Memories...

Just back from a ten-mile run during which I couldn't help thinking of my dad.  During one of our last conversations, Dad asked me, "So, do you have any races coming up?"  That really touched my heart, because it showed that contrary to thinking I was crazy for doing all that running, Dad was actually proud of my athletic pursuits.

Dad, I miss you every day.

Now What?

So it's been two weeks since I finished my first marathon.  What an experience!  What a sense of accomplishment!  What a journey!  What a LONG two days of needing to use grab bars to stand up from any seated position, including the toilet!

The SF Marathon's slogan is right on:  It hurt, but it was "worth the hurt." And it didn't last long. It took about four days before I was walking normally again and by that weekend, I was more or less back to my regular running schedule.  Minus the 20-milers, of course!  Riding my stationary bike and doing some weight work was great cross training during those early days of recovery.  Like a geek, I wore my medal everywhere.  I might even wear it on the first day of school!

Speaking of school we start back tomorrow, which can only mean one thing:  I've been thinking about fall races. I don't think I'm ready for another marathon yet, but I am planning on doing the following:

August 28: Bay Area Title-9K
October 16: Nike Women's Half Marathon
November 6: The US Half Marathon

Then, of course, I'll run the annual Turkey Trail Trot (the first race I ever ran back in 2006!), and the annual Christimas Classic 5-K.

For those who wondered if this marathon nonsense was going to be a one-shot deal or an ongoing pursuit, here's your answer:  I signed up for next year's San Francisco Marathon using early registration!  And yes, I plan on doing the full again! 

Not only does the transition back to school have me thinking about upcoming races, but it's forcing me to focus on a big decision regarding whether to sell our house and purchase a slightly larger one not far from here, or stay in the little house that we purchased in 1995.  You wouldn't think that this would require months of anxiety and agonizing, but in these economic times, there's no way around it.  It's abundantly clear that the middle class is no longer welcome in San Francisco.  (Well, not just in San Francisco; the middle class is under siege in this country, period.  It's just particularly bad here due to the insane cost of housing.)

Training for the marathon, and now, getting back to my regular running routine, has kept me as sane as possible through these stressful weeks.  I am sure that training will steady me through the weeks ahead. Although I started running 30 years ago because of the physical benefits, it has become both a physical AND mental outlet for me.  To be out in the fresh air and enjoying the beauty of Golden Gate Park, or the beach, or my neighborhood, helps clear my head and lift my spirits.  For that, I am very grateful.

Here's to a fall filled with teaching, learning, good times, and, of course, many, many miles!

Mission Accomplished!

At 4:00 this morning, I woke up to use the bathroom.  There was nothing odd about this, so I simply rolled over onto my side and prepared to stand up.  That’s when the endeavor became most unusual, as I couldn’t move my legs without excruciating pain.  My first thought was, “WTF?!?” followed immediately by, “Oh, wait a minute …”

In my deep sleep, I had forgotten that a few hours earlier, I had finished my first marathon.  26.2 miles!  After over thirty years of running and months of the toughest training I have ever done, I crossed the finish line of The San Francisco Marathon with an enormous smile on my face:

Flash back to the pre-dawn hours of July 31st:  I woke up when my alarm rang at 4:00 a.m. (Another “WTF??!?” moment.)  I dragged myself out of bed, fumbled my way over to the kitchen for my first cup of coffee and slowly began to realize that today was THE day.

While Jim and Oscar continued to sleep, I checked e-mail, looked to see if any of my east-coast running peeps (a.k.a. "imaginary friends") were posting on the forum yet, and then, slowly, started to get dressed. That endeavor took me at least 30 minutes.  When Jim woke up, he thought it was funny to see me in my full regalia, looking like a camel.  He promptly whipped out the camera:

At 5:15 a.m., we were off!  My incredibly patient and supportive husband drove me down to the starting line at the Embarcadero.  On the way, he was the best coach a girl could have, reminding me of all the training I had done and telling me I would finish this race.  Those words kept me going, especially when I was ready to throw in the towel out of pure frustration (details to follow). As I hopped out of the car, I kissed Jim and told him to go home and back to bed, where any sane person would be at 5:30 on a Sunday morning!

After dropping my bag at the sweats check, I immediately got in the porta potty line.  It was still about 30 minutes until my (last) wave start at 6:32, so I figured “no problem.”  But, of course, there WAS a problem because several of the toilets were locked.  WTF?!?!?!  (I am beginning to see a theme here.)

Long story short, I was still in line when my wave started, which meant I was toward the back of the group right from the start.  The wonderful invention known as chip timing allowed me to not get too upset, and to enjoy the fact that, unlike many of the half marathons I have run, there was plenty of space.  Not once did I have to weave around blocks of people four- or five-across, walking on the far-left side of the course!  A miracle!

The first two-thirds of the marathon covered familiar territory for me:  along the Embarcadero (waterfront), past Fort Mason, onto Marina Blvd., Crissy Field, up into the Presidio (and I do mean “up”!), across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, down Lincoln (and I do mean "down"!), out through the Richmond District and into Golden Gate Park at 25th Avenue.  This is where the first half marathon ended, while the full marathoners turned right down JFK Drive.

And this is where things became unsettling.  The course had really thinned out since the half-ers were gone, but it looked like both the entertainment and volunteers were thinning out, too.  Not cool, SFM!  We ran to the end of JFK Drive, then took the turn back up MLK Drive.  This led to a little jaunt around Stow Lake.  Ironically for me, this is where things got really confusing.  You could say that I got lost in my own backyard.

We came around Stow Lake and back down onto MLK Drive.  There were probably about 15 of us running closely together at this point.  Finally, one of the guys said, “Where are the markers?  Cops?  Volunteers? WTF?!??”  (I definitely see a theme here.) We whipped out our smart phones to use the SFM app, which turned out to be nearly useless.  One of ladies said, "I am so pissed off right now, I'm ready to call a cab!"

But just then, a woman wearing a bib from the first half marathon came walking toward us, and told us that we had somehow gotten off course.  I politely informed her we didn’t “somehow” get lost; it was because there had been no markers or directors to get us out of the Stow Lake loop correctly.  She listened to us rant and then told us that the course for the second half marathon was over on JFK Drive, which was probably the full marathon course, too.  Not knowing what else to do, we decided to risk it, and thankfully, she had been correct.  We did get back on track, but we lost time and added distance.  Based on my Garmin, my guess is that my little excursion cost me about 15 minutes.  (Note: This was in a park that I know like the back of my hand because I’m in it almost every single day, so I don’t think that those of us who got lost were at fault…)

Finally, we were back on course, heading out of Golden Gate Park and onto Haight Street.  This was at about mile 16 or so, and it turned out to be my favorite part of the run.  (Thank goodness for that -- it helped me forget those 15 extra minutes of wandering in the desert!)  As a native San Franciscan and the daughter of two "transplants," some of my earliest memories are of relatives visiting us from Europe and the Midwest.  I was only 3 or 4 years old at the time, but I remember that they always wanted “to go see the hippies.”  Dad would pile us in the car, and we’d drive over to the Haight to see/smell the counterculture that was thriving in '68.  (Note: You can still smell the "counterculture" in Golden Gate Park on any given day of the week.) It was “groovy” to be able to run the whole length of Haight Street and really see it for the first time in years – without dodging buses, cars, and taxis.

I guess it's fitting that after Haight Street, my memories of the marathon are sort of blurry. I remember passing the boat yard where Jim works. I remember being amazed at how much the South of Market area has changed over the past twenty years.  I remember that one of the cops made me laugh when my cell phone rang and he responded, “I’ll get it!”  I also remember that around mile 22, my quads started tightening up from all of the downhill running.  (The uphills were challenging, but totally doable. The downhills got me.)  And, at some point, a laugh turned into a coughing spasm, reminding me that my bronchitis was still lingering and that I needed to be careful.

That’s when I decided to slow down from my “run one mile/walk one minute” plan to “run a half mile/walk a half mile” backup.  I stuck to this from about mile 23 to 26, but as soon as I saw that finish line, I took off.  I couldn’t get across it fast enough!  Seeing Jim, my mom and stepdad waiting for me, cheering and shouting, was the icing on the cake.

So, after thirty years of being a runner, I am now also a marathoner.  It still hasn’t really sunk in yet.

Thanks to all of my family and friends who supported me through the long months of training when my schedule was really difficult.  Thanks for your patience and encouragement with this crazy endeavor.  I'm especially grateful to my running friends who blazed the way by running their first (or 50th!) marathons and inspiring me to give it a try, too.  Without their support, I might never have started, let alone finished.  (Ladies, you know who you are!)

As to the San Francisco Marathon itself:  I couldn’t have imagined running my first marathon anywhere other than my hometown.  The pre-race events were well-organized, the course is gorgeous, and the medal is way cool.  I will be writing to the race organizers about the lack of course support for people in the last wave, however.  It’s a good thing that because my only goal was to finish, I didn’t really care about my time.  Otherwise, I would have been outraged about the time I lost getting off course due to the lack of markings/directors for us back-of-the-packers.

So, mission accomplished.*  Which means, it's time for a new mission!

*Note: This mission was accomplished for real -- no crotch-hugging flight suit required!