Steps. Effin' Steps.

There are few things more terrifying to runner after a race than a flight of stairs. Sore legs, achy backs, aggravated knees, and  blistered feet join forces to make a usually simple motion into a pain fest of annoying proportions. The medal around my neck suddenly felt a lot heavier as I stared at the flight of stairs in front of me.
"Do I really need to go upstairs? Could I live in this hallway?"
"Would it be easier to walk up backwards?"
"Why did I move to the second floor?"
"If I go up there, I'm never coming back down."
"This. is. going. to hurt."
"Ok, quick like a Band-Aid, just go!" 
"Oww! No more quick! No more quick! Slow and steady. One more step."
"Holy crap. Never running again."

I conquered the stairs of pain and was in my second-story sanctuary when I was faced with another runner's nightmare. Little mini steps such as curbs, sidewalks, any elevation change that requires contraction of the demolished quads in my legs. The legs holler, NO MORE! STOP MAKING US DO THINGS!
"My god. Who put the steps in this apartment?"
"Oh sure, the sunken living room was adorable at the time, but now I just have to bend my knees and apply pressure to go to the bathroom!"
"I can just sit here on the couch for the rest of my life. There is no pain on the couch."
"Oh, dear god never running again."

Other things that will strike fear into the heart of post-race runner:
-getting in to the car
-getting out of the car
-sitting down
-standing up

-crossing your legs

-uncrossing your legs

-the first few steps
-heels
-unpacking
-that this pain will never fade
-an empty fridge
-never running again

Defeat at Gasparilla: Running without Respect

In my last post, I was expressing concerns and excitement over the Publix's Gasparilla Distance Classic Michelob Ultra Challenge. I was going to be running a 15K and 5K on Saturday and a half marathon and 8K on Sunday. And attempting to say the entire name of the race correctly, holy brand names! Well, friends. I did not complete the challenge. I got through the 15K and 5K on Saturday.

My legs were a little more sore than I would have liked as I was lining up for the second race on Saturday morning. I heard someone in the corral say that the 5+ 3K was  5 miles. When I thought that a 5 + 3K was 4 miles, it was bearable. But the thought of having to run 5 miles after running 13.1 miles when my legs were tired enough after having only run 15K, was just overwhelming. I decided then and there on the spot that I wasn't going to do the fourth race.

My favorite part of the entire weekend was that I was running the majority of the half marathon with my friend, Kylie. This was her first half and she did so well. She maintained a strong pace and didn't stop once. We were together until around mile 4 when I got a call from Mother Nature. I jumped into the slowest line ever for a porta potty and promised Kylie I'd catch up. I ended up doing a sprint/walk/sprint/walk combo for about the next three or four miles, finally catching her at around mile 6. I  The sprinting wore me out (or the 13 miles the day before) and by mile 11, I just couldn't go anymore. I watched Kylie's white hat and long pony-tail truck forward and was crushed. It was one of my worst runner moments ever. I so wanted to cross that finish line with her. Finding her at the finish line and our sore, slow walk back to the car was one of my best runner moments.



It's been a few weeks and I'm still digesting my defeat at Gasparilla. My  head and heart were never really in any of the races. I was too busy with work, school and social life to have properly trained for ANY distance race. I knew that. I could not rely on the confidence of good training. I expected the ego and hubris of having run so many other half marathons and distance races to carry me for 30 miles. Stretching and hydration, I thought, would be the keys to success. I stretched. I drank loads of water and Gatorade. I ate super well. I did not train.

I said I was doing this four-race challenge because "I needed a win." To be honest, the amount my butt getting kicked to me kicking butt lately has been disproportionate. But I lost. And I needed to lose. I needed to be reminded that just like everything in this world, runnning requires dedication and practice. You can not just think about running. You have to respect the distance and the sport.

 I allowed, or had to allow, life get in the way of running this winter. I had three very challenging graduate classes, an overwhelming amount of work and stress, a new apartment, a new (real) relationship and simply did not have the time, or energy, to properly train. I have to respect my limitations and learn from this experience.

Even though I didn't complete that fourth race and the three races prior weren't my best, I did run 25 miles in one weekend. And that is STILL something to be happy about. Maybe next year, when grad school is done and I've finally unpacked this apartment, I'll train properly and return to Gasparilla for round 3.

I may have lost that battle, but I'm gonna win this war!

Dead Runner Walking

Oh, boy. What have I gotten myself into and why won't I back down? Challenge, my friends, challenge.

I'm blogging (or avoiding doing homework) from the glory that is St. Petersburg, Florida. I'm visiting with my good friend Kylie Matthews and journeying into my potentail runner death this weekend. It's called the Gasparilla Distance Classic and it may be either my worst failure or greatest triumpth.

I'm participating in the Michelob Ultra Gasparilla Challenge. God and my right knee willing, I will run the Publix 15K which is followed by a 5K. That's two races in one morning. I can do that. 15K = 9 miles, 5K=3 miles. SO that's 12(ish) miles in one day. I can do that. I did the 15K last year in 90 minutes and have since beat that time in several other races. I remember crossing the 15K mark of the Diva's Half Marathon at 85minutes.
With time to stretch and rehydrate, another 3 miles isn't so bad. Even with a minimal amount of training I've been able to get in this winter, I'm not worried about tomorrow.

It's Sunday where things are getting scary. Because I'm not sane and because I want a HUGE medal and because I, apparently, love pain, I'll be participating in the second part of the challenge-- a half marathon (#8, whatwhat!) followed by a 5+ 3K.

 

I have no idea what a 5 + 3K is but rumor has it that it's about 4 miles. So, thats 13.1 miles + 4 miles = 17 miles. So, for the math whizzes out there- that is 12 Saturday miles + 17 Sunday miles = 29 miles. In two days. In non-math terms, that's just CRAZY.

I feel unprepared. While I've run seven half marathons and other races, I've never run more than 15 miles. I'm trying to harness the power of positive thinking and tell myself how awesome I am and that I CAN DO THIS! But, I keep flashing to the horror that was the last three miles of the Atlanta Half Marathon.


Does that look like someone who had fun running 13.1 miles? No.

I'm trying to remember the good races like Diva's and Rutgers. I'm trying to give myself credit for having found time to get ANY running in between a nonstop/full time life. I am accepting the fact that THIS IS GOING TO HURT.

Luckily, I'll have a running buddy on Sunday for the first part. Kylie will be running her first half marathon and since my legs are going to be tired from the previous day's 12 miles, I'm running with her as she dominates those 13.1 miles like they're Wendy's Spicy Chicken Sandwhiches. She's going to rock it. She rocked the 15K last year. I'm excited to run with her as she experiences the half marathon distance.


Kylie and I after the 2010 Gasparilla 15K



Going slowly, conserving energy and not burning out are my goals for the half. I worry about the 'runover' and my knees and shins. I worry about puking or passing out or how I'm going to get through this race without my headphones. I worry about dropping and getting the first DNF. Essentailly, I'm worried about failure. I need and I want this win but I have doubts. Is there anything more annoying than self doubt?

I had the option to only register for the half. Or only do the 15K, 5K and Half. But no, I wanted to do the complete challenge. And I will. And it's not gonna be pretty and there is a lot that can go wrong. But a lot can go right. And hopefully, by Sunday afternoon- I'll be watching the Phillies beat the Yankees in a preseaon exhibition game after having run 29 miles in one weekend and having amazed myself in the process.

Go Phils!

Spring Training 2010