The Oregon Marathon

When I started out on the Nike trail last January, I didn't think I would ever run more than a mile.  My first 5k was a big deal for me, and running a 15k a year later was insane.  I never ever ever thought I would run a half marathon.  In fact, even after signing up for the half marathon, I still was in disbelief.  Driving to the start line, I felt completely unprepared.  Yes, I ran 13 miles two weeks before-hand, but in those two weeks since running 13 miles, school had started for the kids and my "taper" to the race seemed more like a halt.  In the week leading up to my race, I ran a total of three miles.  That is hardly the distance you want to cover when you have to run 13.1 at the end of the week.

But there I was, at 6am, in a van with 5 other women, heading to Mt. Angel, Oregon to run my very first half marathon.  I was hoping to finish in 2 1/2 hours.  I figured I would finish in about 2:45.  It was a beautiful day for a run, and an awesome place to run.  The Oktoberfest was in full swing (at least, it would be by the time I finished), and the weather was unseasonably warm and dry for a mid-September weekend.  

When I signed up for the race, I signed up with Moms Run This Town, a nationwide, free running group.  Because we ended up having the biggest team registered, we won VIP status.  What this included was preferential parking, dedicated toilets, and a special VIP tent after the race, with food, juice and iced towels just for us.  Our bibs had VIP emblazoned on them, which made me feel pretty cool and elite, especially since I was probably going to finish after a few marathoners.

Our parking spot was awesome.  We didn't have to walk far to the start line or the bag check (Oh yeah, our bags were to be delivered to the VIP tent.  The peasants had to go ask for theirs at the finish line bag check).  I couldn't find a VIP toilet, though.  I was told that the VIP toilet would be at the finish line. 


I forgot to pack a banana to eat before the race.  I always eat a banana before I go for a long run.  I have no idea why I eat a banana, but it certainly seems to keep me going, so I have no need to change this routine.  I didn't think much about the fact that I had forgotten my banana, because every other race I have ever run has bananas at the starting line.

This one did not.

Yes, I had no banana.

The "900" Corral

Not only that, but I had to poop, and I don't particularly like port-a-potties.  I hopped on a line and waited for a while before I realized that the line of toilets in front of me were all locked.  Except for one.  No wonder there weren't so many people in this line and it wasn't moving quickly.  As I calculated the wait time for the other row of toilets, someone came up and unlocked the rest of the ones in front of me.  I was able to poop in a virgin toilet.  It was amazing.  I forgot to make sure my door was fully locked, and an unassuming runner opened up my door as I was in the middle of a grunt.  I think he was more embarrassed than I was.

Awesome Mother Runners!

A concept in racing that was new to me with this race is that of "corrals."  I had never heard this term before.  What they do is assign your bib number based on your estimated finish time.  You find people who have bib numbers near you, and hang out together at the starting line.  That way, when the race starts, all the people who expect to run the race in an hour and change won't mow down those who will do it in three times the time.

The half marathoners were led to the start-line of the half marathon, about 1/4 mile away.  We lined up on both sides of the street, creating a runner tunnel for the marathoners to run through.  We took photos of ourselves, photos of others, and then photos of the marathoners as they came through.  Then it was our turn.

Crazy Marathoners

 I wore my GoPro, using a "Chesty" mount (yes I kind of bought it because of the name) and set it up to take a photo every second.  I figured I could make a fun little time lapse movie.  I'm still trying to figure out how to make it, so you'll have to be patient with me because I may not get that posted for a while.  In the mean time, here are some photos of the course that were taken by the GoPro.

I was impressed with how well I did for the first half of the race.  I stayed in the 11mm range, even taking a pee break at mile 4.  I felt strong, fast, and very much like I could run all day like this.  I couldn't believe how well I was doing when I hit the 10k mark.  I was on target to finish well before the 2:30 goal, and because my playlist magically alphabetized itself, I was in the middle of a Tom Petty "R" set (who knew he had so many songs that begin with R?). 

Ready...Set...Go!

And then I hit the wall.  At least, I think that's what I hit.  It's something runners say, and since I have a half marathon under my belt, I guess I can safely say that I'm a runner.  Anyway, I ran mile nine with my eyes closed.  Not all of it.  I opened my eyes every now and again to make sure I was still on course and not about to run into someone.  I wracked my brain, trying to figure out why I was feeling so sluggish, and then I remembered.  No banana. 

At 9.3 miles, because I had to at least run as far as my longest race before walking, I walked.  It was only until the end of the song, which may or may not have been Sunday, Bloody Sunday.  I didn't feel bad that I was walking.  Other people were walking.  Some of them had recently passed me.  I planned on passing them back when I was ready to run again. 

Janet and Erin

And I did run again, because I knew that there would be electrolyte drinks at mile 10.  I ran to the aid station and stopped to grab a cup of the orange liquid.  I braced myself, expecting something sweet and syrupy like gatorade.  I was so pleasantly surprised that it tasted more like salt water.  A almost turned back to get a second drink.

Even with the electrolyte drink, my body was pretty much done.  I ran some and walked some for the next mile.  I ran through a covered bridge at some point, and thought that was cool, but mostly, I was calculating how many more miles I had to run, and how long I could walk and keep my pace above 11:30. 

I lost feeling in the toes of my right foot and had tremendous pain in the ball of that foot every time my foot hit the pavement.  I thought that maybe I would be walking through that finish line.  I wondered how long it would take for Janet to catch up, and if she would drag me across.  I considered hanging around for the crew pushing Andie, and hoping in her chair for the last little bit.  All of these options sounded great in my head.

And then, like the happy, motivating angel that she is, Mariah showed up.  Mariah is one of the leaders of my chapter of Moms Run This Town.  She's amazing, super fast, and always so up-beat.  We both ran in the Portland Trail Series this summer, and a couple times she ran me in to the finish line.  It was a giant ego boost to keep up with someone who can sustain a sub 8 minute pace for more than three minutes.

Mariah offers encouragement

"You have a mile and a half to go!" she shouted to me.  I went into self-defense mode and told her about my foot pain - my excuse for being caught walking, and walking slowly.  We gave high fives, she told me I could do it, and since Mariah said so, I started running again.

When I hit the aid station at mile twelve, I couldn't feel my toes and I sucked down the last bit of water in my camelbak.  If I wanted to hydrate, I had to make it to the finish line.

The course made its way back into town.  Little kids stood on the street corners holding signs and cheering us on.  I forgot about my toes, the mileage and my thirst.  I was happy again, and I had less than a mile to the finish line.

As I came up to the high school, I got emotional.  I was on the verge of finishing my very first half marathon.  13.1 miles.  I've hiked this distance many times, but running the distance is so very different.  I suddenly had difficulty breathing.  I was about to step onto the track, not even a full lap left to go, and I couldn't suck in a full lung of air.  'What the hell is wrong with me?' I thought.  I can't pass out here, this is my first half marathon. 

And then the a-ha moment.  This is my first half marathon.  Holy Fucking Shit.  I'm about to finish my first half marathon.  No wonder I can't breathe.  I'm so fucking emotional.

A sight for sore eyes... and feet!

I immediately put the thought out of my head and started thinking about whether or not I could hold my pee (I hadn't gone since mile 8) as I crossed the finish line.  I saw the photographer and pulled myself together for some cool finishing shots, and then I ran as hard and fast as I could to the finish line.  I almost lost it when I heard my name (it's nice that they have that service for these long races), and nearly collapsed when they put the giant medal around my neck.  OMG, that thing weighs about as much as my three year old.  And the best news, I finished in 2:29:04!  56 seconds faster than my goal!

I make it look fun

I didn't see Paul and the kids, so I called.  They weren't at the stadium yet.  They ran out of gas.  My happiness deflated as I had to immediately go into problem solving mode.  But first, I had to go into blame mode and be irritated with my husband for not noticing that the car was on E when he got into it.

I didn't get to fully enjoy the VIP tent because I was no longer in the race.  I was too busy thinking about my husband and kids, stranded on the side of the road, waiting for the tow truck guy or Janet's husband (whoever got there first) to bring him gas.  It took me a while to find my bag, since all the VIP bags were placed haphazardly in the tent.  A woman offered me a towel.  It was warm and dry.  People kept stealing chairs out of our tent.  I wanted to yell "Hey Bitches, we're VIP!  Get your own chairs!"  but I was moping.

I didn't partake in the cold showers like I thought I would.  I got on a bus and went back to the starting area at Oktoberfest.  I found a parking attendant at the lot where we parked to have him guide Paul in.  It was the staff parking area.  I asked him if we could still park in the lot, since it's where the runners parked this morning.

"Sure, as long as he has a yellow tag on his dashboard."

I showed him my bib and said "Well, I'm VIP, so does that work?" 

"I guess so," he replied.

So, while my family wasn't at the finish line with hugs, high fives and flowers, we at least got sweet parking at Oktoberfest.  I didn't last long, though.  After a brat and kraut, I faded fast.  At least we got to watch the glockenspiel (which E called "boring").  The kids ate corn dogs on sticks and we shared a slice of marionberry pie on our walk to the car.

So there it is.  I finished my first half marathon.  And 60 days from now, I'll be running my second.  In Las Vegas.  I won't have the husband and kids to meet me (or to run out of gas on their way to meet me), but I will have my team. 

I've raised $135 so far.  It's a very small amount when looking at what I have left to raise, but I did some calculations, and if I can raise $56/day, I can meet my goal.  I need your help with that.  Please, donate what you can.  Help me get to Vegas!  Donate today!

Cramming the Weekend

This past week was the first week back to school for the kids.  Tuesday was E's first day (and mine) and Wednesday was L's.  Wednesday night we had swim lessons, Thursday evening an ice cream social at E's school, and Friday I had to get up for PT before work (more on that another day, but one thing I have discovered is there is nothing therapeutic about Physical Therapy).

You would think that for such a busy week we'd take it slow for the weekend.  Not when PCT Days is happening in Cascade Locks!  Not only that, I had my first group training run AND a bowling fundraiser to attend.  How was I going to cram it all in?  It seemed impossible, but I was determined.

Saturday morning, I got up and got myself ready to drive down to Road Runner Sports in NW Portland.  I had no idea where I was going, nor did I know what to expect.  I pulled in, walked in the store and saw my coach talking to a parent of a former student.  What the what?!?!?!  I couldn't believe it.  She joined our group run as a guest, and we spent the first two miles catching up and talking about how school is going for her son.  It was nice to have something to do other than listen to music and calculate how much farther I had left to go.  She turned around at the 2 mile mark to make it a four mile run, while I continued a little longer for a 5 mile run.

I didn't turn my music on, so I was alone with my thoughts:

Wow, over two miles and I don't feel the need to wet myself.
I didn't know the Dragon Boat races were this weekend.  I wonder if we can come here Sunday afternoon.
There's one of my teammates coming back.  I hope that means the turn around spot is coming up soon.
There's my coach.  She didn't see me and I put extra energy into smiling.  I hope I don't run out of energy now.
That guy on the bike is an ass.  It's people like him that makes people hate cyclists.  I think I hate him.
Hmm... was it this bridge coming up that has our water station, or the next one?
I don't remember running by Saturday Market on the way down here.  Am I lost? 

Lots of smiles before our run

Oh wait, I do remember running by Saturday Market.
Are those people really thinking they can drag their bikes down those stairs?  Should I tell them there's another way around?  Too late, I'm already past.
I wonder where M is now.  Should I have turned around when she did?  I'm supposed to run 6 miles today.  Should I run more later today or tomorrow? 
Hung Far Low.  Are you kidding me?  How long have I lived in Portland and I have never seen that sign?
Or maybe I have seen that sign and I just don't remember.  How could I not remember?  Am I really getting that old?

And so it went like this until my coach caught up on her bike and we talked and talked until I completely ran out of breath.  And I walked a little bit, which is strange for me because I ran 13 miles not too long ago and didn't walk one step.  But whatever, my pace was 10:36, even with the walking, so I guess I can't complain.

I like my coach, Kimberly Graime.  She feels really familiar to me, and reminds me a lot of my friend Beth.  Maybe her familiarity is what makes me like her.  Or maybe it's the fact that she told me to hold my arms close in to my chest when I run uphill, and it really did make the hill easier.  Either way, I like her, which is very important when training for a half marathon.

Somebody was not too pleased to meet Smokey.

I got home later than I expected, which means we left town later than we expected, but when we arrived at PCT Days, there was a great tent spot waiting for us.  We got to hang out for the night with hiker trash.  The kids became BFF's with another hiker trash kid, and we enjoyed trail magic and merriment, even when Nalgene bottles were raining down on us.

In the morning, we hung around at the ALDHA-West (American Long Distance Hiker's Association) thru-hiker breakfast, watching Freefall flip pancakes and AllGood make coffee.  The kids played, we talked and reminisced, and life slowed down for a few beautiful moments.

She makes bowling in a dress look easy

It was tough to pack up, as any time we're near trail folks, we just want to stay and hang out and do trail folk sort of stuff.  Alas, I had a fundraiser to get to - my first one for Team Challenge.  A bowl-a-thon at Grand Central Bowl.

He has amazing form.  No speed, but amazing form.

I brought the kids in with me while Paul went in search of food since he didn't have breakfast and was ready to eat his own arm.  I met more members of our bigger team, people who are doing walks, other runs, and alumni who have already done or or more Team Challenge runs.  Everyone thought E and L were adorable, which is good, since L was running around like a fool and crawling all over the couches like a monkey.  While I don't know how much we collected altogether, I think it was a successful fundraiser.  I didn't take a picture of the final score for our game because it's embarrassing for me, but I beat my children at least.

Can't even slow down for a picture.

We also were lucky enough to win some prizes in the raffle.  I kind of splurged and bought 20 tickets.  But come on.  It benefits the CCFA, so I kind of had to buy the tickets, right?  I won a cool reusable cup with lid and straw (which E has already decided to claim as her own), and a family pack to bowling night in Hillsboro. 

I typically don't plan so many events in one weekend.  I usually pick one big event and ignore the rest.  For this weekend, hiker trash would have trumped everything else.  But there I was, staring at my training plan, fundraising goals and time left to do it and realized that I needed to make the commitment.  I needed to figure out how to get everything to fit into this super-compact weekend.  I made the running and the fundraising a priority, and I made it to those two events.  I am committed to Team Challenge and the CCFA.  I am committed to Paul, and finding a cure and better life with UC.  I am committed to running and training for this half marathon.  I can do it!

Team Challenge

When I began my running career, I never considered the fact that I would ever train for a half marathon.  But here I am, training for one.  Last week, I ran 13 miles to prove to myself that I can run 13 miles.  I was impressed by how well I did.  I thought my legs might fall off and we had to cancel our plans to go to Sunday Parkways, but I did it.  I ran 13 miles.  And, because I had been thinking about it for a long time, I finally decided to make the commitment to join Team Challenge to run another half marathon in November.

What is Team Challenge?  Team Challenge is the Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation of America’s endurance training and fundraising program. ThroughTeam Challenge, I’ll help find cures for Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis, two painful, seldom-discussed and debilitating digestive diseases. With the Half Marathon and Triathlon Training Programs, I'll train for a rewarding and exciting endurance event while raising vital funds for research into these diseases. These dollars will help make new treatments possible and fuel the search for cures.

This cause is very close to my heart.  Paul was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis six years ago, not long after we started our family.  It has been a hard road, with many more downs than ups.  Until he was diagnosed, we had never heard of this disease.  Since his diagnosis, we have learned that others have this, and other Inflammatory Bowel Diseases that are related.  While it's quite painful and sometimes debilitating, people rarely speak about it.

Through Team Challenge, I will be running the Las Vegas Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon.  My fundraising goal is $3500.  I hope to surpass that goal, and I hope that you will help.  You can read more about our family's story on my fundraising page, like my Facebook page, and follow my blog posts on my training and fundraising here.  I look forward to sharing this experience with you all!

Promises to Keep

In December of 2012, there was a shooting in a local mall and another in an elementary school in Connecticut.  During that time, we listened to NPR a lot.  Perhaps we listened to it a little too much.  My daughter, E, suddenly became obsessed with death, shooting and guns, and began to ask a lot of questions - questions I wasn't quite ready to answer, but because we had exposed her, we had to answer.

We talked a lot about choices people make, sometimes they are not friendly, and they cause a lot of people to get hurt.  We talked about death, and what it means to be dead.  She had some experience with it, since both our cats died in the years after she was born, but it was a little hard for her since she didn't quite remember the cats.  Sure, she saw pictures of them, and pictures of herself as a baby with them, so she knew they had existed, but she didn't quite get the feeling of loss, when something (or someone) you love so much is suddenly gone, and you will never get to see, touch or speak to them again.  She just didn't understand that kind of devastation.

And then one day, out of the blue, she turned to me and said "Mommy, I don't want you to ever get dead!" 

I grabbed her and held on to her as tightly as she held on to me.  She was crying and shaking, and I felt myself doing the same.

"I promise," I said, not knowing exactly how I could keep such a promise, "that I will do everything in my power to keep myself from getting dead."

We held each other a little longer.  I kissed her and stroked her hair.  I inhaled deeply as I sniffed the last little strands of innocence passing away.  My daughter finally figured it out, and realized that I could die.  That I could no longer be there to hold her, pat her back to go to sleep, take the spiders out of the house, cut her meat, or read her Charlotte's Web at bedtime, one chapter at a time.  That was heartbreaking.

In January, I started to make good on my promise.  I decided that I would take a walk on the berm trail around the Nike campus on my lunch breaks.  After all, it's right next door.   I had no idea how long the trail was, nor did I know if it was even legal to walk around it, but that is what I was planning on doing.

It was a sunny day, and unseasonably warm for January.  Come to think of it, it was unseasonably sunny for the Pacific Northwest.  It felt good.  I felt good.  I was beginning my journey to not get dead for my daughter.  I was strong and smart and capable.  As I stepped onto the trail, something came over me.  I can't describe it, nor do I know where it came from.  But what I did was a complete surprise.  What I did, was run.

I am was not a runner.  I ran cross country in high school so I wouldn't get fat, but I was the slowest person on the team.  My coach would always yell at me, telling me to "stop having conversations with the wind!"  I attempted running one day in college, and gave up immediately.  When I moved out to Portland, I tried the couch to 5k program.  I lasted a week.  I didn't like the way my body felt when I ran.  Everything hurt - my joints, my lungs, my feet, my hair - it sucked.

But there I was, running on the Nike trail, and I kind of enjoyed it.  I remembered the last time I ran, and how much I hurt.  My joints didn't seem to hurt the way they did before.  My lungs didn't feel like little knives were stabbing them from the inside.  My feet were happy.  What was this crazy dimension that I had just walked into?  Does Nike pump chemicals into the air so that anyone on campus breathing it in suddenly enjoys hard, physical work?  That had to be it.

I didn't run far, and I didn't run fast.  But I ran.  I ran until the song on my iPod was finished.  Then I walked.  When the next song came on, I decided to run again.  I continued this run/walk combo until I found my way back to the start of the loop trail.  I hadn't planned on it, but that day was the beginning of my journey to be a runner.

I returned to the trail two days later, and two days after that.  In the next few weeks, I was there every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.  I was soon able to run for two songs without stopping to walk.  Then three, and four, and then I was running the entire time.  I couldn't believe it!

I told my friends, my husband and my doctor about this new activity I had taken up.  P was pretty sure the reason I didn't find it painful this time around is because I now have the experience of childbirth, which is the gold standard of comparison to all pain.  My doctor encouraged me to sign up for the Shamrock Run.  It was a 5k - 3.1 miles.  The Nike Berm trail is 1.97 miles.  I just had to run one more mile for the race.  No problem.

The Shamrock Run was a blast.  I wanted to finish in 35 minutes, give or take, and I did.  I felt strong.  I felt accomplished.  I felt that I was not getting dead.  I was keeping my promise.

I found myself signing up for more races, and bettering my time with each one.  My children and husband were always there, my biggest fans, cheering me on.

I signed up for a race on Mother's Day, called Run Like a Mother, which is what I did.  I also wet my pants as soon as I crossed the finish line, in true motherly style.  I packed a change of clothes because I knew that would happen.

I began training for my first 10k, because I felt that it was time to move forward.  I was feeling strong, and I was certain that if I could run 3.1 miles, I could run 6.2.  I was dedicated to my training until my father passed away and I didn't have any desire to run for a while.  I also didn't have any desire to finish reading the Run Like a Mother book I had checked out from the library and hadn't put down for the two days prior to getting the news.  I had three chapters left.  I still have no desire to read it.

My father wasn't the healthiest person.  He was overweight and had heart issues which are what eventually ended his life.  It was sudden and unexpected.  It was preventable.  A few years ago, he lost a lot of weight and was able to get off some of his medication, but lately, he seemed to have put on some weight, and had some issues that he didn't really go into detail about, but they were his reason for not coming down for L's birthday party that spring.

At the Tulip Festival for L's 1st birthday 2012

My dad and I didn't have the best relationship for almost half my life.  I was so mad when he died because I felt that I had lost the best years I would have with him.  I felt robbed, and I was angry at him for not taking better care of himself.  I'm slowly getting through that, embracing and cherishing the time we did have together, because that was spectacular and special.  I've also realized that the best way to memorialize him is to keep my body and heart in good shape.  In the weeks after his death, as we made arrangements, flew down to California and laid him to rest, my daughter's plea played in my mind.  "I don't want you to ever get dead."

I started running again.  I started running while I was still in California.  I signed up for a different 10k.  I signed up for a 5k the week before that.  I trained.  I trained hard.  I was not going to get dead.  I was not going to have a weak heart.  I owed it to my daughter; I owed it to myself; and I owed it to my dad.

I completed the 10k, and got a PR that I have yet to break for the 5k I ran the week before.  This year, instead of running the Shamrock 5k, I ran the Shamrock 15k.  That's 9.3 miles.  NINE POINT THREE.  For someone who, a little over a year before, could run for only 3 1/2 minutes at a time, that's quite an accomplishment.

I love to run!

I ran like a mother again this year.  I was faster than I was last year.  More importantly, I didn't wet my pants.  I continued running after I crossed the finish line and didn't stop until I got to the bathroom, but at least I made it there.

I'm not the fastest runner, nor am I the best runner.  But I'm a runner and I'm not dead.

Mother Runners

Today would have been my dad's 70th birthday.  Had the significance of the date of the race occurred to me, I would have signed up for and run the Rock & Roll 1/2 marathon today.  I'm not sure I would have been able to make it the whole 13 miles without breaking down into a pool of emotion, so maybe that's why the date didn't strike me when people were talking about it.  I knew I had to do something physical and special, though.

Because the next race I have coming up is a trail run in Forest Park on July 16th, I decided to sign up for a free training plan on RunKeeper called "Running 4 Fat Loss."  I chose it for three reasons: 1. It's free; 2. It has speed training in it; and 3. My coworker/running buddy is doing it, too.  Today was the first workout of the plan for me.  I had to run 30 minutes at a steady pace - 70% of my max heart rate, or (since I don't have a heart rate monitor) at a pace where I can carry on a conversation.

I checked every so often to make sure I could talk out loud.  I wasn't winded or panting.  I was breathing in my nose, and had to remember to breathe out my mouth.  I felt amazing.  I felt strong.  I felt like I could run this way for a good long while.  Perhaps I could run a half marathon.  Perhaps I should have run that half marathon.

And then it was decided.  I will run a half marathon.  I don't know when I'll do it, or which one I will run, but I will run one.  I may not run one until this time next year, to commemorate my dad, but I will run one within the next calendar year.  And not only will I run a half marathon some time in the next year, I will run a half marathon when I'm 70 years old.  Because dammit, I wish my dad could have done that. (mental note: talk mom into running a half marathon)

My pace for this steady run was about the same pace I ran my first 5k.  During that first 5k, I was winded.  I was tired.  I wasn't quite sure I was going to make it to the finish.  Today, I was sure I could run that fast (or slow, however you want to look at it) for as long as I needed.  My heart is strong.  It is not going to fail me, seize up, or stop.  It will keep beating with love for my children, my husband and myself.  I will keep my promise and do everything in my power to stay alive for my children.  I know first hand how devastating it is to lose a parent. If I can prevent pain and suffering for my children, I will do it.

Today, and every May 18th, I will run.

For my dad.  

For my children.  

For my heart.  

For me. 

Let's hear it for running!