A Run Through Peninsula State Park

When a run is equal parts freedom and nature, with a dash of bagpipes and my own cheering section built in, with perfect weather added on top, how could it be anything but favorite?

This past Saturday was the 2013 Door County Half Marathon, which is run entirely within Peninsula State Park. I love this park, which is on the shore of Green Bay and Lake Michigan. The trails and views and cliffs and shores are breathtaking. Everyone who enjoys running races though big cities can have their crowds and traffic and buildings and dirty air. I will take the woods every time.

After setting a PR in Oshkosh two weeks ago, I decided I’d run this race for fun. No time goal. No pressure. I wanted to feel good and have some gas left in the tank at the end, to enjoy Door County while we were there.

I woke up to sunshine and crisp spring air. The race didn’t start until 10, so I had plenty of time to get ready. I had coffee, ate bacon and eggs, drank water, got dressed, joked around with the family. I took off to catch the shuttle about an hour and a half before the race. I felt great. Relaxed. Energized.

I had a good hour at the park to prep. Seeing the woods and the beaches had me pumped. I was a little cold, but knew I’d warm up eventually. I stretched, listened to some punk rock, and chatted with other racers. What I’d heard about this race: the hills were tough, but it was so beautiful it didn’t matter. I’m thinking: Peninsula got nothin’ on San Francisco.

When it was time to line up, I found the 2:15 pace group. Then I heard the sweet, sweet sound of bagpipes. Yes. Bagpipes. I knew at that moment this was going to be epic.

The horn went off and we walked to the start. I hit the mat and eased into it. We started slow, which was perfect. The first three miles were heading south along the shore. I’m certain I was grinning ear-to-ear the entire time.

The entire course was so beautiful. Evergreens mixed with naked birches. The breaks in the trees where I could see over the bay. The woods, where depressions were still flooded, with green grass peeking up. It was spectacular. I love love love running in the woods.

Random moment: a group of three men ran past us. One of them was wearing a pair of women’s flat sandals instead of shoes. Not VFFs or Merrells. Women’s sandals. Huh.

Around mile 4, my watch started beeping. Low battery. What the hell? I was certain I’d charged it the day before. No, it was dead. It made the decision to not watch my time and pace, and let myself run comfortably, that much easier.

We started heading into the big incline. I was getting warm. I stopped to peel off my arm warmers. I easily caught back up to the pace group. We came up to the next water station and they slowed down to get water and walk. I kept going. I never looked back.

That mile-long incline was…challenging, but not tough. It was just enough to keep me guessing, and pushing. I never hurt. It was one foot in front of the other, and lean into it. Hitting the top was a great feeling.

I knew there was a cheering section at mile 6, and I could hear cowbell and yelling. I turned the corner and realized it was a downhill, which was great. Even better, I heard my sisters-in-law. I knew the family was coming to the park to cheer me on but I didn’t expect to see them that early. Everyone was there, screaming and clapping. Best motivation ever.

The next 4 or 5 miles were rolling hills and curving roads, sun-dappled stands of birch, roadways with trees arching over. With the sun on my face and wind rushing past me, I thought: this is why I run. I never feel more alive than when I am running, or when I am in the woods, and putting the two together makes me feel invincible. Add in my punk rock playlist, and I was on top of the world.

Having the bagpiper around mile 7: even more awesome.

Mile 10 started the descent. I giggled as I went faster and faster. I had to pull back a little – I wanted to have a little gas in the tank for the last 2 flat miles. And I did. I hit the mile 11 marker and surged. I felt so…strong. Alive. Hungry. I was starving, actually. It was past lunch time.

I love getting close to the chute. I love hearing the music and cheering and cowbell. I looked for the family, and there they were on my right, cheering away. My sister-in-law got the most fantastic picture of me running ever. I look so happy and strong.

I practically danced my way across the finish line, arms pumping. And this time, I got my medal.

I completely missed what the time was on the clock. I just knew that the 2:15 group hadn’t passed me. My official time ended up being 2:11:53. Hot damn.

I got water and Gatorade and the best M&M cookie of all time, and headed back to the shuttles. Lunch was a glorious picnic of brats and potato salad and beer, soaking in the sun.

And then, dinner.

The family is already talking about going back next year. My sister-in-law and her soon-to-be-husband want to do the half, and my mother-in-law and other sister-in-law want to run the 5K. This makes my heart happy.

For now, I’m ready to take it easy for a couple of weeks before…marathon training begins.

Race Recap: Oshkosh Half Marathon 2013

Two years ago, I ran the Oshkosh Half as my first half marathon. I was bib 84. I woke up to 35° and pouring rain, and had one of the most miserable runs of my life. But I did it.

Today, I ran the Oshkosh Half as my fourth half marathon. I was bib 85. I woke up to 32° and the threat of rain. I hoped to not have a miserable run.

Goal: run this half in under 2:10. (Previous PR: 2:16:57.) I’ve been training – hard. That’s an understatement. Intervals. Spin classes. Yoga classes. Long runs which I forced myself to maintain sub-10:00/mile paces on.  Oshkosh is easy. It’s a flat town. I know all the roads. I run most of the race route on a regular basis. The biggest variable: weather. When the wind picks up, it’s hard to run. When it’s cold, it’s hard to run. When the trails along the river are two inches of mud, it’s hard to run.

Last night was a perfect pre-race night. I made a huge batch of spaghetti sauce (fresh tomatoes!), meatballs, and garlic bread topped with mozzarella and broiled. It was so good. After dinner, I got comfy on the couch and watched The Goonies – it’s tradition!

Today I was up at 5:30 am. I had everything laid out downstairs, from my clothes to my oatmeal. I had a bottle of water, my oatmeal, and a cup of coffee. I remembered, five minutes before walking out the door, to pin my bib on my shirt. I debated grabbing my light running jacket and decided against it. Was that a mistake? I still haven’t decided.

I got downtown and parked 35 minutes before the race start. It was cold. I was parked half a block from the start. Did I sit in my car with the heat and seat warmer on for 20 minutes? Yes, I did, and it was wonderful. When I walked to the start, I found the 2:10 pace group and lined up with them. I figured I could pace myself with them for the first mile or so and see how it went. The pre-race festivities were a little different than normal. Several runners who had been at the Boston Marathon this week gave speeches, and then we all sang the national anthem together. (If you can call what I did “singing”. That might be a stretch.) Starting a race is already emotional; that nearly had me in tears.

The horn went off, and the 2,700 runners started forward. As I was trying to find a spot in the crowd, I spotted my old friend Jeremy just ahead of me. I ran up to him and said hi. He asked how fast I was planning to run. I said 2:05 to 2:10. He said he was doing the same and he’d run with me. And that was that.

Jeremy and I were in the Jaycees together for years. We’ve run together before. We talked about work, family, houses, Jaycees, airplanes, running, and a hundred other things. Before I knew it, 5 miles were gone. Gone! I hardly remember the scenery.

At that point we were running down the trail by the river. I was expecting it to be a muddy mess like it was two years ago, but it was surprisingly dry. That boosted my confidence. We were right on pace, right where I wanted to be. As we saw the first bridge come into sight, we passed the pace group and took off.

Once we hit the bridge, running south, we hit The Wind. It was tough. And cold. We had a 2-mile loop to the west, but after that it was a couple more miles straight into the wind. We pushed on. Hard. I was not going to let a little wind slow the pace. We ran into South Park and I picked it up a bit – the winding path made it easier.

Then we hit 10 miles and I hit a Wall. A WALL! I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Having Jeremy’s family show up on the route for the fifth time, while I had no one, was a bit tough. But there was only a 5K left. Jeremy pushed me. He kept telling me not to drop the pace. A couple good songs came on my playlist. I looked at my watch and realized I still had it in me to make my goal.

I think the second best moment of this race was when I turned the corner of 18th to go east. The wind died down, there were a lot more spectators, and I could see the lake ahead of me. It was a cold, crisp morning where I could see all the way across the lake, and imagine High Cliff. I pushed on.

Mile 11. Jeremy ran ahead. I kept my pace.

Mile 12 marker. I was down to a 10:05. I was hurting. I told myself, “It can hurt tomorrow”, and I pushed on.

The Main St. bridge was in sight. Yes, a bridge with less than half a mile to go. Up and away. Push into it. It barely hurts at this point. I go down and turn right, along the river and to the chute. People were screaming. There was a woman dressed as a fairy godmother yelling…wait, did I just see a woman dressed as the fairy godmother, or did I run too hard and start hallucinating? I see the finish strip. I see the clock. I push it push it push.

The husband said I looked pissed off as I was finishing. I call this face “FOCUS”.

I cross. I stop my watch. I am at 2:09:10. I did it. I did it. I did it.

I step forward to get my medal and I was told they were gone. GONE. They RAN OUT OF MEDALS. I was not happy. I love getting a picture with my medal, right after the race, with That Face. The one that says, “I did it.” I won’t get that photo, even with this PR. Not fair.

To finish the morning, we had lunch at Red Robin. Hello, burger, you look delicious.

And now, a week of rest, then a run in Fargo with friends, then the Door County Half Marathon. I love running season.

 

Oshkosh Half 2013: Week 10

The race is days away. I can smell it. I can feel it.

Monday I did my strength training. OK, no, I didn’t. I halfheartedly attempted one set of each exercise and gave up. The dark, cold, damp basement was not working for me. I ran 3 miles with Jack Jack to make up for that, and it was great.

Wednesday I cranked out a 5 mile run before work. Awesome. It’s feeling like spring.

Thursday I was supposed to run 45 minutes, at tempo. That was not going to happen. I was so stressed about the upcoming weekend, trying to finish tasks, I didn’t want to run. I made myself go for 3 miles in the afternoon. Jack Jack and I ran fast. It was a good mental break. 3 miles is better than 0, always.

I tweeted that I had no desire or motivation to run 13 miles the next day. I didn’t want to. I was tired. I was stressed. I was sure the long run was going to end after 5 miles with me on the side of the road, puking or passed out. Thursday night, I had spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner. I went to bed at a reasonable time.

Friday morning arrived. Long Run Day. I woke up on time, had a cup of coffee, a bottle of water, and an energy bar. Oddly enough, I was feeling good. Relaxed. Energized. It wasn’t quite 40 degrees  but I put on capris and light long sleeve shirt and headed out with Jack Jack. He ran the first 3 miles with me, and we set a nice pace. I dropped him off at home, grabbed my water bottle, and set out for the other 10.

It was one of those runs where everything was in sync. It was one of my best runs physically, mentally, and technically. I ran out to the lake and back. I was running into the wind on the way out, which is fine; I had it at my back on the way home. I had a steady pace. Nothing hurt. I was hydrated. I wasn’t hungry at any point. It was just a good, solid run.

The last mile dragged a little. I haven’t run 13 miles since November. But I did it. I looked at my watch. 2:09-something. Shut the front door. My half PR is 2:16-something. You’re telling me I cut 7 minutes off in 5 months? I’ve been working my ass off. You bet I have.

Saturday was my conference. I feel like I walked 5 miles, but no run. Sunday, I was too exhausted to do anything. So I didn’t.

Two weeks left.

Oshkosh Half 2013: Week 9

SPRING. It’s almost arrived. Finally!

I made myself run outside all week. It was wet and messy, but I did it. And by Sunday, it was great.

Monday I did my strength training, then headed out on a 2-mile run. Every week before this I tried to run, then do strength. I was miserable those weeks; I enjoyed this week. Lesson learned.

Wednesday I went to spin class at the Y. People had asked, “Have you ever been to one of Chad’s classes?”, like it was both amazing and horrible, and I’d say no. Well, no more. Chad was the instructor, and I was dripping sweat and panting and now I know what Erin means when she says she loves spin because she doesn’t think of anything else. I couldn’t. It was fantastic.

Thursday was intervals. I used to hate intervals. Intervals are hard. Hard, hard, hard. But I went out and ran half a mile, then did 9 x 400′s, with a pace of 9:00-9:15, and resting was 9:45-10:00. The first five were great. The next two were hard. The last two, I was focused on not stopping and laying down on the sidewalk to die. I did not, and I felt awesome about an hour after.

Friday was an unexpected – and very welcome – rest day.

Saturday was yoga. It was an excellent class. The first low lunge on the right side was really uncomfortable at first. Then, out of nowhere, POP, go my hips and lower back. It all cracked and I was so surprised I fell over. Once that was out of the way, things were much easier. I want to know what the secret is to hamstrings that aren’t as tight as guitar strings every week. I suspect it’s something like, “Less running.”

Sunday was my long-ish run – it’s a step-down week – only eight miles. I needed something different, so Justin drove me south, down the lake, and dropped me off. It was fantastic. I wish it had been a little warmer, but I was in capris anyway. There were robins everywhere, which struck me as funny, because the day before I had been mad I hadn’t seen any yet this spring. There was also a field with fix sandhill cranes strutting around, calling. They are so loud up close it’s surprising. I ran the six miles home, picked up Jack, and ran two more. I came in at about 78 minutes – so I maintained my sub-10:00 pace. I’m happy with that.

This week is going to be hard. I have a user group meeting, a user group presentation, and I’ll be out of town this weekend for a conference. But…when it’s important, you make time. I’ll be doing my long run on Friday. And, coincidentally, napping before heading to Madison that day.

Oshkosh Half Marathon 2013 Training: Week…8?

I wasn’t going to document this half marathon training. I have too many other things to do. No one wants to read about the bad days, the blisters, or even my SQUEEEing when I manage a fast run.

But I started re-reading past training blogs to remember how I felt in March two years ago, and if I normally crash around week 6. In short: I was tired, and yes. If I don’t record training for my own posterity, I won’t remember this giant blister I have on my right second toe, or the horrible fall that left my elbow bruised for three weeks, or the first time I ever managed a 10 mile run maintaining a sub-10:00/mile pace the entire way.

[The internet: like a diary that I allow other people to read. Weird.]

To recap: I’m signed up for two races – the Oshkosh Half on April 21 and the Door County Half on May 4. Goal: to be fast. Well, fast for me. I don’t understand how, after three half marathons in two years, my times are all within two minutes of each other.

As I once read on Twitter, “In order to run faster, you have to run faster.” So I’ve been running faster. Kind of. I chose Hal Higdon’s intermediate half plan. I was doing really good in January, and even part of February, when I could run outside. But then the snow/ice/cold/snowandice set in. I’ve had three nasty falls on ice this winter. So I retreated inside, to the treadmill – where a 10:00/mile pace feels like WORK. How can I run 9:15 outside, but almost die at 9:45 on a treadmill? What laws of physics govern this? I want to run laps on a track, but it’s still buried under snow and ice.

Winter: get the fuck out of here. [For posterity: this winter has been brutal - over 60" of snow total. It's the end of March, there is still a foot of snow in my yard, there are still five-foot-high snowbanks, and we haven't seen a 40 degree day yet.]

I need to get back to running outside. I did, yesterday and today, and I feel slow again. It’s disappointing.

Then the travel. I was in WA for five days, and ran with friends. Oh, hills. I was in Mexico for 8 days and ran on a lot of sand. And hills. I never realized how much I could miss a crushed gravel trail, or even pavement. It’s hard to keep a schedule when traveling, but I stayed pretty close. I think I only missed one day out of both of those weeks.

But…Mexico. I ran 8 miles through the desert, along the coast of the Pacific. It was breathtaking. There was an angry chihuahua. There were surfers. There were cacti. I ended it by taking off my watch, phones, shoes, and socks and wading into the ocean. Bliss.

Mexico

Other than that, I’ve only missed one other day – last Friday. My left knee had been getting wonky after two weeks on the treadmill. Last Thursday, after intervals, my entire leg hurt – it felt like a rock. I woke up Friday and knew I couldn’t run without hurting myself. So, I didn’t. I had coffee and read the news and walked the dog, and I was fine.

I’ve been doing strength training regularly. It’s very light, body-weight-only training. This summer, for marathon training, I need to have a few sessions with a personal trainer at the Y and get a better plan. I’ve also been going to yoga every week. I have fallen in love. It’s somewhere between a strength workout and the best stretching ever.

I’m rambling. This is why I should have been keeping track all along.

It all adds up to the long runs, though. That’s what I’m doing this for. Last weekend was 10 miles, and yesterday was 11. I want to run all of these at a sub-10:00 pace. For me, this is fast. This is also hard. It feels like work. There is no relaxing on these runs. My mind can’t wander. I have to focus, focus, focus. I worry about my breathing, my steps, and my hydration. I’ve decided I’m going to bust ass during the Oshkosh Half, and relax for the Door County Half. I’ve run all around Oshkosh and it won’t be new and exciting, but I’ll want to soak up every inch of Door County.

Maybe, in the long run, I am resetting myself and a sub-10:00 run will be normal. I hope so.

Tomorrow: rest day. I need it.

Why I Run (v 3.0)

I do not have to run. Perhaps a deep, distant, primordial part of me would disagree with that. But my 21st century lifestyle, complete with a gasoline-powered vehicle to get across town or the state, and airplanes to jet me across the country, means I do not have to run for protection or to shelter or after food. 

But, this post is not about reasons not to run. It is about what drives me to lace up my shoes and leave my house in the morning.

you’d never guess it’s hard, with runs like this.

Running is difficult. Physically, it can hurt. Mentally, it can be hard. Emotionally, it can tear me apart.

I have run the same roads over, and over, and over again for three and a half years. I can give you one-mile, two-mile, five-mile, eight-mile, and ten-mile routes, starting and ending at my front door, in any direction. I know every school, gas station, store, and park in a two-mile radius. I know the bridges and the crosswalks and the nature trails.

You would think this would be boring.

It is not.

I run because it is infinitely interesting. 

People move in and out of apartments. Houses are sold and bought and sold again. Businesses open, then close. “Leroy’s Bar, Hot Sandwiches All The Time. Open 6:00 am” has at least one old man sitting at the bar at 6:15 am, every morning of every week. Kids are walking to school in sweaters, then jackets and hats and mittens, then t-shirts, then not at all. 

But that is only the beginning. That is the superficial makeup covering the real beauty.

This morning, when I left the house, it was dark and cold. It never got warmer, but the sun rose. I witnessed a blaze of orange, crimson, and yellow blossoming across a slowly-lightening sky, reflected in a the steel-blue river. It was fascinating.

There are so many moments like this, I cannot recount them all.

adventure: running on the Pacific Ocean beach, San Diego, November 2011

Last week, as I ran along in front of the retirement community, I looked up in the small trees and noticed the nuts the squirrels have stored there. Soon, the squirrels will be out every morning, chattering, running, playing again. They will be scrawny, but as the months go on, as summer wanes into fall, they will get fat and slow. As the cold creeps in, a sense of urgency overcomes them, and they race about and fight over the last acorns.

One morning last fall, I had a four-mile run to complete. I was just starting to run with Jack, so I took him for two, dropped him off, and took the same loop again. As I approached the house that is nestled among pine trees, overlooking the creek, I stopped. There was a whitetail doe, peaceful, standing. In town! She looked at me, turned, and walked away. I haven’t seen her since; but I keep looking.

I run to the lake and back; a long route, my favorite route. It is 5 miles from my door to the point, to one of my Places. The land changes. The lake changes. In spring, the dead shad pile up on the shore. Last spring was the worst I’ve seen it; yet in two weeks they were all gone. Rotted or eaten by seagulls or pulled back into the lake; gone. In winter, I wait for the wind to drive the sheets of ice into piles on the shore; massive blocks of ice piled up higher than me. In summer, I try to avoid the lakeflies; the bane of lake existence.

my lake, on my birthday, 2012

Trees are planted and grow. In storms, branches fall, trees fall. (I’ve pulled more than one out of the road, so drivers are safe.) The river overflows its banks in the spring, and last summer it dipped farther down the rocks than I had ever seen it before. I watch ducks, seagulls, geese, and pelicans land, take off, eat, and fight. A mother duck leads her ducklings along one month; the next, they are in the river under her watchful eye from shore; then they are gone.

See, running connects me to the earth in a way very few things can.

The earth is infinitely changing.

It is infinitely interesting. Running on it is infinitely interesting.

31 Days

After Thanksgiving, a few friends and I decided we would challenge ourselves to exercise for at least 15 minutes every day during the month of December. It’s a spin on the run streak, but I didn’t like that last year – it was too repetitive and tiring.

So, every day for 31 days, I did something active. This was immensely good for me. I didn’t gain any weight, despite the best intentions of all the cookie elves, beer brewers, and ham chefs in the world. I felt energetic, which is always hard this time of year when it’s dark and cold. I also tried some new stuff!

I ran 21 days for a total of 61.17 miles. I went to 6 spin classes. I went snowshoeing twice. I went to a Crossfit-like class at the Y, Muscle Conditioning, which made me feel like a complete wimp and sore for two days. Best of all, I started taking yoga classes at the Y on Saturday – and I love it.

Jack Jack loves snowshowing

Only two days did I do the minimum 15 minutes. One was during a huge snowstorm, and I wasn’t motivated to get out and run, or run on the dreadmill, or attempt to drive to the Y. That was a snowshoe day. The other day was Christmas Day. I was stuffed with ham from Christmas Eve, homemade cinnamon rolls, and my mother-in-law’s Chex Mix. I spent a good four hours on the couch watching my present – season 1 of Game of Thrones. I wasn’t feeling energetic, but I hauled my ass down to the dreadmill for a couple miles.

And then, this morning, to celebrate, I went to my massage therapist for an hour-long sports massage.

Now that’s the way to end a year.

Turkey Trot 2012

I ran my first race with Jack yesterday. We took on the 5 mile Turkey Trot.

Official time: 46:39. Average pace 9:20. For me: FAST.

Splits:
9:31
9:32
9:33
9:12
8:51

Had you told me a year ago I’d run the last mile of a race in under 9:00, I would have laughed. But…I did.

I believe…in the power of interval training, and how long runs can make short runs faster.

Now, let’s talk about that 5K PR.

Race Recap: US Half Marathon San Francisco 2012

Half marathon number three is in the books! It was not the easiest road to get to this one. A month ago, I was convinced I wouldn’t be able to run it (and was ready to give up). I didn’t, and I’m glad.

Because on Sunday, November 4, 2012, I got to run across the Golden Gate Bridge.

The day before, I packed up the car entirely too early and flew to San Francisco to meet Erin. After getting to the hotel, we met Rob and went out for lunch on Fisherman’s Wharf – a crab cake sandwich, of course! We walked around a bit, then met up with Yanni and her husband John (who drove FOURTEEN hours to join us). The real treat that night was dinner at Fleur de Lys, an experience I won’t forget. Especially dessert.

Sunday morning, we woke up at 5:30 am – perfect. I ate a Clif bar, drank a bottle of water, and sipped on a little coffee. It was warmer than I thought it would be, but stuck with my plan to wear long sleeves and capris – I heard running across The Bridge was always cold and windy. We walked down to the race start, checked our bags, turned on our RunMeters, hugged John, hugged each other, and got ready to run.

I would get to run across this

The first quarter mile-ish: uphill. It’s San Fran, right? But where I’m from, there are no hills for miles and miles. By the time I got to the top, I knew this would be hard. The first three miles were relatively easy. I ran 9:29, 9:40, and 9:37 splits. We ran past Marina Green Park and Crissy Fields, with San Francisco Bay and Alcatraz to our right. The sun was out; it was a perfect day.

Then the hills started. At mile 2.5, my elevation was 7 feet. At 3.25, it was 100 feet. At 3.75, it was 140 feet. At 4.75, it was 173 feet. At least the hills were fun to run up and down – we were in a park area, with trees arching over the road and the smell of fresh rain in the air.

Suddenly, I was at the base of the bridge, and had to run out and back. The bridge was almost perfect. I had expected cold wind to fight against, but maybe I got a good day to run it. The sparkling blue water was below me, Alcatraz was off to the right among the ships, and I was running towards the gorgeous Golden Gate Recreation Area. The downside was that the bridge was not closed to traffic (because no race rates that high), and it was really unnerving to have THAT MANY cars, trucks, and semis rattling past for over a mile. At the peak, mile 6.5, the elevation was 245 feet. I have now climbed 238 feet in an hour. My hips were starting to burn, just a little.

We had to turn around, which involved running under the bridge – and back up! The trail down was gravel and steep. There was one point I thought, “I’m going to die. I’m going to slide right off this, and into the Bay.” I did not. I did look up long enough to get a glimpse of the downtown skyline across the Bay – it was pretty cool. Then I had to run back up. And ow. The steep hill back up to the bridge had half the people walking – me included. I was trying to get my legs to eek it out, plus take off the long sleeve shirt. I was sweating pretty good at this point.

There was another slow, gradual climb to the peak of the bridge, then back down. I looked off at the ocean, and at San Francisco. The views were nothing short of stunning during this race.

We wound our way up and down, through more hills, for two more miles. I was still feeling strong. I’d maintained a 10:00-11:00 pace the entire bridge stretch, which was really good. I ran down the gentle second-to-last hill, hit the 10 mile mark, and wanted to push really hard to finish.

The last three miles were along the waterfront. It was beautiful to run along the shore, listening to the waves crash, and watch people walk and kids play. It was also the first flat stretch, and OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LEGS? I tried not to think about the fact that since my marathon at the beginning of May I’d only run 10 miles twice, but I couldn’t help it. MY EVERYTHING HURT. The balls of my feet hurt (I need new shoes). My ankles were sore. Calves were burning. Knees were aching. My quads were on fire. My hips wanted to stop supporting me. Without hills to challenge me, I started running out of steam. The last three miles were 10:42, 11:08, and 11:50.

I knew the end was easy. It was up another hill, down, and then coast in. That last hill kicked my ass. Completely. It was about 80 feet up over less than half a mile, but it felt like 800 feet. Then: the downhill. It killed my quads. But I threw my hands up and yelled “WHEEEEEEEEE!” as I coasted down. One guy walking the other way laughed and yelled, “Is it a roller coaster?” I yelled back, “Feels like it!” And then I saw the finish line.

And I realized I was going to set a new PR, and a month ago I didn’t think I’d be running, and secret: I CRIED. Yep. The last tenth of a mile I was trying not to have a complete meltdown. Crossing that finish line – in 2:16:57 – was so sweet.

I got my medal. (Serious. Hardware.) I found water. I found Erin. We grabbed our bags from bag check. We sat down to change shirts and put on compression sleeves and…I lost it. I started bawling. That was so emotional. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else there by my side, either.

Then we found my favorite – the beer tent – and grabbed a cold one while waiting for Yanni and Rob.

beer! medal! huge grin! one of my favoritest pictures ever.

We cheered Yanni and Rob across the finish, and had a big sweaty group hug. The afternoon was napping, stretching, my first In-n-Out Burger, and a beer.

THAT was an adventure.

San Francisco, I’m Coming For You

Two weeks from right now, I’ll have crossed the finish line of my third half marathon. My third. Hard to believe it will be just three years after my first 5K.

I’m running the US Half Marathon in San Francisco with friends. San Fran. I get to run across the Golden Gate bridge and back. It’s going to be an epic race weekend.

I had plans for this race. I had a goal: speed. I was going to push and push and push, and make 2:10 or less. That would require 13.1 miles of sub-10:00 miles, up and down the hills. I was going to do it. I was running intervals, and tempo, and sprints.

And then, one Wednesday morning, three weeks ago, I woke up and could barely walk. I limped down the steps. My foot was sore and my ankle was raging. My ankle, knee, and hip had been sore for a couple weeks, but I didn’t expect this. I decided to listen to my body and not run that morning. I called my chiropractor and asked for an appointment; I was able to get in that day.

Diagnosis: my arch fell. Too much high-impact work. He told me, “No running.” I said, “No.” He said, “Yes. If you want to run this race, no running.”

Heart. Broken. I was angry for a few days, and lost. I really didn’t know what to do without running. I tried walking, but that wasn’t enough. I tried cycling, but don’t like riding the bike early in the morning, in the dark. I went to the chiropractor every 3 days, and he pushed on my foot (I cried a couple times), twisted my ankle, yanked my hip, and and adjusted my back. Every time I would ask, “Can I run now?” Every time he would say, “Not yet.”

I couldn’t handle a lack of exercise. I decided to get over my dislike of gyms and go to the YMCA for a spin class. I loved the Y and the class. I went a couple more times on day passes, and finally joined. This will be good for me, I know it will. I’ve already met more runners. I can cycle, run, swim, yoga, and climb on the rock wall.

Listening to the doctor paid off. I woke up Thursday with no pain. NO PAIN. I almost thought something was wrong. I went to spin class. On Friday, there was still no pain. I went to the chiropractor, and this time, when I asked if I could run, he said, “Yes, but keep it light. 3-5 miles.”

I didn’t do a happy dance right then and there. I waited until I was in my car.

This morning, I headed out for an easy 3-mile run. It was beautiful. My shins and calves were a bit sore, and the ball of my foot was a little tender, but I did it.

So I have two weeks to prep for running 13 miles, and the last time I ran double-digit miles was July. Oi.

I’m not going to be mad at myself or the doctor if I don’t PR. I will be happy that my body can take me 13.1 miles. I will enjoy a fun run in a new city with spectacular views. I will love that I can still run.