I did five and was bored. Maybe I’m going through a runner’s depression, but this running without the Eye of the Tiger is lame. It’s weird running with no inspiration, because I turn on my Shuffle which is packed with heart pounding, jaw crushing songs and they suddenly have no impact. They might as well be “Convalescent Home’s Favorite Moog Hits”.
The Marathon is in less than 12 days and I gotta find something to do with my mind to get it plugged into the race. I’m hoping that running with My Beloved will do the trick, and just the general excitement of running with 25,000 snobby, Los Angeles narcissists through the urine-soaked streets of the world’s most shallow-but-broad slab of cement wasteland will be inspiration enough. I don’t know, maybe some guy in a Ron Paul tee shirt will trip and fall right in front of me. That might to the trick.
Now I don’t know how much to run. I don’t really want to risk injury, or burn out. I also hear that for three days I’m supposed to starve all of the carbs out of my body, then pack them back in three days before the race.
I forgot to document the four miles I ran yesterday morning at 5:45am! I didn’t try to go fast or slow, just did a fast run to keep my legs frosty.
I did an easy 10 mile run and should have stopped. But noooOOOooo I had to do 15 miles and slaughter my legs on those last 5 miles. I went paint-balling yesterday and dove into ditches, crawled on my knees and did other stupid things I shouldn’t be doing just before a marathon and I hadn’t fully recovered. My left foot hurt so I limped out the last 2 miles. I could feel my knees knocking around but it didn’t hurt a lot.
After the run, it was time to soak my legs in the cold pool while wolfing down dinner. My Beloved made a meat loaf so I had a giant meat loaf sandwich, potatoes and broccoli that was better than lobster I was so hungry. By the time I finished dinner and slugged down a Mountain Dew (bad decision) I got into the hot tub just as the kids got out… meaning I didn’t have to constantly avoid their cannon balls.
I’ll sleep well tonight.
I’ve had a rough week. I spent Sunday through Thursday in bed with what I first thought was a hard recovery of the Pasadena fiasco. But each night I woke up soaking wet and I lost my appetite. I checked the news for an Airborne AIDS mutation and found nothing.
By Thursday I was so tired that I went to the urgent care to see a doctor. That’s what we Americans do when we need a check-up, we go to the emergency room. And they didn’t carry my crummy insurance so I happily paid out of pocket. I like to still enjoy my freedom in America before this administration disfigures the healthcare world beyond recognition. I got a round of antibiotics and felt better the next day.
Today I only wanted to feel how my legs were doing, so I didn’t want to go too far. I thought I’d do four miles max, and was able to push it a little and go 6.3 miles. My left knee and foot felt a little prickly, so I knew better than to continue.
I’m also working on my pace, trying to jog at a perfect 12.5 minute mile speed to finish the Marathon in under 5:30. I learned I’m really bad with pace, and I’ve even got a Garmin that gives me a second by second read out of my speed. I would look down and see the Garmin read 10:05 or even a 14:30 mile! My next few runs are going to be dedicated to jog at that 12.5 minute mile pace.
I’ll only be doing another 3 or 4 runs over the next week, maybe 10 miles each then hang up the shoes until the big day.
I entered the Pasadena Marathon thinking I could get a long run out of the way and maybe get lucky and finish. Miracles happen every day. Not today.
The Marathon started at 7am and I kept my expectations low, maybe I’d only do the half (13.5 miles) or maybe I’d get up to 18 or 20 miles. But the longer I ran the more I started fantasizing about finishing the race. Wouldn’t My Beloved and the kids be proud?
Everything seemed to be moving along well other than the number of switchbacks that were part of the course. It’s boring to go two miles down a road only to turn around and have to come back up the same road. The worst part is that while heading toward the end of that road, I get to see all of the winner runners hauling buns and looking like real Marathoners. Then as I turn around and head back I see all of the people I’m in front of… it looked like a walking club for the Code Pink Weight Watchers. It made me feel like a leper, not a winner and running a Marathon is very much a psychological game.
I don’t want to come off like a spoiled princess, but having only run the LA Marathon last year the Pasadena Marathon is an unimpressive event. There aren’t enough water stations, whereas the LA Marathon has major sponsors like Gatorade who put up stations every other mile. Pasadena’s looked like it was sponsored by a Tijuana 99 cent store.
There’s nothing like floundering and not being sure what mile you’re at. “Am I at mile 9? Is that why my feet are burning?” Then I pass this tiny, knee high sign on someone’s front yard that says, “Mile 6″. LA Marathon has stations that offer apples and bananas, while Pasadena, which was sponsored by Chico’s Discount Bail Bonds and Pawn Shop set out a box of energy packs at mile 18.
This woman who passed me looked like she was running in her underwear. Another could only be described as thinking she was running the Pasadena Marathong.
I made friends with a personal trainer in the middle of the run and he encouraged me to keep up my pace. I ran with him for about 7 miles but his pace was a 12 minute mile, which is a lot faster than I usually run my 20 mile distances. I don’t know if it tired me out, but whoever planned this marathon with two giant friggen’ hills at mile 19 and 21 had never run a race before. By the time I was done with those hills my legs and endurance was shot.
By mile 19 my toes were cramping up, I’d stop for a few minutes to push my shoe tips up against a curb and then get back to jogging. But as I slowed down to stop, the rest of my leg muscles started locking up. I learned a lot during this “race of don’ts” and among them is to not stop even when nursing a cramp.
Did I mention that I had less that 4 hours sleep last night? I couldn’t fall asleep, probably because of nerves. I also have my lungs-o-liquid problem. I didn’t really notice it until after the hills, but I started getting muscle pain, lower back pain, it felt like the bones in my feet were all out of cushion and pounding the cement and I got a little feverish.
It was a cold day, which is good to keep from overheating, but I was having a problem making myself sweat. I got goosebumps a felt clammy. By the end of mile 22 I was jogging… sideways. Dizzy spells came and went and I started walking on and off. This is the first time I stopped to walk on any run in the last 2 years. That’s something I almost never do.
At mile 23 I didn’t think I could walk the 3.2 miles to the finish line. I sat on a curb for about 5 minutes and everything started locking up. Worst of all, the walkers and obese runners I had no problem staying in front of started passing me, “Are you okay?” It’s a bad sign when people ask how you’re doing, because it usually means you look like a corpse.
I unlaced my shoes and hobbled three blocks to an aid station. This is where the professional medical staff took over and checked my blood pressure, temperature and gave me water. They said I was pretty dizzy and they called in “the van” to take me to the finish line where a bigger medical tent was set up. It was all pretty embarrassing but I figured I had it coming. “Respect the Marathon” came to mind.
My blood pressure was normal but my pulse was fluctuating. Once it stabilized they released me. I went to McDonald’s and got a burger and McNuggets… they gipped me of my hot mustard sauce. Pasadena McDonald’s is probably somehow associated with the Pasadena Marathon.
The worst thing about crapping out of a Marathon is that it put a little doubt in my mind about running the LA Marathon. I kept thinking, “Maybe I should just support My Beloved and not worry about running another one.” Those are the bad voices. Don’t listen to those.
Once I got home, Angie and the kids took good care of me. I took a huge nap and the kids only jumped on my knees and feet a couple of times. The first order of business was to throw the Pasadena Marathon shirt in the trash. If I don’t run the race I don’t get to wear the shirt. Big loss. I’d rather be caught wearing a Mondale/Feraro ‘84 shirt.
So that’s how I ran 23 miles and still felt like a loser. Weird because this is the second to the longest amount I’ve ever run and it was probably my best time for the distance. Things are looking up. My legs are feeling better already and I learned a few hard lessons to keep in mind for the LA Marathon. Most of all, there’s a little voice in my head saying that I can’t do the LA Marathon. That’s a voice I’m looking forward to prove wrong.
