DNF

DNF—something no runner wants on his/her record. Did Not Finish. It’s one thing to start a workout and decide not to finish because of injury, etc., but when you don’t finish a race you’ve been training for, that’s embarrassing. Not only do you receive unwanted sympathy (“there will be other races,” and “at least you made it this far! [thumbs up]”), but those three excruciating letters go online for the whole world to see, assuming EVERYONE wants to know how you did.

I’m not sure my experience today was as humbling as it was supposed to be, but I sure lost some pride. The 2013 Dallas Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon gets to claim my first (and hopefully last) DNF. Sadly enough, quitting half way through the race was not my biggest challenge. Besides trying to trudge through the pain (recurring injury), I mostly struggled with worthless pride. My ego struggled with the fact that I could easily walk across the finish line; I simply didn’t care to if I couldn’t PR (set a personal record).  

Furthermore, I had to wait at a med station on the side of the course for a saddle wagon to retrieve my sorry self, icing my injury, watching other runners continue on, listening to empty words of encouragement from people who assumed I was a beginner (which hurt my pride the most), and then walked across the course, without so much as a limp, to a man dressed in a long black pea-coat with a walkie-talkie who drove me and one other runner to the finish line. 

Pride

On a lighter note, the course was enjoyable. Various bands were stationed along the course, and my friends and I started the race at a decent pace. Starting in Corral One meant no need to dodge walkers or dogs or joggers and being exhausted by mile three as a result. 

I am moving on to the next goal: improving speed. I know I said this was the next goal after the marathon, but the half changed my plans. If you know of any good 5ks this summer, feel free to comment below. 

Time to make some different muscles hurt!

Tough Questions

The White Gazelle asked me what my favorite running memory is--but how do I answer that?
That's like asking someone what his/her favorite song is; there are too many to choose from, too many genres, generations, voices, topics, etc. I've been running for a decade and have acquired hundreds of pleasant memories.

Seventh grade introduced me to running.
Eighth grade is when I fell in love with it.
Ninth grade brought me my first injury, which I overcame and advanced to the varsity level.
Tenth grade introduced me to The White Gazelle.
I met my first burn-out in eleventh.
I peaked and accomplished my proudest moment in twelfth.
Freshman year of college, running saved my life (figuratively speaking).
I began developing my friendship with teammate Kat Grillo my sophomore year.
Junior year, my relationship with the sport was tested, and running and I decided to just be friends.
This year I have spent eighteen weeks training for a marathon with a great friend, one of my favorite accomplishments, and have found someone else with whom I can share my passion.

These are only the most prominent major events that came with a lifestyle that seems to have chosen me, not the other way around. But never fear, more running experiences will be shared in the near future; for instance, I love to tell the Snot-Rocket Story. But I'll let you wonder about that one a little bit.


Shayna asked me about my favorite part of the Disney Marathon I ran with Kat in January. That's a tough question, too. If you're asking about the entire marathon experience, I can honestly say that I've never enjoyed training for any race more than I enjoyed training for my first 26.2. As for the race itself, I suppose my favorite part was running through Magic Kingdom. We reached the park around sunrise, passed the castle, and were suddenly surrounded by Disney characters, scenes from movies, spectators cheering for us as if they knew us, and, of course, serenaded with Disney songs.

I really enjoy the comments and questions. Keep them coming, especially since I've struggled to maintain the motivation to put my thoughts down on paper, or a screen...

Rock 'n' Roll half marathon this Sunday in Dallas! Wish us well.

FIRST MARATHON!!!!!!

Mickey Mouse
Donald Duck
Goofy
Genie
Mulan
Mushu
The Fairy God Mother
Prince Charming
Sulley and Mike
Scar
Pirates of the Caribbean
Jiminy Cricket
Lumiere
Lightning McQueen and Mater
The Chipmunks
Tinker Bell
Rafiki
Wreck It Ralph
Tigger

And these are just the ones I recall...

My first marathon was painful, but it's over. The day after was painful too, but that's over. Disney's Marathon Weekend is difficult to sum up in a few words--but I'll try: the largest expo I've experienced took place at Walt Disney's Wide World of Sports Complex. Kat and I sampled our first-ever gel/goo (an energy boost that would later aid one of us and not the other), and we fell in love with Cabot Cheese, making a second round just to sneak another sample.

After an adventurous four-mile walk, bedtime came at 8p.m. We awoke at 2:30 a.m. to begin our magical day. At 6:10 a.m., fireworks signaled our starting corral's start. For miles, we just enjoyed the cool breeze, characters along the course, and people-watching (there were a lot of people to watch). After the sun came up, I hit my ever-infuriating wall, but I stuck with Kat, knowing she would neither leave me behind nor let me give in just yet.

Half way to the finish meant I was thinking, " Holy @#$% we have to do all that again." But then it got easier, and easier, for me anyway. I say that because Kat hit her wall around mile fourteen. She trudged through until what we feared would happen happened. One thing athletes, especially runners in my opinion, have to take into consideration is climate change. Whether from one season to the next or one state to another, Climate has the authority to say, "I don't care that you trained for eighteen weeks. Here's a cup of dehydration, light-headedness, and, oh yes, an upset stomach. Enjoy." We knew this was a possibility from the start, but how could we have trained for it? We live in the center of Texas on college student budgets. We had to take our chances. So we walked for a bit. After about sixteen and a half miles, the rest of our run can be summed up as walking/jogging intervals, until we were both in enough pain that walking was more than acceptable.  But we crossed the finish line, hand in hand. BOOM!

Were we a little disappointed? Of course. But humility is an anchor. So we reminded ourselves that this was never really about the run--it was about the experience, which was awesome and something never to be forgotten. We can run 26.2 miles anytime in our own hometowns, or college town, or wherever. In fact, that is exactly what we have added to our agenda. In a few short weeks, we'll join another running buddy for a chance to redeem ourselves. Two weeks later, we'll cheer him on, from the sidelines, with hot chocolate and a delicious breakfast, as he conquers 32+ miles. Sucker.



Leave comments! Ask Questions! I've been less motivated to write in the past couple of months, and I always appreciate your input and encouragement anyway.

Once Upon a Midnight Run

Once upon a midnight run,
a story began to unfold.
I saw a leprechaun waddling
by with a pot of gold.
He ran with gusto as a herd
of deer leaped after him.
And The White Gazelle
oddly leaped after them...
Just beyond the bridge rested
Kylar the Terror.
She watched the strange scene
while her cupbearer
sneaked swigs of her drink.
His name was Rai, and he was tall.
But when Kylar the Terror
struck him with her staff,
he was suddenly small.
Magic in the hands of a Terror
is an error.
As I continued my run in the dark,
I heard a long, low howl.
And I knew my beloved Kat would
soon start to growl.
She crouched atop my shoulder
ever since she called Kylar "older."
But she whispers advice
from time to time,
and never lets me sleep.
So I run at night now instead
of counting sheep.
Upon my 21st mile, Shayna appeared
in the sky.
She's not a bird, but a constellation
of stars, FYI.
She waved to me as I waved to her,
and the sun began to rise.



That's when I awake with a start,
staring into a pair of eyes.
Delilah is hungry, and so am I.
We head to the kitchen to share
a pot pie.

Ingredients of life

One bottle of water. A small jug of chocolate milk. A bowl of Oatmeal. One Smirnoff. The only thing missing was a peanut butter and banana sandwich as I recovered from my long run this morning (and a midterm review).

After ten miles in near-freezing temperatures, my body couldn't decide what it needed-water for hydration, chocolate milk for nutrients, Gatorade for electrolytes, peanut butter for protein, alcohol for...rest? So I picked a few, hoping to cover as many bases as I could with only two hands.

If I had to choose just one, I would choose... Smirnoff. Just kidding. Water, seriously. It's a basic necessity of life, pure and delicious, refreshing and cooling. There is nothing more relieving than a bottle of ice cold water after a tedious run in the sun with sweat dripping from your earlobes, running down your arms and legs, making everything sticky and salty. That wasn't the case this morning.

This morning was cold and dark. Yesterday I failed to hydrate properly. Thus, I'm not sure if I even broke a sweat the entire run. Not smart. But all is well, as far as I can tell.

The other choices are there for extra fuel, to help you along the way. Chocolate milk, for instance, so I've heard, provides just as many nutrients to the body as a protein shake. And it's incredibly refreshing after a hard workout on hills, in the gym, or cross-training. Gatorade replaces the electrolytes you spent on the road (don't ask me to explain further). Peanut butter is an excellent source of protein and energy, and it's filling. Not to be forgotten are the carbs that come with the bread of your sandwich, which are extremely important to long-distance runners who burn hundreds to thousands of calories in a run.

I'm sure that if my diet were properly balanced, I would not crave these "extras." I could easily rely solely on H2O and sweat my heart out during every run. But as it is, I'm not perfect, and I enjoy eating whatever I want whenever I want it, as long as someone else pays for it...(I kid.)


Training Update
We are progressing in mileage and keeping tabs on potential injuries. Next week we will taper, meaning to decrease mileage in order to recover from the past two weeks and rest up for the next two (12 and 13 miles).
I am taking it easy the rest of this week, leaning more on cross-training, while I await a compression sleeve to hopefully help relieve some pain in my shin.

I'm still not getting as many comments as I would like (zero, to be specific). So, the next five people who leave comments on my blog, any post you choose, will be part of a fictional story that I will write and publish in my next post (if you wish to have your name mentioned.) This means you must leave your name. Comments on Facebook do not count. Please refrain from only typing your name and a quick "hey" or "good job" or "you can do it!" While I appreciate greetings and encouragement, I love to also receive questions and insight, topics, and meaningful commentary.

I hope this works and that you are encouraged to comment in the future.

A Runner's Story #5: Long-distance sprinter?

I think there's a sidewalk in Mesquite with an old friend's blood stained right in the middle.

Q was a junior in high school; I was a sophomore; The White Gazelle a freshman. It was a beautiful sunny day, and all we had was an easy run, mostly to keep us out of our coach's hair while he trained the sprinters. We made it about a mile from the school, and Q suddenly stumbled to the ground. She couldn't walk, had rolled her ankle (and scraped her knee), and was in tremendous pain.

Our first thought was to carry her back, but being cross country runners, neither of us was strong enough to make it a whole mile. So The White Gazelle, being the definition of awesomeness, and a sucker, sprinted back to the school to tell our coach (also her dad) that our friend and teammate was injured and needed a ride.

She sprinted a mile.

What I will always remember laughing about the most is the picture of my dear friend, The White Gazelle, attempting to tell her father about the situation immediately after sprinting a mile. Imagine being so completely out of breath, but also so concerned about your friend, and spitting out pieces of words as spurts of oxygen pump into your lungs, trying to make up for your last mile-long-sprint. Can I emphasize enough that she sprinted a whole mile?

Now imagine a good-humored father looking down at your daughter who is clearly frantic about something, wondering what in the hell she is trying to say between breaths. I believe he compared her to Lassie as he retold the story later that day.

Here's a tip for all athletes: always consider shock when you or a teammate rolls an ankle. Probably 90% of the time an ankle is rolled (or twisted), the initial shock will have you thinking you need surgery, a boot, and some incredible pain killers.

Shortly after our freshman friend took off in search of our coach and a trainer, Q realized she could, indeed, walk after all. So we started back to the school, slowly. About 100 yards from the training room, our trainer and The White Gazelle approached us in a van, ready to save the day, surprised to see us walking and talking as if nothing had happened. Not a mistake to be made twice...

Side note: Kat and I are a week and a half into our marathon training. We are following the guidelines of Hal Higdon's Novice 1 and 2 training programs. This means a beginner's mileage, while throwing in some pace work and eventually some hills. Here's a typical week's routine:

Monday: Long run (we had to move it to the beginning of the week instead of the end because of my work schedule.)
Tuesday: Rest
Wednesday: Easy/short
Thursday: Kinda Long
Friday: Easy/short
Saturday: Rest
Sunday: Cross train

It's too early to notice any/much improvement yet, but I will keep you posted.

Again, feel free to leave comments and questions. You could spark a new post.

Years later, I'm looking up again.

"For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." --Luke 14:11

It's happened again. One step back, and hoping for a strong step forward. I've mentioned having to "go back to the basics," and how it was inevitable that my running would suffer after withdrawing from the cross country team. But only recently have I begun to lose the sense of pride I used to hold.

It's to know surprise that I find myself weaker than I was two years ago. Lazier. Slower. But I've always told myself that I could jump right back into running six days a week, two-a-days, eight-plus miles easily. Now I know that I can't 'walk the walk.' Not only do I have to go back to the basics, but I've had to completely strip myself of all my pride and take the beginner's approach to running.

Two days ago I ran for a few minutes, only to stop and catch my breath. Then I ran a few more minutes. Repeat several times. I was ashamed. I could come up with excuse after excuse, but the truth is simple: I'm not the runner I used to be. I finally had to accept the fact that I'm not as hot as my former teammates (I'm not talking about appearances here). It wasn't easy, and I still don't want to let go of ALL that pride, no matter how little some might say I have rights to.

The important thing to realize is that pride is baggage. I've let it hold me back instead of pushing me forward, for every step back that I've taken has weighed down my  spirit, slowing progress by spending time feeling sorry for myself or that I've let someone down. Hopefully now I will simply run, only focusing on what's ahead and applying what I've learned.


Official RunDisney Marathon training begins September 9. My beloved Kat is back, and I've even picked up a new running buddy on occasion. A schedule is coming soon. Encouragement is always appreciated.