clean up nicely.

Post run party-hopping (after a HUGE brunch and a LONG nap).

26.2 days

I got a nice little email from the BAA today, reminding me that it’s “only 26 days to the Boston Marathon!”  As if I didn’t know.  As if I haven’t been keeping a calendar and following a plan since I started training in December.  As if I am not counting down every day, and every run, between now and April 19th.

It’s always around this time of marathon training that I start to collapse under the pressure.  It seems I am not alone; the “training tireds” have taken hold of many DFMC teammates, as Brenda so aptly calls this phase.  The buildup of many weeks of consecutive mileage increases, the mounting soreness and aches and pains, and the diminishing free time and sleep always get to me with about 4 weeks to go. I lose focus during the day at work.  I am constantly tired despite 8 hours of sleep each night.  I doubt whether I can actually run 26 miles all at once, even though I’ve done it twice before.  And I am always hungry, but nothing looks satisfying.

This week is supposed to be my toughest week yet, with 45+ miles on the training calendar for the second week in a row–including a big 22 miles on Saturday.  But I haven’t run a step since my 18 miler last Saturday.  And now it’s Wednesday.  oops.  To be fair, I did attempt a run today; but my aching legs and dizzy head left me walking, rather embarrassingly, back down Beacon Street towards home.  Instead, I went to buy myself some new running shoes to put the kick back in my step [insert cheeky ‘no pun intended’ here].  Here’s hoping those babies, and a little bit of willpower, can actually carry me through my 22 mile training run this weekend from Hopkinton to Boston College.  Fingers crossed!

In the words of others

I don’t have much to write today.  I had a tough 18 miler on Saturday, during which I felt like I was running on fumes and borrowed legs.  It was not pretty, but I got it done.  So rather than belabor the details, I thought I’d just share some of the best advice I’ve gotten lately from two of my running mentors:

“If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it.”  (Glen)

“Run smart first, tough second, and take your last effective steps across the finish line.  That’s the best one can ever hope for.”  (Coach Jack)

In other news, the bib #s for the marathon have been assigned!  I’ll be in the 10:30am wave on April 19th, sporting bib # 15835 on my front, and a giant “FOR KAREN AND THEO” on my back.

T.H.E.O!

Just a quick fund raising update, and then on to more fun things…..I hit the $2000 mark last week!  Just 5 weeks and $5,000 left to go before Marathon Monday.  Make a difference today: every dollar helps.  www.runDFMC.org/2010/betsyg

I got to spend some time with my buddy Theo again this weekend!  Dana Farber hosted the runners and Patient Partners to design posters for marathon weekend, and to decorate cookies!  Theo greeted me with a present: a bundle of rocks that he had collected from his backyard and painted for me.  “It took a long time,” he told me earnestly.  “And this big one is green, like the Incredible Hulk.”

We spent about an hour designing Theo’s poster for marathon weekend, and the results of our hard work are below.  Theo, by the way, is doing great.  He’s been out of treatment for over a year!  I can’t wait to see him at mile 25 on Marathon Monday!

Theo poses for his official Dana Farber portrait, January

high fives after a bouncy-ball game in January

all smiles after the ice cream sundae bar!

"Betsy, write my name here. T!H!E!O! THEO!"

brother, Theo, and Mom hard at work on Theo's poster

the finished product!

all the runners and kids in the Dana Farber Patient Partner program

every dollar makes a difference…donate today!

[20] pennies in my bank

As many of my teammates know, I HATE running on our course in Waltham.  It’s hilly, it’s repetitive, it’s challenging, and I’ve never had a good run there.  “But it’s beautiful!”  “It’s so quiet!” they always tell me.  Bah.  I still hate it.

But Saturday morning, waking up to bright sunshine and 40+ degrees, I grudgingly drove to Waltham and joined my teammates for the second 20 miler of the season.  As I dragged my feet out the door, well behind my teammates and without a running partner, Jack told me “Betsy: We often like the least what we need the most.” hmm.  Just what I need, some positive encouragement before I’ve had my coffee, or even run a single step.

5 miles into the run, I felt great.  No big deal, that’s usually the case…

10 miles into the run,  I still felt great.  Ok, I could get used to this…

15 miles in the run, with all the big hills out of the way, I felt like I could pick up the pace!

When I finally reached the 20 mile mark, I actually felt like I could keep going–for another 6 miles if I really had to!

It was a fast 20 miles, and an incredible confidence builder with 6 weeks of training left.  As Brenda commented the other day, maybe this zen-running approach really is starting to work?

But the next day’s recovery run?  Not so good.  It was a loping, huffing, and puffing 6 miles along the river.  When I have runs like that, I wish and pray that I won’t see anyone I know.  Otherwise they’ll go around saying “Huh, I thought Betsy was training for a marathon?  How come she can barely jog?”  It amazes me that one day, I can feel fantastic running for 2 hours and 40 minutes, but struggle through a mere hour the next day.  Yes, recovery runs are about the ugliest, worst part of marathon training.  But at least I have all the pennies in the bank from that 20 miler.  I’ll take it that over a good recovery run any day.